#bumblebeeped

The first time you visited Asgard you were blown away by it. The colours, the people, heck, even the damn cobblestones seemed magnificent. It was all so much brighter than you were used to. Growing up, you’ve lived in your family home, passed on from generation to generation. It’s a dark and depressing house that somehow always manages to press onto your lungs, trying to suffocate the soul out of you. You were so used to the darkness that when you travelled to Asgard with your family it felt as if you could for the first time breathe properly.

Perhaps the earliest thing you remember in your life is the portrait in the living room. The windows are tall, yet the sunlight never seemed to reach the room inside, always casting the house in an eerie shadow. You remember sitting on the stool, having been told to stay still. Afraid to move. Afraid of the consequences of  disobeying your mother. Theodore, your older brother, towering beside you, your mother’s hand on your shoulder. A predator setting its claws in its prey. 

It’s been that way your whole life. Always staying in Theodore’s shadow — which you didn’t mind, really, because it meant your mother’s focus was on him and not on you. That didn’t let you off the hook completely, though. No, your mother has always been breathing down your neck about proper behaviour and the future and what you should and shouldn’t do. Your father isn’t much better; a figure you rarely see and when you do it is just to agree with your mother and remind you of the future legacy.

Suffice to say you desperately needed to get away. Theodore was to be wed to some lady of Asgard and the pressure was now on you to find a bride of your own as well. As if you’d ever let that happen. He suggested to your parents that he would take you to an Asgardian ball coming up and take the opportunity to introduce you to his fiancé. Somehow, your parents let you two go alone. Thank the gods. The last thing you needed was your parents hanging over your shoulder all night.

Magnificent. 

Magical. 

Absolutely, impossibly, beautiful. 

The only words you could describe Asgard with. The golden city is glittering in the setting sun. You don’t even mind that it blinded you. Your breath is knocked out of you every time you see it — as if you’re gazing upon it for the very first time. You and Theodore made your way down the rainbow bridge, swallowed by the sea of revellers also wanting a taste of the Asgardian castle. You were clothed in the finest suit you owned, black fabric hugging your frame and trying desperately to avoid the other people. You scowled as an intoxicated woman brushed up against your arm, almost spilling her entire drink. 

“Watch it,” you snapped. She gave you a dark glare and turned to leave, quickly getting lost in the crowd

“Bastard.”

Theodore rolled his eyes. “Would it really be too much to ask for you to not act like an asshole tonight?”

You gave him a sideways glance, cocking your head. He just sighed and urged his feet forward. It wasn’t that you hated being here — you would much rather attend a ball than stay in that awful house another second. But that didn’t mean you were happy to be here — it isn’t your life. This was sunlight and glamour and blooming flowers in the spring. You were rain and quiet and a book on an autumn afternoon. 

Besides, there was a particular man you were hoping to avoid. You didn’t need tonight to get any worse.

You passed the gates, your head thrown back admiring the walls. They really liked gold, huh? Your brother tugged on your sleeve, urging you forward. 

“Why in such a hurry, brother dearest?”

He chose to bite back his reply, knowing you couldn’t help yourself. One day that tongue of yours was bound to get you in trouble. He led you through the giant doors, held open to welcome the stream of guests. Flowing gowns, extravagant costumes, silken robes: they were all a blur of colour in the great hall. It stretched down opposite the great doors, ending in a golden throne. God, these people really were excessive.

The floor was a shining mix of white marble and golden threads that stretched to the walls and climbed upwards, towards the roof. If you looked closely, you could see the golden threads shining faintly and moving very slowly, as if the dancing gave life to them. An easy illusion, you could clearly determine, but a beautiful one for the simpler eye. 

Theodore started down the hall, pushing his way through the dancing crowds. You hurried after him, afraid you’d lose him in the blurring colours if you stood still for too long. That wouldn’t be the worst thing, though, you realised. 

This really wasn’t your scene. You usually felt like a black spot in the midst of movement, a token misplaced, compared to every other gentleman in the halls. A shadow hiding in a dark corner. But not tonight. Tonight, it felt as if a hundred eyes were fixated on you, watching your every move. You threw a glance over your shoulder, trying to ease the fear of someone staring at you. It didn’t go away.

Theodore was leading you towards the throne. Oh, no. That’s the completely wrong way you wanted to be walking. You tried to signal Theodore, but he ignores you and keeps walking. God, he’s stubborn. It’s too late now anyway. You could feel the eyes of Odin, king of Asgard, on the two of you, approaching with raised chins and well-kept smiles. 

“Welcome, honoured guests!” His smile was wide and his eyes alight with amusement. Despite the warm exterior you couldn’t help but shiver at his penetrating gaze. Something about him put you off. “Theodore y/l/n, I am delighted you could attend tonight’s ball.” His eyes shifted to you. “And I see you brought a guest.”

“Oh, yes, this is my younger brother, y/n.” Theodore bowed his head at Odin. Beside him, stood Frigga, the Queen of Asgard, who nodded back. “I wanted to introduce him to my betrothed — with your permission, of course.”

You shot a sideways glance at him. Who even was this bride?

“Of course,” Odin’s voice boomed. He gestured to a guard and muttered something in his ear, who in turn bowed deeply, almost touching his toes. 

You rolled your eyes. The disgusting ass-kissing apparently wasn’t excluded from the halls of Asgard. A lady came forwards, taking your brother’s arm and smiling up at him. You cocked an eyebrow.

“y/n, this is my betrothed, Cassandra,” said Theodore. She smiled at you, offering you her hand. You glared at it but didn’t make any effort to take it. Your brother cleared his throat at her faltering smile. “I am so happy you finally have the chance to meet.”

“I am too,” said Cassandra. “Theo’s told me so much about you, y/n.”

You crossed your arms, glancing at your brother, knowing fully well that all you had known about her before this day was that she was a woman. “Yeah, you too.” 

Theodore bent down to Cassandra’s ear and whispered something you couldn’t and frankly didn’t have any interest in hearing. She left with a small smile, her sage gown fluttering behind her. 

“What the hell was that?” hissed Theodore. “Can’t you behave for more than one minute?”

“I don’t know, can I?” You raised an eyebrow defiantly at him. He gave you a flat look and you threw your arms out in exasperation. “Come on, I greeted her, I talked to her — what more do you want from me?”

“You barely said more than two words to her!” Theodore pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “You didn’t even try.”

You gave him a flat look. “I didn’t need to try to know I don’t like her.”

Theodore’s gaze pinned you to the spot. You looked away from it, trying to ease the squirming feeling. “This is important, y/n, not just another childish game.”

“I am offended by that.” Another look. You rolled your eyes. “Fine, I’ll try.” At that exact moment, Cassandra returned to her spot beside your brother.

She fixed you with a look, tilting her head. “If you keep rolling your eyes like that they will get stuck. We wouldn’t want you gazing into the back of your head for the rest of your life, would we?” she said, a smirk on her face.

Your eyes widened, glancing between her and your brother. He smiled, giving you a knowing look. Your smirk grew as you leaned forward. “And why wouldn’t we want that, m’lady?”

“Then you wouldn’t be able to see my punch coming.” She pouted, but her eyes shone with amusement. “Not really a fair fight, is it?”

You chuckled, leaning back on your heels. “Maybe I do like this one, after all.”

“What did I tell you, brother?” laughed Theodore. You dipped your head, smiling.

“Yes, yes, you were right—“

Your words faltered when the princes of Asgard walked into the hall, every eye turning to them. Thor, his blonde hair almost glowing in the fiery light, a charming smile on his face, walked towards the throne. He shot every person he passed a wide grin. Beside him walked his younger brother — the menace, as you liked to call him. His dark hair slicked back in loose curls, framed his green eyes. A thin smirk played on his lips as he made his way towards you, and when his eyes found yours you could see the mischievous glint in them. You let out a deep sigh and had to fight the urge to roll your eyes at his growing grin. Smug bastard. 

“Father, mother,” announced Thor, bowing slightly at the king and queen, his brother following suit. He turned to your brother and Cassandra with a smile. “My lord, my lady.”

Theodore clasped Thor’s forearm, bringing him into a hug. He muttered a few words into the other man’s ear, to which he smiled. You rolled your eyes.

“I don’t see why I am required to be stuck here with a far from desirable company.”

“Pleased to see you too, my dear y/n,” drawled Loki from his spot beside Thor. You mouthed an ‘I hate you’ before raising an expectant eyebrow at your brother. 

Theodore rolled his eyes. “Brother, you know the whole reason why you’re even here.”

Loki’s ears perked, suddenly standing up straighter. “Oh, is there some delicious y/n drama I hear? Pray tell, darling.”

“Shut up,” you warned Theodore, sending a glare to him. You’ve never felt a connection with women, no matter how beautiful or quick-witted or intelligent. None of them made you feel that spark, that fiery feeling you knew should be in your chest. Something to make you desire them, want them. You wanted to feel it — so badly. Your brother didn’t know it, but you knew you would never find a suitable wife.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Loki, leaning back on his elbows against the throne, a confident smirk on his lips. He wasn’t wearing his usual gold and green armour but had opted for a subtler dark green suit with gold accents, the laces open at the collar. The firelight from a nearby chandelier danced across his face, shading the edges of his jaw. Your eyes jumped between his features, drinking in the collected demeanour on his face, his cool gaze turning to you.

Your eyes immediately turned away, feeling your cheeks start to burn. Wait, why were you flustered? You’ve never particularly liked Loki. He was stubborn and arrogant and infuriating. He always knew exactly what buttons to push to get you enraged. Your relationship was strictly confined to petty remarks, rude comments about one another and endless teasing banter. You couldn’t change that because of some idiotic emotions. 

Thor walked up the dais to the throne, a woman by his side. He introduced her as Jane Foster, the person he was courting. Odin gave him a look you couldn’t decipher before his eyes turned to Loki. The orchestra started playing a lively waltz, the music curling around every person in the room.

“Loki, you should follow your brother’s lead,” said Odin, “Find yourself a partner.” You didn’t miss the glance Loki sent your way at those words. 

“Actually, I would rather not,” he drawled, rolling his eyes. “I much prefer the life of an available man. Settling down is much too, what’s the word? Boring. Besides, there is nobody fitting enough for me.”

Thor tried and failed to hold in a snort. You raised a questioning eyebrow his way but he only responded with a half-committed shrug. Odin’s eyes darkened. 

“You’re Asgard Royalty, the future of this kingdom. You have to act the part.” said the king.

Frigga put a hand on her husband’s arm. “Do not be so hard on him, he is still very young.”

“At least find yourself a partner to dance with,” Odin sighed in exasperation.

Loki pushed himself from his elbows, straightening. He let out a dry chuckle, but his eyes were fixated on you as he gritted out a choked, “Fine.” He walked towards you, extending his hand with expectation in his gaze. 

Your eyes widened as the realisation hit of what he was indicating. What was he thinking? “Loki, I—“ you managed to force out but trailed off from lack of words.

“Come on, don’t you just stand there staring, love, at least try to move your feet.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose, letting out an exasperated sigh. “If you think everyone’s watching you, they’re not — they’re watching me.”

You sent him a tight smile. “Charming.”

“Only for you, darling.” He gazed at you through his lashes, a confident smirk on his lips, and his palm outstretched. Your eyes tried to find Theodore’s, or even Thor’s, but they were both gone with their respective partner. You sighed and placed your hand in Loki’s, somewhat reluctantly, and let yourself be led towards the edge of the dance floor. His fingers closed over yours, guiding you to where it should be placed over his shoulder, letting his hand wrap around your waist. He took the first steps of the dance, guiding you with him. 

You studied his face, examining the way his eyes glinted in the firelight. They were as amused as ever, the exact picture of mischievousness. If eyes were the windows to the soul then you had a pretty good idea of what his soul looked like. His smirk was as charming as ever, tongue as quick, yet you could not determine the change in him. Why would he suddenly disrupt 

You tilted your head to the side ever so slightly, narrowing your eyes. “Why would you do that?”

“Do what?” questioned Loki, innocence lacing his words.

“Don’t act all innocent now, Loki,” you spit out between gritted teeth. “Asking me to dance — what were you thinking?”

He rolled his eyes. “I was thinking I wanted to dance with you.”

“Why?”

“Do I need a reason?”

“When you have spent your whole life despising me, then yes. You always have a reason.”

Loki sighed, leaning closer to your ear. “I have never despised you, love.”

He leaned into you, hesitating before pressing a light kiss to your cheek and letting you go, turning to walk away. You stood there, breath hitched and a bit dazed from the interaction. What the fuck just happened? What was the meaning of that? People continued to dance around you, their colourful clothing a big contrast to yours. You hurried off the dance floor, trying to spot Loki’s dark frame. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a green glimmer disappearing into one of the halls. Your eyes narrowed. There was no doubt it was him. You took off, walking with determined strides towards the doors. The hall was darker and a lot quieter than the main hall, the silence almost suffocating. Only the occasional note or laugh seeped through the strong oak doors. 

Your eyes roamed the shadows beside you, all too aware of Loki’s ability to disappear whenever it pleased him. 

“Loki,” you called out, even though you knew there would be no reply. 

Your feet took you down the marble floor, every step too loud in your ears. There was no sign of him. You felt your cheeks burn, embarrassed and furious — a dangerous combination. Of course, he would toy with you, with your feelings. You knew Loki better than to expect anything less from him. God, how could you have been so stupid?

Loki would have it coming. He will have something coming, you just didn’t know what, yet. He may be a god, but you were a vengeful man with way too much time on your hands. 

Without a second thought, you set off to the gardens. It was the only place you were going to be left alone tonight. The cold air hit your flushed skin, furiously trying to cool it down. You took off your jacket and unbuttoned the few top buttons to quickly lower your temperature. Asgard’s palace may be beautiful, but it attracted the warmth too quick for your liking. 

Your breath fogged in front of you and despite yourself, you let out a chuckle. Either it is too cold or too warm — nature was never happy.

“You will become sick like that.”

You spun on your feet, standing face to face with Loki. The moon lit up his face in an entirely different way than the firelight did. His jaw sharper. His eyes too cunning. His skin like a pale ghost waiting to haunt you after its death. You let out a breath, shaking your head.

“What do you want, Loki?” 

He tilted his head, his hands in the pocket of his pants. His gaze was almost… amused? “I don’t want you sick.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.” You turned away from him, instead opting to admire the landscape around you. A large tree stood a few feet from you, its branches reaching for the sky like drowning hands in a lake. 

“Is it not obvious?” he asked as you turned around to face him again.

You sighed with exasperation, rolling your eyes. “No, it is not obvious, Loki. You are toying with me. I know we don’t get along well but messing with my emotions is over the line.”

“Yes, I know, I’m so—” Loki cut himself off, his eyes narrowing. He opened his mouth but promptly shut it. “Your emotions?”

You realised what you had said and immediately turned your gaze away. “No. No emotions. What are emotions? You have emotions.”

Loki chuckled, walking closer to you. “Is there something you wish to tell me?” he asked with a growing smile, furrowing his brows. You continued to avoid his gaze, shaking your head. His hand cupped your chin, tipping it so you were forced to meet his eyes. “Are you sure?”

You were about to deny all claims when a thought made itself known, causing you to smirk at him. “Actually, I think you have something to tell me. Wasn’t it you who so desperately wanted to have a dance with me? Who kissed me?”

This time it was Loki’s time to blush, eyes lingering on your lips before diverting to the sky. His hand began to slip from your cheek but you caught it before it did, bringing it to its place again. You smiled reassuringly at him, meeting his eyes again. Slowly, you leaned in, hesitating halfway when he had made no sign to move. Despite yourself, your thoughts began to run wild. 

Had you read the interaction wrong? Maybe he actually did want nothing to do with you. How could you even begin to explain a situation like this? Gods, he was really going to hate you after this. You sighed and tried to step backwards, but Loki’s hands suddenly firm grip on your collar pushed you forwards — into him. 

Your lips met his, soft and fierce at the same time. You closed your eyes, bringing your hand to the nape of his neck, pushing him closer to you. The kiss was everything you would expect from Loki. It was gentle but challenged you. He pushed you and you pushed back, just as hard. His hands snaked around your neck and began to slowly push you backwards. You felt your back hit the trunk of the tree, rather hard, and a breath escaped you at the impact. Loki pulled away, his eyes roaming your face, lingering on your lips. A laugh escaped him, causing him to fall against you.

“Who would have thought? The cold and ruthless God of Mischief turned into a giggling moron just for me.” You shook your head, chuckling and bringing your arms around him to hug him closer.

He pulled away to glance at you, dismay clear on his features. “Giggling moron? And this is coming from the idiot who can’t stop blushing every five minutes.”

You scoffed. “Not very polite for a prince, huh?”

“Well, what can I say? You bring out the impoliteness in me,” smiled Loki, bringing you in for another kiss. His lips trailed down your neck, sucking and biting at every piece of skin he could reach. Your hands found his hair, your head thrown back to give him better access. He was truly divine. And to think you had thought him so awful only hours before. To be fair, he was still an arrogant asshole — but a hot one at that.

You let out a low moan, something that seemed to make Loki only more motivated. You could feel yourself getting more aroused by the second and you swear that the two of you would have done it if it weren’t for two guards entering the gardens, chatting among themselves. Loki sighed against you, waiting until the footsteps of the guards had disappeared. 

They had been completely oblivious to the two of you, hidden beneath the shadows of the tree’s branches. A chuckle escaped your lips, meeting Loki’s gaze already on you.

“What?” you asked, brows furrowed.

He tried to hide his smile, averting his eyes. “Just— you’re so beautiful.” Your cheeks began to burn furiously and you tried to brush off the compliment as nothing. It only made Loki’s smile grow. “See, there you go blushing again.”

You gave him a deadpan look. “You’re one to talk, pretty boy.”

“I think I preferred giggling moron.” He took your hand in his and started to lead you into the palace. Thankfully, no guards were on duty in the halls you walked. It may not have been luck so much as Loki knowing exactly what routes would be guard-free. 

“You sure you wouldn’t want to take this night in another direction?” asked Loki, leaning against the wall with your hands in his. 

“As much as I would want to, my dear brother is probably driving himself insane searching for a lady to suit me,” you said with a roll of your eyes. Loki remained quiet, fiddling with your fingers. “What? Don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

Loki scoffed, very clearly offended. “I am certainly not envious of some simple minded fool!”

Your eyes widened, a surprised laugh escaping you. “Oh my lord, you definitely are!” You took his hands and began to kiss his knuckles. “Do not worry, you’re the only asshole for me.”

He tried to hide his smile and turned to the door. “You’re terrible,” he muttered, opening the door and holding it for you.

You smiled — he made a point of avoiding your gaze — and leaned in to whisper in his ear as you passed, “Only for you, my darling.”

He took hold of your wrist, stopping your tracks. "I lied," he said. When you gave him a clueless look he cleared his throat. "When I said no one was looking at you, I lied. I was looking at you. I've always been looking at you, y/n."

Maybe getting involved with the God of Mischief wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all, you thought with a smile.

“Strange!”

Your voice echoed through the halls of the temple of Kamar-Taj, your tone filled with annoyance. You rushed out of the room, a book clasped in your hand and a stern expression planted on your face. Your footsteps sounded against the wooden floor as you walked through the long hallway of the dormitory. Several doors were open, revealing the sorcerers inside the rooms, either resting or meditating.

As the hallway took a turn you came to a halt, right outside Doctor Stephen Strange’s room. His door stood slightly ajar, revealing his form sitting cross-legged on the floor, a book laid open in front of him, his deep red cloak levitating in the air. You pushed the door, letting your figure silently slip into the room.

On one end of the room, the wall opposite from the door, stood a bed, not bothered to have been made, and a small table next to it, adorned with a lamp and a few books. At the end of the bed stood a desk, books cluttering it and pages thrown on the surface. A small window broke the wooden wall, casting light and warmth into the room. On the wall furthest to the left stood a door, leading into a separate room that served as a bathroom.

Strange had his eyes closed and his hands in front of him, bathing in the silence and deeply focused. You took this moment to appreciate his appearance, something that was very rare, considering he was always on the move. His face expressed peacefulness, as his torso lifted and sank with each breath, stretching the deep blue robes he was wearing. Strange’s hair laid perfectly over his head, the sides displaying a faint silver, but it only made him look more handsome. His high cheekbones bathed in the light from the window, and his lips were pursed together in concentration.

A small wrinkle appeared on his forehead at your entrance. “You know it is rude to stare."

You pulled yourself from your thoughts and cleared your throat. “What is this?” you asked in a sharp tone, lifting your arm. Stephen glanced at the object in your hand, examining the black runes on the cover of your book, then closing his eyes again.

“If I am not mistaken, it is a book of sorcery,” he promptly declared. You sighed exasperatedly, throwing your arms out in annoyance.

“You would think that, wouldn’t you?” you asked defiantly, opening the book, only to reveal pages with big, painted pictures and short sentences. “The small bunny hopped out of the green bush, scaring the young girl, only to begin munching on his orange carrot,” you read.

Strange bit his lip, holding back his laughter, before answering in a serious tone. “God, y/n. One would think that a sorcerer as great as you wouldn’t sink to the reading level of a kindergartener.”

You shot him a sharp look. “Where is my book, Stephen?” Strange’s eyes widened, his expression turning innocent.

“Whatever do you mean? Isn’t that your book?”

You huffed in annoyance, throwing the book into his lap, making him jump, and walked over to the desk to search among the masses of parchments and pages. Your hands roamed through the books and flipped through the pages, all the while as your eyes jumped back and forth in the mess.

“You really should clean more often,” you said, to which Strange only rolled his eyes. “Aha!” you exclaimed, your fingers wrapping around a thick book with the same cover as the one in Strange’s lap, only that the pages were filled with intricate symbols and words. You turned to Strange with a victory grin before throwing yourself down on his bed, the book laying beside you.

Strange had always been like this; stubborn, defiant, and arrogant. Ever since you had walked through the temple’s doors, two years ago, shortly before the fall of the Ancient One, Strange and you had formed a strong relationship.

You hesitantly took your steps through the streets of Kamar-Taj, Nepal. Your black leather clothes clung to your body while a hood hid your face from prying eyes. You had been lost, and broken, looking for a new future, something that could save your.

And that was when you had bumped into Doctor Stephen Strange, sitting against the wall of the temple, peacefully reading a book in the golden light during sunset. He glanced up at the sight of you, giving you a questioning look.

“Who are you?” His deep voice asked, lowering the book in his hands.

Your gloved knuckles knocked on the wooden door, turning to the figure beside your. “Who is asking?”

Strange glanced down at his brown robes, spreading his arms exaggeratedly. “Um, me?” You rolled your eyes at the man, turning to the door and knocking a second time.

Without taking his eyes from his book, Strange opened his mouth. “They won’t answer.”

You tried to hide your annoyance and once again turned to look at the man. “And why is that?”

“You need to be invited, something I assume, you are not.” Strange turned a page, seeming completely uninterested by the person beside him.

“And how would you know?” you asked, your tone sharp.

He finally looked up to meet your gaze. “Because, I just happen to be one of the temple’s residents.” You crossed your arms, shifting your weight to one foot, cocking an eyebrow. Strange closed his book, tucking it under one arm, before standing up, towering over your frame. “I’m Doctor Stephen Strange.”

You raised an eyebrow, and reached out for his hand to shake. “y/n y/l/n.” Strange chuckled and took your hand. “Something funny?”

“Quite a peculiar name, don’t you think?”

“You’re one to talk, Strange,” you mocked, smirking at him slightly. He nodded towards the door, before unlocking it and holding it open for you. The dark hall was inviting against the hot, late afternoon sun outside the temple, letting you cool down in the shade. However nice your leather outfit looked, it wasn’t exactly practical in that particular environment.

Strange led you into a large open room, tall pillars spread out along the walls, with a table on the far right and a smaller one in the middle. A large man sat at the table at the right, sipping a beverage from a small cup while gazing on the couple over the tip of it.

Strange stopped, letting you walk into the middle, while a woman in yellow robes walked forward, pouring tea into a cup for you. Strange smirked knowingly, waiting for your next move.

You gratefully took the cup out of the woman’s hand, but didn’t turn away from her. “I believe you are the one I am looking for.”

Strange cleared his throat at your response, but remained still where he stood. The woman narrowed her eyes, taking her own sip of tea.“Depends on who you are looking for.”

“The Ancient One,” you said, putting down the cup gently on the low table beside you. The woman smiled warmly, nodding at you.

“Then you have come to the right place. Please, sit.” She nodded to the cushions on the floor, beside the table. You sat down together with the Ancient One, crossing your legs and letting your hands rest in your lap.“Why do you seek me?”

Your eyes filled with insecureness, fiddling with your fingers in your lap.“I am here because of the Mind Stone.”

The Ancient One visibly stiffened in her seat, before waving to the people in the room. “Leave us, please.”

Strange shot the woman a questioning look, but left as he was told.

You slipped out of your thoughts, throwing yourself up to a sitting position on Strange’s bed. “Why’d you even take it for?” you asked, shooting him a glance. “You know that book isn’t for you.”

Strange shrugged. “I was bored.”

“You were bored?”

“Yes, I was bored.” Strange crossed his arms, steadily meeting your gaze with his grey eyes. “Besides, I was curious as to what kind of information you were withholding from me.”

You leaned forward with your elbows on your knees, a small smirk playing on your lips. “Oh, Master Strange, please do enlighten me with your findings.”

He chuckled lightly, pushing himself off the floor and lifting your book from the bed, into his hands. He absentmindedly began to flip through the pages. “Rituals. Instructions. It’s filled with all this information on dark matter, energy merging, manipulation of all sorts.” He glanced up from the book, meeting your gaze. “Why do you have this? Why didn’t the Ancient One let me read it?”

You lowered your gaze, making sure to select your next words carefully. “It’s… complicated.”

Strange sighed, rolling his eyes irritably and threw the book down on the bed again. “Oh come on, give me a break, y/n.” You avoided his gaze, fiddling with your fingers in your lap. A nervous habit, Strange had noticed. “We’ve known each other for almost two years. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

You threw your arms out, giving him an exasperated look. “We are, Stephen. But this isn’t about us, it’s about me. About my past.”

Even though you had known each other for such a long time, you hadn’t once told him about your past. You had only mentioned briefly of how broken you were when you arrived at Kamar-Taj, or of how you were seeking a better future. But you never went into detail.

“I’m sorry, Stephen. I need to go.” You stood up, grabbing the book by your side, and walked past Strange. You took a few steps across the room before a red cloak appeared before you, blocking your path. You glanced back at Strange, receiving a guilty and dark look from him, before sighing and trying to push the cloth out of the way. It wouldn’t budge.

You took a deep breath and fished your sling-ring out of your pocket, opening a portal big enough for you to get through, leading into your own room. With one last disappointed look at Strange, one to which he avoided, you stepped through and closed it behind you.

You placed the book in your own personal bookcase, one the Ancient One had provided for you before her passing, and you made sure there were no prying eyes around. You never knew who could be watching.

With one swift movement of your arms, you flicked your hand in a dismissive motion, letting the window and doors close by themselves, shutting out all of the light. You held your hand out in front of you, before one of the floorboards began to loosen itself and revealed a small box of intricate carvings and patterns.

You moved forward, picking up the box and opening it. Inside, laid two daggers, enveloped by darkness and releasing a faint dark mist from them, a small notebook, together with a black quill, a pair of black gloves, and a small pouch.

You retrieved the gloves, putting them on your hands, and putting the box back, underneath the floorboard. The gloves fit perfectly to your hands as you stretched your fingers. They were a token from a past you weren’t yet ready to let go off.

As you made your way out of the temple halls, your feet hesitated outside of Stephen’s closed door. You couldn’t hear anything behind it, but you knew he was there. It hurt — lying to him like this. You didn’t want to do it. He was your friend. But you didn’t have a choice. You knew when you entered these walls that you could never reveal the truth about yourself. The Ancient One had known that if you did you would be seen as an abomination — something to eradicate — something dangerous.

You doubted Stephen would hurt you, but with his strong moral compass you couldn’t be completely sure. Fuck, it hurt to think like this. That Stephen really would—

No. No, he wouldn’t. You wouldn’t let yourself think like that.

The setting sun glared as you opened the doors, making your way through the streets of Kamar-Taj. There was a slight chill to the autumn afternoon, but it was a welcome interruption to the usually boiling summer days. Your feet led you through the streets, walking an all too familiar path.

After the Ancient One’s passing you and Stephen had been very busy. Trying to rebuild the other Sanctuaries and establishing new leaders turned out to be very exhausting tasks. Between all of that you hadn’t really had time for your own personal mission.

When you were younger you had been exposed to the Mind Stone by some sick experiments. It was Hydra, you knew that much, but then your memories went fuzzy. All you were left with was a weird feeling in your hands and hypersensitivity to every touch and movement. It had been a difficult adjustment at first, but now, with the help of the Ancient One, it felt like an extension of yourself.

You also knew that you hadn’t been alone in the experiments. There were other kids, too. And you didn’t want to abandon them as others had you.

You stopped short at the middle of an alleyway, your back turning to lean against the stone wall. Your breaths came out in short puffs as you waited — as the seconds came and went.

One minute. Three minutes. Eleven minutes.

He was late. Something was wrong — he was never late.

You pushed yourself off the wall and began making your way deeper down the alley with rushed steps. If something had gone wrong with him, there was a big possibility that something was going to go wrong with you as well. Your neck craned as you continued to throw uncertain glances over your shoulder every few steps.

A cry split the air, so tortured and antagonising that it would etch itself into your brain for years to come. You broke out into a run, following the sound. All your mind could scream was not him, not now, not yet. It cannot be over yet.

A rounded corner and you stood face to face with what your mind could only describe as horrible. There were four figures, all of them standing over a body on the ground. You could see a sickening dark red seeping from it but forced yourself to focus on the figures. They had heard you running and were walking towards you. The man closest to you broke out into a sprint and grabbed a club from nearby, swinging it at your head. You ducked — barely, and kicked his feet under from him. You had but a moment before the next person was on you, a knife in hand.

You swerved, pulling their hand with you. Your hand found their elbow and with a sickening crunch you felt it crack underneath your fingers. The person cried out in pain as you jabbed their nose with your fist, filling the dark evening with anguish. Your eyes found the body on the ground again, not a muscle moved.

C’mon, you thought, willing the body to move with your mind.

The punch came out of nowhere, knocking the air out of your chest. You coughed, feeling your ribs straining. The three remaining figures made their way towards you, their weapons ready at hand. You pushed your body up on your elbows, trying to clear your mind.

You felt a warm feeling in your chest, the familiar tingling flowing to your fingers. Another kick. You coughed and you felt your mind begin to fog. Fuck. You blinked. Once. Twice. Thrice. Your vision was a tinted red and you had to squint. This was not good.

You could feel the movement before you felt the impact of the punch. The problem was, there was no impact — at least not to you. In front of you were a golden shimmer, separating yourself from the other men. With a grunt you pushed yourself to your feet, your forcefield forcing them further back. With one hand you sent them to the wall, trapping them against it. You furtively cast a few glances around you before running to the body on the ground.

Your hand shot out, halting before it reached the body. Your fingers curled, hesitating. Thinking better of it, your hands grabbed the body and turned it over, revealing his face. It was beaten to a pulp almost beyond recognition. But there was no doubt it was him. Blood seeped from several open wounds. You lowered your ear to his mouth, trying to determine if he was breathing. There. The slightest rise in his chest. You closed your eyes. Thank god, he’s alive.

First, there was the movement. Then came the sound. But the impact never came. The knife that had been thrown in your direction had stopped mid-air, suspended by orange, glowing threads. Your eyes followed their path, landing on a tall man further down the alley, clad in a dark red cloak. Fuck, you knew that cloak. You sighed, stood up and reluctantly faced the man.

Strange stepped forward, letting the knife clatter to the floor. You glanced at the man that had thrown it, but he had passed out, his injury still apparent. Reluctantly, you met Strange’s gaze. It was nothing like you remembered. Warm, witty and welcoming. Now, it was cold, pinning you to your spot, penetrating your soul and making every second feel excruciating. When he finally spoke, you let yourself release a breath of air.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, gesturing towards the rest of the figures still pinned against the wall. “What is this?”

“I—” you began, but couldn’t bring yourself to utter yet another lie, more pretty words to hide from him, to dig your grave even deeper. “I can explain this.”

His hard gaze set on you. “I expect you will.” Another glance at the men, at the energy holding them steadfast. “Who even are you?”

The words felt like a punch in the gut, forcing you a step back. After all of this, you thought he wouldn’t think of you differently. See you differently. By the alienating look he gave you, you were ultimately wrong. Fuck, this was exactly what you didn’t want to happen — what you’ve been dreading all this time. Every time you considered just telling Strange the image of him looking at you with a gaze full of disgust and hatred forced itself into your brain — the exact same image that was now in front of you.

You waved a hand, dismissing the forcefield against the figures. You bent down beside the body again, glancing up at Strange. He saw the pleading look you gave him and let his cloak envelope the body and float it beside the two of you.

Your footsteps echoed into the now quiet night, not daring to breathe too deeply in fear of disturbing whatever peace now lay upon the two of you. You didn’t need to look at him to know his face was set in a deep frown, his brows furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line, eyes set. You could practically hear his brain humming with energy, but decided not to say anything.

When you reached Kamar-Taj Strange sent for a healer, letting the cloak lead the body to the healer’s room. His eyes found yours and steadied, turning around to walk further down the hall. You inhaled a breath, forcing your thoughts to calm down and body relax. You followed him, realising he was leading you towards your own room. Once inside, you shut the door and leaned against it, seeing his slumped figure against your mattress. This was it, you realised. You were prepared for a fight, an argument, a confrontation.

“What is going on, y/n?” His voice sounded desperate, more than you were prepared for. It took you by surprise. When you finally composed yourself you realised you’d been quiet for too long.

“I don’t know where to even start.”

He met your gaze, hardening once again. “How about you start with tonight? Who were those men?”

“Easy. I have no idea.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Alright, who is the dying man?”

You lowered your head. “An old friend of mine.”

Strange let out a dry laugh. “Not vague at all.”

“He’s helping me— with something.”

“What?”

You hesitated. “I— can’t say.”

Strange stood up, rolling his eyes in exasperation. “Oh, give me a break. I just saved your pitiful life and you can’t even tell me the truth?”

You glowered at him. What right did he have to say that? He didn’t know what was at stake, what had happened to you or what you had gone through. But whose fault was it really that he didn’t know those things? Mine, you reluctantly admitted.

“I’m— different than you are.”

“Oh, really? Wouldn’t have thought that from the way you looked like a fucking sun earlier.”

You threw him a pointed look, to which he lowered his head at. Always had to be so snarky.

“I have the power of the mind stone inside of me, and it makes me able to— do things I couldn’t before.” You rushed the words out of you, as if you would never get them out otherwise. Maybe you wouldn’t. His eyes narrowed, looking you up and down. “What I am is something dangerous, Stephen.” There was the calculating gaze once again, trying to determine how much of a threat you were. You rolled your eyes. “I’m not going to kill you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He gave you a helpless look. “Well, what the hell am I supposed to think? You’ve been keeping things from me — this huge part of yourself that you didn’t trust me with. You go around fighting people on the streets, almost killing yourself! What am I supposed to do with that? Trust you?” A humourless laugh.

You halted. He was right, what was he supposed to do? You had been giving him nothing. For every growing second you felt yourself becoming smaller, giving more way for helplessness.

“Look, I’m sorry I couldn’t trust you. I wasn’t sure how you would react, I was afraid—“

“Afraid of what? That’d I’d see you as a rabid monster that would need to be put down?” His voice had raised and he looked expectantly at you. You lowered your head. When no response all he could do was stare, his hands shaking uncontrollably by his sides. “You actually thought that? How could you believe that I would be so cruel to you?”

You stepped forward, your shame being replaced by a newfound anger. “Well, how would I know? Your moral compass is so all over the place I don’t know what you’re thinking half of the time. I have no idea what you would’ve done!”

He sighed, running a hand over his face. When he spoke, it was almost a whisper. “I never would have done that.” He met your gaze. “Not to you.”

You felt your breath hitch in your throat. Those words were all you’ve ever needed to hear — but they weren’t enough, not now. “Why would you care?” you asked.

He threw you an annoyed look. “You’re really going to have me say it?”

“Yes.”

He sighed, taking a deep breath before looking out the window, avoiding your gaze. He mumbled something and you had to strain to be able to hear it.

“What was that?” You couldn’t keep the amusement from creeping into your voice. You both knew it — felt it hanging heavy in the air. Strange hadn’t done this before, the whole “feelings ordeal”, and it made him feel incredibly vulnerable. He clenched his jaw, stepping closer to you so you were almost chest to chest. You could feel his chest rise in deep breaths. He lowered his head to beside your ear, his hot breath fanning over it. You felt shivers traveling down your spine and had to close your eyes to fight against the urge to fall into him.

“I don’t know,” he said, “what was that?” You could hear the annoying know-it-all tone creeping into his voice, and you rolled your eyes.

“You’re impossible,” you bit out.

“You love it.”

“I love you,” you whispered. He smiled and leaned even closer to you, if it was even possible.

“I love you too,” Strange whispered back.

You didn’t mean to do it. You swear it. It just… sort of, happened.

So when Sirius came running down the stairs to the common room, a furious expression on his face, it took all you had not to burst out in laughter. His clothes were ruffled and wide pupils, as if he had just rolled out of bed and barely remembered his name. But it wasn’t his messy clothes, or his face that brought your attention. It was his hair — or rather the lack thereof. His head was completely bald. Not a single strand of hair.

You choked, trying to hold in your laughter. The others weren’t so lucky. Remus barked out a laugh and you saw tears forming in James’ eyes from laughing so hard. Mary and Lily could just stare in awe and Marlene was doubled over on the sofa.

“What the fuck happened to you, mate?” James barked out, failing to regain his composure.

Sirius threw out his hands in exasperation. “What does it fucking look like? Someone pranked me.” He turned to where Remus was sitting and his eyes narrowed. “You! Did you have any part of this?”

Remus raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t do this!”

“Then why are you laughing?” Sirius started rubbing his hair, only for him to remember that he had none, which lead to even more laughter. Peter came running into the common room when he heard the shouting and stopped short when his eyes found Sirius. “Don’t you even dare, mate.”

Peter squeaked and hurried behind James for protection.

Remus’ eyes lit up with amusement. “Everyone’s laughing. Why aren’t you accusing James? Or y/n?” Remus pointed at you in your seat across from him.

“Remus!” You frowned at him, narrowing your eyes. “Don’t you dare throw me under the bus.”

Sirius was still freaking out and every time you looked at him you felt like laughing again. To be fair, Sirius kind of had it coming. He was the one that had broken into professor McGonagall’s study and tripped that vase and then had both you and Lily placed in detention. What you hadn’t meant to do was make something that permanent. Eh, it’ll probably wear off in a few days anyways.

“We’re laughing,” Remus said, standing up from the sofa, “because whoever did this,” he gestured towards Sirius head, “is a bloody genius.”

You giggled as a grumbling Sirius left the room — probably to find a counter spell or a hat to hide under — when you caught Remus’ gaze. There was a familiar glint in them, and you could tell he knew. You silently begged him to stay silent, to which he only smiled fondly.

You cocked your head, gesturing for him to follow you out of the common room. No one noticed your leaving, with Sirius yelling for help and all, and you could slip out of the portrait. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Remus following. As soon as the portrait shut behind you, you burst out in uncontrollable giggles.

“I can’t believe that worked!”

Remus grinned. “You really are a genius.”