i need more perv virgin jisung. maybe you invite him into your room to talk or chill, something innocent, but just the fact that your scent is strong makes him unbelievably needy. he tries to push through it, he really does. he wants you so bad that hes sitting there malfunctioning in front of you. he's turning bright red, and thats when you realise the kind of person he is; a perv who would probably do anything for you.
also my first time sending an ask. is this good ? and ive heard people can have emojis. i want to be 🐈 anon. im excited to see what youll come up with!
of course!
rating: 18+. mdni.
word count: 1.4k
content: perv!virgin!jisung x reader, masturbation (m), no plot jisung's just horny n kinda subby
masterlist
part one
Jisung stands stiffly, feeling guilty and overwhelmed to be in your bedroom again. Though this time he was invited in. He wasn’t some pathetic, horny pervert who invaded your privacy and stole your used underwear. He was a guest. You wanted him there. You had leaned on his doorframe dramatically, perfume wafting over to where he sat in his gaming chair. He cursed the wind blowing through his window as he immediately felt himself growing aroused by the light scent.
Jisung had rejected your offer, not wanting to test the restraint he knew he didn’t have, but he couldn’t put up much of a fight when you whined, irresistible pout playing on your lips. “Ji, please hang out with me.”
And now, Jisung can’t focus with you sitting so close to him, your scent stronger inside your small bedroom. He occupied his mind by looking around, taking in the decorated space. Framed pictures and one too many mirrors on the walls and shelves lined with your favorite things. His eyes meet your hamper, clothing hangs off the sides and he quickly adverts his eyes, trying to ignore the tingle in his stomach as he thinks back to the filthy panties he had stolen days before hidden in his bedside drawer.
The amount of times he had used the flimsy underwear was downright embarrassing. Even the simple sight of them shoved between various items in the small drawer made him so hard that he couldn’t resist another go like the insatiable, desperate virgin he is. Unfortunately for him, release after release had stiffened the fabric and tainted your intoxicating scent with his own natural musk, but he couldn’t stop. He had even considered making his way into your bedroom once more and stealing another pair. Would you notice? Surely you wouldn’t.
You're perched so prettily on the edge of your well-made bed, looking up at him with your hypnotizing eyes when he leaves his head. Jisung thinks that if he were to jerk his hips forward, your mouth would meet where he needed you most. His hands make their way to his crotch as he tries to hide his swelling bulge. He looks away, swallowing as you begin to push your hair away from your face, keeping your eyes on him.
“Jisung,” you laugh, “why do you look so scared? Sit.” You pat the space beside you.
Jisung doesn’t want to sit. He can’t bring himself to sit, fearing that you’ll see how hard he has gotten just from your presence if he makes any sort of movement.
Despite his efforts, the slow shifts of his hands only draw your attention towards the prominent bulge poking at his pants. “Oh,” you breathe as your gaze falls downward.
“S-sorry,” Jisung stutters, attempting to fully conceal his length. He feels himself twitch underneath his hand and he can only imagine how pathetic he actually looks, skin bright and burning, panicked and embarrassed and shamefully, pathetically hard.
You look him up and down. “It’s okay,” you say, eyes trained on the way his fingers stretch over his clothed cock. “I can see why you look so uncomfortable.”
He simply exhales, fearing what would come out of his mouth if he opened it. You watch him carefully, “take it out.”
Jisung freezes, eyes snapping upward, “w-what?”
“C’mon, Ji,” you smile and Jisung feels like he might melt, “let me see.”
It doesn’t take much convincing because as always, your wish is his command. Jisung obliges, removing his large hand from his erection. Your eyebrows move slightly, your interest seemingly piqued. His thumb pushes into the waistband of his pants and he slowly pushes it down. His sweats fall to his ankles easily and he would’ve cringed at the quick exposure if he wasn’t so aroused.
You stare intently, running your eyes up and down his length, along every prominent vein and soft, upward curve. Jisung’s humiliated, hating, but loving the way you stare at his cock. It stands proudly, jumping and twitching uncontrollably as it craves to be touched. A dribble of precum leaks from him, sliding down the cherry red head. It forms a sticky string as it begins to fall and he quickly grabs it before it breaks.
You nod at him, gaze expectant as your pupils move from side to side and observe his half naked body. Jisung gently swirls his finger over his head, taking a deep and uneven breath as he joins you in looking at his twitching cock. Your scent enters his nostrils causing his body to react. He pumps slowly, trying to restrain himself by biting the inside of his cheek. He wonders if you can tell how much of a horny virgin he is by the clear desperation written all over his face as his thighs tense and the veins in his arms and hands rise to the surface.
“Does it feel good?”
Jisung shudders, nodding. He can make out his reflection in one of the mirrors to his side. He can see his figure colored with a rosy hue and his oversized hoodie that had shifted, exposing his prominent collarbones and a portion of his broad shoulders. The hem of it hangs just above his prick and the hand that tugs needily on it. Apparently, he was pumping himself a lot harder and quicker than he thought.
Jisung releases a shaky breath letting himself look at you directly. Just a little, he naively tells himself. Of course, it isn’t just a little, he can’t look away from you and your alluring features. Your sweet, soft lips and focused eyes lined with curled lashes and excess eyeliner from your brief outing earlier that day. Even the smallest sliver of skin peaking through the top of your own hoodie has him even more needy.
“I always knew it, you know,” you glance up at him, meeting his eyes that have been glued to you as he pumps himself frantically, lewd, wet noises followed with every slide of his fist. “I knew you were a little pervert. You’re always running away from me,” you pause. Your head tilts to the side as you ask, “do you want to fuck me, Jisung?”
Jisung can stop the moan that finally forces its way out of him, deep and strained. His eyes shut tightly as he tries to keep himself from cumming. He nods once, the movement small and full of embarrassment. He feels your warm breath against his pelvis as a puff leaves your nose.
He manages to stop his restless pumps but his hips take over, rutting into his fist instinctively. He can feel your heavy stare on him and he dreads the look he’ll be met with once he opens his eyes. Though, he can still see you with his eyes closed, having practiced visualizing your face everytime his hand reached for his swollen length since he met you but knowing that you were actually there, that your scent, warm aura, and enchanting voice were not a figment of his imagination and that made his mind fuzzy.
“Look at me,” you murmur. His eyes open slightly, just enough to see your blurry figure. His eyelids feel heavy and he feels like they might close at any second. “Are you gonna cum for me, Jisung?”
He let out a strangled hum, blowing air into his cheeks as he tightened his hold on himself.
“Say it,” you commanded.
Your eyes were piercing, causing a flutter in his heart as he looked deeply into them. “Fuck,” he whispered as he released the hot air in his mouth, “m’gonna cum.”
The closer he came to his climax the more overwhelmed he became. He begins inhaling and savoring your scent in his system, feeling the way it travels through his body and into his brain, lighting up some part of his brain that only seems to present itself around you. A string of curses come out with every rapid breath he takes as his fist pumps his cock with embarrassing fervor. His eyelids feel even heavier but he fights to keep them open, staring at you through the small sliver his lids allowed.
Jisung uses the last of his mind to move his hand, positioning it before the head of his length. He cums with a whimper, the pearly substance pooling in his palm and staining the low hanging hem of his hoodie. Jisung tries to steady his breathing, feeling his sticky release hot in his hand.
summary; eddie ruining fem!crybaby!(bimbo?)reader bc he loves you s’much !! ♡ smut, 18+ only, oral f receiving, fingering, squirting, spit, salvia, ppppussy slapping, everything is 100% consensual and all parties would've talked about boundaries beforehand, lmk if im missing any warning..
request; yes
fairy note; this.. i love this so much thank you for the crazy hot ask, screeching whilst i type,,
you were posing in front of your mirror, eyes glancing at the frame adorned with various polaroids and photo strips of you and your boyfriend, eddie. some were just wholesome pictures of the both of you pecking each other's cheeks, but the others were a little riskier— your skirt flipped up, eddie's hand gripping your thigh, another with your boobs pushed in his face. you shared quite a sensuous and playful relationship and you never shied away from showing off your ever-growing affection for your boyfriend, constant touching, kisses, and risky whisperings of sweet nothings in his ear that made his skin tint red.
trailing your fingers up from your pleated skirt you looked back ahead at yourself in the mirror, your friends words rattling around in your brain and bothering you more than you'd like to admit,
i made myself squirt yesterday, if only i had a boyfriend to impress and not just myself, you heard her giggling in your head, pursing your lips together and glaring at yourself in the mirror.
you and your friends, you're all pretty open and sex-positive, it was important to you and it felt good, and learning your body more with your boyfriend felt even better. so when you— who had been trying to get yourself to squirt since you and your friends had first-ever gotten onto the topic— heard about your friend's solo success, it made you feel pretty bummed, it wasn't a competition but you were just a little jealous, you wanted to have the same control and mastery of your own body but frustratingly you had never been able.
so you were sulky, evidently to eddie, who was sitting back against your headboard, fiddling about with your nail polishes aimlessly peeling back the sticker on the purple polish you had just finished painting his nails with, even though he insisted black, he caved.
"i'm useless.." you whined aloud, dramatically crossing your arms over your chest and an exaggerated sigh leaving your lips.
eddie dropped the polish back on the bedside table and maneuvered himself to the edge of the bed, “don’t say that, what’s wrong angel?” he asked, reaching out and tugging your hand.
you were often theatric and put more emotion and exaggeration into the small things, so he already knew you were trying to get a rise out of him, but he never treated you as though you were ridiculous, he was never cruel— sure he laughed and poked fun but only in the lighthearted way because he thought you were the cutest little thing he’d set his eyes on and he admittedly loved watching you get flustered or the way you got even sulkier.
you kept the stiff displeased expression on your face as you turned around to look down at your boyfriend once he tugged your hand, “no, it’s stupid.” you huffed, biting on the inside of your lip.
it was another thing you did, dismissing what you wanted to say just so you could seek reassurance from your boyfriend, and of course, he’d give it to you without fail, “baby..” he looked up at you knowingly, head tilting a little, “tell me, it’s not stupid if it’s bothering you, pet.”
you blinked down at him, lashes fluttering prettily before another sigh left your lips and you spoke up, “i can’t make myself squirt.” you mumbled through a pout.
eddie heard you and he was trying to suppress the smile his lips were threatening to show, “h-huh? i didn’t hear you.” a lie.
you frowned, swatting his shoulder with your hand playfully, “yes you did!” you raised your voice and he burst out into laughter, falling back against the bed, watching the way he curled his body up a little and chuckled into his hand.
“see, i told you it was stupid!” you huffed, sitting on the edge of the bed and frowning.
“no! no!” he breathed out after catching his breath from laughing, sitting up and situating himself behind you on the bed, arms squeezing your waist, “i told you, it’s not stupid, i just think it’s cute that you’re overthinking it so much sweetheart.” he explained, pressing gentle kisses to your arm that had you scrunching your nose up, ticklish.
“i’m not overthinking it! i’ve tried!” you grumbled in discontent, tilting your head back on eddie’s shoulder and feeling his fingers dip under your cropped skin-tight shirt.
“then let me try.” he suggested and your eyebrows furrowed, glancing back at him.
“you won’t be able to.” you said assertively, “if i can’t make myself do it then no way you can.”
eddie tutted, eyes rolling at your so-sure tone, “you don’t know that— i mean, you’re probably making yourself too tense and then you get frustrated and besides, my fingers are longer and if i eat your pussy so good you start crying.. i think i have a good shot at making you squirt.” you saw his lips upturn into a smirk and you thought about it.
“mmkay’ but if you can’t do it i’m gonna be mad at you.” you were joking of course and eddie knew that too, his eyes rolling playfully before he pointed at the mirror,
“look, we get a nice view too.” he hummed, kissing at your neck before you felt one of his tap your hip, gesturing for you to stand up.
he didn’t even have to say anything, you already lifted up your arms and let him tug off your shirt—no bra on— before he leaned in, trailing wet kisses down from your tummy towards the hem of your skirt, hooking his fingers under and tugging it down, stunned when he saw you had opted for no panties today either.
you giggled knowingly, watching the way his tongue darted out to swipe across his lip, eyes dragging slowly up then back down your body and you felt your tummy flutter in excitement.
an eager plea was already at the tip of your tongue, ready to burst but fizzling out into a gasp, body jolting when you felt his head dip down, tongue flicking back and forth along your clit and your fingers flew into his hair, tangling with the unruly strands.
you almost stumbled back if it wasn't for your grip on his hair and the way his hands found place at your ass, blunt nails digging into the fleshy skin.
"a-auh, eddie mm.." you squeaked out, feeling the way he pushed his head further in between your legs, tongue darting out to lap up your delicious wetness between your cunt.
the way you were just standing there, fully exposed with your fully clothed boyfriend sitting on the bed, in between your legs, and going to town on your pussy had your head feeling hazy with desire.
your breathing was scattered and you were finding it hard to keep your eyes steady on him, watching the way he pulled away a little and chuckled, chin dripping with his salvia and your fluids, "you get wet so easy princess.." he snickered, "wonder who got you like that." he cooed, cocky which only got you further ruffled.
"shut up.." you choked out, pushing his head back between your legs, hearing him laugh before indulging once again, tongue way wilder this time and oh god, you could feel the tip of his nose pressing against your clit when he pressed the tip of his tongue inside you, "o-oh!" you shrieked, eyes squeezing shut.
you could’ve screamed bloody murder or maybe just cried when you felt him pull back away again, “wha— what are you doing..” you whimpered out and he watched your eyes glass over, a soft chuckle leaving his lips.
“baby, i’m gonna make you squirt, not let you finish on my tongue.” he turned you around, and you didn’t protest, feeling him manhandle you into a position over his lap, you faced sideways a little but mostly forward and he spread your legs then pointed over to the mirror in front of you both.
“gonna be a good girl and watch?” he murmured and your eyes dragged over your naked body through the mirror, you looked so pretty like this, rested on eddie’s lap like you were his lil trophy, or more like his lil plaything.
“let me play with my baby, i got you, s’okay now angel.” he cooed sweetly and you whined a little, legs closing before you yelped, feeling a gentle warning slap on your clit, “nu uh uh, open, they stay open.” he told you sternly, in contrast with the firm kisses he was pressing against your neck and the way his fingers at your clit were rubbing you gently.
“can’t, can’t stay still.” you shook your head, breathing picking up and legs jolting in the air a little when you felt another slap.
“it’s okay baby, you will, for me won’t you?” his chin rested at your shoulder, his bottom lip jutted out into a pout and your heart softened when you saw him in the mirror, nodding without even thinking.
“mmkay’ for you.” you agreed, voice hushed before your eyes darted down to watch his ring-adorned fingers inching down to your puffy slicked pussy.
“so cute sweetheart.” he hummed, mocking your little gasps when he inched a finger inside your pussy, “yeah?” he was smug, noticing how jumbled your brain was already
“don’t know if you can actually do it..” he bit down on his bottom lip, “might be too much for you to handle if you’re like this alr—“ you cut him off, fingers gripping his arm that was toying with you.
“i can do it!” you frowned, “i can, i wanna.” you assured him, hearing him laugh under his breath and you felt your whole body heat up, trying to ground yourself, it was true, you were already majorly worked up.
“keep going.” you encouraged him, the cutest pout on your lips and he felt his pants get tighter when he watched you push his hand at your pussy, followed by your pretty moans.
“you’re so filthy.” he poked his tongue on the inside of his cheek, feeling you shiver at the cold metal of his rings on your swollen pussy, but he didn’t give you too much of a breather before another finger was pushing inside you, your head tilting back and you let any whimpers, mewls and pleads flow from your sparkly pink glossed-lips.
“the mirror baby, look.” he reminded you, nudging your head back up with his arm, you were a little dazed but composed yourself and looked ahead at the mirror, seeing the way his two fingers were stuffed in your pussy, pumping in and out, though you nearly lost it all when you watched him spit on you, a puddle of salvia landing on your pussy which his thumb slid over and pressed against your clit, tapping and pushing— urging delicious waves of pleasure to spark throughout your whole body.
“oh m-my, eddie!” you sobbed out, nails digging into his skin that would surely leave marks, “nmghn, more, more..” you chanted out breathlessly.
“mmh? right there?” he cooed sweetly, fingers curling and pressing up against that delicious spongy spot inside you whilst his thumb abused your clit. you couldn’t even give him a coherent response but he knew he had you right where he wanted and he wouldn’t stop, how could he when you looked this cute, hearing the squelching sounds of your wet pussy sucking his fingers in and the way you were sniffling, cheeks wet with tears from the immense pleasure.
you felt the way your stomach tightened, that strong sensation lingering and threatening to snap but it felt so much more intense this time like you would pass out but you had to chase it, you’d cry for different reasons if you let that feeling go.
“that’s it baby, feels good hmm? that’s it.” he groaned out, watching your whole body trembling and you were babbling nonsense in between chanting out his name.
“i-i, think m’ gonna c-cum!” you gasped out, face scrunching in pleasure and incessant moans falling, oh god, it felt like you were gonna burst, almost like you were gonna pee yourself.
“ah, shit, that’s it, good girl.” eddie cooed, fingers pumping erratically and seeing you gush out, pushing out even more of your mess with each push of his fingers, drenching your inner thighs and his lap underneath you and it was the hottest thing he had ever seen.
you were shaking and whimpering, fat tears rolling down your eyes as your hips bucked up widely, feeling the slippery and sticky mess everywhere. oh my god, you did it— eddie did it and it was the best feeling you had ever felt.
you were breathing heavily and your whole body went limp, absolutely drained as you blinked your eyes open slowly, looking at the filthy mess that was yourself in the mirror.
you mustered up a giggle, dipping your fingers in between your thighs and coating the digits with your fluid, pushing them into your mouth and humming.
“you’re the sexiest thing i’ve ever seen, holy fuck..” he bit down on his bottom lip, fingers dragging up your abused pussy and getting a taste of you for himself, “the tastiest too.” he winked, “didn’t i tell you i could do it huh? you don’t give me enough credit.” he smirked and you weakly nudged his shoulder.
“whatever, i love you, stupid.” you playfully scowled at him, groaning when you felt him pulling away to set you properly on the bed, “no.. come back.” you protested.
“i gotta take a picture, you look s’cute.” he giggled and you couldn’t say no, so you let him find the polaroid camera, hearing it snap over and over, multiple pictures of you in the mirror, fucked out and covered in your mess— his hard work.
“mine.” he hummed, setting the camera aside and plopping himself down on the bed, tugging you into his arms and smothering your face in kisses, “all mine, love you so much.” he cooed and you giggled at all the affection.
“i’m all messy..” you whined, arms and legs snug around him, “get me in the shower and i’ll let you fuck my throat.” you smiled, smug against his ear.
“say less..” he swooped you into his arms, headed straight for the bathroom.
“mmh, i love you eddie munson.” you placed soft kisses at his neck, “knew you were a keeper.” you giggled.
so i’ve been watching critical role over quarantine and apparently it’s impossible for me to half ass anything so i’m obsessed, and obviously my love of rarepairs has gone nowhere, so im basically contractually obligated to write about Fjord and Caduceus. this has no plot, is completely indulgent and i really hope that whoever reads it enjoys it anyway lmao it’s also on ao3!!
They’re at the Xhorhaus at Caduceus’s own insistence. He told everyone he wanted to check on the tree and their makeshift temple, and Caduceus never asks for anything so the Mighty Nein is packing up before he’s finished the question. It almost makes him feel a little guilty, considering he really just wants to get his hands on Caleb and Essek. They need a good pot of tea and a solid talking to. Realistically, he thinks he could have just said that but Caleb is skittish about matters of the heart, especially when he didn’t initiate them on his own.
Beau knows though. She corners him before they leave, out of earshot of most everyone. “Duce. This about Essek?”
He laughs a little to himself, an airy thing. “Kind of. I would like to check on him, I'm hoping he’ll come see us. Or let us see him.”
“I don’t trust him.”
“You probably shouldn’t,” Caduceus grins.
“How is it possible that I know that you mean that but I still feel a little guilty?” she says, a little sheepish as Caduceus laughs. “How can you trust him so easily?”
“I have faith that you guys will ask the right questions. If he doesn’t care for us, or have our best interests at heart, I’m very confident the more suspicious of us will be on top of it. But I trust Mr. Caleb, and he didn't condemn him,” Caduceus says with a shrug. “Neither will I.”
Beau just looks at him for a moment before sniffing harshly and blowing out a loud breath. “Fucking fine. I won’t tear him a new one but don’t think I didn’t notice that you gave me permission to pull every possible piece of information out of him.”
“Of course,” Caduceus says, barely containing his smile. “I know who you are, Ms. Beau, and I expect you to be yourself.”
Beau blushes, for some reason, and clears her throat. “Right. Thanks, Duce.”
He gives a mock, half salute that he’s seen her give to their captain, and it makes her laugh before she strolls off. It doesn’t take them much longer before they’re off, Caleb finishing off the teleportation circle with a dramatic flourish that makes Jester giggle, the whole point of it, Caduceus is sure.
The familiar trek to the Xhorhaus seems to take no time at all, the tree he’s grown so fond of twinkling with a soft light the closer they get, a beacon, of sorts, welcoming them home. He’s a little surprised by how much he loves their place here; he’s not like the rest of the Nein, he already has a place that he considers home, so the new one was not so significant for him as for the others. In fact, it took him a while to even accept the place as theirs and not expect some ulterior motives to come to light. The feelings were unfamiliar territory for him at the time, suspicion and a lack of appreciation for a gift so grand, and the planting of the tree was a way for him to apologize and make peace in the space. It definitely seemed to work, if the happy flutter in his heart at the sound of the chimes when they enter is anything to go by.
Everyone goes to their respective rooms to store their things, chatting genially before they go their separate ways.
Everyone other than Fjord.
He does a loop around the common room, getting familiar again with his steps before he centers himself in the room, inhaling, and mumbling something under his breath with the exhale. The gentle reverb that follows confirms what Caduceus assumed he would do; the blade glows blue and Fjord glows with it, his See Invisibility spell activated.
The bunch in his muscles draw his attention first as he holds the greatsword aloft, inhaling again and opening his eyes on the exhale, their blue glow matching the runes on his blade. They highlight the depth of his cheekbones and strength of his jaw, his already handsome features softly accentuated. Fjord starts to walk the room with a more keen gaze, his steps strong and sure in a way Caduceus has only noticed since he accepted their Mother’s grace. He decides to turn tail and head up the stairs before Fjord has a chance to ask questions about his lingering that he isn’t prepared to answer.
The smell of dirt greets him as he ascends the stairs and he takes a deep breath, entering the roof with a grin. Everything is as he left it, the twinkling lights from their tree painting the room a soft yellow with their glow. Every bit of life to be seen seems to reach toward him as he enters and he greets them brightly, apologizing for being gone so long and asking each that he passes how they’re getting along.
A breeze warms him a little while later and it carries a friendly warning as it leaves him, explained when he hears the footsteps of someone approaching.
Too large to be Veth or Jester, too loud to be Beau or Yasha, too heavy to be Caleb, leaving only—
Fjord knocks gently twice before he lifts the hatch.
“Hey, Ducey,” he says with a smile. “Can I come up?”
“You know you’re always welcome, Mr. Fjord.”
Caduceus turns to greet him happily and sees some of the plants turn towards Fjord in his peripheral; he chuckles a bit at Fjord’s look of awe that he catches at a glance and shuffles over to grab the kettle and start a pot of tea. He turns back to ask Fjord if he wants any and stops, blinking slowly.
Fjord is saying something but Caduceus is barely paying attention, distracted as he is by the fitted, soft linen Fjord is adorned in. It’s not as though he’s never seen him in underclothes before, they’ve shared a space too many times for that to be the case, but those clothes all bore the wear and tear of the life the half-orc led, and politeness ensured Caduceus never let his eyes linger too long, for obvious and other reasons.
Never before had Caduceus seen Fjord looking so dressed down, so comfortable, cozy, safe. It fills him up inside, butterflies with wings stronger than any he’d encountered in Melora’s fields fighting for purchase in his belly. He wants to touch him: his face to memorize the laugh lines there, his chest to feel the steady beat of his heart, his back to guard it and ensure no one ever catches him unaware again.
He wants to protect him. He wants to tell him. He wants to keep looking and never say anything else ever again.
And that’s. Well, it’s weird.
Caduceus Clay, infatuated? Enamored? With one of his own party? How could it have happened without his notice?
“Uh, Caduceus?” Fjord calls, and he sounds closer than before.
Caduceus blinks slowly and looks down at his concerned friend now standing close enough to touch, and he takes advantage, grabbing him around the elbow, his dark green skin and black claws clashing prettily with Caduceus’s pale sleeves and light grey fur.
“Alright?” Fjord asks, sounding a little more concerned this time.
Caduceus blinks at him and clears his throat around a little white lie. “Yes, sorry. Sometimes I fall deep into my conversations with the Wildmother. Um, tea?”
Fjord looks closely at him before nodding and releasing him, and Caduceus takes the first chance to hide his face, cheeks blushing with his new revelation as he walks over to the little fire pit he’d dug out just for the kettle. He can hear Fjord walking closer, slowly, probably taking in the roof like he does every time he’s here, even though he’s seen it many times over. It’s endearing, and those butterflies from before seem to have made themselves at home in his belly, fluttering madly. He takes a couple deep breaths that don’t help at all and curses his luck.
“Man, I never get tired of that,” Fjord says, having finally made his way over and sitting down close by.
Caduceus looks at his smile and thinks, yeah, me either.
“It never really gets old.” He says instead. “Is that what you came up for? Not that I ever mind, just curious.”
“Oh, no, I wanted to thank you actually.” Fjord says. He’s looking at Caduceus with such earnest sincerity that Caduceus’s heart swoops in his chest. “I’m loath to admit it but I think I needed a break and I know I would never have bothered to ask, even once I figured out I needed it.
I know you don’t do it on purpose, but just having you around makes everything easier, better. And I feel like we don’t tell you that enough, or tell you thank you often enough. So, thank you.”
Fjord squeezes his hand, smiling softly at him, his lips finally used to the tusks that are growing in proud and strong. Caduceus grips him back and hopes that the answering squeeze and tears in his eyes are enough to express his gratitude.
“And also. I’m not around all the time obviously, so forgive me if I’m wrong, but you’ve never really talked about, you know, anything, really. You’ve gone through some pretty fucked shit like the rest of us and you deserve the care you keep trying to give everyone else. So, if you ever need to talk to anyone,” Fjord says softly, cupping one of Caduceus’s hands in both of his and smiling a self-deprecating grin. “I’m here. I’m a mess, but I’m a good listener.”
“Okay,” Caduceus says, around the lump in his throat. “Thank you, Mr. Fjord.”
“Okay,” Fjord says back, cheeky grin turning into a relieved smile. “Thank you, Mr. Clay.”
Caduceus nods and looks at him for longer than strictly necessary, and it doesn't escape his notice that Fjord lets him, stealing in some glances of his own. Caduceus’s heart swoops again and he finds himself wishing he could ask Melora for a bit of guidance, knowing her answer would be vague and leave him feeling more confused than ever. The frustration barely has time to take hold before he feels a warm breeze like fingers caressing his cheek and Fjord must soon follow, if his gentle chuckle is anything to go by.
He feels selfish for his frustration, fleeting as it was.
COuld you please write a 7.12 fic related please plaease im sorry for bothering you
So this is the scene of the two of them drinking together and listening to his father’s records. The one piece of context somebody might not know is that during a flashback to Harvey’s childhood in this episode Gordon’s band is playing a song called “Boppin’ with Donna”.
Sometimes I like to write a fic that starts on nothing and goes nowhere, you know, like the show. I hope it’s not too bad - Maria
Reticent
“Rememberwhen-”
“Ido.”
“Youdidn’t let me finish.”
Shechuckles, looks over at him with an eyebrow raised cockily “Really?”
Hersmugness stirs something beneath his chest, a warmth, a momentum only she canprovoke. It makes him feel guilty, the intimacy and precision in the way sheaffects him, dangerous. He swallows it down, dry and thick. Feigns indifferencehe figures she sees right through.
He rollshis eyes, “Sure, what was I saying?”
“Youwere going to ask if I remember another time we heard this song,” there’s notease in it but perhaps a little nostalgia, she understands his resistance tospar, she always understands.
Henods unspoken gratitude even though their agreements are supposed to beentirely elusive. A tired sighs pours out of him feeling the weight of theirrecent misunderstandings then, like fifty pounds sitting on his chest, stealinghis breath. He forces himself to shake it off “With my dad,” he meant todistract from the choking way he thinks about her now, in these increasinglyrare moments, like the two of them, as a unit, are fading, but it outs in awhisper like it is holy. In some ways, he figures it is.
“Withyour dad,” She agrees quietly, lovingly, a reflection of the sanctity in hisvoice refracted and divided like light into purer, more colorful sentiment.
Shehas always been better at this than he, better at feeling his feelings.
Therecord gasps and stops, saddling them with imperfect silence, the hum of thecity, ghosts and blurred edges. Harvey reaches over and lifts the needle beforeit can sing again.
Heleans back into the cushions, rolls his wrist until the amber in his tumblerspirals like a drain. His mind swirls and sinks with it, struck by a memory.
“Firsttime you heard it, right?” He asks almost sweetly; halting the swirl by rollingthe glass the other way he turns to her slowly.
Pastblends into present, he blames the scotch for seeing two of her overlapped. Oneexists minus ten years with longer hair and brighter clothes, bangs and a lotless complication; the other has been wearing black for the last week andhasn’t made him coffee in a year.
Hewonders who he would pick, fleetingly; knows without a doubt he would chooseher now, whenever now is. The most important thing has always been that she stays.
Donnasmiles, “Yeah, and he had the brass to say it was for me,” She reminisces,leaning forward. She pours herself another dose. The crystalline sound of thebottle touching the edge of glass ricochets across empty space prettily; theirtheme song.
“Itis your name in the title,” Harvey argues with faux gravity, still seeingdouble. In his mind’s eye, her dress is purple and his father’s voice ischarming, he never missed a beat with her.
“Itjust happens to precede my arrival by a couple of decades,” She counters.
Harveyscoffs, “Your arrival?”
Shenods “Yes, the amazing, life changing day, you met me,” she declares grandly.
He agreesbut cannot agree, “Seriously?”
Sheputs one hand on her chest, mouth agape, the picture of over-dramatic outrage“Oh, I’m sorry, we just established I was prophesied.”
“Inever said that.”
“Ithink you did.”
“No,I didn’t.”
Donnastraightens herself, crossing her legs and resting her hands on top of eachother on her knee, she stares him down seriously “Your honor, I think thedefendant is aiming for a perjury indictment.”
Harveysnorts a laugh, surprised as she sparks to life the old routine, there’sdelight but also an ache to it as they flex muscles they haven’t used forlonger than he had realized, “I believe the prosecution is distorting theevents,” he rebuttals setting down his glass to focus.
Donna narrows hereyes, pretends to look down at imaginary papers and push up glasses she doesn’tneed, “Mr. Specter, do you deny the day you met me was life changing?”
Harvey rolls hiseyes, “Really?” He whines.
“Plead the fifth?”She offers defiantly.
“Coward’s move andyou know it,” he chastises.
“If the shoe fits,”she says, reaching for her glass and taking a sip that does not break eyecontact. He watches the glimmer of humor in her hazel eyes and only marginallyremembers this is exactly what he was supposed to be avoiding.
“Whether you did ordidn’t is not the point, the point is I never said it,” he argues smugly.
“Well, well,” Donnastarts, leaning back with poise and pride, resting her forearms on the arms ofthe chair and drumming her fingers on the edges reflexively, “I see we havelowered ourselves to technicalities. Cheap.”
Harvey smiles, “Aslong as it gets results.”
“No honor,” she nods disapprovingly,though a laugh is edging behind her lips.
It is something elsehe has not seen in a while, this specific expression, he wonders if they reallyhave been fading or if he just hasn’t been paying attention. Which reminds him.
“My father did writea song for you,” he blurts out.
Donna lets the laughfly, he has heard it plenty but it is still welcoming warm familiarity, “No, hedidn’t,” She tells him like it is sure and obvious, like he has had too much todrink.
“He did,” Harveyinsists, wondering how he could forget, though maybe he is stretching thetruth, “He kinda did,” He corrects himself.
Donna raises aneyebrow, sustaining her suspicion “Kinda?”
“He never recorded it.It was a draft,” he reveals, “He said he got inspired out of the blue one day,”Harvey sinks into the memory, he himself only heard it once.
It was at his father’sapartment during a damp New York summer afternoon and they had run out of otherthings to talk about. Gordon hesitated to play him the song, kept explaining himself.Harvey mostly thought it was funny, “He asked me not to tell you,” He hadn’tand then it had never come up again, “I’m sorry, I forgot,” he apologizes and turnsto find her eyes, they’re glossed over with unshed tears. He blinks andrealizes so were his when wet warmth rolls down his cheeks.
“Did he write itdown?” It moves the very ground he stands on that that is the first thing sheasks, that she misses his father too.
It hurts all the moreto have to answer, “If he did, I never found it.”
She sighs, “If you do,it’s mine,” assertive but kind.
He sees the purple dressagain and bright red hair cascading over it as she throws her head back tolaugh at Gordon’s blunt flirting, “Of course,” he whispers so gravely it feelsmore binding than any contract. He could not deny her most things, much lessthis.
Donna nods, takes adeep breath and lets it out slowly, “You really killed the casual mood,” shejabs.
Harvey smiles, shakeshis head, “Sorry.”
“It’s okay, I wantedto know, I just wish you hadn’t done the job halfway,” she says it between asmile, it is a joke, an absolution, but he can see the edge of disappointmentin her eyes. He cannot read them as perfectly but that is a look he has alwaysbeen afraid of and paradoxically only grown more familiar with. He needs to dissolveher ache.
“Hey,” he whispers,reaching for one of her hands and stopping short of touching, they have kissedand hugged but he doesn’t know where they draw this new line, if meaning it toomuch violates its borders, “I am sorry,” he tells it from his core and watchesher drink it into hers.
“It’s okay,” sheanswers, her fingers tremble, itching to bridge the gap between them, insteadshe recoils not wanting the blame for breaking them again just for trying toinch closer, “It’s okay.”
They are too tangled,metaphorically, sometimes he wonders if he can even shake her off withouthollowing himself out, wonders if she feels the same. He is selfish enough towish she does, it would mean some kind of barrier from the searing pain ofbeing left. He is selfless enough to also wish she doesn’t for a chance tonever hurt her again with his careless needs.
He should not be thinkingabout any of that, “We finished the bottle,” he points out flatly, stealing aglance at the half inch of scotch left inside the glass.
She follows his gaze,“We almost did,” Donna says andreaches for the neck, downs the rest in one gulp, “There, now it’s done,” Hewatches with bemused surprise as she sets the empty Macallan back on his centretable, turns it between her fingers to ponder the label, “At least it was justa 12 year.”
“You say that like itmakes us less drunk,” he remarks, covering her hand on the bottle with hiswithout thinking, without pretense, just to turn it to him so he can also read.Hers falls away a second later, he wonders if it means she is afraid to touchhim now, hopes not.
“It doesn’t,” sheagrees, “I think I’m tired,” she says and points it with a yawn.
“You think?” Harveysmiles affectionately, “Are you brewing a hangover?” He asks, mildly worried.He knows scotch can upset her stomach and that she hates to vomit, he alsoknows she has some secret hangover cure she never told him about because itwould ‘encourage his bad habits’. How the tables have turned; he is barelydizzy.
“Are you asking thatas my boss or my friend?” She interrogates, side eyeing him suspiciously.
“Both,” because he isboth, needs her there tomorrow morning but also cares if she will be miserablethe entire night.
“I’ll be late, butI’ll be fine,” she bargains.
His eyebrows knighttogether, “You don’t have to come in,” the complacency is immediate, so muchfor thinking he can accept her misery.
One corner of herlips pulls up, she wants to say that is not the business-wise decision “I’ll behere,” she reassures him instead. She is a little disappointed in herself forbeing so averse to letting him down even in small ways.
Donna smoothes outthe skirt of her dress and stands on surer legs than the half bottle she drank wouldhave anyone guess.
“Already?Lightweight,” He teases, sneaking a glance at his watch, a quarter to midnight.
“I thought you had tobe home an hour ago,” She bites back, the implication is a double-edged sword,reminds him he has someone waiting; reminds her that she does not.
Harvey presses hislips together and watches his hands intently. She sighs, taking pity on him,like always.
“Sorry, I need Advil,”she breathes out tiredly.
He nods, “You’reright,” he says without meeting her eyes, “Good night.”
Donna considers him,them. She is tired and dizzy and has a headache brewing behind her eyes; it isnot her job to heal him, it never really was, “You know, I was wondering,” Shestarts and waits until he looks at her again, “Would I make a good lawyer?” ahand outstretched, it isn’t her job,she volunteers to save him.
Harvey allows himselfa small smile, “Thinking about going to law school?”
She scoffs, “God no.”
His eyebrows shootup,”Excuse me?”
She rolls her eyes,“You know what I mean.”
He does. He takes apause to think on it “You wouldn’t,” he answers earnestly.
She is mildlysurprised; Donna narrows her eyes at him, “Not smart enough?” As if, she isfishing and he knows it, she wants him to know it.
Harvey snorts alaugh, “You’d overachieve I’m sure,” it is what she wanted to hear, theexpected, but he isn’t done “Too good,” He adds, “You’re… too good,” headmits softly, with candid admiration.
Her breath hitches,he can do that sometimes, when it’s almost midnight and he knows she will dohim the courtesy of not bringing it up in the morning.
“You’re a goodperson, Harvey,” their lives might be easier if she could not read him sofluently.
He presses his lipstogether and shifts his eyes to the floor, index anxiously thrumming the glassstill in his hand, “Not always,” he made a lot of mistakes, can’t tell whichone is knocking on his conscience the loudest right now, “Not like you.”
“Well,” she startsgood-naturedly, “Nobody is like me,” Donna brags jokingly.
Harvey smiles andshakes his head “I’ll drink to that,” he announces and empties his tumbler.
She watches and sighs,feeling the prickle of the headache intensify, “Now it’s good night.”
He nods, “It is,” heagrees without looking.
She can feel histhoughts, his regrets, makes it hard to detach, “Are you okay enough toremember your address?” She teases, hanging back, a subtle way to ask if he isokay.
He snorts, “Sharp asa razor, I just…” he lingers, deciding if he wants to keep her “I think I’lllisten to a few more,” He admits, “Since nobody else will from now on.”
He hardly ever makesit easy on her.
Donna sighs, crossinghis office to pour herself a glass of water. She takes a pill from her bag nextto it and swallows it down with one sip, then moves to the window where therecords are stacked and lifts two of her favorites, “Which one?”
Harvey almost offersher an out, but there is no point in pretending he does not still need herthere, that he didn’t choose the words to make her stay “Left,” he picks andshifts on his seat, reaching for it.
She pulls the vinyloff the sleeve and hands it to him, waits until he gently trades the one on therecord player for it before going back to her seat. Once she’s settled Harveylets the needle drop and his office fills with his father’s music.
“I miss him,” hewhispers like he is trying to hide the confession in between the notes.
Donna closes hereyes, leans her head back until she’s facing the ceiling and breathes it in, “Iknow,” she answers.
They don’t speakagain except to mumble simple goodbyes an hour later, giving life permission togo on unhinged at dawn.
