✨Laura✨

I simp for way too many fictional characters

[fangirl-dot-com]

2023 Season

Chapter 1 - Wishful Thinking

Chapter 2 - Where do I sign?

Chapter 3 - Head out the Window

Chapter 4 - They Call Me Kid

Chapter 5 - Put it into Speed Drive

Chapter 6 - It's Happening! Everyone Stay Calm!

Chapter 7 - Family Dinner

Chapter 8 - May the Odds be Ever in Your Favor

Chapter 9 - Life is a Highway

Chapter 10 - See ya next year Vegas

Chapter 11 - One Last Time

Chapter 12 - So This is Christmas (WAR IS OVER)

[47foden]

MR. FROWNY FACE - p. gavi

inwhich! you, a professional ice figure skater, bumps into a man with a big frowny face while dropping off lunch for your brother during practice.

frannytalks! english is not my first language, so i apologize for any mistakes. i really hope you like this! please like, reblog, & comment if you’d like to be added to the taglist!

the security guard at the entrance barely glanced at you before waving you through. you had been here enough times dropping things off for your brother that nobody really questioned it anymore.

with a bag of food in one hand and your phone in the other, you walked through the training center, looking around for him.

“raphinha?” you called, peeking into one of the hallways.

“he’s still out on the pitch.” one of the staff members smiled, pointing toward the doors.

“thank you.” you smiled back, adjusting your grip on the bag.

you pushed through the doors and immediately regretted not bringing sunglasses. the afternoon sun was bright, reflecting off the field, right into your face.

players were scattered around, some training and some talking near the sidelines. you spotted your brother almost instantly. he was talking to a coach across the field.

before you could start walking toward him, a voice caught your attention.

“you shouldn’t be standing there.” a guy said as he walked past you.

you looked up, he had dark hair, thick eyebrows, and a serious expression.

“move out of the way. people are training.” he said before continuing toward the sidelines.

you blinked, no one had ever been straight up rude to you, apart from your rivals fans and such.

he just kept walking, and you stared after him for a second, hoping he’d redeem himself and say he was joking but he didn’t.

you brushed it off and continued toward your brother. “hey.” you smiled, handing him the bag.

raphinha immediately took it from you. “you’re a lifesaver.” he smiled, already opening it.

you glanced back toward the field. the same guy was standing with a few teammates now.

“who’s that?” you asked while pointing toward the boy.

raphinha followed your gaze. “ah, that’s pablito gavi.” he answered.

“why? you think he’s cute?” your brother jokingly raised his eyebrows.

you hummed. “no. i think he’s rude and like a mr. frowny face.”

raphinha nearly choked on his drink. “what?”

“your friend.” you said, nodding toward the field. “he told me to move.”

raphinha laughed. “that’s all?”

“yes.” you mumbled.

“that’s not rude, y/n.” he nudged you.

you gave him a look. “he literally walked up to me, told me to get out the way, and left.”

raphinha shook his head, still smiling. “trust me. that’s just gavi.”

“my point still stands, he’s rude.” you rolled your eyes.

“good thing my friends are off limits anyways.” he winked at you, which caused you to roll your eyes once more.

raphinha always made it very clear that his friends and teammates were off limits, but in reality any human being was off limits for him. you hadn’t tried out dating at all because of how protective he’d get.

“whatever, i’m gonna go now.” you said, already standing up before he even had time to respond properly.

he barely looked up from his food, “you always do that.” he said, voice muffled slightly as he kept eating.

“do what?” you asked, adjusting the strap of your purse on your shoulder.

“run away when i say something you don’t like.” he smirks.

you closed your eyes and let out a small breath through your nose, glancing once more across the training field towards gavi without meaning to.

“i’m not running away.” you said flatly

raphinha finally looked up, eyebrows slightly raised, amused again “sure.” he said, dragging it out a little.

you didn’t answer that instead you leaned down, kissed his cheek quickly out of habit, and straightened again.

“text me later.” you said, flashing him a soft smile.

“yeah yeah.” he replied, already distracted again by his sandwich.

you walked off without looking back.

-

the olympics came faster than you wanted them to and your skates felt tighter than usual, or maybe it was just your brain convincing you of things that weren’t real.

you kept flexing your fingers, then stopping yourself because you didn’t want to overthink it.

your coach spoke from behind you, trying to encourage you before you started, but it sounded so far away that you didn’t hear any of it.

when your music started everything felt crowded. you moved through the ice smoothly just like you had been practicing for the past couple of years.

by the time you landed your final jump, your chest was burning and your breathing was uneven, but you kept going and kept pushing until the music finally ended and you came to a stop in the center of the rink.

for a second there was nothing but silence, then the arena broke open with sound. you flashed a big smile towards the crowd and made your way over to your coach.

you sat through a couple more performances, then came the time to announce the winners. they called bronze, then silver, you were sure that there was no hope for you getting gold, so you tried to accept the fact you lost.

then, they announced the stats for the gold winner and you stood there blinking, your hands slowly rising to your face as the score flashed on the screen and your name popped up at the top. it made your stomach drop.

you stood in shock, it didn’t even feel real at first. your coach reached for you quickly, grabbing your shoulders and pulling you into a tight hug which made you snap back into reality, your face instantly flooded with happy tears.

after that it was all noise and flashes and movement again, flowers being handed to you, cameras getting too close, and people saying your name over and over trying to get your attention, it was overwhelming.

before you left you did a couple quick interviews and said your goodbyes to everyone, thanking your coach once again.

then finally, you were back in your hotel room with the city lights glowing faintly outside the window.

your medal sat on the bed beside you, you still couldn’t believe it. you picked up your phone, to a notification from your coach sending you some pictures from your performance.

-

yourusername: 🤍

liked by raphinha, pablogavi, alexconsani, and 4.7 million others

raphinha talento 😍🔥

⤷ yourusername 🤍

madelineargy thought you couldn’t get any sexier 😍

⤷ yourusername literally all you bb 😘

lamineyamal así mero y/n ❤️‍🔥

⤷ yourusername la niña malaaa 🥹🤍

maoshimada1030 inspiration 😍

⤷ yourusername can’t wait to see you on the ice one day <3

sofyasamodelkina deserved

⤷ yourusername thank you luv, you did amazing too 🥰

igotyuandme can i kiss you

⤷ yourusername you know you don’t need permission ;)

meganskiendiel letting everyone know she’s taken btw

⤷ yourusername let the world know 👀

⤷ candacefitinyou doomed yaoi

⤷ davids.257 someone write a fanfic rn

ynbiggest1fan she’s so perfect wtf

scootiecarrot gavi in her likes??

⤷ che4sofie i mean her brother is raphinha..

⤷ pinkiepiecult #noticing 👀

-

after you hit post you set your phone down for a second like you always do after you post something.

you instantly picked it up again, impatient and nervous about what everyone is saying. you scrolled without thinking too hard, watching your name appear everywhere, edits already being posted, and congratulations from a bunch of people you had never met.

then you noticed something, gavi had liked your post. you stared at it for a moment, confused why he would like it. you figured since a couple of his teammates, including your brother, had reposted it, he probably just clicked and liked it for no reason.

you clicked on his profile, curious, only to see he had 19.4 million followers. you scrolled a bit and saw how passionate he was about soccer.

you also noticed that he always has that annoyed look in his face, even when taking a selfie. you smiled to yourself realizing maybe he wasn’t being intentionally rude to you.

you were still scrolling when your childhood bestfriend, kristiane, called you.

“holis my sunshine!” you heard her say through the phone, using your nickname.

“krispy! hii.” you smiled into the phone.

“you did fucking incredible, i’m so sorry i missed it.” she said softly.

“it’s okay, i know your job never lets you off. i’ll see you soon anyways.” you reassure her.

“can’t wait! also, are you talking to someone and haven’t told me yet!?” kristiane laughs into the phone.

you furrow your eyebrows, confused on what she’s talking about, “what, no? you know you’d be the first person i’d tell.”

“then what’s up with all these edits that keep popping up on my feed?” she says.

“what edits? send me one.” you put her on speaker and wait for her to send you a video.

“with one of your brothers teammates.” she sniffles, “i sent it.”

you quickly open the tiktok she sent and see a silly edit with taylor swifts song, “lover.” in the background.

“kristiane, i promise you there’s nothing going on.” you laugh in disbelief.

“mhm.” she says dragging out the word.

“i promise! he literally just liked my recent post and that was it. i don’t know how these people are so quick with it.” you sigh, closing the app.

“you know how those barca fans are though.” you can feel her smirking through the phone, “watch out for his crazy fan-girls y/n.”

“jesus christ.” you say letting out a soft laugh, “i’m gonna head to bed, i’ll deal with this tomorrow.”

“awe y/n it’s only been like five minutes,” she pouts, “but goodnight sunshine, sleep tight.”

“goodnight, love you.” you say while hanging up the phone.

you place your phone on low power mode and set it on the nightstand next to you, placing your gold medal right next to it.

then, you turn off the lamp and lay on your stomach, closing your eyes and falling asleep.

-

taglist: no one yet!

[footballffbarbiex]

Tear You Apart masterlist

Summary: In a world where you don’t physically age past 25 unless you meet your soulmate, at 39, divorced and trying his hand at coaching after retiring from football, Antoine really isn’t looking for love; especially not with his daughter’s friend who is about to stop her own aging process. With his moral judgement compromised and fate trying to intervene, Antoine quickly learns that meeting a soulmate doesn’t mean that happiness comes easily.

Series warnings (if you don’t like these, do not read the fic. You’re responsible for what you consume): age gap (39-25), voyeurism, angst, oral sex (male and female), squirting/multiple orgasms, cream pie, secret dating, sexting, exchanging of pics, dirty talk, mutual masturbation, mutual pining. (More may be added later)

Chapter estimates: 20+ Chapters written so far: 8

Chapter One. 

Chapter Two. 

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five.

Chapter Six 🆕

Chapter Seven. Coming 20th June

Chapter Eight. Coming 27th June

Chapter Nine. Coming July*

* some chapters may be postponed depending on how quickly I can write the next chapters.

[theeastcoastreader]

The Bet | Dean Di Laurentis x Reader (Sneak Peek of Part 1)

Summary: Dean wants unlimited access to Beau’s Cape Cod residence for the summer following graduation. And Beau wants Dean to attempt monogamy for the last two months of their final semester. Dean agrees knowing Beau gets to pick the woman, but he didn’t realize Beau had already made his choice before they even shook hands.

"Is it necessary to sit next to me every week, Di Laurentis," you grumble hearing the creak of the chair beside you as you continue to look through your bag for a pen. A soft tap sounds next to your head and you look over to see a pen being placed on your desk.

A small grin grows on your face as you lean forward to look past Dean to the man next to him.

"Thank you, Beau," you say. He gives you a wink with an "of course." Your eyes drift over to Dean's face as you sit back in your seat. He runs his fingers through his hair while giving you a slow once over.

"It's too early for this," you tell him. He lets out a quiet laugh as he opens his laptop.

"I literally haven't even talked yet," he says.

"And yet, somehow you have found a way to already make an 8am lecture worse."

To be fair, Dean is right. Technically, he hasn't done anything to tick you off today, yet. One would think, however, that the blonde would see you choosing a random seat in the half-filled lecture hall every week as a sign. Especially when all of your classmates have stuck to the same seats the last two and a half months, no doubt watching your game of musical chairs. Today, you chose one of the back corners having hoped that he wouldn't see you.

"You know you'd miss me," he whispers as your professor pulls up the powerpoint to the week's lesson.

"Mhm, would I now? Beau, did he get checked into a wall during last night’s game? He's more delusional than usual." Dean scoffs as Beau snorts trying to cover his laugh.

“No, but I promise I’ll pay one of the hockey guys to if you come to the party tonight.”

“I have a shift tonight, but I’ll text you if I’m able to get off early enough.” You tell him as you begin writing what’s on the current slide.

“What? You’ll give him your number, but I have to DM you on Instagram?” Dean whines. A guy two rows in front of you turns to glare at the three of you. You give him a tight-lipped grin and elbow Dean.

“Believe it or not, Beau and I are friends. We’ve been friends for three years. You were quite literally there when we became friends. And I muted you on Instagram.”

Dean’s jaw drops before he tries to recover and act like he’s not affected by this information.

“Well, if you do show up tonight, we could always take a trip down memory lane…” You stop writing and turn your head to stare at him, sure that you heard him wrong.

He chuckles awkwardly.

“Six Flags, right?”

You give him a quick once over, his cheeks turning a light pink.

“Don’t steal my line. I’ve heard you’ve been using it on your puck bunnies.”

“Why, jealous?” He asks with a smirk now.

“More like mad because my material is being stolen. I can’t have people thinking I’m associated with you.” His smirk falls away.

“Who else have you used that line on?” He angrily whispers at you.

“You want a list or?”

“Brutal,” you hear Beau mumble.

“Beau,” you say looking Dean in the eyes.

“What?” Beau asks looking above Dean’s shoulder at you.

“Nothing, I’m just giving Dean the list,” you say not breaking eye contact with Dean, his narrowing before he whips his head around to look at Beau. Beau raises his hands in defense.

Author’s Note: Beau’s here for a good time and a long time. He’s a certified passenger princess in this series. This is just the opening scene, but I’m hoping the full chapter will be up by the end of Sunday!

Tag List: @downbadwellread @thecraziestcrayon @theadharablack @archxve

[random-ly-obssessed]

Expectations

Chapter One: The Dare

TW: PHYSICAL ABUSE, PHYSICAL ASSAULT, SWEARING, MENTAL ABUSE, BLOOD (perpetrator arrested)

Synopsis

A/n: I am TIRED, this may have mistakes, i'll proofread tomorrow

3RD POV

Jules was over at the guys' house, Hannah and Allie there too, the atmosphere that had been building while watching the game on the tv breaking when Allie snorted, stopping the scrolling on her phone.

"Is that like the only lie you've ever posted?" She asked Jules who sighed.

"I lost a drinking game last night, so for the next 24 hours," they pointed to their brother, Logan, "he's 'dating' my friend Y/n."

"I'm dating who?!" He spouted, flush creeping up the back of his neck, unnoticed by anyone else.

"No one!" They groaned, "it'll be down in," they checked the time, "seventeen hours. I'll post that you guys broke up."

"Why Y/n?" Dean asked, arm wrapping around Allie, the brunette curling into him. "No offense to her, I've never really talked to her, but she's like...never around Logan. Who's gonna believe that?"

"That's the point, I wanted it to be unbelievable so no one actually took it as the truth. Plus, she has a boyfriend, so she was one of the only ones I knew wouldn't be pissed off about it and hindering potential hookups."

"Ohh," Garrett hummed, glancing at Logan who still looked scoffed a little too forcefully.

"Why me though, what about my potential hookups?"

"Ew, don't ever talk about your potential hookups with me ag—" They were interrupted by a loud knocking on the door. Jules' phone buzzed and they shot up, rushing outside and shutting the door behind them.

Hannah's brow furrows before Tucker shoots up.

"Shit," he muttered, "I think I know why they bolted. Y/n's boyfriend was reported 30 minutes ago for assault..on Y/n. Sabrina said he thought she was apparently cheating on him with you." He gestured to Logan.

The group looked out of the window, trying to see anything. They could hear Jules' voice talking but not really able to make out what they were saying, it seemed heated though as they walked past the window, arms flailing as they turned around. Y/n walked behind them, her softer, passive voice barely making it into the house. She stepped into view of the window and they all took in sharp inhales.

Her face, usually bare, Allie had noticed she'd stopped wearing makeup months ago but chalked it up to going for the natural look, was bruised by her eye, a nasty one too. Garrett noticed the split lip and was immediately on his feet, Logan right behind him.

Garrett swung the door open, Logan pushing past him and going to Y/n. "Who?" He asked, voice low.

"It's- nothing!" She says, shaking her head at him as if to say 'this isn't your business,' before turning back to Jules. "Please take it down."

"Yup, done." They say, taking of their phone and deleting the post.

"Thanks." She sighs, turning to walk away.

"Y/n." Logan says, grabbing her wrist gently, just enough for her to stop.

"..Was it Jay?" Garrett asks. Her eyes dart up just quick enough for his heart to drop to his feet.

"It doesn't matter, he didn't mean to get-"

"He didn't mean to give you a black eye?" John scoffed, not meaning to sound so dismissive of her, but pissed off about the situation.

"It's not a big deal okay, he-"

"He hit you? How's that not a big deal?" Dean asked, appearing behind Garrett, who was only being held back by Hannah's presence inside. If he'd been in this position, he'd have bolted by now and managed to kill the son of a bitch himself.

Logan stepped forward again. "Did you call the police? What did they say? How long is he going away f-"

"You're not helping by getting all in her face, John." Jules said, making Logan wince and take a step back.

"Everything's fine, I have to go." Y/n says, stepping down the stairs again, Jules calling out to her.

"Wh- N/n, you can't just bolt!"

"Can we talk?" Allie asks, finally coming out herself.

"I'm not- I'm not allowed to talk to you guys, okay? I have to go."

"He won't let you talk to us?!" Garrett seethed.

"He's just looking out for me, okay? He's really a nice guy, he felt bad about it after and he said sorry but people had already called the police and now he's-"

Logan had already crossed the same steps, wanting to hold her as she looked close to crying but when he came close to her, she just took steps back and shook her head.

"N/n, please." He begged softly.

"I can't, I have to go." She said.

Even as she walked home, Logan didn't leave her alone, walking with her at a distance, the others followed in the car behind them, highlighting the road with the headlights.

Upon reaching her dorm's hallways, she finally turned to Logan with a stern expression. "You need to go, you can't-"

The door swung open and Logan almost swung too when he saw who it was, Jay Kallohera. The man who'd put his hands on you for a fucking fake dating post.

"Thanks for bringing her back to me. You can get along now." He said, eyes narrowed in suspicion, tongue to cheek as he flashed that cocky smile. He had an inch on Logan, but Logan was broader, and could definitely hold his own for longer. He had a feeling that Jay would be feeling that tonight.

"I didn't bring her back, I'm actively trying to get her out of here." Logan said.

"He's not, Jay, he's being dumb. I didn't do anything, I promise. Jules was over-"

"Shut up," Jay said, shoving her inside. "I suggest you leave. Now." He said to Logan. "I need to talk to my girl."

"Did you just fucking shove her?" Logan said, so taken aback by how genuinely brazen Jay was with his treatment of you.

"Nope." Jay said making Logan blink.

"Bullshit—you just shoved her!"

"Y/n, did I shove you, baby?" He asked.

Logan's heart shattered into pieces when you looked up at Jay with wide eyes, shaking your head. "No."

"...N/n.." He said, his face contorting into sympathy.

"So, who would they believe. Rando who won't leave my bitch alone or my bitch who's saying it never happened?"

"Don't call her a bitch." Logan said, eyes narrowing at Jay who only shrugged.

"She likes it enough, especially when I-" Logan's knuckles cracked against Jay's jaw, pushing the man back enough to stumble. He immediately was lunging for Logan, only interrupted briefly by Y/n who sobbed softly and let out a weak 'stop!'

She rushed forward to break them up, Jay yanking her back by her hair and shoving her into the trophy case in the back corner, the back of her head colliding with the shelf.

"YOU SON OF A BITCH!" Logan yelled, slamming Jay's head into the wall just as Garrett and Dean rush inside, Dean immediately pulling Logan off of Jay while Garrett ran to Y/n as she sobbed on the floor.

"Police will be here any minute for his assault charge! Don't let 'em have an excuse to get you too, man!" Dean said, Logan backing off of Jay as Dean held him down. Logan's eyes were angry and he knew he couldn't be near you, not because he'd hurt you, he could never, but he didn't want you to see him angry, not any more than you already had.

"Y/n," Garrett's eyes were panicked, past memories of his mom running through his head as he tried to focus on her. "Where does it hurt the most, show me."

"I want my mom," she cried. Dean heard it from across the room, wishing the police weren't on their way and that Jay was six feet under.

Sirens sounded outside and a few seconds later, police were inside, grabbing Jay from Dean. An officer hesitated in walking over to you, Garrett shaking his head and saying he'd come with you to the station first thing in the morning for a report.

"We should get her to a hospital, she's bleeding." Dean said, noting the small amount of blood that was seeping down your neck.

"I'll call an-"

"Don't," she sniffled, shaking her head and standing up, walking into her bathroom and grabbing a washcloth, wetting it and pressing it to her head. The routine of it, the way she immediately slipped into 'this is fine, this is normal,' it made the three men angry.

"How many times has this happened?" Dean asked.

"Does it matter?" She sniffled.

"Get something from the freezer, peas or-" Logan and started, she and Garrett interrupting him.

"Cold compress doesn't help with bleeding."

"Y/n," Logan said, voice breaking. "Why didn't you-..I.." He stopped when Garrett glared up at him and Logan decided this was his domain, backing off, no matter how much he wanted her in his arms, promising to protect her.

"Are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital?" Garrett asked her. "It looks bad."

"I'm okay." She said, making Dean and Logan share a look.

"Why no hospital? You clearly-"

"I don't have hospital money! Okay?" She said, snapping, immediately apologizing after. "I-I'm sorry, Dean."

"Don't apologize, I'm being pushy." He sighed, he and Garrett helping her up and to sit on the couch.

Jules rushed in, their eyes filling with tears when they see their best friend in the state she's in. "Good Lord." They rasped, rushing over, the two hugging as Y/n finally let herself fully cry, sobbing loudly into Jules' neck.

Logan had to leave, his throat closing up and eyes stinging. Why hadn't he seen it? He stares at her like a fucking idiot all the time! How had he not seen it?!

"Don't do that," Garrett said, his eyes meeting Logan's as the latter stood outside in the hallway. Garrett led him outside, the two able to talk normally now. "You can't. Beating yourself up about it won't help, you know my past, I didn't see it either. You never do. But we pick up the pieces, help her how we can now."

Logan sighed, blinking the tears away a few times until Garrett pulled him into a hug, Logan finally letting himself cry as well.

taglist:

@idgasb

[gl00s]

༘⋆ to whatever end. .☘︎ ݁˖ • chapter3

Summary - For years, they existed in the space between friendship and love, too close to be platonic, yet never enough to be real. He treated her like she was his in private, only to pull away the moment things became too serious.

The night she finally chose to walk away from the man who once consumed her entire world, she carried something else with her too.

Two years later, a little girl, or fate perhaps—bring them back to each other.

Genre : second chance romance, unrequited love (at first), slow burn, accidental pregnancy, Friends → strangers → lovers, angst, fluff

Themes : emotionally unavailable! Jungkook , unlabeled relationship, friends with benefits(kind of), fear of commitment, one-sided devotion, accidental pregnancy, absent father (he doesn’t know), girl dad! Jungkook, second chances, yearning, found family, angst with happy ending

⤷ series masterlist ˎˊ˗

The Life She Built

Y/N settled into her new life quickly. She worked as a teacher at the kindergarten that had opened a few months ago, just down the road from her parents’ house.

Her parents didn't think the job was necessary, but she insisted. She told them it was because one day she'd have to take care of a child of her own. And though she hated to admit it, she took it partly because she didn't want to think about him, she needed to keep her mind busy, her hands full, her heart distracted.

But somehow, after a few weeks of keeping herself occupied whenever she could, she found herself thinking about him anyway. About Jungkook. Not in the quiet moments, but in the crowded ones. Surrounded by people she enjoyed, buried in work, laughing at something a kid said, he'd slip in between the cracks, sharper and more often than in silence.

Jungkook would love this kid.

If Jungkook were here, he'd have laughed his ass off.

Jungkook would call this his new favourite dish.

The nights were worse. Alone in bed, Y/N would gently rub her belly and whisper to her child about little things, big things, everything. Her childhood. Her day. How she almost threw up at the word fart, just the word itself. Pregnancy was terrifying, and spending every day around children didn't help. When the kids first noticed she was pregnant, one little girl stood up proudly, reciting with absolute "Mama told me babies are made out of love." Y/N smiled at the time. She cried when she got home, souldn't stop, she cried until she fell asleep.

Once, during lunch, the sound of children chewing sent her running to the bathroom.

She whispered to her baby about Jungkook too. "Jungkook is your dad, but nobody has to know. We don't want an asshole like him in our lives." And then, quieter "Do you think he would've loved me differently if he knew about you? Do you think there was ever a moment, even a small one, when he actually loved me?"

_____

Jiho and Y/N talked every day. Jiho came over every weekend.

"How is everyone else doing?" Y/N asked one evening, making an americano for herself and Jiho. Jiho had been a lifeline. She took care of Y/N, looked after her, even bought her an espresso machine just so she didn't have to survive on instant coffee.

"They're okay. Same as always. We miss you so much. Mingyu suggested a surprise visit and I had to come up with so many lame excuses I've lost count." Jiho's voice carried a weight she couldn't hide. "I don't think we can keep this quiet much longer."

She felt guilty, keeping something this big from their friends, lying by omission every single day. But it was for Y/N. There were close calls, like that one time she'd mentioned Y/N's cravings and someone asked what cravings, and she'd covered it up with a quick "period cravings." The lie sat sour in her stomach every time.

Y/N felt it too. Eunwoo and Mingyu checked on her constantly, and she knew it was only a matter of time before the boys found out. She could only hope they'd understand. "I know," Y/N said, her voice quiet, threadbare. "I feel awful too. But you know I have to do this."

Jiho nodded. She knew Y/N's decision was the only one that made sense right now. Still, every time she saw Jungkook, she had to fight the urge to kick him square in the balls. And sometimes, when the weight of it all pressed down on her chest , she wanted to cry. Because her best friend was carrying his child and they were hiding it from him.

________

Jungkook had asked Jiho about Y/N once. Just once. She'd given him nothing, a shrug, a vague she's fine and he hadn't had the courage to ask again. But he felt the emptiness more than he'd expected to. He missed her. Her presence. Her jokes that weren't even funny. Her laugh. Her scent. He started dating again, hoping someone new could fill the space she'd left. It didn't last.

One night, in the middle of it all, while his girlfriend was on top of him, breath heavy, moving, he moaned a name that wasn't hers.

Y/N.

Her hips stopped. His eyes shot open. She slapped him so hard his jaw throbbed until the next morning. Without a word, she got up, pulled her clothes on, and walked out. The door slammed so hard the windows rattled. Jungkook fell back onto the bed, both hands covering his face. "I need therapy," he whispered to the ceiling.

That was the last time he tried. No more girlfriends. No more hookups. No more pretending someone else could be her.

________

It was late — the kind of late where the city dims and the only sounds are the hum of streetlamps and the distant bark of a dog. Jiho had been home, already in her sleep clothes, when her phone buzzed with Mingyu's name on the screen. He needed help packing the delivery orders. She sighed, changed, and went. The shop was warm when she stepped inside, the overhead lights casting a tired yellow glow over scattered piles of folded clothes. Boxes sat half open on the floor, a roll of tape had rolled under the table. It was normal Messy. Chaotic. The kind of chaos she'd grown used to being around.

Jiho grabbed the list and began checking items one by one, crossing off names with a pen she found tucked behind her ear. Jungkook worked beside her, folding, matching, stacking in silence. Mingyu and Jaehyun had been out delivering since evening, their van cutting through streets Jiho knew by heart. Eunwoo sat in the corner, phone pressed to his ear, handling calls and messages in a low, tired voice. The air was thick with routine. And then Jungkook spoke, "Are you visiting Y/N soon?"

Jiho's hand froze mid check. The pen hovered over the paper. It caught her off guard, not because the question was strange, but because it was him asking it. Jungkook hadn't said Y/N's name since she left. Not once. He carried her absence like a bruise he never touched, never acknowledged, never let anyone see. And now, standing among folded shirts and half taped boxes, he'd finally broken the silence. Jiho forced her voice steady. "Mmhm. I'm actually visiting her tomorrow."

Jungkook nodded. A small stiff motion. His hands kept folding a pair of jeans, then a sweater, but his fingers moved slower now, like his mind was elsewhere, swimming through waters he'd been avoiding.

"Tell her I said Hi."

The words came out quiet. Casual. Almost throwaway but beneath them, buried in the space between his syllables, there was a whole universe of things he didn't say.

He wanted to tell Jiho to tell Y/N that he was sorry. That he woke up some mornings reaching for a side of the bed that was cold. That her laugh played on a loop in his head at night when he couldn't sleep. That he saw her face in crowds, in the reflection of shop windows, in the pause before he fell asleep. That he missed her, not the idea of her, but her. The weight of her. The warmth. The way she'd scrunch her nose when she laughed at her own bad jokes.

He wanted to tell her that he loved her. That he'd always loved her. That the reason he pushed her away, let her go, didn't fight for her was because he was terrified. Not of her, but of what she made him feel. Of how deeply she'd carved herself into him. Of the kind of love that asks you to be vulnerable, to be seen, to trust that someone won't leave even when they know every broken piece of you. He wanted to say all of it.

But he didn't.

Because deep down, even if he couldnt fully accept it, even if it sat like a stone in his chest every single day he knew. Y/N was better off without him. She was happier. Or at least, she was learning to be. And he had no right to disturb that peace, no matter how much his own world felt like it was crumbling without her.

So he just folded another shirt and said nothing more.

_________

If you asked Jungkook what love was, he wouldn't be able to tell you. Not in words. Not in definitions or poetry or songs. He'd fumble, shake his head, change the subject.

But he knew it through Y/N.

He knew it in the way she kissed him, slow and deliberate, he knew it when she chose him over and over again. He knew from the way she pulled him close while their bodies are pressed together, swallowing each other’s words and moans, their souls intertwined.

_______

Y/N's pregnancy went better than anyone had expected. Her body adjusted in ways she hadn't dared to hope for, the morning sickness faded after the first trimester, the exhaustion settled into something manageable, and the wild swings of emotion became quieter, like waves that had learned to recede instead of crash. Her life, strangely, began to piece itself together.

She woke up in the mornings without that familiar weight pressing down on her chest. She went to work, came home, cooked meals she actually ate, slept through the night more often than not. There was a rhythm to it. A soft, gentle hum that hadn't existed when he was still in her life.

Sometimes, when Jungkook wandered into her mind uninvited, in the middle of grading a child's drawing or while stirring soup on the stove, she would curse him. Call him a stain on her timeline, a curse she had to break. Because look at her now. Look at how everything had fallen into place the moment she walked away. Her life felt safer. Calmer. Like she could finally breathe without splinters in her lungs.

See? she'd tell herself. It was him. He was the problem.

But she never believed it. Not really.

Because beneath the bitterness, beneath the anger she clung to like armor, Y/N had never stopped loving Jungkook. She didn't know when it would end. Didn't know if it would end. It was stubborn, rooted deep in places she couldn't reach to pull it out.

And how could she forget him, when she carried a part of him with her everywhere she went? When she felt his heartbeat under her own ribs? When she talked to her belly at night and heard echoes of his voice in hers?

She didn't know how to stop loving someone who had become a part of her blood.

Maybe she never would.

________

Everything went well. Better than well, like the universe had decided to give her this one thing without a fight.

Her water didn't break on the way to the hospital. There were no complications, no sudden panic, no moment where the world tilted off its axis. The pregnancy hadn't been as bad as she'd feared, she'd handled it, somehow, handled it well. And when the time came, her body knew what to do. Ten hours. That was all it took. Ten hours of labor, with Jiho's hand in hers the entire time, never letting go.

When Y/N first heard her baby cry, everything around her went mute. The machines, the voices, the distant bustle of the hospital, all of it disappeared, swallowed by a single sound. That cry. Raw and new and so impossibly alive. Tears spilled from her eyes before she could stop them, streaming silently down her temples as she lay there, breathless.The nurse lifted the baby, wiped her clean, and placed her on Y/N's chest with a warm smile.

"It's a girl."

The world stopped.

Y/N looked down at the tiny body resting against her, skin to skin, warm and damp and trembling with each small breath. She was so small, so impossibly small. Her fingers curled into fists no bigger than the tip of Y/N's thumb. Her eyes were closed, her mouth slightly open, her chest rising and falling in a rhythm that felt like the most important sound in the universe.

My babygirl.

She didn't realize she'd whispered it until she heard her own voice, soft, cracked, full of something she couldn't name.

The nurse draped a cloth over the baby's back, drying her gently while she lay on Y/N's chest, then covered them both with a warm blanket. The baby nuzzled instinctively, searching for warmth she already knew, and within minutes, she was asleep. Peaceful. Curled up like she'd never left the safety of Y/N's belly.

The doctor stepped out to update her parents that the mother and baby were healthy. No complications, a perfect delivery.

But Y/N barely heard any of it. She couldn't take her eyes off the baby. "She's so tiny," she whispered, over and over, like a prayer she couldn't stop saying. She studied every inch of her. Her skin, still flushed red, softening into pink. Her tiny hands, faintly blue at the fingertips. The way she slept with her face turned slightly toward Y/N's heartbeat, as if she still recognized it. As if she knew she was home. Y/N lay there, her arms wrapped around her daughter, and let the silence settle around them like a second blanket.

She didn't think about Jungkook. Not yet. For now, there was only this, her babygirl, warm and safe sleeping on her chest like she'd always belonged there.

Jiho started staying over more often after the birth, showing up with groceries, taking over night feeds so Y/N could sleep, holding Jiyeon while Y/N showered. Y/N's mother took leave from work until she was fully recovered, and her father made sure they never wanted for anything. He showed up with bags of food, medicine, vitamins and a few weeks after they got home from the hospital, he started bringing toys too. A plush bunny. A rattle shaped like a star. A tiny dress that Y/N cried over before Jiyeon even grew into it.

There wasn't a single moment when Y/N felt like she needed Jungkook by her side. Not one. She was happy. Safe and loved. Surrounded by people who showed up without being asked, who held her when she cried, who celebrated every small milestone like it was their own.

Her mother had suggested the name. Jiyeon. She'll grow up to be a beautiful woman, she'd said, full of wisdom and grace. Just like her mother.

Y/N had smiled, cheeks wet, and agreed. She felt it all, the happiness, the excitement, the overwhelming swell of emotion every time she thought about raising a daughter.

A mini her

But she was oh so wrong.

Time passed quickly, the way it always does when you're too busy living to notice. Jiyeon grew up faster than Y/N had ever prepared herself for.

The first time she stood up on her own, Y/N was in the kitchen making a cup of tea. She turned around and there she was, tiny hands gripping the edge of the coffee table, legs wobbling, face scrunched in concentration. And then she let go. One second. Two. Standing on her own two feet like she'd been doing it her whole life. Y/N burst into tears. Right there, mug in hand, crying like a child herself. Because it felt like just yesterday she'd held her for the first time, that warm, tiny weight against her chest, still pink, still learning how to breathe. And now she was standing. Leaving the newborn days behind whether Y/N was ready or not. It all felt like a dream. A beautiful, blurry, heartbreaking dream.

And the fact that Jiyeon looked exactly like Jungkook didn't help.

It was uncanny, really. The same eyes, dark, deep, and huge. The kind that crinkled at the corners when she laughed. The same nose, the same lips, the same smile that could light up an entire room and break your heart in the same breath. She was his replica. A tiny, walking, breathing copy of the man Y/N had spent years trying to forget.

Y/N sometimes hated it. Hated that her daughter took so little from her. She'd search Jiyeon's face for something that was undeniably hers, and all she could find was her hair. The same shade, the same texture. Everything else, the curve of her jaw, the shape of her ears, the way she tilted her head when she was curious, all Jungkook.

As Jiyeon grew, her personality followed the same path. She was stubborn in a way that felt familiar. Loud when she wanted attention, quiet when she was observing. She loved certain foods and hated others with a passion that made no sense for a child her age. She tapped her fingers on tables when she was bored. She bit her lip when she was thinking. She laughed with her whole body, throwing her head back like the world was the funniest place to be with her bunny teeth showing.

All of it. Every single habit. Every like, every dislike, every little quirk.

Him.

"At least her first word wasn't 'Dada,'" Y/N would mutter to herself on the hard days, when Jiyeon looked at her with those eyes and she felt her chest crack open. She said it like a prayer, like a small victory she could hold onto. A tiny comfort. She said 'Mama' first. That's mine. That one thing is mine.

And yet, Y/N looked at her daughter, sleeping peacefully, her face a perfect copy of a man she once loved, maybe still loved and she felt it. That fullness in her chest. That warmth that spread through her like sunlight.

Everything in her life was complete. Everything she had dreamed of, everything she had ever wished for, was right here in front of her.

Even if it came wrapped in a face that reminded her, every single day, of what she'd left behind.

_________

Two years passed within a blink.

Just like that. Two whole years, gone like smoke through open fingers.

Within those two years, Y/N learned more than she had in the decade before. She learned how to survive on three hours of sleep and still function. She learned that love doesn't always look like what the movies show, sometimes it looks like vomit on your favorite shirt at 2 a.m., like rocking a screaming baby for hours until your arms go numb, like crying in the bathroom because you're so tired you can't remember the last time you felt like yourself.

She learned that you can leave someone you thought you couldn't live without. That the world doesn't stop turning. That your heart keeps beating, even when you're sure it's broken beyond repair and she learned that sometimes, when you lose one kind of love, the universe blesses you with another.

Two years passed so quickly, with so much happening, that Y/N sometimes couldn't tell the difference between her dreams and actual moments that happened. Was that a real memory, Jiyeon's first laugh, bubbling up from her tiny chest like honey or had she imagined it so many times that it felt real? She didn't know anymore. The days blurred together, soft and warm and exhausting, and she let them.

She never spoke of Jungkook anymore. Not to Jiho, not to her mother, not to anyone. His name sat in her throat like a stone she'd learned to swallow. But that didn't mean she thought about him less.

If anything, she thought about him more.

He was there in every little moment from the moment she held Jiyeon in her arms alone for the first time. In every big one. The day Jiyeon laughed for the first time. The day Jiyeon took her first steps, wobbling, determined, arms outstretched, Y/N watched and thought of him. The day she said her first word. Mama. Y/N cried and laughed and held her close, and somewhere in the back of her mind, she heard his voice. When Jiyeon started feeding herself, smearing food across her face like war paint, Y/N laughed until her stomach hurt. And then she thought of him.

He was everywhere. In the curve of Jiyeon's smile, in the stubborn set of her jaw, in the way she hummed when she was focused on a toy. He was in the air she breathed, in the silence before sleep, in the spaces between heartbeats.

Y/N had stopped speaking his name. But she had never stopped carrying him with her. She had just learned how to live with the weight.

_______

Jungkook knew the feeling of losing a loved one well. He had learned it young, learned it deeply, learned it in ways that carved themselves into his bones and never quite healed.

And he knew, better than most, that death wasn't the only thing that could come between people.

The first time he felt it, he was just a boy.

His parents sold his dog, his best friend, his shadow, the only living thing that greeted him with pure, uninhibited joy at the end of every school day. He came home one afternoon and the house was quieter. No barking. No scratching at the door. Too much trouble, they said. Distracting you from your studies. He didn't cry in front of them. He waited until he was in his room, face buried in his pillow, and let the tears soak through until there was nothing left. He never asked for another dog. He never asked for anything again.

The second time was when they moved to Seoul, leaving his grandmother behind in Busan.

She had been his everything. She was the one who cleaned the scratches on his knees when he fell off his bike, humming an old tune as she dabbed alcohol on the wound. She was the one who tucked him in at night, smoothing the blanket over his shoulders, pressing a kiss to his forehead like he was the most precious thing in the world. She was the one who held him when he cried, who never told him to stop, who let him fall apart in her arms and put him back together with nothing but her presence.

She was the only person who ever made him feel like his existence mattered.

And then they took her away from him. Not through death, through distance. Through a move he had no say in. Through weekend phone calls that grew shorter and fewer until they stopped altogether. He visited her sometimes, but it was never the same. The warmth was still there, but the miles between them had stretched it thin, like elastic that had lost its snap.

The third time happened when he was in high school.

By then, Jungkook had already learned to keep most of himself hidden. He didn't ask for things anymore. Didn't expect much from the people around him. He had learned, early on, that wanting things only led to disappointment, so he stopped wanting. Or at least, he stopped showing it.

But music and art—those found him anyway. It started small. A melody he couldn't get out of his head, scribbled on the margin of a textbook. A drawing of the view from his window, done in ballpoint pen because he didn't have proper pencils. Slowly, it became the only thing that made sense. When the world felt too loud, too heavy, too suffocating, he picked up his guitar. He let his fingers move across the strings until the noise in his head quieted down. He drew until his hand cramped, filling page after page with shapes and shadows that didn't need words.

It was his escape. His way of breathing. His way of saying everything he couldn't say out loud. His father never understood it. To his father, music was a distraction. Art was a waste of time. Everything that didn't lead to a stable job, a stable future, a stable life, it was useless. And Jungkook, who had never been good at explaining himself, who had never been given the space to try let the distance grow between them like cracks in dry soil.

Until one night. The night that broke whatever was left. He couldn't remember what started the fight. Maybe it was about his grades. Maybe it was about the hours he spent locked in his room. Maybe it was about nothing at all, just two people who had never learned how to talk to each other, finally reaching the end of a very short rope.

But he remembered the end. He remembered his father's hand wrapping around the neck of his guitar. The one he had saved up months of allowance to buy. The one he had stayed up late practicing on, fingers raw and blistered, because it was the only thing that made him feel alive. He remembered the way his father's arm swung up, the guitar suspended in the air for a split second and then the sickening crack as it came down against the floor. The wood splintered. The strings snapped, curling in on themselves like wounded things, pieces of the body scattered across the floor, and Jungkook just stood there, staring at the wreckage of the only thing that had ever felt like his.

He didn't scream. Didn't cry. Didn't say a word. He simply turned around and walked out.

Jungkook didn't remember driving to her place that night. He remembered walking out of his house, the front door slamming behind him, the cold air hitting his face, the splintered remains of his guitar still scattered across the living room floor. He remembered getting into his car, his hands were shaking, his chest felt like it was caving in. He didn't know where he was going until he was already there.

Her house.

The only place his heart had ever learned to point itself toward.

He knocked. Then he knocked again. And when she opened the door, sleepy, confused, hair messy. He didn’t say a word and stepped forward immediately. His face buried into her shoulder. His arms wrapped around her waist, tight, desperate, like she was the only thing keeping him from falling apart completely. Y/N didn't question him. Didn't push him away. She just held him tighter, her arms circling his back, one hand running up and down his spine in long, soothing strokes.

She didn't ask what happened. She didn't need to. She just held him, let him shake, let him breathe, let him fall apart in the safety of her arms. Minutes passed. Maybe longer. Time felt meaningless. Then her voice came, soft and warm, spoken into his hair like a secret. "Jungkook, let's go to my room, okay? My aunt's home tonight."

He pulled away slowly. His eyes were red, glassy, still holding back a flood he hadn't let himself release yet. He looked at her and nodded. "Okay."

She took his hand and led him inside.

That night, Jungkook cried in front of someone for the first time since he was fourteen years old. Since his grandmother's funeral, where he had sat in the corner of a crowded room, silent and hollow, tears streaming down his face while no one noticed.

Y/N had slipped past his walls before he even realized they were down.

He cried the whole night. Great, heaving sobs that tore through his chest like something had been clawing to get out for years. He cried for his dog, for his grandmother, for the guitar his father destroyed. For every moment he had been made to feel like he wasn't enough. For every time he had swallowed his pain and smiled through it. And through all of it, Y/N held him. She didn't tell him to stop. Didn't tell him it was okay when it clearly wasn't. She just wrapped herself around him and whispered, soft, gentle and grounding into his ear. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. You're safe.

For the first time in a very long time, Jungkook felt loved. Genuinely, completely, unconditionally loved.

And then he lost her too.

But this time, he had no one to blame except himself.

_________

Two years. Twenty four months. Seven hundred and thirty days.

Jungkook hadn't been the same since.

He lost interest in everything that used to fill his time. Women came and went, but he didn't notice them anymore, he didn't care to notice them. They blurred into the background of a life that had lost its color. His motivation dried up like a river in drought. He went through the motions, worked, ate, slept, repeated but there was no spark behind it. Just the hollow echo of a person going through the mechanics of living without actually being alive.

Outside, he looked perfectly still. Like the same old Jungkook. Same face. Same walk. But his friends noticed.

He didn't speak much anymore. The easy chatter that used to spill out of him was gone, replaced by long silences and one word answers. His smug personality, that playful, cocky grin that used to annoy and charm everyone in equal measure had completely disappeared. He didn't attend parties. Didn't go out unless he had to. Jaehyun watched him sometimes from across the room. And though a small part of him felt a pang of pity for the state Jungkook was in, there was another part, a deeper, quieter part that felt something else. Something close to satisfaction. the part that whispered. Let him feel a fraction of what he put her through.

Mingyu tried his best to keep Jungkook composed. He'd clap him on the shoulder, drag him out for coffee, force conversations that went nowhere. He didn't know the full story, none of them did, not really, but he knew enough. He knew Jungkook had broken something precious. And he knew some things couldn't be fixed by coffee and good intentions.

And then there was Eunwoo. Jungkook's unofficial therapist. The one person who didn't tiptoe around him, didn't sugarcoat, didn't cover up the truth to spare his feelings. Eunwoo said things exactly as they were, exactly as he saw them. No filters. No pity. Just blunt, honest words that cut through the fog.

"You're wasting away. Is this what she'd want?"

"You let her go. That was your choice. Now live with it."

Harsh. But true. And Jungkook needed that, needed someone to tell him the things he was too afraid to admit to himself.

Jiho felt something different around Jungkook now. Strange. Awkward. And underneath it all, a creeping sense of guilt that she couldn't shake no matter how hard she tried. She would catch herself staring at him sometimes, lost in deep thought. She'd watch his hands as he worked, the curve of his jaw when he was focused, the way his eyes dimmed when he thought no one was looking. And she'd wonder. What would he do if he found out?

What would he do if he knew he had a two year old daughter? A little girl with his eyes, his nose, his smile, a perfect replica of him running around, laughing, growing up without ever knowing his name.

Would he crumble? Would he run, like he always did when things got too real? Would he step up, finally become the man Y/N deserved, the father that little girl deserved? Or would the weight of it all crush whatever was left of him?

She didn't know. And that uncertainty sat in her chest like a stone, heavy and cold.

What if things had been different? she'd think, staring at him across the room. What if he had known from the start? Would he have changed? Would he have been better? Or would he have just hurt her all over again?

Jiho never found the answers. She wasn't sure she wanted to.

__________

Mingyu wasn't expecting anything interesting that day.

It was supposed to be simple. A quick trip to Suwon to meet up with a work friend, discuss a potential collaboration, maybe grab lunch, then head back.

But his car was in the shop. Again.

Because fucking Jeon Jungkook had crashed it.

Mingyu had been stupid enough to let him borrow it a few weeks back. Jungkook said he needed to clear his head, said he'd be careful, said he just needed to drive for a while. And Mingyu, trusting, hopeful, always giving people the benefit of the doubt had handed over the keys.

Big mistake.

Jungkook had shown up at the shop at 2 a.m., drunk out of his mind, the front bumper hanging off, the passenger side door dented beyond repair. He'd swerved off the road and into a guardrail. Lucky he didn't kill himself. Lucky he didn't kill someone else. Mingyu had to take a deep breath before he said anything that night, had to remind himself that Jungkook was hurting, that he wasn't himself, that pushing him away would only make things worse.

But damn it.

He blamed himself a little. He should have known better. Should have seen it coming. Jungkook had been spiraling for two years, and Mingyu had handed him a car and a full tank of gas like it was a solution. Stupid, he thought. So stupid.

So now he had to take the train.

Mingyu came across the place by chance.

He was walking through a quiet street in Suwon, phone in hand, checking the time until his train, when a warm glow caught his eye. Yellow light spilled through wide windows, soft and inviting. He slowed down, then stopped altogether.

Shelves of books lined the walls inside. Cozy armchairs. A counter with a coffee machine. And a small wooden sign hanging above the door that read:

The Brewed Book Café

Mingyu smiled to himself. Cute name. He figured he had time for a coffee before heading back, so he pushed the door open. A small bell chimed overhead, and the smell hit him immediately, fresh coffee and old paper. Well, he thought, it's a book café after all.

The space wasn't big, but it wasn't cramped either. A few tables and chairs were scattered thoughtfully around. Bookshelves lined every wall, packed with novels, poetry collections, and old hardcovers that looked like they'd been loved for years. It felt warm. Intentional. Like someone had poured their heart into every corner.

And then his eyes landed on her.

Y/N.

She was standing on a small wooden ladder, reaching up to arrange books on a high shelf. Her hair was longer now, tied loosely at the nape of her neck, a few strands falling free. She wore a simple cream sweater, sleeves rolled up to her elbows, revealing her forearms as she carefully slid a book into place. She looked calm. Different. In all the right ways.

For a moment, Mingyu just stood there, frozen, like he was seeing a ghost.

"Y/N?"

She turned.

Her eyes widened. "Mingyu?"

They stared at each other, suspended in that strange space between shock and recognition. Two years. Two whole years, and here they were, standing in a tiny book café in Suwon like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Then Y/N laughed, light, surprised and climbed down from the ladder. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Mingyu said, still trying to process. He looked around the café, at the books, the warm lighting, the little details that felt so her. "This is yours?"

She nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Yeah. I opened it a month ago."

Mingyu let out a low whistle. "Damn. I'm impressed." A genuine smile spread across his face. "It's so good seeing you."

Y/N smiled back, a little shy. "It's great seeing you too. My parents helped me a lot."

"They're such angels. You staying with them, or…?"

"Not anymore. I live right upstairs." She gestured vaguely toward the ceiling. "It's easier for me. Closer to the café, less commuting."

Mingyu nodded. For a moment, it felt almost like old times. Like none of the pain had ever happened.

And then something small bumped into Y/N's leg.

Mingyu looked down.

A tiny girl, maybe two, maybe three, stood there, wobbling slightly on unsteady legs. She clutched Y/N's sweater with both hands and hid behind her, peeking out with wide, curious eyes. Mingyu said nothing. He just stared.

Y/N bent down immediately and scooped her up. "What is it, baby?" she asked softly. The little girl pointed toward the counter. “sweet."

Her voice was soft, barely understandable, that sweet, slurred baby talk that made everything sound a hundred times more precious.

Y/N smiled and carried her to the counter, reaching into a small jar and pulling out a cookie. "Only one," she said gently. The little girl took it with both hands and giggled, shoving it into her mouth with uncoordinated glee.

Mingyu's brain had stopped working. He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. Finally, he managed to ask, "…Yours?"

Y/N nodded casually, like it was the most normal question in the world. "Yeah."

Mingyu's mouth opened slightly. A thousand questions swirled in his head. Whose? When? How? He bit his lip, forcing himself not to say anything stupid. "What's her name?" he asked after a long pause.

Y/N looked down at the little girl in her arms, her expression softening. She kissed the top of her head. "Jiyeon."

Mingyu whispered the name under his breath. "Jiyeon." He looked at the child, at her dark hair, her big eyes, her tiny nose. Something in his chest tightened. "That's a beautiful name."

He reached out gently and patted the top of her head. Jiyeon stared at him with wide, curious eyes, clutching her cookie like a treasure. Mingyu studied her face carefully, the shape of her eyes, the curve of her lips, the way her little brow furrowed when she was trying to figure him out.

He suddenly felt like he couldnt breathe. "Well… uh…I..um…" His voice came out awkward, stilted. "I'll see you around."

Y/N nodded, a small smile on her face. "Yeah. Come by again."

Mingyu turned and walked out of the café. The bell chimed behind him. The door clicked shut. And the moment he was outside, he started running. Straight toward the train platform. His heart was pounding, his mind racing, a single thought repeating over and over like a broken record.

________

Jiho was sitting lazily, leaning back in her chair, phone in hand, scrolling through Instagram without really paying attention. It had been a slow day at the shop, the kind of slow that made time feel sticky and endless. Jaehyun was behind the counter, wiping down already clean glass shelves just to have something to do.

Until the door slammed open.

Jiho jolted so hard she nearly dropped her phone. The bell above the door rattled violently, swinging on its hinge like it had been attacked. And there, in the doorway, stood Mingyu, chest heaving, face pale, eyes wide like he had seen something he couldn't quite believe. “You— I need to talk to you.” He say breathless pointing at Jiho. “Okay…” Jiho trailed off exchanging goances with Jaehyun who was sitting behind the counter.

Mingyu walked inside the storage room, Jiho following close behind. The moment the door clicked shut, he spun around to face her, his voice already spilling out in a small, panicky rush. "I went to Suwon."

Jiho raised an eyebrow. "I know."

"I walked into a café to grab coffee."

"Okay?"

"I saw Y/N." He paused, swallowing hard. "She had a little girl. Her name is Jiyeon. The baby looked at me." Each word came out like it was haunting him, dragging itself out of his chest with visible effort. Jiho sighed, a heavy, knowing sound. She had always known this day was coming. She had just hoped it would be later. Or never.

"Mingyu—"

"No, I'm not done." He held up a hand, his breathing uneven. "The baby looked at me. I looked back at her. And I saw her—no." He shook his head, correcting himself. "I saw him. I saw Jungkook in her. She looks exactly like fucking Jeon Jungkook. What the fuck!"

He grabbed at his hair, pacing in a tight circle, taking huge, ragged breaths like he couldn't get enough air into his lungs. "I came running home. I didn't even buy my damn coffee." He let out a hysterical laugh. "My coffee, Jiho. I left without my coffee."

Jiho gave him a moment. Let him pace. Let him breathe. Let the information settle into his bones, even if it made him rattle. Then Mingyu suddenly let out a gasp, freezing mid step. He whipped around and pointed an accusing finger at her. "Damn it. You knew everything." His voice dropped, but the weight of it doubled. "You told me nothing. You said nothing."

He looked haunted now. Shocked. Betrayed. All of it flickering across his face like a storm passing through. Jiho met his gaze steadily, keeping her voice calm and soothing. "Mingyu, let me explain everything. But first, you need to calm down." She took a small step closer. "Take a breath. Let's go out, and we'll talk about it, okay? I promise I'll tell you everything."

Mingyu stared at her for a long moment, chest still heaving. Then slowly, reluctantly, he nodded. "...Okay."

Jiho, Mingyu, and Jaehyun sat in the middle if the shop. Jiho's voice was steady as she finally told them everything.

The two guys listened without speaking a word. Jaehyun leaned forward, elbows on his knees, jaw tight. Mingyu stared at the floor, running his hands over his thighs like he needed something to ground him.

When Jiho finished, she let out a slow breath. "Any questions?"

Mingyu's hand shot up almost immediately. "So— you knew she was pregnant before she left?" Jiho blinked. She had literally said that three times already. "Mingyu, I just—" But before she could finish, a voice cut through the air from the front of the shop, sharp and curious.

"Who's pregnant?"

All three heads snapped toward the entrance. Standing at the door, keys still in hand, was Eunwoo. And right beside him, hands buried in his jacket pockets, expression unreadable, stood Jungkook.

Jiho's heart dropped into her stomach.

"My friend—" Jiho started.

"Y/N," Mingyu finished at the same time.

Jaehyun's head whipped toward Mingyu so fast his neck cracked. He stared at him in pure, undisguised disbelief, but Mingyu completely oblivious, kept talking. "But she already had the baby, so she's not pregnant right now. But she was."

A sharp kick landed on his shin under the table. Mingyu yelped, clutching his leg, wincing in pain as he rubbed his foot. Jiho's death glare bore into the side of his head, but the damage was already done.

Silence settled over the room like a heavy fog. Nobody spoke. Jiho, Eunwoo, and Jaehyun exchanged frantic glances, telepathically begging each other to say something, anything to fill the void, to redirect, to undo what had just been said.

Jungkook beat them to it.

"Good for her."

His voice was low. Casual. Almost unconcerned. Like someone commenting on the weather, or a sports score they barely cared about. But every single person in that room knew it was far from that. The words hung in the air, deceptively light, carrying a weight none of them dared to touch. Jungkook didn't move. Didn't react. Just stood there, hands still in his pockets, face carefully blank. And for a long, painful moment, no one said a word.

After the shop closed, Jungkook drove Eunwoo home.

It was a quiet drive. The kind of quiet that felt heavy, pressing down on both of them from the inside of the car. Streetlights flickered past in golden streaks, illuminating Jungkook's face in brief, fragmented flashes. His expression was unreadable, but his knuckles were white against the steering wheel.

Eunwoo watched him for a long moment before finally breaking the silence. "Kook. You okay?"

Jungkook's answer came too fast, too flat. "Why wouldn't I be?"

But his grip on the steering wheel tightened. His eyes were fixed on the road, but he wasn't really seeing it. His mind was somewhere else entirely spinning, spiraling, stuck on a name he hadn't heard in two years.

Eunwoo let out a short, annoyed breath. "Man, stop pretending for once." He turned in his seat, fixing Jungkook with a stare. "You know you can be real with me. For fuck's sake, you cried on my shoulder last week because you smelled her perfume on some random woman at the convenience store."

Jungkook's jaw tightened. "Stop bringing that up. Also, I was drunk."

"Right." Eunwoo snorted, a dry, humorless laugh. "Drunk. Sure."

Silence filled the car again. The hum of the engine. The soft thrum of tires against asphalt. Eunwoo thought that was the end of it, that Jungkook would retreat back into his shell and they'd finish the drive in silence.

But then Jungkook spoke again. His voice came out quieter this time, almost fragile. "Do you think she's married?" Eunwoo blinked.

"Or maybe engaged at least," Jungkook continued, words tumbling out faster now. "I mean, she's gotta have a man to have a baby, right? Will we get invited to her wedding? Do you think she'll invite me? What would she—"

"Jungkook." Eunwoo reached over and grabbed his shoulder, squeezing firmly. "Speed down. One question at a time, please."

Jungkook let out a shaky breath, his shoulders sagging. "Okay… okay."

"We'll talk when we reach my house, alright?" Eunwoo's voice softened. "Don't think about that right now. Just focus on driving."

Jungkook didn't answer. But he nodded, slowly, forcing his shoulders to relax, forcing his eyes back on the road ahead. The car carried on into the night, quiet once more but this time, it felt less like silence and more like a held breath, waiting to be released.

Jungkook couldn't sleep.

He had been lying in bed for hours, staring at the ceiling, his mind running in endless, exhausting circles. He couldn't eat either, the thought of food made his stomach turn. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her face. And then he saw the little girl. Y/N's daughter. Her baby.

A kid. Y/N has a kid.

He let out a laugh, short, hollow, utterly devoid of humor. It wasn't funny. Nothing about this was funny. But the sound escaped him anyway, like his body didn't know how else to process the information. It felt like a dagger right through the heart. Cold and sharp, leaving a wound that wouldn't stop bleeding.

His hand moved on its own, reaching for his phone on the nightstand. He unlocked it. Opened his contacts. And there it was, her name. Still saved. Still unchanged after all this time. He had never been able to delete it. His thumb hovered over the screen, trembling slightly.

He needed to hear it from her. Needed to hear her voice, needed confirmation that it was real, that he hadn't imagined Mingyu's panicked words. Or better, he needed to see it. Needed to see her. Needed to see the baby. Needed to know if she was happy, if she was okay, if she had found someone better than him.

But he couldn't do it.

His thumb wouldn't move. His throat closed up. His chest tightened until he could barely breathe.

"Fuck," he cursed under his breath, voice cracking.

His vision blurred. His breathing turned ragged, uneven, each inhale a battle. And then, before he knew what he was doing, he hurled his phone across the room. It hit the wall with a sharp crack and clattered to the floor, screen shattered. "FUCK!" The scream tore out of him, raw and broken.

He fell back onto his bed, both hands dragging down his face before tangling into his hair, pulling at the roots like the physical pain might distract him from whatever was tearing through his chest.

He didn't know what this feeling was.

Fear? Anger? Sadness? Guilt? Regret?

Maybe all of it. Maybe none of it. Maybe something that didn't even have a name, something that only existed because of her. Because of what he did. Because of what he lost.

All he knew was that it was crushing him. And for the first time in two years, he had no idea how to survive it.

Jiho had already informed Y/N that the boys needed extra help at the shop, so she wouldn't be able to visit or text as often. Y/N understood.

Y/N had known this day would come the moment she decided to stay in Suwon, close enough to be found but far enough to build a life of her own. She had always known that someone would eventually figure it out. Mingyu was sharp, and Jiho carried guilt like a second skin. It was only a matter of time before the pieces fell into place. She was prepared for it. She had prepared for it a thousand times over in her head, what she would say, how she would explain, how she would protect her daughter from the fallout.

But there was one thing she couldn't stop thinking about.

Will they tell Jungkook?

And if they did, what would he think?

Would he be angry? Indifferent? Would he feel relieved that she had moved on? Would he feel nothing at all? Would he want to see Jiyeon? Would he run, like he always did when things got too real?

Y/N didn't have the answers. And that uncertainty sat in her chest like a stone she couldn't swallow.

She looked down at the bed, where Jiyeon was fast asleep. Her tiny chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. Her lips were slightly parted, one chubby hand curled loosely around the edge of her blanket. She looked so peaceful. So innocent. So completely unaware of the storm that was brewing somewhere out there, threatening to find its way to her.

Y/N reached out and gently caressed her cheek, her fingers brushing over the soft, warm skin. A smile immediately formed on her lips. It didn't matter what Jungkook thought. It didn't matter what anyone thought. She had her daughter. She had this little life that depended on her, trusted her, loved her unconditionally. Jiyeon was her world now, her anchor, her reason, her everything.

No matter what happened next, as long as she had her baby beside her, she was happy.

And that was all that mattered.

Y/N leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Jiyeon's forehead, lingering for just a moment.

"Sleep well, my love," she whispered. "Mommy's got you."

Then she turned off the lamp, curled up beside her daughter, and let the quiet hum of the night wrap around them both.

_________

Jungkook locked himself in his house.

Three days. Three days of staring at the same walls, the same ceiling, the same cracks in the plaster that he had memorized months ago. He didn't answer his phone. Didn't open the curtains. Didn't eat anything that could be called a proper meal. He just existed, sprawled on his couch, cigarette burning between his fingers, watching smoke curl toward the ceiling like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

Nobody called. Nobody knocked. It was like they all knew, knew that he needed to sit with it himself, to wrestle with it alone until he either made peace with it or let it destroy him. They knew better than to bother him.

On the third day, he heard loud pounding in his door. Jungkook didn't move. He took a slow drag of his cigarette, staring blankly at the door.

BAM. BAM. BAM.

Louder this time. More insistent. Then the door burst open. The lock gave way with a splintering crack, and a figure stormed inside like a force of nature.

Mingyu.

Jungkook said nothing. Didn't even spare him a glance. He stayed exactly where he was, half sprawled on the couch, smoke drifting lazily from his lips.

Mingyu crossed the room in three furious strides. He snatched the cigarette from Jungkook's fingers and stubbed it out in the ashtray with more force than necessary. Then he grabbed Jungkook by the arm, hauled him upright, and forced him to sit properly. Mingyu dropped onto the couch beside him, close enough that their shoulders almost touched.

"I hate seeing you like this."

Silence.

"You're going to find out one way or another, so I thought I better tell you everything now." Mingyu's voice wavered slightly. "So you'll feel better. Or maybe worse. I don't know anymore."

Jungkook finally turned his head, staring at his friend with confusion flickering behind his exhausted eyes. But no words left his mouth. He just waited.

Mingyu leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together. He stared at the floor like it held the answers to questions he was too afraid to ask. "Yes, it's true. Y/N was pregnant. Well, is pregnant. I mean, she was. She has a kid now." He let out a frustrated breath. "A girl. Her name is Jiyeon. And she's cute as fuck, but that's not the point." He looked up at Jungkook, his eyes searching. "The baby, Kook. The kid. Her eyes, they were exactly like yours. Her nose, her lips, her cheeks. Everything." He paused. "Well, except her hair."

He waited for a reaction. For a breakdown. For screaming, crying, throwing something, anything. But Jungkook just sat there, staring at him with an expression that Mingyu couldn't read. "Don't you get it?" Mingyu asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Jungkook opened his mouth. His lips moved. But no sound came out. And for the first time in three days, something flickered behind his eyes. Dawning realization.

Mingyu let out a sharp breath, running a hand through his hair. "Y/N's kid, her baby, it's yours. She was pregnant with your baby. She knew she was pregnant, and that's why she moved to her parents' house in Suwon. That's why she left."

The words hung in the air like a grenade.

Jungkook let out a laugh. A scoff, really. Short. Bitter. Disbelieving. Mingyu stared at him, confusion bleeding into disbelief. "What?"

"I don't believe you."

Mingyu's mouth fell open. "What are you—"

"She would've told me." Jungkook's voice turned cold, his expression snapping into something sharp and serious. "If whatever you just said was true, she would've told me. I refuse to believe it. It's not true. Not possible." His hand came down hard on the coffee table, a loud SLAM that made Mingyu jump. Jungkook stood up abruptly, walked to his bedroom, and slammed the door shut behind him with a force that rattled the walls.

Mingyu sat alone in the living room, staring at the closed door, unsure if he should follow or leave.

Inside the bedroom, Jungkook pressed his back against the door and slid down to the floor.

His chest heaved. His hands trembled.

Deep down, he knew.

He knew she wouldn't have told him. He knew she had every reason to keep it from him. He knew he had given her no reason to trust him, no reason to believe he would stay.

And deep down, so deep it hurt to admit he wished it was true. He wished he could turn back time. He wished he had been better. He wished he had been the man she deserved instead of the man who drove her away.

Jungkook finally understood what had been clawing at his chest for the past three days.

Fear. Anger. Sadness. Guilt. Regret.

___________

Across town, Y/N closed the café for the night.

She flipped the sign on the door, locked the deadbolt, and let out a long, tired breath. The warm glow of the café lights reflected off the wooden floors as she wiped down the counters one last time. Behind her, Jiyeon sat on the counter, swinging her little legs back and forth, humming a nonsensical tune only she understood.

"Mama."

Y/N turned, a soft smile already forming on her lips. "Yes, baby?"

"Story?"

Y/N's heart melted, as it did every single time. She dried her hands on a towel and walked over, scooping Jiyeon up into her arms. The little girl's small hands immediately found their way to Y/N's neck, hugging her tight.

"Of course. Let's go upstairs."

She carried her up to their small apartment above the café. It wasn't much, a cozy living area, a tiny kitchen, one bedroom that held both their hearts. But it was theirs.

Y/N tucked Jiyeon into bed, pulling the soft pink blanket up to her chin. She picked up the worn storybook from the nightstand, the one with the dog eared pages and the creased spine and began to read in a soft, gentle voice. By the time she reached the last page, Jiyeon's breathing had slowed. Her eyes fluttered closed, her tiny chest rising and falling in the peaceful rhythm of sleep.

Y/N set the book aside and gently brushed her daughter's hair away from her forehead, fingers lingering on the soft strands and Y/N whispered into the silence, so softly it was almost a secret. "You'll never have to wonder if someone will ever choose you."

She pressed a kiss to Jiyeon's forehead.

Because Y/N knew exactly what that felt like. She had spent years wondering, hoping, waiting, aching for someone to choose her. To stay. To prove that she was worth holding onto.

And she had learned, the hard way, that some people just wouldn't.

But Jiyeon would never know that pain. Not if Y/N could help it. She would grow up knowing she was loved, wanted, chosen every single day.

_________

Jungkook didn't go the next day.

Or the day after that.

But he passed the street three times. Each time, he slowed down near the café. Each time, his grip on the steering wheel tightened. Each time, he told himself he would go in. And each time, he kept driving. He said he needed to hear it from her. Needed Y/N to look him in the eye and confirm it herself. Needed to see her face when she told him the truth, whatever that truth was.

But every time he got close, his throat closed up, his chest tightened, and his foot found the gas pedal instead of the brake.

Mingyu finally lost patience.

He found Jungkook leaning against the hood of his car, arms crossed, staring blankly at the street ahead. Mingyu walked up to him and didn't bother with pleasantries. "You're acting like a coward." Jungkook didn't react. "You think ignoring it will make it disappear?" Mingyu pressed. "She's not going anywhere, Kook. She has a café. She has a life. She has your daughter. She's not a ghost you can just drive past."

Jungkook let out a long, heavy sigh. "You don't understand."

"Oh, I understand perfectly." Mingyu's voice softened, just a little. "You're scared she'll say yes. That it's true. That you have a kid you weren't there for."

He paused.

"And you're even more scared she'll say no."

Jungkook's jaw tightened. His hands, still buried in his pockets, curled into fists.

"That it's not yours. That she moved on. That you really meant nothing."

The words landed like a punch to the gut.

Jungkook swallowed hard because Mingyu was right. That was exactly it. He was terrified of both possibilities. Terrified of the truth, no matter which direction it leaned.

_________

Jungkook finally stepped inside one evening.

He told himself he was just walking past. Just taking an evening stroll to clear his head. His feet just happened to carry him here. It meant nothing.

The moment he pushed the door open, the smell of roasted coffee beans hit him, warm, rich, inviting. He looked around, taking in the space. The soft yellow lighting, the shelves lined with books, the cozy armchairs scattered around. It felt warm. Comfortable.

Like Y/N.

His eyes scanned the room almost involuntarily, searching for something he wasn't sure he was ready to find. And then they stopped.

In the corner of the café, on a small sofa slightly too big for her, sat a little girl. A book was spread open between her legs, her tiny fingers tracing the pages with intense concentration. Her hair fell softly around her face as she mumbled the words to herself, barely audible.

Jungkook didn't move closer. He didn't look away. And then the little girl looked up.

Their eyes met.

Jungkook's breath hitched. His heart started beating so fast, so loud in his ears, that for a moment he thought it had stopped altogether. He couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't do anything but stare into those eyes, eyes that looked exactly like his own.

He turned toward the door and stormed out.

The cool evening air hit his face as he burst outside, but he didn't stop. He kept walking, then jogging, then running until he was far enough from the café that he could breathe again. He finally stopped, doubling over, one hand pressed against his chest as he tried to steady his heartbeat and his ragged breathing. "Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck." He cursed over and over, sinking down to sit on the edge of the street. Passersby gave him strange looks as they walked past, but he couldn't bring himself to care. His mind was a storm. His heart was a wreck.

After a few minutes or maybe an hour, he couldn't tell, he managed to pick himself up and stumbled to the nearest bench. He sat there as the evening turned to night, the streetlights flickering on one by one. Time slipped away from him. Minutes felt like seconds. Hours felt like nothing.

Finally, he pulled out his phone and called Mingyu. Mingyu answered on the first ring.

"I saw her." Jungkook's voice tumbled out, raw and shaky. "She stared at me. She looked at me with her eyes — her eyes that looked — she looked—"

"Jungkook." Mingyu's voice was firm but gentle. "I know. We know. Relax, okay? Where are you? I'll come to you."

Jungkook barely managed an okay. He tried to tell Mingyu where he was, only to realize he didn't really know. He had been walking in a haze, not paying attention to street names or landmarks.

When Mingyu finally found him, Jungkook tried to speak, tried to say more, tried to thank him for coming but his words caught in his throat. His eyes burned. Tears threatened to fall, and he couldn't stop them.

“Let’s go home first,” Mingyu said softly.

Jungkook nodded silently and walked toward the car.

Seeing Jungkook lose himself was rare. Seeing him cry was even rarer. But seeing him completely break down, that was something that had never happened before. Jungkook kept telling himself this was his fault. The consequences of his own actions. The price he had to pay for the choices he made two years ago.

But the aching in his chest never lessened.

It was raw. Brutal. And so, so empty.

Taglist is closed! Im sorry:((

A/N : I just want to say that I am so happy that I have people who appreciate my work. When i posted my first fanfic I mentioned that my works are pre written, I would read the stories I write to my friend and she recommended me to turn them into fanfictions and post them, and yea here am I. I edit my stories to match the characters of my fanfiction and add more details according to the characters I use. I have been writing stories and poems ever since I was a kid and it has always been a dream to share them with other people. I would suddenly get ideas and inspirations when I am listening to songs, or go to a particular place or even when I’m just laying in my bed.I’m still learning and I know I make mistakes a lot and it’s not perfect, but I write my stories with love and passion and I hope you all can respect my work and not call it ai generated. My friend actually found it very funny when I told her someone asked me to delete my work because it’s ‘ai generated’ because i’ve always been that friend who encourages others to stop using ai lol.

If you actually read my work I always try my best to explain and let the readers feel every moment, and I always want them to be able to picture every scene. If you don’t like my work please block me or ignore my posts and not threaten me or tell me to delete it because I put my heart into every sentence and every word.

I appreciate everyone who read my work and I never imagine reaching this far, it’s like a dream come true for me. All your support, your likes, comments and requests got me giggling and kicking my feet in the air. I love you all🤍🫂

My favourite chapter ever. It was originally 7.8k words but i added a few more lines haha.

Tags : @hamsss @bratz-lad @hiilovetata @lobbera @fluffysheepmaster @chaosbunn1 @annpeachy @muniing @hobimangkenobi @jeikeeei @kyljjk @eegyo @blackswan18 @juju-227592 @bangchans-girl @svnk1ssd @daisydasee @bebesnyia7 @lunaryoongie @severelengendseed @goawaysha @euphorichaewon @jakiki94 @bangchris97 @mar-lo-pap @bts123746 @gi1yawnzz @dahliadaenerys @hghjj135 @svitozz @allmyfictionalfantasies @btskzfav @busanbby-jjk @euphoricdeni @bjoriis @bangtans-momma @luvlyyoonki @almostcrystalized101 @agrimanath @bbtsficrecs @carriereadsbooks @super-btstrash-posts @cristinamajadera @naksu111 @bangatanily @ecwipsecoffee @butterymin @roryxcy @turboreader @embercrumb @remcamila @avetehanna @polarbearsnickers

[hockeyficsinwriting]

Inside The Tank AU

Nice to meet you!

Pairing: Will Smith × Sharksmedia!reader × Macklin Celebrini

Summary: Sharksmedia!reader meets Will, Mack and the Team for the first time!

Au Masterlist

Y/N was beyond excited for her first day of work.

She had only been in San Jose for a week and was still settling into everything. Her apartment was small but cozy, tucked into a quiet residential neighborhood. She had barely had time to unpack properly—just the essentials were in place: a bed, a TV, and a few scattered boxes she hadn’t gotten around to opening yet.

The night before, she had eaten takeout on the living room floor, too tired to even set up a table. Since her plane had landed, everything had been a blur. She had toured the SAP Center, prepared for training camp, moved into her apartment, and started sorting out the basics of life in the U.S.—getting her Social Security number, driver’s license, bank account, and everything else that came with starting over in a new country.

To say she was stressed would’ve been an understatement. Still, the excitement outweighed the anxiety. She had worked so hard to get here. School and college hadn’t always come easily to her, but when she landed an internship with the New Jersey Devils, she finally felt like she was building something real. And that’s exactly what she had done.

Now, today was her first official day on the media team for the San Jose Sharks, and the opening day of training camp. It was her first real chance to meet the players, get a feel for the organization, and understand what the season might look like from behind the scenes. Without the american driver’s license or a car yet, she took an Uber to the arena.

She arrived early, wanting time to prepare, but a few players and prospects were already in the locker room getting ready. At the entrance, she was greeted by Rebecca, a middle-aged staff member who had been with the Sharks for years. Rebecca had been assigned to help Y/N settle in during her first few weeks and show her the ropes around the organization.

Rebecca looked up from her clipboard the moment Y/N stepped inside, a warm, knowing smile forming on her face. “Ah, you made it early,” she said, closing the distance between them. “That’s usually a good sign… or a sign you didn’t sleep at all.” Y/N let out a small laugh, adjusting the strap of her bag. “A bit of both, honestly. I didn’t really know what ‘early enough’ was, so I went with… very early.” Rebecca chuckled. “That’s perfectly fine. First days are always like that. Come on, I’ll show you where you can drop your stuff before things get hectic.”

They started walking down the hallway together, the distant sounds of skates scraping ice and locker room chatter echoing through the arena. Rebecca glanced at her. “So, how are you holding up? San Jose treating you okay so far?” “It’s… a lot,” Y/N admitted. “Good a lot, but still a lot. I’m still trying to figure out where everything is. And I think I’ve eaten takeout for every meal since I got here.” “That’s a rite of passage,” Rebecca said with a grin. “If you don’t survive on takeout your first week, you’re doing something wrong.” Y/N smiled more easily now. “That makes me feel slightly better about my life choices.”

Rebecca didn’t slow down as they passed the media workspace altogether. Y/N glanced at the door as it came and went. “Wait… aren’t we stopping there first?” Rebecca shook her head. “Not today. You’re on mic duty. That means locker room, not office.” Y/N blinked. “Right. Got it.”

They continued down the corridor, the noise of the arena growing louder with every step. The faint scrape of skates on ice and the echo of pucks against boards seeped through the walls, mixing with the hum of early-morning activity. Y/N adjusted the strap of her bag. “So… I’m basically jumping straight into it.” “That’s exactly what you’re doing,” Rebecca said, like it was the most normal thing in the world. “No warming up in an office today.” Y/N let out a small breath. “Okay. I can do that.”

Rebecca finally slowed as they reached the entrance to the locker room area. She turned slightly toward Y/N, checking her expression. “First day nerves?” she asked. Y/N didn’t even hesitate this time. “Twelve out of ten.” Rebecca huffed a laugh. “Good. That means you care. Just don’t let it run the show.” Y/N nodded, more to herself than anyone else.

Rebecca pushed the door open with her shoulder and held it. “Stick with me, listen closely, and don’t overthink anything. You’re just helping with audio, not performing brain surgery. Shouldn't you be used to it from your internship with the Devils?” Y/N gave a small, nervous smile. “You're right.” “I know” Rebecca said, already stepping inside. “Because in about ten seconds, you’re going to meet half the team whether you feel ready or not.”

Rebecca closed the door behind them and motioned for Y/N to follow. “We’ve got the trainer mic’d up first thing.” Y/N quickened her pace to keep up. “Okay… so I’m actually doing that today?” Rebecca glanced back with a small grin. “Yes. You’re on mic duty for practice.” The arena corridors echoed with distant skates scraping the ice and muffled voices from the rink. The closer they got, the more intense everything felt—faster movement, louder sounds, more energy.

They pushed through the locker room doors, and the atmosphere shifted immediately. Players and staff were already moving around—taping sticks, tightening gear, stretching, talking in low voices. The smell of equipment, ice, and fresh tape filled the air. Rebecca leaned slightly toward Y/N. “Don’t overthink it. Everyone here is used to media being around.” Y/N nodded quickly, though her eyes were already scanning the room. “Mike Ricci is over there,” Rebecca said, pointing toward the far side. They walked across the locker room, weaving through benches and equipment bags. At the center of it all stood the trainer, focused and already in conversation with a staff member.

Rebecca stepped forward first. “Hey Mike, this is Y/N from the media team. She’s going to mic you up for practice.” The trainer turned, giving a calm nod. “Morning.” Y/N stepped in slightly, her confidence building up. “Hi. I’ll just get you set up really quickly.” Rebecca handed her the mic pack, and Y/N carefully clipped it onto his gear, checking the cable and positioning like she’d done all the time in her internship. “Alright,” she said softly. “Can you say a few words for me just to test the audio?” The trainer leaned in slightly. “Testing, testing. One, two… let’s have a good practice today.” A few nearby staff members glanced over, some smiling. Y/N checked the levels on her recorder. “Perfect. You’re coming through clearly.” Rebecca gave her a subtle nod of approval from the side. “Good. First one done.” From deeper in the locker room, the energy picked up as more players started getting ready for ice time, the buzz building for practice with the San Jose Sharks about to begin.

The second person you were supposed to mic up wasn’t in his stall. You slowed down slightly, scanning the row again, just to be sure. Empty. Maybe you had the wrong spot. “You looking for someone?” a voice asked from behind you. You turned. A player around your age stood there, relaxed posture, gear on but clearly not in a rush to hit the ice yet. It took you a second to recognize him—Macklin Celebrini. “Oh—yeah,” you said quickly, recovering. “I’m supposed to mic up Brandon Coa, but I guess he’s a little late. I’ll just wait here for him.” Celebrini glanced past you toward the stalls, then gave a small shake of his head. “I don’t think he’s coming in today,” he said. He tilted his head slightly over his shoulder. “Hey, Smitty—didn’t you say Brandon caught a bug or something?” At his stall, still focused on taping his stick, Will Smith looked up briefly. “Yeah,” he confirmed. “Pretty sure he’s out today. Something like that.” Will Smith gave you an apologetic smile and went back to finishing the tape on his stick, the steady rhythm of it filling the small gap in conversation. “You look pretty young to be on the media team,” Macklin Celebrini said after a moment, studying you with genuine curiosity rather than judgment. “Yeah, I get that a lot,” you replied with a small laugh. “Where I did my internship too. But it’s actually my first day today.” That made Celebrini pause for a second, like he was mentally updating his impression of you. “First day today?” he repeated.

Before you could add anything else, Will finished taping his stick, gave it a final tap against his palm, and walked over to join the conversation. “So you just got thrown right into it,” Will said, slightly amused. “Pretty much,” you admitted. “No time to really… ease in.” The three of you naturally settled into small talk after that, the tension easing almost immediately. They asked where you were from, how you ended up in San Jose, and what it was like moving to the U.S. so recently. “Germany?” Macklin repeated when you mentioned it. “That’s actually sick. That’s a big switch.” “Yeah,” you said. “Very different pace. And I’m still figuring out basic stuff like where anything is in the city.” Will laughed lightly. “Same for us.” You smiled. “That’s comforting…”

They both seemed genuinely curious, asking about your first week—what surprised you, what you liked so far, and how you were handling everything. There wasn’t any rush in their tone, just easy conversation, like you weren’t an outsider in their space but someone they were actually interested in getting to know. For a moment, the locker room noise faded into the background, and it didn’t feel like your first day quite as much anymore.

That was until Rebecca came back. She walked up with the calm-but-already-annoyed energy of someone who had just found out about a schedule change too late. She gave a polite smile to the boys before turning to you. “Where’s Brandon?” she asked immediately. You hesitated for a second, then explained what Will Smith and Macklin Celebrini had told you—that he wasn’t coming in today because he was apparently sick. Rebecca exhaled sharply through her nose. “Of course nobody told media,” she muttered, already half-turning away like she was mentally rewriting half her schedule. “I swear, every time it’s—okay, I’ll fix it.”She pinched the bridge of her nose for a second, clearly running through options in her head. “Now I have to rework everything on the fly…”

Will, who had been quietly watching the exchange, seemed to pick up on her frustration. During a small pause, he glanced between you and Rebecca. “If you still need someone mic’d up,” he said casually, “I can do it instead.” Rebecca looked up immediately. “You’re serious?” He shrugged. “Yeah, why not. I can do it during practice.” The tension in Rebecca’s face eased slightly, relief cutting through the frustration. “That actually saves me. Okay—perfect. Thank you.” She turned to you. “Alright, you’re on.”

You nodded quickly, shifting into focus. You followed Will to his stall, grabbing the mic pack and carefully threading it under his jersey. He stood still, helping you adjust his shoulder pad slightly so you could secure everything properly without it getting in the way. “Comfortable?” you asked. “Yeah,” he said. “Barely even notice it.” You checked the cable routing, tucking it neatly so nothing would snag once he hit the ice. The room around you kept moving—skates rolling past, quiet conversations, tape ripping—but for a few minutes, your attention narrowed completely to your work. Rebecca watched for a moment, then gave a small nod of approval. “Good. That’s exactly what we needed.” When you were done, you tapped the mic once lightly. “Audio check?” Will leaned slightly toward it. “Testing… all good?” You glanced at the levels. “Perfect.” He gave a small smile. “Guess I’m officially your first subject, huh?” You couldn’t help but smile back. “Close second actually. Mike Ricci is mic’d up too.”

When all the players and coaches hit the ice for practice, Y/N made her way up into the stands to meet Joey. Joey was a cameraman for the Sharks in his mid-twenties. They had met earlier that week and would be working closely together throughout the season.

“Hey,” he greeted her. “I’m all set up.” He held up his camera with a grin. Another cameraman stood right behind the glass, filming Mike, while Joey and Y/N sat higher up to get a full view of the ice. “Great, I’ve got the audio right here,” Y/N replied as she settled into the seat beside him and untangled a pair of wired headphones. She handed one earbud to Joey so he could listen in on the conversations as well.

Throughout practice, her attention remained fixed on Will Smith. He seemed especially close with Macklin, constantly joking around during water breaks and repeatedly trying to spot the camera.

“Can you see Y/N?” Will asked during a water break, scanning the stands for both her and the camera crew. “Haven’t spotted her yet,” Macklin replied, also looking around. Will shrugged. “We should ask if she wants to grab dinner with us sometime. She’s new here, and she’s around our age. Could be fun.” “Sure,” Macklin said. “I like her. But Cat invited us over for dinner tonight, remember?” Will froze for a second before groaning. “Oh, right.”

Earlier that week, Cat Toffoli had invited both of them over to meet Michael Misa outside the rink. Since Misa would be staying with Cat and Tyler during the season, she wanted everyone to get to know each other. Will and Macklin exchanged a glance. They had the exact same idea.

Together, they skated over to Tyler Toffoli, who was leaning against the boards, taking a drink from his water bottle. “Hey, Ty,” Will called. Tyler looked at the two rookies and immediately narrowed his eyes. “What do you want?” Macklin laughed. “Nothing.” “That’s a lie.” “About dinner tonight…” Macklin started. “Don’t even think about cancelling,” Tyler interrupted. “Cat bought enough food to feed an entire team. She’s probably already preparing everything.” “No, no,” Will said quickly. “We’re definitely coming.” Tyler looked unconvinced. “We were just wondering if we could bring a plus-one,” Will added. Tyler’s expression changed immediately. “Oh?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Who?” “Y/N,” Macklin answered. “She’s new, doesn’t really know anyone yet, and seems pretty cool.” Tyler considered it for a moment. “Okay. Why not.”

Y/N, who had heard the entire conversation through her headset, couldn’t help but blush a little. She hadn’t expected them to be so welcoming. The invitation was genuinely kind, and it made her happy to know she was already fitting in with some of the people around the team.

Once practice ended, the players headed back to the locker room while the media crew packed up their equipment.

A little later, Y/N made her way downstairs to help Will remove the mic from his gear. “Did you hear what we were talking about?” Will asked as she carefully unclipped the transmitter from his shoulder pads. Y/N laughed. “Loud and clear.” Will immediately groaned. “Oh, that’s embarrassing.” “You’ll survive.” Before he could respond, Macklin appeared beside them. “So,” he said, leaning against the stall, “what’s your answer about dinner tonight?” Y/N looked between the two of them and smiled. “I’d love to come.” Both of them brightened instantly. “Really?” Will asked. “Yeah.” “Perfect,” Macklin said. “The more people, the better.”

Will pulled out his phone and unlocked it. “Here, give me your number. I’ll text you when we’re heading over.” “You don’t have to do that,” Y/N said. “I can just grab an Uber.” “No chance,” Will replied. “Will’s already decided,” Macklin added. “You’re not winning this argument.” Y/N laughed and took the phone. “Okay, fine.” She typed in her number and handed it back.

A second later, her phone buzzed.

Will: hi

Y/N looked up at him.

“That’s your message?” “I needed to make sure I had the right number.” “Very professional.” “Exactly.” Macklin shook his head. “He’s had your number for three seconds and he’s already out of ideas.” “Good thing you’re here to help then.” “Bad idea. My suggestions are worse.” They laughed before Y/N stepped back so Will could finish changing. “Text me your address,” Will said. “We’ll figure out timing later.” “You still know Uber exists, right?” “And you still don’t get a vote.” Rolling her eyes with a smile, Y/N nodded. “Fine. I’ll send it.”

As she walked away, her phone buzzed again.

Will: don’t forget

A moment later, another message appeared.

Macklin: he means it

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh.

Y/N still wasn’t quite done with her work. She stayed around the rink a bit longer, recording a few quick player interviews for a team media segment—simple questions like nicknames, fun facts, and favorite foods. Most answers were short, a few were funny, and a couple of the guys tried a little too hard to be interesting on camera. That’s when she met Tyler Toffoli properly during a quick sit-down. He answered her questions easily, joked a bit at the end, and when the recording wrapped up, he nodded toward her with a small smile. “See you around,” he said, already heading back toward the locker room. “Yeah, see you,” Y/N replied.

Macklin was the last player to be filmed. He leaned toward the camera once the recording cut. “Hey, you done with work for now?” “Yeah,” Y/N said, gathering her things. “Just gonna grab my stuff and head out.” “Great,” he replied immediately. “We can take you home.” Y/N blinked. “You don’t have to do that, I can just—” “We’re already going that way,” Macklin cut in casually. From the corner, Will nodded. “Plus, Mack doesn’t have his license yet, so I’m driving anyway.” “That was uncalled for,” Macklin muttered. Will shrugged. “It’s true.” Y/N hesitated for a second, then smiled. “Okay… sure. That’d be nice, actually.” “Easy,” Will said. “We’ll wait outside.”

The drive started out quiet, then slowly shifted into easy conversation. Y/N leaned back in the passenger seat as she talked, with Macklin sitting beside her. “I grew up near the beach in Germany. Not like a big city or anything, just… calm.” “The beach?” Macklin repeated. “That’s pretty cool.” “Yeah,” she said with a small smile. “I have a younger brother and an older brother too. So it was kind of chaotic growing up.” Will nodded from the driver’s seat. “Sounds about right.”Y/N laughed. “It definitely was.”

A beat passed as the city moved past the windows. “I actually love watching hockey,” she added, “but I never learned how to skate.” Macklin turned slightly. “Never?” She shook her head. “Never. It didn’t really exist where I grew up.” “That’s wild,” Will said. “Working around it every day but never skating.” “I know,” she admitted. “People keep telling me I should try.” Macklin grinned. “We can fix that.” Y/N immediately looked at him. “That sounds dangerous.” “It’s not,” Will said. “Well… depends who’s teaching you.” “Hey,” Macklin protested. Y/N laughed, shaking her head as the car continued down the street.

“You wanna come up?” Y/N asked as they parked outside her apartment building. They didn’t even hesitate. “Yeah,” Will said immediately. “Sure,” Macklin added, already opening his door.

When they stepped inside, both boys paused. “Didn’t you say you moved in last week?” Will asked, looking around.Y/N laughed awkwardly. “Yeah… sorry about the mess. I just haven’t had time to fully settle in yet.” Boxes were stacked along the walls, some still sealed, others half-open. Macklin shrugged. “This is manageable.” Before she could protest, they were already helping. “Guys, you don’t have to—” “We’re already here,” Will said. Macklin pointed at a box. “Where does this go?” Y/N sighed with a small smile. “Okay… I guess we’re doing this.” They unpacked and organized together, the apartment slowly starting to feel less empty as they talked about families, hockey, and life off the ice.

Around 5:30, Y/N clapped her hands. “Okay, I need like ten minutes.” “Where are you going?” Macklin asked. “To change,” she said, heading toward the bathroom. “For dinner.” “We’ll be ready,” Will said.

When she came out, she was dressed neatly—simple, presentable, not overdressed but polished. Macklin nodded. “Alright, you clean up well.” “Thanks,” she laughed. Will grabbed his jacket. “We good to go?” “Yeah.” They headed toward the door, ready for the evening at Cat and Tyler’s.

On the drive over, Will held his phone out toward the back seat. "You're on aux," he announced. Y/N took the phone with a grin. "That's a lot of responsibility." "Don't mess it up," Macklin warned. Two songs later, one of the boys regretted giving her the choice. "Tate McRae again?" Macklin complained. "You said I had aux." "Not like this." Y/N ignored him and queued up Rihanna. Will, however, had absolutely no complaints. "This is a great song." "Thank you," Y/N said. "You have terrible taste," Macklin informed both of you. "You're outnumbered," Will replied.

The rest of the drive was filled with terrible singing, drumming on the dashboard, and enough off-key notes to make Y/N grateful no one else could hear them. By the time they pulled into the Toffolis' driveway, all three of you were laughing. "Let's never tell anyone about that car ride," Macklin said. "Agreed." "Especially Tyler."

Will rang the bell. A few seconds later, the door swung open. "Hey, come on in," Michael Misa greeted. "What's up?" Macklin said. Michael stepped aside to let them in. "Cat and Ty are busy in the kitchen." Y/N smiled and stepped forward. "Hi, I'm Y/N." She gave him a quick hug before he could even think about offering a handshake. Slightly surprised, Michael returned it. "I don't think I've seen you around before." "That's because I'm new," Y/N replied. "I work with the media team." Michael nodded. "That makes two of us, then. New to the organization, at least." Y/N laughed. "I guess we're figuring things out together."

After taking off their jackets and shoes, they followed the sounds of conversation into the kitchen. Cat was standing by the counter, chopping tomatoes for what looked like a salad. Tyler was nearby, attempting to help while mostly stealing ingredients. Cat looked up and immediately spotted them. "There you are!" She set the knife down and wiped her hands on a kitchen towel before making her way over. Before Y/N could even say hello, Cat wrapped her in a warm hug. "Welcome to San Jose!" she said. Y/N laughed and hugged her back instantly. "Thank you so much for having me." "Tyler has told me so much about you already." Y/N glanced over at Tyler. "Hopefully only good things." Tyler raised his hands. "I plead the fifth." Cat rolled her eyes affectionately before turning back to Y/N. "Seriously, though. We're happy you're here." Y/N smiled. "I hope I didn't cause too much panic with the last-minute invite." "Not at all," Cat assured her. "I love seeing the boys make friends with people their own age." From behind her, Will pointed at Macklin. "That's good because this one barely talks to anybody." "I talk to people." "No, you don't." "I literally talk to you every day." "Unfortunately." Macklin threw a dish towel at him. Cat sighed. "Five minutes." "It took them five whole minutes," Tyler said proudly. Everyone laughed as Cat shook her head and returned to the salad, already looking completely unsurprised by the chaos unfolding in her kitchen.

The boys headed out to the backyard while Tyler got the grill ready. “Hey, where’s Y/N?” he asked when only Will, Macklin, and Michael stepped through the sliding glass door. “She’s probably already making an ally in Cat,” Michael said. Tyler laughed. “Yeah, she seems to fit in perfectly.” The three of them headed back inside to grab beers from the fridge. As soon as they walked into the kitchen, they found Cat and Y/N deep in conversation. Cat was chopping up cucumbers for the salad while Y/N stood beside her, marinating the meat for the grill. “You must love being near the beach again then,” Cat said. “Absolutely,” Y/N replied. “Although it’s still very different from Germany.” “I can imagine.” Tyler grabbed a few beers from the fridge and started handing them out. “Want one?” he asked Y/N. “Sure, thanks.” With her hands covered in marinade, she couldn't take it herself. Macklin grabbed the bottle, opened it, and set it on the counter beside her. “Your delivery service,” he said. “How thoughtful.” “I know.” Cat finished the salad and handed the bowl to Will. “Table duty.” “Why me?” “Because you're standing closest.” Will sighed dramatically and took it outside. Cat then handed a stack of plates to Macklin. “You too.” “Wow. We really got assigned chores.” “Welcome to adulthood,” Tyler called from across the room.

As Cat followed the boys outside, she lowered her voice. “She’s a sweetheart.” Will and Macklin immediately smiled. “Yeah,” Will agreed. “You guys made a good find.” Neither of them said anything for a second, but they were both secretly proud. They hadn't known Y/N very long, but somehow she already fit naturally into their lives.

Back inside, the front door opened. “Hello?” a familiar voice called. “In the kitchen!” Y/N shouted back. A moment later, Sam Dickinson appeared. “Hey!” “Hey, Sam, nice to meet you!” Y/N greeted. Within minutes, Sam, Michael, and Y/N were gathered around the kitchen island, talking over one another while Cat laughed from the doorway. Tyler poked his head inside. “I leave for ten minutes and there's already another rookie in here.” “Someone has to keep Michael company,” Sam replied. “Thanks,” Michael deadpanned. “You're welcome.”

Not long after, everyone gathered around the outdoor table. The evening passed easily. There were stories from junior hockey, stories from training camp, stories from Tyler's early NHL years, and more than a few embarrassing moments shared at someone else's expense. At one point, Cat laughed so hard she nearly spilled her drink. At another, sam threatened to leave after one too many stories about him. Nobody believed him. By the end of the night, Y/N's cheeks hurt from smiling.

Eventually, it was time to leave. “Thank you guys so much for having me,” Y/N said as she hugged all of them goodbye. “I had an amazing time.” “We loved having you,” Cat said, hugging her once more. “And I fully expect to see you around a lot more now.” “You definitely will.” “Good.”

The drive back was quiet at first. Everyone was pleasantly tired from a long day. Then, halfway to Y/N's apartment, Macklin suddenly sat up. “I want ice cream.” Will glanced at him. “Okay?” “No, like right now.” Y/N laughed. “That's random.” “I've been thinking about it for at least twenty minutes.” “That's concerning.” “Dairy Queen?” Macklin suggested. Will looked at Y/N through the rearview mirror. “What do you think?” “I'm never saying no to ice cream.” “Perfect.” Ten minutes later, the three of them were sitting in a Dairy Queen parking lot with Blizzards in hand. It wasn't planned. It wasn't necessary. But somehow it felt like the perfect ending to the day.

As they sat there talking and laughing long after they had finished their ice cream, Y/N realized something. That morning, she'd walked into the rink feeling like the new person. Now, less than twenty-four hours later, she felt like she belonged. Not just with the Sharks organization. With them. And although none of them knew it yet, this was only the beginning of countless dinners, late-night food runs, road-trip stories, and hours spent together at and outside rink.

The kind of friendship that sneaks up on you when you're not looking for it. The kind that ends up changing everything.

THE END

[marumaomao]

2.0 Seamstress and the Witch

Summary: Lady [Y] then took Coco to take her measurements for her clothes. But she couldn't help but wonder how Lady [Y] sews, despite being blind. Amused by her curiosity, [Y] shows Coco how her magic works, leaving Coco amazed in the process. A personal conversation then erupts between the two adults in secrecy.

Pairing : Aglaea!Inspired Reader x Qifrey

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: The parents are arguing.. anyways i like yo imagine the personality of 3.5 aglaea when she interacts with the girls.. i feel like i went too ooc forgive mee and trust i will release a seperate chap to explain about her powers hehe

You blinked at the sudden gesture of Qifrey as you pulled away your hand gently before smiling. "Qifrey... Ever such a gentleman, aren't you?”You giggled as Qifrey pulled back and looked at you. “Apologies if I ever startled you with [Y]" he chuckled and continued, "After all, it's been a long time since we last saw you. I quite missed your presence in the atelier when you had the time to visit." He smiled as the peace between the both of you was broken as a small figure lunged at your clothes, gripping your waist gently.

“Lady [Y], Lady [Y]! Oh how I missed you!” Tetia grinned as she  nuzzled her face into your clothes. "The atelier has been so lonely without you. I know you send letters to us from time to time, but it's not the same with you being there...! ”Tetia pouted as she looked at you with doe eyes.

"I'm sorry, Tetia, I really am. As much as I wanted to spend time with you all… The shop has gotten busier lately" you hummed as you petted her head. "After all, winter is coming, and the demand for winter clothing has taken up most of my time..." you sighed sadly.

She just giggled and continued to cling onto your clothes, her mouth babbling as she told you about the new spells she learned, stories about her dreams, and her shenanigans with the rest of the girls at the atelier. 

You hummed as you listened. "I'm very glad that the atelier is still lively and is doing so well, that alone makes me happy" you said softly while patting her head as she relished your affection.

A quiet voice stepped up. "How about you, lady [Y]? Have you been well?” Richeh asked, also clutching your robes.

“I am, thank you for asking, Richeh." You smiled as you booped her nose. "Despite being busy, there are times where I still have a moment of silence to myself." you hummed as the two children began to ask you a flurry of questions about your well being and work as you entertained them with a smile.

Your eyes then drifted from the two girls to Agott, who seems to have placed herself far away from the conversation. "Agott, why are you all the way over there? No need to feel so shy at me" you said softly, beckoning her over to you. 

Agot's face flushed as she was noticed, grumbling under her breath as she came over to where you were. "Hello, lady [Y], I'm glad you're still as beautiful as ever" she said, staring at you. 

“No need for such praise, Agott...tell me, have you been well?” Your attention was now all over her as you fussed at her state. "I know how much you get hard on yourself most of the time, but…" You then took her hands into yours. "Please take breaks in between, okay…?" More of this and you'll grow white hairs like your master did." you said, chuckling, eyes full of amusement as the two girls beside you giggled at the joke. 

"Please, [Y], my hair comes from my genetics, not stress.." Qifrey rebutted with flushed cheeks at your tease.

Agott just sighed softly at the situation. “I understand, Lady [Y]; there's no need to fret over me. I have been using your advice and taking care of myself more" she said, removing her hands from yours gently. 

“Well, I'm glad to hear that, Agott... After all, you already are such an exceptional witch for your age." you praised her happily. 

Agott's eyes widened at your words before turning her head away from you as the corners of her lips turned upwards slightly at your praise. 

Qifrey just smiled and observed your interaction with his apprentices. You always had that sort of effect on them. They all cling to you, chasing and relishing the warmth of your affection, like how children would be to their mother.

You then noticed the lone figure staring at the interaction of you and others as she played with the hem of her dress nervously. Smiling at the sight, you then let your threads guide you to where she is as you knelt down to her level.

“Hello, you must be Qifrey's new apprentice, Coco, I presume?” you said gently as if not to scare her away from you.

Cocos's face flushed at the sight and attention from you. “Y-yes! It's very nice to meet you, Lady [Y]! I've heard about you a lot from Master Qifrey and the girls..." she stammered, continuing to play with her dress.

“All good things, I hope?”You hummed as you took her hands from her dress and into yours as if to soothe her. "Now, no need to feel so shy around me, I don't bite." you chuckled softly. 

Coco nodded, her head moving up and down fast “yes..! Tetia can't stop talking about you all the way here about your works, talent, and beauty…” she said shyly, finally looking you in the eyes, relishing that the words of Tetia were indeed true, as one word to describe you was… ethereal.

You just giggled at the praise and rubbed her hands gently with your thumb “Well thats how Tetia is, always such a sweetheart and a walking sunshine wherever she goes” you praised Tetia as her smile grew wider, bouncing happily in place at your words.

You then stood up, brushing the speck of dust on your clothes as you turned to Qifrey. 

“Well then, what made you visit my shop all of a sudden? You weren't quite direct in your letter yesterday." you hummed as you stared at him. 

Qifrey then put up his hands in defense, sweatdropping at your pointed stare. “M-my bad, [Y].. I guess I was too excited to see you again that I forgot to tell you the reason for our visit." he said, rubbing the back of his head nervously. “Coco here needs some winter clothing because she left hers back in her home and hasn't had the chance to pack since I took her in." he said sheepishly.

You just stared at him blankly as you rubbed the bridge of your nose at his intrusive actions, eyes narrowing suspiciously at his figure. The look from your face was then gone when you looked at coco gently, smiling softly at her

“Now, now… I believe your master is the one to blame for his carelessness" you jabbed at him as his shoulders slumped at your words. 

“Come with me, Coco. I shall take measurements of your body for your clothes" you said while beckoning her over to a small room at your shop, threads guiding you to the direction of the room.

You then stopped and looked at Qifrey. “Qifrey, I have prepared some snacks and tea for you and the girls before you came here, I set the food up in the lounge. Please bring them there" you said before turning your head away and onto Coco as both of you disappeared into the small room. 

Excited footsteps can be heard from the girls, mostly Tetia, as they all sat down and ate the treats you prepared for them in the lounge of your shop.

In the room, your hand held a long tape measure, as you told Coco to stand in the middle of the room. However, your tape measure seems odd to Coco: it has small dots on the numbers, but she didn't speak up about it, just choosing to stay quiet as she listened to your instructions.

“Coco, lift up your arms for me, please?” you said as Coco lifted her arms, trusting you completely as you measured her shoulders, arms, torso, waist, and legs, while writing down her size in your small notebook. “You can stop lifting them up now, dear; I'm pretty sure your arms are aching, yes?” you giggled as Coco put her arms down, while looking at you curiously. 

The quiet atmosphere between the two of you was nice when all of a sudden, Coco asked, "Um... Lady [Y]. Do you mind me asking you a question?”’ she said nervously.

You then shook your head no and smiled down at her. “No, not at all. What is it that you want to ask me, Coco?” eyes soft as you waited at her question

"Well... It's just that I noticed that the tape measure you're holding had some dots in the numbers and I..." She shifted her body, as if she were guilty about the next question she’d ask. "I also noticed that your eyes had no pupils... Assuming you're blind, lady [Y], I can't help but wonder how you can sew beautiful clothes even without your eyesight...?" She looked down at the floor, hands fidgeting mindlessly. 

The smile from your face vanished as you took in her words. Shoulders sagging and slightly softly with a sad smile, you crouched to her level, your hand guiding Coco's face to look at you gently. 

‘‘I-im sorry, it's a rude question right? I'm really sorry, lady [Y]...” she says, feeling guiltier by the second. 

"No…no, it's okay, Coco. It's what most people ask of me mostly anyway." Your voice trailed out and continued "How can a blind woman be such a talented tailor? Is what they always ask when they meet me" you said, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath before opening them. "To tell you the truth, I use magic to help me see specifically my threads. Is what helps me see." 

Lifting your arm to her eyes, you show her your bracelet. "This bracelet was designed and gifted to me by Olruggio after I lost my eyesight after an incident with the brimmed caps." Coco then covered her mouth in shock, eyes widening at your words. "A thoughtful gift, isn't it? ... Thanks to Olly, I can be able to “see” in a way with my threads.” With the flick of your wrist, several thin golden threads fill in the small space of the room, lighting the room in gold. 

Coco's eyes widened at the sight as she held one thread in between her fingers before looking at you in amazement of your magic. 

“Think of it like how you would draw a spell," you explained. "The outer ring serves as the circular shape of my bracelet. There are signs engraved in the small beads of my bracelet as they help me control my threads, and lastly, the larger bead in the center, marked with a sigil, dictates which type of magic I use." You pointed at the said bead and continued “In this case I use light, therefore creating my golden threads" you finished explaining, chuckling softly at the sparkling eyes. 

“Waaaa…!” Cocos' eyes shined like a toddler. "Magic truly is amazing!” She smiled happily as you agreed and giggled at her enthusiasm. 

“This bracelet lasts me for about 3 months, depending on how much I use it, and Olly makes it for me as I pay him a hefty price, despite his protests not to and pay him for how much he charges" you huffed happily, remembering the shocked face of your friend, Olruggio, when you gave him the money for your bracelet as he tried to give back the extra money while you rejected his actions.

“Though I might not be able to 'see' just like you, I can see the world differently using my threads as my eyes, while also using the remaining senses of my body: touch, smell, hearing, and taste" you hummed as you grabbed the tape measure at the table. 

“For example, my tape measure, like you said, had small dots, didn't it?” You then gave the item to Coco as she inspected it with wonder.

“These dots helped me figure out your measurements using Braille." you said softly, finger trailing over the raised marks. "In that way, the clothes I make for you and everyone else are tailored perfectly to your comfort." You then pointed to the extra shelves, stored with fabrics in the room. 

“Furthermore, Braille is found all over my shop: I use it for labeling fabrics, colors, and their texture to help me identify when I sew clothes" you continued to explain as she looked at your shop in amazement, seeing marks on the shelves in the room. "As for sewing, I use my threads; they guide me on what place to cut, mend, and improve, as they are my 'eyes.'" 

You brushed your fingers at your bracelet, playing with it. "However, the quality of my dresses comes from my hands alone.The threads are the ones to guide, but they cannot replace my talent and care for the clothes I make," you finished explaining, looking at her gently. 

She looked at you with nothing but amazement, eyes sparkling at your dedication for your craft. “Lady [y]…! You really are amazing...!” Eyes sparkling with adoration, unable to contain herself, she hugged your waist happily. "You really deserve the title of seamstress!" she said giggling as you returned her hug gently. 

"I'm glad my talent makes you happy, Coco. Though, I heard from your master that you helped manage your mother's tailoring shop" you said, smiling at her. 

At the mention of her mom, Coco's smile wavered a bit, remembering the state of her mom. You noticed quickly as you rubbed the back of her back gently as you pulled away and looked into her eyes. "I know you and Qifrey made a promise in saving your mother…then let me make my own.." gripping her hands gently. "I promise to help out your mother, to the best of my abilities, Coco.So don't lose hope, okay? Qifrey is a talented and wonderful witch. I have no doubt that one day… He'll find a way in the future" you reassured her as her eyes watered with gratitude as she hid her face in your neck, feeling small droplets of her tears in your clothes as you just comforted her gently, like a mother would.

"Hey... since you were your mothers helper.. I might as well steal you away from Qifrey when the shop gets busy" you say, trying to cheer her up, as a small giggle breaks out of Coco's sadness. 

Time passed as Coco's tears stopped flowing, wiping the rest of her tears as you just patted her back soothingly.

“Better?” you asked Coco, still rubbing her back, as she looked back at you with gratitude “yes.. Im better now, thank you, lady [Y]..’’ she muttered out weakly 

"I'm glad that you're fine now, Coco.” You smiled at her gently, helping her regain her standing. “We should go out now, I'm done with your measurements, and we did take a long time here." You sweatdropped. "Maybe your master and the girls are looking for us by now. Shall we, Coco?” With the guidance of your threads, you reached for the handle and opened the door, tilting your head as you waited for Coco to follow.

Coco then nodded and went out of the room and went into where Qifrey and the rest of the girls were.

Tetia's smile widened as she saw Coco coming out of the room with you. 

“Coco, Lady [Y]! What took you guys so long?” she pouted as she hopped towards your direction.

“Apologies, Coco here wanted to see my magic, and she was so eager too. Seeing someone so eager about it, I couldn't help but entertain her questions." You smiled happily.

You then diverted your attention to Qifrey. "Her clothes will be done in about 2 days. I'll make sure to deliver it the moment I'm done with it." Qifrey just nodded at your words as his attention was now on the two children.

Tetia's eyes widened, and she grabbed Coco's shoulders. "Waaa...! You saw Lady [Y]’s magic that close?!” Tetia exclaimed happily, shaking Coco quickly. "Lady [Y]'s magic truly is beautiful, right?!” Her eyes shining in delight 

Richeh then grabbed Tetia to stop her from shaking Coco. "Tetia, stop shaking Coco.. she'll get dizzy at this rate" she says worriedly as she looks at Coco, seeing her current state.

Tetia then stopped and looked at Coco and gasped, "I'm sorry, Coco! I really didn't mean to shake you that hard…!”  She fusses over Coco as Coco reassures her, "No.. It's okay,Tetia..." Coco looked like she was about to puke, her vision spinning. 

Agott just sighed and grabbed Coco, gently guiding her to sit down on the couch to stop her from barfing. Behind her, Tetia and Richeh followed, each worried in their own way.

Qifrey just chuckled at the situation, amused at the chaos. All of a sudden, he noticed a piercing stare from across the room. Looking up, he noticed you looking at him while tilting your head and pointing at a secluded space as you left the lounge, waiting for him to follow.

With a sigh, he looked at the girls again and smiled. "Girls, Lady [Y] and I are going to chat for a while. do entertain yourselves with each other in the meantime. Agott, watch over them?” he instructed as Agott just nodded her head at his words, her attention clearly on the 3 girls as Qifrey left the lounge. 

Qifrey then entered a small secluded space at your shop, looking for you when he felt a hand grab his arm and pin him to the wall. It was you looking at him with suspicion. 

You then let go of Qifrey as you took a few steps backward to give them space and spoke out.

“Why did you take Coco in such a short time?” You asked him, brows knitting together in suspicion, “That's not like you.” You crossed your arms in front of your chest as you waited for his answer."

Qifrey was quiet for a few moments before answering, "Coco is someone I took in due to her love for magic, so I thought, why not take her in? I was looking for another apprentice anyway—"

"Don't lie to me." you cut off his words, looking at him, your voice calm but accusing. 

"You don't get to tell me the same lie you told to everyone else.” Your gaze was still on him. "I know you better than anyone, Qifrey." You let out a sigh, uncrossing your arms. "We have been friends ever since we were apprentices..." A quiet silence passed by the both of you. "So tell me the truth.” You stood quietly, tilting your head, waiting for his real reason behind his actions. 

Qifrey just remained silent, avoiding your gaze with a clenched jaw.

“Qifrey, don't make me use my threads on you to get the truth." you threatened him as you clasp your bracelet on your wrist, the spell from it coming to life. Qifrey then lunged at you, grabbing your arm with the bracelet and unclasping it in one go as the bracelet fell onto the floor with a thud.

"..." Your arm is still in his grasp as you yank it away from him and pick up the bracelet on the floor while he takes a few steps back and leans against a wall.

“So, are you going to stand there and look stupid, or do I have to force the truth out of you?”you asked, raising your eyebrows.

A few moments later, Qifrey then spoke up. "Coco... She had a connection with the brimmed caps, though not intentional." His eyes looked at you. "She told me someone gave her a picture book about magic back when she was a child." He paused and continued, "The night when I took her in… She traced a forbidden spell from the book." 

He then sighed. "That spell is the reason why her mother is the way she is now, and it was too late for me to get the book as the spell she drew had devoured everything in her house, crystallizing every space it saw." 

“I took her in because she is the only person who can lead me to find the brimmed caps and get the punishment they deserve for what they did to me, to us.” His voice took on a desperate tone. "You know what this means, right?” His voice trembled. "If we find them… Then this can finally end..." he said with a strained smile. "I'll find a way to reverse my curse. And you'll be able to see, like how you used to." He grabbed your hand desperately.

“So please… Don't get in my way [Y], I really don't want to hurt you." he said, while lifting a hand to cup your cheek.

The man in front of you is filled with nothing but anger and obsession, his goal is hunting the brimmed caps down, bleeding through his conscience, nothing like the calm and composed teacher everyone knew.

You removed his hand from your face as you pinched the bridge of your nose, annoyed after learning the truth. “You know, Qifrey, as much as I admire your dedication to hunting down the brimmed caps for what they did to us..." 

You took a deep breath to calm yourself down and looked at him. "This whole thing will be your ruin one day." you said coldly as you prepared to leave the room, giving him one last glance. 

"Think about the present, Qifrey. Those girls you took in, they need you.” You said weakly. "They look up to you, Qifrey. I know you are a great teacher, and you've done your best to protect them." You gave him a desperate look. "I know you're hurting and want justice. But don't let your obsession with the brimmed caps drag them into danger." You held his gaze. "I know you know that as much as I do." You then left the room, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Qifrey said nothing. He just stood there in silence, your words echoing in his mind as fists clenched as he stared at your figure.

The look from your face from before disappeared when the girls came up to you, pulling you gently to play with them. Qifrey couldn't help but look away from the sight as he took a while to calm down and stepped out with a smile on his face.

"Girls, we should get going and do why we came here in the first place" he said as he began to wear his white robes. "Lady [Y] is a busy woman, we shouldn't take too much of her time now." He coaxed them gently to wear their robes as they all whined, mostly Tetia, not happy to leave so soon.

“Aweee, but Master Qifrey...! Can't we stay here a little while longer? We haven't seen Lady [Y] in a while!” Tetia whined as she tried to give him her big, doe eyes to convince him to stay.

Qifrey just smiled at the sight before shaking his head no and pointed out a person coming in. "As much as I want to stay, we can't, Lady [Y] has a customer to tend to right now." He just patted Tetia's head as he helped her wear her robes, the same thing he did with the rest of the girls.

Qifrey then stood at the door of your shop, alongside Coco, Richeh, and Agott. The only person they're waiting for is stuck to you, hugging you like there's no tomorrow. 

Tetia just pouted and hugged your waist, clinging onto you. 

“Lady [Y]...I'll miss you..." Tetia's mouth wobbled as she buried her face into your clothes. 

You just smiled and kneeled down to her level. "Tetia, no need to cry now, hm?” you soothed Tetia as you hummed, "How about this? You patted your cheek with your finger. “When I'm finished with Coco's clothes, I'll deliver them in person! How does that sound?” you suggested happily as Tetia's eyes widened as she gasped at your words, clearly delighted. 

“Really?! You'll do that??” she asked you early, happy at the thought that you'll visit the atelier.

“Of course, so no need to feel sad now, Tetia. You'll see me in 2 days." you said gently as you directed her to Qifrey and the others.

Tetia ran into where they were and then waved her arms goodbye at you, followed by the rest raising their arms in farewell.

Tetia then began to chat with Coco, telling her the stuff she needed to prepare for your visit as Coco tried to keep up with her rambling, Richeh butting sometimes during the conversation, and Agott choosing to stay silent and observe their interaction as they all went out first, soon to be followed by Qifrey.

He was about to leave when–

“Qifrey” you called out to him, saying nothing but giving him a look before smiling. "Take care of yourselves, I'll see you again soon." you said softly.

He returned your smile. “Yeah, I'll see you then, [Y]." he said before going outside, closing the door behind him and joining the rest of the girls waiting for him. 

You stared at their retreating figures before closing your eyes and opening them and then began to entertain your new customer.

Divider by: @angeliicide

[zozo-01]

to do the things your heart will regret.

"Your lines are sloppy." A curt voice spoke over his shoulder, haughty in tone and confident in nature. Qifrey jumped in his seat, surprised by the uninvited voice. He was often used to people letting him wallow in his misery, so this was a change of pace, he just wasn't sure if it was welcomed or not. He looked to his side to see a child's face, probably someone around his age, whose eyes were glaring at his magic seal. A raised eyebrow and disgusted look, he could only imagine the type of person you were. Haughty and all-knowing, like the other apprentices who shame him for his lack of knowledge. It took a lot of restraint and coaching from his master to not lash out when he was taunted.  The second thing he noticed about you was the clothing you were wearing. They were simple in colour, the solid white being a standard for most apprentices. Yet yours were adorned in golden and red accents. The crest on your chest was his final clue that you were someone of importance. Whose life would matter if you went missing.or: if a man without an eye cannot see, can a person with no heart feel? in under 9000 words.

᯽ qifrey x gn! reader

᯽ tags: Angst, Hurt/No Comfort, Canon Typical Violence, WHA Manga Spoilers, Mentions of Human Experimentation, Body Alteration, Slight Body Horror, Amnesia, Class Differences, Slight Rivals to Lovers, Unrequited Requited Love, don't worry qifrey is still very much in love with Olruggio but this isn't about them, Reader is Vinanna's child, Reader uses They/Them pronouns, this is a love story just with little love!!, more tags to be added in future chapters

᯽ This fic is sponsored by the WHA Manga and how much it aches me. Seriously, if you haven't finished it through, then please do not read this fic. And if you choose to keep reading, please not not say I warned you! Originally, this was supposed to be one chapter... But I fear there's going to be at least three... I hope you still enjoy!!

Click here for the AO3 link!!

1 | 2 | 3

CHAPTER ONE: nothing in my heart is hoping that you'll come back.

There was much to learn for Qifrey when he was brought back to the assembly. The sights and sounds of the magic surrounding him captured his young heart – proof that there was more to life than the box he was forced into. Quite literally in his case. The kind old man even let him wander around with no supervision, free to ask any and all questions his little mind could conjure.

To his credit, it was easy to be curious when you had no base knowledge to go off of. Bless his heart, Qifrey would try to summon what little he could remember – using the odd sense of deja vu that he would feel or try to piece together a story based on the scars on his body. Yet nothing. The Brimmed Hats were very thorough with their memory erase, and all that was left was to bury his body.

After all, what is the point of keeping a person with no memory? It's just an empty husk – no past to give context for its life and no future for it to aspire to.

Qifrey understood that feeling all too well. He didn't have a family that he knew of. (They were probably dead.) He couldn't tell anyone where his home was. (Any time he tried to think, all he could think of was that cursed box.) He didn't even know simple questions about himself, like what was his favourite colour? (Blue – at least he thinks it is. But not blue like the ocean; but like the bountiful sky he was barred from seeing.)

(In his darkest moments, where he lies awake at night, he often thinks about how Qifrey was not even his true name. He thanks Beldaruit for gifting him an identity, but there will always be a hole that he won't be able to fill. He has learned over time to make a name for himself – He is Qifrey the Apprentice and no one would be able to take that away from him. Yet the mind, as wondrous as it is, is also the heart's most dangerous ally, for only it can think about the alternate universes where he is not Qifrey but a boy with a family.)

(Please don't take my life again, he begged, but there would be no one who would listen. He would soon learn to make that decision for himself.)

Beldaruit was certainly wise, and with his age comes a certain way to manipulate the truth to fit his narrative. And he wasn't wrong; technically, Qifrey can't be an Unknowing if he doesn't know anything to begin with. The other sages agreed, although Vinanna was always wary of him. He supposed that it couldn't be helped as the 'Wise in Principle'. It was her job to keep all of witchkind in check, and he stood as the biggest threat to their security as of late.

Even after an extermination attempt, if one cockroach survives and is left alone, another infestation is bound to follow.

Perhaps one day, Qifrey would be a grand enough witch so that he may drown out all of the scum that has infected him. Maybe then he will find his eye and all the memories stolen from him.

But for all his effort, he couldn't make these spells work for the life of him. They would technically perform – the fire will burn, and the wind will blow – but it never takes the form he needs it to be. Nor go in the direction he wants for it to go. Even with Beldaruit's gentle encouragement, there always seemed to be something that would go awry.

(He just wanted to create a spell that would keep him dry.)

It seems as though the olden witches were right in their decision to create the pact. If magic were truly for everyone, shouldn't everyone be able to use it intuitively? Instead, he was struggling just as a child would struggle to write. Vinanna was right to be suspicious of him; he truly was an unknowing.

But it wasn't fair – not his stolen memories nor his distaste for water. Qifrey was barely a man, and he was sure that if his mother were around, he would still have been considered her child. Except he would never know what his mother was like, or if he even had one. His entire life was ripped away from him, sitting somewhere next to his missing eye.

Qifrey gripped his hair, ripping it from his skull. His head seared with pain as the ache of his ignorance and the sound of the rushing water around him. It unfortunately didn't help that the entire assembly felt like his little box, except this time, he had plenty of people to share his personal hell.

Did he even need magic? Qifrey thought to himself. Part of him was willing to run away to the outside world, away from the rules and regulations that bound his hands and silenced his tongue. He was quite young, and there were always ways for him to grow – both in stature and in spirit. Perhaps if he focused on his body and not his penmanship, then perhaps he could brute force his way through the Hats.

But if they can use magic without creating a magic seal (if his research is to be trusted), then simple knives wouldn't fare all that much against his most loathed foe. His frustration was even enough to mask the scent of roses that appeared. Weren't they under the ocean? Were flowers that fragrant even survive down here?

"Your lines are sloppy." A curt voice spoke over his shoulder, haughty in tone and confident in nature. Qifrey jumped in his seat, surprised by the uninvited voice. He was often used to people letting him wallow in his misery, so this was a change of pace; he just wasn't sure if it was welcomed or not.

He looked to his side to see a child's face, probably someone around his age, whose eyes were glaring at his magic seal. With a raised eyebrow and a disgusted look, he could only imagine the type of person you were. Haughty and all-knowing, like the other apprentices who shame him for his lack of knowledge. It took a lot of restraint and coaching from his master to not lash out when he was taunted. 

The second thing he noticed about you was the clothing you were wearing. They were simple in colour, the solid white being a standard for most apprentices. Yet yours were adorned in golden and red accents. The crest on your chest was his final clue that you were someone of importance. Whose life would matter if you went missing.

Unlike him, so forgotten by the world that even he is left ignorant of his own existence.

(Qifrey wasn't wrong. It was just a shame that no one could find you in time.)

When he didn't react to your taunt, eyes focused back to his paper and pen, you scoffed. You placed your body between his focused face and the desk he was hunched over. Qifrey – ever the menace but still a gentleman at heart – pushed away from your invading frame, glaring at the intrusion into his personal space.

"What in the devil is your problem?" he sneered, trying to push you out of his way. All of the assembly apprentices were the same; if they weren't fearful of him, then they were trying to pester him to leave. At least he had the conviction to stay and learn; that's more than what he can say about those who had magic handed to them. 

"Your magic isn't stable, which makes the flame weak." You turned away, looking back at the desk. Once you have deemed his seal sufficiently scrutinized, you point at it. "See? The lines are shaky, and the sigils aren't centred. You're never going to get your desired result if you rush like this."

"Aren't the best witches supposed to be able to draw their seals with speed?" Qifrey asked with an annoyed tone. It was one thing to hear Master Beldaruit's gentle criticism, but here you were lambasting his poor attempt at magic.

"Yes, but they also master precision first." You turned back around to look him in his eyes – or eye in his case. You squinted, and he could almost see the slight recognition on your face. "You're the unknowing stray Uncle Beldaruit brought in." Damn it, of course you knew who he was. Now he had to face the same ridicule that he's been receiving from everyone else.

"Quite the harsh way of putting it?" he said with a sardonic smile. Qifrey was finally able to push past you and went to gather his belongings from the little desk. So much for being able to work in peace away from the bustle of the Assembly. He often found himself by the outskirts and near the water barrier in order to find some form of serenity. The occasional droplets that burned his skin made him good at preventing him from letting his guard down. "Now, if you excuse me, I am going to work elsewhere."

Before he could turn away, you managed to surprise him.

"My apologies, I understand how that term can be insulting." You didn't make an excuse, nor did you mince your words to downplay what you have done. Perhaps you had more sense than most of the apprentices that he's had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting. "Unfortunately, there isn't a more… kinder way to explain your kind."

"To your dismay, we are not some otherworldly creature that hides under your bed." Was it truly strange to have people who weren't born into magic enter your world? If knowledge was best shared so that it could be innovated and improve the lives of people, then why were you witches so hellbent on keeping it a secret? He would follow your fallacious rules if only to keep learning about this magic that has ruined his life.

"Well forgive me that I've never had to interact with an unknowing– I suppose human would be a more fitting term." Your insufferable tone returned, long gone any regret from your voice. Qifrey was always confused when the other witches referred to the 'unknowing' as human, as if everyone wasn't made of the same flesh and blood. There was a story in his heart of how the world came from clay, even if he couldn't picture where exactly it came from. 

Yet before he could continue this banter – that Qifrey begrudgingly found some enjoyment in – the Sage of Distrust fell from the sky and landed behind you. Great, not only did he have to deal with you and your insufferable voice, he now had to pretend in front of Vinanna that he was a functional member of magic society. Not that he isn't, but he knows that she is looking for one chance to put him on trial once again and cast him out into this cold and unforgiving world. 

"Dear grandchild?" Her voice was still stern; he wouldn't dare call her soft. But when the great Sage spoke to you, there was an exasperated fondness in her eyes. Like a person who watched their cat knock down another vase. Perhaps you had more of an edge than he gave you credit for.

"Come now, it's almost dinner time, and your parents are worried for you." She turns to Qifrey, and with all warmth drained from her heart, she acknowledges him for the first time during this interaction. "You best return to your master, young one. Beldaruit tends to worry for strays that wander too far from his care."

Qifrey understood quickly where you get your blunt tongue from.

He nodded, bowing slightly with respect. As much as he thought respect should go both ways, he wasn't about to create a scene with you present. He didn't have the chance to make a clean exit when you turned back to call out to him.

"Using fire magic to create a drying spell is needlessly difficult. Try using water magic and use a sigil to repel it away from you." Qifrey internalized the advice, actually finding it quite helpful. Logically, it would make the most sense to try to repel water rather than to loop the fire magic to endlessly keep him dry. But bless your heart, you weren't aware of his aversion to liquid, and he'd rather not practice with something he was petrified about. 

Although maybe it would be best for him to become a master at it. It would be the best way for him to overcome his fear. His poor, unfortunate heart, you gave him much to ponder over this evening. 

Despite the growing distance between the two of you, Qifrey could still hear your grandmother chastising you for speaking to him. Whispered warnings about how you must stay away from that boy and how he might drag you back to that group again. It was the again that caught his attention, wondering what Vinnana could possibly have meant by that. Perhaps the two of you had more in common than he thought, but he shrugged that thought away. There were more important matters at hand, like implementing your advice into his spell.

After he composed his thoughts, he gathered his things and rushed back to the centre of the Assembly, but not before running into another nuisance.

"I see you've met the Great Sage's grandchild!" Olruggio's voice perked up from the side. Qifrey observed him, and with the way he was leaning casually against the wall, it seemed like he watched that entire bastard. What a nosy bastard, and he didn't have the decency to even step in and save him from his humiliation.

"I didn't know the Sage even had a child, let alone a grandchild." He stopped to acknowledge his fellow apprentice, because calling him a friend made his heart creak and his eye ache. 

Olruggio hummed with acknowledgement. "Yes, they don't tend to make an appearance often, letting the more public spectacle fall onto the Sage and their parents. But from what I've heard, they're a prodigy at their craft and every master has been begging them to join their atelier."

Qifrey would hope that you would be half decent at magic. Perhaps that's why you were judging his own seal – probably to see where you would have been had you been born to a regular family. But then how much of your success could be attributed to you as a person rather than the family crest you carried on your chest?

"Besides, they're quite a beauty aren't they? Dare I say they're the prettiest witch in our cohort of apprentices?" Olruggio started to daydream about being your knight in shining armour, and Qifrey could see what he held for you was a childish fantasy at best. He refused to feed into any more delusions that his peer would come up with.

Qifrey does agree, though, that you were quite pretty – pretty annoying that is.

(He dares not think about the way his heart quickened and creaked when you stared at him. Your stare was so heavy that he was tempted to spill all of his secrets at that moment. Whoever you were, you were dangerous to him – your beauty, the most complicated spell and your tongue, the sharpest knife. And he realized all of this before noticing that his left eye started to function less and less as the days went on. The smell of those sweet roses that permeated from your skin was going to haunt him for the rest of forever. Or at least if he was a weaker witch, that was what he thought would happen.)

But it was alright, because he would never have to see you again. The two of you hovered in different social and magical classes. Sure, he was the apprentice of the great Wise in Teachings, and the two of you were apprentices; but that didn't change the fact that you were of noble blood – practically royalty in the eyes of his peers and elders – while he was just some eyeless boy the Sages took pity on.

So when the next day, you plopped down on the bench where he was eating lunch, sitting in the spot where Olruggio usually occupied, he raised his eyebrow with suspicion. You had no food with you, so you weren't looking to sit and have a meal. And if you were, he was sure that any of the other tables would have pushed their own to have you grace them with your presence. He could feel the envy radiating off of the other apprentices – not that he minded all that much. Still, his curiosity was piqued. Why were you here with him and not somewhere else?

"I heard that you have a history with the Brimmed Hats?" From the way you were so sure of yourself, Qifrey didn't know why you even bothered to ask. If he had to suspect, you probably heard from the conversations your grandmother had with your parents. How aggravating that his lack of life was reduced to table-side gossip for you and your family.

He didn't respond to that allegation, just simply nodding to confirm your already confirmed suspicion. You hummed, placing both of your hands onto the table to lean closer and whisper once again into his ear. He tried to keep a straight face, but once again the alluring scent of roses almost lulled him to comfort – a dangerous thing for his poor heart.

"You would be best if you stayed away from those wicked fiends." Your face was solemn, with none of your usual charm– or lack thereof. Qifrey understood why your words held more weight than usual. The talk of the Brimmed Hats was almost forbidden in the assembly, where the adults would rather live in a false reality where everyone followed the pact to the letter of the law. But when it comes to human laws that were treated like natural rules, there will always be those who argue against them. Perhaps it is where their convictions lie, or perhaps they simply wanted to break from the norm.

Yet this agreement not to acknowledge their existence made his investigation harder. No one was willing to speak to him – even after the 'I lost all of my memories' pity card he abused to get what he wanted. But his pain, albeit a little exaggerated for maximum emotional manipulation, wasn't enough to unlock the silence forced upon the people. Even Olruggio would subtly veer his curiosity away towards the more childlike wonder that came with magic.

Except for you. You didn't flinch nor looked away with guilt.

"Who are you to stop me from confronting them?" Qifrey never did like when anyone told him what to do, and he certainly didn't like being condescended to. A quiet anger simmered under his skin, the way a tree would radiate scorching heat when out in the sun for too long.

Your hand goes to the base of your throat like you were going to clear your throat, but there was a slight tension in your neck. It almost looked like you were struggling to breathe. You tried to open your mouth to say something, but all Qifrey heard were choked gasps and a frustrated groan.

"Just… heed my warning," you said after taking a deep breath. You stood up and walked away as if nothing had happened. As if he didn't get a small peek behind your facade, of a young child who was terrified of others making the same mistake as you did. But he wasn't going to listen to you – he couldn't. Not when, for the first time since he begrudgingly called this underwater prison a home, he found a lead for those dreaded Brimmed Hats. 

Qifery apologized to you in his head; he was about to keep you close for the most selfish reasons. It will all be worth it if he can get his eye back. Then, he would be able to properly admire you and all your glory with both of his eyes.

(He didn't need to know that you had your own reasons to keep him close. You weren't naive; the minute you issued your warning, you could see in his eye that he was not going to let this go. That was alright by you, as long as he didn't bring your shared past close to home. You clutch your necklace, praying that the magic seal inscribed upon it will last another day before it needs to be redone.)

When you had started joining the disaster duo on their hijinks and adventures, Olruggio had asked Qifrey why you had started to join them. "It's not that I'm complaining," he said, hands up in surrender. "But isn't it a little odd that the Sage's grandchild has decided to join two nobodies?" 

"You're the prodigy of Godfrey, and I am the apprentice of the Teaching Sage; we're not exactly nobodies," Qifrey clarified. You had brought a certain calm to his reckless plans and Olruggio's constant panic. Whenever either of the young boys veered too far on either end of the emotional scale, you brought them back to centre. It was refreshing having someone be normal – well, as normal as you could be.

The Knights Moralis were tasked to tail you in your everyday life. You weren't even able to walk inside a humble store without having at least two guards standing outside of it. Qifrey found it absurd; yes, you were a child of a Sage, thus were privy to extra protection; however, if the Great Hall was as safe as everyone claimed, then why were you in need of such surveillance? Even if a conflict were to arise, it wasn't like the Great Hall was in a shortage of witches to lend their aid. And even then, he would begrudgingly mention that you were a talented enough witch on your own to handle yourself. 

Qifrey watched as you tried to run away from your guards, your little strides failing to outrun the pace of the Knights. It was almost sad seeing you like this, and in his kindness (really pity), his arm shot out from the alleyway and dragged you to him.

"What are you doing?" you whispered harshly, refraining from yelling so that the Knights don't find you. You didn't resist his hold, following him to wherever you thought he was going. 

Qifrey didn't say a word until the two of you stood in front of his humble abode. Beldaruit had offered a place inside his own home, but Qifrey thought it would be best for him to have some level of independence. 

(The less attached he was, the better it was for his health anyway.)

"You can stay here if you ever need to run away from the Knights," he offered, opening the door to his room. It was less grand than what you were probably used to, but it was his, and he would take pride in it.

You stood there, head turning back to where the Knights were. After taking a moment to ponder – really, it was an obvious decision from the start, you had walked inside his room. Qifrey then walked in himself and closed the door behind him. 

Neither of you had spoken a word, content to sit in the awkward silence. Qifrey had tried to speak up – at least ask how your day had gone, but you had raised your hand to silence him. He huffed, not even knowing why he had offered his room as a sanctuary. Yet it was obvious in the way your shoulders sagged and your breathing deepened that this was the first time in a while that you were able to relax.

(At least, relax as much as the two of you could.)

The first time that this happened, you had let him know that this was never going to happen again. Fine by him, he thought. He couldn't spend another moment with your pompous self. But then the second time, you wandered in because you were in the neighbourhood. The third time, you were breathless and in need of a break from running. By the fourth, Qifrey had stopped believing your excuses.

"You're allowed to admit that you missed me," Qifrey teased, poking your heated cheeks. You didn't confirm his accusation, moving to sit on his bed. But you didn't deny it either.

Qifrey had once thought that this was part of his plan – a ploy to have you lower your guard and give him information on the Brimmed Hats, but he soon got distracted by other conversation topics. Slowly, he realized that he'd learned a lot of things, but none about the Brimmed.

Over these interactions, Qifrey had come to learn more about you beyond the basic information he heard on the street. You specialized in wind magic, creating gusts to help you float or harsh blades in the name of self-defence. That wasn't to discredit the other forms of magic you knew, but it was clear you prefer to wander in and out of the room, like a breeze in the wind or a ghost haunting the living. He had also come to learn that despite your refined upbringing, it often took you half a moment to remember what emotions were. In a room full of laughter, yours would be the last he would hear. Qifrey supposed it was just a quirk of who you were, so drilled with the idea of etiquette, you didn't dare breathe if it wasn't the correct thing to do. 

He'd also come to learn about the things you disliked; the knights were an obvious one, but you also disliked the general crowd and the performed flattery that they provided. The two of you had a shared dislike for the watery walls that surrounded you, and he was surprised to learn that you didn't care for physical touch. It was a shame considering how often he found people granting themselves access to your body.

Qifrey, for what it was worth, had tried to reciprocate the information that you had shared, but the more he tried to think about the little facts about himself, the more rage he felt at what was robbed from him. But still, that didn't stop him from finding peace in these mundane conversations; you were not the Sage's blood, nor was he Beldaruit's stray. Just two children who were able to find friendship with each other.

(Yet after every meeting, his eye would sear with pain, and your heart would be left aching. A phantom pain of what was to come.)

Qifrey had learned through the hard way that the thing you hated the most was when people would spit gossip about you when your back was turned, which unfortunately was quite a common occurrence for you. "I don't understand why people are entitled to information that serves them no purpose," you had once complained to him.

He remembered the one time he had to witness it.

Whispers tend to follow regardless of where you go. It was to be expected given that you are a descendant of a Sage, yet willingly surrounding yourself with those who were below your status. Those rumours didn't bother you all that much, always holding your head above the water. But there was once when someone had asked you about an event a few years ago – a disappearance of sorts. They taunted you, asking how a witch of your calibre could have been taken, even if you were too young to hold a stable pen.

When he saw that person again with a black eye and missing teeth, Qifrey asked you what had happened. He really meant to ask what did you do to that poor child.

"They were prying into business that didn't concern them. I merely gave them a reason to not look any further." Your tone was absolute, and your voice was casual, as if you had done something like this before. In most cases, taking violent action such as this would have landed you on trial with the Knights Moralis, but when your grandmother was the head of it all, it made sense why you hadn't faced any consequences.

Still, he didn't ask you any more questions, lest you decide to take his remaining working eye. 

Despite your refined and sharp edges, Qifrey noticed that it wasn't your natural state of being. You were blunt and enraging at points, but you were never rude on purpose. Whenever he would struggle with a spell, your advice would come in absolutes – do this, and you won't fail. For better or worse, you never hid the knowledge that you knew. It took Qifrey a few months to learn that's how you show your care.

He even saw it in how you interacted with the younger apprentices, taking the time to earnestly answer their questions regardless of how simple they were. You helped them use the right sigils and gave them advice to keep their little hands steady. Qifrey thought about how you would have made a fantastic master and how wonderful your atelier would be. He'd volunteer to be your watchful eye – fiercely protecting your borders from any threats that would dare to lay harm. Somewhere far away in the valleys in the Zozah Peninsula, where you and he can be far away from the stiff air of the Great Hall.

Qifrey hissed in pain, hand clutching his missing eye. You looked over with your eyes furrowed and mouth open to say something. He waved you off, letting you know that it was nothing and for you to attend to your makeshift students. It didn't stop you from keeping your eye on him. 

(He couldn't forget a conversation he heard in passing between two fruit vendors. Of course, they were talking about you because it seemed that the Great Hall didn't have anything else better to talk about. But for once, they weren't criticizing you for some minuscule reason. "It's quite strange to see them like this," one of them spoke in hushed whispers. His eye kept glancing toward the Knight stationed not too far off. "Ever since… their incident, they haven't been the same.")

("Quite a shame too, they were such a bright child. The only ray of light in this underwater city.")

He often wondered what had happened for you to become so jaded. Was it the expectations unfairly placed on your shoulders? The ones you carried with such grace, it was as if you were born with it. Or perhaps it was something darker – something that he knew too well yet couldn't remember.

"Couldn't sleep?" Your voice had broken his concentration, ending another night where all of his thoughts led back to you. You sat beside him on the log – a makeshift seat used to sit around a campfire. Under the light of actual stars, your eyes weren't as dull as usual, and your shoulders weren't as stiff. He liked to see you like this, a glimpse of the child that you kept protected in your heart.

The two of you sat in silence – another thing that he loved about you. Unlike you, many of the other people he's interacted with in the Great Hall would ask him countless questions, from his magic to his past to even about his master. Qifrey didn't have your patience to answer all of them, giving the shortest answers so that he may exit as quickly as possible. Even Olruggio, despite being one of his closest friends, would often fill his silence with his thoughts. He has come to enjoy hearing Olruggio speak, but sometimes, he just wants quiet. Silence that didn't demand to be ended.

You and your darling heart had granted him that peace.

Olruggio snored off to the side, lying on top of a portable sleeping cot that he had brought with him. Qifrey smiled as he watched his friend, both amused and baffled as to how he could fall asleep so quickly. Did he not have dreams that would leave him awake and unsettled? Until the next time he has to fall asleep? He watched his beloved friend as he breathed the air like it wasn't a struggle. Perhaps one day, he too would never feel that rush of panic.

"Do you ever wish you could sleep as peacefully as him?" Qifrey asked, eye turning to look at your face shining in the moonlight. 

You pondered for a moment, letting his question linger in the air. In that quiet moment, Qifrey took his time to observe you. Under the watery prison of the Great Hall, it was clear that you were missing some colour in your face, always tinged a soft blue. But you glowed under the glow of the sun and the light of the moon, colour coming to your face. Utterly ethereal and completely divine, if he had to ascribe a face to the Star who fell for the Silverwood Tree, it would be yours. 

(Wood creaked under his bones and he winced at the pain in his head, begging for his heart to become the seed it was always meant to be.)

As much as he wished to confess to you – despite the odd pain it would bring whenever he thought about it  – he kept his mouth shut. Even on the small chance that you actually felt the same towards him, your status was too much of a difference between you. He would never want to drag you down with him, lest you become subject to even more gossip and vitriol.

A domesticated stray was still a stray at the end of the day.

"I do, though it's quite concerning to see him lose his guard so suddenly." Your criticism was softened by the fondness in your voice. "Doesn't he look like a tired cat who spent the day lazing around?"

"He does," Qifrey chuckled, his own care for Olruggio tainting his voice. He often wished that he could spend forever with the two of you – the most important people in his world. "I do wonder what kind of nightmares a noble child such as yourself would have to suffer. Did your tailor bring you clothing in the wrong shade of red yet still worth more than the gross earnings of the  peninsula?"

You scoffed, opening your mouth to retort to his claim, but nothing came out. Yet again, Qifrey saw the words you desperately wanted to say get stuck in your throat. But this time, you didn't cough like you usually do. Instead, you took a deep breath and continued with a forced deflection. "Do you often have nightmares of what the Brimmed Hats did to you?" 

Qifrey took in a sharp breath. He never spoke about his time with those damned witches, and to your credit, you never asked him about it further after that lunch. Even when Olruggio would become curious as to why Qifrey was so intent on hunting the Brimmed down, you would expertly redirect his attention to something else. You never asked, and he never answered, even if he didn't have anything to go off of.

"It's hard to have nightmares when there isn't anything to remember," he spoke honestly. His hands shook at his vulnerability, and his head seared in pain. After years of repressing his emotions, it somehow felt worse to let it all out.

"I suppose we can count that as a small blessing." You didn't say anything after that, continuing to amuse yourself with the odd sound Olruggio would let out. As much as he wished to agree with you, Qifrey needed answers to everything: his past, his eye and where his future would take him.

A true blessing would be to remove this veil of ignorance. If no one else was going to do it for him, then he would have to do it himself.

After taking his third test, Qifrey had known what his next course of action would be. It was only natural for him to head towards the Tower of Tomes. They say that every single book and writing relating to magic appears in the tower, and surely that would have to include any notes the Brimmed Hats wrote about him. Even a single page would be enough for him to deduce what had happened to him all those years ago.

Qifrey explained the thought process behind his plan with a manic glee, pacing around the room as though he were a mad scientist. "It's a perfect plan!" he exclaimed, ignoring the concerned look his friends were giving each other.

Olruggio, always wanting to be supportive of his friend, was concerned with how obsessive he was becoming. The adventures they were going on, the sneaking out to the outside world and the discoveries they would make were all good fun for him. Yet the minute Qifrey reminded them that his sole focus was on the Brimmed Hats, his mood would sour. Learning about magic to better their skills and help the Unknowing – that had been his reason to become a witch. To see his most dearest perverse such a dream into something that focused on vengeance pained him.

"Promise that once you discover your past in the Tower, you leave it behind to focus on your future," Olruggio pleaded. What was the point of a future if it wasn't one where the three of you were together? To his credit, Qifrey had agreed to his request. He, too, desperately wanted to be free of a burden he was ignorant of.

You, on the other hand, were more hesitant to let him go. Constantly, you would ask if this was truly as he wanted and that perhaps the result of his pursuit of knowledge shouldn't be the answers he desired. That the journey was enough for it all to be worth it, even if he never got the answers he sought. Perhaps even letting the Knights continue their pursuits and putting his need for revenge aside.

"How dare you ask me to leave all of this behind?" he snarled at you when you made your concerns known. You were sitting in your tower, so high that the suffering and plight of those below were unknown. You would only care for the water flooding your people if you were inconvenienced by the smell of their rotting bodies. "The Knights Moralis were never going to grant me the justice that I deserve. Unlike you, I don't have the benefit of being missed." There was enough disdain in his voice to make you step back, but your face didn't lose its composure. 

"Fine, go and discover their secrets. But do not come crying to me when the answer isn't what you wished it to be." With that, you walked away, leaving behind a resolute Qifrey. His heart panged against his better judgment, for he truly wished that you would come with him. For support? For comfort? He wasn't sure – Qifrey just has come to realize that he needs you more than he's comfortable with admitting. With another headache and a heart that was ready to burst, Qifrey walked away to find Olruggio and come up with a plan.

It was a disaster. Despite how many scenarios Qifrey had simulated, there had been no feasible reason for him to expect this. 

A Silverwood Tree. The Brimmed Hats not only took away his eye and past, but they had also violated him so heavily that he cannot have a future. They had decided to rip him into shreds, dig their hands inside of his body for their sick need of knowledge. The Tower of Tomes had plenty of stories on this topic; some myths and legends of people turning into Silverwood Trees and some fact-based research about why this phenomenon occurred. But the information he needed was not there, even after pouring through every page and volume.

There was no cure – his only option was to wait out his days until his skin turned to bark or he died before then.

His head sears with pain. His fingers turned into branches and his hair into leaves. Olruggio's sacrifice spares him a few more years. All in a blur that he would remember for the rest of his waking days. Yet for now, he blocks the memory like a dam in a river, opting to just wait for Olruggio to wake up. There would be time to ruminate and examine his memory, but now he wished that he were back in his room.

He wishes that you were there with him– no, he can't think of you like that. Unless he wished to see Olruggio's pain go to waste.

"Have you come to find your answer, Qifrey?"

Qifrey's head perked up when he heard your voice, whipping his body to see you standing at the edge of the forest. You might have been a figment of his imagination, given that he wished for your presence a few moments before. But as you walked closer, covering Olruggio's unconscious body with your cloak, he came to realize that you were very real.

"Well?" You raised your eyebrow, stopping just short of the edge of the cliff. You didn't sit down next to him as you'd usually do – deciding to loom over him like the ancient statues of bygone witches.

"I didn't learn anything." He couldn't look you in the eyes as he lied. So Qifrey decided to look over the horizon, jealous of the birds flying above with no care in the world. Were they not empathetic to the fact that his entire world had been uprooted for reasons he cannot remember?

"Qifrey, if you are going to lie to me, be a man and do it to my face," you scoffed, kneeling down to meet him at eye level. Your hands gently held his chin, and you moved his face, petrified eyes meeting calm ones. "Are you going to tell me now?"

"There is nothing to tell!" he jerked away from your comforting touch and stood to move away from you. He heaved with rage that he would never be able to bask in your warmth – that someone who wasn't aware of your disdain for the small closets and your love of stars would have that pleasure. He isn't physically able to be the man that you deserve. Even if he was able to shed the title of pitied stray, he couldn't love you in the way that you deserve.

There would be no loving words that would make poets blush. Nor would there be grand romantic gestures with the help of his magic. It pained him to admit it, but he loved and respected you more than to trap you in a stagnant marriage. It would hurt to see you with another man, but perhaps that pain would do him some good.

"How did you even find us here? I thought you didn't want any part of our plan today." Qifrey crossed his arms and stood a few feet away from you. Perhaps if you hated him, it would make this forced separation more bearable.

"I happen to be in the area and saw Olruggio run around in distress," you explained, keeping your voice level despite his indignation. Qifrey often wished that you broke a little more of your shell, to step further away from the dignified noble persona that you were boxed into.

("Quite a shame too, they were such a bright child. The only ray of light in this underwater city.")

"Well as you can see, everything is alright here. You know how Olruggio is, always passing out at the most inopportune times–"

"I'm aware of the parasite that you are afflicted with."

What? Qifrey's mind had gone blank at your statement. What had you meant by that?

Neither of you said anything else, and every time you tried to open your mouth, you stopped before you could let any of the words out. He pleaded with you, begging you to answer the plethora of questions that bombarded his psyche, yet you didn't answer any of them. Qifrey was starting to believe that you couldn't answer any of them.

Instead, your hand slowly went around your neck, fiddling with the necklace you had guarded fiercely. You refused to take it off, despite the amount of teasing the two boys had put you through. Qifrey even once tried to snatch it away from you, before you scratched him with a crazed look in your eyes. It was the most emotion that he'd ever seen on your face. He wished to see more of that side of you.

When your necklace fell from your neck, he would come to realize why you were so protective of it.

From the roots of your hair to its ends, your hair slowly transitioned from what he thought was your natural colour to white with a silver hue. The same as the snow that Olruggio spoke fondly of when he thought of home. The same as the leaves of the Silverwood Trees in the various magical shops.

The same as his own hair, and he had come to realize the reason for his hair. There must have been a magical spell on the necklace – an illusion spell perhaps, that kept your hair a different colour.

You were like him. You were also infected with a Silverwood Tree.

"Why didn't you tell me any of this? Why keep it a secret from me?" he cried, eyes tearing up at the betrayal. You had known what his problem was and perhaps you even knew of a solution, yet you kept your mouth shut. And for what reason? Because the entirety of witch society was so content with turning a blind eye to the suffering of others because it wouldn't fit their narrative? 

What is the reason for compiling all of the knowledge under this starry veil if it is only good for it to be locked up in a tower?

"I thought we were friends– I thought you cared about me!" Anger had become a familiar friend to him, always sitting right under his skin, waiting for a day to be released. You shouldn't have been the recipient of his rage, but you were a representation of everything he had come to hate about the magical world he was forced into. You were privileged enough to be born into a magical family of high status, and you would never understand why there were people who hungered for answers like a starving dog. Not when the whole world was open to you at the tip of your pen. 

You did not take kindly to his accusation, stepping forward into his personal space. "I never kept anything from you! It's not my fault that they–" a violent cough interrupted your speech, leaving you keeling into the ground. You tried to continue to speak to defend yourself and your decision, but you continued to choke and cough, to the point where you spat out blood. It was only when you tried to stop speaking did your pain end.

Qifrey stood above you, concerned and confused. There were points over the years you had known each other where he noticed this odd quirk, but this is the worst he had ever seen it.

You didn't say anything else; your throat was probably still raw from the coughing fit. Kneeling onto the ground, you beckoned Qifrey to come closer, to which he obliged. He knelt in front of you, still keeping his safe distance. You still beckoned him closer, and even with every cell of his body saying otherwise, he still listened to you.

Qifrey sat so close to you that he could see every detail about your face, from the little imperfections in your skin to the ways your eyes had dimmed, despite the sun hanging above you. Olruggio was right, you were absolutely beautiful, and he had been a fool to convince himself otherwise. Now, he would never have the chance to let you know.

"What I am about to show you, you must promise me you won't tell anyone else." Your voice was hoarse, borderline threatening in tone. It wasn't fear that had made him comply, and he didn't want to put a name to that feeling. He nodded, letting you continue.

You tipped your head back and opened your mouth, sticking your tongue out. He thought that this was an odd position, and he was about to stand out of embarrassment, but his eyes noticed a little scar underneath your tongue. Except it wasn't little. There was symmetry and sigils to it. 

It was a magic spell etched into your skin – something that even the freshest of apprentices knew was deeply forbidden. Qifrey stared at it, taking note of the sigils that formed on your skin. He may not know much about forbidden magic, but given his knowledge, he could probably deduce what the purpose of the spell was. It was to keep you silent, and he had an idea about what.

If the Silverwood Tree inside of him was placed inside of him, it was because of the Brimmed Hats… and you had the same parasite, and there was someone who was trying to silence you…

"If you cannot verbally answer my questions, then could you nod an answer?" he asked. An affirmative nod had urged him to continue.

"Was it the Brimmed Hats?" You nodded.

"Did they wipe your memory after?" You shook your head. Why had they spared your memories but taken away his?

"Could you recount your time with them?" You shook your head again. The magic seal on your tongue was put there to keep you quiet, causing you to agonize in pain, and then to talk about your experiences. It was a shame that he wouldn't be able to use your memories.

"Where was the Silverwood Tree implanted in you?" Your hand went over your chest, where your heart was– or supposed to be. Those damned Brimmed Hats took away the heart of the most caring person that he knew. He was going to get his eye and your heart back so that you both could be whole once again.

(Your lack of emotion had started to make sense. How could anyone expect you to emote like a 'normal' person when you didn't have the function to do so. If he cannot see without an eye, it would make sense that you would not be able to feel without a heart.)

Qifrey stood up, eyes cold with rage and focus. He held his hand out for you to hold, pulling you up to your feet.

"Thank you kindly for letting me know of your secret. I promise to hold it dear in my heart, so long as you do the same with me." It warmed his heart knowing that he was the only one who knew you and granted him a sick satisfaction that he would be the only one who did. And he even knew that you would do the same for him.

"Your secret will be safe with me. But we cannot be as close as we once were," you say, an apologetic smile on your lips. He could see the remorse in your eyes and the guilt in your heart. You were right, neither of you could be in the same room together, alone and with no one with a buffer. Lest the tree sprout again, and poor Olruggio would have to lose his memories once again. The permanent ache in his heart left by your absence would at least do well to quell the comfort.

He tried to memorize your face as much as he could, not knowing when the next time he would see it would be. It was awful that he couldn't see you grow into the elegant young adult that you were born and bred to be. Nor would he be able to take you to his dream atelier in the Zozah Peninsula, far away from the nonsense of the Great Hall.

"I understand," he said, nodding solemnly. He walked back to the edge of the cliff and sat back down, waiting for Olruggio to wake up and to pretend that everything was alright. Qifrey hadn't known when you walked back to the Great Hall, just that eventually, when he turned around, there was a sign of you or that you had even come all this way.

Into the wind, he whispers a confession that his heart would never admit. He hoped that the winds would be kind and carry it all the way back to you.

(When you arrived at the edge of the forest, your path had been blocked by tangled vines. You weren't sure where they had come from, but this was no issue for you. You pulled out your little book of premade spells, finishing the seal to summon the wind and slice your way home. It did the trick, and you went on your merry way. But there was a voice in the wind from the boy you had come to care deeply for, despite every reason to not.)

(You pretend you didn't hear it, lest you join the forest. But truly, would it be that awful? At least you would be consumed with the comfort of knowing that you were loved by someone.)

[jellyolks]

can he ever just give me a break… he’s stunning.

[marumaomao]

Threads of Fate

0.0 Intro

[NAME]

28

Dressmaster of Kalhn

Lady Goldweaver

Seamstress

"Do you honestly believe that this is the right thing to do, Qifrey?"

Qifrey

28

Witch Master

Mentor/Teacher

Atelier Master

"Im sure you'd do the same thing for me, [Name]."

Divider by: @angeliicide

Art creds to: tenriblu_ on X (qifrey)

(I cant find the og artist for aglaea kms now but creds to the artist for the wonderful work of my wife aggy 👀)

[starkkat]

The Cure

Summary: You should really stop seeking Qifrey out. It's never the reunion you want it to be; it's messy and angry and it's only ever a temporary relief from the complicated world of the Brimmed Caps. But you can't help yourself, so you continue to find him. And he continues to let you leave when all you have to argue is re-hashed.

Pairing: Qifrey x Brimmed Cap!reader

Word Count: 1.4k~

Content/Warnings: implied SPOILERS for the plot of wha, mentions of disability/chronic pain, angst, exes, hurt no comfort, angry makeout

A/N: yes i am projecting onto reader because i would in fact be bitter enough about witch society being unwilling to use magic to heal to join the brimmed caps as a chronic pain girly. not proofread! enjoyyyy <3

The rain is heavy, almost deafening as the droplets strike the canopy of leaves above your head, but the silhouette of the witch you’re tailing is shielded from the downpour by a sphere of shimmering magic. He’s stooped over in his little bubble of sunshine, plucking some mushrooms from the ground into a basket. It’s been hours of this, lurking just out of sight as you battle internally over whether you really want to speak to him. Whether it would break or mend your heart to hear his voice again.

Your body is beginning to protest the cold of the rain, joints groaning in discomfort as you shift up from the crouch you had held in the brush. You step carefully from the cover of the trees and make your way towards the grey cloaked witch, your approach concealed by the pattering of the rain until you step into the protective bubble.

“Mind sharing your umbrella?”

Qifrey recoils from the sound of your voice as if he’s been burned. As he turns to fix his gaze on you, the glowering expression on his face intensifies when he sees the brimmed cap rested on your head. You should be used to that look by now, but it still sends a brief pang of hurt through your chest.

“Must you always look so venomous when I visit?”

“What do you want?”

Despite the scowl he’s still wearing like armor, there’s a tinge of gentle sadness in his voice as he straightens up. You pout half-heartedly at the way he’s withdrawn his hands into his cloak, obviously in search of his components.

“Just to talk,” You lift your hat from your head, beginning to wring the rainwater from your soaked hair. “To see how you’re doing; how the girls are.”

Qifrey scoffs coldly. “I’m swell, thanks for your concern. We’ve developed a conscience now, have we? Or are you here to collect information for your higher-ups?”

His mocking tone sparks an anger that burns deep in your chest. To suggest you possess no real regard for their well-being, knowing you abandoned witch society in pursuit of the goal he is only willing to chase in shadow, that is a disrespect that cuts deep. You place your cap back onto your head, ignoring the way the crease between his brows deepens as it obscures your eyes.

“Don’t take a moral high ground against me, Qifrey. Don’t you dare accuse me of trading the safety of those children for reputation points among the Brimmed Caps.”

“I’m supposed to believe you joined the Brimmed Caps just for the aesthetics?”

The air buzzes with a simmering tension, as if the forest itself is waiting to see which of you will escape your standoff unscathed. These trees had seen the two of you in every stage of your relationship; the awkward first kiss, the stolen moments away from the responsibilities of teaching, the fallout of realizing some things are too painful for love to mend.

“I did it for us. For you.” Angry tears pool at the edges of your eyes, hot and infuriating in their testament to your emotions. You grit your teeth and force the wavering from your voice. “Not all things can be cured within the confines of the Pact, you of all people understand that; I’m not sorry for having the sense to seek out a solution you’re too cowardly to even consider.”

“Oh, I’m the coward?” Qifrey takes a threatening step towards you, his one eye wide with frustration. “You want to accuse me of cowardice as you hide beneath that brim?”

This was not how you wanted this encounter to pan out. As delusional a hope it was, each time you came you wished for a happier reunion. It never was. You begin to retreat, to put some distance between yourself and him, but Qifrey lunges forward as if on instinct and captures your wrist in his hand.

“Face me and tell me what makes your path deserving of my respect, Brimmed Cap.” He spit the words at you with such vigor that it must knock all sense from your mind.

A tidal wave of emotions crashes through you, and your hand closes around the golden pendant that joins the two halves of his cloak together. You yank him to you, and before your lips have even met, he’s thrown his willowy arms around you, holding you so tightly it hurts. The kiss is desperate and harsh, it’s almost cathartic. You feel your anger dissipate, as if it was merely a toxin you needed Qifrey to siphon from your bloodstream. You lock your arms around his neck, desperate for this to last forever. If you could not have his love, you would drown yourself in his hatred. This messy, hostile tension would have to substitute for the gentle kind of companionship you had once before. He pulls away from you, breathing heavily, and you can only afford enough time for a few gulps of air before you’re pulling his face back to yours. It’s as if the second he withdraws you’ll come unraveled, too fragile to return to the bitter reality of who you both are. This kiss tastes like salt, warm tears that you can’t determine the source of. He’s released his grip on your waist, tangling his long slender fingers up into your hair and knocking your hat from your head.

And then the rain drops onto the two of you like a sheet.

The seal Qifrey had drawn to ward of the water is crumpled in the palm of his hand, ruined in the intensity of your embrace. The drenching is a harsh return to earth; Qifrey shudders with the sudden cold and pulls away from you, sucking in gasps of air as he tries to process what just happened between you. There’s a pain in his expression that makes you want to reach for him, but it feels wrong to now that the moment is over.

“Tell me it’s worthwhile.” Qifrey is boring holes into you with the intensity of his gaze, that blue eye zeroed in on you as if he can see the doubt laced into your heart. You pick up your cap, anxious to replace the shield of the brim onto your head. “Tell me the shred of hope to find some way to be healed with magic was worth throwing your life away. That you don’t regret giving up all you’ve lost in accepting forbidden magic.”

He doesn’t need to elaborate what exactly you gave up. The words hang unspoken in the damp air of the forest.

Tell me it was worth losing me.

Now that his spell is gone, the moisture feels suffocating; though that might just be your heart lodged in your throat that’s making it hard to draw breath.

You’re grateful that the very cap he’s condemning shields your face some as you feel the tears you’ve been collecting again finally cascade down your cheeks. He would take them as surrender; as evidence that you thought you’d made a mistake in pursuing forbidden magic to try and revive the practice of healing witches.

He would be wrong.

“We could have found ways to ease the pain.” Qifrey’s voice is still stern, but it lacks the bite of true anger. “Olly could have made you some contraption to help you manage it, to help make drawing easier.”

You flex your hands anxiously within your cloak, the dull ache you know will crescendo into agony after a day spent in the chilling rain making itself known with each movement. No number of herbs, Healing Spire visits, or warming contraptions from Olruggio could rid you of that horrible pain nestled deep in your bones.

“We would have kept looking for our antidotes together. You would have had my love to soothe your pain.” The slightest crack is there in the words my love.

“Your love was never going to be my cure.”

The guilt that strikes you as you say it seems to tilt the earth beneath you; you feel sick.

“Then why do you return to me like a moth to flame? Why torture us both with ghosts of what was?”

There’s no good answer you can give. He’s a vice to you, a reprieve from the darkness of your world that you selfishly seek out like an antidote to your fear. He can’t save you, but he’s like the umbrella spell in a way, a patch of sun to retreat to when the sky unleashes a downpour.

“Until next time, Qifrey.” You tug the brim back down to conceal your eyes, closing out your own umbrella spell and once more shielding the small clearing from the heavy rain. You leave behind the seal as you turn your back on the silver-haired witch, a feeble attempt at an apology for ripping open old wounds.

Perhaps one day there will be a world in which you two can reconcile your differences. But for today, you must leave him. Even if it’s a pain more agonizing than any physical ache you’ve ever experienced.

──────•✦•──────

Creds to @/pixopix for divider!

[marumaomao]

1.0 Seamstress of Kalhn

Summary : Winter is right around the corner, and Coco seems to have left her winter clothes back in her old home. No need to worry,it seems like their master knows someone who can weave her clothes in no time. A quick visit to her shop will do!

Pairing : Qifrey x Aglaea!Reader

Word Count : 1.5k

A/N : oh the yearner qifrey... anyways,here is the anticipated fic of mine! hope i didnt make them too OOC.. hope you all enjoy as much as i did when i wrote this chapter <33 also i use [Y] instead of [name] since its much faster and easier for me to use, hope u all understand 🫶🫶

Fall was later on coming to an end. Its lingering warmth soon began to fade, replaced by the winter air over the countryside. Gold and brown leaves can be seen scattered on the ground as frost covered its remains. Winter was just around the corner, making people inside the atelier prepare for the upcoming season. The children anticipated all the activities they could do in the snow. Building snowmen, creating snow angels, and most importantly, warming themselves with the hot chocolate prepared by their master, Qifrey. The atelier was busy setting up the fireplace and making the place as cozy as possible. The atmosphere was suddenly interrupted by- 

“Achoo!" sneezed Coco, rubbing her nose as her body shivered at the chill of the winter air. 

“Coco, are you alright? Are you feeling sick? Oh no, what if it gets worse? How can we play in the snow when you're feeling unwell??” Tetia asked her a flurry of questions, panicking by the second.

“No..no…” she just smiled at her friend and continued "Tetia, I'm alright.. it's just I'm feeling a little bit chilly, that's all" Coco reassured her, waving her hands to emphasize her point. 

"Oh... Really? I'm glad that you're fine, Coco, though I can say that it is a bit cold in here lately.. winter is approaching after all!" Tetia replied, looking at Coco's state, her brows furrowing worriedly as she noticed Coco was shivering. 

"Coco... You're shivering! Why didn't you tell me earlier? C'mon, Master Qifrey maybe has a scarf you can use!” Before Coco could protest, Tetia grabbed Coco's hand, pulling her into their master's direction by the fireplace. 

Soft yet rushed footsteps can be heard by Qifrey as he looked towards the noise, his gaze falling upon Coco's shaking body and Tetia's worried state upon her friend.

“Oh dear… Tetia, why is Coco shaking?” Qifrey asked worriedly as he walked towards the two children. 

“Master Qifrey, Do you have a scarf we can borrow? Coco doesn't have one.” Tetia asked, her voice filled with worry.

Qifrey said nothing and crouched down while removing the scarf around his neck and wrapped it snugly around Coco's neck as her body relaxed at the sudden warmth, she looked at him smiling.

“Thank you, master… But what about you? Won't you be cold instead?” Coco asked worriedly as Qifrey just chuckled and smiled at her.

“No worries, Coco, I have some extra scarves in my room" Qifrey reassured her before continuing, “But do tell me, do you not have any clothes for the winter? You won't be able to enjoy playing with the others if you're freezing," he asked, concerned. 

Coco flushed under his gaze and replied, "Well... I do have some, but... They're at my house..." Coco said, her gaze turning sad as she remembered the state of her home and her mom.

Qifrey looked at her, his gaze turning tender before taking her hands into his warm ones. "Well, that was my mistake, Coco... Don't worry, we made a promise that we'll save your mom no matter what, right?” He asked softly. 

"Yeah...I remember.." Coco replied, her voice weak but trusting.

Qifrey squeezed her hands and continued "How about this, Coco... I'll have your winter clothes made, as it's not safe to go back to your home to fetch your old ones yet."

Coco's eyes widened at his words. "B-but wait! Aren't winter clothes a bit costly to be made?! Especially right now…when winter is almost here…" she stammered and continued, “N-no need, Master! I'll just borrow Agott's or even Richeh's clothes!” Coco replied, her voice panicking at the thought of her master spending all his money for her needs. 

Tetia giggles broke through Coco's panicked state, and she grabbed Coco's shoulders, shaking her gently. "Hehe, there's no need to worry, Coco. master knows someone who can make your clothes at a low price!" she said, smiling. 

“Tetias right Coco. Besides, I have a friend who will definitely make your clothes for you in no time." Qifrey chuckled as he patted her head gently.

"Really...?" Her eyes lit up in curiosity. “Who is that friend of yours, master?"  Coco asked curiously.

Tettia happily said, “Lady [Y], of course! She makes the most beautiful dresses I have ever seen! She even designed and made our current robes for us!” she replied, her eyes full of happiness and wonder at the works of this so called lady [Y].

She then pouted "But... Lady [Y] hasn't visited us in a while. She says she's busy," she sighed sadly, her shoulders drooping in sadness. "She still sends letters and treats to us when she's free….” she closed her eyes and continued "But it's not the same…! I miss Lady [Y] so much!’’ she exclaimed, her pout deepening at the memory of [Y]’s last visit. 

“Now, Tetia... We all know how busy she can get. After all, she's not named the dressmaster of Kalhn for no reason," Qifrey comforted and sweatdropping at her depressed state.

“...Dressmaster of Kalhn?” coco said aloud, her eyes widening in realization 

“You mean THAT Lady [Y]??!” she shrieked as she cupped her cheeks in amazement  “Master you mean you're friends with THE Seamstress??!!” Her eyes sparkled with admiration as she grew excited at the thought of meeting her in real life after hearing all the countless praise and rumors of her work before Qifrey took her in.

"Well... yes" he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck shyly, “we have been friends back when we were apprentices." He let out a small chuckle at her amazed state.

"Amazing, isn't she?…" he murmured, smiling, “even after losing her eyesight..." He whispered, eyes darkened at the memory of what the brimmed caps did to her that caused her disability. But the shadow in his eyes disappeared quickly as he clapped his hands happily, giving them a warm smile, and continued, "How about we all visit her shop tomorrow?" he suggested "In that way, she can measure Coco's size for her clothes while also hanging out with her!" Qifrey said cheerfully before continuing, "After all, it's been a while since we talked to her face to face, right?" he said happily as Tetia bounced with excitement.

“Yes! Oh, that's a great idea, master! I'll have so many stories to tell to her again!” she giggled, her eyes shining as she jumped around the room eagerly.

Coco and Qifrey just stared and let out soft smiles at her enthusiasm. It's as if tomorrow couldn't wait enough as they all began to prepare their stuff for their visit at Lady [Y]’s shop. 

The trip to Kalhn was not far, but it was full of excitement, mostly coming from Tetia, as the rest just tried to keep up with her happiness. 

"Tell me why… Do we have to come too?” Agott asked flatly 

"We're visiting lady [Y] for Coco's winter clothes! Oh, and to also check up on her since it's been a while since we talked to her in person" Tetia said happily. 

“Lady [Y]…" Richeh hummed "I would like to see her again too." 

“See? Even Richeh agrees! Agott, you miss Lady [Y] as much as we do, you just don't want to say it!" Tetia giggled as the rest laughed at Agott's flustered state.

They all arrived outside [Y]’s shop, it was bustling with customers as they all picked up their clothes for the winter.

Qifrey grabbed the handle of the door, letting out a small jingle as he looked at Coco. "Well then, shall we go inside?" he asked before pushing open the door and going in as the rest followed. 

Coco stood in awe at the sight of the shop. It was full of dresses, some are still unfinished, but most were completed beautifully. Rows of fabric lined up on the walls, each with different colors and textures, the room itself looked like it came out of a picture book. She saw a woman happily chatting with a lady behind the counter as the woman bid goodbye,clutching a dress what seemed like clothes appropriate for winter. 

Coco's eyes widened as she saw the appearance of the lady behind the counter. She is the most beautiful woman Coco saw in her entire life. Soft, pale skin, wavy, short hair with soft bangs framed perfectly on her face and 2 strands of curled hair framing either side of her face and draping just beyond her shoulders. Her face is what strikes coco the most. Soft and delicate features and eyes so striking that they seemed to know everything but had secrets of their own. Despite this, her eyes seemed empty and had no pupils.  Coco's eyes faltered at the realization.

“This woman… She's blind? ” she thought, as her gaze turned somber.

As if sensing her stare, the lady turned around and looked at Coco before smiling softly. 

“Oh? It seems I have a new guest. Little one, welcome to my shop" she said happily.

Before Coco could respond, Qifrey stepped in front of her and greeted the lady.

“Long time no see, [Y]." Qifrey said softly as he smiled at her before taking her knuckles to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss in greeting.

"......Huh?” Coco thought in shock, continuing “HUHHHH???” she shrieked in her head as she stared at the scene and thought

“This woman…IS LADY [Y]?!!” Her mouth fell slightly open, stunned at the scene and the realization that this blind woman is the seamstress, the dressmaker of Kalhn, the goldweaver… the Lady [Y]. 

Divider by: @angeliicide

[jung-koook]

I saw this pic and some people are saying that jeongguk's earrings are too heavy and that's why his ears look like that. but guys, jeongguk used to wear gauges when he debuted, which is why his ears look that way.

in fact, he had already done it before debuting 🤌 they were very iconic

[mystarstruckself]

Old Habits Die Hard

Qifrey x BrimmedHat!Reader x Olruggio 

Summary: You were only supposed to observe. Sit quietly, gather information, and leave without anyone noticing. Simple enough, except you forgot to account for the fact that Qifrey and Olruggio know exactly how you think. And now, thanks to one catastrophically backfired spell, you're not going anywhere at all.

Tags: Forced proximity, Tethered, friends to enemies to lovers?!, Brimmed hat reader, Shared history, It's so complicated, Olruggio and Qifrey being a united front, She's trying so hard to stay guarded, Slow burn, Found family if you squint

Warnings: Action scene, Minor injuries, Morally grey reader, Complicated loyalties

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You slid, ducking to avoid the onslaught of spells hurling towards you, courtesy of Qifrey. As annoying as his relentless pursuit of you was, you couldn’t deny that he was good. Scarily good, in fact. His sheer knowledge of magic theory allowed him to keep up with you even though he wasn’t utilizing any forbidden magic. 

You winced at the burn of a scrape against your leg.

Olruggio had momentarily disappeared again. Though this time you expected it. Their pattern was simple yet effective. Qifrey aimed to overwhelm and draw all focus to him. In the gaps in your concentration, Olruggio swung in with a powerful blow, trying to catch you off guard. It had nearly worked. 

Your eyes widened at the recognition of Qifrey’s pattern wavering, a sure indication of Olruggio’s pending attack, except it never came.

You flew back, angling your sylph shoes, thrown at the sight of Qifrey suddenly much closer to you than before. You cursed, hand clutching your pen ready to draw furiously before Olruggio barreled into you from behind.

Your sylph shoes disconnected from each other, sending you and Olruggio free-falling towards the ground. He gripped his hand against your shoulder, thumb biting into your collarbone, trying– and failing– to wrangle you into a still position.

“Stop resisting” He growled into your ear.

You thrashed, bringing your knee up to push against his stomach in an attempt to release his hands from your frame.

How bothersome. You were only supposed to bring intel for the Brimmed Caps. You really weren’t a combative witch. You hated going on missions that could warrant talking to people, forget getting into a fight with them. 

You yelled in frustration as Olruggio brought you into a crushing hug, trapping you beneath his muscled arms. You squinted trying to see through the spinning of your quick downward spiral.

That’s why you had liked this mission in the first place. It was quiet and easy. Just sit and observe the comings and goings of Qifrey’s Atelier, unnoticed. How hard could that be? Plus, you were extra qualified for the job given you knew Qifrey and Olruggio quite well considering how close you were back when the three of you were apprentices at the Great Hall. You knew how they worked, how they thought. So how had this gone so terribly wrong?

You yelped in pain as Qifrey collided hard into the pair of you, crushing you as he attempted to slow your quick descent while holding onto you with a vise-like grip. You groaned, trying to push away from Olruggio’s rough embrace onto to feel your back push against Qifrey’s unmoving front. You were sandwiched. 

You really weren’t a combat witch. They only sent you because you knew Qifrey and Olruggio better than the other Brimmed Hats. You truly knew them. And they knew you. That’s how they had trapped you so quickly. Afterall, you were only really good at crafting spells and what good was that talent in a fight? 

You couldn’t help but smirk, bitterly to yourself. 

What they hadn’t realized was that your crafting had come quite far in your years apart.

You shut your eyes, relaxing into their crushing hold. There was a spell you were quite eager to try. Why not try it now? 

You slowly wriggled your hand up to grasp your necklace– your last chance.

It was a repellent spell. It was simple really. So simple you were rather shocked no one else had thought it up. When activated, whomever or whatever was in direct contact with the user would be propelled far away. As if they were two positive poles on a magnet, theoretically.

You grimaced, hands hesitating against the cool metal of your necklace.

Theoretically, it would launch them away. Had you tried it yet? Not really. But the spell was self explanatory, and you had yet to craft a spell wrong, and really did you have another choice?

You steeled your nerves, fingers moving to rotate the wheel of the necklace, connecting the spell.

At first nothing changed. 

You unfurrowed your brows, biting your lip in confusion, wrapped between the two men, hurdling to the ground, before a sudden burst of brilliant light blinded you.

You felt their grips loosen slightly before leaving you entirely at the feeling of searing heat at the spots their hands just were.

You couldn’t help the scream of pain that left you at the blistering heat.

Though you supposed you should be glad that it at least worked. Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to be too pleased. Why had it burned so horribly? That didn’t make sense. Something must have been off. But, at least, you were no longer being trapped between two broad chests anymore.

As quickly as the hands on you were gone, Qifrey crashed back into you, bracing his arms beneath the crook of your knee and the small of your back as he slammed his Sylph shoes together slowing the pair of you down just short of hitting the ground hard.

He groaned in a mix of relief and frustration before letting you push out from his grip.

You turned away from him quickly only to be met by Olruggio rubbing his forearms with a pained expression, presumably from the effects of your spell.

You paused, brows furrowed in thought.

So they had felt the heat too? But if that were true then they would have gained the same you did from the spell. So why weren’t you launched away from them? Or perhaps the effects nullified? 

“What was that?” Qifrey rasped, rubbing at his sternum. He stood hunched over as if his body were begging him to collapse but his mind refused to let you go.

You dully registered Oruggio's determined stomp towards your direction before you instinctively stumbled back, still reeling from the effects of your ineffective spell.

He paused as if reevaluating whether getting into another chase with you was a smart idea, or something he would be able to even keep up with. You were always annoyingly good at running away from them.

Not giving him the liberty of deciding, you turned on your heel, breaking into a sprint away from where the three of you had crashed.

That blasted necklace. What a terribly crafted spell, you cursed yourself.

You risked a look over your shoulder, more to reassure yourself that you could get away. Yet, instead of them chasing quickly at your heels you watched as they stood unmoving, right where you had left them.

You scoffed. 

You must have tired them out.

That was a step up, you supposed. Back in your training days they used to run circles around you when it came to sparring. Though that hadn’t necessarily changed. You had just found ways to adapt.

You felt it before it happened. A sort of pull in the wrong direction, as if you were being repelled by some force– like the ink of a spell was fighting back. 

You made it maybe ten steps before the air solidified against you, hard. It wasn’t a wall exactly, more like the wrong end of a magnet.

You yelped in surprise, bracing yourself as you fell backwards.

Still, the pull didn’t go away. You winced, rubbing your chest in attempts to dispel the magnetic-like yank before your body started to move, dragging back towards where Qifrey and Olruggio were still standing. 

You scrambled into a sitting position, digging your heels and palms into the soil in a desperate attempt to stop the force dragging you back to them to no avail. You sped up faster and faster before colliding into Olruggio’s, now crouched, form.

He grunted at the force of the impact winding one arm around your waist and bringing the other to catch himself.

You feel a shiver run through you at the feeling of his strong forearm pinning you tight to him. Your own hands moved to rest against his arm as if to pull it away, but for some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

You look up, squinting through the sun to stare at Qifrey, hovering over you. There were deep lines of stress in his face, present even as a child but more pronounced now. The once light and airy smile he once reserved for you was now a hard set line.

You groan, more in annoyance as you collapse back into Olruggio’s front, huffing.

Of course, the one time you want to try a new spell it just has to backfire entirely.

“What’s going on?” Olruggio rumbled, sending pleasant shockwaves through you at the feeling of his hum hitting your back.

Your gaze remained trained on Qifrey. How long would it take him to figure it out, you wonder. He was always clever when it came to deciphering the way you thought. 

“This is one of your spells isn't it?” He ventured to guess, nudging his head towards the invisible wall you had hit.

You sighed, dusting off your clothes, more so that you had something to do rather than just sit, trapped between Olruggio’s hold and Qifrey’s stare. 

“Yeah.” You offered, lamely.

The three of you plunged into a heavy silence, disturbed only by the rustle of your movements.

Unfortunately, it was one of your spells. Honestly it was quite impressive. You had never crafted a spell that backfired so horribly that it did the exact opposite of what it was intended to do.

Qifrey crouched down to your level, though he wasn’t looking at you, but rather your necklace. You couldn’t help but hold your breath as he moved to grab the cool metal with delicate fingers, grazing them against the flesh of your neck. 

He scrutinized the spell, leaning forward in his own focus until his face was mere inches from yours. You flushed, squirming in Olruggio’s hold.

“Olly, you can let me go, you know.” You gritted, angling your head back in attempts to catch Olruggio’s eyes. 

“And risk you running again? No thanks.” He deadpanned, not unkindly. 

You oddly found yourself glad at that fact before shaking your head, cursing at yourself. You had left them. They weren’t your people anymore. They shouldn’t be kind and you shouldn’t crave their kindness.

“You can let her go. She won’t run– she can’t.” Qifrey concluded, dropping the necklace, allowing it to thump back against your chest, though he didn’t move back.

“Your spell was quite wrong.” 

Olruggio loosened his grip, but also chose not to move.

You huffed, rolling your eyes as you stretched your neck, relieving it from its soreness. 

“Really?” You offered, uninterested.

You couldn’t help but bask in the comfort of their presence. You should be repulsed or even alarmed by how close they were, but all you felt was familiarity. A dull ache of remembrance at how life used to be.

“Next time you should use a sort of binding spell on yourself. Something that would make you temporarily impossible to hold onto.” Qifrey continued, ever the critique.

You felt a brow quirk up in amusement, “I thought you were against forbidden magic?”

“I am.” He corrected, voice suddenly sharp. “But that never seemed to stop you before.” You couldn't help but wince at his sudden tone switch. 

You had always found yourself rendered useless in anxiety when Qifrey would switch to the meaner version of him, threatening and erasing memories. Though usually, it was never aimed at you.

“Can someone explain what the hell is going on?” Olruggio grumbled.

You looked towards Qifrey, almost instinctively, to find his gaze already focused on you.

You sighed, turning to better face both of them.

“I wrote a new spell. One that would repel whomever was touching me. But, it backfired and instead I’m bonded to them.” 

Olruggio stared at you blankly before moving his gaze to Qifrey as it to verify what you were saying.

You rolled your eyes, “I’m not lying.”

“Well, it’s not like you haven’t lied to us before.” Olruggio bit back without missing a beat.

You bit your tongue, looking down to your nails.

They weren’t wrong. You had lied. You had abandoned them. You had switched sides.

“So what then?” 

You look up at the sound of Qifrey’s question. 

“How long does it last?”

You furrowed your brows, wracking your brain for some answer you could give them.

You hated this. You hated not knowing something that you were supposed to be a master at. What could you possibly tell them? That you didn’t know? That you had acted rashly just as you always had? You were supposed to be changed– better. That’s why you were with the brimmed hats, afterall. What would they think when they realized you had acted just as stupidly as you used to act.

Qifrey brought his hand up to poke, noncommittally at your cheek. 

You looked up at him to find his gaze trained on you expectantly. 

How could they stand to look at you with something akin to kindness? How could they not feel anything but red hot anger? 

You turned to look at Olruggio. If you squinted you might even dare to say he was looking at you with a look of distant fondness.

You felt your stomach twist. 

“I don’t know.” 

“You don’t know?” 

“No.”

The three of you sat in silence. You fiddled with the blades of grass under you. 

How would this even work? Would you stay at the Atelier? Would you become close to those four girls of theirs? Or would the brimmed hats track you down? You had become somewhat valuable to them, your innovations fueling a lot of their movement. How would they react when you didn’t come back at the end of the week? “Stay.” Qifrey’s voice came out so quiet you almost missed it.

You stared at him in shock. He wanted you to stay? After everything? After all the time that passed? After what you had become?

You turned to look at Olruggio, craving a confirmation from him too. 

He stared back at you with furrowed brows. 

“And when the brimmed hats come back for her?”

You flinch at the accusation in his voice, no matter how true it was.

“I don’t know. What choice do we have though?” Qifrey questioned, voice hushed as if trying for a semblance of privacy.

Privacy from you.

You felt something twist bitterly in your stomach. Suddenly, for the first time, you felt as if you were on the outside of your little trio.

They argued back and forth for a little longer before turning their attention back to you. You can’t help but flush under the heat of their stares.

Olruggio cleared his throat, “Fine. You stay. Just until we figure this–” He gestured between the three of you.

Qifrey pushed off the ground, dusting his clothes off before holding his hand out to Olruggio and then to you.

Just like old times. You see the realization hit him too. How natural it felt. As if no time had passed at all.

You stare at it before pushing off the ground yourself, leaving his hand suspended and empty.

“The atelier is just past this hill.” Olruggio mumbled.

“I know.” You respond before you could think.

“Right.” Olruggio offered back, awkwardly.

You cursed yourself as the two began the trek back.

How could this possibly work? You would be stupid to delude yourself into thinking things would be how they used to. The two of them were as close as ever– closer even. And you were a brimmed hat. 

You gasp at the now familiar pull in your chest, yanking you hard into Qifrey’s back. He stumbled, huffing in surprise at the force of your speed. Olruggio turned, closing his hand around your waist and Qifrey’s chest in attempts to stop the momentum of your collision.

“Sorry– sorry” You spluttered, blushed red in embarrassment. “I’ll keep up.”

Olruggio sighed, turning away from you to keep walking, followed quickly by Qifrey.

They didn’t wait for you, but they didn’t have to. 

You knew your way home.

Author's note: If you wanna be on my taglist just say so in comments!

ALSO GUYS IM SORRY IK THE VOTE SAID ONESHOT/MORE INFO BUT I DIDN'T WANNA SPOIL AND IM TEMPTED TO MAKE A PART TWO... But hope yall like!

[oddcatinnit]

The Steeping Point

When a young, methodical FBI specialist is embedded with Lisbon’s team, the friction with Patrick Jane is instantaneous. He views your federal protocols as a fragile shield for your youth; you view his confidence and charm as a dangerous distraction. But as the case deepens, the biting remarks begin to feel less like insults and more like a dare, where the only thing left to dissect is each other.

Contains: smut, fluff, comfort, age gap ( +/- 10 years), enemies (?) to lovers, forced proximity , angst

⤷ NOW PLAYING: ▶︎•၊၊||၊|။|||||။၊|။•

Chapter 1: Gunpowder Green Chapter 2: Ginger & Lemon Zest Chapter 3: Chamomile & Honey Chapter 4: Earl Grey Chapter 5: Silver Needle

Chapter 6: Dragonwell

Chapter 7: Kuding

Chapter 8: Peppermint & Rose

[33forthew1n]

the future is baby blue 👣

a macklin celebrini x teen!mom!reader series

when you find out you're pregnant, your world completely changes. you're eighteen and your boyfriend is an eighteen year-old hockey player.

everyone tells you that this baby is the greatest mistake you two will ever make. you keep it anyway.

along the way you learn about love, trust, heartache, and adulthood. there's nobody but macklin you'd have done this with.

SERIES MASTERLIST

chapter one: normalcy

chapter two: uni life

chapter three: baby scare

chapter four: his

chapter five: her

blurb: showing

chapter six: scan & sister

blurb: baby fever

chapter seven: reactions

smau blurb: public

blurb: protective

chapter eight: a second alone

blurb: just us and baby boy

chapter nine: our home

blurb: leo reid celebrini

chapter ten:

etc...

(CURRENTLY TAKING REQUESTS AND SUGGESTIONS)

(in chronological order, NOT posted order!)

comment here to be tagged