vanillarose17

[vanillarose17]

Matters of the Heart - Chapter One

A/N: hey this is my first ever post on tumblr, i’m open to reader feedback, pls let me know what u guys think lol, this is sfw and will have 3 chapters in total. I’m in the midst of chap 2 now lol.

Also can someone tell me how to block certain tags on tumblr?

CW: None, pre-romantic. Pining. SFW.

word count: ~1.4k

Chapter One: Wonder

You survey the array of sustenance on the table in front of you: tomatoes, cheese and red meat - all your least favourite foods in excess, and sigh.

Peter bounds into the room, flanked by Thor in all of his blond, brawny glory. Engrossed in their conversations, they pile food onto their plates, nearly knocking over the other in the process, until Peter’s gaze turns to you.

You snap out of whatever it was you were thinking about, or rather whoever, force yourself to school your features and smile back at the teenager, knowing your returning grin doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

You hope he can’t tell what’s bothering you, you’d been spending a lot of time with him in the pantry and the living room and pretty much anywhere now that Tony was away on a getaway vacation with Pepper, and if anyone were to find out your… predilections, the way scenarios you’d never even entertained before had now begun sieving through your brain like ribbons, leaving you wanting, frustrated and utterly confused, you would be sure to throw yourself off of a cliff and never return.

He reaches out an arm, his features youthful and earnest, calling your name, as Thor greets you in his usual easy, rumbling timbre.

“Do you wanna come watch Thor and me cook dinner tonight? Or tomorrow, any day this week really. We’re gonna have the most insane bake-off, and we need a judge. Someone impartial. We don’t feel like making anything savoury and he’s been taking lessons from the pastry chefs in Asgard, but you know nothing beats Aunt May’s apple pie… I’m pretty sure I’m gonna win, and you don’t have to like, supervise us or anything, but you like us both so it’s probably gonna be hard to choose, anyways the only other person in the compound now is Loki and sometimes I just can’t tell if he wants to be here or not-“ he rambles, albeit endearingly.

You then tear your gaze from Peter, offering another construed smile and open the fridge door, looking for everything and nothing as his words reach a confused halt.

The mere utterance of the raven-haired god’s name had sent you reeling. You felt like someone had gone through your underwear drawer just by mentioning his title to your face - that was the effect he had on you.

How dare you imagine yourself in places of such familiarity and intimacy with him. He was quasi-immortal, had lived in the collective consciousness for centuries, had had countless… conquests, you were sure, none of which could be bested by the likes of you.

He’d tried to subjugate a whole city for God’s sake, and thrown your now-boss out of a window. He’d been a beleaguering megalomaniac, narcissistic and odious and devastatingly handsome.

But he was also tortured and manipulated by a mad titan, having struck a deal with a losing end out of unimaginable rage, pain and despondency.

You knew that after his return to Asgard, before he was taken to his omnipotent father, in chains, he’d divulged the details of his resulting coercion and deal after he’d let go of the Bifrost, to his mother and brother.

Any anger and resentment he’d held at the time, which he’d had in spades, had been compounded by the Mind Stone hidden in the scepter given to him by Thanos, forcing him to act like a marionette, a bird out of its cage for the first time, rabid, wild and misguided.

“Woah, Y/N, is everything okay? I thought you were gonna black out on me for a moment there. Are you hungry? You don’t like the food? I could heat something else up for you….”

Peter’s notes of concern snaps you out of your worldbuilding, his voice tempered and even. Thor peers at you, his eyes kind and narrowed, and you wonder if you’d ever be graced by such a tender expression on his mercurial brother.

“You look positively exhausted, Y/N. You don’t have to critique us if you don’t wish to, it’s all in good fun anyways… maybe we’ve overwhelmed y-?”

You shake your head furiously at Thor’s suggestion, berating yourself for being so easily affected by your musings, though ever since Loki arrived at the compound you’d been easily affected by anything and everything, really.

“I’m fine you guys. Really. Must be my hormones. You know, PMS and all” you, willing yourself to believe it, and only Peter’s expression slightly relaxes.

“And of course I’ll judge your bake-off, Peter.” You give the teen a genuine, reassuring smile this time, and you swear his features light up the whole hall.

“Movie?” you offer stupidly, fishing a fruit cup from the shelf, ruffling his curls affectionately.

Peter shouts in joy and races ahead, while Thor, unconvinced, follows you to the living room, where you would sequester on the chesterfield sofa.

His guiding hand rests atop your shoulder, chaste and warm, and he tells you that you could confide in him if there was anything you ever wanted to say. You peer up in acknowledgment, hoping he could not make out the flurry of emotion in your eyes, give him what must be your seventh forced grin of the day, and settle yourself on the sofa, mumbling notes of thanks and assurances that you were alright.

Thor wielded Mjolnir, one of the most powerful weapons in the universe, and you’d heard tales, probable truths, of the destruction it had caused, could evoke. How could a being worthy enough to possess such a formidable arms ever wrap his head around what you felt for his brother, a god in every measure, in equal standing, even if he never saw it that way.

You lean back, giving Peter free reign of choosing the evening’s entertainment, and as he wrestles Thor for the remote, their roughhousing and boisterous shouts become static as you resume your informed reverie of Loki.

You were nothing like him.

Despite your high-ranking post as a spy for the Avengers, a position you’d acquired through your tenacity and shrewdness, making you an indelible part of the team, you were painfully mortal and always would be.

You weren’t a super soldier like Steve and you surely weren’t as seasoned as Natasha, having not trained at the Red Room yourself, but you subconsciously knew you belonged on the team as much as anyone, no matter how loud the debasing, insidious voice in your head became.

You fiddle with the fruit cup, peeling back at the flimsy plastic.

When Loki had first arrived at the compound, everyone’s reactions were exactly as you’d expected.

Like a fish out of water, the god had made quips and remarks whenever he saw fit, needling Tony and mocking Thor, studying Natasha and steering clear of Bruce. His pride chipped at, his ego wounded, he’d initially been resistant to being a part of the very team he’d tried to best in the first place, but he’d had one of two choices - either bite the bullet and serve out his sentence in New York by assisting the heroes as recompense for his war crimes, or meet his swift, uninspiring end at the guillotine.

Thor and Loki’s mother, Frigga had begged and pleaded and reasoned with her husband, and you knew it was only her beseeching that ensured Loki was alive and well and here and the unknowing object of your carefully shrouded affections, which sometimes came as naturally to you as drawing in air, flexing a muscle.

But how discerning were you, truly, when it came to matters of the heart? As Loki integrated into communal living at the compound, slowly but surely, he’d begun showing up to trainings he said he didn’t need, participated in meetings he’d once called asinine, begrudgingly helped Peter with his history homework (You’d shamelessly eavesdropped from your place on the kitchen island, pretending to read a mission brief, and if Loki knew you were listening in, he didn’t mention it) and had even polished Steve’s shield once (After calling him the world’s most uninteresting relic).

You’d been rather terrified of Loki when he first showed up at the compound, but as his personality mellowed at an all too-slow pace, and you caught flickers of neutrality or even reluctant enjoyment or tolerance during said interactions with your team mates, your bleeding heart had opened like a dam, gushing and oozing and making you notice and feel everything transpiring within and around you.

Along with his lethal beauty, his tepid but sincere attempts at humanity had grown on you, taken root in your heart, vines of longing uncoiling and settling deep in your chest.

You pause from your musings and peer at Thor out of the corner of your eye. Dear John is playing on Tony’s home entertainment system, and you silently wonder if it was truly Peter that chose such a rousing movie on a relaxed evening.

Thor winks at you.

TBC! let me know what u think :3