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joshusten · 5 months

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honeysuckle (guy/honey, redacted audios)

Guy is having not-so-wholesome thoughts about his recently turned roommate-to-lover.

NSFW CONTENT!! (minors dni pls!)

(suggestive, making out, dirty thoughts, implied sexual content at the end)

3.2k+ words [ao3 link] [masterlist]

[cw/notes: idk man guy is horny and theres a lot of horny stuff but it's not SUPER explicit (i think) and plsplsss im asking for feedback bc this is the first time writing something this suggestive hope u enjoy!! OH also as always theres probably grammatical errors and guy might be OOC]

A HUGEEE thank you to the wonderful @slushiepizza for all the amazing suggestions and support throughout writing this fic!! this rlly would not be finished without ur help thank you for ur service in providing quality guy/honey content SHAKING U RN ILY!!!

Guy is a daydreamer.

Ask anyone who knows him, from his grade school teachers to his apartment neighbors, and they can attest that Guy never seems to run out of topics to talk about. Never a dull moment, much less a dull idea to mull over when he’s around.

In fact, his imagination is something he prides himself in. After all, as an aspiring writer, it’s what gives the very soul of all of the stories he wants to share with the world—whether it’s the exciting plot of a potential novel he has been writing (and rewriting) all night throughout the week or an epic fantasy he was able to make up on the top of his head and narrate to the kids by the playground of the middle-school he makes deliveries to.

Guy is a daydreamer.

And it might be the very trait that would be the root of his current predicament.

Slow hands, languid movements

“Does this feel good, Honey?”

Heavy breaths, sharp gasps

“You can get r-rougher, babe. I can take it…”

Warm bodies, warmer lips

“M-mhm, Guy…”

Fuck. Their lips…

“Guy?”

Fuck.

“Guy!”

Fuck.

“Hello? Earth to Guy? You with us, buddy?”

Shit. Fuck. Fucking shit.

“Wh-wha-what? H-hi! Yeah, of course I am. I am here. On the earth. Present. With you guys,” Guy cleared his throat awkwardly after seeing the unconvinced, deadpan looks on his co-workers' faces. Rosa specifically had her brow raised in suspicion to which Guy responded with a nervous smile. “Uh, what’s up?”

“What’s up,” The woman repeated, “Is your constant staring into space! You almost burned the dough if it weren’t for me keeping an eye on you! I’m used to your head in another world but you’ve barely said a word for the past few hours!” The others nodded in agreement.

Rosa's hard eyes softened, “Is everything okay with you? Something botherin’ you or what?”

Right. Dough. Pizza. He’s making pizza. He’s kneading dough. The flour clinging to his hands suddenly felt heavier, the scent of basil overwhelmed his nose and the chattering of the customers increased in volume but that meant that everything was starting to make sense. He took in his surroundings, which were quickly clearing up for him, to finally decipher that he was still in Max’s, in the kitchen and it was still his shift.

Definitely not with his recent roommate-to-lover and definitely not in their dimmed bedroom, straddling them on their bed with a delightfully sinful expression painted on their face as his shaky hands slowly creep up between their—

Oh my god.

The very thought of them already leaves Guy's legs feeling like jelly. These daydreams had been a problem for him for quite some time. It wasn't like it was a crime to get all hot and bothered over his partner! Yet, lately, an unexplainable sense of shame builds inside him whenever his mind wanders to more…impure scenarios with them.

Because despite what anyone might think of him and how he jokes about it, he's a little scared of being intimate with someone—no—with Honey.

Oh fuck, someone asked him a question.

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine. Just a lil’ tired, I guess.”

And he isn’t lying, really. The fatigue of making pizzas and serving tables was no joke and, with all the very interesting fantasies occupying his mind, his shift slightly just got more difficult to get through than what he was used to. (Thank god he's not on delivery duty right now. He's self-aware enough to know he would get into an accident with his current situation)

His co-workers still looked suspicious but accepted his answer nonetheless, hurriedly going back to their tasks to avoid the wrath of their manager. The man let out a sigh of relief as he resumed his own tasks for the day.

As his grueling shift came closer to an end, he was more than ready to take the apron off and get the absolute fuck out of that kitchen.

—

Guy might actually be the first person in all of Dahlia to dread coming home to an apartment that he shared alongside his (literal!) dream partner who was waiting for him after a long, tiring day at work.

Honey, who was all bundled up in a blanket on the couch, paused the show playing on the T.V. to face their boyfriend and properly greet him, “Hey, welcome home. How’s work?”

“It was shit. Did you eat already?”

He saw them already heading their way to their small kitchen, reaching for something in the refrigerator. “Yeah, I left some for you in the fridge. We can heat it up if you want?”

“Nah, it’s okay. I ate back at the restaurant. What are you watchin’?” But before he could get a reply, Guy’s body stiffened when he felt a light shock from where Honey had suddenly touched his upper arm.

Light touches.

Heavy panting.

Hot air.

“Oh, f-fuck, Guy. Do that again, hon. Please. Don’t stop, don’t—”

“ —think I didn’t hear you, mister! What do you mean your day was shit?” If Honey had noticed their boyfriend flinching at the mere tap on his shoulder, they didn’t comment on it.

“U-uhm,” He coughed and shrugged lamely to hide his reaction. “Just the usual stuff.” The man put down all his stuff on the nearby coffee table. “C-can I just lay on your chest for a while? If it’s okay with you.”

Despite Honey’s aloofness, they can recognize when their partner is truly in need (And who could say no when their boyfriend’s usual chaotic self sounds so adorable being shy?) The gentleness in their gaze was enough to calm Guy’s frazzled mind, even just for a bit, before sitting on the sofa and patting on the empty spot beside them, albeit looking quite unsure on how to comfort him.

“C’mere. Do…do you wanna talk about it?"

Guy simply shakes his head before letting himself crash onto the couch and into his beloved's (with the second "e" pronounced!) welcoming arms—or, at least, what welcoming might look on Honey. He can feel the rigidness of their posture, remembering how awkward they can be with physical touch, yet here they are, going out of their comfort zone just to make sure he feels better.

It makes him guiltier to know why he was acting like this in the first place.

“Can you…talk about your day instead, Honey?”

They rolled their eyes with a fond smile, “Fine, but don’t think I’m letting go of it that easily, m’kay?”

As Honey recounts the events of their day (which honestly isn't much), their stiff demeanor eventually relaxed to the point where they were more comfortable with absentmindedly giving affection, unaware that they’d been playing with Guy's hair for the past few minutes. The gentle massages on his scalp were a much-needed distraction for his mind.

That is until he felt a sharp tug from Honey in an attempt to untangle their fingers between his messy locks.

Fistfuls of hair.

Skin on skin.

Arched backs.

"Fuck, keep doin’ that, Honey. Oh–”

“—shit! Sorry about that. Did I pull too hard?” Honey was already moving their fingers away from his head before Guy quickly (a little too quickly) halted the movement. Guy guided Honey’s hand back to its original place on his head, squeezing ever so slightly.

“No! It's okay, Honey. Just…keep it there.”

Honey gives him a knowing smirk, “You are acting so weird, you know that?”

“Just indulge in a poor man’s wishes, will you?” Guy dramatically lamented, really wanting to avoid the conversation and go back to relaxing and getting some rest.

“Whatever you say, man,” They replied, resuming from where they left off with their story.

As much as Guy would love to listen, his focus started wandering elsewhere as his mind drifted to sleep.

The ticks of the clock, the scent of Honey’s body wash, the number of their eyelashes.

The texture of Honey's soft blanket.

Messy sheets.

Desperate thrusts.

Sweat dripping.

"Oh god, G-Guy, I think–I think I'm g-gonna–"

"--come?"

"H-huh?" Guy hadn't realized how hard he was gripping the throw pillow on his lap. At this point, he’s going to expose himself one way or another if he keeps being out of it. He tried his best to compose himself, hiding his distress behind a laugh. "S-sorry, Honey. Could you repeat that?"

Honey did a face, softly chuckling for a bit, before repeating their question. "I said; 'I'm gonna go buy a gift for Ollie’s birthday tomorrow morning, do you wanna come? It’s your day off tomorrow, right?”

“Uh, y-yeah. Of course. I’d love to, Honey!”

Honey stared for what felt like forever before making a face again, this time, looking like they had just been enlightened by something and letting out a snort that was so adorable, Guy almost forgot why he was avoiding their gaze.

"Pfft– Guy, you—" Honey said through their stifled giggles (that was a tell-tale sign of the belly laughs they only share with him and no one else). They never got to finish the sentence, trying but, ultimately interrupting themselves with their own laughter.

He smiled, happy to see them show this much emotion towards him when to others they tend to be more closed off (albeit, a little confused about what caused it so suddenly). “I'm what, Honey? Hey! I'm what? Do I have something on my face?”

“You’re—pfft!”

Familiar playful slaps targeted his thighs with a faint sting he’s too far used to. He notices that their smile had their teeth showing, too busy laughing to cover it with their hand like they often do.

Guy’s crumbling.

He knew his desires were seeping through the cracks and it took all of his willpower to resist tackling them then and there—to feel every inch of their body and give them every last bit of pleasure they rightfully deserved. But he can't. He shouldn't.

So, he opts for a kiss on the cheek instead.

Something sweet enough to mask how hard his mind was reeling with overly aggressive affection. As he continued with his fleeting, featherlight attacks on Honey's face, his lips felt the smile that their mouth formed (accompanied by an out-of-breath “Guy, that tickles!”) and he found that pulling away was more difficult than he thought.

After a while of innocent pecks and bubbling snorts, Honey raised a hand to wipe a tear from their eye. They were looking directly at him now, eyes soft with their lips slightly parted and panting from laughing too hard.

Lips. Their lips.

“Guy, you good?”

A man can only have so much self-control before he breaks.

The next few moments felt like a blur. A hitched breath, a tightened grip. His lips hungrily meet theirs and the moan he immediately lets out was almost pathetic. But he couldn’t give a damn about anything other than the pleasurable weight grinding down on his crotch.

They felt so good. Everything felt so fucking good. The spinning in his mind paired with the aching throb of his cock were all too much to handle that he can’t even tell if this was real or if it was the same fantasies that had been torturing him all day.

No. It’s real. It’s all real.

Despite the haze in his surroundings—despite all the noise—the only thing occupying Guy’s thoughts were the whimpers coming out of Honey that were better than anything he could have ever dreamed of.

“Fuck,” He swore under his breath, the friction against his growing bulge breaking down any sense of sanity he had left. Guy squeezed their thigh a little harsher than intended, making Honey loudly moan out in surprise.

He took the opportunity to slip his tongue into their mouth, lapping up all the sounds he managed to coax out of them. Honey’s hands found their way to his hair, tugging like last time with more intent than before and it dragged out a needy whine from his throat muffled between their lips.

Unfortunately, the breathlessness he was experiencing isn't the same type he feels when he's around Honey and he remembered that humans do, in fact, need oxygen in their system. He pulled away from them for a quick breath, taking pleasure in how they desperately chased his lips with a soft whine, before immediately aiming at their jaw, sucking, licking, and biting skin as it trails down on their neck.

Honey is quick to respond, their fingers ghosting the hem of his work uniform before sliding them up, keeping his squirming body steady by grabbing his waist with one hand as the other roams to his chest, the shirt riding up with it and they feel his heartbeat speed up against his ribcage.

The sensation leaves Guy lightheaded. He swore he could see stars, especially after their warm palms stroked past a particular spot he didn’t even know he was sensitive to. The action had him writhing under the weight on his lap and Honey’s sudden thrust against his clothed dick brought out a stuttered gasp from him with his hips bucking up involuntarily.

“Shit, baby,” Honey whispered, the strain in their voice evident as they grind down harder just to hear Guy’s wanton moans one more time. “So fucking needy.”

Hot breaths.

Bare skin.

Intoxicating scents.

This felt like Deja vu.

Guy had seen this before. He dreamt of it so much that it felt like second nature for his body. During nights when his partner hadn’t been home yet and he was feeling oh so, lonely—so desperate. Nights when his imagination had gone truly wild, the same scenario that he had been replaying over and over again. The one where he would have them in a panting mess.

He vividly remembers what goes next. The movement is practiced—etched into his memory. Every bone, every nerve in his system practically has it memorized in its core.

He pins them on the arm of their sofa, the air is hot and heavy. One final passionate kiss, one final slip of his tongue, one final grind between their legs, and his hands would reach down, down where they needed him the most to—

“A-ah, Guy, w-wait!”

And just like that, Guy’s mind snaps back to reality.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

“I-it’s okay.”

“No, no, I’m really sorry. I–” He hurries to back away, pushing off his body and sitting upright with an arm’s distance away from an equally disheveled Honey. Fuck, they looked so pretty with their lips swollen like that. His eyes guiltily avoided the abundance of purple marks he wasn't even aware he left on their neck. Shit, focus! “I don’t know what came over me. I’m–”

“Guy, it’s okay, I like it!” Honey cuts him off, not allowing their boyfriend to give himself to blame for something that didn’t even need his apologies. “I like it a lot. I was just…worried. Ever since you came home you were acting kind of off and I don’t want you to go through with this when I feel like something’s bothering you.”

Honey reaches out to him with concerned eyes, which should probably be an indicator for Guy of how odd he has been acting as of late. Their fingers find his knuckles, gently tracing circles on them as they patiently wait for his response.

Guy never knew his heart could beat faster, given how…intimate their latest activities were, but here he is, out of breath and falling in love all over again.

“I-I know this is kinda weird and I’m being really weird and everything is weird right now but I…uhm. Well, I guess you were right about me being all bark but no bite after all, eh?” He cringes at the way his voice cracked at the end and clears his throat for the nth time today.

“Okay, what I’m trying to get to is that…I've…been thinking about you…in a not-so-wholesome way for a while now. And I know, I know, this isn't new. I've flirted with you before and you already said you were okay with it, even with the raunchier ones but I'm just…"

Guy nervously looks away to the side, his eyes downcast to avoid Honey's curious stare. "This feels like a whole new thing now that we’re actually together and it really means a lot to me. Us. You're actually one of the best things to ever come into my life and I don't want my lack of…keeping it in my pants…to make you uncomfortable. I’m sorry for not saying anything sooner."

The deafening silence that followed his vulnerable confession might possibly be one of the worst things he ever had to experience. Then, a sudden giggle tore through the tense atmosphere.

Honey was laughing again.

“I-I’m sorry I didn’t mean to laugh but w-was that the thing that’s been bothering you?”

They moved closer to their boyfriend, that's currently sporting a comically betrayed look on his face. “I've noticed your hard-on already, Guy. And don’t worry, I've been…thinking about you like that too for a while now.”

Guy wished nothing more than to get swallowed by the ground beneath him.

“I–What the fu–YOU—!” Guy sputtered, not quite sure if he should feel relieved or embarrassed at the moment but one thing stuck to his thoughts, Honey felt the same.

“Honeeeey! You can't just say that and—I can’t believe you would—! Oh, you have no idea how much I've been through today!”

“I'm sorry!” But their shit-eating grin says otherwise and Guy can't help not to get mad anymore with that face. “Besides, it was kinda cute seeing you all flustered for once. Serves you right, you brat.”

“Oh wow, I’m the brat in this situation? You…torment me and now you degrade me with such scornful slander?” The man places a hand on his chest melodramatically. “I’m heartbroken, Honey…and still hard!”

"Hm…Well, then," Honey's half-lidded gaze directs itself to Guy's lips. The sultry tone of their voice tickles his brain in the best way possible. "Do you want me to—"

Guy lets out a surprised squeak as his back suddenly hits their sofa with a forceful 'thump!' Their hand is placed on the side of his head, fingers twisting around his curls. The other found its way on his thumping chest, carefully sliding downwards at an antagonizing pace.

"—lend you a hand? After all, I must’ve been quite the headache for you, in more ways than one."

“Oh no,” Guy started, easily maneuvering their positions to have his partner on their back “No, no, no, you’ve been teasing me for far too long, Honey.”

“Let me," He drags his hips across theirs and he revels in the way Honey chokes on their breath. “Handle this. Is that alright with you, baby?” He wishes he could take a picture of this moment. Seeing them writhe under him was a sight he never wanted to forget.

Honey gulps before their lips form a nervously excited grin. Their pupils are blown wide in anticipation. "You better get to work then, Guy."

Then, they slowly lean towards Guy to whisper their next words to his burning ears, “And don’t worry about being rough, hon. I can take it.”

Guy is a daydreamer.

But no daydream can ever compare to the reality he's going to be experiencing right now.

#redacted audio #redacted asmr #redactedverse #redacted guy #redacted honey #redacted fanfic #suggestive #mdni #sten writes!#wow how long since i last used that tag

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emmavakarian-theirin · 4 months

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hiiiiiii i've fallen back into dragon age hell (origins, specifically) if anyone wants to DISCUSS things i am here

#(twirls hair) i think i'm falling for alistair all over again (sickos meme) yes... ha ha ha... YES....#and it's mostly through realising how there's lines that are just SO unprompted or have no build up with the context of the subject??#but obviously not in a bad writing way it's just *alistair* like #leliana: oh how i enjoyed the quiet of the chantry so i could contemplate and be at peace 😌 what about you alistair? 😊#alistair: i liked screaming #LIKE honestly why was the grand cleric trying to keep you #or even the dialogue when you're trying to talk to him about his history and he's like 'it's boring though :/'#so you tell him to make up interesting stuff and he suddenly says 'i have some interesting looking moles i can show you?' LIKE???#you are a sad strange big man and you have my love #BUT ANYWAY i'm having a moral dilemma over the most minor quest and have been staring at the same screen for like 30 minutes #and i know it's hard to see but sten looks so GOOD i'm shocked and thrilled i managed to get every mod i wanted to work... work

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heniareth · 1 month

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In Lothering

Chapter 4: We Are Not Islands

In which Astala concludes they need more friends, a stealing attempt goes awry, they do some jobs and are handed a sword. (I posted the chapter a LONG while ago but never got around to making the announcement, oopsie!)

Wordcount: 5.875

WARNINGS: - blood - mention of extracting an arrow - mention of starvation - mention of murder of a family, including the children

(Read on AO3)

Alistair was the first one she and Rascal met. He was carrying a bundle of what seemed to be fabric to the river, and almost dropped it when he saw them.

“Maker's breath, what happened!?”

“Darkspawn,” Astala said. “I'm-”

“Darkspawn!”

Alistair marched up to her with long strides. Astala’s muscles tensed almost involuntarily. Over Alistair’s approachable and sometimes goofy nature, it was hard to forget how tall and broad and human he was.

“Here!? Are they in the village? What were you thinking, taking them on alone?”

He was angry, he was frustrated. Astala found herself shrinking back.

“Please-”

“Are you hurt? Where are you hurt?” Alistair grabbed her shoulder.

Asala twisted out of his grasp and scrambled to get away from him. She dimly registered that she’d pulled her shoulders up to her ears, posture tense and ready to jump, and that Rascal was growling faintly at Alistair.

“Please,” she said quietly. “Stop shouting.”

#dragon age #dragon age origins #dao #da: origins #dragon age origins fanfiction #dragon age fanfiction #warden tabris #alistair #warden's mabari #female tabris #my ocs #my writings #astala tabris #rascal the mabari #sten of the beresaad #sten dragon age #alistair theirin

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sulky-valkyrie · 1 year

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Promot: Iron Bull corners Alistair in Skyhold with “we need to talk”, poor man is like “oh now, what did I do to Dorian *this* time?”

Then they sit down, Bull pulls out his unfinished first draft of report home “so how are you doing? How have you been? What’s up?”

“…what?”

“Look, the Arishok is asking how you, specifically you, have been. Oh and this is for you, he’s worried you don’t have anything decent to wear.”

hullo my darling! for @dadrunkwriting

They were nearing Val Firmin when The Iron Bull dropped a meaty hand on Alistair’s shoulder. “Need to talk to you.”

Oh dear, how did I fuck up with Dorian this time? Was this about that conversation last night? Maker, when did Dorian even have time to talk to Bull about it? It wasn’t even noon! “I- yes. Let’s do that. Privately?”

Bull snorted. “Guilty conscience? What did you do this time?” He motioned him to follow as he threaded his way through the marching troops to the outer edge.

“Oh you know, just exist.” Alistair smiled weakly at Bull’s back. “Whatever I did this time, I’ll fix it.”

“Always, Al.” He fished a tiny monocle out of his pocket - there was a little hook at the end that let him latch it to his eyepatch and rest it across his nose. “I just got some reports from the Arishok. And a package.” He cocked his head. “For you.”

Alistair blinked at him. “I know you were speaking Trade that whole time. I know it. But I have no idea what you just said.”

“It’s a scarf.”

“That is not making this make any more sense,” Alistair said heatedly. “You’re telling me that the head of the entire Qunari military has a message and a scarf for me?” He shook his head. “Did Sera put you up to this?”

Bull frowned thoughtfully for a moment, then started chuckling. “You don’t know.”

“Know what?”

“Who the Arishok is.”

Alistair squinted up at him. “Why would I? Your people literally don’t use names.” He paused as he remembered who he was speaking to. “Most of you, at least.”

“The Arishok,” Bull said patiently, “is a hornless qunari who was in Ferelden during the Fifth Blight. And he’s knitted you a scarf. Several scarves, in fact. I already passed Daylen and Zevran’s off to Red when I gave her hers.” He chuckled again. “I’ll let you give Morrigan the last one - I get the feeling she’d burn my eyes right out of my sockets if I tried.”

All of Alistair’s thoughts crashed to a halt and he stumbled. “Sten? Sten is the fucking Arishok?”

“Yes, and he’s worried you’re not warm enough.” Bull pulled out a woolen lump, then let two ends dangle down. Those were certainly scarves. In a rather elaborate pattern, with big holes and small ones all lined up to form the suggestion of pairs of wings. “And manual dexterity is important, therefore knitting is an acceptable hobby for a soldier.” He handed them over, adjusted his monocle, and pulled a few sheets of parchment out. “Now, let’s see: do you have enough socks?”

“I only lost them all once and that was ten bloody years ago! And while fording a river!”

Bull made a little mark on the page. “I’ll put that as a yes. Eating enough?”

Alistair rolled his eyes. “Maker take me, yes!”

“They do have a good spread in Skyhold.” He frowned down at the page. “Last question, but it’s outdated. ‘Did you tell Daylen he’s your kadan?’ Now, here’s the part where you shout ‘no’ at me indignantly, but is there anything else you’d like to add?”

“My . . .” Alistair trailed off. He didn’t know the word, but the way Bull said it was enough. “I suppose, just thank him for his concern?”

“You got it, Al.” Bull plucked one of the scarves from his hand and wound it around his throat. “Mission completed.”

#dragon age #da drunk writing circle #the iron bull #alistair #sten #prompt fills

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wipbigbang · 12 days

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WIP BIG BANG SIGN-UPS ARE LIVE!

The 2024 round of WIP Big Bang is now open for sign-ups! Any fandom is welcome, as long as the fic is 500 completed so far and will be at least 7,500 words upon its finishing. Signing up is easy: just fill out the form linked below after you read the FAQ and take a look at the schedule.

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cmkren · 6 months

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The Arishok and His Hero.

;Da2 Arishok x Fem!HoF

The Arishok and the HoF once had an intimate but complicated relationship from when he was a Sten. Tensions are rising in Kirkwall, and his mind subconsciously drifts to a simpler time. A time with her.

Unfortunately for him, there’s one thing he’s forgotten.

a/n: erm, whats up !! I remember struggling writing this because I always though the arishok had like … long hair. so when i figured out he didn’t i just made it a plot point to make things sadder. I am genuinely so sad we don’t get to romance sten in dao argh

also erm sorry got my lore wrong LMAO pretend this is an au where dao sten gets the arishok role immediately after returning

“Well looky you. You aged like fine wine, huh, Sten? Or— I suppose it’s the Arishok now.”

She snarked, a grin on her face but it seemed there was something else behind it. Something deeper, more complex than just two companions reuniting after a long time. That’s all they were, and had been to the outside world. Companions. They didn’t notice the looks, the gentle touches, the desire when one passed the other. Back in the day, that was. Now look at them. Having withered slightly with age.

Mishka had streaks of gray in her hair, though still looking relatively young. Not to mention the barrage of scars on her body— more than when the Arishok knew her. When he had still just been Sten. He changed the most between the two, after all. He was now the leader of the Qunari militia. His hair double the length it was back then, some graying too of course. Wrinkles finally showing up more, more apparent. Long, beautiful horns that Sten lacked back then. Horns she wanted to grab.

“The Hero of Ferelden came to visit. How delightful.” He spoke dryly, making the elf snort and cross her arms. She looked more Dalish now, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about it. Perhaps just a little amused, considering how she used to curse the Dalish as if they were Darkspawn themselves. Perhaps she made some amends with her past and moved on. That would be a first for Mishka. If she had many of those left. The Arishok certainly never expected to see her again, after their departure from one another. Especially after the final fight. Yet here she was.

He sat atop his throne, in the Qunari compound that they had to make due to the misfortune of being stuck in Kirkwall of all cities. Due to his mistake. The stress and tension that’d been building over the last few years, it felt like a pot was going to soon boil over. Being far from Val Pollen didn’t help either— because that meant no Tamassarans. So maybe… that’s why he didn’t call for the Stens around him to apprehend her as she sauntered towards the throne.

His stony stare digging holes into her, watching the familiar movement coming from a woman he used to hold quite close to his chest. Literally and figuratively. The Sten didn’t turn their heads. Maybe it was because he didn’t say anything, or it could have been another reason. He didn’t care. His eyes were only on her. The damned arrogant elf.

The Hero of Ferelden. Small enough for him to tower over, but not fragile that she’d shatter as soon as he put his hand on her waist and squeezed. Definitely not fragile, as she’s shown him dozens of times. That was just when she was starting to hone her skills too, he could only imagine what a decade of hard work and training could do for her. She who sat so languidly in his lap, calloused hand reaching up to caress his face. It made him jolt. That wasn’t the surprising bit. The surprising bit was the way he then keened, and leaned into her touch.

He took in her features. The gnarly burn mark that forever scarred the left side of her face, and travelling to her shoulder. A mark he took upon himself those years ago to heal until she no longer flinched and hissed when he traced his finger over the coarse skin.

Lips that whispered the filthiest things to him. That would spread into a grin when she finally started figuring out how to read him. How to tell what would rile him up and what would absolutely piss him off.

Her hand travelled higher until it tangled itself in his hair, her other hand on his chest. Eyes flitted half closed, looking up at him through long lashes. He who only leaned further down, hardly letting her be the one chasing after him. Instead, he was the one chasing after her. Her touch. Her words.

Her lips parted, putting on display the sharp points she called her teeth. Whenever she raked those across his skin, it felt like a dagger gliding along his body. Little daggers she had in her mouth. “You, Sten,” she breathed out, breath hot against own mouth. His lips parted just the slightest, as if he expected something. Anything.

“Are a useless fucking tool.”

Then there it was. Her hands fell limp. Her head knocked against his own, and the lively body that once sat perched on his lap became limp like a rag doll. The stench of death and charred flesh, the stench of something earthy and dank, the smell of Darkspawn blood.

The top of Fort Drakon. The Archdemon’s corpse on the ground. Next to it, the Hero of Ferelden. She was Grey Warden, to die killing the Archdemon was her purpose. He knew better than anyone— anyone that to stop her from fulfilling that purpose would have made him a hypocrite. So who was he, the man who followed the Qun to the T, who was he to deny her that privilege of purpose he devoted and spoke of? That’s why, while everyone rushed to her side to help fight the Archdemon, he stayed away. He wasn’t there when she drew her last breath. When she fulfilled her purpose.

What of his purpose?

As he stared at the Asala she returned to him. The weapon he killed for when he found out it was missing. For the first time in a while, after that fight. Her death. He questioned it. He questioned it all. The Qun. His life. His faiths. His purpose.

Suddenly, she appeared before him. The Archdemon looming from behind, its breath puffing out smoke with every breath it took. The sky a bewitching and venomous purple, Mishka’s lifeless eyes stared into his. “Tal-Vashoth. Your faith wavered. Your people should have thrown you out,” a storm brew above, “just like you did to me.”

A flash and a bang.

Then nothing.

When vision came to him once again, he was staring up at his tent. Surrounded by handmade, quality cushions all for the Arishok. His bed roll a mess, no doubt from him tossing and turning. His body slightly damp from sweat, as he pushed himself up and off the ground. Locks of hair falling in front of him, as he breathed in and out.

She was dead. She has been for ten years. That had been a figment of his imagination. Unbeknownst to him, it was the guilt that had been building up for a decade. Guess it finally spilled over during this time of high stress. He kneeled, quickly dressing himself and making himself look presentable. Anything to take his mind off of… that.

“Arishok. The diplomat from the Viscount has finally arrived.” Spoke a Sten outside his tent. The Arishok only grunted, right. He had visitors today. More to add to his migraine, he supposed. He slinked out of his tent, eyes squinting just the slightest as the sunlight hit his vision. His head throbbed. He could feel it, still feel her touch. The way she pulled on his hair, so close to the protruding horns adorned with gold bands.

“You know, you’d look absolutely dashing with long hair. I’ve always loved that look on men. Especially you.”

Spoken to him, by her during a drunken night. Oghren convinced her to drink with him, and that made her ten times the more honest than she usually was. Which was honestly a feat. There was certainly more to that memory, but he’d rather leave it untouched. The Arishok looked back to his tent. He supposed a change in his appearance wasn’t criminal.

•••

“What should I say, hm? Fenris, you know a bit of Qun right? C’mon, give me some phrases!”

“I’m afraid learning them right here right now when we’ve already entered the compound would be a bit of poor taste, Hawke. Should have asked me before we came.”

“D’awh, s’okay Hawke! Sure elfy there will gladly aid you in translating some of our delightful conversation topics of the day.”

“Careful— The elf might just end up with us gutted. You know how he is.”

Four pairs of eyes landed on him when he finally walked out. A blonde mage, a white haired elf, a dwarf with a cross bow, and a human. A human with..

“Speak. Now.” His voice came out as a rumble, perhaps with a little more animosity than needed. Yet he could not help it. He sliced off his hair moments before coming out so he wouldn’t have to have a constant reminder of that woman— and here another one was. With similar hair colour and skin, not to mention facial markings as well. And an arrogant little smirk on her face.

Even in death she found ways to piss him off.

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dareactions · 1 year

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This might be convoluted but please stay with me. Imagine: Warden is the Inquisitior. Don't ask me how, but they contact the Arishok (Sten from Origins), and he shows up at Skyhold. He still calls them Kadan. People's reactions to that. Especially Bull.

djwklae Sten calling me Kadan gave ME LIFE. my husband, love of my life. he holds my hand when i kill things w my blood magic <3 this is now canon to my warden!inquisitor, thanks

Iron Bull: There are moments in everyone's life when they see all the choices they've made laid out before them. To Bull, this is when the Arishok walks in and looks at the Inquisitor with fondness in his eyes, and the words 'kadan' leaves his lips. He isn't sure how to feel whatsoever, how the hell is he expected to feel? He just stands there with his mouth agape like a fucking idiot for ten minutes straight until he get spoken to. He needs alcohol, stat.

Cassandra: She is considering handing in her resignation, a little bit. There are only so many things she can handle and this is for sure not entirely one of them. What is she supposed to do beyond act polite? If the Inquisitor catches her glaring at them, that's her business.

Blackwall: I would love to write some really in-depth thing here but I think he literally just emotionally clocks out and calls it a day.

Dorian: Dorian is laughing his fucking ass off behind closed doors. He pats them on the shoulder and goes 'good job', because not everyone can score an Arishok- as a friend or lover for that matter. He keeps almost laughing every time he looks at Bull and he feels dreadful for it but it's so funny.

Sera: She feels a bit weird about it? Like the Qunari have always been a mixed back and apparently, the Inquisitor is like- in a relationship with one, right? That's what that means? She thinks, at least. The guy also looks intimidating enough that Sera knows better than to make any comments so she just stands there before deciding its very much not her problem.

Varric: He thought Hawke had questionable taste and now he has to write apology letters to them.

Vivienne: She doesn't even want to think about the political implications of this.Vivienne just keeps her mouth shut unless asked in which she still keeps her mouth shut. The Arishok is a frightening man and not someone she even wants to dare to comment on the relationship of if he is in the same building.

Cole: I honestly don't think the lil man cares. He is just happy they're happy!

Solas: Honestly, any thoughts he has is overshadowed by the amusement he feels when everyone freaks out a bit. Sure, it's not what he expected but- fair enough? It does make him question how the hell he is going to go forward with his other plans but he'll figure it out.

#sten #sten is the arishok always #solas #dragon age writing #dragon age inquisiton #dragon age companions #dragon age reacts #vivienne de fer #cole #sera #red jenny #dorian pavus #cassandra pentaghast #the iron bull #iron bull

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razrogue · 3 months

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WIP Whenever

Was tagged by @bhaalbaaby last week but had to wait until my headspace was better! TY for tagging me 🥰🧡

No obligation tagging: @meishuu @the-eldritch-it-gay @chocochipbiscuit @mightymizora @coldshrugs @commander-krios and anyone else who wants to do this!

I've been poking away at this and it'll be the next thing I post at some point, have some Briva & Sten:

Sten watched out the corner of his eye as Briva inched a little closer, not enough for them to touch but enough that she could feel his warmth. Much like she'd do some nights when he was keeping watch over the camp. Nights when the nightmares were too much so she'd forgo sleep and just keep watch with him. He'd never imagined that his life would be so impacted by the small elven woman standing beside him tonight. The rogue who'd lockpicked his cage in Lothering to set him free. Fuck the chantry she'd said as the lock fell to the ground and motioned for him to join them.

#Briva Tabris #Sten #Sten Dragon Age #Dragon Age Origins #DAO #Dragon Age #Tabris #Raz was tagged #razrogue writes #the pairing that will never be but will always carry love for each other 😊

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blossom-adventures · 5 months

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Just wrote a really soft moment between my Inquisitor and The Arishok/Sten and I’m just here like

#blossom rambles #blossom writes #dragon age #blossom’s oc rowan mac tir #dragon age sten

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reminiscentbelle · 4 days

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ughhhhhh once again thinking abt how joshua's character is written soooo badly in group cds UGHHHHH free him from the funny haha scenarios

lije literally the only dearv.o guy thats treated normally is like 2u. and reo i guess. a-tan maybe. like i understand its for teehee reasoms and not serious character studies and interactions but UGHHHHHH IT SUCKS FREE MY MEN!!

#judah too but i feel like his writing in his individual cds sucks too #they never know what to do with him #i say dumb shit!#dear.vo #likeee for judah they always repeat the same fucking scenarios for him #like let this bitch learn some lessons gawd damn!#ngl the person who gets the best writing is either mmc or a' (in the individual dramas) probably. not sure abt mmc or ciel since i don't li #sten to them but between everyone else a' for sure #joshua is. ok. he's kinda boring now.#reo has the same problems as judah (its the same everytime) but at least it's like. cute.#2u. he has good character progression i think. very natural. good writing on that front.#ok to add onto joshua i feel like they never carry on storylines from prev cds.#there is potential but no they just gotta add new stuff that will eventually get dropped anyways

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vakarians-babe · 1 year

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Chapter 39: Onward, Ever Onward

“Anything interesting?” This time, Morrigan doesn’t snap Flemeth’s grimoire shut immediately. Instead, when Talvinder stretches out on the ground next to her, the witch keeps the book open on her lap. This time, she answers Tali’s question.

“That depends on what you would call interesting.” It doesn’t escape Tali’s notice that the witch smiles ever so slightly. In fact, it makes Tali smile, too. In the days since they’ve left the Wilds, since they began travelling vaguely northward again, the air has become lighter, tensions smoothed over. If it weren’t for the Blight and the imminent risk of civil war and the death of the king, Tali might even think that things could pass for peaceful. She doesn’t think that, but she might.

“I don’t know a thing about magic,” she says, settling her arms underneath her head and looking toward the sky. A last burst of summer warmth fights against oncoming autumn, and the air is warm under the cloudless starry expanse of nighttime. “Everything about it is interesting to me.” Morrigan snorts at that. She’s in a fine mood not just because of Flemeth’s…handling, as it were, but also because this is the second night they’ve dined on the remnants of real food, recovered from a safely sealed cellar in an abandoned house. This is, coincidentally, also the second night Alistair has not been in charge of cooking. It’s enough to make a stone sentinel smile, having salt and bread again, mixed in the correct quantities, not burned.

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joshusten · 8 months

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bitter melon (guy/honey, redacted audios)

Honey got stood up on a date and Guy tried to save their night.

(pre-relationship, hurt/comfort, jealousy (hohohoho), slight misunderstanding, conflict between characters, making up, fluff) 4.6k+ words [ao3 link] [masterlist]

[cw/notes: insecurities, self-depreciating thoughts and a lil breakdown im sorry honey has some issues over here (projecting moment?), NOT PROOFREAD as always LMAOO

ALSO sadly guy isnt as silly (maybe really ooc) as he is most of the fic because he has Internal Conflict + i tried to make honey’s outfit and appearance as ambiguous as possible but i’m not sure how well i did with that ;---; so just keep that in mind! Idk how to feel about this fic ! i love it and i hate it LMAO]

"Oooh, what's got you all dressed up, roomie?"

It was the weekend—Kayla had just been picked up by her boyfriend, which had Guy realizing he and his favorite roommate had the place all to themselves for a few hours. As far as he recalled, he was off from work, and they hadn’t mentioned any errands to him for today. Perfect!

Guy had a bounce in his step as he arrived by the entrance to the room at the leftmost side of their shared apartment. He rapidly knocked at the door with a giddy “Hello?”, eagerly waiting for the response that he knew would always come.

Hm, which game should they play this time? Smash was always an option but he wouldn’t mind trying something new with them. They could even watch some random YouTube documentary again like they did last time. Or maybe he can finally muster up the courage to ask them if they want to hang out somewhere outside the apartment that isn’t for laundry or groceries.

He smiled to himself. Yeah, I’d like that. They can go to that new arcade that opened up nearby!

Before Guy can daydream more of sharing smiles in photo booths and frustratingly rigged crane games, the door opens to reveal the subject of his reverie, clad in clothing and accessories flashier than what they would typically wear. He got a whiff of a pleasant fragrance too and he realized that they must have put on a perfume of some kind.

Woah.

They looked…amazing. They've always looked amazing. He had thought that about his grumpy companion even before the pair got close. But, seeing them in anything other than their usual casualwear or pajamas was definitely a surprise.

The teasing amount of skin they had exposed didn’t go unnoticed by him, as well.

His roommate, by all means, was no prude. They even had their fair share of comebacks more vulgar than his flirts when they banter (Those particular interactions definitely do not keep him up at night, blushing and wide-eyed while he stares at the ceiling. Nope. Never.) This side of them, however, was something he’d never seen before until now. This side of how they present themselves with such boldness was new and he didn’t mind it at all.

The outfit looked good on them. Too good. A seductive dark top that very much complemented the tone of their skin, unbuttoned dangerously low enough to reveal the expanse of their collarbone that was adorned by a simple necklace.

Their shoes gave them more height too, slightly towering over Guy more than they already did before and forcing him to tilt his head up a little for their eyes to meet. The dizzying scent of their cologne paired with those pants that hugged their figure just right had his mind reeling. It was mortifying—how they had him in such a daze so easily.

Fuck.

Guy gulped nervously.

“You going out tonight with friends o–or something?” he frantically adds, suddenly aware of how much he was probably staring amidst his very appropriate train of thought about the person before him. Admittedly, the man was a little bummed that his plans to take them out first (Platonically, of course. How else would it be?) were off the table, though his interest had been piqued by what they were up to being dressed like that.

"Oh, uhm, no. I mean, yeah? Kinda? I'm…" They looked hesitant and a little…embarrassed? Well if it's something they don't want to share then he didn’t mind. Despite how much of a menace he is (with his roommate never failing to lovingly remind him of this), Guy wouldn’t want to force anything out of them, especially if it got them so uncharacteristically timid. He tends to forget such social cues, but he actively tries to improve and avoid being so pushy.

As he was about to reassure them that it was okay to not respond, they replied with a bashfulness that was unlikely of them, “I’m…going on a date.”

A date? With someone else? Romantically? He felt his grip on the door frame tighten, and a sharp pang shot through his heart, silencing his buzzing mind for a split second before managing to fake a curious smile.

“Oh? Who are they? Do I know them?” He liked to think he inquired them out of politeness, like a nosey friend pestering someone about their crush, but the thought of his roommate being alone with someone for the night leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. He had the need to asses this person, and determine if they really were worthy of their time—of them—for reasons he isn’t really sure of, it just felt like instinct.

Guy internally cringed. What the fuck does that mean? Why the hell is he thinking like this? Protective! He’s being protective, of course. Any friend would want to protect their friend with things like these! A love life is a huge factor in someone’s happiness after all, right? So he, as a friend, can definitely be wary if someone could be a potential risk of heartbreak for their friend.

Okay, if he thinks of the word ‘friend’ one more time he might actually lose it.

He needed a cold shower. Yeah! He just needs a nice cold shower to shock his brain and stop the weirdest fucking thoughts from ever forming, especially thoughts concerning his roommate that’s currently driving him crazy in every way possible.

“Ah, no, I don’t think so. He’s from my class.” They shrugged, looking to the side awkwardly. “I dont know, he just asked me out yesterday and I figured, ‘Why not?’”

Guy hands began to twitch involuntarily as his roommate smiled at themself, oblivious to the spiral that he was having. "My friends kept on saying I should try letting loose and going out more so I guess it’s about time.”

“Oh, uh, hope you enjoy, then.” God, he feels light-headed.

“Well, isn’t this a first. What, no witty remark? No innuendo about me finally ‘getting some’?” Guy fought the urge to grimace. Somehow those jokes would do nothing but sour his mood even more instead.

“Hey,” The man started, struggling to keep his voice steady. “Can’t I wish a friend good luck on their date?” Friend. The word felt worse and worse the more it festered in his mind. Yeah, that’s what they were. What they’ll ever be. Nothing more.

“Pfft, whatever, man.” The smirk grew wider on their lips. They seem really excited and he shamefully thinks it might make him vomit at how eager they are for this date. He should support them, right? Guy can see how his roommate tends to keep to themself most of the time, especially when Kayla’s with them. So seeing them go out of their comfort zone should have been a relief. He should be happy for them.

Whenever Guy was with them, being happy was easy. So why was he having such a hard time now?

Their grin dropped when they glanced at their watch with widened eyes. “Oh shit, I think I need to go.”

They opened their bedroom door and lifted up their arms from the side in a way to reveal more of what they were wearing. “How do I look?”

Yup, feeling dizzy again. Remember to breathe, Guy.

“Uh, yeah, y–you look great! Really.” Guy put on a strained smile. “Have fun, just don’t miss me too much, though. Might be unbecoming for your date.” He prays to god they don’t notice how his voice wavered at the end.

They rolled their eyes with a familiar chuckle that usually follows whenever he makes a joke, “Pfft, whatever.”

Waving him goodbye as they rush to the exit. “Don’t wait for me when you’re gonna eat dinner, by the way. I might be home late!” One last look on their watch had them walking faster. “Okaygottacatchthebusnowbye–!”

He heard the gentle click of the door shutting and the apartment felt lonelier than what he’s used to.

—

Tap, tap, tap.

“In old legends, tales long forgotten, the sea is often said to be unkind.

The sea’s temper is short, and his rage is felt through the angry swells of the water that eat sailors alive. His strength is tremendous, taking down the tallest of mountains and sinking whole countries with his surging claws. But most of all, his cruel waves do not discriminate, drowning both the wicked and the innocent altogether. He cares not for the last breath he takes from their lungs to fill with salt and water and death.

Despite his hostility, the sea yearns for the moon.

Whenever the moon came down to greet him like an old, treasured friend, the waters still. All is tranquil when the sky and the sea meet. The sea breeze is calm as the children play by the shore. The people were grateful, for the sea had fallen for the beauty in the sky.

But all good things never last.

The sea became selfish. He loathes the time when the moon eventually ascends to the abode of angels, their home. He loathes the loneliness that becomes of him when he can no longer feel the warmth of their glow. His loathing turns into wallowing in sorrow until he decides that he has had enough.

His calm waves suddenly grow with the intent to seize, to take, to keep the jewel of the night for himself. His desire for them to stay overflowed into his foolish actions that had done nothing but have the moon be victim to the harshness he had reserved for men.

The moon wept, and the sea received their tears. He had hurt them. He had hurt them in his act of love. They returned to the skies, burdened to carry the melancholy of a broken heart and the sea remains, afraid to cause more harm.

The moon never came down again.

His attempts to reconnect bear no fruit. A different kind of madness consumed him, wrapping around his very soul like how guilt wraps around the sinners. It’s God’s punishment, he deems, for his covetous ways. To chase for the sky but never touch the clouds, to stretch up to the heavens but never high enough.

He had realized that they could not be attained.

They will not come back for him.

Yet he continues to reach high above, hoping for the blessing of a god birthed by pity. To push his tides to the limit for a chance to be in the moon’s presence once more until the end of time.

It is all but a myth, ancient words that the people of the present cannot truly decipher, but all its messages share the same sentiment;

The sea is…”

“Hm.”

Tap, tap, tap.

“The sea is mysterious?”

“No, no, no…”

Tap, tap, tap.

“The sea is prideful?”

“Ugh, that doesn’t sound right either.”

Tap, tap, tap.

“The sea is spiteful?

Vitriolic?

Rancorous?”

The living room which was once filled with the constant stream of clicking laptop keys came to an abrupt halt. I give up. This whole ‘running away from your issues’ thing really isn’t working.

That same irritating pain still persisted. It was becoming less of an annoyance and more of a discomfort, aching to the point that Guy started to rub his chest a few times in an attempt to soothe it. What is up with me today? Even after the cold shower that he was sure would solve his current predicament, the feeling of unease still lingered.

He figured he might as well do the writing exercises that his professor had assigned a few days ago to distract himself yet it was of no help at all. In fact, it was just fueling the fire of these messy emotions that he had been feeling. His tired eyes closed, fingers circling his throbbing temples, as he racked his mind for something that would best fit the final line. I swear to god it’s at the tip of my tongue!

His mind snapped out of focus after hearing the noise of the door suddenly opening. He managed to haphazardly type a word to try out before it could escape his mind so that he could finally finish this troubling assignment that had opened more problems he had meant to solve.

The sound of heavy footsteps reached his ears and they burned, knowing full well who had just barged in. Speak of the devil. His roommate finally returned along with the sinking feeling in his ribs. They had gotten back from their date. Guy made sure to put on his most convincing smile.

“Hey, roomie! Back already? How was it?”

“Uh, yeah, hi.” They didn’t bother to look at him, ignoring his eager questions while they hastily set down the small bag they brought. Guy sees them navigate through the kitchen to fill up a glass of water and hungrily gulp it down. “I-is Kayla here?”

He frowned, shifting his body to face where they were in the kitchen. “Uh, no. She texted me that she was staying over with her boyfriend. Why?”

“Thank god.”

“Yeah, I know right? So, uh, how’s the date?”

No response came again, His roommate was seemingly distracted by whatever they were scrolling through on their phone but it was clear that they were purposely ignoring him.

“He-ey! I asked how the date was. Did something happen?” They were as timid as they were before. And like before, the unease in his gut grew.

“U-uhm, it was fine.” The man heard them murmur. Why were they so secretive? They seemed frazzled and they were doing that thing where they touched their cheeks to cover their face whenever they got warm because they were…flustered. Are they–? On that date, did they–? Did something happen like that between them and their date?

Unnoticed by his roommate, Guy’s eyes widened. The pain in his chest returned tenfold. This should’ve been a good thing. That means they had a great time. Why is he mad? Why does he get that sinking feeling? Why does he feel so spiteful about it?

“What, no juicy details? Oh, I get it. You’re keeping secrets from me! Not a kiss-and-tell typa person now, are we?”

Maybe it was stupid of him to prod, especially about the one thing that set this rollercoaster of confusing emotions in the first place. But he needs to know. What did they do? How was it? Did they like it— being with him instead of Guy?

They continued to ignore his lighthearted interrogations and Guy knew that he should’ve just dropped it at this point but something in him snapped all of a sudden. He isn’t sure if the agitation that built up had got to him but he couldn’t stop himself from blurting out his next words—harsher than intended.

“Hey, I'm not the selfish one over here who left me all alone inside at a weekend while they got to actually enjoy the night in some fancy restaurant or something. C’mon, spill!”

The lightness in his tone never left. In fact, to anyone else, it would’ve sounded like his usual playful nagging Both of them, however, noticed the shift in the direction of their conversation. (Since when was he one to provoke someone?) He’ll blame it on being in the heat of the moment for now. They understand he was just curious like that, right? All he was sure of was that he needed to know what happened. Why is he mad? Stop being mad. They didn’t do anything wrong.

He noticed their flinch far too late.

“I got stood up, Guy. Was that what you wanted to hear? Because, god forbid, I get to actually go out and do shit for myself!” The acidity of the way they said his name sent chills up to his spine. Their voice was eerily still, its coldness made Guy’s blood freeze. “Because I’m such a selfish asshole to enjoy things for once, right?”

“Oh.”

Oh fuck. He fucked up.

“Yeah, oh,” A dry chuckle left their quivering lips. “Can’t believe I fucking thought he would actually show up. Thought somebody wasn’t fucking around with me for once and I–” They abruptly stood up. The harsh scrape of the chair puts the whole room into an uncomfortable silence.

They weren’t flustered from the date, they were embarrassed. Humiliated. They had probably been waiting for that douchebag to show up only to receive false hope and pitying glances. And he just had to add insult to injury by being when he clearly should’ve just listened, should’ve stopped, should’ve comforted them. He can finally see the tears that began to stream down their face.

“It’s whatever. I’ll be in my room.”

“Fuck, I–I’m sorry. I didn’t know that he–”

But they had already slammed their bedroom door with a force that shook the place. Guy stayed sitting on the couch, all alone once more. Great, you just had to be a dick because of your stupid fucking…feelings about the thought of them spending their time with someone else!

He’s pathetic.

Here he was brooding over his roommate going out on a date only for whoever that moron was to throw away the fucking chance to spend time with them. But maybe he’s the bigger moron in this case. The guilt seeped into his bones and he felt them ache. What is going on with him? He was supposed to be there for them. To be a decent friend. But now, he just ruined their already shitty night more.

Truly pathetic.

His eyes darted to the last line he had typed on his laptop and he held his breath.

"The sea is a jealous being."

The lump in his throat became harder to swallow. He needs to make it up to them.

—

This is stupid. This is fucking stupid.

They should have never gone with it. They should have never accepted that asshole’s offer in the first place.

The faint sounds of an old TV series played from their phone, which had long been abandoned within patterned sheets, accompanied the figure that was currently trembling under the blankets. Stuttering, hiccuped gasps filled the room with a suffocating gloom. They think their hoarse throat couldn’t handle another broken sob to let out, having already cried every single last drop of their wallow out hours ago, their hot cheeks sticky from its tears.

It wasn’t like this was the first time something involving relationships didn’t work out with them. They were used to it. They should be used to it—being left out, avoided, and unwanted. (It’s just a stupid date, it wasn’t even meant to be serious. Why are you making it a big deal? Why are you so affected?)

Why are they so affected by this? What made them think they were all-so-suddenly desirable to someone? Why did they even think they had a shot at all this lovey-dovey shit in the first place?

Stupid, stupid, stupid. They’re shit with expressing their emotions and even shittier with dealing with them. Their outburst a while ago was a testament to that, shouting at Guy when he didn’t know any better. Maybe everything tonight was doomed from the start, then. They should’ve expected the hurt. Heartbreak was far from being a stranger to them at this point.

A tired groan came out of them again.

Tired. They’re so tired.

Hungry rumbles erupted from their stomach. Damn it. Thanks to their ‘date’, they weren’t able to eat. Fuck it. Waiting out until Guy’s in bed and sneaking out of their room to eat would probably be the best option. For now, they stay bundled in their bed—thoughts spiraling, head pounding, eyes swollen, and a heavy heart waiting for its pieces to be picked up again.

Then they’ll sleep it off like always. And then they’ll confront him about it, play it off like it’s another bad day so he’ll stop worrying because they know he will. Everything’s back to normal— they’ll apologize for the overreaction, he’ll joke about it and everybody goes on with their lives again.

Yeah. That could work.

Knock, knock!

“Hello?”

What the–? Ugh. For the love of–

“Hello? Roomie? You there?”

When they wanted to confront the roommate that they snapped at, they didn’t mean right now!

“What do you want, Guy?”

“Can you come out, please? It’s…important.”

They finally stood up from their blanket cocoon, hastily wiping the tears from their eyes to try and ‘shoo’ their roommate away. The door swung open, ready to put on their whole grumpy facade again. “Guy, I’m not really in the mood for–”

“Good evening, prestige customer! Your dinner awaits.”

What.

“Wha-- How did– When did you–?” Not giving any mind to Guy’s abominable impersonation of a British accent nor the messy scrawls of black ink on paper that vaguely resembles a mustache taped to his mouth, their eyes wander around the living room, confused and curious.

The atmosphere was completely different from the bleak apartment they had been enduring for months. Multicolored lights that they usually use for the holidays hung around the area, providing the dim room with enough light to give a dreamy ambiance. The small foldable table set they had for eating was moved to the middle, covered in what they remembered to be Guy’s freshly cleaned checkered blanket that they had just picked up from the laundry when they were doing errands.

On the table were some scented candles in mismatched glass containers, and two servings of a dish they couldn’t recognize. They even noticed faint jazzy music playing in the background to imitate the mood of a pretentiously lavish restaurant.

Overall, the decor clashed together horribly, yet despite that, they’d never seen the apartment so charming. The improvised set-up looks endearingly…cozy.

“Come, let me guide you to your table,” Guy, err, the waiter, dressed in a white longsleeved button-up and apron, led them to the center, pulling out a chair and tucking the napkin he had around the collar of their shirt. The man directed their attention to the ceramics containing what seemed to be their dinner this evening.

“Our main course that the chef has prepared for tonight is a creative twist of a classic European dish composed of a rich tomato-based sauce paired with a unique and innovative pasta shell shape, garnished with traditional Italian herbs and spices.” “Guy, that’s a bowl of SpagetthiOs with some dried basil sprinkled on top,”

“Shush! Don’t ruin the immersion. And I am not Guy! I’m a waiter! Ahem!” The totally legitimate server who is not their roommate coughed very un-fakely, before composing himself in a more very real professional stance (then again, that might actually be real, seeing that he also serves the tables at Max’s when he’s not out delivering).

“I believe your date has returned. A very dashing fellow if I do say so myself, consider yourself lucky!” Guy suddenly ducked down out of view (though they could very much see him all the same) removing the mustache and button-up to reveal a shirt with a tacky tuxedo print on it.

He stood up, fixed a few strands of his hair that stuck up from his sudden movement, and looked at the person in front of him with a beaming expression.

“Hey, honey! Just got back from the restroom. Wow! The food looks amazing!”

All ‘Honey’ could do was stare dumbfoundedly before covering their smiling mouth with a trembling hand. A small chuckle became a bemused giggle until eventually they were full-on belly-laughing.

“H-Honey? Really? Where did you even get that from? And what the hell are you w-wearing?” Their voice shook, unable to contain any semblance of composure. This whole situation felt like it was pulled straight from a rom-com.

Guy laughed with them as he sat down to his side of the table. “Oh, so you like it? The nickname…came to me naturally. Feel like it suits you a lot, seeing how sweet you are to me, right?”

Honey, huh? They wouldn’t mind him calling them that.

“Also, I don’t know what you’re talking about! I think I look the most classy I’ll ever be!”

“Well, I’m underdressed then.” Their laughter had died down, slowly processing everything going on, well, it made them want to cry. All of this, for them? It’s too much trouble to go through.

“Nah, you’re fine! And besides, you look pretty all the time—which by the way, is absolutely not fair! I’m supposed to be the hot roommate here!” He declared with a mock offended tone as he sassily put his hands on his hips. Honey hoped he wouldn’t notice how their cheeks burned at how casually he called them ‘pretty’, like it was second nature.

“Then again, I wouldn’t mind if you underdress some more, ehh–”

It was his comfortingly familiar lewd quips, something they didn’t realize they missed hearing, yet why did their eyes water instead? The sobs that they weren’t aware they had been keeping in broke their dam again. Their cheeks must’ve grown tired from their crying all night, but this time, these weren’t tears for some dickhead that ditched them.

The abrupt stop of laughter and panicked sputtering from Guy after hearing their croaky sniveling would have had Honey laughing if they weren’t already struggling to breathe from their convulsive crying. “Oh, fuck! Uh, okay, sorry! I’m sorry! Bad timing! I shouldn’t have joked–”

“No, no, Guy, I’m sorry I–” They let out a shaky breath. “Wh–why did you go through all the trouble for me? I-I snapped at you and I don’t–,” hands wildly gestured around their surroundings. “–deserve all of this! I don’t– I’m so sorry I–”

“Hey, no, don’t apologize. You deserve this, okay? If someone like Kayla gets to share a night with her boyfriend then you, out of all people, deserve to spend your weekend having a great time and I won’t let some jerk ruin that for you,” He looked at Honey in the eyes with a sincerity that involuntarily made them shiver.

It’s not often that Guy was this serious with them. It was only reserved for moments when it was late at night and their teasing and gossip turned into deeper talks about anything and everything. They forgot how intense the look in his pretty eyes could get, how it felt like he saw through them, through their very being.

“I’m…one of those jerks, too. I really shouldn’t have said those words to you. You’re not selfish or an asshole. Your date was the asshole for not showing up and that’s a reflection on him rather than yourself. I just sprouted out those stupid things because I was just…bitter that you had your own plans when I really didn’t have the right to be.” Among other things. He decided not to bring up the other messy emotional stuff in his head. It’s not what they need to hear right now. “I’m really sorry for pushing you. I…really hope that you can forgive me but I would understand if you won’t.”

“I forgive you, Guy. Thank you for… for all of this. It really means a lot.”

They shared a tender smile as they continued their chatting with their dinner. By the time they cleaned the dishes and put everything back in its original place, the pair plopped down on the soft cushions of their sofa. Guy shifted himself into a better position to face Honey.

“I’m surprisingly still not sleepy. What else do you wanna do for tonight?”

“Hm…Smash?”

“Honey! How scandalous! Take me out to dinner first! Oh, well technically, I already did, so I guess your wish is my command after all—Ow!”

“I meant the game, you freak!” --- THIS FIC TOOK SOOOOO LONG i was so close to giving it up BUT WE'RE HERE EYYYY also this was suppose to have a bonus scene but ehhhh idk where i was going with it rlly rlly hope you enjoyed ;--; i'm still not rlly happy with how i wrote this but there are some parts that i rlly like so i decided to post it HAHAHAHA feel free to give me feedback :DD and have a nc day/night!!

#redacted audio #redacted guy #redacted asmr #redactedverse #redacted honey #redacted fanfic #sten writes!#FINALLYYYYY #LIKE THIS TOOK SO LONG ITS NOT FUNNYYY #literally ruined my sleep sched BUT EYYY #i like the guy writing assignment part nyeheheh #haha get the title...bitter melon bc guy's bitter and green (with jealousy) hahahahha #thinking up the title took so long also i just thought that the word melon looks cute

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