I was binging your fics again, I sometimes do, they're just too good.
I was wondering if there's any other character you'd like to write for? Maybe Nazir, I love him
Have you played modded Skyrim? You write gentle and soft men so well that I'd loooove to see your version of Kaidan
a/n: farmer my dear friend, i am sending all the good vibes out to you for this ask🙇 i'm sorry it took me so long to get to it, i love love love nazir as well but the original fic i wrote up was NOT it so i had to start over lol. thank you so very much for your patience and support <3
and to answer your other question, i have dabbled in some of the custom followers! most of it was gore and lucien, however ☝️ i did have kaidan for a while and was enjoying him before that save file was corrupt and lost T_T i would love to redownload the mod and actually play it to completion bc he was such a sweetheart with a compelling story. once i do i can definitely write something up for him!
anyway 🗣️ new husband unlocked, nazir has entered the chat! 🗣️ i hope you all enjoy!!!
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jasminger tea | nazir x reader
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It’s been nearly a week now and the Dawnstar sanctuary still does not feel like home.
The stone halls you walk through right now are quiet, too damn quiet. And not just because it’s the middle of the night - they’re always too quiet. Aside from the occasional patter of footsteps or hushed voices, you hardly hear anything anymore. No more of Festus’s cranky mutterings followed by Veezara’s teasing laughter, no more of Arnbjorn’s axe hitting the practice dummy, no more of Gabriella’s gentle cooing at Lis the frostbite spider.
And it’s cold, so damn cold. It’s a constant reminder of the snowy tundra outside, especially when you hear the whistle of the brutal winds of the sea. So different from the warmer, almost humid temperature of the old Sanctuary in Falkreath.
Everything feels so … rigid. Stiff. Even with all the furnishings going in place thanks to Delvin’s help. But no amount of decorations and upgrades to the place makes it feel any closer to a home.
The only thing keeping you grounded to the place is your fellow survivors. Babette, who has been gathering ingredients and supplies to put together her meager alchemy station. Cicero, whose chittering laughter still somehow puts a smile on your face. And Nazir, whose been scraping up whatever contracts he can to have them at the ready - for when you’re ready.
But as you trudge your way to the dining area, not even knowing what you’re looking for, except an excuse to get out of your quarters, you know you aren’t ready. The grief for your lost colleagues and destroyed home still sits heavy in your body. You can’t imagine going out and doing any jobs.
You reach the dining room and you’re surprised to see someone already there. Nazir is at the cooking station, his back turned as he stirs at something in the pot. There’s a small fire crackling beneath it, the tempting warmth of it practically calling your name.
You approach silently, but of course, there’s no sneaking up to another assassin. Nazir turns his head to acknowledge you before turning back to his task.
“Did the smell draw you out, or what?” He asks.
You pause at the dining table, briefly eyeing one of the old chairs there. But you settle on walking farther ahead, until you reach one of the wooden storage crates along the wall. You hop up to take a seat on it and let your legs dangle over the side.
“I haven’t caught a whiff of it yet,” you reply. “But thanks for the warning.”
You see him crack a smile. The details of his face are well lit by the fire in front of him, flames reflected in those rich brown eyes.
“What is it? Soup?” You guess.
Nazir shakes his head as he reaches for something next to him. He tosses in what looks like a handful of leaves to the pot and goes back to stirring.
“Tea, actually,” he answers. And on that timing, you finally pick up on the scent wafting towards you. Something herbal and delicate, and it somehow already soothes your tense form. The steam coming off of it dances in the air as Nazir gives it another stir.
“Huh. I did not take you for a ‘tea’ drinker.”
“Only on rare occasions.”
You gaze at him with curiosity. “So.. what’s the occasion today?”
There’s a small pause, in which you hear him take out the ladle and tap it on the rim of the pot. He goes back to stirring before speaking again.
“Hitting my third sleepless night in a row.” He reaches over to grab one of the tankards stored on a shelf right next to you, then moves back and begins to pour some of the tea into it. “Let’s see if this jasminger tea will knock me out soon.”
You can only stare at him, left momentarily speechless. You knew you weren’t the only one struggling with the aftermath of what’s happened, but you didn’t realize anyone was that… affected, by it. Especially Nazir, who has seemed the most stable out of everyone. Knowing that he shares one of your problems makes something ache within you.
“If it doesn’t, you might end up as insane as Cicero,” you murmur, hoping a joke will lighten the heaviness that’s just shifted in the air.
To your relief, Nazir huffs out a little chuckle. “If it comes to that, I trust that you’ll put me down like a dog, Listener.” He finishes filling the tankard in his hand.
“You mind if I serve myself some of that?” You ask. You lean forward on the box and prepare to jump off of it. But then Nazir holds the tankard out to you, and you stop, looking up at him.
“Don’t think I can’t hear you pacing around this place throughout the night, too,” he accuses. Except there’s nothing accusatory about his tone, or that arch to his brow, or that ghost of a smile on his face. More like a friendly recognition. “You need it as much as I do.”
Now that you’re finally seeing him up close, you see the signs of the same tiredness you feel, the sunken skin and dark circles forming beneath his eyes. Even so, he still looks… composed, sharp… handsome. It’s almost annoying, that he can still look so good, while your appearance is probably closer to that of a corpse.
You go to accept the tankard with a curt nod. “Can’t argue with that. Thank you.”
There’s a brief second where your fingers brush his as they meet in the handle of the tankard. At first, you’re surprised by the stark roughness of his skin, until he pulls his hand back and you catch a glimpse of the burn marks there. Burn marks from the fire that you barely escaped together. Your heart twists in your chest.
As he prepares his own serving, you lift the tankard to your lips. You pause to breathe in the scent of it before taking a sip. The temperature is just short of burning your tongue, but you’re too pleased by the taste to care. A gentle combination of herbal and floral, with an even gentler hint of something sweet like honey. One sip alone is enough to calm a portion of your nerves, but you immediately go for another, closing your eyes to really savor the sensation of it.
“How is it?” Nazir asks, sounding amused by your reaction. “Better than Babette’s anecdotes, I hope.”
You smile around the rim of the cup. “Mhm. Much better.” You take a drink before pulling the tankard back, tipping it appreciatively towards Nazir. “Another impressive recipe.”
“I know, I know. I have a gift.” He tips his own tankard towards you. “Cheers.”
There’s a soft clink as the tankards tap together, followed by a comfortable silence as you drink. The tea feels like it’s trickling into your bloodstream, seeping its way into your system. For the first time in days, you begin to feel a hint of comfort, a peace that you’ve missed dearly.
Nazir leans against one of the boxes next to you and you can’t help but take another glance at him. You can tell he’s found the time to groom his facial hair recently, his beard looking less scraggly than the last time you saw him. The lines where it meets his skin are clean and smooth, his Redguard hood pulled back just enough to give you a good view of it.
“So,” he pipes up, and you dart your gaze away before he can realize you’ve been staring. “Master bedroom treating you alright?”
You shrug, staring into your mug. “I suppose.”
“You ‘suppose’?” Nazir echoes. “What, is all that open space not enough for you?”
You roll your eyes and cast him a smile. “That’s not it. It is a really nice space. It’s just..” You hesitate, chewing on the words to use for a second. “I don’t know. Too much space? It feels almost… lonely.”
He looks back at you, his eyebrows lifting a bit. Your cheeks warm with a sudden bout of shyness, and you avert your gaze as you continue in an almost nervous rambling.
“Our old quarters were just so small,” you explain. “Nearly all of us in the same room. Of course, it was a little cramped and noisy at times, but… I liked that closeness.”
Reminiscing on that makes your stomach wrench. The aggressive snoring from Festus, the whispery story-swapping with Veezara, the sharp shushing from Gabriella when you got too loud. It was rare for enough of you to be gathered there, but when you were, it did feel like home.
A room that’s too large and too empty doesn’t feel like home.
“I know.” The understanding in Nazir’s response soothes you almost as much as the tea does. “I miss them, too.”
You lift your tankard and take a longer drink. You don’t even care that it’s still a little too hot, you swallow it down around the lump forming in your throat.
“And we’ll feel the loss of them for a while longer. But you can’t quit, Listener.” His voice hardens, not harsh but just stern enough that you feel obligated to look up at him. Meeting his gaze makes your heartbeat stammer but you hold eye contact as he goes on, “We’ve got a Brotherhood to run here, and I’m not doing it without you.”
“And you won’t,” you assure him with a light bump of your shoulder against his. “But I’m sorry. I know, I’ve been … distant.”
“‘Distant’.” Nazir’s chuckle rolls over you like a warm breeze. “That’s one way of putting it.”
“Well, I’m still here, aren’t I?” You give him a crooked smile.
He stares back at you, mirroring your smile with one of his own. “You are, and I am glad for it.”
He’s never been one to give out compliments lightly, and you were always left questioning the sincerity of them. But this time there’s no tease to his tone, no mocking glint to his eyes. Just an earnestness that wraps around you with a gentle embrace.
“But you still should get your shit together soon,” Nazir says bluntly. “I’ve got some easy jobs lined up, when you’re ready for them.”
If he had asked you that when he first came in, you would have said no- and a solid no at that. But something is… different now. Perhaps it’s the tea, soothing you with every sip, or the warmth of being in this cozy area of the dining room, or the presence of a friend who you can at least share some of your misery with. Maybe it’s a little bit of all of it. Whatever it is, it provides you with enough hesitation to stop and think, to realize that you’ve spent enough time wallowing.
You answer after another drink of tea, fast approaching the last of it. “Alright,” you sigh afterwards.
“That’s what I like to hear.” Nazir clasps a hand on your shoulder with surprising firmness. He downs the rest of his tankard, then leans off of the box. "I'll run the contracts by you in the morning.”
You watch him start to move away with a slight sinking to your gut. “Why not now?” You ask.
“Because we need to sleep.” He gestures towards the pot on the cooking station. “Help yourself if you need more, but not too much. I’d be rather irritated if you never woke again.”
A small smile graces your face. As delicious as the tea is, you can already feel the one serving doing its part, exhaustion finally creeping its way to the surface. “Thanks, but this should be enough.” You pause to heave out another sigh. “I’ll head back to bed soon.”
“Don’t sound so disappointed,” Nazir drawls. “If you’re that unhappy with your big, fancy bedroom, I’ll gladly switch you for mine.”
You shoot him a non-threatening glare. “Hey, I already said-”
“I know, I know,” he interrupts with a laugh and a wave of his hand. “Nice space, just too much of it.”
“Right.” You pause to take another swig of tea. You savor the last traces of gentle jasmine and ginger on your tongue for a moment before continuing to speak. “Maybe it wouldn’t feel like so much space if there was someone-”
You stop abruptly, but you know it’s too late. You can feel Nazir’s gaze back on you and it makes a light blush prickle underneath your skin. But you might as well come out with the rest of it.
“If there was someone else there.. you know?” You lift your tankard to your lips, if just to avoid looking at him. But there’s nothing more than a few drops left in the cup, even when you tip it all the way back. A small, sad noise dies in your throat.
“I do know.” Nazir’s reply sounds like it’s laced with a smile, and when you look up at him, you confirm it with a flicker to your heart. He offers his hand, and it takes you an embarrassingly long second to realize he’s waiting for your tankard. You hand it over and once again, your finger skims his. Except this time it feels… deliberate, almost. Like you’re both stretching them a little farther than necessary- just to make that contact.
You’re painfully aware of your heart picking up in speed as you watch him do mundane little things for a few moments - setting the lid on the tea pot, rinsing out the tankards with water, drying them with a rag. You know you could have left already, but something about this easygoing silence, and the comfort of his presence, tethers you to the spot.
“Well,” Nazir speaks up, and you notice him approaching with the tankards in hand. “If the tea doesn’t help you sleep, and sharing that oh-so-spacious room of yours will…”
He suddenly leans over, closer to you. He’s only stretching up to place the tankards back on their shelf, which just happens to be next to you- you know that. Yet your breath still stumbles, stopping altogether when you dare to look up at him and find his own eyes locking with yours.
“Say the word, and I’ll lend you some company,” he murmurs, voice lower than it was a second ago. And it’s only a second longer that you linger in that close space with one another, gazes holding with an intensity that makes your pulse skip.
Then he’s leaning away, and you finally give a shaky exhale. Your mind is still in a haze but he acts like nothing happened. He merely turns and waves a hand in the air again, as casual as ever.
“Good night, dear Listener,” he calls as he begins to cross the dining room.
You watch him go, barely managing a reply. “Good night, Nazir.”
You remain seated on the box for a little while longer, staring at the doorway he disappeared through, wondering if you should follow him and take him up on his offer- or maybe chug another serving of tea to ensure that you don’t.
