helping butch!qifrey to remove her binding tape after a long day ꒰ ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ
an intimate moment between you and her
cw: non-sexual physical intimacy
You hear the tiredness of your girlfriend when she comes through the door. She takes off her big cloak and leaves it hanging, the ends of her short hair are sweaty and her cheeks are red. She sighs as she sits on the edge of the bed to get rid of her shoes and socks when you appear on the bathroom door.
"Hi, love," you say, making her turn her head towards you. You crawl into the bed, hugging her from behind. She weight settles on your chest and you let her relax a moment between your arms. "I prepared us a bubble bath."
Her eyebrows raise in relief, lifting her chin so she can look at you better. "Really?" Qifrey's voice is tired but soft, blinking slowly as you nod, leaning to leave a kiss on the tip of her nose.
"Come with me." You get up from the bed, taking her hand in yours and guiding her towards the bathroom.
The only lighting are a few candles you put together and it smells like Qifrey's favorite flower inside. The bath is warm and ready, bubbles everywhere and even two glasses of good wine. You help her out of the rest of her clothes, leaving her bare except from the tapes on her chest that look a little worn out.
"I have to take them off, it's been a few days," she tells you, rubbing her arm.
"Mhm," you hum, taking her to the bathtub. "In a moment."
You undress yourself, letting Qifrey sink in the water first and adjust to the heat. She looks up at you the whole time, even tired she loves admiring your body, your soft curves and dips. Everything about you and your body makes her blush, even after years of dating. Then you get in the tub, leaning between her legs and letting her wrap her arms around you. Her chin rests on your shoulder, her breath slow and steady against your skin. The bubbles pop softly between you, filling the air with the gentle floral scent she loves so much. For a while, neither of you says anything. You just let the heat soak into her tired muscles, your fingers tracing lazy circles along her forearm under the water.
"You worked so hard today," you whisper, turning your head just enough to brush your lips against her temple. "I could tell the second you walked in."
She lets out a small, tired laugh that vibrates against your back. "It was one of those days… I kept thinking about coming home to you." Her voice is almost shy.
You smile and reach for the soft washcloth floating nearby. Dipping it in the warm water, you start at her shoulders, squeezing it so the water runs down her back in slow rivulets. She hums in quiet appreciation, leaning forward a bit to give you better access. You move the cloth gently over her skin, cleaning away the sweat and the long day, taking your time. Every stroke is careful as you talk in low murmurs between the touches.
"Remember that time we tried making those honey cakes and burned them?" you ask, smiling as you wash along her collarbone.
Qifrey chuckles softly. "How could I forget? The whole kitchen smelled like smoke for hours. You still made me eat one anyway."
"You said it was edible," you tease, pressing a light kiss to the side of her neck.
She turns her head, catching your eyes with a sleepy gaze. "It was because you made it."
The water shifts as you both move a little closer. You keep washing her, down her arms, across her chest above the tape, never rushing. She watches you the whole time, her fingers now playing with the wet strands of your hair. The candles flicker, painting soft golden light over her face and you think she has never looked more beautiful than right now, relaxed and safe with you.
After a while the water starts to cool. "Ready to get out, love?" you ask.
She nods, you help her stand first, steadying her with gentle hands on her waist. You step out together, the cool air making you both shiver for a second. Grabbing the big, fluffy towels you warmed earlier, you wrap one around her shoulders and pull her close, drying her back while she does the same for you. She giggles quietly when you pat her sides, and you grin, stealing a quick kiss on her damp shoulder.
Once you're both mostly dry, you lead her to the bedroom, the towels draped loosely around you. Qifrey sits on the edge of the bed, her posture a little self-conscious now that the warm water isn't hiding anything.
"I'll be careful," you promise, voice barely above a whisper.
She nods, trusting you completely. You take the almond oil in the nightstand, taking your time and making everything around the tape slippery with it, as well as your hands. You start at the edge of the worn tape, peeling it back slowly, inch by inch. Your fingers are warm and gentle, pausing whenever you feel her tense. Every time a strip comes free, you press a soft kiss to the reddened skin underneath, soothing it. Qifrey lets out a shaky breath, her hand finding yours and squeezing.
"You always make this feel less awful," she whispers, watching you with soft eyes.
You look up at her, smiling gently. "Because you're everything but awful to me, Qifrey."
She leans down, resting her forehead against yours as you continue the careful work, it takes you a few minutes to finish your work, now you only take off her nipple covers, soothing the skin with your warm hands.
"Would you lay down for me, please?" you ask her, now that her chest is bare.
She has beautiful creamy tits, now a little reddened because of the tape, not really big or heavy, but using the tape makes her feels better and her job easier, so you've never doubted her using it.
Now you take some lotion in your hands, making sure every part of her chest is hydrated and comfortable, you take your time and Qifrey looks at you in the eye even when you don't notice, knowing that the devotion she has for you is just like what you have for her.
a/n: i educated myself a little on this topic from this page, the idea of qifrey using it makes so much sense to me idk how to explain it. but writing more queer stories is helping me a lot and making me learn new things
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.
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