7 Works by mirefaun
Listing Works
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Summary
Brynjolf tilts his head slightly, studying the chat like he can see straight through it. That cheshire grin returns in earnest, a baring of canines that would look hungry on anyone else’s face, but Brynjolf holds all the feline charm of a cat playing with a mouse; all the time in the world, and his to spend. “Aye, alright,” Brynjolf taps a finger against his mug, thinking. “We’re gonna need proof, then.”
Halle stares at the screen in shock.
Brynjolf continues, completely unbothered, utterly casual, gaze fixed somewhere off to the side, likely reading the running commentary of those in attendance. “I mean, I’m curious now, lad..” Brynjolf continues on, circling the rim of the mug with a fingertip in a way that sends an immediate shiver down Halle’s spine - the way Brynjolf drops his voice conspiratorially only makes it worse. “Are we talking just jackets, here? No? How about collars? Muzzles? All of the above? Indulge me.”
And Halle does.
Series
- Part 2 of honeyed words.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 6,712
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Hits:
- 66
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Summary
The opposite end of the blinds dipped as Staci Pratt peeked out at the parking lot. His face screwed up with confusion, head tilting to the side like things made more sense from that angle. “You sure that’s the new guy?” Staci glanced at her from the corner of his eye, only to spot Hudson rolling hers in response.
“He’s wearing the uniform, dumbass. What, you think he’s wearin’ a Halloween costume mid-July?”
“No, jackass. It’s just.. well, he looks like my gramps.”Series
- Part 1 of canary song.
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Summary
The words choke out. “After everything I’ve given you! My devotion. My time. My—”
He cuts himself off, breathing ragged.
“Please,” John whispers, and the word sounds foreign in his mouth, keening, the taste bitter.
The radio remains silent.Series
- Part 2 of canary song.
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Summary
John was pacing when he said it.
Not casually. Not like a joke. He said it the way he recited scripture, reverent, hungry, already half-lost in the vision he was painting, blue eyes glazed over with the rapture of it.
“I could carve it into you,” he murmured over the radio, voice low and trembling at the edges. “My name. Not deep! Just.. enough. A reminder. Of you being something that belongs to me.”
Series
- Part 3 of canary song.
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Summary
“I’m a bartender.” Are the first words that come out of Halle’s mouth, before he can stop himself.
“And?” Talen-jei inquires, spreading his palms. “So am I. It’s not so different.”
“I’ve never made a coffee in my life that tasted better than ‘good enough.’”
Talen-jei rubs the side of his jaw at that, rolling his shoulders in a what can you do? sort of gesture. “Well, you will.”
It’s quiet in the cafe.
“Thank you?” Halle tries.
“Thank you.” Talen-jei returns, leaning back in his chair. “I know it’s probably not what you expected..”
“No, no, it’s alright, it’s fine!”
Talen-jei holds up a clawed finger to cut him off. “To our credit, the Bee & Barb, it was a tavern. Previously.”
Series
- Part 1 of honeyed words.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 4,719
- Chapters:
- 1/?
- Kudos:
- 5
- Hits:
- 46
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you know where to find me, and i know where to look. by mirefaun
Fandoms: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
12 Feb 2026
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Summary
“..Pardon.”
The low voice directly behind Brynjolf startles him, usually deft fingers slipping from the neck of a faux cure-all as he spooks. The bottle tips, rolling off the stand’s display shelf – only to be caught an inch from shattering into a thousand shards as Brynjolf dives over the side of the stall for it. A massive hand, calloused with the knuckles scarred silver by years-old injuries, cradles it gently, as if the flask was as fragile as an egg.
Brynjolf looked up.
“Mara’s ever-loving–” Brynjolf takes a step back into the shelter of the stall, craning his head back, then back further as the other figure straightens up. “Either this city’s finally starting to get to me, or you’re the tallest thing to walk into Riften since the city wall.”
Series
- Part 1 of luck of the draw.
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Summary
Meg, that was likely short for Megan, right? Or maybe Margaret?
Did only her friends call her Meg, or did she hate the formality of her full name?
Did she always braid her hair this way, or was it simply easier to manage as it continued to grow, no hairdressers to be found in this endless fog?
Was she a vain person, to put thought behind her appearance when her life was on the line, or was it practicality, to keep loose strands from falling into her field of view as she ran for her life?
He had so many questions - and answers with this one were as fleeting as she was in chase, Meg being one of few quarries that continued to evade him. The slightest excited inhale from him just as she was within arm's reach sent her darting away from the swift bite of his knife like a rabbit - he'd only nicked her in their last dance, and that just wasn't fair to her when she played her part in the hunt so flawlessly.
This early in the first act, he had more than enough time to impress her.