Ther

His mouth down to his chin is slick with a glistening sheen under the fire not far away. His tongue is dripping with the essence of your taste. A taste so sweet and uniquely yours that he doesn't mind the wet mess you're making on him.

Your legs quiver around his head, while his own hands pin your thighs down. His lips sucks sweetly at your dripping pussy while his tongue licks your insides feverishly. He teases you, flicking his tongue at your sensitive clit, laughing against your needy pussy while you whine.

"Oh, darlin'," his velvet voice teases you as he pulls away, your slick clinging to him in lewd web strands that stick to your pussy. "You're making quite the mess, again."

"I'm sorr—" your pitiful attempt to apologize is cut short when his large fingers slip easily inside of you, and his thumb rubs your clit in perfect circles, nothing less than perfect from a witch like him.

You were like a leaking faucet with each plunge of his fingers, tiny squirts of water spraying against his chest. The sounds of his palm smacking against your ass emit a wet clap, wet sloshing of his fingers filling you, and with a wet and humiliating 'pop' whenever he pulls them from your tight cunt.

Jealous sex with Qifrey doesn't mean his hips snapping against your ass at a brutal pace, or his touch straying far from the gentle touch you've become accustomed to—although his touch is not as tender as it was.

Jealous sex with Qifrey isn't him verbally degrading you or teasing you more than he normally does.

Jealous sex with Qifrey is him trying to find comfort in you. Every word that slips from his lips is a plea for security. When you try to hold your sweet moans from his ears, he grips your chin, forcing you to look him in the eye, and with a pitiful beg, "Let me hear you. Let me hear the efforts of my love."

Qifrey's thrusts are paradoxical. Slow and sensual quickly becomes frantic and sloppy. There is no sense to his motions when he struggles to comprehend his jealousy. He's not mad at you, but the world itself. He doesn't want to hurt you, but he has no other outlet for these vile feelings brewing in his heart.

Jealous sex with Qifrey means a lot more marks around your neck that resemble the ring of the glyphs he's always making. They're scattered around your neck, shoulders, and inner thighs.

Kisses are deep and a fight you can't win. His tongue explores the crevice of your mouth, dominating your tongue in his yearning. His kisses go beyond just your lips. His lips trail down your body, taking your breast in his mouth while his hands feverishly knead at your skin. His touch isn't as gentle as it usually is. It's desperate. His fingers dig into your skin, kneading it between his fingers while his hips hump against you pathetically.

Every moan, whine, and cry is magic to his ears. He pleases you so that you can scream to the world that you are his.

"Tell me how good I make you feel."

"Don't be shy darling, let me hear you."

"I love you…I love everything about you…you love me too, right?"

His pointer and ring finger spread your folds easily, allowing cool air to kiss against your lips. This is mortifying. Just when you think about ripping from his grasp, his middle finger lands on your clit, a shock of electricity running through your system as soon as he makes contact. 

Just the right amount of pressure. 

You yelp, your legs trying to squeeze shut, but he refuses to let you do that. Qifrey lets go of your face now that he can trust you’re fully entranced, before keeping a palm on your leg to keep you spread. 

He clicks his tongue in reply, a subtle hint for you to behave. It’s hard to go on when he does that. You try your hardest to stay still as his finger circles your clit, slowly at first before building up. He’s good with his hands, and he knows it. 

It only takes a couple of minutes before you’re moaning, your lips permanently ajar as he spreads your wetness around your cunt. It’s slippery, hot, and so so good. How are you supposed to ever think about touching yourself again? When his fingers exist? Not that he’d complain about offering you assistance.

“You’re getting in your head again,” he notes, pressing down slightly harder. 

“C-Can’t stop it, Qifrey.” 

“I need your help.” He doesn’t, but he likes to include you anyway, always the bleeding heart. 

You arch your back away from his body but his free hand is quick to correct your form. There's no room for any nonsense with him. 

“Slide a finger inside for me.” 

All the hair on your body stands on edge at his order. That’s exactly what it is. You want to call it how you see it. It isn’t a suggestion, no, it’s what he wants you to do. 

You don’t want to disappoint him, of course. 

You slither your fingers down your body, shakily bumping against his hand in the process as you maneuver around it to reach your aching hole. He doesn't stop massaging your clit for even a second. 

Okay. 

Your middle finger slips inside and it feels…alright. It's good to have something fill you up. Your pussy has been begging for it the second Qifrey helped slide your clothes off. It’s just not enough. You whine as you watch the two of you work your body. His experienced finger rubbing circles into you while your hand stutters to keep up the pace, trying to match his movements. 

“How’s that?” He asks, ever the inquisitive tutor. 

“It’s…” your clit is throbbing against his finger now. You press back into him, letting his smooth robe engulf you. “Good. It’s good…” 

He must not believe you. You manage to forget every time, but Qifrey excels at picking up on the small things. 

“Are you sure?” He probes, slowing down. 

You whimper, your body crying for more. 

“No, it’s not enough.” You come out with it, half ashamed that you can’t pleasure your own body enough, and half humiliated that you’re even mentioning it right now. You press in a second finger to see if that changes anything, and it doesn’t.

“It’s okay, darling,” Qifrey coos at you, finding your reaction endearing. “Sometimes you need a little extra help. That’s alright.” 

His words are like ice to your wounds, soothing the flames inside of you. 

“Let me see your fingers.” 

You slowly pull them from your core and Qifrey pauses his movements for a moment to peer at your hand. It’s wet, strings of lust webbing your fingers together. You look at him in the mirror, waiting for any praise or disappointment. He really is beautiful. His lashes brush against his cheeks, bright white shielding his blue eyes. Qifrey shows no tells aside from a tiny grin he gives you in reply. 

“Do you want to see how I do it?” He asks, as if there’s any other response aside from yes. 

Qifrey uses the hand that hasn't touched your cunt yet to press his middle finger against you, sliding inside. The sensation is immediately different from yours. He’s long. Skin a bit cold to the touch, but entirely purposeful. Qifrey waits until you’re warmed up enough for him before he pushes it in fully. His finger twitches, softly caressing your walls. 

It’s hard to save face after that. 

Your whines fill the room at an embarrassing pace. He grins softly before using his other hand to continue rubbing at your clit. Both appendages work you up, one slowly fucking into you while the other presses against your swollen nub. 

“Is that any better?” 

“Yes, oh my god Qifrey,” your eyes are laser focused on his hand's reflection. If you look close enough you can see your slick beginning to coat his flesh. 

He chuckles softly in approval before breathing out a sigh, looking entirely too content as he watches the two of you in the mirror. 

“You’re being so good for me, did you know that?” He’s quiet as he says it, his praise heating your ears like melted gold. 

“W-Wanna be good for you,” you murmur a reply even though you aren’t really sure he was looking for one. 

“Think you can continue being good for me?” His pace picks up slightly. “Can you take another finger?” 

It already feels like he’s filling you completely, but you want to make him proud. 

“Mhm, yes,” your legs tremble while moans escape your lips. 

Qifrey eases his ring finger alongside the other inside you, stretching out your cunt carefully. “There you go,” He says under his breath.

He keeps rubbing at your clit, his finger now gliding more easily against you as you continue to leak around his palm. He draws circles, before swiping side to side, then back again all while watching to see what makes you twitch most. The longer he finger fucks you, the more you can feel him press against your back. Hard and big, no doubt leaking into his own pants. Qifrey doesn't show any sign of greed though. He’s only focused on you and your pleasure. 

“Sometimes it's good to have another set of hands, hm? You don’t know what to expect when-“ he curls his fingers just right at that moment, sending you reeling. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as your hands twitch around, trying to grab onto him as you all but yell out. “-right there, right?” He finishes his sentence as he finds what he was looking for. 

You nod dramatically, squealing against him. You can tell that your orgasm is just right around the corner, so close you can almost taste it. 

“Don’t worry, I got you,” he continues fucking into you with his fingers, pressing against that mushy spot inside of you all while using his other hand to abuse your clit. 

When you refocus your vision you notice that his lips are slightly parted, his gaze locked onto your cunt. Up until this moment you wouldn’t have been able to tell that he was getting anything out of this, his demeanor almost clinical, but now you can see the cracks. You can see the way pink flushes his cheeks lightly, how his breathing has slowly started to pick up. 

“Q-Qifrey, I’m gonna, you’re gonna make me,” 

His tongue darts out to wet his lips quickly, inhaling sharply at your tone. “Good, you’re so good,” he’s cooing at you now, all while increasing his pace. 

It feels like fireworks going off in your body, each cell exploding as you cum on his fingers. You twitch and wiggle against him but he stays on task, guiding you through your orgasm until you relax in his hold once more. 

Qifrey chuckles, voice shaky as he slides his fingers from your pussy, holding both palms in front of you. They’re both nearly dripping. 

“I’d say we did a good job, hm?” He murmurs with a grin.

Tag List: @mikisspeak, @dinolvrrr, @sakui1, @reiluvr, @gothiccwhore666, @bunviixo, @slutshamethesquirrels

before he could even get a sense of control over his thoughts, he had already intertwined your fingers with each other. his heart pounds against his chest loudly.

the headaches were particularly painful the following days.

no, he had never told you about it.

and so will the love he has for you die along with his hope, silver roots wrapped around his broken heart that's never ever uttered a single word of love for you. it feels like heartbreak, but how can his heart break if there was no beginning in the first place? when there was no confession, no exchange of ‘i love you's.

the word love builds up like vile in his throat.

but he will be damned if he doesn't show you in some kind of way.

“aren't they adorable!?” tettia quietly coos at the two adults, watching qifrey scoop up another serving of dinner for you without your say so.

“i want something like that when i grow up!”

“they're not together like that, though.” richeh trails off, a thought spiraling on her mind. “master qifrey himself said so.”

“and yet his actions don't match his words.” agott watched on as well, noting the particular way qifrey looks at you.

like you are his world, the very magic in his eye.

“wait, are they not… together?” coco tilts her head. “i assumed they were together. they seem to be so close.”

“unfortunately, master qifrey himself said so.” tettia slumps against the table with a pout. “if that's not what love looks like, then what does it look like?”

“aren't you a little too young to think of love?”

startled, the four girls turn to face you. tettia waves her hand in front of her frantically, “n-no! that's not what i meant!”

“oh ho?” qifrey comes from behind you, cheshire smile plastered on his face. “who is the lucky boy, may i ask?”

“there's no boy!” tettia whines, turning to richeh. “help me out here!”

“coco has a boy.” the girl gasped.

“no i do not!”

“who's tartah then?”

dinner was noisy that night with the girls continuing their playful banter. qifrey watched on with a fond smile, his hand unknowingly reaching out for yours. when his fingers touched yours in the slightest did he snap back to his senses, playing it off by scratching the back of his head.

he doesn't know if you felt it too, but if you did, he's relieved you did not say a word about it.

after dinner, the girls went about their rooms, bidding the two adults goodnight.

“oh, you don't have to do that.”

qifrey steps beside you at the sink, watching you cast a water spell to clean up the dishes.

“it's no problem, dear. you had a long afternoon of teaching already and you cooked dinner. at least let me help clean around.”

dear.

it felt so natural to have you call him by that nickname. like he is that word to you, dear. too domestic, no question asked. there was something about the air around you when he's within your proximity. you radiate so much peace that even he can feel it. it's an infectious thing.

and that's the problem itself.

it feels too good, too peaceful with you, that he fears the roots will take its place once again. he says nothing about everything he feels, because he knows you like the back of his hand.

he knows you love him too.

and it was the reciprocal feelings that he cannot speak about. it's risky, it's painful. oh so painful, that even if he wants to have you for himself, then the silverwood will have him in exchange.

if love is peace, why does it hurt him so?

“qifrey?”

his name sounds so sweet coming from your mouth.

“yes?”

it was then that he noticed the sudden proximity between the two of you. he could feel your warmth from this distance. he can sense the way you shudder when his breath fans along your face. he can feel the way your fingers twitch at his touch, though he wonders when had he taken your hand in his to hold? he can see your eyes so clearly, the swirling pool of color within those crystals mesmerizing, almost hypnotic in a way only magic can tell.

love is, in some way, a magical thing.

“you're beautiful.”

he hears the way your breath falters, your eyes dilating in response to his words. he traces the skin on your cheek with a delicate touch, searching your eyes for some form of misgiving towards his affection.

all of the sudden, fear gathers at the back of his throat, like a fish bone stuck to his throat stubbornly refusing to come off.

this shouldn't have happened.

he wasn't supposed to be this close to you. wasn't supposed to touch you so freely and desire to have more of you. to have you whole to himself. it shouldn't be this easy to have you succumb to his warmth, a faux comfort that hides the true horror within his heart and missing eye.

“i'm sorry, my star, i did not–” he frowns, truly questioning his feeble attempt to resist his desire.

you're too close, oh, so close.

perhaps he should erase your memory of this night?

the thought of taking something away from you, your memories, suffocates him so. but before he could lament his predicament, your hand held his palm against your cheek, a smile so sweet and gentle contrasting the swirling storm in him.

“you don't have to say anything.”

your words were final, like a stubborn stone wedge into the soil or a sword struck deep into the ground. only someone with immense strength can challenge you and qifrey was but a man powerless against all that you are.

“you don't have to tell me how you feel about me.”

your nose nuzzles into his palm, and god did his heart almost leap out of his chest and into your hands. you look at him from his palm, your lips pressed against his skin with a smile.

oh, he's about to faint.

“you don't have to say it out loud. i know what you feel about this. about us.”

“you deserve better than this.” he shook his head in denial. “you deserve someone who can proudly call you the object of their affection. not… this silence.”

he tears his gaze away from your probing ones. he can tell that just by looking at you, he's buying himself his own pot of soil.

“you mustn't chain yourself with a man who cannot even proclaim their affection towards you. what i am is a coward.”

“what you are is my qifrey.”

his heart skipped a beat, or perhaps was it the roots of silverwood piercing his heart?

“you can't just say things like that.” it almost sounded like a whine, and you giggle at how precious he looks right now. with his cheeks flushed and restless eye, looking anywhere but you.

why can't you show some mercy on this man's heart?

“you may have your reasons to keep me at arms length.” he grimaces at the intention of your words, “but i'm already at peace that you still share a part of your life with me. that i still get to stand beside you.”

you gently tug him down, pressing your forehead against his in a nuzzle.

“this… what we share between us may take forever to be spoken out loud,” you place a finger right at his lips, watching his breath grow heavier from the touch. “but i am willing to stand by you for a lifetime and more.”

you lean to kiss the finger atop of his lips, fully pulling back to see his bewildered and already reddening face.

“my dear, you look like you're about to explode.”

“you can't just do that and expect me to remain calm!”

your giggle echoes through the quiet kitchen. qifrey might be a little delirious, he could have sworn he heard the chimes of fairies favoring every sound you make with those extremely tempting lips of yours.

what do they taste like?

“fret not.” your hand caresses his cheeks, “no unspoken words can push me away from you.”

“i don't want to hurt you.” he tries to look the other way, but with your hand tilting his gaze back to you has him melting on the spot. his futile attempt to avoid your intense look has him weak on the knees.

what kind of magic did you cast on him?

“no pain exists when i am within your presence.”

“my dear…”

“shh.”

you pull him a little closer, resting your head just above his collarbone. he's trembling, whether from the promising position the two of you are in or from his fears, you don't mind. not when he's this close to you. the closest he's ever been to you. you'd do anything to preserve this moment.

“you don't have to tell me everything.”

you place a hand on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

“all that matters is we're here.”

his warm and gentle hands press against the back of your waist, finally letting himself hold you in his arms.

your body fits every crevice, resting against his chest.

“i'd wait for a lifetime for you.” you whisper into his robes. “i'll remember you even in my next life.”

“you think that's possible?”

“everything's possible with magic.”

he hopes so. perhaps then, he wouldn't have to wait for another lifetime to feel this once more. to be at peace in your arms, free from all his fear.

perhaps then, he could hold your hand whenever he wants, feel the warmth of your palm against his.

perhaps then, he can tell you the words he's been dying to say. he won't have to fear the consequences of telling you he loves you, oh, so much. that he wants you to be his and him, yours.

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.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

❏ Qifrey is the type to give you a morning, afternoon, and evening kiss before resting for the night. Think of it almost as a reassuring habit for him every day. A reminder like “yup you’re still here with me”.

❏ Qifrey is the type to assure you not to worry about himself whenever he gets worried or anxious about things. Whenever it’s the brimmed caps or forbidden magic. He doesn’t want you to worry alongside him, as he wishes for you to be living with little to no worries.

❏ Qifrey is the type to make out slow but romantically sweet with you in the long mornings on the weekends when his apprentices are still asleep. Therefore, it gives you two more time for yourselves before starting the day.

❏ Qifrey is the type to give you little hand massages whenever you’ve been working on a spell or if he notices ink stains, thick calluses, or you complaining silently about how your hands ache. It brings solace to you both.

❏ Qifrey is the type to hold your hand and give you small pecks on your forehead or cheek whenever you two are out from the atelier. He doesn’t mind PDA but likes to keep it small usually. Sometimes, however, whenever he’s feeling lovey-dovey, he just can’t help it. ♡

❏ Qifrey is the type to wait till you fall asleep first before he does. Again, it gives him a sense of peace knowing you’re safe to sleep beside him.

❏ Qifrey is the type to wrap his arms around your waist when he’s exhausted or done for the day. Resting his heavy head on one of your shoulders. Maybe even pressing a lingering kiss on it while he closes his eyes.

▐ apologies if they’re any grammar errors ᝰ.ᐟ

▐ 𝘋𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳：@/omi-resources @/virtualseraph ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

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? 

At first, it happened accidentally. One rainy evening, the apprentices had been restless after a long day of lessons and poor weather, too distracted to settle properly and far too awake despite the late hour. Tetia kept talking when she was supposed to be asleep, Coco had somehow convinced Richeh to keep playing a game with her under the blankets, and even Agott looked irritated enough by the noise that she could not relax either. Qifrey had been halfway through attempting to restore order when you quietly appeared in the doorway holding one of your old storybooks against your chest.

“Would anyone like a story?” you asked softly.

The room went silent instantly.

After that, it became tradition.

Every single night, no matter how busy the day had been, the apprentices gathered together for your stories before bed. Sometimes it happened in the girls’ room with blankets piled everywhere and lantern light glowing warmly against the walls. Sometimes it happened downstairs near the fireplace when rain tapped softly against the windows. On colder nights, everyone squeezed together beneath oversized quilts while you sat nearby with one of your enormous weathered books resting open in your lap.

You always read like the stories were real.

That was the part the children loved most.

Your voice softened and shifted with every page, becoming warm and dreamy whenever you described distant stars or floating kingdoms or lonely travelers crossing endless skies. You gave every character their own voice. Every magical creature felt alive beneath your words. When you described constellations, the apprentices could practically see them shimmering overhead. When you spoke about ancient witches crossing oceans of clouds, it sounded so beautiful and wistful that even Agott stopped pretending not to care.

And Qifrey?

Qifrey fell in love with you a little more every single time he watched it happen.

He rarely interrupted. Usually, he sat somewhere nearby with a quiet cup of tea in his hands while listening to your voice drift softly through the atelier. Sometimes he leaned against the doorway watching unnoticed while warm lantern light caught against your face. Other times he sat directly beside you on the couch close enough that your shoulders brushed whenever you turned pages.

The apprentices noticed very quickly that he barely looked at the books themselves.

He only looked at you.

Especially during the softer parts of the stories.

There was something almost mesmerizing about the way you read aloud. Your expression grew gentle and distant, like you could see every world hidden inside the pages unfolding perfectly in front of you. Sometimes your voice became so tender during emotional scenes that Coco looked seconds away from crying. Tetia openly cried every single time. Even Richeh, despite trying to appear composed, always listened with complete focus.

Agott once quietly asked Qifrey why your stories sounded so different from everyone else’s.

He smiled faintly before answering, “Because she reads them like she loves them.”

And you did.

The stories mattered to you deeply. You treated them carefully, reverently almost, smoothing old pages with delicate fingers and remembering tiny details from books you had read dozens of times before. Many of the stories were old fairytales collected during your travels, full of wandering stars and sleeping forests and lonely magical beings searching for home. Some were bittersweet. Others were comforting and warm. But every story carried that same soft feeling whenever you told them, like being wrapped carefully in starlight.

One evening, Coco asked why all your stories felt sad and happy at the same time.

You smiled quietly at that while closing your book halfway. “Because I think the best stories usually are,” you explained softly. “They remind you that lonely things can still find happiness.”

Qifrey looked at you very carefully after you said that.

The apprentices, thankfully, were too distracted by the next chapter to notice.

Another thing they failed to notice at first was how often Qifrey became openly affectionate during storytime. It started subtly. A hand resting behind your shoulders on the couch. Fingers absentmindedly smoothing your hair back when it fell into your face while reading. Quietly placing tea beside you before you even realized your cup was empty. Small things.

Then one night, Tetia caught him staring at you with such obvious adoration that she nearly screamed.

You were sitting by the fireplace reading about a traveler carrying tiny stars inside glass lanterns while rain fell softly outside the atelier windows. Coco had fallen halfway asleep against your side already, and Richeh was struggling bravely to stay awake despite visibly losing the battle. Your voice had gone especially soft during the final pages, warm enough to make the entire room feel gentle and safe.

Qifrey was watching you like you hung the stars yourself.

Tetia looked between the two of you in absolute disbelief before whispering loudly, “Oh, he’s in love with her.”

Agott smacked a pillow directly into her face.

You blinked in confusion while Qifrey calmly sipped his tea without denying it even slightly.

After that, the apprentices became unbearably aware of it.

They noticed the way Qifrey always looked calmer whenever storytime began, tension leaving his shoulders the moment your voice filled the room. They noticed how he smiled whenever you became especially animated during exciting scenes. They noticed the impossibly soft expression he wore whenever you gently tucked blankets around the girls afterward while whispering goodnight to each of them.

But the worst moments were always after everyone else had fallen asleep.

Sometimes the apprentices only pretended to sleep long enough to witness it.

You would close your book quietly, carefully marking the page before glancing around at the pile of exhausted children surrounding you. Coco usually slept curled against your arm. Tetia sprawled dramatically across blankets. Agott pretended to sleep much more neatly than everyone else despite occasionally mumbling in her dreams.

And Qifrey would move closer the second your attention finally returned to him.

“You’re tired,” he would murmur softly.

“A little.”

“You read for nearly two hours.”

“They like the longer stories.”

His gaze would warm immediately at that because of course it would. You always sounded genuinely happy about it, no matter how exhausted you were afterward.

Then, inevitably, Qifrey would reach over and take the heavy storybook gently from your hands before setting it aside. Sometimes he brushed his fingers against yours deliberately slowly afterward, lingering for just a moment longer than necessary. Sometimes he tucked loose strands of hair behind your ear while looking at you with that unbearably tender expression that always made your heartbeat feel uneven.

One particularly cold evening, after the girls had finally fallen asleep piled together beneath blankets near the fire, Qifrey quietly drew you against his chest while you sat together on the couch in comfortable silence. The atelier glowed softly in fading firelight while snow drifted gently outside the windows. You rested your head against his shoulder with a sleepy sigh, still holding your closed storybook loosely against your lap.

“They love you very much,” Qifrey murmured after a while.

You smiled faintly without opening your eyes. “I love them too.”

“I know.”

There was a small pause before he added quietly, “It’s beautiful watching you with them.”

Something in his voice made you finally look up at him.

Qifrey’s expression had gone soft in that honest unguarded way he only allowed around a handful of people. His hand rested warmly against yours while he watched you with such overwhelming affection that it nearly made your chest ache.

“You look at them like they’re precious,” he said quietly. “Like every story is something you want to protect for them.”

Your expression softened immediately.

“They deserve beautiful things,” you whispered.

Qifrey smiled then, small and impossibly fond, before leaning down to press a gentle kiss against your forehead while the fire crackled softly nearby and the children slept peacefully around you both.

And somehow, in that moment, the atelier felt less like a workshop and more like a home held together by warmth, stories, and the quiet way Qifrey loved listening to your voice fill every corner of it.

Qifrey hates the bar. He doesn’t mind drinking, in fact he likes doing it when he’s with Olruggio and you at the atelier. But at a bar? No thank you.

So he doesn’t know how you two convinced him to come to the bar with the both of you.

“You need to loosen up Qifrey. You’ve been stiff and a board recently.” Olruggio explains before downing another glass.

You roll your eyes and place a hand on his shoulder, “You need a little break. We’re worried about you. You’ve been running yourself into the ground with all these missions you’ve been doing recently.”

“I am alright, I assure you.” He says another false lie that comes out so naturally at this point.

You pull your hand from his shoulder and he already misses your warmth. “I hate it when you lie to me,” you murmur before walking away.

He calls your name but you don’t turn around or stop at all to indicate you’re listening. Damn it. Why does he always mess up with you?

“Ouch, that was painful.”

Qifrey glares at Olruggio, “I don’t need your opinion.”

“If you keep acting this way, she’s never going to date you.” Olruggio waves down the bartender. He orders two more drinks and slides one over to his friend. “I mean just look, someone else will come along and sweep her off her feet. Or that’s what I think the line in fairytales is.”

Qifrey looks past his friend to see you talking to another witch. The witch looks somewhat familiar. He squints to try and see the man before you better.

Oh no. Out of all guys it had to be him? Pierre. The guy that had the biggest crush on you when you all went to the academy. That guy would never shut up about you.

He watches as you nod along to whatever Pierre says. Are you really entertaining him? He knows you’re a kind person but do you really have to entertain him.

Qifrey starts to feel this burning feeling in his stomach and a pain in his chest as you start to laugh at whatever he’s says. Your beautiful laugh and smile that makes him feel like he won something when he gets that reaction out of him. Why are you doing it with someone else? You should be here, by his side.

“Yeah that’s right, pretty funny isn’t it.”

“Well I didn’t expect your apprentice to burn your pants when trying to learn a fire spell. Good thing he didn’t burn you,” you respond to Pierre.

“That’s what I said! The poor boy was so scared and refused to practice magic for a week after.” Pierre tells you.

“I wouldn’t blame him. I’d be in the same boat.”

“Anyways how are you? What have you been up to?”

“Oh I’ve just been doing some missions nothing too crazy. I live at Qifrey’s atelier with him and Olruggio. You remember them right?”

He plasters a fake smile on his face, “Oh yeah, how can I forget the two best students in our class that always hung around you.”

That sounded very condensing you think to yourself. Why does he have such a problem with them? For the most part the boys kept to themselves while you all were at the academy. So what’s with the attitude.

“Yep. We are still as close as ever.”

“Oh well that must be awkward when all you go on dates and bring them home.”

“We haven’t had to worry about that. No one has brought a date home,” you tell him.

“So you’re single?” He clarifies.

“Yes.”

He grabs your hand, “Are you looking for someone?”

“I have my eye on someone and have for a while.” Even if the guy lies to you about how he’s truly doing and probably doesn’t return your feelings but Pierre doesn’t need to know that.

Qifrey is boiling with jealousy when Pierre so calmly grabs your hand and holds it. Why aren’t you pulling away? Pull away damn it. Wait. Do you like it? Do you like him?

That thought makes Qifrey want to throw up the drink he’s been slowly sipping on as he watches you. He wants to be the one to make you laugh and smile. He wants to be the one to hold your hand and look at you like you’re the only one that deserves his attention.

But the seed of doubt crawls back into him. Can he truly make you happy? Someone that is a ticking time bomb because he’s a silverwood host? Someone that denies his feelings all the time so he doesn’t cause problems? Someone that has to erase your memories so you two can actually be side by side without any consequences?

Can he give you a life with all the love and attention you deserve? He wants to but every time he wants to tell you, they get caught in his throat and never get spoken aloud.

“Does this mean I can ask you out?” Pierre asks.

How obnoxious, he thinks you’re talking about him. He couldn’t be further from the truth.

Before you can respond he presses a kiss to the back of your hand. You internally cringe and try to hold back your gag. That’s the last thing you wanted to happen tonight. Guess you’ll have to go out tomorrow to buy more soap because you’re going to use all the soap in the atelier trying to wipe that kiss off.

Your wrist is snatched and you start to get dragged away. You see Qifrey pulling you towards the door. “Qifrey, what are you doing?”

“We are leaving.”

You look around but don’t see Olruggio, “Where’s Olly?”

“I said, we are leaving.”

Your other wrist is then snatched and you feel yourself being pulled backwards.

“What do you think you’re doing Qifrey? We were in the middle of a conversation.” Pierre tries to pull you back to him.

You wince at Pierre’s grasp on you. His pull really hurt compared to Qifrey’s.

“Let go of her, you’re hurting her.” Qifrey tells him.

“I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t ruin our conversation.” He tightens his grip and you try to pull out of it.

Qifrey comes to stand beside you but slips his hand into yours. “Let go of her. We are leaving.”

“I don’t believe I heard her say anything about want to leave.”

“I could tell she was uncomfortable with you. So I wanted to get her out of it.”

“Oh so you did and not her? If she was truly that uncomfortable she would have done it herself.” He shakes his head, “You’re still as arrogant as ever.”

“Don’t call him that,” you cut into the conversation.

“Be quiet the men are talking.” Pierre glares at Qifrey. “No one wants you here Qifrey. No one ever does so if you want to leave so bad, get out.”

“I want him here.” You speak up again.

Pierre glares at you, “Stop trying to give all your attention to be one of his whores-“

Qifrey lets go of your hands and wraps his around Pierre’s wrist and pulls him off of you. “You can say anything you want about me, but the second you say something about her, I will make you regret everything.”

“You freak. Just because you were babied doesn’t mean you get whatever you want. Let the poor girl actually have someone who can take care of her.”

Those words send Qifrey spiraling in his mind again. Can he take care of you? Yes, yes he can. He will show you right here and now he can.

“I will always look after her like I have since I was a kid. I will care for her more than anyone.” Qifrey easily admits.

“She will never be happy with you.”

“I will die trying if that’s what it means to make sure she’s happy.”

“So you want her to be one of your whores-“

The room chills with the glare Qifrey sends Pierre’s way. He stops talking and starts to breathe heavily. “If you say one more thing about her, I will personally see that you cannot cast another spell again.”

Qifrey grabs your hand and pulls you out of the bar and starts off on the gravel path.

The walk back is excruciatingly quiet. You two are still holding hands but he doesn’t say a word or even look at you. His gaze is fixed on the road ahead of him. You don’t even know what to do to ease his tension. You decide to try and squeeze his hand to give him some reassurance but he just squeezes yours back and keeps walking.

As you two near the atelier you let go of his hand and finally break the silence. “What was that back there? You never cause scenes.”

“As I said earlier, you looked uncomfortable so I thought you and I should leave.”

“That’s a lie and you know it.”

“No it is not.”

You cross your arms, “Are you always going to lie to me? Because if it is I’m going to leave.”

He whips his head around, “What?”

“If you can’t be honest with me about anything then why should I stay? If you can’t tell me the truth you obviously don’t trust me.”

“That’s not true,” He argues.

“Oh? Then explain it to me since I obviously don’t understand.”

“It’s not simple.”

You throw your hands up, “You always say that!”

“Because it is!” He yells back.

You take a step back and he feels his heart drop. You’re slowly but surely leaving. Just tell her the damn truth he tells himself over and over again.

“Explain it to me Qifrey! I want to understand, I want to help you!”

“I can’t!” No wrong words. He watches your face crumble and he panics. “I didn’t mean that-“

“I guess I’ll take my leave then.”

You spin around and start walking again on the gravel path you two were just on.

“Wait!” He catches your wrist again. “Don’t go. Please,” he begs.

You turn to him with tears in your eyes, “What are you so afraid of Qifrey? That I’ll judge you when I hear the truth? That things will change?”

“I’m scared to lose you,” he admits out loud finally.

“You’re not going to lose me.”

“You can’t guarantee that.”

“I guess you’re right but nobody can guarantee anything with that point of view.” You raise a hand to his face and let it rest against his cheek. “Talk to me.”

He leans into your hand and closes his eye, “I’m in love with you. I have been for the longest time and I don’t want you to be with anyone else. Watching you with him tonight made me realize I could lose you at any second and I hate that. I want you by my side always because I love you.”

Your voice hitches once again and he opens his eyes to see tears pouring down your face. He starts to panic. “What’s wrong?”

“Qifrey this better not be one of your lies,” you whisper.

“It’s not,” he whispers back. “I truly love you.”

You wrap your arms around his neck and cry into his shoulder. “I love you too,” you say between sobs.

He is quick to hold you tightly against him and shudder once he hears your response.

“I’ve loved you ever since you gave me half of your food when you and Olly sat with me at lunch when the other kids took my food.”

Qifrey kisses the side of your head and holds you tighter. “I can’t believe it. I was so scared to tell you because I thought I didn’t deserve this.”

You pull back just enough to see his face, “You deserve everything good this life has to offer. Just because your past is dark doesn’t mean your future has to be as well.”

“It won’t be now that I have you,” he promises. “I will do everything in my power to make you happy.”

“I don’t think I could be any happier than I am not Qifrey.”

He smiles, “I feel the same.”

“Finally, now I don’t have to watch you two mope around anymore.”

You jump in Qifrey’s hold at the sound of a new voice.

“Olruggio.” Qifrey says his name in the threatening tone. But you relax when you realize it’s not a new person and just your friend.

“You two owe me, I paid all three tabs.”

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly.

“It’s whatever. You’re just lucky I didn’t throw a glass at the guys head when he said ‘the men are talking’, the hell was that?”

You laugh, “I would have loved to see that.”

“I knew he was a jerk but I didn’t think he’d say something like that.” Qifrey adds on, “He’s lucky I didn’t cast a spell against him.”

“Well it’s over!” You pull out of Qifrey’s hold and clap your hands. “I think it’s time for bed, and maybe a shower for you Olly… I smell the alcohol from here.”

“Oi, I don’t smell.”

“You do,” Qifrey agrees with you.

“Whatever, just go to bed you two.”

Qifrey grabs your hand and guides you into the atelier and into his room.

“Qifrey I have no clothes in here, I got to go change first.”

“Just wear my shirt, you’ve done it before.”

You relent because you know he is going to win the argument in the end. You change into one of his shirts and crawl into his bed. He changes quickly as well and slides in next to you.

He pulls your back against his check and buries himself in your neck. He places a soft kiss before muttering “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

“I love you.”

Not in the ordinary way people noticed things—he didn't just realize when someone was sad or tired or hungry. Qifrey observed people the same way a scholar studied ancient magic circles, piecing together tiny details into complete pictures. So it became painfully obvious, painfully early, that he noticed you. He noticed the way you drifted half a step away whenever someone brushed your shoulder in crowded markets. He noticed your hands curling tightly into your sleeves whenever Agott linked arms with Coco and tried to drag everyone around. He noticed how your eyes darted, just for a fraction of a second, whenever someone reached toward you unexpectedly. And because Qifrey was Qifrey, he never pointed it out. He simply adjusted himself around you as naturally as water flowing around stone.

The two of you had not intended to become anything. At least, you certainly hadn't. Qifrey had a habit of collecting people; students, strays, broken things, lonely things—and somehow you had found yourself orbiting his workshop more and more often. You'd help sort books or organize spell diagrams while he worked. Sometimes he’d speak with ridiculous theatrical flair, draping himself dramatically over chairs and complaining about paperwork as if it were a mortal curse. Other times he would go quiet, sunlight catching in his pale hair while he focused on drawing circles with such intense concentration that he looked like a different person entirely. You grew addicted to those shifts. To the softness beneath his charm. To the strange warmth of being understood without needing to explain yourself. Which was dangerous, because Qifrey looked at people like he could see every hidden fracture in them—and somehow made you feel less afraid of being cracked.

You realized you were in trouble one evening when the children had gone to sleep and rain tapped gently against the workshop windows. You sat on the floor surrounded by books while Qifrey sat beside you, reading something absurdly ancient and complicated. There had been no conversation for almost twenty minutes. No pressure to speak. No expectation. Just quiet. Then you glanced up and found him already looking at you over the edge of his book. Not smiling. Not teasing. Just staring with a softness so startling it felt like your heart tripped over itself. “You know,” he said lightly, “I think you're becoming difficult.” You blinked. “Difficult?” “Mm.” He tilted his head. “I find myself wondering where you are when you're gone.” Silence. Then: “It's very inconvenient.”

When your relationship actually started, it wasn't romantic in the way stories described. There was no sweeping confession beneath stars. No dramatic kiss. Qifrey simply sat beside you outside one morning while you watched clouds drift overhead and asked, “Would you hate it if I stayed beside you like this for a very long time?” You stared at him because what kind of question was that? And when you looked over, expecting his usual playful expression, he looked almost nervous. Qifrey. Nervous. You remembered thinking the world had briefly tilted sideways. “...No,” you answered quietly. “I don't think I'd hate that.” And his smile afterward was so bright and genuine it felt unfair.

The issue appeared almost immediately after that. Not because Qifrey crossed boundaries, he didn't, but because relationships seemed to come with invisible expectations attached. Hands finding hands. Casual touches. Leaning against shoulders. You tried not to think about it at first. Tried to ignore the twisting feeling in your chest whenever you imagined disappointing him. But Qifrey noticed. Of course he noticed. One afternoon he reached absentmindedly toward your arm while laughing at something Coco said, and you flinched so hard it looked as though you'd narrowly avoided being struck. The movement froze both of you. The room suddenly felt terribly quiet. Qifrey slowly lowered his hand. Not hurt. Not angry. Just watching you carefully.

Later, after everyone had gone inside, he found you sitting outside near the garden fence. You expected questions. Maybe concern. Instead, Qifrey sat down several feet away—not beside you, not close enough to crowd you. Just near enough. “Can I ask something?” he said softly. You nodded. He looked toward the sky rather than at you. “When people touch you...” A pause. “Does it frighten you?” The question sat there between you. Not why are you like this? Not what happened? Just that. Your throat tightened unexpectedly. “Sometimes.” You hated how small your voice sounded. “Sometimes I know it's irrational and I still can't stop it.” Silence followed. Long enough that panic started creeping in. Then Qifrey said, very simply, “Okay.” Just okay. Like he was accepting the weather. Like he wasn't asking you to justify it.

For a while afterward, things became strangely careful. Not awkward exactly—Qifrey was too skilled with people for awkwardness; but careful. He would announce himself before stepping close behind you. Ask, “Can I sit here?” even when there was plenty of room. Sometimes he held out his hand jokingly and said, “Permission request pending,” with ridiculous solemnity. It made you laugh despite yourself. He never acted frustrated. Never acted deprived. But occasionally you'd catch tiny moments: Qifrey reaching toward you absentmindedly before stopping himself. Seeing something flicker across his face before he hid it behind a smile. And guilt began creeping under your skin because you knew Qifrey was affectionate by nature. He touched shoulders, ruffled hair, draped himself over friends without thought. Around you, he folded himself smaller.

Eventually the conflict exploded in the dumbest way possible—which somehow made it hurt worse. It happened after a long, exhausting day while helping the children practice magic. Everyone had been frustrated and tired. Coco had nearly set something on fire. Agott was arguing. Tetia was laughing. Chaos. Pure chaos. By evening your nerves already felt stretched thin. Qifrey approached from behind while speaking, probably intending only to lean over your shoulder and point at something—and instinct struck before thought did. You jerked away sharply and snapped, “Can you not?” The words came out harder than intended. Sharper. Qifrey froze. Completely froze. And for the first time since you'd known him, his smile disappeared all at once.

“Right,” he said quietly. Too quietly. “Sorry.” That was it. No teasing. No recovery. He walked away before you could answer. The silence afterward felt unbearable. You found him later near the edge of the grounds beneath the trees, staring out into darkness. “I didn't mean—” you started. “I know.” His voice was gentle, but somehow that hurt more. “I know you didn't.” He finally looked at you and smiled, except it looked tired around the edges. “But I think...” He hesitated. “I think I've become so focused on not frightening you that I've started feeling afraid too.” Your chest tightened painfully. “Afraid?” “Of guessing wrong.” A laugh escaped him, small and humorless. “Of making you uncomfortable. Of becoming something you have to endure.”

You stared at him because suddenly you understood. This wasn't only your fear anymore. Somewhere along the way, Qifrey had started walking on invisible glass around you too. Slowly, carefully, terrified of breaking something. And the realization made your eyes sting. “I don't endure you,” you said immediately. “Qifrey, I don't.” He looked startled. So you kept talking before courage disappeared. “I'm scared all the time, okay? Sometimes for no reason. Sometimes even when I don't want to be. And I hate it because...” Your voice cracked slightly. “Because I want things with you. I want to be close to you. I just don't know how.” Silence followed. Wind moved softly through the trees. Then Qifrey's expression softened in a way that nearly undid you.

Very slowly, very carefully, he lowered himself to sit beside you—not touching, just close. “Then,” he said quietly, “we'll learn.” You looked at him. “Learn?” He smiled, small and warm and utterly himself again. “You're not a puzzle to solve.” A pause. “And I'm not going anywhere.” Then he held out his hand between you, palm upward, leaving a ridiculous amount of space for retreat. “No pressure.” You stared at it for several seconds. Then several more. And finally—heart pounding—you moved your hand forward and placed your fingertips lightly against his. Barely touching. Hardly anything at all. Qifrey looked down at your hands and went completely still. Not because it was dramatic. Not because it was some grand romantic moment. But because somehow, instinctively, he understood exactly what it meant: not here, fixed, cured. Just here. Trying. And for Qifrey, that had always been enough.

The girls are restless today. They decided to study in the living room because it’s a different scenery from their rooms. Since it’s been storming so much these past couple of days, no one has left the atelier and you can tell it’s effecting them.

Qifrey is in the kitchen making tea so you decide to go ask him if you can take the girls for a walk to stretch their legs since it is finally nice out again.

You slide next to your boyfriend and rub your hand up and down his back.

“Hello love,” he smiles down at you. “Need something?”

“I was just curious if I could take the girls out for a walk. They are pretty restless and can’t sit still while practicing.”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea. Go ahead and take them, I’ll stay back here and make a special dinner for them.”

“Thank you!” You cheer before pecking his lips.

He laughs at your eagerness, “Be safe now.”

You walk back to the girls, “Promise!”

The girls are all laying on their backs talking about spells when you get back into the living room. The sight warms your heart but you know they’ll be excited to finally leave the atelier.

“Girls, let’s go for a walk.”

Tetia shoots up, “Finally we can see the outdoors again!”

“You could see it perfectly fine from your window,” Agott points out.

“That’s not the same!” Tetia whines.

“I agree with Tetia,” Coco jumps up in excitement.

“It would be nice to see the sun again,” Richeh adds on while still lying on the ground.

“Leave your stuff here and let’s head out!”

***

The girls wanted to walk along the creek because they claim it’s best place to see a bunch of different animals and plants. What they truly love is walking in the shallow creek and splashing each other.

Getting closer to the creek you can see it’s very flooded from all of the rain that accumulated the past couple of days. So the creek now looks like a flowing river. They won’t be able to go in it now.

You see from the corner of your eye that Coco is about to go run towards the newly created river bank. Placing your hand tightly on her shoulder you begin to tell the girls, “No going into the water today. The current is too strong and the water is too deep so it would send you down the river.”

The girls deflate until Richeh brings up an idea, “How about we collect some flowers for the atelier? We could use some color in there.”

“Good idea Richeh! How about you girls collect a few each and we will see if that’s enough or we need more.”

The girls nod at your response and start to look around the area for flowers. Coco ended up going a little bit down the creek to grab some pink and purple flowers. Agott went back uphill to grab some yellow and orange ones she saw earlier. Richeh is grabbing all different kinds of blue ones that are close to the area you’re standing in. You look around but don’t see Tetia.

“Almost got it!” You hear her voice and lock in on the direction her voice came from. You see her by the river trying to grab white flowers. She is losing her footing since the area is still muddy and wet.

“Tetia stop!” You rush down to her.

She looks up and stops focusing on her stance which makes her lose her balance. She starts to fall towards the water, quickly you reach out and throw her behind you with all the strength you have.

Yet that doesn’t stop you from slipping and smacking your head on a rock that was covered by the water. You don’t feel any pain all you know is that the world went dark.

“MASTER!” Tetia screams which gathers the other’s attention.

They run down in a panic, “What happened!?” Agott asks.

“She pulled my back from the water when I was slipping but she’s stuck in the river!” Tetia points to your body that is being dragged down the river.

“Richeh go get Master Qifrey!” Agott orders and Richeh flies off back to the atelier. Good thing the atelier is a little bit up the hill.

“Agott what do we do!?” Tetia panics as she starts to run after you.

“Let me think!” She pulls out her palm quire and looks through her written spells.

“There was a spell Master Qifrey used when I first met Master Olruggio. He created a water wall, could we do something like that?” Coco explains.

“With the power of the current we’d need a bigger piece of paper to actually stop her. But that might be the only option right now.”

The three of them decide to stagger so every time the water wall would collapse another would be write there making another.

While the girls cast their spells Richeh almost knocks the door off its hinges with how fast she was going.

Qifrey immediately is on guard, “Richeh? What’s the matter?”

“We can talk on the way!” She grabs her masters hand and starts leading him to the creek while explaining what happened.

Damn it. He should have thought about how the girls would want to go to the creek. If he thought about that he would have told you to take them on another path and take them to creek another time. Now you’re paying the price with something that he hates.

Coco, Agott, and Tetia go through many spells but still can’t really stop you.

“It’s not working!” Coco says worryingly.

“Just keep drawing! We need to hold out until Master Qifrey gets here!” Agott yells.

Richeh and Qifrey look at the scene in front of them from a Birds Eye view. He watches as you have no control of your body, you must have hit your head very hard to out this bad.

“Richeh go get the others and make them head to the top of the hill.” Qifrey instructs her.

Richeh nods before grabbing her friends and pointing to their master. Once he sees them run to the top of the hill, he dives down towards you.

This would have been a perfect time for his rain cleaver but in rush out here he didn’t have time to grab it. Now he just has to brave the water because he can’t take too much time drawing a big spell to help because it would either hurt you or make everything worse.

He flies parallel to the water and feels it splash all over him. He groans at the feeling and feels internal panic being this close but he can’t afford to stop. He can’t have you die and have water take something so precious from him.

Qifrey gets closer to you he slips his arms into the water getting them instantly drenched and have his clothes start getting heavier. The feeling is uncomfortable and makes him want to fly away. Instead he focuses on slipping his arms under you and pulling his knees in so his feet are below him so he can push himself off with his sylph shoes.

He pushes off the water sending it spraying everywhere. “I hate you water,” he curses.

When he’s in the air he adjusts his grip on you so he’s holding you bridal style. He flies towards the girls and gently lands on the ground by them.

They come running up to check you over. You’re still breathing but you must be cold and in pain.

“Coco, reach into my bag and pull out the ring Olruggio made.”

Coco moves his cloak aside and grabs the rings then slips them on. She connects the seals and immediately starts drying you and the parts of Qifrey that are wet.

Qifrey hears a sniffle and he looks up to Tetia wiping her tears. “I’m sorry Master Qifrey. I just wanted to grab flowers, I didn’t expect this to happen.” She says between sobs.

He can’t do much for physical comfort at the moment since he’s carrying you so he just settles on using his words for now. “Tetia, of course you didn’t expect this to happen. But you didn’t let the situation stop you from trying to help her. I saw the spells you three were casting so she wouldn’t get completely swept into the current. That takes a lot of strength and focus to do something like that in a stressful situation. You all did good and you should be proud of it.”

“But she got hurt trying to protect me.”

“And she wouldn’t have it any other way. I know she’d prefer one of us masters get hurt over you four. If this scenario would happen again, she’d do the exact same thing. So would Olruggio and I. We are here to protect you all and keep you safe. We will do anything to make that happen.”

“All done,” Coco states after stepping back.

You feel a lot warmer which is good. You start moving in his arms more, you must be about to wake up soon.

“Let’s head back.” Qifrey leads the way and the girls are quick to follow. He feels a little tug at his cloak, turning he realizes it’s Tetia holding onto him. She must still be scared.

When they all get back he places you on his bed and checks you over to make sure you don’t have a wound on the back of your head. He sees that you don’t which makes him happy.

Qifrey then kneels down to Tetia’s height. She looks away from him probably because she thinks she is going to get scolded.

“Tetia,” he calls out to her.

She turns back to him without saying a word. He smiles before pulling her into a hug. She wraps her arms around him and starts crying into his neck.

“Shhh it’s okay. Let it out, I’m right here. I got you.” He reassures her multiple times.

At their friends’ sadness the girls join the hug and hold on Tetia and their master tightly.

“We are here with you too Tetia.” Coco tells her.

“She’ll be okay,” Agott reassures her too.

“Our master is strong, she’ll wake up soon.” Richeh pitches in.

Qifrey feels his heart soar at the camaraderie these girls share. You would think they’ve known each other their whole lives instead of just a few months.

“Why don’t you all go wash up? I’ll finish making dinner in a bit.”

The girls pull apart and slowly walk out his room turning back once to make sure you didn’t disappear on them. When they got the confirmation they need, they go off to wash up.

Qifrey sits on his bed beside you, “You gave me a fright.”

You open your eyes at the sound of a familiar voice. But last thing you remember is being cold and wet. You’re warm and comfortable now. What happened?

“There’s those pretty eyes.”

Blinking away the blurriness you see Qifrey watching you carefully.

“Hey.”

“Hello.”

You sit but feel your head throb. You hold your head in your hands and Qifrey is quick to push you back down.

“You’ll have a killer headache for a bit but there’s no greater damage. We should be lucky.”

“I feel like I just got hit by a pegasus carriage,” you groan.

“I bet you do.”

“Are the girls okay?”

Qifrey nods, “Nothing happened to them. They are shaken up especially Tetia.”

“That sweet girl is probably kicking herself isn’t she.”

“You know them well my love.”

Smiling at the nickname, “They mean the world to me.”

“I feel the same.” He pushes himself off the bed, “Let me go make you some tea and bring you some soup.”

He walks out of his room and heads the kitchen where the girls are already sitting in their seats.

Qifrey makes tea for everyone and opens the magic pot and pours some soup into a bowl.

“Tetia?” She perks up at her name being called. “Would you like to bring this to her?”

“She’s awake?”

“Yes.”

“Will she… will she want to see me?”

Qifrey puts a hand on her back and guides her to his room, “Believe me, she does.”

The young girl nods before carrying the tray into his room. She sees you lying down as she walks in. As she gets closer you sit up with help from Qifrey. Once you’re situated she places the tray into your lap.

“Master-“

“Thank you Tetia.”

“But I-“

“Tetia, come sit by me.” You pat the bed by you. She crawls onto the bed and sits next to you. “Let’s share some tea okay?”

“Uh okay.” You pour glasses of tea for everyone once you realized there was a whole crowd in here. You obviously don’t mind, you just don’t want to leave anyone out.

You pass Tetia her cup last, “I know you’re upset and scared right now but there is no reason for you to be. I am not mad at you nor will I ever. I should have been paying more attention to the ground around me, it was an accident nothing more.”

She nods in understanding because she finally gets that you and Qifrey aren’t mad at her.

“Hey. Can you show me that pretty smile of yours?” You ask. At the compliment she unknowingly smiles, “There’s my girl.”

Everyone finishes their tea and you send them to the kitchen to eat their meal. The girls wanted to eat with you but you wanted them to actually have space to eat and you still felt woozy so you didn’t want to sit up and walk around.

You did promise them that they could come back in here once they were done. As you took your last bite the girls came bursting back in and laid in Qifrey’s bed.

They talked about all kinds of different things. Flowers, spells, clothes, dreams, and anything they could possibly imagine.

Time flew by now it’s late into the night and the girls are sleeping on Qifrey’s bed while you to sit against the headboard watching them breathe evenly as they sleep.

“Long day for them, they fell asleep so fast.”

“They tend to fall asleep quickly after days like this,” Qifrey pulls you into his side. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. My head still hurts a bit but I feel good. Especially since they are comfortably with no pain.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Sleeping for us is going to be hard though.”

You giggle followed by a heavy sigh, “Yeah. Our backs will hurt tomorrow.”

“Better ours than theirs.”

“I agree.” You turn to him, “Thank you for saving me.”

He looks down at you, “I always will.”

“I know but you had to deal with water and I feel bad for that.”

“My fear of water gets trampled by the fear of losing you.”

You feel your face redden and your words get caught in your throat by his calm response.

You bury yourself into his side and hold to his frame tightly. “Thank you,” is all you manage to say.

He kisses the top of your head, “No need to thank me. I’ve told you that since we were kids.”

“I’m not going to never thank you again. It’s basic manners.”

“I know but when you thank me it always feels heavy.”

“Sorry.”

Qifrey trails his finger up and down your arm, “Don’t apologize either.”

“I love you.”

“Now that I will never turn down hearing.” He tilts your head up, “I love you too.” He kisses the tip of your nose before pulling you into a kiss.