Fandom Imagines/Preferences

Fire

I tried reading my very first part (Loki Attacks Again) to redo it but, man. I don't know how to salvage something that mangled. So we're going to try the "Fire and Avenger" one instead. Here goes nothing.

Fire. The flames surrounded you gleefully.

Heat. You walked through one burning wall and watched as it crumbled to ash after you.

Smoke. Air came easily to you and you breathed it in, not tasting the acidic taint smoke often leaves.

Fire. You walk down the hall, letting flames leap from your fingers and attack each smiling picture.

Heat. There was a cool breeze coming in through the windows and you wondered briefly where you put your coat after coming home.

Smoke. You heard someone gasping for air, for true air, and not the tainted air you were producing.

Fire produced smoke.

Fire produced heat.

And you produced fire.

You walked into what used to be your living room and looked down at the gasping corpse, hoping for some chance of life. As you watched, the emptiness inside filled with rage and the fire fed on it. You crouched down to inspect the man and held out your hand. Flames ripped out of it, jumping across the small gap to his face and you watched as the man you once thought you loved, died.

You stood up and heard sirens screaming in the night. The sound jolted you back to where you were, to why you were doing this.

Work had been horrendous today: customers were demanding to see managers and that they get a refund, the boss had been on your back all day for something that wasn't your fault, and you were fairly certain that your coworkers were talking about you behind your back. You had been looking forward to coming home and just spending time with your boyfriend, in a peaceful environment where no one was demanding anything.

Instead, you came home to your boyfriend with another girl. The two hadn't even been trying to hide, just there on the couch with their lips locked. You vaguely remembered the shouting match that followed, the harsh words and tears. You didn't remember what happened to the other girl. You didn't remember how you made it to the bedroom or how you lost control.

The sirens sounded again, much closer this time and you were ripped from your memories just in time to realize the problem you had created for yourself. This was going to be impossible to brush over. This wasn't just a kitchen fire. You had completely destroyed a house. And killed at least one person.

Your heart pounding and your mind racing, you ran out of the open doorway just before it collapsed, bring the house down with it. And you didn't stop running.

*Time Skip as you relocate and restart your life (Which note to my younger self, takes longer than 2 months)*

Later that year, you had finally settled into a cute little rental house on the outskirts of New York City. You were working at a Wendy's not too far away and finally had a grasp again on your powers. As long as you didn't get too upset, nothing would burst into flame.

It was a delicate balance, trying to keep calm while working a customer service job, but you managed it. You always tried to stay back in the kitchen, just helping assemble the orders. 

One day, you were asked to manage the register and you agreed, reluctantly. The day had been going fine until closer to the end of your shift when a black man with an eyepatch strolled in. 

"Miss (L/N)?" He asked, addressing you.

"Do I know you?" You replied cautiously. You felt uneasy around him. How did he know your last name?