Summary: Qifrey really shouldn't be bothered. You're a decorated inventor, loved by witches and Unknowings alike. Of course people are drawn to you. Of course that man across the courtyard can't stop talking to you. Of course Qifrey has absolutely no claim over you whatsoever. None at all. The two of you are nothing. Right?
Tags: Jealous Qifrey, Pining, Slow burn, Mutual pining, Unresolved tension, Olruggio is the only sensible one.
Warnings: None, I don't think!
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
Qifrey really shouldn’t be surprised.
You’re incredible. You were a decorated inventor praised for ground breaking innovations in survival magic. From linked bottles for long-distance communications, to water purification spells, and even a self mapping lantern, you had made ripples in the realm of magic– no, you had made waves.
So really, Qifrey shouldn’t be at all bothered by the sight of a man, no older than himself, engaging animatedly in conversation with you. Afterall, how many times had he sat by and watched you engage in similar exchanges with curious witches and unknowings?
How could he fault them? He too was enamored by you.
But still, he couldn’t help the slow heat curdling in his stomach at the sight of just how close the pair of you were.
Perhaps it was the way you were responding to the man just as passionately, laying a hand over his arm in your own excitement. Or maybe, it was the way your head would tip back in delight at a joke he had said. Not Qifrey, him.
Qifrey leaned against the stone pillar, arms crossed tightly in front of him. He felt his lip curl at the sight of the man leaning in to whisper something in your ear.
Truthfully, Qifrey had no right to be upset. It wasn’t as if the pair of you were exclusive.
He shook his head.
It wasn’t even as if the man you were talking to was making any advances towards you. He was just an Unknowing, infatuated with the idea of magic. How could he blame him for that?
Qifrey breathed deeply in attempts to compose his firing thoughts.
Regardless, Qifrey was only here in town to support you. The girls had run off to replenish their supplies with Olruggio and how could he leave you all alone? What would you do if you found yourself stuck in a dreadful conversation with no one to save you?
The sound of your bright laugh pulled Qifrey out of his thoughts. He couldn’t help the slow smile that spread onto his face at the sound before he remembered who had drawn that sound from you.
Perhaps it was him that needed saving.
You laughed again, a tinkling sound as you looked away from the man, bashfully. The man grinned at the sight pointing back to your latest invention.
Qifrey wondered what he was saying to make you so shy. Presumably complimenting the sheer brilliance of your mind.
He snorted, childishly.
He knew you were brilliant far before any Unknowing did. Is that what you wanted to hear from him? Because he would tell you day in and day out just how brilliant he found you if it meant you would look at him as sweetly as you were to him.
He shook his head, looking down towards his slightly scruffed Sylph shoes.
Qifrey was being unfair and he knew it.
He wasn’t going to say that there was nothing between the two of you because that would be a blatant lie. But had the two of you ever talked about the buzzing tension between you? Had anything been acknowledged?
If you asked any of the other inhabitants of the Atelier you would get a resounding no. Honestly, Qifrey was starting to think that your little back and forth dance might be entirely too much tension for poor Tetia.
Still, an embarrassingly large part of Qifrey couldn’t help but revel in the feeling of your fleeting gaze meeting his teasingly, or your lingering touches, or your waggling brows when you whisper a slightly sexual innuendo to him, so close to prying ears.
But officially, the pair of you were nothing more than house-mates– co-workers, even.
Qifrey looked up from his idle feet to find your eyes already trained on him.
He blinked.
Almost as if you had read his mind you gazed across the courtyard at him through narrowed eyes and a sly grin. The man from before was still talking spiritedly to you, seemingly undeterred by your lack of attention.
Qifrey smiled back, cautiously. He knew that grin. That was the face that greeted him right before he found a broken vase or children running wild in the Atelier.
That was the smile he saw when you were about to tease him.
You turned away from him to look back at the tall man in front of you, though this time, Qifrey could tell you held no interest for what it was he was saying, spurred by a new task.
You nodded, idly, smiling with mock shyness as your hands moved to rest at the curve of his bicep.
The man almost inflated under the heat of your affection, puffing out his chest as he kept talking, face resting in a ridiculous smirk that Qifrey would love to just wipe off.
“You’re really not going to do anything about that?”
Qifrey jumped at the sound of Olruggio’s drawl to the left of the pillar he was leaned on.
He clutched his chest, in shock, “Where did you come from?”
Olruggio shrugged, still staring at you and the man, amused. “The Starry Sword.”
Qifrey looked down, scanning the ground for four busy-bodied girls.
“They ran off somewhere.” Olruggio supplied, simply.
He nodded his head back to you, casting a sidelong glance at Qifrey, “Now, what are you going to do about that?”
Qifrey leveled him with an unimpressed look, turning back to face you. In the absence of his attention, the man’s hand had traveled to rest at the junction of your hip and waist.
Qifrey felt his teeth grit together.
“They’re a grown witch.” Qifrey grumbled, almost against his will.
“They’re your grown witch.”
Qifrey’s eyes widened, cheeks flushing as he rounded on Olruggio.
“They’re not my anything!” He spluttered, face reddening.
It was true. You weren’t his. But gosh did he wish you were.
His flush deepened at his own accusatory thoughts.
Qifrey could practically feel Olruggio’s blasé look aimed at him as he allowed a low, annoyed groan to escape him.
“The two of you are hopeless.” He deadpanned, turning to walk back towards the market, “Come find me when you finally come to your senses.”
He paused before turning back to glance at Qifrey once more, “And Qifrey? There’s something special about them. Make sure you act fast before someone else beats you to it.”
Qifrey stared at the back of Olruggio’s retreating form, contemplatively.
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Summary: You've been trying to make your feelings known for long enough. Stolen glances, lingering touches, loaded conversations, how much clearer could you possibly be? So if Qifrey needs a little push to finally say what you both already know, then fine. You'll give him one. It just doesn't quite go according to plan...
Tags: Pining, Mutual pining, Slow burn, Jealousy, Reader uses an unknowing as a pawn😬, It backfires a little..., Uncomfortable situation, Qifrey to the rescue, Unresolved tension, readers trying so hard icl, Part two
Warnings: Mildly uncomfortable situation with the unknowing, nothing serious, just a man who doesn't know when to stop. Also reader deserves a medal for patience.
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Truthfully, you felt a bit bad for roping this unknowing into your schemes. Though, judging by his roaming eyes and over-excited hands, you had the sense that he didn’t mind all that much.
You threw another quick glance at where Qifrey had been standing, glumly staring at you, only to be met by the back of his head.
You couldn’t help but pout, slightly put off by his sudden lack of attention. What could’ve been important enough to distract him from the sight of someone else charming you? Someone else making you snort with laughter? Someone else touching you?
You brought your hand up to rest against the man’s chest.
How would Qifrey respond then? How would he respond to you not only allowing another man’s advances, but reciprocating it?
The two of you were technically nothing. But that hardly meant that you couldn’t try, and boy, had you been trying. Really though, how many signs did you need to give to make your intentions any clearer?
It would’ve been a different story if he didn’t reciprocate, but the stolen looks and flirty banter had to be indicative of something.
“Why the pout?”
You blinked, suddenly reminded of the man standing in front of you. Gently, he pulled at the flesh of your bottom lip which was still pinched into a frown.
You sighed, boredly allowing it.
Why wouldn’t you? If a certain someone had a problem with it, then he could come and deal with it himself. As a matter of fact, he really had no right to object to your current actions. If he wanted you exclusively then he would have to take a step up– not that you would ever sincerely entertain another.
You casted another, embarrassingly longing, glance towards Qifrey only to find a lone stone pillar.
Had he left you?
Your brows furrowed as you let your gaze roam the range of the courtyard, searching for that familiar head of white hair.
He wouldn't leave you, would he?
You bit your lip.
Had you gone too far? Your only hope was trying to push him to finally confess whatever it was he felt about you, not to upset him– never to upset him.
You closed your eyes, cursing at yourself.
Of course it was too much. How would you have reacted if you had seen him with a loose grin on his face as some random person threw themselves all over him?
Your skin prickled uncomfortably at the thought.
“Hey, what’s wrong?”
Your eyes move back to settle on the man towering over you.
Had he always been so tall?
The man leaned in, eyes trained steadily on you. “Looking for someone?”
You couldn’t help but flinch slightly at the sudden motion. His hand placed firmly on your hip suddenly felt less like a harmless touch and more like a caging grip.
Your eyes jumped from him to the pillar where Qifrey was.
You didn’t like going to town alone. Aside from the fact that going alone was rather boring, you’d also found yourself on the receiving end of far more attention than what you were used to. You supposed that was the price of being a well-known inventor. Still, you were starting to realize that it was a lot easier to be quickly overwhelmed without the knowledge that Qifrey was nearby if anything were to go wrong.
Like now.
Had you truly pushed him too far? You were only teasing.
The man’s grip on your waist tightened, just barely but you could tell.
“Hey, maybe you could give me some private lessons?”
You looked back at the man, through narrowed eyes. “Private lessons?”
He smiled.
You recoiled.
How had you found that smile so harmless just mere minutes ago?
“Yeah you know, show me how your little trinkets work.” He gestured his head to your stall behind you.
You grimaced at the thought of being stuck in a confined space with him.
“I’m actually waiting for someone.” You bit back, less eloquently than you wished.
Truthfully, you felt a bit bad. At first, the man had only been trying to convey his gratitude for your creations. He was just another unknowing fascinated by magic. Now you had gone and made a whole mess of the situation. More importantly, you had apparently finally driven Qifrey to his limit.
Or maybe he never truly cared for whatever it was the two of you shared.
You felt your heart pull uncomfortably at the unwanted thought.
“Come on. Perhaps you can give me a private lesson on two-person magic.” His voice lowered to a suggestive drawl.
Before your face could even twitch in discomfort you felt his arms jerk away from their spot on your waist.
“Perhaps not.”
You stumbled back before a firm, comforting hand settled around your waist. You yelped in surprise, hand flying up to a broad, familiar chest in attempts to steady yourself.
You looked up to meet Qifrey staring back at you.
Oh, so he hadn’t left.
He smiled softly, as if this moment were no different than a run in at the Atelier, but you knew better. His smile seemed clipped, the corners of his mouth tapering out into a fine, curt line.
Your eyes moved up to glance at the small divot in between his brows.
Was he concerned for you?
You couldn’t help the flutter blooming deep in your chest before you schooled your expression.
Afterall, you were still upset at him for his lack of forwardness– however unfair that might be. Not to mention there was still a matter of–
“What the hell?” The man from before spat out, regaining his footing from when Qifrey must have shoved him.
You blinked as if only just remembering the glaring source of your discomfort from moments ago.
You felt Qifrey tense slightly, arm twitching to hold you a bit tighter.
“I sense your presence is no longer wanted here.” Qifrey chimed, lightly, albeit bluntly.
He looked down to you, tucked into his side, “Right?”
You startled at the sudden attention of both men trained on you before nodding.
“Right,” you affirmed.
The man bristled before spinning on his heel, grumbling something about ‘just talking’ under his breath.
You let out a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding.
“I could’ve dealt with him.” you muttered, your voice a lot more feeble than you had intended.
It was true, you could’ve easily dealt with the man, but would you have? Or would you have just let the uncomfortable interaction run its course, scared of offending him or brushing it off as him just being nice?
You couldn’t help but shiver nervously at the thought.
Qifrey sighed, wearily before detaching himself from your side, though not pulling his hand away from where it was planted against your hip.
You couldn’t help a flare of annoyance spike through you at his sigh. Though, upon reflection, wasn’t this precisely what you had wanted? You were getting a reaction. Maybe all he needed was a push. And anyway, you would rather pivot to anger than dwell any longer on the remnant anxiousness you still felt.
“I’m sorry, have I inconvenienced you?” You questioned, pointedly.
Qifrey leveled you with an unimpressed look before shaking his head.
“Are you alright?” He asked softly scanning you head-to-toe as if searching for something amiss.
You groaned, pushing him away.
“Are you seriously unbothered?” You couldn’t help the sharp bite of accusation worm its way into your question.
He stared blankly at you, mouth parted slightly as if he wanted to say something but didn’t know what.
How could he be so clueless?
You rolled your eyes turning to go somewhere– anywhere– that he wasn’t before you were pulled to a stop by his grip on your wrist.
“Are you cross with me?” He remarked, incredulously.
You scoffed, hand twisting in attempts to shake his grip, “What gave it away?”
His eyes narrowed, grip unwavering. “Is it because I sent him away? Because if it is I'm sorry I thought you looked uncomfortable–”
You paused, staring at him as he rambled before an angry, unbelieving laugh bubbled hot in your chest.
Was that really what he thought?
“No, Qifrey. It’s because of you!” You were grateful that the courtyard had mostly cleared out by now because if the sight of Qifrey and the man’s near fight didn’t catch their attention, your yelling surely would have.
Qifrey winced at your shout, not because you were particularly loud, but because he wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of it.
Just as quickly as you had said it, you felt regret flood your systems. If you looked at Qifrey’s dejected expressions for any longer you might just give up then and there, letting all the play teasing and flirting continue forever with no end goal in sight.
You turned away from him, pulling your hand free from his lax grip.
“Come find me when you figure it out.”
Your voice held no more bite. You really couldn’t bring yourself to add any.
More than anything, you just hoped he’d take your advice.
Summary: It's been three days. Three days of cold shoulders and clipped conversations and a dining table that feels far too large for one person. Qifrey has been stupid– he knows this. What he doesn't know is what to do about it. Though, perhaps the answer has been waiting for him at the end of the hall this whole time.
Tags: Mutual pining, Slow burn, Confession, He finally figures it out, Three days too long, Soft Qifrey, Qifrey you idiot we were rooting for you
Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff, Idiots in love, Slight angst if you squint but it resolves I promise, That's it enjoy your meal
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It had only been 3 days since Qifrey and you had gone into town but, in Qifrey’s overworked mind, he would tell you it's been weeks. Long weeks of icy cold shoulders and clipped conversations.
It had gotten to the point that the girls and Olruggio had determined staying in their rooms to be the safest course of action, leaving the Atelier in an unusually quiet state.
Qifrey stared down at his untouched plate of food. His hands were placed unmoving in his lap as he considered picking up his fork. Though, he figured the most he would do with it is poke and prod at the stew, and so his hands remained unmoving.
The girls had opted for dinner in their respective rooms, Olruggio had gone off somewhere, and you had yet to come down.
Qifrey grimaced, the thought of you serving as an instant reminder of just how he got into this situation.
How long could the Atelier stand to go on like this. How long could he?
In the three short days of icy tension between you, Qifrey had already begun feeling something akin to withdrawal in your absence. He missed your unabashed smile and playful touches. He missed your bright laughter and the ease of your conversations. He missed being able to see you, talk to you, hold you. He missed you. He missed you so much that he ached. He longed for you to just look at him or spend more than a second in his presence.
What would it take for you to forgive him? An apology? Groveling? Whatever it was he would do it without a second though if only you would say something.
But then again, you had said something. You told him to only find you once he had ‘figured it out’.
Qifrey sighed, resting his elbows against the smooth grain of the table.
What did you want?
It had been three incredibly long days, devoid of your presence and already Qifrey was beginning to fray at the seams. He truly didn’t know how much farther he could go on like this. Honestly, he didn't know how he managed to get on with his life for so long before he met you. Now, you were as vital as oxygen to him.
How long could he go on until his supply went out? How long until you tire of this sad game that your connection had been reduced to?
Qifrey’s skin prickled uncomfortably at the thought.
Though, Qifrey could manage this. He could live through all the awkward conversations and deflective words, so long as it meant you were still here by his side, but what of you? What if this limbo never resolved? Would you tire of him then? Would you consider leaving him?
Qifrey pushed away from the table, breathing suddenly constricted at the thought. The fork clattered to the table in the rush of his own movements.
If he could hardly handle three days with your limited attention, what would he do if you did leave? How could he possibly live on with nothing but the ghost of your presence?
Who would wake the girls up? Who would he tease Olruggio with? What would he do?
He shook his head at the thought, instead willing his feet to round the corner towards your room.
If groveling is what you wanted then he would grovel until his knees were bloodied and voice hoarse.
He paused, mere inches from your door. His face was flushed in his own anticipation.
What would you say? If you turned him away now Qifrey wouldn’t know what to do with himself.
He brought a tentative hand up to the wood of the door, holding it there, suspended. He trembled slightly with nerves.
Qifrey held his breath in an attempt to catch a sound of your movement from inside.
What must you be doing?
You hadn’t come down all day. Qifrey knows this because he had been waiting in the common area all day, hoping to run into you.
Had you been practicing magic tirelessly? He wouldn’t be surprised. It wasn’t a rare occurrence for you to be so caught up in your work that you forgot to eat or sleep.
Qifrey shut his eyes in frustration, cursing under his breath. He should have brought you food. He suddenly felt very silly standing in front of your room blushing in embarrassment and empty-handed.
Perhaps he should just go, letting you come to him when you felt ready.
He flinched, hard as the door swung open, dowsing the hazy darkness of the hallway with bright light.
Though, Qifrey wasn’t caught by the light, but rather the sight of you. You looked magnificent. Your hair was pushed back and tied, messily. Deep black ink stained the flesh of your hands. At some point of the day you must have lazily pushed hair from your face because there were randomly placed swipes of stained ink on your face and neck.
Qifrey felt his face flush at the realization of how long he had been staring, admiring you, but what else could he do?
You stared up at him with an expression he couldn’t quite place. Was it expectation or perhaps confusion?
“Can I come in?” His voice was slightly hoarse from disuse. He cleared it, hurriedly.
You stared at him for a beat before sighing and moving out from the doorway, “Sure.”
He stepped in, looking away from you to survey your room. It was one of Qifrey’s favorite rooms before you had come to the Atelier. He wanted to make it an extension of his study. There were large window panes, allowing for ample light to filter in throughout the day. Now, the large windows had been propped open, permitting a gentle cool breeze to brush through Qifrey’s hair.
Your stationary was a mess, laid out with little care onto your bed.
Qifrey couldn’t help but smile because it was just so very like you.
“What did you want to talk about?” You asked, plainly, but not unkindly.
Qifrey turned back to look towards you. Your hands were braced on your hips as you stared at him, expectantly.
He couldn’t imagine this room as anything but yours. He couldn’t imagine himself as anything but yours.
“I’m sorry.” He blurted out.
You raised your brow at him. He wrung his hands together.
He only then realized how tense you looked. Your shoulders were tight, braced as if protecting yourself from a blow you were sure was coming. Your own hands were rigid at your hips in a white knuckled grip.
To an outsider, you looked just as nervous as he was.
How he longed to take your hands in his, kneading all the tension out until they were as soft as pliant clay in his hands.
Instead, Qifrey steeled his own nerves as he walked towards you, stopping mere inches from where you stood.
“I was stupid. I’ve been so stupid.”
He watched as your features softened into something he could only describe as relief. Your shoulders fell slightly as you took him in.
Qifrey hesitantly moved his hand up to gently cup your face. How long had he yearned to do this? To have you in such a soft way. To comfort you in his arms. He only wished he wasn’t the cause of your suffering.
“I’ve been cruel and unfair. You asked me to find you when I figured it out." He paused, thumb brushing gently against your cheek. "I've figured it out."
His heart pounded loudly against his chest, a dull metronome compared to the feeling of you gently leaning into the warmth of his palm.
"The truth is I think I've known for a long time. I just didn't know what to do with it– with you. With how much I want you here. How much I need you here." He spoke in hurried breaths, as if scared you would decide you were tired of hearing whatever it was he had to say. "You are everything. And I was terrified of saying that and losing whatever it was we already had. But I think I've already lost it by saying nothing and I can't —" he shook his head. "I won't let that happen. Not again.”
His eyes searched yours, almost desperately.
"I'm sorry–”
You laughed, an almost watery sound.
“You’re so dumb.”
He paused, not a flutter of dejection on his face as you wound your arms around his neck, resting comfortably.
“You won't lose me. You can't. The moment I first laid eyes on you, I was yours.” Your voice lowered into a soft murmur.
In a slow movement you pull him to your height, lips hovering mere centimeters from each other.
He searched your face in the small space between you. The ink smudged carelessly across the curve of your cheek. The way the inner corners of your brows pulled together, perfectly framing the soft expectation in your eyes. The fact that you had just so easily– so simply– told him that you were his.
As if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Perhaps it was.
Qifrey had spent so long convincing himself that he had no right to want this– to want you. How could he when you had already been gracious enough to bless him with your infectious joy and warm presence. To want more would have been greedy. And yet, Qifrey found himself to be the greediest man on the planet. Still, here you were looking up at him as if he had simply taken too long to arrive somewhere you had been waiting for him all along.
He angled his head, leaning into the warmth of your arm. He held his breath as his lips brushed tentatively against yours, as if to give you a way out, because if he started now, he didn’t think he would be capable of stopping.
Your lashes fluttered shut, brushing against Qifrey’s cheek from your closeness. You melted in his soft hold, becoming almost boneless in his grip.
Qifrey moved his hand from the supple skin of your cheek to grip the nape of your neck, angling your face upward.
Your hands against his neck tightened as you let out a low breathless whine.
“Qifrey.”
Just his name. Nothing more. But the way it left your blushed lips so sweetly and sure, like the last gentle stroke of a spell, was all he needed.
He closed the gap between you, pulling you flush against his front.
Maybe it wasn’t nothing.
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Authors Note: Ask away if you wanna see me right something specific!!! But all doneee! Wow I'm lowk bonded to them now like I kinda wanna right more of themmm what do you mean its over ☹️ (ik it was only three parts but let me live) BUT THANK GOD IT IS, THEY NEEDED TO LOCK IN. Anyway hope you guys enjoyed the series!
hiii i wonder if anyone has requested this or sumn similar but how abt a reader who has been very open abt her infatuation towards qifrey since when they were apprentices and qifrey has alw avoided her/ not returned the feelings/ enthusiasm/ kindness as much as shed like… maybe even a harsh rejection… then ff to adulthood where theyre certified witches now and reader works for the knights moralis… how would their dynamic be especially in the episode where they “capture” coco (maybe thats them meeting again after years)
idk where im going w this but maybe an unrequited to requited trope and maybe squeeze in some easthies as a “rival” to qifrey
thank u 🫶🏼
Known Better
Qifrey x reader
Warnings: ANGSTTT, Qifrey needs to lock in, ep 7/8 spoilers, not edited, so much angst, lowk wrote this while partially under anesthesia...
a/n: gulp idk chat. anon I hope I did this justice I kinda put my own spin on it but hope you enjoy! Also sorry guys lowk disappeared for a sec, went on vaca and then got my wisdom teeth out but I'm back! Hope yall enjoy!
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Against his better judgment, Qifrey found himself frozen. Easthies’ hand moved dangerously close to Coco’s face, ready to wipe her memories– ready to wipe his only hope. Yet, all Qifrey could focus on was just how much you had changed.
You hovered, mere feet behind Easthies, staring– not unkindly– at Coco. There was something so different yet so familiar about you. Your stature had changed. Your shoulders were rolled back, your Knights Moralis regalia worn proudly. Your hair was different, as was your expressions.
For the first time, Qifrey suddenly felt as though he couldn’t read your emotions– not like he used to. Well, not quite. Your eyes hadn’t changed. You always had that piercing stare.
Still, you weren’t that bashful, bright-eyed fellow apprentice that used to follow him around the Great Hall anymore. No, you had grown. Grown wasn’t even the right word. You had matured.
Qifrey almost lost himself in his thought before you reacted.
Qifrey didn’t see it coming– neither did Easthies, but you had gasped, eyes darting with alarmingly quick reflexes. You angled your Sylph shoes, flying back just as Richeh barreled head-first into Easthies, knocking his hand away from Coco’s face.
In a brilliant flash of light, the ribbons binding Coco and Aggot in the sky singed away, sending his two apprentices in a free fall towards the hard ground.
Qifrey flinched into motion, feet already angling to propel him towards the pair before he caught a brief flash of pink hair followed by a large sandy cushion.
He breathed out a sight of relief, Tetia had learned well.
Easthies, rubbed at his wrist, out of soreness from Richeh’s attack or annoyance, he did not know.
“Who are they?”
You cleared your throat, quickly regaining your composure as you flew back to his side, “Children sir, they burned the pennants.”
Qifrey watched as your eyes narrowed to stare down Richeh who had begun to retort in sharp tones. The other three girls moved to position themselves at Richeh’s side, their small faces set in hard determined lines. He watched Aggot’s hands slide into her coat, no doubt closing her fists around her components.
Qifrey had a complicated relationship with the Knights Moralis. He toed the line of what was allowed by the pact, and he was well aware of this. That was why he had tried his best to avoid them. That wasn’t the only reason of course.
Qifrey angled his Sylph shoes, moving silently to round behind you and Easthies’ group.
There was a matter of you. You had grown up together. You were friends, even. Until you weren’t. Until you had stopped waiting up for him, stopped talking his ear off, stopped trying. It wasn’t like he tried terribly to salvage whatever it was that he had lost, but still. Things like this required a degree of sensitivity or, in Qifrey’s case, complete avoidance.
“... as such, exceptions can not be allowed.” Easthies’ baritone voice cut through Qifrey’s thoughts. Truthfully, he wasn’t too fond of Easthies, but now, seeing him glowing with the force of his own righteousness– seeing you, standing tall at his side, filled him with a bitter feeling. It was simply wrong, Qifrey told himself.
You weren’t supposed to be standing next to him, that's just not how Qifrey had imagined you would be. You were never supposed to ally yourself against him.
He was only angry because this whole situation was fundamentally wrong. Nothing more.
Yet, that didn’t explain why he held the rain cleaver in such a punishing grip. If he held it any tighter it might just fracture under the strain of his unexplainable anger.
“So very talkative Easthies, and so determined not to listen.” Qifrey caught the way his voice trailed off into a growl almost as quick as he noticed your jump of surprise. It filled him with an odd sense of relief to see he still had some effect on you.
Just as quick as your surprise came, it was gone, your gaze hardening and shoulders squaring defensively.
You drifted slightly closer to Easthies before Qifrey angled the blade, suspended in the air, closer, just short of Easthies’ throat. He raised a trying brow in your direction as if urging you to try your luck.
Your lips pressed into a firm line.
“Do show my apprentices some respect, won’t you?” Qifrey finished, staring down at Easthies from the shaft of his blade.
“Of course, these girls are yours, and every bit as insolent as their master.” Easthies mused, almost bored as he turned to stare at you.
You don’t look away from Qifrey.
“If it means they’re unlike you, I welcome their insolence.” Qifrey swears for a second he saw the corner of your lip quirk up before you smothered it flat, schooling your expression
He pulled the blade away from Easthies, “Especially if this is how the knights Moralis operate.”
Easthies’ gaze follows his blade as he rolls his head, stretching his neck as if suddenly sore.
Not that Qifrey was watching him. He was watching as you bristled at the jab. Oddly enough, the sight didn’t fill him with the satisfaction he thought it would. Or perhaps, he just wasn't used to you not jumping to agree with his every statement.
Easthies turned, pulling your attention away from Qifrey as he whispers to you in hushed tones. He laid a hand over yours holding your staff. His head dipped lower to better catch your eyes.
Qifrey felt his stomach twist in something he couldn’t quite place. How strange it was to be on the outside, he thought.
“Oi, you two!” Qifrey begrudgingly pulled his heated gaze away from the pair of you.
“Have you forgotten what a witch’s purpose is?” Olruggio gestured, towards the townspeople, sprawled against the empty river bed.
He watched you lean close to Easthies, your voice dropped too low to carry. Whatever you said, Easthies nodded once in response before gesturing to the others. The group dispersed– each peeling off in different directions until only you remained floating feet from Qifrey.
Everything in Qifrey’s mind told him this was wrong. That you shouldn’t be here, standing opposite him adorned in red. But then why did it look so right on you? Why did you look so good?
Qifrey shook his head. What was he saying? You looked good? He scoffed at himself, looking down as he resheathed the rain cleaver.
“She broke the pact– your apprentice."
Qifrey blinked, almost surprised that you had broken the silence first.
You stared at him, unblinking. He noticed the way you gripped your staff in a white-knuckled fist as if waiting for a reason to brandish it against him. Though, he couldn't really blame you by the way his hand was still held loosely around his blade.
But did you really think he could ever use it against you?
His grip slackened as his hand fell to his side. He caught the way your eyes darted down at the motion.
He didn’t know if it was the accusation in your eyes or the way your body tensed in apprehension every time he moved, but he found his mouth moving quicker than his mind could keep up.
“Things were different between us once.”
He held his breath the moment the words left his lips.
You blinked. Once. Then something that wasn't quite a laugh left you– short and disbelieving, like the sentence had caught you somewhere soft you thought you'd long since armored over. Something flickered across your face, there and gone before he could name it. Your grip on your staff tightened. Your gaze moved somewhere past his shoulder, jaw working slightly, as if deciding on something.
“Were they?” You questioned, voice teetering between professional and bitter.
Qifrey opened his mouth before you held your hand up, sharply.
“No, I’ll tell you what you clearly missed. I was not subtle, Qifrey. I was never subtle. And you looked right through it for years until I finally had the good sense to stop looking back."
You shook your head, laughing incredulously, "You didn't reject me. I want to be clear about that. You never thought about me long enough to reject me. I just eventually stopped giving you the opportunity to."
You bring your hand up to rest against your forehead in a futile effort to ground yourself. You told yourself you wouldn’t do this. You told yourself that seeing him wouldn’t change anything– that you had grown. You have grown. You made a life for yourself– a life that you were proud to live.
Qifrey’s brows pulled together. He didn't move. Didn't reach for his blade, didn't adjust his stance. He just stopped. Then, after a beat he drifted forward, just barely, before catching himself. you noticed. He knew you’d notice.
He shut his eyes, cursing quietly under his breath.
You pursed your lips, nodding.
Of course he had nothing to say. He never had anything to say. Why did you always do this to yourself–
"I noticed when you stopped." A beat. "I just didn't understand what it meant until right now."
You felt your heart pound against your ribs, each thump getting louder and louder.
His eyes fluttered open and immediately found yours, as if that was the only place they belonged.
"I didn't know." He said it simply, which was somehow worse than if he'd been defensive about it. "I didn't know and that's–” He shook his head, “I understand if that's worse."
You shut your eyes.
You had grown up with him.
"Qifrey." Not a question, not an answer. Just his name in a voice that sounded far too much like the person you used to be. “Don’t do this to me again.”
Your voice came out softer than you intended– quieter, stripped of the professional distance you'd spent the whole conversation maintaining. You hated it immediately.
You steeled your expression, looking off somewhere past his shoulder, "Don't do this right now. I worked very hard to get here."
“I know.” He murmured. “You have this job, you have him.”
You catch the way his voice lowered in annoyance at Easthies. You shut your eyes, sighing as your hand came up to pinch between your brows. Something left you that wasn't quite a laugh this time. It was something softer, more tired.
“It was never him, Qifrey.”
You held your eyes closed for a beat, almost expectantly. You don’t know what you were hoping for. A declaration, perhaps?
You scoff, bitterly at yourself. Your eyes fluttered open, angling your Sylph shoes away from him. Not quickly, just a small shift. Like your body had decided before your mind did. Perhaps it was better that way.
"Is it too late?" Something about his voice made you pause. It was the rush, you think. The desperation bordering on hopefulness. Like this was something he hadn't meticulously pre-planned. Like this was something he truly wanted. Like he already suspected the answer and was asking anyway.
Your gaze drifted down to where your team moved efficiently among the villagers- tending injuries, righting carts, doing what needed doing. It snagged, almost against your will, on the cluster of his apprentices huddled together at the edge of the riverbed. Something about the sight pulled at an old, familiar ache.
Against your better judgment, you didn’t flinch at the feeling of his fingers brushing against yours as if reaching out to stop you but falling short, as always.
You shudder in a breath as your eyes fell shut again, breathing in deeply.
How long had you spent wanting this? Wanting him?
“Please.” His voice had lowered to a whisper.
You exhale shakily, pulling your hand from his, though you don’t leave him completely. You stay with your back turned, your face knit together in frustration.
There was so much you wanted to say to him. Everything that you thought you had made peace with was coming right back up to haunt you.
You felt his breathing brush faintly against your ear as he cautiously drifted closer to you.
As quickly as your bubble of privacy had appeared, it shattered, sending you flinching away from Qifrey as one of the younger knights flew toward you, breathless. "We've found more injured civilians."
You nodded automatically, flustered as you pushed the hair fallen onto your forehead back.
“Right.”
Your feet didn't move.
They should have.
Your first, and only, priority was your job. You had sworn to protect the pact. To be a good witch, no matter the cost.
You looked at Qifrey one last time.
So why couldn't you just do your job? What couldn’t you just walk away?
Qifrey met your gaze, almost sadly, before flying down, meeting with his apprentices.
Your eyes follow him all the way down.
You had spent years learning how to walk away from him. Why was now any different?
You watched as the pink haired girl jumped into his arms, sending his solemn face into a fond smile. You couldn’t help but mirror the expression.
There was a choice you had to make. One you thought you had made a long time ago. And yet, standing here staring at what the two of you had become, for the first time in years, you weren't sure which choice would make you a better witch.
You moved your gaze to where Easthies was waiving you down, nursing an injured unknowing.
*Please feel free to ask away, but know that I may not respond if I don't feel particularly inspired by it. First and foremost I'm here for my own enjoyment and to better my writing. That being said PLEASE ask away! I love getting inspo from you guys and it makes me feel a lot more excited to write!
Who I actively write for:
Witch Hat Atelier: Qifrey + Olruggio
Marauders: Sirius, James, Remus
Fandoms I take asks for:
Lowk just ask if I've watched it I'll prob write it.
