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argisthebulwark · 9 months

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Silly little personal hc I have that Brynjolf and tld are just down so horrendously for each other that until they finally, finally, finally confess their feelings they can not even be in the same area as the other. Brynjolf looses all ability to sneak as soon as tld is around. One minute he’s the best they’ve got, the next he is walking into everything and the loud ass sound of everything in the guild falling over and clattering to the floor is echoing throughout because he can not tear his eyes away from them. Likewise, tld is constantly having to be watched as if they are a small child because they can’t stop staring at Brynjolf and they have almost walked into the water 6 times and counting. Everyone thinks this is really fucking cute………………at first. But it doesn’t take long for everyone else in the guild, even the ones who have been there the longest, to want to leave forever. And what really doesn’t help anything is the fact that anytime any other guild member is like “Oh my god just tell them how you feel” both tld AND Bryn are like “No 😔 i can’t 😔 i don’t think they feel the same way 😔😢” These two are very quickly making the guild as a whole rethink the whole “no killing” rule feyufhhdeuuaefgbv

YESS god they'd be so cute but so annoying about it. i gotta put some under a cut because i talked too much as always.

Mercer wants to strangle Brynjolf. He's fairly certain he could get away with it. The rest of his thieves are too busy thinking it's sweet to notice the lack of productivity - his second in command can't even get through a conversation with the new recruit in the room. One moment they're discussing potential jobs and covering new clients, the next Brynjolf's stumbling over his words. Luckily Mercer's hands are swift enough to catch the inkpot before Brynjolf carelessly spilled it over weeks of planning. Fingers flexing over his dagger, Mercer watches the two idiots circle around each other. He wants to instruct Rune to stop ushering them away from the Cistern waters and let them fall in. If they can't tear their eyes away from Brynjolf long enough to walk they deserve a dip in the chilly water. Annoyance taints every interaction but they both seem blissfully unaware of Mercer's biting tone, too busy gazing at one another while he tries to hammer in the importance of their assignment.

Vex will never admit to finding them cute. Nothing good has happened in the Flagon in recent memory so watching the new recruit tiptoe around Brynjolf while he flounders trying to ask a simple question is entertaining. Her laugh comes out as a surprised snort when Brynjolf tries to make a smooth exit, knocking the wind out of his poor lungs when he walks straight into the bar. She's cautious when the recruit comes to her for an assignment, never placing her and Brynjolf in the same Hold. They'd be a disaster. The amusement quickly wears into exasperation. Vex tries to talk them into having a conversation with Brynjolf about their feelings to save them all from bodily harm. She's speechless when their newest member looks up at her with somber eyes, sighing drearily and assuring her that Brynjolf would never return their feelings. Vex bites her tongue, sure that silence is a better answer than sarcasm.

Vekel has worked among the band of thieves for ages and is glad for fresh blood. It's nice to see Brynjolf do something other than work. Feigning exhaustion he slides the recruit's drink to the redhead, insisting that Brynjolf should hand them the drink. A shattered glass and spilled ale is all he gets for his efforts, though it is sweet how the recruit worries over the cut on Brynjolf's hand. After months pass and they're still skirting around one another Vekel's ready to step in. It's clear as day to everyone else but they insist on dancing around it, taking turns moaning in the tavern about their unrequited love. He cannot stand all the pining and yearning over a love that is clearly requited.

Delvin felt something shift in their group when Brynjolf's bragging paid off and a new member bounded into the Flagon. He notices his old friend's hands shaking when he checks the cut on their forehead and listens dutifully to the tale of their journey through the Ratways. Sitting back in his chair he watches them gravitate toward each other, the unwitting way their bodies seem to shift closer. It would be sweet if the recruit hadn't tripped over half a dozen chairs on their way, the clattering sound of furniture still echoing around their tavern. "Just tell them." Delvin pleads for what feels like the thousandth time, head in his hands. He's given up all decorum and is practically begging Brynjolf to admit his feelings and save them all some time. "I can't," Brynjolf answers, the same as ever. "They don't feel the same, it wouldn't be right." "Dear gods," Delvin sighs and ponders contacting the Dark Brotherhood. He's never been too strict on the 'no killing' rule anyway.

Rune quickly finds friendship with Brynjolf's protege. It's fun listening to their stories of life before winding up in Riften and they're intrigued by his mysterious past. They open up to him about the feelings they're harboring for Brynjolf and Rune, the good friend he is, guards it as if the secret's not widely known. He walks protectively between them and the waters of the Cistern, aware that their attention is entirely on the way Brynjolf's back looks in his armor. "He's in love with you." He wants to shake the truth into them. Months of longing glances and sighs heavy with yearning have driven his kind soul to its limits. "Everyone knows. He can hardly speak when you're around." "He'd never feel that way about me." Rune watches them squirm and cannot fathom how such an otherwise intelligent person can be so blind. "We're friends but that's it. I don't want to push him." Brynjolf waves at them, a friendly gesture cut short by the clashing sound of him tripping over a rack of weapons. Rune watches his friend rush over and finds himself wishing to lock them in the broom closet until they confess their feelings.

The whole Guild excluding two lovebirds hatch a plan. They can stomach it no longer. Vex assures the recruit that it'll be an easy job - breaking into an empty house can't be too hard. Delvin sends Brynjolf after some made up artifact stashed away in the unused basement. Mercer makes vague threats about coming back empty handed. Their fellow thieves work best in the shadows, orchestrating a meeting that will hopefully solve all their problems at once.

Poor lovesick Brynjolf makes quick work of entering the unoccupied house. The lock puts up little resistance before he's melting into the shadows, stumbling when a familiar set of eyes meet his. He sees their smile and his heart skips, trying to appear calm as he steps closer. "What are you doing here?" They approach him and Brynjolf's tongue feels too thick, all words vanish from his mind. They stumble, flailing forward and he dives to catch them. Wood flooring smacks his knees when his recruit falls into him, limbs tangled together. Hearts racing they stare at each other, words lost in fear. Neither wanting to be the first to pull away they remain there, breath mingling until they can stand it no longer and kiss him. They kiss Brynjolf for all those lingering moments and unspoken desires, clumsy fingers running along their cheek after months of pining. "Seems we've been set up." Finally he doesn't stumble over his words, amazed at the sight of his protege's flushed cheek leaning into his touch. "Do you have feelings -" "Yes." He can't help but laugh at their eagerness, heart fluttering against his ribs. "Do you?" "'Course I do."

#asks #beloved mutuals #writing #brynjolf #skyrim #brynjolf x ldb

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therealnightcity · 9 months

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Nine Six Ship Songs

Tagged by @ghostoffuturespast-thank you so much! <3

Hiro:

Kintsugi (OT3): Hiro, Victory Delvin and Johnny Silverhand

Chasing Cars-Snow Patrol

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Forget what we're told Before we get too old Show me a garden that's bursting into life

Lots of longing and feelings that nobody realizes are reciprocated, and personal growth and figuring out how to heal and moving forward together.

Trouble Comes in Threes (OT3): Hiro, Ivarr, and Dagger

Beautiful is Boring-Bones UK

Do we make you sick? Do our imperfections make your blue breath run thick? Give me scars and stripes It does not please me to be easy on any of your eyes Any of your eyes

Grimy, sexy and a little harsh, unconventional, just like them. They're not trying to make the others into something they're not--just accepting as they are.

Tiger Lilies: Hiro and Ivarr:

Under your Skin-Aesthetic Perfection

Without thinking Take What I want My claws creeping down Where it's warm If I'm dreaming Is this wrong? I just can't wait to get under your skin

Where you're just a little addicted to the other person, finding your hands mutually reaching to message them, even as you're trying not to think about the other, under your skin and not going anywhere

Just Chooms: Hiro and Kit Salcedo:

Cheap Thrills-Sia

'Til I hit the dance floor, hit the dance floor I got all I need No, I ain't got cash, I ain't got cash But I got you, baby

Honorable mentions are Bamo and Muévelo--easy to dance to, and a good beat, something they might have listened to in the Coyote together, friendship blooming into something more, until it feels as natural as breathing

Ares:

Clockwork Heart: Ares/Ofelia

Devil's Backbone-The Civil Wars

Don't care if he's guilty, don't care if he's not He's good and he's bad and he's all that I've got Oh Lord, Oh Lord, I'm begging you please Don't take that sinner from me Oh don't take that sinner from me

Those two have the sort of love, where they don't care if the other has done bad things, nothing matters as long as they can be together, and nothing will get in their way, loving in spite of flaws

Avi:

The Devil You Know: Avi/Mr. Blue Eyes

Main Theme--LA Noire Soundtrack

(No vocals this time)

There's a vibe that fits, looking over the city at night, the cherry of a cigarette glowing, whiskey on the table, and reaching over to brush a hand across their cheek--something private and intimate

Tagging: @shinycorvidae, @dreamskug, @wraithsoutlaws, @a-pirate, @chevvy-yates, @afterdark-vp, @dustymagpie, @wanderingaldecaldo, @gloryride, @breezypunk, @jaymber, @humberg, and anyone else who sees it and wants to do it ❤️❤️

Victory Delvin belongs to @shinycorvidae, Ivarr belongs to @dreamskug, Kit belongs to @a-pirate, and Dagger belongs to @wraithsoutlaws 🥰

#tag game #cyberpunk ocs #oc: hiro oda #oc: ares tanner #oc: avi kaiba #ship: kintsugi #ship: just chooms #ship: trouble comes in threes #ship: the devil you know #ship: clockwork heart #johnny silverhand #mr. blue eyes #ofelia sirawian

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maysoulrose · 1 year

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The Thief and The Moon | Skyrim fanfic | chpt 7

a self indulgent Brynjolfxdragonborn fanfic

———————————Chapter 7————————————

“Hey, have you seen Allustria?” Brynjolf poked his head from behind a makeshift wall in the flagon. Just past the bar was a double bed, and this ‘wall’ was there to give it a little more privacy. Vekel looked up from his tankard he was wiping down.

“Yeah, she went out to do that job Mercer gave her. She’s been gone a couple hours, maybe.”

Brynjolf sighed. Not sure if he was bummed out or relieved. His little situation the night before made him too nervous to sleep across from her, so he passed out on this bed instead. He wanted to see her, to make sure things weren’t weird. Hoping she wasn’t able to figure out his… problem.

“Ah! Here she is.” Vekel nudged his shoulder in her direction. Brynjolf whipped around to look. His jaw dropped.

Her hair was wet, clinging to new armor. Her cleavage curved behind the straps, naked hips were visible from the exposed sides of the leather armor. Water droplets danced down the curves of her skin, making her glisten. Damn the Gods, she was more beautiful than he remembered.

“What do you think this is worth?” She handed the little bee statue to Delvin, who was sitting in his usual spot. He looked up from his work, and whistled.

“That’s quite the outfit ya got there.” He leaned back and drank her in from head to toe. “How about I take you to the back room, and you can show me how to take it off.” He winked.

“Ah-ah-ah~” Allustria dangled the golden bee in front of him. “First tell me what this is worth” slowly batting her white lashes at him. His eyes focused on the trinket.

“Well, well, I was lookin’ for this li’l beauty. Sure, I’ll buy it from ya.”

Allustria smiled and took his coin, content with the trade. She appreciated his constant flirting with her which would hopefully get Brynjolf wanting her even more. Was he the jealous type? Only time will tell.

She looked over at the beautiful man. He had a firm grip on the edge of the bar, his knuckles turning white. A promising sign. She smiled at him. Brynjolf straightened himself out when he saw her approaching. She stopped just inches from his chest and held out her hand, expectantly. A wave of confusion washed over him. She clears her throat.

“Payment for the GoldenGlow job.”

Brynjolf’s eyes light up

“Seriously?!” Without thinking, he scoops her up into a hug and twirls her around. She can’t help but laugh. He sets her down, “c’mon, we should get to Mercer.”

———————————————————

“Here’s what was in the elf’s safe.” Allustria hands over the documents to Mercer. He scans them over.

“So. The idiot sold GoldenGlow”

“What?” Brynjolf gasped. “What was he thinking? Maven will be furious.”

“Exactly. That’s why we need to figure out to whom he sold it to.” Mercer pinched the bridge of his nose. “The only hint we have is this little symbol.”

Brynjolf took a look at it. It was a little dagger with a black circle. He didn’t recognize it either.

“While I look into this, Maven has a job for us, and she asked for you specifically.” Mercer directed his attention to Allustria. “She said she’d be waiting at the Bee and Barb. Best not keep her waiting.” Mercer signaled the end of the conversation by sweeping his hand toward them, telling them to get lost. He bent over his desk once again and studied the papers.

“Alright Lass! Moving up in the ranks are we?” Brynjolf gave her a pleased grin, rubbing his hands together. They turned and began walking to the dining area.

“That seems sudden. Did she already get news about GoldenGlow?” They sit across from each other at the table.

“Nah, this must be about something else. You’ll be fine. If she wanted you dead, she’d be looking to the Dark Brotherhood, not asking to speak with you.”

Allustria pursed her lips, holding back a little knowing smile, and sipped some water out of her mug.

“I see.”

Seeing how they were chatting like old friends, Allustria decided that last night’s scandals weren’t going to make things awkward. That’s good. That also means that he’s oblivious to what she heard. She blushed a little at the thought and hid her cheeks behind her mug. The table was covered in cooked fish, breads, honey nut treats, and assorted drinks. They ate together while Allustria filled him in on the details of her lone raid of the Estate. She avoided telling him about the one casualty.

Meanwhile, she tried to think of ways to get the man riled up. She wanted to play with him. Get him flustered. The only thing she could think of, was to lean forward slightly and let her laced armor do its job. Though she felt a little weird, being overly flirtatious with him. That wasn’t something she was used to though, she’d normally flirt and sleep with anyone to get what she needed done. Jobs or pleasure wise. She felt herself genuinely liking him. He was strangely inviting.

Brynjolf was happy to see the woman. They may have only met a day ago, and she’d only been gone since this morning, but it felt like weeks. Not knowing where she was or if she was injured, or worse. A weight had been lingering over him that only lifted now that they were comfortably chatting together. He would get lost in her eyes. Wanting to place his hand on hers while she told him how the job went. He loved when she would smile. How her sultry lips would stretch across her white teeth and make her cheeks prominent and rosy. How she would sometimes look embarrassed and would hide behind whatever was in her hands at the moment. His heart fluttered when she leaned forward, giving him a front row seat to her chest.

There was no way of telling time down here, other than the light shining down from the center of the cistern. It was coming in at more of an angle, and not as bright as before showing the sun had begun to set. Allustria noticed this and sighed.

“Well, I shouldn’t keep Maven waiting any longer.” She stood from her seat and stretched her arms way over her head, bending from one side to the other. Brynjolf’s eyes lingered on her exposed skin, down to her hips, to the tops of her thighs. The armor she wore pulled up slightly as she moved her body. He swallowed at the sight. He loved that little shimmer her skin gave off. It was beautiful and begged to be touched. Gods, he wanted to kiss her thighs. Have them on either side of his face, squishing him.

“I’ll be back soon.” She promised and headed toward the ladder. She made sure to brush against Brynjolf just a bit, as she passed, before leaving the cistern.

——————————————————-

Maven was waiting on the second floor of the inn, book in hand, and an empty chair across from her. She licked her thumb and turned the page, then her eyes focused past the book, suddenly noticing the chair was now occupied.

“My, you’re quiet.” She went back to her book, finishing the sentence before setting it down. She raised an eyebrow. “I don’t remember requesting an assassin.”

“I’m a member of the Thieves Guild now.” Allustria smiled, warmly.

“Oh. Well now, isn’t that interesting? Shame, you were my favorite to hire. I didn’t realize Brynjolf’s new prize was someone I was already acquainted with.” Allustria’s heart gave a little tug of excitement at that remark. “This makes things easier though. I know I can trust you to get this done.” She continued. “I’m in need of someone to take a trip to Whiterun. Clear out the meadery down there of its pests. Including the current owner. Talk with Mallus Maccius. He’ll fill you in.”

“I’ll head there right away.” Allustria gave Maven a nod and left her to her reading. The thought of ‘Brynjolf’s new prize’ lingered in her mind. She wondered how he speaks of her when she’s not there.

—————————————————

The sun had set. Torchbugs and Luna moths flurried in groups near patches of flowers. Allustria took her time getting back to the guild. Taking in the quiet sounds. Not a soul to be seen. She leaned on the railing of the bridge just past the entrance to the tavern. The night air playing in her hair. The sounds of creaking wood and sloshing water coming in waves below her. Along with the crickets rubbing their little legs together.

Her mind drifted and imagined Brynjolf finding her up here, putting his hand on hers and listening to the sounds with her. She thought it was a little cheesy and embarrassing to want something so simple like that. Allustria tried to think of what she’d tell the man about her trip to Whiterun. Maybe… Maybe he’d want to go with her…

“Something the matter, Lass?” Brynjolf’s intoxicating voice hit her from behind. She whipped around.

“By the Gods Brynjolf, you scared me!” Hand over her chest. He grinned and scratched the back of his head

“Payback for last time,” He joined her at the rail.

“What are you doing up here?”

“A man can’t get a drink at the inn?”

Allustria turned and looked at him. “You’re in full Thieves Guild armor. I don’t think that would have been smart.” She laughs, clearly not buying his excuse.

“Fine. I… thought you were taking a little longer than necessary, so I… wanted to make sure you were okay.” He was embarrassed to admit it.

“Awe, did you miss me that much?” Allustria teased.

She inhaled deeply and leaned into him with her exhale. Head resting against his shoulder. It may have only been a small gesture, but the action felt like a lift in their friendship. A sign of comfort between them. Brynjolf smiled, warmly, and looked down at the top of her head. She smelled nice.

“Maven has a job for me in Whiterun.” Allustria told him. His heart sank.

“That’s a long ways away.”

“Yeah. I’ll be gone for a couple of days at least.” She wanted to ask him to come with, but was too shy to go through with it.

“What’s the job?”

“Oh something about the meadery down there. I don’t know all the details yet.”

“That’s a.. Long walk to go on your own.”

“… It is.” Allustria’s heart began beating faster ‘please ask to come with!’

“Do you… I mean— Would you… want some… company?” He asked, feeling hopeful. She turned her head to look up at him. She could kiss him right now, but she held back her urges. Not yet.

Brynjolf’s heart melted. Their faces were so close to each other, and the way she looked longingly at him almost killed him.

“Let’s go~” She smiled. Butterflies filled Brynjolf’s core.

“Alright, let’s go.”

read it on the fanfiction site

#brynjolf #delvin #thieves guild #skyrim #elderscrolls #fanfic #fanfiction #brynjolf fanfiction #skyrim fanfiction #brynjolf x dragonborn #skyrim oc #dark elf #the thief and the moon

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delvine · 2 years

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the sweetest moment

summary: to everyone around him, gojo satoru is the strongest, except for you.

tags / warnings : established relationship, ooc gojo, minor manga spoilers, cursing (once)

gojo satoru never realized how lonely he truly was before he dated you. the majority of the time he would focus on his environment. the first and second years, shoko, jujutsu tech. and you, before you two dated. he put his heart into everyone surrounding him for a better future. it was just…sometimes he would be selfish. or more so; think selfishly. on certain days, all satoru wanted was to be understood by someone. it didn’t have to be everyone, he knew the world didn’t revolve around him. but to the world he was only the strongest. to everyone around him he was the strongest.

“y/n..” satoru murmured. you hummed questionably at him in response, your eyes fixated on the meal you were cooking. it has been a long day. gojo had a mission abroad which he came back from this evening. you had a day off, but decided to catch up with some chores. it was barely anything for both of you, but time always moved slower when you two were apart from each other.

“what am i to you?” satoru asked and you were stunned by the question. was this a trick question? you let the meal you were making go and turned towards him. “you’re my boyfriend, of course! are you testing me or something?” you laughed and poked his side to which satoru snickered at. “no! i’m not. i’m not testing you. sorry that i asked,” satoru said, voice getting softer as he apologized

you frowned at his response. “you don’t have to say sorry about anything! my oh-so-sweet boyfriend! my lover! my best friend.” you said as you danced and twirled around him. satoru laughed at your flattery, but paused at the last two words. best friend.

“i’m your best friend?”

“yeah! if you weren’t, you wouldn’t be my boyfriend, now would you?” you asked with a grin. satoru seemed to be gone by that comment. gone in his mind at least. but his stupid ecstatic grin widened by the second. you tried to get him out of his head. “yo!! satoru! i don’t know what fantasy you’re losing yourself in, but at least take it out on me! you know me, the love of your life-?”

you were interrupted by your lover who embraced you, lifting you from the ground and spinning you around. your legs left the ground naturally, wrapping around satoru’s waist and your arms pulling his chest closer to yours. as he stopped his spinning due to your begging to do so, he showered you with kisses. from both your cheeks, to your forehead, to your jaw, kissing all over your face until his lips met yours. that kiss was passionate and deep yet so, so happy. it was like the butterflies in the stomach came back for both of you. as satoru’s lips left yours, you two were just staring at each other now. so mesmerized, so lovingly. like you two were falling for each other all over again.

“you know, you were right.”

“about what?”

“you being the love of my life.”

as you giggled about satoru being cheesy, it was now your turn to kiss him all over. and at that moment, gojo satoru finally felt a sense of relief. he felt like he got the second chance he silently prayed for. he laughed himself out of his daze, his eyes focusing on you again with his smile returning. but it quickly seemed to fade as his gaze went to the stove. “y/n. our dinner!”

you stopped your kissing, quickly turning around. “SHIT!”

#— del writes 💌#gojo satoru x female reader #gojo satoru x black!reader #gojo satoru x black!fem!reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru scenario #gojo satoru imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #jjk #jjk hc #jjk scenarios #jjk x reader

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1000fiction · 3 years

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Day 10: Frottage ft. Brynjolf

Relationship: Unspecified

Species: Unspecified

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, Sexual Daydreams

Summary: Yet another cause for celebration has attracted quite the crowd to the Flagon, and whilst they’d rather be in each others company in private, a little party isn’t going to stop the Guildmaster from causing some mischief with their second in command.

The Flagon was alive, truly alive. The alcoves were filled to the brim with trading merchandise, tables had been added to compensate for the sudden influx of patrons. Vekel’s bar had never been so busy, nor had his stocks been filled with such fine goods. The guild in every aspect had its soul back. Not a single member could’ve asked for more.

That was until the Guildmaster returned not a month later, a leather backpack stashing some of the rarest treasure few had laid their eyes upon.

With assistance from Vex, the legendary Crown of Barenziah had been reformed to its mythical glory, and now took pride of place amongst the guilds other keepsakes, right behind the Guildmaster’s desk.

What had once been a gloomy area due to Mercer's consistently foul mood, was now a reminder of what could be achieved. All thanks to the efforts of Brynjolf’s protégé.

The title of protégé had long been swept aside, however, as many would argue the new Guildmaster had far succeeded their second in command in skill - Brynjolf being one of few to disputed such a statement - but none could deny their shared title of lovers, for it seemed neither made an effort to disguise their relationship.

Not ones to miss a celebration down in the sewers, the thief of the hour and their second in command were in attendance at the central table, the Guildmaster nested in Brynjolf’s lap, bottle held loosely in their grip, and an easy smile upon their face as their free fingers stroked idly through fiery red hair.

“Never dared to dream the guild would come this far love,” he voiced, head rested against their shoulder as he sat in quiet contemplation, his slightly inebriated mind drifting through the feats and foes the pair had faced together “couldn’t have done any of this without you. Though I suppose I deserve some credit for finding you in the first place.” The Nord chuckled, hand idly running across his companion’s thigh.

“Very funny, lad.” They jested, poorly executing his accent as they ruffled his hair. “Though I suppose you’re right, I’d still be picking pockets and roaming free without you.” A pinch to their rear silenced them rather quickly. “Fine, fine, I’d be nothing without you, the guild would be nothing without you, you’re a hell of a man.”

“Oh, say that last part again, I think I like it.” He chuckled, nuzzling into the soft skin of their neck.

“You’re a hell of a man, Brynjolf, my man, to be exact.” Their tone dropped, sultry and smooth and their fingers trailed down to graze over the fine hairs at the back of his neck, using the leverage to pull themselves against him, strategically rubbing against his crotch.

His eyes widened as he looked them over incredulously, gaze flicking to the company they were surrounded by. He took note rather quickly that none were at all interested in the love birds, not when they had the choice to watch Delvin attempt to drag Vex onto a table for a dance. Though, perhaps they were all waiting for the fight that was likely to ensue.

The thoughts and fears of wondering eyes were swiftly cast aside, however, as his lover spun in his lap, resting their elbows on the table, thus slotting his already stiffening cock snugly between their buttocks.

He tested his grip and their hip, tugging and releasing in time with steady rocks back and forth. Attempting to look nonchalant, he looked towards Delvin’s drunken performance, though that was exceptionally difficult given the rising tightness in his leathers.

The Guildmaster on the other hand, seemed to be coping just fine – to his annoyance – as they had now begun conversing with Vipir and Cynric who neighboured them at the table. Though he barely registered what they said, his lover’s words must have been truly enthralling for neither of the lower members noticed the slow gyration of the Guildmaster’s hips, an action strikingly similar to ones performed between the lovers in the privacy of Honeyside. They had both been naked those times – he thought, bitterly – and as he recalled, his cock had also been buried in them, his name rolling off their tongue in amorous euphoria.

It was that moment he realised he would not be receiving such sounds. No words of praise, no unbridled cry of his name at their climax. It was torture.

Delicious, torture.

The groan he let out was intentional. Honest.

Vekel seemed to be the only one that noticed the strange occurrence, and in a shockingly quick moment of genius, Brynjolf snatched up his companion’s now empty bottle.

“Another round of your finest Vekel, for the finest thief in the guild, and for the finest thieves in all of Tamriel!” The flagon erupted in cheers, despite his hopes of distracting the revelers with alcohol, Brynjolf now felt far too many eyes on him.

“To the guild, to nocturnal, and most importantly, to getting drunk blind!” The Guildmaster leaned back into him, taking the new beverage from the passing barkeep, and raising it in toast, expertly covered his now prominent bulge with their rear in the process. All around took a swig of their drink before going back to enjoying the festivities.

Not long after did Delvin dive headfirst from his stage, giving the pair the perfect distraction, one the Guildmaster in its entirety.

Hands on his knees and feet firm to the ground, they bounced on the straining bulge of his cock, the contact sending torturous shockwaves through his aching shaft. He moaned again, though he was smart enough to muffle it, his face buried in their neck as stray strands of his hair tickled their cheek. They laughed merrily; any who happened to glance over would surely mistake their lustful disposition as an alcohol-fuelled daze. He felt them clench, his hands straying to their ass to feel the muscles tighten and release. By the nine he wished for nothing more than to take them there and then, bent face-first into the table, onlookers be damned.

They’d fucked several times in risky places, including the cistern, but never had he entertained the idea of having people intentionally see them. He surprised himself by finding the thought obnoxiously appealing.

He could imagine it now, his cock balls deep inside them, his hand at the back of their neck pressing them into their desk, their moans and gasps echoing around the cistern with each of his thrusts. Niruin would miss every shot at his target, Thrynn would miss every swing at the training dummy, and Cynric would no doubt break several lockpicks as he desperately tried to focus on his practice chests. All others that occupied the space would have to bury themselves in their beds, or watch.

It would certainly stop the lecherous gazes some of the newer recruits dared to throw at his lover, as all would finally be able to see how good he made them feel. And how no one would be able to stand up to such a performance.

Such thoughts swam in his mind for Gods only knew how long, and without his consent, his fingers dug harder into their hips, and he began rocking up into them. Thankfully, his conscious hadn’t left him entirely, for he didn’t move with the intensity he would usually use to chase his release. His lover helped him further – thank the Gods! – by clutching their stomach in theatrical laughter, the way their body rocked and quaked causing delicious friction against his oversensitive cock.

Brynjolf came hard.

Were it not for the quality of the Guildmaster uniform, he would’ve ripped holes where his fingers clung to them, their leathers bunched in his fingers as he slowly came down from his high, his mind still racing with unsavoury thoughts, and blood beading at his bottom lip from how hard he’d bit into it.

He felt them shift, felt his cum smearing against his softened cock within his own breeches, and felt the warmth of their side once again resting against his chest as it had been before this encounter.

“You’re lucky Vex finally decided to start a fight, otherwise someone surely would’ve noticed how dazed you’d become. I would’ve assumed you’d plain of existence, were it not for the way you desperately attempted to rut into me without someone noticing.” Their breath fanned his skin, cool against his burning cheeks. They lay a kiss to the flushed skin, gently smoothing back his stray hairs from his eyes. “What were you thinking about?”

“Can’t tell you I’m afraid, after the stunt you just pulled, I don’t want to go putting ideas in your head.” He chuckled, pulling them in for a sparingly chaste kiss.

With an arm wrapped securely around their waist, he was finally able to lurch forward and take his own renewed tankard from the table, clinking the metal gently against their bottle.

“But I do have a mind full of ways to punish you for all this. So long as you have a plan to get me out of here without everyone seeing I’ve soiled myself.”

#Skyrim #Skyrim x Reader #Kinktober 2019 #Kinktober #Brynjolf #Spicy

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viinsahnir · 2 years

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25 Days of TES Cheer - Day 7: Kiss

Snow gently fell from the sky and down upon Riften. The city was lit up with lanterns and was decorated in New Life decorations. For the first time in a very long time, the streets were bustling with people, bringing so much life back to the city.

Where they could, merchants were setting up their own stalls to display and sell their assortment of festive and exotic goods. A small group of musicians had set up in front of the blacksmith, playing a jaunty tune. As they played people, either together or alone, danced before them. People browsed the goods on the stalls that were already set up, while others stood around, tankards in hand, and talked.

Though many of Riften’s citizens would never openly admit it, ever since the Thieves Guild had gotten back on its feet, the city had started to thrive again.

Marisa and Brynjolf walked through the streets, their arms linked. For once, they weren’t in their Guild leathers. Instead Brynjolf wore a deep blue tunic with silver embroidery, a black undershirt, dark trousers and boots. His hair had been tied back into an elegant knot.

While Marisa wore blood red gown with golden embroidery down the sleeves and along the hem of the skirt. The neckline was deep, stopping just above her breasts, showing the gold dragon pendant she always wore. Her hair had been done up in a braid, that she had draped over her shoulder.

“It’s been a long time since I last saw Riften like this. All thanks to you,” he said as they checked out a stall with Redguard jewellery.

“Someone had to breath life back to this city,” she replied with a chuckle.

He shook his head as he chuckled as well. “I heard Keerava managed to get ahold of some spiced wine.”

“Something other than Black-Briar mead? Count me in.”

The Bee and Barb was almost as busy as it was outside, so Brynjolf made his way up the counter, while Marisa waited for him. When he came back, he glanced up and raised an eyebrow. She followed were his eyes were and feigned surprise. Above her, hanging from the ceiling, was a sprig of mistletoe.

“Oh, I didn’t notice that,” she claimed, not that he believed a word of it.

“Right, of course you didn’t, love,” he replied as handed her a drink. “If you wanted a kiss all you had to do was ask.” He stepped closer to her. His free hand coming to rest on her waist and he leaned in close, their breaths mingling.

“Yes, but this is more fun.” She closed the small gap between them, pressing her lips to his.

“Oh for gods sake, get a room you two!” a familiar voice called to them.

They pulled apart and looked around the inn until their eyes landed on Delvin. He was leaning against one of the wooden pillars, a good natured smile on his face as he shook his head at them. Marisa playfully rolled her eyes before kissing Brynjolf again. The scoff they then heard had them both pulling away as they laughed and watched Delvin walked out of the inn.

“Though, perhaps he’s right, love. Maybe we should go and find ourselves as room,” he said, his voice dropping low as he moved in close again.

Brynjolf, however, was stopped in his tracks when Marisa pressed a finger to his lips.

“Before we’ve relieved some of these fine folks of their purses?” Her own voice dropping so only he could hear her, “I don’t think so.”

#25daysoftescheer #day 7: kiss #oc: marisa hall #brynjolf #otp: dragons and thieves #delvin mallory #skyrim #my writing #my ocs

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caithyra · 4 years

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Don’t think about it...

...Because when you do, the Thieves’ Guild/Nightingale questline just becomes more and more disturbing, and you might just end up feeling sympathy for the guy you have no choice but to kill.

Basically, I am trying to create an abbreviated timeline of Skyrim’s characters’ history just in case I get off my butt and write fanfic, and I ran into this:

Mercer Frey is at most, around 50 years old in 4E 201. I guess this because he lives in the sewers (illnesses flow down with the dung and trash+no sunlight is aging and bad for the health, so if he was older he would probably be sick) and crouches (ages the joints) all his life, yet was spry enough to climb a giant statue and pry jewels that had been in the rock for millennia loose. If he was in his 60s with his lifestyle he likely couldn’t have done that, Skeleton Key or no Skeleton Key (also, not a single gray hair that I could see, so...).

Subtracting 25 years after Gallus’ death, gives us around 25 years old. subtracting at least 3 years of Karliah being a regular Nightingale not on the lamb, because she seems pretty comfortable with the role and the Skyrim locations (and was also the lover of an adult, we get perilously close to underage the further back we push this, and she’d been his “little nightingale” for so long she was obsessed with killing Mercer 25 years later), he would be around 22 years old when she was inducted.

And he was a senior Nightingale, I would guess at least 5 years her senior as a Nightingale.

So when Gallus and Karliah’s mother sold his soul to Nocturnal, he would have been around 17 years old at the oldest. And given how small a margin I’ve given these years, I would guess the more likely age for Mercer’s selling of soul would have been 15 years old.

The thing is, he and Karliah would have been about the same age (as an elf, she looks younger, heck, her grandmother, Barenziah, was pretty spry and popping out her mother at the age of 379, and if Karliah is only as young as Mercer, then Karliah’s mother popped Karliah out when she was around 170+ years old) and as a Breton, he probably matures slower than a regular mannish race without half-elven ancestry (a half-elven Emperor, Cassynder, is remarked upon to have aged “like a Breton” suggesting slower maturity, as he died of ill health and so certainly did not have the lifespan of a Breton).

And on top of it all, the way Karliah’s life plays out in Gallus’ book (Nightingales Vol.2), it seems like her lover and her mother waited until she was an adult before inducting her to give her a better choice, unlike Mercer (who was likely inducted because Karliah’s grandfather died, or because Lorthus, who may or may not have been Karliah’s father, died in Whiterun’s dungeons, and because it needs to be a Trinity and they didn’t think Karliah would have been ready), who was put in the position of selling his soul as a child while pressured by authority figures that it was a great honor.

Not only that, but Frey is not a Breton name. In fact, as a surname, it seems very Nordic, and given that there is no trace of Mercer’s background or parentage and that the highest population of Bretons and Reachmen lives under the thumb of Nords as serfs (and children take the race of the mother) in the Reach and that he picks a second-in-command with a Reach accent...

Yeah, so it seems more like Mercer’s conception may or may not have been consensual. That he somehow ended up in Gallus’ path when he was a very young child (at best, his mother died when he was very young and his father either also died or there was no relationship so he didn’t recognize Mercer, or Gallus kidnapped him), and Mercer grows into his midteens in the guild when the guildmaster and a legendary figure (Nightingale, Karliah’s mother) either convinces him to sell his soul to Nocturnal, or tricks him like Karliah tricked the Dragonborn and Brynjolf.

And then he grows into adulthood and realizes what they’ve done to him (eternal slavery even beyond death, even worse than the Reachmen in the Reach).

Is it really any wonder he “desecrates” Nocturnal’s shrine to live large while he can? Why he kills Gallus when Gallus starts trying to be all moral about it? (Oh, and given the sticky timeline, if Karliah is any younger than Mercer and not the same age or older, her and Gallus’ relationship likely started when she was barely legal after he watched her from her mid-teenage years as her guildmaster and superior; isn’t Gallus a swell, moral guy? Totally a honorable thief!) because he now hates Gallus? Is it any wonder that Karliah is framed when Mercer’s entire life and death has revolved around her and her family/lover?

Notice that for 25 years, he was content taking care of the Thieves’ Guild and only skimming the top of the (dwindling) profits and practically did everything to keep it running (again, I do not believe the Guild fell on hard times because of Mercer, given that their luck is sooo bad that they randomly recruit the Last Dragonborn when it is at its worse. Given how little the other leaders seems to do, it seems more self-inflicted, also given that the Last Dragonborn can fix it all up by doing a bunch of regular quests any thief in the guild, but most especially senior members like Brynjolf, Vex and Delvin, could have done).

Also I would like to point out that Karliah lies or is paranoid when she says that she’s been hunted for 25 years by Mercer’s contacts, given that there is only evidence of him having 3 contacts who would do such a thing, and the Black-Briars knew nothing, the Dark Brotherhood certainly wasn’t wasting their dwindling resources (they were hunted to near extinction 13 years ago and were losing Sanctuaries even before that) on her and the Thieves’ Guild were all surprised she still existed.

Given that Karliah constantly lies about things like this (even Gallus, in his book, contradicts her attributing everything to him, by pointing out that her mother and Mercer were there in the same capacity), she’s likely lying. But then again, Gallus had the gall to lie to my face as a ghost (stating he wasn’t in the Sepulcher when the sealing happened and then stating with certainty what happened during the sealing, even though only Daedric Princes would know enough to make an accurate guess, and even then might be wrong unless they’re Nocturnal herself), so maybe he lied in his book?

But anyway, back to Mercer. So for 25 years he’s been content being guildmaster.

And it is only when Karliah shows up again and escapes his attempt at killing her that he empties the vault and leaves (and again, Karliah was trying to destroy the guild in a more permanent way by angering Maven Black-Briar. At least you can refill an empty vault, you cannot refill the ranks of killed master thieves so easily. Then, when the Dragonborn gives Karliah the option of an in with the guild, she just skates right on in and no one points this out. Either that or her plan was so stupid, she planned, as the known killer of the previous guildmaster, to walk into the guild with the current guildmaster paralyzed over her shoulder waving her boyfriend’s supposed diary in an unreadable language and claim innocence? Also, a thief’s diary that only mentions what she needs us to know but not his great love for his “little nightingale”? Or even just “we danced the horizontal tango yesterday, her mother is angry because she thinks I’m too old for her, fortunately she was killed by mercenaries finding our super secret hideout that only I and Mercer knew about~Time to turn little Karliah into my little nightingale~”).

Like imagine if Karliah moved on from her (creepy) boyfriend and made a life for herself outside Skyrim? The only thing the guild to complain about when it comes to Mercer would be his admin fees (skimming) because no one else have done the accounting for 25 years (looking at you, Bryn and Del, oh and notice how long it took for Gallus to notice? He was guildmaster but did he foist the admin work on Mercer too? On top of selling Mercer’s soul?) and doesn’t want to step up in any capacity to do any of his work (See Guildmaster Dragonborn despite there being three senior leaders left in the Thieves Guild; at the least Companions killed off Kodlak [who dreamed about you] and Skjor and caused a schism on the lycanthropy topic between Aela and the twins before you became the Harbinger who is just a mediator and advisor, and you just arbitrarily becomes the Listener because “Sweet Mother” is a fucking troll who played deadbeat to her “children” for 13 years, and I cannot really justify the Archmage thing, but I can do it much better than the Guildmaster thing).

And there wouldn’t have been any selling of souls to a demonic goddess Karliah calls a “scolding mother” who is more deadbeat than the Night Mother and who, like the Night Mother, keeps you in servitude beyond your death.

But like I said, don’t think about it.

Oh and I’m not the only one who is kind of put off by Karliah’s “specialness” what with being the secret granddaughter of THE Nightingale and Queen Barenziah, and the only Dunmer I can think of without ash-red eyes (even Vivec’s Dunmer half had a red eye, and he was considered as powerful as a god, just to show how all-encompassing Azura’s curse was) and instead have violet eyes, and how everyone praises how smart and skilled she is while everything she does is stupid and failing?

Oh right. I need to stop thinking about this quest-line and the fact that my only choice was killing the child victim of a demonic cult after he grew up and tried to escape for the crime of taking some going-away-money I could replace in five minutes, just to avenge some dude who sells children’s soul into slavery after his girlfriend tricks me into selling mine and... Okay, not thinking about it!

#skyrim #mercer frey #thieves' guild #nightingales #gallus desidenius #barenziah #karliah the liar #nocturnal #rant #gallus is just so bad when you think about the timeline #like he had time to introduce karliah to enthir and they had time to become friends #to the point that enthir doesn't believe she killed his best friend even though that's what everyone's saying #saying that mercer's soul was sold when he was 15 years old is being generous #because the more I look at the timeline #anything between 12-17 seems possible #and that 12 limit only exists because I hope Nocturnal would refuse anyone younger #sympathy for the assigned devil of the narrative #like gallus totally had it coming #okay need to stop thinking about this questline

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ivisite · 4 years

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DRAGONBORN 30 DAY CHALLENGE

Day 13 - Thieves in the Ratway

Did they join the Thieves Guild?:

She officially joined as a member when she was 20 after impressing the senior members with her skills while tagging along with Brynjolf on his jobs. She was around long enough to get to know several of the more esteemed members but wasn’t there long enough to get close to many of the “entry level” recruits.

She returned at 27 (she was with the Companions a few months and her birthday passed) and since she never “left” the guild, technically she was still a member. Albeit she was in debt and kind of just doing the work for the sake of paying off what she owed rather than for the hell of it. Mercer very sarcastically applauded her when she followed Brynjolf into the Cistern running a few jobs after, stating that “I’d be impressed with your feat had you not put us in more debt then we were already in” and even scoffing and saying “You know, it takes a certain kind of person to be a thief, but it takes a special kind of person to be a thief of thieves.”

If yes…

How did they feel about their fellow guild members?:

As a younger person, she was more concerned with the likes of Bryn, but when she returned she found herself rather comfortable with the rough rabble of the Flagon. Something about everyone being a societal reject or odd-ball made her feel right at home. Despite her and the other local red head of the guild often bickering and arguing upon her return, she was rather friendly with everyone else. More often than not, specially after getting a few jobs under her belt, the others started warming up to her and she ended up the center of the Flagon with her stories of her travels and her past with the guild.

She warms up to Brynjolf, too, but only after they get stuck on a heist job together because Delvin claimed “You’re in charge of her debt, Bryn, you ought to make sure she can even do the jobs. Go on and go with her.” It almost went bad (because they started bickering mid-job) but they managed to reluctantly work together and get what they needed and get out without getting caught. Afterwards, they were hyping each other up but realized that they were being civil and [ tsundere bagpipe mode ] kicked in and they started bickering out in the middle of Morthal’s swamps until it got so heated they kissed. Went to Morthal, got drunk and caught up afterwards and managed to work things out that night. Delvin got 1000 septims though, having been in a bet with Vekel and Dirge about the two getting back on good terms.

How about Maven Black-Briar?:

From the beginning, she’s always kept Maven at arms length. They’re both terribly good at speaking and dancing around words so the conversations between them are always short. She respects that she’s a strong woman but also thinks that she could use something or something to keep her power balanced out. Another powerful person moving to town or something. Too much power never ends well, after all. They are neutral, at best. Maven doesn’t like Saoirse for being so “good at making coin” and drawing people in and Saoirse doesn’t like that Maven thinks she’s some sort of goddess on Nirn. Money talks though and both enjoy money, so at least they have that common ground.

Her daughter is nice though. After buying Honeyside to avoid sleeping with the skeevers in the sewer, she often takes trip down the the Apothecary shop and talks alchemy with Ingun.

Was Mercer Frey’s betrayal a shock to them?:

She never liked that old codger, even when she initially joined when she was younger so it wasn’t too terribly surprising. Dodgy as he was and terribly bitter all the time, she figured he must have been up to something. After he tried to kill her though, she was a little more upset. It’s all fun and games until it gets personal and then she gets mad, so to speak. (scared, really, but that’s another story) She’s not reluctant about helping Karliah out at all, trusting her and standing her ground on the matter when confronted by the other guild members and Brynjolf. When Karliah states she knows how to get to Mercer, Saoirse is ready to squad up.

How do they feel as a Nightingale?:

She’s not terribly into religion, Aedra or Daedra, so the whole “doing it in the name of Nocturnal and serving the prince in life and death” thing weirded her out. Herself and Brynjolf were both a bit turned off from the idea at first but eventually shrugged it off and gave in, if only to get the guild back on the right path. The armor is neat, though, at least. “Y’know Karliah, Bryn and I always joked we were a match made in Sovngarde with the irony being that neither of us would ever get to go there.” Saoirse said thoughtfully with a short chuckle. “...Aye, I suppose birds of a feather will always flock together though.”

Will they make a good Guild Master?:

Once again, I kind of sway from canon with this but it’s still lore friendly. After she does the main quest of returning the skeleton key, she still keeps her base of operations in Riften while going about the Dragonborn destiny with the Greybeards. While out traveling all over Skyrim on that journey, she keeps up with the guild and continues doing jobs to count towards her debt that she insists on paying off, regardless of all she’s done. Eventually, she manages to get all the special jobs and when offered the title, she takes it for exactly two days and then gets Brynjolf really drunk and romances him real good one night and, in his drunken stupor, tricks him into taking the Guildmaster title. After he’s tuckered out and fast asleep, she returns to the Flagon, tells Delvin of Brynjolf’s new title and that he’d be down tomorrow morning to get started on the books and officially “gives up” the rank before heading back out to Ivarstead for more Dragonborn-ing. To say the very least, when Bryn made it down the next day all full of himself and hung-over, he wasn’t sure what to make of Delvin dropping the Guilds’ books and finances onto his table at the Flagon and carrying on about “Good luck, Guildmaster.” Once she pays off her debt and talks the now sober Brynjolf into “just dealing with it like he promised”, she takes her leave from the guild but stays in touch, of course ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Late but better than nothing OTL

I like to think that Saoirse would insist on “Nightingale Squad Casual Fredas” meet ups to drink and hang out with each other.

Also, the drunker she gets, the more you can hear bagpipes playing aggressively in the distance, canon. (background is screenshot because I can’t draw Rift scenery to save my life)

----

“You know...I think Ulfric just needs to get himself a good Dunmer lass to bed him.” Saoirse said after a long moment of thought.

The comment earned her a snort from the Dunmer nearby and an inquisitive nod from Brynjolf next to her.

“W-Why say that?” Karliah asked, her attention split between sipping as slowly as possible on her drink and watching the two red-headed Nords as they both heartily drank their own drinks.

She wasn’t very prudent, so to speak, but in comparison to her Nord friends, she seemed rather stiff about it all. She didn’t think little of them, of course, and in fact was rather amused by her two associates across the way. Having been in hiding for so long, the comradery was of the welcomed sort.

“Listen, he’s an ol’ codger in the worst way- ought to get bedded once real good and who better to knock some sense into that thick ‘ead of his than a strong Dunmer lass? The irony of it!” Saoirse said, holding her bottle of mead out and pointing it at Karliah.

Brow raised and mouth curled into a confident pout, the red head took a sip from her bottle and chuckled. “It’d be funny, at least. Make him feel like a right arse for how he keeps Windhelm divided.” She grumbled.

“Right awful of him, the old bastard. Ne’er met him but I don’t think I’d want to, ya ken?” Brynjolf finally spoke up after finishing off his Alto Wine. “I ‘ave, at Helgen. We were in the same wagon. He’s very tall. I dinnae ken if it was just the outfit or his presence but he was intimidating to stand by.” Saoirse cooed, gulping down the last swig of her mead.

“Helgen?” Karliah asked, catching Saoirse off guard a bit. “Aye, I was almost executed. Unfairly, too. Of all the things I’ve done in life thus far, and they try to execute me for swapping potions for arrows at a Stormcloak outpost I came across.”

Her tone was amusingly dry as she spoke, rolling her eyes mid-sentence and Karliah couldn’t help but laugh. “Ya’know, I think we should do this more often.” Brynjolf spoke up once again, having discovered the emptiness of his bottle. Scoffing in disdain, he dropped the now empty bottle behind him.

“Need to bring more to drink next time though.” He continued, making the two women snicker at his flushing cheeks. His brows furrowed some at the reaction but he tossed an arm over Saoirse’s shoulders and gave Karliah a hardy pat on the back never-the-less.

“Ah, you two can pick all you’d like. I suppose I’d rather it be you two than Ol’ Delvin.” He cooed.

#dragonborn challenge #female dragonborn #saoirse : oc #thieves guild #character creation #karliah #brynjolf #skyrim oc #tes oc

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eeveevie · 4 years

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lover

My heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue All's well that ends well to end up with you Swear to be overdramatic and true to my lover [x]

It's Fiona's birthday, and she would rather spend it alone as she's always done. Brynjolf quickly changes her mind.

💕

Brynjolf x Fiona

1262 words (under a cut) | Ao3

4E 203, 13 Sun’s Dawn

Today is my birthday…

For as long as Fiona could remember, she had spent her birthday alone. It was an awkward, melancholy feeling every Sun’s Dawn—instead of feeling excited at another year passing, another year of growing older, all she felt was an overwhelming sense of sadness. Ever since her parents’ death, she had hardly recognized the day other than a special notation in her journal. In the years since their passing, her relatives hadn’t given her the time of day, and when she traveled alone, a birthday was hardly a momentous occasion.

But now that she was in Riften, had been for more than a year now, it was difficult to circumvent the day—practically everybody she knew, at least in the Guild—was aware what that day brought. Even the previous year, when she was still a padfoot, Brynjolf had managed to find a way to tailgate on her trip to Falkreath. Their little escapade had turned out to be a welcome surprise for Fiona, as did their friendship (and eventual relationship), but that didn’t change the fact that even now, a year later, she preferred to reflect on her birthday alone.

That year, she would be thirty-one. Considering she hadn’t thought she would make it a day past twenty, she considered herself lucky. Especially when she thought about how many times she had cut it close with bandits, or Daedra—or dragons. As she scribbled the same line marks as she did every year in her journal to keep track of the time gone by, she idly wondered why the home seemed so quiet. Not that she cared so deeply—it was what she wanted, right? But for Brynjolf to be missing so early in the morning seemed awfully suspicious.

Plus, he positively knew it was her birthday. At least, she hoped he remembered. It wasn’t like him to suddenly forget such a fact, even if he had been knocked over the head a few too many times by wildlife and rogue thieves. Or had drunk himself into an amnesiac stupor on more than one occasion. Finally, the quiet began to pester her far too much and she stood from her desk, pacing about the foyer as if it would calm her nerves.

It didn’t.

Instead, Fiona crumpled her fingers into the fabric of her skirts, regretting that she didn’t take the opportunity to assign herself a few jobs far away from the city that week. She was the Guildmaster after all! If she didn’t want to be there, she didn’t have to be! As she was walking back towards the fireplace, a piece of parchment caught her eye. Perplexed, she rushed over to snatch it up, quickly glancing over the short but scribbled message in all to familiar handwriting.

Lover,

Ragged Flaggon at Dusk

-Your Tafiir

Oh, so Brynjolf was definitely up to something after all, Fiona only needed to figure out what. Her heart immediately began pounding in her chest, echoing in her ears. Last time, only a few months ago, he had gone through such an effort on a romantic gesture for one type of goal in mind. A mix of emotions and trepidation started to bubble in Fiona’s gut as she whisked herself out the door, almost forgetting to slip on her shoes before she went.

It didn’t take her very long to make her way to the graveyard entrance, lingering outside the mausoleum long enough to steady her nerves. Was Brynjolf really that foolish to propose again so soon? On her birthday? What was she kidding, asking herself that? Of course he was. Brynjolf would ask her every single day if he had the opportunity, but he knew it was likely she’d ship him off to Solstheim if that was the case.

Maybe Fiona was worried over nothing—perhaps he had simply baked her a cake to share with the Guild. She could live with that. But as she made her way into the Cistern proper, she was faced with what appeared to be almost every member of the organization, lingering about as if they had been waiting her arrival. She stood there, blinking, just watching her thieves until she noted a familiar face—Delvin, silently motioning towards the Ragged Flaggon door.

Well, it was now or never.

Fiona’s breath escaped her in one fell gasp the moment she crossed the threshold of the Flaggon. Her eyes dazzled as she took in the sight of the strung up lanterns that circled the large tavern, which she noted had been completely cleared out save for the man who was obviously behind this plan—Brynjolf.

She advanced, taking in more of the atmosphere he had crafted. On every table he had scattered yellow flower petals, and on the table closest to him there was a cluster of rare pearls atop a bundle of wrapped parchment—a present.

“Brynjolf?” she questioned in a hesitant tone, hand reaching out to brush across the gift as she eyed him. As if he could sense her skepticism, he stepped forward, instantly grasping both her hands.

“Now don’t worry that head of yours, lass. I’m not asking for your hand again,” he assured with a grin, squeezing her fingers. Fiona sighed, somewhat relieved. “This time.”

He tilted his head a little closer toward her. “That is, unless you’re prepared to say yes.”

She laughed, despite all the anxiety she had felt up until that moment. “You were saying?”

Brynjolf breathed a smile, tucking their clasped hands to his chest as he brought her closer. “I know it’s your birthday,” he said with the slightest hint of nervousness. “I know you’d rather be alone. I was hoping I could change your mind.”

Fiona gazed up at his hopeful expression and already she could feel her heart soaring. Brynjolf didn’t always ask for much but he truly was a hopeless romantic. In all the bad deals she had been dealt in life, she had lucked out in meeting him. She suddenly felt very foolish for ever wanting to spend the day locked away in Honeyside when she had this man with his whole heart to give to her, just waiting to show what good there was in life.

“What do you have in mind?” she asked in reply.

He gently started to sway them, moving one hand so it slid around the small of her back, bringing her even closer. Fiona took the opportunity to hook her free arm around his shoulder, busying her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. It was strange to dance to no music, but they did so at their own pace, slowly, just softly smiling as they gazed into one another’s eyes. Somewhere, in the back of her mind she thought that if he dared to ask her right then, she might’ve said yes.

“Bryn?”

“Aye?”

She tilted her chin up, pausing in their movements so she could kiss him, grinning when she felt him smiling against her lips. He embraced her tighter, kissed her a little harder until she was breaking away for an inhale of air, giggling about how absolutely in-love she was. Brynjolf placed a softer kiss to the bridge of her nose and another to her forehead before hovering across her lips once more.

“What can I do for the birthday queen?” he asked. Fiona rather liked the sound of that, though she only wanted one thing, and that was to be with her king.

“Take me home,” she smiled against his lips. “Lover.”

❤ 13/29 ❤

#elder scrolls: skyrim #brynjolf #brynjolf x f!dovahkiin #fiona bloom-holt #otp: I shall taunt you a second time #fanfic #t-swift february fics #happy birthday fiona #my sweet lover sign lass #so of course she gets this song #and yes i needed to use the video gif #this is supremely cheesy #like taco bell supreme beef cheese level of cheese #🌮🌮🌮

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daedriclorde · 4 years

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Heart’s Day Fluff

Okay, I know Valentine’s Day was days ago. And while I recognize that in most parts of the world, the Tamrielic Heart’s Day is done or past. But in my time zone I still got two hours for this to be timed appropriately!

Only posting this here, since I’m a little miffed at Ao3 at the moment.

When I was planning this out in my head, I was thinking “oh, about a thousand words, that’ll be good”

two thousand plus words later, enjoy this fluffy fic with Aerisif and Brynjolf :)

Aerisif woke up in the dark room in the Cistern. Even though she was Guild Master, even though she could have the fine bed up in Riftweald Manor, she still chose to sleep down here. The beds may be lumpy, but they were home. Plus, Aerisif felt that it did good for Guild morale and camaraderie for members to see their Guild Master around.

She stretched with a yawn as she found her leathers and changed behind a screen. Need breakfast, she thought sleepily. Dagger tucked securely at her side, she slipped from the sleeping quarters.

The Ragged Flagon was fairly empty. She found her way to a chair and sat down. Vekel came by and placed a plate and a bottle in front of her.

“Huh?” She mumbled, not understanding. Vekel was not known for bringing food to a table, especially when it had not been requested.

But Vekel had walked away again, leaving Aerisif to puzzle this out for herself. In front of her was a plate full of warm sweet rolls. She inhaled the scent and smiled. There was also a large bottle of Black-Briar Reserve, with a shiny ribbon and a note attached.

Good Morning Aer,

Feast up, and prepare yourself for a romantic adventure today!

Love,

Bryn

Shor’s Bones, it’s Heart’s Day! Aerisif cursed. She had forgotten. A romantic adventure? What the hell did that mean? She puzzled over that as she tore open a steaming sweet roll and savored it. The bottle of Black-Briar Reserve uncorked with a satisfying pop, and Aerisif drank deep from the sweet mead.

Aerisif began to pat down the pockets of her leathers, hoping for some trinket or oddity that she had stolen that could pass as a gift for Brynjolf. Yeah, real romantic Aer, she chided herself. Before she could formulate a plan, Brynjolf and Delvin walked into the Flagon. She took one look at them and knew something was up. She could smell it.

“Good morning, lass. I see you found the first part of your Heart’s Day gift!” Bryn said, grinning.

Aerisif crossed her arms. “What are you two up to?”

Delvin feigned shock. “An’ what makes you think we’re up to somethin’?”

Aerisif sniffed again. “The fact that you’ve both bathed.”

Now they were both grinning suspiciously.

“And you best clean up too,” Brynjolf said with that damn charm about him. “We have a party to get to.”

Now it was Aerisif’s turn for shock. “A party?”

“Aye, and a fancy one at that. Go put on those fine robes of yours, and that jewelry you had Madesi make.” He winked at her.

Divines, she cursed. “Fine. I’m still suspicious of you two, but I’ll play along for now.”

Brynjolf clutched a hand to his heart, but portrayed no true pain on his face. “Lass, I’m hurt. Can’t a lad plan a romantic evening for his love?”

Aerisif only eyed him carefully, but grinned and went on her way.

How long has it been since I put on my finery? Aerisif though as she inspected her garments. She was fortunate that they were still in good condition. Holding up the small, cloudy mirror she owned, Aerisif tugged at the runaway strands of black hair trying to escape. She hoped her hair was presentable.

Aerisif took care to avoid the puddles and mud as she walked through the Cistern toward the mausoleum exit. Sapphire whistled playfully as her Guild Master passed, which was returned with a teasing glare.

Upon arriving topside, Aerisif turned the corner to the designated meeting place Brynjolf had described, and stopped short.

She couldn’t help but laugh at the scene: Brynjolf had procured a ornate carriage, the fancy kind nobles used that were entirely closed in, and he proudly stood before it in the nicest robes she had ever seen him in. His boots were not worn and ripped. His clothes bore no trace of mud or blood. They even included fine fur trimming. The thick red hair that normally hung loose was tied back in fashionable braids. Gleaming jewelry adorned his neck and fingers. In sum, he looked very un-Brynjolf-ish. He does look nice, though.

But then she saw Delvin, and was once again caught in laughter. Delvin sat in the driver’s seat, wearing absolutely the most foppish coachmen’s uniform they could have found.

“What is this?” She asked through her giggles.

Brynjolf stepped forward and took her hand. “Why, My Lady, it is our appropriate transportation to our formal engagement this evening.” While his charming accent still shone through, Brynjolf spoke with a more highborn affection. He eyed her up and down. “And My Lady, if it is not too bold for me to say, you look absolutely dazzling.” He raised her hand to his lips and delicately kissed it.

Aerisif felt herself blushing. “Not too bold at all, My Lord, as I find you are equally handsome and handsomely dressed,” she replied in a highborn tone matching his.

Delvin coughed from the driver’s seat. “If you lot are done ooglin’ an’ droolin’ over each other— I mean—“ he coughed again “My Lord and Lady, your carriage awaits to take you to your most esteemed location.”

Aerisif giggled again.

Brynjolf raised a jeweled finger to Delvin, “In just one moment, my good sir.” He gently took Aerisif’s chin and brought her face towards his, placing a tender kiss on her lips. She pressed her body to his and returned the kiss with passion. When they both withdrew, her silver eyes sparkled and his emerald eyes gleamed.

Delvin made a disgusted sound.

“Silence, peasant, and consider yourself grateful to be in the service of two of Cyrodil’s finest nobility!” Brynjolf’s trademark smirk had returned. Delvin grumbled a long string of profanities, and something that sounded like “last time I ever do you a favor”.

Aerisif raised an eyebrow. “Cyrodil?”

But Brynjolf only grinned at her. “Come, we must be away!”

The whole carriage ride, Brynjolf refused to answer any questions regarding the party, the location, or anything else about the evening ahead. He would only smile and say something else in that absurd highborn accent he was faking.

Not long after their departure, the carriage rolled to a stop. Aerisif pulled aside the small curtain covering the window to see where they were. She recognized the location with apprehension.

“What are we doing here?”

Brynjolf winked. “By the way, for the duration of the evening, you are Lady Alessandra and I’m Lord Ovidious,” he whispered in his usual voice.

Aerisif had an inkling of what was going on now. “And where are the real Lady Alessandra and Lord Ovidious?”

“Halfway to Falkreath, probably. Their driver wasn’t very intelligent.”

Delvin hopped down from his seat to open the door. He swung it open and bowed deeply. Aerisif raised her chin snobbishly, playing her part, but winked at Delvin as she passed by.

“Remember the plan,” Brynjolf whispered.

“You remember the damned plan, boss,” he hissed.

A guard walked up to them, clearly suspicious. “This party is only for invited guests. Show your invitation or leave immediately.”

Brynjolf puffed up his chest. “There’s no need to be so rude, sir. You’ll find our invitations here, certainly matching the names on your list.”

The guard took the invitations and inspected them closely. He glanced up at Brynjolf and Aerisif, then back down at the invitations and the list.

“My sincerest apologies, Lord Ovidious, Lady Alessandra.” he nodded to them each. “You were simply not what I was expecting.”

“Well you mist simply raise your expectations when it comes to Imperial nobility,” Brynjolf huffed and snatched the invitations back. “I will be informing our hostess of your behavior.” He sniffed and took Aerisif by the arm and lead her up the path to the stead looming above them.

Black-Briar Lodge.

“Have you ever been in here before?” He whispered to her as they approached the lodge.

“Not by invitation, or through the front door.” she whispered back. “You?”

He chuckled softly. “Same.”

They arrived at the front door and showed their invitations again. A servant bowed low as she greeted the pair of supposed nobles. They walked through the threshold.

As one would have expected, Maven threw an elegant party. There were finely dressed servants placed strategically throughout the home, with trays of food and drink for her guests. A talented bard strummed quietly in the corner. The guests were extravagantly dressed, representing Tamriel’s finest.

The bard in the corner began to play a dancing tune. Brynjolf turned to Aerisif.

“May I have this dance, Lady Alessandra?”

She smiled at him. “You may, Lord, Ovidious.”

He took her hand and placed his other at the small of her back, pulling her close to him. Aerisif closed her eyes and breathed in the closeness. Together they swayed and danced around the room.

“Keep your eye out for an old Breton.” Brynjolf muttered. “She’ll be wearing a purple hat.”

Aerisif smiled and kept dancing, eyes scanning the room for their mark. Her eyes found a different figure, who was less pleased at their appearance.

“Uhh, Lord Ovidious?”

“Yes, My Lady?”

“Was our gracious hostess informed of our appearance this evening?”

“Nay, she was not.”

Maven had pulled aside the servant who greeted them and was whispering angrily to her.

“And why, praytell, did we not inform her?”

Brynjolf whispered low and dropped the highborn accent. “Seemed better to ask for forgiveness than permission.” He carefully spun Aerisif away from where Maven stood with arms crossed.

The dance ended and Maven appeared. She smiled coldly at them. “Lord Ovidious, Lady Alessandra, I presume?”

Brynjolf bowed slightly. “At your service, My Lady—“

“Oh, cut the coyness, would you? I don’t know what you two are playing at, but if it in any way jeopardizes my business here, I’ll have your heads.”

Aerisif smiled sweetly. “Never fear, My Lady,” She spoke in the Cyrodilic affection. “We are simply here to enjoy your most glamorous party!”

Maven glared at her. Aerisif stared back. Someone called to Maven from the across the room, and Maven left them to attend to the matter. Brynjolf and Aerisif resumed dancing.

“Yeah, she’s mad.” Aerisif whispered to Brynjolf.

He chuckled softly in her ear. “Aye, but that’s half the fun.” He was close enough his stubble grazed Aerisif’s cheek.

“Purple hat!” She whispered urgently.

Across the grand hall, a stodgy, wrinkled old woman with a hideous purple hat sat down on a bench. She looked insignificant at first glance, but Aerisif’s trained eye easily saw why she was the mark.

“So, what’s the plan?” Aerisif whispered in Brynjolf’s ear.

“Plan? Lass, what makes you think I’ve got a plan?”

She pulled back and glared at him. “You’re joking.” She assessed his features. “You’re joking? Gods, I can’t tell.”

He winked and pulled her close. “Isn’t that why you love me, lass?”

Aerisif felt her heart thump at his embrace. She nuzzled close to Brynjolf, soaking in his scent. The bard began to play a faster tune, intended for a more lively dance. Aerisif and Brynjolf adjusted their steps accordingly.

“A heist for Heart’s Day,” she whispered in his ear. “You do love me.” She kissed his neck. They stepped in time, dancing around the room, spinning further and further from their starting place.

Brynjolf let out the softest moan he could manage under his breath. He twirled her away from him, then pulled her back close. “Do you remember the heist we pulled at that party in Bruma, lass?”

“It was similar circumstances to this, if I recall.”

“Excellent, then you’ll know exactly what to do!” Brynjolf smiled and suddenly dipped Aerisif low, so low that her back arched and her head tipped back.

Aerisif found herself staring at the upside down face of the purple hatted Breton. She looks even older up close! With a gliding hand, Aerisif pulled the heavy, multi-jeweled amulet off the neck of the crone.

And just as quickly as Aerisif had been dipped down, she was pulled back up by Brynjolf and twirled away.

“We have about three seconds before she realizes what we’ve done,” Brynjolf whispered as they both twirled toward the back door.

“Then let’s use them wisely,” Aerisif dug her fingers into Brynjolf’s hair and pulled him close, pressing her lips to his.

They used up a little more than three seconds.

“My amulet!” The crone warbled.

“Time to go,” Aerisif whispered. They pushed through the doors and into the night. The stables were a few paces away. Delvin stood there, with three horses ready to go.

“You got it, boss?”

Aerisif held up the shimmering amulet for him to see. Delvin whistled low.

“Imposters! Take them down!” The shout came from the mercenaries by the door.

“Let’s ride!”

All three jumped on their mounts and sped off into the night.

“Well lass, what did you think of your Heart’s Day adventure? Did you like my finery?” Brynjolf was back to his usual charming self.

Aerisif grinned. “A perfect Heart’s Day.” She looked him over again. “And I think you look rather dashing.”

“Well, don’t get used to it,” he smirked.

Aerisif grinned devilishly at him. “That’s okay, I prefer you in leather.”

Brynjolf’s eyes widened and glimmered, and he spurred his horse on faster. Aerisif laughed and urged her horse to follow.

Delvin scoffed. “Those two. You lot are a mess, you know that?” he called.

But Aerisif and Brynjolf were far ahead. They had some…business, to attend to.

#skyrim fanfic #OC: aerisif/kjolti #KMDA #f!dragonborn x brynjolf #heart's day #tes v #fluff #yeah I quoted frozen II #it was one of the funniest lines

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argisthebulwark · 2 years

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Hello anon who sent me a great msg about Feral Listener punching Maven after she threatened to call the Dark Brotherhood on them. I tried to edit the post but tumblr ate it so i’m just gonna put it here lol. below the cut, a few random scenes i think are very important and very funny.

“Count your days.” Maven hissed, the Listener just staring at her. “I have contact with the Dark Brotherhood. I will not stand for insults from a lowlife thief like you.”

“You’re going to contact the Brotherhood?” The Listener grinned and heard Cicero’s excited giggle behind them. “What are they going to do to me?”

“You’ll be strung up in the market as a warning for anyone who dares to cross me.” Brynjolf’s hand was on the Listener’s shoulder. They knew he didn’t want them to ruin the ties between the Guild and the Black-Briars, they were important for daily business and relations with the guards. “They’re bigger than ever. I hear they got a new leader that took out the last one. Ruthless.”

“Oh, did they?” The Listener goaded and Cicero continued snickering near the door. Maven’s eyes flicked over to the jester, her face wrinkling in annoyance.

“Brynjolf, I know the Guild is having a rough time but you’ve really lowered your standards.”

The Listener’s fist connected before Brynjolf got a chance to catch them. Maven was shrieking insults and threats while Cicero cackled in the background. Rage clouded everything, the Listener’s fist throbbing while Brynjolf dragged them from the room.

“You prepared to complete a contract on yourself?” Brynjolf muttered, hand still grabbing the back of the Listener’s armor. They drew a few looks from those in the tavern, Cicero still clapping his hands and congratulating the Listener.

“It was only a punch.” The Listener grumbled, wrenching free from his grasp. “She’ll either get over it or get a very big surprise.”

“You’re Dark Brotherhood?” Brynjolf asked, eyeing the two strangers standing in the Flagon. One was silent, staring intently at him. Their face was obscured by a heavy hood but there was no mistaking the armor. The other grinned in a way that made Brynjolf’s stomach drop, the jester’s outfit somehow more unsettling.

“Yes.” The figure responded. “I am the Listener.”

“Delvin informed us of Astrid’s passing. It’s a shame, but our ties with the Brotherhood don’t run deep.”

“We want to join you.” That was shocking. Brynjolf remained silent, mind already branching off into dozens of questions.

“How can you help our Guild?”

“We’re quiet.” The jester interrupted, holding a finger up to his lips. “Our jobs are basically the same thing! You take coins, we take lives!” He giggled, the other figure turning slightly to watch the jester. He looked up to them and Brynjolf got the feeling the jester followed this Listener figure. “Sneaky Cicero is loyal, and the Listener wants us to join.”

“What other skills do you have?”

“The Listener is oh so talented.” The jester danced around the Listener, grinning at Brynjolf. “They’re silent and stealthy. And Cicero can juggle!”

“He can pickpocket.” The Listener translated for Brynjolf. “Both of our Guilds need sustainable coin, partnering is a viable way for us both to survive.”

“Well, let’s test it out.” Brynjolf sighed, knowing it was going to be a long few weeks. “What do you know about Goldenglow Estate?”

“ Lass?” Cicero mimicked, head tilting. “Listener’s name is not lass.”

“It’s a term of endearment.” Brynjolf clarified, eyeing the way Cicero’s fingers loosened around his dagger. They’d had no trouble clearing out Goldenglow Estate and had begun to take regular jobs but the pair hadn’t garnered any trust with the rest of the thieves.

“Where are we going next?” The Listener interrupted, their voice harsh compared to Cicero’s.

“Some of us think you two need to take separate jobs.” Brynjolf began, Cicero’s brows already tightening. “Thieves don’t usually work in pairs unless it’s something big like a Jarl’s palace.”

“Loyal Cicero will not leave the Listener.” He growled, stabbing his dagger into the bar once more. “That is not what Keepers do.”

“We don’t split up.” The Listener clarified, their fingers covering Cicero’s. Brynjolf was still wary of the jester but the Listener never let him get out of line. “We stay together.”

#writing #thank u anon for the idea im sorry tumblr killed the vibes #brynjolf #cicero #skyrim

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curiousartemis · 4 years

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send me a ship: bryn x cal

@gaymingbinosaur also asked for this couple!! 😊 @mannimarco-and-the-homeboys did too but she changed her vote 👀 (cause I laughed about getting 3 Brynowen requests 😂)

who hogs the duvet

Neither. They snuggle in bed. It’s low key adorable.

who texts/rings to check how their day is going

Brynjolf. Cal either doesn’t answer or answers with emojis.

who’s the most creative when it comes to gifts

Brynjolf. Cal forgets to even get a gift half the time.

who gets up first in the morning

Canonically, they both have strange sleep schedules for obvious reasons (i.e. THIEVES). Brynjolf goes out more than Cal, however, so perhaps Brynjolf. And he’s very good at leaving even before Cal wakes up. They neither one of them enjoy good-byes.

who suggests new things in bed

Brynjolf. Carefully and hesitantly and after quite a bit of liquor.

who cries at movies

Neither. Cal makes fun of the sad scenes and Brynjolf snorts, trying not to laugh at his antics.

who gives unprompted massages

Cal. And Brynjolf is VERY PLEASANTLY SURPRISED and afraid to move, as if a cat’s just settled into his lap.

who fusses over the other when they’re sick

Neither fusses, but Brynjolf is the worrywart. But if Cal’s sick, he’s more likely to tease him than fuss over him. Cal’s a sweetheart when Bryn’s sick. “I should be sick more often,” Bryn jokes and Cal just sticks his tongue out at him and smiles, and Bryn wishes he weren’t so sick all of a sudden. Sigh.

who gets jealous easiest

Brynjolf would appear like the Dark Knight sliding out of the shadows if he ever caught someone flirting with Cal (especially if Cal clearly didn’t want to be flirted with).

who has the most embarrassing taste in music

Brynjolf’s older so it would have to be Brynjolf. Although Cal probably listens to a lot of EDM, so he gives him a run for his money.

who collects something unusual

Neither, though Brynjolf collects rare books and likes to drape their room in fancy rugs and blankets and pillows.

who takes the longest to get ready

Cal. Brynjolf is very haphazard about his appearance, which is all fine and good since he’s got that whole rugged thing going, but Cal has to be diligent about shaving and making sure his hair behaves, and he does pay somewhat attention to what clothes he pulls onto his body, but not much.

who is the most tidy and organised

They share a single room, so they both have to try and tidy up as much as possible. Brynjolf is exceptionally organized in the sense that he basically runs the guild, though Delvin and Vex help him as much as possible.

who gets most excited about the holidays

Neither, though if Brynjolf seems a little happier than usual, that’s how Cal knows he’s got something planned.

who is the big spoon/little spoon

Brynjolf is big spoon while Cal is little spoon, pretty much 100% of the time. That’s also pretty much how they sleep, though sometimes Cal turns and they face each other. Their bed is quite small.

who gets most competitive when playing games and/or sports

I don’t think either one’s competitive. Neither would play sports, either. Maybe Brynjolf did when young. Maybe he plays pick-up adult league soccer on Wednesday nights or something. That’s Cal’s movie night with the girls.

who starts the most arguments

They don’t argue much, but if they do argue, it’s about Cal’s desire for independence, even when that’s not exactly in the best interest for his safety. He says he’s not going to laze around the guild like a broken old horse while everyone else pulls their weigh; Brynjolf tells him that no one sees him like that; Cal says, like hell, they don’t, Brynjolf tells him to try and see reason; Cal says, So now I’m fucking unreasonable?

Everyone overhears and it’s extremely awkward.

who suggests that they buy a pet

There would be no suggestions; one of them would show up with some poor abandoned kitten or pupper and the other’s heart would melt.

what couple traditions they have

I like to think Brynjolf takes Cal out to dinner at least once a week because that’s just the sort of man he is, and Cal thinks it’s super embarrassing at first because he’s never been properly wooed before but he laughs it off.

Otherwise, there’s not a great deal of routine in their lives; the guild won’t allow for it.

what tv shows they watch together

Cal watches a lot of trashy reality TV, and Brynjolf makes fun of it at first, but he gets sucked in pretty quickly.

what other couple they hang out with

They don’t. Vex is ace/aro, Sapphire goes through partners like candy, and who knows what the hell is up with Delvin. Niruin dates occasionally, but he keeps to himself for the most part. But if they went out with anyone, it would be Niruin and his current girlfriend, whoever that might be.

how they spend time together as a couple

In the room -- talking, reading, having sex. On dates they usually do dinner and a stroll. If there’s a festival, they dance. Lots of drinking (they both like to drink).

who made the first move

Brynjolf asked Cal to dance, and when he kissed his hand, that was when Cal realized he really did like him back. But Cal kissed him first.

who brings flowers home

Neither; I’d say they’re not really flower guys, though they don’t dislike them.

who is the best cook

Brynjolf; it’s part of his wooing technique sometimes, though it doesn’t exactly work on Cal since Cal’s not a big eater.

#knightdawn #WAGHHH #that took forever #hahaha thank u!!#brynowen #brynjolf #calowen bright hair

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tes-trash-blog · 5 years

Text

Literally no one asked, but here’s a (relatively) short, mostly comprehensive list of my OCs:

Walks-Among-Adders: That’s not their birth name, but it’s a name they enjoy given their profession. They hunt Daedra, have an easygoing nature (for the most part), and they write often to their parents back in Black Marsh. One time they interrupted a ritual to summon Molag Bal by stabbing the Avatar of Coldharbour in the nuts. Somewhere in their 30s, and they don’t intend on settling down anytime soon. Travels with Cra’Shova; they’re damn near inseparable. Deep, dark green scales that fade to a lighter green on their torso and belly, two horns on each side of their head, and gold eyes that always have a joke behind them. Taller and more lithe than your average Argonian, and they’re very proud of their body. Prefers light armor.

Cra’Shova: An Alfiq with no fucks to give. She likes long walks on warm sands and scratching the moons out of anyone who tries to pet her. You’ll be hard pressed to find a more able magic user, and harder pressed to find someone who so thoroughly enjoys screwing with people. Travels alongside Adders because she enjoys their company and they know how to have a good time. No one really knows how old she is, but she has great-grandchildren. Used to be tawny with dark bengal stripes, but age has made her more white and grey. Sharp, witty green eyes.

Varulv Daywalker: A former werewolf, Varulv found a cure and a new life in the College of Winterhold. There he discovered his passion for magic and a genuine interest in history and theory. He has since become one of the premier experts on the Daedra. Mid-40s and a divorcee; his partner wanted to keep the wolf blood, and they separated over it. Onmund had a crush on him, but Varulv very politely turned him down. Eventually becomes Arch-Mage. Taller than average Nord, built like a bear and with a thick beard. Dirty blonde hair and blue eyes.

Ushnar: Just Ushnar. Don’t ask for his last name, as his clan only knows him as Dura. He left his clan to avoid a life of strict gender roles, and what would have been expected of him in that life. He has since carved out a life for himself, and has become an able warrior. Late 30s, and has a passing friendship with Adders. Briefly was involved with the Companions, but didn’t like how they only seemed to care about gold and glory. Went to the College to seek magical assistance for his transition. Strong build with deep black eyes and hair that’s always in a tight topknot. After his time with the College, he feels at ease in his body. Prefers heavy armor.

Amayn Moorfield: A mostly unassuming Breton who’s taken up with the Thieves Guild and the Dark Brotherhood. Has a crush on both Delvin and Vex. She makes a boast to try and impress both of them, and long story short, ends up gouging Mercer’s eyes out in a Dwemer ruin. Occasionally runs an assassination mission with Babette, and they make a girls’ day of it. The only person in Tamriel shorter than Cicero. Late 20s, stressed, and well dressed. Brown hair and eyes, soft in body, has a cute smile. Survives the betrayal at the Falkreath Sanctuary; she was out with Babette, grabbing ingredients for a celebratory dinner.

Imerae Orrawyn: A lifelong soldier in the Falmeri Army. A Snow Prince loyalist, she claimed the lives of at least a dozen Companions before the Battle of the Moesring, where her Prince met his end. In a desperate bid to save the Snow Prince and undo the events of the Return, she stole an Elder Scroll from the Dwemer. It didn’t go as planned. Technically over 4,000 years old, but it’s hard to tell her “actual” age. Skin as white as her hair, narrow build, and a strange face. Pale grey eyes and a wretched scar across the right side of her face, a reminder of Wuuthrad’s dreaded swing. Was forged into a Dragonborn in the currents of time.

Rulan Lolanir: A young Thalmor scout who ends up way over his head after an encounter with the last known Snow Elf in Nirn. From the Lilandril province, he was mostly raised by his mother, a winemaker. His father was a traveling merchant who was killed by an anti-Dominion rebel group in Skyrim. Shy, awkward, and suffers from impostor syndrome. He is a compassionate sort, and honestly thinks the Aldmeri Dominion is trying to do good. He’s wrong of course. Early 20s. Gold-green eyes and light brown hair, a narrow build but is strong enough. Can’t grow a mustache to save his life. Small scar on his chin from when he was a boy.

Valano Faleni: Rulan’s partner and tutor of sorts for the young scout. The great nephew of Athellor, the one who brought the Snow Prince’s armor from Solstheim. One of the few in Tamriel who can read Dwemeri, Falmeri, and Ayleidoon. A calm, cheery smile on his face hides a great deal. He sometimes speaks of his son, a shy boy who was taken prisoner by a Nord squadron during the Great War. By the time their outpost was broken, his boy was shattered and spent his last breaths begging for death. Somewhere in his hundreds. Pale gold eyes and white hair, taller than average and thin. Knows exactly what the Dominion is about, and wholeheartedly supports their means and their ends.

Clesdia: Born in Hammerfell and a traveler of Tamriel, she is my least fleshed out character as she is meant to be my first TES VI hero and I know next to nothing about the game. She is an expert swordswoman, and takes Sword Singing very literally.

She sings, is what I’m getting at. Dual wields scimitars, and to watch her martial combat is almost like watching a dance. Fancies herself an artist, and her blades are her muses. Dark skin and tightly braided hair, with bright eyes and a sharp face. Has a scar on her left cheek from her first duel to the death. Average height for a Redguard woman, with strong legs and arms. Gymnast build, wears silks under her armor because she likes how it feels.

Elfo: No one knows where Elfo came from, or if he’s even an Elf. Clad in armor from top to bottom, no one has ever seen his face, but this strange amnesiac is an unstoppable force. Even with all his strength and weird luck in battle, he’s never taken a life. Stormcloaks hate him, the Imperials fear him, and the Thalmor can’t get a hold of this enigmatic idiot even when he walks straight into a trap. Paralysis magic does nothing to him, and swords break should they impact him. The only thing about him that can be hurt is his feelings. Tall, very tall, wears exclusively heavy plate, and cries when he sees a dragon in flight.

Hermaeus Mora himself tried to delve into Elfo’s mind to reveal his secrets and unlock the mystery. The Daedric Prince of Knowledge found a blueberry muffin.

#excuse me that's my emotional support bullshit #keep in mind that all of these characters have at least a three page backstory #some (or most) of which is never revealed in any of my fanfics #because I AM A PEDANTIC ASSHOLE #as much as i am An Actual Dumbass #the exception is clesdia who is mostly a blank slate #as i need the context of TES VI to fully realize her and get her voice #after all people do not grow in a vaccuum #but i am very sold on her being an artist of sorts #but like WHAT'S HER MOTIVATION #this is a short list? one may ask #and my answer is yes #i'm not kidding when i say there's a three page backstory for these guys minimum #i got family names #relatives #all that shit #my ocs #the trash talks

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