#other favourite moment was beau and caleb showing up of course but i already made a post about that lol

[piratespencil]

Ok other favourite moments from this ep:

- Imogen’s reaction to getting a reprieve from the voices when she wears the circlet… She has been in pain for so long and she finally gets to experience a break from that and Laura played that moment so well, I felt it in my soul.

- Orym hugging Fearne’s legs when they were saying goodbye on the airship and Fearne telling him not to do anything stupid… 🥺 God everything about that goodbye moment hurt. I’m so scared that we’re gonna lose someone during the solstice…

- Fearne and Ashton having a MOMENT… Ashton going in for a hug just to steal something from her, then asking for something precious and irreplaceable and getting a kiss, his quiet little “well shit, that won’t be easy to steal back”… THEY’RE FUCKING CUTE, 10/10 Callowmoore moment.

- Sam’s passion for wanting to pilot that robot Voltron-style. I hope FCG gets to pilot a giant robot body, they deserve it.

[pixieposts]

Dice Prompt 33: Ew that is so sappy I just might vomit

Want some self-indulgent fluff with a side of my secret addiction to poetry?  Cause that’s what you’re getting.  

AO3  

“You know you could just talk to him”

“I have no idea what you mean, I am reading”  

“No Cay, you’re holding a book up and occasionally glancing at it” Beauregard flicked his cheek, her voice rising as she continued to speak “in between staring at Fj—”  

“Shh!” Caleb glared, cutting her off “okay okay I was looking, I was not staring, please keep it down”  

She sighed, but the smirk on her face told him that it was sarcastic.  

“Some sister you are”  

“This is literally exactly what sisters are supposed to do, who even reads at a party?  Do you want me to talk to him for you?”  

“Absolutely not”

She bumped her shoulder into his suddenly, throwing him off balance and sending his book sliding across the old hardwood floors.  He cursed, shoving her back and standing up as she laughed, eyes locked on his errant book.  

As he caught up to it and stooped down, it was swiped from the floor by a large green hand.  Caleb swallowed and stood slowly, feeling his cheeks heat as he looked up into Fjords smiling face.  

“Beau messin’ with your books again?”  

“You could say that, ja”  

Fjord flipped the book open, and the heat in Caleb’s cheeks turned fierce, spreading to his ears and neck.  Fjord read with a curious look on his face, amber eyes trailing across the page.

“I never saw you as the poetry type” Darrows voice teased from as he walked up “Pablo Neruda?”  

Fjord smiled and shrugged “it’s not mine, but I like it” he turned back to Caleb “you highlighted this one, a favourite?”  

“I--well in a way, yes... I only read it this morn--”  

“Bitter love, a violet with its crown of thorns in a thicket of spiky passions, spear of sorrow, corolla of rage: how did you come to conquer my soul? What brought you?”

Caleb tried not to shiver as Fjord read, his low, smooth voice doing the words a service that Caleb felt his own never could.  He made the almost-anger that Caleb had associated with the sonnet soften into something so much more vulnerable, almost sweet.  Fjord smiled and held out the book, still open to the page he had been reading from.  Caleb took it slowly, a jolt like lighting going through him as their fingers brushed, and he could almost convince himself he saw a similar expression flash over Fjord's face.  He held the book to his chest, taking a steadying breath and mentally cursing Beauregard.  

“Th-thank y--” “Do you have any other favourites?”  

They blinked at each other for a moment, then Fjord chuckled and shrugged.

“Sorry, I just figured if you’ve been reading it, you might have some favourites?”  

“I... do not usually read them out loud, I likely would not do it justice”  

“Well” Fjord’s smiled softened “I won’t force you, of course...”  

Caleb felt the familiar flutter in his chest when Fjord’s eyes found his again, and he opened the book instinctively, flipping through the pages.  

“I loved you without knowing I did; I searched to remember you I broke into houses to steal your likeness, Though I already knew what you were like.  And, Suddenly, When you were there with me I touched you, and my life stopped.”  

He stopped reading, realizing with a sudden jolt that the room had gone quiet and the weight of many eyes was on him.  He looked around in horror, seeing that yes, in fact, this was his worse nightmare.  Everyone was staring, Beauregard’s expression dropped from good-natured teasing to guilty horror as she caught his eye.  He looked up and met Fjord’s amber eyes, a look of shock on his face.  

He dropped the book and ran.  

He ran all the way out the door of the old duplex, down the three blocks to the nearly identical one he shared with Beauregard and Jester, and up the stairs.  He fumbled with the key, collapsing against the inside of the door the second it was closed.  He panted, chest heaving and lungs on fire as he tried to calm himself enough to get up without falling.  His legs ached, his head ached, his chest ached.  He absolutely could not ever go back there, in fact, he should probably just start packing now.  He couldn’t face them again, not Beauregard or Jester, and definitely not Fjord.  

Eventually, he dragged himself up and into the shower, pulled on his most comfortable pajamas, locked his bedroom door and burrowed down into his bed.  

Maybe he could just hide out in here forever.  

---

He did hide, for a good three days in fact.  He managed to sneak food into his mini-fridge while the others were sleeping off the hangovers from the night before and knew his housemates well enough to know when he was safe to use the bathroom without running into them.  Beauregard knocked at one point, speaking in the tone closest to kindness, telling him that everyone got so drunk they wouldn’t even remember (“and it wasn’t even so bad anyway man, you’re good at reading out loud and stuff!”).  He elected to ignore her.  

Jester slid pictures under his door, a couple from her instant camera that showed the three of them at the beginning of the Cursed Evening, and one that she had drawn for him.  It was pretty, and abstract piece with almost floral patterns hidden in the colours.  He hung it up... but still did not speak.  

He checked his socials almost obsessively, looking for any mention of his social faux pas.    

Being one of the awkward quiet kids paid off sometimes, it looked like Beauregard was right about everyone forgetting.

By the end of the fourth day, he felt nearly ready to face the world again.  In an effort to test the waters he crept out of his cave that evening and threw together an easy dinner of pasta with meat sauce.  Half because he was sick of cold food, and half because it was something that both women would be distracted enough by to only tease him for a little while.  Just as he was setting the table he heard the tell-tale sound of keys in the lock.  He turned and pinned on a sheepish smile as the door opened.  

Jester walked in laughing, but her eyes went huge when she caught sight of him standing there.  

“Uhhmmm...”  

Before she could explain, Beauregard walked through the door... followed by Fjord.  

They all paused, staring at him as he stared back, feeling the colour drain from his face.  He cleared his throat, setting down the last plate.

“Hallo.”

“Hey Cay” “Hi Caleeeb”  

He looked at Fjord, whose cheeks had gone a ruddier shade of green, as he coughed.  

“I um... I have extra, if you want to stay”

“No, I—well actually that would be—that is...” Fjord stumbled over his words before setting down his bag and pulling out Caleb's book “I came to give you this, and maybe talk to you?  If you want I mean”  

“Oh” his instinct to be polite kicked in as he nodded towards the living room “ja sure, do you want to-?”  

“Yeah, yeah that works”  

He heard the shuffle of the girls tossing their jackets and shoes and making their way to the table, and his nerves ramped up.  They would definitely be eavesdropped, but there really wasn’t anywhere else to go in the house at the moment.  He stopped in the middle of the living room, wishing absently that he had tidied up more today.   There was a moment of mildly uncomfortable silence, before Fjord stepped closer to him, a sheepish look on his face.  

“So... I wanted to return your book” he reached and rubbed the back of his head with one hand, the nervous tick was endearing and Caleb felt his expression soften “I also... well, I wanted to—want to apologize, for what happened”  

“Apologize?”  

“Yeah, I kinda pushed you into reading, and I shouldn’t have, it was shitty of me when I knew you’d probably be uncomfortable” he looked down, face dark again “You just have a great voice, I wanted to—well, it doesn’t matter, it was shitty”  

“Oh” Caleb blinked in confusion “Well, thank you?  You did not need to apologize; I do not blame you for it.” he paused, the rest of Fjord’s statement settling in his brain “you... like my voice?”  

“Yeah” Fjord looked up, a tentative smile on his face “it’s nice, I like your accent.  Why do you think I started going to those books and wine things Jester set up?”  

“Oh” Caleb repeated, feeling like more of an idiot every time he said it “I-I never thought about it, well, no, I did think about it but I thought you were into Jest--” he bit his tongue, trying to stop the waterfall of stupidity that seemed intent on flowing from his mouth.  

“You thought I liked...Jester?”  

“Yes?”  

“No”

“Oh”  

They stood and stared at each other for a moment, Fjord's expression softening to a fond smile.  He stepped farther into Caleb’s space, holding up the book slightly.  

“You’re smart Cay, really smart, but I think you maybe missed a few points here”  

“Explain them to me?”  

“I started going to the wine nights because I liked listening to you talk, I asked you about your books, and your cat, and I wanted to hear you read the poem at the party because I like your voice.  I like you darlin’, not Jes”  

“You like... oh”  

“There you go” Fjord flipped the book open, revealing a scrap of paper being used as a bookmark “you missed part of the poem you know”  

Joy soared in Caleb's chest as the understanding that not only did Fjord like his voice, but he also liked him settled there.  It filled him with a new kind of warmth, and sent a bright smile across his face.  

“I know, tell me anyway?”  

“When you were there with me I touched you, and my life stopped: You stood before me, ruling me.  And you reign:   Like a wildfire in the forest, and the flame is your dominion”

He reached out as he spoke, capturing a lock of Caleb's hair between his fingers.  The red of his hair only looked more vibrate against the rich green of Fjords skin.  A wildfire among the trees.  

Caleb blushed, pulling his eyes from where Fjord held him to catch his gaze instead, and found him staring back.  As they stared, Beauregard's voice rang out from the adjoining kitchen:  

“Ew, that is so sappy I just might vomit.”

Caleb caught the mischievous glint in Fjord's eye only a moment too late.  

“If you didn’t like that, you’ll hate this”  

And then Fjord was kissing him, soft, almost chaste really, but with one hand in Caleb’s hair and one still trapped between them holding the book... it was perfect.  

[mollymauk-teafleak]

You’ll Get Yours

Please leave a comment on Ao3 if you like it!

Thanks to @spiky-lesbian and @minky-for-short

Molly is now the proud owner of Summer's Dance. And the person who gave it to him deserves a reward.

--------

Molly wasn’t used to holding himself still but he made an effort now.

So much of his life so far, what little of it there had been, had depended on his knowledge of other people, his ability to know them quickly and make predictions about their behaviour. In fairness, this was hardly a life or death situation, there was very little at stake from his point of view. A bit of embarrassment, maybe. Having to eat a fair amount of crow for Yasha.

The tension he felt as he held very still under the thin, slightly damp covers was for someone else. That was something relatively new to Mollymauk; having a dry mouth and rapid heartbeat on account of someone else’s feelings.

He tried not to think about what that might mean.

His ears picked up, hearing footsteps passing the door to his room. Hard footsteps, almost angry but with a quality that suggested they could quickly become silent if they needed to. Beau. Not long after, lighter ones with a gait to them almost like skipping. Jester. Scrabbling ones, skittish and rapid. Nott. Molly listened carefully, hoping in silence. And finally, all three sets fell silent at the same time, muffled behind a creaking door not too far away. Yasha’s most familiar footfalls came soon after, going the other way down the hall.

Molly grinned. He didn’t know what Caleb had said to Nott, to get her to room with the girls. He’d thrown him a quick, exasperated look across the table when he’d grabbed the ‘feeling sick and needing to go lie down’ excuse first. That was Caleb’s go to. But Molly felt this whole thing would soon become less fun if they didn’t challenge themselves.

Soon there came heavy footfalls, easy and rolling. Fjord. This bit would be slightly tricky but Molly felt some confidence. Fjord seemed to have taken their trip into the swamp harder than the others, likely something to do with the gemstone eye.

Something about that whole episode worried Molly, a feeling he was certain the others shared. But that would have to come later.

Molly stayed with the covers pulled high over his head, as the door to their room creaked in protest at being opened. Fjord’s breathing seemed a little heavy as he moved around a little, tossing armour to the floor with a leather and metal thump, hanging his sword up on the wall. It wasn’t long before there came the heavy material sigh of him nearly collapsing into bed.

A little more anxiousness for his roommate plucked at Molly but he waved it away. Now wasn’t the time.

While he was waiting for Fjord’s snores- Molly held a lot of pity for whoever had to share close quarters with him on that ship of his- there came the last set of footsteps he’d been waiting for.

They were quiet, like everything else about him, trying hard not to be noticed. As quiet as the four other little feet that followed on his heels, along with the sound of a fluffy tail sweeping the dusty boards.

It may have been Molly’s imagination, but he couldn’t help but notice the slight hesitation in those footsteps outside his door. Just one missed beat. Almost as if Caleb was hesitating, looking towards their room, before moving on to his own.

Thinking about him? Wanting him, enough to resent even the short amount of time between this moment and the one where Molly would steal into his sheets?

He bit his lip under his nest of covers. He didn’t know what he was supposed to want.

Eventually, that hacking snoring he’d actually come to find kind of comforting started up from the bed across the room. Molly counted another two minutes, feeling them stretch on for a minor eternity, before he felt safe enough to carefully fold back his blanket and stand. Nothing from the lump of scratchy wool in the other bed. He’d mapped out where the noisy floorboards were on his way in and knew how to step lightly and avoid them.

Still, he didn’t relax until the door softly closed and the sound of Fjord sleeping was dampened to nothing. Molly allowed himself a triumphant little smile then, happy to know his talent for sneaking out to go meet lovers wasn’t diminishing with time.

He counted the doors on his fingers as he quickly crossed the corridor, making doubly sure he was about to open the right one. He’d have a lot of explaining to do if it wasn’t.

Molly checked that the belt around him was secure, that the magnificent golden scimitar rested just so against his bare leg, the metal cold enough on his naked skin to start getting him a little excited. He felt like a character in one of those trashy romances Jester was getting such a taste for. And, of course, he loved it.

After a soft rapping of his knuckles against the wood, Molly turned the knob and slipped inside. Immediately he felt the lovely prickle of Caleb’s eyes on him and when he turned, they were so satisfyingly wide, stunned and hungry.

“I said you’d be getting yours, Mr Caleb,” he purred, voice low and smoky, “Ready to have it?”

“Fucking hell,” came the raspy reply, the accent heavy in his sleepy, distracted state.

“Looks good, doesn’t it?” Molly let the gorgeous golden sword swing at his side as he steps languidly towards him, aware of some other things swinging too. He prayed it looked sexy rather than ridiculous, “Thank you for it…”

“It just seemed meant for you, Molly,” Caleb’s cheeks turned bright red in that adorable way they always did and he shuffled under the blanket, the one Molly was itching to rip away and find him naked under.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Molly admonished, close enough to raise his leg on the bedpost and lean against it which, of course he did, “Don’t think you can so casually call me Mr Mollymauk and think that isn’t getting brought into our bedroom, love.”

A giggle burst out of Caleb, lighting up his face, “Okay. Mr Mollymauk.”

Yep. It still gave Molly the same wanting lurch in the very pit of his stomach, same as back in the cave.

“You look like a pirate,” Caleb was still giggling, looking like he didn’t quite know where to put himself with all of the energy inside him.

Molly grinned, his teeth flashing. He drew the sword in one hand, letting it flash and sing through the air before coming to rest at a very safe, playful distance from Caleb’s face.

“Oh? And who are you, the treasure I’ve come to carry off at swordpoint?” he murmured, eyes glowing like embers.

Caleb looked like he was going to struggle to form words until he managed to choke out, “I’d like that.”

Molly nodded, some curls falling artfully in his face, making sure to still show his teeth and keep up this character he’d stumbled into, “Then on your back. Legs up,” he let his smirk billow out, “Surrender.”

The noise Caleb made was heaven itself. It made the newly acquired Moonweaver symbol around his neck feel warmer than any metal had a right to.

The sword, the beautiful, wonderful sword, was cast aside with half a thought. Caleb’s thighs and what was between them proved much more interesting. Molly bent down between them, breath hot against skin which soon flushed accordingly, as if the red blush that spread there was actually his breath etched onto the inside of Caleb’s leg.

Sex with Caleb was always different, each and every time. Sometimes he would be tense and it would be Molly’s task to undo the knots inside him with his tongue, his hands, his cock. Sometimes he would be whimpery and wanting, unable to find words but showing in other ways how desperately he wanted to be made to come over and over until he was boneless and blissed. Sometimes he would giggle a lot as if amused by his own responsiveness, his body’s own hunger, utterly bemused.

Sometimes Molly would draw back and find Caleb crying. It had terrified him at first but when he’d asked if he should stop, Caleb had looked and sounded as if his heart might break if he did.

It was always different but every time Molly would get the strong sense that everything Caleb hid so carefully behind his deadpan voice, his guarded nature, even his enormous, patched coat, was all coming out in one desperate release.

And Molly would take it all ravenously. There was something so thrilling about seeing sides of Caleb that no one else did, like every time they fucked he was being given secrets along with the touches and tastes and screams. And Molly positively adored secrets.

Tonight, Caleb was unrestrained and noisy. Molly’s breath had barely kissed the skin between the base of his cock and his ass and already he was audibly keening, shaking all over.

“Easy,” Molly soothed, realising very quickly that his task tonight would be to relax him, give him a way to shut out everything clanging and jangling inside him, “I’m here, love, it’s alright. Just focus on right now, yes?”

Caleb gave a tight, rapid nod. He would get there.

Satisfied, Molly rested on his stomach and stroked Caleb’s leg with one hand, “Well, prepare to be boarded, Mr Caleb.”

That got a groaning laugh out of him, “Gods above, Mollymauk…”

Cackling at his own ridiculousness- his favourite pastime- Molly leaned in and lost himself. He ran his tongue in a broad stripe across Caleb’s perineum, tasting the heady muskiness of the wizard’s skin, a taste he’d so quickly become addicted to. He was rewarded with a whimper, a sound like Caleb was about to burst, so he saw no reason to wait. His mouth wandered down, to where he grew tighter, warmer, tongue pressing gently for entrance.

Shuddering and keening, Caleb yielded to him eagerly, allowing the tip of his tongue to press inside and seek out the bundle of nerves he knew would very quickly get them where they needed to go. As his mouth worked, Molly’s hands lightly skated up and down Caleb’s legs, anchoring him, keeping him in the here and now. Every so often, he’d let his nails bite in a little, just to feel him jump and hear him groan.

Soon, Caleb was utterly lost, riding Molly’s mouth in earnest, making the headboard thump rhythmically against the wall. The tempo picked up pace, gradually getting faster and more frantic, as the flush spread to Caleb’s chest and soon he was cursing in his own harsh language, muscles tensing for a new reason.

Molly knew how to read the signs, even as drunk as he was on Caleb’s body. And just before his wizard would be in real danger of tipping over the edge, he drew his tongue back and pulled away, panting.

Caleb positively howled, “Molly!” He threw himself into a sitting position, eyes wide and wet, pleading.

Molly laughed gently, “Come on, Caleb, it’s okay. I just want to switch it up is all. You’ll get yours, I promised, didn’t I?”

Caleb relaxed a little, “You promised…”

This was Caleb on the very edge, short sentences, repetition, a thicker accent.

“I did and I never let you down,” Molly nodded, horns jangling, “Now keep your voice down before Nott hears and thinks I’m murdering you.”

He didn’t think it was possible for Caleb to go redder than he already was but he was wrong.

Molly soothed him further with a lingering kiss while he lined their bodies up, now aware of his own need, so strong it was a shade away from painful. He could feel Caleb in a similar state, hard, hot muscle pressing against his lower belly. Kissing wasn’t something they’d done a lot of since they started sleeping together but whenever they did, Molly could never figure out why. Kissing Caleb was deliriously good, feeling his stubble scraping against his chin, his quickened pulse in his throat.

He would always remember why later, when he felt the pang, the one that accompanied the realisation that kissing was too close to something like a relationship. But in the moment, it was always so good.

Caleb always kept a vial of oil in one of his many pockets these days and he summoned it to his fingers from across the room with a mumbled word. It always amused Molly greatly, to see him using his brilliant, hard won magics just so he could get fucked faster. This one was teardrop shaped, wrought in red glass and the liquid inside smelled like spiced cherries when Molly yanked the stopper out with his teeth and let it drip onto his fingers. He’d never concerned himself much with how his lube actually smelled but he knew Caleb got hooked on certain scents, the same way he did with certain textures. Molly wondered if anyone else in the Nein knew that Caleb kept scraps of velvet or polished chunks of sea glass in his pockets, not for any spell work but just to hold when he felt nervous.

“Take it your good and ready for me?” Molly purred, running his slick fingers up and down his erection.

“Thanks to you,” Caleb murmured, voice husky and low and unbearably sexy.

Molly gave a light laugh and bent to kiss him again, just because he was a glutton for punishment. But then Caleb’s legs fell open and his hips moved just so and suddenly Molly was in him, sharing his body, and nothing else mattered. Not even the thorny truth that the more they kissed, the more it felt like they were playing at something else rather than living what they had.

“Mollymauk…” Caleb gasped. The way he said his name was darling, the way the first two syllables ran into each other and the whole thing softened.

“I’ve got you,” Molly whispered back against his lips, sending the words right down his throat, “It’s all yours.”

At those words, Caleb took it. His hips fell into an easy rhythm with the tiefling’s, their bodies knowing by now how to fit and work together. The rough heels of his feet pressed into the small of Molly’s back, urging him on, locking them together like neither could bare even an inch of space between them. Molly sucked hard at Caleb’s neck in answer to every moan and whimper he was given, leaving marks he knew would be covered by the high collar of his coat but would prickle all day tomorrow and leave Caleb thinking of him.

Soon there was so much slick between them that Molly had to fight to keep on top of things, bracing his hands either side of Caleb’s head, panting heavily. Caleb’s cries grew more ragged and desperate, wavering with the force Molly was slamming into him with. All the taut, wiry muscle he used to whirl his swords fast enough to cut the air itself was focused utterly on hitting that sweet spot inside of him.

“Molly,” Caleb’s voice cracked, “I’m gonna…”

“It’s yours, love, it’s yours to take,” Molly gasped back, going slow but deep now. He drew back enough to watch Caleb’s face, wanting to memorise every flicker of muscle.

He finally came, from nothing but the pressure inside him, with a throaty groan and an expression of hard won bliss on his face. Molly was so lost in Caleb, his own orgasm gripped him and he cried out in shock more than anything. And in the last second, it became Caleb’s name.

That hadn’t happened before.

Caleb was in pieces beneath him but Molly helped him get back together, kissing his cheeks, his nose, his chest, picking up his hands and kissing every one of his knuckles.

“Look who's back,” he laughed raspily as he saw awareness dawn in those harsh blue eyes.

“Ja,” Caleb laughed back, sitting up a little and moving back so Molly could pull out, “That was pretty amazing.”

“Well, it was a pretty amazing sword,” Molly smirked, hoping that would take the edge off him saying Caleb’s name. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do with that yet.

It made his wizard laugh in any case, only making him look even more gorgeous in the rumbled, tumbled way he always looked after they fucked. Molly found himself laughing too, giving him more kisses. Each one a low grade bad idea.

While Caleb came back to himself, Molly stood completely naked in the middle of the room and practised with the sword, testing the weight of it, watching how the light played off it when he swung it. The gold wouldn’t hold up much in a fight but it was a gorgeous decorative piece.

“Summer’s Dance,” Caleb murmured, watching from the pillows, “It’s a lovely name.”

Molly nodded, holding the name in his mind. He thought of summer. He thought of warm nights, sleeping on top of his circus caravan with Yasha. He thought of the taste of that cherry wine he could only find in summer. He thought about the hot days, where Caleb would shrug off his coat when he thought no one was looking, rolling his shirt sleeves up to his elbows. When his long hair would stick to his forehead and he’d wipe it away, tuck it behind his ears and look so beautiful doing the simplest things. When he’d lie back and look at the stars and once, when Molly asked, he told him all of the constellations, so clear and bright in the darkness of the summer night.

“It is a lovely name.”

[mollymauk-teafleak]

Last Day of Widomauk Week!

Don’t know why I’m so excited, devastated its ending. Its been so much fun, I feel like a better, more accomplished writer because of this and it’s given me a wonderful sense of community. Thanks so much to @widomauk-week for organising this, its been the first collaborative fan thing I’ve ever taken part in and I loved it!

Final Day- Flowers 

---------

Molly sat on the bench outside the courthouse and enjoyed the warmth of the day. The sun was at the perfect height in the sky, perfect and bright as a newly minted gold piece. Rain was on the way to judge by the heavy grey clouds gathering just behind the skyscrapers and the scent in the gathering wind, though Molly didn’t mind that so much. Rain was good. Rain made the grass smell nice and the leaves look sugared and the lamps and headlights come alive and start to dance. Evening rain was the best of all, when you could lie in the dark between waking and sleeping and hear it rap on the windows. It was already late afternoon. Sun in the afternoon, rain in the evening, that was a perfect kind of day.

A perfect day to get married.

They hadn’t intended for it to be today of course. They were still in that uncommitted, airy phase of having no date and no venue but definitely having the intention. But honestly, the thought of facing all of the planning and spending and stress just to throw a party didn’t appeal to either of them.

So when Caleb had murmured, half asleep, face half pressed into Mollymauk’s chest, that he wanted to marry him that day, that very minute if possible, the tiefling had laughed. And he’d said, “Okay.”

And here they were.

The only thing Mollymauk owned that was white was a crop top with a wildly inappropriate slogan on it and Caleb own anything even remotely suit adjacent. But why get married dressed as other people? No temple, no church, no fancy shindig meant they had no expectations. They were just themselves. Mollymauk and Caleb making another of the impulsive, fun decisions that had worked out so well for them before. He was wearing his ever present coat, loving how it’s thread work caught the sun, tight black jeans with artful rips that he’d put in himself, a t-shirt from one of his own gigs. Might as well promote himself a little, surely he was allowed to do that on his own wedding day? Caleb meanwhile was once again proving that somehow plaid shirts and overwashed jeans could be made sexy as long as the right wizard was wearing them.

He’d lost sight of his husband-to-be-sometime-in-the-next-twenty-minutes-before-the-registrar’s-office-closed, after he’d sat him down and said there was something important he needed to do and he wouldn’t be too long. Molly had just smiled and obediently sat, happy to watch the city street roll by before him, enjoying the little patch of greenery in front of the courthouse, enjoying the quiet.

The quiet, of course, did not have long to live once their witnesses showed up.

“Mollymauk!” Jester hollered from the opposite end of the green, zigzagging her way across it to yank him to his feet and hug him tight. Her girlfriends followed at a much more leisurely pace.

“Hey, Jester,” Molly laughed, patting the top of her head, “Thanks for coming down.”

“I am incredibly mad at you right now,” Jester informs him, her words softened by the hug that’s still going on and on, “Your wedding would have been very fancy and very beautiful and very fun.”

“I know, dear,” Molly smiles, “We’re still gonna go party our asses off after, though, that's the best bit.”

“Want me to call the bar in advance and let them know it's going to be another night where they’ve got to deal with Caleb barfing in the jukebox?” Beau asked, already grinning at the prospect.

“Maybe married life will change him,” Molly cackles, shouldering her lightly, “You guys go inside and find out whatever forms and shit we’ve got to fill in to make us married, I’ll go track down my fiance.”

“Excellent,” Beau drawled, rolling her eyes, “Sounds like you guys really thought this through.”

Molly blew her a kiss and fluttered his fingertips, making her scrunch up her face as Jester ferried her up the steps. Yasha lingered just a bit longer, eyes soft and saying everything her mouth didn’t. When she folded Molly into a hug, he let himself feel small and safe in her arms, the way she’d always been able to make him feel, even on the days when all he’d been able to see was the endless black sink that was his past.

“Thanks, Yasha,” he murmured, patting her shoulder before moving back.

“I’m always proud of you,” she said in her soft voice before turning back up the steps to follow her girls before they left her radius of calming, rational influence and started to cause trouble, “Hold on tight to him.”

“You know I will,” Molly laughed gently, knowing exactly what she meant, “And I still want the bachelor party you were planning. Sure it was going to be a rager.”

Yasha was laughing as she walked away, making Molly smile with satisfaction. He always liked to leave her laughing.

He didn’t have to look far for Caleb. Before he’d gone a few paces, he saw him, walking quickly up the path around the green. The knees of his jeans were black with soil and there were a few twigs in his hair.

“What on earth…” Mollymauk stopped, blinking, “The hell were you doing, love?”

Caleb smiled, looking abashed. He held out his fist, revealing a hastily assembled bouquet of flowers. Clearly they’d been picked from nearby gardens and flower boxes, all the stems were different lengths and the colours clashed and a few were leaning on their neighbours, swaying on bent stalks.

“I didn’t want you to get married without flowers,” Caleb explained, “I know you love them. It’s not a nice bouquet or anything but it’s...something.”

Molly took the flowers, holding them to his chest like they were the most precious things in the world. They smelled of fresh turned earth, of new leaves, of the coming rain.

“It’s everything, Caleb,” he murmured, leaning in and kissing him softly.

The actual getting married part was fun, though the two of them kept giggling through their parts, squeezing each other’s hands and catching each other’s eyes at the wrong moments. Jester’s attempt to throw a handful of push pins in the absence of confetti was not well received.

The reception, for what it was, held at their favourite bar in town and then the nearby Waffle House when they all got hungry was even more fun. Their colourful, expansive group of friends surrounding them, the newlyweds took turns sitting in each other’s laps and kissing for inappropriately long lengths of time. Caleb managed not to disgrace himself at the bar, mostly because he spent too much time gazing at Mollymauk and forgetting to finish his drinks, though they later became possibly the first people ever to be ejected from a Waffle House for getting too handsy on one of the formica tables.

But afterwards, as Molly lay in bed while his new husband snored softly, listened to the rain hitting the window pane in its perfect, harmonious music and watched the ghosts of the droplets run over his little bouquet, stood proudly in a tumbler of water, that was the best of all.