dia

named elosie, after her mother, who died when she was an infant (david was two)

goes by Lolly, since david couldn't pronounce "eloise" and it stuck (loise -> lo-y -> lolly)

spitting image of her mother, all large eyes and soft curves and dewy skin and dark hair

exactly like her father when he was a teenager: good-natured, rebellious, hard-headed, vivacious, flirtatious

(david's the opposite: gabe with his mom's coloring, but such a sensitive, earnest, sweet, protective kid)

grew up having the fattest crush on tank

one day david coming home, telling her all about "this random person keeps showing up at places I'm at I think they're a stalker i'm going to kill them" and her going ">:) get 'em"

chaotic neutral to david's lawful good

meeting angel, asking if they're into girls and if they'd consider dating the better shaw sibling instead

her wolf shape is a scruffy cinnamon and white wolf that has a permanent cowlick where Lolly has one

wanted to be like tank when she was younger, would get into as many fights as she could bc they would do it too

asher and lolly fight regularly, to this day

texts milo for romantic and fashion advice

at the Summit: "why do you only know hot people, davey? and follow up, why am i still single if you only know hot people?"

later on, when the pack gets closer to vincent/sam/porter/lovely, lolly becomes fast friends with porter and vincent

fears sam. adores sam. only sam can tell her what to do with a 100% success rate.

It's a clear, summer morning when you wake up. Sunlight trickling through the windows, the cool morning air wafting into the room.

You yawn, stretching with a sigh, and roll over. A large mass of body lays next to you, and you blink sleepily, only half-registering.

Then you sit up. You feel your heart drop into your stomach.

"What the fuck."

Because your boss is lying next to you. Shirtless. Tangled in your bedsheets, muscular arms wrapped around your pillow.

The memories come flooding back. They're near pornographic, whatever you two did last night. Sloppy, desperate, needy. Endless, too, because you can remember at least four orgasms, and your sore body seems to reflect that.

Boss was inaccurate. He was your former boss, the one you'd always argue with, heated in his office, glaring at his lips and wondering what they'd feel like on you instead of cussing at you.

In his sleep, he rolls over, a huge bicep hooking around your waist and pulling you to him. His face nuzzles into the crook just between your hip and waist, and he lets out a sleepy mumble.

Your stomach is fluttering, both from the intimate touch, but also the casualness of it all. It was so... normal.

You'd never had a boyfriend before, never anything more than a casual one-night stand or a high school prom hookup behind the bleachers. This was... different. Terrifying, to be honest, because what if he woke up and his eyes dimmed in disappointment? Or he realized this was all a humiliating mistake?

You felt your stomach sour, your nerves firing with anxiety. He would wake up, certainly, and decide that he wanted nothing to do with you. You probably looked ugly, makeupless and sleep-ridden. He could see the rolls of your body, the places that weren't perfect.

Shame and embarrassment creeping across your face, you made to slide out from under his arm, wanting to flee your own apartment before he woke up.

But his arm tightened around you, unmoving as steel. "No," he mumbled sleepily, lips moving against the bare skin of your stomach.

Stubborn ass. Fighting you, even in this half-awake state.

"Hey," you whisper. "Let me go. This was a mistake."

In response, he drags your hips down, flattening you on the bed. His face nuzzles into the crook of your neck now, lips searing hot against your sensitive skin.

"Is it a mistake because you regret it?" he whispers, arm tightening around you, pressing you flush against the hard muscles of his chest. "Or is it a mistake because you're scared, smartass?"

"I-" you're never speechless, especially not in a verbal spar against him, but his lips at your neck and his arm around your waist definitely change things.

"Because if you're scared, you have nothing to worry about, baby," he continued, his voice so soft, like you've never heard it before. Gentle, as if you were something precious to him.

"I want you," his voice took on a gravelly edge. "I want you like this, in the mornings, with bedhead and morning breath. I want every part of you, no matter how raw or unfiltered. I want you with me, at my side, every time I wake up or go to sleep. So whatever bullshit is running through your head, telling you that you aren't enough, can shut the fuck up. Got it?"

You still can't gather words, your mind spinning a mile a minute, heart pounding in your chest.

"Please," his voice broke quietly, and you felt your heart skip. "Stay with me. Don't go."

You slowly turned in his arms, face to face. You clasped his cheek, running a thumb along the stubble growing there. He seemed to melt into your touch, going fuzzy at the edges. You had never seen him so... domestic. So gentle. At work, he was all hard angles and stern glares and strict deadlines.

Now? He was so... soft.

For you, a voice whispered. Soft for you.

"I will not go anywhere," you promise. "I'll stay right here, in your arms, for as long as you'll want me."

He chuckled at that, pressing his forehead to yours. "Then you'll be there 'till I die, smartass, because I'm gonna want you forever."

Your heart warmed, and you pulled him in for a kiss. His arms wrapped around you, legs tangling together, and you let out a happy murmur.

Maybe the insecurity would never go away, never really be gone. But with him?

They came home, stumbling, dripping in blood. Darlin' wavered, slamming into the doorframe as you stared at the blood spurting down their bicep, between their fingers.

"Darlin--"

"I'm fine, cupcake," they snorted, but it was a half-assed attempt at bravado. Their skin was a grey, ashy color. Dark circles bloomed under their eyes. Scratches oozed along their bare skin, and you couldn't even begin to guess what was under that wifebeater caked in blood.

They made to cross the room, but spasmed in pain, and crumpled against the wall.

"Baby--" you lunged for them.

"I'm fine, sweetie, I promise," they gave a watery smile through the pain, blood streaking the white wall behind them.

You inhaled through your nose. Your voice was quiet but resounding, carrying further than it seemed. "If you don't sit your ass down right now, I'll make you."

Darlin' chuckled, head tipped back against the wall, blood smeared across their face. Your heart thumped a bit. Even hurting and beat into pulp, they managed to be rakishly sexy. Their dark eyes glittered at you, as if they could sense your thoughts.

"Gonna fix me up, baby? Play nurse?"

You scoffed, even though the pet name sent shivers through your body. "Play nurse? I've healed your ass more times than you've had it handed to you. I should get certified as a healer at this point."

"Well, thanks," they murmured softly as you wedged your shoulder under their armpit, letting them lean their weight on you. Darlin' let out a soft groan of pain as you staggered toward the couch.

"Don't thank me," you gritted through your teeth. Strong as you were, Darlin' was compact muscle crammed into a human body, and their deadweight limp wasn't helping. "Thank Ma. You'd be dead without her."

Darlin' chuckled. "That's true. Probably would've died as a fucking kid, if it weren't for her."

You sniffed pointedly, laying Darlin' out on the couch with a gentle cradle of their head.

Without much ado, you brought a knife from the kitchen and slit it through Darlin's shirt, peeling away the shredded pieces of their wifebeater from the gashes in their skin. Blood had begun to dry, crusting over, so you gently mopped at it with hot water and a rag. This loosened the blood, and you were able to peel the shirt from Darlin's bruised body.

"Normally, shirt off means sexy time," Darlin' mourned, watching you with pain-slitted eyes. You dabbed at a particularly nasty wound and they hissed, biting into their lip with those sharp canines.

You handed them a rag. "Bite this if you gotta bite something. You'll chew a hole right through by the time I'm done if you do that."

Darlin' winked. "Then you could come heal me right up."

You glared. They just smiled.

You marveled at how easygoing they had become as you ran your hands over their muscles, assessing the damage, sending out waves of magic to analyze every severed muscle and torn tissue.

A year ago, maybe even half that, Darlin' would've sat on this couch and scowled and swore and snarled at you. Pushed you away, snapped at you, insisted that they didn't need healing. And probably passed out on the couch, so hurt you'd have to call the ambulance because your makeshift healing magic wouldn't have been enough.

That had almost happened once. Darlin' came to your apartment "just to get some bandages", passed out on this very same couch, and nearly bled to death. You had managed to patch up the worst of it, saving you both from a hospital trip, but it had been exhausting.

You had passed out on the floor next to them, face wet with tears, brow crumpled in anxiety. When you woke up, Darlin' was staring at you, with the saddest expression on their face.

"Are you okay?" you had asked, leaping to alertness.

"Why do you care so much?" they had rasped in response, tear falling from their eye.

That had been the first night you two had kissed, the first night you had both admitted whatever this weird bond was, was more than just friends.

And now? Now Darlin' lay down, let you heal them without any major fuss. No more snapping or snarling. They let you analyze them, see how damaging their wounds really were. You would let them patch themself up if it wasn't too bad.

Tonight, the wounds were shallower than they looked. Whoever had been fighting your mate hadn't been able to get close enough, but knew where to hit, drawing more blood than normal.

"Who was it this time?" you murmured, taking a deep breath in, then sending it all out in a push of healing magic. You felt the magic rush from your core and into Darlin's, your fingertips tingling.

Darlin' snorted. "Just some rival vamp grunt. Crossed William one too many times, owed him something or other. I don't ask."

You pressed your lips together as you healed another scratch. You loved your mate, but highly disapproved of their most popular client, King Willaim Solaire. While he paid well, his victims were always the ones that landed more hits on Darlin' than you would've liked.

"Well, judging from these scars, he was no easy target. I'm proud of you," you smiled, smoothing your hands over the last healing scar. "You still need to rest up, but these should be all good by morning, provided you eat and drink well."

Darlin' smiled up at you, their normally flinty eyes soft. "With you around, I know I will be."

You smiled, picking up the shreds of Darlin's shirt, bloodied rags, and medical gauze.

Darlin' stiffened as you made to leave, their fingers twitching, as if they wanted to reach out and grab you.

You smoothed your hand through their hair, scritching gently. "Don't worry, wolfie. I'm coming back."

Embarrassed but relieved, they settled down. But they still watched you over the edge of the sofa, eyes darting to follow you, as if they were scared you would vanish into thin air.

You washed up, threw away the dirty supplies, then padded back to your mate. They shifted to make room for you on the couch, and you snuggled behind them.

Darlin' buried their head in the crook of your neck, nose resting against your collarbone. Little puffs of their breath ghosted along your skin. You wrapped your arms around them, pulling them in tight, careful to avoid their bandages.

Their body was all hard muscle and sharp edges, calloused and bumpy with scars. You wanted to kiss it all, show them just how much you adored them. Instead, you settled for tracing your fingertips up and down their skin, soothing them.

Darlin' made a soft sound at the back of their throat, eyelashes fluttering at your jaw.

"I love you, baby," they murmured, voice thick with sleep and exhaustion.

You chuckled softly, swirling circles into their skin. "I love you too, my Darlin'. Get some rest."

normally, being the acts-of-service guy, david books surprise vacations and dates and such

but he's had a hard month year lifetime week, so angel decides to surprise him with a fully detailed itinerary-ed itemized sexscapade into a tiny little cabin in the woods in the middle of nowhere

angel drives david up, mysterious and giggling and TURNED THE HELL ON

david's suspicious and nervous and also TURNED THE HELL ON cuz what is his crazy mate up to now

they get there

angel pulls david inside. it's a cute little rustic cabin with a fireplace and cozy furniture and holy shit an entire bed full of toys, restraints, floggers, costumes, lube, etc. etc. etc.

"i- did we decide to start a sex toy shop in the woods, angel?"

david is flustered

he's so insanely flustered he literally cannot speak

and he's got a massive tent in his pants

and angel is downright gleeful

they spend literally the entire week straight just... going at it.

david's got angel pressed up against every surface, pounding those powerful hips into theirs, stuffing them so full at every chance, angel can feel him inside even when he's not

his hands are everywhere, all over them, inside them, stroking petting coaxing pulling teasing pinching squeezing

angel's never cummed so much in their fucking life and that's saying something

they try everything. candles drip down angel's body, throbbing welts and pretty sore stripes mark their skin, hickeys of all shapes and sizes are in every location imaginable, david's teeth have made permanent indents on their collarbone

and angel has done their fair share, too. david's back is clawed to shreds, bright red. he's got a collar of bite marks around his neck, "to show who he belongs to", angel declared.

(they orgasmed probably eight times in a row that night because david liked that so much)

they played chase in the woods, naked and filled with adrenaline, hearts thumping rapidly. wet sliding between angel's thighs. david practically drooling, hackles raised and cock throbbing

david's head between angel's legs at all times, devouring them alive, making them squeal and beg and sob with delight

angel on their knees while david cooks, taking him down their throat so hungrily, so needily

waking each other up with strokes and kisses and sucks and swallows

falling asleep with david still inside them

endless hours of toying, teasing, fucking, devouring, owning, stroking, pleading, whining, growling

they get back to the city, and the scent of each other's sex still lingers all over

asher makes a face, milo laughs out loud, and sweetheart n babe give angel high-fives