#caleb rp

Unexpected Guest at Grandma’s House

( @awaited-wish as MC )

The Bloomshore District had that soft, lived in kind of charm. Sea air drifting between narrow streets, flower boxes leaning a little too far over wrought iron railings, and the faint hum of someone always baking something sweet a few doors down.

Grandma Josephine’s house stood like it always did. Warm paint, slightly uneven shutters, and a front step that creaked in exactly the same place every time.

After reaching for the gate latch… you could see a pair of shoes on the porch. Men’s shoes. Polished. Military neat. Before you could even process it, the door opened.

And there he was.

Caleb.

(apple dividers)

-𝚆𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚘𝚗 𝙲𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚋 𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚑𝚒𝚖𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 (ℕ𝕊𝔽𝕎 𝕎𝕣𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘)

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

You had made your way down the dark hall that led to Caleb’s bedroom, thunder still sending goosebumps against your skin, the childhood fear still having leached into your life. It.. couldn’t hurt to bother Caleb for some company?

As you pushed in the door, there was Caleb, but the casual familiarity evaporated instantly, replaced by a cold, sharp shock of intrusion. He was lying back against the pillows, his body completely nude, rendered in stark, pale contrast against the heavy, dark duvet. His eyes were closed, his jaw tight with a concentration that made his profile unrecognizable, soft begging whines escaping past his lips.

The air in the room felt impossibly heavy, charged with a humid heat that had nothing to do with the weather outside. Your gaze couldn’t help but get snagged immediately on the object clutched in his hand—a scrap of fabric, undeniably yours. He was holding it loosely, the fabric draped across the apex of his thigh, its blue hue a jarring splash of color against his skin. His hips canting into his hand pathetically, his teeth having taken in his bottom lip between them in a desperate attempt to keep control.

He was oblivious to you, lost in a rhythm that was slow, deliberate, and deeply private. The brief silences of the room you could hear the faint, slick sound of movement, amplified to a roar in your ears. You stood there, frozen in the doorway, unable to retreat. The intrusion on his private moment was intimate, total, and horrifyingly beautiful in the way the light caught the tension in his shoulders and the curve of his throat. There he was, reduced to this singular, raw moment of exquisite exposure, using a piece of you to anchor his own solitary pleasure. So deep in your thoughts, you hardly noticed when his noises stopped.

❝𝙿-𝚙𝚒𝚙𝚜𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚊𝚔?❞

Nobody  discovered  Ha  Woojoo,  he  clawed  his  way  into  a  camera’s  line  of  sight  and  refused  to  leave  it.

The  training  years  did  what  they  do  to  everyone  who  survives  them;  they  took  a  stubborn  kid  and  filed  him  down  into  someone  the  industry  could  use.  Rehearsals  that  ran  past  midnight,  injuries  he  learned  to  tape  over  before  anyone  in  makeup  could  ask  questions.  He  got  good  at  swallowing  complaints  before  they  ever  reached  his  throat.  Somewhere  in  there,  he  became  the  one  who  showed  up  first  and  left  last,  the  one  the  staff  stopped  worrying  about  because  worrying  about  Woojoo  never  seemed  to  change  anything;  he  had  already  handled  it.

On  camera  he's  easy:  quick  with  a  joke,  quicker  to  turn  an  interviewer's  awkward  pause  into  something  the  whole  room  laughs  about.  That's  the  Ha  Woojoo  the  fans  know,  and  it's  real,  mostly  —  just  incomplete.

Off  camera,  he  shrinks  the  world  down  to  the  size  of  the  people  he  trusts.  Years  of  finding  out  which  smiles  were  paid  for  taught  him  to  hold  the  people  he  cares  about  a  little  closer,  a  little  more  carefully  than  the  job  would  prefer.  He  hasn't  let  it  turn  him  cold,  though  it  would've  been  easier  if  it  had.

What  people  remember,  when  they  actually  get  close  enough  to  remember  anything,  isn't  the  choreography.  It's  a  hand  on  a  trainee's  shoulder  before  she  walks  out  shaking,  or  him  quietly  covering  for  a  staffer's  mistake  so  nobody  above  them  ever  hears  about  it.  It's  the  half-second  delay  before  he  lets  go  of  someone's  arm  when  the  crowd  gets  too  loud,  like  he's  still  deciding  whether  it's  safe  to.

Vox Machina: - Vex'ahlia - Vax'ildan - Keyleth - Pike Mighty Nein: - Caleb - Yasha - Caduceus - Jester - Fjord (upon request)