Thanks so much for writing my request!!!!! The idea has been lingering in my head for like a week already and your fic is perfect… idk how to describe it but the way you write is so beautiful especially with your hurt comfort works oh my
Thank you sososo much for taking the time to dm me!
I'm glad you enjoyed it! I had sooooo much fun with the writing process, I'm entirely devoted to hurt/comfort ( ⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝)ㅤ 𖹭
Hello!!! Your writing style is absolutely beautiful! Was wondering if I could request a romantic qifrey or olly (or both separately) x reader fic where reader is so touch starved that they tend to get emotional, tear up or even cry when receiving a lot of affection? And the first time that happens qifrey/olly’s confused and scared that he hurt reader in some way but then reader just admits that theyre so relieved to finally receive what theyve been missing for so long
Thanks so much!!!
〈 𝚞𝚗𝚛𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚕 〉
╰┈➤ I loved, loved, looooved your request, thank you! I might do Olly too in the future once I'm done with working on requests.
I'd be ecstatic about receiving your feedback on this! ♡
◍ synopsis: “You are stuck in an emotional whirlwind, your innermost storm creating ripples, awakening waves, unleashing surges. The violent delight of elation washes over you, it’s all-consuming.”
✎ word count: 1277
♡ characters: qifrey • reader
⟡ tags: romance • love confessions • touch-starved • so many kisses • reader insert
You are still utterly nervous. Butterflies rampaging through the entirety of your abdomen. Qifrey and you have been dancing around each other for a few weeks now and even the fact that you’ve known each other for years doesn’t ease your insecurities.
You sit on the bed behind his desk waiting silently for him to finish his latest writings, taking a peek every so often to observe his progress. You are a patient person, just not today. The tapping on your thighs and the swinging of your legs betraying you.
Qifrey must’ve noticed as he places his glasses and pen back on the desk, carefully not to spill any ink.He makes himself space between your dangling legs, standing in front of you – tall and slender with the definition of his torso clearly visible beneath the tightness of his shirt. He looks absolutely divine, like being plucked from the ancient canopies above.
He leans down to cup your face placing a tender kiss on your forehead. You haven’t dared to take a step further until now. After all, Qifrey is the first you let yourself be touched by, in any kind. You evaded hugs and even shaking hands, the anxiety was too grand to overcome. You are determined to achieve progression and Qifrey has lightened each and every burden until now. You want to kiss him, badly, on the lips. The thought provokes a deep pink flush spreading on your cheeks reaching the highest point of your ears. You are hopeless, hopelessly infatuated.
And the idea of being touched by Qifrey, in any way he allows, makes you feel a kind of uneasy that is all but negative. It’s longing to be seen, to be heard in a way that tugs at your heart, bursting from longing.
You move backwards to create space on the bed away from the ledge, patting the space signaling him to join you sitting on the bed. Qifrey gladly accepts the invitation and is facing you now, patiently observing your movements but you are frozen from nervousness. Not knowing how to continue is what you feared the most, you don’t have any experience and handling things naturally only works when you aren’t stuck in a motionless limbo of hesitancy.
Qifrey takes the lead, pulling you in a loose embrace that progressively grows tighter the longer it takes as if to give you room to escape. Being so close to him is an extraordinarily meaningful experience. A feeling of warmth and a nurturing softness engulfs the bodily parts involved. It feels incredibly comforting and you wish you could stay forever just like this, being held and to hold in return.
“You fit perfectly in my arms.” A whisper placed an inch too close to your ear. A tempest rages through your body, heart hammering against your ribcage. The sensation leaves you wanting more. You want the embrace to be tighter, to melt into him until you are all but one. It’s an odd sensation, feeling like you could never be as close as you needed to – like crawling beneath his sternum and residing there and the longing would still persist.
When your embrace slowly finds an end, you feel a single sound of disappointment rise in your vocal cords. Qifreys lips curl into a satisfied smile with cheeks reddened like yours. You wish to know the content of his thoughts. Would they’ve been similar? Perhaps he imagined taking this further, to press you into the mattress, to lean above you as you writhe benea-
Your thought process gets interrupted by your face being cupped into gentle hands. Long, slender fingers forever painted by differing hues of ink framing your face while his thumbs are caressing the soft skin of your face, rubbing circles. You lean into him, eyes fluttering close.
His hands tilt your head ever so slightly and nothing could’ve ever prepared for what follows. The softest brush of lips against yours. A warm current floods your veins and washes over the entirety of your body, residing in your cheeks at last. Every nerve erupts in radiant sparks. And then you look at him with parted lips, inches from yours. Eyes fluttered open and focused on yours, yet it feels like him gazing underneath all the layers right down to your soul. Laid bare for him to claim.
You press your lips back on him not being able to endure any space between the two of you. Time loses its meaning, any existence but his erased from your mind. Ears ringing to the beat of your heart threatening to burst at any given moment. Qifrey is the sole culprit of the wave of emotions tugging at your heart.
Endearment.
“You taste like heaven.” Whispered with the brightest smile you have ever witnessed on him. He looks radiant, outshining the sun with its luminous rays. Everything about him is gentle and tender - the feeling of his now bruised lips on yours, the way your bodies meet whenever the kiss deepens, his hands holding your face.
Adoration. Infatuation.
“I can’t stop wanting to kiss you.” A breathless confession against your lips. Leaving you mesmerized by his ability to deepen the sensations you are experiencing with his mere words. Being cherished by him, it’s the greatest joy you have experienced yet.
Desire. Longing. Yearning.
You continue to kiss again and again only parting to catch your breath. You want to savor this moment for eternity. You have been yearning to find solace in him. To be his and solely, his. Years of pent-up walls crumbling, crashing down in an instant. Leaving behind ruins, devastating consequences. A soul waiting to be reshaped, waiting to give the entirety of its cosmos to him. The promise of a lifetime, of lifelines intertwined.
You are stuck in an emotional whirlwind, your innermost storm creating ripples, awakening waves, unleashing surges. The violent delight of elation washes over you, it’s all-consuming. Tears swelling in your eyes on the brink of collapse as you frantically try to hold yourself together.
“I’ve wanted this for so long.” Another whisper, another confession and yet it suddenly leads to an unbearable unraveling of emotions. Tears held back moments ago streaming freely down your cheeks, the quietest of sobs escape between heated kisses until lips part.
Lack of lips on yours feels entirely wrong.
Qifreys expression is nothing short of horrified thinking he hurt you or worse – did something you didn’t consent to but were too afraid to stop. He stutters, stumbles over his own words until you hush him with a peck on his dry, bruised lips. You wipe your tears and lean your head against his shoulder. A faint chuckle escapes you in the process.
“If I didn’t do anything wrong. Perhaps, I did everything right?”
Precisely, the reasoning behind the grand emotions letting lose. You didn’t think being this physically vulnerable with him would overwhelm you, being starved of any touch after avoiding it for what feels like an eternity. It’s fascinating as it’s terrifying.
Qifrey lifts your head, framing your face with his fingers again – just like the endeavor of your unraveling began. Featherlight kisses, barely touching your blazing skin, placed carefully over the faint traces of tears that once streamed down your face. Emitting a gentleness that almost elicits another wave of them.
Qifrey places a kiss on your forehead and pulls you back in an embrace. You relax into his touch without realizing how stiff your body has been before. He feels warm, comforting even. Hearts beating in unison. You found what was amiss in all those years.
A home for your heart, a place for your soul to rest.
So like, imagine qifrey and fem!reader as children. Reader is Beldaruit’s daughter but didn’t study under her father because she didn’t want to be accused of nepotism or something, so she studied under another atelier. But her master was a predator and stuff and she was sa’d, and was always stuck in the atelier—never really knowing what freedom felt. Now imagine if she and Qifrey met (thanks to Beldaruit) and they grew closer and reader confessing that Qifrey made her realize what freedom really is 🥹 honestly it’s basically a love confession at this point
I HOPE ITS UNDERSTANDABLE 🙏 If you don’t like this request or uncomfortable with the topic, then you can just ignore this :)) it’s just something I made up in a whim hehe. I really love you work sm!🫶
〈 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 〉
╰┈➤ Thank you so much for your request!
I'll preface this by confessing this turned out to be lengthier than originally planned! I mostly glossed over the idea of a phyisically assaulted character, theres a passage that is suggestive ("Your first master tried to do unspeakable things to you") as I want my work to be as accessible as possible, the written behavior is easily explained by being isolated and held to unachievable expectations!
Still, I sincerely hope you will enjoy my take on your request as I had an immensely good time getting lost in the story! ♡
Perhaps you could give a little feedback if the read was fun! ♡
(PS I'm also inclined to write a smutty follow-up if this is something anyone would enjoy.. ♡)
◍ synopsis: “You only ever see imperfections.” A breathy whisper placed on your lips. “I see all the pieces you think make you underserving of love and I promise to cherish each and every one of them.”
✎ word count: 2610
♡ characters: qifrey • reader
⟡ tags: hurt/comfort • romance • love confessions • touch-starved • reader insert
A year. Twelve months. Fifty-two weeks. Three hundred and sixty-five days. Eight thousand seven hundred and sixty hours. Five hundred twenty-five thousand and six hundred minutes. Numbers marking your new beginnings, a blank canvas, a fresh start you dreamt of in your darkest hours.
The daughter of the sage of teaching – a title that came and still comes with many expectations. u had been determined to study under anyone but your father. Looking back, though, you often found yourself wishing you had simply remained his little girl. That you had never grown up. Never experienced what followed.
Your first master tried to do unspeakable things to you which rewarded him with a fate far crueler than being stripped of memories and shipped off to a distant land. What he left behind was a girl who would spend years wondering whether she could ever truly trust again.
Your second master had the highest, almost unachievable expectations of upon hearing you were Beldaruits offspring, and yet you could never truly fulfill any of them. He demanded perfection and each failure resulted in failing to live up to your father’s name. Years that should’ve been spent gathering practical experience or traversing the outdoors in search of adventures were spent in the great hall. The library was your only approved destination.
On visits to your father, you simply lied. You spoke enthusiastically about your teacher and your progression as a witch. Anything to prevent being the root of the slightest hint of concern on your father’s mind, especially regarding your experience with your first apprenticeship.
Your current master was an exceptional witch, but his lessons rarely ventured beyond anything other than theory with practical classes being held in the great hall along with the same peers, each and every time. You didn’t spend time with any of them outside of your studies, you didn’t see the need or want of building lasting relationships. It was unfortunate but nothing could be done and your first experience shaped you into someone closed off, distrustful and distant.
Even after passing your second and third test, the wall around you remained the same – inside and outside. You were stuck looking at fish and handed another stack of books.
It’s taken a whole hour upon finally graduating from your teacher’s side for you to gather your belongings packed in advance and flee the great hall. Leaving behind everything you’ve ever known with your head in the clouds of becoming a teacher yourself, one your students would love studying under.
Your father was truly ecstatic when you confided in him. A broad smile lingering on his lips, a proud one. He suggested you stay with his former student who achieved the very goal you set for yourself. You were intrigued, his name – Qifrey – echoed through the entirety of the great hall laced with rumors and ill-will. With a combination of skepticism and the refreshing enthusiasm of new beginning you agreed.
And now it’s already been a full year of being with Qifrey. And what a year it has been.
He never cared about your familiar relations and status; he let you discover parts of yourself without any hint of prejudice.
As you lie beneath the stars you feel a lightness traveling throughout your body, dread mingling with fascination. A combination of realizing the vastness of our universe and the sheer limitless opportunities to discover; the universe, the earth, the seas, the mountains, the land, the dunes – discover yourself. Since the very second you arrived and set a step outside in the wide outdoors of what would be Qifreys atelier you felt entirely grounded, a contentless you hadn’t experienced ever before spread inside you.
Qifrey encouraged you finding a magic that is entirely you, a magic only you could create. He never pressured you, ever so patient. You passed the fourth test, prepared for the second, shared the same birth year; you weren’t his apprentice but at times you still felt like you learnt more in a year than in all the years studying under your master.
Knowing a vast number of spells is important, flexibility is given. So many hours spent studying all kinds of spells, history and controlling the elements, you knew quite a lot of everything but perfecting one branch wasn’t in your cards until then. You simply weren’t allowed to truly find yourself. A jack of trades, master of none – better than master of one; it never applied to you. You felt stuck in a magic being taught and not felt.
In retrospect you never truly felt yourself, never got to discover what makes you whole. You had a title to your name and traumatic past; your personality was assumed without an exchange of words. A child prodigy laced with unvoiced loathing. Yet, Qifrey let yourself be discovered by himself.
Relying on him was a difficult task, you lost your basic sense of trust decades ago. Through his continuous acts of kindness, reassurance and unconditional acceptance you found progressively more faith in him. Each word and every action led you right to this point.
You spent countless hours lying under the ancient canopies sprawling out above you but for the first time you shared this moment with Qifrey. The blanket you brought outside with you barely fits the two of you, yet you strangely don’t mind. You always kept your safe distance, until now. Perhaps it’s the way he asked you for permission to lie on his blanket, in his garden; to be close to you. Always asking, never questioning.
Your shoulders almost touch while you keep glancing over, your inner debate of whether you want this to happen or not is ever so present. Sorting your emotions is a difficult task and your uneasiness is clearly visible in your confession. Qfrey noticed, too. He sits up, body turned to you as he looks you straight in the eyes. He left his glasses inside, it’s the first thing you notice, the second being how mesmerizing he looks with the soft moonlight hitting his waxen skin. The latter is followed by an alarming realization spreading in your abdomen. You stare at him in disbelief, as you’ve only ever read about this sensation in books and you truly didn’t believe it to be true.
“Is everything alright?” Concern clear in his voice. You nod. “Was I too close? Did I accidentally touch you? I can lea-“ Qifreys ramblings were cut short with you shaking your head timidly.
A minute passed gazing into each other’s eyes, neither wanting to break the silence or finding the right words. You can’t bear the stillness; it creates a dreading and suspenseful feeling.
As you consider pushing yourself from the ground in a sitting position, desperately wanting to flee the situation creating progressively more emotions you have experienced in the past two decades, a timid whisper echoes through the night. “May I hold your hand?”
The world stops for a moment before spinning out of control, the lightheadedness inside you spreading. Not knowing how to react, you focus solely on him. Qifrey has averted his gaze, seemingly ashamed and nervous altogether while you keep watching him motionless in time.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t... I shouldn’t have asked. I should’ve known bett-“ You interrupt him for the second time tonight, with a hand placed on his. You press your eyes shut, it’s been years since deliberately touching someone else, as you avoided all kinds of physical touch even shaking hands.
A burning sensation lingers on the skin of your fingers, still he feels cold. You feel flushed and agitated, the hint of confidence from a moment ago gone. Still, you gather what little courage is left and open your eyes, just to peek. What awaits you is an equally nervous Qifrey, skin glowing in an equal blush of pink, the faintest smile on his lips.
“Tell me if you want me to stop and be honest, please.” The emphasized lying on the plea strengthens your trust in him as you let him take your hand in his. Albeit all the hard work around the atelier and garden on top of spellwork and assisting Olly, his fingers feel incredibly soft, tips forever tainted by light hues of ink. The hands creating magic you feel deeply connected to, the kind of spells leaving you in awe because of their sincerity. The hands of the one and only witch making you fall in love with spellcrafting in whole new ways.
You certainly don’t want him to stop holding your hand. The newfound closeness creating a strange feeling of comfort you haven’t felt until this very moment.
Growing a little bolder you move just a few inches closer resulting in your shoulders touching. Your blush creeping to frame your cheeks and ears in an entirely new shade of red.
“Thank you for trusting me.” A whisper told an inch too close to your ear. It sends shivers down your spine in all the right ways, the uneasy feeling in your stomach changing into a far more pleasant than you expected. It feels nice but you aren’t sure you even earned this feeling. Praise has always been something that came along with the addition of still needing to be better, faster, stronger – study harder. Nothing you ever did was ever quite enough but with Qifrey it was entirely different. He often showered you with praise and handled you with grace.
He never broke a single boundary. Always asking, never questioning.
Time taught you to trust him. Which is precisely why you dare to take another step. You roll on your side facing Qifrey. The night sky stretches far and wide while you lie beneath the stars in the cold late summer air. He mimics your movement, never letting go of your hand. He moves them to rest just below the height of your necks. When he intertwines his fingers with you a new wave of emotions hit you creating a nervous smile on your lips.
Qifrey frees your fingers from his own and a quiet sound of disappointment follows but is quickly met by consolation in form of his lips placed on the back of your hand. Until now you didn’t realize just how little space is left between your bodies. His lips touching the skin of your hand feel incredibly soft. Your vision is focused on his mouth while he never averts his focus from you, always searching for a single hint of discomfort.
A lingering smile as he takes a few moments for you to sort your thoughts. You don’t show any signs of panic or recoil because right now there is only space for pure, unfiltered joy – one you didn’t feel in forever. A realization hitting you – this is freedom.
Freedom is lying underneath the stars on a random Tuesday, holding hands with the witch you are unbelievably infatuated with.
A second realization hitting you. This is love. The one you read about in books you hid underneath your bed because fiction was deemed unworthy under your master. You used to daydream about a starring role in romance. You often thought about being capable of experiencing a positive emotion as heavy and yet, here you are.
You wonder if Qifrey feels the same, perhaps it’s entirely platonic. An answer followed promptly with kisses to each fingertip starting with the smallest. He takes his time, savoring every fleeting moment.
“These fingers are meant to create wonders, not doubt in yourself.” He presses a lingering kiss to the center of your palm. “These hands possess the power to change your fate.” His lips brush against the inside of your wrist, just moments long enough to feel the quickening of your pulse beneath his touch. A gentle smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Magic flows through these very veins.” The faintest whisper escaping him, his thumb tracing the delicate lines of your hand. “I long for the day you see yourself through my eyes.”
You stare in disbelief, processing the content of the spoken confessions until you feel an unfamiliar burning sensation in your eyes. Tears forming, tears you didn’t think you could emit. “May I?”
Always asking, never questioning.
Qifreys thumb glides across your cheeks to catch the ones escaping your eyes. He hushes you, whispers the softest words of encouragement, only intensifying the sensation. Decades of emotions stashed under a façade progressively crumbling and now they are bursting at the seams, each and every single suppressed feeling surfacing at once. It feels nothing short of overwhelming.
It’s a reflex, it has to be – another explanation isn’t realistic. You closed the distance between your bodies and buried your face in his chest. It feels neither right, nor wrong. Qifrey is certainly as surprised as you seem about your own actions, still his hands find their way on your back resting their motionless, contemplating permission.
You let yourself be held while your tears fell flawlessly wetting his shirt while apologizing profusely in between heart wrenching sobs. “Promise me you’ll stop apologizing for openly showing your feelings.” A stuttering exhale followed by seeking eye contact is what marks another new beginning. Qifreys words echo in your mind creating yet another glimmer of hope.
Being held is astonishing, a warm and comforting sensation creating a fuzzy feeling in your stomach. You don’t remember hugs feeling this safe and soothing. Qifreys arms around you are the calm after the tempest within yourself. He truly feels like the peace you always dreamt of. You never thought you’d find freedom in a person and still, he’s right here arms wrapped around you while silent tears keep falling.
For once in your life, you don’t feel like hiding yourself, you want to be seen by him. Stripped of each and every layer you built, peeled until there is only you left. Vulnerable. Your eyes never leave his while Qifrey face leaves a hint of hesitation in his expression which is only amplified by his sharp inhale.
Your lips meet for just a fleeting moment.
Qifrey looks seemingly distressed about his sudden action, clearly despising himself for acting impulsively. You can’t take the horrified expression on his face especially when his concerns are unfounded. After all, you both spent three hundred sixty-five days together, never missing a single one. You both learned about each other’s mannerisms, learned to interpret your body language and speech patterns. How you truly felt beneath simple words was obvious to you.
A scorching hot sensation tucked in your ribcage, expressing elation to the point of bursting.
Leaning back in to lock your lips with his. A lingering kiss fading the world around you. Jolts of lightning surging through your body, an enchanting feeling you’ve never felt as intensely as of right now.
Your key to freedom isn’t finding yourself, it’s losing yourself to him; rebuilding and reconstructing you in the process. Insecurity and paranoia will be a constant companion as you move forward. Until now every delight led to despair, every elation was met with humiliation.
Trying to avoid the feelings of negativity tainting your thoughts, the kiss turns more desperate only breaking apart to catch your breath. Qifreys lips feel contradicting, intoxicating and addicting but also comforting and hopeful. Vulnerable, a feeling you have explored countless times, yet you were only met with malice.
Your past experiences with human connections left you feeling inadequate, inferior and unworthy of even an ounce of affection. When you’ve only ever been shown shame and disgrace it slowly becomes your personality; and change is difficult. Still, you dare to hope.
“You only ever see imperfections.” A breathy whisper placed on your lips.
“I see all the pieces you think make you underserving of love and I promise to cherish each and every one of them.”
I adoreee your works and I git the courage to request!
Can I request some fluff Olly and Qifrey (separatedly) comforting their lover (fem if its alright) after they got a scar on their face after a mission?
I truly do love your works! Keep it up hehe!!
〈 𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎; 𝚊 𝚐𝚞𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛 〉
╰┈➤ I'm so proud of you for gathering your courage! I truly adored this request! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it! I'd be ecstatic about receiving your feedback! ♡
★ First part is Olly tending to your fresh wounds.
✴︎ Second part is Qifrey helping you deal with the aftermath.
Your latest request in the village far north came with terrible repercussions. Miscalculations and a lack of knowledge regarding the harsh conditions nature rewards the land with in winter, made for a devastating combination. Relief washed over you after realizing not a soul got hurt. Only you.
Finally, you found your way back into the atelier, tossing your outdoor clothing and equipment next to the door. The wound on your face is still fresh, and you want to avoid any social contact asking for explanations. All you want is your bed and zero questions.
You sneak into your room, taking off your dirty clothes ever so slowly. Different sized cuts scattered across your body cling to your clothing making it painful taking them off. You bite your lip trying to muffle grunts of pain echoing in your room. Every movement hurts as you finally climb into bed and pull the blanket over you. It feels chilly against your inflamed skin. You are far too fatigued to tend to your wounds, and you are most definitely too worn out to ask for help. In a matter of seconds you drift into a deep sleep, energy clearly depleted.
You wake up with Olly sitting on your bed. Your eyes adjusting to the darkness of your room. He is painted in soft moonlight, and your heart skips a beat at the sight of him. A concerned expression clearly visible and the bags under his eyes reveal an equally tired condition. He opens his mouth to say something, but you quickly press a finger on his lips as you shake your head. You are far too exhausted. Olly knows better than to pry but he is dead set on tending to your wounds, especially the scar gaping across your face.
He already brought the supplies and gestures to their position. You let out a weak sigh followed by a shaky nod, it’s unavoidable, yet you are glad it’s Olly who found you in that particular state first.
Olly stretches his body above you to turn on the oil lamp on your nightstand needing to assess your wounds. It creates a dim light, being gentle to your eyes adjusting from the darkness. Olly is particularly proud of the design, being able to adjust the lighting as needed. His magic has always been so kind.
His face revealing far more concern than before. You smile trying to ease his expression, though it might create the opposite effect. After all, Qifrey behavior doesn’t differ the slightest from yours right now, deflection being ever so evident.
He helps you with sitting up, even if it’s the last thing you want right now it has do be done and you are entirely grateful for Ollys persistence and assistance. A washcloth embroidered with a spell to wet it is brought to your aching, exhausting body. He gently glides it along your body, wringing it in a bucket he brought every so often. The cloth feels warm on your bruised skin, a burning sensation from the cuts unavoidable. Whenever you wince, Olly presses a kiss to your head muttering words of encouragement.
“It’s going to sting.” The quietest of whispers, not wanting to disturb the stillness of the moment. It’s incredibly intimate.
He soaks a fresh wool cloth with an anti-septic liquid and tends to each single cut until only the scar on your face is left. It spans from just under year eye, creeping over your cheek to just below your ear. It still hasn’t fully closed in the short amount of time passed. It’s going to be an incredibly prominent scar, but that’s for future you to worry about.
His words bear truth. It stings, not comparable to the different sized cuts on the rest of your body. The entire side of your face is burning, a scorching hot sensation that has you biting your lip until you draw blood. Olly stops halfway, placing a kiss on your lips, placing your hands on his free one, feeling his calloused skin beneath your touch.
“It must hurt terribly but this needs to be done.” He says quietly another kiss placed. “Squeeze my hand, hit me, dig your nails into it, …” He means do anything to him to relief your own pain, selfless as he is.
You nod, signaling you are ready to finish this. He continues gently but thoroughly. The pain progresses the further he comes to reaching the other side of the wound. You press your fingers into his skin, gritting your teeth.
And once Olly is finished, he showers you with praises, not letting go but rather pulling you closer in an embrace while being ever so careful not to hurt you. You put your arms loosely around his much bigger body. The exhaustion lingering but slowly turning into a comfortable state of sleepiness. “Stay the night?” A question made to sound like a plea. One that wouldn’t have been needed to be uttered, he wouldn’t have left your side either way. A soft smile erasing the slightest hint of worry on his delicate face as he tucks you both under the soft blanket. He pulls you against his chest arm around you, hand resting on your back, as if shielding you from any further harm.
The atelier is your home, but you truly only belong in his arms.
After all, Olly is your guiding star.
〈 𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 〉Qifrey.
You sit in front of the floor-length mirror in the corner of your room while your gaze is solely fixated on the pale remains of the scar adorning your face. It’s a fairly new addition to your chambers; the two masters of the atelier worked relentlessly to perfect it. It’s a true masterpiece, the delicate wood framing the glass was painted with celestial ornaments by the girls. Its creation had been a collaborative act of adoration and encouragement, born from the unspoken truth that you had despised your own reflection.
The scar, a lasting mark of your own shortcomings, a lingering memory of your weakness, a haunting reminder of your failure; of a mission gone terrible wrong.
Sunken in your innermost turmoil, in an almost dissociate state, gentle hands guide you back to reality. Qifrey positioned himself behind your back sitting down in a way that has his legs spread around you, pulling you in a tender embrace. A kiss placed on your shoulder. Eyes shut tightly as you lean back wanting, needing his touch to find relief. His hand is gliding upwards to your face, lingering for a few moments as if to ask for permission and you grant it without hesitation. You can be entirely vulnerable in his vicinity.
Fingers start gently tracing the entirety stretching from just beneath the inner corner of your eye, sweeping across your cheek before disappearing just below your ear.
“You look utterly enchanting.” A breath against your shoulder as another kiss is placed.
“Open your eyes and see for yourself.” A quiet plea following. “For me, please.” There has never been a wish you could not fulfil for him.
Eyes flutter open focusing on anything but your face. You grip the hem of your shirt tightly. You don’t dare to look; it stings perhaps more than at the time of its creation. You despise your reflection and yet, you feel guilt of loathing the very thing Qifrey is absolutely infatuated with.
“It’s okay. I’m here if you need me. Take your time.” It’s the sincerity paired with nurturing compassion encouraging you to face your demon personified. You stare at yourself, to put it simply.
“Your look mesmerizing especially in the delicate late of sunrise.” He takes your hands in his own and holds them, tightening the embrace while resting his head on your shoulder, peaking in the mirror as he does so.
You sit still, gaze fixed on yourself and not a single syllable leaves your vocal cords.
“Perhaps, I have more insight than you might think regarding the way you see for yourself.” And he’s right. You feel ashamed because Qifrey knows exactly what it means to be different, more so than you ever could. It adds just another layer of resentment towards yourself. You are unworthy of -
“You seem to have misunderstood my sentiment.” As if he read your mind. “Allow me to theorize about your scar not being the root of your disdain, it’s the circumstances of its creation.”
Deep down you know he’s uncovered the truth but it’s far easier to detest your looks than to fix yourself from the inside out. A shaky nod, a confession made. The tiniest laugh of relief escapes Qifrey. “I suppose we can work on that.”
You turn around, the mirror to your back as your legs are now on top of Qifreys facing him. Offering you certainty and reassurance like the north star paving your way home.
A surprised expression adorning his face as you cup his face and place a kiss full of quiet affection on his lips. “What was that for?” The grin on his face only spreading.
“Everything.” A single word, a simple answer, yet it holds tremendous amounts of devotion. Qifrey is your solace, your refuge, your sanctuary; a place where your soul comes to rest.
Can i request aftercare with Olruggio (f!reader) ^-^
╰┈➤ thanks for your request! I'm sorry it ended up being shorter than expected and kind of evolved into heartfelt confessions, I'm such a sucker for romance atm aah ♡
I still hope you enjoy it and perhaps you could give a little feedback! ♡
〈 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 〉
◍ synopsis: "It’s a promise. I’m entirely yours to keep.”
✎ word count: 784
♡ characters: olruggio • reader
⟡ tags: suggestive themes • romance • love confessions • reader insert
You hit the bed, lying flat on your stomach and face turned to the wall right next to you. Hot breath hits your back in an uneven rhythm. Soft kisses placed after every unsteady exhale. As the air returns to his lungs, a tired laugh escapes him, breathless and utterly content. "I love you." Three simple words, yet they send a thousand emotions crashing through you. And when he strokes a few lose strands behind your ear to get access to your face, you instinctively close your eyes. “..and I loved every second of this.” The quietest whisper followed by a kiss placed on your temple.
You carefully nudge your head against the stubbles framing his still slightly sweaty face. You open your mouth wanting to reciprocate the sentiment, but you aren’t able to form a coherent sentence. Olly gently hushes you. “I know. I know.” He breathes against your cheek after a featherlight kiss, smile growing only wider.
With a swift spell he dampens a washcloth resting on his nightstand and starts tending to you, ever so carefully. You wince slightly as he brushes past a particularly sensitive area. Concern clearly visible. You sit up, intending to return the gesture, but he gently stops you with a kiss to your forehead. You know better than to protest.
After insisting you drink a glass of juice to spike your blood sugar, he helps you into one of his shirts. They're far too large, swallowing your body whole. Carrying the unmistakable scent that is uniquely his, a comforting blend of warm embers and a sensational sweetness you have never been able to put into words.
Once you're both beneath the covers, he pulls you close without hesitation. The blanket feels cold on your delicate, sensitive skin. It’s a stark contrast to Ollys warmth pressed against all the right spots.
Foreheads resting against each other as he begins to draw circles on your lower back. It feels like the flow of time has come to a halt. Neither of you dare to disturb the state of serenity. A tender meeting of dry and bruised lips, a kiss full of quiet adoration. Kissing Olly feels like bathing in the first warm sunrays after a long winter, feels like dancing in the summer rain, feels like coming home and a promise of a lifetime. He is a safe haven in the storm that’s life. He is the most gentle and warm soul to exist. No one in the vastness of the galaxy could still your innermost chaos in a way he does.
Despite the smile plastered across your face tears begin to rise and impend streaming down your face. Olly is quick to cup your face, wearing a concerned expression. “What’s wrong?” Gently, he wipes away your tears as you shake your head. You struggle to find the right words, nothing is wrong – everything is all so right. It’s the coming down of hormones. The rise of oxytocin, that leaves you vulnerable, leaves you grateful and so full of love. The kind of adoration one can’t explain in mere language. It’s a feeling reaching far beyond a physical level. One that is met with tears and a hollow, fluttering feeling in your abdomen, tightening your chest and drives you utterly mad. It’s a captivating sentiment. Despite the vulnerability it evokes you would not trade it for the world.
Olly kisses along the faint lines created by your tears. “I think I might know what you mean.” Noses brush against each other softly. "But you have not the slightest idea what you do to me." A whisper against your lips, a tender kiss.
You ask him to elaborate if he wishes to, curious to uncover shared or vastly different felt experiences.
He takes a deep breath, face flushed. He tries desperately to keep eye contact. Olly is clearly flustered. The tremor in his voice betrays him.
“You make life seem so stupidly simple.” Olly stutters. “In an entirely positive way.” He recovers himself. “I used to suffocate under all the weight, the pressure - a prodigy, a genius, a watchful-eye.” He caresses your hair between heartfelt confessions. “You ground me and helped me realize I don’t solely exist to fulfill everyone’s expectation of me.” Nothing could erase the grin on your face or the butterflies lining your intestines. “I need you. Like, I really do. The thought of you not reciprocating my feelings make me sick.” You place a kiss on his lips to reassure him. “I want to give you all that I am, all that I way, all that I can be.” He pulls you in a tight embrace.
✎ this blog is exclusively witch hat atelier centric
× nsfw works will mostly be posted on ao3
× include as much or as little information as you'd like in your request!
× when requesting nsfw please refrain from doing so as anon & have your age displayed on your blog
× if you wish I will post your request anonymously, otherwise I will post it as a response to your ask
× I conveniently gloss of over certain spoilers for anime-only readers -if the request is about said spoilers, I'll still gladly write them and mark them as such!
DONT's
⟡ warnings: noncon ⋮ underage/ big agegap
⟡ tags: furry ⋮ incest
× I don't write trans!characters since I firmly believe there are many authors that have far more experience to depict them in a way they deserve to be written.
Hello!! I would like to request but I dont see any rules pinned 🥲
So.if you can elaborate what you take and dont take! So I dont make you uncomfortable 💕
Oh, you are so right! I'm def gonna add it thanks for pointing it out!
don'ts: noncon or underage/ big agegap!
also trans!characters because there are so many great authors that are trans themselves and can depict that a thousand times better than I ever could
do's: sfw, nsfw, f/m, m/m, reader-inserts
I am very open to writing any ships that fit this description
& I enjoy writing angst and hurt/comfort the most :)
Hello! Can I request Olly x reader who is chronically ill; where reader most days cant move from bed due to muscle pain. And some days cant even draw spells and help girls etc!
Take your time : > !! Mwah!
〈 𝚙𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚗〉
╰┈➤ Thank you so much for this wonderful ask! I adored this so, so much! It's also very fitting because I coudln't type a lot because of my own pain, oops. I have so many more ideas for this, I will probably write a bit more!♡
There is a vast diversity regarding the types of pain which accompany your ailment. At times you can feel a sharp sensation with every ever so slight movement, like the tiniest needles puncturing your nerves. Luckily, the occurrence rate for this is comparable to witnessing a blue moon twice in your lifetime. What lingers and stays consistent is a dull pain that feels like never ending pressure on your muscles. Especially your joints are affected, which drastically restricts your day-to-day life. The intensity of said pain is the most significant marker for you to decide when to put a pause on your busy schedule. It took years to learn to listen to your body, to give it the rest it deserves. You used to keep pushing the boundaries, to borderline on fatigue and agony with every motion. You hadn’t learned to be gentle with yourself.
Not until Olly stepped into your life.
He makes sure you take an appropriate amount of rest. You often remind him how ironic his concerns are considering the lack of breaks in his own schedule. You often make him take a little quiet time together, which is usually spent in the garden with a cup of tea while talking about his newest concepts and your project-planning for the girls.
It’s been a few month – three months and fifteen days to be exact – since you moved into the atelier to teach Qifreys apprentices alongside him. Teaching is your profession, your meaning in life and when your illness progressed further you knew you could never take on students on your own and it broke your heart. You still did the test, just in case and perhaps this only dragged you further into darkness. It’s all you had imagined for your future and having your life plan shredded to the tiniest pieces, it dims your light.
You had been introduced to Qifrey while still preparing for the final trial. You began to study together, searched for adequate literature, exchanged project ideas and shared plans for when you both successfully pass. The future looked so bright for both of you but only on the surface.
On the night before the trial, you confided in him – about your ailment and the harsh boundaries resulting from your illness progressing. Qifrey suggested being his co-teacher after you took some time for yourself to recover after a particular awful flare up. You gladly accepted this glimmer of hope.
And a year and a half after your promise you officially moved in – much to Ollys delight.
You both had been dancing around each other, exchanging stolen glances and finally secret kisses for a little while then. Six months and twelve days to be exact.
Your relationship is no mystery anymore and considering Olly acting like a devoted husband from day one this would be especially hard to hide. Especially in times like these when your illness prevents you from being physically active for more than a few minutes.
The life of the atelier shifted from being scattered around the house, garden and surrounding nature between the kitchen and living area. Suddenly everyone moved their studies and work to be closer to you as you lie on the couch, preparing the next studies for the girls. They enjoy sitting next to you while listening to the stories you read them. Qifrey is responsible for all outside and practical activities and you teach the girls about history, literature, physics, chemistry, botany, astronomy and anything else a witch might need to construct spells that work like intended. Drawing said spells is particularly difficult on some days. You often apologize to the girls for not being able to assist them like you would want to but since you have an extensive library and a binder consisting of all kinds of spells organized by elements and descriptions, you are still perfectly prepared for questions. The girls are never disappointed in your limits.
At times, you still must send the kids off to study independently, much to their dismay. On days like yesterday and even today. You need to stay in bed. Your limbs feel heavy with a dull and pressing ache scattered across your body. Anguished by the pain you press your lids shut. Tears of frustration falling flawlessly while you swallow the sounds, not a single soul must hear. You didn’t hear Olly entering your room.
Ever so carefully he wipes away your tears, his calloused fingers pressing lightly along your cheeks down to your chin. He traces the trail of tears with the lightest kisses, lips barely touching your skin. Words are utterly unnecessary.
The darkness you felt is immediately replaced by a warm sensation that only the brightest, most radiant star could create. Olly looks exhausted, the skin under his eyes is swollen and colored in a mix of blue and grey. “You didn’t come to bed last night.” You whisper, it’s a fact, not an accusation - no anger or disappointment.
He scratches the back of his neck nervously. “You were in so much pain yesterday. I wanted to help.” His gaze is fixed on the bed as he presents what looks like a pillow.
“I – we made this for you.” Olly places his newest creation on your legs after lifting your blanket carefully. “The girls picked cherries and pitted them. A lot. Whole kitchen looked like a murder scene with droplets of the cherries scattered across. I think Qifrey almost had a heart attack but now the girls know cleaning spells and how to pit cherries.” Almost immediately you feel a pleasant warmth on your aching limbs. "It's a pillow filled with cherry pits. I showed the girls how to quickly dry them with a spell. The spell for keeping them warm and not too hot was a process of trials and errors and a few blisters." He admits with a nervous laugh.
Suddenly the tears reappear, no hint of frustration but oh so much love. Olly looks around frantically thinking he made a terrible mistake and hurt you, but you reassure him about your happy tears. You gesture for him to lie down next to you. After taking off his sweaty, wrinkled clothes, he cuddles up to you. Foreheads resting against each other as you mutter what feels like a thousand quiet words of appreciation for him. The pillow helps immsensely with your aching legs but nothing elevates your pain more than your love for him.
╰┈➤ dms are open for requests - sfw& nsfw (｡•̀ᴗ-)♡
◍ synopsis: You accidently stay the night much to Qifreys amusement.
✎ word count: 1378
♡ characters: qifrey • reader
⟡ tags: sfw • suggestive themes • reader insert • spoilerish without going into details!
He is standing in the doorway while you sit on the windowsill, leaning against the frame of his private chambers. An area strictly forbidden to apprentices. Even the ever-watchful members of his atelier know better than to approach without invitation. It is an unspoken rule: Qifrey's personal space is not to be disturbed. And yet, somehow, you are the exception. A rather ironic one, considering your very existence would be deemed illicit in the eyes of the pointed hats. Yet here you are. Welcomed. Allowed. Perhaps even wanted. Qifrey would never admit that last part aloud.
But he loves the thrill of it. And so do you. The forbidden is enticing, after all.
"You're awfully early today."
You merely shrug before making yourself comfortable on his bed. Reaching over, you pluck a book from his nightstand and promptly remove the bookmark nestled between its pages. Offense is creeping up on his face. You grin.
"Oh, don't worry about me, dear Qifrey. I'm perfectly capable of entertaining myself."
"I have a few more tasks to tend to." He says without acknowledging any ounce of what you just said, adjusting his glasses in a nonchalant way.
“I could help you?” It comes out more uncertain than you intended to.
“You know I want to keep you separated from my students.” For obvious reasons.
"After all, I take great responsibility in teaching within a certain moral margin."
It wouldn't be the first time you'd speak to his apprentices. Not that Qifrey knows about those encounters. Some secrets are harmless. Really.
"I will get going then. Keep quiet, please." By the time he returns to his work, you are already absorbed in his book again. Qifrey watches in horror as you turn yet another page with the bookmark tossed across the nightstand. He could make you make use of it, but he is a patient man and some battles simply are not worth fighting.
You glance at the clock on the wall. It’s been two hours already. Something between a sigh and a yawn escapes you. You could have completed half the tasks Iguin assigned you for tomorrow while you are wasting your time lying in his bed. In fact, you probably should have but you really didn’t want to waste your precious lifetime on anything else than Qifrey today. In your head the idea of arriving early so it would add to your shared time sounded entirely plausible.
You forgot about his responsibilities, though. Your master was far more relaxed. Once he left you alone for a week and you needed to await their return so he could undo the spell – to his surprise he was greeted by a frog residing in their brimmed cap. It was surprisingly comfortable, though. You are sure the discrepance in tending to responsibilities between pointed hat and brimmed caps teachers stems from teaching vastly different branches of magic.
Still, no sign of Qifrey. Your eyelids begin to feel heavy. There are certainly spells that would come in handy, but you really don’t want to turn his mood sour if he notices. Maybe some fresh air could be the solution. You get up, stretch your tired body and reach for the handle on the frame. The fresh air feels cold, yet soft on your skin and sends a shiver down your spine. You take off every unnecessary piece of clothing and crawl into bed, tucking yourself in. His book finds its way back into your hands. After a few more pages the words lose their sense to you, sentences begin to melt into each other and before you know it, sleep has its tight grip on you.
You don’t wake up when a certain someone enters his room unannounced, followed by a surprised look on his face. It certainly catches him off guard to see you sleeping so soundly. The faintest of smiles dancing on his lips as he removes the book lying on top of you, sliding the bookmark in between the pages where it belongs.
He takes off his glasses and ever so carefully lays down beside your resting body. Holding in his breath as to not disturb your slumber while he nestles himself under the thin blanket. The fear of the possibility of you leaving once you are awake is clear in his actions.
You wake up to birds chirping outside, the faintest of sun dancing on your skin and the gentle rays tickle your face. You open your eyes, but your brain doesn’t register the world just yet. You roll over to the other side trying to achieve a comfortable enough position to drift back into dreamscapes for just a little while longer. The realization comes suddenly like a jolt of lighting dancing around the deepest parts of your body. Cheeks burning and flutters in your midsection.
His face. Qifreys face. Barely inches away from yours.
You can’t move. You are stuck in a limbo of feeling utterly enchanted by his mere existence residing close enough to you that you can feel the calmness of his breath on your skin. He is truly mesmerizing. You can’t avert your gaze. His skin is like porcelain with the faintest glistening of sweat on his forehead, barely visible behind his silver hair.
To put into simpler yet deserving of him – he looks like an angel.
An ethereal being you are to share vicinity with. It’s almost comical. Someone as unholy with a past, present and future as sinful as one could live through is blessed to exist in the very timeline as him. Your fates intertwined with. Perhaps he was sent to put you on a righteous path, to cleanse you from the transgressions committed in your darkest hours. And when his eyelids flutter open with his sight now set on you, you remember exactly why you are connected by invisible strings. He too had submerged himself into the forbidden. There is a thin line separating desperation from violence. A fact Qifrey is well aware of and precisely why he imposed himself with certain boundaries to uphold a moral code that may differ vastly from his very own teachings but is entirely reasonable considering the circumstances. Committing taboo always comes with a prize to pay, after all everything in life is an equivalent exchange. It’s the duality of Qifrey you find utterly intriguing.
Qifrey says nothing. Not a single syllable leaves him and you are no better, even if you tried. You can’t shape the storm in your brain into anything resembling a coherent sentence.
You look at each other for a few more moments before he breaks the silence between you. “You are still here.” Four words that shake your world with the sudden realization that, for the very first time, you stayed until morning. You sit up, eyes darting around the room scanning the floor for your clothes to make a haste exit. A shaky apology escaping your lips.
Qifrey sits up, too. “Perhaps you misunderstood the intentions behind my words.” You turn your head to look at him. “This.” He gestures to you and him in bed creating a circle in the air, like a spell cast between you. “This is nice.”
A single “Oh” escapes you.
It has been an unspoken agreement between the two of you. You come at night, you leave at night. It’s enticing – chaotic, messy, sinful and an entirely forbidden experience for Qifrey. It’s thrilling. The fear of being discovered, his dirty little secret being exposed. It’s giving him an edge and you spending the night changes the rules to something far more alluring. The possibility of being found out rises exponentially and paired with the fact that he gets to have you for an extended period just seals the deal for him.
“From now on you will stay the night.”
You blink at him. Dumbfounded. It wasn’t a question or a plea. It felt like an order. A new venture on his behalf. A moral hazard. An uninsured risk. Qifrey is utterly insane to expose himself exceedingly to the vastness of the forbidden. Its grasp reaches further and far swifter than one could anticipate but perhaps it’s the thrill of the possibility of being entirely engulfed in a limbo of sin. A vicious cycle of vices and virtues, two hearts beating in a sole chest. After all, it’s his duality you desire.
⟡ tags: sfw • reader insert • hurt no comfort • angst
! spoilerish without going into details!
Due to his past, he had always been someone who searched for the ending before allowing himself to believe in a beginning. He wore a façade, walls of steel encased in concrete, built so carefully that few ever questioned their strength. Yet they were cracking. Slowly. Imperceptibly. Again, and again. Qifrey had always mended those fractures alone. No one looked past the deflections, the practiced smiles, the aloof indifference Qifrey wielded as easily as his pen. Because the scaffolding beneath was far more fragile than anyone around him realized.
Beneath it all was Qifrey.
The Qifrey, who desperately wanted to be comforted, yet could never embrace warmth and harmony. It would only drag him deeper into the abyss. The one who carried wounds so deep they had become part of him, scars etched into the very foundation of who he was. And what was he supposed to do with that?
Once, he had turned to prayer. Once, he had sought forgiveness in quiet devotion and desperate hope. Somewhere along the way he wandered too far into the vast darkness of his own innermost turmoil. He had stared into its depths too many times, lingered there too long. Redemption became something distant and unreachable.
At least, that was what he told himself. He was a sinner. That much seemed as clear as day. And that is precisely why he prefers the quiet night. The ancient canopy above him is as soothing as terrifying. He needs to feel the storm underneath his skin. He thrives off anxiety; it is the constant in his life. Chaos is his only solace, his lifeline. So why does it feel so suffocating? Surely, he should be used to it by now.
Beneath the vastness of space, he feels the anxiety creeping in once more. Slow. Relentless. Inevitable.
It settles over him like a crushing weight. Unable to produce a sound other than erratic breathing. Qifrey feels as though he is rooted in the very spot. Every breath becomes a conscious effort. Every movement feels impossible.
And despite how familiar it is, the fear never grows dull. It never lost its edge.
Qifrey draws in a sharp breath. He knows who it is before he dares to look.
In the moonlit reflection of the lake, he catches the outline of her figure sitting behind his back. He recognized the markings around her arms. The ink etched into skin. His gaze lingers for only a moment before he forces it away. He knows better than to wonder about their true nature, better than to ask about them.
He remains perfectly still. Then she leans against him. The air in his lungs betrays him. Qifrey desire it so badly it makes him feel physically ill. She has always been his greatest strength and his toughest weakness. An ethereal thing, carved from starlight and moonlight alike, sent down from the ancient canopy above for the sole purpose of unraveling him, wrecking divine havoc in its wake.
Why must she make this so difficult?
It has been a year since he last found himself to be this close to her. A year since he felt her warmth. A year since he remembered what it was like to breathe without fighting for every breath. She had always been the only thing capable of quieting the chaos in his mind. And that was precisely why he could not allow himself to seek refuge in her. He had confided in her once. Explained the reasons. Explained the dangers. Ultimately, she left but not because she was incapable of withstanding the eye of the storm but because she refused to let it wreck more havoc. When every other path had failed, she had been willing to bend the rules themselves and step into the forbidden, to stare directly into the vastness of taboo. Only for him and he hates himself for it.
Then he feels it on his skin, the silent plea. “Join me. Please,” It breaks him in ways he did not know were possible.
So desperately, he wants to turn around and pull her close while assuring her that they will encounter the ever-after. A future where their lives remained intertwined, bound together until the end of eternity.
He would be lying to her and to himself. Some people were destined for happy endings. Yet he had long since accepted that he was not one of them and that realization hurt far more than any punishment ever could.
His inner turmoil suddenly quietens as she says his name.
Qifrey.
It rolls off her tongue with effortless grace, sweet as honey and yet laced with bitterness. Full of yearning and grief, a bittersweet mixture.
Qifrey takes her hand and squeezes it tightly. Thinking through about a thousand things he could answer her plea with, but they are all deduced to the same answer. He can’t go with her. He can’t be with her, at least not yet, not like this.
Admitting it in his mind hurts but speaking out the truth: “I can’t.” It is agonizing.
He feels her hot breath on him. His nape feels wet. He hates it, not because of the tears, but because he is the sole reason. She is so desperately trying to hide them, but he knows her all too well.
He gathers his breath and the little courage, the glimmer of hope that is left inside of him.
“You should know, your absence has been weighing on me."
Far too late. She vanished just like a year ago and now the crushing realization hits him. It's the second time in his life that he had let her walk away.
! you can find Qifreys POV here -> 〈 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚑𝚒𝚖 〉
By the lake, beneath the vast expanse of the stars, you encounter him in solitary. It's a rare occurrence these days considering he is perpetually surrounded by his apprentices. Much to your dismay.
You settle behind him barely leaving an inch between you. He remains inert. He neither turns nor makes a sound. You can't decide weather his absence of a response is a dismissal or a quiet acknowledgement. It doesn't concern you either way since he doesn't act on either. So, to speak, fate is in your hands.
"Missed me?" You didn't mean for it to come out so mischievous. You rehearsed this moment repeatedly in your mind and now your vocabulary is reduced to what could easily perceived as mocking. You want to vanish. Right here, right in this moment but this opportunity could undoubtedly be the last of its kind. Inhale. Exhale.
"I've been yearning to see you again." You lean on his back, head resting on his right shoulder. And right then and there, you find yourself lost in reveries of a time when you once shared silence in the same space and yet, there was no distance between you. Only trust, loyalty, and perhaps the faintest trace of love. It feels as though it belongs to a distant past.
You can’t count how many times you wished upon a falling star for things to be different, for your fates to remain intertwined. Yet your future is reduced to watching him from afar. An illicit love story, ending far too soon. Sparks everywhere, but the flame never ignites. All because of rigid rules. You wish you were more important to him, that must be it - you are not worth the taboo. Or perhaps your absence is weighing on him, too?
The softest of whispers against his ear. "Set your fears aside." Followed by a breath on his nape, almost inaudible. "Join me." He remains motionless without uttering a single syllable. "Please." Though the quiver that follows and is wandering through his body reveals his presence in the moment.
"Qifrey." His name rolls from your tongue, dripping with decadence. Uttering it felt forbidden - a taboo just like the kind of magic you practice. Still, it did nothing to diminish your desire to speak his name.
Qifrey. Qifrey. Qifrey.
He remains still, but the breath he must have been holding finally escapes in a stutter. You are both suspended in the moment, as though time itself has stopped moving forward. What follows quietly is his first movement, aside from the trembling that betrays him.
His unsteady hand reaches behind him in search of yours and when he finds it, he holds it tight, like his life depends on it and as though he needs grounding to gather his words before daring to break the silence. "I.." His voice is merely louder than a whisper but as unsteady as his hand. The quivering of his body found its way into his vocal cords. "I can't."
Right then and there, it feels like the rapture has taken hold of you. Like you are being set alight from the inside out, and it stings—leaving you light-headed, trapped in a vertigo of agony.
You press your eyelids shut in an attempt to hold back the tears waiting to break free.
And just like that, you vanish in an instant. You will not share your vulnerability with him. After all, you are an afterthought to him, never worthy of even a glimpse into the forbidden. A shaken breath escapes you.
“And yet, I stepped into the darkness and abandoned myself in the process. Only for you, Qifrey.”
jacobvanloon
snowghoul
dailybridgerton
ellievsbear
theartofmadeline
discoholicmusic
vaporwave
