this one is good boiiii

[hey this one is pretty sweet actually wtf. brynjolf is a slut tho but then again i would be for daewen i love her.]

It was late evening and the light in the Ragged Flagon was low, the only thing keeping it from being pitch black were the half melted candles dotted around the tables. The only sound coming from the drips falling from the ceiling, which can't be helped when you're living in sewer.. Vex was out on a job and Delvin had snuck off to Haelga's bunkhouse to help her practice her Dibellan arts. Tonilia and Vekel had retired early to their room just past the bookcase with the false back that concealed the Thieves Guild's main hideout from anyone who happened to make it through the Ratway.

Brynjolf was sitting alone, a half drunk tankard of mead in his hand and a piece of almost stale bread with a few nibble marks in it sitting on the table in front of him. He often sat in here alone, waiting for the one Delvin jokingly called his 'protege' to return from whatever she was doing.. As the days turned into weeks of staying up until the wee hours for no good reason, or so he thought, he realised that he only did so when she wasn't around. Which was often. And he hated that. And he hated that it got to him.

Daewen. Bosmer; moved to Skyrim after a falling out with her rich, snooty family back in Valenwood. She'd been in Skyrim for only a short while before joining the Guild but fell perfectly in line with him. The Guild became both friends and family to her. Brynjolf tried to keep her as close as he could, hoping one day she'd fall for him as much as he had for her. He often told Vex and Delvin to give her jobs closer to home so she'd return sooner. A few times the jobs had been quite scarce and she'd be sent off to Solitude or Markarth, anywhere on the other side of Skyrim, and Brynjolf would stare daggers into his fellow thieves eyes as they handed out her assignment.

He drained the last few drops of mead from his tankard, not bothering to get up and refill it. Just then, he thought he heard something behind him. He sat silently and listened for any more sounds but heard nothing. He relaxed again and began poking at the bread in front of him, debating whether he was desperate enough to eat it or not.

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Behind him the girl was silently sneaking up on him. The girl that Brynjolf had sat awake at night waiting for. The girl who had taken the Thieves Guild by storm and risen to the ranks of Guild Master all in a matter of months. Silently she'd entered the Cistern through the secret entrance in Riften's graveyard and made her way through the connecting tunnels into the Flagon. She held her breath as she approached him. She stood up to her full height right behind him, just as sneakily as she'd entered the room and slipped her hands in front of his face to cover his eyes.

"Guess who!" she giggled as he almost jumped out of his skin at her touch.

"Very funny, lass" Brynjolf replied, heart beating out of his chest, and not just because of the fright.

She sauntered around the table, grabbed one of the other chairs and pulled it over so she could sit beside him. She looked no different than when she'd left. Still in her same old skimpy leather armour that she'd modified from her guild master's uniform, not that he was complaining about the skimpiness of it. Still the same short, chocolate coloured hair that she always tried to tuck behind one ear but couldn't quite make it because it was the tiniest bit too short. Still the same lines of red warpaint drawn across her cheeks. She'd told him that she thought it made her look more fierce, which it didn't. Although she could kick some serious ass when she wanted to, she was far too short and pouty to ever be considered as fierce looking.

"What tales of dragon slaying and bandit killing do you have for me this time, lass?" he asked, actually longing to hear her stories just to hear her speak for a while. He noticed that her voice often flitted between that of a naughty schoolgirl and a sultry temptress, depending on the situation she was in. If she was recounting her recent adventures with the odd jester friend she often brought to the Flagon with her to the entire guild, commanding that they listen to her, it was the schoolgirl voice. If she wanted one of the merchants to give her a better price for some battered old weapon she'd pilfered from a bandit, the temptress. With Brynjolf, however, she spoke a lot more naturally. No personas, just herself. He liked that a lot. But maybe she could bring out that temptress voice a little more often around him. He wouldn't mind that all too much.

"Um..." she began, eyebrows furrowing, trying to think of anything she'd done since she was in Riften last. "Oh! I gotta show you something. See, I've been hanging out with the bards at the College in Solitude, real artsy those guys... and kinda weird. Anyway, one of them learnt tattoos! Look at this!" she jumped up from her chair and pulled her skirt down a little way to reveal a small tattoo on her left hip in the shape of the Shadowmark for 'guild'.

Brynjolf found it overwhelmingly attractive. He could feel his cheeks burning slightly. Before he could stop himself, he reached out and ran a finger across it. She shivered slightly at his cold touch and he recoiled, moving his hand away and trying to find something to do with it. He used it to move some hair out of his face, just so it was doing something other than spontaneously touching her. Daewen pulled her skirt back up and returned to her chair. He noticed after she sat down that her skirt was not up as far as it had been before and he couldn't help but keep peering down at it.

"So you approve, then?" she said, giggling at his reaction.

"Its.. well... Yeah, lass. It's nice" he stumbled over his words. Eyes continuing to drop down to where the small mark was sticking out above her belt.

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Daewen reached forward and grabbed his tankard from the table. She let out a disappointed groan when she saw it was empty and hopped up from her chair to get her own drink. Brynjolf watched her walk over to Vekel's bar and stand behind it, grab two bottles of mead from behind it and lean over it to pour them into the two tankards like a proper little barmaid. He moved from his own chair to one in front of the bar and took his drink from her.

He'd sat in this exact spot the first time she'd stepped into the Ragged Flagon. He remembered her waddling up to him in leather armour much to big for her, with cuts and scrapes covering the exposed parts of her olive skin.  and yelling "I was almost /killed/" in full view of the rest of the guild. He remembered she had much longer hair back then. It suited her perfectly, but he loved how she looked now. It was a lot more mature, sexier, even.

She was talking away to him about something or other but he was still lost in his imagination. His thoughts still clouded with images of the tattoo she'd just shown him. Imagining it without her pulling her skirt aside so that it could only just be seen. Daewen purposefully slammed her tankard down and folded her arms on the bar opposite him which pushed her breasts up a little, putting them directly in his view, snapping him back to reality.

"I thought that would get your attention" she breathed. He noted her tone. Why was she using the temptress voice with him? Was it finally about to go his way?

[spoilers, it was, i just didn't write it.]