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Summary: James really shouldn't have agreed to this. He knows better. He knows exactly how many ways sneaking out for one night out in the city could go wrong. He agrees anyway because you asked, because you looked at him like that, because he's never been able to tell you no. Of course he finds you something to wear. Of course he teases you the whole time he does it. Of course his hands aren't steady when he's undoing your corset, and both of you know exactly why. One night. That's what you promised him. He's already counting the ways it won't be enough.
You could hear the hesitance dripping off of James’ voice, as if he couldn’t even believe he was indulging you.
You blinked up at him, suddenly hopeful, bobbing your head up and down.
“Just tonight, I swear.”
He bit at the inside of his cheek, scanning over your face. After a beat he looked away, sighing and shaking his head.
You groaned, exasperatedly.
“Come on Jamie,” You stepped towards him, crouching a bit in an attempt to catch his eye. “I’m cooped up in the castle all day. What’s one night out in the town going to do?”
He scoffed a laugh, “One night out in the town during the most tense week we’ve seen in years.” He caught your eye again with a stern look. “Or have you forgotten your kingdom is on the precipice of war, princess?”
You couldn’t help but bristle at his words. You hated when he called you that– princess. As if you had forgotten your own responsibilities. Of course you hadn’t forgotten. How could you when this past week has been nothing but talking to traders and citizens alike, reassuring the masses that the threat across the border was nothing to your family's fleet.
“I am the heir, James. I can’t afford to forget– I know that, but one night. Can’t I just have one night out in the town– my town. One night to forsake the guards and the war and all of it and just enjoy before our lives are flipped over.”
James’ expression softened almost guiltily before stepping closer to you. His fingers brushed lightly against yours as if contemplating taking your hand in his.
Your cheeks warmed slightly as you looked up at him. His lip was caught between his teeth, brows drawn tightly together in thought.
With the threat of war looming closer and closer, your father had already begun pulling the higher ranking castle guards back into service. You would be ignorant to pretend like you didn’t know that the possibility James too gets called back grows larger day by day.
He finally met your gaze, brows still knit in thought. The hazy glow from the quickly sinking sun cast brilliant shades of oranges and purples across his tanned face.
How long had he been your guard? Over 5 years now, surely. How you went on before him you did not know. Now, the idea of going through this war– going through life– without him by your side was impossible to imagine.
You grimaced looking away before he caught your chin between his pointer finger and thumb.
His gaze was heavy in the way it got when he was trying hard to be serious. It never really worked all that well with you, usually.
“If we go, you listen to me no matter what happens.”
You leaned into the warmth of his hand on your face before he lightly pinched your chin in an attempt to focus you again.
“I mean it, princess.”
Your face pulled tight in annoyance, “You know I hate when you call me that.” Your voice was barely over a whisper, hesitant to say anything that would change his mind.
A small smile crept onto James’ face before he bit at the inside of his cheek, schooling his expression into a more severe one. “I know, I’m sorry sweetheart.”
You huffed, looking down at your fine dress. This outfit wouldn’t do. You’d needed something far simpler if you were to blend in at town.
“I’m serious, love. If something happens– if someone attacks us–” James caught your chin again, forcing your gaze to meet his. “You run and don’t look back.”
You pulled away from his grip, “Fine.”
“Fine what?”
“I’ll leave you.”
You both knew you were lying.
James’ gaze moved down to trace the silhouette of your figure before the corner of his lip tilted upward.
“As stunning as you look, I think you might need something a little more subtle.”
You glared up at him in mock betrayal, “I thought you liked my boldness.”
His gaze darkened as he scanned you over again, leaning against the wall, “Oh I do. Which is why I would much prefer we stay within castle walls where you can be your true, bold self.”
You groaned, cutting him off as you turned to sit at the vanity.
It was a sad attempt at trying to dissuade you since he knew better than anyone how hard it was to change your mind once you were certain of something. You also had a sneaking suspicion that he hadn’t missed the way many of his peers were being sent back to the front lines. He may have known more than you.
“There should be something in the closet.” You nudge your head to the door behind him.
It would make sense. Truthfully, you didn’t even think he would agree. But if he knew he would have to leave you soon–
You shook your head, opening up your dusting powder. You wouldn’t indulge the thought.
You looked towards James in the closet through your vanity mirror at the sound of his low whistle.
You hummed, curiously. “Find anything?”
James stepped out holding a sheer, short nightgown flush to the front of his undone uniform, “where’ve you been hiding this?”
Heat flooded your cheeks as you shoved up from the chair, stepping forward to snatch the gown from his grip.
He barked out a laugh before holding his hand up high above your head.
You had never worn the dress. It was an impulse buy your friend from a neighboring kingdom had talked you into. You never would have bought it otherwise.
“Give it back James.” You snapped, placing your hand on his chest for stability as you jumped up, fingers only brushing against the bottom hem of the dress as he rose to the tips of his toes to hold the dress out of your reach.
He laughed, a tinkling sound, as his hand found purchase at your waist steadying you after every jump.
“Easy, I’ve just never seen this particular ensemble before.”
He yelped in objection as your fingers poked at his exposed ribs. His hand jerked down to shield his sides. You took the opportunity to yank the thin slip of fabric from his hand.
“Did you find anything else I could wear or were you just being nosy?”
James laughed again, stepping away from you as he straightened. “Course I did. I’d be a pretty shit bodyguard if I couldn’t find an outfit for my lovely girl, hm?”
Your stomach flipped at his words. His lovely girl. You willed the flush away from your cheeks.
“Is that part of your job description? Following the latest fashion trends?”
He looked at you from over his shoulder as he rummaged through a pile of clothes, “My job is to be whatever you want me to be.”
His voice had dropped a few octaves, adopting a husky note.
You knew he was only doing it to fluster you. Which only made it all the more annoying that it was working.
You sighed before making a show of boredly looking down at your nails. “Let’s see it then.”
He shut the door behind him before brushing past you towards the bed, a neatly placed fold of cloth in his arms.
You followed behind, stopping just short of him as he leaned over the bed, arranging whatever it was that he had picked. You considered waiting patiently until he was done but your curiosity quickly got the better of you as you leaned over his shoulder, peering at his selection.
James raised his hands to shield your view as he yelled, indignantly, “Oi, close your eyes! It’s a surprise.”
You huffed a breath before listening, fighting to keep the smile off your face.
He went back to shuffling the cloth around before the noise stopped all together. You held your breath, ear straining to catch any rustle of movement from your bodyguard. Curse him and his stealth training.
You jumped in surprise as warm hands closed around your eyes.
“Can’t have you peeking”
A shiver ran down your spine at the feeling of his warm breath dancing across the skin of your ear.
“Can’t have me peeking at my own clothes?” You snark only to rile him up.
He huffed out a laugh before pulling his hands away from your face.
You squinted, acclimating to the sudden brightness before casting your eyes downward at the clothes James had laid out.
It was surprisingly simple considering what he usually liked to see on you. Though, you supposed some subtlety was required if you were to sneak out undetected.
It was a plain peach colored dress, one you hadn’t even remembered buying. The dress had corset-like boning sewed in, eliminating the need for layers. Perhaps that was why you had bought it. You had quite the eye for innovation.
Your gaze shifted to look at James who was already focused on you, staring, observantly.
You cleared your throat, “I’ve hid some spirits in the art room behind–”
“The canvases.” James interrupted. He smiled at your shocked expression, “Don’t be too surprised, it’s my job.”
You forced your expression into neutrality, thumbing the cotton fabric of the dress.
“Will you grab it while I change?”
There was little chance he would say yes, but clearly he had a soft spot for you today because he was allowing a lot of things he usually didn't. Anyways, it never hurt to ask.
“Planning on drinking?” He questioned.
“Only if you do.”
James breathed out a laugh before you finished, “Drinking on the job? What a terrible influence you are, lovely. What would your father say?”
You picked up the dress, “Well you’re not my father’s, are you?”
His gaze darkened slightly, eyes darting down to your lips and back up so quick you weren’t even sure it happened.
“No, I’m your’s, my princess.”
You tilted your head, “And is that all I am to you?”
You pushed away from the bed towards him until you had to crane your neck to properly look up at him.
“Your princess, your job?”
He poked his tongue against the inside of his cheek, “You know that's not how I think of you.”
You could feel his breath fanning against the curve of your cheek.
“And how do you think of me, guard?” Your voice had lowered into a breathy whisper.
James’ hand came up to gently grasp the nape of your neck, “You are cruel.”
Your head cocked to the side, “Am I?”
He shook his head, pulling himself away from you as if it pained him to do so.
“Why don’t you change first and then we’ll see about the liquor.”
You couldn’t help the disappointment curdling in your stomach as you nodded, stepping away from him.
You and him weren’t anything. Well, you were something but also not. The two of you had spent the last five years in this strange limbo. Regardless, you couldn't afford to be anything. You were heir to one of the strongest kingdoms in the world. And now, you were heir of a kingdom that desperately needed an alliance. You weren’t stupid. You knew it would only be a matter of time until the marriage of necessity conversation came up.
You risked another look at him, meeting the heat of his gaze. His face was pulled tight as if pained.
You shook your head, forcing a small smile onto your face.
“Well turn around then.” You attempted to tease, praying he would pick up on your attempt at levity.
Ever attuned to you, he did, grinning as he turned around to face the wall.
You turned away from him, staring down at the dress he had selected as you walked back to the bed to place it down.
Just one night out in the city. A walk or ice cream, anything was alright so long as you were with him.
Your hand skimmed over the fabric, pressing out the wrinkles. Before bringing your hands up to just below your chest, untying the ribbon there with nimble fingers.
One last night before facing the war that was surely coming.
You peeled the heavy dress off of you, allowing it to pool at the base of your feet before you stepped out of it fully, leaving you in only your chemise.
You wanted to remember today. You wanted to treasure it and hold it close to your chest. Better yet, you wanted to capture it and put it in those little snow globes.
Your hand shifted to the back of your chemise to unfasten the bindings before your finger stilled against a knot of string.
You blinked before cursing.
How could you forget you were laced into a corset? Your eyes clenched tightly shut. Should you call your ladies maids? No, they must be getting ready for bed. Plus, what would they say about your outfit change? Why wouldn’t you be changing into your nightdress?
“Sweetheart, you alright?”
Your hands dropped to your sides as you drew your lip in between your teeth.
No, calling them would be asking for their suspicion. Anyways, you had already established that this needed subtlety.
You turned to stare at James, still faced away from you.
You needed tonight, you reminded yourself.
You stepped towards him, breath held.
Truthfully, you didn’t know why you were nervous. You had changed with him in the room several times. The two of you were close. Then again, he never undressed you.
Your face burned at the incriminating thought.
You paused, far enough that you had to lean slightly to tap his shoulder. He turned, lips parting as he slowly drunk in the image of you in nothing but a corset and a slip.
You hoped you didn’t look as flustered as you felt as you turned around, pulling your hair away from your back, “Corset.”
James didn’t move. You wondered if he was even breathing given how quiet the room had become.
Your eyes clenched shut in embarrassment, cursing up a storm in your head. You were so stupid. Why would you put yourself in this position? Honestly, it may have been better to cut yourself out of this dress as opposed to this terrible silence James had left you in.
Your fingers curled tighter into your bundle of hair, before suddenly loosening at the feeling of James hands lightly grazing your waist.
You couldn’t help the gasp that tore from you as you flinched in surprise.
Just as quickly as his hands had come, they left you entirely.
“I’m sorry I should have warned you.”
You shook your head, “No it’s okay. You just surprised me.”
The room was silent again. You held your breath, shivering in anticipation.
His fingers trailed lightly against your waist, dragging down towards your hips before curling back to the knot at the bottom of your corset.
You released a breath, forcing steadiness into your lungs.
“Are you okay?” He whispered, voice thick with something you couldn’t quite place.
You nodded, scared of what would come out of your mouth if you opened it.
He pulled lightly against a string, unfastening the bow.
You couldn’t help the sigh of relief that left you at the freedom your ribs suddenly felt from the caging press of the corset.
James laughed softly, puffs of air rustling past your hair.
Your head rolled to the side, chasing the warmth of his breath as he continued to slowly untie the corset.
You could hardly feel his movements. As opposed to your lady’s maids, he had such gentle hands. Those were the same hands he used to lay down enemies. The same hands that protected you so fervently. Though now, you felt more like you were being worshipped reverently.
The corset loosened fully. You raised your hands at James’ nudge, allowing him to pull the binding over your head.
His large hands gripped your waist, just below your ribs before he smoothed them down the length of your waist to flatten the fabric that had bunched up with his movements before pausing and pulling away, as if only just realizing what he was doing.
You risked a look at him from over your shoulder, oddly pleased to find his face tinged with pink.
He handed the corset back to you, eyes trained strictly on your face.
Your hand reached forward to take it from him, fingers brushing before you turned away from him again.
“Well turn around.” You murmured, shyly.
He was quick to oblige. Stepping with more noise than he usually did to alert you of his movements.
You slipped the chemise off your shoulders, stepping out of it as you grabbed the other dress, lacing yourself into it quickly.
The sun had fully set and the last rays of light were nearly chased away by the darkness of night. It was a good thing James had the foresight to light the candles in the room prematurely.
You smoothed your hands down your figure before turning around to face James’ back.
He had a hand scratching at the nape of his neck. His other was closed into a light fist at his side.
You cleared your throat, “I’m ready.”
James paused for a beat before turning around to take you in.
You straightened under his stare as you rotated yourself side to side to give him a full view.
He smiled, appreciatively, before looking back to your face.
“You look beautiful.”
You couldn't help but mirror his smile, basking under his praise.
He stepped towards you, holding both his palms up in a silent request for your hands.
You met him half way, clasping your hands in his.
He looked down at you, expression soft as he scanned over your face as if memorizing every line and curve.
“Promise me that nothing bad will happen.”
You couldn’t help the teasing smile that spread onto your face, “I thought that was your job.”
He laughed, looking down to your conjoined hands. “No, I mean with us.” He looked back to you, “Promise me that this war won’t change us.”
You pulled your hand from his grip, resting it against his cheek, “It won’t, I swear it.”
It was an empty promise and you knew it. As heir to a kingdom you had a lot of power, but making a promise like that was not one of them, and he knew that too.
Still, the reassurance was enough. It had to be enough.
“Just tonight?” He murmured, brushing a hair from your face.
You smiled, leaning into the warmth of his palm.
“Just tonight.”
Taglist: comment to be added to my marauders taglist!
Summary: You were only supposed to observe. Sit quietly, gather information, and leave without anyone noticing. Simple enough, except you forgot to account for the fact that Qifrey and Olruggio know exactly how you think. And now, thanks to one catastrophically backfired spell, you're not going anywhere at all.
Tags: Forced proximity, Tethered, friends to enemies to... lovers?!, Brimmed hat reader, Shared history, It's so complicated, Olruggio and Qifrey being a united front, Slow burn, Found family if you squint, ANGST ANGST ANGST, comfort tho dw!
Warnings: This part is super indulgent icl... overly sweet, Morally grey reader, Complicated loyalties
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
As much as you hated to admit it, they were right. Olruggio’s room was large– more than large enough for your work. Unless, another one of your spells decided to fail you and end catastrophically.
You grimaced before shaking away the thought.
Now was no time to doubt your abilities.
Olruggio stepped into the room, closing the door behind you. Only then, feeling his presence so close to your back, did you realise you had stopped clean in your tracks at the sight of his room.
Though, no one could blame you. The bedroom seemed to have been repurposed into a workshop. A workshop with two floors none the less.
Your eyes climbed up the stairs on the right towards the large window and open seating just short of an old desk. Your gaze wandered back down to the bottom floor, scanning. Short tables littered with books and scrolls were placed haphazardly across the length of the room. You made a mental note of their locations so as not to run into them later.
Though, you supposed that wasn’t necessary. If everything went well you would be back home by the end of the day.
Home.
The word left a strange taste in your mouth.
Qifrey stepped into your eyesight, gesturing at you.
“We’ll need that.” Qifrey spoke more to Olruggio than you.
Your brows pulled together, “Need what?” You didn’t try hard to keep the bite from your words. Qifrey had already annoyed you downstairs. He deserved every last fragment of bite you could will into your tone.
He tilted his head as if only to get a rile out of you before his eyes darted down to your collarbones. “Your necklace. The spell.”
You blinked.
Of course. What else would he have meant? Heat rose to your cheeks as you looked anywhere but at him. Your eyes settled onto the far left of the room where there hung a sliver of fabric from the ceiling.
You frowned, “Is that a hammock?"
Olruggio sighed, still behind you before he stepped forward.
You didn’t dare turn around. Standing toe to toe with the two men downstairs in the open area of the kitchen was one thing. Here, in the cosy confines of one of their bedrooms? You didn’t know how long you could maintain that steadfast annoyance here.
You willed down the shiver threatening to break as Olruggio stopped just short of you. You felt the air part slightly as his hand came up to hover over your frame before pausing.
“Your hair.”
A few loose strands of your hair danced with the exhale of his breath, fanning across the bare skin of your shoulders.
You wished you hadn’t forgotten your cardigan downstairs, but–anoyingly– Qifrey was right. It was hot.
You were so lost in your own thoughts you had forgotten Olly’s murmur. That was until Qifrey stepped forward to your side, with more courage than Olruggio, and slipped nimble fingers under the blanket of your hair.
You shivered at the feeling of his fingers skimming the sensitive nape of your neck, searching for the clasp on your necklace.
As if suddenly grasping your bearing you hissed in annoyance, stepping out of their space with a swift slap to Qifrey’s hand.
“I am perfectly capable of removing my own necklace.”
Your hands wound behind your neck to do just that. Once removed you tossed it to Qifrey who caught it with annoying ease.
“Regardless, it won’t help much.” You turned to level Olruggio with a stare, “The spell’s already been cast. It’s over now. I’ll have to write a new one to unbind us.”
He nodded, drawing his lower lip in between his teeth in thought. “So, it’s a matter of trial and error now then?”
You nodded, turning to scan the tables splayed across the room for components.
Qifrey hardly looked up from examining the necklace before he muttered something about a cabinet.
Your eyes narrowed, ready to retort before Olruggio brushed past you towards a row of cabinets on the far side of the room.
“Any preference on a pen?”
Your gaze didn’t stray from Qifrey as your hard expression softened slightly into contemplation. How had Qifrey known you were looking for components?
Qifrey looked up, feeling the heat of your gaze before sighing, shaking his head. “Don’t look so surprised. There was a time I knew you inside and out.”
There. He did it again. It was as if he knew exactly what you were thinking. Though you supposed he was right. There was a time he knew everything there was to know about you and you about him.
You fought down the look of surprise threatening to creep onto your face, instead looking towards Olruggio and shaking your head. “I can work with whatever pen you have. It makes no difference to me.”
“But you like the ones with more space near the bottom so you can shift your grip.”
You cut another sharp look towards QIfrey. How you wished he wasn’t right so you could snap something clever back at him.
Olruggio nodded, “I still have your old one.”
Your narrowed eyes widened. You stepped away from Qifrey towards Olruggio, meeting him halfway across the room before plucking the pen from his grip. It was your old one.
You couldn’t help the breathy laugh that pushed past your lips as you turned the slender wood over in your palm.
He had kept it. It was almost as if he had known.
You shook your head.
No, it was as if he had hoped you would come back. How long would he have held onto that hope you wondered.
You looked up at him to find his gaze trained intently on you– on your reaction. You blinked looking away.
“I’ll need paper aswell.”
He didn’t move, as if the question hadn't been processed yet as he stayed staring at you. After a beat he nodded, gesturing towards a table behind you.
You turned and sure enough, a pile of paper laid there ready for your use. You sat, shuffling a bit to get into a comfortable position. Your fingers closed around the metal nib of your pen, jostling it a bit as if to check if it was still secure. It was.
Your spell went wrong because you drew crescents at the end of your arrows. That made a sort of shield, reflecting that outward energy back inward. That was why instead of being launched away from one another, you had been pulled closer. That was your guess at least.
You dipped the nib into the well of ink at your side, tapping the tip against the glass before bringing the pen to the paper, hovering.
You felt Qifrey and Olruggio creep closer to you, watching your moves intently.
Your pen hovered over the paper.
To reverse the spell's effects, you only had to break the shield. A line through the crescent should do the trick.
Your brows pinched together. Your hand remained unmoved.
You had a prediction– a course of action. So why couldn’t you act on it? Why was your hand stopping just short of the paper?
A small, traitorous part of your mind laughed. Perhaps it was because you didn’t want to leave. You didn’t want to lose this short three day reprieve.
You bit down on your lip hard, as if trying to punish your subversive thoughts. No, you had made your choice long before. You couldn’t go back now. There was nothing to come back to.
Your eyes darted up meeting Qifrey’s. You wished his expression was hard with frustration or even that cold anger you knew he could wield. You wished it was anything but that soft understanding he currently wore.
You shook your head as your traitorous hands began to tremble.
Olruggio’s hand settled on your shoulder, light and tentative as if scared any push from him might make you bolt. Not that you could go very far.
“You're overthinking.” Qifrey’s voice wasn’t accusatory. You wished it was. It would have been easier to pretend you were just annoyed and felt nothing else about all of this– about them.
“I’m not.” To your credit, your voice came out a lot more steady than you felt.
Olruggio’s hand had moved to the small of your back, rubbing away the tension with small circles.
You couldn’t bring yourself to feel too embarrassed as your shoulders slowly began to unbunch.
“You always hover like that when you’re overthinking.”Qifrey pushed.
You felt a flicker of something sad snake up your chest, leaving you in the form of a sigh, “Don’t pretend to know me.”
Olruggio’s hand stuttered as Qifrey’s mouth pressed into a thin line. You instantly wished you could have taken it back, though to your relief Qifrey just shook his head, looking away.
“You always tap your pen twice when you're sure. You’ve tapped it five times now.”
Your eyes shot down to your hand, frozen just short of the ink well, prepping to tap against it again.
You closed your eyes, cursing to yourself.
“What aren’t you convinced of?” Olruggio mumbled, so softly you could have cried.
Horrified, you suddenly realized you might actually cry. Your lids pressed tightly shut, willing away the mistyness in your eyes as you breathed in a shaky breath.
“You’re scared.” Qifrey’s quiet accusation seemed to pull the last bit of air out from your lungs.
You willed your wobbling lip to still, “It I alter the wrong thing–” You cursed quietly as your voice broke off.
Neither of them commented on the tremors in your hands or the wobbling of your voice which you found yourself immensely grateful for.
You cleared your throat staring again, “If I alter the wrong thing, I don’t know what will happen.”
Your eyes fluttered open, meeting the furrowed gazes of Qifrey and Olruggio.
The former nodded, as if several puzzle pieces had just fallen into place, “You're not hesitating because you don’t know. You’re hesitating because this is the first line you’ve ever been afraid to draw.”
You gnawed at your lower lip, not missing the way his gaze fell down to trace your movements before they moved back up so quick you weren't even sure it happened.
Olruggio squeezed your hip before moving back up to rub at your back, in an attempt to steady your trembling form.
“You’re accounting for every possibility.” He hummed, thoughtfully. “What if it binds us tighter, what if it breaks something else–”
“What if it throws us farther apart?”
Your voice was so quiet you hadn’t even realized you said anything if not for Olruggio’s hand on your back stilling.
You looked up to find Qifrey’s face pinched into a pained expression, though mercifully he wasn’t looking at you. No, his gaze was trained on Olruggio to your right as they wordlessly communicated again.
Your eyes fell down to your hand still hovering over the paper. You willed it down to make a stroke on line or even a dot. Your fingers gripped your old pen in a vice-like grip. You noticed how your fingers still molded to the wood perfectly. The weight of the wand felt so familiar.
Your vision blurred with tears of frustration or fear you didn’t quite know.
A drip of ink fell from your pen onto the paper below, leaving a large, ugly blot of black.
You sucked in a breath.
Qifrey’s hand moved up to tenderly cup your face, his thumb swiping away the tear that had trailed down your cheek.
His gaze dropped down to your hand as if contemplating pulling the pen away from your grip entirely. Perhaps it was your white-knuckled grip that deterred him from acting on that.
“Im scared.” The words left you in a rushed jumble. It was a miracle that either of them could decipher it.
Olruggio pushed a strand of hair away from your face and tucked it behind your ear. You couldn’t help but chase his touch.
“I’m terrified.” You whispered, slower this time. You nodded to yourself, pursing your lips in a sad, watery smile.
“The moment I write a line…” You shook your head, frowning as you considered what it was you wanted to say. “Whatever happens next, it’s permanent.”
You wondered if they could tell you weren’t talking about the spell.
Your eyes clenched shut again, cursing yourself. This was terrible. You were terrible. You had no right to want this. To want them. After everything. After what you had chosen to become. You had no right to be on the receiving end of their comforting touches and longing looks.
You gasped in shallow breaths “I don’t know if I can do this.”
“Then don’t”
You looked up at Qifrey. You didn’t realize his hand still cupped your face despite the fact that you had nestled so far into his touch your neck was at a visible crook.
Though it wasn’t his hand still at your face that made your lower lip wobble again. It was the fact that his previously hardened face had softened into something so tender– so familiar– it ached in your chest.
His thumb swept back and forth against your cheek bone.
“What?” You breathed out.
“Don’t write it.” Olruggio affirmed from your other side. His fingers played idly with the baby hairs at the nape of your neck, sending pleasant shivers down your spine.
You looked up at him through watery lashes.
His gaze lingered at the way your brows were pinched together causing fine divots in your forehead. His eyes traced down the paths of your tears down to your trembling lip caught between your teeth.
He pulled his hand from its spot against your neck so slowly you wondered what he must have been scared of. Or perhaps he was only trying not to spook you. His hand finally stilled just short of your mouth. His knuckles rested lightly against your chin as his thumb pulled the flesh of your lip free from your teeth.
“Don’t write it.” He repeated, so simply. “Not until you're certain.”
He looked toward Qifrey who nodded, “We’ll figure something else out.”
You couldn’t help the tiny, disbelieving laugh that pushed from your lips, “You two are still impossible.”
You wished you could believe them you truly did. But nothing would change the fact that in four days the Brimmed Caps were coming, regardless of whatever declarations you were sure were dancing on the tips of Qifrey and Olruggio’s tongues.
Your gaze fell back to the paper, finally pressing the nib to the sheet before Qifrey’s hand closed around yours, halting your movements.
You blinked up at him, pleading, but he only shook his head.
“Not like this.”
It didn’t take any force from him to pull the pen from your now lax grip, placing the slender wood on the table.
“Let’s eat.” Olruggio offered, holding out his hand to you.
You stared at it.
Once, taking his hand had felt intuitive– something that required no thought at all. Now it felt like crossing an ocean.
You raised your hand before pausing, just short of his outstretched grip.
Your gaze wandered to Qifrey. The corner of his mouth had softened into the smallest smile, one that reached his eyes in a way you hadn't seen in years.
You felt your own lip curve up instinctually, mirroring his. You turned back to look at Olruggio.
You were selfish. It had been seven years and you still couldn’t leave this behind.
Your head tilted as you took in Olruggio’s face. His usually hard set lines had softened into something fond.
He hadn't moved. He simply waited.
Your fingers slipped against his, warm and familiar.
His hand closed around yours with impossible gentleness, as though he feared anything firmer might make you disappear again.
Gently, he pulled you up.
Qifrey followed suit, briefly grasping your hand to give it the faintest squeeze before leaving the pair of you to open the door.
Before the spell could tug at your waist, you found yourself taking a step after him.
Nothing had changed. The spell remained unbroken, the days still numbered. And yet, for the first time since arriving, you let yourself breathe.
Tomorrow would still come. But for tonight, you let it wait.
a/n: This was so fun to write! I think this is gonna be the last part unless I get inspired to end this in a more concrete way or I get a real specific ask or something. But I hope it provides some sense of conclusion! Hope you guys liked!!
HELLO! I hope you’re having a wonderful day but would you ever consider doing a part two for old habits die hard or an Olruggio version of dead weight? ^^ hope you have a great rest of your day
Old Habits Die Hard ✦ Pt 2
Qifrey x BrimmedHat!Reader x Olruggio
Masterlist Pt1 Pt3
Summary: You were only supposed to observe. Sit quietly, gather information, and leave without anyone noticing. Simple enough, except you forgot to account for the fact that Qifrey and Olruggio know exactly how you think. And now, thanks to one catastrophically backfired spell, you're not going anywhere at all.
Tags: Forced proximity, Tethered, friends to enemies to... lovers?!, Brimmed hat reader, Shared history, It's so complicated, Olruggio and Qifrey being a united front, Slow burn, Found family if you squint
You had four days left. Only four until the Brimmed Caps came looking for you– looking for one of their own.
You should’ve been relieved at the thought. Soon, you would be back in your little room, studying your ancient scripts and crafting until your hands were boneless with exhaustion. You should’ve been relieved at the thought that in four days you would be free of the shackles of your own backfired curse.
You bit your lip, fingers curling around the handle of your mug.
However, what would they say when they saw you with Qifrey and Olruggio? What would the Brimmed Hat’s do to them? It wasn’t as if you doubted your old friends’ skills, but how well would they fare in a fight whilst tethered to you?
“Hungry?” Qifrey hummed.
You looked towards Olruggio to find his gaze already trained on you, expectantly.
That’s right. You weren't surveying them through the darkness anymore, as your mission called for. No, you had been found and bound, and they were asking you if you were hungry.
You shook your head, “No, thanks.”
Qifrey nodded.
It had been three days. Three days of not being able to go five feet away from the pair, and while Qifrey and Olruggio weren't bound to each other, they seemed to have decided to stay close to one another, presumably to avoid tearing you clean in half.
Olruggio grunted, nudging his head to the book in front of you before leaning further over his own text.
It had also been three long days of research. Of dissecting your spell to see where you had gone wrong and reworking it. You pursed your lips.
It wasn’t usual for you to have to reverse one of your spells. In fact, this was the first time. And unfortunately, it was proving to be a bit more difficult than you were anticipating. Still, slowly you were making progress. Soon enough, you would be ready to get your components and experiment.
“With all the forbidden magic I’m sure you’ve learned, why has this proven to be so hard for you?” Qifrey mused, voice light but you knew better. You recognized the flare of impatience in his eye.
Olruggio tsked at the mention of forbidden magic, turning to scan for Qifrey’s apprentices.
You felt your chest warm at the thought of them. They were sweet and welcoming to you– save for Aggot. That girl was clever and cautious. Though, you were sure that if the other three knew your true nature they wouldn’t be so kind.
You cleared your throat as you skimmed the page, more to feign uninterest. “I didn’t study curse breaking.”
Qifrey scoffed, “How convenient.” He turned away from the countertop to face you, “What did you study?”
You registered Olruggio’s finger, skimming through the book pause, awaiting your answer– an answer you were sure he too was itching to receive these past three days.
You sighed, looking up from your book to address the two of them, “Why? Would it change anything?”
It wouldn’t. You knew it– you’d known it the second they found out you were a Brimmed Cap. You still remembered the look of horror on their faces as they saw you, hat in hand. Nothing could change that hatred, and your surety only doubled at the sight of Qifrey’s hardening expression.
“Did you learn to kill and torture.” He hummed with feigned lightness. “Or do you craft spells to turn your enemies to stone.” It wasn’t framed like a question you noticed– more like an accusation.
Olruggio shifted in his seat, leveling Qifrey with a heavy gaze as if to say we’re stuck together, don’t pick a fight now.
Qifrey rolled his eyes, letting a sharp laugh escape from his lips before turning away from you once again.
The kitchen fell into silence.
Your chest tightened at Qifrey’s accusations. You shouldn’t have been surprised. You shouldn’t have been offended. You were a Brimmed Cap. Brimmed Caps practiced body modifications and combative magic. That’s how they saw it– how they saw you.
Your face pulled together in frustration. But how could they think that? How could they even entertain the idea that you would indulge in horrors like that. You’d been with the Brimmed Cap for nearly 7 years. And yes, you learned from them– became one of them, but you hadn’t changed– not really. You knew Olruggio saw it too. You knew it confused the life out of him to see you just as you were seven years ago.
“I’m a healer.”
You shouldn't have said that. If the Brimmed Caps found out–
Your lips pressed tightly shut, cursing your own impulsive mouth. That damn mouth always acted before your brain when it came to these two.
Olruggio paused his skimming, leveling his gaze on you as Qifrey turned again.
“A healer?” Qifrey echoed.
Your hand curled into a fist before relaxing as you sighed, pushing against the table to lean back in your chair.
“Yes. I tend to the injured.”
And tend you did. How many poor souls had you set right? Witches with terribly botched spells and nasty gashes from fights? Unknowings with born disabilities or injuries from whatever it was that Unknowings did. Or the worst of them all, those with such drastic memory lapses that it had to have been from someone hastily wiping their mind.
Those were the worst– the ones with the mental injuries. Mending bones and healing skin was doable, easy even, but shifting through a mind, patching wounds you couldn't see?
You shivered, looking down to your nails.
“Healing magic then. That’s your niche?” Olruggio muttered.
You might have been imagining it, but you swore his voice had softened into something akin to sympathy, as if he could read your rapidly firing thoughts. As if he could understand what you had been through– what you had chosen.
You looked up to find Qifrey's eyes already on you with an unreadable expression before his jaw ticked, “Why would you ever do that?”
Indignation flared through your chest, “Why not? Healing craft is different-”
Olruggio scoffed, running his hands over his face.
“It is!”
“Enough.” Olruggio snapped. “Realistically, do you see this argument going anywhere?”
You crossed your arms staring at him.
He was always the mediator wasn’t he? So quick to shut down a disagreement, you noted with a twinge of annoyance.
“You’re right.” You snapped your book shut. “I think it's about time we fix this damn spell, yes?” You pushed away from the table, hopping off your chair before moving to the door, only to be stopped by the now familiar pull of magnetic attraction towards the pair. Your stomach twisted, protesting as if unable to function without their presence.
You scoffed, turning back to look at them wearing similar looks of mild discomfort.
“Outside, I need space to experiment.” You deadpanned, staring straight at Qifrey if only to finally get a rise out of him.
Quick to take the bait he crossed his arms, “Inside.”
“Outside.” You and Olruggio rallied back.
Your brows shot up in surprise, as Qifrey moved to level Olruggio with a hard look.
“Don’t look at me like that. I’m not picking her side,” He pinched in between his brows. “The girls are here. It’s better we take this outside in case...” He trailed off.
In case you decided that loyalty to the Brimmed Caps outweighed whatever remained of your loyalty to them.
You could practically feel the accusation Olruggio hadn’t voiced.
You watched as Qifrey’s brows pulled together, considering Olruggio before he huffed, moving to walk to where you were leaning against the door frame.
And just for a moment, standing there watching the two of them, you felt a pressure settle in your chest, a dull reminder of how things used to be. How natural it was to stand next to the two of them, Qifrey leading, Olruggio taking the rear and you somewhere in the middle, as if never truly knowing where you placed. Was that what pushed you to the Brimmed Caps? That feeling of never truly belonging?
Qifrey paused, staring down at you. You felt warmth pool in your stomach before you shook your head, willing the feeling away.
It wasn’t like that anymore, you told yourself. Things had changed. All three of you had changed.
He scrutinized your face, stepping closer to you as if looking for something.
You felt heat rush to your face as you shrunk away from him, suddenly acutely aware of just how close the two of you were. One wrong move, one shift to the left or right, and his skin would be flush against yours.
You held your breath as you took your lip in between your teeth, eyes darting to Olruggio who was leaned back against the table staring at the two of you with an unreadable expression.
After a beat Qifrey pulled away, shaking his head. “No.”
You let out a shaky breath as your gaze darted between the two of them.
Qifrey turned away from you to look at Olruggio, communicating wordlessly.
You felt a bitterness claw up your throat. That secret silent communication used to include you. You hated how foreign it felt.
“No?” You spat.
Qifrey shrugged looking back at you from over his shoulder, “No.”
You sputtered, pushing off the door, “What do you mean no, we have to break this spell.”
“That excited to leave, are you?” Olruggio grumbled.
You couldn't help but stare at him incredulously, “You know what they will do to you if they find me here like this– what they will do to your girls–”
“You were our girl once too, if you even remember."
You flinched hard at Qifrey’s bluntness.
You hadn’t forgotten. You remembered the days that one of you wasn’t mentioned without the other two. When you were theirs and they were yours in whatever strange relationship the three of you shared– if you could even call it that.
“We need to break the spell–”
“So you can leave.” Olruggio supplied, dully.
“Yes!” You laughed, sharply. “Because if I break this spell and get back to them within four days then I give you a fighting chance in–” You trailed off, gesturing towards Qifrey. “In whatever it is you’re planning.”
Your gaze wandered away from them and towards the stairs. "At least then, I can give you a fighting chance of protecting that child, Coco.”
You felt Qifrey still at her mention, just as you knew he would.
You cleared your throat, pushing down the emotions that threatened to bubble up. “And so we go outside.”
Qifrey contemplated your demand for a moment before he shook his head again.
He glanced toward Olruggio, something unspoken passing between them once again, so quickly it almost made your teeth ache.
Olruggio scrubbed a hand over his face before looking between the two of you with the weariness of someone already regretting whatever compromise he was about to suggest.
"It's too hot outside."
You blinked.
"...Too hot?"
"It is," Qifrey said simply.
Olruggio spared him one last questioning look. At Qifrey's barely perceptible nod, he jerked his chin toward the stairs.
"My room should be big enough."
Your brows knit together.
"Your room?"
He nodded once.
“Olly’s room already had a surplus of books and components. It only makes sense.” Qifrey added, nodding.
You stared between the two of them, dumbstruck.
Qifrey moved, walking towards the stairs before turning to stare at you expectantly, as if waiting for something he knew was coming.
Your brain caught up with your body far too slowly as you felt yourself get yanked towards him by your waist, pulled by that invisible force of the spell.
You yelped in surprise as you collided with his front, stumbling to keep from toppling. Olly’s hands gripped, your waist, steadying you.
Your face knit with surprise as you pulled away from Qifrey to stare up at Olruggio. When had he even moved? Or had he known Qifrey was planning on pulling this stunt.
The lines of surprise on your face flattened into something more aligned with bitterness.
“Upstairs it is.”
a/n: Lowkey wanted to finish this mini series in two parts but looks like theres gonna have to be one more! But hope you liked!!
Can I req Qifrey when reader gets hurts on a mission or while they’re out and things go wrong?
Dead Weight
Qifrey x reader
masterlist
Summary: Qifrey didn't want you there in the first place. He made that clear enough when he tried to leave without telling you, or rather, when he told you just enough that you'd insist on coming anyway. He should have known better. Now you were asking him to leave you behind? No, the two of you were making it out if he had anything to do about it.
Warnings: Minor injuries, magical poisoning/curse-like effects, reader gets hit with mystery spell, canon-typical violence, brimmed caps!
Author's Note: In honor of the last ep of ssn 1 dropping today I just had to cook something up for you guys! Hope yall enjoyyy-- and I hope I did your ask justiced anon!
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
Something felt off even from outside the seal’s casting range. Qifrey could feel it in the air. It wasn’t the usual low thrum of energy, it was something much heavier. Something that prickled against the skin on the nape of his neck, sending shivers down his back.
You landed softly next to him, straightening as you took in your surroundings.
Qifrey hadn’t wanted you there.
He had found a clear lead for the brimmed caps. There was a sighting of forbidden magic out in the more barren lands. He only told you about the lead to warn you in the case that he didn’t come back. After all, what would you tell the children? That wasn’t the only reason of course.
Was that why you were so insistent on coming?
You stepped away from him, head on a swivel.
“There’s something off with the air.” You sounded like you were talking more to yourself than to him.
He nodded anyway.
You were always more perceptive than he was. He supposed it wouldn't hurt to have your watchful eyes scanning over everything, lest he missed something. After all, now was no time to make oversights.
A sharp, biting wind whistled past Qifrey. He squinted to keep his eyes from watering. The door of the fence lining the run-down house swung haphazardly, clanking against the metal bonding of the railing.
“The seal must be in the house.” Qifrey projected, to get through the wind to you. “I don’t feel any notable effects from this distance.”
You leaned down, examining the base of the fenced perimeter. He watched as you ghosted your hand over the peeling wood before looking back to the house.
He had no idea what he would find in that house. If he was lucky, he would run into a few Brimmed caps, overly sure of their own ability.
He ground his teeth together at the thought, fingers tightening around his components.
“This fence has no seals engraved” You pushed up off the ground, dusting off your robes before shooting Qifrey a look from over your shoulder. “Just a normal fence.”
Qifrey shook his head, looking past you, “Oh, it’s there.”
You sighed, hanging your head for a moment before turning to push through the open door of the fence.
You were also a great deal more sensible than him, Qifrey thought fondly. You had insisted on asking for help, perhaps waiting for Olruggio to return from his trip, but the less people who knew, the better.
“You go first I’ll take the rear?” You had spoken softly, but your voice carried through the wind.
Qifrey hummed in response, brushing past your standing figure down the path to the house.
There were stepping stones lined in a winding path. Stubborn weeds and vines pushed through the gaps and crevices, pushing a few of the stones up slightly.
Perhaps there were seals under them? Though, he doubted it. If the house was secured by seals then why wouldn’t the fence have them? Qifrey looked back at you to see whether you were paying the stones any mind.
His shoulders only untensed at the sight of your eyes roaming high above where his were. He pulled his attention back to the house in front of him, stopping just short of the large wooden door.
You were strong, there was no doubt about it. But still, you were never too keen on familiarizing yourself with more violent spells– spells that Qifrey had seen first hand which only made more sense as to why he should lead most of the investigation.
He paused, hand suspended just short of the brass doorknob before turning around to face you.
“When we find it, I’ll study the seal, I don’t want you to get caught in any crossfires.”
You returned his gaze, dubiously. “I’m fine I can–”
Qifrey shook his head, grabbing your hands in his. “I know you can– of course you can.” He opened his mouth before shutting it again
“You can. Just let me?”
A personal attack he could manage. He could deal with being beaten and alone. Except he wasn’t alone now. You were here, and he couldn’t imagine what he would do in that case.
You frowned up at him before looking down at your hands held in his larger ones.
“Yeah, sure.”
Qifrey released a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding.
“Thank you." He breathed out, only turning at the sight of your resigned smile.
The house was dark. Shadows stretched and distorted as Qifrey pushed open the door. He registered your footsteps creaking against the worn wooden floor behind him.
The energy from earlier was stronger now. It pushed against his chest, willing him to turn on his heels then and there, grabbing your hand and striding out the rickety house.
You paused, staring up at the ceiling, “How is this place still standing?”
Qifrey didn’t bother following your gaze, instead he was focused on a door at the very end of the hallway.
“Does something feel off about that door?” He breathed, his voice just barely audible, but you heard it. Of course you heard it.
You stepped forward until you were at Qifrey’s side, scrutinizing the door for a few seconds before looking up at Qifrey.
“No, but trust your gut.”
Qifrey pursed his lips, before sliding his right hand into his robe to close against his pen. “Watch my back.”
You nodded, “Always.”
The door swung inward with a groan that seemed to come from the walls themselves. The air that spilled out was stale and heavy, carrying the particular stillness of a space that had been sealed off for too long. Underneath it, there was something else– something that made the hair on his arms stand up.
Qifrey saw it immediately. Sprawling across the far wall in ink so dark it seemed to absorb the light around it. Large, elaborate, and still active, if the faint luminescence bleeding from its edges was any indication.
He was moving before he'd made the conscious decision to, crossing the room in measured steps until he crouched before the seal.
His pen was already in his hand. He couldn't have told you when he'd reached for it.
Behind him he heard the soft, careful placement of your footsteps as you began your own thorough circuit of the room.
His eyes moved across the seal in slow, methodical sweeps. The linework was precise– uncomfortably so. Whoever had drawn this hadn't been in a hurry. They had taken their time, which meant they hadn't expected to be interrupted. So either they didn't know about Qifrey's lead, or they did and weren't concerned.
Neither option was particularly comforting.
“Anything?" He murmured, not looking up.
“It–” Your voice trailed off, presumably focused on something before you started again.
“It doesn’t make sense.”
Qifrey frowned, eyes never leaving the seal on the floor, "What doesn’t”
He registered you moving towards another corner of the room, surveying everything from each and every fold in the wallpaper to all the trinkets littering the floors.
“The strange energy from before.” You paused again, stepping closer towards him, though your voice was still muffled as if you weren’t facing him.
“It’s not coming from your side of the room.”
Qifrey's gaze followed the sweeping curve of the seal in front of him. He traced the linework again. Then again. His frown deepened.
You were right. The seal was elaborate, yes– precise, yes– but the construction was wrong. Not wrong in the way of a flawed seal– wrong in the way of a deliberate misdirection. Strip away the elaborate flourishes, the unnecessary complexity layered over the top, and what remained underneath was simple. Benign, even. A preservation seal, maybe. Something you would find in a pantry or a storage room.
Someone had dressed it up to look dangerous. To look like the thing worth paying attention to.
His stomach dropped.
This wasn't a weapon. This wasn't even close to what had been making the air feel the way it did outside.
Which meant it wasn't the source.
Which meant the source was somewhere else in this room.
He never finished the thought.
The force of you hit him square in the shoulder, sending him stumbling sideways as you threw yourself between him and the wall behind him. The seal flared– one brilliant, blinding pulse of light, and then went dark. Spent and silent.
For a moment Qifrey couldn't move. The light died as quickly as it had come, leaving the room dim and still, and Qifrey stood there blinking the spots from his vision, trying to locate you before his eyes had fully adjusted.
"Hey–" His voice came out wrong. Too high, too fast, stripped entirely of the composure he prided himself on.
You were still standing. That was the first thing he registered. The second was the way you were standing– too carefully, one hand braced against the wall. Your face was pulled tight as if caught between fear and pain.
He was at your side before the thought had fully formed. His hands were already on you, scanning, searching, before he even knew what he was looking for.
"Where." It wasn't a question. It barely came out as a word.
You moved to shake your head before you froze, fingers curling around Qifrey’s collar, willing him still as you craned your ears.
Qifrey’s hands moved to cup your face, “Y/n.”
“There’s someone else here.” You breathed, voice unusually shaky.
A distant thud sounded from beyond the door, followed by a distinct scrambling.
Qifrey cursed under his breath before grabbing your shoulder to pull you forward. Though, before he could get you moving from your dazed state, your legs buckled, folding beneath you without warning. He caught you on the way down, barely– one arm wrapping around your waist, taking your weight before you hit the floor.
"I'm fine." You whispered it before he could ask. Your hands trembled slightly against his chest. You were leaning into him more than you likely realized.
"You're slurring." He said it quietly, without accusation.
"I'm not." You were, slightly. The edges of your words were softer than usual, running together at the ends. You blinked hard as if trying to clear something from your vision. "It's just– I just need a second."
He didn't have a second to give you. The sounds beyond the door had settled into something worse than scrambling– deliberate footsteps, measured, unhurried. Whoever was out there wasn't panicking. They knew the house.
Qifrey exhaled slowly through his nose, forcing his thoughts into order. He could not afford to fall apart right now. He would fall apart later, when you were somewhere safe and he had the privacy for it.
"Your pocketbook." He said it as a prompt, already moving to support more of your weight as he guided you towards the wall.
You nodded, reaching for it with more confidence than your hands could back up. He watched your fingers close around your pen and then watched it slip, hitting the floor with a small, final sound that seemed far too loud for the quiet of the room.
You stared at it.
He had seen you afraid before– not often, you were careful about that– but the expression that crossed your face in that moment wasn't fear of the brimmed caps or the house or whatever the seal had done to the air outside. No, you were staring down, terrified at the violent shaking of your hands. You were watching your body betray you.
"I've got it." He said before you could spiral, crouching to retrieve the pen and pressing it gently back into your hands before moving to draw the barricade seal himself. "Just breathe."
He kept his voice even in the same voice he used with the girls when things went wrong and he needed them not to panic. He drew quickly, precisely, the lines coming more from muscle memory than conscious thought because most of his attention was on you. On the sound of your breathing, on whether you were still upright.
You were. Barely.
He finished the seal and stood, turning to find you at the window. He hadn't heard you move. He didn't know how you'd managed it. You were bracing both palms flat against the wall beside the frame, your weight distributed between your hands and the windowsill, your legs doing the absolute minimum required to keep you vertical.
He moved to place the seal against the door, not staying to watch the door barricade itself. Instead, he crossed the room toward you.
Outside, through the grimy glass, he could see you had already begun counting. Your lips moved faintly.
"Four." You murmured as he reached your side. "Maybe five. They've spread out since we came in. They must have been waiting until we went into the house" A pause. “How did we miss them?” Your eyes tracked something to the left. "There's a gap on the far side– the east edge of the property. I clocked it when we first came through. They haven't covered it yet."
He looked. You were right. It was narrow and it wouldn't stay open long, but it was there.
"How long do we have?" He asked, keeping his voice low.
You were quiet for a moment, watching. "Not long."
He nodded once, turning back to the room, already calculating. The sheet on the narrow bed in the corner. The window latch. The angle of approach to the east edge that would keep them furthest from–
"You have to go."
He turned back to you.
You weren't looking at him. Your eyes were still fixed on the window, jaw set, the way it got when you had already made a decision and were bracing for the argument that came with it.
"Without me." You added, when he said nothing.
"No." He said it simply, turning back to the room.
"Qifrey." Your voice had reduced itself to something akin to a beg. The tone of someone stressing their words because they only had enough energy for one attempt. "Look at me."
He looked, his face pinched in frustration.
You had pushed yourself upright from the wall, which had clearly cost you something. You were standing on your own but only just, your weight shifted forward onto the balls of your feet as if you didn't quite trust your heels to hold. Your hands hung at your sides, slightly curled, as you willed them to not shake.
"You can make it through that gap." You said it quietly, evenly, the steadiness in your voice doing almost nothing to disguise how much effort it was taking to maintain. "You don’t know this terrain as well as they do. You're faster alone. Come back for me when you've got distance."
"No." He said it the same way he'd said it the first time. He was pulling the sheet from the bed now, shaking it out.
"I'm dead weight." The words came out flatter than you probably intended, stripped of the self pity that might have softened them. "You can see it. I can see it. Standing up right now is taking everything I have and we both know it. If you take me through that gap you are halving your chances."
He didn't answer. He was already reaching for his pen.
"Qifrey." Your voice cracked slightly on the second syllable. "I need you to be rational about this."
He stopped.
The pen was in his hand. The sheet was in his hand. He stood with his back to you for one long moment, and the sound of your shallow breathing, carefully controlled, filled the space between you.
When he turned around his expression was something you had never quite seen on him before. Not anger exactly. Something underneath anger.
"I cannot." His voice came out very quiet. "I will not leave you in this house." A beat. "Don't ask me to do that again."
You opened your mouth.
"Don't." He said it softly, which was worse than if he'd said it sharply. "Please."
You looked at him for a long moment, really looked, and whatever you found there seemed to take the argument out of you entirely. Your shoulders dropped. Something in your face went very still.
You didn't say anything. You just stopped fighting him.
He was at your side before you finished sinking, one arm catching you around the waist as your back met the wall on the way down. He lowered you the rest of the way carefully, one hand bracing the back of your head.
You were lighter than he remembered. Or perhaps he just hadn't been paying attention before.
"I'm sorry." He said it quietly, without preamble, his voice rough. "For raising my voice."
You made a small sound that might have been a dismissal or might have been an acknowledgment, he didn’t quite know. Your eyes were open but the focus in them came and went, like a candle in a draft.
"Stay with me." He said it more to himself than to you. Then, louder, deliberate, "I need you to stay with me. Can you do that?"
You granted him the faintest nod.
He gave himself three seconds. Three seconds to look at you. The sheen of sweat on your face and the way your hands had gone still in your lap and the slight unevenness of your breathing. He gave himself three seconds to feel the full weight of what was happening. Three seconds to be terrified.
Then he stood up, left your side, and got to work.
He spread the sheet across the floor, pen already moving before the fabric had fully settled, drawing the concealment seal in long, careful strokes. His handwriting was steadier than it had any right to be. He had learned a long time ago to make his hands do what was needed regardless of what the rest of him was doing.
He worked quickly. The lines had to be precise. A concealment seal drawn in haste was worse than no seal at all, it would only draw attention to the distortion, but his hands knew this particular construction by heart. He'd drawn it more times than he could count.
He finished the last stroke and looked up.
You were watching him. Your head had fallen back against the wall and your eyes were half lidded but they were on him, tracking the movement of his pen with an expression he couldn't quite read.
"Almost done." He said it quietly.
"I know." Your voice was barely above a murmur now. "You always were fast."
He didn't trust himself to respond to that.
In a quick moment he strode back to your side, gathering you up from the floor as carefully as he could manage, one arm beneath your knees and one behind your back, and you went without protest which told him more than anything else how far you had declined. You tucked your face against his shoulder almost automatically, your hands loosely fisted in the front of his robes.
He wrapped the sheet around you both, pulling it close until the seal's effect settled.
He was going to get you out. That much he had decided long before you had even known about this particular mission. However, this was never supposed to happen. This spell- whatever it was doing to you, he didn’t know how to fix it.
He shook his head. There was no time to think of that now.
"East side." He murmured into your hair. "Talk me through it."
A long pause. He thought for a moment you might have gone under entirely. Then, "Straight from the back door. There's a broken section of fencing about thirty paces out. Low enough to step over. Don't angle left, there was one posted near the old well."
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Okay guys, SO im feeling SUPER inspired by season three of Interview with the Vampire and I had the brilliant idea of Qifrey/Olruggio in a vampire au...👀 Would you guys read it or fadeeee
Can you maybe write hurt/comfort Sirius or Remus (or both 😛) x fem reader who has food poisoning but is trying to hide it, or maybe people around her ignore it? I’m trying to make my own self feel better I just threw up 😭 <333 love your work!
Just what you wanted
Poly!Wolfstar x sick!Reader
Warning: Food poisoning, fever, throw up, aversion to food, petnames, reader described as having hair that can be held back, tooth-rotting fluff, not edited...
Author's Note: Hi Hi anon!! Awee im so sorry to here that :( Food poisoning is no joke and throwing up sucks. I get car sick ALL the time and just loath being nauseaous :/ I made this one super indulgent so I hope it helps a little bit! And you're the sweetest thank you so much <3 !!
You bit down at your lip, fighting back the whimper that threatening to break. It really wasn’t that bad. It was just a little pull at your stomach, really. Now that you thought about it, it must have been the pasta you had made in the morning. How old was that heavy whipping cream? It didn’t smell all that bad.
You pursed your lips at the flooding of saliva in your mouth at the thought of food, a tell-tale precursor of being sick. The feeling was only exacerbated by Sirius coming into the living room with his platter of food.
“Remus is finally done with the potatoes and I–” He trailed off, pausing in front of where you were seated at the couch to comically scan over the food in his hands. “am ready to eat.”
You roll your eyes, though not truly annoyed. How could you be when Sirius looked so excited? Plus, it was all you could do to not look down to face the food yourself. There was little chance you would be able to push down the bile clawing up your throat then.
“Looks good.” You hummed, pulling your knees into your chest to make room for Sirius to put the food down in front of you.
Ordinarily, you would probably be salivating in a good way at the sight of Remus' latest culinary endeavor. There was a reason you usually left the cooking to him. But it was just that he was so busy recently and honestly you didn’t trust Sirius anywhere near a flame.
Sirius shivered in excitement, reaching his hand out to grab a slice of garlic bread before freezing at Remus’ yell from the kitchen.
“Sirius, don’t start without me.”
You stifled a laugh at Sirius’ quiet groan before he straightened up, pulling back his arm.
“I would never.” Sirius started, turning to look at where Remus walked in, donning two colorful oven mitts. “Frankly, I’m offended you would ever suggest that.”
Remus’ face pinched in mock understanding before his expression softened onto you.
“Ready to eat, lovely?”
You felt yourself melt a little deeper into the couch under the saccharine sweetness of his stare.
“I know I am.” Sirius hummed, planting a kiss onto Remus’ cheek before plopping down next to you, reaching across your legs for the remote. “What are we watching tonight?”
You shrug idly, moving closer into Sirius' side almost instinctively.
Truthfully, there was nothing you wanted more than to just tell them. Tell them that you had brushed off the expiration date, given the bottle a good shake, and mixed it into your pasta. Tell them that your stomach had progressively spiralled into a restless churning, threatening to bubble up and expose you right there in the living room. You craved their doting and overly indulgent sweet nothings. You wanted to feel their hands rubbing soothing circles into your back and hip.
“Lovely, Are you alright?”
You couldn’t help but jump at Sirus’ sudden question.
“Hm? Yeah–” You couldn’t help the shiver that ran through you. What had Sirius asked? Why were they still looking at you? “Yeah I’m fine.”
Sirius cocked his head to the side, setting his plate down so he could better face you.
“Remus asked you a question, did you not hear?” He moved your hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear before hissing at the heat radiating from your forehead.
“Sweetheart, you’re burning up.”
You faintly registered Remus moving to your other side, placing the back of his palm against your forehead and tsking in what you assumed was agreement.
Were you hot? You didn’t feel hot. You actually felt quite cold. Cold, clammy, and so nauseous.
You winced, hands coming to clutch your stomach before screwing your eyes tightly shut. Remus caught your shoulders before you could curl into a complete ball.
“Hey, hey, hey what’s wrong?” Sirius cooed, placing his warm palm onto the bare skin above your knee.
You couldn’t help the low whine that escaped you as you leaned into Sirius’ warm hold.
Why had you used the stupid cream? Moreover, why had the cream still been in the fridge? It was hardly even your fault. If the cream expired a week ago then it should have been thrown out then, no matter if no one used it then or they didn’t know.
You felt Remus pull your cascading hair away from your face into a low bun held in his big palm at the base of your neck. He blew slowly onto the skin of your neck as Sirius cooed, still rubbing at your thigh.
Through the objection from your stomach you could still recognize how unfair you were being, not that you particularly cared. You had gone the whole day suffering silently. It wasn’t like you were looking for attention or anything. You just thought you would be able to sit calmly through dinner, politely denying any offers of food.
You cursed at your stomach, suddenly feeling entirely too crowded.
You pushed up off the couch with a surprising surge of energy, blinking away the black dots dancing before your vision. Your hair fell from Remus’ hold, shifting for a second from the force of your movements.
It would have been a lot smarter if you had tied it back in preparation, you think, retrospectively. Honestly, this was bound to happen.
You vaguely registered Remus’ and Sirius’ concerned exclaims of surprise as you pushed past Remus’ legs, making a beeline for the bathroom.
You bring your hand up to roughly push your sweat slick hair away from your face before practically collapsing into the ajar door, diving for the toilet bowl just before the contents of your stomach begin to empty themselves.
You squeezed your eyes shut through the worst of it, knuckles white against the porcelain. In that moment you made a mental note, distantly and with great feeling, to never touch heavy whipping cream again.
Your sick had been more water than anything which was unsurprising given your complete lack of appetite. You breathed in shakily as the worst of the cramp passed over, granting yourself temporary reprieve from your usual hygienic care as you threw your arm over the toilet bowl, slumping exhaustedly.
You really hated throwing up. That’s why you had avoided it all day.
You pulled your head out of the toilet bowl slightly as you pulled down blindly at where the flush was.
Remus cooed, sympathetically as he moved to once again pull your hair back. You felt the pressure from your weight on your knees relieve itself as Remus pulled you to rest against his sturdy frame.
The sudden sound of running water filled the bathroom, providing you with a welcome distraction.
You hadn’t ever realized when they had walked in. Was it when the toilet flushed, you wondered absently.
You cracked open your eyes, peeking to look at Sirius wringing out a wash cloth, presumably for your fever.
“Don’t need it.” You hum, with a lot less conviction than you had hoped to muster. It was true though. You already felt loads better after throwing up. Now it was just a heavy blanket of exhaustion weighing you down.
You felt Remus sigh next to you as he repositioned himself against the marble of the bathroom wall. His hand snaked around your waist before pausing and moving up to your chest, seemingly nervous of making you sick again. As gently as he could manage, Remus pulled your back flush to his chest.
“I know you don’t need it, lovely.” Sirius looked at you with such softness you had to close your eyes to avoid crying, “but humor me?”
You hummed, temporarily appeased at his attempt to make it seem less of a burden and more like something they wanted to do.
You felt your eyes well up behind your lids at the thought. They were so hungry moments ago. You should have just told them you were tired or not hungry. Why did you have to go down and join them? Why did you want their comfort so badly?
You jumped at the feeling of the cool cloth against your forehead. Remus rubbed his thumb lightly against your ribs, comfortingly.
“How long have you felt sick sweetheart?” Remus whispered, keeping his voice low so as to not overwhelm you.
You knew there was no accusation in his voice but you couldn’t help but curl inward in embarrassment. You let your head fall back onto Remus’ shoulder as Sirius continued his gentle swiping.
Would it be better to lie? You roll your eyes internally at yourself. What use was lying now? You had already gone and thrown up in front of them.
The pads of Sirius’ fingers pushed into your cheek as he tapped for your attention.
“Don’t nod out on us just yet, love.”
You groaned, tucking your head into the crook of Remus’ neck.
“I’m fine. I think I just ate something bad this morning.”
Remus angled his head, allowing you to bury deeper into him.
Sirius tutted, “Was it the pasta in the trash? I was wondering why you had thrown out so much.”
Your face pinched in a mix of frustration and self-pity. You were suddenly very grateful for the cover Remus’ neck provided you with.
“You should have told us.” Remus murmured, squeezing your hip.
You nodded, not feeling particularly motivated to argue.
Sirius pulled your face out from Remus' neck with a firm but tender grip on your chin. “Are you feeling up for bed or do you think you're gonna be sick again?” His hand moved up to smooth out the divot between your brows.
You let your head fall to Remus' chest, “‘M okay.”
Both Sirius and Remus laughed at your sleepy admission. You frowned, trying to recall what you had said that was so funny.
“Lovely, that’s not what he asked.” Remus mused, resuming his circles on your rib.
You pouted, a little childishly, as you reached down for Sirius’ hand, placing it against your cheek before you shook your head, “I mean I’m not going to be sick. We should go back to dinner.”
Sirius made a noise that was almost a laugh, exchanging a look with Remus over your head that you were too tired to try and decode.
You felt Remus’ hold tighten around you slightly, though he really didn’t need to. You had no plans of moving off the floor anytime soon.
Sirius and Remus had begun talking over you in hushed tones. Or were they hushed? You couldn’t really tell. You caught fragments– Remus saying something low, Sirius' quiet response– but the words slipped away before you could hold onto them.
All you knew was that your eyes were slowly shutting of their own accord, sufficiently worn out.
The thought that you should probably say something lingered uselessly at the back of your mind. It was just that your eyelids were so very heavy.
Perhaps you would just close them for a moment. Just to rest for a second, you reasoned, blissfully ignorant to the familiar pull of sleep.
You pressed your cheek further into Sirius' palm which was sandwiched between your face and Remus’ chest. His thumb passed softly over your cheekbone and you sighed contentedly, sinking further into Remus’ hold.
In your opinion, dinner was still a perfectly reasonable suggestion. Though, you supposed blissfully, this was exactly what you had wanted.
Taglist: My usual taglist is for WHA fics lmk if you want to be on my marauders taglist!
*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.
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
masterlist
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!
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
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.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Summary: You were only supposed to observe. Sit quietly, gather information, and leave without anyone noticing. Simple enough, except you forgot to account for the fact that Qifrey and Olruggio know exactly how you think. And now, thanks to one catastrophically backfired spell, you're not going anywhere at all.
Tags: Forced proximity, Tethered, friends to enemies to lovers?!, Brimmed hat reader, Shared history, It's so complicated, Olruggio and Qifrey being a united front, She's trying so hard to stay guarded, Slow burn, Found family if you squint
Warnings: Action scene, Minor injuries, Morally grey reader, Complicated loyalties
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
You slid, ducking to avoid the onslaught of spells hurling towards you, courtesy of Qifrey. As annoying as his relentless pursuit of you was, you couldn’t deny that he was good. Scarily good, in fact. His sheer knowledge of magic theory allowed him to keep up with you even though he wasn’t utilizing any forbidden magic.
You winced at the burn of a scrape against your leg.
Olruggio had momentarily disappeared again. Though this time you expected it. Their pattern was simple yet effective. Qifrey aimed to overwhelm and draw all focus to him. In the gaps in your concentration, Olruggio swung in with a powerful blow, trying to catch you off guard. It had nearly worked.
Your eyes widened at the recognition of Qifrey’s pattern wavering, a sure indication of Olruggio’s pending attack, except it never came.
You flew back, angling your sylph shoes, thrown at the sight of Qifrey suddenly much closer to you than before. You cursed, hand clutching your pen ready to draw furiously before Olruggio barreled into you from behind.
Your sylph shoes disconnected from each other, sending you and Olruggio free-falling towards the ground. He gripped his hand against your shoulder, thumb biting into your collarbone, trying– and failing– to wrangle you into a still position.
“Stop resisting” He growled into your ear.
You thrashed, bringing your knee up to push against his stomach in an attempt to release his hands from your frame.
How bothersome. You were only supposed to bring intel for the Brimmed Caps. You really weren’t a combative witch. You hated going on missions that could warrant talking to people, forget getting into a fight with them.
You yelled in frustration as Olruggio brought you into a crushing hug, trapping you beneath his muscled arms. You squinted trying to see through the spinning of your quick downward spiral.
That’s why you had liked this mission in the first place. It was quiet and easy. Just sit and observe the comings and goings of Qifrey’s Atelier, unnoticed. How hard could that be? Plus, you were extra qualified for the job given you knew Qifrey and Olruggio quite well considering how close you were back when the three of you were apprentices at the Great Hall. You knew how they worked, how they thought. So how had this gone so terribly wrong?
You yelped in pain as Qifrey collided hard into the pair of you, crushing you as he attempted to slow your quick descent while holding onto you with a vise-like grip. You groaned, trying to push away from Olruggio’s rough embrace onto to feel your back push against Qifrey’s unmoving front. You were sandwiched.
You really weren’t a combat witch. They only sent you because you knew Qifrey and Olruggio better than the other Brimmed Hats. You truly knew them. And they knew you. That’s how they had trapped you so quickly. Afterall, you were only really good at crafting spells and what good was that talent in a fight?
You couldn’t help but smirk, bitterly to yourself.
What they hadn’t realized was that your crafting had come quite far in your years apart.
You shut your eyes, relaxing into their crushing hold.
There was a spell you were quite eager to try. Why not try it now?
You slowly wriggled your hand up to grasp your necklace– your last chance.
It was a repellent spell. It was simple really. So simple you were rather shocked no one else had thought it up. When activated, whomever or whatever was in direct contact with the user would be propelled far away. As if they were two positive poles on a magnet, theoretically.
You grimaced, hands hesitating against the cool metal of your necklace.
Theoretically, it would launch them away. Had you tried it yet? Not really. But the spell was self explanatory, and you had yet to craft a spell wrong, and really did you have another choice?
You steeled your nerves, fingers moving to rotate the wheel of the necklace, connecting the spell.
At first nothing changed.
You unfurrowed your brows, biting your lip in confusion, wrapped between the two men, hurdling to the ground, before a sudden burst of brilliant light blinded you.
You felt their grips loosen slightly before leaving you entirely at the feeling of searing heat at the spots their hands just were.
You couldn’t help the scream of pain that left you at the blistering heat.
Though you supposed you should be glad that it at least worked. Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to be too pleased. Why had it burned so horribly? That didn’t make sense. Something must have been off. But, at least, you were no longer being trapped between two broad chests anymore.
As quickly as the hands on you were gone, Qifrey crashed back into you, bracing his arms beneath the crook of your knee and the small of your back as he slammed his Sylph shoes together slowing the pair of you down just short of hitting the ground hard.
He groaned in a mix of relief and frustration before letting you push out from his grip.
You turned away from him quickly only to be met by Olruggio rubbing his forearms with a pained expression, presumably from the effects of your spell.
You paused, brows furrowed in thought.
So they had felt the heat too? But if that were true then they would have gained the same you did from the spell. So why weren’t you launched away from them? Or perhaps the effects nullified?
“What was that?” Qifrey rasped, rubbing at his sternum. He stood hunched over as if his body were begging him to collapse but his mind refused to let you go.
You dully registered Oruggio's determined stomp towards your direction before you instinctively stumbled back, still reeling from the effects of your ineffective spell.
He paused as if reevaluating whether getting into another chase with you was a smart idea, or something he would be able to even keep up with. You were always annoyingly good at running away from them.
Not giving him the liberty of deciding, you turned on your heel, breaking into a sprint away from where the three of you had crashed.
That blasted necklace. What a terribly crafted spell, you cursed yourself.
You risked a look over your shoulder, more to reassure yourself that you could get away. Yet, instead of them chasing quickly at your heels you watched as they stood unmoving, right where you had left them.
You scoffed.
You must have tired them out.
That was a step up, you supposed. Back in your training days they used to run circles around you when it came to sparring. Though that hadn’t necessarily changed. You had just found ways to adapt.
You felt it before it happened. A sort of pull in the wrong direction, as if you were being repelled by some force– like the ink of a spell was fighting back.
You made it maybe ten steps before the air solidified against you, hard. It wasn’t a wall exactly, more like the wrong end of a magnet.
You yelped in surprise, bracing yourself as you fell backwards.
Still, the pull didn’t go away. You winced, rubbing your chest in attempts to dispel the magnetic-like yank before your body started to move, dragging back towards where Qifrey and Olruggio were still standing.
You scrambled into a sitting position, digging your heels and palms into the soil in a desperate attempt to stop the force dragging you back to them to no avail. You sped up faster and faster before colliding into Olruggio’s, now crouched, form.
He grunted at the force of the impact winding one arm around your waist and bringing the other to catch himself.
You feel a shiver run through you at the feeling of his strong forearm pinning you tight to him. Your own hands moved to rest against his arm as if to pull it away, but for some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.
You look up, squinting through the sun to stare at Qifrey, hovering over you. There were deep lines of stress in his face, present even as a child but more pronounced now. The once light and airy smile he once reserved for you was now a hard set line.
You groan, more in annoyance as you collapse back into Olruggio’s front, huffing.
Of course, the one time you want to try a new spell it just has to backfire entirely.
“What’s going on?” Olruggio rumbled, sending pleasant shockwaves through you at the feeling of his hum hitting your back.
Your gaze remained trained on Qifrey. How long would it take him to figure it out, you wonder. He was always clever when it came to deciphering the way you thought.
“This is one of your spells isn't it?” He ventured to guess, nudging his head towards the invisible wall you had hit.
You sighed, dusting off your clothes, more so that you had something to do rather than just sit, trapped between Olruggio’s hold and Qifrey’s stare.
“Yeah.” You offered, lamely.
The three of you plunged into a heavy silence, disturbed only by the rustle of your movements.
Unfortunately, it was one of your spells. Honestly it was quite impressive. You had never crafted a spell that backfired so horribly that it did the exact opposite of what it was intended to do.
Qifrey crouched down to your level, though he wasn’t looking at you, but rather your necklace. You couldn’t help but hold your breath as he moved to grab the cool metal with delicate fingers, grazing them against the flesh of your neck.
He scrutinized the spell, leaning forward in his own focus until his face was mere inches from yours.
You flushed, squirming in Olruggio’s hold.
“Olly, you can let me go, you know.” You gritted, angling your head back in attempts to catch Olruggio’s eyes.
“And risk you running again? No thanks.” He deadpanned, not unkindly.
You oddly found yourself glad at that fact before shaking your head, cursing at yourself. You had left them. They weren’t your people anymore. They shouldn’t be kind and you shouldn’t crave their kindness.
“You can let her go. She won’t run– she can’t.” Qifrey concluded, dropping the necklace, allowing it to thump back against your chest, though he didn’t move back.
“Your spell was quite wrong.”
Olruggio loosened his grip, but also chose not to move.
You huffed, rolling your eyes as you stretched your neck, relieving it from its soreness.
“Really?” You offered, uninterested.
You couldn’t help but bask in the comfort of their presence. You should be repulsed or even alarmed by how close they were, but all you felt was familiarity. A dull ache of remembrance at how life used to be.
“Next time you should use a sort of binding spell on yourself. Something that would make you temporarily impossible to hold onto.” Qifrey continued, ever the critique.
You felt a brow quirk up in amusement, “I thought you were against forbidden magic?”
“I am.” He corrected, voice suddenly sharp. “But that never seemed to stop you before.”
You couldn't help but wince at his sudden tone switch.
You had always found yourself rendered useless in anxiety when Qifrey would switch to the meaner version of him, threatening and erasing memories. Though usually, it was never aimed at you.
“Can someone explain what the hell is going on?” Olruggio grumbled.
You looked towards Qifrey, almost instinctively, to find his gaze already focused on you.
You sighed, turning to better face both of them.
“I wrote a new spell. One that would repel whomever was touching me. But, it backfired and instead I’m bonded to them.”
Olruggio stared at you blankly before moving his gaze to Qifrey as it to verify what you were saying.
You rolled your eyes, “I’m not lying.”
“Well, it’s not like you haven’t lied to us before.” Olruggio bit back without missing a beat.
You bit your tongue, looking down to your nails.
They weren’t wrong. You had lied. You had abandoned them. You had switched sides.
“So what then?”
You look up at the sound of Qifrey’s question.
“How long does it last?”
You furrowed your brows, wracking your brain for some answer you could give them.
You hated this. You hated not knowing something that you were supposed to be a master at. What could you possibly tell them? That you didn’t know? That you had acted rashly just as you always had? You were supposed to be changed– better. That’s why you were with the brimmed hats, afterall. What would they think when they realized you had acted just as stupidly as you used to act.
Qifrey brought his hand up to poke, noncommittally at your cheek.
You looked up at him to find his gaze trained on you expectantly.
How could they stand to look at you with something akin to kindness? How could they not feel anything but red hot anger?
You turned to look at Olruggio. If you squinted you might even dare to say he was looking at you with a look of distant fondness.
You felt your stomach twist.
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“No.”
The three of you sat in silence. You fiddled with the blades of grass under you.
How would this even work? Would you stay at the Atelier? Would you become close to those four girls of theirs? Or would the brimmed hats track you down? You had become somewhat valuable to them, your innovations fueling a lot of their movement. How would they react when you didn’t come back at the end of the week?
“Stay.” Qifrey’s voice came out so quiet you almost missed it.
You stared at him in shock. He wanted you to stay? After everything? After all the time that passed? After what you had become?
You turned to look at Olruggio, craving a confirmation from him too.
He stared back at you with furrowed brows.
“And when the brimmed hats come back for her?”
You flinch at the accusation in his voice, no matter how true it was.
“I don’t know. What choice do we have though?” Qifrey questioned, voice hushed as if trying for a semblance of privacy.
Privacy from you.
You felt something twist bitterly in your stomach. Suddenly, for the first time, you felt as if you were on the outside of your little trio.
They argued back and forth for a little longer before turning their attention back to you. You can’t help but flush under the heat of their stares.
Olruggio cleared his throat, “Fine. You stay. Just until we figure this–” He gestured between the three of you.
Qifrey pushed off the ground, dusting his clothes off before holding his hand out to Olruggio and then to you.
Just like old times. You see the realization hit him too. How natural it felt. As if no time had passed at all.
You stare at it before pushing off the ground yourself, leaving his hand suspended and empty.
“The atelier is just past this hill.” Olruggio mumbled.
“I know.” You respond before you could think.
“Right.” Olruggio offered back, awkwardly.
You cursed yourself as the two began the trek back.
How could this possibly work? You would be stupid to delude yourself into thinking things would be how they used to. The two of them were as close as ever– closer even. And you were a brimmed hat.
You gasp at the now familiar pull in your chest, yanking you hard into Qifrey’s back. He stumbled, huffing in surprise at the force of your speed. Olruggio turned, closing his hand around your waist and Qifrey’s chest in attempts to stop the momentum of your collision.
“Sorry– sorry” You spluttered, blushed red in embarrassment. “I’ll keep up.”
Olruggio sighed, turning away from you to keep walking, followed quickly by Qifrey.
They didn’t wait for you, but they didn’t have to.
You knew your way home.
Author's note: If you wanna be on my taglist just say so in comments!
ALSO GUYS IM SORRY IK THE VOTE SAID ONESHOT/MORE INFO BUT I DIDN'T WANNA SPOIL AND IM TEMPTED TO MAKE A PART TWO... But hope yall like!
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!
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.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
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.
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Summary: On the third day of cramps, nausea, and exhaustion, you resign yourself to suffering beneath a pile of blankets for the rest of eternity. Remus Lupin, however, has other plans.
tags: Hurt/comfort, Sickfic, Period cramps, Caretaking, Domestic fluff, Established relationship, Soft Remus Lupin, Comfort fic, Non-sexual intimacy
Warnings: Reader has a uterus, period pains, bed rotting, nausea, poor appetite
It was already the third day and you swear it still felt like someone had their first shoved deep into your uterus, clawing away deeper and deeper.
You moaned into your pillow, clutching the hotbag to your stomach before rolling lazily onto your back.
Your period was never usually this bad. Sure this checked out for day 1, but day 3?
You whimpered, eyes narrowed as a glaring light filtered in through your window, accompanied by the familiar sound of a garage opening.
you groaned, curling further into your sweaty mess of comforters and sheets. Hair clung uncomfortably to your forehead as you winced at the feeling of another cramp seizing your body.
There truly was no point in hiding away like this. You had to get up soon anyway to change your tampon. And you were by no means comfortable.
The unmistakable sound of the back door opening rattled through the house straight into your room.
You buried further into your bed.
You loved Remus. You loved him more than anything in this world. But you couldn’t do this. You didn’t want to talk. You didn’t want to explain why you hadn’t left bed. You didn’t want to justify why your body was so nauseous it couldn’t bear to keep anything down.
“Dove?”
His muffled voice called out to you.
Despite all the things you didn’t want to deal with, you couldn’t help but feel your brows unknit at the sound of his voice. You felt the tension slowly seep from your body with the sound of every footstep he took towards your shared room.
A soft knock resonated through the oak door.
“Hey sweetheart, you in there?”
You felt your eyes well with tears. He was so sweet it made you sick.
You kept silent other than your quiet sniffling. Still, you hoped he could simply read your mind and he would walk in and perch himself next to you, stroking your hair and murmuring sweet nothings to you until this horrid week passed.
As if on command the door opened, the warm glow of light from the hallway filtering in.
“Dove?”
Remus shut the door behind him making his way to your side of the bed.
You opened your eyes, still under the covers, just barely making out the blurred outline of Remus standing over you.
You felt a warm steady hand flatten against your thigh, rubbing back and forth as if consoling you.
You keened as another cramp took hold of you, curling in on the hot pack against your stomach.
Remus cooed in sympathy, pulling back the covers to get a better look at you.
“Cramps still bothering you, sweetheart?”
You bit your wobbling lip, eyes clenched tightly shut.
Why did your stupid period even have to come? You supposed it not coming at all might be even worse but you didn’t care about that now. All you knew was you were in excruciating pain and you wanted it gone.
Remus tutted, pulling your bottom lip out from in between your teeth. His hand moved to rest against your head, thumb tracing gentle circles against your temple.
You sighed, subconsciously leaning into his touch.
“When was the last time you ate, love?”
You groaned internally. Honestly, you were quite sure he already knew the answer. There were no dishes in the sink and no cutting boards left out. You were nearly entirely certain he just wanted to hear you say it.
You groaned, tsking as you turned onto your side, facing away from him.
His hand fell from your face, and just as quickly as it was gone you found yourself craving the warmth again.
Undeterred in the slightest by your mood he brought his hand back up, this time to rub soothing circles into your back.
You sighed blissfully as you felt the muscles begin to relax, releasing the tension and tight pain stored in each stretch of skin.
Remus hummed as his fingers began to slowly start adding pressure, kneading into the flesh of your back.
Your eyes fluttered shut, suddenly feeling far lighter than you had all day.
“Awe my sweet girl. Were you feeling this horrible all day? Poor thing.”
You whimpered, turning back towards him to lay your head in his lap.
He still had his coarse outside slacks on. The rough fabric prickled against your skin but you really couldn’t bring yourself to care. Your right hand wound its way around Remus, resting low in his back. Your left hand rested against your face, shielding your eyes from his knowing gaze.
His hands moved from your back up towards your neck, kneading at the base of your spine.
You let out a puff of air, curling tighter into Remus.
“Hey.”
you feel a finger lightly nudge against the hand covering your face.
You moan in refusal, tucking your face into his thigh.
Remus tutted, “Come now, none of that.”
His hands closed around yours moving it away from your face. His fingers intertwined smoothly with yours, squeezing slightly while offering you that warm familiar smile you loved so much.
“Hi sweetheart.” He murmured, bringing your hand up in order to plant a soft kiss against your palm.
You couldn’t help the small smile creeping onto your face at the feeling of his soft lips worshiping you so tenderly.
You’re lips parted.
“Hi” you whispered back.
You grimaced at the sound of your voice, hoarse with the lack of use throughout the day.
Remus cooed, shushing you with a few appeasing rubs against your back.
“How about I get you some water and I’ll whip up some soup for you? That way you’ll be able to take some medicine. Sound good?”
Your face twisted at the thought of having to force down soup.
Ever perceptive, Remus hummed in thought.
“Okay not soup.”
You peered up at him through hooded eyes. His honey brown hair was combed back nicely for work. He still had his polo on, though he had unbuttoned the top couple buttons.
“How about pasta? I can make the creamy one that you like? And then after I can refill your bag and we can cuddle and call it an early night. What do you say?”
You smiled, eyes fluttering shut as you nodded against his leg.
You felt his weight shift as he leaned down to press a soft kiss against your hair, squeezing your shoulder before placing a palm under your head to shift you away from his thigh and back onto your pillow.
You whined at the sudden lack of warmth.
“Just five minutes, sweetheart. I’ll make it super quick”
He gently pulled the covers up to your neck, tenderly tucking you in tight under the sheets.
His hand came back to stroke your hair before leaving another soft kiss this time against your temple before straightening up.
“I’ll be back soon, okay?”
You hummed in response, nuzzling deeper into the bed.
“I love you.” You could practically hear the smile in his voice.
Your eyes fluttered open, meeting his fond gaze.
you smiled, eyes squinting in affection before sneaking a hand out from underneath your haven of blankets to find his, closing your fingers tightly around his, squeezing, as you tilted your head to the side in order to gaze at him better.
“I love you too.”
His brows pulled together as a smile spread across his face. Sighing, he pushed from the bed, making his way back to the door.
You pulled your arm back into the warmth of your army of blankets, eyes falling shut once again.
The pounding in your head had reduced to a dull throb. Even the clenching and unclenching of the muscles near your hips had turned into more of a distant ache.
You sighed, contentedly, sinking further into the mattress.
You truly didn’t know how you had gotten so lucky with Remus.
The familiar smell of the pasta sauce began to seep into the room.
You felt your limbs start to grow heavy as a yawn overtook your body.
Out of all the people and places in the world, what were the odds that you and Remus found each other?
Your smile slowly dissolved into a neutral line as you felt yourself slowly begin to drift into the comfort of sleep, your breathing slowing into deep steady breaths.
There was still so much you had to do. You had to eat, take medication, change into a pad, prep for tomorrow, but that was fine, because you had Remus.
Somewhere beyond the haze, you could still hear Remus moving around the kitchen, humming quietly to himself as he cooked for you.
And for the first time all day, you didn’t hurt quite so much.
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