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the-departed-potato · 2 years

Text

Burn for me

Pairing: Loki x fem!reader.

Word count: 4.3 K

Request by @joscelyn02: I’m loving your Loki and Bucky works at the moment! Maybe a Loki x Fem! Reader. Enemies to lovers and she just joined the avengers but has powers/magic and Loki helps her to learn control.... something like that ☺️

N/A: thank you! I hope you like this. Sorry about the delay, though. You've sent this long ago. Besides, I love this because it's totally taking me out of my comfort zone lmao.

(Taglist: @lucywrites02, @louieboo87, @jesuswasnotawhiteman, @geekwritersworld, @whatafuckingdumbass, @mysticunicorn7, @toe-vind-ek-jou, @t00-pi, @selfship-mishaps, @sallymagnoliaposts, @deadgirl88)

Breathe in… breathe out. You’ve got this. It’s all fine. You have it all under control. You just need to work harder for it. Breathe in… breathe out. Clench your fists. Unclench your jaw. Tension the arms. Untension the shoulders. Breathe in…

“It doesn’t look like she’s going very far with that”, you hear Tony Stark’s words through the thick glass. Your fishbowl, as Tony likes to call it, retais fine all of your failings, but not very well the discouraging words from the team.

“Give her time”, retorted Strange.

“It’s been three weeks since she’s arrived. Do you know how long it will take until she finally…”.

“No, Mr. Stark, I do not know how long, because it’s not actually my kind of “magic”, as you call it. You know, it would be easier if…”.

“Do you think I can just get a magician out of nowhere anytime I want? You’re my only hope”.

“Well, you look at this like it’s a hopeless situation”.

“It might, look at her”.

“Excuse me”, you call in between gasps. “I’m trying to focus here”.

Whatever they are saying now does not matter, for you are completely submerged into your own pulsating veins, the blood flowing through you should boil anytime now. Your face should burn your own skin and your hair should be lit up in flames. Anytime now.

Any…

Nothing. Nothing happens, again.

That same night, as you make your way to the compound’s kitchen, you stumble across a tall body. So tall, you have to look up to apologize. And then, once you look up, he smirks.

“You must be the clumsy wanna-be magician I’ve been called in for, yes?”.

“Excuse me?”. Did he just call you clumsy wanna-be magician?

“Let me introduce myself”, he starts, walking past you and entering the kitchen. You have no remedy but to follow. He starts making himself a cup of tea. Doesn’t offer you one, rude. You don’t like tea, but rude nonetheless. “You have fire powers, and Strange can’t figure out how on the Norns make you find your way through it, right?”.

“That’s not an introduction to yourself”. He raises his eyebrows.

“I’m the one figuring you out”.

“Figuring me out? Don’t you mean my powers?”.

“No, no, dear. I mean you”, he raised a finger and pointed at the tea. “Tea?”.

“Wasn’t it for you?”.

“I don’t drink tea. Drink this”, he orders, and you furrow your brows. What is he playing? “It’s not poisoned or anything, you watched me prepare it. It’s just tea”.

“I don’t believe you”.

“What can I offer for you to believe me?”.

He seems to be amused at your reactions. You feel played.

“I don’t easily trust any man I find in the middle of the night, you know”, you say.

“Good for you, I presume. Your fire powers… they are very powerful, you know?”.

“How would I know? I’ve never managed to use them”.

“They are something not even Gods should mess with”.

“Why are you telling me this?”.

“Your powers, dear, are in the wrong hands”, he says, with a deeper voice.

“And how exactly do you plan on…?”, but he raises his hand, shushing you. His figure looks so dominant in comparison to yours, even the slight movement makes you stutter.

“I’m taking it, if you don’t mind”.

“You… what? No, stop this. You’re being so creepy, I’m leaving”.

“Where are you leaving, exactly?”.

“I'm calling Stark. How do I know you’re not an intruder?”.

He grins widely, evilness shining in his eyes.

Oh. You were in trouble.

“Precisely”.

He snaps his fingers and every door and window you would have escaped from closes and locks. Your heart skipped a beat. You reach for your dagger but it isn’t there. You try to look for some kitchen knives, but the drawers are empty.

“What do you want?”, you ask with your heart in your throat. He keeps that smirk on his face and starts walking painfully slow to you. You move away, until a wall immobilizes you. He keeps getting closer and closer, until you close your eyes and wait for him to attack you. There is no other way you could escape.

“Why do you close your eyes?”, he whispers. You feel his breath in your face. It’s… cold? “Won’t you fight?”.

You open your eyes and find him mere inches away from you. Cold. He seems different now. The lights are off, but you can certainly distinguish a pale blue tone in his skin. Looking up to meet his eyes, you gasp. Bright red. You’ve never seen eyes like those before.

“What are you up to?”, you whisper with a tremble in your voice. “How do you plan to take the fire away from me?”.

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he slowly raises a hand up to your face and lays it in the wall, by your side. You’re cornered now, but you were cornered before even without his arms blocking the way out. You feel tiny, intimidated, terrified. Your legs shake.

“This would be a frostbite”, he says, as he reaches to your neck with his fingers. The hand lingers in there, hovering before touching you. Your breath hitches, and you shut your eyes tightly once again. “If I were to touch you, you’d basically combust. It’s so, so cold, not even Asgardians can resist it”.

“Don’t, please”, you beg in a whisper.

“If I were to touch you, your neck would turn grey as ash”.

“Stop”. Fear starts eating your brain.

“After that, it’d fall down piece by piece. You’d turn to a fragile stone. So, so fragile… you’d…”, he inhales deeply, nearly against the skin of your face. You couldn’t see his face, for you had your eyes as closed as you could. “You’d crumble”.

“Stop it”. Fear consumes most of you, now. But there’s something else. Impotence. You could be fighting your way out. How?

“It’s been a while since I’ve done this”.

“Stop. It”. Dread. Fright. Anger. He’s mocking you. He’s about to murder you, and nobody’s there to help you. Not even you. Not even your useless powers, or at least the promise of them.

“You’re so pretty, I’d like to keep you as a stone silhouette. Like a marble sculpture”.

“Shut up. Stop. Stop this”.

“Shame you’ll break to pieces”. His movements had been so slow until then, that the sharp movement of his other hand stumping against the wall makes you cry out a whine.

“Stop”, you say once again, and you’re sure your face is red. Bright red, out of anger and fear. Burning, you shout again “STOP”, but it is too late. His cold fingers wrap around your neck.

Nobody’s helping you now. It’s too late. He already touched you.

You thought it would be faster. You thought it would feel much colder. It didn’t. Instead, it felt like a gloveless hand in the winter.

As if you could only help it now, you punch his chest as strongly as you manage to. Which, apparently, was enough. He backed down from the impact until hitting violently against the other wall. Meters away. Your fist is burning; you’ve probably gotten his frostbite by punching him.

You are in the Avengers compound. If you were to die, you’d avenge yourself. It doesn’t matter how long it would take for you to shatter to pieces like a mug, or to dissolve like sugar. If he wanted to take you out, you’d make his life a living hell.

Your eyes are still closed, but your hands burn. Burn so, so warmly, so heavily, that you realize maybe it isn’t the frostbite. It’s not a cold burn. It’s…

Your eyes open. In between your fingers, flames dance around like silk. They feel soft, delicate. You imagine them going all the way around your arms and legs, and they obey. Just as you dreamed it would happen.

Around you, the residual traces of smoke are still surviving, hanging in the air. A route, a path of smoke and sparks all the way from your wall to the man’s. He’s still against the wall. It cracked with his impact, and, with wide open eyes and a smile from ear to ear, he touched the back of his scalp.

“It’s not bleeding”, he says in awe. “It cauterized”.

“I still can damage you, before I die”, you alert him, opening your hands and pointing your palms at him. Just like Iron Man would do, you thought, maybe it’d work this way. You were still to learn how to use it, but you had no more time in your hands. Only fire.

So you follow your instinct.

“Fight me”, he challenges.

You clench your fists and throw a punch to the air, just like before. Nothing. Wrong movement. The fire was still around you, so you could still try. He gets closer, and you grow increasingly nervous. Oh God. What if it didn’t work anymore?

He’s so close to you now, the fright immobilizes you again. Everything starts to become dizzier and blurrier, and you feel light. He’s almost about to touch your hands. He’s not blue anymore, after walking through a curtain of green lights.

“It’s alright”, he says in a calm voice. So calm, you realize it was all an act. But what for? He reaches your hands, and they’re humanly cold. Normal. Just like the ones in your neck from before. They didn’t hurt. They held you. “You’ve used too much of your strength all at once, you’ll faint now”, he alerted. Last thing you heard from him before passing out was: “you’re fine. I’m carrying you to your chambers and we meet properly tomorrow, once you’re well rested”.

“This is Loki. He’s your new magic teacher”, introduces Tony.

“Yes, we’ve met”, you say, cup of coffee boiling in your hands. “He attacked me last night”.

“For the record, I didn’t actually harm you”, he raises an eyebrow. Tony looks at both of you perplexed.

“You… what?”.

“He frostbited the hell out of me”, you explain, as you realize you’re changing the temperature of the coffee again, and leave it on the table. The casual magic you cast without noticing is the only reason you realized you had them in the first place. As a kid, you couldn’t play with plastic dolls. They melted in your hands.

“If I actually were to touch you in my Jötun form, you’d be dead within seconds”.

“What happened?”.

“I’m a shapeshifter. An illusioner”.

“Why on Earth would you do that to me? I thought I was dying”.

“Did you or did you not get all flamey and aggressive?”.

“You… you actually got your powers out?”, intervenes Tony. You shake your head.

“I didn’t control it. It just happened”.

“That’s the first step. I’ll teach you how to control it”, says Loki, so sure of himself. You want to punch him again, and this time with your bare hands would feel sufficient.

“Look, Mr. Stark, I appreciate you trying to get a better professor than Dr. Strange-- no offence”.

“Non taken”, answers Steven from the other side of the room.

“But”, you continue, “this man is a maniac. He said he wanted to take my powers away. You can see the recordings. He…”.

“I saw them, and I approved it before he did that”, explains Tony. You cock an eyebrow, bewildered. “He’s not hurting you, don’t worry. His methods are odd, but he’s like a thousand years older than all of us, and he knows what he’s doing”.

You sighed, resigned at the idea of Loki being your teacher. There wasn't any other way, was there? If Tony trusted him…

“Thank you, Stark”, says Loki, “and, for the record, I’m not a man”.

“What are your pronouns?”.

“No, I meant, I’m a God”.

“Oh”.

“We’re starting today, Lavagirl. Finish your breakfast, you might need it”, he says, and closes the door behind him. You roll your eyes at the idiotic nickname.

“Oh, come on. Who’s been teaching him pop culture references?”, asks Tony, glancing at Peter.

“Five”.

He counts, and your eyes close once again. Your breath is unstable. You try to stabilize it before he notices. He does, but you keep trying anyway.

“Four”.

His voice is raspy, almost a groan by itself; warm and rough like beach sand. You could even feel its texture in the back of your feet. No, focus.

“Three”.

His hands position themselves in the back of yours. He’s behind you. Not invading your personal space; you don’t have that anymore. There’s a fire creature living inside of you, and you’re never alone.

“Two… your hands are still cold”.

“My hands are never cold”.

“Focus. Imagine the flames around your fingers, just like a week ago”, he says, and his words don’t need to travel to your ears, for his mouth is already there. His lips accidentally graze your ear as he speaks, and you don’t feel fire, but something very similar. “Two”.

You inhale deeply and exhale. Your hands are warming up.

“One”.

He stays silent for a while, letting you concentrate. Not a muscle moves his body. His breathing is so soft it’s almost imperceptible. Your hands are getting hotter, and you feel your veins shine with fire, just like a week ago. Focus.

Nothing happens, again, and you open your eyes, annoyed. He sighs.

“I can’t do it when I’m calm”, you complain. He looks at you up and down.

“That’s an odd choice of words”.

“Why?”.

“I thought you could only do it when you’re angry. Like Dr. Banner”.

“I… don’t know, actually. I guess”.

He nodded. “So you can do it when you’re not calm. Not necessarily angry”, he states, and you nod. “For example, if you were to think about something very happy, or very sad, you’d be feeling, as you said, not calm”, he steps aside, and looks around, pensative.

“You mean, I should control it by controlling my emotions instead of the magic itself?”.

“Yes. It is difficult and unnecessary to get pissed every time you need fire. But, any other emotion, should be fine. You can even extend to feel more deeply whatever you’re feeling at the moment”.

“That’s… genius, actually”.

“Just a theory. Let’s try it”, he says, and sits on the floor, waiting for you to sit in front of him. You do, and he grabs your hands, back of them against your knees and the palms facing the roof. “Don’t relax. What were you thinking before, when I was counting?”.

“Hm?”, you ask with your eyes already closed, raising your eyebrows.

“Your hands started warming up. You were starting to feel something intense. What was it?”.

“I…”, you try to recall. Oh God. Your face goes red, and you laugh nervously.

“What was it?”.

“I… I don’t know, I was sad I guess”.

“You were… sad, you guess?”, he furrows his brows and tilts his head. “Come on, don’t be embarrassed. I’m not here to judge you”.

“I was anxious”, you say, recalling some other intense emotion that might be wandering around your head. “I have an exam pretty soon and I have only time for this, so I’m anxious about doing poorly”.

“Alright”, he chuckles. “I would say you’ll do fine, but it’s not the point. Close your eyes”.

You do as he says.

“You’ll fail. The exams are falling on your shoulders”, he starts narrating, trying to get you increasingly anxious. Funny thing, you were calm. His tone of voice sounded like he was narrating a tale. “You’re not studying enough. You will fai… alright, this is not working”.

“Nope”.

“Let me think about it for today and we meet tomorrow, same time as every day. Yes?”.

“See you”.

“Today I have something special for you”, he says on the elevator. “I’ve been doing extended research on you”.

“Yes?”, you ask, bemused. He really gives his best on this. He’s possibly the best teacher you’ve had in your entire life. He tries to understand your powers, and he’s almost as clueless about them as you, but he makes it a learning experience anyways. Maybe not even related to your magic, specifically. Emotions. He has accumulated so much knowledge over the centuries, he isn’t going to actually teach you everything. But just a spill of his thoughts is enough for you to learn a lifetime. “You seem to focus so much on me, rather than the magic part. Is that how it’s actually done?”.

“Magic is not magic without you, you see”, he explains. You just noticed he is holding a wooden box. “In order to figure out your powers, I need to figure out your reactions to certain stimuli. When I thought your powers were fear-based, I tried to attack you. Then I saw you did it once you started getting angry”.

“So, you went in there to see how many buttons to push?”.

“To see which ones, and how to push them”, he continues. “Now we have the theory it can be any button, as long as it’s intense. How intense, I’m not sure”.

The elevator opens and you realize where you are. The library. A very silent and uninhabited place; maybe even the least frequented of the compound. Loki’s gaze rests on the wooden box as he places it on the carpeted floor. You sit in front of him, just like last time.

“Today’s button will be nostalgy”, he says, opening the box.

“Is this…?”, you say as you reach for the photographs on the box. There was some old jewelry too, and a very special heart locket with a picture of your grandparents.

“I apologize in advance, this might make you sad. I went to your family’s town looking for some history on you, and this seemed perfect”.

“It’s… it’s okay. This is very… actually, I’ve been meaning to go get these things for a long time now”.

“You pushed them back, because of…”.

“Because I was afraid of getting upset and accidentally burning them”.

“That’s why I’m here holding them too. I put a spell on them. It doesn’t matter how much you burn, they won’t ruin”, he says, and a tear starts forming in the corner of your eye. “If you feel sad, grow on that feeling. Nostalgic, feed it. Happy, push it. Whatever comes, will come well”, he grabs one of your hands and looks you directly in the eyes, emphasizing his words. “Don’t push it back. Don’t be afraid of burning”.

“You’re… amazing. Thank you”, you say, letting the first warm tear roll down your cheek. You start going through the pictures, and Loki’s hand rests on the back of yours, caressing it gently. The tips of your hair are flame-shaped, and your hands are warm, but not hot. Your powers look now like a chimney, a fireplace, a bonfire where kids play with sticks and bake marshmallows. Not like an explosion. Not damaging, not a threat.

He reaches for a strand of your lit up hair and tests how hot it is. It’s not. It doesn’t burn him. It’s like passing a hand around a cloud of smoke.

“Barton, do me a favor”, he calls in a whisper, trying to not lit off your flames. You haven’t realized he was in there too. You hate that guy. “Touch her hair”.

“I’ll get burned, Loki, are you…”.

“Shh, touch it. Look, I’m touching it, it’s not burning me”.

Clint sighs and reaches for a strand of your hair. He quickly pulls back with a scream and his hand in a bright pink. Loki smiles widely.

“What the fuck, man?”.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to…”, you start saying as the flames dissipate, but Loki interrupts you.

“Thank you, Barton. This is golden information”.

“What is it?”, you ask.

“Emotions”, he mutters. “Pure and raw emotions. Dear, oh, dear... You’re interesting”.

It’s been almost a month, and you are now able to control your powers once they’re there. You’re not able to summon them casually and control those, on the other hand. It will be long until Tony Stark allows you to go on a mission with your fire and nothing more.

“Wonderful day, is it not?”, asks Loki from the other side of the room. Your heart skips a beat. He’s grown on you increasingly ever since he started teaching you. Everytime his hands would hold yours to help you find a balance, everytime his eyes would fix on you while you try to concentrate, every little detail he does, he does it caringly. And you are a hopeless romantic, imagining hundreds of scenarios where that careness would turn into something more.

“Yeah, it’s…”, you answer distractedly. Looking out of the window, you realize “wait, it’s raining”.

“Cold, shiverly thunderstorm”, he says with a grin. “Very cold. So cold, I even have to make an extra effort to keep my Jötun form disguised”.

“I thought you hated the thunderstorms. And your Jötun form”, you say. He summons a long coat of about your size and hands it to you.

“Oh, yes. It is a wonderful climate…”, he stretches his hand as if asking you to dance. You take it, laughing. “To make it hot”, his voice turns deeper and raspier. You blush, and in a stutter, ask;

“What do you mean?”.

“Today’s lesson is under the rain. Put on the coat, I don’t want you to catch a cold”.

You follow him without asking any further, and he stands in the middle of the Stark Tower’s roof, looking at the sky.

“I hope we don’t get killed by a lightning blast”.

“I talked to Thor, we should be fine”.

“Oh, right”, you say, and get ready for him to make you cry again, probably. It was the only strong emotion he managed to summon from you so far. “So, which button are you pushing today?”.

“I’m not telling you”.

“Why?”, you ask, and he looks at the sky once again.

“This rain is freezing”, he comments, as if you weren’t under it too. “You can change the temperature of things. Can you change the temperature of the rain?”.

“I don’t know, I’ve never done it”.

“We’re trying that”.

“So that’s what you meant by making it hot”, you nod, and he chuckles.

“Sure”.

You stay in silence, waiting impatiently for him to explain what you should do now. The rain falls violently and has already soaked all your clothes and hair. You have to keep a hand up your head to open your eyes without getting any water on them. Your patience starts wearing thin.

“Why can’t you tell me what you’re…?”.

You would’ve continued the question, but you got the answer faster than you expected. So fast that your lips were still half open, like the words wanted to fall off, but his lips were capturing them in there.

It started as a soft peck; lips pressed together and nothing more. You allow yourself to close your eyes and enjoy it. He feels soft under your lips, as if you kissed a cherry. Just when you think the kiss is ending, he puts his hands on the back of your head and intertwines his fingers with your wet hair. You can feel your cheeks warm up, and not because of your magic. Not intentionally, at least. You allow him to deepen the kiss, and his tongue caresses your bottom lip gently, and then closes on it eagerly. Drops of rain wrapped both of you, but you were no longer shivering. There is a warmness inside of you that wants to escape and infest all coolness around your body. You pull him closer and he lowers a hand all the way from your back to your waist, slowly. His lips are wet from the rain and the kiss, and you keep eating them, almost devouring them. Famished for him.

He pulls away and smiles on your lips. Your eyes are still closed, but you can feel his own face flushed and heated. There is no distance between your bodies, other than the difference of heights.

“You might not need that coat now”, he murmurs against you. You open your eyes and look up.

“The rain’s tepid”, you say, and he doesn’t let you go, not just yet. You extend an arm and feel the cold drops falling a meter away. “Only on us, the rain’s warm”.

“You just heated the rain”, he smiles widely, pride dripping off his words.

“I think this was your accomplishment, rather than mine”.

“I just gave you the means”, and he gets closer once again. “Which I’m flattered of”.

“Flattered for what? You kissed me”.

“Strong emotions”, he says, and finally pulls out of you. The rain around him is still warm, but not so much as seconds ago. He starts walking around. “Your powers answer not only to your emotions, but also to the kind. When you were upset at me, your coffee boiled. When you were afraid, you made an explosion. When you were nostalgic, the same fire that embraced me, burnt Clint’s hand violently. You fire cares for those you care, and defends you from those you don’t trust”.

“Well”, you start to blush. The rain around you went back to cold, and the change made you shiver. “This is awkward”.

“This is great; now we know what your powers do. We can work in controlling them better, but… this is a huge step”, he says, stepping closer. He grabs your hands, and lowers his voice. “And… I got to kiss you”.

“You can kiss me even if it’s not cold, Loki”.

And after a smirk, his lips went back to yours.

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