This Too Will Pass

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!

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. 

“I’m yours aswell.” Qifrey murmured back, awestruck.

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.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

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.

Nanami ݁⋆⭒˚.⋆

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Geto ₊˚⊹☆

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Gojo . ݁₊ ✶. ݁ ˖ˎˊ˗

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Sukuna ⋆₊˚⊹ ࿔⋆

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Toji ⋆｡𖦹°‧★

How could he fault them? He too was enamored by you.

But still, he couldn’t help the slow heat curdling in his stomach at the sight of just how close the pair of you were. 

Perhaps it was the way you were responding to the man just as passionately, laying a hand over his arm in your own excitement. Or maybe, it was the way your head would tip back in delight at a joke he had said. Not Qifrey, him.

Qifrey leaned against the stone pillar, arms crossed tightly in front of him. He felt his lip curl at the sight of the man leaning in to whisper something in your ear.

Truthfully, Qifrey had no right to be upset. It wasn’t as if the pair of you were exclusive. 

He shook his head.

It wasn’t even as if the man you were talking to was making any advances towards you. He was just an Unknowing, infatuated with the idea of magic. How could he blame him for that?

Qifrey breathed deeply in attempts to compose his firing thoughts. 

Regardless, Qifrey was only here in town to support you. The girls had run off to replenish their supplies with Olruggio and how could he leave you all alone? What would you do if you found yourself stuck in a dreadful conversation with no one to save you?

The sound of your bright laugh pulled Qifrey out of his thoughts. He couldn’t help the slow smile that spread onto his face at the sound before he remembered who had drawn that sound from you.

Perhaps it was him that needed saving.

You laughed again, a tinkling sound as you looked away from the man, bashfully. The man grinned at the sight pointing back to your latest invention. 

Qifrey wondered what he was saying to make you so shy. Presumably complimenting the sheer brilliance of your mind.

He snorted, childishly.

He knew you were brilliant far before any Unknowing did. Is that what you wanted to hear from him? Because he would tell you day in and day out just how brilliant he found you if it meant you would look at him as sweetly as you were to him.

He shook his head, looking down towards his slightly scruffed Sylph shoes. 

Qifrey was being unfair and he knew it. 

He wasn’t going to say that there was nothing between the two of you because that would be a blatant lie. But had the two of you ever talked about the buzzing tension between you? Had anything been acknowledged? 

If you asked any of the other inhabitants of the Atelier you would get a resounding no. Honestly, Qifrey was starting to think that your little back and forth dance might be entirely too much tension for poor Tetia.

Still, an embarrassingly large part of Qifrey couldn’t help but revel in the feeling of your fleeting gaze meeting his teasingly, or your lingering touches, or your waggling brows when you whisper a slightly sexual innuendo to him, so close to prying ears.

But officially, the pair of you were nothing more than house-mates– co-workers, even.

Qifrey looked up from his idle feet to find your eyes already trained on him. 

He blinked. 

Almost as if you had read his mind you gazed across the courtyard at him through narrowed eyes and a sly grin. The man from before was still talking spiritedly to you, seemingly undeterred by your lack of attention.

Qifrey smiled back, cautiously. He knew that grin. That was the face that greeted him right before he found a broken vase or children running wild in the Atelier.

That was the smile he saw when you were about to tease him.

You turned away from him to look back at the tall man in front of you, though this time, Qifrey could tell you held no interest for what it was he was saying, spurred by a new task.

You nodded, idly, smiling with mock shyness as your hands moved to rest at the curve of his bicep. 

The man almost inflated under the heat of your affection, puffing out his chest as he kept talking, face resting in a ridiculous smirk that Qifrey would love to just wipe off.

“You’re really not going to do anything about that?” 

Qifrey jumped at the sound of Olruggio’s drawl to the left of the pillar he was leaned on. 

He clutched his chest, in shock, “Where did you come from?”

Olruggio shrugged, still staring at you and the man, amused. “The Starry Sword.”

Qifrey looked down, scanning the ground for four busy-bodied girls.

“They ran off somewhere.” Olruggio supplied, simply. 

He nodded his head back to you, casting a sidelong glance at Qifrey, “Now, what are you going to do about that?”

Qifrey leveled him with an unimpressed look, turning back to face you. In the absence of his attention, the man’s hand had traveled to rest at the junction of your hip and waist. 

Qifrey felt his teeth grit together. 

“They’re a grown witch.” Qifrey grumbled, almost against his will.

“They’re your grown witch.” 

Qifrey’s eyes widened, cheeks flushing as he rounded on Olruggio.

“They’re not my anything!” He spluttered, face reddening.

It was true. You weren’t his. But gosh did he wish you were. 

His flush deepened at his own accusatory thoughts. 

Qifrey could practically feel Olruggio’s blasé look aimed at him as he allowed a low, annoyed groan to escape him.

“The two of you are hopeless.” He deadpanned, turning to walk back towards the market, “Come find me when you finally come to your senses.”

He paused before turning back to glance at Qifrey once more, “And Qifrey? There’s something special about them. Make sure you act fast before someone else beats you to it.” 

Qifrey stared at the back of Olruggio’s retreating form, contemplatively.

The two of you were nothing, right? 

It really wasn’t. Coco had just been excited to try one of your newer spells, one that shot bright bursts of light into the sky. The spell truly is meant to be harmless, but one misaligned arrow was how you found yourself tenderly nursing a deep cut on your side.

You groaned in frustration. 

It meant so much to you that your spells were harmless. You were a combative witch afterall, used to wielding your magic as a weapon. That’s why it was so imperative that you could slow down and enjoy the ‘gentler magic’ as Qifrey once put it. 

 His brow quirked up at your pout.

“Does it hurt terribly?” You faintly registered his fingers drawing back to just barely ghost the skin of your ribs. Just as quickly as he had drawn back you suddenly found yourself craving for the warmth of the pads of his fingers back on the skin of your side.

You shook your head ‘no’, partially because it was true, but mainly because you wanted him to continue nursing you to health.

Being babied didn’t feel so terrible.

“No it doesn’t hurt. I’m just cross with you.” You lied only to keep the conversation going.

Qifrey hummed, not at all put off. His hand found solace back at your waist, steadying you as he dabbed gently at your now stitched wound.

“Why are you cross with me?” He murmured, once again leaving you as he discarded the cotton he had just used.

 You shifted on the table you were perched comfortably on as Qifrey pushed his chair back, leaving from where he was situated between your open thighs.

“Where are you going?” You complained. You realized how childish you must sound right now as your voice adopts a low whine. But who could fault you? You just suffered a nasty blow.

Still, you immediately want to kick yourself from embarrassment before Qifrey looks up at you with a fond expression. You pause, looking down at his lovely face. There was a small divot still in between his brows from worry when he had scanned over your injury. With little thought you reached your hand out to gently flatten the harsh lines. 

You felt him still under the featherlight touch of your soft hand.

“Why are you cross at me?” He echoed his previous question, in a breathy whisper.

“Where are you going?” You whisper back, brow raising in challenge. 

 He smiled, head tilting to brace against his arm on the table. Whisps of silky white hair fell over his face, loosely. 

“I asked first.” He teased, only to rile you up.

You couldn’t help but reach out, brushing strands of white away from his soft blue gaze. Your fingers lingered on the peak of his cheek bone, tracing under the shadow of his shut lashes.

Qifrey’s eyes fluttered shut at the contact, just barely leaning into your touch.

What would the girls say if the saw the pair of you in this moment? You shuddered to think what Agott would say. Probably something sharp out of mock annoyance. You felt a smile involuntarily bloom on your face at the thought of the girls.

Qifrey couldn’t help but mirror your expression, bringing his own hand up to poke at your cheek.

“What would Tetia say if she saw us like this?” He mused, almost as if he had read your mind.

You huffed out a laugh, biting at your lip in thought. 

What would she say? Probably insistent that the pair of you were star-crossed lovers. 

Your face flushed at the thought.

 Qifrey pulled his chair back in between your legs, decidedly abandoning whatever it was he was going to get up for. Absent-mindedly he rested one arm against your thigh, leaning his head flat against it to get a closer look at his stitches. 

Your heart thudded against your chest. You knew he was only being so touchy because of how absorbed he was in his work. Not that he wasn't touchy usually. 

Who were you kidding? He was very touchy with you. As a matter of fact he was only this touchy with you. Everyone in the Atelier knew it– save for you, clearly.

“Gosh I don't want to even entertain that thought.” You groaned, half heartedly, thinking of all the crazed stories Tetia would surely come up with. 

“Let her keep her focus trained on Coco and Tartar.” You finish, grinning at the memory of the two, sneaking around.

Qifrey prodded at your wound, experimentally.

The smile from your face dropped, as you hissed in pain, face contorting into a wince. You tried, unsuccessfully, to school your expression but Qifrey had seen the flash of pain.

He cooed in sympathy, drawing his hand away from your side instead resting on your thigh drawing light circles against the flesh with his thumb in an effort to pacify you.

He stared at you with a tender look, as if the moment he tore his eyes from you, you’d disappear, slipping right through his fingers. You sat in the silence, unusually unbothered by his prolonged soft stare. In fact, you basked in it now, feeling yourself getting tired under the warm rays of his affection.

“Are you going to finish fixing me up?” You question, half-joking as you gestured your head to your exposed stitches.

The second you asked you regret it, realizing this would only shorten the sweetness of the moment.

Qifrey smiled to himself as if he knew some secret you didn't, and that only made you melt all the more. 

He pushed his glasses up his nose from where it had tilted, turning to grab a long bandaid. With nimble hands he peeled the sticky wrapping off the back.

You allowed your mind to wander as you observed how diligently he worked on a task so menial. How everything he did seemed to receive so much of his care and his affection. How strong and steady his arms looked even while holding something as delicate as a piece of fabric.

“Lean back.” He hummed, eyes once again trained onto you.

You rested both your hands on the table beneath you, slowly easing yourself back. You winced at the stretch of your torso and the subsequent stinging on your side.

Qifrey moved quickly, flattening the bandage against your skin. Gingerly, he laid his palm flat against the fabric, moving his other hand to brace your back, pushing his palms together to ensure a tight stick.

You couldn’t help the groan that escaped you, though Qifrey was quick to soothe you, tracing small shapes and swirls into your skin.

“There, done.” He murmured, assuring you that the worst of it was over. His hands remained resting around your waist, kneading you into a mound of clay in his expert hands.

You sighed, contently, leaning forward to rest your forehead against his shoulder.

His hands moved down to press against the the curve of your hips as he leaned his head against yours, ever so slightly.

Your voice lowered to a hushed whisper, as if you were telling him a secret.

“I’m cross with you because you care too much.”.

You felt his ministrations pause briefly before he continued on, humming, thoughtfully.