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imagine-loki · 3 years ago

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Atlas: Enneagram Challenge

TITLE: Atlas: Enneagram Challenge

CHAPTER NO./ONE-SHOT: 5/10

AUTHOR: fanfictrashdump

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki’s life told through the spectrum of enneagram personalities he has had to adopt to survive for each situation. Sleeping At Last’s Enneagram series serves as reference.

RATING: T-M, as we go along

NOTES/WARNINGS: Inspired by the Atlas: Enneagram series by Sleeping At Last, this series will be little vignettes of Loki’s life and the ways he camouflaged his personality to fit what he thought was needed. Language (I think), self-hatred, mentions of injury, surly giant blue boi, and lots of fluff.

SUMMARY: When a counter-curse has unintended effects, Loki has to learn how to come to terms with his true self.

FIVE: THE INVESTIGATOR - intense, cerebral; perceptive, secretive, innovative, and isolated. Soundtrack inspiration—->FIVE

~*~

It had started innocently enough.

After a mission gone awry, Loki had found himself cursed, of all things. He was not in bad shape but there was a distinct aching burn that radiated from his center every time he inhaled. His lungs felt like little sparking embers threatening to catch fire. His discomfort had been obvious enough that it prompted Strange to intervene rather than watch the Asgardian argue that the matter was no big deal.

Strange’s logic was sound–he was going to remove any magic with malicious intent off of Loki and draw the curse into an innocuous vessel to imprison it for eternity. This, in itself, did not set off any alarms for Loki inside his head, though, to be honest, he was desperate for the burn to be gone. It did not occur to him to think that malicious intent might not have been reserved solely for hexes, curses, and general illness, but could include a normal magic done for the wrong reasons.

Say, a glamour?

The moment Stephen finished his spell, the pain in Loki’s lungs abated and he sucked in a grateful breath with his eyes closed. He had never realized how much he liked breathing until then. When his eyelids fluttered open, smile on his face and thanks ready on his tongue, he was shocked to find… well, shock.

Time slowed down, painfully slowed, after that. The moment that followed seemed to last forever.

Stark dropped an Erlenmeyer flask filled with dubiously-colored liquid, smashing on the floor with a crash.

Aurum, who had insisted on the whole affair in the first place, remained passive, or it would have seemed that way, if not for the raising of a solitary eyebrow.

Strange froze, his eyes darting in empty space, as if reviewing the spell in his head. It took him a moment to realize he had not done this. Realization hit him, followed by an emotion that Loki could not quite place that was almost pity but not as condescending. “Oh.”

“W-why is everyone…?”

Loki glanced down and regretted it instantly.

His pale hands had turned a dusky blue and textured lines rose as if to mock him. Evidently, this was the first time they had encountered a Loki that turned this particular shade of azure. He knew that. He knew that the Loki of this universe, the one who had perished violently some time ago, was adopted from Vanaheim.

Like a (nightmarish) deer caught in headlights, Loki froze. Breathing hurt again, but not because he was cursed but for the debilitating squeezes of his heart.

“Lo–“

Before Strange could finish the last syllable, the Jotunn had stepped backward until he was far enough to safely (or so he thought he needed) turn tail and flee.

“Loki!”

He could hear them all calling after him, now, but he would not stop until he was in his quarters, locked safe and sound. He would not feel comfortable until the monster was gone, once more.

There was only one problem…

He couldn’t get the glamour to stick.

For as much as he mocked his universe’s and this one’s Stephen Strange (though, playfully, in this one) for being what he considered a party clown, he was fastidiously thorough. The effects of his counter-curse were so all-encompassing that nothing was working. It made him continue to desperately try to pile on spell after spell in an effort to not look like this–to look normal.

Turns out self-hatred was considered ill intent. He would laugh at the wretchedness of his situation if he was able to assuage the fear in his heart.

Glaring at himself in the mirror, admittedly, was not helping. However, if he wanted to counteract this mess, he needed to catalogue himself, and break down the process in steps. If the universe wanted him to learn about himself, he damn well would. He pulled every book and reference from his personal library, sat himself across the full length mirror and made himself a master of the Jotunn. Maybe if it were many small changes the counter-curse wouldn’t care.

His eyes were… horrifying, he decided. They were an angry shade of red that clashed with his skin but allowed him to see in the dark with incredible accuracy. He could counteract the color with a green coloring spell, or teal, more accurately, to restitute his blue irises. The right shade of orange might work on his skin, but he was more worried as to what to do with the very specific raised lines that identified him as a royal of the Frost Giant race.

Not to mention the horns.

Or the fangs.

Norns, even the plum hue of his gums were making him irritable.

Well, in actuality, he chose to become irritable because the alternative was succumbing to the dread in his heart and crying away the rest of his life force while curled on the floor.

No, irritability was better. Safer. So was the ardent note-taking.

“So…”

Loki flinched at the sound of her voice. He hadn’t even heard her come into his apartment. Then again, she was a spy and her livelihood was made in not alerting others to where she was.

“Does this mean that the toadstool houses are actually enormous or…?”

Loki was unsure what he hated more–the lack of disgust on Aurum’s part or the fact that he understood the reference because it was made in every universe. “I am not a damn smurf.” The words were directed at her, despite not wanting to glance in her direction, opting, instead, for glaring at the surface of the table.

“Are you sure? Because, of all the things I have seen in my life, you are the most similar to a smurf.” She dropped gracelessly in the seat beside him, propping her head on her elbow to watch him resume taking notes. If she minded the way he subtly slid his chair away from her form, she did not show it. For a full minute, Aurum watched him as he awkwardly itched at the patterns on his left arm with his right before her hand covered his.

“Careful!” He sounded like a child upset that another had messed with his carefully arranged house of cards. “You could… you could get burned if I’m not paying attention.”

“High heat?”

“Ultra low heat. Frostbite.” He had yet to look at her, but could feel that calculating look she often had on her face when it came to him. The one that informed him she was translating Lokispeak into actual emotions to understand him better. He heard her hum thoughtfully, her fingers tracing over delicate dimples on the back of his hand.

“Are those scars or natural texture?”

“I think they’re natural.”

“Think?”

He could feel her eyes prodding lovingly at him and it warmed at him more than the temperature spells he had attempted.

“We don’t have a good knowledge of Jotunn physiology and the books in Asgard are horrendously skewed to represent them as monsters. But I was adopted very young. I could have been born this way or it could be a ritual–who knows?” He was momentarily distracted by her other hand brushing at his lips to take a look at his purpled gums and gently prod at his overly sharp canines with her thumb. “You’re going to hurt yourself, Aur.” His tone was exasperated but there was an underlying sentiment of fondness or relief or both.

She was curious about him, even going as far as tilting his head toward her by grabbing his chin. Her golden gaze met his with a spark of amazement.

“But your lashes,” she said in way of defense, fully aware it made no sense. “Loki, your lashes are purple. I’ll risk being a little chilly for that.”

He relented, if only a little, pulling her open palm to his mouth and pressing a kiss to the center whose temperature made her spine tingle. “I’m just trying to keep you safe.”

She smiled, pulling closer until she could rest her forehead to his, giggling quietly at the brush of his horns. “I know you are.” Her hands cupped his jaw, making lazy circles on his cheekbones. “You are the most fascinating creature I’ve ever met.”

“Says the woman whose veins are literally flowing with gold,” he retorted, his voice warm and indulgent.

He wanted to be cross and continue to be the irritable bundle of hatred he was a few minutes prior. He wanted to be self-hating and cruel and bully himself into fitting back into his Asgardian mask. It was hard to want all those things while also wanting to share this part of him with Aurum and her enthusiasm. The fondness when he lightly pressed his lips to hers and she laughed delightedly at the cold was all-consuming. For so long, his mind had been filled with propaganda that he couldn’t see the finer details of his natural features for what they were. Loki could identify every line, dot and hash on his skin, but he couldn’t put into words how it made him shiver when she traced the coronet detailing on his forehead, hidden by his shaggy curls and bracketed by horns. Neither did he know those same horns were velvety and one was slightly crooked, making them look like he had put on his helm askew.

But she did.

She remarked it in quiet, honeyed tones. With fondness and care. She also told him how his hair was the same shade of inky violet as his lashes, and only showed its true color when it caught the light.

After a while, his tender heart could not take more of her lovely praise for tiny details and he kissed her silly. He smiled in earnest as she played with the ends of his hair.

“Stephen feels terrible, by the way. He didn’t think the glamour would give way.”

“It wasn’t his–wait, he knew I had a glamour?”

Aurum nodded, kissing him just under the jaw where his heart beat ever slower than when he was in his other form. “According to him, every version of you is adopted in one way or another. It is reasonable to think that species that don’t necessarily look like us might have been included in the mix.” She winced, then, the words feeling heavy on her before she even said them. “He didn’t think the glamour would be cast with bad intentions, though. That’s why he feels bad. It felt like he was overstepping his bounds.”

“And Stark?”

A bark of laughter left her. “Tony shorted out because he thought you looked hot and he couldn’t comprehend why his mind betrayed him.”

“He’s not wrong, though.” She hesitated a moment, something very much unlike her. “Would you mind if I helped with your notes? I think it’s important that we have better resources than whatever the fuck these are.”

He nodded, somehow now enthused by the prospect of learning about himself. When he attempted the glamour, later, it took on the first try.

~*~

It had started innocently enough.

Say, a glamour?

Time slowed down, painfully slowed, after that. The moment that followed seemed to last forever.

Stark dropped an Erlenmeyer flask filled with dubiously-colored liquid, smashing on the floor with a crash.

Aurum, who had insisted on the whole affair in the first place, remained passive, or it would have seemed that way, if not for the raising of a solitary eyebrow.

“W-why is everyone…?”

Loki glanced down and regretted it instantly.

Like a (nightmarish) deer caught in headlights, Loki froze. Breathing hurt again, but not because he was cursed but for the debilitating squeezes of his heart.

“Lo–“

Before Strange could finish the last syllable, the Jotunn had stepped backward until he was far enough to safely (or so he thought he needed) turn tail and flee.

“Loki!”

He could hear them all calling after him, now, but he would not stop until he was in his quarters, locked safe and sound. He would not feel comfortable until the monster was gone, once more.

There was only one problem…

He couldn’t get the glamour to stick.

Turns out self-hatred was considered ill intent. He would laugh at the wretchedness of his situation if he was able to assuage the fear in his heart.

Not to mention the horns.

Or the fangs.

Norns, even the plum hue of his gums were making him irritable.

Well, in actuality, he chose to become irritable because the alternative was succumbing to the dread in his heart and crying away the rest of his life force while curled on the floor.

No, irritability was better. Safer. So was the ardent note-taking.

“So…”

Loki flinched at the sound of her voice. He hadn’t even heard her come into his apartment. Then again, she was a spy and her livelihood was made in not alerting others to where she was.

“Does this mean that the toadstool houses are actually enormous or…?”

“Careful!” He sounded like a child upset that another had messed with his carefully arranged house of cards. “You could… you could get burned if I’m not paying attention.”

“High heat?”

“Are those scars or natural texture?”

“I think they’re natural.”

“Think?”

He could feel her eyes prodding lovingly at him and it warmed at him more than the temperature spells he had attempted.

She was curious about him, even going as far as tilting his head toward her by grabbing his chin. Her golden gaze met his with a spark of amazement.

“But your lashes,” she said in way of defense, fully aware it made no sense. “Loki, your lashes are purple. I’ll risk being a little chilly for that.”

He relented, if only a little, pulling her open palm to his mouth and pressing a kiss to the center whose temperature made her spine tingle. “I’m just trying to keep you safe.”

“Says the woman whose veins are literally flowing with gold,” he retorted, his voice warm and indulgent.

But she did.

After a while, his tender heart could not take more of her lovely praise for tiny details and he kissed her silly. He smiled in earnest as she played with the ends of his hair.

“Stephen feels terrible, by the way. He didn’t think the glamour would give way.”

“It wasn’t his–wait, he knew I had a glamour?”

“And Stark?”

A bark of laughter left her. “Tony shorted out because he thought you looked hot and he couldn’t comprehend why his mind betrayed him.”

He nodded, somehow now enthused by the prospect of learning about himself. When he attempted the glamour, later, it took on the first try.

#Loki #Lover #Angst #Submitted fic #Atlas: Enneagram Challenge #chapter 5 #fanfictrashdump

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imagine-loki · 3 years ago

Text

Atlas: Enneagram Challenge

TITLE: Atlas: Enneagram Challenge

CHAPTER NO./ONE-SHOT: 3/10

AUTHOR: fanfictrashdump

RATING: T-M, as we go along

NOTES/WARNINGS: Inspired by the Atlas: Enneagram series by Sleeping At Last, this series will be little vignettes of Loki’s life and the ways he camouflaged his personality to fit what he thought was needed. Language, implied smut, depictions of blood and gore, death, attempted kidnapping, a raging Loki who just realized he had feelings, and a Tony who can’t take blood and guts.

SUMMARY: The desire to redeem himself and change his perceived fate can sometimes lead Loki to alienate himself from those he holds dear. Or, Loki shouldn’t let Mobius in his head, anymore, not when he has her.

THREE: THE ACHIEVER - success-oriented, pragmatic; adaptive, excelling, driven, image-conscious. Soundtrack inspiration –> THREE

~*~

You weren’t born to be king, Loki. You were born to cause pain and suffering and death. That’s how it is, that’s how it was, that is how it will be.

The words echoed in his head as he scrubbed back and forth through the memories on the projector. He rewound the movie and watched every grueling, painful second of failure after failure after failure. The highlight reel was, thankfully, not as crisp and clear as the theater in the TVA. There was something muddled about how the image looked. Like it was somehow being viewed through a fog of thoughts, which checked out, seeing as these were his memories he was viewing.

Overhead, the AI reminded him that he had been in the theater for six hours and that maybe it was time to stretch and take a walk. Loki briefly wondered if the AI used (and was successful) at using those reminders with Stark. Considering the level of advancement in this Universe compared to the one he had originally come from, it was a coin toss. Stark either obsessed harder and managed to do more or he occasionally had a few hours of sleep that refreshed his brain. Either way, the man’s mania ended with Loki having access to technology that allowed him to link his memories, specifically the ones he had of the TVA, onto a screen so that he could torture himself for a few extra hours a day.

The practice was becoming a regular occurrence that he had not intended to sign up for. This form of self-flagellation was both useless and tiring but he couldn’t help but succumb to wanting the pain. Was he truly born to cause pain and suffering? Sure, Mobius had said it in an effort to manipulate him the same way everyone manipulated him. He knew that, deep down, the man probably didn’t think that Loki could be that evil.

It didn’t mean that the end goal was ever any different. The images on the screen were proof.

He needed to be better.

Loki had thought that escaping his other’s, Sylvie’s, crutches was a tragedy. The Fates laughed in his face at that thought. It really turned out to be a blessing. She had cared only for her own plans for revenge; he was merely a pawn in the battle strategy. As much as he wanted to argue that he had touched her in some way, softened her soul, it simply was not true. He had been blasted to Kingdom Come and another reality because he let his guard down.

Once he had gotten past the shock, the heartbreak, it was easy enough to escape this alternate TVA. Mobius thought he was an analyst, anyway, so finding the resources needed for him to jump into another timeline was child’s play. Armed with nothing but his wits and a flaming sword, Loki had run to the only place he could think of–the Avengers.

Endearing himself to the group of heroes was difficult. Loki expected as much; he was untrustworthy in every universe. The Avengers were different, though. Rogers was not Rogers. The wizard lived in the Tower and not the Sanctum. There were multiple Widows but no Barton. Stark… well, Stark is Stark in any and every Universe, he supposed. And it was annoyingly comforting that he felt familiar.

Then there was her.

He had no idea what to make of her. She was everything Loki was not–brash, impulsive, careless, carefree, Stark’s best friend. Within five minutes of meeting him, she had decided he was no more a threat than any other man on the street, which was more than a bit insulting. She had shrugged and let him inside the building, calling Stark over her shoulder to attend to the matter before going wherever it was she hid during the day.

In battle, she was aggressive and direct. There was little strategy other than don’t die and she knew little of boundaries. Loki wanted to hate her approach, and how it reminded him a little too much of Thor in his younger years. The keyword being wanted. He had yet to be successful.

After a decidedly battering mission, they all huddled in the jet, assessing their status.

Loki found himself staring at how the fluorescent lights reflected off her dark skin while she joked with Barnes that the melanin helped disguise the bruises to both her body and her ego. There was a sudden pull of his right hand, making Loki start. She had laid his hand on her lap and was picking glass out of the several dozen divots in his palm with a set of tweezers. No warning, no question, no regard for personal space.

No way for him to look away.

He wasn’t entirely sure how they had ended up tangled in bed if he was honest. Most likely, it was one of those moments where she said something witty or challenging and he had a knee-jerk reaction to snap back. To offer a reason. To explain, because surely she could not be so naïve.

No one had ever tried to fuck with him just for the fun of it, before. No one had ever been that stupid.

The playfulness and lack of expectation in her manner of treating him, no matter the circumstance, made something inside him crack and crumble. Especially now, in their safe-house. He was at the watch station, the scope of a gun acting as his binoculars from where she, Aurum, had set up her nest. However, the second he had been sent up to her position, he had taken over the post with a bullheadedness that rivaled his brother’s, any day. Amused rather than annoyed, she allowed him to take over, leaving her to toss mini marshmallows at his head while he kept watch. He was more irritated at the fact that she was so at ease with him in such close quarters than he was at her tossing things in his direction.

One projectile caught the barest corner of his eye and the sound of irritation that came afterward was something that might have left Alligator Loki. “Would you stop? I am trying to do my job!”

She rolled her eyes, leaning back so that her chair balanced on two legs. “We’re just observing, Loki, not defusing a bomb. You can relax.”

He wanted to bark back that there was no time for relaxing. That he could relax when he was dead, again. And he almost did before she cut across, again, her brow adorably furrowed in what he might have seen as concern.

“You know you can relax, right? That’s why they gave us an easy job. You need to take a breather.”

Though he knew what all the words meant, they did not make sense being directed at him. “What?” He prayed that he had misunderstood and was able to lay his irritation to rest.

“I asked the others to give you the watch with me because you haven’t slept in six days.”

So, he hadn’t misunderstood. “Why would you do that?”

She balked, blinking several times as if processing the words. “Because. You haven’t slept in six days. You need rest.” Aurum had immediately known that was the wrong answer. Along with the clenched jaw, she could almost make out the faint wisps of emerald smoke drifting off him–that only seemed to happen when he was none too pleased and losing his grip on his emotions.

“You thought I’d get someone killed, didn’t you?”

His voice was poisoned honey and she knew it. She couldn’t care less. “Yes. Yourself.”

Loki stilled. The retort dancing on his tongue fizzling out into nothingness. He was going to demand an explanation about why she didn’t think he was good enough for the job or if it was just the fact that she didn’t trust him. To find that it was concern for him was… unsettling. She seemed to think nothing of his confusion as she continued.

“Loki, you’ve been on for weeks. Back-to-back missions, research, recon, gathering intel… You’re not a one-man team. And while I thoroughly enjoy the chaos you bring into my bedroom that also isn’t rest as much as a distraction.”

His heart urged him to speak, to disagree. To talk about the calm he felt while he was panting on her bedsheets, trying to catch his breath. Of the soft way she carded her fingers through his hair when worry wrinkled his forehead. How he wanted nothing more than to succumb to the desire of curling up in bed for hours with nothing but kisses and small talk to distract them. That rolling around the sheets with her was the most rest he had gotten in thousands of years. Instead, Mobius invaded his mind. You were born to cause pain and suffering and death.

And he wanted none of those things for her.

Stiffly, he turned back to the scope, ignoring the hurt expression plastered on her features for the good of them all. “We have work to do.”

“There’s nothing to do. They’re lurking. They’ll lurk here for another hour or so before quieting down for the night, the same as they’ve done for the past week.”

Loki’s jaw ticked as he fought against grinding his teeth. “Forgive me if I want to double-check your intel. You’re so easily distractible, as it were.”

Aurum scoffed, pelting him with one last marshmallow with an unnatural force that nearly almost stung. It wasn’t until he heard the door slam shut that he noticed that she had left in a huff.

Curse those spies with their light feet.

Loki bit his tongue. A sour taste invaded his mouth and made his stomach turn over. He understood what she was trying to do. Truly, he did, but it was hard for him to accept the help. It was nearly impossible for him to accept the caring nature of her silent deeds and not immediately feel like he was taking advantage of her. Had he somehow tricked her into caring for him? Mobius had called him a narcissist once. Was this just his natural ability to make people succumb to his will? To make it all about him? What was–

“No. No no no no,” Loki chanted under his breath as he watched her stalk down the street, muttering to herself and hands in her jacket pockets, walking straight for trouble.

From what he could tell through the scope, she hadn’t noticed the figures hidden in the shadows, just out of the view of the street. But they sure had seen her and were staring at her with great interest.

“Don’t make her. Don’t make her. Don’t make her. Don’t make h–“ He watched one of the thugs nudge his buddy in the ribs and gesture to her with his head. They nodded in agreement and started after her. The one leading reached out, put a hand over her mouth, and pulled her backward into the alley.

Loki lifted a hand to activate his comms, already halfway across the room and a second from wrenching the door open. “Aurum’s been made.”

Tony’s voice crackled over the comms. “What? She’s Spec Ops and you’re on a stakeout. How?”

He took the stairs by twos, hoping his legs would carry him quickly enough from the sixth floor to the ground. “That’s not important right now, Anthony!”

Tony muttered a choice string of profanities before adding. “Sit tight, we’ll be there in 60 seconds.”

“I’m already on my way!”

“Loki, you’re not supposed to be here. Fall back!”

Loki crashed through the stairwell exit and across the lobby to the street. “It’s my fault and she can’t wait!”

Armed with a dagger in each hand, he gleefully breached the alley.

The duo had grown in numbers in the short time it took him to appear. Aurum was fighting off two men twice her size, sparkling golden blood trickling down the corner of her mouth from her cut lip. He sighed in barely restrained relief at seeing her alive and upright. But his relief was immediately marred by the vivid scarlet his vision was flooded with; by the sheer anger of thinking that someone would ever think to put a hand on what he held precious.

His first dagger found its home in soft flesh and flowing blood. The second did not wait much longer to be similarly homed. Blind rage. It was the purest form of anger he had ever allowed himself to experience. He barely had any restraint. He was not looking to disarm, he was looking to tear them apart, limb from limb. He would not be her destruction, today.

Forty-two seconds later, Tony and Strange had arrived at the scene. They skidded to a halt, faces morphing from determination to abject horror at the pile of bodies in the alley. Genius and doctor scrubbed the floor for signs of their team before their eyes fell just a few feet away, deeper in the alley, resting against the wall. A blood-soaked Loki was on his knees, clinging onto Aurum’s hips as his salty tears wetted her equally soiled t-shirt. She looked halfway surprised and elated that this was how he had reacted after sparing no morsel of anger just a few minutes prior.

After the shock settled, Stephen sighed, crossing his arms over his chest and trying his very hardest not to sound like a chiding school teacher. “Not that we don’t appreciate you keeping her safe, but… how are we going to get information out of corpses, Loki?”

Tony made a quarter turn and promptly threw up, waving a weak I’m fine at the team.

“One got away,” Aurum whispered, stroking her hand through Loki’s hair. He nuzzled into her stomach and sighed.

“And that helps us, how, exactly?”

Loki lifted his head and wiped at his eyes, succeeding only at leaving a grotesque red mask over them. He sat back on his heels to take a breath. “I slipped a bug in his pocket.” He dug through his own pocket for the Stark device beeping within and tossed it over. “It’s active. He’ll go to the HYDRA base, most likely. Report back.”

Stephen looked suitably impressed. “Clever.” He raised his eyes at Aurum. “Have you tried, just, dosing him with Nyquil? Seriously, you know the man can’t relax, voluntarily. Just knock him out.”

She shot him a crooked half-smile. “Will do, Doc.”

Tony scrunched his face in confusion. “Wait, what? What am I missing? Why her?”

“Never mind, Tony. Let’s go. Jet is in the back.” Stephen stared at Loki just a second longer. “You did good. Good job.”

The acknowledgment brought a smile to Loki’s face. If he could keep it up, he would certainly make a positive impact on this world. He could do so much to help these people.

His reverie broke with another slow stroke of his hair. Loki looked up, eyes widened and glossy, as if he were staring at a wonder of the world.

“You always do well. Even when you have nothing to show for it,” she added, offering her hands to help him to his feet. “There’s nothing you need to prove.”

He accepted her hands, clambering up to his feet with a sheepish smile. Inside, he mulled over her words.

Maybe, just maybe, he could believe them for now.

Maybe today was not the day he brought death and destruction.