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23 Supernatural Marvel DC TWD RE HP

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Not So Much

Masterlist

Pairing: Thor Odinson X Reader

Summary: He was your teammate but also the person you disliked the most in the universe. He was always loud, he thrived on impulsive decisions, and he loved annoying you. You were the opposite, you moved through shadows quietly, analyzed every move before you made them. And now? They were sending you on a mission with him. Just the two of you. As husband and wife.

Content: Fake Marriage, Enemies To Lovers, Forced Proximity, Yearning, Tension, Slow Burn, Angst, Infinity War-Endgame Thor, King Thor, Protective Thor, Jealous Thor, Possessive Thor, Jealous Reader, They Are Touching Each Other Every Chance They Get, Bickering Final Boss, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Explicit SMUT (It starts from '—', and ends with it so you can skip it if you want)

Word Count: 40k

Note: I live for annoying but sweet Thor 😭 His most dominant personality traits i swear and the way he gets angry FAST😛 My mannn fr (took me a whole month to write this, not proofread sorry for any typos or mistakes)

Minors Do Not Interact

—

You wanted to kill him.

You wanted, with every fiber of your being, to wrap your hands around his thick, infuriating neck and choke the life out of him right there on the polished marble floor of the Avengers Compound kitchen. It was a beautiful, violent fantasy that played in your mind in vivid detail—but unfortunately for you, the man was a damn god, and your fingers would probably snap before his airway even constricted.

“I said no, Thor. I got here first,” you hissed, your voice a sharp, venomous whisper as you slammed your shoulder into his side, trying to forcefully shove his massive frame away from the espresso machine.

The sleek chrome appliance sat on the counter like a holy grail, reflecting the harsh morning light. At this ungodly hour, that single machine was the only thing bonding your soul to the realm of the living. You just loved your morning coffee too much. It was the one ritual that made your life feel somewhat normal. And he, as always, was standing squarely in the way—demanding, with all the unearned arrogance of Asgardian royalty, that he be the first one to use it.

“Stop pushing me away, will you? It does nothing but tickle me, Little Flame,” he grumbled, a deep sound that came from somewhere deep in his broad chest.

He didn't even look at you, his eyes fixed on the digital screen of the machine as his large hands came down to carelessly pry your fingers off his waist. Your eyes narrowed into lethal slits, the heat rising in your cheeks at the sound of the ridiculous nickname and the casual condescension dripping from his tone.

“I have been telling you for years, Thor, stop calling me that,” you snapped, pulling your hands back and crossing them over your chest in a furious, protective stance. “And what is that supposed to mean? Are you implying that I’m weak?”

Thor finally turned his head, his short, textured blonde hair catching the lights. A lazy, incredibly punchable smirk broke across his handsome face. He held his massive, heavily muscled arm out horizontally, creating an unbreakable physical barrier that completely blocked you from reaching the coffee pods.

“Why? I think it rather suits you. Feisty little—”

Before he could finish the sentence, you slapped his forearm with a loud, resounding smack, grabbing his wrist with both hands and pulling down with all your weight, trying to rip his arm away from the machine. It was like trying to move a mountain with a piece of string.

“Weaker than me, surely,” he said, his smirk widening as he easily kept his arm locked in place against your full-body strain.

Okay, fine. He was stating a cold, unyielding fact. He was a cosmic entity. He was objectively, biologically stronger than you. Your cell structure had been locked in a permanent, un-aging loop by a rogue lab experiment, giving you endless youth and an unbreakable healing factor—not the brute strength to wrestle the God of Thunder. But you would rather walk barefoot on needles than ever admit his physical superiority to his face.

“What are you two bickering about again?”

Natasha’s exhausted, monotone voice sliced through the tension. She walked into the kitchen, holding an empty mug, her green eyes fixed on the two of you with the heavy, soul-deep weariness of a woman who was entirely done with you being at each other's throats every five minutes.

That was the true tragedy of your existence. Outside the reinforced walls of this compound, Thor was a global icon. He was the golden savior, a benevolent, charming god who was nice to every single human being he encountered. If you went to the press and told them how much he absolutely loved to torment, provoke, and annoy you on a daily basis, not a single soul on Earth would believe you. To the rest of the universe, he was a god. To you, he was a giant, golden-retriever-brained nuisance.

Your left eye literally twitched with fury as you whipped your head around to face Nat. “He’s being a child again!”

“I am only in need of my morning beverage—” Thor protested smoothly.

“I got here first!” You spun back toward him, throwing your hands up in the air, your eyes wide with erratic anger.

“And I will be drinking my coffee, first,” he replied with a smug tilt of his chin.

Before you could lunge forward to block him, his large fingers immediately darted past your face and pushed the start button. The machine whirred to life, a dark stream of espresso pouring directly into the ceramic cup you had painstakingly selected and placed there a minute ago.

Thor watched the liquid fill the mug, leaning his hip against the counter as he grabbed the handle. “See? Easy as that,” he mumbled, grinning straight into the steam as he took a slow, loud, deliberate sip right in front of your face.

Your face went a furious, burning red. Your breath hitched, your vision blurring with a wave of pure, chaotic rage. You wanted to grab that hot mug straight out of his hand and throw the boiling liquid right over his clean grey t-shirt. You wanted to watch the stain spread across his chest while you laughed in his face.

Honestly? That was a damn good idea. Your muscles coiled, your fingers twitching as you prepared to lunge at him and commit a felony.

But just as your sneakers gripped the tile, Natasha let out a sharp, interrupting sigh. “The team is waiting for you in the briefing room,” she said, turning on her heel and gesturing toward the sliding glass doors of the hallway. “Let’s go, lovebirds.”

The words cut through the kitchen like a sudden frost. You and Thor both froze instantly, the childish hostility evaporating into a stunned, icy paralysis.

“What?” you said in perfect unison. The word tore from your throats at the exact same second, your voices blending together as you both whipped your heads around to look at Natasha. But she didn't stop to explain—she simply walked down the corridor toward the war room, a wicked, knowing smirk playing on the corner of her lips as she left the two of you standing in the quiet kitchen, completely blindsided by the ominous weight of her words.

“Fucking weirdos everywhere,” you grumbled under your breath.

Before he could even swallow his next stolen sip, you forcefully jammed your palms right into the center of his chest. You used every single ounce of strength your muscles could muster up, throwing your entire body weight into the strike. You needed that damn coffee, and you would get that damn coffee.

Thor actually stumbled back a step, a booming chuckle ripping from his throat at the absolute volatility of your expression. You were completely furious. He honestly had no idea why annoying you brought him such immense satisfaction, but it did. It was an addiction at this point.

In his eyes, you were just absolutely no fun. From the very first day he met you, you had done nothing but jab at him for being too loud and obvious. You were always rolling your eyes, saying things like, “You only know how to smash things and be reckless, Thor,” and “Stealth is an actual concept, you know?”

Now, Thor didn't dislike a lot of people. He was a damn lovable person—the golden boy of the Nine Realms, and now, an absolutely attentive king. But when it came to you? He couldn't help it. You rubbed him the wrong way all the damn time, your sharp tongue grating on his nerves. He could say with absolute, unyielding certainty that he disliked you. A lot.

You were still grumbling under your breath about him stealing your favorite ceramic mug when you noticed his massive shadow was still hovering directly over you.

“Why are you still here?” you asked, your voice coming out far more irritated than it should have. You internally cursed yourself; you were giving him way too much power over your emotions.

“I simply want to watch you sip on your beverage after me,” he said, flashing you a brilliant, smug smile.

You huffed, grabbing your freshly poured cup from the machine. “Thor, just call it coffee. Calling it a beverage does not make it sound any fancier.”

You slid past his broad shoulder, taking a deliberate, aggressive sip of your drink before making your way toward the sliding glass doors of the briefing room. He immediately fell into step behind you, his massive, sweeping strides matching yours in a pure, frustrating rhythm.

“It does sound better when I call it a beverage,” he argued, his heavy leather boots thudding loudly against the floorboards as if he could make his statement more convincing by physical force.

“Sure, lord of thunder,” you murmured, a wicked, knowing smirk pulling at your lips. You knew exactly which buttons to push, and that specific title was your absolute favorite weapon.

“I am the god of thunder!” he hissed from behind you, his voice dropping into a defensive, offended rumble. “You know what? I know you are doing this on purpose—you are intentionally trying to—”

You pushed through the glass doors, entering the sleek, high-tech briefing room with the God of Thunder hot on your heels, still fiercely grumbling about the distinct theological differences between a lord and a god.

“Ah, our favorite couple, arguing again,” Tony said loudly, opening his arms wide in a dramatic, welcoming gesture from the head of the conference table. He leaned back in his chair, a classic, mischievous glint in his eyes. “Still not able to decide whether they want to kill each other or fuck—“

Before the final, crude word could even leave his mouth, your reflexes took over. Your hand blurred. You snatched a thick, heavy tactical folder from the edge of the table and launched it through the air with lethal, pinpoint precision.

Smack. The folder hit Tony squarely across the bridge of his nose, the papers scattering in a neat halo around his chair.

“Ow! Okay, there was absolutely no need for that,” Tony muttered, wincing as he gingerly adjusted his tinted glasses, though the smirk never truly left his face. He looked over at Natasha and Steve, who were already seated, completely unfazed by the morning violence.

“You talk too much, Stark,” Thor grumbled, pulling out a chair and dropping his massive frame into it with a loud thud that resonated through the room.

Your eyebrows shot up instantly as you sat down yourself. “Says you?” you retorted, gesturing toward his broad chest with your coffee mug. “You literally haven't shut up since the kitchen.”

“Let’s just focus on our objective, okay, guys?” Steve said, running a tired palm over his face, completely done with your collective energy so early in the morning. He pushed himself up from his seat next to Tony, leaning his broad shoulders over the holographic table to command the room.

Steve tapped the digital console, and the lights in the briefing room dimmed instantly, replaced by a glowing, three-dimensional blueprint of an ultra-private luxury island floating in the Mediterranean.

“Our focus is here: The Sanctuary,” Steve began, his voice dropping into his serious captain tone. “On paper, it’s an exclusive, hyper-secure resort for the world's billionaires, corrupt politicians, and elite criminals. But over the last forty-eight hours, our satellites intercepted an unencrypted dark-web signal bouncing from the island’s lower levels. A rogue faction has managed to smuggle a massive cache of volatile, leftover Dark Elf technology onto the premises. They’re hosting a private, black-market auction to sell it off to the highest bidder.”

You leaned forward, your brain instantly analyzing the island's perimeter. “So we drop in, neutralize the buyers, and secure the tech. Sounds like a standard Tuesday. Why are we all sitting here?”

“Because it’s a hostage situation waiting to happen if we go in loud,” Natasha spoke up from the corner, her fingers tapping against her tablet. “The entire island is rigged with a quantum-fission failsafe connected to the central vault. If the resort’s biometric security detects a frontal assault, a breach, or a single Quinjet on their radar, the system will instantly detonate the alien cache. It’ll vaporize the island and take half of Western Europe out with the blast wave. It requires a ghost to dismantle the failsafe from the inside.”

“A ghost?” you repeated, a slow, dark smile creeping onto your face. “Perfect. I’ll go in undercover as a maid, slip into the server room, kill the signal, and leave before anyone even finishes their champagne.”

“You’re half right,” Tony cut in, tapping his pen against his cheek. “You are going undercover. But you’re not going as a maid, Shadow. The resort has a strict, biometric-level verification system for all service staff, but their guest list is curated entirely by the billionaire owner—an eccentric, power-obsessed arms dealer named Moretti. He has a strict ‘No Media, Couples Only’ policy for his guests to protect their privacy.”

Tony smirked, leaning forward and typing a command into his console. The holographic display shifted from the island to a digital invitation, written in gold lettering, making your eyes go wide. No.

“Moretti is obsessed with power, gods, and mythology,” Tony explained, his eyes darting between you and the blonde King sitting across from you. “He doesn't just want money; he wants prestige. So, we gave him exactly what he wanted. We leaked a carefully staged, ‘top-secret’ paparazzi photo to the press this morning. The official narrative? The newly crowned King of Asgard has secretly retired from his bachelor days and eloped with a fierce, mysterious warrior woman.”

Your breath hitched violently in your throat. The coffee in your mug suddenly felt like acid.

“What?” you whispered, your heart stopping. You were an Avenger; you were known to the world, but you operated mostly in the quiet, precise darkness. To be thrust into the center of attention like this was your worst nightmare.

Thor froze, his hand stopping mid-air as he went to scratch his short blonde beard. His blue eyes went incredibly wide as he stared at the holographic invitation. “Stark—what madness are you speaking of?”

“It’s simple, lovebirds,” Natasha said, her voice laced with an infuriatingly calm amusement. “Moretti swallowed the bait hook, line, and sinker. The moment he saw the news that the King Of Asgard was on a secret honeymoon, he personally sent out an exclusive, all-access VIP invitation to the royal couple. You two are the ultimate distraction.”

Steve looked at the two of you, his expression sympathetic but unyielding. “Thor keeps all eyes on him by playing the loud, boastful, larger-than-life husband, giving you the perfect cover to move through the high-society crowds, slip into the shadows, and quietly dismantle the failsafe without triggering the biometric alarms. You need his status to get through the front door, and he needs your precision to make sure the island doesn't explode.”

“You expect me,” you said slowly, your voice dropping into a lethal, dangerous sound as you pointed a finger across the table, “to pretend to be blissfully, passionately in love with him? For how long exactly?”

“Not a soul here but you said passionately—“ Thor grumbled but was cut off by you, “Shut up, will you?”

Thor’s hands twitched, like he was holding himself from doing something irrational. He sighed a long breath, trying to compose himself, he didn’t think he could do this. Why did it have to be you, of all people?

But your skills in being a ghost were too good—too fucking perfect for your own good. So he knew the reason why it had to be you, but he protested anyway, he turned to Steve, “I do not see why she should be the one coming with me—“

You didn’t let him finish, rolling your eyes as you said “I’m not loving the idea either—“

“Depends on you, really. Could just be two days or a whole week.“ Steve said cutting both of you off as he looked at the both of you, clearly distressed at your brewing argument, again. “An entire week?” you said, your voice dripping with irritation, your jaw locking at the mere thought of it.

“Hey, it’s a tough gig, but someone’s gotta do it,” Tony chuckled, completely ignoring the murderous look you were throwing him across the table. “Congratulations, kids. Pack your bags. You’re going on a honeymoon.”

—

You were huffing and puffing as you aggressively packed your suitcases—yes, suitcases, plural.

You were practically tearing through your wardrobe, shoving in dresses, hats, sunglasses, and anything else you could get your hands on, entirely leaving the burden of actually coordinating an outfit for later. The second you had escaped the briefing room, you had fled to your quarters. The news was still pouring over you like boiling water, making your skin burn with a restless, defensive heat just thinking about it.

How the hell were you going to pretend to be his wife?

The only thing you were biologically capable of doing near that man was yelling at him, throwing files at his head, or arguing until you were blue in the face. He got on your nerves every single second of the day, provoking you with that smug arrogance of his, making you want to literally peel your own skin off your bones just to escape his proximity. And now you were supposed to look into his blue eyes and play the part of a blushing, smitten bride on a Mediterranean honeymoon. It was sick. It was a comedy of errors written by a cruel universe.

As you slammed another folded gown into the suitcase, your movements suddenly slowed. Your eyes caught sight of the faint, jagged scars marring the skin over your forearms and stomach.

A sudden, heavy wave of insecurity bubbled up inside your chest, overtaking the rage. The thought of being forced into revealing resort wear—of being paraded around an island full of hyper-critical, judgmental billionaires who you knew would dissect your every flaw—infiltrated your mind.

Usually, you were secure in your own skin. You were an Avenger, for God's sake. You were a lethal weapon, and honestly, you did wear dresses when the occasion called for it. But in this context? Under the blinding, global spotlight? You felt like a fraud. You felt like every single pair of eyes on that island would be glued to you, the judgmental, elitist sneers of high society cutting right through you simply because you were Thor’s goddamn wife. You were the woman who had supposedly tamed the King of Asgard, and they would be looking for any reason to tear you apart.

The scars were a permanent, physical gift from your torturers. The monsters who had turned you immortal years ago.

You could not die of age. You could not fall succumb to diseases. Even lethal wounds healed seamlessly within hours if properly attended to. You were stuck living like this forever, the terrifying nightmares from those months in the lab still playing in your mind night after night, making your throat go completely sore as you woke up screaming for them to stop. The experiments had broken your human limitations, locking your cellular structure in a permanent, un-aging loop.

You sharply rubbed at your eyes with the palms of your hands, trying to force the horrific memories to flee from your mind. The ghosts of your past loved to haunt you wherever you went, but you couldn't afford a breakdown today. Not with a flight to catch.

Letting out a heavy, defeated sigh, you declared yourself done with the chaotic packing. You bit your lip anxiously as you got ready for the travel day, pulling a simple, breezy white summer dress over your frame. The fabric flared gently around your knees, and you slid your feet into a pair of modest kitten heels. Finally, you pulled a soft white cardigan over your shoulders, fastening a few buttons, strictly wanting to ensure you wouldn't freeze before you reached your destination. You took one last look in the mirror, masking the assassin, masking the scars, and preparing to face your fate.

As you opened the door, struggling to maneuver your suitcases out of the room, you immediately heard his voice booming down the corridor.

“How are you going to carry those by yourself?” Thor asked, leaning against the wall with a wicked, entirely too handsome smile plastered across his face.

He was obviously going to help you. If the King of Asgard was anything, he was a gentleman down to his very bones—but he didn't just want to be helpful. He wanted to hear the words come out of your mouth. He wanted you to look him in the eye and actively admit that you needed his help. He knew you would absolutely hate doing it, which only made him crave it more.

“I can handle myself just fine,” you breathed out defensively. You leaned your weight back, using the rolling wheels of the suitcases to your advantage. Your pride was still firmly intact because you could easily drag them behind you on a flat surface, but you knew deep down that you couldn't physically lift both of these giant, overpacked cases at the same time down a flight of stairs. But he most definitely did not need to know that.

“Oh? So you don’t need any assistance at all?” he remarked smoothly. He was casually carrying his own massive tactical suitcase in one hand by the handle, his arm barely flexing. It was probably like holding a mosquito between his fingers for him.

“No. Especially not from you,” you huffed, your heels clicking sharply against the tile as you tried to wheel past him, clearly getting irritated by his mere existence.

“Hm,” he just mumbled, a deeply amused sound vibrating in his throat as he turned and watched you walk over to the elevator banks.

You aggressively pressed the down button, silently begging the universe for the doors to open as fast as humanly possible. You could feel Thor’s massive presence looming right behind you, practically radiating an eager energy, just waiting for another opportunity to prod at you.

“What are you waiting for?” you asked, your voice incredibly tight from pure annoyance.

He chuckled, the sound low and rumbling. “For the elevator, Little Flame. Same as you.”

You could feel his massive, broad frame standing directly behind your back. Even though there were a few inches of space separating you, he was like a literal furnace, a heavy, intoxicating heat radiating off his body and wrapping around your shoulders.

You rolled your eyes at the ceiling. “You can carry your own suitcase. I don't see why—” You abruptly cut yourself off, closing your eyes tightly, your face scrunching up in disdain.

Fuck. You had just walked right into his trap.

“Oh, so you cannot carry yours?” he prodded instantly, his tone dripping with sheer amusement. Your eyes opened back up immediately.

Where was this fucking elevator?!

Realizing the lift was taking too long, you sharply turned around to face him. Your bruised, stubborn ego completely hijacked your brain, making you snap at him before you could stop yourself. “I very much can!”

Thor looked down at you, his blue eyes sparkling with a level of amusement that was bordering on infuriating. “Oh, please, be my guest, will you?” He dramatically extended his free hand, gesturing toward the grand concrete staircase at the end of the hall. You huffed a sharp breath through your nose, your jaw locking. “Fine.”

You spun on your heels, deliberately dragging your heavy suitcases over to the very edge of the stairs, desperately delaying the exact moment you would actually have to lift them. When you finally reached the top step, you stopped and stared down at the luggage, your brain going into overdrive as you calculated the weight distribution.

Thor followed you, enjoying every single second of this entirely too much. Even his stance—weight shifted to one hip, a smirk playing on his lips—radiated absolute satisfaction.

“Struggling there?” he asked, taking a deliberate step closer to you.

“Not at all,” you lied through your teeth. Your eyes narrowed into lethal slits as you stared at him, and out of pure, stubborn stupidity, you grabbed the handles of both massive suitcases.

Bracing yourself in your goddamn kitten heels, you attempted to lift them both off the ground at the exact same time.

But the second your muscles tensed and you yanked them up, the combined, brutal weight of the luggage completely threw off your center of gravity. Your body violently swung forward toward the edge of the stairs, the momentum dragging you directly downward. A sharp, terrified yelp tore from your throat as your foot slipped on the smooth edge. You closed your eyes, waiting for the inevitable impact.

You were definitely going down. You were going to roll down a flight of concrete stairs in a white summer dress, become the laughing stock of the entire Avengers Compound, and probably severely injure yourself—meaning you'd have to hobble around the island waiting for your powers to slowly knit your bones back together. Amazing. Brilliant execution, babe, bravo.

But just as those thoughts raced through your mind, they disappeared entirely.

A massive, incredibly solid arm suddenly wrapped like an iron band around your waist. With one effortless, powerful pull, he caught your entire body weight, dragging you firmly back from the edge of the abyss and slamming your back flush against his broad, solid chest.

You opened your eyes—which you hadn't even realized you'd squeezed shut—and let out a shaky, breathless sigh of pure relief. Your heart was hammering like a drum against your ribs.

“Perhaps now, you will admit that you need me to carry them for you,” he mumbled. His voice was a gravelly rasp right against the back of your ear, his warm breath fanning across your skin and causing a shiver of goosebumps to erupt down your neck and arms.

Your breath caught. You quickly huffed, using your hands to pry his heavy arm away from your waist. The skin beneath your dress was practically burning from his touch, but you absolutely did not have the mental capacity to dwell on that right now.

You turned around to face him, your cheeks flushed, your expression a mixture of distress and absolute fury that you had just proven him entirely right.

“Fine,” you said, your voice tight and defeated.

Thor didn't move an inch out of your personal space. He looked down at you, his eyes slowly tracing over your flushed face and your white dress, a smug, triumphant look in his gaze.

“Fine, what?” he challenged softly, wanting every single syllable of his victory.

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, your pride fiercely battling against the cold reality of the situation. You darted a desperate look toward the elevator, but the glowing digital screen indicated it was still stuck on a lower floor. Frustrated and completely cornered, you aggressively slammed your right foot down against the tile floor like a spoiled child. He always brought that irritating, uncharacteristic side out of you.

“Okay,” you snapped, completely averting your gaze from his face as you mumbled, “Ineedyoutocarrymyluggageforme.”

The words tumbled out of your mouth in a single, rushed, completely unintelligible breath, your eyes locked onto the center of his chest.

“What?” Thor chuckled again, the hilarious sight of you stomping your foot and speaking at supersonic speed catching him entirely off guard. A deep, rumble of laughter shook his chest. “I did not quite get that, Little Flame. Can you say it again?” He was enjoying this far too much for his own good, the smug triumph radiating off him in waves.

“I need you to carry my luggage for me,” you enunciated sharply, every word dripping with pure annoyance.

Instead of just taking the win, Thor brought a thick finger to his chin, tapping it as if he were lost in deep thought. He scrunched up his handsome face, tilting his head. “I don’t think that was a really nice way of asking someone to carry your ginormous suitcases for you.”

“Ugh!” You let out a loud, frustrated yell, throwing your hands down to your sides as you forced yourself to look him dead in his sparkling blue eyes. “Will you please carry my luggage for me?”

He smiled triumphantly, his entire face lighting up like a kid on Christmas morning. He finally stepped forward and grabbed your two bags, arranging them in perfect order back-to-back so their elongated handles lined up close together. Then, with a single, massive hand, he closed his fingers over both handles at once. With his own tactical suitcase in his other hand, he effortlessly lifted all three massive bags off the floor without a single hint of strain.

The elevator suddenly dinged, the doors sliding open just as he hoisted the luggage into the air. Ordinarily, you would have completely lost your temper at timing like that. You would have cursed the universe out loud for making you beg for help only for the elevator to arrive a second later.

But the words died in your throat.

The sight of him carrying all three heavy suitcases at once made you breathe in a sharp, sudden gasp. Your pulse skipped a beat in your chest, and your eyes involuntarily roamed all over his frame. He had changed out of his grey t-shirt before coming to your door; he was now wearing a tight black t-shirt that hugged the broad expanse of his chest and shoulders, paired with tailored charcoal linen pants and black loafers.

He looked good. So fucking hot, in fact, that it sent an unexpected, electric tingle shooting straight through your core and settling deep in your stomach. The sight of his veins popping and his massive biceps bulging as he easily carried the weight of your entire life in one hand was—

What the fuck? What the hell was wrong with you?

You were fully aware that the King of Asgard possessed heart-stoppingly good looks—the entire planet was aware of it—but his infuriating behaviour toward you usually stopped you from ever enjoying the sight. You were supposed to dislike him. You were rivals. But what the fuck had just happened to your brain?

You sharply cleared your throat, forcefully tearing your eyes away from his arms as your cheeks burned a bright, furious crimson. Desperate to hide your sudden fluster, you quickly turned and marched past him, going down the staird in a fastened pace.

Thor smoothly followed behind you, his loafers making zero noise on the concrete, while your heels clicked loudly and rapidly down the steps, echoing your erratic, racing heartbeat.

Thor was watching you walk down the stairs before him, still visibly fuming that he had managed to break your stubborn streak and force a please out of your mouth. He was utterly relishing the victory, a brilliant, smug smile that practically screamed he had won etched across his handsome features while he effortlessly balanced your massive luggage in his grip.

But his smugness didn't last long.

You huffed, stopping for a brief second on the landing. With a fluid, deliberate motion, you slid your white cardigan off your shoulders, pooling the fabric into one hand. The sudden movement exposed the sharp, elegant lines of your collarbones in the strapless white dress. You flipped your hair to one side, completely baring the smooth expanse of your neck to the air—and to him. Then, as if you couldn't quite decide what kind of sensory torture you wanted to execute on the King of Asgard, you started heading down the remaining stairs, your hips swaying with a natural, intoxicating rhythm.

Thor took a sudden, sharp breath at the sight before him. His blue eyes went wide, running over your frame, completely unable to decide where to look. His gaze got hopelessly caught on the soft curve of your shoulders, the narrow dip of your waist, the hypnotic roll of your hips.

A hot rush of blood surged to his head. His breath caught violently in his chest, and for the first time in his immortal life, the God of Thunder actually stumbled on a concrete step. His black loafer clipped the edge, his chest heaving as he quickly caught himself.

What the actual hell was happening? He was well aware that you were breathtaking; he had seen the way people’s heads turned whenever you walked into a room without you even trying. But this? This reaction was entirely uncalled for. He disliked you. He disliked your sharp tongue and the way you always had a quip ready to jab at him. He shouldn't be admiring you, yet his heart was currently hammering against his ribs like a war drum.

Hearing his sudden, heavy stumble, you paused and turned your head back to see what was wrong. You found him standing a few steps above you, his jaw slightly slack. A wicked smile slowly bloomed across your face.

“What was that, Your Majesty? Are they too much for you to carry?” you taunted, shifting your body so your chest was fully turned toward him.

Thor’s eyes helplessly drifted downward to your now fully visible chest, his breath catching for a second time that day. The flush on his neck deepened. He aggressively cleared his throat, forcing his eyes up to meet your smirking face.

“Hah! I can move literal mountains, Little Flame. These trinkets are nothing to me,” he mumbled defensively, his voice a bit more rushed than usual. “I simply lost my balance is all.”

Desperate to escape your mocking gaze, he practically ran down the remaining stairs, his loafers squeaking slightly against the polished concrete as he hurried into the main lobby with all three suitcases clutched tightly in his hands.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you watched him go, continuing your descent. The discarded cardigan remained clutched in your hand; you felt entirely too hot, your own racing thoughts making your skin flush. You gulped, trying to aggressively shoo the bizarre tension out of your mind. You hated him. You needed to get a grip.

When you finally reached the expansive glass entrance of the compound, Thor was already standing there, deep in a heated discussion with Tony.

“Why spend hours traveling in one of your metal birds when we can get there in seconds?” Thor was arguing, his brow furrowed in genuine, godly confusion.

Tony turned toward you as you approached, a wicked, entirely too amused smirk lighting up his face. “Ah, perfect timing, Shadow. Point Break here is staging a mutiny. He says you two don't need to board a plane or take a Quinjet.”

“How come?” you asked, your blood suddenly running cold. An ominous weight dropped into your stomach because you could already guess exactly what the god of thunder had in mind.

“Stormbreaker can take us across the world in seconds,” Thor said, turning his massive frame toward you, completely serious.

“But—” you started, your mind frantically grasping for any viable excuse to avoid being that physically close to him for a cosmic teleportation ride. “But how will you carry the luggage while we traverse realms? It’s impossible.”

“You just hold onto me, and I will handle the rest,” he said easily, dismissively, as if he were explaining the most simple, mundane task in the world. You swallowed hard, your heart doing a strange flip. “But Thor, you have to hold Stormbreaker in one hand, and the luggage in the other. What about me? Where am I supposed to go?”

Thor let out a sharp, irritated huff, clearly done with you dragging out the inevitable. “I said I will handle it. Now, let us go.”

He turned away, marching through the sliding glass doors into the bright morning air. He dropped his own suitcase onto the concrete pavement and extended his right hand toward the sky. Within a split second, a loud, crackling boom echoed through the compound as the massive, heavy blade of Stormbreaker flew from his room straight into his waiting palm.

With practiced, terrifying strength, he gathered the handles of all three massive suitcases into his other hand, hoisting them up effortlessly. He turned his head, his short blonde hair catching the sunlight, and motioned sharply with his chin for you to come closer.

You narrowed your eyes at him stubbornly, crossing your arms over your chest. “What if I don’t want to—” Before you could even finish your protest, Thor’s patience snapped. In one swift, blur of a movement, his massive hand shot out and grabbed you firmly by the wrist.

You let out a sharp yelp as he effortlessly yanked you forward into his personal space, his strength completely overriding your balance. He forcefully guided your arms around his thick middle, pulling you so close that your cheek was muffled right against the hard, solid muscle of his chest.

You could feel his heavy pectoral muscles instantly tighten at the sudden contact, a wave of intense, radiating heat washing over you. Before you could even open your mouth to yell at him for handling you so roughly, his deep, rumbling voice vibrated right through his chest wall against your ear. “Hold on tight.” And with a sudden, blinding flash of blue electricity, he raised Stormbreaker high into the sky.

A blinding burst of color erupted all around you as the Bifrost engulfed you both. The roaring force of the cosmic energy threatened to rip you away, and you instinctively closed your eyes tightly, holding yourself steady by gluing your body entirely to his. Your fingers dug firmly into the fabric of his shirt, pulling yourself so close that there wasn’t a single millimeter of space left between your chest and his.

Then, just as quickly as it had begun, the rushing roar vanished.

You felt your heels solidly touch the ground, arriving at your destination in a second. For a moment, your hands remained tightly locked around his middle and your face was still pressed right against the warm, hard muscle of his chest, you could hear his heartbeat thudding against his ribs.

Slowly, you forced your eyes open and pulled your face back, blinking against the sudden, brilliant glare of the Mediterranean sun.

The Sanctuary stretched out before you, you were standing on a private, pristine white-stone terrace that overlooked a sprawling, crescent-shaped bay. The water below was a blinding, translucent turquoise, so clear that you could see the dark, shifting shadows of coral reefs deep beneath the surface. Sleek, multi-million-dollar superyachts were anchored in the distance, polished and gleaming under the midday sun.

The resort itself was built directly into the towering, sun-bleached cliffs of the island. It was a marvel of modern, minimalist design blended with ancient luxury—all clean white concrete, floor-to-ceiling glass panels, and cascading infinity pools that seemed to spill directly into the ocean below. Lavish, vibrant pink bougainvillea and lush green palms draped over stone walkways, softening the sharp lines of the villas.

Your nostrills filled with the scent of saltwater, expensive citrus perfume, and blooming jasmine. In the distance, you could hear the faint, muted clinking of crystal glasses and the smooth, ambient lounge music drifting from an exclusive beachfront pavilion. It was entirely peaceful, completely hidden from the rest of the world, and crawling with some of the most dangerous, corrupt elite on the planet.

You let out a slow breath, your eyes immediately mapping out the security cameras hidden in the palm trees and the heavily armed guards dressed in casual, matching resort linen suits.

“You can let go of me now, Little Flame,” Thor’s deep voice murmured directly above you, a distinct trace of that familiar, smug amusement vibrating right against your hands. “Unless, of course, you are already enjoying the perks of marriage.”

You blinked, sharply pushing yourself away from his broad chest. “You wish,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes as you aggressively smoothed down the wrinkled fabric of your white summer dress. “I’m not exactly into lords, anyway. I prefer a much stronger title.”

“Good thing I am not a lord, then,” he replied smoothly. For the first time, he didn't get defensive or angry at the jab. Instead, he just stood there, smiling down at you with a gaze so wicked that you could practically feel the blood rushing straight to your head.

You internally groaned, chastising yourself. Stupid girl. You really should have thought beforehand that he would turn your own words right back on you like that. But before your scrambled brain could piece together a proper, biting retort, the heavy footsteps of the resort's security staff cut you off.

“Are you invited, sir?”

A burly bodyguard in a pristine, light-blue linen suit approached the two of you. His voice was laced with a deep, unmistakable tone of respect; he clearly recognized the King of Asgard, but he was trying to maintain the island's strict protocol.

“Yes,” you intervened seamlessly, sliding in front of Thor. Your training kicked in instantly, and a perfected, dazzling smile etched itself onto your face. You held up your phone, displaying the exclusive, gold-rimmed digital invitation Tony had intercepted.

The bodyguard scanned the screen, nodding, but his cautious gaze quickly drifted down to the massive, terrifying axe gripped firmly in Thor's left hand. “We... do not allow weapons on the resort grounds, sir. If you could leave it with security—”

“Ah, that is easily remedied,” Thor interrupted cheerfully. With a casual flick of his wrist, the massive, razor-sharp blade of Stormbreaker melted away, shrinking down until it transformed into a simple, polished black umbrella. You whipped your head around to look at the object, completely deadpan. “An umbrella? In this weather?” you muttered, gesturing to the cloudless, blazing mediterranean sky.

Thor’s eyebrows furrowed at you, his jaw tightening in annoyance at your public critique. “Well, there is something called a summer rain, sweetheart,” he said, faking an incredibly sweet, doting smile for the sake of the watchibg guard, though his blue eyes promised absolute murder.

“I don’t think it’s going to rain anytime soon, honey,” you shot back, your voice dripping with a deep, sickeningly fake sugary sweetness as your own plastic smile widened. Before you could take another breath, Thor’s massive arm suddenly shot out, wrapping securely around your waist and forcefully dragging you flush into his side for a tight, suffocating hug.

A sharp, undignified yelp tore from your throat at the sudden impact, but you quickly cleared your throat, masking your shock as you gripped his forearm. He was absolutely enjoying torturing you, using the doting husband act as the perfect excuse to handle you however he pleased. You were going to kill him.

“I can make it rain anytime I wish,” he murmured, his tone biting at you in a dangerous, playful whisper that sent an involuntary shiver down your spine. He flashed one last dazzling smile at the bewildered bodyguard. “Now, let us go to our room, yeah?”

After that, the guard politely led you both through the sweeping glass doors toward the main lobby, where a receptionist stood behind a white marble desk, a bright, welcoming smile on her face.

“Welcome to The Sanctuary. Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Odinson,” she said smoothly, but the moment the words left her mouth, you saw her cringe a bit, her eyes darting between the digital registry and your face as she thought the names over. You noticed the hesitation instantly, Odinson did sound incredibly weird when referring to a woman.

“Is that your last name now, madam? Should I call you that?” she genuinely asked, looking a bit flustered, as if she were desperately trying to avoid making a mistake.

A massive grin broke across your face while Thor’s expression instantly soured. Oh, you liked this receptionist already.

“I genuinely have no idea. It does sound completely off when you say it like that, doesn't it?” you said, leaning against the marble desk. Then, you slowly turned your head to look up at him, your eyes wide with mock innocence. “Honey, is my last name Odinson now? Wouldn't that literally just mean I’m a son of Odin? I mea—”

He cut you off instantly, his jaw clenching as he growled under his breath, clearly pissed. “Well, we are in Midgard, darling. So your last name is now Odinson here, no? It is how things are done on this realm.” He forced out a tight, blindingly fake smile, trying his absolute best not to throw off the receptionist standing inches away.

You smiled right back, utterly loving the fact that you had managed to piss him off so quickly. You turned back to the receptionist, giving her a conspiratorial look. “Or you could just call me by my former last na—”

“No.” Thor cut you off again, his deep voice dropping an octave, completely unyielding as his blue eyes threw literal daggers down at you. “She will be referred to as Mrs. Odinson.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, your smile faltering for a split second. That was a remarkably quick, fiercely defensive reaction from him. Why the hell did he care so much about a fake human registry?

Recovering quickly, you huffed out a light, airy fake laugh for the receptionist's benefit, gesturing toward the rigid King beside you. “He gets incredibly defensive in situations like this,” you told her. Then, leaning in slightly, you whispered in a stage-whisper, “Male ego, am I right?” The receptionist let out a quiet, knowing chuckle and nodded her head in absolute agreement, clearly understanding exactly what you meant.

“I will show you to your room then, Mrs. Odinson,” she said, stepping out from behind the marble desk and motioning toward a glass elevator that overlooked the turquoise bay, while waving over a bellboy to take the three giant suitcases from Thor's hands.

Thor let the bellboy take the suitcases, his hands finally free as he followed the two of you toward the glass lift. The receptionist held the elevator doors open, gesturing politely with an extended hand, and once you and Thor stepped inside, she followed, pressing the button for the upper residential levels.

The elevator began its smooth ascent. Thor looked around the glass enclosure, his massive arms folding tightly over his broad chest. The movement made his biceps bulge prominently against the fabric of his t-shirt, and your traitorous eyes immediately darted downward, following the sharp lines of his muscles before you could even stop yourself.

“I like this Midgardian facility,” Thor remarked, his deep voice echoing in the enclosed space as he looked out at the view. “It is quite nice.”

“Me too. Love the design, honestly.” you said smoothly, flashing a perfect, effortless hand gesture, but as your eyes finally flicked away from Thor’s arm, you caught something out of the corner of your eye. A sudden, entirely unknown feeling brewed in the pit of your stomach.

The receptionist was staring at Thor’s arms. And she wasn't just glancing; she was so goddamn focused, her eyes tracing the thick veins of his biceps, that she didn't even notice your lethal gaze cutting right through her.

You were definitely taking it back—you did not like this girl at all.

Before your brain could even process the irrational spike of possessiveness, you acted on pure instinct. You stepped right into his space, cleared your throat sharply, and forcefully reached up to uncross his arms.

“What are—” Thor started, entirely caught off guard by the unexpected intrusion.

He was completely silenced as you forcefully dragged his broad frame down into a tight side hug. Your arm slid securely over his back, anchoring him to you, and you felt his breath hitch violently at the sudden contact. He froze for a second, his chest heaving, before he cleared his throat and let his massive hand find the curve of your waist, pulling you securely against his hip.

You kept your eyes locked dead on the receptionist, claiming your territory with absolute, unyielding dominance. You flashed her a wicked, razor-sharp smile. The girl's cheeks instantly flushed crimson, and she averted her eyes toward the floor, clearly mortified that she had been caught staring at a married man, beside his wife at that.

The second the threat was neutralized, your actions crashed down on you. You had absolutely no idea what had just come over you, or why the fuck you would ever do something like that over Thor. Okay, you probably—definitely did that because the thought of another woman disrespecting you by looking at your husband made you want to commit murder. Correction, supposed husband. Still he was your fucking husband for now and she was looking at him and— It’s all about you really, all good. Nothing to worry about.

Your face burned with a furious heat as you forced your gaze straight ahead, refusing to look at him, but you could feel the immense weight of his blue eyes staring down at the side of your face—burning you, fucking scorching you with an intense, questioning gaze.

Thankfully, the elevator dinged, saving you from the embarrassment.

The doors slid open, and you caught your first breathtaking sight of the upper facility. It wasn't a standard, enclosed hotel corridor. Instead, the elevator opened directly into the brilliant, open air of the cliffside. It was designed like an exclusive luxury resort enclave; the elevator connected the lower main lobby directly to an expansive, sun-drenched outdoor terrace that led to the private villa section of the property.

Stone pathways winded through lush, manicured tropical gardens, flanked by cascading water features and private infinity pools that looked like they hung off the edge of the world. The ocean breeze hit your face instantly, lifting the hem of your white dress, but the burning weight of Thor’s hand still resting firmly on your waist made it impossible to feel the cold.

You followed the receptionist, her eyes now glued strictly forward as she walked, her posture stiff with the embarrassment of the whole situation.

You tried to subtly peel yourself away from Thor’s side, but the moment you moved, the heavy grip of his hand on your waist tightened significantly. Your eyes instinctively glanced upward to him, ready to snap, but he was simply looking around at the passing scenery, appearing completely unbothered by the situation. Why wouldn't he let go? You wondered why the hell he would keep you tethered to his side like this, as if he actively wanted you there.

Then, doing something you thought you would absolutely never do, you let him. You quietly surrendered, allowing him to hold you tight against his hip as you both walked down the sun-drenched stone path.

Other elite couples passed you by, their judgmental eyes scanning you up and down as they noted the stunning, mysterious woman on the arm of the Asgardian King. This is exactly why he is keeping you glued to him, a strict, grounding voice echoed in your mind. Do not forget the objective, or the fact that you both could never, ever like each other like that. You swallowed hard, your own hand involuntarily tightening around his side for a split second. Why the fuck would you even think otherwise?

The receptionist finally approached a secluded, breathtaking cliffside villa. She opened the heavy timber door for you, stepping aside to hand you the room keycards.

The moment you stepped across the threshold, your eyes widened at the sight before you. Your blood ran completely cold. You let go of his waist immediately, and this time he actually let you.

Your hands were slightly shaking as you looked around the massive, sunlit room. Why hadn't you thought of this earlier? Ofcourse. It was painfully obvious. You were pretending to be a married couple on a honeymoon, after all.

You looked beside you only to see Thor standing entirely frozen, his lips slightly agape and his breathing turning shallow and fast as you both simultaneously realized how profoundly fucked up this mission actually was.

There was only one fucking bed.

It was a massive, ultra-luxurious king-sized bed, draped in crisp white linens and pushed directly against the center of the room, facing the glass walls that looked out over the ocean. Thor couldn't believe his own stupidity; how could he have thought he wouldn't have to share a bed with you on a mission where you were supposed to be blissfully in love? This mission was officially going to be the absolute death of him.

He slowly turned his head to look down at you, only to find you already staring up at him with completely bewildered, panicked eyes.

“I hope you like your room. Have a wonderful stay, Mr. and Mrs. Odinson,” the receptionist said, her voice finally breaking the tense silence that had descended upon the room.

The sound of her talking jolted you both out of your shared panic. You didn't even look at her fully, only giving a stiff side-eye and a tight nod before she quickly scrambled out of the room, shutting the heavy door behind her.

The second the click of the lock echoed through the villa, you spun on your heels to face him. Your voice was sharp, defensive, and entirely determined as you pointed a finger at him. “I will sleep in the bed.”

His eyes narrowed at you instantly. “No, I will,” he counter-attacked, and with two long, authoritative strides, he walked over to the bed and sat down heavily on the mattress, trying to claim the territory by physical force. You scoffed loudly, refusing to back down. You marched right over to the edge of the bed and sat down forcefully beside him, turning your body to face him dead-on. “I will,” you repeated stubbornly, your jaw locking.

Thor snorted, a challenge dancing in his blue eyes. “Okay, then. You will simply be sleeping next to me.”

Your eyes widened in sudden panic as you huffed out a sharp breath. “What?” you said, utterly bewildered by the casualness of his suggestion.

He rolled his eyes, gesturing broadly to the sprawling mattress behind him. “This is a massive bed, love. We both can fit, clearly.”

The moment the casual pet name slipped from his tongue, Thor internally bit down on it, desperately trying to maintain his stoic composure. What the fuck is my problem? he wondered, a silent storm raging in his mind as he stared at your flushed face. There was no one here to perform for. The door was locked. Yet his brain was completely short-circuiting.

Your breath hitched in your throat. Why the hell would he call you that when there wasn't a single soul around to witness it? You swallowed hard, trying to inject some of your usual venom back into your voice to hide your racing pulse. “You are ginormous, Thor. You would probably just roll over in the middle of the night and crush me to death or something—”

“I would never,” he said softly, cutting you off. He looked directly at you, his gaze suddenly changing into an intensity so deeply serious, that it made your heart give a treacherous flutter against your ribs.

You gulped, your mind going entirely blank. You tried to grasp for another excuse, another biting retort, but the gravity of his presence was making you forget everything else besides him.

Thor’s eyes roamed all over your face, desperately trying to dissect whatever panicked thoughts were racing through your mind. But as his gaze drifted downward, your bare arms caught his eye.

His breath hitched violently. His eyebrows furrowed into a deep, troubled line as his vision focused entirely on your skin.

How the hell had he never noticed them before?

Faint, jagged scars were littered all over your arms, disrupting your otherwise flawless skin. They were the unmistakable, ghostly remnants of... what? How could you have possibly acquired them? He knew you possessed an advanced healing factor—he had seen you bounce back from lethal battle wounds within hours—so if these marks remained, the trauma that caused them must have been unfathomable. It must have happened before you ever gained your abilities. But how did you even get your powers?

Thor realized, with a jarring pang in his chest, that he knew absolutely nothing about your history. He knew nothing of what had happened to you, where you had come from, or how you had earned those marks. A dark, protective rage began to brew in his chest, his breathing turning ragged as he stared at the faint lines.

You noticed the exact second his eyes shifted. A cold, suffocating dread pooled in your stomach.

Nobody outside of Tony, Steve, Natasha, and Bucky knew what had happened to you. Tony and Steve knew because they were the ones who had found you, breaking into that dark Hydra facility to save your life. Natasha knew because she was your absolute closest friend, the person who held you through the worst of the night terrors. Bucky knew only because you had trusted him with the truth, knowing he was the only one who truly understood the agony of being a broken, unwilling assassin.

But Thor? Thor hadn't been there when you were saved. He had been worlds away, dealing with the high-stakes matters of Asgard. And you, of course, had never told him. How could you? When he had finally returned to Earth and met you for the very first time, he had simply looked at you deadpan and muttered, “She looks gloomy.”

The comment had broken you. Before he had ever spoken to you, you had thought him absolutely extraordinary. The exact second you had caught sight of his legendary, powerful frame, an intense, quiet attraction had sparked inside you. But he had broken all of that in a single second by calling you gloomy, bruising your defensive ego and forcing you to react in the absolute worst way possible—yelling at him and starting a years-long war of petty arguments. He was the only person on the team who could ever get you to react with such unhinged irritation.

Now, your heart dropped straight to your stomach at the horrifying thought of him having another piece of leverage over you. He could never know the truth. You couldn't let him see your vulnerability.

As you watched his eyes frantically trace the lines on your skin, his massive left hand slowly ascended, his fingers instinctively reaching out to gently touch your arm.

The impending contact made you take a sharp, terrified breath. Your fight-or-flight response slammed into overdrive, and you abruptly stammered out a quick, “I have to pee!” Before he could even respond, you bolted off the mattress, practically running toward the privacy of the bathroom.

You rubbed your face as you gulped, staring at your reflection in the mirror.

I have to pee? Seriously? You couldn’t have found anything better to say?

The faster we are done with this, the better, you thought to yourself, anxiously pacing around the marble bathroom. Steve had said the mission could take anywhere from two days to an entire week. You were strictly determined to wrap this up in two days max—because if you didn't, so help you God, you were going to go completely insane.

You splashed ice-cold water on your face, breathing out a long, shaky exhale. You could do this. You could endure this. This was absolutely nothing compared to the horrors you had survived in your past, but for some reason, why did it feel like this was even worse?

Steeling your nerves, you finally walked out of the bathroom, only to see Thor standing outside on the terrace, his massive back turned to you. Your eyes involuntarily roamed over his broad figure, and you breathed out a long breath to calm your racing heart.

He heard you step into the room—of course he did. He turned back toward you, locking his blue eyes onto your face as he made his way back inside. “I like it here,” he mumbled, looking around the room before his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Where are our things? That servant took—”

Your eyebrows shot up instantly. “Servant?”

“Yes. The one who took our bags.”

You let out an involuntary, nervous giggle as you sat back down on the edge of the bed, rolling your eyes. “Thor, he’s not a servant. He’s a bellboy.” His brow furrowed even deeper. “Bellboy?”

“Yes. People who carry luggage to the rooms in hotels are called bellboys.”

“So... they are servants?” he repeated stubbornly. You huffed, deeply annoyed by his royal dense-headedness. “Thor, do not call anyone a servant to their face. It’s incredibly belittling and—” Right as the lecture was leaving your mouth, a sharp knock echoed from the front door.

“Ah! The servant is here,” Thor declared triumphantly, immediately striding toward the entryway to open it.

“Thor, no—” you gasped, scrambling up from the bed. You were desperately trying to intercept him, wanting to avoid a catastrophic conversation where he would inevitably embarrass the poor resort worker.

But Thor was too fast. He swung the door open and casually leaned his massive shoulder against the wall, watching the bellboy roll your three giant suitcases into the villa’s foyer. However, instead of ignoring you, Thor’s blue eyes were suddenly gleaming with pure mischief as he looked across the room at your panicked face.

Your eyes narrowed into lethal slits. You fiercely mouthed a very deliberate, aggressive 'No' to him.

But seeing your panic only made his smug smile widen. The exact second he opened his annoying, beautiful mouth to speak, your instincts slammed into overdrive. Your brain completely short-circuited. You scrambled over to him in a blind, chaotic rush. Before he could utter a single syllable, you threw yourself into his personal space, your arms wrapping securely around his thick neck as you hopped completely on top of him, forcefully pressing his face right into the crook of your neck to physically muffle his mouth against your skin.

Thor froze dead in his tracks. The sudden impact of your body would have knocked any human man flat on his back, but he didn't even sway. His breath hitched sharply, and his massive hands instinctively shot down, grabbing the back of your thighs to hold you up without breaking a single sweat.

The bellboy’s eyes went completely wide at the unexpected, intensely passionate display.

Your face burned a scorching, furious red as you awkwardly tilted your head back, your arms still locked around Thor's neck. “Just... love my husband so much, you know? Can’t help myself,” you breathed out, your voice strained as you forced a bright, desperately in love smile.

The bellboy nodded quickly, his eyes still dinner-plate wide as he awkwardly parked the luggage.

Thor’s head had been pinned right against your neck, but he suddenly lifted his head up forcefully, his godlike strength easily overriding your desperate attempt to hold him still.

“Cannot keep her hands to herself, this one,” Thor told the bellboy, a deep, rumbling chuckle vibrating through his chest. He was smiling brightly, clearly enjoying every single second of this absolute ordeal.

You literally could not believe you had just done that. You were just trying to spare the poor worker’s feelings, and—okay, fine, you absolutely did not need to jump on top of him like a koala. But in that split second of panic, your brain had completely ruled out kissing him as an option—obviously, because why were you even thinking of it in the first place?—, leaving you with no choice but to launch yourself at him to take him off guard.

The mortified bellboy practically scrambled out of the villa, quickly wishing you both a good day before slamming the door shut.

You let out a massive sigh of relief, your forehead dropping against Thor's shoulder. You hadn't even been able to give the poor guy a tip. You shook your head in deep disapproval, your gaze finally snapping back up to look at Thor.

And that’s when your brain finally caught up to the reality of your physical situation.

The room was dead silent. Thor was staring down at you with an incredibly intense, dark, and unreadable gaze. He was still holding you entirely aloft in his arms. Your legs were circled tightly around his broad waist, his heavy hands were gripping the bare skin under your thighs, and your goddamn summer dress had completely ridden up your legs. The direct, calloused touch of his palms against your skin was burning you like liquid fire.

Your breathing suddenly grew shallow and fast. Oh god. You needed to get off of him right now.

You swallowed hard, subtly shifting your weight to slide down, but his grip remained like iron bands. You couldn't move.

“You can let go now, you know?” you whispered, your voice lacking its usual bite as you stared into his intense blue eyes.

Thor aggressively cleared his throat, looking momentarily startled by how close your lips were to his. But within a fraction of a second, that goddamn smug, teasing smile started slow-burning across his face. You knew that exact expression, and it never meant anything good for your sanity.

“Why?” he murmured, his voice dropping into a low, rumbling rasp that sent a wave of heat straight to your core. “You willingly hopped into my arms, Little Flame. I might as well enjoy the embrace.”

You gasped in absolute outrage, sharply slapping his broad chest with your palm as you desperately tried to wrench yourself out of his grip. He was being annoying, cruel, and completely, fucking insufferable.

“Just let go of me, you pervert!” you snapped, your right hand desperately attempting to peel his iron grip off your bare leg.

He finally let go of you with a low, rumbling chuckle, clearly enjoying annoying you far too much for his own good. “Pervert? I am not the one who jumped blindly into your arms, Little Flame.”

You flushed a furious crimson, sharply turning your back to him to hide the heat on your face. “Let's just fucking get ready and try to find some info on our objective,” you muttered tightly. You grabbed one of your massive suitcases, plopping it down onto the luggage rack with a heavy thud, and unzipped it. Behind you, his quiet, amused chuckles continued to bounce off the walls, making your blood boil with pure anger, but you forced your mouth shut.

You aggressively rummaged through your clothes, grabbing a white, high-cut skimpy monokini and a breezy dress to wear over it. Clucthing the fabric to your chest, you marched straight back into the bathroom to get ready.

You locked the door, taking a few ragged breaths to settle your racing pulse. You fixed your hair, and carefully slipped into the monokini and the dress. Standing in front of the mirror, you let out a long exhale, though your face was still burning with a deep, stubborn embarrassment. You could do this. It was just a mission.

You emerged from the bathroom, deliberately looking anywhere but at Thor as he smoothly stepped past you to go get changed himself. You walked over to the vanity, but a few moments later, his booming, deeply confused voice echoed from the other side of the door.

“This just looks like underwear.”

The bathroom door swung open, and Thor walked out, looking down at himself with a bewildered expression. The second your eyes landed on him, you literally choked on your own spit.

He was wearing a pair of simple navy swimming trunks—and absolutely nothing else. No shirt, no linen button-down, nothing to cover the massive expanse of his upper body.

Your eyes involuntarily danced over his frame, your mouth falling slightly agape as you took him in. The midday sun streaming through the glass walls caught every single ridge of his body. Your gaze traced the thick, prominent veins running over his forearms and bulging biceps, moving up to the broad, heavy expanse of his chest, and dropping down to his rock-hard, perfectly sculpted abs.

Oh, fuck. You felt a sharp, electric flutter ignite deep down in your stomach.

“We Asgardians just go into the waters naked to swim, you know,” he stated proudly, adjusting the waistband of the trunks. “This Earth clothing feels ridiculous.”

He was probably referring to times back home when he did exactly that—swimming freely in royal Asgardian lakes, likely with beautiful women. But the sudden, intrusive mental image of going swimming with a completely naked Thor made you gulp harshly, your eyes widening in panic.

And that was the exact moment he caught the state of your face.

Thor froze. His breath hitched in his throat as his blue eyes locked onto you. Your beautiful eyes had darkened with an intense, raw heat, your gaze completely fixed on his bare chest while your sinful lips remained slightly parted. As he watched, your tongue subtly darted out to lick your lower lip, your breathing turning shallow.

The God of Thunder felt his entire frame go completely rigid in the middle of the room.

You were not thinking what he thought you were... were you? For the first time, a heavy, pounding tension that had nothing to do with anger or bickering flooded the air around you. Thor felt his heart skip a beat against his ribs at the terrifying, intoxicating thought of you actually looking at him like that, willing him to step closer.

You closed your eyes then, and the sudden, intrusive thought of him being completely naked with other women infiltrated your mind. It filled you with a strange, unexplainable feeling—a sharp, poisonous ache that you had felt before in your life but couldn't quite put your finger on. Your stomach actively churned at the mental image, a dark wave of possessiveness and frustration twisting tight inside your core mkaing you open your eyes back.

The lung-burning silence broke when you abruptly gulped, tearing your gaze away from his abdomen as your cheeks flared a bright, defensive red.

“Put a shirt on, will you?” you muttered breathlessly.

Without waiting for a response, you spun on your heel and practically bolted out onto the sun-drenched balcony, desperately needing the breeze to help you catch your breath before you completely lost your mind.

Inside, Thor’s eyebrows furrowed deeply. He stood entirely frozen in the center of the room, his heart dropping straight to his stomach at the words you had just thrown at him.

Of course.

Why the hell would he ever think you wanted him? What was he thinking? You obviously were not attracted to him in the slightest. In fact, it was the exact opposite—you clearly disliked him so much that you couldn't even bear to see a glimpse of his bare upper body, which was why you had breathlessly demanded he cover himself up.

Thor let out a low, frustrated groan, bringing his massive hands up to aggressively palm his face. Why did he even care so much? Why did your rejection sting like needles on his skin?

Steeling his posture, he marched back over to his suitcase, snatched up a matching navy t-shirt, and harshly yanked it down over his head, hiding his chest from view. He desperately needed a fucking drink. He was entirely certain there wasn’t a single alcoholic beverage on this entire planet that could properly numb his brain right now. Not even heavy Asgardian ale could get him drunk enough at this point. He actually was fucking sure there wasn't a single drink in the entire universe that could make him drunk enough to forget about you, your angelic face, these unexplainable feelings, and the damning fact that you absolutely hated him.

“Let’s go,” his deep voice boomed behind you.

Startled out of your thoughts on the balcony, you turned around and walked back inside the air-conditioned room. You quietly followed him as he strode over to the heavy front door, swinging it open and standing firmly in the entryway as he waited for you to walk past.

You went out, your wedge sandals clicking softly on the stone path as you took a deep breath of the humid air, trying to reset your frayed nerves. As you made your way down toward the main infinity pool with Thor by your side, you suddenly felt a firm, sudden tug on your hand.

Because you had left the villa first, you had been walking a few paces ahead of him, but with one effortless pull, he brought you right back next to his side. His massive palm slid against yours, his fingers wrapping around your hand and engulfing it completely.

Your pulse gave a wild, treacherous flutter. Your eyes filled with immediate, defensive questions as you snapped your head up to look at him. Your hand felt like it was on fire, your skin practically melting under the direct heat of his touch. But before you could snap at him, Thor simply gestured with a subtle tilt of his chin toward a few couples who were walking past, watching you closely.

Right. Real couples walked hand-in-hand. You were supposed to be blissfully married, so this was completely ordinary. You forced yourself to nod, your fingers slowly sliding into his, intertwining with his firmly to sell the act.

Before heading over to the pool deck, you stopped by the wooden towel stand. You grabbed two plush beach towels, offering a polite, dazzling smile and a quiet thank you to the young worker who handed them over. As you began walking toward two vacant, prime sunbeds you had spotted near the edge of the water, Thor leaned down significantly to get right on your level.

His warm breath brushed against your ear as he whispered, “Lots of servants here.”

You immediately looked up at him, your eyes boring holes into his face. “Thor, they are resort employees. Stop it,” you hissed under your breath.

A smug, infuriating smile broke across his face. He was clearly enjoying the easy way he could piss you off. Still, his hand didn't release yours; his fingers remained tightly engulfed around your hand as you finally settled right next to the vacant sunbeds.

He finally let go of your hand, though his blue eyes remained highly alert, scanning the perimeter. He took in the entire scene—the crowded pool bar, the glittering water, and the exclusive guests. Upbeat lounge music pulsed quietly from the hidden outdoor speakers as his gaze tracked the crowd.

His eyes locked onto a specific target sitting near the bar: a man with a distinct scar slicing through his left eyebrow, short black hair, and deeply bronzed skin. The stool next to the man was vacant, and he was casually sipping on a dark amber liquor—what Thor recognized as whiskey, a Midgardian drink he had tried during his time with the Avengers.

Thor turned his head back to tell you he had spotted their mark, but the words got caught in his throat.

You had already slid your dress off, leaving it pooled on the side of the chair. You were now sitting down comfortably on the sunbed, your bare legs stretched out in front of you.

The sight of your exposed skin and the incredibly skimpy, high-cut beachwear made a sudden rush of blood boil furiously through Thor's veins. His gaze darkened instantly, his eyes helplessly mapping the smooth expanse of your collarbones, your chest, and your fucking perfect legs. Oh, fuck. He literally couldn't breathe. The air vanished from his lungs, and he averted his eyes toward the sea, his heart hammering so wildly against his ribs he thought it might actually beat its way straight out of his chest.

Desperate to cool down, he aggressively cleared his throat and grabbed the hem of his t-shirt, yanking it off his body.

Your eyes remained glued strictly ahead of you, stubbornly refusing to spare him a single glance. You heard the rustle of fabric and the distinct sound of him tossing the shirt onto the table, but you refused to face him. You unfortunately felt far too many weird, dangerous things flipping in your stomach whenever you looked at his bare chest, and you weren't about to risk your sanity now. Fuck this entire operation, really, you thought bitterly.

You heard the sunbed creak as his massive weight sat down on the lounge chair right next to yours. Your positions were exactly identical, your legs laid out parallel to each other on the matching cushions. You were close—entirely too close.

Needing to ground yourself and focus on the mission, you leaned over toward him, lowering your voice to a sharp, determined whisper. “We either finish this in two days or an entire week. Let’s get this over with quickly, so that I do not have to be your wife for another—” But you had made the catastrophic mistake of turning your head to look at him while you whispered. The words died completely in your throat, and the remaining oxygen was brutally taken right out of your lungs.

Thor had laid back against the cushion, his massive, bare arms raised up next to his head to support the back of his neck. The position made his biceps and shoulders bulge spectacularly under the sunlight, the lines of his chest stretching taut.

“...second,” you trailed off breathlessly, your voice dropping to a faint whisper as you quickly snapped your head back to stare blindly at the water in front of you.

“I agree,” Thor said simply, his deep voice carrying a gravelly, tight edge as he stared straight ahead, too. “This whole ordeal is ridiculous, I’ll tell you that. There is absolutely no need to drag it out.”

You laid perfectly still on the sunbed, the intense heat baking your skin, but it was nothing compared to the suffocating tension radiating from the man lying right next to you.

What’s happening to me? you wondered frantically in your mind, trying to ground yourself as you looked around the bustling pool area. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the man with the scarred eyebrow, and a cold jolt of recognition hit you. He looked familiar because he was your target. Valentin Moretti, the spoiled, arrogant playboy of the family who handled the high-society entertainment and smuggling logistics at the resort. He was the only middleman who held the digital decryption keys to the Dark Elf tech you and Thor were trying to locate.

And right now, he was staring right at you.

The second his eyes hit you, his posture shifted. His dark eyes narrowed, deliberately burning their way down the length of your body, lingering heavily on the high-cut lines of your white monokini and your bare legs. A smooth, predatory smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. He raised his whiskey glass in a silent, incredibly bold toast directly toward you.

“I was just about to tell you I spotted our target, but it seems like he spotted you,” Thor grumbled. He glared over at Valentin, his blue eyes darkening to a stormy hue as his hands clenched into massive, white-knuckled fists behind his head. “Why the fuck is he staring at you like that?” he muttered, every single muscle in his broad frame clenching tight as he fought a losing battle to keep himself from doing something stupid. Like striking the fucker with a stray bolt of lightning.

“Thor, keep your eyes straight ahead,” you hissed back under your breath, stubbornly refusing to look at him. “Tony said he runs the security and digital access keys for the entire compound. If he’s interested, it means we have an opening.”

“An opening to what?” Thor muttered, his tone sharply biting. “He is vile. Look at how he comports himself.”

“An opening for me to get to know hi—”

“Absolutely not,” he interrupted, his voice cutting through the humid air like a sharpened blade.

Your eyebrows furrowed deeply. “What do you mean? We need him, Thor!” you whisper-shouted, sharply turning your body toward him.

He was staring literal daggers across the pool deck, his biceps bulging prominently as he breathed. He looked absolutely furious. You scoffed internally. Did the mere thought of another man being interested in you anger him this much? Did he despise you so profoundly that he couldn't even entertain the thought that a man could actually find you attractive? You breathed sharply through your nose like an enraged bull; you absolutely could not let his fragile ego fuck up this entire operation.

“I am going to the ladies room,” you announced abruptly.

You sat up, your hips shifting with a natural, subtle sway as you swung your legs off the lounge chair. The movement drew Thor’s intense gaze straight to your back, his eyes tracking you with the exact same heavy focus as a certain someone across the pool deck. Thor’s jaw clenched so hard a muscle ticked in his cheek. He knew exactly what you were doing; he was not fucking stupid. You were trying to get away from him to corner the target alone. And he was absolutely not going to let you.

You marched into the restroom, deliberately waiting inside for two full minutes to give Valentin time to notice your absence. When you finally emerged back into the bright sunshine, your eyes instantly scanned the area for Thor, but you couldn't find his giant frame anywhere near the sunbeds. Your brows knitted in concern. Where the fuck is he? You shook your head, dismissing the thought.

Continuing your way, your strides remained purposeful, your hips swaying with an intoxicating rhythm as you confidently made your way over to the open-air pool bar. You stopped right next to two stols away from Valentin, placing your hands flat on the polished marble counter.

“A cosmopolitan, please,” you told the bartender, flashing a polite smile.

Beside you, Valentin smirked and got up, sliding onto the stool right next to you. “Good afternoon,” he smoothed, his voice dripping with an arrogant, upper-class accent as he looked down at your frame. His smirk widened. “I don’t mean to intrude, but I haven't seen your face at the Sanctuary before. I am Valentin.”

You immediately forced your perfected, dazzling smile onto your face, tilting your head up to look at him. “Hello,” you said, your voice smooth, breathy, and entirely welcoming as you deliberately played the part.

Valentin’s dark eyes flashed with deep approval at your response. But just as he opened his mouth to speak, a heavy, solid weight crashed into your side.

A massive, bare arm wrapped securely around your waist, his fingers gripping your skin so tightly that your breath instantly hitched in your throat.

“Here you are, darling,” Thor muttered, leaning down so close his lips practically brushed your ear, though his icy gaze remained dead-locked onto Valentin.

“Here I am,” you said through your teeth. You forced out a light, airy giggle for appearance's sake, but underneath the counter, you aggressively pinched the skin of his arm. Just what did he think he was doing?

In response, his grip only tightened, anchoring you flush against his solid hip.

Valentin looked between the two of you, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise, though his arrogant smirk remained firmly in place. “Your companion didn't seem to care you were there just minutes ago,” Valentin noted smoothly, turning his attention entirely back to you and deliberately stepping a fraction closer to your space. “If you ever find yourself bored with the company, cara, I am always hosting private tastings in the VIP lounge upstairs. A woman of your taste shouldn't be left to just bake in the sun.”

Valentin finally flicked a dismissive, incredibly brief glance toward Thor, taking in his towering height, his bare chest, and his silent, murderous expression. Valentin chuckled softly under his breath, entirely assuming Thor was just some brainless, handsome trophy husband you kept around for arm candy.

You felt your eyes briefly close in pure panic as Thor tried to keep his mouth shut. The tension radiating off him was terrifying; he pulled you even harder against his side, his thumb digging into your waist. Didn't this mortal idiot know who he was dealing with? The God of Thunder looked like he was about to rip Valentin’s head off his shoulders and toss it directly into the infinity pool.

“My husband,” you intervened quickly, emphasizing the word heavily while throwing Thor a sharp, lethal warning glare, “is just enjoying the peace. But thank you for the invitation, Valentin. We might just take you up on that.”

“I look forward to it,” Valentin murmured, his eyes giving your body one last, shameless scan down to your bare legs. He gave a polite nod and turned back toward the bar, entirely unaware of how close he had just come to an early grave.

Thor practically dragged you out of there, his heavy grip guiding you back toward the sunbeds.

The second Valentin was out of earshot, you let out a sharp breath, turning your head to hiss at him. “What do you think you're doing?!”

Thor didn't even spare you a glance, his jaw set in a rigid line as he kept on walking, dragging you right along by his side. “I am not doing anything.” You huffed, sharply slapping his bare arm. “Thor, you're going to ruin everything!” He acted completely deaf, ignoring your slap as he kept his heavy strides forward.

“Tomorrow,” you whispered fiercely, leaning in closer to his side so none of the passing guests could overhear. “I am going to have to flirt with him to get those access codes, and you will not do things like what you just did!”

Thor’s head snapped toward you so fast your breath caught harshly in your chest. His blue eyes were burning, fucking scorching into yours with an unhinged look.

“You will not,” he growled.

You scoffed loudly, throwing your head back. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he said flatly. He finally let go of your waist, sitting back down heavily on his sunbed.

You remained standing over him, your hands flying up in pure frustration. “Is the concept of a man finding me attractive such a foreign concept to you?!” you whisper-shouted, your chest heaving.

He didn't respond as he kept looking at Valentin, his jaw locking into a tight, defensive line. Ofcourse he did not, and that was the exact problem. Any man who set their eyes on you would find you attractive and he could not fucking stand it.

It's because you cannot stand her, his mind echoed, but he knew something was desperately wron g with him.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Valentin was still watching the two of you from the bar, clearly reveling in the fact that he had caused a little disagreement between the stunning woman and her brute of a husband. Thor’s eyes darkened even further as he tracked Valentin's amused expression.

Your gaze followed Thor's, landing right on the smug target.

“Are you serious?” you muttered to Thor. Then, turning your head toward the bar, you deliberately forced a sweet smile and gave Valentin a little, subtle wave.

You turned back to Thor, sitting down forcefully on your own sunbed. “I will do what I have to do, Thor,” you said coldly, snatching up a glossy fashion magazine from the side table—one of the resort’s complimentary services.

“We’ll see about that,” Thor muttered back, his voice dangerous.

You didn't respond, your own jaw locking in a fury so intense you wanted to wrap your hands around his thick neck and strangle him.

So yeah, your day was going exactly the same. You had wanted to strangle him in the morning, and you wanted to strangle him right now. Not a single thing had changed, other than the fact that he was now your supposed husband.

You aggressively kept on turning the glossy pages of the magazine, but your gaze followed Valentin precisely. Between the articles, your sharp eyes roamed over every single person on the pool deck, dissecting them and their behaviors, mapping out the security hierarchy of the resort. But you got bored after a while, the heat and the tension becoming too much to sit through. Deciding you needed a distraction, you stood up from your sunbed to go into the pool.

The moment you stood, Thor’s intense gaze focused directly in on your stomach. The air left his lungs. There, cutting across your midriff, were the exact same faint, jagged scars. His blood ran entirely cold. Just how many of those did you have hidden across your body? He felt his stomach churn painfully, his hands going completely cold despite the blistering sun. But just as he watched you walk down the shallow steps into the water, he fucking saw Valentin look at you again.

Just why did this guy not give up?

Thor felt something violent biting at him inside—something so utterly convincing and overwhelming that his face hardened into stone. He got up immediately, his towering frame casting a shadow over the lounge chairs as he followed you straight into the water.

You were already in the pool, the cold water instantly relieving your burning skin. You swam smoothly toward the far edge, propping your elbows up on the smooth marble so you could lay your head on your hands and finally relax.

Just as you were settling in, a calm expression finally washing over your face, the entire pool rattled with the force of someone jumping in.

You whipped your head around, your eyes wide with irritation. Thor emerged from underwater a split second later, a smug, breathless smile on his face as he broke the surface just inches away from you.

“Can I not relax in peace now?” you snapped between your teeth.

But the remaining words were brutally taken right out of your lungs. Before you could slide away, Thor wrapped his massive hands securely around the back of your bare thighs, effortlessly lifting your body up in the water. The sudden momentum left you with no choice but to instinctively circle your legs around his broad waist to keep from slipping.

“What are you doing?” you whispered into his ear, completely breathless. Despite the panic racing through your veins, you forced a bright, blinding honeymoon smile for the sake of the couples swimming near you, whose bewildered, intrigued expressions were already focused entirely on the two of you.

“I am enjoying the cold water with my wife,” he murmured back. His warm breath fanned heavily over the sensitive skin of your neck as he intentionally cornered you, crowding your front while your back was pressed against the marble edge of the pool you had been relaxing on seconds ago.

Your hands instinctively found his neck, your fingers gripping his shoulders while your thumbs lightly played with the short hairs at the nape of his neck. You looked at him, your lips dangling a mere inch away from his. You could feel his steady breath fanning over your mouth, making your lips tingle with soul-burning want.

Why the hell were your lips tingling with want? Oh, god. Your face burned with a furious, internal heat as your eyes helplessly locked onto his mouth. Both of your chests heaved, brushing against one another in the water.

“I am not your real wife, Thor,” you breathed out, trying desperately to ground yourself. “I don’t need you touching me every five seconds—”

“I don’t need anyone here thinking you are available.”

“What?” you whispered, your heart giving a massive flutter against your ribs.

“Fake or not, Little Flame,” he growled softly, his blue eyes turning incredibly dark as his grip on your thighs tightened. “I am your fucking husband, and every man on this island will know it. I will make sure of it.”

He smirked, and before you could even process his words, he leaned in and pressed a firm, lingering kiss directly to your flushed cheek. You gasped in absolute shock, your skin scorching where his lips met your face. As he pulled back just a fraction, your noses brushed. You looked directly into his eyes, feeling yourself grow hotter and hotter and hotter—

“My honorary guests! You made it!”

A booming, boisterous voice suddenly erupted from above you. You both snapped your heads up, startled out of the suffocating bubble, and saw Alejandro Moretti himself standing on the pool deck. He was smiling down at the two of you, his arms spread wide in a grand, welcoming gesture.

You aggressively cleared your throat, your training forcing you to seamlessly recover. “Hello, Mr. Moretti. It's a pleasure to meet you,” you said, forcing a dazzling smile as you introduced yourself and extended a wet hand up toward the him.

He immediately took it, bowing his head slightly. “It is my absolute pleasure,” he said warmly. “You are the wife of the mighty Thor, after all!” He chuckled loudly, before turning his glowing gaze entirely back to Thor. “Big fan, man. Big fan.”

Moretti extended his hand toward him, and Thor took it, a wide, proud smile immediately breaking across his face because he was being praised. God, he absolutely loved being praised, didn't he?

Moretti started talking rapidly, listing off Thor’s various accomplishments while keeping a firm, enthusiastic grip on his hand. Rolling your eyes privately, you used the distraction to unwrap your legs from Thor's waist, pulling yourself off his torso and slipping back into the water.

The moment you detached yourself, Thor's hand snapped out, tightening firmly around your wrist. He immediately tore his attention away from Moretti, looking down at you. “Where are you going, sweetheart?”

The casual nickname made your entire stomach flutter dangerously.

“Gonna go dry off, honey,” you said, matching his energy as you pulled yourself up slightly to plant a swift, fake peck on his cheek. “Just a bit cold.”

“I will come with you,” Thor insisted immediately, his cheek burninh as his eyes tracking your movement.

“Ah, newlyweds,” Moretti chuckled fondly at the display, shaking his head. “Always so full of love, am I right?”

You gave him a dry, polite chuckle and quickly swam toward the pool steps to get out. As you and Thor stepped onto the stone deck, grabbing your towels, Moretti walked right alongside you, refusing to leave Thor’s side for even a single second. It was like he wanted Thor all to himself.

How can someone not want him, though? the thought involuntarily slipped into your mind.

You froze dead in your tracks, your towel clutched tightly in your hands as your own mind echoed back to you.

No. You did not want him. Certainly not. You didn't, you couldn't—

You closed your eyes, letting out a long, defeated sigh.

You fucking wanted him. And he could never know.

—

You were getting ready, painting a sharp, precise wing of black eyeliner over your eyelid as you desperately tried to keep yourself intact.

Moretti had invited the both of you to the exclusive resort party taking place tonight. Well, you were going to go either way for the sake of the mission, but he had explicitly invited you as his honorary guests.

After the you realizedthat you actually wanted Thor, you had started to see him in an entirely different light. You had felt physically nauseous by the fact that you wanted him, wanting nothing more than to run back to the villa to self-reflect and figure out exactly where your life had gone wrong. But he had not left you alone for a single second. The moment you had said you were going to the room, he had immediately gotten up and followed you back to the room. He had looked so genuinely caring while doing it, which only made an unwelcome swarm of butterflies erupt in your stomach. And the fact that he looked so so good—

Ugh, you were doing it again.

“Are you ready, Little Flame?” came Thor’s deep voice from behind the bathroom door.

You took one good look at yourself in the mirror, your gaze traveling down from your flawless makeup to the white midi dress that hugged your curves perfectly, down to your elegant heeled sandals. You looked hot. Absolutely lethal.

You swung the bathroom door open, only to be hit dead-on with the sight of him waiting in the foyer.

His lips parted, falling slightly agape as his eyes traveled over you, taking you in. His towering, formidable frame was clad in tailored cream linen trousers and a crisp white linen shirt, finished with beige loafers.

Your heart stopped dead in your chest. Was he actively trying to kill you? He was already breathtakingly handsome on a regular day, but the fact that he was dressing like that was doing completely unspeakable things to your sanity.

Thor felt the air brutally ripped from his lungs the exact second you emerged. His blue eyes aggressively roamed over your face, your sharp eyeliner, and the way the white dress accentuated your flawless form. Now, why the hell did you have to look like this and still have the absolute audacity to hate him?

His breathing became distinctly ragged, his eyes darkening to a stormy, dangerous hue as the possessive thought of other men witnessing your beauty tonight overtook his mind. But he forced his muscles to relax as he reminded himself that this hotel was strictly full of wealthy couples. It was fine. You were anchored to him. Right?

“Let’s go, big guy,” you said, averting your gaze in absolute panic as you brushed past his broad shoulder and made your way out of the villa.

Thor’s eyebrows shot up in utter bewilderment. He stood frozen for a second before turning to follow you out onto the stone path closing the door behind him, his voice clearly dripping with a deep, rumbling amusement. “Big guy?”

Your face burned a scorching, furious hot at your own slip of the tongue. You usually never called him anything other than petty names specifically engineered to irritate him, so what the fuck was that now?

“You... are massive. And a man?” you stammered out, desperately trying to make light of the situation as you walked ahead of him, your heels clicking sharply.

“Hm,” Thor just grunted behind you. You couldn't see his face, but you could hear the triumphant smile in his voice as the two of you made your way down toward dinner.

The revelation that you were actually attracted to him was making you go completely crazy, and you were already fucking it all up. Your brain was entirely short-circuiting over how mind-numbingly handsome he looked in that white linen shirt, and calling him big guy of all things was proof that you were losing your edge. All through dinner, you were on high alert, desperately trying to hide your lingering glimpses toward his muscular arms and his stupidly handsome face, praying he wouldn't notice the sudden shift in your behavior.

Dinner itself had been an exercise in damage control. Thor had absolutely loved the food, boisterously shouting “Another!” to the waitstaff every time he finished a plate, leaving you to look at the waiters with highly apologetic eyes. You had quickly smoothed it over, telling them with a charming laugh how incredibly enthusiastic your husband was about their exquisite cuisine. Far from being offended, the staff had been completely fascinated by Thor, even asking for his signature—though the poor guys couldn't take any pictures due to the resort's strict high-society privacy policy.

Once dinner was finally over, you made your way to the actual party.

The bass from the music blasted your ears off the second you walked through the entrance. Thor’s heavy hand was firmly circled around your waist, gluing you to his side as you looked around the crowded open-air venue. You bit your lip, doing everything in your power to mask your fastened heartbeat and the slight panic tracing your expression. To maintain the doting newlyweds facade, your own arm was stretched across Thor’s broad back.

And god, how magnificent that back was. Through the thin linen of his shirt, you could feel the solid, dangerous planes of his muscles right beneath your palm. It made you wonder, in a rogue, intrusive thought, if you could paint that flawless skin red with your nails, leaving little scratches down his—

oh my god, shut up, girl, you fiercely scolded yourself in your mind, your face flashing a blistering hot.

As you walked deeper into the VIP section toward Alejandro Moretti’s table, you spotted Valentin right next to him.

The exact millisecond Valentin came into view, you could feel every single muscle in Thor’s body tense up beneath your hand. Pure instinct took over, you gave the small of his back a soft, deliberate little squeeze, a silent warning to stay grounded.

The touch made Thor instantly look down at you, his blue eyes full of an intense, sweeping emotion you couldn't quite name. Your mind raced. Why the fuck were you trying to calm him down? And why the hell was he getting so intensely tense in the first place?

“Don’t make a scene,” you whispered fiercely up to him, looking at him through your lashes as you kept your voice strictly beneath the thumping bass.

“Do not make me make a scene,” he grumbled back, his deep voice heavily unpleased as his grip on your waist tightened.

Alejandro Moretti immediately got up from his leather booth the moment he saw you approach. “Ah! Here they are!” he announced loudly, his arms thrown wide open in a grand greeting.

Thor smiled brightly, his deep, booming laugh filling your ears as he stepped forward to enthusiastically embrace the billionaire, playing the part of the larger-than-life husband a little too well. You let out a bright, airy laugh right on cue, looking up at them as you seamlessly executed the role of the loving, supportive wife.

From across the table, Valentin was staring directly at you, a confident, knowing smirk pulling at his lips.

Alejandro turned proudly to his younger brother, gesturing toward the two of you. “My guests of honor, Valentin! This is Thor, and his lovely wife.”

Valentin’s dark eyebrows furrowed in immediate confusion. “Thor?”

“Yes! The God of Thunder!” Alejandro chuckled heartily, totally oblivious to the shift in the air as he gestured for everyone to sit down.

The arrogant smirk was instantly wiped entirely off Valentin’s face. He stood frozen, likely wondering how the hell he hadn't recognized the literal Avenger at the pool bar earlier.

“Ah,” Valentin cleared his throat, cautiously extending his hand across the table, even as Thor threw absolute, unyielding daggers at him with his icy gaze. “My pleasure.”

Thor’s lips pulled into a wide, bright smile as he reached out and took Valentin’s hand. But you knew that exact smile entirely too well—it was the predatory, sharp-edged smile he regularly threw at you whenever you managed to annoy him to death in public. It was the smile of a Thor who was profoundly angry, masking his rage with a lethally graceful diplomacy.

His godlike grip must have tightened a fraction too much around Valentin’s fingers, because the smug playboy’s face instantly grimaced in pain, his knuckles turning white under the force of the god’s hand.

You tapped lightly on Thor’s elbow, giving him a subtle, pointed signal to let go before he completely pulverized the man's hand. He finally released his grip, though his blue eyes continued to burn right through Valentin, his other arm instantly wrapping tight around your waist again to pull you back into his orbit.

You went to sit down in the plush leather booth, but Thor deliberately shuffled his massive frame, placing himself directly between you and Valentin to completely block the playboy's line of sight. You rolled your eyes privately. He was obviously being this intensely possessive because the entire resort had to believe you were blissfully married, but he was playing the part a little too well for your sanity.

Alejandro, ever the fanboy, was visibly disappointed by the seating arrangement—he was now sitting on your other side instead of right next to the God of Thunder—but he stopped himself from saying anything to avoid offending his royal guest.

So began the endless praises for Thor.

“I must say, King Thor, having you here at the Sanctuary is a historic honor!” Alejandro beamed, gesturing for a waiter to pour more whiskey. “The stories of your victories on Earth, the Battle of New York, the triumph over Malekith... truly spectacular! A god walking among mortals!”

Thor smiled brightly, his booming laugh easily cutting through the lounge music as his arm remained locked securely around your waist, his thumb lazily stroking your side through the fabric of your dress. “Ah, you are too kind, Alejandro! But a King must protect the realms. The battle against the Dark Elves was indeed a fierce one, requiring absolute precision and power.”

As he spoke the word precision, Thor casually leaned back, his icy gaze flicking past you to check if Valentin was looking at you. Finding Valentin’s eyes darting toward your bare shoulders, Thor’s grip on your waist tightened possessively, his jaw clenching as he seamlessly continued his story. “We had to secure ancient, dangerous technologies to ensure they never fell into the wrong hands. It takes a truly formidable force to handle such secrets.”

“Incredible,” Alejandro said, hanging on his every word. “And to manage such cosmic feats while keeping a beautiful wife by your side!”

“She is my greatest anchor,” Thor murmured, his deep voice dropping into a low tone as he turned his head to look down at you. His eyes searched your face with a burning, unreadable intensity that made your heart skip a violent beat. “No matter how chaotic the universe becomes, she is the only one who can truly command my attention.”

You gulped, your eyes helplessly searching his face, desperately trying to read the heavy gravity in his expression. But before you could decipher it, a question cut through the air—one you should have anticipated much sooner.

“So, how did you two meet?” Valentin asked, his voice smooth as he leaned forward. His dark eyes actively tried to find your frame past Thor's broad shoulders, but Thor was absolutely wiping you from his sight, shifting his weight to keep you entirely hidden.

Your blood ran cold. A sudden wave of panic rushed through you, and as you snapped your eyes to Thor, you saw the exact same flash of panic mirrored in his blue eyes. You had never rehearsed a backstory.

“I saw him—” you began hastily, just as Thor started, “We saw each other—”

Your voices mixed awkwardly over the thumping bass of the music. Alejandro looked between the two of you expectantly, his eyebrows raised.

You quickly forced a light, melodic laugh, covering the slip-up as you spoke over each other. Tilting your head up, you offered Thor a brilliant, adoring smile. “My husband should tell you about this one. He’s a real good storyteller, aren't you, darling?” You squeezed his shoulder, your fingers digging into his shirt.

Thor’s hold tightened around your waist, his thumb pressing firmly into your side. “I must let you take over this one, my dear. Your perspective is far more enchanting.”

“I insist,” you said, your voice dripping sweet as honey, though you locked eyes with him in a silent, lethal challenge. You knew pushing the spotlight onto him annoyed him to his absolute core.

“Very well,” he grumbled under his breath, leaning back into the booth. He cleared his throat, his posture shifting into something commanding. Valentin had slid over a bit to the side of the table, desperate to finally see you both, his sharp eyes intensely dissecting the two of you for any cracks in the facade.

“We met years ago, when she was first recruited to the team,” Thor began, his deep baritone rumbling through his chest. He paused, his blue eyes dropping down to look at you, the heavy lounge music suddenly fading into absolute background noise. “I saw her walk into the room. A beautiful woman. Truly, the most breathtaking creature I had ever laid my eyes upon.”

You looked up at him, fully expecting to see a detached, calculated look in his eyes—the face of a soldier executing a calculated lie. But your heart slammed against your ribs. You were shaken to your core at the raw, truthful look in his gaze. Your breath hitched, turning ragged in your chest.

He chuckled softly, the sound low and intimate, as if he had completely forgotten Alejandro and Valentin were even sitting across from them. “But she looked like she had dark, stormy clouds swarming all over her. She was so heavily guarded. So, my brain short-circuited, and I called her gloomy.”

Alejandro’s eyes widened, a grin breaking across his face. “No way!”

Your jaw clenched as the vivid memory made your blood boil all over again. Why the fuck was he telling them what actually happened?

“I know, I shouldn't have,” Thor murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. His gaze was burning into you, scorching you with a look that made your skin prickle. “But seeing her face... my mind simply stopped working. That was the only thing I could utter. And do you know what she did?” He looked over at Alejandro, a genuine, fond smile pulling at his lips. “She didn't cower. She didn't stay silent. She yelled at me. She marched right up to my face and screamed about what a massive, insufferable asshole I was.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in deep, defensive confusion. Wht was he chuckling about that? He had hated you for it.

“She was the first woman to ever yell at me like that, without a single shred of fear, without holding back an ounce of her fire,” Thor said, his voice a raspy register, thick with a devotion that felt terrifyingly real. He reached down, his large hand gently cupping the side of your face, his thumb softly tracing your cheekbone. The tender touch sent a violent jolt of electricity straight down your spine. “That’s when I realized... right there, in the middle of her fury. That’s when I realized she was the love of my life.”

You gulped, your hands clenching into tight fists against your lap. The air was brutally ripped from your lungs. You literally couldn't breathe under the sheer weight of his stare. He was looking down at you as if you were the most precious, sacred thing he had ever been allowed to hold.

“Then, I chased her for years,” Thor continued smoothly, finally tearing his gaze away from your frozen face to smile at Alejandro. “Trying to get her to agree to a single date. I brought flowers to her quarters every single day, trying to melt the ice. She finally caved in after a while... and here we are.”

Thor cleared his throat letting go of your face and adjusting his shirt as Alejandro let out a captivated sigh.

Your gaze remained completely stuck on the line of Thor's neck, your mind spinning in absolute confusion. He had sounded so entirely sincere when he described your beauty. The way he explained falling in love with your fire, it sounded like poetry.

He isn't in love with you, a harsh, grounding voice violently intervened in your mind. He is lying through his teeth to save the mission. He made it all up. You desperately tried to pull yourself together, reciting the mantra over and over: He hates you. He has hated you for years.

But as you sat there, enveloped in the heat of his massive body, a sharp ache bloomed deep in your chest at the reminder of his hatred.

Why did your chest ache at his hatred towards you? And why did it hurt so bad?

“That is just beautiful,” Alejandro breathed, raising his glass in a toast. “A match made in the heavens, truly.”

You swallowed the thick lump in your throat, forcefully shaking the daze out of your head. Forcing your muscles to relax, you put on a flawless, dazzling smile for show, leaning deeper into your fake husband's side while your heart shattered quietly into a million pieces.

The subject changed then, Alejandro and Thor talking about other things while Thor gave you occasional little pecks on your cheek, his lips lingering just enough to keep your heart beating frantically in your mouth.

“Why haven't you two kissed?” Valentin asked suddenly, his voice sharply cutting through the conversation of the two men. His dark eyes roamed all over your face, calculating and deeply skeptical.

What?

Thor turned toward him immediately, his posture shifting into something lethal. “What do you mean, mortal? I’ve been doing nothing but kiss her since we sat down.” His blue eyes narrowed into dangerous slits at Valentin.

“You keep kissing her on her cheeks. Why not on the lips?” Valentin pushed, his gaze sharp and dissecting.

Thor’s gaze darkened to absolute midnight. “It is not your place to ask such questions.”

The playboy had been watching you far too closely; you should’ve seen this one coming. Valentin leaned back, a smug, accusatory grin slowly returning to his face. “You’re acting like you’re pretending—”

Your heart stopped dead in your chest.

“Do not speak one more word, mortal,” Thor spoke, his deep voice dropping an octave as he raised a single, threatening finger.

Alejandro’s expression changed instantly. He looked at his brother with sudden seriousness, his tone sharp. “Leave our guests alone, Val.” But then, Alejandro’s eyes dropped down to the floor for a split second, as if he were mentally calculating something. He turned back toward you, his brow furrowing. “But... he is right. Why haven't you kissed her?”

Your heart started beating faster and faster, a wave of ice-cold panic rushing to your fingertips. Your cover was about to be completely blown right here in the VIP section. Thor’s gaze darkened even further, clearly unpleased and deeply tense at being questioned. This was not good. You had to do something, and you had to do it right now.

“She is my wife—” Thor started angrily, but you smoothly interfered.

With an effortless, confident laugh, you dismissed the two brothers with a casual wave of your hand, acting as if they were nothing more than little, annoying flies. Your left hand found Thor’s massive bicep as you elegantly crossed your legs, slanting them directly over his thick thighs.

Responding to the sudden contact, Thor's arm instinctively wrapped around your back, his eyes snapping down to look at you immediately. What were you doing?

“My husband and I are very passionate,” you said, your voice dripping with a sultry, unbothered confidence as your hand trailed seductively over the broad expanse of his chest. “We try to keep the PDA to a minimum so we don't make people uncomfortable. Should we show them, honey?”

You looked completely unshakable, but inside, your heart was threatening to leap straight out of your chest. The skin of your legs burned where your thighs were glued to his.

Thor’s chest heaved tightly beneath your fingers as you looked up at him through your lashes. His heart missed a beat at the breathtaking sight of you in his lap. Fuck. You both knew exactly what had to be done right now, or the entire mission was over.

Thor’s large hand found the back of your neck, his fingers tightening securely. “Music to my fucking ears, darling,” he growled.

And then, he claimed your lips in an instant. The force of the impact took the remaining breath right out of your lungs. Your left hand instinctively grabbed the back of his neck, your fingers anchoring into his skin, while your other hand remained flat against his heaving chest. Your mouths moved in tandem, a low, helpless sigh of contentment pouring from your throat straight into the kiss. Your head tilted to the side, completely surrendering to the heat.

His right hand on your back slid downward to your waist, grabbing you with an iron, desperate tightness, as if he never intended to let you go for the rest of his immortal life. His other hand moved from the back of your neck up to your head, his thick fingers tangling aggressively through your hair, tilting your face up by giving a firm, sudden tug on your hair. You gasped into his mouth, your teeth sharply biting his lower lip in response. Thor let out a low grunt, his kisses instantly becoming more fervent, deeper, and completely unhinged. You were drowning in him.

Next to you, Alejandro and Valentin looked at each other, their faces flushing as they clearly regretted ever opening their mouths. They were visibly uncomfortable—good. They deserved to be, so they would never question a single thing about the two of you again.

He was entirely consuming you, and gods, was he liking it. He felt the soft circle of your thumb over the nape of his neck, sending a violent wave of chills straight down his spine. You tasted sweet—sweeter than any other lips he had ever tasted in his thousand years of life. Thor licked at the seam of your lips once, a non-verbal command motioning for you to open up for him. You tried to fight it for a split second, a last shred of self-preservation, but he forcefully made you part them by giving your lower lip another sharp bite and executing a firm tug on your hair.

You gasped, your chest heaving against his as he glided his tongue over yours. He was so good at this. So fucking good that you completely forgot where you were, forgot the mission, forgot anyone else existed besides him. He tugged tightly on your waist, trying to pull your body even closer into his mass, but you were already entirely glued to him, his radiating heat burning straight through your side.

Alejandro loudly cleared his throat, but you both kept on going like there was no tomorrow, still kissing him with a desperate, hidden hunger, as if you knew you would never get the chance to hold him like this ever again.

“Okay. We get it,” Valentin muttered, his voice clearly irritated and completely full of deep regret.

Thor let out a heavy grunt, finally parting his lips from yours. A thin, glistening string of saliva formed between your lips before breaking in the dim light. You looked up at him, your eyes completely dazed over, your hair beautifully messed up from his heavy hand, and your lips visibly swollen and red. He stared down at you, his own lips flushed and his pupils blown incredibly wide as his chest rose and fell in ragged breaths.

Taking a shallow breath, you slowly turned your head toward the other two men, a wicked, victorious smile pulling at your lips. “See?” you said.

You tried not to give away how much his kiss had affected you, but you knew you were a fucking mess. Your heart was threatening to leap out of your chest, your lungs heaving fast as you gulped, desperately trying to calm yourself down. How the hell did he affect you this much?

And he was still holding you, his arm wrapped incredibly tight around your waist as he kept looking down at you. His own broad chest was heaving hard as he fought a losing battle to get himself back under control.

It was just a damn kiss for the mission. He shouldn't be this completely unhinged by it. But he felt his pulse fasten more and more the longer he sat there. You had kissed him. You—the bane of his very existence, the woman who had spent years yelling at him and riling him up—had kissed him, and he had liked it. He had liked it so much that a dark, primitive part of his mind wanted nothing more than to drag you right back to his lips, to kiss you heavily until you were breathless, and to roam his hands all over your bare skin, thats all—nothing big really.

He fucking wanted you, and it was nothing big—who was he kidding? It was probably the biggest newsflash in his entire thousand-year lifetime. He wanted you so much that he felt it shaking the very foundations of his immortal soul.

I want her, his mind echoed fiercely. I want her, I want to consume her, I want to be completely consumed by her.

Thor averted his eyes toward the table, his jaw locking. Fuck. How the hell did this happen?

“Yes, we get it, damn,” Alejandro said, breaking the heavy silence with a loud laugh, holding his hands up in surrender.

Valentin, however, was a completely different story. His dark, calculating gaze was still locked dead on your face, intensely trying to decipher the lingering daze in your eyes, trying to see if there was still a crack in the armor—if he could keep on pursuing you.

You noticed his stare immediately, your eyes locking onto his. A sharp jolt of reality hit you. You were sitting in Thor's lap, your thighs crossed over his, kissed by him so thoroughly that your mind had gone entirely blank. You had completely forgotten about your objective.

The codes. You needed the damn digital decryption keys.

You had told Thor earlier that you would handle Valentin tomorrow, but after the possessive display he had just put on, he would clearly find a way to interfere if you tried to flirt with the man tomorrow. It had to be tonight. It had to happen right now under the cover of this party.

Your mind rapidly formulated a plan: you had to first find a way to get away from Thor, corner Valentin alone at the bar, seduce him, and slip a few drops of truth serum into his whiskey glass to extract the server access codes.

It was a perfect, textbook assassin execution. But as you sat there, feeling the heavy, protective weight of Thor's hand on your hip, you realized something. You didn't want to leave the comfort of Thor's embrace.

Oh, how thoroughly, hopelessly fucked you were.

You had to get it together. Bracing yourself, you tried lifting your legs off Thor’s lap, but the exact second you shifted, his iron hold on your waist tightened. His eyebrows furrowed into a hard line, and his questioning, blazing blue gaze snapped up to lock onto yours. He didn’t say a word, but the look in his eyes was loudly demanding to know exactly where the hell you thought you were going.

Why was he acting like this? Why was he looking at you as if that kiss had completely unhinged him just as much as it had affected you?

You helplessly looked into his eyes, your gaze involuntarily dropping down to his swollen lips before snapping back up to his stare. “I’m just going to the bar,” you murmured.

“I’ll come with you,” he said immediately. His deep voice carried a rough, unyielding edge, his instincts focusing entirely on one single objective: keep that vile mortal fucker as far away from you as humanly possible.

“No!—” you scrambled out, a little too desperately, before quickly forcing a soft, reassuring smile to maintain the act. “I’ll be back in a second, honey. It’s okay.”

This felt devastatingly real. He looked genuinely jealous, his possessive aura radiating off him in suffocating waves.

“She can go alone, my friend. I own this entire establishment; nothing could possibly happen to her here,” Alejandro intervened with a booming laugh, reassuring the tense god.

Taking the opening, you carefully slipped out of Thor’s tight grip and stood up. The sudden lack of his heavy hands and burning heat against your skin left you feeling instantly cold, a sudden pang of withdrawal hitting you in the chest. You stubbornly ignored it. Catching Valentin’s eye across the table, you held his gaze for a few seconds longer than any happily married woman ever should, throwing him a subtle, inviting tilt of your head before turning on your heel and making your way toward the crowded bar—finally out of Thor’s direct line of sight.

You knew Valentin would make up a pathetic excuse to follow you within minutes. Arriving at the bar, you caught the bartender’s attention. “A virgin mojito, please,” you ordered smoothly. You were a professional; you were absolutely not going to consume a single drop of alcohol while on an active extraction mission.

You waited for a few minutes, slowly sipping on your refreshing mocktail while keeping your perimeter scan active. Right on cue, a smooth, arrogant voice slithered in next to your ear.

“I take it you didn’t look at me like that back there just to have a drink all by yourself?”

Valentin slid onto the barstool right next to you, his eyes brimming with a smug, predatory confidence.

A slow, practiced smirk pulled at your lips as you gracefully turned your upper body toward him, leaning one elbow against the counter. “I don’t think I get what you mean, Valentin.”

“Don’t play innocent. It’s not a good look on you,” he murmured, his eyes boldly dropping down to the neckline of your dress before rising back to your face. “Though, I must admit... I really like this whole going-around-his-back thing. A dangerous woman gets me thrilled.”

“Hm,” you mumbled, your smile becoming as beautiful and lethal as a viper's. You leaned in a fraction closer into his personal space, letting your voice drop into a sultry, confidential whisper. “Are you just going to stand there talking, or are you gonna have a drink with me?”

Valentin’s smirk widened, completely intoxicated by the sudden green light. “I could never say no to a woman like you.” He immediately raised a hand to the bartender. “Get me a double Macallan, neat.”

As the bartender turned around to pour the amber liquor, you covertly slid your right hand into the small, hidden pocket built into the lining of your white midi dress. Your fingertips brushed against the tiny, cold glass vial containing S.H.I.E.L.D.-issued truth serum—colorless, odorless, and fast-acting.

The bartender placed the heavy crystal whiskey glass right in front of Valentin.

“You know,” you purred, deliberately reaching across Valentin's chest to grab a small bowl of nuts from the opposite side of his stool. The intentional movement forced your bare shoulder to brush heavily against his chest, completely breaking his concentration as his eyes locked onto your neck.

With a fluid, invisible grace, your thumb flicked the cap off the vial. As your arm crossed over his open whiskey glass, you seamlessly dropped three drops of the serum directly into the amber liquid.

You pulled back, placing the bowl between you with an innocent, dazzling smile. “A toast. To private tastings.”

“To private tastings,” Valentin echoed darkly, completely oblivious. He picked up the crystal glass and took a massive, confident gulp of the whiskey, swallowing the serum down in one smooth motion.

You counted the seconds in your head. Three. Two. One.

Almost instantly, Valentin’s posture relaxed a fraction too much. The sharp, predatory spark in his eyes suddenly dulled into a slight, hazy glaze, his blinking slowing down as the neural inhibitors rapidly flooded his system, forcing his vocal cords to lose all capacity for deception.

Your smirk turned razor-sharp. It was time to get to work.

“Valentin,” you whispered, leaning in so close your breath brushed his ear, masking your interrogation beneath the thumping bass of the party. “Let’s talk about your brother’s collection. Where are the digital decryption keys for the Dark Elf technology stored?”

Valentin’s jaw loosened, his voice coming out completely flat, devoid of its previous arrogant inflection. “The main encryption drive stays locked in the master server vault... sub-level two of the main villa compound. Hold on why are you asking me th—”

“And how do I bypass the biometric firewall?” you cut him off before he could think.

“The security bypass code changes every twelve hours,” Valentin droned automatically, his hand resting limply against the counter.

“Mhm, and what is it lets say... tomorrow night?” you pushed seamlessly, your eyes locked onto his dazed face.

“Tomorrow night's terminal override sequence for the vault is... Alpha-Niner-Seven-X-Ray-Delta.”

Bingo.

Your brain instantly memorized the alphanumeric sequence, a cold, triumphant rush of adrenaline flooding your veins. You had the codes for tomorrow. The entire mission could be wrapped up in less than three days, just like you wanted. You could finally leave this godforsaken resort, get away from this cover, and most importantly—get away from the dangerous, addictive pull of the God of Thunder.

Valentin pouted as he looked at you, his eyes glassy and confused under the weight of the serum. "But why are you asking me all th—"

“I have to go, dear,” you cut him off quickly, placing a hand on his bicep and giving it a soothing squeeze to keep him compliant.

But his hand snapped up, gripping your arm to keep you from pulling away. “No, you can't leave. I had plans for us tonight...”

“No plans for us today,” you cooed, lowering your voice to a soft, hypnotic purr as you playfully booped his nose. He pouted even more at the gesture. You mentally rolled your eyes, already looking back toward the crowded VIP booth to check on Thor.

“But I wanted to fuck you—“

You whipped your head back toward Valentin so fast you thought you were going to get whiplash. But before you could even react to his crude words, he was brutally cut off.

A massive hand descended from the shadows like a falling meteor, wrapping entirely around the back of Valentin’s head and fiercely slamming his face straight down onto the marble counter.

Crack.

You gasped, your eyes blowing wide. Nearby guests screamed and immediately scrambled away, completely shocked by the sudden, violent ordeal. Valentin let out a pathetic, muffled groan as a dark stream of red instantly started dripping down his nostrils, pooling on the counter.

Thor held him pinned there, his massive hand basically covering most of Valentin's skull. You were so damn sure that if he applied just a fraction more pressure, he would crush the man's head like a ripe grape.

“You do not talk to my wife like that,” Thor growled, his voice a vibrating rumble that shook the very foundation of the bar.

“Thor, stop it!” you panicked, your hands desperately finding his rigid bicep, trying to pull his arm back.

Muffled against the stone, Valentin let out a wet, dizzy chuckle, the serum making him completely reckless. “Well, god-man... your wife lured me here—“

Slam.

Thor violently cracked his head against the counter a second time.

“I told you not to make a scene, didn't I?!”you yelled at the top of your lungs over the blasting music, frantically pulling at his arm to stop him from committing murder.

Thor slowly turned his head to look down at you. His blue eyes were completely blown with an unhinged, primitive rage. “I told you not to make me make one, did I not?!” he yelled back, his booming voice completely overriding the bass of the blasting lounge music.

You involuntarily flinched at the volume and raw power of his voice. You let out a sharp, furious huff, tore your hands off his arm, and turned around to bolt.

“Where do you think you're going?!” he demanded loudly.

He finally let go of Valentin, leaving theman to groan and slump heavily against the bar as you made your way out of the party. Every single eye of the high-society couples was locked onto you, whispering in terror as you stormed past.

“Stop!” Thor yelled after you, his heavy footsteps echoing right behind you, but your steps only fastened into a dead sprint.

You practically flew down the dark, stone paths of the resort, making your way back to the secluded villa. There wasn't a single soul around out here.

“I told you to stop!” he yelled again, his massive strides easily closing the distance as he caught up to you just as you reached the front door.

“And I told you to behave!” you screamed back, throwing the door open and slamming it behind you, desperately trying to force the heavy wood to lock on his face.

But you failed miserably.

“And I told you to stay away from him!” Thor yelled, forcing the door open without a single shred of effort—it was probably like flicking away a fly for him—before he aggressively slammed it shut behind him, sealing the two of you inside the tense silence of the villa.

“Why do you care?!” you yelled, throwing your arms up in the air as you spun around to face him, your face burning hot from rage.

“Why did you defy what I told you?” he pushed, stepping heavily into your personal space, his towering chest heaving.

“Because you are my mission partner, not my superior!”you shrieked, the built-up frustration of the last few hours completely boiling over. “God! You and your insufferable superiority complex!” You yelled again, aggressively turning your back to him to get away from his presence, making a beeline toward the balcony doors.

“Do not walk away from me!” Thor roared.

In two quick strides, he crossed the room. His hand locked firmly around your wrist, his grip unyielding but careful not to break you, as he yanked you back and turned you around to face him dead-on.

You opened your mouth to say something, but all words completely left you as you noticed how your noses were inches away, your breathing fastening to a panicked, ragged rhythm as you looked up at him. His chest was heaving just like yours, the sheer mass of him completely crowding you into the balcony's door. You just gulped, your eyes helplessly finding his lips again before you forced your gaze up to meet his intense stare.

“Why are you acting like you actually care?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly, your eyes filled with deep questioning. His eyes, which were locked onto your lips, finally flicked up to look directly into your eyes. He gulped, a muscle tightening in his jaw as he flatly lied, “I don’t.” He averted his eyes immediately after.

He cared. He fucking cared so much, but he could not let you know.

You scoffed loudly at his terrible deflection. “What’s all this then? You’ve been acting so strange since we got here—” His eyes snapped right back to yours, flashing with a sudden heat. “Oh, like you haven’t!” he said, his iron grip on your wrist tightening just a bit.

“What?” you gaped, your mouth forming a perfect 'O' shape at his audacity. “The nerve of you! I have been acting completely normal!” You aggressively tried to push against his heavy chest to create some distance, but it was like trying to shove a solid brick wall; it was not working.

“Have you, though?” he challenged. His head tilted slightly to the side as he looked down at you, his towering frame completely casting you in shadow. “You’ve been trying to avoid me ever since we arrived. Mind you, we are supposed to be husband and wife here, and instead of me, you kept throwing yourself into the arms of that bastard—”

“Excuse me for acting exactly like I should while we are on a high-stakes mission—”

“Is this how you act while you are on a mission?” he fiercely cut you off. He took a heavy, deliberate step forward, crowding you so completely that you were forced to push your back straight into the balcony door, the glass cool against your skin. His expression morphed into one of deep distaste—like the mere thought of you acting exactly like this on other operations disturbed him to his very bone.

“Not at all, Thor,” you muttered, finally averting your eyes as a wave of genuine discomfort washed over your face. “But I occasionally do have to seduce men here and there. It’s not a big deal—”

His thick eyebrows furrowed deeply. Before you could turn your face away completely, his large hand came up, his fingers gently but firmly catching your chin to force you to look at him. “Not a big deal? Is someone making you seduce them? There are other ways to extract information—” he started, his deep tone initially angry but quickly softening with a rare, unexpected touch of sympathy.

You swallowed hard against the lump in your throat. “Thor, I have been trained this way. And your ways are always too loud—”

“Who the fuck trained you like this?” he growled, the symapthy instantly vanishing into a dark, protective fury. “How many times have you done this, huh?”

Your own eyebrows furrowed in a defensive shield. His entire ftame was looming over you, completely clouding your thoughts and making it hard to think straight. You reached up, removing his hand from your face. “That is absolutely none of your business—”

His entire posture changed as the anger morphed into a heavy gravity. His eyes dropped to your arms first then followed to your midriff before snapping back to your face. “Who gave you those scars?”

“What?” Your eyes widened in pure horror, the air instantly taken right out of your lungs. This cannot be happening, your voice echoed inside your mind. He could not know. You could not let him see that vulnerable, broken piece of your past. “Thor, this is ridiculous. Let me go—”

You tried pushing him away again, your chest heaving in absolute desperation to break free from his hold. But he only used his mass to pin you into the door even more, his gaze intensely determined as his hand found your jaw once again, holding you still.

He was going to find out who those fuckers were, and he was going to make them pay. He didn't fully understand why he had this overwhelming, primitive urge to protect you, but he did, and he was going to deliver on it.

“Please, Little Flame,” he murmured, his voice dropping into a desperate plea. “Are they the same people who trained you?—”

“Why do you even want to know?!” you cried out, your voice finally cracking with deep pain. Tears instantly began brewing in your eyes, blurring his handsome face. He couldn't know. If he found out, he was going to use that knowledge against you. He was going to taunt you with it during your next argument, break you with your own nightmare of a history. He was going to make sure he hurt you, just like he did every single time he managed to get a glimpse of something personal about you. He was going to break your heart completely in half and toss it away.

He was going to, because he was the only person in the universe who actually had the power to do it.

“So you can torture me more?” you whispered, your voice shaking as a single tear escaped down your cheek.

Thor’s breath got caught in his throat. A sudden, physical pain pierced his chest, wrapping around his heart so tightly that he let out a sharp huff of air. It was a pain so great, so profoundly agonizing, that it started burning through his lungs before radiating all the way out to his fingertips.

Is this truly what you thought of him?

He knew he taunted you. He knew he did everything in his being to annoy you on a daily basis. He knew he wasn't your friend, and that you both claimed to dislike each other. But he had never, in his wildest dreams, thought you could actually think him capable of causing you real, deep-rooted pain.

A fierce, protective fire burned brightly behind his blue eyes as he leaned down, his lips practically brushing your temple as he spoke.

“So that I can torture them first as they did you,” he vowed, his voice low, terrifyingly dark promise that vibrated against your skin. “And then permanently remove them from existence.”

Your angelic face twisted into a look of deep, utter confusion. What the hell was he talking about? Why on Earth would he want to do something like that for you?

Thor’s hand softened on your jaw, his thumb gently wiping away the tear on your cheek with a heartbreaking amount of tenderness. He looked down at you, his pupils blown wide with an unyielding devotion. “No... I have a better idea. I am going to tear down whatever sanctuary they think they have, drag them to the deepest pits of Hel myself, and hand-deliver a punishment that will last for eternity. No one touches you, Little Flame. Never again.”

Your heart stuttered at his words, newfound tears completely blocking your vision now at being on the receiving end of them. He sounded so profoundly sincere, so entirely full of devotion that it made your stomach flutter wildly and your heart sing with a bittersweet ecstasy.

Why was he being this protective over you? Was it just because of your mission? Has he started to actually believe the lie, to believe you were truly his wife? And why did you believe every single word he said without an ounce of your usual skepticism?

How was he making your heart soar like this? Why did he have so much power over you, over your poor, guarded heart? Why did he have to be this perfect?

Why did you love him so much?

You gasped aloud as the intrusive thought took the remaining breath away from your lungs. You loved him. You were completely, undeniably in love with him. You were in love with the man who mocked you, annoyed you, tortured you with his words. You were in love with the man you claimed to dislike for all these years.

And that realization only made you cry harder, the tears spilling over your lashes because you were entirely convinced he was never going to love you back.

“I—” you started, trying to find your voice, but a heavy, broken sob ripped through your chest instead.

Thor's face immediately fell into an expression of deep, agonizing concern. His blue eyes searched your face frantically as he wrapped his massive arms around you, pulling you securely against his broad chest.

“Please do not cry, honey,” he murmured, his deep baritone cracking in pain.

He called you honey. He called you honey in private, in the quiet safety of your shared room, while holding you as if you were made of glass. It was so sweet, so tender, so full of an unprompted meaning. What on earth had happened to the two of you? Just hours ago, you were bitterly bickering about your morning coffee, but now you were collapsed in his arms, crying simply because he wanted to protect you.

Nobody did that for you. Nobody had ever said they would protect you, because they always expected you to handle it yourself. They knew what you were capable of; they knew you were lethal.

Nobody ever thought you would need someone else to do your bidding for you.

His large hand moved to the back of your head, his thick fingers gently stroking through your hair as he spoke, his voice dropping into a raspy whisper. “Darling, are you crying because of me?” He swallowed hard, his voice cracking again. “Do you truly think I mean to harm you? Do you think so little of me?”

You sobbed, your fingers clutching desperately onto the fabric of his shirt, burying your face into his chest.

“I’m begging you, do not cry,” he gulped, his own chest heaving as he held you tighter. “It... it hurts me.”

“I had been nothing but a laboratory experiment to them,” you finally choked out, the confession tearing out of your throat.

Thor froze instantly, his entire muscular body stiffening beneath your touch.

Slowly, you tilted your head up, your chin resting against his chest. Your lashes were damp with heavy tears that still kept falling silently down your cheeks. Thor’s hand gently cupped your face, his thumb catching the moisture, his eyes entirely locked onto yours as he listened with a quiet focus.

“They didn’t see a young woman,” you whispered, your throat tightening painfully as your grip on his shirt tightened. “They only saw a lab rat. A nameless object to be broken, tested, and rebuilt. I remember the cold steel of the table. I remember begging and begging... crying until my eyes bled, but they just kept on going.”

Thor’s blue eyes darkened into a midnight so black it looked like a brewing storm. A terrifying rage formed deep within him—a rage so massive and destructive that he felt he could destroy all of humanity just to see the lingering pain disappear from your eyes.

“Who are they?” He demanded, and your eyes closed in despair.

Should you tell him? Should you let him be a part of the darkest corners of your past?

Should you trust him?

“Darling, please tell me,” he begged, his voice trembling with a restrained fury as he looked down at you. “Who did this to you?”

Your throat tightened, your pulse fluttering at his gentle words and protective tone. You sighed opening your eyes, “They were a faction I later discovered to be the vile, lingering remnants of Hydra.”

Thor saw pure red. His throat tightened to the point of suffocation at the horrific image of you at the mercy of those monsters—being tortured, crying, entirely helpless.

“I need names,” he growled softly, the air in the room turning heavy with static.

“I don’t have names—”

“I will find names.”

“I don't know if you can, Thor, it was years—”

“I will,” he cut you off, his tone leaving absolutely no room for argument. He brought his other hand to your cheek, tilting your face up just a fraction. “Keep going, honey.” His voice was incredibly gentle for you, even as the undercurrent of his rage thrummed through his veins. He could barely bear to listen to the atrocities you had survived, but he had to. You were finally opening up to him, and he would listen to you until the end of time.

You gulped, trying to steady your breathing. “At the time, they were desperate, trying to replicate the lost Super Soldier serum using volatile cosmic energy signatures they barely understood.” You let out another shaky sob, and Thor immediately rubbed your back in slow, soothing circles, offering you every ounce of comfort his massive frame could provide. “More needles inserted into my skin... more radiation pumped into my veins, all for the sake of a twisted immortality.”

You held him tighter, closing your eyes against the memories. “And once they realized what they had created, they turned me into a ghost. An assassin. They forced me—forced me to do horrific, bloody things, Thor. I hurt so many people.” You opened your eyes, looking up at him with an unbearable vulnerability. “I did horrible, horrible things.”

The tears came faster now, the weight of your past crushing you as you sobbed uncontrollably against him. “I never wanted to do any of those things... they made me, I swear they made me, and they hurt me to make me do it—”

“Shh, sweetheart,” Thor interrupted softly, his voice thick with emotion as he clutched you even tighter against his heart, burying his face into your hair, his nose nudging your scalp as he did so. “None of this is your fault. Look at me.” He pulled back just enough to cup your face with both of his massive hands, gently forcing you to look up into his striking blue eyes. “None of it is your fault.”

“I am the one who did all of it—” Your voice cut off as another wave of tears streamed down your cheeks. It was like a dam had permanently broken in your chest, and there was absolutely no stopping it now. You were crying for the stolen years, crying for the innocent lives your hands had been forced to take, crying because you felt completely stripped bare and vulnerable—but most of all, you were crying because you loved him.

“I told you it is not your fault, sweetheart,” he said, his tone turning fiercely stern, leaving no room for you to argue with him. “You were kidnapped. Tortured.” He gulped like it was a great pain to say these words, “Your whole life was altered by monsters. You were made to do all of it.” His own voice grew heavy with sadness as he looked at your tears. “You did nothing wrong. You were just trying to survive, honey.”

“I’m so glad Steve and Tony saved me,” you whispered, your throat burning. “I... I don’t know what I’d do if it wasn't for them.”

At the mention of their names, Thor felt his chest tighten with a sharp, unexpected pang. Who else on the team knew the full extent of this? Steve and Tony, definitely. Natasha? You two were close; you would have told her. Bucky? Bruce? Clint? Was he truly the only person who had been left completely in the dark?

And to think he had called you gloomy.

A heavy cloak of regret settled over his shoulders. It was all true—everything he had confessed to Alejandro and Valentin at the table. He had thought you were the most breathtakingly beautiful woman he had ever seen the moment you walked into the compound years ago. But he had fucked it all up by opening his mouth and saying you looked gloomy. Would the two of you be any different right now if he hadn't used that stupid word?

“I am sorry,” he mumbled, the unexpected words catching your attention through the haze of your crying. He looked down at you, his eyes pained. “So fucking sorry I called you gloomy. Truly sorry. Can you—” He gulped hard, his chest heaving. “Can you forgive me?”

“I...” You trailed off, staring up at him in utter disbelief. Where the hell was this coming from? The walls around your heart instantly tried to slam back up. “Do you pity me now? Is that it?” you asked, your tone shifting into something sharp and defensive.

Thor’s eyes widened in immediate panic. “No—not pity. Towards you at least, never. I pity myself.”

“What does that even mean—”

“I meant every single word I said back there at the table,” he said softly, his thumbs tenderly grazing your cheeks to wipe away the fresh tears.

Your heart gave a violent flutter against your ribs, but it felt entirely too good to be true. You couldn't let yourself fall for a beautiful lie. “Do not mock me, Thor—”

“I would never.”

Your eyebrows went straight up, your expression clearly stating the obvious. He loved mocking you. He made it his absolute daily mission to get under your skin and irritate you to death.

Thor scrunched his face up at your look, a soft, self-deprecating sigh escaping his lips. “On this matter, I mean. I would never, ever mock you on a matter such as this, Little Flame.”

You scoffed, quickly averting your eyes from the intensity of his gaze. “Now you're just being cruel, big guy—“you tried to pry yourself off him, but one of his hands holding your face descended to your waist and circled it tightly.

“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met in my thousands of years alive.”

Your eyes widened with shock as they snapped back to meet his. Your heart dropped straight to your stomach with a violent jolt of excitement—of pure happiness.

“I am?” you whispered, the words coming out small and fragile, like a secret you were almost too afraid to speak aloud. It felt entirely unbelievable.

“You are,” he said, nodding firmly as he looked down at you.

There was something profoundly pure swirling in his deep blue eyes. It was a look you dared not name, because if you did, the only thing you could possibly call it would be adoration. He looked at you as if he completely and utterly adored you.

As you stared up at him, it hit you: that look was familiar.

He had always looked at you this way. Back at the compound, during your worst arguments, across the briefing table—his pupils would blow wide, a hidden mirth would dance behind his eyes, mixed with this exact same heavy, unyielding intensity. All these years, you had defensively rewritten that look as dislike, as a god looking down on an annoying mortal. Has he always looked at you with adoration in his eyes? Or were you just desperately lying to yourself now because your own walls were crumbling?

Either way, your breath was completely knocked out of you. Panic, cold and sharp, flooded your veins. You had to get away from him. You had to protect your heart, your soul, whatever was left of your sanity. You had already bared your darkest, most painful secret to him—the one thing you had specifically kept hidden from him out of fear—and you were terrified of what else you might reveal the longer you spent wrapped up in his arms.

“I—“You panicked even more as his gaze softened with that heartbreakingly tender look. You planted your palms against his chest and pushed. “I think it would be better if you let go of me now.” Thor’s expression changed, the vulnerability vanished, his eyes darkening to a stormy, dangerous hue. He had just laid his soul bare, admitting he found you more beautiful than anything in the cosmos, and now you were demanding he let you go?

“No,” he rumbled, his grip on your waist tightening rather than loosening. “Why would I do that?”

“Because I want you to—I need you to—“

“Why would you need me to do that?” he demanded, his voice dropping dangerously. “Are you that disgusted by me?”

Before you could even process the question, his expression shifted again. The anger twisted into something entirely unhinged as the green-eyed monster clawed ruthlessly at his insides, blinding him with an irrational fury.

“So you will gladly get close to that bastard at the bar, let his filthy hands touch your skin, but you cannot bear to have me hold you?”

Your mouth parted as you looked at him with pure, unyielding disbelief. “What on earth are you on about? Why do you keep talking about him like I'm actually into him—“

“Are you?” he fiercely cut you off.

He leaned down further, his eyes agressively scanning every inch of your face, his hot breath fanning across your lips. It made your breath hitch painfully in your throat. His completely irrational, wild behavior was forcing you to consider a reality you shouldn't. Something you would have never dared to think of just moments ago. Was he jealous?

Was he actually fucking jealous?

A dangerous spark of defiance flared up inside your chest. “What if I am?” you pushed, tilting your chin up to challenge him. “You cannot be,” he said, a flash of pure, territorial anger burning hot behind his eyes. “I will not let you. You are—you—“ He stammered, his usual booming eloquence completely deserting him as his gaze furiously swept over your face, desperately trying to decipher if you actually harbored any feelings for that fucker.

You smiled daringly up at him. You knew you probably looked absolutely wicked right now, with your smudged mascara, your flushed cheeks, and that fierce, determined look in your eyes.

“Are you jealous, big guy?” you whispered.

Your hands, which had been resting on his chest, began trailing upwards to his neck seductively. You didn't even have control over your own body anymore; it was like some primal instinct had taken over and you had to do this. You had to break him. You had to get him to confess. You felt entirely insane—just seconds ago, you were panicking and trying to push him away, and now you were mindlessly feeling him up, loving the power you had over him. Fuck.

Thor felt his heartbeat fasten against his ribs. His arm around your waist constricted, pulling you so close that there wasn't a single shred of air left between your bodies, his jaw locking hard in place. He knew exactly what you were doing. You were playing with fire on purpose. He made a ‘pfft’ sound, “I am not—“ he tried, desperately attempting to lie straight to your face.

“I think you are, honey,” you purred, leaning in until your breath fanned directly over his lips, your thumb lazily circling the heated skin at the nape of his neck. Even his neck was hot, for god's sake. It was thick and masculine. He was so masculine. His eyes immediately drifted down to your lips again, his resolve crumbling. “I am not. I simply... I wish to protect you because you are my teammate—“

“Oh, so I should just go back down to the bar and find him, then?” you pushed ruthlessly. You tilted your head, feigning complete innocence with your wide, tear-bright eyes.

He huffed, utterly furious at the mere suggestion. “Absolutely not. You are not leaving this damn room without me by your side.”

Your wicked smile widened. “Why not?” you purred, your face moving a fraction closer until your lips almost brushed his jaw. “I could touch him like this...” Your hands drifted down from his neck, sliding over the heavy planes of his chest down to his massive biceps, making his muscles instantly twitch under your fingertips. “I could kiss him like I did you, just minutes ago—“

Thor couldn't take it a single second longer.

His lips slanted over yours, ruthlessly cutting your sentence and your breath off. He pulled you even closer toward him, holding you like you were his absolute lifeline, pressing you so tight against his broad, muscular frame that it felt like your bodies were becoming one. You kissed him back passionately, completely losing yourself in the intoxicating heat of it. Your hands flew up to find his rough cheeks, and you pushed yourself up on your tiptoes, pressing your lips hungrily onto his.

He bit your lower lip with a sudden, needy sharpness, then stopped. He reluctantly moved his head away just a few inches, his breathing heavy and ragged as he whispered against your mouth, “You are not to kiss anyone but me.” His thumb came up, grazing over your throbbing lower lip. “Stop it, alright?” he whispered, then pecked your lips.

“Why—“

He pecked your lips again, roughly cutting you off, and then growled the confession right into your mouth: “Because I am fucking jealous, okay honey?”

He kissed you again, and you actually smirked straight into the kiss. The absolute victory of making a literal god admit defeat made your heart soar into the stratosphere. You pulled back though your lips were still grazing his, whispering wickedly against his mouth, “What was that?”

He pecked your lips again, desperate, heavy, and completely surrendered to you. “I have been burning with jealousy since I saw him lay his filthy eyes on you. I do not know what is wrong with me, but I—” He gulped hard, his large thumb slowly gliding over your flushed cheek. “I am consumed by it.”

A breathless, giddy giggle escaped your lips then. “Okay, big guy.”

He was jealous. The King of Asgard was completely, undeniably jealous, and he had just admitted it to you in the dark of your room. Oh god, you were losing your mind—and you never wanted to find it again.

But one question prodded at your mind before he made it all disappear with a fierce kiss, why was he jealous in the first place?

But you were not in your right mind. Because Thor wasn’t kissing you like a normal kiss. He was inhaling you, and it was already lighting you on fire.

The height difference was clearly bothering him as much as it was bothering you. Feeling the strain, Thor lowered himself just a bit before sliding his hands under your thighs, effortlessly lifting you completely off the floor, making your dress ride up. Your arms immediately circled around his thick neck—the very same neck you had been dying to strangle just hours ago—and you let out a soft moan directly into his mouth as his hands slipped up from your thighs to find your ass, squeezing your cheeks tightly as he pinned you securely against his massive frame. You moaned into his mouth, not being able to help it.

A hand left your ass and wrapped around your neck, while the other moved back to your waist to securely hold you, angling your face to kiss you as deeply as he wanted. His tongue pressed over yours as he walked himself backward into the bedroom. The kiss was heated, so full of passion you felt your insides burn with it. His kisses descended to your jaw, then to your neck as he hummed in deep appreciation. What were you doing kissing Thor, of all people? What were you doing letting Thor take you to bed, of all people?

But the thought couldn't even fully form as he bit down on your neck, making you whine in pain.

“Thor—” you begged, without knowing what it was you were begging for.

— “Yes?” he rumbled against your skin as he licked the sensitive spot on your neck, then he laid you over the mattress, settling his heavy body over you. He massaged your hips as he settled himself deeply between your legs. You spread them wide to accommodate him, and felt it poking hard against your thigh.

His cock, thick and hard, was somehow bigger than you had imagined—and you hadn’t been thinking small.

“Guess we don't have to fight over who gets the bed anymore,” you quipped, your voice breathless, trying to find a defense in your usual wit.

It made him chuckle, a low vibration against your chest. “I guess not,” he whispered, then took your lips again. This kiss was softer than before, slowly dismantling you as his lips glided over yours. Then he pressed his hips heavily against your core, making you whine out loud.

“Do you feel that?” He pulled your upper lip between his teeth, smiling slightly into the heat of your face. “It’s what you do to me. Ever since we landed here, I’ve be walking around so hard I was worried you’d see it. But no.” He kissed one corner of your mouth, then the other. “You’re oblivious, aren’t you, honey?”

He found you that attractive?

You hummed, tipping your head back in complete surrender. Thor groaned, dragging his lips over a throbbing pulse point, letting his tongue flick against the sensitive skin of your throat. “You like that too,” he grunted, his breath hot in your ear. “You like being the one person that gets me going, that makes me lose it. No one else, my Little Flame.”

He held your hips again and pushed your ass forward, locking you in place so your clit was pushed tightly against the thick hardness of him through the fabric. A long moan escaped your lips, and you dropped your face into his shoulder, completely undone.

Thor grunted, rutting forward, and it was so fucking hot you couldn't think past it. The deep drawl of his voice in your ear, the impossible strength of him around you—it was intoxicating. The clothing added a desperate, heavy extra friction, his fingers digging into your hips.

“Just you,” he thrusted forward against your core, squeezing your ass tightly with his other hand. “Only you, sweetheart. So beautiful and sassy, driving me insane—“

You whimpered as Thor made a low, ragged sound, taking a deep, shaky breath against your hair. His hand then slipped into your panties, his deft fingers dragging down to tease right against the already damp drip of your pussy. His fingers started circling your clit, a thick dampness forming immediately down there under his torturously perfect touch. “Please—” you cried out, your hips bucking up instinctively against his hand, begging for him to end this perfect torture.

“Please what, honey?i Thor rasped, his touch growing heavier, more demanding as he felt your walls slick and trembling for him. “Tell me exactly what you want me to do to you”

“I want you,” you gasped out as he inserted his middle finger inside you—and fuck, even his finger was incredibly large.

“Not enough, sweetheart,” he grumbled, pressing his thumb firmly down onto your clit, making you squirm and twitch helplessly in place beneath his weight.

“What do I have to say—“

“I said tell me exactly what you want, did I not?” he rumbled, suddenly moving his finger deep inside you, rhythmically fucking you with it. You whined loudly at the overwhelming friction, your hands locking onto his massive biceps and squeezing hard enough to leave marks. “I want you to—“ you gasped, your vision blurring. “I want you to fuck me... no, I need you to fuck me. Please.”

You were completely reduced to begging him. In response, his fingers slicked deeper as he added his ring finger into your heat, stretching you beautifully, but then he stopped abruptly.

There was simply too much extra fabric from your midi dress crumpled up in his way.

Your eyebrows furrowed, the sudden loss of momentum leaving you aching and confused. “What is it?”

He didn't respond with words. Instead, his large hands slid down to your lower back, his knuckles brushing your bare skin as his fingers found the zipper of your dress.

Your blood ran completely cold in an instant. Your whole body stiffened up beneath him, every single muscle locking tight.

Your scars.

Other people, other agents, had seen them on the battlefield or during training, and you had never felt bad about it. But this was Thor. You knew he had caught a fleeting glimpse of them at the pool earlier, but he hadn't truly seen all of them. He hadn't seen the worst of them. And this was not a public pool, was it? This was intimate. This was completely private. Which meant he would have all the time in the world to analyze them with his eyes, more time to realize how broken your body really was, more time to get disgusted by them—

The heavy weight of his hand cupped your jaw, covering it completely and instantly grounding you, cutting your spiraling thoughts short. “What is it?” he asked softly, his blue eyes searching yours in the dim light. “What's wrong, Little Flame?”

You gulped hard, helplessly averting your eyes from his intense stare. “I—I don't know about this...”

“Do you want to stop?” he asked immediately, completely freezing, his hand instantly lifting away from the zipper of your dress without hesitation.

“No!” you scrambled out desperately. Your eyes snapped back to find his, and you saw deep confusion in them.

How could he not be confused? You probably looked completely insane to him right now. First you were kissing him like there was no tomorrow, then you were begging him to take you, then you were voicing a doubt, but you were still fiercely refusing to stop. You were goddamn confusing.

You closed your eyes, a wave of shame washing over you. “It's just that I...” You swallowed hard. “I don't think I should remove my dress.”

His eyebrows furrowed deeply. “But I want to feel you. I do not understand,” he said, getting more perplexed by the second.

You huffed, unable to meet his eyes. “My scars... they are not pleasant to look at, Thor.”

“You do not know what is pleasant to my eyes or not,” he countered instantly, his deep voice carrying an unyielding certainty that took you completely aback.

“But—“

“I find you attractive. I find your scars attractive. I find every single part of you breathtakingly attractive,” he said, his tone dropping into a fierce vow as his hand found the track of your zipper once again. He didn't pull it, he just waited, asking for your trust. “Please let me see you, darling,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over yours, his warm breath intoxicating. “So that I can witness your beauty. So that I can show you exactly how much I love your scars, how much I love every part of you.”

Your eyes were wide, your heart beating so fast and hard against your ribs it felt painful. Should you actually let him?

This was Thor, for god's sake. He was never the nicest person to you—

But was he not?

A sudden rush of memories flooded your brain, completely reframing the last few years. He always looked out for you on dangerous missions, shielding your blind spots. Even though he irritated you daily, he always helped you carry heavy equipment crates—though not before he smugly made you cave in and admit you couldn't do it yourself, just like he did with your suitcases. He had caught you by the waist every single time you tripped. His eyes had always, always been tracked onto you in every room. And tonight, he had called you the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his thousands of years of life, before literally threatening to crush a man's skull for disrespecting you.

So no. He had never been rude to you. He had always been good to you. He annoyed you, sure, but he was so goddamn protective and sweet to you in his own annoying and loud way, and you had somehow just noticed it. How the hell did you just notice it?

Your chest was heaving heavily as you made your final decision, the remaining walls around your heart completely collapsing.

“Okay,” you whispered, nodding your head against the pillow.

Thor smiled then—a soft, blindingly beautiful smile that made him look younger, happier. His lips easily found yours again in a deep, reassuring kiss as his hand slowly, smoothly slid the zipper all the way down, gently removing the white dress from your body and leaving nothing between you but the heat of his skin.

You were now left in your white bra and panties, his gaze burning your skin as he looked all over you. His heart soared at the sight of you, but he felt a sharp pang of pain in his chest at the scars littering your skin. They were a lot more than he thought, but gods, they only made you more attractive to him. A strong woman, with the face of an angel and the body of a goddess—you were always meant to be his undoing.

His fingers grazed a thin line along your ribs as his mind echoed fiercely, She is beautiful, and I am going to make them pay for hurting her, all of them.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you squirmed, a faint trace of your old discomfort resurfacing. Instead of drawing back, he leaned over your body, his face level with your stomach as his large hands gently grabbed your sides, anchoring you. And then, he lowered his head and kissed one of the most visible, ragged scars you had near your hip.

“You are beautiful. Truly a goddess... one fit for me,” he muttered against your skin, before kissing the mark again.

Your breath hitched, your head spinning into a daze. That specific scar was from the most lethal trauma you had ever endured. You had almost died that day; in fact, you had hoped to die that day just to escape. But your captives had found a way to keep you alive, using brutal, advanced procedures to permanently bind your altered biology together. Tears welled up in your eyes, your vision blurring for the second time that night. To see him kiss it like that—so tenderly, with so much reverence—made something warm and heavy fill your chest. It was like a fractured part of you was finally feeling whole again.

I love him, your mind screamed at you for the second time that day. Your right hand instinctively found his rough cheek, your fingers tangling in his beard as he kept kissing your scars. One left from needles being inserted into the exact same place dozens of times; one left from a failed escape attempt on a mission they sent you on, a punishment for not obeying... He was kissing every single one of them.

And while his lips hovered over the worst one near your hip again, you finally whispered, “I almost died when I got that one.”

His head immediately whipped up, his heart tightening painfully in his chest at your words. “What?” he asked, his throat closing in, his blue eyes blazing with an intense, dark focus.

“They used a plasma blade to slice me open during a combat stress-test,” you whispered, the memory making your voice shake. “They wanted to see how fast the cosmic energy in my blood would knit the flesh back together while I was conscious. I begged them to just let me bleed out.”

Thor’s hold on your sides violently tightened, his knuckles turning white and his jaw locking so hard a muscle strove in his cheek. “I am going to make them pay, Little Flame." he said his voice determined, "I am going to avenge you. They are going to feel the wrath of the God of Thunder, be sure of that. No one, and I mean no one, gets away with hurting you.”

He turned his head toward the hand holding his cheek, shifting slightly to press a deep, lingering kiss against the inside of your wrist, right over your pulsing vein, like he wanted to be sure you were alive. Like he needed reassurance of your well being after your confession. He could not bear the thought of you in pain, but death? You on the brink of death? His poor heart could not take it. “I do not know what you did to me, sweetheart, but you—” he gulped, his eyes locked on yours, “you have a hold on me that no one else ever did. That no one else ever could.”

He leaned up, his chest heaving against yours. “I cannot help it. I cannot help but be jealous, I cannot help but be protective, possessive... I just can't help it. You have completely bewitched me.”

Your breathing fastened as your heart fluttered wildly in your chest at his words. What did he mean? How was he talking like this? He couldn't love you, you knew that—you were just deeply flawed partners on a mission—but a part of your soul soared at the fact that he harbored these intense, desperate urges for you. Even if it wasn't love, he felt for you with a terrifying depth.

When his large hands moved down to remove your white bra, you reached up and caught his wrists, tsking him with a breathless smirk. “Don't you think you're being a bit unfair, big guy? It's your turn.”

Your hands found his collar, pulling his heavy frame down to your lips. You kissed him deeply, pouring all your hidden, aching feelings into it, while your shaky fingers began working on the unbuttoning of his shirt. Your hands were trembling with excitement and the weight of your feelings for him. When you finally removed your lips from his, you let out a frustrated huff, looking down at the fabric because your frantic fingers couldn't unbutton them fast enough.

Thor just chuckled, a rumbling sound against your chest. He took matters into his own hands, gripping the shirt and casually pulling it over his head with one smooth motion, tossing it blindly across the room.

“Oh fuck... you honestly are a god,” you whispered, taking him in fully. His biceps were literally the size of your head, his pecs perfectly sculpted, his abs defined and casting shadows in the dim light—he was going to be the absolute death of you.

He chuckled again, clearly enjoying your completely awestruck expression, and immediately took it to his advantage. His large hand slid behind your back, and with a single, practiced flick of his fingers, he unclasped your bra in a second.

You gasped in bewilderment, snapping your eyes up to meet his. “You sly fox,” you said, a wicked smirk returning to your lips.

He just held your bra up for a brief second like a captured banner of war, a triumphant smile lighting up his handsome face, before he tossed it away. Turning all of his massive, heavy attention back to you, his mouth immediately latched onto your right breast, his tongue swirling hot against your skin while his large hand slid down past your stomach to find your crotch.

“Ohmygod,” you gasped out in one breath.

His fingers hooked into the edge of your panties, sliding them down your hips before giving a firm, playful slap against your inner thigh. “Get your legs up for me, honey, so I can get these off,” he grunted against your skin. You quickly complied, lifting your hips and helping him slide the remaining lace down your legs until you were completely bared for him.

He let go of your nipple for a second, his large hands sliding down to grip your thighs with an iron hold, settling himself deeply between them again. He spread them wide open, his gaze dropping down to your glistening center. His tongue darted out in anticipation, his eyes dark with an intense, heavy hunger.

“You look so sweet, honey. Bet you taste as sweet as you look, don't you?” he murmured to himself, his deep baritone sending a thrill straight down your spine as he kept his gaze locked between your legs.

You whined in agonizing anticipation, your hips twitching on the mattress. “Do something—oh!”

You were cut off as his thumb pressed hard against your clit, slowly dragging all the way down your slick slit, catching your juices on his skin. He lifted his hand, looking down at his wet thumb before putting it directly between his lips, sucking the moisture off as he closed his eyes.

“Oh, yes you do taste sweet. Better than I ever imagined,” he rumbled, his voice rough. He leaned down and gave your pussy a light, playful slap, the stinging heat making you whine out loud.

“Thooor—”

He hovered back over your body, his mouth immediately returning to suckle hungrily on your right nipple. At the same time, his hand slid back between your thighs, inserting his middle finger deep inside you, quickly followed by his ring finger. His thumb began circling your clit in rhythmic patterns. Your mouth fell agape, your head tossing from side to side as you moaned and moaned, your body beautifully stretched by his incredibly large fingers.

Your hands locked onto his broad shoulders, squeezing tight, the slick friction of his touch rapidly driving you toward the edge, pulling you closer to that blissful, impending high.

“'M close,” you murmured, your eyes completely dazed. You pulled his head closer, biting down on the thick skin of his neck and suckling fiercely, making the god let out a deep, gravelly groan of pleasure.

“You’re driving me insane,” he growled against your skin, his fingers moving faster, driving deep inside your tight heat. “Come on, pretty girl, make a mess on my fingers.”

The pressure kept building and building in your lower stomach until it was entirely unbearable. “I—” you gasped, your toes curling into the sheets. “I’m gonna—”

“Come on, let it go, baby,” he commanded darkly.

And then you snapped. You came hard, whining and moaning loudly as wave after wave of intense pleasure rippled through your core, your walls clamping down violently around his fingers. Thor grunted, keeping his fingers moving through your contractions, forcing every last drop of pleasure out of you until you were breathlessly begging him to stop.

Before you could even catch your breath, Thor shifted. He reached down to his waist, lowering his trousers and boxers in a single, aggressive movement. Because he was already on his knees, the fabric simply bunched up around his knees, freeing his lower half.

Your eyes widened in absolute awe at the sight. He was big. Just as you had thought, but seeing him fully bare made him look even bigger. “Oh god,” you whispered.

Thor gave his length a slow, heavy pump of his hand, precum glistening at the tip as he smeared the moisture down his thick shaft. He looked down at you, his chest heaving.

“Do we need protection? Because I don't have any—” he asked, his voice thick with restraint. “No, we don't,” you said eagerly, you were on the pill.

Pushing yourself up onto your elbows, you looked his naked torso and heavy length over with a predatory hunger. “You’re so fucking handsome it’s annoying, do you know that?” you said, biting your lower lip.

He chuckled, a smug, low sound as he settled his weight back in between your open legs. “Why, thank you, Little Flame—”

Your hand shot out, planting firmly against his massive shoulder. “Can I ride you?” Thor stopped dead in his tracks, his chest heaving, his pupils blown wide. “What?”

“Can I ride you?” you asked again, your voice completely determined.

Taking full advantage of his momentary shock, you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist, using your core to pull him down as you deftly flipped your positions. Within a second, you were sitting squarely on top of his hard stomach. His defined abs twitched beneath you, the movement grazing directly against your freshly sensitive clit, making you take a sharp breath.

“You wanna do all the work, honey?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowing as a lazy, amused smirk tugged at his lips.

“Mhm,” you hummed, your eyes dazed and hooded as you looked down at his towering chest. He chuckled, his large hands rising to rest loosely on your hips. “Are you sure? You are well aware I possess the stamina of a god.”

You rolled your eyes at his typical Asgardian arrogance. “I am aware. Can you just stop talking and—”

“Are you getting on, or not?” he interrupted, his smirk widening as he tilted his hips up just a fraction, the warm tip of his cock brushing against your entrance.

For a split second, the temptation to be difficult returned. “I am definitely reconsidering it now,” you pouted, crossing your arms over your bare chest and throwing him a defiant look.

But Thor just snorted, rolling his eyes at your stubbornness. Before you could even blink, his hands gripped your hips with terrifying strength and he lifted you up. You didn't even get a second to think before he downwardly forced your hips straight onto his thick dick, burying himself inside you all the way to the hilt.

The air was knocked completely from your lungs. Thor was so deep in you it was pushing all the thoughts out of your brain. You gaped down at him, making weak, breathless noises as your pussy pulsed and stretched beautifully around his thickness. His fingers dug deeply into your hips, the only sign that he was struggling to hold himself back from taking over completely.

“Much as I enjoy you trying to take control,” he muttered, his large hands sliding down to massage your ass with a heavy, grounding pressure, “I'd rather keep you full of me so you stop thinking.”

He reached up slowly, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You bit your bottom lip, whining at the unbearable fullness, and he chuckled, settling his upper body fully into the pillows. Your hands found his chest, your fingers grabbing firmly onto his broad pectorals for balance. “Ride it, baby,” he ordered, his voice a low, gravelly command.

And god help you, you tried. You caught your breath after a long moment that felt like an eternity and started to roll your hips. Thor groaned, his heavy eyelids fluttering as your tight heat dragged over his length, but he deliberately didn't help you yet. His hands remained firm on your body, forcing you to use every ounce of your strength to grind down onto his dick.

Your movements accidentally pushed him right against that sensitive, gooey spot inside of you, and you faltered with a long, broken moan. You shifted, forcing his thick head right against it again, and he let out a sharp breath, though he still didn't take the reins. “Uhh—” you whined, your head spinning.

“Feels good, does it not?” he cooed, his cock throbbing heavily inside you. “Nice and big, filling up your pussy so good.”

You moaned, your hips bucking instinctively. Thor grunted, thrusting up just slightly to meet you, and you tipped your head back as a shiver ran down your spine. The friction was incredible. For a second, back arched and thighs aching, you actually managed to find a rhythm. It started slow, rolling and pushing Thor’s cock right where you wanted it.

You looked down at him, sweaty and utterly adoring beneath you. His hands wandered over your skin, his breathing ragged and his lips parted as he watched you take him.

“That's a good girl,” he muttered, his blue eyes blown wide. “There you go, My Star.” He continued, “My beautiful fucking Star, so good for me are you not?”

You keened at the praise, your pace moving faster. Your knees were growing weak from the exertion, but the desperate need inside you was so much stronger. You bounced on Thor’s dick, grabbing at his chest and gasping for air as his sheer size split you open over and over again.

Looking down at his bare chest, his defined pecs looked absolutely delicious in the dim light. You had to take a bite, didn't you? Lowering your upper body flat against his chest, you leaned down and bit down on his left breast, hard. Thor groaned loudly, his abs flexing hard beneath you. “What are you—” he gasped.

You didn't answer, simply licking over the damp mark you had just left before kissing over it mindlessly. Pushing yourself back up, your hands found their place on his heaving chest again, meeting his eyes which were burning with an unhinged desire.

But it wasn't enough. You didn't possess the extra stamina or strength of a god, and he was just too big. You were so overwhelmed by pleasure that your body was starting to forget how to move properly. Every wet, obscene sound echoing in the room made you glance down at where he was disappearing inside of you—the way your slick was heavily coating his cock when you pulled up, and the heavy weight of his balls slapping against your ass every time you dropped back down.

You only got hornier, wanting nothing more than to just let go and allow your eyes to cross and toes to curl, but you couldn't find the pace to get over the edge. You couldn't cum. The frustration built up until pathetic, fat tears started streaming down your cheeks.

”Aw, baby, why are you crying?” Thor murmured, his voice laced with a gentle mockery. Fully aware of the fact that you couldn't reach the finish line by yourself, he reached up, brushing your tears away with his thumb while a tiny, knowing smirk played on his lips.

You let out a frustrated sob, shaking violently above him as your legs finally grew too weak to sustain the weight. You collapsed forward, just squirming uselessly against his lap now, blinking through wet lashes at his teasing, lazy smile. “You can't get there all alone, can you?” he purred, gripping your waist tightly and slamming his hips up into you.

You made a choked, high-pitched sound as the sudden force rattled your entire frame. “That's right, pretty girl. Just a total mess on my cock."

“Ple—please—“ you blubbered, completely spent, your upper body collapsing weakly over Thor’s broad chest. “God, Thor—please—“

“Aw. Begging so pretty.” He leaned up and pressed a tender, lingering kiss to your wet forehead. “How could I ever say no to you, huh?”

Without another word, Thor gripped your hips and effortlessly lifted you off his cock, twisting you onto your back as he sat up. You were shoved down into the mattress, your head pressed deeply into the cushions. His massive hands locked onto your hips, dragging you down the bed toward him, completely manhandling you. His right hand moved to the inside of your left thigh, pushing it wide open to expose your dripping core to the cool air of the room.

“Such a mess,” Thor rumbled, his eyes dark as he ran the thick head of his cock between the lips of your pussy, letting it press heavily against your swollen clit before lining it right back up at your entrance.

He slid in slowly, filling you back up until your eyes rolled back in your head. Bringing his upper body over yours, his left hand found your right leg, pushing it all the way up to your chest. He was impossibly deeper at this angle, stretching you to your absolute limits.

You tried to press your hand over your mouth to muffle your pathetic, undone sounds, but Thor tutted softly. With his left hand, he firmly wrapped his fingers around your wrist and pulled your hand away, pinning it to the mattress. He bottomed out completely, a deep groan ripping from his chest as he bit your earlobe.

His hand found its way to your thigh and kept your legs pinned high next to your breasts as he began to move, his brutal, unyielding pace making you instantly see stars. Every heavy thrust sent a shockwave through your body, your hips bouncing uncontrollably against the mattress.

Thor moved his head back just a little, looking down at where your bodies joined, and grunted in deep, possessive approval. He caught your jaw in his hand, his fingers anchoring you as he fucked you hard. “Want to see how good we fit, pretty girl?”

You couldn't even catch a goddamn breath, but you nodded frantically. He let go of your jaw, sliding his hand to the back of your head and gently forcing you to look down at your own lap.

It was sinful. So fucking sinful. A white, creamy ring was forming around his shaft as he ruthlessly fucked into you, and he was so goddamn right—you fit together like perfect puzzle pieces. With every single downward stroke, his heavy pelvis hit directly against your engorged, sensitive clit.

You moaned loudly, your eyebrows knitting together in pure pleasure as the visual pushed you right over the edge unexpectedly. You screamed his name as he let go of your head, his thumb brushing over your trembling lips. He didn't stop, keeping up the relentless, pounding pace, grunting your name over and over against your neck.

“Came after just a few seconds of me fucking you?” he mocked breathlessly, but he was in no better shape than you were. He looked completely disheveled, his hair wild, his jaw locked in a tight line of restraint.

He pushed his damp thumb directly into your mouth, and you blindly suckled on it, wrapping your tongue around his skin.

“Fuck,” he grunted, his blue eyes blowing wide as he finally lost his grip on his godly stamina. His hips gave one last, deep, trembling shove, pinning you flat to the bed as he came, throwing thick, hot ropes of cum deep inside you, filling you to the absolute brim. —

“Are you okay?” he whispered, his lips brushing tenderly against your knuckles.

You were having a near-impossible time keeping your eyes open, the aftershocks of the last hour leaving your limbs feeling like heavy lead, but you managed to nod lazily and offer him a soft, sleepy smile.

Thor took your hand, bringing it up to rest against his bare chest. You frowned, your brow furrowing in confusion. “What’re you doin’?” you mumbled, your exhaustion making your words barely intelligible, slurring together into a sleepy hum.

“Have to take care of you, baby,” he said, his voice so gentle it made your heart ache. He didn't wait for an answer, simply scooping you up into his arms, bridal style. Your arms instinctively circled around his thick neck, and you rested your heavy head against his shoulder as he carried you into the bathroom.

After he helped you clean up with a patience that was entirely uncharacteristic of the man you’d known for years, he carried you back to the bed. He kissed your forehead with lingering reverence as he laid you down, then slid under the covers next to you, pulling you into his embrace until your head was pillowed firmly against his chest.

His heart was beating like a war drum against your ear, his large fingers trembling slightly as he pulled the thin, cool sheets up to tuck you in. He stared at the ceiling, lost in the terrifying shift in his own reality.

Why was he feeling like this? What had happened to the cold, arrogant dynamic you two had shared for so long? The question burned in his mind, sharp and insistent: Did you feel the same?

Unable to hold the mounting anxiety back, he mumbled, “Do you hate me?”

The question came out before he could stop it, brittle and desperate. You stiffened slightly against him, your eyes fluttering open for a brief moment. “I never hated you.”

He hummed, a low vibration in his chest. “Hm.” He shifted, his hand moving to smooth a lock of hair away from your face. “Let me phrase it like this then... do you dislike me still?”

You smiled a little bit, your face scrunching up as you looked up at him hazily, your consciousness drifting further away. You were too exhausted to put up your usual defenses, and you told him half the truth.

“Not so much.”

You leaned forward and kissed his chest without thinking, the action small and intimate, before laying your head back down. His fastened heartbeat drummed in your ears, a frantic, steady rhythm that matched your own.

Thor felt his heart give out as he finally understood what he was feeling.

He was in love with you.

He had been for years, and he was absolutely, completely doomed.

—

You woke up, breathing in deeply as you opened your eyes and stretched your arms. Your eyes widened instantly as the vivid rush of last night’s endeavors hit you.

You slept with Thor.

You quickly looked next to you, your heart ready to leap with hopeful excitement, only to see a completely empty bed. Your heart dropped straight to your stomach. A cold, suffocating weight pressed down on your chest.

Where was he? Did he regret it that much? Did he wake up, realized what he had done with someone as broken as you, and left you all alone the first thing in the morning?

Your hands and feet went completely ice-cold. Your eyes tore up, your nose burning and your throat tightening painfully with incoming tears. Regret. It was the only word screaming in your mind.

You scrambled to your feet, desperately trying to swallow down the sob threatening to break out. Moving on pure autopilot, you quickly started getting ready for breakfast, needing a mask to hide behind. Your hands shook violently as you removed the mascara stains from your cheeks and quickly applied your sunscreen. You pulled on a black strapless summer dress with vibrant pink flowers—it hugged your torso tightly before flaring out beautifully from the waist down. You placed a long-brimmed black summer hat over your hair and slid into black kitten heels. Taking a shaky, shallow breath, you made your way down to the resort’s breakfast area.

The moment you stepped into the restaurant, your blood ran cold. You did not like what you were witnessing. At all.

Thor was there, standing by the open buffet, but he wasn’t alone. There she was—the receptionist girl who had been entirely too into your so-called husband since you arrived. Her hand was resting boldly on his right bicep while he looked down at her, his head turned toward her as he smiled lightly. She was actively flirting with him, and he wasn’t pulling back. Not even after everything he had whispered to you last night. What the hell was a receptionist doing there in the first place?

A dangerous rage built inside you, jealousy brewing hot and toxic, completely melting your insides. You couldn’t help it. Even if Thor didn't want you anymore, even if last night meant nothing to him, nobody was allowed to touch him like that as long as he was playing your husband.

You made your way toward them in fast, sharp strides, the click of your kitten heels masked by the ambient chatter. You stopped directly behind the girl, your index finger tapping her shoulder with an icy firmness.

She quickly turned around, a bright, rehearsed smile on her face, but that smile instantly died the second she registered who was standing there. She was much shorter than you; from beneath the brim of your hat, you were looking down at her with pure, unyielding disdain. A wicked, lethal smile played on your lips—a look that silently screamed, 'You are going to die in ten seconds, and not even the God of Thunder can save you from your demise.'

“My love, you’re awake!” Thor boomed, his face lit up with an instant, radiant brightness the very millisecond his eyes landed on you. You flicked your gaze to him, your chest tight. What a spectacular actor, you thought bitterly.

You looked straight back at the girl. Thor’s eyebrows quickly knitted together as he registered the tension radiating from your posture. “I was just on my way to bring you breakfast—”

“Were you now?” you cut him off, your voice dangerously low, though your eyes never left the receptionist. She was already squirming and trembling under your icy glare.

“I was just—” she stammered, backing up half a step. “You were just leaving,” you cut her off ruthlessly. Then, completely unable to hold yourself back through the blinding haze of your jealousy, you coldly added, “My husband does not have a taste for servants, you know?”

Thor’s eyes widened in sheer shock. You had done the exact one thing you had warned him not to do—you had ignored manners and called her a servant.

The girl nodded frantically, her eyes wide with fear, and immediately scrambled away from Thor, nearly tripping over her own feet to escape you.

The moment she was gone, you turned away from him without giving him a second look. “Baby—” Thor started, his hand reaching out.

“Do not baby me,” you snapped, turning your head back sharply, your eyes flashing with a profound, unyielding coldness that made him freeze.

Thor’s heart dropped straight to his stomach. The sudden, icy wall you had thrown up slapper him in the face so hard he felt your finger prints on his cheek. Did you regret it? Was that what this was? Did you wake up wishing last night had never happened?

“What is going on?” he asked, his voice losing its booming confidence, an edge of panic bleeding through.

You scoffed loudly, completely ignoring his question as you moved toward the stack of plates to grab your own food. You weren't going to stand there and look pathetic. Thor quickly followed on your heels, his massive frame completely blocking out the rest of the crowded restaurant as you aggressively snatched a ceramic plate from the stack. The weight of it felt solid in your shaking fingers—a grounding contrast to the chaos roaring inside your head. He didn't care that there were other guests around; his focus was entirely locked onto you.

“Talk to me, please,” he begged again, his deep voice dropping into a whispered, desperate pitch that only you could hear. “What did I do? Why are you looking at me like that?”

You moved down the line of the open buffet, your eyes fixed forward, your jaw locked tight under the long brim of your black summer hat. You didn't even see the food.

“I look at you exactly how I should look at a partner who fails to maintain the perimeter of our cover,” you whispered coldly, your tone clipped and professional—the ultimate shield to protect your bleeding heart. “We are supposed to be happily married, Thor. Yet I walk into the dining room and find you letting the resort staff treat your bicep like a resting post. It’s sloppy. It risks the mission.”

“The mission?” Thor repeated, and you heard the sharp, pained intake of his breath. He stepped in front of you, completely cutting off your path to the pastry section, forcing you to stop. When you tried to look past him, he leaned down into your line of sight, his blue eyes wide and panicked. “You think I care about the cover right now? Honey, look at me.”

The nickname was a mocking echo of the tenderness from last night. Your eyes snapped up to his, flashing with a dangerous, icy heat. “Do not call me that.”

He felt entirely hopeless, his blue eyes burning with a raw, suffocating pain the more you talked. “Last night—“

“Let's not bring up last night. Ever,” you said, sharply turning your head away from him. You were desperate to protect your heart, to pull the shields up before he could break you completely by saying how much he regretted it.

“What?” he asked, his voice entirely breathless. His lungs felt as though they were constricting in on themselves, a pain burning him from the inside out.

But you didn't answer., you just kept walking, your hands trembling so hard that the ceramic plate in your hands shaked in your grasp. You tried to swallow the thick lump of emotion stuck in your throat, but it wouldn't budge. You loved him, and he regretted you. That was the only reality your brain could process.

You had effectively carved his heart out of his chest and stepped on it with the sharp heel of your shoes, leaving his poor heart to bleed out on the cold floor while you kept thumping it with your foot over and over again. Thor’s head was thumping, his chest feeling completely hollow as he stood frozen, looking at your retreating back. To him, the message was loud and clear: you regretted everything you had given him, while he was deeply, hopelessly in love with you.

The rest of the breakfast passed by in a torturously. You didn't speak a single word to him, and he didn't dare speak to you, far too heartbroken to even think of where to begin mending the fracture. You both just sat there at the table in a heavy, complete silence. Thor spent the entire time staring down at his large, empty hands, while you kept your eyes rigidly fixed on your plate.

After breakfast, you returned to the villa to change for the pool, pulling on a black bikini and a sheer black beach dress. You kept the long-brimmed hat firmly on your head, using it as a barrier to keep yourself from looking at him, and to keep him from looking at you to see your pained expression.

Once down at the resort pool, you settled onto your sunbed for a second before immediately scrambling away to the water, needing to escape his suffocating proximity. Your body tensed up at the first splash, but slowly relaxed as your skin got used to the cold.

It's okay, your mind echoed in a desperate chant, trying to soothe your aching heart. You already got the codes. You can get this entire mission over with tonight, and then you won't ever have to sleep in the same room with him again.

From his sunbed, Thor was watching you like a hawk. He lay there with his massive arms crossed behind his head, his jaw locked so tight the muscles in his cheek flexed repeatedly. His hands were formed into rigid fists, the static electricity in his veins making the air around his chair turn faintly heavy.

Then, the tense silence was abruptly interrupted by a woman's voice coming from next to him. “Hello there, handsome.” She was sitting on a sunbed just one row away, looking to be in her late forties with short, styled blonde hair and a sly, predatory smirk on her face.

Thor didn't even turn his torso. He just spared a brief, icy sideway glance at her before immediately snapping his eyes back to the water, tracking your swimming. “Why are you all alone?” she purred, leaning forward to get his attention. “Your spouse left you to fend for yourself like mine did?” Thor finally turned his head fully away from the pool for a brief second. “I am completely fine. Thank you for your concerns, lady,” he grumbled clearly irritated, his baritone rough and entirely uninviting.

He dismissed her instantly, turning back to look toward the deep end of the pool—only to find you staring straight back at him with a lethal, blinding fire burning hot in your eyes.

He gulped, his breath taken away.

—

After your day in the pool ended and you were back in your villa, the silence between you had grown so heavier. You finally broke it, “I am going to secure the tech tonight.” Thor's back visibly stiffened at the sound of your voice. He turned to face you slowly, his blue eyes guarded. “What do you need me to do?” he asked, his voice rough and gravelly.

You gulped, forcing your professional mask back into place. “Distract Alejandro in the VIP section while I slip away. I'll pretend to go to the bathroom, access the private vault down the hall, and once I have the drive, I'll signal you through the comms so we can leave.” He nodded briefly, his jaw flexing. “Okay,” he whispered.

The process of getting ready was done in a tense, rhythmic quiet. Thor threw on a black linen shirt and charcoal linen pants, looking effortlessly devastating. You opted for a flowy, lightweight black dress that gave you maximum mobility, pairing it with flat, elegant leather sandals—you needed to be comfortable and silent on your feet tonight.

You headed down to dinner, the atmosphere of the resort's high-end restaurant buzzing around you while you sat like ghosts. You tried to eat whatever your stomach would allow, but you had absolutely no appetite after the events of the day. Every time your eyes accidentally met his, you both looked away, shielding your wounds. Once dinner was cleared, it was time. You made your way toward the exclusive VIP lounge, immediately spotting Alejandro lounging in a velvet booth surrounded by bodyguards. You and Thor exchanged a quick, imperceptible glance, checked the small clicks of your earpieces, and nodded.

Alejandro boomed with laughter the moment he saw you approach. “My friends! Welcome, welcome!” he cried, throwing his arms wide open in his usual boisterous display.

You both forced tight, practiced smiles onto your faces. Thor stepped forward, giving the man a brief, friendly hug before turning toward the booth to sit down. Before you could even slide onto the leather cushion next to him, Thor’s large hand securely gripped your waist. Your heart instantly went completely haywire as he effortlessly lifted you and pulled you right down onto his lap.

You two had been distant all day. He had to hold you. He needed to make amends, to feel the heat of your skin against his, even if it was just under the guise of the mission. At least, that was the only excuse his desperate mind could construct if you angrly yelled at him about it later.

You smiled tightly for Alejandro's benefit, but your fingers dug with an icy, warning firmness into the back of Thor's thick neck—a silent, furious message for him to let go. But Thor didn't care. He didn't care about the silent threat as long as he got to hold you in his arms for just a second longer before this mission ended and you went back to the compound to avoid him forever. He simply tightened his grip, pulling you flush against his chest, and smiled widely at Alejandro.

Alejandro chuckled deeply at the display of affection. “Always passionate, I see.”

You turned a sickly sweet smile toward the arms dealer, leaning into the cover. “Always,” you cooed, before casually looking around the lounge. “Where is Valentin tonight?” You instantly felt Thor's fingers dig sharply into your waist, his grip turning possessive at the mention of the man he had been burning with jealousy over. Alejandro made a dismissive, ‘don't care’ gesture with his hand. “Ah, he claims he is sick. Staying in his villa tonight.”

“Oh, poor guy,” you purred, feigning deep sympathy. “I hope he gets better soon.” Thor’s fingers dug even deeper into your hip bone, a silent, growling protest that you had to actively ignore.

You endured another twenty minutes of Alejandro’s endless boasting, monitoring the guard rotation out of the corner of your eye. Finally, the hallway leading to the back offices cleared. You lightly tapped Thor’s broad shoulder, signaling him that it was time. "I need to go to the restroom, honey," you said loudly enough for the table to hear, sliding off his lap.

He didn't protest, maintaining his role, but his blue eyes burned holes straight through your frame as you walked away. The moment you turned the corner out of the lounge's line of sight, the sweet smile vanished from your face. Your heart rate spiked, breathing sharpening as you slipped into the dim, restricted corridor. Using the digital master key you had covertly cloned from the resort's mainframe, you bypassed the electronic lock on Alejandro's private office in three seconds flat. The door clicked open with a faint hiss. You slipped inside, closing it silently behind you.

The room was dark, illuminated only by the ambient glow of the resort's outdoor lights filtering through the blinds. You moved like a shadow across the plush carpet, heading straight for the ornate bookshelf on the far wall. Pressing the hidden release mechanism behind a heavy brass statue, the wall ground open to reveal a reinforced titanium safe. Your fingers flew across the keypad, inputting the encryption codes you had painfully secured earlier in the week. BEEP. The safe's heavy bolts retracted. You quickly dismanntled the failsafe and looked inside the safe.

There, resting on a velvet cushion, was a glowing, intricately carved container pulsing with a faint, dark energy—the stolen Dark Elf convergence technology. Beside it lay the encrypted flash drive containing the buyers' manifests. Your breath hitched. This was it. The culmination of hours of putting up with Thor, hours of hiding your heart, hours of surviving. You carefully wrapped the artifact in a specialized containment cloth to mask its energy signature, slipping it and the drive into the secure inner pocket of your dress.

You locked the safe, closed the hidden door, and stepped back out into the hallway, your heart hammering against your ribs. Pressing your finger to your earpiece, “Package secured. Perimeter clear. Let's mo—“ you were cut off as a heavy, sweating hand clamped brutally over your mouth from behind, and the cold steel of a gun barrel pressed hard into the side of your head. Fuck.

Back in the VIP lounge, Thor’s earpiece crackled with your voice. The sound instantly soothed his aching heart, but the relief didn't last long. You were cut off mid-word, your voice muffled into a sharp static gasp. His heart dropped straight to his stomach, cold dread instantly replacing his focus. What the fuck?

He smoothly stood up, cutting Alejandro off mid-sentence with a firm, booming laugh as he patted the man's shoulder, masking the terror roaring in his veins. "It has been an absolute pleasure, Alejandro, but my wife has been feeling quite fatigued from our travels. I must take her back to our quarters," Thor said, his tone leaving absolutely no room for argument. Before Alejandro could even protest, Thor was already walking away, his long strides carrying him down the corridor. “Little Flame? What is happening?” he whispered franticallyy into his comms, his hands trembling with a mix of fear and rising fury.

You didn't respond. The silence on the other end drove him to the edge. The second he stepped into the shadow of the back hallway, out of sight of the guests, he raised his hand. With a crackle, Stormbreaker materialized into his grip, the blue sparks already dancing along the heavy blade.

“So you were here to get to this, all along?” came Valentin's sharp, bitter voice from behind you. Thor's voice crackled instantly in your ear, low and lethal. “Is it him?” Bound by the hand over your mouth, you could only press a tight, affirmative hum into the microphone.

Valentin spoke again, his grip tightening. "The only reason why you were interested in me?" He sounded entirely wrecked, like he couldn't believe his own ego had been brokenby a spy. You gulped, trying to calculate your leverage. Sensing your shift, he cautiously removed his hand from your mouth to let you speak, keeping the gun digging into your temple. “Valentin, calm dow—“ CRACK. He ruthlessly smacked the heavy side of the gun against the side of your head. The force made your head snap to the side, a low, painful grunt ripping from your throat as your vision blurred for a split second. This motherfucker.

“Did he just fucking hit you?” came Thor's roaring voice through the comms, the nger in his tone vibrating so hard it rattled your earpiece. You quickly let out another hum, trying to mask it as a groan of lingering pain so that Valentin wouldn't realize you were on an active channel. “Are you still in the same spot?” Thor demanded, his footsteps shaking the building as he sprinted toward your coordinates. This fucker had absolutely no chance. He was dying tonight.

You hummed again in confirmation, which only served to irritate Valentin further. He grabbed your chin, turning your face toward him, forcing you to look into his wild, unhinged eyes. A crazy, desperate smile spread across his face. “I think you should give me a kiss before you go,” he whispered darkly. He closed his eyes, leaning his face directly into yours. Big mistake.

The second his eyes shut, your training took over. You threw your head back, violently slamming the crown of your skull against his nose. He staggered back with a curse, and you used the momentum to drive a sharp elbow directly into his ribs, successfully hitting the gun away from your head. You spun, sweeping your leg out to take his ankles, but Valentin was fueled by pure adrenaline; he managed to catch his balance, his face twisting in fury as he lunged forward. He slammed you back against the wall, his hand locking tightly around your neck, and pointed the gun straight at your head from the front, yelling directly into your face.

But before he could even pull the trigger—before he could do anything at all—the gun in his hand was struck by a massive, flying axe. Stormbreaker sheared the weapon completely in half, embedding itself deep into the wall with a deafening thud. “I told you to stay away from her, did I not?”

And then came hell. Thor burst through the doorway, a literal storm rolling in behind him. He didn't even use his weapon. He descended on Valentin like an enraged deity, reaching out and grabbing the man by the collar of his expensive suit. “No—“ Valentin scrambled, his face draining of all color as he looked up into the face of a god.

“You hit her, and you tried to kiss her?” Thor rumbled, his voice shaking the light fixtures above. “You are in big trouble, boy.”

With a display of raw strength, Thor hoisted him completely off the floor and slammed him ruthlessly against the concrete wall. Thor's eyes completely turned into a blinding, static blue, the white-hot electricity arcing across his shoulders and down his arms. Valentin desperately pleaded for his life, gasping for air, but Thor was entirely deaf to it.

You slid down to the floor, clutching your throbbing head, watching the entire scene unfold in awe. Thor grabbed Valentin by the neck, lifting him higher, and delivered two brutal, bone-crushing punches straight to his jaw. Then, with a dark, final grunt of fury, he let the lightning loose. A massive burst of pure electricity fried Valentin instantly, dropping his lifeless body to the floor in a smoking heap. Oops.

The room went quiet, save for the faint hum of residual static. Thor immediately spun around, the terrifying god of war instantly vanishing the moment his eyes landed on you. He rushed to his knees at your side, his large hand gently but firmly holding your jaw, tilting your head up to assess the dark bruising swelling near your temple.

You tried to pull away slightly, the intensity of his focus making your chest tighten. “I'm fine,” you muttered. But your heart was beating erratically in your chest, completely overwhelmed by the unhinged protectiveness he had just shown. He had literally killed a man for putting a hand on you. He was fussing over you like you were the most precious thing in the universe. Was he really the same guy you thought regretted everything this morning?

Seeing the deep, pained expression of guilt and fear swirling in his blue eyes, you let out a soft sigh, your voice softening. “I heal fast, remember?” Thor cleared his throat, his thumb lingering against your jaw for one more second before he reluctantly nodded and let you go.

He helped you up and you both quickly slipped out of the room, heading out into the humid night air. You sprinted back to the villa, throwing your clothes into your luggage in a silent rush, before moving stealthily toward the designated extraction point in the cliffs. Once outside in the dark, Thor held Stormbreaker high into the sky, the Bifrost roaring down in a blinding beam of rainbow light, swallowing you both whole.

—

It has been two days since you came back, and you and Thor were completely ignoring each other. It was obvious to everyone else in the compound; it was the exact polar opposite of what you guys were always like. Normally, you kept riling each other up because you secretly loved it. You yelled at each other, threatened each other daily, but you were always together, attached at the hip like some dysfunctional shadow.

Now? He let you have your morning coffee without a single fuss. You let him be whenever he talked like the booming Asgardian he is, not even bothering to roll your eyes. You weren't even in the same room unless it was absolutely necessary to begin with; either you or Thor would leave the second the other walked in. It was an undeniable fact that youwere both desperately staying away from each other.

And you missed him. You missed the way he riled you up, missed the way he smiled down at you with that smug but inexplicably sweet expression on his face... you missed him so much it hurt your very soul. Natasha had quietly asked about it, Tony made a few mocking jokes, Steve only silently analyzed you two with a furrowed brow, and Scott? Well, Scott wasn't really aware of anything going on. But Rocket had literally yelled, “Why the hell are you two not fighting?!” at the both of you in the kitchen yesterday. You had only turned and left the room without a word, while Thor merely grunted, staring miserably into his mug as he sipped his coffee.

You had mandatory team training today. Eager to avoid any confrontation, you woke up at 5:00 AM just to have your coffee and breakfast completely away from him and everyone else, before retreating straight back to your room to get ready into your tight, black gear.

Thor woke up a few hours later and had his coffee as usual, but it felt entirely tasteless without the usual, fiery fight he had with you over who got to pour the first cup. Fuck, he missed you. He missed you so much he felt it aching deep in his bones, his heart, his lungs—everywhere. He hated this distance. He hated the silence.

He quickly made his way down to the training area, his intense blue eyes scanning the perimeter the second he stepped foot on the grass, instantly searching for you. And there you were near the equipment mats, talking to Steve with a quiet familiarity, just like you had been doing for the last two days. The sight of you leaning in slightly to hear what the captain was saying made rage build inside Thor's chest. The static in his veins flared, his jaw locking hard as his fists clenched at his sides.

It cannot be, his mind echoed fiercely, a desperate attempt to talk himself down. You are getting jealous over nothing. He is merely her teammate. But as he watched Steve laugh at something you said, Thor's chest hollowed out with that same burning, possessive fire that had consumed him before. He turned his head away, staring out across the vast, sun-drenched gardens of the compound, trying to force his breathing to steady. He was clearly out of his mind. He was a god, for kingdoms' sake, yet he was ready to throw down with the Captain over a simple conversation.

Meanwhile, out on the grass near the training mats, you and Steve were actually talking about the exact elephant in the room. “Tell me, doll, what happened with you two?” Steve asked, his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze shifting between you and the brooding god standing fifty yards away by the glass doors. “Nothing” you said immediately, adjusting the tracking straps on your wrists, trying to deflect. “It's obvious, you know? Don't bother lying.” Steve’s voice was gentle, but persistent.

You looked down at your combat boots, the weight of the secret pressing too heavily on your chest. Looking around to ensure no one else was in earshot, you finally whispered, “We slept together, Steve.” Steve's eyebrows furrowed in deep, pure confusion. “Okay... I know you don't exactly like the guy, but sleeping in the same bed couldn't have caused this much of a disaster—“ You snapped your head up and rolled your eyes, letting out a heavy sigh. Idiots. The whole lot of them were pure idiots. “Steve. Not like that,” you said, slapping your hand against your forehead. He had completely dismissed the actual option because his straight-laced brain simply couldn't believe it.

“What do you mean?” he asked again, completely lost.

You huffed, crossing your arms tightly. “We had sex.”

Steve’s eyes widened to the size of saucers, his arms instantly uncrossing as his brain short-circuited. “You—“ he pointed a finger at you, then pointed vaguely in Thor's direction. “Thor—“ he stammered, blubbering out in total confusion, it was very uncharacteristic of him you admit.

“Yes,” you cut him off, wanting to get the bandage ripped off. “And he regrets it, but me? I'm completely in love with him. Yay!” you said sarcastically, clapping your hands together in a mocking, bitter celebration.

Steve stood there in pure shock. You had never seen the Captain America look so entirely stunned, but then, something passed through his eyes. It was like a veil had been lifted, an entire timeline of events rewriting itself in his mind. “That's why you guys were always together,” he said, realization dawning on him. “You two are completely in love—“

“Whoa! Hold your horses,” you interrupted, your face heating up under the morning sun. “I am the one who's in love. Not him. He couldn't wait to escape the bed the next morning—“

“He is definitely in love with you—“ Steve started to counter, his voice laced with the certainty of a man who had been watching Thor pine from the sidelines for years. But whatever wisdom he was about to drop was loudly cut off by Tony’s voice echoing across the lawn through a megaphone. “We're all here, folks, let's get started! Cap, stop flirting with Shadow, goldilocks looks like he's about to blast you with lightning!” Tony yelled, gesturing toward the center of the field.

You stiffened, your eyes instinctively darting over to Thor, who was already marching onto the grass, his expression promising devastation for whoever had to spar with him today.

Your heart fastened at the sight of him, your eyes darting over his heavy frame, completely unable to control the sudden spike in your pulse. Steve grumbled something under his breath about Tony being incredibly annoying as he stood up and offered you a hand. You took his hand and got up, brushing the grass off your tight athletic pants.

Suddenly, a faint rumble of thunder vibrated through the ground. You paused, your eyebrows furrowing as you looked up at the sky, only to see bright, uninterrupted sunshine. Your eyebrows furrowed deeper. Okay... were you actually going insane?

“Did you hear that?” Steve asked quietly, looking over at you. You nodded, relieved that you weren't the only one losing your mind. But then Steve’s lips twitched into a knowing, subtle smirk. “Not in love with you, you said?” he murmured, giving you a pointed look before he turned and walked toward the center of the lawn.

You stood frozen in place for two more seconds, processing his words, before forcing your feet to move toward the rest of the team. Thor, Steve, Tony, Bruce, Scott, Nat, Clint, and even Rocket—everyone was gathered on the grass.

“Alright, listen up, children,” Tony announced, clapping his hands together. “Today we're doing partner drills. Mixed combat.” Rocket immediately hopped forward, pointing a tiny, clawed finger at you. “Pair me with Shadow! I wanna be her badass partner!”

“Why does this bunny keep yelling?” Tony muttered, rubbing his temples before looking down at the raccoon and pointing a dramatic finger across the yard. “No! Look at pointbreak over there!” He gestured toward Thor, who was standing like a dark, towering statue of menace, the grass practically singeing beneath his boots. “He's going to be her partner or we're all getting barbecued today!”

Your expression soured instantly. Okay, what the hell? Did everyone switch sides? Tony knew Thor despised you so why would he try to pair you up with him? Rocket turned his head to look at Thor, blinked at the glare the god was throwing his way, and made a startled, defensive expression. “Okay, yeah, you're right.” But then Rocket snapped his head back to Tony, baring his teeth. “I'm not a fucking bunny!”

Steve immediately interrupted, his captain instincts kicking in. “Rocket, language!” You rolled your eyes heavily. “Really, Steve?”

“Grandpa,” Tony muttered in agreement, rolling his eyes. “Alright, let's start.”

Your partner was Thor, as Tony had so graciously assigned, and standing across from you on the mats was Steve paired up with Bruce. The strategy was obvious—Bruce was meant to keep Thor occupied. The second the starting signal was given, Hulk lunged straight at Thor.

While Thor was engaged, his massive fists trading heavy blows with the green giant, he kept looking sideways at you. He was completely distracted by how easily you and Steve had slid into perfect synchronization. His blood burned hot in his veins. Focus, his mind echoed fiercely, but every time he saw Steve catch your arm to fling you into a high kick, his vision swam with red. With a roar of frustration, Thor drove a massive punch straight into the Hulk's jaw, sending the massive beast stumbling back a few heavy steps.

Meanwhile, you and Steve were moving seamlessly. You ducked low under Steve's arm, using his shoulder as leverage to drive a brutal spin-kick directly into his abdomen but he caught your foot smiling at you. You retreated yoou foot, vaulted off the ground, twisting mid-air to deliver a kick. But something that shouldn't have happened, happened. As you came down, Steve extended a hand, catching you firmly by the waist to stabilize your landing.

The moment Steve’s hands locked onto your waist, the sky changed. Thick, dark storm clouds suddenly swirled over the compound out of nowhere, completely blocking the sun in a matter of seconds. A massive, deafening rumble of thunder crashed directly overhead, accompanied by a simple, gravelly growl, “No.”

You blinked, looking over just in time to see Thor completely abandon his fight with the Hulk, turning his back on the training exercise entirely as he marched straight toward you.

“No,” he simply repeated, his face a mask of pure fury. Before you or Steve could even register what was happening, Thor reached out, his hands wrapping around your upper arms, and yanked you away from Steve, pulling you flush against his chest.

Your eyes narrowed into lethal slits, the physical contact setting your nerves on fire. “What the hell do you think you're doing?”

“I am removing you from Steve's arms,” he stated matter-of-factly, his chest heaving heavily against your back, his deep voice carrying a possessive finality.

Every single eye on the field was instantly focused on the two of you. The entire team stood frozen in pure shock—except for Steve. Steve would have been shocked too, if he hadn't just heard your confession three minutes prior.

“Thor, calm down,” Steve said evenly, raising his hands in a placating gesture.

But Thor snapped his head up, his blue eyes blazing with static electricity. “Do not talk, Steve,” he threatened, a rumble vibrating from his throat. Absolute displeasure and violence radiated off his massive frame.

“Don't,” you hissed, struggling fiercely against his iron grip, trying to wrench your arms free. “Don't you dare try to act all possessive now, when you are the one who regrets everything—“

“Regret?” Thor asked, the word cutting through his anger as he stopped, staring down at you. “Me?”

Then, to your utter fury, he let out a dark, breathless chuckle. “You are a hypocrite, Little Flame.”

Natasha took one look at the amount of tension and immediately turned to the rest of the team. “I think we should give them space.” Tony didn't even glance away, his eyes wide as he actively enjoyed the spectacle. It was like he was watching his absolute favorite primetime drama play out live. “Why? We're all outdoors. Shouldn't they be the ones to go inside for privac—“

“Tony,” Natasha said warning him.

“Okay, alright,” Tony caved, raising his hands.

He and the rest of the team quickly retreated toward the compound, but even Natasha couldn't help herself; the second they got inside, the entire lineup of Avengers pressed themselves against the glass doors, watching the drama unfold through the windows.

“What is that supposed to mean?” You countered fiercely, turning fully in his grip to face him, your chest heaving.

“You are the one who regrets everything! Flirting with Steve the second you came back—“

“Excuse me? We were not flirting!” you yelled back, chuckling in pure, broken frustration as you looked away for a split second before snapping your eyes back to his burning gaze. “We were talking, like friends do! Hold on—you don't get to question me on that, seeing as you were clearly comfortable flirting with her!”

Thor huffed, his eyebrows furrowing in genuine confusion. “Who have I flirted with?!”

“Don't play dumb now, Thor! THE RECEPTIONIST!” you screamed, the weight of the last forty-eight hours finally breaking through your defenses. Tears of hot, angry frustration built up rapidly in your eyes, blurring your vision as your voice cracked. “You left me the second the sun rose! You left the bed completely empty! And then you proceeded to go and flirt with her!”

“I was not flirting with her!” he bellowed, the desperation in his voice cracking through the thunder rolling above. “I woke up early because I wanted to surprise you,” he insisted, completely ignoring the venom dripping from your words. “You were sleeping so deeply... you looked so peaceful, and I did not want to wake you. I went down there specifically to get your favorite fruits and coffee to bring back to our quarters. That girl—she just approached me. I did not even hear a word she said, I swear it to you by the All-Father! I was only thinking of you.”

You scoffed, a broken, trembling sound. “And the smiling?” you challenged, your voice shaking despite your best efforts to keep your shields up. “You looked down at her and smiled, Thor. I saw you.”

He shook his head frantically, “I was smiling because I was happy!” he burst out, his massive chest heaving under his athletic shirt. “I was thinking about how you looked in my arms. I was thinking about what you told me before you slept. I was happy because of you, Little Flame. Not her. Never her.”

You stared up at him, your breath hitching sharply in your throat. He sounded so painfully sincere, so desperately eager to clear his name, but the cold dread of your own insecurities was still screaming in the back of your mind.

“You left the bed empty,” you whispered, your professional facade completely shattering as your voice cracked, exposing the raw, bleeding core of your heart. “You weren't there when I woke up.”

Thor froze. His eyebrows knitted together tightly as the realization of what you had been torturing yourself with finally dawned on his mind. His heart dropped straight to his stomach, a weight crushing him as he realized the terror and abandonment he had accidentally put you through.

“Oh, gods,” he breathed, his fierce, possessive expression melting into pure heartbreak. His voice cracked with emotion. “You thought I regretted it? You thought I left you?”

You looked away, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze. “You—“ You tried to speak, but a small, pathetic sniffle escaped you instead. The sound made Thor take a sharp, painful intake of breath. Moving instantly, his large hand came up, his fingers gently but firmly holding your chin to force your face back up so you had to look at him.

“I do not regret it. I could never regret it,” he said, his blue eyes swimming with a matching pain as he looked down at your tear-stained face.

You sniffled again, looking up at him through wet lashes. Your heart was beating frantically against your ribs, a spark of dangerous, beautiful hope flaring to life in your chest. Taking a breath, you asked something you never, in a million years, thought you would ever ask the arrogant god.

“Do you like me?” you whispered, your small hand coming up to hold the thick wrist of the arm holding your chin.

Thor's face immediately scrunched up into a deeply offended, dismissive expression. “Not so much.”

Your heart instantly dropped straight to your stomach, the rejection freezing your blood. “But you—“

Before you could finish the sentence, Thor reached out and grabbed your cheeks with both of his massive hands, tilting your head up as he brought his mouth down on yours. He kissed you deeply, passionately, a bruising, breathless possession that completely wiped all thoughts from your brain. When he finally pulled back just a fraction, his thumbs wiping the fresh tears from your cheeks, he continued his sentence.

“I do not like you. I am completely and utterly in love with you,” he confessed, the words hitting you right in the center of your chest.

A startled, watery laugh bubbled out of your throat. “You dumbass,” you chuckled, your hands moving to grip his forearms as a massive, radiant smile finally broke across your face. “Why would you word it like that?” Thor didn't care about his poor phrasing; his eyes were boring into yours with an intense, desperate seriousness. “Do you?” he asked, looking down at you with adoration.

“Do I what?”

“Regret it,”

“I don't,” you said, shaking your head without a single second of hesitation. “Why would I, when you are the man I am completely in love with?” you whispered, finally letting the confession pass your lips.

Thor’s blue eyes lit up like a blinding flash of lightning. A breathtaking smile split his handsome face, and without waiting another syllable, he slammed his lips back onto yours, kissing you with a ferocious, joyful hunger.

“I do not know what is wrong with me, Little Flame,” he mumbled against your lips between deep, bruising kisses. “I do not know how I did not realize sooner how pathetically in love I am with you.” His large hands slid down from your face, wrapping firmly around your waist and lifting you slightly off the grass to deepen the kiss, completely forgetting they were standing in the middle of a compound training field.

Inside the building, behind the massive glass doors, the entire lineup of Avengers was pressed flat against the window. Tony was rooted completely in place, his mouth agape, his hands raised in bewilderment. “Are you guys seeing what I am seeing, or am I hallucinating? Is Point break currently kissing Shadow?” Natasha stood next to him, a triumphant, knowing smirk spreading across her lips as she crossed her arms. “About damn time.”

Outside, Thor kept kissing you thoroughly, but suddenly, he pulled his face away by a mere inch. Your eyebrows knitted together in immediate irritation at the loss of contact. “What is it?” You asked. Thor hesitated, his jaw flexing as he muttered just one word, the lingering jealousy still clear in his tone: “Steve?”

You rolled your eyes, letting out a breathless laugh as you locked your hands behind his neck and pulled his head right back down to your lips. “Don't piss me off while I'm kissing you,” you murmured against his mouth.

Thor let out a low, vibrating hum of pure compliance against your lips. “You are right, I’m sorry, I love you,” he mumbled onto your mouth, his grip on your waist tightening as he buried his face back into yours.

—

Masterlist

Taglist: @sinceimetyou @awkwardgiraffe726 @midasgard @mediocre-introvert @gurlidkiread @claytaysversion @landocat

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORK TO BE FED INTO ANY AI BOTS. THIS INCLUDES CHARACTER.AI, JANITOR.AI, ETC. I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORKS TO BE TRANSLATED, REPOSTED, REWORKED IN ANY WAY, SHAPE OR FORM.

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

This was absolutely fucking beautiful!!! Fully obsessed with how obsessed Thor is 😈

[smgespn]

Thank you so much for reading💖💖

[unearthlydust]

CAPTAIN AMERICA: CIVIL WAR (2016)

[blowingbarnes]

hands down the hottest bucky has ever fucking looked don’t at me I need this man in a way so carnal

[smgespn]

Not So Much

Masterlist

Pairing: Thor Odinson X Reader

Summary: He was your teammate but also the person you disliked the most in the universe. He was always loud, he thrived on impulsive decisions, and he loved annoying you. You were the opposite, you moved through shadows quietly, analyzed every move before you made them. And now? They were sending you on a mission with him. Just the two of you. As husband and wife.

Content: Fake Marriage, Enemies To Lovers, Forced Proximity, Yearning, Tension, Slow Burn, Angst, Infinity War-Endgame Thor, King Thor, Protective Thor, Jealous Thor, Possessive Thor, Jealous Reader, They Are Touching Each Other Every Chance They Get, Bickering Final Boss, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Explicit SMUT (It starts from '—', and ends with it so you can skip it if you want)

Word Count: 40k

Note: I live for annoying but sweet Thor 😭 His most dominant personality traits i swear and the way he gets angry FAST😛 My mannn fr (took me a whole month to write this, not proofread sorry for any typos or mistakes)

Minors Do Not Interact

—

You wanted to kill him.

You wanted, with every fiber of your being, to wrap your hands around his thick, infuriating neck and choke the life out of him right there on the polished marble floor of the Avengers Compound kitchen. It was a beautiful, violent fantasy that played in your mind in vivid detail—but unfortunately for you, the man was a damn god, and your fingers would probably snap before his airway even constricted.

“I said no, Thor. I got here first,” you hissed, your voice a sharp, venomous whisper as you slammed your shoulder into his side, trying to forcefully shove his massive frame away from the espresso machine.

The sleek chrome appliance sat on the counter like a holy grail, reflecting the harsh morning light. At this ungodly hour, that single machine was the only thing bonding your soul to the realm of the living. You just loved your morning coffee too much. It was the one ritual that made your life feel somewhat normal. And he, as always, was standing squarely in the way—demanding, with all the unearned arrogance of Asgardian royalty, that he be the first one to use it.

“Stop pushing me away, will you? It does nothing but tickle me, Little Flame,” he grumbled, a deep sound that came from somewhere deep in his broad chest.

He didn't even look at you, his eyes fixed on the digital screen of the machine as his large hands came down to carelessly pry your fingers off his waist. Your eyes narrowed into lethal slits, the heat rising in your cheeks at the sound of the ridiculous nickname and the casual condescension dripping from his tone.

“I have been telling you for years, Thor, stop calling me that,” you snapped, pulling your hands back and crossing them over your chest in a furious, protective stance. “And what is that supposed to mean? Are you implying that I’m weak?”

Thor finally turned his head, his short, textured blonde hair catching the lights. A lazy, incredibly punchable smirk broke across his handsome face. He held his massive, heavily muscled arm out horizontally, creating an unbreakable physical barrier that completely blocked you from reaching the coffee pods.

“Why? I think it rather suits you. Feisty little—”

Before he could finish the sentence, you slapped his forearm with a loud, resounding smack, grabbing his wrist with both hands and pulling down with all your weight, trying to rip his arm away from the machine. It was like trying to move a mountain with a piece of string.

“Weaker than me, surely,” he said, his smirk widening as he easily kept his arm locked in place against your full-body strain.

Okay, fine. He was stating a cold, unyielding fact. He was a cosmic entity. He was objectively, biologically stronger than you. Your cell structure had been locked in a permanent, un-aging loop by a rogue lab experiment, giving you endless youth and an unbreakable healing factor—not the brute strength to wrestle the God of Thunder. But you would rather walk barefoot on needles than ever admit his physical superiority to his face.

“What are you two bickering about again?”

Natasha’s exhausted, monotone voice sliced through the tension. She walked into the kitchen, holding an empty mug, her green eyes fixed on the two of you with the heavy, soul-deep weariness of a woman who was entirely done with you being at each other's throats every five minutes.

That was the true tragedy of your existence. Outside the reinforced walls of this compound, Thor was a global icon. He was the golden savior, a benevolent, charming god who was nice to every single human being he encountered. If you went to the press and told them how much he absolutely loved to torment, provoke, and annoy you on a daily basis, not a single soul on Earth would believe you. To the rest of the universe, he was a god. To you, he was a giant, golden-retriever-brained nuisance.

Your left eye literally twitched with fury as you whipped your head around to face Nat. “He’s being a child again!”

“I am only in need of my morning beverage—” Thor protested smoothly.

“I got here first!” You spun back toward him, throwing your hands up in the air, your eyes wide with erratic anger.

“And I will be drinking my coffee, first,” he replied with a smug tilt of his chin.

Before you could lunge forward to block him, his large fingers immediately darted past your face and pushed the start button. The machine whirred to life, a dark stream of espresso pouring directly into the ceramic cup you had painstakingly selected and placed there a minute ago.

Thor watched the liquid fill the mug, leaning his hip against the counter as he grabbed the handle. “See? Easy as that,” he mumbled, grinning straight into the steam as he took a slow, loud, deliberate sip right in front of your face.

Your face went a furious, burning red. Your breath hitched, your vision blurring with a wave of pure, chaotic rage. You wanted to grab that hot mug straight out of his hand and throw the boiling liquid right over his clean grey t-shirt. You wanted to watch the stain spread across his chest while you laughed in his face.

Honestly? That was a damn good idea. Your muscles coiled, your fingers twitching as you prepared to lunge at him and commit a felony.

But just as your sneakers gripped the tile, Natasha let out a sharp, interrupting sigh. “The team is waiting for you in the briefing room,” she said, turning on her heel and gesturing toward the sliding glass doors of the hallway. “Let’s go, lovebirds.”

The words cut through the kitchen like a sudden frost. You and Thor both froze instantly, the childish hostility evaporating into a stunned, icy paralysis.

“What?” you said in perfect unison. The word tore from your throats at the exact same second, your voices blending together as you both whipped your heads around to look at Natasha. But she didn't stop to explain—she simply walked down the corridor toward the war room, a wicked, knowing smirk playing on the corner of her lips as she left the two of you standing in the quiet kitchen, completely blindsided by the ominous weight of her words.

“Fucking weirdos everywhere,” you grumbled under your breath.

Before he could even swallow his next stolen sip, you forcefully jammed your palms right into the center of his chest. You used every single ounce of strength your muscles could muster up, throwing your entire body weight into the strike. You needed that damn coffee, and you would get that damn coffee.

Thor actually stumbled back a step, a booming chuckle ripping from his throat at the absolute volatility of your expression. You were completely furious. He honestly had no idea why annoying you brought him such immense satisfaction, but it did. It was an addiction at this point.

In his eyes, you were just absolutely no fun. From the very first day he met you, you had done nothing but jab at him for being too loud and obvious. You were always rolling your eyes, saying things like, “You only know how to smash things and be reckless, Thor,” and “Stealth is an actual concept, you know?”

Now, Thor didn't dislike a lot of people. He was a damn lovable person—the golden boy of the Nine Realms, and now, an absolutely attentive king. But when it came to you? He couldn't help it. You rubbed him the wrong way all the damn time, your sharp tongue grating on his nerves. He could say with absolute, unyielding certainty that he disliked you. A lot.

You were still grumbling under your breath about him stealing your favorite ceramic mug when you noticed his massive shadow was still hovering directly over you.

“Why are you still here?” you asked, your voice coming out far more irritated than it should have. You internally cursed yourself; you were giving him way too much power over your emotions.

“I simply want to watch you sip on your beverage after me,” he said, flashing you a brilliant, smug smile.

You huffed, grabbing your freshly poured cup from the machine. “Thor, just call it coffee. Calling it a beverage does not make it sound any fancier.”

You slid past his broad shoulder, taking a deliberate, aggressive sip of your drink before making your way toward the sliding glass doors of the briefing room. He immediately fell into step behind you, his massive, sweeping strides matching yours in a pure, frustrating rhythm.

“It does sound better when I call it a beverage,” he argued, his heavy leather boots thudding loudly against the floorboards as if he could make his statement more convincing by physical force.

“Sure, lord of thunder,” you murmured, a wicked, knowing smirk pulling at your lips. You knew exactly which buttons to push, and that specific title was your absolute favorite weapon.

“I am the god of thunder!” he hissed from behind you, his voice dropping into a defensive, offended rumble. “You know what? I know you are doing this on purpose—you are intentionally trying to—”

You pushed through the glass doors, entering the sleek, high-tech briefing room with the God of Thunder hot on your heels, still fiercely grumbling about the distinct theological differences between a lord and a god.

“Ah, our favorite couple, arguing again,” Tony said loudly, opening his arms wide in a dramatic, welcoming gesture from the head of the conference table. He leaned back in his chair, a classic, mischievous glint in his eyes. “Still not able to decide whether they want to kill each other or fuck—“

Before the final, crude word could even leave his mouth, your reflexes took over. Your hand blurred. You snatched a thick, heavy tactical folder from the edge of the table and launched it through the air with lethal, pinpoint precision.

Smack. The folder hit Tony squarely across the bridge of his nose, the papers scattering in a neat halo around his chair.

“Ow! Okay, there was absolutely no need for that,” Tony muttered, wincing as he gingerly adjusted his tinted glasses, though the smirk never truly left his face. He looked over at Natasha and Steve, who were already seated, completely unfazed by the morning violence.

“You talk too much, Stark,” Thor grumbled, pulling out a chair and dropping his massive frame into it with a loud thud that resonated through the room.

Your eyebrows shot up instantly as you sat down yourself. “Says you?” you retorted, gesturing toward his broad chest with your coffee mug. “You literally haven't shut up since the kitchen.”

“Let’s just focus on our objective, okay, guys?” Steve said, running a tired palm over his face, completely done with your collective energy so early in the morning. He pushed himself up from his seat next to Tony, leaning his broad shoulders over the holographic table to command the room.

Steve tapped the digital console, and the lights in the briefing room dimmed instantly, replaced by a glowing, three-dimensional blueprint of an ultra-private luxury island floating in the Mediterranean.

“Our focus is here: The Sanctuary,” Steve began, his voice dropping into his serious captain tone. “On paper, it’s an exclusive, hyper-secure resort for the world's billionaires, corrupt politicians, and elite criminals. But over the last forty-eight hours, our satellites intercepted an unencrypted dark-web signal bouncing from the island’s lower levels. A rogue faction has managed to smuggle a massive cache of volatile, leftover Dark Elf technology onto the premises. They’re hosting a private, black-market auction to sell it off to the highest bidder.”

You leaned forward, your brain instantly analyzing the island's perimeter. “So we drop in, neutralize the buyers, and secure the tech. Sounds like a standard Tuesday. Why are we all sitting here?”

“Because it’s a hostage situation waiting to happen if we go in loud,” Natasha spoke up from the corner, her fingers tapping against her tablet. “The entire island is rigged with a quantum-fission failsafe connected to the central vault. If the resort’s biometric security detects a frontal assault, a breach, or a single Quinjet on their radar, the system will instantly detonate the alien cache. It’ll vaporize the island and take half of Western Europe out with the blast wave. It requires a ghost to dismantle the failsafe from the inside.”

“A ghost?” you repeated, a slow, dark smile creeping onto your face. “Perfect. I’ll go in undercover as a maid, slip into the server room, kill the signal, and leave before anyone even finishes their champagne.”

“You’re half right,” Tony cut in, tapping his pen against his cheek. “You are going undercover. But you’re not going as a maid, Shadow. The resort has a strict, biometric-level verification system for all service staff, but their guest list is curated entirely by the billionaire owner—an eccentric, power-obsessed arms dealer named Moretti. He has a strict ‘No Media, Couples Only’ policy for his guests to protect their privacy.”

Tony smirked, leaning forward and typing a command into his console. The holographic display shifted from the island to a digital invitation, written in gold lettering, making your eyes go wide. No.

“Moretti is obsessed with power, gods, and mythology,” Tony explained, his eyes darting between you and the blonde King sitting across from you. “He doesn't just want money; he wants prestige. So, we gave him exactly what he wanted. We leaked a carefully staged, ‘top-secret’ paparazzi photo to the press this morning. The official narrative? The newly crowned King of Asgard has secretly retired from his bachelor days and eloped with a fierce, mysterious warrior woman.”

Your breath hitched violently in your throat. The coffee in your mug suddenly felt like acid.

“What?” you whispered, your heart stopping. You were an Avenger; you were known to the world, but you operated mostly in the quiet, precise darkness. To be thrust into the center of attention like this was your worst nightmare.

Thor froze, his hand stopping mid-air as he went to scratch his short blonde beard. His blue eyes went incredibly wide as he stared at the holographic invitation. “Stark—what madness are you speaking of?”

“It’s simple, lovebirds,” Natasha said, her voice laced with an infuriatingly calm amusement. “Moretti swallowed the bait hook, line, and sinker. The moment he saw the news that the King Of Asgard was on a secret honeymoon, he personally sent out an exclusive, all-access VIP invitation to the royal couple. You two are the ultimate distraction.”

Steve looked at the two of you, his expression sympathetic but unyielding. “Thor keeps all eyes on him by playing the loud, boastful, larger-than-life husband, giving you the perfect cover to move through the high-society crowds, slip into the shadows, and quietly dismantle the failsafe without triggering the biometric alarms. You need his status to get through the front door, and he needs your precision to make sure the island doesn't explode.”

“You expect me,” you said slowly, your voice dropping into a lethal, dangerous sound as you pointed a finger across the table, “to pretend to be blissfully, passionately in love with him? For how long exactly?”

“Not a soul here but you said passionately—“ Thor grumbled but was cut off by you, “Shut up, will you?”

Thor’s hands twitched, like he was holding himself from doing something irrational. He sighed a long breath, trying to compose himself, he didn’t think he could do this. Why did it have to be you, of all people?

But your skills in being a ghost were too good—too fucking perfect for your own good. So he knew the reason why it had to be you, but he protested anyway, he turned to Steve, “I do not see why she should be the one coming with me—“

You didn’t let him finish, rolling your eyes as you said “I’m not loving the idea either—“

“Depends on you, really. Could just be two days or a whole week.“ Steve said cutting both of you off as he looked at the both of you, clearly distressed at your brewing argument, again. “An entire week?” you said, your voice dripping with irritation, your jaw locking at the mere thought of it.

“Hey, it’s a tough gig, but someone’s gotta do it,” Tony chuckled, completely ignoring the murderous look you were throwing him across the table. “Congratulations, kids. Pack your bags. You’re going on a honeymoon.”

—

You were huffing and puffing as you aggressively packed your suitcases—yes, suitcases, plural.

You were practically tearing through your wardrobe, shoving in dresses, hats, sunglasses, and anything else you could get your hands on, entirely leaving the burden of actually coordinating an outfit for later. The second you had escaped the briefing room, you had fled to your quarters. The news was still pouring over you like boiling water, making your skin burn with a restless, defensive heat just thinking about it.

How the hell were you going to pretend to be his wife?

The only thing you were biologically capable of doing near that man was yelling at him, throwing files at his head, or arguing until you were blue in the face. He got on your nerves every single second of the day, provoking you with that smug arrogance of his, making you want to literally peel your own skin off your bones just to escape his proximity. And now you were supposed to look into his blue eyes and play the part of a blushing, smitten bride on a Mediterranean honeymoon. It was sick. It was a comedy of errors written by a cruel universe.

As you slammed another folded gown into the suitcase, your movements suddenly slowed. Your eyes caught sight of the faint, jagged scars marring the skin over your forearms and stomach.

A sudden, heavy wave of insecurity bubbled up inside your chest, overtaking the rage. The thought of being forced into revealing resort wear—of being paraded around an island full of hyper-critical, judgmental billionaires who you knew would dissect your every flaw—infiltrated your mind.

Usually, you were secure in your own skin. You were an Avenger, for God's sake. You were a lethal weapon, and honestly, you did wear dresses when the occasion called for it. But in this context? Under the blinding, global spotlight? You felt like a fraud. You felt like every single pair of eyes on that island would be glued to you, the judgmental, elitist sneers of high society cutting right through you simply because you were Thor’s goddamn wife. You were the woman who had supposedly tamed the King of Asgard, and they would be looking for any reason to tear you apart.

The scars were a permanent, physical gift from your torturers. The monsters who had turned you immortal years ago.

You could not die of age. You could not fall succumb to diseases. Even lethal wounds healed seamlessly within hours if properly attended to. You were stuck living like this forever, the terrifying nightmares from those months in the lab still playing in your mind night after night, making your throat go completely sore as you woke up screaming for them to stop. The experiments had broken your human limitations, locking your cellular structure in a permanent, un-aging loop.

You sharply rubbed at your eyes with the palms of your hands, trying to force the horrific memories to flee from your mind. The ghosts of your past loved to haunt you wherever you went, but you couldn't afford a breakdown today. Not with a flight to catch.

Letting out a heavy, defeated sigh, you declared yourself done with the chaotic packing. You bit your lip anxiously as you got ready for the travel day, pulling a simple, breezy white summer dress over your frame. The fabric flared gently around your knees, and you slid your feet into a pair of modest kitten heels. Finally, you pulled a soft white cardigan over your shoulders, fastening a few buttons, strictly wanting to ensure you wouldn't freeze before you reached your destination. You took one last look in the mirror, masking the assassin, masking the scars, and preparing to face your fate.

As you opened the door, struggling to maneuver your suitcases out of the room, you immediately heard his voice booming down the corridor.

“How are you going to carry those by yourself?” Thor asked, leaning against the wall with a wicked, entirely too handsome smile plastered across his face.

He was obviously going to help you. If the King of Asgard was anything, he was a gentleman down to his very bones—but he didn't just want to be helpful. He wanted to hear the words come out of your mouth. He wanted you to look him in the eye and actively admit that you needed his help. He knew you would absolutely hate doing it, which only made him crave it more.

“I can handle myself just fine,” you breathed out defensively. You leaned your weight back, using the rolling wheels of the suitcases to your advantage. Your pride was still firmly intact because you could easily drag them behind you on a flat surface, but you knew deep down that you couldn't physically lift both of these giant, overpacked cases at the same time down a flight of stairs. But he most definitely did not need to know that.

“Oh? So you don’t need any assistance at all?” he remarked smoothly. He was casually carrying his own massive tactical suitcase in one hand by the handle, his arm barely flexing. It was probably like holding a mosquito between his fingers for him.

“No. Especially not from you,” you huffed, your heels clicking sharply against the tile as you tried to wheel past him, clearly getting irritated by his mere existence.

“Hm,” he just mumbled, a deeply amused sound vibrating in his throat as he turned and watched you walk over to the elevator banks.

You aggressively pressed the down button, silently begging the universe for the doors to open as fast as humanly possible. You could feel Thor’s massive presence looming right behind you, practically radiating an eager energy, just waiting for another opportunity to prod at you.

“What are you waiting for?” you asked, your voice incredibly tight from pure annoyance.

He chuckled, the sound low and rumbling. “For the elevator, Little Flame. Same as you.”

You could feel his massive, broad frame standing directly behind your back. Even though there were a few inches of space separating you, he was like a literal furnace, a heavy, intoxicating heat radiating off his body and wrapping around your shoulders.

You rolled your eyes at the ceiling. “You can carry your own suitcase. I don't see why—” You abruptly cut yourself off, closing your eyes tightly, your face scrunching up in disdain.

Fuck. You had just walked right into his trap.

“Oh, so you cannot carry yours?” he prodded instantly, his tone dripping with sheer amusement. Your eyes opened back up immediately.

Where was this fucking elevator?!

Realizing the lift was taking too long, you sharply turned around to face him. Your bruised, stubborn ego completely hijacked your brain, making you snap at him before you could stop yourself. “I very much can!”

Thor looked down at you, his blue eyes sparkling with a level of amusement that was bordering on infuriating. “Oh, please, be my guest, will you?” He dramatically extended his free hand, gesturing toward the grand concrete staircase at the end of the hall. You huffed a sharp breath through your nose, your jaw locking. “Fine.”

You spun on your heels, deliberately dragging your heavy suitcases over to the very edge of the stairs, desperately delaying the exact moment you would actually have to lift them. When you finally reached the top step, you stopped and stared down at the luggage, your brain going into overdrive as you calculated the weight distribution.

Thor followed you, enjoying every single second of this entirely too much. Even his stance—weight shifted to one hip, a smirk playing on his lips—radiated absolute satisfaction.

“Struggling there?” he asked, taking a deliberate step closer to you.

“Not at all,” you lied through your teeth. Your eyes narrowed into lethal slits as you stared at him, and out of pure, stubborn stupidity, you grabbed the handles of both massive suitcases.

Bracing yourself in your goddamn kitten heels, you attempted to lift them both off the ground at the exact same time.

But the second your muscles tensed and you yanked them up, the combined, brutal weight of the luggage completely threw off your center of gravity. Your body violently swung forward toward the edge of the stairs, the momentum dragging you directly downward. A sharp, terrified yelp tore from your throat as your foot slipped on the smooth edge. You closed your eyes, waiting for the inevitable impact.

You were definitely going down. You were going to roll down a flight of concrete stairs in a white summer dress, become the laughing stock of the entire Avengers Compound, and probably severely injure yourself—meaning you'd have to hobble around the island waiting for your powers to slowly knit your bones back together. Amazing. Brilliant execution, babe, bravo.

But just as those thoughts raced through your mind, they disappeared entirely.

A massive, incredibly solid arm suddenly wrapped like an iron band around your waist. With one effortless, powerful pull, he caught your entire body weight, dragging you firmly back from the edge of the abyss and slamming your back flush against his broad, solid chest.

You opened your eyes—which you hadn't even realized you'd squeezed shut—and let out a shaky, breathless sigh of pure relief. Your heart was hammering like a drum against your ribs.

“Perhaps now, you will admit that you need me to carry them for you,” he mumbled. His voice was a gravelly rasp right against the back of your ear, his warm breath fanning across your skin and causing a shiver of goosebumps to erupt down your neck and arms.

Your breath caught. You quickly huffed, using your hands to pry his heavy arm away from your waist. The skin beneath your dress was practically burning from his touch, but you absolutely did not have the mental capacity to dwell on that right now.

You turned around to face him, your cheeks flushed, your expression a mixture of distress and absolute fury that you had just proven him entirely right.

“Fine,” you said, your voice tight and defeated.

Thor didn't move an inch out of your personal space. He looked down at you, his eyes slowly tracing over your flushed face and your white dress, a smug, triumphant look in his gaze.

“Fine, what?” he challenged softly, wanting every single syllable of his victory.

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, your pride fiercely battling against the cold reality of the situation. You darted a desperate look toward the elevator, but the glowing digital screen indicated it was still stuck on a lower floor. Frustrated and completely cornered, you aggressively slammed your right foot down against the tile floor like a spoiled child. He always brought that irritating, uncharacteristic side out of you.

“Okay,” you snapped, completely averting your gaze from his face as you mumbled, “Ineedyoutocarrymyluggageforme.”

The words tumbled out of your mouth in a single, rushed, completely unintelligible breath, your eyes locked onto the center of his chest.

“What?” Thor chuckled again, the hilarious sight of you stomping your foot and speaking at supersonic speed catching him entirely off guard. A deep, rumble of laughter shook his chest. “I did not quite get that, Little Flame. Can you say it again?” He was enjoying this far too much for his own good, the smug triumph radiating off him in waves.

“I need you to carry my luggage for me,” you enunciated sharply, every word dripping with pure annoyance.

Instead of just taking the win, Thor brought a thick finger to his chin, tapping it as if he were lost in deep thought. He scrunched up his handsome face, tilting his head. “I don’t think that was a really nice way of asking someone to carry your ginormous suitcases for you.”

“Ugh!” You let out a loud, frustrated yell, throwing your hands down to your sides as you forced yourself to look him dead in his sparkling blue eyes. “Will you please carry my luggage for me?”

He smiled triumphantly, his entire face lighting up like a kid on Christmas morning. He finally stepped forward and grabbed your two bags, arranging them in perfect order back-to-back so their elongated handles lined up close together. Then, with a single, massive hand, he closed his fingers over both handles at once. With his own tactical suitcase in his other hand, he effortlessly lifted all three massive bags off the floor without a single hint of strain.

The elevator suddenly dinged, the doors sliding open just as he hoisted the luggage into the air. Ordinarily, you would have completely lost your temper at timing like that. You would have cursed the universe out loud for making you beg for help only for the elevator to arrive a second later.

But the words died in your throat.

The sight of him carrying all three heavy suitcases at once made you breathe in a sharp, sudden gasp. Your pulse skipped a beat in your chest, and your eyes involuntarily roamed all over his frame. He had changed out of his grey t-shirt before coming to your door; he was now wearing a tight black t-shirt that hugged the broad expanse of his chest and shoulders, paired with tailored charcoal linen pants and black loafers.

He looked good. So fucking hot, in fact, that it sent an unexpected, electric tingle shooting straight through your core and settling deep in your stomach. The sight of his veins popping and his massive biceps bulging as he easily carried the weight of your entire life in one hand was—

What the fuck? What the hell was wrong with you?

You were fully aware that the King of Asgard possessed heart-stoppingly good looks—the entire planet was aware of it—but his infuriating behaviour toward you usually stopped you from ever enjoying the sight. You were supposed to dislike him. You were rivals. But what the fuck had just happened to your brain?

You sharply cleared your throat, forcefully tearing your eyes away from his arms as your cheeks burned a bright, furious crimson. Desperate to hide your sudden fluster, you quickly turned and marched past him, going down the staird in a fastened pace.

Thor smoothly followed behind you, his loafers making zero noise on the concrete, while your heels clicked loudly and rapidly down the steps, echoing your erratic, racing heartbeat.

Thor was watching you walk down the stairs before him, still visibly fuming that he had managed to break your stubborn streak and force a please out of your mouth. He was utterly relishing the victory, a brilliant, smug smile that practically screamed he had won etched across his handsome features while he effortlessly balanced your massive luggage in his grip.

But his smugness didn't last long.

You huffed, stopping for a brief second on the landing. With a fluid, deliberate motion, you slid your white cardigan off your shoulders, pooling the fabric into one hand. The sudden movement exposed the sharp, elegant lines of your collarbones in the strapless white dress. You flipped your hair to one side, completely baring the smooth expanse of your neck to the air—and to him. Then, as if you couldn't quite decide what kind of sensory torture you wanted to execute on the King of Asgard, you started heading down the remaining stairs, your hips swaying with a natural, intoxicating rhythm.

Thor took a sudden, sharp breath at the sight before him. His blue eyes went wide, running over your frame, completely unable to decide where to look. His gaze got hopelessly caught on the soft curve of your shoulders, the narrow dip of your waist, the hypnotic roll of your hips.

A hot rush of blood surged to his head. His breath caught violently in his chest, and for the first time in his immortal life, the God of Thunder actually stumbled on a concrete step. His black loafer clipped the edge, his chest heaving as he quickly caught himself.

What the actual hell was happening? He was well aware that you were breathtaking; he had seen the way people’s heads turned whenever you walked into a room without you even trying. But this? This reaction was entirely uncalled for. He disliked you. He disliked your sharp tongue and the way you always had a quip ready to jab at him. He shouldn't be admiring you, yet his heart was currently hammering against his ribs like a war drum.

Hearing his sudden, heavy stumble, you paused and turned your head back to see what was wrong. You found him standing a few steps above you, his jaw slightly slack. A wicked smile slowly bloomed across your face.

“What was that, Your Majesty? Are they too much for you to carry?” you taunted, shifting your body so your chest was fully turned toward him.

Thor’s eyes helplessly drifted downward to your now fully visible chest, his breath catching for a second time that day. The flush on his neck deepened. He aggressively cleared his throat, forcing his eyes up to meet your smirking face.

“Hah! I can move literal mountains, Little Flame. These trinkets are nothing to me,” he mumbled defensively, his voice a bit more rushed than usual. “I simply lost my balance is all.”

Desperate to escape your mocking gaze, he practically ran down the remaining stairs, his loafers squeaking slightly against the polished concrete as he hurried into the main lobby with all three suitcases clutched tightly in his hands.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you watched him go, continuing your descent. The discarded cardigan remained clutched in your hand; you felt entirely too hot, your own racing thoughts making your skin flush. You gulped, trying to aggressively shoo the bizarre tension out of your mind. You hated him. You needed to get a grip.

When you finally reached the expansive glass entrance of the compound, Thor was already standing there, deep in a heated discussion with Tony.

“Why spend hours traveling in one of your metal birds when we can get there in seconds?” Thor was arguing, his brow furrowed in genuine, godly confusion.

Tony turned toward you as you approached, a wicked, entirely too amused smirk lighting up his face. “Ah, perfect timing, Shadow. Point Break here is staging a mutiny. He says you two don't need to board a plane or take a Quinjet.”

“How come?” you asked, your blood suddenly running cold. An ominous weight dropped into your stomach because you could already guess exactly what the god of thunder had in mind.

“Stormbreaker can take us across the world in seconds,” Thor said, turning his massive frame toward you, completely serious.

“But—” you started, your mind frantically grasping for any viable excuse to avoid being that physically close to him for a cosmic teleportation ride. “But how will you carry the luggage while we traverse realms? It’s impossible.”

“You just hold onto me, and I will handle the rest,” he said easily, dismissively, as if he were explaining the most simple, mundane task in the world. You swallowed hard, your heart doing a strange flip. “But Thor, you have to hold Stormbreaker in one hand, and the luggage in the other. What about me? Where am I supposed to go?”

Thor let out a sharp, irritated huff, clearly done with you dragging out the inevitable. “I said I will handle it. Now, let us go.”

He turned away, marching through the sliding glass doors into the bright morning air. He dropped his own suitcase onto the concrete pavement and extended his right hand toward the sky. Within a split second, a loud, crackling boom echoed through the compound as the massive, heavy blade of Stormbreaker flew from his room straight into his waiting palm.

With practiced, terrifying strength, he gathered the handles of all three massive suitcases into his other hand, hoisting them up effortlessly. He turned his head, his short blonde hair catching the sunlight, and motioned sharply with his chin for you to come closer.

You narrowed your eyes at him stubbornly, crossing your arms over your chest. “What if I don’t want to—” Before you could even finish your protest, Thor’s patience snapped. In one swift, blur of a movement, his massive hand shot out and grabbed you firmly by the wrist.

You let out a sharp yelp as he effortlessly yanked you forward into his personal space, his strength completely overriding your balance. He forcefully guided your arms around his thick middle, pulling you so close that your cheek was muffled right against the hard, solid muscle of his chest.

You could feel his heavy pectoral muscles instantly tighten at the sudden contact, a wave of intense, radiating heat washing over you. Before you could even open your mouth to yell at him for handling you so roughly, his deep, rumbling voice vibrated right through his chest wall against your ear. “Hold on tight.” And with a sudden, blinding flash of blue electricity, he raised Stormbreaker high into the sky.

A blinding burst of color erupted all around you as the Bifrost engulfed you both. The roaring force of the cosmic energy threatened to rip you away, and you instinctively closed your eyes tightly, holding yourself steady by gluing your body entirely to his. Your fingers dug firmly into the fabric of his shirt, pulling yourself so close that there wasn’t a single millimeter of space left between your chest and his.

Then, just as quickly as it had begun, the rushing roar vanished.

You felt your heels solidly touch the ground, arriving at your destination in a second. For a moment, your hands remained tightly locked around his middle and your face was still pressed right against the warm, hard muscle of his chest, you could hear his heartbeat thudding against his ribs.

Slowly, you forced your eyes open and pulled your face back, blinking against the sudden, brilliant glare of the Mediterranean sun.

The Sanctuary stretched out before you, you were standing on a private, pristine white-stone terrace that overlooked a sprawling, crescent-shaped bay. The water below was a blinding, translucent turquoise, so clear that you could see the dark, shifting shadows of coral reefs deep beneath the surface. Sleek, multi-million-dollar superyachts were anchored in the distance, polished and gleaming under the midday sun.

The resort itself was built directly into the towering, sun-bleached cliffs of the island. It was a marvel of modern, minimalist design blended with ancient luxury—all clean white concrete, floor-to-ceiling glass panels, and cascading infinity pools that seemed to spill directly into the ocean below. Lavish, vibrant pink bougainvillea and lush green palms draped over stone walkways, softening the sharp lines of the villas.

Your nostrills filled with the scent of saltwater, expensive citrus perfume, and blooming jasmine. In the distance, you could hear the faint, muted clinking of crystal glasses and the smooth, ambient lounge music drifting from an exclusive beachfront pavilion. It was entirely peaceful, completely hidden from the rest of the world, and crawling with some of the most dangerous, corrupt elite on the planet.

You let out a slow breath, your eyes immediately mapping out the security cameras hidden in the palm trees and the heavily armed guards dressed in casual, matching resort linen suits.

“You can let go of me now, Little Flame,” Thor’s deep voice murmured directly above you, a distinct trace of that familiar, smug amusement vibrating right against your hands. “Unless, of course, you are already enjoying the perks of marriage.”

You blinked, sharply pushing yourself away from his broad chest. “You wish,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes as you aggressively smoothed down the wrinkled fabric of your white summer dress. “I’m not exactly into lords, anyway. I prefer a much stronger title.”

“Good thing I am not a lord, then,” he replied smoothly. For the first time, he didn't get defensive or angry at the jab. Instead, he just stood there, smiling down at you with a gaze so wicked that you could practically feel the blood rushing straight to your head.

You internally groaned, chastising yourself. Stupid girl. You really should have thought beforehand that he would turn your own words right back on you like that. But before your scrambled brain could piece together a proper, biting retort, the heavy footsteps of the resort's security staff cut you off.

“Are you invited, sir?”

A burly bodyguard in a pristine, light-blue linen suit approached the two of you. His voice was laced with a deep, unmistakable tone of respect; he clearly recognized the King of Asgard, but he was trying to maintain the island's strict protocol.

“Yes,” you intervened seamlessly, sliding in front of Thor. Your training kicked in instantly, and a perfected, dazzling smile etched itself onto your face. You held up your phone, displaying the exclusive, gold-rimmed digital invitation Tony had intercepted.

The bodyguard scanned the screen, nodding, but his cautious gaze quickly drifted down to the massive, terrifying axe gripped firmly in Thor's left hand. “We... do not allow weapons on the resort grounds, sir. If you could leave it with security—”

“Ah, that is easily remedied,” Thor interrupted cheerfully. With a casual flick of his wrist, the massive, razor-sharp blade of Stormbreaker melted away, shrinking down until it transformed into a simple, polished black umbrella. You whipped your head around to look at the object, completely deadpan. “An umbrella? In this weather?” you muttered, gesturing to the cloudless, blazing mediterranean sky.

Thor’s eyebrows furrowed at you, his jaw tightening in annoyance at your public critique. “Well, there is something called a summer rain, sweetheart,” he said, faking an incredibly sweet, doting smile for the sake of the watchibg guard, though his blue eyes promised absolute murder.

“I don’t think it’s going to rain anytime soon, honey,” you shot back, your voice dripping with a deep, sickeningly fake sugary sweetness as your own plastic smile widened. Before you could take another breath, Thor’s massive arm suddenly shot out, wrapping securely around your waist and forcefully dragging you flush into his side for a tight, suffocating hug.

A sharp, undignified yelp tore from your throat at the sudden impact, but you quickly cleared your throat, masking your shock as you gripped his forearm. He was absolutely enjoying torturing you, using the doting husband act as the perfect excuse to handle you however he pleased. You were going to kill him.

“I can make it rain anytime I wish,” he murmured, his tone biting at you in a dangerous, playful whisper that sent an involuntary shiver down your spine. He flashed one last dazzling smile at the bewildered bodyguard. “Now, let us go to our room, yeah?”

After that, the guard politely led you both through the sweeping glass doors toward the main lobby, where a receptionist stood behind a white marble desk, a bright, welcoming smile on her face.

“Welcome to The Sanctuary. Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Odinson,” she said smoothly, but the moment the words left her mouth, you saw her cringe a bit, her eyes darting between the digital registry and your face as she thought the names over. You noticed the hesitation instantly, Odinson did sound incredibly weird when referring to a woman.

“Is that your last name now, madam? Should I call you that?” she genuinely asked, looking a bit flustered, as if she were desperately trying to avoid making a mistake.

A massive grin broke across your face while Thor’s expression instantly soured. Oh, you liked this receptionist already.

“I genuinely have no idea. It does sound completely off when you say it like that, doesn't it?” you said, leaning against the marble desk. Then, you slowly turned your head to look up at him, your eyes wide with mock innocence. “Honey, is my last name Odinson now? Wouldn't that literally just mean I’m a son of Odin? I mea—”

He cut you off instantly, his jaw clenching as he growled under his breath, clearly pissed. “Well, we are in Midgard, darling. So your last name is now Odinson here, no? It is how things are done on this realm.” He forced out a tight, blindingly fake smile, trying his absolute best not to throw off the receptionist standing inches away.

You smiled right back, utterly loving the fact that you had managed to piss him off so quickly. You turned back to the receptionist, giving her a conspiratorial look. “Or you could just call me by my former last na—”

“No.” Thor cut you off again, his deep voice dropping an octave, completely unyielding as his blue eyes threw literal daggers down at you. “She will be referred to as Mrs. Odinson.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, your smile faltering for a split second. That was a remarkably quick, fiercely defensive reaction from him. Why the hell did he care so much about a fake human registry?

Recovering quickly, you huffed out a light, airy fake laugh for the receptionist's benefit, gesturing toward the rigid King beside you. “He gets incredibly defensive in situations like this,” you told her. Then, leaning in slightly, you whispered in a stage-whisper, “Male ego, am I right?” The receptionist let out a quiet, knowing chuckle and nodded her head in absolute agreement, clearly understanding exactly what you meant.

“I will show you to your room then, Mrs. Odinson,” she said, stepping out from behind the marble desk and motioning toward a glass elevator that overlooked the turquoise bay, while waving over a bellboy to take the three giant suitcases from Thor's hands.

Thor let the bellboy take the suitcases, his hands finally free as he followed the two of you toward the glass lift. The receptionist held the elevator doors open, gesturing politely with an extended hand, and once you and Thor stepped inside, she followed, pressing the button for the upper residential levels.

The elevator began its smooth ascent. Thor looked around the glass enclosure, his massive arms folding tightly over his broad chest. The movement made his biceps bulge prominently against the fabric of his t-shirt, and your traitorous eyes immediately darted downward, following the sharp lines of his muscles before you could even stop yourself.

“I like this Midgardian facility,” Thor remarked, his deep voice echoing in the enclosed space as he looked out at the view. “It is quite nice.”

“Me too. Love the design, honestly.” you said smoothly, flashing a perfect, effortless hand gesture, but as your eyes finally flicked away from Thor’s arm, you caught something out of the corner of your eye. A sudden, entirely unknown feeling brewed in the pit of your stomach.

The receptionist was staring at Thor’s arms. And she wasn't just glancing; she was so goddamn focused, her eyes tracing the thick veins of his biceps, that she didn't even notice your lethal gaze cutting right through her.

You were definitely taking it back—you did not like this girl at all.

Before your brain could even process the irrational spike of possessiveness, you acted on pure instinct. You stepped right into his space, cleared your throat sharply, and forcefully reached up to uncross his arms.

“What are—” Thor started, entirely caught off guard by the unexpected intrusion.

He was completely silenced as you forcefully dragged his broad frame down into a tight side hug. Your arm slid securely over his back, anchoring him to you, and you felt his breath hitch violently at the sudden contact. He froze for a second, his chest heaving, before he cleared his throat and let his massive hand find the curve of your waist, pulling you securely against his hip.

You kept your eyes locked dead on the receptionist, claiming your territory with absolute, unyielding dominance. You flashed her a wicked, razor-sharp smile. The girl's cheeks instantly flushed crimson, and she averted her eyes toward the floor, clearly mortified that she had been caught staring at a married man, beside his wife at that.

The second the threat was neutralized, your actions crashed down on you. You had absolutely no idea what had just come over you, or why the fuck you would ever do something like that over Thor. Okay, you probably—definitely did that because the thought of another woman disrespecting you by looking at your husband made you want to commit murder. Correction, supposed husband. Still he was your fucking husband for now and she was looking at him and— It’s all about you really, all good. Nothing to worry about.

Your face burned with a furious heat as you forced your gaze straight ahead, refusing to look at him, but you could feel the immense weight of his blue eyes staring down at the side of your face—burning you, fucking scorching you with an intense, questioning gaze.

Thankfully, the elevator dinged, saving you from the embarrassment.

The doors slid open, and you caught your first breathtaking sight of the upper facility. It wasn't a standard, enclosed hotel corridor. Instead, the elevator opened directly into the brilliant, open air of the cliffside. It was designed like an exclusive luxury resort enclave; the elevator connected the lower main lobby directly to an expansive, sun-drenched outdoor terrace that led to the private villa section of the property.

Stone pathways winded through lush, manicured tropical gardens, flanked by cascading water features and private infinity pools that looked like they hung off the edge of the world. The ocean breeze hit your face instantly, lifting the hem of your white dress, but the burning weight of Thor’s hand still resting firmly on your waist made it impossible to feel the cold.

You followed the receptionist, her eyes now glued strictly forward as she walked, her posture stiff with the embarrassment of the whole situation.

You tried to subtly peel yourself away from Thor’s side, but the moment you moved, the heavy grip of his hand on your waist tightened significantly. Your eyes instinctively glanced upward to him, ready to snap, but he was simply looking around at the passing scenery, appearing completely unbothered by the situation. Why wouldn't he let go? You wondered why the hell he would keep you tethered to his side like this, as if he actively wanted you there.

Then, doing something you thought you would absolutely never do, you let him. You quietly surrendered, allowing him to hold you tight against his hip as you both walked down the sun-drenched stone path.

Other elite couples passed you by, their judgmental eyes scanning you up and down as they noted the stunning, mysterious woman on the arm of the Asgardian King. This is exactly why he is keeping you glued to him, a strict, grounding voice echoed in your mind. Do not forget the objective, or the fact that you both could never, ever like each other like that. You swallowed hard, your own hand involuntarily tightening around his side for a split second. Why the fuck would you even think otherwise?

The receptionist finally approached a secluded, breathtaking cliffside villa. She opened the heavy timber door for you, stepping aside to hand you the room keycards.

The moment you stepped across the threshold, your eyes widened at the sight before you. Your blood ran completely cold. You let go of his waist immediately, and this time he actually let you.

Your hands were slightly shaking as you looked around the massive, sunlit room. Why hadn't you thought of this earlier? Ofcourse. It was painfully obvious. You were pretending to be a married couple on a honeymoon, after all.

You looked beside you only to see Thor standing entirely frozen, his lips slightly agape and his breathing turning shallow and fast as you both simultaneously realized how profoundly fucked up this mission actually was.

There was only one fucking bed.

It was a massive, ultra-luxurious king-sized bed, draped in crisp white linens and pushed directly against the center of the room, facing the glass walls that looked out over the ocean. Thor couldn't believe his own stupidity; how could he have thought he wouldn't have to share a bed with you on a mission where you were supposed to be blissfully in love? This mission was officially going to be the absolute death of him.

He slowly turned his head to look down at you, only to find you already staring up at him with completely bewildered, panicked eyes.

“I hope you like your room. Have a wonderful stay, Mr. and Mrs. Odinson,” the receptionist said, her voice finally breaking the tense silence that had descended upon the room.

The sound of her talking jolted you both out of your shared panic. You didn't even look at her fully, only giving a stiff side-eye and a tight nod before she quickly scrambled out of the room, shutting the heavy door behind her.

The second the click of the lock echoed through the villa, you spun on your heels to face him. Your voice was sharp, defensive, and entirely determined as you pointed a finger at him. “I will sleep in the bed.”

His eyes narrowed at you instantly. “No, I will,” he counter-attacked, and with two long, authoritative strides, he walked over to the bed and sat down heavily on the mattress, trying to claim the territory by physical force. You scoffed loudly, refusing to back down. You marched right over to the edge of the bed and sat down forcefully beside him, turning your body to face him dead-on. “I will,” you repeated stubbornly, your jaw locking.

Thor snorted, a challenge dancing in his blue eyes. “Okay, then. You will simply be sleeping next to me.”

Your eyes widened in sudden panic as you huffed out a sharp breath. “What?” you said, utterly bewildered by the casualness of his suggestion.

He rolled his eyes, gesturing broadly to the sprawling mattress behind him. “This is a massive bed, love. We both can fit, clearly.”

The moment the casual pet name slipped from his tongue, Thor internally bit down on it, desperately trying to maintain his stoic composure. What the fuck is my problem? he wondered, a silent storm raging in his mind as he stared at your flushed face. There was no one here to perform for. The door was locked. Yet his brain was completely short-circuiting.

Your breath hitched in your throat. Why the hell would he call you that when there wasn't a single soul around to witness it? You swallowed hard, trying to inject some of your usual venom back into your voice to hide your racing pulse. “You are ginormous, Thor. You would probably just roll over in the middle of the night and crush me to death or something—”

“I would never,” he said softly, cutting you off. He looked directly at you, his gaze suddenly changing into an intensity so deeply serious, that it made your heart give a treacherous flutter against your ribs.

You gulped, your mind going entirely blank. You tried to grasp for another excuse, another biting retort, but the gravity of his presence was making you forget everything else besides him.

Thor’s eyes roamed all over your face, desperately trying to dissect whatever panicked thoughts were racing through your mind. But as his gaze drifted downward, your bare arms caught his eye.

His breath hitched violently. His eyebrows furrowed into a deep, troubled line as his vision focused entirely on your skin.

How the hell had he never noticed them before?

Faint, jagged scars were littered all over your arms, disrupting your otherwise flawless skin. They were the unmistakable, ghostly remnants of... what? How could you have possibly acquired them? He knew you possessed an advanced healing factor—he had seen you bounce back from lethal battle wounds within hours—so if these marks remained, the trauma that caused them must have been unfathomable. It must have happened before you ever gained your abilities. But how did you even get your powers?

Thor realized, with a jarring pang in his chest, that he knew absolutely nothing about your history. He knew nothing of what had happened to you, where you had come from, or how you had earned those marks. A dark, protective rage began to brew in his chest, his breathing turning ragged as he stared at the faint lines.

You noticed the exact second his eyes shifted. A cold, suffocating dread pooled in your stomach.

Nobody outside of Tony, Steve, Natasha, and Bucky knew what had happened to you. Tony and Steve knew because they were the ones who had found you, breaking into that dark Hydra facility to save your life. Natasha knew because she was your absolute closest friend, the person who held you through the worst of the night terrors. Bucky knew only because you had trusted him with the truth, knowing he was the only one who truly understood the agony of being a broken, unwilling assassin.

But Thor? Thor hadn't been there when you were saved. He had been worlds away, dealing with the high-stakes matters of Asgard. And you, of course, had never told him. How could you? When he had finally returned to Earth and met you for the very first time, he had simply looked at you deadpan and muttered, “She looks gloomy.”

The comment had broken you. Before he had ever spoken to you, you had thought him absolutely extraordinary. The exact second you had caught sight of his legendary, powerful frame, an intense, quiet attraction had sparked inside you. But he had broken all of that in a single second by calling you gloomy, bruising your defensive ego and forcing you to react in the absolute worst way possible—yelling at him and starting a years-long war of petty arguments. He was the only person on the team who could ever get you to react with such unhinged irritation.

Now, your heart dropped straight to your stomach at the horrifying thought of him having another piece of leverage over you. He could never know the truth. You couldn't let him see your vulnerability.

As you watched his eyes frantically trace the lines on your skin, his massive left hand slowly ascended, his fingers instinctively reaching out to gently touch your arm.

The impending contact made you take a sharp, terrified breath. Your fight-or-flight response slammed into overdrive, and you abruptly stammered out a quick, “I have to pee!” Before he could even respond, you bolted off the mattress, practically running toward the privacy of the bathroom.

You rubbed your face as you gulped, staring at your reflection in the mirror.

I have to pee? Seriously? You couldn’t have found anything better to say?

The faster we are done with this, the better, you thought to yourself, anxiously pacing around the marble bathroom. Steve had said the mission could take anywhere from two days to an entire week. You were strictly determined to wrap this up in two days max—because if you didn't, so help you God, you were going to go completely insane.

You splashed ice-cold water on your face, breathing out a long, shaky exhale. You could do this. You could endure this. This was absolutely nothing compared to the horrors you had survived in your past, but for some reason, why did it feel like this was even worse?

Steeling your nerves, you finally walked out of the bathroom, only to see Thor standing outside on the terrace, his massive back turned to you. Your eyes involuntarily roamed over his broad figure, and you breathed out a long breath to calm your racing heart.

He heard you step into the room—of course he did. He turned back toward you, locking his blue eyes onto your face as he made his way back inside. “I like it here,” he mumbled, looking around the room before his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Where are our things? That servant took—”

Your eyebrows shot up instantly. “Servant?”

“Yes. The one who took our bags.”

You let out an involuntary, nervous giggle as you sat back down on the edge of the bed, rolling your eyes. “Thor, he’s not a servant. He’s a bellboy.” His brow furrowed even deeper. “Bellboy?”

“Yes. People who carry luggage to the rooms in hotels are called bellboys.”

“So... they are servants?” he repeated stubbornly. You huffed, deeply annoyed by his royal dense-headedness. “Thor, do not call anyone a servant to their face. It’s incredibly belittling and—” Right as the lecture was leaving your mouth, a sharp knock echoed from the front door.

“Ah! The servant is here,” Thor declared triumphantly, immediately striding toward the entryway to open it.

“Thor, no—” you gasped, scrambling up from the bed. You were desperately trying to intercept him, wanting to avoid a catastrophic conversation where he would inevitably embarrass the poor resort worker.

But Thor was too fast. He swung the door open and casually leaned his massive shoulder against the wall, watching the bellboy roll your three giant suitcases into the villa’s foyer. However, instead of ignoring you, Thor’s blue eyes were suddenly gleaming with pure mischief as he looked across the room at your panicked face.

Your eyes narrowed into lethal slits. You fiercely mouthed a very deliberate, aggressive 'No' to him.

But seeing your panic only made his smug smile widen. The exact second he opened his annoying, beautiful mouth to speak, your instincts slammed into overdrive. Your brain completely short-circuited. You scrambled over to him in a blind, chaotic rush. Before he could utter a single syllable, you threw yourself into his personal space, your arms wrapping securely around his thick neck as you hopped completely on top of him, forcefully pressing his face right into the crook of your neck to physically muffle his mouth against your skin.

Thor froze dead in his tracks. The sudden impact of your body would have knocked any human man flat on his back, but he didn't even sway. His breath hitched sharply, and his massive hands instinctively shot down, grabbing the back of your thighs to hold you up without breaking a single sweat.

The bellboy’s eyes went completely wide at the unexpected, intensely passionate display.

Your face burned a scorching, furious red as you awkwardly tilted your head back, your arms still locked around Thor's neck. “Just... love my husband so much, you know? Can’t help myself,” you breathed out, your voice strained as you forced a bright, desperately in love smile.

The bellboy nodded quickly, his eyes still dinner-plate wide as he awkwardly parked the luggage.

Thor’s head had been pinned right against your neck, but he suddenly lifted his head up forcefully, his godlike strength easily overriding your desperate attempt to hold him still.

“Cannot keep her hands to herself, this one,” Thor told the bellboy, a deep, rumbling chuckle vibrating through his chest. He was smiling brightly, clearly enjoying every single second of this absolute ordeal.

You literally could not believe you had just done that. You were just trying to spare the poor worker’s feelings, and—okay, fine, you absolutely did not need to jump on top of him like a koala. But in that split second of panic, your brain had completely ruled out kissing him as an option—obviously, because why were you even thinking of it in the first place?—, leaving you with no choice but to launch yourself at him to take him off guard.

The mortified bellboy practically scrambled out of the villa, quickly wishing you both a good day before slamming the door shut.

You let out a massive sigh of relief, your forehead dropping against Thor's shoulder. You hadn't even been able to give the poor guy a tip. You shook your head in deep disapproval, your gaze finally snapping back up to look at Thor.

And that’s when your brain finally caught up to the reality of your physical situation.

The room was dead silent. Thor was staring down at you with an incredibly intense, dark, and unreadable gaze. He was still holding you entirely aloft in his arms. Your legs were circled tightly around his broad waist, his heavy hands were gripping the bare skin under your thighs, and your goddamn summer dress had completely ridden up your legs. The direct, calloused touch of his palms against your skin was burning you like liquid fire.

Your breathing suddenly grew shallow and fast. Oh god. You needed to get off of him right now.

You swallowed hard, subtly shifting your weight to slide down, but his grip remained like iron bands. You couldn't move.

“You can let go now, you know?” you whispered, your voice lacking its usual bite as you stared into his intense blue eyes.

Thor aggressively cleared his throat, looking momentarily startled by how close your lips were to his. But within a fraction of a second, that goddamn smug, teasing smile started slow-burning across his face. You knew that exact expression, and it never meant anything good for your sanity.

“Why?” he murmured, his voice dropping into a low, rumbling rasp that sent a wave of heat straight to your core. “You willingly hopped into my arms, Little Flame. I might as well enjoy the embrace.”

You gasped in absolute outrage, sharply slapping his broad chest with your palm as you desperately tried to wrench yourself out of his grip. He was being annoying, cruel, and completely, fucking insufferable.

“Just let go of me, you pervert!” you snapped, your right hand desperately attempting to peel his iron grip off your bare leg.

He finally let go of you with a low, rumbling chuckle, clearly enjoying annoying you far too much for his own good. “Pervert? I am not the one who jumped blindly into your arms, Little Flame.”

You flushed a furious crimson, sharply turning your back to him to hide the heat on your face. “Let's just fucking get ready and try to find some info on our objective,” you muttered tightly. You grabbed one of your massive suitcases, plopping it down onto the luggage rack with a heavy thud, and unzipped it. Behind you, his quiet, amused chuckles continued to bounce off the walls, making your blood boil with pure anger, but you forced your mouth shut.

You aggressively rummaged through your clothes, grabbing a white, high-cut skimpy monokini and a breezy dress to wear over it. Clucthing the fabric to your chest, you marched straight back into the bathroom to get ready.

You locked the door, taking a few ragged breaths to settle your racing pulse. You fixed your hair, and carefully slipped into the monokini and the dress. Standing in front of the mirror, you let out a long exhale, though your face was still burning with a deep, stubborn embarrassment. You could do this. It was just a mission.

You emerged from the bathroom, deliberately looking anywhere but at Thor as he smoothly stepped past you to go get changed himself. You walked over to the vanity, but a few moments later, his booming, deeply confused voice echoed from the other side of the door.

“This just looks like underwear.”

The bathroom door swung open, and Thor walked out, looking down at himself with a bewildered expression. The second your eyes landed on him, you literally choked on your own spit.

He was wearing a pair of simple navy swimming trunks—and absolutely nothing else. No shirt, no linen button-down, nothing to cover the massive expanse of his upper body.

Your eyes involuntarily danced over his frame, your mouth falling slightly agape as you took him in. The midday sun streaming through the glass walls caught every single ridge of his body. Your gaze traced the thick, prominent veins running over his forearms and bulging biceps, moving up to the broad, heavy expanse of his chest, and dropping down to his rock-hard, perfectly sculpted abs.

Oh, fuck. You felt a sharp, electric flutter ignite deep down in your stomach.

“We Asgardians just go into the waters naked to swim, you know,” he stated proudly, adjusting the waistband of the trunks. “This Earth clothing feels ridiculous.”

He was probably referring to times back home when he did exactly that—swimming freely in royal Asgardian lakes, likely with beautiful women. But the sudden, intrusive mental image of going swimming with a completely naked Thor made you gulp harshly, your eyes widening in panic.

And that was the exact moment he caught the state of your face.

Thor froze. His breath hitched in his throat as his blue eyes locked onto you. Your beautiful eyes had darkened with an intense, raw heat, your gaze completely fixed on his bare chest while your sinful lips remained slightly parted. As he watched, your tongue subtly darted out to lick your lower lip, your breathing turning shallow.

The God of Thunder felt his entire frame go completely rigid in the middle of the room.

You were not thinking what he thought you were... were you? For the first time, a heavy, pounding tension that had nothing to do with anger or bickering flooded the air around you. Thor felt his heart skip a beat against his ribs at the terrifying, intoxicating thought of you actually looking at him like that, willing him to step closer.

You closed your eyes then, and the sudden, intrusive thought of him being completely naked with other women infiltrated your mind. It filled you with a strange, unexplainable feeling—a sharp, poisonous ache that you had felt before in your life but couldn't quite put your finger on. Your stomach actively churned at the mental image, a dark wave of possessiveness and frustration twisting tight inside your core mkaing you open your eyes back.

The lung-burning silence broke when you abruptly gulped, tearing your gaze away from his abdomen as your cheeks flared a bright, defensive red.

“Put a shirt on, will you?” you muttered breathlessly.

Without waiting for a response, you spun on your heel and practically bolted out onto the sun-drenched balcony, desperately needing the breeze to help you catch your breath before you completely lost your mind.

Inside, Thor’s eyebrows furrowed deeply. He stood entirely frozen in the center of the room, his heart dropping straight to his stomach at the words you had just thrown at him.

Of course.

Why the hell would he ever think you wanted him? What was he thinking? You obviously were not attracted to him in the slightest. In fact, it was the exact opposite—you clearly disliked him so much that you couldn't even bear to see a glimpse of his bare upper body, which was why you had breathlessly demanded he cover himself up.

Thor let out a low, frustrated groan, bringing his massive hands up to aggressively palm his face. Why did he even care so much? Why did your rejection sting like needles on his skin?

Steeling his posture, he marched back over to his suitcase, snatched up a matching navy t-shirt, and harshly yanked it down over his head, hiding his chest from view. He desperately needed a fucking drink. He was entirely certain there wasn’t a single alcoholic beverage on this entire planet that could properly numb his brain right now. Not even heavy Asgardian ale could get him drunk enough at this point. He actually was fucking sure there wasn't a single drink in the entire universe that could make him drunk enough to forget about you, your angelic face, these unexplainable feelings, and the damning fact that you absolutely hated him.

“Let’s go,” his deep voice boomed behind you.

Startled out of your thoughts on the balcony, you turned around and walked back inside the air-conditioned room. You quietly followed him as he strode over to the heavy front door, swinging it open and standing firmly in the entryway as he waited for you to walk past.

You went out, your wedge sandals clicking softly on the stone path as you took a deep breath of the humid air, trying to reset your frayed nerves. As you made your way down toward the main infinity pool with Thor by your side, you suddenly felt a firm, sudden tug on your hand.

Because you had left the villa first, you had been walking a few paces ahead of him, but with one effortless pull, he brought you right back next to his side. His massive palm slid against yours, his fingers wrapping around your hand and engulfing it completely.

Your pulse gave a wild, treacherous flutter. Your eyes filled with immediate, defensive questions as you snapped your head up to look at him. Your hand felt like it was on fire, your skin practically melting under the direct heat of his touch. But before you could snap at him, Thor simply gestured with a subtle tilt of his chin toward a few couples who were walking past, watching you closely.

Right. Real couples walked hand-in-hand. You were supposed to be blissfully married, so this was completely ordinary. You forced yourself to nod, your fingers slowly sliding into his, intertwining with his firmly to sell the act.

Before heading over to the pool deck, you stopped by the wooden towel stand. You grabbed two plush beach towels, offering a polite, dazzling smile and a quiet thank you to the young worker who handed them over. As you began walking toward two vacant, prime sunbeds you had spotted near the edge of the water, Thor leaned down significantly to get right on your level.

His warm breath brushed against your ear as he whispered, “Lots of servants here.”

You immediately looked up at him, your eyes boring holes into his face. “Thor, they are resort employees. Stop it,” you hissed under your breath.

A smug, infuriating smile broke across his face. He was clearly enjoying the easy way he could piss you off. Still, his hand didn't release yours; his fingers remained tightly engulfed around your hand as you finally settled right next to the vacant sunbeds.

He finally let go of your hand, though his blue eyes remained highly alert, scanning the perimeter. He took in the entire scene—the crowded pool bar, the glittering water, and the exclusive guests. Upbeat lounge music pulsed quietly from the hidden outdoor speakers as his gaze tracked the crowd.

His eyes locked onto a specific target sitting near the bar: a man with a distinct scar slicing through his left eyebrow, short black hair, and deeply bronzed skin. The stool next to the man was vacant, and he was casually sipping on a dark amber liquor—what Thor recognized as whiskey, a Midgardian drink he had tried during his time with the Avengers.

Thor turned his head back to tell you he had spotted their mark, but the words got caught in his throat.

You had already slid your dress off, leaving it pooled on the side of the chair. You were now sitting down comfortably on the sunbed, your bare legs stretched out in front of you.

The sight of your exposed skin and the incredibly skimpy, high-cut beachwear made a sudden rush of blood boil furiously through Thor's veins. His gaze darkened instantly, his eyes helplessly mapping the smooth expanse of your collarbones, your chest, and your fucking perfect legs. Oh, fuck. He literally couldn't breathe. The air vanished from his lungs, and he averted his eyes toward the sea, his heart hammering so wildly against his ribs he thought it might actually beat its way straight out of his chest.

Desperate to cool down, he aggressively cleared his throat and grabbed the hem of his t-shirt, yanking it off his body.

Your eyes remained glued strictly ahead of you, stubbornly refusing to spare him a single glance. You heard the rustle of fabric and the distinct sound of him tossing the shirt onto the table, but you refused to face him. You unfortunately felt far too many weird, dangerous things flipping in your stomach whenever you looked at his bare chest, and you weren't about to risk your sanity now. Fuck this entire operation, really, you thought bitterly.

You heard the sunbed creak as his massive weight sat down on the lounge chair right next to yours. Your positions were exactly identical, your legs laid out parallel to each other on the matching cushions. You were close—entirely too close.

Needing to ground yourself and focus on the mission, you leaned over toward him, lowering your voice to a sharp, determined whisper. “We either finish this in two days or an entire week. Let’s get this over with quickly, so that I do not have to be your wife for another—” But you had made the catastrophic mistake of turning your head to look at him while you whispered. The words died completely in your throat, and the remaining oxygen was brutally taken right out of your lungs.

Thor had laid back against the cushion, his massive, bare arms raised up next to his head to support the back of his neck. The position made his biceps and shoulders bulge spectacularly under the sunlight, the lines of his chest stretching taut.

“...second,” you trailed off breathlessly, your voice dropping to a faint whisper as you quickly snapped your head back to stare blindly at the water in front of you.

“I agree,” Thor said simply, his deep voice carrying a gravelly, tight edge as he stared straight ahead, too. “This whole ordeal is ridiculous, I’ll tell you that. There is absolutely no need to drag it out.”

You laid perfectly still on the sunbed, the intense heat baking your skin, but it was nothing compared to the suffocating tension radiating from the man lying right next to you.

What’s happening to me? you wondered frantically in your mind, trying to ground yourself as you looked around the bustling pool area. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the man with the scarred eyebrow, and a cold jolt of recognition hit you. He looked familiar because he was your target. Valentin Moretti, the spoiled, arrogant playboy of the family who handled the high-society entertainment and smuggling logistics at the resort. He was the only middleman who held the digital decryption keys to the Dark Elf tech you and Thor were trying to locate.

And right now, he was staring right at you.

The second his eyes hit you, his posture shifted. His dark eyes narrowed, deliberately burning their way down the length of your body, lingering heavily on the high-cut lines of your white monokini and your bare legs. A smooth, predatory smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. He raised his whiskey glass in a silent, incredibly bold toast directly toward you.

“I was just about to tell you I spotted our target, but it seems like he spotted you,” Thor grumbled. He glared over at Valentin, his blue eyes darkening to a stormy hue as his hands clenched into massive, white-knuckled fists behind his head. “Why the fuck is he staring at you like that?” he muttered, every single muscle in his broad frame clenching tight as he fought a losing battle to keep himself from doing something stupid. Like striking the fucker with a stray bolt of lightning.

“Thor, keep your eyes straight ahead,” you hissed back under your breath, stubbornly refusing to look at him. “Tony said he runs the security and digital access keys for the entire compound. If he’s interested, it means we have an opening.”

“An opening to what?” Thor muttered, his tone sharply biting. “He is vile. Look at how he comports himself.”

“An opening for me to get to know hi—”

“Absolutely not,” he interrupted, his voice cutting through the humid air like a sharpened blade.

Your eyebrows furrowed deeply. “What do you mean? We need him, Thor!” you whisper-shouted, sharply turning your body toward him.

He was staring literal daggers across the pool deck, his biceps bulging prominently as he breathed. He looked absolutely furious. You scoffed internally. Did the mere thought of another man being interested in you anger him this much? Did he despise you so profoundly that he couldn't even entertain the thought that a man could actually find you attractive? You breathed sharply through your nose like an enraged bull; you absolutely could not let his fragile ego fuck up this entire operation.

“I am going to the ladies room,” you announced abruptly.

You sat up, your hips shifting with a natural, subtle sway as you swung your legs off the lounge chair. The movement drew Thor’s intense gaze straight to your back, his eyes tracking you with the exact same heavy focus as a certain someone across the pool deck. Thor’s jaw clenched so hard a muscle ticked in his cheek. He knew exactly what you were doing; he was not fucking stupid. You were trying to get away from him to corner the target alone. And he was absolutely not going to let you.

You marched into the restroom, deliberately waiting inside for two full minutes to give Valentin time to notice your absence. When you finally emerged back into the bright sunshine, your eyes instantly scanned the area for Thor, but you couldn't find his giant frame anywhere near the sunbeds. Your brows knitted in concern. Where the fuck is he? You shook your head, dismissing the thought.

Continuing your way, your strides remained purposeful, your hips swaying with an intoxicating rhythm as you confidently made your way over to the open-air pool bar. You stopped right next to two stols away from Valentin, placing your hands flat on the polished marble counter.

“A cosmopolitan, please,” you told the bartender, flashing a polite smile.

Beside you, Valentin smirked and got up, sliding onto the stool right next to you. “Good afternoon,” he smoothed, his voice dripping with an arrogant, upper-class accent as he looked down at your frame. His smirk widened. “I don’t mean to intrude, but I haven't seen your face at the Sanctuary before. I am Valentin.”

You immediately forced your perfected, dazzling smile onto your face, tilting your head up to look at him. “Hello,” you said, your voice smooth, breathy, and entirely welcoming as you deliberately played the part.

Valentin’s dark eyes flashed with deep approval at your response. But just as he opened his mouth to speak, a heavy, solid weight crashed into your side.

A massive, bare arm wrapped securely around your waist, his fingers gripping your skin so tightly that your breath instantly hitched in your throat.

“Here you are, darling,” Thor muttered, leaning down so close his lips practically brushed your ear, though his icy gaze remained dead-locked onto Valentin.

“Here I am,” you said through your teeth. You forced out a light, airy giggle for appearance's sake, but underneath the counter, you aggressively pinched the skin of his arm. Just what did he think he was doing?

In response, his grip only tightened, anchoring you flush against his solid hip.

Valentin looked between the two of you, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise, though his arrogant smirk remained firmly in place. “Your companion didn't seem to care you were there just minutes ago,” Valentin noted smoothly, turning his attention entirely back to you and deliberately stepping a fraction closer to your space. “If you ever find yourself bored with the company, cara, I am always hosting private tastings in the VIP lounge upstairs. A woman of your taste shouldn't be left to just bake in the sun.”

Valentin finally flicked a dismissive, incredibly brief glance toward Thor, taking in his towering height, his bare chest, and his silent, murderous expression. Valentin chuckled softly under his breath, entirely assuming Thor was just some brainless, handsome trophy husband you kept around for arm candy.

You felt your eyes briefly close in pure panic as Thor tried to keep his mouth shut. The tension radiating off him was terrifying; he pulled you even harder against his side, his thumb digging into your waist. Didn't this mortal idiot know who he was dealing with? The God of Thunder looked like he was about to rip Valentin’s head off his shoulders and toss it directly into the infinity pool.

“My husband,” you intervened quickly, emphasizing the word heavily while throwing Thor a sharp, lethal warning glare, “is just enjoying the peace. But thank you for the invitation, Valentin. We might just take you up on that.”

“I look forward to it,” Valentin murmured, his eyes giving your body one last, shameless scan down to your bare legs. He gave a polite nod and turned back toward the bar, entirely unaware of how close he had just come to an early grave.

Thor practically dragged you out of there, his heavy grip guiding you back toward the sunbeds.

The second Valentin was out of earshot, you let out a sharp breath, turning your head to hiss at him. “What do you think you're doing?!”

Thor didn't even spare you a glance, his jaw set in a rigid line as he kept on walking, dragging you right along by his side. “I am not doing anything.” You huffed, sharply slapping his bare arm. “Thor, you're going to ruin everything!” He acted completely deaf, ignoring your slap as he kept his heavy strides forward.

“Tomorrow,” you whispered fiercely, leaning in closer to his side so none of the passing guests could overhear. “I am going to have to flirt with him to get those access codes, and you will not do things like what you just did!”

Thor’s head snapped toward you so fast your breath caught harshly in your chest. His blue eyes were burning, fucking scorching into yours with an unhinged look.

“You will not,” he growled.

You scoffed loudly, throwing your head back. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he said flatly. He finally let go of your waist, sitting back down heavily on his sunbed.

You remained standing over him, your hands flying up in pure frustration. “Is the concept of a man finding me attractive such a foreign concept to you?!” you whisper-shouted, your chest heaving.

He didn't respond as he kept looking at Valentin, his jaw locking into a tight, defensive line. Ofcourse he did not, and that was the exact problem. Any man who set their eyes on you would find you attractive and he could not fucking stand it.

It's because you cannot stand her, his mind echoed, but he knew something was desperately wron g with him.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Valentin was still watching the two of you from the bar, clearly reveling in the fact that he had caused a little disagreement between the stunning woman and her brute of a husband. Thor’s eyes darkened even further as he tracked Valentin's amused expression.

Your gaze followed Thor's, landing right on the smug target.

“Are you serious?” you muttered to Thor. Then, turning your head toward the bar, you deliberately forced a sweet smile and gave Valentin a little, subtle wave.

You turned back to Thor, sitting down forcefully on your own sunbed. “I will do what I have to do, Thor,” you said coldly, snatching up a glossy fashion magazine from the side table—one of the resort’s complimentary services.

“We’ll see about that,” Thor muttered back, his voice dangerous.

You didn't respond, your own jaw locking in a fury so intense you wanted to wrap your hands around his thick neck and strangle him.

So yeah, your day was going exactly the same. You had wanted to strangle him in the morning, and you wanted to strangle him right now. Not a single thing had changed, other than the fact that he was now your supposed husband.

You aggressively kept on turning the glossy pages of the magazine, but your gaze followed Valentin precisely. Between the articles, your sharp eyes roamed over every single person on the pool deck, dissecting them and their behaviors, mapping out the security hierarchy of the resort. But you got bored after a while, the heat and the tension becoming too much to sit through. Deciding you needed a distraction, you stood up from your sunbed to go into the pool.

The moment you stood, Thor’s intense gaze focused directly in on your stomach. The air left his lungs. There, cutting across your midriff, were the exact same faint, jagged scars. His blood ran entirely cold. Just how many of those did you have hidden across your body? He felt his stomach churn painfully, his hands going completely cold despite the blistering sun. But just as he watched you walk down the shallow steps into the water, he fucking saw Valentin look at you again.

Just why did this guy not give up?

Thor felt something violent biting at him inside—something so utterly convincing and overwhelming that his face hardened into stone. He got up immediately, his towering frame casting a shadow over the lounge chairs as he followed you straight into the water.

You were already in the pool, the cold water instantly relieving your burning skin. You swam smoothly toward the far edge, propping your elbows up on the smooth marble so you could lay your head on your hands and finally relax.

Just as you were settling in, a calm expression finally washing over your face, the entire pool rattled with the force of someone jumping in.

You whipped your head around, your eyes wide with irritation. Thor emerged from underwater a split second later, a smug, breathless smile on his face as he broke the surface just inches away from you.

“Can I not relax in peace now?” you snapped between your teeth.

But the remaining words were brutally taken right out of your lungs. Before you could slide away, Thor wrapped his massive hands securely around the back of your bare thighs, effortlessly lifting your body up in the water. The sudden momentum left you with no choice but to instinctively circle your legs around his broad waist to keep from slipping.

“What are you doing?” you whispered into his ear, completely breathless. Despite the panic racing through your veins, you forced a bright, blinding honeymoon smile for the sake of the couples swimming near you, whose bewildered, intrigued expressions were already focused entirely on the two of you.

“I am enjoying the cold water with my wife,” he murmured back. His warm breath fanned heavily over the sensitive skin of your neck as he intentionally cornered you, crowding your front while your back was pressed against the marble edge of the pool you had been relaxing on seconds ago.

Your hands instinctively found his neck, your fingers gripping his shoulders while your thumbs lightly played with the short hairs at the nape of his neck. You looked at him, your lips dangling a mere inch away from his. You could feel his steady breath fanning over your mouth, making your lips tingle with soul-burning want.

Why the hell were your lips tingling with want? Oh, god. Your face burned with a furious, internal heat as your eyes helplessly locked onto his mouth. Both of your chests heaved, brushing against one another in the water.

“I am not your real wife, Thor,” you breathed out, trying desperately to ground yourself. “I don’t need you touching me every five seconds—”

“I don’t need anyone here thinking you are available.”

“What?” you whispered, your heart giving a massive flutter against your ribs.

“Fake or not, Little Flame,” he growled softly, his blue eyes turning incredibly dark as his grip on your thighs tightened. “I am your fucking husband, and every man on this island will know it. I will make sure of it.”

He smirked, and before you could even process his words, he leaned in and pressed a firm, lingering kiss directly to your flushed cheek. You gasped in absolute shock, your skin scorching where his lips met your face. As he pulled back just a fraction, your noses brushed. You looked directly into his eyes, feeling yourself grow hotter and hotter and hotter—

“My honorary guests! You made it!”

A booming, boisterous voice suddenly erupted from above you. You both snapped your heads up, startled out of the suffocating bubble, and saw Alejandro Moretti himself standing on the pool deck. He was smiling down at the two of you, his arms spread wide in a grand, welcoming gesture.

You aggressively cleared your throat, your training forcing you to seamlessly recover. “Hello, Mr. Moretti. It's a pleasure to meet you,” you said, forcing a dazzling smile as you introduced yourself and extended a wet hand up toward the him.

He immediately took it, bowing his head slightly. “It is my absolute pleasure,” he said warmly. “You are the wife of the mighty Thor, after all!” He chuckled loudly, before turning his glowing gaze entirely back to Thor. “Big fan, man. Big fan.”

Moretti extended his hand toward him, and Thor took it, a wide, proud smile immediately breaking across his face because he was being praised. God, he absolutely loved being praised, didn't he?

Moretti started talking rapidly, listing off Thor’s various accomplishments while keeping a firm, enthusiastic grip on his hand. Rolling your eyes privately, you used the distraction to unwrap your legs from Thor's waist, pulling yourself off his torso and slipping back into the water.

The moment you detached yourself, Thor's hand snapped out, tightening firmly around your wrist. He immediately tore his attention away from Moretti, looking down at you. “Where are you going, sweetheart?”

The casual nickname made your entire stomach flutter dangerously.

“Gonna go dry off, honey,” you said, matching his energy as you pulled yourself up slightly to plant a swift, fake peck on his cheek. “Just a bit cold.”

“I will come with you,” Thor insisted immediately, his cheek burninh as his eyes tracking your movement.

“Ah, newlyweds,” Moretti chuckled fondly at the display, shaking his head. “Always so full of love, am I right?”

You gave him a dry, polite chuckle and quickly swam toward the pool steps to get out. As you and Thor stepped onto the stone deck, grabbing your towels, Moretti walked right alongside you, refusing to leave Thor’s side for even a single second. It was like he wanted Thor all to himself.

How can someone not want him, though? the thought involuntarily slipped into your mind.

You froze dead in your tracks, your towel clutched tightly in your hands as your own mind echoed back to you.

No. You did not want him. Certainly not. You didn't, you couldn't—

You closed your eyes, letting out a long, defeated sigh.

You fucking wanted him. And he could never know.

—

You were getting ready, painting a sharp, precise wing of black eyeliner over your eyelid as you desperately tried to keep yourself intact.

Moretti had invited the both of you to the exclusive resort party taking place tonight. Well, you were going to go either way for the sake of the mission, but he had explicitly invited you as his honorary guests.

After the you realizedthat you actually wanted Thor, you had started to see him in an entirely different light. You had felt physically nauseous by the fact that you wanted him, wanting nothing more than to run back to the villa to self-reflect and figure out exactly where your life had gone wrong. But he had not left you alone for a single second. The moment you had said you were going to the room, he had immediately gotten up and followed you back to the room. He had looked so genuinely caring while doing it, which only made an unwelcome swarm of butterflies erupt in your stomach. And the fact that he looked so so good—

Ugh, you were doing it again.

“Are you ready, Little Flame?” came Thor’s deep voice from behind the bathroom door.

You took one good look at yourself in the mirror, your gaze traveling down from your flawless makeup to the white midi dress that hugged your curves perfectly, down to your elegant heeled sandals. You looked hot. Absolutely lethal.

You swung the bathroom door open, only to be hit dead-on with the sight of him waiting in the foyer.

His lips parted, falling slightly agape as his eyes traveled over you, taking you in. His towering, formidable frame was clad in tailored cream linen trousers and a crisp white linen shirt, finished with beige loafers.

Your heart stopped dead in your chest. Was he actively trying to kill you? He was already breathtakingly handsome on a regular day, but the fact that he was dressing like that was doing completely unspeakable things to your sanity.

Thor felt the air brutally ripped from his lungs the exact second you emerged. His blue eyes aggressively roamed over your face, your sharp eyeliner, and the way the white dress accentuated your flawless form. Now, why the hell did you have to look like this and still have the absolute audacity to hate him?

His breathing became distinctly ragged, his eyes darkening to a stormy, dangerous hue as the possessive thought of other men witnessing your beauty tonight overtook his mind. But he forced his muscles to relax as he reminded himself that this hotel was strictly full of wealthy couples. It was fine. You were anchored to him. Right?

“Let’s go, big guy,” you said, averting your gaze in absolute panic as you brushed past his broad shoulder and made your way out of the villa.

Thor’s eyebrows shot up in utter bewilderment. He stood frozen for a second before turning to follow you out onto the stone path closing the door behind him, his voice clearly dripping with a deep, rumbling amusement. “Big guy?”

Your face burned a scorching, furious hot at your own slip of the tongue. You usually never called him anything other than petty names specifically engineered to irritate him, so what the fuck was that now?

“You... are massive. And a man?” you stammered out, desperately trying to make light of the situation as you walked ahead of him, your heels clicking sharply.

“Hm,” Thor just grunted behind you. You couldn't see his face, but you could hear the triumphant smile in his voice as the two of you made your way down toward dinner.

The revelation that you were actually attracted to him was making you go completely crazy, and you were already fucking it all up. Your brain was entirely short-circuiting over how mind-numbingly handsome he looked in that white linen shirt, and calling him big guy of all things was proof that you were losing your edge. All through dinner, you were on high alert, desperately trying to hide your lingering glimpses toward his muscular arms and his stupidly handsome face, praying he wouldn't notice the sudden shift in your behavior.

Dinner itself had been an exercise in damage control. Thor had absolutely loved the food, boisterously shouting “Another!” to the waitstaff every time he finished a plate, leaving you to look at the waiters with highly apologetic eyes. You had quickly smoothed it over, telling them with a charming laugh how incredibly enthusiastic your husband was about their exquisite cuisine. Far from being offended, the staff had been completely fascinated by Thor, even asking for his signature—though the poor guys couldn't take any pictures due to the resort's strict high-society privacy policy.

Once dinner was finally over, you made your way to the actual party.

The bass from the music blasted your ears off the second you walked through the entrance. Thor’s heavy hand was firmly circled around your waist, gluing you to his side as you looked around the crowded open-air venue. You bit your lip, doing everything in your power to mask your fastened heartbeat and the slight panic tracing your expression. To maintain the doting newlyweds facade, your own arm was stretched across Thor’s broad back.

And god, how magnificent that back was. Through the thin linen of his shirt, you could feel the solid, dangerous planes of his muscles right beneath your palm. It made you wonder, in a rogue, intrusive thought, if you could paint that flawless skin red with your nails, leaving little scratches down his—

oh my god, shut up, girl, you fiercely scolded yourself in your mind, your face flashing a blistering hot.

As you walked deeper into the VIP section toward Alejandro Moretti’s table, you spotted Valentin right next to him.

The exact millisecond Valentin came into view, you could feel every single muscle in Thor’s body tense up beneath your hand. Pure instinct took over, you gave the small of his back a soft, deliberate little squeeze, a silent warning to stay grounded.

The touch made Thor instantly look down at you, his blue eyes full of an intense, sweeping emotion you couldn't quite name. Your mind raced. Why the fuck were you trying to calm him down? And why the hell was he getting so intensely tense in the first place?

“Don’t make a scene,” you whispered fiercely up to him, looking at him through your lashes as you kept your voice strictly beneath the thumping bass.

“Do not make me make a scene,” he grumbled back, his deep voice heavily unpleased as his grip on your waist tightened.

Alejandro Moretti immediately got up from his leather booth the moment he saw you approach. “Ah! Here they are!” he announced loudly, his arms thrown wide open in a grand greeting.

Thor smiled brightly, his deep, booming laugh filling your ears as he stepped forward to enthusiastically embrace the billionaire, playing the part of the larger-than-life husband a little too well. You let out a bright, airy laugh right on cue, looking up at them as you seamlessly executed the role of the loving, supportive wife.

From across the table, Valentin was staring directly at you, a confident, knowing smirk pulling at his lips.

Alejandro turned proudly to his younger brother, gesturing toward the two of you. “My guests of honor, Valentin! This is Thor, and his lovely wife.”

Valentin’s dark eyebrows furrowed in immediate confusion. “Thor?”

“Yes! The God of Thunder!” Alejandro chuckled heartily, totally oblivious to the shift in the air as he gestured for everyone to sit down.

The arrogant smirk was instantly wiped entirely off Valentin’s face. He stood frozen, likely wondering how the hell he hadn't recognized the literal Avenger at the pool bar earlier.

“Ah,” Valentin cleared his throat, cautiously extending his hand across the table, even as Thor threw absolute, unyielding daggers at him with his icy gaze. “My pleasure.”

Thor’s lips pulled into a wide, bright smile as he reached out and took Valentin’s hand. But you knew that exact smile entirely too well—it was the predatory, sharp-edged smile he regularly threw at you whenever you managed to annoy him to death in public. It was the smile of a Thor who was profoundly angry, masking his rage with a lethally graceful diplomacy.

His godlike grip must have tightened a fraction too much around Valentin’s fingers, because the smug playboy’s face instantly grimaced in pain, his knuckles turning white under the force of the god’s hand.

You tapped lightly on Thor’s elbow, giving him a subtle, pointed signal to let go before he completely pulverized the man's hand. He finally released his grip, though his blue eyes continued to burn right through Valentin, his other arm instantly wrapping tight around your waist again to pull you back into his orbit.

You went to sit down in the plush leather booth, but Thor deliberately shuffled his massive frame, placing himself directly between you and Valentin to completely block the playboy's line of sight. You rolled your eyes privately. He was obviously being this intensely possessive because the entire resort had to believe you were blissfully married, but he was playing the part a little too well for your sanity.

Alejandro, ever the fanboy, was visibly disappointed by the seating arrangement—he was now sitting on your other side instead of right next to the God of Thunder—but he stopped himself from saying anything to avoid offending his royal guest.

So began the endless praises for Thor.

“I must say, King Thor, having you here at the Sanctuary is a historic honor!” Alejandro beamed, gesturing for a waiter to pour more whiskey. “The stories of your victories on Earth, the Battle of New York, the triumph over Malekith... truly spectacular! A god walking among mortals!”

Thor smiled brightly, his booming laugh easily cutting through the lounge music as his arm remained locked securely around your waist, his thumb lazily stroking your side through the fabric of your dress. “Ah, you are too kind, Alejandro! But a King must protect the realms. The battle against the Dark Elves was indeed a fierce one, requiring absolute precision and power.”

As he spoke the word precision, Thor casually leaned back, his icy gaze flicking past you to check if Valentin was looking at you. Finding Valentin’s eyes darting toward your bare shoulders, Thor’s grip on your waist tightened possessively, his jaw clenching as he seamlessly continued his story. “We had to secure ancient, dangerous technologies to ensure they never fell into the wrong hands. It takes a truly formidable force to handle such secrets.”

“Incredible,” Alejandro said, hanging on his every word. “And to manage such cosmic feats while keeping a beautiful wife by your side!”

“She is my greatest anchor,” Thor murmured, his deep voice dropping into a low tone as he turned his head to look down at you. His eyes searched your face with a burning, unreadable intensity that made your heart skip a violent beat. “No matter how chaotic the universe becomes, she is the only one who can truly command my attention.”

You gulped, your eyes helplessly searching his face, desperately trying to read the heavy gravity in his expression. But before you could decipher it, a question cut through the air—one you should have anticipated much sooner.

“So, how did you two meet?” Valentin asked, his voice smooth as he leaned forward. His dark eyes actively tried to find your frame past Thor's broad shoulders, but Thor was absolutely wiping you from his sight, shifting his weight to keep you entirely hidden.

Your blood ran cold. A sudden wave of panic rushed through you, and as you snapped your eyes to Thor, you saw the exact same flash of panic mirrored in his blue eyes. You had never rehearsed a backstory.

“I saw him—” you began hastily, just as Thor started, “We saw each other—”

Your voices mixed awkwardly over the thumping bass of the music. Alejandro looked between the two of you expectantly, his eyebrows raised.

You quickly forced a light, melodic laugh, covering the slip-up as you spoke over each other. Tilting your head up, you offered Thor a brilliant, adoring smile. “My husband should tell you about this one. He’s a real good storyteller, aren't you, darling?” You squeezed his shoulder, your fingers digging into his shirt.

Thor’s hold tightened around your waist, his thumb pressing firmly into your side. “I must let you take over this one, my dear. Your perspective is far more enchanting.”

“I insist,” you said, your voice dripping sweet as honey, though you locked eyes with him in a silent, lethal challenge. You knew pushing the spotlight onto him annoyed him to his absolute core.

“Very well,” he grumbled under his breath, leaning back into the booth. He cleared his throat, his posture shifting into something commanding. Valentin had slid over a bit to the side of the table, desperate to finally see you both, his sharp eyes intensely dissecting the two of you for any cracks in the facade.

“We met years ago, when she was first recruited to the team,” Thor began, his deep baritone rumbling through his chest. He paused, his blue eyes dropping down to look at you, the heavy lounge music suddenly fading into absolute background noise. “I saw her walk into the room. A beautiful woman. Truly, the most breathtaking creature I had ever laid my eyes upon.”

You looked up at him, fully expecting to see a detached, calculated look in his eyes—the face of a soldier executing a calculated lie. But your heart slammed against your ribs. You were shaken to your core at the raw, truthful look in his gaze. Your breath hitched, turning ragged in your chest.

He chuckled softly, the sound low and intimate, as if he had completely forgotten Alejandro and Valentin were even sitting across from them. “But she looked like she had dark, stormy clouds swarming all over her. She was so heavily guarded. So, my brain short-circuited, and I called her gloomy.”

Alejandro’s eyes widened, a grin breaking across his face. “No way!”

Your jaw clenched as the vivid memory made your blood boil all over again. Why the fuck was he telling them what actually happened?

“I know, I shouldn't have,” Thor murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. His gaze was burning into you, scorching you with a look that made your skin prickle. “But seeing her face... my mind simply stopped working. That was the only thing I could utter. And do you know what she did?” He looked over at Alejandro, a genuine, fond smile pulling at his lips. “She didn't cower. She didn't stay silent. She yelled at me. She marched right up to my face and screamed about what a massive, insufferable asshole I was.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in deep, defensive confusion. Wht was he chuckling about that? He had hated you for it.

“She was the first woman to ever yell at me like that, without a single shred of fear, without holding back an ounce of her fire,” Thor said, his voice a raspy register, thick with a devotion that felt terrifyingly real. He reached down, his large hand gently cupping the side of your face, his thumb softly tracing your cheekbone. The tender touch sent a violent jolt of electricity straight down your spine. “That’s when I realized... right there, in the middle of her fury. That’s when I realized she was the love of my life.”

You gulped, your hands clenching into tight fists against your lap. The air was brutally ripped from your lungs. You literally couldn't breathe under the sheer weight of his stare. He was looking down at you as if you were the most precious, sacred thing he had ever been allowed to hold.

“Then, I chased her for years,” Thor continued smoothly, finally tearing his gaze away from your frozen face to smile at Alejandro. “Trying to get her to agree to a single date. I brought flowers to her quarters every single day, trying to melt the ice. She finally caved in after a while... and here we are.”

Thor cleared his throat letting go of your face and adjusting his shirt as Alejandro let out a captivated sigh.

Your gaze remained completely stuck on the line of Thor's neck, your mind spinning in absolute confusion. He had sounded so entirely sincere when he described your beauty. The way he explained falling in love with your fire, it sounded like poetry.

He isn't in love with you, a harsh, grounding voice violently intervened in your mind. He is lying through his teeth to save the mission. He made it all up. You desperately tried to pull yourself together, reciting the mantra over and over: He hates you. He has hated you for years.

But as you sat there, enveloped in the heat of his massive body, a sharp ache bloomed deep in your chest at the reminder of his hatred.

Why did your chest ache at his hatred towards you? And why did it hurt so bad?

“That is just beautiful,” Alejandro breathed, raising his glass in a toast. “A match made in the heavens, truly.”

You swallowed the thick lump in your throat, forcefully shaking the daze out of your head. Forcing your muscles to relax, you put on a flawless, dazzling smile for show, leaning deeper into your fake husband's side while your heart shattered quietly into a million pieces.

The subject changed then, Alejandro and Thor talking about other things while Thor gave you occasional little pecks on your cheek, his lips lingering just enough to keep your heart beating frantically in your mouth.

“Why haven't you two kissed?” Valentin asked suddenly, his voice sharply cutting through the conversation of the two men. His dark eyes roamed all over your face, calculating and deeply skeptical.

What?

Thor turned toward him immediately, his posture shifting into something lethal. “What do you mean, mortal? I’ve been doing nothing but kiss her since we sat down.” His blue eyes narrowed into dangerous slits at Valentin.

“You keep kissing her on her cheeks. Why not on the lips?” Valentin pushed, his gaze sharp and dissecting.

Thor’s gaze darkened to absolute midnight. “It is not your place to ask such questions.”

The playboy had been watching you far too closely; you should’ve seen this one coming. Valentin leaned back, a smug, accusatory grin slowly returning to his face. “You’re acting like you’re pretending—”

Your heart stopped dead in your chest.

“Do not speak one more word, mortal,” Thor spoke, his deep voice dropping an octave as he raised a single, threatening finger.

Alejandro’s expression changed instantly. He looked at his brother with sudden seriousness, his tone sharp. “Leave our guests alone, Val.” But then, Alejandro’s eyes dropped down to the floor for a split second, as if he were mentally calculating something. He turned back toward you, his brow furrowing. “But... he is right. Why haven't you kissed her?”

Your heart started beating faster and faster, a wave of ice-cold panic rushing to your fingertips. Your cover was about to be completely blown right here in the VIP section. Thor’s gaze darkened even further, clearly unpleased and deeply tense at being questioned. This was not good. You had to do something, and you had to do it right now.

“She is my wife—” Thor started angrily, but you smoothly interfered.

With an effortless, confident laugh, you dismissed the two brothers with a casual wave of your hand, acting as if they were nothing more than little, annoying flies. Your left hand found Thor’s massive bicep as you elegantly crossed your legs, slanting them directly over his thick thighs.

Responding to the sudden contact, Thor's arm instinctively wrapped around your back, his eyes snapping down to look at you immediately. What were you doing?

“My husband and I are very passionate,” you said, your voice dripping with a sultry, unbothered confidence as your hand trailed seductively over the broad expanse of his chest. “We try to keep the PDA to a minimum so we don't make people uncomfortable. Should we show them, honey?”

You looked completely unshakable, but inside, your heart was threatening to leap straight out of your chest. The skin of your legs burned where your thighs were glued to his.

Thor’s chest heaved tightly beneath your fingers as you looked up at him through your lashes. His heart missed a beat at the breathtaking sight of you in his lap. Fuck. You both knew exactly what had to be done right now, or the entire mission was over.

Thor’s large hand found the back of your neck, his fingers tightening securely. “Music to my fucking ears, darling,” he growled.

And then, he claimed your lips in an instant. The force of the impact took the remaining breath right out of your lungs. Your left hand instinctively grabbed the back of his neck, your fingers anchoring into his skin, while your other hand remained flat against his heaving chest. Your mouths moved in tandem, a low, helpless sigh of contentment pouring from your throat straight into the kiss. Your head tilted to the side, completely surrendering to the heat.

His right hand on your back slid downward to your waist, grabbing you with an iron, desperate tightness, as if he never intended to let you go for the rest of his immortal life. His other hand moved from the back of your neck up to your head, his thick fingers tangling aggressively through your hair, tilting your face up by giving a firm, sudden tug on your hair. You gasped into his mouth, your teeth sharply biting his lower lip in response. Thor let out a low grunt, his kisses instantly becoming more fervent, deeper, and completely unhinged. You were drowning in him.

Next to you, Alejandro and Valentin looked at each other, their faces flushing as they clearly regretted ever opening their mouths. They were visibly uncomfortable—good. They deserved to be, so they would never question a single thing about the two of you again.

He was entirely consuming you, and gods, was he liking it. He felt the soft circle of your thumb over the nape of his neck, sending a violent wave of chills straight down his spine. You tasted sweet—sweeter than any other lips he had ever tasted in his thousand years of life. Thor licked at the seam of your lips once, a non-verbal command motioning for you to open up for him. You tried to fight it for a split second, a last shred of self-preservation, but he forcefully made you part them by giving your lower lip another sharp bite and executing a firm tug on your hair.

You gasped, your chest heaving against his as he glided his tongue over yours. He was so good at this. So fucking good that you completely forgot where you were, forgot the mission, forgot anyone else existed besides him. He tugged tightly on your waist, trying to pull your body even closer into his mass, but you were already entirely glued to him, his radiating heat burning straight through your side.

Alejandro loudly cleared his throat, but you both kept on going like there was no tomorrow, still kissing him with a desperate, hidden hunger, as if you knew you would never get the chance to hold him like this ever again.

“Okay. We get it,” Valentin muttered, his voice clearly irritated and completely full of deep regret.

Thor let out a heavy grunt, finally parting his lips from yours. A thin, glistening string of saliva formed between your lips before breaking in the dim light. You looked up at him, your eyes completely dazed over, your hair beautifully messed up from his heavy hand, and your lips visibly swollen and red. He stared down at you, his own lips flushed and his pupils blown incredibly wide as his chest rose and fell in ragged breaths.

Taking a shallow breath, you slowly turned your head toward the other two men, a wicked, victorious smile pulling at your lips. “See?” you said.

You tried not to give away how much his kiss had affected you, but you knew you were a fucking mess. Your heart was threatening to leap out of your chest, your lungs heaving fast as you gulped, desperately trying to calm yourself down. How the hell did he affect you this much?

And he was still holding you, his arm wrapped incredibly tight around your waist as he kept looking down at you. His own broad chest was heaving hard as he fought a losing battle to get himself back under control.

It was just a damn kiss for the mission. He shouldn't be this completely unhinged by it. But he felt his pulse fasten more and more the longer he sat there. You had kissed him. You—the bane of his very existence, the woman who had spent years yelling at him and riling him up—had kissed him, and he had liked it. He had liked it so much that a dark, primitive part of his mind wanted nothing more than to drag you right back to his lips, to kiss you heavily until you were breathless, and to roam his hands all over your bare skin, thats all—nothing big really.

He fucking wanted you, and it was nothing big—who was he kidding? It was probably the biggest newsflash in his entire thousand-year lifetime. He wanted you so much that he felt it shaking the very foundations of his immortal soul.

I want her, his mind echoed fiercely. I want her, I want to consume her, I want to be completely consumed by her.

Thor averted his eyes toward the table, his jaw locking. Fuck. How the hell did this happen?

“Yes, we get it, damn,” Alejandro said, breaking the heavy silence with a loud laugh, holding his hands up in surrender.

Valentin, however, was a completely different story. His dark, calculating gaze was still locked dead on your face, intensely trying to decipher the lingering daze in your eyes, trying to see if there was still a crack in the armor—if he could keep on pursuing you.

You noticed his stare immediately, your eyes locking onto his. A sharp jolt of reality hit you. You were sitting in Thor's lap, your thighs crossed over his, kissed by him so thoroughly that your mind had gone entirely blank. You had completely forgotten about your objective.

The codes. You needed the damn digital decryption keys.

You had told Thor earlier that you would handle Valentin tomorrow, but after the possessive display he had just put on, he would clearly find a way to interfere if you tried to flirt with the man tomorrow. It had to be tonight. It had to happen right now under the cover of this party.

Your mind rapidly formulated a plan: you had to first find a way to get away from Thor, corner Valentin alone at the bar, seduce him, and slip a few drops of truth serum into his whiskey glass to extract the server access codes.

It was a perfect, textbook assassin execution. But as you sat there, feeling the heavy, protective weight of Thor's hand on your hip, you realized something. You didn't want to leave the comfort of Thor's embrace.

Oh, how thoroughly, hopelessly fucked you were.

You had to get it together. Bracing yourself, you tried lifting your legs off Thor’s lap, but the exact second you shifted, his iron hold on your waist tightened. His eyebrows furrowed into a hard line, and his questioning, blazing blue gaze snapped up to lock onto yours. He didn’t say a word, but the look in his eyes was loudly demanding to know exactly where the hell you thought you were going.

Why was he acting like this? Why was he looking at you as if that kiss had completely unhinged him just as much as it had affected you?

You helplessly looked into his eyes, your gaze involuntarily dropping down to his swollen lips before snapping back up to his stare. “I’m just going to the bar,” you murmured.

“I’ll come with you,” he said immediately. His deep voice carried a rough, unyielding edge, his instincts focusing entirely on one single objective: keep that vile mortal fucker as far away from you as humanly possible.

“No!—” you scrambled out, a little too desperately, before quickly forcing a soft, reassuring smile to maintain the act. “I’ll be back in a second, honey. It’s okay.”

This felt devastatingly real. He looked genuinely jealous, his possessive aura radiating off him in suffocating waves.

“She can go alone, my friend. I own this entire establishment; nothing could possibly happen to her here,” Alejandro intervened with a booming laugh, reassuring the tense god.

Taking the opening, you carefully slipped out of Thor’s tight grip and stood up. The sudden lack of his heavy hands and burning heat against your skin left you feeling instantly cold, a sudden pang of withdrawal hitting you in the chest. You stubbornly ignored it. Catching Valentin’s eye across the table, you held his gaze for a few seconds longer than any happily married woman ever should, throwing him a subtle, inviting tilt of your head before turning on your heel and making your way toward the crowded bar—finally out of Thor’s direct line of sight.

You knew Valentin would make up a pathetic excuse to follow you within minutes. Arriving at the bar, you caught the bartender’s attention. “A virgin mojito, please,” you ordered smoothly. You were a professional; you were absolutely not going to consume a single drop of alcohol while on an active extraction mission.

You waited for a few minutes, slowly sipping on your refreshing mocktail while keeping your perimeter scan active. Right on cue, a smooth, arrogant voice slithered in next to your ear.

“I take it you didn’t look at me like that back there just to have a drink all by yourself?”

Valentin slid onto the barstool right next to you, his eyes brimming with a smug, predatory confidence.

A slow, practiced smirk pulled at your lips as you gracefully turned your upper body toward him, leaning one elbow against the counter. “I don’t think I get what you mean, Valentin.”

“Don’t play innocent. It’s not a good look on you,” he murmured, his eyes boldly dropping down to the neckline of your dress before rising back to your face. “Though, I must admit... I really like this whole going-around-his-back thing. A dangerous woman gets me thrilled.”

“Hm,” you mumbled, your smile becoming as beautiful and lethal as a viper's. You leaned in a fraction closer into his personal space, letting your voice drop into a sultry, confidential whisper. “Are you just going to stand there talking, or are you gonna have a drink with me?”

Valentin’s smirk widened, completely intoxicated by the sudden green light. “I could never say no to a woman like you.” He immediately raised a hand to the bartender. “Get me a double Macallan, neat.”

As the bartender turned around to pour the amber liquor, you covertly slid your right hand into the small, hidden pocket built into the lining of your white midi dress. Your fingertips brushed against the tiny, cold glass vial containing S.H.I.E.L.D.-issued truth serum—colorless, odorless, and fast-acting.

The bartender placed the heavy crystal whiskey glass right in front of Valentin.

“You know,” you purred, deliberately reaching across Valentin's chest to grab a small bowl of nuts from the opposite side of his stool. The intentional movement forced your bare shoulder to brush heavily against his chest, completely breaking his concentration as his eyes locked onto your neck.

With a fluid, invisible grace, your thumb flicked the cap off the vial. As your arm crossed over his open whiskey glass, you seamlessly dropped three drops of the serum directly into the amber liquid.

You pulled back, placing the bowl between you with an innocent, dazzling smile. “A toast. To private tastings.”

“To private tastings,” Valentin echoed darkly, completely oblivious. He picked up the crystal glass and took a massive, confident gulp of the whiskey, swallowing the serum down in one smooth motion.

You counted the seconds in your head. Three. Two. One.

Almost instantly, Valentin’s posture relaxed a fraction too much. The sharp, predatory spark in his eyes suddenly dulled into a slight, hazy glaze, his blinking slowing down as the neural inhibitors rapidly flooded his system, forcing his vocal cords to lose all capacity for deception.

Your smirk turned razor-sharp. It was time to get to work.

“Valentin,” you whispered, leaning in so close your breath brushed his ear, masking your interrogation beneath the thumping bass of the party. “Let’s talk about your brother’s collection. Where are the digital decryption keys for the Dark Elf technology stored?”

Valentin’s jaw loosened, his voice coming out completely flat, devoid of its previous arrogant inflection. “The main encryption drive stays locked in the master server vault... sub-level two of the main villa compound. Hold on why are you asking me th—”

“And how do I bypass the biometric firewall?” you cut him off before he could think.

“The security bypass code changes every twelve hours,” Valentin droned automatically, his hand resting limply against the counter.

“Mhm, and what is it lets say... tomorrow night?” you pushed seamlessly, your eyes locked onto his dazed face.

“Tomorrow night's terminal override sequence for the vault is... Alpha-Niner-Seven-X-Ray-Delta.”

Bingo.

Your brain instantly memorized the alphanumeric sequence, a cold, triumphant rush of adrenaline flooding your veins. You had the codes for tomorrow. The entire mission could be wrapped up in less than three days, just like you wanted. You could finally leave this godforsaken resort, get away from this cover, and most importantly—get away from the dangerous, addictive pull of the God of Thunder.

Valentin pouted as he looked at you, his eyes glassy and confused under the weight of the serum. "But why are you asking me all th—"

“I have to go, dear,” you cut him off quickly, placing a hand on his bicep and giving it a soothing squeeze to keep him compliant.

But his hand snapped up, gripping your arm to keep you from pulling away. “No, you can't leave. I had plans for us tonight...”

“No plans for us today,” you cooed, lowering your voice to a soft, hypnotic purr as you playfully booped his nose. He pouted even more at the gesture. You mentally rolled your eyes, already looking back toward the crowded VIP booth to check on Thor.

“But I wanted to fuck you—“

You whipped your head back toward Valentin so fast you thought you were going to get whiplash. But before you could even react to his crude words, he was brutally cut off.

A massive hand descended from the shadows like a falling meteor, wrapping entirely around the back of Valentin’s head and fiercely slamming his face straight down onto the marble counter.

Crack.

You gasped, your eyes blowing wide. Nearby guests screamed and immediately scrambled away, completely shocked by the sudden, violent ordeal. Valentin let out a pathetic, muffled groan as a dark stream of red instantly started dripping down his nostrils, pooling on the counter.

Thor held him pinned there, his massive hand basically covering most of Valentin's skull. You were so damn sure that if he applied just a fraction more pressure, he would crush the man's head like a ripe grape.

“You do not talk to my wife like that,” Thor growled, his voice a vibrating rumble that shook the very foundation of the bar.

“Thor, stop it!” you panicked, your hands desperately finding his rigid bicep, trying to pull his arm back.

Muffled against the stone, Valentin let out a wet, dizzy chuckle, the serum making him completely reckless. “Well, god-man... your wife lured me here—“

Slam.

Thor violently cracked his head against the counter a second time.

“I told you not to make a scene, didn't I?!”you yelled at the top of your lungs over the blasting music, frantically pulling at his arm to stop him from committing murder.

Thor slowly turned his head to look down at you. His blue eyes were completely blown with an unhinged, primitive rage. “I told you not to make me make one, did I not?!” he yelled back, his booming voice completely overriding the bass of the blasting lounge music.

You involuntarily flinched at the volume and raw power of his voice. You let out a sharp, furious huff, tore your hands off his arm, and turned around to bolt.

“Where do you think you're going?!” he demanded loudly.

He finally let go of Valentin, leaving theman to groan and slump heavily against the bar as you made your way out of the party. Every single eye of the high-society couples was locked onto you, whispering in terror as you stormed past.

“Stop!” Thor yelled after you, his heavy footsteps echoing right behind you, but your steps only fastened into a dead sprint.

You practically flew down the dark, stone paths of the resort, making your way back to the secluded villa. There wasn't a single soul around out here.

“I told you to stop!” he yelled again, his massive strides easily closing the distance as he caught up to you just as you reached the front door.

“And I told you to behave!” you screamed back, throwing the door open and slamming it behind you, desperately trying to force the heavy wood to lock on his face.

But you failed miserably.

“And I told you to stay away from him!” Thor yelled, forcing the door open without a single shred of effort—it was probably like flicking away a fly for him—before he aggressively slammed it shut behind him, sealing the two of you inside the tense silence of the villa.

“Why do you care?!” you yelled, throwing your arms up in the air as you spun around to face him, your face burning hot from rage.

“Why did you defy what I told you?” he pushed, stepping heavily into your personal space, his towering chest heaving.

“Because you are my mission partner, not my superior!”you shrieked, the built-up frustration of the last few hours completely boiling over. “God! You and your insufferable superiority complex!” You yelled again, aggressively turning your back to him to get away from his presence, making a beeline toward the balcony doors.

“Do not walk away from me!” Thor roared.

In two quick strides, he crossed the room. His hand locked firmly around your wrist, his grip unyielding but careful not to break you, as he yanked you back and turned you around to face him dead-on.

You opened your mouth to say something, but all words completely left you as you noticed how your noses were inches away, your breathing fastening to a panicked, ragged rhythm as you looked up at him. His chest was heaving just like yours, the sheer mass of him completely crowding you into the balcony's door. You just gulped, your eyes helplessly finding his lips again before you forced your gaze up to meet his intense stare.

“Why are you acting like you actually care?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly, your eyes filled with deep questioning. His eyes, which were locked onto your lips, finally flicked up to look directly into your eyes. He gulped, a muscle tightening in his jaw as he flatly lied, “I don’t.” He averted his eyes immediately after.

He cared. He fucking cared so much, but he could not let you know.

You scoffed loudly at his terrible deflection. “What’s all this then? You’ve been acting so strange since we got here—” His eyes snapped right back to yours, flashing with a sudden heat. “Oh, like you haven’t!” he said, his iron grip on your wrist tightening just a bit.

“What?” you gaped, your mouth forming a perfect 'O' shape at his audacity. “The nerve of you! I have been acting completely normal!” You aggressively tried to push against his heavy chest to create some distance, but it was like trying to shove a solid brick wall; it was not working.

“Have you, though?” he challenged. His head tilted slightly to the side as he looked down at you, his towering frame completely casting you in shadow. “You’ve been trying to avoid me ever since we arrived. Mind you, we are supposed to be husband and wife here, and instead of me, you kept throwing yourself into the arms of that bastard—”

“Excuse me for acting exactly like I should while we are on a high-stakes mission—”

“Is this how you act while you are on a mission?” he fiercely cut you off. He took a heavy, deliberate step forward, crowding you so completely that you were forced to push your back straight into the balcony door, the glass cool against your skin. His expression morphed into one of deep distaste—like the mere thought of you acting exactly like this on other operations disturbed him to his very bone.

“Not at all, Thor,” you muttered, finally averting your eyes as a wave of genuine discomfort washed over your face. “But I occasionally do have to seduce men here and there. It’s not a big deal—”

His thick eyebrows furrowed deeply. Before you could turn your face away completely, his large hand came up, his fingers gently but firmly catching your chin to force you to look at him. “Not a big deal? Is someone making you seduce them? There are other ways to extract information—” he started, his deep tone initially angry but quickly softening with a rare, unexpected touch of sympathy.

You swallowed hard against the lump in your throat. “Thor, I have been trained this way. And your ways are always too loud—”

“Who the fuck trained you like this?” he growled, the symapthy instantly vanishing into a dark, protective fury. “How many times have you done this, huh?”

Your own eyebrows furrowed in a defensive shield. His entire ftame was looming over you, completely clouding your thoughts and making it hard to think straight. You reached up, removing his hand from your face. “That is absolutely none of your business—”

His entire posture changed as the anger morphed into a heavy gravity. His eyes dropped to your arms first then followed to your midriff before snapping back to your face. “Who gave you those scars?”

“What?” Your eyes widened in pure horror, the air instantly taken right out of your lungs. This cannot be happening, your voice echoed inside your mind. He could not know. You could not let him see that vulnerable, broken piece of your past. “Thor, this is ridiculous. Let me go—”

You tried pushing him away again, your chest heaving in absolute desperation to break free from his hold. But he only used his mass to pin you into the door even more, his gaze intensely determined as his hand found your jaw once again, holding you still.

He was going to find out who those fuckers were, and he was going to make them pay. He didn't fully understand why he had this overwhelming, primitive urge to protect you, but he did, and he was going to deliver on it.

“Please, Little Flame,” he murmured, his voice dropping into a desperate plea. “Are they the same people who trained you?—”

“Why do you even want to know?!” you cried out, your voice finally cracking with deep pain. Tears instantly began brewing in your eyes, blurring his handsome face. He couldn't know. If he found out, he was going to use that knowledge against you. He was going to taunt you with it during your next argument, break you with your own nightmare of a history. He was going to make sure he hurt you, just like he did every single time he managed to get a glimpse of something personal about you. He was going to break your heart completely in half and toss it away.

He was going to, because he was the only person in the universe who actually had the power to do it.

“So you can torture me more?” you whispered, your voice shaking as a single tear escaped down your cheek.

Thor’s breath got caught in his throat. A sudden, physical pain pierced his chest, wrapping around his heart so tightly that he let out a sharp huff of air. It was a pain so great, so profoundly agonizing, that it started burning through his lungs before radiating all the way out to his fingertips.

Is this truly what you thought of him?

He knew he taunted you. He knew he did everything in his being to annoy you on a daily basis. He knew he wasn't your friend, and that you both claimed to dislike each other. But he had never, in his wildest dreams, thought you could actually think him capable of causing you real, deep-rooted pain.

A fierce, protective fire burned brightly behind his blue eyes as he leaned down, his lips practically brushing your temple as he spoke.

“So that I can torture them first as they did you,” he vowed, his voice low, terrifyingly dark promise that vibrated against your skin. “And then permanently remove them from existence.”

Your angelic face twisted into a look of deep, utter confusion. What the hell was he talking about? Why on Earth would he want to do something like that for you?

Thor’s hand softened on your jaw, his thumb gently wiping away the tear on your cheek with a heartbreaking amount of tenderness. He looked down at you, his pupils blown wide with an unyielding devotion. “No... I have a better idea. I am going to tear down whatever sanctuary they think they have, drag them to the deepest pits of Hel myself, and hand-deliver a punishment that will last for eternity. No one touches you, Little Flame. Never again.”

Your heart stuttered at his words, newfound tears completely blocking your vision now at being on the receiving end of them. He sounded so profoundly sincere, so entirely full of devotion that it made your stomach flutter wildly and your heart sing with a bittersweet ecstasy.

Why was he being this protective over you? Was it just because of your mission? Has he started to actually believe the lie, to believe you were truly his wife? And why did you believe every single word he said without an ounce of your usual skepticism?

How was he making your heart soar like this? Why did he have so much power over you, over your poor, guarded heart? Why did he have to be this perfect?

Why did you love him so much?

You gasped aloud as the intrusive thought took the remaining breath away from your lungs. You loved him. You were completely, undeniably in love with him. You were in love with the man who mocked you, annoyed you, tortured you with his words. You were in love with the man you claimed to dislike for all these years.

And that realization only made you cry harder, the tears spilling over your lashes because you were entirely convinced he was never going to love you back.

“I—” you started, trying to find your voice, but a heavy, broken sob ripped through your chest instead.

Thor's face immediately fell into an expression of deep, agonizing concern. His blue eyes searched your face frantically as he wrapped his massive arms around you, pulling you securely against his broad chest.

“Please do not cry, honey,” he murmured, his deep baritone cracking in pain.

He called you honey. He called you honey in private, in the quiet safety of your shared room, while holding you as if you were made of glass. It was so sweet, so tender, so full of an unprompted meaning. What on earth had happened to the two of you? Just hours ago, you were bitterly bickering about your morning coffee, but now you were collapsed in his arms, crying simply because he wanted to protect you.

Nobody did that for you. Nobody had ever said they would protect you, because they always expected you to handle it yourself. They knew what you were capable of; they knew you were lethal.

Nobody ever thought you would need someone else to do your bidding for you.

His large hand moved to the back of your head, his thick fingers gently stroking through your hair as he spoke, his voice dropping into a raspy whisper. “Darling, are you crying because of me?” He swallowed hard, his voice cracking again. “Do you truly think I mean to harm you? Do you think so little of me?”

You sobbed, your fingers clutching desperately onto the fabric of his shirt, burying your face into his chest.

“I’m begging you, do not cry,” he gulped, his own chest heaving as he held you tighter. “It... it hurts me.”

“I had been nothing but a laboratory experiment to them,” you finally choked out, the confession tearing out of your throat.

Thor froze instantly, his entire muscular body stiffening beneath your touch.

Slowly, you tilted your head up, your chin resting against his chest. Your lashes were damp with heavy tears that still kept falling silently down your cheeks. Thor’s hand gently cupped your face, his thumb catching the moisture, his eyes entirely locked onto yours as he listened with a quiet focus.

“They didn’t see a young woman,” you whispered, your throat tightening painfully as your grip on his shirt tightened. “They only saw a lab rat. A nameless object to be broken, tested, and rebuilt. I remember the cold steel of the table. I remember begging and begging... crying until my eyes bled, but they just kept on going.”

Thor’s blue eyes darkened into a midnight so black it looked like a brewing storm. A terrifying rage formed deep within him—a rage so massive and destructive that he felt he could destroy all of humanity just to see the lingering pain disappear from your eyes.

“Who are they?” He demanded, and your eyes closed in despair.

Should you tell him? Should you let him be a part of the darkest corners of your past?

Should you trust him?

“Darling, please tell me,” he begged, his voice trembling with a restrained fury as he looked down at you. “Who did this to you?”

Your throat tightened, your pulse fluttering at his gentle words and protective tone. You sighed opening your eyes, “They were a faction I later discovered to be the vile, lingering remnants of Hydra.”

Thor saw pure red. His throat tightened to the point of suffocation at the horrific image of you at the mercy of those monsters—being tortured, crying, entirely helpless.

“I need names,” he growled softly, the air in the room turning heavy with static.

“I don’t have names—”

“I will find names.”

“I don't know if you can, Thor, it was years—”

“I will,” he cut you off, his tone leaving absolutely no room for argument. He brought his other hand to your cheek, tilting your face up just a fraction. “Keep going, honey.” His voice was incredibly gentle for you, even as the undercurrent of his rage thrummed through his veins. He could barely bear to listen to the atrocities you had survived, but he had to. You were finally opening up to him, and he would listen to you until the end of time.

You gulped, trying to steady your breathing. “At the time, they were desperate, trying to replicate the lost Super Soldier serum using volatile cosmic energy signatures they barely understood.” You let out another shaky sob, and Thor immediately rubbed your back in slow, soothing circles, offering you every ounce of comfort his massive frame could provide. “More needles inserted into my skin... more radiation pumped into my veins, all for the sake of a twisted immortality.”

You held him tighter, closing your eyes against the memories. “And once they realized what they had created, they turned me into a ghost. An assassin. They forced me—forced me to do horrific, bloody things, Thor. I hurt so many people.” You opened your eyes, looking up at him with an unbearable vulnerability. “I did horrible, horrible things.”

The tears came faster now, the weight of your past crushing you as you sobbed uncontrollably against him. “I never wanted to do any of those things... they made me, I swear they made me, and they hurt me to make me do it—”

“Shh, sweetheart,” Thor interrupted softly, his voice thick with emotion as he clutched you even tighter against his heart, burying his face into your hair, his nose nudging your scalp as he did so. “None of this is your fault. Look at me.” He pulled back just enough to cup your face with both of his massive hands, gently forcing you to look up into his striking blue eyes. “None of it is your fault.”

“I am the one who did all of it—” Your voice cut off as another wave of tears streamed down your cheeks. It was like a dam had permanently broken in your chest, and there was absolutely no stopping it now. You were crying for the stolen years, crying for the innocent lives your hands had been forced to take, crying because you felt completely stripped bare and vulnerable—but most of all, you were crying because you loved him.

“I told you it is not your fault, sweetheart,” he said, his tone turning fiercely stern, leaving no room for you to argue with him. “You were kidnapped. Tortured.” He gulped like it was a great pain to say these words, “Your whole life was altered by monsters. You were made to do all of it.” His own voice grew heavy with sadness as he looked at your tears. “You did nothing wrong. You were just trying to survive, honey.”

“I’m so glad Steve and Tony saved me,” you whispered, your throat burning. “I... I don’t know what I’d do if it wasn't for them.”

At the mention of their names, Thor felt his chest tighten with a sharp, unexpected pang. Who else on the team knew the full extent of this? Steve and Tony, definitely. Natasha? You two were close; you would have told her. Bucky? Bruce? Clint? Was he truly the only person who had been left completely in the dark?

And to think he had called you gloomy.

A heavy cloak of regret settled over his shoulders. It was all true—everything he had confessed to Alejandro and Valentin at the table. He had thought you were the most breathtakingly beautiful woman he had ever seen the moment you walked into the compound years ago. But he had fucked it all up by opening his mouth and saying you looked gloomy. Would the two of you be any different right now if he hadn't used that stupid word?

“I am sorry,” he mumbled, the unexpected words catching your attention through the haze of your crying. He looked down at you, his eyes pained. “So fucking sorry I called you gloomy. Truly sorry. Can you—” He gulped hard, his chest heaving. “Can you forgive me?”

“I...” You trailed off, staring up at him in utter disbelief. Where the hell was this coming from? The walls around your heart instantly tried to slam back up. “Do you pity me now? Is that it?” you asked, your tone shifting into something sharp and defensive.

Thor’s eyes widened in immediate panic. “No—not pity. Towards you at least, never. I pity myself.”

“What does that even mean—”

“I meant every single word I said back there at the table,” he said softly, his thumbs tenderly grazing your cheeks to wipe away the fresh tears.

Your heart gave a violent flutter against your ribs, but it felt entirely too good to be true. You couldn't let yourself fall for a beautiful lie. “Do not mock me, Thor—”

“I would never.”

Your eyebrows went straight up, your expression clearly stating the obvious. He loved mocking you. He made it his absolute daily mission to get under your skin and irritate you to death.

Thor scrunched his face up at your look, a soft, self-deprecating sigh escaping his lips. “On this matter, I mean. I would never, ever mock you on a matter such as this, Little Flame.”

You scoffed, quickly averting your eyes from the intensity of his gaze. “Now you're just being cruel, big guy—“you tried to pry yourself off him, but one of his hands holding your face descended to your waist and circled it tightly.

“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met in my thousands of years alive.”

Your eyes widened with shock as they snapped back to meet his. Your heart dropped straight to your stomach with a violent jolt of excitement—of pure happiness.

“I am?” you whispered, the words coming out small and fragile, like a secret you were almost too afraid to speak aloud. It felt entirely unbelievable.

“You are,” he said, nodding firmly as he looked down at you.

There was something profoundly pure swirling in his deep blue eyes. It was a look you dared not name, because if you did, the only thing you could possibly call it would be adoration. He looked at you as if he completely and utterly adored you.

As you stared up at him, it hit you: that look was familiar.

He had always looked at you this way. Back at the compound, during your worst arguments, across the briefing table—his pupils would blow wide, a hidden mirth would dance behind his eyes, mixed with this exact same heavy, unyielding intensity. All these years, you had defensively rewritten that look as dislike, as a god looking down on an annoying mortal. Has he always looked at you with adoration in his eyes? Or were you just desperately lying to yourself now because your own walls were crumbling?

Either way, your breath was completely knocked out of you. Panic, cold and sharp, flooded your veins. You had to get away from him. You had to protect your heart, your soul, whatever was left of your sanity. You had already bared your darkest, most painful secret to him—the one thing you had specifically kept hidden from him out of fear—and you were terrified of what else you might reveal the longer you spent wrapped up in his arms.

“I—“You panicked even more as his gaze softened with that heartbreakingly tender look. You planted your palms against his chest and pushed. “I think it would be better if you let go of me now.” Thor’s expression changed, the vulnerability vanished, his eyes darkening to a stormy, dangerous hue. He had just laid his soul bare, admitting he found you more beautiful than anything in the cosmos, and now you were demanding he let you go?

“No,” he rumbled, his grip on your waist tightening rather than loosening. “Why would I do that?”

“Because I want you to—I need you to—“

“Why would you need me to do that?” he demanded, his voice dropping dangerously. “Are you that disgusted by me?”

Before you could even process the question, his expression shifted again. The anger twisted into something entirely unhinged as the green-eyed monster clawed ruthlessly at his insides, blinding him with an irrational fury.

“So you will gladly get close to that bastard at the bar, let his filthy hands touch your skin, but you cannot bear to have me hold you?”

Your mouth parted as you looked at him with pure, unyielding disbelief. “What on earth are you on about? Why do you keep talking about him like I'm actually into him—“

“Are you?” he fiercely cut you off.

He leaned down further, his eyes agressively scanning every inch of your face, his hot breath fanning across your lips. It made your breath hitch painfully in your throat. His completely irrational, wild behavior was forcing you to consider a reality you shouldn't. Something you would have never dared to think of just moments ago. Was he jealous?

Was he actually fucking jealous?

A dangerous spark of defiance flared up inside your chest. “What if I am?” you pushed, tilting your chin up to challenge him. “You cannot be,” he said, a flash of pure, territorial anger burning hot behind his eyes. “I will not let you. You are—you—“ He stammered, his usual booming eloquence completely deserting him as his gaze furiously swept over your face, desperately trying to decipher if you actually harbored any feelings for that fucker.

You smiled daringly up at him. You knew you probably looked absolutely wicked right now, with your smudged mascara, your flushed cheeks, and that fierce, determined look in your eyes.

“Are you jealous, big guy?” you whispered.

Your hands, which had been resting on his chest, began trailing upwards to his neck seductively. You didn't even have control over your own body anymore; it was like some primal instinct had taken over and you had to do this. You had to break him. You had to get him to confess. You felt entirely insane—just seconds ago, you were panicking and trying to push him away, and now you were mindlessly feeling him up, loving the power you had over him. Fuck.

Thor felt his heartbeat fasten against his ribs. His arm around your waist constricted, pulling you so close that there wasn't a single shred of air left between your bodies, his jaw locking hard in place. He knew exactly what you were doing. You were playing with fire on purpose. He made a ‘pfft’ sound, “I am not—“ he tried, desperately attempting to lie straight to your face.

“I think you are, honey,” you purred, leaning in until your breath fanned directly over his lips, your thumb lazily circling the heated skin at the nape of his neck. Even his neck was hot, for god's sake. It was thick and masculine. He was so masculine. His eyes immediately drifted down to your lips again, his resolve crumbling. “I am not. I simply... I wish to protect you because you are my teammate—“

“Oh, so I should just go back down to the bar and find him, then?” you pushed ruthlessly. You tilted your head, feigning complete innocence with your wide, tear-bright eyes.

He huffed, utterly furious at the mere suggestion. “Absolutely not. You are not leaving this damn room without me by your side.”

Your wicked smile widened. “Why not?” you purred, your face moving a fraction closer until your lips almost brushed his jaw. “I could touch him like this...” Your hands drifted down from his neck, sliding over the heavy planes of his chest down to his massive biceps, making his muscles instantly twitch under your fingertips. “I could kiss him like I did you, just minutes ago—“

Thor couldn't take it a single second longer.

His lips slanted over yours, ruthlessly cutting your sentence and your breath off. He pulled you even closer toward him, holding you like you were his absolute lifeline, pressing you so tight against his broad, muscular frame that it felt like your bodies were becoming one. You kissed him back passionately, completely losing yourself in the intoxicating heat of it. Your hands flew up to find his rough cheeks, and you pushed yourself up on your tiptoes, pressing your lips hungrily onto his.

He bit your lower lip with a sudden, needy sharpness, then stopped. He reluctantly moved his head away just a few inches, his breathing heavy and ragged as he whispered against your mouth, “You are not to kiss anyone but me.” His thumb came up, grazing over your throbbing lower lip. “Stop it, alright?” he whispered, then pecked your lips.

“Why—“

He pecked your lips again, roughly cutting you off, and then growled the confession right into your mouth: “Because I am fucking jealous, okay honey?”

He kissed you again, and you actually smirked straight into the kiss. The absolute victory of making a literal god admit defeat made your heart soar into the stratosphere. You pulled back though your lips were still grazing his, whispering wickedly against his mouth, “What was that?”

He pecked your lips again, desperate, heavy, and completely surrendered to you. “I have been burning with jealousy since I saw him lay his filthy eyes on you. I do not know what is wrong with me, but I—” He gulped hard, his large thumb slowly gliding over your flushed cheek. “I am consumed by it.”

A breathless, giddy giggle escaped your lips then. “Okay, big guy.”

He was jealous. The King of Asgard was completely, undeniably jealous, and he had just admitted it to you in the dark of your room. Oh god, you were losing your mind—and you never wanted to find it again.

But one question prodded at your mind before he made it all disappear with a fierce kiss, why was he jealous in the first place?

But you were not in your right mind. Because Thor wasn’t kissing you like a normal kiss. He was inhaling you, and it was already lighting you on fire.

The height difference was clearly bothering him as much as it was bothering you. Feeling the strain, Thor lowered himself just a bit before sliding his hands under your thighs, effortlessly lifting you completely off the floor, making your dress ride up. Your arms immediately circled around his thick neck—the very same neck you had been dying to strangle just hours ago—and you let out a soft moan directly into his mouth as his hands slipped up from your thighs to find your ass, squeezing your cheeks tightly as he pinned you securely against his massive frame. You moaned into his mouth, not being able to help it.

A hand left your ass and wrapped around your neck, while the other moved back to your waist to securely hold you, angling your face to kiss you as deeply as he wanted. His tongue pressed over yours as he walked himself backward into the bedroom. The kiss was heated, so full of passion you felt your insides burn with it. His kisses descended to your jaw, then to your neck as he hummed in deep appreciation. What were you doing kissing Thor, of all people? What were you doing letting Thor take you to bed, of all people?

But the thought couldn't even fully form as he bit down on your neck, making you whine in pain.

“Thor—” you begged, without knowing what it was you were begging for.

— “Yes?” he rumbled against your skin as he licked the sensitive spot on your neck, then he laid you over the mattress, settling his heavy body over you. He massaged your hips as he settled himself deeply between your legs. You spread them wide to accommodate him, and felt it poking hard against your thigh.

His cock, thick and hard, was somehow bigger than you had imagined—and you hadn’t been thinking small.

“Guess we don't have to fight over who gets the bed anymore,” you quipped, your voice breathless, trying to find a defense in your usual wit.

It made him chuckle, a low vibration against your chest. “I guess not,” he whispered, then took your lips again. This kiss was softer than before, slowly dismantling you as his lips glided over yours. Then he pressed his hips heavily against your core, making you whine out loud.

“Do you feel that?” He pulled your upper lip between his teeth, smiling slightly into the heat of your face. “It’s what you do to me. Ever since we landed here, I’ve be walking around so hard I was worried you’d see it. But no.” He kissed one corner of your mouth, then the other. “You’re oblivious, aren’t you, honey?”

He found you that attractive?

You hummed, tipping your head back in complete surrender. Thor groaned, dragging his lips over a throbbing pulse point, letting his tongue flick against the sensitive skin of your throat. “You like that too,” he grunted, his breath hot in your ear. “You like being the one person that gets me going, that makes me lose it. No one else, my Little Flame.”

He held your hips again and pushed your ass forward, locking you in place so your clit was pushed tightly against the thick hardness of him through the fabric. A long moan escaped your lips, and you dropped your face into his shoulder, completely undone.

Thor grunted, rutting forward, and it was so fucking hot you couldn't think past it. The deep drawl of his voice in your ear, the impossible strength of him around you—it was intoxicating. The clothing added a desperate, heavy extra friction, his fingers digging into your hips.

“Just you,” he thrusted forward against your core, squeezing your ass tightly with his other hand. “Only you, sweetheart. So beautiful and sassy, driving me insane—“

You whimpered as Thor made a low, ragged sound, taking a deep, shaky breath against your hair. His hand then slipped into your panties, his deft fingers dragging down to tease right against the already damp drip of your pussy. His fingers started circling your clit, a thick dampness forming immediately down there under his torturously perfect touch. “Please—” you cried out, your hips bucking up instinctively against his hand, begging for him to end this perfect torture.

“Please what, honey?i Thor rasped, his touch growing heavier, more demanding as he felt your walls slick and trembling for him. “Tell me exactly what you want me to do to you”

“I want you,” you gasped out as he inserted his middle finger inside you—and fuck, even his finger was incredibly large.

“Not enough, sweetheart,” he grumbled, pressing his thumb firmly down onto your clit, making you squirm and twitch helplessly in place beneath his weight.

“What do I have to say—“

“I said tell me exactly what you want, did I not?” he rumbled, suddenly moving his finger deep inside you, rhythmically fucking you with it. You whined loudly at the overwhelming friction, your hands locking onto his massive biceps and squeezing hard enough to leave marks. “I want you to—“ you gasped, your vision blurring. “I want you to fuck me... no, I need you to fuck me. Please.”

You were completely reduced to begging him. In response, his fingers slicked deeper as he added his ring finger into your heat, stretching you beautifully, but then he stopped abruptly.

There was simply too much extra fabric from your midi dress crumpled up in his way.

Your eyebrows furrowed, the sudden loss of momentum leaving you aching and confused. “What is it?”

He didn't respond with words. Instead, his large hands slid down to your lower back, his knuckles brushing your bare skin as his fingers found the zipper of your dress.

Your blood ran completely cold in an instant. Your whole body stiffened up beneath him, every single muscle locking tight.

Your scars.

Other people, other agents, had seen them on the battlefield or during training, and you had never felt bad about it. But this was Thor. You knew he had caught a fleeting glimpse of them at the pool earlier, but he hadn't truly seen all of them. He hadn't seen the worst of them. And this was not a public pool, was it? This was intimate. This was completely private. Which meant he would have all the time in the world to analyze them with his eyes, more time to realize how broken your body really was, more time to get disgusted by them—

The heavy weight of his hand cupped your jaw, covering it completely and instantly grounding you, cutting your spiraling thoughts short. “What is it?” he asked softly, his blue eyes searching yours in the dim light. “What's wrong, Little Flame?”

You gulped hard, helplessly averting your eyes from his intense stare. “I—I don't know about this...”

“Do you want to stop?” he asked immediately, completely freezing, his hand instantly lifting away from the zipper of your dress without hesitation.

“No!” you scrambled out desperately. Your eyes snapped back to find his, and you saw deep confusion in them.

How could he not be confused? You probably looked completely insane to him right now. First you were kissing him like there was no tomorrow, then you were begging him to take you, then you were voicing a doubt, but you were still fiercely refusing to stop. You were goddamn confusing.

You closed your eyes, a wave of shame washing over you. “It's just that I...” You swallowed hard. “I don't think I should remove my dress.”

His eyebrows furrowed deeply. “But I want to feel you. I do not understand,” he said, getting more perplexed by the second.

You huffed, unable to meet his eyes. “My scars... they are not pleasant to look at, Thor.”

“You do not know what is pleasant to my eyes or not,” he countered instantly, his deep voice carrying an unyielding certainty that took you completely aback.

“But—“

“I find you attractive. I find your scars attractive. I find every single part of you breathtakingly attractive,” he said, his tone dropping into a fierce vow as his hand found the track of your zipper once again. He didn't pull it, he just waited, asking for your trust. “Please let me see you, darling,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over yours, his warm breath intoxicating. “So that I can witness your beauty. So that I can show you exactly how much I love your scars, how much I love every part of you.”

Your eyes were wide, your heart beating so fast and hard against your ribs it felt painful. Should you actually let him?

This was Thor, for god's sake. He was never the nicest person to you—

But was he not?

A sudden rush of memories flooded your brain, completely reframing the last few years. He always looked out for you on dangerous missions, shielding your blind spots. Even though he irritated you daily, he always helped you carry heavy equipment crates—though not before he smugly made you cave in and admit you couldn't do it yourself, just like he did with your suitcases. He had caught you by the waist every single time you tripped. His eyes had always, always been tracked onto you in every room. And tonight, he had called you the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his thousands of years of life, before literally threatening to crush a man's skull for disrespecting you.

So no. He had never been rude to you. He had always been good to you. He annoyed you, sure, but he was so goddamn protective and sweet to you in his own annoying and loud way, and you had somehow just noticed it. How the hell did you just notice it?

Your chest was heaving heavily as you made your final decision, the remaining walls around your heart completely collapsing.

“Okay,” you whispered, nodding your head against the pillow.

Thor smiled then—a soft, blindingly beautiful smile that made him look younger, happier. His lips easily found yours again in a deep, reassuring kiss as his hand slowly, smoothly slid the zipper all the way down, gently removing the white dress from your body and leaving nothing between you but the heat of his skin.

You were now left in your white bra and panties, his gaze burning your skin as he looked all over you. His heart soared at the sight of you, but he felt a sharp pang of pain in his chest at the scars littering your skin. They were a lot more than he thought, but gods, they only made you more attractive to him. A strong woman, with the face of an angel and the body of a goddess—you were always meant to be his undoing.

His fingers grazed a thin line along your ribs as his mind echoed fiercely, She is beautiful, and I am going to make them pay for hurting her, all of them.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you squirmed, a faint trace of your old discomfort resurfacing. Instead of drawing back, he leaned over your body, his face level with your stomach as his large hands gently grabbed your sides, anchoring you. And then, he lowered his head and kissed one of the most visible, ragged scars you had near your hip.

“You are beautiful. Truly a goddess... one fit for me,” he muttered against your skin, before kissing the mark again.

Your breath hitched, your head spinning into a daze. That specific scar was from the most lethal trauma you had ever endured. You had almost died that day; in fact, you had hoped to die that day just to escape. But your captives had found a way to keep you alive, using brutal, advanced procedures to permanently bind your altered biology together. Tears welled up in your eyes, your vision blurring for the second time that night. To see him kiss it like that—so tenderly, with so much reverence—made something warm and heavy fill your chest. It was like a fractured part of you was finally feeling whole again.

I love him, your mind screamed at you for the second time that day. Your right hand instinctively found his rough cheek, your fingers tangling in his beard as he kept kissing your scars. One left from needles being inserted into the exact same place dozens of times; one left from a failed escape attempt on a mission they sent you on, a punishment for not obeying... He was kissing every single one of them.

And while his lips hovered over the worst one near your hip again, you finally whispered, “I almost died when I got that one.”

His head immediately whipped up, his heart tightening painfully in his chest at your words. “What?” he asked, his throat closing in, his blue eyes blazing with an intense, dark focus.

“They used a plasma blade to slice me open during a combat stress-test,” you whispered, the memory making your voice shake. “They wanted to see how fast the cosmic energy in my blood would knit the flesh back together while I was conscious. I begged them to just let me bleed out.”

Thor’s hold on your sides violently tightened, his knuckles turning white and his jaw locking so hard a muscle strove in his cheek. “I am going to make them pay, Little Flame." he said his voice determined, "I am going to avenge you. They are going to feel the wrath of the God of Thunder, be sure of that. No one, and I mean no one, gets away with hurting you.”

He turned his head toward the hand holding his cheek, shifting slightly to press a deep, lingering kiss against the inside of your wrist, right over your pulsing vein, like he wanted to be sure you were alive. Like he needed reassurance of your well being after your confession. He could not bear the thought of you in pain, but death? You on the brink of death? His poor heart could not take it. “I do not know what you did to me, sweetheart, but you—” he gulped, his eyes locked on yours, “you have a hold on me that no one else ever did. That no one else ever could.”

He leaned up, his chest heaving against yours. “I cannot help it. I cannot help but be jealous, I cannot help but be protective, possessive... I just can't help it. You have completely bewitched me.”

Your breathing fastened as your heart fluttered wildly in your chest at his words. What did he mean? How was he talking like this? He couldn't love you, you knew that—you were just deeply flawed partners on a mission—but a part of your soul soared at the fact that he harbored these intense, desperate urges for you. Even if it wasn't love, he felt for you with a terrifying depth.

When his large hands moved down to remove your white bra, you reached up and caught his wrists, tsking him with a breathless smirk. “Don't you think you're being a bit unfair, big guy? It's your turn.”

Your hands found his collar, pulling his heavy frame down to your lips. You kissed him deeply, pouring all your hidden, aching feelings into it, while your shaky fingers began working on the unbuttoning of his shirt. Your hands were trembling with excitement and the weight of your feelings for him. When you finally removed your lips from his, you let out a frustrated huff, looking down at the fabric because your frantic fingers couldn't unbutton them fast enough.

Thor just chuckled, a rumbling sound against your chest. He took matters into his own hands, gripping the shirt and casually pulling it over his head with one smooth motion, tossing it blindly across the room.

“Oh fuck... you honestly are a god,” you whispered, taking him in fully. His biceps were literally the size of your head, his pecs perfectly sculpted, his abs defined and casting shadows in the dim light—he was going to be the absolute death of you.

He chuckled again, clearly enjoying your completely awestruck expression, and immediately took it to his advantage. His large hand slid behind your back, and with a single, practiced flick of his fingers, he unclasped your bra in a second.

You gasped in bewilderment, snapping your eyes up to meet his. “You sly fox,” you said, a wicked smirk returning to your lips.

He just held your bra up for a brief second like a captured banner of war, a triumphant smile lighting up his handsome face, before he tossed it away. Turning all of his massive, heavy attention back to you, his mouth immediately latched onto your right breast, his tongue swirling hot against your skin while his large hand slid down past your stomach to find your crotch.

“Ohmygod,” you gasped out in one breath.

His fingers hooked into the edge of your panties, sliding them down your hips before giving a firm, playful slap against your inner thigh. “Get your legs up for me, honey, so I can get these off,” he grunted against your skin. You quickly complied, lifting your hips and helping him slide the remaining lace down your legs until you were completely bared for him.

He let go of your nipple for a second, his large hands sliding down to grip your thighs with an iron hold, settling himself deeply between them again. He spread them wide open, his gaze dropping down to your glistening center. His tongue darted out in anticipation, his eyes dark with an intense, heavy hunger.

“You look so sweet, honey. Bet you taste as sweet as you look, don't you?” he murmured to himself, his deep baritone sending a thrill straight down your spine as he kept his gaze locked between your legs.

You whined in agonizing anticipation, your hips twitching on the mattress. “Do something—oh!”

You were cut off as his thumb pressed hard against your clit, slowly dragging all the way down your slick slit, catching your juices on his skin. He lifted his hand, looking down at his wet thumb before putting it directly between his lips, sucking the moisture off as he closed his eyes.

“Oh, yes you do taste sweet. Better than I ever imagined,” he rumbled, his voice rough. He leaned down and gave your pussy a light, playful slap, the stinging heat making you whine out loud.

“Thooor—”

He hovered back over your body, his mouth immediately returning to suckle hungrily on your right nipple. At the same time, his hand slid back between your thighs, inserting his middle finger deep inside you, quickly followed by his ring finger. His thumb began circling your clit in rhythmic patterns. Your mouth fell agape, your head tossing from side to side as you moaned and moaned, your body beautifully stretched by his incredibly large fingers.

Your hands locked onto his broad shoulders, squeezing tight, the slick friction of his touch rapidly driving you toward the edge, pulling you closer to that blissful, impending high.

“'M close,” you murmured, your eyes completely dazed. You pulled his head closer, biting down on the thick skin of his neck and suckling fiercely, making the god let out a deep, gravelly groan of pleasure.

“You’re driving me insane,” he growled against your skin, his fingers moving faster, driving deep inside your tight heat. “Come on, pretty girl, make a mess on my fingers.”

The pressure kept building and building in your lower stomach until it was entirely unbearable. “I—” you gasped, your toes curling into the sheets. “I’m gonna—”

“Come on, let it go, baby,” he commanded darkly.

And then you snapped. You came hard, whining and moaning loudly as wave after wave of intense pleasure rippled through your core, your walls clamping down violently around his fingers. Thor grunted, keeping his fingers moving through your contractions, forcing every last drop of pleasure out of you until you were breathlessly begging him to stop.

Before you could even catch your breath, Thor shifted. He reached down to his waist, lowering his trousers and boxers in a single, aggressive movement. Because he was already on his knees, the fabric simply bunched up around his knees, freeing his lower half.

Your eyes widened in absolute awe at the sight. He was big. Just as you had thought, but seeing him fully bare made him look even bigger. “Oh god,” you whispered.

Thor gave his length a slow, heavy pump of his hand, precum glistening at the tip as he smeared the moisture down his thick shaft. He looked down at you, his chest heaving.

“Do we need protection? Because I don't have any—” he asked, his voice thick with restraint. “No, we don't,” you said eagerly, you were on the pill.

Pushing yourself up onto your elbows, you looked his naked torso and heavy length over with a predatory hunger. “You’re so fucking handsome it’s annoying, do you know that?” you said, biting your lower lip.

He chuckled, a smug, low sound as he settled his weight back in between your open legs. “Why, thank you, Little Flame—”

Your hand shot out, planting firmly against his massive shoulder. “Can I ride you?” Thor stopped dead in his tracks, his chest heaving, his pupils blown wide. “What?”

“Can I ride you?” you asked again, your voice completely determined.

Taking full advantage of his momentary shock, you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist, using your core to pull him down as you deftly flipped your positions. Within a second, you were sitting squarely on top of his hard stomach. His defined abs twitched beneath you, the movement grazing directly against your freshly sensitive clit, making you take a sharp breath.

“You wanna do all the work, honey?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowing as a lazy, amused smirk tugged at his lips.

“Mhm,” you hummed, your eyes dazed and hooded as you looked down at his towering chest. He chuckled, his large hands rising to rest loosely on your hips. “Are you sure? You are well aware I possess the stamina of a god.”

You rolled your eyes at his typical Asgardian arrogance. “I am aware. Can you just stop talking and—”

“Are you getting on, or not?” he interrupted, his smirk widening as he tilted his hips up just a fraction, the warm tip of his cock brushing against your entrance.

For a split second, the temptation to be difficult returned. “I am definitely reconsidering it now,” you pouted, crossing your arms over your bare chest and throwing him a defiant look.

But Thor just snorted, rolling his eyes at your stubbornness. Before you could even blink, his hands gripped your hips with terrifying strength and he lifted you up. You didn't even get a second to think before he downwardly forced your hips straight onto his thick dick, burying himself inside you all the way to the hilt.

The air was knocked completely from your lungs. Thor was so deep in you it was pushing all the thoughts out of your brain. You gaped down at him, making weak, breathless noises as your pussy pulsed and stretched beautifully around his thickness. His fingers dug deeply into your hips, the only sign that he was struggling to hold himself back from taking over completely.

“Much as I enjoy you trying to take control,” he muttered, his large hands sliding down to massage your ass with a heavy, grounding pressure, “I'd rather keep you full of me so you stop thinking.”

He reached up slowly, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You bit your bottom lip, whining at the unbearable fullness, and he chuckled, settling his upper body fully into the pillows. Your hands found his chest, your fingers grabbing firmly onto his broad pectorals for balance. “Ride it, baby,” he ordered, his voice a low, gravelly command.

And god help you, you tried. You caught your breath after a long moment that felt like an eternity and started to roll your hips. Thor groaned, his heavy eyelids fluttering as your tight heat dragged over his length, but he deliberately didn't help you yet. His hands remained firm on your body, forcing you to use every ounce of your strength to grind down onto his dick.

Your movements accidentally pushed him right against that sensitive, gooey spot inside of you, and you faltered with a long, broken moan. You shifted, forcing his thick head right against it again, and he let out a sharp breath, though he still didn't take the reins. “Uhh—” you whined, your head spinning.

“Feels good, does it not?” he cooed, his cock throbbing heavily inside you. “Nice and big, filling up your pussy so good.”

You moaned, your hips bucking instinctively. Thor grunted, thrusting up just slightly to meet you, and you tipped your head back as a shiver ran down your spine. The friction was incredible. For a second, back arched and thighs aching, you actually managed to find a rhythm. It started slow, rolling and pushing Thor’s cock right where you wanted it.

You looked down at him, sweaty and utterly adoring beneath you. His hands wandered over your skin, his breathing ragged and his lips parted as he watched you take him.

“That's a good girl,” he muttered, his blue eyes blown wide. “There you go, My Star.” He continued, “My beautiful fucking Star, so good for me are you not?”

You keened at the praise, your pace moving faster. Your knees were growing weak from the exertion, but the desperate need inside you was so much stronger. You bounced on Thor’s dick, grabbing at his chest and gasping for air as his sheer size split you open over and over again.

Looking down at his bare chest, his defined pecs looked absolutely delicious in the dim light. You had to take a bite, didn't you? Lowering your upper body flat against his chest, you leaned down and bit down on his left breast, hard. Thor groaned loudly, his abs flexing hard beneath you. “What are you—” he gasped.

You didn't answer, simply licking over the damp mark you had just left before kissing over it mindlessly. Pushing yourself back up, your hands found their place on his heaving chest again, meeting his eyes which were burning with an unhinged desire.

But it wasn't enough. You didn't possess the extra stamina or strength of a god, and he was just too big. You were so overwhelmed by pleasure that your body was starting to forget how to move properly. Every wet, obscene sound echoing in the room made you glance down at where he was disappearing inside of you—the way your slick was heavily coating his cock when you pulled up, and the heavy weight of his balls slapping against your ass every time you dropped back down.

You only got hornier, wanting nothing more than to just let go and allow your eyes to cross and toes to curl, but you couldn't find the pace to get over the edge. You couldn't cum. The frustration built up until pathetic, fat tears started streaming down your cheeks.

”Aw, baby, why are you crying?” Thor murmured, his voice laced with a gentle mockery. Fully aware of the fact that you couldn't reach the finish line by yourself, he reached up, brushing your tears away with his thumb while a tiny, knowing smirk played on his lips.

You let out a frustrated sob, shaking violently above him as your legs finally grew too weak to sustain the weight. You collapsed forward, just squirming uselessly against his lap now, blinking through wet lashes at his teasing, lazy smile. “You can't get there all alone, can you?” he purred, gripping your waist tightly and slamming his hips up into you.

You made a choked, high-pitched sound as the sudden force rattled your entire frame. “That's right, pretty girl. Just a total mess on my cock."

“Ple—please—“ you blubbered, completely spent, your upper body collapsing weakly over Thor’s broad chest. “God, Thor—please—“

“Aw. Begging so pretty.” He leaned up and pressed a tender, lingering kiss to your wet forehead. “How could I ever say no to you, huh?”

Without another word, Thor gripped your hips and effortlessly lifted you off his cock, twisting you onto your back as he sat up. You were shoved down into the mattress, your head pressed deeply into the cushions. His massive hands locked onto your hips, dragging you down the bed toward him, completely manhandling you. His right hand moved to the inside of your left thigh, pushing it wide open to expose your dripping core to the cool air of the room.

“Such a mess,” Thor rumbled, his eyes dark as he ran the thick head of his cock between the lips of your pussy, letting it press heavily against your swollen clit before lining it right back up at your entrance.

He slid in slowly, filling you back up until your eyes rolled back in your head. Bringing his upper body over yours, his left hand found your right leg, pushing it all the way up to your chest. He was impossibly deeper at this angle, stretching you to your absolute limits.

You tried to press your hand over your mouth to muffle your pathetic, undone sounds, but Thor tutted softly. With his left hand, he firmly wrapped his fingers around your wrist and pulled your hand away, pinning it to the mattress. He bottomed out completely, a deep groan ripping from his chest as he bit your earlobe.

His hand found its way to your thigh and kept your legs pinned high next to your breasts as he began to move, his brutal, unyielding pace making you instantly see stars. Every heavy thrust sent a shockwave through your body, your hips bouncing uncontrollably against the mattress.

Thor moved his head back just a little, looking down at where your bodies joined, and grunted in deep, possessive approval. He caught your jaw in his hand, his fingers anchoring you as he fucked you hard. “Want to see how good we fit, pretty girl?”

You couldn't even catch a goddamn breath, but you nodded frantically. He let go of your jaw, sliding his hand to the back of your head and gently forcing you to look down at your own lap.

It was sinful. So fucking sinful. A white, creamy ring was forming around his shaft as he ruthlessly fucked into you, and he was so goddamn right—you fit together like perfect puzzle pieces. With every single downward stroke, his heavy pelvis hit directly against your engorged, sensitive clit.

You moaned loudly, your eyebrows knitting together in pure pleasure as the visual pushed you right over the edge unexpectedly. You screamed his name as he let go of your head, his thumb brushing over your trembling lips. He didn't stop, keeping up the relentless, pounding pace, grunting your name over and over against your neck.

“Came after just a few seconds of me fucking you?” he mocked breathlessly, but he was in no better shape than you were. He looked completely disheveled, his hair wild, his jaw locked in a tight line of restraint.

He pushed his damp thumb directly into your mouth, and you blindly suckled on it, wrapping your tongue around his skin.

“Fuck,” he grunted, his blue eyes blowing wide as he finally lost his grip on his godly stamina. His hips gave one last, deep, trembling shove, pinning you flat to the bed as he came, throwing thick, hot ropes of cum deep inside you, filling you to the absolute brim. —

“Are you okay?” he whispered, his lips brushing tenderly against your knuckles.

You were having a near-impossible time keeping your eyes open, the aftershocks of the last hour leaving your limbs feeling like heavy lead, but you managed to nod lazily and offer him a soft, sleepy smile.

Thor took your hand, bringing it up to rest against his bare chest. You frowned, your brow furrowing in confusion. “What’re you doin’?” you mumbled, your exhaustion making your words barely intelligible, slurring together into a sleepy hum.

“Have to take care of you, baby,” he said, his voice so gentle it made your heart ache. He didn't wait for an answer, simply scooping you up into his arms, bridal style. Your arms instinctively circled around his thick neck, and you rested your heavy head against his shoulder as he carried you into the bathroom.

After he helped you clean up with a patience that was entirely uncharacteristic of the man you’d known for years, he carried you back to the bed. He kissed your forehead with lingering reverence as he laid you down, then slid under the covers next to you, pulling you into his embrace until your head was pillowed firmly against his chest.

His heart was beating like a war drum against your ear, his large fingers trembling slightly as he pulled the thin, cool sheets up to tuck you in. He stared at the ceiling, lost in the terrifying shift in his own reality.

Why was he feeling like this? What had happened to the cold, arrogant dynamic you two had shared for so long? The question burned in his mind, sharp and insistent: Did you feel the same?

Unable to hold the mounting anxiety back, he mumbled, “Do you hate me?”

The question came out before he could stop it, brittle and desperate. You stiffened slightly against him, your eyes fluttering open for a brief moment. “I never hated you.”

He hummed, a low vibration in his chest. “Hm.” He shifted, his hand moving to smooth a lock of hair away from your face. “Let me phrase it like this then... do you dislike me still?”

You smiled a little bit, your face scrunching up as you looked up at him hazily, your consciousness drifting further away. You were too exhausted to put up your usual defenses, and you told him half the truth.

“Not so much.”

You leaned forward and kissed his chest without thinking, the action small and intimate, before laying your head back down. His fastened heartbeat drummed in your ears, a frantic, steady rhythm that matched your own.

Thor felt his heart give out as he finally understood what he was feeling.

He was in love with you.

He had been for years, and he was absolutely, completely doomed.

—

You woke up, breathing in deeply as you opened your eyes and stretched your arms. Your eyes widened instantly as the vivid rush of last night’s endeavors hit you.

You slept with Thor.

You quickly looked next to you, your heart ready to leap with hopeful excitement, only to see a completely empty bed. Your heart dropped straight to your stomach. A cold, suffocating weight pressed down on your chest.

Where was he? Did he regret it that much? Did he wake up, realized what he had done with someone as broken as you, and left you all alone the first thing in the morning?

Your hands and feet went completely ice-cold. Your eyes tore up, your nose burning and your throat tightening painfully with incoming tears. Regret. It was the only word screaming in your mind.

You scrambled to your feet, desperately trying to swallow down the sob threatening to break out. Moving on pure autopilot, you quickly started getting ready for breakfast, needing a mask to hide behind. Your hands shook violently as you removed the mascara stains from your cheeks and quickly applied your sunscreen. You pulled on a black strapless summer dress with vibrant pink flowers—it hugged your torso tightly before flaring out beautifully from the waist down. You placed a long-brimmed black summer hat over your hair and slid into black kitten heels. Taking a shaky, shallow breath, you made your way down to the resort’s breakfast area.

The moment you stepped into the restaurant, your blood ran cold. You did not like what you were witnessing. At all.

Thor was there, standing by the open buffet, but he wasn’t alone. There she was—the receptionist girl who had been entirely too into your so-called husband since you arrived. Her hand was resting boldly on his right bicep while he looked down at her, his head turned toward her as he smiled lightly. She was actively flirting with him, and he wasn’t pulling back. Not even after everything he had whispered to you last night. What the hell was a receptionist doing there in the first place?

A dangerous rage built inside you, jealousy brewing hot and toxic, completely melting your insides. You couldn’t help it. Even if Thor didn't want you anymore, even if last night meant nothing to him, nobody was allowed to touch him like that as long as he was playing your husband.

You made your way toward them in fast, sharp strides, the click of your kitten heels masked by the ambient chatter. You stopped directly behind the girl, your index finger tapping her shoulder with an icy firmness.

She quickly turned around, a bright, rehearsed smile on her face, but that smile instantly died the second she registered who was standing there. She was much shorter than you; from beneath the brim of your hat, you were looking down at her with pure, unyielding disdain. A wicked, lethal smile played on your lips—a look that silently screamed, 'You are going to die in ten seconds, and not even the God of Thunder can save you from your demise.'

“My love, you’re awake!” Thor boomed, his face lit up with an instant, radiant brightness the very millisecond his eyes landed on you. You flicked your gaze to him, your chest tight. What a spectacular actor, you thought bitterly.

You looked straight back at the girl. Thor’s eyebrows quickly knitted together as he registered the tension radiating from your posture. “I was just on my way to bring you breakfast—”

“Were you now?” you cut him off, your voice dangerously low, though your eyes never left the receptionist. She was already squirming and trembling under your icy glare.

“I was just—” she stammered, backing up half a step. “You were just leaving,” you cut her off ruthlessly. Then, completely unable to hold yourself back through the blinding haze of your jealousy, you coldly added, “My husband does not have a taste for servants, you know?”

Thor’s eyes widened in sheer shock. You had done the exact one thing you had warned him not to do—you had ignored manners and called her a servant.

The girl nodded frantically, her eyes wide with fear, and immediately scrambled away from Thor, nearly tripping over her own feet to escape you.

The moment she was gone, you turned away from him without giving him a second look. “Baby—” Thor started, his hand reaching out.

“Do not baby me,” you snapped, turning your head back sharply, your eyes flashing with a profound, unyielding coldness that made him freeze.

Thor’s heart dropped straight to his stomach. The sudden, icy wall you had thrown up slapper him in the face so hard he felt your finger prints on his cheek. Did you regret it? Was that what this was? Did you wake up wishing last night had never happened?

“What is going on?” he asked, his voice losing its booming confidence, an edge of panic bleeding through.

You scoffed loudly, completely ignoring his question as you moved toward the stack of plates to grab your own food. You weren't going to stand there and look pathetic. Thor quickly followed on your heels, his massive frame completely blocking out the rest of the crowded restaurant as you aggressively snatched a ceramic plate from the stack. The weight of it felt solid in your shaking fingers—a grounding contrast to the chaos roaring inside your head. He didn't care that there were other guests around; his focus was entirely locked onto you.

“Talk to me, please,” he begged again, his deep voice dropping into a whispered, desperate pitch that only you could hear. “What did I do? Why are you looking at me like that?”

You moved down the line of the open buffet, your eyes fixed forward, your jaw locked tight under the long brim of your black summer hat. You didn't even see the food.

“I look at you exactly how I should look at a partner who fails to maintain the perimeter of our cover,” you whispered coldly, your tone clipped and professional—the ultimate shield to protect your bleeding heart. “We are supposed to be happily married, Thor. Yet I walk into the dining room and find you letting the resort staff treat your bicep like a resting post. It’s sloppy. It risks the mission.”

“The mission?” Thor repeated, and you heard the sharp, pained intake of his breath. He stepped in front of you, completely cutting off your path to the pastry section, forcing you to stop. When you tried to look past him, he leaned down into your line of sight, his blue eyes wide and panicked. “You think I care about the cover right now? Honey, look at me.”

The nickname was a mocking echo of the tenderness from last night. Your eyes snapped up to his, flashing with a dangerous, icy heat. “Do not call me that.”

He felt entirely hopeless, his blue eyes burning with a raw, suffocating pain the more you talked. “Last night—“

“Let's not bring up last night. Ever,” you said, sharply turning your head away from him. You were desperate to protect your heart, to pull the shields up before he could break you completely by saying how much he regretted it.

“What?” he asked, his voice entirely breathless. His lungs felt as though they were constricting in on themselves, a pain burning him from the inside out.

But you didn't answer., you just kept walking, your hands trembling so hard that the ceramic plate in your hands shaked in your grasp. You tried to swallow the thick lump of emotion stuck in your throat, but it wouldn't budge. You loved him, and he regretted you. That was the only reality your brain could process.

You had effectively carved his heart out of his chest and stepped on it with the sharp heel of your shoes, leaving his poor heart to bleed out on the cold floor while you kept thumping it with your foot over and over again. Thor’s head was thumping, his chest feeling completely hollow as he stood frozen, looking at your retreating back. To him, the message was loud and clear: you regretted everything you had given him, while he was deeply, hopelessly in love with you.

The rest of the breakfast passed by in a torturously. You didn't speak a single word to him, and he didn't dare speak to you, far too heartbroken to even think of where to begin mending the fracture. You both just sat there at the table in a heavy, complete silence. Thor spent the entire time staring down at his large, empty hands, while you kept your eyes rigidly fixed on your plate.

After breakfast, you returned to the villa to change for the pool, pulling on a black bikini and a sheer black beach dress. You kept the long-brimmed hat firmly on your head, using it as a barrier to keep yourself from looking at him, and to keep him from looking at you to see your pained expression.

Once down at the resort pool, you settled onto your sunbed for a second before immediately scrambling away to the water, needing to escape his suffocating proximity. Your body tensed up at the first splash, but slowly relaxed as your skin got used to the cold.

It's okay, your mind echoed in a desperate chant, trying to soothe your aching heart. You already got the codes. You can get this entire mission over with tonight, and then you won't ever have to sleep in the same room with him again.

From his sunbed, Thor was watching you like a hawk. He lay there with his massive arms crossed behind his head, his jaw locked so tight the muscles in his cheek flexed repeatedly. His hands were formed into rigid fists, the static electricity in his veins making the air around his chair turn faintly heavy.

Then, the tense silence was abruptly interrupted by a woman's voice coming from next to him. “Hello there, handsome.” She was sitting on a sunbed just one row away, looking to be in her late forties with short, styled blonde hair and a sly, predatory smirk on her face.

Thor didn't even turn his torso. He just spared a brief, icy sideway glance at her before immediately snapping his eyes back to the water, tracking your swimming. “Why are you all alone?” she purred, leaning forward to get his attention. “Your spouse left you to fend for yourself like mine did?” Thor finally turned his head fully away from the pool for a brief second. “I am completely fine. Thank you for your concerns, lady,” he grumbled clearly irritated, his baritone rough and entirely uninviting.

He dismissed her instantly, turning back to look toward the deep end of the pool—only to find you staring straight back at him with a lethal, blinding fire burning hot in your eyes.

He gulped, his breath taken away.

—

After your day in the pool ended and you were back in your villa, the silence between you had grown so heavier. You finally broke it, “I am going to secure the tech tonight.” Thor's back visibly stiffened at the sound of your voice. He turned to face you slowly, his blue eyes guarded. “What do you need me to do?” he asked, his voice rough and gravelly.

You gulped, forcing your professional mask back into place. “Distract Alejandro in the VIP section while I slip away. I'll pretend to go to the bathroom, access the private vault down the hall, and once I have the drive, I'll signal you through the comms so we can leave.” He nodded briefly, his jaw flexing. “Okay,” he whispered.

The process of getting ready was done in a tense, rhythmic quiet. Thor threw on a black linen shirt and charcoal linen pants, looking effortlessly devastating. You opted for a flowy, lightweight black dress that gave you maximum mobility, pairing it with flat, elegant leather sandals—you needed to be comfortable and silent on your feet tonight.

You headed down to dinner, the atmosphere of the resort's high-end restaurant buzzing around you while you sat like ghosts. You tried to eat whatever your stomach would allow, but you had absolutely no appetite after the events of the day. Every time your eyes accidentally met his, you both looked away, shielding your wounds. Once dinner was cleared, it was time. You made your way toward the exclusive VIP lounge, immediately spotting Alejandro lounging in a velvet booth surrounded by bodyguards. You and Thor exchanged a quick, imperceptible glance, checked the small clicks of your earpieces, and nodded.

Alejandro boomed with laughter the moment he saw you approach. “My friends! Welcome, welcome!” he cried, throwing his arms wide open in his usual boisterous display.

You both forced tight, practiced smiles onto your faces. Thor stepped forward, giving the man a brief, friendly hug before turning toward the booth to sit down. Before you could even slide onto the leather cushion next to him, Thor’s large hand securely gripped your waist. Your heart instantly went completely haywire as he effortlessly lifted you and pulled you right down onto his lap.

You two had been distant all day. He had to hold you. He needed to make amends, to feel the heat of your skin against his, even if it was just under the guise of the mission. At least, that was the only excuse his desperate mind could construct if you angrly yelled at him about it later.

You smiled tightly for Alejandro's benefit, but your fingers dug with an icy, warning firmness into the back of Thor's thick neck—a silent, furious message for him to let go. But Thor didn't care. He didn't care about the silent threat as long as he got to hold you in his arms for just a second longer before this mission ended and you went back to the compound to avoid him forever. He simply tightened his grip, pulling you flush against his chest, and smiled widely at Alejandro.

Alejandro chuckled deeply at the display of affection. “Always passionate, I see.”

You turned a sickly sweet smile toward the arms dealer, leaning into the cover. “Always,” you cooed, before casually looking around the lounge. “Where is Valentin tonight?” You instantly felt Thor's fingers dig sharply into your waist, his grip turning possessive at the mention of the man he had been burning with jealousy over. Alejandro made a dismissive, ‘don't care’ gesture with his hand. “Ah, he claims he is sick. Staying in his villa tonight.”

“Oh, poor guy,” you purred, feigning deep sympathy. “I hope he gets better soon.” Thor’s fingers dug even deeper into your hip bone, a silent, growling protest that you had to actively ignore.

You endured another twenty minutes of Alejandro’s endless boasting, monitoring the guard rotation out of the corner of your eye. Finally, the hallway leading to the back offices cleared. You lightly tapped Thor’s broad shoulder, signaling him that it was time. "I need to go to the restroom, honey," you said loudly enough for the table to hear, sliding off his lap.

He didn't protest, maintaining his role, but his blue eyes burned holes straight through your frame as you walked away. The moment you turned the corner out of the lounge's line of sight, the sweet smile vanished from your face. Your heart rate spiked, breathing sharpening as you slipped into the dim, restricted corridor. Using the digital master key you had covertly cloned from the resort's mainframe, you bypassed the electronic lock on Alejandro's private office in three seconds flat. The door clicked open with a faint hiss. You slipped inside, closing it silently behind you.

The room was dark, illuminated only by the ambient glow of the resort's outdoor lights filtering through the blinds. You moved like a shadow across the plush carpet, heading straight for the ornate bookshelf on the far wall. Pressing the hidden release mechanism behind a heavy brass statue, the wall ground open to reveal a reinforced titanium safe. Your fingers flew across the keypad, inputting the encryption codes you had painfully secured earlier in the week. BEEP. The safe's heavy bolts retracted. You quickly dismanntled the failsafe and looked inside the safe.

There, resting on a velvet cushion, was a glowing, intricately carved container pulsing with a faint, dark energy—the stolen Dark Elf convergence technology. Beside it lay the encrypted flash drive containing the buyers' manifests. Your breath hitched. This was it. The culmination of hours of putting up with Thor, hours of hiding your heart, hours of surviving. You carefully wrapped the artifact in a specialized containment cloth to mask its energy signature, slipping it and the drive into the secure inner pocket of your dress.

You locked the safe, closed the hidden door, and stepped back out into the hallway, your heart hammering against your ribs. Pressing your finger to your earpiece, “Package secured. Perimeter clear. Let's mo—“ you were cut off as a heavy, sweating hand clamped brutally over your mouth from behind, and the cold steel of a gun barrel pressed hard into the side of your head. Fuck.

Back in the VIP lounge, Thor’s earpiece crackled with your voice. The sound instantly soothed his aching heart, but the relief didn't last long. You were cut off mid-word, your voice muffled into a sharp static gasp. His heart dropped straight to his stomach, cold dread instantly replacing his focus. What the fuck?

He smoothly stood up, cutting Alejandro off mid-sentence with a firm, booming laugh as he patted the man's shoulder, masking the terror roaring in his veins. "It has been an absolute pleasure, Alejandro, but my wife has been feeling quite fatigued from our travels. I must take her back to our quarters," Thor said, his tone leaving absolutely no room for argument. Before Alejandro could even protest, Thor was already walking away, his long strides carrying him down the corridor. “Little Flame? What is happening?” he whispered franticallyy into his comms, his hands trembling with a mix of fear and rising fury.

You didn't respond. The silence on the other end drove him to the edge. The second he stepped into the shadow of the back hallway, out of sight of the guests, he raised his hand. With a crackle, Stormbreaker materialized into his grip, the blue sparks already dancing along the heavy blade.

“So you were here to get to this, all along?” came Valentin's sharp, bitter voice from behind you. Thor's voice crackled instantly in your ear, low and lethal. “Is it him?” Bound by the hand over your mouth, you could only press a tight, affirmative hum into the microphone.

Valentin spoke again, his grip tightening. "The only reason why you were interested in me?" He sounded entirely wrecked, like he couldn't believe his own ego had been brokenby a spy. You gulped, trying to calculate your leverage. Sensing your shift, he cautiously removed his hand from your mouth to let you speak, keeping the gun digging into your temple. “Valentin, calm dow—“ CRACK. He ruthlessly smacked the heavy side of the gun against the side of your head. The force made your head snap to the side, a low, painful grunt ripping from your throat as your vision blurred for a split second. This motherfucker.

“Did he just fucking hit you?” came Thor's roaring voice through the comms, the nger in his tone vibrating so hard it rattled your earpiece. You quickly let out another hum, trying to mask it as a groan of lingering pain so that Valentin wouldn't realize you were on an active channel. “Are you still in the same spot?” Thor demanded, his footsteps shaking the building as he sprinted toward your coordinates. This fucker had absolutely no chance. He was dying tonight.

You hummed again in confirmation, which only served to irritate Valentin further. He grabbed your chin, turning your face toward him, forcing you to look into his wild, unhinged eyes. A crazy, desperate smile spread across his face. “I think you should give me a kiss before you go,” he whispered darkly. He closed his eyes, leaning his face directly into yours. Big mistake.

The second his eyes shut, your training took over. You threw your head back, violently slamming the crown of your skull against his nose. He staggered back with a curse, and you used the momentum to drive a sharp elbow directly into his ribs, successfully hitting the gun away from your head. You spun, sweeping your leg out to take his ankles, but Valentin was fueled by pure adrenaline; he managed to catch his balance, his face twisting in fury as he lunged forward. He slammed you back against the wall, his hand locking tightly around your neck, and pointed the gun straight at your head from the front, yelling directly into your face.

But before he could even pull the trigger—before he could do anything at all—the gun in his hand was struck by a massive, flying axe. Stormbreaker sheared the weapon completely in half, embedding itself deep into the wall with a deafening thud. “I told you to stay away from her, did I not?”

And then came hell. Thor burst through the doorway, a literal storm rolling in behind him. He didn't even use his weapon. He descended on Valentin like an enraged deity, reaching out and grabbing the man by the collar of his expensive suit. “No—“ Valentin scrambled, his face draining of all color as he looked up into the face of a god.

“You hit her, and you tried to kiss her?” Thor rumbled, his voice shaking the light fixtures above. “You are in big trouble, boy.”

With a display of raw strength, Thor hoisted him completely off the floor and slammed him ruthlessly against the concrete wall. Thor's eyes completely turned into a blinding, static blue, the white-hot electricity arcing across his shoulders and down his arms. Valentin desperately pleaded for his life, gasping for air, but Thor was entirely deaf to it.

You slid down to the floor, clutching your throbbing head, watching the entire scene unfold in awe. Thor grabbed Valentin by the neck, lifting him higher, and delivered two brutal, bone-crushing punches straight to his jaw. Then, with a dark, final grunt of fury, he let the lightning loose. A massive burst of pure electricity fried Valentin instantly, dropping his lifeless body to the floor in a smoking heap. Oops.

The room went quiet, save for the faint hum of residual static. Thor immediately spun around, the terrifying god of war instantly vanishing the moment his eyes landed on you. He rushed to his knees at your side, his large hand gently but firmly holding your jaw, tilting your head up to assess the dark bruising swelling near your temple.

You tried to pull away slightly, the intensity of his focus making your chest tighten. “I'm fine,” you muttered. But your heart was beating erratically in your chest, completely overwhelmed by the unhinged protectiveness he had just shown. He had literally killed a man for putting a hand on you. He was fussing over you like you were the most precious thing in the universe. Was he really the same guy you thought regretted everything this morning?

Seeing the deep, pained expression of guilt and fear swirling in his blue eyes, you let out a soft sigh, your voice softening. “I heal fast, remember?” Thor cleared his throat, his thumb lingering against your jaw for one more second before he reluctantly nodded and let you go.

He helped you up and you both quickly slipped out of the room, heading out into the humid night air. You sprinted back to the villa, throwing your clothes into your luggage in a silent rush, before moving stealthily toward the designated extraction point in the cliffs. Once outside in the dark, Thor held Stormbreaker high into the sky, the Bifrost roaring down in a blinding beam of rainbow light, swallowing you both whole.

—

It has been two days since you came back, and you and Thor were completely ignoring each other. It was obvious to everyone else in the compound; it was the exact polar opposite of what you guys were always like. Normally, you kept riling each other up because you secretly loved it. You yelled at each other, threatened each other daily, but you were always together, attached at the hip like some dysfunctional shadow.

Now? He let you have your morning coffee without a single fuss. You let him be whenever he talked like the booming Asgardian he is, not even bothering to roll your eyes. You weren't even in the same room unless it was absolutely necessary to begin with; either you or Thor would leave the second the other walked in. It was an undeniable fact that youwere both desperately staying away from each other.

And you missed him. You missed the way he riled you up, missed the way he smiled down at you with that smug but inexplicably sweet expression on his face... you missed him so much it hurt your very soul. Natasha had quietly asked about it, Tony made a few mocking jokes, Steve only silently analyzed you two with a furrowed brow, and Scott? Well, Scott wasn't really aware of anything going on. But Rocket had literally yelled, “Why the hell are you two not fighting?!” at the both of you in the kitchen yesterday. You had only turned and left the room without a word, while Thor merely grunted, staring miserably into his mug as he sipped his coffee.

You had mandatory team training today. Eager to avoid any confrontation, you woke up at 5:00 AM just to have your coffee and breakfast completely away from him and everyone else, before retreating straight back to your room to get ready into your tight, black gear.

Thor woke up a few hours later and had his coffee as usual, but it felt entirely tasteless without the usual, fiery fight he had with you over who got to pour the first cup. Fuck, he missed you. He missed you so much he felt it aching deep in his bones, his heart, his lungs—everywhere. He hated this distance. He hated the silence.

He quickly made his way down to the training area, his intense blue eyes scanning the perimeter the second he stepped foot on the grass, instantly searching for you. And there you were near the equipment mats, talking to Steve with a quiet familiarity, just like you had been doing for the last two days. The sight of you leaning in slightly to hear what the captain was saying made rage build inside Thor's chest. The static in his veins flared, his jaw locking hard as his fists clenched at his sides.

It cannot be, his mind echoed fiercely, a desperate attempt to talk himself down. You are getting jealous over nothing. He is merely her teammate. But as he watched Steve laugh at something you said, Thor's chest hollowed out with that same burning, possessive fire that had consumed him before. He turned his head away, staring out across the vast, sun-drenched gardens of the compound, trying to force his breathing to steady. He was clearly out of his mind. He was a god, for kingdoms' sake, yet he was ready to throw down with the Captain over a simple conversation.

Meanwhile, out on the grass near the training mats, you and Steve were actually talking about the exact elephant in the room. “Tell me, doll, what happened with you two?” Steve asked, his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze shifting between you and the brooding god standing fifty yards away by the glass doors. “Nothing” you said immediately, adjusting the tracking straps on your wrists, trying to deflect. “It's obvious, you know? Don't bother lying.” Steve’s voice was gentle, but persistent.

You looked down at your combat boots, the weight of the secret pressing too heavily on your chest. Looking around to ensure no one else was in earshot, you finally whispered, “We slept together, Steve.” Steve's eyebrows furrowed in deep, pure confusion. “Okay... I know you don't exactly like the guy, but sleeping in the same bed couldn't have caused this much of a disaster—“ You snapped your head up and rolled your eyes, letting out a heavy sigh. Idiots. The whole lot of them were pure idiots. “Steve. Not like that,” you said, slapping your hand against your forehead. He had completely dismissed the actual option because his straight-laced brain simply couldn't believe it.

“What do you mean?” he asked again, completely lost.

You huffed, crossing your arms tightly. “We had sex.”

Steve’s eyes widened to the size of saucers, his arms instantly uncrossing as his brain short-circuited. “You—“ he pointed a finger at you, then pointed vaguely in Thor's direction. “Thor—“ he stammered, blubbering out in total confusion, it was very uncharacteristic of him you admit.

“Yes,” you cut him off, wanting to get the bandage ripped off. “And he regrets it, but me? I'm completely in love with him. Yay!” you said sarcastically, clapping your hands together in a mocking, bitter celebration.

Steve stood there in pure shock. You had never seen the Captain America look so entirely stunned, but then, something passed through his eyes. It was like a veil had been lifted, an entire timeline of events rewriting itself in his mind. “That's why you guys were always together,” he said, realization dawning on him. “You two are completely in love—“

“Whoa! Hold your horses,” you interrupted, your face heating up under the morning sun. “I am the one who's in love. Not him. He couldn't wait to escape the bed the next morning—“

“He is definitely in love with you—“ Steve started to counter, his voice laced with the certainty of a man who had been watching Thor pine from the sidelines for years. But whatever wisdom he was about to drop was loudly cut off by Tony’s voice echoing across the lawn through a megaphone. “We're all here, folks, let's get started! Cap, stop flirting with Shadow, goldilocks looks like he's about to blast you with lightning!” Tony yelled, gesturing toward the center of the field.

You stiffened, your eyes instinctively darting over to Thor, who was already marching onto the grass, his expression promising devastation for whoever had to spar with him today.

Your heart fastened at the sight of him, your eyes darting over his heavy frame, completely unable to control the sudden spike in your pulse. Steve grumbled something under his breath about Tony being incredibly annoying as he stood up and offered you a hand. You took his hand and got up, brushing the grass off your tight athletic pants.

Suddenly, a faint rumble of thunder vibrated through the ground. You paused, your eyebrows furrowing as you looked up at the sky, only to see bright, uninterrupted sunshine. Your eyebrows furrowed deeper. Okay... were you actually going insane?

“Did you hear that?” Steve asked quietly, looking over at you. You nodded, relieved that you weren't the only one losing your mind. But then Steve’s lips twitched into a knowing, subtle smirk. “Not in love with you, you said?” he murmured, giving you a pointed look before he turned and walked toward the center of the lawn.

You stood frozen in place for two more seconds, processing his words, before forcing your feet to move toward the rest of the team. Thor, Steve, Tony, Bruce, Scott, Nat, Clint, and even Rocket—everyone was gathered on the grass.

“Alright, listen up, children,” Tony announced, clapping his hands together. “Today we're doing partner drills. Mixed combat.” Rocket immediately hopped forward, pointing a tiny, clawed finger at you. “Pair me with Shadow! I wanna be her badass partner!”

“Why does this bunny keep yelling?” Tony muttered, rubbing his temples before looking down at the raccoon and pointing a dramatic finger across the yard. “No! Look at pointbreak over there!” He gestured toward Thor, who was standing like a dark, towering statue of menace, the grass practically singeing beneath his boots. “He's going to be her partner or we're all getting barbecued today!”

Your expression soured instantly. Okay, what the hell? Did everyone switch sides? Tony knew Thor despised you so why would he try to pair you up with him? Rocket turned his head to look at Thor, blinked at the glare the god was throwing his way, and made a startled, defensive expression. “Okay, yeah, you're right.” But then Rocket snapped his head back to Tony, baring his teeth. “I'm not a fucking bunny!”

Steve immediately interrupted, his captain instincts kicking in. “Rocket, language!” You rolled your eyes heavily. “Really, Steve?”

“Grandpa,” Tony muttered in agreement, rolling his eyes. “Alright, let's start.”

Your partner was Thor, as Tony had so graciously assigned, and standing across from you on the mats was Steve paired up with Bruce. The strategy was obvious—Bruce was meant to keep Thor occupied. The second the starting signal was given, Hulk lunged straight at Thor.

While Thor was engaged, his massive fists trading heavy blows with the green giant, he kept looking sideways at you. He was completely distracted by how easily you and Steve had slid into perfect synchronization. His blood burned hot in his veins. Focus, his mind echoed fiercely, but every time he saw Steve catch your arm to fling you into a high kick, his vision swam with red. With a roar of frustration, Thor drove a massive punch straight into the Hulk's jaw, sending the massive beast stumbling back a few heavy steps.

Meanwhile, you and Steve were moving seamlessly. You ducked low under Steve's arm, using his shoulder as leverage to drive a brutal spin-kick directly into his abdomen but he caught your foot smiling at you. You retreated yoou foot, vaulted off the ground, twisting mid-air to deliver a kick. But something that shouldn't have happened, happened. As you came down, Steve extended a hand, catching you firmly by the waist to stabilize your landing.

The moment Steve’s hands locked onto your waist, the sky changed. Thick, dark storm clouds suddenly swirled over the compound out of nowhere, completely blocking the sun in a matter of seconds. A massive, deafening rumble of thunder crashed directly overhead, accompanied by a simple, gravelly growl, “No.”

You blinked, looking over just in time to see Thor completely abandon his fight with the Hulk, turning his back on the training exercise entirely as he marched straight toward you.

“No,” he simply repeated, his face a mask of pure fury. Before you or Steve could even register what was happening, Thor reached out, his hands wrapping around your upper arms, and yanked you away from Steve, pulling you flush against his chest.

Your eyes narrowed into lethal slits, the physical contact setting your nerves on fire. “What the hell do you think you're doing?”

“I am removing you from Steve's arms,” he stated matter-of-factly, his chest heaving heavily against your back, his deep voice carrying a possessive finality.

Every single eye on the field was instantly focused on the two of you. The entire team stood frozen in pure shock—except for Steve. Steve would have been shocked too, if he hadn't just heard your confession three minutes prior.

“Thor, calm down,” Steve said evenly, raising his hands in a placating gesture.

But Thor snapped his head up, his blue eyes blazing with static electricity. “Do not talk, Steve,” he threatened, a rumble vibrating from his throat. Absolute displeasure and violence radiated off his massive frame.

“Don't,” you hissed, struggling fiercely against his iron grip, trying to wrench your arms free. “Don't you dare try to act all possessive now, when you are the one who regrets everything—“

“Regret?” Thor asked, the word cutting through his anger as he stopped, staring down at you. “Me?”

Then, to your utter fury, he let out a dark, breathless chuckle. “You are a hypocrite, Little Flame.”

Natasha took one look at the amount of tension and immediately turned to the rest of the team. “I think we should give them space.” Tony didn't even glance away, his eyes wide as he actively enjoyed the spectacle. It was like he was watching his absolute favorite primetime drama play out live. “Why? We're all outdoors. Shouldn't they be the ones to go inside for privac—“

“Tony,” Natasha said warning him.

“Okay, alright,” Tony caved, raising his hands.

He and the rest of the team quickly retreated toward the compound, but even Natasha couldn't help herself; the second they got inside, the entire lineup of Avengers pressed themselves against the glass doors, watching the drama unfold through the windows.

“What is that supposed to mean?” You countered fiercely, turning fully in his grip to face him, your chest heaving.

“You are the one who regrets everything! Flirting with Steve the second you came back—“

“Excuse me? We were not flirting!” you yelled back, chuckling in pure, broken frustration as you looked away for a split second before snapping your eyes back to his burning gaze. “We were talking, like friends do! Hold on—you don't get to question me on that, seeing as you were clearly comfortable flirting with her!”

Thor huffed, his eyebrows furrowing in genuine confusion. “Who have I flirted with?!”

“Don't play dumb now, Thor! THE RECEPTIONIST!” you screamed, the weight of the last forty-eight hours finally breaking through your defenses. Tears of hot, angry frustration built up rapidly in your eyes, blurring your vision as your voice cracked. “You left me the second the sun rose! You left the bed completely empty! And then you proceeded to go and flirt with her!”

“I was not flirting with her!” he bellowed, the desperation in his voice cracking through the thunder rolling above. “I woke up early because I wanted to surprise you,” he insisted, completely ignoring the venom dripping from your words. “You were sleeping so deeply... you looked so peaceful, and I did not want to wake you. I went down there specifically to get your favorite fruits and coffee to bring back to our quarters. That girl—she just approached me. I did not even hear a word she said, I swear it to you by the All-Father! I was only thinking of you.”

You scoffed, a broken, trembling sound. “And the smiling?” you challenged, your voice shaking despite your best efforts to keep your shields up. “You looked down at her and smiled, Thor. I saw you.”

He shook his head frantically, “I was smiling because I was happy!” he burst out, his massive chest heaving under his athletic shirt. “I was thinking about how you looked in my arms. I was thinking about what you told me before you slept. I was happy because of you, Little Flame. Not her. Never her.”

You stared up at him, your breath hitching sharply in your throat. He sounded so painfully sincere, so desperately eager to clear his name, but the cold dread of your own insecurities was still screaming in the back of your mind.

“You left the bed empty,” you whispered, your professional facade completely shattering as your voice cracked, exposing the raw, bleeding core of your heart. “You weren't there when I woke up.”

Thor froze. His eyebrows knitted together tightly as the realization of what you had been torturing yourself with finally dawned on his mind. His heart dropped straight to his stomach, a weight crushing him as he realized the terror and abandonment he had accidentally put you through.

“Oh, gods,” he breathed, his fierce, possessive expression melting into pure heartbreak. His voice cracked with emotion. “You thought I regretted it? You thought I left you?”

You looked away, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze. “You—“ You tried to speak, but a small, pathetic sniffle escaped you instead. The sound made Thor take a sharp, painful intake of breath. Moving instantly, his large hand came up, his fingers gently but firmly holding your chin to force your face back up so you had to look at him.

“I do not regret it. I could never regret it,” he said, his blue eyes swimming with a matching pain as he looked down at your tear-stained face.

You sniffled again, looking up at him through wet lashes. Your heart was beating frantically against your ribs, a spark of dangerous, beautiful hope flaring to life in your chest. Taking a breath, you asked something you never, in a million years, thought you would ever ask the arrogant god.

“Do you like me?” you whispered, your small hand coming up to hold the thick wrist of the arm holding your chin.

Thor's face immediately scrunched up into a deeply offended, dismissive expression. “Not so much.”

Your heart instantly dropped straight to your stomach, the rejection freezing your blood. “But you—“

Before you could finish the sentence, Thor reached out and grabbed your cheeks with both of his massive hands, tilting your head up as he brought his mouth down on yours. He kissed you deeply, passionately, a bruising, breathless possession that completely wiped all thoughts from your brain. When he finally pulled back just a fraction, his thumbs wiping the fresh tears from your cheeks, he continued his sentence.

“I do not like you. I am completely and utterly in love with you,” he confessed, the words hitting you right in the center of your chest.

A startled, watery laugh bubbled out of your throat. “You dumbass,” you chuckled, your hands moving to grip his forearms as a massive, radiant smile finally broke across your face. “Why would you word it like that?” Thor didn't care about his poor phrasing; his eyes were boring into yours with an intense, desperate seriousness. “Do you?” he asked, looking down at you with adoration.

“Do I what?”

“Regret it,”

“I don't,” you said, shaking your head without a single second of hesitation. “Why would I, when you are the man I am completely in love with?” you whispered, finally letting the confession pass your lips.

Thor’s blue eyes lit up like a blinding flash of lightning. A breathtaking smile split his handsome face, and without waiting another syllable, he slammed his lips back onto yours, kissing you with a ferocious, joyful hunger.

“I do not know what is wrong with me, Little Flame,” he mumbled against your lips between deep, bruising kisses. “I do not know how I did not realize sooner how pathetically in love I am with you.” His large hands slid down from your face, wrapping firmly around your waist and lifting you slightly off the grass to deepen the kiss, completely forgetting they were standing in the middle of a compound training field.

Inside the building, behind the massive glass doors, the entire lineup of Avengers was pressed flat against the window. Tony was rooted completely in place, his mouth agape, his hands raised in bewilderment. “Are you guys seeing what I am seeing, or am I hallucinating? Is Point break currently kissing Shadow?” Natasha stood next to him, a triumphant, knowing smirk spreading across her lips as she crossed her arms. “About damn time.”

Outside, Thor kept kissing you thoroughly, but suddenly, he pulled his face away by a mere inch. Your eyebrows knitted together in immediate irritation at the loss of contact. “What is it?” You asked. Thor hesitated, his jaw flexing as he muttered just one word, the lingering jealousy still clear in his tone: “Steve?”

You rolled your eyes, letting out a breathless laugh as you locked your hands behind his neck and pulled his head right back down to your lips. “Don't piss me off while I'm kissing you,” you murmured against his mouth.

Thor let out a low, vibrating hum of pure compliance against your lips. “You are right, I’m sorry, I love you,” he mumbled onto your mouth, his grip on your waist tightening as he buried his face back into yours.

—

Masterlist

Taglist: @sinceimetyou @awkwardgiraffe726 @midasgard @mediocre-introvert @gurlidkiread @claytaysversion @landocat

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORK TO BE FED INTO ANY AI BOTS. THIS INCLUDES CHARACTER.AI, JANITOR.AI, ETC. I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORKS TO BE TRANSLATED, REPOSTED, REWORKED IN ANY WAY, SHAPE OR FORM.

[sainteangel]

“you know i heard johns younger boy, he sees things.. weird things.”

sam winchester being a small town rumour

..dean version

[sacr1ficialang3l]

[dine-bugs]

being in the x reader tabs of at least 9 different characters is probably the closest I'll ever be to being a slut

[smgespn]

Not So Much

Masterlist

Pairing: Thor Odinson X Reader

Summary: He was your teammate but also the person you disliked the most in the universe. He was always loud, he thrived on impulsive decisions, and he loved annoying you. You were the opposite, you moved through shadows quietly, analyzed every move before you made them. And now? They were sending you on a mission with him. Just the two of you. As husband and wife.

Content: Fake Marriage, Enemies To Lovers, Forced Proximity, Yearning, Tension, Slow Burn, Angst, Infinity War-Endgame Thor, King Thor, Protective Thor, Jealous Thor, Possessive Thor, Jealous Reader, They Are Touching Each Other Every Chance They Get, Bickering Final Boss, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Explicit SMUT (It starts from '—', and ends with it so you can skip it if you want)

Word Count: 40k

Note: I live for annoying but sweet Thor 😭 His most dominant personality traits i swear and the way he gets angry FAST😛 My mannn fr (took me a whole month to write this, not proofread sorry for any typos or mistakes)

Minors Do Not Interact

—

You wanted to kill him.

You wanted, with every fiber of your being, to wrap your hands around his thick, infuriating neck and choke the life out of him right there on the polished marble floor of the Avengers Compound kitchen. It was a beautiful, violent fantasy that played in your mind in vivid detail—but unfortunately for you, the man was a damn god, and your fingers would probably snap before his airway even constricted.

“I said no, Thor. I got here first,” you hissed, your voice a sharp, venomous whisper as you slammed your shoulder into his side, trying to forcefully shove his massive frame away from the espresso machine.

The sleek chrome appliance sat on the counter like a holy grail, reflecting the harsh morning light. At this ungodly hour, that single machine was the only thing bonding your soul to the realm of the living. You just loved your morning coffee too much. It was the one ritual that made your life feel somewhat normal. And he, as always, was standing squarely in the way—demanding, with all the unearned arrogance of Asgardian royalty, that he be the first one to use it.

“Stop pushing me away, will you? It does nothing but tickle me, Little Flame,” he grumbled, a deep sound that came from somewhere deep in his broad chest.

He didn't even look at you, his eyes fixed on the digital screen of the machine as his large hands came down to carelessly pry your fingers off his waist. Your eyes narrowed into lethal slits, the heat rising in your cheeks at the sound of the ridiculous nickname and the casual condescension dripping from his tone.

“I have been telling you for years, Thor, stop calling me that,” you snapped, pulling your hands back and crossing them over your chest in a furious, protective stance. “And what is that supposed to mean? Are you implying that I’m weak?”

Thor finally turned his head, his short, textured blonde hair catching the lights. A lazy, incredibly punchable smirk broke across his handsome face. He held his massive, heavily muscled arm out horizontally, creating an unbreakable physical barrier that completely blocked you from reaching the coffee pods.

“Why? I think it rather suits you. Feisty little—”

Before he could finish the sentence, you slapped his forearm with a loud, resounding smack, grabbing his wrist with both hands and pulling down with all your weight, trying to rip his arm away from the machine. It was like trying to move a mountain with a piece of string.

“Weaker than me, surely,” he said, his smirk widening as he easily kept his arm locked in place against your full-body strain.

Okay, fine. He was stating a cold, unyielding fact. He was a cosmic entity. He was objectively, biologically stronger than you. Your cell structure had been locked in a permanent, un-aging loop by a rogue lab experiment, giving you endless youth and an unbreakable healing factor—not the brute strength to wrestle the God of Thunder. But you would rather walk barefoot on needles than ever admit his physical superiority to his face.

“What are you two bickering about again?”

Natasha’s exhausted, monotone voice sliced through the tension. She walked into the kitchen, holding an empty mug, her green eyes fixed on the two of you with the heavy, soul-deep weariness of a woman who was entirely done with you being at each other's throats every five minutes.

That was the true tragedy of your existence. Outside the reinforced walls of this compound, Thor was a global icon. He was the golden savior, a benevolent, charming god who was nice to every single human being he encountered. If you went to the press and told them how much he absolutely loved to torment, provoke, and annoy you on a daily basis, not a single soul on Earth would believe you. To the rest of the universe, he was a god. To you, he was a giant, golden-retriever-brained nuisance.

Your left eye literally twitched with fury as you whipped your head around to face Nat. “He’s being a child again!”

“I am only in need of my morning beverage—” Thor protested smoothly.

“I got here first!” You spun back toward him, throwing your hands up in the air, your eyes wide with erratic anger.

“And I will be drinking my coffee, first,” he replied with a smug tilt of his chin.

Before you could lunge forward to block him, his large fingers immediately darted past your face and pushed the start button. The machine whirred to life, a dark stream of espresso pouring directly into the ceramic cup you had painstakingly selected and placed there a minute ago.

Thor watched the liquid fill the mug, leaning his hip against the counter as he grabbed the handle. “See? Easy as that,” he mumbled, grinning straight into the steam as he took a slow, loud, deliberate sip right in front of your face.

Your face went a furious, burning red. Your breath hitched, your vision blurring with a wave of pure, chaotic rage. You wanted to grab that hot mug straight out of his hand and throw the boiling liquid right over his clean grey t-shirt. You wanted to watch the stain spread across his chest while you laughed in his face.

Honestly? That was a damn good idea. Your muscles coiled, your fingers twitching as you prepared to lunge at him and commit a felony.

But just as your sneakers gripped the tile, Natasha let out a sharp, interrupting sigh. “The team is waiting for you in the briefing room,” she said, turning on her heel and gesturing toward the sliding glass doors of the hallway. “Let’s go, lovebirds.”

The words cut through the kitchen like a sudden frost. You and Thor both froze instantly, the childish hostility evaporating into a stunned, icy paralysis.

“What?” you said in perfect unison. The word tore from your throats at the exact same second, your voices blending together as you both whipped your heads around to look at Natasha. But she didn't stop to explain—she simply walked down the corridor toward the war room, a wicked, knowing smirk playing on the corner of her lips as she left the two of you standing in the quiet kitchen, completely blindsided by the ominous weight of her words.

“Fucking weirdos everywhere,” you grumbled under your breath.

Before he could even swallow his next stolen sip, you forcefully jammed your palms right into the center of his chest. You used every single ounce of strength your muscles could muster up, throwing your entire body weight into the strike. You needed that damn coffee, and you would get that damn coffee.

Thor actually stumbled back a step, a booming chuckle ripping from his throat at the absolute volatility of your expression. You were completely furious. He honestly had no idea why annoying you brought him such immense satisfaction, but it did. It was an addiction at this point.

In his eyes, you were just absolutely no fun. From the very first day he met you, you had done nothing but jab at him for being too loud and obvious. You were always rolling your eyes, saying things like, “You only know how to smash things and be reckless, Thor,” and “Stealth is an actual concept, you know?”

Now, Thor didn't dislike a lot of people. He was a damn lovable person—the golden boy of the Nine Realms, and now, an absolutely attentive king. But when it came to you? He couldn't help it. You rubbed him the wrong way all the damn time, your sharp tongue grating on his nerves. He could say with absolute, unyielding certainty that he disliked you. A lot.

You were still grumbling under your breath about him stealing your favorite ceramic mug when you noticed his massive shadow was still hovering directly over you.

“Why are you still here?” you asked, your voice coming out far more irritated than it should have. You internally cursed yourself; you were giving him way too much power over your emotions.

“I simply want to watch you sip on your beverage after me,” he said, flashing you a brilliant, smug smile.

You huffed, grabbing your freshly poured cup from the machine. “Thor, just call it coffee. Calling it a beverage does not make it sound any fancier.”

You slid past his broad shoulder, taking a deliberate, aggressive sip of your drink before making your way toward the sliding glass doors of the briefing room. He immediately fell into step behind you, his massive, sweeping strides matching yours in a pure, frustrating rhythm.

“It does sound better when I call it a beverage,” he argued, his heavy leather boots thudding loudly against the floorboards as if he could make his statement more convincing by physical force.

“Sure, lord of thunder,” you murmured, a wicked, knowing smirk pulling at your lips. You knew exactly which buttons to push, and that specific title was your absolute favorite weapon.

“I am the god of thunder!” he hissed from behind you, his voice dropping into a defensive, offended rumble. “You know what? I know you are doing this on purpose—you are intentionally trying to—”

You pushed through the glass doors, entering the sleek, high-tech briefing room with the God of Thunder hot on your heels, still fiercely grumbling about the distinct theological differences between a lord and a god.

“Ah, our favorite couple, arguing again,” Tony said loudly, opening his arms wide in a dramatic, welcoming gesture from the head of the conference table. He leaned back in his chair, a classic, mischievous glint in his eyes. “Still not able to decide whether they want to kill each other or fuck—“

Before the final, crude word could even leave his mouth, your reflexes took over. Your hand blurred. You snatched a thick, heavy tactical folder from the edge of the table and launched it through the air with lethal, pinpoint precision.

Smack. The folder hit Tony squarely across the bridge of his nose, the papers scattering in a neat halo around his chair.

“Ow! Okay, there was absolutely no need for that,” Tony muttered, wincing as he gingerly adjusted his tinted glasses, though the smirk never truly left his face. He looked over at Natasha and Steve, who were already seated, completely unfazed by the morning violence.

“You talk too much, Stark,” Thor grumbled, pulling out a chair and dropping his massive frame into it with a loud thud that resonated through the room.

Your eyebrows shot up instantly as you sat down yourself. “Says you?” you retorted, gesturing toward his broad chest with your coffee mug. “You literally haven't shut up since the kitchen.”

“Let’s just focus on our objective, okay, guys?” Steve said, running a tired palm over his face, completely done with your collective energy so early in the morning. He pushed himself up from his seat next to Tony, leaning his broad shoulders over the holographic table to command the room.

Steve tapped the digital console, and the lights in the briefing room dimmed instantly, replaced by a glowing, three-dimensional blueprint of an ultra-private luxury island floating in the Mediterranean.

“Our focus is here: The Sanctuary,” Steve began, his voice dropping into his serious captain tone. “On paper, it’s an exclusive, hyper-secure resort for the world's billionaires, corrupt politicians, and elite criminals. But over the last forty-eight hours, our satellites intercepted an unencrypted dark-web signal bouncing from the island’s lower levels. A rogue faction has managed to smuggle a massive cache of volatile, leftover Dark Elf technology onto the premises. They’re hosting a private, black-market auction to sell it off to the highest bidder.”

You leaned forward, your brain instantly analyzing the island's perimeter. “So we drop in, neutralize the buyers, and secure the tech. Sounds like a standard Tuesday. Why are we all sitting here?”

“Because it’s a hostage situation waiting to happen if we go in loud,” Natasha spoke up from the corner, her fingers tapping against her tablet. “The entire island is rigged with a quantum-fission failsafe connected to the central vault. If the resort’s biometric security detects a frontal assault, a breach, or a single Quinjet on their radar, the system will instantly detonate the alien cache. It’ll vaporize the island and take half of Western Europe out with the blast wave. It requires a ghost to dismantle the failsafe from the inside.”

“A ghost?” you repeated, a slow, dark smile creeping onto your face. “Perfect. I’ll go in undercover as a maid, slip into the server room, kill the signal, and leave before anyone even finishes their champagne.”

“You’re half right,” Tony cut in, tapping his pen against his cheek. “You are going undercover. But you’re not going as a maid, Shadow. The resort has a strict, biometric-level verification system for all service staff, but their guest list is curated entirely by the billionaire owner—an eccentric, power-obsessed arms dealer named Moretti. He has a strict ‘No Media, Couples Only’ policy for his guests to protect their privacy.”

Tony smirked, leaning forward and typing a command into his console. The holographic display shifted from the island to a digital invitation, written in gold lettering, making your eyes go wide. No.

“Moretti is obsessed with power, gods, and mythology,” Tony explained, his eyes darting between you and the blonde King sitting across from you. “He doesn't just want money; he wants prestige. So, we gave him exactly what he wanted. We leaked a carefully staged, ‘top-secret’ paparazzi photo to the press this morning. The official narrative? The newly crowned King of Asgard has secretly retired from his bachelor days and eloped with a fierce, mysterious warrior woman.”

Your breath hitched violently in your throat. The coffee in your mug suddenly felt like acid.

“What?” you whispered, your heart stopping. You were an Avenger; you were known to the world, but you operated mostly in the quiet, precise darkness. To be thrust into the center of attention like this was your worst nightmare.

Thor froze, his hand stopping mid-air as he went to scratch his short blonde beard. His blue eyes went incredibly wide as he stared at the holographic invitation. “Stark—what madness are you speaking of?”

“It’s simple, lovebirds,” Natasha said, her voice laced with an infuriatingly calm amusement. “Moretti swallowed the bait hook, line, and sinker. The moment he saw the news that the King Of Asgard was on a secret honeymoon, he personally sent out an exclusive, all-access VIP invitation to the royal couple. You two are the ultimate distraction.”

Steve looked at the two of you, his expression sympathetic but unyielding. “Thor keeps all eyes on him by playing the loud, boastful, larger-than-life husband, giving you the perfect cover to move through the high-society crowds, slip into the shadows, and quietly dismantle the failsafe without triggering the biometric alarms. You need his status to get through the front door, and he needs your precision to make sure the island doesn't explode.”

“You expect me,” you said slowly, your voice dropping into a lethal, dangerous sound as you pointed a finger across the table, “to pretend to be blissfully, passionately in love with him? For how long exactly?”

“Not a soul here but you said passionately—“ Thor grumbled but was cut off by you, “Shut up, will you?”

Thor’s hands twitched, like he was holding himself from doing something irrational. He sighed a long breath, trying to compose himself, he didn’t think he could do this. Why did it have to be you, of all people?

But your skills in being a ghost were too good—too fucking perfect for your own good. So he knew the reason why it had to be you, but he protested anyway, he turned to Steve, “I do not see why she should be the one coming with me—“

You didn’t let him finish, rolling your eyes as you said “I’m not loving the idea either—“

“Depends on you, really. Could just be two days or a whole week.“ Steve said cutting both of you off as he looked at the both of you, clearly distressed at your brewing argument, again. “An entire week?” you said, your voice dripping with irritation, your jaw locking at the mere thought of it.

“Hey, it’s a tough gig, but someone’s gotta do it,” Tony chuckled, completely ignoring the murderous look you were throwing him across the table. “Congratulations, kids. Pack your bags. You’re going on a honeymoon.”

—

You were huffing and puffing as you aggressively packed your suitcases—yes, suitcases, plural.

You were practically tearing through your wardrobe, shoving in dresses, hats, sunglasses, and anything else you could get your hands on, entirely leaving the burden of actually coordinating an outfit for later. The second you had escaped the briefing room, you had fled to your quarters. The news was still pouring over you like boiling water, making your skin burn with a restless, defensive heat just thinking about it.

How the hell were you going to pretend to be his wife?

The only thing you were biologically capable of doing near that man was yelling at him, throwing files at his head, or arguing until you were blue in the face. He got on your nerves every single second of the day, provoking you with that smug arrogance of his, making you want to literally peel your own skin off your bones just to escape his proximity. And now you were supposed to look into his blue eyes and play the part of a blushing, smitten bride on a Mediterranean honeymoon. It was sick. It was a comedy of errors written by a cruel universe.

As you slammed another folded gown into the suitcase, your movements suddenly slowed. Your eyes caught sight of the faint, jagged scars marring the skin over your forearms and stomach.

A sudden, heavy wave of insecurity bubbled up inside your chest, overtaking the rage. The thought of being forced into revealing resort wear—of being paraded around an island full of hyper-critical, judgmental billionaires who you knew would dissect your every flaw—infiltrated your mind.

Usually, you were secure in your own skin. You were an Avenger, for God's sake. You were a lethal weapon, and honestly, you did wear dresses when the occasion called for it. But in this context? Under the blinding, global spotlight? You felt like a fraud. You felt like every single pair of eyes on that island would be glued to you, the judgmental, elitist sneers of high society cutting right through you simply because you were Thor’s goddamn wife. You were the woman who had supposedly tamed the King of Asgard, and they would be looking for any reason to tear you apart.

The scars were a permanent, physical gift from your torturers. The monsters who had turned you immortal years ago.

You could not die of age. You could not fall succumb to diseases. Even lethal wounds healed seamlessly within hours if properly attended to. You were stuck living like this forever, the terrifying nightmares from those months in the lab still playing in your mind night after night, making your throat go completely sore as you woke up screaming for them to stop. The experiments had broken your human limitations, locking your cellular structure in a permanent, un-aging loop.

You sharply rubbed at your eyes with the palms of your hands, trying to force the horrific memories to flee from your mind. The ghosts of your past loved to haunt you wherever you went, but you couldn't afford a breakdown today. Not with a flight to catch.

Letting out a heavy, defeated sigh, you declared yourself done with the chaotic packing. You bit your lip anxiously as you got ready for the travel day, pulling a simple, breezy white summer dress over your frame. The fabric flared gently around your knees, and you slid your feet into a pair of modest kitten heels. Finally, you pulled a soft white cardigan over your shoulders, fastening a few buttons, strictly wanting to ensure you wouldn't freeze before you reached your destination. You took one last look in the mirror, masking the assassin, masking the scars, and preparing to face your fate.

As you opened the door, struggling to maneuver your suitcases out of the room, you immediately heard his voice booming down the corridor.

“How are you going to carry those by yourself?” Thor asked, leaning against the wall with a wicked, entirely too handsome smile plastered across his face.

He was obviously going to help you. If the King of Asgard was anything, he was a gentleman down to his very bones—but he didn't just want to be helpful. He wanted to hear the words come out of your mouth. He wanted you to look him in the eye and actively admit that you needed his help. He knew you would absolutely hate doing it, which only made him crave it more.

“I can handle myself just fine,” you breathed out defensively. You leaned your weight back, using the rolling wheels of the suitcases to your advantage. Your pride was still firmly intact because you could easily drag them behind you on a flat surface, but you knew deep down that you couldn't physically lift both of these giant, overpacked cases at the same time down a flight of stairs. But he most definitely did not need to know that.

“Oh? So you don’t need any assistance at all?” he remarked smoothly. He was casually carrying his own massive tactical suitcase in one hand by the handle, his arm barely flexing. It was probably like holding a mosquito between his fingers for him.

“No. Especially not from you,” you huffed, your heels clicking sharply against the tile as you tried to wheel past him, clearly getting irritated by his mere existence.

“Hm,” he just mumbled, a deeply amused sound vibrating in his throat as he turned and watched you walk over to the elevator banks.

You aggressively pressed the down button, silently begging the universe for the doors to open as fast as humanly possible. You could feel Thor’s massive presence looming right behind you, practically radiating an eager energy, just waiting for another opportunity to prod at you.

“What are you waiting for?” you asked, your voice incredibly tight from pure annoyance.

He chuckled, the sound low and rumbling. “For the elevator, Little Flame. Same as you.”

You could feel his massive, broad frame standing directly behind your back. Even though there were a few inches of space separating you, he was like a literal furnace, a heavy, intoxicating heat radiating off his body and wrapping around your shoulders.

You rolled your eyes at the ceiling. “You can carry your own suitcase. I don't see why—” You abruptly cut yourself off, closing your eyes tightly, your face scrunching up in disdain.

Fuck. You had just walked right into his trap.

“Oh, so you cannot carry yours?” he prodded instantly, his tone dripping with sheer amusement. Your eyes opened back up immediately.

Where was this fucking elevator?!

Realizing the lift was taking too long, you sharply turned around to face him. Your bruised, stubborn ego completely hijacked your brain, making you snap at him before you could stop yourself. “I very much can!”

Thor looked down at you, his blue eyes sparkling with a level of amusement that was bordering on infuriating. “Oh, please, be my guest, will you?” He dramatically extended his free hand, gesturing toward the grand concrete staircase at the end of the hall. You huffed a sharp breath through your nose, your jaw locking. “Fine.”

You spun on your heels, deliberately dragging your heavy suitcases over to the very edge of the stairs, desperately delaying the exact moment you would actually have to lift them. When you finally reached the top step, you stopped and stared down at the luggage, your brain going into overdrive as you calculated the weight distribution.

Thor followed you, enjoying every single second of this entirely too much. Even his stance—weight shifted to one hip, a smirk playing on his lips—radiated absolute satisfaction.

“Struggling there?” he asked, taking a deliberate step closer to you.

“Not at all,” you lied through your teeth. Your eyes narrowed into lethal slits as you stared at him, and out of pure, stubborn stupidity, you grabbed the handles of both massive suitcases.

Bracing yourself in your goddamn kitten heels, you attempted to lift them both off the ground at the exact same time.

But the second your muscles tensed and you yanked them up, the combined, brutal weight of the luggage completely threw off your center of gravity. Your body violently swung forward toward the edge of the stairs, the momentum dragging you directly downward. A sharp, terrified yelp tore from your throat as your foot slipped on the smooth edge. You closed your eyes, waiting for the inevitable impact.

You were definitely going down. You were going to roll down a flight of concrete stairs in a white summer dress, become the laughing stock of the entire Avengers Compound, and probably severely injure yourself—meaning you'd have to hobble around the island waiting for your powers to slowly knit your bones back together. Amazing. Brilliant execution, babe, bravo.

But just as those thoughts raced through your mind, they disappeared entirely.

A massive, incredibly solid arm suddenly wrapped like an iron band around your waist. With one effortless, powerful pull, he caught your entire body weight, dragging you firmly back from the edge of the abyss and slamming your back flush against his broad, solid chest.

You opened your eyes—which you hadn't even realized you'd squeezed shut—and let out a shaky, breathless sigh of pure relief. Your heart was hammering like a drum against your ribs.

“Perhaps now, you will admit that you need me to carry them for you,” he mumbled. His voice was a gravelly rasp right against the back of your ear, his warm breath fanning across your skin and causing a shiver of goosebumps to erupt down your neck and arms.

Your breath caught. You quickly huffed, using your hands to pry his heavy arm away from your waist. The skin beneath your dress was practically burning from his touch, but you absolutely did not have the mental capacity to dwell on that right now.

You turned around to face him, your cheeks flushed, your expression a mixture of distress and absolute fury that you had just proven him entirely right.

“Fine,” you said, your voice tight and defeated.

Thor didn't move an inch out of your personal space. He looked down at you, his eyes slowly tracing over your flushed face and your white dress, a smug, triumphant look in his gaze.

“Fine, what?” he challenged softly, wanting every single syllable of his victory.

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, your pride fiercely battling against the cold reality of the situation. You darted a desperate look toward the elevator, but the glowing digital screen indicated it was still stuck on a lower floor. Frustrated and completely cornered, you aggressively slammed your right foot down against the tile floor like a spoiled child. He always brought that irritating, uncharacteristic side out of you.

“Okay,” you snapped, completely averting your gaze from his face as you mumbled, “Ineedyoutocarrymyluggageforme.”

The words tumbled out of your mouth in a single, rushed, completely unintelligible breath, your eyes locked onto the center of his chest.

“What?” Thor chuckled again, the hilarious sight of you stomping your foot and speaking at supersonic speed catching him entirely off guard. A deep, rumble of laughter shook his chest. “I did not quite get that, Little Flame. Can you say it again?” He was enjoying this far too much for his own good, the smug triumph radiating off him in waves.

“I need you to carry my luggage for me,” you enunciated sharply, every word dripping with pure annoyance.

Instead of just taking the win, Thor brought a thick finger to his chin, tapping it as if he were lost in deep thought. He scrunched up his handsome face, tilting his head. “I don’t think that was a really nice way of asking someone to carry your ginormous suitcases for you.”

“Ugh!” You let out a loud, frustrated yell, throwing your hands down to your sides as you forced yourself to look him dead in his sparkling blue eyes. “Will you please carry my luggage for me?”

He smiled triumphantly, his entire face lighting up like a kid on Christmas morning. He finally stepped forward and grabbed your two bags, arranging them in perfect order back-to-back so their elongated handles lined up close together. Then, with a single, massive hand, he closed his fingers over both handles at once. With his own tactical suitcase in his other hand, he effortlessly lifted all three massive bags off the floor without a single hint of strain.

The elevator suddenly dinged, the doors sliding open just as he hoisted the luggage into the air. Ordinarily, you would have completely lost your temper at timing like that. You would have cursed the universe out loud for making you beg for help only for the elevator to arrive a second later.

But the words died in your throat.

The sight of him carrying all three heavy suitcases at once made you breathe in a sharp, sudden gasp. Your pulse skipped a beat in your chest, and your eyes involuntarily roamed all over his frame. He had changed out of his grey t-shirt before coming to your door; he was now wearing a tight black t-shirt that hugged the broad expanse of his chest and shoulders, paired with tailored charcoal linen pants and black loafers.

He looked good. So fucking hot, in fact, that it sent an unexpected, electric tingle shooting straight through your core and settling deep in your stomach. The sight of his veins popping and his massive biceps bulging as he easily carried the weight of your entire life in one hand was—

What the fuck? What the hell was wrong with you?

You were fully aware that the King of Asgard possessed heart-stoppingly good looks—the entire planet was aware of it—but his infuriating behaviour toward you usually stopped you from ever enjoying the sight. You were supposed to dislike him. You were rivals. But what the fuck had just happened to your brain?

You sharply cleared your throat, forcefully tearing your eyes away from his arms as your cheeks burned a bright, furious crimson. Desperate to hide your sudden fluster, you quickly turned and marched past him, going down the staird in a fastened pace.

Thor smoothly followed behind you, his loafers making zero noise on the concrete, while your heels clicked loudly and rapidly down the steps, echoing your erratic, racing heartbeat.

Thor was watching you walk down the stairs before him, still visibly fuming that he had managed to break your stubborn streak and force a please out of your mouth. He was utterly relishing the victory, a brilliant, smug smile that practically screamed he had won etched across his handsome features while he effortlessly balanced your massive luggage in his grip.

But his smugness didn't last long.

You huffed, stopping for a brief second on the landing. With a fluid, deliberate motion, you slid your white cardigan off your shoulders, pooling the fabric into one hand. The sudden movement exposed the sharp, elegant lines of your collarbones in the strapless white dress. You flipped your hair to one side, completely baring the smooth expanse of your neck to the air—and to him. Then, as if you couldn't quite decide what kind of sensory torture you wanted to execute on the King of Asgard, you started heading down the remaining stairs, your hips swaying with a natural, intoxicating rhythm.

Thor took a sudden, sharp breath at the sight before him. His blue eyes went wide, running over your frame, completely unable to decide where to look. His gaze got hopelessly caught on the soft curve of your shoulders, the narrow dip of your waist, the hypnotic roll of your hips.

A hot rush of blood surged to his head. His breath caught violently in his chest, and for the first time in his immortal life, the God of Thunder actually stumbled on a concrete step. His black loafer clipped the edge, his chest heaving as he quickly caught himself.

What the actual hell was happening? He was well aware that you were breathtaking; he had seen the way people’s heads turned whenever you walked into a room without you even trying. But this? This reaction was entirely uncalled for. He disliked you. He disliked your sharp tongue and the way you always had a quip ready to jab at him. He shouldn't be admiring you, yet his heart was currently hammering against his ribs like a war drum.

Hearing his sudden, heavy stumble, you paused and turned your head back to see what was wrong. You found him standing a few steps above you, his jaw slightly slack. A wicked smile slowly bloomed across your face.

“What was that, Your Majesty? Are they too much for you to carry?” you taunted, shifting your body so your chest was fully turned toward him.

Thor’s eyes helplessly drifted downward to your now fully visible chest, his breath catching for a second time that day. The flush on his neck deepened. He aggressively cleared his throat, forcing his eyes up to meet your smirking face.

“Hah! I can move literal mountains, Little Flame. These trinkets are nothing to me,” he mumbled defensively, his voice a bit more rushed than usual. “I simply lost my balance is all.”

Desperate to escape your mocking gaze, he practically ran down the remaining stairs, his loafers squeaking slightly against the polished concrete as he hurried into the main lobby with all three suitcases clutched tightly in his hands.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you watched him go, continuing your descent. The discarded cardigan remained clutched in your hand; you felt entirely too hot, your own racing thoughts making your skin flush. You gulped, trying to aggressively shoo the bizarre tension out of your mind. You hated him. You needed to get a grip.

When you finally reached the expansive glass entrance of the compound, Thor was already standing there, deep in a heated discussion with Tony.

“Why spend hours traveling in one of your metal birds when we can get there in seconds?” Thor was arguing, his brow furrowed in genuine, godly confusion.

Tony turned toward you as you approached, a wicked, entirely too amused smirk lighting up his face. “Ah, perfect timing, Shadow. Point Break here is staging a mutiny. He says you two don't need to board a plane or take a Quinjet.”

“How come?” you asked, your blood suddenly running cold. An ominous weight dropped into your stomach because you could already guess exactly what the god of thunder had in mind.

“Stormbreaker can take us across the world in seconds,” Thor said, turning his massive frame toward you, completely serious.

“But—” you started, your mind frantically grasping for any viable excuse to avoid being that physically close to him for a cosmic teleportation ride. “But how will you carry the luggage while we traverse realms? It’s impossible.”

“You just hold onto me, and I will handle the rest,” he said easily, dismissively, as if he were explaining the most simple, mundane task in the world. You swallowed hard, your heart doing a strange flip. “But Thor, you have to hold Stormbreaker in one hand, and the luggage in the other. What about me? Where am I supposed to go?”

Thor let out a sharp, irritated huff, clearly done with you dragging out the inevitable. “I said I will handle it. Now, let us go.”

He turned away, marching through the sliding glass doors into the bright morning air. He dropped his own suitcase onto the concrete pavement and extended his right hand toward the sky. Within a split second, a loud, crackling boom echoed through the compound as the massive, heavy blade of Stormbreaker flew from his room straight into his waiting palm.

With practiced, terrifying strength, he gathered the handles of all three massive suitcases into his other hand, hoisting them up effortlessly. He turned his head, his short blonde hair catching the sunlight, and motioned sharply with his chin for you to come closer.

You narrowed your eyes at him stubbornly, crossing your arms over your chest. “What if I don’t want to—” Before you could even finish your protest, Thor’s patience snapped. In one swift, blur of a movement, his massive hand shot out and grabbed you firmly by the wrist.

You let out a sharp yelp as he effortlessly yanked you forward into his personal space, his strength completely overriding your balance. He forcefully guided your arms around his thick middle, pulling you so close that your cheek was muffled right against the hard, solid muscle of his chest.

You could feel his heavy pectoral muscles instantly tighten at the sudden contact, a wave of intense, radiating heat washing over you. Before you could even open your mouth to yell at him for handling you so roughly, his deep, rumbling voice vibrated right through his chest wall against your ear. “Hold on tight.” And with a sudden, blinding flash of blue electricity, he raised Stormbreaker high into the sky.

A blinding burst of color erupted all around you as the Bifrost engulfed you both. The roaring force of the cosmic energy threatened to rip you away, and you instinctively closed your eyes tightly, holding yourself steady by gluing your body entirely to his. Your fingers dug firmly into the fabric of his shirt, pulling yourself so close that there wasn’t a single millimeter of space left between your chest and his.

Then, just as quickly as it had begun, the rushing roar vanished.

You felt your heels solidly touch the ground, arriving at your destination in a second. For a moment, your hands remained tightly locked around his middle and your face was still pressed right against the warm, hard muscle of his chest, you could hear his heartbeat thudding against his ribs.

Slowly, you forced your eyes open and pulled your face back, blinking against the sudden, brilliant glare of the Mediterranean sun.

The Sanctuary stretched out before you, you were standing on a private, pristine white-stone terrace that overlooked a sprawling, crescent-shaped bay. The water below was a blinding, translucent turquoise, so clear that you could see the dark, shifting shadows of coral reefs deep beneath the surface. Sleek, multi-million-dollar superyachts were anchored in the distance, polished and gleaming under the midday sun.

The resort itself was built directly into the towering, sun-bleached cliffs of the island. It was a marvel of modern, minimalist design blended with ancient luxury—all clean white concrete, floor-to-ceiling glass panels, and cascading infinity pools that seemed to spill directly into the ocean below. Lavish, vibrant pink bougainvillea and lush green palms draped over stone walkways, softening the sharp lines of the villas.

Your nostrills filled with the scent of saltwater, expensive citrus perfume, and blooming jasmine. In the distance, you could hear the faint, muted clinking of crystal glasses and the smooth, ambient lounge music drifting from an exclusive beachfront pavilion. It was entirely peaceful, completely hidden from the rest of the world, and crawling with some of the most dangerous, corrupt elite on the planet.

You let out a slow breath, your eyes immediately mapping out the security cameras hidden in the palm trees and the heavily armed guards dressed in casual, matching resort linen suits.

“You can let go of me now, Little Flame,” Thor’s deep voice murmured directly above you, a distinct trace of that familiar, smug amusement vibrating right against your hands. “Unless, of course, you are already enjoying the perks of marriage.”

You blinked, sharply pushing yourself away from his broad chest. “You wish,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes as you aggressively smoothed down the wrinkled fabric of your white summer dress. “I’m not exactly into lords, anyway. I prefer a much stronger title.”

“Good thing I am not a lord, then,” he replied smoothly. For the first time, he didn't get defensive or angry at the jab. Instead, he just stood there, smiling down at you with a gaze so wicked that you could practically feel the blood rushing straight to your head.

You internally groaned, chastising yourself. Stupid girl. You really should have thought beforehand that he would turn your own words right back on you like that. But before your scrambled brain could piece together a proper, biting retort, the heavy footsteps of the resort's security staff cut you off.

“Are you invited, sir?”

A burly bodyguard in a pristine, light-blue linen suit approached the two of you. His voice was laced with a deep, unmistakable tone of respect; he clearly recognized the King of Asgard, but he was trying to maintain the island's strict protocol.

“Yes,” you intervened seamlessly, sliding in front of Thor. Your training kicked in instantly, and a perfected, dazzling smile etched itself onto your face. You held up your phone, displaying the exclusive, gold-rimmed digital invitation Tony had intercepted.

The bodyguard scanned the screen, nodding, but his cautious gaze quickly drifted down to the massive, terrifying axe gripped firmly in Thor's left hand. “We... do not allow weapons on the resort grounds, sir. If you could leave it with security—”

“Ah, that is easily remedied,” Thor interrupted cheerfully. With a casual flick of his wrist, the massive, razor-sharp blade of Stormbreaker melted away, shrinking down until it transformed into a simple, polished black umbrella. You whipped your head around to look at the object, completely deadpan. “An umbrella? In this weather?” you muttered, gesturing to the cloudless, blazing mediterranean sky.

Thor’s eyebrows furrowed at you, his jaw tightening in annoyance at your public critique. “Well, there is something called a summer rain, sweetheart,” he said, faking an incredibly sweet, doting smile for the sake of the watchibg guard, though his blue eyes promised absolute murder.

“I don’t think it’s going to rain anytime soon, honey,” you shot back, your voice dripping with a deep, sickeningly fake sugary sweetness as your own plastic smile widened. Before you could take another breath, Thor’s massive arm suddenly shot out, wrapping securely around your waist and forcefully dragging you flush into his side for a tight, suffocating hug.

A sharp, undignified yelp tore from your throat at the sudden impact, but you quickly cleared your throat, masking your shock as you gripped his forearm. He was absolutely enjoying torturing you, using the doting husband act as the perfect excuse to handle you however he pleased. You were going to kill him.

“I can make it rain anytime I wish,” he murmured, his tone biting at you in a dangerous, playful whisper that sent an involuntary shiver down your spine. He flashed one last dazzling smile at the bewildered bodyguard. “Now, let us go to our room, yeah?”

After that, the guard politely led you both through the sweeping glass doors toward the main lobby, where a receptionist stood behind a white marble desk, a bright, welcoming smile on her face.

“Welcome to The Sanctuary. Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Odinson,” she said smoothly, but the moment the words left her mouth, you saw her cringe a bit, her eyes darting between the digital registry and your face as she thought the names over. You noticed the hesitation instantly, Odinson did sound incredibly weird when referring to a woman.

“Is that your last name now, madam? Should I call you that?” she genuinely asked, looking a bit flustered, as if she were desperately trying to avoid making a mistake.

A massive grin broke across your face while Thor’s expression instantly soured. Oh, you liked this receptionist already.

“I genuinely have no idea. It does sound completely off when you say it like that, doesn't it?” you said, leaning against the marble desk. Then, you slowly turned your head to look up at him, your eyes wide with mock innocence. “Honey, is my last name Odinson now? Wouldn't that literally just mean I’m a son of Odin? I mea—”

He cut you off instantly, his jaw clenching as he growled under his breath, clearly pissed. “Well, we are in Midgard, darling. So your last name is now Odinson here, no? It is how things are done on this realm.” He forced out a tight, blindingly fake smile, trying his absolute best not to throw off the receptionist standing inches away.

You smiled right back, utterly loving the fact that you had managed to piss him off so quickly. You turned back to the receptionist, giving her a conspiratorial look. “Or you could just call me by my former last na—”

“No.” Thor cut you off again, his deep voice dropping an octave, completely unyielding as his blue eyes threw literal daggers down at you. “She will be referred to as Mrs. Odinson.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, your smile faltering for a split second. That was a remarkably quick, fiercely defensive reaction from him. Why the hell did he care so much about a fake human registry?

Recovering quickly, you huffed out a light, airy fake laugh for the receptionist's benefit, gesturing toward the rigid King beside you. “He gets incredibly defensive in situations like this,” you told her. Then, leaning in slightly, you whispered in a stage-whisper, “Male ego, am I right?” The receptionist let out a quiet, knowing chuckle and nodded her head in absolute agreement, clearly understanding exactly what you meant.

“I will show you to your room then, Mrs. Odinson,” she said, stepping out from behind the marble desk and motioning toward a glass elevator that overlooked the turquoise bay, while waving over a bellboy to take the three giant suitcases from Thor's hands.

Thor let the bellboy take the suitcases, his hands finally free as he followed the two of you toward the glass lift. The receptionist held the elevator doors open, gesturing politely with an extended hand, and once you and Thor stepped inside, she followed, pressing the button for the upper residential levels.

The elevator began its smooth ascent. Thor looked around the glass enclosure, his massive arms folding tightly over his broad chest. The movement made his biceps bulge prominently against the fabric of his t-shirt, and your traitorous eyes immediately darted downward, following the sharp lines of his muscles before you could even stop yourself.

“I like this Midgardian facility,” Thor remarked, his deep voice echoing in the enclosed space as he looked out at the view. “It is quite nice.”

“Me too. Love the design, honestly.” you said smoothly, flashing a perfect, effortless hand gesture, but as your eyes finally flicked away from Thor’s arm, you caught something out of the corner of your eye. A sudden, entirely unknown feeling brewed in the pit of your stomach.

The receptionist was staring at Thor’s arms. And she wasn't just glancing; she was so goddamn focused, her eyes tracing the thick veins of his biceps, that she didn't even notice your lethal gaze cutting right through her.

You were definitely taking it back—you did not like this girl at all.

Before your brain could even process the irrational spike of possessiveness, you acted on pure instinct. You stepped right into his space, cleared your throat sharply, and forcefully reached up to uncross his arms.

“What are—” Thor started, entirely caught off guard by the unexpected intrusion.

He was completely silenced as you forcefully dragged his broad frame down into a tight side hug. Your arm slid securely over his back, anchoring him to you, and you felt his breath hitch violently at the sudden contact. He froze for a second, his chest heaving, before he cleared his throat and let his massive hand find the curve of your waist, pulling you securely against his hip.

You kept your eyes locked dead on the receptionist, claiming your territory with absolute, unyielding dominance. You flashed her a wicked, razor-sharp smile. The girl's cheeks instantly flushed crimson, and she averted her eyes toward the floor, clearly mortified that she had been caught staring at a married man, beside his wife at that.

The second the threat was neutralized, your actions crashed down on you. You had absolutely no idea what had just come over you, or why the fuck you would ever do something like that over Thor. Okay, you probably—definitely did that because the thought of another woman disrespecting you by looking at your husband made you want to commit murder. Correction, supposed husband. Still he was your fucking husband for now and she was looking at him and— It’s all about you really, all good. Nothing to worry about.

Your face burned with a furious heat as you forced your gaze straight ahead, refusing to look at him, but you could feel the immense weight of his blue eyes staring down at the side of your face—burning you, fucking scorching you with an intense, questioning gaze.

Thankfully, the elevator dinged, saving you from the embarrassment.

The doors slid open, and you caught your first breathtaking sight of the upper facility. It wasn't a standard, enclosed hotel corridor. Instead, the elevator opened directly into the brilliant, open air of the cliffside. It was designed like an exclusive luxury resort enclave; the elevator connected the lower main lobby directly to an expansive, sun-drenched outdoor terrace that led to the private villa section of the property.

Stone pathways winded through lush, manicured tropical gardens, flanked by cascading water features and private infinity pools that looked like they hung off the edge of the world. The ocean breeze hit your face instantly, lifting the hem of your white dress, but the burning weight of Thor’s hand still resting firmly on your waist made it impossible to feel the cold.

You followed the receptionist, her eyes now glued strictly forward as she walked, her posture stiff with the embarrassment of the whole situation.

You tried to subtly peel yourself away from Thor’s side, but the moment you moved, the heavy grip of his hand on your waist tightened significantly. Your eyes instinctively glanced upward to him, ready to snap, but he was simply looking around at the passing scenery, appearing completely unbothered by the situation. Why wouldn't he let go? You wondered why the hell he would keep you tethered to his side like this, as if he actively wanted you there.

Then, doing something you thought you would absolutely never do, you let him. You quietly surrendered, allowing him to hold you tight against his hip as you both walked down the sun-drenched stone path.

Other elite couples passed you by, their judgmental eyes scanning you up and down as they noted the stunning, mysterious woman on the arm of the Asgardian King. This is exactly why he is keeping you glued to him, a strict, grounding voice echoed in your mind. Do not forget the objective, or the fact that you both could never, ever like each other like that. You swallowed hard, your own hand involuntarily tightening around his side for a split second. Why the fuck would you even think otherwise?

The receptionist finally approached a secluded, breathtaking cliffside villa. She opened the heavy timber door for you, stepping aside to hand you the room keycards.

The moment you stepped across the threshold, your eyes widened at the sight before you. Your blood ran completely cold. You let go of his waist immediately, and this time he actually let you.

Your hands were slightly shaking as you looked around the massive, sunlit room. Why hadn't you thought of this earlier? Ofcourse. It was painfully obvious. You were pretending to be a married couple on a honeymoon, after all.

You looked beside you only to see Thor standing entirely frozen, his lips slightly agape and his breathing turning shallow and fast as you both simultaneously realized how profoundly fucked up this mission actually was.

There was only one fucking bed.

It was a massive, ultra-luxurious king-sized bed, draped in crisp white linens and pushed directly against the center of the room, facing the glass walls that looked out over the ocean. Thor couldn't believe his own stupidity; how could he have thought he wouldn't have to share a bed with you on a mission where you were supposed to be blissfully in love? This mission was officially going to be the absolute death of him.

He slowly turned his head to look down at you, only to find you already staring up at him with completely bewildered, panicked eyes.

“I hope you like your room. Have a wonderful stay, Mr. and Mrs. Odinson,” the receptionist said, her voice finally breaking the tense silence that had descended upon the room.

The sound of her talking jolted you both out of your shared panic. You didn't even look at her fully, only giving a stiff side-eye and a tight nod before she quickly scrambled out of the room, shutting the heavy door behind her.

The second the click of the lock echoed through the villa, you spun on your heels to face him. Your voice was sharp, defensive, and entirely determined as you pointed a finger at him. “I will sleep in the bed.”

His eyes narrowed at you instantly. “No, I will,” he counter-attacked, and with two long, authoritative strides, he walked over to the bed and sat down heavily on the mattress, trying to claim the territory by physical force. You scoffed loudly, refusing to back down. You marched right over to the edge of the bed and sat down forcefully beside him, turning your body to face him dead-on. “I will,” you repeated stubbornly, your jaw locking.

Thor snorted, a challenge dancing in his blue eyes. “Okay, then. You will simply be sleeping next to me.”

Your eyes widened in sudden panic as you huffed out a sharp breath. “What?” you said, utterly bewildered by the casualness of his suggestion.

He rolled his eyes, gesturing broadly to the sprawling mattress behind him. “This is a massive bed, love. We both can fit, clearly.”

The moment the casual pet name slipped from his tongue, Thor internally bit down on it, desperately trying to maintain his stoic composure. What the fuck is my problem? he wondered, a silent storm raging in his mind as he stared at your flushed face. There was no one here to perform for. The door was locked. Yet his brain was completely short-circuiting.

Your breath hitched in your throat. Why the hell would he call you that when there wasn't a single soul around to witness it? You swallowed hard, trying to inject some of your usual venom back into your voice to hide your racing pulse. “You are ginormous, Thor. You would probably just roll over in the middle of the night and crush me to death or something—”

“I would never,” he said softly, cutting you off. He looked directly at you, his gaze suddenly changing into an intensity so deeply serious, that it made your heart give a treacherous flutter against your ribs.

You gulped, your mind going entirely blank. You tried to grasp for another excuse, another biting retort, but the gravity of his presence was making you forget everything else besides him.

Thor’s eyes roamed all over your face, desperately trying to dissect whatever panicked thoughts were racing through your mind. But as his gaze drifted downward, your bare arms caught his eye.

His breath hitched violently. His eyebrows furrowed into a deep, troubled line as his vision focused entirely on your skin.

How the hell had he never noticed them before?

Faint, jagged scars were littered all over your arms, disrupting your otherwise flawless skin. They were the unmistakable, ghostly remnants of... what? How could you have possibly acquired them? He knew you possessed an advanced healing factor—he had seen you bounce back from lethal battle wounds within hours—so if these marks remained, the trauma that caused them must have been unfathomable. It must have happened before you ever gained your abilities. But how did you even get your powers?

Thor realized, with a jarring pang in his chest, that he knew absolutely nothing about your history. He knew nothing of what had happened to you, where you had come from, or how you had earned those marks. A dark, protective rage began to brew in his chest, his breathing turning ragged as he stared at the faint lines.

You noticed the exact second his eyes shifted. A cold, suffocating dread pooled in your stomach.

Nobody outside of Tony, Steve, Natasha, and Bucky knew what had happened to you. Tony and Steve knew because they were the ones who had found you, breaking into that dark Hydra facility to save your life. Natasha knew because she was your absolute closest friend, the person who held you through the worst of the night terrors. Bucky knew only because you had trusted him with the truth, knowing he was the only one who truly understood the agony of being a broken, unwilling assassin.

But Thor? Thor hadn't been there when you were saved. He had been worlds away, dealing with the high-stakes matters of Asgard. And you, of course, had never told him. How could you? When he had finally returned to Earth and met you for the very first time, he had simply looked at you deadpan and muttered, “She looks gloomy.”

The comment had broken you. Before he had ever spoken to you, you had thought him absolutely extraordinary. The exact second you had caught sight of his legendary, powerful frame, an intense, quiet attraction had sparked inside you. But he had broken all of that in a single second by calling you gloomy, bruising your defensive ego and forcing you to react in the absolute worst way possible—yelling at him and starting a years-long war of petty arguments. He was the only person on the team who could ever get you to react with such unhinged irritation.

Now, your heart dropped straight to your stomach at the horrifying thought of him having another piece of leverage over you. He could never know the truth. You couldn't let him see your vulnerability.

As you watched his eyes frantically trace the lines on your skin, his massive left hand slowly ascended, his fingers instinctively reaching out to gently touch your arm.

The impending contact made you take a sharp, terrified breath. Your fight-or-flight response slammed into overdrive, and you abruptly stammered out a quick, “I have to pee!” Before he could even respond, you bolted off the mattress, practically running toward the privacy of the bathroom.

You rubbed your face as you gulped, staring at your reflection in the mirror.

I have to pee? Seriously? You couldn’t have found anything better to say?

The faster we are done with this, the better, you thought to yourself, anxiously pacing around the marble bathroom. Steve had said the mission could take anywhere from two days to an entire week. You were strictly determined to wrap this up in two days max—because if you didn't, so help you God, you were going to go completely insane.

You splashed ice-cold water on your face, breathing out a long, shaky exhale. You could do this. You could endure this. This was absolutely nothing compared to the horrors you had survived in your past, but for some reason, why did it feel like this was even worse?

Steeling your nerves, you finally walked out of the bathroom, only to see Thor standing outside on the terrace, his massive back turned to you. Your eyes involuntarily roamed over his broad figure, and you breathed out a long breath to calm your racing heart.

He heard you step into the room—of course he did. He turned back toward you, locking his blue eyes onto your face as he made his way back inside. “I like it here,” he mumbled, looking around the room before his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Where are our things? That servant took—”

Your eyebrows shot up instantly. “Servant?”

“Yes. The one who took our bags.”

You let out an involuntary, nervous giggle as you sat back down on the edge of the bed, rolling your eyes. “Thor, he’s not a servant. He’s a bellboy.” His brow furrowed even deeper. “Bellboy?”

“Yes. People who carry luggage to the rooms in hotels are called bellboys.”

“So... they are servants?” he repeated stubbornly. You huffed, deeply annoyed by his royal dense-headedness. “Thor, do not call anyone a servant to their face. It’s incredibly belittling and—” Right as the lecture was leaving your mouth, a sharp knock echoed from the front door.

“Ah! The servant is here,” Thor declared triumphantly, immediately striding toward the entryway to open it.

“Thor, no—” you gasped, scrambling up from the bed. You were desperately trying to intercept him, wanting to avoid a catastrophic conversation where he would inevitably embarrass the poor resort worker.

But Thor was too fast. He swung the door open and casually leaned his massive shoulder against the wall, watching the bellboy roll your three giant suitcases into the villa’s foyer. However, instead of ignoring you, Thor’s blue eyes were suddenly gleaming with pure mischief as he looked across the room at your panicked face.

Your eyes narrowed into lethal slits. You fiercely mouthed a very deliberate, aggressive 'No' to him.

But seeing your panic only made his smug smile widen. The exact second he opened his annoying, beautiful mouth to speak, your instincts slammed into overdrive. Your brain completely short-circuited. You scrambled over to him in a blind, chaotic rush. Before he could utter a single syllable, you threw yourself into his personal space, your arms wrapping securely around his thick neck as you hopped completely on top of him, forcefully pressing his face right into the crook of your neck to physically muffle his mouth against your skin.

Thor froze dead in his tracks. The sudden impact of your body would have knocked any human man flat on his back, but he didn't even sway. His breath hitched sharply, and his massive hands instinctively shot down, grabbing the back of your thighs to hold you up without breaking a single sweat.

The bellboy’s eyes went completely wide at the unexpected, intensely passionate display.

Your face burned a scorching, furious red as you awkwardly tilted your head back, your arms still locked around Thor's neck. “Just... love my husband so much, you know? Can’t help myself,” you breathed out, your voice strained as you forced a bright, desperately in love smile.

The bellboy nodded quickly, his eyes still dinner-plate wide as he awkwardly parked the luggage.

Thor’s head had been pinned right against your neck, but he suddenly lifted his head up forcefully, his godlike strength easily overriding your desperate attempt to hold him still.

“Cannot keep her hands to herself, this one,” Thor told the bellboy, a deep, rumbling chuckle vibrating through his chest. He was smiling brightly, clearly enjoying every single second of this absolute ordeal.

You literally could not believe you had just done that. You were just trying to spare the poor worker’s feelings, and—okay, fine, you absolutely did not need to jump on top of him like a koala. But in that split second of panic, your brain had completely ruled out kissing him as an option—obviously, because why were you even thinking of it in the first place?—, leaving you with no choice but to launch yourself at him to take him off guard.

The mortified bellboy practically scrambled out of the villa, quickly wishing you both a good day before slamming the door shut.

You let out a massive sigh of relief, your forehead dropping against Thor's shoulder. You hadn't even been able to give the poor guy a tip. You shook your head in deep disapproval, your gaze finally snapping back up to look at Thor.

And that’s when your brain finally caught up to the reality of your physical situation.

The room was dead silent. Thor was staring down at you with an incredibly intense, dark, and unreadable gaze. He was still holding you entirely aloft in his arms. Your legs were circled tightly around his broad waist, his heavy hands were gripping the bare skin under your thighs, and your goddamn summer dress had completely ridden up your legs. The direct, calloused touch of his palms against your skin was burning you like liquid fire.

Your breathing suddenly grew shallow and fast. Oh god. You needed to get off of him right now.

You swallowed hard, subtly shifting your weight to slide down, but his grip remained like iron bands. You couldn't move.

“You can let go now, you know?” you whispered, your voice lacking its usual bite as you stared into his intense blue eyes.

Thor aggressively cleared his throat, looking momentarily startled by how close your lips were to his. But within a fraction of a second, that goddamn smug, teasing smile started slow-burning across his face. You knew that exact expression, and it never meant anything good for your sanity.

“Why?” he murmured, his voice dropping into a low, rumbling rasp that sent a wave of heat straight to your core. “You willingly hopped into my arms, Little Flame. I might as well enjoy the embrace.”

You gasped in absolute outrage, sharply slapping his broad chest with your palm as you desperately tried to wrench yourself out of his grip. He was being annoying, cruel, and completely, fucking insufferable.

“Just let go of me, you pervert!” you snapped, your right hand desperately attempting to peel his iron grip off your bare leg.

He finally let go of you with a low, rumbling chuckle, clearly enjoying annoying you far too much for his own good. “Pervert? I am not the one who jumped blindly into your arms, Little Flame.”

You flushed a furious crimson, sharply turning your back to him to hide the heat on your face. “Let's just fucking get ready and try to find some info on our objective,” you muttered tightly. You grabbed one of your massive suitcases, plopping it down onto the luggage rack with a heavy thud, and unzipped it. Behind you, his quiet, amused chuckles continued to bounce off the walls, making your blood boil with pure anger, but you forced your mouth shut.

You aggressively rummaged through your clothes, grabbing a white, high-cut skimpy monokini and a breezy dress to wear over it. Clucthing the fabric to your chest, you marched straight back into the bathroom to get ready.

You locked the door, taking a few ragged breaths to settle your racing pulse. You fixed your hair, and carefully slipped into the monokini and the dress. Standing in front of the mirror, you let out a long exhale, though your face was still burning with a deep, stubborn embarrassment. You could do this. It was just a mission.

You emerged from the bathroom, deliberately looking anywhere but at Thor as he smoothly stepped past you to go get changed himself. You walked over to the vanity, but a few moments later, his booming, deeply confused voice echoed from the other side of the door.

“This just looks like underwear.”

The bathroom door swung open, and Thor walked out, looking down at himself with a bewildered expression. The second your eyes landed on him, you literally choked on your own spit.

He was wearing a pair of simple navy swimming trunks—and absolutely nothing else. No shirt, no linen button-down, nothing to cover the massive expanse of his upper body.

Your eyes involuntarily danced over his frame, your mouth falling slightly agape as you took him in. The midday sun streaming through the glass walls caught every single ridge of his body. Your gaze traced the thick, prominent veins running over his forearms and bulging biceps, moving up to the broad, heavy expanse of his chest, and dropping down to his rock-hard, perfectly sculpted abs.

Oh, fuck. You felt a sharp, electric flutter ignite deep down in your stomach.

“We Asgardians just go into the waters naked to swim, you know,” he stated proudly, adjusting the waistband of the trunks. “This Earth clothing feels ridiculous.”

He was probably referring to times back home when he did exactly that—swimming freely in royal Asgardian lakes, likely with beautiful women. But the sudden, intrusive mental image of going swimming with a completely naked Thor made you gulp harshly, your eyes widening in panic.

And that was the exact moment he caught the state of your face.

Thor froze. His breath hitched in his throat as his blue eyes locked onto you. Your beautiful eyes had darkened with an intense, raw heat, your gaze completely fixed on his bare chest while your sinful lips remained slightly parted. As he watched, your tongue subtly darted out to lick your lower lip, your breathing turning shallow.

The God of Thunder felt his entire frame go completely rigid in the middle of the room.

You were not thinking what he thought you were... were you? For the first time, a heavy, pounding tension that had nothing to do with anger or bickering flooded the air around you. Thor felt his heart skip a beat against his ribs at the terrifying, intoxicating thought of you actually looking at him like that, willing him to step closer.

You closed your eyes then, and the sudden, intrusive thought of him being completely naked with other women infiltrated your mind. It filled you with a strange, unexplainable feeling—a sharp, poisonous ache that you had felt before in your life but couldn't quite put your finger on. Your stomach actively churned at the mental image, a dark wave of possessiveness and frustration twisting tight inside your core mkaing you open your eyes back.

The lung-burning silence broke when you abruptly gulped, tearing your gaze away from his abdomen as your cheeks flared a bright, defensive red.

“Put a shirt on, will you?” you muttered breathlessly.

Without waiting for a response, you spun on your heel and practically bolted out onto the sun-drenched balcony, desperately needing the breeze to help you catch your breath before you completely lost your mind.

Inside, Thor’s eyebrows furrowed deeply. He stood entirely frozen in the center of the room, his heart dropping straight to his stomach at the words you had just thrown at him.

Of course.

Why the hell would he ever think you wanted him? What was he thinking? You obviously were not attracted to him in the slightest. In fact, it was the exact opposite—you clearly disliked him so much that you couldn't even bear to see a glimpse of his bare upper body, which was why you had breathlessly demanded he cover himself up.

Thor let out a low, frustrated groan, bringing his massive hands up to aggressively palm his face. Why did he even care so much? Why did your rejection sting like needles on his skin?

Steeling his posture, he marched back over to his suitcase, snatched up a matching navy t-shirt, and harshly yanked it down over his head, hiding his chest from view. He desperately needed a fucking drink. He was entirely certain there wasn’t a single alcoholic beverage on this entire planet that could properly numb his brain right now. Not even heavy Asgardian ale could get him drunk enough at this point. He actually was fucking sure there wasn't a single drink in the entire universe that could make him drunk enough to forget about you, your angelic face, these unexplainable feelings, and the damning fact that you absolutely hated him.

“Let’s go,” his deep voice boomed behind you.

Startled out of your thoughts on the balcony, you turned around and walked back inside the air-conditioned room. You quietly followed him as he strode over to the heavy front door, swinging it open and standing firmly in the entryway as he waited for you to walk past.

You went out, your wedge sandals clicking softly on the stone path as you took a deep breath of the humid air, trying to reset your frayed nerves. As you made your way down toward the main infinity pool with Thor by your side, you suddenly felt a firm, sudden tug on your hand.

Because you had left the villa first, you had been walking a few paces ahead of him, but with one effortless pull, he brought you right back next to his side. His massive palm slid against yours, his fingers wrapping around your hand and engulfing it completely.

Your pulse gave a wild, treacherous flutter. Your eyes filled with immediate, defensive questions as you snapped your head up to look at him. Your hand felt like it was on fire, your skin practically melting under the direct heat of his touch. But before you could snap at him, Thor simply gestured with a subtle tilt of his chin toward a few couples who were walking past, watching you closely.

Right. Real couples walked hand-in-hand. You were supposed to be blissfully married, so this was completely ordinary. You forced yourself to nod, your fingers slowly sliding into his, intertwining with his firmly to sell the act.

Before heading over to the pool deck, you stopped by the wooden towel stand. You grabbed two plush beach towels, offering a polite, dazzling smile and a quiet thank you to the young worker who handed them over. As you began walking toward two vacant, prime sunbeds you had spotted near the edge of the water, Thor leaned down significantly to get right on your level.

His warm breath brushed against your ear as he whispered, “Lots of servants here.”

You immediately looked up at him, your eyes boring holes into his face. “Thor, they are resort employees. Stop it,” you hissed under your breath.

A smug, infuriating smile broke across his face. He was clearly enjoying the easy way he could piss you off. Still, his hand didn't release yours; his fingers remained tightly engulfed around your hand as you finally settled right next to the vacant sunbeds.

He finally let go of your hand, though his blue eyes remained highly alert, scanning the perimeter. He took in the entire scene—the crowded pool bar, the glittering water, and the exclusive guests. Upbeat lounge music pulsed quietly from the hidden outdoor speakers as his gaze tracked the crowd.

His eyes locked onto a specific target sitting near the bar: a man with a distinct scar slicing through his left eyebrow, short black hair, and deeply bronzed skin. The stool next to the man was vacant, and he was casually sipping on a dark amber liquor—what Thor recognized as whiskey, a Midgardian drink he had tried during his time with the Avengers.

Thor turned his head back to tell you he had spotted their mark, but the words got caught in his throat.

You had already slid your dress off, leaving it pooled on the side of the chair. You were now sitting down comfortably on the sunbed, your bare legs stretched out in front of you.

The sight of your exposed skin and the incredibly skimpy, high-cut beachwear made a sudden rush of blood boil furiously through Thor's veins. His gaze darkened instantly, his eyes helplessly mapping the smooth expanse of your collarbones, your chest, and your fucking perfect legs. Oh, fuck. He literally couldn't breathe. The air vanished from his lungs, and he averted his eyes toward the sea, his heart hammering so wildly against his ribs he thought it might actually beat its way straight out of his chest.

Desperate to cool down, he aggressively cleared his throat and grabbed the hem of his t-shirt, yanking it off his body.

Your eyes remained glued strictly ahead of you, stubbornly refusing to spare him a single glance. You heard the rustle of fabric and the distinct sound of him tossing the shirt onto the table, but you refused to face him. You unfortunately felt far too many weird, dangerous things flipping in your stomach whenever you looked at his bare chest, and you weren't about to risk your sanity now. Fuck this entire operation, really, you thought bitterly.

You heard the sunbed creak as his massive weight sat down on the lounge chair right next to yours. Your positions were exactly identical, your legs laid out parallel to each other on the matching cushions. You were close—entirely too close.

Needing to ground yourself and focus on the mission, you leaned over toward him, lowering your voice to a sharp, determined whisper. “We either finish this in two days or an entire week. Let’s get this over with quickly, so that I do not have to be your wife for another—” But you had made the catastrophic mistake of turning your head to look at him while you whispered. The words died completely in your throat, and the remaining oxygen was brutally taken right out of your lungs.

Thor had laid back against the cushion, his massive, bare arms raised up next to his head to support the back of his neck. The position made his biceps and shoulders bulge spectacularly under the sunlight, the lines of his chest stretching taut.

“...second,” you trailed off breathlessly, your voice dropping to a faint whisper as you quickly snapped your head back to stare blindly at the water in front of you.

“I agree,” Thor said simply, his deep voice carrying a gravelly, tight edge as he stared straight ahead, too. “This whole ordeal is ridiculous, I’ll tell you that. There is absolutely no need to drag it out.”

You laid perfectly still on the sunbed, the intense heat baking your skin, but it was nothing compared to the suffocating tension radiating from the man lying right next to you.

What’s happening to me? you wondered frantically in your mind, trying to ground yourself as you looked around the bustling pool area. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the man with the scarred eyebrow, and a cold jolt of recognition hit you. He looked familiar because he was your target. Valentin Moretti, the spoiled, arrogant playboy of the family who handled the high-society entertainment and smuggling logistics at the resort. He was the only middleman who held the digital decryption keys to the Dark Elf tech you and Thor were trying to locate.

And right now, he was staring right at you.

The second his eyes hit you, his posture shifted. His dark eyes narrowed, deliberately burning their way down the length of your body, lingering heavily on the high-cut lines of your white monokini and your bare legs. A smooth, predatory smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. He raised his whiskey glass in a silent, incredibly bold toast directly toward you.

“I was just about to tell you I spotted our target, but it seems like he spotted you,” Thor grumbled. He glared over at Valentin, his blue eyes darkening to a stormy hue as his hands clenched into massive, white-knuckled fists behind his head. “Why the fuck is he staring at you like that?” he muttered, every single muscle in his broad frame clenching tight as he fought a losing battle to keep himself from doing something stupid. Like striking the fucker with a stray bolt of lightning.

“Thor, keep your eyes straight ahead,” you hissed back under your breath, stubbornly refusing to look at him. “Tony said he runs the security and digital access keys for the entire compound. If he’s interested, it means we have an opening.”

“An opening to what?” Thor muttered, his tone sharply biting. “He is vile. Look at how he comports himself.”

“An opening for me to get to know hi—”

“Absolutely not,” he interrupted, his voice cutting through the humid air like a sharpened blade.

Your eyebrows furrowed deeply. “What do you mean? We need him, Thor!” you whisper-shouted, sharply turning your body toward him.

He was staring literal daggers across the pool deck, his biceps bulging prominently as he breathed. He looked absolutely furious. You scoffed internally. Did the mere thought of another man being interested in you anger him this much? Did he despise you so profoundly that he couldn't even entertain the thought that a man could actually find you attractive? You breathed sharply through your nose like an enraged bull; you absolutely could not let his fragile ego fuck up this entire operation.

“I am going to the ladies room,” you announced abruptly.

You sat up, your hips shifting with a natural, subtle sway as you swung your legs off the lounge chair. The movement drew Thor’s intense gaze straight to your back, his eyes tracking you with the exact same heavy focus as a certain someone across the pool deck. Thor’s jaw clenched so hard a muscle ticked in his cheek. He knew exactly what you were doing; he was not fucking stupid. You were trying to get away from him to corner the target alone. And he was absolutely not going to let you.

You marched into the restroom, deliberately waiting inside for two full minutes to give Valentin time to notice your absence. When you finally emerged back into the bright sunshine, your eyes instantly scanned the area for Thor, but you couldn't find his giant frame anywhere near the sunbeds. Your brows knitted in concern. Where the fuck is he? You shook your head, dismissing the thought.

Continuing your way, your strides remained purposeful, your hips swaying with an intoxicating rhythm as you confidently made your way over to the open-air pool bar. You stopped right next to two stols away from Valentin, placing your hands flat on the polished marble counter.

“A cosmopolitan, please,” you told the bartender, flashing a polite smile.

Beside you, Valentin smirked and got up, sliding onto the stool right next to you. “Good afternoon,” he smoothed, his voice dripping with an arrogant, upper-class accent as he looked down at your frame. His smirk widened. “I don’t mean to intrude, but I haven't seen your face at the Sanctuary before. I am Valentin.”

You immediately forced your perfected, dazzling smile onto your face, tilting your head up to look at him. “Hello,” you said, your voice smooth, breathy, and entirely welcoming as you deliberately played the part.

Valentin’s dark eyes flashed with deep approval at your response. But just as he opened his mouth to speak, a heavy, solid weight crashed into your side.

A massive, bare arm wrapped securely around your waist, his fingers gripping your skin so tightly that your breath instantly hitched in your throat.

“Here you are, darling,” Thor muttered, leaning down so close his lips practically brushed your ear, though his icy gaze remained dead-locked onto Valentin.

“Here I am,” you said through your teeth. You forced out a light, airy giggle for appearance's sake, but underneath the counter, you aggressively pinched the skin of his arm. Just what did he think he was doing?

In response, his grip only tightened, anchoring you flush against his solid hip.

Valentin looked between the two of you, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise, though his arrogant smirk remained firmly in place. “Your companion didn't seem to care you were there just minutes ago,” Valentin noted smoothly, turning his attention entirely back to you and deliberately stepping a fraction closer to your space. “If you ever find yourself bored with the company, cara, I am always hosting private tastings in the VIP lounge upstairs. A woman of your taste shouldn't be left to just bake in the sun.”

Valentin finally flicked a dismissive, incredibly brief glance toward Thor, taking in his towering height, his bare chest, and his silent, murderous expression. Valentin chuckled softly under his breath, entirely assuming Thor was just some brainless, handsome trophy husband you kept around for arm candy.

You felt your eyes briefly close in pure panic as Thor tried to keep his mouth shut. The tension radiating off him was terrifying; he pulled you even harder against his side, his thumb digging into your waist. Didn't this mortal idiot know who he was dealing with? The God of Thunder looked like he was about to rip Valentin’s head off his shoulders and toss it directly into the infinity pool.

“My husband,” you intervened quickly, emphasizing the word heavily while throwing Thor a sharp, lethal warning glare, “is just enjoying the peace. But thank you for the invitation, Valentin. We might just take you up on that.”

“I look forward to it,” Valentin murmured, his eyes giving your body one last, shameless scan down to your bare legs. He gave a polite nod and turned back toward the bar, entirely unaware of how close he had just come to an early grave.

Thor practically dragged you out of there, his heavy grip guiding you back toward the sunbeds.

The second Valentin was out of earshot, you let out a sharp breath, turning your head to hiss at him. “What do you think you're doing?!”

Thor didn't even spare you a glance, his jaw set in a rigid line as he kept on walking, dragging you right along by his side. “I am not doing anything.” You huffed, sharply slapping his bare arm. “Thor, you're going to ruin everything!” He acted completely deaf, ignoring your slap as he kept his heavy strides forward.

“Tomorrow,” you whispered fiercely, leaning in closer to his side so none of the passing guests could overhear. “I am going to have to flirt with him to get those access codes, and you will not do things like what you just did!”

Thor’s head snapped toward you so fast your breath caught harshly in your chest. His blue eyes were burning, fucking scorching into yours with an unhinged look.

“You will not,” he growled.

You scoffed loudly, throwing your head back. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he said flatly. He finally let go of your waist, sitting back down heavily on his sunbed.

You remained standing over him, your hands flying up in pure frustration. “Is the concept of a man finding me attractive such a foreign concept to you?!” you whisper-shouted, your chest heaving.

He didn't respond as he kept looking at Valentin, his jaw locking into a tight, defensive line. Ofcourse he did not, and that was the exact problem. Any man who set their eyes on you would find you attractive and he could not fucking stand it.

It's because you cannot stand her, his mind echoed, but he knew something was desperately wron g with him.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Valentin was still watching the two of you from the bar, clearly reveling in the fact that he had caused a little disagreement between the stunning woman and her brute of a husband. Thor’s eyes darkened even further as he tracked Valentin's amused expression.

Your gaze followed Thor's, landing right on the smug target.

“Are you serious?” you muttered to Thor. Then, turning your head toward the bar, you deliberately forced a sweet smile and gave Valentin a little, subtle wave.

You turned back to Thor, sitting down forcefully on your own sunbed. “I will do what I have to do, Thor,” you said coldly, snatching up a glossy fashion magazine from the side table—one of the resort’s complimentary services.

“We’ll see about that,” Thor muttered back, his voice dangerous.

You didn't respond, your own jaw locking in a fury so intense you wanted to wrap your hands around his thick neck and strangle him.

So yeah, your day was going exactly the same. You had wanted to strangle him in the morning, and you wanted to strangle him right now. Not a single thing had changed, other than the fact that he was now your supposed husband.

You aggressively kept on turning the glossy pages of the magazine, but your gaze followed Valentin precisely. Between the articles, your sharp eyes roamed over every single person on the pool deck, dissecting them and their behaviors, mapping out the security hierarchy of the resort. But you got bored after a while, the heat and the tension becoming too much to sit through. Deciding you needed a distraction, you stood up from your sunbed to go into the pool.

The moment you stood, Thor’s intense gaze focused directly in on your stomach. The air left his lungs. There, cutting across your midriff, were the exact same faint, jagged scars. His blood ran entirely cold. Just how many of those did you have hidden across your body? He felt his stomach churn painfully, his hands going completely cold despite the blistering sun. But just as he watched you walk down the shallow steps into the water, he fucking saw Valentin look at you again.

Just why did this guy not give up?

Thor felt something violent biting at him inside—something so utterly convincing and overwhelming that his face hardened into stone. He got up immediately, his towering frame casting a shadow over the lounge chairs as he followed you straight into the water.

You were already in the pool, the cold water instantly relieving your burning skin. You swam smoothly toward the far edge, propping your elbows up on the smooth marble so you could lay your head on your hands and finally relax.

Just as you were settling in, a calm expression finally washing over your face, the entire pool rattled with the force of someone jumping in.

You whipped your head around, your eyes wide with irritation. Thor emerged from underwater a split second later, a smug, breathless smile on his face as he broke the surface just inches away from you.

“Can I not relax in peace now?” you snapped between your teeth.

But the remaining words were brutally taken right out of your lungs. Before you could slide away, Thor wrapped his massive hands securely around the back of your bare thighs, effortlessly lifting your body up in the water. The sudden momentum left you with no choice but to instinctively circle your legs around his broad waist to keep from slipping.

“What are you doing?” you whispered into his ear, completely breathless. Despite the panic racing through your veins, you forced a bright, blinding honeymoon smile for the sake of the couples swimming near you, whose bewildered, intrigued expressions were already focused entirely on the two of you.

“I am enjoying the cold water with my wife,” he murmured back. His warm breath fanned heavily over the sensitive skin of your neck as he intentionally cornered you, crowding your front while your back was pressed against the marble edge of the pool you had been relaxing on seconds ago.

Your hands instinctively found his neck, your fingers gripping his shoulders while your thumbs lightly played with the short hairs at the nape of his neck. You looked at him, your lips dangling a mere inch away from his. You could feel his steady breath fanning over your mouth, making your lips tingle with soul-burning want.

Why the hell were your lips tingling with want? Oh, god. Your face burned with a furious, internal heat as your eyes helplessly locked onto his mouth. Both of your chests heaved, brushing against one another in the water.

“I am not your real wife, Thor,” you breathed out, trying desperately to ground yourself. “I don’t need you touching me every five seconds—”

“I don’t need anyone here thinking you are available.”

“What?” you whispered, your heart giving a massive flutter against your ribs.

“Fake or not, Little Flame,” he growled softly, his blue eyes turning incredibly dark as his grip on your thighs tightened. “I am your fucking husband, and every man on this island will know it. I will make sure of it.”

He smirked, and before you could even process his words, he leaned in and pressed a firm, lingering kiss directly to your flushed cheek. You gasped in absolute shock, your skin scorching where his lips met your face. As he pulled back just a fraction, your noses brushed. You looked directly into his eyes, feeling yourself grow hotter and hotter and hotter—

“My honorary guests! You made it!”

A booming, boisterous voice suddenly erupted from above you. You both snapped your heads up, startled out of the suffocating bubble, and saw Alejandro Moretti himself standing on the pool deck. He was smiling down at the two of you, his arms spread wide in a grand, welcoming gesture.

You aggressively cleared your throat, your training forcing you to seamlessly recover. “Hello, Mr. Moretti. It's a pleasure to meet you,” you said, forcing a dazzling smile as you introduced yourself and extended a wet hand up toward the him.

He immediately took it, bowing his head slightly. “It is my absolute pleasure,” he said warmly. “You are the wife of the mighty Thor, after all!” He chuckled loudly, before turning his glowing gaze entirely back to Thor. “Big fan, man. Big fan.”

Moretti extended his hand toward him, and Thor took it, a wide, proud smile immediately breaking across his face because he was being praised. God, he absolutely loved being praised, didn't he?

Moretti started talking rapidly, listing off Thor’s various accomplishments while keeping a firm, enthusiastic grip on his hand. Rolling your eyes privately, you used the distraction to unwrap your legs from Thor's waist, pulling yourself off his torso and slipping back into the water.

The moment you detached yourself, Thor's hand snapped out, tightening firmly around your wrist. He immediately tore his attention away from Moretti, looking down at you. “Where are you going, sweetheart?”

The casual nickname made your entire stomach flutter dangerously.

“Gonna go dry off, honey,” you said, matching his energy as you pulled yourself up slightly to plant a swift, fake peck on his cheek. “Just a bit cold.”

“I will come with you,” Thor insisted immediately, his cheek burninh as his eyes tracking your movement.

“Ah, newlyweds,” Moretti chuckled fondly at the display, shaking his head. “Always so full of love, am I right?”

You gave him a dry, polite chuckle and quickly swam toward the pool steps to get out. As you and Thor stepped onto the stone deck, grabbing your towels, Moretti walked right alongside you, refusing to leave Thor’s side for even a single second. It was like he wanted Thor all to himself.

How can someone not want him, though? the thought involuntarily slipped into your mind.

You froze dead in your tracks, your towel clutched tightly in your hands as your own mind echoed back to you.

No. You did not want him. Certainly not. You didn't, you couldn't—

You closed your eyes, letting out a long, defeated sigh.

You fucking wanted him. And he could never know.

—

You were getting ready, painting a sharp, precise wing of black eyeliner over your eyelid as you desperately tried to keep yourself intact.

Moretti had invited the both of you to the exclusive resort party taking place tonight. Well, you were going to go either way for the sake of the mission, but he had explicitly invited you as his honorary guests.

After the you realizedthat you actually wanted Thor, you had started to see him in an entirely different light. You had felt physically nauseous by the fact that you wanted him, wanting nothing more than to run back to the villa to self-reflect and figure out exactly where your life had gone wrong. But he had not left you alone for a single second. The moment you had said you were going to the room, he had immediately gotten up and followed you back to the room. He had looked so genuinely caring while doing it, which only made an unwelcome swarm of butterflies erupt in your stomach. And the fact that he looked so so good—

Ugh, you were doing it again.

“Are you ready, Little Flame?” came Thor’s deep voice from behind the bathroom door.

You took one good look at yourself in the mirror, your gaze traveling down from your flawless makeup to the white midi dress that hugged your curves perfectly, down to your elegant heeled sandals. You looked hot. Absolutely lethal.

You swung the bathroom door open, only to be hit dead-on with the sight of him waiting in the foyer.

His lips parted, falling slightly agape as his eyes traveled over you, taking you in. His towering, formidable frame was clad in tailored cream linen trousers and a crisp white linen shirt, finished with beige loafers.

Your heart stopped dead in your chest. Was he actively trying to kill you? He was already breathtakingly handsome on a regular day, but the fact that he was dressing like that was doing completely unspeakable things to your sanity.

Thor felt the air brutally ripped from his lungs the exact second you emerged. His blue eyes aggressively roamed over your face, your sharp eyeliner, and the way the white dress accentuated your flawless form. Now, why the hell did you have to look like this and still have the absolute audacity to hate him?

His breathing became distinctly ragged, his eyes darkening to a stormy, dangerous hue as the possessive thought of other men witnessing your beauty tonight overtook his mind. But he forced his muscles to relax as he reminded himself that this hotel was strictly full of wealthy couples. It was fine. You were anchored to him. Right?

“Let’s go, big guy,” you said, averting your gaze in absolute panic as you brushed past his broad shoulder and made your way out of the villa.

Thor’s eyebrows shot up in utter bewilderment. He stood frozen for a second before turning to follow you out onto the stone path closing the door behind him, his voice clearly dripping with a deep, rumbling amusement. “Big guy?”

Your face burned a scorching, furious hot at your own slip of the tongue. You usually never called him anything other than petty names specifically engineered to irritate him, so what the fuck was that now?

“You... are massive. And a man?” you stammered out, desperately trying to make light of the situation as you walked ahead of him, your heels clicking sharply.

“Hm,” Thor just grunted behind you. You couldn't see his face, but you could hear the triumphant smile in his voice as the two of you made your way down toward dinner.

The revelation that you were actually attracted to him was making you go completely crazy, and you were already fucking it all up. Your brain was entirely short-circuiting over how mind-numbingly handsome he looked in that white linen shirt, and calling him big guy of all things was proof that you were losing your edge. All through dinner, you were on high alert, desperately trying to hide your lingering glimpses toward his muscular arms and his stupidly handsome face, praying he wouldn't notice the sudden shift in your behavior.

Dinner itself had been an exercise in damage control. Thor had absolutely loved the food, boisterously shouting “Another!” to the waitstaff every time he finished a plate, leaving you to look at the waiters with highly apologetic eyes. You had quickly smoothed it over, telling them with a charming laugh how incredibly enthusiastic your husband was about their exquisite cuisine. Far from being offended, the staff had been completely fascinated by Thor, even asking for his signature—though the poor guys couldn't take any pictures due to the resort's strict high-society privacy policy.

Once dinner was finally over, you made your way to the actual party.

The bass from the music blasted your ears off the second you walked through the entrance. Thor’s heavy hand was firmly circled around your waist, gluing you to his side as you looked around the crowded open-air venue. You bit your lip, doing everything in your power to mask your fastened heartbeat and the slight panic tracing your expression. To maintain the doting newlyweds facade, your own arm was stretched across Thor’s broad back.

And god, how magnificent that back was. Through the thin linen of his shirt, you could feel the solid, dangerous planes of his muscles right beneath your palm. It made you wonder, in a rogue, intrusive thought, if you could paint that flawless skin red with your nails, leaving little scratches down his—

oh my god, shut up, girl, you fiercely scolded yourself in your mind, your face flashing a blistering hot.

As you walked deeper into the VIP section toward Alejandro Moretti’s table, you spotted Valentin right next to him.

The exact millisecond Valentin came into view, you could feel every single muscle in Thor’s body tense up beneath your hand. Pure instinct took over, you gave the small of his back a soft, deliberate little squeeze, a silent warning to stay grounded.

The touch made Thor instantly look down at you, his blue eyes full of an intense, sweeping emotion you couldn't quite name. Your mind raced. Why the fuck were you trying to calm him down? And why the hell was he getting so intensely tense in the first place?

“Don’t make a scene,” you whispered fiercely up to him, looking at him through your lashes as you kept your voice strictly beneath the thumping bass.

“Do not make me make a scene,” he grumbled back, his deep voice heavily unpleased as his grip on your waist tightened.

Alejandro Moretti immediately got up from his leather booth the moment he saw you approach. “Ah! Here they are!” he announced loudly, his arms thrown wide open in a grand greeting.

Thor smiled brightly, his deep, booming laugh filling your ears as he stepped forward to enthusiastically embrace the billionaire, playing the part of the larger-than-life husband a little too well. You let out a bright, airy laugh right on cue, looking up at them as you seamlessly executed the role of the loving, supportive wife.

From across the table, Valentin was staring directly at you, a confident, knowing smirk pulling at his lips.

Alejandro turned proudly to his younger brother, gesturing toward the two of you. “My guests of honor, Valentin! This is Thor, and his lovely wife.”

Valentin’s dark eyebrows furrowed in immediate confusion. “Thor?”

“Yes! The God of Thunder!” Alejandro chuckled heartily, totally oblivious to the shift in the air as he gestured for everyone to sit down.

The arrogant smirk was instantly wiped entirely off Valentin’s face. He stood frozen, likely wondering how the hell he hadn't recognized the literal Avenger at the pool bar earlier.

“Ah,” Valentin cleared his throat, cautiously extending his hand across the table, even as Thor threw absolute, unyielding daggers at him with his icy gaze. “My pleasure.”

Thor’s lips pulled into a wide, bright smile as he reached out and took Valentin’s hand. But you knew that exact smile entirely too well—it was the predatory, sharp-edged smile he regularly threw at you whenever you managed to annoy him to death in public. It was the smile of a Thor who was profoundly angry, masking his rage with a lethally graceful diplomacy.

His godlike grip must have tightened a fraction too much around Valentin’s fingers, because the smug playboy’s face instantly grimaced in pain, his knuckles turning white under the force of the god’s hand.

You tapped lightly on Thor’s elbow, giving him a subtle, pointed signal to let go before he completely pulverized the man's hand. He finally released his grip, though his blue eyes continued to burn right through Valentin, his other arm instantly wrapping tight around your waist again to pull you back into his orbit.

You went to sit down in the plush leather booth, but Thor deliberately shuffled his massive frame, placing himself directly between you and Valentin to completely block the playboy's line of sight. You rolled your eyes privately. He was obviously being this intensely possessive because the entire resort had to believe you were blissfully married, but he was playing the part a little too well for your sanity.

Alejandro, ever the fanboy, was visibly disappointed by the seating arrangement—he was now sitting on your other side instead of right next to the God of Thunder—but he stopped himself from saying anything to avoid offending his royal guest.

So began the endless praises for Thor.

“I must say, King Thor, having you here at the Sanctuary is a historic honor!” Alejandro beamed, gesturing for a waiter to pour more whiskey. “The stories of your victories on Earth, the Battle of New York, the triumph over Malekith... truly spectacular! A god walking among mortals!”

Thor smiled brightly, his booming laugh easily cutting through the lounge music as his arm remained locked securely around your waist, his thumb lazily stroking your side through the fabric of your dress. “Ah, you are too kind, Alejandro! But a King must protect the realms. The battle against the Dark Elves was indeed a fierce one, requiring absolute precision and power.”

As he spoke the word precision, Thor casually leaned back, his icy gaze flicking past you to check if Valentin was looking at you. Finding Valentin’s eyes darting toward your bare shoulders, Thor’s grip on your waist tightened possessively, his jaw clenching as he seamlessly continued his story. “We had to secure ancient, dangerous technologies to ensure they never fell into the wrong hands. It takes a truly formidable force to handle such secrets.”

“Incredible,” Alejandro said, hanging on his every word. “And to manage such cosmic feats while keeping a beautiful wife by your side!”

“She is my greatest anchor,” Thor murmured, his deep voice dropping into a low tone as he turned his head to look down at you. His eyes searched your face with a burning, unreadable intensity that made your heart skip a violent beat. “No matter how chaotic the universe becomes, she is the only one who can truly command my attention.”

You gulped, your eyes helplessly searching his face, desperately trying to read the heavy gravity in his expression. But before you could decipher it, a question cut through the air—one you should have anticipated much sooner.

“So, how did you two meet?” Valentin asked, his voice smooth as he leaned forward. His dark eyes actively tried to find your frame past Thor's broad shoulders, but Thor was absolutely wiping you from his sight, shifting his weight to keep you entirely hidden.

Your blood ran cold. A sudden wave of panic rushed through you, and as you snapped your eyes to Thor, you saw the exact same flash of panic mirrored in his blue eyes. You had never rehearsed a backstory.

“I saw him—” you began hastily, just as Thor started, “We saw each other—”

Your voices mixed awkwardly over the thumping bass of the music. Alejandro looked between the two of you expectantly, his eyebrows raised.

You quickly forced a light, melodic laugh, covering the slip-up as you spoke over each other. Tilting your head up, you offered Thor a brilliant, adoring smile. “My husband should tell you about this one. He’s a real good storyteller, aren't you, darling?” You squeezed his shoulder, your fingers digging into his shirt.

Thor’s hold tightened around your waist, his thumb pressing firmly into your side. “I must let you take over this one, my dear. Your perspective is far more enchanting.”

“I insist,” you said, your voice dripping sweet as honey, though you locked eyes with him in a silent, lethal challenge. You knew pushing the spotlight onto him annoyed him to his absolute core.

“Very well,” he grumbled under his breath, leaning back into the booth. He cleared his throat, his posture shifting into something commanding. Valentin had slid over a bit to the side of the table, desperate to finally see you both, his sharp eyes intensely dissecting the two of you for any cracks in the facade.

“We met years ago, when she was first recruited to the team,” Thor began, his deep baritone rumbling through his chest. He paused, his blue eyes dropping down to look at you, the heavy lounge music suddenly fading into absolute background noise. “I saw her walk into the room. A beautiful woman. Truly, the most breathtaking creature I had ever laid my eyes upon.”

You looked up at him, fully expecting to see a detached, calculated look in his eyes—the face of a soldier executing a calculated lie. But your heart slammed against your ribs. You were shaken to your core at the raw, truthful look in his gaze. Your breath hitched, turning ragged in your chest.

He chuckled softly, the sound low and intimate, as if he had completely forgotten Alejandro and Valentin were even sitting across from them. “But she looked like she had dark, stormy clouds swarming all over her. She was so heavily guarded. So, my brain short-circuited, and I called her gloomy.”

Alejandro’s eyes widened, a grin breaking across his face. “No way!”

Your jaw clenched as the vivid memory made your blood boil all over again. Why the fuck was he telling them what actually happened?

“I know, I shouldn't have,” Thor murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. His gaze was burning into you, scorching you with a look that made your skin prickle. “But seeing her face... my mind simply stopped working. That was the only thing I could utter. And do you know what she did?” He looked over at Alejandro, a genuine, fond smile pulling at his lips. “She didn't cower. She didn't stay silent. She yelled at me. She marched right up to my face and screamed about what a massive, insufferable asshole I was.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in deep, defensive confusion. Wht was he chuckling about that? He had hated you for it.

“She was the first woman to ever yell at me like that, without a single shred of fear, without holding back an ounce of her fire,” Thor said, his voice a raspy register, thick with a devotion that felt terrifyingly real. He reached down, his large hand gently cupping the side of your face, his thumb softly tracing your cheekbone. The tender touch sent a violent jolt of electricity straight down your spine. “That’s when I realized... right there, in the middle of her fury. That’s when I realized she was the love of my life.”

You gulped, your hands clenching into tight fists against your lap. The air was brutally ripped from your lungs. You literally couldn't breathe under the sheer weight of his stare. He was looking down at you as if you were the most precious, sacred thing he had ever been allowed to hold.

“Then, I chased her for years,” Thor continued smoothly, finally tearing his gaze away from your frozen face to smile at Alejandro. “Trying to get her to agree to a single date. I brought flowers to her quarters every single day, trying to melt the ice. She finally caved in after a while... and here we are.”

Thor cleared his throat letting go of your face and adjusting his shirt as Alejandro let out a captivated sigh.

Your gaze remained completely stuck on the line of Thor's neck, your mind spinning in absolute confusion. He had sounded so entirely sincere when he described your beauty. The way he explained falling in love with your fire, it sounded like poetry.

He isn't in love with you, a harsh, grounding voice violently intervened in your mind. He is lying through his teeth to save the mission. He made it all up. You desperately tried to pull yourself together, reciting the mantra over and over: He hates you. He has hated you for years.

But as you sat there, enveloped in the heat of his massive body, a sharp ache bloomed deep in your chest at the reminder of his hatred.

Why did your chest ache at his hatred towards you? And why did it hurt so bad?

“That is just beautiful,” Alejandro breathed, raising his glass in a toast. “A match made in the heavens, truly.”

You swallowed the thick lump in your throat, forcefully shaking the daze out of your head. Forcing your muscles to relax, you put on a flawless, dazzling smile for show, leaning deeper into your fake husband's side while your heart shattered quietly into a million pieces.

The subject changed then, Alejandro and Thor talking about other things while Thor gave you occasional little pecks on your cheek, his lips lingering just enough to keep your heart beating frantically in your mouth.

“Why haven't you two kissed?” Valentin asked suddenly, his voice sharply cutting through the conversation of the two men. His dark eyes roamed all over your face, calculating and deeply skeptical.

What?

Thor turned toward him immediately, his posture shifting into something lethal. “What do you mean, mortal? I’ve been doing nothing but kiss her since we sat down.” His blue eyes narrowed into dangerous slits at Valentin.

“You keep kissing her on her cheeks. Why not on the lips?” Valentin pushed, his gaze sharp and dissecting.

Thor’s gaze darkened to absolute midnight. “It is not your place to ask such questions.”

The playboy had been watching you far too closely; you should’ve seen this one coming. Valentin leaned back, a smug, accusatory grin slowly returning to his face. “You’re acting like you’re pretending—”

Your heart stopped dead in your chest.

“Do not speak one more word, mortal,” Thor spoke, his deep voice dropping an octave as he raised a single, threatening finger.

Alejandro’s expression changed instantly. He looked at his brother with sudden seriousness, his tone sharp. “Leave our guests alone, Val.” But then, Alejandro’s eyes dropped down to the floor for a split second, as if he were mentally calculating something. He turned back toward you, his brow furrowing. “But... he is right. Why haven't you kissed her?”

Your heart started beating faster and faster, a wave of ice-cold panic rushing to your fingertips. Your cover was about to be completely blown right here in the VIP section. Thor’s gaze darkened even further, clearly unpleased and deeply tense at being questioned. This was not good. You had to do something, and you had to do it right now.

“She is my wife—” Thor started angrily, but you smoothly interfered.

With an effortless, confident laugh, you dismissed the two brothers with a casual wave of your hand, acting as if they were nothing more than little, annoying flies. Your left hand found Thor’s massive bicep as you elegantly crossed your legs, slanting them directly over his thick thighs.

Responding to the sudden contact, Thor's arm instinctively wrapped around your back, his eyes snapping down to look at you immediately. What were you doing?

“My husband and I are very passionate,” you said, your voice dripping with a sultry, unbothered confidence as your hand trailed seductively over the broad expanse of his chest. “We try to keep the PDA to a minimum so we don't make people uncomfortable. Should we show them, honey?”

You looked completely unshakable, but inside, your heart was threatening to leap straight out of your chest. The skin of your legs burned where your thighs were glued to his.

Thor’s chest heaved tightly beneath your fingers as you looked up at him through your lashes. His heart missed a beat at the breathtaking sight of you in his lap. Fuck. You both knew exactly what had to be done right now, or the entire mission was over.

Thor’s large hand found the back of your neck, his fingers tightening securely. “Music to my fucking ears, darling,” he growled.

And then, he claimed your lips in an instant. The force of the impact took the remaining breath right out of your lungs. Your left hand instinctively grabbed the back of his neck, your fingers anchoring into his skin, while your other hand remained flat against his heaving chest. Your mouths moved in tandem, a low, helpless sigh of contentment pouring from your throat straight into the kiss. Your head tilted to the side, completely surrendering to the heat.

His right hand on your back slid downward to your waist, grabbing you with an iron, desperate tightness, as if he never intended to let you go for the rest of his immortal life. His other hand moved from the back of your neck up to your head, his thick fingers tangling aggressively through your hair, tilting your face up by giving a firm, sudden tug on your hair. You gasped into his mouth, your teeth sharply biting his lower lip in response. Thor let out a low grunt, his kisses instantly becoming more fervent, deeper, and completely unhinged. You were drowning in him.

Next to you, Alejandro and Valentin looked at each other, their faces flushing as they clearly regretted ever opening their mouths. They were visibly uncomfortable—good. They deserved to be, so they would never question a single thing about the two of you again.

He was entirely consuming you, and gods, was he liking it. He felt the soft circle of your thumb over the nape of his neck, sending a violent wave of chills straight down his spine. You tasted sweet—sweeter than any other lips he had ever tasted in his thousand years of life. Thor licked at the seam of your lips once, a non-verbal command motioning for you to open up for him. You tried to fight it for a split second, a last shred of self-preservation, but he forcefully made you part them by giving your lower lip another sharp bite and executing a firm tug on your hair.

You gasped, your chest heaving against his as he glided his tongue over yours. He was so good at this. So fucking good that you completely forgot where you were, forgot the mission, forgot anyone else existed besides him. He tugged tightly on your waist, trying to pull your body even closer into his mass, but you were already entirely glued to him, his radiating heat burning straight through your side.

Alejandro loudly cleared his throat, but you both kept on going like there was no tomorrow, still kissing him with a desperate, hidden hunger, as if you knew you would never get the chance to hold him like this ever again.

“Okay. We get it,” Valentin muttered, his voice clearly irritated and completely full of deep regret.

Thor let out a heavy grunt, finally parting his lips from yours. A thin, glistening string of saliva formed between your lips before breaking in the dim light. You looked up at him, your eyes completely dazed over, your hair beautifully messed up from his heavy hand, and your lips visibly swollen and red. He stared down at you, his own lips flushed and his pupils blown incredibly wide as his chest rose and fell in ragged breaths.

Taking a shallow breath, you slowly turned your head toward the other two men, a wicked, victorious smile pulling at your lips. “See?” you said.

You tried not to give away how much his kiss had affected you, but you knew you were a fucking mess. Your heart was threatening to leap out of your chest, your lungs heaving fast as you gulped, desperately trying to calm yourself down. How the hell did he affect you this much?

And he was still holding you, his arm wrapped incredibly tight around your waist as he kept looking down at you. His own broad chest was heaving hard as he fought a losing battle to get himself back under control.

It was just a damn kiss for the mission. He shouldn't be this completely unhinged by it. But he felt his pulse fasten more and more the longer he sat there. You had kissed him. You—the bane of his very existence, the woman who had spent years yelling at him and riling him up—had kissed him, and he had liked it. He had liked it so much that a dark, primitive part of his mind wanted nothing more than to drag you right back to his lips, to kiss you heavily until you were breathless, and to roam his hands all over your bare skin, thats all—nothing big really.

He fucking wanted you, and it was nothing big—who was he kidding? It was probably the biggest newsflash in his entire thousand-year lifetime. He wanted you so much that he felt it shaking the very foundations of his immortal soul.

I want her, his mind echoed fiercely. I want her, I want to consume her, I want to be completely consumed by her.

Thor averted his eyes toward the table, his jaw locking. Fuck. How the hell did this happen?

“Yes, we get it, damn,” Alejandro said, breaking the heavy silence with a loud laugh, holding his hands up in surrender.

Valentin, however, was a completely different story. His dark, calculating gaze was still locked dead on your face, intensely trying to decipher the lingering daze in your eyes, trying to see if there was still a crack in the armor—if he could keep on pursuing you.

You noticed his stare immediately, your eyes locking onto his. A sharp jolt of reality hit you. You were sitting in Thor's lap, your thighs crossed over his, kissed by him so thoroughly that your mind had gone entirely blank. You had completely forgotten about your objective.

The codes. You needed the damn digital decryption keys.

You had told Thor earlier that you would handle Valentin tomorrow, but after the possessive display he had just put on, he would clearly find a way to interfere if you tried to flirt with the man tomorrow. It had to be tonight. It had to happen right now under the cover of this party.

Your mind rapidly formulated a plan: you had to first find a way to get away from Thor, corner Valentin alone at the bar, seduce him, and slip a few drops of truth serum into his whiskey glass to extract the server access codes.

It was a perfect, textbook assassin execution. But as you sat there, feeling the heavy, protective weight of Thor's hand on your hip, you realized something. You didn't want to leave the comfort of Thor's embrace.

Oh, how thoroughly, hopelessly fucked you were.

You had to get it together. Bracing yourself, you tried lifting your legs off Thor’s lap, but the exact second you shifted, his iron hold on your waist tightened. His eyebrows furrowed into a hard line, and his questioning, blazing blue gaze snapped up to lock onto yours. He didn’t say a word, but the look in his eyes was loudly demanding to know exactly where the hell you thought you were going.

Why was he acting like this? Why was he looking at you as if that kiss had completely unhinged him just as much as it had affected you?

You helplessly looked into his eyes, your gaze involuntarily dropping down to his swollen lips before snapping back up to his stare. “I’m just going to the bar,” you murmured.

“I’ll come with you,” he said immediately. His deep voice carried a rough, unyielding edge, his instincts focusing entirely on one single objective: keep that vile mortal fucker as far away from you as humanly possible.

“No!—” you scrambled out, a little too desperately, before quickly forcing a soft, reassuring smile to maintain the act. “I’ll be back in a second, honey. It’s okay.”

This felt devastatingly real. He looked genuinely jealous, his possessive aura radiating off him in suffocating waves.

“She can go alone, my friend. I own this entire establishment; nothing could possibly happen to her here,” Alejandro intervened with a booming laugh, reassuring the tense god.

Taking the opening, you carefully slipped out of Thor’s tight grip and stood up. The sudden lack of his heavy hands and burning heat against your skin left you feeling instantly cold, a sudden pang of withdrawal hitting you in the chest. You stubbornly ignored it. Catching Valentin’s eye across the table, you held his gaze for a few seconds longer than any happily married woman ever should, throwing him a subtle, inviting tilt of your head before turning on your heel and making your way toward the crowded bar—finally out of Thor’s direct line of sight.

You knew Valentin would make up a pathetic excuse to follow you within minutes. Arriving at the bar, you caught the bartender’s attention. “A virgin mojito, please,” you ordered smoothly. You were a professional; you were absolutely not going to consume a single drop of alcohol while on an active extraction mission.

You waited for a few minutes, slowly sipping on your refreshing mocktail while keeping your perimeter scan active. Right on cue, a smooth, arrogant voice slithered in next to your ear.

“I take it you didn’t look at me like that back there just to have a drink all by yourself?”

Valentin slid onto the barstool right next to you, his eyes brimming with a smug, predatory confidence.

A slow, practiced smirk pulled at your lips as you gracefully turned your upper body toward him, leaning one elbow against the counter. “I don’t think I get what you mean, Valentin.”

“Don’t play innocent. It’s not a good look on you,” he murmured, his eyes boldly dropping down to the neckline of your dress before rising back to your face. “Though, I must admit... I really like this whole going-around-his-back thing. A dangerous woman gets me thrilled.”

“Hm,” you mumbled, your smile becoming as beautiful and lethal as a viper's. You leaned in a fraction closer into his personal space, letting your voice drop into a sultry, confidential whisper. “Are you just going to stand there talking, or are you gonna have a drink with me?”

Valentin’s smirk widened, completely intoxicated by the sudden green light. “I could never say no to a woman like you.” He immediately raised a hand to the bartender. “Get me a double Macallan, neat.”

As the bartender turned around to pour the amber liquor, you covertly slid your right hand into the small, hidden pocket built into the lining of your white midi dress. Your fingertips brushed against the tiny, cold glass vial containing S.H.I.E.L.D.-issued truth serum—colorless, odorless, and fast-acting.

The bartender placed the heavy crystal whiskey glass right in front of Valentin.

“You know,” you purred, deliberately reaching across Valentin's chest to grab a small bowl of nuts from the opposite side of his stool. The intentional movement forced your bare shoulder to brush heavily against his chest, completely breaking his concentration as his eyes locked onto your neck.

With a fluid, invisible grace, your thumb flicked the cap off the vial. As your arm crossed over his open whiskey glass, you seamlessly dropped three drops of the serum directly into the amber liquid.

You pulled back, placing the bowl between you with an innocent, dazzling smile. “A toast. To private tastings.”

“To private tastings,” Valentin echoed darkly, completely oblivious. He picked up the crystal glass and took a massive, confident gulp of the whiskey, swallowing the serum down in one smooth motion.

You counted the seconds in your head. Three. Two. One.

Almost instantly, Valentin’s posture relaxed a fraction too much. The sharp, predatory spark in his eyes suddenly dulled into a slight, hazy glaze, his blinking slowing down as the neural inhibitors rapidly flooded his system, forcing his vocal cords to lose all capacity for deception.

Your smirk turned razor-sharp. It was time to get to work.

“Valentin,” you whispered, leaning in so close your breath brushed his ear, masking your interrogation beneath the thumping bass of the party. “Let’s talk about your brother’s collection. Where are the digital decryption keys for the Dark Elf technology stored?”

Valentin’s jaw loosened, his voice coming out completely flat, devoid of its previous arrogant inflection. “The main encryption drive stays locked in the master server vault... sub-level two of the main villa compound. Hold on why are you asking me th—”

“And how do I bypass the biometric firewall?” you cut him off before he could think.

“The security bypass code changes every twelve hours,” Valentin droned automatically, his hand resting limply against the counter.

“Mhm, and what is it lets say... tomorrow night?” you pushed seamlessly, your eyes locked onto his dazed face.

“Tomorrow night's terminal override sequence for the vault is... Alpha-Niner-Seven-X-Ray-Delta.”

Bingo.

Your brain instantly memorized the alphanumeric sequence, a cold, triumphant rush of adrenaline flooding your veins. You had the codes for tomorrow. The entire mission could be wrapped up in less than three days, just like you wanted. You could finally leave this godforsaken resort, get away from this cover, and most importantly—get away from the dangerous, addictive pull of the God of Thunder.

Valentin pouted as he looked at you, his eyes glassy and confused under the weight of the serum. "But why are you asking me all th—"

“I have to go, dear,” you cut him off quickly, placing a hand on his bicep and giving it a soothing squeeze to keep him compliant.

But his hand snapped up, gripping your arm to keep you from pulling away. “No, you can't leave. I had plans for us tonight...”

“No plans for us today,” you cooed, lowering your voice to a soft, hypnotic purr as you playfully booped his nose. He pouted even more at the gesture. You mentally rolled your eyes, already looking back toward the crowded VIP booth to check on Thor.

“But I wanted to fuck you—“

You whipped your head back toward Valentin so fast you thought you were going to get whiplash. But before you could even react to his crude words, he was brutally cut off.

A massive hand descended from the shadows like a falling meteor, wrapping entirely around the back of Valentin’s head and fiercely slamming his face straight down onto the marble counter.

Crack.

You gasped, your eyes blowing wide. Nearby guests screamed and immediately scrambled away, completely shocked by the sudden, violent ordeal. Valentin let out a pathetic, muffled groan as a dark stream of red instantly started dripping down his nostrils, pooling on the counter.

Thor held him pinned there, his massive hand basically covering most of Valentin's skull. You were so damn sure that if he applied just a fraction more pressure, he would crush the man's head like a ripe grape.

“You do not talk to my wife like that,” Thor growled, his voice a vibrating rumble that shook the very foundation of the bar.

“Thor, stop it!” you panicked, your hands desperately finding his rigid bicep, trying to pull his arm back.

Muffled against the stone, Valentin let out a wet, dizzy chuckle, the serum making him completely reckless. “Well, god-man... your wife lured me here—“

Slam.

Thor violently cracked his head against the counter a second time.

“I told you not to make a scene, didn't I?!”you yelled at the top of your lungs over the blasting music, frantically pulling at his arm to stop him from committing murder.

Thor slowly turned his head to look down at you. His blue eyes were completely blown with an unhinged, primitive rage. “I told you not to make me make one, did I not?!” he yelled back, his booming voice completely overriding the bass of the blasting lounge music.

You involuntarily flinched at the volume and raw power of his voice. You let out a sharp, furious huff, tore your hands off his arm, and turned around to bolt.

“Where do you think you're going?!” he demanded loudly.

He finally let go of Valentin, leaving theman to groan and slump heavily against the bar as you made your way out of the party. Every single eye of the high-society couples was locked onto you, whispering in terror as you stormed past.

“Stop!” Thor yelled after you, his heavy footsteps echoing right behind you, but your steps only fastened into a dead sprint.

You practically flew down the dark, stone paths of the resort, making your way back to the secluded villa. There wasn't a single soul around out here.

“I told you to stop!” he yelled again, his massive strides easily closing the distance as he caught up to you just as you reached the front door.

“And I told you to behave!” you screamed back, throwing the door open and slamming it behind you, desperately trying to force the heavy wood to lock on his face.

But you failed miserably.

“And I told you to stay away from him!” Thor yelled, forcing the door open without a single shred of effort—it was probably like flicking away a fly for him—before he aggressively slammed it shut behind him, sealing the two of you inside the tense silence of the villa.

“Why do you care?!” you yelled, throwing your arms up in the air as you spun around to face him, your face burning hot from rage.

“Why did you defy what I told you?” he pushed, stepping heavily into your personal space, his towering chest heaving.

“Because you are my mission partner, not my superior!”you shrieked, the built-up frustration of the last few hours completely boiling over. “God! You and your insufferable superiority complex!” You yelled again, aggressively turning your back to him to get away from his presence, making a beeline toward the balcony doors.

“Do not walk away from me!” Thor roared.

In two quick strides, he crossed the room. His hand locked firmly around your wrist, his grip unyielding but careful not to break you, as he yanked you back and turned you around to face him dead-on.

You opened your mouth to say something, but all words completely left you as you noticed how your noses were inches away, your breathing fastening to a panicked, ragged rhythm as you looked up at him. His chest was heaving just like yours, the sheer mass of him completely crowding you into the balcony's door. You just gulped, your eyes helplessly finding his lips again before you forced your gaze up to meet his intense stare.

“Why are you acting like you actually care?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly, your eyes filled with deep questioning. His eyes, which were locked onto your lips, finally flicked up to look directly into your eyes. He gulped, a muscle tightening in his jaw as he flatly lied, “I don’t.” He averted his eyes immediately after.

He cared. He fucking cared so much, but he could not let you know.

You scoffed loudly at his terrible deflection. “What’s all this then? You’ve been acting so strange since we got here—” His eyes snapped right back to yours, flashing with a sudden heat. “Oh, like you haven’t!” he said, his iron grip on your wrist tightening just a bit.

“What?” you gaped, your mouth forming a perfect 'O' shape at his audacity. “The nerve of you! I have been acting completely normal!” You aggressively tried to push against his heavy chest to create some distance, but it was like trying to shove a solid brick wall; it was not working.

“Have you, though?” he challenged. His head tilted slightly to the side as he looked down at you, his towering frame completely casting you in shadow. “You’ve been trying to avoid me ever since we arrived. Mind you, we are supposed to be husband and wife here, and instead of me, you kept throwing yourself into the arms of that bastard—”

“Excuse me for acting exactly like I should while we are on a high-stakes mission—”

“Is this how you act while you are on a mission?” he fiercely cut you off. He took a heavy, deliberate step forward, crowding you so completely that you were forced to push your back straight into the balcony door, the glass cool against your skin. His expression morphed into one of deep distaste—like the mere thought of you acting exactly like this on other operations disturbed him to his very bone.

“Not at all, Thor,” you muttered, finally averting your eyes as a wave of genuine discomfort washed over your face. “But I occasionally do have to seduce men here and there. It’s not a big deal—”

His thick eyebrows furrowed deeply. Before you could turn your face away completely, his large hand came up, his fingers gently but firmly catching your chin to force you to look at him. “Not a big deal? Is someone making you seduce them? There are other ways to extract information—” he started, his deep tone initially angry but quickly softening with a rare, unexpected touch of sympathy.

You swallowed hard against the lump in your throat. “Thor, I have been trained this way. And your ways are always too loud—”

“Who the fuck trained you like this?” he growled, the symapthy instantly vanishing into a dark, protective fury. “How many times have you done this, huh?”

Your own eyebrows furrowed in a defensive shield. His entire ftame was looming over you, completely clouding your thoughts and making it hard to think straight. You reached up, removing his hand from your face. “That is absolutely none of your business—”

His entire posture changed as the anger morphed into a heavy gravity. His eyes dropped to your arms first then followed to your midriff before snapping back to your face. “Who gave you those scars?”

“What?” Your eyes widened in pure horror, the air instantly taken right out of your lungs. This cannot be happening, your voice echoed inside your mind. He could not know. You could not let him see that vulnerable, broken piece of your past. “Thor, this is ridiculous. Let me go—”

You tried pushing him away again, your chest heaving in absolute desperation to break free from his hold. But he only used his mass to pin you into the door even more, his gaze intensely determined as his hand found your jaw once again, holding you still.

He was going to find out who those fuckers were, and he was going to make them pay. He didn't fully understand why he had this overwhelming, primitive urge to protect you, but he did, and he was going to deliver on it.

“Please, Little Flame,” he murmured, his voice dropping into a desperate plea. “Are they the same people who trained you?—”

“Why do you even want to know?!” you cried out, your voice finally cracking with deep pain. Tears instantly began brewing in your eyes, blurring his handsome face. He couldn't know. If he found out, he was going to use that knowledge against you. He was going to taunt you with it during your next argument, break you with your own nightmare of a history. He was going to make sure he hurt you, just like he did every single time he managed to get a glimpse of something personal about you. He was going to break your heart completely in half and toss it away.

He was going to, because he was the only person in the universe who actually had the power to do it.

“So you can torture me more?” you whispered, your voice shaking as a single tear escaped down your cheek.

Thor’s breath got caught in his throat. A sudden, physical pain pierced his chest, wrapping around his heart so tightly that he let out a sharp huff of air. It was a pain so great, so profoundly agonizing, that it started burning through his lungs before radiating all the way out to his fingertips.

Is this truly what you thought of him?

He knew he taunted you. He knew he did everything in his being to annoy you on a daily basis. He knew he wasn't your friend, and that you both claimed to dislike each other. But he had never, in his wildest dreams, thought you could actually think him capable of causing you real, deep-rooted pain.

A fierce, protective fire burned brightly behind his blue eyes as he leaned down, his lips practically brushing your temple as he spoke.

“So that I can torture them first as they did you,” he vowed, his voice low, terrifyingly dark promise that vibrated against your skin. “And then permanently remove them from existence.”

Your angelic face twisted into a look of deep, utter confusion. What the hell was he talking about? Why on Earth would he want to do something like that for you?

Thor’s hand softened on your jaw, his thumb gently wiping away the tear on your cheek with a heartbreaking amount of tenderness. He looked down at you, his pupils blown wide with an unyielding devotion. “No... I have a better idea. I am going to tear down whatever sanctuary they think they have, drag them to the deepest pits of Hel myself, and hand-deliver a punishment that will last for eternity. No one touches you, Little Flame. Never again.”

Your heart stuttered at his words, newfound tears completely blocking your vision now at being on the receiving end of them. He sounded so profoundly sincere, so entirely full of devotion that it made your stomach flutter wildly and your heart sing with a bittersweet ecstasy.

Why was he being this protective over you? Was it just because of your mission? Has he started to actually believe the lie, to believe you were truly his wife? And why did you believe every single word he said without an ounce of your usual skepticism?

How was he making your heart soar like this? Why did he have so much power over you, over your poor, guarded heart? Why did he have to be this perfect?

Why did you love him so much?

You gasped aloud as the intrusive thought took the remaining breath away from your lungs. You loved him. You were completely, undeniably in love with him. You were in love with the man who mocked you, annoyed you, tortured you with his words. You were in love with the man you claimed to dislike for all these years.

And that realization only made you cry harder, the tears spilling over your lashes because you were entirely convinced he was never going to love you back.

“I—” you started, trying to find your voice, but a heavy, broken sob ripped through your chest instead.

Thor's face immediately fell into an expression of deep, agonizing concern. His blue eyes searched your face frantically as he wrapped his massive arms around you, pulling you securely against his broad chest.

“Please do not cry, honey,” he murmured, his deep baritone cracking in pain.

He called you honey. He called you honey in private, in the quiet safety of your shared room, while holding you as if you were made of glass. It was so sweet, so tender, so full of an unprompted meaning. What on earth had happened to the two of you? Just hours ago, you were bitterly bickering about your morning coffee, but now you were collapsed in his arms, crying simply because he wanted to protect you.

Nobody did that for you. Nobody had ever said they would protect you, because they always expected you to handle it yourself. They knew what you were capable of; they knew you were lethal.

Nobody ever thought you would need someone else to do your bidding for you.

His large hand moved to the back of your head, his thick fingers gently stroking through your hair as he spoke, his voice dropping into a raspy whisper. “Darling, are you crying because of me?” He swallowed hard, his voice cracking again. “Do you truly think I mean to harm you? Do you think so little of me?”

You sobbed, your fingers clutching desperately onto the fabric of his shirt, burying your face into his chest.

“I’m begging you, do not cry,” he gulped, his own chest heaving as he held you tighter. “It... it hurts me.”

“I had been nothing but a laboratory experiment to them,” you finally choked out, the confession tearing out of your throat.

Thor froze instantly, his entire muscular body stiffening beneath your touch.

Slowly, you tilted your head up, your chin resting against his chest. Your lashes were damp with heavy tears that still kept falling silently down your cheeks. Thor’s hand gently cupped your face, his thumb catching the moisture, his eyes entirely locked onto yours as he listened with a quiet focus.

“They didn’t see a young woman,” you whispered, your throat tightening painfully as your grip on his shirt tightened. “They only saw a lab rat. A nameless object to be broken, tested, and rebuilt. I remember the cold steel of the table. I remember begging and begging... crying until my eyes bled, but they just kept on going.”

Thor’s blue eyes darkened into a midnight so black it looked like a brewing storm. A terrifying rage formed deep within him—a rage so massive and destructive that he felt he could destroy all of humanity just to see the lingering pain disappear from your eyes.

“Who are they?” He demanded, and your eyes closed in despair.

Should you tell him? Should you let him be a part of the darkest corners of your past?

Should you trust him?

“Darling, please tell me,” he begged, his voice trembling with a restrained fury as he looked down at you. “Who did this to you?”

Your throat tightened, your pulse fluttering at his gentle words and protective tone. You sighed opening your eyes, “They were a faction I later discovered to be the vile, lingering remnants of Hydra.”

Thor saw pure red. His throat tightened to the point of suffocation at the horrific image of you at the mercy of those monsters—being tortured, crying, entirely helpless.

“I need names,” he growled softly, the air in the room turning heavy with static.

“I don’t have names—”

“I will find names.”

“I don't know if you can, Thor, it was years—”

“I will,” he cut you off, his tone leaving absolutely no room for argument. He brought his other hand to your cheek, tilting your face up just a fraction. “Keep going, honey.” His voice was incredibly gentle for you, even as the undercurrent of his rage thrummed through his veins. He could barely bear to listen to the atrocities you had survived, but he had to. You were finally opening up to him, and he would listen to you until the end of time.

You gulped, trying to steady your breathing. “At the time, they were desperate, trying to replicate the lost Super Soldier serum using volatile cosmic energy signatures they barely understood.” You let out another shaky sob, and Thor immediately rubbed your back in slow, soothing circles, offering you every ounce of comfort his massive frame could provide. “More needles inserted into my skin... more radiation pumped into my veins, all for the sake of a twisted immortality.”

You held him tighter, closing your eyes against the memories. “And once they realized what they had created, they turned me into a ghost. An assassin. They forced me—forced me to do horrific, bloody things, Thor. I hurt so many people.” You opened your eyes, looking up at him with an unbearable vulnerability. “I did horrible, horrible things.”

The tears came faster now, the weight of your past crushing you as you sobbed uncontrollably against him. “I never wanted to do any of those things... they made me, I swear they made me, and they hurt me to make me do it—”

“Shh, sweetheart,” Thor interrupted softly, his voice thick with emotion as he clutched you even tighter against his heart, burying his face into your hair, his nose nudging your scalp as he did so. “None of this is your fault. Look at me.” He pulled back just enough to cup your face with both of his massive hands, gently forcing you to look up into his striking blue eyes. “None of it is your fault.”

“I am the one who did all of it—” Your voice cut off as another wave of tears streamed down your cheeks. It was like a dam had permanently broken in your chest, and there was absolutely no stopping it now. You were crying for the stolen years, crying for the innocent lives your hands had been forced to take, crying because you felt completely stripped bare and vulnerable—but most of all, you were crying because you loved him.

“I told you it is not your fault, sweetheart,” he said, his tone turning fiercely stern, leaving no room for you to argue with him. “You were kidnapped. Tortured.” He gulped like it was a great pain to say these words, “Your whole life was altered by monsters. You were made to do all of it.” His own voice grew heavy with sadness as he looked at your tears. “You did nothing wrong. You were just trying to survive, honey.”

“I’m so glad Steve and Tony saved me,” you whispered, your throat burning. “I... I don’t know what I’d do if it wasn't for them.”

At the mention of their names, Thor felt his chest tighten with a sharp, unexpected pang. Who else on the team knew the full extent of this? Steve and Tony, definitely. Natasha? You two were close; you would have told her. Bucky? Bruce? Clint? Was he truly the only person who had been left completely in the dark?

And to think he had called you gloomy.

A heavy cloak of regret settled over his shoulders. It was all true—everything he had confessed to Alejandro and Valentin at the table. He had thought you were the most breathtakingly beautiful woman he had ever seen the moment you walked into the compound years ago. But he had fucked it all up by opening his mouth and saying you looked gloomy. Would the two of you be any different right now if he hadn't used that stupid word?

“I am sorry,” he mumbled, the unexpected words catching your attention through the haze of your crying. He looked down at you, his eyes pained. “So fucking sorry I called you gloomy. Truly sorry. Can you—” He gulped hard, his chest heaving. “Can you forgive me?”

“I...” You trailed off, staring up at him in utter disbelief. Where the hell was this coming from? The walls around your heart instantly tried to slam back up. “Do you pity me now? Is that it?” you asked, your tone shifting into something sharp and defensive.

Thor’s eyes widened in immediate panic. “No—not pity. Towards you at least, never. I pity myself.”

“What does that even mean—”

“I meant every single word I said back there at the table,” he said softly, his thumbs tenderly grazing your cheeks to wipe away the fresh tears.

Your heart gave a violent flutter against your ribs, but it felt entirely too good to be true. You couldn't let yourself fall for a beautiful lie. “Do not mock me, Thor—”

“I would never.”

Your eyebrows went straight up, your expression clearly stating the obvious. He loved mocking you. He made it his absolute daily mission to get under your skin and irritate you to death.

Thor scrunched his face up at your look, a soft, self-deprecating sigh escaping his lips. “On this matter, I mean. I would never, ever mock you on a matter such as this, Little Flame.”

You scoffed, quickly averting your eyes from the intensity of his gaze. “Now you're just being cruel, big guy—“you tried to pry yourself off him, but one of his hands holding your face descended to your waist and circled it tightly.

“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met in my thousands of years alive.”

Your eyes widened with shock as they snapped back to meet his. Your heart dropped straight to your stomach with a violent jolt of excitement—of pure happiness.

“I am?” you whispered, the words coming out small and fragile, like a secret you were almost too afraid to speak aloud. It felt entirely unbelievable.

“You are,” he said, nodding firmly as he looked down at you.

There was something profoundly pure swirling in his deep blue eyes. It was a look you dared not name, because if you did, the only thing you could possibly call it would be adoration. He looked at you as if he completely and utterly adored you.

As you stared up at him, it hit you: that look was familiar.

He had always looked at you this way. Back at the compound, during your worst arguments, across the briefing table—his pupils would blow wide, a hidden mirth would dance behind his eyes, mixed with this exact same heavy, unyielding intensity. All these years, you had defensively rewritten that look as dislike, as a god looking down on an annoying mortal. Has he always looked at you with adoration in his eyes? Or were you just desperately lying to yourself now because your own walls were crumbling?

Either way, your breath was completely knocked out of you. Panic, cold and sharp, flooded your veins. You had to get away from him. You had to protect your heart, your soul, whatever was left of your sanity. You had already bared your darkest, most painful secret to him—the one thing you had specifically kept hidden from him out of fear—and you were terrified of what else you might reveal the longer you spent wrapped up in his arms.

“I—“You panicked even more as his gaze softened with that heartbreakingly tender look. You planted your palms against his chest and pushed. “I think it would be better if you let go of me now.” Thor’s expression changed, the vulnerability vanished, his eyes darkening to a stormy, dangerous hue. He had just laid his soul bare, admitting he found you more beautiful than anything in the cosmos, and now you were demanding he let you go?

“No,” he rumbled, his grip on your waist tightening rather than loosening. “Why would I do that?”

“Because I want you to—I need you to—“

“Why would you need me to do that?” he demanded, his voice dropping dangerously. “Are you that disgusted by me?”

Before you could even process the question, his expression shifted again. The anger twisted into something entirely unhinged as the green-eyed monster clawed ruthlessly at his insides, blinding him with an irrational fury.

“So you will gladly get close to that bastard at the bar, let his filthy hands touch your skin, but you cannot bear to have me hold you?”

Your mouth parted as you looked at him with pure, unyielding disbelief. “What on earth are you on about? Why do you keep talking about him like I'm actually into him—“

“Are you?” he fiercely cut you off.

He leaned down further, his eyes agressively scanning every inch of your face, his hot breath fanning across your lips. It made your breath hitch painfully in your throat. His completely irrational, wild behavior was forcing you to consider a reality you shouldn't. Something you would have never dared to think of just moments ago. Was he jealous?

Was he actually fucking jealous?

A dangerous spark of defiance flared up inside your chest. “What if I am?” you pushed, tilting your chin up to challenge him. “You cannot be,” he said, a flash of pure, territorial anger burning hot behind his eyes. “I will not let you. You are—you—“ He stammered, his usual booming eloquence completely deserting him as his gaze furiously swept over your face, desperately trying to decipher if you actually harbored any feelings for that fucker.

You smiled daringly up at him. You knew you probably looked absolutely wicked right now, with your smudged mascara, your flushed cheeks, and that fierce, determined look in your eyes.

“Are you jealous, big guy?” you whispered.

Your hands, which had been resting on his chest, began trailing upwards to his neck seductively. You didn't even have control over your own body anymore; it was like some primal instinct had taken over and you had to do this. You had to break him. You had to get him to confess. You felt entirely insane—just seconds ago, you were panicking and trying to push him away, and now you were mindlessly feeling him up, loving the power you had over him. Fuck.

Thor felt his heartbeat fasten against his ribs. His arm around your waist constricted, pulling you so close that there wasn't a single shred of air left between your bodies, his jaw locking hard in place. He knew exactly what you were doing. You were playing with fire on purpose. He made a ‘pfft’ sound, “I am not—“ he tried, desperately attempting to lie straight to your face.

“I think you are, honey,” you purred, leaning in until your breath fanned directly over his lips, your thumb lazily circling the heated skin at the nape of his neck. Even his neck was hot, for god's sake. It was thick and masculine. He was so masculine. His eyes immediately drifted down to your lips again, his resolve crumbling. “I am not. I simply... I wish to protect you because you are my teammate—“

“Oh, so I should just go back down to the bar and find him, then?” you pushed ruthlessly. You tilted your head, feigning complete innocence with your wide, tear-bright eyes.

He huffed, utterly furious at the mere suggestion. “Absolutely not. You are not leaving this damn room without me by your side.”

Your wicked smile widened. “Why not?” you purred, your face moving a fraction closer until your lips almost brushed his jaw. “I could touch him like this...” Your hands drifted down from his neck, sliding over the heavy planes of his chest down to his massive biceps, making his muscles instantly twitch under your fingertips. “I could kiss him like I did you, just minutes ago—“

Thor couldn't take it a single second longer.

His lips slanted over yours, ruthlessly cutting your sentence and your breath off. He pulled you even closer toward him, holding you like you were his absolute lifeline, pressing you so tight against his broad, muscular frame that it felt like your bodies were becoming one. You kissed him back passionately, completely losing yourself in the intoxicating heat of it. Your hands flew up to find his rough cheeks, and you pushed yourself up on your tiptoes, pressing your lips hungrily onto his.

He bit your lower lip with a sudden, needy sharpness, then stopped. He reluctantly moved his head away just a few inches, his breathing heavy and ragged as he whispered against your mouth, “You are not to kiss anyone but me.” His thumb came up, grazing over your throbbing lower lip. “Stop it, alright?” he whispered, then pecked your lips.

“Why—“

He pecked your lips again, roughly cutting you off, and then growled the confession right into your mouth: “Because I am fucking jealous, okay honey?”

He kissed you again, and you actually smirked straight into the kiss. The absolute victory of making a literal god admit defeat made your heart soar into the stratosphere. You pulled back though your lips were still grazing his, whispering wickedly against his mouth, “What was that?”

He pecked your lips again, desperate, heavy, and completely surrendered to you. “I have been burning with jealousy since I saw him lay his filthy eyes on you. I do not know what is wrong with me, but I—” He gulped hard, his large thumb slowly gliding over your flushed cheek. “I am consumed by it.”

A breathless, giddy giggle escaped your lips then. “Okay, big guy.”

He was jealous. The King of Asgard was completely, undeniably jealous, and he had just admitted it to you in the dark of your room. Oh god, you were losing your mind—and you never wanted to find it again.

But one question prodded at your mind before he made it all disappear with a fierce kiss, why was he jealous in the first place?

But you were not in your right mind. Because Thor wasn’t kissing you like a normal kiss. He was inhaling you, and it was already lighting you on fire.

The height difference was clearly bothering him as much as it was bothering you. Feeling the strain, Thor lowered himself just a bit before sliding his hands under your thighs, effortlessly lifting you completely off the floor, making your dress ride up. Your arms immediately circled around his thick neck—the very same neck you had been dying to strangle just hours ago—and you let out a soft moan directly into his mouth as his hands slipped up from your thighs to find your ass, squeezing your cheeks tightly as he pinned you securely against his massive frame. You moaned into his mouth, not being able to help it.

A hand left your ass and wrapped around your neck, while the other moved back to your waist to securely hold you, angling your face to kiss you as deeply as he wanted. His tongue pressed over yours as he walked himself backward into the bedroom. The kiss was heated, so full of passion you felt your insides burn with it. His kisses descended to your jaw, then to your neck as he hummed in deep appreciation. What were you doing kissing Thor, of all people? What were you doing letting Thor take you to bed, of all people?

But the thought couldn't even fully form as he bit down on your neck, making you whine in pain.

“Thor—” you begged, without knowing what it was you were begging for.

— “Yes?” he rumbled against your skin as he licked the sensitive spot on your neck, then he laid you over the mattress, settling his heavy body over you. He massaged your hips as he settled himself deeply between your legs. You spread them wide to accommodate him, and felt it poking hard against your thigh.

His cock, thick and hard, was somehow bigger than you had imagined—and you hadn’t been thinking small.

“Guess we don't have to fight over who gets the bed anymore,” you quipped, your voice breathless, trying to find a defense in your usual wit.

It made him chuckle, a low vibration against your chest. “I guess not,” he whispered, then took your lips again. This kiss was softer than before, slowly dismantling you as his lips glided over yours. Then he pressed his hips heavily against your core, making you whine out loud.

“Do you feel that?” He pulled your upper lip between his teeth, smiling slightly into the heat of your face. “It’s what you do to me. Ever since we landed here, I’ve be walking around so hard I was worried you’d see it. But no.” He kissed one corner of your mouth, then the other. “You’re oblivious, aren’t you, honey?”

He found you that attractive?

You hummed, tipping your head back in complete surrender. Thor groaned, dragging his lips over a throbbing pulse point, letting his tongue flick against the sensitive skin of your throat. “You like that too,” he grunted, his breath hot in your ear. “You like being the one person that gets me going, that makes me lose it. No one else, my Little Flame.”

He held your hips again and pushed your ass forward, locking you in place so your clit was pushed tightly against the thick hardness of him through the fabric. A long moan escaped your lips, and you dropped your face into his shoulder, completely undone.

Thor grunted, rutting forward, and it was so fucking hot you couldn't think past it. The deep drawl of his voice in your ear, the impossible strength of him around you—it was intoxicating. The clothing added a desperate, heavy extra friction, his fingers digging into your hips.

“Just you,” he thrusted forward against your core, squeezing your ass tightly with his other hand. “Only you, sweetheart. So beautiful and sassy, driving me insane—“

You whimpered as Thor made a low, ragged sound, taking a deep, shaky breath against your hair. His hand then slipped into your panties, his deft fingers dragging down to tease right against the already damp drip of your pussy. His fingers started circling your clit, a thick dampness forming immediately down there under his torturously perfect touch. “Please—” you cried out, your hips bucking up instinctively against his hand, begging for him to end this perfect torture.

“Please what, honey?i Thor rasped, his touch growing heavier, more demanding as he felt your walls slick and trembling for him. “Tell me exactly what you want me to do to you”

“I want you,” you gasped out as he inserted his middle finger inside you—and fuck, even his finger was incredibly large.

“Not enough, sweetheart,” he grumbled, pressing his thumb firmly down onto your clit, making you squirm and twitch helplessly in place beneath his weight.

“What do I have to say—“

“I said tell me exactly what you want, did I not?” he rumbled, suddenly moving his finger deep inside you, rhythmically fucking you with it. You whined loudly at the overwhelming friction, your hands locking onto his massive biceps and squeezing hard enough to leave marks. “I want you to—“ you gasped, your vision blurring. “I want you to fuck me... no, I need you to fuck me. Please.”

You were completely reduced to begging him. In response, his fingers slicked deeper as he added his ring finger into your heat, stretching you beautifully, but then he stopped abruptly.

There was simply too much extra fabric from your midi dress crumpled up in his way.

Your eyebrows furrowed, the sudden loss of momentum leaving you aching and confused. “What is it?”

He didn't respond with words. Instead, his large hands slid down to your lower back, his knuckles brushing your bare skin as his fingers found the zipper of your dress.

Your blood ran completely cold in an instant. Your whole body stiffened up beneath him, every single muscle locking tight.

Your scars.

Other people, other agents, had seen them on the battlefield or during training, and you had never felt bad about it. But this was Thor. You knew he had caught a fleeting glimpse of them at the pool earlier, but he hadn't truly seen all of them. He hadn't seen the worst of them. And this was not a public pool, was it? This was intimate. This was completely private. Which meant he would have all the time in the world to analyze them with his eyes, more time to realize how broken your body really was, more time to get disgusted by them—

The heavy weight of his hand cupped your jaw, covering it completely and instantly grounding you, cutting your spiraling thoughts short. “What is it?” he asked softly, his blue eyes searching yours in the dim light. “What's wrong, Little Flame?”

You gulped hard, helplessly averting your eyes from his intense stare. “I—I don't know about this...”

“Do you want to stop?” he asked immediately, completely freezing, his hand instantly lifting away from the zipper of your dress without hesitation.

“No!” you scrambled out desperately. Your eyes snapped back to find his, and you saw deep confusion in them.

How could he not be confused? You probably looked completely insane to him right now. First you were kissing him like there was no tomorrow, then you were begging him to take you, then you were voicing a doubt, but you were still fiercely refusing to stop. You were goddamn confusing.

You closed your eyes, a wave of shame washing over you. “It's just that I...” You swallowed hard. “I don't think I should remove my dress.”

His eyebrows furrowed deeply. “But I want to feel you. I do not understand,” he said, getting more perplexed by the second.

You huffed, unable to meet his eyes. “My scars... they are not pleasant to look at, Thor.”

“You do not know what is pleasant to my eyes or not,” he countered instantly, his deep voice carrying an unyielding certainty that took you completely aback.

“But—“

“I find you attractive. I find your scars attractive. I find every single part of you breathtakingly attractive,” he said, his tone dropping into a fierce vow as his hand found the track of your zipper once again. He didn't pull it, he just waited, asking for your trust. “Please let me see you, darling,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over yours, his warm breath intoxicating. “So that I can witness your beauty. So that I can show you exactly how much I love your scars, how much I love every part of you.”

Your eyes were wide, your heart beating so fast and hard against your ribs it felt painful. Should you actually let him?

This was Thor, for god's sake. He was never the nicest person to you—

But was he not?

A sudden rush of memories flooded your brain, completely reframing the last few years. He always looked out for you on dangerous missions, shielding your blind spots. Even though he irritated you daily, he always helped you carry heavy equipment crates—though not before he smugly made you cave in and admit you couldn't do it yourself, just like he did with your suitcases. He had caught you by the waist every single time you tripped. His eyes had always, always been tracked onto you in every room. And tonight, he had called you the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his thousands of years of life, before literally threatening to crush a man's skull for disrespecting you.

So no. He had never been rude to you. He had always been good to you. He annoyed you, sure, but he was so goddamn protective and sweet to you in his own annoying and loud way, and you had somehow just noticed it. How the hell did you just notice it?

Your chest was heaving heavily as you made your final decision, the remaining walls around your heart completely collapsing.

“Okay,” you whispered, nodding your head against the pillow.

Thor smiled then—a soft, blindingly beautiful smile that made him look younger, happier. His lips easily found yours again in a deep, reassuring kiss as his hand slowly, smoothly slid the zipper all the way down, gently removing the white dress from your body and leaving nothing between you but the heat of his skin.

You were now left in your white bra and panties, his gaze burning your skin as he looked all over you. His heart soared at the sight of you, but he felt a sharp pang of pain in his chest at the scars littering your skin. They were a lot more than he thought, but gods, they only made you more attractive to him. A strong woman, with the face of an angel and the body of a goddess—you were always meant to be his undoing.

His fingers grazed a thin line along your ribs as his mind echoed fiercely, She is beautiful, and I am going to make them pay for hurting her, all of them.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you squirmed, a faint trace of your old discomfort resurfacing. Instead of drawing back, he leaned over your body, his face level with your stomach as his large hands gently grabbed your sides, anchoring you. And then, he lowered his head and kissed one of the most visible, ragged scars you had near your hip.

“You are beautiful. Truly a goddess... one fit for me,” he muttered against your skin, before kissing the mark again.

Your breath hitched, your head spinning into a daze. That specific scar was from the most lethal trauma you had ever endured. You had almost died that day; in fact, you had hoped to die that day just to escape. But your captives had found a way to keep you alive, using brutal, advanced procedures to permanently bind your altered biology together. Tears welled up in your eyes, your vision blurring for the second time that night. To see him kiss it like that—so tenderly, with so much reverence—made something warm and heavy fill your chest. It was like a fractured part of you was finally feeling whole again.

I love him, your mind screamed at you for the second time that day. Your right hand instinctively found his rough cheek, your fingers tangling in his beard as he kept kissing your scars. One left from needles being inserted into the exact same place dozens of times; one left from a failed escape attempt on a mission they sent you on, a punishment for not obeying... He was kissing every single one of them.

And while his lips hovered over the worst one near your hip again, you finally whispered, “I almost died when I got that one.”

His head immediately whipped up, his heart tightening painfully in his chest at your words. “What?” he asked, his throat closing in, his blue eyes blazing with an intense, dark focus.

“They used a plasma blade to slice me open during a combat stress-test,” you whispered, the memory making your voice shake. “They wanted to see how fast the cosmic energy in my blood would knit the flesh back together while I was conscious. I begged them to just let me bleed out.”

Thor’s hold on your sides violently tightened, his knuckles turning white and his jaw locking so hard a muscle strove in his cheek. “I am going to make them pay, Little Flame." he said his voice determined, "I am going to avenge you. They are going to feel the wrath of the God of Thunder, be sure of that. No one, and I mean no one, gets away with hurting you.”

He turned his head toward the hand holding his cheek, shifting slightly to press a deep, lingering kiss against the inside of your wrist, right over your pulsing vein, like he wanted to be sure you were alive. Like he needed reassurance of your well being after your confession. He could not bear the thought of you in pain, but death? You on the brink of death? His poor heart could not take it. “I do not know what you did to me, sweetheart, but you—” he gulped, his eyes locked on yours, “you have a hold on me that no one else ever did. That no one else ever could.”

He leaned up, his chest heaving against yours. “I cannot help it. I cannot help but be jealous, I cannot help but be protective, possessive... I just can't help it. You have completely bewitched me.”

Your breathing fastened as your heart fluttered wildly in your chest at his words. What did he mean? How was he talking like this? He couldn't love you, you knew that—you were just deeply flawed partners on a mission—but a part of your soul soared at the fact that he harbored these intense, desperate urges for you. Even if it wasn't love, he felt for you with a terrifying depth.

When his large hands moved down to remove your white bra, you reached up and caught his wrists, tsking him with a breathless smirk. “Don't you think you're being a bit unfair, big guy? It's your turn.”

Your hands found his collar, pulling his heavy frame down to your lips. You kissed him deeply, pouring all your hidden, aching feelings into it, while your shaky fingers began working on the unbuttoning of his shirt. Your hands were trembling with excitement and the weight of your feelings for him. When you finally removed your lips from his, you let out a frustrated huff, looking down at the fabric because your frantic fingers couldn't unbutton them fast enough.

Thor just chuckled, a rumbling sound against your chest. He took matters into his own hands, gripping the shirt and casually pulling it over his head with one smooth motion, tossing it blindly across the room.

“Oh fuck... you honestly are a god,” you whispered, taking him in fully. His biceps were literally the size of your head, his pecs perfectly sculpted, his abs defined and casting shadows in the dim light—he was going to be the absolute death of you.

He chuckled again, clearly enjoying your completely awestruck expression, and immediately took it to his advantage. His large hand slid behind your back, and with a single, practiced flick of his fingers, he unclasped your bra in a second.

You gasped in bewilderment, snapping your eyes up to meet his. “You sly fox,” you said, a wicked smirk returning to your lips.

He just held your bra up for a brief second like a captured banner of war, a triumphant smile lighting up his handsome face, before he tossed it away. Turning all of his massive, heavy attention back to you, his mouth immediately latched onto your right breast, his tongue swirling hot against your skin while his large hand slid down past your stomach to find your crotch.

“Ohmygod,” you gasped out in one breath.

His fingers hooked into the edge of your panties, sliding them down your hips before giving a firm, playful slap against your inner thigh. “Get your legs up for me, honey, so I can get these off,” he grunted against your skin. You quickly complied, lifting your hips and helping him slide the remaining lace down your legs until you were completely bared for him.

He let go of your nipple for a second, his large hands sliding down to grip your thighs with an iron hold, settling himself deeply between them again. He spread them wide open, his gaze dropping down to your glistening center. His tongue darted out in anticipation, his eyes dark with an intense, heavy hunger.

“You look so sweet, honey. Bet you taste as sweet as you look, don't you?” he murmured to himself, his deep baritone sending a thrill straight down your spine as he kept his gaze locked between your legs.

You whined in agonizing anticipation, your hips twitching on the mattress. “Do something—oh!”

You were cut off as his thumb pressed hard against your clit, slowly dragging all the way down your slick slit, catching your juices on his skin. He lifted his hand, looking down at his wet thumb before putting it directly between his lips, sucking the moisture off as he closed his eyes.

“Oh, yes you do taste sweet. Better than I ever imagined,” he rumbled, his voice rough. He leaned down and gave your pussy a light, playful slap, the stinging heat making you whine out loud.

“Thooor—”

He hovered back over your body, his mouth immediately returning to suckle hungrily on your right nipple. At the same time, his hand slid back between your thighs, inserting his middle finger deep inside you, quickly followed by his ring finger. His thumb began circling your clit in rhythmic patterns. Your mouth fell agape, your head tossing from side to side as you moaned and moaned, your body beautifully stretched by his incredibly large fingers.

Your hands locked onto his broad shoulders, squeezing tight, the slick friction of his touch rapidly driving you toward the edge, pulling you closer to that blissful, impending high.

“'M close,” you murmured, your eyes completely dazed. You pulled his head closer, biting down on the thick skin of his neck and suckling fiercely, making the god let out a deep, gravelly groan of pleasure.

“You’re driving me insane,” he growled against your skin, his fingers moving faster, driving deep inside your tight heat. “Come on, pretty girl, make a mess on my fingers.”

The pressure kept building and building in your lower stomach until it was entirely unbearable. “I—” you gasped, your toes curling into the sheets. “I’m gonna—”

“Come on, let it go, baby,” he commanded darkly.

And then you snapped. You came hard, whining and moaning loudly as wave after wave of intense pleasure rippled through your core, your walls clamping down violently around his fingers. Thor grunted, keeping his fingers moving through your contractions, forcing every last drop of pleasure out of you until you were breathlessly begging him to stop.

Before you could even catch your breath, Thor shifted. He reached down to his waist, lowering his trousers and boxers in a single, aggressive movement. Because he was already on his knees, the fabric simply bunched up around his knees, freeing his lower half.

Your eyes widened in absolute awe at the sight. He was big. Just as you had thought, but seeing him fully bare made him look even bigger. “Oh god,” you whispered.

Thor gave his length a slow, heavy pump of his hand, precum glistening at the tip as he smeared the moisture down his thick shaft. He looked down at you, his chest heaving.

“Do we need protection? Because I don't have any—” he asked, his voice thick with restraint. “No, we don't,” you said eagerly, you were on the pill.

Pushing yourself up onto your elbows, you looked his naked torso and heavy length over with a predatory hunger. “You’re so fucking handsome it’s annoying, do you know that?” you said, biting your lower lip.

He chuckled, a smug, low sound as he settled his weight back in between your open legs. “Why, thank you, Little Flame—”

Your hand shot out, planting firmly against his massive shoulder. “Can I ride you?” Thor stopped dead in his tracks, his chest heaving, his pupils blown wide. “What?”

“Can I ride you?” you asked again, your voice completely determined.

Taking full advantage of his momentary shock, you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist, using your core to pull him down as you deftly flipped your positions. Within a second, you were sitting squarely on top of his hard stomach. His defined abs twitched beneath you, the movement grazing directly against your freshly sensitive clit, making you take a sharp breath.

“You wanna do all the work, honey?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowing as a lazy, amused smirk tugged at his lips.

“Mhm,” you hummed, your eyes dazed and hooded as you looked down at his towering chest. He chuckled, his large hands rising to rest loosely on your hips. “Are you sure? You are well aware I possess the stamina of a god.”

You rolled your eyes at his typical Asgardian arrogance. “I am aware. Can you just stop talking and—”

“Are you getting on, or not?” he interrupted, his smirk widening as he tilted his hips up just a fraction, the warm tip of his cock brushing against your entrance.

For a split second, the temptation to be difficult returned. “I am definitely reconsidering it now,” you pouted, crossing your arms over your bare chest and throwing him a defiant look.

But Thor just snorted, rolling his eyes at your stubbornness. Before you could even blink, his hands gripped your hips with terrifying strength and he lifted you up. You didn't even get a second to think before he downwardly forced your hips straight onto his thick dick, burying himself inside you all the way to the hilt.

The air was knocked completely from your lungs. Thor was so deep in you it was pushing all the thoughts out of your brain. You gaped down at him, making weak, breathless noises as your pussy pulsed and stretched beautifully around his thickness. His fingers dug deeply into your hips, the only sign that he was struggling to hold himself back from taking over completely.

“Much as I enjoy you trying to take control,” he muttered, his large hands sliding down to massage your ass with a heavy, grounding pressure, “I'd rather keep you full of me so you stop thinking.”

He reached up slowly, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You bit your bottom lip, whining at the unbearable fullness, and he chuckled, settling his upper body fully into the pillows. Your hands found his chest, your fingers grabbing firmly onto his broad pectorals for balance. “Ride it, baby,” he ordered, his voice a low, gravelly command.

And god help you, you tried. You caught your breath after a long moment that felt like an eternity and started to roll your hips. Thor groaned, his heavy eyelids fluttering as your tight heat dragged over his length, but he deliberately didn't help you yet. His hands remained firm on your body, forcing you to use every ounce of your strength to grind down onto his dick.

Your movements accidentally pushed him right against that sensitive, gooey spot inside of you, and you faltered with a long, broken moan. You shifted, forcing his thick head right against it again, and he let out a sharp breath, though he still didn't take the reins. “Uhh—” you whined, your head spinning.

“Feels good, does it not?” he cooed, his cock throbbing heavily inside you. “Nice and big, filling up your pussy so good.”

You moaned, your hips bucking instinctively. Thor grunted, thrusting up just slightly to meet you, and you tipped your head back as a shiver ran down your spine. The friction was incredible. For a second, back arched and thighs aching, you actually managed to find a rhythm. It started slow, rolling and pushing Thor’s cock right where you wanted it.

You looked down at him, sweaty and utterly adoring beneath you. His hands wandered over your skin, his breathing ragged and his lips parted as he watched you take him.

“That's a good girl,” he muttered, his blue eyes blown wide. “There you go, My Star.” He continued, “My beautiful fucking Star, so good for me are you not?”

You keened at the praise, your pace moving faster. Your knees were growing weak from the exertion, but the desperate need inside you was so much stronger. You bounced on Thor’s dick, grabbing at his chest and gasping for air as his sheer size split you open over and over again.

Looking down at his bare chest, his defined pecs looked absolutely delicious in the dim light. You had to take a bite, didn't you? Lowering your upper body flat against his chest, you leaned down and bit down on his left breast, hard. Thor groaned loudly, his abs flexing hard beneath you. “What are you—” he gasped.

You didn't answer, simply licking over the damp mark you had just left before kissing over it mindlessly. Pushing yourself back up, your hands found their place on his heaving chest again, meeting his eyes which were burning with an unhinged desire.

But it wasn't enough. You didn't possess the extra stamina or strength of a god, and he was just too big. You were so overwhelmed by pleasure that your body was starting to forget how to move properly. Every wet, obscene sound echoing in the room made you glance down at where he was disappearing inside of you—the way your slick was heavily coating his cock when you pulled up, and the heavy weight of his balls slapping against your ass every time you dropped back down.

You only got hornier, wanting nothing more than to just let go and allow your eyes to cross and toes to curl, but you couldn't find the pace to get over the edge. You couldn't cum. The frustration built up until pathetic, fat tears started streaming down your cheeks.

”Aw, baby, why are you crying?” Thor murmured, his voice laced with a gentle mockery. Fully aware of the fact that you couldn't reach the finish line by yourself, he reached up, brushing your tears away with his thumb while a tiny, knowing smirk played on his lips.

You let out a frustrated sob, shaking violently above him as your legs finally grew too weak to sustain the weight. You collapsed forward, just squirming uselessly against his lap now, blinking through wet lashes at his teasing, lazy smile. “You can't get there all alone, can you?” he purred, gripping your waist tightly and slamming his hips up into you.

You made a choked, high-pitched sound as the sudden force rattled your entire frame. “That's right, pretty girl. Just a total mess on my cock."

“Ple—please—“ you blubbered, completely spent, your upper body collapsing weakly over Thor’s broad chest. “God, Thor—please—“

“Aw. Begging so pretty.” He leaned up and pressed a tender, lingering kiss to your wet forehead. “How could I ever say no to you, huh?”

Without another word, Thor gripped your hips and effortlessly lifted you off his cock, twisting you onto your back as he sat up. You were shoved down into the mattress, your head pressed deeply into the cushions. His massive hands locked onto your hips, dragging you down the bed toward him, completely manhandling you. His right hand moved to the inside of your left thigh, pushing it wide open to expose your dripping core to the cool air of the room.

“Such a mess,” Thor rumbled, his eyes dark as he ran the thick head of his cock between the lips of your pussy, letting it press heavily against your swollen clit before lining it right back up at your entrance.

He slid in slowly, filling you back up until your eyes rolled back in your head. Bringing his upper body over yours, his left hand found your right leg, pushing it all the way up to your chest. He was impossibly deeper at this angle, stretching you to your absolute limits.

You tried to press your hand over your mouth to muffle your pathetic, undone sounds, but Thor tutted softly. With his left hand, he firmly wrapped his fingers around your wrist and pulled your hand away, pinning it to the mattress. He bottomed out completely, a deep groan ripping from his chest as he bit your earlobe.

His hand found its way to your thigh and kept your legs pinned high next to your breasts as he began to move, his brutal, unyielding pace making you instantly see stars. Every heavy thrust sent a shockwave through your body, your hips bouncing uncontrollably against the mattress.

Thor moved his head back just a little, looking down at where your bodies joined, and grunted in deep, possessive approval. He caught your jaw in his hand, his fingers anchoring you as he fucked you hard. “Want to see how good we fit, pretty girl?”

You couldn't even catch a goddamn breath, but you nodded frantically. He let go of your jaw, sliding his hand to the back of your head and gently forcing you to look down at your own lap.

It was sinful. So fucking sinful. A white, creamy ring was forming around his shaft as he ruthlessly fucked into you, and he was so goddamn right—you fit together like perfect puzzle pieces. With every single downward stroke, his heavy pelvis hit directly against your engorged, sensitive clit.

You moaned loudly, your eyebrows knitting together in pure pleasure as the visual pushed you right over the edge unexpectedly. You screamed his name as he let go of your head, his thumb brushing over your trembling lips. He didn't stop, keeping up the relentless, pounding pace, grunting your name over and over against your neck.

“Came after just a few seconds of me fucking you?” he mocked breathlessly, but he was in no better shape than you were. He looked completely disheveled, his hair wild, his jaw locked in a tight line of restraint.

He pushed his damp thumb directly into your mouth, and you blindly suckled on it, wrapping your tongue around his skin.

“Fuck,” he grunted, his blue eyes blowing wide as he finally lost his grip on his godly stamina. His hips gave one last, deep, trembling shove, pinning you flat to the bed as he came, throwing thick, hot ropes of cum deep inside you, filling you to the absolute brim. —

“Are you okay?” he whispered, his lips brushing tenderly against your knuckles.

You were having a near-impossible time keeping your eyes open, the aftershocks of the last hour leaving your limbs feeling like heavy lead, but you managed to nod lazily and offer him a soft, sleepy smile.

Thor took your hand, bringing it up to rest against his bare chest. You frowned, your brow furrowing in confusion. “What’re you doin’?” you mumbled, your exhaustion making your words barely intelligible, slurring together into a sleepy hum.

“Have to take care of you, baby,” he said, his voice so gentle it made your heart ache. He didn't wait for an answer, simply scooping you up into his arms, bridal style. Your arms instinctively circled around his thick neck, and you rested your heavy head against his shoulder as he carried you into the bathroom.

After he helped you clean up with a patience that was entirely uncharacteristic of the man you’d known for years, he carried you back to the bed. He kissed your forehead with lingering reverence as he laid you down, then slid under the covers next to you, pulling you into his embrace until your head was pillowed firmly against his chest.

His heart was beating like a war drum against your ear, his large fingers trembling slightly as he pulled the thin, cool sheets up to tuck you in. He stared at the ceiling, lost in the terrifying shift in his own reality.

Why was he feeling like this? What had happened to the cold, arrogant dynamic you two had shared for so long? The question burned in his mind, sharp and insistent: Did you feel the same?

Unable to hold the mounting anxiety back, he mumbled, “Do you hate me?”

The question came out before he could stop it, brittle and desperate. You stiffened slightly against him, your eyes fluttering open for a brief moment. “I never hated you.”

He hummed, a low vibration in his chest. “Hm.” He shifted, his hand moving to smooth a lock of hair away from your face. “Let me phrase it like this then... do you dislike me still?”

You smiled a little bit, your face scrunching up as you looked up at him hazily, your consciousness drifting further away. You were too exhausted to put up your usual defenses, and you told him half the truth.

“Not so much.”

You leaned forward and kissed his chest without thinking, the action small and intimate, before laying your head back down. His fastened heartbeat drummed in your ears, a frantic, steady rhythm that matched your own.

Thor felt his heart give out as he finally understood what he was feeling.

He was in love with you.

He had been for years, and he was absolutely, completely doomed.

—

You woke up, breathing in deeply as you opened your eyes and stretched your arms. Your eyes widened instantly as the vivid rush of last night’s endeavors hit you.

You slept with Thor.

You quickly looked next to you, your heart ready to leap with hopeful excitement, only to see a completely empty bed. Your heart dropped straight to your stomach. A cold, suffocating weight pressed down on your chest.

Where was he? Did he regret it that much? Did he wake up, realized what he had done with someone as broken as you, and left you all alone the first thing in the morning?

Your hands and feet went completely ice-cold. Your eyes tore up, your nose burning and your throat tightening painfully with incoming tears. Regret. It was the only word screaming in your mind.

You scrambled to your feet, desperately trying to swallow down the sob threatening to break out. Moving on pure autopilot, you quickly started getting ready for breakfast, needing a mask to hide behind. Your hands shook violently as you removed the mascara stains from your cheeks and quickly applied your sunscreen. You pulled on a black strapless summer dress with vibrant pink flowers—it hugged your torso tightly before flaring out beautifully from the waist down. You placed a long-brimmed black summer hat over your hair and slid into black kitten heels. Taking a shaky, shallow breath, you made your way down to the resort’s breakfast area.

The moment you stepped into the restaurant, your blood ran cold. You did not like what you were witnessing. At all.

Thor was there, standing by the open buffet, but he wasn’t alone. There she was—the receptionist girl who had been entirely too into your so-called husband since you arrived. Her hand was resting boldly on his right bicep while he looked down at her, his head turned toward her as he smiled lightly. She was actively flirting with him, and he wasn’t pulling back. Not even after everything he had whispered to you last night. What the hell was a receptionist doing there in the first place?

A dangerous rage built inside you, jealousy brewing hot and toxic, completely melting your insides. You couldn’t help it. Even if Thor didn't want you anymore, even if last night meant nothing to him, nobody was allowed to touch him like that as long as he was playing your husband.

You made your way toward them in fast, sharp strides, the click of your kitten heels masked by the ambient chatter. You stopped directly behind the girl, your index finger tapping her shoulder with an icy firmness.

She quickly turned around, a bright, rehearsed smile on her face, but that smile instantly died the second she registered who was standing there. She was much shorter than you; from beneath the brim of your hat, you were looking down at her with pure, unyielding disdain. A wicked, lethal smile played on your lips—a look that silently screamed, 'You are going to die in ten seconds, and not even the God of Thunder can save you from your demise.'

“My love, you’re awake!” Thor boomed, his face lit up with an instant, radiant brightness the very millisecond his eyes landed on you. You flicked your gaze to him, your chest tight. What a spectacular actor, you thought bitterly.

You looked straight back at the girl. Thor’s eyebrows quickly knitted together as he registered the tension radiating from your posture. “I was just on my way to bring you breakfast—”

“Were you now?” you cut him off, your voice dangerously low, though your eyes never left the receptionist. She was already squirming and trembling under your icy glare.

“I was just—” she stammered, backing up half a step. “You were just leaving,” you cut her off ruthlessly. Then, completely unable to hold yourself back through the blinding haze of your jealousy, you coldly added, “My husband does not have a taste for servants, you know?”

Thor’s eyes widened in sheer shock. You had done the exact one thing you had warned him not to do—you had ignored manners and called her a servant.

The girl nodded frantically, her eyes wide with fear, and immediately scrambled away from Thor, nearly tripping over her own feet to escape you.

The moment she was gone, you turned away from him without giving him a second look. “Baby—” Thor started, his hand reaching out.

“Do not baby me,” you snapped, turning your head back sharply, your eyes flashing with a profound, unyielding coldness that made him freeze.

Thor’s heart dropped straight to his stomach. The sudden, icy wall you had thrown up slapper him in the face so hard he felt your finger prints on his cheek. Did you regret it? Was that what this was? Did you wake up wishing last night had never happened?

“What is going on?” he asked, his voice losing its booming confidence, an edge of panic bleeding through.

You scoffed loudly, completely ignoring his question as you moved toward the stack of plates to grab your own food. You weren't going to stand there and look pathetic. Thor quickly followed on your heels, his massive frame completely blocking out the rest of the crowded restaurant as you aggressively snatched a ceramic plate from the stack. The weight of it felt solid in your shaking fingers—a grounding contrast to the chaos roaring inside your head. He didn't care that there were other guests around; his focus was entirely locked onto you.

“Talk to me, please,” he begged again, his deep voice dropping into a whispered, desperate pitch that only you could hear. “What did I do? Why are you looking at me like that?”

You moved down the line of the open buffet, your eyes fixed forward, your jaw locked tight under the long brim of your black summer hat. You didn't even see the food.

“I look at you exactly how I should look at a partner who fails to maintain the perimeter of our cover,” you whispered coldly, your tone clipped and professional—the ultimate shield to protect your bleeding heart. “We are supposed to be happily married, Thor. Yet I walk into the dining room and find you letting the resort staff treat your bicep like a resting post. It’s sloppy. It risks the mission.”

“The mission?” Thor repeated, and you heard the sharp, pained intake of his breath. He stepped in front of you, completely cutting off your path to the pastry section, forcing you to stop. When you tried to look past him, he leaned down into your line of sight, his blue eyes wide and panicked. “You think I care about the cover right now? Honey, look at me.”

The nickname was a mocking echo of the tenderness from last night. Your eyes snapped up to his, flashing with a dangerous, icy heat. “Do not call me that.”

He felt entirely hopeless, his blue eyes burning with a raw, suffocating pain the more you talked. “Last night—“

“Let's not bring up last night. Ever,” you said, sharply turning your head away from him. You were desperate to protect your heart, to pull the shields up before he could break you completely by saying how much he regretted it.

“What?” he asked, his voice entirely breathless. His lungs felt as though they were constricting in on themselves, a pain burning him from the inside out.

But you didn't answer., you just kept walking, your hands trembling so hard that the ceramic plate in your hands shaked in your grasp. You tried to swallow the thick lump of emotion stuck in your throat, but it wouldn't budge. You loved him, and he regretted you. That was the only reality your brain could process.

You had effectively carved his heart out of his chest and stepped on it with the sharp heel of your shoes, leaving his poor heart to bleed out on the cold floor while you kept thumping it with your foot over and over again. Thor’s head was thumping, his chest feeling completely hollow as he stood frozen, looking at your retreating back. To him, the message was loud and clear: you regretted everything you had given him, while he was deeply, hopelessly in love with you.

The rest of the breakfast passed by in a torturously. You didn't speak a single word to him, and he didn't dare speak to you, far too heartbroken to even think of where to begin mending the fracture. You both just sat there at the table in a heavy, complete silence. Thor spent the entire time staring down at his large, empty hands, while you kept your eyes rigidly fixed on your plate.

After breakfast, you returned to the villa to change for the pool, pulling on a black bikini and a sheer black beach dress. You kept the long-brimmed hat firmly on your head, using it as a barrier to keep yourself from looking at him, and to keep him from looking at you to see your pained expression.

Once down at the resort pool, you settled onto your sunbed for a second before immediately scrambling away to the water, needing to escape his suffocating proximity. Your body tensed up at the first splash, but slowly relaxed as your skin got used to the cold.

It's okay, your mind echoed in a desperate chant, trying to soothe your aching heart. You already got the codes. You can get this entire mission over with tonight, and then you won't ever have to sleep in the same room with him again.

From his sunbed, Thor was watching you like a hawk. He lay there with his massive arms crossed behind his head, his jaw locked so tight the muscles in his cheek flexed repeatedly. His hands were formed into rigid fists, the static electricity in his veins making the air around his chair turn faintly heavy.

Then, the tense silence was abruptly interrupted by a woman's voice coming from next to him. “Hello there, handsome.” She was sitting on a sunbed just one row away, looking to be in her late forties with short, styled blonde hair and a sly, predatory smirk on her face.

Thor didn't even turn his torso. He just spared a brief, icy sideway glance at her before immediately snapping his eyes back to the water, tracking your swimming. “Why are you all alone?” she purred, leaning forward to get his attention. “Your spouse left you to fend for yourself like mine did?” Thor finally turned his head fully away from the pool for a brief second. “I am completely fine. Thank you for your concerns, lady,” he grumbled clearly irritated, his baritone rough and entirely uninviting.

He dismissed her instantly, turning back to look toward the deep end of the pool—only to find you staring straight back at him with a lethal, blinding fire burning hot in your eyes.

He gulped, his breath taken away.

—

After your day in the pool ended and you were back in your villa, the silence between you had grown so heavier. You finally broke it, “I am going to secure the tech tonight.” Thor's back visibly stiffened at the sound of your voice. He turned to face you slowly, his blue eyes guarded. “What do you need me to do?” he asked, his voice rough and gravelly.

You gulped, forcing your professional mask back into place. “Distract Alejandro in the VIP section while I slip away. I'll pretend to go to the bathroom, access the private vault down the hall, and once I have the drive, I'll signal you through the comms so we can leave.” He nodded briefly, his jaw flexing. “Okay,” he whispered.

The process of getting ready was done in a tense, rhythmic quiet. Thor threw on a black linen shirt and charcoal linen pants, looking effortlessly devastating. You opted for a flowy, lightweight black dress that gave you maximum mobility, pairing it with flat, elegant leather sandals—you needed to be comfortable and silent on your feet tonight.

You headed down to dinner, the atmosphere of the resort's high-end restaurant buzzing around you while you sat like ghosts. You tried to eat whatever your stomach would allow, but you had absolutely no appetite after the events of the day. Every time your eyes accidentally met his, you both looked away, shielding your wounds. Once dinner was cleared, it was time. You made your way toward the exclusive VIP lounge, immediately spotting Alejandro lounging in a velvet booth surrounded by bodyguards. You and Thor exchanged a quick, imperceptible glance, checked the small clicks of your earpieces, and nodded.

Alejandro boomed with laughter the moment he saw you approach. “My friends! Welcome, welcome!” he cried, throwing his arms wide open in his usual boisterous display.

You both forced tight, practiced smiles onto your faces. Thor stepped forward, giving the man a brief, friendly hug before turning toward the booth to sit down. Before you could even slide onto the leather cushion next to him, Thor’s large hand securely gripped your waist. Your heart instantly went completely haywire as he effortlessly lifted you and pulled you right down onto his lap.

You two had been distant all day. He had to hold you. He needed to make amends, to feel the heat of your skin against his, even if it was just under the guise of the mission. At least, that was the only excuse his desperate mind could construct if you angrly yelled at him about it later.

You smiled tightly for Alejandro's benefit, but your fingers dug with an icy, warning firmness into the back of Thor's thick neck—a silent, furious message for him to let go. But Thor didn't care. He didn't care about the silent threat as long as he got to hold you in his arms for just a second longer before this mission ended and you went back to the compound to avoid him forever. He simply tightened his grip, pulling you flush against his chest, and smiled widely at Alejandro.

Alejandro chuckled deeply at the display of affection. “Always passionate, I see.”

You turned a sickly sweet smile toward the arms dealer, leaning into the cover. “Always,” you cooed, before casually looking around the lounge. “Where is Valentin tonight?” You instantly felt Thor's fingers dig sharply into your waist, his grip turning possessive at the mention of the man he had been burning with jealousy over. Alejandro made a dismissive, ‘don't care’ gesture with his hand. “Ah, he claims he is sick. Staying in his villa tonight.”

“Oh, poor guy,” you purred, feigning deep sympathy. “I hope he gets better soon.” Thor’s fingers dug even deeper into your hip bone, a silent, growling protest that you had to actively ignore.

You endured another twenty minutes of Alejandro’s endless boasting, monitoring the guard rotation out of the corner of your eye. Finally, the hallway leading to the back offices cleared. You lightly tapped Thor’s broad shoulder, signaling him that it was time. "I need to go to the restroom, honey," you said loudly enough for the table to hear, sliding off his lap.

He didn't protest, maintaining his role, but his blue eyes burned holes straight through your frame as you walked away. The moment you turned the corner out of the lounge's line of sight, the sweet smile vanished from your face. Your heart rate spiked, breathing sharpening as you slipped into the dim, restricted corridor. Using the digital master key you had covertly cloned from the resort's mainframe, you bypassed the electronic lock on Alejandro's private office in three seconds flat. The door clicked open with a faint hiss. You slipped inside, closing it silently behind you.

The room was dark, illuminated only by the ambient glow of the resort's outdoor lights filtering through the blinds. You moved like a shadow across the plush carpet, heading straight for the ornate bookshelf on the far wall. Pressing the hidden release mechanism behind a heavy brass statue, the wall ground open to reveal a reinforced titanium safe. Your fingers flew across the keypad, inputting the encryption codes you had painfully secured earlier in the week. BEEP. The safe's heavy bolts retracted. You quickly dismanntled the failsafe and looked inside the safe.

There, resting on a velvet cushion, was a glowing, intricately carved container pulsing with a faint, dark energy—the stolen Dark Elf convergence technology. Beside it lay the encrypted flash drive containing the buyers' manifests. Your breath hitched. This was it. The culmination of hours of putting up with Thor, hours of hiding your heart, hours of surviving. You carefully wrapped the artifact in a specialized containment cloth to mask its energy signature, slipping it and the drive into the secure inner pocket of your dress.

You locked the safe, closed the hidden door, and stepped back out into the hallway, your heart hammering against your ribs. Pressing your finger to your earpiece, “Package secured. Perimeter clear. Let's mo—“ you were cut off as a heavy, sweating hand clamped brutally over your mouth from behind, and the cold steel of a gun barrel pressed hard into the side of your head. Fuck.

Back in the VIP lounge, Thor’s earpiece crackled with your voice. The sound instantly soothed his aching heart, but the relief didn't last long. You were cut off mid-word, your voice muffled into a sharp static gasp. His heart dropped straight to his stomach, cold dread instantly replacing his focus. What the fuck?

He smoothly stood up, cutting Alejandro off mid-sentence with a firm, booming laugh as he patted the man's shoulder, masking the terror roaring in his veins. "It has been an absolute pleasure, Alejandro, but my wife has been feeling quite fatigued from our travels. I must take her back to our quarters," Thor said, his tone leaving absolutely no room for argument. Before Alejandro could even protest, Thor was already walking away, his long strides carrying him down the corridor. “Little Flame? What is happening?” he whispered franticallyy into his comms, his hands trembling with a mix of fear and rising fury.

You didn't respond. The silence on the other end drove him to the edge. The second he stepped into the shadow of the back hallway, out of sight of the guests, he raised his hand. With a crackle, Stormbreaker materialized into his grip, the blue sparks already dancing along the heavy blade.

“So you were here to get to this, all along?” came Valentin's sharp, bitter voice from behind you. Thor's voice crackled instantly in your ear, low and lethal. “Is it him?” Bound by the hand over your mouth, you could only press a tight, affirmative hum into the microphone.

Valentin spoke again, his grip tightening. "The only reason why you were interested in me?" He sounded entirely wrecked, like he couldn't believe his own ego had been brokenby a spy. You gulped, trying to calculate your leverage. Sensing your shift, he cautiously removed his hand from your mouth to let you speak, keeping the gun digging into your temple. “Valentin, calm dow—“ CRACK. He ruthlessly smacked the heavy side of the gun against the side of your head. The force made your head snap to the side, a low, painful grunt ripping from your throat as your vision blurred for a split second. This motherfucker.

“Did he just fucking hit you?” came Thor's roaring voice through the comms, the nger in his tone vibrating so hard it rattled your earpiece. You quickly let out another hum, trying to mask it as a groan of lingering pain so that Valentin wouldn't realize you were on an active channel. “Are you still in the same spot?” Thor demanded, his footsteps shaking the building as he sprinted toward your coordinates. This fucker had absolutely no chance. He was dying tonight.

You hummed again in confirmation, which only served to irritate Valentin further. He grabbed your chin, turning your face toward him, forcing you to look into his wild, unhinged eyes. A crazy, desperate smile spread across his face. “I think you should give me a kiss before you go,” he whispered darkly. He closed his eyes, leaning his face directly into yours. Big mistake.

The second his eyes shut, your training took over. You threw your head back, violently slamming the crown of your skull against his nose. He staggered back with a curse, and you used the momentum to drive a sharp elbow directly into his ribs, successfully hitting the gun away from your head. You spun, sweeping your leg out to take his ankles, but Valentin was fueled by pure adrenaline; he managed to catch his balance, his face twisting in fury as he lunged forward. He slammed you back against the wall, his hand locking tightly around your neck, and pointed the gun straight at your head from the front, yelling directly into your face.

But before he could even pull the trigger—before he could do anything at all—the gun in his hand was struck by a massive, flying axe. Stormbreaker sheared the weapon completely in half, embedding itself deep into the wall with a deafening thud. “I told you to stay away from her, did I not?”

And then came hell. Thor burst through the doorway, a literal storm rolling in behind him. He didn't even use his weapon. He descended on Valentin like an enraged deity, reaching out and grabbing the man by the collar of his expensive suit. “No—“ Valentin scrambled, his face draining of all color as he looked up into the face of a god.

“You hit her, and you tried to kiss her?” Thor rumbled, his voice shaking the light fixtures above. “You are in big trouble, boy.”

With a display of raw strength, Thor hoisted him completely off the floor and slammed him ruthlessly against the concrete wall. Thor's eyes completely turned into a blinding, static blue, the white-hot electricity arcing across his shoulders and down his arms. Valentin desperately pleaded for his life, gasping for air, but Thor was entirely deaf to it.

You slid down to the floor, clutching your throbbing head, watching the entire scene unfold in awe. Thor grabbed Valentin by the neck, lifting him higher, and delivered two brutal, bone-crushing punches straight to his jaw. Then, with a dark, final grunt of fury, he let the lightning loose. A massive burst of pure electricity fried Valentin instantly, dropping his lifeless body to the floor in a smoking heap. Oops.

The room went quiet, save for the faint hum of residual static. Thor immediately spun around, the terrifying god of war instantly vanishing the moment his eyes landed on you. He rushed to his knees at your side, his large hand gently but firmly holding your jaw, tilting your head up to assess the dark bruising swelling near your temple.

You tried to pull away slightly, the intensity of his focus making your chest tighten. “I'm fine,” you muttered. But your heart was beating erratically in your chest, completely overwhelmed by the unhinged protectiveness he had just shown. He had literally killed a man for putting a hand on you. He was fussing over you like you were the most precious thing in the universe. Was he really the same guy you thought regretted everything this morning?

Seeing the deep, pained expression of guilt and fear swirling in his blue eyes, you let out a soft sigh, your voice softening. “I heal fast, remember?” Thor cleared his throat, his thumb lingering against your jaw for one more second before he reluctantly nodded and let you go.

He helped you up and you both quickly slipped out of the room, heading out into the humid night air. You sprinted back to the villa, throwing your clothes into your luggage in a silent rush, before moving stealthily toward the designated extraction point in the cliffs. Once outside in the dark, Thor held Stormbreaker high into the sky, the Bifrost roaring down in a blinding beam of rainbow light, swallowing you both whole.

—

It has been two days since you came back, and you and Thor were completely ignoring each other. It was obvious to everyone else in the compound; it was the exact polar opposite of what you guys were always like. Normally, you kept riling each other up because you secretly loved it. You yelled at each other, threatened each other daily, but you were always together, attached at the hip like some dysfunctional shadow.

Now? He let you have your morning coffee without a single fuss. You let him be whenever he talked like the booming Asgardian he is, not even bothering to roll your eyes. You weren't even in the same room unless it was absolutely necessary to begin with; either you or Thor would leave the second the other walked in. It was an undeniable fact that youwere both desperately staying away from each other.

And you missed him. You missed the way he riled you up, missed the way he smiled down at you with that smug but inexplicably sweet expression on his face... you missed him so much it hurt your very soul. Natasha had quietly asked about it, Tony made a few mocking jokes, Steve only silently analyzed you two with a furrowed brow, and Scott? Well, Scott wasn't really aware of anything going on. But Rocket had literally yelled, “Why the hell are you two not fighting?!” at the both of you in the kitchen yesterday. You had only turned and left the room without a word, while Thor merely grunted, staring miserably into his mug as he sipped his coffee.

You had mandatory team training today. Eager to avoid any confrontation, you woke up at 5:00 AM just to have your coffee and breakfast completely away from him and everyone else, before retreating straight back to your room to get ready into your tight, black gear.

Thor woke up a few hours later and had his coffee as usual, but it felt entirely tasteless without the usual, fiery fight he had with you over who got to pour the first cup. Fuck, he missed you. He missed you so much he felt it aching deep in his bones, his heart, his lungs—everywhere. He hated this distance. He hated the silence.

He quickly made his way down to the training area, his intense blue eyes scanning the perimeter the second he stepped foot on the grass, instantly searching for you. And there you were near the equipment mats, talking to Steve with a quiet familiarity, just like you had been doing for the last two days. The sight of you leaning in slightly to hear what the captain was saying made rage build inside Thor's chest. The static in his veins flared, his jaw locking hard as his fists clenched at his sides.

It cannot be, his mind echoed fiercely, a desperate attempt to talk himself down. You are getting jealous over nothing. He is merely her teammate. But as he watched Steve laugh at something you said, Thor's chest hollowed out with that same burning, possessive fire that had consumed him before. He turned his head away, staring out across the vast, sun-drenched gardens of the compound, trying to force his breathing to steady. He was clearly out of his mind. He was a god, for kingdoms' sake, yet he was ready to throw down with the Captain over a simple conversation.

Meanwhile, out on the grass near the training mats, you and Steve were actually talking about the exact elephant in the room. “Tell me, doll, what happened with you two?” Steve asked, his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze shifting between you and the brooding god standing fifty yards away by the glass doors. “Nothing” you said immediately, adjusting the tracking straps on your wrists, trying to deflect. “It's obvious, you know? Don't bother lying.” Steve’s voice was gentle, but persistent.

You looked down at your combat boots, the weight of the secret pressing too heavily on your chest. Looking around to ensure no one else was in earshot, you finally whispered, “We slept together, Steve.” Steve's eyebrows furrowed in deep, pure confusion. “Okay... I know you don't exactly like the guy, but sleeping in the same bed couldn't have caused this much of a disaster—“ You snapped your head up and rolled your eyes, letting out a heavy sigh. Idiots. The whole lot of them were pure idiots. “Steve. Not like that,” you said, slapping your hand against your forehead. He had completely dismissed the actual option because his straight-laced brain simply couldn't believe it.

“What do you mean?” he asked again, completely lost.

You huffed, crossing your arms tightly. “We had sex.”

Steve’s eyes widened to the size of saucers, his arms instantly uncrossing as his brain short-circuited. “You—“ he pointed a finger at you, then pointed vaguely in Thor's direction. “Thor—“ he stammered, blubbering out in total confusion, it was very uncharacteristic of him you admit.

“Yes,” you cut him off, wanting to get the bandage ripped off. “And he regrets it, but me? I'm completely in love with him. Yay!” you said sarcastically, clapping your hands together in a mocking, bitter celebration.

Steve stood there in pure shock. You had never seen the Captain America look so entirely stunned, but then, something passed through his eyes. It was like a veil had been lifted, an entire timeline of events rewriting itself in his mind. “That's why you guys were always together,” he said, realization dawning on him. “You two are completely in love—“

“Whoa! Hold your horses,” you interrupted, your face heating up under the morning sun. “I am the one who's in love. Not him. He couldn't wait to escape the bed the next morning—“

“He is definitely in love with you—“ Steve started to counter, his voice laced with the certainty of a man who had been watching Thor pine from the sidelines for years. But whatever wisdom he was about to drop was loudly cut off by Tony’s voice echoing across the lawn through a megaphone. “We're all here, folks, let's get started! Cap, stop flirting with Shadow, goldilocks looks like he's about to blast you with lightning!” Tony yelled, gesturing toward the center of the field.

You stiffened, your eyes instinctively darting over to Thor, who was already marching onto the grass, his expression promising devastation for whoever had to spar with him today.

Your heart fastened at the sight of him, your eyes darting over his heavy frame, completely unable to control the sudden spike in your pulse. Steve grumbled something under his breath about Tony being incredibly annoying as he stood up and offered you a hand. You took his hand and got up, brushing the grass off your tight athletic pants.

Suddenly, a faint rumble of thunder vibrated through the ground. You paused, your eyebrows furrowing as you looked up at the sky, only to see bright, uninterrupted sunshine. Your eyebrows furrowed deeper. Okay... were you actually going insane?

“Did you hear that?” Steve asked quietly, looking over at you. You nodded, relieved that you weren't the only one losing your mind. But then Steve’s lips twitched into a knowing, subtle smirk. “Not in love with you, you said?” he murmured, giving you a pointed look before he turned and walked toward the center of the lawn.

You stood frozen in place for two more seconds, processing his words, before forcing your feet to move toward the rest of the team. Thor, Steve, Tony, Bruce, Scott, Nat, Clint, and even Rocket—everyone was gathered on the grass.

“Alright, listen up, children,” Tony announced, clapping his hands together. “Today we're doing partner drills. Mixed combat.” Rocket immediately hopped forward, pointing a tiny, clawed finger at you. “Pair me with Shadow! I wanna be her badass partner!”

“Why does this bunny keep yelling?” Tony muttered, rubbing his temples before looking down at the raccoon and pointing a dramatic finger across the yard. “No! Look at pointbreak over there!” He gestured toward Thor, who was standing like a dark, towering statue of menace, the grass practically singeing beneath his boots. “He's going to be her partner or we're all getting barbecued today!”

Your expression soured instantly. Okay, what the hell? Did everyone switch sides? Tony knew Thor despised you so why would he try to pair you up with him? Rocket turned his head to look at Thor, blinked at the glare the god was throwing his way, and made a startled, defensive expression. “Okay, yeah, you're right.” But then Rocket snapped his head back to Tony, baring his teeth. “I'm not a fucking bunny!”

Steve immediately interrupted, his captain instincts kicking in. “Rocket, language!” You rolled your eyes heavily. “Really, Steve?”

“Grandpa,” Tony muttered in agreement, rolling his eyes. “Alright, let's start.”

Your partner was Thor, as Tony had so graciously assigned, and standing across from you on the mats was Steve paired up with Bruce. The strategy was obvious—Bruce was meant to keep Thor occupied. The second the starting signal was given, Hulk lunged straight at Thor.

While Thor was engaged, his massive fists trading heavy blows with the green giant, he kept looking sideways at you. He was completely distracted by how easily you and Steve had slid into perfect synchronization. His blood burned hot in his veins. Focus, his mind echoed fiercely, but every time he saw Steve catch your arm to fling you into a high kick, his vision swam with red. With a roar of frustration, Thor drove a massive punch straight into the Hulk's jaw, sending the massive beast stumbling back a few heavy steps.

Meanwhile, you and Steve were moving seamlessly. You ducked low under Steve's arm, using his shoulder as leverage to drive a brutal spin-kick directly into his abdomen but he caught your foot smiling at you. You retreated yoou foot, vaulted off the ground, twisting mid-air to deliver a kick. But something that shouldn't have happened, happened. As you came down, Steve extended a hand, catching you firmly by the waist to stabilize your landing.

The moment Steve’s hands locked onto your waist, the sky changed. Thick, dark storm clouds suddenly swirled over the compound out of nowhere, completely blocking the sun in a matter of seconds. A massive, deafening rumble of thunder crashed directly overhead, accompanied by a simple, gravelly growl, “No.”

You blinked, looking over just in time to see Thor completely abandon his fight with the Hulk, turning his back on the training exercise entirely as he marched straight toward you.

“No,” he simply repeated, his face a mask of pure fury. Before you or Steve could even register what was happening, Thor reached out, his hands wrapping around your upper arms, and yanked you away from Steve, pulling you flush against his chest.

Your eyes narrowed into lethal slits, the physical contact setting your nerves on fire. “What the hell do you think you're doing?”

“I am removing you from Steve's arms,” he stated matter-of-factly, his chest heaving heavily against your back, his deep voice carrying a possessive finality.

Every single eye on the field was instantly focused on the two of you. The entire team stood frozen in pure shock—except for Steve. Steve would have been shocked too, if he hadn't just heard your confession three minutes prior.

“Thor, calm down,” Steve said evenly, raising his hands in a placating gesture.

But Thor snapped his head up, his blue eyes blazing with static electricity. “Do not talk, Steve,” he threatened, a rumble vibrating from his throat. Absolute displeasure and violence radiated off his massive frame.

“Don't,” you hissed, struggling fiercely against his iron grip, trying to wrench your arms free. “Don't you dare try to act all possessive now, when you are the one who regrets everything—“

“Regret?” Thor asked, the word cutting through his anger as he stopped, staring down at you. “Me?”

Then, to your utter fury, he let out a dark, breathless chuckle. “You are a hypocrite, Little Flame.”

Natasha took one look at the amount of tension and immediately turned to the rest of the team. “I think we should give them space.” Tony didn't even glance away, his eyes wide as he actively enjoyed the spectacle. It was like he was watching his absolute favorite primetime drama play out live. “Why? We're all outdoors. Shouldn't they be the ones to go inside for privac—“

“Tony,” Natasha said warning him.

“Okay, alright,” Tony caved, raising his hands.

He and the rest of the team quickly retreated toward the compound, but even Natasha couldn't help herself; the second they got inside, the entire lineup of Avengers pressed themselves against the glass doors, watching the drama unfold through the windows.

“What is that supposed to mean?” You countered fiercely, turning fully in his grip to face him, your chest heaving.

“You are the one who regrets everything! Flirting with Steve the second you came back—“

“Excuse me? We were not flirting!” you yelled back, chuckling in pure, broken frustration as you looked away for a split second before snapping your eyes back to his burning gaze. “We were talking, like friends do! Hold on—you don't get to question me on that, seeing as you were clearly comfortable flirting with her!”

Thor huffed, his eyebrows furrowing in genuine confusion. “Who have I flirted with?!”

“Don't play dumb now, Thor! THE RECEPTIONIST!” you screamed, the weight of the last forty-eight hours finally breaking through your defenses. Tears of hot, angry frustration built up rapidly in your eyes, blurring your vision as your voice cracked. “You left me the second the sun rose! You left the bed completely empty! And then you proceeded to go and flirt with her!”

“I was not flirting with her!” he bellowed, the desperation in his voice cracking through the thunder rolling above. “I woke up early because I wanted to surprise you,” he insisted, completely ignoring the venom dripping from your words. “You were sleeping so deeply... you looked so peaceful, and I did not want to wake you. I went down there specifically to get your favorite fruits and coffee to bring back to our quarters. That girl—she just approached me. I did not even hear a word she said, I swear it to you by the All-Father! I was only thinking of you.”

You scoffed, a broken, trembling sound. “And the smiling?” you challenged, your voice shaking despite your best efforts to keep your shields up. “You looked down at her and smiled, Thor. I saw you.”

He shook his head frantically, “I was smiling because I was happy!” he burst out, his massive chest heaving under his athletic shirt. “I was thinking about how you looked in my arms. I was thinking about what you told me before you slept. I was happy because of you, Little Flame. Not her. Never her.”

You stared up at him, your breath hitching sharply in your throat. He sounded so painfully sincere, so desperately eager to clear his name, but the cold dread of your own insecurities was still screaming in the back of your mind.

“You left the bed empty,” you whispered, your professional facade completely shattering as your voice cracked, exposing the raw, bleeding core of your heart. “You weren't there when I woke up.”

Thor froze. His eyebrows knitted together tightly as the realization of what you had been torturing yourself with finally dawned on his mind. His heart dropped straight to his stomach, a weight crushing him as he realized the terror and abandonment he had accidentally put you through.

“Oh, gods,” he breathed, his fierce, possessive expression melting into pure heartbreak. His voice cracked with emotion. “You thought I regretted it? You thought I left you?”

You looked away, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze. “You—“ You tried to speak, but a small, pathetic sniffle escaped you instead. The sound made Thor take a sharp, painful intake of breath. Moving instantly, his large hand came up, his fingers gently but firmly holding your chin to force your face back up so you had to look at him.

“I do not regret it. I could never regret it,” he said, his blue eyes swimming with a matching pain as he looked down at your tear-stained face.

You sniffled again, looking up at him through wet lashes. Your heart was beating frantically against your ribs, a spark of dangerous, beautiful hope flaring to life in your chest. Taking a breath, you asked something you never, in a million years, thought you would ever ask the arrogant god.

“Do you like me?” you whispered, your small hand coming up to hold the thick wrist of the arm holding your chin.

Thor's face immediately scrunched up into a deeply offended, dismissive expression. “Not so much.”

Your heart instantly dropped straight to your stomach, the rejection freezing your blood. “But you—“

Before you could finish the sentence, Thor reached out and grabbed your cheeks with both of his massive hands, tilting your head up as he brought his mouth down on yours. He kissed you deeply, passionately, a bruising, breathless possession that completely wiped all thoughts from your brain. When he finally pulled back just a fraction, his thumbs wiping the fresh tears from your cheeks, he continued his sentence.

“I do not like you. I am completely and utterly in love with you,” he confessed, the words hitting you right in the center of your chest.

A startled, watery laugh bubbled out of your throat. “You dumbass,” you chuckled, your hands moving to grip his forearms as a massive, radiant smile finally broke across your face. “Why would you word it like that?” Thor didn't care about his poor phrasing; his eyes were boring into yours with an intense, desperate seriousness. “Do you?” he asked, looking down at you with adoration.

“Do I what?”

“Regret it,”

“I don't,” you said, shaking your head without a single second of hesitation. “Why would I, when you are the man I am completely in love with?” you whispered, finally letting the confession pass your lips.

Thor’s blue eyes lit up like a blinding flash of lightning. A breathtaking smile split his handsome face, and without waiting another syllable, he slammed his lips back onto yours, kissing you with a ferocious, joyful hunger.

“I do not know what is wrong with me, Little Flame,” he mumbled against your lips between deep, bruising kisses. “I do not know how I did not realize sooner how pathetically in love I am with you.” His large hands slid down from your face, wrapping firmly around your waist and lifting you slightly off the grass to deepen the kiss, completely forgetting they were standing in the middle of a compound training field.

Inside the building, behind the massive glass doors, the entire lineup of Avengers was pressed flat against the window. Tony was rooted completely in place, his mouth agape, his hands raised in bewilderment. “Are you guys seeing what I am seeing, or am I hallucinating? Is Point break currently kissing Shadow?” Natasha stood next to him, a triumphant, knowing smirk spreading across her lips as she crossed her arms. “About damn time.”

Outside, Thor kept kissing you thoroughly, but suddenly, he pulled his face away by a mere inch. Your eyebrows knitted together in immediate irritation at the loss of contact. “What is it?” You asked. Thor hesitated, his jaw flexing as he muttered just one word, the lingering jealousy still clear in his tone: “Steve?”

You rolled your eyes, letting out a breathless laugh as you locked your hands behind his neck and pulled his head right back down to your lips. “Don't piss me off while I'm kissing you,” you murmured against his mouth.

Thor let out a low, vibrating hum of pure compliance against your lips. “You are right, I’m sorry, I love you,” he mumbled onto your mouth, his grip on your waist tightening as he buried his face back into yours.

—

Masterlist

Taglist: @sinceimetyou @awkwardgiraffe726 @midasgard @mediocre-introvert @gurlidkiread @claytaysversion @landocat

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORK TO BE FED INTO ANY AI BOTS. THIS INCLUDES CHARACTER.AI, JANITOR.AI, ETC. I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORKS TO BE TRANSLATED, REPOSTED, REWORKED IN ANY WAY, SHAPE OR FORM.

[smgespn]

Not So Much

Masterlist

Pairing: Thor Odinson X Reader

Summary: He was your teammate but also the person you disliked the most in the universe. He was always loud, he thrived on impulsive decisions, and he loved annoying you. You were the opposite, you moved through shadows quietly, analyzed every move before you made them. And now? They were sending you on a mission with him. Just the two of you. As husband and wife.

Content: Fake Marriage, Enemies To Lovers, Forced Proximity, Yearning, Tension, Slow Burn, Angst, Infinity War-Endgame Thor, King Thor, Protective Thor, Jealous Thor, Possessive Thor, Jealous Reader, They Are Touching Each Other Every Chance They Get, Bickering Final Boss, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Explicit SMUT (It starts from '—', and ends with it so you can skip it if you want)

Word Count: 40k

Note: I live for annoying but sweet Thor 😭 His most dominant personality traits i swear and the way he gets angry FAST😛 My mannn fr (took me a whole month to write this, not proofread sorry for any typos or mistakes)

Minors Do Not Interact

—

You wanted to kill him.

You wanted, with every fiber of your being, to wrap your hands around his thick, infuriating neck and choke the life out of him right there on the polished marble floor of the Avengers Compound kitchen. It was a beautiful, violent fantasy that played in your mind in vivid detail—but unfortunately for you, the man was a damn god, and your fingers would probably snap before his airway even constricted.

“I said no, Thor. I got here first,” you hissed, your voice a sharp, venomous whisper as you slammed your shoulder into his side, trying to forcefully shove his massive frame away from the espresso machine.

The sleek chrome appliance sat on the counter like a holy grail, reflecting the harsh morning light. At this ungodly hour, that single machine was the only thing bonding your soul to the realm of the living. You just loved your morning coffee too much. It was the one ritual that made your life feel somewhat normal. And he, as always, was standing squarely in the way—demanding, with all the unearned arrogance of Asgardian royalty, that he be the first one to use it.

“Stop pushing me away, will you? It does nothing but tickle me, Little Flame,” he grumbled, a deep sound that came from somewhere deep in his broad chest.

He didn't even look at you, his eyes fixed on the digital screen of the machine as his large hands came down to carelessly pry your fingers off his waist. Your eyes narrowed into lethal slits, the heat rising in your cheeks at the sound of the ridiculous nickname and the casual condescension dripping from his tone.

“I have been telling you for years, Thor, stop calling me that,” you snapped, pulling your hands back and crossing them over your chest in a furious, protective stance. “And what is that supposed to mean? Are you implying that I’m weak?”

Thor finally turned his head, his short, textured blonde hair catching the fluorescent lights. A lazy, incredibly punchable smirk broke across his handsome face. He held his massive, heavily muscled arm out horizontally, creating an unbreakable physical barrier that completely blocked you from reaching the coffee pods.

“Why? I think it rather suits you. Feisty little—”

Before he could finish the sentence, you slapped his forearm with a loud, resounding smack, grabbing his wrist with both hands and pulling down with all your weight, trying to rip his arm away from the machine. It was like trying to move a mountain with a piece of string.

“Weaker than me, surely,” he said, his smirk widening as he easily kept his arm locked in place against your full-body strain.

Okay, fine. He was stating a cold, unyielding fact. He was a cosmic entity. He was objectively, biologically stronger than you. Your cell structure had been locked in a permanent, un-aging loop by a rogue lab experiment, giving you endless youth and an unbreakable healing factor—not the brute strength to wrestle the God of Thunder. But you would rather walk barefoot on needles than ever admit his physical superiority to his face.

“What are you two bickering about again?”

Natasha’s exhausted, monotone voice sliced through the tension. She walked into the kitchen, holding an empty mug, her green eyes fixed on the two of you with the heavy, soul-deep weariness of a woman who was entirely done with you being at each other's throats every five minutes.

That was the true tragedy of your existence. Outside the reinforced walls of this compound, Thor was a global icon. He was the golden savior, a benevolent, charming god who was nice to every single human being he encountered. If you went to the press and told them how much he absolutely loved to torment, provoke, and annoy you on a daily basis, not a single soul on Earth would believe you. To the rest of the universe, he was a god. To you, he was a giant, golden-retriever-brained nuisance.

Your left eye literally twitched with fury as you whipped your head around to face Nat. “He’s being a child again!”

“I am only in need of my morning beverage—” Thor protested smoothly.

“I got here first!” You spun back toward him, throwing your hands up in the air, your eyes wide with erratic anger.

“And I will be drinking my coffee, first,” he replied with a smug tilt of his chin.

Before you could lunge forward to block him, his large fingers immediately darted past your face and pushed the start button. The machine whirred to life, a dark stream of espresso pouring directly into the ceramic cup you had painstakingly selected and placed there a minute ago.

Thor watched the liquid fill the mug, leaning his hip against the counter as he grabbed the handle. “See? Easy as that,” he mumbled, grinning straight into the steam as he took a slow, loud, deliberate sip right in front of your face.

Your face went a furious, burning red. Your breath hitched, your vision blurring with a wave of pure, chaotic rage. You wanted to grab that hot mug straight out of his hand and throw the boiling liquid right over his clean grey t-shirt. You wanted to watch the stain spread across his chest while you laughed in his face.

Honestly? That was a damn good idea. Your muscles coiled, your fingers twitching as you prepared to lunge at him and commit a felony.

But just as your sneakers gripped the tile, Natasha let out a sharp, interrupting sigh. “The team is waiting for you in the briefing room,” she said, turning on her heel and gesturing toward the sliding glass doors of the hallway. “Let’s go, lovebirds.”

The words cut through the kitchen like a sudden frost. You and Thor both froze instantly, the childish hostility evaporating into a stunned, icy paralysis.

“What?” you said in perfect unison. The word tore from your throats at the exact same second, your voices blending together as you both whipped your heads around to look at Natasha. But she didn't stop to explain—she simply walked down the corridor toward the war room, a wicked, knowing smirk playing on the corner of her lips as she left the two of you standing in the quiet kitchen, completely blindsided by the ominous weight of her words.

“Fucking weirdos everywhere,” you grumbled under your breath.

Before he could even swallow his next stolen sip, you forcefully jammed your palms right into the center of his chest. You used every single ounce of strength your muscles could muster up, throwing your entire body weight into the strike. You needed that damn coffee, and you would get that damn coffee.

Thor actually stumbled back a step, a booming chuckle ripping from his throat at the absolute volatility of your expression. You were completely furious. He honestly had no idea why annoying you brought him such immense satisfaction, but it did. It was an addiction at this point.

In his eyes, you were just absolutely no fun. From the very first day he met you, you had done nothing but jab at him for being too loud and obvious. You were always rolling your eyes, saying things like, “You only know how to smash things and be reckless, Thor,” and “Stealth is an actual concept, you know?”

Now, Thor didn't dislike a lot of people. He was a damn lovable person—the golden boy of the Nine Realms, and now, an absolutely attentive king. But when it came to you? He couldn't help it. You rubbed him the wrong way all the damn time, your sharp tongue grating on his nerves. He could say with absolute, unyielding certainty that he disliked you. A lot.

You were still grumbling under your breath about him stealing your favorite ceramic mug when you noticed his massive shadow was still hovering directly over you.

“Why are you still here?” you asked, your voice coming out far more irritated than it should have. You internally cursed yourself; you were giving him way too much power over your emotions.

“I simply want to watch you sip on your beverage after me,” he said, flashing you a brilliant, smug smile.

You huffed, grabbing your freshly poured cup from the machine. “Thor, just call it coffee. Calling it a beverage does not make it sound any fancier.”

You slid past his broad shoulder, taking a deliberate, aggressive sip of your drink before making your way toward the sliding glass doors of the briefing room. He immediately fell into step behind you, his massive, sweeping strides matching yours in a pure, frustrating rhythm.

“It does sound better when I call it a beverage,” he argued, his heavy leather boots thudding loudly against the floorboards as if he could make his statement more convincing by physical force.

“Sure, lord of thunder,” you murmured, a wicked, knowing smirk pulling at your lips. You knew exactly which buttons to push, and that specific title was your absolute favorite weapon.

“I am the god of thunder!” he hissed from behind you, his voice dropping into a defensive, offended rumble. “You know what? I know you are doing this on purpose—you are intentionally trying to—”

You pushed through the glass doors, entering the sleek, high-tech briefing room with the God of Thunder hot on your heels, still fiercely grumbling about the distinct theological differences between a lord and a god.

“Ah, our favorite couple, arguing again,” Tony said loudly, opening his arms wide in a dramatic, welcoming gesture from the head of the conference table. He leaned back in his chair, a classic, mischievous glint in his eyes. “Still not able to decide whether they want to kill each other or fuck—“

Before the final, crude word could even leave his mouth, your reflexes took over. Your hand blurred. You snatched a thick, heavy tactical folder from the edge of the table and launched it through the air with lethal, pinpoint precision.

Smack. The folder hit Tony squarely across the bridge of his nose, the papers scattering in a neat halo around his chair.

“Ow! Okay, there was absolutely no need for that,” Tony muttered, wincing as he gingerly adjusted his tinted glasses, though the smirk never truly left his face. He looked over at Natasha and Steve, who were already seated, completely unfazed by the morning violence.

“You talk too much, Stark,” Thor grumbled, pulling out a chair and dropping his massive frame into it with a loud thud that resonated through the room.

Your eyebrows shot up instantly as you sat down yourself. “Says you?” you retorted, gesturing toward his broad chest with your coffee mug. “You literally haven't shut up since the kitchen.”

“Let’s just focus on our objective, okay, guys?” Steve said, running a tired palm over his face, completely done with your collective energy so early in the morning. He pushed himself up from his seat next to Tony, leaning his broad shoulders over the holographic table to command the room.

Steve tapped the digital console, and the lights in the briefing room dimmed instantly, replaced by a glowing, three-dimensional blueprint of an ultra-private luxury island floating in the Mediterranean.

“Our focus is here: The Sanctuary,” Steve began, his voice dropping into his serious captain tone. “On paper, it’s an exclusive, hyper-secure resort for the world's billionaires, corrupt politicians, and elite criminals. But over the last forty-eight hours, our satellites intercepted an unencrypted dark-web signal bouncing from the island’s lower levels. A rogue faction has managed to smuggle a massive cache of volatile, leftover Dark Elf technology onto the premises. They’re hosting a private, black-market auction to sell it off to the highest bidder.”

You leaned forward, your brain instantly analyzing the island's perimeter. “So we drop in, neutralize the buyers, and secure the tech. Sounds like a standard Tuesday. Why are we all sitting here?”

“Because it’s a hostage situation waiting to happen if we go in loud,” Natasha spoke up from the corner, her fingers tapping against her tablet. “The entire island is rigged with a quantum-fission failsafe connected to the central vault. If the resort’s biometric security detects a frontal assault, a breach, or a single Quinjet on their radar, the system will instantly detonate the alien cache. It’ll vaporize the island and take half of Western Europe out with the blast wave. It requires a ghost to dismantle the failsafe from the inside.”

“A ghost?” you repeated, a slow, dark smile creeping onto your face. “Perfect. I’ll go in undercover as a maid, slip into the server room, kill the signal, and leave before anyone even finishes their champagne.”

“You’re half right,” Tony cut in, tapping his pen against his cheek. “You are going undercover. But you’re not going as a maid, Shadow. The resort has a strict, biometric-level verification system for all service staff, but their guest list is curated entirely by the billionaire owner—an eccentric, power-obsessed arms dealer named Moretti. He has a strict ‘No Media, Couples Only’ policy for his guests to protect their privacy.”

Tony smirked, leaning forward and typing a command into his console. The holographic display shifted from the island to a digital invitation, written in gold lettering, making your eyes go wide. No.

“Moretti is obsessed with power, gods, and mythology,” Tony explained, his eyes darting between you and the blonde King sitting across from you. “He doesn't just want money; he wants prestige. So, we gave him exactly what he wanted. We leaked a carefully staged, ‘top-secret’ paparazzi photo to the press this morning. The official narrative? The newly crowned King of Asgard has secretly retired from his bachelor days and eloped with a fierce, mysterious warrior woman.”

Your breath hitched violently in your throat. The coffee in your mug suddenly felt like acid.

“What?” you whispered, your heart stopping. You were an Avenger; you were known to the world, but you operated mostly in the quiet, precise darkness. To be thrust into the center of attention like this was your worst nightmare.

Thor froze, his hand stopping mid-air as he went to scratch his short blonde beard. His blue eyes went incredibly wide as he stared at the holographic invitation. “Stark—what madness are you speaking of?”

“It’s simple, lovebirds,” Natasha said, her voice laced with an infuriatingly calm amusement. “Moretti swallowed the bait hook, line, and sinker. The moment he saw the news that the King Of Asgard was on a secret honeymoon, he personally sent out an exclusive, all-access VIP invitation to the royal couple. You two are the ultimate distraction.”

Steve looked at the two of you, his expression sympathetic but unyielding. “Thor keeps all eyes on him by playing the loud, boastful, larger-than-life husband, giving you the perfect cover to move through the high-society crowds, slip into the shadows, and quietly dismantle the failsafe without triggering the biometric alarms. You need his status to get through the front door, and he needs your precision to make sure the island doesn't explode.”

“You expect me,” you said slowly, your voice dropping into a lethal, dangerous sound as you pointed a finger across the table, “to pretend to be blissfully, passionately in love with him? For how long exactly?”

“Not a soul here but you said passionately—“ Thor grumbled but was cut off by you, “Shut up, will you?”

Thor’s hands twitched, like he was holding himself from doing something irrational. He sighed a long breath, trying to compose himself, he didn’t think he could do this. Why did it have to be you, of all people?

But your skills in being a ghost were too good—too fucking perfect for your own good. So he knew the reason why it had to be you, but he protested anyway, he turned to Steve, “I do not see why she should be the one coming with me—“

You didn’t let him finish, rolling your eyes as you said “I’m not loving the idea either—“

“Depends on you, really. Could just be two days or a whole week.“ Steve said cutting both of you off as he looked at the both of you, clearly distressed at your brewing argument, again. “An entire week?” you said, your voice dripping with irritation, your jaw locking at the mere thought of it.

“Hey, it’s a tough gig, but someone’s gotta do it,” Tony chuckled, completely ignoring the murderous look you were throwing him across the table. “Congratulations, kids. Pack your bags. You’re going on a honeymoon.”

—

You were huffing and puffing as you aggressively packed your suitcases—yes, suitcases, plural.

You were practically tearing through your wardrobe, shoving in dresses, hats, sunglasses, and anything else you could get your hands on, entirely leaving the burden of actually coordinating an outfit for later. The second you had escaped the briefing room, you had fled to your quarters. The news was still pouring over you like boiling water, making your skin burn with a restless, defensive heat just thinking about it.

How the hell were you going to pretend to be his wife?

The only thing you were biologically capable of doing near that man was yelling at him, throwing files at his head, or arguing until you were blue in the face. He got on your nerves every single second of the day, provoking you with that smug arrogance of his, making you want to literally peel your own skin off your bones just to escape his proximity. And now you were supposed to look into his blue eyes and play the part of a blushing, smitten bride on a Mediterranean honeymoon. It was sick. It was a comedy of errors written by a cruel universe.

As you slammed another folded gown into the suitcase, your movements suddenly slowed. Your eyes caught sight of the faint, jagged scars marring the skin over your forearms and stomach.

A sudden, heavy wave of insecurity bubbled up inside your chest, overtaking the rage. The thought of being forced into revealing resort wear—of being paraded around an island full of hyper-critical, judgmental billionaires who you knew would dissect your every flaw—infiltrated your mind.

Usually, you were secure in your own skin. You were an Avenger, for God's sake. You were a lethal weapon, and honestly, you did wear dresses when the occasion called for it. But in this context? Under the blinding, global spotlight? You felt like a fraud. You felt like every single pair of eyes on that island would be glued to you, the judgmental, elitist sneers of high society cutting right through you simply because you were Thor’s goddamn wife. You were the woman who had supposedly tamed the King of Asgard, and they would be looking for any reason to tear you apart.

The scars were a permanent, physical gift from your torturers. The monsters who had turned you immortal years ago.

You could not die of age. You could not fall succumb to diseases. Even lethal wounds healed seamlessly within hours if properly attended to. You were stuck living like this forever, the terrifying nightmares from those months in the lab still playing in your mind night after night, making your throat go completely sore as you woke up screaming for them to stop. The experiments had broken your human limitations, locking your cellular structure in a permanent, un-aging loop.

You sharply rubbed at your eyes with the palms of your hands, trying to force the horrific memories to flee from your mind. The ghosts of your past loved to haunt you wherever you went, but you couldn't afford a breakdown today. Not with a flight to catch.

Letting out a heavy, defeated sigh, you declared yourself done with the chaotic packing. You bit your lip anxiously as you got ready for the travel day, pulling a simple, breezy white summer dress over your frame. The fabric flared gently around your knees, and you slid your feet into a pair of modest kitten heels. Finally, you pulled a soft white cardigan over your shoulders, fastening a few buttons, strictly wanting to ensure you wouldn't freeze before you reached your destination. You took one last look in the mirror, masking the assassin, masking the scars, and preparing to face your fate.

As you opened the door, struggling to maneuver your suitcases out of the room, you immediately heard his voice booming down the corridor.

“How are you going to carry those by yourself?” Thor asked, leaning against the wall with a wicked, entirely too handsome smile plastered across his face.

He was obviously going to help you. If the King of Asgard was anything, he was a gentleman down to his very bones—but he didn't just want to be helpful. He wanted to hear the words come out of your mouth. He wanted you to look him in the eye and actively admit that you needed his help. He knew you would absolutely hate doing it, which only made him crave it more.

“I can handle myself just fine,” you breathed out defensively. You leaned your weight back, using the rolling wheels of the suitcases to your advantage. Your pride was still firmly intact because you could easily drag them behind you on a flat surface, but you knew deep down that you couldn't physically lift both of these giant, overpacked cases at the same time down a flight of stairs. But he most definitely did not need to know that.

“Oh? So you don’t need any assistance at all?” he remarked smoothly. He was casually carrying his own massive tactical suitcase in one hand by the handle, his arm barely flexing. It was probably like holding a mosquito between his fingers for him.

“No. Especially not from you,” you huffed, your heels clicking sharply against the tile as you tried to wheel past him, clearly getting irritated by his mere existence.

“Hm,” he just mumbled, a deeply amused sound vibrating in his throat as he turned and watched you walk over to the elevator banks.

You aggressively pressed the down button, silently begging the universe for the doors to open as fast as humanly possible. You could feel Thor’s massive presence looming right behind you, practically radiating an eager energy, just waiting for another opportunity to prod at you.

“What are you waiting for?” you asked, your voice incredibly tight from pure annoyance.

He chuckled, the sound low and rumbling. “For the elevator, Little Flame. Same as you.”

You could feel his massive, broad frame standing directly behind your back. Even though there were a few inches of space separating you, he was like a literal furnace, a heavy, intoxicating heat radiating off his body and wrapping around your shoulders.

You rolled your eyes at the ceiling. “You can carry your own suitcase. I don't see why—” You abruptly cut yourself off, closing your eyes tightly, your face scrunching up in disdain.

Fuck. You had just walked right into his trap.

“Oh, so you cannot carry yours?” he prodded instantly, his tone dripping with sheer amusement. Your eyes opened back up immediately.

Where was this fucking elevator?!

Realizing the lift was taking too long, you sharply turned around to face him. Your bruised, stubborn ego completely hijacked your brain, making you snap at him before you could stop yourself. “I very much can!”

Thor looked down at you, his blue eyes sparkling with a level of amusement that was bordering on infuriating. “Oh, please, be my guest, will you?” He dramatically extended his free hand, gesturing toward the grand concrete staircase at the end of the hall. You huffed a sharp breath through your nose, your jaw locking. “Fine.”

You spun on your heels, deliberately dragging your heavy suitcases over to the very edge of the stairs, desperately delaying the exact moment you would actually have to lift them. When you finally reached the top step, you stopped and stared down at the luggage, your brain going into overdrive as you calculated the weight distribution.

Thor followed you, enjoying every single second of this entirely too much. Even his stance—weight shifted to one hip, a smirk playing on his lips—radiated absolute satisfaction.

“Struggling there?” he asked, taking a deliberate step closer to you.

“Not at all,” you lied through your teeth. Your eyes narrowed into lethal slits as you stared at him, and out of pure, stubborn stupidity, you grabbed the handles of both massive suitcases.

Bracing yourself in your goddamn kitten heels, you attempted to lift them both off the ground at the exact same time.

But the second your muscles tensed and you yanked them up, the combined, brutal weight of the luggage completely threw off your center of gravity. Your body violently swung forward toward the edge of the stairs, the momentum dragging you directly downward. A sharp, terrified yelp tore from your throat as your foot slipped on the smooth edge. You closed your eyes, waiting for the inevitable impact.

You were definitely going down. You were going to roll down a flight of concrete stairs in a white summer dress, become the laughing stock of the entire Avengers Compound, and probably severely injure yourself—meaning you'd have to hobble around the island waiting for your powers to slowly knit your bones back together. Amazing. Brilliant execution, babe, bravo.

But just as those thoughts raced through your mind, they disappeared entirely.

A massive, incredibly solid arm suddenly wrapped like an iron band around your waist. With one effortless, powerful pull, he caught your entire body weight, dragging you firmly back from the edge of the abyss and slamming your back flush against his broad, solid chest.

You opened your eyes—which you hadn't even realized you'd squeezed shut—and let out a shaky, breathless sigh of pure relief. Your heart was hammering like a drum against your ribs.

“Perhaps now, you will admit that you need me to carry them for you,” he mumbled. His voice was a gravelly rasp right against the back of your ear, his warm breath fanning across your skin and causing a shiver of goosebumps to erupt down your neck and arms.

Your breath caught. You quickly huffed, using your hands to pry his heavy arm away from your waist. The skin beneath your dress was practically burning from his touch, but you absolutely did not have the mental capacity to dwell on that right now.

You turned around to face him, your cheeks flushed, your expression a mixture of distress and absolute fury that you had just proven him entirely right.

“Fine,” you said, your voice tight and defeated.

Thor didn't move an inch out of your personal space. He looked down at you, his eyes slowly tracing over your flushed face and your white dress, a smug, triumphant look in his gaze.

“Fine, what?” he challenged softly, wanting every single syllable of his victory.

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, your pride fiercely battling against the cold reality of the situation. You darted a desperate look toward the elevator, but the glowing digital screen indicated it was still stuck on a lower floor. Frustrated and completely cornered, you aggressively slammed your right foot down against the tile floor like a spoiled child. He always brought that irritating, uncharacteristic side out of you.

“Okay,” you snapped, completely averting your gaze from his face as you mumbled, “Ineedyoutocarrymyluggageforme.”

The words tumbled out of your mouth in a single, rushed, completely unintelligible breath, your eyes locked onto the center of his chest.

“What?” Thor chuckled again, the hilarious sight of you stomping your foot and speaking at supersonic speed catching him entirely off guard. A deep, rumble of laughter shook his chest. “I did not quite get that, Little Flame. Can you say it again?” He was enjoying this far too much for his own good, the smug triumph radiating off him in waves.

“I need you to carry my luggage for me,” you enunciated sharply, every word dripping with pure annoyance.

Instead of just taking the win, Thor brought a thick finger to his chin, tapping it as if he were lost in deep thought. He scrunched up his handsome face, tilting his head. “I don’t think that was a really nice way of asking someone to carry your ginormous suitcases for you.”

“Ugh!” You let out a loud, frustrated yell, throwing your hands down to your sides as you forced yourself to look him dead in his sparkling blue eyes. “Will you please carry my luggage for me?”

He smiled triumphantly, his entire face lighting up like a kid on Christmas morning. He finally stepped forward and grabbed your two bags, arranging them in perfect order back-to-back so their elongated handles lined up close together. Then, with a single, massive hand, he closed his fingers over both handles at once. With his own tactical suitcase in his other hand, he effortlessly lifted all three massive bags off the floor without a single hint of strain.

The elevator suddenly dinged, the doors sliding open just as he hoisted the luggage into the air. Ordinarily, you would have completely lost your temper at timing like that. You would have cursed the universe out loud for making you beg for help only for the elevator to arrive a second later.

But the words died in your throat.

The sight of him carrying all three heavy suitcases at once made you breathe in a sharp, sudden gasp. Your pulse skipped a beat in your chest, and your eyes involuntarily roamed all over his frame. He had changed out of his grey t-shirt before coming to your door; he was now wearing a tight black t-shirt that hugged the broad expanse of his chest and shoulders, paired with tailored charcoal linen pants and black loafers.

He looked good. So fucking hot, in fact, that it sent an unexpected, electric tingle shooting straight through your core and settling deep in your stomach. The sight of his veins popping and his massive biceps bulging as he easily carried the weight of your entire life in one hand was—

What the fuck? What the hell was wrong with you?

You were fully aware that the King of Asgard possessed heart-stoppingly good looks—the entire planet was aware of it—but his infuriating behaviour toward you usually stopped you from ever enjoying the sight. You were supposed to dislike him. You were rivals. But what the fuck had just happened to your brain?

You sharply cleared your throat, forcefully tearing your eyes away from his arms as your cheeks burned a bright, furious crimson. Desperate to hide your sudden fluster, you quickly turned and marched past him, going down the staird in a fastened pace.

Thor smoothly followed behind you, his loafers making zero noise on the concrete, while your heels clicked loudly and rapidly down the steps, echoing your erratic, racing heartbeat.

Thor was watching you walk down the stairs before him, still visibly fuming that he had managed to break your stubborn streak and force a please out of your mouth. He was utterly relishing the victory, a brilliant, smug smile that practically screamed he had won etched across his handsome features while he effortlessly balanced your massive luggage in his grip.

But his smugness didn't last long.

You huffed, stopping for a brief second on the landing. With a fluid, deliberate motion, you slid your white cardigan off your shoulders, pooling the fabric into one hand. The sudden movement exposed the sharp, elegant lines of your collarbones in the strapless white dress. You flipped your hair to one side, completely baring the smooth expanse of your neck to the air—and to him. Then, as if you couldn't quite decide what kind of sensory torture you wanted to execute on the King of Asgard, you started heading down the remaining stairs, your hips swaying with a natural, intoxicating rhythm.

Thor took a sudden, sharp breath at the sight before him. His blue eyes went wide, running over your frame, completely unable to decide where to look. His gaze got hopelessly caught on the soft curve of your shoulders, the narrow dip of your waist, the hypnotic roll of your hips.

A hot rush of blood surged to his head. His breath caught violently in his chest, and for the first time in his immortal life, the God of Thunder actually stumbled on a concrete step. His black loafer clipped the edge, his chest heaving as he quickly caught himself.

What the actual hell was happening? He was well aware that you were breathtaking; he had seen the way people’s heads turned whenever you walked into a room without you even trying. But this? This reaction was entirely uncalled for. He disliked you. He disliked your sharp tongue and the way you always had a quip ready to jab at him. He shouldn't be admiring you, yet his heart was currently hammering against his ribs like a war drum.

Hearing his sudden, heavy stumble, you paused and turned your head back to see what was wrong. You found him standing a few steps above you, his jaw slightly slack. A wicked smile slowly bloomed across your face.

“What was that, Your Majesty? Are they too much for you to carry?” you taunted, shifting your body so your chest was fully turned toward him.

Thor’s eyes helplessly drifted downward to your now fully visible chest, his breath catching for a second time that day. The flush on his neck deepened. He aggressively cleared his throat, forcing his eyes up to meet your smirking face.

“Hah! I can move literal mountains, Little Flame. These trinkets are nothing to me,” he mumbled defensively, his voice a bit more rushed than usual. “I simply lost my balance is all.”

Desperate to escape your mocking gaze, he practically ran down the remaining stairs, his loafers squeaking slightly against the polished concrete as he hurried into the main lobby with all three suitcases clutched tightly in his hands.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you watched him go, continuing your descent. The discarded cardigan remained clutched in your hand; you felt entirely too hot, your own racing thoughts making your skin flush. You gulped, trying to aggressively shoo the bizarre tension out of your mind. You hated him. You needed to get a grip.

When you finally reached the expansive glass entrance of the compound, Thor was already standing there, deep in a heated discussion with Tony.

“Why spend hours traveling in one of your metal birds when we can get there in seconds?” Thor was arguing, his brow furrowed in genuine, godly confusion.

Tony turned toward you as you approached, a wicked, entirely too amused smirk lighting up his face. “Ah, perfect timing, Shadow. Point Break here is staging a mutiny. He says you two don't need to board a plane or take a Quinjet.”

“How come?” you asked, your blood suddenly running cold. An ominous weight dropped into your stomach because you could already guess exactly what the god of thunder had in mind.

“Stormbreaker can take us across the world in seconds,” Thor said, turning his massive frame toward you, completely serious.

“But—” you started, your mind frantically grasping for any viable excuse to avoid being that physically close to him for a cosmic teleportation ride. “But how will you carry the luggage while we traverse realms? It’s impossible.”

“You just hold onto me, and I will handle the rest,” he said easily, dismissively, as if he were explaining the most simple, mundane task in the world. You swallowed hard, your heart doing a strange flip. “But Thor, you have to hold Stormbreaker in one hand, and the luggage in the other. What about me? Where am I supposed to go?”

Thor let out a sharp, irritated huff, clearly done with you dragging out the inevitable. “I said I will handle it. Now, let us go.”

He turned away, marching through the sliding glass doors into the bright morning air. He dropped his own suitcase onto the concrete pavement and extended his right hand toward the sky. Within a split second, a loud, crackling boom echoed through the compound as the massive, heavy blade of Stormbreaker flew from his room straight into his waiting palm.

With practiced, terrifying strength, he gathered the handles of all three massive suitcases into his other hand, hoisting them up effortlessly. He turned his head, his short blonde hair catching the sunlight, and motioned sharply with his chin for you to come closer.

You narrowed your eyes at him stubbornly, crossing your arms over your chest. “What if I don’t want to—” Before you could even finish your protest, Thor’s patience snapped. In one swift, blur of a movement, his massive hand shot out and grabbed you firmly by the wrist.

You let out a sharp yelp as he effortlessly yanked you forward into his personal space, his strength completely overriding your balance. He forcefully guided your arms around his thick middle, pulling you so close that your cheek was muffled right against the hard, solid muscle of his chest.

You could feel his heavy pectoral muscles instantly tighten at the sudden contact, a wave of intense, radiating heat washing over you. Before you could even open your mouth to yell at him for handling you so roughly, his deep, rumbling voice vibrated right through his chest wall against your ear. “Hold on tight.” And with a sudden, blinding flash of blue electricity, he raised Stormbreaker high into the sky.

A blinding burst of color erupted all around you as the Bifrost engulfed you both. The roaring force of the cosmic energy threatened to rip you away, and you instinctively closed your eyes tightly, holding yourself steady by gluing your body entirely to his. Your fingers dug firmly into the fabric of his shirt, pulling yourself so close that there wasn’t a single millimeter of space left between your chest and his.

Then, just as quickly as it had begun, the rushing roar vanished.

You felt your heels solidly touch the ground, arriving at your destination in a second. For a moment, your hands remained tightly locked around his middle and your face was still pressed right against the warm, hard muscle of his chest, you could hear his heartbeat thudding against his ribs.

Slowly, you forced your eyes open and pulled your face back, blinking against the sudden, brilliant glare of the Mediterranean sun.

The Sanctuary stretched out before you, you were standing on a private, pristine white-stone terrace that overlooked a sprawling, crescent-shaped bay. The water below was a blinding, translucent turquoise, so clear that you could see the dark, shifting shadows of coral reefs deep beneath the surface. Sleek, multi-million-dollar superyachts were anchored in the distance, polished and gleaming under the midday sun.

The resort itself was built directly into the towering, sun-bleached cliffs of the island. It was a marvel of modern, minimalist design blended with ancient luxury—all clean white concrete, floor-to-ceiling glass panels, and cascading infinity pools that seemed to spill directly into the ocean below. Lavish, vibrant pink bougainvillea and lush green palms draped over stone walkways, softening the sharp lines of the villas.

Your nostrills filled with the scent of saltwater, expensive citrus perfume, and blooming jasmine. In the distance, you could hear the faint, muted clinking of crystal glasses and the smooth, ambient lounge music drifting from an exclusive beachfront pavilion. It was entirely peaceful, completely hidden from the rest of the world, and crawling with some of the most dangerous, corrupt elite on the planet.

You let out a slow breath, your eyes immediately mapping out the security cameras hidden in the palm trees and the heavily armed guards dressed in casual, matching resort linen suits.

“You can let go of me now, Little Flame,” Thor’s deep voice murmured directly above you, a distinct trace of that familiar, smug amusement vibrating right against your hands. “Unless, of course, you are already enjoying the perks of marriage.”

You blinked, sharply pushing yourself away from his broad chest. “You wish,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes as you aggressively smoothed down the wrinkled fabric of your white summer dress. “I’m not exactly into lords, anyway. I prefer a much stronger title.”

“Good thing I am not a lord, then,” he replied smoothly. For the first time, he didn't get defensive or angry at the jab. Instead, he just stood there, smiling down at you with a gaze so wicked that you could practically feel the blood rushing straight to your head.

You internally groaned, chastising yourself. Stupid girl. You really should have thought beforehand that he would turn your own words right back on you like that. But before your scrambled brain could piece together a proper, biting retort, the heavy footsteps of the resort's security staff cut you off.

“Are you invited, sir?”

A burly bodyguard in a pristine, light-blue linen suit approached the two of you. His voice was laced with a deep, unmistakable tone of respect; he clearly recognized the King of Asgard, but he was trying to maintain the island's strict protocol.

“Yes,” you intervened seamlessly, sliding in front of Thor. Your training kicked in instantly, and a perfected, dazzling smile etched itself onto your face. You held up your phone, displaying the exclusive, gold-rimmed digital invitation Tony had intercepted.

The bodyguard scanned the screen, nodding, but his cautious gaze quickly drifted down to the massive, terrifying axe gripped firmly in Thor's left hand. “We... do not allow weapons on the resort grounds, sir. If you could leave it with security—”

“Ah, that is easily remedied,” Thor interrupted cheerfully. With a casual flick of his wrist, the massive, razor-sharp blade of Stormbreaker melted away, shrinking down until it transformed into a simple, polished black umbrella. You whipped your head around to look at the object, completely deadpan. “An umbrella? In this weather?” you muttered, gesturing to the cloudless, blazing mediterranean sky.

Thor’s eyebrows furrowed at you, his jaw tightening in annoyance at your public critique. “Well, there is something called a summer rain, sweetheart,” he said, faking an incredibly sweet, doting smile for the sake of the watchibg guard, though his blue eyes promised absolute murder.

“I don’t think it’s going to rain anytime soon, honey,” you shot back, your voice dripping with a deep, sickeningly fake sugary sweetness as your own plastic smile widened. Before you could take another breath, Thor’s massive arm suddenly shot out, wrapping securely around your waist and forcefully dragging you flush into his side for a tight, suffocating hug.

A sharp, undignified yelp tore from your throat at the sudden impact, but you quickly cleared your throat, masking your shock as you gripped his forearm. He was absolutely enjoying torturing you, using the doting husband act as the perfect excuse to handle you however he pleased. You were going to kill him.

“I can make it rain anytime I wish,” he murmured, his tone biting at you in a dangerous, playful whisper that sent an involuntary shiver down your spine. He flashed one last dazzling smile at the bewildered bodyguard. “Now, let us go to our room, yeah?”

After that, the guard politely led you both through the sweeping glass doors toward the main lobby, where a receptionist stood behind a white marble desk, a bright, welcoming smile on her face.

“Welcome to The Sanctuary. Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Odinson,” she said smoothly, but the moment the words left her mouth, you saw her cringe a bit, her eyes darting between the digital registry and your face as she thought the names over. You noticed the hesitation instantly, Odinson did sound incredibly weird when referring to a woman.

“Is that your last name now, madam? Should I call you that?” she genuinely asked, looking a bit flustered, as if she were desperately trying to avoid making a mistake.

A massive grin broke across your face while Thor’s expression instantly soured. Oh, you liked this receptionist already.

“I genuinely have no idea. It does sound completely off when you say it like that, doesn't it?” you said, leaning against the marble desk. Then, you slowly turned your head to look up at him, your eyes wide with mock innocence. “Honey, is my last name Odinson now? Wouldn't that literally just mean I’m a son of Odin? I mea—”

He cut you off instantly, his jaw clenching as he growled under his breath, clearly pissed. “Well, we are in Midgard, darling. So your last name is now Odinson here, no? It is how things are done on this realm.” He forced out a tight, blindingly fake smile, trying his absolute best not to throw off the receptionist standing inches away.

You smiled right back, utterly loving the fact that you had managed to piss him off so quickly. You turned back to the receptionist, giving her a conspiratorial look. “Or you could just call me by my former last na—”

“No.” Thor cut you off again, his deep voice dropping an octave, completely unyielding as his blue eyes threw literal daggers down at you. “She will be referred to as Mrs. Odinson.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, your smile faltering for a split second. That was a remarkably quick, fiercely defensive reaction from him. Why the hell did he care so much about a fake human registry?

Recovering quickly, you huffed out a light, airy fake laugh for the receptionist's benefit, gesturing toward the rigid King beside you. “He gets incredibly defensive in situations like this,” you told her. Then, leaning in slightly, you whispered in a stage-whisper, “Male ego, am I right?” The receptionist let out a quiet, knowing chuckle and nodded her head in absolute agreement, clearly understanding exactly what you meant.

“I will show you to your room then, Mrs. Odinson,” she said, stepping out from behind the marble desk and motioning toward a glass elevator that overlooked the turquoise bay, while waving over a bellboy to take the three giant suitcases from Thor's hands.

Thor let the bellboy take the suitcases, his hands finally free as he followed the two of you toward the glass lift. The receptionist held the elevator doors open, gesturing politely with an extended hand, and once you and Thor stepped inside, she followed, pressing the button for the upper residential levels.

The elevator began its smooth ascent. Thor looked around the glass enclosure, his massive arms folding tightly over his broad chest. The movement made his biceps bulge prominently against the fabric of his t-shirt, and your traitorous eyes immediately darted downward, following the sharp lines of his muscles before you could even stop yourself.

“I like this Midgardian facility,” Thor remarked, his deep voice echoing in the enclosed space as he looked out at the view. “It is quite nice.”

“Me too. Love the design, honestly.” you said smoothly, flashing a perfect, effortless hand gesture, but as your eyes finally flicked away from Thor’s arm, you caught something out of the corner of your eye. A sudden, entirely unknown feeling brewed in the pit of your stomach.

The receptionist was staring at Thor’s arms. And she wasn't just glancing; she was so goddamn focused, her eyes tracing the thick veins of his biceps, that she didn't even notice your lethal gaze cutting right through her.

You were definitely taking it back—you did not like this girl at all.

Before your brain could even process the irrational spike of possessiveness, you acted on pure instinct. You stepped right into his space, cleared your throat sharply, and forcefully reached up to uncross his arms.

“What are—” Thor started, entirely caught off guard by the unexpected intrusion.

He was completely silenced as you forcefully dragged his broad frame down into a tight side hug. Your arm slid securely over his back, anchoring him to you, and you felt his breath hitch violently at the sudden contact. He froze for a second, his chest heaving, before he cleared his throat and let his massive hand find the curve of your waist, pulling you securely against his hip.

You kept your eyes locked dead on the receptionist, claiming your territory with absolute, unyielding dominance. You flashed her a wicked, razor-sharp smile. The girl's cheeks instantly flushed crimson, and she averted her eyes toward the floor, clearly mortified that she had been caught staring at a married man, beside his wife at that.

The second the threat was neutralized, your actions crashed down on you. You had absolutely no idea what had just come over you, or why the fuck you would ever do something like that over Thor. Okay, you probably—definitely did that because the thought of another woman disrespecting you by looking at your husband made you want to commit murder. Correction, supposed husband. Still he was your fucking husband for now and she was looking at him and— It’s all about you really, all good. Nothing to worry about.

Your face burned with a furious heat as you forced your gaze straight ahead, refusing to look at him, but you could feel the immense weight of his blue eyes staring down at the side of your face—burning you, fucking scorching you with an intense, questioning gaze.

Thankfully, the elevator dinged, saving you from the embarrassment.

The doors slid open, and you caught your first breathtaking sight of the upper facility. It wasn't a standard, enclosed hotel corridor. Instead, the elevator opened directly into the brilliant, open air of the cliffside. It was designed like an exclusive luxury resort enclave; the elevator connected the lower main lobby directly to an expansive, sun-drenched outdoor terrace that led to the private villa section of the property.

Stone pathways winded through lush, manicured tropical gardens, flanked by cascading water features and private infinity pools that looked like they hung off the edge of the world. The ocean breeze hit your face instantly, lifting the hem of your white dress, but the burning weight of Thor’s hand still resting firmly on your waist made it impossible to feel the cold.

You followed the receptionist, her eyes now glued strictly forward as she walked, her posture stiff with the embarrassment of the whole situation.

You tried to subtly peel yourself away from Thor’s side, but the moment you moved, the heavy grip of his hand on your waist tightened significantly. Your eyes instinctively glanced upward to him, ready to snap, but he was simply looking around at the passing scenery, appearing completely unbothered by the situation. Why wouldn't he let go? You wondered why the hell he would keep you tethered to his side like this, as if he actively wanted you there.

Then, doing something you thought you would absolutely never do, you let him. You quietly surrendered, allowing him to hold you tight against his hip as you both walked down the sun-drenched stone path.

Other elite couples passed you by, their judgmental eyes scanning you up and down as they noted the stunning, mysterious woman on the arm of the Asgardian King. This is exactly why he is keeping you glued to him, a strict, grounding voice echoed in your mind. Do not forget the objective, or the fact that you both could never, ever like each other like that. You swallowed hard, your own hand involuntarily tightening around his side for a split second. Why the fuck would you even think otherwise?

The receptionist finally approached a secluded, breathtaking cliffside villa. She opened the heavy timber door for you, stepping aside to hand you the room keycards.

The moment you stepped across the threshold, your eyes widened at the sight before you. Your blood ran completely cold. You let go of his waist immediately, and this time he actually let you.

Your hands were slightly shaking as you looked around the massive, sunlit room. Why hadn't you thought of this earlier? Ofcourse. It was painfully obvious. You were pretending to be a married couple on a honeymoon, after all.

You looked beside you only to see Thor standing entirely frozen, his lips slightly agape and his breathing turning shallow and fast as you both simultaneously realized how profoundly fucked up this mission actually was.

There was only one fucking bed.

It was a massive, ultra-luxurious king-sized bed, draped in crisp white linens and pushed directly against the center of the room, facing the glass walls that looked out over the ocean. Thor couldn't believe his own stupidity; how could he have thought he wouldn't have to share a bed with you on a mission where you were supposed to be blissfully in love? This mission was officially going to be the absolute death of him.

He slowly turned his head to look down at you, only to find you already staring up at him with completely bewildered, panicked eyes.

“I hope you like your room. Have a wonderful stay, Mr. and Mrs. Odinson,” the receptionist said, her voice finally breaking the tense silence that had descended upon the room.

The sound of her talking jolted you both out of your shared panic. You didn't even look at her fully, only giving a stiff side-eye and a tight nod before she quickly scrambled out of the room, shutting the heavy door behind her.

The second the click of the lock echoed through the villa, you spun on your heels to face him. Your voice was sharp, defensive, and entirely determined as you pointed a finger at him. “I will sleep in the bed.”

His eyes narrowed at you instantly. “No, I will,” he counter-attacked, and with two long, authoritative strides, he walked over to the bed and sat down heavily on the mattress, trying to claim the territory by physical force. You scoffed loudly, refusing to back down. You marched right over to the edge of the bed and sat down forcefully beside him, turning your body to face him dead-on. “I will,” you repeated stubbornly, your jaw locking.

Thor snorted, a challenge dancing in his blue eyes. “Okay, then. You will simply be sleeping next to me.”

Your eyes widened in sudden panic as you huffed out a sharp breath. “What?” you said, utterly bewildered by the casualness of his suggestion.

He rolled his eyes, gesturing broadly to the sprawling mattress behind him. “This is a massive bed, love. We both can fit, clearly.”

The moment the casual pet name slipped from his tongue, Thor internally bit down on it, desperately trying to maintain his stoic composure. What the fuck is my problem? he wondered, a silent storm raging in his mind as he stared at your flushed face. There was no one here to perform for. The door was locked. Yet his brain was completely short-circuiting.

Your breath hitched in your throat. Why the hell would he call you that when there wasn't a single soul around to witness it? You swallowed hard, trying to inject some of your usual venom back into your voice to hide your racing pulse. “You are ginormous, Thor. You would probably just roll over in the middle of the night and crush me to death or something—”

“I would never,” he said softly, cutting you off. He looked directly at you, his gaze suddenly changing into an intensity so deeply serious, that it made your heart give a treacherous flutter against your ribs.

You gulped, your mind going entirely blank. You tried to grasp for another excuse, another biting retort, but the gravity of his presence was making you forget everything else besides him.

Thor’s eyes roamed all over your face, desperately trying to dissect whatever panicked thoughts were racing through your mind. But as his gaze drifted downward, your bare arms caught his eye.

His breath hitched violently. His eyebrows furrowed into a deep, troubled line as his vision focused entirely on your skin.

How the hell had he never noticed them before?

Faint, jagged scars were littered all over your arms, disrupting your otherwise flawless skin. They were the unmistakable, ghostly remnants of... what? How could you have possibly acquired them? He knew you possessed an advanced healing factor—he had seen you bounce back from lethal battle wounds within hours—so if these marks remained, the trauma that caused them must have been unfathomable. It must have happened before you ever gained your abilities. But how did you even get your powers?

Thor realized, with a jarring pang in his chest, that he knew absolutely nothing about your history. He knew nothing of what had happened to you, where you had come from, or how you had earned those marks. A dark, protective rage began to brew in his chest, his breathing turning ragged as he stared at the faint lines.

You noticed the exact second his eyes shifted. A cold, suffocating dread pooled in your stomach.

Nobody outside of Tony, Steve, Natasha, and Bucky knew what had happened to you. Tony and Steve knew because they were the ones who had found you, breaking into that dark Hydra facility to save your life. Natasha knew because she was your absolute closest friend, the person who held you through the worst of the night terrors. Bucky knew only because you had trusted him with the truth, knowing he was the only one who truly understood the agony of being a broken, unwilling assassin.

But Thor? Thor hadn't been there when you were saved. He had been worlds away, dealing with the high-stakes matters of Asgard. And you, of course, had never told him. How could you? When he had finally returned to Earth and met you for the very first time, he had simply looked at you deadpan and muttered, “She looks gloomy.”

The comment had broken you. Before he had ever spoken to you, you had thought him absolutely extraordinary. The exact second you had caught sight of his legendary, powerful frame, an intense, quiet attraction had sparked inside you. But he had broken all of that in a single second by calling you gloomy, bruising your defensive ego and forcing you to react in the absolute worst way possible—yelling at him and starting a years-long war of petty arguments. He was the only person on the team who could ever get you to react with such unhinged irritation.

Now, your heart dropped straight to your stomach at the horrifying thought of him having another piece of leverage over you. He could never know the truth. You couldn't let him see your vulnerability.

As you watched his eyes frantically trace the lines on your skin, his massive left hand slowly ascended, his fingers instinctively reaching out to gently touch your arm.

The impending contact made you take a sharp, terrified breath. Your fight-or-flight response slammed into overdrive, and you abruptly stammered out a quick, “I have to pee!” Before he could even respond, you bolted off the mattress, practically running toward the privacy of the bathroom.

You rubbed your face as you gulped, staring at your reflection in the mirror.

I have to pee? Seriously? You couldn’t have found anything better to say?

The faster we are done with this, the better, you thought to yourself, anxiously pacing around the marble bathroom. Steve had said the mission could take anywhere from two days to an entire week. You were strictly determined to wrap this up in two days max—because if you didn't, so help you God, you were going to go completely insane.

You splashed ice-cold water on your face, breathing out a long, shaky exhale. You could do this. You could endure this. This was absolutely nothing compared to the horrors you had survived in your past, but for some reason, why did it feel like this was even worse?

Steeling your nerves, you finally walked out of the bathroom, only to see Thor standing outside on the terrace, his massive back turned to you. Your eyes involuntarily roamed over his broad figure, and you breathed out a long breath to calm your racing heart.

He heard you step into the room—of course he did. He turned back toward you, locking his blue eyes onto your face as he made his way back inside. “I like it here,” he mumbled, looking around the room before his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Where are our things? That servant took—”

Your eyebrows shot up instantly. “Servant?”

“Yes. The one who took our bags.”

You let out an involuntary, nervous giggle as you sat back down on the edge of the bed, rolling your eyes. “Thor, he’s not a servant. He’s a bellboy.” His brow furrowed even deeper. “Bellboy?”

“Yes. People who carry luggage to the rooms in hotels are called bellboys.”

“So... they are servants?” he repeated stubbornly. You huffed, deeply annoyed by his royal dense-headedness. “Thor, do not call anyone a servant to their face. It’s incredibly belittling and—” Right as the lecture was leaving your mouth, a sharp knock echoed from the front door.

“Ah! The servant is here,” Thor declared triumphantly, immediately striding toward the entryway to open it.

“Thor, no—” you gasped, scrambling up from the bed. You were desperately trying to intercept him, wanting to avoid a catastrophic conversation where he would inevitably embarrass the poor resort worker.

But Thor was too fast. He swung the door open and casually leaned his massive shoulder against the wall, watching the bellboy roll your three giant suitcases into the villa’s foyer. However, instead of ignoring you, Thor’s blue eyes were suddenly gleaming with pure mischief as he looked across the room at your panicked face.

Your eyes narrowed into lethal slits. You fiercely mouthed a very deliberate, aggressive 'No' to him.

But seeing your panic only made his smug smile widen. The exact second he opened his annoying, beautiful mouth to speak, your instincts slammed into overdrive. Your brain completely short-circuited. You scrambled over to him in a blind, chaotic rush. Before he could utter a single syllable, you threw yourself into his personal space, your arms wrapping securely around his thick neck as you hopped completely on top of him, forcefully pressing his face right into the crook of your neck to physically muffle his mouth against your skin.

Thor froze dead in his tracks. The sudden impact of your body would have knocked any human man flat on his back, but he didn't even sway. His breath hitched sharply, and his massive hands instinctively shot down, grabbing the back of your thighs to hold you up without breaking a single sweat.

The bellboy’s eyes went completely wide at the unexpected, intensely passionate display.

Your face burned a scorching, furious red as you awkwardly tilted your head back, your arms still locked around Thor's neck. “Just... love my husband so much, you know? Can’t help myself,” you breathed out, your voice strained as you forced a bright, desperately in love smile.

The bellboy nodded quickly, his eyes still dinner-plate wide as he awkwardly parked the luggage.

Thor’s head had been pinned right against your neck, but he suddenly lifted his head up forcefully, his godlike strength easily overriding your desperate attempt to hold him still.

“Cannot keep her hands to herself, this one,” Thor told the bellboy, a deep, rumbling chuckle vibrating through his chest. He was smiling brightly, clearly enjoying every single second of this absolute ordeal.

You literally could not believe you had just done that. You were just trying to spare the poor worker’s feelings, and—okay, fine, you absolutely did not need to jump on top of him like a koala. But in that split second of panic, your brain had completely ruled out kissing him as an option—obviously, because why were you even thinking of it in the first place?—, leaving you with no choice but to launch yourself at him to take him off guard.

The mortified bellboy practically scrambled out of the villa, quickly wishing you both a good day before slamming the door shut.

You let out a massive sigh of relief, your forehead dropping against Thor's shoulder. You hadn't even been able to give the poor guy a tip. You shook your head in deep disapproval, your gaze finally snapping back up to look at Thor.

And that’s when your brain finally caught up to the reality of your physical situation.

The room was dead silent. Thor was staring down at you with an incredibly intense, dark, and unreadable gaze. He was still holding you entirely aloft in his arms. Your legs were circled tightly around his broad waist, his heavy hands were gripping the bare skin under your thighs, and your goddamn summer dress had completely ridden up your legs. The direct, calloused touch of his palms against your skin was burning you like liquid fire.

Your breathing suddenly grew shallow and fast. Oh god. You needed to get off of him right now.

You swallowed hard, subtly shifting your weight to slide down, but his grip remained like iron bands. You couldn't move.

“You can let go now, you know?” you whispered, your voice lacking its usual bite as you stared into his intense blue eyes.

Thor aggressively cleared his throat, looking momentarily startled by how close your lips were to his. But within a fraction of a second, that goddamn smug, teasing smile started slow-burning across his face. You knew that exact expression, and it never meant anything good for your sanity.

“Why?” he murmured, his voice dropping into a low, rumbling rasp that sent a wave of heat straight to your core. “You willingly hopped into my arms, Little Flame. I might as well enjoy the embrace.”

You gasped in absolute outrage, sharply slapping his broad chest with your palm as you desperately tried to wrench yourself out of his grip. He was being annoying, cruel, and completely, fucking insufferable.

“Just let go of me, you pervert!” you snapped, your right hand desperately attempting to peel his iron grip off your bare leg.

He finally let go of you with a low, rumbling chuckle, clearly enjoying annoying you far too much for his own good. “Pervert? I am not the one who jumped blindly into your arms, Little Flame.”

You flushed a furious crimson, sharply turning your back to him to hide the heat on your face. “Let's just fucking get ready and try to find some info on our objective,” you muttered tightly. You grabbed one of your massive suitcases, plopping it down onto the luggage rack with a heavy thud, and unzipped it. Behind you, his quiet, amused chuckles continued to bounce off the walls, making your blood boil with pure anger, but you forced your mouth shut.

You aggressively rummaged through your clothes, grabbing a white, high-cut skimpy monokini and a breezy dress to wear over it. Clucthing the fabric to your chest, you marched straight back into the bathroom to get ready.

You locked the door, taking a few ragged breaths to settle your racing pulse. You fixed your hair, and carefully slipped into the monokini and the dress. Standing in front of the mirror, you let out a long exhale, though your face was still burning with a deep, stubborn embarrassment. You could do this. It was just a mission.

You emerged from the bathroom, deliberately looking anywhere but at Thor as he smoothly stepped past you to go get changed himself. You walked over to the vanity, but a few moments later, his booming, deeply confused voice echoed from the other side of the door.

“This just looks like underwear.”

The bathroom door swung open, and Thor walked out, looking down at himself with a bewildered expression. The second your eyes landed on him, you literally choked on your own spit.

He was wearing a pair of simple navy swimming trunks—and absolutely nothing else. No shirt, no linen button-down, nothing to cover the massive expanse of his upper body.

Your eyes involuntarily danced over his frame, your mouth falling slightly agape as you took him in. The midday sun streaming through the glass walls caught every single ridge of his body. Your gaze traced the thick, prominent veins running over his forearms and bulging biceps, moving up to the broad, heavy expanse of his chest, and dropping down to his rock-hard, perfectly sculpted abs.

Oh, fuck. You felt a sharp, electric flutter ignite deep down in your stomach.

“We Asgardians just go into the waters naked to swim, you know,” he stated proudly, adjusting the waistband of the trunks. “This Earth clothing feels ridiculous.”

He was probably referring to times back home when he did exactly that—swimming freely in royal Asgardian lakes, likely with beautiful women. But the sudden, intrusive mental image of going swimming with a completely naked Thor made you gulp harshly, your eyes widening in panic.

And that was the exact moment he caught the state of your face.

Thor froze. His breath hitched in his throat as his blue eyes locked onto you. Your beautiful eyes had darkened with an intense, raw heat, your gaze completely fixed on his bare chest while your sinful lips remained slightly parted. As he watched, your tongue subtly darted out to lick your lower lip, your breathing turning shallow.

The God of Thunder felt his entire frame go completely rigid in the middle of the room.

You were not thinking what he thought you were... were you? For the first time, a heavy, pounding tension that had nothing to do with anger or bickering flooded the air around you. Thor felt his heart skip a beat against his ribs at the terrifying, intoxicating thought of you actually looking at him like that, willing him to step closer.

You closed your eyes then, and the sudden, intrusive thought of him being completely naked with other women infiltrated your mind. It filled you with a strange, unexplainable feeling—a sharp, poisonous ache that you had felt before in your life but couldn't quite put your finger on. Your stomach actively churned at the mental image, a dark wave of possessiveness and frustration twisting tight inside your core mkaing you open your eyes back.

The lung-burning silence broke when you abruptly gulped, tearing your gaze away from his abdomen as your cheeks flared a bright, defensive red.

“Put a shirt on, will you?” you muttered breathlessly.

Without waiting for a response, you spun on your heel and practically bolted out onto the sun-drenched balcony, desperately needing the breeze to help you catch your breath before you completely lost your mind.

Inside, Thor’s eyebrows furrowed deeply. He stood entirely frozen in the center of the room, his heart dropping straight to his stomach at the words you had just thrown at him.

Of course.

Why the hell would he ever think you wanted him? What was he thinking? You obviously were not attracted to him in the slightest. In fact, it was the exact opposite—you clearly disliked him so much that you couldn't even bear to see a glimpse of his bare upper body, which was why you had breathlessly demanded he cover himself up.

Thor let out a low, frustrated groan, bringing his massive hands up to aggressively palm his face. Why did he even care so much? Why did your rejection sting like needles on his skin?

Steeling his posture, he marched back over to his suitcase, snatched up a matching navy t-shirt, and harshly yanked it down over his head, hiding his chest from view. He desperately needed a fucking drink. He was entirely certain there wasn’t a single alcoholic beverage on this entire planet that could properly numb his brain right now. Not even heavy Asgardian ale could get him drunk enough at this point. He actually was fucking sure there wasn't a single drink in the entire universe that could make him drunk enough to forget about you, your angelic face, these unexplainable feelings, and the damning fact that you absolutely hated him.

“Let’s go,” his deep voice boomed behind you.

Startled out of your thoughts on the balcony, you turned around and walked back inside the air-conditioned room. You quietly followed him as he strode over to the heavy front door, swinging it open and standing firmly in the entryway as he waited for you to walk past.

You went out, your wedge sandals clicking softly on the stone path as you took a deep breath of the humid air, trying to reset your frayed nerves. As you made your way down toward the main infinity pool with Thor by your side, you suddenly felt a firm, sudden tug on your hand.

Because you had left the villa first, you had been walking a few paces ahead of him, but with one effortless pull, he brought you right back next to his side. His massive palm slid against yours, his fingers wrapping around your hand and engulfing it completely.

Your pulse gave a wild, treacherous flutter. Your eyes filled with immediate, defensive questions as you snapped your head up to look at him. Your hand felt like it was on fire, your skin practically melting under the direct heat of his touch. But before you could snap at him, Thor simply gestured with a subtle tilt of his chin toward a few couples who were walking past, watching you closely.

Right. Real couples walked hand-in-hand. You were supposed to be blissfully married, so this was completely ordinary. You forced yourself to nod, your fingers slowly sliding into his, intertwining with his firmly to sell the act.

Before heading over to the pool deck, you stopped by the wooden towel stand. You grabbed two plush beach towels, offering a polite, dazzling smile and a quiet thank you to the young worker who handed them over. As you began walking toward two vacant, prime sunbeds you had spotted near the edge of the water, Thor leaned down significantly to get right on your level.

His warm breath brushed against your ear as he whispered, “Lots of servants here.”

You immediately looked up at him, your eyes boring holes into his face. “Thor, they are resort employees. Stop it,” you hissed under your breath.

A smug, infuriating smile broke across his face. He was clearly enjoying the easy way he could piss you off. Still, his hand didn't release yours; his fingers remained tightly engulfed around your hand as you finally settled right next to the vacant sunbeds.

He finally let go of your hand, though his blue eyes remained highly alert, scanning the perimeter. He took in the entire scene—the crowded pool bar, the glittering water, and the exclusive guests. Upbeat lounge music pulsed quietly from the hidden outdoor speakers as his gaze tracked the crowd.

His eyes locked onto a specific target sitting near the bar: a man with a distinct scar slicing through his left eyebrow, short black hair, and deeply bronzed skin. The stool next to the man was vacant, and he was casually sipping on a dark amber liquor—what Thor recognized as whiskey, a Midgardian drink he had tried during his time with the Avengers.

Thor turned his head back to tell you he had spotted their mark, but the words got caught in his throat.

You had already slid your dress off, leaving it pooled on the side of the chair. You were now sitting down comfortably on the sunbed, your bare legs stretched out in front of you.

The sight of your exposed skin and the incredibly skimpy, high-cut beachwear made a sudden rush of blood boil furiously through Thor's veins. His gaze darkened instantly, his eyes helplessly mapping the smooth expanse of your collarbones, your chest, and your fucking perfect legs. Oh, fuck. He literally couldn't breathe. The air vanished from his lungs, and he averted his eyes toward the sea, his heart hammering so wildly against his ribs he thought it might actually beat its way straight out of his chest.

Desperate to cool down, he aggressively cleared his throat and grabbed the hem of his t-shirt, yanking it off his body.

Your eyes remained glued strictly ahead of you, stubbornly refusing to spare him a single glance. You heard the rustle of fabric and the distinct sound of him tossing the shirt onto the table, but you refused to face him. You unfortunately felt far too many weird, dangerous things flipping in your stomach whenever you looked at his bare chest, and you weren't about to risk your sanity now. Fuck this entire operation, really, you thought bitterly.

You heard the sunbed creak as his massive weight sat down on the lounge chair right next to yours. Your positions were exactly identical, your legs laid out parallel to each other on the matching cushions. You were close—entirely too close.

Needing to ground yourself and focus on the mission, you leaned over toward him, lowering your voice to a sharp, determined whisper. “We either finish this in two days or an entire week. Let’s get this over with quickly, so that I do not have to be your wife for another—” But you had made the catastrophic mistake of turning your head to look at him while you whispered. The words died completely in your throat, and the remaining oxygen was brutally taken right out of your lungs.

Thor had laid back against the cushion, his massive, bare arms raised up next to his head to support the back of his neck. The position made his biceps and shoulders bulge spectacularly under the sunlight, the lines of his chest stretching taut.

“...second,” you trailed off breathlessly, your voice dropping to a faint whisper as you quickly snapped your head back to stare blindly at the water in front of you.

“I agree,” Thor said simply, his deep voice carrying a gravelly, tight edge as he stared straight ahead, too. “This whole ordeal is ridiculous, I’ll tell you that. There is absolutely no need to drag it out.”

You laid perfectly still on the sunbed, the intense heat baking your skin, but it was nothing compared to the suffocating tension radiating from the man lying right next to you.

What’s happening to me? you wondered frantically in your mind, trying to ground yourself as you looked around the bustling pool area. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the man with the scarred eyebrow, and a cold jolt of recognition hit you. He looked familiar because he was your target. Valentin Moretti, the spoiled, arrogant playboy of the family who handled the high-society entertainment and smuggling logistics at the resort. He was the only middleman who held the digital decryption keys to the Dark Elf tech you and Thor were trying to locate.

And right now, he was staring right at you.

The second his eyes hit you, his posture shifted. His dark eyes narrowed, deliberately burning their way down the length of your body, lingering heavily on the high-cut lines of your white monokini and your bare legs. A smooth, predatory smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. He raised his whiskey glass in a silent, incredibly bold toast directly toward you.

“I was just about to tell you I spotted our target, but it seems like he spotted you,” Thor grumbled. He glared over at Valentin, his blue eyes darkening to a stormy hue as his hands clenched into massive, white-knuckled fists behind his head. “Why the fuck is he staring at you like that?” he muttered, every single muscle in his broad frame clenching tight as he fought a losing battle to keep himself from doing something stupid. Like striking the fucker with a stray bolt of lightning.

“Thor, keep your eyes straight ahead,” you hissed back under your breath, stubbornly refusing to look at him. “Tony said he runs the security and digital access keys for the entire compound. If he’s interested, it means we have an opening.”

“An opening to what?” Thor muttered, his tone sharply biting. “He is vile. Look at how he comports himself.”

“An opening for me to get to know hi—”

“Absolutely not,” he interrupted, his voice cutting through the humid air like a sharpened blade.

Your eyebrows furrowed deeply. “What do you mean? We need him, Thor!” you whisper-shouted, sharply turning your body toward him.

He was staring literal daggers across the pool deck, his biceps bulging prominently as he breathed. He looked absolutely furious. You scoffed internally. Did the mere thought of another man being interested in you anger him this much? Did he despise you so profoundly that he couldn't even entertain the thought that a man could actually find you attractive? You breathed sharply through your nose like an enraged bull; you absolutely could not let his fragile ego fuck up this entire operation.

“I am going to the ladies room,” you announced abruptly.

You sat up, your hips shifting with a natural, subtle sway as you swung your legs off the lounge chair. The movement drew Thor’s intense gaze straight to your back, his eyes tracking you with the exact same heavy focus as a certain someone across the pool deck. Thor’s jaw clenched so hard a muscle ticked in his cheek. He knew exactly what you were doing; he was not fucking stupid. You were trying to get away from him to corner the target alone. And he was absolutely not going to let you.

You marched into the restroom, deliberately waiting inside for two full minutes to give Valentin time to notice your absence. When you finally emerged back into the bright sunshine, your eyes instantly scanned the area for Thor, but you couldn't find his giant frame anywhere near the sunbeds. Your brows knitted in concern. Where the fuck is he? You shook your head, dismissing the thought.

Continuing your way, your strides remained purposeful, your hips swaying with an intoxicating rhythm as you confidently made your way over to the open-air pool bar. You stopped right next to two stols away from Valentin, placing your hands flat on the polished marble counter.

“A cosmopolitan, please,” you told the bartender, flashing a polite smile.

Beside you, Valentin smirked and got up, sliding onto the stool right next to you. “Good afternoon,” he smoothed, his voice dripping with an arrogant, upper-class accent as he looked down at your frame. His smirk widened. “I don’t mean to intrude, but I haven't seen your face at the Sanctuary before. I am Valentin.”

You immediately forced your perfected, dazzling smile onto your face, tilting your head up to look at him. “Hello,” you said, your voice smooth, breathy, and entirely welcoming as you deliberately played the part.

Valentin’s dark eyes flashed with deep approval at your response. But just as he opened his mouth to speak, a heavy, solid weight crashed into your side.

A massive, bare arm wrapped securely around your waist, his fingers gripping your skin so tightly that your breath instantly hitched in your throat.

“Here you are, darling,” Thor muttered, leaning down so close his lips practically brushed your ear, though his icy gaze remained dead-locked onto Valentin.

“Here I am,” you said through your teeth. You forced out a light, airy giggle for appearance's sake, but underneath the counter, you aggressively pinched the skin of his arm. Just what did he think he was doing?

In response, his grip only tightened, anchoring you flush against his solid hip.

Valentin looked between the two of you, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise, though his arrogant smirk remained firmly in place. “Your companion didn't seem to care you were there just minutes ago,” Valentin noted smoothly, turning his attention entirely back to you and deliberately stepping a fraction closer to your space. “If you ever find yourself bored with the company, cara, I am always hosting private tastings in the VIP lounge upstairs. A woman of your taste shouldn't be left to just bake in the sun.”

Valentin finally flicked a dismissive, incredibly brief glance toward Thor, taking in his towering height, his bare chest, and his silent, murderous expression. Valentin chuckled softly under his breath, entirely assuming Thor was just some brainless, handsome trophy husband you kept around for arm candy.

You felt your eyes briefly close in pure panic as Thor tried to keep his mouth shut. The tension radiating off him was terrifying; he pulled you even harder against his side, his thumb digging into your waist. Didn't this mortal idiot know who he was dealing with? The God of Thunder looked like he was about to rip Valentin’s head off his shoulders and toss it directly into the infinity pool.

“My husband,” you intervened quickly, emphasizing the word heavily while throwing Thor a sharp, lethal warning glare, “is just enjoying the peace. But thank you for the invitation, Valentin. We might just take you up on that.”

“I look forward to it,” Valentin murmured, his eyes giving your body one last, shameless scan down to your bare legs. He gave a polite nod and turned back toward the bar, entirely unaware of how close he had just come to an early grave.

Thor practically dragged you out of there, his heavy grip guiding you back toward the sunbeds.

The second Valentin was out of earshot, you let out a sharp breath, turning your head to hiss at him. “What do you think you're doing?!”

Thor didn't even spare you a glance, his jaw set in a rigid line as he kept on walking, dragging you right along by his side. “I am not doing anything.” You huffed, sharply slapping his bare arm. “Thor, you're going to ruin everything!” He acted completely deaf, ignoring your slap as he kept his heavy strides forward.

“Tomorrow,” you whispered fiercely, leaning in closer to his side so none of the passing guests could overhear. “I am going to have to flirt with him to get those access codes, and you will not do things like what you just did!”

Thor’s head snapped toward you so fast your breath caught harshly in your chest. His blue eyes were burning, fucking scorching into yours with an unhinged look.

“You will not,” he growled.

You scoffed loudly, throwing your head back. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he said flatly. He finally let go of your waist, sitting back down heavily on his sunbed.

You remained standing over him, your hands flying up in pure frustration. “Is the concept of a man finding me attractive such a foreign concept to you?!” you whisper-shouted, your chest heaving.

He didn't respond as he kept looking at Valentin, his jaw locking into a tight, defensive line. Ofcourse he did not, and that was the exact problem. Any man who set their eyes on you would find you attractive and he could not fucking stand it.

It's because you cannot stand her, his mind echoed, but he knew something was desperately wron g with him.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Valentin was still watching the two of you from the bar, clearly reveling in the fact that he had caused a little disagreement between the stunning woman and her brute of a husband. Thor’s eyes darkened even further as he tracked Valentin's amused expression.

Your gaze followed Thor's, landing right on the smug target.

“Are you serious?” you muttered to Thor. Then, turning your head toward the bar, you deliberately forced a sweet smile and gave Valentin a little, subtle wave.

You turned back to Thor, sitting down forcefully on your own sunbed. “I will do what I have to do, Thor,” you said coldly, snatching up a glossy fashion magazine from the side table—one of the resort’s complimentary services.

“We’ll see about that,” Thor muttered back, his voice dangerous.

You didn't respond, your own jaw locking in a fury so intense you wanted to wrap your hands around his thick neck and strangle him.

So yeah, your day was going exactly the same. You had wanted to strangle him in the morning, and you wanted to strangle him right now. Not a single thing had changed, other than the fact that he was now your supposed husband.

You aggressively kept on turning the glossy pages of the magazine, but your gaze followed Valentin precisely. Between the articles, your sharp eyes roamed over every single person on the pool deck, dissecting them and their behaviors, mapping out the security hierarchy of the resort. But you got bored after a while, the heat and the tension becoming too much to sit through. Deciding you needed a distraction, you stood up from your sunbed to go into the pool.

The moment you stood, Thor’s intense gaze focused directly in on your stomach. The air left his lungs. There, cutting across your midriff, were the exact same faint, jagged scars. His blood ran entirely cold. Just how many of those did you have hidden across your body? He felt his stomach churn painfully, his hands going completely cold despite the blistering sun. But just as he watched you walk down the shallow steps into the water, he fucking saw Valentin look at you again.

Just why did this guy not give up?

Thor felt something violent biting at him inside—something so utterly convincing and overwhelming that his face hardened into stone. He got up immediately, his towering frame casting a shadow over the lounge chairs as he followed you straight into the water.

You were already in the pool, the cold water instantly relieving your burning skin. You swam smoothly toward the far edge, propping your elbows up on the smooth marble so you could lay your head on your hands and finally relax.

Just as you were settling in, a calm expression finally washing over your face, the entire pool rattled with the force of someone jumping in.

You whipped your head around, your eyes wide with irritation. Thor emerged from underwater a split second later, a smug, breathless smile on his face as he broke the surface just inches away from you.

“Can I not relax in peace now?” you snapped between your teeth.

But the remaining words were brutally taken right out of your lungs. Before you could slide away, Thor wrapped his massive hands securely around the back of your bare thighs, effortlessly lifting your body up in the water. The sudden momentum left you with no choice but to instinctively circle your legs around his broad waist to keep from slipping.

“What are you doing?” you whispered into his ear, completely breathless. Despite the panic racing through your veins, you forced a bright, blinding honeymoon smile for the sake of the couples swimming near you, whose bewildered, intrigued expressions were already focused entirely on the two of you.

“I am enjoying the cold water with my wife,” he murmured back. His warm breath fanned heavily over the sensitive skin of your neck as he intentionally cornered you, crowding your front while your back was pressed against the marble edge of the pool you had been relaxing on seconds ago.

Your hands instinctively found his neck, your fingers gripping his shoulders while your thumbs lightly played with the short hairs at the nape of his neck. You looked at him, your lips dangling a mere inch away from his. You could feel his steady breath fanning over your mouth, making your lips tingle with soul-burning want.

Why the hell were your lips tingling with want? Oh, god. Your face burned with a furious, internal heat as your eyes helplessly locked onto his mouth. Both of your chests heaved, brushing against one another in the water.

“I am not your real wife, Thor,” you breathed out, trying desperately to ground yourself. “I don’t need you touching me every five seconds—”

“I don’t need anyone here thinking you are available.”

“What?” you whispered, your heart giving a massive flutter against your ribs.

“Fake or not, Little Flame,” he growled softly, his blue eyes turning incredibly dark as his grip on your thighs tightened. “I am your fucking husband, and every man on this island will know it. I will make sure of it.”

He smirked, and before you could even process his words, he leaned in and pressed a firm, lingering kiss directly to your flushed cheek. You gasped in absolute shock, your skin scorching where his lips met your face. As he pulled back just a fraction, your noses brushed. You looked directly into his eyes, feeling yourself grow hotter and hotter and hotter—

“My honorary guests! You made it!”

A booming, boisterous voice suddenly erupted from above you. You both snapped your heads up, startled out of the suffocating bubble, and saw Alejandro Moretti himself standing on the pool deck. He was smiling down at the two of you, his arms spread wide in a grand, welcoming gesture.

You aggressively cleared your throat, your training forcing you to seamlessly recover. “Hello, Mr. Moretti. It's a pleasure to meet you,” you said, forcing a dazzling smile as you introduced yourself and extended a wet hand up toward the him.

He immediately took it, bowing his head slightly. “It is my absolute pleasure,” he said warmly. “You are the wife of the mighty Thor, after all!” He chuckled loudly, before turning his glowing gaze entirely back to Thor. “Big fan, man. Big fan.”

Moretti extended his hand toward him, and Thor took it, a wide, proud smile immediately breaking across his face because he was being praised. God, he absolutely loved being praised, didn't he?

Moretti started talking rapidly, listing off Thor’s various accomplishments while keeping a firm, enthusiastic grip on his hand. Rolling your eyes privately, you used the distraction to unwrap your legs from Thor's waist, pulling yourself off his torso and slipping back into the water.

The moment you detached yourself, Thor's hand snapped out, tightening firmly around your wrist. He immediately tore his attention away from Moretti, looking down at you. “Where are you going, sweetheart?”

The casual nickname made your entire stomach flutter dangerously.

“Gonna go dry off, honey,” you said, matching his energy as you pulled yourself up slightly to plant a swift, fake peck on his cheek. “Just a bit cold.”

“I will come with you,” Thor insisted immediately, his cheek burninh as his eyes tracking your movement.

“Ah, newlyweds,” Moretti chuckled fondly at the display, shaking his head. “Always so full of love, am I right?”

You gave him a dry, polite chuckle and quickly swam toward the pool steps to get out. As you and Thor stepped onto the stone deck, grabbing your towels, Moretti walked right alongside you, refusing to leave Thor’s side for even a single second. It was like he wanted Thor all to himself.

How can someone not want him, though? the thought involuntarily slipped into your mind.

You froze dead in your tracks, your towel clutched tightly in your hands as your own mind echoed back to you.

No. You did not want him. Certainly not. You didn't, you couldn't—

You closed your eyes, letting out a long, defeated sigh.

You fucking wanted him. And he could never know.

—

You were getting ready, painting a sharp, precise wing of black eyeliner over your eyelid as you desperately tried to keep yourself intact.

Moretti had invited the both of you to the exclusive resort party taking place tonight. Well, you were going to go either way for the sake of the mission, but he had explicitly invited you as his honorary guests.

After the you realizedthat you actually wanted Thor, you had started to see him in an entirely different light. You had felt physically nauseous by the fact that you wanted him, wanting nothing more than to run back to the villa to self-reflect and figure out exactly where your life had gone wrong. But he had not left you alone for a single second. The moment you had said you were going to the room, he had immediately gotten up and followed you back to the room. He had looked so genuinely caring while doing it, which only made an unwelcome swarm of butterflies erupt in your stomach. And the fact that he looked so so good—

Ugh, you were doing it again.

“Are you ready, Little Flame?” came Thor’s deep voice from behind the bathroom door.

You took one good look at yourself in the mirror, your gaze traveling down from your flawless makeup to the white midi dress that hugged your curves perfectly, down to your elegant heeled sandals. You looked hot. Absolutely lethal.

You swung the bathroom door open, only to be hit dead-on with the sight of him waiting in the foyer.

His lips parted, falling slightly agape as his eyes traveled over you, taking you in. His towering, formidable frame was clad in tailored cream linen trousers and a crisp white linen shirt, finished with beige loafers.

Your heart stopped dead in your chest. Was he actively trying to kill you? He was already breathtakingly handsome on a regular day, but the fact that he was dressing like that was doing completely unspeakable things to your sanity.

Thor felt the air brutally ripped from his lungs the exact second you emerged. His blue eyes aggressively roamed over your face, your sharp eyeliner, and the way the white dress accentuated your flawless form. Now, why the hell did you have to look like this and still have the absolute audacity to hate him?

His breathing became distinctly ragged, his eyes darkening to a stormy, dangerous hue as the possessive thought of other men witnessing your beauty tonight overtook his mind. But he forced his muscles to relax as he reminded himself that this hotel was strictly full of wealthy couples. It was fine. You were anchored to him. Right?

“Let’s go, big guy,” you said, averting your gaze in absolute panic as you brushed past his broad shoulder and made your way out of the villa.

Thor’s eyebrows shot up in utter bewilderment. He stood frozen for a second before turning to follow you out onto the stone path closing the door behind him, his voice clearly dripping with a deep, rumbling amusement. “Big guy?”

Your face burned a scorching, furious hot at your own slip of the tongue. You usually never called him anything other than petty names specifically engineered to irritate him, so what the fuck was that now?

“You... are massive. And a man?” you stammered out, desperately trying to make light of the situation as you walked ahead of him, your heels clicking sharply.

“Hm,” Thor just grunted behind you. You couldn't see his face, but you could hear the triumphant smile in his voice as the two of you made your way down toward dinner.

The revelation that you were actually attracted to him was making you go completely crazy, and you were already fucking it all up. Your brain was entirely short-circuiting over how mind-numbingly handsome he looked in that white linen shirt, and calling him big guy of all things was proof that you were losing your edge. All through dinner, you were on high alert, desperately trying to hide your lingering glimpses toward his muscular arms and his stupidly handsome face, praying he wouldn't notice the sudden shift in your behavior.

Dinner itself had been an exercise in damage control. Thor had absolutely loved the food, boisterously shouting “Another!” to the waitstaff every time he finished a plate, leaving you to look at the waiters with highly apologetic eyes. You had quickly smoothed it over, telling them with a charming laugh how incredibly enthusiastic your husband was about their exquisite cuisine. Far from being offended, the staff had been completely fascinated by Thor, even asking for his signature—though the poor guys couldn't take any pictures due to the resort's strict high-society privacy policy.

Once dinner was finally over, you made your way to the actual party.

The bass from the music blasted your ears off the second you walked through the entrance. Thor’s heavy hand was firmly circled around your bare waist, anchoring you to his side as you looked around the crowded open-air venue. You bit your lip, doing everything in your power to mask your fastened heartbeat and the slight panic tracing your expression. To maintain the doting newlyweds facade, your own arm was stretched across Thor’s broad back.

And god, how magnificent that back was. Through the thin linen of his shirt, you could feel the solid, dangerous planes of his muscles right beneath your palm. It made you wonder, in a rogue, intrusive thought, if you could paint that flawless skin red with your nails, leaving little scratches down his—

oh my god, shut up, girl, you fiercely scolded yourself in your mind, your face flashing a blistering hot.

As you walked deeper into the VIP section toward Alejandro Moretti’s table, you spotted Valentin right next to him.

The exact millisecond Valentin came into view, you could feel every single muscle in Thor’s body tense up beneath your hand. Pure instinct took over, you gave the small of his back a soft, deliberate little squeeze, a silent warning to stay grounded.

The touch made Thor instantly look down at you, his blue eyes full of an intense, sweeping emotion you couldn't quite name. Your mind raced. Why the fuck were you trying to calm him down? And why the hell was he getting so intensely tense in the first place?

“Don’t make a scene,” you whispered fiercely up to him, looking at him through your lashes as you kept your voice strictly beneath the thumping bass.

“Do not make me make a scene,” he grumbled back, his deep voice heavily unpleased as his grip on your waist tightened.

Alejandro Moretti immediately got up from his leather booth the moment he saw you approach. “Ah! Here they are!” he announced loudly, his arms thrown wide open in a grand greeting.

Thor smiled brightly, his deep, booming laugh filling your ears as he stepped forward to enthusiastically embrace the billionaire, playing the part of the larger-than-life husband a little too well. You let out a bright, airy laugh right on cue, looking up at them as you seamlessly executed the role of the loving, supportive wife.

From across the table, Valentin was staring directly at you, a confident, knowing smirk pulling at his lips.

Alejandro turned proudly to his younger brother, gesturing toward the two of you. “My guests of honor, Valentin! This is Thor, and his lovely wife.”

Valentin’s dark eyebrows furrowed in immediate confusion. “Thor?”

“Yes! The God of Thunder!” Alejandro chuckled heartily, totally oblivious to the shift in the air as he gestured for everyone to sit down.

The arrogant smirk was instantly wiped entirely off Valentin’s face. He stood frozen, likely wondering how the hell he hadn't recognized the literal Avenger at the pool bar earlier.

“Ah,” Valentin cleared his throat, cautiously extending his hand across the table, even as Thor threw absolute, unyielding daggers at him with his icy gaze. “My pleasure.”

Thor’s lips pulled into a wide, bright smile as he reached out and took Valentin’s hand. But you knew that exact smile entirely too well—it was the predatory, sharp-edged smile he regularly threw at you whenever you managed to annoy him to death in public. It was the smile of a Thor who was profoundly angry, masking his rage with a lethally graceful diplomacy.

His godlike grip must have tightened a fraction too much around Valentin’s fingers, because the smug playboy’s face instantly grimaced in pain, his knuckles turning white under the force of the god’s hand.

You tapped lightly on Thor’s elbow, giving him a subtle, pointed signal to let go before he completely pulverized the man's hand. He finally released his grip, though his blue eyes continued to burn right through Valentin, his other arm instantly wrapping tight around your waist again to pull you back into his orbit.

You went to sit down in the plush leather booth, but Thor deliberately shuffled his massive frame, placing himself directly between you and Valentin to completely block the playboy's line of sight. You rolled your eyes privately. He was obviously being this intensely possessive because the entire resort had to believe you were blissfully married, but he was playing the part a little too well for your sanity.

Alejandro, ever the fanboy, was visibly disappointed by the seating arrangement—he was now sitting on your other side instead of right next to the God of Thunder—but he stopped himself from saying anything to avoid offending his royal guest.

So began the endless praises for Thor.

“I must say, King Thor, having you here at the Sanctuary is a historic honor!” Alejandro beamed, gesturing for a waiter to pour more whiskey. “The stories of your victories on Earth, the Battle of New York, the triumph over Malekith... truly spectacular! A god walking among mortals!”

Thor smiled brightly, his booming laugh easily cutting through the lounge music as his arm remained locked securely around your waist, his thumb lazily stroking your side through the fabric of your dress. “Ah, you are too kind, Alejandro! But a King must protect the realms. The battle against the Dark Elves was indeed a fierce one, requiring absolute precision and power.”

As he spoke the word precision, Thor casually leaned back, his icy gaze flicking past you to check if Valentin was looking at you. Finding Valentin’s eyes darting toward your bare shoulders, Thor’s grip on your waist tightened possessively, his jaw clenching as he seamlessly continued his story. “We had to secure ancient, dangerous technologies to ensure they never fell into the wrong hands. It takes a truly formidable force to handle such secrets.”

“Incredible,” Alejandro said, hanging on his every word. “And to manage such cosmic feats while keeping a beautiful wife by your side!”

“She is my greatest anchor,” Thor murmured, his deep voice dropping into a low tone as he turned his head to look down at you. His eyes searched your face with a burning, unreadable intensity that made your heart skip a violent beat. “No matter how chaotic the universe becomes, she is the only one who can truly command my attention.”

You gulped, your eyes helplessly searching his face, desperately trying to read the heavy gravity in his expression. But before you could decipher it, a question cut through the air—one you should have anticipated much sooner.

“So, how did you two meet?” Valentin asked, his voice smooth as he leaned forward. His dark eyes actively tried to find your frame past Thor's broad shoulders, but Thor was absolutely wiping you from his sight, shifting his weight to keep you entirely hidden.

Your blood ran cold. A sudden wave of panic rushed through you, and as you snapped your eyes to Thor, you saw the exact same flash of panic mirrored in his blue eyes. You had never rehearsed a backstory.

“I saw him—” you began hastily, just as Thor started, “We saw each other—”

Your voices mixed awkwardly over the thumping bass of the music. Alejandro looked between the two of you expectantly, his eyebrows raised.

You quickly forced a light, melodic laugh, covering the slip-up as you spoke over each other. Tilting your head up, you offered Thor a brilliant, adoring smile. “My husband should tell you about this one. He’s a real good storyteller, aren't you, darling?” You squeezed his shoulder, your fingers digging into his shirt.

Thor’s hold tightened around your waist, his thumb pressing firmly into your side. “I must let you take over this one, my dear. Your perspective is far more enchanting.”

“I insist,” you said, your voice dripping sweet as honey, though you locked eyes with him in a silent, lethal challenge. You knew pushing the spotlight onto him annoyed him to his absolute core.

“Very well,” he grumbled under his breath, leaning back into the booth. He cleared his throat, his posture shifting into something commanding. Valentin had slid over a bit to the side of the table, desperate to finally see you both, his sharp eyes intensely dissecting the two of you for any cracks in the facade.

“We met years ago, when she was first recruited to the team,” Thor began, his deep baritone rumbling through his chest. He paused, his blue eyes dropping down to look at you, the heavy lounge music suddenly fading into absolute background noise. “I saw her walk into the room. A beautiful woman. Truly, the most breathtaking creature I had ever laid my eyes upon.”

You looked up at him, fully expecting to see a detached, calculated look in his eyes—the face of a soldier executing a calculated lie. But your heart slammed against your ribs. You were shaken to your core at the raw, truthful look in his gaze. Your breath hitched, turning ragged in your chest.

He chuckled softly, the sound low and intimate, as if he had completely forgotten Alejandro and Valentin were even sitting across from them. “But she looked like she had dark, stormy clouds swarming all over her. She was so heavily guarded. So, my brain short-circuited, and I called her gloomy.”

Alejandro’s eyes widened, a grin breaking across his face. “No way!”

Your jaw clenched as the vivid memory made your blood boil all over again. Why the fuck was he telling them what actually happened?

“I know, I shouldn't have,” Thor murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. His gaze was burning into you, scorching you with a look that made your skin prickle. “But seeing her face... my mind simply stopped working. That was the only thing I could utter. And do you know what she did?” He looked over at Alejandro, a genuine, fond smile pulling at his lips. “She didn't cower. She didn't stay silent. She yelled at me. She marched right up to my face and screamed about what a massive, insufferable asshole I was.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in deep, defensive confusion. Wht was he chuckling about that? He had hated you for it.

“She was the first woman to ever yell at me like that, without a single shred of fear, without holding back an ounce of her fire,” Thor said, his voice a raspy register, thick with a devotion that felt terrifyingly real. He reached down, his large hand gently cupping the side of your face, his thumb softly tracing your cheekbone. The tender touch sent a violent jolt of electricity straight down your spine. “That’s when I realized... right there, in the middle of her fury. That’s when I realized she was the love of my life.”

You gulped, your hands clenching into tight fists against your lap. The air was brutally ripped from your lungs. You literally couldn't breathe under the sheer weight of his stare. He was looking down at you as if you were the most precious, sacred thing he had ever been allowed to hold.

“Then, I chased her for years,” Thor continued smoothly, finally tearing his gaze away from your frozen face to smile at Alejandro. “Trying to get her to agree to a single date. I brought flowers to her quarters every single day, trying to melt the ice. She finally caved in after a while... and here we are.”

Thor cleared his throat letting go of your face and adjusting his shirt as Alejandro let out a captivated sigh.

Your gaze remained completely stuck on the line of Thor's neck, your mind spinning in absolute confusion. He had sounded so entirely sincere when he described your beauty. The way he explained falling in love with your fire, it sounded like poetry.

He isn't in love with you, a harsh, grounding voice violently intervened in your mind. He is lying through his teeth to save the mission. He made it all up. You desperately tried to pull yourself together, reciting the mantra over and over: He hates you. He has hated you for years.

But as you sat there, enveloped in the heat of his massive body, a sharp ache bloomed deep in your chest at the reminder of his hatred.

Why did your chest ache at his hatred towards you? And why did it hurt so bad?

“That is just beautiful,” Alejandro breathed, raising his glass in a toast. “A match made in the heavens, truly.”

You swallowed the thick lump in your throat, forcefully shaking the daze out of your head. Forcing your muscles to relax, you put on a flawless, dazzling smile for show, leaning deeper into your fake husband's side while your heart shattered quietly into a million pieces.

The subject changed then, Alejandro and Thor talking about other things while Thor gave you occasional little pecks on your cheek, his lips lingering just enough to keep your heart beating frantically in your mouth.

“Why haven't you two kissed?” Valentin asked suddenly, his voice sharply cutting through the conversation of the two men. His dark eyes roamed all over your face, calculating and deeply skeptical.

What?

Thor turned toward him immediately, his posture shifting into something lethal. “What do you mean, mortal? I’ve been doing nothing but kiss her since we sat down.” His blue eyes narrowed into dangerous slits at Valentin.

“You keep kissing her on her cheeks. Why not on the lips?” Valentin pushed, his gaze sharp and dissecting.

Thor’s gaze darkened to absolute midnight. “It is not your place to ask such questions.”

The playboy had been watching you far too closely; you should’ve seen this one coming. Valentin leaned back, a smug, accusatory grin slowly returning to his face. “You’re acting like you’re pretending—”

Your heart stopped dead in your chest.

“Do not speak one more word, mortal,” Thor spoke, his deep voice dropping an octave as he raised a single, threatening finger.

Alejandro’s expression changed instantly. He looked at his brother with sudden seriousness, his tone sharp. “Leave our guests alone, Val.” But then, Alejandro’s eyes dropped down to the floor for a split second, as if he were mentally calculating something. He turned back toward you, his brow furrowing. “But... he is right. Why haven't you kissed her?”

Your heart started beating faster and faster, a wave of ice-cold panic rushing to your fingertips. Your cover was about to be completely blown right here in the VIP section. Thor’s gaze darkened even further, clearly unpleased and deeply tense at being questioned. This was not good. You had to do something, and you had to do it right now.

“She is my wife—” Thor started angrily, but you smoothly interfered.

With an effortless, confident laugh, you dismissed the two brothers with a casual wave of your hand, acting as if they were nothing more than little, annoying flies. Your left hand found Thor’s massive bicep as you elegantly crossed your legs, slanting them directly over his thick thighs.

Responding to the sudden contact, Thor's arm instinctively wrapped around your back, his eyes snapping down to look at you immediately. What were you doing?

“My husband and I are very passionate,” you said, your voice dripping with a sultry, unbothered confidence as your hand trailed seductively over the broad expanse of his chest. “We try to keep the PDA to a minimum so we don't make people uncomfortable. Should we show them, honey?”

You looked completely unshakable, but inside, your heart was threatening to leap straight out of your chest. The skin of your legs burned where your thighs were glued to his.

Thor’s chest heaved tightly beneath your fingers as you looked up at him through your lashes. His heart missed a beat at the breathtaking sight of you in his lap. Fuck. You both knew exactly what had to be done right now, or the entire mission was over.

Thor’s large hand found the back of your neck, his fingers tightening securely. “Music to my fucking ears, darling,” he growled.

And then, he claimed your lips in an instant. The force of the impact took the remaining breath right out of your lungs. Your left hand instinctively grabbed the back of his neck, your fingers anchoring into his skin, while your other hand remained flat against his heaving chest. Your mouths moved in tandem, a low, helpless sigh of contentment pouring from your throat straight into the kiss. Your head tilted to the side, completely surrendering to the heat.

His right hand on your back slid downward to your waist, grabbing you with an iron, desperate tightness, as if he never intended to let you go for the rest of his immortal life. His other hand moved from the back of your neck up to your head, his thick fingers tangling aggressively through your hair, tilting your face up by giving a firm, sudden tug on your hair. You gasped into his mouth, your teeth sharply biting his lower lip in response. Thor let out a low grunt, his kisses instantly becoming more fervent, deeper, and completely unhinged. You were drowning in him.

Next to you, Alejandro and Valentin looked at each other, their faces flushing as they clearly regretted ever opening their mouths. They were visibly uncomfortable—good. They deserved to be, so they would never question a single thing about the two of you again.

He was entirely consuming you, and gods, was he liking it. He felt the soft circle of your thumb over the nape of his neck, sending a violent wave of chills straight down his spine. You tasted sweet—sweeter than any other lips he had ever tasted in his thousand years of life. Thor licked at the seam of your lips once, a non-verbal command motioning for you to open up for him. You tried to fight it for a split second, a last shred of self-preservation, but he forcefully made you part them by giving your lower lip another sharp bite and executing a firm tug on your hair.

You gasped, your chest heaving against his as he glided his tongue over yours. He was so good at this. So fucking good that you completely forgot where you were, forgot the mission, forgot anyone else existed besides him. He tugged tightly on your waist, trying to pull your body even closer into his mass, but you were already entirely glued to him, his radiating heat burning straight through your side.

Alejandro loudly cleared his throat, but you both kept on going like there was no tomorrow, still kissing him with a desperate, hidden hunger, as if you knew you would never get the chance to hold him like this ever again.

“Okay. We get it,” Valentin muttered, his voice clearly irritated and completely full of deep regret.

Thor let out a heavy grunt, finally parting his lips from yours. A thin, glistening string of saliva formed between your lips before breaking in the dim light. You looked up at him, your eyes completely dazed over, your hair beautifully messed up from his heavy hand, and your lips visibly swollen and red. He stared down at you, his own lips flushed and his pupils blown incredibly wide as his chest rose and fell in ragged breaths.

Taking a shallow breath, you slowly turned your head toward the other two men, a wicked, victorious smile pulling at your lips. “See?” you said.

You tried not to give away how much his kiss had affected you, but you knew you were a fucking mess. Your heart was threatening to leap out of your chest, your lungs heaving fast as you gulped, desperately trying to calm yourself down. How the hell did he affect you this much?

And he was still holding you, his arm wrapped incredibly tight around your waist as he kept looking down at you. His own broad chest was heaving hard as he fought a losing battle to get himself back under control.

It was just a damn kiss for the mission. He shouldn't be this completely unhinged by it. But he felt his pulse fasten more and more the longer he sat there. You had kissed him. You—the bane of his very existence, the woman who had spent years yelling at him and riling him up—had kissed him, and he had liked it. He had liked it so much that a dark, primitive part of his mind wanted nothing more than to drag you right back to his lips, to kiss you heavily until you were breathless, and to roam his hands all over your bare skin, thats all—nothing big really.

He fucking wanted you, and it was nothing big—who was he kidding? It was probably the biggest newsflash in his entire thousand-year lifetime. He wanted you so much that he felt it shaking the very foundations of his immortal soul.

I want her, his mind echoed fiercely. I want her, I want to consume her, I want to be completely consumed by her.

Thor averted his eyes toward the table, his jaw locking. Fuck. How the hell did this happen?

“Yes, we get it, damn,” Alejandro said, breaking the heavy silence with a loud laugh, holding his hands up in surrender.

Valentin, however, was a completely different story. His dark, calculating gaze was still locked dead on your face, intensely trying to decipher the lingering daze in your eyes, trying to see if there was still a crack in the armor—if he could keep on pursuing you.

You noticed his stare immediately, your eyes locking onto his. A sharp jolt of reality hit you. You were sitting in Thor's lap, your thighs crossed over his, kissed by him so thoroughly that your mind had gone entirely blank. You had completely forgotten about your objective.

The codes. You needed the damn digital decryption keys.

You had told Thor earlier that you would handle Valentin tomorrow, but after the possessive display he had just put on, he would clearly find a way to interfere if you tried to flirt with the man tomorrow. It had to be tonight. It had to happen right now under the cover of this party.

Your mind rapidly formulated a plan: you had to first find a way to get away from Thor, corner Valentin alone at the bar, seduce him, and slip a few drops of truth serum into his whiskey glass to extract the server access codes.

It was a perfect, textbook assassin execution. But as you sat there, feeling the heavy, protective weight of Thor's hand on your hip, you realized something. You didn't want to leave the comfort of Thor's embrace.

Oh, how thoroughly, hopelessly fucked you were.

You had to get it together. Bracing yourself, you tried lifting your legs off Thor’s lap, but the exact second you shifted, his iron hold on your waist tightened. His eyebrows furrowed into a hard line, and his questioning, blazing blue gaze snapped up to lock onto yours. He didn’t say a word, but the look in his eyes was loudly demanding to know exactly where the hell you thought you were going.

Why was he acting like this? Why was he looking at you as if that kiss had completely unhinged him just as much as it had affected you?

You helplessly looked into his eyes, your gaze involuntarily dropping down to his swollen lips before snapping back up to his stare. “I’m just going to the bar,” you murmured.

“I’ll come with you,” he said immediately. His deep voice carried a rough, unyielding edge, his instincts focusing entirely on one single objective: keep that vile mortal fucker as far away from you as humanly possible.

“No!—” you scrambled out, a little too desperately, before quickly forcing a soft, reassuring smile to maintain the act. “I’ll be back in a second, honey. It’s okay.”

This felt devastatingly real. He looked genuinely jealous, his possessive aura radiating off him in suffocating waves.

“She can go alone, my friend. I own this entire establishment; nothing could possibly happen to her here,” Alejandro intervened with a booming laugh, reassuring the tense god.

Taking the opening, you carefully slipped out of Thor’s tight grip and stood up. The sudden lack of his heavy hands and burning heat against your skin left you feeling instantly cold, a sudden pang of withdrawal hitting you in the chest. You stubbornly ignored it. Catching Valentin’s eye across the table, you held his gaze for a few seconds longer than any happily married woman ever should, throwing him a subtle, inviting tilt of your head before turning on your heel and making your way toward the crowded bar—finally out of Thor’s direct line of sight.

You knew Valentin would make up a pathetic excuse to follow you within minutes. Arriving at the bar, you caught the bartender’s attention. “A virgin mojito, please,” you ordered smoothly. You were a professional; you were absolutely not going to consume a single drop of alcohol while on an active extraction mission.

You waited for a few minutes, slowly sipping on your refreshing mocktail while keeping your perimeter scan active. Right on cue, a smooth, arrogant voice slithered in next to your ear.

“I take it you didn’t look at me like that back there just to have a drink all by yourself?”

Valentin slid onto the barstool right next to you, his eyes brimming with a smug, predatory confidence.

A slow, practiced smirk pulled at your lips as you gracefully turned your upper body toward him, leaning one elbow against the counter. “I don’t think I get what you mean, Valentin.”

“Don’t play innocent. It’s not a good look on you,” he murmured, his eyes boldly dropping down to the neckline of your dress before rising back to your face. “Though, I must admit... I really like this whole going-around-his-back thing. A dangerous woman gets me thrilled.”

“Hm,” you mumbled, your smile becoming as beautiful and lethal as a viper's. You leaned in a fraction closer into his personal space, letting your voice drop into a sultry, confidential whisper. “Are you just going to stand there talking, or are you gonna have a drink with me?”

Valentin’s smirk widened, completely intoxicated by the sudden green light. “I could never say no to a woman like you.” He immediately raised a hand to the bartender. “Get me a double Macallan, neat.”

As the bartender turned around to pour the amber liquor, you covertly slid your right hand into the small, hidden pocket built into the lining of your white midi dress. Your fingertips brushed against the tiny, cold glass vial containing S.H.I.E.L.D.-issued truth serum—colorless, odorless, and fast-acting.

The bartender placed the heavy crystal whiskey glass right in front of Valentin.

“You know,” you purred, deliberately reaching across Valentin's chest to grab a small bowl of nuts from the opposite side of his stool. The intentional movement forced your bare shoulder to brush heavily against his chest, completely breaking his concentration as his eyes locked onto your neck.

With a fluid, invisible grace, your thumb flicked the cap off the vial. As your arm crossed over his open whiskey glass, you seamlessly dropped three drops of the serum directly into the amber liquid.

You pulled back, placing the bowl between you with an innocent, dazzling smile. “A toast. To private tastings.”

“To private tastings,” Valentin echoed darkly, completely oblivious. He picked up the crystal glass and took a massive, confident gulp of the whiskey, swallowing the serum down in one smooth motion.

You counted the seconds in your head. Three. Two. One.

Almost instantly, Valentin’s posture relaxed a fraction too much. The sharp, predatory spark in his eyes suddenly dulled into a slight, hazy glaze, his blinking slowing down as the neural inhibitors rapidly flooded his system, forcing his vocal cords to lose all capacity for deception.

Your smirk turned razor-sharp. It was time to get to work.

“Valentin,” you whispered, leaning in so close your breath brushed his ear, masking your interrogation beneath the thumping bass of the party. “Let’s talk about your brother’s collection. Where are the digital decryption keys for the Dark Elf technology stored?”

Valentin’s jaw loosened, his voice coming out completely flat, devoid of its previous arrogant inflection. “The main encryption drive stays locked in the master server vault... sub-level two of the main villa compound. Hold on why are you asking me th—”

“And how do I bypass the biometric firewall?” you cut him off before he could think.

“The security bypass code changes every twelve hours,” Valentin droned automatically, his hand resting limply against the counter.

“Mhm, and what is it lets say... tomorrow night?” you pushed seamlessly, your eyes locked onto his dazed face.

“Tomorrow night's terminal override sequence for the vault is... Alpha-Niner-Seven-X-Ray-Delta.”

Bingo.

Your brain instantly memorized the alphanumeric sequence, a cold, triumphant rush of adrenaline flooding your veins. You had the codes for tomorrow. The entire mission could be wrapped up in less than three days, just like you wanted. You could finally leave this godforsaken resort, get away from this cover, and most importantly—get away from the dangerous, addictive pull of the God of Thunder.

Valentin pouted as he looked at you, his eyes glassy and confused under the weight of the serum. "But why are you asking me all th—"

“I have to go, dear,” you cut him off quickly, placing a hand on his bicep and giving it a soothing squeeze to keep him compliant.

But his hand snapped up, gripping your arm to keep you from pulling away. “No, you can't leave. I had plans for us tonight...”

“No plans for us today,” you cooed, lowering your voice to a soft, hypnotic purr as you playfully booped his nose. He pouted even more at the gesture. You mentally rolled your eyes, already looking back toward the crowded VIP booth to check on Thor.

“But I wanted to fuck you—“

You whipped your head back toward Valentin so fast you thought you were going to get whiplash. But before you could even react to his crude words, he was brutally cut off.

A massive hand descended from the shadows like a falling meteor, wrapping entirely around the back of Valentin’s head and fiercely slamming his face straight down onto the marble counter.

Crack.

You gasped, your eyes blowing wide. Nearby guests screamed and immediately scrambled away, completely shocked by the sudden, violent ordeal. Valentin let out a pathetic, muffled groan as a dark stream of red instantly started dripping down his nostrils, pooling on the counter.

Thor held him pinned there, his massive hand basically covering most of Valentin's skull. You were so damn sure that if he applied just a fraction more pressure, he would crush the man's head like a ripe grape.

“You do not talk to my wife like that,” Thor growled, his voice a vibrating rumble that shook the very foundation of the bar.

“Thor, stop it!” you panicked, your hands desperately finding his rigid bicep, trying to pull his arm back.

Muffled against the stone, Valentin let out a wet, dizzy chuckle, the serum making him completely reckless. “Well, god-man... your wife lured me here—“

Slam.

Thor violently cracked his head against the counter a second time.

“I told you not to make a scene, didn't I?!”you yelled at the top of your lungs over the blasting music, frantically pulling at his arm to stop him from committing murder.

Thor slowly turned his head to look down at you. His blue eyes were completely blown with an unhinged, primitive rage. “I told you not to make me make one, did I not?!” he yelled back, his booming voice completely overriding the bass of the blasting lounge music.

You involuntarily flinched at the volume and raw power of his voice. You let out a sharp, furious huff, tore your hands off his arm, and turned around to bolt.

“Where do you think you're going?!” he demanded loudly.

He finally let go of Valentin, leaving theman to groan and slump heavily against the bar as you made your way out of the party. Every single eye of the high-society couples was locked onto you, whispering in terror as you stormed past.

“Stop!” Thor yelled after you, his heavy footsteps echoing right behind you, but your steps only fastened into a dead sprint.

You practically flew down the dark, stone paths of the resort, making your way back to the secluded villa. There wasn't a single soul around out here.

“I told you to stop!” he yelled again, his massive strides easily closing the distance as he caught up to you just as you reached the front door.

“And I told you to behave!” you screamed back, throwing the door open and slamming it behind you, desperately trying to force the heavy wood to lock on his face.

But you failed miserably.

“And I told you to stay away from him!” Thor yelled, forcing the door open without a single shred of effort—it was probably like flicking away a fly for him—before he aggressively slammed it shut behind him, sealing the two of you inside the tense silence of the villa.

“Why do you care?!” you yelled, throwing your arms up in the air as you spun around to face him, your face burning hot from rage.

“Why did you defy what I told you?” he pushed, stepping heavily into your personal space, his towering chest heaving.

“Because you are my mission partner, not my superior!”you shrieked, the built-up frustration of the last few hours completely boiling over. “God! You and your insufferable superiority complex!” You yelled again, aggressively turning your back to him to get away from his presence, making a beeline toward the open balcony doors.

“Do not walk away from me!” Thor roared.

In two quick strides, he crossed the room. His hand locked firmly around your wrist, his grip unyielding but careful not to break you, as he yanked you back and turned you around to face him dead-on.

You opened your mouth to say something, but all words completely left you as you noticed how your noses were inches away, your breathing fastening to a panicked, ragged rhythm as you looked up at him. His chest was heaving just like yours, the sheer mass of him completely crowding you into the balcony's door. You just gulped, your eyes helplessly finding his lips again before you forced your gaze up to meet his intense stare.

“Why are you acting like you actually care?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly, your eyes filled with deep questioning. His eyes, which were locked onto your lips, finally flicked up to look directly into your eyes. He gulped, a muscle tightening in his jaw as he flatly lied, “I don’t.” He averted his eyes immediately after.

He cared. He fucking cared so much, but he could not let you know.

You scoffed loudly at his terrible deflection. “What’s all this then? You’ve been acting so strange since we got here—” His eyes snapped right back to yours, flashing with a sudden heat. “Oh, like you haven’t!” he said, his iron grip on your wrist tightening just a bit.

“What?” you gaped, your mouth forming a perfect 'O' shape at his audacity. “The nerve of you! I have been acting completely normal!” You aggressively tried to push against his heavy chest to create some distance, but it was like trying to shove a solid brick wall; it was not working.

“Have you, though?” he challenged. His head tilted slightly to the side as he looked down at you, his towering frame completely casting you in shadow. “You’ve been trying to avoid me ever since we arrived. Mind you, we are supposed to be husband and wife here, and instead of me, you kept throwing yourself into the arms of that bastard—”

“Excuse me for acting exactly like I should while we are on a high-stakes mission—”

“Is this how you act while you are on a mission?” he fiercely cut you off. He took a heavy, deliberate step forward, crowding you so completely that you were forced to push your back straight into the balcony door, the glass cool against your skin. His expression morphed into one of deep distaste—like the mere thought of you acting exactly like this on other operations disturbed him to his very bone.

“Not at all, Thor,” you muttered, finally averting your eyes as a wave of genuine discomfort washed over your face. “But I occasionally do have to seduce men here and there. It’s not a big deal—”

His thick eyebrows furrowed deeply. Before you could turn your face away completely, his large hand came up, his fingers gently but firmly catching your chin to force you to look at him. “Not a big deal? Is someone making you seduce them? There are other ways to extract information—” he started, his deep tone initially angry but quickly softening with a rare, unexpected touch of sympathy.

You swallowed hard against the lump in your throat. “Thor, I have been trained this way. And your ways are always too loud—”

“Who the fuck trained you like this?” he growled, the symapthy instantly vanishing into a dark, protective fury. “How many times have you done this, huh?”

Your own eyebrows furrowed in a defensive shield. His entire ftame was looming over you, completely clouding your thoughts and making it hard to think straight. You reached up, removing his hand from your face. “That is absolutely none of your business—”

His entire posture changed as the anger morphed into a heavy gravity. His eyes dropped to your arms first then followed to your midriff before snapping back to your face. “Who gave you those scars?”

“What?” Your eyes widened in pure horror, the air instantly taken right out of your lungs. This cannot be happening, your voice echoed inside your mind. He could not know. You could not let him see that vulnerable, broken piece of your past. “Thor, this is ridiculous. Let me go—”

You tried pushing him away again, your chest heaving in absolute desperation to break free from his hold. But he only used his mass to pin you into the door even more, his gaze intensely determined as his hand found your jaw once again, holding you still.

He was going to find out who those fuckers were, and he was going to make them pay. He didn't fully understand why he had this overwhelming, primitive urge to protect you, but he did, and he was going to deliver on it.

“Please, Little Flame,” he murmured, his voice dropping into a desperate plea. “Are they the same people who trained you?—”

“Why do you even want to know?!” you cried out, your voice finally cracking with deep pain. Tears instantly began brewing in your eyes, blurring his handsome face. He couldn't know. If he found out, he was going to use that knowledge against you. He was going to taunt you with it during your next argument, break you with your own nightmare of a history. He was going to make sure he hurt you, just like he did every single time he managed to get a glimpse of something personal about you. He was going to break your heart completely in half and toss it away.

He was going to, because he was the only person in the universe who actually had the power to do it.

“So you can torture me more?” you whispered, your voice shaking as a single tear escaped down your cheek.

Thor’s breath got caught in his throat. A sudden, physical pain pierced his chest, wrapping around his heart so tightly that he let out a sharp huff of air. It was a pain so great, so profoundly agonizing, that it started burning through his lungs before radiating all the way out to his fingertips.

Is this truly what you thought of him?

He knew he taunted you. He knew he did everything in his being to annoy you on a daily basis. He knew he wasn't your friend, and that you both claimed to dislike each other. But he had never, in his wildest dreams, thought you could actually think him capable of causing you real, deep-rooted pain.

A fierce, protective fire burned brightly behind his blue eyes as he leaned down, his lips practically brushing your temple as he spoke.

“So that I can torture them first as they did you,” he vowed, his voice low, terrifyingly dark promise that vibrated against your skin. “And then permanently remove them from existence.”

Your angelic face twisted into a look of deep, utter confusion. What the hell was he talking about? Why on Earth would he want to do something like that for you?

Thor’s hand softened on your jaw, his thumb gently wiping away the tear on your cheek with a heartbreaking amount of tenderness. He looked down at you, his pupils blown wide with an unyielding devotion. “No... I have a better idea. I am going to tear down whatever sanctuary they think they have, drag them to the deepest pits of Hel myself, and hand-deliver a punishment that will last for eternity. No one touches you, Little Flame. Never again.”

Your heart stuttered at his words, newfound tears completely blocking your vision now at being on the receiving end of them. He sounded so profoundly sincere, so entirely full of devotion that it made your stomach flutter wildly and your heart sing with a bittersweet ecstasy.

Why was he being this protective over you? Was it just because of your mission? Has he started to actually believe the lie, to believe you were truly his wife? And why did you believe every single word he said without an ounce of your usual skepticism?

How was he making your heart soar like this? Why did he have so much power over you, over your poor, guarded heart? Why did he have to be this perfect?

Why did you love him so much?

You gasped aloud as the intrusive thought took the remaining breath away from your lungs. You loved him. You were completely, undeniably in love with him. You were in love with the man who mocked you, annoyed you, tortured you with his words. You were in love with the man you claimed to dislike for all these years.

And that realization only made you cry harder, the tears spilling over your lashes because you were entirely convinced he was never going to love you back.

“I—” you started, trying to find your voice, but a heavy, broken sob ripped through your chest instead.

Thor's face immediately fell into an expression of deep, agonizing concern. His blue eyes searched your face frantically as he wrapped his massive arms around you, pulling you securely against his broad chest.

“Please do not cry, honey,” he murmured, his deep baritone cracking in pain.

He called you honey. He called you honey in private, in the quiet safety of your shared room, while holding you as if you were made of glass. It was so sweet, so tender, so full of an unprompted meaning. What on earth had happened to the two of you? Just hours ago, you were bitterly bickering about your morning coffee, but now you were collapsed in his arms, crying simply because he wanted to protect you.

Nobody did that for you. Nobody had ever said they would protect you, because they always expected you to handle it yourself. They knew what you were capable of; they knew you were lethal.

Nobody ever thought you would need someone else to do your bidding for you.

His large hand moved to the back of your head, his thick fingers gently stroking through your hair as he spoke, his voice dropping into a raspy whisper. “Darling, are you crying because of me?” He swallowed hard, his voice cracking again. “Do you truly think I mean to harm you? Do you think so little of me?”

You sobbed, your fingers clutching desperately onto the fabric of his shirt, burying your face into his chest.

“I’m begging you, do not cry,” he gulped, his own chest heaving as he held you tighter. “It... it hurts me.”

“I had been nothing but a laboratory experiment to them,” you finally choked out, the confession tearing out of your throat.

Thor froze instantly, his entire muscular body stiffening beneath your touch.

Slowly, you tilted your head up, your chin resting against his chest. Your lashes were damp with heavy tears that still kept falling silently down your cheeks. Thor’s hand gently cupped your face, his thumb catching the moisture, his eyes entirely locked onto yours as he listened with a quiet focus.

“They didn’t see a young woman,” you whispered, your throat tightening painfully as your grip on his shirt tightened. “They only saw a lab rat. A nameless object to be broken, tested, and rebuilt. I remember the cold steel of the table. I remember begging and begging... crying until my eyes bled, but they just kept on going.”

Thor’s blue eyes darkened into a midnight so black it looked like a brewing storm. A terrifying rage formed deep within him—a rage so massive and destructive that he felt he could destroy all of humanity just to see the lingering pain disappear from your eyes.

“Who are they?” He demanded, and your eyes closed in despair.

Should you tell him? Should you let him be a part of the darkest corners of your past?

Should you trust him?

“Darling, please tell me,” he begged, his voice trembling with a restrained fury as he looked down at you. “Who did this to you?”

Your throat tightened, your pulse fluttering at his gentle words and protective tone. You sighed opening your eyes, “They were a faction I later discovered to be the vile, lingering remnants of Hydra.”

Thor saw pure red. His throat tightened to the point of suffocation at the horrific image of you at the mercy of those monsters—being tortured, crying, entirely helpless.

“I need names,” he growled softly, the air in the room turning heavy with static.

“I don’t have names—”

“I will find names.”

“I don't know if you can, Thor, it was years—”

“I will,” he cut you off, his tone leaving absolutely no room for argument. He brought his other hand to your cheek, tilting your face up just a fraction. “Keep going, honey.” His voice was incredibly gentle for you, even as the undercurrent of his rage thrummed through his veins. He could barely bear to listen to the atrocities you had survived, but he had to. You were finally opening up to him, and he would listen to you until the end of time.

You gulped, trying to steady your breathing. “At the time, they were desperate, trying to replicate the lost Super Soldier serum using volatile cosmic energy signatures they barely understood.” You let out another shaky sob, and Thor immediately rubbed your back in slow, soothing circles, offering you every ounce of comfort his massive frame could provide. “More needles inserted into my skin... more radiation pumped into my veins, all for the sake of a twisted immortality.”

You held him tighter, closing your eyes against the memories. “And once they realized what they had created, they turned me into a ghost. An assassin. They forced me—forced me to do horrific, bloody things, Thor. I hurt so many people.” You opened your eyes, looking up at him with an unbearable vulnerability. “I did horrible, horrible things.”

The tears came faster now, the weight of your past crushing you as you sobbed uncontrollably against him. “I never wanted to do any of those things... they made me, I swear they made me, and they hurt me to make me do it—”

“Shh, sweetheart,” Thor interrupted softly, his voice thick with emotion as he clutched you even tighter against his heart, burying his face into your hair, his nose nudging your scalp as he did so. “None of this is your fault. Look at me.” He pulled back just enough to cup your face with both of his massive hands, gently forcing you to look up into his striking blue eyes. “None of it is your fault.”

“I am the one who did all of it—” Your voice cut off as another wave of tears streamed down your cheeks. It was like a dam had permanently broken in your chest, and there was absolutely no stopping it now. You were crying for the stolen years, crying for the innocent lives your hands had been forced to take, crying because you felt completely stripped bare and vulnerable—but most of all, you were crying because you loved him.

“I told you it is not your fault, sweetheart,” he said, his tone turning fiercely stern, leaving no room for you to argue with him. “You were kidnapped. Tortured.” He gulped like it was a great pain to say these words, “Your whole life was altered by monsters. You were made to do all of it.” His own voice grew heavy with sadness as he looked at your tears. “You did nothing wrong. You were just trying to survive, honey.”

“I’m so glad Steve and Tony saved me,” you whispered, your throat burning. “I... I don’t know what I’d do if it wasn't for them.”

At the mention of their names, Thor felt his chest tighten with a sharp, unexpected pang. Who else on the team knew the full extent of this? Steve and Tony, definitely. Natasha? You two were close; you would have told her. Bucky? Bruce? Clint? Was he truly the only person who had been left completely in the dark?

And to think he had called you gloomy.

A heavy cloak of regret settled over his shoulders. It was all true—everything he had confessed to Alejandro and Valentin at the table. He had thought you were the most breathtakingly beautiful woman he had ever seen the moment you walked into the compound years ago. But he had fucked it all up by opening his mouth and saying you looked gloomy. Would the two of you be any different right now if he hadn't used that stupid word?

“I am sorry,” he mumbled, the unexpected words catching your attention through the haze of your crying. He looked down at you, his eyes pained. “So fucking sorry I called you gloomy. Truly sorry. Can you—” He gulped hard, his chest heaving. “Can you forgive me?”

“I...” You trailed off, staring up at him in utter disbelief. Where the hell was this coming from? The walls around your heart instantly tried to slam back up. “Do you pity me now? Is that it?” you asked, your tone shifting into something sharp and defensive.

Thor’s eyes widened in immediate panic. “No—not pity. Towards you at least, never. I pity myself.”

“What does that even mean—”

“I meant every single word I said back there at the table,” he said softly, his thumbs tenderly grazing your cheeks to wipe away the fresh tears.

Your heart gave a violent flutter against your ribs, but it felt entirely too good to be true. You couldn't let yourself fall for a beautiful lie. “Do not mock me, Thor—”

“I would never.”

Your eyebrows went straight up, your expression clearly stating the obvious. He loved mocking you. He made it his absolute daily mission to get under your skin and irritate you to death.

Thor scrunched his face up at your look, a soft, self-deprecating sigh escaping his lips. “On this matter, I mean. I would never, ever mock you on a matter such as this, Little Flame.”

You scoffed, quickly averting your eyes from the intensity of his gaze. “Now you're just being cruel, big guy—“you tried to pry yourself off him, but one of his hands holding your face descended to your waist and circled it tightly.

“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met in my thousands of years alive.”

Your eyes widened with shock as they snapped back to meet his. Your heart dropped straight to your stomach with a violent jolt of excitement—of pure happiness.

“I am?” you whispered, the words coming out small and fragile, like a secret you were almost too afraid to speak aloud. It felt entirely unbelievable.

“You are,” he said, nodding firmly as he looked down at you.

There was something profoundly pure swirling in his deep blue eyes. It was a look you dared not name, because if you did, the only thing you could possibly call it would be adoration. He looked at you as if he completely and utterly adored you.

As you stared up at him, it hit you: that look was familiar.

He had always looked at you this way. Back at the compound, during your worst arguments, across the briefing table—his pupils would blow wide, a hidden mirth would dance behind his eyes, mixed with this exact same heavy, unyielding intensity. All these years, you had defensively rewritten that look as dislike, as a god looking down on an annoying mortal. Has he always looked at you with adoration in his eyes? Or were you just desperately lying to yourself now because your own walls were crumbling?

Either way, your breath was completely knocked out of you. Panic, cold and sharp, flooded your veins. You had to get away from him. You had to protect your heart, your soul, whatever was left of your sanity. You had already bared your darkest, most painful secret to him—the one thing you had specifically kept hidden from him out of fear—and you were terrified of what else you might reveal the longer you spent wrapped up in his arms.

“I—“You panicked even more as his gaze softened with that heartbreakingly tender look. You planted your palms against his chest and pushed. “I think it would be better if you let go of me now.” Thor’s expression changed, the vulnerability vanished, his eyes darkening to a stormy, dangerous hue. He had just laid his soul bare, admitting he found you more beautiful than anything in the cosmos, and now you were demanding he let you go?

“No,” he rumbled, his grip on your waist tightening rather than loosening. “Why would I do that?”

“Because I want you to—I need you to—“

“Why would you need me to do that?” he demanded, his voice dropping dangerously. “Are you that disgusted by me?”

Before you could even process the question, his expression shifted again. The anger twisted into something entirely unhinged as the green-eyed monster clawed ruthlessly at his insides, blinding him with an irrational fury.

“So you will gladly get close to that bastard at the bar, let his filthy hands touch your skin, but you cannot bear to have me hold you?”

Your mouth parted as you looked at him with pure, unyielding disbelief. “What on earth are you on about? Why do you keep talking about him like I'm actually into him—“

“Are you?” he fiercely cut you off.

He leaned down further, his eyes agressively scanning every inch of your face, his hot breath fanning across your lips. It made your breath hitch painfully in your throat. His completely irrational, wild behavior was forcing you to consider a reality you shouldn't. Something you would have never dared to think of just moments ago. Was he jealous?

Was he actually fucking jealous?

A dangerous spark of defiance flared up inside your chest. “What if I am?” you pushed, tilting your chin up to challenge him. “You cannot be,” he said, a flash of pure, territorial anger burning hot behind his eyes. “I will not let you. You are—you—“ He stammered, his usual booming eloquence completely deserting him as his gaze furiously swept over your face, desperately trying to decipher if you actually harbored any feelings for that fucker.

You smiled daringly up at him. You knew you probably looked absolutely wicked right now, with your smudged mascara, your flushed cheeks, and that fierce, determined look in your eyes.

“Are you jealous, big guy?” you whispered.

Your hands, which had been resting on his chest, began trailing upwards to his neck seductively. You didn't even have control over your own body anymore; it was like some primal instinct had taken over and you had to do this. You had to break him. You had to get him to confess. You felt entirely insane—just seconds ago, you were panicking and trying to push him away, and now you were mindlessly feeling him up, loving the power you had over him. Fuck.

Thor felt his heartbeat fasten against his ribs. His arm around your waist constricted, pulling you so close that there wasn't a single shred of air left between your bodies, his jaw locking hard in place. He knew exactly what you were doing. You were playing with fire on purpose. He made a ‘pfft’ sound, “I am not—“ he tried, desperately attempting to lie straight to your face.

“I think you are, honey,” you purred, leaning in until your breath fanned directly over his lips, your thumb lazily circling the heated skin at the nape of his neck. Even his neck was hot, for god's sake. It was thick and masculine. He was so masculine. His eyes immediately drifted down to your lips again, his resolve crumbling. “I am not. I simply... I wish to protect you because you are my teammate—“

“Oh, so I should just go back down to the bar and find him, then?” you pushed ruthlessly. You tilted your head, feigning complete innocence with your wide, tear-bright eyes.

He huffed, utterly furious at the mere suggestion. “Absolutely not. You are not leaving this damn room without me by your side.”

Your wicked smile widened. “Why not?” you purred, your face moving a fraction closer until your lips almost brushed his jaw. “I could touch him like this...” Your hands drifted down from his neck, sliding over the heavy planes of his chest down to his massive biceps, making his muscles instantly twitch under your fingertips. “I could kiss him like I did you, just minutes ago—“

Thor couldn't take it a single second longer.

His lips slanted over yours, ruthlessly cutting your sentence and your breath off. He pulled you even closer toward him, holding you like you were his absolute lifeline, pressing you so tight against his broad, muscular frame that it felt like your bodies were becoming one. You kissed him back passionately, completely losing yourself in the intoxicating heat of it. Your hands flew up to find his rough cheeks, and you pushed yourself up on your tiptoes, pressing your lips hungrily onto his.

He bit your lower lip with a sudden, needy sharpness, then stopped. He reluctantly moved his head away just a few inches, his breathing heavy and ragged as he whispered against your mouth, “You are not to kiss anyone but me.” His thumb came up, grazing over your throbbing lower lip. “Stop it, alright?” he whispered, then pecked your lips.

“Why—“

He pecked your lips again, roughly cutting you off, and then growled the confession right into your mouth: “Because I am fucking jealous, okay honey?”

He kissed you again, and you actually smirked straight into the kiss. The absolute victory of making a literal god admit defeat made your heart soar into the stratosphere. You pulled back though your lips were still grazing his, whispering wickedly against his mouth, “What was that?”

He pecked your lips again, desperate, heavy, and completely surrendered to you. “I have been burning with jealousy since I saw him lay his filthy eyes on you. I do not know what is wrong with me, but I—” He gulped hard, his large thumb slowly gliding over your flushed cheek. “I am consumed by it.”

A breathless, giddy giggle escaped your lips then. “Okay, big guy.”

He was jealous. The King of Asgard was completely, undeniably jealous, and he had just admitted it to you in the dark of your room. Oh god, you were losing your mind—and you never wanted to find it again.

But one question prodded at your mind before he made it all disappear with a fierce kiss, why was he jealous in the first place?

But you were not in your right mind. Because Thor wasn’t kissing you like a normal kiss. He was inhaling you, and it was already lighting you on fire.

The height difference was clearly bothering him as much as it was bothering you. Feeling the strain, Thor lowered himself just a bit before sliding his hands under your thighs, effortlessly lifting you completely off the floor, making your dress ride up. Your arms immediately circled around his thick neck—the very same neck you had been dying to strangle just hours ago—and you let out a soft moan directly into his mouth as his hands slipped up from your thighs to find your ass, squeezing your cheeks tightly as he pinned you securely against his massive frame. You moaned into his mouth, not being able to help it.

A hand left your ass and wrapped around your neck, while the other moved back to your waist to securely hold you, angling your face to kiss you as deeply as he wanted. His tongue pressed over yours as he walked himself backward into the bedroom. The kiss was heated, so full of passion you felt your insides burn with it. His kisses descended to your jaw, then to your neck as he hummed in deep appreciation. What were you doing kissing Thor, of all people? What were you doing letting Thor take you to bed, of all people?

But the thought couldn't even fully form as he bit down on your neck, making you whine in pain.

“Thor—” you begged, without knowing what it was you were begging for.

— “Yes?” he rumbled against your skin as he licked the sensitive spot on your neck, then he laid you over the mattress, settling his heavy body over you. He massaged your hips as he settled himself deeply between your legs. You spread them wide to accommodate him, and felt it poking hard against your thigh.

His cock, thick and hard, was somehow bigger than you had imagined—and you hadn’t been thinking small.

“Guess we don't have to fight over who gets the bed anymore,” you quipped, your voice breathless, trying to find a defense in your usual wit.

It made him chuckle, a low vibration against your chest. “I guess not,” he whispered, then took your lips again. This kiss was softer than before, slowly dismantling you as his lips glided over yours. Then he pressed his hips heavily against your core, making you whine out loud.

“Do you feel that?” He pulled your upper lip between his teeth, smiling slightly into the heat of your face. “It’s what you do to me. Ever since we landed here, I’ve be walking around so hard I was worried you’d see it. But no.” He kissed one corner of your mouth, then the other. “You’re oblivious, aren’t you, honey?”

He found you that attractive?

You hummed, tipping your head back in complete surrender. Thor groaned, dragging his lips over a throbbing pulse point, letting his tongue flick against the sensitive skin of your throat. “You like that too,” he grunted, his breath hot in your ear. “You like bein’ the one person that gets me going, that makes me lose it. No one else, my Little Flame.”

He held your hips again and pushed your ass forward, locking you in place so your clit was pushed tightly against the thick hardness of him through the fabric. A long moan escaped your lips, and you dropped your face into his shoulder, completely undone.

Thor grunted, rutting forward, and it was so fucking hot you couldn't think past it. The deep drawl of his voice in your ear, the impossible strength of him around you—it was intoxicating. The clothing added a desperate, heavy extra friction, his fingers digging into your hips.

“Just you,” he thrusted forward against your core, squeezing your ass tightly with his other hand. “Only you, sweetheart. So beautiful and sassy, driving me insane—“

You whimpered as Thor made a low, ragged sound, taking a deep, shaky breath against your hair. His hand then slipped into your panties, his deft fingers dragging down to tease right against the already damp drip of your pussy. His fingers started circling your clit, a thick dampness forming immediately down there under his torturously perfect touch. “Please—” you cried out, your hips bucking up instinctively against his hand, begging for him to end this perfect torture.

“Please what, honey?i Thor rasped, his touch growing heavier, more demanding as he felt your walls slick and trembling for him. “Tell me exactly what you want me to do to you”

“I want you,” you gasped out as he inserted his middle finger inside you—and fuck, even his finger was incredibly large.

“Not enough, sweetheart,” he grumbled, pressing his thumb firmly down onto your clit, making you squirm and twitch helplessly in place beneath his weight.

“What do I have to say—“

“I said tell me exactly what you want, did I not?” he rumbled, suddenly moving his finger deep inside you, rhythmically fucking you with it. You whined loudly at the sudden, overwhelming friction, your hands locking onto his massive biceps and squeezing hard enough to leave marks. “I want you to—“ you gasped, your vision blurring. “I want you to fuck me... no, I need you to fuck me. Please.”

You were completely reduced to begging him. In response, his fingers slicked deeper as he added his ring finger into your heat, stretching you beautifully, but then he stopped abruptly.

There was simply too much extra fabric from your midi dress crumpled up in his way.

Your eyebrows furrowed, the sudden loss of momentum leaving you aching and confused. “What is it?”

He didn't respond with words. Instead, his large hands slid down to your lower back, his knuckles brushing your bare skin as his fingers found the zipper of your dress.

Your blood ran completely cold in an instant. Your whole body stiffened up beneath him, every single muscle locking tight.

Your scars.

Other people, other agents, had seen them on the battlefield or during training, and you had never felt bad about it. But this was Thor. You knew he had caught a fleeting glimpse of them at the pool earlier, but he hadn't truly seen all of them. He hadn't seen the worst of them. And this was not a public pool, was it? This was intimate. This was completely private. Which meant he would have all the time in the world to analyze them with his eyes, more time to realize how broken your body really was, more time to get disgusted by them—

The heavy weight of his hand cupped your jaw, covering it completely and instantly grounding you, cutting your spiraling thoughts short. “What is it?” he asked softly, his blue eyes searching yours in the dim light. “What's wrong, Little Flame?”

You gulped hard, helplessly averting your eyes from his intense stare. “I—I don't know about this...”

“Do you want to stop?” he asked immediately, completely freezing, his hand instantly lifting away from the zipper of your dress without hesitation.

“No!” you scrambled out desperately. Your eyes snapped back to find his, and you saw deep confusion in them.

How could he not be confused? You probably looked completely insane to him right now. First you were kissing him like there was no tomorrow, then you were begging him to take you, then you were voicing a doubt, but you were still fiercely refusing to stop. You were goddamn confusing.

You closed your eyes, a wave of shame washing over you. “It's just that I...” You swallowed hard. “I don't think I should remove my dress.”

His eyebrows furrowed deeply. “But I want to feel you. I do not understand,” he said, getting more perplexed by the second.

You huffed, unable to meet his eyes. “My scars... they are not pleasant to look at, Thor.”

“You do not know what is pleasant to my eyes or not,” he countered instantly, his deep voice carrying an unyielding certainty that took you completely aback.

“But—“

“I find you attractive. I find your scars attractive. I find every single part of you breathtakingly attractive,” he said, his tone dropping into a fierce vow as his hand found the track of your zipper once again. He didn't pull it, he just waited, asking for your trust. “Please let me see you, darling,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over yours, his warm breath intoxicating. “So that I can witness your beauty. So that I can show you exactly how much I love your scars, how much I love every part of you.”

Your eyes were wide, your heart beating so fast and hard against your ribs it felt painful. Should you actually let him?

This was Thor, for god's sake. He was never the nicest person to you—

But was he not?

A sudden rush of memories flooded your brain, completely reframing the last few years. He always looked out for you on dangerous missions, shielding your blind spots. Even though he irritated you daily, he always helped you carry heavy equipment crates—though not before he smugly made you cave in and admit you couldn't do it yourself, just like he did with your suitcases. He had caught you by the waist every single time you tripped. His eyes had always, always been tracked onto you in every room. And tonight, he had called you the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his thousands of years of life, before literally threatening to crush a man's skull for disrespecting you.

So no. He had never been rude to you. He had always been good to you. He annoyed you, sure, but he was so goddamn protective and sweet to you in his own annoying and loud way, and you had somehow just noticed it. How the hell did you just notice it?

Your chest was heaving heavily as you made your final decision, the remaining walls around your heart completely collapsing.

“Okay,” you whispered, nodding your head against the pillow.

Thor smiled then—a soft, blindingly beautiful smile that made him look younger, happier. His lips easily found yours again in a deep, reassuring kiss as his hand slowly, smoothly slid the zipper all the way down, gently removing the white dress from your body and leaving nothing between you but the heat of his skin.

You were now left in your white bra and panties, his gaze burning your skin as he looked all over you. His heart soared at the sight of you, but he felt a sharp pang of pain in his chest at the scars littering your skin. They were a lot more than he thought, but gods, they only made you more attractive to him. A strong woman, with the face of an angel and the body of a goddess—you were always meant to be his undoing.

His fingers grazed a thin line along your ribs as his mind echoed fiercely, She is beautiful, and I am going to make them pay for hurting her, all of them.

"Stop looking at me like that," you squirmed, a faint trace of your old discomfort resurfacing.

Instead of drawing back, he leaned over your body, his face level with your stomach as his large hands gently grabbed your sides, anchoring you. And then, he lowered his head and kissed one of the most visible, ragged scars you had near your hip.

“You are beautiful. Truly a goddess... one fit for me,” he muttered against your skin, before kissing the mark again.

Your breath hitched, your head spinning into a daze. That specific scar was from the most lethal trauma you had ever endured. You had almost died that day; in fact, you had hoped to die that day just to escape. But your captives had found a way to keep you alive, using brutal, advanced procedures to permanently bind your altered biology together. Tears welled up in your eyes, your vision blurring for the second time that night. To see him kiss it like that—so tenderly, with so much reverence—made something warm and heavy fill your chest. It was like a fractured part of you was finally feeling whole again.

I love him, your mind screamed at you for the second time that day. Your right hand instinctively found his rough cheek, your fingers tangling in his beard as he kept kissing your scars. One left from needles being inserted into the exact same place dozens of times; one left from a failed escape attempt on a mission they sent you on, a punishment for not obeying... He was kissing every single one of them.

And while his lips hovered over the worst one near your hip again, you finally whispered, “I almost died when I got that one.”

His head immediately whipped up, his heart tightening painfully in his chest at your words. “What?” he asked, his throat closing in, his blue eyes blazing with an intense, dark focus.

“They used a plasma blade to slice me open during a combat stress-test,” you whispered, the memory making your voice shake. “They wanted to see how fast the cosmic energy in my blood would knit the flesh back together while I was conscious. I begged them to just let me bleed out.”

Thor’s hold on your sides violently tightened, his knuckles turning white and his jaw locking so hard a muscle strove in his cheek. “I am going to make them pay, Little Flame." he said his voice determined, "I am going to avenge you. They are going to feel the wrath of the God of Thunder, be sure of that. No one, and I mean no one, gets away with hurting you.”

He turned his head toward the hand holding his cheek, shifting slightly to press a deep, lingering kiss against the inside of your wrist, right over your pulsing vein, like he wanted to be sure you were alive. Like he needed reassurance of your well being after your confession. He could not bear the thought of you in pain, but death? You on the brink of death? His poor heart could not take it. “I do not know what you did to me, sweetheart, but you—” he gulped, his eyes locked on yours, “you have a hold on me that no one else ever did. That no one else ever could.”

He leaned up, his chest heaving against yours. “I cannot help it. I cannot help but be jealous, I cannot help but be protective, possessive... I just can't help it. You have completely bewitched me.”

Your breathing fastened as your heart fluttered wildly in your chest at his words. What did he mean? How was he talking like this? He couldn't love you, you knew that—you were just deeply flawed partners on a mission—but a part of your soul soared at the fact that he harbored these intense, desperate urges for you. Even if it wasn't love, he felt for you with a terrifying depth.

When his large hands moved down to remove your white bra, you reached up and caught his wrists, tsking him with a breathless smirk. “Don't you think you're being a bit unfair, big guy? It's your turn.”

Your hands found his collar, pulling his heavy frame down to your lips. You kissed him deeply, pouring all your hidden, aching feelings into it, while your shaky fingers began working on the unbuttoning of his shirt. Your hands were trembling with excitement and the weight of your feelings for him. When you finally removed your lips from his, you let out a frustrated huff, looking down at the fabric because your frantic fingers couldn't unbutton them fast enough.

Thor just chuckled, a rumbling sound against your chest. He took matters into his own hands, gripping the shirt and casually pulling it over his head with one smooth motion, tossing it blindly across the room.

“Oh fuck... you honestly are a god,” you whispered, taking him in fully. His biceps were literally the size of your head, his pecs perfectly sculpted, his abs defined and casting shadows in the dim light—he was going to be the absolute death of you.

He chuckled again, clearly enjoying your completely awestruck expression, and immediately took it to his advantage. His large hand slid behind your back, and with a single, practiced flick of his fingers, he unclasped your bra in a second.

You gasped in bewilderment, snapping your eyes up to meet his. “You sly fox,” you said, a wicked smirk returning to your lips.

He just held your bra up for a brief second like a captured banner of war, a triumphant smile lighting up his handsome face, before he tossed it away. Turning all of his massive, heavy attention back to you, his mouth immediately latched onto your right breast, his tongue swirling hot against your skin while his large hand slid down past your stomach to find your crotch.

“Ohmygod,” you gasped out in one breath.

His fingers hooked into the edge of your panties, sliding them down your hips before giving a firm, playful slap against your inner thigh. “Get your legs up for me, honey, so I can get these off,” he grunted against your skin. You quickly complied, lifting your hips and helping him slide the remaining lace down your legs until you were completely bared for him.

He let go of your nipple for a second, his large hands sliding down to grip your thighs with an iron hold, settling himself deeply between them again. He spread them wide open, his gaze dropping down to your glistening center. His tongue darted out in anticipation, his eyes dark with an intense, heavy hunger.

“You look so sweet, honey. Bet you taste as sweet as you look, don't you?” he murmured to himself, his deep baritone sending a thrill straight down your spine as he kept his gaze locked between your legs.

You whined in agonizing anticipation, your hips twitching on the mattress. “Do something—oh!”

You were cut off as his thumb pressed hard against your clit, slowly dragging all the way down your slick slit, catching your juices on his skin. He lifted his hand, looking down at his wet thumb before putting it directly between his lips, sucking the moisture off as he closed his eyes.

“Oh, yes you do taste sweet. Better than I ever imagined,” he rumbled, his voice rough. He leaned down and gave your pussy a light, playful slap, the stinging heat making you whine out loud.

“Thooor—”

He hovered back over your body, his mouth immediately returning to suckle hungrily on your right nipple. At the same time, his hand slid back between your thighs, inserting his middle finger deep inside you, quickly followed by his ring finger. His thumb began circling your clit in rhythmic patterns. Your mouth fell agape, your head tossing from side to side as you moaned and moaned, your body beautifully stretched by his incredibly large fingers.

Your hands locked onto his broad shoulders, squeezing tight, the slick friction of his touch rapidly driving you toward the edge, pulling you closer to that blissful, impending high.

“'M close,” you murmured, your eyes completely dazed. You pulled his head closer, biting down on the thick skin of his neck and suckling fiercely, making the god let out a deep, gravelly groan of pleasure.

“You’re driving me insane,” he growled against your skin, his fingers moving faster, driving deep inside your tight heat. “Come on, pretty girl, make a mess on my fingers.”

The pressure kept building and building in your lower stomach until it was entirely unbearable. “I—” you gasped, your toes curling into the sheets. “I’m gonna—”

“Come on, let it go, baby,” he commanded darkly.

And then you snapped. You came hard, whining and moaning loudly as wave after wave of intense pleasure rippled through your core, your walls clamping down violently around his fingers. Thor grunted, keeping his fingers moving through your contractions, forcing every last drop of pleasure out of you until you were breathlessly begging him to stop.

Before you could even catch your breath, Thor shifted. He reached down to his waist, lowering his trousers and boxers in a single, aggressive movement. Because he was already on his knees, the fabric simply bunched up around his knees, freeing his lower half.

Your eyes widened in absolute awe at the sight. He was big. Just as you had thought, but seeing him fully bare made him look even bigger. “Oh god,” you whispered.

Thor gave his length a slow, heavy pump of his hand, precum glistening at the tip as he smeared the moisture down his thick shaft. He looked down at you, his chest heaving.

“Do we need protection? Because I don't have any—” he asked, his voice thick with restraint. “No, we don't,” you said eagerly, you were on the pill.

Pushing yourself up onto your elbows, you looked his naked torso and heavy length over with a predatory hunger. “You’re so fucking handsome it’s annoying, do you know that?” you said, biting your lower lip.

He chuckled, a smug, low sound as he settled his weight back in between your open legs. “Why, thank you, Little Flame—”

Your hand shot out, planting firmly against his massive shoulder. “Can I ride you?” Thor stopped dead in his tracks, his chest heaving, his pupils blown wide. “What?”

“Can I ride you?” you asked again, your voice completely determined.

Taking full advantage of his momentary shock, you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist, using your core to pull him down as you deftly flipped your positions. Within a second, you were sitting squarely on top of his hard stomach. His defined abs twitched beneath you, the movement grazing directly against your freshly sensitive clit, making you take a sharp breath.

“You wanna do all the work, honey?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowing as a lazy, amused smirk tugged at his lips.

“Mhm,” you hummed, your eyes dazed and hooded as you looked down at his towering chest. He chuckled, his large hands rising to rest loosely on your hips. “Are you sure? You are well aware I possess the stamina of a god.”

You rolled your eyes at his typical Asgardian arrogance. “I am aware. Can you just stop talking and—”

“Are you getting on, or not?” he interrupted, his smirk widening as he tilted his hips up just a fraction, the warm tip of his cock brushing against your entrance.

For a split second, the temptation to be difficult returned. “I am definitely reconsidering it now,” you pouted, crossing your arms over your bare chest and throwing him a defiant look.

But Thor just snorted, rolling his eyes at your stubbornness. Before you could even blink, his hands gripped your hips with terrifying strength and he lifted you up. You didn't even get a second to think before he downwardly forced your hips straight onto his thick dick, burying himself inside you all the way to the hilt.

The air was knocked completely from your lungs. Thor was so deep in you it was pushing all the thoughts out of your brain. You gaped down at him, making weak, breathless noises as your pussy pulsed and stretched beautifully around his thickness. His fingers dug deeply into your hips, the only sign that he was struggling to hold himself back from taking over completely.

“Much as I enjoy you trying to take control,” he muttered, his large hands sliding down to massage your ass with a heavy, grounding pressure, “I'd rather keep you full of me so you stop thinking.”

He reached up slowly, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You bit your bottom lip, whining at the unbearable fullness, and he chuckled, settling his upper body fully into the pillows. Your hands found his chest, your fingers grabbing firmly onto his broad pectorals for balance. “Ride it, baby,” he ordered, his voice a low, gravelly command.

And god help you, you tried. You caught your breath after a long moment that felt like an eternity and started to roll your hips. Thor groaned, his heavy eyelids fluttering as your tight heat dragged over his length, but he deliberately didn't help you yet. His hands remained firm on your body, forcing you to use every ounce of your strength to grind down onto his dick.

Your movements accidentally pushed him right against that sensitive, gooey spot inside of you, and you faltered with a long, broken moan. You shifted, forcing his thick head right against it again, and he let out a sharp breath, though he still didn't take the reins. “Uhh—” you whined, your head spinning.

“Feels good, does it not?” he cooed, his cock throbbing heavily inside you. “Nice and big, filling up your pussy so good.”

You moaned, your hips bucking instinctively. Thor grunted, thrusting up just slightly to meet you, and you tipped your head back as a shiver ran down your spine. The friction was incredible. For a second, back arched and thighs aching, you actually managed to find a rhythm. It started slow, rolling and pushing Thor’s cock right where you wanted it.

You looked down at him, sweaty and utterly adoring beneath you. His hands wandered over your skin, his breathing ragged and his lips parted as he watched you take him.

“That's a good girl,” he muttered, his blue eyes blown wide. “There you go, My Star.” He continued, “My beautiful fucking Star, so good for me are you not?”

You keened at the praise, your pace moving faster. Your knees were growing weak from the exertion, but the desperate need inside you was so much stronger. You bounced on Thor’s dick, grabbing at his chest and gasping for air as his sheer size split you open over and over again.

Looking down at his bare chest, his defined pecs looked absolutely delicious in the dim light. You had to take a bite, didn't you? Lowering your upper body flat against his chest, you leaned down and bit down on his left breast, hard. Thor groaned loudly, his abs flexing hard beneath you. “What are you—” he gasped.

You didn't answer, simply licking over the damp mark you had just left before kissing over it mindlessly. Pushing yourself back up, your hands found their place on his heaving chest again, meeting his eyes which were burning with an unhinged desire.

But it wasn't enough. You didn't possess the extra stamina or strength of a god, and he was just too big. You were so overwhelmed by pleasure that your body was starting to forget how to move properly. Every wet, obscene sound echoing in the room made you glance down at where he was disappearing inside of you—the way your slick was heavily coating his cock when you pulled up, and the heavy weight of his balls slapping against your ass every time you dropped back down.

You only got hornier, wanting nothing more than to just let go and allow your eyes to cross and toes to curl, but you couldn't find the pace to get over the edge. You couldn't cum. The frustration built up until pathetic, fat tears started streaming down your cheeks.

”Aw, baby, why are you crying?” Thor murmured, his voice laced with a gentle mockery. Fully aware of the fact that you couldn't reach the finish line by yourself, he reached up, brushing your tears away with his thumb while a tiny, knowing smirk played on his lips.

You let out a frustrated sob, shaking violently above him as your legs finally grew too weak to sustain the weight. You collapsed forward, just squirming uselessly against his lap now, blinking through wet lashes at his teasing, lazy smile. “You can't get there all alone, can you?” he purred, gripping your waist tightly and slamming his hips up into you.

You made a choked, high-pitched sound as the sudden force rattled your entire frame. “That's right, pretty girl. Just a total mess on my cock."

“Ple—please—“ you blubbered, completely spent, your upper body collapsing weakly over Thor’s broad chest. “God, Thor—please—“

“Aw. Begging so pretty.” He leaned up and pressed a tender, lingering kiss to your wet forehead. “How could I ever say no to you, huh?”

Without another word, Thor gripped your hips and effortlessly lifted you off his cock, twisting you onto your back as he sat up. You were shoved down into the mattress, your head pressed deeply into the cushions. His massive hands locked onto your hips, dragging you down the bed toward him, completely manhandling you. His right hand moved to the inside of your left thigh, pushing it wide open to expose your dripping core to the cool air of the room.

“Such a mess,” Thor rumbled, his eyes dark as he ran the thick head of his cock between the lips of your pussy, letting it press heavily against your swollen clit before lining it right back up at your entrance.

He slid in slowly, filling you back up until your eyes rolled back in your head. Bringing his upper body over yours, his left hand found your right leg, pushing it all the way up to your chest. He was impossibly deeper at this angle, stretching you to your absolute limits.

You tried to press your hand over your mouth to muffle your pathetic, undone sounds, but Thor tutted softly. With his left hand, he firmly wrapped his fingers around your wrist and pulled your hand away, pinning it to the mattress. He bottomed out completely, a deep groan ripping from his chest as he bit your earlobe.

His hand found its way to your thigh and kept your legs pinned high next to your breasts as he began to move, his brutal, unyielding pace making you instantly see stars. Every heavy thrust sent a shockwave through your body, your hips bouncing uncontrollably against the mattress.

Thor moved his head back just a little, looking down at where your bodies joined, and grunted in deep, possessive approval. He caught your jaw in his hand, his fingers anchoring you as he fucked you hard. “Want to see how good we fit, pretty girl?”

You couldn't even catch a goddamn breath, but you nodded frantically. He let go of your chin, sliding his hand to the back of your head and gently forcing you to look down at your own lap.

It was sinful. So fucking sinful. A white, creamy ring was forming around his shaft as he ruthlessly fucked into you, and he was so goddamn right—you fit together like perfect puzzle pieces. With every single downward stroke, his heavy pelvis hit directly against your engorged, sensitive clit.

You moaned loudly, your eyebrows knitting together in pure pleasure as the visual pushed you right over the edge unexpectedly. You screamed his name as he let go of your head, his thumb brushing over your trembling lips. He didn't stop, keeping up the relentless, pounding pace, grunting your name over and over against your neck.

“Came after just a few seconds of me fucking you?” he mocked breathlessly, but he was in no better shape than you were. He looked completely disheveled, his hair wild, his jaw locked in a tight line of restraint.

He pushed his damp thumb directly into your mouth, and you blindly suckled on it, wrapping your tongue around his skin.

“Fuck,” he grunted, his blue eyes blowing wide as he finally lost his grip on his godly stamina. His hips gave one last, deep, trembling shove, pinning you flat to the bed as he came, throwing thick, hot ropes of cum deep inside you, filling you to the absolute brim. —

“Are you okay?” he whispered, his lips brushing tenderly against your knuckles.

You were having a near-impossible time keeping your eyes open, the aftershocks of the last hour leaving your limbs feeling like heavy lead, but you managed to nod lazily and offer him a soft, sleepy smile.

Thor took your hand, bringing it up to rest against his bare chest. You frowned, your brow furrowing in confusion. “What’re you doin’?” you mumbled, your exhaustion making your words barely intelligible, slurring together into a sleepy hum.

“Have to take care of you, baby,” he said, his voice so gentle it made your heart ache. He didn't wait for an answer, simply scooping you up into his arms, bridal style. Your arms instinctively circled around his thick neck, and you rested your heavy head against his shoulder as he carried you into the bathroom.

After he helped you clean up with a patience that was entirely uncharacteristic of the man you’d known for years, he carried you back to the bed. He kissed your forehead with lingering reverence as he laid you down, then slid under the covers next to you, pulling you into his embrace until your head was pillowed firmly against his chest.

His heart was beating like a war drum against your ear, his large fingers trembling slightly as he pulled the thin, cool sheets up to tuck you in. He stared at the ceiling, lost in the terrifying shift in his own reality.

Why was he feeling like this? What had happened to the cold, arrogant dynamic you two had shared for so long? The question burned in his mind, sharp and insistent: Did you feel the same?

Unable to hold the mounting anxiety back, he mumbled, “Do you hate me?”

The question came out before he could stop it, brittle and desperate. You stiffened slightly against him, your eyes fluttering open for a brief moment. “I never hated you.”

He hummed, a low vibration in his chest. “Hm.” He shifted, his hand moving to smooth a lock of hair away from your face. “Let me phrase it like this then... do you dislike me still?”

You smiled a little bit, your face scrunching up as you looked up at him hazily, your consciousness drifting further away. You were too exhausted to put up your usual defenses, and you told him half the truth.

“Not so much.”

You leaned forward and kissed his chest without thinking, the action small and intimate, before laying your head back down. His fastened heartbeat drummed in your ears, a frantic, steady rhythm that matched your own.

Thor felt his heart give out as he finally understood what he was feeling.

He was in love with you.

He had been for years, and he was absolutely, completely doomed.

—

You woke up, breathing in deeply as you opened your eyes and stretched your arms. Your eyes widened instantly as the vivid rush of last night’s endeavors hit you.

You slept with Thor.

You quickly looked next to you, your heart ready to leap with hopeful excitement, only to see a completely empty bed. Your heart dropped straight to your stomach. A cold, suffocating weight pressed down on your chest.

Where was he? Did he regret it that much? Did he wake up, realized what he had done with someone as broken as you, and left you all alone the first thing in the morning?

Your hands and feet went completely ice-cold. Your eyes tore up, your nose burning and your throat tightening painfully with incoming tears. Regret. It was the only word screaming in your mind.

You scrambled to your feet, desperately trying to swallow down the sob threatening to break out. Moving on pure autopilot, you quickly started getting ready for breakfast, needing a mask to hide behind. Your hands shook violently as you removed the mascara stains from your cheeks and quickly applied your sunscreen. You pulled on a black strapless summer dress with vibrant pink flowers—it hugged your torso tightly before flaring out beautifully from the waist down. You placed a long-brimmed black summer hat over your hair and slid into black kitten heels. Taking a shaky, shallow breath, you made your way down to the resort’s breakfast area.

The moment you stepped into the restaurant, your blood ran cold. You did not like what you were witnessing. At all.

Thor was there, standing by the open buffet, but he wasn’t alone. There she was—the receptionist girl who had been entirely too into your so-called husband since you arrived. Her hand was resting boldly on his right bicep while he looked down at her, his head turned toward her as he smiled lightly. She was actively flirting with him, and he wasn’t pulling back. Not even after everything he had whispered to you last night. What the hell was a receptionist doing there in the first place?

A dangerous rage built inside you, jealousy brewing hot and toxic, completely melting your insides. You couldn’t help it. Even if Thor didn't want you anymore, even if last night meant nothing to him, nobody was allowed to touch him like that as long as he was playing your husband.

You made your way toward them in fast, sharp strides, the click of your kitten heels masked by the ambient chatter. You stopped directly behind the girl, your index finger tapping her shoulder with an icy firmness.

She quickly turned around, a bright, rehearsed smile on her face, but that smile instantly died the second she registered who was standing there. She was much shorter than you; from beneath the brim of your hat, you were looking down at her with pure, unyielding disdain. A wicked, lethal smile played on your lips—a look that silently screamed, 'You are going to die in ten seconds, and not even the God of Thunder can save you from your demise.'

“My love, you’re awake!” Thor boomed, his face lit up with an instant, radiant brightness the very millisecond his eyes landed on you. You flicked your gaze to him, your chest tight. What a spectacular actor, you thought bitterly.

You looked straight back at the girl. Thor’s eyebrows quickly knitted together as he registered the tension radiating from your posture. “I was just on my way to bring you breakfast—”

“Were you now?” you cut him off, your voice dangerously low, though your eyes never left the receptionist. She was already squirming and trembling under your icy glare.

“I was just—” she stammered, backing up half a step. “You were just leaving,” you cut her off ruthlessly. Then, completely unable to hold yourself back through the blinding haze of your jealousy, you coldly added, “My husband does not have a taste for servants, you know?”

Thor’s eyes widened in sheer shock. You had done the exact one thing you had warned him not to do—you had ignored manners and called her a servant.

The girl nodded frantically, her eyes wide with fear, and immediately scrambled away from Thor, nearly tripping over her own feet to escape you.

The moment she was gone, you turned away from him without giving him a second look. “Baby—” Thor started, his hand reaching out.

“Do not baby me,” you snapped, turning your head back sharply, your eyes flashing with a profound, unyielding coldness that made him freeze.

Thor’s heart dropped straight to his stomach. The sudden, icy wall you had thrown up slapper him in the face so hard he felt your finger prints on his cheek. Did you regret it? Was that what this was? Did you wake up wishing last night had never happened?

“What is going on?” he asked, his voice losing its booming confidence, an edge of panic bleeding through.

You scoffed loudly, completely ignoring his question as you moved toward the stack of plates to grab your own food. You weren't going to stand there and look pathetic. Thor quickly followed on your heels, his massive frame completely blocking out the rest of the crowded restaurant as you aggressively snatched a ceramic plate from the stack. The weight of it felt solid in your shaking fingers—a grounding contrast to the chaos roaring inside your head. He didn't care that there were other guests around; his focus was entirely locked onto you.

“Talk to me, please,” he begged again, his deep voice dropping into a whispered, desperate pitch that only you could hear. “What did I do? Why are you looking at me like that?”

You moved down the line of the open buffet, your eyes fixed forward, your jaw locked tight under the long brim of your black summer hat. You didn't even see the food.

“I look at you exactly how I should look at a partner who fails to maintain the perimeter of our cover,” you whispered coldly, your tone clipped and professional—the ultimate shield to protect your bleeding heart. “We are supposed to be happily married, Thor. Yet I walk into the dining room and find you letting the resort staff treat your bicep like a resting post. It’s sloppy. It risks the mission.”

“The mission?” Thor repeated, and you heard the sharp, pained intake of his breath. He stepped in front of you, completely cutting off your path to the pastry section, forcing you to stop. When you tried to look past him, he leaned down into your line of sight, his blue eyes wide and panicked. “You think I care about the cover right now? Honey, look at me.”

The nickname was a mocking echo of the tenderness from last night. Your eyes snapped up to his, flashing with a dangerous, icy heat. “Do not call me that.”

He felt entirely hopeless, his blue eyes burning with a raw, suffocating pain the more you talked. “Last night—“

“Let's not bring up last night. Ever,” you said, sharply turning your head away from him. You were desperate to protect your heart, to pull the shields up before he could break you completely by saying how much he regretted it.

“What?” he asked, his voice entirely breathless. His lungs felt as though they were constricting in on themselves, a pain burning him from the inside out.

But you didn't answer., you just kept walking, your hands trembling so hard that the ceramic plate in your hands shaked in your grasp. You tried to swallow the thick lump of emotion stuck in your throat, but it wouldn't budge. You loved him, and he regretted you. That was the only reality your brain could process.

You had effectively carved his heart out of his chest and stepped on it with the sharp heel of your shoes, leaving his poor heart to bleed out on the cold floor while you kept thumping it with your foot over and over again. Thor’s head was thumping, his chest feeling completely hollow as he stood frozen, looking at your retreating back. To him, the message was loud and clear: you regretted everything you had given him, while he was deeply, hopelessly in love with you.

The rest of the breakfast passed by in a torturously. You didn't speak a single word to him, and he didn't dare speak to you, far too heartbroken to even think of where to begin mending the fracture. You both just sat there at the table in a heavy, complete silence. Thor spent the entire time staring down at his large, empty hands, while you kept your eyes rigidly fixed on your plate.

After breakfast, you returned to the villa to change for the pool, pulling on a black bikini and a sheer black beach dress. You kept the long-brimmed hat firmly on your head, using it as a barrier to keep yourself from looking at him, and to keep him from looking at you to see your pained expression.

Once down at the resort pool, you settled onto your sunbed for a second before immediately scrambling away to the water, needing to escape his suffocating proximity. Your body tensed up at the first splash, but slowly relaxed as your skin got used to the cold.

It's okay, your mind echoed in a desperate chant, trying to soothe your aching heart. You already got the codes. You can get this entire mission over with tonight, and then you won't ever have to sleep in the same room with him again.

From his sunbed, Thor was watching you like a hawk. He lay there with his massive arms crossed behind his head, his jaw locked so tight the muscles in his cheek flexed repeatedly. His hands were formed into rigid fists, the static electricity in his veins making the air around his chair turn faintly heavy.

Then, the tense silence was abruptly interrupted by a woman's voice coming from next to him. “Hello there, handsome.” She was sitting on a sunbed just one row away, looking to be in her late forties with short, styled blonde hair and a sly, predatory smirk on her face.

Thor didn't even turn his torso. He just spared a brief, icy sideway glance at her before immediately snapping his eyes back to the water, tracking your swimming. “Why are you all alone?” she purred, leaning forward to get his attention. “Your spouse left you to fend for yourself like mine did?” Thor finally turned his head fully away from the pool for a brief second. “I am completely fine. Thank you for your concerns, lady,” he grumbled clearly irritated, his baritone rough and entirely uninviting.

He dismissed her instantly, turning back to look toward the deep end of the pool—only to find you staring straight back at him with a lethal, blinding fire burning hot in your eyes.

He gulped, his breath taken away.

—

After your day in the pool ended and you were back in your villa, the silence between you had grown so heavier. You finally broke it, “I am going to secure the tech tonight.” Thor's back visibly stiffened at the sound of your voice. He turned to face you slowly, his blue eyes guarded. “What do you need me to do?” he asked, his voice rough and gravelly.

You gulped, forcing your professional mask back into place. “Distract Alejandro in the VIP section while I slip away. I'll pretend to go to the bathroom, access the private vault down the hall, and once I have the drive, I'll signal you through the comms so we can leave.” He nodded briefly, his jaw flexing. “Okay,” he whispered.

The process of getting ready was done in a tense, rhythmic quiet. Thor threw on a black linen shirt and charcoal linen pants, looking effortlessly devastating. You opted for a flowy, lightweight black dress that gave you maximum mobility, pairing it with flat, elegant leather sandals—you needed to be comfortable and silent on your feet tonight.

You headed down to dinner, the atmosphere of the resort's high-end restaurant buzzing around you while you sat like ghosts. You tried to eat whatever your stomach would allow, but you had absolutely no appetite after the events of the day. Every time your eyes accidentally met his, you both looked away, shielding your wounds. Once dinner was cleared, it was time. You made your way toward the exclusive VIP lounge, immediately spotting Alejandro lounging in a velvet booth surrounded by bodyguards. You and Thor exchanged a quick, imperceptible glance, checked the small clicks of your earpieces, and nodded.

Alejandro boomed with laughter the moment he saw you approach. “My friends! Welcome, welcome!” he cried, throwing his arms wide open in his usual boisterous display.

You both forced tight, practiced smiles onto your faces. Thor stepped forward, giving the man a brief, friendly hug before turning toward the booth to sit down. Before you could even slide onto the leather cushion next to him, Thor’s large hand securely gripped your waist. Your heart instantly went completely haywire as he effortlessly lifted you and pulled you right down onto his lap.

You two had been distant all day. He had to hold you. He needed to make amends, to feel the heat of your skin against his, even if it was just under the guise of the mission. At least, that was the only excuse his desperate mind could construct if you angrly yelled at him about it later.

You smiled tightly for Alejandro's benefit, but your fingers dug with an icy, warning firmness into the back of Thor's thick neck—a silent, furious message for him to let go. But Thor didn't care. He didn't care about the silent threat as long as he got to hold you in his arms for just a second longer before this mission ended and you went back to the compound to avoid him forever. He simply tightened his grip, pulling you flush against his chest, and smiled widely at Alejandro.

Alejandro chuckled deeply at the display of affection. “Always passionate, I see.”

You turned a sickly sweet smile toward the arms dealer, leaning into the cover. “Always,” you cooed, before casually looking around the lounge. “Where is Valentin tonight?” You instantly felt Thor's fingers dig sharply into your waist, his grip turning possessive at the mention of the man he had been burning with jealousy over. Alejandro made a dismissive, ‘don't care’ gesture with his hand. “Ah, he claims he is sick. Staying in his villa tonight.”

“Oh, poor guy,” you purred, feigning deep sympathy. “I hope he gets better soon.” Thor’s fingers dug even deeper into your hip bone, a silent, growling protest that you had to actively ignore.

You endured another twenty minutes of Alejandro’s endless boasting, monitoring the guard rotation out of the corner of your eye. Finally, the hallway leading to the back offices cleared. You lightly tapped Thor’s broad shoulder, signaling him that it was time. "I need to go to the restroom, honey," you said loudly enough for the table to hear, sliding off his lap.

He didn't protest, maintaining his role, but his blue eyes burned holes straight through your frame as you walked away. The moment you turned the corner out of the lounge's line of sight, the sweet smile vanished from your face. Your heart rate spiked, breathing sharpening as you slipped into the dim, restricted corridor. Using the digital master key you had covertly cloned from the resort's mainframe, you bypassed the electronic lock on Alejandro's private office in three seconds flat. The door clicked open with a faint hiss. You slipped inside, closing it silently behind you.

The room was dark, illuminated only by the ambient glow of the resort's outdoor lights filtering through the blinds. You moved like a shadow across the plush carpet, heading straight for the ornate bookshelf on the far wall. Pressing the hidden release mechanism behind a heavy brass statue, the wall ground open to reveal a reinforced titanium safe. Your fingers flew across the keypad, inputting the encryption codes you had painfully secured earlier in the week. BEEP. The safe's heavy bolts retracted. You quickly dismanntled the failsafe and looked inside the safe.

There, resting on a velvet cushion, was a glowing, intricately carved container pulsing with a faint, dark energy—the stolen Dark Elf convergence technology. Beside it lay the encrypted flash drive containing the buyers' manifests. Your breath hitched. This was it. The culmination of hours of putting up with Thor, hours of hiding your heart, hours of surviving. You carefully wrapped the artifact in a specialized containment cloth to mask its energy signature, slipping it and the drive into the secure inner pocket of your dress.

You locked the safe, closed the hidden door, and stepped back out into the hallway, your heart hammering against your ribs. Pressing your finger to your earpiece, “Package secured. Perimeter clear. Let's mo—“ you were cut off as a heavy, sweating hand clamped brutally over your mouth from behind, and the cold steel of a gun barrel pressed hard into the side of your head. Fuck.

Back in the VIP lounge, Thor’s earpiece crackled with your voice. The sound instantly soothed his aching heart, but the relief didn't last long. You were cut off mid-word, your voice muffled into a sharp static gasp. His heart dropped straight to his stomach, cold dread instantly replacing his focus. What the fuck?

He smoothly stood up, cutting Alejandro off mid-sentence with a firm, booming laugh as he patted the man's shoulder, masking the terror roaring in his veins. "It has been an absolute pleasure, Alejandro, but my wife has been feeling quite fatigued from our travels. I must take her back to our quarters," Thor said, his tone leaving absolutely no room for argument. Before Alejandro could even protest, Thor was already walking away, his long strides carrying him down the corridor. “Little Flame? What is happening?” he whispered franticallyy into his comms, his hands trembling with a mix of fear and rising fury.

You didn't respond. The silence on the other end drove him to the edge. The second he stepped into the shadow of the back hallway, out of sight of the guests, he raised his hand. With a crackle, Stormbreaker materialized into his grip, the blue sparks already dancing along the heavy blade.

“So you were here to get to this, all along?” came Valentin's sharp, bitter voice from behind you. Thor's voice crackled instantly in your ear, low and lethal. “Is it him?” Bound by the hand over your mouth, you could only press a tight, affirmative hum into the microphone.

Valentin spoke again, his grip tightening. "The only reason why you were interested in me?" He sounded entirely wrecked, like he couldn't believe his own ego had been brokenby a spy. You gulped, trying to calculate your leverage. Sensing your shift, he cautiously removed his hand from your mouth to let you speak, keeping the gun digging into your temple. “Valentin, calm dow—“ CRACK. He ruthlessly smacked the heavy side of the gun against the side of your head. The force made your head snap to the side, a low, painful grunt ripping from your throat as your vision blurred for a split second. This motherfucker.

“Did he just fucking hit you?” came Thor's roaring voice through the comms, the nger in his tone vibrating so hard it rattled your earpiece. You quickly let out another hum, trying to mask it as a groan of lingering pain so that Valentin wouldn't realize you were on an active channel. “Are you still in the same spot?” Thor demanded, his footsteps shaking the building as he sprinted toward your coordinates. This fucker had absolutely no chance. He was dying tonight.

You hummed again in confirmation, which only served to irritate Valentin further. He grabbed your chin, turning your face toward him, forcing you to look into his wild, unhinged eyes. A crazy, desperate smile spread across his face. “I think you should give me a kiss before you go,” he whispered darkly. He closed his eyes, leaning his face directly into yours. Big mistake.

The second his eyes shut, your training took over. You threw your head back, violently slamming the crown of your skull against his nose. He staggered back with a curse, and you used the momentum to drive a sharp elbow directly into his ribs, successfully hitting the gun away from your head. You spun, sweeping your leg out to take his ankles, but Valentin was fueled by pure adrenaline; he managed to catch his balance, his face twisting in fury as he lunged forward. He slammed you back against the wall, his hand locking tightly around your neck, and pointed the gun straight at your head from the front, yelling directly into your face.

But before he could even pull the trigger—before he could do anything at all—the gun in his hand was struck by a massive, flying axe. Stormbreaker sheared the weapon completely in half, embedding itself deep into the wall with a deafening thud. “I told you to stay away from her, did I not?”

And then came hell. Thor burst through the doorway, a literal storm rolling in behind him. He didn't even use his weapon. He descended on Valentin like an enraged deity, reaching out and grabbing the man by the collar of his expensive suit. “No—“ Valentin scrambled, his face draining of all color as he looked up into the face of a god.

“You hit her, and you tried to kiss her?” Thor rumbled, his voice shaking the light fixtures above. “You are in big trouble, boy.”

With a display of raw strength, Thor hoisted him completely off the floor and slammed him ruthlessly against the concrete wall. Thor's eyes completely turned into a blinding, static blue, the white-hot electricity arcing across his shoulders and down his arms. Valentin desperately pleaded for his life, gasping for air, but Thor was entirely deaf to it.

You slid down to the floor, clutching your throbbing head, watching the entire scene unfold in awe. Thor grabbed Valentin by the neck, lifting him higher, and delivered two brutal, bone-crushing punches straight to his jaw. Then, with a dark, final grunt of fury, he let the lightning loose. A massive burst of pure electricity fried Valentin instantly, dropping his lifeless body to the floor in a smoking heap. Oops.

The room went quiet, save for the faint hum of residual static. Thor immediately spun around, the terrifying god of war instantly vanishing the moment his eyes landed on you. He rushed to his knees at your side, his large hand gently but firmly holding your jaw, tilting your head up to assess the dark bruising swelling near your temple.

You tried to pull away slightly, the intensity of his focus making your chest tighten. “I'm fine,” you muttered. But your heart was beating erratically in your chest, completely overwhelmed by the unhinged protectiveness he had just shown. He had literally killed a man for putting a hand on you. He was fussing over you like you were the most precious thing in the universe. Was he really the same guy you thought regretted everything this morning?

Seeing the deep, pained expression of guilt and fear swirling in his blue eyes, you let out a soft sigh, your voice softening. “I heal fast, remember?” Thor cleared his throat, his thumb lingering against your jaw for one more second before he reluctantly nodded and let you go.

He helped you up and you both quickly slipped out of the room, heading out into the humid night air. You sprinted back to the villa, throwing your clothes into your luggage in a silent rush, before moving stealthily toward the designated extraction point in the cliffs. Once outside in the dark, Thor held Stormbreaker high into the sky, the Bifrost roaring down in a blinding beam of rainbow light, swallowing you both whole.

—

It has been two days since you came back, and you and Thor were completely ignoring each other. It was obvious to everyone else in the compound; it was the exact polar opposite of what you guys were always like. Normally, you kept riling each other up because you secretly loved it. You yelled at each other, threatened each other daily, but you were always together, attached at the hip like some dysfunctional shadow.

Now? He let you have your morning coffee without a single fuss. You let him be whenever he talked like the booming Asgardian he is, not even bothering to roll your eyes. You weren't even in the same room unless it was absolutely necessary to begin with; either you or Thor would leave the second the other walked in. It was an undeniable fact that youwere both desperately staying away from each other.

And you missed him. You missed the way he riled you up, missed the way he smiled down at you with that smug but inexplicably sweet expression on his face... you missed him so much it hurt your very soul. Natasha had quietly asked about it, Tony made a few mocking jokes, Steve only silently analyzed you two with a furrowed brow, and Scott? Well, Scott wasn't really aware of anything going on. But Rocket had literally yelled, “Why the hell are you two not fighting?!” at the both of you in the kitchen yesterday. You had only turned and left the room without a word, while Thor merely grunted, staring miserably into his mug as he sipped his coffee.

You had mandatory team training today. Eager to avoid any confrontation, you woke up at 5:00 AM just to have your coffee and breakfast completely away from him and everyone else, before retreating straight back to your room to get ready into your tight, black gear.

Thor woke up a few hours later and had his coffee as usual, but it felt entirely tasteless without the usual, fiery fight he had with you over who got to pour the first cup. Fuck, he missed you. He missed you so much he felt it aching deep in his bones, his heart, his lungs—everywhere. He hated this distance. He hated the silence.

He quickly made his way down to the training area, his intense blue eyes scanning the perimeter the second he stepped foot on the grass, instantly searching for you. And there you were near the equipment mats, talking to Steve with a quiet familiarity, just like you had been doing for the last two days. The sight of you leaning in slightly to hear what the captain was saying made rage build inside Thor's chest. The static in his veins flared, his jaw locking hard as his fists clenched at his sides.

It cannot be, his mind echoed fiercely, a desperate attempt to talk himself down. You are getting jealous over nothing. He is merely her teammate. But as he watched Steve laugh at something you said, Thor's chest hollowed out with that same burning, possessive fire that had consumed him before. He turned his head away, staring out across the vast, sun-drenched gardens of the compound, trying to force his breathing to steady. He was clearly out of his mind. He was a god, for kingdoms' sake, yet he was ready to throw down with the Captain over a simple conversation.

Meanwhile, out on the grass near the training mats, you and Steve were actually talking about the exact elephant in the room. “Tell me, doll, what happened with you two?” Steve asked, his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze shifting between you and the brooding god standing fifty yards away by the glass doors. “Nothing” you said immediately, adjusting the tracking straps on your wrists, trying to deflect. “It's obvious, you know? Don't bother lying.” Steve’s voice was gentle, but persistent.

You looked down at your combat boots, the weight of the secret pressing too heavily on your chest. Looking around to ensure no one else was in earshot, you finally whispered, “We slept together, Steve.” Steve's eyebrows furrowed in deep, pure confusion. “Okay... I know you don't exactly like the guy, but sleeping in the same bed couldn't have caused this much of a disaster—“ You snapped your head up and rolled your eyes, letting out a heavy sigh. Idiots. The whole lot of them were pure idiots. “Steve. Not like that,” you said, slapping your hand against your forehead. He had completely dismissed the actual option because his straight-laced brain simply couldn't believe it.

“What do you mean?” he asked again, completely lost.

You huffed, crossing your arms tightly. “We had sex.”

Steve’s eyes widened to the size of saucers, his arms instantly uncrossing as his brain short-circuited. “You—“ he pointed a finger at you, then pointed vaguely in Thor's direction. “Thor—“ he stammered, blubbering out in total confusion, it was very uncharacteristic of him you admit.

“Yes,” you cut him off, wanting to get the bandage ripped off. “And he regrets it, but me? I'm completely in love with him. Yay!” you said sarcastically, clapping your hands together in a mocking, bitter celebration.

Steve stood there in pure shock. You had never seen the Captain America look so entirely stunned, but then, something passed through his eyes. It was like a veil had been lifted, an entire timeline of events rewriting itself in his mind. “That's why you guys were always together,” he said, realization dawning on him. “You two are completely in love—“

“Whoa! Hold your horses,” you interrupted, your face heating up under the morning sun. “I am the one who's in love. Not him. He couldn't wait to escape the bed the next morning—“

“He is definitely in love with you—“ Steve started to counter, his voice laced with the certainty of a man who had been watching Thor pine from the sidelines for years. But whatever wisdom he was about to drop was loudly cut off by Tony’s voice echoing across the lawn through a megaphone. “We're all here, folks, let's get started! Cap, stop flirting with Shadow, goldilocks looks like he's about to blast you with lightning!” Tony yelled, gesturing toward the center of the field.

You stiffened, your eyes instinctively darting over to Thor, who was already marching onto the grass, his expression promising devastation for whoever had to spar with him today.

Your heart fastened at the sight of him, your eyes darting over his heavy frame, completely unable to control the sudden spike in your pulse. Steve grumbled something under his breath about Tony being incredibly annoying as he stood up and offered you a hand. You took his hand and got up, brushing the grass off your tight athletic pants.

Suddenly, a faint rumble of thunder vibrated through the ground. You paused, your eyebrows furrowing as you looked up at the sky, only to see bright, uninterrupted sunshine. Your eyebrows furrowed deeper. Okay... were you actually going insane?

“Did you hear that?” Steve asked quietly, looking over at you. You nodded, relieved that you weren't the only one losing your mind. But then Steve’s lips twitched into a knowing, subtle smirk. “Not in love with you, you said?” he murmured, giving you a pointed look before he turned and walked toward the center of the lawn.

You stood frozen in place for two more seconds, processing his words, before forcing your feet to move toward the rest of the team. Thor, Steve, Tony, Bruce, Scott, Nat, Clint, and even Rocket—everyone was gathered on the grass.

“Alright, listen up, children,” Tony announced, clapping his hands together. “Today we're doing partner drills. Mixed combat.” Rocket immediately hopped forward, pointing a tiny, clawed finger at you. “Pair me with Shadow! I wanna be her badass partner!”

“Why does this bunny keep yelling?” Tony muttered, rubbing his temples before looking down at the raccoon and pointing a dramatic finger across the yard. “No! Look at pointbreak over there!” He gestured toward Thor, who was standing like a dark, towering statue of menace, the grass practically singeing beneath his boots. “He's going to be her partner or we're all getting barbecued today!”

Your expression soured instantly. Okay, what the hell? Did everyone switch sides? Tony knew Thor despised you so why would he try to pair you up with him? Rocket turned his head to look at Thor, blinked at the glare the god was throwing his way, and made a startled, defensive expression. “Okay, yeah, you're right.” But then Rocket snapped his head back to Tony, baring his teeth. “I'm not a fucking bunny!”

Steve immediately interrupted, his captain instincts kicking in. “Rocket, language!” You rolled your eyes heavily. “Really, Steve?”

“Grandpa,” Tony muttered in agreement, rolling his eyes. “Alright, let's start.”

Your partner was Thor, as Tony had so graciously assigned, and standing across from you on the mats was Steve paired up with Bruce. The strategy was obvious—Bruce was meant to keep Thor occupied. The second the starting signal was given, Hulk lunged straight at Thor.

While Thor was engaged, his massive fists trading heavy blows with the green giant, he kept looking sideways at you. He was completely distracted by how easily you and Steve had slid into perfect synchronization. His blood burned hot in his veins. Focus, his mind echoed fiercely, but every time he saw Steve catch your arm to fling you into a high kick, his vision swam with red. With a roar of frustration, Thor drove a massive punch straight into the Hulk's jaw, sending the massive beast stumbling back a few heavy steps.

Meanwhile, you and Steve were moving seamlessly. You ducked low under Steve's arm, using his shoulder as leverage to drive a brutal spin-kick directly into his abdomen but he caught your foot smiling at you. You retreated yoou foot, vaulted off the ground, twisting mid-air to deliver a kick. But something that shouldn't have happened, happened. As you came down, Steve extended a hand, catching you firmly by the waist to stabilize your landing.

The moment Steve’s hands locked onto your waist, the sky changed. Thick, dark storm clouds suddenly swirled over the compound out of nowhere, completely blocking the sun in a matter of seconds. A massive, deafening rumble of thunder crashed directly overhead, accompanied by a simple, gravelly growl, “No.”

You blinked, looking over just in time to see Thor completely abandon his fight with the Hulk, turning his back on the training exercise entirely as he marched straight toward you.

“No,” he simply repeated, his face a mask of pure fury. Before you or Steve could even register what was happening, Thor reached out, his hands wrapping around your upper arms, and yanked you away from Steve, pulling you flush against his chest.

Your eyes narrowed into lethal slits, the physical contact setting your nerves on fire. “What the hell do you think you're doing?”

“I am removing you from Steve's arms,” he stated matter-of-factly, his chest heaving heavily against your back, his deep voice carrying a possessive finality.

Every single eye on the field was instantly focused on the two of you. The entire team stood frozen in pure shock—except for Steve. Steve would have been shocked too, if he hadn't just heard your confession three minutes prior.

“Thor, calm down,” Steve said evenly, raising his hands in a placating gesture.

But Thor snapped his head up, his blue eyes blazing with static electricity. “Do not talk, Steve,” he threatened, a rumble vibrating from his throat. Absolute displeasure and violence radiated off his massive frame.

“Don't,” you hissed, struggling fiercely against his iron grip, trying to wrench your arms free. “Don't you dare try to act all possessive now, when you are the one who regrets everything—“

“Regret?” Thor asked, the word cutting through his anger as he stopped, staring down at you. “Me?”

Then, to your utter fury, he let out a dark, breathless chuckle. “You are a hypocrite, Little Flame.”

Natasha took one look at the amount of tension and immediately turned to the rest of the team. “I think we should give them space.” Tony didn't even glance away, his eyes wide as he actively enjoyed the spectacle. It was like he was watching his absolute favorite primetime drama play out live. “Why? We're all outdoors. Shouldn't they be the ones to go inside for privac—“

“Tony,” Natasha said warning him.

“Okay, alright,” Tony caved, raising his hands.

He and the rest of the team quickly retreated toward the compound, but even Natasha couldn't help herself; the second they got inside, the entire lineup of Avengers pressed themselves against the glass doors, watching the drama unfold through the windows.

“What is that supposed to mean?” You countered fiercely, turning fully in his grip to face him, your chest heaving.

“You are the one who regrets everything! Flirting with Steve the second you came back—“

“Excuse me? We were not flirting!” you yelled back, chuckling in pure, broken frustration as you looked away for a split second before snapping your eyes back to his burning gaze. “We were talking, like friends do! Hold on—you don't get to question me on that, seeing as you were clearly comfortable flirting with her!”

Thor huffed, his eyebrows furrowing in genuine confusion. “Who have I flirted with?!”

“Don't play dumb now, Thor! THE RECEPTIONIST!” you screamed, the weight of the last forty-eight hours finally breaking through your defenses. Tears of hot, angry frustration built up rapidly in your eyes, blurring your vision as your voice cracked. “You left me the second the sun rose! You left the bed completely empty! And then you proceeded to go and flirt with her!”

“I was not flirting with her!” he bellowed, the desperation in his voice cracking through the thunder rolling above. “I woke up early because I wanted to surprise you,” he insisted, completely ignoring the venom dripping from your words. “You were sleeping so deeply... you looked so peaceful, and I did not want to wake you. I went down there specifically to get your favorite fruits and coffee to bring back to our quarters. That girl—she just approached me. I did not even hear a word she said, I swear it to you by the All-Father! I was only thinking of you.”

You scoffed, a broken, trembling sound. “And the smiling?” you challenged, your voice shaking despite your best efforts to keep your shields up. “You looked down at her and smiled, Thor. I saw you.”

He shook his head frantically, his massive hands twitching as if he desperately wanted to grab you but feared pushing you further away. “I was smiling because I was happy!” he burst out, his massive chest heaving under his athletic shirt. “I was thinking about how you looked in my arms. I was thinking about what you told me before you slept. I was happy because of you, Little Flame. Not her. Never her.”

You stared up at him, your breath hitching sharply in your throat. He sounded so painfully sincere, so desperately eager to clear his name, but the cold dread of your own insecurities was still screaming in the back of your mind.

“You left the bed empty,” you whispered, your professional facade completely shattering as your voice cracked, exposing the raw, bleeding core of your heart. “You weren't there when I woke up.”

Thor froze. His eyebrows knitted together tightly as the realization of what you had been torturing yourself with finally dawned on his mind. His heart dropped straight to his stomach, a weight crushing him as he realized the terror and abandonment he had accidentally put you through.

“Oh, gods,” he breathed, his fierce, possessive expression melting into pure heartbreak. His voice cracked with emotion. “You thought I regretted it? You thought I left you?”

You looked away, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze. “You—“ You tried to speak, but a small, pathetic sniffle escaped you instead. The sound made Thor take a sharp, painful intake of breath. Moving instantly, his large hand came up, his fingers gently but firmly holding your chin to force your face back up so you had to look at him.

“I do not regret it. I could never regret it,” he said, his blue eyes swimming with a matching pain as he looked down at your tear-stained face.

You sniffled again, looking up at him through wet lashes. Your heart was beating frantically against your ribs, a spark of dangerous, beautiful hope flaring to life in your chest. Taking a breath, you asked something you never, in a million years, thought you would ever ask the arrogant god.

“Do you like me?” you whispered, your small hand coming up to hold the thick wrist of the arm holding your chin.

Thor's face immediately scrunched up into a deeply offended, dismissive expression. “Not so much.”

Your heart instantly dropped straight to your stomach, the rejection freezing your blood. “But you—“

Before you could finish the sentence, Thor reached out and grabbed your cheeks with both of his massive hands, tilting your head up as he brought his mouth down on yours. He kissed you deeply, passionately, a bruising, breathless possession that completely wiped all thoughts from your brain. When he finally pulled back just a fraction, his thumbs wiping the fresh tears from your cheeks, he continued his sentence.

“I do not like you. I am completely and utterly in love with you,” he confessed, the words hitting you right in the center of your chest.

A startled, watery laugh bubbled out of your throat. “You dumbass,” you chuckled, your hands moving to grip his forearms as a massive, radiant smile finally broke across your face. “Why would you word it like that?” Thor didn't care about his poor phrasing; his eyes were boring into yours with an intense, desperate seriousness. “Do you?” he asked, looking down at you with adoration.

"Do I what?"

“Regret it,”

“I don't,” you said, shaking your head without a single second of hesitation. “Why would I, when you are the man I am completely in love with?” you whispered, finally letting the confession pass your lips.

Thor’s blue eyes lit up like a blinding flash of lightning. A breathtaking smile split his handsome face, and without waiting another syllable, he slammed his lips back onto yours, kissing you with a ferocious, joyful hunger.

“I do not know what is wrong with me, Little Flame,” he mumbled against your lips between deep, bruising kisses. “I do not know how I did not realize sooner how pathetically in love I am with you.” His large hands slid down from your face, wrapping firmly around your waist and lifting you slightly off the grass to deepen the kiss, completely forgetting they were standing in the middle of a compound training field.

Inside the building, behind the massive glass doors, the entire lineup of Avengers was pressed flat against the window. Tony was rooted completely in place, his mouth agape, his hands raised in bewilderment. “Are you guys seeing what I am seeing, or am I hallucinating? Is Pointbreak currently kissing Shadow?”Natasha stood next to him, a triumphant, knowing smirk spreading across her lips as she crossed her arms. “About damn time.”

Outside, Thor kept kissing you thoroughly, but suddenly, he pulled his face away by a mere inch. Your eyebrows knitted together in immediate irritation at the loss of contact. “What is it?” You asked. Thor hesitated, his jaw flexing as he muttered just one word, the lingering jealousy still clear in his tone: “Steve?”

You rolled your eyes, letting out a breathless laugh as you locked your hands behind his neck and pulled his head right back down to your lips. “Don't piss me off while I'm kissing you,” you murmured against his mouth.

Thor let out a low, vibrating hum of pure compliance against your lips. “You are right, I’m sorry, I love you,” he mumbled onto your mouth, his grip on your waist tightening as he buried his face back into yours.

—

Masterlist

Taglist: @sinceimetyou @awkwardgiraffe726 @midasgard @mediocre-introvert @gurlidkiread @claytaysversion @landocat

[sinceimetyou]

"Gloomy" I SWEAR THIS MAN AND HIS WAY TO RUIN THINGS 🫠🫠🫠

Aaahh, it was EXCELLENT! 😁

Took me a lot to read and post but here I am only to say the obvious, hahaha

The amount of details are incredible and I liked that he had to humble down himself after he saw the scars and to know her story. He went into protective mode in an instant!

Also, I loved when he's telling how they (he) fell in love with such 😍 and then they proceeded to eat their faces, hahaha. 🤣🤣

Magnificent, your my top Thor writer! 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

[smgespn]

Ahh, thank you for reading my beloved readerrrr!!❤️

[smgespn]

Reply to this post if you’d like to be tagged on my Thor stories in general! 💕

Check out my Masterlist

[smgespn]

Not So Much

Masterlist

Pairing: Thor Odinson X Reader

Summary: He was your teammate but also the person you disliked the most in the universe. He was always loud, he thrived on impulsive decisions, and he loved annoying you. You were the opposite, you moved through shadows quietly, analyzed every move before you made them. And now? They were sending you on a mission with him. Just the two of you. As husband and wife.

Content: Fake Marriage, Enemies To Lovers, Forced Proximity, Yearning, Tension, Slow Burn, Angst, Infinity War-Endgame Thor, King Thor, Protective Thor, Jealous Thor, Possessive Thor, Jealous Reader, They Are Touching Each Other Every Chance They Get, Bickering Final Boss, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Explicit SMUT (It starts from '—', and ends with it so you can skip it if you want)

Word Count: 40k

Note: I live for annoying but sweet Thor 😭 His most dominant personality traits i swear and the way he gets angry FAST😛 My mannn fr (took me a whole month to write this, not proofread sorry for any typos or mistakes)

Minors Do Not Interact

—

You wanted to kill him.

You wanted, with every fiber of your being, to wrap your hands around his thick, infuriating neck and choke the life out of him right there on the polished marble floor of the Avengers Compound kitchen. It was a beautiful, violent fantasy that played in your mind in vivid detail—but unfortunately for you, the man was a damn god, and your fingers would probably snap before his airway even constricted.

“I said no, Thor. I got here first,” you hissed, your voice a sharp, venomous whisper as you slammed your shoulder into his side, trying to forcefully shove his massive frame away from the espresso machine.

The sleek chrome appliance sat on the counter like a holy grail, reflecting the harsh morning light. At this ungodly hour, that single machine was the only thing bonding your soul to the realm of the living. You just loved your morning coffee too much. It was the one ritual that made your life feel somewhat normal. And he, as always, was standing squarely in the way—demanding, with all the unearned arrogance of Asgardian royalty, that he be the first one to use it.

“Stop pushing me away, will you? It does nothing but tickle me, Little Flame,” he grumbled, a deep sound that came from somewhere deep in his broad chest.

He didn't even look at you, his eyes fixed on the digital screen of the machine as his large hands came down to carelessly pry your fingers off his waist. Your eyes narrowed into lethal slits, the heat rising in your cheeks at the sound of the ridiculous nickname and the casual condescension dripping from his tone.

“I have been telling you for years, Thor, stop calling me that,” you snapped, pulling your hands back and crossing them over your chest in a furious, protective stance. “And what is that supposed to mean? Are you implying that I’m weak?”

Thor finally turned his head, his short, textured blonde hair catching the fluorescent lights. A lazy, incredibly punchable smirk broke across his handsome face. He held his massive, heavily muscled arm out horizontally, creating an unbreakable physical barrier that completely blocked you from reaching the coffee pods.

“Why? I think it rather suits you. Feisty little—”

Before he could finish the sentence, you slapped his forearm with a loud, resounding smack, grabbing his wrist with both hands and pulling down with all your weight, trying to rip his arm away from the machine. It was like trying to move a mountain with a piece of string.

“Weaker than me, surely,” he said, his smirk widening as he easily kept his arm locked in place against your full-body strain.

Okay, fine. He was stating a cold, unyielding fact. He was a cosmic entity. He was objectively, biologically stronger than you. Your cell structure had been locked in a permanent, un-aging loop by a rogue lab experiment, giving you endless youth and an unbreakable healing factor—not the brute strength to wrestle the God of Thunder. But you would rather walk barefoot on needles than ever admit his physical superiority to his face.

“What are you two bickering about again?”

Natasha’s exhausted, monotone voice sliced through the tension. She walked into the kitchen, holding an empty mug, her green eyes fixed on the two of you with the heavy, soul-deep weariness of a woman who was entirely done with you being at each other's throats every five minutes.

That was the true tragedy of your existence. Outside the reinforced walls of this compound, Thor was a global icon. He was the golden savior, a benevolent, charming god who was nice to every single human being he encountered. If you went to the press and told them how much he absolutely loved to torment, provoke, and annoy you on a daily basis, not a single soul on Earth would believe you. To the rest of the universe, he was a god. To you, he was a giant, golden-retriever-brained nuisance.

Your left eye literally twitched with fury as you whipped your head around to face Nat. “He’s being a child again!”

“I am only in need of my morning beverage—” Thor protested smoothly.

“I got here first!” You spun back toward him, throwing your hands up in the air, your eyes wide with erratic anger.

“And I will be drinking my coffee, first,” he replied with a smug tilt of his chin.

Before you could lunge forward to block him, his large fingers immediately darted past your face and pushed the start button. The machine whirred to life, a dark stream of espresso pouring directly into the ceramic cup you had painstakingly selected and placed there a minute ago.

Thor watched the liquid fill the mug, leaning his hip against the counter as he grabbed the handle. “See? Easy as that,” he mumbled, grinning straight into the steam as he took a slow, loud, deliberate sip right in front of your face.

Your face went a furious, burning red. Your breath hitched, your vision blurring with a wave of pure, chaotic rage. You wanted to grab that hot mug straight out of his hand and throw the boiling liquid right over his clean grey t-shirt. You wanted to watch the stain spread across his chest while you laughed in his face.

Honestly? That was a damn good idea. Your muscles coiled, your fingers twitching as you prepared to lunge at him and commit a felony.

But just as your sneakers gripped the tile, Natasha let out a sharp, interrupting sigh. “The team is waiting for you in the briefing room,” she said, turning on her heel and gesturing toward the sliding glass doors of the hallway. “Let’s go, lovebirds.”

The words cut through the kitchen like a sudden frost. You and Thor both froze instantly, the childish hostility evaporating into a stunned, icy paralysis.

“What?” you said in perfect unison. The word tore from your throats at the exact same second, your voices blending together as you both whipped your heads around to look at Natasha. But she didn't stop to explain—she simply walked down the corridor toward the war room, a wicked, knowing smirk playing on the corner of her lips as she left the two of you standing in the quiet kitchen, completely blindsided by the ominous weight of her words.

“Fucking weirdos everywhere,” you grumbled under your breath.

Before he could even swallow his next stolen sip, you forcefully jammed your palms right into the center of his chest. You used every single ounce of strength your muscles could muster up, throwing your entire body weight into the strike. You needed that damn coffee, and you would get that damn coffee.

Thor actually stumbled back a step, a booming chuckle ripping from his throat at the absolute volatility of your expression. You were completely furious. He honestly had no idea why annoying you brought him such immense satisfaction, but it did. It was an addiction at this point.

In his eyes, you were just absolutely no fun. From the very first day he met you, you had done nothing but jab at him for being too loud and obvious. You were always rolling your eyes, saying things like, “You only know how to smash things and be reckless, Thor,” and “Stealth is an actual concept, you know?”

Now, Thor didn't dislike a lot of people. He was a damn lovable person—the golden boy of the Nine Realms, and now, an absolutely attentive king. But when it came to you? He couldn't help it. You rubbed him the wrong way all the damn time, your sharp tongue grating on his nerves. He could say with absolute, unyielding certainty that he disliked you. A lot.

You were still grumbling under your breath about him stealing your favorite ceramic mug when you noticed his massive shadow was still hovering directly over you.

“Why are you still here?” you asked, your voice coming out far more irritated than it should have. You internally cursed yourself; you were giving him way too much power over your emotions.

“I simply want to watch you sip on your beverage after me,” he said, flashing you a brilliant, smug smile.

You huffed, grabbing your freshly poured cup from the machine. “Thor, just call it coffee. Calling it a beverage does not make it sound any fancier.”

You slid past his broad shoulder, taking a deliberate, aggressive sip of your drink before making your way toward the sliding glass doors of the briefing room. He immediately fell into step behind you, his massive, sweeping strides matching yours in a pure, frustrating rhythm.

“It does sound better when I call it a beverage,” he argued, his heavy leather boots thudding loudly against the floorboards as if he could make his statement more convincing by physical force.

“Sure, lord of thunder,” you murmured, a wicked, knowing smirk pulling at your lips. You knew exactly which buttons to push, and that specific title was your absolute favorite weapon.

“I am the god of thunder!” he hissed from behind you, his voice dropping into a defensive, offended rumble. “You know what? I know you are doing this on purpose—you are intentionally trying to—”

You pushed through the glass doors, entering the sleek, high-tech briefing room with the God of Thunder hot on your heels, still fiercely grumbling about the distinct theological differences between a lord and a god.

“Ah, our favorite couple, arguing again,” Tony said loudly, opening his arms wide in a dramatic, welcoming gesture from the head of the conference table. He leaned back in his chair, a classic, mischievous glint in his eyes. “Still not able to decide whether they want to kill each other or fuck—“

Before the final, crude word could even leave his mouth, your reflexes took over. Your hand blurred. You snatched a thick, heavy tactical folder from the edge of the table and launched it through the air with lethal, pinpoint precision.

Smack. The folder hit Tony squarely across the bridge of his nose, the papers scattering in a neat halo around his chair.

“Ow! Okay, there was absolutely no need for that,” Tony muttered, wincing as he gingerly adjusted his tinted glasses, though the smirk never truly left his face. He looked over at Natasha and Steve, who were already seated, completely unfazed by the morning violence.

“You talk too much, Stark,” Thor grumbled, pulling out a chair and dropping his massive frame into it with a loud thud that resonated through the room.

Your eyebrows shot up instantly as you sat down yourself. “Says you?” you retorted, gesturing toward his broad chest with your coffee mug. “You literally haven't shut up since the kitchen.”

“Let’s just focus on our objective, okay, guys?” Steve said, running a tired palm over his face, completely done with your collective energy so early in the morning. He pushed himself up from his seat next to Tony, leaning his broad shoulders over the holographic table to command the room.

Steve tapped the digital console, and the lights in the briefing room dimmed instantly, replaced by a glowing, three-dimensional blueprint of an ultra-private luxury island floating in the Mediterranean.

“Our focus is here: The Sanctuary,” Steve began, his voice dropping into his serious captain tone. “On paper, it’s an exclusive, hyper-secure resort for the world's billionaires, corrupt politicians, and elite criminals. But over the last forty-eight hours, our satellites intercepted an unencrypted dark-web signal bouncing from the island’s lower levels. A rogue faction has managed to smuggle a massive cache of volatile, leftover Dark Elf technology onto the premises. They’re hosting a private, black-market auction to sell it off to the highest bidder.”

You leaned forward, your brain instantly analyzing the island's perimeter. “So we drop in, neutralize the buyers, and secure the tech. Sounds like a standard Tuesday. Why are we all sitting here?”

“Because it’s a hostage situation waiting to happen if we go in loud,” Natasha spoke up from the corner, her fingers tapping against her tablet. “The entire island is rigged with a quantum-fission failsafe connected to the central vault. If the resort’s biometric security detects a frontal assault, a breach, or a single Quinjet on their radar, the system will instantly detonate the alien cache. It’ll vaporize the island and take half of Western Europe out with the blast wave. It requires a ghost to dismantle the failsafe from the inside.”

“A ghost?” you repeated, a slow, dark smile creeping onto your face. “Perfect. I’ll go in undercover as a maid, slip into the server room, kill the signal, and leave before anyone even finishes their champagne.”

“You’re half right,” Tony cut in, tapping his pen against his cheek. “You are going undercover. But you’re not going as a maid, Shadow. The resort has a strict, biometric-level verification system for all service staff, but their guest list is curated entirely by the billionaire owner—an eccentric, power-obsessed arms dealer named Moretti. He has a strict ‘No Media, Couples Only’ policy for his guests to protect their privacy.”

Tony smirked, leaning forward and typing a command into his console. The holographic display shifted from the island to a digital invitation, written in gold lettering, making your eyes go wide. No.

“Moretti is obsessed with power, gods, and mythology,” Tony explained, his eyes darting between you and the blonde King sitting across from you. “He doesn't just want money; he wants prestige. So, we gave him exactly what he wanted. We leaked a carefully staged, ‘top-secret’ paparazzi photo to the press this morning. The official narrative? The newly crowned King of Asgard has secretly retired from his bachelor days and eloped with a fierce, mysterious warrior woman.”

Your breath hitched violently in your throat. The coffee in your mug suddenly felt like acid.

“What?” you whispered, your heart stopping. You were an Avenger; you were known to the world, but you operated mostly in the quiet, precise darkness. To be thrust into the center of attention like this was your worst nightmare.

Thor froze, his hand stopping mid-air as he went to scratch his short blonde beard. His blue eyes went incredibly wide as he stared at the holographic invitation. “Stark—what madness are you speaking of?”

“It’s simple, lovebirds,” Natasha said, her voice laced with an infuriatingly calm amusement. “Moretti swallowed the bait hook, line, and sinker. The moment he saw the news that the King Of Asgard was on a secret honeymoon, he personally sent out an exclusive, all-access VIP invitation to the royal couple. You two are the ultimate distraction.”

Steve looked at the two of you, his expression sympathetic but unyielding. “Thor keeps all eyes on him by playing the loud, boastful, larger-than-life husband, giving you the perfect cover to move through the high-society crowds, slip into the shadows, and quietly dismantle the failsafe without triggering the biometric alarms. You need his status to get through the front door, and he needs your precision to make sure the island doesn't explode.”

“You expect me,” you said slowly, your voice dropping into a lethal, dangerous sound as you pointed a finger across the table, “to pretend to be blissfully, passionately in love with him? For how long exactly?”

“Not a soul here but you said passionately—“ Thor grumbled but was cut off by you, “Shut up, will you?”

Thor’s hands twitched, like he was holding himself from doing something irrational. He sighed a long breath, trying to compose himself, he didn’t think he could do this. Why did it have to be you, of all people?

But your skills in being a ghost were too good—too fucking perfect for your own good. So he knew the reason why it had to be you, but he protested anyway, he turned to Steve, “I do not see why she should be the one coming with me—“

You didn’t let him finish, rolling your eyes as you said “I’m not loving the idea either—“

“Depends on you, really. Could just be two days or a whole week.“ Steve said cutting both of you off as he looked at the both of you, clearly distressed at your brewing argument, again. “An entire week?” you said, your voice dripping with irritation, your jaw locking at the mere thought of it.

“Hey, it’s a tough gig, but someone’s gotta do it,” Tony chuckled, completely ignoring the murderous look you were throwing him across the table. “Congratulations, kids. Pack your bags. You’re going on a honeymoon.”

—

You were huffing and puffing as you aggressively packed your suitcases—yes, suitcases, plural.

You were practically tearing through your wardrobe, shoving in dresses, hats, sunglasses, and anything else you could get your hands on, entirely leaving the burden of actually coordinating an outfit for later. The second you had escaped the briefing room, you had fled to your quarters. The news was still pouring over you like boiling water, making your skin burn with a restless, defensive heat just thinking about it.

How the hell were you going to pretend to be his wife?

The only thing you were biologically capable of doing near that man was yelling at him, throwing files at his head, or arguing until you were blue in the face. He got on your nerves every single second of the day, provoking you with that smug arrogance of his, making you want to literally peel your own skin off your bones just to escape his proximity. And now you were supposed to look into his blue eyes and play the part of a blushing, smitten bride on a Mediterranean honeymoon. It was sick. It was a comedy of errors written by a cruel universe.

As you slammed another folded gown into the suitcase, your movements suddenly slowed. Your eyes caught sight of the faint, jagged scars marring the skin over your forearms and stomach.

A sudden, heavy wave of insecurity bubbled up inside your chest, overtaking the rage. The thought of being forced into revealing resort wear—of being paraded around an island full of hyper-critical, judgmental billionaires who you knew would dissect your every flaw—infiltrated your mind.

Usually, you were secure in your own skin. You were an Avenger, for God's sake. You were a lethal weapon, and honestly, you did wear dresses when the occasion called for it. But in this context? Under the blinding, global spotlight? You felt like a fraud. You felt like every single pair of eyes on that island would be glued to you, the judgmental, elitist sneers of high society cutting right through you simply because you were Thor’s goddamn wife. You were the woman who had supposedly tamed the King of Asgard, and they would be looking for any reason to tear you apart.

The scars were a permanent, physical gift from your torturers. The monsters who had turned you immortal years ago.

You could not die of age. You could not fall succumb to diseases. Even lethal wounds healed seamlessly within hours if properly attended to. You were stuck living like this forever, the terrifying nightmares from those months in the lab still playing in your mind night after night, making your throat go completely sore as you woke up screaming for them to stop. The experiments had broken your human limitations, locking your cellular structure in a permanent, un-aging loop.

You sharply rubbed at your eyes with the palms of your hands, trying to force the horrific memories to flee from your mind. The ghosts of your past loved to haunt you wherever you went, but you couldn't afford a breakdown today. Not with a flight to catch.

Letting out a heavy, defeated sigh, you declared yourself done with the chaotic packing. You bit your lip anxiously as you got ready for the travel day, pulling a simple, breezy white summer dress over your frame. The fabric flared gently around your knees, and you slid your feet into a pair of modest kitten heels. Finally, you pulled a soft white cardigan over your shoulders, fastening a few buttons, strictly wanting to ensure you wouldn't freeze before you reached your destination. You took one last look in the mirror, masking the assassin, masking the scars, and preparing to face your fate.

As you opened the door, struggling to maneuver your suitcases out of the room, you immediately heard his voice booming down the corridor.

“How are you going to carry those by yourself?” Thor asked, leaning against the wall with a wicked, entirely too handsome smile plastered across his face.

He was obviously going to help you. If the King of Asgard was anything, he was a gentleman down to his very bones—but he didn't just want to be helpful. He wanted to hear the words come out of your mouth. He wanted you to look him in the eye and actively admit that you needed his help. He knew you would absolutely hate doing it, which only made him crave it more.

“I can handle myself just fine,” you breathed out defensively. You leaned your weight back, using the rolling wheels of the suitcases to your advantage. Your pride was still firmly intact because you could easily drag them behind you on a flat surface, but you knew deep down that you couldn't physically lift both of these giant, overpacked cases at the same time down a flight of stairs. But he most definitely did not need to know that.

“Oh? So you don’t need any assistance at all?” he remarked smoothly. He was casually carrying his own massive tactical suitcase in one hand by the handle, his arm barely flexing. It was probably like holding a mosquito between his fingers for him.

“No. Especially not from you,” you huffed, your heels clicking sharply against the tile as you tried to wheel past him, clearly getting irritated by his mere existence.

“Hm,” he just mumbled, a deeply amused sound vibrating in his throat as he turned and watched you walk over to the elevator banks.

You aggressively pressed the down button, silently begging the universe for the doors to open as fast as humanly possible. You could feel Thor’s massive presence looming right behind you, practically radiating an eager energy, just waiting for another opportunity to prod at you.

“What are you waiting for?” you asked, your voice incredibly tight from pure annoyance.

He chuckled, the sound low and rumbling. “For the elevator, Little Flame. Same as you.”

You could feel his massive, broad frame standing directly behind your back. Even though there were a few inches of space separating you, he was like a literal furnace, a heavy, intoxicating heat radiating off his body and wrapping around your shoulders.

You rolled your eyes at the ceiling. “You can carry your own suitcase. I don't see why—” You abruptly cut yourself off, closing your eyes tightly, your face scrunching up in disdain.

Fuck. You had just walked right into his trap.

“Oh, so you cannot carry yours?” he prodded instantly, his tone dripping with sheer amusement. Your eyes opened back up immediately.

Where was this fucking elevator?!

Realizing the lift was taking too long, you sharply turned around to face him. Your bruised, stubborn ego completely hijacked your brain, making you snap at him before you could stop yourself. “I very much can!”

Thor looked down at you, his blue eyes sparkling with a level of amusement that was bordering on infuriating. “Oh, please, be my guest, will you?” He dramatically extended his free hand, gesturing toward the grand concrete staircase at the end of the hall. You huffed a sharp breath through your nose, your jaw locking. “Fine.”

You spun on your heels, deliberately dragging your heavy suitcases over to the very edge of the stairs, desperately delaying the exact moment you would actually have to lift them. When you finally reached the top step, you stopped and stared down at the luggage, your brain going into overdrive as you calculated the weight distribution.

Thor followed you, enjoying every single second of this entirely too much. Even his stance—weight shifted to one hip, a smirk playing on his lips—radiated absolute satisfaction.

“Struggling there?” he asked, taking a deliberate step closer to you.

“Not at all,” you lied through your teeth. Your eyes narrowed into lethal slits as you stared at him, and out of pure, stubborn stupidity, you grabbed the handles of both massive suitcases.

Bracing yourself in your goddamn kitten heels, you attempted to lift them both off the ground at the exact same time.

But the second your muscles tensed and you yanked them up, the combined, brutal weight of the luggage completely threw off your center of gravity. Your body violently swung forward toward the edge of the stairs, the momentum dragging you directly downward. A sharp, terrified yelp tore from your throat as your foot slipped on the smooth edge. You closed your eyes, waiting for the inevitable impact.

You were definitely going down. You were going to roll down a flight of concrete stairs in a white summer dress, become the laughing stock of the entire Avengers Compound, and probably severely injure yourself—meaning you'd have to hobble around the island waiting for your powers to slowly knit your bones back together. Amazing. Brilliant execution, babe, bravo.

But just as those thoughts raced through your mind, they disappeared entirely.

A massive, incredibly solid arm suddenly wrapped like an iron band around your waist. With one effortless, powerful pull, he caught your entire body weight, dragging you firmly back from the edge of the abyss and slamming your back flush against his broad, solid chest.

You opened your eyes—which you hadn't even realized you'd squeezed shut—and let out a shaky, breathless sigh of pure relief. Your heart was hammering like a drum against your ribs.

“Perhaps now, you will admit that you need me to carry them for you,” he mumbled. His voice was a gravelly rasp right against the back of your ear, his warm breath fanning across your skin and causing a shiver of goosebumps to erupt down your neck and arms.

Your breath caught. You quickly huffed, using your hands to pry his heavy arm away from your waist. The skin beneath your dress was practically burning from his touch, but you absolutely did not have the mental capacity to dwell on that right now.

You turned around to face him, your cheeks flushed, your expression a mixture of distress and absolute fury that you had just proven him entirely right.

“Fine,” you said, your voice tight and defeated.

Thor didn't move an inch out of your personal space. He looked down at you, his eyes slowly tracing over your flushed face and your white dress, a smug, triumphant look in his gaze.

“Fine, what?” he challenged softly, wanting every single syllable of his victory.

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, your pride fiercely battling against the cold reality of the situation. You darted a desperate look toward the elevator, but the glowing digital screen indicated it was still stuck on a lower floor. Frustrated and completely cornered, you aggressively slammed your right foot down against the tile floor like a spoiled child. He always brought that irritating, uncharacteristic side out of you.

“Okay,” you snapped, completely averting your gaze from his face as you mumbled, “Ineedyoutocarrymyluggageforme.”

The words tumbled out of your mouth in a single, rushed, completely unintelligible breath, your eyes locked onto the center of his chest.

“What?” Thor chuckled again, the hilarious sight of you stomping your foot and speaking at supersonic speed catching him entirely off guard. A deep, rumble of laughter shook his chest. “I did not quite get that, Little Flame. Can you say it again?” He was enjoying this far too much for his own good, the smug triumph radiating off him in waves.

“I need you to carry my luggage for me,” you enunciated sharply, every word dripping with pure annoyance.

Instead of just taking the win, Thor brought a thick finger to his chin, tapping it as if he were lost in deep thought. He scrunched up his handsome face, tilting his head. “I don’t think that was a really nice way of asking someone to carry your ginormous suitcases for you.”

“Ugh!” You let out a loud, frustrated yell, throwing your hands down to your sides as you forced yourself to look him dead in his sparkling blue eyes. “Will you please carry my luggage for me?”

He smiled triumphantly, his entire face lighting up like a kid on Christmas morning. He finally stepped forward and grabbed your two bags, arranging them in perfect order back-to-back so their elongated handles lined up close together. Then, with a single, massive hand, he closed his fingers over both handles at once. With his own tactical suitcase in his other hand, he effortlessly lifted all three massive bags off the floor without a single hint of strain.

The elevator suddenly dinged, the doors sliding open just as he hoisted the luggage into the air. Ordinarily, you would have completely lost your temper at timing like that. You would have cursed the universe out loud for making you beg for help only for the elevator to arrive a second later.

But the words died in your throat.

The sight of him carrying all three heavy suitcases at once made you breathe in a sharp, sudden gasp. Your pulse skipped a beat in your chest, and your eyes involuntarily roamed all over his frame. He had changed out of his grey t-shirt before coming to your door; he was now wearing a tight black t-shirt that hugged the broad expanse of his chest and shoulders, paired with tailored charcoal linen pants and black loafers.

He looked good. So fucking hot, in fact, that it sent an unexpected, electric tingle shooting straight through your core and settling deep in your stomach. The sight of his veins popping and his massive biceps bulging as he easily carried the weight of your entire life in one hand was—

What the fuck? What the hell was wrong with you?

You were fully aware that the King of Asgard possessed heart-stoppingly good looks—the entire planet was aware of it—but his infuriating behaviour toward you usually stopped you from ever enjoying the sight. You were supposed to dislike him. You were rivals. But what the fuck had just happened to your brain?

You sharply cleared your throat, forcefully tearing your eyes away from his arms as your cheeks burned a bright, furious crimson. Desperate to hide your sudden fluster, you quickly turned and marched past him, going down the staird in a fastened pace.

Thor smoothly followed behind you, his loafers making zero noise on the concrete, while your heels clicked loudly and rapidly down the steps, echoing your erratic, racing heartbeat.

Thor was watching you walk down the stairs before him, still visibly fuming that he had managed to break your stubborn streak and force a please out of your mouth. He was utterly relishing the victory, a brilliant, smug smile that practically screamed he had won etched across his handsome features while he effortlessly balanced your massive luggage in his grip.

But his smugness didn't last long.

You huffed, stopping for a brief second on the landing. With a fluid, deliberate motion, you slid your white cardigan off your shoulders, pooling the fabric into one hand. The sudden movement exposed the sharp, elegant lines of your collarbones in the strapless white dress. You flipped your hair to one side, completely baring the smooth expanse of your neck to the air—and to him. Then, as if you couldn't quite decide what kind of sensory torture you wanted to execute on the King of Asgard, you started heading down the remaining stairs, your hips swaying with a natural, intoxicating rhythm.

Thor took a sudden, sharp breath at the sight before him. His blue eyes went wide, running over your frame, completely unable to decide where to look. His gaze got hopelessly caught on the soft curve of your shoulders, the narrow dip of your waist, the hypnotic roll of your hips.

A hot rush of blood surged to his head. His breath caught violently in his chest, and for the first time in his immortal life, the God of Thunder actually stumbled on a concrete step. His black loafer clipped the edge, his chest heaving as he quickly caught himself.

What the actual hell was happening? He was well aware that you were breathtaking; he had seen the way people’s heads turned whenever you walked into a room without you even trying. But this? This reaction was entirely uncalled for. He disliked you. He disliked your sharp tongue and the way you always had a quip ready to jab at him. He shouldn't be admiring you, yet his heart was currently hammering against his ribs like a war drum.

Hearing his sudden, heavy stumble, you paused and turned your head back to see what was wrong. You found him standing a few steps above you, his jaw slightly slack. A wicked smile slowly bloomed across your face.

“What was that, Your Majesty? Are they too much for you to carry?” you taunted, shifting your body so your chest was fully turned toward him.

Thor’s eyes helplessly drifted downward to your now fully visible chest, his breath catching for a second time that day. The flush on his neck deepened. He aggressively cleared his throat, forcing his eyes up to meet your smirking face.

“Hah! I can move literal mountains, Little Flame. These trinkets are nothing to me,” he mumbled defensively, his voice a bit more rushed than usual. “I simply lost my balance is all.”

Desperate to escape your mocking gaze, he practically ran down the remaining stairs, his loafers squeaking slightly against the polished concrete as he hurried into the main lobby with all three suitcases clutched tightly in his hands.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you watched him go, continuing your descent. The discarded cardigan remained clutched in your hand; you felt entirely too hot, your own racing thoughts making your skin flush. You gulped, trying to aggressively shoo the bizarre tension out of your mind. You hated him. You needed to get a grip.

When you finally reached the expansive glass entrance of the compound, Thor was already standing there, deep in a heated discussion with Tony.

“Why spend hours traveling in one of your metal birds when we can get there in seconds?” Thor was arguing, his brow furrowed in genuine, godly confusion.

Tony turned toward you as you approached, a wicked, entirely too amused smirk lighting up his face. “Ah, perfect timing, Shadow. Point Break here is staging a mutiny. He says you two don't need to board a plane or take a Quinjet.”

“How come?” you asked, your blood suddenly running cold. An ominous weight dropped into your stomach because you could already guess exactly what the god of thunder had in mind.

“Stormbreaker can take us across the world in seconds,” Thor said, turning his massive frame toward you, completely serious.

“But—” you started, your mind frantically grasping for any viable excuse to avoid being that physically close to him for a cosmic teleportation ride. “But how will you carry the luggage while we traverse realms? It’s impossible.”

“You just hold onto me, and I will handle the rest,” he said easily, dismissively, as if he were explaining the most simple, mundane task in the world. You swallowed hard, your heart doing a strange flip. “But Thor, you have to hold Stormbreaker in one hand, and the luggage in the other. What about me? Where am I supposed to go?”

Thor let out a sharp, irritated huff, clearly done with you dragging out the inevitable. “I said I will handle it. Now, let us go.”

He turned away, marching through the sliding glass doors into the bright morning air. He dropped his own suitcase onto the concrete pavement and extended his right hand toward the sky. Within a split second, a loud, crackling boom echoed through the compound as the massive, heavy blade of Stormbreaker flew from his room straight into his waiting palm.

With practiced, terrifying strength, he gathered the handles of all three massive suitcases into his other hand, hoisting them up effortlessly. He turned his head, his short blonde hair catching the sunlight, and motioned sharply with his chin for you to come closer.

You narrowed your eyes at him stubbornly, crossing your arms over your chest. “What if I don’t want to—” Before you could even finish your protest, Thor’s patience snapped. In one swift, blur of a movement, his massive hand shot out and grabbed you firmly by the wrist.

You let out a sharp yelp as he effortlessly yanked you forward into his personal space, his strength completely overriding your balance. He forcefully guided your arms around his thick middle, pulling you so close that your cheek was muffled right against the hard, solid muscle of his chest.

You could feel his heavy pectoral muscles instantly tighten at the sudden contact, a wave of intense, radiating heat washing over you. Before you could even open your mouth to yell at him for handling you so roughly, his deep, rumbling voice vibrated right through his chest wall against your ear. “Hold on tight.” And with a sudden, blinding flash of blue electricity, he raised Stormbreaker high into the sky.

A blinding burst of color erupted all around you as the Bifrost engulfed you both. The roaring force of the cosmic energy threatened to rip you away, and you instinctively closed your eyes tightly, holding yourself steady by gluing your body entirely to his. Your fingers dug firmly into the fabric of his shirt, pulling yourself so close that there wasn’t a single millimeter of space left between your chest and his.

Then, just as quickly as it had begun, the rushing roar vanished.

You felt your heels solidly touch the ground, arriving at your destination in a second. For a moment, your hands remained tightly locked around his middle and your face was still pressed right against the warm, hard muscle of his chest, you could hear his heartbeat thudding against his ribs.

Slowly, you forced your eyes open and pulled your face back, blinking against the sudden, brilliant glare of the Mediterranean sun.

The Sanctuary stretched out before you, you were standing on a private, pristine white-stone terrace that overlooked a sprawling, crescent-shaped bay. The water below was a blinding, translucent turquoise, so clear that you could see the dark, shifting shadows of coral reefs deep beneath the surface. Sleek, multi-million-dollar superyachts were anchored in the distance, polished and gleaming under the midday sun.

The resort itself was built directly into the towering, sun-bleached cliffs of the island. It was a marvel of modern, minimalist design blended with ancient luxury—all clean white concrete, floor-to-ceiling glass panels, and cascading infinity pools that seemed to spill directly into the ocean below. Lavish, vibrant pink bougainvillea and lush green palms draped over stone walkways, softening the sharp lines of the villas.

Your nostrills filled with the scent of saltwater, expensive citrus perfume, and blooming jasmine. In the distance, you could hear the faint, muted clinking of crystal glasses and the smooth, ambient lounge music drifting from an exclusive beachfront pavilion. It was entirely peaceful, completely hidden from the rest of the world, and crawling with some of the most dangerous, corrupt elite on the planet.

You let out a slow breath, your eyes immediately mapping out the security cameras hidden in the palm trees and the heavily armed guards dressed in casual, matching resort linen suits.

“You can let go of me now, Little Flame,” Thor’s deep voice murmured directly above you, a distinct trace of that familiar, smug amusement vibrating right against your hands. “Unless, of course, you are already enjoying the perks of marriage.”

You blinked, sharply pushing yourself away from his broad chest. “You wish,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes as you aggressively smoothed down the wrinkled fabric of your white summer dress. “I’m not exactly into lords, anyway. I prefer a much stronger title.”

“Good thing I am not a lord, then,” he replied smoothly. For the first time, he didn't get defensive or angry at the jab. Instead, he just stood there, smiling down at you with a gaze so wicked that you could practically feel the blood rushing straight to your head.

You internally groaned, chastising yourself. Stupid girl. You really should have thought beforehand that he would turn your own words right back on you like that. But before your scrambled brain could piece together a proper, biting retort, the heavy footsteps of the resort's security staff cut you off.

“Are you invited, sir?”

A burly bodyguard in a pristine, light-blue linen suit approached the two of you. His voice was laced with a deep, unmistakable tone of respect; he clearly recognized the King of Asgard, but he was trying to maintain the island's strict protocol.

“Yes,” you intervened seamlessly, sliding in front of Thor. Your training kicked in instantly, and a perfected, dazzling smile etched itself onto your face. You held up your phone, displaying the exclusive, gold-rimmed digital invitation Tony had intercepted.

The bodyguard scanned the screen, nodding, but his cautious gaze quickly drifted down to the massive, terrifying axe gripped firmly in Thor's left hand. “We... do not allow weapons on the resort grounds, sir. If you could leave it with security—”

“Ah, that is easily remedied,” Thor interrupted cheerfully. With a casual flick of his wrist, the massive, razor-sharp blade of Stormbreaker melted away, shrinking down until it transformed into a simple, polished black umbrella. You whipped your head around to look at the object, completely deadpan. “An umbrella? In this weather?” you muttered, gesturing to the cloudless, blazing mediterranean sky.

Thor’s eyebrows furrowed at you, his jaw tightening in annoyance at your public critique. “Well, there is something called a summer rain, sweetheart,” he said, faking an incredibly sweet, doting smile for the sake of the watchibg guard, though his blue eyes promised absolute murder.

“I don’t think it’s going to rain anytime soon, honey,” you shot back, your voice dripping with a deep, sickeningly fake sugary sweetness as your own plastic smile widened. Before you could take another breath, Thor’s massive arm suddenly shot out, wrapping securely around your waist and forcefully dragging you flush into his side for a tight, suffocating hug.

A sharp, undignified yelp tore from your throat at the sudden impact, but you quickly cleared your throat, masking your shock as you gripped his forearm. He was absolutely enjoying torturing you, using the doting husband act as the perfect excuse to handle you however he pleased. You were going to kill him.

“I can make it rain anytime I wish,” he murmured, his tone biting at you in a dangerous, playful whisper that sent an involuntary shiver down your spine. He flashed one last dazzling smile at the bewildered bodyguard. “Now, let us go to our room, yeah?”

After that, the guard politely led you both through the sweeping glass doors toward the main lobby, where a receptionist stood behind a white marble desk, a bright, welcoming smile on her face.

“Welcome to The Sanctuary. Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Odinson,” she said smoothly, but the moment the words left her mouth, you saw her cringe a bit, her eyes darting between the digital registry and your face as she thought the names over. You noticed the hesitation instantly, Odinson did sound incredibly weird when referring to a woman.

“Is that your last name now, madam? Should I call you that?” she genuinely asked, looking a bit flustered, as if she were desperately trying to avoid making a mistake.

A massive grin broke across your face while Thor’s expression instantly soured. Oh, you liked this receptionist already.

“I genuinely have no idea. It does sound completely off when you say it like that, doesn't it?” you said, leaning against the marble desk. Then, you slowly turned your head to look up at him, your eyes wide with mock innocence. “Honey, is my last name Odinson now? Wouldn't that literally just mean I’m a son of Odin? I mea—”

He cut you off instantly, his jaw clenching as he growled under his breath, clearly pissed. “Well, we are in Midgard, darling. So your last name is now Odinson here, no? It is how things are done on this realm.” He forced out a tight, blindingly fake smile, trying his absolute best not to throw off the receptionist standing inches away.

You smiled right back, utterly loving the fact that you had managed to piss him off so quickly. You turned back to the receptionist, giving her a conspiratorial look. “Or you could just call me by my former last na—”

“No.” Thor cut you off again, his deep voice dropping an octave, completely unyielding as his blue eyes threw literal daggers down at you. “She will be referred to as Mrs. Odinson.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, your smile faltering for a split second. That was a remarkably quick, fiercely defensive reaction from him. Why the hell did he care so much about a fake human registry?

Recovering quickly, you huffed out a light, airy fake laugh for the receptionist's benefit, gesturing toward the rigid King beside you. “He gets incredibly defensive in situations like this,” you told her. Then, leaning in slightly, you whispered in a stage-whisper, “Male ego, am I right?” The receptionist let out a quiet, knowing chuckle and nodded her head in absolute agreement, clearly understanding exactly what you meant.

“I will show you to your room then, Mrs. Odinson,” she said, stepping out from behind the marble desk and motioning toward a glass elevator that overlooked the turquoise bay, while waving over a bellboy to take the three giant suitcases from Thor's hands.

Thor let the bellboy take the suitcases, his hands finally free as he followed the two of you toward the glass lift. The receptionist held the elevator doors open, gesturing politely with an extended hand, and once you and Thor stepped inside, she followed, pressing the button for the upper residential levels.

The elevator began its smooth ascent. Thor looked around the glass enclosure, his massive arms folding tightly over his broad chest. The movement made his biceps bulge prominently against the fabric of his t-shirt, and your traitorous eyes immediately darted downward, following the sharp lines of his muscles before you could even stop yourself.

“I like this Midgardian facility,” Thor remarked, his deep voice echoing in the enclosed space as he looked out at the view. “It is quite nice.”

“Me too. Love the design, honestly.” you said smoothly, flashing a perfect, effortless hand gesture, but as your eyes finally flicked away from Thor’s arm, you caught something out of the corner of your eye. A sudden, entirely unknown feeling brewed in the pit of your stomach.

The receptionist was staring at Thor’s arms. And she wasn't just glancing; she was so goddamn focused, her eyes tracing the thick veins of his biceps, that she didn't even notice your lethal gaze cutting right through her.

You were definitely taking it back—you did not like this girl at all.

Before your brain could even process the irrational spike of possessiveness, you acted on pure instinct. You stepped right into his space, cleared your throat sharply, and forcefully reached up to uncross his arms.

“What are—” Thor started, entirely caught off guard by the unexpected intrusion.

He was completely silenced as you forcefully dragged his broad frame down into a tight side hug. Your arm slid securely over his back, anchoring him to you, and you felt his breath hitch violently at the sudden contact. He froze for a second, his chest heaving, before he cleared his throat and let his massive hand find the curve of your waist, pulling you securely against his hip.

You kept your eyes locked dead on the receptionist, claiming your territory with absolute, unyielding dominance. You flashed her a wicked, razor-sharp smile. The girl's cheeks instantly flushed crimson, and she averted her eyes toward the floor, clearly mortified that she had been caught staring at a married man, beside his wife at that.

The second the threat was neutralized, your actions crashed down on you. You had absolutely no idea what had just come over you, or why the fuck you would ever do something like that over Thor. Okay, you probably—definitely did that because the thought of another woman disrespecting you by looking at your husband made you want to commit murder. Correction, supposed husband. Still he was your fucking husband for now and she was looking at him and— It’s all about you really, all good. Nothing to worry about.

Your face burned with a furious heat as you forced your gaze straight ahead, refusing to look at him, but you could feel the immense weight of his blue eyes staring down at the side of your face—burning you, fucking scorching you with an intense, questioning gaze.

Thankfully, the elevator dinged, saving you from the embarrassment.

The doors slid open, and you caught your first breathtaking sight of the upper facility. It wasn't a standard, enclosed hotel corridor. Instead, the elevator opened directly into the brilliant, open air of the cliffside. It was designed like an exclusive luxury resort enclave; the elevator connected the lower main lobby directly to an expansive, sun-drenched outdoor terrace that led to the private villa section of the property.

Stone pathways winded through lush, manicured tropical gardens, flanked by cascading water features and private infinity pools that looked like they hung off the edge of the world. The ocean breeze hit your face instantly, lifting the hem of your white dress, but the burning weight of Thor’s hand still resting firmly on your waist made it impossible to feel the cold.

You followed the receptionist, her eyes now glued strictly forward as she walked, her posture stiff with the embarrassment of the whole situation.

You tried to subtly peel yourself away from Thor’s side, but the moment you moved, the heavy grip of his hand on your waist tightened significantly. Your eyes instinctively glanced upward to him, ready to snap, but he was simply looking around at the passing scenery, appearing completely unbothered by the situation. Why wouldn't he let go? You wondered why the hell he would keep you tethered to his side like this, as if he actively wanted you there.

Then, doing something you thought you would absolutely never do, you let him. You quietly surrendered, allowing him to hold you tight against his hip as you both walked down the sun-drenched stone path.

Other elite couples passed you by, their judgmental eyes scanning you up and down as they noted the stunning, mysterious woman on the arm of the Asgardian King. This is exactly why he is keeping you glued to him, a strict, grounding voice echoed in your mind. Do not forget the objective, or the fact that you both could never, ever like each other like that. You swallowed hard, your own hand involuntarily tightening around his side for a split second. Why the fuck would you even think otherwise?

The receptionist finally approached a secluded, breathtaking cliffside villa. She opened the heavy timber door for you, stepping aside to hand you the room keycards.

The moment you stepped across the threshold, your eyes widened at the sight before you. Your blood ran completely cold. You let go of his waist immediately, and this time he actually let you.

Your hands were slightly shaking as you looked around the massive, sunlit room. Why hadn't you thought of this earlier? Ofcourse. It was painfully obvious. You were pretending to be a married couple on a honeymoon, after all.

You looked beside you only to see Thor standing entirely frozen, his lips slightly agape and his breathing turning shallow and fast as you both simultaneously realized how profoundly fucked up this mission actually was.

There was only one fucking bed.

It was a massive, ultra-luxurious king-sized bed, draped in crisp white linens and pushed directly against the center of the room, facing the glass walls that looked out over the ocean. Thor couldn't believe his own stupidity; how could he have thought he wouldn't have to share a bed with you on a mission where you were supposed to be blissfully in love? This mission was officially going to be the absolute death of him.

He slowly turned his head to look down at you, only to find you already staring up at him with completely bewildered, panicked eyes.

“I hope you like your room. Have a wonderful stay, Mr. and Mrs. Odinson,” the receptionist said, her voice finally breaking the tense silence that had descended upon the room.

The sound of her talking jolted you both out of your shared panic. You didn't even look at her fully, only giving a stiff side-eye and a tight nod before she quickly scrambled out of the room, shutting the heavy door behind her.

The second the click of the lock echoed through the villa, you spun on your heels to face him. Your voice was sharp, defensive, and entirely determined as you pointed a finger at him. “I will sleep in the bed.”

His eyes narrowed at you instantly. “No, I will,” he counter-attacked, and with two long, authoritative strides, he walked over to the bed and sat down heavily on the mattress, trying to claim the territory by physical force. You scoffed loudly, refusing to back down. You marched right over to the edge of the bed and sat down forcefully beside him, turning your body to face him dead-on. “I will,” you repeated stubbornly, your jaw locking.

Thor snorted, a challenge dancing in his blue eyes. “Okay, then. You will simply be sleeping next to me.”

Your eyes widened in sudden panic as you huffed out a sharp breath. “What?” you said, utterly bewildered by the casualness of his suggestion.

He rolled his eyes, gesturing broadly to the sprawling mattress behind him. “This is a massive bed, love. We both can fit, clearly.”

The moment the casual pet name slipped from his tongue, Thor internally bit down on it, desperately trying to maintain his stoic composure. What the fuck is my problem? he wondered, a silent storm raging in his mind as he stared at your flushed face. There was no one here to perform for. The door was locked. Yet his brain was completely short-circuiting.

Your breath hitched in your throat. Why the hell would he call you that when there wasn't a single soul around to witness it? You swallowed hard, trying to inject some of your usual venom back into your voice to hide your racing pulse. “You are ginormous, Thor. You would probably just roll over in the middle of the night and crush me to death or something—”

“I would never,” he said softly, cutting you off. He looked directly at you, his gaze suddenly changing into an intensity so deeply serious, that it made your heart give a treacherous flutter against your ribs.

You gulped, your mind going entirely blank. You tried to grasp for another excuse, another biting retort, but the gravity of his presence was making you forget everything else besides him.

Thor’s eyes roamed all over your face, desperately trying to dissect whatever panicked thoughts were racing through your mind. But as his gaze drifted downward, your bare arms caught his eye.

His breath hitched violently. His eyebrows furrowed into a deep, troubled line as his vision focused entirely on your skin.

How the hell had he never noticed them before?

Faint, jagged scars were littered all over your arms, disrupting your otherwise flawless skin. They were the unmistakable, ghostly remnants of... what? How could you have possibly acquired them? He knew you possessed an advanced healing factor—he had seen you bounce back from lethal battle wounds within hours—so if these marks remained, the trauma that caused them must have been unfathomable. It must have happened before you ever gained your abilities. But how did you even get your powers?

Thor realized, with a jarring pang in his chest, that he knew absolutely nothing about your history. He knew nothing of what had happened to you, where you had come from, or how you had earned those marks. A dark, protective rage began to brew in his chest, his breathing turning ragged as he stared at the faint lines.

You noticed the exact second his eyes shifted. A cold, suffocating dread pooled in your stomach.

Nobody outside of Tony, Steve, Natasha, and Bucky knew what had happened to you. Tony and Steve knew because they were the ones who had found you, breaking into that dark Hydra facility to save your life. Natasha knew because she was your absolute closest friend, the person who held you through the worst of the night terrors. Bucky knew only because you had trusted him with the truth, knowing he was the only one who truly understood the agony of being a broken, unwilling assassin.

But Thor? Thor hadn't been there when you were saved. He had been worlds away, dealing with the high-stakes matters of Asgard. And you, of course, had never told him. How could you? When he had finally returned to Earth and met you for the very first time, he had simply looked at you deadpan and muttered, “She looks gloomy.”

The comment had broken you. Before he had ever spoken to you, you had thought him absolutely extraordinary. The exact second you had caught sight of his legendary, powerful frame, an intense, quiet attraction had sparked inside you. But he had broken all of that in a single second by calling you gloomy, bruising your defensive ego and forcing you to react in the absolute worst way possible—yelling at him and starting a years-long war of petty arguments. He was the only person on the team who could ever get you to react with such unhinged irritation.

Now, your heart dropped straight to your stomach at the horrifying thought of him having another piece of leverage over you. He could never know the truth. You couldn't let him see your vulnerability.

As you watched his eyes frantically trace the lines on your skin, his massive left hand slowly ascended, his fingers instinctively reaching out to gently touch your arm.

The impending contact made you take a sharp, terrified breath. Your fight-or-flight response slammed into overdrive, and you abruptly stammered out a quick, “I have to pee!” Before he could even respond, you bolted off the mattress, practically running toward the privacy of the bathroom.

You rubbed your face as you gulped, staring at your reflection in the mirror.

I have to pee? Seriously? You couldn’t have found anything better to say?

The faster we are done with this, the better, you thought to yourself, anxiously pacing around the marble bathroom. Steve had said the mission could take anywhere from two days to an entire week. You were strictly determined to wrap this up in two days max—because if you didn't, so help you God, you were going to go completely insane.

You splashed ice-cold water on your face, breathing out a long, shaky exhale. You could do this. You could endure this. This was absolutely nothing compared to the horrors you had survived in your past, but for some reason, why did it feel like this was even worse?

Steeling your nerves, you finally walked out of the bathroom, only to see Thor standing outside on the terrace, his massive back turned to you. Your eyes involuntarily roamed over his broad figure, and you breathed out a long breath to calm your racing heart.

He heard you step into the room—of course he did. He turned back toward you, locking his blue eyes onto your face as he made his way back inside. “I like it here,” he mumbled, looking around the room before his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Where are our things? That servant took—”

Your eyebrows shot up instantly. “Servant?”

“Yes. The one who took our bags.”

You let out an involuntary, nervous giggle as you sat back down on the edge of the bed, rolling your eyes. “Thor, he’s not a servant. He’s a bellboy.” His brow furrowed even deeper. “Bellboy?”

“Yes. People who carry luggage to the rooms in hotels are called bellboys.”

“So... they are servants?” he repeated stubbornly. You huffed, deeply annoyed by his royal dense-headedness. “Thor, do not call anyone a servant to their face. It’s incredibly belittling and—” Right as the lecture was leaving your mouth, a sharp knock echoed from the front door.

“Ah! The servant is here,” Thor declared triumphantly, immediately striding toward the entryway to open it.

“Thor, no—” you gasped, scrambling up from the bed. You were desperately trying to intercept him, wanting to avoid a catastrophic conversation where he would inevitably embarrass the poor resort worker.

But Thor was too fast. He swung the door open and casually leaned his massive shoulder against the wall, watching the bellboy roll your three giant suitcases into the villa’s foyer. However, instead of ignoring you, Thor’s blue eyes were suddenly gleaming with pure mischief as he looked across the room at your panicked face.

Your eyes narrowed into lethal slits. You fiercely mouthed a very deliberate, aggressive 'No' to him.

But seeing your panic only made his smug smile widen. The exact second he opened his annoying, beautiful mouth to speak, your instincts slammed into overdrive. Your brain completely short-circuited. You scrambled over to him in a blind, chaotic rush. Before he could utter a single syllable, you threw yourself into his personal space, your arms wrapping securely around his thick neck as you hopped completely on top of him, forcefully pressing his face right into the crook of your neck to physically muffle his mouth against your skin.

Thor froze dead in his tracks. The sudden impact of your body would have knocked any human man flat on his back, but he didn't even sway. His breath hitched sharply, and his massive hands instinctively shot down, grabbing the back of your thighs to hold you up without breaking a single sweat.

The bellboy’s eyes went completely wide at the unexpected, intensely passionate display.

Your face burned a scorching, furious red as you awkwardly tilted your head back, your arms still locked around Thor's neck. “Just... love my husband so much, you know? Can’t help myself,” you breathed out, your voice strained as you forced a bright, desperately in love smile.

The bellboy nodded quickly, his eyes still dinner-plate wide as he awkwardly parked the luggage.

Thor’s head had been pinned right against your neck, but he suddenly lifted his head up forcefully, his godlike strength easily overriding your desperate attempt to hold him still.

“Cannot keep her hands to herself, this one,” Thor told the bellboy, a deep, rumbling chuckle vibrating through his chest. He was smiling brightly, clearly enjoying every single second of this absolute ordeal.

You literally could not believe you had just done that. You were just trying to spare the poor worker’s feelings, and—okay, fine, you absolutely did not need to jump on top of him like a koala. But in that split second of panic, your brain had completely ruled out kissing him as an option—obviously, because why were you even thinking of it in the first place?—, leaving you with no choice but to launch yourself at him to take him off guard.

The mortified bellboy practically scrambled out of the villa, quickly wishing you both a good day before slamming the door shut.

You let out a massive sigh of relief, your forehead dropping against Thor's shoulder. You hadn't even been able to give the poor guy a tip. You shook your head in deep disapproval, your gaze finally snapping back up to look at Thor.

And that’s when your brain finally caught up to the reality of your physical situation.

The room was dead silent. Thor was staring down at you with an incredibly intense, dark, and unreadable gaze. He was still holding you entirely aloft in his arms. Your legs were circled tightly around his broad waist, his heavy hands were gripping the bare skin under your thighs, and your goddamn summer dress had completely ridden up your legs. The direct, calloused touch of his palms against your skin was burning you like liquid fire.

Your breathing suddenly grew shallow and fast. Oh god. You needed to get off of him right now.

You swallowed hard, subtly shifting your weight to slide down, but his grip remained like iron bands. You couldn't move.

“You can let go now, you know?” you whispered, your voice lacking its usual bite as you stared into his intense blue eyes.

Thor aggressively cleared his throat, looking momentarily startled by how close your lips were to his. But within a fraction of a second, that goddamn smug, teasing smile started slow-burning across his face. You knew that exact expression, and it never meant anything good for your sanity.

“Why?” he murmured, his voice dropping into a low, rumbling rasp that sent a wave of heat straight to your core. “You willingly hopped into my arms, Little Flame. I might as well enjoy the embrace.”

You gasped in absolute outrage, sharply slapping his broad chest with your palm as you desperately tried to wrench yourself out of his grip. He was being annoying, cruel, and completely, fucking insufferable.

“Just let go of me, you pervert!” you snapped, your right hand desperately attempting to peel his iron grip off your bare leg.

He finally let go of you with a low, rumbling chuckle, clearly enjoying annoying you far too much for his own good. “Pervert? I am not the one who jumped blindly into your arms, Little Flame.”

You flushed a furious crimson, sharply turning your back to him to hide the heat on your face. “Let's just fucking get ready and try to find some info on our objective,” you muttered tightly. You grabbed one of your massive suitcases, plopping it down onto the luggage rack with a heavy thud, and unzipped it. Behind you, his quiet, amused chuckles continued to bounce off the walls, making your blood boil with pure anger, but you forced your mouth shut.

You aggressively rummaged through your clothes, grabbing a white, high-cut skimpy monokini and a breezy dress to wear over it. Clucthing the fabric to your chest, you marched straight back into the bathroom to get ready.

You locked the door, taking a few ragged breaths to settle your racing pulse. You fixed your hair, and carefully slipped into the monokini and the dress. Standing in front of the mirror, you let out a long exhale, though your face was still burning with a deep, stubborn embarrassment. You could do this. It was just a mission.

You emerged from the bathroom, deliberately looking anywhere but at Thor as he smoothly stepped past you to go get changed himself. You walked over to the vanity, but a few moments later, his booming, deeply confused voice echoed from the other side of the door.

“This just looks like underwear.”

The bathroom door swung open, and Thor walked out, looking down at himself with a bewildered expression. The second your eyes landed on him, you literally choked on your own spit.

He was wearing a pair of simple navy swimming trunks—and absolutely nothing else. No shirt, no linen button-down, nothing to cover the massive expanse of his upper body.

Your eyes involuntarily danced over his frame, your mouth falling slightly agape as you took him in. The midday sun streaming through the glass walls caught every single ridge of his body. Your gaze traced the thick, prominent veins running over his forearms and bulging biceps, moving up to the broad, heavy expanse of his chest, and dropping down to his rock-hard, perfectly sculpted abs.

Oh, fuck. You felt a sharp, electric flutter ignite deep down in your stomach.

“We Asgardians just go into the waters naked to swim, you know,” he stated proudly, adjusting the waistband of the trunks. “This Earth clothing feels ridiculous.”

He was probably referring to times back home when he did exactly that—swimming freely in royal Asgardian lakes, likely with beautiful women. But the sudden, intrusive mental image of going swimming with a completely naked Thor made you gulp harshly, your eyes widening in panic.

And that was the exact moment he caught the state of your face.

Thor froze. His breath hitched in his throat as his blue eyes locked onto you. Your beautiful eyes had darkened with an intense, raw heat, your gaze completely fixed on his bare chest while your sinful lips remained slightly parted. As he watched, your tongue subtly darted out to lick your lower lip, your breathing turning shallow.

The God of Thunder felt his entire frame go completely rigid in the middle of the room.

You were not thinking what he thought you were... were you? For the first time, a heavy, pounding tension that had nothing to do with anger or bickering flooded the air around you. Thor felt his heart skip a beat against his ribs at the terrifying, intoxicating thought of you actually looking at him like that, willing him to step closer.

You closed your eyes then, and the sudden, intrusive thought of him being completely naked with other women infiltrated your mind. It filled you with a strange, unexplainable feeling—a sharp, poisonous ache that you had felt before in your life but couldn't quite put your finger on. Your stomach actively churned at the mental image, a dark wave of possessiveness and frustration twisting tight inside your core mkaing you open your eyes back.

The lung-burning silence broke when you abruptly gulped, tearing your gaze away from his abdomen as your cheeks flared a bright, defensive red.

“Put a shirt on, will you?” you muttered breathlessly.

Without waiting for a response, you spun on your heel and practically bolted out onto the sun-drenched balcony, desperately needing the breeze to help you catch your breath before you completely lost your mind.

Inside, Thor’s eyebrows furrowed deeply. He stood entirely frozen in the center of the room, his heart dropping straight to his stomach at the words you had just thrown at him.

Of course.

Why the hell would he ever think you wanted him? What was he thinking? You obviously were not attracted to him in the slightest. In fact, it was the exact opposite—you clearly disliked him so much that you couldn't even bear to see a glimpse of his bare upper body, which was why you had breathlessly demanded he cover himself up.

Thor let out a low, frustrated groan, bringing his massive hands up to aggressively palm his face. Why did he even care so much? Why did your rejection sting like needles on his skin?

Steeling his posture, he marched back over to his suitcase, snatched up a matching navy t-shirt, and harshly yanked it down over his head, hiding his chest from view. He desperately needed a fucking drink. He was entirely certain there wasn’t a single alcoholic beverage on this entire planet that could properly numb his brain right now. Not even heavy Asgardian ale could get him drunk enough at this point. He actually was fucking sure there wasn't a single drink in the entire universe that could make him drunk enough to forget about you, your angelic face, these unexplainable feelings, and the damning fact that you absolutely hated him.

“Let’s go,” his deep voice boomed behind you.

Startled out of your thoughts on the balcony, you turned around and walked back inside the air-conditioned room. You quietly followed him as he strode over to the heavy front door, swinging it open and standing firmly in the entryway as he waited for you to walk past.

You went out, your wedge sandals clicking softly on the stone path as you took a deep breath of the humid air, trying to reset your frayed nerves. As you made your way down toward the main infinity pool with Thor by your side, you suddenly felt a firm, sudden tug on your hand.

Because you had left the villa first, you had been walking a few paces ahead of him, but with one effortless pull, he brought you right back next to his side. His massive palm slid against yours, his fingers wrapping around your hand and engulfing it completely.

Your pulse gave a wild, treacherous flutter. Your eyes filled with immediate, defensive questions as you snapped your head up to look at him. Your hand felt like it was on fire, your skin practically melting under the direct heat of his touch. But before you could snap at him, Thor simply gestured with a subtle tilt of his chin toward a few couples who were walking past, watching you closely.

Right. Real couples walked hand-in-hand. You were supposed to be blissfully married, so this was completely ordinary. You forced yourself to nod, your fingers slowly sliding into his, intertwining with his firmly to sell the act.

Before heading over to the pool deck, you stopped by the wooden towel stand. You grabbed two plush beach towels, offering a polite, dazzling smile and a quiet thank you to the young worker who handed them over. As you began walking toward two vacant, prime sunbeds you had spotted near the edge of the water, Thor leaned down significantly to get right on your level.

His warm breath brushed against your ear as he whispered, “Lots of servants here.”

You immediately looked up at him, your eyes boring holes into his face. “Thor, they are resort employees. Stop it,” you hissed under your breath.

A smug, infuriating smile broke across his face. He was clearly enjoying the easy way he could piss you off. Still, his hand didn't release yours; his fingers remained tightly engulfed around your hand as you finally settled right next to the vacant sunbeds.

He finally let go of your hand, though his blue eyes remained highly alert, scanning the perimeter. He took in the entire scene—the crowded pool bar, the glittering water, and the exclusive guests. Upbeat lounge music pulsed quietly from the hidden outdoor speakers as his gaze tracked the crowd.

His eyes locked onto a specific target sitting near the bar: a man with a distinct scar slicing through his left eyebrow, short black hair, and deeply bronzed skin. The stool next to the man was vacant, and he was casually sipping on a dark amber liquor—what Thor recognized as whiskey, a Midgardian drink he had tried during his time with the Avengers.

Thor turned his head back to tell you he had spotted their mark, but the words got caught in his throat.

You had already slid your dress off, leaving it pooled on the side of the chair. You were now sitting down comfortably on the sunbed, your bare legs stretched out in front of you.

The sight of your exposed skin and the incredibly skimpy, high-cut beachwear made a sudden rush of blood boil furiously through Thor's veins. His gaze darkened instantly, his eyes helplessly mapping the smooth expanse of your collarbones, your chest, and your fucking perfect legs. Oh, fuck. He literally couldn't breathe. The air vanished from his lungs, and he averted his eyes toward the sea, his heart hammering so wildly against his ribs he thought it might actually beat its way straight out of his chest.

Desperate to cool down, he aggressively cleared his throat and grabbed the hem of his t-shirt, yanking it off his body.

Your eyes remained glued strictly ahead of you, stubbornly refusing to spare him a single glance. You heard the rustle of fabric and the distinct sound of him tossing the shirt onto the table, but you refused to face him. You unfortunately felt far too many weird, dangerous things flipping in your stomach whenever you looked at his bare chest, and you weren't about to risk your sanity now. Fuck this entire operation, really, you thought bitterly.

You heard the sunbed creak as his massive weight sat down on the lounge chair right next to yours. Your positions were exactly identical, your legs laid out parallel to each other on the matching cushions. You were close—entirely too close.

Needing to ground yourself and focus on the mission, you leaned over toward him, lowering your voice to a sharp, determined whisper. “We either finish this in two days or an entire week. Let’s get this over with quickly, so that I do not have to be your wife for another—” But you had made the catastrophic mistake of turning your head to look at him while you whispered. The words died completely in your throat, and the remaining oxygen was brutally taken right out of your lungs.

Thor had laid back against the cushion, his massive, bare arms raised up next to his head to support the back of his neck. The position made his biceps and shoulders bulge spectacularly under the sunlight, the lines of his chest stretching taut.

“...second,” you trailed off breathlessly, your voice dropping to a faint whisper as you quickly snapped your head back to stare blindly at the water in front of you.

“I agree,” Thor said simply, his deep voice carrying a gravelly, tight edge as he stared straight ahead, too. “This whole ordeal is ridiculous, I’ll tell you that. There is absolutely no need to drag it out.”

You laid perfectly still on the sunbed, the intense heat baking your skin, but it was nothing compared to the suffocating tension radiating from the man lying right next to you.

What’s happening to me? you wondered frantically in your mind, trying to ground yourself as you looked around the bustling pool area. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the man with the scarred eyebrow, and a cold jolt of recognition hit you. He looked familiar because he was your target. Valentin Moretti, the spoiled, arrogant playboy of the family who handled the high-society entertainment and smuggling logistics at the resort. He was the only middleman who held the digital decryption keys to the Dark Elf tech you and Thor were trying to locate.

And right now, he was staring right at you.

The second his eyes hit you, his posture shifted. His dark eyes narrowed, deliberately burning their way down the length of your body, lingering heavily on the high-cut lines of your white monokini and your bare legs. A smooth, predatory smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. He raised his whiskey glass in a silent, incredibly bold toast directly toward you.

“I was just about to tell you I spotted our target, but it seems like he spotted you,” Thor grumbled. He glared over at Valentin, his blue eyes darkening to a stormy hue as his hands clenched into massive, white-knuckled fists behind his head. “Why the fuck is he staring at you like that?” he muttered, every single muscle in his broad frame clenching tight as he fought a losing battle to keep himself from doing something stupid. Like striking the fucker with a stray bolt of lightning.

“Thor, keep your eyes straight ahead,” you hissed back under your breath, stubbornly refusing to look at him. “Tony said he runs the security and digital access keys for the entire compound. If he’s interested, it means we have an opening.”

“An opening to what?” Thor muttered, his tone sharply biting. “He is vile. Look at how he comports himself.”

“An opening for me to get to know hi—”

“Absolutely not,” he interrupted, his voice cutting through the humid air like a sharpened blade.

Your eyebrows furrowed deeply. “What do you mean? We need him, Thor!” you whisper-shouted, sharply turning your body toward him.

He was staring literal daggers across the pool deck, his biceps bulging prominently as he breathed. He looked absolutely furious. You scoffed internally. Did the mere thought of another man being interested in you anger him this much? Did he despise you so profoundly that he couldn't even entertain the thought that a man could actually find you attractive? You breathed sharply through your nose like an enraged bull; you absolutely could not let his fragile ego fuck up this entire operation.

“I am going to the ladies room,” you announced abruptly.

You sat up, your hips shifting with a natural, subtle sway as you swung your legs off the lounge chair. The movement drew Thor’s intense gaze straight to your back, his eyes tracking you with the exact same heavy focus as a certain someone across the pool deck. Thor’s jaw clenched so hard a muscle ticked in his cheek. He knew exactly what you were doing; he was not fucking stupid. You were trying to get away from him to corner the target alone. And he was absolutely not going to let you.

You marched into the restroom, deliberately waiting inside for two full minutes to give Valentin time to notice your absence. When you finally emerged back into the bright sunshine, your eyes instantly scanned the area for Thor, but you couldn't find his giant frame anywhere near the sunbeds. Your brows knitted in concern. Where the fuck is he? You shook your head, dismissing the thought.

Continuing your way, your strides remained purposeful, your hips swaying with an intoxicating rhythm as you confidently made your way over to the open-air pool bar. You stopped right next to two stols away from Valentin, placing your hands flat on the polished marble counter.

“A cosmopolitan, please,” you told the bartender, flashing a polite smile.

Beside you, Valentin smirked and got up, sliding onto the stool right next to you. “Good afternoon,” he smoothed, his voice dripping with an arrogant, upper-class accent as he looked down at your frame. His smirk widened. “I don’t mean to intrude, but I haven't seen your face at the Sanctuary before. I am Valentin.”

You immediately forced your perfected, dazzling smile onto your face, tilting your head up to look at him. “Hello,” you said, your voice smooth, breathy, and entirely welcoming as you deliberately played the part.

Valentin’s dark eyes flashed with deep approval at your response. But just as he opened his mouth to speak, a heavy, solid weight crashed into your side.

A massive, bare arm wrapped securely around your waist, his fingers gripping your skin so tightly that your breath instantly hitched in your throat.

“Here you are, darling,” Thor muttered, leaning down so close his lips practically brushed your ear, though his icy gaze remained dead-locked onto Valentin.

“Here I am,” you said through your teeth. You forced out a light, airy giggle for appearance's sake, but underneath the counter, you aggressively pinched the skin of his arm. Just what did he think he was doing?

In response, his grip only tightened, anchoring you flush against his solid hip.

Valentin looked between the two of you, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise, though his arrogant smirk remained firmly in place. “Your companion didn't seem to care you were there just minutes ago,” Valentin noted smoothly, turning his attention entirely back to you and deliberately stepping a fraction closer to your space. “If you ever find yourself bored with the company, cara, I am always hosting private tastings in the VIP lounge upstairs. A woman of your taste shouldn't be left to just bake in the sun.”

Valentin finally flicked a dismissive, incredibly brief glance toward Thor, taking in his towering height, his bare chest, and his silent, murderous expression. Valentin chuckled softly under his breath, entirely assuming Thor was just some brainless, handsome trophy husband you kept around for arm candy.

You felt your eyes briefly close in pure panic as Thor tried to keep his mouth shut. The tension radiating off him was terrifying; he pulled you even harder against his side, his thumb digging into your waist. Didn't this mortal idiot know who he was dealing with? The God of Thunder looked like he was about to rip Valentin’s head off his shoulders and toss it directly into the infinity pool.

“My husband,” you intervened quickly, emphasizing the word heavily while throwing Thor a sharp, lethal warning glare, “is just enjoying the peace. But thank you for the invitation, Valentin. We might just take you up on that.”

“I look forward to it,” Valentin murmured, his eyes giving your body one last, shameless scan down to your bare legs. He gave a polite nod and turned back toward the bar, entirely unaware of how close he had just come to an early grave.

Thor practically dragged you out of there, his heavy grip guiding you back toward the sunbeds.

The second Valentin was out of earshot, you let out a sharp breath, turning your head to hiss at him. “What do you think you're doing?!”

Thor didn't even spare you a glance, his jaw set in a rigid line as he kept on walking, dragging you right along by his side. “I am not doing anything.” You huffed, sharply slapping his bare arm. “Thor, you're going to ruin everything!” He acted completely deaf, ignoring your slap as he kept his heavy strides forward.

“Tomorrow,” you whispered fiercely, leaning in closer to his side so none of the passing guests could overhear. “I am going to have to flirt with him to get those access codes, and you will not do things like what you just did!”

Thor’s head snapped toward you so fast your breath caught harshly in your chest. His blue eyes were burning, fucking scorching into yours with an unhinged look.

“You will not,” he growled.

You scoffed loudly, throwing your head back. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he said flatly. He finally let go of your waist, sitting back down heavily on his sunbed.

You remained standing over him, your hands flying up in pure frustration. “Is the concept of a man finding me attractive such a foreign concept to you?!” you whisper-shouted, your chest heaving.

He didn't respond as he kept looking at Valentin, his jaw locking into a tight, defensive line. Ofcourse he did not, and that was the exact problem. Any man who set their eyes on you would find you attractive and he could not fucking stand it.

It's because you cannot stand her, his mind echoed, but he knew something was desperately wron g with him.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Valentin was still watching the two of you from the bar, clearly reveling in the fact that he had caused a little disagreement between the stunning woman and her brute of a husband. Thor’s eyes darkened even further as he tracked Valentin's amused expression.

Your gaze followed Thor's, landing right on the smug target.

“Are you serious?” you muttered to Thor. Then, turning your head toward the bar, you deliberately forced a sweet smile and gave Valentin a little, subtle wave.

You turned back to Thor, sitting down forcefully on your own sunbed. “I will do what I have to do, Thor,” you said coldly, snatching up a glossy fashion magazine from the side table—one of the resort’s complimentary services.

“We’ll see about that,” Thor muttered back, his voice dangerous.

You didn't respond, your own jaw locking in a fury so intense you wanted to wrap your hands around his thick neck and strangle him.

So yeah, your day was going exactly the same. You had wanted to strangle him in the morning, and you wanted to strangle him right now. Not a single thing had changed, other than the fact that he was now your supposed husband.

You aggressively kept on turning the glossy pages of the magazine, but your gaze followed Valentin precisely. Between the articles, your sharp eyes roamed over every single person on the pool deck, dissecting them and their behaviors, mapping out the security hierarchy of the resort. But you got bored after a while, the heat and the tension becoming too much to sit through. Deciding you needed a distraction, you stood up from your sunbed to go into the pool.

The moment you stood, Thor’s intense gaze focused directly in on your stomach. The air left his lungs. There, cutting across your midriff, were the exact same faint, jagged scars. His blood ran entirely cold. Just how many of those did you have hidden across your body? He felt his stomach churn painfully, his hands going completely cold despite the blistering sun. But just as he watched you walk down the shallow steps into the water, he fucking saw Valentin look at you again.

Just why did this guy not give up?

Thor felt something violent biting at him inside—something so utterly convincing and overwhelming that his face hardened into stone. He got up immediately, his towering frame casting a shadow over the lounge chairs as he followed you straight into the water.

You were already in the pool, the cold water instantly relieving your burning skin. You swam smoothly toward the far edge, propping your elbows up on the smooth marble so you could lay your head on your hands and finally relax.

Just as you were settling in, a calm expression finally washing over your face, the entire pool rattled with the force of someone jumping in.

You whipped your head around, your eyes wide with irritation. Thor emerged from underwater a split second later, a smug, breathless smile on his face as he broke the surface just inches away from you.

“Can I not relax in peace now?” you snapped between your teeth.

But the remaining words were brutally taken right out of your lungs. Before you could slide away, Thor wrapped his massive hands securely around the back of your bare thighs, effortlessly lifting your body up in the water. The sudden momentum left you with no choice but to instinctively circle your legs around his broad waist to keep from slipping.

“What are you doing?” you whispered into his ear, completely breathless. Despite the panic racing through your veins, you forced a bright, blinding honeymoon smile for the sake of the couples swimming near you, whose bewildered, intrigued expressions were already focused entirely on the two of you.

“I am enjoying the cold water with my wife,” he murmured back. His warm breath fanned heavily over the sensitive skin of your neck as he intentionally cornered you, crowding your front while your back was pressed against the marble edge of the pool you had been relaxing on seconds ago.

Your hands instinctively found his neck, your fingers gripping his shoulders while your thumbs lightly played with the short hairs at the nape of his neck. You looked at him, your lips dangling a mere inch away from his. You could feel his steady breath fanning over your mouth, making your lips tingle with soul-burning want.

Why the hell were your lips tingling with want? Oh, god. Your face burned with a furious, internal heat as your eyes helplessly locked onto his mouth. Both of your chests heaved, brushing against one another in the water.

“I am not your real wife, Thor,” you breathed out, trying desperately to ground yourself. “I don’t need you touching me every five seconds—”

“I don’t need anyone here thinking you are available.”

“What?” you whispered, your heart giving a massive flutter against your ribs.

“Fake or not, Little Flame,” he growled softly, his blue eyes turning incredibly dark as his grip on your thighs tightened. “I am your fucking husband, and every man on this island will know it. I will make sure of it.”

He smirked, and before you could even process his words, he leaned in and pressed a firm, lingering kiss directly to your flushed cheek. You gasped in absolute shock, your skin scorching where his lips met your face. As he pulled back just a fraction, your noses brushed. You looked directly into his eyes, feeling yourself grow hotter and hotter and hotter—

“My honorary guests! You made it!”

A booming, boisterous voice suddenly erupted from above you. You both snapped your heads up, startled out of the suffocating bubble, and saw Alejandro Moretti himself standing on the pool deck. He was smiling down at the two of you, his arms spread wide in a grand, welcoming gesture.

You aggressively cleared your throat, your training forcing you to seamlessly recover. “Hello, Mr. Moretti. It's a pleasure to meet you,” you said, forcing a dazzling smile as you introduced yourself and extended a wet hand up toward the him.

He immediately took it, bowing his head slightly. “It is my absolute pleasure,” he said warmly. “You are the wife of the mighty Thor, after all!” He chuckled loudly, before turning his glowing gaze entirely back to Thor. “Big fan, man. Big fan.”

Moretti extended his hand toward him, and Thor took it, a wide, proud smile immediately breaking across his face because he was being praised. God, he absolutely loved being praised, didn't he?

Moretti started talking rapidly, listing off Thor’s various accomplishments while keeping a firm, enthusiastic grip on his hand. Rolling your eyes privately, you used the distraction to unwrap your legs from Thor's waist, pulling yourself off his torso and slipping back into the water.

The moment you detached yourself, Thor's hand snapped out, tightening firmly around your wrist. He immediately tore his attention away from Moretti, looking down at you. “Where are you going, sweetheart?”

The casual nickname made your entire stomach flutter dangerously.

“Gonna go dry off, honey,” you said, matching his energy as you pulled yourself up slightly to plant a swift, fake peck on his cheek. “Just a bit cold.”

“I will come with you,” Thor insisted immediately, his cheek burninh as his eyes tracking your movement.

“Ah, newlyweds,” Moretti chuckled fondly at the display, shaking his head. “Always so full of love, am I right?”

You gave him a dry, polite chuckle and quickly swam toward the pool steps to get out. As you and Thor stepped onto the stone deck, grabbing your towels, Moretti walked right alongside you, refusing to leave Thor’s side for even a single second. It was like he wanted Thor all to himself.

How can someone not want him, though? the thought involuntarily slipped into your mind.

You froze dead in your tracks, your towel clutched tightly in your hands as your own mind echoed back to you.

No. You did not want him. Certainly not. You didn't, you couldn't—

You closed your eyes, letting out a long, defeated sigh.

You fucking wanted him. And he could never know.

—

You were getting ready, painting a sharp, precise wing of black eyeliner over your eyelid as you desperately tried to keep yourself intact.

Moretti had invited the both of you to the exclusive resort party taking place tonight. Well, you were going to go either way for the sake of the mission, but he had explicitly invited you as his honorary guests.

After the you realizedthat you actually wanted Thor, you had started to see him in an entirely different light. You had felt physically nauseous by the fact that you wanted him, wanting nothing more than to run back to the villa to self-reflect and figure out exactly where your life had gone wrong. But he had not left you alone for a single second. The moment you had said you were going to the room, he had immediately gotten up and followed you back to the room. He had looked so genuinely caring while doing it, which only made an unwelcome swarm of butterflies erupt in your stomach. And the fact that he looked so so good—

Ugh, you were doing it again.

“Are you ready, Little Flame?” came Thor’s deep voice from behind the bathroom door.

You took one good look at yourself in the mirror, your gaze traveling down from your flawless makeup to the white midi dress that hugged your curves perfectly, down to your elegant heeled sandals. You looked hot. Absolutely lethal.

You swung the bathroom door open, only to be hit dead-on with the sight of him waiting in the foyer.

His lips parted, falling slightly agape as his eyes traveled over you, taking you in. His towering, formidable frame was clad in tailored cream linen trousers and a crisp white linen shirt, finished with beige loafers.

Your heart stopped dead in your chest. Was he actively trying to kill you? He was already breathtakingly handsome on a regular day, but the fact that he was dressing like that was doing completely unspeakable things to your sanity.

Thor felt the air brutally ripped from his lungs the exact second you emerged. His blue eyes aggressively roamed over your face, your sharp eyeliner, and the way the white dress accentuated your flawless form. Now, why the hell did you have to look like this and still have the absolute audacity to hate him?

His breathing became distinctly ragged, his eyes darkening to a stormy, dangerous hue as the possessive thought of other men witnessing your beauty tonight overtook his mind. But he forced his muscles to relax as he reminded himself that this hotel was strictly full of wealthy couples. It was fine. You were anchored to him. Right?

“Let’s go, big guy,” you said, averting your gaze in absolute panic as you brushed past his broad shoulder and made your way out of the villa.

Thor’s eyebrows shot up in utter bewilderment. He stood frozen for a second before turning to follow you out onto the stone path closing the door behind him, his voice clearly dripping with a deep, rumbling amusement. “Big guy?”

Your face burned a scorching, furious hot at your own slip of the tongue. You usually never called him anything other than petty names specifically engineered to irritate him, so what the fuck was that now?

“You... are massive. And a man?” you stammered out, desperately trying to make light of the situation as you walked ahead of him, your heels clicking sharply.

“Hm,” Thor just grunted behind you. You couldn't see his face, but you could hear the triumphant smile in his voice as the two of you made your way down toward dinner.

The revelation that you were actually attracted to him was making you go completely crazy, and you were already fucking it all up. Your brain was entirely short-circuiting over how mind-numbingly handsome he looked in that white linen shirt, and calling him big guy of all things was proof that you were losing your edge. All through dinner, you were on high alert, desperately trying to hide your lingering glimpses toward his muscular arms and his stupidly handsome face, praying he wouldn't notice the sudden shift in your behavior.

Dinner itself had been an exercise in damage control. Thor had absolutely loved the food, boisterously shouting “Another!” to the waitstaff every time he finished a plate, leaving you to look at the waiters with highly apologetic eyes. You had quickly smoothed it over, telling them with a charming laugh how incredibly enthusiastic your husband was about their exquisite cuisine. Far from being offended, the staff had been completely fascinated by Thor, even asking for his signature—though the poor guys couldn't take any pictures due to the resort's strict high-society privacy policy.

Once dinner was finally over, you made your way to the actual party.

The bass from the music blasted your ears off the second you walked through the entrance. Thor’s heavy hand was firmly circled around your waist, gluing you to his side as you looked around the crowded open-air venue. You bit your lip, doing everything in your power to mask your fastened heartbeat and the slight panic tracing your expression. To maintain the doting newlyweds facade, your own arm was stretched across Thor’s broad back.

And god, how magnificent that back was. Through the thin linen of his shirt, you could feel the solid, dangerous planes of his muscles right beneath your palm. It made you wonder, in a rogue, intrusive thought, if you could paint that flawless skin red with your nails, leaving little scratches down his—

oh my god, shut up, girl, you fiercely scolded yourself in your mind, your face flashing a blistering hot.

As you walked deeper into the VIP section toward Alejandro Moretti’s table, you spotted Valentin right next to him.

The exact millisecond Valentin came into view, you could feel every single muscle in Thor’s body tense up beneath your hand. Pure instinct took over, you gave the small of his back a soft, deliberate little squeeze, a silent warning to stay grounded.

The touch made Thor instantly look down at you, his blue eyes full of an intense, sweeping emotion you couldn't quite name. Your mind raced. Why the fuck were you trying to calm him down? And why the hell was he getting so intensely tense in the first place?

“Don’t make a scene,” you whispered fiercely up to him, looking at him through your lashes as you kept your voice strictly beneath the thumping bass.

“Do not make me make a scene,” he grumbled back, his deep voice heavily unpleased as his grip on your waist tightened.

Alejandro Moretti immediately got up from his leather booth the moment he saw you approach. “Ah! Here they are!” he announced loudly, his arms thrown wide open in a grand greeting.

Thor smiled brightly, his deep, booming laugh filling your ears as he stepped forward to enthusiastically embrace the billionaire, playing the part of the larger-than-life husband a little too well. You let out a bright, airy laugh right on cue, looking up at them as you seamlessly executed the role of the loving, supportive wife.

From across the table, Valentin was staring directly at you, a confident, knowing smirk pulling at his lips.

Alejandro turned proudly to his younger brother, gesturing toward the two of you. “My guests of honor, Valentin! This is Thor, and his lovely wife.”

Valentin’s dark eyebrows furrowed in immediate confusion. “Thor?”

“Yes! The God of Thunder!” Alejandro chuckled heartily, totally oblivious to the shift in the air as he gestured for everyone to sit down.

The arrogant smirk was instantly wiped entirely off Valentin’s face. He stood frozen, likely wondering how the hell he hadn't recognized the literal Avenger at the pool bar earlier.

“Ah,” Valentin cleared his throat, cautiously extending his hand across the table, even as Thor threw absolute, unyielding daggers at him with his icy gaze. “My pleasure.”

Thor’s lips pulled into a wide, bright smile as he reached out and took Valentin’s hand. But you knew that exact smile entirely too well—it was the predatory, sharp-edged smile he regularly threw at you whenever you managed to annoy him to death in public. It was the smile of a Thor who was profoundly angry, masking his rage with a lethally graceful diplomacy.

His godlike grip must have tightened a fraction too much around Valentin’s fingers, because the smug playboy’s face instantly grimaced in pain, his knuckles turning white under the force of the god’s hand.

You tapped lightly on Thor’s elbow, giving him a subtle, pointed signal to let go before he completely pulverized the man's hand. He finally released his grip, though his blue eyes continued to burn right through Valentin, his other arm instantly wrapping tight around your waist again to pull you back into his orbit.

You went to sit down in the plush leather booth, but Thor deliberately shuffled his massive frame, placing himself directly between you and Valentin to completely block the playboy's line of sight. You rolled your eyes privately. He was obviously being this intensely possessive because the entire resort had to believe you were blissfully married, but he was playing the part a little too well for your sanity.

Alejandro, ever the fanboy, was visibly disappointed by the seating arrangement—he was now sitting on your other side instead of right next to the God of Thunder—but he stopped himself from saying anything to avoid offending his royal guest.

So began the endless praises for Thor.

“I must say, King Thor, having you here at the Sanctuary is a historic honor!” Alejandro beamed, gesturing for a waiter to pour more whiskey. “The stories of your victories on Earth, the Battle of New York, the triumph over Malekith... truly spectacular! A god walking among mortals!”

Thor smiled brightly, his booming laugh easily cutting through the lounge music as his arm remained locked securely around your waist, his thumb lazily stroking your side through the fabric of your dress. “Ah, you are too kind, Alejandro! But a King must protect the realms. The battle against the Dark Elves was indeed a fierce one, requiring absolute precision and power.”

As he spoke the word precision, Thor casually leaned back, his icy gaze flicking past you to check if Valentin was looking at you. Finding Valentin’s eyes darting toward your bare shoulders, Thor’s grip on your waist tightened possessively, his jaw clenching as he seamlessly continued his story. “We had to secure ancient, dangerous technologies to ensure they never fell into the wrong hands. It takes a truly formidable force to handle such secrets.”

“Incredible,” Alejandro said, hanging on his every word. “And to manage such cosmic feats while keeping a beautiful wife by your side!”

“She is my greatest anchor,” Thor murmured, his deep voice dropping into a low tone as he turned his head to look down at you. His eyes searched your face with a burning, unreadable intensity that made your heart skip a violent beat. “No matter how chaotic the universe becomes, she is the only one who can truly command my attention.”

You gulped, your eyes helplessly searching his face, desperately trying to read the heavy gravity in his expression. But before you could decipher it, a question cut through the air—one you should have anticipated much sooner.

“So, how did you two meet?” Valentin asked, his voice smooth as he leaned forward. His dark eyes actively tried to find your frame past Thor's broad shoulders, but Thor was absolutely wiping you from his sight, shifting his weight to keep you entirely hidden.

Your blood ran cold. A sudden wave of panic rushed through you, and as you snapped your eyes to Thor, you saw the exact same flash of panic mirrored in his blue eyes. You had never rehearsed a backstory.

“I saw him—” you began hastily, just as Thor started, “We saw each other—”

Your voices mixed awkwardly over the thumping bass of the music. Alejandro looked between the two of you expectantly, his eyebrows raised.

You quickly forced a light, melodic laugh, covering the slip-up as you spoke over each other. Tilting your head up, you offered Thor a brilliant, adoring smile. “My husband should tell you about this one. He’s a real good storyteller, aren't you, darling?” You squeezed his shoulder, your fingers digging into his shirt.

Thor’s hold tightened around your waist, his thumb pressing firmly into your side. “I must let you take over this one, my dear. Your perspective is far more enchanting.”

“I insist,” you said, your voice dripping sweet as honey, though you locked eyes with him in a silent, lethal challenge. You knew pushing the spotlight onto him annoyed him to his absolute core.

“Very well,” he grumbled under his breath, leaning back into the booth. He cleared his throat, his posture shifting into something commanding. Valentin had slid over a bit to the side of the table, desperate to finally see you both, his sharp eyes intensely dissecting the two of you for any cracks in the facade.

“We met years ago, when she was first recruited to the team,” Thor began, his deep baritone rumbling through his chest. He paused, his blue eyes dropping down to look at you, the heavy lounge music suddenly fading into absolute background noise. “I saw her walk into the room. A beautiful woman. Truly, the most breathtaking creature I had ever laid my eyes upon.”

You looked up at him, fully expecting to see a detached, calculated look in his eyes—the face of a soldier executing a calculated lie. But your heart slammed against your ribs. You were shaken to your core at the raw, truthful look in his gaze. Your breath hitched, turning ragged in your chest.

He chuckled softly, the sound low and intimate, as if he had completely forgotten Alejandro and Valentin were even sitting across from them. “But she looked like she had dark, stormy clouds swarming all over her. She was so heavily guarded. So, my brain short-circuited, and I called her gloomy.”

Alejandro’s eyes widened, a grin breaking across his face. “No way!”

Your jaw clenched as the vivid memory made your blood boil all over again. Why the fuck was he telling them what actually happened?

“I know, I shouldn't have,” Thor murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. His gaze was burning into you, scorching you with a look that made your skin prickle. “But seeing her face... my mind simply stopped working. That was the only thing I could utter. And do you know what she did?” He looked over at Alejandro, a genuine, fond smile pulling at his lips. “She didn't cower. She didn't stay silent. She yelled at me. She marched right up to my face and screamed about what a massive, insufferable asshole I was.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in deep, defensive confusion. Wht was he chuckling about that? He had hated you for it.

“She was the first woman to ever yell at me like that, without a single shred of fear, without holding back an ounce of her fire,” Thor said, his voice a raspy register, thick with a devotion that felt terrifyingly real. He reached down, his large hand gently cupping the side of your face, his thumb softly tracing your cheekbone. The tender touch sent a violent jolt of electricity straight down your spine. “That’s when I realized... right there, in the middle of her fury. That’s when I realized she was the love of my life.”

You gulped, your hands clenching into tight fists against your lap. The air was brutally ripped from your lungs. You literally couldn't breathe under the sheer weight of his stare. He was looking down at you as if you were the most precious, sacred thing he had ever been allowed to hold.

“Then, I chased her for years,” Thor continued smoothly, finally tearing his gaze away from your frozen face to smile at Alejandro. “Trying to get her to agree to a single date. I brought flowers to her quarters every single day, trying to melt the ice. She finally caved in after a while... and here we are.”

Thor cleared his throat letting go of your face and adjusting his shirt as Alejandro let out a captivated sigh.

Your gaze remained completely stuck on the line of Thor's neck, your mind spinning in absolute confusion. He had sounded so entirely sincere when he described your beauty. The way he explained falling in love with your fire, it sounded like poetry.

He isn't in love with you, a harsh, grounding voice violently intervened in your mind. He is lying through his teeth to save the mission. He made it all up. You desperately tried to pull yourself together, reciting the mantra over and over: He hates you. He has hated you for years.

But as you sat there, enveloped in the heat of his massive body, a sharp ache bloomed deep in your chest at the reminder of his hatred.

Why did your chest ache at his hatred towards you? And why did it hurt so bad?

“That is just beautiful,” Alejandro breathed, raising his glass in a toast. “A match made in the heavens, truly.”

You swallowed the thick lump in your throat, forcefully shaking the daze out of your head. Forcing your muscles to relax, you put on a flawless, dazzling smile for show, leaning deeper into your fake husband's side while your heart shattered quietly into a million pieces.

The subject changed then, Alejandro and Thor talking about other things while Thor gave you occasional little pecks on your cheek, his lips lingering just enough to keep your heart beating frantically in your mouth.

“Why haven't you two kissed?” Valentin asked suddenly, his voice sharply cutting through the conversation of the two men. His dark eyes roamed all over your face, calculating and deeply skeptical.

What?

Thor turned toward him immediately, his posture shifting into something lethal. “What do you mean, mortal? I’ve been doing nothing but kiss her since we sat down.” His blue eyes narrowed into dangerous slits at Valentin.

“You keep kissing her on her cheeks. Why not on the lips?” Valentin pushed, his gaze sharp and dissecting.

Thor’s gaze darkened to absolute midnight. “It is not your place to ask such questions.”

The playboy had been watching you far too closely; you should’ve seen this one coming. Valentin leaned back, a smug, accusatory grin slowly returning to his face. “You’re acting like you’re pretending—”

Your heart stopped dead in your chest.

“Do not speak one more word, mortal,” Thor spoke, his deep voice dropping an octave as he raised a single, threatening finger.

Alejandro’s expression changed instantly. He looked at his brother with sudden seriousness, his tone sharp. “Leave our guests alone, Val.” But then, Alejandro’s eyes dropped down to the floor for a split second, as if he were mentally calculating something. He turned back toward you, his brow furrowing. “But... he is right. Why haven't you kissed her?”

Your heart started beating faster and faster, a wave of ice-cold panic rushing to your fingertips. Your cover was about to be completely blown right here in the VIP section. Thor’s gaze darkened even further, clearly unpleased and deeply tense at being questioned. This was not good. You had to do something, and you had to do it right now.

“She is my wife—” Thor started angrily, but you smoothly interfered.

With an effortless, confident laugh, you dismissed the two brothers with a casual wave of your hand, acting as if they were nothing more than little, annoying flies. Your left hand found Thor’s massive bicep as you elegantly crossed your legs, slanting them directly over his thick thighs.

Responding to the sudden contact, Thor's arm instinctively wrapped around your back, his eyes snapping down to look at you immediately. What were you doing?

“My husband and I are very passionate,” you said, your voice dripping with a sultry, unbothered confidence as your hand trailed seductively over the broad expanse of his chest. “We try to keep the PDA to a minimum so we don't make people uncomfortable. Should we show them, honey?”

You looked completely unshakable, but inside, your heart was threatening to leap straight out of your chest. The skin of your legs burned where your thighs were glued to his.

Thor’s chest heaved tightly beneath your fingers as you looked up at him through your lashes. His heart missed a beat at the breathtaking sight of you in his lap. Fuck. You both knew exactly what had to be done right now, or the entire mission was over.

Thor’s large hand found the back of your neck, his fingers tightening securely. “Music to my fucking ears, darling,” he growled.

And then, he claimed your lips in an instant. The force of the impact took the remaining breath right out of your lungs. Your left hand instinctively grabbed the back of his neck, your fingers anchoring into his skin, while your other hand remained flat against his heaving chest. Your mouths moved in tandem, a low, helpless sigh of contentment pouring from your throat straight into the kiss. Your head tilted to the side, completely surrendering to the heat.

His right hand on your back slid downward to your waist, grabbing you with an iron, desperate tightness, as if he never intended to let you go for the rest of his immortal life. His other hand moved from the back of your neck up to your head, his thick fingers tangling aggressively through your hair, tilting your face up by giving a firm, sudden tug on your hair. You gasped into his mouth, your teeth sharply biting his lower lip in response. Thor let out a low grunt, his kisses instantly becoming more fervent, deeper, and completely unhinged. You were drowning in him.

Next to you, Alejandro and Valentin looked at each other, their faces flushing as they clearly regretted ever opening their mouths. They were visibly uncomfortable—good. They deserved to be, so they would never question a single thing about the two of you again.

He was entirely consuming you, and gods, was he liking it. He felt the soft circle of your thumb over the nape of his neck, sending a violent wave of chills straight down his spine. You tasted sweet—sweeter than any other lips he had ever tasted in his thousand years of life. Thor licked at the seam of your lips once, a non-verbal command motioning for you to open up for him. You tried to fight it for a split second, a last shred of self-preservation, but he forcefully made you part them by giving your lower lip another sharp bite and executing a firm tug on your hair.

You gasped, your chest heaving against his as he glided his tongue over yours. He was so good at this. So fucking good that you completely forgot where you were, forgot the mission, forgot anyone else existed besides him. He tugged tightly on your waist, trying to pull your body even closer into his mass, but you were already entirely glued to him, his radiating heat burning straight through your side.

Alejandro loudly cleared his throat, but you both kept on going like there was no tomorrow, still kissing him with a desperate, hidden hunger, as if you knew you would never get the chance to hold him like this ever again.

“Okay. We get it,” Valentin muttered, his voice clearly irritated and completely full of deep regret.

Thor let out a heavy grunt, finally parting his lips from yours. A thin, glistening string of saliva formed between your lips before breaking in the dim light. You looked up at him, your eyes completely dazed over, your hair beautifully messed up from his heavy hand, and your lips visibly swollen and red. He stared down at you, his own lips flushed and his pupils blown incredibly wide as his chest rose and fell in ragged breaths.

Taking a shallow breath, you slowly turned your head toward the other two men, a wicked, victorious smile pulling at your lips. “See?” you said.

You tried not to give away how much his kiss had affected you, but you knew you were a fucking mess. Your heart was threatening to leap out of your chest, your lungs heaving fast as you gulped, desperately trying to calm yourself down. How the hell did he affect you this much?

And he was still holding you, his arm wrapped incredibly tight around your waist as he kept looking down at you. His own broad chest was heaving hard as he fought a losing battle to get himself back under control.

It was just a damn kiss for the mission. He shouldn't be this completely unhinged by it. But he felt his pulse fasten more and more the longer he sat there. You had kissed him. You—the bane of his very existence, the woman who had spent years yelling at him and riling him up—had kissed him, and he had liked it. He had liked it so much that a dark, primitive part of his mind wanted nothing more than to drag you right back to his lips, to kiss you heavily until you were breathless, and to roam his hands all over your bare skin, thats all—nothing big really.

He fucking wanted you, and it was nothing big—who was he kidding? It was probably the biggest newsflash in his entire thousand-year lifetime. He wanted you so much that he felt it shaking the very foundations of his immortal soul.

I want her, his mind echoed fiercely. I want her, I want to consume her, I want to be completely consumed by her.

Thor averted his eyes toward the table, his jaw locking. Fuck. How the hell did this happen?

“Yes, we get it, damn,” Alejandro said, breaking the heavy silence with a loud laugh, holding his hands up in surrender.

Valentin, however, was a completely different story. His dark, calculating gaze was still locked dead on your face, intensely trying to decipher the lingering daze in your eyes, trying to see if there was still a crack in the armor—if he could keep on pursuing you.

You noticed his stare immediately, your eyes locking onto his. A sharp jolt of reality hit you. You were sitting in Thor's lap, your thighs crossed over his, kissed by him so thoroughly that your mind had gone entirely blank. You had completely forgotten about your objective.

The codes. You needed the damn digital decryption keys.

You had told Thor earlier that you would handle Valentin tomorrow, but after the possessive display he had just put on, he would clearly find a way to interfere if you tried to flirt with the man tomorrow. It had to be tonight. It had to happen right now under the cover of this party.

Your mind rapidly formulated a plan: you had to first find a way to get away from Thor, corner Valentin alone at the bar, seduce him, and slip a few drops of truth serum into his whiskey glass to extract the server access codes.

It was a perfect, textbook assassin execution. But as you sat there, feeling the heavy, protective weight of Thor's hand on your hip, you realized something. You didn't want to leave the comfort of Thor's embrace.

Oh, how thoroughly, hopelessly fucked you were.

You had to get it together. Bracing yourself, you tried lifting your legs off Thor’s lap, but the exact second you shifted, his iron hold on your waist tightened. His eyebrows furrowed into a hard line, and his questioning, blazing blue gaze snapped up to lock onto yours. He didn’t say a word, but the look in his eyes was loudly demanding to know exactly where the hell you thought you were going.

Why was he acting like this? Why was he looking at you as if that kiss had completely unhinged him just as much as it had affected you?

You helplessly looked into his eyes, your gaze involuntarily dropping down to his swollen lips before snapping back up to his stare. “I’m just going to the bar,” you murmured.

“I’ll come with you,” he said immediately. His deep voice carried a rough, unyielding edge, his instincts focusing entirely on one single objective: keep that vile mortal fucker as far away from you as humanly possible.

“No!—” you scrambled out, a little too desperately, before quickly forcing a soft, reassuring smile to maintain the act. “I’ll be back in a second, honey. It’s okay.”

This felt devastatingly real. He looked genuinely jealous, his possessive aura radiating off him in suffocating waves.

“She can go alone, my friend. I own this entire establishment; nothing could possibly happen to her here,” Alejandro intervened with a booming laugh, reassuring the tense god.

Taking the opening, you carefully slipped out of Thor’s tight grip and stood up. The sudden lack of his heavy hands and burning heat against your skin left you feeling instantly cold, a sudden pang of withdrawal hitting you in the chest. You stubbornly ignored it. Catching Valentin’s eye across the table, you held his gaze for a few seconds longer than any happily married woman ever should, throwing him a subtle, inviting tilt of your head before turning on your heel and making your way toward the crowded bar—finally out of Thor’s direct line of sight.

You knew Valentin would make up a pathetic excuse to follow you within minutes. Arriving at the bar, you caught the bartender’s attention. “A virgin mojito, please,” you ordered smoothly. You were a professional; you were absolutely not going to consume a single drop of alcohol while on an active extraction mission.

You waited for a few minutes, slowly sipping on your refreshing mocktail while keeping your perimeter scan active. Right on cue, a smooth, arrogant voice slithered in next to your ear.

“I take it you didn’t look at me like that back there just to have a drink all by yourself?”

Valentin slid onto the barstool right next to you, his eyes brimming with a smug, predatory confidence.

A slow, practiced smirk pulled at your lips as you gracefully turned your upper body toward him, leaning one elbow against the counter. “I don’t think I get what you mean, Valentin.”

“Don’t play innocent. It’s not a good look on you,” he murmured, his eyes boldly dropping down to the neckline of your dress before rising back to your face. “Though, I must admit... I really like this whole going-around-his-back thing. A dangerous woman gets me thrilled.”

“Hm,” you mumbled, your smile becoming as beautiful and lethal as a viper's. You leaned in a fraction closer into his personal space, letting your voice drop into a sultry, confidential whisper. “Are you just going to stand there talking, or are you gonna have a drink with me?”

Valentin’s smirk widened, completely intoxicated by the sudden green light. “I could never say no to a woman like you.” He immediately raised a hand to the bartender. “Get me a double Macallan, neat.”

As the bartender turned around to pour the amber liquor, you covertly slid your right hand into the small, hidden pocket built into the lining of your white midi dress. Your fingertips brushed against the tiny, cold glass vial containing S.H.I.E.L.D.-issued truth serum—colorless, odorless, and fast-acting.

The bartender placed the heavy crystal whiskey glass right in front of Valentin.

“You know,” you purred, deliberately reaching across Valentin's chest to grab a small bowl of nuts from the opposite side of his stool. The intentional movement forced your bare shoulder to brush heavily against his chest, completely breaking his concentration as his eyes locked onto your neck.

With a fluid, invisible grace, your thumb flicked the cap off the vial. As your arm crossed over his open whiskey glass, you seamlessly dropped three drops of the serum directly into the amber liquid.

You pulled back, placing the bowl between you with an innocent, dazzling smile. “A toast. To private tastings.”

“To private tastings,” Valentin echoed darkly, completely oblivious. He picked up the crystal glass and took a massive, confident gulp of the whiskey, swallowing the serum down in one smooth motion.

You counted the seconds in your head. Three. Two. One.

Almost instantly, Valentin’s posture relaxed a fraction too much. The sharp, predatory spark in his eyes suddenly dulled into a slight, hazy glaze, his blinking slowing down as the neural inhibitors rapidly flooded his system, forcing his vocal cords to lose all capacity for deception.

Your smirk turned razor-sharp. It was time to get to work.

“Valentin,” you whispered, leaning in so close your breath brushed his ear, masking your interrogation beneath the thumping bass of the party. “Let’s talk about your brother’s collection. Where are the digital decryption keys for the Dark Elf technology stored?”

Valentin’s jaw loosened, his voice coming out completely flat, devoid of its previous arrogant inflection. “The main encryption drive stays locked in the master server vault... sub-level two of the main villa compound. Hold on why are you asking me th—”

“And how do I bypass the biometric firewall?” you cut him off before he could think.

“The security bypass code changes every twelve hours,” Valentin droned automatically, his hand resting limply against the counter.

“Mhm, and what is it lets say... tomorrow night?” you pushed seamlessly, your eyes locked onto his dazed face.

“Tomorrow night's terminal override sequence for the vault is... Alpha-Niner-Seven-X-Ray-Delta.”

Bingo.

Your brain instantly memorized the alphanumeric sequence, a cold, triumphant rush of adrenaline flooding your veins. You had the codes for tomorrow. The entire mission could be wrapped up in less than three days, just like you wanted. You could finally leave this godforsaken resort, get away from this cover, and most importantly—get away from the dangerous, addictive pull of the God of Thunder.

Valentin pouted as he looked at you, his eyes glassy and confused under the weight of the serum. "But why are you asking me all th—"

“I have to go, dear,” you cut him off quickly, placing a hand on his bicep and giving it a soothing squeeze to keep him compliant.

But his hand snapped up, gripping your arm to keep you from pulling away. “No, you can't leave. I had plans for us tonight...”

“No plans for us today,” you cooed, lowering your voice to a soft, hypnotic purr as you playfully booped his nose. He pouted even more at the gesture. You mentally rolled your eyes, already looking back toward the crowded VIP booth to check on Thor.

“But I wanted to fuck you—“

You whipped your head back toward Valentin so fast you thought you were going to get whiplash. But before you could even react to his crude words, he was brutally cut off.

A massive hand descended from the shadows like a falling meteor, wrapping entirely around the back of Valentin’s head and fiercely slamming his face straight down onto the marble counter.

Crack.

You gasped, your eyes blowing wide. Nearby guests screamed and immediately scrambled away, completely shocked by the sudden, violent ordeal. Valentin let out a pathetic, muffled groan as a dark stream of red instantly started dripping down his nostrils, pooling on the counter.

Thor held him pinned there, his massive hand basically covering most of Valentin's skull. You were so damn sure that if he applied just a fraction more pressure, he would crush the man's head like a ripe grape.

“You do not talk to my wife like that,” Thor growled, his voice a vibrating rumble that shook the very foundation of the bar.

“Thor, stop it!” you panicked, your hands desperately finding his rigid bicep, trying to pull his arm back.

Muffled against the stone, Valentin let out a wet, dizzy chuckle, the serum making him completely reckless. “Well, god-man... your wife lured me here—“

Slam.

Thor violently cracked his head against the counter a second time.

“I told you not to make a scene, didn't I?!”you yelled at the top of your lungs over the blasting music, frantically pulling at his arm to stop him from committing murder.

Thor slowly turned his head to look down at you. His blue eyes were completely blown with an unhinged, primitive rage. “I told you not to make me make one, did I not?!” he yelled back, his booming voice completely overriding the bass of the blasting lounge music.

You involuntarily flinched at the volume and raw power of his voice. You let out a sharp, furious huff, tore your hands off his arm, and turned around to bolt.

“Where do you think you're going?!” he demanded loudly.

He finally let go of Valentin, leaving theman to groan and slump heavily against the bar as you made your way out of the party. Every single eye of the high-society couples was locked onto you, whispering in terror as you stormed past.

“Stop!” Thor yelled after you, his heavy footsteps echoing right behind you, but your steps only fastened into a dead sprint.

You practically flew down the dark, stone paths of the resort, making your way back to the secluded villa. There wasn't a single soul around out here.

“I told you to stop!” he yelled again, his massive strides easily closing the distance as he caught up to you just as you reached the front door.

“And I told you to behave!” you screamed back, throwing the door open and slamming it behind you, desperately trying to force the heavy wood to lock on his face.

But you failed miserably.

“And I told you to stay away from him!” Thor yelled, forcing the door open without a single shred of effort—it was probably like flicking away a fly for him—before he aggressively slammed it shut behind him, sealing the two of you inside the tense silence of the villa.

“Why do you care?!” you yelled, throwing your arms up in the air as you spun around to face him, your face burning hot from rage.

“Why did you defy what I told you?” he pushed, stepping heavily into your personal space, his towering chest heaving.

“Because you are my mission partner, not my superior!”you shrieked, the built-up frustration of the last few hours completely boiling over. “God! You and your insufferable superiority complex!” You yelled again, aggressively turning your back to him to get away from his presence, making a beeline toward the open balcony doors.

“Do not walk away from me!” Thor roared.

In two quick strides, he crossed the room. His hand locked firmly around your wrist, his grip unyielding but careful not to break you, as he yanked you back and turned you around to face him dead-on.

You opened your mouth to say something, but all words completely left you as you noticed how your noses were inches away, your breathing fastening to a panicked, ragged rhythm as you looked up at him. His chest was heaving just like yours, the sheer mass of him completely crowding you into the balcony's door. You just gulped, your eyes helplessly finding his lips again before you forced your gaze up to meet his intense stare.

“Why are you acting like you actually care?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly, your eyes filled with deep questioning. His eyes, which were locked onto your lips, finally flicked up to look directly into your eyes. He gulped, a muscle tightening in his jaw as he flatly lied, “I don’t.” He averted his eyes immediately after.

He cared. He fucking cared so much, but he could not let you know.

You scoffed loudly at his terrible deflection. “What’s all this then? You’ve been acting so strange since we got here—” His eyes snapped right back to yours, flashing with a sudden heat. “Oh, like you haven’t!” he said, his iron grip on your wrist tightening just a bit.

“What?” you gaped, your mouth forming a perfect 'O' shape at his audacity. “The nerve of you! I have been acting completely normal!” You aggressively tried to push against his heavy chest to create some distance, but it was like trying to shove a solid brick wall; it was not working.

“Have you, though?” he challenged. His head tilted slightly to the side as he looked down at you, his towering frame completely casting you in shadow. “You’ve been trying to avoid me ever since we arrived. Mind you, we are supposed to be husband and wife here, and instead of me, you kept throwing yourself into the arms of that bastard—”

“Excuse me for acting exactly like I should while we are on a high-stakes mission—”

“Is this how you act while you are on a mission?” he fiercely cut you off. He took a heavy, deliberate step forward, crowding you so completely that you were forced to push your back straight into the balcony door, the glass cool against your skin. His expression morphed into one of deep distaste—like the mere thought of you acting exactly like this on other operations disturbed him to his very bone.

“Not at all, Thor,” you muttered, finally averting your eyes as a wave of genuine discomfort washed over your face. “But I occasionally do have to seduce men here and there. It’s not a big deal—”

His thick eyebrows furrowed deeply. Before you could turn your face away completely, his large hand came up, his fingers gently but firmly catching your chin to force you to look at him. “Not a big deal? Is someone making you seduce them? There are other ways to extract information—” he started, his deep tone initially angry but quickly softening with a rare, unexpected touch of sympathy.

You swallowed hard against the lump in your throat. “Thor, I have been trained this way. And your ways are always too loud—”

“Who the fuck trained you like this?” he growled, the symapthy instantly vanishing into a dark, protective fury. “How many times have you done this, huh?”

Your own eyebrows furrowed in a defensive shield. His entire ftame was looming over you, completely clouding your thoughts and making it hard to think straight. You reached up, removing his hand from your face. “That is absolutely none of your business—”

His entire posture changed as the anger morphed into a heavy gravity. His eyes dropped to your arms first then followed to your midriff before snapping back to your face. “Who gave you those scars?”

“What?” Your eyes widened in pure horror, the air instantly taken right out of your lungs. This cannot be happening, your voice echoed inside your mind. He could not know. You could not let him see that vulnerable, broken piece of your past. “Thor, this is ridiculous. Let me go—”

You tried pushing him away again, your chest heaving in absolute desperation to break free from his hold. But he only used his mass to pin you into the door even more, his gaze intensely determined as his hand found your jaw once again, holding you still.

He was going to find out who those fuckers were, and he was going to make them pay. He didn't fully understand why he had this overwhelming, primitive urge to protect you, but he did, and he was going to deliver on it.

“Please, Little Flame,” he murmured, his voice dropping into a desperate plea. “Are they the same people who trained you?—”

“Why do you even want to know?!” you cried out, your voice finally cracking with deep pain. Tears instantly began brewing in your eyes, blurring his handsome face. He couldn't know. If he found out, he was going to use that knowledge against you. He was going to taunt you with it during your next argument, break you with your own nightmare of a history. He was going to make sure he hurt you, just like he did every single time he managed to get a glimpse of something personal about you. He was going to break your heart completely in half and toss it away.

He was going to, because he was the only person in the universe who actually had the power to do it.

“So you can torture me more?” you whispered, your voice shaking as a single tear escaped down your cheek.

Thor’s breath got caught in his throat. A sudden, physical pain pierced his chest, wrapping around his heart so tightly that he let out a sharp huff of air. It was a pain so great, so profoundly agonizing, that it started burning through his lungs before radiating all the way out to his fingertips.

Is this truly what you thought of him?

He knew he taunted you. He knew he did everything in his being to annoy you on a daily basis. He knew he wasn't your friend, and that you both claimed to dislike each other. But he had never, in his wildest dreams, thought you could actually think him capable of causing you real, deep-rooted pain.

A fierce, protective fire burned brightly behind his blue eyes as he leaned down, his lips practically brushing your temple as he spoke.

“So that I can torture them first as they did you,” he vowed, his voice low, terrifyingly dark promise that vibrated against your skin. “And then permanently remove them from existence.”

Your angelic face twisted into a look of deep, utter confusion. What the hell was he talking about? Why on Earth would he want to do something like that for you?

Thor’s hand softened on your jaw, his thumb gently wiping away the tear on your cheek with a heartbreaking amount of tenderness. He looked down at you, his pupils blown wide with an unyielding devotion. “No... I have a better idea. I am going to tear down whatever sanctuary they think they have, drag them to the deepest pits of Hel myself, and hand-deliver a punishment that will last for eternity. No one touches you, Little Flame. Never again.”

Your heart stuttered at his words, newfound tears completely blocking your vision now at being on the receiving end of them. He sounded so profoundly sincere, so entirely full of devotion that it made your stomach flutter wildly and your heart sing with a bittersweet ecstasy.

Why was he being this protective over you? Was it just because of your mission? Has he started to actually believe the lie, to believe you were truly his wife? And why did you believe every single word he said without an ounce of your usual skepticism?

How was he making your heart soar like this? Why did he have so much power over you, over your poor, guarded heart? Why did he have to be this perfect?

Why did you love him so much?

You gasped aloud as the intrusive thought took the remaining breath away from your lungs. You loved him. You were completely, undeniably in love with him. You were in love with the man who mocked you, annoyed you, tortured you with his words. You were in love with the man you claimed to dislike for all these years.

And that realization only made you cry harder, the tears spilling over your lashes because you were entirely convinced he was never going to love you back.

“I—” you started, trying to find your voice, but a heavy, broken sob ripped through your chest instead.

Thor's face immediately fell into an expression of deep, agonizing concern. His blue eyes searched your face frantically as he wrapped his massive arms around you, pulling you securely against his broad chest.

“Please do not cry, honey,” he murmured, his deep baritone cracking in pain.

He called you honey. He called you honey in private, in the quiet safety of your shared room, while holding you as if you were made of glass. It was so sweet, so tender, so full of an unprompted meaning. What on earth had happened to the two of you? Just hours ago, you were bitterly bickering about your morning coffee, but now you were collapsed in his arms, crying simply because he wanted to protect you.

Nobody did that for you. Nobody had ever said they would protect you, because they always expected you to handle it yourself. They knew what you were capable of; they knew you were lethal.

Nobody ever thought you would need someone else to do your bidding for you.

His large hand moved to the back of your head, his thick fingers gently stroking through your hair as he spoke, his voice dropping into a raspy whisper. “Darling, are you crying because of me?” He swallowed hard, his voice cracking again. “Do you truly think I mean to harm you? Do you think so little of me?”

You sobbed, your fingers clutching desperately onto the fabric of his shirt, burying your face into his chest.

“I’m begging you, do not cry,” he gulped, his own chest heaving as he held you tighter. “It... it hurts me.”

“I had been nothing but a laboratory experiment to them,” you finally choked out, the confession tearing out of your throat.

Thor froze instantly, his entire muscular body stiffening beneath your touch.

Slowly, you tilted your head up, your chin resting against his chest. Your lashes were damp with heavy tears that still kept falling silently down your cheeks. Thor’s hand gently cupped your face, his thumb catching the moisture, his eyes entirely locked onto yours as he listened with a quiet focus.

“They didn’t see a young woman,” you whispered, your throat tightening painfully as your grip on his shirt tightened. “They only saw a lab rat. A nameless object to be broken, tested, and rebuilt. I remember the cold steel of the table. I remember begging and begging... crying until my eyes bled, but they just kept on going.”

Thor’s blue eyes darkened into a midnight so black it looked like a brewing storm. A terrifying rage formed deep within him—a rage so massive and destructive that he felt he could destroy all of humanity just to see the lingering pain disappear from your eyes.

“Who are they?” He demanded, and your eyes closed in despair.

Should you tell him? Should you let him be a part of the darkest corners of your past?

Should you trust him?

“Darling, please tell me,” he begged, his voice trembling with a restrained fury as he looked down at you. “Who did this to you?”

Your throat tightened, your pulse fluttering at his gentle words and protective tone. You sighed opening your eyes, “They were a faction I later discovered to be the vile, lingering remnants of Hydra.”

Thor saw pure red. His throat tightened to the point of suffocation at the horrific image of you at the mercy of those monsters—being tortured, crying, entirely helpless.

“I need names,” he growled softly, the air in the room turning heavy with static.

“I don’t have names—”

“I will find names.”

“I don't know if you can, Thor, it was years—”

“I will,” he cut you off, his tone leaving absolutely no room for argument. He brought his other hand to your cheek, tilting your face up just a fraction. “Keep going, honey.” His voice was incredibly gentle for you, even as the undercurrent of his rage thrummed through his veins. He could barely bear to listen to the atrocities you had survived, but he had to. You were finally opening up to him, and he would listen to you until the end of time.

You gulped, trying to steady your breathing. “At the time, they were desperate, trying to replicate the lost Super Soldier serum using volatile cosmic energy signatures they barely understood.” You let out another shaky sob, and Thor immediately rubbed your back in slow, soothing circles, offering you every ounce of comfort his massive frame could provide. “More needles inserted into my skin... more radiation pumped into my veins, all for the sake of a twisted immortality.”

You held him tighter, closing your eyes against the memories. “And once they realized what they had created, they turned me into a ghost. An assassin. They forced me—forced me to do horrific, bloody things, Thor. I hurt so many people.” You opened your eyes, looking up at him with an unbearable vulnerability. “I did horrible, horrible things.”

The tears came faster now, the weight of your past crushing you as you sobbed uncontrollably against him. “I never wanted to do any of those things... they made me, I swear they made me, and they hurt me to make me do it—”

“Shh, sweetheart,” Thor interrupted softly, his voice thick with emotion as he clutched you even tighter against his heart, burying his face into your hair, his nose nudging your scalp as he did so. “None of this is your fault. Look at me.” He pulled back just enough to cup your face with both of his massive hands, gently forcing you to look up into his striking blue eyes. “None of it is your fault.”

“I am the one who did all of it—” Your voice cut off as another wave of tears streamed down your cheeks. It was like a dam had permanently broken in your chest, and there was absolutely no stopping it now. You were crying for the stolen years, crying for the innocent lives your hands had been forced to take, crying because you felt completely stripped bare and vulnerable—but most of all, you were crying because you loved him.

“I told you it is not your fault, sweetheart,” he said, his tone turning fiercely stern, leaving no room for you to argue with him. “You were kidnapped. Tortured.” He gulped like it was a great pain to say these words, “Your whole life was altered by monsters. You were made to do all of it.” His own voice grew heavy with sadness as he looked at your tears. “You did nothing wrong. You were just trying to survive, honey.”

“I’m so glad Steve and Tony saved me,” you whispered, your throat burning. “I... I don’t know what I’d do if it wasn't for them.”

At the mention of their names, Thor felt his chest tighten with a sharp, unexpected pang. Who else on the team knew the full extent of this? Steve and Tony, definitely. Natasha? You two were close; you would have told her. Bucky? Bruce? Clint? Was he truly the only person who had been left completely in the dark?

And to think he had called you gloomy.

A heavy cloak of regret settled over his shoulders. It was all true—everything he had confessed to Alejandro and Valentin at the table. He had thought you were the most breathtakingly beautiful woman he had ever seen the moment you walked into the compound years ago. But he had fucked it all up by opening his mouth and saying you looked gloomy. Would the two of you be any different right now if he hadn't used that stupid word?

“I am sorry,” he mumbled, the unexpected words catching your attention through the haze of your crying. He looked down at you, his eyes pained. “So fucking sorry I called you gloomy. Truly sorry. Can you—” He gulped hard, his chest heaving. “Can you forgive me?”

“I...” You trailed off, staring up at him in utter disbelief. Where the hell was this coming from? The walls around your heart instantly tried to slam back up. “Do you pity me now? Is that it?” you asked, your tone shifting into something sharp and defensive.

Thor’s eyes widened in immediate panic. “No—not pity. Towards you at least, never. I pity myself.”

“What does that even mean—”

“I meant every single word I said back there at the table,” he said softly, his thumbs tenderly grazing your cheeks to wipe away the fresh tears.

Your heart gave a violent flutter against your ribs, but it felt entirely too good to be true. You couldn't let yourself fall for a beautiful lie. “Do not mock me, Thor—”

“I would never.”

Your eyebrows went straight up, your expression clearly stating the obvious. He loved mocking you. He made it his absolute daily mission to get under your skin and irritate you to death.

Thor scrunched his face up at your look, a soft, self-deprecating sigh escaping his lips. “On this matter, I mean. I would never, ever mock you on a matter such as this, Little Flame.”

You scoffed, quickly averting your eyes from the intensity of his gaze. “Now you're just being cruel, big guy—“you tried to pry yourself off him, but one of his hands holding your face descended to your waist and circled it tightly.

“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met in my thousands of years alive.”

Your eyes widened with shock as they snapped back to meet his. Your heart dropped straight to your stomach with a violent jolt of excitement—of pure happiness.

“I am?” you whispered, the words coming out small and fragile, like a secret you were almost too afraid to speak aloud. It felt entirely unbelievable.

“You are,” he said, nodding firmly as he looked down at you.

There was something profoundly pure swirling in his deep blue eyes. It was a look you dared not name, because if you did, the only thing you could possibly call it would be adoration. He looked at you as if he completely and utterly adored you.

As you stared up at him, it hit you: that look was familiar.

He had always looked at you this way. Back at the compound, during your worst arguments, across the briefing table—his pupils would blow wide, a hidden mirth would dance behind his eyes, mixed with this exact same heavy, unyielding intensity. All these years, you had defensively rewritten that look as dislike, as a god looking down on an annoying mortal. Has he always looked at you with adoration in his eyes? Or were you just desperately lying to yourself now because your own walls were crumbling?

Either way, your breath was completely knocked out of you. Panic, cold and sharp, flooded your veins. You had to get away from him. You had to protect your heart, your soul, whatever was left of your sanity. You had already bared your darkest, most painful secret to him—the one thing you had specifically kept hidden from him out of fear—and you were terrified of what else you might reveal the longer you spent wrapped up in his arms.

“I—“You panicked even more as his gaze softened with that heartbreakingly tender look. You planted your palms against his chest and pushed. “I think it would be better if you let go of me now.” Thor’s expression changed, the vulnerability vanished, his eyes darkening to a stormy, dangerous hue. He had just laid his soul bare, admitting he found you more beautiful than anything in the cosmos, and now you were demanding he let you go?

“No,” he rumbled, his grip on your waist tightening rather than loosening. “Why would I do that?”

“Because I want you to—I need you to—“

“Why would you need me to do that?” he demanded, his voice dropping dangerously. “Are you that disgusted by me?”

Before you could even process the question, his expression shifted again. The anger twisted into something entirely unhinged as the green-eyed monster clawed ruthlessly at his insides, blinding him with an irrational fury.

“So you will gladly get close to that bastard at the bar, let his filthy hands touch your skin, but you cannot bear to have me hold you?”

Your mouth parted as you looked at him with pure, unyielding disbelief. “What on earth are you on about? Why do you keep talking about him like I'm actually into him—“

“Are you?” he fiercely cut you off.

He leaned down further, his eyes agressively scanning every inch of your face, his hot breath fanning across your lips. It made your breath hitch painfully in your throat. His completely irrational, wild behavior was forcing you to consider a reality you shouldn't. Something you would have never dared to think of just moments ago. Was he jealous?

Was he actually fucking jealous?

A dangerous spark of defiance flared up inside your chest. “What if I am?” you pushed, tilting your chin up to challenge him. “You cannot be,” he said, a flash of pure, territorial anger burning hot behind his eyes. “I will not let you. You are—you—“ He stammered, his usual booming eloquence completely deserting him as his gaze furiously swept over your face, desperately trying to decipher if you actually harbored any feelings for that fucker.

You smiled daringly up at him. You knew you probably looked absolutely wicked right now, with your smudged mascara, your flushed cheeks, and that fierce, determined look in your eyes.

“Are you jealous, big guy?” you whispered.

Your hands, which had been resting on his chest, began trailing upwards to his neck seductively. You didn't even have control over your own body anymore; it was like some primal instinct had taken over and you had to do this. You had to break him. You had to get him to confess. You felt entirely insane—just seconds ago, you were panicking and trying to push him away, and now you were mindlessly feeling him up, loving the power you had over him. Fuck.

Thor felt his heartbeat fasten against his ribs. His arm around your waist constricted, pulling you so close that there wasn't a single shred of air left between your bodies, his jaw locking hard in place. He knew exactly what you were doing. You were playing with fire on purpose. He made a ‘pfft’ sound, “I am not—“ he tried, desperately attempting to lie straight to your face.

“I think you are, honey,” you purred, leaning in until your breath fanned directly over his lips, your thumb lazily circling the heated skin at the nape of his neck. Even his neck was hot, for god's sake. It was thick and masculine. He was so masculine. His eyes immediately drifted down to your lips again, his resolve crumbling. “I am not. I simply... I wish to protect you because you are my teammate—“

“Oh, so I should just go back down to the bar and find him, then?” you pushed ruthlessly. You tilted your head, feigning complete innocence with your wide, tear-bright eyes.

He huffed, utterly furious at the mere suggestion. “Absolutely not. You are not leaving this damn room without me by your side.”

Your wicked smile widened. “Why not?” you purred, your face moving a fraction closer until your lips almost brushed his jaw. “I could touch him like this...” Your hands drifted down from his neck, sliding over the heavy planes of his chest down to his massive biceps, making his muscles instantly twitch under your fingertips. “I could kiss him like I did you, just minutes ago—“

Thor couldn't take it a single second longer.

His lips slanted over yours, ruthlessly cutting your sentence and your breath off. He pulled you even closer toward him, holding you like you were his absolute lifeline, pressing you so tight against his broad, muscular frame that it felt like your bodies were becoming one. You kissed him back passionately, completely losing yourself in the intoxicating heat of it. Your hands flew up to find his rough cheeks, and you pushed yourself up on your tiptoes, pressing your lips hungrily onto his.

He bit your lower lip with a sudden, needy sharpness, then stopped. He reluctantly moved his head away just a few inches, his breathing heavy and ragged as he whispered against your mouth, “You are not to kiss anyone but me.” His thumb came up, grazing over your throbbing lower lip. “Stop it, alright?” he whispered, then pecked your lips.

“Why—“

He pecked your lips again, roughly cutting you off, and then growled the confession right into your mouth: “Because I am fucking jealous, okay honey?”

He kissed you again, and you actually smirked straight into the kiss. The absolute victory of making a literal god admit defeat made your heart soar into the stratosphere. You pulled back though your lips were still grazing his, whispering wickedly against his mouth, “What was that?”

He pecked your lips again, desperate, heavy, and completely surrendered to you. “I have been burning with jealousy since I saw him lay his filthy eyes on you. I do not know what is wrong with me, but I—” He gulped hard, his large thumb slowly gliding over your flushed cheek. “I am consumed by it.”

A breathless, giddy giggle escaped your lips then. “Okay, big guy.”

He was jealous. The King of Asgard was completely, undeniably jealous, and he had just admitted it to you in the dark of your room. Oh god, you were losing your mind—and you never wanted to find it again.

But one question prodded at your mind before he made it all disappear with a fierce kiss, why was he jealous in the first place?

But you were not in your right mind. Because Thor wasn’t kissing you like a normal kiss. He was inhaling you, and it was already lighting you on fire.

The height difference was clearly bothering him as much as it was bothering you. Feeling the strain, Thor lowered himself just a bit before sliding his hands under your thighs, effortlessly lifting you completely off the floor, making your dress ride up. Your arms immediately circled around his thick neck—the very same neck you had been dying to strangle just hours ago—and you let out a soft moan directly into his mouth as his hands slipped up from your thighs to find your ass, squeezing your cheeks tightly as he pinned you securely against his massive frame. You moaned into his mouth, not being able to help it.

A hand left your ass and wrapped around your neck, while the other moved back to your waist to securely hold you, angling your face to kiss you as deeply as he wanted. His tongue pressed over yours as he walked himself backward into the bedroom. The kiss was heated, so full of passion you felt your insides burn with it. His kisses descended to your jaw, then to your neck as he hummed in deep appreciation. What were you doing kissing Thor, of all people? What were you doing letting Thor take you to bed, of all people?

But the thought couldn't even fully form as he bit down on your neck, making you whine in pain.

“Thor—” you begged, without knowing what it was you were begging for.

— “Yes?” he rumbled against your skin as he licked the sensitive spot on your neck, then he laid you over the mattress, settling his heavy body over you. He massaged your hips as he settled himself deeply between your legs. You spread them wide to accommodate him, and felt it poking hard against your thigh.

His cock, thick and hard, was somehow bigger than you had imagined—and you hadn’t been thinking small.

“Guess we don't have to fight over who gets the bed anymore,” you quipped, your voice breathless, trying to find a defense in your usual wit.

It made him chuckle, a low vibration against your chest. “I guess not,” he whispered, then took your lips again. This kiss was softer than before, slowly dismantling you as his lips glided over yours. Then he pressed his hips heavily against your core, making you whine out loud.

“Do you feel that?” He pulled your upper lip between his teeth, smiling slightly into the heat of your face. “It’s what you do to me. Ever since we landed here, I’ve be walking around so hard I was worried you’d see it. But no.” He kissed one corner of your mouth, then the other. “You’re oblivious, aren’t you, honey?”

He found you that attractive?

You hummed, tipping your head back in complete surrender. Thor groaned, dragging his lips over a throbbing pulse point, letting his tongue flick against the sensitive skin of your throat. “You like that too,” he grunted, his breath hot in your ear. “You like being the one person that gets me going, that makes me lose it. No one else, my Little Flame.”

He held your hips again and pushed your ass forward, locking you in place so your clit was pushed tightly against the thick hardness of him through the fabric. A long moan escaped your lips, and you dropped your face into his shoulder, completely undone.

Thor grunted, rutting forward, and it was so fucking hot you couldn't think past it. The deep drawl of his voice in your ear, the impossible strength of him around you—it was intoxicating. The clothing added a desperate, heavy extra friction, his fingers digging into your hips.

“Just you,” he thrusted forward against your core, squeezing your ass tightly with his other hand. “Only you, sweetheart. So beautiful and sassy, driving me insane—“

You whimpered as Thor made a low, ragged sound, taking a deep, shaky breath against your hair. His hand then slipped into your panties, his deft fingers dragging down to tease right against the already damp drip of your pussy. His fingers started circling your clit, a thick dampness forming immediately down there under his torturously perfect touch. “Please—” you cried out, your hips bucking up instinctively against his hand, begging for him to end this perfect torture.

“Please what, honey?i Thor rasped, his touch growing heavier, more demanding as he felt your walls slick and trembling for him. “Tell me exactly what you want me to do to you”

“I want you,” you gasped out as he inserted his middle finger inside you—and fuck, even his finger was incredibly large.

“Not enough, sweetheart,” he grumbled, pressing his thumb firmly down onto your clit, making you squirm and twitch helplessly in place beneath his weight.

“What do I have to say—“

“I said tell me exactly what you want, did I not?” he rumbled, suddenly moving his finger deep inside you, rhythmically fucking you with it. You whined loudly at the overwhelming friction, your hands locking onto his massive biceps and squeezing hard enough to leave marks. “I want you to—“ you gasped, your vision blurring. “I want you to fuck me... no, I need you to fuck me. Please.”

You were completely reduced to begging him. In response, his fingers slicked deeper as he added his ring finger into your heat, stretching you beautifully, but then he stopped abruptly.

There was simply too much extra fabric from your midi dress crumpled up in his way.

Your eyebrows furrowed, the sudden loss of momentum leaving you aching and confused. “What is it?”

He didn't respond with words. Instead, his large hands slid down to your lower back, his knuckles brushing your bare skin as his fingers found the zipper of your dress.

Your blood ran completely cold in an instant. Your whole body stiffened up beneath him, every single muscle locking tight.

Your scars.

Other people, other agents, had seen them on the battlefield or during training, and you had never felt bad about it. But this was Thor. You knew he had caught a fleeting glimpse of them at the pool earlier, but he hadn't truly seen all of them. He hadn't seen the worst of them. And this was not a public pool, was it? This was intimate. This was completely private. Which meant he would have all the time in the world to analyze them with his eyes, more time to realize how broken your body really was, more time to get disgusted by them—

The heavy weight of his hand cupped your jaw, covering it completely and instantly grounding you, cutting your spiraling thoughts short. “What is it?” he asked softly, his blue eyes searching yours in the dim light. “What's wrong, Little Flame?”

You gulped hard, helplessly averting your eyes from his intense stare. “I—I don't know about this...”

“Do you want to stop?” he asked immediately, completely freezing, his hand instantly lifting away from the zipper of your dress without hesitation.

“No!” you scrambled out desperately. Your eyes snapped back to find his, and you saw deep confusion in them.

How could he not be confused? You probably looked completely insane to him right now. First you were kissing him like there was no tomorrow, then you were begging him to take you, then you were voicing a doubt, but you were still fiercely refusing to stop. You were goddamn confusing.

You closed your eyes, a wave of shame washing over you. “It's just that I...” You swallowed hard. “I don't think I should remove my dress.”

His eyebrows furrowed deeply. “But I want to feel you. I do not understand,” he said, getting more perplexed by the second.

You huffed, unable to meet his eyes. “My scars... they are not pleasant to look at, Thor.”

“You do not know what is pleasant to my eyes or not,” he countered instantly, his deep voice carrying an unyielding certainty that took you completely aback.

“But—“

“I find you attractive. I find your scars attractive. I find every single part of you breathtakingly attractive,” he said, his tone dropping into a fierce vow as his hand found the track of your zipper once again. He didn't pull it, he just waited, asking for your trust. “Please let me see you, darling,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over yours, his warm breath intoxicating. “So that I can witness your beauty. So that I can show you exactly how much I love your scars, how much I love every part of you.”

Your eyes were wide, your heart beating so fast and hard against your ribs it felt painful. Should you actually let him?

This was Thor, for god's sake. He was never the nicest person to you—

But was he not?

A sudden rush of memories flooded your brain, completely reframing the last few years. He always looked out for you on dangerous missions, shielding your blind spots. Even though he irritated you daily, he always helped you carry heavy equipment crates—though not before he smugly made you cave in and admit you couldn't do it yourself, just like he did with your suitcases. He had caught you by the waist every single time you tripped. His eyes had always, always been tracked onto you in every room. And tonight, he had called you the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his thousands of years of life, before literally threatening to crush a man's skull for disrespecting you.

So no. He had never been rude to you. He had always been good to you. He annoyed you, sure, but he was so goddamn protective and sweet to you in his own annoying and loud way, and you had somehow just noticed it. How the hell did you just notice it?

Your chest was heaving heavily as you made your final decision, the remaining walls around your heart completely collapsing.

“Okay,” you whispered, nodding your head against the pillow.

Thor smiled then—a soft, blindingly beautiful smile that made him look younger, happier. His lips easily found yours again in a deep, reassuring kiss as his hand slowly, smoothly slid the zipper all the way down, gently removing the white dress from your body and leaving nothing between you but the heat of his skin.

You were now left in your white bra and panties, his gaze burning your skin as he looked all over you. His heart soared at the sight of you, but he felt a sharp pang of pain in his chest at the scars littering your skin. They were a lot more than he thought, but gods, they only made you more attractive to him. A strong woman, with the face of an angel and the body of a goddess—you were always meant to be his undoing.

His fingers grazed a thin line along your ribs as his mind echoed fiercely, She is beautiful, and I am going to make them pay for hurting her, all of them.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you squirmed, a faint trace of your old discomfort resurfacing. Instead of drawing back, he leaned over your body, his face level with your stomach as his large hands gently grabbed your sides, anchoring you. And then, he lowered his head and kissed one of the most visible, ragged scars you had near your hip.

“You are beautiful. Truly a goddess... one fit for me,” he muttered against your skin, before kissing the mark again.

Your breath hitched, your head spinning into a daze. That specific scar was from the most lethal trauma you had ever endured. You had almost died that day; in fact, you had hoped to die that day just to escape. But your captives had found a way to keep you alive, using brutal, advanced procedures to permanently bind your altered biology together. Tears welled up in your eyes, your vision blurring for the second time that night. To see him kiss it like that—so tenderly, with so much reverence—made something warm and heavy fill your chest. It was like a fractured part of you was finally feeling whole again.

I love him, your mind screamed at you for the second time that day. Your right hand instinctively found his rough cheek, your fingers tangling in his beard as he kept kissing your scars. One left from needles being inserted into the exact same place dozens of times; one left from a failed escape attempt on a mission they sent you on, a punishment for not obeying... He was kissing every single one of them.

And while his lips hovered over the worst one near your hip again, you finally whispered, “I almost died when I got that one.”

His head immediately whipped up, his heart tightening painfully in his chest at your words. “What?” he asked, his throat closing in, his blue eyes blazing with an intense, dark focus.

“They used a plasma blade to slice me open during a combat stress-test,” you whispered, the memory making your voice shake. “They wanted to see how fast the cosmic energy in my blood would knit the flesh back together while I was conscious. I begged them to just let me bleed out.”

Thor’s hold on your sides violently tightened, his knuckles turning white and his jaw locking so hard a muscle strove in his cheek. “I am going to make them pay, Little Flame." he said his voice determined, "I am going to avenge you. They are going to feel the wrath of the God of Thunder, be sure of that. No one, and I mean no one, gets away with hurting you.”

He turned his head toward the hand holding his cheek, shifting slightly to press a deep, lingering kiss against the inside of your wrist, right over your pulsing vein, like he wanted to be sure you were alive. Like he needed reassurance of your well being after your confession. He could not bear the thought of you in pain, but death? You on the brink of death? His poor heart could not take it. “I do not know what you did to me, sweetheart, but you—” he gulped, his eyes locked on yours, “you have a hold on me that no one else ever did. That no one else ever could.”

He leaned up, his chest heaving against yours. “I cannot help it. I cannot help but be jealous, I cannot help but be protective, possessive... I just can't help it. You have completely bewitched me.”

Your breathing fastened as your heart fluttered wildly in your chest at his words. What did he mean? How was he talking like this? He couldn't love you, you knew that—you were just deeply flawed partners on a mission—but a part of your soul soared at the fact that he harbored these intense, desperate urges for you. Even if it wasn't love, he felt for you with a terrifying depth.

When his large hands moved down to remove your white bra, you reached up and caught his wrists, tsking him with a breathless smirk. “Don't you think you're being a bit unfair, big guy? It's your turn.”

Your hands found his collar, pulling his heavy frame down to your lips. You kissed him deeply, pouring all your hidden, aching feelings into it, while your shaky fingers began working on the unbuttoning of his shirt. Your hands were trembling with excitement and the weight of your feelings for him. When you finally removed your lips from his, you let out a frustrated huff, looking down at the fabric because your frantic fingers couldn't unbutton them fast enough.

Thor just chuckled, a rumbling sound against your chest. He took matters into his own hands, gripping the shirt and casually pulling it over his head with one smooth motion, tossing it blindly across the room.

“Oh fuck... you honestly are a god,” you whispered, taking him in fully. His biceps were literally the size of your head, his pecs perfectly sculpted, his abs defined and casting shadows in the dim light—he was going to be the absolute death of you.

He chuckled again, clearly enjoying your completely awestruck expression, and immediately took it to his advantage. His large hand slid behind your back, and with a single, practiced flick of his fingers, he unclasped your bra in a second.

You gasped in bewilderment, snapping your eyes up to meet his. “You sly fox,” you said, a wicked smirk returning to your lips.

He just held your bra up for a brief second like a captured banner of war, a triumphant smile lighting up his handsome face, before he tossed it away. Turning all of his massive, heavy attention back to you, his mouth immediately latched onto your right breast, his tongue swirling hot against your skin while his large hand slid down past your stomach to find your crotch.

“Ohmygod,” you gasped out in one breath.

His fingers hooked into the edge of your panties, sliding them down your hips before giving a firm, playful slap against your inner thigh. “Get your legs up for me, honey, so I can get these off,” he grunted against your skin. You quickly complied, lifting your hips and helping him slide the remaining lace down your legs until you were completely bared for him.

He let go of your nipple for a second, his large hands sliding down to grip your thighs with an iron hold, settling himself deeply between them again. He spread them wide open, his gaze dropping down to your glistening center. His tongue darted out in anticipation, his eyes dark with an intense, heavy hunger.

“You look so sweet, honey. Bet you taste as sweet as you look, don't you?” he murmured to himself, his deep baritone sending a thrill straight down your spine as he kept his gaze locked between your legs.

You whined in agonizing anticipation, your hips twitching on the mattress. “Do something—oh!”

You were cut off as his thumb pressed hard against your clit, slowly dragging all the way down your slick slit, catching your juices on his skin. He lifted his hand, looking down at his wet thumb before putting it directly between his lips, sucking the moisture off as he closed his eyes.

“Oh, yes you do taste sweet. Better than I ever imagined,” he rumbled, his voice rough. He leaned down and gave your pussy a light, playful slap, the stinging heat making you whine out loud.

“Thooor—”

He hovered back over your body, his mouth immediately returning to suckle hungrily on your right nipple. At the same time, his hand slid back between your thighs, inserting his middle finger deep inside you, quickly followed by his ring finger. His thumb began circling your clit in rhythmic patterns. Your mouth fell agape, your head tossing from side to side as you moaned and moaned, your body beautifully stretched by his incredibly large fingers.

Your hands locked onto his broad shoulders, squeezing tight, the slick friction of his touch rapidly driving you toward the edge, pulling you closer to that blissful, impending high.

“'M close,” you murmured, your eyes completely dazed. You pulled his head closer, biting down on the thick skin of his neck and suckling fiercely, making the god let out a deep, gravelly groan of pleasure.

“You’re driving me insane,” he growled against your skin, his fingers moving faster, driving deep inside your tight heat. “Come on, pretty girl, make a mess on my fingers.”

The pressure kept building and building in your lower stomach until it was entirely unbearable. “I—” you gasped, your toes curling into the sheets. “I’m gonna—”

“Come on, let it go, baby,” he commanded darkly.

And then you snapped. You came hard, whining and moaning loudly as wave after wave of intense pleasure rippled through your core, your walls clamping down violently around his fingers. Thor grunted, keeping his fingers moving through your contractions, forcing every last drop of pleasure out of you until you were breathlessly begging him to stop.

Before you could even catch your breath, Thor shifted. He reached down to his waist, lowering his trousers and boxers in a single, aggressive movement. Because he was already on his knees, the fabric simply bunched up around his knees, freeing his lower half.

Your eyes widened in absolute awe at the sight. He was big. Just as you had thought, but seeing him fully bare made him look even bigger. “Oh god,” you whispered.

Thor gave his length a slow, heavy pump of his hand, precum glistening at the tip as he smeared the moisture down his thick shaft. He looked down at you, his chest heaving.

“Do we need protection? Because I don't have any—” he asked, his voice thick with restraint. “No, we don't,” you said eagerly, you were on the pill.

Pushing yourself up onto your elbows, you looked his naked torso and heavy length over with a predatory hunger. “You’re so fucking handsome it’s annoying, do you know that?” you said, biting your lower lip.

He chuckled, a smug, low sound as he settled his weight back in between your open legs. “Why, thank you, Little Flame—”

Your hand shot out, planting firmly against his massive shoulder. “Can I ride you?” Thor stopped dead in his tracks, his chest heaving, his pupils blown wide. “What?”

“Can I ride you?” you asked again, your voice completely determined.

Taking full advantage of his momentary shock, you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist, using your core to pull him down as you deftly flipped your positions. Within a second, you were sitting squarely on top of his hard stomach. His defined abs twitched beneath you, the movement grazing directly against your freshly sensitive clit, making you take a sharp breath.

“You wanna do all the work, honey?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowing as a lazy, amused smirk tugged at his lips.

“Mhm,” you hummed, your eyes dazed and hooded as you looked down at his towering chest. He chuckled, his large hands rising to rest loosely on your hips. “Are you sure? You are well aware I possess the stamina of a god.”

You rolled your eyes at his typical Asgardian arrogance. “I am aware. Can you just stop talking and—”

“Are you getting on, or not?” he interrupted, his smirk widening as he tilted his hips up just a fraction, the warm tip of his cock brushing against your entrance.

For a split second, the temptation to be difficult returned. “I am definitely reconsidering it now,” you pouted, crossing your arms over your bare chest and throwing him a defiant look.

But Thor just snorted, rolling his eyes at your stubbornness. Before you could even blink, his hands gripped your hips with terrifying strength and he lifted you up. You didn't even get a second to think before he downwardly forced your hips straight onto his thick dick, burying himself inside you all the way to the hilt.

The air was knocked completely from your lungs. Thor was so deep in you it was pushing all the thoughts out of your brain. You gaped down at him, making weak, breathless noises as your pussy pulsed and stretched beautifully around his thickness. His fingers dug deeply into your hips, the only sign that he was struggling to hold himself back from taking over completely.

“Much as I enjoy you trying to take control,” he muttered, his large hands sliding down to massage your ass with a heavy, grounding pressure, “I'd rather keep you full of me so you stop thinking.”

He reached up slowly, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You bit your bottom lip, whining at the unbearable fullness, and he chuckled, settling his upper body fully into the pillows. Your hands found his chest, your fingers grabbing firmly onto his broad pectorals for balance. “Ride it, baby,” he ordered, his voice a low, gravelly command.

And god help you, you tried. You caught your breath after a long moment that felt like an eternity and started to roll your hips. Thor groaned, his heavy eyelids fluttering as your tight heat dragged over his length, but he deliberately didn't help you yet. His hands remained firm on your body, forcing you to use every ounce of your strength to grind down onto his dick.

Your movements accidentally pushed him right against that sensitive, gooey spot inside of you, and you faltered with a long, broken moan. You shifted, forcing his thick head right against it again, and he let out a sharp breath, though he still didn't take the reins. “Uhh—” you whined, your head spinning.

“Feels good, does it not?” he cooed, his cock throbbing heavily inside you. “Nice and big, filling up your pussy so good.”

You moaned, your hips bucking instinctively. Thor grunted, thrusting up just slightly to meet you, and you tipped your head back as a shiver ran down your spine. The friction was incredible. For a second, back arched and thighs aching, you actually managed to find a rhythm. It started slow, rolling and pushing Thor’s cock right where you wanted it.

You looked down at him, sweaty and utterly adoring beneath you. His hands wandered over your skin, his breathing ragged and his lips parted as he watched you take him.

“That's a good girl,” he muttered, his blue eyes blown wide. “There you go, My Star.” He continued, “My beautiful fucking Star, so good for me are you not?”

You keened at the praise, your pace moving faster. Your knees were growing weak from the exertion, but the desperate need inside you was so much stronger. You bounced on Thor’s dick, grabbing at his chest and gasping for air as his sheer size split you open over and over again.

Looking down at his bare chest, his defined pecs looked absolutely delicious in the dim light. You had to take a bite, didn't you? Lowering your upper body flat against his chest, you leaned down and bit down on his left breast, hard. Thor groaned loudly, his abs flexing hard beneath you. “What are you—” he gasped.

You didn't answer, simply licking over the damp mark you had just left before kissing over it mindlessly. Pushing yourself back up, your hands found their place on his heaving chest again, meeting his eyes which were burning with an unhinged desire.

But it wasn't enough. You didn't possess the extra stamina or strength of a god, and he was just too big. You were so overwhelmed by pleasure that your body was starting to forget how to move properly. Every wet, obscene sound echoing in the room made you glance down at where he was disappearing inside of you—the way your slick was heavily coating his cock when you pulled up, and the heavy weight of his balls slapping against your ass every time you dropped back down.

You only got hornier, wanting nothing more than to just let go and allow your eyes to cross and toes to curl, but you couldn't find the pace to get over the edge. You couldn't cum. The frustration built up until pathetic, fat tears started streaming down your cheeks.

”Aw, baby, why are you crying?” Thor murmured, his voice laced with a gentle mockery. Fully aware of the fact that you couldn't reach the finish line by yourself, he reached up, brushing your tears away with his thumb while a tiny, knowing smirk played on his lips.

You let out a frustrated sob, shaking violently above him as your legs finally grew too weak to sustain the weight. You collapsed forward, just squirming uselessly against his lap now, blinking through wet lashes at his teasing, lazy smile. “You can't get there all alone, can you?” he purred, gripping your waist tightly and slamming his hips up into you.

You made a choked, high-pitched sound as the sudden force rattled your entire frame. “That's right, pretty girl. Just a total mess on my cock."

“Ple—please—“ you blubbered, completely spent, your upper body collapsing weakly over Thor’s broad chest. “God, Thor—please—“

“Aw. Begging so pretty.” He leaned up and pressed a tender, lingering kiss to your wet forehead. “How could I ever say no to you, huh?”

Without another word, Thor gripped your hips and effortlessly lifted you off his cock, twisting you onto your back as he sat up. You were shoved down into the mattress, your head pressed deeply into the cushions. His massive hands locked onto your hips, dragging you down the bed toward him, completely manhandling you. His right hand moved to the inside of your left thigh, pushing it wide open to expose your dripping core to the cool air of the room.

“Such a mess,” Thor rumbled, his eyes dark as he ran the thick head of his cock between the lips of your pussy, letting it press heavily against your swollen clit before lining it right back up at your entrance.

He slid in slowly, filling you back up until your eyes rolled back in your head. Bringing his upper body over yours, his left hand found your right leg, pushing it all the way up to your chest. He was impossibly deeper at this angle, stretching you to your absolute limits.

You tried to press your hand over your mouth to muffle your pathetic, undone sounds, but Thor tutted softly. With his left hand, he firmly wrapped his fingers around your wrist and pulled your hand away, pinning it to the mattress. He bottomed out completely, a deep groan ripping from his chest as he bit your earlobe.

His hand found its way to your thigh and kept your legs pinned high next to your breasts as he began to move, his brutal, unyielding pace making you instantly see stars. Every heavy thrust sent a shockwave through your body, your hips bouncing uncontrollably against the mattress.

Thor moved his head back just a little, looking down at where your bodies joined, and grunted in deep, possessive approval. He caught your jaw in his hand, his fingers anchoring you as he fucked you hard. “Want to see how good we fit, pretty girl?”

You couldn't even catch a goddamn breath, but you nodded frantically. He let go of your jaw, sliding his hand to the back of your head and gently forcing you to look down at your own lap.

It was sinful. So fucking sinful. A white, creamy ring was forming around his shaft as he ruthlessly fucked into you, and he was so goddamn right—you fit together like perfect puzzle pieces. With every single downward stroke, his heavy pelvis hit directly against your engorged, sensitive clit.

You moaned loudly, your eyebrows knitting together in pure pleasure as the visual pushed you right over the edge unexpectedly. You screamed his name as he let go of your head, his thumb brushing over your trembling lips. He didn't stop, keeping up the relentless, pounding pace, grunting your name over and over against your neck.

“Came after just a few seconds of me fucking you?” he mocked breathlessly, but he was in no better shape than you were. He looked completely disheveled, his hair wild, his jaw locked in a tight line of restraint.

He pushed his damp thumb directly into your mouth, and you blindly suckled on it, wrapping your tongue around his skin.

“Fuck,” he grunted, his blue eyes blowing wide as he finally lost his grip on his godly stamina. His hips gave one last, deep, trembling shove, pinning you flat to the bed as he came, throwing thick, hot ropes of cum deep inside you, filling you to the absolute brim. —

“Are you okay?” he whispered, his lips brushing tenderly against your knuckles.

You were having a near-impossible time keeping your eyes open, the aftershocks of the last hour leaving your limbs feeling like heavy lead, but you managed to nod lazily and offer him a soft, sleepy smile.

Thor took your hand, bringing it up to rest against his bare chest. You frowned, your brow furrowing in confusion. “What’re you doin’?” you mumbled, your exhaustion making your words barely intelligible, slurring together into a sleepy hum.

“Have to take care of you, baby,” he said, his voice so gentle it made your heart ache. He didn't wait for an answer, simply scooping you up into his arms, bridal style. Your arms instinctively circled around his thick neck, and you rested your heavy head against his shoulder as he carried you into the bathroom.

After he helped you clean up with a patience that was entirely uncharacteristic of the man you’d known for years, he carried you back to the bed. He kissed your forehead with lingering reverence as he laid you down, then slid under the covers next to you, pulling you into his embrace until your head was pillowed firmly against his chest.

His heart was beating like a war drum against your ear, his large fingers trembling slightly as he pulled the thin, cool sheets up to tuck you in. He stared at the ceiling, lost in the terrifying shift in his own reality.

Why was he feeling like this? What had happened to the cold, arrogant dynamic you two had shared for so long? The question burned in his mind, sharp and insistent: Did you feel the same?

Unable to hold the mounting anxiety back, he mumbled, “Do you hate me?”

The question came out before he could stop it, brittle and desperate. You stiffened slightly against him, your eyes fluttering open for a brief moment. “I never hated you.”

He hummed, a low vibration in his chest. “Hm.” He shifted, his hand moving to smooth a lock of hair away from your face. “Let me phrase it like this then... do you dislike me still?”

You smiled a little bit, your face scrunching up as you looked up at him hazily, your consciousness drifting further away. You were too exhausted to put up your usual defenses, and you told him half the truth.

“Not so much.”

You leaned forward and kissed his chest without thinking, the action small and intimate, before laying your head back down. His fastened heartbeat drummed in your ears, a frantic, steady rhythm that matched your own.

Thor felt his heart give out as he finally understood what he was feeling.

He was in love with you.

He had been for years, and he was absolutely, completely doomed.

—

You woke up, breathing in deeply as you opened your eyes and stretched your arms. Your eyes widened instantly as the vivid rush of last night’s endeavors hit you.

You slept with Thor.

You quickly looked next to you, your heart ready to leap with hopeful excitement, only to see a completely empty bed. Your heart dropped straight to your stomach. A cold, suffocating weight pressed down on your chest.

Where was he? Did he regret it that much? Did he wake up, realized what he had done with someone as broken as you, and left you all alone the first thing in the morning?

Your hands and feet went completely ice-cold. Your eyes tore up, your nose burning and your throat tightening painfully with incoming tears. Regret. It was the only word screaming in your mind.

You scrambled to your feet, desperately trying to swallow down the sob threatening to break out. Moving on pure autopilot, you quickly started getting ready for breakfast, needing a mask to hide behind. Your hands shook violently as you removed the mascara stains from your cheeks and quickly applied your sunscreen. You pulled on a black strapless summer dress with vibrant pink flowers—it hugged your torso tightly before flaring out beautifully from the waist down. You placed a long-brimmed black summer hat over your hair and slid into black kitten heels. Taking a shaky, shallow breath, you made your way down to the resort’s breakfast area.

The moment you stepped into the restaurant, your blood ran cold. You did not like what you were witnessing. At all.

Thor was there, standing by the open buffet, but he wasn’t alone. There she was—the receptionist girl who had been entirely too into your so-called husband since you arrived. Her hand was resting boldly on his right bicep while he looked down at her, his head turned toward her as he smiled lightly. She was actively flirting with him, and he wasn’t pulling back. Not even after everything he had whispered to you last night. What the hell was a receptionist doing there in the first place?

A dangerous rage built inside you, jealousy brewing hot and toxic, completely melting your insides. You couldn’t help it. Even if Thor didn't want you anymore, even if last night meant nothing to him, nobody was allowed to touch him like that as long as he was playing your husband.

You made your way toward them in fast, sharp strides, the click of your kitten heels masked by the ambient chatter. You stopped directly behind the girl, your index finger tapping her shoulder with an icy firmness.

She quickly turned around, a bright, rehearsed smile on her face, but that smile instantly died the second she registered who was standing there. She was much shorter than you; from beneath the brim of your hat, you were looking down at her with pure, unyielding disdain. A wicked, lethal smile played on your lips—a look that silently screamed, 'You are going to die in ten seconds, and not even the God of Thunder can save you from your demise.'

“My love, you’re awake!” Thor boomed, his face lit up with an instant, radiant brightness the very millisecond his eyes landed on you. You flicked your gaze to him, your chest tight. What a spectacular actor, you thought bitterly.

You looked straight back at the girl. Thor’s eyebrows quickly knitted together as he registered the tension radiating from your posture. “I was just on my way to bring you breakfast—”

“Were you now?” you cut him off, your voice dangerously low, though your eyes never left the receptionist. She was already squirming and trembling under your icy glare.

“I was just—” she stammered, backing up half a step. “You were just leaving,” you cut her off ruthlessly. Then, completely unable to hold yourself back through the blinding haze of your jealousy, you coldly added, “My husband does not have a taste for servants, you know?”

Thor’s eyes widened in sheer shock. You had done the exact one thing you had warned him not to do—you had ignored manners and called her a servant.

The girl nodded frantically, her eyes wide with fear, and immediately scrambled away from Thor, nearly tripping over her own feet to escape you.

The moment she was gone, you turned away from him without giving him a second look. “Baby—” Thor started, his hand reaching out.

“Do not baby me,” you snapped, turning your head back sharply, your eyes flashing with a profound, unyielding coldness that made him freeze.

Thor’s heart dropped straight to his stomach. The sudden, icy wall you had thrown up slapper him in the face so hard he felt your finger prints on his cheek. Did you regret it? Was that what this was? Did you wake up wishing last night had never happened?

“What is going on?” he asked, his voice losing its booming confidence, an edge of panic bleeding through.

You scoffed loudly, completely ignoring his question as you moved toward the stack of plates to grab your own food. You weren't going to stand there and look pathetic. Thor quickly followed on your heels, his massive frame completely blocking out the rest of the crowded restaurant as you aggressively snatched a ceramic plate from the stack. The weight of it felt solid in your shaking fingers—a grounding contrast to the chaos roaring inside your head. He didn't care that there were other guests around; his focus was entirely locked onto you.

“Talk to me, please,” he begged again, his deep voice dropping into a whispered, desperate pitch that only you could hear. “What did I do? Why are you looking at me like that?”

You moved down the line of the open buffet, your eyes fixed forward, your jaw locked tight under the long brim of your black summer hat. You didn't even see the food.

“I look at you exactly how I should look at a partner who fails to maintain the perimeter of our cover,” you whispered coldly, your tone clipped and professional—the ultimate shield to protect your bleeding heart. “We are supposed to be happily married, Thor. Yet I walk into the dining room and find you letting the resort staff treat your bicep like a resting post. It’s sloppy. It risks the mission.”

“The mission?” Thor repeated, and you heard the sharp, pained intake of his breath. He stepped in front of you, completely cutting off your path to the pastry section, forcing you to stop. When you tried to look past him, he leaned down into your line of sight, his blue eyes wide and panicked. “You think I care about the cover right now? Honey, look at me.”

The nickname was a mocking echo of the tenderness from last night. Your eyes snapped up to his, flashing with a dangerous, icy heat. “Do not call me that.”

He felt entirely hopeless, his blue eyes burning with a raw, suffocating pain the more you talked. “Last night—“

“Let's not bring up last night. Ever,” you said, sharply turning your head away from him. You were desperate to protect your heart, to pull the shields up before he could break you completely by saying how much he regretted it.

“What?” he asked, his voice entirely breathless. His lungs felt as though they were constricting in on themselves, a pain burning him from the inside out.

But you didn't answer., you just kept walking, your hands trembling so hard that the ceramic plate in your hands shaked in your grasp. You tried to swallow the thick lump of emotion stuck in your throat, but it wouldn't budge. You loved him, and he regretted you. That was the only reality your brain could process.

You had effectively carved his heart out of his chest and stepped on it with the sharp heel of your shoes, leaving his poor heart to bleed out on the cold floor while you kept thumping it with your foot over and over again. Thor’s head was thumping, his chest feeling completely hollow as he stood frozen, looking at your retreating back. To him, the message was loud and clear: you regretted everything you had given him, while he was deeply, hopelessly in love with you.

The rest of the breakfast passed by in a torturously. You didn't speak a single word to him, and he didn't dare speak to you, far too heartbroken to even think of where to begin mending the fracture. You both just sat there at the table in a heavy, complete silence. Thor spent the entire time staring down at his large, empty hands, while you kept your eyes rigidly fixed on your plate.

After breakfast, you returned to the villa to change for the pool, pulling on a black bikini and a sheer black beach dress. You kept the long-brimmed hat firmly on your head, using it as a barrier to keep yourself from looking at him, and to keep him from looking at you to see your pained expression.

Once down at the resort pool, you settled onto your sunbed for a second before immediately scrambling away to the water, needing to escape his suffocating proximity. Your body tensed up at the first splash, but slowly relaxed as your skin got used to the cold.

It's okay, your mind echoed in a desperate chant, trying to soothe your aching heart. You already got the codes. You can get this entire mission over with tonight, and then you won't ever have to sleep in the same room with him again.

From his sunbed, Thor was watching you like a hawk. He lay there with his massive arms crossed behind his head, his jaw locked so tight the muscles in his cheek flexed repeatedly. His hands were formed into rigid fists, the static electricity in his veins making the air around his chair turn faintly heavy.

Then, the tense silence was abruptly interrupted by a woman's voice coming from next to him. “Hello there, handsome.” She was sitting on a sunbed just one row away, looking to be in her late forties with short, styled blonde hair and a sly, predatory smirk on her face.

Thor didn't even turn his torso. He just spared a brief, icy sideway glance at her before immediately snapping his eyes back to the water, tracking your swimming. “Why are you all alone?” she purred, leaning forward to get his attention. “Your spouse left you to fend for yourself like mine did?” Thor finally turned his head fully away from the pool for a brief second. “I am completely fine. Thank you for your concerns, lady,” he grumbled clearly irritated, his baritone rough and entirely uninviting.

He dismissed her instantly, turning back to look toward the deep end of the pool—only to find you staring straight back at him with a lethal, blinding fire burning hot in your eyes.

He gulped, his breath taken away.

—

After your day in the pool ended and you were back in your villa, the silence between you had grown so heavier. You finally broke it, “I am going to secure the tech tonight.” Thor's back visibly stiffened at the sound of your voice. He turned to face you slowly, his blue eyes guarded. “What do you need me to do?” he asked, his voice rough and gravelly.

You gulped, forcing your professional mask back into place. “Distract Alejandro in the VIP section while I slip away. I'll pretend to go to the bathroom, access the private vault down the hall, and once I have the drive, I'll signal you through the comms so we can leave.” He nodded briefly, his jaw flexing. “Okay,” he whispered.

The process of getting ready was done in a tense, rhythmic quiet. Thor threw on a black linen shirt and charcoal linen pants, looking effortlessly devastating. You opted for a flowy, lightweight black dress that gave you maximum mobility, pairing it with flat, elegant leather sandals—you needed to be comfortable and silent on your feet tonight.

You headed down to dinner, the atmosphere of the resort's high-end restaurant buzzing around you while you sat like ghosts. You tried to eat whatever your stomach would allow, but you had absolutely no appetite after the events of the day. Every time your eyes accidentally met his, you both looked away, shielding your wounds. Once dinner was cleared, it was time. You made your way toward the exclusive VIP lounge, immediately spotting Alejandro lounging in a velvet booth surrounded by bodyguards. You and Thor exchanged a quick, imperceptible glance, checked the small clicks of your earpieces, and nodded.

Alejandro boomed with laughter the moment he saw you approach. “My friends! Welcome, welcome!” he cried, throwing his arms wide open in his usual boisterous display.

You both forced tight, practiced smiles onto your faces. Thor stepped forward, giving the man a brief, friendly hug before turning toward the booth to sit down. Before you could even slide onto the leather cushion next to him, Thor’s large hand securely gripped your waist. Your heart instantly went completely haywire as he effortlessly lifted you and pulled you right down onto his lap.

You two had been distant all day. He had to hold you. He needed to make amends, to feel the heat of your skin against his, even if it was just under the guise of the mission. At least, that was the only excuse his desperate mind could construct if you angrly yelled at him about it later.

You smiled tightly for Alejandro's benefit, but your fingers dug with an icy, warning firmness into the back of Thor's thick neck—a silent, furious message for him to let go. But Thor didn't care. He didn't care about the silent threat as long as he got to hold you in his arms for just a second longer before this mission ended and you went back to the compound to avoid him forever. He simply tightened his grip, pulling you flush against his chest, and smiled widely at Alejandro.

Alejandro chuckled deeply at the display of affection. “Always passionate, I see.”

You turned a sickly sweet smile toward the arms dealer, leaning into the cover. “Always,” you cooed, before casually looking around the lounge. “Where is Valentin tonight?” You instantly felt Thor's fingers dig sharply into your waist, his grip turning possessive at the mention of the man he had been burning with jealousy over. Alejandro made a dismissive, ‘don't care’ gesture with his hand. “Ah, he claims he is sick. Staying in his villa tonight.”

“Oh, poor guy,” you purred, feigning deep sympathy. “I hope he gets better soon.” Thor’s fingers dug even deeper into your hip bone, a silent, growling protest that you had to actively ignore.

You endured another twenty minutes of Alejandro’s endless boasting, monitoring the guard rotation out of the corner of your eye. Finally, the hallway leading to the back offices cleared. You lightly tapped Thor’s broad shoulder, signaling him that it was time. "I need to go to the restroom, honey," you said loudly enough for the table to hear, sliding off his lap.

He didn't protest, maintaining his role, but his blue eyes burned holes straight through your frame as you walked away. The moment you turned the corner out of the lounge's line of sight, the sweet smile vanished from your face. Your heart rate spiked, breathing sharpening as you slipped into the dim, restricted corridor. Using the digital master key you had covertly cloned from the resort's mainframe, you bypassed the electronic lock on Alejandro's private office in three seconds flat. The door clicked open with a faint hiss. You slipped inside, closing it silently behind you.

The room was dark, illuminated only by the ambient glow of the resort's outdoor lights filtering through the blinds. You moved like a shadow across the plush carpet, heading straight for the ornate bookshelf on the far wall. Pressing the hidden release mechanism behind a heavy brass statue, the wall ground open to reveal a reinforced titanium safe. Your fingers flew across the keypad, inputting the encryption codes you had painfully secured earlier in the week. BEEP. The safe's heavy bolts retracted. You quickly dismanntled the failsafe and looked inside the safe.

There, resting on a velvet cushion, was a glowing, intricately carved container pulsing with a faint, dark energy—the stolen Dark Elf convergence technology. Beside it lay the encrypted flash drive containing the buyers' manifests. Your breath hitched. This was it. The culmination of hours of putting up with Thor, hours of hiding your heart, hours of surviving. You carefully wrapped the artifact in a specialized containment cloth to mask its energy signature, slipping it and the drive into the secure inner pocket of your dress.

You locked the safe, closed the hidden door, and stepped back out into the hallway, your heart hammering against your ribs. Pressing your finger to your earpiece, “Package secured. Perimeter clear. Let's mo—“ you were cut off as a heavy, sweating hand clamped brutally over your mouth from behind, and the cold steel of a gun barrel pressed hard into the side of your head. Fuck.

Back in the VIP lounge, Thor’s earpiece crackled with your voice. The sound instantly soothed his aching heart, but the relief didn't last long. You were cut off mid-word, your voice muffled into a sharp static gasp. His heart dropped straight to his stomach, cold dread instantly replacing his focus. What the fuck?

He smoothly stood up, cutting Alejandro off mid-sentence with a firm, booming laugh as he patted the man's shoulder, masking the terror roaring in his veins. "It has been an absolute pleasure, Alejandro, but my wife has been feeling quite fatigued from our travels. I must take her back to our quarters," Thor said, his tone leaving absolutely no room for argument. Before Alejandro could even protest, Thor was already walking away, his long strides carrying him down the corridor. “Little Flame? What is happening?” he whispered franticallyy into his comms, his hands trembling with a mix of fear and rising fury.

You didn't respond. The silence on the other end drove him to the edge. The second he stepped into the shadow of the back hallway, out of sight of the guests, he raised his hand. With a crackle, Stormbreaker materialized into his grip, the blue sparks already dancing along the heavy blade.

“So you were here to get to this, all along?” came Valentin's sharp, bitter voice from behind you. Thor's voice crackled instantly in your ear, low and lethal. “Is it him?” Bound by the hand over your mouth, you could only press a tight, affirmative hum into the microphone.

Valentin spoke again, his grip tightening. "The only reason why you were interested in me?" He sounded entirely wrecked, like he couldn't believe his own ego had been brokenby a spy. You gulped, trying to calculate your leverage. Sensing your shift, he cautiously removed his hand from your mouth to let you speak, keeping the gun digging into your temple. “Valentin, calm dow—“ CRACK. He ruthlessly smacked the heavy side of the gun against the side of your head. The force made your head snap to the side, a low, painful grunt ripping from your throat as your vision blurred for a split second. This motherfucker.

“Did he just fucking hit you?” came Thor's roaring voice through the comms, the nger in his tone vibrating so hard it rattled your earpiece. You quickly let out another hum, trying to mask it as a groan of lingering pain so that Valentin wouldn't realize you were on an active channel. “Are you still in the same spot?” Thor demanded, his footsteps shaking the building as he sprinted toward your coordinates. This fucker had absolutely no chance. He was dying tonight.

You hummed again in confirmation, which only served to irritate Valentin further. He grabbed your chin, turning your face toward him, forcing you to look into his wild, unhinged eyes. A crazy, desperate smile spread across his face. “I think you should give me a kiss before you go,” he whispered darkly. He closed his eyes, leaning his face directly into yours. Big mistake.

The second his eyes shut, your training took over. You threw your head back, violently slamming the crown of your skull against his nose. He staggered back with a curse, and you used the momentum to drive a sharp elbow directly into his ribs, successfully hitting the gun away from your head. You spun, sweeping your leg out to take his ankles, but Valentin was fueled by pure adrenaline; he managed to catch his balance, his face twisting in fury as he lunged forward. He slammed you back against the wall, his hand locking tightly around your neck, and pointed the gun straight at your head from the front, yelling directly into your face.

But before he could even pull the trigger—before he could do anything at all—the gun in his hand was struck by a massive, flying axe. Stormbreaker sheared the weapon completely in half, embedding itself deep into the wall with a deafening thud. “I told you to stay away from her, did I not?”

And then came hell. Thor burst through the doorway, a literal storm rolling in behind him. He didn't even use his weapon. He descended on Valentin like an enraged deity, reaching out and grabbing the man by the collar of his expensive suit. “No—“ Valentin scrambled, his face draining of all color as he looked up into the face of a god.

“You hit her, and you tried to kiss her?” Thor rumbled, his voice shaking the light fixtures above. “You are in big trouble, boy.”

With a display of raw strength, Thor hoisted him completely off the floor and slammed him ruthlessly against the concrete wall. Thor's eyes completely turned into a blinding, static blue, the white-hot electricity arcing across his shoulders and down his arms. Valentin desperately pleaded for his life, gasping for air, but Thor was entirely deaf to it.

You slid down to the floor, clutching your throbbing head, watching the entire scene unfold in awe. Thor grabbed Valentin by the neck, lifting him higher, and delivered two brutal, bone-crushing punches straight to his jaw. Then, with a dark, final grunt of fury, he let the lightning loose. A massive burst of pure electricity fried Valentin instantly, dropping his lifeless body to the floor in a smoking heap. Oops.

The room went quiet, save for the faint hum of residual static. Thor immediately spun around, the terrifying god of war instantly vanishing the moment his eyes landed on you. He rushed to his knees at your side, his large hand gently but firmly holding your jaw, tilting your head up to assess the dark bruising swelling near your temple.

You tried to pull away slightly, the intensity of his focus making your chest tighten. “I'm fine,” you muttered. But your heart was beating erratically in your chest, completely overwhelmed by the unhinged protectiveness he had just shown. He had literally killed a man for putting a hand on you. He was fussing over you like you were the most precious thing in the universe. Was he really the same guy you thought regretted everything this morning?

Seeing the deep, pained expression of guilt and fear swirling in his blue eyes, you let out a soft sigh, your voice softening. “I heal fast, remember?” Thor cleared his throat, his thumb lingering against your jaw for one more second before he reluctantly nodded and let you go.

He helped you up and you both quickly slipped out of the room, heading out into the humid night air. You sprinted back to the villa, throwing your clothes into your luggage in a silent rush, before moving stealthily toward the designated extraction point in the cliffs. Once outside in the dark, Thor held Stormbreaker high into the sky, the Bifrost roaring down in a blinding beam of rainbow light, swallowing you both whole.

—

It has been two days since you came back, and you and Thor were completely ignoring each other. It was obvious to everyone else in the compound; it was the exact polar opposite of what you guys were always like. Normally, you kept riling each other up because you secretly loved it. You yelled at each other, threatened each other daily, but you were always together, attached at the hip like some dysfunctional shadow.

Now? He let you have your morning coffee without a single fuss. You let him be whenever he talked like the booming Asgardian he is, not even bothering to roll your eyes. You weren't even in the same room unless it was absolutely necessary to begin with; either you or Thor would leave the second the other walked in. It was an undeniable fact that youwere both desperately staying away from each other.

And you missed him. You missed the way he riled you up, missed the way he smiled down at you with that smug but inexplicably sweet expression on his face... you missed him so much it hurt your very soul. Natasha had quietly asked about it, Tony made a few mocking jokes, Steve only silently analyzed you two with a furrowed brow, and Scott? Well, Scott wasn't really aware of anything going on. But Rocket had literally yelled, “Why the hell are you two not fighting?!” at the both of you in the kitchen yesterday. You had only turned and left the room without a word, while Thor merely grunted, staring miserably into his mug as he sipped his coffee.

You had mandatory team training today. Eager to avoid any confrontation, you woke up at 5:00 AM just to have your coffee and breakfast completely away from him and everyone else, before retreating straight back to your room to get ready into your tight, black gear.

Thor woke up a few hours later and had his coffee as usual, but it felt entirely tasteless without the usual, fiery fight he had with you over who got to pour the first cup. Fuck, he missed you. He missed you so much he felt it aching deep in his bones, his heart, his lungs—everywhere. He hated this distance. He hated the silence.

He quickly made his way down to the training area, his intense blue eyes scanning the perimeter the second he stepped foot on the grass, instantly searching for you. And there you were near the equipment mats, talking to Steve with a quiet familiarity, just like you had been doing for the last two days. The sight of you leaning in slightly to hear what the captain was saying made rage build inside Thor's chest. The static in his veins flared, his jaw locking hard as his fists clenched at his sides.

It cannot be, his mind echoed fiercely, a desperate attempt to talk himself down. You are getting jealous over nothing. He is merely her teammate. But as he watched Steve laugh at something you said, Thor's chest hollowed out with that same burning, possessive fire that had consumed him before. He turned his head away, staring out across the vast, sun-drenched gardens of the compound, trying to force his breathing to steady. He was clearly out of his mind. He was a god, for kingdoms' sake, yet he was ready to throw down with the Captain over a simple conversation.

Meanwhile, out on the grass near the training mats, you and Steve were actually talking about the exact elephant in the room. “Tell me, doll, what happened with you two?” Steve asked, his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze shifting between you and the brooding god standing fifty yards away by the glass doors. “Nothing” you said immediately, adjusting the tracking straps on your wrists, trying to deflect. “It's obvious, you know? Don't bother lying.” Steve’s voice was gentle, but persistent.

You looked down at your combat boots, the weight of the secret pressing too heavily on your chest. Looking around to ensure no one else was in earshot, you finally whispered, “We slept together, Steve.” Steve's eyebrows furrowed in deep, pure confusion. “Okay... I know you don't exactly like the guy, but sleeping in the same bed couldn't have caused this much of a disaster—“ You snapped your head up and rolled your eyes, letting out a heavy sigh. Idiots. The whole lot of them were pure idiots. “Steve. Not like that,” you said, slapping your hand against your forehead. He had completely dismissed the actual option because his straight-laced brain simply couldn't believe it.

“What do you mean?” he asked again, completely lost.

You huffed, crossing your arms tightly. “We had sex.”

Steve’s eyes widened to the size of saucers, his arms instantly uncrossing as his brain short-circuited. “You—“ he pointed a finger at you, then pointed vaguely in Thor's direction. “Thor—“ he stammered, blubbering out in total confusion, it was very uncharacteristic of him you admit.

“Yes,” you cut him off, wanting to get the bandage ripped off. “And he regrets it, but me? I'm completely in love with him. Yay!” you said sarcastically, clapping your hands together in a mocking, bitter celebration.

Steve stood there in pure shock. You had never seen the Captain America look so entirely stunned, but then, something passed through his eyes. It was like a veil had been lifted, an entire timeline of events rewriting itself in his mind. “That's why you guys were always together,” he said, realization dawning on him. “You two are completely in love—“

“Whoa! Hold your horses,” you interrupted, your face heating up under the morning sun. “I am the one who's in love. Not him. He couldn't wait to escape the bed the next morning—“

“He is definitely in love with you—“ Steve started to counter, his voice laced with the certainty of a man who had been watching Thor pine from the sidelines for years. But whatever wisdom he was about to drop was loudly cut off by Tony’s voice echoing across the lawn through a megaphone. “We're all here, folks, let's get started! Cap, stop flirting with Shadow, goldilocks looks like he's about to blast you with lightning!” Tony yelled, gesturing toward the center of the field.

You stiffened, your eyes instinctively darting over to Thor, who was already marching onto the grass, his expression promising devastation for whoever had to spar with him today.

Your heart fastened at the sight of him, your eyes darting over his heavy frame, completely unable to control the sudden spike in your pulse. Steve grumbled something under his breath about Tony being incredibly annoying as he stood up and offered you a hand. You took his hand and got up, brushing the grass off your tight athletic pants.

Suddenly, a faint rumble of thunder vibrated through the ground. You paused, your eyebrows furrowing as you looked up at the sky, only to see bright, uninterrupted sunshine. Your eyebrows furrowed deeper. Okay... were you actually going insane?

“Did you hear that?” Steve asked quietly, looking over at you. You nodded, relieved that you weren't the only one losing your mind. But then Steve’s lips twitched into a knowing, subtle smirk. “Not in love with you, you said?” he murmured, giving you a pointed look before he turned and walked toward the center of the lawn.

You stood frozen in place for two more seconds, processing his words, before forcing your feet to move toward the rest of the team. Thor, Steve, Tony, Bruce, Scott, Nat, Clint, and even Rocket—everyone was gathered on the grass.

“Alright, listen up, children,” Tony announced, clapping his hands together. “Today we're doing partner drills. Mixed combat.” Rocket immediately hopped forward, pointing a tiny, clawed finger at you. “Pair me with Shadow! I wanna be her badass partner!”

“Why does this bunny keep yelling?” Tony muttered, rubbing his temples before looking down at the raccoon and pointing a dramatic finger across the yard. “No! Look at pointbreak over there!” He gestured toward Thor, who was standing like a dark, towering statue of menace, the grass practically singeing beneath his boots. “He's going to be her partner or we're all getting barbecued today!”

Your expression soured instantly. Okay, what the hell? Did everyone switch sides? Tony knew Thor despised you so why would he try to pair you up with him? Rocket turned his head to look at Thor, blinked at the glare the god was throwing his way, and made a startled, defensive expression. “Okay, yeah, you're right.” But then Rocket snapped his head back to Tony, baring his teeth. “I'm not a fucking bunny!”

Steve immediately interrupted, his captain instincts kicking in. “Rocket, language!” You rolled your eyes heavily. “Really, Steve?”

“Grandpa,” Tony muttered in agreement, rolling his eyes. “Alright, let's start.”

Your partner was Thor, as Tony had so graciously assigned, and standing across from you on the mats was Steve paired up with Bruce. The strategy was obvious—Bruce was meant to keep Thor occupied. The second the starting signal was given, Hulk lunged straight at Thor.

While Thor was engaged, his massive fists trading heavy blows with the green giant, he kept looking sideways at you. He was completely distracted by how easily you and Steve had slid into perfect synchronization. His blood burned hot in his veins. Focus, his mind echoed fiercely, but every time he saw Steve catch your arm to fling you into a high kick, his vision swam with red. With a roar of frustration, Thor drove a massive punch straight into the Hulk's jaw, sending the massive beast stumbling back a few heavy steps.

Meanwhile, you and Steve were moving seamlessly. You ducked low under Steve's arm, using his shoulder as leverage to drive a brutal spin-kick directly into his abdomen but he caught your foot smiling at you. You retreated yoou foot, vaulted off the ground, twisting mid-air to deliver a kick. But something that shouldn't have happened, happened. As you came down, Steve extended a hand, catching you firmly by the waist to stabilize your landing.

The moment Steve’s hands locked onto your waist, the sky changed. Thick, dark storm clouds suddenly swirled over the compound out of nowhere, completely blocking the sun in a matter of seconds. A massive, deafening rumble of thunder crashed directly overhead, accompanied by a simple, gravelly growl, “No.”

You blinked, looking over just in time to see Thor completely abandon his fight with the Hulk, turning his back on the training exercise entirely as he marched straight toward you.

“No,” he simply repeated, his face a mask of pure fury. Before you or Steve could even register what was happening, Thor reached out, his hands wrapping around your upper arms, and yanked you away from Steve, pulling you flush against his chest.

Your eyes narrowed into lethal slits, the physical contact setting your nerves on fire. “What the hell do you think you're doing?”

“I am removing you from Steve's arms,” he stated matter-of-factly, his chest heaving heavily against your back, his deep voice carrying a possessive finality.

Every single eye on the field was instantly focused on the two of you. The entire team stood frozen in pure shock—except for Steve. Steve would have been shocked too, if he hadn't just heard your confession three minutes prior.

“Thor, calm down,” Steve said evenly, raising his hands in a placating gesture.

But Thor snapped his head up, his blue eyes blazing with static electricity. “Do not talk, Steve,” he threatened, a rumble vibrating from his throat. Absolute displeasure and violence radiated off his massive frame.

“Don't,” you hissed, struggling fiercely against his iron grip, trying to wrench your arms free. “Don't you dare try to act all possessive now, when you are the one who regrets everything—“

“Regret?” Thor asked, the word cutting through his anger as he stopped, staring down at you. “Me?”

Then, to your utter fury, he let out a dark, breathless chuckle. “You are a hypocrite, Little Flame.”

Natasha took one look at the amount of tension and immediately turned to the rest of the team. “I think we should give them space.” Tony didn't even glance away, his eyes wide as he actively enjoyed the spectacle. It was like he was watching his absolute favorite primetime drama play out live. “Why? We're all outdoors. Shouldn't they be the ones to go inside for privac—“

“Tony,” Natasha said warning him.

“Okay, alright,” Tony caved, raising his hands.

He and the rest of the team quickly retreated toward the compound, but even Natasha couldn't help herself; the second they got inside, the entire lineup of Avengers pressed themselves against the glass doors, watching the drama unfold through the windows.

“What is that supposed to mean?” You countered fiercely, turning fully in his grip to face him, your chest heaving.

“You are the one who regrets everything! Flirting with Steve the second you came back—“

“Excuse me? We were not flirting!” you yelled back, chuckling in pure, broken frustration as you looked away for a split second before snapping your eyes back to his burning gaze. “We were talking, like friends do! Hold on—you don't get to question me on that, seeing as you were clearly comfortable flirting with her!”

Thor huffed, his eyebrows furrowing in genuine confusion. “Who have I flirted with?!”

“Don't play dumb now, Thor! THE RECEPTIONIST!” you screamed, the weight of the last forty-eight hours finally breaking through your defenses. Tears of hot, angry frustration built up rapidly in your eyes, blurring your vision as your voice cracked. “You left me the second the sun rose! You left the bed completely empty! And then you proceeded to go and flirt with her!”

“I was not flirting with her!” he bellowed, the desperation in his voice cracking through the thunder rolling above. “I woke up early because I wanted to surprise you,” he insisted, completely ignoring the venom dripping from your words. “You were sleeping so deeply... you looked so peaceful, and I did not want to wake you. I went down there specifically to get your favorite fruits and coffee to bring back to our quarters. That girl—she just approached me. I did not even hear a word she said, I swear it to you by the All-Father! I was only thinking of you.”

You scoffed, a broken, trembling sound. “And the smiling?” you challenged, your voice shaking despite your best efforts to keep your shields up. “You looked down at her and smiled, Thor. I saw you.”

He shook his head frantically, “I was smiling because I was happy!” he burst out, his massive chest heaving under his athletic shirt. “I was thinking about how you looked in my arms. I was thinking about what you told me before you slept. I was happy because of you, Little Flame. Not her. Never her.”

You stared up at him, your breath hitching sharply in your throat. He sounded so painfully sincere, so desperately eager to clear his name, but the cold dread of your own insecurities was still screaming in the back of your mind.

“You left the bed empty,” you whispered, your professional facade completely shattering as your voice cracked, exposing the raw, bleeding core of your heart. “You weren't there when I woke up.”

Thor froze. His eyebrows knitted together tightly as the realization of what you had been torturing yourself with finally dawned on his mind. His heart dropped straight to his stomach, a weight crushing him as he realized the terror and abandonment he had accidentally put you through.

“Oh, gods,” he breathed, his fierce, possessive expression melting into pure heartbreak. His voice cracked with emotion. “You thought I regretted it? You thought I left you?”

You looked away, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze. “You—“ You tried to speak, but a small, pathetic sniffle escaped you instead. The sound made Thor take a sharp, painful intake of breath. Moving instantly, his large hand came up, his fingers gently but firmly holding your chin to force your face back up so you had to look at him.

“I do not regret it. I could never regret it,” he said, his blue eyes swimming with a matching pain as he looked down at your tear-stained face.

You sniffled again, looking up at him through wet lashes. Your heart was beating frantically against your ribs, a spark of dangerous, beautiful hope flaring to life in your chest. Taking a breath, you asked something you never, in a million years, thought you would ever ask the arrogant god.

“Do you like me?” you whispered, your small hand coming up to hold the thick wrist of the arm holding your chin.

Thor's face immediately scrunched up into a deeply offended, dismissive expression. “Not so much.”

Your heart instantly dropped straight to your stomach, the rejection freezing your blood. “But you—“

Before you could finish the sentence, Thor reached out and grabbed your cheeks with both of his massive hands, tilting your head up as he brought his mouth down on yours. He kissed you deeply, passionately, a bruising, breathless possession that completely wiped all thoughts from your brain. When he finally pulled back just a fraction, his thumbs wiping the fresh tears from your cheeks, he continued his sentence.

“I do not like you. I am completely and utterly in love with you,” he confessed, the words hitting you right in the center of your chest.

A startled, watery laugh bubbled out of your throat. “You dumbass,” you chuckled, your hands moving to grip his forearms as a massive, radiant smile finally broke across your face. “Why would you word it like that?” Thor didn't care about his poor phrasing; his eyes were boring into yours with an intense, desperate seriousness. “Do you?” he asked, looking down at you with adoration.

“Do I what?”

“Regret it,”

“I don't,” you said, shaking your head without a single second of hesitation. “Why would I, when you are the man I am completely in love with?” you whispered, finally letting the confession pass your lips.

Thor’s blue eyes lit up like a blinding flash of lightning. A breathtaking smile split his handsome face, and without waiting another syllable, he slammed his lips back onto yours, kissing you with a ferocious, joyful hunger.

“I do not know what is wrong with me, Little Flame,” he mumbled against your lips between deep, bruising kisses. “I do not know how I did not realize sooner how pathetically in love I am with you.” His large hands slid down from your face, wrapping firmly around your waist and lifting you slightly off the grass to deepen the kiss, completely forgetting they were standing in the middle of a compound training field.

Inside the building, behind the massive glass doors, the entire lineup of Avengers was pressed flat against the window. Tony was rooted completely in place, his mouth agape, his hands raised in bewilderment. “Are you guys seeing what I am seeing, or am I hallucinating? Is Point break currently kissing Shadow?” Natasha stood next to him, a triumphant, knowing smirk spreading across her lips as she crossed her arms. “About damn time.”

Outside, Thor kept kissing you thoroughly, but suddenly, he pulled his face away by a mere inch. Your eyebrows knitted together in immediate irritation at the loss of contact. “What is it?” You asked. Thor hesitated, his jaw flexing as he muttered just one word, the lingering jealousy still clear in his tone: “Steve?”

You rolled your eyes, letting out a breathless laugh as you locked your hands behind his neck and pulled his head right back down to your lips. “Don't piss me off while I'm kissing you,” you murmured against his mouth.

Thor let out a low, vibrating hum of pure compliance against your lips. “You are right, I’m sorry, I love you,” he mumbled onto your mouth, his grip on your waist tightening as he buried his face back into yours.

—

Masterlist

Taglist: @sinceimetyou @awkwardgiraffe726 @midasgard @mediocre-introvert @gurlidkiread @claytaysversion @landocat

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORK TO BE FED INTO ANY AI BOTS. THIS INCLUDES CHARACTER.AI, JANITOR.AI, ETC. I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORKS TO BE TRANSLATED, REPOSTED, REWORKED IN ANY WAY, SHAPE OR FORM.

[smgespn]

Not So Much

Masterlist

Pairing: Thor Odinson X Reader

Summary: He was your teammate but also the person you disliked the most in the universe. He was always loud, he thrived on impulsive decisions, and he loved annoying you. You were the opposite, you moved through shadows quietly, analyzed every move before you made them. And now? They were sending you on a mission with him. Just the two of you. As husband and wife.

Content: Fake Marriage, Enemies To Lovers, Forced Proximity, Yearning, Tension, Slow Burn, Angst, Infinity War-Endgame Thor, King Thor, Protective Thor, Jealous Thor, Possessive Thor, Jealous Reader, They Are Touching Each Other Every Chance They Get, Bickering Final Boss, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Explicit SMUT (It starts from '—', and ends with it so you can skip it if you want)

Word Count: 40k

Note: I live for annoying but sweet Thor 😭 His most dominant personality traits i swear and the way he gets angry FAST😛 My mannn fr (took me a whole month to write this, not proofread sorry for any typos or mistakes)

Minors Do Not Interact

—

You wanted to kill him.

You wanted, with every fiber of your being, to wrap your hands around his thick, infuriating neck and choke the life out of him right there on the polished marble floor of the Avengers Compound kitchen. It was a beautiful, violent fantasy that played in your mind in vivid detail—but unfortunately for you, the man was a damn god, and your fingers would probably snap before his airway even constricted.

“I said no, Thor. I got here first,” you hissed, your voice a sharp, venomous whisper as you slammed your shoulder into his side, trying to forcefully shove his massive frame away from the espresso machine.

The sleek chrome appliance sat on the counter like a holy grail, reflecting the harsh morning light. At this ungodly hour, that single machine was the only thing bonding your soul to the realm of the living. You just loved your morning coffee too much. It was the one ritual that made your life feel somewhat normal. And he, as always, was standing squarely in the way—demanding, with all the unearned arrogance of Asgardian royalty, that he be the first one to use it.

“Stop pushing me away, will you? It does nothing but tickle me, Little Flame,” he grumbled, a deep sound that came from somewhere deep in his broad chest.

He didn't even look at you, his eyes fixed on the digital screen of the machine as his large hands came down to carelessly pry your fingers off his waist. Your eyes narrowed into lethal slits, the heat rising in your cheeks at the sound of the ridiculous nickname and the casual condescension dripping from his tone.

“I have been telling you for years, Thor, stop calling me that,” you snapped, pulling your hands back and crossing them over your chest in a furious, protective stance. “And what is that supposed to mean? Are you implying that I’m weak?”

Thor finally turned his head, his short, textured blonde hair catching the fluorescent lights. A lazy, incredibly punchable smirk broke across his handsome face. He held his massive, heavily muscled arm out horizontally, creating an unbreakable physical barrier that completely blocked you from reaching the coffee pods.

“Why? I think it rather suits you. Feisty little—”

Before he could finish the sentence, you slapped his forearm with a loud, resounding smack, grabbing his wrist with both hands and pulling down with all your weight, trying to rip his arm away from the machine. It was like trying to move a mountain with a piece of string.

“Weaker than me, surely,” he said, his smirk widening as he easily kept his arm locked in place against your full-body strain.

Okay, fine. He was stating a cold, unyielding fact. He was a cosmic entity. He was objectively, biologically stronger than you. Your cell structure had been locked in a permanent, un-aging loop by a rogue lab experiment, giving you endless youth and an unbreakable healing factor—not the brute strength to wrestle the God of Thunder. But you would rather walk barefoot on needles than ever admit his physical superiority to his face.

“What are you two bickering about again?”

Natasha’s exhausted, monotone voice sliced through the tension. She walked into the kitchen, holding an empty mug, her green eyes fixed on the two of you with the heavy, soul-deep weariness of a woman who was entirely done with you being at each other's throats every five minutes.

That was the true tragedy of your existence. Outside the reinforced walls of this compound, Thor was a global icon. He was the golden savior, a benevolent, charming god who was nice to every single human being he encountered. If you went to the press and told them how much he absolutely loved to torment, provoke, and annoy you on a daily basis, not a single soul on Earth would believe you. To the rest of the universe, he was a god. To you, he was a giant, golden-retriever-brained nuisance.

Your left eye literally twitched with fury as you whipped your head around to face Nat. “He’s being a child again!”

“I am only in need of my morning beverage—” Thor protested smoothly.

“I got here first!” You spun back toward him, throwing your hands up in the air, your eyes wide with erratic anger.

“And I will be drinking my coffee, first,” he replied with a smug tilt of his chin.

Before you could lunge forward to block him, his large fingers immediately darted past your face and pushed the start button. The machine whirred to life, a dark stream of espresso pouring directly into the ceramic cup you had painstakingly selected and placed there a minute ago.

Thor watched the liquid fill the mug, leaning his hip against the counter as he grabbed the handle. “See? Easy as that,” he mumbled, grinning straight into the steam as he took a slow, loud, deliberate sip right in front of your face.

Your face went a furious, burning red. Your breath hitched, your vision blurring with a wave of pure, chaotic rage. You wanted to grab that hot mug straight out of his hand and throw the boiling liquid right over his clean grey t-shirt. You wanted to watch the stain spread across his chest while you laughed in his face.

Honestly? That was a damn good idea. Your muscles coiled, your fingers twitching as you prepared to lunge at him and commit a felony.

But just as your sneakers gripped the tile, Natasha let out a sharp, interrupting sigh. “The team is waiting for you in the briefing room,” she said, turning on her heel and gesturing toward the sliding glass doors of the hallway. “Let’s go, lovebirds.”

The words cut through the kitchen like a sudden frost. You and Thor both froze instantly, the childish hostility evaporating into a stunned, icy paralysis.

“What?” you said in perfect unison. The word tore from your throats at the exact same second, your voices blending together as you both whipped your heads around to look at Natasha. But she didn't stop to explain—she simply walked down the corridor toward the war room, a wicked, knowing smirk playing on the corner of her lips as she left the two of you standing in the quiet kitchen, completely blindsided by the ominous weight of her words.

“Fucking weirdos everywhere,” you grumbled under your breath.

Before he could even swallow his next stolen sip, you forcefully jammed your palms right into the center of his chest. You used every single ounce of strength your muscles could muster up, throwing your entire body weight into the strike. You needed that damn coffee, and you would get that damn coffee.

Thor actually stumbled back a step, a booming chuckle ripping from his throat at the absolute volatility of your expression. You were completely furious. He honestly had no idea why annoying you brought him such immense satisfaction, but it did. It was an addiction at this point.

In his eyes, you were just absolutely no fun. From the very first day he met you, you had done nothing but jab at him for being too loud and obvious. You were always rolling your eyes, saying things like, “You only know how to smash things and be reckless, Thor,” and “Stealth is an actual concept, you know?”

Now, Thor didn't dislike a lot of people. He was a damn lovable person—the golden boy of the Nine Realms, and now, an absolutely attentive king. But when it came to you? He couldn't help it. You rubbed him the wrong way all the damn time, your sharp tongue grating on his nerves. He could say with absolute, unyielding certainty that he disliked you. A lot.

You were still grumbling under your breath about him stealing your favorite ceramic mug when you noticed his massive shadow was still hovering directly over you.

“Why are you still here?” you asked, your voice coming out far more irritated than it should have. You internally cursed yourself; you were giving him way too much power over your emotions.

“I simply want to watch you sip on your beverage after me,” he said, flashing you a brilliant, smug smile.

You huffed, grabbing your freshly poured cup from the machine. “Thor, just call it coffee. Calling it a beverage does not make it sound any fancier.”

You slid past his broad shoulder, taking a deliberate, aggressive sip of your drink before making your way toward the sliding glass doors of the briefing room. He immediately fell into step behind you, his massive, sweeping strides matching yours in a pure, frustrating rhythm.

“It does sound better when I call it a beverage,” he argued, his heavy leather boots thudding loudly against the floorboards as if he could make his statement more convincing by physical force.

“Sure, lord of thunder,” you murmured, a wicked, knowing smirk pulling at your lips. You knew exactly which buttons to push, and that specific title was your absolute favorite weapon.

“I am the god of thunder!” he hissed from behind you, his voice dropping into a defensive, offended rumble. “You know what? I know you are doing this on purpose—you are intentionally trying to—”

You pushed through the glass doors, entering the sleek, high-tech briefing room with the God of Thunder hot on your heels, still fiercely grumbling about the distinct theological differences between a lord and a god.

“Ah, our favorite couple, arguing again,” Tony said loudly, opening his arms wide in a dramatic, welcoming gesture from the head of the conference table. He leaned back in his chair, a classic, mischievous glint in his eyes. “Still not able to decide whether they want to kill each other or fuck—“

Before the final, crude word could even leave his mouth, your reflexes took over. Your hand blurred. You snatched a thick, heavy tactical folder from the edge of the table and launched it through the air with lethal, pinpoint precision.

Smack. The folder hit Tony squarely across the bridge of his nose, the papers scattering in a neat halo around his chair.

“Ow! Okay, there was absolutely no need for that,” Tony muttered, wincing as he gingerly adjusted his tinted glasses, though the smirk never truly left his face. He looked over at Natasha and Steve, who were already seated, completely unfazed by the morning violence.

“You talk too much, Stark,” Thor grumbled, pulling out a chair and dropping his massive frame into it with a loud thud that resonated through the room.

Your eyebrows shot up instantly as you sat down yourself. “Says you?” you retorted, gesturing toward his broad chest with your coffee mug. “You literally haven't shut up since the kitchen.”

“Let’s just focus on our objective, okay, guys?” Steve said, running a tired palm over his face, completely done with your collective energy so early in the morning. He pushed himself up from his seat next to Tony, leaning his broad shoulders over the holographic table to command the room.

Steve tapped the digital console, and the lights in the briefing room dimmed instantly, replaced by a glowing, three-dimensional blueprint of an ultra-private luxury island floating in the Mediterranean.

“Our focus is here: The Sanctuary,” Steve began, his voice dropping into his serious captain tone. “On paper, it’s an exclusive, hyper-secure resort for the world's billionaires, corrupt politicians, and elite criminals. But over the last forty-eight hours, our satellites intercepted an unencrypted dark-web signal bouncing from the island’s lower levels. A rogue faction has managed to smuggle a massive cache of volatile, leftover Dark Elf technology onto the premises. They’re hosting a private, black-market auction to sell it off to the highest bidder.”

You leaned forward, your brain instantly analyzing the island's perimeter. “So we drop in, neutralize the buyers, and secure the tech. Sounds like a standard Tuesday. Why are we all sitting here?”

“Because it’s a hostage situation waiting to happen if we go in loud,” Natasha spoke up from the corner, her fingers tapping against her tablet. “The entire island is rigged with a quantum-fission failsafe connected to the central vault. If the resort’s biometric security detects a frontal assault, a breach, or a single Quinjet on their radar, the system will instantly detonate the alien cache. It’ll vaporize the island and take half of Western Europe out with the blast wave. It requires a ghost to dismantle the failsafe from the inside.”

“A ghost?” you repeated, a slow, dark smile creeping onto your face. “Perfect. I’ll go in undercover as a maid, slip into the server room, kill the signal, and leave before anyone even finishes their champagne.”

“You’re half right,” Tony cut in, tapping his pen against his cheek. “You are going undercover. But you’re not going as a maid, Shadow. The resort has a strict, biometric-level verification system for all service staff, but their guest list is curated entirely by the billionaire owner—an eccentric, power-obsessed arms dealer named Moretti. He has a strict ‘No Media, Couples Only’ policy for his guests to protect their privacy.”

Tony smirked, leaning forward and typing a command into his console. The holographic display shifted from the island to a digital invitation, written in gold lettering, making your eyes go wide. No.

“Moretti is obsessed with power, gods, and mythology,” Tony explained, his eyes darting between you and the blonde King sitting across from you. “He doesn't just want money; he wants prestige. So, we gave him exactly what he wanted. We leaked a carefully staged, ‘top-secret’ paparazzi photo to the press this morning. The official narrative? The newly crowned King of Asgard has secretly retired from his bachelor days and eloped with a fierce, mysterious warrior woman.”

Your breath hitched violently in your throat. The coffee in your mug suddenly felt like acid.

“What?” you whispered, your heart stopping. You were an Avenger; you were known to the world, but you operated mostly in the quiet, precise darkness. To be thrust into the center of attention like this was your worst nightmare.

Thor froze, his hand stopping mid-air as he went to scratch his short blonde beard. His blue eyes went incredibly wide as he stared at the holographic invitation. “Stark—what madness are you speaking of?”

“It’s simple, lovebirds,” Natasha said, her voice laced with an infuriatingly calm amusement. “Moretti swallowed the bait hook, line, and sinker. The moment he saw the news that the King Of Asgard was on a secret honeymoon, he personally sent out an exclusive, all-access VIP invitation to the royal couple. You two are the ultimate distraction.”

Steve looked at the two of you, his expression sympathetic but unyielding. “Thor keeps all eyes on him by playing the loud, boastful, larger-than-life husband, giving you the perfect cover to move through the high-society crowds, slip into the shadows, and quietly dismantle the failsafe without triggering the biometric alarms. You need his status to get through the front door, and he needs your precision to make sure the island doesn't explode.”

“You expect me,” you said slowly, your voice dropping into a lethal, dangerous sound as you pointed a finger across the table, “to pretend to be blissfully, passionately in love with him? For how long exactly?”

“Not a soul here but you said passionately—“ Thor grumbled but was cut off by you, “Shut up, will you?”

Thor’s hands twitched, like he was holding himself from doing something irrational. He sighed a long breath, trying to compose himself, he didn’t think he could do this. Why did it have to be you, of all people?

But your skills in being a ghost were too good—too fucking perfect for your own good. So he knew the reason why it had to be you, but he protested anyway, he turned to Steve, “I do not see why she should be the one coming with me—“

You didn’t let him finish, rolling your eyes as you said “I’m not loving the idea either—“

“Depends on you, really. Could just be two days or a whole week.“ Steve said cutting both of you off as he looked at the both of you, clearly distressed at your brewing argument, again. “An entire week?” you said, your voice dripping with irritation, your jaw locking at the mere thought of it.

“Hey, it’s a tough gig, but someone’s gotta do it,” Tony chuckled, completely ignoring the murderous look you were throwing him across the table. “Congratulations, kids. Pack your bags. You’re going on a honeymoon.”

—

You were huffing and puffing as you aggressively packed your suitcases—yes, suitcases, plural.

You were practically tearing through your wardrobe, shoving in dresses, hats, sunglasses, and anything else you could get your hands on, entirely leaving the burden of actually coordinating an outfit for later. The second you had escaped the briefing room, you had fled to your quarters. The news was still pouring over you like boiling water, making your skin burn with a restless, defensive heat just thinking about it.

How the hell were you going to pretend to be his wife?

The only thing you were biologically capable of doing near that man was yelling at him, throwing files at his head, or arguing until you were blue in the face. He got on your nerves every single second of the day, provoking you with that smug arrogance of his, making you want to literally peel your own skin off your bones just to escape his proximity. And now you were supposed to look into his blue eyes and play the part of a blushing, smitten bride on a Mediterranean honeymoon. It was sick. It was a comedy of errors written by a cruel universe.

As you slammed another folded gown into the suitcase, your movements suddenly slowed. Your eyes caught sight of the faint, jagged scars marring the skin over your forearms and stomach.

A sudden, heavy wave of insecurity bubbled up inside your chest, overtaking the rage. The thought of being forced into revealing resort wear—of being paraded around an island full of hyper-critical, judgmental billionaires who you knew would dissect your every flaw—infiltrated your mind.

Usually, you were secure in your own skin. You were an Avenger, for God's sake. You were a lethal weapon, and honestly, you did wear dresses when the occasion called for it. But in this context? Under the blinding, global spotlight? You felt like a fraud. You felt like every single pair of eyes on that island would be glued to you, the judgmental, elitist sneers of high society cutting right through you simply because you were Thor’s goddamn wife. You were the woman who had supposedly tamed the King of Asgard, and they would be looking for any reason to tear you apart.

The scars were a permanent, physical gift from your torturers. The monsters who had turned you immortal years ago.

You could not die of age. You could not fall succumb to diseases. Even lethal wounds healed seamlessly within hours if properly attended to. You were stuck living like this forever, the terrifying nightmares from those months in the lab still playing in your mind night after night, making your throat go completely sore as you woke up screaming for them to stop. The experiments had broken your human limitations, locking your cellular structure in a permanent, un-aging loop.

You sharply rubbed at your eyes with the palms of your hands, trying to force the horrific memories to flee from your mind. The ghosts of your past loved to haunt you wherever you went, but you couldn't afford a breakdown today. Not with a flight to catch.

Letting out a heavy, defeated sigh, you declared yourself done with the chaotic packing. You bit your lip anxiously as you got ready for the travel day, pulling a simple, breezy white summer dress over your frame. The fabric flared gently around your knees, and you slid your feet into a pair of modest kitten heels. Finally, you pulled a soft white cardigan over your shoulders, fastening a few buttons, strictly wanting to ensure you wouldn't freeze before you reached your destination. You took one last look in the mirror, masking the assassin, masking the scars, and preparing to face your fate.

As you opened the door, struggling to maneuver your suitcases out of the room, you immediately heard his voice booming down the corridor.

“How are you going to carry those by yourself?” Thor asked, leaning against the wall with a wicked, entirely too handsome smile plastered across his face.

He was obviously going to help you. If the King of Asgard was anything, he was a gentleman down to his very bones—but he didn't just want to be helpful. He wanted to hear the words come out of your mouth. He wanted you to look him in the eye and actively admit that you needed his help. He knew you would absolutely hate doing it, which only made him crave it more.

“I can handle myself just fine,” you breathed out defensively. You leaned your weight back, using the rolling wheels of the suitcases to your advantage. Your pride was still firmly intact because you could easily drag them behind you on a flat surface, but you knew deep down that you couldn't physically lift both of these giant, overpacked cases at the same time down a flight of stairs. But he most definitely did not need to know that.

“Oh? So you don’t need any assistance at all?” he remarked smoothly. He was casually carrying his own massive tactical suitcase in one hand by the handle, his arm barely flexing. It was probably like holding a mosquito between his fingers for him.

“No. Especially not from you,” you huffed, your heels clicking sharply against the tile as you tried to wheel past him, clearly getting irritated by his mere existence.

“Hm,” he just mumbled, a deeply amused sound vibrating in his throat as he turned and watched you walk over to the elevator banks.

You aggressively pressed the down button, silently begging the universe for the doors to open as fast as humanly possible. You could feel Thor’s massive presence looming right behind you, practically radiating an eager energy, just waiting for another opportunity to prod at you.

“What are you waiting for?” you asked, your voice incredibly tight from pure annoyance.

He chuckled, the sound low and rumbling. “For the elevator, Little Flame. Same as you.”

You could feel his massive, broad frame standing directly behind your back. Even though there were a few inches of space separating you, he was like a literal furnace, a heavy, intoxicating heat radiating off his body and wrapping around your shoulders.

You rolled your eyes at the ceiling. “You can carry your own suitcase. I don't see why—” You abruptly cut yourself off, closing your eyes tightly, your face scrunching up in disdain.

Fuck. You had just walked right into his trap.

“Oh, so you cannot carry yours?” he prodded instantly, his tone dripping with sheer amusement. Your eyes opened back up immediately.

Where was this fucking elevator?!

Realizing the lift was taking too long, you sharply turned around to face him. Your bruised, stubborn ego completely hijacked your brain, making you snap at him before you could stop yourself. “I very much can!”

Thor looked down at you, his blue eyes sparkling with a level of amusement that was bordering on infuriating. “Oh, please, be my guest, will you?” He dramatically extended his free hand, gesturing toward the grand concrete staircase at the end of the hall. You huffed a sharp breath through your nose, your jaw locking. “Fine.”

You spun on your heels, deliberately dragging your heavy suitcases over to the very edge of the stairs, desperately delaying the exact moment you would actually have to lift them. When you finally reached the top step, you stopped and stared down at the luggage, your brain going into overdrive as you calculated the weight distribution.

Thor followed you, enjoying every single second of this entirely too much. Even his stance—weight shifted to one hip, a smirk playing on his lips—radiated absolute satisfaction.

“Struggling there?” he asked, taking a deliberate step closer to you.

“Not at all,” you lied through your teeth. Your eyes narrowed into lethal slits as you stared at him, and out of pure, stubborn stupidity, you grabbed the handles of both massive suitcases.

Bracing yourself in your goddamn kitten heels, you attempted to lift them both off the ground at the exact same time.

But the second your muscles tensed and you yanked them up, the combined, brutal weight of the luggage completely threw off your center of gravity. Your body violently swung forward toward the edge of the stairs, the momentum dragging you directly downward. A sharp, terrified yelp tore from your throat as your foot slipped on the smooth edge. You closed your eyes, waiting for the inevitable impact.

You were definitely going down. You were going to roll down a flight of concrete stairs in a white summer dress, become the laughing stock of the entire Avengers Compound, and probably severely injure yourself—meaning you'd have to hobble around the island waiting for your powers to slowly knit your bones back together. Amazing. Brilliant execution, babe, bravo.

But just as those thoughts raced through your mind, they disappeared entirely.

A massive, incredibly solid arm suddenly wrapped like an iron band around your waist. With one effortless, powerful pull, he caught your entire body weight, dragging you firmly back from the edge of the abyss and slamming your back flush against his broad, solid chest.

You opened your eyes—which you hadn't even realized you'd squeezed shut—and let out a shaky, breathless sigh of pure relief. Your heart was hammering like a drum against your ribs.

“Perhaps now, you will admit that you need me to carry them for you,” he mumbled. His voice was a gravelly rasp right against the back of your ear, his warm breath fanning across your skin and causing a shiver of goosebumps to erupt down your neck and arms.

Your breath caught. You quickly huffed, using your hands to pry his heavy arm away from your waist. The skin beneath your dress was practically burning from his touch, but you absolutely did not have the mental capacity to dwell on that right now.

You turned around to face him, your cheeks flushed, your expression a mixture of distress and absolute fury that you had just proven him entirely right.

“Fine,” you said, your voice tight and defeated.

Thor didn't move an inch out of your personal space. He looked down at you, his eyes slowly tracing over your flushed face and your white dress, a smug, triumphant look in his gaze.

“Fine, what?” he challenged softly, wanting every single syllable of his victory.

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, your pride fiercely battling against the cold reality of the situation. You darted a desperate look toward the elevator, but the glowing digital screen indicated it was still stuck on a lower floor. Frustrated and completely cornered, you aggressively slammed your right foot down against the tile floor like a spoiled child. He always brought that irritating, uncharacteristic side out of you.

“Okay,” you snapped, completely averting your gaze from his face as you mumbled, “Ineedyoutocarrymyluggageforme.”

The words tumbled out of your mouth in a single, rushed, completely unintelligible breath, your eyes locked onto the center of his chest.

“What?” Thor chuckled again, the hilarious sight of you stomping your foot and speaking at supersonic speed catching him entirely off guard. A deep, rumble of laughter shook his chest. “I did not quite get that, Little Flame. Can you say it again?” He was enjoying this far too much for his own good, the smug triumph radiating off him in waves.

“I need you to carry my luggage for me,” you enunciated sharply, every word dripping with pure annoyance.

Instead of just taking the win, Thor brought a thick finger to his chin, tapping it as if he were lost in deep thought. He scrunched up his handsome face, tilting his head. “I don’t think that was a really nice way of asking someone to carry your ginormous suitcases for you.”

“Ugh!” You let out a loud, frustrated yell, throwing your hands down to your sides as you forced yourself to look him dead in his sparkling blue eyes. “Will you please carry my luggage for me?”

He smiled triumphantly, his entire face lighting up like a kid on Christmas morning. He finally stepped forward and grabbed your two bags, arranging them in perfect order back-to-back so their elongated handles lined up close together. Then, with a single, massive hand, he closed his fingers over both handles at once. With his own tactical suitcase in his other hand, he effortlessly lifted all three massive bags off the floor without a single hint of strain.

The elevator suddenly dinged, the doors sliding open just as he hoisted the luggage into the air. Ordinarily, you would have completely lost your temper at timing like that. You would have cursed the universe out loud for making you beg for help only for the elevator to arrive a second later.

But the words died in your throat.

The sight of him carrying all three heavy suitcases at once made you breathe in a sharp, sudden gasp. Your pulse skipped a beat in your chest, and your eyes involuntarily roamed all over his frame. He had changed out of his grey t-shirt before coming to your door; he was now wearing a tight black t-shirt that hugged the broad expanse of his chest and shoulders, paired with tailored charcoal linen pants and black loafers.

He looked good. So fucking hot, in fact, that it sent an unexpected, electric tingle shooting straight through your core and settling deep in your stomach. The sight of his veins popping and his massive biceps bulging as he easily carried the weight of your entire life in one hand was—

What the fuck? What the hell was wrong with you?

You were fully aware that the King of Asgard possessed heart-stoppingly good looks—the entire planet was aware of it—but his infuriating behaviour toward you usually stopped you from ever enjoying the sight. You were supposed to dislike him. You were rivals. But what the fuck had just happened to your brain?

You sharply cleared your throat, forcefully tearing your eyes away from his arms as your cheeks burned a bright, furious crimson. Desperate to hide your sudden fluster, you quickly turned and marched past him, going down the staird in a fastened pace.

Thor smoothly followed behind you, his loafers making zero noise on the concrete, while your heels clicked loudly and rapidly down the steps, echoing your erratic, racing heartbeat.

Thor was watching you walk down the stairs before him, still visibly fuming that he had managed to break your stubborn streak and force a please out of your mouth. He was utterly relishing the victory, a brilliant, smug smile that practically screamed he had won etched across his handsome features while he effortlessly balanced your massive luggage in his grip.

But his smugness didn't last long.

You huffed, stopping for a brief second on the landing. With a fluid, deliberate motion, you slid your white cardigan off your shoulders, pooling the fabric into one hand. The sudden movement exposed the sharp, elegant lines of your collarbones in the strapless white dress. You flipped your hair to one side, completely baring the smooth expanse of your neck to the air—and to him. Then, as if you couldn't quite decide what kind of sensory torture you wanted to execute on the King of Asgard, you started heading down the remaining stairs, your hips swaying with a natural, intoxicating rhythm.

Thor took a sudden, sharp breath at the sight before him. His blue eyes went wide, running over your frame, completely unable to decide where to look. His gaze got hopelessly caught on the soft curve of your shoulders, the narrow dip of your waist, the hypnotic roll of your hips.

A hot rush of blood surged to his head. His breath caught violently in his chest, and for the first time in his immortal life, the God of Thunder actually stumbled on a concrete step. His black loafer clipped the edge, his chest heaving as he quickly caught himself.

What the actual hell was happening? He was well aware that you were breathtaking; he had seen the way people’s heads turned whenever you walked into a room without you even trying. But this? This reaction was entirely uncalled for. He disliked you. He disliked your sharp tongue and the way you always had a quip ready to jab at him. He shouldn't be admiring you, yet his heart was currently hammering against his ribs like a war drum.

Hearing his sudden, heavy stumble, you paused and turned your head back to see what was wrong. You found him standing a few steps above you, his jaw slightly slack. A wicked smile slowly bloomed across your face.

“What was that, Your Majesty? Are they too much for you to carry?” you taunted, shifting your body so your chest was fully turned toward him.

Thor’s eyes helplessly drifted downward to your now fully visible chest, his breath catching for a second time that day. The flush on his neck deepened. He aggressively cleared his throat, forcing his eyes up to meet your smirking face.

“Hah! I can move literal mountains, Little Flame. These trinkets are nothing to me,” he mumbled defensively, his voice a bit more rushed than usual. “I simply lost my balance is all.”

Desperate to escape your mocking gaze, he practically ran down the remaining stairs, his loafers squeaking slightly against the polished concrete as he hurried into the main lobby with all three suitcases clutched tightly in his hands.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you watched him go, continuing your descent. The discarded cardigan remained clutched in your hand; you felt entirely too hot, your own racing thoughts making your skin flush. You gulped, trying to aggressively shoo the bizarre tension out of your mind. You hated him. You needed to get a grip.

When you finally reached the expansive glass entrance of the compound, Thor was already standing there, deep in a heated discussion with Tony.

“Why spend hours traveling in one of your metal birds when we can get there in seconds?” Thor was arguing, his brow furrowed in genuine, godly confusion.

Tony turned toward you as you approached, a wicked, entirely too amused smirk lighting up his face. “Ah, perfect timing, Shadow. Point Break here is staging a mutiny. He says you two don't need to board a plane or take a Quinjet.”

“How come?” you asked, your blood suddenly running cold. An ominous weight dropped into your stomach because you could already guess exactly what the god of thunder had in mind.

“Stormbreaker can take us across the world in seconds,” Thor said, turning his massive frame toward you, completely serious.

“But—” you started, your mind frantically grasping for any viable excuse to avoid being that physically close to him for a cosmic teleportation ride. “But how will you carry the luggage while we traverse realms? It’s impossible.”

“You just hold onto me, and I will handle the rest,” he said easily, dismissively, as if he were explaining the most simple, mundane task in the world. You swallowed hard, your heart doing a strange flip. “But Thor, you have to hold Stormbreaker in one hand, and the luggage in the other. What about me? Where am I supposed to go?”

Thor let out a sharp, irritated huff, clearly done with you dragging out the inevitable. “I said I will handle it. Now, let us go.”

He turned away, marching through the sliding glass doors into the bright morning air. He dropped his own suitcase onto the concrete pavement and extended his right hand toward the sky. Within a split second, a loud, crackling boom echoed through the compound as the massive, heavy blade of Stormbreaker flew from his room straight into his waiting palm.

With practiced, terrifying strength, he gathered the handles of all three massive suitcases into his other hand, hoisting them up effortlessly. He turned his head, his short blonde hair catching the sunlight, and motioned sharply with his chin for you to come closer.

You narrowed your eyes at him stubbornly, crossing your arms over your chest. “What if I don’t want to—” Before you could even finish your protest, Thor’s patience snapped. In one swift, blur of a movement, his massive hand shot out and grabbed you firmly by the wrist.

You let out a sharp yelp as he effortlessly yanked you forward into his personal space, his strength completely overriding your balance. He forcefully guided your arms around his thick middle, pulling you so close that your cheek was muffled right against the hard, solid muscle of his chest.

You could feel his heavy pectoral muscles instantly tighten at the sudden contact, a wave of intense, radiating heat washing over you. Before you could even open your mouth to yell at him for handling you so roughly, his deep, rumbling voice vibrated right through his chest wall against your ear. “Hold on tight.” And with a sudden, blinding flash of blue electricity, he raised Stormbreaker high into the sky.

A blinding burst of color erupted all around you as the Bifrost engulfed you both. The roaring force of the cosmic energy threatened to rip you away, and you instinctively closed your eyes tightly, holding yourself steady by gluing your body entirely to his. Your fingers dug firmly into the fabric of his shirt, pulling yourself so close that there wasn’t a single millimeter of space left between your chest and his.

Then, just as quickly as it had begun, the rushing roar vanished.

You felt your heels solidly touch the ground, arriving at your destination in a second. For a moment, your hands remained tightly locked around his middle and your face was still pressed right against the warm, hard muscle of his chest, you could hear his heartbeat thudding against his ribs.

Slowly, you forced your eyes open and pulled your face back, blinking against the sudden, brilliant glare of the Mediterranean sun.

The Sanctuary stretched out before you, you were standing on a private, pristine white-stone terrace that overlooked a sprawling, crescent-shaped bay. The water below was a blinding, translucent turquoise, so clear that you could see the dark, shifting shadows of coral reefs deep beneath the surface. Sleek, multi-million-dollar superyachts were anchored in the distance, polished and gleaming under the midday sun.

The resort itself was built directly into the towering, sun-bleached cliffs of the island. It was a marvel of modern, minimalist design blended with ancient luxury—all clean white concrete, floor-to-ceiling glass panels, and cascading infinity pools that seemed to spill directly into the ocean below. Lavish, vibrant pink bougainvillea and lush green palms draped over stone walkways, softening the sharp lines of the villas.

Your nostrills filled with the scent of saltwater, expensive citrus perfume, and blooming jasmine. In the distance, you could hear the faint, muted clinking of crystal glasses and the smooth, ambient lounge music drifting from an exclusive beachfront pavilion. It was entirely peaceful, completely hidden from the rest of the world, and crawling with some of the most dangerous, corrupt elite on the planet.

You let out a slow breath, your eyes immediately mapping out the security cameras hidden in the palm trees and the heavily armed guards dressed in casual, matching resort linen suits.

“You can let go of me now, Little Flame,” Thor’s deep voice murmured directly above you, a distinct trace of that familiar, smug amusement vibrating right against your hands. “Unless, of course, you are already enjoying the perks of marriage.”

You blinked, sharply pushing yourself away from his broad chest. “You wish,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes as you aggressively smoothed down the wrinkled fabric of your white summer dress. “I’m not exactly into lords, anyway. I prefer a much stronger title.”

“Good thing I am not a lord, then,” he replied smoothly. For the first time, he didn't get defensive or angry at the jab. Instead, he just stood there, smiling down at you with a gaze so wicked that you could practically feel the blood rushing straight to your head.

You internally groaned, chastising yourself. Stupid girl. You really should have thought beforehand that he would turn your own words right back on you like that. But before your scrambled brain could piece together a proper, biting retort, the heavy footsteps of the resort's security staff cut you off.

“Are you invited, sir?”

A burly bodyguard in a pristine, light-blue linen suit approached the two of you. His voice was laced with a deep, unmistakable tone of respect; he clearly recognized the King of Asgard, but he was trying to maintain the island's strict protocol.

“Yes,” you intervened seamlessly, sliding in front of Thor. Your training kicked in instantly, and a perfected, dazzling smile etched itself onto your face. You held up your phone, displaying the exclusive, gold-rimmed digital invitation Tony had intercepted.

The bodyguard scanned the screen, nodding, but his cautious gaze quickly drifted down to the massive, terrifying axe gripped firmly in Thor's left hand. “We... do not allow weapons on the resort grounds, sir. If you could leave it with security—”

“Ah, that is easily remedied,” Thor interrupted cheerfully. With a casual flick of his wrist, the massive, razor-sharp blade of Stormbreaker melted away, shrinking down until it transformed into a simple, polished black umbrella. You whipped your head around to look at the object, completely deadpan. “An umbrella? In this weather?” you muttered, gesturing to the cloudless, blazing mediterranean sky.

Thor’s eyebrows furrowed at you, his jaw tightening in annoyance at your public critique. “Well, there is something called a summer rain, sweetheart,” he said, faking an incredibly sweet, doting smile for the sake of the watchibg guard, though his blue eyes promised absolute murder.

“I don’t think it’s going to rain anytime soon, honey,” you shot back, your voice dripping with a deep, sickeningly fake sugary sweetness as your own plastic smile widened. Before you could take another breath, Thor’s massive arm suddenly shot out, wrapping securely around your waist and forcefully dragging you flush into his side for a tight, suffocating hug.

A sharp, undignified yelp tore from your throat at the sudden impact, but you quickly cleared your throat, masking your shock as you gripped his forearm. He was absolutely enjoying torturing you, using the doting husband act as the perfect excuse to handle you however he pleased. You were going to kill him.

“I can make it rain anytime I wish,” he murmured, his tone biting at you in a dangerous, playful whisper that sent an involuntary shiver down your spine. He flashed one last dazzling smile at the bewildered bodyguard. “Now, let us go to our room, yeah?”

After that, the guard politely led you both through the sweeping glass doors toward the main lobby, where a receptionist stood behind a white marble desk, a bright, welcoming smile on her face.

“Welcome to The Sanctuary. Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Odinson,” she said smoothly, but the moment the words left her mouth, you saw her cringe a bit, her eyes darting between the digital registry and your face as she thought the names over. You noticed the hesitation instantly, Odinson did sound incredibly weird when referring to a woman.

“Is that your last name now, madam? Should I call you that?” she genuinely asked, looking a bit flustered, as if she were desperately trying to avoid making a mistake.

A massive grin broke across your face while Thor’s expression instantly soured. Oh, you liked this receptionist already.

“I genuinely have no idea. It does sound completely off when you say it like that, doesn't it?” you said, leaning against the marble desk. Then, you slowly turned your head to look up at him, your eyes wide with mock innocence. “Honey, is my last name Odinson now? Wouldn't that literally just mean I’m a son of Odin? I mea—”

He cut you off instantly, his jaw clenching as he growled under his breath, clearly pissed. “Well, we are in Midgard, darling. So your last name is now Odinson here, no? It is how things are done on this realm.” He forced out a tight, blindingly fake smile, trying his absolute best not to throw off the receptionist standing inches away.

You smiled right back, utterly loving the fact that you had managed to piss him off so quickly. You turned back to the receptionist, giving her a conspiratorial look. “Or you could just call me by my former last na—”

“No.” Thor cut you off again, his deep voice dropping an octave, completely unyielding as his blue eyes threw literal daggers down at you. “She will be referred to as Mrs. Odinson.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, your smile faltering for a split second. That was a remarkably quick, fiercely defensive reaction from him. Why the hell did he care so much about a fake human registry?

Recovering quickly, you huffed out a light, airy fake laugh for the receptionist's benefit, gesturing toward the rigid King beside you. “He gets incredibly defensive in situations like this,” you told her. Then, leaning in slightly, you whispered in a stage-whisper, “Male ego, am I right?” The receptionist let out a quiet, knowing chuckle and nodded her head in absolute agreement, clearly understanding exactly what you meant.

“I will show you to your room then, Mrs. Odinson,” she said, stepping out from behind the marble desk and motioning toward a glass elevator that overlooked the turquoise bay, while waving over a bellboy to take the three giant suitcases from Thor's hands.

Thor let the bellboy take the suitcases, his hands finally free as he followed the two of you toward the glass lift. The receptionist held the elevator doors open, gesturing politely with an extended hand, and once you and Thor stepped inside, she followed, pressing the button for the upper residential levels.

The elevator began its smooth ascent. Thor looked around the glass enclosure, his massive arms folding tightly over his broad chest. The movement made his biceps bulge prominently against the fabric of his t-shirt, and your traitorous eyes immediately darted downward, following the sharp lines of his muscles before you could even stop yourself.

“I like this Midgardian facility,” Thor remarked, his deep voice echoing in the enclosed space as he looked out at the view. “It is quite nice.”

“Me too. Love the design, honestly.” you said smoothly, flashing a perfect, effortless hand gesture, but as your eyes finally flicked away from Thor’s arm, you caught something out of the corner of your eye. A sudden, entirely unknown feeling brewed in the pit of your stomach.

The receptionist was staring at Thor’s arms. And she wasn't just glancing; she was so goddamn focused, her eyes tracing the thick veins of his biceps, that she didn't even notice your lethal gaze cutting right through her.

You were definitely taking it back—you did not like this girl at all.

Before your brain could even process the irrational spike of possessiveness, you acted on pure instinct. You stepped right into his space, cleared your throat sharply, and forcefully reached up to uncross his arms.

“What are—” Thor started, entirely caught off guard by the unexpected intrusion.

He was completely silenced as you forcefully dragged his broad frame down into a tight side hug. Your arm slid securely over his back, anchoring him to you, and you felt his breath hitch violently at the sudden contact. He froze for a second, his chest heaving, before he cleared his throat and let his massive hand find the curve of your waist, pulling you securely against his hip.

You kept your eyes locked dead on the receptionist, claiming your territory with absolute, unyielding dominance. You flashed her a wicked, razor-sharp smile. The girl's cheeks instantly flushed crimson, and she averted her eyes toward the floor, clearly mortified that she had been caught staring at a married man, beside his wife at that.

The second the threat was neutralized, your actions crashed down on you. You had absolutely no idea what had just come over you, or why the fuck you would ever do something like that over Thor. Okay, you probably—definitely did that because the thought of another woman disrespecting you by looking at your husband made you want to commit murder. Correction, supposed husband. Still he was your fucking husband for now and she was looking at him and— It’s all about you really, all good. Nothing to worry about.

Your face burned with a furious heat as you forced your gaze straight ahead, refusing to look at him, but you could feel the immense weight of his blue eyes staring down at the side of your face—burning you, fucking scorching you with an intense, questioning gaze.

Thankfully, the elevator dinged, saving you from the embarrassment.

The doors slid open, and you caught your first breathtaking sight of the upper facility. It wasn't a standard, enclosed hotel corridor. Instead, the elevator opened directly into the brilliant, open air of the cliffside. It was designed like an exclusive luxury resort enclave; the elevator connected the lower main lobby directly to an expansive, sun-drenched outdoor terrace that led to the private villa section of the property.

Stone pathways winded through lush, manicured tropical gardens, flanked by cascading water features and private infinity pools that looked like they hung off the edge of the world. The ocean breeze hit your face instantly, lifting the hem of your white dress, but the burning weight of Thor’s hand still resting firmly on your waist made it impossible to feel the cold.

You followed the receptionist, her eyes now glued strictly forward as she walked, her posture stiff with the embarrassment of the whole situation.

You tried to subtly peel yourself away from Thor’s side, but the moment you moved, the heavy grip of his hand on your waist tightened significantly. Your eyes instinctively glanced upward to him, ready to snap, but he was simply looking around at the passing scenery, appearing completely unbothered by the situation. Why wouldn't he let go? You wondered why the hell he would keep you tethered to his side like this, as if he actively wanted you there.

Then, doing something you thought you would absolutely never do, you let him. You quietly surrendered, allowing him to hold you tight against his hip as you both walked down the sun-drenched stone path.

Other elite couples passed you by, their judgmental eyes scanning you up and down as they noted the stunning, mysterious woman on the arm of the Asgardian King. This is exactly why he is keeping you glued to him, a strict, grounding voice echoed in your mind. Do not forget the objective, or the fact that you both could never, ever like each other like that. You swallowed hard, your own hand involuntarily tightening around his side for a split second. Why the fuck would you even think otherwise?

The receptionist finally approached a secluded, breathtaking cliffside villa. She opened the heavy timber door for you, stepping aside to hand you the room keycards.

The moment you stepped across the threshold, your eyes widened at the sight before you. Your blood ran completely cold. You let go of his waist immediately, and this time he actually let you.

Your hands were slightly shaking as you looked around the massive, sunlit room. Why hadn't you thought of this earlier? Ofcourse. It was painfully obvious. You were pretending to be a married couple on a honeymoon, after all.

You looked beside you only to see Thor standing entirely frozen, his lips slightly agape and his breathing turning shallow and fast as you both simultaneously realized how profoundly fucked up this mission actually was.

There was only one fucking bed.

It was a massive, ultra-luxurious king-sized bed, draped in crisp white linens and pushed directly against the center of the room, facing the glass walls that looked out over the ocean. Thor couldn't believe his own stupidity; how could he have thought he wouldn't have to share a bed with you on a mission where you were supposed to be blissfully in love? This mission was officially going to be the absolute death of him.

He slowly turned his head to look down at you, only to find you already staring up at him with completely bewildered, panicked eyes.

“I hope you like your room. Have a wonderful stay, Mr. and Mrs. Odinson,” the receptionist said, her voice finally breaking the tense silence that had descended upon the room.

The sound of her talking jolted you both out of your shared panic. You didn't even look at her fully, only giving a stiff side-eye and a tight nod before she quickly scrambled out of the room, shutting the heavy door behind her.

The second the click of the lock echoed through the villa, you spun on your heels to face him. Your voice was sharp, defensive, and entirely determined as you pointed a finger at him. “I will sleep in the bed.”

His eyes narrowed at you instantly. “No, I will,” he counter-attacked, and with two long, authoritative strides, he walked over to the bed and sat down heavily on the mattress, trying to claim the territory by physical force. You scoffed loudly, refusing to back down. You marched right over to the edge of the bed and sat down forcefully beside him, turning your body to face him dead-on. “I will,” you repeated stubbornly, your jaw locking.

Thor snorted, a challenge dancing in his blue eyes. “Okay, then. You will simply be sleeping next to me.”

Your eyes widened in sudden panic as you huffed out a sharp breath. “What?” you said, utterly bewildered by the casualness of his suggestion.

He rolled his eyes, gesturing broadly to the sprawling mattress behind him. “This is a massive bed, love. We both can fit, clearly.”

The moment the casual pet name slipped from his tongue, Thor internally bit down on it, desperately trying to maintain his stoic composure. What the fuck is my problem? he wondered, a silent storm raging in his mind as he stared at your flushed face. There was no one here to perform for. The door was locked. Yet his brain was completely short-circuiting.

Your breath hitched in your throat. Why the hell would he call you that when there wasn't a single soul around to witness it? You swallowed hard, trying to inject some of your usual venom back into your voice to hide your racing pulse. “You are ginormous, Thor. You would probably just roll over in the middle of the night and crush me to death or something—”

“I would never,” he said softly, cutting you off. He looked directly at you, his gaze suddenly changing into an intensity so deeply serious, that it made your heart give a treacherous flutter against your ribs.

You gulped, your mind going entirely blank. You tried to grasp for another excuse, another biting retort, but the gravity of his presence was making you forget everything else besides him.

Thor’s eyes roamed all over your face, desperately trying to dissect whatever panicked thoughts were racing through your mind. But as his gaze drifted downward, your bare arms caught his eye.

His breath hitched violently. His eyebrows furrowed into a deep, troubled line as his vision focused entirely on your skin.

How the hell had he never noticed them before?

Faint, jagged scars were littered all over your arms, disrupting your otherwise flawless skin. They were the unmistakable, ghostly remnants of... what? How could you have possibly acquired them? He knew you possessed an advanced healing factor—he had seen you bounce back from lethal battle wounds within hours—so if these marks remained, the trauma that caused them must have been unfathomable. It must have happened before you ever gained your abilities. But how did you even get your powers?

Thor realized, with a jarring pang in his chest, that he knew absolutely nothing about your history. He knew nothing of what had happened to you, where you had come from, or how you had earned those marks. A dark, protective rage began to brew in his chest, his breathing turning ragged as he stared at the faint lines.

You noticed the exact second his eyes shifted. A cold, suffocating dread pooled in your stomach.

Nobody outside of Tony, Steve, Natasha, and Bucky knew what had happened to you. Tony and Steve knew because they were the ones who had found you, breaking into that dark Hydra facility to save your life. Natasha knew because she was your absolute closest friend, the person who held you through the worst of the night terrors. Bucky knew only because you had trusted him with the truth, knowing he was the only one who truly understood the agony of being a broken, unwilling assassin.

But Thor? Thor hadn't been there when you were saved. He had been worlds away, dealing with the high-stakes matters of Asgard. And you, of course, had never told him. How could you? When he had finally returned to Earth and met you for the very first time, he had simply looked at you deadpan and muttered, “She looks gloomy.”

The comment had broken you. Before he had ever spoken to you, you had thought him absolutely extraordinary. The exact second you had caught sight of his legendary, powerful frame, an intense, quiet attraction had sparked inside you. But he had broken all of that in a single second by calling you gloomy, bruising your defensive ego and forcing you to react in the absolute worst way possible—yelling at him and starting a years-long war of petty arguments. He was the only person on the team who could ever get you to react with such unhinged irritation.

Now, your heart dropped straight to your stomach at the horrifying thought of him having another piece of leverage over you. He could never know the truth. You couldn't let him see your vulnerability.

As you watched his eyes frantically trace the lines on your skin, his massive left hand slowly ascended, his fingers instinctively reaching out to gently touch your arm.

The impending contact made you take a sharp, terrified breath. Your fight-or-flight response slammed into overdrive, and you abruptly stammered out a quick, “I have to pee!” Before he could even respond, you bolted off the mattress, practically running toward the privacy of the bathroom.

You rubbed your face as you gulped, staring at your reflection in the mirror.

I have to pee? Seriously? You couldn’t have found anything better to say?

The faster we are done with this, the better, you thought to yourself, anxiously pacing around the marble bathroom. Steve had said the mission could take anywhere from two days to an entire week. You were strictly determined to wrap this up in two days max—because if you didn't, so help you God, you were going to go completely insane.

You splashed ice-cold water on your face, breathing out a long, shaky exhale. You could do this. You could endure this. This was absolutely nothing compared to the horrors you had survived in your past, but for some reason, why did it feel like this was even worse?

Steeling your nerves, you finally walked out of the bathroom, only to see Thor standing outside on the terrace, his massive back turned to you. Your eyes involuntarily roamed over his broad figure, and you breathed out a long breath to calm your racing heart.

He heard you step into the room—of course he did. He turned back toward you, locking his blue eyes onto your face as he made his way back inside. “I like it here,” he mumbled, looking around the room before his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Where are our things? That servant took—”

Your eyebrows shot up instantly. “Servant?”

“Yes. The one who took our bags.”

You let out an involuntary, nervous giggle as you sat back down on the edge of the bed, rolling your eyes. “Thor, he’s not a servant. He’s a bellboy.” His brow furrowed even deeper. “Bellboy?”

“Yes. People who carry luggage to the rooms in hotels are called bellboys.”

“So... they are servants?” he repeated stubbornly. You huffed, deeply annoyed by his royal dense-headedness. “Thor, do not call anyone a servant to their face. It’s incredibly belittling and—” Right as the lecture was leaving your mouth, a sharp knock echoed from the front door.

“Ah! The servant is here,” Thor declared triumphantly, immediately striding toward the entryway to open it.

“Thor, no—” you gasped, scrambling up from the bed. You were desperately trying to intercept him, wanting to avoid a catastrophic conversation where he would inevitably embarrass the poor resort worker.

But Thor was too fast. He swung the door open and casually leaned his massive shoulder against the wall, watching the bellboy roll your three giant suitcases into the villa’s foyer. However, instead of ignoring you, Thor’s blue eyes were suddenly gleaming with pure mischief as he looked across the room at your panicked face.

Your eyes narrowed into lethal slits. You fiercely mouthed a very deliberate, aggressive 'No' to him.

But seeing your panic only made his smug smile widen. The exact second he opened his annoying, beautiful mouth to speak, your instincts slammed into overdrive. Your brain completely short-circuited. You scrambled over to him in a blind, chaotic rush. Before he could utter a single syllable, you threw yourself into his personal space, your arms wrapping securely around his thick neck as you hopped completely on top of him, forcefully pressing his face right into the crook of your neck to physically muffle his mouth against your skin.

Thor froze dead in his tracks. The sudden impact of your body would have knocked any human man flat on his back, but he didn't even sway. His breath hitched sharply, and his massive hands instinctively shot down, grabbing the back of your thighs to hold you up without breaking a single sweat.

The bellboy’s eyes went completely wide at the unexpected, intensely passionate display.

Your face burned a scorching, furious red as you awkwardly tilted your head back, your arms still locked around Thor's neck. “Just... love my husband so much, you know? Can’t help myself,” you breathed out, your voice strained as you forced a bright, desperately in love smile.

The bellboy nodded quickly, his eyes still dinner-plate wide as he awkwardly parked the luggage.

Thor’s head had been pinned right against your neck, but he suddenly lifted his head up forcefully, his godlike strength easily overriding your desperate attempt to hold him still.

“Cannot keep her hands to herself, this one,” Thor told the bellboy, a deep, rumbling chuckle vibrating through his chest. He was smiling brightly, clearly enjoying every single second of this absolute ordeal.

You literally could not believe you had just done that. You were just trying to spare the poor worker’s feelings, and—okay, fine, you absolutely did not need to jump on top of him like a koala. But in that split second of panic, your brain had completely ruled out kissing him as an option—obviously, because why were you even thinking of it in the first place?—, leaving you with no choice but to launch yourself at him to take him off guard.

The mortified bellboy practically scrambled out of the villa, quickly wishing you both a good day before slamming the door shut.

You let out a massive sigh of relief, your forehead dropping against Thor's shoulder. You hadn't even been able to give the poor guy a tip. You shook your head in deep disapproval, your gaze finally snapping back up to look at Thor.

And that’s when your brain finally caught up to the reality of your physical situation.

The room was dead silent. Thor was staring down at you with an incredibly intense, dark, and unreadable gaze. He was still holding you entirely aloft in his arms. Your legs were circled tightly around his broad waist, his heavy hands were gripping the bare skin under your thighs, and your goddamn summer dress had completely ridden up your legs. The direct, calloused touch of his palms against your skin was burning you like liquid fire.

Your breathing suddenly grew shallow and fast. Oh god. You needed to get off of him right now.

You swallowed hard, subtly shifting your weight to slide down, but his grip remained like iron bands. You couldn't move.

“You can let go now, you know?” you whispered, your voice lacking its usual bite as you stared into his intense blue eyes.

Thor aggressively cleared his throat, looking momentarily startled by how close your lips were to his. But within a fraction of a second, that goddamn smug, teasing smile started slow-burning across his face. You knew that exact expression, and it never meant anything good for your sanity.

“Why?” he murmured, his voice dropping into a low, rumbling rasp that sent a wave of heat straight to your core. “You willingly hopped into my arms, Little Flame. I might as well enjoy the embrace.”

You gasped in absolute outrage, sharply slapping his broad chest with your palm as you desperately tried to wrench yourself out of his grip. He was being annoying, cruel, and completely, fucking insufferable.

“Just let go of me, you pervert!” you snapped, your right hand desperately attempting to peel his iron grip off your bare leg.

He finally let go of you with a low, rumbling chuckle, clearly enjoying annoying you far too much for his own good. “Pervert? I am not the one who jumped blindly into your arms, Little Flame.”

You flushed a furious crimson, sharply turning your back to him to hide the heat on your face. “Let's just fucking get ready and try to find some info on our objective,” you muttered tightly. You grabbed one of your massive suitcases, plopping it down onto the luggage rack with a heavy thud, and unzipped it. Behind you, his quiet, amused chuckles continued to bounce off the walls, making your blood boil with pure anger, but you forced your mouth shut.

You aggressively rummaged through your clothes, grabbing a white, high-cut skimpy monokini and a breezy dress to wear over it. Clucthing the fabric to your chest, you marched straight back into the bathroom to get ready.

You locked the door, taking a few ragged breaths to settle your racing pulse. You fixed your hair, and carefully slipped into the monokini and the dress. Standing in front of the mirror, you let out a long exhale, though your face was still burning with a deep, stubborn embarrassment. You could do this. It was just a mission.

You emerged from the bathroom, deliberately looking anywhere but at Thor as he smoothly stepped past you to go get changed himself. You walked over to the vanity, but a few moments later, his booming, deeply confused voice echoed from the other side of the door.

“This just looks like underwear.”

The bathroom door swung open, and Thor walked out, looking down at himself with a bewildered expression. The second your eyes landed on him, you literally choked on your own spit.

He was wearing a pair of simple navy swimming trunks—and absolutely nothing else. No shirt, no linen button-down, nothing to cover the massive expanse of his upper body.

Your eyes involuntarily danced over his frame, your mouth falling slightly agape as you took him in. The midday sun streaming through the glass walls caught every single ridge of his body. Your gaze traced the thick, prominent veins running over his forearms and bulging biceps, moving up to the broad, heavy expanse of his chest, and dropping down to his rock-hard, perfectly sculpted abs.

Oh, fuck. You felt a sharp, electric flutter ignite deep down in your stomach.

“We Asgardians just go into the waters naked to swim, you know,” he stated proudly, adjusting the waistband of the trunks. “This Earth clothing feels ridiculous.”

He was probably referring to times back home when he did exactly that—swimming freely in royal Asgardian lakes, likely with beautiful women. But the sudden, intrusive mental image of going swimming with a completely naked Thor made you gulp harshly, your eyes widening in panic.

And that was the exact moment he caught the state of your face.

Thor froze. His breath hitched in his throat as his blue eyes locked onto you. Your beautiful eyes had darkened with an intense, raw heat, your gaze completely fixed on his bare chest while your sinful lips remained slightly parted. As he watched, your tongue subtly darted out to lick your lower lip, your breathing turning shallow.

The God of Thunder felt his entire frame go completely rigid in the middle of the room.

You were not thinking what he thought you were... were you? For the first time, a heavy, pounding tension that had nothing to do with anger or bickering flooded the air around you. Thor felt his heart skip a beat against his ribs at the terrifying, intoxicating thought of you actually looking at him like that, willing him to step closer.

You closed your eyes then, and the sudden, intrusive thought of him being completely naked with other women infiltrated your mind. It filled you with a strange, unexplainable feeling—a sharp, poisonous ache that you had felt before in your life but couldn't quite put your finger on. Your stomach actively churned at the mental image, a dark wave of possessiveness and frustration twisting tight inside your core mkaing you open your eyes back.

The lung-burning silence broke when you abruptly gulped, tearing your gaze away from his abdomen as your cheeks flared a bright, defensive red.

“Put a shirt on, will you?” you muttered breathlessly.

Without waiting for a response, you spun on your heel and practically bolted out onto the sun-drenched balcony, desperately needing the breeze to help you catch your breath before you completely lost your mind.

Inside, Thor’s eyebrows furrowed deeply. He stood entirely frozen in the center of the room, his heart dropping straight to his stomach at the words you had just thrown at him.

Of course.

Why the hell would he ever think you wanted him? What was he thinking? You obviously were not attracted to him in the slightest. In fact, it was the exact opposite—you clearly disliked him so much that you couldn't even bear to see a glimpse of his bare upper body, which was why you had breathlessly demanded he cover himself up.

Thor let out a low, frustrated groan, bringing his massive hands up to aggressively palm his face. Why did he even care so much? Why did your rejection sting like needles on his skin?

Steeling his posture, he marched back over to his suitcase, snatched up a matching navy t-shirt, and harshly yanked it down over his head, hiding his chest from view. He desperately needed a fucking drink. He was entirely certain there wasn’t a single alcoholic beverage on this entire planet that could properly numb his brain right now. Not even heavy Asgardian ale could get him drunk enough at this point. He actually was fucking sure there wasn't a single drink in the entire universe that could make him drunk enough to forget about you, your angelic face, these unexplainable feelings, and the damning fact that you absolutely hated him.

“Let’s go,” his deep voice boomed behind you.

Startled out of your thoughts on the balcony, you turned around and walked back inside the air-conditioned room. You quietly followed him as he strode over to the heavy front door, swinging it open and standing firmly in the entryway as he waited for you to walk past.

You went out, your wedge sandals clicking softly on the stone path as you took a deep breath of the humid air, trying to reset your frayed nerves. As you made your way down toward the main infinity pool with Thor by your side, you suddenly felt a firm, sudden tug on your hand.

Because you had left the villa first, you had been walking a few paces ahead of him, but with one effortless pull, he brought you right back next to his side. His massive palm slid against yours, his fingers wrapping around your hand and engulfing it completely.

Your pulse gave a wild, treacherous flutter. Your eyes filled with immediate, defensive questions as you snapped your head up to look at him. Your hand felt like it was on fire, your skin practically melting under the direct heat of his touch. But before you could snap at him, Thor simply gestured with a subtle tilt of his chin toward a few couples who were walking past, watching you closely.

Right. Real couples walked hand-in-hand. You were supposed to be blissfully married, so this was completely ordinary. You forced yourself to nod, your fingers slowly sliding into his, intertwining with his firmly to sell the act.

Before heading over to the pool deck, you stopped by the wooden towel stand. You grabbed two plush beach towels, offering a polite, dazzling smile and a quiet thank you to the young worker who handed them over. As you began walking toward two vacant, prime sunbeds you had spotted near the edge of the water, Thor leaned down significantly to get right on your level.

His warm breath brushed against your ear as he whispered, “Lots of servants here.”

You immediately looked up at him, your eyes boring holes into his face. “Thor, they are resort employees. Stop it,” you hissed under your breath.

A smug, infuriating smile broke across his face. He was clearly enjoying the easy way he could piss you off. Still, his hand didn't release yours; his fingers remained tightly engulfed around your hand as you finally settled right next to the vacant sunbeds.

He finally let go of your hand, though his blue eyes remained highly alert, scanning the perimeter. He took in the entire scene—the crowded pool bar, the glittering water, and the exclusive guests. Upbeat lounge music pulsed quietly from the hidden outdoor speakers as his gaze tracked the crowd.

His eyes locked onto a specific target sitting near the bar: a man with a distinct scar slicing through his left eyebrow, short black hair, and deeply bronzed skin. The stool next to the man was vacant, and he was casually sipping on a dark amber liquor—what Thor recognized as whiskey, a Midgardian drink he had tried during his time with the Avengers.

Thor turned his head back to tell you he had spotted their mark, but the words got caught in his throat.

You had already slid your dress off, leaving it pooled on the side of the chair. You were now sitting down comfortably on the sunbed, your bare legs stretched out in front of you.

The sight of your exposed skin and the incredibly skimpy, high-cut beachwear made a sudden rush of blood boil furiously through Thor's veins. His gaze darkened instantly, his eyes helplessly mapping the smooth expanse of your collarbones, your chest, and your fucking perfect legs. Oh, fuck. He literally couldn't breathe. The air vanished from his lungs, and he averted his eyes toward the sea, his heart hammering so wildly against his ribs he thought it might actually beat its way straight out of his chest.

Desperate to cool down, he aggressively cleared his throat and grabbed the hem of his t-shirt, yanking it off his body.

Your eyes remained glued strictly ahead of you, stubbornly refusing to spare him a single glance. You heard the rustle of fabric and the distinct sound of him tossing the shirt onto the table, but you refused to face him. You unfortunately felt far too many weird, dangerous things flipping in your stomach whenever you looked at his bare chest, and you weren't about to risk your sanity now. Fuck this entire operation, really, you thought bitterly.

You heard the sunbed creak as his massive weight sat down on the lounge chair right next to yours. Your positions were exactly identical, your legs laid out parallel to each other on the matching cushions. You were close—entirely too close.

Needing to ground yourself and focus on the mission, you leaned over toward him, lowering your voice to a sharp, determined whisper. “We either finish this in two days or an entire week. Let’s get this over with quickly, so that I do not have to be your wife for another—” But you had made the catastrophic mistake of turning your head to look at him while you whispered. The words died completely in your throat, and the remaining oxygen was brutally taken right out of your lungs.

Thor had laid back against the cushion, his massive, bare arms raised up next to his head to support the back of his neck. The position made his biceps and shoulders bulge spectacularly under the sunlight, the lines of his chest stretching taut.

“...second,” you trailed off breathlessly, your voice dropping to a faint whisper as you quickly snapped your head back to stare blindly at the water in front of you.

“I agree,” Thor said simply, his deep voice carrying a gravelly, tight edge as he stared straight ahead, too. “This whole ordeal is ridiculous, I’ll tell you that. There is absolutely no need to drag it out.”

You laid perfectly still on the sunbed, the intense heat baking your skin, but it was nothing compared to the suffocating tension radiating from the man lying right next to you.

What’s happening to me? you wondered frantically in your mind, trying to ground yourself as you looked around the bustling pool area. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the man with the scarred eyebrow, and a cold jolt of recognition hit you. He looked familiar because he was your target. Valentin Moretti, the spoiled, arrogant playboy of the family who handled the high-society entertainment and smuggling logistics at the resort. He was the only middleman who held the digital decryption keys to the Dark Elf tech you and Thor were trying to locate.

And right now, he was staring right at you.

The second his eyes hit you, his posture shifted. His dark eyes narrowed, deliberately burning their way down the length of your body, lingering heavily on the high-cut lines of your white monokini and your bare legs. A smooth, predatory smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. He raised his whiskey glass in a silent, incredibly bold toast directly toward you.

“I was just about to tell you I spotted our target, but it seems like he spotted you,” Thor grumbled. He glared over at Valentin, his blue eyes darkening to a stormy hue as his hands clenched into massive, white-knuckled fists behind his head. “Why the fuck is he staring at you like that?” he muttered, every single muscle in his broad frame clenching tight as he fought a losing battle to keep himself from doing something stupid. Like striking the fucker with a stray bolt of lightning.

“Thor, keep your eyes straight ahead,” you hissed back under your breath, stubbornly refusing to look at him. “Tony said he runs the security and digital access keys for the entire compound. If he’s interested, it means we have an opening.”

“An opening to what?” Thor muttered, his tone sharply biting. “He is vile. Look at how he comports himself.”

“An opening for me to get to know hi—”

“Absolutely not,” he interrupted, his voice cutting through the humid air like a sharpened blade.

Your eyebrows furrowed deeply. “What do you mean? We need him, Thor!” you whisper-shouted, sharply turning your body toward him.

He was staring literal daggers across the pool deck, his biceps bulging prominently as he breathed. He looked absolutely furious. You scoffed internally. Did the mere thought of another man being interested in you anger him this much? Did he despise you so profoundly that he couldn't even entertain the thought that a man could actually find you attractive? You breathed sharply through your nose like an enraged bull; you absolutely could not let his fragile ego fuck up this entire operation.

“I am going to the ladies room,” you announced abruptly.

You sat up, your hips shifting with a natural, subtle sway as you swung your legs off the lounge chair. The movement drew Thor’s intense gaze straight to your back, his eyes tracking you with the exact same heavy focus as a certain someone across the pool deck. Thor’s jaw clenched so hard a muscle ticked in his cheek. He knew exactly what you were doing; he was not fucking stupid. You were trying to get away from him to corner the target alone. And he was absolutely not going to let you.

You marched into the restroom, deliberately waiting inside for two full minutes to give Valentin time to notice your absence. When you finally emerged back into the bright sunshine, your eyes instantly scanned the area for Thor, but you couldn't find his giant frame anywhere near the sunbeds. Your brows knitted in concern. Where the fuck is he? You shook your head, dismissing the thought.

Continuing your way, your strides remained purposeful, your hips swaying with an intoxicating rhythm as you confidently made your way over to the open-air pool bar. You stopped right next to two stols away from Valentin, placing your hands flat on the polished marble counter.

“A cosmopolitan, please,” you told the bartender, flashing a polite smile.

Beside you, Valentin smirked and got up, sliding onto the stool right next to you. “Good afternoon,” he smoothed, his voice dripping with an arrogant, upper-class accent as he looked down at your frame. His smirk widened. “I don’t mean to intrude, but I haven't seen your face at the Sanctuary before. I am Valentin.”

You immediately forced your perfected, dazzling smile onto your face, tilting your head up to look at him. “Hello,” you said, your voice smooth, breathy, and entirely welcoming as you deliberately played the part.

Valentin’s dark eyes flashed with deep approval at your response. But just as he opened his mouth to speak, a heavy, solid weight crashed into your side.

A massive, bare arm wrapped securely around your waist, his fingers gripping your skin so tightly that your breath instantly hitched in your throat.

“Here you are, darling,” Thor muttered, leaning down so close his lips practically brushed your ear, though his icy gaze remained dead-locked onto Valentin.

“Here I am,” you said through your teeth. You forced out a light, airy giggle for appearance's sake, but underneath the counter, you aggressively pinched the skin of his arm. Just what did he think he was doing?

In response, his grip only tightened, anchoring you flush against his solid hip.

Valentin looked between the two of you, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise, though his arrogant smirk remained firmly in place. “Your companion didn't seem to care you were there just minutes ago,” Valentin noted smoothly, turning his attention entirely back to you and deliberately stepping a fraction closer to your space. “If you ever find yourself bored with the company, cara, I am always hosting private tastings in the VIP lounge upstairs. A woman of your taste shouldn't be left to just bake in the sun.”

Valentin finally flicked a dismissive, incredibly brief glance toward Thor, taking in his towering height, his bare chest, and his silent, murderous expression. Valentin chuckled softly under his breath, entirely assuming Thor was just some brainless, handsome trophy husband you kept around for arm candy.

You felt your eyes briefly close in pure panic as Thor tried to keep his mouth shut. The tension radiating off him was terrifying; he pulled you even harder against his side, his thumb digging into your waist. Didn't this mortal idiot know who he was dealing with? The God of Thunder looked like he was about to rip Valentin’s head off his shoulders and toss it directly into the infinity pool.

“My husband,” you intervened quickly, emphasizing the word heavily while throwing Thor a sharp, lethal warning glare, “is just enjoying the peace. But thank you for the invitation, Valentin. We might just take you up on that.”

“I look forward to it,” Valentin murmured, his eyes giving your body one last, shameless scan down to your bare legs. He gave a polite nod and turned back toward the bar, entirely unaware of how close he had just come to an early grave.

Thor practically dragged you out of there, his heavy grip guiding you back toward the sunbeds.

The second Valentin was out of earshot, you let out a sharp breath, turning your head to hiss at him. “What do you think you're doing?!”

Thor didn't even spare you a glance, his jaw set in a rigid line as he kept on walking, dragging you right along by his side. “I am not doing anything.” You huffed, sharply slapping his bare arm. “Thor, you're going to ruin everything!” He acted completely deaf, ignoring your slap as he kept his heavy strides forward.

“Tomorrow,” you whispered fiercely, leaning in closer to his side so none of the passing guests could overhear. “I am going to have to flirt with him to get those access codes, and you will not do things like what you just did!”

Thor’s head snapped toward you so fast your breath caught harshly in your chest. His blue eyes were burning, fucking scorching into yours with an unhinged look.

“You will not,” he growled.

You scoffed loudly, throwing your head back. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he said flatly. He finally let go of your waist, sitting back down heavily on his sunbed.

You remained standing over him, your hands flying up in pure frustration. “Is the concept of a man finding me attractive such a foreign concept to you?!” you whisper-shouted, your chest heaving.

He didn't respond as he kept looking at Valentin, his jaw locking into a tight, defensive line. Ofcourse he did not, and that was the exact problem. Any man who set their eyes on you would find you attractive and he could not fucking stand it.

It's because you cannot stand her, his mind echoed, but he knew something was desperately wron g with him.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Valentin was still watching the two of you from the bar, clearly reveling in the fact that he had caused a little disagreement between the stunning woman and her brute of a husband. Thor’s eyes darkened even further as he tracked Valentin's amused expression.

Your gaze followed Thor's, landing right on the smug target.

“Are you serious?” you muttered to Thor. Then, turning your head toward the bar, you deliberately forced a sweet smile and gave Valentin a little, subtle wave.

You turned back to Thor, sitting down forcefully on your own sunbed. “I will do what I have to do, Thor,” you said coldly, snatching up a glossy fashion magazine from the side table—one of the resort’s complimentary services.

“We’ll see about that,” Thor muttered back, his voice dangerous.

You didn't respond, your own jaw locking in a fury so intense you wanted to wrap your hands around his thick neck and strangle him.

So yeah, your day was going exactly the same. You had wanted to strangle him in the morning, and you wanted to strangle him right now. Not a single thing had changed, other than the fact that he was now your supposed husband.

You aggressively kept on turning the glossy pages of the magazine, but your gaze followed Valentin precisely. Between the articles, your sharp eyes roamed over every single person on the pool deck, dissecting them and their behaviors, mapping out the security hierarchy of the resort. But you got bored after a while, the heat and the tension becoming too much to sit through. Deciding you needed a distraction, you stood up from your sunbed to go into the pool.

The moment you stood, Thor’s intense gaze focused directly in on your stomach. The air left his lungs. There, cutting across your midriff, were the exact same faint, jagged scars. His blood ran entirely cold. Just how many of those did you have hidden across your body? He felt his stomach churn painfully, his hands going completely cold despite the blistering sun. But just as he watched you walk down the shallow steps into the water, he fucking saw Valentin look at you again.

Just why did this guy not give up?

Thor felt something violent biting at him inside—something so utterly convincing and overwhelming that his face hardened into stone. He got up immediately, his towering frame casting a shadow over the lounge chairs as he followed you straight into the water.

You were already in the pool, the cold water instantly relieving your burning skin. You swam smoothly toward the far edge, propping your elbows up on the smooth marble so you could lay your head on your hands and finally relax.

Just as you were settling in, a calm expression finally washing over your face, the entire pool rattled with the force of someone jumping in.

You whipped your head around, your eyes wide with irritation. Thor emerged from underwater a split second later, a smug, breathless smile on his face as he broke the surface just inches away from you.

“Can I not relax in peace now?” you snapped between your teeth.

But the remaining words were brutally taken right out of your lungs. Before you could slide away, Thor wrapped his massive hands securely around the back of your bare thighs, effortlessly lifting your body up in the water. The sudden momentum left you with no choice but to instinctively circle your legs around his broad waist to keep from slipping.

“What are you doing?” you whispered into his ear, completely breathless. Despite the panic racing through your veins, you forced a bright, blinding honeymoon smile for the sake of the couples swimming near you, whose bewildered, intrigued expressions were already focused entirely on the two of you.

“I am enjoying the cold water with my wife,” he murmured back. His warm breath fanned heavily over the sensitive skin of your neck as he intentionally cornered you, crowding your front while your back was pressed against the marble edge of the pool you had been relaxing on seconds ago.

Your hands instinctively found his neck, your fingers gripping his shoulders while your thumbs lightly played with the short hairs at the nape of his neck. You looked at him, your lips dangling a mere inch away from his. You could feel his steady breath fanning over your mouth, making your lips tingle with soul-burning want.

Why the hell were your lips tingling with want? Oh, god. Your face burned with a furious, internal heat as your eyes helplessly locked onto his mouth. Both of your chests heaved, brushing against one another in the water.

“I am not your real wife, Thor,” you breathed out, trying desperately to ground yourself. “I don’t need you touching me every five seconds—”

“I don’t need anyone here thinking you are available.”

“What?” you whispered, your heart giving a massive flutter against your ribs.

“Fake or not, Little Flame,” he growled softly, his blue eyes turning incredibly dark as his grip on your thighs tightened. “I am your fucking husband, and every man on this island will know it. I will make sure of it.”

He smirked, and before you could even process his words, he leaned in and pressed a firm, lingering kiss directly to your flushed cheek. You gasped in absolute shock, your skin scorching where his lips met your face. As he pulled back just a fraction, your noses brushed. You looked directly into his eyes, feeling yourself grow hotter and hotter and hotter—

“My honorary guests! You made it!”

A booming, boisterous voice suddenly erupted from above you. You both snapped your heads up, startled out of the suffocating bubble, and saw Alejandro Moretti himself standing on the pool deck. He was smiling down at the two of you, his arms spread wide in a grand, welcoming gesture.

You aggressively cleared your throat, your training forcing you to seamlessly recover. “Hello, Mr. Moretti. It's a pleasure to meet you,” you said, forcing a dazzling smile as you introduced yourself and extended a wet hand up toward the him.

He immediately took it, bowing his head slightly. “It is my absolute pleasure,” he said warmly. “You are the wife of the mighty Thor, after all!” He chuckled loudly, before turning his glowing gaze entirely back to Thor. “Big fan, man. Big fan.”

Moretti extended his hand toward him, and Thor took it, a wide, proud smile immediately breaking across his face because he was being praised. God, he absolutely loved being praised, didn't he?

Moretti started talking rapidly, listing off Thor’s various accomplishments while keeping a firm, enthusiastic grip on his hand. Rolling your eyes privately, you used the distraction to unwrap your legs from Thor's waist, pulling yourself off his torso and slipping back into the water.

The moment you detached yourself, Thor's hand snapped out, tightening firmly around your wrist. He immediately tore his attention away from Moretti, looking down at you. “Where are you going, sweetheart?”

The casual nickname made your entire stomach flutter dangerously.

“Gonna go dry off, honey,” you said, matching his energy as you pulled yourself up slightly to plant a swift, fake peck on his cheek. “Just a bit cold.”

“I will come with you,” Thor insisted immediately, his cheek burninh as his eyes tracking your movement.

“Ah, newlyweds,” Moretti chuckled fondly at the display, shaking his head. “Always so full of love, am I right?”

You gave him a dry, polite chuckle and quickly swam toward the pool steps to get out. As you and Thor stepped onto the stone deck, grabbing your towels, Moretti walked right alongside you, refusing to leave Thor’s side for even a single second. It was like he wanted Thor all to himself.

How can someone not want him, though? the thought involuntarily slipped into your mind.

You froze dead in your tracks, your towel clutched tightly in your hands as your own mind echoed back to you.

No. You did not want him. Certainly not. You didn't, you couldn't—

You closed your eyes, letting out a long, defeated sigh.

You fucking wanted him. And he could never know.

—

You were getting ready, painting a sharp, precise wing of black eyeliner over your eyelid as you desperately tried to keep yourself intact.

Moretti had invited the both of you to the exclusive resort party taking place tonight. Well, you were going to go either way for the sake of the mission, but he had explicitly invited you as his honorary guests.

After the you realizedthat you actually wanted Thor, you had started to see him in an entirely different light. You had felt physically nauseous by the fact that you wanted him, wanting nothing more than to run back to the villa to self-reflect and figure out exactly where your life had gone wrong. But he had not left you alone for a single second. The moment you had said you were going to the room, he had immediately gotten up and followed you back to the room. He had looked so genuinely caring while doing it, which only made an unwelcome swarm of butterflies erupt in your stomach. And the fact that he looked so so good—

Ugh, you were doing it again.

“Are you ready, Little Flame?” came Thor’s deep voice from behind the bathroom door.

You took one good look at yourself in the mirror, your gaze traveling down from your flawless makeup to the white midi dress that hugged your curves perfectly, down to your elegant heeled sandals. You looked hot. Absolutely lethal.

You swung the bathroom door open, only to be hit dead-on with the sight of him waiting in the foyer.

His lips parted, falling slightly agape as his eyes traveled over you, taking you in. His towering, formidable frame was clad in tailored cream linen trousers and a crisp white linen shirt, finished with beige loafers.

Your heart stopped dead in your chest. Was he actively trying to kill you? He was already breathtakingly handsome on a regular day, but the fact that he was dressing like that was doing completely unspeakable things to your sanity.

Thor felt the air brutally ripped from his lungs the exact second you emerged. His blue eyes aggressively roamed over your face, your sharp eyeliner, and the way the white dress accentuated your flawless form. Now, why the hell did you have to look like this and still have the absolute audacity to hate him?

His breathing became distinctly ragged, his eyes darkening to a stormy, dangerous hue as the possessive thought of other men witnessing your beauty tonight overtook his mind. But he forced his muscles to relax as he reminded himself that this hotel was strictly full of wealthy couples. It was fine. You were anchored to him. Right?

“Let’s go, big guy,” you said, averting your gaze in absolute panic as you brushed past his broad shoulder and made your way out of the villa.

Thor’s eyebrows shot up in utter bewilderment. He stood frozen for a second before turning to follow you out onto the stone path closing the door behind him, his voice clearly dripping with a deep, rumbling amusement. “Big guy?”

Your face burned a scorching, furious hot at your own slip of the tongue. You usually never called him anything other than petty names specifically engineered to irritate him, so what the fuck was that now?

“You... are massive. And a man?” you stammered out, desperately trying to make light of the situation as you walked ahead of him, your heels clicking sharply.

“Hm,” Thor just grunted behind you. You couldn't see his face, but you could hear the triumphant smile in his voice as the two of you made your way down toward dinner.

The revelation that you were actually attracted to him was making you go completely crazy, and you were already fucking it all up. Your brain was entirely short-circuiting over how mind-numbingly handsome he looked in that white linen shirt, and calling him big guy of all things was proof that you were losing your edge. All through dinner, you were on high alert, desperately trying to hide your lingering glimpses toward his muscular arms and his stupidly handsome face, praying he wouldn't notice the sudden shift in your behavior.

Dinner itself had been an exercise in damage control. Thor had absolutely loved the food, boisterously shouting “Another!” to the waitstaff every time he finished a plate, leaving you to look at the waiters with highly apologetic eyes. You had quickly smoothed it over, telling them with a charming laugh how incredibly enthusiastic your husband was about their exquisite cuisine. Far from being offended, the staff had been completely fascinated by Thor, even asking for his signature—though the poor guys couldn't take any pictures due to the resort's strict high-society privacy policy.

Once dinner was finally over, you made your way to the actual party.

The bass from the music blasted your ears off the second you walked through the entrance. Thor’s heavy hand was firmly circled around your bare waist, anchoring you to his side as you looked around the crowded open-air venue. You bit your lip, doing everything in your power to mask your fastened heartbeat and the slight panic tracing your expression. To maintain the doting newlyweds facade, your own arm was stretched across Thor’s broad back.

And god, how magnificent that back was. Through the thin linen of his shirt, you could feel the solid, dangerous planes of his muscles right beneath your palm. It made you wonder, in a rogue, intrusive thought, if you could paint that flawless skin red with your nails, leaving little scratches down his—

oh my god, shut up, girl, you fiercely scolded yourself in your mind, your face flashing a blistering hot.

As you walked deeper into the VIP section toward Alejandro Moretti’s table, you spotted Valentin right next to him.

The exact millisecond Valentin came into view, you could feel every single muscle in Thor’s body tense up beneath your hand. Pure instinct took over, you gave the small of his back a soft, deliberate little squeeze, a silent warning to stay grounded.

The touch made Thor instantly look down at you, his blue eyes full of an intense, sweeping emotion you couldn't quite name. Your mind raced. Why the fuck were you trying to calm him down? And why the hell was he getting so intensely tense in the first place?

“Don’t make a scene,” you whispered fiercely up to him, looking at him through your lashes as you kept your voice strictly beneath the thumping bass.

“Do not make me make a scene,” he grumbled back, his deep voice heavily unpleased as his grip on your waist tightened.

Alejandro Moretti immediately got up from his leather booth the moment he saw you approach. “Ah! Here they are!” he announced loudly, his arms thrown wide open in a grand greeting.

Thor smiled brightly, his deep, booming laugh filling your ears as he stepped forward to enthusiastically embrace the billionaire, playing the part of the larger-than-life husband a little too well. You let out a bright, airy laugh right on cue, looking up at them as you seamlessly executed the role of the loving, supportive wife.

From across the table, Valentin was staring directly at you, a confident, knowing smirk pulling at his lips.

Alejandro turned proudly to his younger brother, gesturing toward the two of you. “My guests of honor, Valentin! This is Thor, and his lovely wife.”

Valentin’s dark eyebrows furrowed in immediate confusion. “Thor?”

“Yes! The God of Thunder!” Alejandro chuckled heartily, totally oblivious to the shift in the air as he gestured for everyone to sit down.

The arrogant smirk was instantly wiped entirely off Valentin’s face. He stood frozen, likely wondering how the hell he hadn't recognized the literal Avenger at the pool bar earlier.

“Ah,” Valentin cleared his throat, cautiously extending his hand across the table, even as Thor threw absolute, unyielding daggers at him with his icy gaze. “My pleasure.”

Thor’s lips pulled into a wide, bright smile as he reached out and took Valentin’s hand. But you knew that exact smile entirely too well—it was the predatory, sharp-edged smile he regularly threw at you whenever you managed to annoy him to death in public. It was the smile of a Thor who was profoundly angry, masking his rage with a lethally graceful diplomacy.

His godlike grip must have tightened a fraction too much around Valentin’s fingers, because the smug playboy’s face instantly grimaced in pain, his knuckles turning white under the force of the god’s hand.

You tapped lightly on Thor’s elbow, giving him a subtle, pointed signal to let go before he completely pulverized the man's hand. He finally released his grip, though his blue eyes continued to burn right through Valentin, his other arm instantly wrapping tight around your waist again to pull you back into his orbit.

You went to sit down in the plush leather booth, but Thor deliberately shuffled his massive frame, placing himself directly between you and Valentin to completely block the playboy's line of sight. You rolled your eyes privately. He was obviously being this intensely possessive because the entire resort had to believe you were blissfully married, but he was playing the part a little too well for your sanity.

Alejandro, ever the fanboy, was visibly disappointed by the seating arrangement—he was now sitting on your other side instead of right next to the God of Thunder—but he stopped himself from saying anything to avoid offending his royal guest.

So began the endless praises for Thor.

“I must say, King Thor, having you here at the Sanctuary is a historic honor!” Alejandro beamed, gesturing for a waiter to pour more whiskey. “The stories of your victories on Earth, the Battle of New York, the triumph over Malekith... truly spectacular! A god walking among mortals!”

Thor smiled brightly, his booming laugh easily cutting through the lounge music as his arm remained locked securely around your waist, his thumb lazily stroking your side through the fabric of your dress. “Ah, you are too kind, Alejandro! But a King must protect the realms. The battle against the Dark Elves was indeed a fierce one, requiring absolute precision and power.”

As he spoke the word precision, Thor casually leaned back, his icy gaze flicking past you to check if Valentin was looking at you. Finding Valentin’s eyes darting toward your bare shoulders, Thor’s grip on your waist tightened possessively, his jaw clenching as he seamlessly continued his story. “We had to secure ancient, dangerous technologies to ensure they never fell into the wrong hands. It takes a truly formidable force to handle such secrets.”

“Incredible,” Alejandro said, hanging on his every word. “And to manage such cosmic feats while keeping a beautiful wife by your side!”

“She is my greatest anchor,” Thor murmured, his deep voice dropping into a low tone as he turned his head to look down at you. His eyes searched your face with a burning, unreadable intensity that made your heart skip a violent beat. “No matter how chaotic the universe becomes, she is the only one who can truly command my attention.”

You gulped, your eyes helplessly searching his face, desperately trying to read the heavy gravity in his expression. But before you could decipher it, a question cut through the air—one you should have anticipated much sooner.

“So, how did you two meet?” Valentin asked, his voice smooth as he leaned forward. His dark eyes actively tried to find your frame past Thor's broad shoulders, but Thor was absolutely wiping you from his sight, shifting his weight to keep you entirely hidden.

Your blood ran cold. A sudden wave of panic rushed through you, and as you snapped your eyes to Thor, you saw the exact same flash of panic mirrored in his blue eyes. You had never rehearsed a backstory.

“I saw him—” you began hastily, just as Thor started, “We saw each other—”

Your voices mixed awkwardly over the thumping bass of the music. Alejandro looked between the two of you expectantly, his eyebrows raised.

You quickly forced a light, melodic laugh, covering the slip-up as you spoke over each other. Tilting your head up, you offered Thor a brilliant, adoring smile. “My husband should tell you about this one. He’s a real good storyteller, aren't you, darling?” You squeezed his shoulder, your fingers digging into his shirt.

Thor’s hold tightened around your waist, his thumb pressing firmly into your side. “I must let you take over this one, my dear. Your perspective is far more enchanting.”

“I insist,” you said, your voice dripping sweet as honey, though you locked eyes with him in a silent, lethal challenge. You knew pushing the spotlight onto him annoyed him to his absolute core.

“Very well,” he grumbled under his breath, leaning back into the booth. He cleared his throat, his posture shifting into something commanding. Valentin had slid over a bit to the side of the table, desperate to finally see you both, his sharp eyes intensely dissecting the two of you for any cracks in the facade.

“We met years ago, when she was first recruited to the team,” Thor began, his deep baritone rumbling through his chest. He paused, his blue eyes dropping down to look at you, the heavy lounge music suddenly fading into absolute background noise. “I saw her walk into the room. A beautiful woman. Truly, the most breathtaking creature I had ever laid my eyes upon.”

You looked up at him, fully expecting to see a detached, calculated look in his eyes—the face of a soldier executing a calculated lie. But your heart slammed against your ribs. You were shaken to your core at the raw, truthful look in his gaze. Your breath hitched, turning ragged in your chest.

He chuckled softly, the sound low and intimate, as if he had completely forgotten Alejandro and Valentin were even sitting across from them. “But she looked like she had dark, stormy clouds swarming all over her. She was so heavily guarded. So, my brain short-circuited, and I called her gloomy.”

Alejandro’s eyes widened, a grin breaking across his face. “No way!”

Your jaw clenched as the vivid memory made your blood boil all over again. Why the fuck was he telling them what actually happened?

“I know, I shouldn't have,” Thor murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. His gaze was burning into you, scorching you with a look that made your skin prickle. “But seeing her face... my mind simply stopped working. That was the only thing I could utter. And do you know what she did?” He looked over at Alejandro, a genuine, fond smile pulling at his lips. “She didn't cower. She didn't stay silent. She yelled at me. She marched right up to my face and screamed about what a massive, insufferable asshole I was.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in deep, defensive confusion. Wht was he chuckling about that? He had hated you for it.

“She was the first woman to ever yell at me like that, without a single shred of fear, without holding back an ounce of her fire,” Thor said, his voice a raspy register, thick with a devotion that felt terrifyingly real. He reached down, his large hand gently cupping the side of your face, his thumb softly tracing your cheekbone. The tender touch sent a violent jolt of electricity straight down your spine. “That’s when I realized... right there, in the middle of her fury. That’s when I realized she was the love of my life.”

You gulped, your hands clenching into tight fists against your lap. The air was brutally ripped from your lungs. You literally couldn't breathe under the sheer weight of his stare. He was looking down at you as if you were the most precious, sacred thing he had ever been allowed to hold.

“Then, I chased her for years,” Thor continued smoothly, finally tearing his gaze away from your frozen face to smile at Alejandro. “Trying to get her to agree to a single date. I brought flowers to her quarters every single day, trying to melt the ice. She finally caved in after a while... and here we are.”

Thor cleared his throat letting go of your face and adjusting his shirt as Alejandro let out a captivated sigh.

Your gaze remained completely stuck on the line of Thor's neck, your mind spinning in absolute confusion. He had sounded so entirely sincere when he described your beauty. The way he explained falling in love with your fire, it sounded like poetry.

He isn't in love with you, a harsh, grounding voice violently intervened in your mind. He is lying through his teeth to save the mission. He made it all up. You desperately tried to pull yourself together, reciting the mantra over and over: He hates you. He has hated you for years.

But as you sat there, enveloped in the heat of his massive body, a sharp ache bloomed deep in your chest at the reminder of his hatred.

Why did your chest ache at his hatred towards you? And why did it hurt so bad?

“That is just beautiful,” Alejandro breathed, raising his glass in a toast. “A match made in the heavens, truly.”

You swallowed the thick lump in your throat, forcefully shaking the daze out of your head. Forcing your muscles to relax, you put on a flawless, dazzling smile for show, leaning deeper into your fake husband's side while your heart shattered quietly into a million pieces.

The subject changed then, Alejandro and Thor talking about other things while Thor gave you occasional little pecks on your cheek, his lips lingering just enough to keep your heart beating frantically in your mouth.

“Why haven't you two kissed?” Valentin asked suddenly, his voice sharply cutting through the conversation of the two men. His dark eyes roamed all over your face, calculating and deeply skeptical.

What?

Thor turned toward him immediately, his posture shifting into something lethal. “What do you mean, mortal? I’ve been doing nothing but kiss her since we sat down.” His blue eyes narrowed into dangerous slits at Valentin.

“You keep kissing her on her cheeks. Why not on the lips?” Valentin pushed, his gaze sharp and dissecting.

Thor’s gaze darkened to absolute midnight. “It is not your place to ask such questions.”

The playboy had been watching you far too closely; you should’ve seen this one coming. Valentin leaned back, a smug, accusatory grin slowly returning to his face. “You’re acting like you’re pretending—”

Your heart stopped dead in your chest.

“Do not speak one more word, mortal,” Thor spoke, his deep voice dropping an octave as he raised a single, threatening finger.

Alejandro’s expression changed instantly. He looked at his brother with sudden seriousness, his tone sharp. “Leave our guests alone, Val.” But then, Alejandro’s eyes dropped down to the floor for a split second, as if he were mentally calculating something. He turned back toward you, his brow furrowing. “But... he is right. Why haven't you kissed her?”

Your heart started beating faster and faster, a wave of ice-cold panic rushing to your fingertips. Your cover was about to be completely blown right here in the VIP section. Thor’s gaze darkened even further, clearly unpleased and deeply tense at being questioned. This was not good. You had to do something, and you had to do it right now.

“She is my wife—” Thor started angrily, but you smoothly interfered.

With an effortless, confident laugh, you dismissed the two brothers with a casual wave of your hand, acting as if they were nothing more than little, annoying flies. Your left hand found Thor’s massive bicep as you elegantly crossed your legs, slanting them directly over his thick thighs.

Responding to the sudden contact, Thor's arm instinctively wrapped around your back, his eyes snapping down to look at you immediately. What were you doing?

“My husband and I are very passionate,” you said, your voice dripping with a sultry, unbothered confidence as your hand trailed seductively over the broad expanse of his chest. “We try to keep the PDA to a minimum so we don't make people uncomfortable. Should we show them, honey?”

You looked completely unshakable, but inside, your heart was threatening to leap straight out of your chest. The skin of your legs burned where your thighs were glued to his.

Thor’s chest heaved tightly beneath your fingers as you looked up at him through your lashes. His heart missed a beat at the breathtaking sight of you in his lap. Fuck. You both knew exactly what had to be done right now, or the entire mission was over.

Thor’s large hand found the back of your neck, his fingers tightening securely. “Music to my fucking ears, darling,” he growled.

And then, he claimed your lips in an instant. The force of the impact took the remaining breath right out of your lungs. Your left hand instinctively grabbed the back of his neck, your fingers anchoring into his skin, while your other hand remained flat against his heaving chest. Your mouths moved in tandem, a low, helpless sigh of contentment pouring from your throat straight into the kiss. Your head tilted to the side, completely surrendering to the heat.

His right hand on your back slid downward to your waist, grabbing you with an iron, desperate tightness, as if he never intended to let you go for the rest of his immortal life. His other hand moved from the back of your neck up to your head, his thick fingers tangling aggressively through your hair, tilting your face up by giving a firm, sudden tug on your hair. You gasped into his mouth, your teeth sharply biting his lower lip in response. Thor let out a low grunt, his kisses instantly becoming more fervent, deeper, and completely unhinged. You were drowning in him.

Next to you, Alejandro and Valentin looked at each other, their faces flushing as they clearly regretted ever opening their mouths. They were visibly uncomfortable—good. They deserved to be, so they would never question a single thing about the two of you again.

He was entirely consuming you, and gods, was he liking it. He felt the soft circle of your thumb over the nape of his neck, sending a violent wave of chills straight down his spine. You tasted sweet—sweeter than any other lips he had ever tasted in his thousand years of life. Thor licked at the seam of your lips once, a non-verbal command motioning for you to open up for him. You tried to fight it for a split second, a last shred of self-preservation, but he forcefully made you part them by giving your lower lip another sharp bite and executing a firm tug on your hair.

You gasped, your chest heaving against his as he glided his tongue over yours. He was so good at this. So fucking good that you completely forgot where you were, forgot the mission, forgot anyone else existed besides him. He tugged tightly on your waist, trying to pull your body even closer into his mass, but you were already entirely glued to him, his radiating heat burning straight through your side.

Alejandro loudly cleared his throat, but you both kept on going like there was no tomorrow, still kissing him with a desperate, hidden hunger, as if you knew you would never get the chance to hold him like this ever again.

“Okay. We get it,” Valentin muttered, his voice clearly irritated and completely full of deep regret.

Thor let out a heavy grunt, finally parting his lips from yours. A thin, glistening string of saliva formed between your lips before breaking in the dim light. You looked up at him, your eyes completely dazed over, your hair beautifully messed up from his heavy hand, and your lips visibly swollen and red. He stared down at you, his own lips flushed and his pupils blown incredibly wide as his chest rose and fell in ragged breaths.

Taking a shallow breath, you slowly turned your head toward the other two men, a wicked, victorious smile pulling at your lips. “See?” you said.

You tried not to give away how much his kiss had affected you, but you knew you were a fucking mess. Your heart was threatening to leap out of your chest, your lungs heaving fast as you gulped, desperately trying to calm yourself down. How the hell did he affect you this much?

And he was still holding you, his arm wrapped incredibly tight around your waist as he kept looking down at you. His own broad chest was heaving hard as he fought a losing battle to get himself back under control.

It was just a damn kiss for the mission. He shouldn't be this completely unhinged by it. But he felt his pulse fasten more and more the longer he sat there. You had kissed him. You—the bane of his very existence, the woman who had spent years yelling at him and riling him up—had kissed him, and he had liked it. He had liked it so much that a dark, primitive part of his mind wanted nothing more than to drag you right back to his lips, to kiss you heavily until you were breathless, and to roam his hands all over your bare skin, thats all—nothing big really.

He fucking wanted you, and it was nothing big—who was he kidding? It was probably the biggest newsflash in his entire thousand-year lifetime. He wanted you so much that he felt it shaking the very foundations of his immortal soul.

I want her, his mind echoed fiercely. I want her, I want to consume her, I want to be completely consumed by her.

Thor averted his eyes toward the table, his jaw locking. Fuck. How the hell did this happen?

“Yes, we get it, damn,” Alejandro said, breaking the heavy silence with a loud laugh, holding his hands up in surrender.

Valentin, however, was a completely different story. His dark, calculating gaze was still locked dead on your face, intensely trying to decipher the lingering daze in your eyes, trying to see if there was still a crack in the armor—if he could keep on pursuing you.

You noticed his stare immediately, your eyes locking onto his. A sharp jolt of reality hit you. You were sitting in Thor's lap, your thighs crossed over his, kissed by him so thoroughly that your mind had gone entirely blank. You had completely forgotten about your objective.

The codes. You needed the damn digital decryption keys.

You had told Thor earlier that you would handle Valentin tomorrow, but after the possessive display he had just put on, he would clearly find a way to interfere if you tried to flirt with the man tomorrow. It had to be tonight. It had to happen right now under the cover of this party.

Your mind rapidly formulated a plan: you had to first find a way to get away from Thor, corner Valentin alone at the bar, seduce him, and slip a few drops of truth serum into his whiskey glass to extract the server access codes.

It was a perfect, textbook assassin execution. But as you sat there, feeling the heavy, protective weight of Thor's hand on your hip, you realized something. You didn't want to leave the comfort of Thor's embrace.

Oh, how thoroughly, hopelessly fucked you were.

You had to get it together. Bracing yourself, you tried lifting your legs off Thor’s lap, but the exact second you shifted, his iron hold on your waist tightened. His eyebrows furrowed into a hard line, and his questioning, blazing blue gaze snapped up to lock onto yours. He didn’t say a word, but the look in his eyes was loudly demanding to know exactly where the hell you thought you were going.

Why was he acting like this? Why was he looking at you as if that kiss had completely unhinged him just as much as it had affected you?

You helplessly looked into his eyes, your gaze involuntarily dropping down to his swollen lips before snapping back up to his stare. “I’m just going to the bar,” you murmured.

“I’ll come with you,” he said immediately. His deep voice carried a rough, unyielding edge, his instincts focusing entirely on one single objective: keep that vile mortal fucker as far away from you as humanly possible.

“No!—” you scrambled out, a little too desperately, before quickly forcing a soft, reassuring smile to maintain the act. “I’ll be back in a second, honey. It’s okay.”

This felt devastatingly real. He looked genuinely jealous, his possessive aura radiating off him in suffocating waves.

“She can go alone, my friend. I own this entire establishment; nothing could possibly happen to her here,” Alejandro intervened with a booming laugh, reassuring the tense god.

Taking the opening, you carefully slipped out of Thor’s tight grip and stood up. The sudden lack of his heavy hands and burning heat against your skin left you feeling instantly cold, a sudden pang of withdrawal hitting you in the chest. You stubbornly ignored it. Catching Valentin’s eye across the table, you held his gaze for a few seconds longer than any happily married woman ever should, throwing him a subtle, inviting tilt of your head before turning on your heel and making your way toward the crowded bar—finally out of Thor’s direct line of sight.

You knew Valentin would make up a pathetic excuse to follow you within minutes. Arriving at the bar, you caught the bartender’s attention. “A virgin mojito, please,” you ordered smoothly. You were a professional; you were absolutely not going to consume a single drop of alcohol while on an active extraction mission.

You waited for a few minutes, slowly sipping on your refreshing mocktail while keeping your perimeter scan active. Right on cue, a smooth, arrogant voice slithered in next to your ear.

“I take it you didn’t look at me like that back there just to have a drink all by yourself?”

Valentin slid onto the barstool right next to you, his eyes brimming with a smug, predatory confidence.

A slow, practiced smirk pulled at your lips as you gracefully turned your upper body toward him, leaning one elbow against the counter. “I don’t think I get what you mean, Valentin.”

“Don’t play innocent. It’s not a good look on you,” he murmured, his eyes boldly dropping down to the neckline of your dress before rising back to your face. “Though, I must admit... I really like this whole going-around-his-back thing. A dangerous woman gets me thrilled.”

“Hm,” you mumbled, your smile becoming as beautiful and lethal as a viper's. You leaned in a fraction closer into his personal space, letting your voice drop into a sultry, confidential whisper. “Are you just going to stand there talking, or are you gonna have a drink with me?”

Valentin’s smirk widened, completely intoxicated by the sudden green light. “I could never say no to a woman like you.” He immediately raised a hand to the bartender. “Get me a double Macallan, neat.”

As the bartender turned around to pour the amber liquor, you covertly slid your right hand into the small, hidden pocket built into the lining of your white midi dress. Your fingertips brushed against the tiny, cold glass vial containing S.H.I.E.L.D.-issued truth serum—colorless, odorless, and fast-acting.

The bartender placed the heavy crystal whiskey glass right in front of Valentin.

“You know,” you purred, deliberately reaching across Valentin's chest to grab a small bowl of nuts from the opposite side of his stool. The intentional movement forced your bare shoulder to brush heavily against his chest, completely breaking his concentration as his eyes locked onto your neck.

With a fluid, invisible grace, your thumb flicked the cap off the vial. As your arm crossed over his open whiskey glass, you seamlessly dropped three drops of the serum directly into the amber liquid.

You pulled back, placing the bowl between you with an innocent, dazzling smile. “A toast. To private tastings.”

“To private tastings,” Valentin echoed darkly, completely oblivious. He picked up the crystal glass and took a massive, confident gulp of the whiskey, swallowing the serum down in one smooth motion.

You counted the seconds in your head. Three. Two. One.

Almost instantly, Valentin’s posture relaxed a fraction too much. The sharp, predatory spark in his eyes suddenly dulled into a slight, hazy glaze, his blinking slowing down as the neural inhibitors rapidly flooded his system, forcing his vocal cords to lose all capacity for deception.

Your smirk turned razor-sharp. It was time to get to work.

“Valentin,” you whispered, leaning in so close your breath brushed his ear, masking your interrogation beneath the thumping bass of the party. “Let’s talk about your brother’s collection. Where are the digital decryption keys for the Dark Elf technology stored?”

Valentin’s jaw loosened, his voice coming out completely flat, devoid of its previous arrogant inflection. “The main encryption drive stays locked in the master server vault... sub-level two of the main villa compound. Hold on why are you asking me th—”

“And how do I bypass the biometric firewall?” you cut him off before he could think.

“The security bypass code changes every twelve hours,” Valentin droned automatically, his hand resting limply against the counter.

“Mhm, and what is it lets say... tomorrow night?” you pushed seamlessly, your eyes locked onto his dazed face.

“Tomorrow night's terminal override sequence for the vault is... Alpha-Niner-Seven-X-Ray-Delta.”

Bingo.

Your brain instantly memorized the alphanumeric sequence, a cold, triumphant rush of adrenaline flooding your veins. You had the codes for tomorrow. The entire mission could be wrapped up in less than three days, just like you wanted. You could finally leave this godforsaken resort, get away from this cover, and most importantly—get away from the dangerous, addictive pull of the God of Thunder.

Valentin pouted as he looked at you, his eyes glassy and confused under the weight of the serum. "But why are you asking me all th—"

“I have to go, dear,” you cut him off quickly, placing a hand on his bicep and giving it a soothing squeeze to keep him compliant.

But his hand snapped up, gripping your arm to keep you from pulling away. “No, you can't leave. I had plans for us tonight...”

“No plans for us today,” you cooed, lowering your voice to a soft, hypnotic purr as you playfully booped his nose. He pouted even more at the gesture. You mentally rolled your eyes, already looking back toward the crowded VIP booth to check on Thor.

“But I wanted to fuck you—“

You whipped your head back toward Valentin so fast you thought you were going to get whiplash. But before you could even react to his crude words, he was brutally cut off.

A massive hand descended from the shadows like a falling meteor, wrapping entirely around the back of Valentin’s head and fiercely slamming his face straight down onto the marble counter.

Crack.

You gasped, your eyes blowing wide. Nearby guests screamed and immediately scrambled away, completely shocked by the sudden, violent ordeal. Valentin let out a pathetic, muffled groan as a dark stream of red instantly started dripping down his nostrils, pooling on the counter.

Thor held him pinned there, his massive hand basically covering most of Valentin's skull. You were so damn sure that if he applied just a fraction more pressure, he would crush the man's head like a ripe grape.

“You do not talk to my wife like that,” Thor growled, his voice a vibrating rumble that shook the very foundation of the bar.

“Thor, stop it!” you panicked, your hands desperately finding his rigid bicep, trying to pull his arm back.

Muffled against the stone, Valentin let out a wet, dizzy chuckle, the serum making him completely reckless. “Well, god-man... your wife lured me here—“

Slam.

Thor violently cracked his head against the counter a second time.

“I told you not to make a scene, didn't I?!”you yelled at the top of your lungs over the blasting music, frantically pulling at his arm to stop him from committing murder.

Thor slowly turned his head to look down at you. His blue eyes were completely blown with an unhinged, primitive rage. “I told you not to make me make one, did I not?!” he yelled back, his booming voice completely overriding the bass of the blasting lounge music.

You involuntarily flinched at the volume and raw power of his voice. You let out a sharp, furious huff, tore your hands off his arm, and turned around to bolt.

“Where do you think you're going?!” he demanded loudly.

He finally let go of Valentin, leaving theman to groan and slump heavily against the bar as you made your way out of the party. Every single eye of the high-society couples was locked onto you, whispering in terror as you stormed past.

“Stop!” Thor yelled after you, his heavy footsteps echoing right behind you, but your steps only fastened into a dead sprint.

You practically flew down the dark, stone paths of the resort, making your way back to the secluded villa. There wasn't a single soul around out here.

“I told you to stop!” he yelled again, his massive strides easily closing the distance as he caught up to you just as you reached the front door.

“And I told you to behave!” you screamed back, throwing the door open and slamming it behind you, desperately trying to force the heavy wood to lock on his face.

But you failed miserably.

“And I told you to stay away from him!” Thor yelled, forcing the door open without a single shred of effort—it was probably like flicking away a fly for him—before he aggressively slammed it shut behind him, sealing the two of you inside the tense silence of the villa.

“Why do you care?!” you yelled, throwing your arms up in the air as you spun around to face him, your face burning hot from rage.

“Why did you defy what I told you?” he pushed, stepping heavily into your personal space, his towering chest heaving.

“Because you are my mission partner, not my superior!”you shrieked, the built-up frustration of the last few hours completely boiling over. “God! You and your insufferable superiority complex!” You yelled again, aggressively turning your back to him to get away from his presence, making a beeline toward the open balcony doors.

“Do not walk away from me!” Thor roared.

In two quick strides, he crossed the room. His hand locked firmly around your wrist, his grip unyielding but careful not to break you, as he yanked you back and turned you around to face him dead-on.

You opened your mouth to say something, but all words completely left you as you noticed how your noses were inches away, your breathing fastening to a panicked, ragged rhythm as you looked up at him. His chest was heaving just like yours, the sheer mass of him completely crowding you into the balcony's door. You just gulped, your eyes helplessly finding his lips again before you forced your gaze up to meet his intense stare.

“Why are you acting like you actually care?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly, your eyes filled with deep questioning. His eyes, which were locked onto your lips, finally flicked up to look directly into your eyes. He gulped, a muscle tightening in his jaw as he flatly lied, “I don’t.” He averted his eyes immediately after.

He cared. He fucking cared so much, but he could not let you know.

You scoffed loudly at his terrible deflection. “What’s all this then? You’ve been acting so strange since we got here—” His eyes snapped right back to yours, flashing with a sudden heat. “Oh, like you haven’t!” he said, his iron grip on your wrist tightening just a bit.

“What?” you gaped, your mouth forming a perfect 'O' shape at his audacity. “The nerve of you! I have been acting completely normal!” You aggressively tried to push against his heavy chest to create some distance, but it was like trying to shove a solid brick wall; it was not working.

“Have you, though?” he challenged. His head tilted slightly to the side as he looked down at you, his towering frame completely casting you in shadow. “You’ve been trying to avoid me ever since we arrived. Mind you, we are supposed to be husband and wife here, and instead of me, you kept throwing yourself into the arms of that bastard—”

“Excuse me for acting exactly like I should while we are on a high-stakes mission—”

“Is this how you act while you are on a mission?” he fiercely cut you off. He took a heavy, deliberate step forward, crowding you so completely that you were forced to push your back straight into the balcony door, the glass cool against your skin. His expression morphed into one of deep distaste—like the mere thought of you acting exactly like this on other operations disturbed him to his very bone.

“Not at all, Thor,” you muttered, finally averting your eyes as a wave of genuine discomfort washed over your face. “But I occasionally do have to seduce men here and there. It’s not a big deal—”

His thick eyebrows furrowed deeply. Before you could turn your face away completely, his large hand came up, his fingers gently but firmly catching your chin to force you to look at him. “Not a big deal? Is someone making you seduce them? There are other ways to extract information—” he started, his deep tone initially angry but quickly softening with a rare, unexpected touch of sympathy.

You swallowed hard against the lump in your throat. “Thor, I have been trained this way. And your ways are always too loud—”

“Who the fuck trained you like this?” he growled, the symapthy instantly vanishing into a dark, protective fury. “How many times have you done this, huh?”

Your own eyebrows furrowed in a defensive shield. His entire ftame was looming over you, completely clouding your thoughts and making it hard to think straight. You reached up, removing his hand from your face. “That is absolutely none of your business—”

His entire posture changed as the anger morphed into a heavy gravity. His eyes dropped to your arms first then followed to your midriff before snapping back to your face. “Who gave you those scars?”

“What?” Your eyes widened in pure horror, the air instantly taken right out of your lungs. This cannot be happening, your voice echoed inside your mind. He could not know. You could not let him see that vulnerable, broken piece of your past. “Thor, this is ridiculous. Let me go—”

You tried pushing him away again, your chest heaving in absolute desperation to break free from his hold. But he only used his mass to pin you into the door even more, his gaze intensely determined as his hand found your jaw once again, holding you still.

He was going to find out who those fuckers were, and he was going to make them pay. He didn't fully understand why he had this overwhelming, primitive urge to protect you, but he did, and he was going to deliver on it.

“Please, Little Flame,” he murmured, his voice dropping into a desperate plea. “Are they the same people who trained you?—”

“Why do you even want to know?!” you cried out, your voice finally cracking with deep pain. Tears instantly began brewing in your eyes, blurring his handsome face. He couldn't know. If he found out, he was going to use that knowledge against you. He was going to taunt you with it during your next argument, break you with your own nightmare of a history. He was going to make sure he hurt you, just like he did every single time he managed to get a glimpse of something personal about you. He was going to break your heart completely in half and toss it away.

He was going to, because he was the only person in the universe who actually had the power to do it.

“So you can torture me more?” you whispered, your voice shaking as a single tear escaped down your cheek.

Thor’s breath got caught in his throat. A sudden, physical pain pierced his chest, wrapping around his heart so tightly that he let out a sharp huff of air. It was a pain so great, so profoundly agonizing, that it started burning through his lungs before radiating all the way out to his fingertips.

Is this truly what you thought of him?

He knew he taunted you. He knew he did everything in his being to annoy you on a daily basis. He knew he wasn't your friend, and that you both claimed to dislike each other. But he had never, in his wildest dreams, thought you could actually think him capable of causing you real, deep-rooted pain.

A fierce, protective fire burned brightly behind his blue eyes as he leaned down, his lips practically brushing your temple as he spoke.

“So that I can torture them first as they did you,” he vowed, his voice low, terrifyingly dark promise that vibrated against your skin. “And then permanently remove them from existence.”

Your angelic face twisted into a look of deep, utter confusion. What the hell was he talking about? Why on Earth would he want to do something like that for you?

Thor’s hand softened on your jaw, his thumb gently wiping away the tear on your cheek with a heartbreaking amount of tenderness. He looked down at you, his pupils blown wide with an unyielding devotion. “No... I have a better idea. I am going to tear down whatever sanctuary they think they have, drag them to the deepest pits of Hel myself, and hand-deliver a punishment that will last for eternity. No one touches you, Little Flame. Never again.”

Your heart stuttered at his words, newfound tears completely blocking your vision now at being on the receiving end of them. He sounded so profoundly sincere, so entirely full of devotion that it made your stomach flutter wildly and your heart sing with a bittersweet ecstasy.

Why was he being this protective over you? Was it just because of your mission? Has he started to actually believe the lie, to believe you were truly his wife? And why did you believe every single word he said without an ounce of your usual skepticism?

How was he making your heart soar like this? Why did he have so much power over you, over your poor, guarded heart? Why did he have to be this perfect?

Why did you love him so much?

You gasped aloud as the intrusive thought took the remaining breath away from your lungs. You loved him. You were completely, undeniably in love with him. You were in love with the man who mocked you, annoyed you, tortured you with his words. You were in love with the man you claimed to dislike for all these years.

And that realization only made you cry harder, the tears spilling over your lashes because you were entirely convinced he was never going to love you back.

“I—” you started, trying to find your voice, but a heavy, broken sob ripped through your chest instead.

Thor's face immediately fell into an expression of deep, agonizing concern. His blue eyes searched your face frantically as he wrapped his massive arms around you, pulling you securely against his broad chest.

“Please do not cry, honey,” he murmured, his deep baritone cracking in pain.

He called you honey. He called you honey in private, in the quiet safety of your shared room, while holding you as if you were made of glass. It was so sweet, so tender, so full of an unprompted meaning. What on earth had happened to the two of you? Just hours ago, you were bitterly bickering about your morning coffee, but now you were collapsed in his arms, crying simply because he wanted to protect you.

Nobody did that for you. Nobody had ever said they would protect you, because they always expected you to handle it yourself. They knew what you were capable of; they knew you were lethal.

Nobody ever thought you would need someone else to do your bidding for you.

His large hand moved to the back of your head, his thick fingers gently stroking through your hair as he spoke, his voice dropping into a raspy whisper. “Darling, are you crying because of me?” He swallowed hard, his voice cracking again. “Do you truly think I mean to harm you? Do you think so little of me?”

You sobbed, your fingers clutching desperately onto the fabric of his shirt, burying your face into his chest.

“I’m begging you, do not cry,” he gulped, his own chest heaving as he held you tighter. “It... it hurts me.”

“I had been nothing but a laboratory experiment to them,” you finally choked out, the confession tearing out of your throat.

Thor froze instantly, his entire muscular body stiffening beneath your touch.

Slowly, you tilted your head up, your chin resting against his chest. Your lashes were damp with heavy tears that still kept falling silently down your cheeks. Thor’s hand gently cupped your face, his thumb catching the moisture, his eyes entirely locked onto yours as he listened with a quiet focus.

“They didn’t see a young woman,” you whispered, your throat tightening painfully as your grip on his shirt tightened. “They only saw a lab rat. A nameless object to be broken, tested, and rebuilt. I remember the cold steel of the table. I remember begging and begging... crying until my eyes bled, but they just kept on going.”

Thor’s blue eyes darkened into a midnight so black it looked like a brewing storm. A terrifying rage formed deep within him—a rage so massive and destructive that he felt he could destroy all of humanity just to see the lingering pain disappear from your eyes.

“Who are they?” He demanded, and your eyes closed in despair.

Should you tell him? Should you let him be a part of the darkest corners of your past?

Should you trust him?

“Darling, please tell me,” he begged, his voice trembling with a restrained fury as he looked down at you. “Who did this to you?”

Your throat tightened, your pulse fluttering at his gentle words and protective tone. You sighed opening your eyes, “They were a faction I later discovered to be the vile, lingering remnants of Hydra.”

Thor saw pure red. His throat tightened to the point of suffocation at the horrific image of you at the mercy of those monsters—being tortured, crying, entirely helpless.

“I need names,” he growled softly, the air in the room turning heavy with static.

“I don’t have names—”

“I will find names.”

“I don't know if you can, Thor, it was years—”

“I will,” he cut you off, his tone leaving absolutely no room for argument. He brought his other hand to your cheek, tilting your face up just a fraction. “Keep going, honey.” His voice was incredibly gentle for you, even as the undercurrent of his rage thrummed through his veins. He could barely bear to listen to the atrocities you had survived, but he had to. You were finally opening up to him, and he would listen to you until the end of time.

You gulped, trying to steady your breathing. “At the time, they were desperate, trying to replicate the lost Super Soldier serum using volatile cosmic energy signatures they barely understood.” You let out another shaky sob, and Thor immediately rubbed your back in slow, soothing circles, offering you every ounce of comfort his massive frame could provide. “More needles inserted into my skin... more radiation pumped into my veins, all for the sake of a twisted immortality.”

You held him tighter, closing your eyes against the memories. “And once they realized what they had created, they turned me into a ghost. An assassin. They forced me—forced me to do horrific, bloody things, Thor. I hurt so many people.” You opened your eyes, looking up at him with an unbearable vulnerability. “I did horrible, horrible things.”

The tears came faster now, the weight of your past crushing you as you sobbed uncontrollably against him. “I never wanted to do any of those things... they made me, I swear they made me, and they hurt me to make me do it—”

“Shh, sweetheart,” Thor interrupted softly, his voice thick with emotion as he clutched you even tighter against his heart, burying his face into your hair, his nose nudging your scalp as he did so. “None of this is your fault. Look at me.” He pulled back just enough to cup your face with both of his massive hands, gently forcing you to look up into his striking blue eyes. “None of it is your fault.”

“I am the one who did all of it—” Your voice cut off as another wave of tears streamed down your cheeks. It was like a dam had permanently broken in your chest, and there was absolutely no stopping it now. You were crying for the stolen years, crying for the innocent lives your hands had been forced to take, crying because you felt completely stripped bare and vulnerable—but most of all, you were crying because you loved him.

“I told you it is not your fault, sweetheart,” he said, his tone turning fiercely stern, leaving no room for you to argue with him. “You were kidnapped. Tortured.” He gulped like it was a great pain to say these words, “Your whole life was altered by monsters. You were made to do all of it.” His own voice grew heavy with sadness as he looked at your tears. “You did nothing wrong. You were just trying to survive, honey.”

“I’m so glad Steve and Tony saved me,” you whispered, your throat burning. “I... I don’t know what I’d do if it wasn't for them.”

At the mention of their names, Thor felt his chest tighten with a sharp, unexpected pang. Who else on the team knew the full extent of this? Steve and Tony, definitely. Natasha? You two were close; you would have told her. Bucky? Bruce? Clint? Was he truly the only person who had been left completely in the dark?

And to think he had called you gloomy.

A heavy cloak of regret settled over his shoulders. It was all true—everything he had confessed to Alejandro and Valentin at the table. He had thought you were the most breathtakingly beautiful woman he had ever seen the moment you walked into the compound years ago. But he had fucked it all up by opening his mouth and saying you looked gloomy. Would the two of you be any different right now if he hadn't used that stupid word?

“I am sorry,” he mumbled, the unexpected words catching your attention through the haze of your crying. He looked down at you, his eyes pained. “So fucking sorry I called you gloomy. Truly sorry. Can you—” He gulped hard, his chest heaving. “Can you forgive me?”

“I...” You trailed off, staring up at him in utter disbelief. Where the hell was this coming from? The walls around your heart instantly tried to slam back up. “Do you pity me now? Is that it?” you asked, your tone shifting into something sharp and defensive.

Thor’s eyes widened in immediate panic. “No—not pity. Towards you at least, never. I pity myself.”

“What does that even mean—”

“I meant every single word I said back there at the table,” he said softly, his thumbs tenderly grazing your cheeks to wipe away the fresh tears.

Your heart gave a violent flutter against your ribs, but it felt entirely too good to be true. You couldn't let yourself fall for a beautiful lie. “Do not mock me, Thor—”

“I would never.”

Your eyebrows went straight up, your expression clearly stating the obvious. He loved mocking you. He made it his absolute daily mission to get under your skin and irritate you to death.

Thor scrunched his face up at your look, a soft, self-deprecating sigh escaping his lips. “On this matter, I mean. I would never, ever mock you on a matter such as this, Little Flame.”

You scoffed, quickly averting your eyes from the intensity of his gaze. “Now you're just being cruel, big guy—“you tried to pry yourself off him, but one of his hands holding your face descended to your waist and circled it tightly.

“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met in my thousands of years alive.”

Your eyes widened with shock as they snapped back to meet his. Your heart dropped straight to your stomach with a violent jolt of excitement—of pure happiness.

“I am?” you whispered, the words coming out small and fragile, like a secret you were almost too afraid to speak aloud. It felt entirely unbelievable.

“You are,” he said, nodding firmly as he looked down at you.

There was something profoundly pure swirling in his deep blue eyes. It was a look you dared not name, because if you did, the only thing you could possibly call it would be adoration. He looked at you as if he completely and utterly adored you.

As you stared up at him, it hit you: that look was familiar.

He had always looked at you this way. Back at the compound, during your worst arguments, across the briefing table—his pupils would blow wide, a hidden mirth would dance behind his eyes, mixed with this exact same heavy, unyielding intensity. All these years, you had defensively rewritten that look as dislike, as a god looking down on an annoying mortal. Has he always looked at you with adoration in his eyes? Or were you just desperately lying to yourself now because your own walls were crumbling?

Either way, your breath was completely knocked out of you. Panic, cold and sharp, flooded your veins. You had to get away from him. You had to protect your heart, your soul, whatever was left of your sanity. You had already bared your darkest, most painful secret to him—the one thing you had specifically kept hidden from him out of fear—and you were terrified of what else you might reveal the longer you spent wrapped up in his arms.

“I—“You panicked even more as his gaze softened with that heartbreakingly tender look. You planted your palms against his chest and pushed. “I think it would be better if you let go of me now.” Thor’s expression changed, the vulnerability vanished, his eyes darkening to a stormy, dangerous hue. He had just laid his soul bare, admitting he found you more beautiful than anything in the cosmos, and now you were demanding he let you go?

“No,” he rumbled, his grip on your waist tightening rather than loosening. “Why would I do that?”

“Because I want you to—I need you to—“

“Why would you need me to do that?” he demanded, his voice dropping dangerously. “Are you that disgusted by me?”

Before you could even process the question, his expression shifted again. The anger twisted into something entirely unhinged as the green-eyed monster clawed ruthlessly at his insides, blinding him with an irrational fury.

“So you will gladly get close to that bastard at the bar, let his filthy hands touch your skin, but you cannot bear to have me hold you?”

Your mouth parted as you looked at him with pure, unyielding disbelief. “What on earth are you on about? Why do you keep talking about him like I'm actually into him—“

“Are you?” he fiercely cut you off.

He leaned down further, his eyes agressively scanning every inch of your face, his hot breath fanning across your lips. It made your breath hitch painfully in your throat. His completely irrational, wild behavior was forcing you to consider a reality you shouldn't. Something you would have never dared to think of just moments ago. Was he jealous?

Was he actually fucking jealous?

A dangerous spark of defiance flared up inside your chest. “What if I am?” you pushed, tilting your chin up to challenge him. “You cannot be,” he said, a flash of pure, territorial anger burning hot behind his eyes. “I will not let you. You are—you—“ He stammered, his usual booming eloquence completely deserting him as his gaze furiously swept over your face, desperately trying to decipher if you actually harbored any feelings for that fucker.

You smiled daringly up at him. You knew you probably looked absolutely wicked right now, with your smudged mascara, your flushed cheeks, and that fierce, determined look in your eyes.

“Are you jealous, big guy?” you whispered.

Your hands, which had been resting on his chest, began trailing upwards to his neck seductively. You didn't even have control over your own body anymore; it was like some primal instinct had taken over and you had to do this. You had to break him. You had to get him to confess. You felt entirely insane—just seconds ago, you were panicking and trying to push him away, and now you were mindlessly feeling him up, loving the power you had over him. Fuck.

Thor felt his heartbeat fasten against his ribs. His arm around your waist constricted, pulling you so close that there wasn't a single shred of air left between your bodies, his jaw locking hard in place. He knew exactly what you were doing. You were playing with fire on purpose. He made a ‘pfft’ sound, “I am not—“ he tried, desperately attempting to lie straight to your face.

“I think you are, honey,” you purred, leaning in until your breath fanned directly over his lips, your thumb lazily circling the heated skin at the nape of his neck. Even his neck was hot, for god's sake. It was thick and masculine. He was so masculine. His eyes immediately drifted down to your lips again, his resolve crumbling. “I am not. I simply... I wish to protect you because you are my teammate—“

“Oh, so I should just go back down to the bar and find him, then?” you pushed ruthlessly. You tilted your head, feigning complete innocence with your wide, tear-bright eyes.

He huffed, utterly furious at the mere suggestion. “Absolutely not. You are not leaving this damn room without me by your side.”

Your wicked smile widened. “Why not?” you purred, your face moving a fraction closer until your lips almost brushed his jaw. “I could touch him like this...” Your hands drifted down from his neck, sliding over the heavy planes of his chest down to his massive biceps, making his muscles instantly twitch under your fingertips. “I could kiss him like I did you, just minutes ago—“

Thor couldn't take it a single second longer.

His lips slanted over yours, ruthlessly cutting your sentence and your breath off. He pulled you even closer toward him, holding you like you were his absolute lifeline, pressing you so tight against his broad, muscular frame that it felt like your bodies were becoming one. You kissed him back passionately, completely losing yourself in the intoxicating heat of it. Your hands flew up to find his rough cheeks, and you pushed yourself up on your tiptoes, pressing your lips hungrily onto his.

He bit your lower lip with a sudden, needy sharpness, then stopped. He reluctantly moved his head away just a few inches, his breathing heavy and ragged as he whispered against your mouth, “You are not to kiss anyone but me.” His thumb came up, grazing over your throbbing lower lip. “Stop it, alright?” he whispered, then pecked your lips.

“Why—“

He pecked your lips again, roughly cutting you off, and then growled the confession right into your mouth: “Because I am fucking jealous, okay honey?”

He kissed you again, and you actually smirked straight into the kiss. The absolute victory of making a literal god admit defeat made your heart soar into the stratosphere. You pulled back though your lips were still grazing his, whispering wickedly against his mouth, “What was that?”

He pecked your lips again, desperate, heavy, and completely surrendered to you. “I have been burning with jealousy since I saw him lay his filthy eyes on you. I do not know what is wrong with me, but I—” He gulped hard, his large thumb slowly gliding over your flushed cheek. “I am consumed by it.”

A breathless, giddy giggle escaped your lips then. “Okay, big guy.”

He was jealous. The King of Asgard was completely, undeniably jealous, and he had just admitted it to you in the dark of your room. Oh god, you were losing your mind—and you never wanted to find it again.

But one question prodded at your mind before he made it all disappear with a fierce kiss, why was he jealous in the first place?

But you were not in your right mind. Because Thor wasn’t kissing you like a normal kiss. He was inhaling you, and it was already lighting you on fire.

The height difference was clearly bothering him as much as it was bothering you. Feeling the strain, Thor lowered himself just a bit before sliding his hands under your thighs, effortlessly lifting you completely off the floor, making your dress ride up. Your arms immediately circled around his thick neck—the very same neck you had been dying to strangle just hours ago—and you let out a soft moan directly into his mouth as his hands slipped up from your thighs to find your ass, squeezing your cheeks tightly as he pinned you securely against his massive frame. You moaned into his mouth, not being able to help it.

A hand left your ass and wrapped around your neck, while the other moved back to your waist to securely hold you, angling your face to kiss you as deeply as he wanted. His tongue pressed over yours as he walked himself backward into the bedroom. The kiss was heated, so full of passion you felt your insides burn with it. His kisses descended to your jaw, then to your neck as he hummed in deep appreciation. What were you doing kissing Thor, of all people? What were you doing letting Thor take you to bed, of all people?

But the thought couldn't even fully form as he bit down on your neck, making you whine in pain.

“Thor—” you begged, without knowing what it was you were begging for.

— “Yes?” he rumbled against your skin as he licked the sensitive spot on your neck, then he laid you over the mattress, settling his heavy body over you. He massaged your hips as he settled himself deeply between your legs. You spread them wide to accommodate him, and felt it poking hard against your thigh.

His cock, thick and hard, was somehow bigger than you had imagined—and you hadn’t been thinking small.

“Guess we don't have to fight over who gets the bed anymore,” you quipped, your voice breathless, trying to find a defense in your usual wit.

It made him chuckle, a low vibration against your chest. “I guess not,” he whispered, then took your lips again. This kiss was softer than before, slowly dismantling you as his lips glided over yours. Then he pressed his hips heavily against your core, making you whine out loud.

“Do you feel that?” He pulled your upper lip between his teeth, smiling slightly into the heat of your face. “It’s what you do to me. Ever since we landed here, I’ve be walking around so hard I was worried you’d see it. But no.” He kissed one corner of your mouth, then the other. “You’re oblivious, aren’t you, honey?”

He found you that attractive?

You hummed, tipping your head back in complete surrender. Thor groaned, dragging his lips over a throbbing pulse point, letting his tongue flick against the sensitive skin of your throat. “You like that too,” he grunted, his breath hot in your ear. “You like being the one person that gets me going, that makes me lose it. No one else, my Little Flame.”

He held your hips again and pushed your ass forward, locking you in place so your clit was pushed tightly against the thick hardness of him through the fabric. A long moan escaped your lips, and you dropped your face into his shoulder, completely undone.

Thor grunted, rutting forward, and it was so fucking hot you couldn't think past it. The deep drawl of his voice in your ear, the impossible strength of him around you—it was intoxicating. The clothing added a desperate, heavy extra friction, his fingers digging into your hips.

“Just you,” he thrusted forward against your core, squeezing your ass tightly with his other hand. “Only you, sweetheart. So beautiful and sassy, driving me insane—“

You whimpered as Thor made a low, ragged sound, taking a deep, shaky breath against your hair. His hand then slipped into your panties, his deft fingers dragging down to tease right against the already damp drip of your pussy. His fingers started circling your clit, a thick dampness forming immediately down there under his torturously perfect touch. “Please—” you cried out, your hips bucking up instinctively against his hand, begging for him to end this perfect torture.

“Please what, honey?i Thor rasped, his touch growing heavier, more demanding as he felt your walls slick and trembling for him. “Tell me exactly what you want me to do to you”

“I want you,” you gasped out as he inserted his middle finger inside you—and fuck, even his finger was incredibly large.

“Not enough, sweetheart,” he grumbled, pressing his thumb firmly down onto your clit, making you squirm and twitch helplessly in place beneath his weight.

“What do I have to say—“

“I said tell me exactly what you want, did I not?” he rumbled, suddenly moving his finger deep inside you, rhythmically fucking you with it. You whined loudly at the overwhelming friction, your hands locking onto his massive biceps and squeezing hard enough to leave marks. “I want you to—“ you gasped, your vision blurring. “I want you to fuck me... no, I need you to fuck me. Please.”

You were completely reduced to begging him. In response, his fingers slicked deeper as he added his ring finger into your heat, stretching you beautifully, but then he stopped abruptly.

There was simply too much extra fabric from your midi dress crumpled up in his way.

Your eyebrows furrowed, the sudden loss of momentum leaving you aching and confused. “What is it?”

He didn't respond with words. Instead, his large hands slid down to your lower back, his knuckles brushing your bare skin as his fingers found the zipper of your dress.

Your blood ran completely cold in an instant. Your whole body stiffened up beneath him, every single muscle locking tight.

Your scars.

Other people, other agents, had seen them on the battlefield or during training, and you had never felt bad about it. But this was Thor. You knew he had caught a fleeting glimpse of them at the pool earlier, but he hadn't truly seen all of them. He hadn't seen the worst of them. And this was not a public pool, was it? This was intimate. This was completely private. Which meant he would have all the time in the world to analyze them with his eyes, more time to realize how broken your body really was, more time to get disgusted by them—

The heavy weight of his hand cupped your jaw, covering it completely and instantly grounding you, cutting your spiraling thoughts short. “What is it?” he asked softly, his blue eyes searching yours in the dim light. “What's wrong, Little Flame?”

You gulped hard, helplessly averting your eyes from his intense stare. “I—I don't know about this...”

“Do you want to stop?” he asked immediately, completely freezing, his hand instantly lifting away from the zipper of your dress without hesitation.

“No!” you scrambled out desperately. Your eyes snapped back to find his, and you saw deep confusion in them.

How could he not be confused? You probably looked completely insane to him right now. First you were kissing him like there was no tomorrow, then you were begging him to take you, then you were voicing a doubt, but you were still fiercely refusing to stop. You were goddamn confusing.

You closed your eyes, a wave of shame washing over you. “It's just that I...” You swallowed hard. “I don't think I should remove my dress.”

His eyebrows furrowed deeply. “But I want to feel you. I do not understand,” he said, getting more perplexed by the second.

You huffed, unable to meet his eyes. “My scars... they are not pleasant to look at, Thor.”

“You do not know what is pleasant to my eyes or not,” he countered instantly, his deep voice carrying an unyielding certainty that took you completely aback.

“But—“

“I find you attractive. I find your scars attractive. I find every single part of you breathtakingly attractive,” he said, his tone dropping into a fierce vow as his hand found the track of your zipper once again. He didn't pull it, he just waited, asking for your trust. “Please let me see you, darling,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over yours, his warm breath intoxicating. “So that I can witness your beauty. So that I can show you exactly how much I love your scars, how much I love every part of you.”

Your eyes were wide, your heart beating so fast and hard against your ribs it felt painful. Should you actually let him?

This was Thor, for god's sake. He was never the nicest person to you—

But was he not?

A sudden rush of memories flooded your brain, completely reframing the last few years. He always looked out for you on dangerous missions, shielding your blind spots. Even though he irritated you daily, he always helped you carry heavy equipment crates—though not before he smugly made you cave in and admit you couldn't do it yourself, just like he did with your suitcases. He had caught you by the waist every single time you tripped. His eyes had always, always been tracked onto you in every room. And tonight, he had called you the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his thousands of years of life, before literally threatening to crush a man's skull for disrespecting you.

So no. He had never been rude to you. He had always been good to you. He annoyed you, sure, but he was so goddamn protective and sweet to you in his own annoying and loud way, and you had somehow just noticed it. How the hell did you just notice it?

Your chest was heaving heavily as you made your final decision, the remaining walls around your heart completely collapsing.

“Okay,” you whispered, nodding your head against the pillow.

Thor smiled then—a soft, blindingly beautiful smile that made him look younger, happier. His lips easily found yours again in a deep, reassuring kiss as his hand slowly, smoothly slid the zipper all the way down, gently removing the white dress from your body and leaving nothing between you but the heat of his skin.

You were now left in your white bra and panties, his gaze burning your skin as he looked all over you. His heart soared at the sight of you, but he felt a sharp pang of pain in his chest at the scars littering your skin. They were a lot more than he thought, but gods, they only made you more attractive to him. A strong woman, with the face of an angel and the body of a goddess—you were always meant to be his undoing.

His fingers grazed a thin line along your ribs as his mind echoed fiercely, She is beautiful, and I am going to make them pay for hurting her, all of them.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you squirmed, a faint trace of your old discomfort resurfacing. Instead of drawing back, he leaned over your body, his face level with your stomach as his large hands gently grabbed your sides, anchoring you. And then, he lowered his head and kissed one of the most visible, ragged scars you had near your hip.

“You are beautiful. Truly a goddess... one fit for me,” he muttered against your skin, before kissing the mark again.

Your breath hitched, your head spinning into a daze. That specific scar was from the most lethal trauma you had ever endured. You had almost died that day; in fact, you had hoped to die that day just to escape. But your captives had found a way to keep you alive, using brutal, advanced procedures to permanently bind your altered biology together. Tears welled up in your eyes, your vision blurring for the second time that night. To see him kiss it like that—so tenderly, with so much reverence—made something warm and heavy fill your chest. It was like a fractured part of you was finally feeling whole again.

I love him, your mind screamed at you for the second time that day. Your right hand instinctively found his rough cheek, your fingers tangling in his beard as he kept kissing your scars. One left from needles being inserted into the exact same place dozens of times; one left from a failed escape attempt on a mission they sent you on, a punishment for not obeying... He was kissing every single one of them.

And while his lips hovered over the worst one near your hip again, you finally whispered, “I almost died when I got that one.”

His head immediately whipped up, his heart tightening painfully in his chest at your words. “What?” he asked, his throat closing in, his blue eyes blazing with an intense, dark focus.

“They used a plasma blade to slice me open during a combat stress-test,” you whispered, the memory making your voice shake. “They wanted to see how fast the cosmic energy in my blood would knit the flesh back together while I was conscious. I begged them to just let me bleed out.”

Thor’s hold on your sides violently tightened, his knuckles turning white and his jaw locking so hard a muscle strove in his cheek. “I am going to make them pay, Little Flame." he said his voice determined, "I am going to avenge you. They are going to feel the wrath of the God of Thunder, be sure of that. No one, and I mean no one, gets away with hurting you.”

He turned his head toward the hand holding his cheek, shifting slightly to press a deep, lingering kiss against the inside of your wrist, right over your pulsing vein, like he wanted to be sure you were alive. Like he needed reassurance of your well being after your confession. He could not bear the thought of you in pain, but death? You on the brink of death? His poor heart could not take it. “I do not know what you did to me, sweetheart, but you—” he gulped, his eyes locked on yours, “you have a hold on me that no one else ever did. That no one else ever could.”

He leaned up, his chest heaving against yours. “I cannot help it. I cannot help but be jealous, I cannot help but be protective, possessive... I just can't help it. You have completely bewitched me.”

Your breathing fastened as your heart fluttered wildly in your chest at his words. What did he mean? How was he talking like this? He couldn't love you, you knew that—you were just deeply flawed partners on a mission—but a part of your soul soared at the fact that he harbored these intense, desperate urges for you. Even if it wasn't love, he felt for you with a terrifying depth.

When his large hands moved down to remove your white bra, you reached up and caught his wrists, tsking him with a breathless smirk. “Don't you think you're being a bit unfair, big guy? It's your turn.”

Your hands found his collar, pulling his heavy frame down to your lips. You kissed him deeply, pouring all your hidden, aching feelings into it, while your shaky fingers began working on the unbuttoning of his shirt. Your hands were trembling with excitement and the weight of your feelings for him. When you finally removed your lips from his, you let out a frustrated huff, looking down at the fabric because your frantic fingers couldn't unbutton them fast enough.

Thor just chuckled, a rumbling sound against your chest. He took matters into his own hands, gripping the shirt and casually pulling it over his head with one smooth motion, tossing it blindly across the room.

“Oh fuck... you honestly are a god,” you whispered, taking him in fully. His biceps were literally the size of your head, his pecs perfectly sculpted, his abs defined and casting shadows in the dim light—he was going to be the absolute death of you.

He chuckled again, clearly enjoying your completely awestruck expression, and immediately took it to his advantage. His large hand slid behind your back, and with a single, practiced flick of his fingers, he unclasped your bra in a second.

You gasped in bewilderment, snapping your eyes up to meet his. “You sly fox,” you said, a wicked smirk returning to your lips.

He just held your bra up for a brief second like a captured banner of war, a triumphant smile lighting up his handsome face, before he tossed it away. Turning all of his massive, heavy attention back to you, his mouth immediately latched onto your right breast, his tongue swirling hot against your skin while his large hand slid down past your stomach to find your crotch.

“Ohmygod,” you gasped out in one breath.

His fingers hooked into the edge of your panties, sliding them down your hips before giving a firm, playful slap against your inner thigh. “Get your legs up for me, honey, so I can get these off,” he grunted against your skin. You quickly complied, lifting your hips and helping him slide the remaining lace down your legs until you were completely bared for him.

He let go of your nipple for a second, his large hands sliding down to grip your thighs with an iron hold, settling himself deeply between them again. He spread them wide open, his gaze dropping down to your glistening center. His tongue darted out in anticipation, his eyes dark with an intense, heavy hunger.

“You look so sweet, honey. Bet you taste as sweet as you look, don't you?” he murmured to himself, his deep baritone sending a thrill straight down your spine as he kept his gaze locked between your legs.

You whined in agonizing anticipation, your hips twitching on the mattress. “Do something—oh!”

You were cut off as his thumb pressed hard against your clit, slowly dragging all the way down your slick slit, catching your juices on his skin. He lifted his hand, looking down at his wet thumb before putting it directly between his lips, sucking the moisture off as he closed his eyes.

“Oh, yes you do taste sweet. Better than I ever imagined,” he rumbled, his voice rough. He leaned down and gave your pussy a light, playful slap, the stinging heat making you whine out loud.

“Thooor—”

He hovered back over your body, his mouth immediately returning to suckle hungrily on your right nipple. At the same time, his hand slid back between your thighs, inserting his middle finger deep inside you, quickly followed by his ring finger. His thumb began circling your clit in rhythmic patterns. Your mouth fell agape, your head tossing from side to side as you moaned and moaned, your body beautifully stretched by his incredibly large fingers.

Your hands locked onto his broad shoulders, squeezing tight, the slick friction of his touch rapidly driving you toward the edge, pulling you closer to that blissful, impending high.

“'M close,” you murmured, your eyes completely dazed. You pulled his head closer, biting down on the thick skin of his neck and suckling fiercely, making the god let out a deep, gravelly groan of pleasure.

“You’re driving me insane,” he growled against your skin, his fingers moving faster, driving deep inside your tight heat. “Come on, pretty girl, make a mess on my fingers.”

The pressure kept building and building in your lower stomach until it was entirely unbearable. “I—” you gasped, your toes curling into the sheets. “I’m gonna—”

“Come on, let it go, baby,” he commanded darkly.

And then you snapped. You came hard, whining and moaning loudly as wave after wave of intense pleasure rippled through your core, your walls clamping down violently around his fingers. Thor grunted, keeping his fingers moving through your contractions, forcing every last drop of pleasure out of you until you were breathlessly begging him to stop.

Before you could even catch your breath, Thor shifted. He reached down to his waist, lowering his trousers and boxers in a single, aggressive movement. Because he was already on his knees, the fabric simply bunched up around his knees, freeing his lower half.

Your eyes widened in absolute awe at the sight. He was big. Just as you had thought, but seeing him fully bare made him look even bigger. “Oh god,” you whispered.

Thor gave his length a slow, heavy pump of his hand, precum glistening at the tip as he smeared the moisture down his thick shaft. He looked down at you, his chest heaving.

“Do we need protection? Because I don't have any—” he asked, his voice thick with restraint. “No, we don't,” you said eagerly, you were on the pill.

Pushing yourself up onto your elbows, you looked his naked torso and heavy length over with a predatory hunger. “You’re so fucking handsome it’s annoying, do you know that?” you said, biting your lower lip.

He chuckled, a smug, low sound as he settled his weight back in between your open legs. “Why, thank you, Little Flame—”

Your hand shot out, planting firmly against his massive shoulder. “Can I ride you?” Thor stopped dead in his tracks, his chest heaving, his pupils blown wide. “What?”

“Can I ride you?” you asked again, your voice completely determined.

Taking full advantage of his momentary shock, you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist, using your core to pull him down as you deftly flipped your positions. Within a second, you were sitting squarely on top of his hard stomach. His defined abs twitched beneath you, the movement grazing directly against your freshly sensitive clit, making you take a sharp breath.

“You wanna do all the work, honey?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowing as a lazy, amused smirk tugged at his lips.

“Mhm,” you hummed, your eyes dazed and hooded as you looked down at his towering chest. He chuckled, his large hands rising to rest loosely on your hips. “Are you sure? You are well aware I possess the stamina of a god.”

You rolled your eyes at his typical Asgardian arrogance. “I am aware. Can you just stop talking and—”

“Are you getting on, or not?” he interrupted, his smirk widening as he tilted his hips up just a fraction, the warm tip of his cock brushing against your entrance.

For a split second, the temptation to be difficult returned. “I am definitely reconsidering it now,” you pouted, crossing your arms over your bare chest and throwing him a defiant look.

But Thor just snorted, rolling his eyes at your stubbornness. Before you could even blink, his hands gripped your hips with terrifying strength and he lifted you up. You didn't even get a second to think before he downwardly forced your hips straight onto his thick dick, burying himself inside you all the way to the hilt.

The air was knocked completely from your lungs. Thor was so deep in you it was pushing all the thoughts out of your brain. You gaped down at him, making weak, breathless noises as your pussy pulsed and stretched beautifully around his thickness. His fingers dug deeply into your hips, the only sign that he was struggling to hold himself back from taking over completely.

“Much as I enjoy you trying to take control,” he muttered, his large hands sliding down to massage your ass with a heavy, grounding pressure, “I'd rather keep you full of me so you stop thinking.”

He reached up slowly, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You bit your bottom lip, whining at the unbearable fullness, and he chuckled, settling his upper body fully into the pillows. Your hands found his chest, your fingers grabbing firmly onto his broad pectorals for balance. “Ride it, baby,” he ordered, his voice a low, gravelly command.

And god help you, you tried. You caught your breath after a long moment that felt like an eternity and started to roll your hips. Thor groaned, his heavy eyelids fluttering as your tight heat dragged over his length, but he deliberately didn't help you yet. His hands remained firm on your body, forcing you to use every ounce of your strength to grind down onto his dick.

Your movements accidentally pushed him right against that sensitive, gooey spot inside of you, and you faltered with a long, broken moan. You shifted, forcing his thick head right against it again, and he let out a sharp breath, though he still didn't take the reins. “Uhh—” you whined, your head spinning.

“Feels good, does it not?” he cooed, his cock throbbing heavily inside you. “Nice and big, filling up your pussy so good.”

You moaned, your hips bucking instinctively. Thor grunted, thrusting up just slightly to meet you, and you tipped your head back as a shiver ran down your spine. The friction was incredible. For a second, back arched and thighs aching, you actually managed to find a rhythm. It started slow, rolling and pushing Thor’s cock right where you wanted it.

You looked down at him, sweaty and utterly adoring beneath you. His hands wandered over your skin, his breathing ragged and his lips parted as he watched you take him.

“That's a good girl,” he muttered, his blue eyes blown wide. “There you go, My Star.” He continued, “My beautiful fucking Star, so good for me are you not?”

You keened at the praise, your pace moving faster. Your knees were growing weak from the exertion, but the desperate need inside you was so much stronger. You bounced on Thor’s dick, grabbing at his chest and gasping for air as his sheer size split you open over and over again.

Looking down at his bare chest, his defined pecs looked absolutely delicious in the dim light. You had to take a bite, didn't you? Lowering your upper body flat against his chest, you leaned down and bit down on his left breast, hard. Thor groaned loudly, his abs flexing hard beneath you. “What are you—” he gasped.

You didn't answer, simply licking over the damp mark you had just left before kissing over it mindlessly. Pushing yourself back up, your hands found their place on his heaving chest again, meeting his eyes which were burning with an unhinged desire.

But it wasn't enough. You didn't possess the extra stamina or strength of a god, and he was just too big. You were so overwhelmed by pleasure that your body was starting to forget how to move properly. Every wet, obscene sound echoing in the room made you glance down at where he was disappearing inside of you—the way your slick was heavily coating his cock when you pulled up, and the heavy weight of his balls slapping against your ass every time you dropped back down.

You only got hornier, wanting nothing more than to just let go and allow your eyes to cross and toes to curl, but you couldn't find the pace to get over the edge. You couldn't cum. The frustration built up until pathetic, fat tears started streaming down your cheeks.

”Aw, baby, why are you crying?” Thor murmured, his voice laced with a gentle mockery. Fully aware of the fact that you couldn't reach the finish line by yourself, he reached up, brushing your tears away with his thumb while a tiny, knowing smirk played on his lips.

You let out a frustrated sob, shaking violently above him as your legs finally grew too weak to sustain the weight. You collapsed forward, just squirming uselessly against his lap now, blinking through wet lashes at his teasing, lazy smile. “You can't get there all alone, can you?” he purred, gripping your waist tightly and slamming his hips up into you.

You made a choked, high-pitched sound as the sudden force rattled your entire frame. “That's right, pretty girl. Just a total mess on my cock."

“Ple—please—“ you blubbered, completely spent, your upper body collapsing weakly over Thor’s broad chest. “God, Thor—please—“

“Aw. Begging so pretty.” He leaned up and pressed a tender, lingering kiss to your wet forehead. “How could I ever say no to you, huh?”

Without another word, Thor gripped your hips and effortlessly lifted you off his cock, twisting you onto your back as he sat up. You were shoved down into the mattress, your head pressed deeply into the cushions. His massive hands locked onto your hips, dragging you down the bed toward him, completely manhandling you. His right hand moved to the inside of your left thigh, pushing it wide open to expose your dripping core to the cool air of the room.

“Such a mess,” Thor rumbled, his eyes dark as he ran the thick head of his cock between the lips of your pussy, letting it press heavily against your swollen clit before lining it right back up at your entrance.

He slid in slowly, filling you back up until your eyes rolled back in your head. Bringing his upper body over yours, his left hand found your right leg, pushing it all the way up to your chest. He was impossibly deeper at this angle, stretching you to your absolute limits.

You tried to press your hand over your mouth to muffle your pathetic, undone sounds, but Thor tutted softly. With his left hand, he firmly wrapped his fingers around your wrist and pulled your hand away, pinning it to the mattress. He bottomed out completely, a deep groan ripping from his chest as he bit your earlobe.

His hand found its way to your thigh and kept your legs pinned high next to your breasts as he began to move, his brutal, unyielding pace making you instantly see stars. Every heavy thrust sent a shockwave through your body, your hips bouncing uncontrollably against the mattress.

Thor moved his head back just a little, looking down at where your bodies joined, and grunted in deep, possessive approval. He caught your jaw in his hand, his fingers anchoring you as he fucked you hard. “Want to see how good we fit, pretty girl?”

You couldn't even catch a goddamn breath, but you nodded frantically. He let go of your jaw, sliding his hand to the back of your head and gently forcing you to look down at your own lap.

It was sinful. So fucking sinful. A white, creamy ring was forming around his shaft as he ruthlessly fucked into you, and he was so goddamn right—you fit together like perfect puzzle pieces. With every single downward stroke, his heavy pelvis hit directly against your engorged, sensitive clit.

You moaned loudly, your eyebrows knitting together in pure pleasure as the visual pushed you right over the edge unexpectedly. You screamed his name as he let go of your head, his thumb brushing over your trembling lips. He didn't stop, keeping up the relentless, pounding pace, grunting your name over and over against your neck.

“Came after just a few seconds of me fucking you?” he mocked breathlessly, but he was in no better shape than you were. He looked completely disheveled, his hair wild, his jaw locked in a tight line of restraint.

He pushed his damp thumb directly into your mouth, and you blindly suckled on it, wrapping your tongue around his skin.

“Fuck,” he grunted, his blue eyes blowing wide as he finally lost his grip on his godly stamina. His hips gave one last, deep, trembling shove, pinning you flat to the bed as he came, throwing thick, hot ropes of cum deep inside you, filling you to the absolute brim. —

“Are you okay?” he whispered, his lips brushing tenderly against your knuckles.

You were having a near-impossible time keeping your eyes open, the aftershocks of the last hour leaving your limbs feeling like heavy lead, but you managed to nod lazily and offer him a soft, sleepy smile.

Thor took your hand, bringing it up to rest against his bare chest. You frowned, your brow furrowing in confusion. “What’re you doin’?” you mumbled, your exhaustion making your words barely intelligible, slurring together into a sleepy hum.

“Have to take care of you, baby,” he said, his voice so gentle it made your heart ache. He didn't wait for an answer, simply scooping you up into his arms, bridal style. Your arms instinctively circled around his thick neck, and you rested your heavy head against his shoulder as he carried you into the bathroom.

After he helped you clean up with a patience that was entirely uncharacteristic of the man you’d known for years, he carried you back to the bed. He kissed your forehead with lingering reverence as he laid you down, then slid under the covers next to you, pulling you into his embrace until your head was pillowed firmly against his chest.

His heart was beating like a war drum against your ear, his large fingers trembling slightly as he pulled the thin, cool sheets up to tuck you in. He stared at the ceiling, lost in the terrifying shift in his own reality.

Why was he feeling like this? What had happened to the cold, arrogant dynamic you two had shared for so long? The question burned in his mind, sharp and insistent: Did you feel the same?

Unable to hold the mounting anxiety back, he mumbled, “Do you hate me?”

The question came out before he could stop it, brittle and desperate. You stiffened slightly against him, your eyes fluttering open for a brief moment. “I never hated you.”

He hummed, a low vibration in his chest. “Hm.” He shifted, his hand moving to smooth a lock of hair away from your face. “Let me phrase it like this then... do you dislike me still?”

You smiled a little bit, your face scrunching up as you looked up at him hazily, your consciousness drifting further away. You were too exhausted to put up your usual defenses, and you told him half the truth.

“Not so much.”

You leaned forward and kissed his chest without thinking, the action small and intimate, before laying your head back down. His fastened heartbeat drummed in your ears, a frantic, steady rhythm that matched your own.

Thor felt his heart give out as he finally understood what he was feeling.

He was in love with you.

He had been for years, and he was absolutely, completely doomed.

—

You woke up, breathing in deeply as you opened your eyes and stretched your arms. Your eyes widened instantly as the vivid rush of last night’s endeavors hit you.

You slept with Thor.

You quickly looked next to you, your heart ready to leap with hopeful excitement, only to see a completely empty bed. Your heart dropped straight to your stomach. A cold, suffocating weight pressed down on your chest.

Where was he? Did he regret it that much? Did he wake up, realized what he had done with someone as broken as you, and left you all alone the first thing in the morning?

Your hands and feet went completely ice-cold. Your eyes tore up, your nose burning and your throat tightening painfully with incoming tears. Regret. It was the only word screaming in your mind.

You scrambled to your feet, desperately trying to swallow down the sob threatening to break out. Moving on pure autopilot, you quickly started getting ready for breakfast, needing a mask to hide behind. Your hands shook violently as you removed the mascara stains from your cheeks and quickly applied your sunscreen. You pulled on a black strapless summer dress with vibrant pink flowers—it hugged your torso tightly before flaring out beautifully from the waist down. You placed a long-brimmed black summer hat over your hair and slid into black kitten heels. Taking a shaky, shallow breath, you made your way down to the resort’s breakfast area.

The moment you stepped into the restaurant, your blood ran cold. You did not like what you were witnessing. At all.

Thor was there, standing by the open buffet, but he wasn’t alone. There she was—the receptionist girl who had been entirely too into your so-called husband since you arrived. Her hand was resting boldly on his right bicep while he looked down at her, his head turned toward her as he smiled lightly. She was actively flirting with him, and he wasn’t pulling back. Not even after everything he had whispered to you last night. What the hell was a receptionist doing there in the first place?

A dangerous rage built inside you, jealousy brewing hot and toxic, completely melting your insides. You couldn’t help it. Even if Thor didn't want you anymore, even if last night meant nothing to him, nobody was allowed to touch him like that as long as he was playing your husband.

You made your way toward them in fast, sharp strides, the click of your kitten heels masked by the ambient chatter. You stopped directly behind the girl, your index finger tapping her shoulder with an icy firmness.

She quickly turned around, a bright, rehearsed smile on her face, but that smile instantly died the second she registered who was standing there. She was much shorter than you; from beneath the brim of your hat, you were looking down at her with pure, unyielding disdain. A wicked, lethal smile played on your lips—a look that silently screamed, 'You are going to die in ten seconds, and not even the God of Thunder can save you from your demise.'

“My love, you’re awake!” Thor boomed, his face lit up with an instant, radiant brightness the very millisecond his eyes landed on you. You flicked your gaze to him, your chest tight. What a spectacular actor, you thought bitterly.

You looked straight back at the girl. Thor’s eyebrows quickly knitted together as he registered the tension radiating from your posture. “I was just on my way to bring you breakfast—”

“Were you now?” you cut him off, your voice dangerously low, though your eyes never left the receptionist. She was already squirming and trembling under your icy glare.

“I was just—” she stammered, backing up half a step. “You were just leaving,” you cut her off ruthlessly. Then, completely unable to hold yourself back through the blinding haze of your jealousy, you coldly added, “My husband does not have a taste for servants, you know?”

Thor’s eyes widened in sheer shock. You had done the exact one thing you had warned him not to do—you had ignored manners and called her a servant.

The girl nodded frantically, her eyes wide with fear, and immediately scrambled away from Thor, nearly tripping over her own feet to escape you.

The moment she was gone, you turned away from him without giving him a second look. “Baby—” Thor started, his hand reaching out.

“Do not baby me,” you snapped, turning your head back sharply, your eyes flashing with a profound, unyielding coldness that made him freeze.

Thor’s heart dropped straight to his stomach. The sudden, icy wall you had thrown up slapper him in the face so hard he felt your finger prints on his cheek. Did you regret it? Was that what this was? Did you wake up wishing last night had never happened?

“What is going on?” he asked, his voice losing its booming confidence, an edge of panic bleeding through.

You scoffed loudly, completely ignoring his question as you moved toward the stack of plates to grab your own food. You weren't going to stand there and look pathetic. Thor quickly followed on your heels, his massive frame completely blocking out the rest of the crowded restaurant as you aggressively snatched a ceramic plate from the stack. The weight of it felt solid in your shaking fingers—a grounding contrast to the chaos roaring inside your head. He didn't care that there were other guests around; his focus was entirely locked onto you.

“Talk to me, please,” he begged again, his deep voice dropping into a whispered, desperate pitch that only you could hear. “What did I do? Why are you looking at me like that?”

You moved down the line of the open buffet, your eyes fixed forward, your jaw locked tight under the long brim of your black summer hat. You didn't even see the food.

“I look at you exactly how I should look at a partner who fails to maintain the perimeter of our cover,” you whispered coldly, your tone clipped and professional—the ultimate shield to protect your bleeding heart. “We are supposed to be happily married, Thor. Yet I walk into the dining room and find you letting the resort staff treat your bicep like a resting post. It’s sloppy. It risks the mission.”

“The mission?” Thor repeated, and you heard the sharp, pained intake of his breath. He stepped in front of you, completely cutting off your path to the pastry section, forcing you to stop. When you tried to look past him, he leaned down into your line of sight, his blue eyes wide and panicked. “You think I care about the cover right now? Honey, look at me.”

The nickname was a mocking echo of the tenderness from last night. Your eyes snapped up to his, flashing with a dangerous, icy heat. “Do not call me that.”

He felt entirely hopeless, his blue eyes burning with a raw, suffocating pain the more you talked. “Last night—“

“Let's not bring up last night. Ever,” you said, sharply turning your head away from him. You were desperate to protect your heart, to pull the shields up before he could break you completely by saying how much he regretted it.

“What?” he asked, his voice entirely breathless. His lungs felt as though they were constricting in on themselves, a pain burning him from the inside out.

But you didn't answer., you just kept walking, your hands trembling so hard that the ceramic plate in your hands shaked in your grasp. You tried to swallow the thick lump of emotion stuck in your throat, but it wouldn't budge. You loved him, and he regretted you. That was the only reality your brain could process.

You had effectively carved his heart out of his chest and stepped on it with the sharp heel of your shoes, leaving his poor heart to bleed out on the cold floor while you kept thumping it with your foot over and over again. Thor’s head was thumping, his chest feeling completely hollow as he stood frozen, looking at your retreating back. To him, the message was loud and clear: you regretted everything you had given him, while he was deeply, hopelessly in love with you.

The rest of the breakfast passed by in a torturously. You didn't speak a single word to him, and he didn't dare speak to you, far too heartbroken to even think of where to begin mending the fracture. You both just sat there at the table in a heavy, complete silence. Thor spent the entire time staring down at his large, empty hands, while you kept your eyes rigidly fixed on your plate.

After breakfast, you returned to the villa to change for the pool, pulling on a black bikini and a sheer black beach dress. You kept the long-brimmed hat firmly on your head, using it as a barrier to keep yourself from looking at him, and to keep him from looking at you to see your pained expression.

Once down at the resort pool, you settled onto your sunbed for a second before immediately scrambling away to the water, needing to escape his suffocating proximity. Your body tensed up at the first splash, but slowly relaxed as your skin got used to the cold.

It's okay, your mind echoed in a desperate chant, trying to soothe your aching heart. You already got the codes. You can get this entire mission over with tonight, and then you won't ever have to sleep in the same room with him again.

From his sunbed, Thor was watching you like a hawk. He lay there with his massive arms crossed behind his head, his jaw locked so tight the muscles in his cheek flexed repeatedly. His hands were formed into rigid fists, the static electricity in his veins making the air around his chair turn faintly heavy.

Then, the tense silence was abruptly interrupted by a woman's voice coming from next to him. “Hello there, handsome.” She was sitting on a sunbed just one row away, looking to be in her late forties with short, styled blonde hair and a sly, predatory smirk on her face.

Thor didn't even turn his torso. He just spared a brief, icy sideway glance at her before immediately snapping his eyes back to the water, tracking your swimming. “Why are you all alone?” she purred, leaning forward to get his attention. “Your spouse left you to fend for yourself like mine did?” Thor finally turned his head fully away from the pool for a brief second. “I am completely fine. Thank you for your concerns, lady,” he grumbled clearly irritated, his baritone rough and entirely uninviting.

He dismissed her instantly, turning back to look toward the deep end of the pool—only to find you staring straight back at him with a lethal, blinding fire burning hot in your eyes.

He gulped, his breath taken away.

—

After your day in the pool ended and you were back in your villa, the silence between you had grown so heavier. You finally broke it, “I am going to secure the tech tonight.” Thor's back visibly stiffened at the sound of your voice. He turned to face you slowly, his blue eyes guarded. “What do you need me to do?” he asked, his voice rough and gravelly.

You gulped, forcing your professional mask back into place. “Distract Alejandro in the VIP section while I slip away. I'll pretend to go to the bathroom, access the private vault down the hall, and once I have the drive, I'll signal you through the comms so we can leave.” He nodded briefly, his jaw flexing. “Okay,” he whispered.

The process of getting ready was done in a tense, rhythmic quiet. Thor threw on a black linen shirt and charcoal linen pants, looking effortlessly devastating. You opted for a flowy, lightweight black dress that gave you maximum mobility, pairing it with flat, elegant leather sandals—you needed to be comfortable and silent on your feet tonight.

You headed down to dinner, the atmosphere of the resort's high-end restaurant buzzing around you while you sat like ghosts. You tried to eat whatever your stomach would allow, but you had absolutely no appetite after the events of the day. Every time your eyes accidentally met his, you both looked away, shielding your wounds. Once dinner was cleared, it was time. You made your way toward the exclusive VIP lounge, immediately spotting Alejandro lounging in a velvet booth surrounded by bodyguards. You and Thor exchanged a quick, imperceptible glance, checked the small clicks of your earpieces, and nodded.

Alejandro boomed with laughter the moment he saw you approach. “My friends! Welcome, welcome!” he cried, throwing his arms wide open in his usual boisterous display.

You both forced tight, practiced smiles onto your faces. Thor stepped forward, giving the man a brief, friendly hug before turning toward the booth to sit down. Before you could even slide onto the leather cushion next to him, Thor’s large hand securely gripped your waist. Your heart instantly went completely haywire as he effortlessly lifted you and pulled you right down onto his lap.

You two had been distant all day. He had to hold you. He needed to make amends, to feel the heat of your skin against his, even if it was just under the guise of the mission. At least, that was the only excuse his desperate mind could construct if you angrly yelled at him about it later.

You smiled tightly for Alejandro's benefit, but your fingers dug with an icy, warning firmness into the back of Thor's thick neck—a silent, furious message for him to let go. But Thor didn't care. He didn't care about the silent threat as long as he got to hold you in his arms for just a second longer before this mission ended and you went back to the compound to avoid him forever. He simply tightened his grip, pulling you flush against his chest, and smiled widely at Alejandro.

Alejandro chuckled deeply at the display of affection. “Always passionate, I see.”

You turned a sickly sweet smile toward the arms dealer, leaning into the cover. “Always,” you cooed, before casually looking around the lounge. “Where is Valentin tonight?” You instantly felt Thor's fingers dig sharply into your waist, his grip turning possessive at the mention of the man he had been burning with jealousy over. Alejandro made a dismissive, ‘don't care’ gesture with his hand. “Ah, he claims he is sick. Staying in his villa tonight.”

“Oh, poor guy,” you purred, feigning deep sympathy. “I hope he gets better soon.” Thor’s fingers dug even deeper into your hip bone, a silent, growling protest that you had to actively ignore.

You endured another twenty minutes of Alejandro’s endless boasting, monitoring the guard rotation out of the corner of your eye. Finally, the hallway leading to the back offices cleared. You lightly tapped Thor’s broad shoulder, signaling him that it was time. "I need to go to the restroom, honey," you said loudly enough for the table to hear, sliding off his lap.

He didn't protest, maintaining his role, but his blue eyes burned holes straight through your frame as you walked away. The moment you turned the corner out of the lounge's line of sight, the sweet smile vanished from your face. Your heart rate spiked, breathing sharpening as you slipped into the dim, restricted corridor. Using the digital master key you had covertly cloned from the resort's mainframe, you bypassed the electronic lock on Alejandro's private office in three seconds flat. The door clicked open with a faint hiss. You slipped inside, closing it silently behind you.

The room was dark, illuminated only by the ambient glow of the resort's outdoor lights filtering through the blinds. You moved like a shadow across the plush carpet, heading straight for the ornate bookshelf on the far wall. Pressing the hidden release mechanism behind a heavy brass statue, the wall ground open to reveal a reinforced titanium safe. Your fingers flew across the keypad, inputting the encryption codes you had painfully secured earlier in the week. BEEP. The safe's heavy bolts retracted. You quickly dismanntled the failsafe and looked inside the safe.

There, resting on a velvet cushion, was a glowing, intricately carved container pulsing with a faint, dark energy—the stolen Dark Elf convergence technology. Beside it lay the encrypted flash drive containing the buyers' manifests. Your breath hitched. This was it. The culmination of hours of putting up with Thor, hours of hiding your heart, hours of surviving. You carefully wrapped the artifact in a specialized containment cloth to mask its energy signature, slipping it and the drive into the secure inner pocket of your dress.

You locked the safe, closed the hidden door, and stepped back out into the hallway, your heart hammering against your ribs. Pressing your finger to your earpiece, “Package secured. Perimeter clear. Let's mo—“ you were cut off as a heavy, sweating hand clamped brutally over your mouth from behind, and the cold steel of a gun barrel pressed hard into the side of your head. Fuck.

Back in the VIP lounge, Thor’s earpiece crackled with your voice. The sound instantly soothed his aching heart, but the relief didn't last long. You were cut off mid-word, your voice muffled into a sharp static gasp. His heart dropped straight to his stomach, cold dread instantly replacing his focus. What the fuck?

He smoothly stood up, cutting Alejandro off mid-sentence with a firm, booming laugh as he patted the man's shoulder, masking the terror roaring in his veins. "It has been an absolute pleasure, Alejandro, but my wife has been feeling quite fatigued from our travels. I must take her back to our quarters," Thor said, his tone leaving absolutely no room for argument. Before Alejandro could even protest, Thor was already walking away, his long strides carrying him down the corridor. “Little Flame? What is happening?” he whispered franticallyy into his comms, his hands trembling with a mix of fear and rising fury.

You didn't respond. The silence on the other end drove him to the edge. The second he stepped into the shadow of the back hallway, out of sight of the guests, he raised his hand. With a crackle, Stormbreaker materialized into his grip, the blue sparks already dancing along the heavy blade.

“So you were here to get to this, all along?” came Valentin's sharp, bitter voice from behind you. Thor's voice crackled instantly in your ear, low and lethal. “Is it him?” Bound by the hand over your mouth, you could only press a tight, affirmative hum into the microphone.

Valentin spoke again, his grip tightening. "The only reason why you were interested in me?" He sounded entirely wrecked, like he couldn't believe his own ego had been brokenby a spy. You gulped, trying to calculate your leverage. Sensing your shift, he cautiously removed his hand from your mouth to let you speak, keeping the gun digging into your temple. “Valentin, calm dow—“ CRACK. He ruthlessly smacked the heavy side of the gun against the side of your head. The force made your head snap to the side, a low, painful grunt ripping from your throat as your vision blurred for a split second. This motherfucker.

“Did he just fucking hit you?” came Thor's roaring voice through the comms, the nger in his tone vibrating so hard it rattled your earpiece. You quickly let out another hum, trying to mask it as a groan of lingering pain so that Valentin wouldn't realize you were on an active channel. “Are you still in the same spot?” Thor demanded, his footsteps shaking the building as he sprinted toward your coordinates. This fucker had absolutely no chance. He was dying tonight.

You hummed again in confirmation, which only served to irritate Valentin further. He grabbed your chin, turning your face toward him, forcing you to look into his wild, unhinged eyes. A crazy, desperate smile spread across his face. “I think you should give me a kiss before you go,” he whispered darkly. He closed his eyes, leaning his face directly into yours. Big mistake.

The second his eyes shut, your training took over. You threw your head back, violently slamming the crown of your skull against his nose. He staggered back with a curse, and you used the momentum to drive a sharp elbow directly into his ribs, successfully hitting the gun away from your head. You spun, sweeping your leg out to take his ankles, but Valentin was fueled by pure adrenaline; he managed to catch his balance, his face twisting in fury as he lunged forward. He slammed you back against the wall, his hand locking tightly around your neck, and pointed the gun straight at your head from the front, yelling directly into your face.

But before he could even pull the trigger—before he could do anything at all—the gun in his hand was struck by a massive, flying axe. Stormbreaker sheared the weapon completely in half, embedding itself deep into the wall with a deafening thud. “I told you to stay away from her, did I not?”

And then came hell. Thor burst through the doorway, a literal storm rolling in behind him. He didn't even use his weapon. He descended on Valentin like an enraged deity, reaching out and grabbing the man by the collar of his expensive suit. “No—“ Valentin scrambled, his face draining of all color as he looked up into the face of a god.

“You hit her, and you tried to kiss her?” Thor rumbled, his voice shaking the light fixtures above. “You are in big trouble, boy.”

With a display of raw strength, Thor hoisted him completely off the floor and slammed him ruthlessly against the concrete wall. Thor's eyes completely turned into a blinding, static blue, the white-hot electricity arcing across his shoulders and down his arms. Valentin desperately pleaded for his life, gasping for air, but Thor was entirely deaf to it.

You slid down to the floor, clutching your throbbing head, watching the entire scene unfold in awe. Thor grabbed Valentin by the neck, lifting him higher, and delivered two brutal, bone-crushing punches straight to his jaw. Then, with a dark, final grunt of fury, he let the lightning loose. A massive burst of pure electricity fried Valentin instantly, dropping his lifeless body to the floor in a smoking heap. Oops.

The room went quiet, save for the faint hum of residual static. Thor immediately spun around, the terrifying god of war instantly vanishing the moment his eyes landed on you. He rushed to his knees at your side, his large hand gently but firmly holding your jaw, tilting your head up to assess the dark bruising swelling near your temple.

You tried to pull away slightly, the intensity of his focus making your chest tighten. “I'm fine,” you muttered. But your heart was beating erratically in your chest, completely overwhelmed by the unhinged protectiveness he had just shown. He had literally killed a man for putting a hand on you. He was fussing over you like you were the most precious thing in the universe. Was he really the same guy you thought regretted everything this morning?

Seeing the deep, pained expression of guilt and fear swirling in his blue eyes, you let out a soft sigh, your voice softening. “I heal fast, remember?” Thor cleared his throat, his thumb lingering against your jaw for one more second before he reluctantly nodded and let you go.

He helped you up and you both quickly slipped out of the room, heading out into the humid night air. You sprinted back to the villa, throwing your clothes into your luggage in a silent rush, before moving stealthily toward the designated extraction point in the cliffs. Once outside in the dark, Thor held Stormbreaker high into the sky, the Bifrost roaring down in a blinding beam of rainbow light, swallowing you both whole.

—

It has been two days since you came back, and you and Thor were completely ignoring each other. It was obvious to everyone else in the compound; it was the exact polar opposite of what you guys were always like. Normally, you kept riling each other up because you secretly loved it. You yelled at each other, threatened each other daily, but you were always together, attached at the hip like some dysfunctional shadow.

Now? He let you have your morning coffee without a single fuss. You let him be whenever he talked like the booming Asgardian he is, not even bothering to roll your eyes. You weren't even in the same room unless it was absolutely necessary to begin with; either you or Thor would leave the second the other walked in. It was an undeniable fact that youwere both desperately staying away from each other.

And you missed him. You missed the way he riled you up, missed the way he smiled down at you with that smug but inexplicably sweet expression on his face... you missed him so much it hurt your very soul. Natasha had quietly asked about it, Tony made a few mocking jokes, Steve only silently analyzed you two with a furrowed brow, and Scott? Well, Scott wasn't really aware of anything going on. But Rocket had literally yelled, “Why the hell are you two not fighting?!” at the both of you in the kitchen yesterday. You had only turned and left the room without a word, while Thor merely grunted, staring miserably into his mug as he sipped his coffee.

You had mandatory team training today. Eager to avoid any confrontation, you woke up at 5:00 AM just to have your coffee and breakfast completely away from him and everyone else, before retreating straight back to your room to get ready into your tight, black gear.

Thor woke up a few hours later and had his coffee as usual, but it felt entirely tasteless without the usual, fiery fight he had with you over who got to pour the first cup. Fuck, he missed you. He missed you so much he felt it aching deep in his bones, his heart, his lungs—everywhere. He hated this distance. He hated the silence.

He quickly made his way down to the training area, his intense blue eyes scanning the perimeter the second he stepped foot on the grass, instantly searching for you. And there you were near the equipment mats, talking to Steve with a quiet familiarity, just like you had been doing for the last two days. The sight of you leaning in slightly to hear what the captain was saying made rage build inside Thor's chest. The static in his veins flared, his jaw locking hard as his fists clenched at his sides.

It cannot be, his mind echoed fiercely, a desperate attempt to talk himself down. You are getting jealous over nothing. He is merely her teammate. But as he watched Steve laugh at something you said, Thor's chest hollowed out with that same burning, possessive fire that had consumed him before. He turned his head away, staring out across the vast, sun-drenched gardens of the compound, trying to force his breathing to steady. He was clearly out of his mind. He was a god, for kingdoms' sake, yet he was ready to throw down with the Captain over a simple conversation.

Meanwhile, out on the grass near the training mats, you and Steve were actually talking about the exact elephant in the room. “Tell me, doll, what happened with you two?” Steve asked, his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze shifting between you and the brooding god standing fifty yards away by the glass doors. “Nothing” you said immediately, adjusting the tracking straps on your wrists, trying to deflect. “It's obvious, you know? Don't bother lying.” Steve’s voice was gentle, but persistent.

You looked down at your combat boots, the weight of the secret pressing too heavily on your chest. Looking around to ensure no one else was in earshot, you finally whispered, “We slept together, Steve.” Steve's eyebrows furrowed in deep, pure confusion. “Okay... I know you don't exactly like the guy, but sleeping in the same bed couldn't have caused this much of a disaster—“ You snapped your head up and rolled your eyes, letting out a heavy sigh. Idiots. The whole lot of them were pure idiots. “Steve. Not like that,” you said, slapping your hand against your forehead. He had completely dismissed the actual option because his straight-laced brain simply couldn't believe it.

“What do you mean?” he asked again, completely lost.

You huffed, crossing your arms tightly. “We had sex.”

Steve’s eyes widened to the size of saucers, his arms instantly uncrossing as his brain short-circuited. “You—“ he pointed a finger at you, then pointed vaguely in Thor's direction. “Thor—“ he stammered, blubbering out in total confusion, it was very uncharacteristic of him you admit.

“Yes,” you cut him off, wanting to get the bandage ripped off. “And he regrets it, but me? I'm completely in love with him. Yay!” you said sarcastically, clapping your hands together in a mocking, bitter celebration.

Steve stood there in pure shock. You had never seen the Captain America look so entirely stunned, but then, something passed through his eyes. It was like a veil had been lifted, an entire timeline of events rewriting itself in his mind. “That's why you guys were always together,” he said, realization dawning on him. “You two are completely in love—“

“Whoa! Hold your horses,” you interrupted, your face heating up under the morning sun. “I am the one who's in love. Not him. He couldn't wait to escape the bed the next morning—“

“He is definitely in love with you—“ Steve started to counter, his voice laced with the certainty of a man who had been watching Thor pine from the sidelines for years. But whatever wisdom he was about to drop was loudly cut off by Tony’s voice echoing across the lawn through a megaphone. “We're all here, folks, let's get started! Cap, stop flirting with Shadow, goldilocks looks like he's about to blast you with lightning!” Tony yelled, gesturing toward the center of the field.

You stiffened, your eyes instinctively darting over to Thor, who was already marching onto the grass, his expression promising devastation for whoever had to spar with him today.

Your heart fastened at the sight of him, your eyes darting over his heavy frame, completely unable to control the sudden spike in your pulse. Steve grumbled something under his breath about Tony being incredibly annoying as he stood up and offered you a hand. You took his hand and got up, brushing the grass off your tight athletic pants.

Suddenly, a faint rumble of thunder vibrated through the ground. You paused, your eyebrows furrowing as you looked up at the sky, only to see bright, uninterrupted sunshine. Your eyebrows furrowed deeper. Okay... were you actually going insane?

“Did you hear that?” Steve asked quietly, looking over at you. You nodded, relieved that you weren't the only one losing your mind. But then Steve’s lips twitched into a knowing, subtle smirk. “Not in love with you, you said?” he murmured, giving you a pointed look before he turned and walked toward the center of the lawn.

You stood frozen in place for two more seconds, processing his words, before forcing your feet to move toward the rest of the team. Thor, Steve, Tony, Bruce, Scott, Nat, Clint, and even Rocket—everyone was gathered on the grass.

“Alright, listen up, children,” Tony announced, clapping his hands together. “Today we're doing partner drills. Mixed combat.” Rocket immediately hopped forward, pointing a tiny, clawed finger at you. “Pair me with Shadow! I wanna be her badass partner!”

“Why does this bunny keep yelling?” Tony muttered, rubbing his temples before looking down at the raccoon and pointing a dramatic finger across the yard. “No! Look at pointbreak over there!” He gestured toward Thor, who was standing like a dark, towering statue of menace, the grass practically singeing beneath his boots. “He's going to be her partner or we're all getting barbecued today!”

Your expression soured instantly. Okay, what the hell? Did everyone switch sides? Tony knew Thor despised you so why would he try to pair you up with him? Rocket turned his head to look at Thor, blinked at the glare the god was throwing his way, and made a startled, defensive expression. “Okay, yeah, you're right.” But then Rocket snapped his head back to Tony, baring his teeth. “I'm not a fucking bunny!”

Steve immediately interrupted, his captain instincts kicking in. “Rocket, language!” You rolled your eyes heavily. “Really, Steve?”

“Grandpa,” Tony muttered in agreement, rolling his eyes. “Alright, let's start.”

Your partner was Thor, as Tony had so graciously assigned, and standing across from you on the mats was Steve paired up with Bruce. The strategy was obvious—Bruce was meant to keep Thor occupied. The second the starting signal was given, Hulk lunged straight at Thor.

While Thor was engaged, his massive fists trading heavy blows with the green giant, he kept looking sideways at you. He was completely distracted by how easily you and Steve had slid into perfect synchronization. His blood burned hot in his veins. Focus, his mind echoed fiercely, but every time he saw Steve catch your arm to fling you into a high kick, his vision swam with red. With a roar of frustration, Thor drove a massive punch straight into the Hulk's jaw, sending the massive beast stumbling back a few heavy steps.

Meanwhile, you and Steve were moving seamlessly. You ducked low under Steve's arm, using his shoulder as leverage to drive a brutal spin-kick directly into his abdomen but he caught your foot smiling at you. You retreated yoou foot, vaulted off the ground, twisting mid-air to deliver a kick. But something that shouldn't have happened, happened. As you came down, Steve extended a hand, catching you firmly by the waist to stabilize your landing.

The moment Steve’s hands locked onto your waist, the sky changed. Thick, dark storm clouds suddenly swirled over the compound out of nowhere, completely blocking the sun in a matter of seconds. A massive, deafening rumble of thunder crashed directly overhead, accompanied by a simple, gravelly growl, “No.”

You blinked, looking over just in time to see Thor completely abandon his fight with the Hulk, turning his back on the training exercise entirely as he marched straight toward you.

“No,” he simply repeated, his face a mask of pure fury. Before you or Steve could even register what was happening, Thor reached out, his hands wrapping around your upper arms, and yanked you away from Steve, pulling you flush against his chest.

Your eyes narrowed into lethal slits, the physical contact setting your nerves on fire. “What the hell do you think you're doing?”

“I am removing you from Steve's arms,” he stated matter-of-factly, his chest heaving heavily against your back, his deep voice carrying a possessive finality.

Every single eye on the field was instantly focused on the two of you. The entire team stood frozen in pure shock—except for Steve. Steve would have been shocked too, if he hadn't just heard your confession three minutes prior.

“Thor, calm down,” Steve said evenly, raising his hands in a placating gesture.

But Thor snapped his head up, his blue eyes blazing with static electricity. “Do not talk, Steve,” he threatened, a rumble vibrating from his throat. Absolute displeasure and violence radiated off his massive frame.

“Don't,” you hissed, struggling fiercely against his iron grip, trying to wrench your arms free. “Don't you dare try to act all possessive now, when you are the one who regrets everything—“

“Regret?” Thor asked, the word cutting through his anger as he stopped, staring down at you. “Me?”

Then, to your utter fury, he let out a dark, breathless chuckle. “You are a hypocrite, Little Flame.”

Natasha took one look at the amount of tension and immediately turned to the rest of the team. “I think we should give them space.” Tony didn't even glance away, his eyes wide as he actively enjoyed the spectacle. It was like he was watching his absolute favorite primetime drama play out live. “Why? We're all outdoors. Shouldn't they be the ones to go inside for privac—“

“Tony,” Natasha said warning him.

“Okay, alright,” Tony caved, raising his hands.

He and the rest of the team quickly retreated toward the compound, but even Natasha couldn't help herself; the second they got inside, the entire lineup of Avengers pressed themselves against the glass doors, watching the drama unfold through the windows.

“What is that supposed to mean?” You countered fiercely, turning fully in his grip to face him, your chest heaving.

“You are the one who regrets everything! Flirting with Steve the second you came back—“

“Excuse me? We were not flirting!” you yelled back, chuckling in pure, broken frustration as you looked away for a split second before snapping your eyes back to his burning gaze. “We were talking, like friends do! Hold on—you don't get to question me on that, seeing as you were clearly comfortable flirting with her!”

Thor huffed, his eyebrows furrowing in genuine confusion. “Who have I flirted with?!”

“Don't play dumb now, Thor! THE RECEPTIONIST!” you screamed, the weight of the last forty-eight hours finally breaking through your defenses. Tears of hot, angry frustration built up rapidly in your eyes, blurring your vision as your voice cracked. “You left me the second the sun rose! You left the bed completely empty! And then you proceeded to go and flirt with her!”

“I was not flirting with her!” he bellowed, the desperation in his voice cracking through the thunder rolling above. “I woke up early because I wanted to surprise you,” he insisted, completely ignoring the venom dripping from your words. “You were sleeping so deeply... you looked so peaceful, and I did not want to wake you. I went down there specifically to get your favorite fruits and coffee to bring back to our quarters. That girl—she just approached me. I did not even hear a word she said, I swear it to you by the All-Father! I was only thinking of you.”

You scoffed, a broken, trembling sound. “And the smiling?” you challenged, your voice shaking despite your best efforts to keep your shields up. “You looked down at her and smiled, Thor. I saw you.”

He shook his head frantically, “I was smiling because I was happy!” he burst out, his massive chest heaving under his athletic shirt. “I was thinking about how you looked in my arms. I was thinking about what you told me before you slept. I was happy because of you, Little Flame. Not her. Never her.”

You stared up at him, your breath hitching sharply in your throat. He sounded so painfully sincere, so desperately eager to clear his name, but the cold dread of your own insecurities was still screaming in the back of your mind.

“You left the bed empty,” you whispered, your professional facade completely shattering as your voice cracked, exposing the raw, bleeding core of your heart. “You weren't there when I woke up.”

Thor froze. His eyebrows knitted together tightly as the realization of what you had been torturing yourself with finally dawned on his mind. His heart dropped straight to his stomach, a weight crushing him as he realized the terror and abandonment he had accidentally put you through.

“Oh, gods,” he breathed, his fierce, possessive expression melting into pure heartbreak. His voice cracked with emotion. “You thought I regretted it? You thought I left you?”

You looked away, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze. “You—“ You tried to speak, but a small, pathetic sniffle escaped you instead. The sound made Thor take a sharp, painful intake of breath. Moving instantly, his large hand came up, his fingers gently but firmly holding your chin to force your face back up so you had to look at him.

“I do not regret it. I could never regret it,” he said, his blue eyes swimming with a matching pain as he looked down at your tear-stained face.

You sniffled again, looking up at him through wet lashes. Your heart was beating frantically against your ribs, a spark of dangerous, beautiful hope flaring to life in your chest. Taking a breath, you asked something you never, in a million years, thought you would ever ask the arrogant god.

“Do you like me?” you whispered, your small hand coming up to hold the thick wrist of the arm holding your chin.

Thor's face immediately scrunched up into a deeply offended, dismissive expression. “Not so much.”

Your heart instantly dropped straight to your stomach, the rejection freezing your blood. “But you—“

Before you could finish the sentence, Thor reached out and grabbed your cheeks with both of his massive hands, tilting your head up as he brought his mouth down on yours. He kissed you deeply, passionately, a bruising, breathless possession that completely wiped all thoughts from your brain. When he finally pulled back just a fraction, his thumbs wiping the fresh tears from your cheeks, he continued his sentence.

“I do not like you. I am completely and utterly in love with you,” he confessed, the words hitting you right in the center of your chest.

A startled, watery laugh bubbled out of your throat. “You dumbass,” you chuckled, your hands moving to grip his forearms as a massive, radiant smile finally broke across your face. “Why would you word it like that?” Thor didn't care about his poor phrasing; his eyes were boring into yours with an intense, desperate seriousness. “Do you?” he asked, looking down at you with adoration.

“Do I what?”

“Regret it,”

“I don't,” you said, shaking your head without a single second of hesitation. “Why would I, when you are the man I am completely in love with?” you whispered, finally letting the confession pass your lips.

Thor’s blue eyes lit up like a blinding flash of lightning. A breathtaking smile split his handsome face, and without waiting another syllable, he slammed his lips back onto yours, kissing you with a ferocious, joyful hunger.

“I do not know what is wrong with me, Little Flame,” he mumbled against your lips between deep, bruising kisses. “I do not know how I did not realize sooner how pathetically in love I am with you.” His large hands slid down from your face, wrapping firmly around your waist and lifting you slightly off the grass to deepen the kiss, completely forgetting they were standing in the middle of a compound training field.

Inside the building, behind the massive glass doors, the entire lineup of Avengers was pressed flat against the window. Tony was rooted completely in place, his mouth agape, his hands raised in bewilderment. “Are you guys seeing what I am seeing, or am I hallucinating? Is Point break currently kissing Shadow?” Natasha stood next to him, a triumphant, knowing smirk spreading across her lips as she crossed her arms. “About damn time.”

Outside, Thor kept kissing you thoroughly, but suddenly, he pulled his face away by a mere inch. Your eyebrows knitted together in immediate irritation at the loss of contact. “What is it?” You asked. Thor hesitated, his jaw flexing as he muttered just one word, the lingering jealousy still clear in his tone: “Steve?”

You rolled your eyes, letting out a breathless laugh as you locked your hands behind his neck and pulled his head right back down to your lips. “Don't piss me off while I'm kissing you,” you murmured against his mouth.

Thor let out a low, vibrating hum of pure compliance against your lips. “You are right, I’m sorry, I love you,” he mumbled onto your mouth, his grip on your waist tightening as he buried his face back into yours.

—

Masterlist

Taglist: @sinceimetyou @awkwardgiraffe726 @midasgard @mediocre-introvert @gurlidkiread @claytaysversion @landocat

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORK TO BE FED INTO ANY AI BOTS. THIS INCLUDES CHARACTER.AI, JANITOR.AI, ETC. I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORKS TO BE TRANSLATED, REPOSTED, REWORKED IN ANY WAY, SHAPE OR FORM.

[smgespn]

And Then They Were Roommates

Masterlist

Pairing: Thor Odinson X Reader

Summary: You and Thor are hit with the reality of your fathers arranging a union between your houses. By you marrying each other. You could deal with it, until you found out that he has a mortal lover.

Content: Arranged Marriage, Idiots in love, Miscommunication, Jealous thor, Possessive thor, OBSESSED thor, jealous reader, cursing, explicit SMUT at the end (I am so ashamed of myself).

Word Count: 25k

English is my second language please keep that in mind, I’m sorry for the mistakes if there are any💕

Minors Do Not Interact

You sat at the long table, the heavy, stiff silk of your gown beaded with obsidian that caught the torchlight feeling more like a suit of plate than a dress. The Great Hall was a cavern of gold and shadow, the room smelled of roasted meats and the sharp aroma of bitter-sweet mead.

Across from you, Thor was mid-laugh, his voice a boisterous thunder that always seemed to vibrate in your very teeth. He was tearing into a loaf of bread, gesturing wildly toward Loki, who was watching him with a tired look.

“I’m telling you, brother,” Thor boomed, a stray crumb catching in his beard. “The beast didn't even see the hammer until it was—“

“Thor,” Odin’s voice didn't rise, but the entire hall went ghost-silent. The All-Father sat at the head of the table, his one eye fixed on the three of you. Your father sat beside him, his expression unreadable, his fingers tapping a rhythmic, satisfied beat against the wood. “Enough of the war stories. We have a pact to honor.”

You felt a warm, liquid heat spark at your fingertips, a shimmering gold hum beneath the table that mirrored the gilded carvings of the hall. Your father cleared his throat.

“The stars have aligned, and the blood-oath made at your births is ready to be sealed. The union of our houses, the betrothal of the Prince and the Lady of the High House, is to be finalized by the turn of the moon.”

Thor’s hand froze. The bread hit the table with a dull thud. You felt the oxygen leave the room, your gaze snapping from your father to Odin, then to Thor, whose expression shifted from mindless cheer to pure, wide-eyed confusion.

Beside him, Loki’s goblet paused halfway to his lips. His pale eyes widened, darting between the All-Father and the two of you in genuine shock.

“Betrothal?” Thor stammered, his loud bravado vanishing into a stunned silence. “To her? Father, we are—we are barely acquaintances! She spends her time in the library or the gardens weaving spells, and I am in the mud—the battlefield! There is no—“

“Surely this is a misplaced jest, All-Father,” you cut in, your voice tight and sharp as a blade. You gripped the edge of the table so hard the wood groaned. “We have never even had a conversation that didn't end in an argument. We don't even like each other.”

Loki finally set his glass down, his voice uncharacteristically small. “Wait. You truly— you mean this is not a metaphor?”

Odin looked from Thor to you, then to his younger son, a look of displeasure crossing his face. “The scrolls were signed when you were in your cradles. You have no say in this, this wedding will happen.”

“I am not marrying her!” Thor stood up abruptly, his chair scraping harshly against the stone floor. He turned to you “No offense, sunshine.”

Sunshine, your mind echoed without meaning to.

He’s been calling you that since you were little kids.

Then he turned back to his father, “I am the protector of the Nine Realms! I cannot be tied to a woman who is more concerned with the fabric of a dress than the weight of a sword!”

“And I will not be tied to a man who thinks a date involves a wrestling match in the rain!” you snapped back, rising to meet his gaze across the table.

“Silence!” Odin’s Gungnir struck the floor, the vibration rattling the plates. The air in the room grew heavy, the weight of his authority overpowering. He looked at Thor, his gaze turning icy. “You think your worthiness is a permanent thing, son? Before I sent you to Midgard, I whispered a command into the heart of Mjolnir. If you defy the peace of this realm—if you break the oath I made to my oldest ally—the hammer will remember. You will find that it no more deems you worthy, and you shall be a prince with no crown and no weapon.”

Thor blanched, his eyes darting instinctively to Mjolnir resting on the side table.

Odin then turned his gaze to you. Your father leaned forward, “And you, daughter. You enjoy your status? Your magic, your influence, your life of absolute refinement? Should you refuse this, you will find yourself with nothing. Not a single coin, not a thread of silk, and no name. You will be a commoner in the streets of the lower city by dawn.” he said, his voice threatening.

A heavy, suffocating silence fell over the table. Thor looked at you, his blue eyes wide and horrified, his usual boisterous energy completely drained. You looked back at him, the golden sparks of your magic dying out in the face of such a cold reality.

Oh, fuck.

You looked from Thor’s stunned, bearded face to the All-Father, your chin tilting up with the practiced defiance of a woman who had never been told no.

“If this is truly a matter of blood-oaths and political alliances,” you began, your voice smooth as silk but laced with a spoiled, desperate edge, “surely the house of Odin has more than one option. If I must be tethered to a Prince to keep my inheritance, I’ll trade the hammer for the silver tongue. I’ll take Loki.”

Across the table, Loki paused, a slow, predatory smirk spreading across his thin lips. He leaned back, his eyes dancing with the sheer chaos of the suggestion. “I must say, I am flattered, little bird. Your taste in conversation is clearly improving—“

“No.”

The word was a low growl. Thor’s eyes narrowed, the sapphire blue turning dark as a brewing storm. He stepped forward from where he was standing, his massive hands coming down on the top of the table with enough force to make the wood groan. He effectively erased Loki from the conversation.

“We are to be married then, my lady,” Thor said, his voice dropping into a register that was no longer boisterous, but commanding. He held your gaze, his chest heaving slightly under his leather armor. “Let us accept the hand we have been dealt and not try to change our husbands before the ink is even dry, shall we?”

You let a slow, mocking smile pull at the corners of your mouth. You looked him up and down from his messy half-up hair to his mud-stained boots with a clinical, devastating lack of interest.

“Oh, I didn’t know you were taking a husband too, Thor?” you asked, your voice dripping with faux-innocence. “Who is he? Is he cute? Does he also struggle with the concept of a bath?”

Loki let out a sharp, muffled bark of laughter into his palm, but it was cut short.

“Enough!” Your father’s voice cracked like a whip. He stood, his shadow stretching long and dark across the table. “This is not a negotiation, and it is certainly not a theater for your petulant bickering. You are the future of Asgard, and you will behave as such.”

Odin rose slowly, his presence filling the room until the very air started pressing down on your shoulders. “The healers and the heralds are already preparing. You will have a week to reconcile yourselves to this union. After that, the two of you will be joined, whether you are smiling or screaming.”

“Well,” Loki whispered, leaning back as he processed the disaster. “This is going to be a very long week.”

Thor’s jaw tightened, his eyes never leaving yours. The dorky prince that you’ve grown used to over the years was gone, replaced by a man who looked like he was already calculating the cost of the war he’d just been drafted into. You felt the gold of your magic settle into a cold, hard knot in your stomach.

—

The transition from the gold-leafed tension of the palace to the cool, clinical elegance of your family’s estate was a blur of clicking heels and your anger simmering deep inside you. You didn't wait for the servants to take your cloak; you threw it onto a velvet divan and stormed toward the West Wing, your golden energy trailing behind you like sparks from a dying fire.

You were looking for your mother who wasn’t able to attend the betrayal of a dinner you just came back from, because apparently she was not feeling good.

You found your mother in her private solar, draped in pale silks, the scent of healing herbs and lavender heavy in the air. She looked up from her book, her eyes widening as you burst through the heavy oak doors.

“Did you know of this, Mother?” your voice was a low, dangerous vibration. You stood at the foot of her chaise lounge, your hands trembling with the effort of keeping your magic from shattering the crystals on the side table.

She blinked, a look of genuine confusion softening her features. “The betrothal? Of course, darling. I thought you did too.”

So everyone knew.

Except the two people who should.

She reached out a hand as if to soothe you, but you stepped back, the obsidian beads on your gown clashing like tiny teeth.

“Why else would you have been going to the castle so regularly all this time?” she asked, her voice tilting with a touch of maternal logic that made your blood boil. “The tea with the Queen, the training sessions in the gardens, the dinners... I assumed you were finally making an effort with your future husband.”

You froze, a cold, sharp glare settling on your face. The realization that your regular visits—which you had spent mostly in the library or hiding in the gardens to avoid the very man you were now tied to—had been misinterpreted as courtship made you want to scream.

“Mother, I am friends with Loki, that is why I was visiting.” you said, each word a piece of ice. “I had no idea! Or else I would’ve kept my distance from him! I would have stayed on the furthest moon of the Nine Realms if I knew he was the end goal of my afternoon strolls!”

Your mother sighed, sinking back into her pillows. “Regardless of your intentions, the All-Father has spoken. You have a wedding to prepare for, my darling, and a husband to endure.”

The torture had officially begun.

—

You walked beside your mother, to try on your wedding dress, the heavy hem of your skirts sweeping over the pristine stone path. The morning air in the palace gardens was thick with the scent of blooming Asgardian lilies, but to you, it felt like incense at a funeral.

Behind you, two handmaidens trailed with a hovering casket of lacquered wood—the wedding gown. It was crafted from star-spun silk, a fabric so rare it supposedly held the light of dead suns, structured with reinforced golden stays that felt more like a cage than a bodice.

“You must breathe, darling,” your mother murmured, her hand resting light as a feather on your arm. “The seamstresses have spent years on this piece. It is the pride of our house.”

“It’s a shroud, Mother,” you snapped, your eyes fixed on the horizon. “Just a very expensive one.”

“A bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

The smooth, melodic voice made you stop in your tracks. Loki emerged from behind a marble statue of Borr, a faint, sharp-edged smirk playing on his lips. He fell into step on your other side, his hands folded neatly behind his back.

“I’ve heard of people weeping at weddings, but usually they wait for the vows,” he teased, his green eyes glinting with mischief. “I must say, the doomed bride aesthetic suits your complexion. Very tragic. Very high-court.”

“Careful, Loki,” you countered, not even looking at him. “If I’m truly as tragic as you say, I might just decide to take you down with me. I'm sure there’s a forgotten contract in the archives that could bind you to a frost giantess. I hear the winters there are lovely for your skin.”

Loki let out a short, genuine huff of a laugh, nudging your shoulder with his. “Touché. But truly, the look on his face when he realized he had to trade his tavern brawls for your dinner etiquette? It was surely worth the headache of the announcement.”

You actually felt a genuine smile tug at your lips, a rare spark of joy breaking through the dread. You leaned toward him, lowering your voice. “If he brings a turkey leg to the altar, I am using my magic to turn his cape into a flock of geese. I swear it on the All-Father.”

Loki laughed properly then, the sound echoing through the hall as you transitioned from the gardens into the royal wing.

But the laughter died the moment you rounded the corner.

Thor was standing by a massive bay window, Mjolnir hanging heavy in his grasp. He looked tired, his brow furrowed as he spoke to a guard, but his head snapped toward the sound of your voice instantly. His blue eyes narrowed, darting from your smiling face to Loki’s hand, which was still hovering near your arm. The relaxed, boisterous Prince vanished.

He didn't say a word. He simply began to follow.

Your mother ushered you inside the fitting room, though this was not just any fitting room; it was Queen Frigga's private dressing suite, a circular room bathed in natural light filtering through tall, arched windows that looked out over the Golden City.

Queen Frigga stood near a velvet-covered pedestal, her presence instantly bringing a sense of calm serenity a stark contrast to your own mother’s anxious energy. She was dressed in soft, flowing greens and golds, her hair intricately braided. Beside her, on a high stand, was the other casket—the one holding the ancestral jewelry.

“You look lovely, child,” Frigga murmured, her voice like warm honey as she turned to watch you enter. Her eyes, so similar to Thor’s yet filled with centuries of wisdom, drifted to Loki, who was still smirking beside you. “And Loki, I see you are still finding amusement in your brother’s obligation.”

Loki dropped into a elegant bow, his smirk softening just a fraction. “Only performing my brotherly duty, Mother. Ensuring the bride doesn't run screaming before the I do's.”

“More like ensuring he doesn't,” you muttered, stepping toward the pedestal.

Frigga smiled faintly, motioning for the handmaidens to open the main lacquered casket. “We will have none of that talk today. This dress is a masterpiece, and it is traditional that the Queen Mother sees the bride in her finery before the All-Father, to offer her blessing.”

You felt the heavy, cold whoosh of air as the star-spun silk was lifted. Behind you, the heavy oak doors swung open, catching the light.

Thor stood on the threshold, his presence immediately making the high ceilings feel suffocatingly low. He held Mjolnir loosely in his grip, the smell of a distant storm clinging to him like a second skin. He didn't say a word, his gaze immediately narrowing as he spotted Loki standing next to you.

Every pair of eyebrows in the room shot upward. Your mother gasped, clutching her silks to her chest. Frigga turned, her eyebrows arched slightly. “Thor? What are you doing here? This is not the training yard, nor is it the Great Hall.”

“I am aware, Mother,” Thor said, his voice flat, dangerously devoid of its usual boisterous cheer. He didn't look at his mother; his blue eyes were locked on your back. He walked into the room, pulling a heavy gilded chair from the wall and dropping into it with a dull thud, crossing his massive arms. “I merely wish to ensure my future wife isn’t plotting my demise with my brother under the guise of a fitting. I’ve heard she prefers the so called silver tongue.”

Loki let out a short, sharp bark of laughter into his fist, but Frigga merely sighed, a practiced look of disappointment crossing her features. “Thor. It is the height of ill fortune for the groom to see the bride in her finery before the ceremony. The Norns do not look kindly on broken tradition.”

Thor shrugged, a reckless, tight-lipped gesture. “I have faced the armies of the Dark Elves and many more. I think I can survive a bit of bad luck from a piece of fabric. Besides,” he added, his voice dropping an octave as his gaze fixed on Loki again, “I have no desire to be the last to know anything.”

“I don't need a dress to plot your demise, Thor,” you muttered over your shoulder, refusing to turn and face him as the handmaidens began the grueling process of draping the silk over your frame.

For ten minutes, the only sound in the room was the rustle of priceless fabric, the clink of golden pins, and your mother’s sharp, anxious inhalations. You felt Thor’s gaze like a branding iron on your back—unblinking, focused, stripping away your composure. Loki stood nearby, watching the tension with a dark, satisfied amusement, while Frigga stood by the jewelry stand, her expression a mix of observation and silent concern.

Finally, the stays were tightened, molding the structured silk and chiffon to your body. The high, elegant collar was fastened. The handmaidens stepped back, and you turned slowly to face the wall of mirrors.

The dress was architectural sorcery. The star-spun silk caught the light, shifting from white to a blinding, liquid gold that mirrored the gold magic pulsing at your fingertips. It was structured, rigid, and utterly cold.

You turned slowly to face the room.

Thor had been leaning back in his chair, a bored, defensive, and likely dorky excuse sitting on the tip of his tongue. He was likely prepared to mock the choice of color or the sheer practicality of the train.

But once you stepped into the light, his demeanor changed.

His jaw locked.

The gilded chair groaned as his grip tightened on the armrests, his massive knuckles turning white as snow.

The air in the room suddenly felt thick, the smell of rain faint but unmistakable. He didn't speak nor make a joke. He merely stared at you, his pupils blown wide, trying to make sense of what he was feeling.

The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating.

“Thor?” Frigga whispered, her voice gentle but commanding as she took a step toward her son.

He blinked once, slowly, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. He stood up abruptly, the chair skidding back. “It— it is functional,” he managed, his voice sounding like he’d been swallowing broken glass.He didn't look at you again as he turned for the door. “Try not to trip on the hem, my lady.”

He was out the door before the wood stopped vibrating.

Frigga turned back to you, her expression unreadable, but a faint, knowing light dancing in her wise eyes. “Functional,” she repeated softly, her voice tilting with a silent amusement.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, only one question coming to your mind;

Why is everyone acting so weird?

—

The following evening, the palace gardens were a sea of gold and emerald, the air thick with the scent of night-blooming jasmine and the rhythmic, distant thrum of Asgardian lutes. It was the eve of the wedding—the final celebration of your so called freedom.

You arrived with your parents, your steps measured and precise. Your gown tonight was structured, midnight-toned velvet, the high collar framed by sharp, golden embroidery that caught the torchlight like a warning.

As you rounded the marble fountain, you saw him waiting at the entrance of the garden.

Thor stood tall, draped in his heavy ceremonial armor. The polished silver and deep blues of his chestplate caught the moonlight, but it was the cape that drew the eye—a thick, crimson shroud weighted by a massive mantle of dark fur that sat broad across his shoulders. It made him look twice his size, a looming figure of mythic weight rather than the prince who usually tripped over his own jokes. When his eyes met yours, that strange, dark look from the fitting room flickered for a second before he masked it with a lopsided, defensive grin.

Your mother and father exchanged a pointed, satisfied look, stepping ahead with a synchronized grace that left you and Thor standing alone in the shadow of the archway.

“You look remarkably less like a sun-god today, my lady,” Thor remarked, falling into step beside you. The fur of his mantle brushed against your shoulder—a heavy, soft contact that sent a jolt of irritation through you. “I see you’ve returned to your usual brooding colors.”

“And you look remarkably like someone who hasn't been in a tavern brawl for at least three hours,” you countered, tilting your head to look up at him. “It’s a terrifying look for you, Thor. Almost civilized.”

Thor let out a deep, rolling chuckle, the sound vibrating in the space between you. “I’ll have you know I spent the afternoon in the library. Loki insisted I learn the proper sequence of the ceremonial toasts so I don't humiliate them before the first course.”

“A wise move,” you said, a genuine, sharp smile pulling at your lips. “Though I’m surprised you managed to sit still long enough to read. I thought your attention span was measured in how long it takes to throw a hammer.”

“It's measured in how long it takes to win a fight,” he corrected, his eyes dancing with mischief as he looked down at you. “Currently, I am fighting the urge to rip this fur off and head for the lower city taverns. Would you join me, or are you too refined for cheap ale and loud songs?”

“I would join you,” you said, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “but I suspect my father has guards stationed at every exit specifically to prevent me from escaping your company.”

Thor stopped walking, turning to face you fully, the feel of his presence sharpening in the cool night air.

He looked down at you, his blue eyes searching yours.

“Then your father and I finally agree on something,” he said, his voice dropping into that low, vibrato rumble. “For I have no intention of letting you out of my sight tonight, sunshine. It would be a shame to lose my only source of entertainment before the feast even begins.”

He reached out, his large hand—calloused and warm—hovering near your waist as if to guide you, his fingers ghosting against the velvet of your dress. For a fleeting second, the mockery died in your throat.

You looked up at him, the gold of your magic stirring restlessly beneath your skin, mirroring the heat radiating off him. It was a moment—sharp, silent, and dangerously real.

Then, he blinked, the shadow of a smirk returning to his face. He pulled his hand back to hook it into his belt, the prince mask sliding back into place. “Besides,” he added, “if I let you run now, Loki would never let me hear the end of it. He’s already placed bets on how long it takes for you to hex me at the altar.”

You let out a huff of laughter, the tension breaking as quickly as it had formed. “I hope you bet against him, Thor. I’m planning to wait at least until the first dance.”

You both started walking again, the shared smile lingering just a second too long for two people who supposedly couldn’t stand the sight of each other.

As you reached the heavy arched entrance, the gold of your magic prickled at your fingertips—a warning of the social exhaustion to come.

“Go on, sunshine,” Thor said, gesturing toward the doors with a lazy sweep of his hand, his fur-lined cape swaying with the movement. “I shall find us a place at the table before Loki drinks all the vintage mead.”

“Actually, go ahead without me,” you said, smoothing the velvet of your skirts. “I need to compose myself. I’ll meet you inside.”

“I will wait,” he countered, his voice dropping into that stubborn, protective rumble. He leaned back against the stone pillar, crossing his arms over his chestplate. “The corridors are busy tonight. It wouldn't do for the bride to be lost in the crowd.”

“I am perfectly capable of walking twenty paces alone, Thor. No need, really.”

“I insist,” he said, his eyes glinting with a maddening persistence. “I have nothing but time, and I’ve already memorized the toasts. Go. I’ll be right here.”

You rolled your eyes, letting out a huff of irritation that was only half-real, and ducked into the private chambers nearby.

Inside, the air was cooler, the silence a brief mercy. You leaned over the polished basin, staring at your reflection in the silver-glass mirror. Your makeup was flawless, your eyes sharp, but beneath the mask, your heart was hammering against your ribs.

In less than twenty-four hours, you would be tied to him. To the noise, the ale, the way he called you sunshine, the way his voice sounded when he called you my lady. You took a deep breath, reaching for a silk cloth to blot your skin, trying to summon the icy discipline your father had raised you with.

Then, voices filtered through the heavy oak door from the corridor—the sharp, hushed tones of the palace maids.

“Can you believe the audacity of it?” one whispered, followed by a low, gossiping giggle. “The All-Father forcing a union when the Prince’s heart is still wandering Midgard.”

Your hand froze.

“I heard she was a mortal,” the second one hissed. “A scientist. He was ready to stay there for her. And now he’s out there acting the part of the dutiful fiancé while he probably has a lock of her hair tucked into his armor.”

“A scandal, truly. Imagine being the Lady of the High House and merely being the replacement for a human girl who doesn't even know how to bow.”

The silk cloth in your hand crumpled as a searing heat flared in your chest. A mortal?

You knew they have said that you were promised to each other when you were born, but that did not stop you from thinking that you were being used to cover up the Prince's sentimental mess.

You felt humiliated. Every smile he’d given you in the gardens just now, every lingering look, suddenly felt like a calculated insult.

He was mourning someone else and you were the gilded cage he was being shoved into.

You didn't wait. You shoved the door open with a force that made the hinges groan.

The maids jumped, their faces turning a ghostly white as they saw you standing there, your eyes glowing with a faint, dangerous gold. They didn't even wait for a reprimand; they scrambled, skirts rustling as they scurried down the hall like frightened mice.

You stood there for a moment, your breath coming in sharp hitches, your vision tunneling with rage. Then, you turned the corner.

Thor was exactly where he said he’d be. He was leaning against the pillar, his head tilted back, a small, genuine smile starting to form on his face the moment he spotted you. He looked regal, powerful, and utterly relaxed.

“Ah, there you are, sunshine,” he said, pushing off the wall and taking a step toward you. “I was beginning to think you’d found a secret passage to—“

He stopped. His smile faltered as he took in the rigid line of your shoulders and the cold, murderous fire in your gaze.

“Is something the matter?” he asked, his voice losing its playfulness and sharpening into that all business tone. He reached out as if to steady you, but you flinched back before his hand could even get close.

You brushed past Thor, your shoulder barely grazing the fur of his mantle, refusing to give him even a sliver of eye contact.

“I am absolutely fine,” you said, the lie tasting like iron in your mouth.

Thor didn’t move at first. He stood his ground, his head tilted as his blue eyes fixed on you, scanning your face with an intense look in his eyes that stripped away his usual lightheartedness. He was watching the tension in your jaw and the way your fingers were curled into tight, pale fists, trying to read the sudden shift in the air like a change in the weather.

“I am pretty sure something is wrong,” he said, his voice dropping into a low, authoritative rumble as he began to trail behind you. The heavy thud of his boots on the stone floor sounded like a countdown. “Your magic smells off, sunshine. It didn't smell like that ten minutes ago.”

“Drop it, Thor,” you snapped over your shoulder, not slowing your pace. You could feel the heat of him just inches away, a constant, looming presence that felt like a suffocating weight. “We have a celebration to attend. Do not make a scene.”

He went silent, but you could feel his gaze burning into the back of your neck. He knew the peace had shattered, but with the massive oak doors of the Great Hall swinging open, he was forced to tuck his questions away. He stepped up beside you, his jaw tight, offering his arm with a rigid, formal politeness.

The moment you stepped inside, the roar of the court hit you. Hundreds of Asgardian nobles cheered, their golden goblets raised in a toast to a union built on a secret. You walked to the high table, every step feeling like a march toward a cliffside, and took your seat.

Loki was already there, leaning back in his chair with a predatory grace, swirling a dark, vintage mead in his glass. He didn't even wait for you to settle before he spoke.

“Hello there, little bird,” Loki drawled, his pale eyes flickering between your icy expression and Thor’s uncharacteristic brooding. A slow, mocking smirk stretched across his face. “I see you two are already attached at the hip. Tell me, brother, did you have to drag her here, or did she finally realize that fleeing is a bit difficult in those shoes?”

At the mention of the nickname, Thor’s jaw visibly tightened, a muscle feathering in his cheek. He sat down heavily, the fur of his cape spilling over the side of the gilded chair like a dark cloud.

“Do not call her that, Loki,” Thor muttered, his voice low and threatening. He didn't look at his brother; his eyes were still fixed on the side of your head, searching for the crack in your armor.

You didn't give him one. You picked up your silver fork, your movements clinical and cold, your mind still screaming with the words;

The replacement.

“Such a charming atmosphere,” Loki continued, clearly delighted by the ripple of irritation he'd caused in his brother. He leaned closer to you, his voice dropping to a theatrical stage-whisper. “If the wedding is half as cheerful as this dinner, little bird, we shall all need to double the wine order.”

Thor’s hand clamped onto the edge of the table, his knuckles white against the dark wood. “What did I just tell you, brother?”

Loki’s smirk sharpened into a devilish, knowing smile. He leaned back, spreading his hands as if to marvel at the spectacle. “My, my. Not even at the altar yet, and already so possessive, Thor? I didn't realize the Lady of the High House had managed to chain the God of Thunder so securely to her heel before the first toast was even poured. It’s quite the transformation.”

“Possessive?” You let out a short, hollow laugh that didn't reach your eyes. You finally turned your head, not to Thor, but to Loki, your voice dripping with a detached mockery. “Oh, I haven’t the faintest idea why he is acting so territorial, Loki. It seems a waste of energy, especially since he surely has lovers scattered across the realms waiting for his return while he plays the part of the dutiful fiancé here.”

The table went deathly quiet. Loki’s eyebrows shot into his hairline, his devilish smile faltering into genuine, sharp-eyed surprise. “What are you talking ab—“

“You truly think so little of me?”

Thor’s voice was a whip-crack. He turned to you fully now, his massive frame shifting so he was looming over your side of the table, the fur of his mantle brushing your arm. His eyebrows were furrowed in deep, sincere confusion, but beneath it was a growing, hurt spark of indignation.

“That I would have lovers—let alone a lover—when I am to be bound to you tomorrow?” he demanded, his blue eyes searching yours desperately. “When I have spent these days preparing to honor our houses and this union? I am a Prince of Asgard, my lady. I do not hide behind the skirts of others while I prepare to give you my word at the altar. Is that truly what you think of my character?”

He reached toward you, his hand hovering near yours on the table as if wanting to force you to see the truth in his expression. The heat radiating from him was overwhelming, the scent of rain and leather filling your senses.

You didn’t spare a glance at his hand. Instead, you turned your gaze to him and offered a small, broken smile—one that was sharp and brittle as glass. You didn't believe a single word of his righteous defense; the whispers of the maids were still ringing too loudly in your ears, painting him as a liar playing a role for the court.

“I think you are exactly the man the All-Father raised you to be, Thor,” you whispered, “A very good actor.”

Thor’s jaw tightened, his mouth slightly agape as the word actor hung in the air like a physical blow. He didn't pull away; instead, he leaned closer, his blue eyes searching yours desperately.

“Has someone said something to you?” he asked, his voice a low, urgent vibration that ignored the clinking of glasses and the roar of the hall. “Because if they have—“

“To the Prince and his Lady! To the future of Asgard!”

Volstagg’s boisterous roar cut him off as the Warriors Three and Sif descended upon your corner of the table, their heavy mugs slamming together in a deafening celebratory chorus.

Thor was pulled into a flurry of shoulder-slaps and booming jests about his final night of freedom, but his eyes never truly left yours. He looked like a man being dragged away from a burning building while the survivors were still inside.

You turned your gaze away, staring fixedly at the dark, shimmering surface of your mead.

“Little bird.”

Loki’s voice was no longer drawling or mocking. It was a sharp, quiet whisper that barely carried over the laughter of the warriors. He leaned in, his green eyes narrowed and uncharacteristically grave. He wasn't smirking anymore, he was studying the way your hands were trembling beneath the table.

“Something has happened,” Loki murmured, his gaze flicking toward the maids near the tapestries and back to you. “Whatever you've heard, whatever is eating at you, just tell me.”

“I do not wish to talk about it, Loki,” you whispered, your voice brittle. “Not here. Not ever.”

Loki’s expression shifted, a rare look of genuine concern softening the sharp angles of his face. He knew his brother—knew his faults, his arrogance, and his temper—but he also knew that Thor, for all his bluster, was incapable of the kind of calculated, two-faced cruelty you were implying.

“We will talk about it,” Loki stated, his tone leaving no room for argument. “But later. When we are alone.”

Across the table, Thor was nodding at Fandral’s jokes and accepting a fresh goblet of ale, but his focus was entirely fractured.

He watched the way Loki leaned toward you, the way your shoulders finally slumped slightly at his brother's whispered words, and the way you refused to even glance in his direction.

A dark, hot sensation began to boil deep in Thor's chest—a raw, territorial feeling he felt before. Because of you.

He didn't understand your hurt, but he understood the sight of his brother comforting his bride-to-be.

He found himself unable to swallow.

He was still staring, his grip on his goblet so tight the silver began to complain, his blue eyes clouded with a turbulent, dark energy as he watched Loki’s lingering proximity to you. His chest heaving under his armor as if the air in the room had suddenly grown too thin to breathe.

“You must be vibrating with excitement,” Lady Sif remarked to you, leaning across the table, her keen eyes tracing the sharp lines of your expression. “To be joined to the greatest warrior in the Nine Realms by this time tomorrow—it is a transition few could handle with such grace.”

You forced your attention away from Loki and the burning heat of Thor’s gaze, turning to her with a well crafted smile.

“Very much so, Sif,” you replied, your voice smooth and hollow. “It is everything I was raised to expect.”

The double meaning hung in the air, unnoticed by the boisterous warriors but caught instantly by the two brothers flanking you. You could feel the weight of Thor’s stare on the side of your face—heavy, searching, and increasingly desperate.

He looked as if he wanted to reach out and physically turn you toward him, to demand an explanation for the wall of glass you had built between you in the span of a single hour.

He didn't understand why your rejection stung so sharply; he had told himself this was a duty, a contract, yet the sight of you looking through him made his blood run hot with a fever he couldn't justify.

Then, the rhythmic pounding of a staff echoed through the hall, silencing the chatter.

“The toasts!” Volstagg bellowed, standing up with a massive flagon raised high.

All the memorized lines had vaporized from Thor’s mind. Nothing was right, now that you weren't even acknowledging him.

He had to improvise.

Volstagg continued, “To the union of the High House and the Throne! To the future Queen who will keep our Thunderer in line!”

The hall erupted in a chorus of “To the bride!” and “To Asgard!”

Beside you, Thor stood slowly, his crimson cape and fur mantle shifting with a heavy rustle. He didn't look at the crowd nor did he look at his father. He looked down at you, his pupils blown wide, his jaw set in a hard, pained line that spoke of a pride wounded by a woman he claimed not to care for.

“A toast,” Thor murmured, his voice sounding like grinding stone,

“To the union of our houses, and to the vows we shall take when the sun next rises. To a future where we may learn to cherish one another, to find a common ground built on more than just duty and ancient laws. And to the hope that we might one day find a love that rivals the legends of old.”

The last sentence made you turn your head to him, meeting his tormented gaze.

He leaned down then, the scent of him enveloping you as he whispered the final words close to your ear, his voice barely a breath against your skin.

The hair on your arms stood up.

“And to the hope that one day, sunshine, you will look at me with something other than contempt.”

He straightened back up and drained his goblet in one smooth motion, his gaze never leaving yours as he did so.

Loki watched from your other side, his fingers tapping a restless, silent beat against the table.

Every noble in the Great Hall, every guard, and every servant was watching. Your parents and the All-Father were seated together, their eyes fixed on you, waiting for the traditional response that would seal the evening’s festivities.

“You will not make a toast, my lady?” Sif whispered to you, her keen eyes darting between your drained face and Thor’s brooding profile.

You cleared your throat, the collar of you dress suddenly feeling like it was tightening around your neck. The whispers of the maids about his mortal lover were still screaming in your mind, making his words about love and honesty feel like a cruel, elaborate joke.

“Right,” you murmured, your voice brittle. “Of course I will, Lady Sif.”

You stood, your midnight-velvet skirts falling into perfect, rigid lines. You lifted your gold-rimmed glass, the liquid inside shimmering under the chandeliers, and looked out over the sea of expectant faces, purposely avoiding the burning blue gaze of the man sitting next to you.

“To Asgard,” you began, your voice clear and cold, carrying a cutting edge. “To a realm built on tradition, on secrets, and on the strength of those who know how to play their parts perfectly. May we all find the comfort we seek in the roles we are forced to inhabit, and may the truth never be as heavy as the crowns we wear.”

You tilted your glass toward Thor—a gesture that was technically a salute but felt more like a challenge—and drank. The bitter-sweet mead burned your throat, matching the fire of the unacknowledged feelings and the hurt currently eating you alive.

Loki’s fingers stopped their restless tapping. He looked up at you, his green eyes flashing with a mix of genuine concern and dark intrigue. He knew that toast wasn't for the kingdom. It was a spear, aimed directly at his brother's heart.

—

You were in the dressing suite that smelled of lavender and expensive oils, and felt entirely devoid of oxygen. Your lady’s maids hovered like colorful moths, their nimble fingers tucking stray hairs and smoothing the rigid gold embroidery of your bodice. The dress was a masterpiece, molding to your frame until it felt less like fabric and more like a second, cold skin.

It was beautiful.

It was suffocating.

You tilted your head back, staring at the vaulted ceiling to force the hot, stinging tears back into their ducts.

You weren't fond of him—not really. He was loud, he was reckless, and he represented everything you hadn't chosen for yourself. But the humiliation of the secret was a different kind of pain. It was not only a political contract anymore. It was the realization that while you were being braced for a lifetime of duty, he was yearning for a mortal woman. You weren't his partner, no, you were the ornate lid he was using to bury his past.

The heavy oak doors groaned open, and your father stepped into the room. He looked at you, his chest swelling with a pride that felt like a betrayal.

“The moment has come,” he said, his voice steady and grounding. He walked toward you, resting a firm hand on your shoulder. “Are you ready to walk, my darling?”

You couldn't find your voice. You only nodded, the weight of the ancestral jewelry pulling at your neck.

“Thor is a great man,” your father murmured, misinterpreting the tremor in your hands for bridal nerves. “He has the heart of a king and the strength of a storm. He will be good to you. He will protect you.”

You offered him a smile that felt like it was made of cracked porcelain—brittle, sharp, and ready to shatter at the slightest touch.

You didn't believe him. You didn't believe in the great man who hid Midgardian scientists in his heart while standing at an Asgardian altar.

“I am sure he will, Father,” you whispered.

“Then let us go.” He held out his arm, a formal, rigid invitation.

I can do this, you told yourself, the words a mantra of survival. I can play the part. I can be the ghost.

You tucked your hand into the crook of his elbow, your fingers grazing the fine wool of his ceremonial tunic. As he led you out of the room, the distant, low trill of the ceremonial horns began to echo through the halls.

As the massive doors of the Throne Room swung open, the sea of gold-clad nobles fell into a suffocating, expectant silence.

The aisle seemed to stretch for miles, a river of deep blue carpet leading toward the man who waited at the end. Thor stood before the All-Father, draped in his ceremonial plate, the crimson of his cape stark against the silver of his armor. He looked immovable, a pillar of thunder and ancient duty. But as you drew closer, you saw the way his jaw was set—rigid, pained, as if he were bracing for an impact.

Your father’s arm was a steady, grounding weight, but your focus was entirely on the Prince. His beautiful blue eyes were fixed on yours, unblinking and intense, searching your face for a sliver of the woman he’d shared a laugh with only days ago. Instead, he found only the sharp, porcelain mask of a bride walking to her sentence.

As you reached his side, the familiar scent of rain and leather enveloped you, a physical presence that made your breath hitch in the back of your throat.

He reached out, his large hand trembling almost imperceptibly as he took yours to lead you to the final step. The contact sent a spark of gold and static through your skin, a reminder of the power simmering between you—power that currently felt like a cage.

He leaned in, his voice a low, secret rasp that barely carried past the fur of his mantle.

“You look breathtaking, sunshine,” he whispered, his eyes searching yours with a desperate, raw honesty that made your heart ache with a sudden, violent flare of anger.

The nickname has always been a playful jab, but now it only felt like a lie designed to keep you quiet. You didn't look at him. You kept your gaze fixed on the All-Father, your profile as cold and sharp as a winter moon.

“Save your lines for the vows, Thor,” you murmured, your voice a brittle thread. “We both know you’ve had plenty of practice playing the part.”

Thor flinched as if you’d struck him, his grip on your hand tightening for a fraction of a second before he caught himself.

Beside him, Loki watched the exchange, his green eyes flashing with pity.

It was a rare sight indeed.

“Calm down, my lady,” Loki breathed, his voice a ghost of a sound as he stepped into place behind his brother. “Try not to break the Prince before the blessing is finished.”

You stood there, shoulder to shoulder with a man you didn't know if you could ever trust, while the weight of a kingdom and a secret mortal lover pressed down on you both.

The ceremony began, the ancient words of the All-Father washing over you like a tide, but all you could feel was the heat of Thor’s body next to yours and the suffocating realization that there was no turning back.

As the All-Father raised his spear, the atmosphere began to shimmer. Gold-flecked mist from your own magic began to swirl around your feet, coiling upward to meet the faint, blue-white arcs of electricity that danced off Thor’s armor.

“The Binding,” Odin’s voice boomed, echoing off the vaulted ceiling like a death knell. “Two souls, two powers, woven into one tapestry.”

You felt your fingers turning to ice, the blood retreating from your extremities as the reality of the moment settled into your bones. When Thor reached his other hand out, his large, calloused hand sliding against yours, a sharp gasp escaped your lips. The heat of him was staggering—a furnace of sun-warmed leather and raw, pulsing energy—but it was the contact that broke your composure.

The moment your palms pressed together, a literal spark erupted between you—a violent, beautiful fusion of gold and lightning that raced up your arms.

You both flinched, a mutual, instinctive jolt of surprise, but the magic held you fast. Your fingers were locked together by a force far greater than your own will, a magnetic force that refused to let you pull away.

Thor’s chest heaved, his breath coming in shallow hitches as he looked down at your joined hands, then up into your eyes. He looked dazed, as if the physical connection had short-circuited his very being.

Odin began the ancient incantations of the union, but the world had narrowed down to the heat of Thor's grip and the way his thumb brushed almost tentatively over your knuckles.

“The vows,” Odin commanded, his one eye fixed on his son.

Thor leaned in toward you, his massive frame casting a shadow over you, his voice dropping into a raw, gravelly register that shook with a force you weren't prepared for.

“I, Thor Odinson, take you to be my wife, my partner, and my equal,” he began, his blue eyes searching yours with a desperate, confused sincerity.

“I vow to stand before you in every storm and to shield your light with my own life if the need arises. I know we have walked a path of shadows and silence, and I know I have not always been the man you deserved. But I give you my word, here before the All-Father and the Nine Realms, that I will spend every day of our lives trying to be the man who earns the right to stand beside you.”

He paused, his voice cracking slightly,

“I choose you,” he whispered, so low only you could hear. “Not because I must, but because I cannot imagine the throne without you.”

Your eyebrows knitted desperately, your confused gaze not leaving his.

It was a beautiful lie. It was so perfectly, devastatingly sincere that for a fleeting second, you almost believed him. You almost forgot the whispers and the phantom of the mortal woman he’d left behind on Midgard.

But then, the cold weight of the star-spun silk reminded you of the role you were playing, and the broken smile returned to your lips.

You looked up at him, your gold-flecked eyes hard and bright, prepared to deliver the lines you had practiced until they bled.

You tore your gaze away from Thor, the heat from his hands still searing your skin where they were locked together in the magnetic pull of the binding. You needed to do this. You needed to play the role of the dutiful, silent replacement.

You looked up at the All-Father, your expression a perfectly crafted mask of icy, royal detachment. Your voice, when it came, was a smooth, even blade, cutting through the heavy silence of the Throne Room.

“I take you, Thor Odinson, as my husband and my King,” you recited, each word delivered with the sterile, practiced grace of a court official. “I pledge to stand as the shield of Asgard, to honor our alliance with my life, and to perform the duties required of this throne. I vow to build a future for this realm, to give it an heir, and to maintain the dignity of the crown until my very last breath.”

You didn't look at Thor as you spoke. You didn't offer him the hope of honesty or the comfort of a common ground. You gave him a contract, sealed in gold and ice, an answer to the desperate plea he’d made minutes ago.

You saw his jaw tighten, his blue eyes clouding with a complex mix of frustration and defeat as he registered the deliberate coldness of your response.

He was searching your face, starved for a single glance, a single thought, but found only the marble surface you intended for him to see.

Odin watched the two of you, the silence stretching uncomfortably. He saw the fire in his son and the ice in his bride, and a flicker of doubt crossed his face before it was replaced by a grim resolve.

“The union is witnessed,” Odin boomed, bringing Gungnir down in a definitive crash that sent a visible shockwave through the floorboards.

“You may kiss the bride.”

The command froze you. Thor didn't hesitate. He moved with a focused urgency, his large, burning hands moving to cup your face, his palms like branded irons against your skin.

You swallowed hard, your chest hitching as his right hand descended, settling firmly against your waist. The heat of his touch was instantaneous and undeniable, seeping through the structured star-spun silk.

His eyes searched yours, desperate, before they fluttered shut and he leaned in.

The moment his lips pressed against yours, the relief was so violent it felt like the force of a thousand stars. A soft sigh escaped you, mirrored by the low, guttural groan that vibrated in Thor’s chest as he sealed the contract. The unmoving state of your lips slowly starting to dissolve into a slow, gentle kiss. His lips were moving in a tender way, slowly kissing you, like he was afraid this moment would be taken from him.

Though, the gentleness of the seal didn't last. The kiss shifted instantly, turning into something raw and desperate, a mutual collision of two drowning people. Thor didn't hold back; his lips moved with a bruising need, his tongue grazing your lower lip as he angled his head, cradling you against him.

He was not only sealing a vow but he was trying to devour the shadow of the mortal woman he was supposed to love.

You were no better.

Your fingers found his massive biceps, nails digging in so hard you could feel the leather starting to give under the pressure. The gold of your magic sparked wildly against the static blue of his skin, a physical manifestation of the electricity arcing between you.

It felt right. In the middle of all the lies and the whispers, this—the heat, the desperation, the frantic need for ground—was the only thing that felt true. He was your anchor.

For that singular heartbeat, the storm inside of you stopped.

Odin’s impatient clearing of his throat cracked through the hall like a gunshot.

Loki leaned back, that familiar, devilish smile spreading across his face as he took in the spectacle.

Your chest was heaving as you pulled apart from Thor with a snap, the cold air of the room hitting your damp lips. You tore your gaze away immediately, staring at the floor, finding it hard to breathe.

Thor stood there, dazed, his hands hovering awkwardly in mid-air as if he didn't know where to put them, the regal Prince instantly replaced by a man who looked utterly undone by the ghost of a kiss.

You were both breathless.

You had found your anchors in the dark, but as you stood shoulder-to-shoulder to face the cheering crowd, the frustration was a physical ache in your throat. You were more trapped, and more confused, than you had ever been before.

Odin moved with a heavy stride, his golden spear thumping against the floor as he descended from the altar.

You wanted to move, too—to run, to hide, to do anything but exist in that space—but you were a statue, your feet rooted to the spot. Thor stayed put, his massive frame looming beside you, neither of you brave enough to break the silence.

“Are you two planning on spending the rest of the decade here?” Loki’s drawl cut through the tension like a blade. “Or is the dramatic scene a new part of the ceremony I wasn't informed of?”

You both jumped, snapping out of the trance as if you’d been physically struck. You turned to look at each other, but the moment your eyes nearly met, you both flinched away, unable to hold the contact. Thor cleared his throat, the sound small in the vast hall.

You focused on the broad, overwhelming line of his shoulders, your gaze fixed on the intricate silver work of his armor because you couldn't bear to look him in the eye. “Let's go downst—“

“Yes,” Thor cut you off, his deep voice dropping into a register that made the fine hairs on your arms stand up. “My wife.”

The words hit you like a physical blow. My wife. Your heart started beating a violent rhythm against your ribcage, trying to break free of the suffocating dress. His eyes were burning into the side of your face, a heavy weight that made your skin feel too tight. You averted your eyes again, blinking rapidly.

He offered you his hand, an open invitation. “Let's go, then.”

When you made no move to take it—your body frozen in a silent protest you didn't understand—he didn't wait. He simply engulfed your trembling hand in his giant, warm palm. The feel of his hand was electric, making your skin tingle and your lungs constrict until you were sure you’d forgotten how to breathe.

You looked down at your joined hands, your mouth agape and your brows knitted in a dreamy look.

Thor didn't look away. He was tracing the line of your knitted brows, his gaze descending slowly to the bridge of your nose before locking onto your parted lips. His own heart started thumping against his chest, a heavy, dull roar that he hoped you couldn't hear. Fuck, he thought, the word a silent curse in his mind. She is mesmerizing.

You lifted your head, catching the raw, unshielded intensity in his blue eyes. You gulped, “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

He didn't pull back. He couldn't help himself. “You’re the most breathtaking sight I have ever set my eyes upon in my life.”

The sincerity in his voice felt like a trap.

Is he playing a game with me?

You couldn't find a retort, your usual sharp tongue failing you as a hot, traitorous blush crawled up your cheeks. You turned your head, searching the space past him, expecting to see Loki’s mocking grin, but the spot where he’d stood was empty. He’d already descended.

Thor’s eyebrows furrowed, his expression darkening instantly.

“Are you looking for someone, sunshine?”

That unnerving sensation from the dinner was back, boiling in the pit of his stomach. He shouldn't feel like this—for you especially. But the suspicion was a blade carved in his chest.

You turned back to him, your voice small. “Yes. For Loki.”

Thor didn't respond with words. Instead, a burning, white-hot sensation engulfed him, something more primitive and violent than he had ever felt in his life. His grasp on your hand tightened, his fingers pressing into your skin with a possessive, crushing strength.

You had just married him, and you were already looking for his brother. Thor’s jaw locked, his eyes turning into a turbulent, dark sea as he began to lead you down the stairs, his thumb digging into your palm with a silent, furious warning.

He moved with a relentless, heavy stride, the crimson of his cape snapping behind him like a battle flag. You were forced into a hasty, uneven pace, your feet stumbling over your skirts just to keep from falling. One of his steps was equivalent to two of yours, and he was using every bit of that advantage.

“Thor, could you loosen your grip a little? You’re hurting my hand,” you said, your voice tight with rising irritation. He didn't even flinch. It was like he had suddenly developed hearing problems, his focus locked straight ahead, leading you to the feast.

“Thor? Do you not hear me?” you tried again, louder this time. He didn't turn back, just kept walking, his massive hand a crushing weight around yours. “Thor? What is wrong with you?”You exhaled a sharp sigh, closing your eyes for a brief second to beg the Norns for patience. “Are you deaf, husband?”

That stopped him. He halted in his tracks so abruptly you nearly collided with his back. He turned his head slowly, his profile silhouetted against the torchlight. “Yes, darling?”

The tone was honey over a blade.

He has to be fucking kidding. He stops now? He’s a prick.

“What is wrong with you?” you snapped, your brows knitted in a sharp, defensive line. “Are you not aware you’re a giant? You’re dragging me behind you like a rag doll!”

He turned fully toward you then, his gaze heavy and clouded. “My apologies, treasure.”

Your eyebrows shot up. Treasure. Now that was new. The word felt strange coming from him, a stark contrast to the territorial storm he was radiating. Your thumb instinctively grazed the back of his hand—a sliver of compassion that slipped through your guard before you could catch it. His eyes followed the movement of your thumb, his rigid posture softening.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, your voice dropping. “Why are you so worked up?”

For a moment, it was as if you had cleared a thick fog from his mind. His expression shifted, the anger receding into something sharper, something more focused. “Stay away from Loki.”

You were taken aback, physically stepping away from him. The words felt like a slap.

So he thinks I am so beneath him that I am not even worthy of being friends with his brother.

You scoffed, a dry, bitter sound. “You have no say in that.”

He exhaled a harsh, hot breath through his nose, his eyes darkening to a turbulent navy. “I am your husband now. Yes, I do.”

You forced your hand out of his grip as if his skin had suddenly turned to white-hot iron. You stared at him, your eyes wide with disbelief at the sheer cruelty of his demand. Just as the retort was bubbling up in your throat—just as you were ready to tear into him, a feminine voice was heard.

“Can I steal your bride away, son?”

Frigga appeared between you like a calming tide. She didn't wait for an answer, her gentle but firm hands reaching out to intertwine her arm with yours. “I want to introduce her to some of my friends.”

She began to lead you away, her touch a stark contrast to Thor’s crushing grip. You let her drag you toward the sea of guests, but you couldn't help but look back over your shoulder. Thor stood exactly where you’d left him, a solitary, brooding figure in the middle of the hall, his hand still half-extended as if he were still trying to hold onto a ghost.

Frigga led you through the shimmering crowd, her presence a calm anchor in the sea of gold and loud laughter. She squeezed your arm gently, her voice a warm murmur meant only for your ears.

“I know the weight of a crown can be heavy, especially when it is placed on your head so suddenly,” she said, glancing at you with those knowing, maternal eyes. “But Thor is a good man. He is headstrong, yes, but he is clearly quite taken with you, dear.”

You nearly tripped over your own hem. You came to a dead stop, staring at her with wide, disbelieving eyes.

“Thor? Are we actually talking about the same Thor, Queen Mother? What on earth makes you say that?”

She only offered a small, mysterious smile, undeterred by your skepticism. “I know my son. I’ve seen him in battle and I’ve seen him in love, and the way he looks at you... it is a different kind of storm entirely.”

You frowned, lines forming between your brows. “You must be mistaken,” you whispered.

She cannot be telling the truth. There is Jane. There is the ghost he actually wants.

Before you could press her further, she swept you toward a group of high-ranking noblewomen. “Ladies, may I introduce the new Princess of Asgard.”

The next twenty minutes were a blur of forced smiles and endless congratulations. You nodded and thanked them, your dress feeling heavier with every lie you told. She's wrong, you thought to yourself, watching the crowd. She has to be.

Suddenly, the sea of people parted. Loki appeared as if he had materialized from the shadows, his green silk tunic catching the light. He stepped forward with a predatory grace, offering a shallow, mocking bow to the ladies.

“If I may be so bold as to steal the woman of the hour,” Loki drawled, his eyes locked on yours. “I haven't properly congratulated my dearest friend on her promotion.”

You couldn’t help the cackle that left you at his words.

Promotion?

He’s an idiot.

Frigga gave a knowing nod, and Loki wasted no time whisking you away toward a quieter alcove behind a massive marble pillar. The second you were out of the immediate line of sight, the mask dropped. His expression turned uncharacteristically grave, his eyes searching your face.

“Alright,” he whispered, leaning in so close you could smell the faint scent of old books and magic. “The ceremony is over, the knot is tied. Now, tell me what happened. What is really eating at you, little bird?”

The tension that had been coiling in your chest like a wire finally snapped, replaced by the cool, familiar presence of the one person who actually saw you.

Loki’s proximity was a balm, a sanctuary of shared history that allowed your shoulders to finally drop from their rigid, defensive height.

He had been your confidant through every court scandal and every quiet rebellion, but this felt different.

How were you supposed to put this into words? How could you tell him his brother was a pretentious asshole, a man who had just stood at an altar and pledged a life of honesty while his heart beat for a mortal ghost? How could you explain that you were nothing but a gilded lid meant to bury his past?

Your expression soured, crumpling into a mask of pure agony that you couldn't hide from him. Loki’s neutral, mocking mask vanished instantly, his gaze sharpening with a rare, genuine concern. Without a word, he stepped into your space, his arms engulfing you in a firm, steadying hug. He pulled you against the cool silk of his tunic, his presence a silent vow of protection.

“Just tell me,” he murmured against your hair, his voice low and grounding. “Tell me everything.”

For a heartbeat, you let yourself lean into him, thinking that no matter how suffocating this marriage became, you still had your friend.

But what you did not know was that Thor had seen everything. From across the crowded hall, he had watched Loki guide you away from Frigga and her friends, leading you into the shadows of the alcove.

He had seen the way you went willingly, the way your guard dropped for his brother in a way it never had for him.

He had followed, his heavy boots silent against the stone, his blood beginning to boil with a heat he still couldn't name.

And he was not happy with the scene he was witnessing.

A shadow fell over the both of you, massive—intimidating.

“What are you two doing here?”

Thor’s voice boomed, a low-frequency rumble that vibrated in your teeth and sent a jolt of pure adrenaline through your system. You jumped, nearly tripping over your own feet as you pulled back from Loki, your heart hammering against your ribs.

Thor stood at the entrance of the alcove, his crimson cape billowing slightly as if caught in an invisible wind. His blue eyes were turbulent, flashing with a dangerous heat as he took in the sight of his brother holding his bride. His jaw was set so hard you could see the muscle leaping in his cheek, his hands curled into white-knuckled fists at his sides.

“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded, his gaze fixed on Loki.

“We are talking, as you can see,” Loki stated, his voice smooth and dangerously calm, though his eyes remained fixed on his brother’s volatile expression.

But Thor wasn’t having it. A storm barely contained beneath his skin.

“Do not lie to me. What is going on with you two?”

He was beyond furious; he was vibrating with a heat that seemed to shrink the very walls of the alcove.

“Thor, have you gone mad?” you snapped, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs. “What are you implying? Loki and I have been friends since forever and you know that. We all grew up together, for gods' sake!”

Thor didn't answer immediately. He closed his eyes, his jaw working as he fought for some semblance of control. He held out his hand, a silent, heavy command. “Come here.”

You looked at his hand—large, calloused, and still pulsing with a faint blue light—and then back to his agitated face.

He has gone mad, you thought, a cold shiver tracing your spine. He was being possessive because you were his wife; he saw you merely as his property, a prize to be guarded.

“Come here,” he repeated, his voice dropping into a pained, gravelly register. “Before I lose my fucking mind.”

He looked tortured when he opened his eyes, his blue orbs blown wide and dark with a conflict he couldn't contain. Your hand finally found his, and the moment your skin touched, he released a sharp breath, his shoulders dropping slightly as if he’d been given a hope of life again. Without a word, he turned, his grip tightening as he started walking away, taking you with him and leaving Loki in the shadows.

“You can't just do this, you know!” you started, your anger finally seeping through the cracks of your regal mask.

You waited until you were out in the corridors, the sounds of the feast fading into a dull roar behind heavy stone walls. Once you were sure no one was watching, you started yelling, your voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings. “You cannot claim me like that and go have a fucking mistress, Thor!”

He stopped then. He turned to you, his brows knitted in a look of pure confusion. “Are you hearing yourself, my treasure? There is no mistress.”

You scoffed, a dry, bitter sound. You were done with his pathetic lies.

You tried to tear your hand away from his iron-like grip, your nails digging into the leather of his bracers. “I’m talking about Jane, Thor!”

The name hit the air like a physical strike. Thor’s expression shifted instantly from anger to a stunned, hollowed-out confusion. “How do you know about her?”

“Oh, so now you’re not denying it?” You were still struggling, your chest heaving as the star-spun silk of your gown constricted your lungs. “Let go of my hand this instant!”

He didn't move. He looked like he’d been turned to stone by the sound of her name. Frustrated and feeling the walls closing in, you didn't wait for him to find his words. You summoned a sharp, concussive burst of your gold magic, the energy slamming into his chest and forcing him to take a stumbling step back.

The physical break felt like a release of pressure. You took a gasping breath, the heat of him finally receding. You turned and started walking through the corridors, your heels clicking sharply against the marble.

“Do not follow me!” you threw over your shoulder, not looking back to see the pained, fractured look on your husband's face as he stood alone in the dark.

The clicking of your heels on the marble was a frantic, uneven beat, but then you heard the heavy, rhythmic thud of footsteps behind you.

“Do you even know where you are going?” he called out, his voice closing the distance with terrifying ease.

Your steps were no match for his giant ones. Panicked and fueled by a surge of stubborn adrenaline, you started running—or trying to, at least, while wrestling with the weight of your wedding gown and the height of your heels. The gown felt like a cage around your legs, threatening to tangle you at every turn.

“I am going to my room!” you threw over your shoulder, your breath hitching.

“And do you know where your room is?”

You didn't have the slightest clue, but you weren't about to give him the satisfaction. “I do!”

“Oh, please do show me where it is then, my dear wife,” he responded, his voice dripping with a dry sarcasm that made you want to scream.

You rounded a corner too sharply, your foot catching on the hem of your dress. You stumbled, a small gasp escaping you as you nearly hit the floor, but you forced yourself to keep going, your heart hammering against your ribs. Behind you, the mocking tone in Thor's voice vanished instantly.

“Would you please stop? You're going to fall, my treasure,” he called out, his tone shifting into something desperate and pained. “I beg of you—where are you even going?!”

You had no intention of stopping. You saw a set of massive, ornate doors and barged through them, desperate for sanctuary. But as you crossed the threshold, his hand caught your arm with a firm, inescapable grip.

He stopped you—he pulled your body towards him, spinning you around so quickly that the world blurred for a second. Your back hit the heavy wood of the door with a dull thud, and suddenly, he was there, crowding into your space. You do not even know when he closed the doors.

He made you face him, his hands gripping your upper arms as he pinned you against the door. Your faces were inches apart—close enough that you could feel the heat of his breath against your lips and see the desperate look in his blue eyes.

The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the sound of both of your chests heaving in the quiet of the room. He looked as if he wanted to yell and pull you closer all at once, his jaw set in that tortured line as he stared down at you.

“Do you even know where you've run off to without noticing?” he whispered, his voice low, a strong vibration that seemed to hum right against your skin.

He leaned in further, his nose brushing against yours, forcing you to look up. His gaze dropped to your lips, a heavy, focused weight that made your pulse erratic. You gulped, the sound loud in the sudden quiet of the room. “No,” you breathed, your voice barely a thread.

Your breathing was becoming dangerously uneven.

A sudden, sharp nervousness flared in your chest, a heat that had nothing to do with the palace's warmth.

Had you always felt this way? Was this the real reason you had spent years perfecting the art of avoiding him—because the gravity of his presence was too much to fight?

“You were right,” he murmured, a slow, dark smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. “You did know where you were going.”

He lifted his gaze slowly, his blue eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that felt like a physical grip. “These are my chambers—our chambers. You did find your room.”

Our? Is he out of his mind?

“Our chambers?” you repeated, the words tasting like copper in your mouth. “We’re going to sleep in the same room? I don’t have my own?”

The heavy silk of your gown felt colder now. You could feel a light breeze drifting in from the open balcony, grazing your right side and sending a violent shiver up your spine. The room was vast, filled with the scent of leather and mountain air, but it felt smaller than the alcove with him standing this close.

“Yes, our chambers. Congratulations, sunshine, we are going to be roommates.” Thor replied, smiling in a devilish way you never thought it possible for him to have it in him. Then his expression hardened into something more pragmatic, though his eyes never left yours. “How do you think our fathers would feel if they noticed us sleeping in separate rooms on our wedding night?”

He stayed rooted in your space, his hands still firm on your arms.

He knew he was acting irrational, but the moment he had seen the maids preparing a separate suite for you, something in him had snapped. He’d dismissed them with a sharp word, claiming you would be staying with him—an impulse he’d rather face Surtur than admit to you.

Your mouth was agape, your body frozen like a deer caught in headlights. “I—“ you started, but the words died in your throat.

A traitorous blush crept up your neck and flooded your cheeks. The realization of what this meant hit you with the force of a thousand stars.

Staying in the same room was one thing, but sharing that massive, fur-draped bed? On your wedding night? Oh, gods.

You looked down, suddenly overwhelmed by a shyness that felt entirely too vulnerable. Because the truth was, you wanted it. You weren't blind. You had spent years sharpening your tongue against him precisely because you wanted him so badly it hurt. You just couldn't admit it to yourself, until now.

He had always been irritatingly handsome—those silky golden locks that framed his face, that massive, powerful frame that made you feel so small, and that face that seemed carved by the gods themselves.

His left hand slowly ascended from your arm, his large fingers tracing the line of your shoulder before coming to cradle your face with a reverence that felt almost holy. At the same time, his right hand slid around your waist, his grip tightening as he glued you to his front. The heat of him through the fabric was staggering. Your hands instinctively found his chest, feeling the heavy thud of his heart beneath the silver plates of his armor.

“Look at me, my sun,” he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly command.

You lifted your gaze, and the breath died in your lungs. The blue of his eyes had darkened into a turbulent sea of burning desire.

Fuck, he wanted you. This wasn't just a role for the All-Father anymore. He had carried a crush on you since you were children, a quiet thing tucked behind boyish bravado, but it had morphed into something far more dangerous as he watched you grow.

You were killing him. Your figure, which could put the goddesses of the higher realms to shame, and that smooth, soft skin that seemed to catch the light of the sun itself—it was all his undoing.

He was captivated by your eyes, the most beautiful he had ever seen, yet he was equally maddened by the sharp, snarky tongue that had kept him at arm’s length for years. Every snide remark and cold shoulder had only fueled the fire, making the want for you a permanent ache in his marrow.

You felt naked under his gaze, stripped of every royal defense. The massive chamber, with its high vaulted ceilings and sprawling balconies, felt suddenly, claustrophobically small with him inside it. He had a way of making the world shrink until there was only him.

“Do you want this?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone.

You didn't give him a verbal answer; you couldn't find the air for one. Instead, your hands moved, your fingers tangling in those silky golden locks as you cradled his face. You pulled him down, pressing your lips to his burning ones with a desperation that shattered the last of your resolve.

He reciprocated almost immediately, his groan lost against your mouth as his hand slid to the back of your head, fingers tangling deep into your hair to tilt you further into him. His lips were moving in a desperate rhythm, unravelling you in a way that made you feel impossible things. The sensation of his smooth lips gliding over yours made the world tilt on its axis, leaving you high on the sheer proximity of him.

When he proceeded to graze his tongue along the seam of your lips, the last of your resolve simply evaporated. You moaned helplessly, the sound vibrating between you, and he took the opportunity to slam you back into the door. As your lips parted, he glided his tongue over yours, taking everything you were willing to give and demanding more.

You’ve never kissed anyone like this. You’ve never been kissed by anyone like this—with a hunger that felt like it could consume the entire realm.

His hands, large and trembling with a sudden, hasty energy, found the back of your gown. You felt the cool air of the chambers hit your skin as he slowly, methodically undid the laces of the corset. He broke the kiss then, his breath coming in shallow hitches as he watched the star-spun silk lose its grip and pool in a shimmering heap at your feet.

His eyes roamed over you, taking in the sight of your white lace matching set against your smooth skin. “Fuck,” he murmured, his voice a broken, gravelly rasp. He closed his eyes for a heartbeat, as if the sight were too much to bear, before looking back at you with a raw, enchanted look in his eyes. “I’ve never seen a woman as beautiful as you, my treasure.”

His right hand descended from your waist, his palm burning a trail down your skin until it hooked under your left leg. He lifted it with effortless strength, pinning you firmly against the wood of the door as he crowded back into your space, his forehead resting against yours.

“My beautiful, breathtaking wife,” he whispered, the words vibrating against your skin and sinking into your bones.

You looked up at him, your gaze dazed and heavy-lidded. Your lips were swollen from the friction of his kisses, your hair a tangled mess against the dark wood of the door. Your chest rose and fell in slow, shallow hitches, every breath a struggle in the state you were in. You were completely and utterly undone, stripped of the royal mask and the sharp defenses you’d spent years building.

And you liked it. You loved being undone by him, finally yielding to the gravity that had been pulling at you since childhood.

You gulped, the sound echoing in the quiet of the room. “Just keep kissing me, please,” you begged, your voice a fractured, desperate thread.

A slow, triumphant smile pulled at his lips. It was as if he had been dropped directly into one of his most fevered fantasies, the reality of you in his arms finally eclipsing the years of longing. His lips found yours again, deeper and more possessive this time, as your left hand rose to cradle his right cheek, your skin feeling the rough heat of his stubble. Your right hand gripped his massive shoulder, your nails digging into the hard muscle as if trying to anchor yourself to the earth.

He didn't break the kiss as his left hand moved to the heavy, fur-collared cape at his shoulders. With a single, fluid motion, he discarded it, the heavy fabric falling to the marble floor with a dull thud.

The chamber was filled with the scent of leather and the warmth of his skin as his hand moved from your waist to hook under your right leg. With effortless, terrifying strength, he lifted you up completely. You let out a soft, sharp gasp, your legs instinctively circling his waist to hold on.

The motion brought you flush against him, your private parts rubbing together through the thin lace of your matching set and the heavy fabric of his trousers. The friction was delicious, a jolt of pure, unadulterated heat that made your toes curl and your head fall back against the door.

He groaned, his face faliing into your neck, his breath hot and frantic against your skin, his hands gripping your thighs with a possessive, crushing strength.

“My treasure,” he started, his voice dropping into a low rumble as he looked down at you, trying to use your dazed state to his advantage. “What is going on between you and my brother?”

He realized his mistake the second the question left his lips, but his pride—and that gnawing ache in his chest—wouldn't let him take it back.

The question hit you like a bucket of ice water. The haze of pleasure evaporated instantly, leaving you cold and vibrating with a sharp, sudden clarity. You stopped breathing for a heartbeat, the memory of his earlier cruelty in the corridor rushing back to drown out the heat of the moment.

Thor watched as you pulled away, the warmth of your skin replaced by a biting chill that seemed to seep into the room.

“Let me down, Thor,” you demanded, your voice flat and hard.

He furrowed his brows, his jaw tightening as he refused to loosen his grip. You hadn't answered him, and in his mind, your silence was a confession. The heat in his eyes shifted from desire to a dark, simmering hellfire. “You love him, then?”

“Thor—“

“You will not see him again,” he snarled, his hold on your legs tightening until it was almost painful. “I forbid you.”

You scoffed, a dry, incredulous sound. He was unbelievable. A possessive, arrogant hypocrite. “What if I do, Thor? You cannot forbid me from doing anything. You are not my owner.”

You fought against him, forcefully sliding your left leg down, then your right, until your feet hit the cold marble. He opened his mouth to roar back an answer, but you cut him off with a finger pointed at his chest.

“Before you open your mouth, be mindful of your words,” you snapped, your eyes flashing with a righteous fury. “You forbid me from seeing him while you have Jane? Might I remind you of that? I am merely mirroring your actions.”

You cleared your throat, the sound sharp in the quiet of the room. Thor looked like he had been struck, his face pale. “You don't understand, my sun—“

“I will go now,” you cut him off again, refusing to let him poison the air with more excuses. “Consider our wedding night done.”

He lifted his arm, reaching out to catch you, to pull you back into the heat, but you were faster. You kneeled down, sliding back into the star-spun silk of your wedding gown with practiced, frantic grace. You didn't even bother with the laces; you held the fabric against your chest, your dignity the only thing you had left.

You turned back to the massive doors, your hand gripping the handle.

“Where are you going?” he called out, his voice sounding broken, almost small.

You did not answer. You stepped out into the dark, silent corridor and slammed the heavy wood shut in his face. The sound echoed like a funeral bell. You were alone, half-dressed in the heart of the palace, and you had to find somewhere to sleep—anywhere that didn't smell like him.

—

You woke up to the morning sun creeping through the heavy curtains, the light feeling like needles against your skin. You winced, a dull ache throbbing behind your temples—a parting gift from the adrenaline and tears of the night before.

You weren't in the royal wing. You were in a guest room, tucked away in a quiet corner of the palace. One of your lady’s maids had found you in the corridor last night—shaking, half-undressed, and clutching your gown to your chest like a shield. She hadn't asked questions, for which you were eternally grateful; she had simply ushered you into this room with a hushed efficiency, shielding your shame from the rest of the court.

You were a married woman now. By all accounts, you should have been waking up to the warmth of a husband and the pride of your new title. You were the Princess of Asgard. But as you stared at the unfamiliar gold-leafed ceiling, the palace walls felt less like a home and more like a tomb closing in on you.

With a heavy sigh, you slid the silken covers aside. Your movements were slow, your body feeling weighed down by a leaden exhaustion. You sat up, sliding your legs over the edge of the bed, your feet meeting the cold, polished floor.

It was your honeymoon. In any other circumstance, this would be a time of celebration, of travel or private intimacy. But for you, the calendar was terrifyingly blank. Except for the breakfast today, there were no duties, no meetings with the Council, no diplomatic galas to hide behind. You had nothing to do but exist in the wreckage of your wedding night.

Usually, a lady’s maid would be fluttering about you now, readying the new bride for her first public appearance. But you didn't have the patience for their hushed whispers or the energy to endure their pitying glances. You had always been the architect of your own strength; no matter how much your world crumbled, you never let the cracks show.

Moving with a slow, deliberate grace, you settled for your own skillful hands. You reached for a chiffon lavender gown, the fabric soft and bruised like a twilight sky. You sat before the vanity, masking the exhaustion with practiced precision—a touch of shimmering eyeshadow to brighten your eyes, a sharp, regal wing of eyeliner to sharpen your gaze. You pinned your hair back until not a single strand was out of place, a crown of gold that felt more like armor. You looked at your reflection, decided it was enough, and stood. You wouldn't give Thor the satisfaction of seeing you ruined.

The Grand Hall of Asgard was a symphony of gold and morning light, but for you, it felt like a gilded cage. This was the “Morning of the Union,” a tradition you had always found archaic—the high society of Asgard gathered to scrutinize the newlyweds, hunting for any sign of weakness or discord.

Your gaze found him immediately. Thor was dressed in his royal finery, his golden hair caught in the morning light, looking every bit the hero-prince the realms worshipped. He was sitting stiffly in his ceremonial chair, his massive frame looking cramped and restless. Odin was leaning toward him, murmuring something in a low, stern tone.

The moment you entered his line of sight, Thor stopped listening to his father. His blue eyes locked onto yours, and for a heartbeat, the volatile anger from the night before was replaced by a look of raw, unadulterated hunger. He took in the way the lavender fabric clung to your curves and the way you held your head high despite the wreckage of your wedding night.

“The Princess has arrived,” Odin announced, his voice booming through the hall.

Thor stood up immediately, his chair scraping loudly against the stone. He stepped toward you, his hand outstretched as if he had every right to touch you, his presence filling the air with that familiar, heavy heat.

“You look...” he started, his voice a low rumble that lacked its usual bravado. He looked pained, as if seeing you so beautiful and yet so distant was a torture he couldn’t endure.

“I am here,” you said, your voice cool and perfectly level. You ignored his hand, moving past him to take your seat. “Let the tradition be served so we can be done with it.”

The rejection was visible. Thor’s hand curled into a fist before he sat back down, the air around him beginning to vibrate with a restless energy.

“Some honey for your bread, my sun?” He asked, his voice forced and unnervingly gentle as he reached for a jar.

“No, thank you, Prince Thor,” you replied, your voice as sharp as a Northern frost. You didn't even look at him, focusing instead on the steam rising from your tea.

Thor’s hand paused in mid-air. The use of his title was a slap to the face, a clear reminder that the intimacy of the previous night was dead and buried.

Across the table, Loki hid a smirk behind his cup of wine, his green eyes dancing with the chaos of it all.

The heavy doors of the hall swung open, and Commander Tyr entered. Tyr had been the one man who had almost convinced you that love was possible. He was tall, scarred, and had spent years trying to win your hand before suddenly—and mysteriously—withdrawing his interest three years ago. As he approached Odin to deliver his report, his eyes instinctively sought yours. There was a raw, aching longing in his gaze that hadn't faded with time.

As he bowed low before you now, his eyes lingered on the swell of your breasts beneath the chiffon, his gaze full of the regret of a man who had lost his greatest treasure.

“Princess,” Tyr murmured, his voice thick, bowing his head toward you with more reverence than he showed the All-Father. “May I offer my congratulations? Asgard has never seen a more radiant bride.”

The sound of metal snapping echoed through the hall.

You looked over to see that Thor had completely crushed the silver handle of his chalice. His knuckles were white, his blue eyes fixed on Tyr with murder written in them.

“The Commander's congratulations are noted,” Thor spat, his voice like grinding stones. He leaned toward Tyr, his presence suddenly suffocatingly large. “Now, I believe you have troops to inspect. Or have you forgotten your place in this court?”

Tyr stiffened, his hand flying to the hilt of his sword by instinct. “I meant no offense, My Prince. I was merely—“

“You were staring,” Thor interrupted, his voice dropping to a terrifying, quiet register that made the hair on your arms stand up. “And I have half a mind to gouge out those eyes for even thinking they are worthy of looking at her.”

The Hall went dead silent.

“Thor, be civil,” Frigga chided gently, but her eyes were worried.

You scoffed, finally turning to look at your husband. “He was being polite, Thor. Something you might want to practice. Tyr has always been a gentleman.”

Thor’s jaw set so hard you thought his teeth might break. He leaned in close, his scent of rain and heated metal surrounding you. “He is looking at you like he still has a right to you,” he hissed under his breath, so low only you could hear. “He was lucky I let him keep his head the first time he tried to touch you. I will not be so merciful a second time.”

You froze. What is he talking about?

The first time?

You looked at him, your heart skipping a beat. “What did you do to him three years ago?”

Thor turned his head toward you, his eyes turning into the ones of a madman. “He cannot look at what is mine,” he said, “I made sure he understood that you were never an option for the likes of him. I would have torn the Nine Realms apart before I let any other man put a ring on your finger. You were always going to be mine.”

The confession hit you like an explosion.

You finally came to the realization that every time a man courted you, after a while they left you. They always came up with a reason to stop seeing you.

Every single one of them. No matter how much time had passed, no matter how much they were into you—they always left you, one way or another.

For all this time you kept thinking there was something wrong with the way you were acting—not your looks, never your looks. You were painfully aware that you are drop dead gorgeous, so they were too.

And the very reason was incredibly close to you, but not you.

It was him.

It was fucking him.

He had been haunting your life for years, threatening every suitor behind your back before the both of you even knew you were promised to one another.

You were left gaping at him, your pulse hammering so violently in your throat it felt like it might choke you. Every rejection, every sudden disappearance of a man who had sworn his devotion—it all clicked into place with a sickening snap.

He didn't even look ashamed. Instead, he leaned in closer, his blue eyes searching yours with a chilling intensity. “Where were you last night?” he demanded, his voice dropping into a low, possessive growl. “Where did you sleep?”

It was as if he hadn't just admitted to systematically dismantling your entire personal life for years. You felt a sharp, disbelieving breath leave your lips. “Are you kidding me right now?”

Thor didn't blink, his expression dead serious. “As you can see, I am serious. Were you with Loki? Did you go to him?”

A jagged, hysterical laugh ripped from your throat. You were going out of your mind; the sheer audacity of his question, combined with the revelation of his long-term stalking, sent you into an angered state of pure disbelief.

His eyebrows furrowed at the sound of your laughter, his jaw tightening again. “I can’t believe you just fucking asked me that!” you hissed, leaning into his space until your noses nearly touched. “No, I wasn't with Loki, for gods' sake! You are mentally ill, Thor. You actually fucking chased all my suitors away? You sabotaged my life before you even had a claim to it?”

Thor didn't flinch. Instead, he released a long, relieved breath, his shoulders losing a fraction of their tension as if your lack of infidelity was the only thing that mattered.

“Yes, I did,” he said, his voice casual, as if he were discussing the weather rather than his obsession.

“You say it like it's no big deal!” you whispered, your hands curling into fists against the fine linen of the tablecloth. “You spent years isolating me, making me think I was the problem, while you were off doing whatever—whoever—you wanted!”

“I was ensuring my future,” he corrected, his voice hardening. “I was sure of what I wanted long before I knew the All-Father put it in a contract. I wasn't going to let some lesser man touch what belonged to me.”

“I am not an object, Thor!” you hissed, the words vibrating with a mixture of fury and a sudden, confusing rush of heat.

The realization that he hadn't been forced into this—that he had been actively, ruthlessly clearing the path to you for years—changed everything. It wasn't just a cold alliance or a burden he was forced to carry. He had wanted this. He had wanted you.

Thor’s gaze didn't waver. He didn't look like a man who had done something wrong; he looked like a man who had successfully defended his kingdom. “I never said you were,” he countered, his voice dropping into a private register as he leaned closer, his scent of rain and warm sandalwood drowning out the smell of the breakfast feast. “But you are my wife. And you have always been the only woman I intended to stand beside.”

You did not respond to him, not having the energy to do so, you merely turned your head from him.

Thor’s jaw tightened at your dismissal. He hadn't meant to lay his cards on the table so recklessly, but the sight of Tyr’s lingering gaze had acted like a spark in a powder keg. Now that the truth was out—that he had been the silent architect of your isolation, the shadow that scared away every man who dared to love you—he expected fire. He expected your sharp tongue to lash out and your anger to fill the hall.

He didn't expect this cold, hollow silence.

You now fully turned back to your plate, the lavender chiffon of your sleeves fluttering as you picked up your fork with a hand that trembled only slightly.

A part of you, a dark, hidden corner of your soul, reveled in the idea of being so fiercely desired that a God would sabotage the realms for you.

But the rest of you was drowning in the betrayal of it.

“You are not going to say anything?” Thor asked, his voice laced with a growing confusion.

He leaned toward you, his massive presence usually enough to command the attention of any room, but you remained a statue of ice. You took a slow bite of your meal, the food tasting like ash, but you chewed and swallowed as if he weren't there at all.

“Sunshine?” he tried again, his voice dropping an octave, sounding uncharacteristically small.

You finally looked up, but not with the fire he wanted. Your eyes were dead, reflecting the wreckage of a trust you hadn't even realized was being built. “What do you want me to say, Thor?” you asked, your voice a flat, dangerous whisper. “Please stop talking. I have no intention of listening to you. I do not want to hear a single thing out of your mouth. Stay away from me.”

You dropped your gaze back to your plate, effectively cutting the invisible thread between you.

Thor sat frozen, his hand still hovering near yours on the table. He was used to your snark, your temper, and your wit. He was used to the woman who fought him at every turn. But this silence? It made him feel hollow, as if he had finally won the prize he spent years fighting for, only to find he’d broken it in the process.

He watched you eat, his blue eyes searching your face for a crack in the silence. The persistent hum of his lightning felt subdued, replaced by a heavy, sinking weight in his chest. He had cleared the path to you, yes. He had ensured no other man would ever claim you. But as you sat there, refusing to even acknowledge his existence, Thor realized that owning your hand in marriage was nothing compared to the war he had just started for your heart.

—

Every word Thor had admitted played on a loop in your mind—a haunting, rhythmic reminder that your life had been curated by his hand long before you wore his ring. It was torture to realize that while you were questioning your own worth, wondering why every man you cared for eventually fled, he had been the one pulling the strings.

He was one lucky bastard; the royal arrangement had merely been the final piece of a puzzle he’d been building for years.

You were back in the main chambers now. The guest room had been a sanctuary for only one night, but the walls of the palace had ears, and the whispers had already begun.

The marriage is falling apart.

The new Princess isn't enough to hold the God of Thunder's interest.

They saw you as the problem, the weak link in the golden chain of Asgard.

You were in the middle of pulling on your brown leather armor, your movements sharp and fueled by a need to shed the damsel persona the court had forced upon you. You were in only your fitted leather pants and a simple bra when the heavy doors groaned open.

Thor barged in, his expression stormy and distracted, clearly not expecting to find you there. He froze in the doorway, the room suddenly thickening with a familiar, suffocating heat.

You hastily reached for your leather vest, sliding it on and buckling the straps with practiced, trembling fingers. You refused to let him see you vulnerable, not after he’d admitted to stalking your heart like prey.

“Apologies,” he said, his voice dropping into that gravelly register that always seemed to make your skin prickle. “I didn't think you’d be here.”

“I was just leaving,” you replied, your voice flat. You spared him no glance, focusing entirely on the silver fastenings of your gauntlets.

His gaze was roaming over you, taking in the sight of your arms and the way the rugged leather hugged your figure.

“What’s with the attire?” he asked, his eyes focused as they tracked the curve of your waist.

“Going to the training grounds, husband,” you replied, the title dripping with a cold, mocking irony.

“What will you do there?” he asked, sounding genuinely perplexed.

You paused, finally cutting your eyes toward him. “You must be unwell, Thor. I’m going to train, like I do in my spare time. What else would one do in the pits?”

He looked as if you had just spoken in a forgotten tongue. He hadn't expected this.

In all the years of his obsession, the years he spent lurking in your shadows and threatening your suitors, he had somehow remained blind to this part of you. He had seen the the radiant goddess in perfectly fitted dresses, but he had never imagined the warrior beneath.

“I thought...” He trailed off, his eyes dark with a sudden, surging interest. “I thought you only spent your time there to practice your magic with the healers.”

“Then you haven't been paying as much attention as you thought,” you snapped, grabbing your twin daggers from the bed and sliding them into the sheaths at your thighs.

The sight of the steel against your skin seemed to do something to him.

Thor’s breath hitched, his gaze fixed on your hands as you checked the blades. For a man who lived for the glory of battle, seeing his wife transition into a lethal force was a total system shock.

The blood was already beginning to rush to his southern regions, his pupils dilating as he watched you prepare for violence.

He had cleared the path to you because he wanted to protect you, to own you—but seeing you like this, ready to draw blood, made him realize he hadn't just married a wife.

He had married a match.

“I'm coming with you,” he stated, his voice now a commanding rumble.

“I told you at breakfast, husband,” you said, walking toward the door and forcing him to step back or be trampled. “Stay away from me.”

“And I did not ask, dear wife,” Thor countered, his voice an immovable rumble that vibrated through the stone floor beneath your boots. He didn't wait for your permission; he simply turned and followed you through the winding gold-leafed halls, his massive frame casting a long, imposing shadow that seemed to swallow your own.

He was like a guard dog, really—every time you took two faster steps, trying to outrun the heavy thud of his boots, he matched your pace effortlessly. It was like he was designed to expect the moves you were about to do before you.

He was half-crazed with the lingering feelings from the breakfast encounter, his mind clearly stuck on the way Tyr had dared to look at you, his left hand closing in a fist time to time.

The silence between you was suffocating, filled only by the sharp strike of your footsteps.

For all these years, you had lived under the crushing belief that he despised you—that you were a burden he was forced to bear. You had built walls of ice and practiced your sharpest wit to protect yourself from his perceived hatred, only to find out the situation was the exact opposite. He hadn't been avoiding you, he had been gatekeeping you, ruthlessly clearing the field until he was the only one left.

But the confusion still burned like acid in your throat. Then why has he gone to her? Why does he have her? You tried to swallow the lump of resentment, but the thought of that Midgardian woman consumed you, igniting a dark, territorial side of your soul you hadn't known existed.

He is my husband, you thought.

By law, by magic, and by his own admission. He is mine.

You shook your head, your hair whipping against your neck. Stop thinking. Just move.

You reached the training grounds, scent of dust and the metallic tang of clashing steel filling in your nostrils.

A few younger soldiers were already there, their bare torsos glistening with sweat as they sparred in the center pit.

The moment they caught sight of you in your rugged brown leather armor, the soldiers faltered. Their eyes traveled over the sharp, structured lines of your gear, the twin daggers strapped to your thighs, and the fierce, lethal beauty of your expression.

They were young, and their admiration was written plainly across their faces as they took in the sight of their new Princess looking ready for war.

Thor felt the air in his lungs turn to fire. His blue eyes swept the room, landing on each soldier with a look that promised a swift and painful end to anyone who let their gaze linger a second too long.

He stepped closer to you, his shoulder nearly brushing yours—his hand hovering over your waist, making it undeniably clear to everyone in the pits exactly who you belonged to.

He was breathing heavily, the sight of you in this environment, surrounded by men and dressed for violence, sending a surge of heat straight to his lungs. He had spent years obsessing over you from afar, but seeing you here, in his world of grit and steel, was more than his self-control could handle. He didn't just want to watch you train, he wanted to remind every man in Asgard that you were the one treasure they weren't even allowed to dream of touching.

You readied yourself, stepping into the center of the pit with a predatory grace. You scanned the line of younger soldiers, choosing one who looked particularly capable, and announced with a sharp, clear voice that you wanted to spar.

Their demeanors shifted, the soldiers stood straighter, their faces lighting up with a mixture of excitement and nerves at the prospect of testing their steel against the breathtaking new Princess.

But just as they were stepping forward, Thor held up his right hand. It was a silent, kingly command that froze every man in his tracks, his movements smug.

You rolled your eyes, the leather of your gear creaking as you shifted your weight. “Let me guess,” you said, your voice dripping with exhaustion at his relentless antics. “You want to be the one to spar with me.”

He smiled—that dashing, heart-stopping grin that had graced a thousand tapestries, the one that made you want to both kiss him and punch him in the jaw.

“Exactly, my love,” he rumbled, the endearment hitting you like a blow, making your heart stop for a treacherous beat. “You know me so well. I noticed we truly were made for each other.”

He was an arrogant, handsome asshole, and he knew it.

You forced your expression into a thin, reptilian smile, refusing to let him see how that name had affected you.

“Fine,” you said, your voice coming out as a dangerous purr. “But what I have truly noticed is that you are quite like a leech, husband. You never leave me to be.”

Thor’s eyes darkened at the insult, but the grin didn't leave his face. If anything, it grew more heated.

He began to unbuckle his own bracers, his gaze never leaving yours, tracking the way your chest heaved with suppressed rage. The soldiers scrambled out of the pit, sensing the tension radiating from the Prince.

“A leech?” Thor repeated, stepping into the dust of the ring. He moved toward you until you could feel the radiant heat coming off his body, the scent of rain thick enough to choke on. “I prefer to think of myself as a man who simply knows the value of what he holds. Now, draw your steel, wife. Let's see if that tongue is the only thing you have that cuts.”

“Hmm,” you hummed, “You will see,” the words a promise that vibrated in the small space between you.

Then, the dance began.

His crushing, immovable frame against your lethal, flickering speed. You moved like liquid , your daggers spinning in your palms as you sought the gaps in his defense.

Thor, usually the storm that broke the world, was uncharacteristically still. He couldn't think straight; the sight of you moving with such predatory grace, the leather of your gear creaking with every strike, had his mind clouded in a haze of heat and disbelief.

He didn't want to hurt you. He couldn't fight back—not truly. The thought of raising a hand to you in a violent way was an impossibility, a sacrilege he wouldn't commit.

Instead, he played a game of pure evasion. Every time you lunged, he drifted just out of reach, his large hands coming out not to strike, but to deflect. He caught your wrists with a touch that was too lingering, his palms grazing your skin in places that sent a jolt through your system, staggering your breathing.

Your expression twisted into one of pure irritation. “What do you think you're doing? Fight me back!” you snapped, your frustration boiling over. Your moves became more violent, your strikes faster and more desperate to draw blood, to make him acknowledge you as a warrior and not just a prize. You spun, a blur of steel and leather, forcing him to backtrack toward the edge of the pit.

You were a whirlwind, and for a moment, even the God of Thunder looked overwhelmed by the sheer, beautiful violence of your spirit.

But in your blind rage, the ground betrayed you.

Just as you pivoted to drive a hard kick into his chest, your ankle turned in a gut-wrenching, sickening snap. The sudden loss of balance sent you spiraling. In the frantic second of your fall, the dagger in your right hand sliced deep through your own thigh.

You hit the dirt hard. Thor had no time to catch you, the angle of your strike had kept him just far enough away that his reaching fingers only caught the air.

“Sunshine!” His voice tore through the training grounds.

He was on his knees beside you in an instant, his movements frantic, borderline hysterical. “Darling, are you alright?” His hand came up to graze your hair, his touch intimate and terrifyingly loving, his fingers trembling as they pushed the damp strands from your forehead.

You kept your eyes squeezed shut, your teeth gritted against the white-hot pain shooting from your ankle and the searing burn in your thigh.

The embarrassment was almost worse than the injury—you had come here to prove your strength, and instead, you were bleeding in the dust at his feet.

Thor looked down at your thigh, and suddenly, he couldn't breathe. The sight of your blood, red and vivid against the dark leather, put him into a sudden, agonizing trance.

The God of Thunder, who had stood amidst the slaughter of thousands without flinching, looked like his own soul was being carved out of his chest.

His eyes were wide, darting over your injury with a frantic, desperate guilt. It was his fault. If he hadn't followed you, if he hadn't provoked you, if he had just fought back like you asked, you wouldn't be broken on the floor. Every sharp intake of breath you took felt like a dagger in his own lungs.

“I've got you,” he choked out, his voice thick with desperate protectiveness that bordered on worship. “I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, my love.”

He didn't wait for a protest. He immediately hooked his right arm under your knees, his left one embracing your back, pulling you flush against the heat of his chest. He stood up in one fluid, powerful motion, cradling you as if you were made of the thinnest glass. He ignored the eyes of the younger soldiers, ignored the blood staining his front—the only thing that existed in his world was the weight of your pain, and the terrifying reality that seeing you hurt was a thousand times worse than any wound he had ever taken in battle.

Thor rushed you toward the royal chambers, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird of prey. The sound was deafening in the hollow of his chest as he sprinted, your weight in his arms feeling like both a blessing and a death sentence.

“Get the healers to our chambers! Immediately!” he roared, his voice a thunderous crack that echoed off the ceilings, sending servants and guards scrambling in his wake.

Your hands were circled tightly around his thick neck, your knuckles white as you clung to him for dear life. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, the familiar, intoxicating scent of rain and warm sandalwood grounding you, a small mercy against the agony pulsing through your leg.

But as the adrenaline began to fade, the tears finally formed. It wasn't just the physical pain of the gash or your ankle. It was everything. Every hidden threat he'd made to your suitors, the crushing weight of a marriage built on a shadow-plan, the betrayal of his Midgardian lover—it all came crashing down at once, a tidal wave of resentment and hurt that you could no longer hold back.

The moment his boots hit the soft rugs of your chambers, he set you down on the edge of the expansive bed with a tenderness that bordered on reverence. As he pulled back, he felt the dampness on his neck—your tears.

His chest tightened so sharply he nearly gasped, the air leaving his lungs at the sight of your fractured composure.

He had seen you angry, sharp, and defiant, but seeing you in so much pain that it broke your spirit made him feel like he was the one being cut.

His trembling hands reached out to cradle your face, his large thumbs gently brushing away the salt streak on your cheeks. “Does it hurt that much?” he choked out, his voice a whisper of desperation. “Please... please do not cry, my love. It is going to be okay. The healers are coming. You are going to be well.”

You let out a broken sob and shook your head.

“What? No, you will be okay,” he insisted, his eyes wide and searching yours, his own breathing coming in shallow, panicked bursts. “Do not shake your head at me, sunshine. You must be well.”

You shook your head again, a fresh wave of tears flowing faster down your cheeks, your breath hitching violently against the hand you held over your mouth to stifle the sound of your grief.

“No, Thor,” you managed to whisper, your voice thick and trembling. “It hurts—it hurts so much. But what hurts truly is my heart.”

Thor went completely still, his hands frozen against your skin as your words hung in the heavy air of the chamber. “Have I hurt you?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper, sounding genuinely broken—as if the mere thought were a blasphemy.

Before you could answer, the doors swung open and the healers rushed in, their silken robes trailing behind them in a blur of motion. They moved with a clinical, hushed urgency, but Thor didn't move. He sat on the edge of the bed, a massive, immovable mountain of muscle and guilt, acting as your only anchor while the magic began.

The lead healer placed a glowing hand over your shattered ankle. The sensation was immediate and agonizing—a white-hot surge of energy that felt like your bones were being liquified and restacked all at once. You let out a choked gasp, your back arching off the mattress as the physical trauma was forcefully undone.

Thor’s hand instantly found yours. His palm was rough and calloused, a stark contrast to the ethereal, cool hum of the magic, but his grip was the only thing keeping you grounded. “I have you,” he murmured, leaning over you until his face was all you could see, his eyes swimming with a reflection of your own pain.

“Squeeze my hand, sunshine. Break my bones if you must, but do not let go.”

As the magic knitted the torn flesh on your thigh, the stinging burn made your vision swim. You squeezed his hand with every ounce of strength you had left, your knuckles white, and he didn't even flinch. He watched every tremor of your muscles, every tear that escaped your lashes, his jaw set in a grimace that suggested he was feeling every single nerve ending fire right along with you. He looked like a man watching his world burn, utterly helpless to stop the flames.

Finally, the healers withdrew, their task finished. The room grew quiet again, the only sound the beat of your heart and the low crackle of the hearth. Thor remained, his thumb tracing the back of your hand in a slow, rhythmic circle.

He gulped, the column of his throat moving as he searched for his voice.

“Are you feeling better?” he asked, his eyes bloodshot and weary.

You took a deep, shuddering breath, the physical pain replaced by a definite clarity. “I do, yes. Thank you.”

But you couldn't do this anymore. You couldn't live in this state of whiplash—one moment he was the possessive shadow sabotaging your suitors, and the next he was the tender husband holding you through the agony of a broken bone. All while his heart, his true affection, allegedly laid elsewhere. You slowly withdrew your hand from his, the loss of his warmth feeling like a physical bruise.

“I cannot do this, Thor,” you said, your voice gaining a terrifying, quiet strength. “I would like to separate our rooms. I will fulfill my duty. I will bear your heirs and I will be a good Queen to Asgard when the time comes, but I can never be your wife. You have hurt me too much.”

You began to struggle to your feet, determined to put distance between your bodies, but Thor’s hands were on your shoulders in an instant, holding you back. He looked taken aback, his confusion rapidly turning into a defensive, volatile spark.

“Where do you think you're going?” he demanded, his grip tightening just enough to keep you in place. “What is this about? Is this about that fucker Tyr again? Or Loki? Have they filled your head with—“

“It's about Jane, you idiot!” you screamed, the name tearing out of you like a piece of glass.

Thor stared at you for a heartbeat, his hands still firm on your shoulders, looking at you like you had truly lost your mind.

“Who told you about her? And why do you keep bringing her up?” he demanded, his voice confused.

Your expression only grew more furious, the tears hot and stinging against your cheeks. “She is your mortal lover! Of course I bring her up! How am I supposed to be a wife to a man whose heart is buried in the dirt of Midgard?”

Thor looked at you for a beat, his eyes wide, and then he started laughing.

It wasn't a soft chuckle. He was hysterically laughing, his massive frame shaking so hard he had to release your shoulders to hold his stomach. He doubled over, the sound echoing off the golden walls of the chamber as if you had just told the most ridiculous joke in the history of the Nine Realms.

“Why are you laughing?” you snapped, your voice cracking with fresh humiliation. “Is this funny to you? My pain is a joke to you?”

Thor bit his lower lip, a rogue dimple flashing as he tried to keep himself from laughing further. He took a deep, shuddering breath and looked at you, his blue eyes bright with a terrifying clarity.

“My love,” he rumbled, his voice thick with an intensity that made the hair on your arms stand up. “Jane hasn’t been in my life for years. Do you truly think I could ever get over you?”

He stepped back into your space, his heat enveloping you as he reached out to tuck a stray hair behind your ear. “I threatened every man that came near you. I sabotaged your life, I haunted your shadows, I am obsessed with you. She doesn’t even come close. She was merely a distraction to keep my obsession for you in line.”

He leaned down, his face inches from yours, his presence drowning out everything else. “Which failed miserably, by the way. She was only there when my father cast me away to Earth. I couldn't live with the thought of not seeing you, of being separated from the one person I’ve wanted since I first understood the word. I tried to distract myself with a mortal heart, but it was like trying to put out a forest fire with a single drop of rain.”

He confessed it all now, his pride completely stripped away, leaving only the ugly truth of his devotion.

Wait.

The realization hit you, making your head spin.

All those nights spent in silent agony, all the rage you felt whenever you thought of her, all the distance you had put between you and your husband because of a phantom—it was for nothing?

You had been obsessing over a woman who was a footnote in a story where you were the entire book.

Thor watched the realization dawn on your face, his expression shifting from amusement to something much darker and hungrier. He saw the way your walls were crumbling, the way your breath was hitching not from pain, but from the sheer shock of his honesty.

“There is no one else,” he whispered, his hand sliding from your face to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair. “There never was. Every battle I fought, every suitor I broke, every breath I took was a step closer to making you mine. You really think I’d let a memory stand between us?”

Your mouth was agape as the weight of your own assumptions crashed down around you.

You sat up straighter, slinging your legs over the edge of the bed despite the lingering throb in your ankle.

“I didn't even let you explain,” you whispered, the regret dripping out of every syllable, thick and heavy.

Thor nodded, shrugging his massive shoulders as a playful, slightly smug expression scrunched his face. “Yeah, that’s on you,” he rumbled.

“Not really my fault you wouldn’t listen.” He let out a soft huff of a laugh then, his gaze softening as it traveled over your face. “I've always liked that you're a difficult woman, though. Comes with the package, I guess.”

He moved with a sudden, quiet grace, kneeling down on the rug beside the bed so he was eye-level with you.

He looked like a king who had finally found his throne—not on a chair of gold, but right here at your feet.

“I'm sorry, baby,” you said, the endearment slipping out naturally as your hands found his handsome face. Your thumbs grazed over his high cheekbones, feeling the slight stubble and the heat of his skin.

Thor’s eyes fluttered shut at the contact. He leaned into your palms with a low, visceral groan, looking like a man who needed your touch every second of the day just to keep his heart beating.

He looked vulnerable, stripped of the God of Thunder's bravado, appearing only as a man who was utterly consumed by the woman in front of him.

“And for your information,” you added, your voice regaining a hint of its usual spark, “Loki basically is my sibling. I have no idea how you could think I could be in love with him when there is you.”

Thor opened his eyes at that, the blue depths swirling with a mix of relief and that same possessive fire.

A slow, triumphant smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth.

“I know,” he whispered, his hands coming up to cover yours, pinning your palms against his cheeks as if he never intended to let you pull away again. “But I told you, I’m not rational when it comes to you. I see a man breathe the same air as you and I want to tear the world apart. Imagine how I feel when it's my own brother's manipulative tongue whispering in your ear.”

He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your lips. “Say it again,” he commanded softly. “Tell me there is only me.”

“There’s only you, my love,” you whisper against his skin, the confession tasting like a surrender you’ve been fighting for years. “There’s only ever been you.”

Thor lets out a sound that is half-groan, half-growl, his large hands sliding up to grab your thighs with a firm, possessive heat. He’s careful, his touch mindful of the newly healed flesh on your leg, but the look in his eyes is anything but gentle. He hums deep in his throat, a vibration you feel in your own chest.

“Now that,” he rumbles, his voice laced with a sudden, surging hunger, “does something to me.”

He claims your lips before you can breathe, his kiss tasting of desperate relief and a decade of suppressed longing. You circle your arms around his massive shoulders immediately, pulling him closer, but the cold, unyielding bite of his silver-plated armor creates a barrier you can't stand.

You need to feel him—all of him.

You pull back just an inch, your breath coming in shallow hitches. Thor’s eyebrows knit together, his head instinctively following your lips as you retreat, looking like a man who’s been denied water in a desert.

“Baby,” you breathe, your hands tugging at the leather straps and metal buckles. “Take your armor off. It’s annoying me.”

Thor’s expression shifts, a slow, devilish smirk spreading across his face. “You’re in a rush to get me naked, my lady?” he tsked, a playful glint in his blue eyes. “Very naughty.”

You slap him lightly on the chest, a muffled thud against the metal, and he lets out a booming, triumphant laugh. He stands up, his movements quick and fluid as he unclips his heavy crimson cape, letting it pool on the floor like a spill of wine. He works the fastenings of his chest piece with practiced ease, discarding the silver plating until it clatters beside the bed.

When he finally turns back to you, his torso is bare, his trousers hanging dangerously low on his hips. You bite your lip, your gaze traveling over the rugged landscape of his body.

The sharp, deep V-line of his hips, the massive shoulders that look like they could shield you from the dangers of the entire universe, and arms the size of your head—he is a deity, through and through, carved from gold and lightning.

The sight makes your pulse spike making heat flare in your gut. You hold out your hands impatiently, your fingers flexing as you demand him back in your space.

A low chuckle vibrates from his chest as he sees the hunger in your eyes. He moves toward you, the air around him crackling with that familiar electric charge.

“Come on, come here,” you urge, your voice dropping into a desperate purr. “I can't wait to get my hands on my handsome husband.”

Thor doesn't need to be told twice. He crowds back into your space, his bare skin meeting yours for the first time, the contact sending a shock through your system that has nothing to do with magic and everything to do with the man who has haunted your soul since the beginning.

Thor’s hands were like brands against your skin, his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass cheeks as he hoisted you effortlessly, laying you back against the silk sheets with a controlled power.

The bed groaned under his weight as he settled between your thighs, his massive frame a golden canopy over you. You let out a small, breathless squeal at the suddenness of his manhandling, your heart hammering against your ribs. It was intoxicating—the sheer strength of him finally directed entirely at you.

He shifted, his hands sliding up from your hips to rest flat against your stomach, the heat of his palms seeping through your skin. His blue eyes were dark, swirling with a possessive storm as he looked down at you.

“You would like to live our wedding night now, baby?” he asked, his voice a gravelly vibration that made your toes curl.

You nodded almost immediately, your teeth sinking into your lower lip as the anticipation turned into a physical ache. You were eager—desperate—to finally feel the full heat of him, to have him fill the space you’d been saving for him without even knowing it.

His left thumb moved with agonizing slowness, hooking over your chin to tug your lower lip free from your teeth. “Those lips are mine to bite,” he growled, a warning and a promise all at once.

He didn't give you time to breathe before he descended, taking your lower lip between his own, sucking and then nipping with a sharp, controlled hunger that made you mewl into his mouth. Your hands flew to his back, your nails grazing the hard muscle of his spine as you tried to pull him even closer.

He didn't miss a beat, one of his hands moving to the buckles of your leather training vest. He worked them with efficiency, the leather creaking as he began to discard the barrier.

You were high on him—on the scent of his skin, the weight of his body. Oh, he was so heavy and it felt so, so good to be underneath him.

Thor’s mouth was a searing trail of fire against your skin, his open-mouthed kisses leaving a damp, heated map from your jawline down to your collarbone. You arched beneath him, your fingers tangling in his thick hair as his tongue glided over the curve of your chest, sending jolts of electricity straight to your core. The uncontrolled mewls escaping you only seemed to fuel him, his breathing turning into a ragged, desperate sound.

When he finally unhooked your bra and tossed it aside, his reaction was visceral. He froze for a heartbeat, his blue eyes blown wide as he took in the sight of you completely bared to him.

“Oh gods,” he murmured, the words sounding like a prayer. He didn't wait another second, leaning down to take your right nipple into his mouth. The sensation of his hot tongue and the slight friction of his stubble made you cry out, your head snapping back against the bed. His right hand wasn't idle, his large palm covering your left breast, kneading the soft flesh with a possessive rhythm that made your vision swim.

“These are the most beautiful pair of tits I’ve ever seen, sunshine,” he growled against your skin, his voice vibrating deep in your chest. “You’re unreal. I must be dreaming.”

He began a slow, agonizing descent, his kisses trailing over the underside of your breasts and down the center of your ribs. He lingered at your stomach, his tongue swirling around your navel until you were squirming beneath him, your hands clutching at his shoulders for purchase.

He stopped at the waistband of your leather trousers, his large hands gripping your waist so firmly it felt like he was branding you. He looked up at you one more time, his face flushed with a primal, focused hunger, before he hooked his fingers into the leather and the panties beneath them.

With a fast-paced, impatient rhythm, he began to tug the pants down over your hips. The sound of the leather sliding against your skin was loud in the quiet room, punctuated only by the heavy, frantic thuds of your hearts. He stripped the barrier away, his gaze following the movement with a terrifying precision, as if he were finally uncovering the most sacred relic in the Nine Realms.

He was trembling now, the legendary restraint of the God of Thunder finally snapping as he prepared to see every single inch of what he had spent a lifetime claiming.

The gasp that left your lips was sharp and desperate as the cool air of the chamber hit your dampened core, sending a shiver of anticipation through your entire frame. You reached out blindly, your fingers tangling in the silk bedsheets and knotting them into tight balls as Thor pulled back just enough to take you in.

He was entirely focused now, his gaze anchored between your legs. You could see the frantic twitch of the heavy bulge beneath his trousers, his own body reacting violently to the sight of you completely bared and glistening for him. He looked like a man standing at the edge of a precipice, ready to fall.

“I can't wait to taste you, pretty girl,” he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly rasp. He wasn't even looking at your face; his words were directed solely at the center of your heat, talking to your pussy as if it were the only thing in the universe that mattered.

The sheer, possessive reality of it—the way he spoke to you like you were his favorite sin—sent a fresh surge of wetness down your thighs.

You stopped breathing entirely when his large, calloused hands hooked firmly under your knees. With a surge of effortless strength, he lifted your legs, draping them over his massive shoulders until you were completely open, vulnerable, and perfectly positioned for him.

Without sparing a glance at your face, he dived in.

The first contact was a long, slow lick—a broad stripe of fire that traveled from your entrance all the way up to your clit. You cried out, your back arching off the mattress as his lips followed, suctioning tightly over that sensitive bundle of nerves.

His tongue flicked with a rhythmic, torturous precision, his mouth a hot, wet vacuum that seemed intent on drawing every secret from your body. Your hands gripped the sheets until your knuckles turned white, your hips stuttering upward in a frantic, instinctive search for more of that devastating friction.

“Stop squirming,” he growled directly into your heat, the command vibrating through your sensitive flesh and sending a fresh jolt of electricity straight to your spine. His voice, muffled by your own wetness, made your hips stutter uncontrollably as a broken moan tore from your throat.

Thor’s massive hands clamped onto your hips like iron bands, his fingers digging into your skin to hold you perfectly still.

He wasn't having it; he wanted to devour you, to map every inch of your sweetness without you slipping away.

Driven by a desperate need to see him, you strained your neck, lifting your head from the where it was laying.

The sight was downright sinful.

The God of Thunder was buried between your thighs, his golden hair messy and his jaw glistening. He looked up at you then, his pupils blown so wide they swallowed the blue of his irises, his tongue never once slowing its rhythmic, punishing assault on your clit. The contrast of his primal, predatory gaze against the worshipful way he used his mouth was too much to bear.

The tension in your core snapped. Your head fell back into the mattress as the first wave of a violent orgasm took hold of you. You were helpless, your body trembling in his grip as high-pitched mewls spilled out of you, echoing off the high ceilings of the chamber.

He didn't pull away. Instead, he leaned into the climax, his suction deepening as he drank in the evidence of your pleasure, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your hip bones while his mouth stayed ruthlessly attached to you, making sure you felt every agonizingly perfect second of the release.

He didn't let up. As the first wave of your climax began to plateau, he kept going, his tongue flickering with a relentless, overstimulating rhythm that had your nerves screaming.

“Thor, please—“ you gasped, trying to squirm away from the sheer intensity of his touch, but his grip was absolute.

“C'mon,” he rumbled against your inner thigh, his voice thick and dark. He didn't stop the assault. “You can give me one more, my love. I have to prepare you properly.”

He removed his left hand from your hip and, without a second's hesitation, drove his middle finger deep inside you, his finger sliding in easily—your juices helping him. Your mouth fell open, but no sound could escape; you were physically stunned by the intrusion. Even a single finger was massive, stretching you with a blunt force that made your breath hitch in your throat.

He didn't give you time to adjust before he added his ring finger, the metal of his wedding band a cold, sharp contrast to the searing warmth of your insides. The sensation was a violent reminder of the reality you had tried so hard to ignore.

You had forgotten about the rings—the gold and silver symbols of a contract you’d thought was a cage. But as that band slid in and out of you, slick with your own wetness, the truth crashed down: you had a husband. A real, living, breathing husband who was currently unraveling you on your bed.

His right hand moved then, his fingers spreading your pussy lips wide to get a better angle, his tongue returning to your clit with a renewed, suctioning fervor.

The combination of his massive fingers stretching you and the possessive, territorial thoughts of him finally claiming you was the tipping point.

The heat in your belly flared back into a white-hot roar. You were drowning in him, in the weight of his name and the feel of his ring inside you. Your back arched so high it nearly left the bed, your legs shaking on his shoulders as you came a second time, a broken cry finally tearing from your lungs as you collapsed back into the bed, completely conquered by him.

Thor lapped up the remnants of your release with a slow, deliberate swipe of his tongue, a deep, vibrating moan rumbling through his chest and into your very bones. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his face slick and his eyes burning with a primal satisfaction.

“You taste so good, my treasure,” he rasped, the endearment sounding like a heavy vow in the quiet of the room.

Your mind was a thick, syrupy haze of pleasure, and the only thing you could manage was a breathless, “Thank you—oh!”

The words were cut short as he pressed his thumb firmly against your oversensitive clit, a sharp jolt of electricity snapping through you. He chuckled, a dark, rich sound. “No need to thank me, darling. Thank you for letting me have a taste of you.”

Then, he stood at the edge of the bed. His eyes never left yours as he reached for the fastening of his trousers. He moved agonizingly slow, the fabric rustling as it dropped, and your breath hitched. His cock sprang free the moment the pressure was gone—thick, heavy, and pulsing with a life of its own. A bead of precum glistened at the pink tip, gliding down the length of his shaft which stood rigid against his stomach, the veins standing out like marble carvings.

A sudden, genuine wave of panic flickered through your desire.

How was he going to fit that in me?

Thor didn't miss the way your eyes widened or the thoughtful, slightly terrified gaze you fixed on him. He leaned back over you, his shadow swallowing you whole. “What’s wrong, baby?”

You looked up at his face, your voice small and trembling. “How is that going to fit in me?”

Thor’s eyes slid shut for a heartbeat, his jaw tightening so hard you heard his teeth grind. That was the most erotic thing he had ever heard—the admission of your own smallness against him, the raw vulnerability of your question. It was making his self-control fray at the edges, the scent of your arousal and the sight of your doubt driving him to the brink of madness.

He cleared his throat, his voice dropping into a register so low it was almost a growl. “It’ll fit, sunshine. We’ll make it fit.”

He moved back into your space, crawling over you until his massive weight was hovering just above, his heat radiating like a furnace. He cradled your face in his large, calloused hands, his thumbs stroking your cheekbones with a tenderness that contradicted the sheer size of the man.

“You were made for me, remember?” he whispered, his forehead pressing against yours. “Your body was built to hold mine. Every inch of you was designed for this.”

You looked up into those blown-out blue eyes and nodded, a silent surrender passing between you. He wasn't just your husband; he was the force of nature you were destined to house, and as he guided his tip to your entrance, the first touch of his heat against your opening made you realize he was right. You were his, and he was finally coming home.

“Go slow, please,” you whispered, the words trembling against the heat of his skin as you braced yourself.

Thor didn't rush. He moved with a deliberate, torturous patience, gliding the head of his cock between your pussy lips. He used his own length to paint himself in your juices, the slick friction sending sparks of pleasure through your already sensitive core. You let out a broken moan at the way he dragged himself over your clit, the sensation almost too much to bear.

He groaned, a low, guttural sound that vibrated in his massive chest. His left hand moved to the inside of your right thigh, his fingers digging in with a firm, possessive grip to keep you pinned wide, refusing to let you close your legs or hide from him. His right hand wrapped around the base of his shaft, guiding himself with a predatory focus.

Then, he started slapping the head of his cock against your clit. The rhythmic, blunt impact made your eyes roll back into your head, your hips jerking upward in a desperate search for friction.

“You like this, baby?” he asked, his voice dark and honey-thick. He didn't stop the rhythm, the wet slap of his skin against yours echoing in the quiet chamber. “Like me slapping your clit like this? Knowing I’m about to stretch you wide?”

“Mmm,” you murmured, the sound caught in your throat. “Yes—so much,” you mumbled, breathless and completely unstrung by his dominance.

When he was satisfied, his entire length coated and glistening in your heat, he centered himself at your entrance. He paused, his blue eyes locking onto yours with a gaze that felt like a brand. The air in the room seemed to vanish.

“I’m going to make you feel so good, sunshine,” he promised, the vow vibrating between you.

You could only nod, your fingers digging into his hard shoulders as he finally began to push. He moved with agonizing slowness, the blunt head of his cock forcing its way past your entrance. You gasped as the air left your lungs, your body stretching and yielding to accommodate his impossible size.

Every inch was a victory, a slow invasion that filled you to the absolute brim, claiming every internal curve until you felt completely occupied by him. It was a pressure so intense it bordered on pain, but as he seated himself fully against you, the feeling of being made whole by him was the only thing that mattered.

Thor let out a jagged, guttural gasp as he was fully sheathed within you, his chest heaving as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. He went completely still for a long moment, his muscles corded and trembling, giving your body the time it needed to accommodate the staggering breadth of him. He felt like a molten pillar of iron, stretching you to your absolute limit.

When he finally pulled back to look at you, his blue eyes were dark with a terrifying, primal clarity. “You know what else I am the god of, my love?”

Your pleasure-knitted gaze was hazy, your mind a swirl of friction and heat. “What?” you whispered, the word barely audible over the frantic thud of your heart.

“I am the god of fertility,”he rumbled, the confession vibrating through your joined bodies like a low roll of thunder.

Then, he began to move.

It was agonizingly slow, a torturous pull and a devastatingly deep push that felt like it was reaching into your very soul. Every thrust was calculated to maximize the friction, to claim every internal inch of you for his own. “Mhm—“ you managed to cry out, your breath hitching as the sheer depth of him overwhelmed your senses.

You reached up, your hands leaving his shoulders to circle his thick neck, pulling him down to bridge the final distance between you. You met his lips with a desperate hunger, your tongues tangling in a messy, heated rhythm that mirrored the steady, relentless pace of his hips. He was fucking you with a slow, deliberate violence, a rhythmic worship that made the world outside the bed disappear.

He pulled back just enough to look at your face, his right hand sliding down from the mattress to rest flat against your lower abdomen. He smiled—a dark, knowing expression that made your stomach flip.

“What?” you frowned, your voice thick with a mix of confusion and mounting pleasure.

Thor didn't answer with words. He took your hand and positioned it directly where his had been, pressing your palm firmly against the soft skin of your belly.

You felt it instantly—the hard, undeniable bulge of his shaft moving beneath the surface of your skin, a physical ghost of his presence inside you.

“Oh fuck,” you breathed, your eyes blowing wide as you felt him sliding in and out of you through your own stomach.

“You feel me here, baby?” he rasped, his thrusts deepening as if he were trying to reach your hand from the inside.

“Yes... yes, I do— How can I not?“ Your breath caught in your throat as he bottomed out, his weight pinning you into the mattress.

“I'm gonna fill you with so many babies, sunshine,” he confessed, the raw, possessive promise hitting you with more force than his hips.

The thought sent a violent jolt through your system, and you felt your internal muscles clench around him in a desperate, instinctive grip.

“Fuck,” Thor groaned, his eyes rolling back as he felt the sudden, crushing pressure. “You’re gripping me so tight. That has you going, darling? The thought of carrying my babies? Of me marking you so deeply that everyone knows who you belong to?”

“It does,” you gasped, nodding your head frantically against the sheets, your hair a wild halo around your face. Every word he spoke was a match flickering against the gasoline of your desire.

“Say it.”

He punctuated the command by slapping his fingers against your overstimulated clit. The sharp friction sent a jolt of pain-filled pleasure through you, making you squeal, your hips bucking instinctively.

“Say you want to carry my babies.”

He was dismantling you, burning you from the inside out with a heat that felt ancient and inevitable. “I—“ you gasped, your voice breaking as he drove into you again, reaching depths that made your vision white out. “I want to carry your babies—I wanna have your babies. Only yours. Only you, Thor.”

He gripped your hips then, his fingers bruising the skin as he began slamming into you with a new urgency. The slow, worshipful pace was gone, replaced by the raw, territorial rhythm of a man who was finally, legally, and physically claiming what was his.

“I will fill you up so good, my love. Don't you worry about that,” he rumbled, his voice a dark promise.

As he pounded into you, he began to circle his thumb over your clit with a ruthless, rhythmic pressure. It was the final blow to your composure. “Come, sunshine. Come for me. Come for your husband.”

That was it. The world shattered.

You came with a violence that left you breathless, your internal walls milking his cock in tight, rhythmic pulses that forced a guttural, animalistic roar from his throat.

You screamed his name, not the name of a Prince or a God, but the name of the man who held your soul, as your fingers dug deep into the muscles of his back, drawing thin red lines across his skin.

“Oh fuck—“

Thor’s body went rigid. He buried himself as deep as he could possibly go, his head snapping back as he came into you. You felt the searing heat of him filling you to the brim, a flood of warmth that made your stomach feel heavy and claimed.

The sensation was overwhelming—the physical proof of his promise—and as he finally slumped against you, his cum began to drip from your filled hole, staining the silk sheets beneath you.

The silence that followed was heavy and sweet, broken only by the sound of your combined, ragged breathing. After a moment, Thor pushed himself up on his elbows, his face flushed and his blue eyes shining with a softness you hadn't seen in years.

He reached out, his thumb gently hooking under your chin to lift your face. He looked deep into your eyes, his expression raw and stripped of all the possessive shadows.

“I'm in love with you, sunshine,” he whispered, the words sounding more powerful than any thunderclap. “Truly. Deeply. Only you.”

You looked back at him, the resentment and the phantom of another woman finally fading into nothingness. You reached up, threading your fingers through his damp hair, and pulled him down to you.

“I love you too, husband,” you breathed against his lips, before sealing the vow with a kiss that tasted of a new, true beginning.

—

My first filthy smut kinda nervous, I’d be so happy if guys left any feedback 💕

Masterlist

[smgespn]

Not So Much

Masterlist

Pairing: Thor Odinson X Reader

Summary: He was your teammate but also the person you disliked the most in the universe. He was always loud, he thrived on impulsive decisions, and he loved annoying you. You were the opposite, you moved through shadows quietly, analyzed every move before you made them. And now? They were sending you on a mission with him. Just the two of you. As husband and wife.

Content: Fake Marriage, Enemies To Lovers, Forced Proximity, Yearning, Tension, Slow Burn, Angst, Infinity War-Endgame Thor, King Thor, Protective Thor, Jealous Thor, Possessive Thor, Jealous Reader, They Are Touching Each Other Every Chance They Get, Bickering Final Boss, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Explicit SMUT (It starts from '—', and ends with it so you can skip it if you want)

Word Count: 40k

Note: I live for annoying but sweet Thor 😭 His most dominant personality traits i swear and the way he gets angry FAST😛 My mannn fr (took me a whole month to write this, not proofread sorry for any typos or mistakes)

Minors Do Not Interact

—

You wanted to kill him.

You wanted, with every fiber of your being, to wrap your hands around his thick, infuriating neck and choke the life out of him right there on the polished marble floor of the Avengers Compound kitchen. It was a beautiful, violent fantasy that played in your mind in vivid detail—but unfortunately for you, the man was a damn god, and your fingers would probably snap before his airway even constricted.

“I said no, Thor. I got here first,” you hissed, your voice a sharp, venomous whisper as you slammed your shoulder into his side, trying to forcefully shove his massive frame away from the espresso machine.

The sleek chrome appliance sat on the counter like a holy grail, reflecting the harsh morning light. At this ungodly hour, that single machine was the only thing bonding your soul to the realm of the living. You just loved your morning coffee too much. It was the one ritual that made your life feel somewhat normal. And he, as always, was standing squarely in the way—demanding, with all the unearned arrogance of Asgardian royalty, that he be the first one to use it.

“Stop pushing me away, will you? It does nothing but tickle me, Little Flame,” he grumbled, a deep sound that came from somewhere deep in his broad chest.

He didn't even look at you, his eyes fixed on the digital screen of the machine as his large hands came down to carelessly pry your fingers off his waist. Your eyes narrowed into lethal slits, the heat rising in your cheeks at the sound of the ridiculous nickname and the casual condescension dripping from his tone.

“I have been telling you for years, Thor, stop calling me that,” you snapped, pulling your hands back and crossing them over your chest in a furious, protective stance. “And what is that supposed to mean? Are you implying that I’m weak?”

Thor finally turned his head, his short, textured blonde hair catching the fluorescent lights. A lazy, incredibly punchable smirk broke across his handsome face. He held his massive, heavily muscled arm out horizontally, creating an unbreakable physical barrier that completely blocked you from reaching the coffee pods.

“Why? I think it rather suits you. Feisty little—”

Before he could finish the sentence, you slapped his forearm with a loud, resounding smack, grabbing his wrist with both hands and pulling down with all your weight, trying to rip his arm away from the machine. It was like trying to move a mountain with a piece of string.

“Weaker than me, surely,” he said, his smirk widening as he easily kept his arm locked in place against your full-body strain.

Okay, fine. He was stating a cold, unyielding fact. He was a cosmic entity. He was objectively, biologically stronger than you. Your cell structure had been locked in a permanent, un-aging loop by a rogue lab experiment, giving you endless youth and an unbreakable healing factor—not the brute strength to wrestle the God of Thunder. But you would rather walk barefoot on needles than ever admit his physical superiority to his face.

“What are you two bickering about again?”

Natasha’s exhausted, monotone voice sliced through the tension. She walked into the kitchen, holding an empty mug, her green eyes fixed on the two of you with the heavy, soul-deep weariness of a woman who was entirely done with you being at each other's throats every five minutes.

That was the true tragedy of your existence. Outside the reinforced walls of this compound, Thor was a global icon. He was the golden savior, a benevolent, charming god who was nice to every single human being he encountered. If you went to the press and told them how much he absolutely loved to torment, provoke, and annoy you on a daily basis, not a single soul on Earth would believe you. To the rest of the universe, he was a god. To you, he was a giant, golden-retriever-brained nuisance.

Your left eye literally twitched with fury as you whipped your head around to face Nat. “He’s being a child again!”

“I am only in need of my morning beverage—” Thor protested smoothly.

“I got here first!” You spun back toward him, throwing your hands up in the air, your eyes wide with erratic anger.

“And I will be drinking my coffee, first,” he replied with a smug tilt of his chin.

Before you could lunge forward to block him, his large fingers immediately darted past your face and pushed the start button. The machine whirred to life, a dark stream of espresso pouring directly into the ceramic cup you had painstakingly selected and placed there a minute ago.

Thor watched the liquid fill the mug, leaning his hip against the counter as he grabbed the handle. “See? Easy as that,” he mumbled, grinning straight into the steam as he took a slow, loud, deliberate sip right in front of your face.

Your face went a furious, burning red. Your breath hitched, your vision blurring with a wave of pure, chaotic rage. You wanted to grab that hot mug straight out of his hand and throw the boiling liquid right over his clean grey t-shirt. You wanted to watch the stain spread across his chest while you laughed in his face.

Honestly? That was a damn good idea. Your muscles coiled, your fingers twitching as you prepared to lunge at him and commit a felony.

But just as your sneakers gripped the tile, Natasha let out a sharp, interrupting sigh. “The team is waiting for you in the briefing room,” she said, turning on her heel and gesturing toward the sliding glass doors of the hallway. “Let’s go, lovebirds.”

The words cut through the kitchen like a sudden frost. You and Thor both froze instantly, the childish hostility evaporating into a stunned, icy paralysis.

“What?” you said in perfect unison. The word tore from your throats at the exact same second, your voices blending together as you both whipped your heads around to look at Natasha. But she didn't stop to explain—she simply walked down the corridor toward the war room, a wicked, knowing smirk playing on the corner of her lips as she left the two of you standing in the quiet kitchen, completely blindsided by the ominous weight of her words.

“Fucking weirdos everywhere,” you grumbled under your breath.

Before he could even swallow his next stolen sip, you forcefully jammed your palms right into the center of his chest. You used every single ounce of strength your muscles could muster up, throwing your entire body weight into the strike. You needed that damn coffee, and you would get that damn coffee.

Thor actually stumbled back a step, a booming chuckle ripping from his throat at the absolute volatility of your expression. You were completely furious. He honestly had no idea why annoying you brought him such immense satisfaction, but it did. It was an addiction at this point.

In his eyes, you were just absolutely no fun. From the very first day he met you, you had done nothing but jab at him for being too loud and obvious. You were always rolling your eyes, saying things like, “You only know how to smash things and be reckless, Thor,” and “Stealth is an actual concept, you know?”

Now, Thor didn't dislike a lot of people. He was a damn lovable person—the golden boy of the Nine Realms, and now, an absolutely attentive king. But when it came to you? He couldn't help it. You rubbed him the wrong way all the damn time, your sharp tongue grating on his nerves. He could say with absolute, unyielding certainty that he disliked you. A lot.

You were still grumbling under your breath about him stealing your favorite ceramic mug when you noticed his massive shadow was still hovering directly over you.

“Why are you still here?” you asked, your voice coming out far more irritated than it should have. You internally cursed yourself; you were giving him way too much power over your emotions.

“I simply want to watch you sip on your beverage after me,” he said, flashing you a brilliant, smug smile.

You huffed, grabbing your freshly poured cup from the machine. “Thor, just call it coffee. Calling it a beverage does not make it sound any fancier.”

You slid past his broad shoulder, taking a deliberate, aggressive sip of your drink before making your way toward the sliding glass doors of the briefing room. He immediately fell into step behind you, his massive, sweeping strides matching yours in a pure, frustrating rhythm.

“It does sound better when I call it a beverage,” he argued, his heavy leather boots thudding loudly against the floorboards as if he could make his statement more convincing by physical force.

“Sure, lord of thunder,” you murmured, a wicked, knowing smirk pulling at your lips. You knew exactly which buttons to push, and that specific title was your absolute favorite weapon.

“I am the god of thunder!” he hissed from behind you, his voice dropping into a defensive, offended rumble. “You know what? I know you are doing this on purpose—you are intentionally trying to—”

You pushed through the glass doors, entering the sleek, high-tech briefing room with the God of Thunder hot on your heels, still fiercely grumbling about the distinct theological differences between a lord and a god.

“Ah, our favorite couple, arguing again,” Tony said loudly, opening his arms wide in a dramatic, welcoming gesture from the head of the conference table. He leaned back in his chair, a classic, mischievous glint in his eyes. “Still not able to decide whether they want to kill each other or fuck—“

Before the final, crude word could even leave his mouth, your reflexes took over. Your hand blurred. You snatched a thick, heavy tactical folder from the edge of the table and launched it through the air with lethal, pinpoint precision.

Smack. The folder hit Tony squarely across the bridge of his nose, the papers scattering in a neat halo around his chair.

“Ow! Okay, there was absolutely no need for that,” Tony muttered, wincing as he gingerly adjusted his tinted glasses, though the smirk never truly left his face. He looked over at Natasha and Steve, who were already seated, completely unfazed by the morning violence.

“You talk too much, Stark,” Thor grumbled, pulling out a chair and dropping his massive frame into it with a loud thud that resonated through the room.

Your eyebrows shot up instantly as you sat down yourself. “Says you?” you retorted, gesturing toward his broad chest with your coffee mug. “You literally haven't shut up since the kitchen.”

“Let’s just focus on our objective, okay, guys?” Steve said, running a tired palm over his face, completely done with your collective energy so early in the morning. He pushed himself up from his seat next to Tony, leaning his broad shoulders over the holographic table to command the room.

Steve tapped the digital console, and the lights in the briefing room dimmed instantly, replaced by a glowing, three-dimensional blueprint of an ultra-private luxury island floating in the Mediterranean.

“Our focus is here: The Sanctuary,” Steve began, his voice dropping into his serious captain tone. “On paper, it’s an exclusive, hyper-secure resort for the world's billionaires, corrupt politicians, and elite criminals. But over the last forty-eight hours, our satellites intercepted an unencrypted dark-web signal bouncing from the island’s lower levels. A rogue faction has managed to smuggle a massive cache of volatile, leftover Dark Elf technology onto the premises. They’re hosting a private, black-market auction to sell it off to the highest bidder.”

You leaned forward, your brain instantly analyzing the island's perimeter. “So we drop in, neutralize the buyers, and secure the tech. Sounds like a standard Tuesday. Why are we all sitting here?”

“Because it’s a hostage situation waiting to happen if we go in loud,” Natasha spoke up from the corner, her fingers tapping against her tablet. “The entire island is rigged with a quantum-fission failsafe connected to the central vault. If the resort’s biometric security detects a frontal assault, a breach, or a single Quinjet on their radar, the system will instantly detonate the alien cache. It’ll vaporize the island and take half of Western Europe out with the blast wave. It requires a ghost to dismantle the failsafe from the inside.”

“A ghost?” you repeated, a slow, dark smile creeping onto your face. “Perfect. I’ll go in undercover as a maid, slip into the server room, kill the signal, and leave before anyone even finishes their champagne.”

“You’re half right,” Tony cut in, tapping his pen against his cheek. “You are going undercover. But you’re not going as a maid, Shadow. The resort has a strict, biometric-level verification system for all service staff, but their guest list is curated entirely by the billionaire owner—an eccentric, power-obsessed arms dealer named Moretti. He has a strict ‘No Media, Couples Only’ policy for his guests to protect their privacy.”

Tony smirked, leaning forward and typing a command into his console. The holographic display shifted from the island to a digital invitation, written in gold lettering, making your eyes go wide. No.

“Moretti is obsessed with power, gods, and mythology,” Tony explained, his eyes darting between you and the blonde King sitting across from you. “He doesn't just want money; he wants prestige. So, we gave him exactly what he wanted. We leaked a carefully staged, ‘top-secret’ paparazzi photo to the press this morning. The official narrative? The newly crowned King of Asgard has secretly retired from his bachelor days and eloped with a fierce, mysterious warrior woman.”

Your breath hitched violently in your throat. The coffee in your mug suddenly felt like acid.

“What?” you whispered, your heart stopping. You were an Avenger; you were known to the world, but you operated mostly in the quiet, precise darkness. To be thrust into the center of attention like this was your worst nightmare.

Thor froze, his hand stopping mid-air as he went to scratch his short blonde beard. His blue eyes went incredibly wide as he stared at the holographic invitation. “Stark—what madness are you speaking of?”

“It’s simple, lovebirds,” Natasha said, her voice laced with an infuriatingly calm amusement. “Moretti swallowed the bait hook, line, and sinker. The moment he saw the news that the King Of Asgard was on a secret honeymoon, he personally sent out an exclusive, all-access VIP invitation to the royal couple. You two are the ultimate distraction.”

Steve looked at the two of you, his expression sympathetic but unyielding. “Thor keeps all eyes on him by playing the loud, boastful, larger-than-life husband, giving you the perfect cover to move through the high-society crowds, slip into the shadows, and quietly dismantle the failsafe without triggering the biometric alarms. You need his status to get through the front door, and he needs your precision to make sure the island doesn't explode.”

“You expect me,” you said slowly, your voice dropping into a lethal, dangerous sound as you pointed a finger across the table, “to pretend to be blissfully, passionately in love with him? For how long exactly?”

“Not a soul here but you said passionately—“ Thor grumbled but was cut off by you, “Shut up, will you?”

Thor’s hands twitched, like he was holding himself from doing something irrational. He sighed a long breath, trying to compose himself, he didn’t think he could do this. Why did it have to be you, of all people?

But your skills in being a ghost were too good—too fucking perfect for your own good. So he knew the reason why it had to be you, but he protested anyway, he turned to Steve, “I do not see why she should be the one coming with me—“

You didn’t let him finish, rolling your eyes as you said “I’m not loving the idea either—“

“Depends on you, really. Could just be two days or a whole week.“ Steve said cutting both of you off as he looked at the both of you, clearly distressed at your brewing argument, again. “An entire week?” you said, your voice dripping with irritation, your jaw locking at the mere thought of it.

“Hey, it’s a tough gig, but someone’s gotta do it,” Tony chuckled, completely ignoring the murderous look you were throwing him across the table. “Congratulations, kids. Pack your bags. You’re going on a honeymoon.”

—

You were huffing and puffing as you aggressively packed your suitcases—yes, suitcases, plural.

You were practically tearing through your wardrobe, shoving in dresses, hats, sunglasses, and anything else you could get your hands on, entirely leaving the burden of actually coordinating an outfit for later. The second you had escaped the briefing room, you had fled to your quarters. The news was still pouring over you like boiling water, making your skin burn with a restless, defensive heat just thinking about it.

How the hell were you going to pretend to be his wife?

The only thing you were biologically capable of doing near that man was yelling at him, throwing files at his head, or arguing until you were blue in the face. He got on your nerves every single second of the day, provoking you with that smug arrogance of his, making you want to literally peel your own skin off your bones just to escape his proximity. And now you were supposed to look into his blue eyes and play the part of a blushing, smitten bride on a Mediterranean honeymoon. It was sick. It was a comedy of errors written by a cruel universe.

As you slammed another folded gown into the suitcase, your movements suddenly slowed. Your eyes caught sight of the faint, jagged scars marring the skin over your forearms and stomach.

A sudden, heavy wave of insecurity bubbled up inside your chest, overtaking the rage. The thought of being forced into revealing resort wear—of being paraded around an island full of hyper-critical, judgmental billionaires who you knew would dissect your every flaw—infiltrated your mind.

Usually, you were secure in your own skin. You were an Avenger, for God's sake. You were a lethal weapon, and honestly, you did wear dresses when the occasion called for it. But in this context? Under the blinding, global spotlight? You felt like a fraud. You felt like every single pair of eyes on that island would be glued to you, the judgmental, elitist sneers of high society cutting right through you simply because you were Thor’s goddamn wife. You were the woman who had supposedly tamed the King of Asgard, and they would be looking for any reason to tear you apart.

The scars were a permanent, physical gift from your torturers. The monsters who had turned you immortal years ago.

You could not die of age. You could not fall succumb to diseases. Even lethal wounds healed seamlessly within hours if properly attended to. You were stuck living like this forever, the terrifying nightmares from those months in the lab still playing in your mind night after night, making your throat go completely sore as you woke up screaming for them to stop. The experiments had broken your human limitations, locking your cellular structure in a permanent, un-aging loop.

You sharply rubbed at your eyes with the palms of your hands, trying to force the horrific memories to flee from your mind. The ghosts of your past loved to haunt you wherever you went, but you couldn't afford a breakdown today. Not with a flight to catch.

Letting out a heavy, defeated sigh, you declared yourself done with the chaotic packing. You bit your lip anxiously as you got ready for the travel day, pulling a simple, breezy white summer dress over your frame. The fabric flared gently around your knees, and you slid your feet into a pair of modest kitten heels. Finally, you pulled a soft white cardigan over your shoulders, fastening a few buttons, strictly wanting to ensure you wouldn't freeze before you reached your destination. You took one last look in the mirror, masking the assassin, masking the scars, and preparing to face your fate.

As you opened the door, struggling to maneuver your suitcases out of the room, you immediately heard his voice booming down the corridor.

“How are you going to carry those by yourself?” Thor asked, leaning against the wall with a wicked, entirely too handsome smile plastered across his face.

He was obviously going to help you. If the King of Asgard was anything, he was a gentleman down to his very bones—but he didn't just want to be helpful. He wanted to hear the words come out of your mouth. He wanted you to look him in the eye and actively admit that you needed his help. He knew you would absolutely hate doing it, which only made him crave it more.

“I can handle myself just fine,” you breathed out defensively. You leaned your weight back, using the rolling wheels of the suitcases to your advantage. Your pride was still firmly intact because you could easily drag them behind you on a flat surface, but you knew deep down that you couldn't physically lift both of these giant, overpacked cases at the same time down a flight of stairs. But he most definitely did not need to know that.

“Oh? So you don’t need any assistance at all?” he remarked smoothly. He was casually carrying his own massive tactical suitcase in one hand by the handle, his arm barely flexing. It was probably like holding a mosquito between his fingers for him.

“No. Especially not from you,” you huffed, your heels clicking sharply against the tile as you tried to wheel past him, clearly getting irritated by his mere existence.

“Hm,” he just mumbled, a deeply amused sound vibrating in his throat as he turned and watched you walk over to the elevator banks.

You aggressively pressed the down button, silently begging the universe for the doors to open as fast as humanly possible. You could feel Thor’s massive presence looming right behind you, practically radiating an eager energy, just waiting for another opportunity to prod at you.

“What are you waiting for?” you asked, your voice incredibly tight from pure annoyance.

He chuckled, the sound low and rumbling. “For the elevator, Little Flame. Same as you.”

You could feel his massive, broad frame standing directly behind your back. Even though there were a few inches of space separating you, he was like a literal furnace, a heavy, intoxicating heat radiating off his body and wrapping around your shoulders.

You rolled your eyes at the ceiling. “You can carry your own suitcase. I don't see why—” You abruptly cut yourself off, closing your eyes tightly, your face scrunching up in disdain.

Fuck. You had just walked right into his trap.

“Oh, so you cannot carry yours?” he prodded instantly, his tone dripping with sheer amusement. Your eyes opened back up immediately.

Where was this fucking elevator?!

Realizing the lift was taking too long, you sharply turned around to face him. Your bruised, stubborn ego completely hijacked your brain, making you snap at him before you could stop yourself. “I very much can!”

Thor looked down at you, his blue eyes sparkling with a level of amusement that was bordering on infuriating. “Oh, please, be my guest, will you?” He dramatically extended his free hand, gesturing toward the grand concrete staircase at the end of the hall. You huffed a sharp breath through your nose, your jaw locking. “Fine.”

You spun on your heels, deliberately dragging your heavy suitcases over to the very edge of the stairs, desperately delaying the exact moment you would actually have to lift them. When you finally reached the top step, you stopped and stared down at the luggage, your brain going into overdrive as you calculated the weight distribution.

Thor followed you, enjoying every single second of this entirely too much. Even his stance—weight shifted to one hip, a smirk playing on his lips—radiated absolute satisfaction.

“Struggling there?” he asked, taking a deliberate step closer to you.

“Not at all,” you lied through your teeth. Your eyes narrowed into lethal slits as you stared at him, and out of pure, stubborn stupidity, you grabbed the handles of both massive suitcases.

Bracing yourself in your goddamn kitten heels, you attempted to lift them both off the ground at the exact same time.

But the second your muscles tensed and you yanked them up, the combined, brutal weight of the luggage completely threw off your center of gravity. Your body violently swung forward toward the edge of the stairs, the momentum dragging you directly downward. A sharp, terrified yelp tore from your throat as your foot slipped on the smooth edge. You closed your eyes, waiting for the inevitable impact.

You were definitely going down. You were going to roll down a flight of concrete stairs in a white summer dress, become the laughing stock of the entire Avengers Compound, and probably severely injure yourself—meaning you'd have to hobble around the island waiting for your powers to slowly knit your bones back together. Amazing. Brilliant execution, babe, bravo.

But just as those thoughts raced through your mind, they disappeared entirely.

A massive, incredibly solid arm suddenly wrapped like an iron band around your waist. With one effortless, powerful pull, he caught your entire body weight, dragging you firmly back from the edge of the abyss and slamming your back flush against his broad, solid chest.

You opened your eyes—which you hadn't even realized you'd squeezed shut—and let out a shaky, breathless sigh of pure relief. Your heart was hammering like a drum against your ribs.

“Perhaps now, you will admit that you need me to carry them for you,” he mumbled. His voice was a gravelly rasp right against the back of your ear, his warm breath fanning across your skin and causing a shiver of goosebumps to erupt down your neck and arms.

Your breath caught. You quickly huffed, using your hands to pry his heavy arm away from your waist. The skin beneath your dress was practically burning from his touch, but you absolutely did not have the mental capacity to dwell on that right now.

You turned around to face him, your cheeks flushed, your expression a mixture of distress and absolute fury that you had just proven him entirely right.

“Fine,” you said, your voice tight and defeated.

Thor didn't move an inch out of your personal space. He looked down at you, his eyes slowly tracing over your flushed face and your white dress, a smug, triumphant look in his gaze.

“Fine, what?” he challenged softly, wanting every single syllable of his victory.

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, your pride fiercely battling against the cold reality of the situation. You darted a desperate look toward the elevator, but the glowing digital screen indicated it was still stuck on a lower floor. Frustrated and completely cornered, you aggressively slammed your right foot down against the tile floor like a spoiled child. He always brought that irritating, uncharacteristic side out of you.

“Okay,” you snapped, completely averting your gaze from his face as you mumbled, “Ineedyoutocarrymyluggageforme.”

The words tumbled out of your mouth in a single, rushed, completely unintelligible breath, your eyes locked onto the center of his chest.

“What?” Thor chuckled again, the hilarious sight of you stomping your foot and speaking at supersonic speed catching him entirely off guard. A deep, rumble of laughter shook his chest. “I did not quite get that, Little Flame. Can you say it again?” He was enjoying this far too much for his own good, the smug triumph radiating off him in waves.

“I need you to carry my luggage for me,” you enunciated sharply, every word dripping with pure annoyance.

Instead of just taking the win, Thor brought a thick finger to his chin, tapping it as if he were lost in deep thought. He scrunched up his handsome face, tilting his head. “I don’t think that was a really nice way of asking someone to carry your ginormous suitcases for you.”

“Ugh!” You let out a loud, frustrated yell, throwing your hands down to your sides as you forced yourself to look him dead in his sparkling blue eyes. “Will you please carry my luggage for me?”

He smiled triumphantly, his entire face lighting up like a kid on Christmas morning. He finally stepped forward and grabbed your two bags, arranging them in perfect order back-to-back so their elongated handles lined up close together. Then, with a single, massive hand, he closed his fingers over both handles at once. With his own tactical suitcase in his other hand, he effortlessly lifted all three massive bags off the floor without a single hint of strain.

The elevator suddenly dinged, the doors sliding open just as he hoisted the luggage into the air. Ordinarily, you would have completely lost your temper at timing like that. You would have cursed the universe out loud for making you beg for help only for the elevator to arrive a second later.

But the words died in your throat.

The sight of him carrying all three heavy suitcases at once made you breathe in a sharp, sudden gasp. Your pulse skipped a beat in your chest, and your eyes involuntarily roamed all over his frame. He had changed out of his grey t-shirt before coming to your door; he was now wearing a tight black t-shirt that hugged the broad expanse of his chest and shoulders, paired with tailored charcoal linen pants and black loafers.

He looked good. So fucking hot, in fact, that it sent an unexpected, electric tingle shooting straight through your core and settling deep in your stomach. The sight of his veins popping and his massive biceps bulging as he easily carried the weight of your entire life in one hand was—

What the fuck? What the hell was wrong with you?

You were fully aware that the King of Asgard possessed heart-stoppingly good looks—the entire planet was aware of it—but his infuriating behaviour toward you usually stopped you from ever enjoying the sight. You were supposed to dislike him. You were rivals. But what the fuck had just happened to your brain?

You sharply cleared your throat, forcefully tearing your eyes away from his arms as your cheeks burned a bright, furious crimson. Desperate to hide your sudden fluster, you quickly turned and marched past him, going down the staird in a fastened pace.

Thor smoothly followed behind you, his loafers making zero noise on the concrete, while your heels clicked loudly and rapidly down the steps, echoing your erratic, racing heartbeat.

Thor was watching you walk down the stairs before him, still visibly fuming that he had managed to break your stubborn streak and force a please out of your mouth. He was utterly relishing the victory, a brilliant, smug smile that practically screamed he had won etched across his handsome features while he effortlessly balanced your massive luggage in his grip.

But his smugness didn't last long.

You huffed, stopping for a brief second on the landing. With a fluid, deliberate motion, you slid your white cardigan off your shoulders, pooling the fabric into one hand. The sudden movement exposed the sharp, elegant lines of your collarbones in the strapless white dress. You flipped your hair to one side, completely baring the smooth expanse of your neck to the air—and to him. Then, as if you couldn't quite decide what kind of sensory torture you wanted to execute on the King of Asgard, you started heading down the remaining stairs, your hips swaying with a natural, intoxicating rhythm.

Thor took a sudden, sharp breath at the sight before him. His blue eyes went wide, running over your frame, completely unable to decide where to look. His gaze got hopelessly caught on the soft curve of your shoulders, the narrow dip of your waist, the hypnotic roll of your hips.

A hot rush of blood surged to his head. His breath caught violently in his chest, and for the first time in his immortal life, the God of Thunder actually stumbled on a concrete step. His black loafer clipped the edge, his chest heaving as he quickly caught himself.

What the actual hell was happening? He was well aware that you were breathtaking; he had seen the way people’s heads turned whenever you walked into a room without you even trying. But this? This reaction was entirely uncalled for. He disliked you. He disliked your sharp tongue and the way you always had a quip ready to jab at him. He shouldn't be admiring you, yet his heart was currently hammering against his ribs like a war drum.

Hearing his sudden, heavy stumble, you paused and turned your head back to see what was wrong. You found him standing a few steps above you, his jaw slightly slack. A wicked smile slowly bloomed across your face.

“What was that, Your Majesty? Are they too much for you to carry?” you taunted, shifting your body so your chest was fully turned toward him.

Thor’s eyes helplessly drifted downward to your now fully visible chest, his breath catching for a second time that day. The flush on his neck deepened. He aggressively cleared his throat, forcing his eyes up to meet your smirking face.

“Hah! I can move literal mountains, Little Flame. These trinkets are nothing to me,” he mumbled defensively, his voice a bit more rushed than usual. “I simply lost my balance is all.”

Desperate to escape your mocking gaze, he practically ran down the remaining stairs, his loafers squeaking slightly against the polished concrete as he hurried into the main lobby with all three suitcases clutched tightly in his hands.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you watched him go, continuing your descent. The discarded cardigan remained clutched in your hand; you felt entirely too hot, your own racing thoughts making your skin flush. You gulped, trying to aggressively shoo the bizarre tension out of your mind. You hated him. You needed to get a grip.

When you finally reached the expansive glass entrance of the compound, Thor was already standing there, deep in a heated discussion with Tony.

“Why spend hours traveling in one of your metal birds when we can get there in seconds?” Thor was arguing, his brow furrowed in genuine, godly confusion.

Tony turned toward you as you approached, a wicked, entirely too amused smirk lighting up his face. “Ah, perfect timing, Shadow. Point Break here is staging a mutiny. He says you two don't need to board a plane or take a Quinjet.”

“How come?” you asked, your blood suddenly running cold. An ominous weight dropped into your stomach because you could already guess exactly what the god of thunder had in mind.

“Stormbreaker can take us across the world in seconds,” Thor said, turning his massive frame toward you, completely serious.

“But—” you started, your mind frantically grasping for any viable excuse to avoid being that physically close to him for a cosmic teleportation ride. “But how will you carry the luggage while we traverse realms? It’s impossible.”

“You just hold onto me, and I will handle the rest,” he said easily, dismissively, as if he were explaining the most simple, mundane task in the world. You swallowed hard, your heart doing a strange flip. “But Thor, you have to hold Stormbreaker in one hand, and the luggage in the other. What about me? Where am I supposed to go?”

Thor let out a sharp, irritated huff, clearly done with you dragging out the inevitable. “I said I will handle it. Now, let us go.”

He turned away, marching through the sliding glass doors into the bright morning air. He dropped his own suitcase onto the concrete pavement and extended his right hand toward the sky. Within a split second, a loud, crackling boom echoed through the compound as the massive, heavy blade of Stormbreaker flew from his room straight into his waiting palm.

With practiced, terrifying strength, he gathered the handles of all three massive suitcases into his other hand, hoisting them up effortlessly. He turned his head, his short blonde hair catching the sunlight, and motioned sharply with his chin for you to come closer.

You narrowed your eyes at him stubbornly, crossing your arms over your chest. “What if I don’t want to—” Before you could even finish your protest, Thor’s patience snapped. In one swift, blur of a movement, his massive hand shot out and grabbed you firmly by the wrist.

You let out a sharp yelp as he effortlessly yanked you forward into his personal space, his strength completely overriding your balance. He forcefully guided your arms around his thick middle, pulling you so close that your cheek was muffled right against the hard, solid muscle of his chest.

You could feel his heavy pectoral muscles instantly tighten at the sudden contact, a wave of intense, radiating heat washing over you. Before you could even open your mouth to yell at him for handling you so roughly, his deep, rumbling voice vibrated right through his chest wall against your ear. “Hold on tight.” And with a sudden, blinding flash of blue electricity, he raised Stormbreaker high into the sky.

A blinding burst of color erupted all around you as the Bifrost engulfed you both. The roaring force of the cosmic energy threatened to rip you away, and you instinctively closed your eyes tightly, holding yourself steady by gluing your body entirely to his. Your fingers dug firmly into the fabric of his shirt, pulling yourself so close that there wasn’t a single millimeter of space left between your chest and his.

Then, just as quickly as it had begun, the rushing roar vanished.

You felt your heels solidly touch the ground, arriving at your destination in a second. For a moment, your hands remained tightly locked around his middle and your face was still pressed right against the warm, hard muscle of his chest, you could hear his heartbeat thudding against his ribs.

Slowly, you forced your eyes open and pulled your face back, blinking against the sudden, brilliant glare of the Mediterranean sun.

The Sanctuary stretched out before you, you were standing on a private, pristine white-stone terrace that overlooked a sprawling, crescent-shaped bay. The water below was a blinding, translucent turquoise, so clear that you could see the dark, shifting shadows of coral reefs deep beneath the surface. Sleek, multi-million-dollar superyachts were anchored in the distance, polished and gleaming under the midday sun.

The resort itself was built directly into the towering, sun-bleached cliffs of the island. It was a marvel of modern, minimalist design blended with ancient luxury—all clean white concrete, floor-to-ceiling glass panels, and cascading infinity pools that seemed to spill directly into the ocean below. Lavish, vibrant pink bougainvillea and lush green palms draped over stone walkways, softening the sharp lines of the villas.

Your nostrills filled with the scent of saltwater, expensive citrus perfume, and blooming jasmine. In the distance, you could hear the faint, muted clinking of crystal glasses and the smooth, ambient lounge music drifting from an exclusive beachfront pavilion. It was entirely peaceful, completely hidden from the rest of the world, and crawling with some of the most dangerous, corrupt elite on the planet.

You let out a slow breath, your eyes immediately mapping out the security cameras hidden in the palm trees and the heavily armed guards dressed in casual, matching resort linen suits.

“You can let go of me now, Little Flame,” Thor’s deep voice murmured directly above you, a distinct trace of that familiar, smug amusement vibrating right against your hands. “Unless, of course, you are already enjoying the perks of marriage.”

You blinked, sharply pushing yourself away from his broad chest. “You wish,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes as you aggressively smoothed down the wrinkled fabric of your white summer dress. “I’m not exactly into lords, anyway. I prefer a much stronger title.”

“Good thing I am not a lord, then,” he replied smoothly. For the first time, he didn't get defensive or angry at the jab. Instead, he just stood there, smiling down at you with a gaze so wicked that you could practically feel the blood rushing straight to your head.

You internally groaned, chastising yourself. Stupid girl. You really should have thought beforehand that he would turn your own words right back on you like that. But before your scrambled brain could piece together a proper, biting retort, the heavy footsteps of the resort's security staff cut you off.

“Are you invited, sir?”

A burly bodyguard in a pristine, light-blue linen suit approached the two of you. His voice was laced with a deep, unmistakable tone of respect; he clearly recognized the King of Asgard, but he was trying to maintain the island's strict protocol.

“Yes,” you intervened seamlessly, sliding in front of Thor. Your training kicked in instantly, and a perfected, dazzling smile etched itself onto your face. You held up your phone, displaying the exclusive, gold-rimmed digital invitation Tony had intercepted.

The bodyguard scanned the screen, nodding, but his cautious gaze quickly drifted down to the massive, terrifying axe gripped firmly in Thor's left hand. “We... do not allow weapons on the resort grounds, sir. If you could leave it with security—”

“Ah, that is easily remedied,” Thor interrupted cheerfully. With a casual flick of his wrist, the massive, razor-sharp blade of Stormbreaker melted away, shrinking down until it transformed into a simple, polished black umbrella. You whipped your head around to look at the object, completely deadpan. “An umbrella? In this weather?” you muttered, gesturing to the cloudless, blazing mediterranean sky.

Thor’s eyebrows furrowed at you, his jaw tightening in annoyance at your public critique. “Well, there is something called a summer rain, sweetheart,” he said, faking an incredibly sweet, doting smile for the sake of the watchibg guard, though his blue eyes promised absolute murder.

“I don’t think it’s going to rain anytime soon, honey,” you shot back, your voice dripping with a deep, sickeningly fake sugary sweetness as your own plastic smile widened. Before you could take another breath, Thor’s massive arm suddenly shot out, wrapping securely around your waist and forcefully dragging you flush into his side for a tight, suffocating hug.

A sharp, undignified yelp tore from your throat at the sudden impact, but you quickly cleared your throat, masking your shock as you gripped his forearm. He was absolutely enjoying torturing you, using the doting husband act as the perfect excuse to handle you however he pleased. You were going to kill him.

“I can make it rain anytime I wish,” he murmured, his tone biting at you in a dangerous, playful whisper that sent an involuntary shiver down your spine. He flashed one last dazzling smile at the bewildered bodyguard. “Now, let us go to our room, yeah?”

After that, the guard politely led you both through the sweeping glass doors toward the main lobby, where a receptionist stood behind a white marble desk, a bright, welcoming smile on her face.

“Welcome to The Sanctuary. Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Odinson,” she said smoothly, but the moment the words left her mouth, you saw her cringe a bit, her eyes darting between the digital registry and your face as she thought the names over. You noticed the hesitation instantly, Odinson did sound incredibly weird when referring to a woman.

“Is that your last name now, madam? Should I call you that?” she genuinely asked, looking a bit flustered, as if she were desperately trying to avoid making a mistake.

A massive grin broke across your face while Thor’s expression instantly soured. Oh, you liked this receptionist already.

“I genuinely have no idea. It does sound completely off when you say it like that, doesn't it?” you said, leaning against the marble desk. Then, you slowly turned your head to look up at him, your eyes wide with mock innocence. “Honey, is my last name Odinson now? Wouldn't that literally just mean I’m a son of Odin? I mea—”

He cut you off instantly, his jaw clenching as he growled under his breath, clearly pissed. “Well, we are in Midgard, darling. So your last name is now Odinson here, no? It is how things are done on this realm.” He forced out a tight, blindingly fake smile, trying his absolute best not to throw off the receptionist standing inches away.

You smiled right back, utterly loving the fact that you had managed to piss him off so quickly. You turned back to the receptionist, giving her a conspiratorial look. “Or you could just call me by my former last na—”

“No.” Thor cut you off again, his deep voice dropping an octave, completely unyielding as his blue eyes threw literal daggers down at you. “She will be referred to as Mrs. Odinson.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, your smile faltering for a split second. That was a remarkably quick, fiercely defensive reaction from him. Why the hell did he care so much about a fake human registry?

Recovering quickly, you huffed out a light, airy fake laugh for the receptionist's benefit, gesturing toward the rigid King beside you. “He gets incredibly defensive in situations like this,” you told her. Then, leaning in slightly, you whispered in a stage-whisper, “Male ego, am I right?” The receptionist let out a quiet, knowing chuckle and nodded her head in absolute agreement, clearly understanding exactly what you meant.

“I will show you to your room then, Mrs. Odinson,” she said, stepping out from behind the marble desk and motioning toward a glass elevator that overlooked the turquoise bay, while waving over a bellboy to take the three giant suitcases from Thor's hands.

Thor let the bellboy take the suitcases, his hands finally free as he followed the two of you toward the glass lift. The receptionist held the elevator doors open, gesturing politely with an extended hand, and once you and Thor stepped inside, she followed, pressing the button for the upper residential levels.

The elevator began its smooth ascent. Thor looked around the glass enclosure, his massive arms folding tightly over his broad chest. The movement made his biceps bulge prominently against the fabric of his t-shirt, and your traitorous eyes immediately darted downward, following the sharp lines of his muscles before you could even stop yourself.

“I like this Midgardian facility,” Thor remarked, his deep voice echoing in the enclosed space as he looked out at the view. “It is quite nice.”

“Me too. Love the design, honestly.” you said smoothly, flashing a perfect, effortless hand gesture, but as your eyes finally flicked away from Thor’s arm, you caught something out of the corner of your eye. A sudden, entirely unknown feeling brewed in the pit of your stomach.

The receptionist was staring at Thor’s arms. And she wasn't just glancing; she was so goddamn focused, her eyes tracing the thick veins of his biceps, that she didn't even notice your lethal gaze cutting right through her.

You were definitely taking it back—you did not like this girl at all.

Before your brain could even process the irrational spike of possessiveness, you acted on pure instinct. You stepped right into his space, cleared your throat sharply, and forcefully reached up to uncross his arms.

“What are—” Thor started, entirely caught off guard by the unexpected intrusion.

He was completely silenced as you forcefully dragged his broad frame down into a tight side hug. Your arm slid securely over his back, anchoring him to you, and you felt his breath hitch violently at the sudden contact. He froze for a second, his chest heaving, before he cleared his throat and let his massive hand find the curve of your waist, pulling you securely against his hip.

You kept your eyes locked dead on the receptionist, claiming your territory with absolute, unyielding dominance. You flashed her a wicked, razor-sharp smile. The girl's cheeks instantly flushed crimson, and she averted her eyes toward the floor, clearly mortified that she had been caught staring at a married man, beside his wife at that.

The second the threat was neutralized, your actions crashed down on you. You had absolutely no idea what had just come over you, or why the fuck you would ever do something like that over Thor. Okay, you probably—definitely did that because the thought of another woman disrespecting you by looking at your husband made you want to commit murder. Correction, supposed husband. Still he was your fucking husband for now and she was looking at him and— It’s all about you really, all good. Nothing to worry about.

Your face burned with a furious heat as you forced your gaze straight ahead, refusing to look at him, but you could feel the immense weight of his blue eyes staring down at the side of your face—burning you, fucking scorching you with an intense, questioning gaze.

Thankfully, the elevator dinged, saving you from the embarrassment.

The doors slid open, and you caught your first breathtaking sight of the upper facility. It wasn't a standard, enclosed hotel corridor. Instead, the elevator opened directly into the brilliant, open air of the cliffside. It was designed like an exclusive luxury resort enclave; the elevator connected the lower main lobby directly to an expansive, sun-drenched outdoor terrace that led to the private villa section of the property.

Stone pathways winded through lush, manicured tropical gardens, flanked by cascading water features and private infinity pools that looked like they hung off the edge of the world. The ocean breeze hit your face instantly, lifting the hem of your white dress, but the burning weight of Thor’s hand still resting firmly on your waist made it impossible to feel the cold.

You followed the receptionist, her eyes now glued strictly forward as she walked, her posture stiff with the embarrassment of the whole situation.

You tried to subtly peel yourself away from Thor’s side, but the moment you moved, the heavy grip of his hand on your waist tightened significantly. Your eyes instinctively glanced upward to him, ready to snap, but he was simply looking around at the passing scenery, appearing completely unbothered by the situation. Why wouldn't he let go? You wondered why the hell he would keep you tethered to his side like this, as if he actively wanted you there.

Then, doing something you thought you would absolutely never do, you let him. You quietly surrendered, allowing him to hold you tight against his hip as you both walked down the sun-drenched stone path.

Other elite couples passed you by, their judgmental eyes scanning you up and down as they noted the stunning, mysterious woman on the arm of the Asgardian King. This is exactly why he is keeping you glued to him, a strict, grounding voice echoed in your mind. Do not forget the objective, or the fact that you both could never, ever like each other like that. You swallowed hard, your own hand involuntarily tightening around his side for a split second. Why the fuck would you even think otherwise?

The receptionist finally approached a secluded, breathtaking cliffside villa. She opened the heavy timber door for you, stepping aside to hand you the room keycards.

The moment you stepped across the threshold, your eyes widened at the sight before you. Your blood ran completely cold. You let go of his waist immediately, and this time he actually let you.

Your hands were slightly shaking as you looked around the massive, sunlit room. Why hadn't you thought of this earlier? Ofcourse. It was painfully obvious. You were pretending to be a married couple on a honeymoon, after all.

You looked beside you only to see Thor standing entirely frozen, his lips slightly agape and his breathing turning shallow and fast as you both simultaneously realized how profoundly fucked up this mission actually was.

There was only one fucking bed.

It was a massive, ultra-luxurious king-sized bed, draped in crisp white linens and pushed directly against the center of the room, facing the glass walls that looked out over the ocean. Thor couldn't believe his own stupidity; how could he have thought he wouldn't have to share a bed with you on a mission where you were supposed to be blissfully in love? This mission was officially going to be the absolute death of him.

He slowly turned his head to look down at you, only to find you already staring up at him with completely bewildered, panicked eyes.

“I hope you like your room. Have a wonderful stay, Mr. and Mrs. Odinson,” the receptionist said, her voice finally breaking the tense silence that had descended upon the room.

The sound of her talking jolted you both out of your shared panic. You didn't even look at her fully, only giving a stiff side-eye and a tight nod before she quickly scrambled out of the room, shutting the heavy door behind her.

The second the click of the lock echoed through the villa, you spun on your heels to face him. Your voice was sharp, defensive, and entirely determined as you pointed a finger at him. “I will sleep in the bed.”

His eyes narrowed at you instantly. “No, I will,” he counter-attacked, and with two long, authoritative strides, he walked over to the bed and sat down heavily on the mattress, trying to claim the territory by physical force. You scoffed loudly, refusing to back down. You marched right over to the edge of the bed and sat down forcefully beside him, turning your body to face him dead-on. “I will,” you repeated stubbornly, your jaw locking.

Thor snorted, a challenge dancing in his blue eyes. “Okay, then. You will simply be sleeping next to me.”

Your eyes widened in sudden panic as you huffed out a sharp breath. “What?” you said, utterly bewildered by the casualness of his suggestion.

He rolled his eyes, gesturing broadly to the sprawling mattress behind him. “This is a massive bed, love. We both can fit, clearly.”

The moment the casual pet name slipped from his tongue, Thor internally bit down on it, desperately trying to maintain his stoic composure. What the fuck is my problem? he wondered, a silent storm raging in his mind as he stared at your flushed face. There was no one here to perform for. The door was locked. Yet his brain was completely short-circuiting.

Your breath hitched in your throat. Why the hell would he call you that when there wasn't a single soul around to witness it? You swallowed hard, trying to inject some of your usual venom back into your voice to hide your racing pulse. “You are ginormous, Thor. You would probably just roll over in the middle of the night and crush me to death or something—”

“I would never,” he said softly, cutting you off. He looked directly at you, his gaze suddenly changing into an intensity so deeply serious, that it made your heart give a treacherous flutter against your ribs.

You gulped, your mind going entirely blank. You tried to grasp for another excuse, another biting retort, but the gravity of his presence was making you forget everything else besides him.

Thor’s eyes roamed all over your face, desperately trying to dissect whatever panicked thoughts were racing through your mind. But as his gaze drifted downward, your bare arms caught his eye.

His breath hitched violently. His eyebrows furrowed into a deep, troubled line as his vision focused entirely on your skin.

How the hell had he never noticed them before?

Faint, jagged scars were littered all over your arms, disrupting your otherwise flawless skin. They were the unmistakable, ghostly remnants of... what? How could you have possibly acquired them? He knew you possessed an advanced healing factor—he had seen you bounce back from lethal battle wounds within hours—so if these marks remained, the trauma that caused them must have been unfathomable. It must have happened before you ever gained your abilities. But how did you even get your powers?

Thor realized, with a jarring pang in his chest, that he knew absolutely nothing about your history. He knew nothing of what had happened to you, where you had come from, or how you had earned those marks. A dark, protective rage began to brew in his chest, his breathing turning ragged as he stared at the faint lines.

You noticed the exact second his eyes shifted. A cold, suffocating dread pooled in your stomach.

Nobody outside of Tony, Steve, Natasha, and Bucky knew what had happened to you. Tony and Steve knew because they were the ones who had found you, breaking into that dark Hydra facility to save your life. Natasha knew because she was your absolute closest friend, the person who held you through the worst of the night terrors. Bucky knew only because you had trusted him with the truth, knowing he was the only one who truly understood the agony of being a broken, unwilling assassin.

But Thor? Thor hadn't been there when you were saved. He had been worlds away, dealing with the high-stakes matters of Asgard. And you, of course, had never told him. How could you? When he had finally returned to Earth and met you for the very first time, he had simply looked at you deadpan and muttered, “She looks gloomy.”

The comment had broken you. Before he had ever spoken to you, you had thought him absolutely extraordinary. The exact second you had caught sight of his legendary, powerful frame, an intense, quiet attraction had sparked inside you. But he had broken all of that in a single second by calling you gloomy, bruising your defensive ego and forcing you to react in the absolute worst way possible—yelling at him and starting a years-long war of petty arguments. He was the only person on the team who could ever get you to react with such unhinged irritation.

Now, your heart dropped straight to your stomach at the horrifying thought of him having another piece of leverage over you. He could never know the truth. You couldn't let him see your vulnerability.

As you watched his eyes frantically trace the lines on your skin, his massive left hand slowly ascended, his fingers instinctively reaching out to gently touch your arm.

The impending contact made you take a sharp, terrified breath. Your fight-or-flight response slammed into overdrive, and you abruptly stammered out a quick, “I have to pee!” Before he could even respond, you bolted off the mattress, practically running toward the privacy of the bathroom.

You rubbed your face as you gulped, staring at your reflection in the mirror.

I have to pee? Seriously? You couldn’t have found anything better to say?

The faster we are done with this, the better, you thought to yourself, anxiously pacing around the marble bathroom. Steve had said the mission could take anywhere from two days to an entire week. You were strictly determined to wrap this up in two days max—because if you didn't, so help you God, you were going to go completely insane.

You splashed ice-cold water on your face, breathing out a long, shaky exhale. You could do this. You could endure this. This was absolutely nothing compared to the horrors you had survived in your past, but for some reason, why did it feel like this was even worse?

Steeling your nerves, you finally walked out of the bathroom, only to see Thor standing outside on the terrace, his massive back turned to you. Your eyes involuntarily roamed over his broad figure, and you breathed out a long breath to calm your racing heart.

He heard you step into the room—of course he did. He turned back toward you, locking his blue eyes onto your face as he made his way back inside. “I like it here,” he mumbled, looking around the room before his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Where are our things? That servant took—”

Your eyebrows shot up instantly. “Servant?”

“Yes. The one who took our bags.”

You let out an involuntary, nervous giggle as you sat back down on the edge of the bed, rolling your eyes. “Thor, he’s not a servant. He’s a bellboy.” His brow furrowed even deeper. “Bellboy?”

“Yes. People who carry luggage to the rooms in hotels are called bellboys.”

“So... they are servants?” he repeated stubbornly. You huffed, deeply annoyed by his royal dense-headedness. “Thor, do not call anyone a servant to their face. It’s incredibly belittling and—” Right as the lecture was leaving your mouth, a sharp knock echoed from the front door.

“Ah! The servant is here,” Thor declared triumphantly, immediately striding toward the entryway to open it.

“Thor, no—” you gasped, scrambling up from the bed. You were desperately trying to intercept him, wanting to avoid a catastrophic conversation where he would inevitably embarrass the poor resort worker.

But Thor was too fast. He swung the door open and casually leaned his massive shoulder against the wall, watching the bellboy roll your three giant suitcases into the villa’s foyer. However, instead of ignoring you, Thor’s blue eyes were suddenly gleaming with pure mischief as he looked across the room at your panicked face.

Your eyes narrowed into lethal slits. You fiercely mouthed a very deliberate, aggressive 'No' to him.

But seeing your panic only made his smug smile widen. The exact second he opened his annoying, beautiful mouth to speak, your instincts slammed into overdrive. Your brain completely short-circuited. You scrambled over to him in a blind, chaotic rush. Before he could utter a single syllable, you threw yourself into his personal space, your arms wrapping securely around his thick neck as you hopped completely on top of him, forcefully pressing his face right into the crook of your neck to physically muffle his mouth against your skin.

Thor froze dead in his tracks. The sudden impact of your body would have knocked any human man flat on his back, but he didn't even sway. His breath hitched sharply, and his massive hands instinctively shot down, grabbing the back of your thighs to hold you up without breaking a single sweat.

The bellboy’s eyes went completely wide at the unexpected, intensely passionate display.

Your face burned a scorching, furious red as you awkwardly tilted your head back, your arms still locked around Thor's neck. “Just... love my husband so much, you know? Can’t help myself,” you breathed out, your voice strained as you forced a bright, desperately in love smile.

The bellboy nodded quickly, his eyes still dinner-plate wide as he awkwardly parked the luggage.

Thor’s head had been pinned right against your neck, but he suddenly lifted his head up forcefully, his godlike strength easily overriding your desperate attempt to hold him still.

“Cannot keep her hands to herself, this one,” Thor told the bellboy, a deep, rumbling chuckle vibrating through his chest. He was smiling brightly, clearly enjoying every single second of this absolute ordeal.

You literally could not believe you had just done that. You were just trying to spare the poor worker’s feelings, and—okay, fine, you absolutely did not need to jump on top of him like a koala. But in that split second of panic, your brain had completely ruled out kissing him as an option—obviously, because why were you even thinking of it in the first place?—, leaving you with no choice but to launch yourself at him to take him off guard.

The mortified bellboy practically scrambled out of the villa, quickly wishing you both a good day before slamming the door shut.

You let out a massive sigh of relief, your forehead dropping against Thor's shoulder. You hadn't even been able to give the poor guy a tip. You shook your head in deep disapproval, your gaze finally snapping back up to look at Thor.

And that’s when your brain finally caught up to the reality of your physical situation.

The room was dead silent. Thor was staring down at you with an incredibly intense, dark, and unreadable gaze. He was still holding you entirely aloft in his arms. Your legs were circled tightly around his broad waist, his heavy hands were gripping the bare skin under your thighs, and your goddamn summer dress had completely ridden up your legs. The direct, calloused touch of his palms against your skin was burning you like liquid fire.

Your breathing suddenly grew shallow and fast. Oh god. You needed to get off of him right now.

You swallowed hard, subtly shifting your weight to slide down, but his grip remained like iron bands. You couldn't move.

“You can let go now, you know?” you whispered, your voice lacking its usual bite as you stared into his intense blue eyes.

Thor aggressively cleared his throat, looking momentarily startled by how close your lips were to his. But within a fraction of a second, that goddamn smug, teasing smile started slow-burning across his face. You knew that exact expression, and it never meant anything good for your sanity.

“Why?” he murmured, his voice dropping into a low, rumbling rasp that sent a wave of heat straight to your core. “You willingly hopped into my arms, Little Flame. I might as well enjoy the embrace.”

You gasped in absolute outrage, sharply slapping his broad chest with your palm as you desperately tried to wrench yourself out of his grip. He was being annoying, cruel, and completely, fucking insufferable.

“Just let go of me, you pervert!” you snapped, your right hand desperately attempting to peel his iron grip off your bare leg.

He finally let go of you with a low, rumbling chuckle, clearly enjoying annoying you far too much for his own good. “Pervert? I am not the one who jumped blindly into your arms, Little Flame.”

You flushed a furious crimson, sharply turning your back to him to hide the heat on your face. “Let's just fucking get ready and try to find some info on our objective,” you muttered tightly. You grabbed one of your massive suitcases, plopping it down onto the luggage rack with a heavy thud, and unzipped it. Behind you, his quiet, amused chuckles continued to bounce off the walls, making your blood boil with pure anger, but you forced your mouth shut.

You aggressively rummaged through your clothes, grabbing a white, high-cut skimpy monokini and a breezy dress to wear over it. Clucthing the fabric to your chest, you marched straight back into the bathroom to get ready.

You locked the door, taking a few ragged breaths to settle your racing pulse. You fixed your hair, and carefully slipped into the monokini and the dress. Standing in front of the mirror, you let out a long exhale, though your face was still burning with a deep, stubborn embarrassment. You could do this. It was just a mission.

You emerged from the bathroom, deliberately looking anywhere but at Thor as he smoothly stepped past you to go get changed himself. You walked over to the vanity, but a few moments later, his booming, deeply confused voice echoed from the other side of the door.

“This just looks like underwear.”

The bathroom door swung open, and Thor walked out, looking down at himself with a bewildered expression. The second your eyes landed on him, you literally choked on your own spit.

He was wearing a pair of simple navy swimming trunks—and absolutely nothing else. No shirt, no linen button-down, nothing to cover the massive expanse of his upper body.

Your eyes involuntarily danced over his frame, your mouth falling slightly agape as you took him in. The midday sun streaming through the glass walls caught every single ridge of his body. Your gaze traced the thick, prominent veins running over his forearms and bulging biceps, moving up to the broad, heavy expanse of his chest, and dropping down to his rock-hard, perfectly sculpted abs.

Oh, fuck. You felt a sharp, electric flutter ignite deep down in your stomach.

“We Asgardians just go into the waters naked to swim, you know,” he stated proudly, adjusting the waistband of the trunks. “This Earth clothing feels ridiculous.”

He was probably referring to times back home when he did exactly that—swimming freely in royal Asgardian lakes, likely with beautiful women. But the sudden, intrusive mental image of going swimming with a completely naked Thor made you gulp harshly, your eyes widening in panic.

And that was the exact moment he caught the state of your face.

Thor froze. His breath hitched in his throat as his blue eyes locked onto you. Your beautiful eyes had darkened with an intense, raw heat, your gaze completely fixed on his bare chest while your sinful lips remained slightly parted. As he watched, your tongue subtly darted out to lick your lower lip, your breathing turning shallow.

The God of Thunder felt his entire frame go completely rigid in the middle of the room.

You were not thinking what he thought you were... were you? For the first time, a heavy, pounding tension that had nothing to do with anger or bickering flooded the air around you. Thor felt his heart skip a beat against his ribs at the terrifying, intoxicating thought of you actually looking at him like that, willing him to step closer.

You closed your eyes then, and the sudden, intrusive thought of him being completely naked with other women infiltrated your mind. It filled you with a strange, unexplainable feeling—a sharp, poisonous ache that you had felt before in your life but couldn't quite put your finger on. Your stomach actively churned at the mental image, a dark wave of possessiveness and frustration twisting tight inside your core mkaing you open your eyes back.

The lung-burning silence broke when you abruptly gulped, tearing your gaze away from his abdomen as your cheeks flared a bright, defensive red.

“Put a shirt on, will you?” you muttered breathlessly.

Without waiting for a response, you spun on your heel and practically bolted out onto the sun-drenched balcony, desperately needing the breeze to help you catch your breath before you completely lost your mind.

Inside, Thor’s eyebrows furrowed deeply. He stood entirely frozen in the center of the room, his heart dropping straight to his stomach at the words you had just thrown at him.

Of course.

Why the hell would he ever think you wanted him? What was he thinking? You obviously were not attracted to him in the slightest. In fact, it was the exact opposite—you clearly disliked him so much that you couldn't even bear to see a glimpse of his bare upper body, which was why you had breathlessly demanded he cover himself up.

Thor let out a low, frustrated groan, bringing his massive hands up to aggressively palm his face. Why did he even care so much? Why did your rejection sting like needles on his skin?

Steeling his posture, he marched back over to his suitcase, snatched up a matching navy t-shirt, and harshly yanked it down over his head, hiding his chest from view. He desperately needed a fucking drink. He was entirely certain there wasn’t a single alcoholic beverage on this entire planet that could properly numb his brain right now. Not even heavy Asgardian ale could get him drunk enough at this point. He actually was fucking sure there wasn't a single drink in the entire universe that could make him drunk enough to forget about you, your angelic face, these unexplainable feelings, and the damning fact that you absolutely hated him.

“Let’s go,” his deep voice boomed behind you.

Startled out of your thoughts on the balcony, you turned around and walked back inside the air-conditioned room. You quietly followed him as he strode over to the heavy front door, swinging it open and standing firmly in the entryway as he waited for you to walk past.

You went out, your wedge sandals clicking softly on the stone path as you took a deep breath of the humid air, trying to reset your frayed nerves. As you made your way down toward the main infinity pool with Thor by your side, you suddenly felt a firm, sudden tug on your hand.

Because you had left the villa first, you had been walking a few paces ahead of him, but with one effortless pull, he brought you right back next to his side. His massive palm slid against yours, his fingers wrapping around your hand and engulfing it completely.

Your pulse gave a wild, treacherous flutter. Your eyes filled with immediate, defensive questions as you snapped your head up to look at him. Your hand felt like it was on fire, your skin practically melting under the direct heat of his touch. But before you could snap at him, Thor simply gestured with a subtle tilt of his chin toward a few couples who were walking past, watching you closely.

Right. Real couples walked hand-in-hand. You were supposed to be blissfully married, so this was completely ordinary. You forced yourself to nod, your fingers slowly sliding into his, intertwining with his firmly to sell the act.

Before heading over to the pool deck, you stopped by the wooden towel stand. You grabbed two plush beach towels, offering a polite, dazzling smile and a quiet thank you to the young worker who handed them over. As you began walking toward two vacant, prime sunbeds you had spotted near the edge of the water, Thor leaned down significantly to get right on your level.

His warm breath brushed against your ear as he whispered, “Lots of servants here.”

You immediately looked up at him, your eyes boring holes into his face. “Thor, they are resort employees. Stop it,” you hissed under your breath.

A smug, infuriating smile broke across his face. He was clearly enjoying the easy way he could piss you off. Still, his hand didn't release yours; his fingers remained tightly engulfed around your hand as you finally settled right next to the vacant sunbeds.

He finally let go of your hand, though his blue eyes remained highly alert, scanning the perimeter. He took in the entire scene—the crowded pool bar, the glittering water, and the exclusive guests. Upbeat lounge music pulsed quietly from the hidden outdoor speakers as his gaze tracked the crowd.

His eyes locked onto a specific target sitting near the bar: a man with a distinct scar slicing through his left eyebrow, short black hair, and deeply bronzed skin. The stool next to the man was vacant, and he was casually sipping on a dark amber liquor—what Thor recognized as whiskey, a Midgardian drink he had tried during his time with the Avengers.

Thor turned his head back to tell you he had spotted their mark, but the words got caught in his throat.

You had already slid your dress off, leaving it pooled on the side of the chair. You were now sitting down comfortably on the sunbed, your bare legs stretched out in front of you.

The sight of your exposed skin and the incredibly skimpy, high-cut beachwear made a sudden rush of blood boil furiously through Thor's veins. His gaze darkened instantly, his eyes helplessly mapping the smooth expanse of your collarbones, your chest, and your fucking perfect legs. Oh, fuck. He literally couldn't breathe. The air vanished from his lungs, and he averted his eyes toward the sea, his heart hammering so wildly against his ribs he thought it might actually beat its way straight out of his chest.

Desperate to cool down, he aggressively cleared his throat and grabbed the hem of his t-shirt, yanking it off his body.

Your eyes remained glued strictly ahead of you, stubbornly refusing to spare him a single glance. You heard the rustle of fabric and the distinct sound of him tossing the shirt onto the table, but you refused to face him. You unfortunately felt far too many weird, dangerous things flipping in your stomach whenever you looked at his bare chest, and you weren't about to risk your sanity now. Fuck this entire operation, really, you thought bitterly.

You heard the sunbed creak as his massive weight sat down on the lounge chair right next to yours. Your positions were exactly identical, your legs laid out parallel to each other on the matching cushions. You were close—entirely too close.

Needing to ground yourself and focus on the mission, you leaned over toward him, lowering your voice to a sharp, determined whisper. “We either finish this in two days or an entire week. Let’s get this over with quickly, so that I do not have to be your wife for another—” But you had made the catastrophic mistake of turning your head to look at him while you whispered. The words died completely in your throat, and the remaining oxygen was brutally taken right out of your lungs.

Thor had laid back against the cushion, his massive, bare arms raised up next to his head to support the back of his neck. The position made his biceps and shoulders bulge spectacularly under the sunlight, the lines of his chest stretching taut.

“...second,” you trailed off breathlessly, your voice dropping to a faint whisper as you quickly snapped your head back to stare blindly at the water in front of you.

“I agree,” Thor said simply, his deep voice carrying a gravelly, tight edge as he stared straight ahead, too. “This whole ordeal is ridiculous, I’ll tell you that. There is absolutely no need to drag it out.”

You laid perfectly still on the sunbed, the intense heat baking your skin, but it was nothing compared to the suffocating tension radiating from the man lying right next to you.

What’s happening to me? you wondered frantically in your mind, trying to ground yourself as you looked around the bustling pool area. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the man with the scarred eyebrow, and a cold jolt of recognition hit you. He looked familiar because he was your target. Valentin Moretti, the spoiled, arrogant playboy of the family who handled the high-society entertainment and smuggling logistics at the resort. He was the only middleman who held the digital decryption keys to the Dark Elf tech you and Thor were trying to locate.

And right now, he was staring right at you.

The second his eyes hit you, his posture shifted. His dark eyes narrowed, deliberately burning their way down the length of your body, lingering heavily on the high-cut lines of your white monokini and your bare legs. A smooth, predatory smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. He raised his whiskey glass in a silent, incredibly bold toast directly toward you.

“I was just about to tell you I spotted our target, but it seems like he spotted you,” Thor grumbled. He glared over at Valentin, his blue eyes darkening to a stormy hue as his hands clenched into massive, white-knuckled fists behind his head. “Why the fuck is he staring at you like that?” he muttered, every single muscle in his broad frame clenching tight as he fought a losing battle to keep himself from doing something stupid. Like striking the fucker with a stray bolt of lightning.

“Thor, keep your eyes straight ahead,” you hissed back under your breath, stubbornly refusing to look at him. “Tony said he runs the security and digital access keys for the entire compound. If he’s interested, it means we have an opening.”

“An opening to what?” Thor muttered, his tone sharply biting. “He is vile. Look at how he comports himself.”

“An opening for me to get to know hi—”

“Absolutely not,” he interrupted, his voice cutting through the humid air like a sharpened blade.

Your eyebrows furrowed deeply. “What do you mean? We need him, Thor!” you whisper-shouted, sharply turning your body toward him.

He was staring literal daggers across the pool deck, his biceps bulging prominently as he breathed. He looked absolutely furious. You scoffed internally. Did the mere thought of another man being interested in you anger him this much? Did he despise you so profoundly that he couldn't even entertain the thought that a man could actually find you attractive? You breathed sharply through your nose like an enraged bull; you absolutely could not let his fragile ego fuck up this entire operation.

“I am going to the ladies room,” you announced abruptly.

You sat up, your hips shifting with a natural, subtle sway as you swung your legs off the lounge chair. The movement drew Thor’s intense gaze straight to your back, his eyes tracking you with the exact same heavy focus as a certain someone across the pool deck. Thor’s jaw clenched so hard a muscle ticked in his cheek. He knew exactly what you were doing; he was not fucking stupid. You were trying to get away from him to corner the target alone. And he was absolutely not going to let you.

You marched into the restroom, deliberately waiting inside for two full minutes to give Valentin time to notice your absence. When you finally emerged back into the bright sunshine, your eyes instantly scanned the area for Thor, but you couldn't find his giant frame anywhere near the sunbeds. Your brows knitted in concern. Where the fuck is he? You shook your head, dismissing the thought.

Continuing your way, your strides remained purposeful, your hips swaying with an intoxicating rhythm as you confidently made your way over to the open-air pool bar. You stopped right next to two stols away from Valentin, placing your hands flat on the polished marble counter.

“A cosmopolitan, please,” you told the bartender, flashing a polite smile.

Beside you, Valentin smirked and got up, sliding onto the stool right next to you. “Good afternoon,” he smoothed, his voice dripping with an arrogant, upper-class accent as he looked down at your frame. His smirk widened. “I don’t mean to intrude, but I haven't seen your face at the Sanctuary before. I am Valentin.”

You immediately forced your perfected, dazzling smile onto your face, tilting your head up to look at him. “Hello,” you said, your voice smooth, breathy, and entirely welcoming as you deliberately played the part.

Valentin’s dark eyes flashed with deep approval at your response. But just as he opened his mouth to speak, a heavy, solid weight crashed into your side.

A massive, bare arm wrapped securely around your waist, his fingers gripping your skin so tightly that your breath instantly hitched in your throat.

“Here you are, darling,” Thor muttered, leaning down so close his lips practically brushed your ear, though his icy gaze remained dead-locked onto Valentin.

“Here I am,” you said through your teeth. You forced out a light, airy giggle for appearance's sake, but underneath the counter, you aggressively pinched the skin of his arm. Just what did he think he was doing?

In response, his grip only tightened, anchoring you flush against his solid hip.

Valentin looked between the two of you, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise, though his arrogant smirk remained firmly in place. “Your companion didn't seem to care you were there just minutes ago,” Valentin noted smoothly, turning his attention entirely back to you and deliberately stepping a fraction closer to your space. “If you ever find yourself bored with the company, cara, I am always hosting private tastings in the VIP lounge upstairs. A woman of your taste shouldn't be left to just bake in the sun.”

Valentin finally flicked a dismissive, incredibly brief glance toward Thor, taking in his towering height, his bare chest, and his silent, murderous expression. Valentin chuckled softly under his breath, entirely assuming Thor was just some brainless, handsome trophy husband you kept around for arm candy.

You felt your eyes briefly close in pure panic as Thor tried to keep his mouth shut. The tension radiating off him was terrifying; he pulled you even harder against his side, his thumb digging into your waist. Didn't this mortal idiot know who he was dealing with? The God of Thunder looked like he was about to rip Valentin’s head off his shoulders and toss it directly into the infinity pool.

“My husband,” you intervened quickly, emphasizing the word heavily while throwing Thor a sharp, lethal warning glare, “is just enjoying the peace. But thank you for the invitation, Valentin. We might just take you up on that.”

“I look forward to it,” Valentin murmured, his eyes giving your body one last, shameless scan down to your bare legs. He gave a polite nod and turned back toward the bar, entirely unaware of how close he had just come to an early grave.

Thor practically dragged you out of there, his heavy grip guiding you back toward the sunbeds.

The second Valentin was out of earshot, you let out a sharp breath, turning your head to hiss at him. “What do you think you're doing?!”

Thor didn't even spare you a glance, his jaw set in a rigid line as he kept on walking, dragging you right along by his side. “I am not doing anything.” You huffed, sharply slapping his bare arm. “Thor, you're going to ruin everything!” He acted completely deaf, ignoring your slap as he kept his heavy strides forward.

“Tomorrow,” you whispered fiercely, leaning in closer to his side so none of the passing guests could overhear. “I am going to have to flirt with him to get those access codes, and you will not do things like what you just did!”

Thor’s head snapped toward you so fast your breath caught harshly in your chest. His blue eyes were burning, fucking scorching into yours with an unhinged look.

“You will not,” he growled.

You scoffed loudly, throwing your head back. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he said flatly. He finally let go of your waist, sitting back down heavily on his sunbed.

You remained standing over him, your hands flying up in pure frustration. “Is the concept of a man finding me attractive such a foreign concept to you?!” you whisper-shouted, your chest heaving.

He didn't respond as he kept looking at Valentin, his jaw locking into a tight, defensive line. Ofcourse he did not, and that was the exact problem. Any man who set their eyes on you would find you attractive and he could not fucking stand it.

It's because you cannot stand her, his mind echoed, but he knew something was desperately wron g with him.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Valentin was still watching the two of you from the bar, clearly reveling in the fact that he had caused a little disagreement between the stunning woman and her brute of a husband. Thor’s eyes darkened even further as he tracked Valentin's amused expression.

Your gaze followed Thor's, landing right on the smug target.

“Are you serious?” you muttered to Thor. Then, turning your head toward the bar, you deliberately forced a sweet smile and gave Valentin a little, subtle wave.

You turned back to Thor, sitting down forcefully on your own sunbed. “I will do what I have to do, Thor,” you said coldly, snatching up a glossy fashion magazine from the side table—one of the resort’s complimentary services.

“We’ll see about that,” Thor muttered back, his voice dangerous.

You didn't respond, your own jaw locking in a fury so intense you wanted to wrap your hands around his thick neck and strangle him.

So yeah, your day was going exactly the same. You had wanted to strangle him in the morning, and you wanted to strangle him right now. Not a single thing had changed, other than the fact that he was now your supposed husband.

You aggressively kept on turning the glossy pages of the magazine, but your gaze followed Valentin precisely. Between the articles, your sharp eyes roamed over every single person on the pool deck, dissecting them and their behaviors, mapping out the security hierarchy of the resort. But you got bored after a while, the heat and the tension becoming too much to sit through. Deciding you needed a distraction, you stood up from your sunbed to go into the pool.

The moment you stood, Thor’s intense gaze focused directly in on your stomach. The air left his lungs. There, cutting across your midriff, were the exact same faint, jagged scars. His blood ran entirely cold. Just how many of those did you have hidden across your body? He felt his stomach churn painfully, his hands going completely cold despite the blistering sun. But just as he watched you walk down the shallow steps into the water, he fucking saw Valentin look at you again.

Just why did this guy not give up?

Thor felt something violent biting at him inside—something so utterly convincing and overwhelming that his face hardened into stone. He got up immediately, his towering frame casting a shadow over the lounge chairs as he followed you straight into the water.

You were already in the pool, the cold water instantly relieving your burning skin. You swam smoothly toward the far edge, propping your elbows up on the smooth marble so you could lay your head on your hands and finally relax.

Just as you were settling in, a calm expression finally washing over your face, the entire pool rattled with the force of someone jumping in.

You whipped your head around, your eyes wide with irritation. Thor emerged from underwater a split second later, a smug, breathless smile on his face as he broke the surface just inches away from you.

“Can I not relax in peace now?” you snapped between your teeth.

But the remaining words were brutally taken right out of your lungs. Before you could slide away, Thor wrapped his massive hands securely around the back of your bare thighs, effortlessly lifting your body up in the water. The sudden momentum left you with no choice but to instinctively circle your legs around his broad waist to keep from slipping.

“What are you doing?” you whispered into his ear, completely breathless. Despite the panic racing through your veins, you forced a bright, blinding honeymoon smile for the sake of the couples swimming near you, whose bewildered, intrigued expressions were already focused entirely on the two of you.

“I am enjoying the cold water with my wife,” he murmured back. His warm breath fanned heavily over the sensitive skin of your neck as he intentionally cornered you, crowding your front while your back was pressed against the marble edge of the pool you had been relaxing on seconds ago.

Your hands instinctively found his neck, your fingers gripping his shoulders while your thumbs lightly played with the short hairs at the nape of his neck. You looked at him, your lips dangling a mere inch away from his. You could feel his steady breath fanning over your mouth, making your lips tingle with soul-burning want.

Why the hell were your lips tingling with want? Oh, god. Your face burned with a furious, internal heat as your eyes helplessly locked onto his mouth. Both of your chests heaved, brushing against one another in the water.

“I am not your real wife, Thor,” you breathed out, trying desperately to ground yourself. “I don’t need you touching me every five seconds—”

“I don’t need anyone here thinking you are available.”

“What?” you whispered, your heart giving a massive flutter against your ribs.

“Fake or not, Little Flame,” he growled softly, his blue eyes turning incredibly dark as his grip on your thighs tightened. “I am your fucking husband, and every man on this island will know it. I will make sure of it.”

He smirked, and before you could even process his words, he leaned in and pressed a firm, lingering kiss directly to your flushed cheek. You gasped in absolute shock, your skin scorching where his lips met your face. As he pulled back just a fraction, your noses brushed. You looked directly into his eyes, feeling yourself grow hotter and hotter and hotter—

“My honorary guests! You made it!”

A booming, boisterous voice suddenly erupted from above you. You both snapped your heads up, startled out of the suffocating bubble, and saw Alejandro Moretti himself standing on the pool deck. He was smiling down at the two of you, his arms spread wide in a grand, welcoming gesture.

You aggressively cleared your throat, your training forcing you to seamlessly recover. “Hello, Mr. Moretti. It's a pleasure to meet you,” you said, forcing a dazzling smile as you introduced yourself and extended a wet hand up toward the him.

He immediately took it, bowing his head slightly. “It is my absolute pleasure,” he said warmly. “You are the wife of the mighty Thor, after all!” He chuckled loudly, before turning his glowing gaze entirely back to Thor. “Big fan, man. Big fan.”

Moretti extended his hand toward him, and Thor took it, a wide, proud smile immediately breaking across his face because he was being praised. God, he absolutely loved being praised, didn't he?

Moretti started talking rapidly, listing off Thor’s various accomplishments while keeping a firm, enthusiastic grip on his hand. Rolling your eyes privately, you used the distraction to unwrap your legs from Thor's waist, pulling yourself off his torso and slipping back into the water.

The moment you detached yourself, Thor's hand snapped out, tightening firmly around your wrist. He immediately tore his attention away from Moretti, looking down at you. “Where are you going, sweetheart?”

The casual nickname made your entire stomach flutter dangerously.

“Gonna go dry off, honey,” you said, matching his energy as you pulled yourself up slightly to plant a swift, fake peck on his cheek. “Just a bit cold.”

“I will come with you,” Thor insisted immediately, his cheek burninh as his eyes tracking your movement.

“Ah, newlyweds,” Moretti chuckled fondly at the display, shaking his head. “Always so full of love, am I right?”

You gave him a dry, polite chuckle and quickly swam toward the pool steps to get out. As you and Thor stepped onto the stone deck, grabbing your towels, Moretti walked right alongside you, refusing to leave Thor’s side for even a single second. It was like he wanted Thor all to himself.

How can someone not want him, though? the thought involuntarily slipped into your mind.

You froze dead in your tracks, your towel clutched tightly in your hands as your own mind echoed back to you.

No. You did not want him. Certainly not. You didn't, you couldn't—

You closed your eyes, letting out a long, defeated sigh.

You fucking wanted him. And he could never know.

—

You were getting ready, painting a sharp, precise wing of black eyeliner over your eyelid as you desperately tried to keep yourself intact.

Moretti had invited the both of you to the exclusive resort party taking place tonight. Well, you were going to go either way for the sake of the mission, but he had explicitly invited you as his honorary guests.

After the you realizedthat you actually wanted Thor, you had started to see him in an entirely different light. You had felt physically nauseous by the fact that you wanted him, wanting nothing more than to run back to the villa to self-reflect and figure out exactly where your life had gone wrong. But he had not left you alone for a single second. The moment you had said you were going to the room, he had immediately gotten up and followed you back to the room. He had looked so genuinely caring while doing it, which only made an unwelcome swarm of butterflies erupt in your stomach. And the fact that he looked so so good—

Ugh, you were doing it again.

“Are you ready, Little Flame?” came Thor’s deep voice from behind the bathroom door.

You took one good look at yourself in the mirror, your gaze traveling down from your flawless makeup to the white midi dress that hugged your curves perfectly, down to your elegant heeled sandals. You looked hot. Absolutely lethal.

You swung the bathroom door open, only to be hit dead-on with the sight of him waiting in the foyer.

His lips parted, falling slightly agape as his eyes traveled over you, taking you in. His towering, formidable frame was clad in tailored cream linen trousers and a crisp white linen shirt, finished with beige loafers.

Your heart stopped dead in your chest. Was he actively trying to kill you? He was already breathtakingly handsome on a regular day, but the fact that he was dressing like that was doing completely unspeakable things to your sanity.

Thor felt the air brutally ripped from his lungs the exact second you emerged. His blue eyes aggressively roamed over your face, your sharp eyeliner, and the way the white dress accentuated your flawless form. Now, why the hell did you have to look like this and still have the absolute audacity to hate him?

His breathing became distinctly ragged, his eyes darkening to a stormy, dangerous hue as the possessive thought of other men witnessing your beauty tonight overtook his mind. But he forced his muscles to relax as he reminded himself that this hotel was strictly full of wealthy couples. It was fine. You were anchored to him. Right?

“Let’s go, big guy,” you said, averting your gaze in absolute panic as you brushed past his broad shoulder and made your way out of the villa.

Thor’s eyebrows shot up in utter bewilderment. He stood frozen for a second before turning to follow you out onto the stone path closing the door behind him, his voice clearly dripping with a deep, rumbling amusement. “Big guy?”

Your face burned a scorching, furious hot at your own slip of the tongue. You usually never called him anything other than petty names specifically engineered to irritate him, so what the fuck was that now?

“You... are massive. And a man?” you stammered out, desperately trying to make light of the situation as you walked ahead of him, your heels clicking sharply.

“Hm,” Thor just grunted behind you. You couldn't see his face, but you could hear the triumphant smile in his voice as the two of you made your way down toward dinner.

The revelation that you were actually attracted to him was making you go completely crazy, and you were already fucking it all up. Your brain was entirely short-circuiting over how mind-numbingly handsome he looked in that white linen shirt, and calling him big guy of all things was proof that you were losing your edge. All through dinner, you were on high alert, desperately trying to hide your lingering glimpses toward his muscular arms and his stupidly handsome face, praying he wouldn't notice the sudden shift in your behavior.

Dinner itself had been an exercise in damage control. Thor had absolutely loved the food, boisterously shouting “Another!” to the waitstaff every time he finished a plate, leaving you to look at the waiters with highly apologetic eyes. You had quickly smoothed it over, telling them with a charming laugh how incredibly enthusiastic your husband was about their exquisite cuisine. Far from being offended, the staff had been completely fascinated by Thor, even asking for his signature—though the poor guys couldn't take any pictures due to the resort's strict high-society privacy policy.

Once dinner was finally over, you made your way to the actual party.

The bass from the music blasted your ears off the second you walked through the entrance. Thor’s heavy hand was firmly circled around your bare waist, anchoring you to his side as you looked around the crowded open-air venue. You bit your lip, doing everything in your power to mask your fastened heartbeat and the slight panic tracing your expression. To maintain the doting newlyweds facade, your own arm was stretched across Thor’s broad back.

And god, how magnificent that back was. Through the thin linen of his shirt, you could feel the solid, dangerous planes of his muscles right beneath your palm. It made you wonder, in a rogue, intrusive thought, if you could paint that flawless skin red with your nails, leaving little scratches down his—

oh my god, shut up, girl, you fiercely scolded yourself in your mind, your face flashing a blistering hot.

As you walked deeper into the VIP section toward Alejandro Moretti’s table, you spotted Valentin right next to him.

The exact millisecond Valentin came into view, you could feel every single muscle in Thor’s body tense up beneath your hand. Pure instinct took over, you gave the small of his back a soft, deliberate little squeeze, a silent warning to stay grounded.

The touch made Thor instantly look down at you, his blue eyes full of an intense, sweeping emotion you couldn't quite name. Your mind raced. Why the fuck were you trying to calm him down? And why the hell was he getting so intensely tense in the first place?

“Don’t make a scene,” you whispered fiercely up to him, looking at him through your lashes as you kept your voice strictly beneath the thumping bass.

“Do not make me make a scene,” he grumbled back, his deep voice heavily unpleased as his grip on your waist tightened.

Alejandro Moretti immediately got up from his leather booth the moment he saw you approach. “Ah! Here they are!” he announced loudly, his arms thrown wide open in a grand greeting.

Thor smiled brightly, his deep, booming laugh filling your ears as he stepped forward to enthusiastically embrace the billionaire, playing the part of the larger-than-life husband a little too well. You let out a bright, airy laugh right on cue, looking up at them as you seamlessly executed the role of the loving, supportive wife.

From across the table, Valentin was staring directly at you, a confident, knowing smirk pulling at his lips.

Alejandro turned proudly to his younger brother, gesturing toward the two of you. “My guests of honor, Valentin! This is Thor, and his lovely wife.”

Valentin’s dark eyebrows furrowed in immediate confusion. “Thor?”

“Yes! The God of Thunder!” Alejandro chuckled heartily, totally oblivious to the shift in the air as he gestured for everyone to sit down.

The arrogant smirk was instantly wiped entirely off Valentin’s face. He stood frozen, likely wondering how the hell he hadn't recognized the literal Avenger at the pool bar earlier.

“Ah,” Valentin cleared his throat, cautiously extending his hand across the table, even as Thor threw absolute, unyielding daggers at him with his icy gaze. “My pleasure.”

Thor’s lips pulled into a wide, bright smile as he reached out and took Valentin’s hand. But you knew that exact smile entirely too well—it was the predatory, sharp-edged smile he regularly threw at you whenever you managed to annoy him to death in public. It was the smile of a Thor who was profoundly angry, masking his rage with a lethally graceful diplomacy.

His godlike grip must have tightened a fraction too much around Valentin’s fingers, because the smug playboy’s face instantly grimaced in pain, his knuckles turning white under the force of the god’s hand.

You tapped lightly on Thor’s elbow, giving him a subtle, pointed signal to let go before he completely pulverized the man's hand. He finally released his grip, though his blue eyes continued to burn right through Valentin, his other arm instantly wrapping tight around your waist again to pull you back into his orbit.

You went to sit down in the plush leather booth, but Thor deliberately shuffled his massive frame, placing himself directly between you and Valentin to completely block the playboy's line of sight. You rolled your eyes privately. He was obviously being this intensely possessive because the entire resort had to believe you were blissfully married, but he was playing the part a little too well for your sanity.

Alejandro, ever the fanboy, was visibly disappointed by the seating arrangement—he was now sitting on your other side instead of right next to the God of Thunder—but he stopped himself from saying anything to avoid offending his royal guest.

So began the endless praises for Thor.

“I must say, King Thor, having you here at the Sanctuary is a historic honor!” Alejandro beamed, gesturing for a waiter to pour more whiskey. “The stories of your victories on Earth, the Battle of New York, the triumph over Malekith... truly spectacular! A god walking among mortals!”

Thor smiled brightly, his booming laugh easily cutting through the lounge music as his arm remained locked securely around your waist, his thumb lazily stroking your side through the fabric of your dress. “Ah, you are too kind, Alejandro! But a King must protect the realms. The battle against the Dark Elves was indeed a fierce one, requiring absolute precision and power.”

As he spoke the word precision, Thor casually leaned back, his icy gaze flicking past you to check if Valentin was looking at you. Finding Valentin’s eyes darting toward your bare shoulders, Thor’s grip on your waist tightened possessively, his jaw clenching as he seamlessly continued his story. “We had to secure ancient, dangerous technologies to ensure they never fell into the wrong hands. It takes a truly formidable force to handle such secrets.”

“Incredible,” Alejandro said, hanging on his every word. “And to manage such cosmic feats while keeping a beautiful wife by your side!”

“She is my greatest anchor,” Thor murmured, his deep voice dropping into a low tone as he turned his head to look down at you. His eyes searched your face with a burning, unreadable intensity that made your heart skip a violent beat. “No matter how chaotic the universe becomes, she is the only one who can truly command my attention.”

You gulped, your eyes helplessly searching his face, desperately trying to read the heavy gravity in his expression. But before you could decipher it, a question cut through the air—one you should have anticipated much sooner.

“So, how did you two meet?” Valentin asked, his voice smooth as he leaned forward. His dark eyes actively tried to find your frame past Thor's broad shoulders, but Thor was absolutely wiping you from his sight, shifting his weight to keep you entirely hidden.

Your blood ran cold. A sudden wave of panic rushed through you, and as you snapped your eyes to Thor, you saw the exact same flash of panic mirrored in his blue eyes. You had never rehearsed a backstory.

“I saw him—” you began hastily, just as Thor started, “We saw each other—”

Your voices mixed awkwardly over the thumping bass of the music. Alejandro looked between the two of you expectantly, his eyebrows raised.

You quickly forced a light, melodic laugh, covering the slip-up as you spoke over each other. Tilting your head up, you offered Thor a brilliant, adoring smile. “My husband should tell you about this one. He’s a real good storyteller, aren't you, darling?” You squeezed his shoulder, your fingers digging into his shirt.

Thor’s hold tightened around your waist, his thumb pressing firmly into your side. “I must let you take over this one, my dear. Your perspective is far more enchanting.”

“I insist,” you said, your voice dripping sweet as honey, though you locked eyes with him in a silent, lethal challenge. You knew pushing the spotlight onto him annoyed him to his absolute core.

“Very well,” he grumbled under his breath, leaning back into the booth. He cleared his throat, his posture shifting into something commanding. Valentin had slid over a bit to the side of the table, desperate to finally see you both, his sharp eyes intensely dissecting the two of you for any cracks in the facade.

“We met years ago, when she was first recruited to the team,” Thor began, his deep baritone rumbling through his chest. He paused, his blue eyes dropping down to look at you, the heavy lounge music suddenly fading into absolute background noise. “I saw her walk into the room. A beautiful woman. Truly, the most breathtaking creature I had ever laid my eyes upon.”

You looked up at him, fully expecting to see a detached, calculated look in his eyes—the face of a soldier executing a calculated lie. But your heart slammed against your ribs. You were shaken to your core at the raw, truthful look in his gaze. Your breath hitched, turning ragged in your chest.

He chuckled softly, the sound low and intimate, as if he had completely forgotten Alejandro and Valentin were even sitting across from them. “But she looked like she had dark, stormy clouds swarming all over her. She was so heavily guarded. So, my brain short-circuited, and I called her gloomy.”

Alejandro’s eyes widened, a grin breaking across his face. “No way!”

Your jaw clenched as the vivid memory made your blood boil all over again. Why the fuck was he telling them what actually happened?

“I know, I shouldn't have,” Thor murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. His gaze was burning into you, scorching you with a look that made your skin prickle. “But seeing her face... my mind simply stopped working. That was the only thing I could utter. And do you know what she did?” He looked over at Alejandro, a genuine, fond smile pulling at his lips. “She didn't cower. She didn't stay silent. She yelled at me. She marched right up to my face and screamed about what a massive, insufferable asshole I was.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in deep, defensive confusion. Wht was he chuckling about that? He had hated you for it.

“She was the first woman to ever yell at me like that, without a single shred of fear, without holding back an ounce of her fire,” Thor said, his voice a raspy register, thick with a devotion that felt terrifyingly real. He reached down, his large hand gently cupping the side of your face, his thumb softly tracing your cheekbone. The tender touch sent a violent jolt of electricity straight down your spine. “That’s when I realized... right there, in the middle of her fury. That’s when I realized she was the love of my life.”

You gulped, your hands clenching into tight fists against your lap. The air was brutally ripped from your lungs. You literally couldn't breathe under the sheer weight of his stare. He was looking down at you as if you were the most precious, sacred thing he had ever been allowed to hold.

“Then, I chased her for years,” Thor continued smoothly, finally tearing his gaze away from your frozen face to smile at Alejandro. “Trying to get her to agree to a single date. I brought flowers to her quarters every single day, trying to melt the ice. She finally caved in after a while... and here we are.”

Thor cleared his throat letting go of your face and adjusting his shirt as Alejandro let out a captivated sigh.

Your gaze remained completely stuck on the line of Thor's neck, your mind spinning in absolute confusion. He had sounded so entirely sincere when he described your beauty. The way he explained falling in love with your fire, it sounded like poetry.

He isn't in love with you, a harsh, grounding voice violently intervened in your mind. He is lying through his teeth to save the mission. He made it all up. You desperately tried to pull yourself together, reciting the mantra over and over: He hates you. He has hated you for years.

But as you sat there, enveloped in the heat of his massive body, a sharp ache bloomed deep in your chest at the reminder of his hatred.

Why did your chest ache at his hatred towards you? And why did it hurt so bad?

“That is just beautiful,” Alejandro breathed, raising his glass in a toast. “A match made in the heavens, truly.”

You swallowed the thick lump in your throat, forcefully shaking the daze out of your head. Forcing your muscles to relax, you put on a flawless, dazzling smile for show, leaning deeper into your fake husband's side while your heart shattered quietly into a million pieces.

The subject changed then, Alejandro and Thor talking about other things while Thor gave you occasional little pecks on your cheek, his lips lingering just enough to keep your heart beating frantically in your mouth.

“Why haven't you two kissed?” Valentin asked suddenly, his voice sharply cutting through the conversation of the two men. His dark eyes roamed all over your face, calculating and deeply skeptical.

What?

Thor turned toward him immediately, his posture shifting into something lethal. “What do you mean, mortal? I’ve been doing nothing but kiss her since we sat down.” His blue eyes narrowed into dangerous slits at Valentin.

“You keep kissing her on her cheeks. Why not on the lips?” Valentin pushed, his gaze sharp and dissecting.

Thor’s gaze darkened to absolute midnight. “It is not your place to ask such questions.”

The playboy had been watching you far too closely; you should’ve seen this one coming. Valentin leaned back, a smug, accusatory grin slowly returning to his face. “You’re acting like you’re pretending—”

Your heart stopped dead in your chest.

“Do not speak one more word, mortal,” Thor spoke, his deep voice dropping an octave as he raised a single, threatening finger.

Alejandro’s expression changed instantly. He looked at his brother with sudden seriousness, his tone sharp. “Leave our guests alone, Val.” But then, Alejandro’s eyes dropped down to the floor for a split second, as if he were mentally calculating something. He turned back toward you, his brow furrowing. “But... he is right. Why haven't you kissed her?”

Your heart started beating faster and faster, a wave of ice-cold panic rushing to your fingertips. Your cover was about to be completely blown right here in the VIP section. Thor’s gaze darkened even further, clearly unpleased and deeply tense at being questioned. This was not good. You had to do something, and you had to do it right now.

“She is my wife—” Thor started angrily, but you smoothly interfered.

With an effortless, confident laugh, you dismissed the two brothers with a casual wave of your hand, acting as if they were nothing more than little, annoying flies. Your left hand found Thor’s massive bicep as you elegantly crossed your legs, slanting them directly over his thick thighs.

Responding to the sudden contact, Thor's arm instinctively wrapped around your back, his eyes snapping down to look at you immediately. What were you doing?

“My husband and I are very passionate,” you said, your voice dripping with a sultry, unbothered confidence as your hand trailed seductively over the broad expanse of his chest. “We try to keep the PDA to a minimum so we don't make people uncomfortable. Should we show them, honey?”

You looked completely unshakable, but inside, your heart was threatening to leap straight out of your chest. The skin of your legs burned where your thighs were glued to his.

Thor’s chest heaved tightly beneath your fingers as you looked up at him through your lashes. His heart missed a beat at the breathtaking sight of you in his lap. Fuck. You both knew exactly what had to be done right now, or the entire mission was over.

Thor’s large hand found the back of your neck, his fingers tightening securely. “Music to my fucking ears, darling,” he growled.

And then, he claimed your lips in an instant. The force of the impact took the remaining breath right out of your lungs. Your left hand instinctively grabbed the back of his neck, your fingers anchoring into his skin, while your other hand remained flat against his heaving chest. Your mouths moved in tandem, a low, helpless sigh of contentment pouring from your throat straight into the kiss. Your head tilted to the side, completely surrendering to the heat.

His right hand on your back slid downward to your waist, grabbing you with an iron, desperate tightness, as if he never intended to let you go for the rest of his immortal life. His other hand moved from the back of your neck up to your head, his thick fingers tangling aggressively through your hair, tilting your face up by giving a firm, sudden tug on your hair. You gasped into his mouth, your teeth sharply biting his lower lip in response. Thor let out a low grunt, his kisses instantly becoming more fervent, deeper, and completely unhinged. You were drowning in him.

Next to you, Alejandro and Valentin looked at each other, their faces flushing as they clearly regretted ever opening their mouths. They were visibly uncomfortable—good. They deserved to be, so they would never question a single thing about the two of you again.

He was entirely consuming you, and gods, was he liking it. He felt the soft circle of your thumb over the nape of his neck, sending a violent wave of chills straight down his spine. You tasted sweet—sweeter than any other lips he had ever tasted in his thousand years of life. Thor licked at the seam of your lips once, a non-verbal command motioning for you to open up for him. You tried to fight it for a split second, a last shred of self-preservation, but he forcefully made you part them by giving your lower lip another sharp bite and executing a firm tug on your hair.

You gasped, your chest heaving against his as he glided his tongue over yours. He was so good at this. So fucking good that you completely forgot where you were, forgot the mission, forgot anyone else existed besides him. He tugged tightly on your waist, trying to pull your body even closer into his mass, but you were already entirely glued to him, his radiating heat burning straight through your side.

Alejandro loudly cleared his throat, but you both kept on going like there was no tomorrow, still kissing him with a desperate, hidden hunger, as if you knew you would never get the chance to hold him like this ever again.

“Okay. We get it,” Valentin muttered, his voice clearly irritated and completely full of deep regret.

Thor let out a heavy grunt, finally parting his lips from yours. A thin, glistening string of saliva formed between your lips before breaking in the dim light. You looked up at him, your eyes completely dazed over, your hair beautifully messed up from his heavy hand, and your lips visibly swollen and red. He stared down at you, his own lips flushed and his pupils blown incredibly wide as his chest rose and fell in ragged breaths.

Taking a shallow breath, you slowly turned your head toward the other two men, a wicked, victorious smile pulling at your lips. “See?” you said.

You tried not to give away how much his kiss had affected you, but you knew you were a fucking mess. Your heart was threatening to leap out of your chest, your lungs heaving fast as you gulped, desperately trying to calm yourself down. How the hell did he affect you this much?

And he was still holding you, his arm wrapped incredibly tight around your waist as he kept looking down at you. His own broad chest was heaving hard as he fought a losing battle to get himself back under control.

It was just a damn kiss for the mission. He shouldn't be this completely unhinged by it. But he felt his pulse fasten more and more the longer he sat there. You had kissed him. You—the bane of his very existence, the woman who had spent years yelling at him and riling him up—had kissed him, and he had liked it. He had liked it so much that a dark, primitive part of his mind wanted nothing more than to drag you right back to his lips, to kiss you heavily until you were breathless, and to roam his hands all over your bare skin, thats all—nothing big really.

He fucking wanted you, and it was nothing big—who was he kidding? It was probably the biggest newsflash in his entire thousand-year lifetime. He wanted you so much that he felt it shaking the very foundations of his immortal soul.

I want her, his mind echoed fiercely. I want her, I want to consume her, I want to be completely consumed by her.

Thor averted his eyes toward the table, his jaw locking. Fuck. How the hell did this happen?

“Yes, we get it, damn,” Alejandro said, breaking the heavy silence with a loud laugh, holding his hands up in surrender.

Valentin, however, was a completely different story. His dark, calculating gaze was still locked dead on your face, intensely trying to decipher the lingering daze in your eyes, trying to see if there was still a crack in the armor—if he could keep on pursuing you.

You noticed his stare immediately, your eyes locking onto his. A sharp jolt of reality hit you. You were sitting in Thor's lap, your thighs crossed over his, kissed by him so thoroughly that your mind had gone entirely blank. You had completely forgotten about your objective.

The codes. You needed the damn digital decryption keys.

You had told Thor earlier that you would handle Valentin tomorrow, but after the possessive display he had just put on, he would clearly find a way to interfere if you tried to flirt with the man tomorrow. It had to be tonight. It had to happen right now under the cover of this party.

Your mind rapidly formulated a plan: you had to first find a way to get away from Thor, corner Valentin alone at the bar, seduce him, and slip a few drops of truth serum into his whiskey glass to extract the server access codes.

It was a perfect, textbook assassin execution. But as you sat there, feeling the heavy, protective weight of Thor's hand on your hip, you realized something. You didn't want to leave the comfort of Thor's embrace.

Oh, how thoroughly, hopelessly fucked you were.

You had to get it together. Bracing yourself, you tried lifting your legs off Thor’s lap, but the exact second you shifted, his iron hold on your waist tightened. His eyebrows furrowed into a hard line, and his questioning, blazing blue gaze snapped up to lock onto yours. He didn’t say a word, but the look in his eyes was loudly demanding to know exactly where the hell you thought you were going.

Why was he acting like this? Why was he looking at you as if that kiss had completely unhinged him just as much as it had affected you?

You helplessly looked into his eyes, your gaze involuntarily dropping down to his swollen lips before snapping back up to his stare. “I’m just going to the bar,” you murmured.

“I’ll come with you,” he said immediately. His deep voice carried a rough, unyielding edge, his instincts focusing entirely on one single objective: keep that vile mortal fucker as far away from you as humanly possible.

“No!—” you scrambled out, a little too desperately, before quickly forcing a soft, reassuring smile to maintain the act. “I’ll be back in a second, honey. It’s okay.”

This felt devastatingly real. He looked genuinely jealous, his possessive aura radiating off him in suffocating waves.

“She can go alone, my friend. I own this entire establishment; nothing could possibly happen to her here,” Alejandro intervened with a booming laugh, reassuring the tense god.

Taking the opening, you carefully slipped out of Thor’s tight grip and stood up. The sudden lack of his heavy hands and burning heat against your skin left you feeling instantly cold, a sudden pang of withdrawal hitting you in the chest. You stubbornly ignored it. Catching Valentin’s eye across the table, you held his gaze for a few seconds longer than any happily married woman ever should, throwing him a subtle, inviting tilt of your head before turning on your heel and making your way toward the crowded bar—finally out of Thor’s direct line of sight.

You knew Valentin would make up a pathetic excuse to follow you within minutes. Arriving at the bar, you caught the bartender’s attention. “A virgin mojito, please,” you ordered smoothly. You were a professional; you were absolutely not going to consume a single drop of alcohol while on an active extraction mission.

You waited for a few minutes, slowly sipping on your refreshing mocktail while keeping your perimeter scan active. Right on cue, a smooth, arrogant voice slithered in next to your ear.

“I take it you didn’t look at me like that back there just to have a drink all by yourself?”

Valentin slid onto the barstool right next to you, his eyes brimming with a smug, predatory confidence.

A slow, practiced smirk pulled at your lips as you gracefully turned your upper body toward him, leaning one elbow against the counter. “I don’t think I get what you mean, Valentin.”

“Don’t play innocent. It’s not a good look on you,” he murmured, his eyes boldly dropping down to the neckline of your dress before rising back to your face. “Though, I must admit... I really like this whole going-around-his-back thing. A dangerous woman gets me thrilled.”

“Hm,” you mumbled, your smile becoming as beautiful and lethal as a viper's. You leaned in a fraction closer into his personal space, letting your voice drop into a sultry, confidential whisper. “Are you just going to stand there talking, or are you gonna have a drink with me?”

Valentin’s smirk widened, completely intoxicated by the sudden green light. “I could never say no to a woman like you.” He immediately raised a hand to the bartender. “Get me a double Macallan, neat.”

As the bartender turned around to pour the amber liquor, you covertly slid your right hand into the small, hidden pocket built into the lining of your white midi dress. Your fingertips brushed against the tiny, cold glass vial containing S.H.I.E.L.D.-issued truth serum—colorless, odorless, and fast-acting.

The bartender placed the heavy crystal whiskey glass right in front of Valentin.

“You know,” you purred, deliberately reaching across Valentin's chest to grab a small bowl of nuts from the opposite side of his stool. The intentional movement forced your bare shoulder to brush heavily against his chest, completely breaking his concentration as his eyes locked onto your neck.

With a fluid, invisible grace, your thumb flicked the cap off the vial. As your arm crossed over his open whiskey glass, you seamlessly dropped three drops of the serum directly into the amber liquid.

You pulled back, placing the bowl between you with an innocent, dazzling smile. “A toast. To private tastings.”

“To private tastings,” Valentin echoed darkly, completely oblivious. He picked up the crystal glass and took a massive, confident gulp of the whiskey, swallowing the serum down in one smooth motion.

You counted the seconds in your head. Three. Two. One.

Almost instantly, Valentin’s posture relaxed a fraction too much. The sharp, predatory spark in his eyes suddenly dulled into a slight, hazy glaze, his blinking slowing down as the neural inhibitors rapidly flooded his system, forcing his vocal cords to lose all capacity for deception.

Your smirk turned razor-sharp. It was time to get to work.

“Valentin,” you whispered, leaning in so close your breath brushed his ear, masking your interrogation beneath the thumping bass of the party. “Let’s talk about your brother’s collection. Where are the digital decryption keys for the Dark Elf technology stored?”

Valentin’s jaw loosened, his voice coming out completely flat, devoid of its previous arrogant inflection. “The main encryption drive stays locked in the master server vault... sub-level two of the main villa compound. Hold on why are you asking me th—”

“And how do I bypass the biometric firewall?” you cut him off before he could think.

“The security bypass code changes every twelve hours,” Valentin droned automatically, his hand resting limply against the counter.

“Mhm, and what is it lets say... tomorrow night?” you pushed seamlessly, your eyes locked onto his dazed face.

“Tomorrow night's terminal override sequence for the vault is... Alpha-Niner-Seven-X-Ray-Delta.”

Bingo.

Your brain instantly memorized the alphanumeric sequence, a cold, triumphant rush of adrenaline flooding your veins. You had the codes for tomorrow. The entire mission could be wrapped up in less than three days, just like you wanted. You could finally leave this godforsaken resort, get away from this cover, and most importantly—get away from the dangerous, addictive pull of the God of Thunder.

Valentin pouted as he looked at you, his eyes glassy and confused under the weight of the serum. "But why are you asking me all th—"

“I have to go, dear,” you cut him off quickly, placing a hand on his bicep and giving it a soothing squeeze to keep him compliant.

But his hand snapped up, gripping your arm to keep you from pulling away. “No, you can't leave. I had plans for us tonight...”

“No plans for us today,” you cooed, lowering your voice to a soft, hypnotic purr as you playfully booped his nose. He pouted even more at the gesture. You mentally rolled your eyes, already looking back toward the crowded VIP booth to check on Thor.

“But I wanted to fuck you—“

You whipped your head back toward Valentin so fast you thought you were going to get whiplash. But before you could even react to his crude words, he was brutally cut off.

A massive hand descended from the shadows like a falling meteor, wrapping entirely around the back of Valentin’s head and fiercely slamming his face straight down onto the marble counter.

Crack.

You gasped, your eyes blowing wide. Nearby guests screamed and immediately scrambled away, completely shocked by the sudden, violent ordeal. Valentin let out a pathetic, muffled groan as a dark stream of red instantly started dripping down his nostrils, pooling on the counter.

Thor held him pinned there, his massive hand basically covering most of Valentin's skull. You were so damn sure that if he applied just a fraction more pressure, he would crush the man's head like a ripe grape.

“You do not talk to my wife like that,” Thor growled, his voice a vibrating rumble that shook the very foundation of the bar.

“Thor, stop it!” you panicked, your hands desperately finding his rigid bicep, trying to pull his arm back.

Muffled against the stone, Valentin let out a wet, dizzy chuckle, the serum making him completely reckless. “Well, god-man... your wife lured me here—“

Slam.

Thor violently cracked his head against the counter a second time.

“I told you not to make a scene, didn't I?!”you yelled at the top of your lungs over the blasting music, frantically pulling at his arm to stop him from committing murder.

Thor slowly turned his head to look down at you. His blue eyes were completely blown with an unhinged, primitive rage. “I told you not to make me make one, did I not?!” he yelled back, his booming voice completely overriding the bass of the blasting lounge music.

You involuntarily flinched at the volume and raw power of his voice. You let out a sharp, furious huff, tore your hands off his arm, and turned around to bolt.

“Where do you think you're going?!” he demanded loudly.

He finally let go of Valentin, leaving theman to groan and slump heavily against the bar as you made your way out of the party. Every single eye of the high-society couples was locked onto you, whispering in terror as you stormed past.

“Stop!” Thor yelled after you, his heavy footsteps echoing right behind you, but your steps only fastened into a dead sprint.

You practically flew down the dark, stone paths of the resort, making your way back to the secluded villa. There wasn't a single soul around out here.

“I told you to stop!” he yelled again, his massive strides easily closing the distance as he caught up to you just as you reached the front door.

“And I told you to behave!” you screamed back, throwing the door open and slamming it behind you, desperately trying to force the heavy wood to lock on his face.

But you failed miserably.

“And I told you to stay away from him!” Thor yelled, forcing the door open without a single shred of effort—it was probably like flicking away a fly for him—before he aggressively slammed it shut behind him, sealing the two of you inside the tense silence of the villa.

“Why do you care?!” you yelled, throwing your arms up in the air as you spun around to face him, your face burning hot from rage.

“Why did you defy what I told you?” he pushed, stepping heavily into your personal space, his towering chest heaving.

“Because you are my mission partner, not my superior!”you shrieked, the built-up frustration of the last few hours completely boiling over. “God! You and your insufferable superiority complex!” You yelled again, aggressively turning your back to him to get away from his presence, making a beeline toward the open balcony doors.

“Do not walk away from me!” Thor roared.

In two quick strides, he crossed the room. His hand locked firmly around your wrist, his grip unyielding but careful not to break you, as he yanked you back and turned you around to face him dead-on.

You opened your mouth to say something, but all words completely left you as you noticed how your noses were inches away, your breathing fastening to a panicked, ragged rhythm as you looked up at him. His chest was heaving just like yours, the sheer mass of him completely crowding you into the balcony's door. You just gulped, your eyes helplessly finding his lips again before you forced your gaze up to meet his intense stare.

“Why are you acting like you actually care?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly, your eyes filled with deep questioning. His eyes, which were locked onto your lips, finally flicked up to look directly into your eyes. He gulped, a muscle tightening in his jaw as he flatly lied, “I don’t.” He averted his eyes immediately after.

He cared. He fucking cared so much, but he could not let you know.

You scoffed loudly at his terrible deflection. “What’s all this then? You’ve been acting so strange since we got here—” His eyes snapped right back to yours, flashing with a sudden heat. “Oh, like you haven’t!” he said, his iron grip on your wrist tightening just a bit.

“What?” you gaped, your mouth forming a perfect 'O' shape at his audacity. “The nerve of you! I have been acting completely normal!” You aggressively tried to push against his heavy chest to create some distance, but it was like trying to shove a solid brick wall; it was not working.

“Have you, though?” he challenged. His head tilted slightly to the side as he looked down at you, his towering frame completely casting you in shadow. “You’ve been trying to avoid me ever since we arrived. Mind you, we are supposed to be husband and wife here, and instead of me, you kept throwing yourself into the arms of that bastard—”

“Excuse me for acting exactly like I should while we are on a high-stakes mission—”

“Is this how you act while you are on a mission?” he fiercely cut you off. He took a heavy, deliberate step forward, crowding you so completely that you were forced to push your back straight into the balcony door, the glass cool against your skin. His expression morphed into one of deep distaste—like the mere thought of you acting exactly like this on other operations disturbed him to his very bone.

“Not at all, Thor,” you muttered, finally averting your eyes as a wave of genuine discomfort washed over your face. “But I occasionally do have to seduce men here and there. It’s not a big deal—”

His thick eyebrows furrowed deeply. Before you could turn your face away completely, his large hand came up, his fingers gently but firmly catching your chin to force you to look at him. “Not a big deal? Is someone making you seduce them? There are other ways to extract information—” he started, his deep tone initially angry but quickly softening with a rare, unexpected touch of sympathy.

You swallowed hard against the lump in your throat. “Thor, I have been trained this way. And your ways are always too loud—”

“Who the fuck trained you like this?” he growled, the symapthy instantly vanishing into a dark, protective fury. “How many times have you done this, huh?”

Your own eyebrows furrowed in a defensive shield. His entire ftame was looming over you, completely clouding your thoughts and making it hard to think straight. You reached up, removing his hand from your face. “That is absolutely none of your business—”

His entire posture changed as the anger morphed into a heavy gravity. His eyes dropped to your arms first then followed to your midriff before snapping back to your face. “Who gave you those scars?”

“What?” Your eyes widened in pure horror, the air instantly taken right out of your lungs. This cannot be happening, your voice echoed inside your mind. He could not know. You could not let him see that vulnerable, broken piece of your past. “Thor, this is ridiculous. Let me go—”

You tried pushing him away again, your chest heaving in absolute desperation to break free from his hold. But he only used his mass to pin you into the door even more, his gaze intensely determined as his hand found your jaw once again, holding you still.

He was going to find out who those fuckers were, and he was going to make them pay. He didn't fully understand why he had this overwhelming, primitive urge to protect you, but he did, and he was going to deliver on it.

“Please, Little Flame,” he murmured, his voice dropping into a desperate plea. “Are they the same people who trained you?—”

“Why do you even want to know?!” you cried out, your voice finally cracking with deep pain. Tears instantly began brewing in your eyes, blurring his handsome face. He couldn't know. If he found out, he was going to use that knowledge against you. He was going to taunt you with it during your next argument, break you with your own nightmare of a history. He was going to make sure he hurt you, just like he did every single time he managed to get a glimpse of something personal about you. He was going to break your heart completely in half and toss it away.

He was going to, because he was the only person in the universe who actually had the power to do it.

“So you can torture me more?” you whispered, your voice shaking as a single tear escaped down your cheek.

Thor’s breath got caught in his throat. A sudden, physical pain pierced his chest, wrapping around his heart so tightly that he let out a sharp huff of air. It was a pain so great, so profoundly agonizing, that it started burning through his lungs before radiating all the way out to his fingertips.

Is this truly what you thought of him?

He knew he taunted you. He knew he did everything in his being to annoy you on a daily basis. He knew he wasn't your friend, and that you both claimed to dislike each other. But he had never, in his wildest dreams, thought you could actually think him capable of causing you real, deep-rooted pain.

A fierce, protective fire burned brightly behind his blue eyes as he leaned down, his lips practically brushing your temple as he spoke.

“So that I can torture them first as they did you,” he vowed, his voice low, terrifyingly dark promise that vibrated against your skin. “And then permanently remove them from existence.”

Your angelic face twisted into a look of deep, utter confusion. What the hell was he talking about? Why on Earth would he want to do something like that for you?

Thor’s hand softened on your jaw, his thumb gently wiping away the tear on your cheek with a heartbreaking amount of tenderness. He looked down at you, his pupils blown wide with an unyielding devotion. “No... I have a better idea. I am going to tear down whatever sanctuary they think they have, drag them to the deepest pits of Hel myself, and hand-deliver a punishment that will last for eternity. No one touches you, Little Flame. Never again.”

Your heart stuttered at his words, newfound tears completely blocking your vision now at being on the receiving end of them. He sounded so profoundly sincere, so entirely full of devotion that it made your stomach flutter wildly and your heart sing with a bittersweet ecstasy.

Why was he being this protective over you? Was it just because of your mission? Has he started to actually believe the lie, to believe you were truly his wife? And why did you believe every single word he said without an ounce of your usual skepticism?

How was he making your heart soar like this? Why did he have so much power over you, over your poor, guarded heart? Why did he have to be this perfect?

Why did you love him so much?

You gasped aloud as the intrusive thought took the remaining breath away from your lungs. You loved him. You were completely, undeniably in love with him. You were in love with the man who mocked you, annoyed you, tortured you with his words. You were in love with the man you claimed to dislike for all these years.

And that realization only made you cry harder, the tears spilling over your lashes because you were entirely convinced he was never going to love you back.

“I—” you started, trying to find your voice, but a heavy, broken sob ripped through your chest instead.

Thor's face immediately fell into an expression of deep, agonizing concern. His blue eyes searched your face frantically as he wrapped his massive arms around you, pulling you securely against his broad chest.

“Please do not cry, honey,” he murmured, his deep baritone cracking in pain.

He called you honey. He called you honey in private, in the quiet safety of your shared room, while holding you as if you were made of glass. It was so sweet, so tender, so full of an unprompted meaning. What on earth had happened to the two of you? Just hours ago, you were bitterly bickering about your morning coffee, but now you were collapsed in his arms, crying simply because he wanted to protect you.

Nobody did that for you. Nobody had ever said they would protect you, because they always expected you to handle it yourself. They knew what you were capable of; they knew you were lethal.

Nobody ever thought you would need someone else to do your bidding for you.

His large hand moved to the back of your head, his thick fingers gently stroking through your hair as he spoke, his voice dropping into a raspy whisper. “Darling, are you crying because of me?” He swallowed hard, his voice cracking again. “Do you truly think I mean to harm you? Do you think so little of me?”

You sobbed, your fingers clutching desperately onto the fabric of his shirt, burying your face into his chest.

“I’m begging you, do not cry,” he gulped, his own chest heaving as he held you tighter. “It... it hurts me.”

“I had been nothing but a laboratory experiment to them,” you finally choked out, the confession tearing out of your throat.

Thor froze instantly, his entire muscular body stiffening beneath your touch.

Slowly, you tilted your head up, your chin resting against his chest. Your lashes were damp with heavy tears that still kept falling silently down your cheeks. Thor’s hand gently cupped your face, his thumb catching the moisture, his eyes entirely locked onto yours as he listened with a quiet focus.

“They didn’t see a young woman,” you whispered, your throat tightening painfully as your grip on his shirt tightened. “They only saw a lab rat. A nameless object to be broken, tested, and rebuilt. I remember the cold steel of the table. I remember begging and begging... crying until my eyes bled, but they just kept on going.”

Thor’s blue eyes darkened into a midnight so black it looked like a brewing storm. A terrifying rage formed deep within him—a rage so massive and destructive that he felt he could destroy all of humanity just to see the lingering pain disappear from your eyes.

“Who are they?” He demanded, and your eyes closed in despair.

Should you tell him? Should you let him be a part of the darkest corners of your past?

Should you trust him?

“Darling, please tell me,” he begged, his voice trembling with a restrained fury as he looked down at you. “Who did this to you?”

Your throat tightened, your pulse fluttering at his gentle words and protective tone. You sighed opening your eyes, “They were a faction I later discovered to be the vile, lingering remnants of Hydra.”

Thor saw pure red. His throat tightened to the point of suffocation at the horrific image of you at the mercy of those monsters—being tortured, crying, entirely helpless.

“I need names,” he growled softly, the air in the room turning heavy with static.

“I don’t have names—”

“I will find names.”

“I don't know if you can, Thor, it was years—”

“I will,” he cut you off, his tone leaving absolutely no room for argument. He brought his other hand to your cheek, tilting your face up just a fraction. “Keep going, honey.” His voice was incredibly gentle for you, even as the undercurrent of his rage thrummed through his veins. He could barely bear to listen to the atrocities you had survived, but he had to. You were finally opening up to him, and he would listen to you until the end of time.

You gulped, trying to steady your breathing. “At the time, they were desperate, trying to replicate the lost Super Soldier serum using volatile cosmic energy signatures they barely understood.” You let out another shaky sob, and Thor immediately rubbed your back in slow, soothing circles, offering you every ounce of comfort his massive frame could provide. “More needles inserted into my skin... more radiation pumped into my veins, all for the sake of a twisted immortality.”

You held him tighter, closing your eyes against the memories. “And once they realized what they had created, they turned me into a ghost. An assassin. They forced me—forced me to do horrific, bloody things, Thor. I hurt so many people.” You opened your eyes, looking up at him with an unbearable vulnerability. “I did horrible, horrible things.”

The tears came faster now, the weight of your past crushing you as you sobbed uncontrollably against him. “I never wanted to do any of those things... they made me, I swear they made me, and they hurt me to make me do it—”

“Shh, sweetheart,” Thor interrupted softly, his voice thick with emotion as he clutched you even tighter against his heart, burying his face into your hair, his nose nudging your scalp as he did so. “None of this is your fault. Look at me.” He pulled back just enough to cup your face with both of his massive hands, gently forcing you to look up into his striking blue eyes. “None of it is your fault.”

“I am the one who did all of it—” Your voice cut off as another wave of tears streamed down your cheeks. It was like a dam had permanently broken in your chest, and there was absolutely no stopping it now. You were crying for the stolen years, crying for the innocent lives your hands had been forced to take, crying because you felt completely stripped bare and vulnerable—but most of all, you were crying because you loved him.

“I told you it is not your fault, sweetheart,” he said, his tone turning fiercely stern, leaving no room for you to argue with him. “You were kidnapped. Tortured.” He gulped like it was a great pain to say these words, “Your whole life was altered by monsters. You were made to do all of it.” His own voice grew heavy with sadness as he looked at your tears. “You did nothing wrong. You were just trying to survive, honey.”

“I’m so glad Steve and Tony saved me,” you whispered, your throat burning. “I... I don’t know what I’d do if it wasn't for them.”

At the mention of their names, Thor felt his chest tighten with a sharp, unexpected pang. Who else on the team knew the full extent of this? Steve and Tony, definitely. Natasha? You two were close; you would have told her. Bucky? Bruce? Clint? Was he truly the only person who had been left completely in the dark?

And to think he had called you gloomy.

A heavy cloak of regret settled over his shoulders. It was all true—everything he had confessed to Alejandro and Valentin at the table. He had thought you were the most breathtakingly beautiful woman he had ever seen the moment you walked into the compound years ago. But he had fucked it all up by opening his mouth and saying you looked gloomy. Would the two of you be any different right now if he hadn't used that stupid word?

“I am sorry,” he mumbled, the unexpected words catching your attention through the haze of your crying. He looked down at you, his eyes pained. “So fucking sorry I called you gloomy. Truly sorry. Can you—” He gulped hard, his chest heaving. “Can you forgive me?”

“I...” You trailed off, staring up at him in utter disbelief. Where the hell was this coming from? The walls around your heart instantly tried to slam back up. “Do you pity me now? Is that it?” you asked, your tone shifting into something sharp and defensive.

Thor’s eyes widened in immediate panic. “No—not pity. Towards you at least, never. I pity myself.”

“What does that even mean—”

“I meant every single word I said back there at the table,” he said softly, his thumbs tenderly grazing your cheeks to wipe away the fresh tears.

Your heart gave a violent flutter against your ribs, but it felt entirely too good to be true. You couldn't let yourself fall for a beautiful lie. “Do not mock me, Thor—”

“I would never.”

Your eyebrows went straight up, your expression clearly stating the obvious. He loved mocking you. He made it his absolute daily mission to get under your skin and irritate you to death.

Thor scrunched his face up at your look, a soft, self-deprecating sigh escaping his lips. “On this matter, I mean. I would never, ever mock you on a matter such as this, Little Flame.”

You scoffed, quickly averting your eyes from the intensity of his gaze. “Now you're just being cruel, big guy—“you tried to pry yourself off him, but one of his hands holding your face descended to your waist and circled it tightly.

“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met in my thousands of years alive.”

Your eyes widened with shock as they snapped back to meet his. Your heart dropped straight to your stomach with a violent jolt of excitement—of pure happiness.

“I am?” you whispered, the words coming out small and fragile, like a secret you were almost too afraid to speak aloud. It felt entirely unbelievable.

“You are,” he said, nodding firmly as he looked down at you.

There was something profoundly pure swirling in his deep blue eyes. It was a look you dared not name, because if you did, the only thing you could possibly call it would be adoration. He looked at you as if he completely and utterly adored you.

As you stared up at him, it hit you: that look was familiar.

He had always looked at you this way. Back at the compound, during your worst arguments, across the briefing table—his pupils would blow wide, a hidden mirth would dance behind his eyes, mixed with this exact same heavy, unyielding intensity. All these years, you had defensively rewritten that look as dislike, as a god looking down on an annoying mortal. Has he always looked at you with adoration in his eyes? Or were you just desperately lying to yourself now because your own walls were crumbling?

Either way, your breath was completely knocked out of you. Panic, cold and sharp, flooded your veins. You had to get away from him. You had to protect your heart, your soul, whatever was left of your sanity. You had already bared your darkest, most painful secret to him—the one thing you had specifically kept hidden from him out of fear—and you were terrified of what else you might reveal the longer you spent wrapped up in his arms.

“I—“You panicked even more as his gaze softened with that heartbreakingly tender look. You planted your palms against his chest and pushed. “I think it would be better if you let go of me now.” Thor’s expression changed, the vulnerability vanished, his eyes darkening to a stormy, dangerous hue. He had just laid his soul bare, admitting he found you more beautiful than anything in the cosmos, and now you were demanding he let you go?

“No,” he rumbled, his grip on your waist tightening rather than loosening. “Why would I do that?”

“Because I want you to—I need you to—“

“Why would you need me to do that?” he demanded, his voice dropping dangerously. “Are you that disgusted by me?”

Before you could even process the question, his expression shifted again. The anger twisted into something entirely unhinged as the green-eyed monster clawed ruthlessly at his insides, blinding him with an irrational fury.

“So you will gladly get close to that bastard at the bar, let his filthy hands touch your skin, but you cannot bear to have me hold you?”

Your mouth parted as you looked at him with pure, unyielding disbelief. “What on earth are you on about? Why do you keep talking about him like I'm actually into him—“

“Are you?” he fiercely cut you off.

He leaned down further, his eyes agressively scanning every inch of your face, his hot breath fanning across your lips. It made your breath hitch painfully in your throat. His completely irrational, wild behavior was forcing you to consider a reality you shouldn't. Something you would have never dared to think of just moments ago. Was he jealous?

Was he actually fucking jealous?

A dangerous spark of defiance flared up inside your chest. “What if I am?” you pushed, tilting your chin up to challenge him. “You cannot be,” he said, a flash of pure, territorial anger burning hot behind his eyes. “I will not let you. You are—you—“ He stammered, his usual booming eloquence completely deserting him as his gaze furiously swept over your face, desperately trying to decipher if you actually harbored any feelings for that fucker.

You smiled daringly up at him. You knew you probably looked absolutely wicked right now, with your smudged mascara, your flushed cheeks, and that fierce, determined look in your eyes.

“Are you jealous, big guy?” you whispered.

Your hands, which had been resting on his chest, began trailing upwards to his neck seductively. You didn't even have control over your own body anymore; it was like some primal instinct had taken over and you had to do this. You had to break him. You had to get him to confess. You felt entirely insane—just seconds ago, you were panicking and trying to push him away, and now you were mindlessly feeling him up, loving the power you had over him. Fuck.

Thor felt his heartbeat fasten against his ribs. His arm around your waist constricted, pulling you so close that there wasn't a single shred of air left between your bodies, his jaw locking hard in place. He knew exactly what you were doing. You were playing with fire on purpose. He made a ‘pfft’ sound, “I am not—“ he tried, desperately attempting to lie straight to your face.

“I think you are, honey,” you purred, leaning in until your breath fanned directly over his lips, your thumb lazily circling the heated skin at the nape of his neck. Even his neck was hot, for god's sake. It was thick and masculine. He was so masculine. His eyes immediately drifted down to your lips again, his resolve crumbling. “I am not. I simply... I wish to protect you because you are my teammate—“

“Oh, so I should just go back down to the bar and find him, then?” you pushed ruthlessly. You tilted your head, feigning complete innocence with your wide, tear-bright eyes.

He huffed, utterly furious at the mere suggestion. “Absolutely not. You are not leaving this damn room without me by your side.”

Your wicked smile widened. “Why not?” you purred, your face moving a fraction closer until your lips almost brushed his jaw. “I could touch him like this...” Your hands drifted down from his neck, sliding over the heavy planes of his chest down to his massive biceps, making his muscles instantly twitch under your fingertips. “I could kiss him like I did you, just minutes ago—“

Thor couldn't take it a single second longer.

His lips slanted over yours, ruthlessly cutting your sentence and your breath off. He pulled you even closer toward him, holding you like you were his absolute lifeline, pressing you so tight against his broad, muscular frame that it felt like your bodies were becoming one. You kissed him back passionately, completely losing yourself in the intoxicating heat of it. Your hands flew up to find his rough cheeks, and you pushed yourself up on your tiptoes, pressing your lips hungrily onto his.

He bit your lower lip with a sudden, needy sharpness, then stopped. He reluctantly moved his head away just a few inches, his breathing heavy and ragged as he whispered against your mouth, “You are not to kiss anyone but me.” His thumb came up, grazing over your throbbing lower lip. “Stop it, alright?” he whispered, then pecked your lips.

“Why—“

He pecked your lips again, roughly cutting you off, and then growled the confession right into your mouth: “Because I am fucking jealous, okay honey?”

He kissed you again, and you actually smirked straight into the kiss. The absolute victory of making a literal god admit defeat made your heart soar into the stratosphere. You pulled back though your lips were still grazing his, whispering wickedly against his mouth, “What was that?”

He pecked your lips again, desperate, heavy, and completely surrendered to you. “I have been burning with jealousy since I saw him lay his filthy eyes on you. I do not know what is wrong with me, but I—” He gulped hard, his large thumb slowly gliding over your flushed cheek. “I am consumed by it.”

A breathless, giddy giggle escaped your lips then. “Okay, big guy.”

He was jealous. The King of Asgard was completely, undeniably jealous, and he had just admitted it to you in the dark of your room. Oh god, you were losing your mind—and you never wanted to find it again.

But one question prodded at your mind before he made it all disappear with a fierce kiss, why was he jealous in the first place?

But you were not in your right mind. Because Thor wasn’t kissing you like a normal kiss. He was inhaling you, and it was already lighting you on fire.

The height difference was clearly bothering him as much as it was bothering you. Feeling the strain, Thor lowered himself just a bit before sliding his hands under your thighs, effortlessly lifting you completely off the floor, making your dress ride up. Your arms immediately circled around his thick neck—the very same neck you had been dying to strangle just hours ago—and you let out a soft moan directly into his mouth as his hands slipped up from your thighs to find your ass, squeezing your cheeks tightly as he pinned you securely against his massive frame. You moaned into his mouth, not being able to help it.

A hand left your ass and wrapped around your neck, while the other moved back to your waist to securely hold you, angling your face to kiss you as deeply as he wanted. His tongue pressed over yours as he walked himself backward into the bedroom. The kiss was heated, so full of passion you felt your insides burn with it. His kisses descended to your jaw, then to your neck as he hummed in deep appreciation. What were you doing kissing Thor, of all people? What were you doing letting Thor take you to bed, of all people?

But the thought couldn't even fully form as he bit down on your neck, making you whine in pain.

“Thor—” you begged, without knowing what it was you were begging for.

— “Yes?” he rumbled against your skin as he licked the sensitive spot on your neck, then he laid you over the mattress, settling his heavy body over you. He massaged your hips as he settled himself deeply between your legs. You spread them wide to accommodate him, and felt it poking hard against your thigh.

His cock, thick and hard, was somehow bigger than you had imagined—and you hadn’t been thinking small.

“Guess we don't have to fight over who gets the bed anymore,” you quipped, your voice breathless, trying to find a defense in your usual wit.

It made him chuckle, a low vibration against your chest. “I guess not,” he whispered, then took your lips again. This kiss was softer than before, slowly dismantling you as his lips glided over yours. Then he pressed his hips heavily against your core, making you whine out loud.

“Do you feel that?” He pulled your upper lip between his teeth, smiling slightly into the heat of your face. “It’s what you do to me. Ever since we landed here, I’ve be walking around so hard I was worried you’d see it. But no.” He kissed one corner of your mouth, then the other. “You’re oblivious, aren’t you, honey?”

He found you that attractive?

You hummed, tipping your head back in complete surrender. Thor groaned, dragging his lips over a throbbing pulse point, letting his tongue flick against the sensitive skin of your throat. “You like that too,” he grunted, his breath hot in your ear. “You like being the one person that gets me going, that makes me lose it. No one else, my Little Flame.”

He held your hips again and pushed your ass forward, locking you in place so your clit was pushed tightly against the thick hardness of him through the fabric. A long moan escaped your lips, and you dropped your face into his shoulder, completely undone.

Thor grunted, rutting forward, and it was so fucking hot you couldn't think past it. The deep drawl of his voice in your ear, the impossible strength of him around you—it was intoxicating. The clothing added a desperate, heavy extra friction, his fingers digging into your hips.

“Just you,” he thrusted forward against your core, squeezing your ass tightly with his other hand. “Only you, sweetheart. So beautiful and sassy, driving me insane—“

You whimpered as Thor made a low, ragged sound, taking a deep, shaky breath against your hair. His hand then slipped into your panties, his deft fingers dragging down to tease right against the already damp drip of your pussy. His fingers started circling your clit, a thick dampness forming immediately down there under his torturously perfect touch. “Please—” you cried out, your hips bucking up instinctively against his hand, begging for him to end this perfect torture.

“Please what, honey?i Thor rasped, his touch growing heavier, more demanding as he felt your walls slick and trembling for him. “Tell me exactly what you want me to do to you”

“I want you,” you gasped out as he inserted his middle finger inside you—and fuck, even his finger was incredibly large.

“Not enough, sweetheart,” he grumbled, pressing his thumb firmly down onto your clit, making you squirm and twitch helplessly in place beneath his weight.

“What do I have to say—“

“I said tell me exactly what you want, did I not?” he rumbled, suddenly moving his finger deep inside you, rhythmically fucking you with it. You whined loudly at the overwhelming friction, your hands locking onto his massive biceps and squeezing hard enough to leave marks. “I want you to—“ you gasped, your vision blurring. “I want you to fuck me... no, I need you to fuck me. Please.”

You were completely reduced to begging him. In response, his fingers slicked deeper as he added his ring finger into your heat, stretching you beautifully, but then he stopped abruptly.

There was simply too much extra fabric from your midi dress crumpled up in his way.

Your eyebrows furrowed, the sudden loss of momentum leaving you aching and confused. “What is it?”

He didn't respond with words. Instead, his large hands slid down to your lower back, his knuckles brushing your bare skin as his fingers found the zipper of your dress.

Your blood ran completely cold in an instant. Your whole body stiffened up beneath him, every single muscle locking tight.

Your scars.

Other people, other agents, had seen them on the battlefield or during training, and you had never felt bad about it. But this was Thor. You knew he had caught a fleeting glimpse of them at the pool earlier, but he hadn't truly seen all of them. He hadn't seen the worst of them. And this was not a public pool, was it? This was intimate. This was completely private. Which meant he would have all the time in the world to analyze them with his eyes, more time to realize how broken your body really was, more time to get disgusted by them—

The heavy weight of his hand cupped your jaw, covering it completely and instantly grounding you, cutting your spiraling thoughts short. “What is it?” he asked softly, his blue eyes searching yours in the dim light. “What's wrong, Little Flame?”

You gulped hard, helplessly averting your eyes from his intense stare. “I—I don't know about this...”

“Do you want to stop?” he asked immediately, completely freezing, his hand instantly lifting away from the zipper of your dress without hesitation.

“No!” you scrambled out desperately. Your eyes snapped back to find his, and you saw deep confusion in them.

How could he not be confused? You probably looked completely insane to him right now. First you were kissing him like there was no tomorrow, then you were begging him to take you, then you were voicing a doubt, but you were still fiercely refusing to stop. You were goddamn confusing.

You closed your eyes, a wave of shame washing over you. “It's just that I...” You swallowed hard. “I don't think I should remove my dress.”

His eyebrows furrowed deeply. “But I want to feel you. I do not understand,” he said, getting more perplexed by the second.

You huffed, unable to meet his eyes. “My scars... they are not pleasant to look at, Thor.”

“You do not know what is pleasant to my eyes or not,” he countered instantly, his deep voice carrying an unyielding certainty that took you completely aback.

“But—“

“I find you attractive. I find your scars attractive. I find every single part of you breathtakingly attractive,” he said, his tone dropping into a fierce vow as his hand found the track of your zipper once again. He didn't pull it, he just waited, asking for your trust. “Please let me see you, darling,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over yours, his warm breath intoxicating. “So that I can witness your beauty. So that I can show you exactly how much I love your scars, how much I love every part of you.”

Your eyes were wide, your heart beating so fast and hard against your ribs it felt painful. Should you actually let him?

This was Thor, for god's sake. He was never the nicest person to you—

But was he not?

A sudden rush of memories flooded your brain, completely reframing the last few years. He always looked out for you on dangerous missions, shielding your blind spots. Even though he irritated you daily, he always helped you carry heavy equipment crates—though not before he smugly made you cave in and admit you couldn't do it yourself, just like he did with your suitcases. He had caught you by the waist every single time you tripped. His eyes had always, always been tracked onto you in every room. And tonight, he had called you the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his thousands of years of life, before literally threatening to crush a man's skull for disrespecting you.

So no. He had never been rude to you. He had always been good to you. He annoyed you, sure, but he was so goddamn protective and sweet to you in his own annoying and loud way, and you had somehow just noticed it. How the hell did you just notice it?

Your chest was heaving heavily as you made your final decision, the remaining walls around your heart completely collapsing.

“Okay,” you whispered, nodding your head against the pillow.

Thor smiled then—a soft, blindingly beautiful smile that made him look younger, happier. His lips easily found yours again in a deep, reassuring kiss as his hand slowly, smoothly slid the zipper all the way down, gently removing the white dress from your body and leaving nothing between you but the heat of his skin.

You were now left in your white bra and panties, his gaze burning your skin as he looked all over you. His heart soared at the sight of you, but he felt a sharp pang of pain in his chest at the scars littering your skin. They were a lot more than he thought, but gods, they only made you more attractive to him. A strong woman, with the face of an angel and the body of a goddess—you were always meant to be his undoing.

His fingers grazed a thin line along your ribs as his mind echoed fiercely, She is beautiful, and I am going to make them pay for hurting her, all of them.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you squirmed, a faint trace of your old discomfort resurfacing.

Instead of drawing back, he leaned over your body, his face level with your stomach as his large hands gently grabbed your sides, anchoring you. And then, he lowered his head and kissed one of the most visible, ragged scars you had near your hip.

“You are beautiful. Truly a goddess... one fit for me,” he muttered against your skin, before kissing the mark again.

Your breath hitched, your head spinning into a daze. That specific scar was from the most lethal trauma you had ever endured. You had almost died that day; in fact, you had hoped to die that day just to escape. But your captives had found a way to keep you alive, using brutal, advanced procedures to permanently bind your altered biology together. Tears welled up in your eyes, your vision blurring for the second time that night. To see him kiss it like that—so tenderly, with so much reverence—made something warm and heavy fill your chest. It was like a fractured part of you was finally feeling whole again.

I love him, your mind screamed at you for the second time that day. Your right hand instinctively found his rough cheek, your fingers tangling in his beard as he kept kissing your scars. One left from needles being inserted into the exact same place dozens of times; one left from a failed escape attempt on a mission they sent you on, a punishment for not obeying... He was kissing every single one of them.

And while his lips hovered over the worst one near your hip again, you finally whispered, “I almost died when I got that one.”

His head immediately whipped up, his heart tightening painfully in his chest at your words. “What?” he asked, his throat closing in, his blue eyes blazing with an intense, dark focus.

“They used a plasma blade to slice me open during a combat stress-test,” you whispered, the memory making your voice shake. “They wanted to see how fast the cosmic energy in my blood would knit the flesh back together while I was conscious. I begged them to just let me bleed out.”

Thor’s hold on your sides violently tightened, his knuckles turning white and his jaw locking so hard a muscle strove in his cheek. “I am going to make them pay, Little Flame." he said his voice determined, "I am going to avenge you. They are going to feel the wrath of the God of Thunder, be sure of that. No one, and I mean no one, gets away with hurting you.”

He turned his head toward the hand holding his cheek, shifting slightly to press a deep, lingering kiss against the inside of your wrist, right over your pulsing vein, like he wanted to be sure you were alive. Like he needed reassurance of your well being after your confession. He could not bear the thought of you in pain, but death? You on the brink of death? His poor heart could not take it. “I do not know what you did to me, sweetheart, but you—” he gulped, his eyes locked on yours, “you have a hold on me that no one else ever did. That no one else ever could.”

He leaned up, his chest heaving against yours. “I cannot help it. I cannot help but be jealous, I cannot help but be protective, possessive... I just can't help it. You have completely bewitched me.”

Your breathing fastened as your heart fluttered wildly in your chest at his words. What did he mean? How was he talking like this? He couldn't love you, you knew that—you were just deeply flawed partners on a mission—but a part of your soul soared at the fact that he harbored these intense, desperate urges for you. Even if it wasn't love, he felt for you with a terrifying depth.

When his large hands moved down to remove your white bra, you reached up and caught his wrists, tsking him with a breathless smirk. “Don't you think you're being a bit unfair, big guy? It's your turn.”

Your hands found his collar, pulling his heavy frame down to your lips. You kissed him deeply, pouring all your hidden, aching feelings into it, while your shaky fingers began working on the unbuttoning of his shirt. Your hands were trembling with excitement and the weight of your feelings for him. When you finally removed your lips from his, you let out a frustrated huff, looking down at the fabric because your frantic fingers couldn't unbutton them fast enough.

Thor just chuckled, a rumbling sound against your chest. He took matters into his own hands, gripping the shirt and casually pulling it over his head with one smooth motion, tossing it blindly across the room.

“Oh fuck... you honestly are a god,” you whispered, taking him in fully. His biceps were literally the size of your head, his pecs perfectly sculpted, his abs defined and casting shadows in the dim light—he was going to be the absolute death of you.

He chuckled again, clearly enjoying your completely awestruck expression, and immediately took it to his advantage. His large hand slid behind your back, and with a single, practiced flick of his fingers, he unclasped your bra in a second.

You gasped in bewilderment, snapping your eyes up to meet his. “You sly fox,” you said, a wicked smirk returning to your lips.

He just held your bra up for a brief second like a captured banner of war, a triumphant smile lighting up his handsome face, before he tossed it away. Turning all of his massive, heavy attention back to you, his mouth immediately latched onto your right breast, his tongue swirling hot against your skin while his large hand slid down past your stomach to find your crotch.

“Ohmygod,” you gasped out in one breath.

His fingers hooked into the edge of your panties, sliding them down your hips before giving a firm, playful slap against your inner thigh. “Get your legs up for me, honey, so I can get these off,” he grunted against your skin. You quickly complied, lifting your hips and helping him slide the remaining lace down your legs until you were completely bared for him.

He let go of your nipple for a second, his large hands sliding down to grip your thighs with an iron hold, settling himself deeply between them again. He spread them wide open, his gaze dropping down to your glistening center. His tongue darted out in anticipation, his eyes dark with an intense, heavy hunger.

“You look so sweet, honey. Bet you taste as sweet as you look, don't you?” he murmured to himself, his deep baritone sending a thrill straight down your spine as he kept his gaze locked between your legs.

You whined in agonizing anticipation, your hips twitching on the mattress. “Do something—oh!”

You were cut off as his thumb pressed hard against your clit, slowly dragging all the way down your slick slit, catching your juices on his skin. He lifted his hand, looking down at his wet thumb before putting it directly between his lips, sucking the moisture off as he closed his eyes.

“Oh, yes you do taste sweet. Better than I ever imagined,” he rumbled, his voice rough. He leaned down and gave your pussy a light, playful slap, the stinging heat making you whine out loud.

“Thooor—”

He hovered back over your body, his mouth immediately returning to suckle hungrily on your right nipple. At the same time, his hand slid back between your thighs, inserting his middle finger deep inside you, quickly followed by his ring finger. His thumb began circling your clit in rhythmic patterns. Your mouth fell agape, your head tossing from side to side as you moaned and moaned, your body beautifully stretched by his incredibly large fingers.

Your hands locked onto his broad shoulders, squeezing tight, the slick friction of his touch rapidly driving you toward the edge, pulling you closer to that blissful, impending high.

“'M close,” you murmured, your eyes completely dazed. You pulled his head closer, biting down on the thick skin of his neck and suckling fiercely, making the god let out a deep, gravelly groan of pleasure.

“You’re driving me insane,” he growled against your skin, his fingers moving faster, driving deep inside your tight heat. “Come on, pretty girl, make a mess on my fingers.”

The pressure kept building and building in your lower stomach until it was entirely unbearable. “I—” you gasped, your toes curling into the sheets. “I’m gonna—”

“Come on, let it go, baby,” he commanded darkly.

And then you snapped. You came hard, whining and moaning loudly as wave after wave of intense pleasure rippled through your core, your walls clamping down violently around his fingers. Thor grunted, keeping his fingers moving through your contractions, forcing every last drop of pleasure out of you until you were breathlessly begging him to stop.

Before you could even catch your breath, Thor shifted. He reached down to his waist, lowering his trousers and boxers in a single, aggressive movement. Because he was already on his knees, the fabric simply bunched up around his knees, freeing his lower half.

Your eyes widened in absolute awe at the sight. He was big. Just as you had thought, but seeing him fully bare made him look even bigger. “Oh god,” you whispered.

Thor gave his length a slow, heavy pump of his hand, precum glistening at the tip as he smeared the moisture down his thick shaft. He looked down at you, his chest heaving.

“Do we need protection? Because I don't have any—” he asked, his voice thick with restraint. “No, we don't,” you said eagerly, you were on the pill.

Pushing yourself up onto your elbows, you looked his naked torso and heavy length over with a predatory hunger. “You’re so fucking handsome it’s annoying, do you know that?” you said, biting your lower lip.

He chuckled, a smug, low sound as he settled his weight back in between your open legs. “Why, thank you, Little Flame—”

Your hand shot out, planting firmly against his massive shoulder. “Can I ride you?” Thor stopped dead in his tracks, his chest heaving, his pupils blown wide. “What?”

“Can I ride you?” you asked again, your voice completely determined.

Taking full advantage of his momentary shock, you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist, using your core to pull him down as you deftly flipped your positions. Within a second, you were sitting squarely on top of his hard stomach. His defined abs twitched beneath you, the movement grazing directly against your freshly sensitive clit, making you take a sharp breath.

“You wanna do all the work, honey?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowing as a lazy, amused smirk tugged at his lips.

“Mhm,” you hummed, your eyes dazed and hooded as you looked down at his towering chest. He chuckled, his large hands rising to rest loosely on your hips. “Are you sure? You are well aware I possess the stamina of a god.”

You rolled your eyes at his typical Asgardian arrogance. “I am aware. Can you just stop talking and—”

“Are you getting on, or not?” he interrupted, his smirk widening as he tilted his hips up just a fraction, the warm tip of his cock brushing against your entrance.

For a split second, the temptation to be difficult returned. “I am definitely reconsidering it now,” you pouted, crossing your arms over your bare chest and throwing him a defiant look.

But Thor just snorted, rolling his eyes at your stubbornness. Before you could even blink, his hands gripped your hips with terrifying strength and he lifted you up. You didn't even get a second to think before he downwardly forced your hips straight onto his thick dick, burying himself inside you all the way to the hilt.

The air was knocked completely from your lungs. Thor was so deep in you it was pushing all the thoughts out of your brain. You gaped down at him, making weak, breathless noises as your pussy pulsed and stretched beautifully around his thickness. His fingers dug deeply into your hips, the only sign that he was struggling to hold himself back from taking over completely.

“Much as I enjoy you trying to take control,” he muttered, his large hands sliding down to massage your ass with a heavy, grounding pressure, “I'd rather keep you full of me so you stop thinking.”

He reached up slowly, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You bit your bottom lip, whining at the unbearable fullness, and he chuckled, settling his upper body fully into the pillows. Your hands found his chest, your fingers grabbing firmly onto his broad pectorals for balance. “Ride it, baby,” he ordered, his voice a low, gravelly command.

And god help you, you tried. You caught your breath after a long moment that felt like an eternity and started to roll your hips. Thor groaned, his heavy eyelids fluttering as your tight heat dragged over his length, but he deliberately didn't help you yet. His hands remained firm on your body, forcing you to use every ounce of your strength to grind down onto his dick.

Your movements accidentally pushed him right against that sensitive, gooey spot inside of you, and you faltered with a long, broken moan. You shifted, forcing his thick head right against it again, and he let out a sharp breath, though he still didn't take the reins. “Uhh—” you whined, your head spinning.

“Feels good, does it not?” he cooed, his cock throbbing heavily inside you. “Nice and big, filling up your pussy so good.”

You moaned, your hips bucking instinctively. Thor grunted, thrusting up just slightly to meet you, and you tipped your head back as a shiver ran down your spine. The friction was incredible. For a second, back arched and thighs aching, you actually managed to find a rhythm. It started slow, rolling and pushing Thor’s cock right where you wanted it.

You looked down at him, sweaty and utterly adoring beneath you. His hands wandered over your skin, his breathing ragged and his lips parted as he watched you take him.

“That's a good girl,” he muttered, his blue eyes blown wide. “There you go, My Star.” He continued, “My beautiful fucking Star, so good for me are you not?”

You keened at the praise, your pace moving faster. Your knees were growing weak from the exertion, but the desperate need inside you was so much stronger. You bounced on Thor’s dick, grabbing at his chest and gasping for air as his sheer size split you open over and over again.

Looking down at his bare chest, his defined pecs looked absolutely delicious in the dim light. You had to take a bite, didn't you? Lowering your upper body flat against his chest, you leaned down and bit down on his left breast, hard. Thor groaned loudly, his abs flexing hard beneath you. “What are you—” he gasped.

You didn't answer, simply licking over the damp mark you had just left before kissing over it mindlessly. Pushing yourself back up, your hands found their place on his heaving chest again, meeting his eyes which were burning with an unhinged desire.

But it wasn't enough. You didn't possess the extra stamina or strength of a god, and he was just too big. You were so overwhelmed by pleasure that your body was starting to forget how to move properly. Every wet, obscene sound echoing in the room made you glance down at where he was disappearing inside of you—the way your slick was heavily coating his cock when you pulled up, and the heavy weight of his balls slapping against your ass every time you dropped back down.

You only got hornier, wanting nothing more than to just let go and allow your eyes to cross and toes to curl, but you couldn't find the pace to get over the edge. You couldn't cum. The frustration built up until pathetic, fat tears started streaming down your cheeks.

”Aw, baby, why are you crying?” Thor murmured, his voice laced with a gentle mockery. Fully aware of the fact that you couldn't reach the finish line by yourself, he reached up, brushing your tears away with his thumb while a tiny, knowing smirk played on his lips.

You let out a frustrated sob, shaking violently above him as your legs finally grew too weak to sustain the weight. You collapsed forward, just squirming uselessly against his lap now, blinking through wet lashes at his teasing, lazy smile. “You can't get there all alone, can you?” he purred, gripping your waist tightly and slamming his hips up into you.

You made a choked, high-pitched sound as the sudden force rattled your entire frame. “That's right, pretty girl. Just a total mess on my cock."

“Ple—please—“ you blubbered, completely spent, your upper body collapsing weakly over Thor’s broad chest. “God, Thor—please—“

“Aw. Begging so pretty.” He leaned up and pressed a tender, lingering kiss to your wet forehead. “How could I ever say no to you, huh?”

Without another word, Thor gripped your hips and effortlessly lifted you off his cock, twisting you onto your back as he sat up. You were shoved down into the mattress, your head pressed deeply into the cushions. His massive hands locked onto your hips, dragging you down the bed toward him, completely manhandling you. His right hand moved to the inside of your left thigh, pushing it wide open to expose your dripping core to the cool air of the room.

“Such a mess,” Thor rumbled, his eyes dark as he ran the thick head of his cock between the lips of your pussy, letting it press heavily against your swollen clit before lining it right back up at your entrance.

He slid in slowly, filling you back up until your eyes rolled back in your head. Bringing his upper body over yours, his left hand found your right leg, pushing it all the way up to your chest. He was impossibly deeper at this angle, stretching you to your absolute limits.

You tried to press your hand over your mouth to muffle your pathetic, undone sounds, but Thor tutted softly. With his left hand, he firmly wrapped his fingers around your wrist and pulled your hand away, pinning it to the mattress. He bottomed out completely, a deep groan ripping from his chest as he bit your earlobe.

His hand found its way to your thigh and kept your legs pinned high next to your breasts as he began to move, his brutal, unyielding pace making you instantly see stars. Every heavy thrust sent a shockwave through your body, your hips bouncing uncontrollably against the mattress.

Thor moved his head back just a little, looking down at where your bodies joined, and grunted in deep, possessive approval. He caught your jaw in his hand, his fingers anchoring you as he fucked you hard. “Want to see how good we fit, pretty girl?”

You couldn't even catch a goddamn breath, but you nodded frantically. He let go of your jaw, sliding his hand to the back of your head and gently forcing you to look down at your own lap.

It was sinful. So fucking sinful. A white, creamy ring was forming around his shaft as he ruthlessly fucked into you, and he was so goddamn right—you fit together like perfect puzzle pieces. With every single downward stroke, his heavy pelvis hit directly against your engorged, sensitive clit.

You moaned loudly, your eyebrows knitting together in pure pleasure as the visual pushed you right over the edge unexpectedly. You screamed his name as he let go of your head, his thumb brushing over your trembling lips. He didn't stop, keeping up the relentless, pounding pace, grunting your name over and over against your neck.

“Came after just a few seconds of me fucking you?” he mocked breathlessly, but he was in no better shape than you were. He looked completely disheveled, his hair wild, his jaw locked in a tight line of restraint.

He pushed his damp thumb directly into your mouth, and you blindly suckled on it, wrapping your tongue around his skin.

“Fuck,” he grunted, his blue eyes blowing wide as he finally lost his grip on his godly stamina. His hips gave one last, deep, trembling shove, pinning you flat to the bed as he came, throwing thick, hot ropes of cum deep inside you, filling you to the absolute brim. —

“Are you okay?” he whispered, his lips brushing tenderly against your knuckles.

You were having a near-impossible time keeping your eyes open, the aftershocks of the last hour leaving your limbs feeling like heavy lead, but you managed to nod lazily and offer him a soft, sleepy smile.

Thor took your hand, bringing it up to rest against his bare chest. You frowned, your brow furrowing in confusion. “What’re you doin’?” you mumbled, your exhaustion making your words barely intelligible, slurring together into a sleepy hum.

“Have to take care of you, baby,” he said, his voice so gentle it made your heart ache. He didn't wait for an answer, simply scooping you up into his arms, bridal style. Your arms instinctively circled around his thick neck, and you rested your heavy head against his shoulder as he carried you into the bathroom.

After he helped you clean up with a patience that was entirely uncharacteristic of the man you’d known for years, he carried you back to the bed. He kissed your forehead with lingering reverence as he laid you down, then slid under the covers next to you, pulling you into his embrace until your head was pillowed firmly against his chest.

His heart was beating like a war drum against your ear, his large fingers trembling slightly as he pulled the thin, cool sheets up to tuck you in. He stared at the ceiling, lost in the terrifying shift in his own reality.

Why was he feeling like this? What had happened to the cold, arrogant dynamic you two had shared for so long? The question burned in his mind, sharp and insistent: Did you feel the same?

Unable to hold the mounting anxiety back, he mumbled, “Do you hate me?”

The question came out before he could stop it, brittle and desperate. You stiffened slightly against him, your eyes fluttering open for a brief moment. “I never hated you.”

He hummed, a low vibration in his chest. “Hm.” He shifted, his hand moving to smooth a lock of hair away from your face. “Let me phrase it like this then... do you dislike me still?”

You smiled a little bit, your face scrunching up as you looked up at him hazily, your consciousness drifting further away. You were too exhausted to put up your usual defenses, and you told him half the truth.

“Not so much.”

You leaned forward and kissed his chest without thinking, the action small and intimate, before laying your head back down. His fastened heartbeat drummed in your ears, a frantic, steady rhythm that matched your own.

Thor felt his heart give out as he finally understood what he was feeling.

He was in love with you.

He had been for years, and he was absolutely, completely doomed.

—

You woke up, breathing in deeply as you opened your eyes and stretched your arms. Your eyes widened instantly as the vivid rush of last night’s endeavors hit you.

You slept with Thor.

You quickly looked next to you, your heart ready to leap with hopeful excitement, only to see a completely empty bed. Your heart dropped straight to your stomach. A cold, suffocating weight pressed down on your chest.

Where was he? Did he regret it that much? Did he wake up, realized what he had done with someone as broken as you, and left you all alone the first thing in the morning?

Your hands and feet went completely ice-cold. Your eyes tore up, your nose burning and your throat tightening painfully with incoming tears. Regret. It was the only word screaming in your mind.

You scrambled to your feet, desperately trying to swallow down the sob threatening to break out. Moving on pure autopilot, you quickly started getting ready for breakfast, needing a mask to hide behind. Your hands shook violently as you removed the mascara stains from your cheeks and quickly applied your sunscreen. You pulled on a black strapless summer dress with vibrant pink flowers—it hugged your torso tightly before flaring out beautifully from the waist down. You placed a long-brimmed black summer hat over your hair and slid into black kitten heels. Taking a shaky, shallow breath, you made your way down to the resort’s breakfast area.

The moment you stepped into the restaurant, your blood ran cold. You did not like what you were witnessing. At all.

Thor was there, standing by the open buffet, but he wasn’t alone. There she was—the receptionist girl who had been entirely too into your so-called husband since you arrived. Her hand was resting boldly on his right bicep while he looked down at her, his head turned toward her as he smiled lightly. She was actively flirting with him, and he wasn’t pulling back. Not even after everything he had whispered to you last night. What the hell was a receptionist doing there in the first place?

A dangerous rage built inside you, jealousy brewing hot and toxic, completely melting your insides. You couldn’t help it. Even if Thor didn't want you anymore, even if last night meant nothing to him, nobody was allowed to touch him like that as long as he was playing your husband.

You made your way toward them in fast, sharp strides, the click of your kitten heels masked by the ambient chatter. You stopped directly behind the girl, your index finger tapping her shoulder with an icy firmness.

She quickly turned around, a bright, rehearsed smile on her face, but that smile instantly died the second she registered who was standing there. She was much shorter than you; from beneath the brim of your hat, you were looking down at her with pure, unyielding disdain. A wicked, lethal smile played on your lips—a look that silently screamed, 'You are going to die in ten seconds, and not even the God of Thunder can save you from your demise.'

“My love, you’re awake!” Thor boomed, his face lit up with an instant, radiant brightness the very millisecond his eyes landed on you. You flicked your gaze to him, your chest tight. What a spectacular actor, you thought bitterly.

You looked straight back at the girl. Thor’s eyebrows quickly knitted together as he registered the tension radiating from your posture. “I was just on my way to bring you breakfast—”

“Were you now?” you cut him off, your voice dangerously low, though your eyes never left the receptionist. She was already squirming and trembling under your icy glare.

“I was just—” she stammered, backing up half a step. “You were just leaving,” you cut her off ruthlessly. Then, completely unable to hold yourself back through the blinding haze of your jealousy, you coldly added, “My husband does not have a taste for servants, you know?”

Thor’s eyes widened in sheer shock. You had done the exact one thing you had warned him not to do—you had ignored manners and called her a servant.

The girl nodded frantically, her eyes wide with fear, and immediately scrambled away from Thor, nearly tripping over her own feet to escape you.

The moment she was gone, you turned away from him without giving him a second look. “Baby—” Thor started, his hand reaching out.

“Do not baby me,” you snapped, turning your head back sharply, your eyes flashing with a profound, unyielding coldness that made him freeze.

Thor’s heart dropped straight to his stomach. The sudden, icy wall you had thrown up slapper him in the face so hard he felt your finger prints on his cheek. Did you regret it? Was that what this was? Did you wake up wishing last night had never happened?

“What is going on?” he asked, his voice losing its booming confidence, an edge of panic bleeding through.

You scoffed loudly, completely ignoring his question as you moved toward the stack of plates to grab your own food. You weren't going to stand there and look pathetic. Thor quickly followed on your heels, his massive frame completely blocking out the rest of the crowded restaurant as you aggressively snatched a ceramic plate from the stack. The weight of it felt solid in your shaking fingers—a grounding contrast to the chaos roaring inside your head. He didn't care that there were other guests around; his focus was entirely locked onto you.

“Talk to me, please,” he begged again, his deep voice dropping into a whispered, desperate pitch that only you could hear. “What did I do? Why are you looking at me like that?”

You moved down the line of the open buffet, your eyes fixed forward, your jaw locked tight under the long brim of your black summer hat. You didn't even see the food.

“I look at you exactly how I should look at a partner who fails to maintain the perimeter of our cover,” you whispered coldly, your tone clipped and professional—the ultimate shield to protect your bleeding heart. “We are supposed to be happily married, Thor. Yet I walk into the dining room and find you letting the resort staff treat your bicep like a resting post. It’s sloppy. It risks the mission.”

“The mission?” Thor repeated, and you heard the sharp, pained intake of his breath. He stepped in front of you, completely cutting off your path to the pastry section, forcing you to stop. When you tried to look past him, he leaned down into your line of sight, his blue eyes wide and panicked. “You think I care about the cover right now? Honey, look at me.”

The nickname was a mocking echo of the tenderness from last night. Your eyes snapped up to his, flashing with a dangerous, icy heat. “Do not call me that.”

He felt entirely hopeless, his blue eyes burning with a raw, suffocating pain the more you talked. “Last night—“

“Let's not bring up last night. Ever,” you said, sharply turning your head away from him. You were desperate to protect your heart, to pull the shields up before he could break you completely by saying how much he regretted it.

“What?” he asked, his voice entirely breathless. His lungs felt as though they were constricting in on themselves, a pain burning him from the inside out.

But you didn't answer., you just kept walking, your hands trembling so hard that the ceramic plate in your hands shaked in your grasp. You tried to swallow the thick lump of emotion stuck in your throat, but it wouldn't budge. You loved him, and he regretted you. That was the only reality your brain could process.

You had effectively carved his heart out of his chest and stepped on it with the sharp heel of your shoes, leaving his poor heart to bleed out on the cold floor while you kept thumping it with your foot over and over again. Thor’s head was thumping, his chest feeling completely hollow as he stood frozen, looking at your retreating back. To him, the message was loud and clear: you regretted everything you had given him, while he was deeply, hopelessly in love with you.

The rest of the breakfast passed by in a torturously. You didn't speak a single word to him, and he didn't dare speak to you, far too heartbroken to even think of where to begin mending the fracture. You both just sat there at the table in a heavy, complete silence. Thor spent the entire time staring down at his large, empty hands, while you kept your eyes rigidly fixed on your plate.

After breakfast, you returned to the villa to change for the pool, pulling on a black bikini and a sheer black beach dress. You kept the long-brimmed hat firmly on your head, using it as a barrier to keep yourself from looking at him, and to keep him from looking at you to see your pained expression.

Once down at the resort pool, you settled onto your sunbed for a second before immediately scrambling away to the water, needing to escape his suffocating proximity. Your body tensed up at the first splash, but slowly relaxed as your skin got used to the cold.

It's okay, your mind echoed in a desperate chant, trying to soothe your aching heart. You already got the codes. You can get this entire mission over with tonight, and then you won't ever have to sleep in the same room with him again.

From his sunbed, Thor was watching you like a hawk. He lay there with his massive arms crossed behind his head, his jaw locked so tight the muscles in his cheek flexed repeatedly. His hands were formed into rigid fists, the static electricity in his veins making the air around his chair turn faintly heavy.

Then, the tense silence was abruptly interrupted by a woman's voice coming from next to him. “Hello there, handsome.” She was sitting on a sunbed just one row away, looking to be in her late forties with short, styled blonde hair and a sly, predatory smirk on her face.

Thor didn't even turn his torso. He just spared a brief, icy sideway glance at her before immediately snapping his eyes back to the water, tracking your swimming. “Why are you all alone?” she purred, leaning forward to get his attention. “Your spouse left you to fend for yourself like mine did?” Thor finally turned his head fully away from the pool for a brief second. “I am completely fine. Thank you for your concerns, lady,” he grumbled clearly irritated, his baritone rough and entirely uninviting.

He dismissed her instantly, turning back to look toward the deep end of the pool—only to find you staring straight back at him with a lethal, blinding fire burning hot in your eyes.

He gulped, his breath taken away.

—

After your day in the pool ended and you were back in your villa, the silence between you had grown so heavier. You finally broke it, “I am going to secure the tech tonight.” Thor's back visibly stiffened at the sound of your voice. He turned to face you slowly, his blue eyes guarded. “What do you need me to do?” he asked, his voice rough and gravelly.

You gulped, forcing your professional mask back into place. “Distract Alejandro in the VIP section while I slip away. I'll pretend to go to the bathroom, access the private vault down the hall, and once I have the drive, I'll signal you through the comms so we can leave.” He nodded briefly, his jaw flexing. “Okay,” he whispered.

The process of getting ready was done in a tense, rhythmic quiet. Thor threw on a black linen shirt and charcoal linen pants, looking effortlessly devastating. You opted for a flowy, lightweight black dress that gave you maximum mobility, pairing it with flat, elegant leather sandals—you needed to be comfortable and silent on your feet tonight.

You headed down to dinner, the atmosphere of the resort's high-end restaurant buzzing around you while you sat like ghosts. You tried to eat whatever your stomach would allow, but you had absolutely no appetite after the events of the day. Every time your eyes accidentally met his, you both looked away, shielding your wounds. Once dinner was cleared, it was time. You made your way toward the exclusive VIP lounge, immediately spotting Alejandro lounging in a velvet booth surrounded by bodyguards. You and Thor exchanged a quick, imperceptible glance, checked the small clicks of your earpieces, and nodded.

Alejandro boomed with laughter the moment he saw you approach. “My friends! Welcome, welcome!” he cried, throwing his arms wide open in his usual boisterous display.

You both forced tight, practiced smiles onto your faces. Thor stepped forward, giving the man a brief, friendly hug before turning toward the booth to sit down. Before you could even slide onto the leather cushion next to him, Thor’s large hand securely gripped your waist. Your heart instantly went completely haywire as he effortlessly lifted you and pulled you right down onto his lap.

You two had been distant all day. He had to hold you. He needed to make amends, to feel the heat of your skin against his, even if it was just under the guise of the mission. At least, that was the only excuse his desperate mind could construct if you angrly yelled at him about it later.

You smiled tightly for Alejandro's benefit, but your fingers dug with an icy, warning firmness into the back of Thor's thick neck—a silent, furious message for him to let go. But Thor didn't care. He didn't care about the silent threat as long as he got to hold you in his arms for just a second longer before this mission ended and you went back to the compound to avoid him forever. He simply tightened his grip, pulling you flush against his chest, and smiled widely at Alejandro.

Alejandro chuckled deeply at the display of affection. “Always passionate, I see.”

You turned a sickly sweet smile toward the arms dealer, leaning into the cover. “Always,” you cooed, before casually looking around the lounge. “Where is Valentin tonight?” You instantly felt Thor's fingers dig sharply into your waist, his grip turning possessive at the mention of the man he had been burning with jealousy over. Alejandro made a dismissive, ‘don't care’ gesture with his hand. “Ah, he claims he is sick. Staying in his villa tonight.”

“Oh, poor guy,” you purred, feigning deep sympathy. “I hope he gets better soon.” Thor’s fingers dug even deeper into your hip bone, a silent, growling protest that you had to actively ignore.

You endured another twenty minutes of Alejandro’s endless boasting, monitoring the guard rotation out of the corner of your eye. Finally, the hallway leading to the back offices cleared. You lightly tapped Thor’s broad shoulder, signaling him that it was time. "I need to go to the restroom, honey," you said loudly enough for the table to hear, sliding off his lap.

He didn't protest, maintaining his role, but his blue eyes burned holes straight through your frame as you walked away. The moment you turned the corner out of the lounge's line of sight, the sweet smile vanished from your face. Your heart rate spiked, breathing sharpening as you slipped into the dim, restricted corridor. Using the digital master key you had covertly cloned from the resort's mainframe, you bypassed the electronic lock on Alejandro's private office in three seconds flat. The door clicked open with a faint hiss. You slipped inside, closing it silently behind you.

The room was dark, illuminated only by the ambient glow of the resort's outdoor lights filtering through the blinds. You moved like a shadow across the plush carpet, heading straight for the ornate bookshelf on the far wall. Pressing the hidden release mechanism behind a heavy brass statue, the wall ground open to reveal a reinforced titanium safe. Your fingers flew across the keypad, inputting the encryption codes you had painfully secured earlier in the week. BEEP. The safe's heavy bolts retracted. You quickly dismanntled the failsafe and looked inside the safe.

There, resting on a velvet cushion, was a glowing, intricately carved container pulsing with a faint, dark energy—the stolen Dark Elf convergence technology. Beside it lay the encrypted flash drive containing the buyers' manifests. Your breath hitched. This was it. The culmination of hours of putting up with Thor, hours of hiding your heart, hours of surviving. You carefully wrapped the artifact in a specialized containment cloth to mask its energy signature, slipping it and the drive into the secure inner pocket of your dress.

You locked the safe, closed the hidden door, and stepped back out into the hallway, your heart hammering against your ribs. Pressing your finger to your earpiece, “Package secured. Perimeter clear. Let's mo—“ you were cut off as a heavy, sweating hand clamped brutally over your mouth from behind, and the cold steel of a gun barrel pressed hard into the side of your head. Fuck.

Back in the VIP lounge, Thor’s earpiece crackled with your voice. The sound instantly soothed his aching heart, but the relief didn't last long. You were cut off mid-word, your voice muffled into a sharp static gasp. His heart dropped straight to his stomach, cold dread instantly replacing his focus. What the fuck?

He smoothly stood up, cutting Alejandro off mid-sentence with a firm, booming laugh as he patted the man's shoulder, masking the terror roaring in his veins. "It has been an absolute pleasure, Alejandro, but my wife has been feeling quite fatigued from our travels. I must take her back to our quarters," Thor said, his tone leaving absolutely no room for argument. Before Alejandro could even protest, Thor was already walking away, his long strides carrying him down the corridor. “Little Flame? What is happening?” he whispered franticallyy into his comms, his hands trembling with a mix of fear and rising fury.

You didn't respond. The silence on the other end drove him to the edge. The second he stepped into the shadow of the back hallway, out of sight of the guests, he raised his hand. With a crackle, Stormbreaker materialized into his grip, the blue sparks already dancing along the heavy blade.

“So you were here to get to this, all along?” came Valentin's sharp, bitter voice from behind you. Thor's voice crackled instantly in your ear, low and lethal. “Is it him?” Bound by the hand over your mouth, you could only press a tight, affirmative hum into the microphone.

Valentin spoke again, his grip tightening. "The only reason why you were interested in me?" He sounded entirely wrecked, like he couldn't believe his own ego had been brokenby a spy. You gulped, trying to calculate your leverage. Sensing your shift, he cautiously removed his hand from your mouth to let you speak, keeping the gun digging into your temple. “Valentin, calm dow—“ CRACK. He ruthlessly smacked the heavy side of the gun against the side of your head. The force made your head snap to the side, a low, painful grunt ripping from your throat as your vision blurred for a split second. This motherfucker.

“Did he just fucking hit you?” came Thor's roaring voice through the comms, the nger in his tone vibrating so hard it rattled your earpiece. You quickly let out another hum, trying to mask it as a groan of lingering pain so that Valentin wouldn't realize you were on an active channel. “Are you still in the same spot?” Thor demanded, his footsteps shaking the building as he sprinted toward your coordinates. This fucker had absolutely no chance. He was dying tonight.

You hummed again in confirmation, which only served to irritate Valentin further. He grabbed your chin, turning your face toward him, forcing you to look into his wild, unhinged eyes. A crazy, desperate smile spread across his face. “I think you should give me a kiss before you go,” he whispered darkly. He closed his eyes, leaning his face directly into yours. Big mistake.

The second his eyes shut, your training took over. You threw your head back, violently slamming the crown of your skull against his nose. He staggered back with a curse, and you used the momentum to drive a sharp elbow directly into his ribs, successfully hitting the gun away from your head. You spun, sweeping your leg out to take his ankles, but Valentin was fueled by pure adrenaline; he managed to catch his balance, his face twisting in fury as he lunged forward. He slammed you back against the wall, his hand locking tightly around your neck, and pointed the gun straight at your head from the front, yelling directly into your face.

But before he could even pull the trigger—before he could do anything at all—the gun in his hand was struck by a massive, flying axe. Stormbreaker sheared the weapon completely in half, embedding itself deep into the wall with a deafening thud. “I told you to stay away from her, did I not?”

And then came hell. Thor burst through the doorway, a literal storm rolling in behind him. He didn't even use his weapon. He descended on Valentin like an enraged deity, reaching out and grabbing the man by the collar of his expensive suit. “No—“ Valentin scrambled, his face draining of all color as he looked up into the face of a god.

“You hit her, and you tried to kiss her?” Thor rumbled, his voice shaking the light fixtures above. “You are in big trouble, boy.”

With a display of raw strength, Thor hoisted him completely off the floor and slammed him ruthlessly against the concrete wall. Thor's eyes completely turned into a blinding, static blue, the white-hot electricity arcing across his shoulders and down his arms. Valentin desperately pleaded for his life, gasping for air, but Thor was entirely deaf to it.

You slid down to the floor, clutching your throbbing head, watching the entire scene unfold in awe. Thor grabbed Valentin by the neck, lifting him higher, and delivered two brutal, bone-crushing punches straight to his jaw. Then, with a dark, final grunt of fury, he let the lightning loose. A massive burst of pure electricity fried Valentin instantly, dropping his lifeless body to the floor in a smoking heap. Oops.

The room went quiet, save for the faint hum of residual static. Thor immediately spun around, the terrifying god of war instantly vanishing the moment his eyes landed on you. He rushed to his knees at your side, his large hand gently but firmly holding your jaw, tilting your head up to assess the dark bruising swelling near your temple.

You tried to pull away slightly, the intensity of his focus making your chest tighten. “I'm fine,” you muttered. But your heart was beating erratically in your chest, completely overwhelmed by the unhinged protectiveness he had just shown. He had literally killed a man for putting a hand on you. He was fussing over you like you were the most precious thing in the universe. Was he really the same guy you thought regretted everything this morning?

Seeing the deep, pained expression of guilt and fear swirling in his blue eyes, you let out a soft sigh, your voice softening. “I heal fast, remember?” Thor cleared his throat, his thumb lingering against your jaw for one more second before he reluctantly nodded and let you go.

He helped you up and you both quickly slipped out of the room, heading out into the humid night air. You sprinted back to the villa, throwing your clothes into your luggage in a silent rush, before moving stealthily toward the designated extraction point in the cliffs. Once outside in the dark, Thor held Stormbreaker high into the sky, the Bifrost roaring down in a blinding beam of rainbow light, swallowing you both whole.

—

It has been two days since you came back, and you and Thor were completely ignoring each other. It was obvious to everyone else in the compound; it was the exact polar opposite of what you guys were always like. Normally, you kept riling each other up because you secretly loved it. You yelled at each other, threatened each other daily, but you were always together, attached at the hip like some dysfunctional shadow.

Now? He let you have your morning coffee without a single fuss. You let him be whenever he talked like the booming Asgardian he is, not even bothering to roll your eyes. You weren't even in the same room unless it was absolutely necessary to begin with; either you or Thor would leave the second the other walked in. It was an undeniable fact that youwere both desperately staying away from each other.

And you missed him. You missed the way he riled you up, missed the way he smiled down at you with that smug but inexplicably sweet expression on his face... you missed him so much it hurt your very soul. Natasha had quietly asked about it, Tony made a few mocking jokes, Steve only silently analyzed you two with a furrowed brow, and Scott? Well, Scott wasn't really aware of anything going on. But Rocket had literally yelled, “Why the hell are you two not fighting?!” at the both of you in the kitchen yesterday. You had only turned and left the room without a word, while Thor merely grunted, staring miserably into his mug as he sipped his coffee.

You had mandatory team training today. Eager to avoid any confrontation, you woke up at 5:00 AM just to have your coffee and breakfast completely away from him and everyone else, before retreating straight back to your room to get ready into your tight, black gear.

Thor woke up a few hours later and had his coffee as usual, but it felt entirely tasteless without the usual, fiery fight he had with you over who got to pour the first cup. Fuck, he missed you. He missed you so much he felt it aching deep in his bones, his heart, his lungs—everywhere. He hated this distance. He hated the silence.

He quickly made his way down to the training area, his intense blue eyes scanning the perimeter the second he stepped foot on the grass, instantly searching for you. And there you were near the equipment mats, talking to Steve with a quiet familiarity, just like you had been doing for the last two days. The sight of you leaning in slightly to hear what the captain was saying made rage build inside Thor's chest. The static in his veins flared, his jaw locking hard as his fists clenched at his sides.

It cannot be, his mind echoed fiercely, a desperate attempt to talk himself down. You are getting jealous over nothing. He is merely her teammate. But as he watched Steve laugh at something you said, Thor's chest hollowed out with that same burning, possessive fire that had consumed him before. He turned his head away, staring out across the vast, sun-drenched gardens of the compound, trying to force his breathing to steady. He was clearly out of his mind. He was a god, for kingdoms' sake, yet he was ready to throw down with the Captain over a simple conversation.

Meanwhile, out on the grass near the training mats, you and Steve were actually talking about the exact elephant in the room. “Tell me, doll, what happened with you two?” Steve asked, his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze shifting between you and the brooding god standing fifty yards away by the glass doors. “Nothing” you said immediately, adjusting the tracking straps on your wrists, trying to deflect. “It's obvious, you know? Don't bother lying.” Steve’s voice was gentle, but persistent.

You looked down at your combat boots, the weight of the secret pressing too heavily on your chest. Looking around to ensure no one else was in earshot, you finally whispered, “We slept together, Steve.” Steve's eyebrows furrowed in deep, pure confusion. “Okay... I know you don't exactly like the guy, but sleeping in the same bed couldn't have caused this much of a disaster—“ You snapped your head up and rolled your eyes, letting out a heavy sigh. Idiots. The whole lot of them were pure idiots. “Steve. Not like that,” you said, slapping your hand against your forehead. He had completely dismissed the actual option because his straight-laced brain simply couldn't believe it.

“What do you mean?” he asked again, completely lost.

You huffed, crossing your arms tightly. “We had sex.”

Steve’s eyes widened to the size of saucers, his arms instantly uncrossing as his brain short-circuited. “You—“ he pointed a finger at you, then pointed vaguely in Thor's direction. “Thor—“ he stammered, blubbering out in total confusion, it was very uncharacteristic of him you admit.

“Yes,” you cut him off, wanting to get the bandage ripped off. “And he regrets it, but me? I'm completely in love with him. Yay!” you said sarcastically, clapping your hands together in a mocking, bitter celebration.

Steve stood there in pure shock. You had never seen the Captain America look so entirely stunned, but then, something passed through his eyes. It was like a veil had been lifted, an entire timeline of events rewriting itself in his mind. “That's why you guys were always together,” he said, realization dawning on him. “You two are completely in love—“

“Whoa! Hold your horses,” you interrupted, your face heating up under the morning sun. “I am the one who's in love. Not him. He couldn't wait to escape the bed the next morning—“

“He is definitely in love with you—“ Steve started to counter, his voice laced with the certainty of a man who had been watching Thor pine from the sidelines for years. But whatever wisdom he was about to drop was loudly cut off by Tony’s voice echoing across the lawn through a megaphone. “We're all here, folks, let's get started! Cap, stop flirting with Shadow, goldilocks looks like he's about to blast you with lightning!” Tony yelled, gesturing toward the center of the field.

You stiffened, your eyes instinctively darting over to Thor, who was already marching onto the grass, his expression promising devastation for whoever had to spar with him today.

Your heart fastened at the sight of him, your eyes darting over his heavy frame, completely unable to control the sudden spike in your pulse. Steve grumbled something under his breath about Tony being incredibly annoying as he stood up and offered you a hand. You took his hand and got up, brushing the grass off your tight athletic pants.

Suddenly, a faint rumble of thunder vibrated through the ground. You paused, your eyebrows furrowing as you looked up at the sky, only to see bright, uninterrupted sunshine. Your eyebrows furrowed deeper. Okay... were you actually going insane?

“Did you hear that?” Steve asked quietly, looking over at you. You nodded, relieved that you weren't the only one losing your mind. But then Steve’s lips twitched into a knowing, subtle smirk. “Not in love with you, you said?” he murmured, giving you a pointed look before he turned and walked toward the center of the lawn.

You stood frozen in place for two more seconds, processing his words, before forcing your feet to move toward the rest of the team. Thor, Steve, Tony, Bruce, Scott, Nat, Clint, and even Rocket—everyone was gathered on the grass.

“Alright, listen up, children,” Tony announced, clapping his hands together. “Today we're doing partner drills. Mixed combat.” Rocket immediately hopped forward, pointing a tiny, clawed finger at you. “Pair me with Shadow! I wanna be her badass partner!”

“Why does this bunny keep yelling?” Tony muttered, rubbing his temples before looking down at the raccoon and pointing a dramatic finger across the yard. “No! Look at pointbreak over there!” He gestured toward Thor, who was standing like a dark, towering statue of menace, the grass practically singeing beneath his boots. “He's going to be her partner or we're all getting barbecued today!”

Your expression soured instantly. Okay, what the hell? Did everyone switch sides? Tony knew Thor despised you so why would he try to pair you up with him? Rocket turned his head to look at Thor, blinked at the glare the god was throwing his way, and made a startled, defensive expression. “Okay, yeah, you're right.” But then Rocket snapped his head back to Tony, baring his teeth. “I'm not a fucking bunny!”

Steve immediately interrupted, his captain instincts kicking in. “Rocket, language!” You rolled your eyes heavily. “Really, Steve?”

“Grandpa,” Tony muttered in agreement, rolling his eyes. “Alright, let's start.”

Your partner was Thor, as Tony had so graciously assigned, and standing across from you on the mats was Steve paired up with Bruce. The strategy was obvious—Bruce was meant to keep Thor occupied. The second the starting signal was given, Hulk lunged straight at Thor.

While Thor was engaged, his massive fists trading heavy blows with the green giant, he kept looking sideways at you. He was completely distracted by how easily you and Steve had slid into perfect synchronization. His blood burned hot in his veins. Focus, his mind echoed fiercely, but every time he saw Steve catch your arm to fling you into a high kick, his vision swam with red. With a roar of frustration, Thor drove a massive punch straight into the Hulk's jaw, sending the massive beast stumbling back a few heavy steps.

Meanwhile, you and Steve were moving seamlessly. You ducked low under Steve's arm, using his shoulder as leverage to drive a brutal spin-kick directly into his abdomen but he caught your foot smiling at you. You retreated yoou foot, vaulted off the ground, twisting mid-air to deliver a kick. But something that shouldn't have happened, happened. As you came down, Steve extended a hand, catching you firmly by the waist to stabilize your landing.

The moment Steve’s hands locked onto your waist, the sky changed. Thick, dark storm clouds suddenly swirled over the compound out of nowhere, completely blocking the sun in a matter of seconds. A massive, deafening rumble of thunder crashed directly overhead, accompanied by a simple, gravelly growl, “No.”

You blinked, looking over just in time to see Thor completely abandon his fight with the Hulk, turning his back on the training exercise entirely as he marched straight toward you.

“No,” he simply repeated, his face a mask of pure fury. Before you or Steve could even register what was happening, Thor reached out, his hands wrapping around your upper arms, and yanked you away from Steve, pulling you flush against his chest.

Your eyes narrowed into lethal slits, the physical contact setting your nerves on fire. “What the hell do you think you're doing?”

“I am removing you from Steve's arms,” he stated matter-of-factly, his chest heaving heavily against your back, his deep voice carrying a possessive finality.

Every single eye on the field was instantly focused on the two of you. The entire team stood frozen in pure shock—except for Steve. Steve would have been shocked too, if he hadn't just heard your confession three minutes prior.

“Thor, calm down,” Steve said evenly, raising his hands in a placating gesture.

But Thor snapped his head up, his blue eyes blazing with static electricity. “Do not talk, Steve,” he threatened, a rumble vibrating from his throat. Absolute displeasure and violence radiated off his massive frame.

“Don't,” you hissed, struggling fiercely against his iron grip, trying to wrench your arms free. “Don't you dare try to act all possessive now, when you are the one who regrets everything—“

“Regret?” Thor asked, the word cutting through his anger as he stopped, staring down at you. “Me?”

Then, to your utter fury, he let out a dark, breathless chuckle. “You are a hypocrite, Little Flame.”

Natasha took one look at the amount of tension and immediately turned to the rest of the team. “I think we should give them space.” Tony didn't even glance away, his eyes wide as he actively enjoyed the spectacle. It was like he was watching his absolute favorite primetime drama play out live. “Why? We're all outdoors. Shouldn't they be the ones to go inside for privac—“

“Tony,” Natasha said warning him.

“Okay, alright,” Tony caved, raising his hands.

He and the rest of the team quickly retreated toward the compound, but even Natasha couldn't help herself; the second they got inside, the entire lineup of Avengers pressed themselves against the glass doors, watching the drama unfold through the windows.

“What is that supposed to mean?” You countered fiercely, turning fully in his grip to face him, your chest heaving.

“You are the one who regrets everything! Flirting with Steve the second you came back—“

“Excuse me? We were not flirting!” you yelled back, chuckling in pure, broken frustration as you looked away for a split second before snapping your eyes back to his burning gaze. “We were talking, like friends do! Hold on—you don't get to question me on that, seeing as you were clearly comfortable flirting with her!”

Thor huffed, his eyebrows furrowing in genuine confusion. “Who have I flirted with?!”

“Don't play dumb now, Thor! THE RECEPTIONIST!” you screamed, the weight of the last forty-eight hours finally breaking through your defenses. Tears of hot, angry frustration built up rapidly in your eyes, blurring your vision as your voice cracked. “You left me the second the sun rose! You left the bed completely empty! And then you proceeded to go and flirt with her!”

“I was not flirting with her!” he bellowed, the desperation in his voice cracking through the thunder rolling above. “I woke up early because I wanted to surprise you,” he insisted, completely ignoring the venom dripping from your words. “You were sleeping so deeply... you looked so peaceful, and I did not want to wake you. I went down there specifically to get your favorite fruits and coffee to bring back to our quarters. That girl—she just approached me. I did not even hear a word she said, I swear it to you by the All-Father! I was only thinking of you.”

You scoffed, a broken, trembling sound. “And the smiling?” you challenged, your voice shaking despite your best efforts to keep your shields up. “You looked down at her and smiled, Thor. I saw you.”

He shook his head frantically, “I was smiling because I was happy!” he burst out, his massive chest heaving under his athletic shirt. “I was thinking about how you looked in my arms. I was thinking about what you told me before you slept. I was happy because of you, Little Flame. Not her. Never her.”

You stared up at him, your breath hitching sharply in your throat. He sounded so painfully sincere, so desperately eager to clear his name, but the cold dread of your own insecurities was still screaming in the back of your mind.

“You left the bed empty,” you whispered, your professional facade completely shattering as your voice cracked, exposing the raw, bleeding core of your heart. “You weren't there when I woke up.”

Thor froze. His eyebrows knitted together tightly as the realization of what you had been torturing yourself with finally dawned on his mind. His heart dropped straight to his stomach, a weight crushing him as he realized the terror and abandonment he had accidentally put you through.

“Oh, gods,” he breathed, his fierce, possessive expression melting into pure heartbreak. His voice cracked with emotion. “You thought I regretted it? You thought I left you?”

You looked away, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze. “You—“ You tried to speak, but a small, pathetic sniffle escaped you instead. The sound made Thor take a sharp, painful intake of breath. Moving instantly, his large hand came up, his fingers gently but firmly holding your chin to force your face back up so you had to look at him.

“I do not regret it. I could never regret it,” he said, his blue eyes swimming with a matching pain as he looked down at your tear-stained face.

You sniffled again, looking up at him through wet lashes. Your heart was beating frantically against your ribs, a spark of dangerous, beautiful hope flaring to life in your chest. Taking a breath, you asked something you never, in a million years, thought you would ever ask the arrogant god.

“Do you like me?” you whispered, your small hand coming up to hold the thick wrist of the arm holding your chin.

Thor's face immediately scrunched up into a deeply offended, dismissive expression. “Not so much.”

Your heart instantly dropped straight to your stomach, the rejection freezing your blood. “But you—“

Before you could finish the sentence, Thor reached out and grabbed your cheeks with both of his massive hands, tilting your head up as he brought his mouth down on yours. He kissed you deeply, passionately, a bruising, breathless possession that completely wiped all thoughts from your brain. When he finally pulled back just a fraction, his thumbs wiping the fresh tears from your cheeks, he continued his sentence.

“I do not like you. I am completely and utterly in love with you,” he confessed, the words hitting you right in the center of your chest.

A startled, watery laugh bubbled out of your throat. “You dumbass,” you chuckled, your hands moving to grip his forearms as a massive, radiant smile finally broke across your face. “Why would you word it like that?” Thor didn't care about his poor phrasing; his eyes were boring into yours with an intense, desperate seriousness. “Do you?” he asked, looking down at you with adoration.

“Do I what?”

“Regret it,”

“I don't,” you said, shaking your head without a single second of hesitation. “Why would I, when you are the man I am completely in love with?” you whispered, finally letting the confession pass your lips.

Thor’s blue eyes lit up like a blinding flash of lightning. A breathtaking smile split his handsome face, and without waiting another syllable, he slammed his lips back onto yours, kissing you with a ferocious, joyful hunger.

“I do not know what is wrong with me, Little Flame,” he mumbled against your lips between deep, bruising kisses. “I do not know how I did not realize sooner how pathetically in love I am with you.” His large hands slid down from your face, wrapping firmly around your waist and lifting you slightly off the grass to deepen the kiss, completely forgetting they were standing in the middle of a compound training field.

Inside the building, behind the massive glass doors, the entire lineup of Avengers was pressed flat against the window. Tony was rooted completely in place, his mouth agape, his hands raised in bewilderment. “Are you guys seeing what I am seeing, or am I hallucinating? Is Point break currently kissing Shadow?” Natasha stood next to him, a triumphant, knowing smirk spreading across her lips as she crossed her arms. “About damn time.”

Outside, Thor kept kissing you thoroughly, but suddenly, he pulled his face away by a mere inch. Your eyebrows knitted together in immediate irritation at the loss of contact. “What is it?” You asked. Thor hesitated, his jaw flexing as he muttered just one word, the lingering jealousy still clear in his tone: “Steve?”

You rolled your eyes, letting out a breathless laugh as you locked your hands behind his neck and pulled his head right back down to your lips. “Don't piss me off while I'm kissing you,” you murmured against his mouth.

Thor let out a low, vibrating hum of pure compliance against your lips. “You are right, I’m sorry, I love you,” he mumbled onto your mouth, his grip on your waist tightening as he buried his face back into yours.

—

Masterlist

Taglist: @sinceimetyou @awkwardgiraffe726 @midasgard @mediocre-introvert @gurlidkiread @claytaysversion @landocat

[smgespn]

Not So Much

Masterlist

Pairing: Thor Odinson X Reader

Summary: He was your teammate but also the person you disliked the most in the universe. He was always loud, he thrived on impulsive decisions, and he loved annoying you. You were the opposite, you moved through shadows quietly, analyzed every move before you made them. And now? They were sending you on a mission with him. Just the two of you. As husband and wife.

Content: Fake Marriage, Enemies To Lovers, Forced Proximity, Yearning, Tension, Slow Burn, Angst, Infinity War-Endgame Thor, King Thor, Protective Thor, Jealous Thor, Possessive Thor, Jealous Reader, They Are Touching Each Other Every Chance They Get, Bickering Final Boss, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Explicit SMUT (It starts from '—', and ends with it so you can skip it if you want)

Word Count: 40k

Note: I live for annoying but sweet Thor 😭 His most dominant personality traits i swear and the way he gets angry FAST😛 My mannn fr (took me a whole month to write this, not proofread sorry for any typos or mistakes)

Minors Do Not Interact

—

You wanted to kill him.

You wanted, with every fiber of your being, to wrap your hands around his thick, infuriating neck and choke the life out of him right there on the polished marble floor of the Avengers Compound kitchen. It was a beautiful, violent fantasy that played in your mind in vivid detail—but unfortunately for you, the man was a damn god, and your fingers would probably snap before his airway even constricted.

“I said no, Thor. I got here first,” you hissed, your voice a sharp, venomous whisper as you slammed your shoulder into his side, trying to forcefully shove his massive frame away from the espresso machine.

The sleek chrome appliance sat on the counter like a holy grail, reflecting the harsh morning light. At this ungodly hour, that single machine was the only thing bonding your soul to the realm of the living. You just loved your morning coffee too much. It was the one ritual that made your life feel somewhat normal. And he, as always, was standing squarely in the way—demanding, with all the unearned arrogance of Asgardian royalty, that he be the first one to use it.

“Stop pushing me away, will you? It does nothing but tickle me, Little Flame,” he grumbled, a deep sound that came from somewhere deep in his broad chest.

He didn't even look at you, his eyes fixed on the digital screen of the machine as his large hands came down to carelessly pry your fingers off his waist. Your eyes narrowed into lethal slits, the heat rising in your cheeks at the sound of the ridiculous nickname and the casual condescension dripping from his tone.

“I have been telling you for years, Thor, stop calling me that,” you snapped, pulling your hands back and crossing them over your chest in a furious, protective stance. “And what is that supposed to mean? Are you implying that I’m weak?”

Thor finally turned his head, his short, textured blonde hair catching the fluorescent lights. A lazy, incredibly punchable smirk broke across his handsome face. He held his massive, heavily muscled arm out horizontally, creating an unbreakable physical barrier that completely blocked you from reaching the coffee pods.

“Why? I think it rather suits you. Feisty little—”

Before he could finish the sentence, you slapped his forearm with a loud, resounding smack, grabbing his wrist with both hands and pulling down with all your weight, trying to rip his arm away from the machine. It was like trying to move a mountain with a piece of string.

“Weaker than me, surely,” he said, his smirk widening as he easily kept his arm locked in place against your full-body strain.

Okay, fine. He was stating a cold, unyielding fact. He was a cosmic entity. He was objectively, biologically stronger than you. Your cell structure had been locked in a permanent, un-aging loop by a rogue lab experiment, giving you endless youth and an unbreakable healing factor—not the brute strength to wrestle the God of Thunder. But you would rather walk barefoot on needles than ever admit his physical superiority to his face.

“What are you two bickering about again?”

Natasha’s exhausted, monotone voice sliced through the tension. She walked into the kitchen, holding an empty mug, her green eyes fixed on the two of you with the heavy, soul-deep weariness of a woman who was entirely done with you being at each other's throats every five minutes.

That was the true tragedy of your existence. Outside the reinforced walls of this compound, Thor was a global icon. He was the golden savior, a benevolent, charming god who was nice to every single human being he encountered. If you went to the press and told them how much he absolutely loved to torment, provoke, and annoy you on a daily basis, not a single soul on Earth would believe you. To the rest of the universe, he was a god. To you, he was a giant, golden-retriever-brained nuisance.

Your left eye literally twitched with fury as you whipped your head around to face Nat. “He’s being a child again!”

“I am only in need of my morning beverage—” Thor protested smoothly.

“I got here first!” You spun back toward him, throwing your hands up in the air, your eyes wide with erratic anger.

“And I will be drinking my coffee, first,” he replied with a smug tilt of his chin.

Before you could lunge forward to block him, his large fingers immediately darted past your face and pushed the start button. The machine whirred to life, a dark stream of espresso pouring directly into the ceramic cup you had painstakingly selected and placed there a minute ago.

Thor watched the liquid fill the mug, leaning his hip against the counter as he grabbed the handle. “See? Easy as that,” he mumbled, grinning straight into the steam as he took a slow, loud, deliberate sip right in front of your face.

Your face went a furious, burning red. Your breath hitched, your vision blurring with a wave of pure, chaotic rage. You wanted to grab that hot mug straight out of his hand and throw the boiling liquid right over his clean grey t-shirt. You wanted to watch the stain spread across his chest while you laughed in his face.

Honestly? That was a damn good idea. Your muscles coiled, your fingers twitching as you prepared to lunge at him and commit a felony.

But just as your sneakers gripped the tile, Natasha let out a sharp, interrupting sigh. “The team is waiting for you in the briefing room,” she said, turning on her heel and gesturing toward the sliding glass doors of the hallway. “Let’s go, lovebirds.”

The words cut through the kitchen like a sudden frost. You and Thor both froze instantly, the childish hostility evaporating into a stunned, icy paralysis.

“What?” you said in perfect unison. The word tore from your throats at the exact same second, your voices blending together as you both whipped your heads around to look at Natasha. But she didn't stop to explain—she simply walked down the corridor toward the war room, a wicked, knowing smirk playing on the corner of her lips as she left the two of you standing in the quiet kitchen, completely blindsided by the ominous weight of her words.

“Fucking weirdos everywhere,” you grumbled under your breath.

Before he could even swallow his next stolen sip, you forcefully jammed your palms right into the center of his chest. You used every single ounce of strength your muscles could muster up, throwing your entire body weight into the strike. You needed that damn coffee, and you would get that damn coffee.

Thor actually stumbled back a step, a booming chuckle ripping from his throat at the absolute volatility of your expression. You were completely furious. He honestly had no idea why annoying you brought him such immense satisfaction, but it did. It was an addiction at this point.

In his eyes, you were just absolutely no fun. From the very first day he met you, you had done nothing but jab at him for being too loud and obvious. You were always rolling your eyes, saying things like, “You only know how to smash things and be reckless, Thor,” and “Stealth is an actual concept, you know?”

Now, Thor didn't dislike a lot of people. He was a damn lovable person—the golden boy of the Nine Realms, and now, an absolutely attentive king. But when it came to you? He couldn't help it. You rubbed him the wrong way all the damn time, your sharp tongue grating on his nerves. He could say with absolute, unyielding certainty that he disliked you. A lot.

You were still grumbling under your breath about him stealing your favorite ceramic mug when you noticed his massive shadow was still hovering directly over you.

“Why are you still here?” you asked, your voice coming out far more irritated than it should have. You internally cursed yourself; you were giving him way too much power over your emotions.

“I simply want to watch you sip on your beverage after me,” he said, flashing you a brilliant, smug smile.

You huffed, grabbing your freshly poured cup from the machine. “Thor, just call it coffee. Calling it a beverage does not make it sound any fancier.”

You slid past his broad shoulder, taking a deliberate, aggressive sip of your drink before making your way toward the sliding glass doors of the briefing room. He immediately fell into step behind you, his massive, sweeping strides matching yours in a pure, frustrating rhythm.

“It does sound better when I call it a beverage,” he argued, his heavy leather boots thudding loudly against the floorboards as if he could make his statement more convincing by physical force.

“Sure, lord of thunder,” you murmured, a wicked, knowing smirk pulling at your lips. You knew exactly which buttons to push, and that specific title was your absolute favorite weapon.

“I am the god of thunder!” he hissed from behind you, his voice dropping into a defensive, offended rumble. “You know what? I know you are doing this on purpose—you are intentionally trying to—”

You pushed through the glass doors, entering the sleek, high-tech briefing room with the God of Thunder hot on your heels, still fiercely grumbling about the distinct theological differences between a lord and a god.

“Ah, our favorite couple, arguing again,” Tony said loudly, opening his arms wide in a dramatic, welcoming gesture from the head of the conference table. He leaned back in his chair, a classic, mischievous glint in his eyes. “Still not able to decide whether they want to kill each other or fuck—“

Before the final, crude word could even leave his mouth, your reflexes took over. Your hand blurred. You snatched a thick, heavy tactical folder from the edge of the table and launched it through the air with lethal, pinpoint precision.

Smack. The folder hit Tony squarely across the bridge of his nose, the papers scattering in a neat halo around his chair.

“Ow! Okay, there was absolutely no need for that,” Tony muttered, wincing as he gingerly adjusted his tinted glasses, though the smirk never truly left his face. He looked over at Natasha and Steve, who were already seated, completely unfazed by the morning violence.

“You talk too much, Stark,” Thor grumbled, pulling out a chair and dropping his massive frame into it with a loud thud that resonated through the room.

Your eyebrows shot up instantly as you sat down yourself. “Says you?” you retorted, gesturing toward his broad chest with your coffee mug. “You literally haven't shut up since the kitchen.”

“Let’s just focus on our objective, okay, guys?” Steve said, running a tired palm over his face, completely done with your collective energy so early in the morning. He pushed himself up from his seat next to Tony, leaning his broad shoulders over the holographic table to command the room.

Steve tapped the digital console, and the lights in the briefing room dimmed instantly, replaced by a glowing, three-dimensional blueprint of an ultra-private luxury island floating in the Mediterranean.

“Our focus is here: The Sanctuary,” Steve began, his voice dropping into his serious captain tone. “On paper, it’s an exclusive, hyper-secure resort for the world's billionaires, corrupt politicians, and elite criminals. But over the last forty-eight hours, our satellites intercepted an unencrypted dark-web signal bouncing from the island’s lower levels. A rogue faction has managed to smuggle a massive cache of volatile, leftover Dark Elf technology onto the premises. They’re hosting a private, black-market auction to sell it off to the highest bidder.”

You leaned forward, your brain instantly analyzing the island's perimeter. “So we drop in, neutralize the buyers, and secure the tech. Sounds like a standard Tuesday. Why are we all sitting here?”

“Because it’s a hostage situation waiting to happen if we go in loud,” Natasha spoke up from the corner, her fingers tapping against her tablet. “The entire island is rigged with a quantum-fission failsafe connected to the central vault. If the resort’s biometric security detects a frontal assault, a breach, or a single Quinjet on their radar, the system will instantly detonate the alien cache. It’ll vaporize the island and take half of Western Europe out with the blast wave. It requires a ghost to dismantle the failsafe from the inside.”

“A ghost?” you repeated, a slow, dark smile creeping onto your face. “Perfect. I’ll go in undercover as a maid, slip into the server room, kill the signal, and leave before anyone even finishes their champagne.”

“You’re half right,” Tony cut in, tapping his pen against his cheek. “You are going undercover. But you’re not going as a maid, Shadow. The resort has a strict, biometric-level verification system for all service staff, but their guest list is curated entirely by the billionaire owner—an eccentric, power-obsessed arms dealer named Moretti. He has a strict ‘No Media, Couples Only’ policy for his guests to protect their privacy.”

Tony smirked, leaning forward and typing a command into his console. The holographic display shifted from the island to a digital invitation, written in gold lettering, making your eyes go wide. No.

“Moretti is obsessed with power, gods, and mythology,” Tony explained, his eyes darting between you and the blonde King sitting across from you. “He doesn't just want money; he wants prestige. So, we gave him exactly what he wanted. We leaked a carefully staged, ‘top-secret’ paparazzi photo to the press this morning. The official narrative? The newly crowned King of Asgard has secretly retired from his bachelor days and eloped with a fierce, mysterious warrior woman.”

Your breath hitched violently in your throat. The coffee in your mug suddenly felt like acid.

“What?” you whispered, your heart stopping. You were an Avenger; you were known to the world, but you operated mostly in the quiet, precise darkness. To be thrust into the center of attention like this was your worst nightmare.

Thor froze, his hand stopping mid-air as he went to scratch his short blonde beard. His blue eyes went incredibly wide as he stared at the holographic invitation. “Stark—what madness are you speaking of?”

“It’s simple, lovebirds,” Natasha said, her voice laced with an infuriatingly calm amusement. “Moretti swallowed the bait hook, line, and sinker. The moment he saw the news that the King Of Asgard was on a secret honeymoon, he personally sent out an exclusive, all-access VIP invitation to the royal couple. You two are the ultimate distraction.”

Steve looked at the two of you, his expression sympathetic but unyielding. “Thor keeps all eyes on him by playing the loud, boastful, larger-than-life husband, giving you the perfect cover to move through the high-society crowds, slip into the shadows, and quietly dismantle the failsafe without triggering the biometric alarms. You need his status to get through the front door, and he needs your precision to make sure the island doesn't explode.”

“You expect me,” you said slowly, your voice dropping into a lethal, dangerous sound as you pointed a finger across the table, “to pretend to be blissfully, passionately in love with him? For how long exactly?”

“Not a soul here but you said passionately—“ Thor grumbled but was cut off by you, “Shut up, will you?”

Thor’s hands twitched, like he was holding himself from doing something irrational. He sighed a long breath, trying to compose himself, he didn’t think he could do this. Why did it have to be you, of all people?

But your skills in being a ghost were too good—too fucking perfect for your own good. So he knew the reason why it had to be you, but he protested anyway, he turned to Steve, “I do not see why she should be the one coming with me—“

You didn’t let him finish, rolling your eyes as you said “I’m not loving the idea either—“

“Depends on you, really. Could just be two days or a whole week.“ Steve said cutting both of you off as he looked at the both of you, clearly distressed at your brewing argument, again. “An entire week?” you said, your voice dripping with irritation, your jaw locking at the mere thought of it.

“Hey, it’s a tough gig, but someone’s gotta do it,” Tony chuckled, completely ignoring the murderous look you were throwing him across the table. “Congratulations, kids. Pack your bags. You’re going on a honeymoon.”

—

You were huffing and puffing as you aggressively packed your suitcases—yes, suitcases, plural.

You were practically tearing through your wardrobe, shoving in dresses, hats, sunglasses, and anything else you could get your hands on, entirely leaving the burden of actually coordinating an outfit for later. The second you had escaped the briefing room, you had fled to your quarters. The news was still pouring over you like boiling water, making your skin burn with a restless, defensive heat just thinking about it.

How the hell were you going to pretend to be his wife?

The only thing you were biologically capable of doing near that man was yelling at him, throwing files at his head, or arguing until you were blue in the face. He got on your nerves every single second of the day, provoking you with that smug arrogance of his, making you want to literally peel your own skin off your bones just to escape his proximity. And now you were supposed to look into his blue eyes and play the part of a blushing, smitten bride on a Mediterranean honeymoon. It was sick. It was a comedy of errors written by a cruel universe.

As you slammed another folded gown into the suitcase, your movements suddenly slowed. Your eyes caught sight of the faint, jagged scars marring the skin over your forearms and stomach.

A sudden, heavy wave of insecurity bubbled up inside your chest, overtaking the rage. The thought of being forced into revealing resort wear—of being paraded around an island full of hyper-critical, judgmental billionaires who you knew would dissect your every flaw—infiltrated your mind.

Usually, you were secure in your own skin. You were an Avenger, for God's sake. You were a lethal weapon, and honestly, you did wear dresses when the occasion called for it. But in this context? Under the blinding, global spotlight? You felt like a fraud. You felt like every single pair of eyes on that island would be glued to you, the judgmental, elitist sneers of high society cutting right through you simply because you were Thor’s goddamn wife. You were the woman who had supposedly tamed the King of Asgard, and they would be looking for any reason to tear you apart.

The scars were a permanent, physical gift from your torturers. The monsters who had turned you immortal years ago.

You could not die of age. You could not fall succumb to diseases. Even lethal wounds healed seamlessly within hours if properly attended to. You were stuck living like this forever, the terrifying nightmares from those months in the lab still playing in your mind night after night, making your throat go completely sore as you woke up screaming for them to stop. The experiments had broken your human limitations, locking your cellular structure in a permanent, un-aging loop.

You sharply rubbed at your eyes with the palms of your hands, trying to force the horrific memories to flee from your mind. The ghosts of your past loved to haunt you wherever you went, but you couldn't afford a breakdown today. Not with a flight to catch.

Letting out a heavy, defeated sigh, you declared yourself done with the chaotic packing. You bit your lip anxiously as you got ready for the travel day, pulling a simple, breezy white summer dress over your frame. The fabric flared gently around your knees, and you slid your feet into a pair of modest kitten heels. Finally, you pulled a soft white cardigan over your shoulders, fastening a few buttons, strictly wanting to ensure you wouldn't freeze before you reached your destination. You took one last look in the mirror, masking the assassin, masking the scars, and preparing to face your fate.

As you opened the door, struggling to maneuver your suitcases out of the room, you immediately heard his voice booming down the corridor.

“How are you going to carry those by yourself?” Thor asked, leaning against the wall with a wicked, entirely too handsome smile plastered across his face.

He was obviously going to help you. If the King of Asgard was anything, he was a gentleman down to his very bones—but he didn't just want to be helpful. He wanted to hear the words come out of your mouth. He wanted you to look him in the eye and actively admit that you needed his help. He knew you would absolutely hate doing it, which only made him crave it more.

“I can handle myself just fine,” you breathed out defensively. You leaned your weight back, using the rolling wheels of the suitcases to your advantage. Your pride was still firmly intact because you could easily drag them behind you on a flat surface, but you knew deep down that you couldn't physically lift both of these giant, overpacked cases at the same time down a flight of stairs. But he most definitely did not need to know that.

“Oh? So you don’t need any assistance at all?” he remarked smoothly. He was casually carrying his own massive tactical suitcase in one hand by the handle, his arm barely flexing. It was probably like holding a mosquito between his fingers for him.

“No. Especially not from you,” you huffed, your heels clicking sharply against the tile as you tried to wheel past him, clearly getting irritated by his mere existence.

“Hm,” he just mumbled, a deeply amused sound vibrating in his throat as he turned and watched you walk over to the elevator banks.

You aggressively pressed the down button, silently begging the universe for the doors to open as fast as humanly possible. You could feel Thor’s massive presence looming right behind you, practically radiating an eager energy, just waiting for another opportunity to prod at you.

“What are you waiting for?” you asked, your voice incredibly tight from pure annoyance.

He chuckled, the sound low and rumbling. “For the elevator, Little Flame. Same as you.”

You could feel his massive, broad frame standing directly behind your back. Even though there were a few inches of space separating you, he was like a literal furnace, a heavy, intoxicating heat radiating off his body and wrapping around your shoulders.

You rolled your eyes at the ceiling. “You can carry your own suitcase. I don't see why—” You abruptly cut yourself off, closing your eyes tightly, your face scrunching up in disdain.

Fuck. You had just walked right into his trap.

“Oh, so you cannot carry yours?” he prodded instantly, his tone dripping with sheer amusement. Your eyes opened back up immediately.

Where was this fucking elevator?!

Realizing the lift was taking too long, you sharply turned around to face him. Your bruised, stubborn ego completely hijacked your brain, making you snap at him before you could stop yourself. “I very much can!”

Thor looked down at you, his blue eyes sparkling with a level of amusement that was bordering on infuriating. “Oh, please, be my guest, will you?” He dramatically extended his free hand, gesturing toward the grand concrete staircase at the end of the hall. You huffed a sharp breath through your nose, your jaw locking. “Fine.”

You spun on your heels, deliberately dragging your heavy suitcases over to the very edge of the stairs, desperately delaying the exact moment you would actually have to lift them. When you finally reached the top step, you stopped and stared down at the luggage, your brain going into overdrive as you calculated the weight distribution.

Thor followed you, enjoying every single second of this entirely too much. Even his stance—weight shifted to one hip, a smirk playing on his lips—radiated absolute satisfaction.

“Struggling there?” he asked, taking a deliberate step closer to you.

“Not at all,” you lied through your teeth. Your eyes narrowed into lethal slits as you stared at him, and out of pure, stubborn stupidity, you grabbed the handles of both massive suitcases.

Bracing yourself in your goddamn kitten heels, you attempted to lift them both off the ground at the exact same time.

But the second your muscles tensed and you yanked them up, the combined, brutal weight of the luggage completely threw off your center of gravity. Your body violently swung forward toward the edge of the stairs, the momentum dragging you directly downward. A sharp, terrified yelp tore from your throat as your foot slipped on the smooth edge. You closed your eyes, waiting for the inevitable impact.

You were definitely going down. You were going to roll down a flight of concrete stairs in a white summer dress, become the laughing stock of the entire Avengers Compound, and probably severely injure yourself—meaning you'd have to hobble around the island waiting for your powers to slowly knit your bones back together. Amazing. Brilliant execution, babe, bravo.

But just as those thoughts raced through your mind, they disappeared entirely.

A massive, incredibly solid arm suddenly wrapped like an iron band around your waist. With one effortless, powerful pull, he caught your entire body weight, dragging you firmly back from the edge of the abyss and slamming your back flush against his broad, solid chest.

You opened your eyes—which you hadn't even realized you'd squeezed shut—and let out a shaky, breathless sigh of pure relief. Your heart was hammering like a drum against your ribs.

“Perhaps now, you will admit that you need me to carry them for you,” he mumbled. His voice was a gravelly rasp right against the back of your ear, his warm breath fanning across your skin and causing a shiver of goosebumps to erupt down your neck and arms.

Your breath caught. You quickly huffed, using your hands to pry his heavy arm away from your waist. The skin beneath your dress was practically burning from his touch, but you absolutely did not have the mental capacity to dwell on that right now.

You turned around to face him, your cheeks flushed, your expression a mixture of distress and absolute fury that you had just proven him entirely right.

“Fine,” you said, your voice tight and defeated.

Thor didn't move an inch out of your personal space. He looked down at you, his eyes slowly tracing over your flushed face and your white dress, a smug, triumphant look in his gaze.

“Fine, what?” he challenged softly, wanting every single syllable of his victory.

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, your pride fiercely battling against the cold reality of the situation. You darted a desperate look toward the elevator, but the glowing digital screen indicated it was still stuck on a lower floor. Frustrated and completely cornered, you aggressively slammed your right foot down against the tile floor like a spoiled child. He always brought that irritating, uncharacteristic side out of you.

“Okay,” you snapped, completely averting your gaze from his face as you mumbled, “Ineedyoutocarrymyluggageforme.”

The words tumbled out of your mouth in a single, rushed, completely unintelligible breath, your eyes locked onto the center of his chest.

“What?” Thor chuckled again, the hilarious sight of you stomping your foot and speaking at supersonic speed catching him entirely off guard. A deep, rumble of laughter shook his chest. “I did not quite get that, Little Flame. Can you say it again?” He was enjoying this far too much for his own good, the smug triumph radiating off him in waves.

“I need you to carry my luggage for me,” you enunciated sharply, every word dripping with pure annoyance.

Instead of just taking the win, Thor brought a thick finger to his chin, tapping it as if he were lost in deep thought. He scrunched up his handsome face, tilting his head. “I don’t think that was a really nice way of asking someone to carry your ginormous suitcases for you.”

“Ugh!” You let out a loud, frustrated yell, throwing your hands down to your sides as you forced yourself to look him dead in his sparkling blue eyes. “Will you please carry my luggage for me?”

He smiled triumphantly, his entire face lighting up like a kid on Christmas morning. He finally stepped forward and grabbed your two bags, arranging them in perfect order back-to-back so their elongated handles lined up close together. Then, with a single, massive hand, he closed his fingers over both handles at once. With his own tactical suitcase in his other hand, he effortlessly lifted all three massive bags off the floor without a single hint of strain.

The elevator suddenly dinged, the doors sliding open just as he hoisted the luggage into the air. Ordinarily, you would have completely lost your temper at timing like that. You would have cursed the universe out loud for making you beg for help only for the elevator to arrive a second later.

But the words died in your throat.

The sight of him carrying all three heavy suitcases at once made you breathe in a sharp, sudden gasp. Your pulse skipped a beat in your chest, and your eyes involuntarily roamed all over his frame. He had changed out of his grey t-shirt before coming to your door; he was now wearing a tight black t-shirt that hugged the broad expanse of his chest and shoulders, paired with tailored charcoal linen pants and black loafers.

He looked good. So fucking hot, in fact, that it sent an unexpected, electric tingle shooting straight through your core and settling deep in your stomach. The sight of his veins popping and his massive biceps bulging as he easily carried the weight of your entire life in one hand was—

What the fuck? What the hell was wrong with you?

You were fully aware that the King of Asgard possessed heart-stoppingly good looks—the entire planet was aware of it—but his infuriating behaviour toward you usually stopped you from ever enjoying the sight. You were supposed to dislike him. You were rivals. But what the fuck had just happened to your brain?

You sharply cleared your throat, forcefully tearing your eyes away from his arms as your cheeks burned a bright, furious crimson. Desperate to hide your sudden fluster, you quickly turned and marched past him, going down the staird in a fastened pace.

Thor smoothly followed behind you, his loafers making zero noise on the concrete, while your heels clicked loudly and rapidly down the steps, echoing your erratic, racing heartbeat.

Thor was watching you walk down the stairs before him, still visibly fuming that he had managed to break your stubborn streak and force a please out of your mouth. He was utterly relishing the victory, a brilliant, smug smile that practically screamed he had won etched across his handsome features while he effortlessly balanced your massive luggage in his grip.

But his smugness didn't last long.

You huffed, stopping for a brief second on the landing. With a fluid, deliberate motion, you slid your white cardigan off your shoulders, pooling the fabric into one hand. The sudden movement exposed the sharp, elegant lines of your collarbones in the strapless white dress. You flipped your hair to one side, completely baring the smooth expanse of your neck to the air—and to him. Then, as if you couldn't quite decide what kind of sensory torture you wanted to execute on the King of Asgard, you started heading down the remaining stairs, your hips swaying with a natural, intoxicating rhythm.

Thor took a sudden, sharp breath at the sight before him. His blue eyes went wide, running over your frame, completely unable to decide where to look. His gaze got hopelessly caught on the soft curve of your shoulders, the narrow dip of your waist, the hypnotic roll of your hips.

A hot rush of blood surged to his head. His breath caught violently in his chest, and for the first time in his immortal life, the God of Thunder actually stumbled on a concrete step. His black loafer clipped the edge, his chest heaving as he quickly caught himself.

What the actual hell was happening? He was well aware that you were breathtaking; he had seen the way people’s heads turned whenever you walked into a room without you even trying. But this? This reaction was entirely uncalled for. He disliked you. He disliked your sharp tongue and the way you always had a quip ready to jab at him. He shouldn't be admiring you, yet his heart was currently hammering against his ribs like a war drum.

Hearing his sudden, heavy stumble, you paused and turned your head back to see what was wrong. You found him standing a few steps above you, his jaw slightly slack. A wicked smile slowly bloomed across your face.

“What was that, Your Majesty? Are they too much for you to carry?” you taunted, shifting your body so your chest was fully turned toward him.

Thor’s eyes helplessly drifted downward to your now fully visible chest, his breath catching for a second time that day. The flush on his neck deepened. He aggressively cleared his throat, forcing his eyes up to meet your smirking face.

“Hah! I can move literal mountains, Little Flame. These trinkets are nothing to me,” he mumbled defensively, his voice a bit more rushed than usual. “I simply lost my balance is all.”

Desperate to escape your mocking gaze, he practically ran down the remaining stairs, his loafers squeaking slightly against the polished concrete as he hurried into the main lobby with all three suitcases clutched tightly in his hands.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you watched him go, continuing your descent. The discarded cardigan remained clutched in your hand; you felt entirely too hot, your own racing thoughts making your skin flush. You gulped, trying to aggressively shoo the bizarre tension out of your mind. You hated him. You needed to get a grip.

When you finally reached the expansive glass entrance of the compound, Thor was already standing there, deep in a heated discussion with Tony.

“Why spend hours traveling in one of your metal birds when we can get there in seconds?” Thor was arguing, his brow furrowed in genuine, godly confusion.

Tony turned toward you as you approached, a wicked, entirely too amused smirk lighting up his face. “Ah, perfect timing, Shadow. Point Break here is staging a mutiny. He says you two don't need to board a plane or take a Quinjet.”

“How come?” you asked, your blood suddenly running cold. An ominous weight dropped into your stomach because you could already guess exactly what the god of thunder had in mind.

“Stormbreaker can take us across the world in seconds,” Thor said, turning his massive frame toward you, completely serious.

“But—” you started, your mind frantically grasping for any viable excuse to avoid being that physically close to him for a cosmic teleportation ride. “But how will you carry the luggage while we traverse realms? It’s impossible.”

“You just hold onto me, and I will handle the rest,” he said easily, dismissively, as if he were explaining the most simple, mundane task in the world. You swallowed hard, your heart doing a strange flip. “But Thor, you have to hold Stormbreaker in one hand, and the luggage in the other. What about me? Where am I supposed to go?”

Thor let out a sharp, irritated huff, clearly done with you dragging out the inevitable. “I said I will handle it. Now, let us go.”

He turned away, marching through the sliding glass doors into the bright morning air. He dropped his own suitcase onto the concrete pavement and extended his right hand toward the sky. Within a split second, a loud, crackling boom echoed through the compound as the massive, heavy blade of Stormbreaker flew from his room straight into his waiting palm.

With practiced, terrifying strength, he gathered the handles of all three massive suitcases into his other hand, hoisting them up effortlessly. He turned his head, his short blonde hair catching the sunlight, and motioned sharply with his chin for you to come closer.

You narrowed your eyes at him stubbornly, crossing your arms over your chest. “What if I don’t want to—” Before you could even finish your protest, Thor’s patience snapped. In one swift, blur of a movement, his massive hand shot out and grabbed you firmly by the wrist.

You let out a sharp yelp as he effortlessly yanked you forward into his personal space, his strength completely overriding your balance. He forcefully guided your arms around his thick middle, pulling you so close that your cheek was muffled right against the hard, solid muscle of his chest.

You could feel his heavy pectoral muscles instantly tighten at the sudden contact, a wave of intense, radiating heat washing over you. Before you could even open your mouth to yell at him for handling you so roughly, his deep, rumbling voice vibrated right through his chest wall against your ear. “Hold on tight.” And with a sudden, blinding flash of blue electricity, he raised Stormbreaker high into the sky.

A blinding burst of color erupted all around you as the Bifrost engulfed you both. The roaring force of the cosmic energy threatened to rip you away, and you instinctively closed your eyes tightly, holding yourself steady by gluing your body entirely to his. Your fingers dug firmly into the fabric of his shirt, pulling yourself so close that there wasn’t a single millimeter of space left between your chest and his.

Then, just as quickly as it had begun, the rushing roar vanished.

You felt your heels solidly touch the ground, arriving at your destination in a second. For a moment, your hands remained tightly locked around his middle and your face was still pressed right against the warm, hard muscle of his chest, you could hear his heartbeat thudding against his ribs.

Slowly, you forced your eyes open and pulled your face back, blinking against the sudden, brilliant glare of the Mediterranean sun.

The Sanctuary stretched out before you, you were standing on a private, pristine white-stone terrace that overlooked a sprawling, crescent-shaped bay. The water below was a blinding, translucent turquoise, so clear that you could see the dark, shifting shadows of coral reefs deep beneath the surface. Sleek, multi-million-dollar superyachts were anchored in the distance, polished and gleaming under the midday sun.

The resort itself was built directly into the towering, sun-bleached cliffs of the island. It was a marvel of modern, minimalist design blended with ancient luxury—all clean white concrete, floor-to-ceiling glass panels, and cascading infinity pools that seemed to spill directly into the ocean below. Lavish, vibrant pink bougainvillea and lush green palms draped over stone walkways, softening the sharp lines of the villas.

Your nostrills filled with the scent of saltwater, expensive citrus perfume, and blooming jasmine. In the distance, you could hear the faint, muted clinking of crystal glasses and the smooth, ambient lounge music drifting from an exclusive beachfront pavilion. It was entirely peaceful, completely hidden from the rest of the world, and crawling with some of the most dangerous, corrupt elite on the planet.

You let out a slow breath, your eyes immediately mapping out the security cameras hidden in the palm trees and the heavily armed guards dressed in casual, matching resort linen suits.

“You can let go of me now, Little Flame,” Thor’s deep voice murmured directly above you, a distinct trace of that familiar, smug amusement vibrating right against your hands. “Unless, of course, you are already enjoying the perks of marriage.”

You blinked, sharply pushing yourself away from his broad chest. “You wish,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes as you aggressively smoothed down the wrinkled fabric of your white summer dress. “I’m not exactly into lords, anyway. I prefer a much stronger title.”

“Good thing I am not a lord, then,” he replied smoothly. For the first time, he didn't get defensive or angry at the jab. Instead, he just stood there, smiling down at you with a gaze so wicked that you could practically feel the blood rushing straight to your head.

You internally groaned, chastising yourself. Stupid girl. You really should have thought beforehand that he would turn your own words right back on you like that. But before your scrambled brain could piece together a proper, biting retort, the heavy footsteps of the resort's security staff cut you off.

“Are you invited, sir?”

A burly bodyguard in a pristine, light-blue linen suit approached the two of you. His voice was laced with a deep, unmistakable tone of respect; he clearly recognized the King of Asgard, but he was trying to maintain the island's strict protocol.

“Yes,” you intervened seamlessly, sliding in front of Thor. Your training kicked in instantly, and a perfected, dazzling smile etched itself onto your face. You held up your phone, displaying the exclusive, gold-rimmed digital invitation Tony had intercepted.

The bodyguard scanned the screen, nodding, but his cautious gaze quickly drifted down to the massive, terrifying axe gripped firmly in Thor's left hand. “We... do not allow weapons on the resort grounds, sir. If you could leave it with security—”

“Ah, that is easily remedied,” Thor interrupted cheerfully. With a casual flick of his wrist, the massive, razor-sharp blade of Stormbreaker melted away, shrinking down until it transformed into a simple, polished black umbrella. You whipped your head around to look at the object, completely deadpan. “An umbrella? In this weather?” you muttered, gesturing to the cloudless, blazing mediterranean sky.

Thor’s eyebrows furrowed at you, his jaw tightening in annoyance at your public critique. “Well, there is something called a summer rain, sweetheart,” he said, faking an incredibly sweet, doting smile for the sake of the watchibg guard, though his blue eyes promised absolute murder.

“I don’t think it’s going to rain anytime soon, honey,” you shot back, your voice dripping with a deep, sickeningly fake sugary sweetness as your own plastic smile widened. Before you could take another breath, Thor’s massive arm suddenly shot out, wrapping securely around your waist and forcefully dragging you flush into his side for a tight, suffocating hug.

A sharp, undignified yelp tore from your throat at the sudden impact, but you quickly cleared your throat, masking your shock as you gripped his forearm. He was absolutely enjoying torturing you, using the doting husband act as the perfect excuse to handle you however he pleased. You were going to kill him.

“I can make it rain anytime I wish,” he murmured, his tone biting at you in a dangerous, playful whisper that sent an involuntary shiver down your spine. He flashed one last dazzling smile at the bewildered bodyguard. “Now, let us go to our room, yeah?”

After that, the guard politely led you both through the sweeping glass doors toward the main lobby, where a receptionist stood behind a white marble desk, a bright, welcoming smile on her face.

“Welcome to The Sanctuary. Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Odinson,” she said smoothly, but the moment the words left her mouth, you saw her cringe a bit, her eyes darting between the digital registry and your face as she thought the names over. You noticed the hesitation instantly, Odinson did sound incredibly weird when referring to a woman.

“Is that your last name now, madam? Should I call you that?” she genuinely asked, looking a bit flustered, as if she were desperately trying to avoid making a mistake.

A massive grin broke across your face while Thor’s expression instantly soured. Oh, you liked this receptionist already.

“I genuinely have no idea. It does sound completely off when you say it like that, doesn't it?” you said, leaning against the marble desk. Then, you slowly turned your head to look up at him, your eyes wide with mock innocence. “Honey, is my last name Odinson now? Wouldn't that literally just mean I’m a son of Odin? I mea—”

He cut you off instantly, his jaw clenching as he growled under his breath, clearly pissed. “Well, we are in Midgard, darling. So your last name is now Odinson here, no? It is how things are done on this realm.” He forced out a tight, blindingly fake smile, trying his absolute best not to throw off the receptionist standing inches away.

You smiled right back, utterly loving the fact that you had managed to piss him off so quickly. You turned back to the receptionist, giving her a conspiratorial look. “Or you could just call me by my former last na—”

“No.” Thor cut you off again, his deep voice dropping an octave, completely unyielding as his blue eyes threw literal daggers down at you. “She will be referred to as Mrs. Odinson.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, your smile faltering for a split second. That was a remarkably quick, fiercely defensive reaction from him. Why the hell did he care so much about a fake human registry?

Recovering quickly, you huffed out a light, airy fake laugh for the receptionist's benefit, gesturing toward the rigid King beside you. “He gets incredibly defensive in situations like this,” you told her. Then, leaning in slightly, you whispered in a stage-whisper, “Male ego, am I right?” The receptionist let out a quiet, knowing chuckle and nodded her head in absolute agreement, clearly understanding exactly what you meant.

“I will show you to your room then, Mrs. Odinson,” she said, stepping out from behind the marble desk and motioning toward a glass elevator that overlooked the turquoise bay, while waving over a bellboy to take the three giant suitcases from Thor's hands.

Thor let the bellboy take the suitcases, his hands finally free as he followed the two of you toward the glass lift. The receptionist held the elevator doors open, gesturing politely with an extended hand, and once you and Thor stepped inside, she followed, pressing the button for the upper residential levels.

The elevator began its smooth ascent. Thor looked around the glass enclosure, his massive arms folding tightly over his broad chest. The movement made his biceps bulge prominently against the fabric of his t-shirt, and your traitorous eyes immediately darted downward, following the sharp lines of his muscles before you could even stop yourself.

“I like this Midgardian facility,” Thor remarked, his deep voice echoing in the enclosed space as he looked out at the view. “It is quite nice.”

“Me too. Love the design, honestly.” you said smoothly, flashing a perfect, effortless hand gesture, but as your eyes finally flicked away from Thor’s arm, you caught something out of the corner of your eye. A sudden, entirely unknown feeling brewed in the pit of your stomach.

The receptionist was staring at Thor’s arms. And she wasn't just glancing; she was so goddamn focused, her eyes tracing the thick veins of his biceps, that she didn't even notice your lethal gaze cutting right through her.

You were definitely taking it back—you did not like this girl at all.

Before your brain could even process the irrational spike of possessiveness, you acted on pure instinct. You stepped right into his space, cleared your throat sharply, and forcefully reached up to uncross his arms.

“What are—” Thor started, entirely caught off guard by the unexpected intrusion.

He was completely silenced as you forcefully dragged his broad frame down into a tight side hug. Your arm slid securely over his back, anchoring him to you, and you felt his breath hitch violently at the sudden contact. He froze for a second, his chest heaving, before he cleared his throat and let his massive hand find the curve of your waist, pulling you securely against his hip.

You kept your eyes locked dead on the receptionist, claiming your territory with absolute, unyielding dominance. You flashed her a wicked, razor-sharp smile. The girl's cheeks instantly flushed crimson, and she averted her eyes toward the floor, clearly mortified that she had been caught staring at a married man, beside his wife at that.

The second the threat was neutralized, your actions crashed down on you. You had absolutely no idea what had just come over you, or why the fuck you would ever do something like that over Thor. Okay, you probably—definitely did that because the thought of another woman disrespecting you by looking at your husband made you want to commit murder. Correction, supposed husband. Still he was your fucking husband for now and she was looking at him and— It’s all about you really, all good. Nothing to worry about.

Your face burned with a furious heat as you forced your gaze straight ahead, refusing to look at him, but you could feel the immense weight of his blue eyes staring down at the side of your face—burning you, fucking scorching you with an intense, questioning gaze.

Thankfully, the elevator dinged, saving you from the embarrassment.

The doors slid open, and you caught your first breathtaking sight of the upper facility. It wasn't a standard, enclosed hotel corridor. Instead, the elevator opened directly into the brilliant, open air of the cliffside. It was designed like an exclusive luxury resort enclave; the elevator connected the lower main lobby directly to an expansive, sun-drenched outdoor terrace that led to the private villa section of the property.

Stone pathways winded through lush, manicured tropical gardens, flanked by cascading water features and private infinity pools that looked like they hung off the edge of the world. The ocean breeze hit your face instantly, lifting the hem of your white dress, but the burning weight of Thor’s hand still resting firmly on your waist made it impossible to feel the cold.

You followed the receptionist, her eyes now glued strictly forward as she walked, her posture stiff with the embarrassment of the whole situation.

You tried to subtly peel yourself away from Thor’s side, but the moment you moved, the heavy grip of his hand on your waist tightened significantly. Your eyes instinctively glanced upward to him, ready to snap, but he was simply looking around at the passing scenery, appearing completely unbothered by the situation. Why wouldn't he let go? You wondered why the hell he would keep you tethered to his side like this, as if he actively wanted you there.

Then, doing something you thought you would absolutely never do, you let him. You quietly surrendered, allowing him to hold you tight against his hip as you both walked down the sun-drenched stone path.

Other elite couples passed you by, their judgmental eyes scanning you up and down as they noted the stunning, mysterious woman on the arm of the Asgardian King. This is exactly why he is keeping you glued to him, a strict, grounding voice echoed in your mind. Do not forget the objective, or the fact that you both could never, ever like each other like that. You swallowed hard, your own hand involuntarily tightening around his side for a split second. Why the fuck would you even think otherwise?

The receptionist finally approached a secluded, breathtaking cliffside villa. She opened the heavy timber door for you, stepping aside to hand you the room keycards.

The moment you stepped across the threshold, your eyes widened at the sight before you. Your blood ran completely cold. You let go of his waist immediately, and this time he actually let you.

Your hands were slightly shaking as you looked around the massive, sunlit room. Why hadn't you thought of this earlier? Ofcourse. It was painfully obvious. You were pretending to be a married couple on a honeymoon, after all.

You looked beside you only to see Thor standing entirely frozen, his lips slightly agape and his breathing turning shallow and fast as you both simultaneously realized how profoundly fucked up this mission actually was.

There was only one fucking bed.

It was a massive, ultra-luxurious king-sized bed, draped in crisp white linens and pushed directly against the center of the room, facing the glass walls that looked out over the ocean. Thor couldn't believe his own stupidity; how could he have thought he wouldn't have to share a bed with you on a mission where you were supposed to be blissfully in love? This mission was officially going to be the absolute death of him.

He slowly turned his head to look down at you, only to find you already staring up at him with completely bewildered, panicked eyes.

“I hope you like your room. Have a wonderful stay, Mr. and Mrs. Odinson,” the receptionist said, her voice finally breaking the tense silence that had descended upon the room.

The sound of her talking jolted you both out of your shared panic. You didn't even look at her fully, only giving a stiff side-eye and a tight nod before she quickly scrambled out of the room, shutting the heavy door behind her.

The second the click of the lock echoed through the villa, you spun on your heels to face him. Your voice was sharp, defensive, and entirely determined as you pointed a finger at him. “I will sleep in the bed.”

His eyes narrowed at you instantly. “No, I will,” he counter-attacked, and with two long, authoritative strides, he walked over to the bed and sat down heavily on the mattress, trying to claim the territory by physical force. You scoffed loudly, refusing to back down. You marched right over to the edge of the bed and sat down forcefully beside him, turning your body to face him dead-on. “I will,” you repeated stubbornly, your jaw locking.

Thor snorted, a challenge dancing in his blue eyes. “Okay, then. You will simply be sleeping next to me.”

Your eyes widened in sudden panic as you huffed out a sharp breath. “What?” you said, utterly bewildered by the casualness of his suggestion.

He rolled his eyes, gesturing broadly to the sprawling mattress behind him. “This is a massive bed, love. We both can fit, clearly.”

The moment the casual pet name slipped from his tongue, Thor internally bit down on it, desperately trying to maintain his stoic composure. What the fuck is my problem? he wondered, a silent storm raging in his mind as he stared at your flushed face. There was no one here to perform for. The door was locked. Yet his brain was completely short-circuiting.

Your breath hitched in your throat. Why the hell would he call you that when there wasn't a single soul around to witness it? You swallowed hard, trying to inject some of your usual venom back into your voice to hide your racing pulse. “You are ginormous, Thor. You would probably just roll over in the middle of the night and crush me to death or something—”

“I would never,” he said softly, cutting you off. He looked directly at you, his gaze suddenly changing into an intensity so deeply serious, that it made your heart give a treacherous flutter against your ribs.

You gulped, your mind going entirely blank. You tried to grasp for another excuse, another biting retort, but the gravity of his presence was making you forget everything else besides him.

Thor’s eyes roamed all over your face, desperately trying to dissect whatever panicked thoughts were racing through your mind. But as his gaze drifted downward, your bare arms caught his eye.

His breath hitched violently. His eyebrows furrowed into a deep, troubled line as his vision focused entirely on your skin.

How the hell had he never noticed them before?

Faint, jagged scars were littered all over your arms, disrupting your otherwise flawless skin. They were the unmistakable, ghostly remnants of... what? How could you have possibly acquired them? He knew you possessed an advanced healing factor—he had seen you bounce back from lethal battle wounds within hours—so if these marks remained, the trauma that caused them must have been unfathomable. It must have happened before you ever gained your abilities. But how did you even get your powers?

Thor realized, with a jarring pang in his chest, that he knew absolutely nothing about your history. He knew nothing of what had happened to you, where you had come from, or how you had earned those marks. A dark, protective rage began to brew in his chest, his breathing turning ragged as he stared at the faint lines.

You noticed the exact second his eyes shifted. A cold, suffocating dread pooled in your stomach.

Nobody outside of Tony, Steve, Natasha, and Bucky knew what had happened to you. Tony and Steve knew because they were the ones who had found you, breaking into that dark Hydra facility to save your life. Natasha knew because she was your absolute closest friend, the person who held you through the worst of the night terrors. Bucky knew only because you had trusted him with the truth, knowing he was the only one who truly understood the agony of being a broken, unwilling assassin.

But Thor? Thor hadn't been there when you were saved. He had been worlds away, dealing with the high-stakes matters of Asgard. And you, of course, had never told him. How could you? When he had finally returned to Earth and met you for the very first time, he had simply looked at you deadpan and muttered, “She looks gloomy.”

The comment had broken you. Before he had ever spoken to you, you had thought him absolutely extraordinary. The exact second you had caught sight of his legendary, powerful frame, an intense, quiet attraction had sparked inside you. But he had broken all of that in a single second by calling you gloomy, bruising your defensive ego and forcing you to react in the absolute worst way possible—yelling at him and starting a years-long war of petty arguments. He was the only person on the team who could ever get you to react with such unhinged irritation.

Now, your heart dropped straight to your stomach at the horrifying thought of him having another piece of leverage over you. He could never know the truth. You couldn't let him see your vulnerability.

As you watched his eyes frantically trace the lines on your skin, his massive left hand slowly ascended, his fingers instinctively reaching out to gently touch your arm.

The impending contact made you take a sharp, terrified breath. Your fight-or-flight response slammed into overdrive, and you abruptly stammered out a quick, “I have to pee!” Before he could even respond, you bolted off the mattress, practically running toward the privacy of the bathroom.

You rubbed your face as you gulped, staring at your reflection in the mirror.

I have to pee? Seriously? You couldn’t have found anything better to say?

The faster we are done with this, the better, you thought to yourself, anxiously pacing around the marble bathroom. Steve had said the mission could take anywhere from two days to an entire week. You were strictly determined to wrap this up in two days max—because if you didn't, so help you God, you were going to go completely insane.

You splashed ice-cold water on your face, breathing out a long, shaky exhale. You could do this. You could endure this. This was absolutely nothing compared to the horrors you had survived in your past, but for some reason, why did it feel like this was even worse?

Steeling your nerves, you finally walked out of the bathroom, only to see Thor standing outside on the terrace, his massive back turned to you. Your eyes involuntarily roamed over his broad figure, and you breathed out a long breath to calm your racing heart.

He heard you step into the room—of course he did. He turned back toward you, locking his blue eyes onto your face as he made his way back inside. “I like it here,” he mumbled, looking around the room before his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Where are our things? That servant took—”

Your eyebrows shot up instantly. “Servant?”

“Yes. The one who took our bags.”

You let out an involuntary, nervous giggle as you sat back down on the edge of the bed, rolling your eyes. “Thor, he’s not a servant. He’s a bellboy.” His brow furrowed even deeper. “Bellboy?”

“Yes. People who carry luggage to the rooms in hotels are called bellboys.”

“So... they are servants?” he repeated stubbornly. You huffed, deeply annoyed by his royal dense-headedness. “Thor, do not call anyone a servant to their face. It’s incredibly belittling and—” Right as the lecture was leaving your mouth, a sharp knock echoed from the front door.

“Ah! The servant is here,” Thor declared triumphantly, immediately striding toward the entryway to open it.

“Thor, no—” you gasped, scrambling up from the bed. You were desperately trying to intercept him, wanting to avoid a catastrophic conversation where he would inevitably embarrass the poor resort worker.

But Thor was too fast. He swung the door open and casually leaned his massive shoulder against the wall, watching the bellboy roll your three giant suitcases into the villa’s foyer. However, instead of ignoring you, Thor’s blue eyes were suddenly gleaming with pure mischief as he looked across the room at your panicked face.

Your eyes narrowed into lethal slits. You fiercely mouthed a very deliberate, aggressive 'No' to him.

But seeing your panic only made his smug smile widen. The exact second he opened his annoying, beautiful mouth to speak, your instincts slammed into overdrive. Your brain completely short-circuited. You scrambled over to him in a blind, chaotic rush. Before he could utter a single syllable, you threw yourself into his personal space, your arms wrapping securely around his thick neck as you hopped completely on top of him, forcefully pressing his face right into the crook of your neck to physically muffle his mouth against your skin.

Thor froze dead in his tracks. The sudden impact of your body would have knocked any human man flat on his back, but he didn't even sway. His breath hitched sharply, and his massive hands instinctively shot down, grabbing the back of your thighs to hold you up without breaking a single sweat.

The bellboy’s eyes went completely wide at the unexpected, intensely passionate display.

Your face burned a scorching, furious red as you awkwardly tilted your head back, your arms still locked around Thor's neck. “Just... love my husband so much, you know? Can’t help myself,” you breathed out, your voice strained as you forced a bright, desperately in love smile.

The bellboy nodded quickly, his eyes still dinner-plate wide as he awkwardly parked the luggage.

Thor’s head had been pinned right against your neck, but he suddenly lifted his head up forcefully, his godlike strength easily overriding your desperate attempt to hold him still.

“Cannot keep her hands to herself, this one,” Thor told the bellboy, a deep, rumbling chuckle vibrating through his chest. He was smiling brightly, clearly enjoying every single second of this absolute ordeal.

You literally could not believe you had just done that. You were just trying to spare the poor worker’s feelings, and—okay, fine, you absolutely did not need to jump on top of him like a koala. But in that split second of panic, your brain had completely ruled out kissing him as an option—obviously, because why were you even thinking of it in the first place?—, leaving you with no choice but to launch yourself at him to take him off guard.

The mortified bellboy practically scrambled out of the villa, quickly wishing you both a good day before slamming the door shut.

You let out a massive sigh of relief, your forehead dropping against Thor's shoulder. You hadn't even been able to give the poor guy a tip. You shook your head in deep disapproval, your gaze finally snapping back up to look at Thor.

And that’s when your brain finally caught up to the reality of your physical situation.

The room was dead silent. Thor was staring down at you with an incredibly intense, dark, and unreadable gaze. He was still holding you entirely aloft in his arms. Your legs were circled tightly around his broad waist, his heavy hands were gripping the bare skin under your thighs, and your goddamn summer dress had completely ridden up your legs. The direct, calloused touch of his palms against your skin was burning you like liquid fire.

Your breathing suddenly grew shallow and fast. Oh god. You needed to get off of him right now.

You swallowed hard, subtly shifting your weight to slide down, but his grip remained like iron bands. You couldn't move.

“You can let go now, you know?” you whispered, your voice lacking its usual bite as you stared into his intense blue eyes.

Thor aggressively cleared his throat, looking momentarily startled by how close your lips were to his. But within a fraction of a second, that goddamn smug, teasing smile started slow-burning across his face. You knew that exact expression, and it never meant anything good for your sanity.

“Why?” he murmured, his voice dropping into a low, rumbling rasp that sent a wave of heat straight to your core. “You willingly hopped into my arms, Little Flame. I might as well enjoy the embrace.”

You gasped in absolute outrage, sharply slapping his broad chest with your palm as you desperately tried to wrench yourself out of his grip. He was being annoying, cruel, and completely, fucking insufferable.

“Just let go of me, you pervert!” you snapped, your right hand desperately attempting to peel his iron grip off your bare leg.

He finally let go of you with a low, rumbling chuckle, clearly enjoying annoying you far too much for his own good. “Pervert? I am not the one who jumped blindly into your arms, Little Flame.”

You flushed a furious crimson, sharply turning your back to him to hide the heat on your face. “Let's just fucking get ready and try to find some info on our objective,” you muttered tightly. You grabbed one of your massive suitcases, plopping it down onto the luggage rack with a heavy thud, and unzipped it. Behind you, his quiet, amused chuckles continued to bounce off the walls, making your blood boil with pure anger, but you forced your mouth shut.

You aggressively rummaged through your clothes, grabbing a white, high-cut skimpy monokini and a breezy dress to wear over it. Clucthing the fabric to your chest, you marched straight back into the bathroom to get ready.

You locked the door, taking a few ragged breaths to settle your racing pulse. You fixed your hair, and carefully slipped into the monokini and the dress. Standing in front of the mirror, you let out a long exhale, though your face was still burning with a deep, stubborn embarrassment. You could do this. It was just a mission.

You emerged from the bathroom, deliberately looking anywhere but at Thor as he smoothly stepped past you to go get changed himself. You walked over to the vanity, but a few moments later, his booming, deeply confused voice echoed from the other side of the door.

“This just looks like underwear.”

The bathroom door swung open, and Thor walked out, looking down at himself with a bewildered expression. The second your eyes landed on him, you literally choked on your own spit.

He was wearing a pair of simple navy swimming trunks—and absolutely nothing else. No shirt, no linen button-down, nothing to cover the massive expanse of his upper body.

Your eyes involuntarily danced over his frame, your mouth falling slightly agape as you took him in. The midday sun streaming through the glass walls caught every single ridge of his body. Your gaze traced the thick, prominent veins running over his forearms and bulging biceps, moving up to the broad, heavy expanse of his chest, and dropping down to his rock-hard, perfectly sculpted abs.

Oh, fuck. You felt a sharp, electric flutter ignite deep down in your stomach.

“We Asgardians just go into the waters naked to swim, you know,” he stated proudly, adjusting the waistband of the trunks. “This Earth clothing feels ridiculous.”

He was probably referring to times back home when he did exactly that—swimming freely in royal Asgardian lakes, likely with beautiful women. But the sudden, intrusive mental image of going swimming with a completely naked Thor made you gulp harshly, your eyes widening in panic.

And that was the exact moment he caught the state of your face.

Thor froze. His breath hitched in his throat as his blue eyes locked onto you. Your beautiful eyes had darkened with an intense, raw heat, your gaze completely fixed on his bare chest while your sinful lips remained slightly parted. As he watched, your tongue subtly darted out to lick your lower lip, your breathing turning shallow.

The God of Thunder felt his entire frame go completely rigid in the middle of the room.

You were not thinking what he thought you were... were you? For the first time, a heavy, pounding tension that had nothing to do with anger or bickering flooded the air around you. Thor felt his heart skip a beat against his ribs at the terrifying, intoxicating thought of you actually looking at him like that, willing him to step closer.

You closed your eyes then, and the sudden, intrusive thought of him being completely naked with other women infiltrated your mind. It filled you with a strange, unexplainable feeling—a sharp, poisonous ache that you had felt before in your life but couldn't quite put your finger on. Your stomach actively churned at the mental image, a dark wave of possessiveness and frustration twisting tight inside your core mkaing you open your eyes back.

The lung-burning silence broke when you abruptly gulped, tearing your gaze away from his abdomen as your cheeks flared a bright, defensive red.

“Put a shirt on, will you?” you muttered breathlessly.

Without waiting for a response, you spun on your heel and practically bolted out onto the sun-drenched balcony, desperately needing the breeze to help you catch your breath before you completely lost your mind.

Inside, Thor’s eyebrows furrowed deeply. He stood entirely frozen in the center of the room, his heart dropping straight to his stomach at the words you had just thrown at him.

Of course.

Why the hell would he ever think you wanted him? What was he thinking? You obviously were not attracted to him in the slightest. In fact, it was the exact opposite—you clearly disliked him so much that you couldn't even bear to see a glimpse of his bare upper body, which was why you had breathlessly demanded he cover himself up.

Thor let out a low, frustrated groan, bringing his massive hands up to aggressively palm his face. Why did he even care so much? Why did your rejection sting like needles on his skin?

Steeling his posture, he marched back over to his suitcase, snatched up a matching navy t-shirt, and harshly yanked it down over his head, hiding his chest from view. He desperately needed a fucking drink. He was entirely certain there wasn’t a single alcoholic beverage on this entire planet that could properly numb his brain right now. Not even heavy Asgardian ale could get him drunk enough at this point. He actually was fucking sure there wasn't a single drink in the entire universe that could make him drunk enough to forget about you, your angelic face, these unexplainable feelings, and the damning fact that you absolutely hated him.

“Let’s go,” his deep voice boomed behind you.

Startled out of your thoughts on the balcony, you turned around and walked back inside the air-conditioned room. You quietly followed him as he strode over to the heavy front door, swinging it open and standing firmly in the entryway as he waited for you to walk past.

You went out, your wedge sandals clicking softly on the stone path as you took a deep breath of the humid air, trying to reset your frayed nerves. As you made your way down toward the main infinity pool with Thor by your side, you suddenly felt a firm, sudden tug on your hand.

Because you had left the villa first, you had been walking a few paces ahead of him, but with one effortless pull, he brought you right back next to his side. His massive palm slid against yours, his fingers wrapping around your hand and engulfing it completely.

Your pulse gave a wild, treacherous flutter. Your eyes filled with immediate, defensive questions as you snapped your head up to look at him. Your hand felt like it was on fire, your skin practically melting under the direct heat of his touch. But before you could snap at him, Thor simply gestured with a subtle tilt of his chin toward a few couples who were walking past, watching you closely.

Right. Real couples walked hand-in-hand. You were supposed to be blissfully married, so this was completely ordinary. You forced yourself to nod, your fingers slowly sliding into his, intertwining with his firmly to sell the act.

Before heading over to the pool deck, you stopped by the wooden towel stand. You grabbed two plush beach towels, offering a polite, dazzling smile and a quiet thank you to the young worker who handed them over. As you began walking toward two vacant, prime sunbeds you had spotted near the edge of the water, Thor leaned down significantly to get right on your level.

His warm breath brushed against your ear as he whispered, “Lots of servants here.”

You immediately looked up at him, your eyes boring holes into his face. “Thor, they are resort employees. Stop it,” you hissed under your breath.

A smug, infuriating smile broke across his face. He was clearly enjoying the easy way he could piss you off. Still, his hand didn't release yours; his fingers remained tightly engulfed around your hand as you finally settled right next to the vacant sunbeds.

He finally let go of your hand, though his blue eyes remained highly alert, scanning the perimeter. He took in the entire scene—the crowded pool bar, the glittering water, and the exclusive guests. Upbeat lounge music pulsed quietly from the hidden outdoor speakers as his gaze tracked the crowd.

His eyes locked onto a specific target sitting near the bar: a man with a distinct scar slicing through his left eyebrow, short black hair, and deeply bronzed skin. The stool next to the man was vacant, and he was casually sipping on a dark amber liquor—what Thor recognized as whiskey, a Midgardian drink he had tried during his time with the Avengers.

Thor turned his head back to tell you he had spotted their mark, but the words got caught in his throat.

You had already slid your dress off, leaving it pooled on the side of the chair. You were now sitting down comfortably on the sunbed, your bare legs stretched out in front of you.

The sight of your exposed skin and the incredibly skimpy, high-cut beachwear made a sudden rush of blood boil furiously through Thor's veins. His gaze darkened instantly, his eyes helplessly mapping the smooth expanse of your collarbones, your chest, and your fucking perfect legs. Oh, fuck. He literally couldn't breathe. The air vanished from his lungs, and he averted his eyes toward the sea, his heart hammering so wildly against his ribs he thought it might actually beat its way straight out of his chest.

Desperate to cool down, he aggressively cleared his throat and grabbed the hem of his t-shirt, yanking it off his body.

Your eyes remained glued strictly ahead of you, stubbornly refusing to spare him a single glance. You heard the rustle of fabric and the distinct sound of him tossing the shirt onto the table, but you refused to face him. You unfortunately felt far too many weird, dangerous things flipping in your stomach whenever you looked at his bare chest, and you weren't about to risk your sanity now. Fuck this entire operation, really, you thought bitterly.

You heard the sunbed creak as his massive weight sat down on the lounge chair right next to yours. Your positions were exactly identical, your legs laid out parallel to each other on the matching cushions. You were close—entirely too close.

Needing to ground yourself and focus on the mission, you leaned over toward him, lowering your voice to a sharp, determined whisper. “We either finish this in two days or an entire week. Let’s get this over with quickly, so that I do not have to be your wife for another—” But you had made the catastrophic mistake of turning your head to look at him while you whispered. The words died completely in your throat, and the remaining oxygen was brutally taken right out of your lungs.

Thor had laid back against the cushion, his massive, bare arms raised up next to his head to support the back of his neck. The position made his biceps and shoulders bulge spectacularly under the sunlight, the lines of his chest stretching taut.

“...second,” you trailed off breathlessly, your voice dropping to a faint whisper as you quickly snapped your head back to stare blindly at the water in front of you.

“I agree,” Thor said simply, his deep voice carrying a gravelly, tight edge as he stared straight ahead, too. “This whole ordeal is ridiculous, I’ll tell you that. There is absolutely no need to drag it out.”

You laid perfectly still on the sunbed, the intense heat baking your skin, but it was nothing compared to the suffocating tension radiating from the man lying right next to you.

What’s happening to me? you wondered frantically in your mind, trying to ground yourself as you looked around the bustling pool area. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the man with the scarred eyebrow, and a cold jolt of recognition hit you. He looked familiar because he was your target. Valentin Moretti, the spoiled, arrogant playboy of the family who handled the high-society entertainment and smuggling logistics at the resort. He was the only middleman who held the digital decryption keys to the Dark Elf tech you and Thor were trying to locate.

And right now, he was staring right at you.

The second his eyes hit you, his posture shifted. His dark eyes narrowed, deliberately burning their way down the length of your body, lingering heavily on the high-cut lines of your white monokini and your bare legs. A smooth, predatory smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. He raised his whiskey glass in a silent, incredibly bold toast directly toward you.

“I was just about to tell you I spotted our target, but it seems like he spotted you,” Thor grumbled. He glared over at Valentin, his blue eyes darkening to a stormy hue as his hands clenched into massive, white-knuckled fists behind his head. “Why the fuck is he staring at you like that?” he muttered, every single muscle in his broad frame clenching tight as he fought a losing battle to keep himself from doing something stupid. Like striking the fucker with a stray bolt of lightning.

“Thor, keep your eyes straight ahead,” you hissed back under your breath, stubbornly refusing to look at him. “Tony said he runs the security and digital access keys for the entire compound. If he’s interested, it means we have an opening.”

“An opening to what?” Thor muttered, his tone sharply biting. “He is vile. Look at how he comports himself.”

“An opening for me to get to know hi—”

“Absolutely not,” he interrupted, his voice cutting through the humid air like a sharpened blade.

Your eyebrows furrowed deeply. “What do you mean? We need him, Thor!” you whisper-shouted, sharply turning your body toward him.

He was staring literal daggers across the pool deck, his biceps bulging prominently as he breathed. He looked absolutely furious. You scoffed internally. Did the mere thought of another man being interested in you anger him this much? Did he despise you so profoundly that he couldn't even entertain the thought that a man could actually find you attractive? You breathed sharply through your nose like an enraged bull; you absolutely could not let his fragile ego fuck up this entire operation.

“I am going to the ladies room,” you announced abruptly.

You sat up, your hips shifting with a natural, subtle sway as you swung your legs off the lounge chair. The movement drew Thor’s intense gaze straight to your back, his eyes tracking you with the exact same heavy focus as a certain someone across the pool deck. Thor’s jaw clenched so hard a muscle ticked in his cheek. He knew exactly what you were doing; he was not fucking stupid. You were trying to get away from him to corner the target alone. And he was absolutely not going to let you.

You marched into the restroom, deliberately waiting inside for two full minutes to give Valentin time to notice your absence. When you finally emerged back into the bright sunshine, your eyes instantly scanned the area for Thor, but you couldn't find his giant frame anywhere near the sunbeds. Your brows knitted in concern. Where the fuck is he? You shook your head, dismissing the thought.

Continuing your way, your strides remained purposeful, your hips swaying with an intoxicating rhythm as you confidently made your way over to the open-air pool bar. You stopped right next to two stols away from Valentin, placing your hands flat on the polished marble counter.

“A cosmopolitan, please,” you told the bartender, flashing a polite smile.

Beside you, Valentin smirked and got up, sliding onto the stool right next to you. “Good afternoon,” he smoothed, his voice dripping with an arrogant, upper-class accent as he looked down at your frame. His smirk widened. “I don’t mean to intrude, but I haven't seen your face at the Sanctuary before. I am Valentin.”

You immediately forced your perfected, dazzling smile onto your face, tilting your head up to look at him. “Hello,” you said, your voice smooth, breathy, and entirely welcoming as you deliberately played the part.

Valentin’s dark eyes flashed with deep approval at your response. But just as he opened his mouth to speak, a heavy, solid weight crashed into your side.

A massive, bare arm wrapped securely around your waist, his fingers gripping your skin so tightly that your breath instantly hitched in your throat.

“Here you are, darling,” Thor muttered, leaning down so close his lips practically brushed your ear, though his icy gaze remained dead-locked onto Valentin.

“Here I am,” you said through your teeth. You forced out a light, airy giggle for appearance's sake, but underneath the counter, you aggressively pinched the skin of his arm. Just what did he think he was doing?

In response, his grip only tightened, anchoring you flush against his solid hip.

Valentin looked between the two of you, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise, though his arrogant smirk remained firmly in place. “Your companion didn't seem to care you were there just minutes ago,” Valentin noted smoothly, turning his attention entirely back to you and deliberately stepping a fraction closer to your space. “If you ever find yourself bored with the company, cara, I am always hosting private tastings in the VIP lounge upstairs. A woman of your taste shouldn't be left to just bake in the sun.”

Valentin finally flicked a dismissive, incredibly brief glance toward Thor, taking in his towering height, his bare chest, and his silent, murderous expression. Valentin chuckled softly under his breath, entirely assuming Thor was just some brainless, handsome trophy husband you kept around for arm candy.

You felt your eyes briefly close in pure panic as Thor tried to keep his mouth shut. The tension radiating off him was terrifying; he pulled you even harder against his side, his thumb digging into your waist. Didn't this mortal idiot know who he was dealing with? The God of Thunder looked like he was about to rip Valentin’s head off his shoulders and toss it directly into the infinity pool.

“My husband,” you intervened quickly, emphasizing the word heavily while throwing Thor a sharp, lethal warning glare, “is just enjoying the peace. But thank you for the invitation, Valentin. We might just take you up on that.”

“I look forward to it,” Valentin murmured, his eyes giving your body one last, shameless scan down to your bare legs. He gave a polite nod and turned back toward the bar, entirely unaware of how close he had just come to an early grave.

Thor practically dragged you out of there, his heavy grip guiding you back toward the sunbeds.

The second Valentin was out of earshot, you let out a sharp breath, turning your head to hiss at him. “What do you think you're doing?!”

Thor didn't even spare you a glance, his jaw set in a rigid line as he kept on walking, dragging you right along by his side. “I am not doing anything.” You huffed, sharply slapping his bare arm. “Thor, you're going to ruin everything!” He acted completely deaf, ignoring your slap as he kept his heavy strides forward.

“Tomorrow,” you whispered fiercely, leaning in closer to his side so none of the passing guests could overhear. “I am going to have to flirt with him to get those access codes, and you will not do things like what you just did!”

Thor’s head snapped toward you so fast your breath caught harshly in your chest. His blue eyes were burning, fucking scorching into yours with an unhinged look.

“You will not,” he growled.

You scoffed loudly, throwing your head back. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he said flatly. He finally let go of your waist, sitting back down heavily on his sunbed.

You remained standing over him, your hands flying up in pure frustration. “Is the concept of a man finding me attractive such a foreign concept to you?!” you whisper-shouted, your chest heaving.

He didn't respond as he kept looking at Valentin, his jaw locking into a tight, defensive line. Ofcourse he did not, and that was the exact problem. Any man who set their eyes on you would find you attractive and he could not fucking stand it.

It's because you cannot stand her, his mind echoed, but he knew something was desperately wron g with him.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Valentin was still watching the two of you from the bar, clearly reveling in the fact that he had caused a little disagreement between the stunning woman and her brute of a husband. Thor’s eyes darkened even further as he tracked Valentin's amused expression.

Your gaze followed Thor's, landing right on the smug target.

“Are you serious?” you muttered to Thor. Then, turning your head toward the bar, you deliberately forced a sweet smile and gave Valentin a little, subtle wave.

You turned back to Thor, sitting down forcefully on your own sunbed. “I will do what I have to do, Thor,” you said coldly, snatching up a glossy fashion magazine from the side table—one of the resort’s complimentary services.

“We’ll see about that,” Thor muttered back, his voice dangerous.

You didn't respond, your own jaw locking in a fury so intense you wanted to wrap your hands around his thick neck and strangle him.

So yeah, your day was going exactly the same. You had wanted to strangle him in the morning, and you wanted to strangle him right now. Not a single thing had changed, other than the fact that he was now your supposed husband.

You aggressively kept on turning the glossy pages of the magazine, but your gaze followed Valentin precisely. Between the articles, your sharp eyes roamed over every single person on the pool deck, dissecting them and their behaviors, mapping out the security hierarchy of the resort. But you got bored after a while, the heat and the tension becoming too much to sit through. Deciding you needed a distraction, you stood up from your sunbed to go into the pool.

The moment you stood, Thor’s intense gaze focused directly in on your stomach. The air left his lungs. There, cutting across your midriff, were the exact same faint, jagged scars. His blood ran entirely cold. Just how many of those did you have hidden across your body? He felt his stomach churn painfully, his hands going completely cold despite the blistering sun. But just as he watched you walk down the shallow steps into the water, he fucking saw Valentin look at you again.

Just why did this guy not give up?

Thor felt something violent biting at him inside—something so utterly convincing and overwhelming that his face hardened into stone. He got up immediately, his towering frame casting a shadow over the lounge chairs as he followed you straight into the water.

You were already in the pool, the cold water instantly relieving your burning skin. You swam smoothly toward the far edge, propping your elbows up on the smooth marble so you could lay your head on your hands and finally relax.

Just as you were settling in, a calm expression finally washing over your face, the entire pool rattled with the force of someone jumping in.

You whipped your head around, your eyes wide with irritation. Thor emerged from underwater a split second later, a smug, breathless smile on his face as he broke the surface just inches away from you.

“Can I not relax in peace now?” you snapped between your teeth.

But the remaining words were brutally taken right out of your lungs. Before you could slide away, Thor wrapped his massive hands securely around the back of your bare thighs, effortlessly lifting your body up in the water. The sudden momentum left you with no choice but to instinctively circle your legs around his broad waist to keep from slipping.

“What are you doing?” you whispered into his ear, completely breathless. Despite the panic racing through your veins, you forced a bright, blinding honeymoon smile for the sake of the couples swimming near you, whose bewildered, intrigued expressions were already focused entirely on the two of you.

“I am enjoying the cold water with my wife,” he murmured back. His warm breath fanned heavily over the sensitive skin of your neck as he intentionally cornered you, crowding your front while your back was pressed against the marble edge of the pool you had been relaxing on seconds ago.

Your hands instinctively found his neck, your fingers gripping his shoulders while your thumbs lightly played with the short hairs at the nape of his neck. You looked at him, your lips dangling a mere inch away from his. You could feel his steady breath fanning over your mouth, making your lips tingle with soul-burning want.

Why the hell were your lips tingling with want? Oh, god. Your face burned with a furious, internal heat as your eyes helplessly locked onto his mouth. Both of your chests heaved, brushing against one another in the water.

“I am not your real wife, Thor,” you breathed out, trying desperately to ground yourself. “I don’t need you touching me every five seconds—”

“I don’t need anyone here thinking you are available.”

“What?” you whispered, your heart giving a massive flutter against your ribs.

“Fake or not, Little Flame,” he growled softly, his blue eyes turning incredibly dark as his grip on your thighs tightened. “I am your fucking husband, and every man on this island will know it. I will make sure of it.”

He smirked, and before you could even process his words, he leaned in and pressed a firm, lingering kiss directly to your flushed cheek. You gasped in absolute shock, your skin scorching where his lips met your face. As he pulled back just a fraction, your noses brushed. You looked directly into his eyes, feeling yourself grow hotter and hotter and hotter—

“My honorary guests! You made it!”

A booming, boisterous voice suddenly erupted from above you. You both snapped your heads up, startled out of the suffocating bubble, and saw Alejandro Moretti himself standing on the pool deck. He was smiling down at the two of you, his arms spread wide in a grand, welcoming gesture.

You aggressively cleared your throat, your training forcing you to seamlessly recover. “Hello, Mr. Moretti. It's a pleasure to meet you,” you said, forcing a dazzling smile as you introduced yourself and extended a wet hand up toward the him.

He immediately took it, bowing his head slightly. “It is my absolute pleasure,” he said warmly. “You are the wife of the mighty Thor, after all!” He chuckled loudly, before turning his glowing gaze entirely back to Thor. “Big fan, man. Big fan.”

Moretti extended his hand toward him, and Thor took it, a wide, proud smile immediately breaking across his face because he was being praised. God, he absolutely loved being praised, didn't he?

Moretti started talking rapidly, listing off Thor’s various accomplishments while keeping a firm, enthusiastic grip on his hand. Rolling your eyes privately, you used the distraction to unwrap your legs from Thor's waist, pulling yourself off his torso and slipping back into the water.

The moment you detached yourself, Thor's hand snapped out, tightening firmly around your wrist. He immediately tore his attention away from Moretti, looking down at you. “Where are you going, sweetheart?”

The casual nickname made your entire stomach flutter dangerously.

“Gonna go dry off, honey,” you said, matching his energy as you pulled yourself up slightly to plant a swift, fake peck on his cheek. “Just a bit cold.”

“I will come with you,” Thor insisted immediately, his cheek burninh as his eyes tracking your movement.

“Ah, newlyweds,” Moretti chuckled fondly at the display, shaking his head. “Always so full of love, am I right?”

You gave him a dry, polite chuckle and quickly swam toward the pool steps to get out. As you and Thor stepped onto the stone deck, grabbing your towels, Moretti walked right alongside you, refusing to leave Thor’s side for even a single second. It was like he wanted Thor all to himself.

How can someone not want him, though? the thought involuntarily slipped into your mind.

You froze dead in your tracks, your towel clutched tightly in your hands as your own mind echoed back to you.

No. You did not want him. Certainly not. You didn't, you couldn't—

You closed your eyes, letting out a long, defeated sigh.

You fucking wanted him. And he could never know.

—

You were getting ready, painting a sharp, precise wing of black eyeliner over your eyelid as you desperately tried to keep yourself intact.

Moretti had invited the both of you to the exclusive resort party taking place tonight. Well, you were going to go either way for the sake of the mission, but he had explicitly invited you as his honorary guests.

After the you realizedthat you actually wanted Thor, you had started to see him in an entirely different light. You had felt physically nauseous by the fact that you wanted him, wanting nothing more than to run back to the villa to self-reflect and figure out exactly where your life had gone wrong. But he had not left you alone for a single second. The moment you had said you were going to the room, he had immediately gotten up and followed you back to the room. He had looked so genuinely caring while doing it, which only made an unwelcome swarm of butterflies erupt in your stomach. And the fact that he looked so so good—

Ugh, you were doing it again.

“Are you ready, Little Flame?” came Thor’s deep voice from behind the bathroom door.

You took one good look at yourself in the mirror, your gaze traveling down from your flawless makeup to the white midi dress that hugged your curves perfectly, down to your elegant heeled sandals. You looked hot. Absolutely lethal.

You swung the bathroom door open, only to be hit dead-on with the sight of him waiting in the foyer.

His lips parted, falling slightly agape as his eyes traveled over you, taking you in. His towering, formidable frame was clad in tailored cream linen trousers and a crisp white linen shirt, finished with beige loafers.

Your heart stopped dead in your chest. Was he actively trying to kill you? He was already breathtakingly handsome on a regular day, but the fact that he was dressing like that was doing completely unspeakable things to your sanity.

Thor felt the air brutally ripped from his lungs the exact second you emerged. His blue eyes aggressively roamed over your face, your sharp eyeliner, and the way the white dress accentuated your flawless form. Now, why the hell did you have to look like this and still have the absolute audacity to hate him?

His breathing became distinctly ragged, his eyes darkening to a stormy, dangerous hue as the possessive thought of other men witnessing your beauty tonight overtook his mind. But he forced his muscles to relax as he reminded himself that this hotel was strictly full of wealthy couples. It was fine. You were anchored to him. Right?

“Let’s go, big guy,” you said, averting your gaze in absolute panic as you brushed past his broad shoulder and made your way out of the villa.

Thor’s eyebrows shot up in utter bewilderment. He stood frozen for a second before turning to follow you out onto the stone path closing the door behind him, his voice clearly dripping with a deep, rumbling amusement. “Big guy?”

Your face burned a scorching, furious hot at your own slip of the tongue. You usually never called him anything other than petty names specifically engineered to irritate him, so what the fuck was that now?

“You... are massive. And a man?” you stammered out, desperately trying to make light of the situation as you walked ahead of him, your heels clicking sharply.

“Hm,” Thor just grunted behind you. You couldn't see his face, but you could hear the triumphant smile in his voice as the two of you made your way down toward dinner.

The revelation that you were actually attracted to him was making you go completely crazy, and you were already fucking it all up. Your brain was entirely short-circuiting over how mind-numbingly handsome he looked in that white linen shirt, and calling him big guy of all things was proof that you were losing your edge. All through dinner, you were on high alert, desperately trying to hide your lingering glimpses toward his muscular arms and his stupidly handsome face, praying he wouldn't notice the sudden shift in your behavior.

Dinner itself had been an exercise in damage control. Thor had absolutely loved the food, boisterously shouting “Another!” to the waitstaff every time he finished a plate, leaving you to look at the waiters with highly apologetic eyes. You had quickly smoothed it over, telling them with a charming laugh how incredibly enthusiastic your husband was about their exquisite cuisine. Far from being offended, the staff had been completely fascinated by Thor, even asking for his signature—though the poor guys couldn't take any pictures due to the resort's strict high-society privacy policy.

Once dinner was finally over, you made your way to the actual party.

The bass from the music blasted your ears off the second you walked through the entrance. Thor’s heavy hand was firmly circled around your bare waist, anchoring you to his side as you looked around the crowded open-air venue. You bit your lip, doing everything in your power to mask your fastened heartbeat and the slight panic tracing your expression. To maintain the doting newlyweds facade, your own arm was stretched across Thor’s broad back.

And god, how magnificent that back was. Through the thin linen of his shirt, you could feel the solid, dangerous planes of his muscles right beneath your palm. It made you wonder, in a rogue, intrusive thought, if you could paint that flawless skin red with your nails, leaving little scratches down his—

oh my god, shut up, girl, you fiercely scolded yourself in your mind, your face flashing a blistering hot.

As you walked deeper into the VIP section toward Alejandro Moretti’s table, you spotted Valentin right next to him.

The exact millisecond Valentin came into view, you could feel every single muscle in Thor’s body tense up beneath your hand. Pure instinct took over, you gave the small of his back a soft, deliberate little squeeze, a silent warning to stay grounded.

The touch made Thor instantly look down at you, his blue eyes full of an intense, sweeping emotion you couldn't quite name. Your mind raced. Why the fuck were you trying to calm him down? And why the hell was he getting so intensely tense in the first place?

“Don’t make a scene,” you whispered fiercely up to him, looking at him through your lashes as you kept your voice strictly beneath the thumping bass.

“Do not make me make a scene,” he grumbled back, his deep voice heavily unpleased as his grip on your waist tightened.

Alejandro Moretti immediately got up from his leather booth the moment he saw you approach. “Ah! Here they are!” he announced loudly, his arms thrown wide open in a grand greeting.

Thor smiled brightly, his deep, booming laugh filling your ears as he stepped forward to enthusiastically embrace the billionaire, playing the part of the larger-than-life husband a little too well. You let out a bright, airy laugh right on cue, looking up at them as you seamlessly executed the role of the loving, supportive wife.

From across the table, Valentin was staring directly at you, a confident, knowing smirk pulling at his lips.

Alejandro turned proudly to his younger brother, gesturing toward the two of you. “My guests of honor, Valentin! This is Thor, and his lovely wife.”

Valentin’s dark eyebrows furrowed in immediate confusion. “Thor?”

“Yes! The God of Thunder!” Alejandro chuckled heartily, totally oblivious to the shift in the air as he gestured for everyone to sit down.

The arrogant smirk was instantly wiped entirely off Valentin’s face. He stood frozen, likely wondering how the hell he hadn't recognized the literal Avenger at the pool bar earlier.

“Ah,” Valentin cleared his throat, cautiously extending his hand across the table, even as Thor threw absolute, unyielding daggers at him with his icy gaze. “My pleasure.”

Thor’s lips pulled into a wide, bright smile as he reached out and took Valentin’s hand. But you knew that exact smile entirely too well—it was the predatory, sharp-edged smile he regularly threw at you whenever you managed to annoy him to death in public. It was the smile of a Thor who was profoundly angry, masking his rage with a lethally graceful diplomacy.

His godlike grip must have tightened a fraction too much around Valentin’s fingers, because the smug playboy’s face instantly grimaced in pain, his knuckles turning white under the force of the god’s hand.

You tapped lightly on Thor’s elbow, giving him a subtle, pointed signal to let go before he completely pulverized the man's hand. He finally released his grip, though his blue eyes continued to burn right through Valentin, his other arm instantly wrapping tight around your waist again to pull you back into his orbit.

You went to sit down in the plush leather booth, but Thor deliberately shuffled his massive frame, placing himself directly between you and Valentin to completely block the playboy's line of sight. You rolled your eyes privately. He was obviously being this intensely possessive because the entire resort had to believe you were blissfully married, but he was playing the part a little too well for your sanity.

Alejandro, ever the fanboy, was visibly disappointed by the seating arrangement—he was now sitting on your other side instead of right next to the God of Thunder—but he stopped himself from saying anything to avoid offending his royal guest.

So began the endless praises for Thor.

“I must say, King Thor, having you here at the Sanctuary is a historic honor!” Alejandro beamed, gesturing for a waiter to pour more whiskey. “The stories of your victories on Earth, the Battle of New York, the triumph over Malekith... truly spectacular! A god walking among mortals!”

Thor smiled brightly, his booming laugh easily cutting through the lounge music as his arm remained locked securely around your waist, his thumb lazily stroking your side through the fabric of your dress. “Ah, you are too kind, Alejandro! But a King must protect the realms. The battle against the Dark Elves was indeed a fierce one, requiring absolute precision and power.”

As he spoke the word precision, Thor casually leaned back, his icy gaze flicking past you to check if Valentin was looking at you. Finding Valentin’s eyes darting toward your bare shoulders, Thor’s grip on your waist tightened possessively, his jaw clenching as he seamlessly continued his story. “We had to secure ancient, dangerous technologies to ensure they never fell into the wrong hands. It takes a truly formidable force to handle such secrets.”

“Incredible,” Alejandro said, hanging on his every word. “And to manage such cosmic feats while keeping a beautiful wife by your side!”

“She is my greatest anchor,” Thor murmured, his deep voice dropping into a low tone as he turned his head to look down at you. His eyes searched your face with a burning, unreadable intensity that made your heart skip a violent beat. “No matter how chaotic the universe becomes, she is the only one who can truly command my attention.”

You gulped, your eyes helplessly searching his face, desperately trying to read the heavy gravity in his expression. But before you could decipher it, a question cut through the air—one you should have anticipated much sooner.

“So, how did you two meet?” Valentin asked, his voice smooth as he leaned forward. His dark eyes actively tried to find your frame past Thor's broad shoulders, but Thor was absolutely wiping you from his sight, shifting his weight to keep you entirely hidden.

Your blood ran cold. A sudden wave of panic rushed through you, and as you snapped your eyes to Thor, you saw the exact same flash of panic mirrored in his blue eyes. You had never rehearsed a backstory.

“I saw him—” you began hastily, just as Thor started, “We saw each other—”

Your voices mixed awkwardly over the thumping bass of the music. Alejandro looked between the two of you expectantly, his eyebrows raised.

You quickly forced a light, melodic laugh, covering the slip-up as you spoke over each other. Tilting your head up, you offered Thor a brilliant, adoring smile. “My husband should tell you about this one. He’s a real good storyteller, aren't you, darling?” You squeezed his shoulder, your fingers digging into his shirt.

Thor’s hold tightened around your waist, his thumb pressing firmly into your side. “I must let you take over this one, my dear. Your perspective is far more enchanting.”

“I insist,” you said, your voice dripping sweet as honey, though you locked eyes with him in a silent, lethal challenge. You knew pushing the spotlight onto him annoyed him to his absolute core.

“Very well,” he grumbled under his breath, leaning back into the booth. He cleared his throat, his posture shifting into something commanding. Valentin had slid over a bit to the side of the table, desperate to finally see you both, his sharp eyes intensely dissecting the two of you for any cracks in the facade.

“We met years ago, when she was first recruited to the team,” Thor began, his deep baritone rumbling through his chest. He paused, his blue eyes dropping down to look at you, the heavy lounge music suddenly fading into absolute background noise. “I saw her walk into the room. A beautiful woman. Truly, the most breathtaking creature I had ever laid my eyes upon.”

You looked up at him, fully expecting to see a detached, calculated look in his eyes—the face of a soldier executing a calculated lie. But your heart slammed against your ribs. You were shaken to your core at the raw, truthful look in his gaze. Your breath hitched, turning ragged in your chest.

He chuckled softly, the sound low and intimate, as if he had completely forgotten Alejandro and Valentin were even sitting across from them. “But she looked like she had dark, stormy clouds swarming all over her. She was so heavily guarded. So, my brain short-circuited, and I called her gloomy.”

Alejandro’s eyes widened, a grin breaking across his face. “No way!”

Your jaw clenched as the vivid memory made your blood boil all over again. Why the fuck was he telling them what actually happened?

“I know, I shouldn't have,” Thor murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. His gaze was burning into you, scorching you with a look that made your skin prickle. “But seeing her face... my mind simply stopped working. That was the only thing I could utter. And do you know what she did?” He looked over at Alejandro, a genuine, fond smile pulling at his lips. “She didn't cower. She didn't stay silent. She yelled at me. She marched right up to my face and screamed about what a massive, insufferable asshole I was.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in deep, defensive confusion. Wht was he chuckling about that? He had hated you for it.

“She was the first woman to ever yell at me like that, without a single shred of fear, without holding back an ounce of her fire,” Thor said, his voice a raspy register, thick with a devotion that felt terrifyingly real. He reached down, his large hand gently cupping the side of your face, his thumb softly tracing your cheekbone. The tender touch sent a violent jolt of electricity straight down your spine. “That’s when I realized... right there, in the middle of her fury. That’s when I realized she was the love of my life.”

You gulped, your hands clenching into tight fists against your lap. The air was brutally ripped from your lungs. You literally couldn't breathe under the sheer weight of his stare. He was looking down at you as if you were the most precious, sacred thing he had ever been allowed to hold.

“Then, I chased her for years,” Thor continued smoothly, finally tearing his gaze away from your frozen face to smile at Alejandro. “Trying to get her to agree to a single date. I brought flowers to her quarters every single day, trying to melt the ice. She finally caved in after a while... and here we are.”

Thor cleared his throat letting go of your face and adjusting his shirt as Alejandro let out a captivated sigh.

Your gaze remained completely stuck on the line of Thor's neck, your mind spinning in absolute confusion. He had sounded so entirely sincere when he described your beauty. The way he explained falling in love with your fire, it sounded like poetry.

He isn't in love with you, a harsh, grounding voice violently intervened in your mind. He is lying through his teeth to save the mission. He made it all up. You desperately tried to pull yourself together, reciting the mantra over and over: He hates you. He has hated you for years.

But as you sat there, enveloped in the heat of his massive body, a sharp ache bloomed deep in your chest at the reminder of his hatred.

Why did your chest ache at his hatred towards you? And why did it hurt so bad?

“That is just beautiful,” Alejandro breathed, raising his glass in a toast. “A match made in the heavens, truly.”

You swallowed the thick lump in your throat, forcefully shaking the daze out of your head. Forcing your muscles to relax, you put on a flawless, dazzling smile for show, leaning deeper into your fake husband's side while your heart shattered quietly into a million pieces.

The subject changed then, Alejandro and Thor talking about other things while Thor gave you occasional little pecks on your cheek, his lips lingering just enough to keep your heart beating frantically in your mouth.

“Why haven't you two kissed?” Valentin asked suddenly, his voice sharply cutting through the conversation of the two men. His dark eyes roamed all over your face, calculating and deeply skeptical.

What?

Thor turned toward him immediately, his posture shifting into something lethal. “What do you mean, mortal? I’ve been doing nothing but kiss her since we sat down.” His blue eyes narrowed into dangerous slits at Valentin.

“You keep kissing her on her cheeks. Why not on the lips?” Valentin pushed, his gaze sharp and dissecting.

Thor’s gaze darkened to absolute midnight. “It is not your place to ask such questions.”

The playboy had been watching you far too closely; you should’ve seen this one coming. Valentin leaned back, a smug, accusatory grin slowly returning to his face. “You’re acting like you’re pretending—”

Your heart stopped dead in your chest.

“Do not speak one more word, mortal,” Thor spoke, his deep voice dropping an octave as he raised a single, threatening finger.

Alejandro’s expression changed instantly. He looked at his brother with sudden seriousness, his tone sharp. “Leave our guests alone, Val.” But then, Alejandro’s eyes dropped down to the floor for a split second, as if he were mentally calculating something. He turned back toward you, his brow furrowing. “But... he is right. Why haven't you kissed her?”

Your heart started beating faster and faster, a wave of ice-cold panic rushing to your fingertips. Your cover was about to be completely blown right here in the VIP section. Thor’s gaze darkened even further, clearly unpleased and deeply tense at being questioned. This was not good. You had to do something, and you had to do it right now.

“She is my wife—” Thor started angrily, but you smoothly interfered.

With an effortless, confident laugh, you dismissed the two brothers with a casual wave of your hand, acting as if they were nothing more than little, annoying flies. Your left hand found Thor’s massive bicep as you elegantly crossed your legs, slanting them directly over his thick thighs.

Responding to the sudden contact, Thor's arm instinctively wrapped around your back, his eyes snapping down to look at you immediately. What were you doing?

“My husband and I are very passionate,” you said, your voice dripping with a sultry, unbothered confidence as your hand trailed seductively over the broad expanse of his chest. “We try to keep the PDA to a minimum so we don't make people uncomfortable. Should we show them, honey?”

You looked completely unshakable, but inside, your heart was threatening to leap straight out of your chest. The skin of your legs burned where your thighs were glued to his.

Thor’s chest heaved tightly beneath your fingers as you looked up at him through your lashes. His heart missed a beat at the breathtaking sight of you in his lap. Fuck. You both knew exactly what had to be done right now, or the entire mission was over.

Thor’s large hand found the back of your neck, his fingers tightening securely. “Music to my fucking ears, darling,” he growled.

And then, he claimed your lips in an instant. The force of the impact took the remaining breath right out of your lungs. Your left hand instinctively grabbed the back of his neck, your fingers anchoring into his skin, while your other hand remained flat against his heaving chest. Your mouths moved in tandem, a low, helpless sigh of contentment pouring from your throat straight into the kiss. Your head tilted to the side, completely surrendering to the heat.

His right hand on your back slid downward to your waist, grabbing you with an iron, desperate tightness, as if he never intended to let you go for the rest of his immortal life. His other hand moved from the back of your neck up to your head, his thick fingers tangling aggressively through your hair, tilting your face up by giving a firm, sudden tug on your hair. You gasped into his mouth, your teeth sharply biting his lower lip in response. Thor let out a low grunt, his kisses instantly becoming more fervent, deeper, and completely unhinged. You were drowning in him.

Next to you, Alejandro and Valentin looked at each other, their faces flushing as they clearly regretted ever opening their mouths. They were visibly uncomfortable—good. They deserved to be, so they would never question a single thing about the two of you again.

He was entirely consuming you, and gods, was he liking it. He felt the soft circle of your thumb over the nape of his neck, sending a violent wave of chills straight down his spine. You tasted sweet—sweeter than any other lips he had ever tasted in his thousand years of life. Thor licked at the seam of your lips once, a non-verbal command motioning for you to open up for him. You tried to fight it for a split second, a last shred of self-preservation, but he forcefully made you part them by giving your lower lip another sharp bite and executing a firm tug on your hair.

You gasped, your chest heaving against his as he glided his tongue over yours. He was so good at this. So fucking good that you completely forgot where you were, forgot the mission, forgot anyone else existed besides him. He tugged tightly on your waist, trying to pull your body even closer into his mass, but you were already entirely glued to him, his radiating heat burning straight through your side.

Alejandro loudly cleared his throat, but you both kept on going like there was no tomorrow, still kissing him with a desperate, hidden hunger, as if you knew you would never get the chance to hold him like this ever again.

“Okay. We get it,” Valentin muttered, his voice clearly irritated and completely full of deep regret.

Thor let out a heavy grunt, finally parting his lips from yours. A thin, glistening string of saliva formed between your lips before breaking in the dim light. You looked up at him, your eyes completely dazed over, your hair beautifully messed up from his heavy hand, and your lips visibly swollen and red. He stared down at you, his own lips flushed and his pupils blown incredibly wide as his chest rose and fell in ragged breaths.

Taking a shallow breath, you slowly turned your head toward the other two men, a wicked, victorious smile pulling at your lips. “See?” you said.

You tried not to give away how much his kiss had affected you, but you knew you were a fucking mess. Your heart was threatening to leap out of your chest, your lungs heaving fast as you gulped, desperately trying to calm yourself down. How the hell did he affect you this much?

And he was still holding you, his arm wrapped incredibly tight around your waist as he kept looking down at you. His own broad chest was heaving hard as he fought a losing battle to get himself back under control.

It was just a damn kiss for the mission. He shouldn't be this completely unhinged by it. But he felt his pulse fasten more and more the longer he sat there. You had kissed him. You—the bane of his very existence, the woman who had spent years yelling at him and riling him up—had kissed him, and he had liked it. He had liked it so much that a dark, primitive part of his mind wanted nothing more than to drag you right back to his lips, to kiss you heavily until you were breathless, and to roam his hands all over your bare skin, thats all—nothing big really.

He fucking wanted you, and it was nothing big—who was he kidding? It was probably the biggest newsflash in his entire thousand-year lifetime. He wanted you so much that he felt it shaking the very foundations of his immortal soul.

I want her, his mind echoed fiercely. I want her, I want to consume her, I want to be completely consumed by her.

Thor averted his eyes toward the table, his jaw locking. Fuck. How the hell did this happen?

“Yes, we get it, damn,” Alejandro said, breaking the heavy silence with a loud laugh, holding his hands up in surrender.

Valentin, however, was a completely different story. His dark, calculating gaze was still locked dead on your face, intensely trying to decipher the lingering daze in your eyes, trying to see if there was still a crack in the armor—if he could keep on pursuing you.

You noticed his stare immediately, your eyes locking onto his. A sharp jolt of reality hit you. You were sitting in Thor's lap, your thighs crossed over his, kissed by him so thoroughly that your mind had gone entirely blank. You had completely forgotten about your objective.

The codes. You needed the damn digital decryption keys.

You had told Thor earlier that you would handle Valentin tomorrow, but after the possessive display he had just put on, he would clearly find a way to interfere if you tried to flirt with the man tomorrow. It had to be tonight. It had to happen right now under the cover of this party.

Your mind rapidly formulated a plan: you had to first find a way to get away from Thor, corner Valentin alone at the bar, seduce him, and slip a few drops of truth serum into his whiskey glass to extract the server access codes.

It was a perfect, textbook assassin execution. But as you sat there, feeling the heavy, protective weight of Thor's hand on your hip, you realized something. You didn't want to leave the comfort of Thor's embrace.

Oh, how thoroughly, hopelessly fucked you were.

You had to get it together. Bracing yourself, you tried lifting your legs off Thor’s lap, but the exact second you shifted, his iron hold on your waist tightened. His eyebrows furrowed into a hard line, and his questioning, blazing blue gaze snapped up to lock onto yours. He didn’t say a word, but the look in his eyes was loudly demanding to know exactly where the hell you thought you were going.

Why was he acting like this? Why was he looking at you as if that kiss had completely unhinged him just as much as it had affected you?

You helplessly looked into his eyes, your gaze involuntarily dropping down to his swollen lips before snapping back up to his stare. “I’m just going to the bar,” you murmured.

“I’ll come with you,” he said immediately. His deep voice carried a rough, unyielding edge, his instincts focusing entirely on one single objective: keep that vile mortal fucker as far away from you as humanly possible.

“No!—” you scrambled out, a little too desperately, before quickly forcing a soft, reassuring smile to maintain the act. “I’ll be back in a second, honey. It’s okay.”

This felt devastatingly real. He looked genuinely jealous, his possessive aura radiating off him in suffocating waves.

“She can go alone, my friend. I own this entire establishment; nothing could possibly happen to her here,” Alejandro intervened with a booming laugh, reassuring the tense god.

Taking the opening, you carefully slipped out of Thor’s tight grip and stood up. The sudden lack of his heavy hands and burning heat against your skin left you feeling instantly cold, a sudden pang of withdrawal hitting you in the chest. You stubbornly ignored it. Catching Valentin’s eye across the table, you held his gaze for a few seconds longer than any happily married woman ever should, throwing him a subtle, inviting tilt of your head before turning on your heel and making your way toward the crowded bar—finally out of Thor’s direct line of sight.

You knew Valentin would make up a pathetic excuse to follow you within minutes. Arriving at the bar, you caught the bartender’s attention. “A virgin mojito, please,” you ordered smoothly. You were a professional; you were absolutely not going to consume a single drop of alcohol while on an active extraction mission.

You waited for a few minutes, slowly sipping on your refreshing mocktail while keeping your perimeter scan active. Right on cue, a smooth, arrogant voice slithered in next to your ear.

“I take it you didn’t look at me like that back there just to have a drink all by yourself?”

Valentin slid onto the barstool right next to you, his eyes brimming with a smug, predatory confidence.

A slow, practiced smirk pulled at your lips as you gracefully turned your upper body toward him, leaning one elbow against the counter. “I don’t think I get what you mean, Valentin.”

“Don’t play innocent. It’s not a good look on you,” he murmured, his eyes boldly dropping down to the neckline of your dress before rising back to your face. “Though, I must admit... I really like this whole going-around-his-back thing. A dangerous woman gets me thrilled.”

“Hm,” you mumbled, your smile becoming as beautiful and lethal as a viper's. You leaned in a fraction closer into his personal space, letting your voice drop into a sultry, confidential whisper. “Are you just going to stand there talking, or are you gonna have a drink with me?”

Valentin’s smirk widened, completely intoxicated by the sudden green light. “I could never say no to a woman like you.” He immediately raised a hand to the bartender. “Get me a double Macallan, neat.”

As the bartender turned around to pour the amber liquor, you covertly slid your right hand into the small, hidden pocket built into the lining of your white midi dress. Your fingertips brushed against the tiny, cold glass vial containing S.H.I.E.L.D.-issued truth serum—colorless, odorless, and fast-acting.

The bartender placed the heavy crystal whiskey glass right in front of Valentin.

“You know,” you purred, deliberately reaching across Valentin's chest to grab a small bowl of nuts from the opposite side of his stool. The intentional movement forced your bare shoulder to brush heavily against his chest, completely breaking his concentration as his eyes locked onto your neck.

With a fluid, invisible grace, your thumb flicked the cap off the vial. As your arm crossed over his open whiskey glass, you seamlessly dropped three drops of the serum directly into the amber liquid.

You pulled back, placing the bowl between you with an innocent, dazzling smile. “A toast. To private tastings.”

“To private tastings,” Valentin echoed darkly, completely oblivious. He picked up the crystal glass and took a massive, confident gulp of the whiskey, swallowing the serum down in one smooth motion.

You counted the seconds in your head. Three. Two. One.

Almost instantly, Valentin’s posture relaxed a fraction too much. The sharp, predatory spark in his eyes suddenly dulled into a slight, hazy glaze, his blinking slowing down as the neural inhibitors rapidly flooded his system, forcing his vocal cords to lose all capacity for deception.

Your smirk turned razor-sharp. It was time to get to work.

“Valentin,” you whispered, leaning in so close your breath brushed his ear, masking your interrogation beneath the thumping bass of the party. “Let’s talk about your brother’s collection. Where are the digital decryption keys for the Dark Elf technology stored?”

Valentin’s jaw loosened, his voice coming out completely flat, devoid of its previous arrogant inflection. “The main encryption drive stays locked in the master server vault... sub-level two of the main villa compound. Hold on why are you asking me th—”

“And how do I bypass the biometric firewall?” you cut him off before he could think.

“The security bypass code changes every twelve hours,” Valentin droned automatically, his hand resting limply against the counter.

“Mhm, and what is it lets say... tomorrow night?” you pushed seamlessly, your eyes locked onto his dazed face.

“Tomorrow night's terminal override sequence for the vault is... Alpha-Niner-Seven-X-Ray-Delta.”

Bingo.

Your brain instantly memorized the alphanumeric sequence, a cold, triumphant rush of adrenaline flooding your veins. You had the codes for tomorrow. The entire mission could be wrapped up in less than three days, just like you wanted. You could finally leave this godforsaken resort, get away from this cover, and most importantly—get away from the dangerous, addictive pull of the God of Thunder.

Valentin pouted as he looked at you, his eyes glassy and confused under the weight of the serum. "But why are you asking me all th—"

“I have to go, dear,” you cut him off quickly, placing a hand on his bicep and giving it a soothing squeeze to keep him compliant.

But his hand snapped up, gripping your arm to keep you from pulling away. “No, you can't leave. I had plans for us tonight...”

“No plans for us today,” you cooed, lowering your voice to a soft, hypnotic purr as you playfully booped his nose. He pouted even more at the gesture. You mentally rolled your eyes, already looking back toward the crowded VIP booth to check on Thor.

“But I wanted to fuck you—“

You whipped your head back toward Valentin so fast you thought you were going to get whiplash. But before you could even react to his crude words, he was brutally cut off.

A massive hand descended from the shadows like a falling meteor, wrapping entirely around the back of Valentin’s head and fiercely slamming his face straight down onto the marble counter.

Crack.

You gasped, your eyes blowing wide. Nearby guests screamed and immediately scrambled away, completely shocked by the sudden, violent ordeal. Valentin let out a pathetic, muffled groan as a dark stream of red instantly started dripping down his nostrils, pooling on the counter.

Thor held him pinned there, his massive hand basically covering most of Valentin's skull. You were so damn sure that if he applied just a fraction more pressure, he would crush the man's head like a ripe grape.

“You do not talk to my wife like that,” Thor growled, his voice a vibrating rumble that shook the very foundation of the bar.

“Thor, stop it!” you panicked, your hands desperately finding his rigid bicep, trying to pull his arm back.

Muffled against the stone, Valentin let out a wet, dizzy chuckle, the serum making him completely reckless. “Well, god-man... your wife lured me here—“

Slam.

Thor violently cracked his head against the counter a second time.

“I told you not to make a scene, didn't I?!”you yelled at the top of your lungs over the blasting music, frantically pulling at his arm to stop him from committing murder.

Thor slowly turned his head to look down at you. His blue eyes were completely blown with an unhinged, primitive rage. “I told you not to make me make one, did I not?!” he yelled back, his booming voice completely overriding the bass of the blasting lounge music.

You involuntarily flinched at the volume and raw power of his voice. You let out a sharp, furious huff, tore your hands off his arm, and turned around to bolt.

“Where do you think you're going?!” he demanded loudly.

He finally let go of Valentin, leaving theman to groan and slump heavily against the bar as you made your way out of the party. Every single eye of the high-society couples was locked onto you, whispering in terror as you stormed past.

“Stop!” Thor yelled after you, his heavy footsteps echoing right behind you, but your steps only fastened into a dead sprint.

You practically flew down the dark, stone paths of the resort, making your way back to the secluded villa. There wasn't a single soul around out here.

“I told you to stop!” he yelled again, his massive strides easily closing the distance as he caught up to you just as you reached the front door.

“And I told you to behave!” you screamed back, throwing the door open and slamming it behind you, desperately trying to force the heavy wood to lock on his face.

But you failed miserably.

“And I told you to stay away from him!” Thor yelled, forcing the door open without a single shred of effort—it was probably like flicking away a fly for him—before he aggressively slammed it shut behind him, sealing the two of you inside the tense silence of the villa.

“Why do you care?!” you yelled, throwing your arms up in the air as you spun around to face him, your face burning hot from rage.

“Why did you defy what I told you?” he pushed, stepping heavily into your personal space, his towering chest heaving.

“Because you are my mission partner, not my superior!”you shrieked, the built-up frustration of the last few hours completely boiling over. “God! You and your insufferable superiority complex!” You yelled again, aggressively turning your back to him to get away from his presence, making a beeline toward the open balcony doors.

“Do not walk away from me!” Thor roared.

In two quick strides, he crossed the room. His hand locked firmly around your wrist, his grip unyielding but careful not to break you, as he yanked you back and turned you around to face him dead-on.

You opened your mouth to say something, but all words completely left you as you noticed how your noses were inches away, your breathing fastening to a panicked, ragged rhythm as you looked up at him. His chest was heaving just like yours, the sheer mass of him completely crowding you into the balcony's door. You just gulped, your eyes helplessly finding his lips again before you forced your gaze up to meet his intense stare.

“Why are you acting like you actually care?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly, your eyes filled with deep questioning. His eyes, which were locked onto your lips, finally flicked up to look directly into your eyes. He gulped, a muscle tightening in his jaw as he flatly lied, “I don’t.” He averted his eyes immediately after.

He cared. He fucking cared so much, but he could not let you know.

You scoffed loudly at his terrible deflection. “What’s all this then? You’ve been acting so strange since we got here—” His eyes snapped right back to yours, flashing with a sudden heat. “Oh, like you haven’t!” he said, his iron grip on your wrist tightening just a bit.

“What?” you gaped, your mouth forming a perfect 'O' shape at his audacity. “The nerve of you! I have been acting completely normal!” You aggressively tried to push against his heavy chest to create some distance, but it was like trying to shove a solid brick wall; it was not working.

“Have you, though?” he challenged. His head tilted slightly to the side as he looked down at you, his towering frame completely casting you in shadow. “You’ve been trying to avoid me ever since we arrived. Mind you, we are supposed to be husband and wife here, and instead of me, you kept throwing yourself into the arms of that bastard—”

“Excuse me for acting exactly like I should while we are on a high-stakes mission—”

“Is this how you act while you are on a mission?” he fiercely cut you off. He took a heavy, deliberate step forward, crowding you so completely that you were forced to push your back straight into the balcony door, the glass cool against your skin. His expression morphed into one of deep distaste—like the mere thought of you acting exactly like this on other operations disturbed him to his very bone.

“Not at all, Thor,” you muttered, finally averting your eyes as a wave of genuine discomfort washed over your face. “But I occasionally do have to seduce men here and there. It’s not a big deal—”

His thick eyebrows furrowed deeply. Before you could turn your face away completely, his large hand came up, his fingers gently but firmly catching your chin to force you to look at him. “Not a big deal? Is someone making you seduce them? There are other ways to extract information—” he started, his deep tone initially angry but quickly softening with a rare, unexpected touch of sympathy.

You swallowed hard against the lump in your throat. “Thor, I have been trained this way. And your ways are always too loud—”

“Who the fuck trained you like this?” he growled, the symapthy instantly vanishing into a dark, protective fury. “How many times have you done this, huh?”

Your own eyebrows furrowed in a defensive shield. His entire ftame was looming over you, completely clouding your thoughts and making it hard to think straight. You reached up, removing his hand from your face. “That is absolutely none of your business—”

His entire posture changed as the anger morphed into a heavy gravity. His eyes dropped to your arms first then followed to your midriff before snapping back to your face. “Who gave you those scars?”

“What?” Your eyes widened in pure horror, the air instantly taken right out of your lungs. This cannot be happening, your voice echoed inside your mind. He could not know. You could not let him see that vulnerable, broken piece of your past. “Thor, this is ridiculous. Let me go—”

You tried pushing him away again, your chest heaving in absolute desperation to break free from his hold. But he only used his mass to pin you into the door even more, his gaze intensely determined as his hand found your jaw once again, holding you still.

He was going to find out who those fuckers were, and he was going to make them pay. He didn't fully understand why he had this overwhelming, primitive urge to protect you, but he did, and he was going to deliver on it.

“Please, Little Flame,” he murmured, his voice dropping into a desperate plea. “Are they the same people who trained you?—”

“Why do you even want to know?!” you cried out, your voice finally cracking with deep pain. Tears instantly began brewing in your eyes, blurring his handsome face. He couldn't know. If he found out, he was going to use that knowledge against you. He was going to taunt you with it during your next argument, break you with your own nightmare of a history. He was going to make sure he hurt you, just like he did every single time he managed to get a glimpse of something personal about you. He was going to break your heart completely in half and toss it away.

He was going to, because he was the only person in the universe who actually had the power to do it.

“So you can torture me more?” you whispered, your voice shaking as a single tear escaped down your cheek.

Thor’s breath got caught in his throat. A sudden, physical pain pierced his chest, wrapping around his heart so tightly that he let out a sharp huff of air. It was a pain so great, so profoundly agonizing, that it started burning through his lungs before radiating all the way out to his fingertips.

Is this truly what you thought of him?

He knew he taunted you. He knew he did everything in his being to annoy you on a daily basis. He knew he wasn't your friend, and that you both claimed to dislike each other. But he had never, in his wildest dreams, thought you could actually think him capable of causing you real, deep-rooted pain.

A fierce, protective fire burned brightly behind his blue eyes as he leaned down, his lips practically brushing your temple as he spoke.

“So that I can torture them first as they did you,” he vowed, his voice low, terrifyingly dark promise that vibrated against your skin. “And then permanently remove them from existence.”

Your angelic face twisted into a look of deep, utter confusion. What the hell was he talking about? Why on Earth would he want to do something like that for you?

Thor’s hand softened on your jaw, his thumb gently wiping away the tear on your cheek with a heartbreaking amount of tenderness. He looked down at you, his pupils blown wide with an unyielding devotion. “No... I have a better idea. I am going to tear down whatever sanctuary they think they have, drag them to the deepest pits of Hel myself, and hand-deliver a punishment that will last for eternity. No one touches you, Little Flame. Never again.”

Your heart stuttered at his words, newfound tears completely blocking your vision now at being on the receiving end of them. He sounded so profoundly sincere, so entirely full of devotion that it made your stomach flutter wildly and your heart sing with a bittersweet ecstasy.

Why was he being this protective over you? Was it just because of your mission? Has he started to actually believe the lie, to believe you were truly his wife? And why did you believe every single word he said without an ounce of your usual skepticism?

How was he making your heart soar like this? Why did he have so much power over you, over your poor, guarded heart? Why did he have to be this perfect?

Why did you love him so much?

You gasped aloud as the intrusive thought took the remaining breath away from your lungs. You loved him. You were completely, undeniably in love with him. You were in love with the man who mocked you, annoyed you, tortured you with his words. You were in love with the man you claimed to dislike for all these years.

And that realization only made you cry harder, the tears spilling over your lashes because you were entirely convinced he was never going to love you back.

“I—” you started, trying to find your voice, but a heavy, broken sob ripped through your chest instead.

Thor's face immediately fell into an expression of deep, agonizing concern. His blue eyes searched your face frantically as he wrapped his massive arms around you, pulling you securely against his broad chest.

“Please do not cry, honey,” he murmured, his deep baritone cracking in pain.

He called you honey. He called you honey in private, in the quiet safety of your shared room, while holding you as if you were made of glass. It was so sweet, so tender, so full of an unprompted meaning. What on earth had happened to the two of you? Just hours ago, you were bitterly bickering about your morning coffee, but now you were collapsed in his arms, crying simply because he wanted to protect you.

Nobody did that for you. Nobody had ever said they would protect you, because they always expected you to handle it yourself. They knew what you were capable of; they knew you were lethal.

Nobody ever thought you would need someone else to do your bidding for you.

His large hand moved to the back of your head, his thick fingers gently stroking through your hair as he spoke, his voice dropping into a raspy whisper. “Darling, are you crying because of me?” He swallowed hard, his voice cracking again. “Do you truly think I mean to harm you? Do you think so little of me?”

You sobbed, your fingers clutching desperately onto the fabric of his shirt, burying your face into his chest.

“I’m begging you, do not cry,” he gulped, his own chest heaving as he held you tighter. “It... it hurts me.”

“I had been nothing but a laboratory experiment to them,” you finally choked out, the confession tearing out of your throat.

Thor froze instantly, his entire muscular body stiffening beneath your touch.

Slowly, you tilted your head up, your chin resting against his chest. Your lashes were damp with heavy tears that still kept falling silently down your cheeks. Thor’s hand gently cupped your face, his thumb catching the moisture, his eyes entirely locked onto yours as he listened with a quiet focus.

“They didn’t see a young woman,” you whispered, your throat tightening painfully as your grip on his shirt tightened. “They only saw a lab rat. A nameless object to be broken, tested, and rebuilt. I remember the cold steel of the table. I remember begging and begging... crying until my eyes bled, but they just kept on going.”

Thor’s blue eyes darkened into a midnight so black it looked like a brewing storm. A terrifying rage formed deep within him—a rage so massive and destructive that he felt he could destroy all of humanity just to see the lingering pain disappear from your eyes.

“Who are they?” He demanded, and your eyes closed in despair.

Should you tell him? Should you let him be a part of the darkest corners of your past?

Should you trust him?

“Darling, please tell me,” he begged, his voice trembling with a restrained fury as he looked down at you. “Who did this to you?”

Your throat tightened, your pulse fluttering at his gentle words and protective tone. You sighed opening your eyes, “They were a faction I later discovered to be the vile, lingering remnants of Hydra.”

Thor saw pure red. His throat tightened to the point of suffocation at the horrific image of you at the mercy of those monsters—being tortured, crying, entirely helpless.

“I need names,” he growled softly, the air in the room turning heavy with static.

“I don’t have names—”

“I will find names.”

“I don't know if you can, Thor, it was years—”

“I will,” he cut you off, his tone leaving absolutely no room for argument. He brought his other hand to your cheek, tilting your face up just a fraction. “Keep going, honey.” His voice was incredibly gentle for you, even as the undercurrent of his rage thrummed through his veins. He could barely bear to listen to the atrocities you had survived, but he had to. You were finally opening up to him, and he would listen to you until the end of time.

You gulped, trying to steady your breathing. “At the time, they were desperate, trying to replicate the lost Super Soldier serum using volatile cosmic energy signatures they barely understood.” You let out another shaky sob, and Thor immediately rubbed your back in slow, soothing circles, offering you every ounce of comfort his massive frame could provide. “More needles inserted into my skin... more radiation pumped into my veins, all for the sake of a twisted immortality.”

You held him tighter, closing your eyes against the memories. “And once they realized what they had created, they turned me into a ghost. An assassin. They forced me—forced me to do horrific, bloody things, Thor. I hurt so many people.” You opened your eyes, looking up at him with an unbearable vulnerability. “I did horrible, horrible things.”

The tears came faster now, the weight of your past crushing you as you sobbed uncontrollably against him. “I never wanted to do any of those things... they made me, I swear they made me, and they hurt me to make me do it—”

“Shh, sweetheart,” Thor interrupted softly, his voice thick with emotion as he clutched you even tighter against his heart, burying his face into your hair, his nose nudging your scalp as he did so. “None of this is your fault. Look at me.” He pulled back just enough to cup your face with both of his massive hands, gently forcing you to look up into his striking blue eyes. “None of it is your fault.”

“I am the one who did all of it—” Your voice cut off as another wave of tears streamed down your cheeks. It was like a dam had permanently broken in your chest, and there was absolutely no stopping it now. You were crying for the stolen years, crying for the innocent lives your hands had been forced to take, crying because you felt completely stripped bare and vulnerable—but most of all, you were crying because you loved him.

“I told you it is not your fault, sweetheart,” he said, his tone turning fiercely stern, leaving no room for you to argue with him. “You were kidnapped. Tortured.” He gulped like it was a great pain to say these words, “Your whole life was altered by monsters. You were made to do all of it.” His own voice grew heavy with sadness as he looked at your tears. “You did nothing wrong. You were just trying to survive, honey.”

“I’m so glad Steve and Tony saved me,” you whispered, your throat burning. “I... I don’t know what I’d do if it wasn't for them.”

At the mention of their names, Thor felt his chest tighten with a sharp, unexpected pang. Who else on the team knew the full extent of this? Steve and Tony, definitely. Natasha? You two were close; you would have told her. Bucky? Bruce? Clint? Was he truly the only person who had been left completely in the dark?

And to think he had called you gloomy.

A heavy cloak of regret settled over his shoulders. It was all true—everything he had confessed to Alejandro and Valentin at the table. He had thought you were the most breathtakingly beautiful woman he had ever seen the moment you walked into the compound years ago. But he had fucked it all up by opening his mouth and saying you looked gloomy. Would the two of you be any different right now if he hadn't used that stupid word?

“I am sorry,” he mumbled, the unexpected words catching your attention through the haze of your crying. He looked down at you, his eyes pained. “So fucking sorry I called you gloomy. Truly sorry. Can you—” He gulped hard, his chest heaving. “Can you forgive me?”

“I...” You trailed off, staring up at him in utter disbelief. Where the hell was this coming from? The walls around your heart instantly tried to slam back up. “Do you pity me now? Is that it?” you asked, your tone shifting into something sharp and defensive.

Thor’s eyes widened in immediate panic. “No—not pity. Towards you at least, never. I pity myself.”

“What does that even mean—”

“I meant every single word I said back there at the table,” he said softly, his thumbs tenderly grazing your cheeks to wipe away the fresh tears.

Your heart gave a violent flutter against your ribs, but it felt entirely too good to be true. You couldn't let yourself fall for a beautiful lie. “Do not mock me, Thor—”

“I would never.”

Your eyebrows went straight up, your expression clearly stating the obvious. He loved mocking you. He made it his absolute daily mission to get under your skin and irritate you to death.

Thor scrunched his face up at your look, a soft, self-deprecating sigh escaping his lips. “On this matter, I mean. I would never, ever mock you on a matter such as this, Little Flame.”

You scoffed, quickly averting your eyes from the intensity of his gaze. “Now you're just being cruel, big guy—“you tried to pry yourself off him, but one of his hands holding your face descended to your waist and circled it tightly.

“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met in my thousands of years alive.”

Your eyes widened with shock as they snapped back to meet his. Your heart dropped straight to your stomach with a violent jolt of excitement—of pure happiness.

“I am?” you whispered, the words coming out small and fragile, like a secret you were almost too afraid to speak aloud. It felt entirely unbelievable.

“You are,” he said, nodding firmly as he looked down at you.

There was something profoundly pure swirling in his deep blue eyes. It was a look you dared not name, because if you did, the only thing you could possibly call it would be adoration. He looked at you as if he completely and utterly adored you.

As you stared up at him, it hit you: that look was familiar.

He had always looked at you this way. Back at the compound, during your worst arguments, across the briefing table—his pupils would blow wide, a hidden mirth would dance behind his eyes, mixed with this exact same heavy, unyielding intensity. All these years, you had defensively rewritten that look as dislike, as a god looking down on an annoying mortal. Has he always looked at you with adoration in his eyes? Or were you just desperately lying to yourself now because your own walls were crumbling?

Either way, your breath was completely knocked out of you. Panic, cold and sharp, flooded your veins. You had to get away from him. You had to protect your heart, your soul, whatever was left of your sanity. You had already bared your darkest, most painful secret to him—the one thing you had specifically kept hidden from him out of fear—and you were terrified of what else you might reveal the longer you spent wrapped up in his arms.

“I—“You panicked even more as his gaze softened with that heartbreakingly tender look. You planted your palms against his chest and pushed. “I think it would be better if you let go of me now.” Thor’s expression changed, the vulnerability vanished, his eyes darkening to a stormy, dangerous hue. He had just laid his soul bare, admitting he found you more beautiful than anything in the cosmos, and now you were demanding he let you go?

“No,” he rumbled, his grip on your waist tightening rather than loosening. “Why would I do that?”

“Because I want you to—I need you to—“

“Why would you need me to do that?” he demanded, his voice dropping dangerously. “Are you that disgusted by me?”

Before you could even process the question, his expression shifted again. The anger twisted into something entirely unhinged as the green-eyed monster clawed ruthlessly at his insides, blinding him with an irrational fury.

“So you will gladly get close to that bastard at the bar, let his filthy hands touch your skin, but you cannot bear to have me hold you?”

Your mouth parted as you looked at him with pure, unyielding disbelief. “What on earth are you on about? Why do you keep talking about him like I'm actually into him—“

“Are you?” he fiercely cut you off.

He leaned down further, his eyes agressively scanning every inch of your face, his hot breath fanning across your lips. It made your breath hitch painfully in your throat. His completely irrational, wild behavior was forcing you to consider a reality you shouldn't. Something you would have never dared to think of just moments ago. Was he jealous?

Was he actually fucking jealous?

A dangerous spark of defiance flared up inside your chest. “What if I am?” you pushed, tilting your chin up to challenge him. “You cannot be,” he said, a flash of pure, territorial anger burning hot behind his eyes. “I will not let you. You are—you—“ He stammered, his usual booming eloquence completely deserting him as his gaze furiously swept over your face, desperately trying to decipher if you actually harbored any feelings for that fucker.

You smiled daringly up at him. You knew you probably looked absolutely wicked right now, with your smudged mascara, your flushed cheeks, and that fierce, determined look in your eyes.

“Are you jealous, big guy?” you whispered.

Your hands, which had been resting on his chest, began trailing upwards to his neck seductively. You didn't even have control over your own body anymore; it was like some primal instinct had taken over and you had to do this. You had to break him. You had to get him to confess. You felt entirely insane—just seconds ago, you were panicking and trying to push him away, and now you were mindlessly feeling him up, loving the power you had over him. Fuck.

Thor felt his heartbeat fasten against his ribs. His arm around your waist constricted, pulling you so close that there wasn't a single shred of air left between your bodies, his jaw locking hard in place. He knew exactly what you were doing. You were playing with fire on purpose. He made a ‘pfft’ sound, “I am not—“ he tried, desperately attempting to lie straight to your face.

“I think you are, honey,” you purred, leaning in until your breath fanned directly over his lips, your thumb lazily circling the heated skin at the nape of his neck. Even his neck was hot, for god's sake. It was thick and masculine. He was so masculine. His eyes immediately drifted down to your lips again, his resolve crumbling. “I am not. I simply... I wish to protect you because you are my teammate—“

“Oh, so I should just go back down to the bar and find him, then?” you pushed ruthlessly. You tilted your head, feigning complete innocence with your wide, tear-bright eyes.

He huffed, utterly furious at the mere suggestion. “Absolutely not. You are not leaving this damn room without me by your side.”

Your wicked smile widened. “Why not?” you purred, your face moving a fraction closer until your lips almost brushed his jaw. “I could touch him like this...” Your hands drifted down from his neck, sliding over the heavy planes of his chest down to his massive biceps, making his muscles instantly twitch under your fingertips. “I could kiss him like I did you, just minutes ago—“

Thor couldn't take it a single second longer.

His lips slanted over yours, ruthlessly cutting your sentence and your breath off. He pulled you even closer toward him, holding you like you were his absolute lifeline, pressing you so tight against his broad, muscular frame that it felt like your bodies were becoming one. You kissed him back passionately, completely losing yourself in the intoxicating heat of it. Your hands flew up to find his rough cheeks, and you pushed yourself up on your tiptoes, pressing your lips hungrily onto his.

He bit your lower lip with a sudden, needy sharpness, then stopped. He reluctantly moved his head away just a few inches, his breathing heavy and ragged as he whispered against your mouth, “You are not to kiss anyone but me.” His thumb came up, grazing over your throbbing lower lip. “Stop it, alright?” he whispered, then pecked your lips.

“Why—“

He pecked your lips again, roughly cutting you off, and then growled the confession right into your mouth: “Because I am fucking jealous, okay honey?”

He kissed you again, and you actually smirked straight into the kiss. The absolute victory of making a literal god admit defeat made your heart soar into the stratosphere. You pulled back though your lips were still grazing his, whispering wickedly against his mouth, “What was that?”

He pecked your lips again, desperate, heavy, and completely surrendered to you. “I have been burning with jealousy since I saw him lay his filthy eyes on you. I do not know what is wrong with me, but I—” He gulped hard, his large thumb slowly gliding over your flushed cheek. “I am consumed by it.”

A breathless, giddy giggle escaped your lips then. “Okay, big guy.”

He was jealous. The King of Asgard was completely, undeniably jealous, and he had just admitted it to you in the dark of your room. Oh god, you were losing your mind—and you never wanted to find it again.

But one question prodded at your mind before he made it all disappear with a fierce kiss, why was he jealous in the first place?

But you were not in your right mind. Because Thor wasn’t kissing you like a normal kiss. He was inhaling you, and it was already lighting you on fire.

The height difference was clearly bothering him as much as it was bothering you. Feeling the strain, Thor lowered himself just a bit before sliding his hands under your thighs, effortlessly lifting you completely off the floor, making your dress ride up. Your arms immediately circled around his thick neck—the very same neck you had been dying to strangle just hours ago—and you let out a soft moan directly into his mouth as his hands slipped up from your thighs to find your ass, squeezing your cheeks tightly as he pinned you securely against his massive frame. You moaned into his mouth, not being able to help it.

A hand left your ass and wrapped around your neck, while the other moved back to your waist to securely hold you, angling your face to kiss you as deeply as he wanted. His tongue pressed over yours as he walked himself backward into the bedroom. The kiss was heated, so full of passion you felt your insides burn with it. His kisses descended to your jaw, then to your neck as he hummed in deep appreciation. What were you doing kissing Thor, of all people? What were you doing letting Thor take you to bed, of all people?

But the thought couldn't even fully form as he bit down on your neck, making you whine in pain.

“Thor—” you begged, without knowing what it was you were begging for.

— “Yes?” he rumbled against your skin as he licked the sensitive spot on your neck, then he laid you over the mattress, settling his heavy body over you. He massaged your hips as he settled himself deeply between your legs. You spread them wide to accommodate him, and felt it poking hard against your thigh.

His cock, thick and hard, was somehow bigger than you had imagined—and you hadn’t been thinking small.

“Guess we don't have to fight over who gets the bed anymore,” you quipped, your voice breathless, trying to find a defense in your usual wit.

It made him chuckle, a low vibration against your chest. “I guess not,” he whispered, then took your lips again. This kiss was softer than before, slowly dismantling you as his lips glided over yours. Then he pressed his hips heavily against your core, making you whine out loud.

“Do you feel that?” He pulled your upper lip between his teeth, smiling slightly into the heat of your face. “It’s what you do to me. Ever since we landed here, I’ve be walking around so hard I was worried you’d see it. But no.” He kissed one corner of your mouth, then the other. “You’re oblivious, aren’t you, honey?”

He found you that attractive?

You hummed, tipping your head back in complete surrender. Thor groaned, dragging his lips over a throbbing pulse point, letting his tongue flick against the sensitive skin of your throat. “You like that too,” he grunted, his breath hot in your ear. “You like being the one person that gets me going, that makes me lose it. No one else, my Little Flame.”

He held your hips again and pushed your ass forward, locking you in place so your clit was pushed tightly against the thick hardness of him through the fabric. A long moan escaped your lips, and you dropped your face into his shoulder, completely undone.

Thor grunted, rutting forward, and it was so fucking hot you couldn't think past it. The deep drawl of his voice in your ear, the impossible strength of him around you—it was intoxicating. The clothing added a desperate, heavy extra friction, his fingers digging into your hips.

“Just you,” he thrusted forward against your core, squeezing your ass tightly with his other hand. “Only you, sweetheart. So beautiful and sassy, driving me insane—“

You whimpered as Thor made a low, ragged sound, taking a deep, shaky breath against your hair. His hand then slipped into your panties, his deft fingers dragging down to tease right against the already damp drip of your pussy. His fingers started circling your clit, a thick dampness forming immediately down there under his torturously perfect touch. “Please—” you cried out, your hips bucking up instinctively against his hand, begging for him to end this perfect torture.

“Please what, honey?i Thor rasped, his touch growing heavier, more demanding as he felt your walls slick and trembling for him. “Tell me exactly what you want me to do to you”

“I want you,” you gasped out as he inserted his middle finger inside you—and fuck, even his finger was incredibly large.

“Not enough, sweetheart,” he grumbled, pressing his thumb firmly down onto your clit, making you squirm and twitch helplessly in place beneath his weight.

“What do I have to say—“

“I said tell me exactly what you want, did I not?” he rumbled, suddenly moving his finger deep inside you, rhythmically fucking you with it. You whined loudly at the overwhelming friction, your hands locking onto his massive biceps and squeezing hard enough to leave marks. “I want you to—“ you gasped, your vision blurring. “I want you to fuck me... no, I need you to fuck me. Please.”

You were completely reduced to begging him. In response, his fingers slicked deeper as he added his ring finger into your heat, stretching you beautifully, but then he stopped abruptly.

There was simply too much extra fabric from your midi dress crumpled up in his way.

Your eyebrows furrowed, the sudden loss of momentum leaving you aching and confused. “What is it?”

He didn't respond with words. Instead, his large hands slid down to your lower back, his knuckles brushing your bare skin as his fingers found the zipper of your dress.

Your blood ran completely cold in an instant. Your whole body stiffened up beneath him, every single muscle locking tight.

Your scars.

Other people, other agents, had seen them on the battlefield or during training, and you had never felt bad about it. But this was Thor. You knew he had caught a fleeting glimpse of them at the pool earlier, but he hadn't truly seen all of them. He hadn't seen the worst of them. And this was not a public pool, was it? This was intimate. This was completely private. Which meant he would have all the time in the world to analyze them with his eyes, more time to realize how broken your body really was, more time to get disgusted by them—

The heavy weight of his hand cupped your jaw, covering it completely and instantly grounding you, cutting your spiraling thoughts short. “What is it?” he asked softly, his blue eyes searching yours in the dim light. “What's wrong, Little Flame?”

You gulped hard, helplessly averting your eyes from his intense stare. “I—I don't know about this...”

“Do you want to stop?” he asked immediately, completely freezing, his hand instantly lifting away from the zipper of your dress without hesitation.

“No!” you scrambled out desperately. Your eyes snapped back to find his, and you saw deep confusion in them.

How could he not be confused? You probably looked completely insane to him right now. First you were kissing him like there was no tomorrow, then you were begging him to take you, then you were voicing a doubt, but you were still fiercely refusing to stop. You were goddamn confusing.

You closed your eyes, a wave of shame washing over you. “It's just that I...” You swallowed hard. “I don't think I should remove my dress.”

His eyebrows furrowed deeply. “But I want to feel you. I do not understand,” he said, getting more perplexed by the second.

You huffed, unable to meet his eyes. “My scars... they are not pleasant to look at, Thor.”

“You do not know what is pleasant to my eyes or not,” he countered instantly, his deep voice carrying an unyielding certainty that took you completely aback.

“But—“

“I find you attractive. I find your scars attractive. I find every single part of you breathtakingly attractive,” he said, his tone dropping into a fierce vow as his hand found the track of your zipper once again. He didn't pull it, he just waited, asking for your trust. “Please let me see you, darling,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over yours, his warm breath intoxicating. “So that I can witness your beauty. So that I can show you exactly how much I love your scars, how much I love every part of you.”

Your eyes were wide, your heart beating so fast and hard against your ribs it felt painful. Should you actually let him?

This was Thor, for god's sake. He was never the nicest person to you—

But was he not?

A sudden rush of memories flooded your brain, completely reframing the last few years. He always looked out for you on dangerous missions, shielding your blind spots. Even though he irritated you daily, he always helped you carry heavy equipment crates—though not before he smugly made you cave in and admit you couldn't do it yourself, just like he did with your suitcases. He had caught you by the waist every single time you tripped. His eyes had always, always been tracked onto you in every room. And tonight, he had called you the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his thousands of years of life, before literally threatening to crush a man's skull for disrespecting you.

So no. He had never been rude to you. He had always been good to you. He annoyed you, sure, but he was so goddamn protective and sweet to you in his own annoying and loud way, and you had somehow just noticed it. How the hell did you just notice it?

Your chest was heaving heavily as you made your final decision, the remaining walls around your heart completely collapsing.

“Okay,” you whispered, nodding your head against the pillow.

Thor smiled then—a soft, blindingly beautiful smile that made him look younger, happier. His lips easily found yours again in a deep, reassuring kiss as his hand slowly, smoothly slid the zipper all the way down, gently removing the white dress from your body and leaving nothing between you but the heat of his skin.

You were now left in your white bra and panties, his gaze burning your skin as he looked all over you. His heart soared at the sight of you, but he felt a sharp pang of pain in his chest at the scars littering your skin. They were a lot more than he thought, but gods, they only made you more attractive to him. A strong woman, with the face of an angel and the body of a goddess—you were always meant to be his undoing.

His fingers grazed a thin line along your ribs as his mind echoed fiercely, She is beautiful, and I am going to make them pay for hurting her, all of them.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you squirmed, a faint trace of your old discomfort resurfacing.

Instead of drawing back, he leaned over your body, his face level with your stomach as his large hands gently grabbed your sides, anchoring you. And then, he lowered his head and kissed one of the most visible, ragged scars you had near your hip.

“You are beautiful. Truly a goddess... one fit for me,” he muttered against your skin, before kissing the mark again.

Your breath hitched, your head spinning into a daze. That specific scar was from the most lethal trauma you had ever endured. You had almost died that day; in fact, you had hoped to die that day just to escape. But your captives had found a way to keep you alive, using brutal, advanced procedures to permanently bind your altered biology together. Tears welled up in your eyes, your vision blurring for the second time that night. To see him kiss it like that—so tenderly, with so much reverence—made something warm and heavy fill your chest. It was like a fractured part of you was finally feeling whole again.

I love him, your mind screamed at you for the second time that day. Your right hand instinctively found his rough cheek, your fingers tangling in his beard as he kept kissing your scars. One left from needles being inserted into the exact same place dozens of times; one left from a failed escape attempt on a mission they sent you on, a punishment for not obeying... He was kissing every single one of them.

And while his lips hovered over the worst one near your hip again, you finally whispered, “I almost died when I got that one.”

His head immediately whipped up, his heart tightening painfully in his chest at your words. “What?” he asked, his throat closing in, his blue eyes blazing with an intense, dark focus.

“They used a plasma blade to slice me open during a combat stress-test,” you whispered, the memory making your voice shake. “They wanted to see how fast the cosmic energy in my blood would knit the flesh back together while I was conscious. I begged them to just let me bleed out.”

Thor’s hold on your sides violently tightened, his knuckles turning white and his jaw locking so hard a muscle strove in his cheek. “I am going to make them pay, Little Flame." he said his voice determined, "I am going to avenge you. They are going to feel the wrath of the God of Thunder, be sure of that. No one, and I mean no one, gets away with hurting you.”

He turned his head toward the hand holding his cheek, shifting slightly to press a deep, lingering kiss against the inside of your wrist, right over your pulsing vein, like he wanted to be sure you were alive. Like he needed reassurance of your well being after your confession. He could not bear the thought of you in pain, but death? You on the brink of death? His poor heart could not take it. “I do not know what you did to me, sweetheart, but you—” he gulped, his eyes locked on yours, “you have a hold on me that no one else ever did. That no one else ever could.”

He leaned up, his chest heaving against yours. “I cannot help it. I cannot help but be jealous, I cannot help but be protective, possessive... I just can't help it. You have completely bewitched me.”

Your breathing fastened as your heart fluttered wildly in your chest at his words. What did he mean? How was he talking like this? He couldn't love you, you knew that—you were just deeply flawed partners on a mission—but a part of your soul soared at the fact that he harbored these intense, desperate urges for you. Even if it wasn't love, he felt for you with a terrifying depth.

When his large hands moved down to remove your white bra, you reached up and caught his wrists, tsking him with a breathless smirk. “Don't you think you're being a bit unfair, big guy? It's your turn.”

Your hands found his collar, pulling his heavy frame down to your lips. You kissed him deeply, pouring all your hidden, aching feelings into it, while your shaky fingers began working on the unbuttoning of his shirt. Your hands were trembling with excitement and the weight of your feelings for him. When you finally removed your lips from his, you let out a frustrated huff, looking down at the fabric because your frantic fingers couldn't unbutton them fast enough.

Thor just chuckled, a rumbling sound against your chest. He took matters into his own hands, gripping the shirt and casually pulling it over his head with one smooth motion, tossing it blindly across the room.

“Oh fuck... you honestly are a god,” you whispered, taking him in fully. His biceps were literally the size of your head, his pecs perfectly sculpted, his abs defined and casting shadows in the dim light—he was going to be the absolute death of you.

He chuckled again, clearly enjoying your completely awestruck expression, and immediately took it to his advantage. His large hand slid behind your back, and with a single, practiced flick of his fingers, he unclasped your bra in a second.

You gasped in bewilderment, snapping your eyes up to meet his. “You sly fox,” you said, a wicked smirk returning to your lips.

He just held your bra up for a brief second like a captured banner of war, a triumphant smile lighting up his handsome face, before he tossed it away. Turning all of his massive, heavy attention back to you, his mouth immediately latched onto your right breast, his tongue swirling hot against your skin while his large hand slid down past your stomach to find your crotch.

“Ohmygod,” you gasped out in one breath.

His fingers hooked into the edge of your panties, sliding them down your hips before giving a firm, playful slap against your inner thigh. “Get your legs up for me, honey, so I can get these off,” he grunted against your skin. You quickly complied, lifting your hips and helping him slide the remaining lace down your legs until you were completely bared for him.

He let go of your nipple for a second, his large hands sliding down to grip your thighs with an iron hold, settling himself deeply between them again. He spread them wide open, his gaze dropping down to your glistening center. His tongue darted out in anticipation, his eyes dark with an intense, heavy hunger.

“You look so sweet, honey. Bet you taste as sweet as you look, don't you?” he murmured to himself, his deep baritone sending a thrill straight down your spine as he kept his gaze locked between your legs.

You whined in agonizing anticipation, your hips twitching on the mattress. “Do something—oh!”

You were cut off as his thumb pressed hard against your clit, slowly dragging all the way down your slick slit, catching your juices on his skin. He lifted his hand, looking down at his wet thumb before putting it directly between his lips, sucking the moisture off as he closed his eyes.

“Oh, yes you do taste sweet. Better than I ever imagined,” he rumbled, his voice rough. He leaned down and gave your pussy a light, playful slap, the stinging heat making you whine out loud.

“Thooor—”

He hovered back over your body, his mouth immediately returning to suckle hungrily on your right nipple. At the same time, his hand slid back between your thighs, inserting his middle finger deep inside you, quickly followed by his ring finger. His thumb began circling your clit in rhythmic patterns. Your mouth fell agape, your head tossing from side to side as you moaned and moaned, your body beautifully stretched by his incredibly large fingers.

Your hands locked onto his broad shoulders, squeezing tight, the slick friction of his touch rapidly driving you toward the edge, pulling you closer to that blissful, impending high.

“'M close,” you murmured, your eyes completely dazed. You pulled his head closer, biting down on the thick skin of his neck and suckling fiercely, making the god let out a deep, gravelly groan of pleasure.

“You’re driving me insane,” he growled against your skin, his fingers moving faster, driving deep inside your tight heat. “Come on, pretty girl, make a mess on my fingers.”

The pressure kept building and building in your lower stomach until it was entirely unbearable. “I—” you gasped, your toes curling into the sheets. “I’m gonna—”

“Come on, let it go, baby,” he commanded darkly.

And then you snapped. You came hard, whining and moaning loudly as wave after wave of intense pleasure rippled through your core, your walls clamping down violently around his fingers. Thor grunted, keeping his fingers moving through your contractions, forcing every last drop of pleasure out of you until you were breathlessly begging him to stop.

Before you could even catch your breath, Thor shifted. He reached down to his waist, lowering his trousers and boxers in a single, aggressive movement. Because he was already on his knees, the fabric simply bunched up around his knees, freeing his lower half.

Your eyes widened in absolute awe at the sight. He was big. Just as you had thought, but seeing him fully bare made him look even bigger. “Oh god,” you whispered.

Thor gave his length a slow, heavy pump of his hand, precum glistening at the tip as he smeared the moisture down his thick shaft. He looked down at you, his chest heaving.

“Do we need protection? Because I don't have any—” he asked, his voice thick with restraint. “No, we don't,” you said eagerly, you were on the pill.

Pushing yourself up onto your elbows, you looked his naked torso and heavy length over with a predatory hunger. “You’re so fucking handsome it’s annoying, do you know that?” you said, biting your lower lip.

He chuckled, a smug, low sound as he settled his weight back in between your open legs. “Why, thank you, Little Flame—”

Your hand shot out, planting firmly against his massive shoulder. “Can I ride you?” Thor stopped dead in his tracks, his chest heaving, his pupils blown wide. “What?”

“Can I ride you?” you asked again, your voice completely determined.

Taking full advantage of his momentary shock, you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist, using your core to pull him down as you deftly flipped your positions. Within a second, you were sitting squarely on top of his hard stomach. His defined abs twitched beneath you, the movement grazing directly against your freshly sensitive clit, making you take a sharp breath.

“You wanna do all the work, honey?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowing as a lazy, amused smirk tugged at his lips.

“Mhm,” you hummed, your eyes dazed and hooded as you looked down at his towering chest. He chuckled, his large hands rising to rest loosely on your hips. “Are you sure? You are well aware I possess the stamina of a god.”

You rolled your eyes at his typical Asgardian arrogance. “I am aware. Can you just stop talking and—”

“Are you getting on, or not?” he interrupted, his smirk widening as he tilted his hips up just a fraction, the warm tip of his cock brushing against your entrance.

For a split second, the temptation to be difficult returned. “I am definitely reconsidering it now,” you pouted, crossing your arms over your bare chest and throwing him a defiant look.

But Thor just snorted, rolling his eyes at your stubbornness. Before you could even blink, his hands gripped your hips with terrifying strength and he lifted you up. You didn't even get a second to think before he downwardly forced your hips straight onto his thick dick, burying himself inside you all the way to the hilt.

The air was knocked completely from your lungs. Thor was so deep in you it was pushing all the thoughts out of your brain. You gaped down at him, making weak, breathless noises as your pussy pulsed and stretched beautifully around his thickness. His fingers dug deeply into your hips, the only sign that he was struggling to hold himself back from taking over completely.

“Much as I enjoy you trying to take control,” he muttered, his large hands sliding down to massage your ass with a heavy, grounding pressure, “I'd rather keep you full of me so you stop thinking.”

He reached up slowly, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You bit your bottom lip, whining at the unbearable fullness, and he chuckled, settling his upper body fully into the pillows. Your hands found his chest, your fingers grabbing firmly onto his broad pectorals for balance. “Ride it, baby,” he ordered, his voice a low, gravelly command.

And god help you, you tried. You caught your breath after a long moment that felt like an eternity and started to roll your hips. Thor groaned, his heavy eyelids fluttering as your tight heat dragged over his length, but he deliberately didn't help you yet. His hands remained firm on your body, forcing you to use every ounce of your strength to grind down onto his dick.

Your movements accidentally pushed him right against that sensitive, gooey spot inside of you, and you faltered with a long, broken moan. You shifted, forcing his thick head right against it again, and he let out a sharp breath, though he still didn't take the reins. “Uhh—” you whined, your head spinning.

“Feels good, does it not?” he cooed, his cock throbbing heavily inside you. “Nice and big, filling up your pussy so good.”

You moaned, your hips bucking instinctively. Thor grunted, thrusting up just slightly to meet you, and you tipped your head back as a shiver ran down your spine. The friction was incredible. For a second, back arched and thighs aching, you actually managed to find a rhythm. It started slow, rolling and pushing Thor’s cock right where you wanted it.

You looked down at him, sweaty and utterly adoring beneath you. His hands wandered over your skin, his breathing ragged and his lips parted as he watched you take him.

“That's a good girl,” he muttered, his blue eyes blown wide. “There you go, My Star.” He continued, “My beautiful fucking Star, so good for me are you not?”

You keened at the praise, your pace moving faster. Your knees were growing weak from the exertion, but the desperate need inside you was so much stronger. You bounced on Thor’s dick, grabbing at his chest and gasping for air as his sheer size split you open over and over again.

Looking down at his bare chest, his defined pecs looked absolutely delicious in the dim light. You had to take a bite, didn't you? Lowering your upper body flat against his chest, you leaned down and bit down on his left breast, hard. Thor groaned loudly, his abs flexing hard beneath you. “What are you—” he gasped.

You didn't answer, simply licking over the damp mark you had just left before kissing over it mindlessly. Pushing yourself back up, your hands found their place on his heaving chest again, meeting his eyes which were burning with an unhinged desire.

But it wasn't enough. You didn't possess the extra stamina or strength of a god, and he was just too big. You were so overwhelmed by pleasure that your body was starting to forget how to move properly. Every wet, obscene sound echoing in the room made you glance down at where he was disappearing inside of you—the way your slick was heavily coating his cock when you pulled up, and the heavy weight of his balls slapping against your ass every time you dropped back down.

You only got hornier, wanting nothing more than to just let go and allow your eyes to cross and toes to curl, but you couldn't find the pace to get over the edge. You couldn't cum. The frustration built up until pathetic, fat tears started streaming down your cheeks.

”Aw, baby, why are you crying?” Thor murmured, his voice laced with a gentle mockery. Fully aware of the fact that you couldn't reach the finish line by yourself, he reached up, brushing your tears away with his thumb while a tiny, knowing smirk played on his lips.

You let out a frustrated sob, shaking violently above him as your legs finally grew too weak to sustain the weight. You collapsed forward, just squirming uselessly against his lap now, blinking through wet lashes at his teasing, lazy smile. “You can't get there all alone, can you?” he purred, gripping your waist tightly and slamming his hips up into you.

You made a choked, high-pitched sound as the sudden force rattled your entire frame. “That's right, pretty girl. Just a total mess on my cock."

“Ple—please—“ you blubbered, completely spent, your upper body collapsing weakly over Thor’s broad chest. “God, Thor—please—“

“Aw. Begging so pretty.” He leaned up and pressed a tender, lingering kiss to your wet forehead. “How could I ever say no to you, huh?”

Without another word, Thor gripped your hips and effortlessly lifted you off his cock, twisting you onto your back as he sat up. You were shoved down into the mattress, your head pressed deeply into the cushions. His massive hands locked onto your hips, dragging you down the bed toward him, completely manhandling you. His right hand moved to the inside of your left thigh, pushing it wide open to expose your dripping core to the cool air of the room.

“Such a mess,” Thor rumbled, his eyes dark as he ran the thick head of his cock between the lips of your pussy, letting it press heavily against your swollen clit before lining it right back up at your entrance.

He slid in slowly, filling you back up until your eyes rolled back in your head. Bringing his upper body over yours, his left hand found your right leg, pushing it all the way up to your chest. He was impossibly deeper at this angle, stretching you to your absolute limits.

You tried to press your hand over your mouth to muffle your pathetic, undone sounds, but Thor tutted softly. With his left hand, he firmly wrapped his fingers around your wrist and pulled your hand away, pinning it to the mattress. He bottomed out completely, a deep groan ripping from his chest as he bit your earlobe.

His hand found its way to your thigh and kept your legs pinned high next to your breasts as he began to move, his brutal, unyielding pace making you instantly see stars. Every heavy thrust sent a shockwave through your body, your hips bouncing uncontrollably against the mattress.

Thor moved his head back just a little, looking down at where your bodies joined, and grunted in deep, possessive approval. He caught your jaw in his hand, his fingers anchoring you as he fucked you hard. “Want to see how good we fit, pretty girl?”

You couldn't even catch a goddamn breath, but you nodded frantically. He let go of your jaw, sliding his hand to the back of your head and gently forcing you to look down at your own lap.

It was sinful. So fucking sinful. A white, creamy ring was forming around his shaft as he ruthlessly fucked into you, and he was so goddamn right—you fit together like perfect puzzle pieces. With every single downward stroke, his heavy pelvis hit directly against your engorged, sensitive clit.

You moaned loudly, your eyebrows knitting together in pure pleasure as the visual pushed you right over the edge unexpectedly. You screamed his name as he let go of your head, his thumb brushing over your trembling lips. He didn't stop, keeping up the relentless, pounding pace, grunting your name over and over against your neck.

“Came after just a few seconds of me fucking you?” he mocked breathlessly, but he was in no better shape than you were. He looked completely disheveled, his hair wild, his jaw locked in a tight line of restraint.

He pushed his damp thumb directly into your mouth, and you blindly suckled on it, wrapping your tongue around his skin.

“Fuck,” he grunted, his blue eyes blowing wide as he finally lost his grip on his godly stamina. His hips gave one last, deep, trembling shove, pinning you flat to the bed as he came, throwing thick, hot ropes of cum deep inside you, filling you to the absolute brim. —

“Are you okay?” he whispered, his lips brushing tenderly against your knuckles.

You were having a near-impossible time keeping your eyes open, the aftershocks of the last hour leaving your limbs feeling like heavy lead, but you managed to nod lazily and offer him a soft, sleepy smile.

Thor took your hand, bringing it up to rest against his bare chest. You frowned, your brow furrowing in confusion. “What’re you doin’?” you mumbled, your exhaustion making your words barely intelligible, slurring together into a sleepy hum.

“Have to take care of you, baby,” he said, his voice so gentle it made your heart ache. He didn't wait for an answer, simply scooping you up into his arms, bridal style. Your arms instinctively circled around his thick neck, and you rested your heavy head against his shoulder as he carried you into the bathroom.

After he helped you clean up with a patience that was entirely uncharacteristic of the man you’d known for years, he carried you back to the bed. He kissed your forehead with lingering reverence as he laid you down, then slid under the covers next to you, pulling you into his embrace until your head was pillowed firmly against his chest.

His heart was beating like a war drum against your ear, his large fingers trembling slightly as he pulled the thin, cool sheets up to tuck you in. He stared at the ceiling, lost in the terrifying shift in his own reality.

Why was he feeling like this? What had happened to the cold, arrogant dynamic you two had shared for so long? The question burned in his mind, sharp and insistent: Did you feel the same?

Unable to hold the mounting anxiety back, he mumbled, “Do you hate me?”

The question came out before he could stop it, brittle and desperate. You stiffened slightly against him, your eyes fluttering open for a brief moment. “I never hated you.”

He hummed, a low vibration in his chest. “Hm.” He shifted, his hand moving to smooth a lock of hair away from your face. “Let me phrase it like this then... do you dislike me still?”

You smiled a little bit, your face scrunching up as you looked up at him hazily, your consciousness drifting further away. You were too exhausted to put up your usual defenses, and you told him half the truth.

“Not so much.”

You leaned forward and kissed his chest without thinking, the action small and intimate, before laying your head back down. His fastened heartbeat drummed in your ears, a frantic, steady rhythm that matched your own.

Thor felt his heart give out as he finally understood what he was feeling.

He was in love with you.

He had been for years, and he was absolutely, completely doomed.

—

You woke up, breathing in deeply as you opened your eyes and stretched your arms. Your eyes widened instantly as the vivid rush of last night’s endeavors hit you.

You slept with Thor.

You quickly looked next to you, your heart ready to leap with hopeful excitement, only to see a completely empty bed. Your heart dropped straight to your stomach. A cold, suffocating weight pressed down on your chest.

Where was he? Did he regret it that much? Did he wake up, realized what he had done with someone as broken as you, and left you all alone the first thing in the morning?

Your hands and feet went completely ice-cold. Your eyes tore up, your nose burning and your throat tightening painfully with incoming tears. Regret. It was the only word screaming in your mind.

You scrambled to your feet, desperately trying to swallow down the sob threatening to break out. Moving on pure autopilot, you quickly started getting ready for breakfast, needing a mask to hide behind. Your hands shook violently as you removed the mascara stains from your cheeks and quickly applied your sunscreen. You pulled on a black strapless summer dress with vibrant pink flowers—it hugged your torso tightly before flaring out beautifully from the waist down. You placed a long-brimmed black summer hat over your hair and slid into black kitten heels. Taking a shaky, shallow breath, you made your way down to the resort’s breakfast area.

The moment you stepped into the restaurant, your blood ran cold. You did not like what you were witnessing. At all.

Thor was there, standing by the open buffet, but he wasn’t alone. There she was—the receptionist girl who had been entirely too into your so-called husband since you arrived. Her hand was resting boldly on his right bicep while he looked down at her, his head turned toward her as he smiled lightly. She was actively flirting with him, and he wasn’t pulling back. Not even after everything he had whispered to you last night. What the hell was a receptionist doing there in the first place?

A dangerous rage built inside you, jealousy brewing hot and toxic, completely melting your insides. You couldn’t help it. Even if Thor didn't want you anymore, even if last night meant nothing to him, nobody was allowed to touch him like that as long as he was playing your husband.

You made your way toward them in fast, sharp strides, the click of your kitten heels masked by the ambient chatter. You stopped directly behind the girl, your index finger tapping her shoulder with an icy firmness.

She quickly turned around, a bright, rehearsed smile on her face, but that smile instantly died the second she registered who was standing there. She was much shorter than you; from beneath the brim of your hat, you were looking down at her with pure, unyielding disdain. A wicked, lethal smile played on your lips—a look that silently screamed, 'You are going to die in ten seconds, and not even the God of Thunder can save you from your demise.'

“My love, you’re awake!” Thor boomed, his face lit up with an instant, radiant brightness the very millisecond his eyes landed on you. You flicked your gaze to him, your chest tight. What a spectacular actor, you thought bitterly.

You looked straight back at the girl. Thor’s eyebrows quickly knitted together as he registered the tension radiating from your posture. “I was just on my way to bring you breakfast—”

“Were you now?” you cut him off, your voice dangerously low, though your eyes never left the receptionist. She was already squirming and trembling under your icy glare.

“I was just—” she stammered, backing up half a step. “You were just leaving,” you cut her off ruthlessly. Then, completely unable to hold yourself back through the blinding haze of your jealousy, you coldly added, “My husband does not have a taste for servants, you know?”

Thor’s eyes widened in sheer shock. You had done the exact one thing you had warned him not to do—you had ignored manners and called her a servant.

The girl nodded frantically, her eyes wide with fear, and immediately scrambled away from Thor, nearly tripping over her own feet to escape you.

The moment she was gone, you turned away from him without giving him a second look. “Baby—” Thor started, his hand reaching out.

“Do not baby me,” you snapped, turning your head back sharply, your eyes flashing with a profound, unyielding coldness that made him freeze.

Thor’s heart dropped straight to his stomach. The sudden, icy wall you had thrown up slapper him in the face so hard he felt your finger prints on his cheek. Did you regret it? Was that what this was? Did you wake up wishing last night had never happened?

“What is going on?” he asked, his voice losing its booming confidence, an edge of panic bleeding through.

You scoffed loudly, completely ignoring his question as you moved toward the stack of plates to grab your own food. You weren't going to stand there and look pathetic. Thor quickly followed on your heels, his massive frame completely blocking out the rest of the crowded restaurant as you aggressively snatched a ceramic plate from the stack. The weight of it felt solid in your shaking fingers—a grounding contrast to the chaos roaring inside your head. He didn't care that there were other guests around; his focus was entirely locked onto you.

“Talk to me, please,” he begged again, his deep voice dropping into a whispered, desperate pitch that only you could hear. “What did I do? Why are you looking at me like that?”

You moved down the line of the open buffet, your eyes fixed forward, your jaw locked tight under the long brim of your black summer hat. You didn't even see the food.

“I look at you exactly how I should look at a partner who fails to maintain the perimeter of our cover,” you whispered coldly, your tone clipped and professional—the ultimate shield to protect your bleeding heart. “We are supposed to be happily married, Thor. Yet I walk into the dining room and find you letting the resort staff treat your bicep like a resting post. It’s sloppy. It risks the mission.”

“The mission?” Thor repeated, and you heard the sharp, pained intake of his breath. He stepped in front of you, completely cutting off your path to the pastry section, forcing you to stop. When you tried to look past him, he leaned down into your line of sight, his blue eyes wide and panicked. “You think I care about the cover right now? Honey, look at me.”

The nickname was a mocking echo of the tenderness from last night. Your eyes snapped up to his, flashing with a dangerous, icy heat. “Do not call me that.”

He felt entirely hopeless, his blue eyes burning with a raw, suffocating pain the more you talked. “Last night—“

“Let's not bring up last night. Ever,” you said, sharply turning your head away from him. You were desperate to protect your heart, to pull the shields up before he could break you completely by saying how much he regretted it.

“What?” he asked, his voice entirely breathless. His lungs felt as though they were constricting in on themselves, a pain burning him from the inside out.

But you didn't answer., you just kept walking, your hands trembling so hard that the ceramic plate in your hands shaked in your grasp. You tried to swallow the thick lump of emotion stuck in your throat, but it wouldn't budge. You loved him, and he regretted you. That was the only reality your brain could process.

You had effectively carved his heart out of his chest and stepped on it with the sharp heel of your shoes, leaving his poor heart to bleed out on the cold floor while you kept thumping it with your foot over and over again. Thor’s head was thumping, his chest feeling completely hollow as he stood frozen, looking at your retreating back. To him, the message was loud and clear: you regretted everything you had given him, while he was deeply, hopelessly in love with you.

The rest of the breakfast passed by in a torturously. You didn't speak a single word to him, and he didn't dare speak to you, far too heartbroken to even think of where to begin mending the fracture. You both just sat there at the table in a heavy, complete silence. Thor spent the entire time staring down at his large, empty hands, while you kept your eyes rigidly fixed on your plate.

After breakfast, you returned to the villa to change for the pool, pulling on a black bikini and a sheer black beach dress. You kept the long-brimmed hat firmly on your head, using it as a barrier to keep yourself from looking at him, and to keep him from looking at you to see your pained expression.

Once down at the resort pool, you settled onto your sunbed for a second before immediately scrambling away to the water, needing to escape his suffocating proximity. Your body tensed up at the first splash, but slowly relaxed as your skin got used to the cold.

It's okay, your mind echoed in a desperate chant, trying to soothe your aching heart. You already got the codes. You can get this entire mission over with tonight, and then you won't ever have to sleep in the same room with him again.

From his sunbed, Thor was watching you like a hawk. He lay there with his massive arms crossed behind his head, his jaw locked so tight the muscles in his cheek flexed repeatedly. His hands were formed into rigid fists, the static electricity in his veins making the air around his chair turn faintly heavy.

Then, the tense silence was abruptly interrupted by a woman's voice coming from next to him. “Hello there, handsome.” She was sitting on a sunbed just one row away, looking to be in her late forties with short, styled blonde hair and a sly, predatory smirk on her face.

Thor didn't even turn his torso. He just spared a brief, icy sideway glance at her before immediately snapping his eyes back to the water, tracking your swimming. “Why are you all alone?” she purred, leaning forward to get his attention. “Your spouse left you to fend for yourself like mine did?” Thor finally turned his head fully away from the pool for a brief second. “I am completely fine. Thank you for your concerns, lady,” he grumbled clearly irritated, his baritone rough and entirely uninviting.

He dismissed her instantly, turning back to look toward the deep end of the pool—only to find you staring straight back at him with a lethal, blinding fire burning hot in your eyes.

He gulped, his breath taken away.

—

After your day in the pool ended and you were back in your villa, the silence between you had grown so heavier. You finally broke it, “I am going to secure the tech tonight.” Thor's back visibly stiffened at the sound of your voice. He turned to face you slowly, his blue eyes guarded. “What do you need me to do?” he asked, his voice rough and gravelly.

You gulped, forcing your professional mask back into place. “Distract Alejandro in the VIP section while I slip away. I'll pretend to go to the bathroom, access the private vault down the hall, and once I have the drive, I'll signal you through the comms so we can leave.” He nodded briefly, his jaw flexing. “Okay,” he whispered.

The process of getting ready was done in a tense, rhythmic quiet. Thor threw on a black linen shirt and charcoal linen pants, looking effortlessly devastating. You opted for a flowy, lightweight black dress that gave you maximum mobility, pairing it with flat, elegant leather sandals—you needed to be comfortable and silent on your feet tonight.

You headed down to dinner, the atmosphere of the resort's high-end restaurant buzzing around you while you sat like ghosts. You tried to eat whatever your stomach would allow, but you had absolutely no appetite after the events of the day. Every time your eyes accidentally met his, you both looked away, shielding your wounds. Once dinner was cleared, it was time. You made your way toward the exclusive VIP lounge, immediately spotting Alejandro lounging in a velvet booth surrounded by bodyguards. You and Thor exchanged a quick, imperceptible glance, checked the small clicks of your earpieces, and nodded.

Alejandro boomed with laughter the moment he saw you approach. “My friends! Welcome, welcome!” he cried, throwing his arms wide open in his usual boisterous display.

You both forced tight, practiced smiles onto your faces. Thor stepped forward, giving the man a brief, friendly hug before turning toward the booth to sit down. Before you could even slide onto the leather cushion next to him, Thor’s large hand securely gripped your waist. Your heart instantly went completely haywire as he effortlessly lifted you and pulled you right down onto his lap.

You two had been distant all day. He had to hold you. He needed to make amends, to feel the heat of your skin against his, even if it was just under the guise of the mission. At least, that was the only excuse his desperate mind could construct if you angrly yelled at him about it later.

You smiled tightly for Alejandro's benefit, but your fingers dug with an icy, warning firmness into the back of Thor's thick neck—a silent, furious message for him to let go. But Thor didn't care. He didn't care about the silent threat as long as he got to hold you in his arms for just a second longer before this mission ended and you went back to the compound to avoid him forever. He simply tightened his grip, pulling you flush against his chest, and smiled widely at Alejandro.

Alejandro chuckled deeply at the display of affection. “Always passionate, I see.”

You turned a sickly sweet smile toward the arms dealer, leaning into the cover. “Always,” you cooed, before casually looking around the lounge. “Where is Valentin tonight?” You instantly felt Thor's fingers dig sharply into your waist, his grip turning possessive at the mention of the man he had been burning with jealousy over. Alejandro made a dismissive, ‘don't care’ gesture with his hand. “Ah, he claims he is sick. Staying in his villa tonight.”

“Oh, poor guy,” you purred, feigning deep sympathy. “I hope he gets better soon.” Thor’s fingers dug even deeper into your hip bone, a silent, growling protest that you had to actively ignore.

You endured another twenty minutes of Alejandro’s endless boasting, monitoring the guard rotation out of the corner of your eye. Finally, the hallway leading to the back offices cleared. You lightly tapped Thor’s broad shoulder, signaling him that it was time. "I need to go to the restroom, honey," you said loudly enough for the table to hear, sliding off his lap.

He didn't protest, maintaining his role, but his blue eyes burned holes straight through your frame as you walked away. The moment you turned the corner out of the lounge's line of sight, the sweet smile vanished from your face. Your heart rate spiked, breathing sharpening as you slipped into the dim, restricted corridor. Using the digital master key you had covertly cloned from the resort's mainframe, you bypassed the electronic lock on Alejandro's private office in three seconds flat. The door clicked open with a faint hiss. You slipped inside, closing it silently behind you.

The room was dark, illuminated only by the ambient glow of the resort's outdoor lights filtering through the blinds. You moved like a shadow across the plush carpet, heading straight for the ornate bookshelf on the far wall. Pressing the hidden release mechanism behind a heavy brass statue, the wall ground open to reveal a reinforced titanium safe. Your fingers flew across the keypad, inputting the encryption codes you had painfully secured earlier in the week. BEEP. The safe's heavy bolts retracted. You quickly dismanntled the failsafe and looked inside the safe.

There, resting on a velvet cushion, was a glowing, intricately carved container pulsing with a faint, dark energy—the stolen Dark Elf convergence technology. Beside it lay the encrypted flash drive containing the buyers' manifests. Your breath hitched. This was it. The culmination of hours of putting up with Thor, hours of hiding your heart, hours of surviving. You carefully wrapped the artifact in a specialized containment cloth to mask its energy signature, slipping it and the drive into the secure inner pocket of your dress.

You locked the safe, closed the hidden door, and stepped back out into the hallway, your heart hammering against your ribs. Pressing your finger to your earpiece, “Package secured. Perimeter clear. Let's mo—“ you were cut off as a heavy, sweating hand clamped brutally over your mouth from behind, and the cold steel of a gun barrel pressed hard into the side of your head. Fuck.

Back in the VIP lounge, Thor’s earpiece crackled with your voice. The sound instantly soothed his aching heart, but the relief didn't last long. You were cut off mid-word, your voice muffled into a sharp static gasp. His heart dropped straight to his stomach, cold dread instantly replacing his focus. What the fuck?

He smoothly stood up, cutting Alejandro off mid-sentence with a firm, booming laugh as he patted the man's shoulder, masking the terror roaring in his veins. "It has been an absolute pleasure, Alejandro, but my wife has been feeling quite fatigued from our travels. I must take her back to our quarters," Thor said, his tone leaving absolutely no room for argument. Before Alejandro could even protest, Thor was already walking away, his long strides carrying him down the corridor. “Little Flame? What is happening?” he whispered franticallyy into his comms, his hands trembling with a mix of fear and rising fury.

You didn't respond. The silence on the other end drove him to the edge. The second he stepped into the shadow of the back hallway, out of sight of the guests, he raised his hand. With a crackle, Stormbreaker materialized into his grip, the blue sparks already dancing along the heavy blade.

“So you were here to get to this, all along?” came Valentin's sharp, bitter voice from behind you. Thor's voice crackled instantly in your ear, low and lethal. “Is it him?” Bound by the hand over your mouth, you could only press a tight, affirmative hum into the microphone.

Valentin spoke again, his grip tightening. "The only reason why you were interested in me?" He sounded entirely wrecked, like he couldn't believe his own ego had been brokenby a spy. You gulped, trying to calculate your leverage. Sensing your shift, he cautiously removed his hand from your mouth to let you speak, keeping the gun digging into your temple. “Valentin, calm dow—“ CRACK. He ruthlessly smacked the heavy side of the gun against the side of your head. The force made your head snap to the side, a low, painful grunt ripping from your throat as your vision blurred for a split second. This motherfucker.

“Did he just fucking hit you?” came Thor's roaring voice through the comms, the nger in his tone vibrating so hard it rattled your earpiece. You quickly let out another hum, trying to mask it as a groan of lingering pain so that Valentin wouldn't realize you were on an active channel. “Are you still in the same spot?” Thor demanded, his footsteps shaking the building as he sprinted toward your coordinates. This fucker had absolutely no chance. He was dying tonight.

You hummed again in confirmation, which only served to irritate Valentin further. He grabbed your chin, turning your face toward him, forcing you to look into his wild, unhinged eyes. A crazy, desperate smile spread across his face. “I think you should give me a kiss before you go,” he whispered darkly. He closed his eyes, leaning his face directly into yours. Big mistake.

The second his eyes shut, your training took over. You threw your head back, violently slamming the crown of your skull against his nose. He staggered back with a curse, and you used the momentum to drive a sharp elbow directly into his ribs, successfully hitting the gun away from your head. You spun, sweeping your leg out to take his ankles, but Valentin was fueled by pure adrenaline; he managed to catch his balance, his face twisting in fury as he lunged forward. He slammed you back against the wall, his hand locking tightly around your neck, and pointed the gun straight at your head from the front, yelling directly into your face.

But before he could even pull the trigger—before he could do anything at all—the gun in his hand was struck by a massive, flying axe. Stormbreaker sheared the weapon completely in half, embedding itself deep into the wall with a deafening thud. “I told you to stay away from her, did I not?”

And then came hell. Thor burst through the doorway, a literal storm rolling in behind him. He didn't even use his weapon. He descended on Valentin like an enraged deity, reaching out and grabbing the man by the collar of his expensive suit. “No—“ Valentin scrambled, his face draining of all color as he looked up into the face of a god.

“You hit her, and you tried to kiss her?” Thor rumbled, his voice shaking the light fixtures above. “You are in big trouble, boy.”

With a display of raw strength, Thor hoisted him completely off the floor and slammed him ruthlessly against the concrete wall. Thor's eyes completely turned into a blinding, static blue, the white-hot electricity arcing across his shoulders and down his arms. Valentin desperately pleaded for his life, gasping for air, but Thor was entirely deaf to it.

You slid down to the floor, clutching your throbbing head, watching the entire scene unfold in awe. Thor grabbed Valentin by the neck, lifting him higher, and delivered two brutal, bone-crushing punches straight to his jaw. Then, with a dark, final grunt of fury, he let the lightning loose. A massive burst of pure electricity fried Valentin instantly, dropping his lifeless body to the floor in a smoking heap. Oops.

The room went quiet, save for the faint hum of residual static. Thor immediately spun around, the terrifying god of war instantly vanishing the moment his eyes landed on you. He rushed to his knees at your side, his large hand gently but firmly holding your jaw, tilting your head up to assess the dark bruising swelling near your temple.

You tried to pull away slightly, the intensity of his focus making your chest tighten. “I'm fine,” you muttered. But your heart was beating erratically in your chest, completely overwhelmed by the unhinged protectiveness he had just shown. He had literally killed a man for putting a hand on you. He was fussing over you like you were the most precious thing in the universe. Was he really the same guy you thought regretted everything this morning?

Seeing the deep, pained expression of guilt and fear swirling in his blue eyes, you let out a soft sigh, your voice softening. “I heal fast, remember?” Thor cleared his throat, his thumb lingering against your jaw for one more second before he reluctantly nodded and let you go.

He helped you up and you both quickly slipped out of the room, heading out into the humid night air. You sprinted back to the villa, throwing your clothes into your luggage in a silent rush, before moving stealthily toward the designated extraction point in the cliffs. Once outside in the dark, Thor held Stormbreaker high into the sky, the Bifrost roaring down in a blinding beam of rainbow light, swallowing you both whole.

—

It has been two days since you came back, and you and Thor were completely ignoring each other. It was obvious to everyone else in the compound; it was the exact polar opposite of what you guys were always like. Normally, you kept riling each other up because you secretly loved it. You yelled at each other, threatened each other daily, but you were always together, attached at the hip like some dysfunctional shadow.

Now? He let you have your morning coffee without a single fuss. You let him be whenever he talked like the booming Asgardian he is, not even bothering to roll your eyes. You weren't even in the same room unless it was absolutely necessary to begin with; either you or Thor would leave the second the other walked in. It was an undeniable fact that youwere both desperately staying away from each other.

And you missed him. You missed the way he riled you up, missed the way he smiled down at you with that smug but inexplicably sweet expression on his face... you missed him so much it hurt your very soul. Natasha had quietly asked about it, Tony made a few mocking jokes, Steve only silently analyzed you two with a furrowed brow, and Scott? Well, Scott wasn't really aware of anything going on. But Rocket had literally yelled, “Why the hell are you two not fighting?!” at the both of you in the kitchen yesterday. You had only turned and left the room without a word, while Thor merely grunted, staring miserably into his mug as he sipped his coffee.

You had mandatory team training today. Eager to avoid any confrontation, you woke up at 5:00 AM just to have your coffee and breakfast completely away from him and everyone else, before retreating straight back to your room to get ready into your tight, black gear.

Thor woke up a few hours later and had his coffee as usual, but it felt entirely tasteless without the usual, fiery fight he had with you over who got to pour the first cup. Fuck, he missed you. He missed you so much he felt it aching deep in his bones, his heart, his lungs—everywhere. He hated this distance. He hated the silence.

He quickly made his way down to the training area, his intense blue eyes scanning the perimeter the second he stepped foot on the grass, instantly searching for you. And there you were near the equipment mats, talking to Steve with a quiet familiarity, just like you had been doing for the last two days. The sight of you leaning in slightly to hear what the captain was saying made rage build inside Thor's chest. The static in his veins flared, his jaw locking hard as his fists clenched at his sides.

It cannot be, his mind echoed fiercely, a desperate attempt to talk himself down. You are getting jealous over nothing. He is merely her teammate. But as he watched Steve laugh at something you said, Thor's chest hollowed out with that same burning, possessive fire that had consumed him before. He turned his head away, staring out across the vast, sun-drenched gardens of the compound, trying to force his breathing to steady. He was clearly out of his mind. He was a god, for kingdoms' sake, yet he was ready to throw down with the Captain over a simple conversation.

Meanwhile, out on the grass near the training mats, you and Steve were actually talking about the exact elephant in the room. “Tell me, doll, what happened with you two?” Steve asked, his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze shifting between you and the brooding god standing fifty yards away by the glass doors. “Nothing” you said immediately, adjusting the tracking straps on your wrists, trying to deflect. “It's obvious, you know? Don't bother lying.” Steve’s voice was gentle, but persistent.

You looked down at your combat boots, the weight of the secret pressing too heavily on your chest. Looking around to ensure no one else was in earshot, you finally whispered, “We slept together, Steve.” Steve's eyebrows furrowed in deep, pure confusion. “Okay... I know you don't exactly like the guy, but sleeping in the same bed couldn't have caused this much of a disaster—“ You snapped your head up and rolled your eyes, letting out a heavy sigh. Idiots. The whole lot of them were pure idiots. “Steve. Not like that,” you said, slapping your hand against your forehead. He had completely dismissed the actual option because his straight-laced brain simply couldn't believe it.

“What do you mean?” he asked again, completely lost.

You huffed, crossing your arms tightly. “We had sex.”

Steve’s eyes widened to the size of saucers, his arms instantly uncrossing as his brain short-circuited. “You—“ he pointed a finger at you, then pointed vaguely in Thor's direction. “Thor—“ he stammered, blubbering out in total confusion, it was very uncharacteristic of him you admit.

“Yes,” you cut him off, wanting to get the bandage ripped off. “And he regrets it, but me? I'm completely in love with him. Yay!” you said sarcastically, clapping your hands together in a mocking, bitter celebration.

Steve stood there in pure shock. You had never seen the Captain America look so entirely stunned, but then, something passed through his eyes. It was like a veil had been lifted, an entire timeline of events rewriting itself in his mind. “That's why you guys were always together,” he said, realization dawning on him. “You two are completely in love—“

“Whoa! Hold your horses,” you interrupted, your face heating up under the morning sun. “I am the one who's in love. Not him. He couldn't wait to escape the bed the next morning—“

“He is definitely in love with you—“ Steve started to counter, his voice laced with the certainty of a man who had been watching Thor pine from the sidelines for years. But whatever wisdom he was about to drop was loudly cut off by Tony’s voice echoing across the lawn through a megaphone. “We're all here, folks, let's get started! Cap, stop flirting with Shadow, goldilocks looks like he's about to blast you with lightning!” Tony yelled, gesturing toward the center of the field.

You stiffened, your eyes instinctively darting over to Thor, who was already marching onto the grass, his expression promising devastation for whoever had to spar with him today.

Your heart fastened at the sight of him, your eyes darting over his heavy frame, completely unable to control the sudden spike in your pulse. Steve grumbled something under his breath about Tony being incredibly annoying as he stood up and offered you a hand. You took his hand and got up, brushing the grass off your tight athletic pants.

Suddenly, a faint rumble of thunder vibrated through the ground. You paused, your eyebrows furrowing as you looked up at the sky, only to see bright, uninterrupted sunshine. Your eyebrows furrowed deeper. Okay... were you actually going insane?

“Did you hear that?” Steve asked quietly, looking over at you. You nodded, relieved that you weren't the only one losing your mind. But then Steve’s lips twitched into a knowing, subtle smirk. “Not in love with you, you said?” he murmured, giving you a pointed look before he turned and walked toward the center of the lawn.

You stood frozen in place for two more seconds, processing his words, before forcing your feet to move toward the rest of the team. Thor, Steve, Tony, Bruce, Scott, Nat, Clint, and even Rocket—everyone was gathered on the grass.

“Alright, listen up, children,” Tony announced, clapping his hands together. “Today we're doing partner drills. Mixed combat.” Rocket immediately hopped forward, pointing a tiny, clawed finger at you. “Pair me with Shadow! I wanna be her badass partner!”

“Why does this bunny keep yelling?” Tony muttered, rubbing his temples before looking down at the raccoon and pointing a dramatic finger across the yard. “No! Look at pointbreak over there!” He gestured toward Thor, who was standing like a dark, towering statue of menace, the grass practically singeing beneath his boots. “He's going to be her partner or we're all getting barbecued today!”

Your expression soured instantly. Okay, what the hell? Did everyone switch sides? Tony knew Thor despised you so why would he try to pair you up with him? Rocket turned his head to look at Thor, blinked at the glare the god was throwing his way, and made a startled, defensive expression. “Okay, yeah, you're right.” But then Rocket snapped his head back to Tony, baring his teeth. “I'm not a fucking bunny!”

Steve immediately interrupted, his captain instincts kicking in. “Rocket, language!” You rolled your eyes heavily. “Really, Steve?”

“Grandpa,” Tony muttered in agreement, rolling his eyes. “Alright, let's start.”

Your partner was Thor, as Tony had so graciously assigned, and standing across from you on the mats was Steve paired up with Bruce. The strategy was obvious—Bruce was meant to keep Thor occupied. The second the starting signal was given, Hulk lunged straight at Thor.

While Thor was engaged, his massive fists trading heavy blows with the green giant, he kept looking sideways at you. He was completely distracted by how easily you and Steve had slid into perfect synchronization. His blood burned hot in his veins. Focus, his mind echoed fiercely, but every time he saw Steve catch your arm to fling you into a high kick, his vision swam with red. With a roar of frustration, Thor drove a massive punch straight into the Hulk's jaw, sending the massive beast stumbling back a few heavy steps.

Meanwhile, you and Steve were moving seamlessly. You ducked low under Steve's arm, using his shoulder as leverage to drive a brutal spin-kick directly into his abdomen but he caught your foot smiling at you. You retreated yoou foot, vaulted off the ground, twisting mid-air to deliver a kick. But something that shouldn't have happened, happened. As you came down, Steve extended a hand, catching you firmly by the waist to stabilize your landing.

The moment Steve’s hands locked onto your waist, the sky changed. Thick, dark storm clouds suddenly swirled over the compound out of nowhere, completely blocking the sun in a matter of seconds. A massive, deafening rumble of thunder crashed directly overhead, accompanied by a simple, gravelly growl, “No.”

You blinked, looking over just in time to see Thor completely abandon his fight with the Hulk, turning his back on the training exercise entirely as he marched straight toward you.

“No,” he simply repeated, his face a mask of pure fury. Before you or Steve could even register what was happening, Thor reached out, his hands wrapping around your upper arms, and yanked you away from Steve, pulling you flush against his chest.

Your eyes narrowed into lethal slits, the physical contact setting your nerves on fire. “What the hell do you think you're doing?”

“I am removing you from Steve's arms,” he stated matter-of-factly, his chest heaving heavily against your back, his deep voice carrying a possessive finality.

Every single eye on the field was instantly focused on the two of you. The entire team stood frozen in pure shock—except for Steve. Steve would have been shocked too, if he hadn't just heard your confession three minutes prior.

“Thor, calm down,” Steve said evenly, raising his hands in a placating gesture.

But Thor snapped his head up, his blue eyes blazing with static electricity. “Do not talk, Steve,” he threatened, a rumble vibrating from his throat. Absolute displeasure and violence radiated off his massive frame.

“Don't,” you hissed, struggling fiercely against his iron grip, trying to wrench your arms free. “Don't you dare try to act all possessive now, when you are the one who regrets everything—“

“Regret?” Thor asked, the word cutting through his anger as he stopped, staring down at you. “Me?”

Then, to your utter fury, he let out a dark, breathless chuckle. “You are a hypocrite, Little Flame.”

Natasha took one look at the amount of tension and immediately turned to the rest of the team. “I think we should give them space.” Tony didn't even glance away, his eyes wide as he actively enjoyed the spectacle. It was like he was watching his absolute favorite primetime drama play out live. “Why? We're all outdoors. Shouldn't they be the ones to go inside for privac—“

“Tony,” Natasha said warning him.

“Okay, alright,” Tony caved, raising his hands.

He and the rest of the team quickly retreated toward the compound, but even Natasha couldn't help herself; the second they got inside, the entire lineup of Avengers pressed themselves against the glass doors, watching the drama unfold through the windows.

“What is that supposed to mean?” You countered fiercely, turning fully in his grip to face him, your chest heaving.

“You are the one who regrets everything! Flirting with Steve the second you came back—“

“Excuse me? We were not flirting!” you yelled back, chuckling in pure, broken frustration as you looked away for a split second before snapping your eyes back to his burning gaze. “We were talking, like friends do! Hold on—you don't get to question me on that, seeing as you were clearly comfortable flirting with her!”

Thor huffed, his eyebrows furrowing in genuine confusion. “Who have I flirted with?!”

“Don't play dumb now, Thor! THE RECEPTIONIST!” you screamed, the weight of the last forty-eight hours finally breaking through your defenses. Tears of hot, angry frustration built up rapidly in your eyes, blurring your vision as your voice cracked. “You left me the second the sun rose! You left the bed completely empty! And then you proceeded to go and flirt with her!”

“I was not flirting with her!” he bellowed, the desperation in his voice cracking through the thunder rolling above. “I woke up early because I wanted to surprise you,” he insisted, completely ignoring the venom dripping from your words. “You were sleeping so deeply... you looked so peaceful, and I did not want to wake you. I went down there specifically to get your favorite fruits and coffee to bring back to our quarters. That girl—she just approached me. I did not even hear a word she said, I swear it to you by the All-Father! I was only thinking of you.”

You scoffed, a broken, trembling sound. “And the smiling?” you challenged, your voice shaking despite your best efforts to keep your shields up. “You looked down at her and smiled, Thor. I saw you.”

He shook his head frantically, “I was smiling because I was happy!” he burst out, his massive chest heaving under his athletic shirt. “I was thinking about how you looked in my arms. I was thinking about what you told me before you slept. I was happy because of you, Little Flame. Not her. Never her.”

You stared up at him, your breath hitching sharply in your throat. He sounded so painfully sincere, so desperately eager to clear his name, but the cold dread of your own insecurities was still screaming in the back of your mind.

“You left the bed empty,” you whispered, your professional facade completely shattering as your voice cracked, exposing the raw, bleeding core of your heart. “You weren't there when I woke up.”

Thor froze. His eyebrows knitted together tightly as the realization of what you had been torturing yourself with finally dawned on his mind. His heart dropped straight to his stomach, a weight crushing him as he realized the terror and abandonment he had accidentally put you through.

“Oh, gods,” he breathed, his fierce, possessive expression melting into pure heartbreak. His voice cracked with emotion. “You thought I regretted it? You thought I left you?”

You looked away, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze. “You—“ You tried to speak, but a small, pathetic sniffle escaped you instead. The sound made Thor take a sharp, painful intake of breath. Moving instantly, his large hand came up, his fingers gently but firmly holding your chin to force your face back up so you had to look at him.

“I do not regret it. I could never regret it,” he said, his blue eyes swimming with a matching pain as he looked down at your tear-stained face.

You sniffled again, looking up at him through wet lashes. Your heart was beating frantically against your ribs, a spark of dangerous, beautiful hope flaring to life in your chest. Taking a breath, you asked something you never, in a million years, thought you would ever ask the arrogant god.

“Do you like me?” you whispered, your small hand coming up to hold the thick wrist of the arm holding your chin.

Thor's face immediately scrunched up into a deeply offended, dismissive expression. “Not so much.”

Your heart instantly dropped straight to your stomach, the rejection freezing your blood. “But you—“

Before you could finish the sentence, Thor reached out and grabbed your cheeks with both of his massive hands, tilting your head up as he brought his mouth down on yours. He kissed you deeply, passionately, a bruising, breathless possession that completely wiped all thoughts from your brain. When he finally pulled back just a fraction, his thumbs wiping the fresh tears from your cheeks, he continued his sentence.

“I do not like you. I am completely and utterly in love with you,” he confessed, the words hitting you right in the center of your chest.

A startled, watery laugh bubbled out of your throat. “You dumbass,” you chuckled, your hands moving to grip his forearms as a massive, radiant smile finally broke across your face. “Why would you word it like that?” Thor didn't care about his poor phrasing; his eyes were boring into yours with an intense, desperate seriousness. “Do you?” he asked, looking down at you with adoration.

“Do I what?”

“Regret it,”

“I don't,” you said, shaking your head without a single second of hesitation. “Why would I, when you are the man I am completely in love with?” you whispered, finally letting the confession pass your lips.

Thor’s blue eyes lit up like a blinding flash of lightning. A breathtaking smile split his handsome face, and without waiting another syllable, he slammed his lips back onto yours, kissing you with a ferocious, joyful hunger.

“I do not know what is wrong with me, Little Flame,” he mumbled against your lips between deep, bruising kisses. “I do not know how I did not realize sooner how pathetically in love I am with you.” His large hands slid down from your face, wrapping firmly around your waist and lifting you slightly off the grass to deepen the kiss, completely forgetting they were standing in the middle of a compound training field.

Inside the building, behind the massive glass doors, the entire lineup of Avengers was pressed flat against the window. Tony was rooted completely in place, his mouth agape, his hands raised in bewilderment. “Are you guys seeing what I am seeing, or am I hallucinating? Is Point break currently kissing Shadow?” Natasha stood next to him, a triumphant, knowing smirk spreading across her lips as she crossed her arms. “About damn time.”

Outside, Thor kept kissing you thoroughly, but suddenly, he pulled his face away by a mere inch. Your eyebrows knitted together in immediate irritation at the loss of contact. “What is it?” You asked. Thor hesitated, his jaw flexing as he muttered just one word, the lingering jealousy still clear in his tone: “Steve?”

You rolled your eyes, letting out a breathless laugh as you locked your hands behind his neck and pulled his head right back down to your lips. “Don't piss me off while I'm kissing you,” you murmured against his mouth.

Thor let out a low, vibrating hum of pure compliance against your lips. “You are right, I’m sorry, I love you,” he mumbled onto your mouth, his grip on your waist tightening as he buried his face back into yours.

—

Masterlist

Taglist: @sinceimetyou @awkwardgiraffe726 @midasgard @mediocre-introvert @gurlidkiread @claytaysversion @landocat

[awkwardgiraffe726]

Can’t wait to dive into this one 😁

[smgespn]

Enjoy reading!💕

[smgespn]

Not So Much

Masterlist

Pairing: Thor Odinson X Reader

Summary: He was your teammate but also the person you disliked the most in the universe. He was always loud, he thrived on impulsive decisions, and he loved annoying you. You were the opposite, you moved through shadows quietly, analyzed every move before you made them. And now? They were sending you on a mission with him. Just the two of you. As husband and wife.

Content: Fake Marriage, Enemies To Lovers, Forced Proximity, Yearning, Tension, Slow Burn, Angst, Infinity War-Endgame Thor, King Thor, Protective Thor, Jealous Thor, Possessive Thor, Jealous Reader, They Are Touching Each Other Every Chance They Get, Bickering Final Boss, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Explicit SMUT (It starts from '—', and ends with it so you can skip it if you want)

Word Count: 40k

Note: I live for annoying but sweet Thor 😭 His most dominant personality traits i swear and the way he gets angry FAST😛 My mannn fr (took me a whole month to write this, not proofread sorry for any typos or mistakes)

Minors Do Not Interact

—

You wanted to kill him.

You wanted, with every fiber of your being, to wrap your hands around his thick, infuriating neck and choke the life out of him right there on the polished marble floor of the Avengers Compound kitchen. It was a beautiful, violent fantasy that played in your mind in vivid detail—but unfortunately for you, the man was a damn god, and your fingers would probably snap before his airway even constricted.

“I said no, Thor. I got here first,” you hissed, your voice a sharp, venomous whisper as you slammed your shoulder into his side, trying to forcefully shove his massive frame away from the espresso machine.

The sleek chrome appliance sat on the counter like a holy grail, reflecting the harsh morning light. At this ungodly hour, that single machine was the only thing bonding your soul to the realm of the living. You just loved your morning coffee too much. It was the one ritual that made your life feel somewhat normal. And he, as always, was standing squarely in the way—demanding, with all the unearned arrogance of Asgardian royalty, that he be the first one to use it.

“Stop pushing me away, will you? It does nothing but tickle me, Little Flame,” he grumbled, a deep sound that came from somewhere deep in his broad chest.

He didn't even look at you, his eyes fixed on the digital screen of the machine as his large hands came down to carelessly pry your fingers off his waist. Your eyes narrowed into lethal slits, the heat rising in your cheeks at the sound of the ridiculous nickname and the casual condescension dripping from his tone.

“I have been telling you for years, Thor, stop calling me that,” you snapped, pulling your hands back and crossing them over your chest in a furious, protective stance. “And what is that supposed to mean? Are you implying that I’m weak?”

Thor finally turned his head, his short, textured blonde hair catching the fluorescent lights. A lazy, incredibly punchable smirk broke across his handsome face. He held his massive, heavily muscled arm out horizontally, creating an unbreakable physical barrier that completely blocked you from reaching the coffee pods.

“Why? I think it rather suits you. Feisty little—”

Before he could finish the sentence, you slapped his forearm with a loud, resounding smack, grabbing his wrist with both hands and pulling down with all your weight, trying to rip his arm away from the machine. It was like trying to move a mountain with a piece of string.

“Weaker than me, surely,” he said, his smirk widening as he easily kept his arm locked in place against your full-body strain.

Okay, fine. He was stating a cold, unyielding fact. He was a cosmic entity. He was objectively, biologically stronger than you. Your cell structure had been locked in a permanent, un-aging loop by a rogue lab experiment, giving you endless youth and an unbreakable healing factor—not the brute strength to wrestle the God of Thunder. But you would rather walk barefoot on needles than ever admit his physical superiority to his face.

“What are you two bickering about again?”

Natasha’s exhausted, monotone voice sliced through the tension. She walked into the kitchen, holding an empty mug, her green eyes fixed on the two of you with the heavy, soul-deep weariness of a woman who was entirely done with you being at each other's throats every five minutes.

That was the true tragedy of your existence. Outside the reinforced walls of this compound, Thor was a global icon. He was the golden savior, a benevolent, charming god who was nice to every single human being he encountered. If you went to the press and told them how much he absolutely loved to torment, provoke, and annoy you on a daily basis, not a single soul on Earth would believe you. To the rest of the universe, he was a god. To you, he was a giant, golden-retriever-brained nuisance.

Your left eye literally twitched with fury as you whipped your head around to face Nat. “He’s being a child again!”

“I am only in need of my morning beverage—” Thor protested smoothly.

“I got here first!” You spun back toward him, throwing your hands up in the air, your eyes wide with erratic anger.

“And I will be drinking my coffee, first,” he replied with a smug tilt of his chin.

Before you could lunge forward to block him, his large fingers immediately darted past your face and pushed the start button. The machine whirred to life, a dark stream of espresso pouring directly into the ceramic cup you had painstakingly selected and placed there a minute ago.

Thor watched the liquid fill the mug, leaning his hip against the counter as he grabbed the handle. “See? Easy as that,” he mumbled, grinning straight into the steam as he took a slow, loud, deliberate sip right in front of your face.

Your face went a furious, burning red. Your breath hitched, your vision blurring with a wave of pure, chaotic rage. You wanted to grab that hot mug straight out of his hand and throw the boiling liquid right over his clean grey t-shirt. You wanted to watch the stain spread across his chest while you laughed in his face.

Honestly? That was a damn good idea. Your muscles coiled, your fingers twitching as you prepared to lunge at him and commit a felony.

But just as your sneakers gripped the tile, Natasha let out a sharp, interrupting sigh. “The team is waiting for you in the briefing room,” she said, turning on her heel and gesturing toward the sliding glass doors of the hallway. “Let’s go, lovebirds.”

The words cut through the kitchen like a sudden frost. You and Thor both froze instantly, the childish hostility evaporating into a stunned, icy paralysis.

“What?” you said in perfect unison. The word tore from your throats at the exact same second, your voices blending together as you both whipped your heads around to look at Natasha. But she didn't stop to explain—she simply walked down the corridor toward the war room, a wicked, knowing smirk playing on the corner of her lips as she left the two of you standing in the quiet kitchen, completely blindsided by the ominous weight of her words.

“Fucking weirdos everywhere,” you grumbled under your breath.

Before he could even swallow his next stolen sip, you forcefully jammed your palms right into the center of his chest. You used every single ounce of strength your muscles could muster up, throwing your entire body weight into the strike. You needed that damn coffee, and you would get that damn coffee.

Thor actually stumbled back a step, a booming chuckle ripping from his throat at the absolute volatility of your expression. You were completely furious. He honestly had no idea why annoying you brought him such immense satisfaction, but it did. It was an addiction at this point.

In his eyes, you were just absolutely no fun. From the very first day he met you, you had done nothing but jab at him for being too loud and obvious. You were always rolling your eyes, saying things like, “You only know how to smash things and be reckless, Thor,” and “Stealth is an actual concept, you know?”

Now, Thor didn't dislike a lot of people. He was a damn lovable person—the golden boy of the Nine Realms, and now, an absolutely attentive king. But when it came to you? He couldn't help it. You rubbed him the wrong way all the damn time, your sharp tongue grating on his nerves. He could say with absolute, unyielding certainty that he disliked you. A lot.

You were still grumbling under your breath about him stealing your favorite ceramic mug when you noticed his massive shadow was still hovering directly over you.

“Why are you still here?” you asked, your voice coming out far more irritated than it should have. You internally cursed yourself; you were giving him way too much power over your emotions.

“I simply want to watch you sip on your beverage after me,” he said, flashing you a brilliant, smug smile.

You huffed, grabbing your freshly poured cup from the machine. “Thor, just call it coffee. Calling it a beverage does not make it sound any fancier.”

You slid past his broad shoulder, taking a deliberate, aggressive sip of your drink before making your way toward the sliding glass doors of the briefing room. He immediately fell into step behind you, his massive, sweeping strides matching yours in a pure, frustrating rhythm.

“It does sound better when I call it a beverage,” he argued, his heavy leather boots thudding loudly against the floorboards as if he could make his statement more convincing by physical force.

“Sure, lord of thunder,” you murmured, a wicked, knowing smirk pulling at your lips. You knew exactly which buttons to push, and that specific title was your absolute favorite weapon.

“I am the god of thunder!” he hissed from behind you, his voice dropping into a defensive, offended rumble. “You know what? I know you are doing this on purpose—you are intentionally trying to—”

You pushed through the glass doors, entering the sleek, high-tech briefing room with the God of Thunder hot on your heels, still fiercely grumbling about the distinct theological differences between a lord and a god.

“Ah, our favorite couple, arguing again,” Tony said loudly, opening his arms wide in a dramatic, welcoming gesture from the head of the conference table. He leaned back in his chair, a classic, mischievous glint in his eyes. “Still not able to decide whether they want to kill each other or fuck—“

Before the final, crude word could even leave his mouth, your reflexes took over. Your hand blurred. You snatched a thick, heavy tactical folder from the edge of the table and launched it through the air with lethal, pinpoint precision.

Smack. The folder hit Tony squarely across the bridge of his nose, the papers scattering in a neat halo around his chair.

“Ow! Okay, there was absolutely no need for that,” Tony muttered, wincing as he gingerly adjusted his tinted glasses, though the smirk never truly left his face. He looked over at Natasha and Steve, who were already seated, completely unfazed by the morning violence.

“You talk too much, Stark,” Thor grumbled, pulling out a chair and dropping his massive frame into it with a loud thud that resonated through the room.

Your eyebrows shot up instantly as you sat down yourself. “Says you?” you retorted, gesturing toward his broad chest with your coffee mug. “You literally haven't shut up since the kitchen.”

“Let’s just focus on our objective, okay, guys?” Steve said, running a tired palm over his face, completely done with your collective energy so early in the morning. He pushed himself up from his seat next to Tony, leaning his broad shoulders over the holographic table to command the room.

Steve tapped the digital console, and the lights in the briefing room dimmed instantly, replaced by a glowing, three-dimensional blueprint of an ultra-private luxury island floating in the Mediterranean.

“Our focus is here: The Sanctuary,” Steve began, his voice dropping into his serious captain tone. “On paper, it’s an exclusive, hyper-secure resort for the world's billionaires, corrupt politicians, and elite criminals. But over the last forty-eight hours, our satellites intercepted an unencrypted dark-web signal bouncing from the island’s lower levels. A rogue faction has managed to smuggle a massive cache of volatile, leftover Dark Elf technology onto the premises. They’re hosting a private, black-market auction to sell it off to the highest bidder.”

You leaned forward, your brain instantly analyzing the island's perimeter. “So we drop in, neutralize the buyers, and secure the tech. Sounds like a standard Tuesday. Why are we all sitting here?”

“Because it’s a hostage situation waiting to happen if we go in loud,” Natasha spoke up from the corner, her fingers tapping against her tablet. “The entire island is rigged with a quantum-fission failsafe connected to the central vault. If the resort’s biometric security detects a frontal assault, a breach, or a single Quinjet on their radar, the system will instantly detonate the alien cache. It’ll vaporize the island and take half of Western Europe out with the blast wave. It requires a ghost to dismantle the failsafe from the inside.”

“A ghost?” you repeated, a slow, dark smile creeping onto your face. “Perfect. I’ll go in undercover as a maid, slip into the server room, kill the signal, and leave before anyone even finishes their champagne.”

“You’re half right,” Tony cut in, tapping his pen against his cheek. “You are going undercover. But you’re not going as a maid, Shadow. The resort has a strict, biometric-level verification system for all service staff, but their guest list is curated entirely by the billionaire owner—an eccentric, power-obsessed arms dealer named Moretti. He has a strict ‘No Media, Couples Only’ policy for his guests to protect their privacy.”

Tony smirked, leaning forward and typing a command into his console. The holographic display shifted from the island to a digital invitation, written in gold lettering, making your eyes go wide. No.

“Moretti is obsessed with power, gods, and mythology,” Tony explained, his eyes darting between you and the blonde King sitting across from you. “He doesn't just want money; he wants prestige. So, we gave him exactly what he wanted. We leaked a carefully staged, ‘top-secret’ paparazzi photo to the press this morning. The official narrative? The newly crowned King of Asgard has secretly retired from his bachelor days and eloped with a fierce, mysterious warrior woman.”

Your breath hitched violently in your throat. The coffee in your mug suddenly felt like acid.

“What?” you whispered, your heart stopping. You were an Avenger; you were known to the world, but you operated mostly in the quiet, precise darkness. To be thrust into the center of attention like this was your worst nightmare.

Thor froze, his hand stopping mid-air as he went to scratch his short blonde beard. His blue eyes went incredibly wide as he stared at the holographic invitation. “Stark—what madness are you speaking of?”

“It’s simple, lovebirds,” Natasha said, her voice laced with an infuriatingly calm amusement. “Moretti swallowed the bait hook, line, and sinker. The moment he saw the news that the King Of Asgard was on a secret honeymoon, he personally sent out an exclusive, all-access VIP invitation to the royal couple. You two are the ultimate distraction.”

Steve looked at the two of you, his expression sympathetic but unyielding. “Thor keeps all eyes on him by playing the loud, boastful, larger-than-life husband, giving you the perfect cover to move through the high-society crowds, slip into the shadows, and quietly dismantle the failsafe without triggering the biometric alarms. You need his status to get through the front door, and he needs your precision to make sure the island doesn't explode.”

“You expect me,” you said slowly, your voice dropping into a lethal, dangerous sound as you pointed a finger across the table, “to pretend to be blissfully, passionately in love with him? For how long exactly?”

“Not a soul here but you said passionately—“ Thor grumbled but was cut off by you, “Shut up, will you?”

Thor’s hands twitched, like he was holding himself from doing something irrational. He sighed a long breath, trying to compose himself, he didn’t think he could do this. Why did it have to be you, of all people?

But your skills in being a ghost were too good—too fucking perfect for your own good. So he knew the reason why it had to be you, but he protested anyway, he turned to Steve, “I do not see why she should be the one coming with me—“

You didn’t let him finish, rolling your eyes as you said “I’m not loving the idea either—“

“Depends on you, really. Could just be two days or a whole week.“ Steve said cutting both of you off as he looked at the both of you, clearly distressed at your brewing argument, again. “An entire week?” you said, your voice dripping with irritation, your jaw locking at the mere thought of it.

“Hey, it’s a tough gig, but someone’s gotta do it,” Tony chuckled, completely ignoring the murderous look you were throwing him across the table. “Congratulations, kids. Pack your bags. You’re going on a honeymoon.”

—

You were huffing and puffing as you aggressively packed your suitcases—yes, suitcases, plural.

You were practically tearing through your wardrobe, shoving in dresses, hats, sunglasses, and anything else you could get your hands on, entirely leaving the burden of actually coordinating an outfit for later. The second you had escaped the briefing room, you had fled to your quarters. The news was still pouring over you like boiling water, making your skin burn with a restless, defensive heat just thinking about it.

How the hell were you going to pretend to be his wife?

The only thing you were biologically capable of doing near that man was yelling at him, throwing files at his head, or arguing until you were blue in the face. He got on your nerves every single second of the day, provoking you with that smug arrogance of his, making you want to literally peel your own skin off your bones just to escape his proximity. And now you were supposed to look into his blue eyes and play the part of a blushing, smitten bride on a Mediterranean honeymoon. It was sick. It was a comedy of errors written by a cruel universe.

As you slammed another folded gown into the suitcase, your movements suddenly slowed. Your eyes caught sight of the faint, jagged scars marring the skin over your forearms and stomach.

A sudden, heavy wave of insecurity bubbled up inside your chest, overtaking the rage. The thought of being forced into revealing resort wear—of being paraded around an island full of hyper-critical, judgmental billionaires who you knew would dissect your every flaw—infiltrated your mind.

Usually, you were secure in your own skin. You were an Avenger, for God's sake. You were a lethal weapon, and honestly, you did wear dresses when the occasion called for it. But in this context? Under the blinding, global spotlight? You felt like a fraud. You felt like every single pair of eyes on that island would be glued to you, the judgmental, elitist sneers of high society cutting right through you simply because you were Thor’s goddamn wife. You were the woman who had supposedly tamed the King of Asgard, and they would be looking for any reason to tear you apart.

The scars were a permanent, physical gift from your torturers. The monsters who had turned you immortal years ago.

You could not die of age. You could not fall succumb to diseases. Even lethal wounds healed seamlessly within hours if properly attended to. You were stuck living like this forever, the terrifying nightmares from those months in the lab still playing in your mind night after night, making your throat go completely sore as you woke up screaming for them to stop. The experiments had broken your human limitations, locking your cellular structure in a permanent, un-aging loop.

You sharply rubbed at your eyes with the palms of your hands, trying to force the horrific memories to flee from your mind. The ghosts of your past loved to haunt you wherever you went, but you couldn't afford a breakdown today. Not with a flight to catch.

Letting out a heavy, defeated sigh, you declared yourself done with the chaotic packing. You bit your lip anxiously as you got ready for the travel day, pulling a simple, breezy white summer dress over your frame. The fabric flared gently around your knees, and you slid your feet into a pair of modest kitten heels. Finally, you pulled a soft white cardigan over your shoulders, fastening a few buttons, strictly wanting to ensure you wouldn't freeze before you reached your destination. You took one last look in the mirror, masking the assassin, masking the scars, and preparing to face your fate.

As you opened the door, struggling to maneuver your suitcases out of the room, you immediately heard his voice booming down the corridor.

“How are you going to carry those by yourself?” Thor asked, leaning against the wall with a wicked, entirely too handsome smile plastered across his face.

He was obviously going to help you. If the King of Asgard was anything, he was a gentleman down to his very bones—but he didn't just want to be helpful. He wanted to hear the words come out of your mouth. He wanted you to look him in the eye and actively admit that you needed his help. He knew you would absolutely hate doing it, which only made him crave it more.

“I can handle myself just fine,” you breathed out defensively. You leaned your weight back, using the rolling wheels of the suitcases to your advantage. Your pride was still firmly intact because you could easily drag them behind you on a flat surface, but you knew deep down that you couldn't physically lift both of these giant, overpacked cases at the same time down a flight of stairs. But he most definitely did not need to know that.

“Oh? So you don’t need any assistance at all?” he remarked smoothly. He was casually carrying his own massive tactical suitcase in one hand by the handle, his arm barely flexing. It was probably like holding a mosquito between his fingers for him.

“No. Especially not from you,” you huffed, your heels clicking sharply against the tile as you tried to wheel past him, clearly getting irritated by his mere existence.

“Hm,” he just mumbled, a deeply amused sound vibrating in his throat as he turned and watched you walk over to the elevator banks.

You aggressively pressed the down button, silently begging the universe for the doors to open as fast as humanly possible. You could feel Thor’s massive presence looming right behind you, practically radiating an eager energy, just waiting for another opportunity to prod at you.

“What are you waiting for?” you asked, your voice incredibly tight from pure annoyance.

He chuckled, the sound low and rumbling. “For the elevator, Little Flame. Same as you.”

You could feel his massive, broad frame standing directly behind your back. Even though there were a few inches of space separating you, he was like a literal furnace, a heavy, intoxicating heat radiating off his body and wrapping around your shoulders.

You rolled your eyes at the ceiling. “You can carry your own suitcase. I don't see why—” You abruptly cut yourself off, closing your eyes tightly, your face scrunching up in disdain.

Fuck. You had just walked right into his trap.

“Oh, so you cannot carry yours?” he prodded instantly, his tone dripping with sheer amusement. Your eyes opened back up immediately.

Where was this fucking elevator?!

Realizing the lift was taking too long, you sharply turned around to face him. Your bruised, stubborn ego completely hijacked your brain, making you snap at him before you could stop yourself. “I very much can!”

Thor looked down at you, his blue eyes sparkling with a level of amusement that was bordering on infuriating. “Oh, please, be my guest, will you?” He dramatically extended his free hand, gesturing toward the grand concrete staircase at the end of the hall. You huffed a sharp breath through your nose, your jaw locking. “Fine.”

You spun on your heels, deliberately dragging your heavy suitcases over to the very edge of the stairs, desperately delaying the exact moment you would actually have to lift them. When you finally reached the top step, you stopped and stared down at the luggage, your brain going into overdrive as you calculated the weight distribution.

Thor followed you, enjoying every single second of this entirely too much. Even his stance—weight shifted to one hip, a smirk playing on his lips—radiated absolute satisfaction.

“Struggling there?” he asked, taking a deliberate step closer to you.

“Not at all,” you lied through your teeth. Your eyes narrowed into lethal slits as you stared at him, and out of pure, stubborn stupidity, you grabbed the handles of both massive suitcases.

Bracing yourself in your goddamn kitten heels, you attempted to lift them both off the ground at the exact same time.

But the second your muscles tensed and you yanked them up, the combined, brutal weight of the luggage completely threw off your center of gravity. Your body violently swung forward toward the edge of the stairs, the momentum dragging you directly downward. A sharp, terrified yelp tore from your throat as your foot slipped on the smooth edge. You closed your eyes, waiting for the inevitable impact.

You were definitely going down. You were going to roll down a flight of concrete stairs in a white summer dress, become the laughing stock of the entire Avengers Compound, and probably severely injure yourself—meaning you'd have to hobble around the island waiting for your powers to slowly knit your bones back together. Amazing. Brilliant execution, babe, bravo.

But just as those thoughts raced through your mind, they disappeared entirely.

A massive, incredibly solid arm suddenly wrapped like an iron band around your waist. With one effortless, powerful pull, he caught your entire body weight, dragging you firmly back from the edge of the abyss and slamming your back flush against his broad, solid chest.

You opened your eyes—which you hadn't even realized you'd squeezed shut—and let out a shaky, breathless sigh of pure relief. Your heart was hammering like a drum against your ribs.

“Perhaps now, you will admit that you need me to carry them for you,” he mumbled. His voice was a gravelly rasp right against the back of your ear, his warm breath fanning across your skin and causing a shiver of goosebumps to erupt down your neck and arms.

Your breath caught. You quickly huffed, using your hands to pry his heavy arm away from your waist. The skin beneath your dress was practically burning from his touch, but you absolutely did not have the mental capacity to dwell on that right now.

You turned around to face him, your cheeks flushed, your expression a mixture of distress and absolute fury that you had just proven him entirely right.

“Fine,” you said, your voice tight and defeated.

Thor didn't move an inch out of your personal space. He looked down at you, his eyes slowly tracing over your flushed face and your white dress, a smug, triumphant look in his gaze.

“Fine, what?” he challenged softly, wanting every single syllable of his victory.

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, your pride fiercely battling against the cold reality of the situation. You darted a desperate look toward the elevator, but the glowing digital screen indicated it was still stuck on a lower floor. Frustrated and completely cornered, you aggressively slammed your right foot down against the tile floor like a spoiled child. He always brought that irritating, uncharacteristic side out of you.

“Okay,” you snapped, completely averting your gaze from his face as you mumbled, “Ineedyoutocarrymyluggageforme.”

The words tumbled out of your mouth in a single, rushed, completely unintelligible breath, your eyes locked onto the center of his chest.

“What?” Thor chuckled again, the hilarious sight of you stomping your foot and speaking at supersonic speed catching him entirely off guard. A deep, rumble of laughter shook his chest. “I did not quite get that, Little Flame. Can you say it again?” He was enjoying this far too much for his own good, the smug triumph radiating off him in waves.

“I need you to carry my luggage for me,” you enunciated sharply, every word dripping with pure annoyance.

Instead of just taking the win, Thor brought a thick finger to his chin, tapping it as if he were lost in deep thought. He scrunched up his handsome face, tilting his head. “I don’t think that was a really nice way of asking someone to carry your ginormous suitcases for you.”

“Ugh!” You let out a loud, frustrated yell, throwing your hands down to your sides as you forced yourself to look him dead in his sparkling blue eyes. “Will you please carry my luggage for me?”

He smiled triumphantly, his entire face lighting up like a kid on Christmas morning. He finally stepped forward and grabbed your two bags, arranging them in perfect order back-to-back so their elongated handles lined up close together. Then, with a single, massive hand, he closed his fingers over both handles at once. With his own tactical suitcase in his other hand, he effortlessly lifted all three massive bags off the floor without a single hint of strain.

The elevator suddenly dinged, the doors sliding open just as he hoisted the luggage into the air. Ordinarily, you would have completely lost your temper at timing like that. You would have cursed the universe out loud for making you beg for help only for the elevator to arrive a second later.

But the words died in your throat.

The sight of him carrying all three heavy suitcases at once made you breathe in a sharp, sudden gasp. Your pulse skipped a beat in your chest, and your eyes involuntarily roamed all over his frame. He had changed out of his grey t-shirt before coming to your door; he was now wearing a tight black t-shirt that hugged the broad expanse of his chest and shoulders, paired with tailored charcoal linen pants and black loafers.

He looked good. So fucking hot, in fact, that it sent an unexpected, electric tingle shooting straight through your core and settling deep in your stomach. The sight of his veins popping and his massive biceps bulging as he easily carried the weight of your entire life in one hand was—

What the fuck? What the hell was wrong with you?

You were fully aware that the King of Asgard possessed heart-stoppingly good looks—the entire planet was aware of it—but his infuriating behaviour toward you usually stopped you from ever enjoying the sight. You were supposed to dislike him. You were rivals. But what the fuck had just happened to your brain?

You sharply cleared your throat, forcefully tearing your eyes away from his arms as your cheeks burned a bright, furious crimson. Desperate to hide your sudden fluster, you quickly turned and marched past him, going down the staird in a fastened pace.

Thor smoothly followed behind you, his loafers making zero noise on the concrete, while your heels clicked loudly and rapidly down the steps, echoing your erratic, racing heartbeat.

Thor was watching you walk down the stairs before him, still visibly fuming that he had managed to break your stubborn streak and force a please out of your mouth. He was utterly relishing the victory, a brilliant, smug smile that practically screamed he had won etched across his handsome features while he effortlessly balanced your massive luggage in his grip.

But his smugness didn't last long.

You huffed, stopping for a brief second on the landing. With a fluid, deliberate motion, you slid your white cardigan off your shoulders, pooling the fabric into one hand. The sudden movement exposed the sharp, elegant lines of your collarbones in the strapless white dress. You flipped your hair to one side, completely baring the smooth expanse of your neck to the air—and to him. Then, as if you couldn't quite decide what kind of sensory torture you wanted to execute on the King of Asgard, you started heading down the remaining stairs, your hips swaying with a natural, intoxicating rhythm.

Thor took a sudden, sharp breath at the sight before him. His blue eyes went wide, running over your frame, completely unable to decide where to look. His gaze got hopelessly caught on the soft curve of your shoulders, the narrow dip of your waist, the hypnotic roll of your hips.

A hot rush of blood surged to his head. His breath caught violently in his chest, and for the first time in his immortal life, the God of Thunder actually stumbled on a concrete step. His black loafer clipped the edge, his chest heaving as he quickly caught himself.

What the actual hell was happening? He was well aware that you were breathtaking; he had seen the way people’s heads turned whenever you walked into a room without you even trying. But this? This reaction was entirely uncalled for. He disliked you. He disliked your sharp tongue and the way you always had a quip ready to jab at him. He shouldn't be admiring you, yet his heart was currently hammering against his ribs like a war drum.

Hearing his sudden, heavy stumble, you paused and turned your head back to see what was wrong. You found him standing a few steps above you, his jaw slightly slack. A wicked smile slowly bloomed across your face.

“What was that, Your Majesty? Are they too much for you to carry?” you taunted, shifting your body so your chest was fully turned toward him.

Thor’s eyes helplessly drifted downward to your now fully visible chest, his breath catching for a second time that day. The flush on his neck deepened. He aggressively cleared his throat, forcing his eyes up to meet your smirking face.

“Hah! I can move literal mountains, Little Flame. These trinkets are nothing to me,” he mumbled defensively, his voice a bit more rushed than usual. “I simply lost my balance is all.”

Desperate to escape your mocking gaze, he practically ran down the remaining stairs, his loafers squeaking slightly against the polished concrete as he hurried into the main lobby with all three suitcases clutched tightly in his hands.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you watched him go, continuing your descent. The discarded cardigan remained clutched in your hand; you felt entirely too hot, your own racing thoughts making your skin flush. You gulped, trying to aggressively shoo the bizarre tension out of your mind. You hated him. You needed to get a grip.

When you finally reached the expansive glass entrance of the compound, Thor was already standing there, deep in a heated discussion with Tony.

“Why spend hours traveling in one of your metal birds when we can get there in seconds?” Thor was arguing, his brow furrowed in genuine, godly confusion.

Tony turned toward you as you approached, a wicked, entirely too amused smirk lighting up his face. “Ah, perfect timing, Shadow. Point Break here is staging a mutiny. He says you two don't need to board a plane or take a Quinjet.”

“How come?” you asked, your blood suddenly running cold. An ominous weight dropped into your stomach because you could already guess exactly what the god of thunder had in mind.

“Stormbreaker can take us across the world in seconds,” Thor said, turning his massive frame toward you, completely serious.

“But—” you started, your mind frantically grasping for any viable excuse to avoid being that physically close to him for a cosmic teleportation ride. “But how will you carry the luggage while we traverse realms? It’s impossible.”

“You just hold onto me, and I will handle the rest,” he said easily, dismissively, as if he were explaining the most simple, mundane task in the world. You swallowed hard, your heart doing a strange flip. “But Thor, you have to hold Stormbreaker in one hand, and the luggage in the other. What about me? Where am I supposed to go?”

Thor let out a sharp, irritated huff, clearly done with you dragging out the inevitable. “I said I will handle it. Now, let us go.”

He turned away, marching through the sliding glass doors into the bright morning air. He dropped his own suitcase onto the concrete pavement and extended his right hand toward the sky. Within a split second, a loud, crackling boom echoed through the compound as the massive, heavy blade of Stormbreaker flew from his room straight into his waiting palm.

With practiced, terrifying strength, he gathered the handles of all three massive suitcases into his other hand, hoisting them up effortlessly. He turned his head, his short blonde hair catching the sunlight, and motioned sharply with his chin for you to come closer.

You narrowed your eyes at him stubbornly, crossing your arms over your chest. “What if I don’t want to—” Before you could even finish your protest, Thor’s patience snapped. In one swift, blur of a movement, his massive hand shot out and grabbed you firmly by the wrist.

You let out a sharp yelp as he effortlessly yanked you forward into his personal space, his strength completely overriding your balance. He forcefully guided your arms around his thick middle, pulling you so close that your cheek was muffled right against the hard, solid muscle of his chest.

You could feel his heavy pectoral muscles instantly tighten at the sudden contact, a wave of intense, radiating heat washing over you. Before you could even open your mouth to yell at him for handling you so roughly, his deep, rumbling voice vibrated right through his chest wall against your ear. “Hold on tight.” And with a sudden, blinding flash of blue electricity, he raised Stormbreaker high into the sky.

A blinding burst of color erupted all around you as the Bifrost engulfed you both. The roaring force of the cosmic energy threatened to rip you away, and you instinctively closed your eyes tightly, holding yourself steady by gluing your body entirely to his. Your fingers dug firmly into the fabric of his shirt, pulling yourself so close that there wasn’t a single millimeter of space left between your chest and his.

Then, just as quickly as it had begun, the rushing roar vanished.

You felt your heels solidly touch the ground, arriving at your destination in a second. For a moment, your hands remained tightly locked around his middle and your face was still pressed right against the warm, hard muscle of his chest, you could hear his heartbeat thudding against his ribs.

Slowly, you forced your eyes open and pulled your face back, blinking against the sudden, brilliant glare of the Mediterranean sun.

The Sanctuary stretched out before you, you were standing on a private, pristine white-stone terrace that overlooked a sprawling, crescent-shaped bay. The water below was a blinding, translucent turquoise, so clear that you could see the dark, shifting shadows of coral reefs deep beneath the surface. Sleek, multi-million-dollar superyachts were anchored in the distance, polished and gleaming under the midday sun.

The resort itself was built directly into the towering, sun-bleached cliffs of the island. It was a marvel of modern, minimalist design blended with ancient luxury—all clean white concrete, floor-to-ceiling glass panels, and cascading infinity pools that seemed to spill directly into the ocean below. Lavish, vibrant pink bougainvillea and lush green palms draped over stone walkways, softening the sharp lines of the villas.

Your nostrills filled with the scent of saltwater, expensive citrus perfume, and blooming jasmine. In the distance, you could hear the faint, muted clinking of crystal glasses and the smooth, ambient lounge music drifting from an exclusive beachfront pavilion. It was entirely peaceful, completely hidden from the rest of the world, and crawling with some of the most dangerous, corrupt elite on the planet.

You let out a slow breath, your eyes immediately mapping out the security cameras hidden in the palm trees and the heavily armed guards dressed in casual, matching resort linen suits.

“You can let go of me now, Little Flame,” Thor’s deep voice murmured directly above you, a distinct trace of that familiar, smug amusement vibrating right against your hands. “Unless, of course, you are already enjoying the perks of marriage.”

You blinked, sharply pushing yourself away from his broad chest. “You wish,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes as you aggressively smoothed down the wrinkled fabric of your white summer dress. “I’m not exactly into lords, anyway. I prefer a much stronger title.”

“Good thing I am not a lord, then,” he replied smoothly. For the first time, he didn't get defensive or angry at the jab. Instead, he just stood there, smiling down at you with a gaze so wicked that you could practically feel the blood rushing straight to your head.

You internally groaned, chastising yourself. Stupid girl. You really should have thought beforehand that he would turn your own words right back on you like that. But before your scrambled brain could piece together a proper, biting retort, the heavy footsteps of the resort's security staff cut you off.

“Are you invited, sir?”

A burly bodyguard in a pristine, light-blue linen suit approached the two of you. His voice was laced with a deep, unmistakable tone of respect; he clearly recognized the King of Asgard, but he was trying to maintain the island's strict protocol.

“Yes,” you intervened seamlessly, sliding in front of Thor. Your training kicked in instantly, and a perfected, dazzling smile etched itself onto your face. You held up your phone, displaying the exclusive, gold-rimmed digital invitation Tony had intercepted.

The bodyguard scanned the screen, nodding, but his cautious gaze quickly drifted down to the massive, terrifying axe gripped firmly in Thor's left hand. “We... do not allow weapons on the resort grounds, sir. If you could leave it with security—”

“Ah, that is easily remedied,” Thor interrupted cheerfully. With a casual flick of his wrist, the massive, razor-sharp blade of Stormbreaker melted away, shrinking down until it transformed into a simple, polished black umbrella. You whipped your head around to look at the object, completely deadpan. “An umbrella? In this weather?” you muttered, gesturing to the cloudless, blazing mediterranean sky.

Thor’s eyebrows furrowed at you, his jaw tightening in annoyance at your public critique. “Well, there is something called a summer rain, sweetheart,” he said, faking an incredibly sweet, doting smile for the sake of the watchibg guard, though his blue eyes promised absolute murder.

“I don’t think it’s going to rain anytime soon, honey,” you shot back, your voice dripping with a deep, sickeningly fake sugary sweetness as your own plastic smile widened. Before you could take another breath, Thor’s massive arm suddenly shot out, wrapping securely around your waist and forcefully dragging you flush into his side for a tight, suffocating hug.

A sharp, undignified yelp tore from your throat at the sudden impact, but you quickly cleared your throat, masking your shock as you gripped his forearm. He was absolutely enjoying torturing you, using the doting husband act as the perfect excuse to handle you however he pleased. You were going to kill him.

“I can make it rain anytime I wish,” he murmured, his tone biting at you in a dangerous, playful whisper that sent an involuntary shiver down your spine. He flashed one last dazzling smile at the bewildered bodyguard. “Now, let us go to our room, yeah?”

After that, the guard politely led you both through the sweeping glass doors toward the main lobby, where a receptionist stood behind a white marble desk, a bright, welcoming smile on her face.

“Welcome to The Sanctuary. Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Odinson,” she said smoothly, but the moment the words left her mouth, you saw her cringe a bit, her eyes darting between the digital registry and your face as she thought the names over. You noticed the hesitation instantly, Odinson did sound incredibly weird when referring to a woman.

“Is that your last name now, madam? Should I call you that?” she genuinely asked, looking a bit flustered, as if she were desperately trying to avoid making a mistake.

A massive grin broke across your face while Thor’s expression instantly soured. Oh, you liked this receptionist already.

“I genuinely have no idea. It does sound completely off when you say it like that, doesn't it?” you said, leaning against the marble desk. Then, you slowly turned your head to look up at him, your eyes wide with mock innocence. “Honey, is my last name Odinson now? Wouldn't that literally just mean I’m a son of Odin? I mea—”

He cut you off instantly, his jaw clenching as he growled under his breath, clearly pissed. “Well, we are in Midgard, darling. So your last name is now Odinson here, no? It is how things are done on this realm.” He forced out a tight, blindingly fake smile, trying his absolute best not to throw off the receptionist standing inches away.

You smiled right back, utterly loving the fact that you had managed to piss him off so quickly. You turned back to the receptionist, giving her a conspiratorial look. “Or you could just call me by my former last na—”

“No.” Thor cut you off again, his deep voice dropping an octave, completely unyielding as his blue eyes threw literal daggers down at you. “She will be referred to as Mrs. Odinson.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, your smile faltering for a split second. That was a remarkably quick, fiercely defensive reaction from him. Why the hell did he care so much about a fake human registry?

Recovering quickly, you huffed out a light, airy fake laugh for the receptionist's benefit, gesturing toward the rigid King beside you. “He gets incredibly defensive in situations like this,” you told her. Then, leaning in slightly, you whispered in a stage-whisper, “Male ego, am I right?” The receptionist let out a quiet, knowing chuckle and nodded her head in absolute agreement, clearly understanding exactly what you meant.

“I will show you to your room then, Mrs. Odinson,” she said, stepping out from behind the marble desk and motioning toward a glass elevator that overlooked the turquoise bay, while waving over a bellboy to take the three giant suitcases from Thor's hands.

Thor let the bellboy take the suitcases, his hands finally free as he followed the two of you toward the glass lift. The receptionist held the elevator doors open, gesturing politely with an extended hand, and once you and Thor stepped inside, she followed, pressing the button for the upper residential levels.

The elevator began its smooth ascent. Thor looked around the glass enclosure, his massive arms folding tightly over his broad chest. The movement made his biceps bulge prominently against the fabric of his t-shirt, and your traitorous eyes immediately darted downward, following the sharp lines of his muscles before you could even stop yourself.

“I like this Midgardian facility,” Thor remarked, his deep voice echoing in the enclosed space as he looked out at the view. “It is quite nice.”

“Me too. Love the design, honestly.” you said smoothly, flashing a perfect, effortless hand gesture, but as your eyes finally flicked away from Thor’s arm, you caught something out of the corner of your eye. A sudden, entirely unknown feeling brewed in the pit of your stomach.

The receptionist was staring at Thor’s arms. And she wasn't just glancing; she was so goddamn focused, her eyes tracing the thick veins of his biceps, that she didn't even notice your lethal gaze cutting right through her.

You were definitely taking it back—you did not like this girl at all.

Before your brain could even process the irrational spike of possessiveness, you acted on pure instinct. You stepped right into his space, cleared your throat sharply, and forcefully reached up to uncross his arms.

“What are—” Thor started, entirely caught off guard by the unexpected intrusion.

He was completely silenced as you forcefully dragged his broad frame down into a tight side hug. Your arm slid securely over his back, anchoring him to you, and you felt his breath hitch violently at the sudden contact. He froze for a second, his chest heaving, before he cleared his throat and let his massive hand find the curve of your waist, pulling you securely against his hip.

You kept your eyes locked dead on the receptionist, claiming your territory with absolute, unyielding dominance. You flashed her a wicked, razor-sharp smile. The girl's cheeks instantly flushed crimson, and she averted her eyes toward the floor, clearly mortified that she had been caught staring at a married man, beside his wife at that.

The second the threat was neutralized, your actions crashed down on you. You had absolutely no idea what had just come over you, or why the fuck you would ever do something like that over Thor. Okay, you probably—definitely did that because the thought of another woman disrespecting you by looking at your husband made you want to commit murder. Correction, supposed husband. Still he was your fucking husband for now and she was looking at him and— It’s all about you really, all good. Nothing to worry about.

Your face burned with a furious heat as you forced your gaze straight ahead, refusing to look at him, but you could feel the immense weight of his blue eyes staring down at the side of your face—burning you, fucking scorching you with an intense, questioning gaze.

Thankfully, the elevator dinged, saving you from the embarrassment.

The doors slid open, and you caught your first breathtaking sight of the upper facility. It wasn't a standard, enclosed hotel corridor. Instead, the elevator opened directly into the brilliant, open air of the cliffside. It was designed like an exclusive luxury resort enclave; the elevator connected the lower main lobby directly to an expansive, sun-drenched outdoor terrace that led to the private villa section of the property.

Stone pathways winded through lush, manicured tropical gardens, flanked by cascading water features and private infinity pools that looked like they hung off the edge of the world. The ocean breeze hit your face instantly, lifting the hem of your white dress, but the burning weight of Thor’s hand still resting firmly on your waist made it impossible to feel the cold.

You followed the receptionist, her eyes now glued strictly forward as she walked, her posture stiff with the embarrassment of the whole situation.

You tried to subtly peel yourself away from Thor’s side, but the moment you moved, the heavy grip of his hand on your waist tightened significantly. Your eyes instinctively glanced upward to him, ready to snap, but he was simply looking around at the passing scenery, appearing completely unbothered by the situation. Why wouldn't he let go? You wondered why the hell he would keep you tethered to his side like this, as if he actively wanted you there.

Then, doing something you thought you would absolutely never do, you let him. You quietly surrendered, allowing him to hold you tight against his hip as you both walked down the sun-drenched stone path.

Other elite couples passed you by, their judgmental eyes scanning you up and down as they noted the stunning, mysterious woman on the arm of the Asgardian King. This is exactly why he is keeping you glued to him, a strict, grounding voice echoed in your mind. Do not forget the objective, or the fact that you both could never, ever like each other like that. You swallowed hard, your own hand involuntarily tightening around his side for a split second. Why the fuck would you even think otherwise?

The receptionist finally approached a secluded, breathtaking cliffside villa. She opened the heavy timber door for you, stepping aside to hand you the room keycards.

The moment you stepped across the threshold, your eyes widened at the sight before you. Your blood ran completely cold. You let go of his waist immediately, and this time he actually let you.

Your hands were slightly shaking as you looked around the massive, sunlit room. Why hadn't you thought of this earlier? Ofcourse. It was painfully obvious. You were pretending to be a married couple on a honeymoon, after all.

You looked beside you only to see Thor standing entirely frozen, his lips slightly agape and his breathing turning shallow and fast as you both simultaneously realized how profoundly fucked up this mission actually was.

There was only one fucking bed.

It was a massive, ultra-luxurious king-sized bed, draped in crisp white linens and pushed directly against the center of the room, facing the glass walls that looked out over the ocean. Thor couldn't believe his own stupidity; how could he have thought he wouldn't have to share a bed with you on a mission where you were supposed to be blissfully in love? This mission was officially going to be the absolute death of him.

He slowly turned his head to look down at you, only to find you already staring up at him with completely bewildered, panicked eyes.

“I hope you like your room. Have a wonderful stay, Mr. and Mrs. Odinson,” the receptionist said, her voice finally breaking the tense silence that had descended upon the room.

The sound of her talking jolted you both out of your shared panic. You didn't even look at her fully, only giving a stiff side-eye and a tight nod before she quickly scrambled out of the room, shutting the heavy door behind her.

The second the click of the lock echoed through the villa, you spun on your heels to face him. Your voice was sharp, defensive, and entirely determined as you pointed a finger at him. “I will sleep in the bed.”

His eyes narrowed at you instantly. “No, I will,” he counter-attacked, and with two long, authoritative strides, he walked over to the bed and sat down heavily on the mattress, trying to claim the territory by physical force. You scoffed loudly, refusing to back down. You marched right over to the edge of the bed and sat down forcefully beside him, turning your body to face him dead-on. “I will,” you repeated stubbornly, your jaw locking.

Thor snorted, a challenge dancing in his blue eyes. “Okay, then. You will simply be sleeping next to me.”

Your eyes widened in sudden panic as you huffed out a sharp breath. “What?” you said, utterly bewildered by the casualness of his suggestion.

He rolled his eyes, gesturing broadly to the sprawling mattress behind him. “This is a massive bed, love. We both can fit, clearly.”

The moment the casual pet name slipped from his tongue, Thor internally bit down on it, desperately trying to maintain his stoic composure. What the fuck is my problem? he wondered, a silent storm raging in his mind as he stared at your flushed face. There was no one here to perform for. The door was locked. Yet his brain was completely short-circuiting.

Your breath hitched in your throat. Why the hell would he call you that when there wasn't a single soul around to witness it? You swallowed hard, trying to inject some of your usual venom back into your voice to hide your racing pulse. “You are ginormous, Thor. You would probably just roll over in the middle of the night and crush me to death or something—”

“I would never,” he said softly, cutting you off. He looked directly at you, his gaze suddenly changing into an intensity so deeply serious, that it made your heart give a treacherous flutter against your ribs.

You gulped, your mind going entirely blank. You tried to grasp for another excuse, another biting retort, but the gravity of his presence was making you forget everything else besides him.

Thor’s eyes roamed all over your face, desperately trying to dissect whatever panicked thoughts were racing through your mind. But as his gaze drifted downward, your bare arms caught his eye.

His breath hitched violently. His eyebrows furrowed into a deep, troubled line as his vision focused entirely on your skin.

How the hell had he never noticed them before?

Faint, jagged scars were littered all over your arms, disrupting your otherwise flawless skin. They were the unmistakable, ghostly remnants of... what? How could you have possibly acquired them? He knew you possessed an advanced healing factor—he had seen you bounce back from lethal battle wounds within hours—so if these marks remained, the trauma that caused them must have been unfathomable. It must have happened before you ever gained your abilities. But how did you even get your powers?

Thor realized, with a jarring pang in his chest, that he knew absolutely nothing about your history. He knew nothing of what had happened to you, where you had come from, or how you had earned those marks. A dark, protective rage began to brew in his chest, his breathing turning ragged as he stared at the faint lines.

You noticed the exact second his eyes shifted. A cold, suffocating dread pooled in your stomach.

Nobody outside of Tony, Steve, Natasha, and Bucky knew what had happened to you. Tony and Steve knew because they were the ones who had found you, breaking into that dark Hydra facility to save your life. Natasha knew because she was your absolute closest friend, the person who held you through the worst of the night terrors. Bucky knew only because you had trusted him with the truth, knowing he was the only one who truly understood the agony of being a broken, unwilling assassin.

But Thor? Thor hadn't been there when you were saved. He had been worlds away, dealing with the high-stakes matters of Asgard. And you, of course, had never told him. How could you? When he had finally returned to Earth and met you for the very first time, he had simply looked at you deadpan and muttered, “She looks gloomy.”

The comment had broken you. Before he had ever spoken to you, you had thought him absolutely extraordinary. The exact second you had caught sight of his legendary, powerful frame, an intense, quiet attraction had sparked inside you. But he had broken all of that in a single second by calling you gloomy, bruising your defensive ego and forcing you to react in the absolute worst way possible—yelling at him and starting a years-long war of petty arguments. He was the only person on the team who could ever get you to react with such unhinged irritation.

Now, your heart dropped straight to your stomach at the horrifying thought of him having another piece of leverage over you. He could never know the truth. You couldn't let him see your vulnerability.

As you watched his eyes frantically trace the lines on your skin, his massive left hand slowly ascended, his fingers instinctively reaching out to gently touch your arm.

The impending contact made you take a sharp, terrified breath. Your fight-or-flight response slammed into overdrive, and you abruptly stammered out a quick, “I have to pee!” Before he could even respond, you bolted off the mattress, practically running toward the privacy of the bathroom.

You rubbed your face as you gulped, staring at your reflection in the mirror.

I have to pee? Seriously? You couldn’t have found anything better to say?

The faster we are done with this, the better, you thought to yourself, anxiously pacing around the marble bathroom. Steve had said the mission could take anywhere from two days to an entire week. You were strictly determined to wrap this up in two days max—because if you didn't, so help you God, you were going to go completely insane.

You splashed ice-cold water on your face, breathing out a long, shaky exhale. You could do this. You could endure this. This was absolutely nothing compared to the horrors you had survived in your past, but for some reason, why did it feel like this was even worse?

Steeling your nerves, you finally walked out of the bathroom, only to see Thor standing outside on the terrace, his massive back turned to you. Your eyes involuntarily roamed over his broad figure, and you breathed out a long breath to calm your racing heart.

He heard you step into the room—of course he did. He turned back toward you, locking his blue eyes onto your face as he made his way back inside. “I like it here,” he mumbled, looking around the room before his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Where are our things? That servant took—”

Your eyebrows shot up instantly. “Servant?”

“Yes. The one who took our bags.”

You let out an involuntary, nervous giggle as you sat back down on the edge of the bed, rolling your eyes. “Thor, he’s not a servant. He’s a bellboy.” His brow furrowed even deeper. “Bellboy?”

“Yes. People who carry luggage to the rooms in hotels are called bellboys.”

“So... they are servants?” he repeated stubbornly. You huffed, deeply annoyed by his royal dense-headedness. “Thor, do not call anyone a servant to their face. It’s incredibly belittling and—” Right as the lecture was leaving your mouth, a sharp knock echoed from the front door.

“Ah! The servant is here,” Thor declared triumphantly, immediately striding toward the entryway to open it.

“Thor, no—” you gasped, scrambling up from the bed. You were desperately trying to intercept him, wanting to avoid a catastrophic conversation where he would inevitably embarrass the poor resort worker.

But Thor was too fast. He swung the door open and casually leaned his massive shoulder against the wall, watching the bellboy roll your three giant suitcases into the villa’s foyer. However, instead of ignoring you, Thor’s blue eyes were suddenly gleaming with pure mischief as he looked across the room at your panicked face.

Your eyes narrowed into lethal slits. You fiercely mouthed a very deliberate, aggressive 'No' to him.

But seeing your panic only made his smug smile widen. The exact second he opened his annoying, beautiful mouth to speak, your instincts slammed into overdrive. Your brain completely short-circuited. You scrambled over to him in a blind, chaotic rush. Before he could utter a single syllable, you threw yourself into his personal space, your arms wrapping securely around his thick neck as you hopped completely on top of him, forcefully pressing his face right into the crook of your neck to physically muffle his mouth against your skin.

Thor froze dead in his tracks. The sudden impact of your body would have knocked any human man flat on his back, but he didn't even sway. His breath hitched sharply, and his massive hands instinctively shot down, grabbing the back of your thighs to hold you up without breaking a single sweat.

The bellboy’s eyes went completely wide at the unexpected, intensely passionate display.

Your face burned a scorching, furious red as you awkwardly tilted your head back, your arms still locked around Thor's neck. “Just... love my husband so much, you know? Can’t help myself,” you breathed out, your voice strained as you forced a bright, desperately in love smile.

The bellboy nodded quickly, his eyes still dinner-plate wide as he awkwardly parked the luggage.

Thor’s head had been pinned right against your neck, but he suddenly lifted his head up forcefully, his godlike strength easily overriding your desperate attempt to hold him still.

“Cannot keep her hands to herself, this one,” Thor told the bellboy, a deep, rumbling chuckle vibrating through his chest. He was smiling brightly, clearly enjoying every single second of this absolute ordeal.

You literally could not believe you had just done that. You were just trying to spare the poor worker’s feelings, and—okay, fine, you absolutely did not need to jump on top of him like a koala. But in that split second of panic, your brain had completely ruled out kissing him as an option—obviously, because why were you even thinking of it in the first place?—, leaving you with no choice but to launch yourself at him to take him off guard.

The mortified bellboy practically scrambled out of the villa, quickly wishing you both a good day before slamming the door shut.

You let out a massive sigh of relief, your forehead dropping against Thor's shoulder. You hadn't even been able to give the poor guy a tip. You shook your head in deep disapproval, your gaze finally snapping back up to look at Thor.

And that’s when your brain finally caught up to the reality of your physical situation.

The room was dead silent. Thor was staring down at you with an incredibly intense, dark, and unreadable gaze. He was still holding you entirely aloft in his arms. Your legs were circled tightly around his broad waist, his heavy hands were gripping the bare skin under your thighs, and your goddamn summer dress had completely ridden up your legs. The direct, calloused touch of his palms against your skin was burning you like liquid fire.

Your breathing suddenly grew shallow and fast. Oh god. You needed to get off of him right now.

You swallowed hard, subtly shifting your weight to slide down, but his grip remained like iron bands. You couldn't move.

“You can let go now, you know?” you whispered, your voice lacking its usual bite as you stared into his intense blue eyes.

Thor aggressively cleared his throat, looking momentarily startled by how close your lips were to his. But within a fraction of a second, that goddamn smug, teasing smile started slow-burning across his face. You knew that exact expression, and it never meant anything good for your sanity.

“Why?” he murmured, his voice dropping into a low, rumbling rasp that sent a wave of heat straight to your core. “You willingly hopped into my arms, Little Flame. I might as well enjoy the embrace.”

You gasped in absolute outrage, sharply slapping his broad chest with your palm as you desperately tried to wrench yourself out of his grip. He was being annoying, cruel, and completely, fucking insufferable.

“Just let go of me, you pervert!” you snapped, your right hand desperately attempting to peel his iron grip off your bare leg.

He finally let go of you with a low, rumbling chuckle, clearly enjoying annoying you far too much for his own good. “Pervert? I am not the one who jumped blindly into your arms, Little Flame.”

You flushed a furious crimson, sharply turning your back to him to hide the heat on your face. “Let's just fucking get ready and try to find some info on our objective,” you muttered tightly. You grabbed one of your massive suitcases, plopping it down onto the luggage rack with a heavy thud, and unzipped it. Behind you, his quiet, amused chuckles continued to bounce off the walls, making your blood boil with pure anger, but you forced your mouth shut.

You aggressively rummaged through your clothes, grabbing a white, high-cut skimpy monokini and a breezy dress to wear over it. Clucthing the fabric to your chest, you marched straight back into the bathroom to get ready.

You locked the door, taking a few ragged breaths to settle your racing pulse. You fixed your hair, and carefully slipped into the monokini and the dress. Standing in front of the mirror, you let out a long exhale, though your face was still burning with a deep, stubborn embarrassment. You could do this. It was just a mission.

You emerged from the bathroom, deliberately looking anywhere but at Thor as he smoothly stepped past you to go get changed himself. You walked over to the vanity, but a few moments later, his booming, deeply confused voice echoed from the other side of the door.

“This just looks like underwear.”

The bathroom door swung open, and Thor walked out, looking down at himself with a bewildered expression. The second your eyes landed on him, you literally choked on your own spit.

He was wearing a pair of simple navy swimming trunks—and absolutely nothing else. No shirt, no linen button-down, nothing to cover the massive expanse of his upper body.

Your eyes involuntarily danced over his frame, your mouth falling slightly agape as you took him in. The midday sun streaming through the glass walls caught every single ridge of his body. Your gaze traced the thick, prominent veins running over his forearms and bulging biceps, moving up to the broad, heavy expanse of his chest, and dropping down to his rock-hard, perfectly sculpted abs.

Oh, fuck. You felt a sharp, electric flutter ignite deep down in your stomach.

“We Asgardians just go into the waters naked to swim, you know,” he stated proudly, adjusting the waistband of the trunks. “This Earth clothing feels ridiculous.”

He was probably referring to times back home when he did exactly that—swimming freely in royal Asgardian lakes, likely with beautiful women. But the sudden, intrusive mental image of going swimming with a completely naked Thor made you gulp harshly, your eyes widening in panic.

And that was the exact moment he caught the state of your face.

Thor froze. His breath hitched in his throat as his blue eyes locked onto you. Your beautiful eyes had darkened with an intense, raw heat, your gaze completely fixed on his bare chest while your sinful lips remained slightly parted. As he watched, your tongue subtly darted out to lick your lower lip, your breathing turning shallow.

The God of Thunder felt his entire frame go completely rigid in the middle of the room.

You were not thinking what he thought you were... were you? For the first time, a heavy, pounding tension that had nothing to do with anger or bickering flooded the air around you. Thor felt his heart skip a beat against his ribs at the terrifying, intoxicating thought of you actually looking at him like that, willing him to step closer.

You closed your eyes then, and the sudden, intrusive thought of him being completely naked with other women infiltrated your mind. It filled you with a strange, unexplainable feeling—a sharp, poisonous ache that you had felt before in your life but couldn't quite put your finger on. Your stomach actively churned at the mental image, a dark wave of possessiveness and frustration twisting tight inside your core mkaing you open your eyes back.

The lung-burning silence broke when you abruptly gulped, tearing your gaze away from his abdomen as your cheeks flared a bright, defensive red.

“Put a shirt on, will you?” you muttered breathlessly.

Without waiting for a response, you spun on your heel and practically bolted out onto the sun-drenched balcony, desperately needing the breeze to help you catch your breath before you completely lost your mind.

Inside, Thor’s eyebrows furrowed deeply. He stood entirely frozen in the center of the room, his heart dropping straight to his stomach at the words you had just thrown at him.

Of course.

Why the hell would he ever think you wanted him? What was he thinking? You obviously were not attracted to him in the slightest. In fact, it was the exact opposite—you clearly disliked him so much that you couldn't even bear to see a glimpse of his bare upper body, which was why you had breathlessly demanded he cover himself up.

Thor let out a low, frustrated groan, bringing his massive hands up to aggressively palm his face. Why did he even care so much? Why did your rejection sting like needles on his skin?

Steeling his posture, he marched back over to his suitcase, snatched up a matching navy t-shirt, and harshly yanked it down over his head, hiding his chest from view. He desperately needed a fucking drink. He was entirely certain there wasn’t a single alcoholic beverage on this entire planet that could properly numb his brain right now. Not even heavy Asgardian ale could get him drunk enough at this point. He actually was fucking sure there wasn't a single drink in the entire universe that could make him drunk enough to forget about you, your angelic face, these unexplainable feelings, and the damning fact that you absolutely hated him.

“Let’s go,” his deep voice boomed behind you.

Startled out of your thoughts on the balcony, you turned around and walked back inside the air-conditioned room. You quietly followed him as he strode over to the heavy front door, swinging it open and standing firmly in the entryway as he waited for you to walk past.

You went out, your wedge sandals clicking softly on the stone path as you took a deep breath of the humid air, trying to reset your frayed nerves. As you made your way down toward the main infinity pool with Thor by your side, you suddenly felt a firm, sudden tug on your hand.

Because you had left the villa first, you had been walking a few paces ahead of him, but with one effortless pull, he brought you right back next to his side. His massive palm slid against yours, his fingers wrapping around your hand and engulfing it completely.

Your pulse gave a wild, treacherous flutter. Your eyes filled with immediate, defensive questions as you snapped your head up to look at him. Your hand felt like it was on fire, your skin practically melting under the direct heat of his touch. But before you could snap at him, Thor simply gestured with a subtle tilt of his chin toward a few couples who were walking past, watching you closely.

Right. Real couples walked hand-in-hand. You were supposed to be blissfully married, so this was completely ordinary. You forced yourself to nod, your fingers slowly sliding into his, intertwining with his firmly to sell the act.

Before heading over to the pool deck, you stopped by the wooden towel stand. You grabbed two plush beach towels, offering a polite, dazzling smile and a quiet thank you to the young worker who handed them over. As you began walking toward two vacant, prime sunbeds you had spotted near the edge of the water, Thor leaned down significantly to get right on your level.

His warm breath brushed against your ear as he whispered, “Lots of servants here.”

You immediately looked up at him, your eyes boring holes into his face. “Thor, they are resort employees. Stop it,” you hissed under your breath.

A smug, infuriating smile broke across his face. He was clearly enjoying the easy way he could piss you off. Still, his hand didn't release yours; his fingers remained tightly engulfed around your hand as you finally settled right next to the vacant sunbeds.

He finally let go of your hand, though his blue eyes remained highly alert, scanning the perimeter. He took in the entire scene—the crowded pool bar, the glittering water, and the exclusive guests. Upbeat lounge music pulsed quietly from the hidden outdoor speakers as his gaze tracked the crowd.

His eyes locked onto a specific target sitting near the bar: a man with a distinct scar slicing through his left eyebrow, short black hair, and deeply bronzed skin. The stool next to the man was vacant, and he was casually sipping on a dark amber liquor—what Thor recognized as whiskey, a Midgardian drink he had tried during his time with the Avengers.

Thor turned his head back to tell you he had spotted their mark, but the words got caught in his throat.

You had already slid your dress off, leaving it pooled on the side of the chair. You were now sitting down comfortably on the sunbed, your bare legs stretched out in front of you.

The sight of your exposed skin and the incredibly skimpy, high-cut beachwear made a sudden rush of blood boil furiously through Thor's veins. His gaze darkened instantly, his eyes helplessly mapping the smooth expanse of your collarbones, your chest, and your fucking perfect legs. Oh, fuck. He literally couldn't breathe. The air vanished from his lungs, and he averted his eyes toward the sea, his heart hammering so wildly against his ribs he thought it might actually beat its way straight out of his chest.

Desperate to cool down, he aggressively cleared his throat and grabbed the hem of his t-shirt, yanking it off his body.

Your eyes remained glued strictly ahead of you, stubbornly refusing to spare him a single glance. You heard the rustle of fabric and the distinct sound of him tossing the shirt onto the table, but you refused to face him. You unfortunately felt far too many weird, dangerous things flipping in your stomach whenever you looked at his bare chest, and you weren't about to risk your sanity now. Fuck this entire operation, really, you thought bitterly.

You heard the sunbed creak as his massive weight sat down on the lounge chair right next to yours. Your positions were exactly identical, your legs laid out parallel to each other on the matching cushions. You were close—entirely too close.

Needing to ground yourself and focus on the mission, you leaned over toward him, lowering your voice to a sharp, determined whisper. “We either finish this in two days or an entire week. Let’s get this over with quickly, so that I do not have to be your wife for another—” But you had made the catastrophic mistake of turning your head to look at him while you whispered. The words died completely in your throat, and the remaining oxygen was brutally taken right out of your lungs.

Thor had laid back against the cushion, his massive, bare arms raised up next to his head to support the back of his neck. The position made his biceps and shoulders bulge spectacularly under the sunlight, the lines of his chest stretching taut.

“...second,” you trailed off breathlessly, your voice dropping to a faint whisper as you quickly snapped your head back to stare blindly at the water in front of you.

“I agree,” Thor said simply, his deep voice carrying a gravelly, tight edge as he stared straight ahead, too. “This whole ordeal is ridiculous, I’ll tell you that. There is absolutely no need to drag it out.”

You laid perfectly still on the sunbed, the intense heat baking your skin, but it was nothing compared to the suffocating tension radiating from the man lying right next to you.

What’s happening to me? you wondered frantically in your mind, trying to ground yourself as you looked around the bustling pool area. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the man with the scarred eyebrow, and a cold jolt of recognition hit you. He looked familiar because he was your target. Valentin Moretti, the spoiled, arrogant playboy of the family who handled the high-society entertainment and smuggling logistics at the resort. He was the only middleman who held the digital decryption keys to the Dark Elf tech you and Thor were trying to locate.

And right now, he was staring right at you.

The second his eyes hit you, his posture shifted. His dark eyes narrowed, deliberately burning their way down the length of your body, lingering heavily on the high-cut lines of your white monokini and your bare legs. A smooth, predatory smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. He raised his whiskey glass in a silent, incredibly bold toast directly toward you.

“I was just about to tell you I spotted our target, but it seems like he spotted you,” Thor grumbled. He glared over at Valentin, his blue eyes darkening to a stormy hue as his hands clenched into massive, white-knuckled fists behind his head. “Why the fuck is he staring at you like that?” he muttered, every single muscle in his broad frame clenching tight as he fought a losing battle to keep himself from doing something stupid. Like striking the fucker with a stray bolt of lightning.

“Thor, keep your eyes straight ahead,” you hissed back under your breath, stubbornly refusing to look at him. “Tony said he runs the security and digital access keys for the entire compound. If he’s interested, it means we have an opening.”

“An opening to what?” Thor muttered, his tone sharply biting. “He is vile. Look at how he comports himself.”

“An opening for me to get to know hi—”

“Absolutely not,” he interrupted, his voice cutting through the humid air like a sharpened blade.

Your eyebrows furrowed deeply. “What do you mean? We need him, Thor!” you whisper-shouted, sharply turning your body toward him.

He was staring literal daggers across the pool deck, his biceps bulging prominently as he breathed. He looked absolutely furious. You scoffed internally. Did the mere thought of another man being interested in you anger him this much? Did he despise you so profoundly that he couldn't even entertain the thought that a man could actually find you attractive? You breathed sharply through your nose like an enraged bull; you absolutely could not let his fragile ego fuck up this entire operation.

“I am going to the ladies room,” you announced abruptly.

You sat up, your hips shifting with a natural, subtle sway as you swung your legs off the lounge chair. The movement drew Thor’s intense gaze straight to your back, his eyes tracking you with the exact same heavy focus as a certain someone across the pool deck. Thor’s jaw clenched so hard a muscle ticked in his cheek. He knew exactly what you were doing; he was not fucking stupid. You were trying to get away from him to corner the target alone. And he was absolutely not going to let you.

You marched into the restroom, deliberately waiting inside for two full minutes to give Valentin time to notice your absence. When you finally emerged back into the bright sunshine, your eyes instantly scanned the area for Thor, but you couldn't find his giant frame anywhere near the sunbeds. Your brows knitted in concern. Where the fuck is he? You shook your head, dismissing the thought.

Continuing your way, your strides remained purposeful, your hips swaying with an intoxicating rhythm as you confidently made your way over to the open-air pool bar. You stopped right next to two stols away from Valentin, placing your hands flat on the polished marble counter.

“A cosmopolitan, please,” you told the bartender, flashing a polite smile.

Beside you, Valentin smirked and got up, sliding onto the stool right next to you. “Good afternoon,” he smoothed, his voice dripping with an arrogant, upper-class accent as he looked down at your frame. His smirk widened. “I don’t mean to intrude, but I haven't seen your face at the Sanctuary before. I am Valentin.”

You immediately forced your perfected, dazzling smile onto your face, tilting your head up to look at him. “Hello,” you said, your voice smooth, breathy, and entirely welcoming as you deliberately played the part.

Valentin’s dark eyes flashed with deep approval at your response. But just as he opened his mouth to speak, a heavy, solid weight crashed into your side.

A massive, bare arm wrapped securely around your waist, his fingers gripping your skin so tightly that your breath instantly hitched in your throat.

“Here you are, darling,” Thor muttered, leaning down so close his lips practically brushed your ear, though his icy gaze remained dead-locked onto Valentin.

“Here I am,” you said through your teeth. You forced out a light, airy giggle for appearance's sake, but underneath the counter, you aggressively pinched the skin of his arm. Just what did he think he was doing?

In response, his grip only tightened, anchoring you flush against his solid hip.

Valentin looked between the two of you, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise, though his arrogant smirk remained firmly in place. “Your companion didn't seem to care you were there just minutes ago,” Valentin noted smoothly, turning his attention entirely back to you and deliberately stepping a fraction closer to your space. “If you ever find yourself bored with the company, cara, I am always hosting private tastings in the VIP lounge upstairs. A woman of your taste shouldn't be left to just bake in the sun.”

Valentin finally flicked a dismissive, incredibly brief glance toward Thor, taking in his towering height, his bare chest, and his silent, murderous expression. Valentin chuckled softly under his breath, entirely assuming Thor was just some brainless, handsome trophy husband you kept around for arm candy.

You felt your eyes briefly close in pure panic as Thor tried to keep his mouth shut. The tension radiating off him was terrifying; he pulled you even harder against his side, his thumb digging into your waist. Didn't this mortal idiot know who he was dealing with? The God of Thunder looked like he was about to rip Valentin’s head off his shoulders and toss it directly into the infinity pool.

“My husband,” you intervened quickly, emphasizing the word heavily while throwing Thor a sharp, lethal warning glare, “is just enjoying the peace. But thank you for the invitation, Valentin. We might just take you up on that.”

“I look forward to it,” Valentin murmured, his eyes giving your body one last, shameless scan down to your bare legs. He gave a polite nod and turned back toward the bar, entirely unaware of how close he had just come to an early grave.

Thor practically dragged you out of there, his heavy grip guiding you back toward the sunbeds.

The second Valentin was out of earshot, you let out a sharp breath, turning your head to hiss at him. “What do you think you're doing?!”

Thor didn't even spare you a glance, his jaw set in a rigid line as he kept on walking, dragging you right along by his side. “I am not doing anything.” You huffed, sharply slapping his bare arm. “Thor, you're going to ruin everything!” He acted completely deaf, ignoring your slap as he kept his heavy strides forward.

“Tomorrow,” you whispered fiercely, leaning in closer to his side so none of the passing guests could overhear. “I am going to have to flirt with him to get those access codes, and you will not do things like what you just did!”

Thor’s head snapped toward you so fast your breath caught harshly in your chest. His blue eyes were burning, fucking scorching into yours with an unhinged look.

“You will not,” he growled.

You scoffed loudly, throwing your head back. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he said flatly. He finally let go of your waist, sitting back down heavily on his sunbed.

You remained standing over him, your hands flying up in pure frustration. “Is the concept of a man finding me attractive such a foreign concept to you?!” you whisper-shouted, your chest heaving.

He didn't respond as he kept looking at Valentin, his jaw locking into a tight, defensive line. Ofcourse he did not, and that was the exact problem. Any man who set their eyes on you would find you attractive and he could not fucking stand it.

It's because you cannot stand her, his mind echoed, but he knew something was desperately wron g with him.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Valentin was still watching the two of you from the bar, clearly reveling in the fact that he had caused a little disagreement between the stunning woman and her brute of a husband. Thor’s eyes darkened even further as he tracked Valentin's amused expression.

Your gaze followed Thor's, landing right on the smug target.

“Are you serious?” you muttered to Thor. Then, turning your head toward the bar, you deliberately forced a sweet smile and gave Valentin a little, subtle wave.

You turned back to Thor, sitting down forcefully on your own sunbed. “I will do what I have to do, Thor,” you said coldly, snatching up a glossy fashion magazine from the side table—one of the resort’s complimentary services.

“We’ll see about that,” Thor muttered back, his voice dangerous.

You didn't respond, your own jaw locking in a fury so intense you wanted to wrap your hands around his thick neck and strangle him.

So yeah, your day was going exactly the same. You had wanted to strangle him in the morning, and you wanted to strangle him right now. Not a single thing had changed, other than the fact that he was now your supposed husband.

You aggressively kept on turning the glossy pages of the magazine, but your gaze followed Valentin precisely. Between the articles, your sharp eyes roamed over every single person on the pool deck, dissecting them and their behaviors, mapping out the security hierarchy of the resort. But you got bored after a while, the heat and the tension becoming too much to sit through. Deciding you needed a distraction, you stood up from your sunbed to go into the pool.

The moment you stood, Thor’s intense gaze focused directly in on your stomach. The air left his lungs. There, cutting across your midriff, were the exact same faint, jagged scars. His blood ran entirely cold. Just how many of those did you have hidden across your body? He felt his stomach churn painfully, his hands going completely cold despite the blistering sun. But just as he watched you walk down the shallow steps into the water, he fucking saw Valentin look at you again.

Just why did this guy not give up?

Thor felt something violent biting at him inside—something so utterly convincing and overwhelming that his face hardened into stone. He got up immediately, his towering frame casting a shadow over the lounge chairs as he followed you straight into the water.

You were already in the pool, the cold water instantly relieving your burning skin. You swam smoothly toward the far edge, propping your elbows up on the smooth marble so you could lay your head on your hands and finally relax.

Just as you were settling in, a calm expression finally washing over your face, the entire pool rattled with the force of someone jumping in.

You whipped your head around, your eyes wide with irritation. Thor emerged from underwater a split second later, a smug, breathless smile on his face as he broke the surface just inches away from you.

“Can I not relax in peace now?” you snapped between your teeth.

But the remaining words were brutally taken right out of your lungs. Before you could slide away, Thor wrapped his massive hands securely around the back of your bare thighs, effortlessly lifting your body up in the water. The sudden momentum left you with no choice but to instinctively circle your legs around his broad waist to keep from slipping.

“What are you doing?” you whispered into his ear, completely breathless. Despite the panic racing through your veins, you forced a bright, blinding honeymoon smile for the sake of the couples swimming near you, whose bewildered, intrigued expressions were already focused entirely on the two of you.

“I am enjoying the cold water with my wife,” he murmured back. His warm breath fanned heavily over the sensitive skin of your neck as he intentionally cornered you, crowding your front while your back was pressed against the marble edge of the pool you had been relaxing on seconds ago.

Your hands instinctively found his neck, your fingers gripping his shoulders while your thumbs lightly played with the short hairs at the nape of his neck. You looked at him, your lips dangling a mere inch away from his. You could feel his steady breath fanning over your mouth, making your lips tingle with soul-burning want.

Why the hell were your lips tingling with want? Oh, god. Your face burned with a furious, internal heat as your eyes helplessly locked onto his mouth. Both of your chests heaved, brushing against one another in the water.

“I am not your real wife, Thor,” you breathed out, trying desperately to ground yourself. “I don’t need you touching me every five seconds—”

“I don’t need anyone here thinking you are available.”

“What?” you whispered, your heart giving a massive flutter against your ribs.

“Fake or not, Little Flame,” he growled softly, his blue eyes turning incredibly dark as his grip on your thighs tightened. “I am your fucking husband, and every man on this island will know it. I will make sure of it.”

He smirked, and before you could even process his words, he leaned in and pressed a firm, lingering kiss directly to your flushed cheek. You gasped in absolute shock, your skin scorching where his lips met your face. As he pulled back just a fraction, your noses brushed. You looked directly into his eyes, feeling yourself grow hotter and hotter and hotter—

“My honorary guests! You made it!”

A booming, boisterous voice suddenly erupted from above you. You both snapped your heads up, startled out of the suffocating bubble, and saw Alejandro Moretti himself standing on the pool deck. He was smiling down at the two of you, his arms spread wide in a grand, welcoming gesture.

You aggressively cleared your throat, your training forcing you to seamlessly recover. “Hello, Mr. Moretti. It's a pleasure to meet you,” you said, forcing a dazzling smile as you introduced yourself and extended a wet hand up toward the him.

He immediately took it, bowing his head slightly. “It is my absolute pleasure,” he said warmly. “You are the wife of the mighty Thor, after all!” He chuckled loudly, before turning his glowing gaze entirely back to Thor. “Big fan, man. Big fan.”

Moretti extended his hand toward him, and Thor took it, a wide, proud smile immediately breaking across his face because he was being praised. God, he absolutely loved being praised, didn't he?

Moretti started talking rapidly, listing off Thor’s various accomplishments while keeping a firm, enthusiastic grip on his hand. Rolling your eyes privately, you used the distraction to unwrap your legs from Thor's waist, pulling yourself off his torso and slipping back into the water.

The moment you detached yourself, Thor's hand snapped out, tightening firmly around your wrist. He immediately tore his attention away from Moretti, looking down at you. “Where are you going, sweetheart?”

The casual nickname made your entire stomach flutter dangerously.

“Gonna go dry off, honey,” you said, matching his energy as you pulled yourself up slightly to plant a swift, fake peck on his cheek. “Just a bit cold.”

“I will come with you,” Thor insisted immediately, his cheek burninh as his eyes tracking your movement.

“Ah, newlyweds,” Moretti chuckled fondly at the display, shaking his head. “Always so full of love, am I right?”

You gave him a dry, polite chuckle and quickly swam toward the pool steps to get out. As you and Thor stepped onto the stone deck, grabbing your towels, Moretti walked right alongside you, refusing to leave Thor’s side for even a single second. It was like he wanted Thor all to himself.

How can someone not want him, though? the thought involuntarily slipped into your mind.

You froze dead in your tracks, your towel clutched tightly in your hands as your own mind echoed back to you.

No. You did not want him. Certainly not. You didn't, you couldn't—

You closed your eyes, letting out a long, defeated sigh.

You fucking wanted him. And he could never know.

—

You were getting ready, painting a sharp, precise wing of black eyeliner over your eyelid as you desperately tried to keep yourself intact.

Moretti had invited the both of you to the exclusive resort party taking place tonight. Well, you were going to go either way for the sake of the mission, but he had explicitly invited you as his honorary guests.

After the you realizedthat you actually wanted Thor, you had started to see him in an entirely different light. You had felt physically nauseous by the fact that you wanted him, wanting nothing more than to run back to the villa to self-reflect and figure out exactly where your life had gone wrong. But he had not left you alone for a single second. The moment you had said you were going to the room, he had immediately gotten up and followed you back to the room. He had looked so genuinely caring while doing it, which only made an unwelcome swarm of butterflies erupt in your stomach. And the fact that he looked so so good—

Ugh, you were doing it again.

“Are you ready, Little Flame?” came Thor’s deep voice from behind the bathroom door.

You took one good look at yourself in the mirror, your gaze traveling down from your flawless makeup to the white midi dress that hugged your curves perfectly, down to your elegant heeled sandals. You looked hot. Absolutely lethal.

You swung the bathroom door open, only to be hit dead-on with the sight of him waiting in the foyer.

His lips parted, falling slightly agape as his eyes traveled over you, taking you in. His towering, formidable frame was clad in tailored cream linen trousers and a crisp white linen shirt, finished with beige loafers.

Your heart stopped dead in your chest. Was he actively trying to kill you? He was already breathtakingly handsome on a regular day, but the fact that he was dressing like that was doing completely unspeakable things to your sanity.

Thor felt the air brutally ripped from his lungs the exact second you emerged. His blue eyes aggressively roamed over your face, your sharp eyeliner, and the way the white dress accentuated your flawless form. Now, why the hell did you have to look like this and still have the absolute audacity to hate him?

His breathing became distinctly ragged, his eyes darkening to a stormy, dangerous hue as the possessive thought of other men witnessing your beauty tonight overtook his mind. But he forced his muscles to relax as he reminded himself that this hotel was strictly full of wealthy couples. It was fine. You were anchored to him. Right?

“Let’s go, big guy,” you said, averting your gaze in absolute panic as you brushed past his broad shoulder and made your way out of the villa.

Thor’s eyebrows shot up in utter bewilderment. He stood frozen for a second before turning to follow you out onto the stone path closing the door behind him, his voice clearly dripping with a deep, rumbling amusement. “Big guy?”

Your face burned a scorching, furious hot at your own slip of the tongue. You usually never called him anything other than petty names specifically engineered to irritate him, so what the fuck was that now?

“You... are massive. And a man?” you stammered out, desperately trying to make light of the situation as you walked ahead of him, your heels clicking sharply.

“Hm,” Thor just grunted behind you. You couldn't see his face, but you could hear the triumphant smile in his voice as the two of you made your way down toward dinner.

The revelation that you were actually attracted to him was making you go completely crazy, and you were already fucking it all up. Your brain was entirely short-circuiting over how mind-numbingly handsome he looked in that white linen shirt, and calling him big guy of all things was proof that you were losing your edge. All through dinner, you were on high alert, desperately trying to hide your lingering glimpses toward his muscular arms and his stupidly handsome face, praying he wouldn't notice the sudden shift in your behavior.

Dinner itself had been an exercise in damage control. Thor had absolutely loved the food, boisterously shouting “Another!” to the waitstaff every time he finished a plate, leaving you to look at the waiters with highly apologetic eyes. You had quickly smoothed it over, telling them with a charming laugh how incredibly enthusiastic your husband was about their exquisite cuisine. Far from being offended, the staff had been completely fascinated by Thor, even asking for his signature—though the poor guys couldn't take any pictures due to the resort's strict high-society privacy policy.

Once dinner was finally over, you made your way to the actual party.

The bass from the music blasted your ears off the second you walked through the entrance. Thor’s heavy hand was firmly circled around your bare waist, anchoring you to his side as you looked around the crowded open-air venue. You bit your lip, doing everything in your power to mask your fastened heartbeat and the slight panic tracing your expression. To maintain the doting newlyweds facade, your own arm was stretched across Thor’s broad back.

And god, how magnificent that back was. Through the thin linen of his shirt, you could feel the solid, dangerous planes of his muscles right beneath your palm. It made you wonder, in a rogue, intrusive thought, if you could paint that flawless skin red with your nails, leaving little scratches down his—

oh my god, shut up, girl, you fiercely scolded yourself in your mind, your face flashing a blistering hot.

As you walked deeper into the VIP section toward Alejandro Moretti’s table, you spotted Valentin right next to him.

The exact millisecond Valentin came into view, you could feel every single muscle in Thor’s body tense up beneath your hand. Pure instinct took over, you gave the small of his back a soft, deliberate little squeeze, a silent warning to stay grounded.

The touch made Thor instantly look down at you, his blue eyes full of an intense, sweeping emotion you couldn't quite name. Your mind raced. Why the fuck were you trying to calm him down? And why the hell was he getting so intensely tense in the first place?

“Don’t make a scene,” you whispered fiercely up to him, looking at him through your lashes as you kept your voice strictly beneath the thumping bass.

“Do not make me make a scene,” he grumbled back, his deep voice heavily unpleased as his grip on your waist tightened.

Alejandro Moretti immediately got up from his leather booth the moment he saw you approach. “Ah! Here they are!” he announced loudly, his arms thrown wide open in a grand greeting.

Thor smiled brightly, his deep, booming laugh filling your ears as he stepped forward to enthusiastically embrace the billionaire, playing the part of the larger-than-life husband a little too well. You let out a bright, airy laugh right on cue, looking up at them as you seamlessly executed the role of the loving, supportive wife.

From across the table, Valentin was staring directly at you, a confident, knowing smirk pulling at his lips.

Alejandro turned proudly to his younger brother, gesturing toward the two of you. “My guests of honor, Valentin! This is Thor, and his lovely wife.”

Valentin’s dark eyebrows furrowed in immediate confusion. “Thor?”

“Yes! The God of Thunder!” Alejandro chuckled heartily, totally oblivious to the shift in the air as he gestured for everyone to sit down.

The arrogant smirk was instantly wiped entirely off Valentin’s face. He stood frozen, likely wondering how the hell he hadn't recognized the literal Avenger at the pool bar earlier.

“Ah,” Valentin cleared his throat, cautiously extending his hand across the table, even as Thor threw absolute, unyielding daggers at him with his icy gaze. “My pleasure.”

Thor’s lips pulled into a wide, bright smile as he reached out and took Valentin’s hand. But you knew that exact smile entirely too well—it was the predatory, sharp-edged smile he regularly threw at you whenever you managed to annoy him to death in public. It was the smile of a Thor who was profoundly angry, masking his rage with a lethally graceful diplomacy.

His godlike grip must have tightened a fraction too much around Valentin’s fingers, because the smug playboy’s face instantly grimaced in pain, his knuckles turning white under the force of the god’s hand.

You tapped lightly on Thor’s elbow, giving him a subtle, pointed signal to let go before he completely pulverized the man's hand. He finally released his grip, though his blue eyes continued to burn right through Valentin, his other arm instantly wrapping tight around your waist again to pull you back into his orbit.

You went to sit down in the plush leather booth, but Thor deliberately shuffled his massive frame, placing himself directly between you and Valentin to completely block the playboy's line of sight. You rolled your eyes privately. He was obviously being this intensely possessive because the entire resort had to believe you were blissfully married, but he was playing the part a little too well for your sanity.

Alejandro, ever the fanboy, was visibly disappointed by the seating arrangement—he was now sitting on your other side instead of right next to the God of Thunder—but he stopped himself from saying anything to avoid offending his royal guest.

So began the endless praises for Thor.

“I must say, King Thor, having you here at the Sanctuary is a historic honor!” Alejandro beamed, gesturing for a waiter to pour more whiskey. “The stories of your victories on Earth, the Battle of New York, the triumph over Malekith... truly spectacular! A god walking among mortals!”

Thor smiled brightly, his booming laugh easily cutting through the lounge music as his arm remained locked securely around your waist, his thumb lazily stroking your side through the fabric of your dress. “Ah, you are too kind, Alejandro! But a King must protect the realms. The battle against the Dark Elves was indeed a fierce one, requiring absolute precision and power.”

As he spoke the word precision, Thor casually leaned back, his icy gaze flicking past you to check if Valentin was looking at you. Finding Valentin’s eyes darting toward your bare shoulders, Thor’s grip on your waist tightened possessively, his jaw clenching as he seamlessly continued his story. “We had to secure ancient, dangerous technologies to ensure they never fell into the wrong hands. It takes a truly formidable force to handle such secrets.”

“Incredible,” Alejandro said, hanging on his every word. “And to manage such cosmic feats while keeping a beautiful wife by your side!”

“She is my greatest anchor,” Thor murmured, his deep voice dropping into a low tone as he turned his head to look down at you. His eyes searched your face with a burning, unreadable intensity that made your heart skip a violent beat. “No matter how chaotic the universe becomes, she is the only one who can truly command my attention.”

You gulped, your eyes helplessly searching his face, desperately trying to read the heavy gravity in his expression. But before you could decipher it, a question cut through the air—one you should have anticipated much sooner.

“So, how did you two meet?” Valentin asked, his voice smooth as he leaned forward. His dark eyes actively tried to find your frame past Thor's broad shoulders, but Thor was absolutely wiping you from his sight, shifting his weight to keep you entirely hidden.

Your blood ran cold. A sudden wave of panic rushed through you, and as you snapped your eyes to Thor, you saw the exact same flash of panic mirrored in his blue eyes. You had never rehearsed a backstory.

“I saw him—” you began hastily, just as Thor started, “We saw each other—”

Your voices mixed awkwardly over the thumping bass of the music. Alejandro looked between the two of you expectantly, his eyebrows raised.

You quickly forced a light, melodic laugh, covering the slip-up as you spoke over each other. Tilting your head up, you offered Thor a brilliant, adoring smile. “My husband should tell you about this one. He’s a real good storyteller, aren't you, darling?” You squeezed his shoulder, your fingers digging into his shirt.

Thor’s hold tightened around your waist, his thumb pressing firmly into your side. “I must let you take over this one, my dear. Your perspective is far more enchanting.”

“I insist,” you said, your voice dripping sweet as honey, though you locked eyes with him in a silent, lethal challenge. You knew pushing the spotlight onto him annoyed him to his absolute core.

“Very well,” he grumbled under his breath, leaning back into the booth. He cleared his throat, his posture shifting into something commanding. Valentin had slid over a bit to the side of the table, desperate to finally see you both, his sharp eyes intensely dissecting the two of you for any cracks in the facade.

“We met years ago, when she was first recruited to the team,” Thor began, his deep baritone rumbling through his chest. He paused, his blue eyes dropping down to look at you, the heavy lounge music suddenly fading into absolute background noise. “I saw her walk into the room. A beautiful woman. Truly, the most breathtaking creature I had ever laid my eyes upon.”

You looked up at him, fully expecting to see a detached, calculated look in his eyes—the face of a soldier executing a calculated lie. But your heart slammed against your ribs. You were shaken to your core at the raw, truthful look in his gaze. Your breath hitched, turning ragged in your chest.

He chuckled softly, the sound low and intimate, as if he had completely forgotten Alejandro and Valentin were even sitting across from them. “But she looked like she had dark, stormy clouds swarming all over her. She was so heavily guarded. So, my brain short-circuited, and I called her gloomy.”

Alejandro’s eyes widened, a grin breaking across his face. “No way!”

Your jaw clenched as the vivid memory made your blood boil all over again. Why the fuck was he telling them what actually happened?

“I know, I shouldn't have,” Thor murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. His gaze was burning into you, scorching you with a look that made your skin prickle. “But seeing her face... my mind simply stopped working. That was the only thing I could utter. And do you know what she did?” He looked over at Alejandro, a genuine, fond smile pulling at his lips. “She didn't cower. She didn't stay silent. She yelled at me. She marched right up to my face and screamed about what a massive, insufferable asshole I was.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in deep, defensive confusion. Wht was he chuckling about that? He had hated you for it.

“She was the first woman to ever yell at me like that, without a single shred of fear, without holding back an ounce of her fire,” Thor said, his voice a raspy register, thick with a devotion that felt terrifyingly real. He reached down, his large hand gently cupping the side of your face, his thumb softly tracing your cheekbone. The tender touch sent a violent jolt of electricity straight down your spine. “That’s when I realized... right there, in the middle of her fury. That’s when I realized she was the love of my life.”

You gulped, your hands clenching into tight fists against your lap. The air was brutally ripped from your lungs. You literally couldn't breathe under the sheer weight of his stare. He was looking down at you as if you were the most precious, sacred thing he had ever been allowed to hold.

“Then, I chased her for years,” Thor continued smoothly, finally tearing his gaze away from your frozen face to smile at Alejandro. “Trying to get her to agree to a single date. I brought flowers to her quarters every single day, trying to melt the ice. She finally caved in after a while... and here we are.”

Thor cleared his throat letting go of your face and adjusting his shirt as Alejandro let out a captivated sigh.

Your gaze remained completely stuck on the line of Thor's neck, your mind spinning in absolute confusion. He had sounded so entirely sincere when he described your beauty. The way he explained falling in love with your fire, it sounded like poetry.

He isn't in love with you, a harsh, grounding voice violently intervened in your mind. He is lying through his teeth to save the mission. He made it all up. You desperately tried to pull yourself together, reciting the mantra over and over: He hates you. He has hated you for years.

But as you sat there, enveloped in the heat of his massive body, a sharp ache bloomed deep in your chest at the reminder of his hatred.

Why did your chest ache at his hatred towards you? And why did it hurt so bad?

“That is just beautiful,” Alejandro breathed, raising his glass in a toast. “A match made in the heavens, truly.”

You swallowed the thick lump in your throat, forcefully shaking the daze out of your head. Forcing your muscles to relax, you put on a flawless, dazzling smile for show, leaning deeper into your fake husband's side while your heart shattered quietly into a million pieces.

The subject changed then, Alejandro and Thor talking about other things while Thor gave you occasional little pecks on your cheek, his lips lingering just enough to keep your heart beating frantically in your mouth.

“Why haven't you two kissed?” Valentin asked suddenly, his voice sharply cutting through the conversation of the two men. His dark eyes roamed all over your face, calculating and deeply skeptical.

What?

Thor turned toward him immediately, his posture shifting into something lethal. “What do you mean, mortal? I’ve been doing nothing but kiss her since we sat down.” His blue eyes narrowed into dangerous slits at Valentin.

“You keep kissing her on her cheeks. Why not on the lips?” Valentin pushed, his gaze sharp and dissecting.

Thor’s gaze darkened to absolute midnight. “It is not your place to ask such questions.”

The playboy had been watching you far too closely; you should’ve seen this one coming. Valentin leaned back, a smug, accusatory grin slowly returning to his face. “You’re acting like you’re pretending—”

Your heart stopped dead in your chest.

“Do not speak one more word, mortal,” Thor spoke, his deep voice dropping an octave as he raised a single, threatening finger.

Alejandro’s expression changed instantly. He looked at his brother with sudden seriousness, his tone sharp. “Leave our guests alone, Val.” But then, Alejandro’s eyes dropped down to the floor for a split second, as if he were mentally calculating something. He turned back toward you, his brow furrowing. “But... he is right. Why haven't you kissed her?”

Your heart started beating faster and faster, a wave of ice-cold panic rushing to your fingertips. Your cover was about to be completely blown right here in the VIP section. Thor’s gaze darkened even further, clearly unpleased and deeply tense at being questioned. This was not good. You had to do something, and you had to do it right now.

“She is my wife—” Thor started angrily, but you smoothly interfered.

With an effortless, confident laugh, you dismissed the two brothers with a casual wave of your hand, acting as if they were nothing more than little, annoying flies. Your left hand found Thor’s massive bicep as you elegantly crossed your legs, slanting them directly over his thick thighs.

Responding to the sudden contact, Thor's arm instinctively wrapped around your back, his eyes snapping down to look at you immediately. What were you doing?

“My husband and I are very passionate,” you said, your voice dripping with a sultry, unbothered confidence as your hand trailed seductively over the broad expanse of his chest. “We try to keep the PDA to a minimum so we don't make people uncomfortable. Should we show them, honey?”

You looked completely unshakable, but inside, your heart was threatening to leap straight out of your chest. The skin of your legs burned where your thighs were glued to his.

Thor’s chest heaved tightly beneath your fingers as you looked up at him through your lashes. His heart missed a beat at the breathtaking sight of you in his lap. Fuck. You both knew exactly what had to be done right now, or the entire mission was over.

Thor’s large hand found the back of your neck, his fingers tightening securely. “Music to my fucking ears, darling,” he growled.

And then, he claimed your lips in an instant. The force of the impact took the remaining breath right out of your lungs. Your left hand instinctively grabbed the back of his neck, your fingers anchoring into his skin, while your other hand remained flat against his heaving chest. Your mouths moved in tandem, a low, helpless sigh of contentment pouring from your throat straight into the kiss. Your head tilted to the side, completely surrendering to the heat.

His right hand on your back slid downward to your waist, grabbing you with an iron, desperate tightness, as if he never intended to let you go for the rest of his immortal life. His other hand moved from the back of your neck up to your head, his thick fingers tangling aggressively through your hair, tilting your face up by giving a firm, sudden tug on your hair. You gasped into his mouth, your teeth sharply biting his lower lip in response. Thor let out a low grunt, his kisses instantly becoming more fervent, deeper, and completely unhinged. You were drowning in him.

Next to you, Alejandro and Valentin looked at each other, their faces flushing as they clearly regretted ever opening their mouths. They were visibly uncomfortable—good. They deserved to be, so they would never question a single thing about the two of you again.

He was entirely consuming you, and gods, was he liking it. He felt the soft circle of your thumb over the nape of his neck, sending a violent wave of chills straight down his spine. You tasted sweet—sweeter than any other lips he had ever tasted in his thousand years of life. Thor licked at the seam of your lips once, a non-verbal command motioning for you to open up for him. You tried to fight it for a split second, a last shred of self-preservation, but he forcefully made you part them by giving your lower lip another sharp bite and executing a firm tug on your hair.

You gasped, your chest heaving against his as he glided his tongue over yours. He was so good at this. So fucking good that you completely forgot where you were, forgot the mission, forgot anyone else existed besides him. He tugged tightly on your waist, trying to pull your body even closer into his mass, but you were already entirely glued to him, his radiating heat burning straight through your side.

Alejandro loudly cleared his throat, but you both kept on going like there was no tomorrow, still kissing him with a desperate, hidden hunger, as if you knew you would never get the chance to hold him like this ever again.

“Okay. We get it,” Valentin muttered, his voice clearly irritated and completely full of deep regret.

Thor let out a heavy grunt, finally parting his lips from yours. A thin, glistening string of saliva formed between your lips before breaking in the dim light. You looked up at him, your eyes completely dazed over, your hair beautifully messed up from his heavy hand, and your lips visibly swollen and red. He stared down at you, his own lips flushed and his pupils blown incredibly wide as his chest rose and fell in ragged breaths.

Taking a shallow breath, you slowly turned your head toward the other two men, a wicked, victorious smile pulling at your lips. “See?” you said.

You tried not to give away how much his kiss had affected you, but you knew you were a fucking mess. Your heart was threatening to leap out of your chest, your lungs heaving fast as you gulped, desperately trying to calm yourself down. How the hell did he affect you this much?

And he was still holding you, his arm wrapped incredibly tight around your waist as he kept looking down at you. His own broad chest was heaving hard as he fought a losing battle to get himself back under control.

It was just a damn kiss for the mission. He shouldn't be this completely unhinged by it. But he felt his pulse fasten more and more the longer he sat there. You had kissed him. You—the bane of his very existence, the woman who had spent years yelling at him and riling him up—had kissed him, and he had liked it. He had liked it so much that a dark, primitive part of his mind wanted nothing more than to drag you right back to his lips, to kiss you heavily until you were breathless, and to roam his hands all over your bare skin, thats all—nothing big really.

He fucking wanted you, and it was nothing big—who was he kidding? It was probably the biggest newsflash in his entire thousand-year lifetime. He wanted you so much that he felt it shaking the very foundations of his immortal soul.

I want her, his mind echoed fiercely. I want her, I want to consume her, I want to be completely consumed by her.

Thor averted his eyes toward the table, his jaw locking. Fuck. How the hell did this happen?

“Yes, we get it, damn,” Alejandro said, breaking the heavy silence with a loud laugh, holding his hands up in surrender.

Valentin, however, was a completely different story. His dark, calculating gaze was still locked dead on your face, intensely trying to decipher the lingering daze in your eyes, trying to see if there was still a crack in the armor—if he could keep on pursuing you.

You noticed his stare immediately, your eyes locking onto his. A sharp jolt of reality hit you. You were sitting in Thor's lap, your thighs crossed over his, kissed by him so thoroughly that your mind had gone entirely blank. You had completely forgotten about your objective.

The codes. You needed the damn digital decryption keys.

You had told Thor earlier that you would handle Valentin tomorrow, but after the possessive display he had just put on, he would clearly find a way to interfere if you tried to flirt with the man tomorrow. It had to be tonight. It had to happen right now under the cover of this party.

Your mind rapidly formulated a plan: you had to first find a way to get away from Thor, corner Valentin alone at the bar, seduce him, and slip a few drops of truth serum into his whiskey glass to extract the server access codes.

It was a perfect, textbook assassin execution. But as you sat there, feeling the heavy, protective weight of Thor's hand on your hip, you realized something. You didn't want to leave the comfort of Thor's embrace.

Oh, how thoroughly, hopelessly fucked you were.

You had to get it together. Bracing yourself, you tried lifting your legs off Thor’s lap, but the exact second you shifted, his iron hold on your waist tightened. His eyebrows furrowed into a hard line, and his questioning, blazing blue gaze snapped up to lock onto yours. He didn’t say a word, but the look in his eyes was loudly demanding to know exactly where the hell you thought you were going.

Why was he acting like this? Why was he looking at you as if that kiss had completely unhinged him just as much as it had affected you?

You helplessly looked into his eyes, your gaze involuntarily dropping down to his swollen lips before snapping back up to his stare. “I’m just going to the bar,” you murmured.

“I’ll come with you,” he said immediately. His deep voice carried a rough, unyielding edge, his instincts focusing entirely on one single objective: keep that vile mortal fucker as far away from you as humanly possible.

“No!—” you scrambled out, a little too desperately, before quickly forcing a soft, reassuring smile to maintain the act. “I’ll be back in a second, honey. It’s okay.”

This felt devastatingly real. He looked genuinely jealous, his possessive aura radiating off him in suffocating waves.

“She can go alone, my friend. I own this entire establishment; nothing could possibly happen to her here,” Alejandro intervened with a booming laugh, reassuring the tense god.

Taking the opening, you carefully slipped out of Thor’s tight grip and stood up. The sudden lack of his heavy hands and burning heat against your skin left you feeling instantly cold, a sudden pang of withdrawal hitting you in the chest. You stubbornly ignored it. Catching Valentin’s eye across the table, you held his gaze for a few seconds longer than any happily married woman ever should, throwing him a subtle, inviting tilt of your head before turning on your heel and making your way toward the crowded bar—finally out of Thor’s direct line of sight.

You knew Valentin would make up a pathetic excuse to follow you within minutes. Arriving at the bar, you caught the bartender’s attention. “A virgin mojito, please,” you ordered smoothly. You were a professional; you were absolutely not going to consume a single drop of alcohol while on an active extraction mission.

You waited for a few minutes, slowly sipping on your refreshing mocktail while keeping your perimeter scan active. Right on cue, a smooth, arrogant voice slithered in next to your ear.

“I take it you didn’t look at me like that back there just to have a drink all by yourself?”

Valentin slid onto the barstool right next to you, his eyes brimming with a smug, predatory confidence.

A slow, practiced smirk pulled at your lips as you gracefully turned your upper body toward him, leaning one elbow against the counter. “I don’t think I get what you mean, Valentin.”

“Don’t play innocent. It’s not a good look on you,” he murmured, his eyes boldly dropping down to the neckline of your dress before rising back to your face. “Though, I must admit... I really like this whole going-around-his-back thing. A dangerous woman gets me thrilled.”

“Hm,” you mumbled, your smile becoming as beautiful and lethal as a viper's. You leaned in a fraction closer into his personal space, letting your voice drop into a sultry, confidential whisper. “Are you just going to stand there talking, or are you gonna have a drink with me?”

Valentin’s smirk widened, completely intoxicated by the sudden green light. “I could never say no to a woman like you.” He immediately raised a hand to the bartender. “Get me a double Macallan, neat.”

As the bartender turned around to pour the amber liquor, you covertly slid your right hand into the small, hidden pocket built into the lining of your white midi dress. Your fingertips brushed against the tiny, cold glass vial containing S.H.I.E.L.D.-issued truth serum—colorless, odorless, and fast-acting.

The bartender placed the heavy crystal whiskey glass right in front of Valentin.

“You know,” you purred, deliberately reaching across Valentin's chest to grab a small bowl of nuts from the opposite side of his stool. The intentional movement forced your bare shoulder to brush heavily against his chest, completely breaking his concentration as his eyes locked onto your neck.

With a fluid, invisible grace, your thumb flicked the cap off the vial. As your arm crossed over his open whiskey glass, you seamlessly dropped three drops of the serum directly into the amber liquid.

You pulled back, placing the bowl between you with an innocent, dazzling smile. “A toast. To private tastings.”

“To private tastings,” Valentin echoed darkly, completely oblivious. He picked up the crystal glass and took a massive, confident gulp of the whiskey, swallowing the serum down in one smooth motion.

You counted the seconds in your head. Three. Two. One.

Almost instantly, Valentin’s posture relaxed a fraction too much. The sharp, predatory spark in his eyes suddenly dulled into a slight, hazy glaze, his blinking slowing down as the neural inhibitors rapidly flooded his system, forcing his vocal cords to lose all capacity for deception.

Your smirk turned razor-sharp. It was time to get to work.

“Valentin,” you whispered, leaning in so close your breath brushed his ear, masking your interrogation beneath the thumping bass of the party. “Let’s talk about your brother’s collection. Where are the digital decryption keys for the Dark Elf technology stored?”

Valentin’s jaw loosened, his voice coming out completely flat, devoid of its previous arrogant inflection. “The main encryption drive stays locked in the master server vault... sub-level two of the main villa compound. Hold on why are you asking me th—”

“And how do I bypass the biometric firewall?” you cut him off before he could think.

“The security bypass code changes every twelve hours,” Valentin droned automatically, his hand resting limply against the counter.

“Mhm, and what is it lets say... tomorrow night?” you pushed seamlessly, your eyes locked onto his dazed face.

“Tomorrow night's terminal override sequence for the vault is... Alpha-Niner-Seven-X-Ray-Delta.”

Bingo.

Your brain instantly memorized the alphanumeric sequence, a cold, triumphant rush of adrenaline flooding your veins. You had the codes for tomorrow. The entire mission could be wrapped up in less than three days, just like you wanted. You could finally leave this godforsaken resort, get away from this cover, and most importantly—get away from the dangerous, addictive pull of the God of Thunder.

Valentin pouted as he looked at you, his eyes glassy and confused under the weight of the serum. "But why are you asking me all th—"

“I have to go, dear,” you cut him off quickly, placing a hand on his bicep and giving it a soothing squeeze to keep him compliant.

But his hand snapped up, gripping your arm to keep you from pulling away. “No, you can't leave. I had plans for us tonight...”

“No plans for us today,” you cooed, lowering your voice to a soft, hypnotic purr as you playfully booped his nose. He pouted even more at the gesture. You mentally rolled your eyes, already looking back toward the crowded VIP booth to check on Thor.

“But I wanted to fuck you—“

You whipped your head back toward Valentin so fast you thought you were going to get whiplash. But before you could even react to his crude words, he was brutally cut off.

A massive hand descended from the shadows like a falling meteor, wrapping entirely around the back of Valentin’s head and fiercely slamming his face straight down onto the marble counter.

Crack.

You gasped, your eyes blowing wide. Nearby guests screamed and immediately scrambled away, completely shocked by the sudden, violent ordeal. Valentin let out a pathetic, muffled groan as a dark stream of red instantly started dripping down his nostrils, pooling on the counter.

Thor held him pinned there, his massive hand basically covering most of Valentin's skull. You were so damn sure that if he applied just a fraction more pressure, he would crush the man's head like a ripe grape.

“You do not talk to my wife like that,” Thor growled, his voice a vibrating rumble that shook the very foundation of the bar.

“Thor, stop it!” you panicked, your hands desperately finding his rigid bicep, trying to pull his arm back.

Muffled against the stone, Valentin let out a wet, dizzy chuckle, the serum making him completely reckless. “Well, god-man... your wife lured me here—“

Slam.

Thor violently cracked his head against the counter a second time.

“I told you not to make a scene, didn't I?!”you yelled at the top of your lungs over the blasting music, frantically pulling at his arm to stop him from committing murder.

Thor slowly turned his head to look down at you. His blue eyes were completely blown with an unhinged, primitive rage. “I told you not to make me make one, did I not?!” he yelled back, his booming voice completely overriding the bass of the blasting lounge music.

You involuntarily flinched at the volume and raw power of his voice. You let out a sharp, furious huff, tore your hands off his arm, and turned around to bolt.

“Where do you think you're going?!” he demanded loudly.

He finally let go of Valentin, leaving theman to groan and slump heavily against the bar as you made your way out of the party. Every single eye of the high-society couples was locked onto you, whispering in terror as you stormed past.

“Stop!” Thor yelled after you, his heavy footsteps echoing right behind you, but your steps only fastened into a dead sprint.

You practically flew down the dark, stone paths of the resort, making your way back to the secluded villa. There wasn't a single soul around out here.

“I told you to stop!” he yelled again, his massive strides easily closing the distance as he caught up to you just as you reached the front door.

“And I told you to behave!” you screamed back, throwing the door open and slamming it behind you, desperately trying to force the heavy wood to lock on his face.

But you failed miserably.

“And I told you to stay away from him!” Thor yelled, forcing the door open without a single shred of effort—it was probably like flicking away a fly for him—before he aggressively slammed it shut behind him, sealing the two of you inside the tense silence of the villa.

“Why do you care?!” you yelled, throwing your arms up in the air as you spun around to face him, your face burning hot from rage.

“Why did you defy what I told you?” he pushed, stepping heavily into your personal space, his towering chest heaving.

“Because you are my mission partner, not my superior!”you shrieked, the built-up frustration of the last few hours completely boiling over. “God! You and your insufferable superiority complex!” You yelled again, aggressively turning your back to him to get away from his presence, making a beeline toward the open balcony doors.

“Do not walk away from me!” Thor roared.

In two quick strides, he crossed the room. His hand locked firmly around your wrist, his grip unyielding but careful not to break you, as he yanked you back and turned you around to face him dead-on.

You opened your mouth to say something, but all words completely left you as you noticed how your noses were inches away, your breathing fastening to a panicked, ragged rhythm as you looked up at him. His chest was heaving just like yours, the sheer mass of him completely crowding you into the balcony's door. You just gulped, your eyes helplessly finding his lips again before you forced your gaze up to meet his intense stare.

“Why are you acting like you actually care?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly, your eyes filled with deep questioning. His eyes, which were locked onto your lips, finally flicked up to look directly into your eyes. He gulped, a muscle tightening in his jaw as he flatly lied, “I don’t.” He averted his eyes immediately after.

He cared. He fucking cared so much, but he could not let you know.

You scoffed loudly at his terrible deflection. “What’s all this then? You’ve been acting so strange since we got here—” His eyes snapped right back to yours, flashing with a sudden heat. “Oh, like you haven’t!” he said, his iron grip on your wrist tightening just a bit.

“What?” you gaped, your mouth forming a perfect 'O' shape at his audacity. “The nerve of you! I have been acting completely normal!” You aggressively tried to push against his heavy chest to create some distance, but it was like trying to shove a solid brick wall; it was not working.

“Have you, though?” he challenged. His head tilted slightly to the side as he looked down at you, his towering frame completely casting you in shadow. “You’ve been trying to avoid me ever since we arrived. Mind you, we are supposed to be husband and wife here, and instead of me, you kept throwing yourself into the arms of that bastard—”

“Excuse me for acting exactly like I should while we are on a high-stakes mission—”

“Is this how you act while you are on a mission?” he fiercely cut you off. He took a heavy, deliberate step forward, crowding you so completely that you were forced to push your back straight into the balcony door, the glass cool against your skin. His expression morphed into one of deep distaste—like the mere thought of you acting exactly like this on other operations disturbed him to his very bone.

“Not at all, Thor,” you muttered, finally averting your eyes as a wave of genuine discomfort washed over your face. “But I occasionally do have to seduce men here and there. It’s not a big deal—”

His thick eyebrows furrowed deeply. Before you could turn your face away completely, his large hand came up, his fingers gently but firmly catching your chin to force you to look at him. “Not a big deal? Is someone making you seduce them? There are other ways to extract information—” he started, his deep tone initially angry but quickly softening with a rare, unexpected touch of sympathy.

You swallowed hard against the lump in your throat. “Thor, I have been trained this way. And your ways are always too loud—”

“Who the fuck trained you like this?” he growled, the symapthy instantly vanishing into a dark, protective fury. “How many times have you done this, huh?”

Your own eyebrows furrowed in a defensive shield. His entire ftame was looming over you, completely clouding your thoughts and making it hard to think straight. You reached up, removing his hand from your face. “That is absolutely none of your business—”

His entire posture changed as the anger morphed into a heavy gravity. His eyes dropped to your arms first then followed to your midriff before snapping back to your face. “Who gave you those scars?”

“What?” Your eyes widened in pure horror, the air instantly taken right out of your lungs. This cannot be happening, your voice echoed inside your mind. He could not know. You could not let him see that vulnerable, broken piece of your past. “Thor, this is ridiculous. Let me go—”

You tried pushing him away again, your chest heaving in absolute desperation to break free from his hold. But he only used his mass to pin you into the door even more, his gaze intensely determined as his hand found your jaw once again, holding you still.

He was going to find out who those fuckers were, and he was going to make them pay. He didn't fully understand why he had this overwhelming, primitive urge to protect you, but he did, and he was going to deliver on it.

“Please, Little Flame,” he murmured, his voice dropping into a desperate plea. “Are they the same people who trained you?—”

“Why do you even want to know?!” you cried out, your voice finally cracking with deep pain. Tears instantly began brewing in your eyes, blurring his handsome face. He couldn't know. If he found out, he was going to use that knowledge against you. He was going to taunt you with it during your next argument, break you with your own nightmare of a history. He was going to make sure he hurt you, just like he did every single time he managed to get a glimpse of something personal about you. He was going to break your heart completely in half and toss it away.

He was going to, because he was the only person in the universe who actually had the power to do it.

“So you can torture me more?” you whispered, your voice shaking as a single tear escaped down your cheek.

Thor’s breath got caught in his throat. A sudden, physical pain pierced his chest, wrapping around his heart so tightly that he let out a sharp huff of air. It was a pain so great, so profoundly agonizing, that it started burning through his lungs before radiating all the way out to his fingertips.

Is this truly what you thought of him?

He knew he taunted you. He knew he did everything in his being to annoy you on a daily basis. He knew he wasn't your friend, and that you both claimed to dislike each other. But he had never, in his wildest dreams, thought you could actually think him capable of causing you real, deep-rooted pain.

A fierce, protective fire burned brightly behind his blue eyes as he leaned down, his lips practically brushing your temple as he spoke.

“So that I can torture them first as they did you,” he vowed, his voice low, terrifyingly dark promise that vibrated against your skin. “And then permanently remove them from existence.”

Your angelic face twisted into a look of deep, utter confusion. What the hell was he talking about? Why on Earth would he want to do something like that for you?

Thor’s hand softened on your jaw, his thumb gently wiping away the tear on your cheek with a heartbreaking amount of tenderness. He looked down at you, his pupils blown wide with an unyielding devotion. “No... I have a better idea. I am going to tear down whatever sanctuary they think they have, drag them to the deepest pits of Hel myself, and hand-deliver a punishment that will last for eternity. No one touches you, Little Flame. Never again.”

Your heart stuttered at his words, newfound tears completely blocking your vision now at being on the receiving end of them. He sounded so profoundly sincere, so entirely full of devotion that it made your stomach flutter wildly and your heart sing with a bittersweet ecstasy.

Why was he being this protective over you? Was it just because of your mission? Has he started to actually believe the lie, to believe you were truly his wife? And why did you believe every single word he said without an ounce of your usual skepticism?

How was he making your heart soar like this? Why did he have so much power over you, over your poor, guarded heart? Why did he have to be this perfect?

Why did you love him so much?

You gasped aloud as the intrusive thought took the remaining breath away from your lungs. You loved him. You were completely, undeniably in love with him. You were in love with the man who mocked you, annoyed you, tortured you with his words. You were in love with the man you claimed to dislike for all these years.

And that realization only made you cry harder, the tears spilling over your lashes because you were entirely convinced he was never going to love you back.

“I—” you started, trying to find your voice, but a heavy, broken sob ripped through your chest instead.

Thor's face immediately fell into an expression of deep, agonizing concern. His blue eyes searched your face frantically as he wrapped his massive arms around you, pulling you securely against his broad chest.

“Please do not cry, honey,” he murmured, his deep baritone cracking in pain.

He called you honey. He called you honey in private, in the quiet safety of your shared room, while holding you as if you were made of glass. It was so sweet, so tender, so full of an unprompted meaning. What on earth had happened to the two of you? Just hours ago, you were bitterly bickering about your morning coffee, but now you were collapsed in his arms, crying simply because he wanted to protect you.

Nobody did that for you. Nobody had ever said they would protect you, because they always expected you to handle it yourself. They knew what you were capable of; they knew you were lethal.

Nobody ever thought you would need someone else to do your bidding for you.

His large hand moved to the back of your head, his thick fingers gently stroking through your hair as he spoke, his voice dropping into a raspy whisper. “Darling, are you crying because of me?” He swallowed hard, his voice cracking again. “Do you truly think I mean to harm you? Do you think so little of me?”

You sobbed, your fingers clutching desperately onto the fabric of his shirt, burying your face into his chest.

“I’m begging you, do not cry,” he gulped, his own chest heaving as he held you tighter. “It... it hurts me.”

“I had been nothing but a laboratory experiment to them,” you finally choked out, the confession tearing out of your throat.

Thor froze instantly, his entire muscular body stiffening beneath your touch.

Slowly, you tilted your head up, your chin resting against his chest. Your lashes were damp with heavy tears that still kept falling silently down your cheeks. Thor’s hand gently cupped your face, his thumb catching the moisture, his eyes entirely locked onto yours as he listened with a quiet focus.

“They didn’t see a young woman,” you whispered, your throat tightening painfully as your grip on his shirt tightened. “They only saw a lab rat. A nameless object to be broken, tested, and rebuilt. I remember the cold steel of the table. I remember begging and begging... crying until my eyes bled, but they just kept on going.”

Thor’s blue eyes darkened into a midnight so black it looked like a brewing storm. A terrifying rage formed deep within him—a rage so massive and destructive that he felt he could destroy all of humanity just to see the lingering pain disappear from your eyes.

“Who are they?” He demanded, and your eyes closed in despair.

Should you tell him? Should you let him be a part of the darkest corners of your past?

Should you trust him?

“Darling, please tell me,” he begged, his voice trembling with a restrained fury as he looked down at you. “Who did this to you?”

Your throat tightened, your pulse fluttering at his gentle words and protective tone. You sighed opening your eyes, “They were a faction I later discovered to be the vile, lingering remnants of Hydra.”

Thor saw pure red. His throat tightened to the point of suffocation at the horrific image of you at the mercy of those monsters—being tortured, crying, entirely helpless.

“I need names,” he growled softly, the air in the room turning heavy with static.

“I don’t have names—”

“I will find names.”

“I don't know if you can, Thor, it was years—”

“I will,” he cut you off, his tone leaving absolutely no room for argument. He brought his other hand to your cheek, tilting your face up just a fraction. “Keep going, honey.” His voice was incredibly gentle for you, even as the undercurrent of his rage thrummed through his veins. He could barely bear to listen to the atrocities you had survived, but he had to. You were finally opening up to him, and he would listen to you until the end of time.

You gulped, trying to steady your breathing. “At the time, they were desperate, trying to replicate the lost Super Soldier serum using volatile cosmic energy signatures they barely understood.” You let out another shaky sob, and Thor immediately rubbed your back in slow, soothing circles, offering you every ounce of comfort his massive frame could provide. “More needles inserted into my skin... more radiation pumped into my veins, all for the sake of a twisted immortality.”

You held him tighter, closing your eyes against the memories. “And once they realized what they had created, they turned me into a ghost. An assassin. They forced me—forced me to do horrific, bloody things, Thor. I hurt so many people.” You opened your eyes, looking up at him with an unbearable vulnerability. “I did horrible, horrible things.”

The tears came faster now, the weight of your past crushing you as you sobbed uncontrollably against him. “I never wanted to do any of those things... they made me, I swear they made me, and they hurt me to make me do it—”

“Shh, sweetheart,” Thor interrupted softly, his voice thick with emotion as he clutched you even tighter against his heart, burying his face into your hair, his nose nudging your scalp as he did so. “None of this is your fault. Look at me.” He pulled back just enough to cup your face with both of his massive hands, gently forcing you to look up into his striking blue eyes. “None of it is your fault.”

“I am the one who did all of it—” Your voice cut off as another wave of tears streamed down your cheeks. It was like a dam had permanently broken in your chest, and there was absolutely no stopping it now. You were crying for the stolen years, crying for the innocent lives your hands had been forced to take, crying because you felt completely stripped bare and vulnerable—but most of all, you were crying because you loved him.

“I told you it is not your fault, sweetheart,” he said, his tone turning fiercely stern, leaving no room for you to argue with him. “You were kidnapped. Tortured.” He gulped like it was a great pain to say these words, “Your whole life was altered by monsters. You were made to do all of it.” His own voice grew heavy with sadness as he looked at your tears. “You did nothing wrong. You were just trying to survive, honey.”

“I’m so glad Steve and Tony saved me,” you whispered, your throat burning. “I... I don’t know what I’d do if it wasn't for them.”

At the mention of their names, Thor felt his chest tighten with a sharp, unexpected pang. Who else on the team knew the full extent of this? Steve and Tony, definitely. Natasha? You two were close; you would have told her. Bucky? Bruce? Clint? Was he truly the only person who had been left completely in the dark?

And to think he had called you gloomy.

A heavy cloak of regret settled over his shoulders. It was all true—everything he had confessed to Alejandro and Valentin at the table. He had thought you were the most breathtakingly beautiful woman he had ever seen the moment you walked into the compound years ago. But he had fucked it all up by opening his mouth and saying you looked gloomy. Would the two of you be any different right now if he hadn't used that stupid word?

“I am sorry,” he mumbled, the unexpected words catching your attention through the haze of your crying. He looked down at you, his eyes pained. “So fucking sorry I called you gloomy. Truly sorry. Can you—” He gulped hard, his chest heaving. “Can you forgive me?”

“I...” You trailed off, staring up at him in utter disbelief. Where the hell was this coming from? The walls around your heart instantly tried to slam back up. “Do you pity me now? Is that it?” you asked, your tone shifting into something sharp and defensive.

Thor’s eyes widened in immediate panic. “No—not pity. Towards you at least, never. I pity myself.”

“What does that even mean—”

“I meant every single word I said back there at the table,” he said softly, his thumbs tenderly grazing your cheeks to wipe away the fresh tears.

Your heart gave a violent flutter against your ribs, but it felt entirely too good to be true. You couldn't let yourself fall for a beautiful lie. “Do not mock me, Thor—”

“I would never.”

Your eyebrows went straight up, your expression clearly stating the obvious. He loved mocking you. He made it his absolute daily mission to get under your skin and irritate you to death.

Thor scrunched his face up at your look, a soft, self-deprecating sigh escaping his lips. “On this matter, I mean. I would never, ever mock you on a matter such as this, Little Flame.”

You scoffed, quickly averting your eyes from the intensity of his gaze. “Now you're just being cruel, big guy—“you tried to pry yourself off him, but one of his hands holding your face descended to your waist and circled it tightly.

“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met in my thousands of years alive.”

Your eyes widened with shock as they snapped back to meet his. Your heart dropped straight to your stomach with a violent jolt of excitement—of pure happiness.

“I am?” you whispered, the words coming out small and fragile, like a secret you were almost too afraid to speak aloud. It felt entirely unbelievable.

“You are,” he said, nodding firmly as he looked down at you.

There was something profoundly pure swirling in his deep blue eyes. It was a look you dared not name, because if you did, the only thing you could possibly call it would be adoration. He looked at you as if he completely and utterly adored you.

As you stared up at him, it hit you: that look was familiar.

He had always looked at you this way. Back at the compound, during your worst arguments, across the briefing table—his pupils would blow wide, a hidden mirth would dance behind his eyes, mixed with this exact same heavy, unyielding intensity. All these years, you had defensively rewritten that look as dislike, as a god looking down on an annoying mortal. Has he always looked at you with adoration in his eyes? Or were you just desperately lying to yourself now because your own walls were crumbling?

Either way, your breath was completely knocked out of you. Panic, cold and sharp, flooded your veins. You had to get away from him. You had to protect your heart, your soul, whatever was left of your sanity. You had already bared your darkest, most painful secret to him—the one thing you had specifically kept hidden from him out of fear—and you were terrified of what else you might reveal the longer you spent wrapped up in his arms.

“I—“You panicked even more as his gaze softened with that heartbreakingly tender look. You planted your palms against his chest and pushed. “I think it would be better if you let go of me now.” Thor’s expression changed, the vulnerability vanished, his eyes darkening to a stormy, dangerous hue. He had just laid his soul bare, admitting he found you more beautiful than anything in the cosmos, and now you were demanding he let you go?

“No,” he rumbled, his grip on your waist tightening rather than loosening. “Why would I do that?”

“Because I want you to—I need you to—“

“Why would you need me to do that?” he demanded, his voice dropping dangerously. “Are you that disgusted by me?”

Before you could even process the question, his expression shifted again. The anger twisted into something entirely unhinged as the green-eyed monster clawed ruthlessly at his insides, blinding him with an irrational fury.

“So you will gladly get close to that bastard at the bar, let his filthy hands touch your skin, but you cannot bear to have me hold you?”

Your mouth parted as you looked at him with pure, unyielding disbelief. “What on earth are you on about? Why do you keep talking about him like I'm actually into him—“

“Are you?” he fiercely cut you off.

He leaned down further, his eyes agressively scanning every inch of your face, his hot breath fanning across your lips. It made your breath hitch painfully in your throat. His completely irrational, wild behavior was forcing you to consider a reality you shouldn't. Something you would have never dared to think of just moments ago. Was he jealous?

Was he actually fucking jealous?

A dangerous spark of defiance flared up inside your chest. “What if I am?” you pushed, tilting your chin up to challenge him. “You cannot be,” he said, a flash of pure, territorial anger burning hot behind his eyes. “I will not let you. You are—you—“ He stammered, his usual booming eloquence completely deserting him as his gaze furiously swept over your face, desperately trying to decipher if you actually harbored any feelings for that fucker.

You smiled daringly up at him. You knew you probably looked absolutely wicked right now, with your smudged mascara, your flushed cheeks, and that fierce, determined look in your eyes.

“Are you jealous, big guy?” you whispered.

Your hands, which had been resting on his chest, began trailing upwards to his neck seductively. You didn't even have control over your own body anymore; it was like some primal instinct had taken over and you had to do this. You had to break him. You had to get him to confess. You felt entirely insane—just seconds ago, you were panicking and trying to push him away, and now you were mindlessly feeling him up, loving the power you had over him. Fuck.

Thor felt his heartbeat fasten against his ribs. His arm around your waist constricted, pulling you so close that there wasn't a single shred of air left between your bodies, his jaw locking hard in place. He knew exactly what you were doing. You were playing with fire on purpose. He made a ‘pfft’ sound, “I am not—“ he tried, desperately attempting to lie straight to your face.

“I think you are, honey,” you purred, leaning in until your breath fanned directly over his lips, your thumb lazily circling the heated skin at the nape of his neck. Even his neck was hot, for god's sake. It was thick and masculine. He was so masculine. His eyes immediately drifted down to your lips again, his resolve crumbling. “I am not. I simply... I wish to protect you because you are my teammate—“

“Oh, so I should just go back down to the bar and find him, then?” you pushed ruthlessly. You tilted your head, feigning complete innocence with your wide, tear-bright eyes.

He huffed, utterly furious at the mere suggestion. “Absolutely not. You are not leaving this damn room without me by your side.”

Your wicked smile widened. “Why not?” you purred, your face moving a fraction closer until your lips almost brushed his jaw. “I could touch him like this...” Your hands drifted down from his neck, sliding over the heavy planes of his chest down to his massive biceps, making his muscles instantly twitch under your fingertips. “I could kiss him like I did you, just minutes ago—“

Thor couldn't take it a single second longer.

His lips slanted over yours, ruthlessly cutting your sentence and your breath off. He pulled you even closer toward him, holding you like you were his absolute lifeline, pressing you so tight against his broad, muscular frame that it felt like your bodies were becoming one. You kissed him back passionately, completely losing yourself in the intoxicating heat of it. Your hands flew up to find his rough cheeks, and you pushed yourself up on your tiptoes, pressing your lips hungrily onto his.

He bit your lower lip with a sudden, needy sharpness, then stopped. He reluctantly moved his head away just a few inches, his breathing heavy and ragged as he whispered against your mouth, “You are not to kiss anyone but me.” His thumb came up, grazing over your throbbing lower lip. “Stop it, alright?” he whispered, then pecked your lips.

“Why—“

He pecked your lips again, roughly cutting you off, and then growled the confession right into your mouth: “Because I am fucking jealous, okay honey?”

He kissed you again, and you actually smirked straight into the kiss. The absolute victory of making a literal god admit defeat made your heart soar into the stratosphere. You pulled back though your lips were still grazing his, whispering wickedly against his mouth, “What was that?”

He pecked your lips again, desperate, heavy, and completely surrendered to you. “I have been burning with jealousy since I saw him lay his filthy eyes on you. I do not know what is wrong with me, but I—” He gulped hard, his large thumb slowly gliding over your flushed cheek. “I am consumed by it.”

A breathless, giddy giggle escaped your lips then. “Okay, big guy.”

He was jealous. The King of Asgard was completely, undeniably jealous, and he had just admitted it to you in the dark of your room. Oh god, you were losing your mind—and you never wanted to find it again.

But one question prodded at your mind before he made it all disappear with a fierce kiss, why was he jealous in the first place?

But you were not in your right mind. Because Thor wasn’t kissing you like a normal kiss. He was inhaling you, and it was already lighting you on fire.

The height difference was clearly bothering him as much as it was bothering you. Feeling the strain, Thor lowered himself just a bit before sliding his hands under your thighs, effortlessly lifting you completely off the floor, making your dress ride up. Your arms immediately circled around his thick neck—the very same neck you had been dying to strangle just hours ago—and you let out a soft moan directly into his mouth as his hands slipped up from your thighs to find your ass, squeezing your cheeks tightly as he pinned you securely against his massive frame. You moaned into his mouth, not being able to help it.

A hand left your ass and wrapped around your neck, while the other moved back to your waist to securely hold you, angling your face to kiss you as deeply as he wanted. His tongue pressed over yours as he walked himself backward into the bedroom. The kiss was heated, so full of passion you felt your insides burn with it. His kisses descended to your jaw, then to your neck as he hummed in deep appreciation. What were you doing kissing Thor, of all people? What were you doing letting Thor take you to bed, of all people?

But the thought couldn't even fully form as he bit down on your neck, making you whine in pain.

“Thor—” you begged, without knowing what it was you were begging for.

— “Yes?” he rumbled against your skin as he licked the sensitive spot on your neck, then he laid you over the mattress, settling his heavy body over you. He massaged your hips as he settled himself deeply between your legs. You spread them wide to accommodate him, and felt it poking hard against your thigh.

His cock, thick and hard, was somehow bigger than you had imagined—and you hadn’t been thinking small.

“Guess we don't have to fight over who gets the bed anymore,” you quipped, your voice breathless, trying to find a defense in your usual wit.

It made him chuckle, a low vibration against your chest. “I guess not,” he whispered, then took your lips again. This kiss was softer than before, slowly dismantling you as his lips glided over yours. Then he pressed his hips heavily against your core, making you whine out loud.

“Do you feel that?” He pulled your upper lip between his teeth, smiling slightly into the heat of your face. “It’s what you do to me. Ever since we landed here, I’ve be walking around so hard I was worried you’d see it. But no.” He kissed one corner of your mouth, then the other. “You’re oblivious, aren’t you, honey?”

He found you that attractive?

You hummed, tipping your head back in complete surrender. Thor groaned, dragging his lips over a throbbing pulse point, letting his tongue flick against the sensitive skin of your throat. “You like that too,” he grunted, his breath hot in your ear. “You like being the one person that gets me going, that makes me lose it. No one else, my Little Flame.”

He held your hips again and pushed your ass forward, locking you in place so your clit was pushed tightly against the thick hardness of him through the fabric. A long moan escaped your lips, and you dropped your face into his shoulder, completely undone.

Thor grunted, rutting forward, and it was so fucking hot you couldn't think past it. The deep drawl of his voice in your ear, the impossible strength of him around you—it was intoxicating. The clothing added a desperate, heavy extra friction, his fingers digging into your hips.

“Just you,” he thrusted forward against your core, squeezing your ass tightly with his other hand. “Only you, sweetheart. So beautiful and sassy, driving me insane—“

You whimpered as Thor made a low, ragged sound, taking a deep, shaky breath against your hair. His hand then slipped into your panties, his deft fingers dragging down to tease right against the already damp drip of your pussy. His fingers started circling your clit, a thick dampness forming immediately down there under his torturously perfect touch. “Please—” you cried out, your hips bucking up instinctively against his hand, begging for him to end this perfect torture.

“Please what, honey?i Thor rasped, his touch growing heavier, more demanding as he felt your walls slick and trembling for him. “Tell me exactly what you want me to do to you”

“I want you,” you gasped out as he inserted his middle finger inside you—and fuck, even his finger was incredibly large.

“Not enough, sweetheart,” he grumbled, pressing his thumb firmly down onto your clit, making you squirm and twitch helplessly in place beneath his weight.

“What do I have to say—“

“I said tell me exactly what you want, did I not?” he rumbled, suddenly moving his finger deep inside you, rhythmically fucking you with it. You whined loudly at the overwhelming friction, your hands locking onto his massive biceps and squeezing hard enough to leave marks. “I want you to—“ you gasped, your vision blurring. “I want you to fuck me... no, I need you to fuck me. Please.”

You were completely reduced to begging him. In response, his fingers slicked deeper as he added his ring finger into your heat, stretching you beautifully, but then he stopped abruptly.

There was simply too much extra fabric from your midi dress crumpled up in his way.

Your eyebrows furrowed, the sudden loss of momentum leaving you aching and confused. “What is it?”

He didn't respond with words. Instead, his large hands slid down to your lower back, his knuckles brushing your bare skin as his fingers found the zipper of your dress.

Your blood ran completely cold in an instant. Your whole body stiffened up beneath him, every single muscle locking tight.

Your scars.

Other people, other agents, had seen them on the battlefield or during training, and you had never felt bad about it. But this was Thor. You knew he had caught a fleeting glimpse of them at the pool earlier, but he hadn't truly seen all of them. He hadn't seen the worst of them. And this was not a public pool, was it? This was intimate. This was completely private. Which meant he would have all the time in the world to analyze them with his eyes, more time to realize how broken your body really was, more time to get disgusted by them—

The heavy weight of his hand cupped your jaw, covering it completely and instantly grounding you, cutting your spiraling thoughts short. “What is it?” he asked softly, his blue eyes searching yours in the dim light. “What's wrong, Little Flame?”

You gulped hard, helplessly averting your eyes from his intense stare. “I—I don't know about this...”

“Do you want to stop?” he asked immediately, completely freezing, his hand instantly lifting away from the zipper of your dress without hesitation.

“No!” you scrambled out desperately. Your eyes snapped back to find his, and you saw deep confusion in them.

How could he not be confused? You probably looked completely insane to him right now. First you were kissing him like there was no tomorrow, then you were begging him to take you, then you were voicing a doubt, but you were still fiercely refusing to stop. You were goddamn confusing.

You closed your eyes, a wave of shame washing over you. “It's just that I...” You swallowed hard. “I don't think I should remove my dress.”

His eyebrows furrowed deeply. “But I want to feel you. I do not understand,” he said, getting more perplexed by the second.

You huffed, unable to meet his eyes. “My scars... they are not pleasant to look at, Thor.”

“You do not know what is pleasant to my eyes or not,” he countered instantly, his deep voice carrying an unyielding certainty that took you completely aback.

“But—“

“I find you attractive. I find your scars attractive. I find every single part of you breathtakingly attractive,” he said, his tone dropping into a fierce vow as his hand found the track of your zipper once again. He didn't pull it, he just waited, asking for your trust. “Please let me see you, darling,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over yours, his warm breath intoxicating. “So that I can witness your beauty. So that I can show you exactly how much I love your scars, how much I love every part of you.”

Your eyes were wide, your heart beating so fast and hard against your ribs it felt painful. Should you actually let him?

This was Thor, for god's sake. He was never the nicest person to you—

But was he not?

A sudden rush of memories flooded your brain, completely reframing the last few years. He always looked out for you on dangerous missions, shielding your blind spots. Even though he irritated you daily, he always helped you carry heavy equipment crates—though not before he smugly made you cave in and admit you couldn't do it yourself, just like he did with your suitcases. He had caught you by the waist every single time you tripped. His eyes had always, always been tracked onto you in every room. And tonight, he had called you the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his thousands of years of life, before literally threatening to crush a man's skull for disrespecting you.

So no. He had never been rude to you. He had always been good to you. He annoyed you, sure, but he was so goddamn protective and sweet to you in his own annoying and loud way, and you had somehow just noticed it. How the hell did you just notice it?

Your chest was heaving heavily as you made your final decision, the remaining walls around your heart completely collapsing.

“Okay,” you whispered, nodding your head against the pillow.

Thor smiled then—a soft, blindingly beautiful smile that made him look younger, happier. His lips easily found yours again in a deep, reassuring kiss as his hand slowly, smoothly slid the zipper all the way down, gently removing the white dress from your body and leaving nothing between you but the heat of his skin.

You were now left in your white bra and panties, his gaze burning your skin as he looked all over you. His heart soared at the sight of you, but he felt a sharp pang of pain in his chest at the scars littering your skin. They were a lot more than he thought, but gods, they only made you more attractive to him. A strong woman, with the face of an angel and the body of a goddess—you were always meant to be his undoing.

His fingers grazed a thin line along your ribs as his mind echoed fiercely, She is beautiful, and I am going to make them pay for hurting her, all of them.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you squirmed, a faint trace of your old discomfort resurfacing.

Instead of drawing back, he leaned over your body, his face level with your stomach as his large hands gently grabbed your sides, anchoring you. And then, he lowered his head and kissed one of the most visible, ragged scars you had near your hip.

“You are beautiful. Truly a goddess... one fit for me,” he muttered against your skin, before kissing the mark again.

Your breath hitched, your head spinning into a daze. That specific scar was from the most lethal trauma you had ever endured. You had almost died that day; in fact, you had hoped to die that day just to escape. But your captives had found a way to keep you alive, using brutal, advanced procedures to permanently bind your altered biology together. Tears welled up in your eyes, your vision blurring for the second time that night. To see him kiss it like that—so tenderly, with so much reverence—made something warm and heavy fill your chest. It was like a fractured part of you was finally feeling whole again.

I love him, your mind screamed at you for the second time that day. Your right hand instinctively found his rough cheek, your fingers tangling in his beard as he kept kissing your scars. One left from needles being inserted into the exact same place dozens of times; one left from a failed escape attempt on a mission they sent you on, a punishment for not obeying... He was kissing every single one of them.

And while his lips hovered over the worst one near your hip again, you finally whispered, “I almost died when I got that one.”

His head immediately whipped up, his heart tightening painfully in his chest at your words. “What?” he asked, his throat closing in, his blue eyes blazing with an intense, dark focus.

“They used a plasma blade to slice me open during a combat stress-test,” you whispered, the memory making your voice shake. “They wanted to see how fast the cosmic energy in my blood would knit the flesh back together while I was conscious. I begged them to just let me bleed out.”

Thor’s hold on your sides violently tightened, his knuckles turning white and his jaw locking so hard a muscle strove in his cheek. “I am going to make them pay, Little Flame." he said his voice determined, "I am going to avenge you. They are going to feel the wrath of the God of Thunder, be sure of that. No one, and I mean no one, gets away with hurting you.”

He turned his head toward the hand holding his cheek, shifting slightly to press a deep, lingering kiss against the inside of your wrist, right over your pulsing vein, like he wanted to be sure you were alive. Like he needed reassurance of your well being after your confession. He could not bear the thought of you in pain, but death? You on the brink of death? His poor heart could not take it. “I do not know what you did to me, sweetheart, but you—” he gulped, his eyes locked on yours, “you have a hold on me that no one else ever did. That no one else ever could.”

He leaned up, his chest heaving against yours. “I cannot help it. I cannot help but be jealous, I cannot help but be protective, possessive... I just can't help it. You have completely bewitched me.”

Your breathing fastened as your heart fluttered wildly in your chest at his words. What did he mean? How was he talking like this? He couldn't love you, you knew that—you were just deeply flawed partners on a mission—but a part of your soul soared at the fact that he harbored these intense, desperate urges for you. Even if it wasn't love, he felt for you with a terrifying depth.

When his large hands moved down to remove your white bra, you reached up and caught his wrists, tsking him with a breathless smirk. “Don't you think you're being a bit unfair, big guy? It's your turn.”

Your hands found his collar, pulling his heavy frame down to your lips. You kissed him deeply, pouring all your hidden, aching feelings into it, while your shaky fingers began working on the unbuttoning of his shirt. Your hands were trembling with excitement and the weight of your feelings for him. When you finally removed your lips from his, you let out a frustrated huff, looking down at the fabric because your frantic fingers couldn't unbutton them fast enough.

Thor just chuckled, a rumbling sound against your chest. He took matters into his own hands, gripping the shirt and casually pulling it over his head with one smooth motion, tossing it blindly across the room.

“Oh fuck... you honestly are a god,” you whispered, taking him in fully. His biceps were literally the size of your head, his pecs perfectly sculpted, his abs defined and casting shadows in the dim light—he was going to be the absolute death of you.

He chuckled again, clearly enjoying your completely awestruck expression, and immediately took it to his advantage. His large hand slid behind your back, and with a single, practiced flick of his fingers, he unclasped your bra in a second.

You gasped in bewilderment, snapping your eyes up to meet his. “You sly fox,” you said, a wicked smirk returning to your lips.

He just held your bra up for a brief second like a captured banner of war, a triumphant smile lighting up his handsome face, before he tossed it away. Turning all of his massive, heavy attention back to you, his mouth immediately latched onto your right breast, his tongue swirling hot against your skin while his large hand slid down past your stomach to find your crotch.

“Ohmygod,” you gasped out in one breath.

His fingers hooked into the edge of your panties, sliding them down your hips before giving a firm, playful slap against your inner thigh. “Get your legs up for me, honey, so I can get these off,” he grunted against your skin. You quickly complied, lifting your hips and helping him slide the remaining lace down your legs until you were completely bared for him.

He let go of your nipple for a second, his large hands sliding down to grip your thighs with an iron hold, settling himself deeply between them again. He spread them wide open, his gaze dropping down to your glistening center. His tongue darted out in anticipation, his eyes dark with an intense, heavy hunger.

“You look so sweet, honey. Bet you taste as sweet as you look, don't you?” he murmured to himself, his deep baritone sending a thrill straight down your spine as he kept his gaze locked between your legs.

You whined in agonizing anticipation, your hips twitching on the mattress. “Do something—oh!”

You were cut off as his thumb pressed hard against your clit, slowly dragging all the way down your slick slit, catching your juices on his skin. He lifted his hand, looking down at his wet thumb before putting it directly between his lips, sucking the moisture off as he closed his eyes.

“Oh, yes you do taste sweet. Better than I ever imagined,” he rumbled, his voice rough. He leaned down and gave your pussy a light, playful slap, the stinging heat making you whine out loud.

“Thooor—”

He hovered back over your body, his mouth immediately returning to suckle hungrily on your right nipple. At the same time, his hand slid back between your thighs, inserting his middle finger deep inside you, quickly followed by his ring finger. His thumb began circling your clit in rhythmic patterns. Your mouth fell agape, your head tossing from side to side as you moaned and moaned, your body beautifully stretched by his incredibly large fingers.

Your hands locked onto his broad shoulders, squeezing tight, the slick friction of his touch rapidly driving you toward the edge, pulling you closer to that blissful, impending high.

“'M close,” you murmured, your eyes completely dazed. You pulled his head closer, biting down on the thick skin of his neck and suckling fiercely, making the god let out a deep, gravelly groan of pleasure.

“You’re driving me insane,” he growled against your skin, his fingers moving faster, driving deep inside your tight heat. “Come on, pretty girl, make a mess on my fingers.”

The pressure kept building and building in your lower stomach until it was entirely unbearable. “I—” you gasped, your toes curling into the sheets. “I’m gonna—”

“Come on, let it go, baby,” he commanded darkly.

And then you snapped. You came hard, whining and moaning loudly as wave after wave of intense pleasure rippled through your core, your walls clamping down violently around his fingers. Thor grunted, keeping his fingers moving through your contractions, forcing every last drop of pleasure out of you until you were breathlessly begging him to stop.

Before you could even catch your breath, Thor shifted. He reached down to his waist, lowering his trousers and boxers in a single, aggressive movement. Because he was already on his knees, the fabric simply bunched up around his knees, freeing his lower half.

Your eyes widened in absolute awe at the sight. He was big. Just as you had thought, but seeing him fully bare made him look even bigger. “Oh god,” you whispered.

Thor gave his length a slow, heavy pump of his hand, precum glistening at the tip as he smeared the moisture down his thick shaft. He looked down at you, his chest heaving.

“Do we need protection? Because I don't have any—” he asked, his voice thick with restraint. “No, we don't,” you said eagerly, you were on the pill.

Pushing yourself up onto your elbows, you looked his naked torso and heavy length over with a predatory hunger. “You’re so fucking handsome it’s annoying, do you know that?” you said, biting your lower lip.

He chuckled, a smug, low sound as he settled his weight back in between your open legs. “Why, thank you, Little Flame—”

Your hand shot out, planting firmly against his massive shoulder. “Can I ride you?” Thor stopped dead in his tracks, his chest heaving, his pupils blown wide. “What?”

“Can I ride you?” you asked again, your voice completely determined.

Taking full advantage of his momentary shock, you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist, using your core to pull him down as you deftly flipped your positions. Within a second, you were sitting squarely on top of his hard stomach. His defined abs twitched beneath you, the movement grazing directly against your freshly sensitive clit, making you take a sharp breath.

“You wanna do all the work, honey?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowing as a lazy, amused smirk tugged at his lips.

“Mhm,” you hummed, your eyes dazed and hooded as you looked down at his towering chest. He chuckled, his large hands rising to rest loosely on your hips. “Are you sure? You are well aware I possess the stamina of a god.”

You rolled your eyes at his typical Asgardian arrogance. “I am aware. Can you just stop talking and—”

“Are you getting on, or not?” he interrupted, his smirk widening as he tilted his hips up just a fraction, the warm tip of his cock brushing against your entrance.

For a split second, the temptation to be difficult returned. “I am definitely reconsidering it now,” you pouted, crossing your arms over your bare chest and throwing him a defiant look.

But Thor just snorted, rolling his eyes at your stubbornness. Before you could even blink, his hands gripped your hips with terrifying strength and he lifted you up. You didn't even get a second to think before he downwardly forced your hips straight onto his thick dick, burying himself inside you all the way to the hilt.

The air was knocked completely from your lungs. Thor was so deep in you it was pushing all the thoughts out of your brain. You gaped down at him, making weak, breathless noises as your pussy pulsed and stretched beautifully around his thickness. His fingers dug deeply into your hips, the only sign that he was struggling to hold himself back from taking over completely.

“Much as I enjoy you trying to take control,” he muttered, his large hands sliding down to massage your ass with a heavy, grounding pressure, “I'd rather keep you full of me so you stop thinking.”

He reached up slowly, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You bit your bottom lip, whining at the unbearable fullness, and he chuckled, settling his upper body fully into the pillows. Your hands found his chest, your fingers grabbing firmly onto his broad pectorals for balance. “Ride it, baby,” he ordered, his voice a low, gravelly command.

And god help you, you tried. You caught your breath after a long moment that felt like an eternity and started to roll your hips. Thor groaned, his heavy eyelids fluttering as your tight heat dragged over his length, but he deliberately didn't help you yet. His hands remained firm on your body, forcing you to use every ounce of your strength to grind down onto his dick.

Your movements accidentally pushed him right against that sensitive, gooey spot inside of you, and you faltered with a long, broken moan. You shifted, forcing his thick head right against it again, and he let out a sharp breath, though he still didn't take the reins. “Uhh—” you whined, your head spinning.

“Feels good, does it not?” he cooed, his cock throbbing heavily inside you. “Nice and big, filling up your pussy so good.”

You moaned, your hips bucking instinctively. Thor grunted, thrusting up just slightly to meet you, and you tipped your head back as a shiver ran down your spine. The friction was incredible. For a second, back arched and thighs aching, you actually managed to find a rhythm. It started slow, rolling and pushing Thor’s cock right where you wanted it.

You looked down at him, sweaty and utterly adoring beneath you. His hands wandered over your skin, his breathing ragged and his lips parted as he watched you take him.

“That's a good girl,” he muttered, his blue eyes blown wide. “There you go, My Star.” He continued, “My beautiful fucking Star, so good for me are you not?”

You keened at the praise, your pace moving faster. Your knees were growing weak from the exertion, but the desperate need inside you was so much stronger. You bounced on Thor’s dick, grabbing at his chest and gasping for air as his sheer size split you open over and over again.

Looking down at his bare chest, his defined pecs looked absolutely delicious in the dim light. You had to take a bite, didn't you? Lowering your upper body flat against his chest, you leaned down and bit down on his left breast, hard. Thor groaned loudly, his abs flexing hard beneath you. “What are you—” he gasped.

You didn't answer, simply licking over the damp mark you had just left before kissing over it mindlessly. Pushing yourself back up, your hands found their place on his heaving chest again, meeting his eyes which were burning with an unhinged desire.

But it wasn't enough. You didn't possess the extra stamina or strength of a god, and he was just too big. You were so overwhelmed by pleasure that your body was starting to forget how to move properly. Every wet, obscene sound echoing in the room made you glance down at where he was disappearing inside of you—the way your slick was heavily coating his cock when you pulled up, and the heavy weight of his balls slapping against your ass every time you dropped back down.

You only got hornier, wanting nothing more than to just let go and allow your eyes to cross and toes to curl, but you couldn't find the pace to get over the edge. You couldn't cum. The frustration built up until pathetic, fat tears started streaming down your cheeks.

”Aw, baby, why are you crying?” Thor murmured, his voice laced with a gentle mockery. Fully aware of the fact that you couldn't reach the finish line by yourself, he reached up, brushing your tears away with his thumb while a tiny, knowing smirk played on his lips.

You let out a frustrated sob, shaking violently above him as your legs finally grew too weak to sustain the weight. You collapsed forward, just squirming uselessly against his lap now, blinking through wet lashes at his teasing, lazy smile. “You can't get there all alone, can you?” he purred, gripping your waist tightly and slamming his hips up into you.

You made a choked, high-pitched sound as the sudden force rattled your entire frame. “That's right, pretty girl. Just a total mess on my cock."

“Ple—please—“ you blubbered, completely spent, your upper body collapsing weakly over Thor’s broad chest. “God, Thor—please—“

“Aw. Begging so pretty.” He leaned up and pressed a tender, lingering kiss to your wet forehead. “How could I ever say no to you, huh?”

Without another word, Thor gripped your hips and effortlessly lifted you off his cock, twisting you onto your back as he sat up. You were shoved down into the mattress, your head pressed deeply into the cushions. His massive hands locked onto your hips, dragging you down the bed toward him, completely manhandling you. His right hand moved to the inside of your left thigh, pushing it wide open to expose your dripping core to the cool air of the room.

“Such a mess,” Thor rumbled, his eyes dark as he ran the thick head of his cock between the lips of your pussy, letting it press heavily against your swollen clit before lining it right back up at your entrance.

He slid in slowly, filling you back up until your eyes rolled back in your head. Bringing his upper body over yours, his left hand found your right leg, pushing it all the way up to your chest. He was impossibly deeper at this angle, stretching you to your absolute limits.

You tried to press your hand over your mouth to muffle your pathetic, undone sounds, but Thor tutted softly. With his left hand, he firmly wrapped his fingers around your wrist and pulled your hand away, pinning it to the mattress. He bottomed out completely, a deep groan ripping from his chest as he bit your earlobe.

His hand found its way to your thigh and kept your legs pinned high next to your breasts as he began to move, his brutal, unyielding pace making you instantly see stars. Every heavy thrust sent a shockwave through your body, your hips bouncing uncontrollably against the mattress.

Thor moved his head back just a little, looking down at where your bodies joined, and grunted in deep, possessive approval. He caught your jaw in his hand, his fingers anchoring you as he fucked you hard. “Want to see how good we fit, pretty girl?”

You couldn't even catch a goddamn breath, but you nodded frantically. He let go of your chin, sliding his hand to the back of your head and gently forcing you to look down at your own lap.

It was sinful. So fucking sinful. A white, creamy ring was forming around his shaft as he ruthlessly fucked into you, and he was so goddamn right—you fit together like perfect puzzle pieces. With every single downward stroke, his heavy pelvis hit directly against your engorged, sensitive clit.

You moaned loudly, your eyebrows knitting together in pure pleasure as the visual pushed you right over the edge unexpectedly. You screamed his name as he let go of your head, his thumb brushing over your trembling lips. He didn't stop, keeping up the relentless, pounding pace, grunting your name over and over against your neck.

“Came after just a few seconds of me fucking you?” he mocked breathlessly, but he was in no better shape than you were. He looked completely disheveled, his hair wild, his jaw locked in a tight line of restraint.

He pushed his damp thumb directly into your mouth, and you blindly suckled on it, wrapping your tongue around his skin.

“Fuck,” he grunted, his blue eyes blowing wide as he finally lost his grip on his godly stamina. His hips gave one last, deep, trembling shove, pinning you flat to the bed as he came, throwing thick, hot ropes of cum deep inside you, filling you to the absolute brim. —

“Are you okay?” he whispered, his lips brushing tenderly against your knuckles.

You were having a near-impossible time keeping your eyes open, the aftershocks of the last hour leaving your limbs feeling like heavy lead, but you managed to nod lazily and offer him a soft, sleepy smile.

Thor took your hand, bringing it up to rest against his bare chest. You frowned, your brow furrowing in confusion. “What’re you doin’?” you mumbled, your exhaustion making your words barely intelligible, slurring together into a sleepy hum.

“Have to take care of you, baby,” he said, his voice so gentle it made your heart ache. He didn't wait for an answer, simply scooping you up into his arms, bridal style. Your arms instinctively circled around his thick neck, and you rested your heavy head against his shoulder as he carried you into the bathroom.

After he helped you clean up with a patience that was entirely uncharacteristic of the man you’d known for years, he carried you back to the bed. He kissed your forehead with lingering reverence as he laid you down, then slid under the covers next to you, pulling you into his embrace until your head was pillowed firmly against his chest.

His heart was beating like a war drum against your ear, his large fingers trembling slightly as he pulled the thin, cool sheets up to tuck you in. He stared at the ceiling, lost in the terrifying shift in his own reality.

Why was he feeling like this? What had happened to the cold, arrogant dynamic you two had shared for so long? The question burned in his mind, sharp and insistent: Did you feel the same?

Unable to hold the mounting anxiety back, he mumbled, “Do you hate me?”

The question came out before he could stop it, brittle and desperate. You stiffened slightly against him, your eyes fluttering open for a brief moment. “I never hated you.”

He hummed, a low vibration in his chest. “Hm.” He shifted, his hand moving to smooth a lock of hair away from your face. “Let me phrase it like this then... do you dislike me still?”

You smiled a little bit, your face scrunching up as you looked up at him hazily, your consciousness drifting further away. You were too exhausted to put up your usual defenses, and you told him half the truth.

“Not so much.”

You leaned forward and kissed his chest without thinking, the action small and intimate, before laying your head back down. His fastened heartbeat drummed in your ears, a frantic, steady rhythm that matched your own.

Thor felt his heart give out as he finally understood what he was feeling.

He was in love with you.

He had been for years, and he was absolutely, completely doomed.

—

You woke up, breathing in deeply as you opened your eyes and stretched your arms. Your eyes widened instantly as the vivid rush of last night’s endeavors hit you.

You slept with Thor.

You quickly looked next to you, your heart ready to leap with hopeful excitement, only to see a completely empty bed. Your heart dropped straight to your stomach. A cold, suffocating weight pressed down on your chest.

Where was he? Did he regret it that much? Did he wake up, realized what he had done with someone as broken as you, and left you all alone the first thing in the morning?

Your hands and feet went completely ice-cold. Your eyes tore up, your nose burning and your throat tightening painfully with incoming tears. Regret. It was the only word screaming in your mind.

You scrambled to your feet, desperately trying to swallow down the sob threatening to break out. Moving on pure autopilot, you quickly started getting ready for breakfast, needing a mask to hide behind. Your hands shook violently as you removed the mascara stains from your cheeks and quickly applied your sunscreen. You pulled on a black strapless summer dress with vibrant pink flowers—it hugged your torso tightly before flaring out beautifully from the waist down. You placed a long-brimmed black summer hat over your hair and slid into black kitten heels. Taking a shaky, shallow breath, you made your way down to the resort’s breakfast area.

The moment you stepped into the restaurant, your blood ran cold. You did not like what you were witnessing. At all.

Thor was there, standing by the open buffet, but he wasn’t alone. There she was—the receptionist girl who had been entirely too into your so-called husband since you arrived. Her hand was resting boldly on his right bicep while he looked down at her, his head turned toward her as he smiled lightly. She was actively flirting with him, and he wasn’t pulling back. Not even after everything he had whispered to you last night. What the hell was a receptionist doing there in the first place?

A dangerous rage built inside you, jealousy brewing hot and toxic, completely melting your insides. You couldn’t help it. Even if Thor didn't want you anymore, even if last night meant nothing to him, nobody was allowed to touch him like that as long as he was playing your husband.

You made your way toward them in fast, sharp strides, the click of your kitten heels masked by the ambient chatter. You stopped directly behind the girl, your index finger tapping her shoulder with an icy firmness.

She quickly turned around, a bright, rehearsed smile on her face, but that smile instantly died the second she registered who was standing there. She was much shorter than you; from beneath the brim of your hat, you were looking down at her with pure, unyielding disdain. A wicked, lethal smile played on your lips—a look that silently screamed, 'You are going to die in ten seconds, and not even the God of Thunder can save you from your demise.'

“My love, you’re awake!” Thor boomed, his face lit up with an instant, radiant brightness the very millisecond his eyes landed on you. You flicked your gaze to him, your chest tight. What a spectacular actor, you thought bitterly.

You looked straight back at the girl. Thor’s eyebrows quickly knitted together as he registered the tension radiating from your posture. “I was just on my way to bring you breakfast—”

“Were you now?” you cut him off, your voice dangerously low, though your eyes never left the receptionist. She was already squirming and trembling under your icy glare.

“I was just—” she stammered, backing up half a step. “You were just leaving,” you cut her off ruthlessly. Then, completely unable to hold yourself back through the blinding haze of your jealousy, you coldly added, “My husband does not have a taste for servants, you know?”

Thor’s eyes widened in sheer shock. You had done the exact one thing you had warned him not to do—you had ignored manners and called her a servant.

The girl nodded frantically, her eyes wide with fear, and immediately scrambled away from Thor, nearly tripping over her own feet to escape you.

The moment she was gone, you turned away from him without giving him a second look. “Baby—” Thor started, his hand reaching out.

“Do not baby me,” you snapped, turning your head back sharply, your eyes flashing with a profound, unyielding coldness that made him freeze.

Thor’s heart dropped straight to his stomach. The sudden, icy wall you had thrown up slapper him in the face so hard he felt your finger prints on his cheek. Did you regret it? Was that what this was? Did you wake up wishing last night had never happened?

“What is going on?” he asked, his voice losing its booming confidence, an edge of panic bleeding through.

You scoffed loudly, completely ignoring his question as you moved toward the stack of plates to grab your own food. You weren't going to stand there and look pathetic. Thor quickly followed on your heels, his massive frame completely blocking out the rest of the crowded restaurant as you aggressively snatched a ceramic plate from the stack. The weight of it felt solid in your shaking fingers—a grounding contrast to the chaos roaring inside your head. He didn't care that there were other guests around; his focus was entirely locked onto you.

“Talk to me, please,” he begged again, his deep voice dropping into a whispered, desperate pitch that only you could hear. “What did I do? Why are you looking at me like that?”

You moved down the line of the open buffet, your eyes fixed forward, your jaw locked tight under the long brim of your black summer hat. You didn't even see the food.

“I look at you exactly how I should look at a partner who fails to maintain the perimeter of our cover,” you whispered coldly, your tone clipped and professional—the ultimate shield to protect your bleeding heart. “We are supposed to be happily married, Thor. Yet I walk into the dining room and find you letting the resort staff treat your bicep like a resting post. It’s sloppy. It risks the mission.”

“The mission?” Thor repeated, and you heard the sharp, pained intake of his breath. He stepped in front of you, completely cutting off your path to the pastry section, forcing you to stop. When you tried to look past him, he leaned down into your line of sight, his blue eyes wide and panicked. “You think I care about the cover right now? Honey, look at me.”

The nickname was a mocking echo of the tenderness from last night. Your eyes snapped up to his, flashing with a dangerous, icy heat. “Do not call me that.”

He felt entirely hopeless, his blue eyes burning with a raw, suffocating pain the more you talked. “Last night—“

“Let's not bring up last night. Ever,” you said, sharply turning your head away from him. You were desperate to protect your heart, to pull the shields up before he could break you completely by saying how much he regretted it.

“What?” he asked, his voice entirely breathless. His lungs felt as though they were constricting in on themselves, a pain burning him from the inside out.

But you didn't answer., you just kept walking, your hands trembling so hard that the ceramic plate in your hands shaked in your grasp. You tried to swallow the thick lump of emotion stuck in your throat, but it wouldn't budge. You loved him, and he regretted you. That was the only reality your brain could process.

You had effectively carved his heart out of his chest and stepped on it with the sharp heel of your shoes, leaving his poor heart to bleed out on the cold floor while you kept thumping it with your foot over and over again. Thor’s head was thumping, his chest feeling completely hollow as he stood frozen, looking at your retreating back. To him, the message was loud and clear: you regretted everything you had given him, while he was deeply, hopelessly in love with you.

The rest of the breakfast passed by in a torturously. You didn't speak a single word to him, and he didn't dare speak to you, far too heartbroken to even think of where to begin mending the fracture. You both just sat there at the table in a heavy, complete silence. Thor spent the entire time staring down at his large, empty hands, while you kept your eyes rigidly fixed on your plate.

After breakfast, you returned to the villa to change for the pool, pulling on a black bikini and a sheer black beach dress. You kept the long-brimmed hat firmly on your head, using it as a barrier to keep yourself from looking at him, and to keep him from looking at you to see your pained expression.

Once down at the resort pool, you settled onto your sunbed for a second before immediately scrambling away to the water, needing to escape his suffocating proximity. Your body tensed up at the first splash, but slowly relaxed as your skin got used to the cold.

It's okay, your mind echoed in a desperate chant, trying to soothe your aching heart. You already got the codes. You can get this entire mission over with tonight, and then you won't ever have to sleep in the same room with him again.

From his sunbed, Thor was watching you like a hawk. He lay there with his massive arms crossed behind his head, his jaw locked so tight the muscles in his cheek flexed repeatedly. His hands were formed into rigid fists, the static electricity in his veins making the air around his chair turn faintly heavy.

Then, the tense silence was abruptly interrupted by a woman's voice coming from next to him. “Hello there, handsome.” She was sitting on a sunbed just one row away, looking to be in her late forties with short, styled blonde hair and a sly, predatory smirk on her face.

Thor didn't even turn his torso. He just spared a brief, icy sideway glance at her before immediately snapping his eyes back to the water, tracking your swimming. “Why are you all alone?” she purred, leaning forward to get his attention. “Your spouse left you to fend for yourself like mine did?” Thor finally turned his head fully away from the pool for a brief second. “I am completely fine. Thank you for your concerns, lady,” he grumbled clearly irritated, his baritone rough and entirely uninviting.

He dismissed her instantly, turning back to look toward the deep end of the pool—only to find you staring straight back at him with a lethal, blinding fire burning hot in your eyes.

He gulped, his breath taken away.

—

After your day in the pool ended and you were back in your villa, the silence between you had grown so heavier. You finally broke it, “I am going to secure the tech tonight.” Thor's back visibly stiffened at the sound of your voice. He turned to face you slowly, his blue eyes guarded. “What do you need me to do?” he asked, his voice rough and gravelly.

You gulped, forcing your professional mask back into place. “Distract Alejandro in the VIP section while I slip away. I'll pretend to go to the bathroom, access the private vault down the hall, and once I have the drive, I'll signal you through the comms so we can leave.” He nodded briefly, his jaw flexing. “Okay,” he whispered.

The process of getting ready was done in a tense, rhythmic quiet. Thor threw on a black linen shirt and charcoal linen pants, looking effortlessly devastating. You opted for a flowy, lightweight black dress that gave you maximum mobility, pairing it with flat, elegant leather sandals—you needed to be comfortable and silent on your feet tonight.

You headed down to dinner, the atmosphere of the resort's high-end restaurant buzzing around you while you sat like ghosts. You tried to eat whatever your stomach would allow, but you had absolutely no appetite after the events of the day. Every time your eyes accidentally met his, you both looked away, shielding your wounds. Once dinner was cleared, it was time. You made your way toward the exclusive VIP lounge, immediately spotting Alejandro lounging in a velvet booth surrounded by bodyguards. You and Thor exchanged a quick, imperceptible glance, checked the small clicks of your earpieces, and nodded.

Alejandro boomed with laughter the moment he saw you approach. “My friends! Welcome, welcome!” he cried, throwing his arms wide open in his usual boisterous display.

You both forced tight, practiced smiles onto your faces. Thor stepped forward, giving the man a brief, friendly hug before turning toward the booth to sit down. Before you could even slide onto the leather cushion next to him, Thor’s large hand securely gripped your waist. Your heart instantly went completely haywire as he effortlessly lifted you and pulled you right down onto his lap.

You two had been distant all day. He had to hold you. He needed to make amends, to feel the heat of your skin against his, even if it was just under the guise of the mission. At least, that was the only excuse his desperate mind could construct if you angrly yelled at him about it later.

You smiled tightly for Alejandro's benefit, but your fingers dug with an icy, warning firmness into the back of Thor's thick neck—a silent, furious message for him to let go. But Thor didn't care. He didn't care about the silent threat as long as he got to hold you in his arms for just a second longer before this mission ended and you went back to the compound to avoid him forever. He simply tightened his grip, pulling you flush against his chest, and smiled widely at Alejandro.

Alejandro chuckled deeply at the display of affection. “Always passionate, I see.”

You turned a sickly sweet smile toward the arms dealer, leaning into the cover. “Always,” you cooed, before casually looking around the lounge. “Where is Valentin tonight?” You instantly felt Thor's fingers dig sharply into your waist, his grip turning possessive at the mention of the man he had been burning with jealousy over. Alejandro made a dismissive, ‘don't care’ gesture with his hand. “Ah, he claims he is sick. Staying in his villa tonight.”

“Oh, poor guy,” you purred, feigning deep sympathy. “I hope he gets better soon.” Thor’s fingers dug even deeper into your hip bone, a silent, growling protest that you had to actively ignore.

You endured another twenty minutes of Alejandro’s endless boasting, monitoring the guard rotation out of the corner of your eye. Finally, the hallway leading to the back offices cleared. You lightly tapped Thor’s broad shoulder, signaling him that it was time. "I need to go to the restroom, honey," you said loudly enough for the table to hear, sliding off his lap.

He didn't protest, maintaining his role, but his blue eyes burned holes straight through your frame as you walked away. The moment you turned the corner out of the lounge's line of sight, the sweet smile vanished from your face. Your heart rate spiked, breathing sharpening as you slipped into the dim, restricted corridor. Using the digital master key you had covertly cloned from the resort's mainframe, you bypassed the electronic lock on Alejandro's private office in three seconds flat. The door clicked open with a faint hiss. You slipped inside, closing it silently behind you.

The room was dark, illuminated only by the ambient glow of the resort's outdoor lights filtering through the blinds. You moved like a shadow across the plush carpet, heading straight for the ornate bookshelf on the far wall. Pressing the hidden release mechanism behind a heavy brass statue, the wall ground open to reveal a reinforced titanium safe. Your fingers flew across the keypad, inputting the encryption codes you had painfully secured earlier in the week. BEEP. The safe's heavy bolts retracted. You quickly dismanntled the failsafe and looked inside the safe.

There, resting on a velvet cushion, was a glowing, intricately carved container pulsing with a faint, dark energy—the stolen Dark Elf convergence technology. Beside it lay the encrypted flash drive containing the buyers' manifests. Your breath hitched. This was it. The culmination of hours of putting up with Thor, hours of hiding your heart, hours of surviving. You carefully wrapped the artifact in a specialized containment cloth to mask its energy signature, slipping it and the drive into the secure inner pocket of your dress.

You locked the safe, closed the hidden door, and stepped back out into the hallway, your heart hammering against your ribs. Pressing your finger to your earpiece, “Package secured. Perimeter clear. Let's mo—“ you were cut off as a heavy, sweating hand clamped brutally over your mouth from behind, and the cold steel of a gun barrel pressed hard into the side of your head. Fuck.

Back in the VIP lounge, Thor’s earpiece crackled with your voice. The sound instantly soothed his aching heart, but the relief didn't last long. You were cut off mid-word, your voice muffled into a sharp static gasp. His heart dropped straight to his stomach, cold dread instantly replacing his focus. What the fuck?

He smoothly stood up, cutting Alejandro off mid-sentence with a firm, booming laugh as he patted the man's shoulder, masking the terror roaring in his veins. "It has been an absolute pleasure, Alejandro, but my wife has been feeling quite fatigued from our travels. I must take her back to our quarters," Thor said, his tone leaving absolutely no room for argument. Before Alejandro could even protest, Thor was already walking away, his long strides carrying him down the corridor. “Little Flame? What is happening?” he whispered franticallyy into his comms, his hands trembling with a mix of fear and rising fury.

You didn't respond. The silence on the other end drove him to the edge. The second he stepped into the shadow of the back hallway, out of sight of the guests, he raised his hand. With a crackle, Stormbreaker materialized into his grip, the blue sparks already dancing along the heavy blade.

“So you were here to get to this, all along?” came Valentin's sharp, bitter voice from behind you. Thor's voice crackled instantly in your ear, low and lethal. “Is it him?” Bound by the hand over your mouth, you could only press a tight, affirmative hum into the microphone.

Valentin spoke again, his grip tightening. "The only reason why you were interested in me?" He sounded entirely wrecked, like he couldn't believe his own ego had been brokenby a spy. You gulped, trying to calculate your leverage. Sensing your shift, he cautiously removed his hand from your mouth to let you speak, keeping the gun digging into your temple. “Valentin, calm dow—“ CRACK. He ruthlessly smacked the heavy side of the gun against the side of your head. The force made your head snap to the side, a low, painful grunt ripping from your throat as your vision blurred for a split second. This motherfucker.

“Did he just fucking hit you?” came Thor's roaring voice through the comms, the nger in his tone vibrating so hard it rattled your earpiece. You quickly let out another hum, trying to mask it as a groan of lingering pain so that Valentin wouldn't realize you were on an active channel. “Are you still in the same spot?” Thor demanded, his footsteps shaking the building as he sprinted toward your coordinates. This fucker had absolutely no chance. He was dying tonight.

You hummed again in confirmation, which only served to irritate Valentin further. He grabbed your chin, turning your face toward him, forcing you to look into his wild, unhinged eyes. A crazy, desperate smile spread across his face. “I think you should give me a kiss before you go,” he whispered darkly. He closed his eyes, leaning his face directly into yours. Big mistake.

The second his eyes shut, your training took over. You threw your head back, violently slamming the crown of your skull against his nose. He staggered back with a curse, and you used the momentum to drive a sharp elbow directly into his ribs, successfully hitting the gun away from your head. You spun, sweeping your leg out to take his ankles, but Valentin was fueled by pure adrenaline; he managed to catch his balance, his face twisting in fury as he lunged forward. He slammed you back against the wall, his hand locking tightly around your neck, and pointed the gun straight at your head from the front, yelling directly into your face.

But before he could even pull the trigger—before he could do anything at all—the gun in his hand was struck by a massive, flying axe. Stormbreaker sheared the weapon completely in half, embedding itself deep into the wall with a deafening thud. “I told you to stay away from her, did I not?”

And then came hell. Thor burst through the doorway, a literal storm rolling in behind him. He didn't even use his weapon. He descended on Valentin like an enraged deity, reaching out and grabbing the man by the collar of his expensive suit. “No—“ Valentin scrambled, his face draining of all color as he looked up into the face of a god.

“You hit her, and you tried to kiss her?” Thor rumbled, his voice shaking the light fixtures above. “You are in big trouble, boy.”

With a display of raw strength, Thor hoisted him completely off the floor and slammed him ruthlessly against the concrete wall. Thor's eyes completely turned into a blinding, static blue, the white-hot electricity arcing across his shoulders and down his arms. Valentin desperately pleaded for his life, gasping for air, but Thor was entirely deaf to it.

You slid down to the floor, clutching your throbbing head, watching the entire scene unfold in awe. Thor grabbed Valentin by the neck, lifting him higher, and delivered two brutal, bone-crushing punches straight to his jaw. Then, with a dark, final grunt of fury, he let the lightning loose. A massive burst of pure electricity fried Valentin instantly, dropping his lifeless body to the floor in a smoking heap. Oops.

The room went quiet, save for the faint hum of residual static. Thor immediately spun around, the terrifying god of war instantly vanishing the moment his eyes landed on you. He rushed to his knees at your side, his large hand gently but firmly holding your jaw, tilting your head up to assess the dark bruising swelling near your temple.

You tried to pull away slightly, the intensity of his focus making your chest tighten. “I'm fine,” you muttered. But your heart was beating erratically in your chest, completely overwhelmed by the unhinged protectiveness he had just shown. He had literally killed a man for putting a hand on you. He was fussing over you like you were the most precious thing in the universe. Was he really the same guy you thought regretted everything this morning?

Seeing the deep, pained expression of guilt and fear swirling in his blue eyes, you let out a soft sigh, your voice softening. “I heal fast, remember?” Thor cleared his throat, his thumb lingering against your jaw for one more second before he reluctantly nodded and let you go.

He helped you up and you both quickly slipped out of the room, heading out into the humid night air. You sprinted back to the villa, throwing your clothes into your luggage in a silent rush, before moving stealthily toward the designated extraction point in the cliffs. Once outside in the dark, Thor held Stormbreaker high into the sky, the Bifrost roaring down in a blinding beam of rainbow light, swallowing you both whole.

—

It has been two days since you came back, and you and Thor were completely ignoring each other. It was obvious to everyone else in the compound; it was the exact polar opposite of what you guys were always like. Normally, you kept riling each other up because you secretly loved it. You yelled at each other, threatened each other daily, but you were always together, attached at the hip like some dysfunctional shadow.

Now? He let you have your morning coffee without a single fuss. You let him be whenever he talked like the booming Asgardian he is, not even bothering to roll your eyes. You weren't even in the same room unless it was absolutely necessary to begin with; either you or Thor would leave the second the other walked in. It was an undeniable fact that youwere both desperately staying away from each other.

And you missed him. You missed the way he riled you up, missed the way he smiled down at you with that smug but inexplicably sweet expression on his face... you missed him so much it hurt your very soul. Natasha had quietly asked about it, Tony made a few mocking jokes, Steve only silently analyzed you two with a furrowed brow, and Scott? Well, Scott wasn't really aware of anything going on. But Rocket had literally yelled, “Why the hell are you two not fighting?!” at the both of you in the kitchen yesterday. You had only turned and left the room without a word, while Thor merely grunted, staring miserably into his mug as he sipped his coffee.

You had mandatory team training today. Eager to avoid any confrontation, you woke up at 5:00 AM just to have your coffee and breakfast completely away from him and everyone else, before retreating straight back to your room to get ready into your tight, black gear.

Thor woke up a few hours later and had his coffee as usual, but it felt entirely tasteless without the usual, fiery fight he had with you over who got to pour the first cup. Fuck, he missed you. He missed you so much he felt it aching deep in his bones, his heart, his lungs—everywhere. He hated this distance. He hated the silence.

He quickly made his way down to the training area, his intense blue eyes scanning the perimeter the second he stepped foot on the grass, instantly searching for you. And there you were near the equipment mats, talking to Steve with a quiet familiarity, just like you had been doing for the last two days. The sight of you leaning in slightly to hear what the captain was saying made rage build inside Thor's chest. The static in his veins flared, his jaw locking hard as his fists clenched at his sides.

It cannot be, his mind echoed fiercely, a desperate attempt to talk himself down. You are getting jealous over nothing. He is merely her teammate. But as he watched Steve laugh at something you said, Thor's chest hollowed out with that same burning, possessive fire that had consumed him before. He turned his head away, staring out across the vast, sun-drenched gardens of the compound, trying to force his breathing to steady. He was clearly out of his mind. He was a god, for kingdoms' sake, yet he was ready to throw down with the Captain over a simple conversation.

Meanwhile, out on the grass near the training mats, you and Steve were actually talking about the exact elephant in the room. “Tell me, doll, what happened with you two?” Steve asked, his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze shifting between you and the brooding god standing fifty yards away by the glass doors. “Nothing” you said immediately, adjusting the tracking straps on your wrists, trying to deflect. “It's obvious, you know? Don't bother lying.” Steve’s voice was gentle, but persistent.

You looked down at your combat boots, the weight of the secret pressing too heavily on your chest. Looking around to ensure no one else was in earshot, you finally whispered, “We slept together, Steve.” Steve's eyebrows furrowed in deep, pure confusion. “Okay... I know you don't exactly like the guy, but sleeping in the same bed couldn't have caused this much of a disaster—“ You snapped your head up and rolled your eyes, letting out a heavy sigh. Idiots. The whole lot of them were pure idiots. “Steve. Not like that,” you said, slapping your hand against your forehead. He had completely dismissed the actual option because his straight-laced brain simply couldn't believe it.

“What do you mean?” he asked again, completely lost.

You huffed, crossing your arms tightly. “We had sex.”

Steve’s eyes widened to the size of saucers, his arms instantly uncrossing as his brain short-circuited. “You—“ he pointed a finger at you, then pointed vaguely in Thor's direction. “Thor—“ he stammered, blubbering out in total confusion, it was very uncharacteristic of him you admit.

“Yes,” you cut him off, wanting to get the bandage ripped off. “And he regrets it, but me? I'm completely in love with him. Yay!” you said sarcastically, clapping your hands together in a mocking, bitter celebration.

Steve stood there in pure shock. You had never seen the Captain America look so entirely stunned, but then, something passed through his eyes. It was like a veil had been lifted, an entire timeline of events rewriting itself in his mind. “That's why you guys were always together,” he said, realization dawning on him. “You two are completely in love—“

“Whoa! Hold your horses,” you interrupted, your face heating up under the morning sun. “I am the one who's in love. Not him. He couldn't wait to escape the bed the next morning—“

“He is definitely in love with you—“ Steve started to counter, his voice laced with the certainty of a man who had been watching Thor pine from the sidelines for years. But whatever wisdom he was about to drop was loudly cut off by Tony’s voice echoing across the lawn through a megaphone. “We're all here, folks, let's get started! Cap, stop flirting with Shadow, goldilocks looks like he's about to blast you with lightning!” Tony yelled, gesturing toward the center of the field.

You stiffened, your eyes instinctively darting over to Thor, who was already marching onto the grass, his expression promising devastation for whoever had to spar with him today.

Your heart fastened at the sight of him, your eyes darting over his heavy frame, completely unable to control the sudden spike in your pulse. Steve grumbled something under his breath about Tony being incredibly annoying as he stood up and offered you a hand. You took his hand and got up, brushing the grass off your tight athletic pants.

Suddenly, a faint rumble of thunder vibrated through the ground. You paused, your eyebrows furrowing as you looked up at the sky, only to see bright, uninterrupted sunshine. Your eyebrows furrowed deeper. Okay... were you actually going insane?

“Did you hear that?” Steve asked quietly, looking over at you. You nodded, relieved that you weren't the only one losing your mind. But then Steve’s lips twitched into a knowing, subtle smirk. “Not in love with you, you said?” he murmured, giving you a pointed look before he turned and walked toward the center of the lawn.

You stood frozen in place for two more seconds, processing his words, before forcing your feet to move toward the rest of the team. Thor, Steve, Tony, Bruce, Scott, Nat, Clint, and even Rocket—everyone was gathered on the grass.

“Alright, listen up, children,” Tony announced, clapping his hands together. “Today we're doing partner drills. Mixed combat.” Rocket immediately hopped forward, pointing a tiny, clawed finger at you. “Pair me with Shadow! I wanna be her badass partner!”

“Why does this bunny keep yelling?” Tony muttered, rubbing his temples before looking down at the raccoon and pointing a dramatic finger across the yard. “No! Look at pointbreak over there!” He gestured toward Thor, who was standing like a dark, towering statue of menace, the grass practically singeing beneath his boots. “He's going to be her partner or we're all getting barbecued today!”

Your expression soured instantly. Okay, what the hell? Did everyone switch sides? Tony knew Thor despised you so why would he try to pair you up with him? Rocket turned his head to look at Thor, blinked at the glare the god was throwing his way, and made a startled, defensive expression. “Okay, yeah, you're right.” But then Rocket snapped his head back to Tony, baring his teeth. “I'm not a fucking bunny!”

Steve immediately interrupted, his captain instincts kicking in. “Rocket, language!” You rolled your eyes heavily. “Really, Steve?”

“Grandpa,” Tony muttered in agreement, rolling his eyes. “Alright, let's start.”

Your partner was Thor, as Tony had so graciously assigned, and standing across from you on the mats was Steve paired up with Bruce. The strategy was obvious—Bruce was meant to keep Thor occupied. The second the starting signal was given, Hulk lunged straight at Thor.

While Thor was engaged, his massive fists trading heavy blows with the green giant, he kept looking sideways at you. He was completely distracted by how easily you and Steve had slid into perfect synchronization. His blood burned hot in his veins. Focus, his mind echoed fiercely, but every time he saw Steve catch your arm to fling you into a high kick, his vision swam with red. With a roar of frustration, Thor drove a massive punch straight into the Hulk's jaw, sending the massive beast stumbling back a few heavy steps.

Meanwhile, you and Steve were moving seamlessly. You ducked low under Steve's arm, using his shoulder as leverage to drive a brutal spin-kick directly into his abdomen but he caught your foot smiling at you. You retreated yoou foot, vaulted off the ground, twisting mid-air to deliver a kick. But something that shouldn't have happened, happened. As you came down, Steve extended a hand, catching you firmly by the waist to stabilize your landing.

The moment Steve’s hands locked onto your waist, the sky changed. Thick, dark storm clouds suddenly swirled over the compound out of nowhere, completely blocking the sun in a matter of seconds. A massive, deafening rumble of thunder crashed directly overhead, accompanied by a simple, gravelly growl, “No.”

You blinked, looking over just in time to see Thor completely abandon his fight with the Hulk, turning his back on the training exercise entirely as he marched straight toward you.

“No,” he simply repeated, his face a mask of pure fury. Before you or Steve could even register what was happening, Thor reached out, his hands wrapping around your upper arms, and yanked you away from Steve, pulling you flush against his chest.

Your eyes narrowed into lethal slits, the physical contact setting your nerves on fire. “What the hell do you think you're doing?”

“I am removing you from Steve's arms,” he stated matter-of-factly, his chest heaving heavily against your back, his deep voice carrying a possessive finality.

Every single eye on the field was instantly focused on the two of you. The entire team stood frozen in pure shock—except for Steve. Steve would have been shocked too, if he hadn't just heard your confession three minutes prior.

“Thor, calm down,” Steve said evenly, raising his hands in a placating gesture.

But Thor snapped his head up, his blue eyes blazing with static electricity. “Do not talk, Steve,” he threatened, a rumble vibrating from his throat. Absolute displeasure and violence radiated off his massive frame.

“Don't,” you hissed, struggling fiercely against his iron grip, trying to wrench your arms free. “Don't you dare try to act all possessive now, when you are the one who regrets everything—“

“Regret?” Thor asked, the word cutting through his anger as he stopped, staring down at you. “Me?”

Then, to your utter fury, he let out a dark, breathless chuckle. “You are a hypocrite, Little Flame.”

Natasha took one look at the amount of tension and immediately turned to the rest of the team. “I think we should give them space.” Tony didn't even glance away, his eyes wide as he actively enjoyed the spectacle. It was like he was watching his absolute favorite primetime drama play out live. “Why? We're all outdoors. Shouldn't they be the ones to go inside for privac—“

“Tony,” Natasha said warning him.

“Okay, alright,” Tony caved, raising his hands.

He and the rest of the team quickly retreated toward the compound, but even Natasha couldn't help herself; the second they got inside, the entire lineup of Avengers pressed themselves against the glass doors, watching the drama unfold through the windows.

“What is that supposed to mean?” You countered fiercely, turning fully in his grip to face him, your chest heaving.

“You are the one who regrets everything! Flirting with Steve the second you came back—“

“Excuse me? We were not flirting!” you yelled back, chuckling in pure, broken frustration as you looked away for a split second before snapping your eyes back to his burning gaze. “We were talking, like friends do! Hold on—you don't get to question me on that, seeing as you were clearly comfortable flirting with her!”

Thor huffed, his eyebrows furrowing in genuine confusion. “Who have I flirted with?!”

“Don't play dumb now, Thor! THE RECEPTIONIST!” you screamed, the weight of the last forty-eight hours finally breaking through your defenses. Tears of hot, angry frustration built up rapidly in your eyes, blurring your vision as your voice cracked. “You left me the second the sun rose! You left the bed completely empty! And then you proceeded to go and flirt with her!”

“I was not flirting with her!” he bellowed, the desperation in his voice cracking through the thunder rolling above. “I woke up early because I wanted to surprise you,” he insisted, completely ignoring the venom dripping from your words. “You were sleeping so deeply... you looked so peaceful, and I did not want to wake you. I went down there specifically to get your favorite fruits and coffee to bring back to our quarters. That girl—she just approached me. I did not even hear a word she said, I swear it to you by the All-Father! I was only thinking of you.”

You scoffed, a broken, trembling sound. “And the smiling?” you challenged, your voice shaking despite your best efforts to keep your shields up. “You looked down at her and smiled, Thor. I saw you.”

He shook his head frantically, “I was smiling because I was happy!” he burst out, his massive chest heaving under his athletic shirt. “I was thinking about how you looked in my arms. I was thinking about what you told me before you slept. I was happy because of you, Little Flame. Not her. Never her.”

You stared up at him, your breath hitching sharply in your throat. He sounded so painfully sincere, so desperately eager to clear his name, but the cold dread of your own insecurities was still screaming in the back of your mind.

“You left the bed empty,” you whispered, your professional facade completely shattering as your voice cracked, exposing the raw, bleeding core of your heart. “You weren't there when I woke up.”

Thor froze. His eyebrows knitted together tightly as the realization of what you had been torturing yourself with finally dawned on his mind. His heart dropped straight to his stomach, a weight crushing him as he realized the terror and abandonment he had accidentally put you through.

“Oh, gods,” he breathed, his fierce, possessive expression melting into pure heartbreak. His voice cracked with emotion. “You thought I regretted it? You thought I left you?”

You looked away, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze. “You—“ You tried to speak, but a small, pathetic sniffle escaped you instead. The sound made Thor take a sharp, painful intake of breath. Moving instantly, his large hand came up, his fingers gently but firmly holding your chin to force your face back up so you had to look at him.

“I do not regret it. I could never regret it,” he said, his blue eyes swimming with a matching pain as he looked down at your tear-stained face.

You sniffled again, looking up at him through wet lashes. Your heart was beating frantically against your ribs, a spark of dangerous, beautiful hope flaring to life in your chest. Taking a breath, you asked something you never, in a million years, thought you would ever ask the arrogant god.

“Do you like me?” you whispered, your small hand coming up to hold the thick wrist of the arm holding your chin.

Thor's face immediately scrunched up into a deeply offended, dismissive expression. “Not so much.”

Your heart instantly dropped straight to your stomach, the rejection freezing your blood. “But you—“

Before you could finish the sentence, Thor reached out and grabbed your cheeks with both of his massive hands, tilting your head up as he brought his mouth down on yours. He kissed you deeply, passionately, a bruising, breathless possession that completely wiped all thoughts from your brain. When he finally pulled back just a fraction, his thumbs wiping the fresh tears from your cheeks, he continued his sentence.

“I do not like you. I am completely and utterly in love with you,” he confessed, the words hitting you right in the center of your chest.

A startled, watery laugh bubbled out of your throat. “You dumbass,” you chuckled, your hands moving to grip his forearms as a massive, radiant smile finally broke across your face. “Why would you word it like that?” Thor didn't care about his poor phrasing; his eyes were boring into yours with an intense, desperate seriousness. “Do you?” he asked, looking down at you with adoration.

"Do I what?"

“Regret it,”

“I don't,” you said, shaking your head without a single second of hesitation. “Why would I, when you are the man I am completely in love with?” you whispered, finally letting the confession pass your lips.

Thor’s blue eyes lit up like a blinding flash of lightning. A breathtaking smile split his handsome face, and without waiting another syllable, he slammed his lips back onto yours, kissing you with a ferocious, joyful hunger.

“I do not know what is wrong with me, Little Flame,” he mumbled against your lips between deep, bruising kisses. “I do not know how I did not realize sooner how pathetically in love I am with you.” His large hands slid down from your face, wrapping firmly around your waist and lifting you slightly off the grass to deepen the kiss, completely forgetting they were standing in the middle of a compound training field.

Inside the building, behind the massive glass doors, the entire lineup of Avengers was pressed flat against the window. Tony was rooted completely in place, his mouth agape, his hands raised in bewilderment. “Are you guys seeing what I am seeing, or am I hallucinating? Is Pointbreak currently kissing Shadow?”Natasha stood next to him, a triumphant, knowing smirk spreading across her lips as she crossed her arms. “About damn time.”

Outside, Thor kept kissing you thoroughly, but suddenly, he pulled his face away by a mere inch. Your eyebrows knitted together in immediate irritation at the loss of contact. “What is it?” You asked. Thor hesitated, his jaw flexing as he muttered just one word, the lingering jealousy still clear in his tone: “Steve?”

You rolled your eyes, letting out a breathless laugh as you locked your hands behind his neck and pulled his head right back down to your lips. “Don't piss me off while I'm kissing you,” you murmured against his mouth.

Thor let out a low, vibrating hum of pure compliance against your lips. “You are right, I’m sorry, I love you,” he mumbled onto your mouth, his grip on your waist tightening as he buried his face back into yours.

—

Masterlist

Taglist: @sinceimetyou @awkwardgiraffe726 @midasgard @mediocre-introvert @gurlidkiread @claytaysversion @landocat

[jaylinet]

Literally the best account for Thor fics!! 💕

[smgespn]

Omg thank youuuu!! 😭❤️

[smgespn]

Not So Much

Masterlist

Pairing: Thor Odinson X Reader

Summary: He was your teammate but also the person you disliked the most in the universe. He was always loud, he thrived on impulsive decisions, and he loved annoying you. You were the opposite, you moved through shadows quietly, analyzed every move before you made them. And now? They were sending you on a mission with him. Just the two of you. As husband and wife.

Content: Fake Marriage, Enemies To Lovers, Forced Proximity, Yearning, Tension, Slow Burn, Angst, Infinity War-Endgame Thor, King Thor, Protective Thor, Jealous Thor, Possessive Thor, Jealous Reader, They Are Touching Each Other Every Chance They Get, Bickering Final Boss, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Explicit SMUT (It starts from '—', and ends with it so you can skip it if you want)

Word Count: 40k

Note: I live for annoying but sweet Thor 😭 His most dominant personality traits i swear and the way he gets angry FAST😛 My mannn fr (took me a whole month to write this, not proofread sorry for any typos or mistakes)

Minors Do Not Interact

—

You wanted to kill him.

You wanted, with every fiber of your being, to wrap your hands around his thick, infuriating neck and choke the life out of him right there on the polished marble floor of the Avengers Compound kitchen. It was a beautiful, violent fantasy that played in your mind in vivid detail—but unfortunately for you, the man was a damn god, and your fingers would probably snap before his airway even constricted.

“I said no, Thor. I got here first,” you hissed, your voice a sharp, venomous whisper as you slammed your shoulder into his side, trying to forcefully shove his massive frame away from the espresso machine.

The sleek chrome appliance sat on the counter like a holy grail, reflecting the harsh morning light. At this ungodly hour, that single machine was the only thing bonding your soul to the realm of the living. You just loved your morning coffee too much. It was the one ritual that made your life feel somewhat normal. And he, as always, was standing squarely in the way—demanding, with all the unearned arrogance of Asgardian royalty, that he be the first one to use it.

“Stop pushing me away, will you? It does nothing but tickle me, Little Flame,” he grumbled, a deep sound that came from somewhere deep in his broad chest.

He didn't even look at you, his eyes fixed on the digital screen of the machine as his large hands came down to carelessly pry your fingers off his waist. Your eyes narrowed into lethal slits, the heat rising in your cheeks at the sound of the ridiculous nickname and the casual condescension dripping from his tone.

“I have been telling you for years, Thor, stop calling me that,” you snapped, pulling your hands back and crossing them over your chest in a furious, protective stance. “And what is that supposed to mean? Are you implying that I’m weak?”

Thor finally turned his head, his short, textured blonde hair catching the fluorescent lights. A lazy, incredibly punchable smirk broke across his handsome face. He held his massive, heavily muscled arm out horizontally, creating an unbreakable physical barrier that completely blocked you from reaching the coffee pods.

“Why? I think it rather suits you. Feisty little—”

Before he could finish the sentence, you slapped his forearm with a loud, resounding smack, grabbing his wrist with both hands and pulling down with all your weight, trying to rip his arm away from the machine. It was like trying to move a mountain with a piece of string.

“Weaker than me, surely,” he said, his smirk widening as he easily kept his arm locked in place against your full-body strain.

Okay, fine. He was stating a cold, unyielding fact. He was a cosmic entity. He was objectively, biologically stronger than you. Your cell structure had been locked in a permanent, un-aging loop by a rogue lab experiment, giving you endless youth and an unbreakable healing factor—not the brute strength to wrestle the God of Thunder. But you would rather walk barefoot on needles than ever admit his physical superiority to his face.

“What are you two bickering about again?”

Natasha’s exhausted, monotone voice sliced through the tension. She walked into the kitchen, holding an empty mug, her green eyes fixed on the two of you with the heavy, soul-deep weariness of a woman who was entirely done with you being at each other's throats every five minutes.

That was the true tragedy of your existence. Outside the reinforced walls of this compound, Thor was a global icon. He was the golden savior, a benevolent, charming god who was nice to every single human being he encountered. If you went to the press and told them how much he absolutely loved to torment, provoke, and annoy you on a daily basis, not a single soul on Earth would believe you. To the rest of the universe, he was a god. To you, he was a giant, golden-retriever-brained nuisance.

Your left eye literally twitched with fury as you whipped your head around to face Nat. “He’s being a child again!”

“I am only in need of my morning beverage—” Thor protested smoothly.

“I got here first!” You spun back toward him, throwing your hands up in the air, your eyes wide with erratic anger.

“And I will be drinking my coffee, first,” he replied with a smug tilt of his chin.

Before you could lunge forward to block him, his large fingers immediately darted past your face and pushed the start button. The machine whirred to life, a dark stream of espresso pouring directly into the ceramic cup you had painstakingly selected and placed there a minute ago.

Thor watched the liquid fill the mug, leaning his hip against the counter as he grabbed the handle. “See? Easy as that,” he mumbled, grinning straight into the steam as he took a slow, loud, deliberate sip right in front of your face.

Your face went a furious, burning red. Your breath hitched, your vision blurring with a wave of pure, chaotic rage. You wanted to grab that hot mug straight out of his hand and throw the boiling liquid right over his clean grey t-shirt. You wanted to watch the stain spread across his chest while you laughed in his face.

Honestly? That was a damn good idea. Your muscles coiled, your fingers twitching as you prepared to lunge at him and commit a felony.

But just as your sneakers gripped the tile, Natasha let out a sharp, interrupting sigh. “The team is waiting for you in the briefing room,” she said, turning on her heel and gesturing toward the sliding glass doors of the hallway. “Let’s go, lovebirds.”

The words cut through the kitchen like a sudden frost. You and Thor both froze instantly, the childish hostility evaporating into a stunned, icy paralysis.

“What?” you said in perfect unison. The word tore from your throats at the exact same second, your voices blending together as you both whipped your heads around to look at Natasha. But she didn't stop to explain—she simply walked down the corridor toward the war room, a wicked, knowing smirk playing on the corner of her lips as she left the two of you standing in the quiet kitchen, completely blindsided by the ominous weight of her words.

“Fucking weirdos everywhere,” you grumbled under your breath.

Before he could even swallow his next stolen sip, you forcefully jammed your palms right into the center of his chest. You used every single ounce of strength your muscles could muster up, throwing your entire body weight into the strike. You needed that damn coffee, and you would get that damn coffee.

Thor actually stumbled back a step, a booming chuckle ripping from his throat at the absolute volatility of your expression. You were completely furious. He honestly had no idea why annoying you brought him such immense satisfaction, but it did. It was an addiction at this point.

In his eyes, you were just absolutely no fun. From the very first day he met you, you had done nothing but jab at him for being too loud and obvious. You were always rolling your eyes, saying things like, “You only know how to smash things and be reckless, Thor,” and “Stealth is an actual concept, you know?”

Now, Thor didn't dislike a lot of people. He was a damn lovable person—the golden boy of the Nine Realms, and now, an absolutely attentive king. But when it came to you? He couldn't help it. You rubbed him the wrong way all the damn time, your sharp tongue grating on his nerves. He could say with absolute, unyielding certainty that he disliked you. A lot.

You were still grumbling under your breath about him stealing your favorite ceramic mug when you noticed his massive shadow was still hovering directly over you.

“Why are you still here?” you asked, your voice coming out far more irritated than it should have. You internally cursed yourself; you were giving him way too much power over your emotions.

“I simply want to watch you sip on your beverage after me,” he said, flashing you a brilliant, smug smile.

You huffed, grabbing your freshly poured cup from the machine. “Thor, just call it coffee. Calling it a beverage does not make it sound any fancier.”

You slid past his broad shoulder, taking a deliberate, aggressive sip of your drink before making your way toward the sliding glass doors of the briefing room. He immediately fell into step behind you, his massive, sweeping strides matching yours in a pure, frustrating rhythm.

“It does sound better when I call it a beverage,” he argued, his heavy leather boots thudding loudly against the floorboards as if he could make his statement more convincing by physical force.

“Sure, lord of thunder,” you murmured, a wicked, knowing smirk pulling at your lips. You knew exactly which buttons to push, and that specific title was your absolute favorite weapon.

“I am the god of thunder!” he hissed from behind you, his voice dropping into a defensive, offended rumble. “You know what? I know you are doing this on purpose—you are intentionally trying to—”

You pushed through the glass doors, entering the sleek, high-tech briefing room with the God of Thunder hot on your heels, still fiercely grumbling about the distinct theological differences between a lord and a god.

“Ah, our favorite couple, arguing again,” Tony said loudly, opening his arms wide in a dramatic, welcoming gesture from the head of the conference table. He leaned back in his chair, a classic, mischievous glint in his eyes. “Still not able to decide whether they want to kill each other or fuck—“

Before the final, crude word could even leave his mouth, your reflexes took over. Your hand blurred. You snatched a thick, heavy tactical folder from the edge of the table and launched it through the air with lethal, pinpoint precision.

Smack. The folder hit Tony squarely across the bridge of his nose, the papers scattering in a neat halo around his chair.

“Ow! Okay, there was absolutely no need for that,” Tony muttered, wincing as he gingerly adjusted his tinted glasses, though the smirk never truly left his face. He looked over at Natasha and Steve, who were already seated, completely unfazed by the morning violence.

“You talk too much, Stark,” Thor grumbled, pulling out a chair and dropping his massive frame into it with a loud thud that resonated through the room.

Your eyebrows shot up instantly as you sat down yourself. “Says you?” you retorted, gesturing toward his broad chest with your coffee mug. “You literally haven't shut up since the kitchen.”

“Let’s just focus on our objective, okay, guys?” Steve said, running a tired palm over his face, completely done with your collective energy so early in the morning. He pushed himself up from his seat next to Tony, leaning his broad shoulders over the holographic table to command the room.

Steve tapped the digital console, and the lights in the briefing room dimmed instantly, replaced by a glowing, three-dimensional blueprint of an ultra-private luxury island floating in the Mediterranean.

“Our focus is here: The Sanctuary,” Steve began, his voice dropping into his serious captain tone. “On paper, it’s an exclusive, hyper-secure resort for the world's billionaires, corrupt politicians, and elite criminals. But over the last forty-eight hours, our satellites intercepted an unencrypted dark-web signal bouncing from the island’s lower levels. A rogue faction has managed to smuggle a massive cache of volatile, leftover Dark Elf technology onto the premises. They’re hosting a private, black-market auction to sell it off to the highest bidder.”

You leaned forward, your brain instantly analyzing the island's perimeter. “So we drop in, neutralize the buyers, and secure the tech. Sounds like a standard Tuesday. Why are we all sitting here?”

“Because it’s a hostage situation waiting to happen if we go in loud,” Natasha spoke up from the corner, her fingers tapping against her tablet. “The entire island is rigged with a quantum-fission failsafe connected to the central vault. If the resort’s biometric security detects a frontal assault, a breach, or a single Quinjet on their radar, the system will instantly detonate the alien cache. It’ll vaporize the island and take half of Western Europe out with the blast wave. It requires a ghost to dismantle the failsafe from the inside.”

“A ghost?” you repeated, a slow, dark smile creeping onto your face. “Perfect. I’ll go in undercover as a maid, slip into the server room, kill the signal, and leave before anyone even finishes their champagne.”

“You’re half right,” Tony cut in, tapping his pen against his cheek. “You are going undercover. But you’re not going as a maid, Shadow. The resort has a strict, biometric-level verification system for all service staff, but their guest list is curated entirely by the billionaire owner—an eccentric, power-obsessed arms dealer named Moretti. He has a strict ‘No Media, Couples Only’ policy for his guests to protect their privacy.”

Tony smirked, leaning forward and typing a command into his console. The holographic display shifted from the island to a digital invitation, written in gold lettering, making your eyes go wide. No.

“Moretti is obsessed with power, gods, and mythology,” Tony explained, his eyes darting between you and the blonde King sitting across from you. “He doesn't just want money; he wants prestige. So, we gave him exactly what he wanted. We leaked a carefully staged, ‘top-secret’ paparazzi photo to the press this morning. The official narrative? The newly crowned King of Asgard has secretly retired from his bachelor days and eloped with a fierce, mysterious warrior woman.”

Your breath hitched violently in your throat. The coffee in your mug suddenly felt like acid.

“What?” you whispered, your heart stopping. You were an Avenger; you were known to the world, but you operated mostly in the quiet, precise darkness. To be thrust into the center of attention like this was your worst nightmare.

Thor froze, his hand stopping mid-air as he went to scratch his short blonde beard. His blue eyes went incredibly wide as he stared at the holographic invitation. “Stark—what madness are you speaking of?”

“It’s simple, lovebirds,” Natasha said, her voice laced with an infuriatingly calm amusement. “Moretti swallowed the bait hook, line, and sinker. The moment he saw the news that the King Of Asgard was on a secret honeymoon, he personally sent out an exclusive, all-access VIP invitation to the royal couple. You two are the ultimate distraction.”

Steve looked at the two of you, his expression sympathetic but unyielding. “Thor keeps all eyes on him by playing the loud, boastful, larger-than-life husband, giving you the perfect cover to move through the high-society crowds, slip into the shadows, and quietly dismantle the failsafe without triggering the biometric alarms. You need his status to get through the front door, and he needs your precision to make sure the island doesn't explode.”

“You expect me,” you said slowly, your voice dropping into a lethal, dangerous sound as you pointed a finger across the table, “to pretend to be blissfully, passionately in love with him? For how long exactly?”

“Not a soul here but you said passionately—“ Thor grumbled but was cut off by you, “Shut up, will you?”

Thor’s hands twitched, like he was holding himself from doing something irrational. He sighed a long breath, trying to compose himself, he didn’t think he could do this. Why did it have to be you, of all people?

But your skills in being a ghost were too good—too fucking perfect for your own good. So he knew the reason why it had to be you, but he protested anyway, he turned to Steve, “I do not see why she should be the one coming with me—“

You didn’t let him finish, rolling your eyes as you said “I’m not loving the idea either—“

“Depends on you, really. Could just be two days or a whole week.“ Steve said cutting both of you off as he looked at the both of you, clearly distressed at your brewing argument, again. “An entire week?” you said, your voice dripping with irritation, your jaw locking at the mere thought of it.

“Hey, it’s a tough gig, but someone’s gotta do it,” Tony chuckled, completely ignoring the murderous look you were throwing him across the table. “Congratulations, kids. Pack your bags. You’re going on a honeymoon.”

—

You were huffing and puffing as you aggressively packed your suitcases—yes, suitcases, plural.

You were practically tearing through your wardrobe, shoving in dresses, hats, sunglasses, and anything else you could get your hands on, entirely leaving the burden of actually coordinating an outfit for later. The second you had escaped the briefing room, you had fled to your quarters. The news was still pouring over you like boiling water, making your skin burn with a restless, defensive heat just thinking about it.

How the hell were you going to pretend to be his wife?

The only thing you were biologically capable of doing near that man was yelling at him, throwing files at his head, or arguing until you were blue in the face. He got on your nerves every single second of the day, provoking you with that smug arrogance of his, making you want to literally peel your own skin off your bones just to escape his proximity. And now you were supposed to look into his blue eyes and play the part of a blushing, smitten bride on a Mediterranean honeymoon. It was sick. It was a comedy of errors written by a cruel universe.

As you slammed another folded gown into the suitcase, your movements suddenly slowed. Your eyes caught sight of the faint, jagged scars marring the skin over your forearms and stomach.

A sudden, heavy wave of insecurity bubbled up inside your chest, overtaking the rage. The thought of being forced into revealing resort wear—of being paraded around an island full of hyper-critical, judgmental billionaires who you knew would dissect your every flaw—infiltrated your mind.

Usually, you were secure in your own skin. You were an Avenger, for God's sake. You were a lethal weapon, and honestly, you did wear dresses when the occasion called for it. But in this context? Under the blinding, global spotlight? You felt like a fraud. You felt like every single pair of eyes on that island would be glued to you, the judgmental, elitist sneers of high society cutting right through you simply because you were Thor’s goddamn wife. You were the woman who had supposedly tamed the King of Asgard, and they would be looking for any reason to tear you apart.

The scars were a permanent, physical gift from your torturers. The monsters who had turned you immortal years ago.

You could not die of age. You could not fall succumb to diseases. Even lethal wounds healed seamlessly within hours if properly attended to. You were stuck living like this forever, the terrifying nightmares from those months in the lab still playing in your mind night after night, making your throat go completely sore as you woke up screaming for them to stop. The experiments had broken your human limitations, locking your cellular structure in a permanent, un-aging loop.

You sharply rubbed at your eyes with the palms of your hands, trying to force the horrific memories to flee from your mind. The ghosts of your past loved to haunt you wherever you went, but you couldn't afford a breakdown today. Not with a flight to catch.

Letting out a heavy, defeated sigh, you declared yourself done with the chaotic packing. You bit your lip anxiously as you got ready for the travel day, pulling a simple, breezy white summer dress over your frame. The fabric flared gently around your knees, and you slid your feet into a pair of modest kitten heels. Finally, you pulled a soft white cardigan over your shoulders, fastening a few buttons, strictly wanting to ensure you wouldn't freeze before you reached your destination. You took one last look in the mirror, masking the assassin, masking the scars, and preparing to face your fate.

As you opened the door, struggling to maneuver your suitcases out of the room, you immediately heard his voice booming down the corridor.

“How are you going to carry those by yourself?” Thor asked, leaning against the wall with a wicked, entirely too handsome smile plastered across his face.

He was obviously going to help you. If the King of Asgard was anything, he was a gentleman down to his very bones—but he didn't just want to be helpful. He wanted to hear the words come out of your mouth. He wanted you to look him in the eye and actively admit that you needed his help. He knew you would absolutely hate doing it, which only made him crave it more.

“I can handle myself just fine,” you breathed out defensively. You leaned your weight back, using the rolling wheels of the suitcases to your advantage. Your pride was still firmly intact because you could easily drag them behind you on a flat surface, but you knew deep down that you couldn't physically lift both of these giant, overpacked cases at the same time down a flight of stairs. But he most definitely did not need to know that.

“Oh? So you don’t need any assistance at all?” he remarked smoothly. He was casually carrying his own massive tactical suitcase in one hand by the handle, his arm barely flexing. It was probably like holding a mosquito between his fingers for him.

“No. Especially not from you,” you huffed, your heels clicking sharply against the tile as you tried to wheel past him, clearly getting irritated by his mere existence.

“Hm,” he just mumbled, a deeply amused sound vibrating in his throat as he turned and watched you walk over to the elevator banks.

You aggressively pressed the down button, silently begging the universe for the doors to open as fast as humanly possible. You could feel Thor’s massive presence looming right behind you, practically radiating an eager energy, just waiting for another opportunity to prod at you.

“What are you waiting for?” you asked, your voice incredibly tight from pure annoyance.

He chuckled, the sound low and rumbling. “For the elevator, Little Flame. Same as you.”

You could feel his massive, broad frame standing directly behind your back. Even though there were a few inches of space separating you, he was like a literal furnace, a heavy, intoxicating heat radiating off his body and wrapping around your shoulders.

You rolled your eyes at the ceiling. “You can carry your own suitcase. I don't see why—” You abruptly cut yourself off, closing your eyes tightly, your face scrunching up in disdain.

Fuck. You had just walked right into his trap.

“Oh, so you cannot carry yours?” he prodded instantly, his tone dripping with sheer amusement. Your eyes opened back up immediately.

Where was this fucking elevator?!

Realizing the lift was taking too long, you sharply turned around to face him. Your bruised, stubborn ego completely hijacked your brain, making you snap at him before you could stop yourself. “I very much can!”

Thor looked down at you, his blue eyes sparkling with a level of amusement that was bordering on infuriating. “Oh, please, be my guest, will you?” He dramatically extended his free hand, gesturing toward the grand concrete staircase at the end of the hall. You huffed a sharp breath through your nose, your jaw locking. “Fine.”

You spun on your heels, deliberately dragging your heavy suitcases over to the very edge of the stairs, desperately delaying the exact moment you would actually have to lift them. When you finally reached the top step, you stopped and stared down at the luggage, your brain going into overdrive as you calculated the weight distribution.

Thor followed you, enjoying every single second of this entirely too much. Even his stance—weight shifted to one hip, a smirk playing on his lips—radiated absolute satisfaction.

“Struggling there?” he asked, taking a deliberate step closer to you.

“Not at all,” you lied through your teeth. Your eyes narrowed into lethal slits as you stared at him, and out of pure, stubborn stupidity, you grabbed the handles of both massive suitcases.

Bracing yourself in your goddamn kitten heels, you attempted to lift them both off the ground at the exact same time.

But the second your muscles tensed and you yanked them up, the combined, brutal weight of the luggage completely threw off your center of gravity. Your body violently swung forward toward the edge of the stairs, the momentum dragging you directly downward. A sharp, terrified yelp tore from your throat as your foot slipped on the smooth edge. You closed your eyes, waiting for the inevitable impact.

You were definitely going down. You were going to roll down a flight of concrete stairs in a white summer dress, become the laughing stock of the entire Avengers Compound, and probably severely injure yourself—meaning you'd have to hobble around the island waiting for your powers to slowly knit your bones back together. Amazing. Brilliant execution, babe, bravo.

But just as those thoughts raced through your mind, they disappeared entirely.

A massive, incredibly solid arm suddenly wrapped like an iron band around your waist. With one effortless, powerful pull, he caught your entire body weight, dragging you firmly back from the edge of the abyss and slamming your back flush against his broad, solid chest.

You opened your eyes—which you hadn't even realized you'd squeezed shut—and let out a shaky, breathless sigh of pure relief. Your heart was hammering like a drum against your ribs.

“Perhaps now, you will admit that you need me to carry them for you,” he mumbled. His voice was a gravelly rasp right against the back of your ear, his warm breath fanning across your skin and causing a shiver of goosebumps to erupt down your neck and arms.

Your breath caught. You quickly huffed, using your hands to pry his heavy arm away from your waist. The skin beneath your dress was practically burning from his touch, but you absolutely did not have the mental capacity to dwell on that right now.

You turned around to face him, your cheeks flushed, your expression a mixture of distress and absolute fury that you had just proven him entirely right.

“Fine,” you said, your voice tight and defeated.

Thor didn't move an inch out of your personal space. He looked down at you, his eyes slowly tracing over your flushed face and your white dress, a smug, triumphant look in his gaze.

“Fine, what?” he challenged softly, wanting every single syllable of his victory.

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, your pride fiercely battling against the cold reality of the situation. You darted a desperate look toward the elevator, but the glowing digital screen indicated it was still stuck on a lower floor. Frustrated and completely cornered, you aggressively slammed your right foot down against the tile floor like a spoiled child. He always brought that irritating, uncharacteristic side out of you.

“Okay,” you snapped, completely averting your gaze from his face as you mumbled, “Ineedyoutocarrymyluggageforme.”

The words tumbled out of your mouth in a single, rushed, completely unintelligible breath, your eyes locked onto the center of his chest.

“What?” Thor chuckled again, the hilarious sight of you stomping your foot and speaking at supersonic speed catching him entirely off guard. A deep, rumble of laughter shook his chest. “I did not quite get that, Little Flame. Can you say it again?” He was enjoying this far too much for his own good, the smug triumph radiating off him in waves.

“I need you to carry my luggage for me,” you enunciated sharply, every word dripping with pure annoyance.

Instead of just taking the win, Thor brought a thick finger to his chin, tapping it as if he were lost in deep thought. He scrunched up his handsome face, tilting his head. “I don’t think that was a really nice way of asking someone to carry your ginormous suitcases for you.”

“Ugh!” You let out a loud, frustrated yell, throwing your hands down to your sides as you forced yourself to look him dead in his sparkling blue eyes. “Will you please carry my luggage for me?”

He smiled triumphantly, his entire face lighting up like a kid on Christmas morning. He finally stepped forward and grabbed your two bags, arranging them in perfect order back-to-back so their elongated handles lined up close together. Then, with a single, massive hand, he closed his fingers over both handles at once. With his own tactical suitcase in his other hand, he effortlessly lifted all three massive bags off the floor without a single hint of strain.

The elevator suddenly dinged, the doors sliding open just as he hoisted the luggage into the air. Ordinarily, you would have completely lost your temper at timing like that. You would have cursed the universe out loud for making you beg for help only for the elevator to arrive a second later.

But the words died in your throat.

The sight of him carrying all three heavy suitcases at once made you breathe in a sharp, sudden gasp. Your pulse skipped a beat in your chest, and your eyes involuntarily roamed all over his frame. He had changed out of his grey t-shirt before coming to your door; he was now wearing a tight black t-shirt that hugged the broad expanse of his chest and shoulders, paired with tailored charcoal linen pants and black loafers.

He looked good. So fucking hot, in fact, that it sent an unexpected, electric tingle shooting straight through your core and settling deep in your stomach. The sight of his veins popping and his massive biceps bulging as he easily carried the weight of your entire life in one hand was—

What the fuck? What the hell was wrong with you?

You were fully aware that the King of Asgard possessed heart-stoppingly good looks—the entire planet was aware of it—but his infuriating behaviour toward you usually stopped you from ever enjoying the sight. You were supposed to dislike him. You were rivals. But what the fuck had just happened to your brain?

You sharply cleared your throat, forcefully tearing your eyes away from his arms as your cheeks burned a bright, furious crimson. Desperate to hide your sudden fluster, you quickly turned and marched past him, going down the staird in a fastened pace.

Thor smoothly followed behind you, his loafers making zero noise on the concrete, while your heels clicked loudly and rapidly down the steps, echoing your erratic, racing heartbeat.

Thor was watching you walk down the stairs before him, still visibly fuming that he had managed to break your stubborn streak and force a please out of your mouth. He was utterly relishing the victory, a brilliant, smug smile that practically screamed he had won etched across his handsome features while he effortlessly balanced your massive luggage in his grip.

But his smugness didn't last long.

You huffed, stopping for a brief second on the landing. With a fluid, deliberate motion, you slid your white cardigan off your shoulders, pooling the fabric into one hand. The sudden movement exposed the sharp, elegant lines of your collarbones in the strapless white dress. You flipped your hair to one side, completely baring the smooth expanse of your neck to the air—and to him. Then, as if you couldn't quite decide what kind of sensory torture you wanted to execute on the King of Asgard, you started heading down the remaining stairs, your hips swaying with a natural, intoxicating rhythm.

Thor took a sudden, sharp breath at the sight before him. His blue eyes went wide, running over your frame, completely unable to decide where to look. His gaze got hopelessly caught on the soft curve of your shoulders, the narrow dip of your waist, the hypnotic roll of your hips.

A hot rush of blood surged to his head. His breath caught violently in his chest, and for the first time in his immortal life, the God of Thunder actually stumbled on a concrete step. His black loafer clipped the edge, his chest heaving as he quickly caught himself.

What the actual hell was happening? He was well aware that you were breathtaking; he had seen the way people’s heads turned whenever you walked into a room without you even trying. But this? This reaction was entirely uncalled for. He disliked you. He disliked your sharp tongue and the way you always had a quip ready to jab at him. He shouldn't be admiring you, yet his heart was currently hammering against his ribs like a war drum.

Hearing his sudden, heavy stumble, you paused and turned your head back to see what was wrong. You found him standing a few steps above you, his jaw slightly slack. A wicked smile slowly bloomed across your face.

“What was that, Your Majesty? Are they too much for you to carry?” you taunted, shifting your body so your chest was fully turned toward him.

Thor’s eyes helplessly drifted downward to your now fully visible chest, his breath catching for a second time that day. The flush on his neck deepened. He aggressively cleared his throat, forcing his eyes up to meet your smirking face.

“Hah! I can move literal mountains, Little Flame. These trinkets are nothing to me,” he mumbled defensively, his voice a bit more rushed than usual. “I simply lost my balance is all.”

Desperate to escape your mocking gaze, he practically ran down the remaining stairs, his loafers squeaking slightly against the polished concrete as he hurried into the main lobby with all three suitcases clutched tightly in his hands.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you watched him go, continuing your descent. The discarded cardigan remained clutched in your hand; you felt entirely too hot, your own racing thoughts making your skin flush. You gulped, trying to aggressively shoo the bizarre tension out of your mind. You hated him. You needed to get a grip.

When you finally reached the expansive glass entrance of the compound, Thor was already standing there, deep in a heated discussion with Tony.

“Why spend hours traveling in one of your metal birds when we can get there in seconds?” Thor was arguing, his brow furrowed in genuine, godly confusion.

Tony turned toward you as you approached, a wicked, entirely too amused smirk lighting up his face. “Ah, perfect timing, Shadow. Point Break here is staging a mutiny. He says you two don't need to board a plane or take a Quinjet.”

“How come?” you asked, your blood suddenly running cold. An ominous weight dropped into your stomach because you could already guess exactly what the god of thunder had in mind.

“Stormbreaker can take us across the world in seconds,” Thor said, turning his massive frame toward you, completely serious.

“But—” you started, your mind frantically grasping for any viable excuse to avoid being that physically close to him for a cosmic teleportation ride. “But how will you carry the luggage while we traverse realms? It’s impossible.”

“You just hold onto me, and I will handle the rest,” he said easily, dismissively, as if he were explaining the most simple, mundane task in the world. You swallowed hard, your heart doing a strange flip. “But Thor, you have to hold Stormbreaker in one hand, and the luggage in the other. What about me? Where am I supposed to go?”

Thor let out a sharp, irritated huff, clearly done with you dragging out the inevitable. “I said I will handle it. Now, let us go.”

He turned away, marching through the sliding glass doors into the bright morning air. He dropped his own suitcase onto the concrete pavement and extended his right hand toward the sky. Within a split second, a loud, crackling boom echoed through the compound as the massive, heavy blade of Stormbreaker flew from his room straight into his waiting palm.

With practiced, terrifying strength, he gathered the handles of all three massive suitcases into his other hand, hoisting them up effortlessly. He turned his head, his short blonde hair catching the sunlight, and motioned sharply with his chin for you to come closer.

You narrowed your eyes at him stubbornly, crossing your arms over your chest. “What if I don’t want to—” Before you could even finish your protest, Thor’s patience snapped. In one swift, blur of a movement, his massive hand shot out and grabbed you firmly by the wrist.

You let out a sharp yelp as he effortlessly yanked you forward into his personal space, his strength completely overriding your balance. He forcefully guided your arms around his thick middle, pulling you so close that your cheek was muffled right against the hard, solid muscle of his chest.

You could feel his heavy pectoral muscles instantly tighten at the sudden contact, a wave of intense, radiating heat washing over you. Before you could even open your mouth to yell at him for handling you so roughly, his deep, rumbling voice vibrated right through his chest wall against your ear. “Hold on tight.” And with a sudden, blinding flash of blue electricity, he raised Stormbreaker high into the sky.

A blinding burst of color erupted all around you as the Bifrost engulfed you both. The roaring force of the cosmic energy threatened to rip you away, and you instinctively closed your eyes tightly, holding yourself steady by gluing your body entirely to his. Your fingers dug firmly into the fabric of his shirt, pulling yourself so close that there wasn’t a single millimeter of space left between your chest and his.

Then, just as quickly as it had begun, the rushing roar vanished.

You felt your heels solidly touch the ground, arriving at your destination in a second. For a moment, your hands remained tightly locked around his middle and your face was still pressed right against the warm, hard muscle of his chest, you could hear his heartbeat thudding against his ribs.

Slowly, you forced your eyes open and pulled your face back, blinking against the sudden, brilliant glare of the Mediterranean sun.

The Sanctuary stretched out before you, you were standing on a private, pristine white-stone terrace that overlooked a sprawling, crescent-shaped bay. The water below was a blinding, translucent turquoise, so clear that you could see the dark, shifting shadows of coral reefs deep beneath the surface. Sleek, multi-million-dollar superyachts were anchored in the distance, polished and gleaming under the midday sun.

The resort itself was built directly into the towering, sun-bleached cliffs of the island. It was a marvel of modern, minimalist design blended with ancient luxury—all clean white concrete, floor-to-ceiling glass panels, and cascading infinity pools that seemed to spill directly into the ocean below. Lavish, vibrant pink bougainvillea and lush green palms draped over stone walkways, softening the sharp lines of the villas.

Your nostrills filled with the scent of saltwater, expensive citrus perfume, and blooming jasmine. In the distance, you could hear the faint, muted clinking of crystal glasses and the smooth, ambient lounge music drifting from an exclusive beachfront pavilion. It was entirely peaceful, completely hidden from the rest of the world, and crawling with some of the most dangerous, corrupt elite on the planet.

You let out a slow breath, your eyes immediately mapping out the security cameras hidden in the palm trees and the heavily armed guards dressed in casual, matching resort linen suits.

“You can let go of me now, Little Flame,” Thor’s deep voice murmured directly above you, a distinct trace of that familiar, smug amusement vibrating right against your hands. “Unless, of course, you are already enjoying the perks of marriage.”

You blinked, sharply pushing yourself away from his broad chest. “You wish,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes as you aggressively smoothed down the wrinkled fabric of your white summer dress. “I’m not exactly into lords, anyway. I prefer a much stronger title.”

“Good thing I am not a lord, then,” he replied smoothly. For the first time, he didn't get defensive or angry at the jab. Instead, he just stood there, smiling down at you with a gaze so wicked that you could practically feel the blood rushing straight to your head.

You internally groaned, chastising yourself. Stupid girl. You really should have thought beforehand that he would turn your own words right back on you like that. But before your scrambled brain could piece together a proper, biting retort, the heavy footsteps of the resort's security staff cut you off.

“Are you invited, sir?”

A burly bodyguard in a pristine, light-blue linen suit approached the two of you. His voice was laced with a deep, unmistakable tone of respect; he clearly recognized the King of Asgard, but he was trying to maintain the island's strict protocol.

“Yes,” you intervened seamlessly, sliding in front of Thor. Your training kicked in instantly, and a perfected, dazzling smile etched itself onto your face. You held up your phone, displaying the exclusive, gold-rimmed digital invitation Tony had intercepted.

The bodyguard scanned the screen, nodding, but his cautious gaze quickly drifted down to the massive, terrifying axe gripped firmly in Thor's left hand. “We... do not allow weapons on the resort grounds, sir. If you could leave it with security—”

“Ah, that is easily remedied,” Thor interrupted cheerfully. With a casual flick of his wrist, the massive, razor-sharp blade of Stormbreaker melted away, shrinking down until it transformed into a simple, polished black umbrella. You whipped your head around to look at the object, completely deadpan. “An umbrella? In this weather?” you muttered, gesturing to the cloudless, blazing mediterranean sky.

Thor’s eyebrows furrowed at you, his jaw tightening in annoyance at your public critique. “Well, there is something called a summer rain, sweetheart,” he said, faking an incredibly sweet, doting smile for the sake of the watchibg guard, though his blue eyes promised absolute murder.

“I don’t think it’s going to rain anytime soon, honey,” you shot back, your voice dripping with a deep, sickeningly fake sugary sweetness as your own plastic smile widened. Before you could take another breath, Thor’s massive arm suddenly shot out, wrapping securely around your waist and forcefully dragging you flush into his side for a tight, suffocating hug.

A sharp, undignified yelp tore from your throat at the sudden impact, but you quickly cleared your throat, masking your shock as you gripped his forearm. He was absolutely enjoying torturing you, using the doting husband act as the perfect excuse to handle you however he pleased. You were going to kill him.

“I can make it rain anytime I wish,” he murmured, his tone biting at you in a dangerous, playful whisper that sent an involuntary shiver down your spine. He flashed one last dazzling smile at the bewildered bodyguard. “Now, let us go to our room, yeah?”

After that, the guard politely led you both through the sweeping glass doors toward the main lobby, where a receptionist stood behind a white marble desk, a bright, welcoming smile on her face.

“Welcome to The Sanctuary. Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Odinson,” she said smoothly, but the moment the words left her mouth, you saw her cringe a bit, her eyes darting between the digital registry and your face as she thought the names over. You noticed the hesitation instantly, Odinson did sound incredibly weird when referring to a woman.

“Is that your last name now, madam? Should I call you that?” she genuinely asked, looking a bit flustered, as if she were desperately trying to avoid making a mistake.

A massive grin broke across your face while Thor’s expression instantly soured. Oh, you liked this receptionist already.

“I genuinely have no idea. It does sound completely off when you say it like that, doesn't it?” you said, leaning against the marble desk. Then, you slowly turned your head to look up at him, your eyes wide with mock innocence. “Honey, is my last name Odinson now? Wouldn't that literally just mean I’m a son of Odin? I mea—”

He cut you off instantly, his jaw clenching as he growled under his breath, clearly pissed. “Well, we are in Midgard, darling. So your last name is now Odinson here, no? It is how things are done on this realm.” He forced out a tight, blindingly fake smile, trying his absolute best not to throw off the receptionist standing inches away.

You smiled right back, utterly loving the fact that you had managed to piss him off so quickly. You turned back to the receptionist, giving her a conspiratorial look. “Or you could just call me by my former last na—”

“No.” Thor cut you off again, his deep voice dropping an octave, completely unyielding as his blue eyes threw literal daggers down at you. “She will be referred to as Mrs. Odinson.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, your smile faltering for a split second. That was a remarkably quick, fiercely defensive reaction from him. Why the hell did he care so much about a fake human registry?

Recovering quickly, you huffed out a light, airy fake laugh for the receptionist's benefit, gesturing toward the rigid King beside you. “He gets incredibly defensive in situations like this,” you told her. Then, leaning in slightly, you whispered in a stage-whisper, “Male ego, am I right?” The receptionist let out a quiet, knowing chuckle and nodded her head in absolute agreement, clearly understanding exactly what you meant.

“I will show you to your room then, Mrs. Odinson,” she said, stepping out from behind the marble desk and motioning toward a glass elevator that overlooked the turquoise bay, while waving over a bellboy to take the three giant suitcases from Thor's hands.

Thor let the bellboy take the suitcases, his hands finally free as he followed the two of you toward the glass lift. The receptionist held the elevator doors open, gesturing politely with an extended hand, and once you and Thor stepped inside, she followed, pressing the button for the upper residential levels.

The elevator began its smooth ascent. Thor looked around the glass enclosure, his massive arms folding tightly over his broad chest. The movement made his biceps bulge prominently against the fabric of his t-shirt, and your traitorous eyes immediately darted downward, following the sharp lines of his muscles before you could even stop yourself.

“I like this Midgardian facility,” Thor remarked, his deep voice echoing in the enclosed space as he looked out at the view. “It is quite nice.”

“Me too. Love the design, honestly.” you said smoothly, flashing a perfect, effortless hand gesture, but as your eyes finally flicked away from Thor’s arm, you caught something out of the corner of your eye. A sudden, entirely unknown feeling brewed in the pit of your stomach.

The receptionist was staring at Thor’s arms. And she wasn't just glancing; she was so goddamn focused, her eyes tracing the thick veins of his biceps, that she didn't even notice your lethal gaze cutting right through her.

You were definitely taking it back—you did not like this girl at all.

Before your brain could even process the irrational spike of possessiveness, you acted on pure instinct. You stepped right into his space, cleared your throat sharply, and forcefully reached up to uncross his arms.

“What are—” Thor started, entirely caught off guard by the unexpected intrusion.

He was completely silenced as you forcefully dragged his broad frame down into a tight side hug. Your arm slid securely over his back, anchoring him to you, and you felt his breath hitch violently at the sudden contact. He froze for a second, his chest heaving, before he cleared his throat and let his massive hand find the curve of your waist, pulling you securely against his hip.

You kept your eyes locked dead on the receptionist, claiming your territory with absolute, unyielding dominance. You flashed her a wicked, razor-sharp smile. The girl's cheeks instantly flushed crimson, and she averted her eyes toward the floor, clearly mortified that she had been caught staring at a married man, beside his wife at that.

The second the threat was neutralized, your actions crashed down on you. You had absolutely no idea what had just come over you, or why the fuck you would ever do something like that over Thor. Okay, you probably—definitely did that because the thought of another woman disrespecting you by looking at your husband made you want to commit murder. Correction, supposed husband. Still he was your fucking husband for now and she was looking at him and— It’s all about you really, all good. Nothing to worry about.

Your face burned with a furious heat as you forced your gaze straight ahead, refusing to look at him, but you could feel the immense weight of his blue eyes staring down at the side of your face—burning you, fucking scorching you with an intense, questioning gaze.

Thankfully, the elevator dinged, saving you from the embarrassment.

The doors slid open, and you caught your first breathtaking sight of the upper facility. It wasn't a standard, enclosed hotel corridor. Instead, the elevator opened directly into the brilliant, open air of the cliffside. It was designed like an exclusive luxury resort enclave; the elevator connected the lower main lobby directly to an expansive, sun-drenched outdoor terrace that led to the private villa section of the property.

Stone pathways winded through lush, manicured tropical gardens, flanked by cascading water features and private infinity pools that looked like they hung off the edge of the world. The ocean breeze hit your face instantly, lifting the hem of your white dress, but the burning weight of Thor’s hand still resting firmly on your waist made it impossible to feel the cold.

You followed the receptionist, her eyes now glued strictly forward as she walked, her posture stiff with the embarrassment of the whole situation.

You tried to subtly peel yourself away from Thor’s side, but the moment you moved, the heavy grip of his hand on your waist tightened significantly. Your eyes instinctively glanced upward to him, ready to snap, but he was simply looking around at the passing scenery, appearing completely unbothered by the situation. Why wouldn't he let go? You wondered why the hell he would keep you tethered to his side like this, as if he actively wanted you there.

Then, doing something you thought you would absolutely never do, you let him. You quietly surrendered, allowing him to hold you tight against his hip as you both walked down the sun-drenched stone path.

Other elite couples passed you by, their judgmental eyes scanning you up and down as they noted the stunning, mysterious woman on the arm of the Asgardian King. This is exactly why he is keeping you glued to him, a strict, grounding voice echoed in your mind. Do not forget the objective, or the fact that you both could never, ever like each other like that. You swallowed hard, your own hand involuntarily tightening around his side for a split second. Why the fuck would you even think otherwise?

The receptionist finally approached a secluded, breathtaking cliffside villa. She opened the heavy timber door for you, stepping aside to hand you the room keycards.

The moment you stepped across the threshold, your eyes widened at the sight before you. Your blood ran completely cold. You let go of his waist immediately, and this time he actually let you.

Your hands were slightly shaking as you looked around the massive, sunlit room. Why hadn't you thought of this earlier? Ofcourse. It was painfully obvious. You were pretending to be a married couple on a honeymoon, after all.

You looked beside you only to see Thor standing entirely frozen, his lips slightly agape and his breathing turning shallow and fast as you both simultaneously realized how profoundly fucked up this mission actually was.

There was only one fucking bed.

It was a massive, ultra-luxurious king-sized bed, draped in crisp white linens and pushed directly against the center of the room, facing the glass walls that looked out over the ocean. Thor couldn't believe his own stupidity; how could he have thought he wouldn't have to share a bed with you on a mission where you were supposed to be blissfully in love? This mission was officially going to be the absolute death of him.

He slowly turned his head to look down at you, only to find you already staring up at him with completely bewildered, panicked eyes.

“I hope you like your room. Have a wonderful stay, Mr. and Mrs. Odinson,” the receptionist said, her voice finally breaking the tense silence that had descended upon the room.

The sound of her talking jolted you both out of your shared panic. You didn't even look at her fully, only giving a stiff side-eye and a tight nod before she quickly scrambled out of the room, shutting the heavy door behind her.

The second the click of the lock echoed through the villa, you spun on your heels to face him. Your voice was sharp, defensive, and entirely determined as you pointed a finger at him. “I will sleep in the bed.”

His eyes narrowed at you instantly. “No, I will,” he counter-attacked, and with two long, authoritative strides, he walked over to the bed and sat down heavily on the mattress, trying to claim the territory by physical force. You scoffed loudly, refusing to back down. You marched right over to the edge of the bed and sat down forcefully beside him, turning your body to face him dead-on. “I will,” you repeated stubbornly, your jaw locking.

Thor snorted, a challenge dancing in his blue eyes. “Okay, then. You will simply be sleeping next to me.”

Your eyes widened in sudden panic as you huffed out a sharp breath. “What?” you said, utterly bewildered by the casualness of his suggestion.

He rolled his eyes, gesturing broadly to the sprawling mattress behind him. “This is a massive bed, love. We both can fit, clearly.”

The moment the casual pet name slipped from his tongue, Thor internally bit down on it, desperately trying to maintain his stoic composure. What the fuck is my problem? he wondered, a silent storm raging in his mind as he stared at your flushed face. There was no one here to perform for. The door was locked. Yet his brain was completely short-circuiting.

Your breath hitched in your throat. Why the hell would he call you that when there wasn't a single soul around to witness it? You swallowed hard, trying to inject some of your usual venom back into your voice to hide your racing pulse. “You are ginormous, Thor. You would probably just roll over in the middle of the night and crush me to death or something—”

“I would never,” he said softly, cutting you off. He looked directly at you, his gaze suddenly changing into an intensity so deeply serious, that it made your heart give a treacherous flutter against your ribs.

You gulped, your mind going entirely blank. You tried to grasp for another excuse, another biting retort, but the gravity of his presence was making you forget everything else besides him.

Thor’s eyes roamed all over your face, desperately trying to dissect whatever panicked thoughts were racing through your mind. But as his gaze drifted downward, your bare arms caught his eye.

His breath hitched violently. His eyebrows furrowed into a deep, troubled line as his vision focused entirely on your skin.

How the hell had he never noticed them before?

Faint, jagged scars were littered all over your arms, disrupting your otherwise flawless skin. They were the unmistakable, ghostly remnants of... what? How could you have possibly acquired them? He knew you possessed an advanced healing factor—he had seen you bounce back from lethal battle wounds within hours—so if these marks remained, the trauma that caused them must have been unfathomable. It must have happened before you ever gained your abilities. But how did you even get your powers?

Thor realized, with a jarring pang in his chest, that he knew absolutely nothing about your history. He knew nothing of what had happened to you, where you had come from, or how you had earned those marks. A dark, protective rage began to brew in his chest, his breathing turning ragged as he stared at the faint lines.

You noticed the exact second his eyes shifted. A cold, suffocating dread pooled in your stomach.

Nobody outside of Tony, Steve, Natasha, and Bucky knew what had happened to you. Tony and Steve knew because they were the ones who had found you, breaking into that dark Hydra facility to save your life. Natasha knew because she was your absolute closest friend, the person who held you through the worst of the night terrors. Bucky knew only because you had trusted him with the truth, knowing he was the only one who truly understood the agony of being a broken, unwilling assassin.

But Thor? Thor hadn't been there when you were saved. He had been worlds away, dealing with the high-stakes matters of Asgard. And you, of course, had never told him. How could you? When he had finally returned to Earth and met you for the very first time, he had simply looked at you deadpan and muttered, “She looks gloomy.”

The comment had broken you. Before he had ever spoken to you, you had thought him absolutely extraordinary. The exact second you had caught sight of his legendary, powerful frame, an intense, quiet attraction had sparked inside you. But he had broken all of that in a single second by calling you gloomy, bruising your defensive ego and forcing you to react in the absolute worst way possible—yelling at him and starting a years-long war of petty arguments. He was the only person on the team who could ever get you to react with such unhinged irritation.

Now, your heart dropped straight to your stomach at the horrifying thought of him having another piece of leverage over you. He could never know the truth. You couldn't let him see your vulnerability.

As you watched his eyes frantically trace the lines on your skin, his massive left hand slowly ascended, his fingers instinctively reaching out to gently touch your arm.

The impending contact made you take a sharp, terrified breath. Your fight-or-flight response slammed into overdrive, and you abruptly stammered out a quick, “I have to pee!” Before he could even respond, you bolted off the mattress, practically running toward the privacy of the bathroom.

You rubbed your face as you gulped, staring at your reflection in the mirror.

I have to pee? Seriously? You couldn’t have found anything better to say?

The faster we are done with this, the better, you thought to yourself, anxiously pacing around the marble bathroom. Steve had said the mission could take anywhere from two days to an entire week. You were strictly determined to wrap this up in two days max—because if you didn't, so help you God, you were going to go completely insane.

You splashed ice-cold water on your face, breathing out a long, shaky exhale. You could do this. You could endure this. This was absolutely nothing compared to the horrors you had survived in your past, but for some reason, why did it feel like this was even worse?

Steeling your nerves, you finally walked out of the bathroom, only to see Thor standing outside on the terrace, his massive back turned to you. Your eyes involuntarily roamed over his broad figure, and you breathed out a long breath to calm your racing heart.

He heard you step into the room—of course he did. He turned back toward you, locking his blue eyes onto your face as he made his way back inside. “I like it here,” he mumbled, looking around the room before his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Where are our things? That servant took—”

Your eyebrows shot up instantly. “Servant?”

“Yes. The one who took our bags.”

You let out an involuntary, nervous giggle as you sat back down on the edge of the bed, rolling your eyes. “Thor, he’s not a servant. He’s a bellboy.” His brow furrowed even deeper. “Bellboy?”

“Yes. People who carry luggage to the rooms in hotels are called bellboys.”

“So... they are servants?” he repeated stubbornly. You huffed, deeply annoyed by his royal dense-headedness. “Thor, do not call anyone a servant to their face. It’s incredibly belittling and—” Right as the lecture was leaving your mouth, a sharp knock echoed from the front door.

“Ah! The servant is here,” Thor declared triumphantly, immediately striding toward the entryway to open it.

“Thor, no—” you gasped, scrambling up from the bed. You were desperately trying to intercept him, wanting to avoid a catastrophic conversation where he would inevitably embarrass the poor resort worker.

But Thor was too fast. He swung the door open and casually leaned his massive shoulder against the wall, watching the bellboy roll your three giant suitcases into the villa’s foyer. However, instead of ignoring you, Thor’s blue eyes were suddenly gleaming with pure mischief as he looked across the room at your panicked face.

Your eyes narrowed into lethal slits. You fiercely mouthed a very deliberate, aggressive 'No' to him.

But seeing your panic only made his smug smile widen. The exact second he opened his annoying, beautiful mouth to speak, your instincts slammed into overdrive. Your brain completely short-circuited. You scrambled over to him in a blind, chaotic rush. Before he could utter a single syllable, you threw yourself into his personal space, your arms wrapping securely around his thick neck as you hopped completely on top of him, forcefully pressing his face right into the crook of your neck to physically muffle his mouth against your skin.

Thor froze dead in his tracks. The sudden impact of your body would have knocked any human man flat on his back, but he didn't even sway. His breath hitched sharply, and his massive hands instinctively shot down, grabbing the back of your thighs to hold you up without breaking a single sweat.

The bellboy’s eyes went completely wide at the unexpected, intensely passionate display.

Your face burned a scorching, furious red as you awkwardly tilted your head back, your arms still locked around Thor's neck. “Just... love my husband so much, you know? Can’t help myself,” you breathed out, your voice strained as you forced a bright, desperately in love smile.

The bellboy nodded quickly, his eyes still dinner-plate wide as he awkwardly parked the luggage.

Thor’s head had been pinned right against your neck, but he suddenly lifted his head up forcefully, his godlike strength easily overriding your desperate attempt to hold him still.

“Cannot keep her hands to herself, this one,” Thor told the bellboy, a deep, rumbling chuckle vibrating through his chest. He was smiling brightly, clearly enjoying every single second of this absolute ordeal.

You literally could not believe you had just done that. You were just trying to spare the poor worker’s feelings, and—okay, fine, you absolutely did not need to jump on top of him like a koala. But in that split second of panic, your brain had completely ruled out kissing him as an option—obviously, because why were you even thinking of it in the first place?—, leaving you with no choice but to launch yourself at him to take him off guard.

The mortified bellboy practically scrambled out of the villa, quickly wishing you both a good day before slamming the door shut.

You let out a massive sigh of relief, your forehead dropping against Thor's shoulder. You hadn't even been able to give the poor guy a tip. You shook your head in deep disapproval, your gaze finally snapping back up to look at Thor.

And that’s when your brain finally caught up to the reality of your physical situation.

The room was dead silent. Thor was staring down at you with an incredibly intense, dark, and unreadable gaze. He was still holding you entirely aloft in his arms. Your legs were circled tightly around his broad waist, his heavy hands were gripping the bare skin under your thighs, and your goddamn summer dress had completely ridden up your legs. The direct, calloused touch of his palms against your skin was burning you like liquid fire.

Your breathing suddenly grew shallow and fast. Oh god. You needed to get off of him right now.

You swallowed hard, subtly shifting your weight to slide down, but his grip remained like iron bands. You couldn't move.

“You can let go now, you know?” you whispered, your voice lacking its usual bite as you stared into his intense blue eyes.

Thor aggressively cleared his throat, looking momentarily startled by how close your lips were to his. But within a fraction of a second, that goddamn smug, teasing smile started slow-burning across his face. You knew that exact expression, and it never meant anything good for your sanity.

“Why?” he murmured, his voice dropping into a low, rumbling rasp that sent a wave of heat straight to your core. “You willingly hopped into my arms, Little Flame. I might as well enjoy the embrace.”

You gasped in absolute outrage, sharply slapping his broad chest with your palm as you desperately tried to wrench yourself out of his grip. He was being annoying, cruel, and completely, fucking insufferable.

“Just let go of me, you pervert!” you snapped, your right hand desperately attempting to peel his iron grip off your bare leg.

He finally let go of you with a low, rumbling chuckle, clearly enjoying annoying you far too much for his own good. “Pervert? I am not the one who jumped blindly into your arms, Little Flame.”

You flushed a furious crimson, sharply turning your back to him to hide the heat on your face. “Let's just fucking get ready and try to find some info on our objective,” you muttered tightly. You grabbed one of your massive suitcases, plopping it down onto the luggage rack with a heavy thud, and unzipped it. Behind you, his quiet, amused chuckles continued to bounce off the walls, making your blood boil with pure anger, but you forced your mouth shut.

You aggressively rummaged through your clothes, grabbing a white, high-cut skimpy monokini and a breezy dress to wear over it. Clucthing the fabric to your chest, you marched straight back into the bathroom to get ready.

You locked the door, taking a few ragged breaths to settle your racing pulse. You fixed your hair, and carefully slipped into the monokini and the dress. Standing in front of the mirror, you let out a long exhale, though your face was still burning with a deep, stubborn embarrassment. You could do this. It was just a mission.

You emerged from the bathroom, deliberately looking anywhere but at Thor as he smoothly stepped past you to go get changed himself. You walked over to the vanity, but a few moments later, his booming, deeply confused voice echoed from the other side of the door.

“This just looks like underwear.”

The bathroom door swung open, and Thor walked out, looking down at himself with a bewildered expression. The second your eyes landed on him, you literally choked on your own spit.

He was wearing a pair of simple navy swimming trunks—and absolutely nothing else. No shirt, no linen button-down, nothing to cover the massive expanse of his upper body.

Your eyes involuntarily danced over his frame, your mouth falling slightly agape as you took him in. The midday sun streaming through the glass walls caught every single ridge of his body. Your gaze traced the thick, prominent veins running over his forearms and bulging biceps, moving up to the broad, heavy expanse of his chest, and dropping down to his rock-hard, perfectly sculpted abs.

Oh, fuck. You felt a sharp, electric flutter ignite deep down in your stomach.

“We Asgardians just go into the waters naked to swim, you know,” he stated proudly, adjusting the waistband of the trunks. “This Earth clothing feels ridiculous.”

He was probably referring to times back home when he did exactly that—swimming freely in royal Asgardian lakes, likely with beautiful women. But the sudden, intrusive mental image of going swimming with a completely naked Thor made you gulp harshly, your eyes widening in panic.

And that was the exact moment he caught the state of your face.

Thor froze. His breath hitched in his throat as his blue eyes locked onto you. Your beautiful eyes had darkened with an intense, raw heat, your gaze completely fixed on his bare chest while your sinful lips remained slightly parted. As he watched, your tongue subtly darted out to lick your lower lip, your breathing turning shallow.

The God of Thunder felt his entire frame go completely rigid in the middle of the room.

You were not thinking what he thought you were... were you? For the first time, a heavy, pounding tension that had nothing to do with anger or bickering flooded the air around you. Thor felt his heart skip a beat against his ribs at the terrifying, intoxicating thought of you actually looking at him like that, willing him to step closer.

You closed your eyes then, and the sudden, intrusive thought of him being completely naked with other women infiltrated your mind. It filled you with a strange, unexplainable feeling—a sharp, poisonous ache that you had felt before in your life but couldn't quite put your finger on. Your stomach actively churned at the mental image, a dark wave of possessiveness and frustration twisting tight inside your core mkaing you open your eyes back.

The lung-burning silence broke when you abruptly gulped, tearing your gaze away from his abdomen as your cheeks flared a bright, defensive red.

“Put a shirt on, will you?” you muttered breathlessly.

Without waiting for a response, you spun on your heel and practically bolted out onto the sun-drenched balcony, desperately needing the breeze to help you catch your breath before you completely lost your mind.

Inside, Thor’s eyebrows furrowed deeply. He stood entirely frozen in the center of the room, his heart dropping straight to his stomach at the words you had just thrown at him.

Of course.

Why the hell would he ever think you wanted him? What was he thinking? You obviously were not attracted to him in the slightest. In fact, it was the exact opposite—you clearly disliked him so much that you couldn't even bear to see a glimpse of his bare upper body, which was why you had breathlessly demanded he cover himself up.

Thor let out a low, frustrated groan, bringing his massive hands up to aggressively palm his face. Why did he even care so much? Why did your rejection sting like needles on his skin?

Steeling his posture, he marched back over to his suitcase, snatched up a matching navy t-shirt, and harshly yanked it down over his head, hiding his chest from view. He desperately needed a fucking drink. He was entirely certain there wasn’t a single alcoholic beverage on this entire planet that could properly numb his brain right now. Not even heavy Asgardian ale could get him drunk enough at this point. He actually was fucking sure there wasn't a single drink in the entire universe that could make him drunk enough to forget about you, your angelic face, these unexplainable feelings, and the damning fact that you absolutely hated him.

“Let’s go,” his deep voice boomed behind you.

Startled out of your thoughts on the balcony, you turned around and walked back inside the air-conditioned room. You quietly followed him as he strode over to the heavy front door, swinging it open and standing firmly in the entryway as he waited for you to walk past.

You went out, your wedge sandals clicking softly on the stone path as you took a deep breath of the humid air, trying to reset your frayed nerves. As you made your way down toward the main infinity pool with Thor by your side, you suddenly felt a firm, sudden tug on your hand.

Because you had left the villa first, you had been walking a few paces ahead of him, but with one effortless pull, he brought you right back next to his side. His massive palm slid against yours, his fingers wrapping around your hand and engulfing it completely.

Your pulse gave a wild, treacherous flutter. Your eyes filled with immediate, defensive questions as you snapped your head up to look at him. Your hand felt like it was on fire, your skin practically melting under the direct heat of his touch. But before you could snap at him, Thor simply gestured with a subtle tilt of his chin toward a few couples who were walking past, watching you closely.

Right. Real couples walked hand-in-hand. You were supposed to be blissfully married, so this was completely ordinary. You forced yourself to nod, your fingers slowly sliding into his, intertwining with his firmly to sell the act.

Before heading over to the pool deck, you stopped by the wooden towel stand. You grabbed two plush beach towels, offering a polite, dazzling smile and a quiet thank you to the young worker who handed them over. As you began walking toward two vacant, prime sunbeds you had spotted near the edge of the water, Thor leaned down significantly to get right on your level.

His warm breath brushed against your ear as he whispered, “Lots of servants here.”

You immediately looked up at him, your eyes boring holes into his face. “Thor, they are resort employees. Stop it,” you hissed under your breath.

A smug, infuriating smile broke across his face. He was clearly enjoying the easy way he could piss you off. Still, his hand didn't release yours; his fingers remained tightly engulfed around your hand as you finally settled right next to the vacant sunbeds.

He finally let go of your hand, though his blue eyes remained highly alert, scanning the perimeter. He took in the entire scene—the crowded pool bar, the glittering water, and the exclusive guests. Upbeat lounge music pulsed quietly from the hidden outdoor speakers as his gaze tracked the crowd.

His eyes locked onto a specific target sitting near the bar: a man with a distinct scar slicing through his left eyebrow, short black hair, and deeply bronzed skin. The stool next to the man was vacant, and he was casually sipping on a dark amber liquor—what Thor recognized as whiskey, a Midgardian drink he had tried during his time with the Avengers.

Thor turned his head back to tell you he had spotted their mark, but the words got caught in his throat.

You had already slid your dress off, leaving it pooled on the side of the chair. You were now sitting down comfortably on the sunbed, your bare legs stretched out in front of you.

The sight of your exposed skin and the incredibly skimpy, high-cut beachwear made a sudden rush of blood boil furiously through Thor's veins. His gaze darkened instantly, his eyes helplessly mapping the smooth expanse of your collarbones, your chest, and your fucking perfect legs. Oh, fuck. He literally couldn't breathe. The air vanished from his lungs, and he averted his eyes toward the sea, his heart hammering so wildly against his ribs he thought it might actually beat its way straight out of his chest.

Desperate to cool down, he aggressively cleared his throat and grabbed the hem of his t-shirt, yanking it off his body.

Your eyes remained glued strictly ahead of you, stubbornly refusing to spare him a single glance. You heard the rustle of fabric and the distinct sound of him tossing the shirt onto the table, but you refused to face him. You unfortunately felt far too many weird, dangerous things flipping in your stomach whenever you looked at his bare chest, and you weren't about to risk your sanity now. Fuck this entire operation, really, you thought bitterly.

You heard the sunbed creak as his massive weight sat down on the lounge chair right next to yours. Your positions were exactly identical, your legs laid out parallel to each other on the matching cushions. You were close—entirely too close.

Needing to ground yourself and focus on the mission, you leaned over toward him, lowering your voice to a sharp, determined whisper. “We either finish this in two days or an entire week. Let’s get this over with quickly, so that I do not have to be your wife for another—” But you had made the catastrophic mistake of turning your head to look at him while you whispered. The words died completely in your throat, and the remaining oxygen was brutally taken right out of your lungs.

Thor had laid back against the cushion, his massive, bare arms raised up next to his head to support the back of his neck. The position made his biceps and shoulders bulge spectacularly under the sunlight, the lines of his chest stretching taut.

“...second,” you trailed off breathlessly, your voice dropping to a faint whisper as you quickly snapped your head back to stare blindly at the water in front of you.

“I agree,” Thor said simply, his deep voice carrying a gravelly, tight edge as he stared straight ahead, too. “This whole ordeal is ridiculous, I’ll tell you that. There is absolutely no need to drag it out.”

You laid perfectly still on the sunbed, the intense heat baking your skin, but it was nothing compared to the suffocating tension radiating from the man lying right next to you.

What’s happening to me? you wondered frantically in your mind, trying to ground yourself as you looked around the bustling pool area. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the man with the scarred eyebrow, and a cold jolt of recognition hit you. He looked familiar because he was your target. Valentin Moretti, the spoiled, arrogant playboy of the family who handled the high-society entertainment and smuggling logistics at the resort. He was the only middleman who held the digital decryption keys to the Dark Elf tech you and Thor were trying to locate.

And right now, he was staring right at you.

The second his eyes hit you, his posture shifted. His dark eyes narrowed, deliberately burning their way down the length of your body, lingering heavily on the high-cut lines of your white monokini and your bare legs. A smooth, predatory smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. He raised his whiskey glass in a silent, incredibly bold toast directly toward you.

“I was just about to tell you I spotted our target, but it seems like he spotted you,” Thor grumbled. He glared over at Valentin, his blue eyes darkening to a stormy hue as his hands clenched into massive, white-knuckled fists behind his head. “Why the fuck is he staring at you like that?” he muttered, every single muscle in his broad frame clenching tight as he fought a losing battle to keep himself from doing something stupid. Like striking the fucker with a stray bolt of lightning.

“Thor, keep your eyes straight ahead,” you hissed back under your breath, stubbornly refusing to look at him. “Tony said he runs the security and digital access keys for the entire compound. If he’s interested, it means we have an opening.”

“An opening to what?” Thor muttered, his tone sharply biting. “He is vile. Look at how he comports himself.”

“An opening for me to get to know hi—”

“Absolutely not,” he interrupted, his voice cutting through the humid air like a sharpened blade.

Your eyebrows furrowed deeply. “What do you mean? We need him, Thor!” you whisper-shouted, sharply turning your body toward him.

He was staring literal daggers across the pool deck, his biceps bulging prominently as he breathed. He looked absolutely furious. You scoffed internally. Did the mere thought of another man being interested in you anger him this much? Did he despise you so profoundly that he couldn't even entertain the thought that a man could actually find you attractive? You breathed sharply through your nose like an enraged bull; you absolutely could not let his fragile ego fuck up this entire operation.

“I am going to the ladies room,” you announced abruptly.

You sat up, your hips shifting with a natural, subtle sway as you swung your legs off the lounge chair. The movement drew Thor’s intense gaze straight to your back, his eyes tracking you with the exact same heavy focus as a certain someone across the pool deck. Thor’s jaw clenched so hard a muscle ticked in his cheek. He knew exactly what you were doing; he was not fucking stupid. You were trying to get away from him to corner the target alone. And he was absolutely not going to let you.

You marched into the restroom, deliberately waiting inside for two full minutes to give Valentin time to notice your absence. When you finally emerged back into the bright sunshine, your eyes instantly scanned the area for Thor, but you couldn't find his giant frame anywhere near the sunbeds. Your brows knitted in concern. Where the fuck is he? You shook your head, dismissing the thought.

Continuing your way, your strides remained purposeful, your hips swaying with an intoxicating rhythm as you confidently made your way over to the open-air pool bar. You stopped right next to two stols away from Valentin, placing your hands flat on the polished marble counter.

“A cosmopolitan, please,” you told the bartender, flashing a polite smile.

Beside you, Valentin smirked and got up, sliding onto the stool right next to you. “Good afternoon,” he smoothed, his voice dripping with an arrogant, upper-class accent as he looked down at your frame. His smirk widened. “I don’t mean to intrude, but I haven't seen your face at the Sanctuary before. I am Valentin.”

You immediately forced your perfected, dazzling smile onto your face, tilting your head up to look at him. “Hello,” you said, your voice smooth, breathy, and entirely welcoming as you deliberately played the part.

Valentin’s dark eyes flashed with deep approval at your response. But just as he opened his mouth to speak, a heavy, solid weight crashed into your side.

A massive, bare arm wrapped securely around your waist, his fingers gripping your skin so tightly that your breath instantly hitched in your throat.

“Here you are, darling,” Thor muttered, leaning down so close his lips practically brushed your ear, though his icy gaze remained dead-locked onto Valentin.

“Here I am,” you said through your teeth. You forced out a light, airy giggle for appearance's sake, but underneath the counter, you aggressively pinched the skin of his arm. Just what did he think he was doing?

In response, his grip only tightened, anchoring you flush against his solid hip.

Valentin looked between the two of you, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise, though his arrogant smirk remained firmly in place. “Your companion didn't seem to care you were there just minutes ago,” Valentin noted smoothly, turning his attention entirely back to you and deliberately stepping a fraction closer to your space. “If you ever find yourself bored with the company, cara, I am always hosting private tastings in the VIP lounge upstairs. A woman of your taste shouldn't be left to just bake in the sun.”

Valentin finally flicked a dismissive, incredibly brief glance toward Thor, taking in his towering height, his bare chest, and his silent, murderous expression. Valentin chuckled softly under his breath, entirely assuming Thor was just some brainless, handsome trophy husband you kept around for arm candy.

You felt your eyes briefly close in pure panic as Thor tried to keep his mouth shut. The tension radiating off him was terrifying; he pulled you even harder against his side, his thumb digging into your waist. Didn't this mortal idiot know who he was dealing with? The God of Thunder looked like he was about to rip Valentin’s head off his shoulders and toss it directly into the infinity pool.

“My husband,” you intervened quickly, emphasizing the word heavily while throwing Thor a sharp, lethal warning glare, “is just enjoying the peace. But thank you for the invitation, Valentin. We might just take you up on that.”

“I look forward to it,” Valentin murmured, his eyes giving your body one last, shameless scan down to your bare legs. He gave a polite nod and turned back toward the bar, entirely unaware of how close he had just come to an early grave.

Thor practically dragged you out of there, his heavy grip guiding you back toward the sunbeds.

The second Valentin was out of earshot, you let out a sharp breath, turning your head to hiss at him. “What do you think you're doing?!”

Thor didn't even spare you a glance, his jaw set in a rigid line as he kept on walking, dragging you right along by his side. “I am not doing anything.” You huffed, sharply slapping his bare arm. “Thor, you're going to ruin everything!” He acted completely deaf, ignoring your slap as he kept his heavy strides forward.

“Tomorrow,” you whispered fiercely, leaning in closer to his side so none of the passing guests could overhear. “I am going to have to flirt with him to get those access codes, and you will not do things like what you just did!”

Thor’s head snapped toward you so fast your breath caught harshly in your chest. His blue eyes were burning, fucking scorching into yours with an unhinged look.

“You will not,” he growled.

You scoffed loudly, throwing your head back. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he said flatly. He finally let go of your waist, sitting back down heavily on his sunbed.

You remained standing over him, your hands flying up in pure frustration. “Is the concept of a man finding me attractive such a foreign concept to you?!” you whisper-shouted, your chest heaving.

He didn't respond as he kept looking at Valentin, his jaw locking into a tight, defensive line. Ofcourse he did not, and that was the exact problem. Any man who set their eyes on you would find you attractive and he could not fucking stand it.

It's because you cannot stand her, his mind echoed, but he knew something was desperately wron g with him.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Valentin was still watching the two of you from the bar, clearly reveling in the fact that he had caused a little disagreement between the stunning woman and her brute of a husband. Thor’s eyes darkened even further as he tracked Valentin's amused expression.

Your gaze followed Thor's, landing right on the smug target.

“Are you serious?” you muttered to Thor. Then, turning your head toward the bar, you deliberately forced a sweet smile and gave Valentin a little, subtle wave.

You turned back to Thor, sitting down forcefully on your own sunbed. “I will do what I have to do, Thor,” you said coldly, snatching up a glossy fashion magazine from the side table—one of the resort’s complimentary services.

“We’ll see about that,” Thor muttered back, his voice dangerous.

You didn't respond, your own jaw locking in a fury so intense you wanted to wrap your hands around his thick neck and strangle him.

So yeah, your day was going exactly the same. You had wanted to strangle him in the morning, and you wanted to strangle him right now. Not a single thing had changed, other than the fact that he was now your supposed husband.

You aggressively kept on turning the glossy pages of the magazine, but your gaze followed Valentin precisely. Between the articles, your sharp eyes roamed over every single person on the pool deck, dissecting them and their behaviors, mapping out the security hierarchy of the resort. But you got bored after a while, the heat and the tension becoming too much to sit through. Deciding you needed a distraction, you stood up from your sunbed to go into the pool.

The moment you stood, Thor’s intense gaze focused directly in on your stomach. The air left his lungs. There, cutting across your midriff, were the exact same faint, jagged scars. His blood ran entirely cold. Just how many of those did you have hidden across your body? He felt his stomach churn painfully, his hands going completely cold despite the blistering sun. But just as he watched you walk down the shallow steps into the water, he fucking saw Valentin look at you again.

Just why did this guy not give up?

Thor felt something violent biting at him inside—something so utterly convincing and overwhelming that his face hardened into stone. He got up immediately, his towering frame casting a shadow over the lounge chairs as he followed you straight into the water.

You were already in the pool, the cold water instantly relieving your burning skin. You swam smoothly toward the far edge, propping your elbows up on the smooth marble so you could lay your head on your hands and finally relax.

Just as you were settling in, a calm expression finally washing over your face, the entire pool rattled with the force of someone jumping in.

You whipped your head around, your eyes wide with irritation. Thor emerged from underwater a split second later, a smug, breathless smile on his face as he broke the surface just inches away from you.

“Can I not relax in peace now?” you snapped between your teeth.

But the remaining words were brutally taken right out of your lungs. Before you could slide away, Thor wrapped his massive hands securely around the back of your bare thighs, effortlessly lifting your body up in the water. The sudden momentum left you with no choice but to instinctively circle your legs around his broad waist to keep from slipping.

“What are you doing?” you whispered into his ear, completely breathless. Despite the panic racing through your veins, you forced a bright, blinding honeymoon smile for the sake of the couples swimming near you, whose bewildered, intrigued expressions were already focused entirely on the two of you.

“I am enjoying the cold water with my wife,” he murmured back. His warm breath fanned heavily over the sensitive skin of your neck as he intentionally cornered you, crowding your front while your back was pressed against the marble edge of the pool you had been relaxing on seconds ago.

Your hands instinctively found his neck, your fingers gripping his shoulders while your thumbs lightly played with the short hairs at the nape of his neck. You looked at him, your lips dangling a mere inch away from his. You could feel his steady breath fanning over your mouth, making your lips tingle with soul-burning want.

Why the hell were your lips tingling with want? Oh, god. Your face burned with a furious, internal heat as your eyes helplessly locked onto his mouth. Both of your chests heaved, brushing against one another in the water.

“I am not your real wife, Thor,” you breathed out, trying desperately to ground yourself. “I don’t need you touching me every five seconds—”

“I don’t need anyone here thinking you are available.”

“What?” you whispered, your heart giving a massive flutter against your ribs.

“Fake or not, Little Flame,” he growled softly, his blue eyes turning incredibly dark as his grip on your thighs tightened. “I am your fucking husband, and every man on this island will know it. I will make sure of it.”

He smirked, and before you could even process his words, he leaned in and pressed a firm, lingering kiss directly to your flushed cheek. You gasped in absolute shock, your skin scorching where his lips met your face. As he pulled back just a fraction, your noses brushed. You looked directly into his eyes, feeling yourself grow hotter and hotter and hotter—

“My honorary guests! You made it!”

A booming, boisterous voice suddenly erupted from above you. You both snapped your heads up, startled out of the suffocating bubble, and saw Alejandro Moretti himself standing on the pool deck. He was smiling down at the two of you, his arms spread wide in a grand, welcoming gesture.

You aggressively cleared your throat, your training forcing you to seamlessly recover. “Hello, Mr. Moretti. It's a pleasure to meet you,” you said, forcing a dazzling smile as you introduced yourself and extended a wet hand up toward the him.

He immediately took it, bowing his head slightly. “It is my absolute pleasure,” he said warmly. “You are the wife of the mighty Thor, after all!” He chuckled loudly, before turning his glowing gaze entirely back to Thor. “Big fan, man. Big fan.”

Moretti extended his hand toward him, and Thor took it, a wide, proud smile immediately breaking across his face because he was being praised. God, he absolutely loved being praised, didn't he?

Moretti started talking rapidly, listing off Thor’s various accomplishments while keeping a firm, enthusiastic grip on his hand. Rolling your eyes privately, you used the distraction to unwrap your legs from Thor's waist, pulling yourself off his torso and slipping back into the water.

The moment you detached yourself, Thor's hand snapped out, tightening firmly around your wrist. He immediately tore his attention away from Moretti, looking down at you. “Where are you going, sweetheart?”

The casual nickname made your entire stomach flutter dangerously.

“Gonna go dry off, honey,” you said, matching his energy as you pulled yourself up slightly to plant a swift, fake peck on his cheek. “Just a bit cold.”

“I will come with you,” Thor insisted immediately, his cheek burninh as his eyes tracking your movement.

“Ah, newlyweds,” Moretti chuckled fondly at the display, shaking his head. “Always so full of love, am I right?”

You gave him a dry, polite chuckle and quickly swam toward the pool steps to get out. As you and Thor stepped onto the stone deck, grabbing your towels, Moretti walked right alongside you, refusing to leave Thor’s side for even a single second. It was like he wanted Thor all to himself.

How can someone not want him, though? the thought involuntarily slipped into your mind.

You froze dead in your tracks, your towel clutched tightly in your hands as your own mind echoed back to you.

No. You did not want him. Certainly not. You didn't, you couldn't—

You closed your eyes, letting out a long, defeated sigh.

You fucking wanted him. And he could never know.

—

You were getting ready, painting a sharp, precise wing of black eyeliner over your eyelid as you desperately tried to keep yourself intact.

Moretti had invited the both of you to the exclusive resort party taking place tonight. Well, you were going to go either way for the sake of the mission, but he had explicitly invited you as his honorary guests.

After the you realizedthat you actually wanted Thor, you had started to see him in an entirely different light. You had felt physically nauseous by the fact that you wanted him, wanting nothing more than to run back to the villa to self-reflect and figure out exactly where your life had gone wrong. But he had not left you alone for a single second. The moment you had said you were going to the room, he had immediately gotten up and followed you back to the room. He had looked so genuinely caring while doing it, which only made an unwelcome swarm of butterflies erupt in your stomach. And the fact that he looked so so good—

Ugh, you were doing it again.

“Are you ready, Little Flame?” came Thor’s deep voice from behind the bathroom door.

You took one good look at yourself in the mirror, your gaze traveling down from your flawless makeup to the white midi dress that hugged your curves perfectly, down to your elegant heeled sandals. You looked hot. Absolutely lethal.

You swung the bathroom door open, only to be hit dead-on with the sight of him waiting in the foyer.

His lips parted, falling slightly agape as his eyes traveled over you, taking you in. His towering, formidable frame was clad in tailored cream linen trousers and a crisp white linen shirt, finished with beige loafers.

Your heart stopped dead in your chest. Was he actively trying to kill you? He was already breathtakingly handsome on a regular day, but the fact that he was dressing like that was doing completely unspeakable things to your sanity.

Thor felt the air brutally ripped from his lungs the exact second you emerged. His blue eyes aggressively roamed over your face, your sharp eyeliner, and the way the white dress accentuated your flawless form. Now, why the hell did you have to look like this and still have the absolute audacity to hate him?

His breathing became distinctly ragged, his eyes darkening to a stormy, dangerous hue as the possessive thought of other men witnessing your beauty tonight overtook his mind. But he forced his muscles to relax as he reminded himself that this hotel was strictly full of wealthy couples. It was fine. You were anchored to him. Right?

“Let’s go, big guy,” you said, averting your gaze in absolute panic as you brushed past his broad shoulder and made your way out of the villa.

Thor’s eyebrows shot up in utter bewilderment. He stood frozen for a second before turning to follow you out onto the stone path closing the door behind him, his voice clearly dripping with a deep, rumbling amusement. “Big guy?”

Your face burned a scorching, furious hot at your own slip of the tongue. You usually never called him anything other than petty names specifically engineered to irritate him, so what the fuck was that now?

“You... are massive. And a man?” you stammered out, desperately trying to make light of the situation as you walked ahead of him, your heels clicking sharply.

“Hm,” Thor just grunted behind you. You couldn't see his face, but you could hear the triumphant smile in his voice as the two of you made your way down toward dinner.

The revelation that you were actually attracted to him was making you go completely crazy, and you were already fucking it all up. Your brain was entirely short-circuiting over how mind-numbingly handsome he looked in that white linen shirt, and calling him big guy of all things was proof that you were losing your edge. All through dinner, you were on high alert, desperately trying to hide your lingering glimpses toward his muscular arms and his stupidly handsome face, praying he wouldn't notice the sudden shift in your behavior.

Dinner itself had been an exercise in damage control. Thor had absolutely loved the food, boisterously shouting “Another!” to the waitstaff every time he finished a plate, leaving you to look at the waiters with highly apologetic eyes. You had quickly smoothed it over, telling them with a charming laugh how incredibly enthusiastic your husband was about their exquisite cuisine. Far from being offended, the staff had been completely fascinated by Thor, even asking for his signature—though the poor guys couldn't take any pictures due to the resort's strict high-society privacy policy.

Once dinner was finally over, you made your way to the actual party.

The bass from the music blasted your ears off the second you walked through the entrance. Thor’s heavy hand was firmly circled around your bare waist, anchoring you to his side as you looked around the crowded open-air venue. You bit your lip, doing everything in your power to mask your fastened heartbeat and the slight panic tracing your expression. To maintain the doting newlyweds facade, your own arm was stretched across Thor’s broad back.

And god, how magnificent that back was. Through the thin linen of his shirt, you could feel the solid, dangerous planes of his muscles right beneath your palm. It made you wonder, in a rogue, intrusive thought, if you could paint that flawless skin red with your nails, leaving little scratches down his—

oh my god, shut up, girl, you fiercely scolded yourself in your mind, your face flashing a blistering hot.

As you walked deeper into the VIP section toward Alejandro Moretti’s table, you spotted Valentin right next to him.

The exact millisecond Valentin came into view, you could feel every single muscle in Thor’s body tense up beneath your hand. Pure instinct took over, you gave the small of his back a soft, deliberate little squeeze, a silent warning to stay grounded.

The touch made Thor instantly look down at you, his blue eyes full of an intense, sweeping emotion you couldn't quite name. Your mind raced. Why the fuck were you trying to calm him down? And why the hell was he getting so intensely tense in the first place?

“Don’t make a scene,” you whispered fiercely up to him, looking at him through your lashes as you kept your voice strictly beneath the thumping bass.

“Do not make me make a scene,” he grumbled back, his deep voice heavily unpleased as his grip on your waist tightened.

Alejandro Moretti immediately got up from his leather booth the moment he saw you approach. “Ah! Here they are!” he announced loudly, his arms thrown wide open in a grand greeting.

Thor smiled brightly, his deep, booming laugh filling your ears as he stepped forward to enthusiastically embrace the billionaire, playing the part of the larger-than-life husband a little too well. You let out a bright, airy laugh right on cue, looking up at them as you seamlessly executed the role of the loving, supportive wife.

From across the table, Valentin was staring directly at you, a confident, knowing smirk pulling at his lips.

Alejandro turned proudly to his younger brother, gesturing toward the two of you. “My guests of honor, Valentin! This is Thor, and his lovely wife.”

Valentin’s dark eyebrows furrowed in immediate confusion. “Thor?”

“Yes! The God of Thunder!” Alejandro chuckled heartily, totally oblivious to the shift in the air as he gestured for everyone to sit down.

The arrogant smirk was instantly wiped entirely off Valentin’s face. He stood frozen, likely wondering how the hell he hadn't recognized the literal Avenger at the pool bar earlier.

“Ah,” Valentin cleared his throat, cautiously extending his hand across the table, even as Thor threw absolute, unyielding daggers at him with his icy gaze. “My pleasure.”

Thor’s lips pulled into a wide, bright smile as he reached out and took Valentin’s hand. But you knew that exact smile entirely too well—it was the predatory, sharp-edged smile he regularly threw at you whenever you managed to annoy him to death in public. It was the smile of a Thor who was profoundly angry, masking his rage with a lethally graceful diplomacy.

His godlike grip must have tightened a fraction too much around Valentin’s fingers, because the smug playboy’s face instantly grimaced in pain, his knuckles turning white under the force of the god’s hand.

You tapped lightly on Thor’s elbow, giving him a subtle, pointed signal to let go before he completely pulverized the man's hand. He finally released his grip, though his blue eyes continued to burn right through Valentin, his other arm instantly wrapping tight around your waist again to pull you back into his orbit.

You went to sit down in the plush leather booth, but Thor deliberately shuffled his massive frame, placing himself directly between you and Valentin to completely block the playboy's line of sight. You rolled your eyes privately. He was obviously being this intensely possessive because the entire resort had to believe you were blissfully married, but he was playing the part a little too well for your sanity.

Alejandro, ever the fanboy, was visibly disappointed by the seating arrangement—he was now sitting on your other side instead of right next to the God of Thunder—but he stopped himself from saying anything to avoid offending his royal guest.

So began the endless praises for Thor.

“I must say, King Thor, having you here at the Sanctuary is a historic honor!” Alejandro beamed, gesturing for a waiter to pour more whiskey. “The stories of your victories on Earth, the Battle of New York, the triumph over Malekith... truly spectacular! A god walking among mortals!”

Thor smiled brightly, his booming laugh easily cutting through the lounge music as his arm remained locked securely around your waist, his thumb lazily stroking your side through the fabric of your dress. “Ah, you are too kind, Alejandro! But a King must protect the realms. The battle against the Dark Elves was indeed a fierce one, requiring absolute precision and power.”

As he spoke the word precision, Thor casually leaned back, his icy gaze flicking past you to check if Valentin was looking at you. Finding Valentin’s eyes darting toward your bare shoulders, Thor’s grip on your waist tightened possessively, his jaw clenching as he seamlessly continued his story. “We had to secure ancient, dangerous technologies to ensure they never fell into the wrong hands. It takes a truly formidable force to handle such secrets.”

“Incredible,” Alejandro said, hanging on his every word. “And to manage such cosmic feats while keeping a beautiful wife by your side!”

“She is my greatest anchor,” Thor murmured, his deep voice dropping into a low tone as he turned his head to look down at you. His eyes searched your face with a burning, unreadable intensity that made your heart skip a violent beat. “No matter how chaotic the universe becomes, she is the only one who can truly command my attention.”

You gulped, your eyes helplessly searching his face, desperately trying to read the heavy gravity in his expression. But before you could decipher it, a question cut through the air—one you should have anticipated much sooner.

“So, how did you two meet?” Valentin asked, his voice smooth as he leaned forward. His dark eyes actively tried to find your frame past Thor's broad shoulders, but Thor was absolutely wiping you from his sight, shifting his weight to keep you entirely hidden.

Your blood ran cold. A sudden wave of panic rushed through you, and as you snapped your eyes to Thor, you saw the exact same flash of panic mirrored in his blue eyes. You had never rehearsed a backstory.

“I saw him—” you began hastily, just as Thor started, “We saw each other—”

Your voices mixed awkwardly over the thumping bass of the music. Alejandro looked between the two of you expectantly, his eyebrows raised.

You quickly forced a light, melodic laugh, covering the slip-up as you spoke over each other. Tilting your head up, you offered Thor a brilliant, adoring smile. “My husband should tell you about this one. He’s a real good storyteller, aren't you, darling?” You squeezed his shoulder, your fingers digging into his shirt.

Thor’s hold tightened around your waist, his thumb pressing firmly into your side. “I must let you take over this one, my dear. Your perspective is far more enchanting.”

“I insist,” you said, your voice dripping sweet as honey, though you locked eyes with him in a silent, lethal challenge. You knew pushing the spotlight onto him annoyed him to his absolute core.

“Very well,” he grumbled under his breath, leaning back into the booth. He cleared his throat, his posture shifting into something commanding. Valentin had slid over a bit to the side of the table, desperate to finally see you both, his sharp eyes intensely dissecting the two of you for any cracks in the facade.

“We met years ago, when she was first recruited to the team,” Thor began, his deep baritone rumbling through his chest. He paused, his blue eyes dropping down to look at you, the heavy lounge music suddenly fading into absolute background noise. “I saw her walk into the room. A beautiful woman. Truly, the most breathtaking creature I had ever laid my eyes upon.”

You looked up at him, fully expecting to see a detached, calculated look in his eyes—the face of a soldier executing a calculated lie. But your heart slammed against your ribs. You were shaken to your core at the raw, truthful look in his gaze. Your breath hitched, turning ragged in your chest.

He chuckled softly, the sound low and intimate, as if he had completely forgotten Alejandro and Valentin were even sitting across from them. “But she looked like she had dark, stormy clouds swarming all over her. She was so heavily guarded. So, my brain short-circuited, and I called her gloomy.”

Alejandro’s eyes widened, a grin breaking across his face. “No way!”

Your jaw clenched as the vivid memory made your blood boil all over again. Why the fuck was he telling them what actually happened?

“I know, I shouldn't have,” Thor murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. His gaze was burning into you, scorching you with a look that made your skin prickle. “But seeing her face... my mind simply stopped working. That was the only thing I could utter. And do you know what she did?” He looked over at Alejandro, a genuine, fond smile pulling at his lips. “She didn't cower. She didn't stay silent. She yelled at me. She marched right up to my face and screamed about what a massive, insufferable asshole I was.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in deep, defensive confusion. Wht was he chuckling about that? He had hated you for it.

“She was the first woman to ever yell at me like that, without a single shred of fear, without holding back an ounce of her fire,” Thor said, his voice a raspy register, thick with a devotion that felt terrifyingly real. He reached down, his large hand gently cupping the side of your face, his thumb softly tracing your cheekbone. The tender touch sent a violent jolt of electricity straight down your spine. “That’s when I realized... right there, in the middle of her fury. That’s when I realized she was the love of my life.”

You gulped, your hands clenching into tight fists against your lap. The air was brutally ripped from your lungs. You literally couldn't breathe under the sheer weight of his stare. He was looking down at you as if you were the most precious, sacred thing he had ever been allowed to hold.

“Then, I chased her for years,” Thor continued smoothly, finally tearing his gaze away from your frozen face to smile at Alejandro. “Trying to get her to agree to a single date. I brought flowers to her quarters every single day, trying to melt the ice. She finally caved in after a while... and here we are.”

Thor cleared his throat letting go of your face and adjusting his shirt as Alejandro let out a captivated sigh.

Your gaze remained completely stuck on the line of Thor's neck, your mind spinning in absolute confusion. He had sounded so entirely sincere when he described your beauty. The way he explained falling in love with your fire, it sounded like poetry.

He isn't in love with you, a harsh, grounding voice violently intervened in your mind. He is lying through his teeth to save the mission. He made it all up. You desperately tried to pull yourself together, reciting the mantra over and over: He hates you. He has hated you for years.

But as you sat there, enveloped in the heat of his massive body, a sharp ache bloomed deep in your chest at the reminder of his hatred.

Why did your chest ache at his hatred towards you? And why did it hurt so bad?

“That is just beautiful,” Alejandro breathed, raising his glass in a toast. “A match made in the heavens, truly.”

You swallowed the thick lump in your throat, forcefully shaking the daze out of your head. Forcing your muscles to relax, you put on a flawless, dazzling smile for show, leaning deeper into your fake husband's side while your heart shattered quietly into a million pieces.

The subject changed then, Alejandro and Thor talking about other things while Thor gave you occasional little pecks on your cheek, his lips lingering just enough to keep your heart beating frantically in your mouth.

“Why haven't you two kissed?” Valentin asked suddenly, his voice sharply cutting through the conversation of the two men. His dark eyes roamed all over your face, calculating and deeply skeptical.

What?

Thor turned toward him immediately, his posture shifting into something lethal. “What do you mean, mortal? I’ve been doing nothing but kiss her since we sat down.” His blue eyes narrowed into dangerous slits at Valentin.

“You keep kissing her on her cheeks. Why not on the lips?” Valentin pushed, his gaze sharp and dissecting.

Thor’s gaze darkened to absolute midnight. “It is not your place to ask such questions.”

The playboy had been watching you far too closely; you should’ve seen this one coming. Valentin leaned back, a smug, accusatory grin slowly returning to his face. “You’re acting like you’re pretending—”

Your heart stopped dead in your chest.

“Do not speak one more word, mortal,” Thor spoke, his deep voice dropping an octave as he raised a single, threatening finger.

Alejandro’s expression changed instantly. He looked at his brother with sudden seriousness, his tone sharp. “Leave our guests alone, Val.” But then, Alejandro’s eyes dropped down to the floor for a split second, as if he were mentally calculating something. He turned back toward you, his brow furrowing. “But... he is right. Why haven't you kissed her?”

Your heart started beating faster and faster, a wave of ice-cold panic rushing to your fingertips. Your cover was about to be completely blown right here in the VIP section. Thor’s gaze darkened even further, clearly unpleased and deeply tense at being questioned. This was not good. You had to do something, and you had to do it right now.

“She is my wife—” Thor started angrily, but you smoothly interfered.

With an effortless, confident laugh, you dismissed the two brothers with a casual wave of your hand, acting as if they were nothing more than little, annoying flies. Your left hand found Thor’s massive bicep as you elegantly crossed your legs, slanting them directly over his thick thighs.

Responding to the sudden contact, Thor's arm instinctively wrapped around your back, his eyes snapping down to look at you immediately. What were you doing?

“My husband and I are very passionate,” you said, your voice dripping with a sultry, unbothered confidence as your hand trailed seductively over the broad expanse of his chest. “We try to keep the PDA to a minimum so we don't make people uncomfortable. Should we show them, honey?”

You looked completely unshakable, but inside, your heart was threatening to leap straight out of your chest. The skin of your legs burned where your thighs were glued to his.

Thor’s chest heaved tightly beneath your fingers as you looked up at him through your lashes. His heart missed a beat at the breathtaking sight of you in his lap. Fuck. You both knew exactly what had to be done right now, or the entire mission was over.

Thor’s large hand found the back of your neck, his fingers tightening securely. “Music to my fucking ears, darling,” he growled.

And then, he claimed your lips in an instant. The force of the impact took the remaining breath right out of your lungs. Your left hand instinctively grabbed the back of his neck, your fingers anchoring into his skin, while your other hand remained flat against his heaving chest. Your mouths moved in tandem, a low, helpless sigh of contentment pouring from your throat straight into the kiss. Your head tilted to the side, completely surrendering to the heat.

His right hand on your back slid downward to your waist, grabbing you with an iron, desperate tightness, as if he never intended to let you go for the rest of his immortal life. His other hand moved from the back of your neck up to your head, his thick fingers tangling aggressively through your hair, tilting your face up by giving a firm, sudden tug on your hair. You gasped into his mouth, your teeth sharply biting his lower lip in response. Thor let out a low grunt, his kisses instantly becoming more fervent, deeper, and completely unhinged. You were drowning in him.

Next to you, Alejandro and Valentin looked at each other, their faces flushing as they clearly regretted ever opening their mouths. They were visibly uncomfortable—good. They deserved to be, so they would never question a single thing about the two of you again.

He was entirely consuming you, and gods, was he liking it. He felt the soft circle of your thumb over the nape of his neck, sending a violent wave of chills straight down his spine. You tasted sweet—sweeter than any other lips he had ever tasted in his thousand years of life. Thor licked at the seam of your lips once, a non-verbal command motioning for you to open up for him. You tried to fight it for a split second, a last shred of self-preservation, but he forcefully made you part them by giving your lower lip another sharp bite and executing a firm tug on your hair.

You gasped, your chest heaving against his as he glided his tongue over yours. He was so good at this. So fucking good that you completely forgot where you were, forgot the mission, forgot anyone else existed besides him. He tugged tightly on your waist, trying to pull your body even closer into his mass, but you were already entirely glued to him, his radiating heat burning straight through your side.

Alejandro loudly cleared his throat, but you both kept on going like there was no tomorrow, still kissing him with a desperate, hidden hunger, as if you knew you would never get the chance to hold him like this ever again.

“Okay. We get it,” Valentin muttered, his voice clearly irritated and completely full of deep regret.

Thor let out a heavy grunt, finally parting his lips from yours. A thin, glistening string of saliva formed between your lips before breaking in the dim light. You looked up at him, your eyes completely dazed over, your hair beautifully messed up from his heavy hand, and your lips visibly swollen and red. He stared down at you, his own lips flushed and his pupils blown incredibly wide as his chest rose and fell in ragged breaths.

Taking a shallow breath, you slowly turned your head toward the other two men, a wicked, victorious smile pulling at your lips. “See?” you said.

You tried not to give away how much his kiss had affected you, but you knew you were a fucking mess. Your heart was threatening to leap out of your chest, your lungs heaving fast as you gulped, desperately trying to calm yourself down. How the hell did he affect you this much?

And he was still holding you, his arm wrapped incredibly tight around your waist as he kept looking down at you. His own broad chest was heaving hard as he fought a losing battle to get himself back under control.

It was just a damn kiss for the mission. He shouldn't be this completely unhinged by it. But he felt his pulse fasten more and more the longer he sat there. You had kissed him. You—the bane of his very existence, the woman who had spent years yelling at him and riling him up—had kissed him, and he had liked it. He had liked it so much that a dark, primitive part of his mind wanted nothing more than to drag you right back to his lips, to kiss you heavily until you were breathless, and to roam his hands all over your bare skin, thats all—nothing big really.

He fucking wanted you, and it was nothing big—who was he kidding? It was probably the biggest newsflash in his entire thousand-year lifetime. He wanted you so much that he felt it shaking the very foundations of his immortal soul.

I want her, his mind echoed fiercely. I want her, I want to consume her, I want to be completely consumed by her.

Thor averted his eyes toward the table, his jaw locking. Fuck. How the hell did this happen?

“Yes, we get it, damn,” Alejandro said, breaking the heavy silence with a loud laugh, holding his hands up in surrender.

Valentin, however, was a completely different story. His dark, calculating gaze was still locked dead on your face, intensely trying to decipher the lingering daze in your eyes, trying to see if there was still a crack in the armor—if he could keep on pursuing you.

You noticed his stare immediately, your eyes locking onto his. A sharp jolt of reality hit you. You were sitting in Thor's lap, your thighs crossed over his, kissed by him so thoroughly that your mind had gone entirely blank. You had completely forgotten about your objective.

The codes. You needed the damn digital decryption keys.

You had told Thor earlier that you would handle Valentin tomorrow, but after the possessive display he had just put on, he would clearly find a way to interfere if you tried to flirt with the man tomorrow. It had to be tonight. It had to happen right now under the cover of this party.

Your mind rapidly formulated a plan: you had to first find a way to get away from Thor, corner Valentin alone at the bar, seduce him, and slip a few drops of truth serum into his whiskey glass to extract the server access codes.

It was a perfect, textbook assassin execution. But as you sat there, feeling the heavy, protective weight of Thor's hand on your hip, you realized something. You didn't want to leave the comfort of Thor's embrace.

Oh, how thoroughly, hopelessly fucked you were.

You had to get it together. Bracing yourself, you tried lifting your legs off Thor’s lap, but the exact second you shifted, his iron hold on your waist tightened. His eyebrows furrowed into a hard line, and his questioning, blazing blue gaze snapped up to lock onto yours. He didn’t say a word, but the look in his eyes was loudly demanding to know exactly where the hell you thought you were going.

Why was he acting like this? Why was he looking at you as if that kiss had completely unhinged him just as much as it had affected you?

You helplessly looked into his eyes, your gaze involuntarily dropping down to his swollen lips before snapping back up to his stare. “I’m just going to the bar,” you murmured.

“I’ll come with you,” he said immediately. His deep voice carried a rough, unyielding edge, his instincts focusing entirely on one single objective: keep that vile mortal fucker as far away from you as humanly possible.

“No!—” you scrambled out, a little too desperately, before quickly forcing a soft, reassuring smile to maintain the act. “I’ll be back in a second, honey. It’s okay.”

This felt devastatingly real. He looked genuinely jealous, his possessive aura radiating off him in suffocating waves.

“She can go alone, my friend. I own this entire establishment; nothing could possibly happen to her here,” Alejandro intervened with a booming laugh, reassuring the tense god.

Taking the opening, you carefully slipped out of Thor’s tight grip and stood up. The sudden lack of his heavy hands and burning heat against your skin left you feeling instantly cold, a sudden pang of withdrawal hitting you in the chest. You stubbornly ignored it. Catching Valentin’s eye across the table, you held his gaze for a few seconds longer than any happily married woman ever should, throwing him a subtle, inviting tilt of your head before turning on your heel and making your way toward the crowded bar—finally out of Thor’s direct line of sight.

You knew Valentin would make up a pathetic excuse to follow you within minutes. Arriving at the bar, you caught the bartender’s attention. “A virgin mojito, please,” you ordered smoothly. You were a professional; you were absolutely not going to consume a single drop of alcohol while on an active extraction mission.

You waited for a few minutes, slowly sipping on your refreshing mocktail while keeping your perimeter scan active. Right on cue, a smooth, arrogant voice slithered in next to your ear.

“I take it you didn’t look at me like that back there just to have a drink all by yourself?”

Valentin slid onto the barstool right next to you, his eyes brimming with a smug, predatory confidence.

A slow, practiced smirk pulled at your lips as you gracefully turned your upper body toward him, leaning one elbow against the counter. “I don’t think I get what you mean, Valentin.”

“Don’t play innocent. It’s not a good look on you,” he murmured, his eyes boldly dropping down to the neckline of your dress before rising back to your face. “Though, I must admit... I really like this whole going-around-his-back thing. A dangerous woman gets me thrilled.”

“Hm,” you mumbled, your smile becoming as beautiful and lethal as a viper's. You leaned in a fraction closer into his personal space, letting your voice drop into a sultry, confidential whisper. “Are you just going to stand there talking, or are you gonna have a drink with me?”

Valentin’s smirk widened, completely intoxicated by the sudden green light. “I could never say no to a woman like you.” He immediately raised a hand to the bartender. “Get me a double Macallan, neat.”

As the bartender turned around to pour the amber liquor, you covertly slid your right hand into the small, hidden pocket built into the lining of your white midi dress. Your fingertips brushed against the tiny, cold glass vial containing S.H.I.E.L.D.-issued truth serum—colorless, odorless, and fast-acting.

The bartender placed the heavy crystal whiskey glass right in front of Valentin.

“You know,” you purred, deliberately reaching across Valentin's chest to grab a small bowl of nuts from the opposite side of his stool. The intentional movement forced your bare shoulder to brush heavily against his chest, completely breaking his concentration as his eyes locked onto your neck.

With a fluid, invisible grace, your thumb flicked the cap off the vial. As your arm crossed over his open whiskey glass, you seamlessly dropped three drops of the serum directly into the amber liquid.

You pulled back, placing the bowl between you with an innocent, dazzling smile. “A toast. To private tastings.”

“To private tastings,” Valentin echoed darkly, completely oblivious. He picked up the crystal glass and took a massive, confident gulp of the whiskey, swallowing the serum down in one smooth motion.

You counted the seconds in your head. Three. Two. One.

Almost instantly, Valentin’s posture relaxed a fraction too much. The sharp, predatory spark in his eyes suddenly dulled into a slight, hazy glaze, his blinking slowing down as the neural inhibitors rapidly flooded his system, forcing his vocal cords to lose all capacity for deception.

Your smirk turned razor-sharp. It was time to get to work.

“Valentin,” you whispered, leaning in so close your breath brushed his ear, masking your interrogation beneath the thumping bass of the party. “Let’s talk about your brother’s collection. Where are the digital decryption keys for the Dark Elf technology stored?”

Valentin’s jaw loosened, his voice coming out completely flat, devoid of its previous arrogant inflection. “The main encryption drive stays locked in the master server vault... sub-level two of the main villa compound. Hold on why are you asking me th—”

“And how do I bypass the biometric firewall?” you cut him off before he could think.

“The security bypass code changes every twelve hours,” Valentin droned automatically, his hand resting limply against the counter.

“Mhm, and what is it lets say... tomorrow night?” you pushed seamlessly, your eyes locked onto his dazed face.

“Tomorrow night's terminal override sequence for the vault is... Alpha-Niner-Seven-X-Ray-Delta.”

Bingo.

Your brain instantly memorized the alphanumeric sequence, a cold, triumphant rush of adrenaline flooding your veins. You had the codes for tomorrow. The entire mission could be wrapped up in less than three days, just like you wanted. You could finally leave this godforsaken resort, get away from this cover, and most importantly—get away from the dangerous, addictive pull of the God of Thunder.

Valentin pouted as he looked at you, his eyes glassy and confused under the weight of the serum. "But why are you asking me all th—"

“I have to go, dear,” you cut him off quickly, placing a hand on his bicep and giving it a soothing squeeze to keep him compliant.

But his hand snapped up, gripping your arm to keep you from pulling away. “No, you can't leave. I had plans for us tonight...”

“No plans for us today,” you cooed, lowering your voice to a soft, hypnotic purr as you playfully booped his nose. He pouted even more at the gesture. You mentally rolled your eyes, already looking back toward the crowded VIP booth to check on Thor.

“But I wanted to fuck you—“

You whipped your head back toward Valentin so fast you thought you were going to get whiplash. But before you could even react to his crude words, he was brutally cut off.

A massive hand descended from the shadows like a falling meteor, wrapping entirely around the back of Valentin’s head and fiercely slamming his face straight down onto the marble counter.

Crack.

You gasped, your eyes blowing wide. Nearby guests screamed and immediately scrambled away, completely shocked by the sudden, violent ordeal. Valentin let out a pathetic, muffled groan as a dark stream of red instantly started dripping down his nostrils, pooling on the counter.

Thor held him pinned there, his massive hand basically covering most of Valentin's skull. You were so damn sure that if he applied just a fraction more pressure, he would crush the man's head like a ripe grape.

“You do not talk to my wife like that,” Thor growled, his voice a vibrating rumble that shook the very foundation of the bar.

“Thor, stop it!” you panicked, your hands desperately finding his rigid bicep, trying to pull his arm back.

Muffled against the stone, Valentin let out a wet, dizzy chuckle, the serum making him completely reckless. “Well, god-man... your wife lured me here—“

Slam.

Thor violently cracked his head against the counter a second time.

“I told you not to make a scene, didn't I?!”you yelled at the top of your lungs over the blasting music, frantically pulling at his arm to stop him from committing murder.

Thor slowly turned his head to look down at you. His blue eyes were completely blown with an unhinged, primitive rage. “I told you not to make me make one, did I not?!” he yelled back, his booming voice completely overriding the bass of the blasting lounge music.

You involuntarily flinched at the volume and raw power of his voice. You let out a sharp, furious huff, tore your hands off his arm, and turned around to bolt.

“Where do you think you're going?!” he demanded loudly.

He finally let go of Valentin, leaving theman to groan and slump heavily against the bar as you made your way out of the party. Every single eye of the high-society couples was locked onto you, whispering in terror as you stormed past.

“Stop!” Thor yelled after you, his heavy footsteps echoing right behind you, but your steps only fastened into a dead sprint.

You practically flew down the dark, stone paths of the resort, making your way back to the secluded villa. There wasn't a single soul around out here.

“I told you to stop!” he yelled again, his massive strides easily closing the distance as he caught up to you just as you reached the front door.

“And I told you to behave!” you screamed back, throwing the door open and slamming it behind you, desperately trying to force the heavy wood to lock on his face.

But you failed miserably.

“And I told you to stay away from him!” Thor yelled, forcing the door open without a single shred of effort—it was probably like flicking away a fly for him—before he aggressively slammed it shut behind him, sealing the two of you inside the tense silence of the villa.

“Why do you care?!” you yelled, throwing your arms up in the air as you spun around to face him, your face burning hot from rage.

“Why did you defy what I told you?” he pushed, stepping heavily into your personal space, his towering chest heaving.

“Because you are my mission partner, not my superior!”you shrieked, the built-up frustration of the last few hours completely boiling over. “God! You and your insufferable superiority complex!” You yelled again, aggressively turning your back to him to get away from his presence, making a beeline toward the open balcony doors.

“Do not walk away from me!” Thor roared.

In two quick strides, he crossed the room. His hand locked firmly around your wrist, his grip unyielding but careful not to break you, as he yanked you back and turned you around to face him dead-on.

You opened your mouth to say something, but all words completely left you as you noticed how your noses were inches away, your breathing fastening to a panicked, ragged rhythm as you looked up at him. His chest was heaving just like yours, the sheer mass of him completely crowding you into the balcony's door. You just gulped, your eyes helplessly finding his lips again before you forced your gaze up to meet his intense stare.

“Why are you acting like you actually care?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly, your eyes filled with deep questioning. His eyes, which were locked onto your lips, finally flicked up to look directly into your eyes. He gulped, a muscle tightening in his jaw as he flatly lied, “I don’t.” He averted his eyes immediately after.

He cared. He fucking cared so much, but he could not let you know.

You scoffed loudly at his terrible deflection. “What’s all this then? You’ve been acting so strange since we got here—” His eyes snapped right back to yours, flashing with a sudden heat. “Oh, like you haven’t!” he said, his iron grip on your wrist tightening just a bit.

“What?” you gaped, your mouth forming a perfect 'O' shape at his audacity. “The nerve of you! I have been acting completely normal!” You aggressively tried to push against his heavy chest to create some distance, but it was like trying to shove a solid brick wall; it was not working.

“Have you, though?” he challenged. His head tilted slightly to the side as he looked down at you, his towering frame completely casting you in shadow. “You’ve been trying to avoid me ever since we arrived. Mind you, we are supposed to be husband and wife here, and instead of me, you kept throwing yourself into the arms of that bastard—”

“Excuse me for acting exactly like I should while we are on a high-stakes mission—”

“Is this how you act while you are on a mission?” he fiercely cut you off. He took a heavy, deliberate step forward, crowding you so completely that you were forced to push your back straight into the balcony door, the glass cool against your skin. His expression morphed into one of deep distaste—like the mere thought of you acting exactly like this on other operations disturbed him to his very bone.

“Not at all, Thor,” you muttered, finally averting your eyes as a wave of genuine discomfort washed over your face. “But I occasionally do have to seduce men here and there. It’s not a big deal—”

His thick eyebrows furrowed deeply. Before you could turn your face away completely, his large hand came up, his fingers gently but firmly catching your chin to force you to look at him. “Not a big deal? Is someone making you seduce them? There are other ways to extract information—” he started, his deep tone initially angry but quickly softening with a rare, unexpected touch of sympathy.

You swallowed hard against the lump in your throat. “Thor, I have been trained this way. And your ways are always too loud—”

“Who the fuck trained you like this?” he growled, the symapthy instantly vanishing into a dark, protective fury. “How many times have you done this, huh?”

Your own eyebrows furrowed in a defensive shield. His entire ftame was looming over you, completely clouding your thoughts and making it hard to think straight. You reached up, removing his hand from your face. “That is absolutely none of your business—”

His entire posture changed as the anger morphed into a heavy gravity. His eyes dropped to your arms first then followed to your midriff before snapping back to your face. “Who gave you those scars?”

“What?” Your eyes widened in pure horror, the air instantly taken right out of your lungs. This cannot be happening, your voice echoed inside your mind. He could not know. You could not let him see that vulnerable, broken piece of your past. “Thor, this is ridiculous. Let me go—”

You tried pushing him away again, your chest heaving in absolute desperation to break free from his hold. But he only used his mass to pin you into the door even more, his gaze intensely determined as his hand found your jaw once again, holding you still.

He was going to find out who those fuckers were, and he was going to make them pay. He didn't fully understand why he had this overwhelming, primitive urge to protect you, but he did, and he was going to deliver on it.

“Please, Little Flame,” he murmured, his voice dropping into a desperate plea. “Are they the same people who trained you?—”

“Why do you even want to know?!” you cried out, your voice finally cracking with deep pain. Tears instantly began brewing in your eyes, blurring his handsome face. He couldn't know. If he found out, he was going to use that knowledge against you. He was going to taunt you with it during your next argument, break you with your own nightmare of a history. He was going to make sure he hurt you, just like he did every single time he managed to get a glimpse of something personal about you. He was going to break your heart completely in half and toss it away.

He was going to, because he was the only person in the universe who actually had the power to do it.

“So you can torture me more?” you whispered, your voice shaking as a single tear escaped down your cheek.

Thor’s breath got caught in his throat. A sudden, physical pain pierced his chest, wrapping around his heart so tightly that he let out a sharp huff of air. It was a pain so great, so profoundly agonizing, that it started burning through his lungs before radiating all the way out to his fingertips.

Is this truly what you thought of him?

He knew he taunted you. He knew he did everything in his being to annoy you on a daily basis. He knew he wasn't your friend, and that you both claimed to dislike each other. But he had never, in his wildest dreams, thought you could actually think him capable of causing you real, deep-rooted pain.

A fierce, protective fire burned brightly behind his blue eyes as he leaned down, his lips practically brushing your temple as he spoke.

“So that I can torture them first as they did you,” he vowed, his voice low, terrifyingly dark promise that vibrated against your skin. “And then permanently remove them from existence.”

Your angelic face twisted into a look of deep, utter confusion. What the hell was he talking about? Why on Earth would he want to do something like that for you?

Thor’s hand softened on your jaw, his thumb gently wiping away the tear on your cheek with a heartbreaking amount of tenderness. He looked down at you, his pupils blown wide with an unyielding devotion. “No... I have a better idea. I am going to tear down whatever sanctuary they think they have, drag them to the deepest pits of Hel myself, and hand-deliver a punishment that will last for eternity. No one touches you, Little Flame. Never again.”

Your heart stuttered at his words, newfound tears completely blocking your vision now at being on the receiving end of them. He sounded so profoundly sincere, so entirely full of devotion that it made your stomach flutter wildly and your heart sing with a bittersweet ecstasy.

Why was he being this protective over you? Was it just because of your mission? Has he started to actually believe the lie, to believe you were truly his wife? And why did you believe every single word he said without an ounce of your usual skepticism?

How was he making your heart soar like this? Why did he have so much power over you, over your poor, guarded heart? Why did he have to be this perfect?

Why did you love him so much?

You gasped aloud as the intrusive thought took the remaining breath away from your lungs. You loved him. You were completely, undeniably in love with him. You were in love with the man who mocked you, annoyed you, tortured you with his words. You were in love with the man you claimed to dislike for all these years.

And that realization only made you cry harder, the tears spilling over your lashes because you were entirely convinced he was never going to love you back.

“I—” you started, trying to find your voice, but a heavy, broken sob ripped through your chest instead.

Thor's face immediately fell into an expression of deep, agonizing concern. His blue eyes searched your face frantically as he wrapped his massive arms around you, pulling you securely against his broad chest.

“Please do not cry, honey,” he murmured, his deep baritone cracking in pain.

He called you honey. He called you honey in private, in the quiet safety of your shared room, while holding you as if you were made of glass. It was so sweet, so tender, so full of an unprompted meaning. What on earth had happened to the two of you? Just hours ago, you were bitterly bickering about your morning coffee, but now you were collapsed in his arms, crying simply because he wanted to protect you.

Nobody did that for you. Nobody had ever said they would protect you, because they always expected you to handle it yourself. They knew what you were capable of; they knew you were lethal.

Nobody ever thought you would need someone else to do your bidding for you.

His large hand moved to the back of your head, his thick fingers gently stroking through your hair as he spoke, his voice dropping into a raspy whisper. “Darling, are you crying because of me?” He swallowed hard, his voice cracking again. “Do you truly think I mean to harm you? Do you think so little of me?”

You sobbed, your fingers clutching desperately onto the fabric of his shirt, burying your face into his chest.

“I’m begging you, do not cry,” he gulped, his own chest heaving as he held you tighter. “It... it hurts me.”

“I had been nothing but a laboratory experiment to them,” you finally choked out, the confession tearing out of your throat.

Thor froze instantly, his entire muscular body stiffening beneath your touch.

Slowly, you tilted your head up, your chin resting against his chest. Your lashes were damp with heavy tears that still kept falling silently down your cheeks. Thor’s hand gently cupped your face, his thumb catching the moisture, his eyes entirely locked onto yours as he listened with a quiet focus.

“They didn’t see a young woman,” you whispered, your throat tightening painfully as your grip on his shirt tightened. “They only saw a lab rat. A nameless object to be broken, tested, and rebuilt. I remember the cold steel of the table. I remember begging and begging... crying until my eyes bled, but they just kept on going.”

Thor’s blue eyes darkened into a midnight so black it looked like a brewing storm. A terrifying rage formed deep within him—a rage so massive and destructive that he felt he could destroy all of humanity just to see the lingering pain disappear from your eyes.

“Who are they?” He demanded, and your eyes closed in despair.

Should you tell him? Should you let him be a part of the darkest corners of your past?

Should you trust him?

“Darling, please tell me,” he begged, his voice trembling with a restrained fury as he looked down at you. “Who did this to you?”

Your throat tightened, your pulse fluttering at his gentle words and protective tone. You sighed opening your eyes, “They were a faction I later discovered to be the vile, lingering remnants of Hydra.”

Thor saw pure red. His throat tightened to the point of suffocation at the horrific image of you at the mercy of those monsters—being tortured, crying, entirely helpless.

“I need names,” he growled softly, the air in the room turning heavy with static.

“I don’t have names—”

“I will find names.”

“I don't know if you can, Thor, it was years—”

“I will,” he cut you off, his tone leaving absolutely no room for argument. He brought his other hand to your cheek, tilting your face up just a fraction. “Keep going, honey.” His voice was incredibly gentle for you, even as the undercurrent of his rage thrummed through his veins. He could barely bear to listen to the atrocities you had survived, but he had to. You were finally opening up to him, and he would listen to you until the end of time.

You gulped, trying to steady your breathing. “At the time, they were desperate, trying to replicate the lost Super Soldier serum using volatile cosmic energy signatures they barely understood.” You let out another shaky sob, and Thor immediately rubbed your back in slow, soothing circles, offering you every ounce of comfort his massive frame could provide. “More needles inserted into my skin... more radiation pumped into my veins, all for the sake of a twisted immortality.”

You held him tighter, closing your eyes against the memories. “And once they realized what they had created, they turned me into a ghost. An assassin. They forced me—forced me to do horrific, bloody things, Thor. I hurt so many people.” You opened your eyes, looking up at him with an unbearable vulnerability. “I did horrible, horrible things.”

The tears came faster now, the weight of your past crushing you as you sobbed uncontrollably against him. “I never wanted to do any of those things... they made me, I swear they made me, and they hurt me to make me do it—”

“Shh, sweetheart,” Thor interrupted softly, his voice thick with emotion as he clutched you even tighter against his heart, burying his face into your hair, his nose nudging your scalp as he did so. “None of this is your fault. Look at me.” He pulled back just enough to cup your face with both of his massive hands, gently forcing you to look up into his striking blue eyes. “None of it is your fault.”

“I am the one who did all of it—” Your voice cut off as another wave of tears streamed down your cheeks. It was like a dam had permanently broken in your chest, and there was absolutely no stopping it now. You were crying for the stolen years, crying for the innocent lives your hands had been forced to take, crying because you felt completely stripped bare and vulnerable—but most of all, you were crying because you loved him.

“I told you it is not your fault, sweetheart,” he said, his tone turning fiercely stern, leaving no room for you to argue with him. “You were kidnapped. Tortured.” He gulped like it was a great pain to say these words, “Your whole life was altered by monsters. You were made to do all of it.” His own voice grew heavy with sadness as he looked at your tears. “You did nothing wrong. You were just trying to survive, honey.”

“I’m so glad Steve and Tony saved me,” you whispered, your throat burning. “I... I don’t know what I’d do if it wasn't for them.”

At the mention of their names, Thor felt his chest tighten with a sharp, unexpected pang. Who else on the team knew the full extent of this? Steve and Tony, definitely. Natasha? You two were close; you would have told her. Bucky? Bruce? Clint? Was he truly the only person who had been left completely in the dark?

And to think he had called you gloomy.

A heavy cloak of regret settled over his shoulders. It was all true—everything he had confessed to Alejandro and Valentin at the table. He had thought you were the most breathtakingly beautiful woman he had ever seen the moment you walked into the compound years ago. But he had fucked it all up by opening his mouth and saying you looked gloomy. Would the two of you be any different right now if he hadn't used that stupid word?

“I am sorry,” he mumbled, the unexpected words catching your attention through the haze of your crying. He looked down at you, his eyes pained. “So fucking sorry I called you gloomy. Truly sorry. Can you—” He gulped hard, his chest heaving. “Can you forgive me?”

“I...” You trailed off, staring up at him in utter disbelief. Where the hell was this coming from? The walls around your heart instantly tried to slam back up. “Do you pity me now? Is that it?” you asked, your tone shifting into something sharp and defensive.

Thor’s eyes widened in immediate panic. “No—not pity. Towards you at least, never. I pity myself.”

“What does that even mean—”

“I meant every single word I said back there at the table,” he said softly, his thumbs tenderly grazing your cheeks to wipe away the fresh tears.

Your heart gave a violent flutter against your ribs, but it felt entirely too good to be true. You couldn't let yourself fall for a beautiful lie. “Do not mock me, Thor—”

“I would never.”

Your eyebrows went straight up, your expression clearly stating the obvious. He loved mocking you. He made it his absolute daily mission to get under your skin and irritate you to death.

Thor scrunched his face up at your look, a soft, self-deprecating sigh escaping his lips. “On this matter, I mean. I would never, ever mock you on a matter such as this, Little Flame.”

You scoffed, quickly averting your eyes from the intensity of his gaze. “Now you're just being cruel, big guy—“you tried to pry yourself off him, but one of his hands holding your face descended to your waist and circled it tightly.

“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met in my thousands of years alive.”

Your eyes widened with shock as they snapped back to meet his. Your heart dropped straight to your stomach with a violent jolt of excitement—of pure happiness.

“I am?” you whispered, the words coming out small and fragile, like a secret you were almost too afraid to speak aloud. It felt entirely unbelievable.

“You are,” he said, nodding firmly as he looked down at you.

There was something profoundly pure swirling in his deep blue eyes. It was a look you dared not name, because if you did, the only thing you could possibly call it would be adoration. He looked at you as if he completely and utterly adored you.

As you stared up at him, it hit you: that look was familiar.

He had always looked at you this way. Back at the compound, during your worst arguments, across the briefing table—his pupils would blow wide, a hidden mirth would dance behind his eyes, mixed with this exact same heavy, unyielding intensity. All these years, you had defensively rewritten that look as dislike, as a god looking down on an annoying mortal. Has he always looked at you with adoration in his eyes? Or were you just desperately lying to yourself now because your own walls were crumbling?

Either way, your breath was completely knocked out of you. Panic, cold and sharp, flooded your veins. You had to get away from him. You had to protect your heart, your soul, whatever was left of your sanity. You had already bared your darkest, most painful secret to him—the one thing you had specifically kept hidden from him out of fear—and you were terrified of what else you might reveal the longer you spent wrapped up in his arms.

“I—“You panicked even more as his gaze softened with that heartbreakingly tender look. You planted your palms against his chest and pushed. “I think it would be better if you let go of me now.” Thor’s expression changed, the vulnerability vanished, his eyes darkening to a stormy, dangerous hue. He had just laid his soul bare, admitting he found you more beautiful than anything in the cosmos, and now you were demanding he let you go?

“No,” he rumbled, his grip on your waist tightening rather than loosening. “Why would I do that?”

“Because I want you to—I need you to—“

“Why would you need me to do that?” he demanded, his voice dropping dangerously. “Are you that disgusted by me?”

Before you could even process the question, his expression shifted again. The anger twisted into something entirely unhinged as the green-eyed monster clawed ruthlessly at his insides, blinding him with an irrational fury.

“So you will gladly get close to that bastard at the bar, let his filthy hands touch your skin, but you cannot bear to have me hold you?”

Your mouth parted as you looked at him with pure, unyielding disbelief. “What on earth are you on about? Why do you keep talking about him like I'm actually into him—“

“Are you?” he fiercely cut you off.

He leaned down further, his eyes agressively scanning every inch of your face, his hot breath fanning across your lips. It made your breath hitch painfully in your throat. His completely irrational, wild behavior was forcing you to consider a reality you shouldn't. Something you would have never dared to think of just moments ago. Was he jealous?

Was he actually fucking jealous?

A dangerous spark of defiance flared up inside your chest. “What if I am?” you pushed, tilting your chin up to challenge him. “You cannot be,” he said, a flash of pure, territorial anger burning hot behind his eyes. “I will not let you. You are—you—“ He stammered, his usual booming eloquence completely deserting him as his gaze furiously swept over your face, desperately trying to decipher if you actually harbored any feelings for that fucker.

You smiled daringly up at him. You knew you probably looked absolutely wicked right now, with your smudged mascara, your flushed cheeks, and that fierce, determined look in your eyes.

“Are you jealous, big guy?” you whispered.

Your hands, which had been resting on his chest, began trailing upwards to his neck seductively. You didn't even have control over your own body anymore; it was like some primal instinct had taken over and you had to do this. You had to break him. You had to get him to confess. You felt entirely insane—just seconds ago, you were panicking and trying to push him away, and now you were mindlessly feeling him up, loving the power you had over him. Fuck.

Thor felt his heartbeat fasten against his ribs. His arm around your waist constricted, pulling you so close that there wasn't a single shred of air left between your bodies, his jaw locking hard in place. He knew exactly what you were doing. You were playing with fire on purpose. He made a ‘pfft’ sound, “I am not—“ he tried, desperately attempting to lie straight to your face.

“I think you are, honey,” you purred, leaning in until your breath fanned directly over his lips, your thumb lazily circling the heated skin at the nape of his neck. Even his neck was hot, for god's sake. It was thick and masculine. He was so masculine. His eyes immediately drifted down to your lips again, his resolve crumbling. “I am not. I simply... I wish to protect you because you are my teammate—“

“Oh, so I should just go back down to the bar and find him, then?” you pushed ruthlessly. You tilted your head, feigning complete innocence with your wide, tear-bright eyes.

He huffed, utterly furious at the mere suggestion. “Absolutely not. You are not leaving this damn room without me by your side.”

Your wicked smile widened. “Why not?” you purred, your face moving a fraction closer until your lips almost brushed his jaw. “I could touch him like this...” Your hands drifted down from his neck, sliding over the heavy planes of his chest down to his massive biceps, making his muscles instantly twitch under your fingertips. “I could kiss him like I did you, just minutes ago—“

Thor couldn't take it a single second longer.

His lips slanted over yours, ruthlessly cutting your sentence and your breath off. He pulled you even closer toward him, holding you like you were his absolute lifeline, pressing you so tight against his broad, muscular frame that it felt like your bodies were becoming one. You kissed him back passionately, completely losing yourself in the intoxicating heat of it. Your hands flew up to find his rough cheeks, and you pushed yourself up on your tiptoes, pressing your lips hungrily onto his.

He bit your lower lip with a sudden, needy sharpness, then stopped. He reluctantly moved his head away just a few inches, his breathing heavy and ragged as he whispered against your mouth, “You are not to kiss anyone but me.” His thumb came up, grazing over your throbbing lower lip. “Stop it, alright?” he whispered, then pecked your lips.

“Why—“

He pecked your lips again, roughly cutting you off, and then growled the confession right into your mouth: “Because I am fucking jealous, okay honey?”

He kissed you again, and you actually smirked straight into the kiss. The absolute victory of making a literal god admit defeat made your heart soar into the stratosphere. You pulled back though your lips were still grazing his, whispering wickedly against his mouth, “What was that?”

He pecked your lips again, desperate, heavy, and completely surrendered to you. “I have been burning with jealousy since I saw him lay his filthy eyes on you. I do not know what is wrong with me, but I—” He gulped hard, his large thumb slowly gliding over your flushed cheek. “I am consumed by it.”

A breathless, giddy giggle escaped your lips then. “Okay, big guy.”

He was jealous. The King of Asgard was completely, undeniably jealous, and he had just admitted it to you in the dark of your room. Oh god, you were losing your mind—and you never wanted to find it again.

But one question prodded at your mind before he made it all disappear with a fierce kiss, why was he jealous in the first place?

But you were not in your right mind. Because Thor wasn’t kissing you like a normal kiss. He was inhaling you, and it was already lighting you on fire.

The height difference was clearly bothering him as much as it was bothering you. Feeling the strain, Thor lowered himself just a bit before sliding his hands under your thighs, effortlessly lifting you completely off the floor, making your dress ride up. Your arms immediately circled around his thick neck—the very same neck you had been dying to strangle just hours ago—and you let out a soft moan directly into his mouth as his hands slipped up from your thighs to find your ass, squeezing your cheeks tightly as he pinned you securely against his massive frame. You moaned into his mouth, not being able to help it.

A hand left your ass and wrapped around your neck, while the other moved back to your waist to securely hold you, angling your face to kiss you as deeply as he wanted. His tongue pressed over yours as he walked himself backward into the bedroom. The kiss was heated, so full of passion you felt your insides burn with it. His kisses descended to your jaw, then to your neck as he hummed in deep appreciation. What were you doing kissing Thor, of all people? What were you doing letting Thor take you to bed, of all people?

But the thought couldn't even fully form as he bit down on your neck, making you whine in pain.

“Thor—” you begged, without knowing what it was you were begging for.

— “Yes?” he rumbled against your skin as he licked the sensitive spot on your neck, then he laid you over the mattress, settling his heavy body over you. He massaged your hips as he settled himself deeply between your legs. You spread them wide to accommodate him, and felt it poking hard against your thigh.

His cock, thick and hard, was somehow bigger than you had imagined—and you hadn’t been thinking small.

“Guess we don't have to fight over who gets the bed anymore,” you quipped, your voice breathless, trying to find a defense in your usual wit.

It made him chuckle, a low vibration against your chest. “I guess not,” he whispered, then took your lips again. This kiss was softer than before, slowly dismantling you as his lips glided over yours. Then he pressed his hips heavily against your core, making you whine out loud.

“Do you feel that?” He pulled your upper lip between his teeth, smiling slightly into the heat of your face. “It’s what you do to me. Ever since we landed here, I’ve be walking around so hard I was worried you’d see it. But no.” He kissed one corner of your mouth, then the other. “You’re oblivious, aren’t you, honey?”

He found you that attractive?

You hummed, tipping your head back in complete surrender. Thor groaned, dragging his lips over a throbbing pulse point, letting his tongue flick against the sensitive skin of your throat. “You like that too,” he grunted, his breath hot in your ear. “You like being the one person that gets me going, that makes me lose it. No one else, my Little Flame.”

He held your hips again and pushed your ass forward, locking you in place so your clit was pushed tightly against the thick hardness of him through the fabric. A long moan escaped your lips, and you dropped your face into his shoulder, completely undone.

Thor grunted, rutting forward, and it was so fucking hot you couldn't think past it. The deep drawl of his voice in your ear, the impossible strength of him around you—it was intoxicating. The clothing added a desperate, heavy extra friction, his fingers digging into your hips.

“Just you,” he thrusted forward against your core, squeezing your ass tightly with his other hand. “Only you, sweetheart. So beautiful and sassy, driving me insane—“

You whimpered as Thor made a low, ragged sound, taking a deep, shaky breath against your hair. His hand then slipped into your panties, his deft fingers dragging down to tease right against the already damp drip of your pussy. His fingers started circling your clit, a thick dampness forming immediately down there under his torturously perfect touch. “Please—” you cried out, your hips bucking up instinctively against his hand, begging for him to end this perfect torture.

“Please what, honey?i Thor rasped, his touch growing heavier, more demanding as he felt your walls slick and trembling for him. “Tell me exactly what you want me to do to you”

“I want you,” you gasped out as he inserted his middle finger inside you—and fuck, even his finger was incredibly large.

“Not enough, sweetheart,” he grumbled, pressing his thumb firmly down onto your clit, making you squirm and twitch helplessly in place beneath his weight.

“What do I have to say—“

“I said tell me exactly what you want, did I not?” he rumbled, suddenly moving his finger deep inside you, rhythmically fucking you with it. You whined loudly at the overwhelming friction, your hands locking onto his massive biceps and squeezing hard enough to leave marks. “I want you to—“ you gasped, your vision blurring. “I want you to fuck me... no, I need you to fuck me. Please.”

You were completely reduced to begging him. In response, his fingers slicked deeper as he added his ring finger into your heat, stretching you beautifully, but then he stopped abruptly.

There was simply too much extra fabric from your midi dress crumpled up in his way.

Your eyebrows furrowed, the sudden loss of momentum leaving you aching and confused. “What is it?”

He didn't respond with words. Instead, his large hands slid down to your lower back, his knuckles brushing your bare skin as his fingers found the zipper of your dress.

Your blood ran completely cold in an instant. Your whole body stiffened up beneath him, every single muscle locking tight.

Your scars.

Other people, other agents, had seen them on the battlefield or during training, and you had never felt bad about it. But this was Thor. You knew he had caught a fleeting glimpse of them at the pool earlier, but he hadn't truly seen all of them. He hadn't seen the worst of them. And this was not a public pool, was it? This was intimate. This was completely private. Which meant he would have all the time in the world to analyze them with his eyes, more time to realize how broken your body really was, more time to get disgusted by them—

The heavy weight of his hand cupped your jaw, covering it completely and instantly grounding you, cutting your spiraling thoughts short. “What is it?” he asked softly, his blue eyes searching yours in the dim light. “What's wrong, Little Flame?”

You gulped hard, helplessly averting your eyes from his intense stare. “I—I don't know about this...”

“Do you want to stop?” he asked immediately, completely freezing, his hand instantly lifting away from the zipper of your dress without hesitation.

“No!” you scrambled out desperately. Your eyes snapped back to find his, and you saw deep confusion in them.

How could he not be confused? You probably looked completely insane to him right now. First you were kissing him like there was no tomorrow, then you were begging him to take you, then you were voicing a doubt, but you were still fiercely refusing to stop. You were goddamn confusing.

You closed your eyes, a wave of shame washing over you. “It's just that I...” You swallowed hard. “I don't think I should remove my dress.”

His eyebrows furrowed deeply. “But I want to feel you. I do not understand,” he said, getting more perplexed by the second.

You huffed, unable to meet his eyes. “My scars... they are not pleasant to look at, Thor.”

“You do not know what is pleasant to my eyes or not,” he countered instantly, his deep voice carrying an unyielding certainty that took you completely aback.

“But—“

“I find you attractive. I find your scars attractive. I find every single part of you breathtakingly attractive,” he said, his tone dropping into a fierce vow as his hand found the track of your zipper once again. He didn't pull it, he just waited, asking for your trust. “Please let me see you, darling,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over yours, his warm breath intoxicating. “So that I can witness your beauty. So that I can show you exactly how much I love your scars, how much I love every part of you.”

Your eyes were wide, your heart beating so fast and hard against your ribs it felt painful. Should you actually let him?

This was Thor, for god's sake. He was never the nicest person to you—

But was he not?

A sudden rush of memories flooded your brain, completely reframing the last few years. He always looked out for you on dangerous missions, shielding your blind spots. Even though he irritated you daily, he always helped you carry heavy equipment crates—though not before he smugly made you cave in and admit you couldn't do it yourself, just like he did with your suitcases. He had caught you by the waist every single time you tripped. His eyes had always, always been tracked onto you in every room. And tonight, he had called you the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his thousands of years of life, before literally threatening to crush a man's skull for disrespecting you.

So no. He had never been rude to you. He had always been good to you. He annoyed you, sure, but he was so goddamn protective and sweet to you in his own annoying and loud way, and you had somehow just noticed it. How the hell did you just notice it?

Your chest was heaving heavily as you made your final decision, the remaining walls around your heart completely collapsing.

“Okay,” you whispered, nodding your head against the pillow.

Thor smiled then—a soft, blindingly beautiful smile that made him look younger, happier. His lips easily found yours again in a deep, reassuring kiss as his hand slowly, smoothly slid the zipper all the way down, gently removing the white dress from your body and leaving nothing between you but the heat of his skin.

You were now left in your white bra and panties, his gaze burning your skin as he looked all over you. His heart soared at the sight of you, but he felt a sharp pang of pain in his chest at the scars littering your skin. They were a lot more than he thought, but gods, they only made you more attractive to him. A strong woman, with the face of an angel and the body of a goddess—you were always meant to be his undoing.

His fingers grazed a thin line along your ribs as his mind echoed fiercely, She is beautiful, and I am going to make them pay for hurting her, all of them.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you squirmed, a faint trace of your old discomfort resurfacing.

Instead of drawing back, he leaned over your body, his face level with your stomach as his large hands gently grabbed your sides, anchoring you. And then, he lowered his head and kissed one of the most visible, ragged scars you had near your hip.

“You are beautiful. Truly a goddess... one fit for me,” he muttered against your skin, before kissing the mark again.

Your breath hitched, your head spinning into a daze. That specific scar was from the most lethal trauma you had ever endured. You had almost died that day; in fact, you had hoped to die that day just to escape. But your captives had found a way to keep you alive, using brutal, advanced procedures to permanently bind your altered biology together. Tears welled up in your eyes, your vision blurring for the second time that night. To see him kiss it like that—so tenderly, with so much reverence—made something warm and heavy fill your chest. It was like a fractured part of you was finally feeling whole again.

I love him, your mind screamed at you for the second time that day. Your right hand instinctively found his rough cheek, your fingers tangling in his beard as he kept kissing your scars. One left from needles being inserted into the exact same place dozens of times; one left from a failed escape attempt on a mission they sent you on, a punishment for not obeying... He was kissing every single one of them.

And while his lips hovered over the worst one near your hip again, you finally whispered, “I almost died when I got that one.”

His head immediately whipped up, his heart tightening painfully in his chest at your words. “What?” he asked, his throat closing in, his blue eyes blazing with an intense, dark focus.

“They used a plasma blade to slice me open during a combat stress-test,” you whispered, the memory making your voice shake. “They wanted to see how fast the cosmic energy in my blood would knit the flesh back together while I was conscious. I begged them to just let me bleed out.”

Thor’s hold on your sides violently tightened, his knuckles turning white and his jaw locking so hard a muscle strove in his cheek. “I am going to make them pay, Little Flame." he said his voice determined, "I am going to avenge you. They are going to feel the wrath of the God of Thunder, be sure of that. No one, and I mean no one, gets away with hurting you.”

He turned his head toward the hand holding his cheek, shifting slightly to press a deep, lingering kiss against the inside of your wrist, right over your pulsing vein, like he wanted to be sure you were alive. Like he needed reassurance of your well being after your confession. He could not bear the thought of you in pain, but death? You on the brink of death? His poor heart could not take it. “I do not know what you did to me, sweetheart, but you—” he gulped, his eyes locked on yours, “you have a hold on me that no one else ever did. That no one else ever could.”

He leaned up, his chest heaving against yours. “I cannot help it. I cannot help but be jealous, I cannot help but be protective, possessive... I just can't help it. You have completely bewitched me.”

Your breathing fastened as your heart fluttered wildly in your chest at his words. What did he mean? How was he talking like this? He couldn't love you, you knew that—you were just deeply flawed partners on a mission—but a part of your soul soared at the fact that he harbored these intense, desperate urges for you. Even if it wasn't love, he felt for you with a terrifying depth.

When his large hands moved down to remove your white bra, you reached up and caught his wrists, tsking him with a breathless smirk. “Don't you think you're being a bit unfair, big guy? It's your turn.”

Your hands found his collar, pulling his heavy frame down to your lips. You kissed him deeply, pouring all your hidden, aching feelings into it, while your shaky fingers began working on the unbuttoning of his shirt. Your hands were trembling with excitement and the weight of your feelings for him. When you finally removed your lips from his, you let out a frustrated huff, looking down at the fabric because your frantic fingers couldn't unbutton them fast enough.

Thor just chuckled, a rumbling sound against your chest. He took matters into his own hands, gripping the shirt and casually pulling it over his head with one smooth motion, tossing it blindly across the room.

“Oh fuck... you honestly are a god,” you whispered, taking him in fully. His biceps were literally the size of your head, his pecs perfectly sculpted, his abs defined and casting shadows in the dim light—he was going to be the absolute death of you.

He chuckled again, clearly enjoying your completely awestruck expression, and immediately took it to his advantage. His large hand slid behind your back, and with a single, practiced flick of his fingers, he unclasped your bra in a second.

You gasped in bewilderment, snapping your eyes up to meet his. “You sly fox,” you said, a wicked smirk returning to your lips.

He just held your bra up for a brief second like a captured banner of war, a triumphant smile lighting up his handsome face, before he tossed it away. Turning all of his massive, heavy attention back to you, his mouth immediately latched onto your right breast, his tongue swirling hot against your skin while his large hand slid down past your stomach to find your crotch.

“Ohmygod,” you gasped out in one breath.

His fingers hooked into the edge of your panties, sliding them down your hips before giving a firm, playful slap against your inner thigh. “Get your legs up for me, honey, so I can get these off,” he grunted against your skin. You quickly complied, lifting your hips and helping him slide the remaining lace down your legs until you were completely bared for him.

He let go of your nipple for a second, his large hands sliding down to grip your thighs with an iron hold, settling himself deeply between them again. He spread them wide open, his gaze dropping down to your glistening center. His tongue darted out in anticipation, his eyes dark with an intense, heavy hunger.

“You look so sweet, honey. Bet you taste as sweet as you look, don't you?” he murmured to himself, his deep baritone sending a thrill straight down your spine as he kept his gaze locked between your legs.

You whined in agonizing anticipation, your hips twitching on the mattress. “Do something—oh!”

You were cut off as his thumb pressed hard against your clit, slowly dragging all the way down your slick slit, catching your juices on his skin. He lifted his hand, looking down at his wet thumb before putting it directly between his lips, sucking the moisture off as he closed his eyes.

“Oh, yes you do taste sweet. Better than I ever imagined,” he rumbled, his voice rough. He leaned down and gave your pussy a light, playful slap, the stinging heat making you whine out loud.

“Thooor—”

He hovered back over your body, his mouth immediately returning to suckle hungrily on your right nipple. At the same time, his hand slid back between your thighs, inserting his middle finger deep inside you, quickly followed by his ring finger. His thumb began circling your clit in rhythmic patterns. Your mouth fell agape, your head tossing from side to side as you moaned and moaned, your body beautifully stretched by his incredibly large fingers.

Your hands locked onto his broad shoulders, squeezing tight, the slick friction of his touch rapidly driving you toward the edge, pulling you closer to that blissful, impending high.

“'M close,” you murmured, your eyes completely dazed. You pulled his head closer, biting down on the thick skin of his neck and suckling fiercely, making the god let out a deep, gravelly groan of pleasure.

“You’re driving me insane,” he growled against your skin, his fingers moving faster, driving deep inside your tight heat. “Come on, pretty girl, make a mess on my fingers.”

The pressure kept building and building in your lower stomach until it was entirely unbearable. “I—” you gasped, your toes curling into the sheets. “I’m gonna—”

“Come on, let it go, baby,” he commanded darkly.

And then you snapped. You came hard, whining and moaning loudly as wave after wave of intense pleasure rippled through your core, your walls clamping down violently around his fingers. Thor grunted, keeping his fingers moving through your contractions, forcing every last drop of pleasure out of you until you were breathlessly begging him to stop.

Before you could even catch your breath, Thor shifted. He reached down to his waist, lowering his trousers and boxers in a single, aggressive movement. Because he was already on his knees, the fabric simply bunched up around his knees, freeing his lower half.

Your eyes widened in absolute awe at the sight. He was big. Just as you had thought, but seeing him fully bare made him look even bigger. “Oh god,” you whispered.

Thor gave his length a slow, heavy pump of his hand, precum glistening at the tip as he smeared the moisture down his thick shaft. He looked down at you, his chest heaving.

“Do we need protection? Because I don't have any—” he asked, his voice thick with restraint. “No, we don't,” you said eagerly, you were on the pill.

Pushing yourself up onto your elbows, you looked his naked torso and heavy length over with a predatory hunger. “You’re so fucking handsome it’s annoying, do you know that?” you said, biting your lower lip.

He chuckled, a smug, low sound as he settled his weight back in between your open legs. “Why, thank you, Little Flame—”

Your hand shot out, planting firmly against his massive shoulder. “Can I ride you?” Thor stopped dead in his tracks, his chest heaving, his pupils blown wide. “What?”

“Can I ride you?” you asked again, your voice completely determined.

Taking full advantage of his momentary shock, you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist, using your core to pull him down as you deftly flipped your positions. Within a second, you were sitting squarely on top of his hard stomach. His defined abs twitched beneath you, the movement grazing directly against your freshly sensitive clit, making you take a sharp breath.

“You wanna do all the work, honey?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowing as a lazy, amused smirk tugged at his lips.

“Mhm,” you hummed, your eyes dazed and hooded as you looked down at his towering chest. He chuckled, his large hands rising to rest loosely on your hips. “Are you sure? You are well aware I possess the stamina of a god.”

You rolled your eyes at his typical Asgardian arrogance. “I am aware. Can you just stop talking and—”

“Are you getting on, or not?” he interrupted, his smirk widening as he tilted his hips up just a fraction, the warm tip of his cock brushing against your entrance.

For a split second, the temptation to be difficult returned. “I am definitely reconsidering it now,” you pouted, crossing your arms over your bare chest and throwing him a defiant look.

But Thor just snorted, rolling his eyes at your stubbornness. Before you could even blink, his hands gripped your hips with terrifying strength and he lifted you up. You didn't even get a second to think before he downwardly forced your hips straight onto his thick dick, burying himself inside you all the way to the hilt.

The air was knocked completely from your lungs. Thor was so deep in you it was pushing all the thoughts out of your brain. You gaped down at him, making weak, breathless noises as your pussy pulsed and stretched beautifully around his thickness. His fingers dug deeply into your hips, the only sign that he was struggling to hold himself back from taking over completely.

“Much as I enjoy you trying to take control,” he muttered, his large hands sliding down to massage your ass with a heavy, grounding pressure, “I'd rather keep you full of me so you stop thinking.”

He reached up slowly, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You bit your bottom lip, whining at the unbearable fullness, and he chuckled, settling his upper body fully into the pillows. Your hands found his chest, your fingers grabbing firmly onto his broad pectorals for balance. “Ride it, baby,” he ordered, his voice a low, gravelly command.

And god help you, you tried. You caught your breath after a long moment that felt like an eternity and started to roll your hips. Thor groaned, his heavy eyelids fluttering as your tight heat dragged over his length, but he deliberately didn't help you yet. His hands remained firm on your body, forcing you to use every ounce of your strength to grind down onto his dick.

Your movements accidentally pushed him right against that sensitive, gooey spot inside of you, and you faltered with a long, broken moan. You shifted, forcing his thick head right against it again, and he let out a sharp breath, though he still didn't take the reins. “Uhh—” you whined, your head spinning.

“Feels good, does it not?” he cooed, his cock throbbing heavily inside you. “Nice and big, filling up your pussy so good.”

You moaned, your hips bucking instinctively. Thor grunted, thrusting up just slightly to meet you, and you tipped your head back as a shiver ran down your spine. The friction was incredible. For a second, back arched and thighs aching, you actually managed to find a rhythm. It started slow, rolling and pushing Thor’s cock right where you wanted it.

You looked down at him, sweaty and utterly adoring beneath you. His hands wandered over your skin, his breathing ragged and his lips parted as he watched you take him.

“That's a good girl,” he muttered, his blue eyes blown wide. “There you go, My Star.” He continued, “My beautiful fucking Star, so good for me are you not?”

You keened at the praise, your pace moving faster. Your knees were growing weak from the exertion, but the desperate need inside you was so much stronger. You bounced on Thor’s dick, grabbing at his chest and gasping for air as his sheer size split you open over and over again.

Looking down at his bare chest, his defined pecs looked absolutely delicious in the dim light. You had to take a bite, didn't you? Lowering your upper body flat against his chest, you leaned down and bit down on his left breast, hard. Thor groaned loudly, his abs flexing hard beneath you. “What are you—” he gasped.

You didn't answer, simply licking over the damp mark you had just left before kissing over it mindlessly. Pushing yourself back up, your hands found their place on his heaving chest again, meeting his eyes which were burning with an unhinged desire.

But it wasn't enough. You didn't possess the extra stamina or strength of a god, and he was just too big. You were so overwhelmed by pleasure that your body was starting to forget how to move properly. Every wet, obscene sound echoing in the room made you glance down at where he was disappearing inside of you—the way your slick was heavily coating his cock when you pulled up, and the heavy weight of his balls slapping against your ass every time you dropped back down.

You only got hornier, wanting nothing more than to just let go and allow your eyes to cross and toes to curl, but you couldn't find the pace to get over the edge. You couldn't cum. The frustration built up until pathetic, fat tears started streaming down your cheeks.

”Aw, baby, why are you crying?” Thor murmured, his voice laced with a gentle mockery. Fully aware of the fact that you couldn't reach the finish line by yourself, he reached up, brushing your tears away with his thumb while a tiny, knowing smirk played on his lips.

You let out a frustrated sob, shaking violently above him as your legs finally grew too weak to sustain the weight. You collapsed forward, just squirming uselessly against his lap now, blinking through wet lashes at his teasing, lazy smile. “You can't get there all alone, can you?” he purred, gripping your waist tightly and slamming his hips up into you.

You made a choked, high-pitched sound as the sudden force rattled your entire frame. “That's right, pretty girl. Just a total mess on my cock."

“Ple—please—“ you blubbered, completely spent, your upper body collapsing weakly over Thor’s broad chest. “God, Thor—please—“

“Aw. Begging so pretty.” He leaned up and pressed a tender, lingering kiss to your wet forehead. “How could I ever say no to you, huh?”

Without another word, Thor gripped your hips and effortlessly lifted you off his cock, twisting you onto your back as he sat up. You were shoved down into the mattress, your head pressed deeply into the cushions. His massive hands locked onto your hips, dragging you down the bed toward him, completely manhandling you. His right hand moved to the inside of your left thigh, pushing it wide open to expose your dripping core to the cool air of the room.

“Such a mess,” Thor rumbled, his eyes dark as he ran the thick head of his cock between the lips of your pussy, letting it press heavily against your swollen clit before lining it right back up at your entrance.

He slid in slowly, filling you back up until your eyes rolled back in your head. Bringing his upper body over yours, his left hand found your right leg, pushing it all the way up to your chest. He was impossibly deeper at this angle, stretching you to your absolute limits.

You tried to press your hand over your mouth to muffle your pathetic, undone sounds, but Thor tutted softly. With his left hand, he firmly wrapped his fingers around your wrist and pulled your hand away, pinning it to the mattress. He bottomed out completely, a deep groan ripping from his chest as he bit your earlobe.

His hand found its way to your thigh and kept your legs pinned high next to your breasts as he began to move, his brutal, unyielding pace making you instantly see stars. Every heavy thrust sent a shockwave through your body, your hips bouncing uncontrollably against the mattress.

Thor moved his head back just a little, looking down at where your bodies joined, and grunted in deep, possessive approval. He caught your jaw in his hand, his fingers anchoring you as he fucked you hard. “Want to see how good we fit, pretty girl?”

You couldn't even catch a goddamn breath, but you nodded frantically. He let go of your chin, sliding his hand to the back of your head and gently forcing you to look down at your own lap.

It was sinful. So fucking sinful. A white, creamy ring was forming around his shaft as he ruthlessly fucked into you, and he was so goddamn right—you fit together like perfect puzzle pieces. With every single downward stroke, his heavy pelvis hit directly against your engorged, sensitive clit.

You moaned loudly, your eyebrows knitting together in pure pleasure as the visual pushed you right over the edge unexpectedly. You screamed his name as he let go of your head, his thumb brushing over your trembling lips. He didn't stop, keeping up the relentless, pounding pace, grunting your name over and over against your neck.

“Came after just a few seconds of me fucking you?” he mocked breathlessly, but he was in no better shape than you were. He looked completely disheveled, his hair wild, his jaw locked in a tight line of restraint.

He pushed his damp thumb directly into your mouth, and you blindly suckled on it, wrapping your tongue around his skin.

“Fuck,” he grunted, his blue eyes blowing wide as he finally lost his grip on his godly stamina. His hips gave one last, deep, trembling shove, pinning you flat to the bed as he came, throwing thick, hot ropes of cum deep inside you, filling you to the absolute brim. —

“Are you okay?” he whispered, his lips brushing tenderly against your knuckles.

You were having a near-impossible time keeping your eyes open, the aftershocks of the last hour leaving your limbs feeling like heavy lead, but you managed to nod lazily and offer him a soft, sleepy smile.

Thor took your hand, bringing it up to rest against his bare chest. You frowned, your brow furrowing in confusion. “What’re you doin’?” you mumbled, your exhaustion making your words barely intelligible, slurring together into a sleepy hum.

“Have to take care of you, baby,” he said, his voice so gentle it made your heart ache. He didn't wait for an answer, simply scooping you up into his arms, bridal style. Your arms instinctively circled around his thick neck, and you rested your heavy head against his shoulder as he carried you into the bathroom.

After he helped you clean up with a patience that was entirely uncharacteristic of the man you’d known for years, he carried you back to the bed. He kissed your forehead with lingering reverence as he laid you down, then slid under the covers next to you, pulling you into his embrace until your head was pillowed firmly against his chest.

His heart was beating like a war drum against your ear, his large fingers trembling slightly as he pulled the thin, cool sheets up to tuck you in. He stared at the ceiling, lost in the terrifying shift in his own reality.

Why was he feeling like this? What had happened to the cold, arrogant dynamic you two had shared for so long? The question burned in his mind, sharp and insistent: Did you feel the same?

Unable to hold the mounting anxiety back, he mumbled, “Do you hate me?”

The question came out before he could stop it, brittle and desperate. You stiffened slightly against him, your eyes fluttering open for a brief moment. “I never hated you.”

He hummed, a low vibration in his chest. “Hm.” He shifted, his hand moving to smooth a lock of hair away from your face. “Let me phrase it like this then... do you dislike me still?”

You smiled a little bit, your face scrunching up as you looked up at him hazily, your consciousness drifting further away. You were too exhausted to put up your usual defenses, and you told him half the truth.

“Not so much.”

You leaned forward and kissed his chest without thinking, the action small and intimate, before laying your head back down. His fastened heartbeat drummed in your ears, a frantic, steady rhythm that matched your own.

Thor felt his heart give out as he finally understood what he was feeling.

He was in love with you.

He had been for years, and he was absolutely, completely doomed.

—

You woke up, breathing in deeply as you opened your eyes and stretched your arms. Your eyes widened instantly as the vivid rush of last night’s endeavors hit you.

You slept with Thor.

You quickly looked next to you, your heart ready to leap with hopeful excitement, only to see a completely empty bed. Your heart dropped straight to your stomach. A cold, suffocating weight pressed down on your chest.

Where was he? Did he regret it that much? Did he wake up, realized what he had done with someone as broken as you, and left you all alone the first thing in the morning?

Your hands and feet went completely ice-cold. Your eyes tore up, your nose burning and your throat tightening painfully with incoming tears. Regret. It was the only word screaming in your mind.

You scrambled to your feet, desperately trying to swallow down the sob threatening to break out. Moving on pure autopilot, you quickly started getting ready for breakfast, needing a mask to hide behind. Your hands shook violently as you removed the mascara stains from your cheeks and quickly applied your sunscreen. You pulled on a black strapless summer dress with vibrant pink flowers—it hugged your torso tightly before flaring out beautifully from the waist down. You placed a long-brimmed black summer hat over your hair and slid into black kitten heels. Taking a shaky, shallow breath, you made your way down to the resort’s breakfast area.

The moment you stepped into the restaurant, your blood ran cold. You did not like what you were witnessing. At all.

Thor was there, standing by the open buffet, but he wasn’t alone. There she was—the receptionist girl who had been entirely too into your so-called husband since you arrived. Her hand was resting boldly on his right bicep while he looked down at her, his head turned toward her as he smiled lightly. She was actively flirting with him, and he wasn’t pulling back. Not even after everything he had whispered to you last night. What the hell was a receptionist doing there in the first place?

A dangerous rage built inside you, jealousy brewing hot and toxic, completely melting your insides. You couldn’t help it. Even if Thor didn't want you anymore, even if last night meant nothing to him, nobody was allowed to touch him like that as long as he was playing your husband.

You made your way toward them in fast, sharp strides, the click of your kitten heels masked by the ambient chatter. You stopped directly behind the girl, your index finger tapping her shoulder with an icy firmness.

She quickly turned around, a bright, rehearsed smile on her face, but that smile instantly died the second she registered who was standing there. She was much shorter than you; from beneath the brim of your hat, you were looking down at her with pure, unyielding disdain. A wicked, lethal smile played on your lips—a look that silently screamed, 'You are going to die in ten seconds, and not even the God of Thunder can save you from your demise.'

“My love, you’re awake!” Thor boomed, his face lit up with an instant, radiant brightness the very millisecond his eyes landed on you. You flicked your gaze to him, your chest tight. What a spectacular actor, you thought bitterly.

You looked straight back at the girl. Thor’s eyebrows quickly knitted together as he registered the tension radiating from your posture. “I was just on my way to bring you breakfast—”

“Were you now?” you cut him off, your voice dangerously low, though your eyes never left the receptionist. She was already squirming and trembling under your icy glare.

“I was just—” she stammered, backing up half a step. “You were just leaving,” you cut her off ruthlessly. Then, completely unable to hold yourself back through the blinding haze of your jealousy, you coldly added, “My husband does not have a taste for servants, you know?”

Thor’s eyes widened in sheer shock. You had done the exact one thing you had warned him not to do—you had ignored manners and called her a servant.

The girl nodded frantically, her eyes wide with fear, and immediately scrambled away from Thor, nearly tripping over her own feet to escape you.

The moment she was gone, you turned away from him without giving him a second look. “Baby—” Thor started, his hand reaching out.

“Do not baby me,” you snapped, turning your head back sharply, your eyes flashing with a profound, unyielding coldness that made him freeze.

Thor’s heart dropped straight to his stomach. The sudden, icy wall you had thrown up slapper him in the face so hard he felt your finger prints on his cheek. Did you regret it? Was that what this was? Did you wake up wishing last night had never happened?

“What is going on?” he asked, his voice losing its booming confidence, an edge of panic bleeding through.

You scoffed loudly, completely ignoring his question as you moved toward the stack of plates to grab your own food. You weren't going to stand there and look pathetic. Thor quickly followed on your heels, his massive frame completely blocking out the rest of the crowded restaurant as you aggressively snatched a ceramic plate from the stack. The weight of it felt solid in your shaking fingers—a grounding contrast to the chaos roaring inside your head. He didn't care that there were other guests around; his focus was entirely locked onto you.

“Talk to me, please,” he begged again, his deep voice dropping into a whispered, desperate pitch that only you could hear. “What did I do? Why are you looking at me like that?”

You moved down the line of the open buffet, your eyes fixed forward, your jaw locked tight under the long brim of your black summer hat. You didn't even see the food.

“I look at you exactly how I should look at a partner who fails to maintain the perimeter of our cover,” you whispered coldly, your tone clipped and professional—the ultimate shield to protect your bleeding heart. “We are supposed to be happily married, Thor. Yet I walk into the dining room and find you letting the resort staff treat your bicep like a resting post. It’s sloppy. It risks the mission.”

“The mission?” Thor repeated, and you heard the sharp, pained intake of his breath. He stepped in front of you, completely cutting off your path to the pastry section, forcing you to stop. When you tried to look past him, he leaned down into your line of sight, his blue eyes wide and panicked. “You think I care about the cover right now? Honey, look at me.”

The nickname was a mocking echo of the tenderness from last night. Your eyes snapped up to his, flashing with a dangerous, icy heat. “Do not call me that.”

He felt entirely hopeless, his blue eyes burning with a raw, suffocating pain the more you talked. “Last night—“

“Let's not bring up last night. Ever,” you said, sharply turning your head away from him. You were desperate to protect your heart, to pull the shields up before he could break you completely by saying how much he regretted it.

“What?” he asked, his voice entirely breathless. His lungs felt as though they were constricting in on themselves, a pain burning him from the inside out.

But you didn't answer., you just kept walking, your hands trembling so hard that the ceramic plate in your hands shaked in your grasp. You tried to swallow the thick lump of emotion stuck in your throat, but it wouldn't budge. You loved him, and he regretted you. That was the only reality your brain could process.

You had effectively carved his heart out of his chest and stepped on it with the sharp heel of your shoes, leaving his poor heart to bleed out on the cold floor while you kept thumping it with your foot over and over again. Thor’s head was thumping, his chest feeling completely hollow as he stood frozen, looking at your retreating back. To him, the message was loud and clear: you regretted everything you had given him, while he was deeply, hopelessly in love with you.

The rest of the breakfast passed by in a torturously. You didn't speak a single word to him, and he didn't dare speak to you, far too heartbroken to even think of where to begin mending the fracture. You both just sat there at the table in a heavy, complete silence. Thor spent the entire time staring down at his large, empty hands, while you kept your eyes rigidly fixed on your plate.

After breakfast, you returned to the villa to change for the pool, pulling on a black bikini and a sheer black beach dress. You kept the long-brimmed hat firmly on your head, using it as a barrier to keep yourself from looking at him, and to keep him from looking at you to see your pained expression.

Once down at the resort pool, you settled onto your sunbed for a second before immediately scrambling away to the water, needing to escape his suffocating proximity. Your body tensed up at the first splash, but slowly relaxed as your skin got used to the cold.

It's okay, your mind echoed in a desperate chant, trying to soothe your aching heart. You already got the codes. You can get this entire mission over with tonight, and then you won't ever have to sleep in the same room with him again.

From his sunbed, Thor was watching you like a hawk. He lay there with his massive arms crossed behind his head, his jaw locked so tight the muscles in his cheek flexed repeatedly. His hands were formed into rigid fists, the static electricity in his veins making the air around his chair turn faintly heavy.

Then, the tense silence was abruptly interrupted by a woman's voice coming from next to him. “Hello there, handsome.” She was sitting on a sunbed just one row away, looking to be in her late forties with short, styled blonde hair and a sly, predatory smirk on her face.

Thor didn't even turn his torso. He just spared a brief, icy sideway glance at her before immediately snapping his eyes back to the water, tracking your swimming. “Why are you all alone?” she purred, leaning forward to get his attention. “Your spouse left you to fend for yourself like mine did?” Thor finally turned his head fully away from the pool for a brief second. “I am completely fine. Thank you for your concerns, lady,” he grumbled clearly irritated, his baritone rough and entirely uninviting.

He dismissed her instantly, turning back to look toward the deep end of the pool—only to find you staring straight back at him with a lethal, blinding fire burning hot in your eyes.

He gulped, his breath taken away.

—

After your day in the pool ended and you were back in your villa, the silence between you had grown so heavier. You finally broke it, “I am going to secure the tech tonight.” Thor's back visibly stiffened at the sound of your voice. He turned to face you slowly, his blue eyes guarded. “What do you need me to do?” he asked, his voice rough and gravelly.

You gulped, forcing your professional mask back into place. “Distract Alejandro in the VIP section while I slip away. I'll pretend to go to the bathroom, access the private vault down the hall, and once I have the drive, I'll signal you through the comms so we can leave.” He nodded briefly, his jaw flexing. “Okay,” he whispered.

The process of getting ready was done in a tense, rhythmic quiet. Thor threw on a black linen shirt and charcoal linen pants, looking effortlessly devastating. You opted for a flowy, lightweight black dress that gave you maximum mobility, pairing it with flat, elegant leather sandals—you needed to be comfortable and silent on your feet tonight.

You headed down to dinner, the atmosphere of the resort's high-end restaurant buzzing around you while you sat like ghosts. You tried to eat whatever your stomach would allow, but you had absolutely no appetite after the events of the day. Every time your eyes accidentally met his, you both looked away, shielding your wounds. Once dinner was cleared, it was time. You made your way toward the exclusive VIP lounge, immediately spotting Alejandro lounging in a velvet booth surrounded by bodyguards. You and Thor exchanged a quick, imperceptible glance, checked the small clicks of your earpieces, and nodded.

Alejandro boomed with laughter the moment he saw you approach. “My friends! Welcome, welcome!” he cried, throwing his arms wide open in his usual boisterous display.

You both forced tight, practiced smiles onto your faces. Thor stepped forward, giving the man a brief, friendly hug before turning toward the booth to sit down. Before you could even slide onto the leather cushion next to him, Thor’s large hand securely gripped your waist. Your heart instantly went completely haywire as he effortlessly lifted you and pulled you right down onto his lap.

You two had been distant all day. He had to hold you. He needed to make amends, to feel the heat of your skin against his, even if it was just under the guise of the mission. At least, that was the only excuse his desperate mind could construct if you angrly yelled at him about it later.

You smiled tightly for Alejandro's benefit, but your fingers dug with an icy, warning firmness into the back of Thor's thick neck—a silent, furious message for him to let go. But Thor didn't care. He didn't care about the silent threat as long as he got to hold you in his arms for just a second longer before this mission ended and you went back to the compound to avoid him forever. He simply tightened his grip, pulling you flush against his chest, and smiled widely at Alejandro.

Alejandro chuckled deeply at the display of affection. “Always passionate, I see.”

You turned a sickly sweet smile toward the arms dealer, leaning into the cover. “Always,” you cooed, before casually looking around the lounge. “Where is Valentin tonight?” You instantly felt Thor's fingers dig sharply into your waist, his grip turning possessive at the mention of the man he had been burning with jealousy over. Alejandro made a dismissive, ‘don't care’ gesture with his hand. “Ah, he claims he is sick. Staying in his villa tonight.”

“Oh, poor guy,” you purred, feigning deep sympathy. “I hope he gets better soon.” Thor’s fingers dug even deeper into your hip bone, a silent, growling protest that you had to actively ignore.

You endured another twenty minutes of Alejandro’s endless boasting, monitoring the guard rotation out of the corner of your eye. Finally, the hallway leading to the back offices cleared. You lightly tapped Thor’s broad shoulder, signaling him that it was time. "I need to go to the restroom, honey," you said loudly enough for the table to hear, sliding off his lap.

He didn't protest, maintaining his role, but his blue eyes burned holes straight through your frame as you walked away. The moment you turned the corner out of the lounge's line of sight, the sweet smile vanished from your face. Your heart rate spiked, breathing sharpening as you slipped into the dim, restricted corridor. Using the digital master key you had covertly cloned from the resort's mainframe, you bypassed the electronic lock on Alejandro's private office in three seconds flat. The door clicked open with a faint hiss. You slipped inside, closing it silently behind you.

The room was dark, illuminated only by the ambient glow of the resort's outdoor lights filtering through the blinds. You moved like a shadow across the plush carpet, heading straight for the ornate bookshelf on the far wall. Pressing the hidden release mechanism behind a heavy brass statue, the wall ground open to reveal a reinforced titanium safe. Your fingers flew across the keypad, inputting the encryption codes you had painfully secured earlier in the week. BEEP. The safe's heavy bolts retracted. You quickly dismanntled the failsafe and looked inside the safe.

There, resting on a velvet cushion, was a glowing, intricately carved container pulsing with a faint, dark energy—the stolen Dark Elf convergence technology. Beside it lay the encrypted flash drive containing the buyers' manifests. Your breath hitched. This was it. The culmination of hours of putting up with Thor, hours of hiding your heart, hours of surviving. You carefully wrapped the artifact in a specialized containment cloth to mask its energy signature, slipping it and the drive into the secure inner pocket of your dress.

You locked the safe, closed the hidden door, and stepped back out into the hallway, your heart hammering against your ribs. Pressing your finger to your earpiece, “Package secured. Perimeter clear. Let's mo—“ you were cut off as a heavy, sweating hand clamped brutally over your mouth from behind, and the cold steel of a gun barrel pressed hard into the side of your head. Fuck.

Back in the VIP lounge, Thor’s earpiece crackled with your voice. The sound instantly soothed his aching heart, but the relief didn't last long. You were cut off mid-word, your voice muffled into a sharp static gasp. His heart dropped straight to his stomach, cold dread instantly replacing his focus. What the fuck?

He smoothly stood up, cutting Alejandro off mid-sentence with a firm, booming laugh as he patted the man's shoulder, masking the terror roaring in his veins. "It has been an absolute pleasure, Alejandro, but my wife has been feeling quite fatigued from our travels. I must take her back to our quarters," Thor said, his tone leaving absolutely no room for argument. Before Alejandro could even protest, Thor was already walking away, his long strides carrying him down the corridor. “Little Flame? What is happening?” he whispered franticallyy into his comms, his hands trembling with a mix of fear and rising fury.

You didn't respond. The silence on the other end drove him to the edge. The second he stepped into the shadow of the back hallway, out of sight of the guests, he raised his hand. With a crackle, Stormbreaker materialized into his grip, the blue sparks already dancing along the heavy blade.

“So you were here to get to this, all along?” came Valentin's sharp, bitter voice from behind you. Thor's voice crackled instantly in your ear, low and lethal. “Is it him?” Bound by the hand over your mouth, you could only press a tight, affirmative hum into the microphone.

Valentin spoke again, his grip tightening. "The only reason why you were interested in me?" He sounded entirely wrecked, like he couldn't believe his own ego had been brokenby a spy. You gulped, trying to calculate your leverage. Sensing your shift, he cautiously removed his hand from your mouth to let you speak, keeping the gun digging into your temple. “Valentin, calm dow—“ CRACK. He ruthlessly smacked the heavy side of the gun against the side of your head. The force made your head snap to the side, a low, painful grunt ripping from your throat as your vision blurred for a split second. This motherfucker.

“Did he just fucking hit you?” came Thor's roaring voice through the comms, the nger in his tone vibrating so hard it rattled your earpiece. You quickly let out another hum, trying to mask it as a groan of lingering pain so that Valentin wouldn't realize you were on an active channel. “Are you still in the same spot?” Thor demanded, his footsteps shaking the building as he sprinted toward your coordinates. This fucker had absolutely no chance. He was dying tonight.

You hummed again in confirmation, which only served to irritate Valentin further. He grabbed your chin, turning your face toward him, forcing you to look into his wild, unhinged eyes. A crazy, desperate smile spread across his face. “I think you should give me a kiss before you go,” he whispered darkly. He closed his eyes, leaning his face directly into yours. Big mistake.

The second his eyes shut, your training took over. You threw your head back, violently slamming the crown of your skull against his nose. He staggered back with a curse, and you used the momentum to drive a sharp elbow directly into his ribs, successfully hitting the gun away from your head. You spun, sweeping your leg out to take his ankles, but Valentin was fueled by pure adrenaline; he managed to catch his balance, his face twisting in fury as he lunged forward. He slammed you back against the wall, his hand locking tightly around your neck, and pointed the gun straight at your head from the front, yelling directly into your face.

But before he could even pull the trigger—before he could do anything at all—the gun in his hand was struck by a massive, flying axe. Stormbreaker sheared the weapon completely in half, embedding itself deep into the wall with a deafening thud. “I told you to stay away from her, did I not?”

And then came hell. Thor burst through the doorway, a literal storm rolling in behind him. He didn't even use his weapon. He descended on Valentin like an enraged deity, reaching out and grabbing the man by the collar of his expensive suit. “No—“ Valentin scrambled, his face draining of all color as he looked up into the face of a god.

“You hit her, and you tried to kiss her?” Thor rumbled, his voice shaking the light fixtures above. “You are in big trouble, boy.”

With a display of raw strength, Thor hoisted him completely off the floor and slammed him ruthlessly against the concrete wall. Thor's eyes completely turned into a blinding, static blue, the white-hot electricity arcing across his shoulders and down his arms. Valentin desperately pleaded for his life, gasping for air, but Thor was entirely deaf to it.

You slid down to the floor, clutching your throbbing head, watching the entire scene unfold in awe. Thor grabbed Valentin by the neck, lifting him higher, and delivered two brutal, bone-crushing punches straight to his jaw. Then, with a dark, final grunt of fury, he let the lightning loose. A massive burst of pure electricity fried Valentin instantly, dropping his lifeless body to the floor in a smoking heap. Oops.

The room went quiet, save for the faint hum of residual static. Thor immediately spun around, the terrifying god of war instantly vanishing the moment his eyes landed on you. He rushed to his knees at your side, his large hand gently but firmly holding your jaw, tilting your head up to assess the dark bruising swelling near your temple.

You tried to pull away slightly, the intensity of his focus making your chest tighten. “I'm fine,” you muttered. But your heart was beating erratically in your chest, completely overwhelmed by the unhinged protectiveness he had just shown. He had literally killed a man for putting a hand on you. He was fussing over you like you were the most precious thing in the universe. Was he really the same guy you thought regretted everything this morning?

Seeing the deep, pained expression of guilt and fear swirling in his blue eyes, you let out a soft sigh, your voice softening. “I heal fast, remember?” Thor cleared his throat, his thumb lingering against your jaw for one more second before he reluctantly nodded and let you go.

He helped you up and you both quickly slipped out of the room, heading out into the humid night air. You sprinted back to the villa, throwing your clothes into your luggage in a silent rush, before moving stealthily toward the designated extraction point in the cliffs. Once outside in the dark, Thor held Stormbreaker high into the sky, the Bifrost roaring down in a blinding beam of rainbow light, swallowing you both whole.

—

It has been two days since you came back, and you and Thor were completely ignoring each other. It was obvious to everyone else in the compound; it was the exact polar opposite of what you guys were always like. Normally, you kept riling each other up because you secretly loved it. You yelled at each other, threatened each other daily, but you were always together, attached at the hip like some dysfunctional shadow.

Now? He let you have your morning coffee without a single fuss. You let him be whenever he talked like the booming Asgardian he is, not even bothering to roll your eyes. You weren't even in the same room unless it was absolutely necessary to begin with; either you or Thor would leave the second the other walked in. It was an undeniable fact that youwere both desperately staying away from each other.

And you missed him. You missed the way he riled you up, missed the way he smiled down at you with that smug but inexplicably sweet expression on his face... you missed him so much it hurt your very soul. Natasha had quietly asked about it, Tony made a few mocking jokes, Steve only silently analyzed you two with a furrowed brow, and Scott? Well, Scott wasn't really aware of anything going on. But Rocket had literally yelled, “Why the hell are you two not fighting?!” at the both of you in the kitchen yesterday. You had only turned and left the room without a word, while Thor merely grunted, staring miserably into his mug as he sipped his coffee.

You had mandatory team training today. Eager to avoid any confrontation, you woke up at 5:00 AM just to have your coffee and breakfast completely away from him and everyone else, before retreating straight back to your room to get ready into your tight, black gear.

Thor woke up a few hours later and had his coffee as usual, but it felt entirely tasteless without the usual, fiery fight he had with you over who got to pour the first cup. Fuck, he missed you. He missed you so much he felt it aching deep in his bones, his heart, his lungs—everywhere. He hated this distance. He hated the silence.

He quickly made his way down to the training area, his intense blue eyes scanning the perimeter the second he stepped foot on the grass, instantly searching for you. And there you were near the equipment mats, talking to Steve with a quiet familiarity, just like you had been doing for the last two days. The sight of you leaning in slightly to hear what the captain was saying made rage build inside Thor's chest. The static in his veins flared, his jaw locking hard as his fists clenched at his sides.

It cannot be, his mind echoed fiercely, a desperate attempt to talk himself down. You are getting jealous over nothing. He is merely her teammate. But as he watched Steve laugh at something you said, Thor's chest hollowed out with that same burning, possessive fire that had consumed him before. He turned his head away, staring out across the vast, sun-drenched gardens of the compound, trying to force his breathing to steady. He was clearly out of his mind. He was a god, for kingdoms' sake, yet he was ready to throw down with the Captain over a simple conversation.

Meanwhile, out on the grass near the training mats, you and Steve were actually talking about the exact elephant in the room. “Tell me, doll, what happened with you two?” Steve asked, his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze shifting between you and the brooding god standing fifty yards away by the glass doors. “Nothing” you said immediately, adjusting the tracking straps on your wrists, trying to deflect. “It's obvious, you know? Don't bother lying.” Steve’s voice was gentle, but persistent.

You looked down at your combat boots, the weight of the secret pressing too heavily on your chest. Looking around to ensure no one else was in earshot, you finally whispered, “We slept together, Steve.” Steve's eyebrows furrowed in deep, pure confusion. “Okay... I know you don't exactly like the guy, but sleeping in the same bed couldn't have caused this much of a disaster—“ You snapped your head up and rolled your eyes, letting out a heavy sigh. Idiots. The whole lot of them were pure idiots. “Steve. Not like that,” you said, slapping your hand against your forehead. He had completely dismissed the actual option because his straight-laced brain simply couldn't believe it.

“What do you mean?” he asked again, completely lost.

You huffed, crossing your arms tightly. “We had sex.”

Steve’s eyes widened to the size of saucers, his arms instantly uncrossing as his brain short-circuited. “You—“ he pointed a finger at you, then pointed vaguely in Thor's direction. “Thor—“ he stammered, blubbering out in total confusion, it was very uncharacteristic of him you admit.

“Yes,” you cut him off, wanting to get the bandage ripped off. “And he regrets it, but me? I'm completely in love with him. Yay!” you said sarcastically, clapping your hands together in a mocking, bitter celebration.

Steve stood there in pure shock. You had never seen the Captain America look so entirely stunned, but then, something passed through his eyes. It was like a veil had been lifted, an entire timeline of events rewriting itself in his mind. “That's why you guys were always together,” he said, realization dawning on him. “You two are completely in love—“

“Whoa! Hold your horses,” you interrupted, your face heating up under the morning sun. “I am the one who's in love. Not him. He couldn't wait to escape the bed the next morning—“

“He is definitely in love with you—“ Steve started to counter, his voice laced with the certainty of a man who had been watching Thor pine from the sidelines for years. But whatever wisdom he was about to drop was loudly cut off by Tony’s voice echoing across the lawn through a megaphone. “We're all here, folks, let's get started! Cap, stop flirting with Shadow, goldilocks looks like he's about to blast you with lightning!” Tony yelled, gesturing toward the center of the field.

You stiffened, your eyes instinctively darting over to Thor, who was already marching onto the grass, his expression promising devastation for whoever had to spar with him today.

Your heart fastened at the sight of him, your eyes darting over his heavy frame, completely unable to control the sudden spike in your pulse. Steve grumbled something under his breath about Tony being incredibly annoying as he stood up and offered you a hand. You took his hand and got up, brushing the grass off your tight athletic pants.

Suddenly, a faint rumble of thunder vibrated through the ground. You paused, your eyebrows furrowing as you looked up at the sky, only to see bright, uninterrupted sunshine. Your eyebrows furrowed deeper. Okay... were you actually going insane?

“Did you hear that?” Steve asked quietly, looking over at you. You nodded, relieved that you weren't the only one losing your mind. But then Steve’s lips twitched into a knowing, subtle smirk. “Not in love with you, you said?” he murmured, giving you a pointed look before he turned and walked toward the center of the lawn.

You stood frozen in place for two more seconds, processing his words, before forcing your feet to move toward the rest of the team. Thor, Steve, Tony, Bruce, Scott, Nat, Clint, and even Rocket—everyone was gathered on the grass.

“Alright, listen up, children,” Tony announced, clapping his hands together. “Today we're doing partner drills. Mixed combat.” Rocket immediately hopped forward, pointing a tiny, clawed finger at you. “Pair me with Shadow! I wanna be her badass partner!”

“Why does this bunny keep yelling?” Tony muttered, rubbing his temples before looking down at the raccoon and pointing a dramatic finger across the yard. “No! Look at pointbreak over there!” He gestured toward Thor, who was standing like a dark, towering statue of menace, the grass practically singeing beneath his boots. “He's going to be her partner or we're all getting barbecued today!”

Your expression soured instantly. Okay, what the hell? Did everyone switch sides? Tony knew Thor despised you so why would he try to pair you up with him? Rocket turned his head to look at Thor, blinked at the glare the god was throwing his way, and made a startled, defensive expression. “Okay, yeah, you're right.” But then Rocket snapped his head back to Tony, baring his teeth. “I'm not a fucking bunny!”

Steve immediately interrupted, his captain instincts kicking in. “Rocket, language!” You rolled your eyes heavily. “Really, Steve?”

“Grandpa,” Tony muttered in agreement, rolling his eyes. “Alright, let's start.”

Your partner was Thor, as Tony had so graciously assigned, and standing across from you on the mats was Steve paired up with Bruce. The strategy was obvious—Bruce was meant to keep Thor occupied. The second the starting signal was given, Hulk lunged straight at Thor.

While Thor was engaged, his massive fists trading heavy blows with the green giant, he kept looking sideways at you. He was completely distracted by how easily you and Steve had slid into perfect synchronization. His blood burned hot in his veins. Focus, his mind echoed fiercely, but every time he saw Steve catch your arm to fling you into a high kick, his vision swam with red. With a roar of frustration, Thor drove a massive punch straight into the Hulk's jaw, sending the massive beast stumbling back a few heavy steps.

Meanwhile, you and Steve were moving seamlessly. You ducked low under Steve's arm, using his shoulder as leverage to drive a brutal spin-kick directly into his abdomen but he caught your foot smiling at you. You retreated yoou foot, vaulted off the ground, twisting mid-air to deliver a kick. But something that shouldn't have happened, happened. As you came down, Steve extended a hand, catching you firmly by the waist to stabilize your landing.

The moment Steve’s hands locked onto your waist, the sky changed. Thick, dark storm clouds suddenly swirled over the compound out of nowhere, completely blocking the sun in a matter of seconds. A massive, deafening rumble of thunder crashed directly overhead, accompanied by a simple, gravelly growl, “No.”

You blinked, looking over just in time to see Thor completely abandon his fight with the Hulk, turning his back on the training exercise entirely as he marched straight toward you.

“No,” he simply repeated, his face a mask of pure fury. Before you or Steve could even register what was happening, Thor reached out, his hands wrapping around your upper arms, and yanked you away from Steve, pulling you flush against his chest.

Your eyes narrowed into lethal slits, the physical contact setting your nerves on fire. “What the hell do you think you're doing?”

“I am removing you from Steve's arms,” he stated matter-of-factly, his chest heaving heavily against your back, his deep voice carrying a possessive finality.

Every single eye on the field was instantly focused on the two of you. The entire team stood frozen in pure shock—except for Steve. Steve would have been shocked too, if he hadn't just heard your confession three minutes prior.

“Thor, calm down,” Steve said evenly, raising his hands in a placating gesture.

But Thor snapped his head up, his blue eyes blazing with static electricity. “Do not talk, Steve,” he threatened, a rumble vibrating from his throat. Absolute displeasure and violence radiated off his massive frame.

“Don't,” you hissed, struggling fiercely against his iron grip, trying to wrench your arms free. “Don't you dare try to act all possessive now, when you are the one who regrets everything—“

“Regret?” Thor asked, the word cutting through his anger as he stopped, staring down at you. “Me?”

Then, to your utter fury, he let out a dark, breathless chuckle. “You are a hypocrite, Little Flame.”

Natasha took one look at the amount of tension and immediately turned to the rest of the team. “I think we should give them space.” Tony didn't even glance away, his eyes wide as he actively enjoyed the spectacle. It was like he was watching his absolute favorite primetime drama play out live. “Why? We're all outdoors. Shouldn't they be the ones to go inside for privac—“

“Tony,” Natasha said warning him.

“Okay, alright,” Tony caved, raising his hands.

He and the rest of the team quickly retreated toward the compound, but even Natasha couldn't help herself; the second they got inside, the entire lineup of Avengers pressed themselves against the glass doors, watching the drama unfold through the windows.

“What is that supposed to mean?” You countered fiercely, turning fully in his grip to face him, your chest heaving.

“You are the one who regrets everything! Flirting with Steve the second you came back—“

“Excuse me? We were not flirting!” you yelled back, chuckling in pure, broken frustration as you looked away for a split second before snapping your eyes back to his burning gaze. “We were talking, like friends do! Hold on—you don't get to question me on that, seeing as you were clearly comfortable flirting with her!”

Thor huffed, his eyebrows furrowing in genuine confusion. “Who have I flirted with?!”

“Don't play dumb now, Thor! THE RECEPTIONIST!” you screamed, the weight of the last forty-eight hours finally breaking through your defenses. Tears of hot, angry frustration built up rapidly in your eyes, blurring your vision as your voice cracked. “You left me the second the sun rose! You left the bed completely empty! And then you proceeded to go and flirt with her!”

“I was not flirting with her!” he bellowed, the desperation in his voice cracking through the thunder rolling above. “I woke up early because I wanted to surprise you,” he insisted, completely ignoring the venom dripping from your words. “You were sleeping so deeply... you looked so peaceful, and I did not want to wake you. I went down there specifically to get your favorite fruits and coffee to bring back to our quarters. That girl—she just approached me. I did not even hear a word she said, I swear it to you by the All-Father! I was only thinking of you.”

You scoffed, a broken, trembling sound. “And the smiling?” you challenged, your voice shaking despite your best efforts to keep your shields up. “You looked down at her and smiled, Thor. I saw you.”

He shook his head frantically, “I was smiling because I was happy!” he burst out, his massive chest heaving under his athletic shirt. “I was thinking about how you looked in my arms. I was thinking about what you told me before you slept. I was happy because of you, Little Flame. Not her. Never her.”

You stared up at him, your breath hitching sharply in your throat. He sounded so painfully sincere, so desperately eager to clear his name, but the cold dread of your own insecurities was still screaming in the back of your mind.

“You left the bed empty,” you whispered, your professional facade completely shattering as your voice cracked, exposing the raw, bleeding core of your heart. “You weren't there when I woke up.”

Thor froze. His eyebrows knitted together tightly as the realization of what you had been torturing yourself with finally dawned on his mind. His heart dropped straight to his stomach, a weight crushing him as he realized the terror and abandonment he had accidentally put you through.

“Oh, gods,” he breathed, his fierce, possessive expression melting into pure heartbreak. His voice cracked with emotion. “You thought I regretted it? You thought I left you?”

You looked away, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze. “You—“ You tried to speak, but a small, pathetic sniffle escaped you instead. The sound made Thor take a sharp, painful intake of breath. Moving instantly, his large hand came up, his fingers gently but firmly holding your chin to force your face back up so you had to look at him.

“I do not regret it. I could never regret it,” he said, his blue eyes swimming with a matching pain as he looked down at your tear-stained face.

You sniffled again, looking up at him through wet lashes. Your heart was beating frantically against your ribs, a spark of dangerous, beautiful hope flaring to life in your chest. Taking a breath, you asked something you never, in a million years, thought you would ever ask the arrogant god.

“Do you like me?” you whispered, your small hand coming up to hold the thick wrist of the arm holding your chin.

Thor's face immediately scrunched up into a deeply offended, dismissive expression. “Not so much.”

Your heart instantly dropped straight to your stomach, the rejection freezing your blood. “But you—“

Before you could finish the sentence, Thor reached out and grabbed your cheeks with both of his massive hands, tilting your head up as he brought his mouth down on yours. He kissed you deeply, passionately, a bruising, breathless possession that completely wiped all thoughts from your brain. When he finally pulled back just a fraction, his thumbs wiping the fresh tears from your cheeks, he continued his sentence.

“I do not like you. I am completely and utterly in love with you,” he confessed, the words hitting you right in the center of your chest.

A startled, watery laugh bubbled out of your throat. “You dumbass,” you chuckled, your hands moving to grip his forearms as a massive, radiant smile finally broke across your face. “Why would you word it like that?” Thor didn't care about his poor phrasing; his eyes were boring into yours with an intense, desperate seriousness. “Do you?” he asked, looking down at you with adoration.

"Do I what?"

“Regret it,”

“I don't,” you said, shaking your head without a single second of hesitation. “Why would I, when you are the man I am completely in love with?” you whispered, finally letting the confession pass your lips.

Thor’s blue eyes lit up like a blinding flash of lightning. A breathtaking smile split his handsome face, and without waiting another syllable, he slammed his lips back onto yours, kissing you with a ferocious, joyful hunger.

“I do not know what is wrong with me, Little Flame,” he mumbled against your lips between deep, bruising kisses. “I do not know how I did not realize sooner how pathetically in love I am with you.” His large hands slid down from your face, wrapping firmly around your waist and lifting you slightly off the grass to deepen the kiss, completely forgetting they were standing in the middle of a compound training field.

Inside the building, behind the massive glass doors, the entire lineup of Avengers was pressed flat against the window. Tony was rooted completely in place, his mouth agape, his hands raised in bewilderment. “Are you guys seeing what I am seeing, or am I hallucinating? Is Pointbreak currently kissing Shadow?”Natasha stood next to him, a triumphant, knowing smirk spreading across her lips as she crossed her arms. “About damn time.”

Outside, Thor kept kissing you thoroughly, but suddenly, he pulled his face away by a mere inch. Your eyebrows knitted together in immediate irritation at the loss of contact. “What is it?” You asked. Thor hesitated, his jaw flexing as he muttered just one word, the lingering jealousy still clear in his tone: “Steve?”

You rolled your eyes, letting out a breathless laugh as you locked your hands behind his neck and pulled his head right back down to your lips. “Don't piss me off while I'm kissing you,” you murmured against his mouth.

Thor let out a low, vibrating hum of pure compliance against your lips. “You are right, I’m sorry, I love you,” he mumbled onto your mouth, his grip on your waist tightening as he buried his face back into yours.

—

Masterlist

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