#that moment when he sees caleb as 'softness as light' when he shared the memory with lucien--

[dent-de-leon]

animated nein trailer please come soon...I am in desperate need of seeing the widomauk forehead kisses again--

[peach-the-owl]

Cuddles

Mighty Nein & Child!Reader (Child of the Nein)

*Crawls out of the void* I still live… *drops post and crawls back into the void*

Jester

You are always eager for cuddles and Jester is just as eager to return them, sometimes the two of you smiling goofily at each other while trying to see who can squeeze the other the tightest (usually Jester wins, but you get a victory every now and again). Other times you both just snuggle together, enjoying the moment of relief from adventuring.

On days when you’re usual enthusiastic attitude is nothing but a distant memory, so to speak, is when extra special cuddles are needed the most. Jester will sit with you, slowly bringing you closer to her as a way of asking if you were okay with it. When you lean in accepting the hug she’ll pull you onto her lap and hum a tune her just like her mother used to while gently petting down your hair in a comforting way, this usually leads to you falling asleep to which Jester will give a kiss to the top of your head.

Nott/Veth

It’s not that you don’t like cuddles, it’s just you’re not used to them, especially when you first met Nott. She was very understanding of this and took the time to help ease you into the feeling. Even now after all this time you’re still slightly hesitant about it but defiantly more eager to curl up next to her for some R&R.

There are days where even though your past is behind you and you’re a brand new halfling, you still feel like that icky runt of a goblin you used to be. Veth is quick to catch you when you’re like this and jumps right into mom mode, letting you curl into her for extra comfort while she makes sure you know that despite everything she still loves you for who you are. Her comfort and reassurance always helps ease your frantic mind.

Caleb

You love hugs and cuddles, Caleb does not, or at the very least he’s not the most open to them. There were two great ways to get them from him though, the most common was to steal Frumpkin as a substitute, the cat purring and rubbing against you while you happily snuggled into his soft fur. The other way was when Caleb polymorphs into an animal, giving you the chance to still snuggle into warm and fluffy fur while also enjoying Caleb’s company (he’s also extra protective of you like this but shhh, that’s a secret 🤫).

The rare off days where you’re the one feeling down are different. At first Caleb just lets Frumpkin handle it, after all the fey cat has helped him through many tough spots. With time and the more Caleb opens up he’ll approach you himself, offering to read stories to you or use Dancing Lights as that’s your favourite spell and especially the way he shifts the glowing orbs around easily helps brighten your mood once again.

Caduceus

Who were you if not usually soft and gentle, figuratively and literally, so naturally you’re always one to enjoy a comforting cuddle and Caduceus is always happy to share a cuddle with you. You’ll sit together and lean your head against his chest, smiling up at him while he contently smiles back, most of the time you’ll have a nice warm cup of tea to go with it, just adding that much more to the comfortable atmosphere between you.

It happens more often then you’d like where your thoughts will sour your mood, locking you in the past and spiralling into what if scenarios. A gentle hand on your shoulder pulls you away from it, and a comforting squeeze fulling brings you back to reality where Caduceus is waiting with a fresh pot of chamomile tea for the both of you. You don’t say much as you sip on your beverage, you don’t have to, he understands you need that space for yourself. He’ll offer you reassurance while you snuggle into his side, wrapping his arm around you that, in a way, helps protect you from those sour thoughts coming back.

Fjord

You’re not one to jump at an opportunity for cuddles but you don’t mind them either. Fjord would argue you actually very much enjoy cuddles, but it’s usually when you’re sleepy but feel too stubborn to fall asleep right away. There are multiple times you’d force yourself to stay awake so you don’t miss something important with the Nein, only for you to curl up against Fjord and end up passing out anyways. He doesn’t mind in the slightest, he likes that you feel safe enough with him to fall asleep.

When you’re having a bad day you’re not exactly willing to say something right away, you’ve gotten better at it over time but there are still days when you just get really quiet and standoffish with everyone. Fjord will almost immediately catch on to what’s happening and check on you, if you need a bit of space but don’t want to be alone, he’ll sit with you until you’re feeling better, if you’re looking for some comfort Fjord will happily lift you into his arms and hold you in a safe and secure grip until you’re back to your usual self again.

Beau

You’re indifferent when it comes to something like cuddles, you don’t hate them but you don’t care much about them either. What you usually do is give Beau a gentle punch to her arm as a sign of affection, she’ll do the same back at ya and you both call it a day.

It’s rare but there are days were you just feel down, your mind almost forcing you to wonder if you were ever good enough for anyone, you usually try to take your mind off it by distracting yourself with training. It’s not long for Beau to notice you’re quiet and sad demeanour, she’ll get you to sit next to her when you take a quick break, wrap an arm around your shoulder and gently pull you into her side. Depending on how upset you are will depend on if you’ll get Beau to also draw small designs on your arm too, defiantly helps you feel better after some time.

Yasha

You’re not the most open to touch, maybe the occasional hug here and there but you don’t initiate it. It’s not that you don’t like them, you’re just so used to keeping your distance with people that you almost feel a bit uncomfortable with it. Yasha doesn’t mind this, of course, she’s about the same when it comes to hugs and cuddles but with time and lots of patience you’re both more open to it, you still don’t seek it out for yourself though.

More often then not you’re caught up in your thoughts, part of you wanting to seek out Yasha for a bit of comfort but the other part of you doesn’t always know how to go about it. Thankfully Yasha has become very good at reading your emotions and is understanding when you need to work things out for yourself, she knows you’ll come to her when you’re ready and even though you fumble through your words she’ll wait for you to finish explaining yourself before offering you the comfort you’re looking for.

Molly

You love cuddles, simple as that. Someone wants hug, you’re happy to offer. There are times you take a running start towards Molly, making him drop whatever he might be doing at the time to catch you when you jump at him for a quick cuddle before letting him finish what he’s doing. It never bothers him when you “sneak attack” him like that, he finds it fun and great for keeping himself aware of his surroundings, win-win all around.

The literal second your emotions get you down Molly notices, your usual upbeat attitude suddenly disappearing never sits well with him. It’s one of those rare times where the Nein, aside from Yasha, will see Molly’s softer, more caring side show itself. The normally eccentric tiefling now calmly and quietly holding you, brushing a hand through your hair to soothe away the bad thoughts that dare tired to enter your brain.

[enchantedchocolatebars]

She Would Have

This story is canon divergent. "Clara" is My Wittewife. I love her so much.🥹💕

"My love, your mother's baking is exceptionally brilliant!" Caleb told Clara, his face lighting up in delight.

The two were seen together on their couch, each enjoying a slice of goreberry and meach pie.

Sherlyn, Clara's Mother, had stopped by their cottage to deliver the dessert to them.

During her visits, she always surprised the couple with something sweet that she baked. Cookies, cakes, tarts, puddings, etc.

She loved catering to their sweet tooth.

Digging a fork into her pie, Clara lifts a piece up to her lips before placing it into her mouth.

She gives a nod at Caleb's praise.

"It sure is! My ma's the bestest baker in all of Bonesborough!" The short-haired brunette beams, chewing merrily before swallowing.

Once they were done eating, Clara sends their empty plates off to the sink using magic.

She then looks to her husband, excitement shining in her eyes as her hands were placed under her chin.

"What about your Ma? Does she like to bake?" The witch was curious to know as she knew nothing about Caleb's mother.

Caleb tensed up a bit at the question. "My mother...?" He slowly asked, his gaze going to the ground. The blonde held a lingering sadness in his brown eyes. His mother was a very sensitive subject. As memories of her played in his mind, he sighed. "Well ... she did ... at one point."

The corners of Clara's eyes creased with concern at his answer. "At one point?" she repeats, scooting closer to Caleb. A hand is placed on his shoulder. "Why did she stop?"

He let's out a second sigh. "Truth be told, my mother passed away when I was a young boy."

A small gasp. Clara could feel her heart break when she heard that. She couldn't imagine losing her mother as a little girl, but this was about Caleb.

"I'm sorry," Clara whispered, wrapping her arms around her husband. She hoped a hug would help.

After a moment, she'd go on to softly ask, "What was she like? If you're okay with sharing. If not, that's fine too." She wouldn't press if he declined.

The blonde's lips would slowly move up in a small smile, but sadness still shined in his eyes.

"She was kind and caring. Loving and sweet. Humble and patient. My mother was a devoted woman of god. A good person. She took care of everyone; me, my brother, our father before his passing. I can see why he chose to marry her. Philip and I were always so happy with her around..."

The corners of his lips moved down.

"Looking back, I know her death hurt him the most. I never saw my brother so somber before. He refused to come out of our room at one point. It's why I worry so much about him now. I know he still thinks about her..."

As Clara listened attentively, she continued to caress Caleb's back. His childhood had such a sweet start, but ended bitterly for both him and his brother. A sad smile formed on her face.

"Your ma seemed like an amazing woman," she sincerely told him, hoping her comforting words would help.

Glancing up, Caleb gave Clara a soft smile as he finally returned her hug. "She was."

"I wish I could have met her," She whispered.

"I wish you could have too," He whispered back.

"You think she would have liked me?"

Caleb paused before answering. Would his mother have liked Clara? She was a witch. A real one.

"...Perhaps not at first. In fact, I think your presence might have frightened her if the both of you met."

A look of disappointment fell on Clara's face. "Oh..."

But then a loving hand goes to caress her soft cheek.

"But, if she saw how much I cared about you and how cheerful and friendly and wonderful you were, I think she would have."

A light smile found its way back on the brunette's face as she began to get teary-eyed. "Really? You think so?"

Caleb nods, his soft smile still present.

Clara's cheeks tinted in pure delight. "That's good to know."

[roguelibrarian]

First sentences game!

tagged by @altschmerzes (thanks bro!!!)

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway.

I've decided to steal altschmerzes' idea and only use WIPs that I haven't posted because I think that's more fun. Also keep in mind, these are all unpublished WIPs, so almost none of what you're about to see has been edited.

As for tagging...hoo boy, do I even know 10 fic writers anymore who Gav didn't also tag? I'm not sure I do, so if you see this and want to participate, you can go ahead and say I tagged you.

Putting the rest of this under a cut so it doesn't eat up anyone's entire dash.

1. untitled Kept from the Light sequel/finale

Obi-Wan drained the last dregs of caf from his cup before setting it down with a heavy sigh.  Weariness tugging at his eyelids, he poured himself another cup and drained nearly half of it in one gulp.  Sleep hadn’t come back easily after he’d woken in a cold sweat from a dream about Anakin. About the massacre. It was a string of images and memories.  Caleb Dume’s terrified face as he told the Council what he’d seen.  Anakin’s eyes, wild with anger, as he fought to the bitter end against the Jedi tasked with bringing him in.  The twelve bodies laid out, awaiting their funerals.  Six of them impossibly small. Caf wasn’t going to fix this.

2. untitled main fic in my Across the Stars series, also known as the Starkiller Leia AU

Starkiller was bored. In theory, she was above things like boredom.  In theory, she spent every waking moment training, preparing for her next mission. In theory. In practice, she was kriffing bored.

3. Duel of the Dads, my "crack treated seriously" fic in which Kanan and Ezra need to team up with both Maul and Hondo and it's about as stressful as you would expect

Warmth and softness surrounded him on all sides, a cocoon of safety and love.  It felt like…home.  Smelled like it, too, now that he thought about it.  And the soft hum floating to his ears sounded almost like his parents’ voices when they were too far away for him to hear exactly what they were saying. Ezra opened his eyes, blinking in confusion as he took in his surroundings.  He was home.  This was his parents’ house, his childhood bedroom, looking exactly as it had the last morning he woke up here.  Before everything fell apart. Slowly, he stood, his throat tightening as he got a better look at the room.  Deep down, he knew this shouldn’t be possible, but for a moment, he let himself not care.  He’d thought he would never see this place again, and he was going to let himself bask in it as long as he could. No sooner had the thought entered his mind when something shifted.  The air suddenly felt colder, and the drone of his parents’ voices vanished.  There was something wrong; some sticky, clinging feeling that crawled up his spine and burrowed its way into his bones.

4. the untitled deep cover agent AU, also known as extreme gaslighting: amnesia edition

A-wing interceptors had long since become synonymous with the Rebellion.  Each and every one of them may as well have had the Starbird painted on their hulls.  Those who piloted them were feared, admired, avoided, or shot down on sight depending on the planet.  And so, as the small ship dropped out of hyperspace above Coruscant’s atmosphere, Ezra knew it wouldn’t be long before Imperial forces moved to intercept him.

5. untitled Emperor Maul AU fic

(so you know how in my "Maul finds Ezra first" AUs, Maul is raising Ezra with this idea that one day they'll defeat Palpatine? yeah, this is the AU where they actually manage to do that, leading to Maul accidentally-on-purpose ruling the galaxy.)

Ezra’s heart pounded in his throat as the lift descended.  He clung to his lightsaber so tightly that his fingers ached.  Even though his Master stood right beside him, he was alone, as if the rest of the galaxy outside his own head had just dropped away. Control your fear.  The voice in Ezra’s head was somewhere between his own and his master’s.  Ezra gripped his weapon even tighter, letting his anger well up within him and drown out the fear.  He was more than ready for this.  This was the purpose he’d been raised for.  Sidious had tortured his Master, used him, and then thrown him away.  And today, he would finally pay for it.

6. untitled Sith Sabine AU, in which Maul stays in power on Mandalore and Sabine is both Force sensitive and Maul's apprentice

Sabine’s eyes snapped open at the barely audible sound of a vent sliding open.  She stayed still, her muscles relaxed, feigning sleep.  Quiet metallic steps crawled down the wall, the pattern indicating at least six legs. All at once, the clanking of metal against stone stopped.  Still Sabine didn’t move, keeping her breath steady and even as she waited.  Any second now… There was a soft scraping noise and Sabine could sense the droid hurtling through the air toward her.

7. yet another untitled fic that I've been referring to as the Malachor AU

(this one I started writing/planning at the same time as Lost and Found. it's another AU where Maul kidnapped Ezra as a small child, but in this one Ezra and Kanan meet on Malachor)

Ezra had never felt so small in his life.  Here on Malachor, surrounded on all sides by the Force, the Temple towering above him, he was a meaningless speck in thousands of years of history and power. He wasn’t afraid.  Intimidated, maybe, but not afraid.  The knowledge that was hidden within the Temple was his birthright.  And this time, he would finally claim it.

8. another "Order 66 didn't happen" AU, in which Ezra is kidnapped by Maul as a kid, but in this one Maul doesn't kill his parents, and angst ensues

The dream had mostly faded already by the time Ezra figured out how to move.  He drew his knees up to his chest as he huddled in the corner, his stomach doing backflips.  What little he did remember made him feel like hundreds of tiny bugs were crawling across his skin. Shadows surrounding him.  Barely being able to breathe.  Struggling against something that wouldn’t let go. He stiffened, all thoughts of the dream vanishing from his mind, at the sound of footsteps in the corridor.  He shrank back into the corner as the door slid open to reveal his Master.  Ezra lowered his gaze, blinking rapidly.  Even the dim light in the corridor was nearly blinding in the complete darkness of his cell.

9. an upcoming "In the Shadows" fic, in which Kanan and Ezra finally escape the Inquisitors...by getting themselves captured by the Rebellion

He and Kanan were the only ones in the room, so Ezra let himself slouch as he leaned against the wall.  The other Inquisitors expected more decorum from him, but Kanan still let him get away with it.  Not that Ezra had much capacity to care right now.  After spending all day reaching into the minds of stormtroopers and officers, Ezra’s own head was filling with pressure and static.  Something was grating against the inside of his skin, which felt like it had been stuck onto his body all wrong.

10. the next (again, untitled) "In the Blood" fic, in which Ezra stares at that holo of himself and his parents for too long and has a small nervous breakdown

Ezra had been staring at the image so long that his eyes were starting to ache, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away.  In the holo, he and his parents all looked so happy.  So normal.  His father had no idea that the little boy in front of him wasn’t his.  That he was a monster born out of darkness.

also, I know it said 10, but I'm gonna add on an 11th one as a bonus. this is from a fic that I don't know if I'll ever post because I've been considering reworking it as original fiction but I've been kicking this idea around for like, years and I low-key really want to share it

11. untitled modern AU in which Maul is a serial killer and also Ezra's dad via kidnapping, because I am a parody of myself but I'm leaning into it now

“The body found in the Cowen Forest Preserve has now been identified as nineteen-year-old Hannah Walsh.  Police are attributing this death to the serial killer known as the Mauler, making this the killer’s twenty-seventh known victim.  The public is advised to –” Ezra slammed the button to shut off the radio.  Up until now, it had been doing its job as background noise, keeping him from getting distracted by his own thoughts.  But the news about the body found a few days ago had driven him right back to the things he wanted to avoid.

[kmackatie]

Originally asked by @jamieylnn on this post: "84, 102, or 119 for the intimacy prompts with Shadowgast". I got around to another one of them. It's less fluff and a bit more angsty, but this is where my brain went with it.

Thanks again to @mllekurtz for taking my spaghetti-thrown-at-a-wall mess and helping turn it into an actual coherent meal. <3

request a prompt here

84 - sky watching Shadowgast, post canon established relationship, canon compliant, 2108 words, cw: brief fatalistic thoughts

Caleb stepped onto the roof, hands tucked into the pockets of his linen pants, feet bare and hair untied. He found Essek in the middle of it, lying on his back and hovering a few inches off the ground, one hand held up as he seemed to map something in the stars above.

He paused, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness, taking in the sight of moonlight against Essek’s skin. The shifting, gentle light was like a caress, catching on the smattering of freckles across Essek’s cheeks, the traces of silver still lined around his eyes, and glinted off the jewellery delicately clasped to his ears. He had come out here sometime while Caleb was bathing, the bedroom empty and the open window the only indication that he hadn’t teleported away completely.

They were in Emon, Caleb visiting Allura under the pretence of collaboration in magical education when really it was an excuse for Essek to spend some time investigating some interesting dunamantic pulls he had discovered in the jungles to the south of the capital. It had been three weeks of exploring, discovering, and relaxing in the way that Essek and Caleb do, days filled with academic pursuits while taking advantage of the fact that Essek didn’t have to hide, could just be Essek. They had their Tower, though it wasn’t used much, each more content to take the time to enjoy the open air and sky above them.

But, like all things, it had to come to an end. They lingered as much as they could, on the journey back to Emon. Had slowed down the pace, spending more time in the Tower than exploring outside of it, until they couldn’t justify the delay any further and Essek teleported them back to the house they had rented.

Essek’s easy smile had become strained during their dinner, as Caleb spoke of his students and the plans he had been toying with for the next semester, answers taking longer to come when Caleb would ask for his opinion. He could recognise the signs, having seen them before, but he knew that Essek would only talk about it when he was ready to.

He stepped forward, feet scuffing intentionally against the loose dirt and pebbles. One of Essek’s ears twitched, the only indication that he had heard Caleb’s arrival. Essek continued to stare up at the sky, hand pausing in its tracing before he pulled it back. His violet eyes were shining in the low light, the stars reflected back, an endless void that Caleb could lose himself in if he looked too long.

Pausing, Caleb debated for a long moment before he eased himself down onto the ground next to Essek, groaning slightly as his muscles protested the movement. He envied Essek’s ability to hover, the rough ground was not kind on his ageing body, but it was one trick he had never quite got the hang of every time Essek had tried to teach it to him.

He stared at the skyline of Emon, Allura’s tower in the distance, a beacon on the edge of the Cloudtop district, the few lights still lit up in the houses around them. It was still, quiet, and every bit of his focus was on monitoring the small movements of the drow next to him. The stuttering rise and fall of Essek’s chest, breath ragged and uneven, hand flicking through somatic gestures and arcane runes as if by habit, all while his eyes stared at the sky above, unblinking.

It was a long moment before Essek blinked and broke the silence, his voice rough and low.

“I miss the sky. This one… this one is different. It’s not Rosohna’s sky. I did not think— I should not miss it.”

“It is not that different—”

“Except it is,” Essek cut in, voice sharp. “Rosohna’s… it isn’t a perfect match for what would be in the sky above Wildemount. It’s based off the Bright Queen’s memory of what it once was, over thousands of years ago. The sky has changed since then.”

“I wasn’t aware of that,” Caleb admitted, drawing one knee up to his chest and wrapping an arm around it, eyes still focused on Essek’s face.

“No. You had no reason to be. You weren’t there for that long… and you had more pressing concerns.”

“Fjord never did see that ceremony.”

Essek laughed hollowly. “No, he did not.”

They fell back into silence, and there was a tension there now that wasn’t there earlier. A wariness to the way Essek’s shoulders hunched ever so slightly, as if he had to brace himself for whatever was said next.

And Caleb didn’t want to ask it, didn’t want to bring it up, but he knew that if he didn’t, then this would fester and he couldn’t bear anything being a reason for Essek to stay away.

“Do you regret it?” He saw Essek flinch, a barely perceptible motion that he would have missed, hadn’t he been looking for it. He clarified, “Not… not taking it. I mean— well. Us, the Nein. We threw your plans into disarray and Jester… and me. You would not be here if not for us, you wouldn’t have had suspicion placed on you.”

“There would have been suspicion on me eventually.”

“And Shadowhand Thelyss would have had a plan for that,” he pointed out with a rueful chuckle. “Or at least, the glimmer that we saw of Shadowhand Thelyss would have, and if he was anything like Bren, well… plans upon plans.”

There was a long beat before Essek replied.

“I would not change any step that I took that led me to you—”

“I don’t doubt you on that, meine Liebe, but—”

“I don’t say that for you,” Essek snapped, holding a finger up between them while his eyes didn’t move from the sky. “Just… just let me finish.”

Caleb merely nodded, biting his lip at his instinct to respond.

“I don’t say that for you. I say it because sometimes I need to remind myself of what I have gained. I don’t… it’s not regret. Or rather, I did not know quite how much it would bite. I did not anticipate the… the vastness of it, of displacement.”

Caleb got the sense that Essek wasn’t finished, so he said nothing, just waited and watched, hands itching to reach out, to comfort and hold.

“I miss home. Not… I know I have one with you. My towers, my laboratory. I did not expect to miss it quite so much. The eternal night, the easy access… this hiding. I hate it. I hate it.”

Essek scrubbed a hand across his eyes, and Caleb’s heart ached. He knew what it was like to not be able to return to a place that he wanted to, a weight that nobody who hadn’t experienced loss understood. He lifted a hand towards Essek, but before his fingers could connect Essek flinched back, turning away from Caleb.

“Essek, Liebling.”

“No— don’t,” Essek gasped, curling in on himself. He hunched over, still somehow hovering a few inches off the floor, shoulders raised. “Don’t give me your sympathy. I bought this bed and now I have to live in it.”

Caleb could not help the way his heart clenched at that, the fondness for the jumbled saying seeping through his own pain, his own realisation that this had been brewing for far longer than he had realised. He should have seen it. Should have realised that all the times Essek snapped recently weren’t just due to the exhaustion of being in the sun, that when Essek chose to trance before Caleb had fallen asleep he did so to avoid conversation, that the times he had tracked him down to the ninth floor, the moment of vacant expression before a smile kicked in was more than just troubling thoughts. Caleb had to swallow around the lump that had formed in his own throat. There was a sudden hollowness in his stomach as he realised how much the situation was affecting Essek.

It took a moment to realise the hollow gasping sound wasn’t coming from him, that despite the swirling storm of his own emotions, his shoulders weren’t shaking and he wasn’t falling apart.

Essek was.

Essek, who had tried to hide his worries from Caleb. Essek, who had to be coaxed to state what he needed and wanted on a good day. Essek, who could command and demand his way into any room but would barely make eye contact when he truly cared about the opinion of whoever he was talking to.

This was exactly why he hadn’t said anything, why he didn’t show it. He was as bad as Caleb in his determination to carry his own burdens.

But there was something Caleb had learned, that he had an advantage on Essek in learning, and that was that burdens were immensely easier to carry when shared.

Shoving away his own guilt, carefully, ever so carefully, Caleb inched forward and placed a hand on Essek’s back. He felt Essek tense under his hand, but this time he didn’t move away. Swallowing, Caleb took that as encouragement and shifted again, hand moving across Essek’s back until his arm was wrapped around Essek’s shoulders.

“Essek.”

Essek gasped, letting out a heartbreaking sob before leaning the tiniest bit into Caleb’s grasp.

Caleb just waited. Not demanding, and not expecting, just hoping that Essek would take the comfort offered.

Slowly, Essek turned to Caleb, fraction by fraction he shifted until his shoulder was against Caleb’s chest, his forehead tucked against Caleb, and he was sobbing into Caleb’s shirt. Caleb held him, hand moving in gentle, soothing circles on his back as he murmured in Zemnian, nonsense phrases and observations about everything he loved about Essek.

When he judged that Essek may have calmed, when the sobs became sniffles and Essek stopped clutching Caleb’s clothing like he would drown without the lifeline, Caleb leaned down and pressed a kiss into Essek’s soft curls.

He gently ran a thumb under each eye, drawing away what dampness he could as shining violet eyes blinked up at him.

“I’m so—”

“Shh, Liebling, it’s okay. There is nothing to apologise for.”

Essek’s eyes closed, as he let out a shuddering breath.

“It is okay to mourn what you had, Essek. It is okay to acknowledge what you have lost, even while you acknowledge what you have gained. One doesn’t cancel out the other. Looking back… it is not a bad thing.” He was saying it as much for Essek as he was for himself. They had always been similar, had always understood each other in a way that no one else did. It could be a crutch, could be their downfall, but instead it led to a partnership that was equal, that felt so right, like it was always meant to be. He wanted to be that support for Essek, the way Essek always was for him. “When we visited Blumenthal, and I said goodbye, you stood with me. In the T-Dock even, you would have helped me, without question. You have ever since, even when all I wanted to do was rewrite time so I could step back and do it all again.”

“It is not the same.” There was little conviction in Essek’s tone, it was barely a protest.

“No, it isn’t. But what I am saying is that it is okay to have dark days, to have days where it is all too much. That is why I am here. To remind you that you can do this, Essek. That it is worth it, that you are strong enough to get through it. And on the days where you aren’t, where you need quiet and to escape, I will be here to hold you.”

“You won’t always be here, when you’re teaching and I’m off… wherever.”

“We can both teleport, distance and time are meaningless with the right determination.”

Essek half laughed and half hiccuped, an odd choked off noise that Caleb had never heard him make before. A grin started to grow across his face as Essek looked taken aback at the noise, and it was far too cute for Caleb to let it go.

He leaned forward and kissed Essek, chapped lips pressing gently against carefully looked after ones. Drawing back, Caleb presses a second kiss to the tip of Essek’s nose, another between his eyes, his forehead.

“I love you,” murmured Essek.

Caleb smiled, shifting carefully to lie back, adjusting and holding Essek to his chest as he went.

“Come. Tell me about the differences in the stars.”

[the-kaedageist]

This scene was cut from my most recent chapter of More Things in Heaven and Earth, and as it is cute and not spoilery, I thought I would post it here! You don’t really need any familiarity with that fic to enjoy this interlude, other than knowing that Caleb is currently in Guinevere’s body and Essek is in Oskar’s, and they are in Rexxentrum.

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

As they made their way back through the gate to the Shimmer Ward, Caleb shaded his eyes against the setting sun, struck by another idea. “It is nearly time for dinner,” he said, “and I know just the place, if you are interested?”

Essek nodded. Caleb began to lead him back through the streets of the Shimmer Ward, towards Soltryce and the neighborhoods that he’d frequented in his youth. Things here and there were different – it was hard to say if it was due to time’s passage or the fact that they were in another universe – but the majority of the city remained the same, and Caleb began to grow excited at the thought of sharing his favorite beer hall with Essek. Perhaps he could invite him for a dance…

They came to a stop in front of the place where the beer hall should have stood. Caleb glared with utter disdain at the upscale wine bar that had taken its place.

Essek wandered up to the window and peered inside curiously, his eyes alight. “This is where you intended to take me?” he asked with a small, pleased smile.

Caleb bit his lip, his frustration dying as quickly as it had flared up in the face of Essek’s enthusiasm. “It was intended to be a beer hall,” he said. “This was my, ah, old haunt when I was a student; it appears, in this world, that it has been gentrified. But I think you would be interested in trying it anyway?”

“I have not had as many opportunities to sample Empire wines as I would have liked,” Essek said. “Shall we?”

The wine bar that had replaced Hofbräuhaus had a cozy, dark interior lit with magical fairy lights, with a dimly lit map of the Menagerie Coast painted across the side and large, plush booths lining the walls The new ownership had retained the dance floor that featured so prominently in Caleb’s memories, but redecorated it with dark, stained wood flooring and lovely crimson curtains. Beautiful carvings of Nicodranas and other cities of the Menagerie Coast dotted the walls, and Caleb found his gaze caught by a particularly fetching relief of a very familiar building as he and Essek were led to a small, out of the way booth. The Lavish Chateau looked very similar in this world, it would seem, and he was immensely pleased to see it still existed.

They were seated in a booth that was plush beyond belief; Caleb immediately sunk into the crushed velvet of the upholstery. Across from him, Essek’s eyes crinkled into a smile as the dragonborn host left them with menus etched in a tiny, neat hand and glasses of water.

It was absurdly high class, far more than the beer hall had been. Essek looked positively delighted by every detail.

Caleb glanced down at the menu, squinting to read the details. “They have Lionett wine,” he said immediately, his eye catching on the familiar name.

Essek raised an eyebrow. “Beauregard’s family?”

“Interesting that the décor is themed after the Menagerie Coast, yet the wine is from the Empire,” Caleb observed.

A stuffy-looking waiter popped up at his elbow, surprising him. “Actually, we carry a wide variety of selections from all across the Marrow Valley, western Wynandir, and the Menagerie Coast,” the man said. He was wearing spectacles and had a neat little moustache, exactly as Caleb would have expected of such a place.

“And eastern Wynandir?” Essek asked, his expression deeply serious, which Caleb had learned was one of his tells that he was absolutely fucking with someone. “I have heard the Dynasty has many fine vintages.”

The waiter scoffed. “I’m sure they do, but you try getting those shipped into Rexxentrum with the war on. Might I suggest a bottle of ’20 Plumgroves Red? That was the year the hurricane swept through Feolinn, and only 300 bottles were ever produced. A rare delicacy, to be sure.” 

Essek’s eyes lit up.

“And undoubtably quite expensive,” Caleb said carefully, immediately knowing they didn’t have the cash for such a purchase. “I think we are looking for something more…affordable.”

The waiter didn’t even blink, reaching into his pocket and whisking out two more menus. “Here is our tasting menu, which may be more to your purse’s liking,” he said. Despite the lack of judgment in his voice, he’d lost much of his salesman’s panache with the realization that they weren’t high rollers.

Essek scanned the smaller menu. “I think perhaps we would be interested in the Feolinn sampler,” he said. He glanced up at Caleb. “If that is to your liking?”

Caleb smiled. “Anything you wish to try, my friend.” They also put in an order for a few of the small-plate dinner items in the Menagerie Coast style to be shared between them and the waiter left them to themselves, returning a few moments later with the sampler of Feolinn wines.

Essek sipped at the first offering the moment the waiter had vanished, closing his eyes while tasting it. Caleb watched, amused and just enjoying being present with him, distracting him from the events of the coming day; he could focus just on Essek, his reactions and his soft questions and his occasional smile, with soft music from the small quartet in the corner. Despite his pique at his favorite beer hall being replaced, the wine bar’s romantic atmosphere was absolutely perfect.

“How is it?” he asked as Essek sipped the first sampler once more.

He made a face. “Interesting. Drier than most Dynasty vintages, although I suppose perhaps that is the style.”

“I had no idea you were as much a wine snob as Beauregard,” Caleb said with a laugh. “Although I suppose you did bring us that expensive bottle back in Rosohna.”

 “Wine was one of the markers of status in my family,” Essek said. “I was trained to know it well.” He sampled the second option, his face much more agreeable. “This is much better,” he added.

“We shall have to bring you and Beauregard out to have wine together,” Caleb said with a small smile. “I think you will find much to speak on.”

The small plates arrived soon after, with samplings of various types of Menagerie Coast fare – richly seasoned carrots and asparagus, a delightful mix of seafoods, and some interesting spiced potato fritters. Caleb and Essek split the dishes between them, and it was quite nice to indulge in dinner, just the two of them, in a city that had once captured his heart and then broken it into a million pieces.

By the time they finished eating, Essek had already snagged the waiter for a second sampler, this time of Marrow Valley wines. Caleb could feel a pleasant tipsiness settling through him; he was used to having much more alcohol tolerance than Guinevere.

He looked over at Essek, who was critiquing his current sampler of wine with a delighted expression on his face that suggested he’d rather be nowhere else but there. Caleb couldn’t draw his eyes away. Even in a body that was not his own, in a world that was completely foreign, Essek was the brightest thing in the room.

Essek stopped speaking mid-sentence when he caught Caleb’s stare. “What?” he asked.

Caleb knew the smile that spread across his face was far too fond, but had absolutely no incentive to hide it. “It is nice, to see you so passionate.”

A flush went up the back of Essek’s neck, all the way to the tips of his ears. The small quartet in the corner struck up a new tune, soft and romantic. A few patrons from other booths began to move to the dance floor, and Caleb had the sudden impression that this was a popular date spot.

He reached over and took Essek’s hand, not sure if it was the haze of the alcohol, the rich attraction between them, or the strangeness of this world, but caught up in the magic of him all the same. It was strange, to realize that despite the revelations of the evening before, despite the coming day with all of its challenges, Caleb was happy.

[saphirered]

Drowned Sorrows (Vagrant pt2.)

Caleb settles at the table in your shared room, ink and paper ready to go to work and you grab your stuff making way to leave when Caleb stops you, stepping in your path to the door, arms crossed and eyes burning into you. You try to step around him but he just moves with you until you give up. Apparently He’s adamant on talking.

“What the hell do you want?” You roll your eyes at his childish means from preventing you from leaving the room.

“This has gone on long enough.” Caleb states.

“What has?” You play dumb and Caleb gives you a disapproving look akin to a teacher scolding a student and you could just wring the life out of him for for it. Gods, can he just leave you be?

“You know exactly what.”

“Please, by all means, enlighten me, oh grand master Widogast.” You mock and now it’s Caleb’s turn to roll his eyes. Do you have to be so annoying? Why can’t you just act like an adult?

“If you insist. Why do you run out of the room whenever I study? Why do you feel the need to cringe and cower whenever I do anything even remotely magic related?” Caleb asks as you shake your head biting your tongue. This man… This man has some guts to call you out like he has but you suppose maybe this whole thing between the two of you wouldn’t have been as much of an issue if the two of you could just talk about your issues instead of bottling it up until you burst in moments like these, usually ending in some kind of shouting match followed by the silent treatment until Nott makes you ‘kiss and make up’ like she’s your mom.

“It’s none of your business, Caleb. Now let me out.” You once again try to push past him but he doesn’t let you. “Try me, Widogast or I’ll-“ You threaten but are cut off.

“Do what? You won’t use your magic beyond rudimentary practices. What could you possibly do?” Caleb pushes. You know he’s pushing your buttons, your anger only another means to get answers for himself and you hate yourself for falling for his calculated move but you still do.

“You don’t want to find out, Widogast. It didn’t end well for the last people.” There it is. That’s what he’d been waiting for. Those words alone, that threat is not an empty one. You wouldn’t harm him, not permanently at least but there’s a truth to your words and Caleb knows his calculated move to piss you off is paying off. He’ll have to tread carefully if he wants more answers and not actually provoke your wrath.

Shit. Shit shit shit. ‘It didn’t end well for the last people’. Shit. You didn’t want those words to leave your lips at all. Ever. Stupid Caleb fucking Widogast. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. You can’t deal with this right now and try to push him out of the way but Caleb hardly budges. You half contemplate leaving through the window just to make a point but you’d rather not draw that kind of attention to yourself.

“Veiled threats and half truths. Those are a coward’s words who doesn’t intend to make true on their promises.” Oh you’re this far away from kicking his ass.

“Well it takes one to know one.” You hiss. “You might want to think twice. We still share a room and I will not hesitate to smother you with a pillow while you sleep. Now. Get. Out. Of. My. Way.” You feel a tingling in your fingertips, frustration running through your face with just a tiny hint of fear. You ball your hands into fists, your nails digging into your palms. Last thing you need is to lose control right now but Caleb doesn’t have to know that.

Caleb steps out of the way, allowing you to pass. He stares you down until you close the door behind you, sharing one last glare before you’re off doing whatever you can to not be in any proximity of that room.

————

Hours later Nott has fallen asleep at the foot of Jester’s bed, the tiefling herself curled up comfortably. Beau’s sprawled out across her own bed limbs dangling off each side as she snores. You’d fallen asleep sitting against Beau’s bed until her hand slapped you in the face rudely pulling you from your not so comfortable sleeping position. You get up and stretch your limbs, cracking your back. Hopefully Caleb will have gone to sleep himself and you’ll be able to make it to your own bed without dealing with the wizard at this late, or rather early hour.

Exiting the girls’ room you see Fjord slumped against the wall near to his room, giggles and moans coming from the room he shares with Mollymauk. This time he had the sense to bring a pillow but Fjord still looked about as comfortable as anyone could be sleeping against the wall of one of the most expensive places in all of Zadash. You contemplated waking him and telling him to take your bed instead but you don’t doubt you’ll lose your comfy bed forever if you switched roommates. Don’t want to set any precedents because in all honesty, rather him than you having to deal with the lavender tiefling living his life to the fullest. Still, you take your cloak, throwing it over the half-orc gently as you move on to your room.

You don’t see any candle light bleeding through the narrow slit beneath the door so you count yourself lucky as you quietly open the door and slide in, tiptoeing over to your bed, putting your things down and beginning to get ready to sleep. You pull the silk covers back and lay down, making yourself comfortable and close your eyes. You can still smell the scent of that fine parchment and ink. You can almost hear the phantom scribbling of a pen over that paper, dipping into the ink vial every so often to replenish. It’s pure torture. The sound needs to stop. The smell needs to go and despite you trying to use some prestidigitation to get rid of the smell, changing it to those overly fragrant flowers at the shop you passed by a few days ago, the smell is still stuck in your nostrils, the sound still trapped in your ears, the damage already done.

You turn over onto your back, pulling the pillow from beneath you and pulling it over your head, releasing a frustrated but soft muffled scream more akin to a sigh into the plush feathers. The darkness behind your eyelids doesn’t help as you feel a vision of a room creep in, one etched into your memory just as that scent and sound are. Accompanied by feelings of pain and fear, desperation and helplessness, is the feeling of being completely and utterly trapped. No matter your tossing and turning, it all remains and the walls close in, sleep couldn’t be further out of your reach. That is until the lights turn on. A gentle orange glow fills the room and you’re pulled away from your memories and back into the room you share with Caleb.

“Would you stop your tossing and turning, please.” Caleb asks groggy, the sound of moving fabrics and endless sighs having awoken him from his own sleep. Caleb turns over to see you sitting, elbows on your bent knees and head in your hands as you try to stabilise your breathing, counting under your breath like its a life line. You may not exactly be friends and quarrel more often than not, that doesn’t mean he can’t be worried for you. Something’s clearly wrong and it doesn’t take an expert to see that.

“Are you alright?” He asks carefully turning to a half seated position to get a better view of you.

“Just go back to sleep, Caleb.” You grumble not moving from your position. No quip back, no witty remark, not even actual annoyance or a half threat to let Jester draw dicks in his precious books. The position you’re in, the traits you’re displaying are also familiar to him. He’s found himself in a similar situation many times and while you may have said it before as an offence, it’s true no less; takes one to know one. You’re reliving trauma, or at least coming back from reliving a traumatic memory of some kind. Triggered by what exactly?

“I’ll go back to sleep when I’m sure I won’t be awoken again every ten minutes.” In other words; talk.

“Piss off.” You spit raising from your bed, reaching for your bag. Instead you find an orange tabby raising it’s back and hissing at you, by the command of his master no doubt. You have half the mind to pick the cat up by the scruff and toss him at the wizard but right now you just want out.

“You can’t keep running away from your problems forever.” The words hit hard. Caleb’s right but why does it sound like a statement not solely directed at you? You know exactly why. You might not exactly have had any bonding moments with Caleb and he’s been shifty about his past but you know the words of someone who tries to deny that same truth themself.

“It seems to work just perfectly for you. Hypocrite.” It sounded like a curse. Hypocrite. Caleb had known for a long time but having it thrown so bluntly at his face, it hurt. He doesn’t lash out in anger or hit back with an equally venomous retort but instead just stares at you with pity. He really does pity you. He may not know the story but he knows that pain and no one should have to endure that. Still it’s your choice to keep it to yourself. It’s your choice to keep it all bottled up and locked away. No matter what he says, or does for that matter, he can’t change your mind, or even help you despite your differences, if you don’t allow anyone in, regardless of your like, or dislike in his case, for the person. He can’t help someone who won’t help themselves. And that’s exactly what makes him the biggest hypocrite here. His pain is his punishment.

“Where are you going?” Caleb asks as you push Frumpkin aside just enough to reach for your coin pouch, the cat hissing and clawing at your hands until he falls silent again. You open the door looking back one last time.

“To find a rooftop with a good view and drown my sorrows.” You close the door behind you and do exactly that. A bottle or two of good booze acquired and a nice rooftop found. The view would have been nice weren’t it cloudy. Halfway through your first bottle the gods decided to shit in your dish by the sound of rolling thunder and rain pouring down from the skies by the buckets, drenching you to the bone in a matter of seconds. You debated going back inside but you’re stubborn and stayed on that rooftop watching the water spill over the drains until you were shaking from the cold. Maybe suffering from hypothermia isn’t worth making a statement.

[chockfullofsecrets]

Critical Role: Embarrassing and Undignified

(Read on AO3)

Rating: Gen

Summary: Caleb doesn’t smile much. It’s something he rather likes about the man, that he prefers to save his pleasure for that which is truly worth it - but there’s nothing else he can call the expression that briefly narrows those blue eyes. “Reacting like that in front of a friendly tiefling?” he says - teasing, almost, and Essek feels his stomach flip. “I am not so sure.”

Essek's time in the hot tub goes a little awry.

Wordcount: 3.3k

A/N: Fill for this anon prompt! (i’m so sorry for taking 2+ months to write this... i love Essek so much and he needs more tk content)

---

Essek is no stranger to being - unusual. He often welcomes it, really. Achieving a status such as his for the better part of a century comes with its fair share of eccentricities, his floating among them, and at this point hovering just above the rest of the Dynasty has become something of a favored routine.

And yet, it seems, the Nein have him beaten at every turn.

He had meant to take his leave directly after dinner, unsure of his place among Yasha’s solemn questions of loneliness and Beauregard’s transparent attempts to pry information from him and Jester’s threat to invoke a Zone of Truth for idle gossip -

(and the slight jealousy, he admits, if only to himself, of seeing Caleb, ambitious and focused and loved, among them - )

But. Lonely and friendless he is, as has been quite thoroughly pointed out to him through the evening, and he’s intrigued enough by the rarity of this hot tub to clamber up awkwardly onto the enclosing stone wall and dangle his feet into the water while his hosts bustle around and shuck off various pieces of clothing.

Caleb sits next to him, rolling his own pant legs crisply to the knee and lowering his feet in. “What do you think?”

He looks over - thank the Light, Caleb’s still wearing his shirt. “It’s - nice,” he says. He drags his toe through a slow stream of bubbles rising from what he assumes must be the hottest parts of the depths. “Unfamiliar, but quite impressive that you’ve constructed it on your own.”

Caleb raises an eyebrow. “The hot tub, or -” He traces a small circle with his index finger, encompassing himself and his companions. “- all of this?”

Decades of court experience well up unbidden on his tongue. “The compliment extends to you either way,” he offers smoothly.

Caleb squints at him, but before he can say anything more the rest of the Nein are joining them with pleased exclamations and a thoroughly distracting amount of splashing. Essek watches, bemused, as Jester flops in belly-first before even unbuckling the last clasp of her outergarments - she wrestles them off, finally, crumpling the dripping green cloak into a ball and flinging it away, and he winces on behalf of the fine Kryn fabric.

She looks around, eyes lighting on him, and her hands fly to her round cheeks with an excited gasp. “Essek! Your legs!”

Startled, he looks down - they seem quite normal, with his boots off and his neatly pressed trousers folded at the knee, if a little more purple than anyone else’s present. “I would prefer to keep my clothes dry, yes.”

She leans in, eyes wide. “Are they re-al?”

Light be with him - she’s hardly said anything, but he struggles not to flush under the scrutiny. “Ah, yes? Why should they not be?”

Just then, something brushes lightly over the sole of his foot - he startles, and -

His seat is well made, certainly, but not enough to stand up to the Nein’s shenanigans; as he recoils, his center of gravity shifts right off the narrow ledge and he’s tumbling backwards before he can do more than blink.

Light, if this is how he dies -

He flails for a solution - it’s been years, at least, since he’s done something so pedestrian as fall, and there are spells for this, certainly, but what he’s prepared for today is more showy fare, in case the Nein asked for a demonstration, why can’t he think -

A hand closes roughly around his bicep, then another around the opposite shoulder, and then he’s dangling from Caleb’s grip with his back nearly parallel to the floor - he reaches out too, panicked, and crumples the front of Caleb’s shirt in a death grip.

“Good reflexes,” he says, breathless. Blood pounds in his ears. Caleb stares down at him, blue eyes wide and jaw tight -

“Ooh, now kiss!” Jester hoots.

The rest of the Nein burst into laughter behind them. Caleb goes bright red and hurriedly turns away, looking over his shoulder. “One of you jokers come here and help me, please,” he chides, strained, “I am not the muscle of this group.”

The tension in Caleb’s face becomes infinitely more explicable - finally capable of rational thought, Essek flicks his fingers and casts a weight-lightening cantrip just as another strong hand latches onto his knee and bodily tows him upright. Yasha nods at him, chest completely bare, and wades back to her corner as Veth pops up from nowhere with her long ears twitching maniacally. “I’m SO sorry,” she screeches, insistent far beyond the point of sincerity. “I brushed against your feet COMPLETELY ON ACCIDENT.”

“VERY ACCIDENTAL,” Jester agrees loudly. Next to her, Fjord winces.

Veth’s voice softens, then, as she pats him gingerly on the leg. “I didn’t think you would do that - are you okay?”

“It’s all right,” he says weakly. Her ears droop in what seems to be genuine relief - it is pointless to care, perhaps, but he feels better for having reassured her.

He sucks in a solid breath for what feels like the first time in minutes and turns to Caleb to thank him. There’s still a guarding hand resting warmly against his back - and worse still, he realizes belatedly that his own hand is still fisted in the buttons of Caleb’s shirt.

He snatches it hastily away, ears burning. “Ah, my apologies. I shall pay closer attention to gravity, for the rest of the night.”

Caleb doesn’t smile much. It’s something he rather likes about the man, that he prefers to save his pleasure for that which is truly worth it - but there’s nothing else he can call the expression that briefly narrows those blue eyes. “Reacting like that in front of a friendly tiefling?” he says - teasing, almost, and Essek feels his stomach flip. “I am not so sure.”

A friendly -

Surprised, he glances over at Jester and finds her wearing a smug expression that might not be out of place on Da’leth himself, if significantly sweeter. “E-ssek,” she wheedles, wide-eyed with delight, drawing every syllable to its maximum extent. “Are your feet like, super ticklish?”

Essek blinks - ticklish? But he hasn’t - really, he can’t remember the last time he might have known. As a child, perhaps, when Verin used to tempt him into playing by tackling him straight off his feet and -

Oh. Oh, dear.

At least that particular piece of evidence is decades out of date - a poor excuse to discard it, but he’s willing to compromise in the face of Jester’s ever-sharpening grin and the traitorously pleased squirm in the pit of his own stomach. “What? No, of course not, I was merely surprised-”

“You can be surprised and ticklish,” Jester corrects, skipping forward with a splash. Essek shirks back into Caleb’s hand, millimeters from tumbling off the ledge again, and she giggles. “And I’m pret-ty sure that you’re both.”

The hot tub, for all of its excellent qualities, is unfortunately not large enough to keep her at bay for longer than that. She reaches out as he’s still deciding which direction would be the best to flee in and scoops his ankle up in a grip like steel. “Ah-” he sputters. “I - Jester, wait-”

She drags a fingernail up the arch of his foot.

It feels like one of the few times while developing a lightning-based spell that he’d electrocuted himself - but the feeling doesn’t stop, shooting up his leg and tickling at his lungs too to make them shiver, and it’s silly, and he just -

He panics, jerks back against Caleb’s hand again, and in a moment of brash stupidity the animal instinct of his brain decides that the only safe place to hide is Caleb himself. He buries his face in Caleb’s side and grabs him around the waist just in time to shriek as Jester repeats the same lazy route up and down the sole of his foot, pausing only to scratch tingling patterns into his heel. “Tickle, tickle! Aw, guys, he’s so ticklish, look at how much he’s laughing!”

The fabric of Caleb’s shirt isn’t much of a barrier to Jester’s teasing - or to his own ticklish laughter, embarrassingly high-pitched and loud in a way that makes his whole face heat with shame - but at least they can’t see him blush.

Caleb jumps a little as Essek latches onto him, but his hand stays put, stabilizing, and starts to rub gentle circles on his back as Essek dissolves into cackling at another spidering assault on his arch. “Jester, please be gentle,” he says, amused. “I am not sure that is a good idea.”

Essek’s not sure how he feels either. It’s terribly embarrassing, and undignified, and if this was happening in front of any other being in the Dynasty he would have to learn some sort of memory erasure spell, but - the Nein have never cared for his layers upon layers of decorum anyway, have they, always prying for indignation and confusion and warmth that he’s not certain he even possesses.

Caught between Jester and Caleb and a vat of hot water, with the rest of the Nein making relatively amused noises behind him, he doesn’t think he’s ever felt warmer.

Jester just laughs. “I’m barely doing anything!” she teases, shaking Essek’s leg lightly. “He’s just so sensitive - oh, Essek, is it ‘cause you never walk anywhere? Is that why your feet are so soft and tickly?”

He’s giddy, even with the sudden reprieve, giggling too hard to speak. “I - ha - I dohon’t - ehe-”

“Of course it is,” Beauregard says smugly from a distance that seems far too close, “waving all those secrets and magic over our heads and he’s hoisted on his own fuckin’ petard-”

“What’s that?” Caduceus asks. Essek vaguely remembers the term to describe some sort of bomb, but Jester chooses that moment to send her mischievous fingers exploring under his fucking toes and it tickles like absolute hell. He shrieks even louder than before, if such a thing were possible, and makes a solid attempt to burrow his way straight into Caleb’s ribcage as his entire leg jolts in involuntary protest. No amount of desperate attempts to flex or curl his foot make the sensation any more bearable - it’s like the sucking feeling of a Teleport spell, like everything inside him is unmoored and floating in a sea of mirth and the only way he can get any of it out is to scream.

His cheeks hurt and he realizes, suddenly, that he’s beaming.

Jester cackles. “Come get his other foot, Beau,” she urges, easing off to just pinch his big toe between two fingers and wiggle it. “He totally loves it, he’s not even kicking-”

“Uh-huh,” Beauregard says, and there’s another splash. “Maybe I will.”

Caleb’s still rubbing his back - he stops, briefly, and from his huddled position Essek feels that Beauregard has jostled his other side on her way past. “His feet might be worse than yours,” she murmurs. He can hear the grin in her voice. “Better hope Jes doesn’t remember and go after you next.”

“Don’t remind her,” Caleb says, strangled. It’s remarkably friendly for Beauregard, though, and Essek is once again caught up in the paradox of this little group - merciless but fiercely protective, reluctant but trusting. It’s hard to be regretful - or wistful, maybe, one of those feelings that twinges in his chest every time he thinks of the Nein nowadays - with Jester tickling her way up the back of his bare calf and cooing over the way it makes him wriggle. But his heart, a traitor to the last, manages. There are so many secrets between them still.

Beauregard seizes his other ankle, hauling it up from the water, and he realizes for one terrible moment that if they were to, say, force him out of hiding and keep tickling, he might be inclined to spill some of them. “Scoot over, Jes,” Beauregard says, and there’s a squeak that, for once in the evening, doesn’t come from him. She chuckles. “Good thing he’s not trying to tickle you back, huh?”

He expects Jester to sputter and redirect her, as he would, but she sounds entirely unconcerned at the prospect. “Oh, Beau, do you want to have a tickle fight? We totally could, after this-”

“No,” she says, not entirely drowning out the little panicked noise that Caleb makes. “Not the kind of wrestling I want to do when half of us aren’t wearing shirts, if you know what I mean-”

“Beau!” Jester shrieks, giggling. Fjord groans loudly from the other side of the hot tub, and Essek, still squirming, is very sure that he’s blushing enough for it to show on the back of his neck, under his high collar. “Who do you want to wrestle with? Is it Yasha-”

“Yeah, yeah, okay, moving on.” Beauregard interrupts hastily. There’s a popping noise that takes a second for Essek to place as her cracking her knuckles. “Hey, Essek - you think you’d trade another favor to get us to stop?”

Essek flails for something resembling a complete sentence as Jester’s fingers curl teasingly behind one of his knees. “Nngh - heh-”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” She squeezes the back of his other knee, barks out a laugh as he jumps. “Jes, stop messing around, let’s get his feet.”

That makes him kick, but at this point his entire lower half is restrained - all he can do is take one last breath before fingertips are scribbling over both his soles and he’s cackling so forcefully that his laughter peaks into agonized wheezing with each fresh gulp of air. “Hhh - ha - ahahaaaa, hA -”

Caleb shifts a little, bending until one of the strands that always hang stubbornly loose from where he ties his hair back brushes the tip of Essek’s burning ear. Essek shivers. “You can tell them to stop, you know,” he murmurs.

Essek’s almost entirely sure that he’s crying into Caleb’s shirt, tears leaking from squeezed-shut eyes as Beauregard and Jester torment his feet, but Caleb seems - fond, oddly - as he starts to rub his back again. “They’re not trying to be cruel - I believe they’re just excited that you’ve. Ah. Lowered yourself to our level, perhaps.”

And what level is that, Essek wants to ask, suddenly conjuring a mental image of Caleb in the same throes of helpless laughter. But he’s barely capable of that, as he’s currently dying, so he just tightens his grip on Caleb and shakes his head. He can barely even register Jester and Beauregard’s teasing anymore - he doesn’t think he can speak right now without embarrassing himself even more if he tried.

“Fuck, alright,” Fjord says abruptly from somewhere miles away, “I think he’s actually crying now, the Dynasty is going to have our heads if we break him.”

“He wouldn’t let them, he’s our friend,” Jester trills, but she does stop tickling, ghosting a hand up over his heaving shoulders to pat him gently on the head. “His ears are really purple though, like magenta purple, I think he’s blushing.”

For some reason - perhaps because he can finally think - it strikes him, fighting through the warm and pleasantly tingling haze of being touched and gentled back into himself, that as much as the casual label of friend pleases him he cannot afford this kind of vulnerability.

“Or suffocating,” Beauregard says a moment later, dropping his foot unceremoniously back into the water. “Thelyss? You alive in there?”

And, a beat later, when he doesn’t reply - “Are you just, like, smelling Caleb now?”

“Gross,” Veth squawks. “Get him off, get him off!”

Caleb smells quite pleasant, actually, but that’s not the point - his self-awareness is slowly trickling back in as he remembers who and where he is, and what he’s done to the Nein, and now they’ve broken him and he would rather die than look any of them in the eye for the next year.

Caleb pats his back. “Come on, friend, chin up.”

And he’s right, Essek can’t afford to cling to this veneer of comfort any longer - but to his immediate and eternal shame, he whines and nuzzles further into Caleb’s ribs. Just a moment to gather his wits, maybe, and he’ll be able to Misty Step to the front door and don his mantle-

“No? Alright, then - I’ll go to work too, if I have to.”

The hand on his back lifts away and walks itself on two prodding fingers neatly up under Essek’s arm, gently wriggling into the hollow until he can’t bear to keep his arms up any longer. “Nnn, hnn! - eheh, thahat’s - enough, please-”

It’s. It’s not, is the problem - he tries to stir up anger, distaste, but there’s only fear. He would deal with this indignity again, suffer it gladly, even, just to have them speak to him kindly. It’s new, and terrifying, and he needs to think it over alone with a generous glass of wine in his tower.

He shrinks back in on himself, still snickering at the tickling under his arms, and Caleb takes the opportunity to grab him neatly by the shoulders and sit him back up - Essek catches a glimpse of his blue eyes shining with rare merriment and promptly swivels to look away from all of them. No one stops him as he rolls his pant legs down and shoves his feet into his boots, heedless of the damp. He can feel their curious gazes prickle on the back of his neck - shifting into an unconscious competence that’s carried him through many anxieties before, he’s already floating off the ground before he can remind himself otherwise. “I’m going to go now,” he says, rushed, still too terrified to turn his head. “Thank you, I -”

“Essek, wait!” Jester says, confused, and Beau scoffs, and he’s not going to think about how he can recognize their voices without even seeing them, he’s not -

Yasha’s voice, at last, breaks through the hubbub, and it’s only in deference to their conversation before dinner that he pauses to listen.

“Hey,” she says, quiet and certain enough to shake him. “You said that you’re lonely, right?”

The noise fades away. He inches down to the ground with it. “Recently, yes,” he replies, just above a whisper, fighting to keep his voice steady with the enormity of this, this feeling -

“I didn’t say so before,” she continues, perfectly calm, “but it’s a little scary, right? To not be so lonely, anymore.”

Essek says nothing - he knows, without the mantle, that they can all see the slight tremble of his shoulders.

“Go away, then,” she says confidently, and then, hastily, “oh, no, that’s not right -”

“Yasha,��� Jester squeaks, horrified, and Essek, to his own surprise, laughs. More of a chuckle, really, but. That’s a relief, after all this.

He can place her roughly in the rightmost corner of the hot tub, turns just enough to catch her heterochromatic gaze in his periphery. Her mouth drops slightly open before she gathers herself. “I just, I meant -” She inhales nervously. “I used to leave all the time, to go do - things - and come back when I was ready. You can do that too, if you want, we won’t mind, as long as you come back. And the tickling - we’re all ticklish, you don’t have to feel bad about it - ah, maybe someone else should say something.”

Caduceus pats her shoulder. “Nah, that was pretty good.”

Essek agrees, despite his better judgment. He rolls his shoulders, forcing them loose. “No, no, that’s - helpful,” he assures, and then, taking a deep breath and praying that his cheeks have cooled, he turns to look at them all. “I am to show you my abode tomorrow, yes?”

Caleb looks extraordinarily stressed. “Ah, you don’t have to, if you would rather-”

Beau punches him in the shoulder harshly enough to make him wince. “Yes.”

“Yes, and breakfast pastries!” Jester cheers, clapping her hands together - he’ll have to talk to his staff tonight.

“Until tomorrow, then,” he says, and spares only a brief smile before casting Misty Step to take him to the door and then again to the street.

He’s not quite ready to lose all his dignity, yet.

[omniscientwreck]

With Every Single Thing I Have

Beginning note: ***MAJOR SPOILERS FOR C2 E141***

CW: Character Death, Talk of Death

This is my interpretation of the canon description of Essek and Caleb’s days with some good angst thrown right in there. I have no knowledge of what is or isn’t cannon about the afterlife in Critical Role so this may be canon divergent but I needed it to cope. I hope you enjoy! Title Is Taken From The Song Two by Sleeping At Last

Caleb Widogast is dying.

He’s old, nearly 90 years of age. His body aches with every rain, stairs become more difficult, but his casting never fades. His mind is sharp and he reads, learns, and teaches until the end comes for him. Up in his tower, exhausted and bed-ridden he hears shuffling outside the door before it opens without so much as a touch and a tray of food is brought in. Essek Thelyss glides gently into the room, “Oh good, you’re awake. I prepared a light lunch for you, would you eat?”

Nodding back at the drow, the bittersweet smile that’s become a companion to him in Essek’s presence settling again into his wrinkled features. Essek sits on the bed beside him, book in hand as he often does and the memories written all over Caleb’s face come flooding back.

They had gone back to Aeor after the business in Rexxentrum concluded. Jester had helped Caleb locate Essek and when he found out he wasn’t too late, he was still at the outpost, he’d gone almost immediately. The winter clothes they’d bought all those months ago to chase their lost friend still fit and they carried many memories in them with the promise of more to come.

Their time together in Aeor was long. They took many months scouring the ruins for every book they could find. Between his Vault of Amber and Essek’s Wristpocket as well as a borrowed bag of holding they were able to collect the knowledge of Aeor. They found every device, every tiny dunamantic stone. They went back to the machine, the one that promised Caleb his dreams, closure, a chance to atone. The one that could change Essek’s past, that would give him his freedom.

Essek gazed upon the machine and he decided to remain in hiding. He looked directly at Caleb, made the decision to live forever with the consequences of his actions, because without them they wouldn’t have this. This moment, this trip, these memories.

It is Caleb’s turn now to gaze upon his destiny. He looks into the lavender eyes boring into him with the question Will you do it? His plan is perfect, the only thing that changes is that his parents are not dead and one day maybe he can reunite with them. He can see them grown old, he can tell them everything he’s done. They can be proud of him.

His mind shifts to the Nein, to Veth, Jester. To Astrid and Eodwulf. Back to Essek. It’s impossible to know what would happen if he did this. If he’d be able to come back. Is it really worth giving up everything he knows? Potentially giving up the Mighty Nein not only for himself but for them too?

He reaches into his components bag, smears dust across his forearm and with a green ray he carves away the experiment. He destroys, permanently, any hope of ever going back, in favour of hope for the future. Essek helps him burn everything and when they’re done he can only stare at the drow. The man who’s come so far, allowed himself to be so changed by the love of friends (Caleb’s love) that he went from enemy to beloved companion. He stares and divergent futures flash before his eyes as if he’s staring deep into the Luxon. They all end the same, he dies and Essek lives on without him for many years. The change is in the times in between now and then.

He knows which one he want and if the last two months were any indication Essek had his own hopes.

A week or so later, they ate in the tower. When the Nein first separated the tower had felt empty, he usually elected to sleep in a hotel room or in the dome under the stars. With Essek it’s easier to be there. They’ve fallen into a comfortable routine while researching that involves them spending the day immersed in ancient secrets forgotten to time. They would spend hours in complete silence, reading in tandem or copying runes and arcane patterns and then one of them would find something truly tantalizing and the silence would be broken as they began theorizing. When Essek gets excited his lavender eyes brighten and his whole face lifts and it’s no secret to Caleb that his heart races and his face melts into a soft, tender expression that Essek catches and matches.

After, they’ll go into the tower and eat, served warm soups and breads by little fey cats and then they read in the study in companionable silence until they retire to separate rooms. This night, a week before their time was up, Caleb’s keen mind caught up with him. Suddenly he became very aware of the passage of time, the potential futures slipping away and he rests his spoon on the table, overwhelmed by the shrinking timeline ahead.

They talk that night, instead of reading. They sit in two armchairs in a quiet carpeted room lit by purple globules of light, gently bobbing around their heads and they talk. They talk for hours. Essek tells Caleb his sins and Caleb elaborates on his own. They talk plainly and it’s hard to do, but at some point the chairs moved closer, and then their hands touched, eventually Essek’s hands were folded into Caleb’s.

He felt closer to Essek after that. For the rest of the week it was easier to reach out and grasp his hand, to pull him into a hug. Two weeks later, they talked again and after that they kissed. Their kisses weren’t frequent but they were familiar, a warm comfort over those last weeks in Aeor.

Theirs was not a whirlwind romance. It was something more precious and much more difficult to describe. It burned slow and and steadily rose until something had to be done. They kept in close contact after Aeor, it is those letters that begin the new collection that fills Caleb’s left holster.

They visit occasionally until the burn of the eyes of the Dynasty on Essek’s back became too hot. Caleb has taken to staying in Nicodranas when he and Beauregard are taking a break from dismantling centuries old systems to weed out the rot so he asks Essek to come stay with him. Quietly, out of the eyes of the empire and most of their friends, they begin to build a life. They construct with care, laying a sturdy foundation because though they both know this arrangement is temporary they promise to always be together in one way or another; because though gravity can be altered, it always rights itself and the pull Caleb feels towards Essek, has felt for some time, is a law of his nature.

They allow themselves as long as the other will have them and they spend years together. The kisses become more frequent as they gradually abandon inhibitions. Caleb’s life is a blink compared to Essek and he becomes more aware each year of the limited time he has. He and Essek stay together in varying locations for as long as he can bear it, he realizes now that they have earned this happiness, however fleeting. It will always be a larger portion of his life than it will be of Essek’s so he holds out as long as he can. He begins to teach in this time and though Essek cannot really be free he still has his work studying their findings and occasionally he travels.

Caleb watches him advance so much in their decade together and he gets bleary eyed imagining all Essek will do when he’s gone. They learn together, share every meal, he learns Undercommon and teaches Zemnian, and they spend every possible night together in every possible way. They share a sweet and intense passion and Caleb’s love sinks deeper and deeper into his heart.

When his forehead wrinkles and his hair is greying he realizes his time is up. He has goals, he needs to teach, he needs to fully commit to being in the Empire and his short life must be spent doing as he promised all those years ago, making each place better than he found it. That is the hardest conversation he’s ever had. “I wish it were not this way. That it didn’t have to be, but I do not have as much time as you so I must burn brightly to make my impact. I will always love you Essek Thelyss.”

“And I you Caleb Widogast. When you stumbled into my life all those years ago, Empire infiltrator holding my greatest crime in your hand I had no idea what would happen. You were a variable I did not account for, could never have foreseen. Of all the possible futures in store for me this one, where I am here with you, where I have been here with you for ten years and where I will continue to be by your side thought it is not the same is the best one I could have never predicted.”

They give themselves one last year. They don’t travel, Caleb takes the year off and they spend 328 days exactly together, in bliss. They do their best not to allow the apprehension of good-bye to creep in. Caleb knows it’s not good-bye, not truly and not forever. But when the day comes though he tries to hold it back he cries bitter tears and holds Essek tight and the smaller man shakes with his own sobs. But they loved each other for eleven years, and they manage to continue loving each other for another fourty or so.

Essek leaves and travels for a while to do his own work. This is frequent in the latter half of Caleb’s life but every time he comes back and his friend brings him stories and listens to all of his own. They help each other research, Caleb still tells him everything and relishes every moment they spend together. They no longer kiss but they are still partners.

Caleb’s life has been better, more fulfilling than he could ever have hoped stumbling out of that wretched prison at the beginning of his second life. He learned peace through the Nein and later through Essek and now that he’s at the end of his time he knows he could not have lived a better life.

Caleb Widogast is old, older than he ever thought he’d be and while his bones and muscles give out and he goes to the Blooming Grove where Caduceus has always said he will end up, to spend his final months, Essek follows.

He cooks the soups the cats used to, they remember everything together, Caleb’s mind keen but Essek has kept up well. At just the right time, Caleb knows. Essek is sat beside him in the bed, the wizards reading in tandem as they’ve done before and fallen into again in this late stage. They have been kissing again, Caleb allowing this last indulgence, one last selfish act. Essek needs it too.

“Essek Thelyss, thank you for everything you’ve done for me. My constant companion, the center of my gravity. You who bent time and space for me and taught me so many things from magic to forgiveness. I have loved you all my life from the moment I could and I would never dream to change a single thing.”

“Caleb Widogast. I have treasured every moment we have spent together, you changed my life, saved a man who knew not that he was dying. I have been happy because I know you and I will continue to be happy because you will never be far from my heart.”

“Please promise to me that you will take care of the others. Allow them to care for you. Find new people and care for them and allow yourself to be cared for in return, live your life as fully as you are able, and when you are done I will see you again just as I am about to see my family.”

“I will. You have loved me all of your life and I will love you for all of mine. I will never know someone like you again. Thank you for allowing me the privilege of your companionship. It is an honor to love you and it always will be.”

The quiet conversation fades and they share one final kiss and Essek sits as Caleb drifts to sleep, gently running his fingers through his hair. Then he goes to get Caduceus. Caleb Widogast is dead.

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

Essek Thelyss is dying.

He is nearly 740 years old and he is in decline. He, like his friends before him, retires to the Blooming Grove to live out his remaining days, however many they might be. Caduceus’ kin are caring and when he shows up on their doorstep they expect him. “He told us you would arrive one day. Welcome home and thank you for being here.”

Essek’s life has been a thing of remarkable chance, nearly improbable. He has learned to manipulate as much as he can but even he could not have foreseen the path he ended up taking. He has lived so long, and his life has been full but he is tired.

Fjord had been the first of the Nein to pass. After him Caleb. After Caleb the group coalesced around him. They had never shared many details, but they seemed to know. Keeping his promise to Caleb he allowed them to care for him. To bring him food, to message him to make sure he was okay. They invited him on adventures when they needed and he never turned them down.

They continued asking him to teleport them and every single time he did. Kingsley goes next and then Beauregard. Those years are full of so much loss condensed into such a tiny portion of his existence. He isn’t used to things happening so quickly and he begins to reach out. New connections. He finds people to care for, to mentor and to bolster. He dedicates his life to using aliases to research and study and publish materials to help the mages after him and Caleb. He finds himself beseeched by parties of assholes for assistance and while he never fights alongside another group he makes himself useful in any other way in his ability.

He always imparts the lesson to leave the world better than they found it, and if they listen, if they are the same as his friends, the best people he’s ever known, the world will survive yet. There is a pause between good-byes for a number of years. Then he loses Yasha and Jester. Jester is one of the hardest, the friendly little blue tiefling with a heart for adventure who hugged him when touch had still burned. After her goes Veth and after Veth, finally Caduceus goes back to the earth.

He promised Caleb to live a full life, but every year, the anniversary of the day they met several lifetimes ago, he visits the Blooming Grove. He walks the grounds, he sits with Caleb and he tells him of his research, he reminisces and he whispers love to the flowers that grow. They are fiery orange and yellow with some deep purple and blue spattered among them. Caduceus says on his first visit that the blue ones are called forget-me-nots. Essek picks one every year and presses it into a book, like Yasha showed him once upon a time.

Caduceus and Essek drink the tea from the flowers Caleb gave them. For centuries they sat together, telling stories, having extended conversation year after year. Some years Caduceus travelled so Essek made his vigil alone, but he never forgot Caleb and he never forgot the Mighty Nein. They lived as long as he did for they were in his heart always.

The last time he visits Caleb they talk for hours. “Every good thing I have done, every positive emotion and happiness I have known in these centuries has been because of you. You allowed me to feel again and the best decision I could have ever made was letting my plan go to allow myself to grow close to you.”

He is lying beside the grave twirling a delicate blue flower between wrinkled, aching fingers. “Caleb Widowgast you have lived with me for a long while and I thank you again for the gifts you gave me while you were here. I hope you are proud of me. I love you to the end of my days my friend.”

He falls asleep then, in the night of the Blooming Grove, fireflies and an infinite expanse of stars casting gentle light across his stilling form.

As Essek Thelyss fades he finds himself again in a garden. It is brightly coloured and lush, well cared for. There is a small cottage there and as he glides to the door, drawn to it as if by gravity, it opens and he sees copper hair, vibrant blue eyes, and the widest smile he’s missed the most, “I told you my friend, we would meet again.”

“I never doubted you Caleb Widogast.”

[lovesick-feelin]

i might just keep sending these cos theres so many wonderful ones

willex, 34?

Oh my lord this got away from me I am SO sorry. (I'm not sorry, though, because I had so much fun writing this. Like, wow.) I will get to the other prompts as soon as possible but in the meantime enjoy almost 3k of literally just fluff.

This started as a cute scene in the studio and turned into a study on Willie's obsession with Alex's hands and then suddenly it was a love confession. Oops.

Prompt me! | Read on AO3

=

The first time it happens, Willie chalks it up to nerves.

Alex is new to the whole ghost thing, Willie reasons. He might not still be super comfortable phasing through doors like it’s nothing. It’s been forty years since Willie had any sort of pulse, but he knows it would be pounding right now as he puts on a casual front, swinging his arm forward and then back to grab Alex’s hand.

Alex jumps like he’s been shocked with static electricity, eyes flying down to their joined hands and then back up to Willie’s face. He doesn’t pull away, though, and the tension that appeared in his shoulders is gone as quick as it arrived, and then he smiles, so Willie knows he’s good.

They’ve hung out three or four times since they first met on Sunset Boulevard, and Willie has decided he’s starting a catalogue of Alex’s smiles; this one is new. It’s shyer than the “Grateful You’re Answering My Questions” smile Willie got on the bench, not touched with laughter like the “Oh, This One Time” smile Alex uses when he tells stories about his bandmates. This one is startled, a little awkward, but soft and open, and Willie has a good feeling in his chest that Alex doesn’t share this smile with a lot of people.

Willie knows that if he lets himself keep staring at it, though, it’ll become the “Kissed Right Off My Face” smile, so he tears his eyes away from Alex and tugs them both into the museum, never letting go of his hand.

Somehow they’ve moved from palms clasped to fingers interlocked in the five seconds before they jumped through the doors, and Willie can feel the rough drumstick calluses on Alex’s palms and fingers, some edged with torn skin and others worn to permanence with the passage of time, all now permanently affixed in whatever state they were in when Alex died. There’s a large one right on the pad of Alex’s thumb that keeps brushing over the back of Willie’s hand, smaller ones tucked into the insides of his knuckles, and Willie wants to memorize all of them, all these little reminders that Alex bled and breathed and played music and was alive.

Willie kind of wants to never let go of Alex’s hand ever, but he didn’t drag Alex to this empty museum just to be weird and hold his hand, and Willie’s already caught sight of three different potential jumps that look just sick enough to impress the cute boy to his left, so it’s with some reluctance that he releases his grip on Alex to put his helmet on and cruise the gallery.

Willie finds himself tracing the smooth lines of his own palm later, after Alex leaves, remembering how the calluses felt against his palms and the way Alex gripped his hand, hesitant at first but then with intention, like even if Willie hadn’t grabbed his hand, Alex would have wanted him to.

=

When Willie grabs Alex’s hand at the Hollywood Ghost Club to help launch him over the tables and onto the dance floor, there’s that same initial shock that flies through Alex’s body, but it’s gone too fast for Willie to even be conscious of it, swept away by the adrenaline of the music and the way Alex is smiling at him, looking alive. This is the closest Willie has to any sort of home turf in the afterlife, and Alex is here, eyes lit up under the glow of the stage lights. Willie wants to take the memory of Alex’s face when he got up to dance and etch it frame for frame in stone: Alex’s tongue pressed against the side of his cheek, the way his bandmates cheered and jostled his shoulders but Alex’s eyes stayed on Willie the entire time. Willie didn’t know his cheeks could flush anymore, doesn’t know how it’s possible, but Alex sends him reeling that way, pink and warm and like he’s glowing.

Willie squeezes their hands together briefly, finding the callus on Alex’s thumb and sweeping his touch over it quickly enough to make it seem like an accident, and he swears he hears Alex’s breath catch above the roar of the music, their eyes meeting like an electric charge.

Luke and Reggie find themselves swept away by dance partners right away, and Willie’s just summoning up the courage to grab Alex and show him all the partner dances he knows when a lifer in a steel gray ball gown asks him for directions, and Willie has to show her to the stairs. He ducks and weaves his way through the crowd, laughing with delight as he watches Maya shred on the piano, and then Caleb catches his eye with a flashing grin and jerks his thumb towards the dance floor.

And there’s Alex, being twirled around by Dante, feet flying, and his smile is wide and startled and Willie wants to be the recipient of it so bad it aches. Fuego appears out of nowhere to catch Alex by his other hand, and Willie finds himself bowled over by a wave of ice cold envy, that anyone else should be granted the privilege of Alex’s touch without earning it.

Alex catches his eye and brightens like a fucking sun, beckoning Willie onto the dance floor, but the dancers twirl everywhere and everyone wants to touch Alex and Willie is in stupid, hopeless, maybe-love after knowing this boy for two weeks and it’s all too much, threatening to knock him over, so Willie tries to salvage what’s left of his crumbling foundations and bolts.

=

Willie doesn’t get to hold his hand again until suddenly it might be for the last time ever.

Everything is too fast, too sudden, and Willie doesn’t even get the chance to stop Alex from backing away before suddenly he’s sweeping forward and clutching onto Willie’s shoulders like he’s a buoy in a violent storm. Willie’s brain catches up after a moment. He buries his face in Alex’s neck and Alex smells like springtime, peony and cucumber and rainwater, like things waking up and coming back to life. Willie holds him like a lifeline, like hope of resurrection, and tries not to think about going back to the way things were before, trying to exist around the gaping maw Alex created when he crashed into Willie’s afterlife.

When they pull apart, it's out of some kind of necessity that Willie twines their fingers together. Alex tenses but doesn’t flinch, and Willie wants to ask about it, would ask about it if they had the time they deserved, but they don’t, because the universe is cruel and Willie is selfish and unthinking and so, so in love, and so he doesn’t ask and he settles for squeezing Alex’s hand one more time, memorizing every callus as if the phantom sensation of their hands intertwined might lead him to some sort of healing.

“I’ll see you around, Hot Dog,” Willie says just to watch the blush of indignance color Alex’s cheeks one more time before he forces himself to drop Alex’s hand and skate down the block out of sight. I would have still followed you, Alex had told him on the back of that couch in the Orpheum, face open and vulnerable, the closest he’ll ever come to a confession of what lay between them, and Willie has to force himself not to look back. If Alex could take Willie’s hand and tug him to the other side of whatever limbo this is the way Willie tugged him through those museum doors, Willie would follow him too, because he’d follow Alex anywhere. It just seems like fate has other plans.

=

It turns out, Willie thinks later, standing in the late night dark of the museum with Alex’s callused hands cradling his jaw and their foreheads pressed together, bathed in an impossible golden glow, that fate might just know what she’s doing.

=

“Why do you always do that?”

“Huh?” Alex looks up from the sheet music he’s studying, something Luke had shoved into his hands as he sprinted out of the garage that was just too good for Alex not to read right now. Julie is at school and Luke is with Reggie scoping out new venues for the afternoon, so they’ve got the studio to themselves, the concrete floors bathed in sunlight that turns Alex’s floppy hair to gold. He’s wearing Willie’s favorite shirt, the olive green Bowie one, and his jacket has been abandoned to the back of a chair. Willie is definitely not ogling his arms.

Willie holds up their joined hands before letting them fall again to rest between them on the couch. “Whenever I grab your hand. You, uh, you always flinch a little.”

Alex blinks, setting the sheet music down and suddenly looking self conscious enough that Willie almost regrets saying anything. “Oh. I didn’t realize I was doing it.”

“I didn’t think you did,” Willie says easily, shifting his body to face Alex fully and tucking his feet up underneath him. “Everything okay? We don’t, um,” he continues, fumbling over his words, “if you don’t, like, like holding hands, we don’t have to --”

“No, no, no!” Alex cuts him off quickly. “I like it. Like, a lot. We don’t have to stop.”

“Oh.” Willie knows his face is as pink as Alex’s hoodie. “Good. That’s - that’s good.”

Alex shrugs. “I don’t know why I flinch. Just embarrassed, I guess.”

Here Willie has to pause. “Embarrassed?”

“I guess.”

“About what?”

Alex shrugs awkwardly, bringing his socked feet up onto the couch to hug his knees, their joined hands still tucked between them. “I’ve just always been weird about my hands,” he says, staring at his free hand, Luke’s sheet music forgotten. “I have all those ugly calluses. You know, from my drumsticks. Never liked them.”

Willie can’t help the giggle that bursts out of him, and Alex’s eyes fly to his face. “What?” he asks, mouth quirking up in what Willie’s now categorized as his “I Don’t Know What’s Going On But You’re Cute” smile, and Willie hums.

“Just ironic,” he muses, bringing Alex’s hand up to hold in both of his. “I’ve always loved your calluses.”

It’s Alex’s turn to blush. Willie earns himself a “Museum Date” smile and high-fives himself internally. “Really?” Alex asks, and Willie nods earnestly, turning Alex’s hand over to rest palm up in the cradle of his hands.

“Honestly, man? I’m, like, kind of obsessed with them.” He skims the lightest of touches over the small calluses tucked in the creases of Alex’s fingers and revels in the soft gasp Alex lets out. “Like, you loved something so much,” Willie murmurs, smoothing his thumb over a large one on Alex’s palm below his pointer finger, “that it tethered itself to your soul. Calluses are, like, proof of that passion. You were alive, and you loved this.” Willie reaches with his other hand and traces the edges of the callus on Alex’s thumb. “Even when it hurt you.”

He looks up and Alex is so still in the afternoon sunlight, like he’s suspended in amber. He’s so gorgeous it hurts. “I never thought of it like that,” Alex manages, voice hoarse, and Willie nods, suddenly finding that he can’t speak at all. He brings Alex’s hand up and presses his lips to the pad of his thumb, the seam of his mouth meeting the center of the time-hardened scar. Alex looks like he might faint.

“You really like them,” he breathes, and Willie nods again, not breaking eye contact as he moves, pressing feather-light kisses to the calluses on Alex’s fingers and palm.

“I really like you,” he answers, pulling Alex closer still to kiss the nonexistent pulse on the soft inside of Alex’s wrist. If Willie’s heart still beat it would be pounding out of his chest. Alex goes so easily, like clay in Willie’s hands, and it’s so easy for Willie to take his other hand and draw Alex’s legs out flat on the couch, all guardedness abandoned. Willie slides into his lap, knowing full well that he isn’t fooling anyone, that Alex can feel the way Willie’s breath stutters as he trails kisses to the crook of Alex’s elbow. Alex’s hand falls to the dip of Willie’s waist, the hem of the tie-dye crop slipping up so that Alex’s palm is pressed fully against the bare skin there, and it’s a crime how well it fits, like it was supposed to rest there, like nature intended it.

“I like your hands,” Willie murmurs, and he knows he couldn’t control the words spilling out of his mouth right now even if he wanted to. “I like holding them. I like the way the calluses feel on my palms.” He presses a kiss to Alex’s upper arm where the sleeve of his shirt meets skin, and when he drops it Alex’s other hand flies automatically to the small of Willie’s back, anchoring him like a magnet. Willie meets his gaze and Alex’s pupils are blown wide, eyes so blue Willie could drown in them, and his hands. Willie feels like he’s on fire everywhere Alex is touching him and somehow it isn’t enough.

“I like how steady they get when you play the drums,” Willie hums, steadying himself with two hands on Alex’s chest and dropping a kiss to his shoulder. “I like watching. I love,” and here he kisses Alex’s exposed collarbone, revels in the catch of his breath, “when you twirl your drumsticks. So easy, like you’re not even trying.”

Willie noses up and kisses the curve of Alex’s neck. Alex’s grip tightens on Willie’s waist, head tilting pliantly to the side to give him easier access. “Willie,” he breathes, but he doesn’t need to say anything else. Willie knows.

“I love it when you hold me,” he murmurs, still trailing kisses up Alex’s neck. “I love your hands on my waist, and my back, and my shoulders.” He mouths at Alex’s stupidly perfect jawline, kissing the corner. “I love your hands on my face when you kiss me.” Another kiss pressed to Alex’s cheekbone, just by his ear. “I love when they’re in my hair.”

Alex inhales sharply and then the hand on Willie’s back is skating up to thread itself in his hair, always so careful and gentle and intentional, even now, when Willie’s got him completely undone. Their foreheads are pressed together, breath mingling in the space between them, and Willie kisses Alex’s cheek again, each corner of his mouth, the lightest touch to his cupid’s bow, and the words that have sat inside of him since that day on Sunset Boulevard and maybe since the universe was created, well, they don’t seem so heavy anymore.

“I love your hands,” Willie breathes, everything around them impossibly still, “because I love you. If you can believe it.”

The shaky sigh that Alex lets out is audible, almost a cry, and then he’s kissing Willie, using the hand in his hair to guide the tilt of their heads and slotting their lips together so perfectly that Willie kind of wants to cry. He steadies himself with an arm on the back of the couch and reaches with his other hand for Alex’s arm. Without breaking the kiss Willie guides Alex’s other hand to cup his face, wrapping his own hand around Alex’s wrist and losing himself in the easy give and take of kissing this boy. This boy, who loved Willie so fiercely that he saved his soul, whose touch unravels him like spun sugar, who Willie could spend an eternity with. He will, if Alex will let him, and Willie just thinks he might.

They separate just enough to breathe, eyes closed and foreheads touching. Willie blinks his eyes open first, slowly, and the sight of Alex right there, flushed and radiant and gorgeous, is enough to knock the wind out of Willie’s lungs. He drops his hand from Alex’s wrist to reach up and brush some of the hair off of his forehead, pressing a kiss to his hairline. Alex hums, leaning into the touch, skating his thumb over Willie’s cheekbone before dropping his hand back to the dip of his waist.

“Wow,” Willie says quietly, the first to really break the silence, and Alex huffs out a quiet laugh. He runs his fingers gently through Willie’s hair all the way to the ends, lets his head flop back on the arm of the couch, blue eyes warm and his smile easy and open, and he’s the most beautiful, devastating thing Willie has ever seen.

“I love you too,” Alex says hoarsely, and then clears his throat. “By the way,” he adds, and there’s the rest of the Alex that Willie knows, always a little anxious but never unsure. Willie’s helpless to do anything but lean in and kiss him again, because he loves him. Golden, gentle, awkward, beautiful Alex, who loves Willie so intentionally, who guarded his heart so carefully even when it had already given itself away, who sees Willie for all his mistakes and jagged edges and broken parts and loves him for all of it, on purpose, but still worried over the calluses on his palms as if they made him anything less than perfect.

Alex kisses him back and Willie’s heart sings, and it feels just a little bit like forever.

[soft-for-them]

frumpkin ♡ caleb widogast x reader

Annon🪐: Hey!! I saw your post about writing for critical role and got so excited, always happy to have more writers! I'd love to see a Caleb x reader where he comforts the reader during a panic attack. I don't really have a preference as to headcanons vs one-shots, so whichever you’d prefer. Hope I didn't miss anything, thanks!

Anyone can read this, can be platonic or romantic, it’s based on my own panic attacks so sorry if it’s a bit specific, not proof read like usual.

Panic attacks have always plagued your life, it’s a thing you have unfortunately learnt to live with.

You know all the breathing exercises and mind tricks to get you out of an attack but really all you ever want when you feel the nervous feeling of panic rile up in you is a friend to talk to. For trying to stop a panic attack by yourself never truly works. You always find that stopping a panic attack by yourself makes you feel down for the rest of the day.

When you were a teenager you had ran away from your home to the circus, taken in by the half elf Gustav Fletching. For the first couple of years you helped the circus folk set up tents and decorate, then you found your love for art (no matter how good or bad you are at it).

Many years later you still helped out with the big top but you had become a portrait artist getting extra money from the patrons that came to the shows.

When you were around twenty or so you had met Mollymauk Tealeaf and Yasha Nydoorin.

The blood hunter and barbarian had always had their own ways of calming you down before you could have a full on panic attack but neither of them have ever seen you have a proper one.

Molly is always the type of person who would tell you stories to try to get you to calm down and Yasha would always try and stay near you becoming a shoulder to cry on if need be. However, none of them have ever seen you pace up and down whilst tears stream down your face and your hands shake in absolute discomfort.

No, they have never seen you fully break down.

Your panic attacks have almost disappeared since joining the Mighty Nein, since your found family has grown bigger. Yeah, you miss the carnival but you now feel like you’re doing something with your life now that you’re on this journey.

The Nein and you have all be travelling, in between quests, the canopy of the forest lighting the squiggly path to the next town. Right now you are setting up you tent that looks like a mini high top, the happy memories of your carnival days flooding your brain.

The tent is big enough for three or four people, depending on how bulky someone is. Normally it’s you, Mollymauk and Yasha snuggled in the tent much like you’re used to.

With a good meal in you and the sun setting you take the first watch, watching the orange sun blending in with purple that the night sky brings.

Soon enough Fjord taps you on your shoulder telling you softly that you watch is up.

With a soft smile you give him a small hug and a hearty goodnight, wishing him a peaceful sleep. The tall half orc only splutters out a ‘You too, goodnight (y/n).’

You have developed a soft spot for the half orc. You hug him once more him now sitting down and you bending down to do so you say your finale goodnight.

It’s a short walk to your tent, it’s very hard to miss, the patched up striped reds and pokkadot patterns stand out even in the dimming lights of the night. With a long stretch, your arms raised above your head, you walk into the tent Molly already in his corner of the tent.

‘To bed this early?’ you muse as you take off your boots and light armour.

‘Need my beauty sleep.’ He jokes sipping on a little flask presumably of some strong alcohol.

‘Well sleeping does help with beauty sleep.’ You joke back as you like down in the middle of the tent, leaving a gap to you over side for Yasha or any other person who feels like sleeping inside your tent (though it’s always been you, Molly and Yasha inside the colourful tent.)

For a while the two of you talk, mostly on the subject of setting up Yasha and Beau up like the good friends you both are but soon the talk turns to who Molly might want to set you up with.

‘You fancy someone don’t you?’ he teases knowing full well that you do have a thing for someone in the Mighty Nein.

‘Shut up Molly!’ you mutter turning away from him and snuggling into your covers.

Your try to sleep but he keeps on talking.

‘Is it… Caleb, you two share a similar quiet and shy nature, though you actually wash.’

You ignore him.

‘Or Fjord? I think he likes you and your hugs?’

You cover you head with your blanket.

‘Oh, are you into one of the lovely women of the group, Jester has been spending a lot of time around you lately?’

‘Mollymauk Tealeaf I will smother you if you don’t let me sleep!’

The purple tiefling chuckles but drops the questing, allowing you to fall asleep.

.

.

You wake up in fear, cold sweat dripping down your neck and back, the white of your shirt surly soaked. Your eyes shift around quickly to the people sleeping soundly in your tent. Molly is were he was before, deep in his beauty sleep. However, you are now sandwiched in between him and Yasha.

She must have fished her shift for she is fast asleep stealing part of your blanket.

 Your breathing is laboured and you feel weak.

‘It was only a dream (y/n).’ you try to reason with yourself, sitting up and throwing the rest of your blanket onto Yasha.

Surely you can’t wake them up now, right?

The feeling you have is panic but you aren’t in a full blow panic attack yet, Molly and Yasha know what to do to calm you down. But they are asleep and you fear that if you wake any of them that they’d be angry with you.

They certainly won’t be angry with you but your brain says untrue things to you when your panicky.

First you try some breathing exercises.

They do not work.

You then try and search around for your sketchbook. Jester had drawn a cartoon of you and her in it that automatically makes you feel happy.

You can’t find the book in the dark.

You truly don’t want to wake up Molly or Yasha, you really don’t.

So, you scramble out of your tent, no shoes or coat, you just need to get out.

The cold early morning air hits you, the sun not even up yet but the moon low in the sky.

 When you had first met the Nein you had tried to get to know everyone, despite your more introverted nature compared to the more colourful characters of the group. One night you had helped Nott pick pocket a rich man, not your greatest moment but it was very fun.

Out on that little stealing adventure Nott had said something that has stuck with you.

‘Sometimes just walking about outside calms me down, stealing helps as well.’ The stealing part might not help you but the walking part might.

With socked feet and hands stimming you begin to walk towards where you were earlier taking watch.

Molly, Yasha or Fjord won’t be there but there must be someone there to talk to before your start to cry.

The short walk towards the watch area seems like you’re walking a mile and your breaths start to become even more infrequent, you forgetting to breath out when you inhale a large breath. Tears begin to rim your eyes and your hands carry on shaking.

You’re not going to make it to whoever is on watch, you are going to break.

You stop and drop to the floor, legs crossed and hands going to you face, wiping away the now falling tears that don’t seem to stop. In this sitting down position you begin to slowly rock back and forward, tiny sobs escaping your lips.

Unknown to you the place you have decided to sit down and cry in is near enough to the person on watch that they can hear your sobs.

 Caleb stands up, looking over the camp, seeing you breaking down on the forest floor.

He has no clue what to properly do.

Normally he is alone when he had any kind of panic attack but then he realises something. The last couple of attacks he has personally had Nott was actually around to help him. Nott was always there to calm him down with cuddles and calm words.

Could he go and get Nott?

No, that would get more attention on the panicked you.

Who else helps him?

Frumpkin!

Caleb quickly summons the cat familiar and he points over to you.

‘Go over to (y/n), ya?’ the Bengal cat nudges his head into Caleb’s legs then pounces off to the crying you.

As soft lump steps into your lap and nudges to hand covered face with its soft fur.

You nervously take down a hand to see Frumpkin nudging you in the way only cats do. He pauses for a moment but proceeds to carry on nudging you when he still sees tears dripping down your face.

Your breathing hitches but there is some kind of clarity as the cat nuzzles the wetness of your cheeks almost like he’s purposely wiping away your tears.

‘…Frumpkin…’ tears well up again but not in sadness per say, it’s a combination of still being panicky but also happiness that the ginger cat is trying to calm you down.

Your arms snake around the slim cat in a small cuddle, you still rocking just a bit.

‘D-did Caleb send you?’ you whisper to the cat in your arms, knowing the answer to the question.

Once your wobbly words are spoken you look up to see a nervous looking Caleb standing near. He fidgets a bit, not looking you in the eyes, though you aren’t looking at him directly either.

‘May I sit down meine liebste?‘ he asks. All you do is nod your head.

He sits down about a body away from you but you automatically nudge up to him so your legs are touching, Frumpkin purring at the two of you.

Your breathing is still a bit funny, a breath being held in. Caleb pauses as he, his hand stops pats Frumpkin’s head.

‘Let your breath out, breath.’ you look at Caleb and try to match his breathing.

‘Thank you, Caleb.’you eventually say.

Your body is still hunched over but you have calmed down, the panic attack has passed, which is very different to normal.

‘Not need to thank me (y/n), no need to thank me.’ He takes his had off of Frumpkin’s head and pats your knee, albeit a bit awkwardly but it gets you both looking up to each other.

You give him a small smile which makes his ear turn red in a blush.

‘C-can I take watch with you for a while?’ you ask.

‘Ya, we can watch the sun rise together.’

.

.

.

i had a bit of a hard time formatting it so sorry if it looks odd.

also, please send in some more critical role requests! (do mind that i’m new to listening to campaign two.)

[dent-de-leon]

Do you think that if they had a honeymoon, would Molly and Caleb go to the Bay of Gifts or Rumblecusp?

Oh these both sound so lovely! ; ; The Bay of Gifts would be so charming and romantic--watching sunsets on the water and going for a moonlit swim. Tealeaf still somehow roping Caleb into the most fun and ridiculous pirate adventures--

But I feel like Rumblecusp would be especially endearing to everyone because of Travelercon. I like the thought that they still run the Beaurebar, and the Nein all vacation there from time to time. I imagine Caleb must have fond memories of those first nights--drinking and dancing with the rest of the party, letting himself just be free and happy--wanting to share new memories there with Molly.

Both of them sharing drinks and stories under the stars. Molly being so very excited that he gets to see a volcano for the first time--and the dinosaurs! He didn't even know those were real, and when he gets all giddy and his tail can't stop wagging, Caleb turns into a T-rex just to see the look on his face--

But I could also see the two of them just opening a map, and Molly pointing to the first place at random to catch his eye. Mollymauk being excited to go anywhere as long as it's exciting and new and the perfect place to have a little adventure with his Magic Man--

Or...maybe Caleb tells Molly his favorite fairytales on cozy winter nights--they've both always loved a good story. And perhaps one day Caleb jokes that he wouldn't mind being taken by the fae, that he's always loved stories of their magical and fantastical little world. And Mollymauk Tealeaf would absolutely not be able to resist the thought of running away into the Feywild, where everything is so delightfully strange and otherworldly and terrifyingly beautiful--

Caleb making Molly promise to stay close and not immediately go wandering off after the first thing to catch his eye--never accept food given by the fae, but also never decline gifts. Tell no one your name and don't stray from the paths Jester helped them map. Caleb trying very hard to keep a close eye on his Circus Man and ensure they both stay out of trouble, but--also being just as enthralled and captivated by this new plane to explore.

The two of them sleeping nestled together in an enchanted wood, admiring verdant gardens where the flowers sing (and shriek the most terrifying scream, much to Molly's amusement). Frumpkin curled up and purring beside them, as if he'd never left. Molly insisting he can do a good enough impression of royalty to sneak them into an Archfey's court--

And this is just a sidenote, but...I feel like, as a worshipper of the Moonweaver, Molly wouldn't have a wedding really--it's more that he'd run off and elope in secret in the middle of the night. Steal his Magician away to someplace secluded and magical, just the two of them wrapped in each other's arms, safe and sheltered beneath the Moonweaver's light. Hidden away from all the world.

Caleb admitting he wants these moments to last forever, that it's so surreal to finally have Molly back and he doesn't want to lose another moment--

Molly pressing tender kisses to his forehead, whispering soft reassurances as his Magician drifts back to sleep. Promising him that no matter what happens, he'll always find his way back. That a part of Molly would always be his--

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

That’s Christmas To Me| Julie and The Phantoms Cast

Dream-a-little-bigger-x’s Countdown to Christmas 

Day 4 

A/N: I got so excited when I saw this one was the next one I had to write! I hope you enjoy! I also wanna thank @calamitykaty​, @vicesvsvirtuesfanfic​, @vrthngiwnt​ and @bright-molina​ for letting me pick your brains and bounce some ideas off of you. I love you loads! 

Pairing: Platonic! JATP Cast x fem!reader

Summary: 2022, season 2 was about to be released on Netflix and the cast was invited to promote the show on the Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon. A dream come true. When the host asks them for their favorite holiday memory together, the cast immediately flashes back to that time at the Christmas Markets. 

Song(s) used: That’s Christmas To Me - Pentatonix | Happy Xmas (War is Over) - Echosmith ft. Hunter Hayes

Warnings: Spiked hot chocolates, but no one gets drunk and no one drinking is underage. 

Words:  3,970

Checking her outfit in the full-length mirror once again, y/n sighed nervously. All dressed out to the max for her very first talk show. Her styling team had outdone themselves once again. The gold flared pants, the white satin button down shirt and the white heels just made her feel so fabulous. 

Though she couldn’t deny the fact that she was nervous. She was going on a live show, not any live show, but the Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon, nonetheless. Her family watched that show religiously every single night. That thought did not calm her down either. 

A soft knock made her snap out of her thoughts and turn around to find Madison in the doorway with an excited smile on her face. “You look gorgeous!” she exclaimed excitedly and ran up to her newest best friend, engulfing her into a tight hug. 

She was sporting a gray glittery jumpsuit with black pumps strapped on her feet, her makeup done beautifully and her natural curls flowing over her shoulders with bejeweled clips pulling it out of her face. 

“So do you!” y/n retorted with the brightest smile she could muster, though Madison could see right through her and squeezed her hands reassuringly. “My heart is thumping.” The words came out in a whisper as though she was telling a secret. 

“So is mine, but we can do this. We got each other, okay?” 

Y/N and Madison had gotten along straight away the first day y/n came to set. It was nerve-wracking to weasel yourself into a tight group of cast members who’ve already spent two years working together, but they made it so agreeable. The first day, Madison and Owen came up to her and started bombarding her with so many questions about herself and her character. All she knew about the latter was that she’d be Reggie’s love interest and the villain’s niece who worked for him to try and get Reggie, Luke and Alex into his club. Which of course, would not work out as y/n’s character would fall for the bassist too. 

The entire cast welcomed her into their group straight away and the whole process became so enjoyable to the point where it just didn’t feel like work anymore. It just felt like spending time with friends and trying to memorize words and songs at the same time. It was weird. But so much fun. And now, they were able to finally promote said season. 

“Madison, y/n, time to go,” one of the show runners said to them when he passed y/n’s dressing room. The two girls nodded and after a simultaneous deep inhale and exhale of stress, they made their way to the hallway where the boys were waiting. 

Charlie and Jeremy offered y/n a wide smile to ease her nerves a little before Charlie held out his hand in front of him. “We got this. Legends on three?” The others nodded and, with a content smile on her face, y/n placed her hand on top of Charlie’s. 

“One,” said Charlie. 

“Two,” Jeremy and Madison added in unison. 

“Three!” Owen and y/n finished and all five their hands went up in the air as they yelled out “Legends!” Though it was scary, y/n knew she had four amazing people that would guide her through it. 

“Please, welcome the cast of Julie and The Phantoms!” Jimmy introduced them and, while the Roots played the infamous intro song, the cast walked through the red curtain. Madison and y/n ahead, holding one another’s hands as to not fall in their heels, then followed Charlie, Jeremy and Owen. 

The audience cheered and applauded until they sat down and the music faded away. “Welcome, welcome!” Jimmy said excitedly. “Thank you for being here!” The cast beamed at the host, unable to contain their excitement nor nerves. 

“Thanks for having us,” said Charlie, the polite Canadian. 

“So, exciting news, season two of your show Julie and The Phantoms premieres on Netflix tonight, is that correct?” 

“Yes!” all five said, though not quite in unison, and the crowd roared again. Y/N couldn’t hide the smile on her red painted lips as she looked out into the sea of people. 

Jimmy turned to the crowd, “If the people at home have never heard of your show, how would you explain it?” His eyes fell on the girl closest to his desk, which was Madison, allowing her to answer the question. 

“Uhm… Julie and The Phantoms is about this girl, Julie, who tragically lost her mom and, with it, her love for music. That is until one day, she plays this old CD she finds and out pop these three lovable, dorky ghosts who used to be in a band in the 90’s, called Sunset Curve. They died when they ate bad hot dogs--” the crowd let out a laugh, and it made Madison chuckle too. “Yeah! -- Anyway, and so these boys kind of help her find her love for music again and they form a band, called Julie and The Phantoms as the audience can see the ghosts when they play with Julie. And a lot of things happen and it’s funny and light and cute!” 

Jimmy let out a chuckle too, “And now there’s a season 2!” Another cheer erupted from the crowd. “What can you tell us about season 2, Charlie?” he directed the question to the boy next to the newbee. 

“A lot happens! We see what happens with Nick and Caleb, and we meet Philippa, Pips, Covington who will stir up some crazy stuff in the boys’ lives, especially Reggie’s,” he explained with a grin. He stirred in his seat a little before placing his arm on the back of the couch, behind y/n’s head. The girl tried not to react to the overwhelmingly amazing scent of sandalwood that emanated from this movement. 

Jimmy’s eyes landed on y/n and she was certain that for a moment, he knew what she was thinking, but then he asked her a question instead. “How was it for you, y/n, as the newcomer to the cast? Did they immediately embrace you or did  you have trouble being accepted?” 

“I hated it--” she replied seriously,  but then giggled, “No, I loved it! They were so kind and so welcoming, I immediately felt like I was part of their tight group. It did feel strange at first, I’m not gonna lie. But after a while, coming to work didn’t really feel like working anymore.” 

“And your character, Phillipa, was she accepted by the other characters?” 

She cleared her throat of any nerves before answering. “Pippa was… well-- she was working for her dead great-uncle, so she had to make sure she was accepted and weasled herself into the friend group pretty quickly. She knew how to get to Reggie especially and thanks to him, got into their friend group.”

“That’s amazing. I’m so excited to watch! My daughters are eight and nine, and they loved season 1 of Julie and The Phantoms. They’re thrilled to see the new season!” 

A chorus of “aw”s were shared within the cast as well as throughout the audience. 

“Yeah, they’re pretty cute.” He picked up his cue cards to remind himself of the next bullet point he needed to talk about. “Oh! Since it’s almost Christmas, I like to ask my guests to tell us a fun holiday themed story before I send them off, do you guys have a fun holiday themed story for us?” 

The cast exchange glances until Owen asked, “Should we talk about the Christmas market we did last year after filming?” The rest of the cast made sounds of agreement with a few giggles mixed in between. 

“Tell us about the Christmas Market!” Jimmy shouted excitedly, almost resembling a five-year-old getting their Christmas presents early. 

Owen took the lead on this one. “So, we were all in Vancouver, we had wrapped season 2 and we would soon be going home, but we decided to spend one last night together at a Christmas market in Vancouver city…”    

Bundled up in layers of sweaters and a thick coat, y/n trekked through the layer of snow that blanketed to grounds of Vancouver City. She was trying her hardest not to focus on the blistering cold that nipped at her nose but rather on the story Charlie was telling the others in front of her. His voice boomed into the busy streets, along with the others’ laughter. 

She always loved the way Charlie told his stories about every wild adventure he’d ever been on and the way Owen quipped back with the wittiest of comebacks. Or how Madison would chime in with her typical Gen Z humor none of the boys understood. Y/N was sure going to miss the entire dynamic of the group when they were back home. 

Thousands of lights flickered above y/n’s head as they strolled through the entrance of the infamous Vancouver Christmas Market. She let her eyes take in the beauty whilst her stomach fluttered from excitement. Her love for Christmas Markets had never faltered over the years. It still excited her in the same way it did when she was just a child. 

“Can we get a hot chocolate first? I’m freezing!” Savannah suggested, her teeth chattering as she snuggled into her thick scarf. Smiling, y/n hooked her arm around hers and pulled her closer in hopes the warmth of all her layers would help the blonde girl a little. 

“I heard they have a unique recipe that only the Christmas Market here ever uses!” Charlie added with a wide grin before leading the gang towards the warm beverage kiosk. It resembled a cabin from a ski resort, decked out all the way with Christmas lights and foliage. 

The group stood in front of the kiosk and read the menu to figure out whatever they’d want to drink. “Ooh, that Peppermint Hot Chocolate sounds delish,” Owen said, and when y/n’s eyes landed on the words, her mouth curled up into a smirk. 

“We’re going that route tonight, hm?” 

The hot chocolate he was talking about was spiked with peppermint schnapps and chocolate liqueur. This sounded right up y/n’s street, and she knew it would warm Savannah up from the inside. 

“Follow me or don’t follow me, that’s up to you, but I am taking that route tonight.” Owen rubbed his gloved hands together until the lady inside the kiosk looked up at him, signalling that it was his turn to order. “A peppermint hot chocolate, please.” He sounded way too confident for someone who had just turned 21 that year. 

The woman peered over her half-moon glasses, letting her eyes glide from his eyes to his toes before sneering, “ID, please.” Owen’s mouth dropped open and with a lot of cursing underneath his breath, he reached for his wallet. 

“Ha! Owen’s getting ID’d!” Charlie cackled, shaking his head. The woman’s eyes darted over to the second boy, giving him the same one-up before raising her eyebrows as if saying “I’m gonna get you too, little boy”. 

And she did. She ID’d Charlie too. No one else but Charlie and Owen, which everyone had a good laugh at as they were sipping their hot chocolates, which for three out of ten isn’t spiked. 

While Jeremy and Booboo were still teasing the two boys, y/n turned around and let her eyes scan the entire view in front of her. All the pretty lights and the snow whirling to the ground so gracefully and the music floating through the air made the cold more bearable. 

A gasp eliciting from Jadah’s tiny body made y/n snap out of her thoughts and turn to the younger cast member. Her eyes were wide and shimmering, looking up at the tall Christmas tree that was towering above their heads with tens of thousands of lights blinking back at them. 

“Isn’t that the walk-through Christmas tree?!” she asked, excitedly. 

Madison took her hand and, giggling, they weaved through the sea of people towards the one-of-a-kind festive fairyland. Y/N exchanged glances with the rest before they, too, made a beeline towards the tree, dodging people left and right. 

“Hey, Owen, are you sure you’re gonna be able to fit?” y/n asked the tall Oklahoman teasingly. The boy’s mouth dropped open, and before she could properly register it, he started chasing her. She ran past Madison and Jadah, and tried to duck behind any other visitor until he eventually picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. The girl shrieked, prior to a giggle.  

Jimmy’s voice echoed over y/n’s flashback to the most festive night of that year. “You guys really sound like a close group of friends.” 

“Yeah! We are! We’re like a little family!” Charlie replied, dropping the arm that was on the back of the sofa around the girl’s shoulder. 

“What happened next?” Jimmy then questioned, curiously. The whole scene almost resembled a toddler listening to his bedtime story. 

Jeremy cleared his throat with a chuckle. “Well, if this night were a movie, you’d now have a cute montage of us going through that magical tree and on the carousel like little children.” 

“Yeah, you’d see us stuff our faces with churros and pretzels,” y/n added, making Jimmy and the crowd laugh. 

“And we got a lot of Christmas shopping done too!” Madison chimed in with a smile. “I actually got everyone’s present when they were right there with me. None of them noticed.” 

“Oh, no, I noticed,” y/n replied with a smirk, to which Madison reacted with widened eyes. 

“What’s next?!” Jimmy queried. His eyes were glistening as he listened to the cast talk. He just loved their dynamic and how well they got along with one another. 

Y/N continued the story as her mind tumbled back into her daydream. 

The music had stopped just a few minutes ago, but only now y/n’s ears picked up on the sudden absence. Knitting her eyebrows together, she lifted her eyes to the stage in the corner of the market where singers were carolling minutes ago, and was now completely empty. As the small amount of alcohol made her brain a little woozy, her teeth gnawed on her bottom lip in thought. 

“Guys… Should we--Should we go sing a song?” she suggested, causing all of them to look up in surprise. “There’s no one on the stage… Should we?” she pointed at the podium to emphasize what she meant. 

As smiles appeared on each of their faces, the group walked up to the stage and grabbed a microphone each. Charlie reached for the acoustic guitar on the stand, but y/n stopped him. 

“Let’s do a capella for once?” she told him tenderly. 

When his eyes met hers, she felt her lungs expand with the gasp that left her body. How gorgeous could one’s eyes be. But with that one look, the boy also knew what song she wanted to sing. The one song that had been stuck in her head for the past month during filming. And the rest of the crew knew too because when y/n counted them in softly, they all started to sing along. Their voices mingling perfectly and floating throughout the night sky. 

“The fireplace is burning bright, shining all on me I see the presents underneath the good old Christmas tree And I wait all night 'til Santa comes to wake me from my dreams Oh, why? 'Cause that's Christmas to me”

Savannah locked eyes with y/n and a smile fell to their lips before they looked out to the audience they had assembled with their harmonies reaching across the entire Christmas Market. 

“I see the children play outside, like angels in the snow While mom and daddy share a kiss under the mistletoe And we'll cherish all these simple things wherever we may be Oh, why? 'Cause that's Christmas to me”

Owen came to stand next to y/n and wrapped an arm around her shoulder as they all sang the chorus together, the tall blondie on lead vocals and the others harmonizing in the background. 

“I've got this Christmas song in my heart”

“Song in my heart”

“I've got the candles glowing in the dark I'm hanging all the stockings by the Christmas tree Oh, why? 'Cause that's Christmas to me Oh, why? 'Cause that's Christmas to me”

As though they had prepared the entire performance, Booboo led them into the next verse while the others acted as backing vocals for him. His warm, deep voice sent chills down everyone’s spines, especially of the people in the crowd. 

“I listen for the thud of reindeer walking on the roof As I fall asleep to lullabies, the morning's coming soon”

His cast mates then joined in again and together, they sang the chorus once again with Jeremy taking lead this time. While they did, y/n took a hold of Savannah’s gloved hand, squeezing it as they looked at each other with intent in their eyes. Like they meant what they were singing to one another. 

“The only gift I'll ever need is the joy of family Oh, why? 'Cause that's Christmas to me I've got this Christmas song in my heart”

“Song in my heart”

“I've got the candles glowing in the dark I'm hanging all the stockings by the Christmas tree Oh, why? 'Cause that's Christmas to me Oh, why? 'Cause that's Christmas to me”

Y/N turned her head to the other side now, locking eyes with Tori and Sacha, and shooting them a wink before they lapsed into the chorus one last time. It felt good to sing with everyone for once. During filming, it was always just a select group of people that got to sing together. 

“Oh, the joy that fills our hearts and makes us see Oh, why? 'Cause that's Christmas to me I've got this Christmas song in my heart I've got the candles glowing in the dark And then for years to come we'll always know one thing That's the love that Christmas can bring Oh, why? 'Cause that's Christmas to me”

As the crowd erupted into cheers and applause, the group shared an intense look, one that said they were always going to be friends. No matter how far away they’ll be from tomorrow on. Even if they don’t get picked up for a third season, they’re always going to be there for each other and be the best of friends forever. The only gift they’ll ever need is the joy of family. And they were family. 

“That was so beautiful!” Jimmy exclaimed after they’d told him about everything that had happened that night in a short synopsis. “Now, I believe you’re gonna sing for us now?” 

The cast nodded in unison. “Okay, what are you bringing us tonight? The song you sang at the Christmas market?” 

Madison giggled, “No, though we love that song, there’s one we collectively think is one of the greatest Christmas songs ever. It’s the ultimate classic Happy Xmas, War is Over by John Lennon.” 

“Amazing! You can go get ready!” he gestures to the tiled floor in front of the red curtain where the crew had set up their instruments and five microphones for them. “Catch Julie and The Phantoms season 2 on Netflix from tonight! They’re singing for us now. Madison, y/n, Charlie, Jeremy and Owen, take it away!” 

Owen counted them in by slamming his sticks together and then began playing the rhythm of the song. Y/N then chimed in with the jingling of the tambourine before the other boys and Madison joined with their respective instruments. Soon after, Madison’s voice floated through the talk show’s studio. 

“So this is Christmas And what have you done Another year over A new one just begun”

When the girls lock eyes, they shoot one another a wink before y/n takes over the next part of the verse. 

“And so this is Christmas I hope you have fun The near and the dear ones The old and the young”

Then the boys chime in, their voices mingling as they linger in the air for everyone to hear and enjoy. Y/N lets her eyes dart over to Charlie, who’s already looking at her with a smile on his face. 

“A very merry Christmas And a happy New Year Let's hope it's a good one Without any fears”

The others shut up, giving Charlie the floor now. He really was born to be a rockstar. The way he just owned the stage and looked like an absolute legend, singing his heart out and playing his guitar like a pro. And he’d only started learning when he was on season 1 of Julie and The Phantoms. 

“And so this is Christmas For weak and for strong The rich and the poor ones The world is so wrong”

For a split second, he locked eyes with y/n again as she took over and faced the audience with a smile, still working her little tambourine for the extra jingles. Somehow, this just felt like one of their jam sessions during rehearsals and not at all like it was a live broadcast on national television. 

“And so happy Christmas For black and for white Ooh, for everyone Let's stop all the fights”

Their voices mingled together again, and, in a boost of confidence, y/n grabbed the mic from its stand and walked over to Jeremy, rocking out with him as he shredded on the bass. 

“A very merry Christmas And a happy New Year Let's hope it's a good one Without any fears”

The music slowed down, and while Madi, Owen and Jeremy took care of the soft backing vocals, y/n walked over to Charlie and sang the lines to one another, never breaking eye contact. 

“And so this is Christmas And what have we done Another year over A new one just begun”

The music picked back up. Madison took over this time, and while y/n worked her tambourine, she danced her way towards the Latina girl with a smile plastered on her face. 

“And so happy Christmas We hope you have fun The near and the dear ones The old and the young”

She then turned to Owen as he took over on the next part. He shot her a quick wink whilst his mouth curled up on one side. “A very merry Christmas And a happy New Year Let's hope it's a good one Without any fear”

Each taking their turn, starting with Owen, they all sang a part of the backing vocals while the boys and Madison played the instrumental intermezzo. “Merry Christmas” 

“So this is Christmas”

“War is over now” 

Returning back to her spot, y/n placed her mic on the stand again, and along with the others, sang the very last lines of the song. 

“War is over If you want it It’s over now”

The crowd erupted into cheers and applause while the band assembled in the middle of the stage. Charlie grabbed y/n’s hand and gave it a small, reassuring squeeze. All five of them together took a bow before exchanging knowing glances. 

This time around, they knew they were going to see each other tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that as they were doing all the promo they could. It felt a lot more reassuring than it did that day at the Christmas Market when they had no clue when they’d see each other again. Though all of them knew that this was still the only gift they’ll ever need. Their little found family.  

JATP taglist: @hannahhistorian92​ @marinettepotterandplagg​@thequirkybookaholic​ @bookdealer5​ @tenaciousperfectionunknown​ @hemmingsness​ @iainttakingshitfromnobody​ @ifilwtmfc​ @angryknightstatesmantrash​ @kiss-themoongoodbye​ @rudysbay @thedarkqueenofavalon​​ @caitsymichelle13​​ @calamitykaty​ @wiselight​ @kcd15​​ @vicesvsvirtuesfanfic​ @stars-soph​ @kinda-really-lost​ @notasofti​ @alexpjoyner​ @n0wornever​ @kaitieskidmore1​ @tefilovesreading​ @pxperphxntom​ @crybabyddl​ @parkeret​ @headheartbellarke​ 

Names crossed out are the ones I couldn’t tag. 

Lemme know if you wanna be on my taglist! 

[everdreamart]

How I Gravitate Towards You

Rating: Teen and up

Relationship: Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widowgast

The Mighty Nein return The Blooming Grove. Essek takes time to think about the events that happened and has a talk with Caleb. Things slowly escalate from there ;)

~~~~~~~~~~

The grove was beautiful. Vines intertwined and tangled with the colorful blooms dotting the landscape. You would almost forget that this was, infact, a graveyard with the amount of life around it. Essek took a second to breathe in the nature around him. A very welcome change of environment compared to Cognoza.

Sighs and cheers of relief and triumph echoed around him as the Mighty Nein bathed in their newfound victory. The sight warmed his chest. His friends. Now there were actually nine of them.

How ironic. Essek thought to himself with a smile.

The Clays burst out of the moss covered temple and started to bombard the group with hugs. Caduceus was practically beaming with joy to see his family again. Jester rambled on about their adventure as the Clays eagerly rushed them inside. They gave curious glances to the two new members, but decided not to say anything about it at the moment.

Within moments food and tea were being prepared. Fjord asked to help with the cooking but was promptly shut down by Cornelius.

"Look at you all! It looks as if you have been through hell and back! Rest. We will take care of it," he said.

The food was delicious. Reminiscent of Caduceus' cooking from that one night in the Xhorhous. He smiled fondly at the memory. Essek's eyes drifted to each member of the Mighty Nein. How did this even happen?

His thoughts spiraled into an assortment of memories. Cold and alone in his study. Ambition gnawing at him as he struggles to progress in his research. Greed and selfish desire as he traded away his country's livelihood for knowledge. Fear as a bloodied human holds up one of the beacons he stole. Rage at the thought that his so very carefully planned espionage would be ruined by a bunch of sell-swords.

When had this ragtag group worn down his walls? Was it Jester's hugs? Or her consistently chaotic messages? Was it Yasha in her soft silence, or was it Beau in her harsh way of loving? Maybe Caduceus, with his gentle reassuring gestures. Or Veth, with her tough but kind way of showing care. Maybe it was Caleb. A mind that matches so perfectly to his own it was almost unsettling. Intellect sharp and piercing, with a gaze so intense he could melt under its warmth.

Essek found his eyes laid on Caleb. The strands of copper red hair falling partially over his eyes. A small part of him resists the urge to reach across the table and push the strands away. He studied his features, as if he hadn't already memorized them. The sharp curve of his jawline, his slightly tussled beard. Eyes so blue it almost felt like looking into the daytime sky. His mouth curved into a soft smile as he talked to Beauregard next to him. Essek lingered on that sight. The stress of these past weeks washed away as he focused on Caleb's smile. Then Caleb's eyes met his. Electricity jolted through him as the spark of whatever it was between them burned. Essek quickly looked away, a slight warmth building in his cheeks. He thanked the Luxon for drow skin coloration.

After food was had, the group gushed over their old (new..?) Friend. Poor man was probably so overwhelmed by the attention. Mollymauk - as Jester had told him - didn't say much at all in response to the Mighty Nein's questions.

"Empty… empty…" he trailed off.

As happy as they all were, exhaustion took over their senses. They were due for a much needed rest. Caleb did not have enough energy left to create the tower (Essek had quite a bit of thoughts he still needed to unpack about that place), so the group decided to sleep in the grove. Yasha lay with Beau snuggled up against her. They hugged and muttered sweet nothings to each other in low whispers. Molly was not too far from Yasha, and was quickly taken by peaceful sleep. Jester lay partially on Fjord's chest, talking about some new prank she wanted to try on her newly reunited parents. Caduceus lay back against the wall and was already passed out - his snore a rather loud one. Caleb lay next to veth, who was already out cold.

There wasn't really a need to be so close - they weren't in the confinements of the dome. And yet, they choose to drift near each other. Comfortable in the proximity. Essek felt very out of place. In the nights prior he could always stay a fair distance away from the cuddle pile, for the sake of keeping watch. But now, with the group all clumped together in the mass of life that was the blooming grove, Essek didn't know quite where to go. He fidgeted in his space as he debated where to trance. He can't go too far, but he definitely can't intrude on this intimate bond they all share. Eventually, Essek sits down a few feet from Caleb. He always seemed to gravitate towards him. Perhaps it was the similarities between them that made Essek feel safer in his presence.

Essek starts to begin his trance, and it is only then that the weight of the day's events crash onto him. The horrors of Cognoza will never truly leave his mind, but it is nothing compared to the absolute terror he felt when they were in that final fight.

The watch of one of the Somnovem caught him early on. The guilt of his actions surged into him tenfold. The lives he took, the families he'd broken, all for the sake of his selfish thirst for knowledge. It was all his fault.

He didn't catch sight of the tower hurled at him until it was too late. Caleb grunted as the weight of the rock (..flesh? It was very confusing) trapped him beneath it. Essek felt a surge of fear as he pictured the worst. He quickly scrambled over to where Caleb laid and desperately tried to pull him out. To no avail, it would seem. Those of his craft were not quite suited for these feats. Essek summoned the bead of possibility he had placed in himself beforehand. With a surprising surge of strength, he got Caleb to his feet.

In a rush of adrenalin,Caleb pulled him close and touched their foreheads together. If this was a different circumstance, Essek would be soaring. A small part of him completely forgot about the raging battle around them. That part focused on the presence of the man next to him. The wood burning autumn scent now mixed with the iron-y tinge of blood. That part of him noticed how close they were. Faces mere inches apart. Essek felt his heart jump into his throat. Then Caleb pulls back, the moment ending as quick as it began.

The ferver gained from this interaction was short-lived as Jester fell. Her bloody and broken corse strewn to the side carelessly. It was then that things started to go so very wrong. Jester was back thanks to Caduceus, mere seconds after she fell, but Esseks attention immediately went elsewhere. Caleb clutched at his torso with a grunt of pain as he fell, unconsciousness taking his form. Essek didn't even know he was capable of the rage that followed. He screamed and tore the very fabric of gravity itself around Lucien.

Then the battle field changed. It was no longer the fleshy horror of a city, but now a calming forest surrounding him. He looked forward to see the Mighty Nein - happy and smiling - with a hand outstretched towards him. It was Caleb. Caleb was calling him over to join them. Excitement burbled into him as he rushed towards the sight. It was only when he reached his destination he realized he had made a grave mistake.

The image of Caleb's torn and sundered body is one that will never leave Essek's mind. The sound it made as his lifeless corpse fell to the ground. The look he gave as the light left his eyes. It haunts him. The amount of terror, rage, pain and guilt he felt in that moment was immesruable. The world faded around him. Only being able to see the bloody shell of what once burned so bright. He fell to his knees, not hearing the final cries of battle around him. Essek's hands shook with emotion as he reached out to grab one of Caleb's. Those bright blue eyes he once knew were replaced by the vacuous expanse of emptiness and cold. He didnt hear the clerics rushing over and saying their prayers. He didn't hear the rest of the group trying to stifle their tears. He only stared into those eyes. Essek didn't breathe until Caleb inhaled once more.

Thoughts swirled around his head like an ocean of violent emotion. He can't trance like this. Essek stood up - trying his best to not wake his sleeping friends - and walked outside.

The calming reverie of the grove helped clear his mind a bit from these nightmares. He wandered around the exapanse, his hand tracing the occasional gravestone as he went. Eventually he came to the edge of the perimeter. Tall crystalline tree-like growths sprouted forth infront of him. Glowing ever so faintly. It was beautiful, the garden around him. So Essek sat and let himself soak up the tranquility of the nature around him.

It wasn't until he heard the rustle of footsteps that he opened his eyes.

"Its a bit late to be wandering the grove by yourself," Caleb noted, taking a seat next to Essek.

"Just… needed to clear my mind a bit." He replied.

"Ja, I get it. That was… a lot." Caleb laughed softly, a small smile playing on his lips. Essek found himself enraptured in the sound.

Caleb looked down, his brow furrowing ever so slightly as if deep in thought. He turned to look at Essek with a burning intensity. "Thank you, Essek."

Essek was taken aback by this. "For what?"

"You didn't have to come with us. You didn't have to risk your life just because I asked. And yet, you came anyway. Thank you." Caleb spoke softly. Appreciative.

Essek's mind whirred with thoughts. He didn't know how to respond. "I…" he trailed off. "Of course I.." Of course I had to come. You asked me to. I would do anything you asked. He didn't say. Instead, settling upon, "Of course I came. I care for you all more than any Dynasty or Empire. And I owe you this much."

Caleb shifted a bit at that. His hands fidgeted for a moment as he looked away. He moved his hand to touch Essek's. The touch was minimal. Almost unoticable to anyone but himself. Essek nearly jumped at the contact. A familiar tingling setting into his stomach.

Caleb's hand slowly grabbed Essek's, calloused fingers meeting smooth ones. Essek tried to map every detail. Every little feeling of the other man's hand in his. Entirely focused on the heat covering his skin.

"What do you plan to do after this?" Caleb inquired.

That startled Essek out of his reverie. "I.. I honestly do not know." He mumbled out. He couldn't go back to the dynasty, not with his situation like this. Could he go back to the outpost? Would that be safer? He was still responsible for people up there. He hadn't noticed himself squeezing Caleb's hand. At least, until Caleb squeezed back.

"What about you?" Essek asked, trying to shift the focus. "What do you plan on doing now?"

Caleb pondered for a moment, before responding with "There is still a few issues I need to take care of. I still have to help fix my home. Remove a cancer before it can spread."

Then, silence. It wasn't uncomfortable, per say, but something hung in the air. After a few moment in this quiet, Caleb turned and placed Essek under the intensity of his gaze. Those blue eyes bore into him with such a warmth. And Essek craved it. He craved to feel those eyes wash over him. He needed to see those eyes, alive and burning with a fiery passion.

The immense gravity of what he almost lost crushes him. The man sitting next to him, tenitivly holding his hand, died. If things hadn't worked out so well, if something different happened, he wouldnt have Caleb here next to him. That thought broke him. His eyes dropped down to look at the ground. Apperently he wasnt doing a very good job at hiding his emotions at the moment, because Caleb's face fell. He frowned and scooted closer to cup Essek's cheek.

"What's wrong, Shaltz?" Caleb asks tenderly. His thumb rubbing Essek's Cheekbone.

Essek looked up at him, and put his other hand on Caleb's as if to confirm that he was really here. "You… died Caleb… you died and I couldn't do anything. What if Caduceus and Jester didn't get there so quickly? What if something went wrong? What if-"

"I'm here. I'm ok. Everything is ok." Caleb cut him off. His voice gentle and soothing.

It was only then that Essek met his gaze. Caleb smiled softly, and Essek realized how close they were. Caleb's breath ghosting over Essek's lips. Essek forgot how to breathe. He could only focus on the feeling of Caleb so close to him. So close and yet not close enough. If he could just close the few inches… It took every ounce of self control that Essek had to steady himself. His pounding heart, the swarm of butterflies in his stomach. He knew he was staring. How could he not? Small freckles speckled across Caleb's face, framed by vibrant red hair.

The hand placed on Essek's cheek moved to the back of his neck, and Essek froze. Caleb painstakingly leaned in. So slow, so excruciatingly slow. As if to give Essek time to back away. To leave. But he didn't. And their lips met. The kiss was so soft, almost featherlight, and Essek's mind went blank. He could only focus on the sensation of Caleb's lips on his, how they were chapped and warm and perfect.

Caleb pulled back, a breaths distance between them. In all of his study of time, all Essek wanted to do now was stop it on that moment. It was over far too soon. Just the smallest brush of lips. He wanted it to last longer. He wanted more.

Essek leaned back in, crashing their lips together. This time the kiss was more desperate. As if scared that the other would pull away. Essek relished in the feeling. The heat of the man so close to him spreading to every inch of his body. Their lips fit together perfectly. Moving together and pressing into eachother. Essek moved his hand to Caleb's head. His fingers combing through the strands of coppery red. It was perfect. He wanted to remember every little sensation. He wanted to chart every little movement. His heart was beating so hard in his chest. He wants this to last forever.

They separate after what feels like a lifetime to catch their breath. Caleb's mouth is still parted as he gasps for breath. Essek savors the taste of Caleb on his lips as his breathing begins to steady. Part of him wants to reach out. To take Caleb's mouth once more. But Caleb speaks before this is possible.

"That was…."

He doesn't need to complete the sentence. Essek already knew.

And they gravitated towards each-other once more.

[hwy-unicorn]

show me the places where the other’s gave you scars

Summary: He holds you, tighter than you’ve ever been held before, but it feels safe. You are not frightened by it. And he whispers your name into the night, as he presses you into the mattress, his firm hands caressing your body in ways that make you feel on fire. It’s a burn that you welcome; you are willing to be engulfed by the flames.

More loving Normero smut ;) also my first time writing in second person so lmk what you think!!

It was no secret to Alex that you had scars. He had spent hours exploring every inch of your body, committing each and every part of you to his memory. He considered you a treasure, and he was one of the few people that you allowed to see you in such meaningful ways. Not that you were a stranger to sex, you’ve had your fair share of experiences with men before, but it was never like this. No man before him had wanted to take their time with you, to see and love every part of you. So while others have seen you, no one has truly seen you in the way he has. And no one ever questioned your scars, sometimes you wonder if they had even noticed them at all as they were too caught up in having a woman to lay claim to.

Alex, however, noticed everything. Every scar, scratch, bump and bruise of yours was tucked away in his brain, and he was always careful to treat such an area with a tenderness that it may have not had before. Your scars didn’t hurt anymore, the pain washed away with the years, but it didn’t seem to matter to him because he was always attentive to those areas. He would always provide each spot with the most featherlight touches and faintest of kisses. You wondered if he was even aware of what he was doing.

He never brought it up though, never asked you questions about where they had come from, and for that, you were grateful. It was not that you didn’t trust him, you actually trusted Alex with every part of you, but you were still cautious about what you revealed. You couldn’t help the fear that lurked beneath the surface, afraid to see Alex walk out the door and never return, the burden of your monsters too dark for him to handle.

But you noticed him, his curious eyes and wandering fingertips, always tracing the edges of your marred skin, silently wondering where they had come from. And at night, when he’d carry you to bed after dinner, intent on making love to you for the rest of the night, that one particular scar would always catch his eye. It was the one on your inner thigh, the patch of skin that provided you with a traumatic flash of memory every time your fingers grazed it. You remember the panic you had felt on your first night with him, when he had touched it and gazed up at you sadly, almost like he knew that it wasn’t from an innocent accident. And then you had pulled him away from it, had distracted him with a searing kiss and a well practiced moan, and he didn’t question it. You let him see it now. You wonder what he might say if you told him where you had gotten it.

You want to tell him everything, you don’t want to feel like there is a barrier between you both, but you don’t know how or even when to say it.

Tonight, you eat dinner alone. Alex is working late; he has been working late quite a bit these past few nights, and he sounded so apologetic on the phone that you couldn’t be the least bit upset with him. You know his job isn’t easy, but you have been getting lonely. Though, these lonesome evenings have given you some time to think about your whirlwind of a relationship with the man you had once hated and was sure hated you in return- even though he said he never did. You had only been married a few months now, truly together for even less than that; it felt like you didn’t really know each other at all, but at the same time he knew more about you than anyone before him. It was you who didn’t know much about him, and you longed to know more.

You finish eating your dinner by the time you hear the front door creak open, and you pause your work on the dishes to heat the leftovers. He comes up behind you, sweeping your hair off to the side to place a gentle kiss on your shoulder and you smile, leaning into him. He feels strong and safe and you want to stay here forever, and luckily for you he has no intentions of letting you go yet

“I’m sorry I’m late,” he sighs into your neck, peppering more soft kisses there, his fingers rubbing soothing circles on your hips. “I won’t be working late much longer, I promise.”

The microwave beeps but neither of you move, his hands still on your waist and face still buried in the crook of your neck, but it feels different now. “Are you mad at me?” he asks and you shake your head, pulling one hand from your hip to kiss his palm.

“I’m not mad,” you reassure, and he smiles, gently turning you to kiss you.

“I’m not hungry,” he whispers against your lips, and you frown, pulling away to give him a soft glare. “I ate already,” he admits, his eyes apologetic and you gasp mockingly, placing a hand on your chest, as if you are truly offended.

He rolls his eyes, he knows your tricks by now and you can’t help but giggle as he lifts you onto the counter. His lips are on you again, devouring you hungrily and you shiver against him as his hands move up and down your body, as if he needs to touch every part of you. He is always so careful with you, gentle, yet rough all at once and the contrast is intoxicating. Alex is strong and dominant, but it is not something that you fear, no, you lose yourself in it. He leads, and you follow, but it’s pleasant because you know you are taken care of and that he would never do anything to cause you harm.

“Not here,” you murmur against his lips. You are both desperate, buzzing with need, but you don’t want a quickie on the kitchen counter.

He lifts you with ease, carrying you up the stairs, though you would’ve accepted the couch as a reasonable second option. Laughter fills the room as he stumbles, falling onto the bed with you in his arms, and you push yourself up, straddling his hips, giggling wildly as you push him onto his back. Sometimes, he is happy to let you lead; he would gladly follow you into fire.

Your hands make quick work of the buttons on his shirt, gasping against his lips as he bucks his hips up into you. You can feel him through his jeans and you can’t help the breathy moan that escapes you at the sensation. You fumble a bit with the buttons, becoming too desperate to even think straight and Alex takes the opportunity to gently flip you onto your back, taking his place on top of you.

Sometimes you find it strange how much you enjoy being underneath him, as with men before it had felt claustrophobic. But he doesn’t press you down hard, does not make you feel trapped or suffocated beneath him, instead, protected, and while you often are on top of him for sex, this position doesn’t bring you any discomfort.

He kisses you, softer this time, as he works at the buttons of your blouse. His movements are not frantic anymore, you can feel the energy slow, though arousal still courses through you like fire in your veins. Alex slides your blouse off your shoulders, and you sit up to help him undo your bra. The light is still on, you can see his face as he watches you, so full of love and adoration while you undress for him.

His hands slide up your tummy, and cup your breast, just softly squeezing and you sigh, laying back onto the pillows. He does not want it to be quick this time, you can already tell by the way he is looking at you. He wants to watch you come undone, and while you love your passionate, heated encounters, you truly don’t mind this. It feels strangely empowering to have him see you in such a vulnerable way.

Alex’s lips close around your nipple, his hand cupping your other breast, as he nips at you playfully, soothing the sting with his tongue. You can feel yourself becoming needy, and he can feel it too, but he holds down your hips as you push them into him and you can’t help but groan. He shushes you, too intent on taking his time with you tonight, and you know you will not get what you want so soon.

He will make it worthwhile though.

His mouth trails down your body, his hands pulling your panties off as he kisses your tummy, moving down towards your thighs and spreading your legs.

Your eyes flutter close as his lips trace a gentle path up your legs, and he smiles at your frustrated groan when he skips over the place you need him most. He moves his mouth down your other thigh, placing a soft kiss against your scar, like he always does, and your eyes flutter open. You prop yourself up on your elbows to see him watching you lovingly while his lips trail along the edge of the blemished skin. There is no judgement in his eyes as he looks back up at you, his face full of adoration and you feel your tummy flutter, suddenly wanting to reveal every secret you have to him. He already knows so much; he knows what Caleb had done to you all those years ago, that Dylan is his son, he knows about Norman and how he killed Sam to protect you. What is one more secret?

“It’s from an iron,” you breathe, and he pauses his movements to look up at you. You open your eyes again, looking down at him as he stares up at you questioningly. “The scar. It’s from an iron.”

He looks back at the mark that he was kissing only moments ago, his fingers touching it softly as if he was worried he would hurt it. “Oh.”

You swallow, fingers flexing nervously against your tummy as he waits for you to say more, unsure if that is as far as you will go.

“It happened when I was little,” you clear your throat, staring down at the mark with disdain.

“My brother…” you feel his grip tighten just a little, before he relaxes. “He wanted… erm… I was ironing and he was-he just-” you can’t bring yourself to say the words again, but he understands, you can see it in his eyes, so you just continue.

“My dad came home and I was scared he would see, he-he was scary, he would’ve hurt Caleb I just know it. So I jumped up really fast and I knocked the iron over and it fell on my leg. And he just- he just put his hand over my mouth because I was crying so much and-” you can feel your resolve cracking, tears filling your eyes and you’re upset because you’ve ruined the mood- you can just feel it- and you feel a mix of guilt and disgust with yourself

But Alex says nothing to make you feel that way as he moves from his spot between your legs, shushing you gently while you begin to cry. You regret saying anything at all. Your hands cover your face, but you can feel him hovering above you, his voice soft as he promises you that everything will be okay.

He gently pulls your hands away from where they are covering your eyes, and you look up at him tearfully, letting your eyes flutter close as he wipes the tears away. He leans closer, so his chest is against yours, but is keeping most of his weight on his arms so you don’t feel crushed, and you feel more tears coming to your eyes at the gentleness of it all.

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer, sighing in relief as your face rests in the crook of his neck.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, and he hums questioningly. “I’ve ruined the mood. I know you don’t want me right now.”

“Norma,” he murmurs in a sort of scolding tone, but you shake your head.

“It’s okay, I understand.”

“Stop,” he sighs. “You haven’t ruined the mood.”

“Yes I h-” you gasp as his fingers press against your clit, rubbing soft circles. “Oh.”

Your head falls back against the pillows, eyes fluttering close as he kisses your lips sweetly. “You haven’t ruined anything. Do you want me to keep going?”

You nod frantically, and although the weight of your revelation still hangs in the air, your arousal is too heavy to ignore. His fingers slide into you and he moves down your body, probably wanting to finish what he had begun before you had told him everything, but you stop him. You cannot wait any longer.

“No, I-” you shudder against his fingers, feeling yourself getting close. “I want you inside me.”

He groans at your words, and you quickly reach down to undo the button on his jeans, frantically pushing them off of his legs, along with his boxers, in one quick motion. His movements are slow and gentle as he pushes inside you, and although you pull him closer and try to make him go faster, he holds off, as if he’s afraid to be too rough and hurt you. And he continues those slow movements as he thrusts in and out of you, his fingers dancing ever so gently, almost teasingly against your clit and it's agonizing.

“Alex,” you whimper, pulling him closer against you. “Harder please, I need you.”

He shakes above you, but gives in to your demand. You can feel yourself beginning to come undone as he thrusts into you harder and faster, and you are gasping, gripping at him, at the sheets, unsure what to hold onto to keep yourself grounded.

He holds you, tighter than you’ve ever been held before, but it feels safe. You are not frightened by it. And he whispers your name into the night, as he presses you into the mattress, his firm hands caressing your body in ways that make you feel on fire. It’s a burn that you welcome; you are willing to be engulfed by the flames.

“Norma, Norma, Norma.”

Repeated like a mantra as he gasps and moans, and shakes above you, willing himself to hold back until you’ve crashed over the edge. It’s entirely different from anything you’ve ever experienced before, no man has ever wanted you like this. No man has ever touched you like this. No man has ever seen you like this.

It’s freeing, but scary all the same, because you’ve never been this vulnerable or exposed. No one had ever known your darkest secrets or deepest flaws, because you were sure that no one could handle it. The monsters under your bed are much too frightening for anyone to fight, but he fights them for you. He goes into the thicket of the woods that are your fears, like a knight in shining armor, armed with nothing but his love for you and he fights all those monsters that bring you harm. He wants to destroy them, and maybe someday he will, but for now they remain. It doesn’t matter though, it’s enough for you to know that you have someone fighting for you. You are not alone anymore.

[thatonesadending]

Molly gets to finally see his room in Caleb's tower, and it was more than he could handle - Chapter 4

He didn’t know what he had been expecting when he first crossed through the Tower’s door, but it definitely wasn't this. It had nearly knocked him down when he entered that first floor, and then he looked up and felt as though he couldn’t breathe. Eventually, he found his words again and asked Caleb where they were and what this place was, even though he knew he couldn't really take in any more information. As it was, he was having issues keeping up with just the Nien’s physical changes, let alone their achievements. The ones they earned without him.

When Caleb had taken him to the level that was floor to ceiling filled with books, and massive creation of light and color that was obviously a representation of his own artwork, he simply lost all ability to process at all. He couldn’t take in the mixing of both of them. Of Caleb and Molly. Here in this man’s home. He stared for a long time at the glass, and how it made the books around it dance with life. Thankfully Caduceus, whom Molly was pretty sure was just a saint cover in velvety fur, came and saved him.

“They found me after you were gone, but they never forgot you. They all mourned in their own ways, but this -” The firbog pointed his staff at the stained glass,”- this was Caleb’s way of honoring you and the way you impacted all of them. Showing the others that he shared their pain, and joy. It’s really what this whole place is about, Caleb showing through magic what he does not convey through words, how much he loves his friends. I think …” Caduceus paused, considering his words, “I think that you never really stopped being with them, in a way. Something about you changed them all. I think you will find that out on your own, in time.”

Molly was thankful but overwhelmed by the man’s wisdom. He continued to ask questions of him, not really taking in most of the answers, but feeling cared for nonetheless.

It wasn’t until Caleb had said he had a room for Molly, and for some reason that had bothered Beau, that he began to feel uneasy again. Not unwanted or unwelcomed, just that he didn't belong. He still took the wizard’s hand, and they floated to nearly the top.

“Ja, so, I must confess I should have thought ahead and moved your room with the others. I promise the next time I cast it, I will.” Good to know that Caleb was still self-deprecating.

“Darling, I had to float here like a feather for what, 5 extra seconds? I think I will survive. ” Molly tried to reassure him, but Caleb just wrinkled his nose a bit before responding.

“Nien. It’s not that. Ah, well - this is your door.” He pointed to one that looked the same as the other 8 doors. “It will only open for now for me. But I promise that if you have one of the cats come to get me, I will open it immediately. That is if you choose to stay, that is up to you.” There were too many questions that statement produced for Molly. Why would it only open for Caleb? Cats? Why would he refuse a bed and clean clothes? He just wanted to lay down, try to sleep, but also try and not think about the fact that apparently, he had been dead not just an hour ago, and Lucien had been trying to kill his friends using his face. He was too over his head though to ask any of his questions and just nodded his head in acceptance.

Nothing could have prepared him for this next door. Molly knew he had almost immediately frozen on entering, and he could hear Caleb asking him if he was ok. But he couldn’t move or speak, just …. stare.

He had just walked into a beautiful circus tent, the fabric striped with cream and sun-faded red. The top of which was impossibly tall, and had a trapeze of sorts, like that he used to adore practicing on while Yasha spotted him. Underneath was a ridiculously large bed, almost as though it was a mat to catch him if he fell from the swing above, but it was big enough to hold all of the Mighty Nien. But it was the swirl of colors that really struck him.

The bed was not made up neatly, but rather a pleasantly lived-in pile of pillows of every texture and shape he could have thought of, as well as different blankets of different designs that all seem to somehow compliment and contrast each other perfectly. It looked like the perfect embodiment of cozy and sensual.

There was also an overly ornate armoire that was the boldest shade of red Molly had ever seen, matched only by its accompanying vanity with more little drawers than Molly could count in common, and a large dresser that held the promise of holding anything he could think of putting in it. However, despite all of these wonderful things, none if it is what really caught Molly’s attention

He hadn't even realized that he had drifted to the middle of the room, pulled there by magic or aw, he didn't know nor care. He was gazing at the far side of the room, where 2/3s of the tent stopped and were interrupted by the far most beautiful part of the tower he had yet to see.

“Ja, yes let me open it for you.” Caleb said from behind him, but Molly wasn't sure he wanted Caleb to touch the artwork he was looking at. “Give me just a moment darling.”He whispered, Caleb stopped and patiently stood by his side once more, and waited. IIt matched in style to the same stained glad he had seen down in the library, only this window stretched and arched to meet the top of the canvas of the tent, and seemed to glow with the almost holy light that backlit it.

The glass was mostly that of a night sky, unrealistically peppered with close together stars. However, where the stars would have gathered to be galalexies, Molly could see images. Depictions of memories.

He stepped closer to get a better look and was shocked at the emotion that shards of colors glass could remind him of. Some of the art was scenes of him and moments with the Mighty Nien. Him teaching Jester how to read cards. His swords out in front of him protecting Nott. Him pushing Caleb incredibly close to a wall in a sewer. A bowl of fruit covering his most intimate parts while a crown teetered on his head. Beau flipping him off in one of their regular exchanges …. And Molly kissing Caleb on the forehead.

That last depiction wasn't quite how he remembered it. Caleb had a far off, terrified look about him, which was accurate. But he did not remember placing a hand to the redded cheek he had slapped while kissing Caleb almost reverently on the soft skin of his temple. Of course, he remembers the strike to stir him, and the kiss to bring him back, but the closeness ... It was most certainly from Caleb’s perspective, but the intimacy was more than Molly thought it had meant at the time.

However still, scattered amongst all the scenes, were ones that he had never shared with the wizard. Scenes from his life at the circus. Scenes depicting the first time he balanced on a rope. His first Ale. His first piercing. Him and Yasha lounging in a field of flowers, swapping stories of whatever had transpired the night before. She was the constant in all of these images. These were the stories she must have shared with Caleb to make these memories dance with the light of the glass. She didn't share the dark ones of finding him alone, covered in dirt, unable to speak. All of the horrible times where he struggled to find a place in the world when he didn't understand how to eat, or bathe, let alone carry a conversation. She chose to remember him as vibrant, fully appreciating life, and he was filled with so much love that he could no longer see the glass in front of him. His eyes too filled with tears.

“Ok.” That was all he managed to say, after several long moments of looking at his life depicted in artistry through the haze of tears that he pushed back before they could fall.

Caleb moved slowly and started to part the panes of glass with handles Molly hadn’t seen before. The incredible work bent and moved much like an accordion, Caleb pushing each side to meet the tent, until Molly was covered in Moonlight. She glowed impossibly large in the night sky, and the light kissed every inch of the magical space.

“This was my best attempt at recreating her, of course, it isn't really the Moonweaver, but I had hoped - thought …” Caleb drifted off in his excuses for why this wasn't the most incredible sight Molly could be beholding. “It is just that, ah - I do not know if you are able to pray here, but it is what I - well, imagined.” Caleb festered to the floor in front of the window. Molly finally looked at the ground, he hadn’t given it a second thought, as everything up and around him was already so much to take in. But stretched from wear the glass doors parted, to where his bed was, there were incredibly soft overlapping carpets of differing shades of lavender, cream and lilac. They all looked divine to stretch out on, to bask in the moonlight, and even to kneel and pray to the Moonweaver.

Molly didn't know what came first, the hot fall of tears, or him wrapping his arms around his wizard.

“Thank you.” He couldn't manage much more than that, as much as he wished he could. Somehow, Caleb had found a way to capture not only everything he loved about his life, but why he loved it, and make it into a space just for him right as he needed it the most. Right as he was feeling out of sorts and like he didn't belong with the living anymore.

“Of course Schatz, Ich wünschte nur, du hättest früher hier sein können.” Molly didn't care that he couldn't understand what Caleb said, he was too busy sobbing into the man’s neck, clinging to the second chance of life he had been given.