#But learning and paying attention to details and seeing just how close I can from within the constraints of my own abilities >:3c It's fun!

[sysig]

Wander-ful! (Patreon)

[petalbcrnes]

oh, i’ve been gone for a few days, but !!! i have a little something for you guys <3 changing up my post’s styles a bit. i’d like to focus on headcanons and small imagines from now on. (dw my series won’t disappear). i just want to try something new! 🌷

a/n: not proofread, this work is sfw. have fun reading. MASTERLIST HERE !!

✹ ꕀ 𝐉𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐎𝐃𝐃 : ‘ 𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝖻𝗈𝗒𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽? ’ ( ✦ )

( ✦ ) In a few words, to describe a relationship with Jason Todd would be a fever dream, a reverie you didn't even know you were in until those sea-green eyes hit you like waves; you find yourself wanting to lose yourself in this dream.

Despite being a man with a reputation of a rather not-so-savory kind, he unexpectedly shows the most softness and tenderness for his partner out of all the Bat-boys.

೯⠀⁺ ⠀ 𖥻 ⠀. ᰋ .. 🪻

JASON TODD loves quietly. He's subtle with his affections. The fact he loves you will be shown in the small details that collect over time. You don't even notice it at first. He's not used to expressing his feelings in a way that's obvious to the fleeting eye. Only someone who pays attention would see how utterly devoted your boyfriend is to you.

It's the way Jason always has a hand on the surface of your back or waist, guiding you through crowds or holding you while cooking in the kitchen. The touch serves as a safety net for you and a chain that connects the two of you. He needs you close to him. Your presence in the early morning or even in the busy streets of Gotham City has him feeling even calmer.

Jason devotes himself to learning everything about you. He silently watches you when you talk about the things you enjoy. It's a soothing sound to his ears. He makes sure to keep any important detail you mentioned tucked away in his mind.

The specific drink you like at that coffee place you've grown attached to, that book you've been reading (he's picked it up too, he wants to talk about it with you), what temperature you enjoy your tea, the route you take during your day—do you want that pretty ceramic cup he saw at the shop? He thinks you would. He's getting it for you, because when you're happy—he is too.

🗨️: Sorry, I talk too much.

J: But I want to hear you.

There are moments in your relationship when the confidence Jason tried to show you slowly crumbles around you. He doesn't realize that it's the walls he has built around himself finally disappearing when he's with you.

It's shown in the way he sleeps soundly next to you. The way your touch doesn't send spikes through his skin. The way he's more open talking with you. It comes to him naturally—talking with you all night, words slipping past his lips that he wouldn't trust anyone else with.

Acts of service is an important part of a relationship with Jason. He's up before you are. The hot cup of your favorite drink sits steaming on the counter. He's already fussing around the kitchen, trying to cook up a meal for you. (Keyword, trying. I don't have much faith in his cooking, and neither does he.) He's the first to go out for groceries. His hands are always full of the bags you carry. No matter how many times you reassure him you're okay on your own, he shakes his head. He's doing this because he wants to.

🗨️: It's okay. I can carry them.

J: No, no. It's okay. While we're at it, give me that bag you're holding in your left hand, looks heavy.

🗨️: You literally have five bags already!

He has a habit of resting his head on your shoulder or placing his chin on top of your head when he’s tired. He’ll murmur something like “Five more minutes, babe” if you try to move.

I already mentioned in a previous post that you two are not only lovers. Friends to lovers is the romance I see Jason being in. You're his best friend, and he's yours. You're the first one he looks for in a room because you're the only one who really knows him—in and out. He's Jason Todd to the rest of the world, but to you, he's your Jay. The Jay you met and slowly became friends with. The Jay you spent hours huddled away in a library with. You two discuss books non-stop in hushed whispers. Those whispers slowly turned into something even bigger, something that settled deep in your bones.

Jason adores physical touch, but only from you. He’s the kind of guy who acts grumpy about PDA but will still pull you into his lap when you least expect it. Forehead kisses, temple kisses, pulling you closer by the waist when someone walks too close to you—those are his specialties.

Dates include, you guessed it, library dates, that cozy restaurant you two found, the park during the evening, the homey feel of your shared apartment at midnight while a cheesy romance movie plays in the background, late-night walks around the busy streets while the kaleidoscopic colors of the city dance across your figures. It's all very saccharine sweet and simply soft.

The pet names I see Jason using are: a classic babe, pipsqueak (a more teasing one), a shortened version of your name, and pretty.

Jason isn’t a fan of social media, but he keeps a private account just to follow you. He never posts, never likes anything, but he’s always watching. If you post a picture of yourself, he’ll send a text: “You’re beautiful, you know that?”

Might be surprising to some, but he's a big gossiper. He's talking about everyone and everything with you. It's a monthly talk you guys have. Basically, gossip buddies.

Arguments are rare with Jason. I've already mentioned that love with him is a process of boundaries and promises to take things slow. I think the two of you don't cross any lines.

Even if something happens, he cannot bear to get mad at you. You're his person, his other half. It ends with apologies, and he needs to be in your presence for the next few days (like a cat with separation anxiety, following you from room to room).

God forbid someone threatens you in any way. Which in itself is rare, because of the automatic scary boyfriend privileges you have. Though, if someone is foolish enough to try, all you need is to give Jason permission, and the person is getting into big trouble.

He likes to write little notes for you. Slipping them into your book, sticking them on the bathroom mirror, or tucking them into your pocket. They range from “Don’t forget to eat” to “You looked so pretty this morning, I almost forgot how to breathe.”

He walks you to class. Shyly, he takes your hand in his and has a small celebration in his mind that he managed to do it. Off you two go, strolling through the campus as if it's your own world.

I think Jason would playfully tease you too. He's your best friend and now boyfriend. It's a requirement now. That's where the pipsqueak pet name comes from. He enjoys your reactions, the little huffs of exasperation or the way you try (and fail) to glare at him.

If he ever catches you crying, Jason immediately goes into comfort mode. He might not always have the right words, but his arms are strong, his voice is gentle, and he’ll hold you as long as you need.

🗨️: You don’t have to stay with me. I’ll be okay.

J: I know you will. But I want to be here.

Jason is so in love with you, it’s ridiculous.

But at the end of the day, despite all the teasing, all the quiet acts of love, all the soft whispers and quiet mornings, Jason Todd is just a man who loves you with everything he has. And he always will.

♥︎ . .. ♥︎ .. 🌷 ♥︎

© petalbcrnes | all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are not allowed to be reposted, translated, or modified.

[sturnioz]

fratboy!chris finds one of shy!reader’s books — it has some interesting paragraphs. requested by. @issysh3ll

chris isn't nosy—at least, not all the time.

he minds his own business and he whole-heartedly expects you to do the same exact thing for him. but now he's alone in your bedroom, boredom creeping in as he waits for you to finish your shower.

you mentioned something about wanting to freshen up, but he didn't really pay attention — he didn't really care.

but as he waits, his gaze drifts around your room, disinterested, until it lands on a book that peeks out from beneath your fluffy pillow.

he prods his cheek with his tongue as he grabs it, planning to toss it onto the bedside table. but he catches a glimpse at the cover, and his eyes narrow at the sight of a half-naked man pressed against a woman's body.

a little intrigued, he leans back against the pillow, flipping mindlessly through the pages. his expression immediately shifts from boredom to disbelief as he reads the explicit details and phrases, and a laugh of disbelief escapes him, followed by a smirk as he shakes his head and rubs at his jaw — completely engrossed in the content that he fails to notice you've just finished your shower.

"w-what are you doing?!" you blurt out, panic flooding your voice as you stand in the doorway, wrapped in a towel. your skin glistens, and your damp hair clings to you, but you can't focus on that. all you can think about is the book in chris' hands.

"you readin' all this, kid?" chris asks with a teasing tone. "a lil' bedtime erotica for the secret freak?"

"stop!" the word bursts from your lips, panic and embarrassment surging through you. you feel your face heat up, the warmth spreading down your neck as you nearly trip over your own feet rushing toward the bed.

one hand grips the towel tightly, desperately trying to keep it in place, with the other reaches for the book — but chris is too quick, holding it just out of reach, his smirk growing wider.

"d-don't look at that! put it away!" your heart races, and you can feel tears pricking at the corner of your eyes.

"why? s'you can read it later?" he tilts his head to the side, his tongue wetting his bottom lip. "you touch yourself while you read this shit, kid?"

you cheeks burn hotter, and you feel utterly exposed. the embarrassment is overwhelming, and you're desperate to snatch the book from him, but he holds it high above his head, completely out of reach. in a moment of sheer panic, you climb onto him, your heart pounding as you try to grab the book.

"ain't this what she does in the book?" chris continues his relentless teasing, and you're completely mortified when his words sink in. "how did it go again? 'she straddles him, cagin' him between her thighs—'"

"stop!" you splutter, the humiliation overwhelming you until it feels like the walls are closing in, and you start to pray for the bed to swallow you whole and take you far away from this mortifying situation.

the towel around you feels like it's slipping, and your composure hangs by a thread. your breathing comes in laboured gasps as you frantically search for a way out of this mess — desperately trying to think of an excuse, even though you know there's no reason for that, especially with the book still in his hands.

"i kinda wanna try it, bun," he drawls, his words catching you completely off guard. you furrow your brows, blinking away the tears of humiliation pooling in your eyes as you stare at him in confusion. "wanna... wanna see what y'learned from this lil' book of yours."

you swallow thickly, his tone sending shivers down your spine, and you can't help but feel exposed under his gaze as you whisper, "w-what do you mean?"

he leans back against the headboard, the smirk on his face deepening. "y'know exactly what i mean, bun... been readin' all this shit—gotta have learned a few things, yeah? c'mon... show me."

you're still seated on his lap moments later, but your towel is loosely draped around your hips and your cunt is stuffed full of his cock — light, airy moans escaping your lips as you roll your hips the same way the woman does in the book.

chris' hands slip beneath the towel, palms against your ass, guiding your movements as he grinds up against you, pushing himself deeper into your spongy walls. your head lolls back, gasping as you weakly bounce on his cock, the obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin filling the room along with your high-pitched moans.

"takin' my dick so fuckin' well, bun," chris hisses through clenched teeth. "learned a lot, yeah? keep goin'."

"m'trying!" you whimper, his cock brushing against the spot deep within that has you seeing stars, and your arms curl around his shoulders, gripping him tightly as you drool. "s'too much!"

"too much," chris mocks you quietly with a scoff, a laugh leaving him as his hands gip your supple ass cheeks, helping you bounce on him harder while he thrusts up into you, relishing in the sound of your squeals in his ears. "always gotta do the work f'you, bun... supposed t'be showin' me what you learned."

"ah! ah!" squeaks leave your lips uncontrollably, your pebbled nipples rubbing against his chest with each forceful thrust as he drives his cock deeper into your wet warmth.

the bed creaks beneath you as you muster up the strength to ride him again, bracing your hands on his chest as you lean up, bouncing your hips weakly in time with his thrusts.

"yeah... this what she taught you, bun? the woman in your book?" he grunts as his own hands roam up your spine, digging his fingers into your supple flesh, pulling you down onto him harder — filling and stretching you out completely, hitting all the right spots that have you faltering your movements.

beads of sweat trickle down chris' forehead as his darkened gaze watches you from below, his lips parted with heavy breathes. you whine at the sight, your back arching as your head falls back, the knot in your stomach letting you know how close you are to cumming.

however, you're surprised when chris' arms slip around you and he reaches up, his lips gently licking and nibbling at your nipple — a move you once read in the book and you gasp, the pleasure striking up your spine causing your body to tremble as you slump against him, your own arms tightening around his shoulders and threading your fingers through his hair, cumming around his cock with a cry.

divider credits. @issysh3ll

© STURNIOZ

[pucksandpower]

That’s That Me, Espresso

Charles Leclerc x barista!Reader x Max Verstappen

Summary: Charles Leclerc and Max Verstappen seem determined to fight over the heart of their favorite barista … but soon they learn that sharing can be much more fulfilling

Warnings: 18+ content

You tie the green apron around your waist, smoothing out the wrinkles as you get ready for another day behind the counter. Working as a barista in the paddock club is not where you imagined you’d end up, but it pays the bills. And there are some nice perks — like getting to see the drivers up close when they come in for their daily coffee fix.

Two drivers in particular have caught your attention recently: Charles Leclerc and Max Verstappen.

They started coming in separately a few weeks ago, always ordering the same drink — a latte with an extra shot of espresso for Charles and black coffee for Max. At first it was just polite small talk as you made their drinks, but gradually you’ve gotten to know them both a bit better.

Charles is charming, with an easy smile and a quick wit. He asks you about your day and remembers little details you’ve told him before. Max is more reserved, but has a dry sense of humor that catches you off guard and makes you laugh. You find yourself looking forward to their visits, wondering when you’ll see them next.

It’s another race weekend and the paddock club is buzzing with activity. You’re kept busy with a steady stream of drinks orders. A loud group of sponsors clusters around your counter, loudly debating team strategies. You handle their complicated orders, foaming milk and steaming pitchers like a pro.

As you hand off the last drink, you look up and see Charles walking in. He locks eyes with you and grins.

“Busy today, I see,” he says, sidling up to the counter.

“The usual?” You ask with a smile. Charles nods.

You turn to make his latte, hyperaware of his gaze following you. The espresso machine hisses as you pull his shots. You take your time with the milk, adjusting the froth just so.

“Here you go,” you say, placing the latte in front of him with a flourish. Your fingers brush as he takes it from you. Was that accidental or on purpose? His eyes crinkle at the corners.

“Looks perfect. You always make it just how I like it.” Charles takes a long sip, foam coating his upper lip. He swipes it away with his thumb. “Delicious. I don’t know how I’d get through race day without this.”

You feel your cheeks grow warm at the compliment. Before you can respond, Max walks up to the counter, focused on his phone. He glances up, does a slight double take at seeing Charles already there, then looks back at you.

“Morning,” he says briskly. “The usual, please.”

You nod and turn to make Max’s black coffee. As the coffee drips into the paper cup, you feel the awkward tension behind you. Charles and Max eye each other warily, a silent stand-off you don’t understand. You glance between them nervously as you hand Max his coffee.

“There you go. Enjoy!” Your voice comes out too bright and cheery.

Max takes the coffee without looking away from Charles. “Thanks,” he mutters. They keep staring at each other for a beat too long before Charles clears his throat.

“Well, I should get going. See you around,” he says lightly, with a meaningful look at you.

You nod, perplexed. As soon as Charles is out the door, Max seems to relax.

“So how’s your morning been so far?” He asks, taking a sip of coffee.

You make polite small talk, but your mind keeps going back to the weird tension between him and Charles. What was all that about?

The rest of the day flies by in a blur of foamed milk and espresso. Before you know it, it’s nearly closing time. You’re wiping down the counters when you hear footsteps approach. You look up to see both Charles and Max walking toward you, stopping short when they notice each other.

“You again?” Max frowns at Charles. “Does Ferrari not have their own coffee?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Charles shoots back. He turns to you with an easy grin that doesn’t reach his eyes. “The usual, please?”

You nod uncertainly and set to work making their drinks on autopilot, feeling the heavy weight of them watching your every move. The silence hangs heavy in the air. You can feel the animosity rolling off them in waves.

You finish the drinks and set them on the counter. “Here you go.”

Neither makes a move to take their coffee. The tension coils tighter. You glance between them nervously.

Finally Max turns to Charles. “Why do you keep coming here for coffee? Don’t tell me it’s for the scintillating conversation.”

Charles bristles. “Why do you care where I get my coffee? Unless ...” His eyes narrow. “Are you trying to keep me away from something? Or should I say, someone?”

You freeze. Are they talking about you?

Max scoffs. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m just trying to get my daily coffee in peace.”

“Oh really? You seem to be going out of your way when you could easily get coffee from Red Bull hospitality. Admit it, there’s another reason you keep coming here.” Charles crosses his arms.

“I could say the same about you! Don’t think I haven’t noticed you flirting with her every time you’re in here.”

You nearly drop the rag in your hand. Heat floods your cheeks. They are talking about you.

Charles laughs sharply. “Look who’s talking! The man who makes eyes at her whenever you think I’m not looking.”

“Makes eyes-” Max sputters. “You’re delusional.”

“No, you’re just blind. Anyone can see she likes me better.”

“As if! She obviously prefers me over some pretty boy.”

They’re nearly nose to nose now, fists clenched at their sides. You stand frozen behind the counter, heart hammering in your chest. This can’t be happening.

“Why don’t we let her decide then?” Charles turns to you. “What do you say? Want to settle this once and for all?”

Max whips his head toward you eagerly. You open your mouth but no words come out.

Charles barrels on. “You don’t have to say it out loud. I already know the answer.” He winks at you.

Max makes a disgusted noise. “Don’t listen to him. He’s so full of himself.”

“Better than being full of overhyped energy drinks and bad decisions like you!” Charles shoves Max’s shoulder.

A flicker of rage passes over Max’s face. He shoves back, hard. “Watch yourself, Leclerc.”

Charles stumbles into the counter, jostling your arm. You cry out as the steaming pitcher of milk spills down the front of your apron. Pain scalds your skin. You inhale sharply as the hot milk soaks through your shirt.

Charles grabs a damp dish towel and presses it to your arm. “Let me see.”

You lift the cloth with a wince. An angry red welt is already rising along your forearm.

“That looks bad,” Charles murmurs. “You should get it treated properly.”

Max edges closer, brows drawn together. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry-”

“She needs medical attention,” Charles interrupts. He takes your elbow gingerly. “Come on, I’ll take you to the medical center.”

Max puts a hand on your other arm. “No, I’ll take her. This is my fault.”

Charles tugs you toward him. “Back off, Verstappen. I’ve got this.”

You stumble between them as they play tug-of-war with your arms.

“Stop it!” You cry, wrenching away. They freeze. “You can both take me or I’ll go myself. But I am not a rope in a game of Red Bull versus Ferrari.”

Charles and Max have the decency to look ashamed.

“Of course, sorry,” Charles says quickly. “We’ll take you together.”

Max nods, biting his lip. You follow them from the paddock club to the medical center, cradling your arm. Mercifully they stay silent, the fight drained from them for now.

The medic clucks over your injury, applying a cooling gel and clean bandages. You sag in relief as the medicine soothes the burning. Charles and Max hover anxiously until the medic shoos them away.

“All done,” she announces. “Keep it clean and covered. Should heal in a few days.”

“Thank you.” You slide off the exam table, flexing your freshly wrapped arm.

Charles jumps up immediately. “How’s it feeling now?”

“Much better, thanks.” You offer him a small smile.

Max steps forward. “I’m really sorry about this. Let me make it up to you — can I take you to dinner tonight?”

Charles makes a strangled noise. “You’ve done enough, don’t you think?” He turns to you, expression earnest. “Please, allow me to take you to dinner instead. It’s the least I can do after you got hurt.”

You stare between them incredulously. Are they serious?

“Um, I don’t think-”

“Come on, what do you say?” Max presses. “Dinner, just the two of us.”

Charles crosses his arms. “Don’t listen to him. Let me take you out.”

“You already ruined her day,” Max snaps. “I’m not letting you mess up her evening too.”

Charles bristles. “If anyone ruined it, you did by shoving me into her!”

“I wouldn’t have shoved you if you weren’t being an annoying prick.”

“Obstinate show off!”

“Insecure brat!”

“Enough!” You yell. They fall silent. “This is absurd. You’re both acting like children.”

Charles scuffs his shoe. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Max nods, properly chastised. “Me too. That was stupid.”

You take a deep breath. “If you really want to make it up to me, we’ll do this: you can both take me to dinner. Together. To apologize. Take it or leave it.”

They share an uneasy look but don’t argue. You nod firmly.

“Good. I’ll be outside the paddock club after the race. Come get me then.” You fix them with a stern gaze. “And I expect you to be on your best behavior tonight. No fighting, no bickering. Got it?”

“Got it,” they mumble.

“See you tonight then.” With as much dignity as you can muster, you turn and sweep out of the medical center. You feel their eyes following you as the doors swing shut.

Your breath leaves in a whoosh when you’re alone again. What did you just get yourself into? A tense conciliatory dinner with two drivers who happen to hate each other? This night can only end in disaster.

But a small part of you tingles with excitement at the thought of having their undivided attention, if only for an evening. You push the feeling away. Don’t be foolish. This is just about apologizing for the coffee incident. Nothing more.

***

After the race, you freshen up and change into a flowy summer dress. As you apply a final coat of lipstick, nerves flutter in your stomach. This dinner will either go surprisingly well or be a total disaster.

With Charles and Max, it’s anyone’s guess.

Your pulse picks up when you exit the paddock club to see Charles and Max waiting, wearing nice button downs and trading murderous looks.

But as soon as they notice you, their faces morph into charming smiles. Charles steps forward first, eyes bright.

“You look beautiful,” he says, kissing your cheek in greeting. The press of his lips sends a thrill through you despite yourself.

Max moves closer, expression soft. “That dress is perfect on you.”

You thank them, trying not to blush. Max gestures to the row of sleek sports cars. “Shall we?”

Charles frowns. “She should ride with me, I asked her to dinner first.”

Max scoffs. “Only because you swooped in when you saw I was going to.”

“As if! I was being a gentleman, unlike you.”

They descend into bickering while you stand there awkwardly. Finally you interject.

“Or here’s a thought — how about we take an Uber together?”

Charles and Max stop arguing, properly chastised. “Of course, good idea,” Charles says smoothly.

You all pile into the back of the Uber, you wedged between them. Their thighs press against yours, muscular and distracting. Get it together, you scold yourself. This is just an apology dinner.

At the restaurant, Max holds your chair out while Charles arranges your napkin on your lap. Their efforts to dote on you would be sweet if they weren’t also trying to outdo each other. You settle in for an interesting night.

A waiter appears to take your order. Charles recommends the osso buco. Max argues the sea bass is better. You go for the risotto to avoid playing favorites.

When the food arrives, Charles insists on serving you first. “Try this, the sauce is exquisite,” he purrs, holding a forkful to your lips.

You let him feed you, hyperaware of Max watching hawkishly. “Delicious, thank you.”

Not to be outdone, Max spears a bite of his fish. “Here, you have to taste this.” He brings the fork to your mouth. You oblige, cheeks burning.

This continues through the whole meal. Charles and Max take turns hand feeding you, vying for your attention. Under different circumstances it would feel romantic, but their competitive edge ruins the mood.

Still, you have to admit the food is incredible. Charles was right about the osso buco. When your risotto is gone, he happily shares his plate. Max pushes his closer too, until you’re stuffed on bites of their entrees.

For dessert they order chocolate soufflé to share. Two forks battle for the privilege of feeding you. You finally snatch the dish between you, laughing.

“I think I can manage on my own now, thanks.”

Charles sits back with a rueful smile. “Sorry, got a bit carried away there.”

“We just want you to enjoy the food,” Max adds a touch sheepishly.

You take a bite and sigh blissfully. “Mission accomplished, trust me.”

Despite their antics, you’re surprised to realize you’re having a nice time. When Charles and Max aren’t competing over you, they’re charming dinner companions, trading funny racing stories and debating controversial penalties. You find yourself relaxing, giggling often at their witty banter.

Over digestifs, the mood shifts. The low lighting makes Charles’ gaze smolder. Max’s hand brushes your knee under the table. You shift, heart rate kicking up.

The bill comes and Charles snags it before Max can react. “Please, allow me.”

You start to protest but Max speaks up. “I guess I’ll get the next one then.”

The implication makes your pulse flutter. Next one?

Outside the restaurant, Charles offers his arm. “Let’s go somewhere more private to continue the evening.” His eyes glitter with promise.

You hesitate, feeling suddenly shy. Max steps closer.

“Don’t listen to him, he just wants you alone. Come out with me instead and I’ll show you a good time.”

He waggles his eyebrows. You blush fiercely as their suggestive stares make you squirm.

Charles drops your arm, scowling. “Back off, Verstappen. She’s coming with me.”

“She can make her own choices,” Max retorts. “But she’d clearly have more fun with me.”

Their flirting turns sour as they descend into bickering again. You clench your fists, frustration bubbling over.

“Enough!” You burst out. “I’m done being fought over like a trophy.”

Charles and Max stop arguing, looking properly scolded. You take a deep breath.

“My hotel is just around the corner. You’re both welcome to join me for a nightcap. But you need to stop this childish fighting or you can go back to your own rooms.”

They share an uneasy glance, then nod. “You’re right, sorry about that,” Charles says. “Lead the way.”

Max just gestures for you to walk ahead. You turn towards your hotel, nerves and anticipation swirling. A nightcap is harmless, you tell yourself. You’re just putting your foot down about their behavior.

At the hotel bar, you order a round of drinks and claim a small corner booth. Charles and Max slide in on either side of you. Their thighs press against yours under the tiny table.

You take a fortifying sip of your cocktail. “Okay look, tonight has been … fun, surprisingly. But the constant competing over me has to stop.”

You level them with your most serious gaze. They have the grace to look embarrassed.

“You’re right, that wasn’t fair to you,” Charles says earnestly. “I got carried away trying to, I don’t know, impress you, I guess. I’ll be more respectful from now on.”

Max clears his throat. “Yeah, me too. Didn’t mean to make you feel like a prize. I just ...” He ducks his head. “Really wanted you to like me.”

Your breath catches at the endearing admission. You place a hand over Max’s where it rests on his thigh. “I do like you. Both of you. When you’re not acting like idiots.”

Charles covers your other hand, expression softening. “I like you too. So much.”

Warmth spreads through you at their words. For a moment, you all just smile at each other, the atmosphere shifting into something … intimate.

The air suddenly feels charged with possibility. You wet your lips nervously. Two sets of eyes track the movement.

Charles moves his thumb in a slow sweep over the back of your hand, stirring up butterflies. “I’d really like to kiss you right now,” he murmurs. “If that’s okay.”

Your heartbeat stutters. You glance at Max. His eyes are dark, lips parted. Waiting for your answer.

You close the distance to Charles in response, pressing your mouth to his. He makes a soft sound and cups your jaw, kissing you back eagerly. His lips are soft and seeking.

When you part for air, Max clears his throat. “I believe you said no more competing tonight. So it’s my turn now.”

Before you can react, he captures your lips in a searing kiss. He kisses differently than Charles, more urgently, with the promise of heat. You grasp his shoulders to stay grounded.

You break away gasping. The three of you stare at each other, wide eyed and flushed.

Charles recovers first. “Why don’t we take this upstairs?” His expression leaves no doubt as to his meaning.

A spike of want goes through you. But uncertainty flickers too. Are you really ready for … all that? With both of them?

Sensing your hesitation, Max squeezes your hand. “Or we could just keep talking, if you’d prefer?” His tone is serious despite the desire in his eyes. “No pressure, okay?”

Charles nods, looking equally willing to follow your lead. You smile, grateful for their patience. As tempting as it is to fall into bed together, that feels rushed.

“Why don’t we have one more drink upstairs and see where things go?” You suggest.

“I’d love that,” Charles says.

Max signals the waiter for your tab. “Your room or one of ours?”

You laugh at his eagerness. “Mine. I have the key.”

***

In the elevator up to your hotel room, the air feels charged with possibility. Charles pins you to the wall, nuzzling your neck in a way that makes you shiver. Max crowds behind you, hands spanning your waist. You feel surrounded, but also safe between them.

At your door, Charles steals one more heated kiss before you unlock it. His eyes are dark with want when he pulls back. “I’ve been wanting to do that all night.”

Max’s breath tickles your ear. “My turn now.” His low voice sends desire swirling through you.

You lead them inside, nerves and excitement making you giddy. Max pulls you into his arms immediately, kissing you deeply. Charles comes up behind you, trailing kisses down your neck in tandem with Max’s exploring tongue. You clutch their shirts, anchored between them.

When you part for air, Charles suggests opening a bottle of wine from the minibar. You nod, needing to steady your spinning head.

While Charles uncorks a bottle of red, Max comes up behind you, nuzzling your hair. “That dress looks amazing on you, but I bet it would look even better on the floor,” he murmurs suggestively.

You blush even as arousal stirs. But Charles interrupts before you can respond.

“Don’t be crude, Max,” he chides, handing you a glass of wine. His fingers linger on yours. “She deserves to be treated with respect.”

Max rolls his eyes. “I was complimenting her, not being crude.”

“It came off as objectifying. I know how to properly appreciate a woman.” Charles strokes your arm lightly, eyes smoldering.

Here we go again, you think. But Max just laughs.

“Oh it’s on now, Leclerc. We’ll see who can make her feel more … appreciated.” He waggles his eyebrows.

You nearly choke on your wine. “Um, I’m not sure this competition is necessary-”

“Shh, just relax, mon amour. Let us take care of you.” Charles silences you with a deep kiss, stealing your breath.

Max comes up behind you, trailing hot kisses over your exposed shoulders. His hands find your waist, pulling you back against him.

You’re surrounded by them, enveloped in wandering hands and seeking mouths. It’s overwhelming but intoxicating. You let yourself get lost in the sensations.

Charles lavishes attention on your neck, hitting sensitive spots that make you shiver. When he finds one that makes you moan, Max focuses on the same area until your knees go weak.

They maneuver you to the bed, shedding jackets and shoes along the way. Charles presses you back into the pillows, kissing you deeply as his fingers trail up your leg, rucking your dress higher.

Max pushes himself between your parted thighs, kissing along your inner leg. You grasp their hair, anchoring yourself.

“You’re both trying to kill me, I swear,” you gasp out.

Charles smiles against your neck. “On the contrary, we’re trying to make you feel as alive as possible.”

As if to prove it, Max hitches one of your legs over his shoulder and kisses along your inner thigh, making you squirm.

“Tell me what you want, cherié. I’m yours tonight,” Charles breathes in your ear.

You drag him down for a messy kiss. He groans as you press up into him.

Max works his way higher until his breath ghosts over your core. Your whole body tightens in anticipation.

“Can I taste you?” His voice is rough with need. “I want to make you feel so good, lekker ding.”

You nod frantically and he hooks his fingers under your underwear, sliding them off. The first touch of his tongue makes you cry out.

Charles swallows the sound, kissing you deeply. “That’s it, let go. We’ve got you.”

Overwhelmed by sensations, you can only clutch their hair and let yourself be carried away on waves of pleasure.

You lose track of time, of everything beyond their mouths and hands worshipping every inch of you. When Max finally has you teetering on the edge, he pulls back right before you tip over.

“Not yet. I want you to come with me inside you.”

The primal promise sends a bolt of need through you. Charles props himself up, pupils blown wide. “God, that’s hot.” His erection presses insistently against your hip. “But condoms first. I’ll grab some.”

While he digs through his wallet, Max strips you both bare. You run appreciative hands over his chiseled physique, anticipating having him inside you. But uncertainty flickers too.

“Have you … done this before?” You ask hesitantly. “With another guy, I mean?”

Max stills. “I haven’t. Have you?” At your head shake, he relaxes. “We’ll figure it out together.”

Reassured, you pull him down for a messy kiss. Charles rejoins you on the bed, rolling a condom onto Max.

“All set.” He kisses you lingeringly. “If you want to stop at any point, just say the word.”

You smile at his caretaking. “I’ll be vocal if I need you to stop or slow down, don’t worry.”

Max lines himself up at your entrance, holding your gaze. “You ready?”

At your eager nod, he pushes inside you in one long stroke. You arch up with a cry at the delicious stretch of him filling you so perfectly.

Charles lavishes kisses over your face and neck murmuring praise. “That’s it, you’re doing so well. You look incredible like this, taking him so beautifully.”

Max builds a steady rhythm, fucking into you almost leisurely, stoking the fire higher. “You feel incredible, so hot and tight around me.” He hits a spot that has you seeing stars.

Charles sheds his own clothes and rolls on a condom, eyes fixed on where you’re joined. “You two are so fucking gorgeous together. Makes me want a turn.”

“Yes, please,” you gasp out. You need them both tonight.

Max slows to shallow pumps, letting Charles take his place between your legs. He pushes in slowly and your body opens for him, welcoming the new stretch.

Charles curses breathlessly at your tight heat engulfing him. “You’re unbelievable. I could stay buried in you forever.”

He sets a steady pace while Max kisses you deeply, swallowing your moans. Having them both lavish you with such dedicated attention pushes you close to the edge again.

“Want to come with you around me,” Charles pants out. “Can I make you come, ma belle?”

“Yes, please, I’m so close-” you cry out as he reaches between you to stroke your clit.

The dual sensations send you hurtling over the edge with a sharp cry. Your inner walls pulse around Charles, pulling him over with you.

You cling to each other, breathing hard as you come down. Charles presses soft kisses over your face while Max smoothes back your hair.

“You’re incredible. How was that?” Charles asks gently once he catches his breath.

You huff out a giddy laugh. “Absolutely amazing.” You cup his cheek. “Both of you.”

Max smiles and kisses you sweetly. “I’m not done with you yet tonight.”

Anticipation sparks through you again. “Oh really?”

He licks his lips. “I want another taste of dessert.”

Charles nips your ear playfully. “And I want a round two with you. We’re just getting started.”

The promise in their heated looks makes your spent body begin to reawaken. You stretch like a cat between them.

“Well then, what are you waiting for?”

They pounce on you eagerly, hands and mouths roaming your sensitised skin. You surrender to their passionate attentions, mind blissfully blank of everything but pleasure.

Later, they lay you between them, bodies spent and entwined. Sleep tugs at the edges of your sated mind.

Charles nuzzles your shoulder. “Rest now, mon ange. You were perfect.”

Max pulls the blankets over you and presses a kiss to your hair. “We’re right here with you.”

Wrapped securely in their arms, you let yourself drift off, a contented smile on your face. Tonight was exactly what you needed — no more fighting or competing, just pure connection.

As you fall asleep cocooned between your two gorgeous drivers, you can’t imagine a more satisfying way to end the craziest day of your life.

***

The morning after the blissful night with Charles and Max, you wake up alone in tangled sheets. For a moment you wonder if it was just a dream. Then you spot a note on the bedside table.

Had early commitments but can’t stop thinking about you. See you at the paddock club soon - C & M

You grin and fall back against the pillows. Last night definitely happened. And based on that note, they’re already eager for a repeat. Happiness bubbles up in you.

Over the next few days, you text constantly with Charles and Max. They check on how you’re feeling (sore but satiated) and send increasingly flirty selfies that make you blush. The texts grow more suggestive as the next race weekend nears.

Can’t wait to get my hands on you again. I’ll sneak you off somewhere the minute I see you

I call dibs on stealing her away this time! We have some unfinished business

You smile at your phone, butterflies taking flight. You have a feeling this race weekend will be anything but routine.

Friday morning you show up early to prep the paddock club cafe. As the bustle of the weekend ramps up outside, your pulse quickens wondering if you’ll see Charles or Max first.

A gaggle of mechanics come in, followed by Fred Vasseur and Toto Wolff bickering over coffees. No sign of your drivers yet.

Finally Charles saunters in, sweaty from practice and still in his red race suit. His face lights up when he sees you.

“There’s my gorgeous girl.” He leans across the counter for a swift, burning kiss. “I missed you.”

You blush fiercely as hoots and whistles sound from the patrons. Charles just winks.

“The usual?” You ask, ducking to hide your glowing cheeks.

“Please. I need my favorite barista’s coffee to get through the day.”

You can feel his eyes on you as you work, warm and admiring. It makes your skin tingle.

As Charles collects his coffee, he murmurs low in your ear, “Dinner tonight? I want you all to myself.”

His steely gaze leaves no doubt as to his intentions. You shiver and nod eagerly.

“Here?”

“I was thinking your hotel bed again ...” His fingers graze your wrist suggestively.

Your breath catches. Before you can respond, Max strides up to the counter.

“Morning.” He gives Charles an unreadable look then smiles at you. “I’ll take my usual.”

He watches you work with a little smile playing about his lips, occasionally trading glances with Charles. They seem … chummy, almost conspiratorial.

You hand Max his coffee, brow arched. “Why do I feel like I’m missing something with you two?”

Max grins. “Let’s just say Charles and I … bonded recently over a mutual interest.” His meaningful look makes your cheeks flame.

“Oh really now?” You ask coyly.

“Really.” Charles slings an arm around Max’s shoulders. “We’ve discovered some shared enthusiasms lately.”

They smirk at each other and you have to fan yourself. If this new camaraderie is the result of your tryst, you heartily approve.

Over the rest of Friday you spot Charles and Max hanging out often, laughing together. The other drivers eye them curiously but they just share secret smiles.

In the media pen after practice, a reporter asks about their burgeoning bromance.

“I guess you could say we recently discovered some common ground that brought us closer,” Charles says vaguely.

Beside him, Max shrugs. “Let’s just say our relationship has … matured lately.”

They grin at the innuendo. You nearly spit out your drink watching the live feed, their slyness making you squirm. So much for discretion.

As promised, Charles takes you to dinner that night. In the car, he pulls you across the console for a heated kiss.

“Thought about doing this all day,” he growls against your lips.

At your hotel, clothes are hastily shed as you fall into bed together. Charles takes you apart ruthlessly, until you’re trembling and spent beneath him.

After, he gathers you close, nuzzling your hair. “I don’t know what hold you have over me, but I can’t get enough.”

You smile and kiss him lazily. “Right back at you. I could get used to this.”

Charles’ eyes darken. “Speaking of, Max was suggesting we all get together again before the race ...”

Tomorrow night is wide open in your schedule.

***

The next day buzzes by until Charles and Max finish their media duties. They saunter into the paddock club wearing matching smirks.

“Time for that break you promised us,” Max says, crowding you against the counter.

Charles nips your ear. “We’ll make it worth your while.” His hot promise makes you instantly pliant.

They lead you outside hand in hand, sneaking glances around until you reach the Ferrari motorhome. Inside Charles’ driver’s room, he pins you to the leather couch, kissing you ravenously.

Clothes melt away between heated kisses and grasping hands. Soon you’re naked on the couch, framed by Charles and Max’s toned bodies.

Charles trails kisses down between your breasts, laving his tongue over a nipple until you arch up with a cry.

“Sensitive here I see,” he murmurs smugly before redirecting his attention. You grasp his messy waves, overwhelmed.

Max slides a hand up your inner thigh, eyes blazing when he discovers you bare. “So wet already. I think she likes us teasing her, Charles.”

A thick finger slides through your folds and you gasp out his name. Chuckling darkly, Max repeats the motion until you’re rocking your hips desperately.

“Please … need you ...” you whimper.

He smirks. “How can I deny such a sweet request?”

Charles sits back to enjoy the show as Max lines up at your entrance. He pushes in slowly, groaning as your body opens to welcome his thick length. You clutch his shoulders, overwhelmed.

“Fuck, feel so perfect around me,” he grits out through clenched teeth, seated fully inside you. “You good?”

You nod frantically. No matter how many times you come together, that first blissful stretch when he fills you never gets old.

Charles strokes himself lazily, eyes fixed on where you’re joined. “God, that’s hot to watch. Starting to think we should share you more often if this is what I get to see.”

Max builds a relentless rhythm, spurred on by Charles’ avid stare. You grasp the leather couch, crying out with every deep stroke nudging that sweet spot inside.

“Look at those pretty tits bounce while you fuck her,” Charles rasps out. “You close, ma belle? I want to watch you come undone around him.”

That heated plea sends you over, clenching on Max’s length as pleasure crashes over you. He fucks you through it before chasing his own high.

“Want to feel you come in me,” you gasp out.

Groaning your name, Max pulls you tight and shudders his release inside you. He collapses forward, breathing ragged.

“Holy fuck that was intense,” he mutters, kissing you sloppily. You cling together, spent and grinning.

Until Charles clears his throat loudly. “Looked like fun but I believe you promised to share, Max.”

Unfurling from you, Max laughs. “All yours, mate. But only after I get one more taste.”

To your delight, he seals his lips over your swollen clit without warning, sucking firmly. The stimulation on your over-sensitized nerves straddles the line between pleasure and pain until you’re thrashing and begging.

Finally Max releases you with one last lick and a wolfish grin. “Had to have another hit of that sweetness.”

You can only whimper as Charles immediately replaces him between your legs. He kisses up the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, eyes blazing.

“Please tell me you have another round in you, cherié. Because watching that made me very eager to play.”

As he pushes inside you in one long stroke, you clutch his back deliriously. Charles wastes no time building a ruthless rhythm, spurred on by watching you fall apart with Max. His thick length drags along your sensitive inner walls, wringing gasps and cries from you with every snap of his hips.

“That’s it, sing for me,” he grits out, angling to nudge against that sweet spot inside you. “Want the whole paddock to hear how good I can make you feel.”

You grasp his biceps, feeling his muscles flex powerfully with each pounding stroke. The lewd sound of skin slapping skin echoes through the room.

Charles snakes a hand between you, finding your throbbing clit and stroking in time with his deep thrusts. The sensations make you see stars, still so sensitive from Max’s attentions.

“Oh god, right there,” you sob, teetering dangerously on the edge again. “Gonna come ...”

“Look at me,” Charles commands sharply. You drag your eyes open to meet his burning gaze. “Come for me now.”

On cue your body seizes up, inner walls clamping down hard as a shockwave of pleasure crashes through you. You cry out Charles’ name hoarsely, barely hearing his own bitten off groan as he follows you over the edge.

Collapsing forward, Charles peppers your face with tender kisses as you cling together, panting through the aftershocks.

“Magnificent as always, mon amour,” he murmurs, nuzzling into your neck.

You comb lazy fingers through his hair, body coursing with endorphins. “Mmm. Pretty sure you two are going to kill me with great sex at this point, but I can’t bring myself to complain.”

Max’s laughter warms your skin as he slides up behind you. He trails a hand down your side, eyes glinting. “Oh we’re nowhere close to done with you yet ...”

[feinzleclerc]

Senna's Legacy | Charles Leclerc

summary :: where you're Senna's daughter and carry on your father's legacy through your institute

word count :: 2.320 words.

The atmosphere in the paddock during the Brazilian GP was unmistakable. Maybe it was the tropical breeze, the green and yellow flags swaying in the wind, or the unmatched passion of Brazilian fans that always made history. For you, though, this weekend had an even deeper meaning.

As Ayrton Senna’s daughter, your name carried a weight you bore with both pride and responsibility. For years, you had been at the helm of the Ayrton Senna Racing Dreams Institute, a project dedicated to supporting children with dreams of becoming Formula 1 drivers by providing education, infrastructure, and opportunities in such a selective sport.

The Brazilian GP was always a golden opportunity to promote the institute’s work. This time, however, Formula 1 had organized a special visit to the project for some of the drivers. They would pay tribute to your father and see firsthand the impact the institute had on these kids’ lives.

It was Thursday morning, the perfect day for the visit since it aligned with the institute’s busy class schedule and fit the drivers’ agendas before the race weekend. You stood in front of the building, waiting anxiously for your guests. A large panel featuring Ayrton’s face and the phrase Dreams Start Here welcomed visitors. As the black cars began to arrive, you adjusted your blazer and took a deep breath.

The first to step out were Verstappen, Norris, and Hamilton, all enthusiastic and friendly. Leclerc followed shortly after. Dressed in his Ferrari gear and wearing sunglasses that accentuated his sharp features, he smiled as he saw you.

─ You must be the mastermind behind all of this ─ said Lewis, shaking your hand firmly but kindly. ─ It’s an honor to be here.

─ Thank you all for coming ─ you replied with a warm smile. ─ I’m sure the kids are even more excited than I am to meet you.

Charles chuckled, removing his sunglasses and hooking them onto his shirt.

─ Well, I hope I don’t disappoint.

As you guided them through the institute, you explained every detail, from the racing simulators to the classrooms where kids learned English, math, and engineering concepts. The drivers listened attentively, but Charles seemed particularly interested.

─ How many kids does the program support each year? ─ he asked, watching a group using the simulators.

─ Around 200 directly ─ you answered. ─ But with our partnerships, we reach thousands in underserved communities.

Charles nodded, clearly impressed.

─ That’s incredible. Your father would be so proud.

A lump formed in your throat. Hearing such words from someone who genuinely admired Ayrton always stirred deep emotions.

After the tour, the children had their moment with the drivers. Photos, autographs, and simulator challenges turned the day into pure joy, as if everyone had reverted to childhood. Yet, Charles seemed to stick close to you the entire time.

─ Can I ask you something personal? ─ he began as you both watched the kids play.

─ Of course ─ you said, curious.

─ What’s it like carrying Ayrton’s name? It must be amazing, but also overwhelming.

You smiled softly, taking a moment to gather your thoughts.

─ It’s a mix of both. The pride is immense, but so is the constant expectation. It feels like I always have to live up to his legacy. That’s why I pour so much of myself into this institute.

Charles nodded, his gaze locked onto yours.

─ Well, from what I’ve seen today, you’re doing just that. He would be immensely proud.

The sincerity in his eyes made you look away briefly, your cheeks flushing as a smile crept across your lips.

That afternoon, Formula 1 held a tribute to your father. A float shaped like Ayrton’s iconic helmet made its way around, and Vettel led a walk with the drivers along the circuit. Watching these heartfelt gestures left you in awe, proud of everything being done to honor him.

Later, a professional filming team arrived to record a special segment where each driver would give a speech about Ayrton. Since you had been invited to observe, you stayed close enough to hear every word.

Max Verstappen spoke of how Ayrton had inspired his generation. Lewis Hamilton, visibly moved, shared how watching Senna race had ignited his passion for the sport.

When it was Charles’s turn, your heartbeat quickened.

─ I grew up hearing stories about Ayrton Senna ─ he began, holding the microphone with confidence. ─ To me, he was more than just a driver. He was the embodiment of determination, courage, and passion. Today, I had the privilege of visiting the institute led by his daughter. What she’s doing is nothing short of continuing his legacy, but in a way that touches lives on an even greater scale.

He paused, his eyes scanning the crowd until they found yours.

─ Ayrton inspired generations to dream, and his daughter is ensuring those dreams have a chance to become reality. It’s an honor to be here and witness this.

The cameraman lowered his equipment as murmurs of praise for Charles’s speech filled the room. Your heart raced, overwhelmed by the mix of emotions his words evoked—not only for being a Senna but for the way Charles had mentioned you so personally.

On Sunday, the stands at Interlagos were packed. The Brazilian fans were electric, and the energy was contagious. Before the race, Charles found you in the paddock, where you stood with some of the institute’s kids.

─ Ready to cheer me on? ─ he asked the kids in broken Portuguese he had hastily learned from a translator.

─ Yes! ─ they shouted in unison, laughing as they hugged the driver.

He straightened and turned to you.

─ I hope I can live up to the hype today.

─ Good luck, Charles. We’ll be rooting for you.

Later, at the post-race celebration, you were chatting with other guests when you felt a light touch on your arm. You didn’t even need to turn around to know who it was—the familiar scent of Charles’s cologne gave him away.

─ Can we talk? ─ he asked, his smile slightly shy.

─ Of course! ─ you replied, following him to a quieter corner.

─ I just wanted to thank you for this weekend ─ he began. ─ Visiting the institute and meeting the kids gave me a new perspective on racing.

─ I’m glad you enjoyed it ─ you said sincerely.

Charles hesitated, running a hand through his hair, clearly nervous.

─ Actually, there’s something else I wanted to say. Or, rather, ask.

─ Go ahead ─ you encouraged him.

─ Would you let me take you out to dinner? Not now, of course. But after the season ends.

His question caught you off guard, but the smile that spread across your face was answer enough.

─ I’d love that ─ you replied.

Charles’s grin widened.

─ Great. I promise it’ll be special—you won’t regret it.

─ I’ll be looking forward to it, Charles ─ you said, meeting his eyes as your heart raced.

[literatureloverx]

Thankyou for doing the chuuya type headcanons! You didn't dissapoint at all and I totally agree that he would be much more flexible in his type than fyodor would. I can definitely see him being a bit possessive. In a kind of guard dog way haha! Please please do some dating and nsfw headcanons!!

From the Anon who asked for Chuuya

Hello, my dear. The NSFW headcanons are here, and I have also written some dating headcanons. ♥️

N A K A H A R A C H U U Y A

Dating headcanons.

Chuuya x fem!reader

Dating Chuuya is a unique experience—one that feels equal parts exhilarating and comfortable, though always with a bit of intensity.

From the moment you become his, Chuuya isn’t just dating you—he is committing to you in every sense, even if he does not always show it with flowery words.

His actions speak louder.

He is not the type to be all over you publicly or shower you with overt affection in front of others, but when you are alone, you can feel how deeply he cares.

He is incredibly observant.

Chuuya pays attention to every detail, from the way you smile when you see something you like, to the way you subtly shift when you are uncomfortable.

He may not always express it verbally, but you will find that every gift, every gesture, is a reflection of the little things you have shared with him over time.

While he is not the best at picking up on every subtle hint, he will remember the important stuff, so expect surprises that feel personal and meaningful.

Chuuya is incredibly thoughtful when it comes to dates.

Though his lifestyle may not allow for spontaneous trips or long weekends away, he will make sure that the time you do spend together is memorable.

Whether it is a quiet night in, a dinner at a fine restaurant, or an intimate getaway, he plans everything down to the smallest detail.

He is not one for extravagant public displays, but his thoughtfulness will shine through in ways that make you feel cherished and understood.

He is protective, but in his own way.

Chuuya is fiercely protective of you, though it is not always the kind of protective that is obvious to the outside world.

He will not hover, but when it comes to the people you are around, he will keep a careful eye on them.

His concern for your well-being will never be far behind, though it is often shown through actions rather than words—like making sure you get home safely, checking in with you during stressful moments, or doing little things that make your life easier.

His love is not conventional, but it is unwavering.

When you date Chuuya, you learn that his love is shown in the little things. It is not about grand gestures for him—it is about making you feel like you are the only one who matters.

Whether it is choosing the perfect wine for your dinner, knowing exactly what song will make you smile, or holding you close when the world feels too loud, Chuuya’s love is a quiet strength that you can feel in every touch and word.

He has a complex view of intimacy and affection.

Chuuya is not big on PDA, and he is not the type to publicly announce his feelings. But when it is just the two of you, he is tender and caring in his own way.

He wants you to know you are loved, and he will go out of his way to show it.

He might not always be openly affectionate, but he will often give you small touches—a hand on your back, a soft kiss on your forehead—that are enough to make you feel secure in his love.

You are the center of his world.

When Chuuya is with you, he is entirely present.

Despite his busy lifestyle, he will make sure that the time you spend together feels significant.

Whether he is planning a quiet night in or taking you out for a date, you will always feel like his first priority.

While he is often surrounded by chaos, when it is just you two, everything else fades into the background.

In a relationship, Chuuya likes to maintain a sense of control, but it is never about domination—it is about ensuring that he can protect and care for you.

He does not want you to feel helpless, but he does want to guide you, especially when it comes to navigating the challenges in his life and yours.

You will never feel like you are alone when he is by your side, and that constant support will make you feel safe and cherished.

The intimacy in your relationship will be intense, but deeply meaningful.

Physical affection with Chuuya is not just about sex; it is an extension of the trust and emotional connection you share.

He will always prioritise your comfort and pleasure, but he will also want to explore deeper levels of intimacy with you—whether that is through soft, lingering kisses, quiet moments of touch, or deeper, more intense expressions of love.

The dynamic between you two will always be filled with moments where you feel entirely seen and cared for.

He is not a fan of sharing you. (And he won’t. Ever.)

Chuuya does not like to share what is his, especially when it comes to you. While he is not possessive in a toxic way, you will feel his territorial side come out in subtle ways.

If someone gets too close to you, he is the type to step in and make sure they know exactly who you belong to.

You will feel secure, but also like you are his one and only—something that will be reassuring and maybe even a little thrilling.

[yup-no-way]

Astro Observations pt. 4

Ayyyyy! How is everyone! I am almost done with all my uni work for the semester and I am rapidly approaching my first exam. But it’s alright cause at least I got one of my projects to work. I had to make a wireless power transfer using copper wires and I spend a whole day going back-and-forth between the floors of my department in search for some copper (someone pls say sike rn). Now tell me why me and my team spent a whole day just to create the simplest of circuits, all because our transistors kept burning up. The stench in that room from burned electrical components was insane (these r your future engineers btw). We probably went through 10 different transistors (rip to our lab resources).

Well I hope everyone is doing good and everyone is safe and healthy! I wish all of you to reach your full potential and live your best life!

These observations are based on my personal experiences so don’t take it as full facts. These placements can also be influenced by other things in someone’s chart like degrees, houses and aspects. Also if u have any suggestions for what content you’d like to see feel free to let me know. English is not my first language lads so don’t drag me for grammatical errors. xoxo

Cancer moon: you guys r cutie patooties that just want emotional closeness from the people around you. Generally if evolved you guys r so beautiful. You are caring, giving, emotionally mature and are able to express yourself in a healthy manner. they r the type to pay attention to the little details. I’ve noticed a pattern with cancer moons that their love language is words of affirmation. Buuuut and there is a big but here, if you guys are not evolved, y’all r hell on earth. Imagine a sensitive, emotionally constipated, demanding ticking bomb. Cancers r truly crash outs if not evolved. They will want the world from you and give nothing in return. You will have to pull through emotionally in the relationship and you will have to walk on eggshells around them.

Chiron 12h: these people most likely dealt with a lot of religious/spiritual trauma. They never felt truly connected to the divine or they have an unhealthy relationship with the divine. A lot of the people I’ve met have been struggling with accepting themselves and the divine at the same time. It is a hard placement. I love you guys so much and I just want to say that it’s alright to take your time and figure yourself out. Sometimes this is a lifelong journey and instead of running away from your scars, it’s better you face them. Whether you decide to connect with religion/spirituality or not, make sure that is your choice. You are the only one in charge of that. There is no shame in either choice so don’t let people tell you otherwise. Lots of love to you xoxo

Libra moon: for these natives, having balance in their life is very important. It’s extremely common for these people to get overwhelmed if they work too much without proper rest. Like balance is rllyyy that serious to them. I’ve seen these people get extremely stressed when something feels off in their life. I have a friend that crashes out (bless her soul) whenever she has too many assignments. She’s a demon during exam season if she needs to pull all nighters. They also crave a sense of stability in their relationships with people and they rlly don’t like to argue w people. Sometimes this urge to keep peace with people leads to them not vocalising their problems making them stay in relationships for way longer than they should. They also have a strong sense of justice!!! I love learning ab my friend’s placements so I can know how to make em feel safe and happy. Muaw xoxo

Lilith Taurus: these people often tend to get insecure of their financial status. They deeply cared about how they r perceived financially by people. They might even get to the point where they might want to appear richer than they are. They might have experienced loss of stability and monetary assets through their life that led them to these traits. BUUUUT, if they move on from placing their whole value as a human being on their assets, they have a great potential for actually achieving that financial status they so deeply yearn for. These people need to learn how to balance their confidence and self worth and accept themselves for who they are. Also they might have a tendency to get greedy, so be aware of that as well darlings.

Lilith 9h: these people often feel the need to move from place to place. They might want to change their country of residence quite often . You guys never feel truly fulfilled with where u r at. Maybe travelling is a good alternative if you don’t have the financial means to constantly move. These natives just get that stimulus from changing their environment. As long as you balance your life, you should be good, but be aware of overindulging in the need to cross every boundary. Just make sure the choices you are making are actually good and not just a temporary solution for a bigger underlining issue.

So guys this is all for today! I hope you guys liked this blog as well. I won’t be very active due to the exam season but I will try my absolute best to post as many things as possible! If you guys r interested is seeing a certain type of content let me know!

Stay healthy and glowing xoxo

[fishnapple]

FUTURE SPOUSE - Channelled message: What they love about you

(can also apply to long-term committed partner)

This is a general reading meant for multiple people. Take only what resonates and leave out the rest.

Your feedback is much appreciated. If you find the reading resonated with you, leave a comment, I’d love to know 🎐

About me | Masterpost

Book a reading with me - KO-FI (→ personal reading)

1. Citrine

Loving you and being loved by you is like registering for a foreign language course, a never-ending one. At first, I was perplexed by your emotional distance, I could see it, your emotions, but I couldn't reach it. It felt like a wall was between us. I suppose my emotional expression felt foreign to you, too. Our language didn't match. But we persisted. We learnt and we've found some success.

You will find my neediness less annoying, and I will find your distance less scary. We've learnt to appreciate each other's endearing traits more, to admire rather than criticise each other.

I get to feel your care in such an intimate way. It's subtle, modest but warm, and it makes my heart squealed. It's like a perfume scent that lingers close to your skin. Sometimes you would forget that it is there, but you could still feel its effect on you, subconsciously, it makes you feel at ease, relaxed, like an invisible embrace. You always know me so well, inside out, even the smallest reaction wouldn't escape your eyes. You make me feel so appreciated, and I want to give you my unwavering devotion. We are, in a sense, the only existence in each other's eyes. (We still care for other people in our life, but no one understands us like us, no one sees us like us)

We don't show our love for each other in such an extravagant and boisterous way. We want to go about our life together quietly, to protect our nest. We are more alike in the way we function in this world than you think. Both your detachment and my attachment stemmed from a sense of solitude in life. The difference is, you want to embrace it, I want to run away from it. And when we are together, we enjoy our solitude together.

We get to feel life together in such a pure and beautiful way. I had never paid enough attention to little beauties surrounding me until I met you. Life takes on many more colours than before. It's vibrant, it's blinding, and it's moving.

Note: You guys could have some difficulties in the beginning due to differences in your way of expressing love. They are more attached and needy while you are more detached and distance. I don't think they are generally the needy and clingy type. They could just appear that way to you. But, gradually, you will learn to understand and adjust to each other. And that will be immensely rewarding. They will come to appreciate your more detached temperament, it shows hidden strength and also shows that you don't just overreact to situations, you will face adversities with calmness.

They love your quiet devotion and how you care for them in such a subtle and observant way. They feel seen and understood by you.

They will want to enjoy the quiet life that you share with each other. The type that goes under the radar, very private, not many will be able to intrude upon.

They also love how being with you makes them notice more beauty in life, to pay more attention to details. They learnt to enjoy smaller things, to find joys in ordinary days with you.

2. Red jasper

If you were a detective, a secret agent, or a spy, I think you would be very successful. Or are you one? Your silent moves would kill me every time. I didn't know that I could be attracted to something so dangerous. Why? The anticipation, the dread, it builds and builds in me, until suddenly, I find myself floating in the middle of dark water. I love it and I'm scared of it. The food you gave me, I'd never know if they were poisonous, if they had some kind of spell cast on them. Anyway, It filled my stomach, and it filled my heart. Full and contented. That's how I feel when I'm with you, minus the dread and the fear.

You don't say much, but your stare is enough, more than enough, it's intimidating, you know? Don't you know that people are scared of that? Or you've already known and you're enjoying it?

Whenever I look at you, I can't resist the urge to play detective myself. To deduct your thoughts and plans from those minuscule expressions on your face, your reactions. I want to observe them, to study them, so that, next time, you can't spring your surprises on me. Haha, fat chance, I will fail most of the times though. It's frustrating but also fascinating, especially when I see your surprising tactics worked on other people. A sense of sympathy, perhaps. Where do you get all those outlandish ideas from? Is there a recipe for the ideas generator with a 'totally explosive and secretive' tag on it in your mind? Do you have a production team working overtime behind the screen for you? Give me a hint.

You do whatever you want, sometimes you even moved away, change your address without telling me, knocking at my door in the middle of the night to tell me some irrelevant stories then walked away, telling me to go to the beach in the middle of winter. It's maddening, and it's addicting. I just want to grab a hold of you. I know it's impossible, but I always want to try.

Note: Are you someone who is on the quiet side but like to do whatever you want? Maybe you aren't, but they will view you that way. Your silence means unpredictability for them. They can't read you. And when they can't read someone, they perceive that person to be dangerous, they can't predict the other person's next move. But they love that feeling of uncertainty with you. It's scary but exhilarating, I think they have a liking for extreme sport and scary movies, anything that hints at a hidden, darker side.

They like your cooking, whatever you cook, even if it looks weird or unidentifiable, made from strange ingredients, it gives them a sense of uneasiness but also satisfaction.

They find you to be intimidating and inexpressive. They also like that other people are intimidated by you, is that a sense of camaraderie? A secret fan club. Your mysterious existence intrigues them. They want to probe into your mind to understand your inner working, with not much success, and that will even drive them more into it. It arouses them in every sense. They want to catch hold of that elusiveness, that uniqueness that you have. Be careful that it could translate to some possessive and obsessive behaviours from their part.

3. Amazonite

If you look closely at everything in nature, you will find that balance is everywhere, the equilibrium of randomness and order, of opposition and unification. And I find that balance in you too, because you are a part of nature, we all are, I find me in you and I find you in me.

You are the everlasting flame that burns. I got close and got a burn mark for touching you. But it's the mark that I would proudly display. Not to show off my bravery but to show off our closeness. You touched the softest part of me, the body hiding behind a tough shell. It hurts. It feels scary. It feels naked, but I wouldn't choose the other way.

How can someone so fierce and powerful like you can also be so tender and soft? softness could kill, strength could soothe.

I saw you walking on a strange road that not many dared to walk, but you seem so calm, so at peace, it made me curious, it made me envious and it also made me yearn to be with you. To walk with you, even if you don't need a companion. Are you chasing the moon, a faraway dream, a total darkness? Whatever destination you are heading to, I want to be there with you, for you, because I know my happiness also lies there as well. Your steadfastness gave me utmost trust and security, something that I didn't know I needed that much.

Sometimes, I feel like I'm seeing multiple people in front of me, but it's just you. I see a playful child, I see a wise wizard, I see a naughty trickster, I see a serious teacher. Somehow, they all act in union, a harmonious whole. It's ever fascinating. I could go to you for the soundest advice, then have banters that go nowhere and everywhere. I could go to you for the sweetest smile then having the rawest touch. What can I not find in you?

Note: This person practically loves everything about you. The love and the hurt that you can give them.

They find you to be their perfect counterpart, someone that they want to walk with, the one that can lead them to their happiness. They find happiness in their journey with you, no matter the destination.

They love how multifaceted you are. You seem to embody lots of different and contradicting traits, but it worked for you. You can harmonise them well into a fascinating being that they can't get enough of.

This person probably loves someone who can teach them, widen their mind, make them face their deepest part, but also be gentle about it. They love someone that know where they are going, someone who is very sure of their self, even if the path they tread doesn't mesh well with other people, I see the image of a stream (conventional ideals) feeding/pouring fear on a fish, but the fish just swims pass them. They find this steadfastness (their word) give them the courage to also go their own path and put their trust in you completely.

I think the way you act is pretty gentle, soft, and loving towards them, but it can also trigger them, touch them deeply, they can perceive a liveliness to you, as in someone who is brimming with life.

4. Labradorite

Hmm, the people seeing you be all smiley and warm probably won't be able to guess the wild animal that you've put on a tight leash behind closed doors.

Not with me, I will see it and I will love it. I love how you present yourself in such a soft, sweet way, then act all passionately when you are with me. Can it be called deception? I don't think so. It's just that you have such admirable self-control, you know when to hold and when to release, you don't just show your wild side to anyone. They have to earn your trust. I feel like the only guest in a private show. It boosted my ego, I will be honest. It makes me excited every time I get to meet you. Like a kid going to amusement park to watch firework.

You know how to play with words. Make it more flirty than necessary, but also make it into a soothing balm for the most agonising pain. I will tell you every time, to write a book, and I will be your most avid reader.

Being with you is me deciding to be brave, to embrace changes. You will bring changes into my life. Not intentionally. You just are. I found my life getting flipped upside down, being shaken, wrung out all the unnecessary grimes that had tenaciously clung on. I know that after they'd gone, you would fill me with real life. It felt like a dream before. Now I'm wide awake, lying on the shore, empty and liberated.

How can you give so much? Is there an infinite bank of fire inside you? Falling for you is like falling into the rabbit hole. It leads me into a strange land, expanding then contracting, being too big, being too small. Then, you will shine a light through a tiny hole on the sky for me to find you. I always know how to find you. The fire in me longs to be one with your fire.

Note: This person have so much passion for you. It's not just lust in a physical sense. It's more like your fire ignites their life fire and make it burn wildly. They can feel a passionate energy from you, it's generous and giving, like a sun. It's a life force that attracts every living being. I think that life for this person before meeting you had been quite dull. You make them feel alive. And to be alive is to be aroused, much like a seed sleeping underneath the earth, one day, sprouted out and kept growing.

They love how you're able to control yourself. They sense that you have a more wild side, an animalistic side to you that you just don't show to anyone unless they are deserving. They love how you present yourself beautifully and can also act passionately and assertively. You know when to be flirty, when to be serious, when to be soothing. You're probably have a talent with words too. They love your way of communicating, it's fun and creative.

[amomentsescape]

A candle lit bubble bath with the slashers (and Sinclair brothers) after very bad and long day of chasing a victim who was being extra difficult?

Slashers + Sinclair Brothers & a Bubble Bath with Reader

Slashers x Reader (Separate)

A/N: I didn't really go into detail about them having trouble with their victim. I mostly focused on the aftermath. I hope that's okay!

Freddy Krueger

He's honestly worse than a teenage girl

Immediately comes to you ranting and calling the victim every name in the book

You just wait for him to get the anger out of his system

Once he's done dumping all of his thoughts out on you, he insists on spending some time just relaxing with one another

He clearly needs it

Jumps at the opportunity of a bath with you, excited to be this close to you (especially with no clothes on)

He likes when you lean against him, giving him full access to place kisses on your neck

Can change the lighting in his world to whatever he feels like

He says he just doesn't like candles

But you're certain the flames freak him out a bit

He keeps the water from getting cold, allowing you both to stay in the tub for literal hours if your heart desires

Michael Myers

Michael is pretty self-aware that his anger is explosive

So when he comes home after wasting his whole night chasing down one victim, he's fuming

Immediately locks himself in the bedroom for a good hour, not wanting to accidentally hurt you

You've been through this a few times before, knowing that he'll come to you when he's ready

Once he feels calm enough, he comes out and sits beside you, letting you rest your weight against him

Seeing how dirty he is, you insist on having him join you in the tub

He denies it for a bit, but eventually gives in when he realizes you're just going to keep asking

Has your back against his chest

He sort of just sits there for a while, letting the water do its thing

But if you start putting shampoo in his hair and help wash him up, he won't be opposed

Jason Voorhees

The only way Jason will ever take a bath is if you're in there with him

He's learned to find some relaxation in the warm water now, and today is one of those days where he feels like he really needs it

He comes home and just hugs you for a bit, trying to get rid of his frustrations from earlier

And once you lead him by the hand to the warm tub, he's already feeling a bit better

He's a little big for the tub, so you kind of have to sit in his lap when you join him, not that he minds

Practically becomes putty in your hands

Rub his back? Loves it

Give him little kisses? Melts

Literally just poke him? All yours

You're basically the only thing that makes Jason feel better after days like these

Thomas Hewitt

After the day he had, he just wants to see you

It's actually his idea to take a bath in the first place

He thinks it's the perfect excuse to be close with you

Will pull you up to your feet and lead you towards the tub

He already has the water running

Needs you to add the bubbles though

He just thinks you have the magic touch when it comes to adding the right amount of soap

Unsurprisingly, he's the one that wants to pamper you

Helps wash your back and rinse the shampoo from your hair

He isn't sure why, but taking care of you is what puts him in a good mood after a long day

There's just something about seeing you so happy that makes him feel happy too

Bubba Sawyer

When he comes home, he immediately grabs your hand and is blubbering about his day

Is making huge gestures on what went wrong and how upset he is

All the while, you are already leading him to the bathroom, Bubba not even paying attention to where he's going

You help him get out of his dirty clothes and lead him into the tub

You also begin lighting some of his favorite scented candles while he sits, him still freaking out

It's only when you get in the tub with him that he calms down

You both sit facing each other, pushing a toy duck back and forth

It's his favorite

His whines of anger slowly turn into giggles as you start throwing bubbles at him

With you, his mood can do a 180 in a matter of minutes

You both end up in a bit of a water fight though, soaking the whole floor

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms is pissed

After chasing around this victim, knocking over furniture, and almost breaking his arm, he is practically ready to burst

You have to hold him tightly to you as you shush him, trying to calm him down

It only seems to work when you suggest taking a bath together to relax

He helps light candles while you tend to the water and bubbles

About makes you fall when he drags you into the tub with him, making you sit right in front of him

Gets very touchy and wants to help you get clean

But you also switch the roles too, helping him wash up even though he insists on just washing you

He eventually relaxes though, closing his eyes as you run your fingers through his hair

You both end up falling asleep together, only waking once the water cools

Norman Bates

He doesn't quite remember what had him so upset, but all he knows is that he needs some down time

When he walks through the door to see that you've already made him his favorite tea, he gives you the kindest smile

You offer a warm bath to help ease him, and he simply requests that you join as well

You both sip on your mugs while you catch up on everything that happened today

He enjoys talking with you

And having you cuddled up against him makes it all even better

He doesn't even remember feeling upset before

He just closes his eyes and leans his head back, still silently listening to you talk

Billy Loomis

He comes home silently fuming

(He got out most of his yells and punches earlier)

Before you can even ask about his day, he is grabbing you and pulling you to the bathroom with him

Doesn't say anything, just starts the bath and begins piling his dirty clothing onto the floor

Once the tub is full, he's pulling you in with him, wrapping his arms around you roughly

You both don't have to say anything, just finding comfort in being with each other during this time

He does take this moment to just reflect though, thinking of all the ways to kill in the future so another victim doesn't give him such a hard time

But don't worry, he's back to his usual self once the water has cooled

You both end up cuddling on the couch, still wrapped in your towels

Stu Macher

The moment you see his face through the door, he's on a tangent

He's telling you all about what happened, but he's talking so fast that you can barely keep up with him

And the whole time he's ranting, he's stripping off his clothes, rummaging through bags of chips, and pushing you towards the bathroom

You still don't understand how someone can multitask as much as him

He's helping you undress, still talking about how terrible the victim was and how frustrated he is feeling

But the moment he's in the tub, he's all lovey dovey

Insists on being held by you, wanting to be babied

He didn't even let the bath fill completely before hopping in, so he's practically yelling over the sound of the water

But it's worth it to be with him when he's so needy

Eric Draven

Even just one person escaping means another crime waiting to be committed in Eric's eyes

So when he comes home, his head hung a bit low, you immediately know

He sits beside you and leans into your arms, listening to your quiet reassurances

Once his mood seems a little lighter, you hurry into the bathroom and get the water running

You already had plenty of candles lit since Eric enjoys the gentle light they provide

He gets in the tub first, making sure the water isn't too hot or cold for you

Then, he opens his arms wide with a soft smile

You sit between his legs and let his full frame engulf you

Making you feel safe and secure is a guaranteed way to make Eric feel content

It never fails

Vincent Sinclair

He's absolutely exhausted

He just wants to lay with you and feel your hand in his hair

The moment he comes home and finds you waiting by the bathroom, a soft smile on your face, he's instantly put in a better mood

And this joy only increases when he sees the gentle flicker of the candles and the soapy bubbles of the tub

Immediately pulls you into a long hug, physically relaxing in your arms

And the moment the warm water engulfs him?

He's literally in heaven

Will gladly let you wash his hair and rub the soap along his back

That tough victim he dealt with just an hour before is long gone from his mind

He knows that whenever he needs fixing, you're the one to come to

Bo Sinclair

Bo isn't very easy to calm down

When he storms in, a scowl on his face, you can tell that things didn't go well for him

You just let him rage around for a bit, waiting patiently for him to calm down on his own

You can always tell he's feeling better once his eyes meet yours

"I have the bath running" is all you have to say

Bo gently nods

He'll never admit it, but during moments like these, he just wants to be pampered and babied

Leans his full weight against you, sighing in relief as the bubbles engulf him

"You always know just what I need, darlin'"

Expects long scalp massages and gentle squeezes along his arms

But don't worry, he's sure to return the favor, pressing soft kisses to your bare shoulders

Won't let you leave the tub until he's ready, and that's usually when the water has turned cold

Lester Sinclair

Although he doesn't really participate in the killings, he's still expected to help clean up

And boy, did his brothers leave him with quite the mess

He comes home filthy, his white t-shirt no longer recognizable

"Oh, honey. Looks like you need a bath."

His frustrated gaze softens quickly when looks at you

"Please," he insists

He pulls you in with him, wanting you to hold him so close that he is literally engulfed by you

Gazes at the different candles you lit while you talk to him softly

Even if his day didn't go well, he still wants to hear about yours

It's the best way to lighten his mood, knowing everything you were up to while he was out

[devnmon]

dating sweet boy astarion core

SFW/NSFW

Astarion is one to always make sure you have the things you need to be comfortable on your travels. He even slips any extra scrolls he know will benefit you into your pack when you're not looking. And always reminds you how he admires you for making the hard choices on your journey together.

Your star learns how to appreciate a true loving touch because of you. Since then, he's grown touchy more than ever, practically craves it more than a fresh drink of blood.

When he feels safe with you, it's easier for him to be himself and that includes making skin to skin contact with you whenever he can. It's a type of security for him. To make it known how much trust he’s put into you.

Truly enjoys the moments at night before he rests his eyes, the domesticity of how calm and quiet you become when falling into a restful state.

He listens, intently. So intently that the minute you begin to open up to him he holds every detail close to his heart. everything you tell him about your past, the inbetween parts of your life leading up to where you were in that current moment with him. He feels luckier than life to be the individual you entrust with this part of you, with your love, with your life even at times. You're assured he has your back against everything the adventure throws at you. You just didn’t think one of the things thrown at you would be him.

He gets really flustered when you compliment him out of the blue. As in his cheeks turn pink and he brushes it off like nothing. But you reassure him no matter how many compliments it takes.

One thing I fully believe is that he would definitely be the type to pay close attention to what fabrics you admire in the many shops you pass through, only wishing you had enough gold to pay for something nice for yourself. Only to surprise you with a custom made outfit with precisely picked fabrics and tones for you.

Absolutely loves when you read to him in camp; not only does he love to listen to your voice, but he could just about sit there forever until you get tired.

Most definitely takes pride in watching you fight, whether that's speaking an incantation perfectly for a spell or striking a foe with your weapon, he's always one to shower you with praise afterwards.

Astarion is totally sure he's unworthy of your affection after everything he's done. You make him aware of the fact that he deserves you even so.

You first asked him if it was okay to play with his hair while you rested together after a battle. It was then you found the elf to absolutely melt under your soft touches. you're also the only person he allows to play with or touch it.

When you accidentally brushed against his ever so sensitive ears, he just about whined with a desire to chase more of the sensation from you. But in turn… you found out how riled up he could get from it and had to pick and choose when you'd take advantage of it. [more on this later tehe]

He loves to kiss your neck, but what he was surprised to learn is that he loves when his is kissed as well. Especially when you run your fingers over his adams apple. Just him learning how to accept a new form of touch that makes the hair on his skin stand tall.

He was always on the giving end of affection when he was forced to lure pretty things back for his master, but now that he's free, he learns to welcome your touches and receive them without hesitation.

When you wear rings for whatever reason, whether because you like them or for their arcane abilities, he loves to slip them off by way of his rogue skill, playing with them on his own fingers before you even notice. You usually have to give him a few kisses to get him to give them back.

Speaking of rings, once he realizes how much you mean to him, he slips away from camp and finds a jewelry shop, choosing a ring he felt would compliment your style and one he knew he'd love to see you wear for him every day. Like a reminder of the bond you two share. Once he gifts it to you, you're so enthralled that you take off one of your random ones you thought was pretty, and give it to him without hesitation. Perhaps it was one that could always locate him or give him an extra boost in battle. Either way, he would never take it off.

You like to make silly jokes about vampire myths, like ones about garlic and crucifixes to make him chuckle.

Astarion adores the little nicknames you give him, whether theyre a sweet petname or a non-serious one that you knew he liked to laugh with you at.

Always makes sure you're tucked into his body when you fall asleep next to him in camp. But when he's the one to fall asleep first, he wakes the next morning to your arms wrapped around his waist, making sure he's close to you.

Loves giving you forehead kisses. especially after battle when you run to his arms to make sure he's alright, nothing bruised, broken or cursed.

Astarion definitely has some very severe abandonment issues, so if you wander too far from him he's the first to reach out through the tadpole and ask where you've gone. When he does find you again he sticks to your side like glue, lacing your fingers together.

NSFW

Astarion would be the type to worry he wouldn't be able to hold out long enough in bed for you both to be satisfied. It's in the moment you both decide to take it slow during your first time. With you, Astarion learns how to control his body and hold out for as long as you needed him to. Because. He reaaallyyy likes you. He wouldn't want to get all worked up and expend himself before he'd even gotten the chance to touch you.

Considering Astarion's history, he would want to be dominant in the bedroom after not having control over his life and decisions for years. He takes pride in being in control and you simply let him because not only does it look good on him, but there's a certain flair in the way he smiles when you do exactly as he says.

Though after a while he finds being in charge most of the time gets him pent up in ways he can't begin to imagine. The two of you are intimate enough that he finds himself wanting you to take pleasure from him. He desires your dominating touch over him and hopes you'll agree when he asks you about it. So when you do, he's enthralled with excitement and practically itches with anticipation at first sight of dominance from you.

Astarion's ears are sensitive. It's not just the elven shape or vampiric hearing that makes them so, but he quite enjoys the way you softly touch and kiss them that it gets him riled up more than he can fathom. He once dreamt of you touching them during sex and woke up in cold sweats with a raging hard on.

Thus, he absolutely will whine involuntarily when you brush your fingers over them, either on accident while you're touching his curls or purposely.

He hasn't had someone touch him in a loving way in so long, and the first time you decide to have sex, it's an emotional and vulnerable thing for him. He may shed more than a few tears during and after, a statement that shows how his vulnerability shines through when he trusts someone enough.

Each thrust fills you with the devotion he carries in his heart, pledging himself to you over and over. When you praise as he brings you to the peak of your pleasure, it’s enough to make him moan just from that.

He tells you "i love you" when he comes, breathlessly as he ties your soul to his in an everlasting knot.

One night if you've indulged on a bottle of wine or two, he'll drink from you to quite literally get drunk off your blood. Not only does the closeness and intimacy of the act turn you on, but the way his lips suck against your neck has you grinding up against his thigh. He takes so much pride in the way your body responds to him.

The first night you touch him intimately, he's brazen with the sounds he makes since he's still trying to make sense of the fact that you want him like this… And it's because you love him that you want him to know how much you adore and see the good in him. It's something sentimental and sensual to you both at the same time.

You take your time when touching him not just because dragging it out pulls more godly sounds from him, but because you know the second he comes it's over for you. Astarion is of course going to tease and relentlessly drag your pleasure out the same way you've done for him.

On the terms of aftercare, Astarion strokes your hair and is one to ask if everything he did was alright with you. If he was rougher on you during sex, he would make sure you know he didn't mean any of the vulgar things he's said. That also goes along the lines of when he punishes you for teasing him or being reckless during battle. He's always concerned about your wellbeing and state in your afterglow. It looks exceptionally good on you when you know how much he loves and adores you.

[pillow-coded]

To Have and To Hold — Chapter 4

Summary: After weeks of rainchecks, Spencer invites Reader and Maddie to a museum. Flowers, dinosaur facts, and a shared afternoon paintings lead to quiet feelings neither of them are ready to name. Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Slow Burn Series (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: A sickening amount of fluff, Emotional vulnerability, brief discussions of fear of commitment, soft angst. Word Count: 6.2k A/N: The upcoming week is final exams week, so I probably won’t have any time to write until Friday, so enjoy this one because the next chapter might take a while.

Series Masterlist

I hadn’t meant for it to become a habit.

But over the past few weeks, texting Spencer had become the quiet part of my day I looked forward to the most. Sometimes it was Maddie-related—funny things she said, books she liked, questions she asked that I didn’t know how to answer. Sometimes it was just… thoughts. A passing detail. A photo. A line from something I was reading that I thought he’d appreciate.

He always replied. Not immediately, but reliably. Like clockwork.

Sometimes, he even started the conversation. He’d send a picture of a book and caption it, “This reminded me of Maddie,” or text me out of nowhere just to make plans. And every time my phone lit up with his name, something in me would still flutter a little. Stupid, I know. But it did.

Honestly, I thought that would be the end of it—after that moment.

The woman in the café had smiled at us so innocently when she said it—“You guys make a cute family.” Like it was a compliment. Like she hadn’t just dropped a live grenade on the table between us.

Spencer had gone quiet. I had definitely paled. And Maddie, bless her, just beamed like it was the most obvious truth in the world.

The silence afterward only lasted a couple of days, but it was long enough for me to spiral. I was convinced I’d ruined whatever fragile, gentle thing we were building. That maybe I’d let things feel too comfortable. Let the illusion get too close to something real.

But then he texted.

No mention of it. No awkwardness. Just a quiet message asking if we were free for lunch. Like nothing had happened.

Like he didn’t mind the way Maddie clung to his hand.

Like he hadn’t noticed the way I looked at him a little too long when I thought he wasn’t paying attention.

Since then, we’d gone on a few more outings. Parks. Coffee shops. A kid-friendly restaurant with a giant chalkboard wall Maddie still talks about. She always wanted to come along, and I never had the heart to say no. I couldn’t just leave her behind—wouldn’t leave her behind. Spencer never once asked me to.

Still, it all stayed... spaced out. Like we were dancing around something neither of us could name. Like we were orbiting each other on our own time zones.

And maybe that was okay.

Maybe that was safer.

Because the truth is, I still haven’t learned much about him. He’s good at steering conversations away from himself without ever making it feel like he’s hiding something. But I can feel it—there are parts of him I’m not allowed to see yet. Parts he’s still keeping folded up in the quiet. All I really know is that his name is Spencer, he likes reading, he knows magic tricks, and he wears mismatched socks. Maddie started doing that too, ever since he told her it was lucky.

But I want to know more.

And that… that’s the scary part.

It’s one thing to text. To share pancakes and crayon drawings and small talk.

It’s another thing entirely to let someone in.

And it’s not just me. It’s Maddie too. Bringing someone into our life means giving them a seat at the table we built from scratch. It means risk. Change. The kind of hope that creeps in slowly and then dares to stay.

I don’t know what Spencer wants.

But I know how I feel when I’m around him.

And that’s what scares me the most.

Because I can feel myself inching toward something I haven’t let myself want in a long time. Something soft. Something safe. Something that could break if I held it too tightly—or worse, if I let it go too soon.

And lately, with each little pause between messages, with every canceled plan, I’d started to wonder if maybe I was imagining it. If I’d read too much into a handful of slow afternoons and a few gentle smiles.

After the third reschedule in a row, I’d braced for the silence. I thought maybe that was it. That he’d let things fade the quiet way people do when they don’t know how to say goodbye.

But then, last week, his name lit up my phone.

[21:06] Spencer: I owe you both a raincheck or two…

[21:06] Spencer: Any chance Maddie likes museums?

Maddie had been counting down the days.

Literally. She made me draw boxes on the calendar so she could “X” them out every morning. And today? Today, she was vibrating.

She hadn’t stopped talking since she woke up—about the museum, about what she would wear, about whether Spencer would bring his magic tricks (I told her probably not, but she packed two small toys and a glitter pen in case she could convince him).

Getting her ready was a challenge. Every pair of socks was the wrong socks, every braid was too tight or too fuzzy, and somewhere in between breakfast and the meltdown about her shoes, I’d forgotten to get myself dressed.

By the time I finally did, I had seven minutes to spare, hair still damp, mascara uneven, Maddie sitting cross-legged on the couch in a sparkly skirt and mismatched socks, humming a song I didn’t recognize.

We were waiting in the living room when the doorbell rang.

Not a text. Not a honk. Not a call.

He rang the doorbell.

I blinked—thrown for a second. Every guy I’d ever gone out with sent a “here” text at best. One even asked me to meet him at the curb because he didn’t want to parallel park.

But Spencer? He got out of the car. Came to the door. And waited.

And it sounds stupid—maybe it is stupid—but something about that simple act made my chest tighten. Like I'd spent so long lowering my expectations that I forgot how to react when someone raised them without being asked.

I opened the door, still half-wrestling Maddie into her jacket, and froze.

He was holding flowers.

A handful of them. Nothing showy. Nothing polished. They weren’t wrapped in cellophane or tied with a bow. They looked like he’d picked them carefully, worrying if they said too much—or not enough.

It wasn’t supposed to matter. It shouldn’t have mattered.

But it did.

It mattered more than I wanted to admit.

Because no one brings flowers when they think you’re temporary. No one shows up like this unless they mean it—even if they don’t know they mean it yet.

For a second, my heart was too loud in my ears. I barely heard my own voice when I asked, “Are those for me?”

Spencer looked at the bouquet, like he’d just remembered he was holding them, then back up at me with this almost-bashful expression.

“Uh—they’re for both of you,” he said.

It wasn't smooth.

It wasn't practiced.

But it was real.

And it unraveled something small and secret inside me.

Maddie gasped beside me, clapping her hands. “I love flowers!”

Spencer smiled, relieved. “I hoped you might.”

We stepped out together, closing the door behind us. I held Maddie’s hand in one and the bouquet in the other, feeling strangely, stupidly off-balance.

He opened the passenger door for me. Not in that showy, performative way—just... quietly. Thoughtfully. Like it occurred to him that I might appreciate it, and so he did it.

I helped Maddie into the backseat, buckled her in while she mumbled something about wanting to see “real dinosaur bones,” and handed her the flowers to hold on the ride there. She clutched them carefully with sticky fingers and sleepy reverence, like they were a gift from royalty.

Spencer rounded the front of the car, still fiddling with the keys in his hand. He hadn’t said much since the door. Just smiled that small, nervous smile like he didn’t want to scare the moment away.

I slid into the passenger seat, heart still unsettled. Still processing the fact that someone had shown up for me—not just shown up, but done it kindly. Gently. Like I was someone worth showing up for.

He climbed in a second later and shut the door behind him with a soft click.

The drive was quiet at first.

Not uncomfortable—just… still.

Spencer had one hand on the wheel, the other resting awkwardly on his knee like he wasn’t sure where to put it. He kept his eyes on the road, focused, but every so often I’d catch the flick of his gaze in my direction. Quick, subtle. Like he wanted to say something and wasn’t sure if now was the time.

Maddie was humming in the backseat, still cradling the flowers in her lap like they were made of glass. She’d calmed down a little now that we were on route, her excitement softened by the slow lull of the car.

I’d been too in my head to speak.

Too focused on the weight of the morning—on how different it all felt. On the fact that Spencer had shown up. That he hadn’t honked or texted or waited in the car, but had come to the door, flowers in hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.

It wasn’t. Not for me.

People don’t usually show up like that.

Not in my world.

Most of the time, it was all me. Me getting Maddie dressed, packed, calm, fed, out the door. Me smiling through exhaustion. Me covering up the gaps, the silences, the absences. Every date I’d ever gone on before had started with me calculating how much I was going to have to explain—and how little I could afford to feel.

But Spencer didn’t ask for anything. He just… arrived. Quiet. Awkward. Thoughtful. The way someone does when they’re not trying to impress you—just trying to be honest.

And that scared me more than any grand gesture ever could.

I kept staring out the window, pretending I wasn’t overwhelmed, when Maddie’s voice cut through the quiet from the backseat.

"Spencer... have you ever seen real dinosaur bones before?"

He glanced at her in the rearview mirror, smiling faintly. "I have. A long time ago."

Maddie gasped, clutching the bouquet tighter. "Were they huge?"

Spencer chuckled under his breath, the sound low and warm. "Bigger than this car."

Maddie let out a soft whoa, completely awed, and went back to staring out the window like she was preparing herself for greatness.

I watched the exchange quietly, something knotting up and unfurling in my chest at the same time.

He didn’t talk to her like she was a kid he had to tolerate.

He didn’t talk down to her, didn’t correct her, didn’t rush to change the subject back to the adults in the room.

He answered her. Carefully, Thoughtfully. Like her questions deserved real answers. It was such a small thing, barely a ripple in the morning.

But to me... it felt enormous.

Because if there was one thing I'd learned in four years of doing this alone, it was that small things never stay small. They grow roots. They make space.

And somewhere deep inside me, in a place I'd spent a long time pretending wasn't empty, I could feel something beginning to take root.

“Mommy, did you bring my notebook?” Maddie piped up from the backseat, her voice pulling me gently out of my thoughts.

I smiled, twisting slightly in my seat to glance at her. “Yes, sweetheart. And your flower pen too.”

Spencer’s eyes flicked toward me, curious. “Notebook?”

“She likes to take notes,” I explained, trying not to sound as fond as I felt. “Drawings, mostly. But sometimes it’s very important information. Like how many birds she sees at the park, or which dinosaur skeleton is her favorite.”

Maddie beamed like I’d just announced her life's greatest achievements. “I'm gonna write all the dinosaur names today.”

Spencer chuckled, his hands steady on the wheel. “That sounds like serious work.”

“It is,” Maddie said, very seriously. “I’m gonna be a dinoscientist.”

I bit back a laugh. “Paleontologist, baby.”

“That too.”

Spencer smiled wider, a soft huff of breath escaping him. “Dinoscientist has a nice ring to it.”

I leaned my head back against the seat, the corners of my mouth still tugged up, and watched the city slip past the window.

And for the first time in a long time, I let myself be still.

Not anxious. Just... here in this car. With Maddie humming to herself, and Spencer glancing over at me like maybe—just maybe—he was feeling the same thing I was.

The car rolled forward through the city, the hum of the tires against the pavement filling the spaces between us.

Maddie kept herself busy in the backseat, whispering to her notebook, practicing how she was going to introduce herself to the dinosaur bones. Every so often, I'd catch snippets of her "speech" — mostly promises to take good care of them if they needed it, and an offer to let them live in our apartment if they ever got tired of the museum.

Spencer chuckled quietly under his breath once or twice, but he didn’t interrupt her.

He just listened. Like what she was saying mattered.

And every time I caught him smiling to himself, it felt like something small and tender tugging at the edges of my heart.

The city slowly gave way to wider streets, older buildings, familiar signs. We were getting close now. Maddie must've sensed it too, because she started bouncing lightly in her seat, hugging her notebook to her chest.

“We’re almost there, right?” she asked, practically buzzing with excitement.

Spencer glanced at her in the rearview mirror and nodded. “Just a few more minutes.”

She squealed, kicking her feet a little.

“Maddie,” I said, fighting a smile. “Put your seatbelt back on.”

She huffed in that way only a five-year-old could, but obediently clicked the buckle back into place, clutching her notebook tighter like it might launch itself out the window if she let it go.

Spencer glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, his mouth twitching like he was trying not to laugh. Like he was soaking all of it in — the little chaos, the energy, the way the air inside the car felt full in a way that had nothing to do with noise.

And me?

I was soaking him in too.

The careful way he drove. The way he tilted the rearview mirror so he could see her better. The way he didn't act like any of this was too much.

I wasn’t used to that. I wasn’t used to someone easing into my world without me having to make all the room.

He didn’t look out of place here. Not next to me, Not in this car. Not with Maddie babbling about dinosaurs and pens and flower bouquets.

He looked... right. Like he belonged.

And for the first time in a very, very long time, I didn’t feel like I was dragging someone into my life.

It felt like maybe—just maybe—someone was choosing to step into it on their own.

Spencer turned into a side street, the museum parking lot coming into view just ahead.

Maddie gasped the second she saw the giant banners hanging from the front entrance—one with a T-Rex, another with a sprawling star map—and I swear her whole body lit up like a firecracker.

“We’re here!” she cried, already reaching for the door handle.

I laughed again and reached back to steady her. “Hold on, baby. Let’s park first.”

Beside me, Spencer just smiled. Small. Soft. Like maybe he was feeling it too.

Maybe he was a little dazzled too.

As we pulled into the museum parking lot, Maddie’s excitement practically boiled over. She bounced in her seat, craning her neck to look up at the enormous banners fluttering over the entrance.

“There’s a real T-Rex in there!” she squealed.

Spencer chuckled, turning off the engine and shifting in his seat.

I unbuckled and turned around to check her straps, but she was already wriggling free, too excited to stay put.

“Alright, adventurer,” I said, laughing as I grabbed my bag. “Just remember you can’t actually touch the bones, okay sweetie?”

She nodded fiercely, already halfway to the door.

Spencer got out first, rounding the car without hesitation, and opened Maddie’s door for her with the same easy gentleness he’d shown all morning.

No grand gestures. No heavy-handed attempts to impress.

Just a man, showing up.

And somehow, that meant more than anything he could’ve said.

The dinosaur exhibit was exactly the kind of chaos you expect when you mix kids and ancient bones.

Maddie darted from display to display, her notebook clutched to her chest, peppering Spencer with a steady stream of questions he answered with more patience than I thought humanly possible.

We spent nearly two hours winding through towering skeletons, reconstructed habitats, interactive fossil digs. Maddie was determined to "catalogue" every dinosaur in existence, and by the end of it, even Spencer looked a little overwhelmed.

I thought that would be the end of the day—grab a juice box, head back to the car, call it a win.

But just as we were making our way toward the exit, Maddie spotted a set of signs advertising a newly opened exhibition upstairs.

Gustav Klimt.

My heart stuttered a little.

“Mommy that’s your favorite isn’t it?”

Maddie chirped, tugging at my hand.

I froze for half a second, caught between a smile and something heavier.

It wasn’t something I talked about much—art, favorites, the pieces of myself that existed outside of work and grocery lists and getting Maddie to preschool on time.

Spencer looked at me curiously, waiting for me to confirm or deny.

I cleared my throat. “Yeah,” I said, a little more quietly than I intended. “He’s… always been my favorite.”

Spencer’s mouth tugged up at the corner in a soft smile. “Then we should go.”

He glanced at the sign, adjusting the strap of the bag he'd offered to carry without asking, then looked down at Maddie. "You up for one more room, kiddo?"

As soon as we stepped into the Klimt exhibition, Maddie practically vibrated with excitement. She clutched her little notebook to her chest and announced, loud enough to earn a few amused glances, that she was going to copy all the paintings.

"Can I, Mommy? Please?" she asked, already bouncing on the balls of her feet.

The gallery was wide and open, the flow of people calm and easy to track. After a quick sweep of the room, Y/N gave a soft laugh and nodded. "Stay where we can see you."

Maddie took off without hesitation, setting up camp in front of the nearest painting with her crayon poised like a little scholar.

We found a bench nearby, where Y/N and I sat, watching her from a distance. Every few minutes, Maddie would dash to a new painting, plop down cross-legged on the floor, and start scribbling furiously in her notebook — her hair bouncing, her entire body committed to the task like it was the most important thing in the world.

“So,” she said, tilting her head toward the entrance of the exhibit, a teasing smile playing on her lips. “What do you know about Klimt?”

I opened my mouth automatically, ready to recite something — dates, movements, facts. It’s what people expected from me. What I expected from myself. But the truth was, I didn’t know much about him. Not really. Not beyond the basics you could find on a museum plaque.

My hand found the back of my neck, a nervous habit I couldn’t seem to break. “Actually… I’m not too familiar with him,” I admitted.

She blinked at me, visibly surprised. But she didn’t tease. She didn’t laugh.

Instead, she smiled. Something soft flickered across her face—something I didn’t quite know how to name. And for reasons I couldn't fully explain, the way she looked at me in that moment — like my flaws didn’t scare her at all — made something in my chest go strangely, stubbornly warm.

“I have this one book about Klimt,” she said, her voice picking up that soft, thoughtful rhythm that made it impossible for me to think about anything else, “Talking about Klimt’s work, life story, etc… But what I really like about his work, is that he didn’t just paint pretty women with gold leaf. Most of his famous works were about femmes fatales.”

I blinked, trying to keep up, but mostly just stunned by the way she talked. The way her eyes lit up at the sight of the paintings, and talking about how she interpreted them.

“Dangerous women. Women who were beautiful and powerful, beautiful, sensual and a little terrifying.”

I barely heard the rest.

I nodded along, but the truth was—I wasn’t processing most of the words.

Because I was too busy watching her. The way her hands moved when she talked. The way her eyes lit up when she described the paintings, her voice dropping into something soft, almost reverent.

She kept stealing little glances at me like she was trying to see if I cared.

I did.

I cared more than I could explain without embarrassing myself.

I opened my mouth—wanted to say something smart in return, “Did you know—”—but every single fact I had ever known about anything scrambled in my brain like a thousand puzzle pieces tossed into the air.

I swallowed hard. My mouth was dry and I wasn’t even sure I could nod without giving myself away.

She turned toward the biggest painting in the room—the one even people who didn’t know Klimt's name would recognize.

The Kiss.

“Let me guess…” I said, tipping my head. “The Kiss is your favorite?”

“It’s more than just The Kiss being my favorite,” she replied, smiling softly, like she knew a secret I didn’t yet.

“What do you mean?”

“Well... it holds a lot more symbolism than you might think,” she said, her voice warming. “Sure, it’s beautiful. The technique is brilliant. But it’s more than just a beautiful painting.”

“Do explain,” I said, leaning in without meaning to.

She glanced back at the gallery, then at me, her voice dropping a little, like she was letting me in on something sacred.

“My favorite thing about Klimt’s work isn’t just the paintings themselves. It’s the way they fit together. The whole collection tells a story — a subtle one. About the femmes fatales... They keep appearing, over and over again throughout his work.”

I watched her, completely, helplessly captivated. The way her voice curled around each word, the way she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear without even thinking about it.

“Sometimes it’s the same woman, painted in different ways... different poses, different moments. But this one—” she nodded toward The Kiss, her voice dipping even lower, “—this is the only time he shows the woman surrendering.”

She turned back to me then, and there was something unguarded in her face. Something almost reverent.

“But it’s not weakness,” she said. “It’s not defeat.”

Her eyes held mine.

“She’s giving herself to him. Choosing to. Choosing to give yourself completely to someone — whether it’s physical or emotional —” she paused, her smile tilting almost shyly, “—I think it might be the most romantic thing ever.”

And I knew, in that moment, that if I lived to be a hundred years old, I would never—never—recover from her.

My knees felt weirdly, ridiculously weak.

Like if I didn’t keep shifting my weight from foot to foot, I might just sink into the floor and let the museum tiles swallow me whole.

I wanted to say something.

Anything.

But all I could manage was a whisper.

“That’s beautiful…”

She smiled — a little sad, a little knowing — like maybe she could see right through me.

“It is, isn’t it?” she said, voice quieter now. Then, before I could catch my breath, she asked, almost too gently, “It’s also scary. Giving yourself completely... Have you ever felt that way about anyone?”

My mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

Have I ever felt that way about anyone?

Yes, my brain supplied instantly. Too fast. Too loud.

Once.

But the words caught somewhere between my chest and my throat — tangled up in everything I was too terrified to admit out loud.

I glanced down at my shoes, like the scuffed leather might offer an answer.

"I... I don't know," I said finally, because anything more honest felt too dangerous. "Maybe. I think... I think I wanted to..." I swallowed hard. "I don’t think she wanted me to, though."

When I looked up, she was already watching me — so intently it made the back of my neck burn.

Not judging. Not pitying. Just seeing me — with all the sharp, unfinished edges I usually tried so hard to hide.

"Wanting to matters," she said quietly.

Her words landed softer than I deserved. Like she wasn’t trying to fix me. Like she wasn’t expecting more than I could give.

I shifted my weight, needing somewhere else to put all the feeling buzzing under my skin.

“What about you?” I asked, before I could think better of it.

She smiled — small, almost bittersweet — and turned her gaze back to The Kiss.

"I have," she said. Her voice was steady, but there was something behind it — something tired and tender and breakable. “To Maddie."

The way she said it — not as a shield, not as an excuse, but as the absolute, sacred truth — cracked something open inside me.

“I have given myself completely, body and mind to her since she was born. She’s my everything.”

I swallowed, struggling to find the right words, because how do you respond to something like that? How do you look at someone who has already poured everything they are into someone else — and still dare to want more from them? I didn’t know if it was admiration or something closer to longing that tightened in my chest, but I knew, without a doubt, that whatever it was, it was irreversible.

"That’s..." I started, my voice rougher than I intended. I paused, searching her face for some kind of anchor, and found nothing but honesty looking back at me. "That’s the bravest thing a person can do."

For a moment, she just looked at me — really looked — and I had the distinct, terrifying feeling that she could see right through me. See the parts of me that wanted things I wasn’t sure I was allowed to want. Things like this. Things like her.

She smiled, a small, worn thing that hit me harder than it should have. "You say that like it's a choice," she said. "It wasn't. Not really. She needed me. That was all it ever took."

I nodded, even though a part of me still marveled at it — the way she said it so simply, like it wasn’t extraordinary. Like giving yourself away so completely was just breathing. And maybe for her, it was. Maybe it was just in her nature to love like that, fiercely, even when the world had given her every reason to guard herself.

"I think that's what makes it so rare," I said after a moment, my voice lower now, quieter. "Most people spend their whole lives afraid of giving too much."

She tilted her head at me, studying me in that way she did sometimes — curious, but patient. Like she wasn’t afraid of whatever answer she might find.

"And you?" she asked. "Are you afraid?"

The question landed heavier than I expected. I shifted my weight, glancing back at The Kiss like maybe it would save me, but all it did was remind me that once, once in all his paintings, Klimt had dared to show someone surrendering — and it had looked like this. It had looked like choosing to fall.

"I think I am," I said honestly. "But... maybe not as much as I used to be."

Her mouth softened at that — not quite a smile, but something close. She turned slightly, facing the painting again, and for a few seconds we just stood there together, shoulder to shoulder, breathing in the same quiet, golden air.

"You know," she said after a moment, almost playfully, "you still haven’t told me what your favorite piece is."

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, grateful for the shift. For the way she gave me room to catch up when my heart was still tripping over itself.

But before I could, Maddie wormed her way between us, her little hand reaching up to grab mine. She squeezed my hand. A simple, tiny squeeze.

My pulse spiked so fast I actually felt it behind my eyes.

I’ve been shot at, drugged, kidnapped, nearly killed… and somehow this—this—is what sends me spiraling.

She reached for her mom’s hand too, linking us together like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And maybe it was.

But my heart?

My heart absolutely could not handle it.

I could feel it hammering against my ribs, loud and hot and fast. My whole body went warm—too warm—and suddenly the sweater I was wearing felt like it was trying to suffocate me.

Without thinking, I tugged my cardigan over my head in one quick, awkward movement, ruffling my hair and nearly dropping Maddie’s hand in the process.

I was still trying to recover when Maddie piped up brightly, “I’ll put it in my backpack!”

Before I could object, she yanked the sweater from my hand with surprising strength and stuffed it into the tiny purple bag hanging off her shoulder like it was a prize.

I stared at her, dazed. Then looked up.

And saw Y/N watching me.

Smiling.

Not laughing at me.

Not teasing.

Just—smiling. Soft and a little surprised. Like maybe she was seeing something she liked.

And I stood there, overheating in the middle of an art museum, absolutely done for.

We wandered the Klimt exhibition a little longer after that, Maddie skipping ahead sometimes but never letting go of either of our hands for too long. Every once in a while, Y/N would point out a detail in a painting, her voice low and reverent, and I'd pretend I was listening when really all I could hear was the blood rushing in my ears.

By the time we made it to the exit, Maddie was starting to flag—her steps slower, her voice quieter.

We passed by the museum gift shop on the way out, and predictably, she lit up all over again.

"Mommy! Spencer! Look!" she cried, tugging us toward a display of postcards.

There, right in the center, was The Kiss.

She pointed at it like it was a treasure chest. "Can I get this one? Please?"

Y/N started to answer, but I was already moving—reaching for the postcard and bringing it to the register before either of them could argue.

As Y/N wandered the shop with Maddie, I caught her picking up a small Klimt keychain—gold and black, understated, but somehow exactly her.

She turned it over in her hands once, then tucked it back onto the rack like she didn’t really need it.

Before I could stop myself, I grabbed it too.

At the register, I set both the postcard and the keychain down.

The cashier smiled at us warmly. "That'll be it for you three?"

Y/N opened her mouth, already shaking her head. "Actually, it's separa—"

"Yes," I said, before she could finish. "That's it for us."

There was a flicker of something in her eyes.

Surprise. Maybe a little softness too.

She didn’t argue.

The cashier bagged the items with a knowing smile, and I followed them both out into the sunlight, my heart doing something stupid and unmanageable in my chest.

The drive home was quiet.

Maddie fell asleep halfway there, her head tilted awkwardly against her car seat, clutching the little bag from the museum like it was a lifeline.

I stole a few glances at Y/N while I drove. She was staring out the window, one hand resting lightly on her knee, the sunlight catching in her hair.

I didn’t know how to name what I was feeling.

I just knew I didn’t want it to end.

When we finally pulled up outside their apartment, I parked carefully and turned off the engine.

Neither of us said anything right away.

Y/N unbuckled and climbed out, circling around to Maddie's side to lift her out of the seat with a soft, practiced motion. Maddie stirred only a little, murmuring something I couldn't catch before settling back against her mother’s shoulder.

I got out too, awkwardly patting my pockets like I didn’t know what to do with my hands.

When Y/N reached the door, juggling Maddie’s weight and her bag, I hurried to open it for her.

She smiled at me—small. Tired. Soft around the edges.

"I think she had a really good time," she said quietly, adjusting Maddie against her shoulder.

I swallowed, my throat feeling too tight. "I did too."

For a moment, we just stood there — caught in a long, heavy pause where I didn’t know if I was supposed to stay or leave.

Didn’t know if I was allowed to ask if I could come inside. If I even wanted to, considering how flustered I still felt from the museum.

The entire Klimt exhibit was still buzzing under my skin like static, and I knew if I stayed, if I crossed that threshold, I’d probably say something ridiculous.

I might need weeks — months — to recover from today.

Y/N smiled then, just a little. A soft, knowing thing.

Like she could hear every panicked thought rattling around in my head... but decided not to call me on any of it.

She didn’t say anything else.

And neither did I.

I just gave a small, awkward wave — fingers fluttering up and falling almost immediately — before backing away toward the steps, feeling like I was leaving a part of myself behind.

The drive home was agony.

Every song on the radio sounded like her. Every red light stretched too long. I couldn't stop thinking about her — not for a single second.

Her words clung to me, looping through my mind.

Her face — the way she smiled, the way her eyes softened when she talked about surrender and choosing love — made my heart thud so hard it almost hurt.

I kept picturing her painted into one of Klimt’s works — all gold and light, beautiful and powerful and untouchable — like if I reached out, I might smudge her into something even more breathtaking.

By the time I pulled into my driveway, I was convinced I wouldn’t sleep for a week. Maybe longer.

And maybe she was thinking about me too.

Because as soon as I stepped inside, my phone buzzed in my pocket.

[19:34] y/n: Hey, you forgot your sweater in Maddie’s backpack.

[19:34] y/n: We’ll be at home all day tomorrow. Feel free to drop by for your sweater.

I stared at the screen, a smile tugging stupidly at my mouth before I even registered it.

[19:35] Spencer: I’ll stop by :)

I locked my phone and stood there for a long moment, sweaterless and half-delirious, grinning like an idiot in the middle of my empty kitchen.

Tomorrow suddenly felt like the only thing worth waiting for.

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taglist : @smithieandy @kspencer34 @person-005 @diffidentphantom @23moonjellies @reidssoulmate @imaginationfever13 @measure-in-pain @Reidrs @un-messed @rhinelivinglife @Skye-westwood @xxfairyqueenxx @alrat13 @saskiaalonso

[twistmusings]

Character Analysis of the Twisted Wonderland Dorm Rooms - Heartslabyul

Not my usual content, exactly, but I thought this was interesting while I was researching for one of my upcoming posts!

Though the characters are in dormitories, they actually show really great characterization in the way they organize and lay out their rooms.

Long and with lots of images, so they are put under a cut.

Dorm Room Character Analysis Series

Heartslabyul | Savanaclaw | Octavinelle | Scarabia | Pomefiore | Ignihyde | Diasomnia

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle has a lot of books. As in, so many that they aren't able to be contained to the larger bookshelf provided to the Dorm Leader. They have been stacked on top, as well as used to fill the smaller bookshelf to the left and stacked on top of that as well, and then also throughout the rest of the room. Little man is the highest ranking member of the library's readers club.

It is of note that Riddle's dorm is not as organized as you might think at first glance. I know a lot of people look at Riddle and oftentimes peg him as being the hyper-organized person with seems to be impossibly able to maintain how many tasks he has to balance. While that's not entirely untrue, and his room is far from messy, he does have books left open on his ottoman and stacked up on his nightstand that he was, most likely, reading in bed. His single framed art in his room is hung crookedly - and this is not a stylistic choice for the Heartslabyul dorm as some of the strange furniture. Both Deuce and Cater have similar wall decorations, but they are not hung crookedly.

Riddle is the only character to have a repeated motif of a broken heart in his decorations in Heartslabyul. Given what all we know about him and his history with his mother, this is fitting, if a little sad. Little details like this make me love to look at these rooms because you can see so much of how the designers considered the characters and their stories when designing their rooms.

Riddle also has a bouquet in a vase of Roses and White Lillies. While Red roses are a rather obvious motif throughout Heartslabyul, White Lillies are thought to symbolize purity, commitment, and rebirth. These are all strong character themes in Riddle's story.

Ace Trappola

We know that Ace likes card trick, as he learned them from his older brother, but I feel like it gets a little lost on a lot of the fandom that he likes magic tricks in general unless you pay close attention to his room card. He's got a magic wand, magic cups, and magic balls.

He likes basketball enough that he has an entire book dedicated to basketball and a hoop installed in his room.

He either has a spare dorm uniform jacket, or when he's in his room he takes off his uniform jacket and just walks around in the patterned vest and t-shirt. It's also possible, given that his brother was also assigned to Heartslabyul, that it's a hand-me-down jacket from his elder brother.

Ace has a card motif throughout his room, which is a cute touch considering he's based on one of the card soldiers. More than likely, it's because he does like card tricks and games. Of note, he also has a little callback to Deuce being his friend in his spade side table and the rest of his dorm as his rug features the Ace of Hearts, Spades, Diamonds, and Clubs.

Ace's desk doesn't seem to see a lot of use, considering that he has a tower of cards on it, which are notorious for being fragile and falling apart with too much movement. Given that we know in canon he doesn't like to study all that much, it makes sense - more than likely he built it while avoiding studying and then it hasn't been jostled because he hasn't really used his desk since.

Both Ace and Deuce (coming up) have not added personalized bedsheets to their bed as opposed to the rest of their dorm, and they're both freshmen,

As has been pointed out before, Deuce shares a room with Ace.

Deuce, of course, has magic wheel posters on his wall.

Deuce's desk is well used, and he has additional bookshelves hung on his wall. Deuce has notes sticking out of some of his books. He also seems to have a book on ducks and either cats/grim (it could be a book on magical beasts, but it's an interesting detail to add). - see addendum!

Deuce has a framed photo on his desk. I would guess this is probably a family photo of him and his mom, though I cannot confirm this.

Deuce has a jacket hanging on his wall, and while at first glance it might be easy to assume it's a PE Jacket or a Track Jacket, it doesn't match the NRC track uniform or PE uniform. This, actually, based on the cut, seems to be a motorcycle jacket, likely for riding magic wheels. It could also be something leftover from his delinquent days.

Cater's room is actually full of characterization, there are so many little details in his room it isn't funny.

To begin with, it seems like Cater's favorite color might be Orange, given that he's the only one in his dorm so far who has a noticable amount of it that breaks away from the normal Heartslabyul colors. This, of course, could be a design choice because Cater's hair is ginger, but consider that across the board it seems like quite a bit of thought was put into what goes into a character's room. Ace, for example, doesn't feature orange in the same way, and Deuce only features a small bit of blue in his rug. If someone was decorating a room, the likely reason to have so much of one color is because you really like that color, or because it matches the theme of a room. Since we know the latter isn't true, it's likely the former. Orange, symbolically, is often used to portray enthusiasm, agreeableness, and excitement when talking about color symbolism, and that tracks as that's the sort of image that Cater tends to display toward other people even if his own emotions are complex in canon.

Cater has a lot of hobbies in his room - which makes sense because canonically he does a lot of various hobbies. Cater is the sort of person who seems to be deeply into experimenting with who he is and who he wants to be.

Though Cater takes a lot of photos with his phone camera in the story, he also has what appears to be a DSLR camera.

He, of course, shows his love of music by having a small stereo, his guitar, and a pair of headphones next to his computer.

Speaking of Cater's computer, it takes up the majority of his desk, which is fitting for someone who wants to be an influencer.

Cater has a sweater at the ready on the back of his chair, leading me to believe he probably gets cold easily.

Cater also has a skateboard. I don't recall Cater ever talking about skateboarding in canon, but it's possible I missed it. Regardless, he has one - whether or not he can use it is a different story entirely.

Faces on everything. Similar to Ace, Cater's rug is a callback to all of his dormmates, though he also has a couple of emoji-like pillows/plushies. Emojis, of course, are a hallmark of digital communications so it fits with his character, though they are notably cheery and cute. I have to wonder how Cater's decor might be different if he was more honest about how he feels as opposed to playing a character most of the time.

Trey's room, similar to Cater, keeps in with having a notable color scheme with the color green. Again, this is the same color as his hair, however as was the reasoning was explained with Cater, this likely means that Green is Trey's favorite color. Green is a color associated with harmony, focus, efficiency and security.

Trey's room is notably more sparsely decorated than the other students. Most of the Heartslabyul cast have something - a photo hanging up, a unique piece of furniture, etc, however Trey really only has his hat stand. If you were to consider Cater one end of a spectrum that leans maximalist, Trey is the opposite, leaning much more minimalist.

It's also of note that Trey is probably the most organized person we've seen so far, even surpassing Riddle. His books are all kept in vertical rows, he has a pen holder on his desk, and he has a hat-stand to keep his hats. Everything in his room has a place, and there is no notable clutter.

Given that we know that Trey likes to bake, he probably doesn't spend much of his free time in his room, which is likely part of why it's so sparsely decorated outside the bed.

Similar to how Ace has a callback to Deuce, and how Deuce has a callback to Grim, Trey's rug is a clover that is divided into the shape of hearts, which is Riddle's motif, and a cute callback to them being childhood friends.

Addendums:

Several people have pointed things out in the comments, so I figured that I would go ahead and add them to this main post as well as they come in.

@margorako has pointed out that the jacket in Decue's room is indeed his jacket he wore during his delinquent days. As was featured in the Twisted Wonderland Manga. I thought it looked familiar, but this confirms that a) it's a magic wheel jacket, and b) that it is embroidered on the back. Great eye!

@eternalsnowfan02 mentioned that Cater does indeed skateboard, as is confirmed in his Union Jacket Birthday card when Jamil purchases him stickers for his skateboard. This means he is, in fact, a Skater Boy.

@xhazmia Pointed out that the book that features a head that appears to be Grim's Head is actually likely the hidden mickey for Deuce's room. Good eye! My vision is bad™ so I'm not usually the best for picking these out in the bedrooms in TWST. I managed to spot a few in the other rooms where they were pretty obvious though:

I have not managed to spot the one for Trey's room, but in looking closer I did notice something else.

This object on Trey's bookshelf is a glasses container, lending further to the notion that he's the most organized of the characters in Heartslabyul.

[coopersadams]

knees deep

cooper is a fast mover. you're not sure you mind. 802 words.

saw someone talking about cooper fluff and i was like 😵‍💫 written as a light prequel to this but not a necessary read at all.

cooper takes saturday morning breakfast seriously. 

you spend most saturday mornings at the kitchen island, watching him whisk, scramble, toast, and plate breakfast by himself. it’s endearing, the amount of effort he puts in. it’s a routine by now, but you still see the perfectionism at play. you watch him take a second to look at every plate, to take a bite of everything, just to make sure it’s all right. he refuses help (“i want to spoil you guys”) and after a few months together, you had learned not to push him to change his mind. 

riley and logan wouldn’t give it a second thought if something wasn’t exactly right (they ate so fast, you weren’t sure they would even notice). it makes cooper’s attention to detail all the more endearing. 

“so…” he starts, and you lift your head to look at him. 

you’re surprised he says anything. he usually bounces back and forth, humming to himself or murmuring about the texture of the eggs. you’re mostly there for silent company; you read or scroll through your phone at the counter, waiting for him to ask you to get the kids. your interest is piqued. “yes?”

“i was talking to the kids this week,” he says, pulling plates from the cupboard. you can see the tiny upturn of his lips, the way he always looks when he’s holding his cards close to his chest. 

“i should hope so,” you tease, ignoring the good natured roll of his eyes. 

he looks so nonchalant, plating the food in the same way he always does. eggs first, one waffle for each plate, fruit last. such a creature of habit. it makes you grin. “we were talking about how much time you spend here.”

it’s a little bit of a wake up call, and you find yourself sitting up straighter. “oh.”

like he can sense your anxiety—and he can, you’re sure. he knew all your tells. no one could read you quite like cooper. “we were thinking that it might be easier for everyone if you just moved your things in here.” you blink once, and then twice, and then cooper is turning away from the plates lined up in front of him to look right at you. “since you’re here all the time anyway.”

“oh,” you say again, cheeks warm at your lack of wit. 

it’s fast. it’s a little too fast. but it’s also a little too exciting. cooper had a tendency to move fast, like he was working on a predetermined timeline. you hadn’t minded. you love cooper. you love his kids. you love the house. you love being with them, like you fit into the unit. 

“but…my apartment,” you mumble, spinning around in your stool.

cooper sighs. a real, true dad sigh, like he knew this might take some convincing. he rounds the counter to stand in front of you, hands resting on your thighs. “we can pay for it until the lease ends, honey. or we can sell it. whatever you want.” we. like it was his, too. you think you might like that. you aren’t sure yet. “and we can turn the den into that library you’re always talking about.”

you suck in a breath, looking at his hands on your skin. his thumbs rub little circles right at the edge of your shorts, and you take a moment to consider the proposition. you had been together for six months; before you met cooper, you would have laughed at yourself for even considering it. you wouldn’t have considered it, not with anyone else. but you trust cooper. he had been nothing but open with you; he had laid himself all out, asking for your full acceptance or nothing at all. you love him. you feel safe with him.

“you should know…i don’t like to do the dishes,” you say, like it might be a dealbreaker.

he grins. “i know.”

“and i don’t do yard work.”

“that’s alright,” he promises. “you’ll never have to.”

your legs spread only slightly, but it’s enough for him to fit himself between them. his hands slide from your thighs to wrap around your waist. you continue, “and i don’t like your duvet cover.”

he tries to look irritated. “you don’t like my duvet cover?”

you lean into him, chests pressed together. “no. it’s so…white.”

part of you is screaming; your brain is telling you no, absolutely not, it’s not a good time. your heart doesn’t want to listen. any trepidation you feel disappears when he smiles down at you, hand reaching up to brush the high of your cheekbone. “got it. new duvet cover.”

“and everyone’s going to talk,” you remind him.

he leans in, lips brushing yours when he says, “i don’t care.”

it’s enough for you. it's more than enough for cooper.

[tvangelique]

i saw you reblogging the asks game and HELLO HELLO i'm so up.

🌽 ⊹ ࣪ ˖ meet cute corn : how did you meet? through friends, maybe work… or did you bump into them on the street? how long until you became friends?

🫒 ⊹ ࣪ ˖ delightful olive : what’s a little thing they do that always makes you happy? is it a quirk? or is it an act of service done for your favor? is it done intentionally?

͏͏ 𖥔 the asks game . . or something like that . ͏͏ ͏͏ ❜͟

𓉳̸ my book dr ( or ashes of saint mercy ) . . 💭

( hi EMM, thank you for the ask 💗💗 )

🌽 ⊹ ࣪ ˖ meet cute corn : how did you meet? through friends, maybe work… or did you bump into them on the street? how long until you became friends?

okay. so. i met my friends in. wouldn’t you guess it? school. of course, we were the oddest bunch, a collection of people that shouldn’t work, but do. at first, it was me and this girl named dalila, a pretty lady from the deserts of khemoria ( which would be today’s egypt ), the first thing that drew me towards her was her energy. she’s so beautiful, on the outside & inside—but she’s possible to miss if you don’t pay more attention because she’s so quiet. i think soft spoken is a better way at putting it. definitely not someone you expect at a military academy. ( IN A GOOD WAY !! )

me and her became close at the start of the semester, while the others . . took awhile to get used to. jikiina was a PROBLEMM. a prestige girl who emerged from the hoshino clan, daughter of a shogun, really stereotypical because she didn’t know any better ( especially towards dalila, poking fun at her native culture, muttering sly words about a foreign going to the school. it was awful. ) she only comes around after the war really starts to develop and she’s forced to choose between her mother, who wants to upstage the main clan * cough * cult * cough * running the country or us, and that’s where she becomes a revolutionary.

kaju. this man was a DICK. throughout school and up to the war, you can just hear this agitating voice going on and on about neutrality. yeah, well, you CANNOT be neutral when there’s oppression involved, i don’t care how deep your ideologies from home go, that doesn’t make it a fair war. ( he figured this out the hard way ) now. you’ll be asking. “solana! how did you two become close, then???” remember what i said about him learning the hard way? yeah. it comes at the cost of his boyfriend, whom i think is a jerk anyway ( i wouldn’t say this to his face )

lastly. the man himself. i don’t have an exact time i can pinpoint for when me and nakahara become “ friends? ” he just stopped wanting to kill me one day, and here we are, making quiet, berated promises to each other while i’m patching his wounds. a bunch of life saving and ya-di-da! i’m in his bed! ( we’re just insanely. codependent when it comes to each other. long story. )

🫒 ⊹ ࣪ ˖ delightful olive : what’s a little thing they do that always makes you happy? is it a quirk? or is it an act of service done for your favor? is it done intentionally?

✷ dalila sahu ── everytime we come back from a battle of some sort, she’s always there to dress our wounds and provide comfort. she’s nowhere near to be a therapist, but she’s close, and it’s always appreciated.

✷ kaju akiita ── the fact that his loyalties shift means he’ll do anything in his power to make sure you know he’s in it for the long run. if he’s truly on your side, you’ll know, he’s less likely to leave you to die than others. ( mostly joking with this one )

✷ hoshino jikiina ── so, i’ve talked about her becoming a revolutionary, but i wanna go into ( slight ) detail about how that changed her. you can genuinely see an improvement as her ideologies shift, and she’s a real gift giver. i’ve come across her paintings before, stashed away until she’s ready to give them out. she pays excruciating detail to a person.

✷ nakahara akuma ── he’s also really perceptive, but in a different way. akuma has the tendency to pry a person’s life open like a book, if there’s something he remembers, he’ll make sure you know. he’s not afraid to correct someone on a single detail, but gets really surprised when another person does the same, so this seems to be unintentional. or the more disappointing option, he doesn’t think he’s that important to be looked at in the same light. too bad for him, i do it anyway.

[osohchoso]

Blood and Chains

Chapter Three- Coffee and Pizza

Choso x F!reader

Previous | Chapter Index | Next

Content: very fluffy slice-of-life chapter, friendships, multiple pov, protective Choso, comfort, the creepy pizza man

˚　　　　✦　　　.　Choso's POV　 . ✦　　 . ★⋆.

A few more days pass by and Choso still hasn't sent the first text. Not because he didn't want to talk to you, but simply because he couldn't remember how to start a new text message. He's fine with responding to an incoming text, but starting a new one is a whole other story. He curses himself for not putting his number in your phone too. Learning how to navigate the world's technology has been harder than some of the special grade curses he's faced in the past four years.

He sits on the couch in his apartment, a random nature documentary playing on the TV in front of him. Barely paying attention, just using it for some comforting background noise as he stares at your contact in his phone. His fingers hover over the different options, wanting to guess which one will start a message. A worrying thought of pressing the wrong option and deleting your number all together passes through him, there isn't a guarantee he will accidentally run into you a third time. He knows you are probably disappointed that he hasn't reached out, or maybe you have forgotten all about him by now. He lets out a sigh and locks his phone, setting it face down on the couch.

CLICK! He hears a key twist in the front door, turning his head to watch as Yuji walks in. His brother instantly kicks off his shoes and drops his backpack by the door, letting out an exasperated sigh. Since the night Choso found you in the woods, Yuji has been off on a mission several cities away chasing down a group of sneaky special grades.

Yuji makes his way over to the couch and flops down, resting his head against the armrest and swinging his legs up onto Choso’s lap like a footstool. He offers his little brother a warm smile in return.

“How was your mission?” Choso asks.

“Exhausting!” Yuji groans dramatically. “I’m so glad to finally be back home” He then delves into the details about how him, Megumi and Nobara pushed their limits each day. Exorcizing a group of curses that were running from city to city. Thankfully, there were no injuries between the three of them. Choso listens intently, nodding from time to time, making sure to give Yuji his undivided attention.

“Nobara and Megumi are coming over tonight, we need a day to celebrate and relax after this mission” Yuji finishes.

“Hmmm…sounds like a good idea. What should we do tonight?” Choso asks. He loves hanging out with Yuji’s friends. Ever since the brothers connected with each other, they always made sure Choso felt welcome. It was nice, considering Choso doesn't really have any friends he can call his own. Ideas run through his head for tonight. Movies, takeout, game night…the options are endless.

“Actually…” Yuji’s sheepish voice brought him back to the present. Choso looks over at his brother and notices how he looks away, avoiding his gaze. Choso tilts his head and blinks at him, confused.

“I was hoping it would just be the three of us tonight…” Yuji continues, pulling his legs off of Choso and sitting up straight on the couch to look at him. “The three of us haven't had a day where it's just us hanging out in forever…please forgive me big bro” Yuji apologizes, closing his eyes and pressing his hands together while he begs for forgiveness. Choso was never upset, could never even stay upset at him.

“Don’t worry about me…it’s fine.” Choso reaches over and pats Yuji’s head. “You're allowed to have some alone time with your friends. I’m sure you don’t want your big brother hovering around you forever.” he chuckles. Yuji lets out a sigh of relief and opens his eyes again, thankful for not hurting his feelings.

“Maybe I’ll see if my new acquaintance wants to hang out tonight too” Choso smiles, this could be the perfect excuse to text you. And now Yuji is here to help make that text happen. Choso explains briefly about his meeting with you, how he got your number.

“OOOOOO!” Yuji teases. “You have a girl’s number!” he pokes Choso in the cheek with his index finger. Choso swats his hand away, blushing slightly.

“It’s not like that! I hardly know her” Choso protests. “Just promise me you’ll keep this between us. I don't want Nobara spreading rumors to every Jujutsu sorcerer we know” He also wants to keep you very far away from the world of curses and he is taking what feels like a huge risk to even see you. Choso holds his pinky up, which Yuji instantly locks his pinky around his.

“I promise.” Yuji smiles, and the two pull their fingers apart. “I’m just glad you're open to meeting new people again. After everything that happened with-”

“Don’t say her name” Choso interrupts him before he can finish, his eyes darken with anger. The black mark over his nose slightly changing its shape uncontrollably. “I don't want to hear her name ever again.” Yuji looks at him guilty, mouthing a quick 'I’m sorry'. Choso takes a deep breath to calm himself and relaxes his face, the black mark returning to its usual thick rectangle. He shakes his head to dismiss the painful memories before they can surface.

“This girl is different…” he trails off. “And I can't stay your shadow forever Yuji, I need to start finding my own friends too I guess.” Choso looks down at his hands as he admits this. He knew he would have to accept this one day or another. One day his brother will move out on his own to explore his own path in life. Then Choso will start to see him less and less. He hopes they won't grow apart and knows Yuji will always make an effort to spend time with him, but he's afraid of losing his brother. His only family he has.

“I think making new friends is a great idea, brother.” Yuji pats Choso on his back, flashing his unforgettable warm smile. It’s contagious, causing Choso to smile back.

“Okay…I need your help.” Choso picks his phone back up, unlocking it and opening your contact info again. “Don’t be mad Yuji…I forgot how to start a new text message again.” Choso laughs as he shows the screen to his brother. Yuji rolls his eyes, tapping the speech bubble icon on the contact page, effortlessly opening to a blank message. A line flashes in the empty text area, beckoning Choso to type.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　Your POV　 . ✦　　 . ★⋆.

You lean against the counter of the cafe, your shift dragging on. Only a few hours left until 5pm, closing time. Though the cafe really starts to die down after 3pm each day, currently there isn't a single customer. You wish you could close up early and call it a day, but there is always a chance of someone coming in for a late-night caffeine rush. You glance over at your younger coworker Sara, texting away on her phone. Her fingers typing furiously as she makes plans for tonight, Friday night. You sigh and pull your own phone out, knowing there isn't going to be anything. Ever since you gave Choso your number, you keep checking for a message, hoping for something that never arrives. Defeated, you slide the phone in the back pocket of your jeans. You frown. You were used to men ghosting you, but this time it hurt more for some reason.

BUZZ! Your phone vibrates in your pocket, startling you out of your self-pity. You quickly pull it back out. Unlocking the screen and staring at the message from the unsaved number.

Unknown number: Hey

You stare at it in disbelief. Is this him? Did he actually decide to text me? Excitement bubbles in your stomach as you type your response. He didn’t forget about you after all.

You: Hello, who is this?

You send your response, though you already know the answer. The next text comes instantly.

Unknown Number: Choso

You smile to yourself as you read his name again. You save his number in your contacts immediately. Sara looks over, a teasing smirk on her face.

“Who are you texting, Y/N?” she inches closer.

“None of your business,” you say, though your words have no bite to them. Sara just laughs and looks back at her own phone. You roll your eyes at your nosey coworker. She loves to gossip, loves to give unsolicited advice and loves to play matchmaker. It's annoying sometimes but in a little sister sort of way. You look back to your phone, noticing another text from Choso.

Choso: What are you doing?

You: Working :p

Choso: Oh…what do you do?

You: I work at Papa Coffee. It’s a cute café, you should come try it sometime.

Your heart races as you wait for his next text. The thought of seeing him with his silly pigtails in the cozy café decorated by your art, it warms your heart.

Choso: I looked it up, it's not far from my apartment actually.

Choso: Hey, want to hang out tonight? After you're done working?

You hold your breath as you read the last text. Hang out, he wants to hang out with you. Tonight! Yes, yes, yes! You say inside your head. You hear Sara giggle as she sees your eyes light up, smile growing bigger.

You: Sure, what do you want to do? :)

Choso: Soo…I don’t want to seem weird. But my brother is kicking me out for the night LOL. I can bring a movie if we can hang at your place??

My place? You think about your tiny little apartment. It seems risky to bring him to your home before you even really get to know him, he could be a murderer for all you know. Or am I just a booty call? You find yourself wondering. It's such an odd excuse to use to invite yourself over, but part of you pushes the worry away. You trust this odd stranger. So, you decide to take a leap of faith, putting all your trust into Choso.

You: Sure, I get out at 5. I’ll send you my address!

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

Time seems to move even slower now that you have plans to look forward to. A small rush of customers come in for some tea lattes, giving something for you and Sara to pass the time with. You wave to the customers as they leave with their to go cups, thanking them for their business. You check the time, 45 minutes left.

“Hey, I’m going to take a 15-minute break before we start hardcore cleaning.” You call to Sara as you hang the brown apron up on the wall, exchanging it for the bag dangling from the hook. She nods in understanding. You don’t smoke but your boss still wants everyone to take advantage of using their break times. Even if your break is just you sitting down to rest your feet and draw or have a quick snack. You walk over to the small seat in the corner, pulling out your sketchbook. You tap your pencil against your pursed lips, deep in thought.

“Welcome in” Sara’s customer service voice gets your attention. You glance up to see who walks through the front door, assessing if she needs help. Your eyes land on him. His puffy pigtails bouncing as he enters the cafe. He stands there, looking around, completely ignoring Sara as she tries to assist him.

“Choso?” you call surprised from the corner. What is he doing here? We planned to meet at my place, after I was done working. He turns as you call his name, spotting where you sit in the corner. He calls your name softly and waves, making his way toward the table and sitting in the seat across from you. You notice the ultra comfy clothes he wears, baggy black jeans and a gray sweatshirt.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, a soft smirk gracing your face at this surprise.

“I know I know, you're still working. I just got bored…and my brother’s friends arrived so it was time I left to give them space.” he leans back in his chair, taking in the sights of the café. His dark rimmed eyes roaming over every detail. The rustic interior, the twinkling fairy lights, your art framed on the walls. He looks back at you. “I don’t mind waiting,” he assures you. You set your sketchbook on the table and stand up.

“Well since you came all this way, let me make you a drink. My treat, a way of paying you back for my cab the other day. What would you like?” you offer.

“You really don’t need to worry about paying me back…but I'll never say no to a treat. Surprise me” he smirks.

You stand and walk back to the counter, hearing Choso’s thick shoes clomp behind you. You grab your apron and slip it on, tying it tight around your waist. Choso leans forward on the counter, resting his chin in his hand as he watches intently.

You grab a ceramic mug and begin to brew the espresso. While you wait, you steam some milk in a small metal pitcher. Your mind wanders, thinking of what kind of latte art you should surprise him with. An idea strikes you, it's going to be perfect.

Picking the mug of espresso up, you tilt it slightly to the side. The warm roasted aroma filling your nostrils. You start to swirl the steamed milk into the cup. Then lift the pitcher up to create more detailed swirls and blobs on the top. You are so engrossed in making this coffee masterpiece you don't notice the way Choso eyes your every move, curious as to what you're about to present to him. Then you pick up a toothpick, adjusting the way the foam sits on top to create some finishing details. You set the mug down and admire your work, sneaking a picture for the cafe’s instagram page before you hand it off to Choso.

You smile and set the mug down in front of him. Being made of coffee and steamed milk, it isn't the most detailed design but you can easily tell what it is. A round head with two swirly pigtails, the coffee showing underneath to create a distinct nose tattoo. Choso looks down at his coffee portrait, you see a hint of a blush on his cheeks.

“Is this…me?” he asks in disbelief, not looking up from the mug.

“Yup” you beam at him, extremely proud of this creation. He continues to inspect it, like glancing away will cause it to vanish.

“You're an amazing artist.” he finally looks up from the mug. You can't stop your cheeks warming at his praises, tucking a hair behind your ear shyly. “I don't even want to drink it, it would ruin the art” he looks back down at the cup.

“Thanks, but please enjoy it before it gets cold. I took a picture anyway.” You smile, watching as he picks the latte up for the first sip. His eyes widen as the taste crashes onto his tongue.

“Wow…that's a damn good coffee” He says softly, his tongue poking out to swipe over his soft lips. He glances over at a pile of prints you've made that sit in front of the cash register. His fingers start to mindlessly flip through them, admiring each one while sipping his drink. He stops when he sees a familiar scene. The rabbit in the woods. He pulls it out of the stack.

“You finished it.” he remarked. The color of the background is vibrant and green, the shadows of the trees stretching tall and ominous. But the center, that's the focal point. A small white rabbit, so soft you could feel it through the picture, its pink nose touching the lavender petal of the flower. He continues to look at it, warmth glowing in his dark eyes. You say nothing, just silently watch him admire your art. It's weird, how this comfortable silence sets over the two of you like you have known each other for decades.

“Ok enough yapping, let's clean up so I can go home” Sara’s no-nonsense tone interrupts the silence. You nod, ready to finish and head home with Choso.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

5 pm on the dot, You and Sara make for the doors of the coffee shop. Choso stands outside, his backpack over his shoulder, waiting for the two of you to finish the closing tasks.

“Oh wait!” Sara suddenly says before you flick off the light switch. She runs behind the counter, grabbing an envelope underneath. Thrusting it into your hands when she returns to your side.

“This is your art sales for today,” she explains. You cock your head, confused. You didn't realize anyone bought prints today. Sara points to Choso standing outside. “Your friend there bought the newest one, the little bunny, while you were in the back cleaning. He couldn't stop looking at it” She giggles.

“Oh! I had no idea. Thanks Sara” you smile, peeking inside the envelope. There was a lot of cash in here. “How much did you charge him?” You hiss, appalled. Stuffing the envelope in your bag.

“It wasn't me! He insisted!” Sara holds her hands up. “Look, I told him the price you had listed and he said, ‘that's way too cheap’ and paid double.” You can't help but giggle as you hear her deep imitation voice of Choso. You know you price your prints low, that's just how it works as a starting artist. Though you'll have to find a way to thank him for his generosity later.

You finish locking up the shop, double and triple checking everything is done properly, then say your goodbyes to Sara for the night as she turns in the opposite direction. You walk back up to Choso.

“Hope we didn’t make you wait too long.” you smile.

“Not at all,” he responds, his face showing no emotion at all.

“My apartment isn't too far from here either. Makes coming to work easy.” you start to walk down the street, beckoning him to follow. “You said you live around here too?” you ask curiously.

“About 10 minutes that way” he points behind us, the same direction Sara is walking. He’s been so close this whole time and you had no idea. It's crazy that you have never run into each other before.

You pass the time on this walk while talking about your day, you were honestly so nervous to be alone with him, you couldn't stop. One of your anxious habits, but he never made you uncomfortable, never judged. Just would listen, nod and hum in agreement as you talked. He was a great listener, always a man of few words himself. You wonder if he's just as nervous to be here with you as you are, but his facial expressions give nothing away. 7 minutes later you see your apartment building on the horizon. You reach in your bag and fish for your keys inside.

“What about you Choso? What do you do for work?” you ask as you continue searching for your keys, coming up to the steps of the brick complex.

“Hmmm…I would rather not talk about my job” he grumbles slightly, dodging the question completely. You are still curious but decide to press more another day. Maybe he had a really rough day today and doesn't want to think about it. You decided to keep tonight light-hearted and fun, no serious questions. Not yet.

You lead him through the main doors and up the stairs to the third floor. Your hand finally finds the cool metal of the key buried inside your bag. Unlocking and pushing the door open, unveiling a very messy apartment. There haven't been any visitors over in a while.

“Close your eyes!” you blurt out. A rumble of a laugh escapes his throat, but he does as you tell him. Closing his eyes as he waits in the doorway. You quickly rush around, throwing away take-out containers and picking up the pile of clothes you left in the bathroom. You leave the canvas you were painting on the dining room table, still needing to dry, but rinse out the dirty paint water cups you had lying around. One last look around and you decide this place looks…acceptable.

“Ok, you can open your eyes and enter” you call to him. He walks into your space, closing the door gently behind him. “I know it’s not a lot…but it's cozy.” You admit to him as his eyes wander over the interior. It's a small one-bedroom apartment with one bathroom and a combined kitchen and living room area. It's always been enough for you, a place to call your own.

“It’s nice” he gives a small smile as he walks over to your couch, plopping down like he's been here before. You quickly excuse yourself to the bedroom to change. Slipping on a comfortable pair of pink sweatpants and a loose worn-out band tee. You sit down next to him, being careful to keep a respectable space.

“Are you hungry?” you ask, pulling out your phone. He looks over and nods slowly. “Pizza?” you almost see a glimmer in his eyes at the word. You chuckle to yourself and open up the website for the local pizza place down the road. He scoots closer to look over your shoulder at your phone. His breath warm against your ear.

“Hey, that's my favorite place too!” he exclaims in excitement, the most emotion he's allowed himself to show all day. “My little brother and I order from there once a week. Get a supreme pizza, no mushroom extra onions” He's close to drooling as he speaks about his favorite order. The sight of this man, normally so stoic, getting so passionate about his pizza is honestly so cute. He notices you staring at him, wearing a smile. He takes a moment to compose himself again, clearing his throat and looking away. “I mean...only if you like that sort of thing”

You chuckle lightly. Then tap the options on the screen and place the order. 30 minutes.

“Hey! You should have let me pay” he objects.

“Nope! You way overpaid for the print you bought at the cafe.” you scold him. The tips of his ears turn bright red and he looks away. You caught him. He had no idea that Sara told you it was him who bought that cute bunny picture.

“Well…maybe you should charge your worth. Then I won't have to overpay” He grumbles under his breath. He acts like such a tough guy on the outside, but you see his soft interior shine through with each passing second.

You kill more time by chatting with Choso. Talking to him is so easy, it comes naturally. You feel as if you have known him your entire life. His dark eyes remained locked on yours the entire time. He asks lots of questions about your life and your passions. You show him your art account on Twitter and hand your phone to him, watching as he scrolls through. Various drawings of your favorite anime characters, replicated in your art style. A knock on your door startles the both of you. Pizza is here.

You stand from the couch and walk toward the door, glancing back to see Choso still engrossed in scrolling through the art on your phone. Opening the door, you see the delivery man on the other side. He looks at the receipt, repeating your name then looks up. Eyes roaming over your body uncomfortably. You nod at the sound of your name, reaching out for the pizza. He turns away, keeping it out of your reach.

“You're a pretty one,” he smirks, peering past you. From where he stands, he's unable to see inside your apartment and assumes you're all alone. “There is no way a girl like you can eat all this pizza by yourself. Need some company, dollface?” he licks his lips, looking at you like prey.

“No…I’m Fine-” he interrupts you by reaching out and grabbing your wrist with one hand, his other balancing the pizza box.

“Nonsense…” he tightens his grip, an evil grimace curling on his lips. You try to yank your hand away but he has you captured too tightly. Blood pumping through you, roaring in your ears, you freeze. A deer caught in the headlights. Through your panic, you don’t notice the quiet footsteps of your muscular friend coming behind you. Not until you hear his hand grip the front door, the wood groaning under his strength. You look up, Choso stands behind you glaring down at the delivery man threateningly. The man looks back, releasing your hand quickly. Fear crossed his face as Choso continued to glare.

“Pizza” Choso commands, his deep voice echoing in the hallway. The man hesitates for a moment before thrusting it into your hands. The air between the two men grows thick, tense. So you retreat back inside, wanting to stay far away from what might unfold next. Setting the pizza on your counter you peek back over by the door. Seeing Choso with his arms folded, talking sternly. The man then nods and bows apologetically before sprinting toward the exit of the complex. Choso closes the door, locking it, then walks back to where you stand in the kitchen.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly, he holds out his hand, palms up, in front of the wrist the man grabbed. He looks up at you, concern swimming in the dark orbs of his eyes. You hesitate before placing your wrist into his hand.

“I’m fine. Thank you” you whisper, trying to sound brave. It’s obvious how scared and rattled you really were. You don’t trust most men, they are all creeps with bad intentions. All except for the one standing in front of you, who holds your wrist so gingerly. His rough thumb lightly gliding over where the man gripped you, soothing any remaining pain. You don’t pull away, allowing his touch to calm your heart rate. All your worries melting away.

“Pizza will get cold” you whisper, staring at his fingers. Part of you doesn’t want to eat anymore, the warm meal tainted with the memory of this encounter. Your stomach growls loudly. The other part of you clearly craves this. Choso releases his hand from you, his face turning to his normal unbothered look. Your wrist now feels slightly cold, missing his warm touch.

You each fill your plates with a few slices of pizza. Then make your way to the couch in the living room. He reaches into the backpack, pulling out a DVD case.

“Movie time?” he asks, holding up the DVD. You read the title.

“Human Earthworm 4?” You ask, tilting your head to the side. “Never heard of it.” He hands it to you, which you pop into your PS4 and plop back down next to Choso.

“Yeah…my brother has been asking me to watch this for years now.” he laughs warmly. “He told me to watch it tonight, I guess it doesn't matter if we haven't seen parts 1 through 3”

You both settle next to each other on the couch, you look down at your pizza. Bell peppers. You hate them. Picking them each off one by one, you place them on top of Choso’s pizza. He eyes you, skeptical.

“You don’t like peppers? We didn’t have to order this pizza…we could have gotten something you liked instead.”

“You just seemed so excited about this.” you giggle. “More peppers for you I guess” you shrug. He simply rolls his eyes at you but doesn't complain. The room is filled with the sounds of chewing and the strange movie on the TV. You find yourself instinctually shifting closer and closer to Choso, until your shoulders touch.

Twenty minutes into this movie, this god-awful movie. You are confused by the plot and the worms really gross you out. You sneak a glance at Choso, wanting to glimpse his reaction to the film. As you turn your head, he stands up without a word, walking over to the TV and turning it off. His eyes meet yours, a blank expression you can't read. You burst out laughing, which must have been infectious because his laughter followed suit.

“I’m going to kill Yuji” he wipes a tear from his eye. You can’t control your laughter, buckling over on the couch. That movie was seriously so bad.

“Next time, I’ll pick the movie.” You giggle after composing yourself again.

You shift into playing a board game for the rest of the night. You learned that Choso has a fondness for games just as you do. The game Life being a favorite for both. You play games, chat and listen to music together. You see more and more of that soft side of Choso, seeing him open up slightly. Seeing his playful humor shine through his usual quiet demeanor. It’s addicting to watch his personality unfold before you.

As the night winds down, the two of you settle into the couch. A documentary on dinosaurs playing quietly on the TV. Choso fights his tired eyes to stay open, he planned on going back home tonight once his brother’s friends left. You pull a blanket over the two of you, huddling up next to him. That seemed to be the last straw, accepting his fate, his eyes fluttered shut. No longer able to fight sleep. You take a moment to watch him. His beautiful peaceful face. His head flops down onto your shoulder, his pigtails tickling the skin of your neck. Butterflies take flight inside your stomach.

“Choso?” you whisper softly to him.

“Mmm…” he murmurs, adjusting his head to get even more comfortable against the dip between your shoulder and neck. You decide to let him sleep against you for a bit, he always looks so tired he must need a good night’s rest. You lean your head onto his, loving the warmth radiating between your bodies.

“What were you even doing in Shibuya that night…” you whisper, wondering out loud. That moment, a moment led by fear and worry became a turning point in your life. That moment led to now, to a sweet sleepy Choso snoozing away on your shoulder. You don’t expect him to respond, but he continues to surprise you.

“Saving you” he breathes quietly in response, you're not even sure if he's awake. If he's talking in his sleep or if he knows what he's saying. Either way, you smile. You had your suspicions that he's the reason you were alive. To you, he's a hero.

dividers by @anitalenia

A/N: thanks for reading! :) I'm trying to work on uploading everything I have posted on my Ao3 so expect chapter 4 later this week too!

Also! If anyone wants to be added to a taglist for this fic let me know!

[fumifooms]

"Marchil? I guess I can see it on Chilchuck’s end, but what about Marcille’s? What makes you think she could develop feelings for him?" I’m glad you asked!

The first thing to note is that she does think highly of him

In the page on the right, literally defending his virtues and literally comparing him to Dalclan. And oh…

She does love a brooding mysterious guy who closes himself to love. But surely, Chilchuck isn’t her type at all, right? He’s not princely or knightly at all. In apperances certainly not, both looks wise and demeanor wise, but then that’s why she seeks to know him on a deeper level, to not only look shallowly.

And hmm. Chilchuck really is quite selfless isn’t he? Always looking out for others, and saving specifically her often, always making sure himself and, staying in or even running towards danger for her sometimes. Modesty is often considered heroic…

And can we talk about that drowning one… You can definitely frame the special attention as him knowing she tends to hesitate or be clumsy, and then his insistance on pulling her out of danger that she’s the healer aka the most important to keep alive, but. From the one who says that he just keeps his ass out of fights and won’t help this is a lot of risk to take, and he does die trying to pull her to safety in the dungeon rabbits chapter. And the drowning bit??? That’s when the dungeon collapses. The only reason they DON’T die of drowning here is that the water then gives way to outside. There was NO hope of pulling her to safety here and resurrections would likely not work either, he truly preferred to die with her than try to survive himself.

Sit your ass back DOWN you are in no state, self-sacrifical hero much damn

And Marcille definitely noticed this imo, after all she loves learning all she can about him, remembering things like how he hates waiting on people too. She pays attention to him and what he does and what he says. This to say that it’s notable, whatever reason for it you may think (though we know by this point at least she was already aware he was an adult though it wasn’t internalized), out of everyone it’s Chilchuck’s bed that she wants to sleep in during the Golden Kingdom stay. He’s safe and comforting to her: dependable, the defining trait in her view of him as is shown by the relationship chart in the Adventurer’s Bible.

^ Lending handkerchiefs is a romance trope btw and handkerchiefs have irl history of being used for courting. Especially in old English literature and plays like Shakespeare’s Othello, and personally I do see a lot of Shakespeare in Dalclan (nobility political drama with some romance). There’s how his cowl is a dearly beloved souvenir from his family too, there’s a lot of aesthetic tropes you can apply to him.

All this to say you can 100% romanticize Chilchuck into a princely noble guy if you try and that’s exactly what Marcille does with the wife roleplay. She doesn’t need much in the first place, she latches onto crumbs and makes aesthetic narratives out of details, give her an inch she’ll take a mile.

But what’s interesting about the shift throughout the arc of her and his relationship is that she starts out idealizing him into a little angel of a kid (shapeshifter), and she ends it idealizing him as a virtuous husband and family man instead.

And what’s doubly interesting is that in the former, she’s actively warping who he is personality and demeanor wise to fit the aesthetic, he doesn’t have that bitter pride of not asking for help and the edges have been smoothened. But what she does during the wife roleplay is something else, she acknowledges the flaws and just… Accepts them, rolls with them. She’s aware of his flaws and implements them into the narrative, but the reason why his wife left doesn’t capitalize on them even, rather Chil is chilblivious and his wife loves him very much still, she’s just testing him after having had a night of feeling out of place at his side.

And this is what separates the idealization vs romanticization, she’s not twisting him into someone else she’s just uplifting what he is and focusing on the good sides.

Marcille: "he has a shitty personality sometimes but if he was my husband I’d still cherish him" "If I were your wife I’d be overjoyed to go out with you and would get myself prettied up while you complain about me taking a long time, your friends would tell me that I’m nice and that’d make me happy, but I’d also be sad because you wouldn’t tell me that you love me enough"

He’s angry and his wife left him, he’s *flawed*, but he’s still worth hyping up, still worth having his own romance story, still has a shot of winning back his beloved. She sees him for what he is, human and real and not a carefully scripted character that fits an aesthetic, and she thinks it’s still worthy of love and admiration and fighting for

And what’s funny too is that you might expect her to cool down on him once she learns more about him but actually she only gets increasingly into his business. You tell her your age and next thing you know you promise to introduce her to your family. Give her an inch she takes a mile. And too the thing is, Senshi is equally mysterious but she doesn’t pester him like at all, asks him ONCE about his succubus and he doesn’t even answer and that’s like… It. With Chilchuck it starts off innocently enough with her wanting to know his age, hometown, the stuff she mentions having asked pre-canon. But it just keeps and keeps going and escalating. Think she’ll be satisfied now knowing you have a wife and kids, maybe she’s disillusioned now? Wrong! She wants to know their names and ages and occupations and hey how did you propose to your wife? Do you think she’ll stop after meeting them? What’s next? What will she want to know next????

She’s… Like it’s not a reach that Marcille is all over him. Like it doesn’t mean it’s romantic but she just is. She is not normal about him idk. Can you not ask him about what tongue technique he used when first kissing his wife, give the man breathing room

Marcille could literally go "if I was Chilchuck’s wife" having deeply pondered and thought out the hypothetical and people would still ask where anyone sees any romantic potential between them. Oh wait

There’s a platonic explanation for everything (almost?) in Dungeon Meshi don’t say I’m saying otherwise, but it’s definitely not like there’s nothing here to read into lol

Going off a bit more under read bc it’s my fave topic

Marcille has a whole theme with the charming prince trope with her idealization and storybook motif and Chil is kinda the "Well someone perfect like that isn’t very realistic and romance is usually more complex and that’s ok and good and flawed people can still be ✨virtuous✨" catalyst

Do you see do you see she starts canon thinking the most romantic thing is a prince charming but her arc in the end has her romanticizing an average, flawed, real and realistic family man, who’s on the poorer side and is on the verge of divorce. And that’s what he needed, too, seeing the positive of himself and the situation instead of focusing on the negative is explicitly what inspires him to hope that he might be able to reconcile with his wife, gives him the courage and self-esteem to shoot his shot.

He IS a prince figure instead that now it’s not about idealizing the grand and overt it’s about romanticizing the small things in real life!! About finding joy and beauty in things that seem normal or mundane and uplifting them to make the world feel kinder!!!!

He’s the devoted virtuous man that she wantsss not the storybook prince that’s unrealistic and could crumble like a script at any time. He’s the perfect example of a flawed realistic but virtuous & devoted & loving man. Far from a prince charming, but not fully detached from it either. Something worth fighting for despite the flawed cracks. Like literally, flawed romance being worth fighting for is literally the finale of Chilchuck and Marcille’s arc on the matter, where their separate arcs and issues intersect at the most crucial moment.

Marcille is important to Chil’s arc not only because of her optimism, but also because of her interest and knowledge in romance & matters of the heart, and that’s what he needs to both open his heart up to hope and to try to reconcile with his wife, like idk sounds gay

Their arc together is literally learning to 1) see each other for how they are and not undermining their qualities capacities etc etc while still not leaving flaws unchecked either and 2) opening up to people. Marcille LITERALLY makes Chil open his heart up to hope like idk man. What do you want from me. He’s literally the guy helping her through deconstructing novels and fantasy and rose tinted glasses and like. Deconstructing the prince charming figure into something more real but still romantically beautiful like KUI KUI STOOOOP STOP I’M ALREADY HOOKED I’M ALREADY-

 Ok fine that’s me reading into the tropes too much forgive me for being storybook brained but like. Speaking his heart out to a lone woman on a balcony, Romeo and Juliette shit, asking if she, too, doesn’t want to meet his family, madly blushing. And like she’s learned with Chilchuck it’s all in the little things, all the implications he cannot speak aloud. She does reciprocate, does blush madly back, and the first thing she does is shower him in flowers and jewelry and what in her heart is coded as romantic gifts

A lady, stashed away in a high tower by her lonesome, waiting for someone to call out to her from below… Romeo courting type shit with an offer, a heartfelt spiel, implicit confession from underneath her balcony. Offering him flowers because he succeeded in calling out to her heart…….. And they have to climb to her too…. Crazy

Doesn’t it sound like a proposal. One that’s both so storybook-like and not, contrastedly real and grounded, all about the implications rather than in your face grand gestures, "Don’t you want to meet my family?". They literally have an arc about the topic of romance and this is the climax/pinnacle of it like god?? This is @ the woman who said "Chilchuck is a shy/bashful man so I know he wouldn’t tell me he loves me, but…" btw

To quote a friend, truly the shiny secret unlockable dating sim capture target : THE DUNGEON LORD BIT WAS SO FUNNY BECAUSE HE KNEW SHE'D TAKE IT HOOK LINE AND SINKER HES THE ONE WHO GOT HER TO TURN AROUND COMPLETELY SHES LIKE. WIDE EYED FLAG RAISED???? FLAG RAISED WITH CHILCHUCK 👀👀👀‼️👀👀‼️👀

And the way that this is the culmination of their arc together… Like people are not ready for the ‘Chil calling out to dunlord Marcille on the balcony has Romeo and Juliette romance novels imagery’ take. Or the ‘their arc is about growing to see beauty even in the non-idealized, in the flawed and in the real’ take which makes it so so perfect if she were to lower her ideal from a charming elven prince to a virtuous halfling man (which she does end up romanticizing)

So there, you got to witness in real time what happens when I think about marchil for longer than 2 minutes, there are so many layers it’s a deranged rabbithole. I saw the necronomicon of subtext and it’s driving me to madness with forbidden knowledge that no one else sees

……. Like what if I told you she implicitly picked Chilchuck over a "unrealistic prince charming who’s actually disingenuous" much earlier in the story already. If she was given the choice to think through going with a guy that seems perfect and chivalrous like her succubus she’d pick Chilchuck over the other actually. If I sound insane rn tune in for my full analysis on them coming this month hopefully thank youu. Interwoven arcs of fantasy vs reality and idealization vs pessimism I love youuu

So now you know the general thesis of my planned analysis about the importance of the prince charming figure in Marcille and Chilchuck’s arc, where she romanticizes things to a sometimes worrying degree or idealize people into something easy and digestible and poetic (like Chil being a kid, and then him being a virtuous ✨✨✨husband), and how she needs to value aesthetics less and actual acts and facts more, be more grounded (like seeing people for what they are flaws and all, and accepting that people need money and not pulling through on principles of honor or unity shouldn’t get Namari shamed) and a part of that is accepting that Chilchuck is BOTH flawed and virtuous, a loving husband that still has shitty moods and fumbled his marriage so bad etc etc. So it’s like, her image of perfect prince charming that will whisk you away on an ethereal romance -> realistic flawed middle aged dad with personality issues and a failing marriage but he still is worthy of love and having his cute grand romance story and his happy ending. Ik I keep repeating the same point through this but I need it to be burned into everyone’s brains it has its grip on me I can’t do this. They are so special……