#also uh we barely know anything about caleb

[pandoratheprocrasticreator]

I actually hope hunter doesnt find out about calebs heel turn towards befriending witches. Or at least, he doesnt find out about that until he accepts that its okay if hes a clone of a witch hunter.

I want hunters realization that hes a Good Person, Actually to come from understanding that sharing genes with someone doesnt mean you inherit their bad qualities. And that he's free to choose whether or not to be like his predecessors. I dont want it to come from him learning that caleb is Good, Actually, and have that mean hes automatically destined to be good like caleb

[densi-mber]

A Gift of Joy

A/N: Yes, I’m being very self-indulgent, as usual, for my birthday.

***

“I scheduled the appointment to bring my SUV in for maintenance next week,” Kensi told Deeks. He glanced up from switching out a mini lightbulb from a strand of lights on the Christmas tree.

“Sweet.”

“Also, my water just broke.”

Deeks stilled, one eyebrow arching up as he processed this piece of information. “Are you having any contractions yet?”

“Yeah, but only one so far and not very strong,” Kensi answered.

“Ok, well, Sheila said we probably wouldn’t need to head to the hospital until you get to five minutes between contractions, right?” Deeks checked, clearly already three steps ahead in his head.

“Yeah. Unless I have any severe pain, get dizzy, or feel like I need to push.” She knew she wasn’t telling Deeks anything new, since he’d taken copious notes during all of their pregnancy classes provided by their midwife, Sheila. It was more to confirm that she wasn’t experiencing any unusual symptoms.

“All right. I’ll, uh, call Sheila so she’s ready when it’s time, and double check we have everything packed.”

Kensi watched him, unbelievably proud of his ability to stay calm. Aside from the first few days after finding out she was pregnant, when they’d both been in a state of shock and overwhelmed, Deeks had attacked the preparation with the same energy and focus he would a case.

“Thanks.” Kensi winced faintly as another contraction rippled through her abdomen and back. Deeks was in front of her, gently clasping her hand in a second.

“You ok, baby?”

“Yeah, that one was just a little stronger,” she explained. “It wasn’t that bad though and about 10 minutes from the last one.”

“Let me know if that changes,” Deeks said. “Do you wanna call Rosa?”

“Yeah, I will as soon as I grab something to eat.” He started to move away, but Kensi stop him with a brief tug of his hand. “Hey, thanks for taking such good care of us.”

“Alway. I love you,” Deeks murmured, kissing her softly. He sank to one knee and pressed his lips to her stomach, his touch so loving and gentle, Kensi felt her throat tighten. Standing up again, Deeks squeezed her hand one more time before rushing off to get things ready.

***

Caleb and Sophia Deeks entered the world 6 minutes apart and just short of four hours after Kensi went into labor. It was a remarkably uncomplicated, if fast, delivery. After checking that Kensi and the babies were all healthy, Sheila had left the family alone to bond.

“This is insane,” Deeks murmured, peering down at Caleb curled up on his bare chest. His hand looked giant against Caleb’s tiny back. For the first time today, he looked, and sounded, a touch overwhelmed. Or maybe awed was a better word.

It gave Kensi so much joy to see him realizing one of his most fervent wishes.

“Hey, come here,” Kensi called softly, not wanting to wake Sophia, who was similarly cradled in her own arms. Both babies had initially cried upon making their grand entrances into the world, then fallen asleep shortly after.

Deeks stood up carefully, keeping Caleb anchored to his chest with one hand. When he reached the side of the hospital bed, Kensi patted the mattress beside her. Deeks slid onto the bed, slipping his free arm around Kensi and Sophia once he was situated.

“I always forget how tiny and completely helpless they are at first. It’s incredible and so, so terrifying,” he said, brushing his finger over Sophia’s round cheek. She sighed in her sleep, shakily stretching one arm to the side before settling again.

“It is, but you’re a natural,” Kensi assured him. “You’ve always been. I mean, just look at how calm he is.” She snuggled closer to him. “I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

Deeks scoffed. “Please. I just had to stand there while you pushed out these two.”

“You did so much more than that. You gave me the strength and courage I needed to get through labor.” Kensi smiled up at him. “Like you always do.”

“Either way, we made some cute kids,” he said with a smitten look. “I can’t wait for Rosa to meet them.”

“Yeah, just like their daddy.” Kensi tugged at one of his curls, and Deeks snorted.

“You’re ridiculous.” He gestured with his chin towards Sophia. “You wanna switch?”

They carefully made the swap, settling in once more. Kensi leaned her head against his, looking down on their two bundles of joy.

***

A/N: Yes, yes, yes, this time around I gave the babies my birthday. Title references my own middle name. And yes, this is incredibly cheesy.

[petitprincess1]

If Dr. Flug is 28 years old, and will be 29 years old from his birthday

How old was Miss Heed?

Information: Miss Heed is a very well-known superheroine, influencer, and designer who has her own merchandise that includes perfumes, action figures, and dolls. She was revealed by Alan Ituriel in Villainous Chat at Pixelatl 2020.

Later, she is revealed to be Dr. Flug Slys' former interest love and use to go to the same academy as him before having to leave him for Goldheart, to which led to her choice of becoming a superheroine just so she could get close to him.

Sorry for only just now getting to this. Considering that Heed and Flug both went to school at the same time, it's best to assume that she's around the same age as him. Which is quite a leap with how she acts. I really would have pegged her to be like around Demencia's age, but whatever. It's not impossible for people nearing 30 to act that way, I suppose.

Also, I guess the extra info bit was for those that don't know about Heed because I know about her.

I'm still not gonna shit on Heed because she's still the best and most developed thing in this whole series. Everything else is either regurgitated or highly predictable. Like the Podemos Bailar agent, Caleb or whatever his name was, being absolutely useless. Just like the other agents lol x3

Sad that Podemos Bailar went from this interesting facility that managed to hack into BHO's systems, just to now be a group of volunteers (not even all super-powered heroes) that are basically cannon fodder that don't do anything. Because, you know, heaven forbid those four idiots have a legit threat. No, I do not count Goldheart.

Goldheart has no reason to be viewed as a threat. He wants to get rid of all villains? Cool, heroes tend to want that. He's beaten Flug? Cool, who hasn't in this show by now? Flug is more-or-less a punching bag until the plot demands him not to be. How Flug is seen as a villain at all is beyond me.

Yeah, I know he's meant to be extremely intelligent, but we also know that Flug uses BH's juices (H3X or whatever it was called) for his inventions. So, how much of it is him or is it all Black Hat's cum? x3

I'm sorry to go into a rant, but I just get so upset and disappointed with Villainous. It turned from "successful, retired goblin of a villain has to deal with two chaotic, up-and-coming villain millennials as they sell barely functioning weapons" to "Oh, uh, Black Hat was the "man behind the slaughter" throughout many years and heroes are going to fight against cosmic entities now. You know those beings that you can die from insanity by just looking at them....yeah. ...Also, Flug, Dem, and 505 are there."

Like...god...I just....ugh. What's more disappointing is that I'm still hopeful.

[nochi-quinn]

campaign 3 episode 50: there's only seven of you (for now)

Let's see if I can do a liveblog after six weeks of not watching!

(it started to feel like a job)

I miss jester

IT IS BEGIN

I know we're probably getting Keyleth but god would I love a Dorian cameo

aw, I miss marisha's "girls" tank

liam with the thumbhole hoodie is very good tho

liam

"orgy 2.0"

if a skyship leaves the dock at 8pm going 120 feet per round

"ira get the FUCK up here"

enjoying the corruption arc of the changebringer entirely through fcg

anyone: ludinus liam: >:[

"bacchanalian" greek mythology exists in exandria, canon

"you would turn into a bird - " "and fly far, far far away" what a reference

man I got noise canceling headphones for christmas for the first time ever and I've barely taken them off since, imogen is a mood

this whole "crash the ship" plan is big "ram the blade ship" energy

stop saying final destination

oh THAT was a throwback

oh we've reached Marisha Chair Perch and we're not even in combat yet

relax she's just putting it out there

"no plan survives contact with bells hells" is not as catchy as "no plan survives contact with the mighty nein" but is equally as true

matt changing the light to move them along like turning the light off in a daycare to signal naptime

uh oh spaghettios

laura literally stopping mid-sentence to let them meme sdkfjsl

matt stop death flagging xandis

meanwhile ira is living his best life

"I'll look for a tree" oh the flashbacks

laudna puts on skin tone foundation but doesn't blend the neck

fearne: you shut the FUCK up

"don't do anything stupid" "oh this is ALL stupid"

I am not prepared

neither are they

if xandis dies I riot

sam

I'm not okay

ASHTON

where the fearne/ashton shippers at, come get your juice

you know liam's distracted, he didn't reach up instead of out

no plan survives etc etc

DISLIKE

"that's above your pay grade, son" holy shit imogen

oh shit

DON'T SPLIT THE PARTY kdjflks

tag urself I'm ashley

"welp, we gotta kill them" sam reads my persona 5 liveblogs

guards: purple sus

TRAVIS

sam

HIM BIG

all this cool stuff I can't afford makes me wish I had an in-person game

or any game, lbr

TREE OF DREAD

"titties?"

"good thing I got this ring of fire protection" slkdfjf

"now we're playing with portals"

IN-TENTS

"testicles" I heard that liam

"can I try to - fuck it" right in front of my salad?

their bane noises are starting to sound like furbies

ykw travis had a point can we have fjord's ring of fire protection

"I'm gonna use a toy" ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

YEAH

hey

hey matt

hey matt what the fuck

SHE??

"she looks like an asshole" marisha: fuck yeah she does

"is the dirt wizard here?"

"he's quite a loyal dog" something something dog of the military FMA joke

HE

liam exploded

the accent

travis also exploded

extremely funny to hear beau try to talk shit about anybody else's stealth plans

"cool if we kill your mom?" beauregard

"shut the fuck up, wolfy"

l i a m

"they're level nine you guys"

(level nein)

quick somebody ask caleb what time it is

all of the german is slowly leeching out of matt's accent

travis had the same thought as me sldjfsk

marisha's goblin crouch perch

chetney

liam finally got to be on the other side of that

nobody told you to wolf out, chet

laudna's crush on ira is funny when it's fucking around but when she starts genuinely arguing he wouldn't do some fuck shit in a heartbeat it's annoying

I THOUGHT SO

oh that timing gives me anxiety

[phoenixyfriend]

Ezra and Fulcrum’s Wacky Adventure

Ezra's attempt to save Ahsoka on Malachor by fucking around with space-time goes wonky, and the two of them end up in the first year of TCW... with Vader in pursuit.

"You're Ahsoka... from the future?"

"Sure am, Skyguy."

"And that's your padawan."

"A friend's padawan. His master died recently, and I'm keeping an eye on him until we figure something out."

"Right, right... and, uh, mister tall, Dark, and horrifying?"

"Oh, that's future you."

"..."

"Yeah, Palpatine's a Sith Lord and he's been grooming you for a decade. Shit’s fucked. Anyway, get ready to jump, Vader’s gaining on us."

I just have this mental image of hyper-competent "I am no Jedi" Fulcrum leading 20yo Anakin and angstiest ever Ezra on a merry ride called "avoid Vader before he kills us all."

Intermittently she tries to talk Vader down with "Padme's still alive!" and that sort of not-quite-reassurance, and Anakin is getting very concerned about... many things.

Smol Ahsoka is very "future me scares me." Like yeah Fulcrum is a badass but Fulcrum is also incredibly blase about like. Really horrifying things.

Fulcrum's had a long time to come to terms with "Vader is probably Anakin" and a week or two to come to terms with "Vader is DEFINITELY Anakin and also trying to kill me and this child (teenager) I'm currently in charge of." She's coping by making very morbid jokes and being scarily calm about things, and just overall Very Unperturbed about, like, an explosion going off two feet away from her.

She keeps dropping bombs like "Yeah, all the clones have mind-control chips in their heads with orders to kill us or themselves and I remember like a solid half of you trying to kill me in particular, it was a very formative experience for how I dealt with the rise of the Empire" with the most unassuming, bland smiles.

Everyone's horrified except Fulcrum herself and Ezra, who grew up in the Empire and has never known anything else, but ALSO he's consistently freaking out and having negative reactions to shinies and even some of the older clones because even painted phase one armor is setting off 'These are stormtroopers' PTSD.

So there's:

- that general "Vader fucks around and everyone, including Sidious and Tyranus, is trying to figure out the identity of this absolute motherfucker wrecking everyone's shit with no restraint or apparent care in target allegiance"

- "a friend from The Future shows up to tell you about the horrible, horrible fate everyone is going to suffer, now you have to fix it"

- "Future Me tried to kill The Little Sister?????"

Do you think your teenager is traumatized now, Anakin? Think again! In eighteen years, it's going to be so much worse, and it's going to be in large part your fault!

Fulcrum, smiling: Humor makes the trauma bearable.

Anakin: [concerned noises]

@atagotiak: I have this mental image of Anakin and Fulcrum making the very inadvisable decision to spar

Fulcrum thinks she’s able to handle it. She’s not.

She has the skills! But. Uh. Panic attacks are fun, especially when they take the form of "my brain flipped a switch and I could no longer process that this was a spar and not a fight to the death."

Ezra suggests that maybe she'd be better off sparring with General Kenobi instead of Skywalker. Ezra can spar with Mini-Soka and Anakin, he's fine with that. He knows Vader is Anakin but it's just a Fact, like "there are this many stars in the Chommel sector." It's certainly true but he has no emotional connection to this information.

Tia: It’s not great for Fulcrum mentally and also tbh it seems like there might be a risk of her injuring Anakin. Probably not too seriously just because the sabers aren’t gonna be full power but still, seems like something to avoid

Does she flinch around non-Rex 501st clones? Probably!

Fulcrum: Here's a list of clones we're likely to encounter that I'm not going to panic around.

Anakin: ...there’s only three names on this list.

Fulcrum: Yeah.

Tia: Trying to figure out what her opinion of Bail Organa must be. Which is complicated by how I haven’t seen Rebels.

I mean yeah there’s some degree of trust and respect and stuff there. But in the novel at least I didn’t really get any friendship vibe from them. To be fair I’m pretty sure they barely knew each other at the point.

“He’s trustworthy but a much sneakier motherfucker than anyone gives him credit for.”

"We aren't friends but I would lay down my life for him without hesitation"

"He's very soft compared to Jedi or clones but he's almost stupidly brave and apparently tried to help when he saw the Temple go up in flames, it's wild."

"But you're not friends?"

"Nah, future Bail was kind of my boss and I saw him once every two years if that. He has my ultimate respect, though. Ten outta ten, would become a black ops agent for again."

Tia: “Also his office is very fun to break into”

The looks that last one gets her.

Obi-Wan was nodding along because Yeah, he Gets It, Bail is incredibly impressive for a politician, he's a good man with a good heart and nerves of steel! Obi-Wan also finds him worthy of total loyalty! This is all--his office is What.

Fulcrum: Hey, you wanna know something terrible?

Anakin: No.

Fulcrum: Too bad, telling you anyway.

Fulcrum gets a lot of mileage out of being the future version of one of Anakin's current Five Most Important People (Obi-Wan, Padme, Ahsoka, Palpatine, Rex) since the twins haven't been born yet and Shmi's already dead.

Also, Tia pointed out that Caleb is like eleven at this point, and that’s very awkward for Ezra.

[writefightandflightclub]

I really enjoyed your Nathan fluff 🥺 we love this angry peach fuzz king 👑💖 would you ever write him being comforted after having a nightmare? 💕

First of all, LOL @ “angry peach fuzz king” 🤣🤣🤣

Second of all, here you go! 🧡 I will warn you - I think I forgot the fluff a little bit though. It became more hurt / comfort? More angst than expected? It ends nicely though and comfort is given to Nathan - but only after I’ve subjected him to rattling around in his own head and house for a bit.

Through the looking glass (Nathan Bateman x GN!reader)

Summary: Nathan has nightmares after The Incident. After so long alone, he doesn’t realise how badly he needs a little comfort - and maybe he doesn’t believe that he deserves it.

Author’s note: hopefully this isn’t too similar to All Better. I know they both take place post-stabbing, but I tried to give this a different focus. I know I could have made the nightmares based off of anything given the ask, but this timeline / focus seemed most sensible to explore the character.

Warnings: nightmares following traumatic incident (a stabbing); mentions of blood and injury - not graphic. Self-harm (punching the bag until injury); Body horror if you squint (some gruesome descriptions occurring in-dream, but fairly abstract); swearing; implied alcoholism recovery if you squint; mentions of therapy; Nathan mildly injured in fic; reader offering comfort.

Rating: MATURE for themes mentioned above.

GIF: by @santiagogarcia (this whole gifset is magic- check it out + reblog!)

Nathan wakes up breathless, plastered to the covers by a sheen of sweat - and not in a good way. On instinct, or out of habit by now, or maybe somewhere between the two, his palm slides over his body to the site of the wound.

He is so slick that he half-believes he is soaked with dank, deep blood again, until his fingers trace over nothing more than a half-concave, half-ridged scar. The lack of searing pain is the next point of evidence leading him towards an alternative conclusion. He’s not dying (again).

It’s just another gruesome nightmare.

Although… there is nothing “just” about it.

The nightmares are pretty brutal. Brutal enough for him to wake with ragged breaths and a hammering heart, his sheets dampened and coiled up around him. Enough that it takes effort to sift through the layers of terror and distinguish reality.

With what can only be described as a whimper, Nathan swings his legs over the edge of the bed, bringing himself into a seated position and bracing his head in his hands until his racing heart levels.

In his mind, he’s telling himself to be logical about this. That Ava hasn’t truly arrived to finish the job she started; but logic is not the safe haven it used to be.

She could come back.

She’s still out there, somewhere, and Nathan distinctly got the impression, last time, that she was vehemently not a fan of him.

His hand trembling, Nathan reaches for the glass of water by his bedside, glugging it down so eagerly it spills into his bushy beard.

Since the… accident? Malfunction? Functioning just fine, actually? Failed experiment? Greatest achievement known to man? Attempted murder? (Truth be told, Nathan isn’t quite sure what to call it, so he simply calls it The Incident.)

Since The Incident, Ava has begun to regularly visit him in his sleep.

The visitations are not waning with time. In fact, they are happening more often, not less. They are happening more since you moved into the house.

It’s a bad fucking time to have quit drinking.

You’d been sent by the board. Something about Nathan taking “tortured genius” a slice too literally. Something about him being in isolation too long and needing another human around in the compound.

Well, that’s not technically true, is it? The shit all started when he opted to get social, after all.

Fucking Caleb.

Before that, he was doing just fine.

Nathan doesn’t like it at all - having you here. Being watched. Observed. Having someone monitoring his actions. Waiting for him to either fuck up or prove himself.

Ironic really, considering where he kept Ava. The experiments he ran on her.

She’d probably find it poetic, if she could truly understand such a concept.

At the thought of her, Nathan physically shudders, and reaches for an old vest to haphazardly mop the excess sweat from his skin. Then, he balls up a change of clothes and tracks nude to his wet room, feeling relief as the luke warm water sluices over his skin.

He watches himself in the mirror as he stands there naked. It’s not a vanity thing - at least not any longer. These days, he examines the way his form has changed since it happened. He lost some of his muscle and bulk during recovery, whilst unable to exercise, his arms slightly smaller and his abs softer. His stomach a little more rounded.

There’s also the puckered scar, of course - that permanent reminder of where he was skewered through the chest like a piece of kebab meat.

His gaze travels up over his body, until his eyes settle on his still haunted face. He doesn’t have his glasses on, and somewhere between the blurred vision, misted mirror, clouding steam and sluicing water, his reflected face distorts. It transforms - for the briefest of moments - into her.

Still amped with adrenalin from his harsh awakening, this briefest flash sends a surge of panic zipping through Nathan’s chest, his heartbeat racing so hard he can feel the pounding of blood in his ears.

Fuck, he curses, reaching his arms out to brace himself against the shower wall above him, his body trembling and his head dipping down between the cradle of his broad shoulders as his legs threaten to buckle.

He turns the water cold, until it is practically glacial and thundering on to the back of his neck, subduing this spiking heat.

She really did a fucking number on me, didn’t she?

It’s true though.

Ava is haunting him. When he sleeps - and at other times too.

Nathan didn’t know robots could do that. Didn’t know they could spawn ghosts.

Nathan doesn’t believe in ghosts, of course… but he does believe in trauma and its effect on the brain. He at least concedes that it is natural to continue to feel afraid; but this?

Being dogged by the spectre of her taps into Nathan’s deepest insecurities.

After all, there is nothing a genius fears more than doubting his own mind.

Nothing a God fears more than his own mortality.

And the man? Turns out, there is nothing he fears more now, than dying alone.

With a ragged breath, Nathan towels off and pulls on his grey sweatpants, tugging on his black zip-up hoody over his bare chest. And then, keen not to return to his damp, tangled sheets, he tracks towards the kitchen - mainly for want of any more favourable option.

Of course, he had returned to the compound after The Incident. Something about that many fibre optic cables being a bitch to lay down. Sunk cost fallacy and all that - too much already invested.

But it possibly wasn’t the best choice for his recovery.

Nathan has certainly gotten more used to walking down that hallway since he returned from the hospital, and yet he still finds himself holding his breath until he is free of it. Still finds his pace is just a little faster as he passes through. His gaze deliberately averted from that spot.

Once, you’d found him lying in it.

Lying in that exact spot, his body arranged like a crime scene photo, his eyes closed.

Hey, it’s hardly his least healthy coping mechanism, is it?

What in the fuck are you doing, Nathan?

Re-enacting my death, obviously.

Uh-Kay…. A beat. A devious smile. Shall I get some popcorn?

Absurd as it was, he had laughed. Laughed for the first time since it happened, and, with an extended hand, you had helped him up off the floor.

Still, now that he’s alone, he does not dwell in the corridor, colder and darker as it is without your light in it, and he tries not to think about your face or hers as he pads to the kitchen.

When he arrives though, he bypasses it entirely - heading out on to the decking, the crisp night air soothing his hot skin.

He wants to be outside.

There are too many ghosts in his house now.

He has tried to shake it. Tried to desensitise himself to Ava’s face. Spent longer than strictly necessary poring over footage of her.

He built her. Shouldn’t that take the fear out of things? Not to mention the fact Ava’s face was simply a composite of some manipulable nerd’s wank bank browsing history.

Fucking Caleb.

Still, once Nathan had looked her in the eyes and seen a rage that was all too human, things seemed a hell of a lot different.

Nathan crosses to the punchbag on the deck -lit by creeping dawn- on instinct, or out of habit, or maybe some combination of the two, his unease riling him enough to sock some punches at its midsection. Right at the equivalent site of his corporeal puncture.

He punches so hard that the skin on his knuckle splits, but Nathan doesn’t stop. He throws punch after punch until his hands are scathed and bloodied, and a trail of spit hanging from the corner of his mouth. Until he hugs the bag - the closest thing he has to a warm body to hold - and slides down it, coming limply to his knees, wiping his face on his sleeve.

He stays there, dead eyed and still for some time, the pain in his hands raw and singing. Unpleasant, but better. Better than what he was feeling, and worse all at once.

He considers his tired, cumbersome body, and contemplates remaking the world one more time. Uploading his mind into a machine or some shit, so that he doesn’t have to contend with the fragility and failings of his own existence.

He stays there, until some motion in the interior of the compound causes the light and shadows to dance differently over him, and he looks up to see your figure there, cast in a soft halo of yellowed light.

He tips his head up slightly, opening his mouth as though he might cry out to you for help, but no sound comes out - only a thin, dry croak.

So, instead, Nathan watches you for a moment, moving seamlessly around his kitchen as though it is your own. Maybe it is - more yours than his now.

Observing you like this, through the tall, cinematic windows, it is as though he peers in on another world entirely. Something less resembling a nightmare.

Lighter than that. Something more like a good dream, albeit a good dream that Nathan cannot be part of. One he can only ever watch, from the outside looking in, always fated as he is to be on the other side of the glass.

Truth be told, you haunt him too. You represent everything he could have and yet doesn’t deserve.

You appear in his nightmares and his dreams, in various terrifying and beautiful incarnations. Many variations of which his therapist would have a field day with, he’s sure - or, she would, if he’d ever fucking call her.

When you first arrived here, he was plagued by grotesque visions of you. Grotesque visions of the skin being peeled back from your body. Sometimes, circuitry beneath, and other times, muscle and bone. Sometimes, Ava’s face was buried beneath the chilling slip of your fleshy mask.

Sometimes it is a better dream. Sometimes you save him. Sometimes he saves you.

Sometimes it is a good dream. Ava isn’t there at all. But the good dreams never seem to last for long. 

Sometimes you kill him, and sometimes...

The glass door slides open.

“Reenacting your own death again, are you?” you tease, though not unkindly, interrupting the spiral of Nathan’s incessant thoughts.

A lump forming instantly in his throat, Nathan swallows thickly, and looks up at you helplessly with a thin, joyless smile. He snorts as though it’s funny, but it really isn’t. “Over and fucking over.” 

You nod once, and, without hesitation, you extend your hand towards him. Your gaze cuts through him as you search his face and he feels suddenly see-through, as if he’s about to be hit with some Shyamalan-esque twist. Was he the ghost all along? Did he die here after all?

If so, is this purgatory because Ava is here too, or heaven, because you are?

Christ. So fucking schmaltzy, Bateman.

After hesitating, Nathan takes your hand and you yank him to his feet, drawing him inside, through the looking glass.

The room seems warm on the other side. It feels… safe.

“What happened?” you ask, as you look down at your joined hands, your thumb painting a smear of red across his split knuckles. 

You mean now. What happened now, but Nathan’s mind harks back further than that. In his mind, everything is connected. Every thing threaded to another. This one smear of blood to that weeping flower of red.

The thought -the thoughts, all of them- halt him in place, his feet firmly planting on the ground. Nathan’s hand clenches tightly around yours as though it is a lifeline, as he is cast adrift on this familiar crimson tide, his face growing increasingly angular and stern.

“She...” He swallows, unable to complete that precise thought, his eyes dropping down to his feet.

You turn your body towards Nathan as he croaks, still not letting go.

Your eyes flitting around his face, attempting to search his eyes, you tentatively step closer, sliding your palms slowly over his tense shoulders, feeling them rise with an uneven, stuttered breath as you do so.

He’s so tired. He’s so very, very tired.

And it happens all at once on the exhale.

Suddenly, your arms are tugging him closer, and his face is contorting as a violent smattering of tears beads in his long lashes. You are encasing his body in your embrace and rubbing circles into his back as his buzzed head sags all too willingly toward the junction of your shoulder, your fingers splaying along the smooth flesh at the nape of his neck and pads dancing over the gentle prickle of his hair. You are shushing and soothing and reassuring and squeezing and smoothing and cradling and Nathan can feel it. Can feel his heart race in his chest and…

Finally.

Finally, his heart is not pounding because he is reliving his death.

It is pounding because he feels alive again.

When was the last time he cried, even? The last time someone really hugged him? He doesn’t remember the last time. The serendipitous combination of Nathan willing to be vulnerable, and another being willing to hold space for his pain is an all too rare thing.

There’s a reason -or several - he’s so emotionally constipated, after all.

Fuck. I’m taking a huge emotional shit right now.

Nathan remains in the welcome circumference of your arms longer than is strictly necessary - until the tear trails over the bridge of his nose begin to feel cloying. Until his breaths steady, and until his thoughts and ego creep back in. Until he notices the way his hands are clasped at your waist like claws, fingers sinking into your softness, and he thinks to release you.

Then, he leans away, a weight on his brow making his expression stern.

He waits for you to judge him, another swallow trailing thickly down his throat.

However, your eyes are kind and level, dancing with soft concern. Not with judgement or satisfaction or pity, or with anything he fears.

It is refreshing not to feel so afraid.

Finally.

“She…” Nathan begins again, finally finding courage. All at once his eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline. “She fucking stabbed me.”

You take his words in. You listen.

His “reveal” is simple. Plain and factual. A little indignant. Kinda salty. It’s not overly emotional, or articulate.

But it is enough.

Your eyes narrow, and you nod slowly, trying to understand the true meaning beneath his words.

You even reach up to cup Nathan’s face, his springy beard a cushion beneath your gentle palm as you hold him. “Yeah, genius,” you tease, with a tentative, lopsided smile, dropping your arm all too suddenly, perhaps as you catch yourself. “I got that from context.”

In response, Nathan chucks air from between his teeth, bringing his hand up to comb through his beard - perhaps to obscure his involuntary smile, or perhaps chasing your tender touch, the impression of it left warm on his cheek.

As he brings his hand up, your brows draw together, and you hook his bloodied paw delicately in yours, examining the wound, and leading him gingerly across to the couch as though his whole being might be hurting along with it.

It is.

You order him to stay put while you fetch the first aid kit, and then, in stages, Nathan watches you with fascination as you painstakingly clean and tend to his wounds, without ever being asked to.

He watches you carefully swipe the angry red away from his skin, and, to his overactive mind, it’s all connected. This red is one and the same with the flower of blooming red from The Incident.

Ava hurt him then, and she is hurting him now too.

And you…

“Going to tell the board about this?” Nathan asks, his voice weak and scuffed.

You search his eyes, holding your words back for a moment before answering. Then, you launch them on a big breath. “Fuck the board, Nathan. I told those assholes to stick it.”

Nathan blinks in confusion, shaking his head, his hand flourishing emphatically through the air. “Then… what the fuck are you still doing in my house?”

“Well. I’m… here for you,” you admit, sucking in air through your teeth, your voice shrinking. “If you want that.”

Well, that’s news to him.

Welcome news, perhaps?

You’re not watching him at all, are you? Not observing. Not asking him to evidence his humanity. Not waiting to see whether he fucks up or proves himself.

Instead, you’re seeing him. You’re seeing him and you’re not running.

Nathan had begun to think that maybe he was the nightmare. He’d begun to think he might always be haunted.

Always alone. That he might die that way; again.

And now, here you are.

Nathan thinks about that. He could so easily revert to his old ways, in this moment. Of pride and ego and stubborn independence.

But, perhaps those assholes from the board got a few things right - he’ll admit.

Maybe he had been in isolation too long. Maybe he didn’t need to take “tortured genius” quite so literally.

And so, Nathan almost protests. Almost rejects your presence and your comfort and pushes you away. But the truth is, he’s just so… tired. He’s had so many nightmares, and this time, he’d like to be on the other side of the glass. He’d like to step into that dream.

Nathan takes a deep breath, and releases on the exhale. Releases more than air.

He slowly, ever so slowly, shifts towards you on the couch, angling his body until he can safely dip his head towards your lap, his nose pointed in towards your abdomen and his knees curling around you.

“Th.. this okay?” he asks weakly.

You throw your splayed hands up into the air in surprise as the weight of Nathan settles there, but as he curls his arms around your middle and shuffles closer, you ease into it. You snake your fingers in intricate caresses over his head and neck and shoulders.

“Yeah, Nathan. This is okay,” you soothe gently, voice taut with emotion.

You comfort him.

And finally, Nathan does not need to peel your skin back to know what’s underneath.

He knows you’re not a robot, and that, as your kind touch finds him corporeal, that he is not a ghost.

He closes his eyes. And this time, when he next wakes, he knows that whether the dream is bad or better or good, it doesn’t matter. Because you will be there with him.

He wants you with him.

It’s not at all natural to him, to have you around. For the longest time, he didn’t like it. It didn’t come instinctually, and he has formed no familiar habits.

It isn’t easy - he doesn’t make it easy.

But he wants it to be.

And, in your arms, he can finally dream that it will all work out. What’s more; he can dream he deserves it, too.

[saphirered]

We've all seen fics where Caleb's SO dies and gets resurrected, and we seen Caleb accidentally hurting his SO, but what about Caleb accidentially killing his SO? Maybe Reader got burned by one of his fire attacks? The revival's successful, but damn, the angst.

Angst was requested and angst you shall receive. I hope this is to your liking. 😘

Trigger warning for death and grief themes.

Caleb sits on his knees, head bowed, whispering pleas in Zemnian to the gods, the world, to you, your cold hand encased between his own, occasionally pressing a kiss to it in the hopes you’d just wake up. But you’re not going to wake up. Not in the way you would in the morning when you’ve had a particularly late night and Caleb has to drag you out of bed, you being stubborn or pretending to still be asleep so you maybe could convince him to join you for a little more. Not in the way after you got knocked out in a fight, when you sit up and rub your eyes with a grunt like usual. Nothing within his capabilities will wake you up.

So here Caleb sits, begging for it to be a nightmare, some sick and twisted tricks played on his mind but there’s no denying this is real and this is the truth. You’re dead. You’re dead and it’s his fault. You ended up as collateral damage in his reckless attempt to kill the creature. You got stuck in the crossfire of that. He hadn’t realised you were doing so bad already, you even sent him a wink right before when he asked if you were okay. Why did you? Why didn’t you just tell him you weren’t? Why did you lie? Not lie, omitted the truth.

He knew exactly why you did it but that doesn’t make it any easier. You’d known the other’s weren’t doing great and barely holding on already. You were severely outmatched and couldn’t get away from the creature. Not without it chasing after you and running you in an even more perilous situation. Anything Caleb could do would affect anyone close to the creature. With Yasha having dragged Beau out of the fray you were the only one left to hold it at bay while the clerics worked on patching them up, Fjord and Veth offering them cover. You were the final line of defence. At the end of the day you had to keep the clerics alive.

Caleb took a calculated risk. A fireball to send the creature dropping into the ruined depths of Aeor. He had tried to keep you out of the range but wouldn’t have been able to strike the creature without putting you at risk. The spell worked and the creature got hit with full force. It was your attack right before the fireball struck that had send it stumbling, then with the blast, it lost its footing and stumbled off the edge.

But you too, dropped. and when you did, the creature’s tail lashed out, grabbing onto your body, dragging you with it. The creature had hit the platform below in its fall and the impact had made it release you, saving you from the full drop. Caleb had rushed to the edge, fear, pain, anger and guilt riddling his mind thinking he had truly lost you but there you were, bloodied, bruised, broken and burned. Because of him. All because of him. How could he have been so stupid and reckless. When he brought your body back to the others, he wasn’t quick enough. You’d already faded into the cold embrace of the Raven Queen and the clerics had expended their last resources.

So that leaves Caleb here, sitting at your side a day after you died, body preserved by the graces of Caduceus and the Wildmother. The clerics set up their ritual, working around him and you as the others help where they can. Beau and Veth had tried to console him, tell him it wasn’t his fault and if he hadn’t they might all have been dead right now. He appreciates his friends trying but it’s of no use. He already made up his mind and it’s not going to change anything. You died because of him. He murdered you and how is that any different than his actions in the past? How does that make him any different than the lives he’s taken in the clutches of his former mentor? Is there truly no redemption for him? You’d slap him for even thinking that way.

“Mr. Caleb? Why don’t you try talking to them? Persuasion has worked in the past to coax someone back.” Caduceus places a hand on the wizard’s shoulder but it barely registers. Yet the firbolg knows they did not fall upon deaf ears when the whispers stop for just a moment.

“I-. I do not think they’d want to hear from their murderer.” Speaking the words make them so much more painful. By the looks of it, Beau is ready to unleash in a degrading rant about how wrong Caleb is, breaking him apart only build him back up but she’s held at bay by Yasha. This is not the time and place. Caduceus doesn’t claim to know what Caleb’s going through, nor may he be the brightest mind here but he understands and can empathise.

“I know no matter what I say it won’t change your feelings so instead I will offer you this. You owe it to them to try. Not for what happened here but for the countless times they’ve been there for you, have had your back, and for the unconditional love they’ve given you. You owe them to try.” The wizard looks up over his shoulder to the firbolg, pain in his eyes, and the trails of silent tears that have long since run out. Caduceus is right. He owes it to you to save you and right now it is within his power to try. If he doesn’t, if he fails he’ll have condemned you to this fate. If he succeeds with this part, he’ll be able to look into your eyes again. You may never forgive him but he hopes to see you smile, hear your voice even if just once more.

Caleb nods looking back at you, bringing your limp fingers up to his lips and pressing them against your knuckles. He takes in a deep breath and tries to find the right words as Caduceus steps back. What are the right words? He cannot afford to fuck this up. He cannot afford to fail. He must succeed. He must.

“I know I might be the last person you want to hear right now. I want you to know I’m sorry-“ Caleb’s voice cracks as he feels the eyes of the others on him. He brushes some of your hair away from your forehead, running his thumb across your cheek.

“I don’t-uh. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know if I can do this. You’re always here for me during difficult times. You’d put your hand on my cheek and tell me ‘If anyone can do it it’s you, Caleb Widogast. You could move mountains if you set your will to it. Now stop being stubborn before I slap some sense in you.’ but now you’re not here to tell me that. You’ve shown me there’s a world beyond the walls I put up, that there is a light at the end of that tunnel, but now I cannot help but feel the world has grown dull, the walls are caving in, and that light is fading.”

“I have no right, no right to ask you this, but I need you to save my world one more time. So please, I beg of you. Do not leave me to brave this world without you.” The weight of his heart heavy on his conscious. Caleb feels a pressure causing a ringing in his ears. He’s so focussed on you, he cannot take his eyes off you. Not even when the others do their part in the ritual. He realises this pressure is coming from the effects of the spell to bring you back. He holds his breath, not daring to take in oxygen if only to savour the moment, hoping it will not pass, that for just a little longer he can hold on to the hope you’re coming back instead of having that hope crushed by a potential failure.

The pressure fades but nothing happens. Nothing changes. It’s silent as everyone waits for something, anything to happen. That moment alone feels like an eternity of suspense. Caleb finds himself whispering prayers and pleas in Zemnian again, your hand clasped between his own as he squeezes his eyes shut tightly to live through the memories of you, preserve them for the rest of his life just in case because he refuses to forget even a single one of them. He’s so consumed in his own mind he doesn’t notice warmth returning to your fingers. He doesn’t notice your chest beginning to rise and fall. Caleb’s pleas continue.

“Would you mind translating that? I think my brain got a bit scrambled.” Caleb freezes and his eyes open. Your eyes are closed but your brow is furrowed. Furrowed in discomfort. Not sleeping and not void of your usual expressions. Colour has returned to your limbs and face and no longer dulled. Caleb falls silent in disbelief, frozen in place and mind blank.

“Caleb?” You speak his name, peaking through one eye to see the wizard in his disheveled state. You sit up, grunting in pain. Apparently being brought back from the dead isn’t kind on your physical form, not even mentioning the exhaustion weighing on your mind. You could sleep for a couple of hours… or days… or weeks… You could do with a break really. All of you could. You nudge Caleb’s head up by his chin allowing your fingers to slide onto his cheek.

“Blink twice if you need me to get Beauregard to slap you back into reality.” You muster a smile as you brush your thumb over his cheekbone. Caleb doesn’t understand how you’re not recoiling in disgust or lashing back in anger. He doesn’t understand how you can look at him with love and kindness.

“I’m so sorry. Please-“ Caleb goes off in a spur of apologies, begging for your forgiveness.

“Caleb, I love you but you really need to stop. This is a problem for another day.”

“You died. I killed you. How can you even look at me like you do?”

“So what? I died. I’m here now. I got better. Now preferably I’d like to not die again, some things are beyond our control. And if you need some kind of reassurance; Veth killed Cad that one time and he doesn’t hate her.” Veth yells a ‘hey’ in defence while you earn a chuckle from the firbolg. You know Caleb isn’t just going to take your word for it and you’re also not going to make anyone buy you’re totally okay with just dying and being brought back to life because you’re not but you also know that you can’t blame Caleb for being a factor in what happened when you yourself were aware of the risks of the situation you were in. You made your own bet and it didn’t pay off but all your friends are still alive and well, Caleb’s still alive and well and that alone makes it worth the risk you took.

“You have no idea how much I love you.” Caleb breathes as he pulls you into his arms with a gentleness as if you’re made of porcelain, or will fade out of existence if he holds on too tightly.

“I think I have a pretty good estimate but we can compare notes later if you’d prefer.” You pull back enough to look at Caleb’s face, brush aside some of the red strands and softly place your lips on his. It’s not a heated kiss but one filled with emotion and a desperation no less. Neither of you thought you’d get to be in each other’s arms again but here you are despite everything. Maybe your work here isn’t done yet. You still got some asses to kick.

[sparring-spirals]

The conversation happens on one of their "slumber party nights" that Yasha, Beau, Jester, and Veth like holding, whenever Jester drops back onto land and enough of them are nearby. 

Veth isn't there this time- She and Caleb and Essek are on a trip to harvest some more ...volatile alchemical ingredients, with Yeza staying behind with Luc so he "doesn't fall into the volcano, or try to shoot it."

("I'm... fairly certain the volcano isn't sentient this time." 

"Essek, that's what you said about the kelp last time.")

Instead, in her honor, Jester, Yasha, and Beau are doing mud masks, which mostly translates into: various buckets of mud (sourced from the backyard) scattered around a room, a full tub of mud, everyone streaked with varying levels of dirt, and a general, good hearted mess. Jester isn't sure if the clumps of plants should be mixed in or not, but she figures it can't hurt. Yasha will tell them if anything will cause a rash.

It happens in a soft lull after Jester finishes regaling a tale of Orly (unfairly) banning Jester from wagering tattoos during poker nights. Yasha is idly replanting a clump of grass in the blob of mud in front of her, Beau leaning against her while Jester carefully sculpts a mud dick.

"Hey, Jessie?"

"Hmm?" She looks up from putting the finishing touches on the balls. Beau has straightened, an uncharacteristic hesitance in her expression.

"I just wanted to uh- I wanted to thank you. For the Sendings. For always messaging us with updates and stories and keeping us connected. Keeping that the same. In the best way. Not just me and Yash, but everyone, and I have no idea how you manage to save your spells so well when you and Fjord are also battling fuck-all huge serpents all the time but I just wanted to thank you, okay? I'm so glad you do that. Even when your timing isn't uh- the best. I'm so fucking glad. Every time."

Jester's joke about her impeccable timing dies in her chest as she sees the way Beau takes a deep breath in, old aches and haunts and fears moving under her skin. Oh. Oh.

"I was worried-" Her face screws up briefly with something like a wince, like reluctance. But this Beau, who has come so far from a Beau that could barely get out an apology, soldiers through anyway.

"I was kind of worried we'd all part ways and that would be it, you know? The Mighty Nein would scatter to the four winds and we'd be like- weird, and disconnected, and gone. And then suddenly you were in my ear telling me that Fjord had tripped over a net after an inspirational speech to the crew-"

Jester can't hold back her snort, at that one. "Ohmygod, that was so funny-" and sees Yasha smile, briefly, her gaze still fixed on Beau.

"And it just- it felt good, you know? To know that. To know that we might all be physically apart but we'd still be- close. A family."

Beau frowns as she finishes, clearly already rethinking her words, "Aw man that got really-"

-only to get bowled over in a flurry of mud-streaked tiefling and enthusiasm.

"Oh- Beau!" Jester manages, pulling back from the hug and shuffling back enough to lock gazes, affection and exasperation and just a hint of sadness swirling through her tone. "Of course I was going to keep talking with you and Yasha and everyone, Beau, we're family, you all are stuck with us until we die, and then we'll all be ghosts and we can haunt each other and knock off teacups from shelves and eat ghost cupcakes and-"

For a moment, her throat closes up, looking at Beau and seeing double, seeing an angry form in front of a hag hut, yelling about not getting to keep happiness, about being left behind.

"Beau we're a family, we aren't going to leave you, we're all going to stay close forever, and ever, and ever, do you hear me? I promise that.

I'll always send you messages and updates and always keep you updated on what animal Fjord has pissed off now. I'll always save spell slots just for you, just for keeping everyone updated on each other. We're not going anywhere."

She reaches forward, squeezing Beau's hand, tight, as she swipes at her eyes with the other.

"I promise. I promise. You have to believe me."

Beau laughs, and its a cracked laugh, but a real one.

"Oh Jessie, I know better than to ever bet against you. Wouldn't want you to start a religion or anything on my behalf."

"We could." Yasha pipes up loyally, eyes twinkling, but her expression is soft. "We could start a whole religion around Beau's eyes, and her abs, and her dope monk shit and her-"

"-Excellent sexytimes?" Jester breaks across, waggling her eyebrows at Yasha, and laughs as Beau splutters out a "hey!". Yasha just smiles, knowingly, sending Jester into peals of laughter. Beau continues spluttering about betrayal, fake indignation mixing with an underbelly of vulnerability as Jester continues teasing her.

Beau's feelings aren't exactly a surprise to Yasha, having been discussed, here and there under covers in dim rooms, little words in late nights, but there had been a slow growing... melancholy, there too. Albeit, one that was lifting, bit by bit, with every unexpected sending that Beau recieved. 

They warmed Yasha from the inside out as well, (even if she was still unsure of how, exactly, sending worked, like did Jester hear her thoughts like how Veth did? If Veth was connected to herself and she talked to Jester through Beau was Veth automatically looped in? Or-).

But there would always be a bone deep fear, for Beau, even one that was slowly and steadily being won over with love. With every time Caleb wanted her to come back and do some research with him. With Fjord planning excursions that could be done with the Cobalt Soul. With each of the little gifts from Caduceus that Yasha would bring back from her visits from him.

But nothing had been quite like the way she'd jolted in surprise with the first message, the way she'd mouthed Jester, its Jester, and how the shock morphed into a rising affection and wonder.

(Thoreau better be having a terrible time in prison, she decides. Maybe later she'll ask Jester to send him a super creepy message.)

(Maybe it would be nice for the rest of them to send Jester messages too. She'll ask Caleb, when she sees him next week. She would ask Veth, but sometimes it seems like Veth's messaging magic doesn't work for Yasha like how she expects. If the whole Mighty Nein are going to send Jester messages back, it shouldn't rely on Yasha's super cool telepathic link with Veth.)

But for now- Yasha feels her smile widen, as Beau, standing now, flings some mud directly at Jester's face, and Jester shrieks and uses her tail to trip her as she gets up to flee. Yasha dodges back as Beau does a half flip, to avoid falling.

"Beau." She calls sweetly, reaching behind her where she knows another tub of mud to be, and when Beau looks at her, she says, with great gravitas and weight. "I love you. We all love you."

And right as Beau's expression softens, she swings her hand around, and splats a handful of mud directly into her chest, knocking her back a full step. Beau's wordless yell of outrage is drowned out by Jester breaking down in laughter. Yasha laughs as well as she jumps to her feet, dodging an enraged monk who still can't suppress her smile. She feels Jester's hand slip into hers, sees a quick flash of canines as she grins and dodges a thrown ball bearing, magic gathering around her free hand.

"Lets go, lets GO, I know where we can get a good vantage point, and then we can draw up plans for Beau's new religion-"

"The only religion we need is me knocking both of you on your butts-"

Beau, adrenaline coursing through her veins, recognizes the familiar magic of Jester's dimension door swirling into the air. And as she grabs Yasha's hand (who doesn't really try very hard to dodge), tossing empty threats at Jester who is somehow casting and giggling at the same time, she thinks that this- this is what love looks like.

[dawl-and-dapple]

rating: general word count: 1443

Essek and Jester being sweet, based on the non-sexual intimacy prompt 'escorting the other to a doctor/ therapist appointment' given by @mllekurtz

***

Can you drive me to the dentist next week pretty please?

It’s been almost a year since Essek had first been asked to give one of his friends a lift. The requests had slowed somewhat since Caleb finally got himself his own car two months ago, but he is not yet necessarily free from this particular duty. Now he receives a text asking to be driven out of town most often when Caleb is occupied with work, sick, or inebriated.

These texts used to make him wince. After some time they made him smile. These days, they tend to catch him a little off-guard.

Is Caleb not available? he responds.

No, Jester texts back, he’s got an appointment too. Are you gonna be busy?

No, I will be available. I’ll drive you.

Thank you!! I’ll meet you outside the school like usual!! Love you so much!!!!

Essek puts away his phone. He remembers where Jester’s dentist is from the last time she had him drive there. There’s a nice café two blocks away where he could wait out her appointment, reading and enjoying a cup of tea, before driving her home again. He puts his mind to picking out which book to bring.

Five days later, when Essek arrives in the small car park across from the art college, he’s twenty minutes early. He occupies himself by methodically checking his emails, texts, then social media.

Caleb has sent him a photo of Frumpkin playing with his television’s cables. Essek asks if he’s forgotten about his therapy appointment. Caleb responds with a photo taken through a windscreen of a city road, blocked with traffic as far as the eye can see, and a text reading, I wish I had.

Someone knocks on Essek’s window.

“Hey!” Jester’s nose presses up against the glass. “You got here early,” she says, muffled. “You should have let me know.”

“I am not going to encourage you to leave class early, Jester.” He opens the passenger door.

“Boo.” Jester flops into the seat and begins buckling herself in as Essek starts the engine. “We could have hung out a little! We’ve all been so busy since the summer and I miss you, you know. I wanna know how you’ve been! Do you wanna talk about work? Probably not. How about, um, how’s the new flat? I heard Caduceus helped you settle in.”

“I have been well,” Essek says as he pulls out of the car park. “You remember that miniature flower bed you helped me build on my windowsill? I have been growing a little basil plant there.”

“Oh! Have you used the leaves to make anything?”

Essek winces. Of the scant few recipes he could reliably prepare, most are from his home. He’d failed to find a Xhorhasian supermarket in the area after moving and had taken it as a strong sign to try working with what he’d been given. But his lack of experience cooking anything at all made adapting that much harder.

“The cooking part...I am working on that. I will be asking for Caduceus’ guidance again.”

“I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it,” Jester says airily while digging through the small collection of audiobooks and music discs in the door compartment. “How long have you had these? Caleb’s car doesn't even have a CD player. Oh, I bet Caleb could help!” She grins at his reflection in the internal mirror. “He can make some very tasty Zemnian meals, you know.”

“I do know. I believe I’ve eaten one or two prepared by him at a dinner party with the others.”

“You should ask him to teach you the recipes.”

“I might. What did you get up to today? Painting? Sculpting?”

Jester smirks. She answers him, goes on to talk about her current project (a ten-foot-tall collage of hundreds of vintage pinup photographs, though Essek cannot parse the meaning of it). Essek gets the distinct impression that she’s barely holding herself back from needling him more.

As they reach the edge of the city, the traffic slows. A heavy sense of doom overcomes Essek, while Jester flips through the radio channels.

Someone behind Essek honks. He grits his teeth.

“Oh, the traffic here is pretty bad, huh.”

Essek flexes his hands around the steering wheel. “Yes, it seems so.”

Jester turns the radio off. “Do you have to be anywhere after this?”

“No,” he replies. The car comes to a dead halt. “I do not.”

Jester bounces in her seat as if she might be able to peer over the roofs of the dozens of gridlocked cars ahead of them. “Oh man,” she says. “I’d get there faster if I walked.” She goes quiet. After a heartbeat she smiles and turns towards Essek. “Hey Essek? Do you have any sexy audiobooks?”

“What?”

“Like, do you have a CD in here of someone reading a porn book out loud.”

“No, why would I have–?”

“That’s okay, I can plug my phone into the dashboard.”

“Please, Jester.”

“Okay!” She laughs, tucking her phone back into her jacket pocket. “What CDs do you have? All the titles are in Undercommon...”

“Most are audio documentaries. There are two about special relativity, one about magnetism, and one on the life of a particular astrophysicist. There’s also a rock album in there somewhere; my brother gave it to me as a joke.”

Jester snorts.

“I am very boring, aren't I?”

“No!” Jester suddenly grabs his shoulder and shoves him around in his seat, which would have worried him were they moving at any velocity at all. “You’re not! Essek, you’re very fun and interesting.”

Essek smiles as he’s shaken from side to side, keeping his eyes on the traffic jam ahead. “I am very fun and interesting,” he repeats.

She finally stops shoving at his shoulder. “I should get you some new fun CDs for your car. I don’t even know where to buy CDs these days, but I'll get you some.”

“Can you promise there will be no more than one pornographic item in this collection?” he asks, raising his brow at Jester in the mirror.

“Oh, sure.”

“Then, as they say, go wild.”

“Neat. Hey! I know we’ve all been super busy lately but I bet we can do, like, a dinner party or something. Just one evening. Yasha got back into town this week and Veth says Luc has been spending most weekends at his friends’ houses so she can come over. Maybe a Saturday night?” She’s pulled out her phone already. “We can just hang out in my and Fjord’s flat for a while. Or yours!”

“I do not think I have enough space for nine.”

“But would you be free?”

He thinks. “Next weekend, yes.”

Jester pumps her fist in the air. “Awesome! I’ll text the others.”

The traffic moves ever so slightly. Essek watches the cars ahead of him like a cat watching a bird.

“Beau might be the busiest but I bet she’ll want to come. Oh, Caleb can cook something with Caduceus! One of those meals you liked.”

“Uh, maybe.”

“Maybe you can show him a recipe you know too. Try that sometime.”

“Hm.” The car in front finally budges. Essek inches forward.

“I bet he’d love that, Essek.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I know you don't think you’re a good cook, but I remember that rice meal you made when I came over last spring and it was good!”

Now they’re driving again, if at no more than five mph. Essek grips the wheel.

“Make that meal, put on a good movie, wear something cute — that black top with the long sleeves I think — and it’ll be smooth sailing. Trust me, Fjord was no match for the tried and true Lavorre Technique.”

“Hm.”

“And then maybe you can finally talk to him about your big fat crush on Cay-leb.”

The car directly ahead halts. Essek swears and steps on the brake. He stares at Jester. “Pardon?”

She just grins at him.

“I was not listening. Sorry.”

“Oh that’s okay,” she croons, “But guess what…”

Essek is familiar with this tone. It doesn't scare him as much as it used to; he’s developed somewhat of a pavlovian response to her mischief in spite of his initial displeasure. As her grin widens, Essek feels a mirrored anticipatory smile spread across his face.

“You’re stuck in here with me,” she sings, waving her index fingers side-to-side with each word, “and we’re stuck in here together, and I wanna know the truth. So…” She leans forward. “Don’t you like him?”

Essek, face hot, but still smiling, reaches for the radio fast enough to fumble the air conditioning.

[beauregardlionett]

i think i might understand the concept of home

AO3 Link

Yasha’s car had broken down on the side of the road in some tiny town she only meant to pass through. She hadn’t even read the welcome sign half-a-mile back, so gods knew where she was. Thankfully, there was a shoulder and a sidewalk, so she wasn’t stuck in the middle of traffic. She had the hood popped and stared helplessly down at the tangle of mechanics she did not understand.

Nothing was smoking, so she figured that must be a good thing.

“Need a hand?”

Yasha glanced up, catching sight of a woman standing just outside the coffee shop Yasha broke down in front of. She stood defined in the sunlight, composed of sharp lines and lean muscle, contained by planes of smooth, coffee-colored skin. She had on a simple grey sports bra under denim overalls littered with stains and distressed patches torn in random places on the legs. Her hair was in a low bun sat over what looked like an undercut all tucked messily beneath a backward cap.

Damn...she was hot.

The woman cocked an expectant eyebrow, reminding Yasha she had yet to answer.

“Oh, um...yes?”

Hot Lady smirked and stepped off the curb to stand at Yasha’s shoulder, leaning over the open hood and inspecting the mess. Yasha was busy inspecting the tanned slope of neck to bare shoulder, all of her quite a sight in the midday sunlight.

Gods, was that a tattoo on her back?

With abrupt yet easy precision, Hot Lady hauled herself up onto the lip of Yasha’s truck and shoved her hand between various pieces of metal. Startled, Yasha looked down at the engine, hoping she wouldn’t have to call emergency services for a hand lost in her car engine.

“The alternator might be shot,” Hot Lady said, squinting as she moved her hand around a little.

“What does that mean?” Yasha managed, only a little strangled.

“Means you need to get your car into a shop because you aren’t going to have much luck getting far without it.” Hot Lady removed her hand and gave a little hop back down to the pavement. She wiped her hand carelessly on her overalls and shrugged a little.

“It’s not a super challenging thing to fix, but it will take a minute. I can point you to a good garage if you need.”

“That would be very helpful. Thank you...um...”

“Beauregard,” the woman said, sticking out her hand with a grin. “Call me Beau.”

After hesitating a moment, Yasha grasped Beau’s hand and gave it a tentative shake, cheeks warm. Her face flushed even warmer when Beau raised her eyebrow again, clearly waiting for Yasha’s name.

“Yasha,” she blurted, horrid awkwardness muddying her chest. “I’m Yasha.”

“Nice to meet you, Yasha,” Beau said as she slowly took her hand back. Yasha already like the way her name sounded rolling off of Beau’s tongue - perhaps far too much for someone she just met.

“You might need to shack up somewhere for the night,” Beau said, pulling her phone from her pocket and texting someone. “Depending on how long the garage takes with your car. I haven’t seen you ‘round here before. You got a place to stay?”

“Oh...no,” Yasha managed. “I’m just passing through.”

“Well, I texted my buddy over at the garage to come get your car. He’ll be here soon. There’s only one hotel in this town, and to be honest, it sucks. My buddy Caleb moved most of his stuff out of his apartment, but he hasn’t turned the lease over yet. He got a big wig job two hours from here and they had him start early, despite the fact he still had a month on the lease. You can crash there if you want. I’m pretty sure he left his mattress.”

Yasha blinked, dazed and flabbergasted at the turn this conversation had taken.

“I...what?”

Beau looked up from her phone, fingers pausing in their rapid texting. She seemed to take in Yasha’s stunned expression and grimaced slightly.

“Sorry, that was a lot all at once.” Beau tucked her phone away and crossed her arms over her chest. Yasha recognized the defensive tactic attempting to look casual with ease. She performed that move often enough herself.

“This ‘helping’ thing isn’t my forte - more Jess’ thing. But uh...yeah. If you need a place to stay, you’ve got one. Promise there're no strings attached or anything like that.”

“But...you don’t know me.”

“True,” Beau shrugged. “But it’s not like there’s anything to steal from Caleb’s place. It’s basically an empty apartment he’s not getting anything out of. Might as well put the place to good use.”

“Okay,” Yasha said after a moment of strange quiet. What else was she supposed to say?

Beau blinked up at Yasha, then grinned, wide and delighted. “Cool.”

A few minutes later, a tow truck pulled up. Beau greeted the driver enthusiastically as Yasha watched on, wondering what she had gotten herself into.

--

“This is it,” Beau said, shoving open the door with her hip as she wrestled the key out of the lock.

Yasha followed Beau in, fingers curled tightly around the strap of her meager duffle bag. The apartment was near barren, as Beau had said. It had a small living area that faded seamlessly into a kitchenette. Down a short hallway appeared to be a bedroom and bathroom, both doors open. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. The only sign someone had recently been occupying the space was the old mattress just visible through the bedroom door and the sagging sofa in the living room.

“Sorry there’s no food in the kitchen, but there’s a store about a block from here if you’re up for a walk. I’d hang around but I have to get to a class.”

Yasha twisted to look at Beau, something bubbling up in her chest that felt a lot like gratitude and a little like something indescribable. She watched as Beau fiddled with her key ring, only realizing what was happening when Beau pulled a key off and tossed it to Yasha. She just barely managed to catch it and not make a fool of herself.

“That’s the key to the door for ya. And,” Beau pulled a crumpled, folded piece of paper from her pocket, holding it out to Yasha. “My number, in case you have questions or you need anything. I’m a night owl and an early riser, so chances are I’ll answer whenever.”

“Thank you,” Yasha warbled after a long moment, clutching the key so hard the grooves of its identity imprinted into her palm. The notches stung like she would never forget their shape. “I mean it. This is...a lot.”

Beau rubbed the back of her neck, scuffing the toe of her sneaker against the worn floorboards. “It’s nothin’ really...”

“No,” Yasha insisted. “It’s a lot. Thank you.”

Beau’s gaze met Yasha’s intense stare, her bright blue eyes wide as they took in Yasha’s sincerity. A handful of seconds stretched into eternity before Beau ducked her head, rubbing at the back of her neck.

“Yeah...sure.”

Yasha was getting the impression she wasn’t the only one completely out of her depth in this situation.

“I’ll come around tomorrow with updates...bye.”

Yasha watched her duck out the door, disappearing down the hallway before she shut the door behind Beau and clicked the lock.

--

The garage had Yasha’s car fixed and ready to go after two days. Yasha was still in town three months later.

In all honesty, she’s not sure how it happened.

The night she planned to leave, Beau had swung by and insisted on seeing her off. They ended up at a diner, tucked into a booth, talking like they actually knew each other. Next thing Yasha realized, it was nearing midnight, and they were being asked to wrap up so the diner could close. The chef had called to them from the window, an older looking man with bright pink hair who gave Beau a knowing look and a wink.

Somehow, that unplanned extra night turned into months. Yasha had taken on the lease from the absent Caleb for his apartment. She found a job at the local florist, a job she quietly enjoyed. The gravity of her situation only set in after she bought sheets for the mattress.

She met Jess - real name Jester, or Genevieve, but Yasha couldn’t sure - a bubbly girl with deep blue hair and the sweetest attitude ever. Her fingertips were permanently paint stained, and she left hastily sketched dicks everywhere she went. Yasha also met the tow truck driver from the first day, a guy named Fjord. They were a weird mix of individuals, but somehow they got on just fine. They ate dinner together every Thursday night at the same bar owned by the guy who tended the bar - one of those small town things. His name was Mollymauk - Molly for short and sometimes they instead of he - with inordinately purple hair and makeup to match.

Yasha never really spent a lot of time in her apartment. She didn’t see the point, not when she had access to the florist shop, or the diner, or anywhere else with Jess, Fjord, Molly, or Beau. Especially not when Jess’ apartment she shared with Fjord was so much warmer, much more like a home.

It took three months before Beau stopped mid-sentence of a story and blinked at Yasha over their pancakes in the diner.

“This is probably a stupid question, but did you have somewhere to be?”

Yasha looked up, confused. “Right now? Uh...no? My shift at the shop doesn’t start for another three hours.”

“No, no, I meant like outside this town. You told me you were passing through, before.”

“Oh,” Yasha set down her fork and looked out the window. Her chest felt tight. That afternoon seemed like a lifetime ago - a whole other person ago. “Not really.”

“Do...uhm,” Yasha looked over at Beau to find her pushing her food around her plate awkwardly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

This was difficult for both of them. If Yasha had learned anything in her time here, it was that they both struggled to convey their emotions eloquently. But that Beau tried meant everything to Yasha. The least she could do was meet her halfway.

“I was running, and I didn’t know where or when I would stop. But I guess this place is where I’m meant to be.”

“Why were you running?” Beau stared at her, gaze intense in a way Yasha found endearing. She watched like nothing else in the world could distract her.

“I...I had a wife. And I lost her rather abruptly almost six months ago. I tried to stay for a while, to keep what we had built together, but I wasn’t strong enough. So I ran and hoped that I would find something worth staying for again before I fell off the world.”

Beau stared at Yasha openly over their half-eaten breakfast, eyes wide.

“You stayed here. Does that mean you found something here?”

Yasha looked at Beau, at her messy bun and her undercut that needed a fresh shave. She took in the puddle of syrup, slowly saturating Beau’s pancakes and the half gone pile of bacon. Beau’s cellphone sat face down on the table so her attention stayed on Yasha. She realized the baggy sweater Beau had on was one Yasha had misplaced almost a month ago. Yasha lost her breath at the butterflies that fluttered to life in her stomach.

“I think so,” Yasha breathed, tethered and unhinged all at once.

--

They didn’t talk about it, because of course they didn’t.

But two weeks after their pancake conversation, Beau invited Yasha out for a night on the town. There were only two bars with decent night life here, and Yasha had been to both of them exactly once during her time here. (The daytime trips to Molly’s bar didn’t count, of course. She had only been to their bar for the night life once.)

She met Beau in the middle, and they walked together the rest of the way.

Beau had gotten her undercut shaved tight again, but it was hidden with the way her hair spilled loose and long down her back. She had a cobalt lace crop top on - the one with the built-in bra. The way it showed off the definition of her muscles was doing things to Yasha. The black cigarette pants didn’t help either.

A few drinks and way too many EDM songs later - or maybe only a few? Yasha couldn’t tell them apart - Yasha remained upright from adrenaline alone. Somewhere between the drinks and the beat of the music, Beau pressed up against Yasha, wiry arms winding around Yasha’s neck as they danced. Yasha wasn’t much of a dancer in any regard, but she was just tipsy enough to not care.

Beau’s hips fit comfortably in the space between Yasha’s hands, and Yasha resolutely tried not to follow that train of thought. For no other reason than she didn’t want to ruin a good thing, and there was no way Beau felt the same.

Beau pushed onto her toes, shiny black boots creasing with the motion as her lace top rode up her enticing torso.

“I really want to kiss you,” Beau called over the heavy thrum of the base. Her voice nearly got lost in the din, but Yasha heard her. She couldn’t pretend she didn’t. The weight of her heart dropping into her stomach hit too heavy and real to ignore.

Fuck, she wanted to kiss Beau, too.

Yasha’s t-shirt stuck to random parts of her torso with sweat, a detail she was now hyper-aware of with how little space existed between her and Beau. The press of bodies around them was abruptly unnerving. So much so, Yasha wound an arm around Beau’s shoulders and steered them both free, ducking into the hallway that lead to the bathrooms as Yasha gasped for air.

Beau leaned her back against the wall for support, peering at Yasha with far too much clarity for someone who could barely stand upright.

“Are you okay, Yash?” Her voice was quieter now that they had moved out of the main bar, but the base still pounded like a heartbeat through the floorboards.

With more confidence than Yasha would ever possess in her life, she caged Beau in, a hand on either side of her head against the wall. As Beau stared up at her with unabashed awe, Yasha’s face warmed with flushed embarrassment.

“I want to kiss you so bad.”

“Then do it,” Beau said. It sounded like a dare, but she said it as if she were asking permission.

With a quick swoop into Beau’s space, Yasha pressed her lips to Beau’s with the barest amount of pressure. A feather-light, electric brush of a promise, a question, and an invitation. Yasha moved no closer.

Beau leaned in, and as far as kisses went, it was simple. Neither of them surged toward the other, or grappled for purchase to deepen the embrace. It was an easy press of lips, testing the waters despite the alluring tug of the tide.

Tipsy seconds later, Beau pulled back first with a soft gasp. Yasha’s eyes fluttered open, and she felt like a cheesy teenager when she realized they had closed without her knowledge.

“Do you want to do this?” Beau asked, voice soft and a little wrecked despite the chaste kiss.

Yasha, never one for many words, gave a quick nod and ducked back in. It wasn’t confidence, more like the beginning of a realization.

Beau held onto her, this time hands back around Yasha’s neck and fingers tangled deep in Yasha’s wild hair. Yasha took one hand from the wall to cup the back of Beau’s head, fingers sliding easily over the short hairs of Beau’s undercut.

It wasn’t a fireball kiss, but it tasted like the whiskey shots they had done half an hour ago. Beau’s lips were soft and a stark contrast to the way she kissed Yasha. It wasn’t falling stars and fire lit in her chest, nor was it a cosmic shift of puzzle pieces snapping into place. As before, it was a realization, a revelation of something that might have been there for a while.

Beau kissed Yasha back, and she thought about pancakes at the diner and memorizing the way Beau’s eyes scrunched when she laughed. Yasha rubbed her thumb over Beau’s jawline and Beau’s sharp grin burst to life behind her eyelids. A tug to Yasha’s hair reminded her of Beau offering to braid Yasha’s messy locks every time they all slept at Jess’ place. Beau licked into Yasha’s mouth and all at once, Yasha pictured her apartment. She saw the walls she had kept carefully bare, the sheets she had bought, but no other furniture. The echoing emptiness of a place abandoned for a better chance, and inhabited by the echo of who Yasha used to be.

And what did people say about echoes being louder in empty rooms?

Beau kissed Yasha, and Yasha realized she didn’t want to be an echo anymore.

Beau made her feel solid in a way that was undemanding. She merely held out her hand and asked for the pieces of Yasha that were real, the parts she was willing to share. She helped Yasha make them into a complete picture.

Yasha kissed Beau back with all the gentle strength she could muster through the weight of her epiphany and the whiskey.

This time, Yasha knew she found something worth staying for.

[sockablock]

The fires dance and shimmer over Vo, but only on the beaches, and not with any fear.

Instead, there is laughter singing through the trees. There is singing, too, warm and bright, the sound of two dozen amateur dancers cheering in the moonlight. 

Somewhere, Yasha is helping a hunter cut logs for the blaze. Somewhere, Jester is telling stories to children about an unknown world. Somewhere, Beau is criticizing a cask of island-wine, and getting very drunk. Somewhere, Veth and Caleb are helping a very old woman fix a watch. 

Fjord straightens up and sticks his poker into the sand, watching the embers go out with a little hiss. He stretches, loosening his neck and wincing when his bruises argue back. He’d gotten thrashed around Vokodo’s cavern pretty hard at the end, there, but most of the firebloom burns are gone now, and between two clerics and a vengeful druid, he doesn’t have much to complain about.

He glances around the beach and can smell the first sizzle of cooking meat. Something fruity hovers past, and he can hear Beau’s singing growing louder.

And then, he notices something else, in the corner of his vision. Past the celebration, farther down the shore, sitting on the sand with his knees against his chest—

It’s Caduceus. His outline is purple in the twilight.

Fjord considers the fire. The music, and then he leaves the poker to finish smoldering by itself. 

By the time he’s nearly reached Caduceus, the merriment of the bonfire is barely a hum amid the turning tides. Light carries farther, though, and here it reflects an orange sea across the starry waves. It would be beautiful, it is beautiful, although it reminds Fjord a little too much of their last fight. He ignores it, instead focusing on the seated shape in front of him.

“Caduceus, you’re going to miss the food at this rate."

There is no immediate answer. Fjord stops, and raises his brow. 

"Caduceus? Oh, shit, is this a vegetarian thing? We should’ve said something earli...er...”

In this light, his friend is mostly shadow, but for a second it almost looks as if Caduceus raises an arm, wipes his face...

Fjord stops. He dares himself to have seen it wrong, and blinks.

"...Caduceus?!” This time, he is shouting. “Cad, is...everything alright?!”

It could be the waves, but for a second, a sniffle, and then—

“Oh, Mister Fjord, I didn’t hear you c—”

“Are you crying?”

Fjord clears the distance in a second, scattering sand everywhere. A part of him instantly curses the decision, why in the world would you rush at him—but another part, the honest part, the deeply confused part, is too worried to do anything else.

But Caduceus...laughs. It’s more stilted than it should be, though then again, Cad’s always been a weird one, in a special way—

Until Fjord sees the tears. There are two streaks of dampness matting Cad’s fur.

“Oh,” he says, before he can stop himself. 

There is a flash in Caduceus’s eyes. It is so small, so brief, so hidden away, that if Fjord had not been staring at him, he would have missed it entirely.

It’s panic. Caduceus says, “No, don’t mind me, Mister Fjord, I think I might’ve gotten carried away.”

Fjord’s mouth opens. It closes. It opens again.

“Carried away?”

“Just a bit.”

Fjord manages to stop gawking on the third try. He drops down, wincing a little at the sharp movement but ending in a determined, eye-level squat.

“Carried away,” he repeats.

Caduceus does not meet his gaze. His voice, when it finally does comes, is more unsteady than Fjord has ever heard.

“I, ah, I think...today was just a lot. It was...there was a lot.”

“Yes, well...yeah,” Fjord says, and tries to shuffle his back into Cad’s face. More sand kicks up around his ankles. “We did fight a fake fire god and nearly set off a volcano. Then again, that sort of thing feels somewhat standard for us.”

Caduceus coughs, and only after a second does Fjord realize it’s a laugh. 

“We, we do certainly get into all sorts of trouble.”

“Right,” says Fjord, still slightly mystified. He glances around the beach, sees Caduceus still avoiding him, hears the raucous melody of cheering far behind.

He looks up. He looks down. Then:

“...can I sit?”

There’s a vague gesture in response. Fjord accepts this as an answer.

The sand is cool. The wind sweeps across his hair.

“I’m...not very...I think I might have a reputation for being somewhat unobservant,” he says, after a pause. “Sometimes. But...I don’t think I’m a fool, Caduceus. Though even a fool could see that you’re upset.”

“I’m n—”

“I’m not done.” He looks up. Far, far above them, the stars glimmer bright. “I think...I think...that although I wasn’t there to see it initially, I believe that ever since you came to join our little troupe, your presence has been very good for us. I worry that...maybe, we haven’t returned the favor.”

“Favor?” Caduceus chuckles. “There’s no favor to return.”

There is a weight to Fjord’s silence.

“Hm. I wonder about that.”

Caduceus feels his brow furrow. He tries to stop it, but it does.

“Mister Fjord,” he says softly, “I don’t expect anything from you.”

“Right,” Fjord nods. “In that case...it’s a failing on our part.”

The waves ebb and flow on the shore. They are far away enough not to fear getting wet, but close enough still to taste the salt breeze.

“Why are you upset?” Fjord murmurs. “Is it...was it the fight? Are you hurt, or—”

“Oh, no. Not me.”

He glances over.

“Then...?”

Caduceus stares at the ground. His boots are off, and little grains of sand cling to his armor.

“Do you...ever feel...frustrated, Fjord?”

“Hah! Is that really your question?”

When the pause carries on, Fjord clears his throat.

“Er...yes, Caduceus. I do.”

“What about guilty? Very guilty.”

“Uh...sure, I think so. Maybe not...I’m not so sure to what degree you’re talking, here, but I’ve definitely had regrets.”

“And...what about feeling like you’re a burden?”

Fjord leans back on his palms. “Caduceus, are we just going down the list of how I go about my day?”

“No,” and when Caduceus chuckles, Fjord can see a little gleam of moonlight against his fur. “I’m, ah, I’m going down mine.”

“Oh.”

“It’s...it was bad on this island. It was...I felt those things...a lot. And, well,” he gives another laugh, “well, it sort of came to a head down in that tunnel.”

Fjord considers this.

“The...”

“The underwater one,” Caduceus says. “When the...the fireblooms opened all around us and I...lost to Vokodo.”

Fjord blinks. “You mean...oh, well...plenty of us had fallen to him at that point, didn’t we? I mean, Yasha forgot the name of her wife and Jester lost her beard oil, er, my beard oil, and I forgot Vandren, and...” 

He trails off, when he sees Cad look up.

“Right,” says Caduceus, “I forgot things too. But...I did something worse. I hurt you.”

Fjord hesitates. “You...didn’t really—”

“I did,” says Caduceus. “I fought against you. I blinded you. And you spent all your spells on me, and when the fight started, you couldn’t defend yourself, and got even more injured.”

“Well,” says Fjord, with as much certainty as he can muster, “I don’t know if...three spells would’ve really changed much.” Then he pauses again, and adds, “Not, uh, not that the gifts of the Wildmother are anything to scoff at. You know.”

Behind them, smoke pours up into the sky. They can’t smell it from here, but the feast is beginning, all joining in together to celebrate, save for two.

“They aren’t,” Caduceus says slowly, “but...do you want to know something, Fjord?”

“Er...of course.”

He also leans back. Also takes a second to breathe deep by the sea.

“In that moment, when I...fell to Vokodo. It was...exhilarating. It...it felt...it felt like...well,” he murmurs a laugh. “It felt like, for a second I had a purpose again.”

Foam dissolves into the sand. Far, far away, a hermit crab surfaces.

“A...purpose?”

“A mission. A goal, a journey, a...a divine reassurance that I was on the right path. It’s something that I...haven’t had since I saw my family.”

“You...wait, really? Why?”

“Well,” Caduceus gives a shrug. “Well, I suppose it’s because I did fulfill that purpose. We got the green glass. We visited the Dusts, and then the Stones, and my family went home to save the Grove. That was all I dreamed about, all that I knew I had to accomplish for...for decades. And we...did it. I did it. And now...it’s over.”

He takes a deep breath.

“And now...I’m just here. I have faith that she’s guiding me to where I need to go, but...where? Why? And...sometimes, even that is...even that feels...”

Fjord turns, and sees Caduceus staring at him. His hair is a tangle tripping down his back. His eyes are hesitant, shining in the moonlight.

“Sometimes...when I am with you all,” he says quietly, “sometimes I just feel...free.”

The waves come and go. The tiny hermit crab faces down an endless, churning, ever-flowing sea.

“She likes freedom, doesn’t she?” Fjord murmurs. “Isn’t that...I mean...that’s what she’s meant to me.”

Caduceus smiles. It’s a half-risen thing. “She meant duty to the Clays. A legacy to fulfill. A home to tend to, a garden to grow, people and family to take care of.”

Fjord meets his gaze. “Is that what you want?”

Caduceus doesn’t answer right away. When he does:

“...I don’t know anymore. Sometimes...I think I want to tend to our friends. Take care of them. Help you all grow to where you can be.”

“You’ve got your work cut out for you.”

“Oh, don’t I know it.”

They are quiet for a moment. Then:

“What about other times?” Fjord murmurs. “What about then?”

Caduceus glances up. He takes in the thousands of stars above him, watches a thousand lights fade and glow.

“It can be scary to not have a purpose.”

“I managed. I managed for...oof, maybe thirty years?”

“Did you like it?” 

Fjord shrugs. “I didn’t know anything else. Then, for a while, I thought my purpose was to fill a role. Be a captain. Become powerful. But...I didn’t much like that.”

“No,” Caduceus chuckles. “I didn’t think you did.”

“In a way, though,” Fjord sighs, “I mean...I don’t really know if I have a purpose either. Most of the time...I’m just here. I’m just...doing my thing. As a member of the Mighty Nein. I’m helping our friends as much as I can, and I’m getting to see the world. And learn new things. And...in doing so, I...well, I think maybe I’ve been more free than I ever had been. Maybe that’s a purpose. Even if it doesn’t feel like, I dunno, divine providence, or whatever, I’m...I’m still happy doing it. I love our friends. I think that’s enough.”

“Yes,” Caduceus says quietly. “I...I’m happy with them too.”

“Well, there you go, then!” Fjord taps him on the arm. “Maybe that’s all you really need. And I’m sorry it doesn’t feel...feel like a godly mission, but it still should be worth hanging onto, no?”

When he glances back, Caduceus is still looking at him.

“Right,” he echoes. “I think it is.”

Maybe it’s the beach, or the heat from the bonfire, but Fjord can feel his face getting a little warm. He coughs.

“I hope, er, that helped. I don’t know if that’s...good advice, to turn other people into your purpose. Because now that I think about it, it does still sort of sound like that whole garden-tending thing, which is a little contradictory—”

“Fjord?”

“Um, yes?”

“It helped.”

“Oh, good.”

“Fjord?”

“...um. Yes?”

Caduceus’s eyes are turned to the sky.

“I want to be free, too. But...I would like to be free with everyone else. And with you.”

Fjord coughs again. Though it isn’t as sharp. And the warmness is nice.

“I’d like that too.”

They sit there on the beach for a while after that. Later, perhaps, their friends will realize that they are missing, and come calling for them. Later, perhaps, there will be food to share and island-wine to drink and songs to sing. Later, they will sleep in huts beneath the stars and even after that, much, much later, perhaps there will even be a new path, a new journey, a new mission to follow and a new purpose to chase.

But all that will happen later. For now, all there is, is the sound of the waves, the brush of wind, and freedom, together.

— — —

✨ Ko-Fi Link in Bio! ✨ | Requests are OPEN

[your-turn-to-role]

Hello there! i saw someone else doing this and i thought it was a fun and cool idea so: Headcanon Saturday (or sunday if its sunday for you): share a favorite headcanon (or lots of headcanons), big or small, if you feel like it! Your blog is very cool and I love seeing your thoughts whenever they pop up on my dash! keep doing what you do :D

it is in fact sunday for me! (or, it was when you sent this, it's wednesday now bc i had an assignment i had to do and uh, nz just went back into major lockdown so that’s fun)

but thank you so much!

and honestly this question had me stumped for a bit, because, in theory i have some, right? but, one, i'm less of a theory fan and more of a collector fan, i can put together minuscule details from all over the show to get a big picture of a character, but i rarely have headcanons that aren't based in some show evidence or other

and when i do have some, they either end up in a meta post im writing, or in a specific tag (like my cr nd headcanons i'll link a bit further down), or in a fic that i will write half of and never post bc i am chronically terrible at finishing things 😂

that said! i have scoured through fic ideas and discord server messages, so here have a few

fave headcanon that's not mine

disabled essek. like, thank you fandom for this one, it's incredibly dear to my heart, i consider it canon, nothing can convince me otherwise, it is going in all my fics, just.... comfort character

sometimes a character can be a neutral evil criminal and a disability icon okay

fave identity headcanon

see this tag for my various "why cr characters are neurodivergent" essays, also, fjord and jester are arospec thank you good day

a couple ones just based on dnd mechanics that i enjoy

- gilmore is a couple levels self taught in wizard

(he at the very least would have magic initiate if you were to build him like a pc bc he has identify, which is not a sorcerer spell, but... something about how he loves magic and was very determined to stand out but also something happened to him with the whole runechild thing that makes him scared to admit he is one so obviously he wouldn't flaunt that power, also the way he's kinda self deprecating whenever he has to admit he doesn't know wizard stuff, yeah, he definitely tried to teach himself magic the non sorcerer way)

- percy has a pristine organisation system for every room he owns and if you mess it up he can no longer find anything

this one is based off of two things. 1) percy is canonically a very neat and tidy person. after the feast with the briarwoods he goes home, wrecks his room trying to vent his feelings, and then barricades himself in his workshop. when vox machina find his room the next morning matt notes that percy's room is never messy like this. also, just in how he talks to grog when grog's snooping in his workshop, percy definitely knows the precise location of every tool in there. also he's just a precise person in general.

2) taliesin's weakness in rolling good for percy is investigation checks. he fails them almost every time. he has a decent int mod, but the dice just decided no investigation checks for you! (also, i haven't gone back to confirm this, so i may be wrong, but i'm pretty sure one of the few good investigation checks he makes is in whitestone castle). strict organisation system. he is absolutely useless without it 😂

aaaand, fave angsty headcanon (bc it's me, there was gonna be one)

the blumendrei didn't leave their hometown for days after they killed their parents. like. okay i've had a fic i've been lowkey writing for ages about these guys (yes i have like 40 cr fics in some form of wip status, no none are finished, this is how i exist), in the aftermath of that, bc i love them and i have a lot of thoughts about it

(also, not that i can prove it bc the fic was never posted but i kinda predicted the, cold stone tower overnight thing, which had me feeling A Way when that became canon!)

but anyway what this is based on is like... there's an idea in the fandom that trent directly ordered them to kill their parents but he really didn't. like obviously he put every step in place, but when caleb's telling that story, trent barely even comes up. he talks about how he found out his parents were traitors and how he "knew what he had to do"

so honestly, given everything we know about how trent engineers situations, it makes the most sense to me that the blumendrei, didn't want trent to know about this at all

like they believed the lie that their parents genuinely were traitors, so if you find out that horrifying secret, in the environment they'd been in for the past two years? that's shameful, horrifically so. why would they tell trent about that if they could avoid it? why risk getting branded the same, you've been told up to this point you're special, and you'd kill to keep that title. why on earth would you admit that your bloodline is tainted like that?

no, they would have tried to cover it up, as long as they could. which, is exactly what trent would want bc that again puts them on the back foot, but like... yeah, i fully believe they waited it out for a couple of days before going to trent until they were sure they couldn't wait any longer for bren to get better without drawing even more suspicion. and, since their cover story is they were supposed to be visiting their parents anyway, maybe they didn't go all that far

[karlajoyner]

Stamps (Luke Patterson x Reader)

A/n: Hey guys so this one was rather long. I don’t know if I liked it very much but that’s just me being critical of myself. Anyways I hope you enjoy it!

Requested by: kennice1 (Wattpad)

Warnings: None

————

My eyes opened slightly to see my boyfriend laying beside me in his suit from the night prior.

We had done it.

We played the Orpheum.

And got rid of Caleb stamps.

Now we were here the very next day in Julie's garage like we'd been the past couple weeks feeling better than ever.

"Good morning beautiful" His raspy voice spoke as he to was barely opening his eyes.

"Good morning Luke" I replied staring up at the ceiling.

The bright sun rays hitting many different points of the studio since it was probably near mid day now.

"Morning? It's afternoon" Another voice in the room spoke making my head whip in their direction.

"Well then good afternoon my dear brother" I grinned sitting up only to see Reggie still passed out on the barkin lounger.

"Has Julie come in today yet?" Luke asked sitting up as well, pulling my body into his.

"Yeah. Said she was gonna go have breakfast and get dressed before coming back for practice. She also said she'll bring us something back"

"Oh to have breakfast. What a privilege we now have" I said stretching out my body.

"I sure did miss pancakes. I hope we have that" Reggie spoke in his morning voice.

"Look who's awake"

"Morning"

"Afternoon" I corrected him standing up.

"Where are you going?" Luke pouted.

"To get dressed for practice too. In case you haven't noticed I need to get out of this thing" I spoke pointing down at the long royal blue dress that sat tightly on my body.

"Or you could just stay in it. Maybe rip it up a bit make it more fitting" Luke suggested pushing the dress up my leg.

"Can you not try to sexualize my little sister in front of me?" Alex spoke.

"Sorry" Luke apologized.

"My boyfriend can sexualize me all he wants" I argued making my way towards the exit.

"Gross"

"I think it's endearing" Reggie said making me giggle.

"I'm gonna go see if Julie has anything I can barrow. And maybe a sewing machine. I think you were onto something there Lukey" I teased the boy watching a smirk take over his face before I walked out.

I giggled deciding to surprise Julie at her front door for the first time as an actual human being again.

Since I couldn't just poof into rooms anymore.

A grin formed on my face as I reached the front porch being careful to avoid any windows up the driveway.

"Look at you y/n. Looking as lovely as you did last night"

An all too familiar voice spoke from behind me before I could press the doorbell.

My heart immediately dropped as I spun around coming face to face with the devil himself.

"Caleb" I whispered.

"What are you doing here?"

"Oh I just came to pay a little visit.... Tell me how does it feel to be alive again. Oh it must feel great"

"Just leave us alone. We've already defeated you and we're not joining your stupid house band" I bravely spoke watching as he inched closer.

I gulped nervously backing up until my back hit the door behind me and he was only a few feet away.

"That's not very nice of you to say. I've offered you and your boys everything and this is how you repay me. With insults. Nice try trying to be brave sweetheart but we both know your scared out of your mind. Scared that I'll hurt you. Or your little bandmates. Am I wrong?"

"Leave us alone" I repeated attempting to stand my ground

"I can see why Luke's so infatuated with you. Your strong headed like him. Too bad you won't make it home for breakfast"

My eyes widened as he grabbed ahold of my shoulders. My eyes rolling the back of my head.

"I have a fight too" I smirked hearing footsteps coming up the pathway.

My eyes fell upon a face I recognized to be none other than Nick. Julie's crush she'd been telling me about for weeks.

"Oh there's someone here" He said noting my presence.

"Hey, you look familiar. Wait. Aren't you that other girl in Julie's hologram band?" He asked hopefully.

"That's me" I smiled at the boy.

"I'm y/n" I said sticking my hand out for him to shake. He took it smiling back at me.

“I’m Nick”

"So your here to see Julie?" I asked ringing the doorbell for the two of us.

"Uh yeah. I didn't get to see her last night after the show so I thought I'd bring her these" He said showing me the flowers in his hand.

"How sweet. The broken hearted teenager fighting for his girl" I spoke mischievously raising an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry what?" He asked.

"Julie's told me about you Nick. It seems she's canceled on you a few times now hasn't she?"

"Well yeah but that's just because she was busy"

"Are you sure about that? In all honesty she just doesn't seem that interested if you ask me"

"R-really?" He asked looking down with a frown.

I cheekily bit my lip as the front door opened.

Taking my chance and caught the boy off guard, pulling him in for a passionately rough kiss.

Making sure that he fell into the trance. The flowers in his hand fell to the ground as he held my waist pulling me closer.

"N-Nick? Y/n?!" Julie's voice rang through my ears.

"Oh Julie. I-uh didn't see you there" I panted pulling away.

Slipping a note into Nicks hand before his eyes went from purple swirls back to his normal eyes color.

"J-Julie" he stuttered going to pick up the flowers.

"I-I don't know what happened"

"I think I can explain what's going on here. Nicks just not that into you Jules. Sorry. Anyways don't tell Luke about this. Wouldn't want anyone to get hurt now would we? See you later" I smirked walking down the front path of the house. Leaving the two dumbfounded.

I made sure I was out of sight before poofing away to the one place I called home. Awaiting for my revenge.

Julie's POV

I stood there in shock as y/n walked away. Leaving Nick and I standing on my front porch.

"Julie I- I can explain. She just- She was here and we started talking. I didn't even know her. I though she was your friend"

"I did too" I mumbled in confusion. What was wrong with her?

"She left me this. It probably her number but I don't want it. Your the only girl I want Julie" He said throwing the paper on the ground.

"I-I don't know what to say Nick. I um- can we talk about this later?"

"Of course. Take all the time you need"

"I will"

"These are for you by the way" He said sticking his hand out holding a bouquet of flowers.

"Thanks" I muttered watching as he too walked down the same path out the front gate. I picked up the paper Nick dropped. Confusion coursing through me. Until I opened the paper.

She's home at last. But alone. Don't make this any harder and come join my house band or else....

~Your friend at the HGC

I read to myself. Everything making sense now. I had to show the boys.

Y/n's POV

I glared at Caleb who sat across from me. Specifically at the same table we were seated at the very first night we entered this dump.

"They're not gonna come" I stated crossing my arms.

"Really? You think so?"

"They're not that stupid"

"Y/n you underestimate your bandmates. Your Luke's girlfriend, Alex's sister, and Reggies bestfriend. Of course they're coming for you. And when they do they'll be gifted with a new stamp. Just like you" He grinned at me making me scoff.

As if on cue someone flashed into the middle of the room making me audibly groan in frustration.

"Seriously?!" I shouted.

"Told you" Caleb spoke making me roll my eyes.

"Boys welcome home"

"This isn't our home. We came for my sister and we're leaving" Alex spoke up.

"That doesn't seem to be on my schedule for the day. Why don't I have Dante help get you boys settled into your new rooms?"

"Y/n let's go"

"She's not going anywhere. She can't yet"

"Why not?"

"Show them" Caleb said as I glared dagger through him.

"Oh now you don't want to speak. Don't be rude y/n show them what I've gifted you" Caleb encouraged me again.

I simply kept quiet with my arms still crossed.

"Fine then I'll show them" I let out a scream as my arms separated from each other turning until my wrist was finally viable to the three boys in front of me.

"What did you do?" Reggie asked as they inspected the golden stamp on my wrist.

"This my dear pal Reginald is a new stamp and once activated will send shocks through y/n here once again. Only this time it'll hurt just about three times as bad. That is until you agree to become apart of my house-band. Or you could just leave her here on her own it's your choice really" Caleb spoke tapping my wrist.

My eyes widened as the stamp began to float in the air before placing itself back on my wrist.

Suddenly an excruciating pain coursed through my body immediately making me drop to my knees.

"You have until tonight's show to make up your mind" He spoke before flashing out leaving us alone in the empty ballroom. Immediately I was engulfed by a pair of strong arms as the pain tingled on my wrist.

"Y/n! Baby are you okay?" Luke asked wiping away the stray tears that had escaped my eyes

"What happened? How'd Caleb get to you?"

"It was in front of Julie's house this morning. I went to ring the doorbell. I didn't even get to do it before Caleb showed up, possessed my body, made me kiss Nick in front of Julie, and then brought me here"

"He made you do what?!" Luke shouted.

"Uh- did she not mention that?" I asked sheepishly.

"She did not"

"All she said was that you were acting really weird and that you left this note" Alex said pulling out a folded up letter from his back pocket.

"Then forget, I said it" I quickly spoke attempting to move the conversation along.

"We'll talk about his later. We need to figure out how to get this stamp off your wrist" Luke said inspecting it closely.

We sat in Julie's garage trying to come up with an idea on how to get the stamp off which wasn't going so well since it still was sending electric shocks directly through my body.

I groaned in pain as another jolt course me evidently leaving me weaker as the time passed. It was getting dark out and we were running out of time.

"Guys it's almost 8:30. The show starts at 9:00" Julie said showing us her phone screen.

"We've got to figure out how to get this thing off" Luke shouted in frustration at the rest of the band.

The three of them expressing concern on their faces.

"Okay we have to think. What happened last night? What did we do to make your stamps disappear" Julie asked as Luke helped me sit up.

"Easy. Julie said she loved us. We said it back then we hugged"

"That's it! Julie said she loved us. She connected with us and we did with her"

"So your saying Julie has to say it again and hug y/n?" Reggie asked.

"We could try it" Julie suggested walking over to me.

I nodded standing up immediately falling back down as I was zapped once more. The stamp on my wrist tingling afterwards.

"Baby are you okay?" Luke whispered holding me in his arms.

"I-I'm fine. Let's just get this over with" I spoke standing up once more.

I looked at the girl in front of me seeing her eyes filled with hope.

"I love you" She spoke softly pulling me in for a hug.

"I love you you too Jules" I whispered in her ear. We pulled back seeing the stamp flatly sitting upon my skin.

"It- it didn't work"

"Do it again" Luke demanded.

"It's not gonna work Luke"

"It has to. Do it again" He ordered. I shook my head no looking at the girl in front of me. Her eyes beginning to tear up.

"It's okay Julie. I'll be okay" I whispered wiping away the single tear that left her eyes.

"Don't worry about me"

"How could I not? I can't lose you a second time y/n. Your like my big sister and I really do love you"

"I love you too. But I guess it only worked the one time" I said before another shock hit me.

"We could always figure out your unfinished business" Reggie suggested as I regained my posture.

"We don't have time"

"I have to get the Hollywood ghost club before that show or I'll become thin air"

"I'm coming with you" Luke said standing up.

"No your not. You are staying here. With Julie. Where your safe"

"Julie's not my girlfriend you are. So I'm going with you whether you like it or not. I'm sure Caleb wouldn't mind anyways"

"Luke Patterson you are not going anywhere"

"He's not but I am" Alex spoke.

"I am too"

"Not you guys too" I groaned looking at Julie for help.

"Do you understand what'll happen if you guys come back with me? Calebs going to brand you for life"

"So what?”

"So everything we've accomplished up to now would've been for nothing"

"It's going to be nothing if your not here with us" Reggie spoke.

"Julie a little help here"

"You guys need to go with her" The girl said letting out a breath.

"No Jules. You need them here with you. It's not Julie and the Phantoms without the Phantoms"

"Forget about the band right now y/n. You need them with you. You can't live whatever life you have left without your friends, your family, and your true love" I sighed looking at the girl who smiled softly at me.

"You guys brought music back into my life and for that I'll be forever grateful. And with Flynn I'll get through this. But I will never forgive myself if I separate you from your boys" She said making my eyes water.

"Our boys" I corrected her pulling her in for a tight hug.

I sighed in content as the rest of the boys joined our hug one last time.

"I love you guys"

"We love you too"

And that's when I felt it.

The feeling from last night. I was no longer week. The tingling had stopped.

"Your shining!" Julie gasped pulling away first.

Smiles formed on everyone's faces as the stamp arose form my wrist dispersing into thin air.

"W-we did it!" We did it!" Alex shouted jumping up and down excitedly.

"It makes sense now. I didn't just hug one of you. I hugged all of you!"

"I guess love really does conquer all" Luke stated pulling me into his arms, making sure to leave space so I could still look up at him.

"We did it baby"

"We did it" I confirmed pulling him in for a loving passionate kiss with everyone cheering in the background.

————

Up Next: Charlie Gillespie x Reader

Jeremy Shada x Reader

Charlie Gillespie x Owen Patrick Joyner x Reader

Reggie Peters x Reader

Charlie Gillespie x Reader

Reggie Peters x Reader

Carrie Wilson x Reader

Sunset Curve x Reader

————

@lolychu @headheartbellarke @bookish0918 @kcd15 @ifilwtmfc @moviesbooksandfandoms @lovesanimals @lavender-writer @kaitieskidmore1 @morganayennefertyrell @iloveteenwolf @ghostofmgg @jammi13 @theravenclawlife

[mollymauk-teafleak]

Same Smile

Huge thanks to my wonderful girlfriend @spiky-lesbian and my amazing friend @minky-for-short for the inspiration and listening to me reigniting my widomauk obsession.

Please reblog and leave a comment over on Ao3!

------

Caleb Widogast did not know his husband, Mollymauk Tealeaf, had an identical brother.

He didn't know his husband had two identical brothers.

He didn't know one of those identical brothers is on shore leave and was sitting on his couch. Not until he kissed him, anyway.

Basically a Modern AU where all of the tenants of the Tealeaf body are identical triplets!

------

Caleb dropped his satchel on the floor with a dull, heavy thunk. He tried to find it in him to care when one of the overtaxed buckles popped open and a pen, some student’s papers and a handful of crystals spilled across the hall rug. That could be a problem for tomorrow morning.

But for tonight he’d had a very, very long day. He’d had two seminars where none of his students had done the reading, a lab demonstration that had gone horribly wrong and made him smell like ammonia all day, he’d had to eat lunch on the train to make it to the bookshop on time only to find the day’s delivery was wrong and he’d ended up with hundreds of copies of a medical textbook that was very informative but probably weren’t going to sell very well. All in all it had been a pretty shit day and a burst buckle was not going to muscle its way in on top of all that.

Caleb had a very narrow, very selective list of what was going to be allowed in the rest of his day. And top of that list was finding his husband, slumping down next to him and pressing his face to the curve of his neck where the scent of his perfume was the strongest. Next on that list was letting his son sit on his lap and do that adorable thing he’d been doing lately where he rubbed his head all over his papa while babbling contentedly, almost like he was just telling Caleb about his day. Next was his daughter curling around his shoulders and purring loudly right next to his ear.

And that was about it, honestly. Maybe a cup of tea.

Caleb hung up his coat and scarf, both of them still dusted with drizzle from outside, kicking his shoes into the corner. He half considered going and putting his pyjamas on but that wasn’t on the list, he just needed to have Molly run his fingers through his hair to work the knots out of it and tell him everything was okay, that he was home now.

Molly was curled up on the sofa, the slightly tatty one with it back to the door. He had his hair loose, just pushed back from his face with a thin leather headband. It looked nice, Caleb made a vague mental note to tell him so.

“Hey,” Caleb leaned over the edge of the sofa, already smiling just from the closeness, “You would not believe the day I’ve had…”

He didn’t give his husband a chance to answer, just kissing him softly, catching his lips halfway through forming a word. Caleb melted into it, putting his hand to his face, stoking his thumb across a cheek that was slightly rougher than he remembered it being that morning.

Caleb froze, eyes snapping open.

He yanked himself backwards, face completely expressionless as he stared at this person he’d just kissed. This person who absolutely, definitely was not his Mollymauk.

That person grinned crookedly, “I think you’re still having it, Red.”

Whenever Caleb was confronted by sudden panic, his brain chose to cope with it by shutting down entirely, by going into some kind of distant stand-by mode like a computer overwhelmed by a virus and choosing to simply crash in response.

Which was probably why he responded to this stranger that looked exactly but not exactly enough like his husband, sitting on his sofa and who he’d just passionately, mistakenly kissed, by opening his mouth and saying, “You’re not on the list.”

The stranger’s lopsided grin didn’t fade, the same sharp teeth that lived in Mollymauk’s mouth flashing but a few of these were cracked, one entirely made out of dentist’s acrylic, like this person had been punched in the face a few times. They were also wearing black leathers mostly, a sleeveless tunic that billowed out into a coat, a tight white shirt underneath and close fitting pants. And the tattoos weren’t right, he had them for certain but the designs and placement were wrong, these were heavily done in stark black and showed mostly waves and coordinates and compasses. They looked like homemade stick and poke jobs. The jewellery wasn’t as heavy either, seaglass threaded onto leather and thin gold chains.

Not Mollymauk. Definitely not Mollymauk.

“You must be Caleb,” they chuckled knowingly, “Nice to finally meet you.”

Caleb was saved from having to think of where to go from there by footfalls on the creaky floorboards in the hallway and Mollymauk appearing in the doorway. His actual Mollymauk, he glanced up and down him and confirmed it- the heavy gems hanging from his horns, the bright flowing coat and high boots, the scars that littered his neck and collarbone, the stretch marks that peeked between the waist of his leggings and his crop top.

What threw Caleb for a moment was the slightly harried, slightly exasperated expression on his face. He could count on both hands the amount of times he’d actually seen Mollymauk look stressed like that. Also the fact that he was holding a tray on which he’d actually gone to the effort of arranging two mugs that almost matched, sugar in a little bowl, a milk bottle, a handful of spoons.

Molly’s red eyes flickered between them for a moment before his face slumped into an expression of equal parts guilt and defeat. Like the face of someone who’d forgotten to water someone’s beloved houseplant and had been caught in the middle of replacing it.

“Oh,” he said in an attempt at cheeriness that was edged with too much tiredness to be convincing, “So you’ve met already…”

“A little more than that,” the Not Mollymauk laughed, leaning back casually and kicking their boots up onto the scuffed coffee table, “Your husband’s a good kisser, Moll.”

Caleb gave a strangled squeak of alarm, all that he could come up with in his own defence while his brain was still in static mode, feeling his face flush a hot, prickly red.

Molly just shook his head, an exhausted kind of realisation tightening his already tight smile, “Um...Caleb, this is Kingsley. Kingsley is, uh...he’s my brother.”

Caleb stared at him blankly, metally tearing through his files for any hint that his husband had mentioned a brother before and coming up empty, “Your...he’s not on my list, Mollymauk.”

Molly tilted his head slightly and gently skipped over that, shooting Caleb a brief, pleading look that promised an explanation later. He moved past Caleb to set the tray down on the coffee table, his tail giving an irritated flick to move his apparent brother’s feet out of the way first.

Kingsley moved, apparently completely unfazed by anything that had happened so far, “He’s cute, Moll, where did you find him? When you told me you’d shacked up with a professor of all things, I was expecting someone a little more-”

“We met at one of my shows,” Molly cut across him, not wanting to hear the end of that sentence, “We were friends for years and then we got together. And he isn’t just a professor, he’s got the bookshop too.”

“Gods, your band!” Kingsley laughed, folding his legs up underneath him instead, “I remember that, you and Yash and that busted old guitar you had...I mean, fuck man, if he still married you after hearing you play, you know it’s true love.”

Molly gave a noncommittal grunt, pushing one of the mugs at him perhaps a little harder than he needed to.

Caleb hesitantly moved to sit in a chair off to the side, still quite unsure what to do. He was so distracted he almost sat on Frumpkin, who huffed and slithered into his master’s lap, glaring through slitted eyes at this doppelganger of someone he already wasn’t fond of.

“But yeah, like I was saying,” Kingsley, cradled the tea between cupped hands as scarred as his brother’s, “The Revelry’s got me running this cargo to Nicodranas and I thought hey, if I’m going to be in the area, why not drop in on my favourite brother?”

“Why not,” Molly repeated, a little thinly, “Without calling or sending a letter or anything to let me know you’d be stopping by…”

Caleb winced a little at the undercurrent of annoyance underneath his love’s voice but Kingsley only laughed, like it was a joke.

“C’mon, you know that’s not how I work, Moll. I never know where I’m going to be heading or when. I’m just glad I got to see you! Especially seeing as apparently you got married since I last saw you? And popped out two kids, what the hell?”

“Una is adopted,” Molly mumbled, like that was the important point.

“I didn’t know you had it in you,” Kingsley continued brightly, now smiling wide enough that Caleb caught the wink of a gold tooth, “I mean, you’re easily the most responsible out of all of us but still, married with kids, that's actually insane…”

Caleb’s eyebrows rose. He adored his husband but one thing he’d never be able to call him was responsible. Molly caught the movement from where he was sitting next to Kingsely and his cheekbones coloured.

Feeling a sudden stab of guilt, a sudden need to rush to Molly’s defence after he’d done it for him, Caleb blurted out, “Mollymauk is a great dad.”

Kingsley looked over to him, smiling crookedly, “I bet. He was always running around after me and Luce, making sure we didn’t get into trouble...well, as much trouble, I guess. Hey! Have you heard from Lucy lately, Moll? I haven’t spoken to him even longer than I hadn’t spoken to you.”

Molly tensed instantly at the question, jaw growing taut like a bowstring, his quietly simmering frustration igniting into full blown, barely concealed fury.

“I don’t speak to Lucien,” was all he said, voice tight and tense and, above all, final.

Even Kingsley seemed to pick up on that, backpedalling quickly, “Sure, sure...so where are these sprogs of yours, then? I’m so excited to meet them...”

“Yasha offered to take them for a few hours after I realised we had our unexpected guest,” Molly bit off the end of the sentence sharply, clearly struggling to maintain his control. He shook his head tightly, standing up and sighing, “Excuse me…”

Kingsley opened his mouth to speak but closed it again, finally falling silent as he watched his brother disappear in a swirl of his coat. Caleb didn’t hesitate, getting to his feet and moving after him, throwing Kingsley an apologetic glance.

“I’ll just, uh...see what he needs.”

Kingsley just nodded, flashing him a quick smile that didn’t quite shine as bright as his other ones, then just staring into his drink. Frumpkin jumped up next to him, eyeing him suspiciously.

In the kitchen, Caleb found Molly with his head in his hands, in the middle of a long, deep breath. Caleb tried to remember everything his husband did for him when he got overwhelmed, coming up behind him and gently wrapping his arms around his middle. Instantly he felt Molly lean into his touch, aching into it.

“I’m an asshole,” he heard him groan, muffled by his palms.

“You’re not,” Caleb murmured into his purple curls.

“I am,” Molly dropped his hands, “Gods, I haven’t seen my brother in years and he comes here and I didn’t even tell my husband or my kids about him, what does that make me look like to him? To you?”

Caleb shrugged, “It was a bit of a surprise...um, why didn’t you tell us? Just out of curiosity…”

Molly turned in his arms, pressing his face to the curve of his neck, having to bend as Caleb was just a little shorter than him. It was long enough that Caleb had accepted he wasn’t ready to talk about it, content just to hold him and let it pass, but then he felt him murmur.

“I hardly ever see him. He’s a pirate with the Revelry, he’s always off sailing somewhere and...and I try, I used to try but he never replies and I’d spend ninety percent of the time having no clue where he was before he’d just pop up suddenly and I’d have to bend my life around him for however long he’d stay and then have him just run off again…”

“And...Lucien?” Caleb asked hesitantly, “He’s your brother too?”

Molly moved back, eyes suddenly solid and serious, “Caleb, I need you to promise me, if you ever hear anything from Lucien, if you ever see him or he contacts you, you ignore him completely and you come straight to tell me. Don’t let him get anywhere near the kids, don’t listen to a word he says, just ignore him and find me. Understand?”

Caleb swallowed hard, more than a little taken aback, he’d never seen Molly like this, “I promise.”

At that, Molly relaxed a little, “He just...he’s not a good man, Caleb. He’s in deep with this cult shit, just...we’re having nothing to do with him anymore.”

Caleb nodded but a question was pressing irritatingly at the base of his tongue, wanting to push forward, as much as he worried it would upset Molly. His husband noticed, reading his face as easily as he ever had, a tired but fond smile chasing the last of the severity off his face.

“Go on then,” he prompted gently, “Ask me.”

Caleb almost groaned in relief as he nearly blurted, “How do you know they’re your brothers?”

Molly gave a rough laugh, “You mean aside from the obvious, that they look enough like me that you sucked Kingsely’s face thinking it was mine?”

Caleb’s face went up like flashpaper as he started to splutter, “It was an accident!”

Molly grinned, looking a little more like himself, putting a gentle hand on his cheek, “I get it, babe, don’t worry, I’ll take an IOU...but I get what you mean. You’re right, I don’t actually remember growing up with them, I don’t remember actually being their brother. And that’s kind of why it kind of hurts having him around, honestly.”

Caleb nodded sympathetically, “So they just sort of showed up after you woke up again?”

“Yeah,” Molly huffed out a laugh that didn’t have much humour in it, “Imagine you’re just walking down the street one day and some guy with your own face runs up to you and hugs you so hard it knocks you off your feet.”

“I can see how that would be...disconcerting?”

“Somewhat,” Molly sighed, moving to look at his reflection in the microwave door, trying to sort out the mess he’d made of his makeup, “Kingsley just...he’s a sweet enough guy even if he is a flit but...when he looks at me he sees this big brother he thought he’d lost, someone who apparently looked after him and ran around after him and held things together for him. Someone I absolutely am not. And he can’t seem to get it through his skull that I can’t be that person.”

Caleb gently but firmly stepped in front of Molly, taking his hands in his own. He didn’t seem to realise how badly they were shaking.

Molly gripped his fingers tightly, like he was holding on for dear life, like he hadn’t even realised how deep the water around him was until Caleb reached out.

“Honestly,” his voice was a shaky exhale, “I’m kind of glad he doesn’t stick around. He’d realise his brother’s gone for good.”

Caleb took a moment to consider his words, wanting desperately to say the right thing, willing his brain to kick into gear and let him help.

“Maybe if he met you now he’d realise he liked the brother he has?” he murmured gently, running his thumbs soothingly across Molly’s knuckles, “I am biased but I think you’re pretty fantastic.”

Molly smiled softly, leaning forward until he was resting his forehead on Caleb’s, “Thanks…”

“I don’t think you need to pretend to be anyone else,” Caleb promised, shifting slightly so he could press his lips to his forehead. It wasn’t quite the kiss he was imagining but he could tell it made Molly feel better and that was all that mattered.

Maybe so he couldn’t lose his nerve, Molly quickly returned the favour with a gentle kiss to the cheek and moved back into the living room. Caleb decided it was best to give them a moment, making a cup of tea of his own. He lingered over it, holding the warmth between his hands, watching the light outside of their small window turn from the full, deep orange of sunset to a cool blue.

Only then did he pad into the living room, not entirely sure what he was going to find. Of course he trusted Mollymauk but still, it wouldn’t hurt to be a little prepared to break up a fight. He mentally catalogued the components in his pockets, just in case.

But when he stuck his head around the corner, there were no flying feathers or drawn swords. The two Tealeafs were sat on the sofa together, Kingsley in the middle of another ramble, hands moving through the air as he gestured widley. Molly had an expression of bemusement and vague surprise.

“-and I was thinking I could show them how to tie knots, I swear man, you don’t even know how many godsdamned knots there are,” Kingsley was saying, eyes alight with excitement, “And maybe, if it was okay with you and Red obviously, I could take em out on the ship sometime! Just a little day trip and you guys could come too, there’s a place where you can always see dolphins and there’s seals and I even saw a whale once! Kids would be into that, right? Kids like animals, don’t they?”

For the first time, Kingsley looked something other than blithely amused. For the first time, a kind of hopeless uncertainty edged into his eyes.

Molly clearly caught it, something in him softening, “You...you really want to spend time with my kids?”

“Of course I do!” Kingsley blinked, “I mean, okay, I’ve not been the best brother on the planet but I’m an uncle now. Like, I’m someone’s actual uncle! That’s the most incredible thing and I just really want to do a good job at it. I want them to like me.”

For a moment, Molly looked startled, like he hadn’t expected him to say that. But once it had sunken in, his face cracked into a smile.

“I’ll be honest, Kingsley, I don’t think you’re going to have to work that hard to get them to like you. You’ll see.”

Kingsley looked like that was the nicest thing anyone had ever said to him, his face lighting up like the dawn.

“And look,” Molly shrugged, “You’re not a shitty brother or anything just...just call more, damn it.”

“Okay, I promise,” Kingsley was back to laughing, looking like he was a second away from pouncing on Molly and hugging him, “I mean, I'm gonna be checking in with my little niece and nephew all the time, right?”

“Yeah,” Molly grinned back at him, “I guess you will.”

For all the broken teeth, they really did have the exact same smile.

Caleb leaned against the doorway, eyes warm as he watched them, as he watched Kingsely loudly announce that he’d even brought a present for his new family members before pulling an entire cutlass out of a holster neither of them had noticed under his coat, as he watched Molly choke down a laugh and start to explain why, as cool as they’d find it, a pirate sword really wasn’t an appropriate gift for two toddlers.

None of this had been on his list. But there was something to be said for surprises.

[tick-fic-nick]

What are friends for?

SPOILERS FOR C2 E141!!!!

Summary: Essek has a bad dream, but he also has friends who take care of him

Warnings: tickling, nightmare stuff, angst

The true fight had begun.

Everything went tense.

His mind swirled with different possibilities, different options, and different endings.

The city was beneath them, and it all had happened so fast. Each of his new allies falling unconscious or worse. Caleb under a fallen building, or whatever it was. He pulled him out, willing it to happen.

When he looked up again, the final blow had been dealt, and.... it was over.

He looked around and his friends who most of which were looking worse for ware... but still standing.

After that, his mind was muddled, feeling the effects of the battle they barely won.

Lucien mangled body lay on the ground, ripped down the middle. The living surrounded him, in a puddle of the their own tears, and Esseks too. He felt his face for wet finding a small stream trickling down his face. He pulled away his finger from his face looking at the red that laced his index.

Shocked he brought his other hand up to his face, the same red coming back. He looked back up to where his friends were, only to see them all laying motionless on the ground in front of them, taking a step back instinctually.

A hand arose from the flesh, grabbing his leg and pulling him down into the city. He could feel himself sinking deeper and deeper. His arms trying to pull at the flesh, but could never grab hold. The ground came up to meet his shoulders.

But then everything stopped.

He was stuck. And it was getting tighter. His chest compressed slowly. Tunnel vision appeared into his periphery. But voice spoke out, and walked toward him.

"Thelyss, don't think you'll get away that easy"

The familiar Zemnian voice crept under his skin. Not the one he'd come accustomed to over the last week. The one he'd try to separate away from. A horrible, wicked man that came closer into view.

Trent. He felt his face contort from panic, to blood curdling fear.

"Why the long face? Wait, don't tell me," the noise from the boot got louder before he felt the bottom of it pressed against his cheek. The force of the boot made him ache.

"You let yourself become weak with these fools," he took a beat to laugh "well don't worry. There's a special place to watch their execution."

Essek tried to scream but nothing came out of his mouth. He tried to do anything, but each movement seemed to sink him further into the ground. But anywhere was better than with him. So he struggled and struggled, only sinking more and more until he completely submerged into the city.

-------------------------------------------------------

Jester and caleb had volunteered to take watch for the first couple hours that night. Sure, they were at the Clay's temple of the Wildmother, but after Trent attacked them, they made sure to keep a close watch at night.

Rain softly drizzled down, tapping the windows and thatch roof, causing for most, a sound sleep. Though Caleb noticed Essek in his trace, to have scrunched his brow. Tapping Jester, he then pointed at their drow friend who hovered off the ground, not but a couple feet away.

Jester leaned over and whispered "maybe he's dreaming"

"I'm not sure... he could be"

"He's probably having freaky dream sex, right now" She winked

"Probably... but if he's not having a good time, then we should wake him, ya?"

"But aren't you supposed to like, not wake up someone who's have freaky kinky dream sex?"

"No, that's for sleep walking."

Jester scoots closer to caleb "Cay-Leb! Who do you think he's having süper freaky kinky dream sex with?" She pokes him repeatedly into his side for playful emphasis.

He bats at her hands, with a slight smile at his lips "shh! Don't get too loud, and im not talking about this with you" He continues to watch Essek, even through Jesters inappropriate questions.

The drow in question, twitches. Once, twice, five times, and curls into himself slightly. After a few seconds his hovering stops, falling slowly to the ground. But still siting up in his trance. Caleb grabs Jesters hands lightly and holds them causing her to quiet slightly, just enough to hear a almost silent squeak that comes from the drow in question.

Caleb's face had recognition on it before he quietly whispered to Jester who had the same look grace her features "he's having a bad dream."

They both stood and walked to Essek, flanking him on either side. When they both got situated, almost about ready to wake him, his eyes shot open. A gasp and a sob found it way into his throat, and his arms hugged his middle.

Jester found herself scooting closer putting an arm behind his back, and he other arm onto of his knee. "Essek!" She whispered "Essek are you alright?"

He looked to her a little shaken, and realized the wet on his face. He chose not to wipe it. "Y-yes Jester. It is alright, im fine, just a little bad dream, no cause for alarm." He finally looked towards caleb.

"Stange..." started Caleb "I didn't know drow could dream, let alone have nightmares"

"...yes, normally we don't, however, if we are tired enough in our nightly trance we can slip into sleep and thats is when we dream."

There was a slight silence. Jester started to run her hand across his shoulders and upper back. "Well do you want to talk about it?"

The thought crossed his mind but he couldn't bother them with this. They had already helped him so much. "Ah, no Jester. That won't be necessary..." He couldn't help but Glace slightly at the figure in the corner with the permanent bindings.

Feeling a third hand on him he looked at Caleb who had a put on hand on his shoulder. "Well you know, Thelyss... you need to learn how to relax."

A small tired chuckle escaped Essek "Yes, it is something that I've found I need to work on."

Jester spoke up in a quiet genuine voice "I can help you right now, only if you want to."

Normally, he wouldn't say yes, normally he wouldn't let people this close into his bubble and normally he wouldn't let people see him so vulnerable. However, he could trust these people. These people were his friends who only wanted the best for him. Would it be rude to say no? He took a breathe and looked between them both before saying "I suppose... if you are offering."

Jester's concern, turned into a wide smile squeezing him slightly. She scooted away "ok, so my Mama would do this with me whenever I had a bad dream. Now lay down right here." She patted on her thigh.

He begrudgingly followed her command, slightly embarrassed. Facing away from her, he lay curled onto his side, with her thigh as his pillow. "Is... is this what I am supposed to do?"

"You perfect! Now I'm going to rub your back, is that okay?"

"...yes"

"Ok" her fingers gently began to glide on Esseks upper back, sometimes using her nails. However he didn't relax into her touch, quite the opposite. The muscles she barely touched would twitch under her. "Essek you need to relax"

His voice peaked through shaking slightly. "ssorry Jester, it uh... just tickles is all." At his admittance, Jester saw the skin around his cheeks become a darker shade, without light she couldn't see the color but she already knew he was blushing.

"Essek~ you never told us you were ticklish" her fingers now more deliberately searched for sensitive skin, not enough to make him laugh, but just to keep him tittering. She needed to relax him after all.

"J-Jester! Plehease ihi" He kept his plea quiet and soft, but his body shook slightly. His neck scrunched up and a smile plastered onto his face. His hand brought up to hold his mouth shut, to not wake the others.

Caleb spoke up "Mr. Thelyss, it'd be better for you if you just relaxed, she's not going to wake everyone up just to tickles you to bits"

Just as the muscles in his neck and shoulders loosened, he felt something begin to trace around his ear. Squeaky quiet giggles escaped him as his upper body balled up. "Nonononoho! Eheheh ehe jeeheehsteher! Please!" His hands came up to bat at what he thought was her other hand but was the tip of her tail.

Jester immediately stopped tracing, both with her hand and tail, instead rubbed away the tickly feeling, almost massaged. His muscles instinctually softened as his giggles murmured down. "Sorry essek I didn't know your ears were that ticklish"

Butterflies swirled in his stomach making him shiver, from her accidentally tease. "It is alright Jester." He sat up from his position composing himself and not making eye contact with her or caleb (though he wouldn't see him anyway.) He felt more heavy than he did before. "It seems that your..." He paused looking for the right words "peculiar method for relaxation has worked"

"Sorry that it was too tickly, oh and don't worry we won't tell anyone that your like süper ticklish Essek"

He just blushed with a nod, hoping that she was telling the truth "Well I will try and find rest then." Before he could stand up he felt a hand on his forearm. His eyes landing on Caleb.

"I know that sleep is most restful when surrounded by friends" he then felt Jester put her hand on his mid back.

"Yeah, essek stay here with us"

Looking between them, he sighed slightly "alright" settling back down, he took up his trance position, this time not floating.

Slowly falling into trance. This time however no nightmares.

He awoke a couple hours later, most of his friends still asleep. One of which Caleb was leaning against him. Jester had found her place against Fjord, who was in fact awake. Along with Caduceus. It's was nice. Peaceful even.

This next week wouldn't be too bad he thought.

-------------------------------------------------------

Finally did it!

(Authors note, I forgot that elves/drow don't sleep but I kinda made it work out in the end, also I tried to make caleb as awkward as possible so I hope I succeeded.)

[shewillreadyou]

Me before You: Chapter 2- For Real

As always. I hope that you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing.

A/N: This is a TRR AU. Liam is already married, but see’s Riley and wants his cake. If the readers are receptive this might turn into more than a mini series.

Disclaimers: Most characters are property of Pixelberry

Warnings: Language, adult content, mild sexual innuendo. 

Word Count: 2458

Catch up: Haven’t met you Yet

Prompts: @theworldofprompts​ 

“Name one thing you regret in life?”  

“Well, for starters, I married you.” will appear in BOLD.

Pairings: Drake & Riley

Song inspiration: For Real- Amel Larrieux

Be Kind: Hit the heart button, leave a comment or reblog. It makes a writer so so happy. 

“I now pronounce you man and wife. You may salute your bride.”

Savannah and her groom shared a modest kiss. 

“It is my pleasure to present to you for the very first time the Duke and Duchess of Ramsford. Bertrand and Savannah Beaumont of Cordonia.”

“Cordonia?” Riley whispered to herself.

“So I’m not crazy. Drake said he is from Cordonia. The Liam look-alike could really be King Liam of Cordonia. The matron of honor could actually be Queen Carsyn. This is insane.” 

Her thoughts raced as she tried to make connections. 

“There will be a cocktail hour in the barn,” an older woman announced.

The barn was decorated in a rustic theme, Tim McGraw’s, “I like it, I love it” played in the background and there were servers with appetizers everywhere. Quickly, lines formed for the open bars. Mack held on to Riley’s arm as they waited.

“So let me get this straight? The guy you met in New York, was Drake? Drake Walker? Like Savannah’s brother Drake? No fucking way. The world is not that small.”

“Yeah, apparently it is, he is the man I saw at the airport, the guy from the bar, the guy I’ve been texting and now he’s here.”

“Sounds like fate.”

“I don’t know if I believe in fate. More like dumb luck.”

“Miss Riley?” a server interrupts their conversation. 

“For you and your guest.”

He offers a whiskey sour and an old fashion, the signature drink to she and Mack.

“Compliments of Mr. Walker. My name is Caleb, I have been personally assigned to you for the duration of the evening. You don’t need to wait in lines. I can bring you whatever you need to eat or drink.”

“Wow, well thank you Caleb. That’s very thoughtful.” 

She tries to tip Caleb and he refuses. 

“No thank you Ma’am. Mr. Walker has already compensated me handsomely. Please let me know if there is anything else I can get for you.”

Later

The wedding party joins the guests in the barn before the bride and groom have their first dance. Riley watched from her assigned seat wondering who would end up seated next to her. The seat went empty for the first part of the afternoon. 

“That was a beautiful ceremony. You know, I have seen pictures and heard tons of stories about Drake from Savannah, but he has really grown up. He is a hottie.”

“He’s ok.”

“Wow, just ok? Huh? I’m wounded.” he says in a raspy voice. 

“Drake!”

Mack and Riley blush furiously.

“Raye. It’s good to see you again.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” she smirked.

“Sorry! Drake, this is Mackenzie, Mack this is Savannah’s brother Drake.”  

“Don’t listen to her. She was definitely pleasantly surprised,” Mack said as she extended her hand for Drake to kiss. 

Riley elbowed Mack and Drake laughed as he shook her hand. 

“Good thing I get the honor of keeping you company tonight. My seat was moved next to yours.”

He smiled and Riley’s heart melted just a little bit more. He leaned over to hug her and she immediately flashed back to their dance on the rooftop. 

After their first dance, all the guests were invited to the dance floor. “At Last” by Etta James started to play.

“May I have this dance? And please don’t tell me that your feet still hurt.”

She stood, unsure of what to do in the presence of royalty.

“Your Majesty, we have to stop meeting this way. Shouldn’t you be dancing with your Queen?”

Before he could answer, Drake slipped up behind Riley snaking his strong arm around her waist. Pulling her into his embrace.

“Beat it Li!”

“Miss me yet?” 

“Perfect timing. Small world. You didn’t say that your Mom and sister lived so close to me.”

“I didn’t think it was pertinent information at the time,” he said as he led her in a slow dance. Riley watched Queen Carsyn over Drakes shoulder, as she shot daggers at King Liam. 

“Is he always like that?”

“What?”

“Liam? Is he always so tactless?”

“I’m not at liberty to comment,” he chuckles.

“Question asked, question answered.”

“Enough about Liam. Have I mentioned how stunning you look?”

“No, but thanks for the compliment anyway.”

She smiled, getting lost in his eyes as they swayed to the music.  

After sitting and watching Drake and Riley dance and flirt for hours Mack was about ready to go.

“Ri, I’m about ready to head out.”

“Riley reluctantly said her goodbyes to Drake, not knowing when she’d see him again. 

After a short drive back to her place they arrived to see a red Jeep sitting idle in front of her door waiting. Riley looked at Mack and shrugged her shoulders. When she had said goodnight to her friend, she headed to the door. The window of the Jeep lowered, “Hey, could you tell me where to get something good to eat in this neighborhood?” 

“Drake! What-- how did you know where I lived?”

“Guestbook.”

“Well, that isn’t creepy at all.” 

“I’m hungry and thought you might be hungry too.” 

“So, where to?”

“I don’t know, I have only been here a few weeks.”

“I know a place.”

Drake gets out of the truck and walks around waving at Mack, who is still watching from her car. He opens the door for Riley and grabs her by the waist helping her into the truck.

“Really? Such a gentleman.”

He smiles as he heads back around. Mack lowers her window and says, “I took a picture of your license plates just in case she doesn’t make it back.”

“Noted.”

“Thank you. So where are we going?”

“Whataburger. I can’t get that in Cordonia.”

“What the what?”

“You’ll love it, promise and it’s on me. Seat belt.”

“Let me ask you a question?”

“Just one?”

“God no, I have a million questions.”

“Ok, I will try my best to answer them.”

She thinks of what she wants to ask first.

“What did you honestly think when you saw me today?”

“That I am not this lucky.”

A blush crept across her face as she awkwardly shifted in the seat.

“Why do you live in Cordonia if your Mom and Sister are here?”

“Work is there. Besides, I have never had a good reason to come back.”

“I see.”

 Her face betrayed her, she was feeling conflicted and defeated and it showed. They drove along the dark road quietly for a few minutes.

“So, uh, you must do important work in Cordonia for you to stay there instead of here with your family.”

“If you want to know what I do for a living Raye, just ask.”

“You told me not to and I respect your wishes.”

“Well, some would consider it important. My family won’t be here for long, Sav and my nephew are moving to Cordonia this week. I’m the lead for the King’s Guard.”

“You mean you protect Liam?”

“Yeah,” he says as he rubs the back of his neck.

Just then they pulled into the parking lot. The line in the drive thru was long so they headed inside. He held the door open for her and when they stood in front of the counter he stood directly behind her as they both looked up at the menu. He rubbed his hands up and down her arms when he noticed her shiver. 

“Cold?”

“Yeah, a little. Also, overwhelmed with this menu. Order for me?”

A mischievous grin crept across his face as he placed his suit coat around her shoulders. 

After an hour of probing conversation, many laughs, and eating a deliciously greasy burger, heavenly fries with as Drake called it “fancy fucking ketchup,” they headed back to her place. 

“Drake, I’m not ready for tonight to end,” she confessed.

“I know the feeling.”

“Come upstairs with me?”

“Riley Elizabeth Raye! What kind of guy do you think I am?”

“The kind who steals people’s personal information out of wedding guest books.” 

“Checkmate.”

“Besides, I have had these shoes on since this morning. My feet! Anyway, we can watch a movie and chat for a little while.”

“I have been told I give a mean foot massage.”

“Are you offering?”

He licks his lips and bites his lips. Her center twitched.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what? Why are you looking at me like you want to climb in my lap?

Her cheeks flushed red.

“You wish.”

“Enough about that, let’s talk about our first real date.”

“Who said I wanted to date a guy with no real reason to come to Dallas?”

“Whoa, that was before.”

They headed up to her apartment. He stood so close to her in the elevator that she could feel his body heat. They had a staring contest that she lost. She definitely looked away first. It was like he was staring into her soul. The sexual tension was thick and she felt relieved when the elevator dinged and the doors slid open. 

“Long distance dating is not exactly something I want to pursue.”

“Understandable. I’m here now. Let me take you out tomorrow.”

“What would that look like?”

“Dallas Jazz fest is tomorrow.”

“And you just happened to know that off the top of your head?”

“I might have done some research on my phone when I learned that a certain lady whom I’d like to impress was within my grasp.”

She chortled, “you like jazz?”

“No, but if I get to spend time with you it can’t be that bad.”

“You’d do that for me?”

They step inside her place and he makes a face. 

“What is it?”

“Your place smells exactly like I expected, fruity.”

She invites Drake to sit as she kicks her shoes off. She moves around the counter and opens the fridge grabbing a couple bottles of water, a bottle of Glenmorangie, and a couple glasses. 

“Raye, this is the good stuff. It’s really expensive. Sure you’re sharing?”

“Completely, pour me one too? Be right back,” she says as she headed into her bedroom to change and freshen up.

When she returned, Drake cleared his throat at the sight of her barely there clothing change. 

They settled on the soft couch as Drake passed her the tumbler of whiskey he poured for her. She eyed the drink as he stared at her. 

“What are you looking at?”

“Your umm, outfit? Comfy?”

“Yes. Very. Should I drink this? I didn’t see you pour it.”

“Good grief, switch with me.” Drake says before raising his glass.

“Cheers, to the best reason I ever had to come back to the States.”

She bit her lip trying to contain her smile.

“Well then, after a toast like that you get to pick the movie.”

She later regretted being so generous. Drake chose FACE OFF. They started off good, he pulled her aching feet into his lap and rubbed them until she was sure she would orgasm. She pulled away crossing her legs in a twisted attempt to save her panties. 

She loved the movie but knew she couldn’t get through any of the scenes when they ran their hands down the others face to wordlessly say, I love you. So as much as she tried she sat with tears running down her face for much of the movie. The first time she cried Drake pretended to ignore it. She wiped her face on her. The next time she cried he looked at her with a raised eyebrow and the final time he pulled her into his arms and wiped her tears.

“You definitely get to pick a movie that won’t make you cry next time.”

“Next time? You really want to go out with me, huh?”

“I thought that was clear by now.”

  “Drake, can I be honest?”

“I’d prefer it.”

“I have never dated a white guy before.”

He feigned shock. Then laughed. 

“We have that in common because I haven't either. Is that all?”

“No, I didn’t expect to like you this much.”

“Have you dated a black woman before?”

“No.”

“Are you ready for family and friends to turn their backs on you? For strangers to shoot us dirty looks in public? For all of the things that come along with dating me?”

“I guess I never really thought about it. But I’d like to think that it would be a small price to pay to be with you.”

 They chatted until they both fell asleep. The sunrise plucked him from his slumber. She had fallen asleep in his arms. He watched her for a few moments fighting the urge to kiss her. He untangled himself from her and used her restroom. When he returned, she was awake. 

“I thought you finally came to your senses and left.”

“I don’t scare easily. I’m headed back to the ranch. I’ll pick you up around 6pm.”

She stood and they shared a long embrace as she secretly sniffed him trying to memorize his smell before she let him out.

Back at the ranch

“You stayed out all night. Did you get some trim?”

“No.”

Figures. You wouldn’t know what to do with all that ass anyway.

“And you do?” Carsyn interjects.

“Carsyn, I didn’t realize you were back from your morning run.”

“I knew that you wanted to fuck her. I saw the way you were looking at her at the wedding.”

Drake stands, “This seems like a personal conversation. Call me later Li.”

Liam shakes his head and turns to his wife. 

“You are always making a big deal out of nothing. I have given you everything. You knew who I was before you married Me. You are the queen. Why are you so insecure?”

Tears filled her eyes. 

“Name one thing you regret in life?”  “Well, for starters, I married you.”

Liam stormed out of the room to find Drake in the hall on the phone with Riley. When Drake sees Liam he ends the call.

“Drake Walker. Your nose is open. I know you think you like her but, do you really want to start seeing a black woman? They can be a lot.”

“Don’t be an ass Li, any woman can be a lot. But it’s different with her. She is so chill. Like it’s easy with her.” 

“If it’s so easy, why didn’t you close?”

“I said that it’s easy to be with her. Not that she was easy you, prick.”

“Just be careful Drake. You know what they say… Once you go black…”

“Li! For fucks sake.”

“I’m just saying. I’m going out tonight so if you need a trial run Carsyn will be here alone.”

“Did you just give me permission to fuck your wife?”

“Sure, everyone knows I’m not.”

“Hard pass.”

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