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ciceroandlucien · 2 years

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One of Cicero’s arms hung off the side of the bed and the other lay at his side. His mouth hung open loosely and his chest rose and fell with each breath.

“Sweet little fool,” Vex sighed, shaking her head. She pulled her armor back on and sat in a chair, trying to decide whether to wake Cicero or not. The room smelled of alcohol and sweat. Finally she got up and moved to the bed. She put a hand on Cicero’s bare shoulder.

“Wake up, you. It’s morning.”

Cicero stirred and rolled onto his back. He stretched and yawned, scrunching his eyes shut as his muscular arms reached above his head. When they hit the bedposts, he opened his eyes and immediately smiled at Vex, catching her staring.

“Oh hello, hello!” He greeted her. “Good morning to you.”

“You’re in a chipper mood,” she observed.

“Cicero had a lovely evening. Did Vex not?”

Vex smiled now but shook her head. “You don’t remember, do you? You silly clown,” she joked. “Delvin came back to the Flagon last night and you socked him good. He’s lucky you were too inebriated to find your dagger. I think you’d have gutted him.” She couldn’t stop smiling as she spoke and she burst into laughter recalling the night’s events.

“I did what?!” Cicero’s eyes opened wide now and he sat up. “Oh no,” he began looking around, as if the room held his memory of the night before.

“Oh, it’s okay,” Vex reassured him. “Delvin had it coming. He goaded you into it. No harm done, except maybe to his pride. But I think he’ll recover just fine.”

Cicero shook his head, still in disbelief. “That’s-That’s very unusual for Cicero,” he started. “I don’t usually drink to excess.”

“You don’t say,” Vex replied, amused. She put a hand on his shoulder again. “Well don’t worry, you were a perfect gentleman. You didn’t even stand up until he started talking about the Night Mother.”

Cicero’s eyes grew wide again and he looked at Vex. “Wh-what did he say about her?”

“I don’t even remember, I just know you were having none of it. He came in all upset because I won’t give him the time of day but I was having a few drinks with you. I told him to get lost but then he honed in on you and started talking rot. I appreciate you letting me handle my own shit, though.”

Cicero fell back onto the bed and put an arm over his face. “Ohh….” he groaned. “Cicero is sorry, Vex.”

“Hey, if it bothered me, I wouldn’t be here now, would I?”

For the first time, Cicero seemed to take in the full scene of the room. Vex looked put together, but looking hard enough, he could see the strays hairs out of place and the loosened buckles of her armor.

“Did we…” he began to ask Vex.

“We snuggled,” Vex smiled bashfully. Her pale skin flushed red and she turned away. “I didn’t want to take advantage of you in your state. But you did pull me into bed so I stayed. You’re sweet.”

“Oh goodness,” Cicero sighed, relieved. “Thank you, Vex. Things are very…displaced right now.”

“I get it, you let me in on a little of what’s going on with you last night. I’m fine to let things remain as they were. But you should know that I enjoyed spending time with you. Last night was really fun. And I don’t often get to let my guard down. So if you ever want to do it again sometime, you know where to find me.”

Vex reached for Cicero’s hand and squeezed his palm. He watched as she exited the room and shut the door behind her. Then his brain flooded with every possible thought. He had punched Delvin! He had also apparently pulled Vex into bed with him, but just to end up snuggling. He racked his brain for what he might have said to her about what was ‘going on with him’. The best he could figure is that he told her about visiting Mjari, but was there more? He rolled over and buried his face in the pillow, cursing himself for getting so drunk.

He lay there for a few more minutes before deciding to get up and head back to the sanctuary. The room had gotten a little messier with two in there; empty bottles on shelves and his motley and robes on the floor in a heap. He sheepishly pulled the motley back on and examined his hand before replacing his gloves. A slight abrasion on his knuckles. He was curious to see Delvin but wasn’t going to push his luck to do so. He retrieved his hat from where it had fallen behind the bed and pulled his boots on. He picked up his knapsack and carefully opened the door, peering out into the Flagon before exiting. No sign of Delvin and Vex was absent as well. He slipped out and walked into the Cistern.

Niruin was practicing archery on the dummies again and when he saw Cicero passing through he gave him a warm and knowing smile. Cicero grinned politely and looked around. Nearly every member of the guild save for Vipir nodded at him. He began to smile genuinely. Perhaps they’d all had some beef with Delvin at some point, too.

When he reached the ladder to the secret entrance, he saw feet coming down and stepped back to allow whoever was coming to come in first. When the feet landed on the ground, Cicero followed the legs up and came face to face with Delvin, a nasty purplish-red print across his cheek with distinctive knuckle marks on the cheekbone.

“Cicero,” Delvin said flatly and then continued into the Cistern. Cicero bit his cheek to keep from smiling. He really had gotten him good. Well-deserved, though.

He climbed out of the Cistern and into the cemetery and made his way to the gates, practically skipping the whole way there. He wished Arynelle held Vex in higher esteem so he could share his glorious trip with her. He decided he’d do so anyway.

#iluvcicero #cicero #skyrim #dark brotherhood #thieves guild #vex #ragged flagon #Niruin

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 5 months

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the shed

lilac, chapter ten

a/n: the drama is here, folks. it has arrived. welcome.

summary: “he’s here,” you shuttered, your words barely above a whisper.

warnings: lumberjack!frank castle x reader, lumberjack AU, past domestic violence, crazy ex trope, kinda mob!ex-boyfriend vibes, angst, crying, violence

word count: 2358

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“Hey, Otto,” you smiled warmly as the small town’s sheriff untangled his scarf from around his neck and marched up to where you were wiping a small table down with a damp cloth, “Donna should be here soon if you wanna sit with her during lunch.”

“Oh, I’d love to,” the seasoned man sighed longingly, “but unfortunately the stack of paperwork I left at my desk won’t allow me to hear the latest gossip. She’ll just have to fill me in tomorrow.”

“So, to go then?” the rag in your grasp finished up its cleanly dance across the smooth woodgrain.

“Yeah,” he nodded, thinking out loud as he glanced down to stuff as much of the scarf into his left pocket as it could bear, “right now I’m thinking a sandwich, unless, what’s your special today?”

“Uh, it’s a dahl,” you informed him, carefully folding up the wipe as you stepped closer towards the kitchen door, the sheriff shadowing the short journey, “got lots of spinach and stuff in it.”

“Oh, it’s dahl day? Well, then forget about the sandwich, I’ll have some of that with rice, just rice, and maybe if you could also fill up my thermos with some fresh coffee, that would be great,” he opened up his coat and conjured the nifty decanter from a roomy inner pocket.

“You got,” you uttered before he handed the flagon off to you and your feet carried you the rest of the way into the kitchen, “hey, dad?” you gently patted his shoulder as you walked past his stance by the stove to get to the coffee maker.

“Yeah, sweetie?” he halted his stirring and tapped the turmeric-stained spoon on the edge of one of the simmering pots before resting it back down on a little plate to the side.

Unscrewing the top off of the pastel yellow thermos, you gingerly streamed in some of the requested brew, “can you pack up a portion of dahl with rice for Otto?”

“Yep, yep,” he fished out a spatula from one of the jugs on the counter that simply overflowed with various utensils, “tell him it’ll be one second.”

Entering the dining space once more, you handed off the filled thermos to sheriff Nilsen, “here,” who now sat on one of the chairs, “he says it’ll just be a moment.”

“Thanks, kid,” he flashed you a warm smile just before you turned on your heel, “you have a great rest of your day, yeah?”

“You too!” you glanced back over your shoulder with a small wave.

As you strode towards the lobby and the thick stack of mail you still hadn’t sorted through, a voice began to catch your ear.

“Fiancé?” old lady Edith’s shrill tone cut through from around the corner, “well, I had absolutely no idea she was engaged,” as you entered the lobby from behind the front desk, your gaze seized to take in the individual the elder was conversing with as your fingers were too busy scooping up the stack of letters, “and to a fella as handsome as you? Well, isn’t she lucky.”

“Well, she just likes to be modest. One of the many qualities I adore about her.”

Your body instantly froze as the man’s low timbre filled the inn. The shuffling of mail halted as terror shot down your spine.

Slowly raising your panicked eyes, they only seized to grow wider as they glazed over the back-turned individual standing opposite Edith. Shifting his stance, he uncrossed his arms and lowered them to his sides, the crisply up-twisted black button-down sleeves framed in and nearly made it impossible for you not to take in the sight of the recognisable ink that slithered out from under the hem, curled around the honied skin of his forearm and ended right on the back of his ring adorned hand.

As the letters fell from your grip and casketed over the desk and onto the floor like a fallen jenga tower, the dull commotion managed to catch the pair’s attention as Edith’s hooded eyes trained upon your frozen frame and to your horror, the very reason for you being back here in the first place, turned around as well to spot you.

“Oh,” a chillingly perfect smile spread across Preston’s lips, “hey, doll,” his tone ever casual as if he’d just talked to you two minutes ago, “there you are.”

With your heart nearly bursting out of your chest, you didn’t even register that your feet had begun to move before you reached the backdoor out through the sunroom.

Ripping it open, you sprinted out and over the porch, your speed only increasing as the dewy grass stained your shoes.

Your eyes were wild, raking across the terrain, franticly attempting to come up with a plan as you went, but swiftly they locked upon where the thick forest began to bloom just beyond the patchy field that stretched between it and the inn’s garden.

But as you glanced back over your shoulder, the panicked plan of escape withered and died as you spotted your ex marching through the sunroom, his visage clear through the latticed glass of the door.

Whipping your head around, you spotted the small decrepit tool shed just a few paces to your left. Rushing to the rickety structure, you sucked in a sharp breath as your desperate push to one of the tattered double doors caused the faintest of clangs to reverberate from the rusty dinner bell that decorated the outside as an echo of the past.

Gingerly shutting the door after you slipped inside, careful as to not evoke any more alarms and ruin your hiding spot, the lack of a lock on the simple doors had completely slipped your memory as your blurry vision stared down at the rudimentary pull handles and nothing else.

Hyperventilating and nearly feeling like you’d faint, you instead pulled over a dust-covered table and pushed it up against the exit, a few screws rattling and rolling off it as it settled in its new place.

Eyes transfixed on the doors, your feet began to back up, not halting till the rough wood of the far side wall stopped you. Reaching into your pocket, you blindly fished out your phone and dialled up the only number you could think of.

“Hey, I was just about to call you,” Frank’s contrasting tone flowed out from the receiver, “thought I’d maybe swing by when I'm done here in town–…” although his genuine words abruptly ceased as a shuttering cry trembled from your lips, “…Y/n? What’s wrong?”

Your body shook so fiercely that keeping a hold of your phone proved to be a daunting task.

“F-Frank,” you sobbed.

“What, what is it?”

“…he’s here. He’s here,” you uttered shakily through your tears, “I walked into the lobby and there he was, I–, fuck…” you squeezed your eyes shut a moment, “Frank, what do I do?”

“Alright, listen to me,” his tone changed in an instant, “did he see you?”

“Y-yes,” you tried your best to keep your voice hushed.

“Where are you?”

“I hid in the old shed out back, but, shit, I'm not sure if–”

Your fear then came to fruition as the doors suddenly rustled, bumping against the makeshift blockade before the attempt was dropped and a low knock instead found your ears.

“He’s here,” you shuttered, your words barely above a whisper.

“Doll?” Preston’s voice seeped through the rotten wood, “I know that you’re in there,” he tried to shove the doors open once more, the whole world seeming to quake at his attempt.

Eyes darting around the dim space, you spotted a small broken window to your left. Raising up your elbow, all of the adrenaline that pumped throughout your veins didn’t even let you register the pain as you slammed it against the remaining bits of jagged glass that were stuck to the window, as well as when the remaining short shards stabbed your palms and scratched up the screen of your phone as you desperately began to crawl out.

“Come on, just open up the door, I don’t have time for any childish games.”

The sudden sound of the door crashing open and the table scraping across the floor shot straight into your bones.

Already halfway out, your knee bent up to hoist the remaining half of your shaky form out of the narrow opening, but just as you twisted to do so, a bruising grip grabbed hold of the leg and tugged you back inside, sending you crashing down upon the concrete floor.

Motes of dust seemed suspended in the air as you coughed on the cold ground. Steadying yourself with your bloodied palms, your hazy vision found your phone by your side, shattered and completely dark.

Seizing the crown of your locks, he yanked you back up to your feet.

“Now why would you do something like that, huh?” he uttered in such a mundane tone that you’d almost rather have him yell. Dragging you with him towards the doors and still hung agape on the rusty hinges, he grabbed a petite shovel that rested on the messy table and jammed the wooden shaft through the loops of the two handles. Gliding his dominant hand up your frame as he backed you up, the long fingers swiftly enveloped your throat as your back slammed against a wall, “I just wanna have a little conversation with you,” like splintery sandpaper, the rough wood scraped against your spine, and your eyes squeezed shut, “uh uh,” the stinging grip he had on your hair loosened, drifting his knuckles down your cheek in a cruel caress as he demanded, “look at me when I’m talking to you,” your whole frame jerked as you felt him land a harsh slap across your cheek, “show me those pretty eyes,” and your bloodshot glare blinked open, “there,” he wiped the tears that trickled down your face, “that wasn’t so hard, was it?” your gaze flickered down to the ominous ink that glazed the appendage clasped around your airway. The head of the snake that decorated the back of his palm nearly looked like it was about to come alive and bite into your jugular vein, “you know, if you wanted to go on a little trip back home, all you had to do was say so, we could have figured something out.”

Soon, your hands fluttered up to warily drift on either side of his, a shift that caused his jaw to clench.

“Doll,” he glared down at your lacking jewel, “where’s your ring? Did you misplace it again? If you keep doing that, then I’m just gonna think you don’t like it,” his head tilted to the side in an almost sombre manner, “what, was the diamond not big enough? If you want something more showy, you know all you have to do is ask, money’s just money. Maybe a sapphire? You could look like Princess Diana. Hell, if you want the real thing, I know a guy,” his face slowly inched closer to yours, “I would do anything for you, you know that right?” he proclaimed with an eerie smile upon his lips, “anything, that’s how much I love you. Even if you can’t always wrap your simple little head around the reasoning in the moment,” his free fingers moved to brush some of your dishevelled hair into place, “it’s always because I love you.”

“Preston, please,” your voice was low as you gasped, fretful fingers lightly tapping against his unyielding grip, “you’re hurting me.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he warned softly, rage crackling in his fiery gaze, “you don’t do that,” ignoring your struggling, he went back to wistfully fixing your hair, “you just stand there, like the pretty doll you are and be perfect for me.”

“C-can’t breathe–”

“Oh, you can’t?” his brows furrowed mockingly, “is this better?” he asked as his ring-adorned fingers tightened around your throat and squeezed so taut that no air could reach your lungs, “you are mine,” he pressed his lips to your cheek as your eyes fluttered and your limbs fought against the inevitable fate of shortly passing out, “you will always be fucking mine.”

But just as the world began to slip out from under you, a loud crash found your ears. Forcing your eyes to open, you witnessed as the door got kicked in, the improvised lock shattering into shards from the blow and scattering across the dirty ground.

Glaring over his shoulder, Preston exclaimed, “who the fuck are you?”

Only looming in the doorway for a fragment of a second, Frank didn’t give him the satisfaction of an answer as he rushed to rip Preston off of you.

As you crumbled to the ground, painful coughs escaped your frame. The shed still felt like it spun beneath you as your hazy gaze fluttered up to see Frank pin Preston against the wall. As if you were underwater, their voices seemed miles away as you watched Frank’s callused fist repeatedly collide with the side of your ex’s face.

This wasn’t how you wanted it to happen. Every thunderous crack prompted a dreadful pit to dig itself within your gut. You weren’t doubting that Preston didn’t deserve this, but you had also come to learn a fragment of the truth of just how few of those punches it took for Frank to have an individual no longer breathing.

Frantically casting your gaze everywhere and anywhere, past the garden, out in the driveway, the faint sight of the sheriff, lunch in hand, tossing his scarf around his neck and strolling back to his car, found your fuzzy vision.

Stumbling, you crawled out the door and weakly pulled yourself up enough to reach the short rope that hung from the old bell, the looming unconsciousness steadily catching up to you as you strained to do so.

Ringing the bell once, twice, and on the third time, just as you saw Otto whip his head around in your direction, your vision finally faded to complete darkness as you crumbled to the ground.

#lea’s writing #lilac series #lumberjack!frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle imagine #frank castle series #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle angst #frank castle hurt/comfort #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle fic #the punisher fic #frank castle fanfiction #the punisher x reader #lumberjack au

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