#jester x astrid
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Hello all! Hope your Wednesday has been well so far. This week we have fourteen fics featuring various different polyamorous ships! As always, you can find them below the cut and if you check any of them out, I encourage you to leave kudoes and comments to spread the rarepair love 💕
gilded mischief by annie_blackbird (20,437 words, Explicit) Pairing: Yussa Errenis/Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast (Shadowidoyussa) Warnings: Consensual Somnophilia, Safeword Use, Mentions of Slavery
Caleb and Essek spend a night with Yussa, with Caleb under the effect of a sleeping potion. After some discussion, the night progresses with Essek as Yussa's very good boy.
Reccer Says: *grabs you by the shoulder* you need to read this fic. Even if you're not already aboard the Shadowidoyussa ship. It will convert you. It is so soft. It is so hot. Like, the perfect balance of tooth-rotting fluff and scorchingly hot smut. Yussa is Exandria's softest dom and I adore him. Essek is a sweetheart doing his very best and I'm holding him in my hands. Caleb is asleep but the ways he's still a present influence on the story through Essek's POV is absolutely wonderful. Please read it, you will not regret it.
can't you see yourself by my side? by ryseling (7,519 words, Explicit) Pairing: Fjord/Jester Lavorre/Caleb Widogast (Widofjorester) Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Under-negotiated Relationship
Fjord and Jester are together, and Caleb - hopelessly in love with them as he is - agrees to a threesome. Porn with feelings, Caleb POV.
Reccer Says: Very well written in terms of style. Everyone also feels very in character.
Hearts Full of Light by kaeda (5,032 words, Mature) Pairing: Astrid Beck/Fjord/Eadwulf Grieve/Jester Lavorre Warnings: None
The nein & friends are restoring the blooming grove after Trent's attack in 141. Mostly lighthearted as Jester meddles & matchmakes. POV alternating between Fjord and Jester.
Reccer Says: Jester/Astrid/Fjord/Eadwulf is such an underrated rarepair.
all glittering things by quinn_of_aebradore (32,418 words, Teen) Pairing: Mollymauk Tealeaf/Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast (Shadowidomauk) Warnings: Minor Canon Character Death
"Essek Thelyss, prodigious dunamancer and crown Prince of Rosohna. Caleb Widogast, illustrious court mage for the Lord Eadwulf Grieve of Blumenthal. Mollymauk Tealeaf, Opal of Nicodranas, fourth child of the Tealeaf Estate. What happens when affection escapes the bounds of propriety and courting? What comes once a kiss has been bestowed? A romance draped with light and honey, of course."
Reccer Says: I just love this entire AU so much so I'm cheating and reccing the whole thing lol... it's so well done and thoughtfully constructed, and they're sooo lovey dovey and pining and flirty ugghggh - bonus: the lucien vs essek part makes me especially feral 🤣💜
Kisses by the Road by Clare_Hope (6,351 words, Teen) Pairing: Dorian Storm/Fearne Calloway/Dariax Zaveon/Opal Warnings: Alcohol
Fearne wins the drinking contest in Byroden and requests kisses as her prize. Polyamory and shenanigans ensue.
Reccer Says: I enjoyed it!
I dream of you amid the flowers by glittergarbage (66,967 words, Explicit) Pairing: Mollymauk Tealeaf/Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast (Shadowidomauk) Warnings: Dirty Talk, Smut, AFAB NB Molly, Threesome
"In which Mollymauk comes back to his body, minus a few memories, at the Blooming Grove. Essek is intrigued. Caleb is glad."
Reccer Says: I LOVE THIS FIC SM.... it's such a perfect post-canon depiction of the slow, realistic, exciting, curious unfolding of their relationship, and I love their characterizations and dynamics 🥰🥰🥰 it's a SWM classic to me
First Light by the_deep_magic (5,673 words, Explicit) Pairing: Ashton Greymoore/Orym/Dorian Storm (Dashrym) Warnings: None
Ashton wakes up while Orym is doing his morning exercises, which they find Very Sexy. Dorian, already awake, agrees and the two of them pretend to be asleep until Orym is done and they can have sex about it.
Reccer Says: Domestic Dashrym, hot smut, and a very well-written Ashton POV 💕
locked in here with us by wanderingbasilisk (3,002 words, General) Pairing: Mollymauk Tealeaf/Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast (Shadowidomauk) Warnings: None
"a dragon, a damsel in a tower, a knight in shining armor you can guess how this goes ;)"
Reccer Says: Love a fairytale AU! It's just so sweet and fun and adorable and there's a little sprinkle of angst in there which is sooo good 💜🧡💜 delightful and heartwarming
in the light of long-dead things by Anonymous (3,426 words, Teen) Pairing: Astrid Beck/Eadwulf Grieve/Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast (Blumenshadow) Warnings: PTSD, Panic Attacks
While spending the night in Caleb’s tower, Astrid gets thrown into the past.
Reccer Says: God, the way this one has Stuck with me since I first read it. The visual of Astrid squeezing herself under the nook by the stairs is burned into my brain. Her panic, Wulf coaxing her back to herself and the present, her reactions to Caleb and Essek, it’s all so heartaching and wonderful, I love it so much.
to be in someone else's coat by jaskofalltrades (1,369 words, General) Pairing: Mollymauk Tealeaf/Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast (Shadowidomauk) Warnings: None
Widomauk/Pre-Shadowidomauk where Molly and Caleb were the ones to walk Essek home from dinner at the Xhorhaus
Reccer Says: Listen SWM canon molly lives AU is a wonderful and rare creature and this is one such example that gave me the warm cozies... also I LOVE WHEN THEY FLIRT AAAA 💜💕
Where I am going you can't save me by thesweetpianowritingdownmylife (20,461 words, Teen) Pairing: Jester Lavorre/Beauregard Lionett/Yasha Nydoorin (Beauyashter) Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Vomiting, Blood
Yasha starts coughing up petals, white and blue. There is no doubt to whom they belong. Aka Beaujasha Hanahaki AU. Set after episode 89.
Reccer Says: I enjoyed it!
keep following the heartlines on your hands by floralprintshark (8,014 words, Teen) Pairing: Fjord/Mollymauk Tealeaf/Caleb Widogast (Widofjolly) Warnings: None
Five times Molly tries to set up Fjord and Caleb with each other and one time Molly gets set up with them.
Reccer Says: I enjoyed it!
We also have two reccs for: the stranger who was your self by Demenior (60,045 words, Mature) Pairing: Fjord/Eadwulf Grieve/Jester Lavorre Warnings: Power Dynamics
Eadwulf joins Fjord & Jester's crew as they sail the Lucidian. POV alternating between the three leads. Fjord and Jester are about to embark on a high-seas adventure...and Eadwulf shows up and insists on joining their crew. They don't know what he's plotting (or what he's running away from,) but that won't stop them from flirting with him until they find out.
Reccer 1 Says: I enjoyed it! Reccer 2 Says: Adorable Fjorester flirting. All the sexual tension of that one sword fight between Fjord and Eadwulf. Unstoppable force (Jester Lavorre) meets immovable object (the world's most miserable, wretched wet dog of a scourger.)
And we have three reccs for: amongst the things left unforgiven by nonwal (63,958 words, Mature) Pairings: Astrid Beck/Eadwulf Grieve/Essek Thelyss, Astrid Beck/Eadwulf Grieve/Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast (Blumenshadow) Warnings: Panic Attacks, Discussions of Suicidality/Euthenasia, Temporary Character Death, Suicidal Ideation
Astrid and Eodwulf start visiting Essek in Rosonah to keep an eye on him, then Essek starts visiting them at Caleb's tower in Rexxentrum to keep an eye on them. They dance around eachother in conversation out of mutual distrust (and flirting) long enough to save Essek from himself and fall in love about it. Astrid and Eadwulf take it upon themselves to save Essek from himself. Two scourgers show up at Essek's home to interrogate him about the Mighty Nein. Then he discovers that both of them are also uselessly pining over Caleb. Then, he gets closer than advisable.
Reccer 1 Says: the character dynamics and banter are absolutely top notch. the author really nails the character voices. Reccer 2 Says: I enjoyed it! Reccer 3 Says: An alternate ending to C2 with a great balance of intrigue, angst, slow-burn romance, and fluff (if you can count three wizards lying to each other for fun as fluff.)
Thank you for joining us this week’s recc list! All the love to everyone who submitted a fic 💕 All enclosed recommendations were submitted by the community via our submissions form, which you can find here. All fic information is as it was provided by the reccer, so it may not be accurate to the author’s intent or the precise contents of the fic itself. Please assume good intent from all parties 💕
Submissions for next week’s list are already open! We’ll be featuring Enemies to Lovers. If you have any you’d like to highlight, you can send them in here. The week after that, the theme is Miscommunication and the weeks after that we’re taking recommendations for Works in Progress and Angst! Submissions for all of these themes are currently open.
If you want more rarepair fic, check out @cr-summer-wildflowers and their event collections on ao3! If you want some friendship after all this romance, take a look at @critter-genfic-events and their recc lists! And if you’re interested in everyone’s favorite wizards, you can’t go wrong with the lists at @aeor-is-for-reccing !
Thanks all and have a lovely day/night/timezone! 💕
#critter rarepair recc lists#shadowidoyussa#widofjorester#astrid x fjord x eadwulf x jester#fjord x eadwulf x jester#astrid x eadwulf x essek#blumenshadow#shadowidomauk#dashrym#dorian x fearne x dariax x opal#beauyashter#widofjolly
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"i'm sure astrid loves you very much" D: D: D:
#1h5m c2e24#text#critical role#cr2#cr lb#jester lavorre#caleb widogast#r: jester x caleb#astrid becke
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Caleb Widogast - Flames by Tedy
But when I'm near you I feel flames
I touch the fire, I get burned
I feel this rush beneath my feet, it's like I'm falling
Is this love
Oh, this is love
#mighty nein#cr2#critical role c2#campaign 2#the mighty nein#caleb widogast#bren aldric ermendrud#liam o'brien#jester lavorre#jester critical role#essek thelyss#astrid beck#eadwulf grieve#blumentrio#widojest#shadowgast#essek x caleb#caleb x jester#critical role#Spotify
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A/N: HI GUYS I cant believe I’m doing this, I haven’t written in for so long, but ima try my best 🐱 About!!:This is a Cicero X Listener! this is kinda like a slow burn with lots of yapping, so get ur reading glasses on 😭🙏
BTW! the white is the slow burn, and the pink is NSFW! for the people who just wanna get freaky😛 Warnings!!: NSFW, talk about death, bleeding
Cicero and his Skibidy
The Dragonbron, The listener, how many more names where you going to be taking!? Being both the Dragonborn and Listener was a stressful-- to say the least. You had to worry about Alduin, pleasing everyone in skyrim and worrying if you where enough for all of her. And joining the Dark Brotherhood wasn't any help with this stress AT ALL. you constantly got contracts from Nazir and Astrid, and now the Night Mother. it was all simply to much to bare. You needed a.. Distraction. somthing that could get your mind off your duitys even if it was just for a single moment.
"Oh listener!", that jesters voice rung through your bedroom. your perked your head up, looking to the doorway, finding Cicero with a grin on his face.
"you seem stressed! let sweet Cicero help!", he spoke, lifting a foot to step into your room.
"no! leave, i need time to think", You shouted out without thinking. The jester froze, but reluctently left you. You turned back to the fire, your mind was a mess, whirring around. you didn't understand it anymore. Soon enough, you had yet another annoying contract. but when you came back to report to Astrid, the Lizard was bleeding.
Cicero went bezerk, trying to kill Astrid. you couldn't help but put the blame on yourself, "maybe if I didn't snap, It wouldnt have brought him to this breaking point.". You ended up finding him in the Dawnstar Sanctuary. He cowered before you, blood pouring from his stomach. he was a mad man.
Cicero wheezed, gasping for breath. "You caught me! I surrender..", he laughed weakly.
"time to die, tratior!", you yelled back to him, unsheathing your sword.
"traitor? Me? silly assassin. so confused, so confused.. and they say im mad!", He continued with a gasp for breath, clutching onto his wound, "If im a tratior, so are you! have you not heard the maiden's voice? are you not the listener?", he questioned. Anger seeped into his tone as he sat up, that grin still on is face. even in the face of death, this jester is still.. grinning, has he no idea of what could happen to him? what could happen by your hand?
you left. going back to the Sanctuary, telling Astrid he is dead. everything after this went by a blur. nothing but that jester in your mind, was he still alive? would he attack again? You killed the emperor, Astrid died by your hand, and now you where the leader and listener of the Dark Brotherhood. Nothing made sense anymore. you sat in you masterbedroom, head in your hands when you heard Cicero's voice.
"Oh listener..", He hummed, "Cicero is back. what? you think i'd be grateful that you saved my life?! NO! Cicero wants to be Listener, Cicero deserves to be Listener!", He yelled. You stood up quickly, trying to unsheath your sword, but he got to you first, pinning you against the wall. You let out a yelp, looking into those dark brown eyes of his as he held his Ebony Dagger across your neck, that same insaine grin spread across his face. but he paused.
Cicero laughed, resting his head against your shoulder. "You should see the look on your face! Cicero was just kidding, oh great and powerful listener..", he breathed into your ear, his gaze becoming.. darker. You looked at him through the corner of your eye, watching him trace his blade down your neck and to your collerbone, a smirk on his lips. "My sweet listener.. Cicero.. finds himself captivated by you, by how you whimper to his touch", He hushed against your ear, warm breath tickling your neck. he pressed against you, the bulge in his pants growing more prominant. You found yourself unable to push him away, to be honest.. this was the exact thing you needed to get your mind off your duties.
"Your naughty", You spoke back, that siren gaze of yours peirceing into Cicero's own lustful gaze. your pushed your hips against his, Cicero whimpering. he pressed his forehead into your's, dropping hus dagger aside. Instead of him holding that evil grin, you held your own, now leaning more into Cicero, your breath becoming ragged. but Cicero placed a finger on your lips, standing up, glaring down at you.
"Imagine us, my listener. The Keeper and His Listener... Cicero likes this thought, and the sound of it.. turns him on", He giggled, now leaning in and claiming your lips as his. He moaned into the kiss, clutching your body close, his hands reaching down to your ass and grabbing it tightly, his bulge throbbing against your thighs. You shut your eyes, between every kiss taking a gasp of air before his tounge could plunge back into your mouth, swirling and dancing with your own. you pressed your hips against his harshly, causing him to let out a soft moan. he broke the kiss, his gaze filled with nothing but a primal instinct to take you, to love his listener.
"come on..", you taunted teasingly, reaching a hand down to his bulge, gently grasping and feeling, Cicero's own breath leaving him. "Just fuck me already. make me forget all the bad, all the good. I want to be seeing stars.", You begged, Cicero growling with need and roughly lifting up your shirt, revealing your beautiful chest to his gaze. his eyes widened and he couldnt help but lean in, taking one hardened peak into his mouth. looking up to you with dark brown eyes, he swirled his tongue aroun the peak, his eyes shutting as he nipped lightly against you, your body jolting slightly with pleasure.
"Oh.. my listener likes that, do they?", He whispered against your skin, now kneeling on his knees, kissing down your belly to your belt, he tugged at it. with a mocking look of innocents, he undid your belt, tossing it aside and pulling down your pants to his hungry gaze. he bit his bottom lip and couldn't tear his eyes away from your dripping arousal.
"Your amazing.", He breathed against heated skin. hesitantly, he stuck his tongue out, sliding between slick folds, a moan leaving his lips as he savored your salty sweet taste, causing you to shudder with pleasure, your hand instinctively reaching out to tangle fingers in his bright red hair. "you taste amazing too.." he added. he shut his eyes, taking that throbbing pearl into his mouth. he suckled, and flicked his tongue against it with need, a need to please his listener. he lapped and lapped at you for hours until you where nothing but a quivering soaked mess, your body left limp in his own. he moved to your bed, rocking you in his arms.
"Hush my sweet.. Cicero is here, to care and love you.", he whispered to you, pressing his lips that your release coated, to your brow.
"But after you have pleased poor aching Cicero..", He grinned once more as he looked down to you... what have you gotten yourself into?
Idk if I’ll do a pt 2 only if u guys are freaky deeky 🤤
#cicero#cicero skyrim#cicero x listener#x reader#skryim#writers on tumblr#artists on tumblr#not safe fw
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Hi! I was reading your work and i thought you were a excellent writter.
💓💓
So im gonna shoot my shot and ask you for a Cicero x Fem!reader drabble/headcannon who is also a jester? Nsfw and sfw would be appreciated alot!
XOXO -anon💓💓💓
Wow Anon, I am so sorry about this late response. I was never notified of this ask. I hope this will make up for how long you had to wait. Much love and blessings to you.
She skipped merrily along a path. she knew not where she was going, but she knew that it was beautiful. In her hands she held flowers of lavender and tundra cotton. On her face she smiled with such glee. The sun was out. The wind was blowing and-
"I told you to quit asking you freakish Jester! Get out of here before I do something you'll regret!" Such anger in this voice. Rushing a little forward to come over a small hill, she noticed a man walking back to a cart that was loose of its wheel. He looked quite annoyed, but his outfit really explained it all. She decided then she would help him as best she could. Anger, annoyance, or sadness she would turn this strangers frown upside down.
Upon speaking with him, she found out that this man was transporting his dear mother to a new home. How sweet of him to honor his deceased mother. "Thank you so much Cicero for telling me about this!" She smiled up at him and grabbed his hand, placing in it a small bouquet of lilac and white. "I'll go speak with Loreius and we can get that wheel fixed!"
Despite offering her coin, she denied it. She waited until Loreius came down with some tools and even helped as best she could. Once the wagon was finished, she offered Cicero her name. He did smile and danced as she repeated her name. "Ah! (Y/N), (Y/N), (Y/N)! Such a pretty name for a shining lady! Thank you! Offering lucky Cicero flowers to make Cicero smile again! Oh Mother would be so lucky to have you in her family!"
The oddity of this statement made her confused but still she smiled and gripped his hands and began to spine him around. "I love to make people feel better! I'm so glad I could help you. May our paths meet again!"
---
Indeed their paths met again. She joined the dark brotherhood by accident and by the leader no less. Coming back to the lair, she heard Astrid and a familiar voice.
"Ugh, we have one Jester, but Cicero WILL be afforded the respect deserving his position as Keeper."
When she rounded the corner, she saw a familiar face and a familiar set of lilac and white. "Cicero? Oh Cicero! I knew I might see you again!"
---
The two spent so long catching up. She watched him as he tended to the Mothers body. He watched as she was easily able to speak with the other members. He learned from her and she learned from him.
She was preparing to leave out for a mission. She was going to kill some person, oh well she would have to go back for this persons name. But behind her she could hear footsteps. "Hmm?"
Upon turning around, she met the gaze of her dear friend. "Oh! Hello Cicero! Come by to say good luck?" She had a smile on her face, but his face held not happiness or any type of joy. She couldn't place it, but her smile faded. "What's wrong Cicero?"
He met her eyes and weakly chuckled. "Oh (Y/N) poor Cicero came to say goodbye." She couldn't place it, but she could feel its double meaning.
"You mean, Cicero will see you later, right?" A solemn smile came across his lips as he reached out to cup her face.
"Oh my sweet sweet Listener. My sweet sweet (Y/N)." His voice dropped its normal facade that made her eyes widen in shock. "Only for you will I say, I will see you later." He leaned forward to place a kiss on her forehead.
She didn't know what to do with herself. It appeared to be a declaration, but he did not stay to listen. He merrily skipped away chattering about the night mother. Despite her being able to bounce back from anything, this left her curious during her days of travel. She had a mission to complete and she would complete it.
---
She came back to find out about the attack. Perhaps Cicero knew he might stand a chance of dying. She was sent to finish Cicero's life and find Astrids husband. He was always so serious. It left a bad taste in her mouth, but she knew the real reason she was going. If ever there was a chance to see Cicero again, surely she would. Perhaps she was being foolish in her cheery demeanor of that stupid wolf slain. But she still pressed forward to find Cicero. That wolf could wait. That would would surely die another day.
Perhaps Cicero truly feared for his life. The ghosts who were protecting him put up a good fight. Despite being the Listener, they still fought to protect him. She pushed forward regretting that she wasn’t there to protect Cicero. After all, Cicero was right about the family. He didn’t deserve to die and she wasn’t going to give Cicero what he didn’t deserve.
In a pool of his own blood is how she found him. Though he rambled on, she still pursued him.
———-
After the fall of Astrid and the reconstruction of the new base, she brought back Cicero. Despite what Nazeem may have felt or thought, he didn’t say much about the two of them.
Cicero serenaded her with twisted love songs.
She encouraged and praised him with his work and love.
Cicero strived to be pleasing to her and mother.
She understood his commitment to mother.
In the same stride, she would repeat what mother told her. Cicero had waited so long to hear mothers words. As mundane and job heavy as mother words were, he would dance excitedly every time she repeated mothers words.
Despite what others might think, Cicero has another side to him that only she was allowed to see.
Cicero has spent years serving mother and the dark brotherhood. Cicero would surely serve for years more. But Cicero has needs that he never got to explore. Until he met her.
——
I hope this was something you liked. I tried to add a hint of what nsfw head cannons I have for him. I am still trying to figure out if I want to post nsfw on this page. But if I do, I will make one specifically for Cicero.
Thank you for your patience.
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Devotion- Cicero x Listener
Rating: 18+ (MINORS DNI)
Fandom: The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Relationship: Cicero x Listener
TW: mention of some blood (nothing too violent though), smut, fluff
Summary: He worships her, every piece of her. All of his Listener must be worshipped, as ordained. Cicero, sweet Cicero, eager to please. Eager to serve. His lips on hers, his hands roving, searching, exploring. Venerating. He dies inside her, and it is glorious. He would die a thousand times in her, as many times as she wanted. Immolating in her light over and over and over again. Cicero is unsure of this new Listener, but his feelings are muddled and confusing. What will happen when the Listener is forced to choose to take or spare his life?
A/N: I have been trapped in an airport the past two days and am shamelessly writing smut in the terminal. I don't care, I'm so bored and thirsty for this mad jester. I had to do what I had to do, and if writing smut in the middle of the goddamn airport is what I want, then it's what's happening. As I write this, my flight has been delayed yet again. I'm losing my mind. As always, thank you for reading! Any likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated. I've loved Cicero for a long time. I know he's not everyone's cup of tea, but I've been desperately wanting to write for him. He's a favorite Elder Scrolls character of mine for sure. Thank you again! Hope you are all having a great end to the year! Lots of love <3
Read here in this post or over on my AO3.
Silence. Deafening, deafening silence. For so many eons it feels as if all Cicero has heard is laughter and silence. Echoing endlessly in his mind, filling it to the brim, pounding against his skull. He wonders, sometimes, as he lays awake at night if the silence and the laughter will be enough to rupture his skull. If they’ll pour out into the world and drown everyone with the jester’s final words to him. And then here she is, listening. Always listening. Hearing the very words he has longed to hear for over a decade now.
And she’s so ignorant with it all. A rube. A newcomer into this underground society, stepping into his territory, granted with a blessing that should rightfully be poor, loyal Cicero’s. Cicero, who lives in abject silence, forced to watch as a stranger is gifted with the boon of Her voice. Mother always knows what’s best. He wouldn’t dare question Her, and he wouldn’t dare question Her authority on gracing a new Listener with the Gift. He’ll be loyal. Oh so loyal, as Cicero always is. But it does not stop him from hating her. Oh, he’ll serve her, faithful and devoted as he is. If this is what the Night Mother wants, he won’t question. He will only do as he is told. But he doesn’t have to like it.
These months, he’s watched the new Listener with scrutiny. Watched as she’s gained the favor of the other members in Falkreath, as she’s wormed her way into the good graces of that harlot, Astrid. He doesn’t trust anyone here. There’s no reason to, not when they question the ultimate authority of Mother. Especially that Astrid. But the Listener…
Well, Cicero isn’t so sure yet. Her kindness made itself apparent when she helped him on the road just outside Whiterun. He recognized her face immediately when he arrived at the sanctuary. She still had that look of bewilderment and awe that fledgling assassins always have. That he once had in his early days in Cheydinhal. Over the months, he watched the Listener’s dazzlement fade and be replaced with the acceptance of life, such as it is. Yet, there was a certain brightness in her that never seemed to fade. A gentility and strength. She’s been genial with Cicero, but he can glean little else from her. Is she a traitor or an ally? Someone he can trust to upkeep the authority of the Night Mother? Or someone who seeks to tear down everything he holds dear?
The Listener speaks little to Cicero. She speaks little to anyone, really, opting to keep to herself on her downtime. She usually works alone, her skills honed enough to take on even the most difficult of contracts. It’s admirable, really, watching her work. He’s had the pleasure of witnessing her train with the others. From the corner of the room, his dark eyes fall on her, observing every swift motion, every swipe of her blade. And every once in a while, she catches his eye and a spark of something curious lights the facets of her irises. Heat blooms across dear Cicero’s cheeks. How confusing. How strange. Best not to think about it, he reasons, returning to his duties.
“Do you ever have time to train, Cicero?” she asks him one day, innocent curiosity softening her features.
“Oh ho ho!” he returns, confusion muddling his already muddled mind, but he wouldn’t dare let her see that, “Cicero has no time to train. Not when the Night Mother needs tending! Cicero has no need. He takes no contracts. Keeps to himself. Does what he needs to for our Sweet Mother.”
Silence. Such deafening silence. But she smiles softly.
“Well, if you ever want to train, I’m always looking for new partners,” the Listener concludes before gliding off through the snaking corridors of the sanctuary. Cicero is left to stew in annoyance and confusion. Doesn’t she understand his role as Keeper? Doesn’t she understand that he doesn’t train anymore? Why does she ask him such things?
This isn’t the last time she asks this question, and ones like it. Cicero is busy, he returns, but should the Listener require other services, he’s a drop of a hat away.
***
She brings him gifts sometimes. Sweet rolls and honey nut treats, little flowers she stops to pick on her journeys across the continent.
“I thought the Night Mother might like these,” the Listener offers, handing him a small bouquet of nightshade, their purple petals flowering out from their dark centers.
“Oh, yes!” Cicero greets, finding himself delighted by the offer despite his distrust of this woman, “Mother will most certainly love these! Thank you, thank you!”
He places the flowers at Mother’s feet and watches as the Listener passes him a tender beam, before disappearing once again into the shadows. Cicero is even more suspicious. Is this her clumsy attempt to gain his favor? To lull him into a false security? This isn’t the first time he’s dealt with traitors and usurpers, false prophets and charlatans. But the Listeners words were the sacred words:
Darkness rises when silence dies.
And she’d said it with such conviction. Surely, the Night Mother wouldn’t lead him astray.
“No, no. Musn’t question Mother. She knows all,” he mumbles to himself as he sweeps up the area in front of Mother’s coffin. He sweeps furiously, fragments of the booming laughter in his head falling to the floor, shattering into pieces and littering the ground with the final moments of the jester. He sweeps them away, but he just ends up breathing them in again, endless dust, endless laughter, endless silence.
He wonders when the Night Mother will speak to Her Listener again. Wonders if he stood beside the Listener, pressed his ear to her, if he could hear the echo of Mother’s voice in her. If the Listener bleeds, will she bleed the Voice? In her final moments, would her death rattle exhale Mother’s words? Would he finally hear? He wonders if he pressed himself to her, tight and close, if her whole body would act as a shell at the beach, echoing Mother’s voice like the powerful waves of a dark sea.
***
“Dear Cicero?” her gentle voice sounds from the doorway, halting his endless humming. He whips around to look at his Listener and freezes. Cicero hates when she prances about in her nightclothes. They’re billowy and thin. Revealing, in a modest sort of way. He can see the silhouette of her curves, outlined underneath her nightgown by the dull light of the sanctuary. The pinpoints of her nipples peek through the fine cloth, and her bosom rises and falls gently with each breath. Silence abates in him for a beat. The laughter ceases for a moment. It’s been a long time since he’s felt- since he’s felt whatever this is. And then she calls him, “Dear Cicero,” and it drives him mad. Mad, mad, mad.
“Yes, my Listener?” he returns, ever loyal. Always ready to serve.
“May I join you? I can’t sleep and- I’d like some company,” she goes on sheepishly, eyes bright and searching. Cicero obliges. Loyal Cicero would never deny such an innocent request, but he wonders why she doesn’t ask Nazir, or Gabriela, or Festus. Why him? He’s wary, but he won’t fight it.
So she huddles up in a chair beside him while he works, while he tends to Mother and talks aloud to himself. The Listener says nothing. She sits in silence and watches curiously as the Keeper goes about his duties. Occasionally, she chuckles at a limerick or song Cicero lets slip from his ever chattering mouth. Her laugh is musical. Her laugh is grating. He hates it. He loves it. Cicero doesn’t know what he thinks.
Eventually, Cicero looks over and she’s fallen fast asleep, head resting against the chair back, knees huddled to her chest. She looks so terribly uncomfortable and yet, so utterly peaceful. Silence abates, laughter ceases. As if he can’t help himself, Cicero brushes back a strand of her hair, gloved fingers lingering for a moment on her cheeks. There is something lovely about this Listener, in all her silence and shroud of mystery. In her small kindnesses and attempts to befriend him. Perhaps Cicero is too cold. Perhaps he’s not cold enough.
“Poor, tired Listener shouldn’t sleep in such discomfort,” he mutters, carefully lifting her from her chair. She stirs, but does not wake, sighing softly and snuggling up in his arms. Heat blooms along Cicero’s cheeks as he carries her towards her chambers. Gently, the Keeper tucks the Listener into her bed and leaves behind only a single nightshade on her bed stand. For a moment, Cicero knows peace. Momentary peace, a mind clear for once, before confusion takes over again. Maybe he hates her. Maybe he's infatuated. It all feels the same. That same deep cutting emotion. Friend or foe? Enemy or ally? Cicero has learned not to trust, but Mother wouldn’t lead him astray. No, Mother would never lead him astray. Right?
***
Sometimes, at night, when Cicero dares to sleep, he dreams of her. Of the Listener, beckoning him into her bed. Temptress, siren. His lustful dreams fill his core with a heat he’s not felt in years. Her naked form greets him, pulling him closer. She takes him in the sanctity of her bedroom, in his, in every room of the sanctuary. He worships her, every piece of her. All of his Listener must be worshipped, as ordained. Cicero, sweet Cicero, eager to please. Eager to serve. His lips on hers, his hands roving, searching, exploring. Venerating. He dies inside her, and it is glorious. He would die a thousand times in her, as many times as she wanted. Immolating in her light over and over and over again.
He wakes in a confused sweat, regretting falling asleep, and continues his duties. He tries desperately to push these lustful fantasies from his mind. But it’s so terribly difficult when she brushes past him, when she gifts him flowers and sweets. When she smiles at him and asks how his day has been. When she speaks to him like he’s a person, and not just the ghost of a jester long dead.
***
Wrack and ruin. That devil Astrid is up to no good. Cicero knew never to trust her, he rages as he stumbles through the snow. Charlatan, pretender, imposter. And that damned sheepdog chasing after him, wounding him. Well, Cicero gives as good as he gets. Better, even. That stinking wolfman can’t chase after him now, not after the slash dear Cicero’s given him.
Dawnstar is a wreck, but it’s better than nothing. Cicero clutches his injured abdomen, crimson seeping between his fingers as he staggers down the stairs and retreats into the inner rooms. He’s always known he wouldn’t get any sympathy, any understanding from any of Astrid’s underlings. But the Listener… Now they’re an entirely different matter. Will she believe that liar Astrid? Side with that devil? Or will she find sanity in madness? In Cicero’s conviction? In their beloved Night Mother?
Protected by an army of ghostly assassins, a feral troll, and layers of branching corridors and locked doorways, Cicero awaits his fate. For hours, it feels, he shivers in the depths of the abandoned Dawnstar sanctuary, pressing his hand to his wound, trying desperately to stop the bleeding. He needs some amount of strength if the Listener chooses to end him. He’s not going without a fight.
And then, after what feels like eternities of silence and of laughter, he hears the door to the sanctuary open, a distant creak . And he laughs. He laughs, and laughs, and laughs.
“Listener! Is that you? Oh, I knew you'd come. Send the best to defeat the best. Astrid knew her stupid wolf couldn't slay sly Cicero,” he calls out, waiting eagerly for a response. But he’s met with what he’s always met with: silence. No matter, he thinks to himself. He doesn’t need them to respond to make this entertaining. No, if he’s going to go out, he’s going out with a bang and a laugh.
He can hear them moving through the corridors, swiftly putting down the specters that haunt and protect this sanctuary. Cicero knows it’s the Listener. He can feel it in his bones. And their silence does little to assuage his fears. His death is coming. It’s imminent.
“Oh, but this isn't at all what Mother would want. You kill the Keeper or I kill the Listener? Now that's madness,” he trails off. He doesn’t want to have to plead, but he will. Though he can’t hear Mother’s voice, he knows this isn’t what She would want. All Mother wants is to keep Her family together. Not see it destroyed. Not again. No, Cicero doesn’t want to be left alone again.
“All right, so Cicero attacked that harlot, Astrid! But what's a fool to do, when his mother is slandered and mocked? Surely the Listener understands!” he begs. She’s moving so fast. He’s hardly gotten a chance to steel himself for the battle to come. Surely the Listener wouldn’t kill poor Cicero. She gives him gifts, asks for his company. Smiles at him, talks to him. Like he’s just as much a person as she is. As anyone else is. Not like some madman. Surely this kind Listener wouldn’t end his life so cruelly? Surely the two of them wouldn’t rip this family apart? Because he’ll be as much a part of this tragedy as she is.
The doors creak open and there she is. Relief and fear flood the Keeper’s heart. The Listener appears in the doorway, a shadow opposite the flickering light of the fire in the hearth behind him. Cicero smirks.
"And now we come to the end of our play. The grand finale."
Damn her, she still won’t talk. Her brows are furrowed, eyes lit with anger and mouth set in a deep frown. He’s never seen her look so upset. This is it, Cicero thinks. The end of the Keeper. The end of the Listener. He’s disappointed his Mother so deeply. How will She ever forgive him?
"You caught me! I surrender! Ha ha ha ha,” he chuckles before dissolving into a coughing fit.
“There’s only one cure for your madness, Cicero,” she finally, finally, speaks, but it stings him, “ Me. ”
And then something wild sparks in him. Something fiery and warm. A devilish grin pulls at the corners of Cicero’s lips. His eyes meet the enigmatic gaze of his Listener.
"Oh, I like that!” Cicero purrs, before loudly adding, “Very good, very good! Creative! But killing me would be a mistake! Oh yes. You would displease our Mother, hmm? For she's your Mother too, isn't she... Listener? Walk away! Let poor Cicero live! Tell the pretender Astrid you did the job! Stabbed, strangled, drowned poor Cicero! One little itty bitty lie!"
“You want me to lie to my superiors?” the Listener returns, something unreadable crossing her face as she strides purposefully towards the crumpled up Keeper. He gulps, unsure of her tone.
“You, my dear Listener, are Astrid’s superior,” he reasons, trying to maintain the grin on his face, though finding it difficult in this moment of uncertainty. The Listener steps ever closer. Cicero grips the knife at his side. This is it. It’s the end for one of them. He’s failed his Mother so spectacularly.
And then, something strange happens. As she approaches, the Listener kneels down, features softening, brows relaxing and eyes filling with sorrow.
“You’re hurt, dear Cicero,” she breathes, looking at the crimson blooming through his clothes. She gently removes his hand from his wound, inspects the injury, and tugs off her gloves. She hovers her hand over the slash in his abdomen, Cicero watching with growing curiosity and confusion. A spell, radiant and warm, emanates from her palm.
“I know that you are wary of me,” she begins, her voice quiet, “But like you, I hear a voice long dead. Long passed on. I know about the jester, Cicero. I know about your life before.”
“You- know about the jester?” he offers, wincing as his flesh repairs itself, stitches itself back together with the help of her restorative powers.
“We are both Listeners, in our own ways. Heeding the calls, the orders, the perplexing whims of the past,” she continues, gazing into his eyes, some strange understanding glittering in her irises, “We do not always choose who we hear. But we do not have to be alone in our suffering. Or our boons. Whatever forms those take.”
“I am loyal to the Night Mother, Cicero,” she assures, pulling her hand away, satisfied with the closure of his injury. Good as new, Cicero thinks, poking at the newly healed flesh, flabbergasted by this odd Listener.
“And I am loyal to you,” she goes on, “And should you need more proof, I would be glad to give it. Ask me to cut my hand, to bleed as a pact. Ask of me anything to prove to you that I can be trusted, and I will do it. You have shown me nothing but loyalty and kindness, dear Cicero. Your devotion is admirable. I know you have struggled to believe I am an ally. I have tried to show you, in my own clumsy way. But I assure you, I am with you. I am at your side, now until the end of us.”
Silence. And then laughter. Endless laughter. Oh, how silly he’s been! How utterly silly, foolish Cicero has been! The halls of the Dawnstar sanctuary echo with Cicero’s maniacal laughter. What utter foolishness, imbecilic and doltish. This Listener, in all her kindness, would never betray him. Would never betray the Night Mother. She’s offering up sacrifices to prove it, and here Cicero has been, doubting her. And more confusingly, dreaming of her. Visions of adoring her, of knowing her and her knowing him, fill Cicero’s mind.
“Your imprudent Cicero has been so utterly foolish, dear Listener,” he chuckles ruefully, “You’ve proven your devotion to our Mother well enough. Cicero is the one who needs to prove his devotion.”
Her fingers sweep a limp strand of Cicero’s copper hair out of his face, and he takes the opportunity to gently grasp her hand in his. He holds it by his cheek, a silent “thank-you” for sparing his life. Her pulse is quick, fluttering. Her cheeks are flushed and rosy. When he lets go of her, she does not withdraw, instead tenderly caressing the angle of his cheek with the soft pad of her thumb.
“Your devotion is unmatched, dear Cicero,” she whispers. A breathless tension hovers weighty in the air. A tension that has existed from the moment he set eyes on her. And she, him. Cicero’s outfit is hot, so hot, suddenly, when moments ago he was shivering from blood loss and the chill of winter. No, his devotion hasn’t been showcased nearly enough. Cicero’s Listener must know how utterly, completely, entirely devoted he is.
And so show her, he shall. His lips press against hers, hungry, yearning, desperate. And she is equally as needy. Her fingers tangle in his hair, grip the short ones at the nape of his neck, knock off the cap that rests atop his head.
“My dear Listener, my devotion to you is body and soul,” he proclaims, ripping off the bodice of her armor as she makes quick work of his trousers and shirt. She gasps into him, filling Cicero’s lungs with her warmth. He breathes her in like smoke, letting her ignite him. Destroy and rebuild him. Silence abates. Laughter ceases. The Listener is his sole focus. His loyalty is unsurpassable.
Her skin is warm. So warm. So much warmer than he expected. Warmer than the cold flesh he’s been tending to this last decade or so. It’s been so long since he’s felt anyone’s touch, anyone’s warmth. So long since he could give any part of himself to another, other than as the role of Keeper, and Keeper alone. So long since he’s received. And her touch is so gentle. This savage assassin, brutal and cold, yet so tender and sweet with poor, dear Cicero.
“My dearest Cicero,” the Listener coos, trailing kiss after kiss along his jawline, suckling at the tender flesh of his neck. He sucks in a breath through his teeth, digs his fingers into the supple flesh of her ass.
“My sweet, loyal Cicero,” she praises, nails tickling the sensitive flesh of his thighs.
“My Listener,” is all he can manage to utter, voice cracking as she sinks her teeth into his neck. Gods, he welcomes her markings, her claims on his body. She is his Listener and he is her Keeper. Bound to one another in a union that no one else in the whole world could ever understand.
As Cicero’s hands rove over her body, his eyes drink her form in. He traces the branching veins underneath her skin, each wiry sinew of her muscles, the fibrous tendons of her arms. He can feel the pulse of warm blood flowing through her. Feel the thrum of her heart beating, strong and powerful, behind her ribcage. He lays his lips to the pert bud of one of her nipples and loses his mind at the sound of her keens and gasps.
“Such a pretty voice, my Listener,” he purrs, “You should sing with dear Cicero more.” To this, she gives a twittering laugh. He’s forgotten what a pleasant laugh sounds like and basks in the glory of it. His mind quickly abandons this thought as her hand cups him, massaging and insistent. Gods, he’s so sensitive. It’s been so long. So very long. He won’t last much longer if this keeps up.
Her fingers wrap around his dick, stroke up and down in a languorous fashion. He swallows up her gasp as he swipes a finger along her cunt. She’s so wet already, ready for him. Husky grunts and tiny mewls fill the room, mingling with the crackle of the fire, as she picks up her pace and he dips two fingers into her heat. He pumps, rhythmic and slow, each motion an attempt to show her that Cicero lives to please her. To venerate and worship his beloved Listener.
“Cicero,” she whimpers, breath fanning softly against his lips, her breathing shallow and rapid. She’s close. He can feel her walls quaking around his slick fingers, and he’s not far off either. Her free hand grips his back, digging her fingernails into his flesh, a silent plea for him to fill her. And fill her he shall. Cicero would do anything for his Listener. He would lie prostrate at her feet if she asked him to. Stand guard over her until the very stars in the sky fizzled to nothing but dust.
Cicero withdraws his fingers from her, frowning at the little whine she gives at leaving her empty.
“Hush, dear Listener,” he coos, drawing her in close, “I won’t leave you empty for long. Worry not. Dear Cicero isn’t that cruel.”
His lips press kiss after kiss down her abdomen. He feels her body shiver as he reaches her heat. Cicero’s eyes glimmer with mischief in the firelight, and hers with that ever-present inquisitiveness. She is a vision from any angle, but this one especially. Her breasts rise and fall with each labored breath. She is open to him and he will respect this with every fiber in his being. Now, to worship his Listener as she deserves. Cicero dives into her folds, tongue lapping her up. Her moans are enough to send him into a whole new kind of madness. A welcome, drunken madness. His tongue darts in and out of her entrance, nose bumping against her inner thighs. He grips her legs, tight to keep her in place, but not so tight as to injure her. The feeling of her fingers carding through his hair alone could make him finish.
He lays her on her back, atop his discarded clothes. The floor is cold, hard, and covered in layers of ash and grime. He wouldn’t dare lay her down on this filth. Cicero wouldn’t dream of letting his precious Listener scramble around in the dirt. Cicero will take it all. All the pain of kneeling on the rough stone flooring, fragments digging into his skin. He’ll take the markings and the layer of dark soot that will stain his fair skin. For his Listener. All for her. And he would have it no other way.
This act is sacred. Her pleasuring him, him pleasuring her. This is a reverence he has never known. His tongue swirls around her clit and she breathes his name, a hymn in this temple of night and shadow. She tenses as she comes closer and closer to undoing, her legs shaking in his grasp.
“I want us to finish together, my darling, Cicero,” she begs, and thus he shall oblige. He withdraws from her, licking his lips, lapping her up, luxuriating in the taste of her. She smashes her lips against his, sloppy and desperate. Cicero positions his Listener on his lap, lining her entrance up with his hardened cock.
The scent of iron hangs heavy in the air, his own blood mingling with soot and smoke. His hands grip the supple flesh of her ass and thighs. He kneads and massages as she lowers herself onto his erection, so painfully slow. He handles her carefully. Not like porcelain, no. The Listener is not fragile. Far from it. But he treats her like a fine, ceremonial sword: something elegant and sacred, but sharpened and ready to dole out damage when needed.
“Are you ready, my Keeper?” she questions, eyes dark with lust, cheeks flushed with arousal.
“Cicero is always ready,” he growls. With this, she rocks her hips against his. Sheathed inside of her, Cicero knows what it feels like for the first time to be unioned with the Listener. This bond is beyond anything else he will ever know.
She grinds faster into him, his tip hitting her deep, making her whimper joyously, aching and longing. He’ll gladly let her milk him for all he’s worth. Anything his Listener wants, he’ll oblige. His core tightens, releases, tightens. Her nails dig into his back, his knees into the floor. He’ll be so sore tomorrow, but he cares not. He’d do it again, and again, and again if she wanted. In the enveloping shadows, the Keeper and the Listener come undone for one another. Cicero spills into her, giving all that he has. She tightens around him, walls pulsing, drawing from him everything she needs. Everything he needs. He cries out her name, and she his, prayer-like and hallowed. This sanctuary has become a temple for devotion, for ultimate veneration and reverence. To the union of the Keeper and the Listener.
As they settle, Cicero runs his fingers through her hair, presses kiss after kiss to her cheeks, to her lips, to her temples. Her fingernails tickle his arms, his chest, his cheeks. Is this what peace feels like? He knows the laughter, the silence will return. But for now, he and his Listener can bask in this new silence. This tranquil, unadulterated silence. When he pulls out from her, he lays his lips to hers, an apology for having to separate them. Cum drips down her thigh and he’s swift to help her tidy up.
“My Keeper. My dear Cicero,” she whispers, beaming tenderly as she leans her forehead against his.
“My dear Listener. My beloved Listener,” he returns, drawing her in, letting her rest in his protective embrace. He will protect her, love and cherish her, always and forever. Cicero’s devotion is unmatched, except perhaps by his dear Listener’s devotion to him. He knows the Night Mother will approve of this union. Surely, certainly, wholly and absolutely.
#the elder scrolls#skyrim#cicero#cicero skyrim#the elder scrolls 5#cicero x listener#the dark brotherhood#the listener#dovakhiin#dragonborn#spicy#skyrim fanfiction#dani writes#skyrim cicero
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Accidental Insanity
(Cicero x Assassin!Reader)
A/N: I did this in the really early hours (around 1-2am) so I'm sorry if it seems kooky at some points.
The sun hung low in the sky. Pretty purples, oranges and yellows covered the sky. Inside a hidden sanctuary lived an organization of highly trained assassins. The people you called your ‘family’. You were currently sitting in your private room. The cream colored candles on your desk burned with a soft glow, the wax slowly sliding down the sides from how many times you used them. Dipping a quill in the inkwell, you started writing on the paper again. The sound of mumbling and light laughter caught your attention. You knew who the voice belonged to, Cicero. The deranged man who was accepted into the organization by your boss and ‘sister’, Astrid.
An older voice spoke up, the person sounded annoyed. “Will someone shut up the clown!” You sighed and set your quill down before standing up and making your way to the main area. There, you saw Cicero tapping his lips with his pointer finger, like he was thinking.
When he saw you, his eyes lit up and he happily skipped to you. “Happy to see Y/n! Yes yes indeed!” If he had a tail you swore it would be wagging. “Are you done with your writings?” You nodded with a friendly smile. Cicero basically bounced on his heels in excitement.
The old man Festus Krex walked to you both, his famous sour expression showing on his face. “Y/n, are you just going to talk or actually work?” Cicero’s eyes darkened and a look of pure hatred appeared across his face.
He unsheathed his dagger from his side and pointed it at Festus Krex. “You dare speak to my Mistress in such a way?” His voice spoke with intent to kill.
The shock on Festus Krex’s face only showed for a second before it turned into irritation, his teeth gritting together. “Like you have the nerve to wield that steel to my throat.” Cicero’s actions spoke for him as he lunged forward and placed the steel dagger to Festus Krex’s throat. The smile spreading across Cicero’s face could creep out even an Orc warrior. Other members who saw the scene either put down or ignored what they were doing and ran to them.
Astrid was the first to get to them. “Cicero, stop this madness!” Her voice sounded rushed and slightly panicked.
Cicero’s eyes never left Festus Krex with that grin still plastered on his face. “He disrespected the Listener, now he faces the punishment.”
“Cicero…” Your voice was soft but stern. After what felt like an eternity, he finally lowered his weapon from the old man’s throat.
“Do you not have any sense? You could have actually hurt him, you fool.” Astrid’s husband, Arnbjorn, pushed the jester to the ground causing his clothes to become dirty. Cicero’s dagger sliced his own hand during the impact.
You noticed this and glared at the man, helping Cicero up. “Do you? Maybe he shouldn't have acted like he did but at least he has more brains than you, mutt.” Before anyone could speak, you led Cicero away from the group of armed assassins. He didn’t protest but why would he? He trusts you more than anyone. You brought him to your chambers, making him sit down on the bed.
He watched as you went to and fro looking for stuff. “What are you gathering dear Listener?” His voice seemed less cheery than before.
“Looking for stuff to clean that hand.” you replied. Cicero raised an eyebrow in confusion. Why help him? Nobody does so why are you? Why now? He didn’t notice you as you came closer to him, lifting his chin to look into his eyes. “Are you alright? You look spaced out.”
Cicero came back to reality and smiled big. “Oh yes, yes! Cicero is glad you’re the one helping him!” You observed his face, knowing there was something gnawing at him. You took his chin between your fingers and made him fully look at you. The beat of his heart pounded faster and he could feel heat rise to his cheeks. He was so confused about what this feeling was.
“Are you sure? You're red as a tomato. Feeling sick at all?” you asked Cicero. Cicero shook his head, not trusting his voice. You took his jester's hat off him and placed it to the side. His red hair cascaded to his shoulders, some strands getting in his face. “Maybe that will make your temperature less hot.” You took his injured hand and put ointment on the cut gently. You then wrapped his hand with bandage wrappings and when you were finished, you kissed his palm. “There, all better.”
Cicero cleared his throat and smiled. “Oh, so polite and friendly! Yes, Cicero thanks your kindness!
You put the wooden bowl down which contained the ointment. “Don’t thank me. I’m just showing genuine care.”
He tilted his head to the side, authentic confusion in his eyes. “But, no one else does!” You cupped his cheeks, your eyes softening as you looked at him. ‘Oh no, there's that feeling again!’ Cicero thought to himself. He looked back up at you and into your eyes that he very much adored.
“If you need me, you know where to find me. Alright?” Your voice spoke like velvet. He nodded and watched as you smiled and walked away, leaving him to ponder. Ever since then, Cicero followed you wherever you went. Either just walking across the room or traveling to a city, he was there. You did not mind his company that much. His jokes and boisterous personality made the trips more entertaining.
* * *
Your heart still hastily beats from the battle you just witnessed. You made sure to check if anyone followed you from the fort and dismounted your horse. You stood outside the sanctuary with your black horse, gently stroking its mane and whispering praises to the proud creature. You walked to the door past the hanging moss from overhead. The first thing that you heard was Astrid's voice, yelling with anger. “Astrid! What is causing you such distress?”
“Cicero has crossed the line this time! He went nuts and stabbed Veezara! I want you to find him and kill him. And make it slow…” Your heart plummeted to your stomach. Astrid’s words replayed in your head. You turned your head to look at Veezara who was sitting down and clutching his side. “Yes, Sister…”
* * *
You rode to the old sanctuary on your horse through the cold wind and blistering snow. With each step the horse’s hooves made, a crunch could be heard. Red liquid was all you saw when you got to the stone door. Pushing it open and making your way through the old structure, you followed the blood droplets leading you further in. Then you saw him, Cicero. He was pacing back and forth, rambling to himself. Your eyes softened slightly but you put your feelings aside and went to him.
“Cicero is sorry…He didn’t mean to!” It seemed the panic was still in his eyes.
“Yes I know.” You carefully stepped closer. When he’s in this state you know to be slow and cautious with everything you say or do. Cicero laughed, the sound of it made your skin crawl. Before you knew it, tears were escaping his eyes like waterfalls. His psychotic laughter rang through both of your ears as you watched him. “Let’s–” You didn’t finish your sentence when Cicero suddenly came at you, his fingers wrapping around his dagger. Your instincts kicked in and you drew your weapon.
Cicero’s body fell limp in your arms as the steel sword plunged into his stomach. The musty room you were in felt almost suffocating as you sat on the cold floor. Your hands couldn’t stop shaking as the bloody sword you held finally fell to the floor with a clang. The images of the day ran through your mind like a slideshow. Your breaths became jagged as you looked at the pool of blood that had formed under his corpse. His body still layed there, his head facing away from you. Sure you had killed many times before but this time, it was different.
“I just wanted to save him…” You kept whispering these words over and over again. His once beating heart now could barely be felt or heard. You felt like crying as you placed your hands over your mouth. You never knew why his crazy personality interested you but it did. You slowly pulled yourself up onto your legs that threatened to go out. You took the items off his dead body and left without looking back.
* * *
Everytime you turned you could have sworn he was there. You opened the door that led to the place you called home. Astrid looked up from the blade she was holding and smiled at you. “I suppose Cicero is dead?”
You nodded, refusing to look her in the eyes. “Yes, now if you don’t need me I'll be out for a while.” Before Astrid could answer, You walked away with your hood up which concealed the tears that tried to break out. You hopped onto your horse that you kept tied up outside and instantly made him go into a fast trot.
Soft whispers and tsk sounds made your ears perk and a chill to run through your spine. The horse's movements slowed to a near stop and your eyes racked over your surroundings. All you heard was the wind but then you heard it.
Cicero watched you as he sat on a nearby cliff, a sorrowful look on his face. “My my, tears don’t look good on you…”
Your eyes widened and then your eyes landed on him. “Cicero…no it–it can’t be…”
“Hello, My Treasure…”
#anime#skyrim elder scrolls#skyrim#fanfiction#fanfic#video game#x reader#cicero#jester#fanasty#romance#angst#tw#player character#relationship#elder scrolls#gender neutral s/o#gender neutral y/n
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Popular Pairing List Update
The following pairings have more than 10 recent posts in their pairing tag, and are therefore too popular to be posted on Rarepair Thursdays:
Aaliyah Amrohi x Cruz Manuelos (Special Ops: Lioness)
Ainhoa Arminza x Luz Romaña Lasierra (4 estrellas)
Audrey Jensen x Emma Duval (MTV Scream)
B'Elanna Torres x Seven of Nine (Star Trek: Voyager)
Bette Porter x Tina Kennard (The L Word)
Gwen x Morgana (Merlin)
Gyoza x Manaow (Love Senior)
Hannah Taylor x Shira Bolitar (Harlan Coben's Shelter)
Hermione Granger x Narcissa Malfoy (Harry Potter)
Isabel x Josie (Bottoms)
Laura Lee x Lottie Matthews (Yellowjackets)
Mantis x Nebula (Marvel Cinematic Universe)
Riri Williams x Shuri (Marvel Cinematic Universe; Marvel Comics)
Seo Ji-wan x Yoon Sol (Nevertheless)
Tendo Akane x Unryu Akari (Ranma 1/2)
The following pairings have been posted less frequently recently, and have therefore been removed from the popular pairing list:
Aerith Gainsborough x Tifa Lockhart (Final Fantasy)
Alice x Ludmila (Rune Factory)
Anne Boonchuy x Sasha Waybright (Amphibia)
Bernadetta von Varley x Petra Macneary (Fire Emblem)
Bess Till x Miss Audrey (Snowpiercer)
Candace Powell x Lilly Fortenberry (Astrid and Lilly Save The World)
Cora Hale x Lydia Martin (Teen Wolf)
Dani Ramos x Grace (Terminator: Dark Fate)
Eleanor Roosevelt x Lorena Hickok (The First Lady)
Ellen Waverly x Pam Horton (For All Mankind)
Esther Warner x Max Chapman (Amazon A League of Their Own)
Eve x Mazikeen (Lucifer)
Franki x Taylor Bloom (Love Classified)
Ginny Weasley x Pansy Parkinson (Harry Potter)
Haniwa x Wren (See)
Jester Lavorre x Yasha Nydoorin (Critical Role)
Kira Yukimura x Malia Tate (Teen Wolf)
Laurie x Mira Harberg (Irma Vep)
Lucy Westenra x Mina Murray (Dracula)
Midge Maisel x Susie Myerson (The Marvelous Mrs Maisel)
Regina Mills x Ruby (Once Upon A Time)
Root x Sameen Shaw (Person of Interest)
#femslash#wlw#lesbian#bisexual#femmeslash#femslashrevolution#femslash revolution#Rarepair Thursdays#popular pairing list#mod post
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More Blooming Grove shenanigans
- Eadwulf continues to awkwardly flirt with Fjord. When Fjord finally tells him that he is actually in a relationship with Jester, Eadwulf just looks confused. "That never stopped us before," he says, glancing over at Caleb and Astrid.
Fjord's "Wait, HE DATED BOTH OF YOU?" can be heard in Shadycreek Run.
In the meanwhile, Eadwulf turns to Jester.
"Hey..................... you look good."
- Luc proceeds to simultaneously drive everyone crazy and make them all adore him so much that he has a whole group of newly acquired family who would go to the end of the earth for him
- Luc may or may not have shot a helpless Trent Ikithon in the eye
- Jester tries to befriend Astrid, who helplessly looks over at Caleb as she is dragged into a flower crown make session. Caleb gives her a thumbs up and starts to make one for Essek
- Soon it is a competition and everyone is making flower crowns, of course with respect to the flowers and the graves they grow on
- Trent Ikithon does not get a flower crown
#critical role#shadowgast#fjorester#caleb widogast#jester lavorre#eadwulf grieve#fjord stone#astrid beck#trent ikithon#caleb x astrid#jester x astrid#that one week must have been CRAZY#on the one hand#you have three traumatized individuals telling their story of abuse#on the other hand#it is the Mighty Nein with no supervision
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i dont even know,,,
#jester#astrid#critical role#critical role spoilers#cr#cr spoilers#is there even a ship tag for this lmao#jester x astrid#jestrid#thanks anon#niriart#my art
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(5,024 words, rated M: polyamorous fjordwulf/jastrid/fjorjester + queerplatonic cadwulf & background shadowgast)
Former Cadwulfs, newly minted Fjordwulfs, any Jastrids who exist out there besides myself, and anyone who likes complicated relationships: have I got the fic for you!
Eadwulf still followed Caduceus with hangdog eyes, so obvious that even Fjord picked up on it. Jester watched Eadwulf forlornly stare after Caduceus’s retreating form while helping rebuild a smaller storage shed that had burnt down in the fight. Fjord was helping him, holding up a piece of wood and snapping his fingers to pull Eadwulf out of it. They made faces at each other, and then Wulf’s sharp gaze transferred to watch Fjord instead.
“That one is...how do you say it? Hungry?” Essek commented from behind her, where he’d been gardening.
“Oh so close, Essek, it’s THIRSTY,” Jester corrected joyfully. “You’re starting to talk like one of us, too!”
#critical role#cr fics#fjordwulf#fjorjester#jester lavorre#cr fjord#jestrid#jastrid#cadwulf#fjordjester#jester x astrid#c2e141#cr spoilers#my fics#astrid beck#eadwulf grieve#eodwulf grieve#cr astrid#cr eodwulf#caduceus clay#this is so niche it will probably appeal to like four people#but I hope those four people find it and enjoy it!#I certainly loved writing it#episode posts
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Let’s take a step off the cadwulf train for two seconds to acknowledge Astrids feelings for jester and also the other lesbians in this show becuase even tho all I talk about is cadwulf and shadowgast, the lesbians deserve all the same levels of love. Fuck yeah beauyasha, fuck yeah beaujester, fuck yea jester/Astrid, fuck yeah Keg, fuck yea wlw. Amazing. Beautiful.
#critical role#mighty nien#lesbian#beaujester#beauyasha#beauyashter#keg critical role#wlw post#jester lavorre#jester x Astrid
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inb4 the stream of 110 tonight josses the heck out of this lol.
summary:
During the dinner at Trent Ikithon's manor, Jester and Astrid manage to have a private conversation.
Gods, where did Caleb go?
Jester exhales a frustrated huff as she opens her third set of doors and finds a balcony with no thin, slumped wizard in a long purple coat. The manor isn't huge, but she should've known Caleb would disappear in its halls much more skillfully than someone like her could find him. He's actually been here before, after all. For a moment, she mourns her lack of foresight this morning. That Locate Object spell would solve her dilemma lickity-split.
The sound of soft footsteps behind her sends Jester spinning on a heel to look—hopefully it's Caleb—
Her nose wrinkles. It's not.
Astrid comes to a stop a couple paces in front of her, looking all handsome in her dark suit and sleek, short haircut.
Caleb gave her a look when they first arrived, and the forlorn longing in it made her teeth grind. That she returned a similar expression for the briefest second, until she wiped it clean with a polite nod as Trent Ikithon appeared from behind her... The grinding intensified.
Now, Jester smiles at Astrid and does her best to make it just a shade too sharp. "Hi there."
"Miss Lavorre," Astrid replies, unfazed and ugh, no wonder Caleb loves her. This entire night she's been nothing but graceful, despite the sly glint in her eyes so familiar that Jester thought she'd break the oops-stone in her pocket from gripping it so hard. Astrid could probably talk circles around her dad.
In her irritation, Jester almost misses the rest of what she says. "I am sorry for the intrusion, but for your benefit, you should not wander too much."
"Mr. Ikithon sent you to make sure I don't see anything bad?" she asks nastily.
"I took it upon myself."
"Gee, thanks."
Astrid smiles then, crooked so it's as piercing as glass at one corner, and Jester almost has whiplash from how violently it reminds her of Caleb. "Bren will be fine, you know. He's dealt with far worse."
Trent Icky-thong's insidious little smirk resurfaces in her mind—along with his words, not five minutes ago—
The bile in her throat burns. "Caleb."
Astrid's gaze seems to settle in order to eye her, and Jester raises her chin a fraction.
"Caleb," the woman finally acknowledges.
The tiniest victory sings bitterly in Jester's gut as she swings the set of doors open again. "I seriously need some fresh air."
She expects Astrid to follow her out onto the balcony, but it surprises her when she braces her arms against the railing to best let the cool summer night ruffle her hair and the other woman echoes the posture right next to her.
Resolutely, Jester stares forward. "Is he watching us right now?"
There's a very satisfying second of Astrid taken aback before she barks a laugh. "No. He is a poor host at the best of times, as I'm sure you have observed. To scry simultaneously is a challenge he cannot succeed at. Besides—"
She reaches within the collar of her shirt and pulls out an amulet. The familiar metal design glints in the torchlight.
"Oh, right. I forgot you had those."
(read the rest on ao3)
#cr#cr2#critical role#jester lavorre#cr astrid#caleb widogast#widojest#i can't believe there's no relationship tag for astrid & caleb you guys come on#readmore#link#prim post#prim writes#post 110 edit: now that some tags of relevance have surfaced i shall add them#because. i wrote this before 110 and now i want it to feed the flames muahuaha#jestrid#jester x astrid#astrid x jester
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Jester&Caleb + Sending messages to Astrid
“It’s me, Jester. Hey. I don’t know if you’re alone, if you’re not and you’re following us...clear your throat. If you’re not following us...”
“Caleb’s like...” *mumbles and crosses his fingers*
Bonus:
#widojest#cr spoilers#caleb x jester#critical role#lauras pics#otp: you were a kindness when i was a stranger#//you ever think about how that second row was basically astrid listening in to one side of jester and caleb bickering like an old married c#ouple
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the day before your wedding, i said my own vows Rating: T Pairing: Widojest (Caleb Widogast x Jester Lavorre) Tags: College!AU / Modern!AU Summary: Jester Lavorre has one small, insignificant, tiny-teensy problem – You see - she’s in love with her best friend… And he’s getting married tomorrow.
#widojest#caleb widogast x jester lavorre#cr fic#critical role fic#widojest fic#college au#modern au - kind of ?#magic still exsists#featuring Astrid love that bitch#someday i will write something that doesnt include YEARNING but that day is not today
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Widojest meet cute, but they're teenagers.
Caleb tightened the strap of his guitar case and glanced around furtively. No one was looking--everyone was busy setting out their lunches on the grass, or pulling out frisbees and volleyballs for a game before lunchtime.
Unwillingly, his gaze slid across Astrid, who was lying on Avantika's lap, her dark hair fanning out on Avantika's leather-clad legs.
It's been years, he berated himself, it's been years, you should be over it--
But he wasn't, and he couldn't, and--
He just needed to get away for a while. He shouldered his guitar case and headed for a secluded spot on campus.
Wildemount High was a huge, sprawling mess of a school, with many nooks and crannies and forgotten gardens. Long ago, Caleb had discovered a small clearing with a fallen tree trunk, which served perfectly as a seat.
Funnily enough, this clearing also contained wild catnip, which meant the cats of Wildemount High congregated there.
"Good afternoon, Frumpkin," he greeted one of the cats, who looked at him imperiously from atop the tree trunk. "Would you excuse me--yes, I would like to sit. Thank you."
He settled on the tree trunk, pulled out his guitar, and idly began to strum.
It's supposed to hurt, it's a broken heart...but the moving on is the hardest part...
He closed his eyes, letting his fingers play across the strings. Frumpkin slunk to his side and pressed his little warm body against Caleb's own.
Caleb let muscle memory take over as he sang quietly, strummed softly--
What if I'm trying, but then I close my eyes and then I'm right back, lost in that last goodbye? And what if time doesn't do what it's supposed to do? What if I never get over you?
What if I never get over? What if I never get closure? What if I never get back all the wasted words I told you?
And then all of a sudden, another voice joined in.
What if it never gets better? What if this lasts forever, and ever, and ever, I--
Caleb's eyes flew open in shock.
A petite blue-haired girl stood at the entrance of the clearing, arms wrapped around herself. Her eyes locked on him and she tilted her head, as if telling him, Keep going.
His fingers fumbled the next chord, but then he found himself again, and the chorus came out of his lips taut and tight. The blue-haired girl was still looking at him, and she harmonized perfectly--
What if I gave it everything I've got? Caleb asked her.
What if your love was my one and only shot? she sang back.
And then together, her voice soaring far above his:
What if I end up with nothing to compare it to?
What if I never get over you?
Her last note held, high and sweet, and then died away as he strummed the last chord.
A silence fell over the clearing.
She raised a hand and waved.
He looked at her dumbly, then remembered his manners. "Hi." He cleared his throat. "Uh. I'm. Caleb."
She looked at him and smiled, a wan small thing, but sincere. "Hi. I'm Jester."
**
Song referenced: What If I Never Get Over You by Lady Antebellum
#this is NOT a meet cute this is a meet ANGST#i'm SORRY AHAHHAHA#widojest#caleb widogast#jester lavorre#astrid#astrid x caleb#astrid x avantika#captain avantika#ask fic#asks#julia at 300
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