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fullmoonandstar · 10 months ago

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Raphael going to a noble party of some kind, disguised as a human, in order to find and schmooze with current and potential clients. While engaging with one such individual who seems particularly taken with him, from across the room he spots Tav, for once not dressed in adventurer's gear but decorated with finery. The Hero of Baldur's Gate is so radiant that, at a glance, one could be forgiven for mistaking the mortal as an angel in disguise. However, like the cambion, Tav also has noble-born partygoers vying for the adventurer's attention, asking (and more often than not being granted) a dance with the hero, and perhaps gossip of nobles approaching the hero with dowry proposals and attempts at wooing this illustrious guest begin to reach the fiend's ears.

*Drops this and runs away*

Evening among Wolves

Raphael x afab!Reader Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3 Rating: R Word count: 2.4 k CW: 2nd person pov, vaginal sex, desk sex, mentions of drinking

My Masterlist

The dress pinched in all the wrong places, and you shifted your weight with a stiff smile plastered on your face. How did noble women survive a whole evening in these shoes? They forced your toes into an unnatural position, and the pain was slowly giving way to numbness. The young man across from you blatantly stared at every centimetre of exposed skin, and you looked away, a ball of emotion forming in your gut. There were only three things that were good about now, the elegant way your hair was pinned up, the smell of the perfume you had put on and the drink in your hand.

The woman next to you was only marginally at hiding her stares than the other son of a noble across from you. You had been swarmed the moment word had spread that the hero of Baldur’s Gate had arrived, and you have been stuck in conversations for what felt like an eternity. Any battlefield would be preferable to this pit of vipers. This may look like a party, but in reality this was a minefield, and you had to survive until the end of the night without being stuck in an arranged marriage or having started an all out war between the factions of nobility. Both of which were very real possibilities.

A shadow passed in the periphery of your vision and a warm hand hovered over your exposed back so close you could feel the warmth but not touching. A velvety voice purred in your ear: "Good to see you again, little mouse."

Your head snapped in his direction, and your eyes confirmed your ears. Raphael hovered over your shoulder, and he flashed a smile at you before turning to the irritated nobles.

"I hope you don’t mind, dearest lords and ladies, but we have some urgent business to attend to."

The nobles in the circle grumbled, and all eyes were on you. What was he doing? You looked up into the devil’s handsome face, one eyebrow raised with the same question as everyone else. This was a way out. These nobles were irrational in their whims, at least with Raphael you knew what you had to expect.

"Yes, of course," you smiled stiffly. Raphael gestured to the left and you followed. He left the ballroom into the hallway where the crowd was noticeably thinner, and you took a deep breath. The atmosphere in there had been suffocating you.

You followed Raphael around a corner and up some stairs.

"I don’t think we’re supposed to be here." you warned.

"Since when has that stopped you?" he shot back but smirked.

"Fair enough."

He stopped in front of a door, and you heard a click before Raphael pushed the door open. It looked like a library, but Raphael didn’t stop in the room but opened the door to the balcony. The lights of Baldur’s Gate lay beneath, and the sound of the party downstairs wafted up. You just had to smile at the view over your home. The citizens had worked hard to rebuild in the past year, and soon the city would be back to former glory.

You glanced to the side where Raphael was leaning on the baluster looking out over the city. The black clothes were embroidered with gold and red, and he looked the more like nobility than all the people downstairs. You had never told anyone about the way your stomach twists when you look at his face, they would call you mad and they would be right. Raphael was in the business of charming people out of their souls, and given the status he had risen to despite being half mortal, he was exceptionally good at it.

"If you stare at me any longer, you might burn a hole in my face." he taunts softly.

Your face instantly burned with embarrassment, and you focus on the city again.

"Do you know why I’m so effective at what I do, pet?" he asked.

Because you bamboozle people with your charm? You thought, but out loud you said: "You talk a lot."

A soft laugh tickled your ear and you stiffened. Your whole body tingled with how close he was to you, and you felt stupid for the warmth that spread between your legs.

"I know exactly what everyone wants."

His fingers ghost over the exposed skin of your arms, and you hold your breath, waiting for his skin to make contact. It never comes. Raphael takes a step back and motions for you to follow.

The balcony leads to other rooms on this floor, and Raphael opens the door to one of them. A huge desk dominates the room and the high-backed chair rounded out the ensemble.

"Fielding's office." You breathed. "What are we doing here?"

Raphael stepped closer to the monstrosity of a desk and turned to you. In the faint light that fell in through the windows you could only make out his sharp ever so slightly lighter than the darkness behind him.

"I told you, little mouse, I know what you want."

You crossed your arms.

"And what’s that?"

"Let me paint you a picture." - you rolled your eyes, but Raphael continues -"Lord Fielding, one of the most influential people in Baldur’s Gate since Baldurean himself. He swayed the election of Gortash to become Archduke, he orchestrated the embargo 5 years ago that cost countless lives in and around the city. He does his best to keep the weak where they are, poor and dying, and widens the gap between them and his elite."

"Isn’t that right up your lane?"

A chuckle reached your ear.

"This is not about me." he said. "You hate him."

You didn’t argue with that.

"You want to get back at Lord Fielding, but doing anything drastic could make you plenty of enemies and plunge the city into chaos for the next decades."

"The evil you know," you said.

"Yes."

"So, what is your suggestion?" you ask.

"You can’t move against him, but that doesn’t stop you from doing something disrespectful." You could hear the smirk in his voice, even if you could not see it.

"And what has that to do with you?"

"I’m going to participate."

With a step, he entered your personal space, the smell of his perfume, sweet and spicy, tickled more than just your nose. You wished you could blame the drinks for the wetness that pooled in your underwear, but alas you could not. His fingertips ghosted over your cheek and leaving a trail of heat.

"What do you say?" he asked.

You didn’t understand what he was saying, you were too focused on the feeling of his hot skin against yours. Blood was rushing in your ears and your heart hammered in your chest as if you were an adolescent again. You swallowed heavy.

"What kind of disrespectful thing do you mean?"

His face was close enough that you could see his eyebrow creep up his forehead. Raphael pushed the chair to the side. His hand gently held on to your hip, and you followed as he manoeuvred you to stand between him and the desk. You yelped and grabbed the fabric at his chest as he lifted you up onto the free space on the desk and his hips touched your knees, but Raphael didn’t force himself between your legs. His hands rested on the sides of your thighs. Your heart beat in your throat and a warm wave rolled over you.

"I see." you said. His thumbs gently rubbed over the fabric that still covered your legs and waited for your answer. Fucking on Fielding’s desk was indeed disrespectful, but doing it with Raphael?

Every nerve in your body tingled with awareness, the heat from his skin sank into yours and boiled your blood with a need you only ever allowed yourself to feel at night when you were alone. Something had to be deeply wrong with you that you were so attracted to him, but your mind had no part in the decision your body made. You crossed your hands behind his neck and pulled him in, crashing your lips together. For a heartbeat, Raphael was frozen in place and a flash of anxiety and disappointment rushed through you. In the next moment, his hips pushed between your knees, and you spread your legs for him. The half hard erection pressed against your clothed core, and you gasped, the perfect opportunity for Raphael to slid his tongue into your mouth. He explored your mouth, mapping it out as if he wanted to commit it to memory. Heat was rising in your veins, and you tangled the fingers of one hand in his soft hair while the other slid down. Ever since the first time you had seen him, you had wondered how his body would feel like. The lines on his face made him look like a middle-aged human, and you had expected him to be a bit soft, but the chest under your palm was firm muscles.

A sharp pain in your lower lip drew a yelp out of your throat. Raphael had nipped at your lip while pulling back.

"You’re quite handsy, little mouse."

He took half a step back, and you managed not to whine in disappointment.

"I’m not leaving." The taunting tone could not cover up the reassurance in his words.

In the dim light you could not see what he was doing, and you wished you could light a candle in here, but if anyone saw the flame flicker under the door, your time alone with the devil of your dreams would be cut short.

His hands were back on your thighs and his hips between your legs. Your hands landed on his chest, but this time hot skin met your palms. Your legs twitched in response, and Raphael smiled against your cheek before his mouth moved along your jaw, leaving a trail of hot kisses.

His hips pressed into you and wrapped your legs around his waist.

"Someone’s eager."

His breath fanned over your pulse point and a shudder shook your body.

"Yes," you admitted, earning you a growl from Raphael. He pushed the skirt of your dress up your thighs, removing a barrier of fabric from between you two. His mouth moves along your collarbone, and for the first time that evening you were thankful for the low neckline. The biting and sucking only tightened the coil of your need, and you wanted nothing more than have him inside you. Your hands ran down the hard muscles of his body, reaching the ham of his trousers, and gingerly proceeded further. You held your breath as you traced the outline of him through the fabric, your mind spinning with the half moan, half growl that escaped his throat.

"I got the message." he pressed out between his teeth, his hip twitching into your palm once.

His hands found your underwear, you lifted your hips, and he pulled them down your legs. You hoped he didn’t just drop them on the floor for someone to find in the morning. He slid between your thighs again and your hands were on his trousers, ready to push them down. Raphael didn’t stop you.

His length was heavy and hot in your hands. The world shrank to the size of the space between you two, even the sounds of the party downstairs faded, and his rugged breaths were the only things you could hear. You could not think. The only thing you wanted was him inside of you, and it was within your power to make that a reality. You guided the tip to your entrance, and Raphael inhaled sharply.

His hand cupped your cheek, and he breathed: "Who knew you were so needy, pet?"

A flash of fear ran through you. What if he left you right now?

"I’m going to give you everything you want."

He pushed in with a single hard thrust, and you gasped at the sudden stretch. His hands grabbed your breasts and his hips set a slow, harsh rhythm. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and you pressed your lips shut, trying not to make too much noise. Raphael’s hands kneaded your breasts just right, and you whimpered after a well-placed thrust, then his hands were gone. The thrusts cease coming, and he moves something behind you.

"What -?"

He pushed your back to the desk, and his strong hands loosened your legs from around his waist. His mouth left a trail of hot kisses from your knees to your ankles before holding, resting your legs against his body. The position made his length inside you feel even more of a tight fit, and he resumed his thrusts. Your nails scratched against the wood of the table, unable to do anything else while his hips collided with yours again and again. The pleasure in your body was like a kindling ready to ignite.

"Please." you breathed, not sure for what you were pleading.

Raphael chuckled and it sparked anger in you. You pushed your upper body up from the desk and snarled: "Don’t you dare laugh."

He planted a kiss on your ankle and let your legs fall open, leaning in until you felt his hot breath on your face.

"Don’t worry, my little mouse, I won’t tell anyone, you begged me to fuck you into oblivion."

You could only guess that there was a smirk on his face, and you let out a disapproving huff. He must have felt how close you were to just shoving him off you and leaving because his fingers slipped between your bodies and his lips caught yours in a heated kiss. His fingers stroked your sensitive clit in time with the stroke of his tongue, and his thrusts changed to a delicious angle. You moaned into his mouth, so close to breaking.

"You feel downright sinful, my dear, quivering around me."

His low voice made all the hairs on your body stand on edge. Your fingers grasp for him and your nails dig into his biceps. Your whole body tensed, so close.

"So strong, so powerful," he cooed, every thrust, every stroke of his fingers could be the one.

"But right now, you are mine, little mortal."

His breath fanned over your heated skin.

"Let go for me." he said, and you shattered.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #raphael x reader #raphael x tav #raphael the cambion #raphael bg3

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veterancoffeemaker · 6 months ago

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Hero: Do your worst, you won’t get a word from me!

Villain: Oh, don’t worry, I have ways of making people talk. Believe me, it always succeeds.

Hero: (Grins) Enjoy your arrogance while it lasts; from here your record is about to end.

Villain: Nice to see you’re so confident, but I’m afraid it won’t help—not when I have this! (Pulls out computer)

Hero: My laptop? You fiend! Breaking into my home and—

Villain: No, you just left it behind last time after your “heroic escape”.

Hero: W-well, you can’t log in! So what use is it?

Villain: Your password was “password1”, I’m already in… what else did you expect?

Hero: I… was kind of going for the “so obvious nobody would expect it” approach…

Villain: And look where that got you. Now… I’m afraid you’ll have to speak; otherwise, I’m afraid that, well… it would be a shame if any private information on this device happened to find its way online, no?

Hero: You may have my computer, but, unfortunately for you, I know there’s nothing of use on it.

Villain: Let’s see about that…

Hero: Try it, search every file, every part of my browsing history. I regularly check to make sure it’s all clear. I know you’ll find noth—

Villain: (Grinning) Ohhh, what’s this? Fanfiction and AO3? And you’re logged in?!? Well, well, well, what do we have here?

Hero: W-wait, I forgot to log out? Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Villain: Ha! Oh, this is gold! Everyone will find out that you’re actually… y-you’re… (eyes widen and mouth drops) you’re BendeeNoodlz17?!?

Hero: (blushing) I, uh…

Villain: You wrote that incredible Meloble ship fic for The Adventures of Glassy the Glass Glass?!??

Hero: You… you read it? And… y-you think it’s incredible…?

Villain: Well, uh… yes? I mean… from what you did, at least. Just given you never finished it and all.

Hero: I’ve been busy, okay? You’ve made sure of that…

Villain: Then you should’ve told me! I would’ve gladly put all this villainy stuff off for a few years—heck, even a decade—if it meant you’d finish it!

Hero: Seriously? That’s… hold on… are you Larlainy6?

Villain: (Blushing) That’s… how would you know that name?

Hero: You were the guy who always commented on every chapter with nothing but praise and encouragement! How could I forget?

Villain: Oh… r-really?

Hero: Yeah, some of them were seriously touching. Sometimes I even read them again as encouragement, motivating me to continue. I never thought they’d have been from… you…

Villain: W-well, it was a very good fic…

Hero: …

Villain: …

Hero: …

Villain: Let’s keep all this between us…

Hero: Agreed… but, uh, what about this whole… torture-interrogation thing?

Villain: … I’ll let you go if you promise to update the fic.

Hero: Deal.

#writing #fanfiction #hero and villain #villain #Ao3 #ao3 fanfic #hero x villain

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starspann · 2 years ago

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do you write for poly!matt & trey with reader? what about some smoke sesh hc’s?

YES?? OMG TY FOR REQUESTING THIS

smoking w/ matt and trey hc’s

matt stone x reader x trey parker

fem!reader, she/her pronouns are used

★☆✵☆★

warnings: smoking, cursing, suggestive themes

dating matt and trey and smoking with them <3

★☆✵☆★

an activity that you 3 frequently participate in

did it a lot together, before and after dating

sometimes you use a pipe, being that it’s yours, you light up and get first hit

when it does come to rolling, you tend to let matt or trey do it for the sole purpose of watching their fingers at work

watching the smoke leave their lips might be one of the hottest things ever

now when it comes to the entertainment,

you literally have to put up a fight to pick the movie

you’ll always end up choosing anyway,

and it’s always something stupid

think of an annoying, slapstick 90’s comedy, like the cable guy or billy madison

(not saying these r bad bc i lowkey adore them)

“oh my god.” trey gasps loudly

“what??” you reply, worry in your voice,

“this movie fucking sucks.”

earns him a good smack on the arm

“you fucking scared me!!”

i can imagine that trey is a little more energetic and talkative while matt lays back, a bit more tired and relaxed

doesn’t mean that matt isn’t talking though

in fact, they CANNOT shut up

actually impossible to have a few minutes of silence

it’s honestly cute watching them interact in such a state

giggling to each other and pointing at the tv screen and their surroundings like children

they piss themselves laughing with their dumb little inside jokes

you just sit there and observe with a smile on your face, joint in hand

“y/nnnn,” matt whines, sinking into the couch

“pass it over already, fuckin’ fiend over here..”

“shhh, shutup, c’mere—” you’d gesture him to come closer

yes, you shotgun the smoke into his mouth

and yes, trey gets super jealous and demands you do it with him too

matt leans into you and let’s you play with his hair, his hands,,

trey would rather have your hands under his shirt, gently raking your nails across his back— he likes the sensation

matt babbles on and on about random shit. he can barely get through one sentence without starting another story halfway.

trey gets cuddly, suddenly he’s never felt the touch of a human being before and needs to be all over you and matt

he definitely ends up sprawled out on top of you guys

his head in your lap, legs on top of matt’s, probably has his foot in his face

“ew! gross, dude.”

cue giddy chuckles from you and trey

“pssstt… y/n..” he whispered, looking up at you

you look down to see his blue, glossy, low-lidded eyes..

oh my god

trey notices the way you stare at him

“hi.” he says with a stupid smile on his face

“hey, baby.” you giggle

from behind you, matt’s hands find their way to your waist,

or were they there before?

smoke sesh quickly turns to a make out sesh

#matt stone x reader #trey parker x reader #doug remer x reader #joe cooper x reader #baseketball #baseketball x reader #doug remer #joe cooper #matt stone #trey parker

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athena-xox · 1 year ago

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All the known cards from the deck of instructions the Queen of Hearts gave Lizzie. 30/52

Worms speak, indeed they do,

but not to such as me and you.

All they ever say is “mud mud food,” so you need not listen good. Practice Not Listening to worms today. And by worms, I mean people.

Never ever ever ever ever ever ever ever admit there’s something you don’t know. Because you know everything.

You may have just forgotten

a piece of the everything. Also, don’t tell anyone you forgot.

A queen stands and shouts in hollow rooms when feeling faint,

for she is her own echo.

She is the thing that stands between

the been and the seen,

and pushes either side wide.

A queen stands for herself,

and by herself, and on her legs.

For legs are what make her stand.

But not four legs. Or forelegs.

She also stands for land. Her land. Wonderland. Without land, one wonders where one would stand. Especially queens.

In summary: Push. Shout. Stand. Be a queen.

It is better to be gloved than bearded, and better to be fearded than loved.

When in doubt, shout!

If you want something done right, you must do it yourself.

So make sure you personally order servants all by yourself to do what you want done.

A ship is only as floaty as its leakiest timber, and friends are the leakiest timber of all. Sail not on the Friend Ship, Lizzie,

lest you drown in an ocean of tears!

Already Been Chewed food (hereafter referred to as ABC food) can appear appetizing, but not for such as you. Eat no ABC food today.

Frogs are mostly faces. Notice a frog today and make a face.

ON WITH ITS HEAD!

:) JK. Behead something today!

Rugs are the unnatural spawn of Rabbits and Hugs. Beware rugs. (Could also be Rubber and Bugs. In any case, BEWARE RUGS!)

Worms NEED things. But a princess such as you ORDERS things. Today, put your things in order by ordering things to be what they are. And then, for fun, order them to be what they are not

Whether up or down, inside or out, it is yours. Own the down. Own the up.

A queen worrying about others is like a baker worried he’s making too many muffins.

As if there could be such a thing as

Too Many Muffins. Ha! WORRY NOT! AND EAT MORE MUFFINS!

Above all else, avoid these things: vats of poison, Jabberwocks, paper cuts on fingertips,

and Concern For Others.

If ever you detect Concern For Others squirming into you,

shout at people till the feeling goes away.

Or the people do.

Things are never lost to you; you are lost to them. If ever in need of a Thing that has lost you, simply stop hiding from it.

Beware Empathy! Empathy forces you to Understand how others are feeling and to Care! Danger! Danger!

Friends are one R away from fiends. Avoid friends at all costs!

Also anyone to whom the R does not come naturally (pirates are okay).

(A Wonderlandiful World)

Rule my way.

I’ll be watching.

(Lizzie Shuffles the Deck)

Everything has a place and should be put in it. That will be your job, since people, things, and in-betweens tend to forget their place.

Secrets are secrets and cannot be told. If anyone tells you a secret, they are lying. If anyone tells you a lie, they might be secreting. In either case, step away. Lies and secretions are to be avoided.

To succeed in life as a queen and princess, you need four things in your brain and two in your pocket. The pocket things are solid, and the brain things are not. Be sure not to mix them up.

Puddles are the thing you think is the thing, but is really the top of the thing, and the bottom makes you drown.

Hair hides skin, but hide can also be skin, especially if you have four legs. Count your legs and comb your hair.

Depending on where you live, a boot can be a foot case, a trunk case, or a preposition. Be sure you know where you are before getting dressed. When in doubt, go barefoot.

Never believe a lie. Unless it’s the truth—then go right ahead.

Fish love to be confused. Tell a fish a riddle today that has no answer.

Clouds are well and fine up in the sky, but never let one into your mind. Not even if it says “Please.”

Tomatoes are sneaky. They love to trick you into believing they are strawberries or cherries or apples. Before taking a bite, point at the thing and declare, “You are a tomato!” That’ll show ’em!

Yelling “Off with your head!” is a lot more fun than actually following through. Invest time in more pleasant pursuits, like croquet and competitive eating.

(Once Upon a Time)

If you want similar content links to the books, eah slang dictionary and more is here.

#lizzie hearts #ever after high #eah #a wonderlandiful world #cards

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classified-animations · 3 months ago

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I lied, anyway here's a quick comic for my au PRiF sorry if it's bad👍

(Don't mind how the acronym keeps changing)

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pepsiiwho · 2 months ago

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A bathtub Will/Basilio wip for the ppl, warning nsfw under the cut

“Right, move over—”

Will moves back, instinually making room before remembering where he was. “Basilio you can’t fit in here. I can hardly fit in here—”

The other man just scoffs, putting his toiletries down and squating. From here Will can see his entire body (still toned as it was yesterday, unfortunetly) and his eyes focus on the small towel sitting low on Basilio’s hips, looesly knotted and held in place by a fist. “It’s quite deep, I reckon. You stay where you are and I’ll just hop on top for a moment. No sense waffling”

“I cannot imagine this is easier then waiting for me to get out”

“You know I hate layin’ in me own filth, cap. It’s right nasty. Me and Del used to do this all the time, it’s hardly much bother. Saves hot water too, real efficent like.”

For the sake of your realtionship, I hope you didn’t do it like this. I hope he never looked at you the way I am.

Basilio has one leg in before he stops, looking at Will’s face. In a move that has to be on purpose, just to stab Will in the heart, Basilio frowns as his ears drop, just enough to be noticable “Oh… Sorry, Cap. I… I didn’t mean to impose none. Ignore me”

It’s like being critially hit, regret filling his chest in equal time as the pain of making Basilio, of all people, upset. And, if that wasn’t enough, his tail stops moving, dropping low. As if he hasn’t felt that enough. He grabs at Basilio’s wrist, softly, and pulls enough to stop his retreat. “No, I… You’re the one who’ll be cramped. Not me. If you don’t mind that, come on”

“Promise, won’t trouble me not one bit. I’ll be in and out don’t worry”

With that Basilio rips his towl off, dropping it outside the tub and sticks one long leg in the water. Will got an eyefull, his previous view of the dark forest lost to the beam of skin in front of him. Basilio was as handsome as ever, body worn and torn in such a way it resembled artistic rendering more then proof of violence. The paripus babbles on about something, it’s hard to focus with his cock hanging heavy between his legs as he lowered. How such a good looking man got around without disturbance was lost on Will.

“Me, Del and Lor–… Louis, used to take baths together in the infantry. Del hated staying in the water longer then he had too ‘cause he always fell alseep quick. Louis on the other hand, big bastard he is, he’d sit there and redo his hair every other minute, making sure it stayed out his eyes. They were so both so boring…” He says all this with a smile, slowly lathering himself with the soap bar.

[actual plot and writing here]

“Here?” Basilio whispers, stiffling a moan “Anyone could walk out—!”

“Like you did?” Will licks at the slippery bud, tasting the epsonsalts and flowers he’d poured in earlier. It was bitter, in the way all soap is, but the heat of Basilio’s chest almost makes it taste sweet. He leans in furthers, hands gripping Basilio’s submerged ass for purchase, fingers wandering between plush peaks.“Far as I’m concerned you asked for this”

Basilio grips onto Will’s hair, gasping. “Y-you—!”

Will sucks at the nipple, licking a still healing wound scar above the tip. He can’t help but pull at the bud, bitting softly. Basilio looks like a dream from here, soaking wet, covered in suds, his mouth wet as he tries to stop the noises. A deep flush covering his whole body, with his hair coming out of the quickly made bun he put up before joining the bath. “I’d be quiet if I were you. We’re right under the cockpit”

“You’re a dog captain, a r-right fiend—” Basilio keeps shuddering, sinking deeper into the water, trying to find purschase on Will’s slippery skin and when that fails, he moves to the

#metaphor refantazio #basilio magnus #willbas #baswilio #willio #will/basilio #my wriitng #the funnies

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fadingdaggerr · 2 years ago

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rose infusion - l.w.

pairing: (college) larissa weems x gn/fem!reader (reads more fem but no gendered terms/pronouns for r)

summary: larissa smoking weed for the first time with a “good friend” (and r practically foaming at the mouth over her the whole time)

warnings: marijuana use, smoking, shotgunning smoke for the plot, rolling tutorial, discussion of drug use, making out, references to drinking, friends to lovers <3

note: this was fun to write considering smoking is one of my very few talents /lh. i also based a lot of the background on stuff that’s i’ve done or seen when i lived on campus lol

after probably breaking several traffic laws, i finally got to my destination. amir’s house was up the street a little ways, but i desperately had to change my clothes. putting my car in park, i fling my upper half into the backseat in search of the spare clothes i left there to change into. after a delightful struggle to remove my work uniform of khakis and a black button up, i finally got my jeans and long sleeve on. the black converse sneakers could stay, they were only part of the uniform that i had any say in.

opening the glove compartment to my right, i fish around until my hand knocks against a heavy piece of metal and a sandwich bag. grinder, check. weed, check. i look in my middle console, blindly moving the napkins and random plastic utensils until i find my prize, slowly raising it out like a claw machine. baby blue lighter, check. papers were the only thing missing.

i drive up the road, praying they remembered, then clapping to myself when they did, i see the spot in the driveway they left open for me. once in park again, i grabbed the grey, oversized zip up from my backseat, wrapping it tightly around me as i began to make my way to the house. finally making it to the door, i open to a sea of people. dancing, talking, yelling, oddly dangerous making out on top of the oven, beer cans littering the floor, and loud music blasting through the speakers. this was definitely an ‘amir and co. party,’ as it had been coined by himself, and himself only.

i find him by the makeshift pong table, a bookcase that has been brought face down, balancing on milk crates placed at each corner. incredibly stupid, but inventive, so i let this one slide.

“oi, you got papers?” i say loudly as i stand to his left, trying to be heard over the music.

he yelps, “you scared the shit out of me, you god damn ghoul,” he sinks a ball into a cup, followed by a happy fist bump to his partner, tomas.

“nice one. now, papers?”

“nah. go check out back i’m sure one of them has a pack of ‘em. if you can’t find any, sneak to my room and use one of my glass pieces. i don’t need you cranky at my party,” he smiles to me, before groaning at mikal when he lands a ball in a cup.

“you’re the best,” i say, turning and walking towards the back porch. i had opened at work, and been asked to stay later, and i wanted, no needed, was to sit and smoke in peace.

i get outside, and find my usual smoking buddies. i greeted them, gladly accepting a hit off of one of their pipes. after asking, more like begging” for only one or two papers, i was gifted five little sheets, and a couple spare filters dominic had prepared before the party.

“if i wasn’t gay, i’d so kiss you for this,” i joke.

“if we’re both gay, does it cancel out?” he jokes back, and we talk back and forth for a bit. i move to sit down to finally roll for myself, my very own joint. all i had been thinking about since leaving work.

i put some weed in the grinder, turning and turning the cover. grabbing one of the papers, i gently fold it in half to create a crease for the bud to sit. just as i reach for the grinder, the seat next to me dips down. i almost made a comment telling them to get lost, thinking it was amir coming to fiend off of me. every cell in my body thanked me for looking before i spoke.

when i looked to see who sat next to me, i’m greeted by the greatest sight for sore eyes the gods have ever created. larissa weems. ever since freshman year move in day when i first spoke to her in the hallway, she’s been the only thing on my mind. we had somehow been in the same english class every semester for the last three years, and i always had admired her from afar. she was always top of the class, peer reviews showed her masterful writing, and sitting close to her let me see her kindness up close.

we had become friends. most of first year we were just ‘school friends’ mostly, only sharing the one class each semester and sitting close to each other. second year the ongoing classes together became funny coincidences, now sitting directly next to her and coming in early to talk with her in the longue. this year, third year, andrea started crushing on tomas, so they both were becoming frequent guests of amir’s house, and larissa and i would just sit and talk the whole time.

i took her in, still not used to her outside of a school setting, or with her hair down for that matter. she had her long legs covered by light blue jeans, a fitted, white university t-shirt, and a golden necklace with a sun pendant. she finally looked back at me, realizing she had sat with someone.

“oh, hey,” she said shyly, eyes only looking in mine for a second, like she was checking to see if i was bothered by her presence. i was most definitely not.

“hey, larissa. i didn’t know you’d be here tonight, how are you?” i pray to every god that could hear me that i sounded normal.

“i’m good, i guess. and i’m here because andrea dragged me here. tomas asked her to come by and she ‘had to say yes’ because finds him ‘yummy in eight languages.’ her words, not mine,” she shakes her head at the thought. i fake gag muttering ‘straight people’ with a shiver, making her bark out a laugh.

“i definitely wouldn’t word it that way, not even if i was held at gun point, but tomas is a sweetheart. andrea’s in good hands, a little stupid, but good,” she laughs at this, tomas wasn’t known for being the brightest student, but he was the kindest kid out there.

“anyways…” wanting to get away from the topic of andrea and her conquests, i change the subject. “you decided to join us here in the smoking lounge. can’t say i’m not surprised, you never mentioned that you smoked,” i say lightheartedly.

“i don’t. well, i guess it’s more that i haven’t. this is the first year i haven’t lived in a dorm since before high school. never really got the chance,” she looks almost embarrassed by her confession.

“that’s totally fine. did you… did you want to? you can smoke with me, if you want. if you don’t want to, you don’t have to. i don’t want you to feel pressured into doing anything,” i make eye contact with her to try and prove my honesty, wanting her to know she’s not going to be judged.

“i want to… i just have a dumb question first,” she says in a small voice.

“no such thing as a dumb question, i’ll tell you anything you want to know,” i give her a assuring smile.

“is there a way… to make it, i don’t know. is there a way to make it not taste as gross as it smells?” she asks unsurely.

i think for a second. when we were in high school amir and i would take mint and lavender from his mom’s garden to lessen the smell. this wasn’t an option now, seeing as amir’s apartment was closer to growing blue cheese than mint, but mr. cho next door had a rose bush. i close up my grinder, and put the papers and baggie of weed under it, using it’s weight to secure them there. i stand up, offering my hand to larissa. she slowly reaches out, placing her warm hand in mine. her hand is so soft, and the weight of it in mine grounds me.

i pull her in the direction of the fence that lines the yard, stopping when i reach the hole that brings you to the other yard. i drop her hand, and get lower to slide through the opening, but before i can, she grabs my elbow.

“what in fresh hell do you think you’re doing?” she whisper yells at me, not letting go of my arm.

“getting something to help with the taste, you asked if there was a way. i’m getting the way,” i say, trying and failing to loosen her grip by shaking my arm.

“that is someone’s yard, you’re gonna be trespassing,” she said, making it clear that she was not coming with me.

“you’re worth it,” i say, and she goes to say something but i cut her off, “plus, i’m barely going into the yard, just to the side of the house to grab one little, tiny thing. he’s asleep i’m sure, he’s like a thousand years old and he only has a cat,” and with that, i drop down, finally losing her grip. i carefully go through the fence, trying not to get dirt on my clothes.

i look back, seeing larissa staring back at me. i wave to her, she lets out an breathy laugh before waving back. i run low and quick across the yard, coming up next to a rose bush. i stick my hand just a little, a few thorns digging into the top of my hand and wrist, but i pluck the head off of one rose. looking around, i make sure i’m in the clear, before grabbing swiss army knife from the pocket of my sweatshirt, detaching a perfect rose from the rest of the bush, closing and sliding the knife back in my pocket. i turn and head back to the fence, sliding under it. i pop back up into standing position, the head of the rose in my palm, the full one hidden by my sleeves.

“tada!” i say with a smile, “this should help a bit with the taste, and the smell.”

“you trespassed, on a man old man’s property, for a rose bud.”

“yes, now let’s go,” and with that, i begin making my way back to the porch. larissa follows after a second, walking by my side. she walks around the table, i follow her with my eyes as she moves to sit back down, a little shiver going up her spine as she does.

i grab and open the grinder, tearing up little pieces of the rose and adding it to the already grinded weed. ideally this would be dried rose, also ideally not from mr. cho’s yard, but the fact that i would be smoking with larissa made both of those facts mean nothing to me.

“i’m guessing you don’t know how to roll,” i state, looking larissa as she nervously plays with her hands, she shakes her head, confirming my assumptions. “that’s okay, i’ll show you. come here,” i motion her to come closer, and she immediately does, making me blush just as fast.

“you do it, i’ll talk you through. sound good?” i ask her, she nods, “okay, gently hold the paper in half the long way,” she does. “good, now reopen it, and put a filter in at the end,” i pass her a filter, my skin tingling at the short brush of our fingers. she lays the filter against the end closest to her left hand, “now, we just add the weed and rose, then the hard part.”

she looks at me desperately at the mention of ‘the hard part,’ i place my hand on her knee and caress the skin with my thumb, “nothing you can’t handle.” i don’t miss the blush that creeps up her neck, but i hope she missed mine.

i watch as she sprinkles the weed and rose mixture into the paper. long fingers grabbing small bundles of the plants, distributing it evenly. her rings make little noises as her hands move, and i can’t help but watch. she looks at me for confirmation each time before adding more, i only stop her by putting the cover back on the grinder.

“alright, now we roll it, get it all packed and into the right shape. it doesn’t have to be perfect, most of the time they look quite sad,” she giggles at the last bit, and my heart flutters, my smile growing.

i adjust her hands, showing her the motion to make, but when she gets frustrated and mutters something about “should be smart enough to figure it out,” i stop. i grab her hands, moving them manually, showing her the motion myself. she initially freezes, and my hands drop from hers with an apology ready on my lips, but she pulls them back with a ‘it’s okay, i’m just jumpy.’

my eyes go back to her hands, my own coming to help her again. she takes a deep breath, before focusing on the motion harder than before. after i see that she had gotten used to it, i moved away, watching the small smile on her face grow from pride.

“now, we seal it up. tuck, roll, lick, twist, done,” i say quickly, she chuckles warmly. “okay, for real this time. wrap this around the weed, start by the filter,” i start the tuck for her to show her, she quickly understands what to do next, beginning to finish rolling it up. she looks at me for the next direction.

“you have to lick it,” i say, barely being able to look her in the eyes, “ya know, to seal it.”

“is that really necessary?”

“what did you want a little water dish to dip your fingers in? that’s marijuana not a spring roll there, babe,” her eyes widen at the pet name, mine do too. i was not expecting myself to call her that either.

she looks at me before asking, “can you do it? i don’t want to mess it up.”

“you wouldn’t,” i say quickly, not liking how she talked down on herself twice now, “but i can do it, if you want,” she quickly passes her little creation to me, “this looks much better than the first joint i ever rolled, you should be very impressed.”

“i’ve had a pretty great teacher,” she says with a smile, but i’m frozen because her hands hadn’t left mine yet, both our hands cradling the almost finished joint.

with all my strength, i move my hands away from hers. i make eye contact with larissa, raise the joint to my mouth, poke my tongue out, and drag it alone the paper. her eyes are not subtle as they watch my tongue with intent, instead of my eyes. sealing it, i grab a twig off the ground to pack it down, then twist the end. i hold the joint by the filter and hold it up.

“our marijuana and rose mixture, m’lady,” i say with a smile that she matches instantly. i hold it out to her, offering the first hit, but she shakes her head.

“you first, it’s your stuff and you were patient enough to help me. plus you trespassed on someone’s lawn, lots of hard work,” she quips, making me laugh. i was not going to live down the rose bush, was i?

placing the joint between my lips, i look around for my lighter. it had just been on the table, i was sure of it. my head whips around a couple times before i hear a little click, click click.

larissa hold up the lighter, flame glowing. the orange hue lights up her face, her pale skin warmed by the fire. she was so close to me, faces only about a foot apart, knees touching as we faced each other on the couch. the shadows of her face and hands accentuated, her lipgloss shining, eyes reflecting the light. i knew in that moment that nothing more beautiful had ever existed.

she brought the flame to the twisted end of the joint, lighting it gently. no words between us, eyes on each other. i inhale for a few seconds, hoping to get it started as well as calm myself, before my hand rises to my lips to allow myself to exhale. i hold it out for her to grab, but she doesn’t move.

i lower my hand, “you don’t have to if you don’t want to, i’ll put it out if you want.”

“it’s not that, i just don’t want to make a fool of myself. you know, like cough my lungs out in front of you,” she looks at her lap the whole time, twisting her rings around her beautiful fingers. goosebumps grow on her arms as the wind picks up, the sun now past the horizon.

i sit up as i start talking, “you will not make a fool out of yourself,” i slip off my zip up, “everyone coughs when they smoke, if they make you feel bad about they’re idiots,” i hold out the sweatshirt for her, “and i most definitely will never think anything bad of you.”

she accepts the sweatshirt with a hesitant grasp, but once she puts her arm through one sleeve, she’s rushing to pull it fully on. she wraps it around her, i’m giddy at her in my clothing, but i try to remain calm.

“i mean, there is a way that might make you cough less. but it’s a little different and i’d be in your personal space,” i say, not wanting to pressure her or scare her away.

“what is it?” her eyes perk up, looking into mine.

“it’s called shotgunning. basically i’d take the hit, then exhale it into your mouth while you inhale, like passing it along. you can say no, i know it’s weird.”

“i wouldn’t mind you in my personal space,” she whispers, “i’ll try.”

i look at her quickly, making sure she’s serious, and she definitely was. i mumbled ‘okay’ before bringing myself closer to her. i stand on my knees, straddling one of her thighs. one hand on her shoulder, the other holding the joint. i slowly get closer, but she seems to be more impatient. her hands move to my waist, pulling me closer quickly. now fully straddling her, i decide to stay standing on me knees, my hand now around the back of her neck.

i bring her face closer to mine, she tilts her head back just in the slightest while her hands slide down to hold my thighs. i lean over her, moving my hand up to cup her face, stroking her jaw. i look into her eyes, asking permission once again, and she nods.

smoke fills my lungs and mouth, the joint resting between my lips, pulled away a couple seconds later. the smell of weed and a hint of rose surrounds us, but it’s nothing compared to her perfume. i raise my eyebrows while looking at her, letting her know to start inhaling.

i exhale slowly, my lips puckered so no smoke is wasted. smoke smoothly starts to flow my from mouth to hers, her hands grip was steady the entire time, my thumb never stopping the slow, circular motion against the bottom of her jaw. when all the smoke cleared my lungs, i watched her exhale a paler cloud. still perched over her lap, i take a hit from the joint again, this time for myself. i exhale slowly again, blowing the smoke up and away from her, not only to be polite but as to not cover her face.

her hand grabs my wrist, pulling it towards her mouth, this time taking a hit on her own. my eyes never leave her lips, watching as they wrap around the filter and how they leave a shiny print of her lips from her lipgloss. how the smoke leaves her mouth, swirling and dancing around her. her and i just look at each other for a minute before she squeezes my thigh and speaks up.

“i prefer your way,” she whispers, a tiny smile toying at her lips. my heart races.

“i think i do too,” i say back, though i wasn’t just thinking it, i’m fully in love with the idea. i never wanted her fo smoke another way ever again, always like this, me in her lap and her hands on me. i would be content living as her personal cigarette holder. taking another hit, i tap my thumb against her jaw, telling her to inhale once again.

by the time the joint is halfway down, she tells me she ‘believes it’s starting to kick in’ with a slightly more dopey smile, eyes now lightly tinted red. thighs beginning to tire from holding myself up on the cushions, i decide to sit down on her thighs. her stiffens, only for a moment, until her hands comfortingly rub my own thighs, before her hands slide up to my waist, pinching my side playfully.

she takes a hit herself again, choking on the smoke a bit when i bend away from her. i crawl off her lap, grabbing the rose i had plucked for her. i guarded the rose from her sight, i use my knife to remove the thorns so they wouldn’t hurt her.

“what is that you’ve got?” she asks through a giggle, trying to peek over my shoulder. her efforts unsuccessful as i practically fold myself in half to block her view.

“none of you business, now just sit there and look pretty,” i laugh, then wince as i jab my ring finger into a thorn. once the last thorn is removed, i look over my shoulder to look at her. her eyes are already on me, big, blue, and beautiful. “close your eyes,” she does so without hesitation.

i grab the joint from her hand, placing it in my lips, “okay, pretty. open,” i let smoke come out between my words. i had the rose held out to her, nervous smile on.

her eyes open, first focusing on my face then the rose. her smile grows instantly, eyes now flicking between the flower and i. i held it out a little more, urging her to take it.

she tentatively reaches out, hand grazing mine. her fingers wrap around the stem, eyes watering a little, “for me?” her voice was so small.

i nod, letting go of the flower so she can inspect it. her smile makes me heart race and stomach fill with butterflies, but the way she looks at the flower is what makes me weak. she looks at it like it’s precious, like i have gifted her the first rose to ever grow. her arms move around my shoulders within seconds.

“thank you,” she whispers into my ear, my arms wind around her waist, squeezing tightly. i mumble an ‘of course’ into her hair, i nuzzle my nose into her. when we part, she stays close to me. i roll another joint while she rests her head on my shoulder, her eyes watching my actions closely.

with the joint in my mouth, bringing the lighter up to the end. before the flame can reach, a pale hand swipes the lighter from my hand. she lights it in her own, lighting the joint for me. her eyes stay on mine as i inhale, hold, and exhale, still making the point to exhale away from her face. she stays facing me, an expectant look on her face.

with her face held in my hand again, i take another drag, exhaling slowly into her mouth again. she smiles, i smile back. the slider door opens, and larissa nearly jumps out of her skin, but doesn’t move from my side. andrea peeks her head out, grinning largely when she sees larissa. as she makes her way over, she grabs the joint from me, taking a hit, and puts it back between my fingers.

“okay, so on a scale of one to ten, how mad would you be if i stayed the night here?” andrea asks larissa, begging hands in front of her.

a sigh leaves larissa, “solid 8. you’re going to make me walk back to the apartment alone?”

andrea is practically pleading, larissa is irritated. i turn and see tomas in the window trying to see the outcome of this conversation. i shake my head at his antics. i take a long pull off the joint, breaking the ash off and putting it out, then cutting andrea off.

“alright! you have fun with tomas, just don’t use the bathroom in the hallway. boys live here,” they both look at me weird, “larissa, i’ll walk you home, if you want,” she smiles softly. andrea squeals loudly, running inside, no doubt to tomas.

“you don’t have to walk me home,” is all larissa says.

“i know i don’t have to, i want to. i would offer to drive you but,” i pointedly hold up the joint and take a drag, “so i will gladly be walk you home.”

— — — — — — —

the party had died down, the only people left were amir and his three roommates, some ‘too drunk to leave’ stragglers, larissa, andrea, and i. sitting on the couch inside, larissa’s head was resting on my shoulder, an arm wrapped lightly around mine. andrea and tomas slowly disappeared from the living room, larissa and i both chuckling at the clumsy duo sneaking away.

i lean my head onto hers, speaking into her hair, “want to head home?” the only response i receive in a gentle nod against my shoulder.

i begin to stand, saying my goodbyes, then give mikal and amir hugs. larissa finally stands, wobbly for a moment. she makes her way to stand by my side, polite goodbye and thank you’s sent to the guys. after grabbing my grinder and weed bag, i pick around the pockets of my sweatshirt, which was still on larissa. finally getting a hold of my keys, i pull her gently along to start the leave.

the air had gotten much colder during our time inside, my arms wrap around myself tightly. there was no way i was going to ask for my sweatshirt back, the view of her wearing it was enough to keep the cold from consuming me. always observant, larissa notices my shivering and wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into her side. my own arm goes beneath the sweatshirt, hand now resting on her waist.

i pull the remainder of the joint from earlier, it’s a little bent but can still do the job. i hand larissa the lighter, and she takes the hint, lighting it for me as she had previously tonight. we pass the joint back and forth as we walk.

“thank you, for tonight,” she says when we’re about half way to her apartment, she’s gently playing with the rose between her fingers.

“of course. i wanted to make sure you got home safe. and you’re welcome over to smoke, or not, whenev- i mean if you want,” i say, hoping that she’ll take me up on my offer to at least hang out. i just needed her presence, she was too beautiful to lose.

“be careful with that offer, you may never get rid of me,” she chuckles, smile bright and eyes glowing. she was a star plucked from the heavens and placed here on earth, just for me.

“maybe that was the plan all along,” my voice is quiet, i’m stuck in a trance by her beauty.

we arrive at her building, climbing shaky stairs to her door. she opens the door, motioning for me to come inside with her, and i follow with no hesitation. she walks quickly down the hall, to what i assume is her room, before coming back out with a sweatshirt. with an amused smile, she hands me her own cream colored zip up to wear.

we sit crisscross on the couch facing each other, my arm resting on the back of the couch to hold my head up. larissa just sat up, playing with her hands in her lap as we spoke.

“why did you give me that rose?” she asks, her eyes back on my face.

i can only be honest with her, “because it’s pretty, and so are you. i didn’t really think much before cut it, just that i wanted to give you a flower.”

she presses her lips together to hide her smile, but the blush on she cheek betrays her. when she finally allowed herself to look at me, she whispers, “do you actually think i’m pretty, or are you just high?”

i’m taken back by the question, my heart cracking at her thinking i wouldn’t find her beautiful. i reach for her hands, leaning close to her, “i think you’re beautiful. i always do, sober included,” i tilt my head to catch her eyes that dropped to our hands, “i gave you the rose because i like you. like a lot, like so much that amir has banned me from talking about you when we’re in the car because it’s ‘too tempting to kick me out while moving’ in his words,” this both shock and amuses her, so i go on, “i was sober when i picked the rose for you, i wasn’t when i have it to you, but the rose was always for you, larissa.”

she looks me in the eye, probably in search of a lie, but she won’t find one and she didn’t. her hands tighten their grip on my own, “i really like you too, incredibly so. and not just because i’m high. i’ve liked you ever since freshman year in that intro writing seminar, you lived right down the hall and i never got the courage to just knock on the door.”

i have no words to offer her, only an awestruck stare. my heart was frantically beating in my chest, my hands frozen in hers. in a sudden rush, i throw myself at her, and wrap my arms around her shoulders, back on her lap after hours away. her strong arms wrap around my waist, pulling me in further, her head burying in my neck. god, she was just so warm and she was so close, this was what heaven felt like, i’m sure.

her head picks up, now only an inch from my face, “can i kiss you?” her voice is so small, but the grip on my waist is confident. my arms slide from her shoulders, hand coming up to cup her jaw on both sides

“please,” and she does. her lips are so soft, gently dancing with my own. i pull her face in more, needing her closer, closer, closer. my hands slide into her hair, gently threading through soft tresses. her hands grasping my back, gripping my clothes. sliding down, her hands are on my ass, pulling my body in as much as she can. and i let her, and i’ll keep letting her. her tongue asks for entry, and i allow her in immediately, moaning into her mouth at the contact. the high from the marijuana mixing with the high of her touch was creating an addicting feeling, one i didn’t want to live without ever again.

she pulls away slightly, and i whine as i pull her in again. she gives in, laughter lightly vibrating in her chest. i pull away this time, breathing becoming necessary. i rest my forehead against hers, not daring to open my eyes so i can’t ruin this perfect moment. lips press against my cheek, gently moving up to my temple, before she’s back resting on the crook of my neck.

“stay,” she says into my neck, arms wrapping around me tightly. i definitely didn’t want to walk back to amir’s alone, and i most definitely didn’t want to leave her. i just hug her tighter, pressing kisses to her hair.

we stayed like this for a little while, wrapped in each other’s arms and mumbling to each other. i could feel her relaxing against me, likely ready to fall asleep, and i wasn’t far behind her. i pull away from our hug, holding her face in my hands. big blue eyes, soft from sleepiness were staring back at me, a barely-there smile on her lips.

“bed time?” i whisper, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“you have to stay with me,” her voice is like honey, eyes never leaving mine.

“i wouldn’t dream of leaving,” pressing a kiss to her lips, i move off her lap and stand in front of her with my hand out for her. she grabs my hand so gently, as if she’s afraid she’ll hurt me, and lacing our fingers together. she leads the way down to her room.

with the lamp turned on, i could see her room is impeccably clean, only mess is her unmade bed. she lets go of my hand to walk over to her dresser, and i walk around looking at the photos and decorations. a photo of her and a girl with long black hair stand out, arms wrapped around each other, wearing matching uniforms. ‘cute,’ i think to myself. a little rainbow flag rests amongst pencils and pens on a desk in the corner, a matching little lesbian flag with the makeup brushes in the cart next to the desk. these make me smile, knowing she’s proud of herself had my heart melting.

she taps my shoulder, presenting me with sweatpants and a t-shirt of hers when i turn around. we both move to stand on different sides of her bed, she turns away and i copy her. we get changed quickly, or at least i did, wanting to be able to have my eyes on her again. she throws an ‘okay?’ over her shoulder, which i only respond to my picking up my clothes and folding them neatly, moving to put them on top of her dresser. she busies her self with pulling back the comforters and sheets, fixing her many pillows.

settling into bed proves a little awkward at first, both of us laying side by side, not speaking, lamp still on. she moves first, turning the lamp off before settling back in, now on her side, facing me. opening my arms, i motion for her to move closer. she scoots into my side, head resting on my chest as my arm wraps around her at her shoulders, our legs wrap around each other.

“larissa?” i whisper out, she nods against my chest, “i really like you,” i say quietly, my free hand grabbing hers and playing with her fingers. i’m fully aware she can feel my heart beating quicker.

she squeezes my hand, “i really like you too.” she places a kiss to my clothed chest before resting her chin there. “can we get breakfast tomorrow?”

i laugh at her sudden change in conversation, “of course we can, we can go get my car and we’ll go wherever you want, and you can get whatever you like.”

“french toast from the diner on dawson street?” she bites her lip with a smile, and my own smile grows huge on my face. she’s so impossibly adorable, and i get to witness it.

“it’s a date,” i say, relishing in the excited look on her face. she stretches up and presses a long kiss to my lips, then a short one right after, then gets settled back on my chest.

once i hear her breathing even out, her grip on my shirt loosen, i finally allow myself to close my eyes. i thank my lucky stars for this moment. to be holding larissa, falling asleep in her bed, wearing her clothes. heaven has got nothing on this, nothing on her.

hope y’all like this one, i actually really loved writing this and how it turned out. all feedback is appreciated <3

#larissa weems x reader #larissa weems fanfic #larissa weems #gwendoline christie #larissa weems is a lesbian #wednesday netflix #brienne of tarth

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thelastbarricade · 6 months ago

Text

Bloodhound Part 2:

Vacant

pt. 2 of ?

[ read on ao3 ]

summary:

"You think that if you burn down you'll be fine

and I'll forget all the times you lied." - 'VACANT' by Echoes

Your words echo in Cooper Howard’s thoughts.

‘Shoulda’ killed me when I was under, Coop’.’

Doesn’t he know it.

word count : 3.3k

tags: the ghoul x you, the ghoul x oc

warnings: violence, swearing, drug usage, emotional abuse, mutual pining, character study, multiple pov's (will add more as the story progresses)

notes:

Cooper's POV, more or less!

Say hello to my first fic attempt in...two years? Oh boy. All comments and feedback very much appreciated and feel free to hit me up in my messages and start a convo!

Narration and form may not be entirely polished so please pardon my dust.

xx korine <3

The stint he’s fashioned against his leg is a temporary fix at best. The tattered garb shoved deep into the gash is already swollen with fluids. If he keeps it in any longer it’ll just impart the healing further. Cooper relents.

Mirages danced across the dimming light above the sprawling sands just beyond Cooper Howard’s reach.

Fuck.

Daylight’s been on his side since you’d gone down sometime before dawn.

He couldn’t blame you. You didn’t know what whiskey, hell—a proper drink—was. Hadn’t the luxury of it in your short little life. When he’d come across a sealed shelf label bottle somewhere in the wastes trades, he’d jumped on it. Didn’t matter what it’d most likely (definitely) been cut with. The fire and flame coating his throat comforted all the same.

A perfect opportunity. For him or you, Cooper just couldn’t be sure anymore.

You’d enjoyed what taste you’d had. He was sure of it. The carefree curve your lips had softened into as your body began to give in to the pleasures of your drinks domestic pleasures. Pleasures a man like him was not near deserving enough of to bear witness to. But you’d been dropped into his lap like some twisted form of comfort and consequence.

A better man might not have obliged.

Cooper grinds out his complaints in hushed curses and heavy breaths as he climbs. The withering metal structures surrounding the perimeter of the building moan and groan, steps preceded by the low hum of the growing winds at his back. He shimmies his way across a deteriorating overhang leading into the next factory’s building over. The dunes covered his ascent and the mangled scraps of gutted warehouse roofing created a constant cover.

Cooper had only cleared a couple of hundred feet between the both of you.

Was he a fool to stay in such close proximity?

Of course.

Did he have another option?

The once-man-turned-ghoul eyed the wavering silhouettes of the wilds in the distance. If he was still in this wounded of a state when darkness fell—

He’d be a fuckin’ sittin’ duck.

Cooper sneers.

Nope, not an option. Didn’t matter how many bullets he’d have or how many he’d be able to take then. He knew when to make a move and when to wait out the storm. Literally. And mother Mary and all hells that hailed in-between—there would be a fuckin’ storm to be had.

—

The fiends you’d both encountered two nights ago had damn near carved his entire thigh down to bone with how deep their blade had dug. He’s lucky his flesh was kind enough to cling to him then. Not that he’d managed it alone. Of course you’d been there; calling him ‘grandpa’ and cursing reflexes of his you were convinced were slowing.

‘What would you’ve done without me?’ That sly fuckin’ smirk of yours was always tugging at your lips when you knew you’d had one over on him. It happened more than Cooper was willing to admit, and he’d only be willing to admit it when he was stone cold, turned over in his grave for the final time. At one point he had even toyed with the idea of you being the one to put him there.

But that was nothing more than a farce. A fairytale. Something to keep the loneliness lingering in the hearts of all who inhabited the surface, like Cooper, at bay.

A tale meant for ignorant children and self-righteous Vault dwellers.

Bitter to the bone and stubborn as a mule he was. He knew it, didn’t even try to deny it.

You’d put up with it for this long, hadn’t you?

It was then that he pictured you bound and writhing. Wounded temple still weeping because thick as you were, you’d gone and taken the brunt of a hit or two for him.

He told you to never stick your neck out for him—for anyone—ever.

Ever.

The look of betrayal in your eyes shouldn’t have even been a cause for pause, but he had. He’d fucking hesitated.

Canon fodder, Cooper’d said. As if words of that caliber were ever so simple. Easy.

It was like putting down a sick dog, in a way. At least that’s how he’d convinced himself of it—a mercy.

He hadn’t the heart to put the bullet in your head then, though. Not from the moment he’d laid eyes on you. Sickly little thing that you were. Starved and beaten, barely fit for exchange. Wrong end of a shit bargain he’d reckon. Not a surprise. He’d seen it before. You either found yourself strength in numbers in the Waste of became strong enough to cull the lot and likes around you.

Cooper had become the latter. Never was much of a team player, that one.

You on the other hand…

A knot twisted in his stomach.

Cooper would be lying to himself if he hadn’t asked himself and the higher powers above for that insight once or twice. Insight into how a sweet little thing, equally full of bark and bite, had landed yourself in Sorrel Bookers’ keeping.

Booker kept in line a gang of incompetents with little more prestige and skill than your average raider. The “Govermint” had considered you one of their assets at one point. Even his former associate Booker couldn’t be bid high enough on to elaborate. Cooper hadn’t pried into what had caused the tables to turn with you at the shit end of that stick. Not that you would have given him a real answer. He’d never been the type of man to give you one either.

All he knew was he had gotten his 200 caps worth. A small price to pay in the way of a break when it came to one of his bounties. You were sold to him like a dog—starting bid barely worth the sorry excuse for clothes on your back.

“This one’s worth more than fifty of her size and build. Only thing is she’s got a fuckin mouth on her. I’ll leave any ‘bodily modifications’ up to you though, Coop. Be warned, she bites.”

Booker had you bound and gagged in some shoddy storage room in one of his Govermint outfit stations. Your skin watercolored in bruises and superficial cuts in several stages of healing. Your eyebrow had been split sometime in the past day, knuckles bloodied and raw—no doubt a matching set to wounds some of Sorrels men now carried. Men Cooper had noticed lapping at their wounds and steeling away prides with swigs hooch on the way in.

Christ Almighty.

Cooper had remembered how precariously you’d eyed him as he’d stepped into view through the splintering door frame. He leaned in, unimpressed leer on his lips like always. You’d barely blinked as your gaze steadied on his. He thinks he remembers your eyes above all else from that day. Wide and dark, analyzing every movement of his. At one point it’d felt like a damned staring contest. Left the Ghoul feeling like he was the one being sized up and on trial. Not the other way around. You didn’t look afraid…didn’t show the faintest concept of repulsion towards him. You were fucking curious. Naive. A lost cause fallen into the very hands that would find themselves around your throat.

He should have put you out of your misery right then and there.

“I ain’t lookin’ for no pack mule, Booker.” Cooper had heard many a bargain in the way of women. Sorry souls caught up in even sorrier Wasteland body and labor exchange. He steered clear from these outfits for a reason. He wasn’t a good man by any means, but he also wasn’t without his own code of conduct.

“I’m in the business of one thing and so happens I’m in the middle of a job already.”

Cooper should have known he was signing onto some bad shit from the grimy grin Sorrel had given him then. He should have kept walking.

Sorrel Booker shoved you to your feet without a second though and puffed his chest out, hot-dogging you around like a god damn show pony.

“This one’s about to make yours a hell of a lot easier.”

Booker had even thrown in a free muzzle, for your troubles.

You had been a grim reminder for him of how dog-eat-dog worked in the Wasteland. Ghouls weren’t excluded from the order, either. Even a ghoul the likes of Cooper. Two centuries had come and gone with him and still he stood. Top of the food chain came with a price. You didn’t pay that price by makin’ friends. And you? Well, you’d been in debt it seemed; layin’ down with the dogs and here Cooper was washing you of your fleas.

That was four months ago now, give or take. You’d far repaid your caps in chems and vices alike in the first few weeks and here he’d left you alone: on an infested warehouse floor with fiends on both your heels.

Four months.

A fuckin’ eternity and a half for the smooth skins who survived it.

Cooper would know, but somehow it hadn’t been long enough for him to escape…this. These emotions.

You weren’t long for this world, darlin’, but Cooper Howard was. That’s just how it had to be. How it’d always been. Would be. Cooper Howard could be a sorry excuse for a man. It’s no wonder why the fates had designed it so that he no longer was one.

—

After circling the compound for what felt like decades the Ghoul settled own. Deciding to rest backed against a small alcove, right above a stoop of roof tiles obscured by fallen metal sheaths. A seasons worth of solidified sand stood to insulate either side of him from view.

It would have to do.

The suffocating humidity of falling rad-rain on the heated horizon began to kick up sheets of steam in the distance. Cooper lifted his gaze to view the turmoil brewing in the sky above. Dark matter overflowing with hues of vile greens and putrid yellows lurk uncomfortably close.

A tightness curled in his chest and clawed deep in his wretched depths. The Ghoul rummaged about his pack, makeshift atomizer gracing his fingertips. The little bubbled vial that sat atop was dangerously low on its contents. Empty vials clattered like wind chimes against his hip as he shoved them aside. The tepid yellow liquid sloshed and sputtered as Cooper drew in one deep breath.

It would have to do.

It would never be enough.

His lungs filled, expanded. Mind began to blur with days’ highs and lows…numbing them all. If just for a moment.

A moment.

Visions of soft doe-brown eyes and even softer curls crossed his vision.

‘Daddy, give the thumbs up, please! Just one more time.’ Janey’s toothy grin was faded in his memory, no longer near as sharp as the knife the thought alone wielded was.

Just one more time…

Cooper replayed the ghostly nudge of Roosevelt’s nose against his knee over coffee and a crisp morning paper.

The smell of Barb’s gardenia perfume wafting over a fresh cut cigar. Sunlight warms his skin through an open window. His wife’s freshly manicured nails tenderly teasing at his forearm. Lipstick staining his collar as she drew him nearer, arms wrapped around his waist to pull him closer—deeper.

The Ghoul tried his damnedest to remember the sound of their voices.

He bargains with what god cares to hear him.

Just a moment, please, one moment more.

Another voice barrels through the fog of his thoughts. The sands shift in the dunes overhead, metal creaking under a sudden shift in weight above.

“Times up, Coop.”

The heel of your boot slams against his temple, full weight knocking Cooper entirely sideway into the hardened walls of sand. He watches you shrug off your pack before he’s even able to draw on you. Quick little thing that you were.

A knee drives itself into his dominant shoulder, knocking his gun off trajectory and sending a stray bullet into the ground. Radroaches chitter and shriek somewhere in the dark abandon beneath you.

Your wild eyes meet his.

Gods of course you’d make it a fuckin’ ordeal.

You could never just go quietly, could you?

“You son of a—” He watches you lick your lips from above him. It’s picturesque.

Your bare knuckles connect against the sharp curves of his face: bone to flesh and back again. He feels the warmth seeping from your splitting skin and its apparent you’re not in the right mind too stop. Not that he wants you to.

Chems could only numb so much, and a kiss with a fist was better than none.

Cooper hisses when your knee finds itself bearing down on his injured thigh, other knee strewn diagonal to weigh down his shooting arm. You push away his weapon with little effort, hooking it on one of your belt loops as you straddle him roughly. Fingers find their way to his jaw as you observe him in slow like he had you. You slap at the Ghoul’s sunken cheeks, attempting to wake him from whatever daze had given you the element of surprise.

Cooper laughs and rolls his neck to ease the ache in his skull where you’d bludgeoned him.

“Little mutt,” He spits, smile betraying his venom. “They warned me you’d have some bite left in ya’.”

Your eyes dagger at his insult and Cooper notices the smirk about your lips evaporate. Cooper expects you to strike him. In all his months of knowing your true name he still reverted back to pet ones. Insults of ownership.

Instead he’s met with eyes that search his far longer and far deeper than he’d ever be fuckin’ comfortable with. He’s almost sure you catch his facade falter because you cock your head in thought just like he did when he noted something, and well—Cooper’s had just about enough of that.

He meets your weight with the tank that is his own. It was almost an insulting ease. Cooper towered over you in the sum of inches and pounds; muscles that had solidified over the course of two centuries. Nothing about him was soft any longer. Hadn’t been in a very long time. You knew this.

Your supple skin is heaven and hell beneath his hardened grasp. He flips your straddle with ease, shoving your legs between his, even in a wounded state. A gasp escapes your lungs as you orient yourself. He doesn’t even try to block your wrist when you snake it between the both of you; pitiful little pairing blade at his jugular like it’d do a damn thing.

One hand rests against the exposed length of your throat. His elbow buried deep in the soft connective tissue connecting your shoulder and upper arm as he pins it down. That ushers a whine from your lips.

Oh, What a burden it must be made of delicate living flesh, he muses to himself.

To feel like the consequences of your actions with every fiber of your being.

“Gonna’ come make good on yer’ threat there, darlin’?” He trails his free hand down the flare of your ribs, ghosting over your hip like a starved lover and then it settles: just over the barrel of his weapon you’d so kindly pocketed.

The flicker of a shadow dances in his peripheral, just behind the cover of a mound of sand.

Just a little closer.

Cooper scoffs as his gaze flickers down to yours.

“Or,” He cocks the gun against the warm sand. “you gonna’ make go through with mine?”

Cooper leans into the blade at his throat, drawing your chests closer together as he closes the distance between your beating hearts. He knows he’s won when your eyes linger on his lips for even a fraction of a second. The Ghoul smiles in his triumph, steadying the grip on his gun as the shadow teasing his vision shifts.

You tense.

He draws.

He feels you scream beneath him and it is of the things that shatter dreams.

If I’d been a better man…

The blade at his throat sinks in instinctively and the Ghoul couldn’t have blamed you even if he wanted to.

I’d be afraid of me too.

He grits his teeth and his free hand releases your throat.

Your breath heaves beneath him and you scramble out from under his weight when you realize the bullet not been meant for you.

The body of the fiend not more than five feet from the both of you slumps to the ground into a pile of its own brain matter.

You’re shaking. He sees it. Adrenaline pumping and confusion beginning to settle in—

What Cooper was not expecting, however, was the elbow that connected with his jaw just then.

Your elbow.

He lets out the smallest of surprised scoffs and licks at his lips.

Yeah, he’d deserved that too.

He’s almost proud of you.

“COOPER?!?!” The Ghoul watches as you scream your demand of him. Bewildered and shaken you stand. Doubled over—weighing your hands on your thighs to keep upright as the fight or flight leaves your body through bleary eyes.

Cooper takes its all.

Your hesitance, your rage—your indignance and your pain.

Turns and faces you like its nothing to him at all.

“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?”

There’s a hint of desperation on your tongue.

‘Just tell me, please.’ Cooper can almost hear you begging, but you won’t. Not here. Not like this.

He pulls the small blade from his throat, wincing with a flick of his chin as he throws it to the sands before you both. You pause and Cooper grimaces. He motions to the blade, signaling he wants you to pick it up. To Cooper’s surprise and utter fucking dismay, you do. Almost without a second thought.

He watches you tuck it into your pants pocket, diverting those ever watching eyes back to him. Like you saw something he couldn’t.

Why?

Why are you like this?

“Grab your shit.” He growls out. “We’re moving.”

You don’t move, though. You just stare. Doe-eyed like the fraudulent fawn you were.

“Git’!” He clicks his tongue in annoyance. Not at you, not entirely.

That lone fiend Cooper had shot down had been a scout and it was clear to him now that the others wouldn’t be far behind. Fiends usually never tracked their prey through the dunes for half near this long. Just both of your’s fuckin’ luck.

But you wouldn’t know that would you? How could you? Cooper protected you from far too much. Even things that would kill you.

Cooper could smell trouble brewing on the horizon closer than he’d been prepared for. Something wasn’t right and it was his job to figure out what. Even if it meant you resenting him for the time being. He’d been more comfortable with contempt anyway. It fit him like an old glove and embraced him like a familiar lover, no strings attached.

“I hate you.” There’s a resound defeat in your voice.

Cooper nods in slow, jaw clenched. He knows your tired. Sees it in your face and hears it in your voice. He’d spent all these months dragging you through the dessert with promises that never came and made you compromise on every value you held dear that he could. With no end in sight.

He’d just been selfish to let you go.

And you? You’d been too scared to leave.

Scared of what?, he constantly wondered.

What lay out there between the dunes and ruin that could possibly chase you back into the likes of the man like him…time and time again?

Your words echo in Cooper Howard’s thoughts.

‘Shoulda’ killed me when I was under, Coop’.’

Doesn’t he know it.

#fallout tv #fallout fic #cooper howard #cooper howard x you #cooper howard x ofc #cooper howard x oc #the ghoul fic #the ghoul fanfic #the ghoul x you #the ghoul x ofc #the ghoul x oc

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seoafin · 1 year ago

Note

I think it's truly just the saddest thing that none of Ur anons have rlly gooned out in here over the Gojo footfetish truth you have so graciously tried to promote and put out there. How r ppl not talking about this. he'd absolutely have one, he'd nut so hard over ripmcs dainty lil' toes strokin his shit don't let him go near her when she's wearing tights bro that silky sole combo would have him spermin so hard shit would leap into her eyes. Like tbh I'm sawrry if it's tmi but that guy has no shame he'd be telling her to lift up her arms after walking around in town all day so he can jerk his cawk and sniff her pits like wtf do u think he keeps doin w the panties he and suguru keep stealing girl he is wearing that shit liek a COVID mask I don't understand how we as Gojo gaggers have such limited content on satoru being a literal fucking sex pest like this is a man who acts like he's hopped up on coke at least once every 24 hours he's not gonna be normal about ripmcs body dude probably wants to lick inside her ears too or some shit he's a weirdo lol (yeah suguru too tbh but that's mostly because he finds it fun to make ripmc rlly uncomfortable lmao)

thank u....my footjob gojo agenda lives to see another day.....this is so fucking funny because you've read my mind for the exact type of sex fiend gojo is. he is that tumblr post that says "men will fuck anything...you could throw a plate across the room and a man will fuck it before it lands" except replace men with gojo and make anything specific to you. he is such a little freak in bed. he also wants you to full on stomp on his dick. might even say please. you could poke his dick with a toe and you'll get a full body shudder. he's so unashamed about it too. Idek if ur joking abour the armpit licking ear stuff but he'd be into that too he's just so horny but like. in the really weird way 😭

#nobody is going to be indulging this man like geto #when I said gojo would jerk off to a picture you accidentally sent of your elbow I meant it #I was thinking about this ask the entirety of my shift #oh he's a freak alright...#not sfw #.gojo satoru

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hydropyro · 7 months ago

Text

The sun was still just visible over the horizon once Tav was satisfied with their preparation. They had checked the invitation, but it only contained the instructions for contacting Raphael and a delicately scrawled signature with an overly intricate ‘R’ at its head. No time was mentioned, and he had only said ‘tomorrow night’.

They read through the instructions again, mouthing the words. They were careful not to say them aloud should they call the devil too early. The original text was in infernal, but Raphael had added phonetic pronunciation written in Thorass beneath, ‘just in case’.

They cleaned up their quaint home, washing what few dishes they had, dusting, lighting a few candles as the sun continued to fall, and shoving the unwashed laundry into a cupboard so it was out of sight.

Then, Tav drew a breath to steady themselves and spoke the words. They held the note in front of themselves so they could read the pronunciation syllable by syllable. Then – they waited. Perhaps they had spoken the words wrong?

His distinct perfume filled the space before a flash of light announced his arrival. “Hello, again, little – oh.”

Tav turned around as he appeared behind them. He was well dressed. Of course, he was always well dressed, but his doublet now was even more fine than usual. He glanced around himself, his usually emotive arms and hands drawn in close to himself. He collected himself and looked at Tav, a practiced smile returning to his face. “Hello.”

“Hi.” Tav gave him a slight wave. He had been inspecting their home and hadn’t seemed pleased with what he saw.

He held out a hand and took theirs, pressing a light kiss to their knuckles. “Do you know where you’d like to go?”

“Go?”

“To eat.” He glanced around again, “Unless you intended on dining here?”

He did not seem thrilled about that possibility, though that was what Tav had originally expected, and so they shook their head emphatically.

“You are no doubt a much better judge on dining,” they said, hoping that if they stroked his ego, it would lessen his obvious distaste for their dwelling.

Raphael nodded, quietly accepting the compliment. “Have you ever been to Cormyr?”

Tav shook their head, though they remembered the devil’s fondness for Cormyrean prose. When he extended his elbow out, Tav accepted it, interlocking their arm with his before he snapped and whisked them away in a puff of light and smoke.

They appeared on a cobbled path, still busy despite the late night. Everyone looked well-dressed; the men wore tall hats, and the women wore long, flowing dresses. The streets were clean, and the buildings were well-maintained. As they neared a door, a bellhop pulled it inward for them, nodding his head to the pair and greeting the human-disguised cambion as ‘Master Raphael.’

“Are there any tables free this evening?” Raphael asked though he had continued walking without waiting for a response.

“Always for you, Master Raphael,” the bellhop said from behind, and Tav caught Raphael’s slight grin in their periphery.

The décor was – astounding – to put it simply. A waiter had appeared and led the pair through the building, past various other guests in their conversations and enjoying their meals.

“The terrace?” The waiter turned to ask.

Raphael only nodded, not slowing his pace and nearly ran the waiter over, who pranced forward a few steps so as not to be trampled by the sure-footed nobleman. Tav tried to halt their march through the immaculate club to avoid colliding with the waiter, but stopping the fiend by pulling his arm would be like trying to stop a rothe with a thread.

Undeterred and maybe used to the treatment, the waiter only said, “Of course, right this way,” and continued to lead.

The waiter opened a door, and through it, Tav could see glittering, magical lights around an awning-covered table on a small terrace. He held the door wide, allowing the pair to pass, before beginning to supply menus.

“We will have my usual,” Raphael interjected, giving the waiter a polite but clearly disingenuous smile. He dismissed the waiter with a slight wave and set about pulling back a chair for Tav. Once they were seated comfortably, he rounded the small table – inlaid with an intricate mosaic of colored ceramic, glass, and Tav guessed likely real gems – to take his own seat.

They overlooked the cleanly, bustling street below, and across the way, over a wall, was an imposing castle set in a field of lush green gardens with fruit trees and horses out to pasture.

“Where are we?”

Raphael was relaxed in his seat, leaning back with an arm propped onto the wrought iron arm of his chair. “Suzail, at the ‘Old King’s Favorite’ lounge. It's aptly named, as it’s the most popular haunt of only the most prestigious nobility in Cormyr.”

The décor, down to the gem-laden outdoor table, had been an indication enough of the establishment’s standing, but knowing exactly how high class a place it was made Tav feel out of place. They shifted in their seat, and the devil’s sharp eyes caught the movement.

“You’re uncomfortable.” It wasn’t a question. “I hope I am not the cause.” His sly expression told Tav that the statement wasn’t entirely accurate.

Tav shook their head, “It’s just very fancy. I’ve never been to a place like this. You must come often.”

“Every once in a while, when I’m in the area.”

“They seem to recognize you. Is our waiter your least favorite?”

Raphael smirked, knowing what Tav was referring to. He shook his head and sighed a relaxed-sounding sigh, sinking further into a comfortable position. “I’ve never seen him before; he must be new.

“Time is money, dear Tav, and if given the opportunity, they’d waste both. It’s not as though the pocket watches and purses of the patrons aren’t overflowing.

“I have little need for either – but I loathe waste.”

Tav didn’t have a chance to reply before the waiter reappeared with two glass goblets, a cart full of unopened bottles of various wines and liquors, and a few cloche-covered trays that revealed bite-sized morsels, most of which Tav couldn’t hope to identify. He began to list off the myriad of items and bottles of drink, most of what he said sounding so much like gibberish to Tav that they were sure he must be speaking another language until Raphael raised a hand to stop him.

“That’s all for now.” The devil’s tone was quiet but commanding, and the waiter obediently took his leave. Once they were alone again, he raised an eyebrow at Tav. “You see?”

Tav laughed, and the lines on his face creased in shared amusement.

He inspected a few labels before choosing a bottle and uncorking it easily with his hand, not needing the corkscrew somehow. Raphael meticulously poured two glasses; the way he held the bottle and tipped the glass to receive the wine was almost ritualistic. When Tav reached forward to take one of the glasses he gently swatted their hand away with the tips of his fingers. He gave them a wicked smile and raised a finger. “Patience.”

They watched as he lifted a glass, tilting it in the light and swirling it gently. Then he brought the glass up to his aquiline nose and inhaled a long, slow breath. He pondered it for a moment, took a sip, pondered again, and then nodded to Tav.

“Alright.” With his free hand, he gestured to the other glass.

It was good wine – fine – though Tav was no connoisseur. It was one of the better ones they’d tasted, as far as they could remember. They had considered repeating the refined devil's methodical process with their first sip but decided they would only embarrass themselves.

Raphael held up a small piece of bread topped with something deep black with a dark grey-red center. Tav didn’t recognize the meat and tried to hide their distaste, holding up a hand to decline the food.

“Do you often go to dinners not to eat?” the devil asked, popping the morsel into his own mouth before holding up an identical bite.

Once he’d finished chewing, looking pleased with the quality of the food, Raphael said, “Close your eyes and open your mouth.” After a moment, he urged, “Trust me.”

Tav felt their cheeks warm, and they hesitated. Raphael didn’t repeat himself, though he raised both eyebrows expectantly. “Can I?” Tav asked with a shaky laugh.

The devil considered the question briefly before nodding. “At the moment, yes.”

“At the moment?”

A small smile curled on his lips. “During tonight’s meal, I have no intention of causing you harm, Tav. You have my word.”

“Other times you may?”

This brought a laugh, quiet and genuine. “I can’t see the future, so I can’t make any declarations or promises. I do like you, and I don’t foresee that changing at present.

“If I ever mean you harm, rest assured, you’ll know. Now, close your eyes and open your mouth.” The command was given in a low growl, though he continued to smile at them.

Tav took a quick gulp of their wine and drew a breath to steel themselves before doing as was asked. They didn’t know if their anxiety made it seem as though time was slowed or if Raphael was intentionally waiting, watching them sitting there with their eyes closed and mouth hanging open. They heard his chair drag over the terrace tiles and could feel the brush of his sleeve against theirs a moment before the warm bread and meat were placed onto their tongue.

“Savor it,” he murmured, his voice suddenly close. “Eyes closed.”

Tav followed his instructions. The meat was well-seasoned, and the bread had been brushed with a fragrant oil. The sauce was pleasantly tangy and paired well with the bread. The texture of the meat was not unfamiliar – similar to veal if a little more tender, though the flavor had an odd, but not unpleasant, fishiness to it. Tav relaxed more as they chewed, growing comfortable with the food and enjoying it. They swallowed and dared to open their eyes, seeing that Raphael had returned to his seat.

“What is the verdict?” He asked. He took a sip from his goblet.

“It’s really good,” Tav said, nodding. “What is it?”

“Olive oil on toasted sourdough, a lemon caper sauce, topped with braised selkie.”

Tav coughed on their wine, their eyes going wide. “What did you say?”

“Are you allergic?” Raphael frowned. When Tav didn’t answer, he repeated himself, and they struggled to suppress a gag.

“Selkie?”

His confusion turned to amusement, but he didn’t say anything.

“That’s like eating people!”

Raphael put another bite of the selkie meat into his mouth, giving Tav an affirming hum. “I’ve eaten people.

“Your people are not too dissimilar to this, actually.”

Tav downed the rest of their wine, not responding to that detail.

Raphael cocked his head, squinted at Tav, and then laughed. It was an explosive, genuine laugh. Not unpleasant, but not like the practiced, silky chuckle he had in his arsenal. Had they not known his true nature such a laugh may have raised their suspicions that he was more than human.

“Your humor isn’t as gruesome as that of your companions,” Raphael mused as though speaking to himself and committing the knowledge to memory. “I’m sorry – I did not intend to cause you so much discomfort – I only meant to tease. It’s hippocampus steak. A local delicacy.

“Don’t use any magic for the next hour, by the way; the consequences could be disastrous.”

When Tav didn’t look convinced, Raphael said, “Selkie isn't legal game in Cormyr – or anywhere as far as I know.” He refilled Tav’s glass and continued eating, leaning away from the table long enough for two bowls of soup to be brought.

Tav still didn’t speak.

He smirked at them. “I swear, I was only joking. In any case,” he rearranged some of the appetizers on the plate, putting ones clearly topped with fish and one with a roasted vegetable near them. “Pike, crawfish, and squash,” he said, pointing to each in turn.

They had never been to Cormyr but knew that it was a very lawful society and was rumored to be staunchly traditionalist, so they supposed it was likely that selkie would not be on the menu, even as a delicacy. And, though the comment about having eaten ‘their people’ worried them, it wasn’t surprising when considering what he was.

Tav spooned some soup into their mouth. It was hearty and vegetable-based. Desperate to end the awkward silence, Tav asked, “Do–” they glanced over to the terrace door to ensure that the waiter was not listening, “people like you need to eat, anyway?”

Raphael smiled, seeming pleased to have Tav talking again, and he relaxed back into his seat. “Not food,” he shook his head, “not like you mortals do. It can’t sustain me, but it is a pleasurable ritual. And with how dependent mortals are on food, and how often you require it, providing it is always useful and puts one in the good graces of others.”

Tav glanced down at their own food for a moment.

“Assuming one doesn’t make inappropriate jokes during,” Raphael added, chuckling lightly.

Tav smiled back at him, giving him a small nod of agreement.

He picked at his food, but, then, he didn’t need to eat. When Tav’s stomach growled, not having eaten since Wither’s party the evening before, he gestured for them to continue.

“You eat.” He sipped his wine again.

“I’ve seen the work you’ve been doing the past few months, though I’m shocked you haven’t been given more compensation for your heroism.” The tips of his fingers drummed quietly on the table, and his soft brown eyes met theirs, but he didn’t stare intensely.

Tav had almost forgotten about how embarrassing it had been to have him see their house.

“As I know of your past few months, would you allow me to regale you of the progress I’ve been making?”

Tav nodded, their mouth full of rice that had been brought shortly after the soup.

He smirked and drew a breath, letting out a satisfied sigh before getting into his tale. As he talked, Tav wondered how often he made true social calls because the small talk they’d engaged in earlier had been slow and awkward, but now, as he spoke of his work and plans, no doubt as vaguely as possible, he became more like himself. Always emotive, relaxed, and eloquent, chatting didn’t suit him the way that pitching an idea or telling a story did.

Tav wondered if he was also feeling some anxiety over their meeting as they watched him fall back into his familiar, charming, talkative rhythm, much like Astarion had been early in their companionship. While it would no doubt embarrass the perfectionistic devil sitting across from them if he knew that they were considering it, the idea was almost endearing – and they forgave his earlier comments under that belief.

Tav had made the deal with him in Sharesses Caress months prior for Lae’zel and Prince Orpheus. They had long suspected that the Dream Visitor was not trustworthy, and when they’d shared their mistrust with The Emperor, he’d shown his true colors, solidifying to Tav that the Prince of the Comet was their best chance.

They didn’t know much about the Blood War or about how devils or the Hells functioned – but surely, they’d convinced themselves – Raphael’s plans for the infernal hierarchy and future could not be worse than it was currently. He was a devil, and so they were wary of truly ‘trusting’ him, but Korilla had spoken highly and heartfelt about Raphael’s intentions, and he had sent an army through the Grymforge to wipe out Shar’s invasion.

Between the Dead Chosen, the Emperor, so many people along their journey, and gods and devils alike with her companions – Raphael had been the only person with any real power who had been honest with them and had delivered what was promised.

They enjoyed listening to him talk; the way he weaved words and illustrated with his hands and expressions. Tav asked questions about the various planes of the Hells and what he may face there, who ruled them and what they were like, but didn’t dare ask about what his plans were after. He wouldn’t be entirely straightforward, though he may speak honestly to some extent — Tav just didn’t want to know.

The Orphic Hammer had been necessary in defeating the Elder Brain and in helping the githyanki free their people so they could continue the fight against the Ilithids. The contract with Raphael had been necessary. And there were many less trustworthy with such an artifact, surely.

Raphael had finished his ‘hippocampus’ appetizer some time ago, and held up a hand a moment to halt the conversation. With his other hand he snapped his fingers, producing a flame, and then did it again. Then, a content smile came across his face.

“Are you still eating, my friend?” He gave his companion a wicked smirk at the endearment — knowing he may be pushing some boundaries.

Tav offered a smile in return, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing them react. Were they friends? Could they be friends? Did Tav want to be friends with such a creature? “No, I couldn’t eat another bite.”

“Shall I walk you home?”

Tav laughed, “Yes, please. It will be a long walk on my own.”

He stood and pulled back Tav’s chair before extending a hand to them. As soon as their skin met Tav heard a snap and they felt a pull deep in their gut. In an instant they were standing on the cobble path outside their little cottage. Outside, thankfully.

Raphael pressed a kiss to Tav’s knuckles, smiling politely. “I enjoyed our time together. You know, it’s not often I make purely social calls.

“Perhaps I ought to more often. I quite enjoyed our evening.”

“You aren’t going to make a bid for my soul?” Tav teased.

His eyes, though still human, seemed to burn a bit. He raised an eyebrow, purring, “Is it on offer?” Before Tav could respond he shook his head, giving a practiced chuckle. “No, tonight was purely social. Though, I make no promises for when next we meet.”

Despite the subtle threat, Tav smiled and gave the polite sounding devil a small wave. “Thank you, Raphael. I had a great time”

He gave a slight bow, putting a hand to his chest. “No, little mouse, it is I who thank you.

“You’ve done so much for me, and I can’t wait for you to see it.

“Until next time, then.” In a puff of smoke and light, he was gone.

@dmagedgoods this is a relevant excerpt from a dinner owed it’s 3,100 words though

#baldur’s gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #raphael #simpathyforthedevil #raphael bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #romance the devil

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