It’s been a few months since your encounter with Boldir, you won’t say ‘chance’ because it had been arranged, and you’ve been simply continuing with your life. As it turns out Boldir lives in a little apartment downtown not too far from the bakery you frequent. She’d seen you going there and recognized you, apparently it was Mallek and Dirk’s cyberstalking that led her to seek you out officially. You aren’t sure if you should feel grateful for their paranoia and less than morally applaudable methods bringing Boldir back into your life. It’s not as if you’re happy those two are stalking you but you are happy to have a friend back. It sits on the back burner of things you worry about- not so much a pressing thought as a pop up. 

The two of you have slowly been getting to know each other again. Outside of his control you aren’t the same person that Boldir was familiar with, and even she has changed outside of Alternia’s influence. Some things remain unchanging, such as her fashion sense and love of conspiracies but its noticeably not driven by a need to survive. She’s more relaxed. Though there will always be that part of both of you that is still on guard against threats. That’s willing to do the morally dubious to survive. It’s an unspoken acknowledgement between the two of you. There’s blood strewn between you from what you’ve both done in Alternia’s harsh nights to sleep through another harsher day. You don’t think any one of your neighbors or any manner of people you’ve interacted with understand it the same way Boldir does. Or any of your old friends do. You know that no one would suspect you capable of half the things you did. Some nights you still wake up with horror numbing your body and terror screaming at you to move. Those are the nights you make yourself something strong to wake up to and settle in for feeling like shit through the entirety of the day. To say you’re working through it is a hopeful mantra. You hope that there will be a day these feelings will be but a distant memory. As it is you’re wide awake and nursing a coffee like it’ll burn your unsavory memories away with enough exposure. You’d decided to go to the mall today since you hadn’t been in some time. Mostly you were just looking for a way to kill time. Sitting on a bench watching the other mall goers flit about you were starting to regret your decision. Everything here was just making you feel worse and even more exposed. What you wanted to do was crawl your way under your blankets and stay there. Getting up you tossed your drink into the nearest trashcan and went looking for the right exit. You had to pass one of the little mall theatres and suddenly stopped. Now wasn’t the time to miss her. And yet you were frozen remembering the taste of popcorn and the comforting darkness as the credits rolled. Of her hand in yours. It had been a while since you had an episode so bad you missed Polypa like one might miss a limb. The breath you took rattled through you thinly and you knew you had to get out of there before you got any worse. It took a conscious effort not to break out into a dead run. Instead you were walking briskly, eyes glued to your own feet, as you rushed towards the exit. You tried hard not to bump into anyone but even so you still managed to do it. Just a clipping of shoulders and elbows. Head shooting up you went to apologize only for the air to leave your lungs entirely. 

She looked wonderful, black cargo shorts and her signature tank top. The chip in her horn was still there but it wasn’t the jagged wound of your memories- instead it looked tended to. The edges softened to keep it from being so glaringly obvious. Her hair was still the messy black you came to appreciate but this time it had a sort of neatness to it. Polypa looked right at home. Tongue tied you could only stare with wide and disbelieving eyes. There was movement out of the corner of your eye- slow and deliberate- but you only had eyes for your moirail. Or rather, former moirail. A hand carefully hovered near your cheek and you could feel the tears stinging against the corners of your eyes. Her lips pulled taut into a thin line and her hand pressed firmly against your jaw. Then her other hand came up to do the same. There was the rustle of plastic and you were vaguely aware of the bag dangling from her arm as her hands cupped your face. As she took a small step closer. 

“Polypa?” Your voice cracked and you shut your mouth with a click of teeth. She wasn’t your moirail anymore. She wasn’t. It didn’t make you want to collapse against her any less. The harsh lines of her brows seemed to soften at that as she carefully guided you closer and you had to wonder exactly how pitiful you must have looked. 

“Where’s your scuttlebuggy?” She asked quietly. Your shoulders trembled. 

“I walked.” The walk had seemed like a good idea at the time. A way to clear your head. Now it seemed like the worst decision you ever made. 

“Okay.” She was wrapping an arm around you so tightly you were forced to walk pressed flush against her side. A protest bubbled up your throat and promptly died on your tongue when you saw the few trolls scattered about blatantly staring. Against you Polypa’s chest rumbled with the hint of a warning growl. You were reminded of all the times you’d been in a similar situation back on Alternia, though those times you’d been the one doing the comforting. Had Polypa ever been given the chance to return the favor? There was that first time but you’d been so out of it he’d stolen your words and warped them to fit the narrative. The realization helped sober you just a bit. This was the first time she was seeing you break. The real you. Your entire body shuddered as the realization settled into your mind. This was it. If Polypa didn’t like what she saw it was over. The comforting memories of the two of you together would be overshadowed by this. This simple but momentous moment. Your tears were finally getting to the point of blurring your vision as the two of you exited the mall. She was warm, you thought to yourself, not the same warmth a human would give off but warmer than you remembered. And she was still tugging you along pressed tight and held firmly in her grip. How the two of you managed to walk all the way back to your house you weren’t sure. It seemed as if one minute you were walking away from the mall and the next minute Polypa was taking your house key out of your fumbling fingers to open the door herself. Again you could feel a protest bubbling up. A warning that she had to leave now because you couldn’t handle it if all this amounted to was you getting your hopes up. As she shut and locked your door behind you both the words stilled in waiting on your lips. 

Why had she locked your door?

“Force of habit, come here.” She replied forcefully, you hadn’t even realized you’d asked her that out loud. As Polypa gathered you back up close again she took in your little home. It wasn’t much of course. Just what you’d managed to scrape up and get when you started out here, but it was nothing to be ashamed of. With a careful precision she walked you through the house and straight into your room. In moments you were being sat on your bed as Polypa knelt down to unlace your shoes for you. The action had you feeling rubbed raw. Fresh tears spilled down your cheeks as she carefully pulled off your shoes and set them aside. Her face was impossibly soft as she looked up at you. 

“Is this okay?” There was something raw in the way her voice just barely trembled. As if this was just as meaningful to her as it was to you. With a choked sob all you could do was nod. She was careful as she crawled onto your bed with you- kicking off her own shoes as she went. There were the beginnings of translucent olive colored tears in her eyes. A desperation you felt just as keenly mirrored in her actions. 

It broke what little restrain you had as the agony of it all overwhelmed you. 

The Sorcerer's Spell

Doctor Strange X Reader

By: @random-writer-4884

Description: When Stephen Strange begins his studies at the Sanctum Sanctorum, you felt cast aside watching his excel so quickly. With the sudden death of The Ancient One (who guided you in your studies) and Strange's sudden rise to Sorcerer Supreme all at once, it seemed like too much. Feeling like you would never advance further with such an arrogant man in charge, Strange proves you wrong.

Warnings: Mention of death

You had been training at Kamar-Taj for months when he arrived. Some cocky doctor, a former brain surgeon. At least that's what they were saying. He was cocky for sure, but you wouldn’t call him a brain surgeon. His hands were scarred and shook harder than a leaf. It would be accurate to describe him as an absolute disaster. 

The coffee table is overflowing with takeout containers and boxes, sprinkled with empty soda cans and dotted with dirty napkins. The culprit is fast asleep on the couch, mouth slightly open and one leg pulled up to rest along the couch back. It's hard to tell (what with the cat obscuring most of his midsection) but his stomach looks slightly extended.

There's a small pile of menus on the floor before the table, as if maybe they've been tipped to the floor by a stray container and Jesse bends down to pick them up, running his eyes over the topmost one. It's for an Indian place and the vegetarian section is full of Andrew's near unintelligible scribbles. (The same scribbles he left all over Jesse's book manuscript, but then it was mostly exclamations of love and lopsided hearts.)

Jesse reads through them carefully with his lower lip stuck between his teeth and once he's done with the first one he goes through the others only to find more of the same. ('Looks foul. Tastes delish.' 'Jesse would love this.' 'Yuck.' 'Actually better than the place down the street that we don't talk about.')

I love you so much it might actually kill me, he thinks. Out loud he says, "I go away for one week and this is what you turn into?"

Andrew stirs, blinking his eyes open with a smile already breaking over his face. "Jesse," he says, gently pushing Koala out of the way to clamber off the couch. "You're home."

Jesse finds himself swept up in Andrew's arms and kissed breathless. He can't say he minds.

--

It takes a while before Jesse's able to bring up the menus because he's busy being kissed and then undressed and then quite thoroughly fucked and then, because there needs to be a symmetry to these things, fucking, but eventually he does bring them up.

"So what's this then?" he asks, spreading the greasy, wrinkled papers out over the blankets. "Did you get a new role that requires a twenty pound weight gain?"

Andrew snakes a hand around Jesse's waist and presses a kiss to his lower back. "Would you still love me if I got fat?" he asks.

"Obviously," Jesse answers, rolling his eyes. "How much you weigh have absolutely nothing to do with how much I love you." He considers this for a moment, his brain going off on a tangent. "Actually you should gain weight to give me a better return on my emotional investment."

Andrew hazards a guess. "Because there'd be more of me to love?"

"Yes, at your current weight the pound to love ratio is frankly abysmal."

Andrew laughs and bites lightly at the fleshy part of Jesse's right buttock. "I love you, you know that right?"

"I was hoping," Jesse deadpans and Andrew bites him again.

--

"So about the menus," Jesse tries again, much much later.

"What about them?" Andrew asks drowsily.

"What were you doing with them? Other than eating your body weight in Indian food?"

"What do you think I was doing?" Andrew counter asks, shifting so that Jesse can feel him shape the words against his skin.

Jesse bites down on his lower lip, even after all this time almost too shy to voice the assumption he made the moment he started reading Andrew's comments.

"I think," he says, curling his fingers into the blankets. "That you were trying to find us a new Indian place."

"Correct," Andrew murmurs, kissing Jesse's shoulder. "Because?"

Jesse takes a deep breath. "Because you know how much I miss our old one."

Jesse can feel Andrew smile against his skin; it takes the awkwardness out of the unwanted blush staining Jesse's cheeks.

"And?" Andrew whispers.

Jesse turns around in his arms, shifting until he can hide his face against Andrew's neck. "Because you love me very much," he mutters.

They used to do this a lot in the beginning, as a part of Andrew's grand plan to make Jesse accept his love as something solid and tangible and not a fleeting affection to be taken away at a whim. Weirdly enough, it's still embarrassing to be the one putting those words in Andrew's mouth.

Jesse trails his hand down Andrew's side, putting his hand over the mouse tattoo on Andrew's hip. For their one year anniversary Andrew added a small heart to his tattoo and for their two year anniversary Jesse got a small matching giraffe. When they kiss standing up their tattoos are at the exact location to have the mouse and the giraffe kissing too, it took Jesse months to figure that one out without Andrew getting suspicious but he thinks it's a nice touch.

"I do love you very much," Andrew says, curling a proprietary hand around Jesse's hip.

"Same," Jesse murmurs sleepily, breathing in the much missed scent of Andrew's skin. "So very very much."

- The End -