"your magic is so kind. it says more than words ever could."
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hellooo I'm Kat! welcome :)
જ⁀➴ 23, she/they, bisexual, college senior, chronic pain haver, lover of all things whimsical, multi fandom writer
{ my side blog is @katthebrimcap }
On the Horizon {works in progress}
~All The Stars in The Sky {Orufrey slowburn} Ch 1 & 2 are POSTED!!
~Beautiful Boy {Euini & teacher!reader}
~Orbiter {Ryland Grace x fem!reader}
The Sky's Most Radiant Stars
~ The Cure {Qifrey x BrimCap!reader angst}
~Flame Dancer {Fire Lord Zuko}
~Tea Leaves & Lost Loves {Fire Lord Zuko}
please be kind when interacting on my blog/requesting, i will not tolerate bigoted behavior. any form of racism, xenophobia, homophobia, transphobia, Islamophobia, or hate speech will result in you being blocked immediately.
Ⓒ 2026 all right reserved starkkat do not repost, translate, or modify my work. DO NOT input my work into AI, or take ideas from my work without crediting me. thanks!
Hello loves I’m here to provide some proof of life! and also update you guys on what I’ll be posting (hopefully) soon :)
I started training for a new job at work and have been split between a handful of fics that I want to write so I’ve been super inactive lol butttt here’s what’s in the works!
• Beautiful Boy {Euini & teacher!reader ficlet}
• Composure {Easthies x reader oneshot}
• We Had Potential {Ryland Grace x art teacher!reader long fic}
• Orbiter {touch starved Ryland Grace x reader}
^^This one might become a longfic?? Can you guys tell I have the phm brainrot rn I’ve been so insufferable ab it to my irl friends
with a lot of fandoms kinda up in flames over ai use (specifically on ao3) this seems like a great time to say i fuckin despise genAI and will NEVER use it to come up with, plot, write, or edit any of my work.
fan works are labors of love. I don't think AI writers are real writers. and i dont care that some people think AI is the only way theyll be good writers.
write bad fic, write cringe fic, write grammatically incorrect fic. be bad at things. its how you get better.
witch hat atelier; qifrey x gender neutral reader who is finding it hard to take care of themself and get out of their head; pure fluff with some dark thoughts mentioned; this was so fun to write; thank you @edethereal for the request; hope you enjoy!
The coffee was too bitter.
You lowered the cup from your lips as you stared down at the brown liquid. You’d just managed to make it. Why did it have to taste so wrong?
The door to the dining room sprang open as the four young witch apprentices rushed in, their hands covered in ink and their faces beaming from what seemed to be an eventful afternoon of honing the art of magic.
The familiar smile made it’s way to your face. “Hungry?”
Coco’s stomach grumbled in response as Tetia laughed. Clutching her stomach in embarrassment, Coco nodded, her cheeks red. So did the others. Chuckling softly to yourself, you stood up and headed to the kitchen counter to cook for them. The scraping of chairs were heard as the girls hopped up, looking at you expectantly.
It wasn’t hard to cook for them. You weren’t a bad cook. But why did everything feel so heavy?
Forcing yourself to move, you found yourself grabbing things mechanically while trying to convince yourself this was easy. Normal. Not something you should find hard.
Dammit. Why was it so hard?
“Allow me, my dear.”
You were pulled out of your thoughts as a gentle voice whispered from behind you. You turned around to see him standing there. Light hair with eyes that reminded you of the vast blue sky and a gentle smile tugging at his lips.
“Qifrey…”, you managed to breathe out. His eyes softened even more, if that were possible, before kissing your head. “Sit down. I’ll feed the girls.”
You wanted to protest. But it was feeling heavy again. What exactly… you still didn’t know.
And so you were sitting nearby on a chair as he bustled about the kitchen, amusing the girls with his antics as he served them lunch. Their laughter echoed through the walls of the atelier, light and airy. It was such a contrast to what you felt that you couldn’t help but think…
Was there something wrong with you?
You had a loving partner. You had four delightful, intelligent and kind girls who lived with you, brightening up the place. You had friends. You had a good life.
Why weren’t you happy?
Why was it so difficult to get up in the morning even with him beside you?
Why was it so hard to make them a simple lunch?
Why was the coffee so damn bitter!?
“Darling?”
A soft gasp escaped your lips as your eyes focused onto the man in front of you. His brow was knit in worry and he was leaning towards you. “Are you alright?”
You gulped and opened your mouth just as you saw the girls staring from behind him, their spoons half-way to their mouths. Just as they realised you’d caught them looking, their heads whipped back to their plates but it was too late. You schooled your expression back just as quickly.
“I’m fine, love”, you murmured, standing up from the chair. “I’m going to take a nap. Wake me if you need me…”
Qifrey didn’t say anything as you got up, leaving behind your unfinished coffee as you trudged up to the bedroom. His eyes followed your figure until you closed the door, then set his eyes on the coffee mug. The once warm drink was now a cold undrinkable pool of caffeine. He glanced at the girls and back at the coffee, before taking off his hat and placing it on the table.
“I’m going to the bedroom, girls. Do knock if you need either of us.”
Hearing the chorus of ‘Yes, Master Qifrey’, he walked to the room. He listened outside the door for a minute before stepping in. He saw you lying on the bed with your shoes on and staring at the ceiling.
“You aren’t napping”, he said, softly.
“...Can’t…”
He nodded, sitting down next to you. His hand slowly rested atop your head, his fingers running through your hair. “What’s wrong, my dear?”
You didn’t answer. He didn’t prod any further. Sighing, he got up from beside you.
As he stood up, you were sure he would leave… he should be hurt at how dismissive and cold you were to him. It was quiet right now. Yes, he should have left by now-
“Ah, there it is. Found your comb.”
Your comb? Why did he need that? You sit up slowly, watching him. He smiled at you fondly before walking back to the bed. Adjusting the pillows, he sat behind you and… started to brush your hair.
“Qifrey…”
“Shh… I know what you are going to say. And I don’t believe any of it.”
Before you could protest, he pressed a light kiss to the nape of your neck.
“Let me take care of you, my love… please”, he whispered. Your shoulders- which you didn’t even realise were tensed- sagged visibly as he said those words.
“Why?”
Qifrey laughed. That soft, breathy laugh that still sent shivers down your spine and made your heart clench. “Now that’s a silly question. I think, my dear, you know the answer to that yourself.”
A small smile made it’s way to your face. One he caught discretely before smiling to himself. Once he was done with your hair, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you back against his warm chest. “You didn’t finish the coffee… it got cold…do you want me to reheat it?”
Tears welled in your eyes. And Qifrey instantly knew it wasn’t because of the coffee. You were hurting. Hurting to the point where you felt numb inside. Hurting because your brain convinced yourself that any feelings you had didn’t matter and had to be hidden from everyone.
Even from him.
He pulled out a piece of paper with an incomplete glyph and completed it. Your eyes widened as a flower grew from it and dropped into his hand. Your favorite one… Your eyes rose to meet him as if asking what this meant. His gaze never left yours as he just said,
“Talk to me.”
And surprisingly… that was all it took. Your walls broke down as you held onto him.
You both spent all afternoon in the bedroom, just holding each other and sharing whispers and soft kisses. By nightfall, he took you and the girls outside to gaze at the stars.
Your eyes followed the young apprentices running around pointing at the constellations and chasing the fireflies that emerged from the grass. Wrapping the shawl around you tighter, you felt a little at ease. Like a small stone had been chipped off a boulder you insisted on carrying without even realising how much it hurt. Not completely alright… but you were getting there. And more importantly, you weren’t alone.
Qifrey’s arm wrapped around your shoulder as he smiled at you. “Enjoying the view?”
You nodded, slowly, a ghost of a smile making it’s way onto your face. “It is an exceptional night…”
He chuckled at that before turning towards you again, his hand, warm and safe, coming up to cup your face.
“I love you. And I promise you… we will get this sorted together. You and me. Always.”
“Always… “, you whispered back, your smile widening by a fraction. “I love you too.”
And his lips met yours in a soft, gentle kiss. The night was a beautiful one. And you knew he vowed to make each day just as beautiful for you. That was just how he loved people. And in this moment, you felt luckier than you’d ever before.
For he was yours and you were his. And you knew things would turn out fine.
The mug of warm coffee in your hand was proof of it.
There are two wolves inside of me one of them needs season 2 of witch hat atelier on my desk by yesterday and the other one knows if I want it to be as beautiful as season 1 we’re gonna have to wait minimum a year
Summary: It's been weeks since you last saw Qifrey, determined to stay away this time for his sake. It's been agony, but you're managing. Until one night the very man you've been trying to spare appears on the doorstep of your little healing spire deep in the woods he knows you haunt. It's desperation that has him seeking you out, though that cannot be blamed for the way he lingers in the haven of your home once necessity no longer demands it.
Pairing: Qifrey x Brimmed Cap!reader
Word Count: 2.4k~
Content/Warnings: angst, hurt/(some)comfort, exes, reader has chronic pain. Spoilers for those who haven’t watched the last ep of season 1!
A/N: hey loves heres part 2 as promised! ive really enjoyed writing brimmed cap reader trust ill be doing more both with Q and other WHA characters <333 {you can find Part 1 here!}
The muted grays of dusk have claimed the forest by the time you’ve reached the abandoned healing spire you call home, arms weighed down by your bundles of herbs. The trek back from the depths of the woods hadn’t been far, but the journey was made tiring by the constant sense that something was hovering just out of sight in the trees.
You could have sworn you’d caught the slightest glimpse of a black ribbon, the glint of golden spectacles in the dying light.
You must really be beginning to lose your grip on reality. In the handful of weeks since you’d last seen him, your mind had stayed fixated on Qifrey. The pained look on his face after the two of you kissed had seared itself into your memory. You saw him, scowling and tear-streaked, in every gloomy corner of the spire and every foggy shadow of the forest.
Staying away from him felt like withdrawal; longing gnawing at the base of your skull. But you had managed to fend off the urge to seek him out. There was a precious truth in your mind that kept your resolve solid. It wouldn’t be fair to him. And so, time crept forward, towing you along despite the way your heart ached with the growing distance.
But tonight there is work to be done, a blessing to someone so apt to wallow in their own misery. You tug off your heavy cloak once you’ve entered your little gothic home and make your way into the workshop to begin stringing up the herbs to dry.
Your hands are stiff and slow with the twine, sore from a day of yanking stubborn plants from the earth. You don’t make it very far into your collection before you need to stop; fishing in your bag for your palm quire. You’ll just take a moment to warm your hands to soothe their aching. You flip through the pages until you find the spell; dip your pen into the ink and make to close the ring, only to flinch your pen straight through the spells center when you hear someone pounding on the door of the spire.
“Who the hell would be wandering this deep into the woods this late?” You grumble bitterly as you crumple the ruined spell in your palm. You only pull the door open an inch or two before you realize who it is standing at the threshold of your home. He’s halted, arm still lifted to knock again, pointed cap sat crookedly atop his silver mop of hair.
“Qifrey?” The relief in your voice is humiliating. You’re not sure if this is real, or if you’ve finally utterly lost your mind.
“Mind if I come in?”
There’s a weariness in his voice that makes it impossible to turn him away, to do what you know is healthiest for you both and tell him to leave. Or at least, that’s what you tell yourself as you pull open the door and watch him step cautiously across the threshold into your home.
“What are you…” The question fades midway through as you watch him shed his cap and cloak and make his way into your dining room. By the time you’ve shaken the fog from your brain and followed him, he’s seated at your table; slumped over the oak surface with his head in his hands and his glasses discarded.
“I didn’t know who else to come to.”
You sit across from him cautiously, as if he’s a fawn you might scare off if you make too much noise.
“What’s going on?” There’s a tension in his limbs that makes you hesitant to ask, it’s clearly desperation that’s brought him to you.
He heaves a defeated sigh, and then the explanation comes tumbling from his lips. When he finishes, you’re left dizzied by the story and immediately overwhelmed with the task he’s requested of you.
“So this boy, Euini, was forcibly given a forbidden transformation seal tattoo by a brimmed cap wielding an empty cloak as a body.” You scrub at your tired eyes as you recount the key points. “The girls managed to retrieve from said brimmed cap an amulet etched with a counter-spell, but you want me to try and find a more permanent solution for the boy.” A recreation of the seal, meticulously redrawn in what could only be Alaira’s hand, sits on the table between you.
Qifrey looks more forlorn with every word you utter. Now that you really take him in, it’s clear he didn’t escape this nightmare unscathed either. Each time he shifts, you see the ghost of a wince flicker across his features.
“I didn’t know who else to ask, Alaira is with him in hiding. I couldn’t bring myself to condemn him to lose his memories at the hands of the Knights Moralis.”
Of course. What other option did he have than to further break the pact in trying to save this child? Perhaps it was this one small mercy you could give him, to dirty your own hands in forbidden magic to save him some semblance of morality.
“I’ll see what I can do.” Relief floods Qifrey’s face, brief and unguarded. “I’ll need to reverse this counter-spell to try and determine what can be done to permanently disable the original spell. I’m guessing neither you nor Alaira was able to get a good look at the casting seal?” Qifrey shakes his head, and a weary sigh knocks loose from your chest. The night was going to be long.
──────•✦•──────
By the time you look up from your work, the windows of the spire are dark with the inky black of night. Qifrey’s face, absent of its usual hostility in sleep, is rested on his crossed arms across from you. It’s selfish to have chosen not to send him home to his atelier when you began working. It wasn’t as if you had no way to contact him with updates on the seal; you’d have no trouble finding him wherever he wandered to. But he had been quick to fall asleep as you worked, and it felt almost crueler to wake him just to shove him out of your home.
Feeling the delicate muscles of your hand begin to seize with the stress of your harsh grip on the pen, you decide you need caffeine to keep you running through the night and stand as quietly as you can to depart for the kitchen. You’re barely done brewing the water for coffee when you hear Qifrey wake, his drowsy grumbling reaching you in the next room.
“Do you want any coffee before you begin the trek back to the atelier?” A gentle push towards his departure disguised as courtesy.
“No, I’m alright. Thank you darling.”
The pet name feels like a relic dug out from beneath the years of scorn and distance, the sound of it causing your stomach to turn. Neither of you acknowledge his slipup, but you know from the weight of the silence that it wounded Qifrey just as deeply to have momentarily unearthed the affection he used to have for you. You finish pouring your cup of coffee, stirring in cream and sugar and trying not to succumb to the hollow feeling slowly expanding in your stomach.
“Why did you tell me?”
Qifrey is picking anxiously at his fingers as he stands in your little kitchen, staring so intently at you as you freeze with the mug of coffee you had been sipping from raised halfway to your lips. You hadn’t even heard him approach, his footfalls silent as a ghost.
“Why did I tell you?” You know what he’s asking, but the question still rattles around in your head without real meaning. How could you have lied? The silence is deafening, but you can’t form a response worth dislodging your heart from your throat to speak.
“You could have kept it from me; stayed in the atelier and kept our life together intact.”
“You know I couldn’t.” His blue eye is an ocean of anger and hurt, trained so intensely on your face that you’re afraid you might be drowning in it. “You know it would have been too dangerous for me to stay there and practice forbidden magic in the same space as your apprentices.”
“You would never have caused them any harm, that much I know about you.”
He’s so close to understanding that it briefly kindles that now familiar anger only Qifrey could evoke from you.
“Of course I wouldn’t have harmed those girls!” Your voice shakes violently, the breath of it disturbing the steam rising gently from your cup. “How do you not grasp that it is for that exact reason I couldn’t continue to play house with you, Qifrey? That even if I would never cause them harm, there are witches in the Brimmed Caps who would delight in my connection to you; to Coco.”
He’s scowling again, that mirage of his painfully sour expression that had haunted you these past weeks made flesh in your dimly lit kitchen.
“Did you not want to stay? Was lying to me really so unbearable that you had to flee and hide yourself in the woods?”
Your fury is dying fast, smothered by exhaustion, and you cannot continue to fight like this anymore. The time away from him, though agonizing, had made clear that these circular conversations solved nothing. It wouldn’t be until the world was entirely reshaped, good or bad, that the two of you could reconcile your differences.
“I just couldn’t lie to you Qifrey. I have no explanation for it aside from this; I loved you far too much to shackle you to a façade. I had to leave you.”
For a moment there’s silence, broken only by the occasional faint sound of the tree branches swaying outside.
“Well, I suppose I wish you loved me less.”
It’s a whisper, choked by tears you’re trying not to watch fall, but it rings like the gunshot in your ears. There’s not a single word in any of the world's languages that can properly describe the pain that settles itself deep into your chest. In a lifetime of pain, nothing comes close to the searing anguish that seizes your heart.
“That’s… surprisingly selfish of you Qifrey.”
“I know.” He laughs, a bitter rueful sound that shouldn’t ever leave such beautiful lips.
There’s another stretch of silence as you swallow the rest of your coffee and set the cup in the water basin to be cleaned after Qifrey leaves. He’s still watching you, leaning against the frame of the door, looking unhappy but slightly less angry than he usually is in your presence. When you make to leave past him, he catches your arm in his hand, his grip gentle but firm. His gaze is cast downward when you try to make eye contact with him, his cheeks tinted pink with shame.
“Please don’t make me leave.” The words are barely audible, laced with a desperation that makes your heart ache. “Let me be selfish just for tonight.”
The tension hanging between you is unbearable. It feels as if Qifrey’s palm on your bare arm is searing his handprint into you. You should say no. You should tell him this will only make you both feel worse; he knows that better than you. You should pry your arm from his grip and wish him farewell so you can drown this longing in a bottle of Silvernectar wine.
“Alright.”
The word is barely past your lips as Qifrey pulls you flush against him, burying his face into your neck and wrapping his arms around you. He’s clinging to you like a child clings to a beloved stuffed animal, breath ragged with emotion he can’t verbalize as he presses a soft kiss against your collarbone. You manage to shake the shock that paralyzes you there in his arms, threading your fingers up into his silver hair and scratching softly at his scalp. A hum vibrates through him at the feeling and he presses impossibly closer. You just stay like that for a while, pressed together in the doorway.
Eventually you pull yourself away from him to clean the solitary mug in the basin, though your personal space remains non-existent as Qifrey follows and wraps his arms around your waist from behind. When you’ve finished, you turn in his grasp and pull him to you. The kiss is softer than your last all those weeks ago in the rain, though there’s still the ghost of that intensity and desperation. Each time you break for air the return is increasingly desperate, as if too long apart would leave room for reality to douse the spark of connection between you.
That’s the entirety of your night; feverish kisses that grow sloppier as you drink your way through the bottle of Silvernectar together, the constant feeling of Qifrey’s hands tugging you closer as if trying to fuse himself to you. There’re moments tinged with sadness, shared tears that mix with the wine flavored kisses, but the night ends with Qifrey beneath your layers of blankets in the drafty healing spire. He tucks you soundly into the curve of his body the way he had every night in the atelier, presses kisses to your bare shoulders. And as the sound of the tree branches swaying outside and his breath in your ear lulls you into sleep, Qifrey’s voice drifts through the ambience one final time, the venomous tone you had long since accepted as permanent replaced with a fondness that you had thought was long dead.
“I love you.”
When the sound of birdsong lifts you from sleep late the next morning, the space beside you in bed is empty. Qifrey had disappeared sometime in the dawn, like one of your ghosts, with the only evidence he had ever been in your home the half-finished deconstructed spell on your dining table and the two wine glasses in the wash basin, waiting to be rinsed.
It would be easy to drown in the sorrow that fills you at his absence. To let the mourning of the brief tenderness you’d had consume the day. Instead, despite your heavy heart and wicked hangover, you sit back at the table and take up your pen. Like always, work was a reprieve for someone so apt to wallow in their own misery; and Qifrey had left you quite the task to complete.
Hey babes! Reblogging this now that the last ep of the season is out <3 it’s now safe for anime only fans! Ty guys for all the love for Qifrey x brim cap reader, they’ll def be getting more love as soon as I work through some other ideas I have :)
Summary: It's been weeks since you last saw Qifrey, determined to stay away this time for his sake. It's been agony, but you're managing. Until one night the very man you've been trying to spare appears on the doorstep of your little healing spire deep in the woods he knows you haunt. It's desperation that has him seeking you out, though that cannot be blamed for the way he lingers in the haven of your home once necessity no longer demands it.
Pairing: Qifrey x Brimmed Cap!reader
Word Count: 2.4k~
Content/Warnings: angst, hurt/(some)comfort, exes, reader has chronic pain. Spoilers for those who haven’t watched the last ep of season 1!
A/N: hey loves heres part 2 as promised! ive really enjoyed writing brimmed cap reader trust ill be doing more both with Q and other WHA characters <333 {you can find Part 1 here!}
The muted grays of dusk have claimed the forest by the time you’ve reached the abandoned healing spire you call home, arms weighed down by your bundles of herbs. The trek back from the depths of the woods hadn’t been far, but the journey was made tiring by the constant sense that something was hovering just out of sight in the trees.
You could have sworn you’d caught the slightest glimpse of a black ribbon, the glint of golden spectacles in the dying light.
You must really be beginning to lose your grip on reality. In the handful of weeks since you’d last seen him, your mind had stayed fixated on Qifrey. The pained look on his face after the two of you kissed had seared itself into your memory. You saw him, scowling and tear-streaked, in every gloomy corner of the spire and every foggy shadow of the forest.
Staying away from him felt like withdrawal; longing gnawing at the base of your skull. But you had managed to fend off the urge to seek him out. There was a precious truth in your mind that kept your resolve solid. It wouldn’t be fair to him. And so, time crept forward, towing you along despite the way your heart ached with the growing distance.
But tonight there is work to be done, a blessing to someone so apt to wallow in their own misery. You tug off your heavy cloak once you’ve entered your little gothic home and make your way into the workshop to begin stringing up the herbs to dry.
Your hands are stiff and slow with the twine, sore from a day of yanking stubborn plants from the earth. You don’t make it very far into your collection before you need to stop; fishing in your bag for your palm quire. You’ll just take a moment to warm your hands to soothe their aching. You flip through the pages until you find the spell; dip your pen into the ink and make to close the ring, only to flinch your pen straight through the spells center when you hear someone pounding on the door of the spire.
“Who the hell would be wandering this deep into the woods this late?” You grumble bitterly as you crumple the ruined spell in your palm. You only pull the door open an inch or two before you realize who it is standing at the threshold of your home. He’s halted, arm still lifted to knock again, pointed cap sat crookedly atop his silver mop of hair.
“Qifrey?” The relief in your voice is humiliating. You’re not sure if this is real, or if you’ve finally utterly lost your mind.
“Mind if I come in?”
There’s a weariness in his voice that makes it impossible to turn him away, to do what you know is healthiest for you both and tell him to leave. Or at least, that’s what you tell yourself as you pull open the door and watch him step cautiously across the threshold into your home.
“What are you…” The question fades midway through as you watch him shed his cap and cloak and make his way into your dining room. By the time you’ve shaken the fog from your brain and followed him, he’s seated at your table; slumped over the oak surface with his head in his hands and his glasses discarded.
“I didn’t know who else to come to.”
You sit across from him cautiously, as if he’s a fawn you might scare off if you make too much noise.
“What’s going on?” There’s a tension in his limbs that makes you hesitant to ask, it’s clearly desperation that’s brought him to you.
He heaves a defeated sigh, and then the explanation comes tumbling from his lips. When he finishes, you’re left dizzied by the story and immediately overwhelmed with the task he’s requested of you.
“So this boy, Euini, was forcibly given a forbidden transformation seal tattoo by a brimmed cap wielding an empty cloak as a body.” You scrub at your tired eyes as you recount the key points. “The girls managed to retrieve from said brimmed cap an amulet etched with a counter-spell, but you want me to try and find a more permanent solution for the boy.” A recreation of the seal, meticulously redrawn in what could only be Alaira’s hand, sits on the table between you.
Qifrey looks more forlorn with every word you utter. Now that you really take him in, it’s clear he didn’t escape this nightmare unscathed either. Each time he shifts, you see the ghost of a wince flicker across his features.
“I didn’t know who else to ask, Alaira is with him in hiding. I couldn’t bring myself to condemn him to lose his memories at the hands of the Knights Moralis.”
Of course. What other option did he have than to further break the pact in trying to save this child? Perhaps it was this one small mercy you could give him, to dirty your own hands in forbidden magic to save him some semblance of morality.
“I’ll see what I can do.” Relief floods Qifrey’s face, brief and unguarded. “I’ll need to reverse this counter-spell to try and determine what can be done to permanently disable the original spell. I’m guessing neither you nor Alaira was able to get a good look at the casting seal?” Qifrey shakes his head, and a weary sigh knocks loose from your chest. The night was going to be long.
──────•✦•──────
By the time you look up from your work, the windows of the spire are dark with the inky black of night. Qifrey’s face, absent of its usual hostility in sleep, is rested on his crossed arms across from you. It’s selfish to have chosen not to send him home to his atelier when you began working. It wasn’t as if you had no way to contact him with updates on the seal; you’d have no trouble finding him wherever he wandered to. But he had been quick to fall asleep as you worked, and it felt almost crueler to wake him just to shove him out of your home.
Feeling the delicate muscles of your hand begin to seize with the stress of your harsh grip on the pen, you decide you need caffeine to keep you running through the night and stand as quietly as you can to depart for the kitchen. You’re barely done brewing the water for coffee when you hear Qifrey wake, his drowsy grumbling reaching you in the next room.
“Do you want any coffee before you begin the trek back to the atelier?” A gentle push towards his departure disguised as courtesy.
“No, I’m alright. Thank you darling.”
The pet name feels like a relic dug out from beneath the years of scorn and distance, the sound of it causing your stomach to turn. Neither of you acknowledge his slipup, but you know from the weight of the silence that it wounded Qifrey just as deeply to have momentarily unearthed the affection he used to have for you. You finish pouring your cup of coffee, stirring in cream and sugar and trying not to succumb to the hollow feeling slowly expanding in your stomach.
“Why did you tell me?”
Qifrey is picking anxiously at his fingers as he stands in your little kitchen, staring so intently at you as you freeze with the mug of coffee you had been sipping from raised halfway to your lips. You hadn’t even heard him approach, his footfalls silent as a ghost.
“Why did I tell you?” You know what he’s asking, but the question still rattles around in your head without real meaning. How could you have lied? The silence is deafening, but you can’t form a response worth dislodging your heart from your throat to speak.
“You could have kept it from me; stayed in the atelier and kept our life together intact.”
“You know I couldn’t.” His blue eye is an ocean of anger and hurt, trained so intensely on your face that you’re afraid you might be drowning in it. “You know it would have been too dangerous for me to stay there and practice forbidden magic in the same space as your apprentices.”
“You would never have caused them any harm, that much I know about you.”
He’s so close to understanding that it briefly kindles that now familiar anger only Qifrey could evoke from you.
“Of course I wouldn’t have harmed those girls!” Your voice shakes violently, the breath of it disturbing the steam rising gently from your cup. “How do you not grasp that it is for that exact reason I couldn’t continue to play house with you, Qifrey? That even if I would never cause them harm, there are witches in the Brimmed Caps who would delight in my connection to you; to Coco.”
He’s scowling again, that mirage of his painfully sour expression that had haunted you these past weeks made flesh in your dimly lit kitchen.
“Did you not want to stay? Was lying to me really so unbearable that you had to flee and hide yourself in the woods?”
Your fury is dying fast, smothered by exhaustion, and you cannot continue to fight like this anymore. The time away from him, though agonizing, had made clear that these circular conversations solved nothing. It wouldn’t be until the world was entirely reshaped, good or bad, that the two of you could reconcile your differences.
“I just couldn’t lie to you Qifrey. I have no explanation for it aside from this; I loved you far too much to shackle you to a façade. I had to leave you.”
For a moment there’s silence, broken only by the occasional faint sound of the tree branches swaying outside.
“Well, I suppose I wish you loved me less.”
It’s a whisper, choked by tears you’re trying not to watch fall, but it rings like the gunshot in your ears. There’s not a single word in any of the world's languages that can properly describe the pain that settles itself deep into your chest. In a lifetime of pain, nothing comes close to the searing anguish that seizes your heart.
“That’s… surprisingly selfish of you Qifrey.”
“I know.” He laughs, a bitter rueful sound that shouldn’t ever leave such beautiful lips.
There’s another stretch of silence as you swallow the rest of your coffee and set the cup in the water basin to be cleaned after Qifrey leaves. He’s still watching you, leaning against the frame of the door, looking unhappy but slightly less angry than he usually is in your presence. When you make to leave past him, he catches your arm in his hand, his grip gentle but firm. His gaze is cast downward when you try to make eye contact with him, his cheeks tinted pink with shame.
“Please don’t make me leave.” The words are barely audible, laced with a desperation that makes your heart ache. “Let me be selfish just for tonight.”
The tension hanging between you is unbearable. It feels as if Qifrey’s palm on your bare arm is searing his handprint into you. You should say no. You should tell him this will only make you both feel worse; he knows that better than you. You should pry your arm from his grip and wish him farewell so you can drown this longing in a bottle of Silvernectar wine.
“Alright.”
The word is barely past your lips as Qifrey pulls you flush against him, burying his face into your neck and wrapping his arms around you. He’s clinging to you like a child clings to a beloved stuffed animal, breath ragged with emotion he can’t verbalize as he presses a soft kiss against your collarbone. You manage to shake the shock that paralyzes you there in his arms, threading your fingers up into his silver hair and scratching softly at his scalp. A hum vibrates through him at the feeling and he presses impossibly closer. You just stay like that for a while, pressed together in the doorway.
Eventually you pull yourself away from him to clean the solitary mug in the basin, though your personal space remains non-existent as Qifrey follows and wraps his arms around your waist from behind. When you’ve finished, you turn in his grasp and pull him to you. The kiss is softer than your last all those weeks ago in the rain, though there’s still the ghost of that intensity and desperation. Each time you break for air the return is increasingly desperate, as if too long apart would leave room for reality to douse the spark of connection between you.
That’s the entirety of your night; feverish kisses that grow sloppier as you drink your way through the bottle of Silvernectar together, the constant feeling of Qifrey’s hands tugging you closer as if trying to fuse himself to you. There’re moments tinged with sadness, shared tears that mix with the wine flavored kisses, but the night ends with Qifrey beneath your layers of blankets in the drafty healing spire. He tucks you soundly into the curve of his body the way he had every night in the atelier, presses kisses to your bare shoulders. And as the sound of the tree branches swaying outside and his breath in your ear lulls you into sleep, Qifrey’s voice drifts through the ambience one final time, the venomous tone you had long since accepted as permanent replaced with a fondness that you had thought was long dead.
“I love you.”
When the sound of birdsong lifts you from sleep late the next morning, the space beside you in bed is empty. Qifrey had disappeared sometime in the dawn, like one of your ghosts, with the only evidence he had ever been in your home the half-finished deconstructed spell on your dining table and the two wine glasses in the wash basin, waiting to be rinsed.
It would be easy to drown in the sorrow that fills you at his absence. To let the mourning of the brief tenderness you’d had consume the day. Instead, despite your heavy heart and wicked hangover, you sit back at the table and take up your pen. Like always, work was a reprieve for someone so apt to wallow in their own misery; and Qifrey had left you quite the task to complete.
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.
part 2 of this is pretty much done! I’ve got a little more editing to do and then I’ll probably upload with spoiler warnings until the last ep of the anime comes out next week <3 sorry it’s taken SO long I got a little obsessed with pokopia and didn’t work on it for days😭
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Okay so pt 2 of The Cure is in the works (yippee!) but I think the idea I want to use for it might require me keeping it in the drafts until season one is complete in like two ish weeks if I want it to be safe for anime only fans🥲 We shall see if I’m willing to wait that long (I prob will) or if I post it with a spoiler warning, would love to know what you guys would prefer!
