#i am hopelessly in love with mollymauk and caleb | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

midnigtartist · 5 years ago

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Spicy Mermauk

long time since ive posted anything for this au but I promise its still going strong

this fic is m rated and set after Molly and Caleb are already together

also @millimauk did some amazing art to go with it uwu

Caleb knows its Mollymauk who’s entered his study by the sound of gentle foot falls with no accompanying voice announcing their presence. Instead he hears the snap of the door as its shut. Hands come to rest on his shoulders as Mollymauk drops a kiss to the top of his head. Caleb sets aside the pen he was holding, instead reaching up to lay his own hand over Molly’s.

“Hallo Schatz” he murmurs, swiveling his chair around so that he can see the mermaid.

He’s grown so used to Molly walking around stark naked at this point, and maybe that’s not great, but that familiarity is what makes the times Molly does put something on more noteworthy. Currently he’s wearing the long, loose skirt he enjoys so much, Caleb suspects it has something to do with keeping his legs free. He's offered Molly trousers before, but he finds them to constricting. So on the rare occasion that Molly does wear something around the house, it's often this, as well as the bandages around his middle that hide his abdominal gills. They’re as much to keep them from Jester and Beau as they are to keep irritation away from the sensitive organs.

As Caleb turns around Molly drapes his arms over his shoulders and gives him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Working?” he signs.

Caleb nods. “Ja, ja I am going through my notes so that i can compile them into a usable thesis for the conference.” he flushes at the fact that he can find very little in his notes about Molly that aren't riddled with undertones of pinning or outright too vulgar to put in a presentation. “But aahh, you know I think I’ve been at it long enough for now.”

Molly grins, planting his hands on the arms of the chair so he can lean down and capture Caleb's mouth in a searing kiss. When he pulls back, Caleb is almost dazed.

“Good” Molly signs, before taking Caleb’s hands and pulling him out of the chair. The creak of his joints tells Caleb he’s definitely been sitting here too long. “I’ve missed you today.”

“I’m sorry I have not been able to make much time for you today, Mollymauk.” he says, wrapping arms around Molly's waist.

Molly shrugs, nuzzling up against Caleb instead of replying, twining his arms around his neck.

Caleb had never considered how utterly touch starved he was before Molly took up residence with him. But Molly is not shy with his affections and Caleb finds himself growing more and more willing to indulge himself in his idle touches. So he pulls Molly close by the hips and ducks his head down to bury his face in his soft curls, letting some of the tension of the day ebb out of his body. Molly stretches up to press the length of himself to Caleb’s front. Caleb can feel his breath against his neck. It makes him shiver. Hes about to pull away when Molly tightens his grip around his shoulders, nudging his hips forward just enough that Caleb can feel an unmistakable hardness pressing against his thigh. He sucks in a sharp breath. His face flushes with heat as the tone of this chaste embrace quickly shifts

“Mollymauk,,,?”

Molly hums into his ear, the sound quickly becoming a rumbling purr in the other man's chest as he presses impossibly closer.

“Mollymauk are you-?”

A nod against his neck, and then Molly pulls away, looking up at Caleb with his fathomless red eyes.

“I really missed you today” Molly signs. “I was really quite bored, so I had to find ways to entertain myself.” and he smiles a knowing smile that has Caleb’s heart doing flips in his chest.

He sets his hands on Molly’s waist, over the bandages, and Molly shivers. It's almost more than Caleb can stand. Beautiful Mollymauk in nothing but a long, flowing skirt, a noticeable tenting in the front of it that makes his mouth dry with want. “Do ahh-” he lets his hands wander. Slides them down over the swell of Molly's ass to the backs of his thighs, slowly gathering the material in hand until he can brush the pads of his fingers over Molly’s warm skin. “Do you want help with this?”

Molly nods eagerly, rewrapping his arms around Caleb’s neck as Caleb slips his hands up the back of his skirt. It's easy to push the fabric aside and run his palms over every inch of Molly's soft skin, stopping just short of the denting in the front. Molly makes a mournful noise in the back of his throat. Caleb captures it with his lips.

“Okay” he murmurs against the other man’s mouth. “Okay, okay ja, give me one moment.”

With one hand still cupped around the back of Molly’s thigh, Caleb pivots them, turning them towards his desk. Its littered with pages of notes and scraps of paper and other, more important things, he's sure. He disregards all of that, sweeping it aside to make a clear space on the desk. Things go scattering to the floor, Caleb pays them no mind. Instead he bends and wraps arms around Molly’s legs, hoisting him up onto the desk, no small feat in his mind as his thin arms aren’t meant to lift more than a peer reviewed study. Molly quickly tangles fingers into his hair, dragging him down into an open mouthed kiss that causes a groan to catch on the back of Caleb’s tongue. With fumbling fingers, Caleb reaches up to the bandages around Molly’s torso, undoing them with clumsy, stumbling fingers. The wrappings go slack in his hand. Slowly Caleb unravels them, relishing in the way Molly shudders at the soft fabric brushing against tender skin. All the while Mollymauk lays kisses over his jaw, and nips softly at his lips. Clearly desperate. Desperate at the thought of him. Gods, Caleb had not even given himself a moment to consider. To consider Molly bored and listless in his bed, occupying himself with thoughts of him. Touching himself to the thought of him. Caleb draws back to muffle a groan into the side of Mollymauk’s neck, stomach hot and heart throbbing against his rib cage. He’s hopelessly smitten with this beautiful creature, and he cannot fathom how the feeling could be mutual, and yet it is. Surely it is, as Molly takes his face in hand and guilds him back up so that their lips meet.

“A moment-” he breaths, prying Molly off just long enough to get the words out. “A moment bitte”

Mollymauk complies, drawing back with a final nip at Caleb’s lips that leaves him breathless. He presses a swift kiss under Molly’s jaw, where he can feel his pulse hammering under the skin.

“I need to get the door. Just one moment, mein Schatz.”

Molly sighs deeply, but nods, unknotting his arms from around Caleb's neck with an air of deepest disappointment.

Caleb finds that he can't get to the door fast enough. Outside of Mollymauk’s embrace he feels cold, and even his stumbling feet seem to protest the separation. How weak he is for the man. But it wont do to have either of the girls barging in on them. They are already convinced that the time the time he and Molly spend in here is less than scientific. They would only be right about forty percent of the time. Most of their time spent locked in Caleb’s study is utterly professional. And yet sometimes,,,,

As Caleb clicks the lock into place, he hears Molly let out a breathy cry, and he whips around to see what’s happened.

Gods hes looks so debauch like this.

Without a shred of decency, Molly’s leaned back against the wall and thrown his legs wide, palming over the prominent bulge in the front of his skirt. Little, voiceless sighs leave him. Caleb is back at his side in an instant. Sliding between his legs and tipping his head up to catch the mermaid in a deep and desperate kiss. His hands find purchase on Molly’s sides, thumbs ever so gently stroking over the tops of his gills. They flutter and twitch ever so slightly under the rough pads of his thumbs. Each brush of his fingers causes Molly’s breath to hitch until the other man is squirming under his touch, chest heaving every so slightly. He buries his face in the side of Caleb’s neck and keens soundlessly. Occasionally he bites down, drawing a low groan from Caleb himself. Caleb lays a line of wet kisses along the length of his throat. Molly’s hands tighten on his forearms, a request without words.

He's not sure why he's hesitant to bring a hand down to palm Molly through the fabric of his skirt. The majority of the times he's known the mermaid he’s been nude, and certainly this isn't the first time they’ve been intimate with each other. But there’s something about touching Molly’s clothed form that sends a thrill down his spine. Like him being covered adds a layer of obscenity to the whole thing, like Molly is something to be unwrapped, by him, and him alone. He shuddered at the strange thought, and strokes Molly lightly through the loose fabric feeling the hot curve of his cock against his palm. Molly’s back arches, pressing up as Caleb touches him, feather light.

He loves the shiny magenta flush in his cheeks, and how his mouth silently forms the shape of sounds his throat can’t make. Soft cries and low guttural moans that still ring clear in Caleb’s ears from the so few times he's gotten to hear them. Caleb kisses the curve of his horn, then his temple, before bowing his head to kiss his shoulder as well. He feels Molly drag a hand down his arm over his hip, before finally coming around to cup Caleb through the front of his trousers. Caleb's breaths out harshly through his nose at the contact.

“Nien,, nien Schatz” he mutters, careful removing the hand from his crotch.

Molly looks worried, confused as he pulls back, so Caleb brings his hand up to kiss the back of his knuckles and smile fondly at him. “I am going to focus on you right now.”

A light of recognition sparks in Molly's eyes.

“Research?” he signs.

Caleb sighs, cupping Molly’s face in both hands and kissing him sweetly. “I wish you would stop calling our intimate moments ‘research’ I thought that I had made it clear that you mean far more to me than that.”

“Oh I know that” Molly signs. “It's just a good joke yeah?”

Again Caleb sighs, but its colored by the smile that he cannot contain. “If you say so.”he says, kissing Molly sweetly once more before descending upon his throat. He kisses over his clavicle, layer marks over fading marks in a familiar pattern over Molly’s flush and lovely skin. By the time he's made it down to his stomach, lavishing kisses over the expanse of brilliant lavender, Molly is panting.

“This is very lovely.” Caleb says, kissing just above the waistband of the skirt. He’s sunk to his knees, kneeling between Molly’s spread legs. His straining cock pushes against the fabric of the skirt, creating folds that Caleb finds himself rather taken with. “It would be a waste to take it off so soon- if you are willing to leave it on a bit longer, mein Schatz” his gaze flickers quickly up to Molly, who nods.

“Yes” he signs shakily. “Yes” over and over until Caleb drags blunt nail gently over his inner thigh and suddenly Molly’s hands become too preoccupied with gripping the edge of the desk.

Caleb hums against his belly once more. “Alright”

It’s harder to see Molly’s hands from here, he can't see if he's sloppily signing anything. All he has to go on as he kisses and nips his way up the length of the other man’s thigh is the sound of his stuttering breath catching in his chest and sharp, silent gasps. The barely there sounds still sit warm in Caleb’s belly as he drags chapped lips over the inner seam of the mermaid’s thigh. As he approaches the hem of the skirt, he ducks beneath it, drawing a startled gasp from his companion. Fingers tighten against his shoulders, and Caleb presses his self satisfied smile into the heat of Molly’s flushed skin

It's dark under the fabric, the light muted and dim. The air here hot, and thick with the smell of sweat and prespend. He can see Molly’s cock now, pressing insistently against the inside of the skirt that does little to provide him modesty. The fabrie falls over it like drapery where its stands heavy and hard between his thighs. The head is flushed a deep shade of mauve. Caleb feels a pang of sympathy for him. How long had Mollymauk lay there, palming himself before coming to seek Caleb out, Caleb wonders. He draws fingers over the heated flesh, slow and reverent, gently touching each flushed ridge on the underside of Molly’s cock so that his legs tense on either side of him. Had he let idle hands wander across his belly before touching himself over the fabric of the skirt? Or had he hiked it up and out of the way before taking himself in hand. Caleb curls his own hand around the base of him and gives two loose pumps. A hand uncurls from his shirt to grip at the back of his head instead. Caleb imagines Molly with knees bent and a hand fisted around his swollen dick, and he rushes to muffle his strangled moan against the crux of Molly’s thigh.

He wants nothing more than to take the flushed, rigid thing into his mouth and bring Mollymauk all the pleasure he deserves. Wants to bring Molly off to a quick and desperate orgasm, but he forces himself to have some restraint. He leans in, Mollymauk whimpering at the feeling of hot breath along his cock, and kisses the base, feeling Molly shiver all around him as he does. So he does it again. And again and again, kissing his way to the tip of his cock, his head now forming the tent in Molly’s skirt. Caleb gives the tip one shy lick, gathering the sharp taste of it on his tongue, before parting his lips and sliding down the length of him.

Molly thighs go tense around him as hands descend upon his head, scrabbling to find a hold in his hair through the fabric of the skirt. Caleb can hear the way his breath has grown ragged, sharp and desperate, feels the slight quiver in his hips under his hands as he fights to hold them still for Caleb. Caleb draws the flat of his tongue along the underside, eliciting a full body shudder from the man above him.

Only now does Caleb realize that he’s played himself. While under the skirt like this has undoubtedly been sexy, he realizes he's cut himself off from Molly’s pleasure. With no real voice to express it, all Caleb can hear are the sharp, strangled breaths as they catch in Molly’s throat. But he can’t see him. he can't see his face tight with need, a thin line of pleasure creased between his brows. Can’t see the way his mouth hangs open as he pants with it. Can’t watch what the feeling of his lips wrapped around his dick do to him. His head thrown back against the wall, eyes clouding over with desire as Caleb draws those high pitched and keening cries from him. Gods he wishes he could hear him. The deep belly groans and the shouts of pleasure as Caleb sucks him off are a phantom ringing his ears. He grips tighter to Molly’s thighs as the other man’s hips start to thrust forward of their own accorded, and draws back to lick over the head with the flat of his tongue. There’s a disappointed huff of air above him, and Caleb’s lips curl up in a smile.

“You know I do not mean to tease you.” he says, a bold face lie that Mollymauk is not convinced by.

The mermaid whines, a high shrieking sound, and he thrust his hips forward, cock bobbing eagerly into empty air.

“Hush libling.” he soothes, even as his thumbs rubs deep circles into his trembling thighs and his lips ghost over the underside of his cock. “I will see to it that you are taken care of, ja?”

And he does makes good on the promise, taking Molly back into his mouth as far as he can. Sucking roughly as he own resolves begins to break, and bobbing his head up and down the length of him until his jaw is aching in the sweetest way. Above him he can hear Molly’s breath grow shallow and quick. Each breath a gasp and squeak of pleasure as his hands grip tighter to the back of Caleb’s head and his hips move in small aborted thrusts to meet his lips. Caleb takes him deep into his mouth and holds him there in the warm wet heat of it. Until the taste of spending grows sharp against his tongue and Molly’s legs start to quiver, and he quickly releases him.

“Hhhhhaa!”

The sound the leaves Molly’s throat nearly topples Caleb with need. He has to reach down and grip himself through his trousers just to take the edge off his own painfully hard desire. Molly’s cock twitches weeps, a painful looking bruise color now, ball loosening as he draws back from the very edge of his orgasm.

‘Hhhaa haa haaaa”

Even his breathless panting sounds so ruined, and Caleb feels his chest filled with pity and affection. How long had Molly teased himself before seeking him out? How long hand he let his fingers linger on himself before drawing them away in favor of the touch of Caleb’s hand?

“Hush mein Stern” he mutters. He presses a soft kiss to the inside of Molly’s thigh and he jumps at the contact. “Hush Schatzie” he coos, drawing back from under the skirt. “I want to see you.”

Loose plum curls hang over Molly’s eyes and stick to the back of his neck, matted with sweat. His arms quiver and his chest heaves and a flush stains his skin a startling shade of wine from the tops of his cheeks all the way down to his belly. His lips partly slightly, his eyes glassy and features pinched tight with need.

“Ahh ahh”

Tears prick at the corners of his eyes and sweat dews along his skin and suddenly Caleb feels a bit bad for teasing him so much.

“Oh Mollymauk.” he murmurs, pushing himself to stand so that he can cup the other man’s face between his hands.

Molly wastes no time pressing up into the touch. His hands scramble to find purchase on Caleb, tangled in his hair and gripping at the front of his shirt. He whines as he pulls Caleb in, pulling them flush so the can press up desperately into his chest and stares at him with wide pleading eyes. Trying to beg without words. Caleb is quick to draw him in for a kiss, pushing his tongue past the seam of Molly’s mouth so he can taste himself on Caleb’s lips, and Molly groans.

“I want to see you” he repeats, shoving the skirt to the side and taking Molly in hand with little preamble. Molly arcs wildly against his chest. Caleb loops his arm around his waist as he strokes him in earnest now, laying kisses over his jaw. “Mollymauk,,,,,”

“Haaaaa!”

It only takes a few rough strokes to bring Molly to completion. He trembles in Caleb’s arms as his cock leaps in his fist and hot and sticky cover Caleb’s fingers and Molly’s stomach and the skirt too. Caleb gently eases him though it, touching featherlight to his softening dick and kissing his cheeks and his temple until Molly stops shaking in his grasp. When he draws back, Molly is smiling at him, exhausted but content, eyes half lidded and heavy. Caleb’s heart swells and he rushes forward to kiss him, chastely. “You are lovely, mein Schatz.” he says as they draw back. “Was that ahh- that was alright?”

Molly nods languidly, wrapping his arms around the back of Caleb’s neck. Eventually his chest stops heaving and the flush starts to leave his cheeks. Molly droops forward into Caleb’s shoulder and he can't help but chuckle. “Tired?’ he asks. Again Molly nods. “I suppose I ought to get you to bed then.” another nod.

So Caleb helps him down from the desk onto his shaking legs and lays a hand against the small of his back to steady him. They're About halfway down the hall to Molly’s room when Caleb feels a tap on his shoulder He turns, giving Mollymauk a questioning look. The mermaid smiles a tired, but knowing smile at him.

“Again?” he signs.

Caleb feels his flagging erection leap at the single word. He swallows around his suddenly dry throat.

“Gods, Mollymauk,,” He glances at the clock. The girls are not due to be back for another few hours. “I suppose there’s ahhh- time for a bit more “research’,,,” he says in a rush

Molly throws his head back in the silent laugh and Caleb hurries them down the hall.

#widomauk #mermauk au #m rated yall

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mollymauk-teafleak · 6 years ago

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my heart is hitting the ground (Chapter One)

An urban fantasy/college Widomauk AU! Many many many thanks to the wonderful @minky-for-short for getting me into this podcast in the first place and workshopping this fic with me. Also enormous thanks to the amazingly talented @rabdoidal whose fantastic art this fic is based on but I could honestly write a multi-chapter fic on every bit of fan art he’s ever done, it’s all that great.

Please consider reblogging and leaving me some feedback!

Ao3 | Ko-fi

Caleb Widoghast isn't the kind of guy who blows off studying and goes out a lot. He isn't the kind of guy to get too drunk at the gig for some college band he's never heard of. He isn't the kind of guy to fall hopelessly in love with the tiefling singer of said band and flirt with him after way too much whiskey.

Caleb Widoghast wakes up to find that, last night, he did exactly that. And now he has to deal with the fallout.

The night before came back to Caleb in pieces, each one worse than the last.

The dry mouth. The pounding headache. The fact that he was still wearing jeans under the covers but no shirt at all. The ringing ears.

He moaned and pushed the hair back from his forehead, wrinkling his nose at the almost immediate reek of whiskey. Why the hell was he drinking whiskey, he never…

And then the last piece fell into place. And Caleb seriously considered diving back down underneath his blankets and never emerging again.

“Good morning!”

Of course, no knock preceded his bedroom door flinging open with a bang that made his eardrums throb, the only person it could be was Nott and courtesy wasn’t her strong suit. They’d known each other too long for that.

“I am…struggling to see what’s good about it,” Caleb groaned, pulling a face as the sound that came out of him sounded more like the last gasps of a dying squeaky toy.

Nott smirked at him from the cavernous hood of her sweatshirt, “M’kay, before you ask, let’s just do this all in one. Yes, you did get horrendously drunk. Yes, it was bad. And yes, Beau has video.”

Caleb slumped back into the tangled mess of his bedding, whimpering pathetically, “That’s it. I’m done with civilisation. I’m going to live in the woods and be a hermit and never speak to another person ever again. They will tell tales of me…”

Nott snorted, scrambling up on the end of his bed, “Aw, don’t be so dramatic. Beau had a few herself, it’s all shaky, you can barely see anything,” she took a sip of her tea, “Jester’s the one that got the really good shot…”

Caleb moaned again, louder as if making a point, dragging one of the pillows over his head.

His roommate couldn’t contain her giggles, though she tried to discreetly direct it into her mug, “The night wasn’t a total waste. You really seemed like you were having fun after about the third whiskey and coke. And you were really digging the band…”

Caleb threw his arm from his protective nest of blankets, accusatorily, “No! No, we are not talking about that!”

Nott held up her hands, “Hey, we all thought it was adorable! The way you kept ordering drinks so you could stand closer to the stage, I don’t think you ever heard a word anyone said…we knew you liked that kinda grungy, indie shit but we didn’t know you liked it that much!”

“Nott, I swear, I will kick you off this bed,” Caleb tried to snarl but it came out as more of a whimper, “Can you please take pity on me and make me some coffee?”

“Wish I could, big guy, but we’re all out,” the young goblin shrugged regretfully, “I think you used the last of it to get you through your last deadline.”

Caleb gave another miserable, frustrated groan, now at the world at large rather than Nott. That was just typical.

“Fine…fine, I’ll go get some,” he mumbled, trying to make his head stop throbbing long enough for him to tell up from down and roll out of bed, “Fresh air. it’ll be good for me. I think.”

“There ya go, positive attitude,” Nott grinned her ear to ear smile, hopping lightly back to the floor, somehow not spilling a single drop of tea to the carpet or, at least, what of it was visible beneath the piles of clothes and notebooks.

Her large ears pricked up as Caleb’s phone gave an annoyingly bright chirp, her smile turning playful and crooked, “If you need a refresher on what happened that night, I bet that’s it.”

Caleb frowned, pawing on his dresser until he found his phone, squinting blearily at it. Sure enough, there was a flurry of messages from his friends, a few pictures that seemed to show nothing but blurs and vague shapes that maybe could be him twirling around lampposts and trying to climb up onto a table. And a video. A few videos actually.

He felt his heart twist with that familiar and unpleasant acid of embarrassment as he studied the thumbnail of the first one. The purple tiefling, the singer, in all his colourful and coiffed glory, somehow still looking as drop dead gorgeous as he had the night before, even when recreated in blocky pixels. He was leaning against a large stacked speaker, an unmistakeably bemused expression on his face while some bedraggled, stooped hobo looking guy clung to a table for balance beside him. Caleb pinched the bridge of his nose and tossed the phone over his shoulder (though he was tempted to aim for the window) as it sunk in that it was him.

He hadn’t meant to go over and actually talk to the guy. He’d been perfectly content staying squeezed in between Fjord and Beau, subtly drooling and moony eyed over the front man who alternated between yelling his expletive filled song titles over the clamour of the close, smoky darkness of the bar and singing in a rough, low growl that had done things to Caleb that he really wasn’t ready to admit to. That would have been a perfect plan, maybe he’d daydream about him for a few weeks and months after before accepting that the tiefling was so far out of his league that it wasn’t even funny and sinking back into school work and vague loneliness.

But Caleb had found himself drifting back to the bar, where the view of the singer (Mollymauk, that was his name, Caleb wasn’t likely to forget it any time soon) with the spotlight hitting his exquisitely tattooed chest just right, looked like something from a goddamn renaissance painting. Instead of his usual half pints of what his friends insisted were pretentious hipster beers, Caleb had found himself ordering jack and cokes, eventually graduating to straight whiskeys after a while, hoping that the singer might notice and think him some cool cowboy type rather than the nervous exchange student in rumpled flannel that he was, who could launch into a full-on lecture about the benefits of different brewing techniques if given the slightest nudge.

Caleb blamed the whiskeys and the urging of his friends for the incredibly bad decision that followed the end of the set. He didn’t remember his words exactly, he just remembered a powerful need to go and tell this Mollymauk of the beautiful voice and extravagant dress sense just how much he’d loved his music. And he really had. He’d loved the rawness of it, the clever twists in the lyrics that sent the song suddenly careening in a direction no one would have guessed. He loved its simplicity, just that voice echoing through the underground bar and a simple guitar accompaniment from a very tall woman who’d had Beau staring in a very similar way to Caleb (he wondered why she wasn’t getting any shit for that…and then quickly realised it was probably because she hadn’t made a colossal ass of herself afterwards and because Beau getting heart eyes over a woman she’d only just met was nothing new). Caleb had never, ever found any music that had spoken to him like this stuff did; it make him feel less alone, less broken, less of an outsider. It had been a stronger magic to him than anything he read about in his schoolbooks and he’d fallen for it, hard and devastatingly.

All that would have been a great thing to tell Mollymauk, when Caleb had come staggering over from his table to where the tiefling was packing away his microphone. Unfortunately, what had come tumbling out of his mouth, as far as he could remember, was something about his music being so good that it had ‘given him a boner in his heart’.

Caleb thanked every god he’d ever heard of that he didn’t remember Mollymauk’s reaction, feeling a sickness in his stomach that had nothing to do with his hangover.

“Did you get the one of you doing Singing in the Rain in German?” Nott chirped happily, still in the doorway, swaying in her sweatshirt so long it brushed her knees, the one she always wore, “I never knew you had such a good voice.”

Caleb grumbled at her, glaring with bleary eyes, waving his hand dismissively, “Go. I need to shower…why do I need to shower so bad?”

“Oh,” Nott shrugged, “Probably because you climbed into the dumpster thinking it was the cab.”

Caleb dragged his hand through his long hair, which had taken on the consistency of a reddish brown, greasy birds nest, “Do us all a favour, Nott, and just leave me in the gutter next time. This was an absolute disaster.”

His roommate gave him a look he didn’t understand before disappearing around the corner, “Are you sure?” she called behind her.

That look and those words continued to confuse Caleb until he was in the bathroom, wondering if he should just burn his clothes and have done with it, when he caught sight of his own reflection above the sink. Not a pretty sight on any day and even less now in Caleb’s opinion, but his aching eyes were distracted. By the series of numbers written on his forehead in a flourishing hand, in thick black Sharpie.

Ah. Now Caleb remembered pressing the pen into Mollymauk’s hand, asking him to write his number on his head so he wouldn’t forget it. The wizard slumped, letting his head knock against the cold porcelain of the sink.

Being a forest hermit was sounding more and more tempting every second.

#critical role #cr #widomauk #widowmauk #caleb widowghast #mollymauk tealeaf #nott the brave #jester #fjord #caleb/molly #modern au #urban fantasy au #college au

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moiraineswife · 7 years ago

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6 for Widomauk (Do your worst, pal)

(my WORST? oh….well then….)

Temporary character death ahead. Plus pain. Much pain.

Widomauk + 6: “Am I going to die?”

Molly’s hands were covered in blood.

This was nothing new. He had come into this world covered in blood, and he’d likely leave it that way, too. He’d made his peace with that some time ago.

Most nights he went to sleep with dried blood crusted on his purple skin, sticking to his clothes, stinging as he peeled it away.

His power thrummed through his blood, demanding that he spill it.

He was no stranger to the sight of blood on his hands.

But how they shook now, violent as though there was a thunderstorm inside his bones. Once so dexterous, now they slipped and fumbled and fell.

Crimson pushed between his fingers, like waves pushed between narrow rocks with each pulsing heartbeat of the ocean. But the ocean was dying. The heartbeat was slowing. The pulses were getting weaker and weaker, he could feel it.

“No,” he whispered hoarsely, hands shaking still more as panic seized him, thrusting away the numbness of a few moments before. “No, no, no, no, no-” The repetition of that word became a rhythm, a song, and it rose to a mindless howl in the night as he pressed his hands harder against the tear in skin, as if he could will it closed once more.

It started to rain.

The freezing drops fell lightly from the sky, dropping onto his head, like friendly little kisses from above.

He had loved the rain, once. When he had first been getting a sense of himself, getting his bearings in this strange new world it had been a comfort, a reminder that this earth was as vibrantly alive as he was.

Now that rain felt like the echoes of a heaven that mourned a loss it already knew was coming, a loss that he was about to endure.

The rain splattered down onto the wizard’s face and he steered feebly. His eyes fluttered, then opened. The piercing blue that looked like oceans Molly had never seen, but one day he’d promised himself he would, stared up into his own once more.

Together, their eyes moved to the deep gash in the human’s chest, which Molly’s hands were still pressed down onto. As though that would help.

Keep pressure on the wound. Someone had told him that, once, a hundred life times ago. Yasha, perhaps. That was what he was doing. That was what he had to do. Keep pressure on the wound, just keep pressure on the wound. It would be alright. He would be alright. They would be alright if he just, just kept pressure on the wound.

Caleb choked weakly, a small dribble of blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

Impulse made Molly want to reach up and wipe it away but no, no. He had to, had to keep pressure, keep pressure on the, on the-

“Mollymauk,” Caleb whispered, hoarsely.

“Shh,” Molly whispered to him, pressing harder still, bracing himself up on his knees. “You shouldn’t- Shouldn’t talk now.” His tongue felt thick and feeble, the way it had those first few days when he’d crawled out of that grave, and he shook himself, refusing to let himself succumb to that past, that, that emptiness.

“I doubt that there will be time for it later,” he wheezed back in reply.

“Don’t say that,” Molly snapped, his voice both stronger in its fierceness, and weaker as it broke.

A tear stung at the corner of his eye. He blinked. He hoped the rain hid it from Caleb as it slid down his cheek anyway.

“Molly,” he whispered, voice trembling, and his eyes met Molly’s for a moment, for just as long as it took to breathe, “Am I going to die?”

“No,” Molly snarled at him, fingers curling against the wound, blood leaking between them again, “No, you’re damn well not going to die on me, Caleb Widogast. Don’t you dare, don’t you, don’t you even think about it. You’re stuck with me whether you like it or not, you bastard, you promised me-”

His voice broke and he swallowed down past the tight lump in his throat, giving him a tiny shake as he repeated, forcing himself to get the words out this time, no matter how they stung.

“You promised me.”

One corner of Caleb’s mouth twitched up in a faint smile and, from somewhere, he found the strength to raise one of his hands and gently cup Molly’s face.

It started to slip a moment later, blood followed in the wake of his fingers, marking his cheek like war paint. Before it could fall, however, Molly took one of his hands away from the ruin of his partner’s chest and caught his fingers, holding them firm against his face.

Caleb’s breathing was ragged and strained as he manged to get out, “And you…You made me a promise, too, Mollymauk. Do you remember?”

“I always keep my promises,” he choked out, squeezing Caleb’s hand.

“No,” Caleb rasped, shaking his head faintly. He gave another sad little smile and sad, “You promised me…That you would never…Never lie to me. Remember?”

Tears were falling from Molly’s eyes thick and fast now, blurring with the rain as he trembled. “I never did,” he choked thickly, “I never lied to you.”

Caleb smiled, still more sadly, his fingers flexing gently against Molly’s cheek as he whispered, “Then you are lying…To yourself.”

Molly choked on a fresh wave of tears, forcing them back as he squeezed Caleb’s hand more tightly than life itself, “It’s going to be fine,” he whispered, “It’s all going to be fine, I promise, I promise. I’ll fix it. I’ll fix it. I’ll fix this, I promise, I promise, I-”

“Mollymauk,” Caleb interrupted, quietly, halting his terrified babbling. “You only need to promise me one thing in this moment.”

“Anything,” he breathed, adjusting his grip on Caleb’s hand, still holding it against his cheek.

The warmth was already starting to leave it.

“Anything you want, darling.”

“Stay with me,” Caleb rasped to him, “Promise you will stay with me until…Until the end.”

“Caleb-” Molly gasped, losing the battle against his own grief and allowing it to spill from him once more.

“That will be enough,” Caleb whispered, his eyes fluttering closed once more, “That will be everything.”

“No!” Molly screamed as Caleb’s chest stilled.

He dropped the hand he’d had holding Caleb’s against his cheek and it fell limply to the mud they were both sprawled in.

He shook him, hopelessly, repeating his name, over and over and over again, like a child that could not comprehend life, or loss, like a child that believed that if he willed something hard enough, reality would reshape itself to suit his needs.

He could no longer tell the rain from the tears upon his face. Both blinded him, as he clutched at the body of the man he loved, the man he would not lose. Not like this. Not like this.

Pressure. Pressure. Some impulse in the back of his mind overrode everything, overrode grief, overrode sense, overrode his very existence. It took control of him, like a marionette that had finally found the right strings to pull to make him act. He had to, had to put pressure on the wound. That was why- He had stopped. He had to keep doing that, had to keep doing that until Jester got here, had to-

The next thing he was aware of were hands, hands larger and rougher than Caleb’s, but still surprisingly gentle, for all their size, taking him by the shoulders.

“Molly.”

His own voice felt foreign in his ears, as though he had become numb even to himself in this moment. The only word there was, the only word he needed was the only one on his lips, the one he repeated over and over again like a heartbeat.

Caleb.

“Molly,” the voice repeated, more urgently this time.

Some distant part of his mind stirred this time. Yasha, it said, this was Yasha.

He swayed slightly on the spot, but otherwise made no effort to answer.

“Molly, come on,” the voice was as rough but oddly gentle as the hands that were still on his shoulders.

“Caleb,” he mumbled, thickly, and then, with great effort, “No.”

“I know,” the voice that belonged to Yasha said, “I know, but just, just come with me, just for a moment.”

“Caleb,” he said again, shaking his head this time, because she clearly didn’t understand. “Caleb,” he gripped him more tightly, to emphasise his point.

“Molly,” Yasha whispered, even her strong, sure voice breaking just a little as she squeezed at his shoulder, “Molly, there’s nothing you can do.”

There was, there was and he was damn well doing it. He’d made a promise. He’d made a promise that he wouldn’t leave. He’d made a damn promise.

“No,” he said again, shaking his head more vigorously and trying to pull away from her.

“You can’t help him now,” Yasha breathed. “I’m sorry, Molly, I’m sorry, but he’s-”

“No,” he said again, no more loudly, or aggressively than he had done a moment before, but he interrupted her all the same. He did not want to hear that word. He would not hear that word.

“I’m sorry,” Yasha whispered again, and then her arms moved down and wrapped around his chest, almost like an embrace, until she began to pull him away, and then he understood just what she was sorry for.

“No!” he screamed again, writhing furiously in her grasp, but she was far stronger than him, and always had been, and she lifted him easily away. “No!” Molly howled again, clawing furiously at the air, as though he could gain purchase on it and drag himself back to Caleb. He had to get back to Caleb, he had to get back to him, he had to-

Yasha began to step away from Caleb, taking him with her, and he redoubled his efforts, cursing and snarling at her in Infernal, digging his claws deeply into her flesh until he drew blood he couldn’t see from the tears and the rage that blinded him, but that he could feel gushing over his already crimson hands.

“I promised him,” he screamed at her, straining against her hold, against her calm, against the stoic, solid way she carried him away, as though the whole fucking world hadn’t just collapsed in on itself, forgetting to take him with it.

“I promised him,” he wheezed, the grief snuffing out his rage like a candle before a hurricane, as Yasha lowered them both down to the ground and held him, just held him, rocking him gently like a child as he sobbed in her arms and whispered over and over and over again, in every language he knew, “I promised him.”

Jester found them first. She had no doubt seen the blood it looked like Molly had drowned in and scampered over, looking concerned.

“Are you hurt?” she asked him, kneeling down in front of him.

Yasha released him just slightly, wanting to allow Jester to tend to him, and that was all he needed for clarity to return to him.

Springing up so suddenly he startled both women, he seized Jester’s wrist and began to tug her back to the road. How he knew where he was going, how he had any idea which direction to lead her in, he had no idea, but he found Caleb without any difficulty at all, lying exactly where he had left him.

“Help,” he breathed imploringly to Jester, tugging on her arm and trying to drag her closer as she stood still as though she’d been recently turned to stone by the sight of Caleb. “Help,” he repeated, trying to drag her closer as she stubbornly refused to move.

Molly didn’t understand. She was the cleric, she was their cleric, this was what she had to do, this was her job, this was his only hope, she had to, she had to.

“Molly-” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion, Yasha standing like a shadow just behind her, watching with her mismatched eyes full of a heavy, haunted sadness Molly had never seen in them before.

He wanted to scream at her. He wanted to scream at both of them. He needed them. Caleb needed them and they were just, just standing there, staring at him like ghosts at a wake, present but helpless.

“Help,” he repeated, more urgently, trying, once again, to pull her nearer. “Please.”

“Molly,” she said again, voice breaking. She freed her wrist from his grasp and held his hand instead, squeezing tight as tears continued to roll down her cheeks. “Molly I, I can’t, I-”

“Help him!” Molly shouted at her, tearing his hand from hers. He didn’t want her to hold his hand, he didn’t want her to hold him, he just wanted her to do her goddamn job because this wasn’t it, this couldn’t be it, she had to, she had to-

Yasha stepped forwards as Molly moved towards Jester. She placed a hand on his shoulder and looked down into his eyes, her own seemingly full of all the sorrow the world had ever known.

“Mollymauk-” she began, so gently that it shattered him.

He shook his head, words utterly failing him, “I promised him,” he signed to her, “I keep my promises.”

She shook her head, as though reading his mind, his heart, and knowing just what he planned, reaching for his hand and holding it.

He pulled it back to sign to her, “Stay with him?”

She stared at him long and hard, the only sound between them the rain that still lashed their bodies. Then, finally, she nodded.

Without another look, or thought, Molly had bounded to the edge of the camp and swung himself up onto his horse. He turned it sharply, and galloped back towards Zadash at a near frightening pace, as though trying to race the very winds themselves.

An hour later, the echoing crash of a door melded with the thunder that had begun as he had ridden. Lightning flashed, illuminating his silhouette in the doorway, like a true demon that had clawed itself now from hell, as well as the grave.

The sound made the tabaxi sitting at the small desk to jump. There was the tinkle of shattering glass as a vial slipped from her hands. She opened her mouth to shout for help, but Molly had already strode into the room and, recognising his face gilded by the soft candlelight she’d been working by, she relaxed slightly.

She opened her mouth to greet him, but he interrupted her, “Where is she?”

His voice was raw and hoarse, as though his throat had been dragged across hot coals, but he paid it no mind.

“Lucien?” she repeated, blankly, a look of concern spreading across her features.

The name that once would have felt like a lash across his back, splitting him open, now barely registered against the grief that was driving him to the very edge of madness.

“The woman that performed the ritual on me,” he said, struggling to keep the growl from his words, “The night I died and you buried me and left me for dead, that woman, you remember?” The tabaxi nodded tremulously, eyes wide, staring at Molly as though he had gone mad. Perhaps he had. He found he didn’t care very much. “Where is she?”

“Lucien-” Cree began.

Without breaking eye contact, Molly drew one of his swords across his back and let it flare with radiant power.

As his blood dripped onto her floor, he held the point against Cree’s throat.

“Where is she?” he repeated again, the words as calm and dead as any he had ever uttered, “I won’t ask again. But I’m not leaving here until you tell me. You understand?”

****

The room smelled like blood.

In hindsight, he wasn’t sure what he’d else expected. It was dark, and dank. The sound of a rat skittering across the floor in search of crumbs was the only sound until he pushed the door open.

The woman hunched over the table didn’t so much as blink.

“I thought you’d come,” she said. Her voice was soft and rasping, like the tip of a blade being drawn across old bones. It seemed to come to him from beyond the grave. He shivered.

“Good,” he said, abruptly, “Then you know why I’m here, I don’t have to waste time explaining.”

“Perhaps you should,” she said, still not looking up at him, “I find it the best way to ensure there are no misunderstandings.”

She was writing, he saw, her quill scratching against a piece of weathered parchment. The familiarity of the sight made the remnants of his heart tighten painfully in his hollow chest.

“If you don’t put down that fucking quill and come with right now, I will kill you where you sit,” Molly spat at her, in Infernal, activating one of his swords and letting its radiant glow fill the black room around them.

That made her pause. Slowly, deliberately, she laid down her quill, then turned to look at him. She appeared middle-aged, strikingly beautiful, with raven-black hair, and green eyes that were slitted like a snake’s.

“You would try,” she said, in that voice that made his skin crawl, that he was sure would haunt his nightmares if he lived past tonight. “And you would fail. And then what?”

“And then I would be with him again,” Molly said, fighting not to let his grief bleed into his words, but failing all the same.

She got to her feet. She was taller than him, her body slender and sinuous, and she moved with a serpentine grace as she walked towards him, completely disregarding the drawn sword in his hand.

She touched a finger to his chest, then flattened her palm against it, right over his heart. It beat now, faster, and more violently than it had ever done.

“That’s right,” he whispered to her, “I’m alive. I’m here. I know what power you wield, so don’t try and bullshit me. I want you to bring him back, truly bring him back, not as some undead monster, but as him, and I know that you can do it.”

She met his eyes, and stared at him long and hard.

“And what will you give me in return?” she asked, voice cool and calm as she cocked her head to one side, staring at him with those serpent’s eyes, unblinking.

“Anything,” he said, without hesitation.

She laughed softly, the sound like two rocks clacking against one another. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. This woman was old, far older than she appeared, and she was terrible, perhaps more-so than anything else. In any other moment, under any other circumstances, she would have terrified him, and he would have run from her.

But her power, her existence, relied upon people like him, and upon the desperation that love drove people to, the love that drove people to the kind of singular madness that was the only force powerful enough in the world to bring them to her.

“Be careful what you say within these walls, boy,” she told him, “Words have power, here, and you may find yourself ensnared by a bargain that it is worse than death to break. Choose your words with more caution, and answer me again. What will you give me, if I grant you this boon, and return him to you?”

“Anything,” he said, yet again, without any more hesitation than he had answered her with the first time.

She laughed softly again.

His hand began to tremble, “I have gold, gems, jewels, enchanted objects beyond price. You can take whatever you want from me, I don’t care.”

“So hasty to bargain away all that you have, and all that you are,” she said, silkily cocking her head to one side and smiling at him. Her tongue was forked. “What is your great rush, Mollymauk Tealeaf? There is time.”

“And every minute of it I spend in a world without him in it is wasted,” he shot back with a low snarl. “What do you want? My blood? My swords? My service? My fucking soul? You can have it. You can have anything. Is that plain enough for you? Are those words powerful enough for you? You can have anything you damn well want from me if you bring him back to me, you can-”

She moved so fast his eyes couldn’t follow it. Her fingers closed tightly around his wrist, her nails piercing him. Pain burst through him, beginning at the spot where she touched him and exploding through his body like a crack of lightning.

He only had time to register the tiny snake etched onto his wrist like a brand before her grip on him tightened even more and then he knew nothing but darkness.

His lungs expanded gratefully with cold air, and the rain was suddenly crashing down against his body once more, each frozen droplet reminding him with agonising clarity that he was alive. Alive. When Caleb was not.

Blinking and hearing the sound of a sword being drawn from its sheath, he shook his head and forced himself to take in his surroundings. He was back. Back on that lonely little rode where the unthinkable had happened, where he was about to witness the impossible.

Caleb still lay, exactly where he had left him, blood starting to dry on his coat, Yasha standing over him. It was she who had drawn her sword.

“It’s okay, Yash,” he whispered hoarsely, staggering forwards.

She did not sheathe her blade, and she did not tear her eyes from the woman who was standing just behind him, having brought them here with her magic, no doubt.

“Who are you?” Yasha demanded of the woman.

She made no answer.

Yasha took a step forward, but Molly planted himself between her and Caleb.

“Do it,” he said, not looking away from his friend’s face.

“What have you done?” she whispered to him, growing horror flooding her face.

“What I had to,” he replied.

Then he turned away from her and ran to Caleb, falling into the mud beside him.

Tenderly, as though he were a baby bird that had fallen from its nest, Molly gently lifted him, cradling him against his body. He was cold and still, and there was a strange sort of peace that had settled over his face in death.

Molly closed his eyes, unable to bear looking at him a moment longer while he was like this.

“Please,” he whispered to the woman behind him, head still bowed over Caleb, tears escaping from beneath his eyelids once more.

He didn’t even know her name. He found that he didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything but the man he held in his arms.

She stepped closer, and he heard her kneel down beside them. Molly forced himself to open his eyes and watch her as she placed her hands on Caleb’s ravaged chest.

Then she began to chant softly under her breath in Celestial. Molly’s breath caught in his throat. He felt Yasha freeze behind them, staring at the ritual that was taking place.

Swallowing thickly, he joined in her chanting. His Celestial was broken at best, despite Yasha’s best teaching, but the melody drew him in, and the warmth and emotion and power that radiated from the spell around them carried him.

After almost an hour, in which Molly’s knees were numb, and his throat was raw, the woman suddenly stopped singing.

He still cradled Caleb in his arms, still and cold as he had ever been.

He turned, snarling, tears of mingled agony and fury splashing from his eyes.

But the woman spoke before he could. “Never forget the debt that you owe me, Mollymauk Tealeaf,” she told him, gravely.

Before he could say another word, she vanished.

He was distracted from the agonised howl that was building in his throat at the certainty that his only, last, dreadful hope had gone, when he heard Caleb cough hoarsely in his arms, and the rest of the world vanished in a moment.

“Caleb,” he rasped, tears welling again in his eyes, but this time tears of relief and joy, as he felt the wizard’s thin chest rising and falling against him once more. He placed a hand over his chest and felt his heart beating, strong and reassuring, beneath. “Caleb,” he whispered again, reverent as any prayer he had ever made to his beloved Moonweaver.

Caleb stirred and Molly held him, gently stroking a hand through his hair the way he knew he liked, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, a soft, hysterical laugh bursting from him.

The wizard opened his eyes, fogged and confused as he blinked and shuffled in Molly’s harms.

“Enough of that, now, darling,” Molly told him through another laugh that bubbled up from his chest, the broad smile spreading across his chest as those bright blue eyes pierced him again, a sight he’d thought he’d never see again while life remained to him. “You need your rest, you know.”

Caleb seemed to come to the same thought as it left Molly’s lips, and slumped in his arms once more, exhausted. His eyes focused on Molly again as Molly laid a tender, clawed hand on his cheek. It was still covered in his blood. Molly trembled, but forced himself to smile, not thinking of that.

Caleb gazed up at him, blinking himself back to consciousness, still.

When at last he was able to speak, he whispered, hoarsely, “Who…Are you?”

******

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dathen · 6 years ago

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I think bc a lot of her character background and her personality suggest things that aren’t reflected in her art? Like I would see someone who is used to being lavished with every kind of expensive gift growing up and who would dress horses up in pretty clothes having a much showier and frillier sense of fashion, while her canon outfit design is pretty practical and muted. She also covered every finger in rings at her first opportunity and yet has about 1/50th the jewelry as Mr. Mollymauk? tsk tsk

Also I love designs that give her longer/wilder hair; she seems the sort who loves to play with hair (braiding Caleb’s at every opportunity, for instance) and her having short hair that she doesn’t do much with doesn’t give much opportunity for that. Added to the first point, I could see her having an attempt at really intricate hair styles that are hopelessly messed up from battles and travel but she is 1000% unconcerned bc she’s pretty sure she’s just pioneering a new Look

AND MOST IMPORTANTLY I am ten thousand percent here for buff tuff Jester, give that girl some biceps!!! (ง’̀-‘́)ง

The canon design is adorable, but safe and dainty, and definitely not what I would have pictured from listening to the show--so similarly to the cr1 characters I love seeing other interpretations

(I also forgot about Caleb as a kind-of exception, like I like designs that give him redder hair/different facial structure and so on, but that’s mainly bc reinterpretations still keep the important points of “grubby dumpster wizard” and “looks like he’s just seen a ghost or ten”)

#also she looks SUPER YOUNG in it like teenage or very early 20s but given laura is keeping her age a secret maybe that's accurate?#critical role #jester #i am oddly scared of fans for saying this idk

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thatonesadending · 4 years ago

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After being set adrift as a sheep in the astral sea, and making it into this strange city that they had followed Lucien into, Caleb is left alone with his thoughts and suspicions on what's really going on in Lucien's head. Can he bring all of his friends safely home while not being able to use the magic that Lucien can so easily dispel.

Or in other words. How Caleb defeats Lucien with a kiss, and ends up with two magical purple men by his side. Oh and it was really Sprinkles that saved the day!

He liked being a sheep. It was almost peaceful, floating in the astral sea without a thought in his fuzzy head. The tumbling only made him a little dizzy, but other than the occasional shout of his companions, his mind was quiet. He would like it to stay that way, maybe.

But of course, that was not in his cards. Beau had grabbed him by the wool shortly after she had come through the gate, keeping him from straying too far. He didn't mind the rough yank from her, or even mini Veth clinging to him as they sailed towards the city. But Jester's aggressive petting once they reached their destination was a little much. He very much didn't like when she put Sprinkle/Artigone on his back and declared them "best furry friends", and the damn fey weasel began tunneling through his wool coat trying to tickle him. Essek had wordlessly picked up the small fey and handed it back to Jester, while stroking Caleb's woolen head, and apparently ignoring the others as they bickered about a plan.

Sheep are not very smart, so it took Caleb a very long time to realize Essek was petting him. And even longer to realize he was bleeding fairly heavily. Suddenly, whatever wild magic had changed his form evaporated and Caleb was himself again, on his hands and knees in this mysterious magical city, and Essek's hand midway through carding his hair.

"Oh, apologies." Essek snatched his hand back before Caleb could even process their positions. The movement had obviously hurt whatever injury the Dow was suffering through, but before he could comment on it, Jester was calling out to him.

"Oh good, you are back! You were really really cute as a sheep Caleb, but you couldn't cast the tower. Can you do that, and we can do the hero's feast, and rest, and -" Fjord cut her off.

"Jes, we might need to figure out where Lucien and Cree went first before we are safe taking a long rest."

Right. Lucien.

The whole reason that being a sheep had been initially a very nice experience. He could stop thinking about Lucien. And, well, what wasn't Lucien.

"You good?" Beau was in his head, and he turned his head to look for her and realize he was still on his hands and knees next to Essek. As the embarrassment crawled up his neck, and thump his ass to the ground and took a moment before responding.

"Is good even an option at the moment?"

"Fair. But like, right now, you are in check? That was pretty reckless teleporting like that."

Caleb found her standing 10 feet away, shifting uncomfortably and staring at him. Instead of answering he just nodded his head, he wasn't sure if it was a lie or not but Beau took it.

They had decided that the tower wouldn't be a good idea until they knew they were safe, and the dome and a short rest would have to do for now. They had set up their quick camp in between two of the unfamiliar buildings, thinking that to be safer than out in the open. The alley was only 15 feet wide, but opened out to two large streets that hopeful they could get away quickly if need be. Caleb was not really paying attention though, all of his swirling thoughts and overthinking came back. What they were facing was …. daunting. There were too many unknowns, questions, and possibilities to think through and make a plan. Lucien has proven to be incredibly powerful, but also impossibly confusing. None of them really knew what he wanted, or why he wanted them to be there to watch. Whatever it was, it could not be good.

Lucien said he wanted to make dreams come true through his reign, it was vague and threatening enough to send a chill through Caleb’s spiking hope. Caleb had only one dream at that moment, and that was that all of his friends made it safely home from Aeor alive. All of them. It was an impossible dream, especially since he wasn't sure how many friends he had here in this strange city.

A purple hand was resting on his knee as he sat in the dome, eating and tuning out the Mighty Nein’s arguing. Caducess had healed Essek as much as he was able, but the other wizard was still clearly very tired and out of his element. It was the second time that day Essek had reached out to Caleb, well if you could count petting him through his shock of the battle, while Caleb was numbly enjoying being a mindless sheep. Normally this would have caused a little rumble of warmth and pleasure in Caleb’s chest. They had been through so much as of late, and despite it all, Caleb would be lying if he said he wasn't beginning to feel more than just friendship for the other man. However, right now, the sight of those purple fingers touching him was causing his vision to become watery, and his chest tighten with anxiety.

They were reminding him of the one thought he didn't want to dwell on, the dangerous suspicion he had not said out loud yet to anyone. They reminded him of a very different friendship that, while short, had influenced almost every choice he had made in the last year or so. Had encouraged him to see himself as more than just the worthless scars of his past, worthy of love and caring from his friends, and to leave things better than when he found them. These dark purple hands brought back memories of lavender ones that were quick to help him up when he had fallen, slap him when he was lost, and to embrace him when he was lonely. A lavender that now was being worn by a man that did not deserve them, or the memories attached to them that he claimed not to have, but still seemed to affect him.

Caleb said nothing, not just for fear of how the others would react, but how it might be their undoing. He had tested this theory a few times now, with different degrees of success. The other’s had too, but he wasn't sure they had known what they could be doing at the time. Beau couldn't help annoying Lucien, it was just in her nature. And Jester, how for all the God’s she had pulled those cards was beyond him, but it had clearly had an effect. And now, despite having multiple opportunities, Lucien had not killed them, but rather invited them to the show. But what if ….

No, he couldn't think about that, he had to push it aside. If him and his found family were going to make it through this alive, he could not continue to entertain this dangerous thought. They - he - had to focus on the problem at hand, and that was what they were going to do next time -

“So you have paid for your ticket I see. Why don't you come see the preview of my show?”

You would have thought a spell had been cast to turn Caleb and Beau into stone, for how suddenly ridged they had gotten. It was too soon. They hadn't had any time to rest, plan, they could not survive another brutal confrontation. Essek’s hand tightened on Caleb’s knee, a silent quention, one that he didn't have an answer for. He slowly met Beau’s eyes from across the dome where she sat next to a very nervous Yasha.

“I promise, you all will make it to the main event, as long as you come and be a friend.”

“Beau, is it him? Is it - is it Lucien?” Yasha was strong, but her normally quiet voice that was now shaking was giving away how distressed she was. Caleb knew this had been all very hard for her, watching Lucian reak havoc on them while wearing the face of her oldest friend. It was part of why Beau, wanting so badly to comfort her new girlfriend, had been extremely cautious as of late, trying to minimize the damage when possible. However, she was clearly losing her cool at the moment. Beau was firmly holding on to Caleb’s attention as the now visible anger was tensing all of her muscles, causing her words to be more spat than spoken.

“The dick couldn’t even let us eat in piece before fucking around with us again.”

The dome was very quiet, as they all were incredibly aware how vulnerable they were, and how they couldnt even tuck tail and run if they wanted. They were not just tired, but not nearly healed enough, and so emotionally worn out from the excitement of the day that none of them were capable of a wise thought. Maybe that's why he did it.

Caleb dispelled the dome and stood. It's not like the dome provided safety to them from Lucien if he wanted their attention, he would just dispel the magic. Besides, he couldn't leave it in place and do what he was about to.

“I will go speak with him. You all can stay here, it would be safer.” He said. Beau had already led the way once today, and she was clearly too wrung out to be asked to do that again. Lucien had not said all of them needed to go, and for whatever his promise was worth, he claimed not to want to hurt him yet.

“Like hell you will.” Veth had since returned to her normal size, but her shrill voice cut through all of the tenuous silence of the others, unleashing a new wave of arguing. Caleb was tired of the back and forth, the fear, the unknown. He just wanted to get this over with, and if the Gods had any mercy left, would get Lucien to leave them alone long enough to get a bit of sleep. Hell, if he had to welcome Lucien back in his tower so that he could get some rest so that he could think through whatever upcoming plans Lucien had, he was just about ready to do that.

The only one who caught him walking about from the group in the dark was Essek, the others too busy rehashing old plans they already knew weren't going to work. “Where do you think you are going?” He hissed in the dark as Caleb followed Lucien’s mental pull.

“I am going to get some answers. Please go back with the others, you will be safer.”

“Do not pretend to care for my safety when you are carelessly abandoning yours.” Essek could have just replied with a thought, but he did not, choosing to let his commanding voice echo in the dark, bouncing off the alley walls, destroying any chance Caleb had to slip away from the others.

Veth and Jester were already on their way to drag him back when they all saw the familiar pair of red glowing eyes heading towards them in the direction Caleb had been heading.

“I thought I would continue to be a gracious host and meet you halfway.” Lucien said aloud, his gaze trained on Caleb.

“How thoughtful.” Caleb didn't even try to contain his sarcastic weariness. “Where is Cree?” He had just needed a couple more hours of not thinking about this man, what the future held, and the danger they were all in. Just a couple of hours and then maybe Caleb could have thought of a plan for survival. As it was, Lucien was making large confidant strides towards him, and Caleb felt himself stumbling back to the others.

“She is waiting for me, getting the show prepared.” He offered, as though it was the only natural answer.

“What the fuck do you want Lucien? We followed you through, we haven't tried to attack you, should that earn a fucking moment for ourselves before you drag through whatever stupid shit you have planned?” Caleb had been right, Beau was not in the right frame of mind to be talking to Lucien right now. Maybe that was what he wanted though, his usual annoyance at her was missing, and he was grinning a fang laced snarl at her.

“Now, I promise you I have no ‘stupid shit’ planned.” He said, with an amused condescension that Caleb was sure irritated Beau as much as it did him.

“Are you patronizing me, Lucien? That’s two promises you have made in the last five minutes that I doubt you plan on fucking keeping.” She snapped back. The tieflings smile disappeared, replaced with confusion. Genuine shock at something Beau had said, his guard only dropped for a moment, and Caleb could swear those red pupiless eyes flickered for a moment. He had twitched again, but it faded, and with it lost any good humor he had.

“No, was hoping that you’re going to patronize me. Would rather me reward your group's bravery in joining me here to witness the greatness magic you’ll ever experience, with simply killing you before you get the chance? It would not change any of my plans.” His words came as a growl, a threat. That voice had once been on their side, threatening violence to those that aimed to hurt the Mighty Nien, not directed at them.

“No,” Caleb sighed, trying to gain back a bit of control. “We have come as requested as friends, not foe, for the time being.” The silence was heavy for a moment, the tension thick as none of the Nien knew how to proceed. Jester eventually spoke up.

“So, are you gonna like … tell us what’s going on or like whatever. Because if not, we would really like to finish eating.” Jester was trying to sound cheery, motivating Lucien with her effortless charm to give him more information. However, Caleb’s mind was still lingering on that twitch he had seen, just a moment ago. His suspicion was full force now in the front of his mind, he couldn't shake it, no matter how foolish or unlikely. Maybe his exhaustion was making him soft, it was definitely clouding his judgement, but a plan was starting to form in his head. A foolish plan. More of an experiment, but if was all he had without magic. Caleb was suddenly grateful for his perfect memory, the one that allowed him to remember every word those purple lips had ever spoken to him or around him. All of seemingly wise words and quickly spun bullshit.

“Now Jester, you know his mother always told him to never give away a story for free.” Caleb interjected before Lucien could respond. His red eyes snapped to him, but almost as soon as they did they unfocused. They were surely going to argue with him, ask him why he was appearing to take Lucien’s side, so he quickly pressed on. “So friend,” he directed at the tiefling in front of him, unable to conceal more sarcasm in calling him friend, “ you clearly wanted us here for a reason. You wanted us to come make ourselves useful. Tell me, how can we be the chaos you want to see in the world.”

You would have thought Caleb had struck the blood hunter, his whole lavender form constricting for a moment. Tearror, fear, uncertainty, all flitting across his face before settling on anger. It didn't take Lucien more than two steps to reach Caleb, roughly pushing him back into the alley wall.

“Get the fuck out of my head Widogast.”

Caleb was paralyzed with fear, his half formed plan had had an effect, but now what. He couldn't raise his eyes to meet Lucien’s, knowing they were clear again, and staring him down with venom.

“I was not in your head. Whatever is there, whomever is there, is not of my own doing. I know you do not want to remember anything, do not want anybody else’s baggage in your head, their problems, thoughts, ideas.” Caleb was taking a gamble speaking to Lucien telapaically, but he wanted to make his appeal as deep as possible, take any ounce of luck he might have. Lucien froze again, his eyes impossibly wide with fear. He was too close to Caleb for him to get away, his grip strong on the shoulder that he shoved back against the wall, and pain was ripping through Caleb’s fear. Fire began to curl around his finger tip automatically, just in case this foolish plan went south. Before Caleb could continue though, he caught out of the corner of his eye, Essek preparing a spell, no doubt in effort to save Caleb. But Lucien simply removed his claws from Caleb’s shoulder for a moment, waving angrily to dispel any and all magic around him sending Essek flying backwards in force, and replaced his hand now around Caleb’s throat.

“If any of you so much as think a thought of magic, I will wring his throat until he is dead.” Lucien spat, but his eye still seemed to have lost their sheen, not that the others could see it. Caleb knew he had to act quickly, before Lucien fully came out of his daze that his words had left him in.

“Don't worry, the only thing magical here is you my friend.” Despite the pressure on his neck, and the searing pain in his shoulder, Caleb reached a hand up between them and pressed it lightly to Lucien’s lavender cheek. He stroked it ever so softly. The grip lightened, and the tiefling looked as though the ground had been pulled from under him. The rest of the Mighty Nien must have noticed the change, because they all went still and were watching the odd exchange, none of them knowing what Caleb was saying. The red eyes that had been nearly boiling with rage moment ago, almost looked like a dull pale ruddy marbles, not focused on anything but whatever was going on inside. Purple limbs were trembling around him, not backing away from Caleb, but unable to move other than to shake.

Caleb threw up a silent prayer to the Moonweaver. Hells, to the Wildmother, to the Luxon, to the Traveler. He was going to need any ounce of favor he could garner for what he was going to do next. Keeping his hand on Lucien’s cheek, he used his other hand to guide the now limp and trembling fingers away from his throat, and interlocked them with his. It had been so long since he had gotten to hold these hands, he had to force himself not to look down at them and try and take them all in. Instead, Caleb pushed himself away from the alley wall, closer to the dazed and confused blood hunter, and placed his lips to the man’s forehead.

He was just as warm as Caleb remembered. A curl falling in front of his face as he leaned in to Caleb’s kiss.

“Caleb!” The surprised voice rang through his head like a beautiful chime announcing the morning was here. There was no anger, no hint of condensation, just surprise and … joy. Caleb was failing in his attempt not to hope, his kiss lingered longer than it should, not wanting to face whatever ugly expression could be back on that handsome face. But when he pulled away, he got a smile. His knees nearly gave out in relief, but the free lavender hand was wrapping around him, keeping him upright and from pulling away farther.

“Caleb!” He was now speaking to him outloud, saying his name light a gasp. The smile dancing on his lips was light, it was sweetly mischievous, and not a lick of malice. Then in his head, “Caleb, darling, would you be so kind as to help me get this fucker out of my body.” It wasnt a demand, but a plea to a friend. Caleb felt an almost immediate draining of any will power that was keeping him from hoping, freeing his inhibition. He had no idea how to get Lucien out of this body, but he knew how to draw this voice closer. Closer to him, hopeful never to go again.

The hand that had been resting on a lavender cheek, now threaded through deep purple curls, pulling the tiefling as close as Caleb could get him, lips fitting together perfectly, if a bit desperately. He could hear Jester’s attempt to stifle a gasp, Beau non-attemp to yell “What the fuck!”, Fjord’s chuckle and then loud whisper at Veth to “Just hold on, give��em a minute”. But Caleb didn't care, not sure if he ever would. This kiss was bright, gentle, and held all these unexplored feelings he hadn't wanted to explore on his own. The ones he had just started to open up when death seemed to come and stop him, the ones of accepting love and forgetting guilt. And then there were ones he continued to explore on his own and with his friends, trying to make this world a better place.

Caleb let himself feel the joy in this moment, choosing not to care for now if it would last. The kiss was long, embarrassingly so, arms were still wrapped around him with no indication of release, so he just leaned into it. He didn't know how to banish Lucien, but he felt himself reach out in his mind, and gather up everything that wasnt that evil soul and pull it close. Every good memory, every hopeful moment, every bit of light he could find, he gathered together. Eventually he felt the tiefling chuckle against his lips. The laughter sent such a brilliant sensation of hope, Caleb had to pull away so he could see the face in front of him.

“Mr.Mollymauk Tealeaf?” He inquired, surprised at the hesitation the sent thought had.

“Ja, ja. The one and only Mr.Caleb.” It was no less cute the second time he heard Molly playfully mock his accent with his own barely there one. There was a long moment where the two simply rested their foreheads together, coming down from the incredibly high emotions from the last few minutes. Eventually it was Molly’s turn to pull away and look over Caleb.

“I mean I knew you could clean up pretty, but bless the Moonweaver, how the fuck did you get this handsome?” The easy flirting tone, the one Caleb hadn’t quite gotten used to until it was gone, filled him with more joy then he could possibly hold.

“And you my friend could use a bath and a change into old clothes.” Caleb spoke with a lightness he didn't know he was capable of, laughter lifting up every work. Molly looked down at himself, still water logged from Aeor and missing all of his color.

“You know, I think you are right. Gods this coat should be a sin, a capital offense.” There was no offense in his tone, just mirth. Caleb wanted to reach out and kiss him again, except suddenly Molly was holding him at arms length and looked worried.

“You know he is still in there right? Just … deeper? Like I was.” and the out loud, as though it was an afterthought “He is fighting for center stage. Like fuck I will give it to him with out a proper showdown though.” Even though his words were quite serious, Molly seemed not to let the situation take hold of him, optimism still shining through. Still smiling.

“Gods you two are making quite a show of this, and I really do hate the theater.” An exasperated voice cut through the shocked silence that had taken over the Mighty Nien, and a small wessel wormed its way off of Jester’s shoulder and over to Molly. Before he could say anything, the little quasi-deity of trickery and joy, jumped up to catch him by the wrist and bit down hard. Molly was jumping up and down rather undignified, swatting unsuccessfully at the fey creature but yelling quite a few obscenities. Yasha was the first to break from the Nien, striding over and removing the Traveler from Molly’s wrist without a word.

“What the fuck. Why did a talking rat just bite me Yash?!” Molly was holding his bleeding wrist, looking up at the familiar barbarian like he had never left.

“Excuse me, I would have you know that I am currently a wessel.” The traveler rebuked in what was probably more admonishment then he actually felt.

“Ok, well, whatever the fuck you currently are, why the fuck did you bite me?” But before an answer could be made, Molly was turning to the still stock still group of friends that were currently making no movements to understand all of the events that just happened. “Jester, love, you think you could heal this up? I would hate to make a mess of this lovely drab coat.”

Jester didn't move however, her mouth opened and gaping. Caduceus however was looking between Caleb and Mollymauk, and seemed to be the first to accept what was happening and walked over to Molly. Clasping both his hands the tieflings wrists, he said a prayer of healing without a word.

“Um, thanks. I don't think I have met you before. My name is Mollymauk, but my friends call me Molly.”

Caduceus, is regular form, laughed easily at the introduction. “I am Caduceus, and our friends - well, they call me lots of different names.” Their smiles were easy, that of a fast friendship.

“And the rat-wessel thing that bit me? Does it have a name?” Molly asked.

“Oh, um, that’s the Traveler. At least I think.” Cad spoke as though he was just giving the time of day.

“God’s, and I thought I was good at conning people. Jessie, you really got - oof” Jester slammed her full body weight into Molly, and impossibly, picked up the taller tiefling at the same time.

“If this is a trick, I will never forgive you, I don't care if you are dead Molly, I will really haunt you if you are pranking me!” Jester sounded on the edge of tears.

“Love, how would you haunt me if I was the one that was dead and you weren't?” Molly lovingly replied while stroking Jester's hair while she clung to him.

“Don't underestimate us, we would find a way!” Veth chimed in adding her arms to the hug, despite all she could reach was his thigh.

“Um, I feel like I should know you, but I am not really one to deny a hug.” Molly laughed through obvious confusion at the halfling clinging to his leg.

“It’s Nott you asshole.” she said, never letting go.

“Oh, ok. That makes perfect sense.”

They eventually let go for the others to see, leaving Fjord shaking his head in disbelief, Beau obviously wrestling with either punching or hugging the man, Essek standing back in confusion, and Yasha … arms crossed and distrusting.

“Prove it. Tell me something only he and I would know.” Molly looked a little hurt, but then a wide grin took over his face. The kind he had saved when he had a really great story to tell.

“Well, Yash, there was that time a couple weeks after you brought me to the circus, and I was really trying hard to save up the coin for my first tattoo. And well, I volunteered myself for that ‘after hours’ performance. You being the lovely dear that you are, volunteered with me thinking you would be gentler than the rest, and what was a little rubber and oil between friends. Only, you got me to use a safeword for the firs-” He was tackled for the second time that night, the rest of that story snuffed out by Yasha’s arms.

“I thought we agreed never to bring that up again?!” But she obviously wasnt mad.

Fjord and Beau both broke at the same time, gathering up Molly into a shared embrace. Of course, Beau had to end it with punching him in the shoulder and muttering “asshole” under her breath. Essek was still clinging to the shadows, obviously not wanting to be part of this reunion. Caleb didn’t know how to introduce the two just yet, so instead he clung to the familiar.

“Mollymauk, it seems like we might have a lot to talk about, -”

“Like how you two were KISSING!?” Jester interrupted excitedly.

“Um, well, ah - I meant more of where we are and what to do about Lucien.” Caleb replied.

“You don't have to worry about him anymore.” Sprinkles was once again on Jester’s shoulder, speaking much louder than a wessel should. “I have removed his soul and sent it to the Moonweaver to deal with it. She is a lot better with that kind of thing.”

“Um thanks?” Molly said, clearly still thrown off by the talking fey wessel.

“Not a problem. Besides, I am the only one around here who gets to strangle people until death.” That should have been a horrifying sentence, but Jester was just giggling along with it.

“Ok, before we talk about anything else, you lot wouldn't happen to have my coat? And a place to sleep, I feel like I haven't slept in a year!” Molly playfully whined. He did however look fairly tired. They could get the rest of their questions answered later, all that matter was right now. And right now, they had Molly back with them. Caleb had Molly back.

He couldn't help but shoot the tiefling silly grins as he summoned the tower, looking forward to every next moment Caleb could spend with Mollymauk Tealeaf. Even as he pushed back the guilt of still having Essek by his side.

#critical role #caleb widogast #caleb saves the world #mollymauk is fine #mollymauk tealeaf #i love molly #lucien is an asshole #shadowgast #its still totally a thing and eating caleb alive #mollymauk #i am hopelessly in love with mollymauk and caleb #circus man #its complicated #cr2e136 #cr fanfic #cr fandom

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