hiiii so respectfully i started writing this after the wedding vid came out and it's been collecting dust since. still a little unfinished but i thought valentines was a perfect time to share the silly boys and a little davey/angel moment ᵕ̈
“asher, if you don’t quit messing with that tie…”
asher freezes. his hands fall to his sides obediently. milo shakes his head as he moves to fix the knot until it meets his standards. he brushes off ash’s shoulders. “there. relax ash.”
“i’m not nervous!” he protests. “maybe i just don’t like to wear suits…”
“you didn’t act like this at prom.” milo looks unimpressed.
“i was drunk at prom!” asher argues back.
david comes around the corner, pulling his suit jacket on over his button down. “that’s because youre a lightweight. it was one wine cooler, which was a horrible choice to start with.” he says as he stands before a mirror, fussing over the collar of his shirt.
“jesus, you’re wrecks. the both of you.” milo leaves asher in favor of fixing david’s collar. “don’t get me started on you at prom david. we could hardly get you to wear a button down, much less a whole suit. black jeans and your dad’s jacket did not pass as a tux… i can’t believe they let you in looking like a delinquent.”
david grumbles, “whatever,”
“our alpha ladies and gentlemen.” milo smirks.
ash is laughing now. he grabs david by the shoulder who tuts at the wrinkle it makes. “he’s gonna be crying with the rest of us.”
. . .
later, asher is dancing with his mate a few feet away from them. he’s tripping over his own feet, too excited to follow any kind of practiced step or rhythm. so much for the west coast swing.
angel laughs, rosey cheek against the lapel of david’s suit.
“anything,” david says just above a whisper. “forever, for that laugh.”
they’re smiling- they feel like they have been for months now- as david swings them under his arm.
hiiii so respectfully i started writing this after the wedding vid came out and it's been collecting dust since. still a little unfinished but i thought valentines was a perfect time to share the silly boys and a little davey/angel moment ᵕ̈
“asher, if you don’t quit messing with that tie…”
asher freezes. his hands fall to his sides obediently. milo shakes his head as he moves to fix the knot until it meets his standards. he brushes off ash’s shoulders. “there. relax ash.”
“i’m not nervous!” he protests. “maybe i just don’t like to wear suits…”
“you didn’t act like this at prom.” milo looks unimpressed.
“i was drunk at prom!” asher argues back.
david comes around the corner, pulling his suit jacket on over his button down. “that’s because youre a lightweight. it was one wine cooler, which was a horrible choice to start with.” he says as he stands before a mirror, fussing over the collar of his shirt.
“jesus, you’re wrecks. the both of you.” milo leaves asher in favor of fixing david’s collar. “don’t get me started on you at prom david. we could hardly get you to wear a button down, much less a whole suit. black jeans and your dad’s jacket did not pass as a tux… i can’t believe they let you in looking like a delinquent.”
david grumbles, “whatever,”
“our alpha ladies and gentlemen.” milo smirks.
ash is laughing now. he grabs david by the shoulder who tuts at the wrinkle it makes. “he’s gonna be crying with the rest of us.”
. . .
later, asher is dancing with his mate a few feet away from them. he’s tripping over his own feet, too excited to follow any kind of practiced step or rhythm. so much for the west coast swing.
angel laughs, rosey cheek against the lapel of david’s suit.
“anything,” david says just above a whisper. “forever, for that laugh.”
they’re smiling- they feel like they have been for months now- as david swings them under his arm.
any plans to finish cornelia st? :3 i loved it so much oh em gee
hii tentatively yes! lately i’ve been thinking lots about how i’d like to come back to this blog and post more like i used to- and ideally cornelia street would be a part of that! but realistically if it gets an update it likely wouldn’t be for a while.
“sometimes i forget that our first date was in a fast food place,” angel had mused from behind their switch. colorful lights flickered over their face as they continued playing with their legs crossed over david’s lap.
david’s jaw all but hit the floor. “that was not our first date.”
“yes it was!”
“angel, no.” he frowned, deepening the line between his eyebrows as he snapped his book shut. “that doesn’t count. i was in my work clothes. i didn’t pick you up or pay for dinner or do any of the things you’re supposed to do. you know, like how our actual first date went.”
angel laughed, endlessly endeared. “who’s the hopeless romantic now?”
slowly pushes my blonde david shaw agenda towards you… (like slightly silvery blonde 🧍♂️) LIKE IMAGINE IT W HIS DIMPLES THAT ONLY SHOW UP WHEN HE LAUGHS N SMILES PLS PLS PLS (im insane)
i think im too far gone on dark hair david to picture him any other way tbh! david shaw u could never be blonde to me
now dimples david. he gets a kiss on the cheek for sure ᵕ̈
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
“How did you know?” His fingers felt stiff, mouth dry.
They quirked an eyebrow at him, sparing him only the briefest of glances. “How did I know what?”
“About my…” Astarion glanced around, lowering his voice ever so slightly to dissuade eavesdroppers. ”Affliction.”
“Secrets are as valuable as coin, you know.” Lampyris ignored his anxiety in favor of getting comfortable in their seat again, dropping their feet off the edge of his chair. “Perhaps you should be less trusting.”
What a farce.
hey guys. chapter 2 of my astarion fic is finally done anf its just 11k of them playing gay chicken
Tagged by the incomparable @ejunkiet. Thank you, friend! I've been working on a post-Inversion fic that celebrates the David/Angel and Milo/Sweetheart friendship (with Aggro, of course!) I had planned for it to be a oneshot, but I'm thinking it's going to be a few chapters. This is the first bit of it I'm sharing.
Tagging anyone who'd like to share a WIP of any kind, including @dominimoonbeam, @sincerelywhistler, @floofdeloop, @autisticempathydaemon, @cashandprizes, and @vampire-bite.
The sharp knock at the door startled Sweetheart out of their thoughts. They blinked, almost wondering if they were beginning to hear things. Feeling practically paralyzed, Sweetheart glanced at Aggro, who was also staring intently at the door.
After a moment, the knocking resumed, this time louder and more rhythmic.
“You’re gonna give yourself bloody knuckles if you keep that up,” a deep voice grumbled.
That voice belonged to none other than David Shaw. Sweetheart would recognize the alpha’s voice anywhere. Other than Sweetheart and Marie, David was the only other person Milo told about his harrowing Inversion experience.
It had been a difficult conversation to say the least, but Sweetheart was relieved that David knew of Milo’s bravery. That was part of his job as Milo’s alpha, and he was nothing if not a supportive, trustworthy alpha. Sweetheart wasn’t at all surprised to know that Angel also was privy to this knowledge, and they had no doubt the alpha-mate would keep that secret.
Still kneeling, Sweetheart flicked their hand to guide a bit of telekinetic energy upon the door handle to let David into the condo. The heavy front door swung open to reveal the looming figure of David, who had two tote bags, clearly chock-full of something, slung over his shoulders as he held a small cooler in his arms. Angel was standing in front of him, holding their phone and a single bag of what appeared to be Aggro’s preferred brand of cat treat.
“Hi,” Angel brightly greeted with a wave before they pushed their large, round sunglasses up onto their head. “We’re here to check in on our Sweet’n’Low mate-pair.”
i was personally wronged by the lack of club david last summer. working on my revenge :3 enjoy!
David was turned towards the center of the room from his seat at the bar, his nearly full glass sweating as it sat entirely ignored. He’d been watching his mate- contented enough to see them happy and dancing under the colorful lights with Milo and the stealth. He wondered idly if Angel could have be part daemon, their body made of whatever kind of magic that could bind him to his seat in a crowded club like this.
He huffed a laugh at the thought before returning his face into its resting scowl and reaching for his glass. David watched from over the rim as Angel made their way to him. “David.” They started, a coy little smile playing at their lips.
“Don’t.”
Angel faked a pout, but their eyes were playful and glittering in the light. “You don’t know what I’m going to say.”
“Yes, I do. I already told you. I’m not dancing.” He sighed. “Besides, you seem like you’re having plenty of fun out there with Stealth.”
He was happy to watch them from afar, away from the speakers and the bulk of the crowd. He could wait to make up the distance between them later. At least that’s what he’d been telling himself since they’d arrived.
“Milo’s not gonna let me keep them all night.” Angel rested their hands on his wrists to steady themselves on their toes, then trailed their fingers up to his shoulders. “Please? One song.”
They stared at each other for a minute. David broke eye contact first. “One.” He grumbled.
tiny excerpt from the 2nd chap of my fic i posted the other day 😷😷😷
Astarion was well-versed in pleasures of the flesh. He’d kissed more lips than there were stars in the sky, not that he could remember the vast majority of them. His skin was cold wherever Lampyris stroked over it, prickling with gooseflesh as soon as the warmth was gone. The side of his neck, his bicep through the thin fabric of his shirt, the curve of his back. Pieces of him sang their name against his will, scoring his soul with the gutting reminder that this was all he would ever have. All he would ever be.
“Is this what you want?” They murmured between chaste kisses, like they were afraid to stop. Claw-tipped fingers crept past his hairline, sharp points chewed dull, twisted into curls that hadn’t felt a kind touch in years. “Not to rip and tear and feed?” Their eyelashes tickled his skin when they blinked, a semblance of another kind of kiss. “Soft?”
In the drag of their skin against his, Astarion could taste that Lampyris was starving, too. For something else, of course. His body cried and gnawed itself apart in hopes of satiating a bloodthirst so bottomless there would be nothing left of him were it to cease; they clawed themself to ribbons for the taste of belonging, of someone calling their name not for what they could do but for the pleasure of their company. Two coins, both flipped.
They asked him again. “Is this what you need?”
Their intentions had shifted in those few moments. Did he want the softness of their mouth, the reverence of their touch? Did he need it?
“You are.” He told them, even though it wasn’t true.
He’d tell them as many times as it took- into their mouth, against their throat, between their thighs. Astarion would tell them he wanted them, that he loved the way they looked, that he loved their taste and smell. All of it. He would pretend to need them, to belong to them. And he would miss them to the point of agony when he came to terms that this would be the first and the last time he would have the privilege of doing so.
It was his nature. It was his game. And he had won.
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