Marvel Imagines From DeviantArt (Requests Closed)

Late Night Poptarts (Thor Odison)

 Thor Odinson was hungry.

The kind of hungry that tends to make one arouse from their slumber very late at night, when even the moon and stars want to go to sleep themselves. The kind of hungry that made one's stomach growl in the manner of an angry beast.

It was the kind of hungry that only a certain food would satisfy.

So, despite the god's reluctance to roll out of the utterly commodious mattress he had drifted off to sleep in, Thor forced his body to move from the bed and slowly made his way towards the closed door of his bedroom. Well, it was not exactly his bedroom, to be honest. It was his temporary bedroom for the time being.

The blonde-haired, blue-eyed god yawned loudly as he lumbered out of the dark bedroom and into the even dark hallway, feet automatically taking him in the direction where the kitchen was found. All the while, his stomach and digestive system decided to make a little noise along the way, voicing their current status of being hungry as they had when he had woken up. Stretching his arms above his head, Thor blinked rapidly to clear his eyes of the last bits of sleep that were still stubbornly clinging to them and rounded the corner of the hallway, where the kitchen was in all its food-storing glory.

As soon as he entered said room, his stomach growled the loudest yet. To make matters worse, his bare feet creaked exceptionally loudly when he took one step towards the fridge. So loud, Thor could not help but wince, hoping she hadn't heard a thing.

She gets very...livid...whenever she is awoken late at night or early in the morning.

Thor paused, ears anticipating an infuriated screech from a few doors down the hallway and a large, heavy object to be thrown at his face. When nothing out of the ordinary occurred, the Asgardian prince relaxed and gave a sigh of relief.

"I must be as quiet as possible," Thor murmured to himself as he slowly creaked across the kitchen to the fridge. Why was it that the blasted appliance was halfway across the floor? Or perhaps, why was it that on the night he had to be extremely silent, the floor beneath him was attempting to ruin his life?

What is it that humans call it? Ah, yes...Murphy's Law. The blonde Asgardian shook his head as he at last reached the fridge, his hand grasping the handle firmly. Though he did find many human sayings a bit strange and useless, he had to admit that a handful were quite applicable to even his life—such as "Murphy's Law." Whatever can go wrong, will go wrong.

"I pray the floor is the only thing that goes wrong." Thor carefully pulled the fridge door open and crouched down somewhat, so as to get a better angle at the glorious contents inside the chilly electrical box. It was still a tad confounding to him—being a god of thunder and all—how much humans depended on their electricity for nearly every single thing. Electricity should have been used for a much greater purpose, such as battle! Then again...he did enjoy "television."

As he peered inside the fridge, his eyes scanned every inch of every shelf for what he was currently desiring. He could almost taste the sweetness on his tongue. Despite her pokes and teasing about him storing the delicious artifacts in the fridge rather than just in a cupboard—apparently, that was the 'proper' way to store them—she always made sure to buy him three boxes a week. It was a fee that was quickly sucking up her wallet, he knew, but when S.H.I.E.L.D. was the one who technically provided the money for her to lodge and feed him until his room at the headquarters was finished, she had no reason to complain. Besides, her salary was quite large enough for his appetite and hers. What differences did three boxes a week make?

Suddenly, however, Thor realized something.

None of the boxes were in the fridge.

None.

And, from his memory of the morning prior to the night, there had been one full box and one halfway empty box. Enough for at least two more snacks.

Thor's eye twitched slightly as his own band of irritation leisurely worked its way from his head to his toes, circulating throughout every vein. Closing the fridge door, he turned around very slowly, bright blue eyes locked on the darkness of the hallway connecting the rest of the rooms of the home all together.

He began to walk, stride long and purposeful; and perhaps just a bit angry.

Well, no. Not a bit.

Quite angry.

Tightening one large hand into a fist, Thor's eyebrows narrowed as he came to a stop at one certain door.

"It pains me to say, (name), but you must pay dire consequences for consuming my Poptarts."

MEANWHILE...

(First name) (last name) was stressed. Very stressed. First off, being an employee of S.H.I.E.L.D. came with quite a lot of work; especially when one worked in the human resource department. To make matters worse, somehow (name) had been the lucky one when trying to house the Asgardian Thor. Read: she had been slightly bullied into being Thor's housemate by Fury, who had promised her a raise, just until the otherworldly prince's room at the S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters was finished.

Having a very attractive "god" living in your house with you could be quite stressing, if anyone had bothered to ask (name) in the past month.

First off, Thor's appetite. It was atrocious. If it wasn't for the raise, (name) was certain that she would have gotten eaten out of the house by now. Not to mention the fact that Thor's stomach seemed to revolve around Poptarts most of the time.

Secondly, his way of speaking. At times, it would make (name) feel as if she had been sucked into Shakespearean England—which also meant she had to struggle to understand what Thor was saying. Yet, at other times, she couldn't help but find the "proper" manner of speaking he portrayed quite refreshing.

Third, the Asgardian's personality. Some days, all (name) wanted to do was bash Thor's blonde head in with that hammer of his. He could be extremely sexist, yet, at the same time, also exceedingly charming. It was a strange combination.

Lastly, there was the matter of Thor's...handsomeness. It wasn't fair that (name) had to be plagued with seeing that beautiful, godly face of his every damn day. Why did she have to be an exceptional employee? If she hadn't been so on task, she would have never been stuck with housing the man for as long as she was. (Name) wasn't completely asexual. She could appreciate an attractive man. And Thor, well...he was probably one of the most attractive men she had ever encountered. Those rippling muscles (which he showed on a daily basis, because apparently walking around in nothing but a towel was a routine thing for the Asgardian), that long blonde hair, those piercing blue eyes, and that face.

Dear God, it should have been a sin to look that good. Then again, that would have been extremely ironic, considering the fact that Thor was technically a god of Norse myth who just happened to be real.

Back to (name)'s stress.

It was one of those weeks where she had a dozen deadlines to fill for work. You name it, she had to do it. So it wasn't exactly helpful when all Thor did to assist her was ask for more Poptarts.

Yes. Poptarts.

The damn Asgardian prince had an addiction to freaking Poptarts.

Of all the earth food he could have had an addiction to—bacon, pasta, steak, KFC...but no. It had to be Poptarts.

Which just so happened to be one of (name)'s biggest temptations.

It took everything in her not to steal a package occasionally from Thor's stash just for a little break snack. She knew what would happen if he realized just one was missing; he would go completely ballistic. Thor had a problem, and he needed to get help for it.

It stood to reason that one of these days, she would going to crack under pressure and need to good old fashioned sugar in her system. This particular night just happened to be exactly that.

(Name) was tired and ornery and ready to sleep after a day of literally nothing but paperwork. She had the paper cuts to prove it. Yet, all she could do once she had returned home was try and finish the paperwork that had deadlines for tomorrow—which meant she had to pull an all-nighter. (Name) was not the type of person who could last long without sleep. It was understandable that once two in the morning came around, all she wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep for about three weeks. But no—there was still work to be done, and there was only one thing that would keep her going.

Some form of sugar or caffeine.

So, (name) weighed her options. Coffee would make her have to go to the bathroom more than she would like. Something sweet and sugary would eventually give her a crash. Considering the fact that she wasn't even much of a coffee fan in the first place, sugar was the best choice. And nothing screamed sugar like "Poptarts."

Of course, there was the matter of Thor.

However, (name) really could have cared less. She was grumpy, renting most of her house to the god for free practically, and dammit—she liked Poptarts too! She was allowed to treat herself to something nice every once and awhile. So be it if Thor's precious Poptarts stash was going to be depleted slightly—she would buy him more when she had the chance!

Which was how (name) currently found herself: in her room, surrounded by uncompleted paperwork and empty Poptarts wrappers and boxes, having emptied the fridge (it still irked her to no end how Thor refused to store them anywhere else) of all those delicious sugar-packed delicacies in an attempt to stay awake just a little longer. (Name) hadn't been able to help herself in eating an entire box and the two packages left in the other one—she was just so desperate to stay awake, and she hadn't had a Poptart in so long...so here she was in her room, nibbling the last bits of a Poptart and staring at a piece of paper with a blank look, wondering just what the hell it was exactly and why she was even bothering to stay awake this long.

It was also how Thor found her when he barged into her room with a highly irritated aura about him.

As soon as Thor's blue eyes locked with the scattered Poptart wrappers and empty boxes on the ground, and then the last bit of a Poptart slowly disappearing into (name)'s mouth, he had to force himself to remain calm. After all, she was kind of his supervisor in the house department at the moment.

Yet—

She also knew how much he loved his Poptarts. And that he was royalty. And that he had a big hammer that could kill people.

The two merely stared at one another for a moment or so—(name) still casually munching the Poptart while Thor just kind of stood there. Then, when (name) had at last finished the last of the bite, she swallowed and said in an obviously exhausted yet deadpan voice, "Thor. You're in my room. Uninvited. Get out."

"(Name)," the Asgardian replied in the same dry tone, "you have eaten the last of my Poptarts. Without my permission. This is an extremely serious offense to me."

"I was hungry and needed sugar, dammit. I'll buy you more tomorrow. Or whenever I get to it. Now get out so I can finish this paperwork."

Again, nothing but staring. As Thor gazed at the human girl, he began to detect noticeable signs of her stress and weariness—the bags beneath her (e/c) eyes, the way her (h/c) lay limp against her slightly pale face, and the overall ill appearance she gave off. For a moment, a pang of guilt resided in the blonde's chest, but he refused to forgive and forget so quickly.

"You could have partaken in another sweet substance, rather than my Poptarts," Thor managed to respond with at last. (Name) just continued to stare at him—it was an empty, exhausted stare that was practically begging for him to mess with her. He knew how she got when she was tired. An angry, debilitated woman was one that all men were to fear—even he knew that. Now, that pang of guilt quickly swelled into a supernova, and he feared he would become consumed by such an emotion. Thor swallowed and tried a different approach, stepping a bit closer to her desk.

"Or you should have gone to sleep instead of staying up this late so you had the need to consume the last of my Poptarts. Take it from a warrior like me—rest is essential in order to properly fulfill whatever task you have been assigned. I will exempt you from punishment this one time, as I can see you are in dire need of sleep."

(Name) at last stood up, her stance a bit shaky as she gradually walked toward him. Thor began to wonder if she hadn't slept in a couple of days, due to the gravity of how ailing and almost unresponsive she was being. Normally, if he had barged into her room uninvited—especially during her work—(name) would not have hesitated to pummel him with something painful. She did not exactly fear the fact that he was a god here on Midgard.

"Listen here, buddy," (Name) muttered in an almost inaudible tone, poking her finger rapidly at Thor's rock hard chest as if she was going to pulverize him with her fingernail. "I'm your damn...person...who lets you live at my house for free. I will eat your goddamn Poptarts when and if I want to, and you can just shove a rock in that mouth of yours and deal with it. Who earns the money around here? Me. Who's the god-person-thing who should be grateful I let you live here until that Avengers H.Q. place is finished? You. So shut the hell up, and...and...and..."

"Er...(name)?" Thor blinked rapidly as the young woman's body suddenly slumped against his chest, slowly sliding towards the ground. In an instant, he caught her in his large arms, worry clouding his face as he quickly lifted her head towards him.

It was a complete shock to see that (name) had either fallen dead asleep or unconscious in the matter of seconds, her eyes shut tightly and her mouth slack as her face relaxed into an expression of comfort that could be found only in a dreamland.

A slight smile tugged at Thor's lips as he shook his head, glancing at the messy bed that was next to her even messier desk. Very carefully, the Asgardian warrior carried the Midgardian girl to the bed and placed her down on it, pulling the blankets over her inert body. (Name) merely mumbled something in her sleep in response and rolled over slightly, completely dead to the world and obviously on a very quick sugar crash.

Thor turned around and gazed at the murder scene (read: evidence of the decimation of Poptarts) all over her room. Feeling a tad courteous, he tossed all the wrappers into the trash, knowing that all (name) had wanted was to finish her paperwork. He should have been more understanding, of course; he still had issues with relating to humans on certain things. However, he also knew that if (name) asked, she would be given a couple days off from work. She was just that much of an on-task employee.

He gave one last glance at the sleeping (name) before he exited the room and retired to his own chamber for rest. A strange urge suddenly jolted through his body and, unable to resist, he found himself leaning down and pressing his lips against her smooth forehead, allowing himself to linger there for a few moments more than what he should have allowed.

Perhaps Poptarts were not the only form of sweetness he should be partaking in during his stay in Midgard.

"...rest well, dear (name)," Thor murmured as he at last pulled himself away and towards the door, now wrestling with these new and curious sensations that sent his heart pounding like the rhythm of a thunderclap.

However, just before he exited her bedroom, one more thought swam across his mind, and he could not help but voice it quietly.

"...but you are still purchasing me more Poptarts."

~~~

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