Chilchuck X Reader - Tumblr Posts

𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐆

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 : falin, chilchuck (separately)

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 : a spell from a mysterious witch you encountered in the dungeon turned you into a frog, now what will your crush do when presented your circumstance?

𝐚/𝐧 : this idea came to me and i couldn’t just ignore it. princess and the frog is my fave disney movie of all time and this fits so well with dunmeshi. if people request it, i might just make a pt. 2! <3

↳ 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐍

that damned witch, you thought. after already having a troubling day in the dungeon, this encounter was the icing on the cake. now you were a little, slimey frog with no way to properly defend yourself from monsters. you were just lucky that marcille had saw what had happened and picked you up, but not without much reluctance on even touching you.

despite her disgust, she had tried her best to find a spell that could change you back to normal, but to no avail. there weren’t even any hints left behind by the witch once on how to change you back, that just made your mood even worse. now you were stuck being a frog until the spell wore off and you were in a bad mood, just great.

but, luckily, there was another person in your party that knew magic just as well as marcille.

as marcille placed you down on the cobblestone floors, you were presented with falin’s body sitting right in front of you. she looked so beautiful even after having fought for her life just mere minutes ago, if you were human right now you’re sure you would be stumbling over your words just to say hello to her.

but as you lost in your thoughts, the blonde haired girl inched her body closer to get a better look at you. normally falin’s eyes would remain nearly completely closed because of her near-sightedness, but because you were so close to her face there was no need to. her amber eyes fixed themselves on you, observing your new form. “oh, [name]. you got yourself mixed up with a witch, huh?”

then her lips turned down into a frown and her eyes closed again as she spoke. “poor thing. i wish there was a spell i knew that could reverse this…”

without falin having a clue on how to help you, you were beginning to lose hope. were you going to be stuck as a frog for the rest of this adventure in the dungeon? you would rather not have to be killed and revived just to gain your regular body back, but that may just be the only option.

apparently, the girl could tell you were upset too. falin didn’t want to let you down, and she surely didn’t want you to go through the pain of having to be killed then revived. there weren’t any more logical ways she could think of that would turn you back, but there was unordinary one that might just work. “hey, i know! how about a kiss?”

the idea made your eyes widened. was falin really that comfortable with giving a frog a kiss? especially if that frog was in fact you? then she spoke again, “i can tell you’re apprehensive, but think about it. in fairy tales, the princess gives the frog prince a kiss to turn him back into a human! maybe it could work for you too. would you like to try it?”

with no other ideas, this was your last chance to become normal again, so you gave her a nod. “okay then, here it goes.” she said, then brought her face closer to your body.

and with that, falin placed a gentle kiss on top of your head. it felt like you were floating on cloud nine with how fast your thoughts were spinning around in your mind, and your heart was beating just as fast. if you were human at that moment, you’re sure you would be blushing.

then a bright flash appeared in your vision, nearly blinding you. you could feel your body changing it’s form again, it was such an odd sensation. but finally, you were back to your normal self. backing away from falin, you felt yourself with your hands, making sure what you were seeing was real. and thank goodness it was. “oh, it worked!” falin said happily, clasping her hands together.

without much thought, you threw your arms around the girls neck, bringing her into a tight hug. “thank you so much, falin! what would i do without you!” you exclaimed, happy to finally be back in your own body. falin giggled along with you as she reciprocated the embrace.

after a moment, you pulled back. “wait, falin, aren’t the kisses in fairy tales supposed to be a true love’s kiss?” you asked curiously.

she blushed a little at your question, then smiled shyly. “i suppose they are.”

and you couldn’t help but smile back at her. “good.”

↳ 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐂𝐊

“the hell?!”, he yelled as marcille shoved you into his hands.

the elf backed away from him as soon as you were safely sat on his palms, then used a rag to quickly wipe her hands off. “[name] got turned into a frog by that evil witch lady we saw earlier! i tried to turn them back by using magic, but the spell i tried didn’t end up working.” she said as she kept cleaning her hands, having to carry a frog around was definitely not on her to-do list for the day.

then suddenly marcille glanced up from her hands to speak to chilchuck, a giddy grin on her face. “you should try kissing them, like in the story books! a true love’s kiss should break the spell on them.”

the idea alone made him recoil away farther from her, you still in his hands. yes, he wanted to kiss you. of course he did, but he would rather do it under better circumstances. “are you kidding me?! no way!”

marcille held a serious expression as she looked at him, it almost freaked him out. “chilchuck, you’re the only hope we have to turn [name] back to normal. we have no other ideas and the whole group knows that the two of you like each other as more than friends.”

chilchuck nearly had a stroke at what the elf girl had just said, his widened with bewilderment at this new discovery. was he really that oblivious?“how’d you know?”, he couldn’t help but ask.

izutsumi, having heard the whole conversation from her perch, piped up with a brash remark. “how can you not tell? you make it painfully obvious. it makes me wanna barf.”, then she made a mock retching noise to mess with the half-foot even more.

with a glare, chilchuck glanced over at the young girl. “i wasn’t asking you, izutsumi.”

then he looked back at you in his hands, still hesitant. this is genuinely going to be one of the grossest things i’ve ever done, he thought. and that would be comparing this situation to everything he’s encountered in the dungeon, but he would rather take the chance to turn you back to normal right now than have you stuck like this until you could be revived. “screw it.” and with that quick mutter, he went for it.

the kiss was slimey and rather unpleasant, most definitely not the type of first kiss he wanted to share with you. it was just a simple forehead kiss but he felt like his heart was racing a mile a minute from the act of affection. never in a million years would he ever think that he would have the guts to fall in love with one of his party members, after all it was he that insisted that interpersonal relationships within the party would cause issues. but with you, it just felt different.

and within the moment of that thought, a bright light emitted from his hands. next thing he knew, your body was back to it’s regular size. as you groggily opened your eyes and let out a groan, chilchuck deduced that you must have completely blacked out after the spell had been cast on you. he couldn’t help but let out a short chuckle out at this, so you wouldn’t remember the kiss, huh? “ha! it actually worked.”

through your blurry vision, you could see the green neck-warmer chilchuck always wore which brought you much confusion. why were you in his arms? and what exactly had happened? the last thing you remembered was passing out after a spell had hit you. so the only word you could get out was, “…what?”

the half-foot smiled knowingly at you, he couldn’t wait to see the expression on your face once marcille spilled the beans on what exactly had happened once you took a rest. “nothing.”

@𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 - please do not translate or copy my works.

So we know Chilchuck says that interparty romance is a terrible thing, but what if it happened to him? Would he just ignore his feelings until he basically explodes? I feel like he'd probably just not do anything on it, since he's seen first-hand how it destroys a party.

Chilchuck.. daddy kink.. he's a dad.. 😖

Spoilers for the anime! (Episode 18)

During the shapeshifter episode, imagine if Chilchuck and his s/o in the party both had exact replicas of the other, making it nearly impossible for Laios to tell them apart and he needs the help of Senshi and Marcille or sm.

Me whenever I wake up

HOME (TO THE OL’ BALL AND CHAIN)

(OR, THE PIÑA COLADA SONG)

Pairing: Chilchuck Tims x Fem!Chilchuck's Wife!Reader Word Count: 2,499 words Warnings: None Summary: Five years after leaving your first and only love, you take the plunge into the dating scene – and immediately regret it. Maybe you're too picky, but none of the men you go out with seem to fit the bill; they're too non-committal, or too eager, or too happy, or too sad, or simply just too much ... so after a particularly bad experience, your youngest makes a last-ditch effort to set you up on a blind date with someone who she insists deserves a chance. You reluctantly agree. read on ao3 | read on quotev

DATE #1: CASUAL LUNCH Estranged husband — 1 Estranged wife — 1 Everything left unsaid — as desired

There’s bacon grease on his shirt.

You can see it underneath his collar, round fingerprints staining the pale linen grey, and when he leans across the threshold into Fler’s home all you can think about is laundry day at the end of the week.

It would be rude to admit that out loud, though.

“Thank you for walking me home,” you say.

“When can I see you again?”

“I don’t know.”

Abelwood teeters forward still. “Well, don’t take too long, hear? You ain’t gettin’ any younger.”

Laughter erupts from the beer in his gut, and you laugh along with him. Abelwood is a rowdy drunk, you’ve learned, which is better than a cruel drunk or a lecherous drunk. It is not the kind of drunk that you are used to bringing home, even if he is only brought to the front door, but –

You smile, regardless.

“Goodnight,” you bid, closing the door inch by inch, your last bit of energy disappearing with the click of the lock.

You hold your breath. It takes three minutes and thirty-seven seconds for the man to leave your front doorstep, and you wait thirty more seconds after that to peek through the window, verifying that he is far enough away before resting your forehead against the door with a groan.

“Oh, boy.”

“I’m too old for this, Fler,” you mutter into the wood. “He was awful.”

Flertom lets out a sigh and closes the distance to squeeze you in a hug, pressing her cheek against your back like she’s done ever since she grew tall enough to do so. “I’m sorry, Mama,” she says.

“I’m sorry too.”

As you pat her hands and turn around to smile wryly at her, Puckpatti pipes up from the middle of the living room.

“He was a pig,” she exclaims. “Calling you by your first name! And he wasn’t even that handsome!”

“Looks aren’t everything, Puck,” you reply sharply, and she pouts, squeezing the lump of clay in her hands until it squishes out between her fingers. “He was a pig for the way he acted.”

“Well … that too.”

“He also smelled like one,” Fler says.

You detach yourself from your daughter to loosen the belt at your waist, frowning down at your dress and nice leather shoes. The dress feels just about as worn out as you do, the fabric soft and droopy from the humidity, the sunshine-yellow color less vibrant than it had been earlier this evening. The man had spilled beer on the floor of the bar and your shoes still look slightly sticky. Peeling them off just reminds you of the way he had laughed.

“Fler,” you say, “get me a wet rag, would you?”

“Sure, Mama.” Flertom turns to Puckpatti. “Puck, get a wet rag.”

“My hands are all dirty!” your youngest protests, showing her grey palms. “Mei’s closer to the water bucket.” She points to Meijack, who you now notice lingering by the kitchen.

Meijack blinks slowly, then silently fetches a rag, wets it, and brings it to you.

“Are you gonna keep trying, Ma?” she asks while you scrub the heel of your left shoe. “All these guys seem to be wasting your time.”

The chuckle that leaves your mouth is short and dry. “After this one, I don’t think so.” You glance up at your daughters and smile, straightening. “Maybe I should just take you all out on a girls’ date next time, huh? Forget about men for a little while.”

Meijack shrugs. Puckpatti nods eagerly.

“I just don’t know what’s wrong,” Flertom frets. “I’ve seen most of them at work before, and they seemed nice enough even when they were drunk …”

You shrug hopelessly and cross into the living room to sit on the couch. “Maybe it’s me.” As you lean back into the cushions, Meijack and Flertom join you on either side. “I’ve only ever been with one man my whole life. Maybe I don’t even know what I want …”

There’s a moment of silence. You look up at the ceiling of Flertom’s home, rubbing your temples and willing your frustration with yourself to not spill over while your daughters are watching. How embarrassing. Here you are, their mother, who is supposed to show them an example of a happy relationship, only for them to comfort you after another failed date. It should be the other way around. Half-foots don’t live long enough for things like this; your own mother had told you when you first left him that you should’ve just sucked it up.

Finally, Flertom speaks up. “Mama,” she starts, hesitant, and you look over to see her playing with her fingers, “Do you really want to date someone?”

“It’s been long enough, don’t you think?” you answer.

As you say so, a name resurfaces in your mind, unbidden, and the face that belongs to it. Your jaw tightens and you look down at your hands.

“Well … um … Papa wrote last week, and he said that he wanted to talk to you sometime. Just a little bit.”

Your tone hardens. “And what does that have to do with me dating, Fler?”

She flinches and her lips push out. “Come on, Mama! It’s been years, and after everything he went through, I really think he’s better now! Don’t you at least want to talk to him? You were so in love with each other before he started adventuring, and now that he’s retired from it …”

You hold your hand up, and her jaw clicks shut.

“I know what you’re getting at, Flertom,” you say quietly. “And right now is not the best time to bring up your father.”

Your daughter deflates, her cheeks rosy. “But –”

“I mean it.” Standing, you heave a deep breath and examine the cluttered workstation that Puckpatti had set up on the living room table. “Puckpatti, make sure to clean up after you’re done. I’m going to bed.”

While the girls mope, you head to your bedroom, doing your best to occupy your thoughts with work at the blacksmith’s tomorrow. You think about the chain mail you’re supposed to be making, the little metal rings to form and weave together, and hope they’re what you dream of, not self-absorbed dates or unwanted kisses.

You blame Flertom for the auburn hair and hearty laughs that plague your night instead.

—

A week later, Puckpatti accosts you as soon as you walk through the door.

“Mama, I found a man for you!”

“Oh?” you reply blandly, hand still clutching at your chest from having the living daylights scared out of it. “Who is it?”

“That’s a secret! But he’s really nice, I promise.”

Sighing, you remove your vest. “I don’t know, Puck. How did you meet him?”

“He bought one of my clay sticks.” You can’t stop yourself from frowning, despite your desire to support your daughter’s entrepreneurial spirit, and she giggles. “Oh, please, Mama, he didn’t believe my pitch. I think I just charmed him into buying it. He seems really clever!”

“Are you sure he wasn’t interested in you?”

She makes a disgusted face. “Eww! No, I told him about you and he seemed interested.”

“Oh, really?”

“Mama, you’re a catch. Of course he’d want to go on a date with you.”

“That’s sweet of you to say, honey.” You glance at her before heading to the kitchen to put away the bread and cheese you’d bought. “Is he a half-foot?”

“Maybe.”

“I thought I’d met all the half-foots in Kahka Brud.”

“Maybe he just moved here.”

She looks up innocently when you raise an eyebrow at her. “And you’re sure I’ll like him,” you drawl, more suspicious by the minute. (Of what, you’re not quite sure.)

“Positive.”

It is incredibly difficult, you think with equal parts pride and concern, to say no to your youngest daughter. It’s probably why you worry about her the most. “This is the last date I’ll go on, Puckpatti. It will be on you.”

Puckpatti cheers. She hugs you as you chuckle at her enthusiasm, jumping up and down. “Yay! I’ll get a time and day that’ll work best. It’ll be great! You’ll love him!”

“For your sake, I hope so.”

—

The day arrives with a mellow sun and clear sky.

You wear your green dress with the floral details, and Puckpatti picks a necklace to go along with it, a thin, simple one that you haven’t worn in years. Flertom does your makeup and Meijack does your hair.

And as you sit in a corner of the tavern fifteen minutes early, hands nervously clasped in your lap, you wonder, just as you have with every date prior, what you’ve gotten yourself into.

Maybe he won’t show up. It would be improper, and juvenile, but then you could go home and say that you did try. Your desire for a new romance has all but dwindled completely, and as you trace the scratches on the wooden table, you wonder if it was even a desire at all.

Footsteps approach from behind. You can tell they belong to a half-foot by the weight and sound – light and small – as they come around to the other side of the table. Your shoulders tighten. Forcing a smile, you look up.

Your heart promptly surges upward into your throat before plummeting to your toes.

Chilchuck gawks down at you, eyes wide. His mouth parts to utter your full name, and you feel your lungs squeeze at how it sounds coming from him, soft from years of disuse.

“You came,” he says.

“Chil – Chilchuck.” His name is ashy and sweet behind your teeth. “What are you doing here?”

He furrows his brow. “What do you mean? The girls said that you were willing to meet up.”

“No, I’m meeting with one of Puck’s customers.”

“What? That doesn’t …” he trails off, and the two of you seem to realize the same thing at the same time.

You bury your head in your hand as Chilchuck grits his teeth.

Those scheming …

“I’m sorry they dragged you into this,” you mutter as you get up from your seat, your voice cold and flat. “I’ll be going now.”

His head snaps up. “Going? But –”

You hurry past him, dodging the hand that you know has reached out for your own.

Home is a ten-minute walk away. You can clear your head in that time, then scold your daughters for meddling, though it’s partially your fault for not questioning Puckpatti about your supposed date more thoroughly. You just didn’t think that they would try something like this.

(Or that Chilchuck would bother to go along with it.)

You pull the door open with some effort and rush out into a downpour of rain.

Your hair gets drenched before you backpedal with a yelp. Pressing against the wall underneath the awning, you look out helplessly at the soaked streets, their gutters already filling with water and debris flowing down the incline. Is … is that a drowning rat?

The storm’s earthiness floods your nose, late in its prediction by half an hour. Just your luck.

You fumble with the clasp of your necklace to remove it, not wanting to get it wet. While you struggle, the tavern door creaks open behind you.

“So you don’t even want to talk. Even after all these years, you’re going to walk away again.”

“Do you know why I walked away the first time?” The damn thing won’t unhook. You scowl, the presence at your back making your usually nimble fingers clumsy.

“No,” Chilchuck says. “I don’t. Not for certain.”

“That’s why.” With each failed attempt to separate the rings, your fingertips grow sorer, your throat thickening. He’s too close. You hate how he’s watching you fail such a simple task. “You stopped knowing, Chilchuck. That’s why.”

Underneath the sharp sound of rain, you can hear his breath hitch, then quiet.

You bite your lip and let your arms fall to your sides, giving up on trying to take your necklace off. Your chest aches. You don’t want to cry in front of him.

“So, there, we talked like you wanted.”

He stops you before you can step out into the rain.

“Wait. What … what about your necklace?” he asks hesitantly, like it’s not what he really wants to say, but merely a way to stall for time.

This time, you look over your shoulder at him. “I’ll dry it real well once I get home,” you reply.

Chilchuck’s mouth presses into a fine line. He grabs the cloak folded over the crook of his elbow, and it is then that you notice the bouquet of blue and pink flowers in his other hand. The ache in your chest flares into a raw, pulsing hurt.

“I’m guessing you’d rather not have me walk you.” He speaks evenly, holding his cloak out towards you. “It’s not completely waterproof, but keep this over your head, at least …” his voice quiets, “please.”

Wordlessly, you take the garment from him. The inner lining is warm against your skin.

“I’m sorry,” he tells you. “For not knowing.” His fist tightens around the flowers, and he stares at you resolutely. “I want to again, if you’ll let me.”

Ah.

You swallow. “I … I don’t know.”

“It doesn’t have to be today. I can wait.”

Breaking eye contact and looking down, Chilchuck roughs his fingers through his hair, mussing it up. The cut is the same as it’s always been, auburn bangs thick and soft over his brow. And you recognize the shirt he’s wearing, a practical, clean wool shirt that you made some years ago. He’s taken good care of it.

It’s all the same. All the same, and yet, something that you can’t quite identify has changed.

You bring his cloak closer to your chest and bite your bottom lip.

“… Give me a week.”

His entire body loses its tension.

“Really?” He looks at you like he can’t believe it, and you avert your gaze, ears warming and moving back the slightest bit.

“Give me a week to decide,” you clarify. “Fler or Mei will let you know … this is really abrupt, after all …”

Chilchuck nods. “That’s fine!” he exclaims. “You didn’t know, so I understand. A week is – a week’s good.”

You nod back, hesitant.

The rain continues its heavy downpour.

“Right … well …” you turn slightly, casting him one last glance, “I’ll give your cloak back, regardless. Don’t get sick.”

“Okay. Stay … stay safe.”

With that, you wrap yourself in the thick fabric, rushing out of the safety of the awning. The run back home smells of woodsmoke and thyme, and when you open the door to three guilty daughters and three apologies, it lingers.

You hang his cloak near the fireplace. It’s evidence of a weak resolve that you stay until it’s dry, and even more damning that you know your answer long before it is.