#Beau’s just appreciating Yasha’s thighs; don’t mind her

[elizabethemerald]

Fall Anniversary at the Soltryce Academy

Caleb walked into his classroom at the Soltryce Academy with the immediate instinct that something was wrong. He had been teaching Transmutation theory and application in this same class room for the past twenty years, so anything that seemed different set off alarms in his head. 

He mentally checked the wards on the class room and found them intact. There were a few students in their seats, a few more filtering into the lecture hall, by the second. None of them seemed alarmed. Whatever was different today did not appear to be an immediate threat. 

Still just to be safe he subtly cast Detect Magic as he set his bag down and took off his coat. Immediately a few points were highlighted in his mind. Of course his own magical items, the amber around his neck and the amulet beside it, the ring on his finger, the chalk he had enchanted to help him lecture. Nothing off there. 

There were a few points of magic around the rest of the room, each quickly analyzed and dismissed. Transmutation magic on a small pile of coins near the wall, a low level student’s practice project. Abjuration magic in the wards along the walls. Divination magic in a button, another spying device Astrid had tried to sneak into his class room to keep him from teaching against the school’s policies. 

It was the illusion spells that caught his attention. A few of the students were covered in the same, linked illusion. Their appearance normal enough to blend in, but also entirely too normal for a real student. And there, a student he didn’t recognize even with his keen mind, covered in an illusion spell. Several other magical objects of varying power, hidden under the spell. The Vestige appeared to be within its pocket dimension, so at least they hadn’t brought a weapon onto campus. 

After setting down his things and greeting his class he squeezed past a few of the students to grab Astrid’s enchanted button. He quickly dispelled it and slipped it into an envelope to return to her later. As he returned to the front he gave the cat sitting on his desk a brief scratch. 

“Hello Jester.” He said. Of course he didn’t need Detect Magic telling him of the cat’s aura of Transmutation to know his friend. She was bright blue after all and staring at him far more smugly than even a magic fey cat would. 

“Now class, I know we were discussing transmutation principles as applied to effecting the elements around you, but I am afraid that lesson will have to be postponed. It would seem that it is the anniversary of the Mighty Nein getting together and they have decided to invite themselves to my class.”

There was a muttering around the class room as the students looked at each other, before one of them near the front stood up, the illusion dropping off her form as she did so. 

“I told you he wouldn’t fall for it!” Veth said in her high voice, She looked mostly unchanged from when they first brought her back to her proper body. A few more laugh lines, but nothing more to show the passing two decades. “Lebby, is an amazing wizard, he wouldn’t fall for something simple like that. You students better appreciate the skill of your teacher.”

Caleb smiled fondly as Veth walked up to the front to give him a hug. Interspersed through the seats a few more illusion spells dropped. A half elven man walked up from the front row and kissed him on the cheek. Essek’s own illusion lasting even as he dismissed the Seeming on Kingsley and Yasha. 

“How did they rope you into this?” Caleb whispered to Essek. 

“Oh you know I can’t resist a practical joke.” Essek maintained his deadpan delivery for only a few seconds before a small smile graced his lips. Caleb knew quite well that Essek looked as ageless as ever, under his illusion. His elven blood would keep him looking much the same for the next few centuries. Caleb returned the kiss, to the muttering of his students. They weren’t ever a 100% sure who Caleb’s rotating cast of elven boyfriends were, and Caleb was more than happy to keep them in the dark. 

“Well you can’t fault us for trying!” Kingsley said. They were wearing a scandalously low cut shirt, a pair of plain black pants, and a pair of thigh high boots. His purple hair was fading to a less vibrant shade just a bit near his ears and he had a larger collection of scars, as one would expect from years of piracy and being a bloodhunter. They were also wearing their sword much to Caleb’s disapproval, which was apparently not magical. 

“You can’t expect me to hide this glorious look without magic though can you?” He said, sliding his hands down to his hips then back up his torso. Then he grabbed Caleb’s chin and kissed him full on the mouth, with tongue for several seconds, while his students lost their collective minds. Caleb smiled against Kingsley’s lips right before the tiefling stepped back. He was sure the rumor mill of the school would go wild about that for a few weeks. He wished he could see the look on Master Beck’s face when the news came across her desk. “Here’s to another twenty years, magic man.”

Yasha and Caduceus walked up next, each giving Caleb a tight hug. These two showed their age the least of the non elven members of the Nine. Cad could have been just stepping out of the temple doors in the Blooming Grove, saying that he had only three cups, if it weren’t for the increased presence of lichens and mosses of all kinds on his clothes and armor. Caleb was fairly certain there was an actual bird’s nest in his pink hair. Yasha of course looked as badass and muscular as she had when they first found her. Her hair was completely white, done up in an ornate braid. Home life seemed to suit her well, she looked genuinely happy and relaxed like she certainly hadn’t when they had first gotten together. 

Fjord’s spell dropped as well. The half orc’s hair had large stripes of gray in it, he had crows feet at the corners of his eyes, and his salt and pepper beard had significantly more salt to it now. He still looked good, life at sea, despite its hardships, keeping him fit. He laughed at something over Caleb’s shoulder as he approached and he found himself lifted bodily into the air by a pair of muscular blue arms. 

Jester having dropped her polymorph spun him around briefly in the hug before setting him back on his feet. She would never fail to look divine. Her horns now curling in on themselves, almost like her mother’s had when they first met her. Her hair is pulled back into a pony tail, poofing out behind her head from the salt air. Her sailing days were certainly not hurting her in anyway. Her smile was still just as wide, her eyes just as sharp, and her arms just as strong, if not more so. 

“Happy anniversary Caleb! Twenty years ago you were a stinky wizard. Now you are here teaching!” Jester’s happiness in her voice carried to every corner of the lecture hall. 

“What happened to our plan of drinks in Nicodranas this evening?”

“I just couldn’t wait Cay-leb.” She pouted. “Fjord and I got into port early, and I was so bored.”

Caleb smiled at her, then looked around at the rest of the Nein, pretending to count. 

“We appear to be one short. Where is my sister? Couldn’t drag her away from the Cobalt training pit? Or did she get lost in a book like some kind of nerd?” Caleb said with a smirk.

“Mother fucker!” 

He looked up towards the voice above him, just in time to watch Beauregard drop from the ceiling, to land on his desk with a perfect three point landing. She hopped off the desk and punched his arm, before also grabbing him in a tight hug. 

“I am not a nerd, Widogast!” She snapped, a wide grin on her face. 

“Beauregard, please do not land on my desk. It was a gift and I don’t think it could bare too many impacts like that.” He stopped to look up at the vaulted ceilings of the class room. “Also, how did you get up there?”

If she had been invisible she would have tripped the wards on the class room. And if she had gone in the brief break between classes one of the early students would have noticed her and caused a stir. 

Beau took her turn to smirk. 

“I have been waiting up there for four hours so we could surprise you. It’s surprisingly comfortable. I could have gone another couple of hours without breaking a sweat.” She paused to flex, causing several students, and Yasha to blush at her muscles. 

Beauregard’s monk training meant that she looked like she hadn’t aged a day since Aeor. And she could still easily out fight everyone else in the room if she wanted to. She was also the one member of the Nein that Caleb saw the most frequently. Their work to root out corruption among the Cerberus Assembly, and other bodies of power in the Empire often kept them up together late into the night, until Yasha would intervene and throw her wife over her shoulder to carry her to bed. 

“Can I finish the lesson, or should we depart immediately?” Caleb asked, already guessing the answer. 

“Cayyyllleeeb.” Jester groaned, pulling at her face. “I’m sooooo bored. I want to drink and party already!”

Caleb turned back to his class of students. He was sure most of them had heard rumors about Professor Widogast and the wild adventures he got up to with the Mighty Nein back when they first got together. He wasn’t sure how much they actually believed, but he was sure that even the most widely blown out of proportion tale didn’t even begin to cover the truth of what they had done together. 

“In honor of the anniversary of this group of arschlochs finding each other, consider this to be a free day. Keep up on your readings, and if you have any questions I will be at my regular office hours tomorrow morning.” 

The students immediately started buzzing as they stood and packed. No doubt during tomorrow’s class he would have to field a whole host of questions about the Nein, and that was just the way he liked it. The day after the anniversary was the one day he would talk about what his family had done. As the class filtered out, with many a lingering glance thrown at the colorful group at the front, Caleb turned to Essek, setting the envelope with Astrid’s button in it on the table top to deal with later. 

“Would you like to teleport us to the beach, or shall I?”

Essek put up both hands. 

“I already used my spell slots getting us all back together again. You can bring us to the coast.” Essek said, his smile a mix between smug and fond. 

Caleb rolled his eyes before pulling him into a soft kiss. Then he turned to address the rest of the Nein. The family he had made for himself. 

“Are we ready?” After a series of nods, he pulled an ancient clay turtle from his pocket and gave it a squeeze. “Then let’s go!”

And they were off, to a night of drinks and celebration and stories told, and memories shared. And of course many toasts, “To another twenty years.”

#caleb widogast #essek thelyss #shadowgast #kingsley tealeaf #jester lavorre #the mighty nein #critical role #writing emerald #stories entwine evermore

[lyricalporcupine]

For @uncagedrage, who asked for Yasha trimming Beau’s undercut.

If you had asked Beau, even as little as a year ago, would she ever trust anyone near her face or head with a blade, the answer would have been a resounding fuck no.

But here she sat, calm as a fidgety person knew how, letting the person who nearly killed her trim her undercut with the same fuck off blade that pierced her chest just a few months ago.

Yasha was as gentle as she could be, holding the rust colored blade close to Beau’s head as she trimmed her hair shorter and shorter with measured strokes. She gently folded Beau’s ears to get the stray long hairs behind them and when she released them, her fingertips lightly caressed over the shell of them, causing Beau to smile and use all her strength to stifle a shiver.

It took longer than it probably should have, Yasha being far more cautious than strictly necessary but Beau understood that was just Yasha’s nature: gentle and cautious and not wanting to cause harm.

Finally, Beau felt Yasha blow on the back of her head and rough fingers dusting the loose hairs from her scalp.

“All done,” Beau asked, a bit anxiously. She desperately wanted to stand and move around.

Thankfully, Yasha understood that. She gave a hum and a nod that Beau couldn’t see. “Yes, all done.”

“Whoo!” Beau leaped from her seat and ran her hands along her newly shaved head. She turned to look at Yasha with a dopey grin. “That feels so much fucking better,” she sighed.

Yasha chuffed and propped her sword in the corner of the inn they were staying in. “With the summer heat, I’m sure it does.” She walked to Beau, cupped her face and kissed her softly. “Thank you for trusting me.”

Beau’s face did something gooey, she was sure, but found she didn’t mind. “Of course I trust you,” she replied. Then smirked. “Besides, I don’t think Kima would appreciate us using her sword for haircuts.”

Yasha chuckled and kissed Beau once more before releasing her. “No, probably not. Especially after taking so long to return it to her.”

Beau smiled and walked over to the small water basin and began wiping the loose hairs from her scalp and shoulders with a wet cloth. It was a haphazard job but did the trick and when Beau finished she turned to find Yasha turning the bed down and ready for bed (ready for bed being absolutely naked from head to toe).

Beau stripped herself and extinguished the lamp and crawled into bed beside her girlfriend. They rooted around for a few moments before settling with Yasha’s head on Beau’s shoulder, her massive arm wrapped around Beau’s middle and a leg cast over Beau’s thigh. It didn’t take long for them to fall asleep.

#porcupine writes #beauregard lionett #yasha nydoorin #beauyasha #beauyasha fanfiction #lyricalporcupine

[megabees]

no need for proclamation | a beauyasha fic

a what-if look at what would have happened if Beau and Yasha began dating during the harp scene in episode 98

alternate title: 5 times the Mighty Nein didn't know Beau and Yasha were dating, and one time it was literally spelled out for them

find it on ao3 or read below

They have a conversation, out there on the beach. 

Yasha with her harp, and Beau, muscles unfurled, feeling at peace for the first time in a while. 

The ocean brings clarity for them. They who were not raised by the sea find their anxieties pulled out and caught in a riptide, their bodies returned to them smoothed and polished like a piece of glass swept out into the waves. In the dry plains of Kamordah, Beau had never seen the ocean. Its vast blue stares back at her, forcing her to appreciate how big it is, how she is miniscule in comparison. Beau: big and brash, loud and bold, a born leader, finds herself taking peace in the vastness. In the grand scheme of things, the ocean remains the same. She means nothing to the waves. There is peace in this. If nothing matters, she can do what she wants. 

 Similarly, Yasha grows up in the Moorlands, surrounded by hills and grasses, but the rocks don’t best the constance of the waves, crashing and settling on the shore. For her, someone who struggles so much with desire, with understanding that her mind is her own, the waves show an unstoppable force. A small child can try to stop the waves from their end, but they always come to the shore anyway. Her path may deviate, like the waves occasionally fade, but she comes back to the same place. Her harp, calming. The waves, swelling and settling. Her mind is her own, she takes fate by the hand. 

In front of the ocean, two women come to similar conclusions, and they have a conversation. 

They leave the beach holding hands, a new relationship formed. 

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

The Nein catch on far slower than they realistically should. Yasha and Beau aren’t hiding it, per say. They’re just not making a grand announcement. 

That’s how the Nein does things. You keep a secret until someone weasels it out of you, and then it’s known. There’s no need for a proclamation.

Or so Beau and Yasha thought. After the past three weeks, full of longing glances and not hiding the way they act around each other, they’re beginning to doubt the obviousness of their actions. 

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

They tried to hint to Jester, that day on the boat making statues for the Traveler, through subtle flirting and glances, but she never noticed.

“You have really good legs, Yasha”, Jester remarked. 

Beau catches Yasha’s eye as she says it, gives her a little up and down look. Calculating, as if she wants to know each and every inch of Yasha’s legs. 

Heat flashes up Yasha’s face. 

“Yeah, the slit was very, uh, high. Helped with moving around.” 

Another knowing glance from Beau to Yasha. When Beau thinks of that night, she thinks of two things. Firstly, the Ruby’s singing and the hypnotic way the fish moved around her. Secondly, she thinks of the way Yasha looked in that dress, shades of grey, black and white illuminating her eyes and her lips. 

As the conversation gets more intense, Beau can’t help her hand from drifting behind Yasha, using it partly to steady herself on the slow rocking of the boat and partly to just get closer. 

Yasha makes a similar move, placing her hand on Beau’s lower thigh, as she once again apologizes for running Beau through with Skingorger. 

“It just adds to my aesthetic. Makes me look more interesting.” Beau is so focused on the hand, slowly and comfortingly rubbing her thigh that she almost misses Yasha’s flustered compliment towards. 

“You’re already very interesting….You’re both very interesting.” 

It’s Beau’s turn to flush. Don’t think she hasn’t noticed Yasha’s propensity to hide a compliment to her within a compliment to everyone. It’s cute. 

It’s fun to be in those stages of a relationship, learning those new things about each other. 

Jester’s probably too busy thinking of Travelercon, they can keep it lowkey for a little longer. 

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

It turns out though, that neither of them is *great* at keeping things low key. 

If you ask Beau, it’s Yasha’s fault. Yasha’s too beautiful and talented, and she keeps showing it off. That harp haunts a few of Beau’s dreams. 

(Harps require some deft finger skills, if you catch the drift.) 

Yasha gets up to perform for the village of Vo, and she’s surrounded by all these people. Beau watches the way her hands shake, how she searches the crowd for a familiar face, and yells out “Freebird!” so that Yasha can find her. 

For Yasha, Beau’s a grounding face in the crowd of people. Someone who doesn’t care how she does, who just is there to support her. All of the Nein is, but this song is for Beau. 

Caleb lights Yasha up with silent bolts of lightning, mesmerizing the entire village of Vo, illuminating Yasha with her own personal spotlight.

It’s funny, you know. Prior to meeting Yasha, Beau had always hated storms. In the winery, grapes that got too much rain produced thin and watery wine, and when there was a thunderstorm, the workers couldn’t harvest the grapes. It meant her dad was always angry when there was a storm. Loss of profit, and all that. 

Once she met Yasha though, a storm signified Yasha for her. Thunder became part of the comforting rumble of sleeping with the Nein, and lightning illuminated how different her life looked from five years ago. 

Even when Yasha was gone, Beau hoped every night to hear a storm. Maybe it meant Yasha was returning to them. 

So it’s not her fault she’s put in a stupor by Yasha’s performance. That’s her girl. 

It unlocks a deluge of feelings in her chest. Beau’s shell-shocked, as the Nein discusses the performance absent of Yasha. 

She can’t help but allow herself to chime in. 

“That was amazing.” 

She makes sure to tell Yasha how amazing it is later that night, in hushed tones wrapped up together. 

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

After that, they begin to find their stride in how they act around their friends. 

In battle, Yasha has a free pass to be as protective as she wants. Beau’s more fragile than she, and is somehow easily swallowed? Yasha’s confused on how the beasts they keep fighting manage to find Beau in their mouths more than anyone else. 

Either way, Beau usually ends up taking more damage than anyone else notices. 

Nothing against Jester or Cad as healers, but they tend to focus on the group’s overall health levels, and Beau likes to play off her injuries. 

Vulnerability isn’t easy for Beau, so Yasha keeps a watchful eye. 

She’s already lost one partner, she doesn’t need to lose another. 

They’re traipsing through the forest, and Yasha looks away for one moment, and suddenly Beau is on the ground unconscious. 

Nosy Expositor can’t keep her hands to herself, Yasha supposes.

She gets Beau back up, taking lightning damage and healing her.

For Yasha, her healing hands are a way of showing Beau her affection. They symbolize forgiveness, and they symbolize hope. It’s just a way of showing how she cares. Yasha’s not great with words, she speaks through her actions, and she hopes Beau understands. 

That being said, as if she’s gonna let her girlfriend get healed by just Fjord. 

“It’s not a competition, okay!” 

“It’s a competition.” 

Fjord’s got nothing on her. She’s there for Beau. 

This is re-enforced, of course, when Beau asks Yasha to carry her following the fight. There was a time, when Yasha was just regaining her mind, where Beau asked Caleb to carry her following the fight with Obann instead of Yasha, and while Yasha would never admit it to Beau, it hurt a little. 

Carrying Beau is Yasha’s thing. They’ve had this joke running through the time they’ve spent together, and Yasha isn’t a fan of other people trying to butt in on that. 

Perhaps she’s a bit protective, a bit jealous of Beau. How is she to not be, though, when she was gone for so long and Beau got so much closer with everyone else. For Yasha, post-Obann was a new fear. The Nein had pursued her for so long, but they also made new friends, and what if the Nein had liked them more than they liked Yasha? It’s hard to feel like part of a group when you’re never there. Plus, she was helping someone raise a terrible god, and killing Beau’s co-workers, and while none of it was in her control, she did it. 

The fact that the Nein forgave her? That Beau forgave her and still wants to be with her? 

Yasha’s still not sure how she got so lucky. 

This thought is reinforced with Beau in her arms as they walk through the forest to face a false god. Yasha loves to be able to help. Jester and Cad might be the healers, but Yasha loves the feeling of Beau’s small, lithe body in her arms. 

She just wants to hold Beau forever, shelter her from any oncoming attacks. 

It’s with this thought that she misses Beau giving Jester a thumbs up as they venture further into the forest. 

Who needs subtlety? 

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

When Yasha catches Beau in the air with her new wings, part of her is sure it’s gonna tip off the rest of the group. 

It’s so romantic. It was probably a beautiful visual. 

Unfortunately, it seems like the rest of the Nein is either being incredibly dense or incredibly respectful, and Yasha’s too held up in her brand new wings to decide which they are. 

She flies up and over the mountain with Beau swooning in her arms, and it’s perfect. The sun casts a beautiful golden haze over the island, and Beau’s skin shines in the sunlight. 

Yasha might have the wings, but Beau is her angel. 

Then the wings disappear and they plummet into a shallow pond. 

Yasha’s not thrilled the wings last for such little time, but at least she gets to see Beau soaking wet from the pond, giggly and delighted at the flight. 

In that moment, Yasha is overwhelmed with love. It’s too early to say, but she’s been in love before. She knows what that rush feels like, that off balance feeling of “oh shit I’m in deep”. 

A small secret, then. Something to unpack on her own time. There’s no need to speed it up, to burden Beau with this until she’s ready. 

This love, it can be just hers to have for a bit. She’s allowed to want that. 

Beau brings her back to herself, pulling her out of the pond and her own thoughts in one fell swoop. 

Holding hands and giggling, they make their way to the edge of the cliffside, overlooking the mountain awash in sunlight. Looking out, Yasha is overcome and she leans over to give Beau a quick peck on the lips. 

“I’m happy to have you here with me.” 

“Oh? That true, sap?” 

Yasha laughs, nodding her head and breaking eye contact, and leads Beau to the edge to point the way down back to their friends. 

“We should probably head back, they’re gonna think we’re dead.”

They take a little extra time on the way down though since the Nein hasn’t noticed their other hints. It’s put to good use. 

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

The day they visit Molly’s grave is when they give up any attempt to be subtle at all. Throughout Rumblecusp and the days after, their relationship has switched from being a complete secret to being something that they could easily explain if asked, but no one has outright asked them if they’re dating, so it just hasn’t happened. 

Either the Mighty Nein is very dense or very respectful. Yasha’s sensing it might be half and half, because Caduceus had a very meaningful conversation with her about wanting things and patience, but Jester and Veth keep giving Beau looks when they think she should make a move. 

Yasha and Beau talk about it at night. It’s funny to them that everyone keeps dancing around the topic. Neither of them is sure about where they got the idea that they can’t just ask, but it’s fun to just have this to themselves. 

Until they go to visit Molly’s...no..Lucien’s? grave. 

Yasha has a lot of feelings around Molly and his grave, and she’s not exactly thrilled by Caleb’s suggestion that they dig him up to get some answers to questions they don’t even know yet. Feels almost rude, to take a friend out of the ground to inquire about his personal life. 

She mentions it to Beau, in a hushed whisper, and Beau attempts to stop Caleb’s focused energy by hinting heavily at it, but his focus is so intense that he brushes her, and Jester, who picks up on both Beau and Yasha’s discomfort, off. 

He gets like that sometimes. 

They teleport there, and Yasha is struck by how normal it looks. His coat is still there, though it’s blown off the stake they put in to mark his grave, and for a moment, she lets herself hope that he’s still there. 

Beau’s hand finds its way into hers as they watch Veth and Cad dig up the grave, a thread of reality keeping Yasha tethered there, eyes locked onto the now empty grave. 

She removes her hand from Beau’s, and instead moves it to the small of Beau’s back, pulling Beau closer to her for comfort. Beau’s body is tiny, but it’s something to grasp as they both figure out what this means for their future. 

At  one of the lowest moments since she regained her mind, Beau is there with her. 

She squeezes Beau’s hand once. Beau squeezes back. They’re ready to tell everyone now. 

---------------------------------- 

They tell everyone in Caleb’s fancy tower, after Yasha decides to throw caution to the wind and make a joke about Beau’s fancy sex mirror above her bed. 

Jester and Veth are overjoyed, Fjord and Caleb both want to make sure they’re taking care of each other and won’t mess up the group, and Caduceus just nods happily, though they’re sure he knew all along. 

As they sit around the fire, Yasha and Beau link pinkies and bask in the laughter and joy of their family. 

Things will be okay. 

#critical role #beauyasha #beauregard lionett #yasha nydoorin

[araminia16]

Best of the Situation (2/2)-Rated E

Chapter 1

Jester stared at the now green stone and she felt her throat bob as she swallowed. She shivered and felt Beau’s hands on her arms as she was shifted away. 

Beau blocked the stone with her body while she rubbed Jester’s arms soothingly, “Hey. We can still try something else. You don’t have to do anything with anyone if you don’t want to.” 

Jester swallowed again then focused on Beau’s face. The sincere softness she found there soothed some of the tension from her frame. “I don’t really know what to do. I’ve read stuff but I can’t think of anything now.” 

“I don’t mind doing the work if that’s what you are worried about, Jess,” Beau answered Jester’s whisper with one of her own. They were close enough now that all she had to do would be to lean forward the two or three inches to kiss Jester but didn’t at the look of abashed embarrassment. 

“But that wouldn’t be fair. What about you? I mean orgasms are really pretty nice.”

“I can do that myself, Jess. No big deal. I promise. You take care of us all the time so it's time someone took care of you.” 

“But...I don’t know where to put my hands or how to move my face or anything. What if I’m really bad?” 

Beau let the smile spilt her features as she shook her head, “You’ll be fine. Just follow my lead, okay? I’ll keep you covered up.” 

Jester’s gaze pierced through Beau’s face to the green stone as she worried her lip between white teeth. “So what do I do again?” 

“Close your eyes and breathe,” Beau watched the bright lavender disappear behind long eyelashes and blue lids and waited a few seconds before she leaned in and pressed brown to blue with the softest intention. She drew back after a few seconds and smiled again when Jester’s brow furrowed and she blinked before opening her eyes. 

“Is that a kiss? It wasn’t anything like the smut I read.” 

Beau felt her belly twist up at the critique but didn’t let it show, “Close your eyes again and just do what feels okay. But you have to tell me if you don’t like something I do. I don’t want to hurt you.” 

Jester nodded and closed her eyes once more while Beau leaned in again and pressed her lips to Jester’s a second time. This time Beau leaned into it and all the stupid smut books and thier descriptions of kissing ran through her head. Jester’s lips really were so soft. Like rose petals and silk and it caught her off guard when Jester tried to reciprocate. Her technique was flawed and the attempt made Beau’s traitorous heart flutter. The tip of her nose bumped into Beau’s as she leaned in and Beau had to take her chin in hand and tilt her ever so slightly. 

This time when they pulled back Jester’s lips parted and she felt the flush in her cheeks and the way her heart did this flippy thing when Beau gave her this look. A tender thing from the gruff monk. 

But Jester’s eyes drifted as they do and her attention divided between Beau and the knowledge her first kiss had been witness by a bunch of pervy people. The sour thought drowned the blush in a wash of cold while she pulled back and crossed her arms, “That was better I think. Have you kissed a lot of people?” 

“Enough. You did pretty good yourself. We can keep doing that for a while if you want, just to get used to it. If they want to watch then we can take our time, right?” Beau reached out and her fingers enclosed over one of Jester’s hands to give it a comforting squeeze. 

Jester nodded and leaned in again but the brightness in her eyes seemed dimmer somehow and her body language more closed off than Beau wanted but they had time to loosen up. Beau leaned in and this time Jester tilted her head properly while they kissed once, twice, three times before Beau broke off to kiss the bottom of Jester’s chin. “You okay, Jessie?” She whispered close to the pointed ear of her friend. 

Jester nodded but Beau could smell the lie and gave her a measured look. She followed Jester’s gaze to the green stone and shifted with the speed and grace of her training to pull Jester off balance to end up with her back to the stone. It stared Beau in the face now but it was whatever. “Jester. I want you to focus on me, okay? Just me. Don’t think about the stone or the circumstance or what you might be afraid of. You gotta let it all go. I told you I would take care of you and I will but you can’t think about it. I can’t do this if you don’t like it too.” 

“What if I like it too much? What if I like you too much or something? You wouldn’t want to be stuck with me forever or anything would you? With Yasha somewhere else? Or what if I don’t like it at all, I don’t want to make you feel bad or anything, Beau. You are my best friend and I don’t want either of us to be hurt with this so maybe I shouldn’t like it that much. Maybe you should just do what you need to do and we can leave and nothing will change and we will still be friends.” Jester had devolved in the way she did when she felt stressed out as the words poured fast from her mouth so much Beau almost wasn’t able to catch it all.

Brown hands framed Jester’s freckled cheeks while her eyes latched onto Jester with a hard look, “Nothing will ever make me stop being your friend, got it? Nothing. No matter what happens here we will still be friends but I won’t have you dead fish on me. Not when you are so bright and beautiful and deserve more than this. You deserve the romantic beach and the seaside and the castles and everything else in those smut books but if you just think we are in some nice room on the beach with the Nicodranas sunset in the distance it can be special to you. Okay? So just focus on me and think of your home and not about anything else. We can leave and figure it out later.” Beau had started to stroke her thumb along Jester’s cheek as a single tear fell from her eye. 

Jester gave her a watery smile and nodded, “Okay. As long as you promise.” 

“Always, Jess.” 

Beau leaned in and captured Jester’s lips in another kiss and this time instead of closing her eyes Jester kept them open. It was strange being so close to someone and looking at them while they kissed you but it was nice. Beau’s eyes were always really pretty. 

With only a little bit of timidness Jester reached up and put her hand on Beau’s shoulder. The bare skin felt really warm and soft and nice and so she kept it there while they parted and came together, learning how to move and breathe as a unit. Jester felt Beau’s hand press against the back of her neck fingers parting short hair while the other hand and forearm wrapped around her back. Jester felt the flex of taut muscle as Beau pulled her closer, falling back with Jester sprawled into her lap. The squeak parted flushed lips and Beau looked a lot different than she did before. The affection was there in her eyes but also something else that made her belly feel funny. It was a moment before the kissing started again but as they met again Jester now sat well balanced in Beau’s lap with her legs sprawled out to the side. It made her dress ride up her thighs but the leggings kept anything from showing. “Remember. You have to tell me if you don’t like something.” Beau’s normally rough voice seemed rougher and more breathless and Jester smiled at her.

“Okay.” 

Beau pulled her in but this time Jester’s lips parted in a soft sigh as Beau’s lips met the line of her cheek along her chin, the hand at the back of her neck directed her to expose more of her flesh to Beau and it felt really pretty good. Beau kissed and nuzzled her pulse thrumming faster than she remembered and she heard the short sharp breaths of Beau in her ear. 

She had often thought about what to call the place between her thighs. Sometimes the books called it a flower or treat or something really silly. Vulva or vagina seemed no fun at all. Pussy only reminded her of Frumpkin and then Caleb. Core seemed stupid too. Cunt was visceral and crass but at the moment she thought it might fit as it warmed in arousal. 

“You are doing so good Jessie,” Beau praised and Jester could only nod and gasp in reply, her hand spasming as Beau hit something she liked. Her other hand, useless at her side lifted to grab onto Beau while the heat under her skin seemed a little scary but in a good way. 

Beau did it again while the hand at Jester’s neck rubbed and massaged to help keep her calm. 

Beau felt the little motions Jester’s hips did every time she pulled at blue flesh with her mouth. The smallest little cants for more that Jess probably didn’t even know she was doing and Beau needed to make it happen more. Beau was already wet and ready and they hadn’t even gotten to the good part. “Is it okay to take these buttons down a little?” 

Jester’s dress had buttons halfway up the dress and a small corset underneath but it took her a second to register what Beau had said with her eyes closed and her body like a livewire. “A couple, maybe. Are you going to kiss me more? I like it.” 

It was endearing the small way she admitted her desire and Beau wanted to fulfill it. Beau used a single hand to pop open three buttons and expose more blue skin with the lines of shimmering silver to her hands and eyes. It wasn’t like they hadn’t seen each other naked before but this was different. This time she could really appreciate how beautiful Jester really was. Beau broke the kiss with an audible pop and leaned Jester back a little. There was a purple-red flush to her neck and upper chest , her collarbones were elegant and the hint of a swell of her breasts made her quite the picture just as her tattoo did. 

“Do you want me to touch you or kiss you?” She whispered into the space between them with bright and eager eyes. 

“You can do whatever you want, Jess.” 

“Okay then. Can we dance?” At Beau’s befuddled look she cackled, “Not really, Beau. I really like to dance but this is a bit more fun than that. Can I see you without your vest thing?It looks like it might get in the way just a little bit.” 

Beau shook her head with affectionate exasperation, “Sure.” She shucked the coat off with little preamble and out of the corner of her eye caught Jester’s unabashed ogling before she turned back. This time it was Beau who was caught off guard as Jester’s hands shot up to either side of her face and pulled her forward. 

Neither of them were sure after they surfaced how Beau ended up on her back with Jester straddling her hips kissing and kissing and kissing until they were both dizzy and breathless with need. Somewhere in the mix Jester’s dress ended up hiked up nearly over her hips and Beau’s hands kneaded and scratched on the ample flesh of her backside. Jester arched in when Beau’s nails traced her upper thighs and plump fanged mouth bit and sucked at dark skin with enthusiasm. 

Jester spread her thighs further apart when Beau hauled her up to play and scratch along the back of her thighs while Jester moaned and shuddered above her. So unabashed despite her earlier reluctance. Beau fought the urge to trail her hands in between Jester’s thighs despite feeling the heat of her hovering over the skin of Beau’s abs. 

Jester’s hands trailed up and buried themselves in Beau’s hair. The topknot style in disarray and so she watched the strands fall around Beau’s face with affection. “Still okay?” 

“Yep. Those perverts can watch all they like because I’m amazing, aren’t I?” 

“Sure are, Jess.” 

Jester giggled and rubbed the tip of her nose on Beau’s before kissing it and rolling off. “I really want to get naked. I’m all sweaty and hot.” 

“If you want,” Beau wouldn’t stop her. 

“You could help me a little, couldn’t you Beau?” 

“Y-yeah. Absolutely.” She sat up and her hands shot for the buttons along the front of her dress only to find that it was not a dress. The cloth fell to either side of blue skin and exposed white lace in a mid corset. It slipped down her arms with a whisper and Jester leaned back while biting her lip with a fang exposed. When Beau reached for the skirt Jester quickly shook her head and her eyes darted to the green light. 

Beau crawled forward only to grab onto Jester and pulled her forward with just enough momentum that the tiefling sprawled into Beau’s lap. She righted herself and shifted so her legs draped across Beau’s hips and thighs once more. A few scars dotted the feast of flesh before Beau’s eyes and each one earned on their travels. Calloused hands splayed out and nearly covered Jester’s shoulders before trailing over the defined muscles of her arms then across her toned belly with relish. “You really like my muscles don’t you? Fjord once said something about my being able to crush a melon with my thighs but I don’t really think I’m that strong, do you?” 

All at once her head spun with the images of Jester’s thighs pinning her in place while she ate Jester out and found her lips parted when she came back to herself as well as a rather curious look from Jester. Beau decided to distract them both by bringing her hands up to cup her fairly generous breasts. 

Jester leaned her head back with a sigh while Beau kneaded and stroked her lace covered breasts. Flesh pebbled under her palms and Beau smoothed two fingers over the peak before she pinched lightly and a rough cry echoed around them both while her hips canted over nothing. Beau teased and pinched until Jester’s cries echoed without end and the sound of something slapping the bed over and over again caught her attention. Beau brought her mouth down over one peak and sucked while her other hand continued to work all the while Jester wailed and clawed at her shoulders and back and each sting was a welcome reminder of her skill. She should have known Jester would be expressive and eager. It was the way she did everything and it was one of the things Beau loved about her. 

Jester was too warm, molten and raw like volcano cakes from home and she could feel the thrashing of her tail while the heat pulsed from the places Beau touched to the really damp spot between her legs. She knew what would happen eventually and a tiny speck of anxiety twisted at the core of her heat. What if she wasn’t all that pretty down there? It wasn’t like Jester had looked really recently or done much maintenance on the road. What if she didn’t like it? Or thought she like Beau but maybe didn’t really and it would be really awkward and she wouldn’t want to be her roommate anymore. 

Beau pulled up from Jester’s breast when the tiefling suddenly quieted and tensed and sighed. Jester was back in her own head again. “Hey,” Beau stroked a couple of her fingers along Jester’s cheek. “What’s going on in there?” 

“You don’t want to know Beau it's a pretty scary place up here,” Jester joked. “I’m fine. Can I do things to you now?” 

Beau didn’t believe her for a second but leaned back, “You don’t have to ask, Jess. I mean it.” 

Jester slowly and carefully reached up and Beau had to smile a little at the small tongue sticking out of her mouth. Long delicate fingers pressed softly into the flesh of Beau’s neck, then traced down her collarbones and in between the dip of her top, down past her breasts then tickled toned abs, lingering on the scar on her left side before her whole palm slid back up over her thick shirt and traced over her lips. Beau nipped playfully at Jester’s finger and she let out a soft gasp but didn’t pull back even when Beau wrapped her lips around a digit and drew it in. 

Beau watched Jester’s pupils dilate and her lips part as she swirled her tongue around her finger and released it. “Come on, Jess. Don’t be afraid.” 

Jester’s eyes narrowed and she stroked her damp finger down Beau’s chin and ended just above Beau’s breasts. Nowhere near as well endowed or soft and Jester’s were they still were adequate and even more so when Jester stroked her thumb over where she thought the peak of it was. 

Beau let out a soft breath and Jester did it again. 

“Do you want it off?” 

Jester shook her head, “No. Not unless you do.” 

She began to mimic the things Beau did to her but leaned in to hover over the monk to dip down for one kiss, two, three, until they lost count and Beau panted each time Jester retreated eager for the next kiss, next touch, next anything as long as it smelled of sugar and mischief. “Are you nervous?” Dizzy with desire Beau still sighed out the question through each throb Jester’s clever fingers produced. 

“Yes.” Jester answered and pinched Beau’s nipple sharply ripping a spasm from her. 

“So am I.” 

Jester pulled back with a dubious stare, “You’ve done this before.” 

“But not really with someone I actually care about. Not since before I left home. I don’t want to fuck it up.” Beau shifted forward and stroked Jester’s hair with just a hint of blunted nails. 

“You won’t. What do we do now? Cause the door is still locked.” 

“I know what I want to do but I think it would be a little too much for you.” 

Jester leaned in and kissed Beau again long and full of bottled enthusiasm, “Is it kinky?” 

Beau laughed, “No you wierdo.” Beau trailed her fingers down past Jester’s breasts to rest at the top of her skirt. “I want you out of this. I want you splayed out before me screaming my name. I want you so lost in pleasure you won’t be able to stand it.” 

“Oh. Well. Sure. That’s cool too.” Jester stuttered out while Beau shifted her off and with a few aborted motions and direction had her settled atop soft pillows at the head of the bed. 

Beau crawled slowly up Jester’s body watching the way Jester watched her with dark pupils nearly taking up her entire eye so only a sliver of lavender remained. Beau settled alongside her best friend and pulled her so that they faced each other. She took that time to gently coax Jester with soft strokes of her fingers through her hair to watch the blue locks fall haphazardly. Brushed the base of her scalp where her horns protruded and did so until the lust filled haze of Jester’s gaze dimmed while her eyelids drooped with contentment. Beau even swore that she purred a little bit. The same hand trailed over soft skin, down her neck and over her arm then altered course to slide over Jester’s defined core and then above to give her ass a light squeeze. 

Jester laughed then while she burrowed further into the pillows and watched Beau with expectant hesitation. 

Beau grasped the back of Jester’s thigh after letting her nails trail over the back of it to listen to Jester’s short heavy whine and pulled it over her hip. The skirt was long enough to keep things hidden even without the tights. Even then Beau let her fingers linged near Jester’s knee where it rested on her hip. She ran over and over the skin while watching Jester and with another bitten lip she nodded and Beau slowly made her way up. She could feel the heat from between Jester’s legs long before she pressed a finger just so along the crease of it. 

Jester’s eye never left Beau’s though her lips parted and she grasped onto Beau’s arm but not in fear or anxiety but to keep her steady. 

Slowly Beau trailed a finger over the dampness where she soaked into her tights and Jester’s sharp inhale had her pause.

Jester could feel Beau like a heartbeat. Every little tiny movement seemed so much more in the small space. It felt a little like eating a really good pastry, that joy, but this was so much more delicious the way it seeped into her muscle and bone. Coupled with the way Beau looked at her with such affection it stoked whatever flame in her hotter. Jester gasped when Beau’s finger added more pressure and felt the way her body pulsed in time with the way her heart hammered at her ribs. It wasn’t even that exciting. No skin on skin the way Jester did it but still it left her moaning softly and hips canting into Beau’s touch. Her grip tightened and Beau moved closer to the top and little circles had her bury her face into the pillow and cry out. Heat curled and thrashed about in her belly while Beau whispered things into her ear that she couldn’t really hear but the tone was of gentle encouragement. She moaned into the pillow and rolled her hips harder. It wasn’t long after when the trembling began. The fully body shiver staring in her belly and radiating out to the rest of her while she let out a scream and trembled while Beau held her somehow with the other arm still not letting up until the last of her shaking ended. 

Beau was a little put out that Jester hid from her when it got too much for her but she understood though the scream sounded an awful lot like her name. She wiped her fingers on the bed glistening with Jester’s juices and stroked her back and neck, “I’ve got you. It’s okay.” And other sweet nothings until Jester rose from the pillow and leaned in to kiss Beau. 

“That was fucking amazing, Beau.” 

And if that didn’t puff out her chest a little bit nothing would. “I know.” 

Jester glanced at the door and found it to be locked still. “I don’t think we are going to get out of here like that. But these pants are probably ruined.” She turned onto her back and parted her thighs while she stretched and sank back into the bed. “I could do you the same way.” 

“We should get you out of those tights.”

Jester eyed Beau with her trademarked mischief, “Do you want to get into my pants, Beau?” 

“Hell yeah.” She breathed out. 

“It wouldn’t be very fair to you, would it?” 

“Life’s not fair but I really want to eat you out. You can do me after. I’ll probably come way too fast.” 

“Does it really get you going? Is it really that good cause I don’t think it tastes very good.” 

“It’s not about taste. It’s about the experience.” Beau rose up and splayed her hands up the sides of Jester’s thighs to grab onto the tights and drag them down still making sure to expose as little of Jester as she could. She had to swallow a few times to keep everything in check while strong blue legs appeared inch after inch. The contrast of the brown and blue struck her again as very pretty while she glided her palms up the insides of Jester’s legs. 

“What if it smells bad down there?” 

“Impossible.” 

“Or looks weird?” 

“Vaginas are weird but really really fun so don’t worry about it. I bet it's as pretty as the rest of you.” 

Jester smiled and Beau felt her heart skip a little bit at the blush on her cheeks, “You are really pretty too, Beau.” 

Beau continued up Jester’s thighs and without any signs otherwise pulled her thighs apart and settled between them. It was dark enough only the glistening pink was clear enough to be seen. A faint shimmer of dark blue hair dotted the top possibly in the shape of...something… but everything Beau could see was mouthwateringly nice and she kissed an inner thigh. 

Jester twitched and held her breath as Beau planted small, sweet kisses to her thighs. She couldn’t really see much but maybe that was a good thing as she felt a little bit of energy flare to life at the sound of Beau’s little noises of delight. 

Jester smelled as sweet as she thought she would and when she licked a broad stripe from bottom to top without preamble Jester’s hips nearly dislodged her. 

Beau doubled down while hooking her arms up under Jester’s ass to keep her still and set to work . Flavor and musk peppered her tongue while she set to work lapping and stroking the searing hot pink flesh dripping with more slick with each pass. 

Jester felt like she was too hot. Like she would burn up when Beau slowed down and softened her touch. Fingers pressed into the wood above her while she strained and cried out. Her vision dimmed a little while she rolled her hips into the slick muscle currently making her lose all sense of herself. Sharp, high gasps quickened even as Beau’s pace didn’t change over the swollen bud which gave her so much sensation. The steady methodical climb to climax had her trembling once more with each cry more shrill than the last until she shuddered and clawed at the bed as the waves of climax slammed into her over and over again like when high tide would come at home. Beau eased up near the end and Jester thought it was over but then she changed tactics and started again. “Beau.” Jester moaned when she felt a bolt of lightning come from her cunt as Beau’s lips wrapped around her bud and sucked gently. Then back to the slow press and circles until Jester was half mad and giggling madly with the overload of sensation with each climax almost more intense than the last. By the time she finished her hands were buried into Beau’s hair and her skirt was nearly up to her hips. She clenched on nothing but could feel each heartbeat in her skin and it nearly made her come again. 

Beau wiped her face on the sheets not stained wet and the sight of Jester loose limbed and dazed could only make her wish for more moments between them. With another motion she pulled the skirt back down to hide preserve whatever modesty she had left.  Beau crawled up to settle next to her and felt something stroke at her thigh through her loose pants. The hard press of something triangle shaped against her clothed but still very aroused core caused the breath to escape her lungs while a round shape slid along her thigh. Both pressures left her suddenly while her she adjusted halfway up Jester’s body in line with her lace covered chest and then the triangle, hot and flexible pressed on her belly to slide into her pants and underwear with near perfect ease. Past the edge of her belly, down through dark curls and into hot silk. Beau moaned and leaned into Jester, clenching the sheets while it stroked and tapped over the outer edges of her, wet enough and needing enough even that was almost the end for her. 

Jester looked over Beau to see the door swing open but decided to keep going. She was too unsteady now to use her fingers or anything but her tail was just as good. Better sometimes when she was of a mood for it. And Beau looked so pretty with her hair falling over her face and her little cries pressing into Jester’s skin. 

Beau whined and rolled her hips, begging for more and with a slight adjustment the blunted edge slid between eager lips and along molten heat, velvet and so slick it was a little hard to get friction. The tip teased around the firm bud of her clit and again her fists clenched sheets and she moaned into Jester’s skin. “Jess. What--?” 

“Shhh. Sometimes I like doing things with my tail. It feels nice, doesn’t it?” 

Somehow her entire body pulsed with the next spike of pure want. Jester touched herself like this? How often. Oh. Gods. Oh. It tapped against her now and each bit of contact had her clenching around nothing. Then the thin taper of her tail slid back and forth with the spade pressing just so into her. Beau dissolved into open mouthed gasps, hanging forever at the precipice and almost wanting to beg to make it stop or keep it going forever. It could have been hours at the edge or just seconds but Jester’s hands stroked the tattoo behind her neck and threaded through her hair tenderly and she kept her sweat soaked cheek glancing over rough lace. “Please. Please.” She babbled and thrust her hips forward, down, anything to give her just a little more pressure. 

It moved and the edge ran over and over her clit in rapid succession which was just was she needed while her body bowed up and she let out a ragged scream as her vision dimmed and her whole body pulsed with too much energy. Jester didn’t stop and kept it going until she was grabbing for her tail and finally Jester yanked it out, sopping wet with Beau’s release. It glided over Beau’s skin and lay on the bed still glistening with evidence of what she had done with the appendage. 

Beau moaned when Jester hauled her up like she weighed nothing and set her in a cuddle next to her. “The door’s open.” She whispered to the still dazed monk and stroked her softly through her resurface to the world. 

“I think I’m going to take a nap,” Beau replied and kissed at Jester’s collarbone. “We should stay here.” 

“I don’t think our friends would like that very much.” 

“Screw ‘em.” 

“I’m not sure that would be a good idea either, Beau. Since we just did that to each other.” 

“Where did you learn that trick?” 

“By myself. Plus my mama had five clients one night and she was talking about how handy her tail was with them.” 

“We should go then before they decide to keep us.” 

When they both felt a little more grounded Jester rose and pulled back on her blouse and used the dirty sheets to clean up the mess she had made. The stone had changed back to red now and the door remained open. 

Beau put her vest back on and cleaned up in the bathroom . Not much to do for the pants and underwear but oh well. It would wash out. They pulled on their boots and stared at the door. 

“Friends?” 

“Always.” Beau replied and Jester leaned on her shoulder for a moment before she took a deep breath and stood up followed by Beau. 

Outside the room there was indeed two bags of gold along with an itemized receipt of gold owed and each extra thing added to the payment. 

“Using my tail got us an extra 500 gold, huh.” Jester looked it over. It still wasn’t right what this place did but at least it wasn’t so bad. 

“2,500 total for each of us isn’t bad. Now we should try to find the others and see what fucked up mess they got into.” 

It didn’t take them long to find the exit or the remainder of their party. 

After some awkward glances around Yasha admitted to the torture, Caduceus had been asked to strip and pose for painting, Nott had followed them and tried to make a plan to get them out, and Fjord and Caleb wouldn’t say what happened to them though Beau could infer from the blushes and avoidance of eye contact it had to be sex. She would get it out of them sooner or later. 

As for Jester she seemed to glide back into the rest of them with ease and on the way out of the strange place she ever reached over to take Beau’s hand in hers as they walked into what remained of the day. 

#Beaujester #Critical role #fanfiction #rated E #magical voyuerism #fluffy first time #best friends #beauregard lionett #jester lavorre #smut #fluff #playful sex #interesting use of a tiefling tail #Slow Growth will be updated next but I'm not sure when

[dracoqueen22]

[Critical Role] Coming Clean

Universe: Critical Role, Campaign Two, Set in the Xhorhouse Characters: Caleb Widogast/Caduceus Clay Rating: K+ Description: Caduceus only meant to help Caleb to relax. He hadn’t known it would lead to something surprising for the both of them.

It's not hard to coax Caleb out of his research room. One simply has to have the right timing. Such as late at night, when the rest of the Mighty Nein are asleep in their beds and not prone to being nosy. When Caleb has spent far too long awake, nose pressed to his books, determined to glean every last bit of information from every last page. When he's skipped dinner because he didn't want to lose his place, but mindlessly snacked from a plate Nott left by his elbow. He's predictable, their wizard is, and Caduceus finds there's a certain comfort in predictability.

Caduceus hums as he fixes up a tray, placing a pot of tea and two cups upon it, along with a plate of heartier snacks. The tea is a special blend -- the Temis' he thinks -- one that tastes better once it's cooled, which means it'll be perfect for an afterbath meal. Caleb works hard, far too hard, and doesn't care for himself in the manner he should. Caduceus understands that there are reasons, things which weigh heavily on Caleb's heart and conscience. But Caleb lets those things swallow him up, inform too many of his decisions, and he wallows like a pig in the sty. He needs to get out of his own head, and Caduceus means to help him do just that. He picks up the tray, and at the last minute, adds a small vase with a few cut flowers from his personal garden, just to give it a splash of color. Caleb will appreciate that, he thinks. Caleb is one to notice the little things. The Xhorhouse is still and quiet. Nott and Yeza retired early, and Caduceus is no longer so naive as to be confused why, he's simply glad for them. Yasha is on her balcony, sword balanced across her knees, staring into the night sky, perhaps hoping for a storm. Jester and Beau are both asleep; Caduceus had paused outside their room, heard Beau's telltale snoring, and Jester's quiet murmur of sleep-talking. Fjord's asleep in the common room, knocked out on a couch, one arm dangling off the side. He’d had a book on his chest, but Caduceus had gently extracted it, saved Fjord's place, and covered the half-orc with a blanket. Lastly, Caleb is in his research room, burning the past midnight oil, and in need of a break and relaxation and some stress relief. The trick will be to convince Caleb he is in need of them as well. Caduceus shifts the tray to one hand and raps his knuckles against the door. There's a moment of startled pause before Caleb's voice comes through the wood. "Yes?" "Pardon the intrusion, Mr. Caleb," Caduceus says as he slips inside, balancing the tray with care. "I thought I might convince you to take a break and join me in the bath. I think it'll do you some good." Caleb rises from behind his desk, sleeves pushed up to reveal the scars on his arms, coat shucked aside, hair loose around his face, dark circles under his eyes. "No matter what Jester tells you, I bathe on the regular now, Mr. Clay." Caduceus chuckles and rests the tray on the desk, hoping the enticing aroma will waft Caleb's direction. "I meant a soak will relax you, not that you are dirty." "Oh. I see." Caleb's gaze slants toward the tray. "You brought this for me?" "For us to share." Caduceus holds up a hand. "But only after a soak. They are best eaten when one is at ease." Caleb chuckles, quiet and dry, and it's such a rare sound Caduceus' chest blooms with a delighted heat. "Very well. If you're going to bribe me, then I suppose I have no choice." Caleb casts a glance at his work before purposefully moving around the desk, rolling his sleeves back over his arms. "To the bath then." Caduceus grins widely. He picks up the tray once more and follows Caleb through the Xhorhouse, to the bath they've installed for their own use. There's something to be said about a private bath. It's always clean and fragrant and only needs a touch of magic to be the perfect temperature. The privacy is also nice, though Caduceus has never bothered much with modesty. A body is a body, what's there to be concerned over? He sets the tray on a shelf and starts to disrobe, throwing his clothes over a nearby chair. Caleb is much more neat about it, removing each article and folding it. He's lean and pale, arms striped in scars, and others across his body. There's a knotted one on his chest which looks as though he's been impaled, and countless signs of battle. His skin is a landscape of struggle, and Caduceus finds himself curious of the stories behind each one. He looks down at himself. He'd been pristine once. Unmarked. Now the evidence of an adventuring life has started spreading across his own skin. The pucker of burns from Nott's exploding arrow. The long, thin lines of claw marks. Little knots where contusions have left permanent bumps. The only injuries which haven't left visible scars are the times of near-drowning. Those scars he feels in a thick smoke or when panting from exertion, when his lungs threaten to seize, and he’s taken by a coughing fit. His ear twitches at a faint splash. Caduceus looks up in time to catch Caleb sinking beneath the water, until it laps at his shoulders. His face reddens from the heat, his freckles standing out in sharp relief. He emits a soft sigh, the lines of stress in his face and across his shoulders starting to loosen. "You were right, Mr. Clay. Sometimes a break is necessary." Caleb splashes his face with water, scrubbing around his nose and brow and chin especially, where new growth peppers his jawline. Caduceus smiles and grabs a bar of soap before he joins Caleb in the water. "I find a calm mind often opens new avenues we may not have seen before." "Very true, though a calm mind is something I rarely have." Darkness shades Caleb's face for a moment. He ducks his head under the water, soaking his hair, before he rises again, pushing it up and out of his face. Caduceus hums and rubs his fingers over the soap. "You just need to learn to relax," he says, and he tilts his head. "I could help, if you want." Caleb blinks at him, and red paints the bridge of his nose and the top of his cheeks. "Eh, help? I don't... um... " "I could wash your hair," Caduceus clarifies, gesturing with the soap. Sometimes, he thinks every member of the Mighty Nein doesn't get enough physical intimacy, something he himself has been missing since the last of his family left. "My sister says I give great scalp massages." "Oh. Yes. That makes sense." Caleb coughs into his hand, and the tips of his ears turn a bright red. Perhaps the water is too hot. He stands, the water swirling just above his hipbones, and comes closer to Caduceus before turning to present his back, and a new array of scars and bruises. He heals so slowly, despite the magic they pump into him. He’s the squishiest member of the Mighty Nein, according to the others, and times like these, Caduceus agrees. Though he is not by far the weakest. Truthfully, Caduceus does not see any member as a weak link. They all have their skills and talents most useful in particular situations. Just as they all have their weaknesses where they must rely on one another to overcome them.. “Let me know if I hurt you,” Caduceus says as he lathers up the soap and threads sudsy fingers through Caleb’s hair. Standing, he’s a good two heads taller than Caleb, so it’s no trouble to work a good lather into the ginger strands. A low groan is Caleb’s response, but it’s not one of pain so Caduceus grins and rubs his blunt fingernails over Caleb’s scalp. A shiver runs across Caleb’s skin, but it can’t be because of the water’s temperature. Low curls of steam rise from the surface, bringing with them the fragrance of the oils Jester keeps dumping into the water. “This is far from pain, mein freund.” Caduceus chuckles as Caleb leans back toward him, body going visibly limp. “That’s what I want to hear.” Caleb hums, a sound not unlike Frumpkin’s purring, and tilts his head into Caduceus’ fingers. He lapses into silence, a companionable one, occasionally sighing with satisfaction as Caduceus finds a particularly troublesome spot. He scrubs his fingers lower, scratching through the finer hairs beneath the longer strands, and Caleb’s head tilts forward, exposing his nape. There are more scars here, hidden behind Caleb’s hair. Whisper-thin lines. What could have caused these, Caduceus wonders. He doesn’t dare ask. He’s worked too hard to encourage Caleb to relax. Queries about scars turn into reminders about the pain which caused them, and might cause Caleb to tense all over again. Caduceus files them away for another day. “Still okay?” Caduceus asks. Caleb groans, soft and quiet. “Your sister was right.” Caduceus laughs and his fingers drift lower, massaging at Caleb’s nape before fluttering out across the top of his shoulders, thumbs digging into knotted muscle. Caleb turns to jelly beneath him, and Caduceus chuckles again, pausing and resting his hands on Caleb’s shoulders. “Careful now. Wouldn’t want you to sink into the water and drown.” Caduceus takes a step back, finds the underwater shelf and sits, his tail flicking to drape across his thigh. He pulls Caleb back another step, between his knees, and resumes massaging the tense upper shoulders. They are of a height with Caduceus seated, and sudsy water dribbles from Caleb’s soapy hair. “I may fall asleep like this, Mr. Clay,” Caleb murmurs, and there’s a sleepy, unguarded quality to his voice that fills Caduceus with pride. “Then I’m doing my job right.” Caduceus finds a particularly stubborn knot and digs the heel of his thumb into it, until it unfurls beneath him and tension melts out of Caleb’s body. “Schiesse, that hurts,” Caleb says, and he grabs Caduceus’ knees under the water, fingers digging in as if to hold himself upright. “A good kind of hurt though, right?” Caleb sways back toward him. “Ja, it is.” Caduceus grins and grabs his shoulders, holding him in place. “Might wanna dip down real quick, Mr. Caleb, before that soap gets in your eyes.” “Yes. Of course.” Caleb hums to himself as he sinks below the surface for a moment, and then rises again, water cascading across his bare skin in a bubbly fall. It’s fascinating, to watch the various trails the water takes, before Caduceus shakes himself out of distraction and gets back to work. He gets lost in his own head sometimes. Less so, now that he has people to speak to rather than himself, but every once in a while, old habits rise up. Caduceus buries his fingers in Caleb’s hair, working the soap from the silky strands, fingers dragging behind Caleb’s ear to get a few stubborn soap-slicks. “One more time,” Caduceus says. Caleb nods and dips down, long enough for Caduceus to help him rinse the last of the soap free, before he stands again. He wobbles briefly, catching himself once more on Caduceus’ knees, until he catches his balance. “Better?” Caduceus asks. “Much.” Caleb drags his fingers through his own hair, scraping it back from his face, behind his ears. He draws in a long, steadying breath, and the air around him lacks the distinct tension he tends to carry like a physical weight. He looks younger, less burdened by the pain he carries. Caleb is a handsome human on his own, but relaxed and soft like this seems to make him seem even more so. “Good.” Caduceus sweeps up his own hair, pulling it over his shoulder, finger-combing it in preparation for washing. “You have my thanks,” Caleb says as he turns to face Caduceus, his lips pulled into a gentle smile, mouth still framed by a shadow of scruff. “And you were right. I did need this. You always seem to know these kinds of things.” “People’s needs aren’t all that complicated. It’s not hard to guess,” Caduceus says, reaching for the soap, but Caleb’s hand closes gently over his, warm from the bath, a few scars roughing the skin of his fingers. “Allow me,” Caleb says, slipping the soap out of reach. “It’s only fair.” “If you insist.” Caduceus leans forward, so that it is easier for Caleb to reach, and hums when a cupful of water splashes over his head and hair, trickling down the sides of his face. There’s something soothing about the slide of water over skin, something meditative. Caleb's hands then sink into his hair, and Caduceus melts, a groan rising in his chest. Caleb is gentle as he scrubs around the base of Caduceus' ears, but firm when he drags his blunt fingernails against Caduceus' scalp. He works a fine lather, the floral scent of lilac and berry filling the air around them, mingling with the oils of the bath. Caduceus hums a satisfied noise as Caleb breathes a laugh, smoothing the pads of his fingers into the base of Caduceus' head before dragging them up again. "It seems I am not unskilled myself," Caleb says. Caduceus smiles though Caleb can't see it behind the curtain of pink hair. "You have very talented hands," he agrees, and sinks a little further, surrendering to the relaxing scrub of Caleb's fingers, especially as they scratch through his undercut. "It is good to know they are useful for more than burning things," Caleb says, his tone light and offhand, but an edge of self-deprecation beneath. "We are the sum of our parts," Caduceus says slowly, taking care to choose his words, lest Caleb flee and shatter the moment. "And we're all capable of great deeds as well as terrible ones." "Yes. This is true." Caleb's hands wander around the base of Caduceus' ears, ever so gently, and Caduceus sighs happily. There's nothing quite like the soft touch of another in such a delicate spot. It never produces the same result as scratching them himself. "This is a good spot then, ja?" "Yeah." Caduceus' head sinks a little further, baring his nape entirely. Caleb hums a laugh. "Good to know." He gives the ears another gentle rub before his hands remove themselves. "Close your eyes, Mr. Clay. Time to rinse." He obeys and focuses on sensation as warm water courses over his head and hair, dripping down with suds, splashing into the water beneath him. Caleb works each cupful through his hair, until there's not a trace of soap remaining. By Melora, Caduceus shall sleep well tonight. "There. I think I've got it all." Caleb gathers up Caduceus' hair, twisting it into a loose braid off to the side. Caduceus waits for the last few drips to leave his brow before he opens his eyes and straightens, Caleb's fingers tucking the last of the braid in place. "If not, a little soap never hurt anyone," Caduceus says. Caleb chuckles. "Yes, so Jester tells me. Frequently." He cards fingers through his own hair, no longer slicked down to his head, and he gives Caduceus a suddenly keen look. "Mr. Clay, I am going to do something, and if it's not... eh... acceptable, please tell me." Caduceus tilts his head to the side a bit, the braid slipping over his shoulder. "All right." Caleb nods, as if to himself, and his tongue flicks over his bottom lip. He brushes a strand of hair from Caduceus' forehead -- escaped from the braid -- and he leans in. It takes a moment for Caduceus to connect the dots, to read Caleb's intent, before their mouths collide, and Caleb kisses him, his lips chapped and warm. He rests one hand on Caduceus' knee, the other on his shoulder, to brace himself. The kiss is gentle at first, a bare brush of lips, but when Caduceus doesn't immediately pull away, Caleb returns with a firmer pressure, a flick of his tongue to the seam of Caduceus' lips. It’s brief and testing and over far too soon. Caleb pulls back. There is wariness in his eyes, and the red flush has reappeared on his nose and cheeks and the tips of his ears. Caduceus licks his lips, which seem to tingle in the aftermath, echoing with the slight scrape of Caleb's mouth against his. "Was that all right?" Caleb asks. Caduceus examines the warmth flooding his belly, the flush of joy and satisfaction spreading out from his thumping heart. "Yeah," he says, and he smiles. "That was nice." "Nice?" "Well, to be honest Mr. Caleb, I don't have many points of comparison," Caduceus admits, though his inexperience isn’t something to be ashamed of. He's aware, however, that it might provide some clarification. "I did enjoy it." Caleb blinks, and then laughs, quiet and genuine. He briefly knocks their foreheads together. "I suppose as long as I haven't offended, then I'm okay with 'nice'." "No offense," Caduceus reassures, and the wariness in Caleb's eyes still concerns him. "But you know, Mr. Caleb, you don't have to -- I mean, I offered this because I care for your well-being. Don't think you owe me anything in return." Caleb squints, his brow furrowing. "You think I kissed you out of no real desire?" Again, his inexperience betrays him. Caduceus steadies himself with a long, slow breath. "I don't know. I'm not very good at this." "I've noticed." Caleb squeezes the back of his own neck, a touch of tension returning to him, ruining all of Caduceus’ hard work. "To be fair, neither am I. It's been a long time since I've allowed myself to have interest and express it. It's no secret that I'm a mess and I probably shouldn't, but..." He trails off, shakes his head, and his weight shifts away from Caduceus. He captures Caleb's hand before the wizard can fully turn, threading their fingers together. "We're all a mess," Caduceus says, because it's true. The Mighty Nein is composed of broken people, but all their edges fit together and make a functional whole. "You don't know the things I've done," Caleb murmurs, and there's something aching in his voice, something dark in his eyes. Caduceus needn’t even feel the hum of warmth at the nape of his neck, the whispered caution Melora offers him, because he’s well aware. "True. But I know the things you're doing, and some of the things you're trying to do, and that's good enough for me." He brushes his lips over Calebs knuckles, tastes the spiderweb thin scars. "I can't fix you. Only you can do that. But I can hold your hand if you'd like." Caleb sighs. "You are too good for us, Caduceus." The sound of his name on Caleb's lips makes a quiet joy bubble in his heart. "I don't think there's such a thing." Caduceus kisses Caleb's knuckles again before laying his other hand over it, sandwiching Caleb's between his. "Now we should enjoy the tea and snacks." As if hearing Caduceus and wishing to agree, Caleb's stomach audibly growls. He covers his face behind his palm. Caduceus chuckles. "Or maybe something more substantial." "No, no. I'm sure what we have here is fine." Caleb backs away, untangles his fingers, and clambers out of the bath, water streaming behind him. Caduceus averts his gaze, because it seems the thing to do, until the swish of a robe settles around Caleb's body. Only then does Caduceus climb out as well, twitching his tail to flick away excess moisture. Caleb, he notices, stares boldly at him. Not that it dissuades Caduceus in the least. He stands there dripping, letting Caleb look his fill, before the wizard fumbles for a robe and thrusts it Caduceus' direction. "You never cease to surprise," Caleb says. Caduceus laughs. "Are you referring to my behavior or my physique?" "Both." Caleb's voice has a ring of humor to it, teasing. He’s not filling the air with self-deprecation, so Caduceus considers that a win. Caleb sweeps up the tray before Caduceus can, pot and cups and plate rattling upon it. “What do you think? To the kitchen? The dining room? The--” He pauses to wrinkle his nose in an adorable expression which cuts years off his face. “--happy room?” Caduceus chuckles and squeezes the last of the water from his hair. He gathers up their clothes in each arm. “The kitchen. Easier to leave the dishes in the sink when we’re done.” “I’ve never known you to leave the dishes in the sink.” “Why save for tomorrow what I can do today?” Caleb tosses a smile over his shoulder, and something flutters warm and happy in Caduceus’ belly. “That sounds exactly like something you’d say.” “Well, I did just say it.” Caleb laughs, and it’s irrepressibly charming. They set up in the kitchen, around the small table that is really only sized for two as they tend to take their meals in the dining room. It’s quiet and intimate, and Caduceus soaks up the companionship as he sips his tea and leaves the snacks for Caleb. “You know, Mr. Caleb,” Caduceus says as savors the sweetness of the tea, “It doesn’t have to be anything more than this, if you’re worried. I’m not in any hurry, and we’ve got a lot of things on our plate to add complications.” Caleb wipes a crumb from the corner of his mouth and fiddles with the handle of his tea cup. “It would not bother you?” “It is what it is, not a burden or a stress, but a source of comfort and joy without expectations,” Caduceus says as he lowers his tea to the table, resting his hands around the cup. Caleb is silent a moment, contemplating the shade of his tea perhaps, hiding behind the cup, before he nods as if confirming something to himself. “All right,” he says. “That is fair and reasonable.” He smiles and rakes hair out of his eyes. “Would you feel better if we had a contract?” Caduceus teases, and is delighted by the flush of pink spreading over Caleb’s face. He snorts a laugh and puts down his empty teacup, swiping the last cookie from the plate. “I don’t think that’s necessary.” Caleb stands and circles the table, leaning in toward Caduceus. “I do, however, think I should sleep now.” Caduceus lifts his chin, looks up at Caleb, and chuckles as a few crumbs hangs on the corner of Caleb’s mouth. He sweeps them away with the pad of his thumb. “Sleep well,” Caduceus says. “I think I will. For once.” Caleb leans in, brushing their lips together, and Caduceus hums into the kiss, the faint scent of tea and cookies flavoring it. “Goodnight,” Caleb murmurs with a parting kiss to Caduceus’ brow, and then he’s gone, munching on the last of the cookies as he leaves. Caduceus finishes his tea, gathers up the dishes, and sets them in the sink. He contemplates leaving them for a brief second before he realizes he can’t, and washes them first. He chuckles to himself, thinking of Caleb commenting on it, and touches his chest where a warm blossom of unexpected delight has taken up residence. This is not the way he expected his night to have gone, but he’s not disappointed either. Life is an unexpected, complicated series of little moments, and while he might not know where this one is heading, he has faith it will take him to wonderful things.

****

a/n: I’d love to know what everyone thinks! This is my first time writing this pairing. :)

#Caleb widogast #caduceus clay #clayleb #critical role fanfic #caleb widogast/caduceus clay #draco watches critical role #draco writes critical role #critical role campaign two #set in the Xhorhouse

[mollymaymaukme]

Mollymauk x Reader: From Beyond the Grave, Part 14

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11,   Part 12, Part 13 , Part 14, Part 15

You release a breath you didn’t know you were holding when Caduceus stands and starts to direct the others around. Some were going to get more wood, others food for the morning, and the remainder were politely requested to vacate the area for a bit.

Once the room is cleared, not without some last calculating looks over their shoulders at you, Caduceus comes to stand before you three. “Those look quite nasty still. Let me go grab my more mundane tools for this.”

As he putters about Molly’s tail squeezes your waist. You look over and immediately have to look away again once you see the ragged pain on his face. You could try to tell yourself that it's from that horrid wound on his chest, but you know that's not entirely true.

You try and break the uncomfortable silence that fell across the three of you, which had never been your forte but you were desperate “I don’t think your friends like me very much.”

“Nonsense” None of you point out the way Molly’s voice cracks in his attempt to be joyous “They just need some time to warm up to you and digest the situation. . .”

“And the last time they met a stranger she got Mollymauk killed.” Caduceus adds as he comes back into the room with a basket of bandages, scissors, and some kind of muddy green paste in a jar.

The firbolg is unaffected by Molly’s glare. You perk up “Molly. . .” He is already lifting his shirt over his head and out of habit you help him get the fabric over his horns without getting snagged.

“Yes love?” He turns to look at you just as Nila is bringing out a pot of water and some rags.

“How did you. . .” You can’t continue that sentence. Even though you’d been able to feel it the moment he had been laid in the dirt, miles away, you couldn’t actually speak it aloud.

His heavy sigh makes you fear that he won’t answer your question at first. But as Caduceus begins to wash at the three deep tears in his chest with the rag he goes over the turn of events.

Starting from the kidnaping of several of their party member, causing you to wrap a hand about the ties of Yasha’s armband. His description of the battle was matter of fact and lacking most detail. And when he says with a small, pained grimace on his face that, “Beau got away though, He only let any of them retreat because he got me.” You immediately wish to curse the monks name.

You want to turn back time and make her trade spots with Mollymauk. You want to get to your feet right now so you can track her down and slap her. Make the vines entrap her while you stick a glave through her own chest.

But just as soon as those vicious thoughts sweep across your mind you stamp them out. These bursts of intense fury are not new to you. You often could be provoked into a tempest that spun fast and wild before dissipating not long after it had arose.

But Mollymauk had taught you to be more gentle and to think over these wishful actions rather than complete them on the whim. Patience.

His hand on your thigh is what you tether yourself to. As long as he remained here, living and breathing with you, you knew you could face these problems without untoward violence.

Once Mollymauk’s chest is cleaned, treated with the salve, and bandaged Caduceus turns his attention to you.

“Would you prefer one of your friends to do this?” He has not even finished his sentence before you are shaking your head. Nudity was more natural to you than clothes. A small huff escaping you as you remember Yora shoving an ill fitting shift over your head for the first time.

You discard your threadbare and moth eaten tunic to the side before going to unwrap you chest bandages. The strip of cloth is slack and heavily discolored, not only from spending so long in the ground but also because of the claws that had ripped through them.

You allow them to fall to the floor as they would no longer serve their use. Caduceus goes about cleaning the ragged wounds on your chest without comment on your casual actions.

A hiss escapes your lips as he applies the salve and Molly’s hand intertwined with yours to give it a sympathetic squeeze. The burn of the wound had not registered to your nerves until it was contrasted by this cold mixture. But as Caduceus wraps around your chest and up across your shoulder you find the pressure soothing.

Molly pokes at your balled up tunic. “We need to find you some new clothes” He makes a face “These ones are getting really gross.”

You roll your eyes, Caduceus tying off the wrappings, “Happens when you’ve been sleeping in the dirt for. . .” Only then did you realize that you weren’t really sure how long it had been since you’d died.

Your teasing tone fades away as you quietly ask “How long ago did the Carnival fall apart?”

Yasha is the one who answers you after a long moment of quiet as she adds the days “I think it was about five and a half weeks. . .almost two full months?” Her voice drawing upwards in unsurety at her calculations.

Two months. That means that for at least a month and a half you were in that horrid half alive state. Listening to Caduceus while the worry for Molly ate away at you and then slowly torturing yourself with past memories when all had fallen silent. Putting the time frame into perspective felt like falling into an endless pit as you try to match the long silences with the days that had passed.

When you clearly are not capable of responding the topic of conversation shifts slightly “I’ve got a few spare tunics that could fit you like a dress and plenty of older, ripped clothing that could be made into bandages and what not.” Caduceus offers as he sits back on this heels.

You offer the firbolg a small smile “I’d appreciate it, thank you.”

He stands up and with a final glance over you he lumbers into the only other door that led to a room you had not yet been in.

Molly’s fingers raise to run through your hair but he aborts this movement when he comes upon a gnarled snag. You scrunch your features as he tries to pick it apart with his talons.

“Leave it Moll’s, this needs to be combed out.” Yasha chides softly as she bats his hands away and gestures for you to come closer. The tiefling protesting with a whine as you slip away from his grip to sit on the ground in front of the barbarian.

You stick your tongue out at Molly, a warm feeling settling in your chest at the familiarity of this scene. Countless nights had been spent sitting in front of Yasha as she practiced weaving your hair into a variety of patterns and styles. Molly either lounging on your legs or off to the side messing with his tarot deck.

Yasha is separating the worst of the knots with her own comb and using her dagger to cut away the matted portions. “Tomorrow we should go to the river near here to clean you up.” She murmurs to herself as she gently untangles your hair.  

“Yeah. You stink.” Molly teases as he melts onto the floor beside you. Rolling onto his back to rest his head in your lap. You don’t miss the downward tug of his lips as the movement pulls uncomfortably at the wound on his chest.

Your fingers skim along the edge of his wrappings. Something about this was important. You just couldn’t remember what or why. The frustration was a constant thrum in the back of your thoughts as something tried to make itself known.

The more you tried to focus on it the further it seemed. Your brows furrow as the only thing you succeed in doing is giving yourself a headache. A clawed hand catches your own as it continues to mindlessly trace patterns across his chest.

You give your attention to your tiefling, a small smile spreading across both of your lips simultaneously. Molly holds your gaze as he pulls your hand towards his lips. Eyes closing as he presses a kiss to the back of your palm.

Tears well in your eyes as you remember, just hours before, the same action. But unlike then, there is no pain or agony marring his features. He is relaxed, a content smile on his lips, one fang poking out on the left side.

“Head straight” Yasha chides softly as her fingertips urge you to turn your gaze forward. The soft snick’s of her dagger cutting overgrown and matted locks back is a steady sound. You quickly blink away the tears so as to not give yourself away.

You are have a clear view of the temple doors that open to allow in the man and goblin. They both head over to the kitchen, not without a few lingering glances in your direction. You thought you might have seen some birds in the goblin, Nott’s, grip and some sticks in Calebs.

Molly can surely feel the way your hands, your whole body, tenses as the strangers enter. You know he probably watched you watch them. He had often commented on how he could judge your feelings towards people depending on how you watched them.

Those you disliked, or didn’t trust, you tracked them. Not unlike a predator might watch prey, unblinking. Your children from when you first met you watched over closely. The same attentiveness that you held for those you were wary of but it lacked the harshness and instead was warm. Around him, he said, you were much like a cat. All soft, slow blinks, long looks into the distance without really seeing anything as you let down your guard.

His thumb rubs soothing circles over the back of your hand but it does little to alleviate your stress. The strangers, patrons, from the circus were different. They only wanted and expected one thing from you. If they ever became unruly you had a whole new family that would chase them off.

These strangers held a sense of danger. They weren’t safe. People, Molly, died in their company. These strangers are fighters. They have claws and teeth sharper than yours. At least that's what your instincts told you. A primal sense that gave you gooseflesh in warning at their proximity. Danger.

“They’re good company to keep Y/n.” Molly sighs when you do not relax, eyes still trained on the door to the kitchen.

“If you want to end up dead.” It an unwarranted lash. You know that as soon as you glance down to see the hurt in Mollys features. He quickly schools his expression.

“Give them a chance at least.” His voice is pleading and you lower your gaze to the floor.

“I’ll try.” Its mumbled but when he squeezes your hand you know he heard.

“Done.” The barbarian says smoothing down the new plait.

You untangle your fingers from Molly to gently pat at your hair. It was smoothed and combed out as best as it could be without a thorough wash. Two braids on either side of you hair helped pin it out of your face but the rest was left to hang loose.

You turn to look over your shoulder and up to Yasha. “Thanks Yash.” You shoot her a smile and are presented with the slightest upward twitch of her lips.

“Its nothing.” She assures and you offer a hand up to her. She takes it and helps you stand, a small grunt of pain escaping you, her arm pulls you close to her. With Yasha sitting and you standing you are slightly taller. Wordlessly you wrap your arms around her as she lays her ear against your chest. “You are Molly’s Zuala.” Her voice is far quieter than normal, little more than a vibration against you. “I am glad you both did not stay buried, but we must make sure it does not happen again. If not for my sake than for his.”

“I will get stronger. Strong enough to keep all three of us here on this plane.” You solemnly promise.

Yasha chuckles softly as she pulls back, your fingers sliding out from where they had intertwined with her braids. “You were never some fragile flower. But I am glad you want to improve. . .” She pauses before adding teasingly “Wild Woman.”

You roll your eyes but don’t have the chance to retaliate your old title before the human woman, Beau, pipes up.

“Whose a wild woman?” Her arm was hanging onto the door as her body leaned into the temple.

You whip around, startled, but your vision fills with black and Molly is quick to catch you before you fall over. Your fingers drag over your face as you try to shake the black splotches from your eyes. The other hand has a white knuckled grip onto Molly’s forearm. Partly because you needed to stay upright but mostly because you needed to be sure that he was by you whilst you were impaired in the company of strangers.

“Oof. Is she okay?” Beau questions, voice louder--closer.

“Im fine.” You bite out lifting your eyes as your gaze flits about until it focuses on the monk. Instinctually you step back, out of Molly hold although you keep an iron grip on his arm.

The tiefling steps between you and Beau “Maybe not to close for awhile yet, eh?”

“Sorry for inquiring ‘bout your girlfriends well being.” She snarks sarcastically, raising her hands and backing up a few steps. “Anyone want any of these berries I found?” She looks past Molly and even further past you “Yasha?” Her gaze is searching. Oh. It seemed Beau had affections for the barbarian.

You huff in amusement. Already harboring dislike for the monk that had escaped with her life only because Molly gave his. She had no idea that Yasha would never return her feelings. Not for many more years yet at least. Mollymauk gives you a warning look and you refrain from going back to glaring at the monk.

Yasha looks over to you and you realize that she is wanting permission. Maybe not necessarily permission but whether you’d be okay if she left your side to go to her other friend. It warmed your heart and calmed your nerves slightly. So far you had not thought to fall back on your companions should these strangers not take well to you. Of course Yasha and Molly would take your side should their new group come to dislike you. You’d always have them to turn to. 

A small nod is all it takes to have the smallest hint of a smile from Yasha before she goes over to Beau. The monk makes some kind of sputtering sound in disbelief at the scene that just transpired. You can hear her whispering a “Really?!” to Yasha as Molly turns around to face you.

His hands go to your shoulders and smooth down your arms. You keep your gaze firmly fixed on the peacock feather on his cheek rather than meet his eyes. His thumb and forefinger gently grip your chin to tilt your head up. With a frown you look into his ruby eyes as his thumb runs across your cheekbones. “Loosen up a litte y/n. I won’t let anything happen to you.” His voice is quiet but his tone is fierce.

You nod and tuck your head into the space between his neck and shoulder. “I know. I just feel like everything; sound, color, touch. . .everything is more intense ever since I woke up.”

Lids flutter closed as clawed fingertips gently run across your scalp. “We’ll get through it together.” He promises.

You wrap your arms around his back and relish in the feeling of his chest expanding and depressing with breath, with life. “And I’m not your girlfriend.” Lips turning down in displeasure as though you’d just eaten something foul.

A deep, throaty chuckle vibrates across every place where you are pressed against him. “No you’re not” He agrees resting his chin atop your head as he continues to stroke through your hair. “You’re so much more.”

@lizziepopanime, @spirithorse100, @rednighthood, @delpyelp, @high-king-margo-hanson, @notstinglesstoo, @sir-knit-a-lots, @valiantlyminiaturecreature, @sir-knit-a-lots, @valiantlyminiaturecreature, @mini-kunoichi-universe, @bearlypolar, @holyfuckareallusernamestaken, @kittoftherealm, @shirleyhush, @liciauka, @hugedumpsterfire, @krazykendraisnotinsane, @sarmar29, @littlefluffycloud, @rainbowtown, @ll-wanderlust-ll

#mollymauk #mollymauk x reader #m9 #mightynein #mollymauk fic #mollymauk fanfiction #caleb #yasha #beau #frumpkin #jester #fjord #nott #critical role #critical role fanfiction #cr2 #fix it fic #mollymauk tealeaf

[fajority]

Five times Caleb expressed physical affection exclusively through his cat, and one time he didn’t

I wrote another thing! This is, by the way, @fraeuleinjuhu‘s new Critical Role sideblog, so anyone who wants to follow me here, hop on board. 

Thank you @hippity-hoppity-brigade for being the best & nicest beta I could have hoped for <3

1- It takes Caleb a while to realize what Molly's problem is. In his defense, he does have a few of his own problems that take up about 90% of his capacity at any given time, and while their group has gotten almost uncomfortably close, Caleb has tried his best to stay on its outskirts.

He only notices Molly getting increasingly sharp and snappish with them at first, countering Beau's jibes with more and more cruel retorts, until Yasha takes him aside for what he assumes must be a more or less stern talking-to.

Caleb watches Molly slink around the bar they've wound up in this time, getting steadily drunker and louder. He sits down on the chair next to Yasha for a minute, placing his feet in her lap and tipping the chair back on its back legs dramatically.

Yasha gives him a few absent pats on the legs and then gently removes them from her thighs, and Caleb can practically feel Molly's mood drop.

Ah.

Of course: the circus seemed like a pretty affectionate bunch, even if they didn't always like each other. Their little motley crew is different, warier. More distant, at least physically.

Molly is touch starved and he has no tools to work with it. This place doesn't have a brothel. There are no strangers around that seem susceptible to his particular brand of charm.

Caleb's first idea is to message Jester to give Molly a good long hug, but when he turns to look for her, she's nowhere to be seen. Fjord is missing as well, so Caleb decides against investigating further just in case.

Molly has slumped on a barstool, elbows on the bar, his face in his hands. There's a grin on his face still, but it's holding on by a thread.

Caleb snaps his fingers, and Frumpkin jumps up onto his knees from under the table as if he's always been there, just out of sight.

He makes his way to Molly slowly, cradling Frumpkin to his chest. His decision is made, but that doesn't have to mean he likes it.

"Mollymauk," he greets and gets into the chair next to him. Molly gives him a grunt and an indecipherable stare.

Oddly enough, Caleb has found that he doesn't mind the red eyes at all: He's not very fond of pupils and irises anyway. He finds it much easier to maintain eye contact if he can't see the eyes fixating on him back.

"You look down today," Caleb starts, wavering. "I'd offer you a hug but I'm afraid I don't really, uh, do that kind of thing." Molly raises an eyebrow.

"I'd figured, or I probably would've tried to drape myself over you at some point this evening."

It has all the components of a confession, but it doesn’t sound like one: too annoyed, almost angry.

Caleb shakes off the image of Molly coming up behind his chair, leaning into his space, hands on his chest in a loose sort of hug. A sharp toothed grin pressed to his cheek. It sounds nice in theory, but in practice it will just feel like being crowded, short of breath and panicky and too much weight on him all at once, Caleb knows this.

"But Frumpkin does. I can lend him to you whenever you - uhm - crave - uh - physical contact, if you'd like."

He holds out a hand, and Frumpkin scales his shoulder and walks along his arm towards Molly.

Molly stares at him some more, or at Frumpkin, precariously perching on Caleb's hand. It's hard to say.

"Okay," he says finally. "Sure. Thank you."

He holds out his own arm, and Caleb grips it firmly, making a bridge for Frumpkin to cross, and then he's a purring scarf around Molly's neck, and Molly squeezes Caleb's hand once, very briefly, before he starts scritching Frumpkin behind the ears, mindful of his claws.

Caleb feels himself relaxing a fraction, and he pulls back his hand. That went well, he thinks.

"You can keep him until morning, if you want," he offers before he's even finished the thought. Molly looks at him again, and this time Caleb thinks he can see surprise in his expression.

"You don't need him?"

"I do, but he's always with me, no matter where he is location-wise." Caleb taps his head.

A grin very slowly unfurls on Molly's face. "Are you telling me you are feeling this?" He reaches up with his other hand to scritch under Frumpkin's chin, and Caleb gets an incredibly weird double feeling tugging him in two directions at once.

He tries for a middle ground, which is neutral honesty. "It's - not directly. I get the secondary impressions, if that makes sense."

Molly hums, thoughtful. "What are those?"

Caleb hates every second of this but he started this conversation to make Molly feel better, so he better see it through. He sighs.

"He feels… comfortable. Loved."

Frumpkin jumps down into Molly's lap and rolls up into a ball, still purring loudly.

Molly hums again, one hand settling on the cat. "I'd kill to have that," he says, sounding half serious. "Okay, I'd love to hold onto him until morning, but only if you don't spy on me."

"What would I even -" Caleb clamps his mouth shut on a memory, too late.

"You remember that I sleep naked," Molly grins.

"Vividly," Caleb confirms, and hightails it out of the conversation.

*

2- It happens while they're fighting a group of trolls attacking their camp at night: Beau is, as always, the first to get into the melée, jumping up and onto one of them and delivering a series of kicks and hits against its jaw - until it gets a handful of her and flings her against the nearest tree. She stays slumped against the trunk for a couple of seconds, enough for everyone to see her but not enough to reach her: Jester is occupied healing Yasha, her duplicate trying its best to get the troll to attack it instead of going after Beau again, and none of the others have healing spells or potions left. It's been a long day.

Caleb fires spells left and right, and out of the corner of his eye sees Beau move to sit up ever so slowly.

She's going to get back up and get herself killed for good, he thinks, and snaps his fingers. Maybe he can't reach her in time, but Frumpkin will.

And sure enough, Frumpkin goes from thin air to pointedly curling up in Beau's lap, nuzzling into her hands as she automatically reaches down to him.

Between two spells, he sees her shoot him a look that doesn't quite say fuck you, but it's a near thing. He motions for her to stay put. "We've got this, don't get yourself in trouble for no reason!"

She looks like she's considering to yell back a few choice words, but decides against it. Her whole body is shaking with the sheer effort of staying upright. She doesn't stop petting Frumpkin.

Caleb feels a wave of affection for her that is and isn't his own. He casts Haste on Nott, who brings down the troll that attacked Beau with three clean shots. He flashes her a proud smile and runs over to Beau, as if he could even shield her from any damage. As if she can't handle herself better than he will ever be able to.

It doesn't matter. He's out of spells, no use for anyone. He might as well get out of harm's way.

He sits down next to her, and she pointedly doesn't turn to look at him, although maybe that's her spine acting up. She did hit that tree pretty hard.

"I don't need you to protect me," she says.

Kiri could knock you out right now, he doesn't say. "I'm not protecting you," he says instead, holding out his hands, palms facing outward. "I'm tapped. If anything, you're protecting me."

Beau starts laughing and then very quickly stops again on a choked outbreath. "Thanks for that, Caleb," she says. It falls flat, like almost everything she says, but he thinks she might actually mean it this time.

They sit together and watch the last troll fall as Molly cuts its tendons and Fjord slashes its throat once it's down.

Beau's breathing rattles in her chest like an old woman's. It's all Caleb can do to wait until Yasha comes running and casts her Healing Hands.

"Thank you," he says in Celestial, sung on a sigh.

She gives him a confused look. "I am healing her, not you. Why are we speaking Celestial?"

"She never says thank you. I wanted you to hear it, but I didn't want to make her feel bad about it."

"Thanks, Yasha", Beau says, exhausted. The rattling sound has stopped, but she's still shaking ever so slightly. "That sounded nice. I hope you weren't talking shit about me."

Yasha gives him a pointed look, and Caleb gets up and offers Beau a hand. "Sorry about that. Do you want us to stop?"

Beau takes his hand. Frumpkin jumps onto her shoulder as she slowly gets up, spine popping. She leans her cheek into him, and Caleb feels a shadow of his cat satisfaction. He hides a smile about her conflicted expression.

"I mean, I don't appreciate being talked about, but it does sound really fucking nice."

"I thanked her for healing you, because you were looking that awful," Caleb volunteers.

Yasha flashes him a discreet thumbs-up.

"You're welcome," she says, and repeats it in Common, too.

"Fuck you too," Beau says, and ironically, it's like insults are the only thing she can make sound affectionate. Frumpkin butts his head up against her chin and purrs loudly.

*

3- When Caleb wakes up, screams still ringing in his ears and the heavy memory of smoke in his lungs, Nott's weight on his chest is just this side of suffocating, and he pries her off with shaking hands. She makes a small sound, turning her head in his direction, and he snaps Frumpkin into existence as quietly as he can.

The cat stretches out next to her, almost as long as she is when she is balled up like this. She settles her arms around Frumpkin as Caleb backs away into a corner of the room, choking on memories both real and made up.

Nott slings her arms around Frumpkin in her sleep, and this time Caleb doesn't feel the suffocation of it, just the quiet reassurance. He calms down in increments.

Forgetting nightmares is hard when you have a photographic memory, but Nott's steady breathing helps. When he strains his ears, he can hear the faintest purring.

I don't deserve any of this he thinks, and as he does, Frumpkin lets out a pitiful mewl, and Nott opens her eyes, glowing yellow in the dark.

Caleb doesn't try to hide anything like he would from anyone else. He just sits there and breathes through it, wheezing until he's panting until he's huffing until he's as quiet as he'll get.

Nott is watching him, and then she very deliberately reaches out a hand and starts petting Frumpkin.

The effect is immediate: Just like that, Caleb knows he's safe. More than that: he's worthy of it, too, just this once. He shrugs off the nightmare like a heavy coat and instantly feels exhausted, ready to fall asleep.

And then Nott’s small voice fills the quiet, and for once, she doesn’t sound skittish or hysterical, just sure.

“I know you think that your brokenness is the only redeeming factor about you, that breaking was the only indicator in all this that you're a good person - and I won't try to change your mind about it, although I think you're wrong - but even if that were the case, that still doesn't have to make it a bad thing if you let yourself heal. It's not a betrayal to your parents if you get better. If you let yourself be a good person in the time it takes to learn what you have to learn, it won't mean you disrespect their memory. I hope you know that.”

In the dark, in the privacy of their room, with nothing but Nott’s and Frumpkin’s glowing eyes watching him, he can almost believe it.

"Thank you," he tells Nott, and gets back under the covers. She blinks once, a cat smile, like he taught her. Frumpkin blinks back.

*

4- The next time Yasha leaves, Caleb sends Frumpkin to go with her.

She tries to hand him back over. "I don't know how long I'll be gone," she says.

"Take him anyway." Caleb bends down to Frumpkin to give him instructions. "Go with her until she tells you to leave. Then come back to us."

Frumpkin scales Yasha's leg, and she scoops him up. He climbs her arm and knits himself around her shoulders, and Yasha reaches out a hand to pet him, automatic.

"Don't spy on me", she says, and Caleb promises. "Friends, remember?" he says in Celestial.

"I'll hold him to it. Kick him in the shins at regular intervals so he can never be off guard here," Beau adds, and Caleb nods.

She nods back at him slowly, and turns away. They watch her leave, her huge form and the bright orange scarf getting smaller ever so slowly.

He feels intermittent bursts of warmth throughout the next days, and only thinks of checking in briefly, not only because Beau is holding up her end of the bargain and kicks him in the shins in the most unexpected moments.

Somehow, he doesn't want to lie to Yasha. Even if when he set out to gain her trust he did so because she is scary and strong and it's always good to have someone intimidating on your side. Something about the word friends keeps him from betraying her trust.

He's getting a signature feeling from each member of the Mighty Nein now, almost, he ponders. He can usually tell who snagged Frumpkin without looking: Nott feels calm and safe, Molly feels like a smile. Beau feels affectionate. Yasha just feels warm.

On the fifth day, Caleb feels small and unprotected and off the way he sometimes does; it takes him an embarrassingly long time to link it to the absence of the faint bursts of reassurance he so quickly got used to.

"Do you think Yasha's okay?" he asks Beau at dinner.

She stares at him for a couple of seconds, the way she does when he addresses her without preamble, and then shrugs.

"Don't know. She can probably handle herself."

She sounds miserable as well.

Caleb snaps his fingers once, and then again. Frumpkin comes running towards him, leaping into his arms and nuzzling his hand. Caleb feels the familiarity and closeness, but this time, it's not enough. They are too close in mind.

Frumpkin jumps back to the floor and starts pawing at Beau's trouser leg until she scoops him up with a sigh. She sinks her fingers into his fur slowly, and Caleb is struck with a feeling he barely remembers - compassion. Pity. Frumpkin attempts to lick Beau's face, and she leans back with a grimace: "No - what - that's weird, Caleb - "

"Oh - yes - sorry - " He calls Frumpkin off, who immediately goes to placidly lying in Beau's arms, the picture of a harmless pet. She eyes him suspiciously.

"Did you - did you, like, tell him to lick my face? Because that's really weird," Beau repeats, and Caleb is sure if he gets any redder his head will just explode.

"I didn't think of it as such," he tries to explain, fumbling. "Frumpkin just felt sorry for you and that is what he does when he feels that way, and it has been a while so I didn't remember in time to stop him."

"Frumpkin felt sorry for me." Beau asks, flatly. Caleb nods, and hopes this conversation will be over soon, so he can lie down and hopefully die and stop thinking of situations in which Beau probably also thought that Frumpkin was a part of Caleb in the same way his hands are. All of the laps and shoulders he's sat on. That time he licked Kiri's face. "Mmmhm." Beau gives him a considering look.

He tries and fails to look inconspicuous.

"So, how, how close are you to him? Can you, like, read his mind? Are you his mind?"

"Somewhere in between those two?" Caleb tries. "It's a connection, but he's still a cat. But I still made him. So he's also a part of me, but just a bit."

"So, before Frumpkin, did you never feel sorry for anyone? That strictly his job?"

Caleb feels the blood drain from his face all at once. He sits up stiffly. In Beau's arms, Frumpkin goes completely still.

"I didn't-"

Beau is already shaking her head, horrified. "Oh no, nope, no, I wasn't alluding to that, can we pretend that never happened please -"

Caleb nods gratefully. Frumpkin, less forgiving, lightly nips at Beau's finger. "I know, sorry," Beau tells him, and Caleb relaxes a fraction.

"I just meant," Beau tries again after a moment of silence. Caleb spends a few seconds wishing he had a God to pray to for this to end. To not loop back to before Frumpkin.

"I just meant, maybe you shouldn't distinguish - quite so much. Maybe you can just say you felt sorry."

"But it was Frumpkin. I am just miserable because he hasn't gotten anyone to pet him today and I'm afraid for Yasha and I am hating how lost I am without him. Then you picked him up and he felt - that."

He pauses for a second. "He's better at the interpersonal stuff than I am. You might have noticed."

Beau laughs, a hearty, bellowing sound that lasts until Frumpkin digs his claws into her thigh and she lets out an undignified yelp.

"I - yeah, I might have some idea," she says.

Caleb grins, just a little.

*

5- When they finally find Kiri's parents and leave her with them, Jester is the one it hits the hardest.

Nott is a little teary eyed as well, but she manages to talk through it. "It's almost like we're good people," she tells Caleb at some point, and he nods.

"She made it easy to be," he says.

Everyone is a little subdued, but it's most obvious with Jester. She's walking a little off to the side, not taking part in any of their conversations. When Fjord splits off to talk to her after a while, she sends him off with a shake of her head.

Maybe she wants to be alone. But maybe she wouldn't say no to some wordless comfort, Caleb thinks, and snaps Frumpkin into existence on top of Jester's head, nestled between her horns.

She gives a quiet yelp and sends him a startled look, but doesn't pry Frumpkin off, so Caleb leaves him there, playing with strands of her hair as they walk on. He makes sure his claws are drawn in.

When he feels a brief burst of satisfaction that isn't his own a few minutes later, he chances another look: Jester has reached her tail up above her head and is using it to scritch Frumpkin behind the ears. Frumpkin has closed his eyes and is dozing in the sunlight that filters in through the leaves of the trees they're walking beneath. She's still quiet, but she seems less sad.

By evening, the strange spell has worn off, and Jester is back to her old self: Talking excitedly, scribbling in her notebook, telling everyone who will listen about the great deed they have done by rescuing this child from a monster and reuniting her with her family.

Caleb realizes for the first time how much they need her to keep them sane and kind and happy, and Frumpkin carefully climbs off her head and onto her shoulder to press his face into her cheek. She sets down her tankard of milk to pet him, and then grabs him around the middle and hands him back. "Thank you for your cat, Caleb," she says, in the drawn out sing song voice she gets when she's trying to remember to be polite. "He was very cute and helped me a lot. But I also think he needs more flowers."

"I know, but I can't make them stick to him!" Nott butts in, "They just fall down when he goes poof. Do you know a spell for that?"

"Oooh, that would be a great spell. Let Frumpkin take flowers to the other realm!" Jester slams her fist on the table, startling Beau, who had been resting her head on it.

Caleb smiles. "If I come across one, I will teach it to you," he promises. Then, on a whim, he leans closer to Jester and lowers his voice to ask: "Are you okay?"

Jester gives him a startled smile. "Oh, I'm fine," she says cheerfully, "Just, you know, I have never made any friends before you guys, so it's hard to leave one behind."

Caleb has the sudden urge to hug her, and quells it by letting Frumpkin jump on the table and push into her hand again.

"Well, we'll stay together, so that's six friends you don't need to worry about losing," he tries.

Jester nods emphatically as she pats Frumpkin on the back a little too hard. "And we'll get those diamonds so I won't need to worry about losing you in other ways, too."

She scrunches up her face and headbutts Frumpkin before he can, and if Frumpkin steps on Jester's plate in the following playfight, it's not like anyone but Caleb sees it, so it can remain his secret.

"Yes", he says. Fjord, who is seated two chairs over, starts sneezing in earnest, so Caleb reluctantly disappears Frumpkin, making Jester almost faceplant into the table.

*

6-  When they reach Erdeloch, Caleb thinks it should make Fjord as happy as he gets: Caleb has never seen a body of water so big that it meets the horizon in the distance, and he thinks to himself that they probably won't get any closer to an actual ocean in their travels.

But Fjord is quiet and withdrawn even when Jester invites him to come swimming.

He gets in the water, but there's no joy in his practiced strokes.

Something is troubling him. From the way Molly is watching Fjord from the shore, Caleb thinks he probably sees it too, or knows more than he does. Maybe Fjord had another nightmare.

He summons Frumpkin, who eyes the water suspiciously, and pets him absently.

"Do you think he might be cheered up by a cuddly familiar?" Caleb asks Molly abruptly.

Molly raises an eyebrow. "Fjord is allergic," he reminds Caleb, and Caleb nods. "I know," he says. "But I still have enough incense."

Molly's other eyebrow joins the first. "Oh, that sounds like an incredible waste of resources. I love it."

Caleb knows he probably shouldn't take that as an encouragement, but he does: He gathers coal from their campfire and starts the ritual right then and there, on the shore of the lake, where they can all watch him - and they do, he's half aware of Nott's curious gaze and Jester's questions, of Molly's quiet answers from his other side. He's briefly swamped by a feeling he hasn't had in more than a decade: he feels at home, for the long minutes that his mind is occupied with the ritual just enough to not be thinking how much he doesn't deserve them, and the others in his peripheral, just enough not to crowd him.

Then it's over, his mind snaps back to alertness, and Frumpkin nuzzles his hand, otter-shaped. His fur is softer and more dense than Caleb is used to.

"What is that?" Molly asks, immediately fascinated.

"It's an otter. Pretty close to a cat, but they live in water," Caleb explains. Molly holds out a hand, and Frumpkin pushes his head into it just like he did as a cat. Molly gives a delighted bark of laughter. "Incredible," he says, smiling bright.

"He is pretty good," Caleb says, in a rare burst of pride. He doesn't feel exposed and lonely the way he did when Frumpkin was a sparrow, and this way he is not wary of the water the way Frumpkin-the-cat was. Caleb nods down at him and smiles. "Go bother Fjord," he instructs.

Frumpkin chirps at him and flits off, weirdly off-balance until he reaches the water, and then he's streamlined and as elegant as the cat was on land.

Fjord is diving when Frumpkin reaches him, so Frumpkin dives after him without hesitation.

Caleb looks away from the stilling surface of the water and catches Molly, Jester and Nott intently staring at the lake. After a second, Jester nudges him with an elbow. "Well, go spy on him! We want to know what's happening!"

Caleb looks to Molly. He doesn't know when Molly of all people became his moral compass, but here they are. Maybe it’s because he’s always sure, even if his moral rules only make sense to him.

"What are you waiting for? And tell us everything!" Molly makes a shooing motion as if to push Caleb into the water, and Caleb goes blind and deaf, with Jester and Molly habitually holding onto his elbows so he won't topple over.

Frumpkin has almost reached Fjord when he gets there, still on his way to the bottom of the lake, which is, as Caleb can see now, littered with little colorful pebbles that seem to emit a faint glow. Fjord grabs a handful of them, and Frumpkin does the same, taking one with little blue swirls on it and holding it carefully as sand muddies the water where they stirred it.

Fjord looks over to Frumpkin, and for a second, Caleb sees surprise on his face, melting into a genuine smile. He slowly holds out a hand as if trying to gain Frumpkin's trust. Frumpkin puts the stone he picked up into it, startling Fjord into a laugh that leaves his mouth in a few bubbles that rise towards the surface. Reminded of where he is, he quickly pushes off the ground and swims up, Frumpkin at his heels.

Caleb relates everything to the others as it happens, and feels Jester's hand tighten on his elbow in response.

Fjord reaches the surface and gulps in air, sputtering a bit.

"Hey!" he calls over to the two colorful globs Frumpkin can barely make out in the distance. "I found a friend!"

Frumpkin chitters and swims around him to clamber on his head.

"Well done, Fjord!" that's Jester's voice, drifting over from the shore.

"Say hi to Frumpkin!" comes Molly's shout, a second later. "Caleb made him this way specifically so you could stop sneezing!"

For a second, Fjord stiffens. He probably doesn't appreciate anything that even remotely resembles a prank, after the kind of childhood he seems to have had. Frumpkin jumps off his head and swims around him in a wide circle to gage his expression.

Fjord gives Frumpkin an appraising look, and then it eases into a grin.

"Thanks, Caleb," he says, quietly, and gives Frumpkin a pat. "'ppreciate that."

"You're welcome!" Caleb yells across the lake before he can talk himself into pretending he wasn't just spying on his friend, and he pulls back just in time to hear Jester cheer and Mollymauk give a big, hearty laugh.

After that, Frumpkin and Fjord set out to collect as many of the pebbles as they can for a delighted but decidedly dry Nott, and between the splashes and the low, encouraging voice Fjord uses to talk to Frumpkin, Caleb feels well and truly appreciated.

It has been a while since that feeling last wasn't associated with murder and obedience.

Caleb leans back on his elbows between the two tieflings and allows it to heal him the tiniest bit.

#critical role #caleb widogast #I wrote this and then I found out that Travis would indeed like an otter shaped Frumpkin #also this is not intended to be shippy but caleb seems to be in love with everyone because I am #fajority writes