#cla writes

[calebslittleapple]

feels like home: sticky fingers

After a few weeks apart, Caleb reconnects with his Pip-squeak, only to find that she's pretty beaten up after a mission. Fortunately, Caleb knows exactly what to do to take care of his girl. From one moment to the next, everything changes, and what starts as an innocent interaction quickly evolves into something else entirely... two-shot, post club-interactions, but can be read as a standalone as well (though, this is part of my feels like home series).

Pairing: LaDS Caleb x MC (she/her)

Genre: Smut (with feelings); chapter one is M, chapter two is E; 18+

CW: Codependency; Pip-squeak as an endearment; MC is named "Emme" short for "Emme Sea" lmao; Finger Sucking; sensual massage; Vaginal Fingering; humping

Also on AO3

Chapter 1/2

After that dizzying night at the club, things settle back into the same old, same old, mostly because work’s been insane for both of them. At least, that’s what Caleb’s telling himself.

Naturally, he can’t stop thinking, feeling, reeling over the memory of his sweet girl, his beloved Pip-squeak, coming apart in his arms. Along with that, the way she’d woken early the day after, slipped from bed and made him breakfast.

That was normally his role to fall back into, but it was a domestic kind of sublime to walk into her kitchen, and see her standing there, cooking bacon, while wearing one of his t-shirts—old, stretched out, and way, way too big for her.

Caleb couldn’t put his finger on why, but he liked the way she looked in his clothes. Felt a bit like she was wrapped up in him. The possessive pieces of his heart shifted upon seeing her there, ever so slightly falling into place as if a simple moment like that could make his fractured heart whole once more.

They didn’t talk about what happened, because, of course, they didn’t. But she was different. A little surer in her touch and teasing. Hands lingered as the food was shared between them. Her eyes fell on his lips, the line of his neck, the broad stretch of his chest, which was purposefully emphasized by the two-sizes-too-small tank top he was wearing.

He flexed some, and she noticed that too. What was the point of having a physique like his, if not to show it off to the one person he’d crafted it for? Judging from the way her chewing stopped and how her eyes lingered, his many, many hours spent working out weren’t going to waste.

“See something you like, Pip-squeak?” he teased, but his voice was raspier than he’d thought it would be. Catching her staring was painfully intoxicating.

“Hmm?” she replied while shaking her head a bit. “What did you say?”

Caleb huffed out a laugh. “Pass the syrup.”

Picking up the nearby vessel, Emme quietly cursed as some of the sticky liquid sloshed over the edge and onto her fingers. After setting the syrup down, she stood and started to turn toward the sink, but Caleb caught her up in his gravity before she could move away.

“C’mere,” he murmured.

Shifting on her feet, she cocked her head at him, and Caleb couldn’t help but notice the way her eyes fluttered, just a little, as he let his power roll over her before pulling back.

Caleb held his hand out for hers. “Let me see.”

She swallowed, looked at her sticky fingers, and immediately focused on his lips. Caleb’s mouth curved into a knowing smile, which earned him a pretty pout.

“You’re terrible,” she breathed but held her hand out, anyway.

“Oh, c’mon, Pip-squeak,” he murmured, his warm hand gently skimming along the length of her forearm before curling around her wrist. “I know you like it when I’m bad.”

Her lips parted with a soft sigh that sounded anything but perturbed, pink tongue flicking out to lick her lips as her actions betrayed her thoughts.

“What are you going to do…?”

“You don’t know?” he asked while leaning closer to her hand, slow enough that she could pull back if she wanted.

He needed to prove something to himself, needed to prove that it wasn’t just the alcohol or the strange anonymity of that seedy club. Caleb needed to know that she wanted him as badly as he wanted her.

He could see it now, in the way she stood there, legs spread just a touch too wide, as if she was imagining what it might be like to fall into his lap and straddle his waist. Or maybe it was in how her hips switched, swaying almost the same way they had while she’d ground herself into his thigh the night before.

No, it was definitely in how glassy her eyes looked and the pretty flush on her cheeks. There was no alcohol coloring this interaction. What other places on her body would flush, he wondered. The tips of her nipples? The soft skin at the juncture between her legs and thighs? What about her ass? As decadently formed as it was, would her ass look even better with a bite mark… or two?

Caleb could feel himself growing hard in his gray sweatpants but was marginally relieved that he wouldn’t need to reach down and adjust himself this time. No distractions. Just her eyes locked on his as he pulled her hand closer and closer.

She didn’t gasp when he sucked her fingers into his mouth—index and middle; warm, sticky, and sweet. No, what she did was much, much worse than that.

Watching for every single reaction, Caleb swirled his tongue before delivering a long, soft suck, and his girl took in a halting breath, fluttered her fingers in his mouth, and fucking whimpered his name.

“C-Caleb!”

Broken, halting, haunting. He wanted to hear her say it again. To hear her say it while he pressed into her from above, while his head disappeared between her thighs, while he did every single thing he’d ever dreamed about doing to her, but dared not do.

They were growing closer and closer to the day when they would dare, and he was doing his best to be patient. He’d draw out every moment so when that day did come, when she finally gave in to her desires and realized that everything she’d been wanting was right before her eyes, it would be after he so thoroughly seduced her that she’d never think of denying either of them.

Ever. Again.

Caleb wasn’t a patient man, but he could play pretend with the best of them. For her, he would make the planet collapse in on itself if she but asked. But all she needed right now was patience and time. As his tongue swirled and his mouth pulled, he lingered there, and let her think of all the other places on her body that would feel oh so good if he ever got his lips, teeth, and tongue on them.

And he would. But, for that moment, he let her go and was not so secretly smug about the sweetly blissed-out look on her face, and the way she stumble-sat into her chair before picking at her food again, desperate to look somewhere, anywhere but at the face of the man she knew the best, and needed the most.

Weeks flew by. She texted, same as always. She called, and he answered on the second ring, same as always. But where once Caleb could soothe himself with the knowledge that he’d be able to see her soon enough, now he is consumed with the memories of their interactions and, more to the point, her reactions.

The clothes she left at his place for use during her visits no longer smell like her, likely because he spends most nights with his face wrapped up in them. The only peaceful rest he’s able to get is when she’s near. When he knows she’s safe. Now, her shirt and shorts just smell like him, and as much as he enjoys leaving his scent all over her space, he wants the same for his home.

Logically, Caleb knows that Linkon is a safer place for her, for a multitude of reasons, but the greedy, dark spaces of his heart want to keep her high in the sky, in Skyhaven with him. He’s smart enough to know how to keep her safe at his apartment. God, he’s done it before. But as good as it makes him feel to know without a doubt that she is safe, he can’t stand the look in her eye at that particular betrayal.

Just one more sin for the consummate sinner. But with her, ahh… It feels like he can find absolution in her arms. No matter how dark he gets, his girl will always be there to pull him back into the light. She promised him, just as he’d promised to always be there with him.

Finally, when Caleb thinks he’s at his wits’ end, he gets a text from Emme asking if he wants to meet up at her place on the weekend. Naturally, he agrees. Even if he didn’t have the time off, he’d have figured something out. He’s so excited about it that he decides to surprise her the night before, which isn’t uncommon for him.

So, with snacks and an overnight bag in hand, he lets himself into her apartment and waits for her to get back home from work. From how she tells it, she’s been overtime on something important. Caleb did some digging and managed to find out it had something to do with Wanderers convening just outside of the city limits.

It’s miserable work, as important as it is, and he worries because that’s who he is. Caleb wouldn’t be Caleb if he wasn’t worrying about his Pip-squeak. He’s just wired that way. And this time, he’s right to be concerned because when she finally gets back to her apartment at just after 2 a.m., she stumbles in.

Of course, she’s not entirely surprised that he’s there—who else would be watching movies this late in her living room, who else would know the security code to her suite, and who else would show up unannounced, like him—but she looks put out, all the same.

He watches her for a moment longer as she pauses at the entrance to her home, leaning against the doorframe as she breathes deep, head hanging heavy, body drooping… He’s moving before she can fall, her body pitching forward into his strong body instead of the floor.

“Whoa, Pip-squeak! What’s wrong?”

She looks up at him, and the dark smudges under her eyes, along with the scrapes on her cheeks and neck tell him everything he needs to know.

“Caleb.” One word spoken, half annoyance, half supplication. It’s all he needs. A moment longer, and she’s swept up into his arms.

“Let’s get you washed, dried, and cared for,” he says, sounding more competent and put together than he feels. In truth, his heart is pounding in his chest, and it’s taking everything he has not to drive over to the Hunter’s Association and ream out whoever is responsible for putting her in the situation that got her in this state.

Not that he’d dare leave her now.

He carries her through the small space of her apartment and walks them both into the bathroom. Her bathroom is cramped on a good day, and with the two of them in there, it’s even worse. She bats at his hands and tries to tell him she can manage on her own.

“I’m not a child.”

“Of course you aren’t, but you’re still my girl. How could I live with myself if I left you alone now? What if you fell in the shower, or worse?”

She frowns, but some of the roughness of that expression is smoothed away as she thinks about it.

“You owe me, then.”

“Oh?”

“Next time you get sick. You call me. You let me in. No excuses.”

Caleb sighs. Of course, she’d bargain for something like that. It’s not in his nature to show weakness, least of all to her, but he’d promise just about anything and mean it to keep her happy.

“Deal. Now, strip.”

She blushes at that, only for her lips to frown again.

“What?”

As Caleb eases her from his arms, she’s unsteady on her feet. “I really… just don’t think I can.”

“Need some help?” he asks, trying to sound casual, but very much feeling like his heart is going to explode.

“Promise not to get mad?”

“No.”

“Caleb!” she exclaims while giving him a halfhearted shove. “There’s just a few scrapes. And I’m sure I’ll be bruised tomorrow. But it’s nothing major, okay?”

“Okay. But you’re going to let me treat your injuries.”

She pouts. “Fine, but it’s mostly just… really sore muscles. I think a Wanderer was trying to tear my spine out…”

He hates the sound of that but manages to transfer some of his anger to the fastenings of her clothes, quickly and efficiently stripping the layers of her outfit from her body until she’s standing there in nothing more than her underthings and the bracelet he gave her.

He loves that no matter where she goes, she’s got a piece of him with her, but he keeps that bit of information to himself. She already has his heart. Any more leverage and she’ll have him following her like a puppy… more than he already does, that is.

Caleb tries to be level-headed about this, but it’s a challenge given how very fuckin’ long he’s dreamed about seeing her like this, albeit in very different circumstances. Still, he loves her, loves her more than he longs for her, even, so he schools his features, wills his body to calm down, and has his Evol prop her up while guiding her roughed-up body into the shower.

And though it’s strange, and not entirely logical, Caleb swears he can feel her pressing back into his gravitational touch, leaning into his power as he works to support her and not lose his damn mind. Maybe it has something to do with her Resonance. God knows it wouldn’t be the first time that their shared connection bridged the gap between fantasy and reality.

Once the shower curtain is closed, his power slips away, leaving her to stand on her own two feet.

“You good?”

“I’ve got the wall,” she says with a sigh. “Can you help me after I’m done?”

“Of course.”

She manages to take off the rest of her clothes. They fall to the floor of her shower with a soft thump.

“Want me to grab ‘em?”

“Everything’s filthy,” she admits. “Guts and blood and gore. I think I’m gonna burn them.”

Caleb chuckles and shakes his head. He’ll get the gore out for her. He’s good at that. Listening attentively, he makes sure to check in with her as she bathes. Truthfully, she’s sounding better, at least, until a soft hiss sounds from behind the curtain.

“Everything alright, Pip-squeak?”

“Just a very, very sore muscle.”

The water stops, and she gingerly peeks her head out from behind the curtain. She’s adorably drenched, and every part of him is itching with the need to care for her. He’s pleased to note that most of the blood is washed away, and doesn’t seem to belong to her.

Guts and blood and gore, indeed.

“I got a towel ready,” he says, spreading it out and turning his head so she can step out of the shower without having to worry about him leering.

Caleb swears she snickers at him, but she ducks into his arms and lets him wrap her in the towel, just the same. She’s swallowed up by an excess of plush fabric, with only her feet and head peeking out from the edges.

It almost reminds him of when she was young, and how after playing with the sprinkler and tiring herself out in the summer sun, she’d complain about being cold, only for Caleb to wrap her up in a towel and help her dry off.

Well, he’s not that boy anymore, and she’s certainly not that girl, and what they are to each other is so much more than childhood friends.

Still, he tugs at the edge of the towel and lifts it so that he’s better covering her neck. “Can you turn around? I’ll dry your hair.”

“The blow dryer is—”

“Beneath the sink, I know.”

With everything ready, he first works at detangling her hair with her paddle brush. Her work’s made a mess of her hair, but he’s good at this—the best, actually. He has to be because the last thing he wants is to cause her any more pain.

After her hair is detangled and pulled back, he slowly runs the blow dryer over it while combing it on low heat. He’d hate to damage her hair. Once her hair is mostly dry, he quickly pulls it into a braid. Another thing that he’s quite good at.

“Hair ties?”

She holds up her wrist.

“Hair ties that haven’t gone through hell and back?” he clarifies while tugging the band from her wrist and throwing it in the trash.

“Medicine cabinet.”

He gets what he needs, ties off her hair, and picks her up again. This time, she squawks a little, but he gently rubs his lips against the top of her head and softly begs, “Please? Let me help.”

And mollified by his words or his actions, she settles and lets her head fall against his shoulder. It doesn’t take long to get to her bedroom, the door of which he gently nudges open with his power.

Caleb settles her on the bed and walks over to her dresser. “What d’ya wanna wear?”

“Mmm, I have some clothes ready in the top drawer.”

Pulling open the heavy wooden drawer, Caleb is surprised to recognize her clothes as his. “I was wearing this the last time I visited.”

“Yeah, your clothes are comfier than mine.”

“The shorts aren’t mine,” he points out.

“Your shorts would slide down my legs. The shirt is big, but it’s sooo nice to sleep in.”

As Caleb tugs the shirt and shorts closer, he can’t help but notice that it still smells faintly of his scent.

“Didn’t you wash this, Pip-squeak?” he drawls.

“Oh. No…” She sounds embarrassed, and he’s just about to tease her for always leaving her dirty laundry for him to do when she soundly sucker-punches him with what she says next. “It still smells like you… So… that’s why.”

That soft admission has the air retreating from his lungs in a wicked rush, words hitting with precision impact. Caleb doesn’t turn to face her. He can’t. His fist is tightly clenched around his shirt—the one that smells like him—his eyes are closed, and his breathing is so erratic that he needs to take a moment to calm himself.

Of course, he keeps her clothes at his bedside when she’s not in his home, but to hear she does the same—no, that she wears clothes that smell like him to bed—makes him feel fucking feral. He is not a good man. Far from it. He is who he needs to be so that he can keep her safe.

But when the reality of her words hits, it shifts his intentions for the evening entirely. He’d meant to put her to bed with a heating pad after checking for wounds, and then go to make her something to eat. Now she’d be lucky if he let her sleep at all.

“Where’s that massage oil that Tara got you?”

“How do you know about that?!” she balks.

“She was bragging about it at your birthday party. She’s remarkably chatty when she’s been drinking.” Tara was remarkably chatty all the time, but she got downright obscene with alcohol. Caleb got the sense that she was intentionally making him aware of the oil, almost as if she was giving him a not-so-subtle nudge.

As if any of this was up to him. Still, the knowledge came in handy. He’s feeling not the least bit smug about it, at least, until she hits him with another jab. “It’s in the drawer of my bedside table.”

Caleb closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and specifically does not think about what that likely means.

He clears his throat, but his voice is still rough when he finally manages to ask, “Can you dress yourself?”

“I can manage. But what are you going to do with the oil?”

Caleb shakes his head, turns, and fixes her with a look. “Massage your legs, silly girl. You could barely stand earlier. They’re gonna be hellish in the morning if you don’t take care of them now.”

“You’d do that for me?” she asks, cheeks still flushed from her shower, and towel wrapped tight. She looks good enough to eat, and Caleb expects that if he doesn’t somewhat sate the beast inside of him, he’s going to make a meal of her sooner rather than later.

Caleb stands before her, bunches her shirt—his shirt—up, and slides the top over her head. “Can you manage the rest?”

She nods, and he turns around to give her some privacy. “The shorts?”

“I can manage,” she replies, but her groans make his stomach twist with concern.

“They’re working you too hard.”

“My job is hard. This is what I signed up for.”

“Then you need to do a better job of taking care of yourself during your days off.”

“Okay, Mom.”

“I think ‘Daddy’ would be more fitting.”

“Caleb!” she squeaks. “Don’t say things like that.” But she certainly doesn’t sound as scandalized as she should…

“All right, all right. I’m sorry. You finished?”

“…Yeah, I got it.”

Caleb turns, tilts his head, and gives her a look. Her hair’s messed up now from the shirt, and she looks tired. A perfect pout greets his smile.

“Poor baby,” he softly croons. “Lay back and let me take care of you.”

He can see her swallow at that, like she’s having a hard time making her vocal cords work. “You’re just taking advantage of my weakness.”

“Naturally. How else am I gonna get you to understand that you need me?”

She huffs at that. “You need me just as much as I need you, Caleb.”

He snorts softly, teeth pressing into his tongue, before he softly admits, “You have no idea… Now, no more stalling.”

Caleb points to the bed, and she dutifully scoots back onto the sheets, albeit slowly and with effort. He manages to dig out the oil from her dresser and pointedly ignores literally everything else that’s hidden away in there because he won’t be able to behave if he does otherwise.

“I guess I should have grabbed the oil,” she starts to say.

He frowns. “Why?”

“Oh… never mind.”

“Something you don’t want me to see in there?”

She nibbles her lip, eyes fluttering softly as she murmurs, “Maybe… maybe not.”

The look she gives him is so coy and tempting that his mind goes completely blank and he utterly forgets what the hell he’d been in the middle of doing. At least, until she points to the oil.

“Are you gonna massage my legs or…?”

“Yeah… yeah. Right. Roll over, Pip-squeak. Lemme see where it hurts.”

She rolls over and Caleb’s eyes trail reverently over the length of her legs. She looks good. Too good. He hates that her coworkers get to even see a measure of this. Of course, he knows it’s insane to want to be the only one who can appreciate her, but his greedy heart feels it just the same.

“You been workin’ out more lately?”

“Hmm? Why?”

“Things look… tight,” he rasps, voice betraying his interest and desire.

Her reply is soft and teasing. “Someone did make me join that squat challenge last month. And here, I thought you had ulterior motives, but you’re acting all surprised.”

Caleb coughs to cover up some of his embarrassment and dispel a measure of his lust. Yeah, he had gotten her to agree to that challenge. Honestly, he’d been grasping for things to say, because he caught her right after a workout and the fine mist of sweat on her brow, along with the gorgeous flush in her cheeks, had him thinking of exercise of a different kind.

And here she’d taken him seriously.

“Gonna be as strong as me soon,” he manages while stepping closer to the bed. Her legs are spread on either side of him, and for one long moment, he doesn’t know what to do, or where to look next.

“Doubt it. Your legs are too long, and your thighs are too strong.”

“Been thinking about my thighs, baby?”

He’s teasing, sweet, and he means to catch her off guard, but she hits back so hard as she replies, “Yeah, your thighs… and other parts of your anatomy.”

Caleb sighs, long and hard. Says a prayer for courage to whoever happens to be listening, the Gods of the earth and the sea and space, or otherwise, and then, he gets to work. He kneels on the floor at the edge of the bed, and he’s tall enough that this gives him a good vantage point. He knows exactly what he wants to do next, and he’s as ready as he’ll ever be.

 “Tell me if it hurts.”

~~~

Author’s Note:

Sorry, this was so big that I had to cut it into two chapters because I hate editing and I got busy with other stuff. I’ll post the other chapter tomorrow, so you can have something to enjoy (I hope) over the weekend. The second part is spicier :D

I listened to the hipsterist hipster music for this one to get me into the right headspace, please enjoy haha. Also somewhat inspired by what has to have been the most painful massage I’ve ever had in my LIFE (did not have the same ending, there was only pain lmao, but I was like hmm maybe Caleb would be good at massages for MC, and then, PAIN). Also Deeply inspired by that secret times where Caleb takes care of MC when she’s sick. Like GOD DAMN, Caleb. “You’re worried I’ll spoil you rotten. Too late for that!” ??? ARE YOU KIDDING ME????

Also, not that it matters in the slightest, but I wrote this before I learned it’s canon that she likes to keep his clothes around (and wear them???) because they smell like him. They’re just really transparent with how fucking down bad these two are for each other lmao.

Still really fucking obsessed here, guys. Chokehold, I think is a good way to put it. Caleb is a mf bias wrecker, like oh my literal GOD. I swear, some of these are gonna be from MC’s pov, but I’m working through some SHIT rn lol.

I also gave the MC a little name, “Emme” which is short for Emme Sea lmao. I have a challenging time with writing y/n or like using second person present tense. No judgment or anything like that, it just makes it hard for me to think of the characters properly when I’m writing them. ANYWAY, I’ll use it sparingly, but sometimes, it’s just better to have a name lol.

Anyway, thanks so much for reading! And extra hugs for anyone who left a comment. You are the apple of my eye, and thank you for giving me a space to channel this whatever it is? Obsession lmao. I’ve got a few other interludes planned (shower), and I’m taking requests (on tumblr), so either give this/me a follow, or check up on my tumblr :) If you enjoyed, I’d love to hear from you! Or feel free to share with a friend, if you’re lucky enough to have some Caleb-obsessed friends haha.

Don’t forget! I'll be posting any updates as installments (not chapters), so be sure to sub to the series or my user name to get updates on ao3, or just check my tumblr, i'll post here too♥️🍎

[priincessboy]

drew a little freak

[sepublic]

“A sToRy iS OnLy aS GoOd aS ItS viLLaIn!!!”

[dhyanshiva]

cocoon - 31.12.24

Title: cocoon

Word Count: 6645

Category: G

DT: @carladuquette

I realise many of my pieces for Cla$$ utilise the Manzoor home as a place of reconciliation and less - harm and whilst there are several things to say for and against it.... I can't promise that I'll be switching that out too often. Something for me to ponder as my preoccupation with Cla$$ (2023) continues, I guess!

@cangse-sanren - mayhaps one day I'll steer towards YashKo but this is defintely aligned more to my festive pieces (Yashika/ Zaira, my own concoction). But oh well!

[things-about-cars-in-posts]

So I had my dad talking to me about cars today, telling me how I should basically avoid getting any cars except those made by Japanese companies because of how shitty other countries manufacture their cars (mileage and life span)

Do you have any thoughts on this? I don’t know much about cars and I thought of this blog while I was having this conversation so that’s why I send here

Do I have thoughts on this. Do I have thoughts on this. Babygirl (gender neutral) I have thoughts on aspects of cars you wouldn't even conceive of. I have thoughts on aspects of cars that aren't even real. Up the ante, folks! Ask me which cars are most bisexual!

That aside, for my opinion: Italian food is good. But of course, when I eat out in Italy, I don't go to any random place because "this country does this well", because I'm not ordering from a country, or a region, or a city, but from a specific joint - and some of them suck, some dropped or rose in quality, some are exceptionally good/bad with certain things, hell, some serve foreign food and then what's the adage matter now! That's why Yelp doesn't have country reviews.

Much the same, Japanese cars are usually pretty reliable, but Nissan spent the last two decades making a case against that claim (especially with their CVT transmission, a known ticking time bomb they've done fuck all about for years) with the help of whatever's left of the shell of Mitsubishi, and Infiniti is just the luxury brand of Nissan so ditto for it... indeed, another point to make, some cars are just based on, or outright are, cars from other brands. Infinitis are built by Nissan, and usually based on the equivalent Nissans. Except the QX30, which is just a Mercedes GLA - which probably was part of the same deal through which Mercedes got to sell the Nissan Navara as the X Class.

And there's a lot of cross-nationality brand partnerships like that, past and present, like the four-decade-long Mazda/Ford one, or the time Saturn had such a crappy engine they had to get Honda to give them a proper one. And by the way, the guy who posted that? He owns a different Saturn which took 360k miles of bare minimum care like a champ, because reliability can vary wildly within a lineup, and also a Volkswagen that's been a thorn in his side, which definitely wasn't the experience I had with mine, because mine is over twice as old, and a brand can completely change over time too! (You'd think they were run by people or something.)

In fact, reliability changing over time and models is the norm - not as drastically as, say, "older German cars were unstoppable tanks and now they're overly fit-prone electronics messes where everything is costly to buy and dastardly to replace" (which, however, is actually a notable trend), but usually in terms of "in this model, through these production years, this component was overly keen on failing" (as per my Accord post). Part of how Toyota (and by extension its luxury brand Lexus) rightfully earned its reputation of King Reliability is such cases in their production being especially few and far between, and none notable enough to become an automotive meme like Subaru head gasket failures (and no, the Camry dent doesn't count). So, say, Hondas may not be less reliable, just a bit less consistently so (but even there, Honda interiors tend to hold up much better than Toyotas', yadda yadda yay for nuance).

So if you are buying a used car (as you should) it's always important to research for potential common problems (for instance, pre-90s Toyota frames are to rust what the letter X is to Elon Musk) and thoroughly inspect the car, to check that nothing is broken and that it's been properly serviced.

That last part is very important, because reliability is not a tickbox, it's a spectrum, and a function of how a car was built and how it was maintained. Carelessness will kill any car sooner or later. Every car has fluids that will at some point need changing, wear items that will at some point need replacing, and the occasional part failure. Even yours. So even when it comes to your car, keep up with that stuff, or it will eventually catch up to you. (And if regular services would tax your finances, look into how to perform them yourself - you'll find it's a lot easier than you thought, you'll give it a shot and it will be very rewarding and save you a lot of money!)

And also, if a hinge starts squeaking, if something starts sagging, if some trim breaks, if you get a dent or scratch, take care of those too. Not because they make your car work less or worth less, but because they foster an indifference that snowballs into neglect. Working on those little things will keep you feeling like your car is nice and your loving effort is going to keep it nice, dammit - in much the same way as it's important to take care of yourself and your environment for your mental health, to keep yourself feeling like you are making it and with your loving effort you are going to keep making it, dammit.

Links in blue are posts of mine explaining the words in question - if you liked this post, you might like those!

[jewfrogs]

i want to work on a translation of senecas phaedra that pairs with my medea translation but its a very specific poetic voice because i wrote it piece by piece during a class on medea and its hard to mimic that intentionally

[how-to-be-a-tree]

Faruq Manzoor and A Midsummer Night's dream

I noticed Chayan Chopra's resemblance to young Robert Sean Leonard and this thought kept bothering me. I realised that the characters they portrayed (Dhruv and Neil) had a lot to do with this thought growing on me, more than mere looks.

This is about Dhruv Sanghvi ( Cla$$) and Neil Perry (Dead Poets society). Just a few parallels I found really interesting!!

Neil and Dhruv both seem to have a perfect life, from outside; only child in a perfect family, who are given everything more than they ask for, even a dream to work on; as a swimmer to enter asian games for dhruv and to be a doctor for Neil. They are said to just follow their father's orders, crudely. We see them striving hard to not to disappoint their parents; with no life in whatever they are doing. They have none in the family to let their heart out as well and both knew that they are never gonna be understood in their so called Home and had coped up to live along with it.

Dhruv goes to Hampton, Neil goes to Welton. Haha!!! In school, we see them get along with a diverse group of friends, black, white, grey and each with their own battles; but Dhruv and Neil stand out, somehow.

Neil befriending Todd and Dhruv befriending balli, with their own subtle ways, despite their friends being hostile about it; gives off same energy too.

They relish the beauty in ruins; Ismail's tomb and Dead Poets Society and it is where they discover themselves; Neil and his passion for acting, dhruv and his passion for love.

Neil says " I found it. This is it. What I want to do right now. What's really, really inside of me. I'm gonna act. For the first time in my whole life, I know what I want to do. And for the first time, I'm gonna do it! Whether my father wants me to or not. Carpe diem!". The same goes inside dhruv as well and we get to know it from " You".

We see them pursue their passion with so much joy and love, with a drive they have never felt before and this gives them the recognition they have longed for. Neil and Dhruv, now know where they belong.

On Confronting their fathers, dhruv goes in for all while neil says "nothing"; both implying the same, a final plea to be understood. However once again they are made to realise that their parents can never understand them.

Out of all the ways to understand their son even better, their parents come up with Psychiatric counselling for dhruv and Enrollment in Braden Military school for neil, to make them move on from what they love. Dhruv continues to get along with it, for he knew that he can never forget Faruq and he's gonna cherish him as " Isfahan's sky" as long as possible (btw waiting for S2). Neil on the other side, wanna cherish his passion for acting eternally and decides to rest.

" and the human race is filled with passion...Poetry, beauty, romance, love these are what we stay alive for...that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse"

[lhaewiel]

So I am planning an original story

It's like thriller/crime in sci-fiesque set

I am giving ALL of my characters really bad pun names to give readers double the whiplash.

[truegodofthearena]

I finally did it! A Veer Ahuja/Saba Manzoor fanfic set in Episode 3 after he tells her to go back home. Except, things aren’t that simple, are they? ;)

Faruq bhai makes a guest appearance :D

[m3tth4ws]

i want to see players no trade lists so bad

[carladuquette]

i can see the end as it begins

Koel/Yashika, feat. angst, gay longing, a little bit of smut and a lot of softness.

I did it- I wrote a Class fic 😅 Didn’t even love the show, but the social content is another matter. Naina Bhan (Koel, the Carla equivalent on this Elite remake) is the captain of the YashKo ship and her posts and interview quotes inspired me, haha. I always thought Lu might have a repressed crush on Carla, here it’s the other way around. Koel has had feelings for her best friend from the word go, but the society they live in has prevented her from ever acting on them. Until now.

Koel got to just look at her. She hardly ever got to take her best friend in like this – Yashika only ever sat still for this long either in class or when they were next to each other going through their phones, and that was different. Koel couldn't just look then, she'd have to read out the occasional cryptic comment, show Yashika at least one embarrassing shot for every three that she showed her, so they could eviscerate whoever had posted the offending photo.

It was never like this.

Koel had to tighten her grip on the coke can so she wouldn't run her fingers through the waves of brown hair that fell over Yashika's bare shoulder. She got to look at Yashika's smooth, pale pink lips without having to divert her gaze after a second for fear of being called out.

She'd known she was in trouble after the first week of high school. Sitting next to the new girl with the silky hair had been great because they'd become friends almost immediately, and it had been torture because Koel hadn't wanted to be friends. She'd wanted to kiss those flawless lips, she'd wanted Yashika's quick fingers to find her bra clasp, to dig into the skin of her thighs under her uniform skirt, she'd wanted… a lot of things.

But Koel had known how the world worked, too, even back then, and she had never been stupid. She liked her life, her social standing in school and within her family and their friends, and she would sure as hell never do anything stupid to throw all of that away. Not to mention that she had already been all but promised to Sharan back then, and Yashika had clearly had her eye on Veer from the start.

So she had gotten used to the attraction to her best friend as something that was humming under her skin, sometimes weaker, sometimes stronger, but never so strong that she couldn't ignore it with enough determination.

[calebslittleapple]

Just noticed this hit 100 kudos on Ao3! You all are so kind. Thanks for reading! ❤️🍎 Hopefully I will have another installment up sometime this weekend. These two have been remarkably inspirational for me (AND TWO new Caleb cards today! Best Day Ever lmao).

surrender

Caleb gets a text late at night from his favorite person. After rushing to her aid, Caleb finds himself getting more than he bargained for as his Pipsqueak tests the boundaries of their relationship in the dark corners of a seedy club.

Pairing: LaDS Caleb x MC (she/her)

Genre: Smut (with feelings); closer to "M" than "E"; 18+

CW: Mildly drunk MC convinces Caleb to dance with her; drunk grinding; dry humping; masturbation

Also on AO3

Caleb. I need you

The text flashes on his phone’s screen.

Pip-squeak, where are you?

Caleb stares at his phone, his reconstructed hand clenching around the delicate device as he waits… and waits. Finally, she starts to type. It takes a while, but eventually, she manages to drop him her current location.

Though he’s not familiar with the spot, a quick search brings up the details—a nightclub, a bit of a scandalous reputation, owner unknown, but suspected ties to the N109 Zone. His jaw clenches. Of course, his Pip-squeak can handle herself, but there’s something off about her messages.

Are you drinking? Drunk.

He takes one deep breath, and then another, and texts back:

Stay put. I’ll be there soon.

It’s lucky he’d been meaning to stop by for a surprise visit, so he’s already nearby. If she knew how often he haunted her place, wanting with every fiber of his being just to see her, just to make sure she’s okay… she’d probably hate him for it.

But on nights like this, when she calls him for help—him, and no one else—he feels justified in his obsession.

Just a little.

The club is busy when he arrives, and he’s not dressed for it. Fortunately, he can be remarkably charming when he wants to be. The bouncer gives him a long look, eyes trailing up and down before settling on Caleb’s face.

“There’s a dress code,” the man starts to say, but Caleb already knows where this is going.

As innate as his Evol is his ability to get what he wants… at least, with anyone other than her. Caleb cocks his head, his fashionably shaggy hair falling into his eyes.

“I was hoping you’d be able to make an exception,” Caleb drawls. “I’ve just had a hell of a day flying.”

“You a pilot?” Caleb nods. The man gives him another look. “You look familiar. Have I seen you on the news or something?”

And as Caleb’s heroic misadventures are revealed, he willingly gives up the anonymity to get to her.

Once he’s waved through the door and into the dark club, his ears are immediately assaulted by the sound. Even for a pilot, who daily has to deal with the screeching peels of flybys, the club is loud. Caleb stands off to the side, closes his eyes, and feels.

He’s always been able to find her, no matter where she happens to be, ever since they were kids. This is no exception. Whether due to their childhood spent together, or the way their powers blend—seamlessly, effortlessly, powerfully—he can feel her.

When he finds his Pip-squeak, she’s being accosted by another man. Caleb immediately stands up straight, fist clenching of its own volition. He can handle this without violence, and he will, but if it came down to it… he’d throw a punch for her. Hell, he’d done so many times before.

No one gets away with bothering his girl. No one.

Caleb pulls up close and places a firm hand on the man’s shoulder. He can bring this man to his knees in the blink of an eye, and part of him wants to.

Did you think you could get away with talking to someone like her?

Thank God, the man isn’t close enough to touch her, otherwise, Caleb hates to think about what he might do. The reveler turns to face him, no doubt expecting to tell him to fuck off, but he quickly realizes that Caleb is out of his league, both in mass and height.

“Sorry, man. This your girl?”

“Yeah, she is.”

And that’s all it takes. Caleb steps around the man, and carefully gathers her against his body, both as a necessity—it is loud as hell—and because he needs it. Her hands are a little unsteady, as are her feet. She’s not just been drinking, she’s drunk.

Caleb leans in, lips close to her ear as he says, “Gotten yourself into some trouble, Pip-squeak?”

Her fingers curl into his shirt, and he can’t help but flex, just a little, as her fingertips brush against his abdomen.

“Caleb,” she manages over the music, lips brushing against his chin as she demands, “Dance with me.”

Maybe not as drunk as he’d thought? Caleb looks down at her. She’s beautiful tonight, but that’s nothing new. She’s the most beautiful girl in the whole galaxy to him. Her eyes are a little glassy, so she’s definitely been drinking, but really, did she just want him here?

He wants whatever she wants, wants desperately to give her everything that she needs, and more. He’d have come to this club with her if she’d asked. He would have needed to blow off some work meetings and take some shit from his superiors, but he’d have done it. Maybe that’s why he got a frantic half-text near midnight instead.

She never wants to put him out, never mind that he is practically beside himself with the need to be there for her, however, and wherever she wants.

Still, he can’t help but tease, just a little. His words are soft, breath trailing against her skin as he says, “I’m not much of a dancer, baby.”

The endearment slips out before he can stop himself, and though he’s not quite certain, Caleb thinks he feels her shiver against him. Or maybe she’s just cold… the outfit she’s wearing leaves precious little to the imagination, and more than half of him wants to wrap her in his jacket and take her away from prying eyes to somewhere he can enjoy her all by himself, but he resists.

Because she’s asked something of him. And Caleb aims to deliver, especially after a sweetly uttered, “Please, Caleb.”

Her cheeks are flushed, lips caught between her teeth, as she waits with bated breath for his answer. As if he could ever say ‘no’ to her. After a beat, Caleb leads her into a more secluded corner of the club. Here, the music is softer, and the space is somewhat enclosed, so he can enjoy her all to himself.

Of course, Caleb knows he’s being greedy, and that it’s not right for him to covet her the way he does. Growing up, they were something akin to siblings, and while his affection for her stretches beyond what he’d be able to express in words, he knows it’s wrong to want her the way he does.

But he does, anyway.

So much changed so quickly for them. And when she’d appeared in his life once more, breaking into his space and with all the subtlety of a supernova, Caleb knew he couldn’t let her go again. Wouldn’t. Now, he is hopelessly entangled with her, and so, it seems, is she with him.

The low beat of the music resonates through him. Caleb takes a moment to collect himself before pulling his girl close again. With her body pressed up against his, their hands clasped, he leads her through a slow dance.

Truthfully, it’s more than a grind than a proper dance. He’s thinking that maybe he’ll catch her off guard a little and that their game of cat and mouse will quickly come to an end, the way it always does. But she surprises him, instead.

As the music reaches a fever pitch, she turns in his arms and presses back. Because of the heels she’s wearing, she presses up tight against his groin. Caleb barely keeps himself from stumbling as she rolls her ass into him, and when she reaches up and back, arms locking behind his neck to hold him exactly where she wants him, he lets out a soft whine that’s immediately swallowed up by the sound of the music.

At least, he hopes it is. He’s so fucking done for her. Every time they come together, it gets a little bit harder to part. Every teasing touch, every lingering look, every softly spoken word seeps into his body, clenches around his heart, and threatens to destroy him.

But God, wouldn’t it be glorious to lose to someone like her? Whether with his life or his devotion or literally any fucking thing, he’d give it all to her. His hands slip to her hips, holding her tight as he presses back—hard and hot against the curve of her ass.

She hisses, nails scraping softly against skin as she threads her fingers into his hair and pulls. And that is entirely too much. One beat to the next, he’s got her spun and pressed up against the nearest wall, leg pressed between hers, hands on either side of her head.

He’s breathing hard, and so is she. Reaching up, her hand traces the sharp line of his jaw, and he presses into that soft touch. Her hands are cold. Is she nervous? Scared? Or something else entirely…?

She stares up at him, licking her lips as her eyes lock with his. He knows what she’s thinking because he’s thinking it too. But he’s not gonna do this right now. He can’t do this right now. So many fractured moments shared between them. So much unacknowledged. Would this just be another moment added to the list that they both tacitly ignored?

Her thumb presses into his chapped lower lip. Between the flying and the stress, his lips aren’t in the best condition, but hers… look soft, supple, and slick. If he presses his lips against hers, would he take a measure of that sweetness back for his own?

The thought of tasting her has him growing even harder in his pants, so much so that he has to reach down and adjust the length of it. She sees him. Of course, how can she not? Her cheeks are flushed, eyes downcast, and tongue trapped between teeth as she reaches out, and—

But he stops her. The soft swell of his power pins her wrists against the wall and her chin lifts, eyes defiant as she frowns. But that’s just one more step down a path that they’ll never be able to come back from. But she’s not about to go down without a fight, not his beautiful girl.

“Caleb,” she breathes just a moment before she lifts the edge of her skirt and presses down against the thigh that’s keeping her pinned to the wall. “I need you.”

Caleb swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing as he fights with his need. He wants her. Badly. Has wanted her for so much of his life now he can’t separate his sense of self from the longing. There are two constants in Caleb’s life, his need to protect her, and his desire for her, both at war with each other, for his need to protect includes from himself.

But how can he deny her, when she asks so sweetly and when her body is so hot and soft against his? His hands clench against the wall, forehead pressing into hers as he bids her, “Move.”

At first, she’s confused, and it feels like she’s gonna pull herself off of him. But he doesn’t want that. God, that’s the last thing he wants. His Evol stills her, then gently drags her forward, that soft, sensitive space between her legs slowly rubbing into his thigh. Her eyes widen as she gets his meaning.

“But Caleb,” she sweetly pouts. “My hands.”

That’s all it takes. Her hands are free from the invisible restraints, and immediately her arms wrap around the back of his neck. She doesn’t need much more encouragement than that. Her body moves, slowly grinding and sliding in time with the music, but this time, her soft moans and ragged breaths add to the sound, a sweet symphony that only she can create, and only he can hear.

If he were a lesser man, he’d pull the thin scrap of fabric from between her legs to the side, free his aching cock, and fuck her against the wall of this dark club. But he’s not that man. He’s never been that man. That particular first needs to be perfect, if it ever happens. And while this encounter will leave them both with some lasting memories, it won’t diminish the need they have for each other.

No. If anything, it will only make things worse.

She’s whimpering now, so soft as she rolls her body, her sweet core searching for completion as she sates her need in this dark space. She’s soaked through the fabric of his pants, and it takes everything he has not to reach out and slowly press his fingers into that wet-hot clutch, to feel her heat wrapped around him.

Caleb dreamed about moments like these, though he hated himself for it. Of course, he never thought that she’d seek him out like this. Not in a million years. No matter how many almosts and other stolen moments that happened between them, Caleb just couldn’t bring himself to believe that she’d want someone like him. He’s a sinner, falling at the altar of a sweet angel.

He doesn’t deserve her, but he will take every single moment shared and cling to them despite his feelings. As she moves, her body hot and lithe against his, her lips press against the exposed skin of his chest. Lips give way to teeth—a none-too-gentle rasp against his skin that’s definitely going to leave a mark.

He wants that. Want so much more from her than he should. Finally, he trusts himself enough to touch her, his warm hand lifting from the wall only to thread itself in the length of her hair as she moves. His touch is soft, soothing even, despite how his heart is rattling the cage of his chest, despite how his cock aches.

“That’s it, baby,” he sweetly soothes. “You’re so beautiful. Take what you need from me. I’m here. I’ll always be here for you.”

“Caleb,” she gasps, a broken, needful-sounding utterance that nearly breaks him.

His head dips, lips brushing against the shell of her ear as he says, “Are you close?”

“I-I yes? I don’t… Maybe?”

“Maybe?” he repeats teasingly.

She pouts at him but doesn’t stop rocking her hips. “I don’t have—Ohh—any experience with this!”

“Tell me I’m not the only person you’ve ever done this with,” he hisses softly before he can stop himself. He’s not mad. Far from it. Only, realizing that she’s never done this with anyone lights a primal spark within him.

This is dangerous. So dangerous, he thinks. And when her words—half gasp, half moan—slip free from between her lips, breathlessly admitting, “I’ve only ever done this with myself.”

Caleb finds himself somewhere between euphoria and despair. His lips press into her brow, eyes rolling back some as he demands, “Say it again.”

That does cause a small hitch in her movements, but she quickly rebounds, finding her pace once more as she leans in and murmurs against his jaw, “I’ve… only ever done this with myself.”

His words are dark, pulled from deep within as he asks, “Who were you thinking of when you did this, Pip…squeak.” That word, his nickname for her, where it once was a barrier between them, now feels more like a secret shared just between the two of them.

Her whole body shudders softly as he draws out the syllables of that word, shifting it into something else entirely.

Something more.

But his girl, she isn’t one to be outdone. The same old push and pull between them made manifest as she admits, “You, you idiot. Who else?”

The soft laugh that rumbles from his lips is entirely too self-satisfied, as is what he says next: “Good.”

He can feel her shaking her head, but instead of relenting, she rolls herself against his thigh—hips canting—as her lips press against his Adam’s apple, only for her tongue to dart out and sweetly lap at that vulnerable spot.

He gulps, and no doubt, she notices, but she’s falling back into a sweet rhythm that will bring her the completion she needs. Her eyes lock with his, hands tight in his hair as her movements become more erratic.

His eyes feel like they don’t know what to focus on next. He wants every single moment of this to imprint on his brain. No, more than that, he needs this to imprint on his soul, so that he’s less likely to forget any detail, no matter what happens to him in the future.

She’s so beautiful to him, so sweet and tender and his. Finally, her eyes roll back, and a decadent moan slips free from between her lush lips.

Fuck, he thinks. Or maybe he says it. He’s not sure what’s real and what’s in his head anymore.

When she comes, it’s his name she utters—high pitched, broken, gasping, needy—and he nearly comes from the pleasure of this moment. Seeing her, feeling her, come apart in his arms and against his body is better than imagined, and coupled with the fact that he’s the only one who’s ever made her feel like this… it’s a lot.

They hold each other as her breath steadies, and she seems reluctant to pull away. He likes that. Likes it even more when she softly admits, “That felt… so good.”

He swallows around the thickness in his throat and tries to ignore the tight feel of his cock in his pants. This is about her. Her needs. The last thing he wants is to push her further than she wants to go, even if he wants to go so, so much further with her.

But he can wait. He’s been waiting… for years. He can wait a little longer. She is more than worth it. Eventually, she peels herself from his body and adjusts her skirt. Her cheeks are still flushed, but her eyes are clear now.

She smiles at him and looks entirely too pleased with herself. “Take me home, Caleb.”

And he does.

Tonight is just another step down their long path together, and it already feels like he’s taken too much. But has he? Or has he given her precisely what she wanted?

Once they’re back at her place, she showers, and he pretends like he’s not thinking about the water cascading over her sweet body, or the way she’d moaned his fucking name as she came on his thigh. Doing his best to calm his overwrought emotions, Caleb waits for his turn to use the shower.

After towel drying her hair, he pulls himself away from her for long enough to bathe. And with her body wash sliding down his abdomen, he takes his cock in hand, bites down on his lip, and fist-fucks himself to the memory of what just happened.

He’s only marginally sated, but Caleb knows things are coming to a head between them. Sweet and innocent is no longer possible with them, but still, even knowing how badly he wants her and that he really should sleep on her cramped couch, he lets her pull him into her bed, anyway.

Rolling over in bed beside him, she tucks her arm around his middle as her head presses into his chest, and he knows that he will do anything she asks of him. Keeping her safe is, of course, paramount, and keeping her happy is an integral part of that initiative.

So, when she breathes a soft, “Sleep with me.”

What else can he do, other than exactly what she wants?

~~~~

Author's Note:

I’m such a kabedon sucker. Like put that shit into my VEINS. These two have ABSOLUTELY wrecking ball crashed into my brain, and like I don’t even go here! NORMALLY I’m not super big on childhood friends to lovers (pseudo sibs whatever you wanna call it). No hate, it’s just not my thing. Then Caleb showed up and was like, oh? Bet. AND FUCK MAN I’M SO GONE. Ugh. Anyway. This isn’t even my main fandom! But if it keeps this shit up, I think it’s gonna be lmao.

AND BEFORE anyone comes after me for using pip-squeak. I USED TO BE LIKE YOU! I thought it was hilarious. I laughed my ass off for a good 30 minutes when I heard him moaning it in that secret times clip, and then, you know what fuckin happened? CALEB HAPPENED! I tripped and fell right into the pit of obsession, and NOW I even find that damn nickname endearing. NEVER MIND when he moans it haha. BE CAREFUL! Or one day you may be just like me!!! Also I think it’s cute as fuck now, given one of the meanings of pip-squeak. *STEPS DOWN FROM THE PULPIT*

Anyway, thanks for reading! I’ve got a few other interludes planned, and I’m taking requests. If you enjoyed, I’d love to hear from you! Or feel free to share with a friend, if you’re lucky enough to have some Caleb-obsessed friends haha. Any mistakes are there because they keep me humble ;)

Banner courtesy of cafekitsune! Page break courtesy of evansyhelp!

[jihnari]

i wish you would write a fic where zhongchi exists and you don't immediately die of out of the sheer unbelievability of it :D

😭

but anyway i have thought about it in the past because it is such a popular ship and being able to enjoy it would literally only benefit me.

the closest i can come up with is a modern AU where childe hasn't reached his unhinged potential and zhongli is his hot divorced/widowed professor and then childe attempts to be sexy and make bad decisions… and zhongli isn't interested because he's a responsible adult. the end.

[autumnalfallingleaves]

have you been working on any writing projects recently? id love to read some more of your work

Not recently, no; I'm only just starting to get on the upswing from a massive bout of burnout that started last year and I, unfortunately, have been having to do summer courses to get everything ready for internship and graduation, so I haven't really had a ton of time and motivation to write 😔

But! That doesn't mean I'm not planning things out! The next installment of let's not make this complicated (i know you) is going to be the immediate aftermath of i will take it all in one breath (and hold it down) in terms of legal stuff in relation to, you know, the kidnapping attempt of a minor, and I've been thinking of writing a Hilda s3 prediction two- or three-shot about the theory that the Bellkeeper is Hilda's bio dad.

[dhyanshiva]

the act/art of letting go | 25.01.25

Header above by me; playlist at the end of this post.

This is probably a precursor to a piece I'll be posting to ao3 sometime in the near future. That one's quite heavy, I guess this is the act of the weight crushing them in order to give context to that. You don't have to read this to read that (if at all).

TWs for their arcs and everything it entailed and suggested. There's honestly too many to list. This has no editing or proof reading and typed ready to post on the tumblr itself - it's an attempt to ease back into long form writing, hence the spontaneity.

Take care if you proceed.

Dhruv needed more than a few minutes to settle down to a normal heart rate on tearing himself from the confines of the nightmare. It hadn't been anything grotesque or unfathomable. And that's what made it a hundred times worse. That it was so real was agony.

Faruq's utterance of his name - in mirth, in awe, in love, in worry last of all - echoed around him as he drowned. Just out of reach from the surface he was trying to claw through towards. Then, he'd finally emerge, gasping for breath, and the voice, Faruq as a presence would just. Vanish before he could say another word. Walking backwards. Just out of reach.

And before Dhruv's heart could actually break, there'd be a hand pulling him back under the currents. He'd spot a cufflink, a red blazer sleeve and hear a harsh yell of reprimand in just his name and then. Silence as he struggled and suffocated before returning to wakefulness yet again.

It was a cycle he didn't know how to break. Didn't want to break, if it meant forgetting his voice once and for all... but -

Dhruv shivered as he stood before the open window, not so idly assessing the view storeys below. Dawn was creeping towards them all, stealthily and the quiet vibration of his phone filled him with dread. Balli. Telling him in his own roundabout way that Saba had told him that Faruq's nikaah was... next week.

The ring of the alarm a couple doors down pulled Dhruv away from the window and instead to his bathroom. On the way, he stopped for his recent purchase. He'd known love, he'd known pain, he knew loss, he knew hopelessness. All this pain was only worth it because at least he'd. At least he'd loved Faruq and been loved back.

So. If he died now, at least he'd lived to experience something like that. Amidst the curses, sin and burden of it all, at least he'd been blessed beyond measure, more than he deserved.

~~~

“I suppose in the end, the whole of life becomes an act of letting go, but what always hurts the most is not taking a moment to say goodbye.”

― Yann Martel, Life of Pi

~~~

Kilometeres away, Faruq winced as he awoke from a fitful sleep with something digging into his cheek. The last vestiges of the light in Dhruv's eyes as he held him close carried through just as the darkness in his cold room lifted.

The damage came from the ring that felt like it was cutting the circulation off, also digging into his smallest finger. Almost cyclical, Faruq welcomed the heinous pain of his nightmares and memories if only for the relief definitely loving him and being loved provided.

A small priceless mercy. It had been excruciating, to break their last kiss and pull away, when all he wanted to do was hold him close, run away, escape, stay alive.

Trading certain death for these shackles felt like cowardice but... but surely this guaranteed that Dhruv had a chance at life?

Faruq had carried unease for so long, it existed in parallel, like a seventh sense. This wariness though, it felt new and true. Unshakeable, with nothing to show for it.

It would only be assuaged with seeing Dhruv (entirely impossivke and never again) that the monster would abate. It was a monster, an amalgamation of all their fears, their acceptance, their regret, the hate. Dhruv had finally let him leave, but hadn't hated him for doing so, no matter how much Faruq hated himself.

If Dhruv was still his to hold and love, he'd shake his head, smiling. He'd embrace him as he trembled, quiet. He'd soothe him with words no one else thought him deserving of. He loved him. He gave him hope. And Faruq had walked away, He'd reached out, only to leave him one last time.

Instead of succumbing to sleep and a deceitful siphoning (in their separation) of love that he'd been so selflessly given, Faruq steeled himself for a new day, his heartbeat shaky, but only existent in his death for the love had had once lived in.

And it would have to be enough.

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

Playlist:

[goobbgoober]

I never really realized I was a jack of all trades type until I started working. Mostly because I just say something about whatever I have recently made and everyone is shocked. Like, I made some little earrings for a coworker because they like my spoon and fork earrings and always commented on them. So I made them some and they were so excited and my manager was all shocked. Another time, I mentioned I was crocheting and another coworker was shocked. He knew I draw and play an instrument or two for sure, but it just shocked him.

Idk maybe I spent too much time around band kids so being skilled in multiple things wasn't a big deal.

To flex, ig, I play trumpet, French horn, marched bass drum and cymbals, banjo, guitar, bass guitar, jaw harp, I draw, paint sew, crochet, embroider, macrame, I've worked with resin and jewelry stuff. There's a lot more I'd like to add to this list lol, but that's it for now I think. Some if these things I'm halfway decent, but I can say I'm good on trumpet and French horn because I made the state band for horn a couple times and while I was no professional level trumpet, I was one of the most solid players in my area (could not play very high, but who needs to play high when you can play upper register stuff quietly) (it's very hard)