#the lost boys x reader poly

[twistedgameswewrite]

I need to tear that man apart with my teeth(/pos)

[p4r4syte]

if youre cold, theyre cold. Let Them In.

[i-heart-slashers]

For Our Girl

𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: Poly!Lost Boys x Female!Reader

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: You never meant to get tangled up with the Lost Boys, but a wrong turn in the woods led you to them—four vampires with glowing eyes and dangerous smiles. Now, weeks later, you’re theirs. Surrounded by their cold skin and sharp promises, you’re not just safe—you’re wanted, desired, and maybe too far gone to care what they are.

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 1.7k

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: suggestive themes. sexual tension. possessiveness.

The boardwalk hums with life, the carousel’s tinny music clashing with the roar of motorbikes and the screams from the roller coaster. You weave through the crowd, the salty ocean breeze tugging at your hair, your waitress apron still tied loosely around your waist from a double shift at the diner. Your feet ache, your head’s foggy, and all you want is to collapse into bed.

But the weight of their eyes on you, always watching, always there, makes your skin prickle with something that’s not quite fear anymore.

It started that night in the woods. A stupid shortcut after a late shift, your flashlight flickering, and then those glowing eyes. Four of them stepped out of the shadows like they owned the night. Paul, with his wild grin and a joint dangling from his lips. Marko, all sharp edges and sharper laughter. Dwayne, silent, his dark eyes pinning you in place. And David, cold and commanding, like he was sizing you up for dinner.

You should’ve screamed. Run. Done something. Instead, you snapped at David to get out of your way, or you’d make him. The words had tumbled out before you could stop them, fueled by exhaustion and defiance.

Paul had howled with laughter, Marko’s eyes had glinted with something dangerous, and even Dwayne’s stoic mask cracked into a faint smirk. David, though—he’d just stared, his lips curling into a slow, predatory smile.

“Feisty,” he’d said, voice like gravel and smoke. “I like that.”

You thought that was the end of it. A weird encounter with some punks who hung out in the wrong part of town. But then they started showing up everywhere.

Paul slipping a mixtape labeled “For Our Girl” onto your windowsill, filled with Mötley Crüe and The Cure. Marko ambushing you at the pier, dragging you to a secluded stretch of beach to watch the stars his arm brushing yours. Dwayne wordlessly showing up at your rundown apartment to fix the lock after you mentioned it was busted, his hands steady and sure, his gaze lingering too long on your throat.

And David. David, who one night draped his leather coat over your shoulders when the wind off the ocean turned sharp, his gloved fingers grazing your jaw as he tilted your face up to meet his icy blue eyes. “Anyone messes with you,” he said, voice low and deadly, “they answer to us.”

Now, weeks later, you’re unsure what you are to them. Not a victim—they’ve made that clear. Not just a friend, either. There’s a heat in the way they watch you, a hunger that’s equal parts thrilling and terrifying. You’re theirs, they say, and the word carries a weight you’re only starting to understand.

Tonight, you feel it more than ever. You’re halfway across the boardwalk when Paul’s voice cuts through the noise, lazy and teasing. “Yo, babe, where you runnin’ off to?”

You turn, and there they are, lounging against the railing like they own the place. Paul’s sprawled out, one leg kicked up, his blond hair a mess from the wind. Marko’s next to him, twirling a switchblade between his fingers, his patchwork jacket catching the neon glow. Dwayne leans back, arms crossed, his dark hair falling into his eyes as he watches you with that quiet intensity that makes your pulse race. And David—David stands at the center, his cigarette glowing red in the dark, his smirk promising trouble.

“Home,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “Some of us have jobs, you know.”

Paul laughs, loud and bright, hopping off the railing to sling an arm around your shoulders. “Jobs are overrated. Come hang with us. We’ve got plans.”

“Plans?” You raise an eyebrow, glancing at the others. Marko’s grin is all teeth, and Dwayne’s expression doesn’t shift, but you catch the faintest tilt of his head like he’s daring you to say yes. David just exhales a plume of smoke, watching you through half-lidded eyes.

“Something… fun,” David says, and the word drips with suggestion, his voice curling around you like a promise.

Your stomach flips. You know what they are. You’ve seen how their eyes glow in the dark, and their teeth glint a little too sharp. You’ve noticed the bloodstains on Marko’s jacket that he laughs off and the way Dwayne’s hands are always cold when they brush your skin. Vampires. The word sits heavy in your mind, but instead of running, you’re still here, caught in their orbit.

“Fun,” you repeat, crossing your arms. “Last time you said that, Marko tried to teach me to surf at three a.m. I nearly drowned.”

Marko snickers, flipping the switchblade closed. “You loved it, admit it. Looked hot in that wetsuit, too.”

“Keep dreaming,” you shoot back, but a smile tugs at your lips, and Marko’s eyes light up with mischief.

Paul tightens his arm around you, pulling you closer. “C’mon, babe. Live a little. Or, y’know… unlive a little.” He winks, and you roll your eyes, but the heat of his body against yours sends a shiver down your spine.

Dwayne finally moves, stepping forward until he’s close enough that you can smell the leather of his jacket and the faint tang of salt and iron that clings to him. “You’re tired,” he says, voice low, almost gentle. “Let us take you home.”

It’s not a question, but there’s no threat in it either. Just a quiet certainty, like he already knows you’ll say yes. You glance at David, who’s still watching you, his cigarette forgotten between his fingers. There’s something in his gaze—possessive but not cruel. Like he’s waiting to see what you’ll do.

“Fine,” you say, exhaling like you’re annoyed, but your heart’s pounding. “But I’m not riding on the back of anyone’s bike. Last time, Paul nearly crashed us into a dumpster.”

“Lies!” Paul gasps, clutching his chest dramatically. “I’m an artist on that bike.”

“An artist at chaos,” you mutter, and Marko laughs, sharp and delighted.

David flicks his cigarette away, stepping closer until he’s right in front of you, his presence overwhelming. “You’ll ride with me,” he says, and it’s not a request. His gloved hand brushes your cheek, lingering just long enough to catch your breath. “Unless you’re scared.”

You scoff, meeting his eyes. “Of you? Please.”

His smirk widens, and for a second, you think he’s going to kiss you right there in front of everyone. Instead, he steps back, jerking his head toward the bikes parked nearby. “Let’s go.”

The ride to your apartment is a blur of wind and adrenaline, David’s bike roaring beneath you as you cling to his waist, the leather of his coat cool against your cheek. The others follow their laughter and whoops cutting through the night.

When you reach your place, you expect them to drop you off and peel out, but they don’t. They follow you inside, sprawling across your tiny living room like they own it—Paul kicking off his boots, Marko raiding your fridge, Dwayne leaning against the wall, watching you with that unreadable stare.

David doesn’t sit. He prowls, circling you like a predator as you untie your apron and toss it onto the counter. “You’re tense,” he says, voice low, almost a purr. “Rough night?”

“You could say that,” you reply, leaning against the counter, trying to ignore how your skin tingles under his gaze. “Some creeps at the diner wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

The air shifts. Paul’s head snaps up from where he’s sprawled on the couch, his grin gone. Marko freezes a bottle of soda halfway to his lips. Dwayne’s jaw tightens, his eyes narrowing. David stops moving, his gaze locking onto yours, sharp and dangerous.

“Who?” David asks, and the single word is a blade.

You shrug, trying to play it off. “Just some drunk tourists. I handled it.”

“You handled it,” Marko repeats, setting the bottle down with a thud. “What’d they do?”

“Nothing worth mentioning,” you say, but your voice wavers and you curse yourself for it. “Just… got too close. Said some shit. My boss kicked them out.”

Dwayne pushes off the wall, stepping closer. “They touch you?” His voice is quiet, but there’s a lethal edge to it that makes your heart skip.

“No,” you say quickly. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“It’s not fine,” Paul growls, sitting up. “Point ‘em out next time. We’ll handle it.”

You laugh, but it’s shaky. “What, you gonna beat up every jerk who looks at me wrong?”

“Yes,” Marko says, dead serious, and the intensity in his eyes makes your stomach flip.

David’s gloved hand cups your chin, tilting your face to meet his gaze. His touch is firm but not painful, and the heat of his stare makes your breath hitch. “No one touches what’s ours,” he says, voice low and deliberate. “No one bothers you. Ever.”

The possessiveness in his words should scare you, but it doesn’t. Instead, it sends a thrill through you, dangerous and electric. You’re not sure when you stopped being afraid of them—when their sharp edges and glowing eyes started feeling like safety instead of a threat.

“I can take care of myself,” you say, but your voice is softer now, your defiance melting under the weight of their attention.

“We know,” Dwayne says, his voice a low rumble as he steps closer, his hand brushing your arm. “But you don’t have to.”

Paul’s on his feet now, crowding in, his grin back but sharper, hungrier. “You’re ours, babe. Means we’ve got your back. Always.”

Marko’s behind you, closer than you realized, his breath cool against your neck as he murmurs, “And we don’t share.”

Your pulse races, the air thick with tension—sexual, dangerous, intoxicating. You’re surrounded, their bodies close enough that you can feel the unnatural chill of their skin, the promise of something more in every lingering touch. David’s thumb brushes your lower lip, and you swallow hard, caught in the pull of his gaze.

“Get some rest,” he says finally, stepping back and breaking the spell. “We’ll be around.”

They leave as silently as they came, the roar of their bikes fading into the night. But the weight of their promise lingers, heavy and warm, and as you crawl into bed, you know there’s no going back. You’re theirs—and you’re not sure you’d want it any other way.

[doeyeddaydream]

☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕷𝖔𝖘𝖙 𝕭𝖔𝖞𝖘

⋆˙⟡♡ PAIRING ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ Poly!Lost boys x fem reader ۶𖹭ৎ

⋆ ˚｡⋆ SYNOPSIS ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ You're wrapping up a bad shift when your eerie fang-teethed, leather clad protectors wander in, and you receive some much needed comfort.

⋆˙⟡♡ AUTHORS NOTE ˚୨୧⋆ @i-heart-slashers this was very much inspired by 'For our girl'! So giving credits for my inspo there :] if you haven't please check their blog and fics out, they've definitely thrown me back into my slasher fixation!

✧ ⁺  𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 ⋆｡˚ ⋆ implied verbal/sexual harassment towards reader from rude customers, possessiveness, implied murder at the end, tension.

☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆

Today has been horrible.

You've been holding back tears all throughout your late lunch shift. Forcing watery eyed smiles. Ducking back into the kitchen to wipe your waterline with the hem of your apron before braving the onslaught of pushy, demanding customers.

The day had started out average enough. Weaving in and out taking orders and making milkshakes, balancing trays of fries and burgers, and stacking the orders on your little clipboard.

But then someone screeches complaints about there being tomatoes in their burger- right after insisting that they must have plenty of tomatoes in their burger. You could only listen with a slack jaw and wide eyes as they throw insults at you, unsure on what to say before uttering a shaky apology. Knowing that your boss's eyes were sternly plastered on you, shaking their head in disapproval.

And then some old creep grabs your ass as you walk by a table, just trying to serve a few ice-cream sundaes. What's worse is that his wife bitterly glares at you and throws insults at your 'skimpy' uniform. That you brought it on yourself and that you've ruined their date night. You had to hold your tongue and refrain from dumping the melting sundaes over both of their heads.

Today has just not been your day.

Thankfully the diner was empty now- the last few stragglers now homebound. Their leftover bags full, and their wallets a little emptier.

The sun had settled on the ocean horizon, leaving only streetlights and shop signs to illuminate the night. Gulls cawed and ocean waves crashed in the hazy distance, music jingling from the lit up 50s stereo in the corner.

Whilst wiping down the last counter top, the bell from the entrance door chimes, and you sigh tiredly. Please just order a milkshake. The cooks are gone now. I really don't want to have anymore social interaction anymore than necessary please. I just want to lock up and hide in my bed.

David- all trouble wrapped up in black leather and bleached white hair strides in first. Slow and confident, a cigarette tucked behind his ear.

He looks at you and smiles. That soft, possessive, fond smile.

"Still open?".

They all file in one after another, Dwayne coming in last with a hand clasped upon Paul's shoulder. The two speak quietly to one another before falling silent, their glinting eyes settling on you.

The wild-haired blonde waggles his fingers in a wave with a bright smile, whilst the dark brunette looks you over. His brows furrow slightly at the glassiness in your eyes. He can feel something is wrong, you look like you've been crying. His jaw locks firmly, dark eyes set on you.

Paul idly drums the mustard and ketchup bottles on the counter top, whilst Marko wanders over to the stereo player. Closely inspecting the song choices. His hands tucked loosely in his colourful pockets.

David circles around you, finally turning away after staring so intensely to inspect the lights glimmering outside. Passing cars and fairground rides in the distance shrieking in the night sky.

They're idling around, waiting for you to finish up. You've wiped the last table down now, tossing the damp rag in the cleaners bucket.

Except for Dwayne.

Instead, he walks up to you. Standing so closely you can smell the leather of his jacket over the scent of cleaning chemicals.

"What's wrong?". Dwayne mutters softly, ducking down a little to look at you. A veil of dark hair falling down his shoulder. The softness in his eyes and the sincerity of his voice breaks you.

Your lip wobbles before you can speak, and a half whimper escapes you.

The boys heads perk up at the sound. Expressions ranging from startled to stern.

"Shit, sweetheart". Paul coos, abandoning the condiment bottles to eagerly cup your face to make you face him. His thumb brushes over the corner of your wobbly pouting lips. Catching the stray tear running down your cheek.

"Did something happen?".

You sniffle, desperate to get a hold of yourself.

"s'nothing. Just a shitty day. Shitty customers".

"Talk to us about it". Marko chimes in, his hand reaching to supportively touch your back. His touch is steadying and warm.

"It's stupid". You force out a little laugh, not entirely genuine. "Some lady complained about tomatoes after asking for extra tomatoes".

Marko makes a face, and you laugh again. Sincere this time.

"It was bad though because my boss saw and didn't know the context. He just saw me getting yelled at by a 'dissatisfied customer'. I can't lose this job, I just can't. He probably thinks I'm a bad worker".

Your voice warbles weakly, failing to sound steady and blaze.

"That's definitely not true babe. You're the best. No-one else could whip up the finest malts in Santa carla other than you, I can attest to that".

You smile a little, a soft shaky giggle leaving you.

But a fresh wave of embarrassment and upset washes over you at the other memory, and you rub tiredly at your sore eyes.

"And then some asshole grabbed me and his wife blamed me".

They all pause and tense. The energy in the room is now icy cold and tense.

"He touched you?". Dwayne mutters in a low growl. They all bristle, expressions darkening.

You wipe the stray tears off your face, and they collectively melt.

"Don't worry. It's gonna be ok, yeah? You've got us looking out for you". Marko murmurs comfortingly against your ear as he takes you into a firm embrace. Arms locking loosely around you, his finger gloved hands locked, swaying you slightly in the hug. His nose in your neck, breathing calmly.

Whimpering a soft 'thank you', you hide your face in his shoulder. Sparkly fish bait tassels tickle your cheek as your fingers tangle in his curls of gold locks.

David's fingertips brush along your jaw, his touch possessive and confident and gentle. You let him guide your face to look at him, fixed by his stare.

"You're gonna have a good day tomorrow. We promise". David whispers firmly. His voice is breathy and sincere, if not a little eerie. The way he says it makes you feel like you can believe him, for the better or the worst.

It's comforting nonetheless, and you duck your face against his shoulder for a quick hug. His arm fastens around you, squeezing firmly and rubbing your back before letting you go. His eyes still on you, looking over your disheveled state, his jaw tensing. He doesn't like seeing you upset. Not like this. Not his girl.

"I'll take you home". Dwayne whispers against your ear, pressing a comforting kiss behind it. You shudder, breath hitching in your throat, a pleasant warmth tingling over your skin. It feels like a promise. A claim.

With his leather and leopard print clad arm around you, you miss the look he shares with David, who only nods in approval.

The bell chimes for the last time tonight as you lock it behind you, the building now falls in silence and darkness. Dwayne's arm is still loosely nestled around your waist whilst the other boys hop down to their bikes, parting ways with you. Paul nestles his nose against your temple, inhaling the scent of your hair with a breathy groan before bidding you a goodnight. Marko smiles reassuringly at you, his cherub face and gold curls hiding the tension inside him. The tension to eat. Kill.

David and him share a look, before he utters a soft murmur of your name and a 'goodnight'.

Dwayne takes you, as promised. Saddled behind him on his bike. They watch you both depart into the night before turning to the sound of the boardwalk, a cruel glint shining in their eyes.

David's lips curl into a predatory smile. Eyes glinting in the streetlights and neon signs.

"You got their scents Marko?".

The blonde sniffs, finding a trace of a man's scent leading off towards the beach. Embracing you was good for more than just comfort, he could smell them on you.

"Sure do David". Marko smirks, playful and dark. They all chuckle, satisfied.

"Let's go grab a bite to eat boys".

[the-avengers-not-the-nazis]

Nothing. And I mean NOTHING. Can ever out hot the carousel scene from The Lost Boys

[kissofmourningdeath]

I need to tear that man apart with my teeth(positive)

[witchymommy27]

Born to have good taste, forced to find THAT attractive.

[ghoastixx]

I have come back once more with a ~request~

Slashers with a g/n reader who just has INSANE reflexes.

They'll be trying to catch thing before they even fell down. Oh there's a fly in the house? Not anymore they caught it within a second of seeing it. Someone's attacking them? WRONG. That person is getting attacked by THEM. It's almost like they have a sixth sense for it-

However this also makes them really overly careful. You try to give them a high five? You're on the floor within second cause they thought you're trying to hit them. You wanna hug them? Geez at least give them a warning before you try and kill them through suffocation!!

Lots and lots of love, take care of yourself. Eat something today, drink something, get a healthy amount of sleep!!! Mwah mwah

-KITZY

Slashers with an significant other with insane reflexes

Author's note: My dear KITZY!!!!! Hello my loveee!!! Thank you so much for the request once again, I adore your mind. I am currently preparing for a musical right now, so I am insanely hydrated, and very very tired, constantly! You take care of yourself my dear and send me more requests to fulfill!! Mwah mwah!!

What to watch out for!: Nothing too awful in this one, just some teasing

Bo Sinclair:

He finds your reflexes very helpful

He's working in the garage and all of a sudden he knocks something over or bumps into something and you just catch it before it hits the floor? Everytime? Wonderful.

He really likes that he doesn't really have to worry about you taking care of your own. He doesn't like to worry about people, let alone your safety. Knowing you can handle yourself is just less off his shoulders.

He does get somewhat annoyed by how skittish this makes you.

Like, baby calm down, he just pushed down on your shoulders while standing behind you, he's not going to suffocate you.

I don't think he would give you any good warning before touching you, maybe just grunts.

If you jump when he touches you he gets pissed off and walks away, expects you to apologize to him.

He secretly wonders if you are scared of him.

Vincent Sinclair:

He likes this

If he has a victim loose in the basement and they accidentally bump into something, his hard work plummeting to the floor, only for his lovely muse to swoop in and save the day!!

With him being nonverbal and all, he would definitely struggle with warnings before touching you.

All it took was him witnessing you violently pull from his touch one time before he decided he needed a new approach at this.

He will always make himself physically known to you before trying anything, reaching out for you like you were an injured animal.

He just doesn't want to startle you with his inability.

Lester Sinclair:

I feel like he's a little oblivious

(Sorry Lester fans, throw tomatoes at me)

Bubba Sawyer:

He thinks it's really cool

Bubba is really clumsy (My headcanon at least) so having you around to prevent any accidents while working it a big plus!! Especially while he is 'working.'

Is very grateful that you are so patient with him, he can't help his clumsiness, he really tries.

Seeing you so skittish makes him really sad, and if you don't immediately reassure him, it's so much worse for him.

He just wants to be able to love you as freely as you love him

I feel like he would be a little stumped, not really knowing what he was supposed to do, or how to fix it, so he just acts like there is no solution and keeps doing it with the same expected outcome.

Nubbins Sawyer:

I don't exactly think Nubbins is clumsy, more so, erratic.

Sometimes he thinks his limbs have a mind of their own, moving and twitching without him meaning too, so much like Bubba, he is very happy to have someone around to prevent disaster.

"Woah babe, close one-"

I believe he is also insanely skittish, so there is good verbal communication either way.

Chop-Top Sawyer:

He wants to be annoyed, he really does.

He could actually care less that you can move fast, or keep almost everything from falling, at first he was impressed but he just does not give a shit anymore.

I'd say his own reflexes are okay, nothing special, but a little more enhanced from Vietnam.

He wants to be annoyed that you are so skittish, that you fight back when he tries to sneak up on you, but he honestly can't be. He is skittish too.

The war ruined him guys.

Billy Lenz:

You poor thing.

Billy LOVESSSS you.

Well, sometimes he gets pissed, like when he's having a tantrum and wants to throw the phone or make a mess and you don't allow it.

But other than that, with how sporadic his own movements are as well, you keep him pretty straight.

The bad part of this whole thing though, is he loves to watch you fight him when he tries to touch you. He loves to watch you squirm and get all scared and then pissy when he tries to touch you

Your reactions fuel him, and he will not stop no matter how many times you may ask him to.

Otis Driftwood:

He thinks that it is so hot, but it annoys him to no end.

He thinks it is so hot when the victim knocks the gun out of his hand, but his sexy partner had already scooped it up and managed to get it back into Otis's hands.

That makes him all hot and bothered

What he doesn't find hot at all and annoys him is your constant jumping and flinching and fighting back.

At first he thought it was also hot, he likes to see fear

but then it happened so much, all the time, he got so annoyed so fast.

"If I wanted to date a little bunny, I'd go find one in the woods."

But he will not stop, he can't be bothered.

A never ending cycle of annoyedness.

Baby Firefly:

She will intentionally try to knock things over or push things off the table like a cat just to see you catch them. She likes to take shots at you just to see you duck out of the way.

She thinks your skittishness is endearing.

She thinks she can 'break' you of it, 'tame' you.

She is ruthless in her affection.

Billy Loomis and Stu Macher:

You're both like their own little science experiment,

They are both very different in their ways of it, though

Billy is more reserved about it, tries not to make it as obvious with his little tests.

He will just pretend to drop something from his locker or spill a drink or something small like that, just to see if you can catch them or readjust before it even falls.

Stu, on the other hand, flat out just chucks things at you to watch you catch them.

Billy understands your skittish behavior a bit more, but that doesn't mean he won't purposely startle you or grab you just to watch you fight back.

Stu acts like a kicked puppy.

Rob Zombie Halloween:

Oh you are so cute.

Your reflexes definitely are what got him interested in you in the first place.

He studies you like you are a bug.

You know he is doing it to, you just have to humor him.

He likes to watch you struggle with touch though

He may or may not purposefully lead victims to you just because he knows that you can handle your own, just so he can watch.

He thinks you're like a scared little bunny, frightened when his giant hands cup you, he will not stop.

Brahms Heelshire:

It is 100% a game of just how much can Brahms get away with.

Is it really misbehaving if you catch it???

He does not like you being so skittish in response to him though,

it makes him insecure.

Hannibal Lecter and Will Graham:

Will could literally not give two shits.

He might make the occasional joke about it, but other than that, he doesn't find any particular fascination in it.

Hannibal, on the other hand, does.

He does little tests, but he informs you that they are tests, to see if it would slow your natural reaction.

He can have you broken of your little skittish habit, and he will.

Carrie White:

Honestly, all I can say is that it is pretty normal. She finds it useful, and she is also pretty skittish,

The Lost Boys:

With all the trouble these boys can cause, it's good to have you and your reflexes around.

Walking through shops on the boardwalk, the boys will be too rough around shelves or racks and knock things over, only for you to save them from a whole situation and becoming banned in more places than they already are.

Dwayne does not really bother with playing with your reflexes and will scold the others, you aren't a toy. He always gives a heads up before he touches you, or even sits next to you when you do not expect it.

David just likes to watch, often making you 'fetch.' He won't say anything if you flinch away from him, he will act like it did not happen.

Paul will literally knock things over to see if you can catch them, sulks when you flinch,

Marko throws things at you, determined to make you falter. If he ever startles you, he instantly makes sure to apologize.

"Sorry baby, forgot again."

[l0stglitch]

Hello, odd question. With the platonic lost boys and reader would you feel comfortable to make one that depicted how they would act and feel if the reader had killed themselves due to the constant emotional and psychological abuse when they found the reader too far gone to turn into a vampire and the time afterwards? If you are comfortable of course there is no pressure. Thank you for the good stories.

The innocent can never last

Platonic yandere lost boys x reader

Notes- Ok this is a bit DARK… and also not cannon to my au. The title is a Green Day lyric because I feel like that song pretty much sums up this fic ☹️

Warnings- Exetreme physical and psychological abuse, Suicide, Murder, Marko being a creep, Corpse decomposition

Word count- 6857

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ The only noise that penetrates the eerie silence of your room is the sound of your laboured breathing. You listen with your eyes closed to the unnatural wheezing of your lungs. From the sharp pain in your chest, it’s safe to assume you have at least one broken rib. You briefly wonder if your fathers feel remorse for what had happened, but quickly dismiss the idea. If they had felt anything, they would’ve stopped long before you reached this state. No, they don’t give a shit. Not anymore. 

There’s only one mirror in your room, and you haven’t dared look at it. The relentless pulsing beneath the fragile skin of your face tells you all you need to know, and a small part of you worries that the person you’ll see looking back at you will be unrecognisable. 

Their cruelty is a mystery to you. It always has been. Their desire to keep you safe and protected seems to be constantly contradicted by their primal desire to harm. To kill. You had done little to elicit such a reaction from them, but these days, it doesn’t take much. One snide comment and the fuse is lit. 

Despite your countless injuries, the worst pain you feel is the awful constricting of your throat. A clear warning sign of tears. You don’t want to cry. Not over them, but there’s no denying that your wounds run far deeper than your marred skin. They don’t care about you. Your so-called fathers had stood and watched as you crumpled up into a helpless ball on the floor, cradling your injuries and begging for mercy. Begging for comfort. Even Dwayne had regarded you with cold indifference, his dark eyes seeming awfully yellow under the flickering ambience of the fire. 

They had been your everything as a child, and for a long time, it seemed that they had reciprocated that. Now though, you often wonder why you’re still alive. The blissful days of your childhood are long gone, and now all that remains is the unforgiving reality of the present. You slowly find yourself coming to the grave conclusion that there is only one card left up your sleeve, and now seems like a fitting time to draw it.

One final act of defiance. An act that will free you from them forever.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

A frustrated sigh escapes David’s lips as his thumb grazes uselessly against the sparkwheel of the lighter. “Fuckin’ lighter’s out of fuel,” He states gruffly, carelessly tossing it onto the ground near where Dwayne is sitting. 

The brunette regardes it with little interest, before lifting his gaze to meet David’s scowl. “It’s not out. I used that thing earlier.” 

“Then how come it doesn’t fucking work?” David snaps back, his voice laced with impatience. Dwayne’s cool indifference to everything is beginning to piss him off. He’d welcomed that attitude earlier- during your punishment, but now that it’s directed at him, he’s not so keen.

“Maybe cause your hand is shaking so much.” 

“Will you quit being such a smartass?” David growls, his eyes flickering yellow for a brief moment before he continues. “I’ve put up with enough shit today already. Don’t need you being a dick on top of that.”

There’s movement from the shadows as Marko emerges into the light, holding a half-empty bottle of beer between two fingers. “To be fair, you did ask. Can’t be too mad.”

David huffs humorlessly, but doesnt reply. It’s clear that all four of them are troubled by what had happened earlier. The air’s still thick with tension, and David knows that the others are waiting for him to make the next call. He won’t though- at least, not yet. This is what you require. Discipline. Pain. He needs to be sure that when they finally turn you, there will be no doubt of your loyalty to the pack. 

Despite telling himself that over and over, David finds that he can’t extinguish the flicker of doubt that remains in the back of his mind. Looking down at your pitiful form earlier, he had discovered that he had been scarcely able to recognise you. That potential he had previously seen in you seemed lost within your wide, bloodshot eyes. It had spooked him enough to forget that it was his daughter he was beating to near death, and not just another teenage runaway.

“You guys hear that?”

Paul’s vague question drags David from his morbid pondering. All four vampires fall silent for a moment, listening intently, before Marko speaks.

“What the hell are you talking about man? I can’t hear shit.” 

Paul frowns and glances over in the direction of your room, “Exactly. I can’t hear her.”

David is suddenly made aware of an unsettling sensation rising from his gut at the realisation. For a brief moment, he locks eyes with Dwayne, until said man suddenly seems to snap out of his trance and rushes over to your room with panicked urgency. 

David reaches your room only seconds after Dwayne. He must have smashed his way in, as your door is hanging precariously from its hinges and is disrupted by a large, splintery gash down the centre. 

The sound made by Dwayne is unlike anything the others have ever heard from him. It’s a raw cry of anger and despair. An expression of gut wrenching emotions too painful to be spoken- too powerful to be contained by mere words. Your father drops to the floor before your body as if he’s been physically wounded and begins shaking.

David watches in horrified silence. At first glance, you appear to be leaning crookedly against the wall. Upon taking a step closer though, the rope around your neck becomes visible, and David realises that you had somehow hung yourself from one of the old shelves of the hotel. From the awkward angle your head is tilted, he assumes that you had broken your neck in the effort to suffocate yourself, which explains why none of them had heard your struggle earlier.

It’s difficult to tell how long you have been dead, though David knows it could have only been a couple minutes at most. He curses himself for not checking on you sooner. How had Paul realised before he had? None of this would have happened if he hadn’t been so fucking stubborn and just gone to check you for injuries. But no, instead he had left you by yourself to deal with all your shit- and what did you do? You killed yourself. You gave up before they had the chance to cool off and apologise for taking it too far. You died in pain alone and it was all his fucking fault.

A sudden, overwhelming wave of anger washes over David, and he finds himself storming past Dwayne over to your body. With shaking hands, he yanks on the rope until it tears away from the wall, bringing the crooked shelf down with it. Your lifeless form falls forwards for a split second, before a pair of leather-clad hands grips your upper arms tightly and slams you back against the hard, stone wall.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?” David roars, his eyes fixed intently on your ashen face as if expecting you to reply. In response, your head lolls to the side unapologetically, as if shrugging at the question with your usual teenage attitude. 

“That fucking bitch.” He spits, turning back to the others and throwing your corpse onto the floor with the shelf and rope still attached. David watches in disgust as Dwayne scrambled over to your body and cradles it to his chest, as if protecting you from the brunt of his anger.

“She’s fucking dead, Dwayne! She’s dead. You can’t-” He can’t bring himself to finish his sentence. You can’t bring her back. Dwayne’s too consumed by his own grief to even realise he’s being screamed at, and the other two… David suddenly shifts his teary eyed gaze up to the doorway to look at them.

Paul seems unable to process the reality of what had happened. His eyes are fixed on Dwayne, though he appears uncomfortable with the sight, as if witnessing such an uninhibited display of emotion has made him feel ill. “I uh-” Paul drags his eyes up to meet David’s as he speaks, “I’m gonna go. I need air.” 

Of course you do.

David watches unsympathetically as he leaves, brows knitted tightly together as if deep in thought. Really though, it’s the complete opposite. His mind is a storm of emotion- too loud to be translated into words. He jerks his head in Marko’s direction and abruptly speaks. “You gonna leave too, huh? Run away from your problems like you always fucking do?” The words spill from David’s mouth without much thought, their meaning lost to him the moment they leave his tongue. 

Marko just blinks wordlessly. His eyes hold a haunted look that doesn’t quite reach David’s icy stare. For a moment, the room is frozen in a strained state of despair, until Marko takes one final look at your body and leaves.

And then, David is alone. At least, that’s what it feels like. Dwayne is still inconsolable, so rather than attempting to offer up any words of comfort, David turns around and walks, almost robotically, back to the main chamber. When he gets there the space is empty, so he assumes that Marko and Paul must have left to process your death alone. 

For the first time in years, the cave is silent. It feels… unnatural. David shifts his weight between his feet to try and alleviate his discomfort. There’s a crawling sensation beneath his skin that makes him want to tear it all off, but he won’t. You don’t deserve that much of a reaction.

Instead, David takes a decisive step closer to the old water fountain and picks up a half empty bottle of Jack Daniel’s. The amber liquid gently rocks from within the glass, as if encouraging him to drink. A small part of him begs to put down the whiskey and mourn for his daughter, but all his grief is buried beneath thick layers of anger, so instead he unscrews the lid and brings the rim up to his lips.

The alcohol slides down his tongue with practiced ease and leaves his throat feeling pleasantly burned. David stands there for a moment after the first sip, eyes fixed intently on the drink as he contemplates what to do next. Marko and Paul have left, and Dwayne won’t leave your side. That means he won’t have to worry about anyone coming to him for comfort. Not that anyone wants my comfort. He frowns slightly at the thought, but doesn’t dwell on it. Instead, David shifts his focus back to the situation at hand. He isn’t used to feeling unsure about things, so his first instinct is to drink. That would be appropriate wouldn’t it? You wouldn’t have wanted him to cry over your death. It would be hypocritical to push you to take such a drastic measure and then get upset over it. 

After your fight earlier, after everything he’d said, it had certainly seemed like he’d wanted you dead. Is that why you did it? David grips the bottle tightly and takes another swig. He can feel guilt beginning to seep in through the cracks of his resentment, and it makes him feel sick. David knows that it will only be a matter of time until he breaks. Until then, the only thing he can think to do is drink away all traces of emotion.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Rain falls from the sky in fat, angry droplets as Marko races along the narrow dirt track. His legs feel cold as mud sprays onto his jeans, making them stiff against his skin. He pays little attention to his discomfort, though, as he pushes the bike to move faster down the path. 

Eventually, the track begins to widen, and Marko tentatively loosens his grip on the throttle, allowing the bike to roll through the thick sludge. He slows to a stop just outside the entrance to the boardwalk and dismounts the vehicle, leaving it awkwardly propped up in the way. The rain only seems to be getting worse as Marko walks aimlessly through the boardwalk. It’s pretty much deserted, which provides him some comfort. At least he can grieve in peace. He takes notice of how the warm glow of the street lamps makes the droplets seem golden as they hit the glistening sidewalk, and the way the moon is veiled by a few thin clouds, as if in mourning.

You would have appreciated tonight’s beauty, Marko thinks, frowning at the sudden aching of his heart. He’s felt pain before, but nothing compares to this. It’s as if a part of him has been agonisingly carved out, leaving nothing but a dark, gaping wound that yearns for your company. Part of him wants to scream for you the way Dwayne did- to allow his feelings to swallow him whole and reduce him to the pain he feels, but he can’t. So instead, he swallows back the lump in his throat and blinks away his tears, allowing them to be washed away with the cool rain that streams down his face. 

Marko inhales the winter air somewhat shakily as he ponders on what to do. Truthfully, he isn’t sure why he drove himself here in the first place. The rain has completely soaked through his clothes and hair, and upon noticing this, he suddenly feels silly for coming all this way. Sure, the drive had helped distract him somewhat, but now that he’s here all by himself, his emotions only seem to be coming back worse than before.

Flashes of your sightless stare keep coming back in sickening waves, and Marko isn’t sure whether he wants to scream or cry. How could such an insignificant human like yourself have wormed your way into his life, only to suddenly disappear and leave him with nothing?

You were supposed to live forever. 

Marko clenches his fists as his pace quickens. He allows himself to indulge in fantasies of turning you, and imagines taking you on your first hunt. He thinks about the way your eyes would shine a brilliant gold as you tear into the flesh of your first victim, and how he’d tenderly wipe the blood from your mouth after. 

If only they hadn’t waited so long. 

Marko abruptly stops walking as a familiar scent graces his nose. Through the heavy scent of rain he detects the sweet tang of blood coming from somewhere nearby, and after a couple seconds of straining his ears, he can hear the steady beating of a heart. A small part of him wonders if it’s appropriate to kill someone so soon after your death, but his instincts are stronger than whatever shred of morality he has left, so he shakes off the thought and allows his bloodlust to guide his movements.

Once close enough, Marko stands perfectly still behind a pillar and draws in another breath. His whole body suddenly stiffens at the familiarity of it. For a split second, Marko is convinced that you’ve risen from the dead, but then he hears a barely audible hiss, and his shoulders drop in defeat. That fucking cat.

Your cat, Pumpkin, has a tendency to disappear for days at a time. Marko fondly recalls how worried you used to get when she’d run away, though his mood quickly sours as he remembers how disinterested you had been lately in regards to her whereabouts. You probably hadn’t even noticed she’d been gone. 

Marko carefully peers round the pillar, his eyes zeroing in on the scene before him. A few feet away, a woman is crouched in front of the small black cat. He notices how she’s cradling one hand in another, and makes the assumption that Pumpkin must have scratched her. A slight smirk tugs at Marko’s lips, and he feels an odd sense of pride. Your cat had basically led him to his next meal.

Unable to wait any longer, he casually ambles over, allowing his heavy footsteps to alert the stranger of his presence. She startles at the sound, whipping round to stare at him from under the bright hood of her windbreaker. Much to Marko’s surprise, the face he’s met with seems a lot closer in age to you than he had expected. It catches him off guard, but he is quick to regain his composure. 

“You uh- you seem awfully young to be hanging out here in the rain all by yourself,” He says, trying to find the perfect balance of intimidating yet somewhat trustworthy. 

The girl looks him up and down, and Marko is reminded of the state of his appearance. His clothes are splattered with mud, and his hair is likely so wet that the weight of it has reduced his curls to loose waves.

“You seem pretty young yourself,” She replies, confusion evident on her face as she cocks her head slightly. 

Marko quirks a brow at that, “I’m a lot older than you think.”

“Oh, really?” The girl’s demeanour suddenly shifts, and her eyes seem to darken with unspoken desire as she slowly stands up and closes the gap between them.

For a moment, Marko considers indulging in her little game, intoxicated by the scent of her teenage hormones, but then he remembers your tortured, dead eyes and is hit with a wave of nausea. She’s your age.

All he can muster as a reply is a simple “Mhm,” as he brings a gloved hand up to her throat and moves closer, leaning in so that his lips are mere millimetres away from her ear. It takes him a moment to get his words out, too overwhelmed by the sudden onslaught of emotions assaulting his mind. “My daughter killed herself today. Do you know what that feels like? Seeing your kid’s dead body hanging from a noose?”

Marko pulls away and regards her horrified expression hungrily, slowly increasing the pressure on her neck. “I- I’m so sorry.. I didn’t realise you- I mean, you don’t look-”

“I asked you a fucking question. Do you know what that feels like?”

The girl shakes her head in response, clearly too frightened to speak.

Marko scoffs, “Of course you don’t. Your pathetic species is incapable of feeling emotions the same way mine does.” He pauses for a moment to inhale the scent of her fear before continuing, “She was worth so much more than you’ll ever be… and yet she’s dead and you’re here. It just doesn’t make any fucking sense.”

By now, the girl is trembling in his grip, staring at him through tearful eyes as she tries to stutter out a response, only to be cut off again.

“Do your parents love you? Do you think they’ll miss you?”

Marko can’t tell if his prey is actually nodding or if she’s just shaking too much. He doesn’t particularly care either way. “I guess there’s only one way to find out...”

The girl releases a choked scream as Marko’s hand slips down to her shoulder to make space for his mouth. In an instant, his teeth are latched onto the tender skin of her neck and he begins tearing away at the flesh. He can feel her desperately clawing at his jacket as his tongue pushes deep into the wound, savouring the metallic tang. 

Blood begins flowing more quickly into his mouth, running down his chin and getting caught in his hair as he shoves his victim into the wall of the souvenir shop behind her. The impact seems to drive his fangs further into her throat, as he feels a warm spray hit his nose and another gush of blood spill onto his tongue.

There’s one more slap against his bicep before the girl suddenly becomes limp in his grip and falls completely into his arms.

Marko physically recoils at the motion, roughly shoving the body away from him and taking a step back to glare at it. Blood continues gushing from her mangled neck, but he decides not to drink anymore of it. He doesn’t need to. This girl hadn’t died to be his prey; she had died because it was what she deserved. It was what her parents deserved too. The whole world should suffer the same anguish as him.

He stares at the body for what feels like hours, until a soft purring breaks his trance. Marko looks down to see your cat rubbing up against his legs. His first instinct is to kick it away, but something stops him. The action feels familiar, almost identical to how you used to hug his legs when you were little. 

With a resigned sigh, Marko bends down and scoops the cat up into his arms, staring deeply into her orange eyes. “She’s dead. It’s just you and me now.”

Pumpkin shows no signs of understanding him, but he knows that deep down she feels your absence as strongly as he does. That alone brings him more comfort than any amount of killing ever could. 

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Paul isn’t sure what he’s doing here. His bike has been parked on Max’s driveway for a good ten minutes now, but he still can’t bring himself to cross that damn bridge and knock on the door. Chances are, Max knows he’s here, so why hasn’t he come out? 

The rain seems to be pouring down heavier and heavier, as if urging him to do something. Paul throws back his head and runs his fingers through his wet, tangled hair with a groan. He feels pathetic coming to Max, but there isn’t anyone else to go to. Your absence feels like a stake to the heart, and he doesn’t know how to cope with the gaping hole that’s opened up inside him. David’s pissed, Marko’s gone, and Dwayne? Paul isn’t sure Dwayne will ever be the same again.

After a few more minutes of contemplation, he finally musters up enough willpower to walk across the bridge and knock on the front door, only having to wait a couple of seconds before it swings open. 

The expression on Max’s face makes Paul feel even more pitiful than he had before. His brows are stiffly furrowed, and his dark eyes hold an unusual mixture of sympathy and disdain. Neither men speak for a moment as they regard each other wearily. 

“You look awful.”

Paul tries to feign a laugh, but all that comes out is a tired huff. “I know.” 

“Would you like to come in?”

Well duh. I didn’t drive all this way just to stand on your porch.

Paul doesn’t vocalise the snarky reply that had leapt to the forefront of his mind. Instead, he nods meekly and steps inside without another word, grateful to be out of the vicious storm. Max is quick to close the door behind him. He regards Paul’s state with a displeased frown, noting how much water is dripping off clothes and onto the door mat. “Here- let me take that jacket off you.” His voice is gentle, although there’s a hint of authority in his words as he helps Paul out of the leather. 

“Sorry for turnin’ up like this- unannounced I mean.” He mumbles, not failing to notice the way Max is gingerly holding his jacket like it’s contaminated with some infectious disease. 

“It’s no problem,” Max replies as he fixes it onto the coat hanger, caught off guard by Paul’s manners. “When was the last time you fed?” He asks, leading the younger vampire through to the kitchen. 

Paul perks up slightly at the question, his eyes darting around the dimly lit room in search of a potential victim. “Why, you got someone in here for us to kill?”

Max stops in front of the fridge, “Well, not exactly…” He grips the metal handle and slowly opens the door to reveal what must be at least a hundred blood bags.

Paul’s shoulders slump in disappointment. “I’m not drinking that crap.”

“I understand that you’re upset Paul, but starving yourself of blood won’t make the pain go away. It’ll only make you weaker, and that’s not what you need right now.” 

Paul shifts slightly in discomfort, fighting to maintain a respectful attitude towards the senior vampire. “I don’t see how your shitty blood bags are supposed to make me feel any better about my kid committing suicide.” Saying the words out loud makes him realise the permanency of your death and fills him with an overwhelming sense of dread. You’re gone. Forever. He’ll never see your smile, or feel the warmth of your touch again. 

The kitchen starts spinning, and Paul stumbles back in a drunken manner. For the first time since he became a vampire, he feels scared. Everything had been so meticulously planned out that the possibility of a life without you hadn’t even crossed his mind before. He doesn’t know what to do.

A strong pair of hands suddenly grips Paul’s shoulders, pulling him from his spiralling thoughts. “Hey- listen to me. You boys will be ok. I know it hurts, and I know you miss her, but you’ll get through this. She wouldn’t want to see you getting this upset.”

Paul realises he must have been crying, because his face feels hot and sticky. He self consciously wipes away the tears and averts his gaze towards the floor, “I just wish she knew how much we cared about her. I know sometimes we-” Paul’s voice cracks as he speaks, “Sometimes we’d get carried away and hurt her, but that doesn’t mean we don’t love her.”

Max sighs and soothingly rubs Paul’s shoulders. “It’s not your fault Paul. She was a troubled child- something like this was bound to happen.”

In an instant the atmosphere seems to shift. All vulnerability in Paul’s face is gone as his jaw stiffens and his brows knit tightly into a frown. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, this isn’t the first time she’s had a depressive episode. David told me about how she used to hurt herself when she got upset, and how she’d steal your drugs. That’s how this whole ordeal started, isn’t it? David found the pills in her drawer.”

Paul bristles, “What are you trying to say Max? That something was wrong with her?”

“What I’m saying is that she was angry and unstable. The only reason she did this to herself was because she couldn’t do it to you. Had she been a vampire, it might have been one of you boys who ended up dead instead.” 

Logic gives way to anger as Paul shoves Max away from him. His teeth are bared in a savage display of aggression and his golden eyes glare wildly at the man before him. “My daughter would never do that, you don’t know what you’re talking about. She loved us just as much as we loved her, she just had trouble communicating that sometimes.”

Despite all his instincts screaming at him to retaliate, Max doesn’t react. He turns away from Paul and puts the blood bag back into the fridge with a sigh, before finally speaking. “I think you should leave. Go back to the cave and spend some time with the others- you shouldn’t try and navigate something like this alone.”

Paul scoffs in disbelief, “You’re kicking me out? My kid just died and you’re telling me to leave?”

“I can’t offer you the comfort you’re looking for.” The room falls silent. Max is still turned away, refusing to look Paul in the eye. 

“You know what? Fine. I don’t need you- coming here was a stupid idea.” 

Paul doesn’t wait for a reply. He marches through the poorly lit house, only stopping to snatch his leather jacket from the coat hanger before yanking the front door open in frustration. He can hear Max approaching from behind, but decides not to acknowledge his presence. Anger still burns hotly beneath his skin, and Paul knows that speaking his mind could risk a vicious fight sparking between them. One that may cost him his life.

“I need to talk to David. Tell him I expect a visit within the next few days.”

Paul’s only response is a silent nod. He waits for a moment to make sure Max has nothing else to say and then steps out into the rain. The door slams behind him with a heavy thud that's quickly followed by the soft clicking of a lock. 

“Fuck.” Paul spits out the word like it had personally wronged him. He can feel his eyes becoming wet again with the promise of more tears, but he makes no move to wipe them away. They aren’t gentle this time- these ones sting like acid and roll down his cheeks alongside the rain. Paul ignores them and walks dejectedly back to his bike. His Aerosmith t-shirt is already drenched, but he puts on his jacket anyway, grimacing slightly in discomfort as he wrestles his arms through the heavy sleeves. 

The bike waits patiently for him to mount it. Under the soft glow of the streetlight, the red paint appears more of a burnt orange, and Paul can see each individual raindrop plummeting down and splashing against his leather seat. He doesn’t bother to wipe it away, considering the weather has already ruined his white pants- a bit more rainwater won’t make a difference. Paul grips the handlebars and swings a leg over the hunk of metal with practiced ease. He takes a moment to adjust himself before twisting round to take one more look at the house.

You used to love visiting Uncle Max when you were little. Paul remembers the way you’d skip down his bridge, often tripping over your feet in your hurry to greet Thorn. Thinking about how happy you used to be somehow makes your father feel even worse. He knows that among the sharp claws of grief that tear at his heart, there’s something darker lurking. A vicious guilt he’s repressed for years- for the life they thrusted upon you, which you inevitably destroyed. You had every right to, as even after everything you had endured, it still belonged to you. 

And my life still belongs to me. Paul’s thoughts turn dark as he slowly begins to understand the pain you must have felt to commit to something so final. Was this your plan- to infect them with your suffering? He casts his gaze over to the sky, wondering if you’re watching him from above. Would you want him to do this? The sun has yet to paint the horizon gold, but judging by the dreary blueish-grey that has taken over the earlier darkness, Paul knows it won’t be long until sunrise. He’s running out of time to choose. Stay or go; live or die. The decision comes down to one question he never thought he’d have to answer: you or them.

Paul closes his eyes and listens to the gentle ambiance of the early morning. He prays to you for guidance- for any indication of what to do, but receives no answer. This choice is for him to make alone. 

He knows what he must do.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Time has lost its meaning. Dwayne doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting on your cold floor with a stillness that could rival an ancient statue. Maybe he’s only been here for a few hours… or maybe it’s been days. It’s all the same now. No one has dared to check on him yet. It must seem distasteful for them to enter the site of such a tragedy. Perhaps they feel it is not their place to infiltrate what had once been your safe haven. They’re wrong. He thinks, finally moving a hand to trace the side of your face with his thumb. This place is just a room. It may be your room, but it’s still just a room. 

It was him that made you feel safe, not your bedroom. Dwayne knows that in the past few weeks he had been failing at that. It should make him feel guilty- it did at first. He had cried and screamed your name until his throat was dry and swallowing became painful. Then it all went away. All the grief and guilt he felt was gone, and in its place came an unsettling calmness he has never felt before. Acceptance.

He’s come to terms with this reality. You’ll never wake up, but that's ok; you don’t need to. Dwayne is content with holding you in his lap. He wants to savour every last moment with you before he’s truly ready to let go. Perhaps that’s why he’s afraid to leave your room. That would mean moving away from what has happened, and he can’t do that yet. 

Once he does though, he knows that he’ll be ok. Dwayne isn’t afraid to die anymore, in fact he is quietly longing for the end of his life. The past feels like some hazy dream, and the future is incomprehensible. All that exists now is the present, which he will continue to live in until even that becomes unrecognisable. And then I will be free to join you forever, my precious girl.

A sudden thud against your doorframe drags Dwayne from his thoughts, though he makes no move to even look at the people there. He already knows that it’s David and Marko.

“Hey man…” Marko’s voice sounds rough and tired, taking on an uncharacteristically serious tone. “I- We think it’s time we should bury her.”

Dwayne tenses and brings your body up to his chest, still refusing to look in Marko’s direction. “No, she’s not ready yet. Give us more time.”

“You’ve been in here for a week, Dwayne. Cmon, you can’t hold on to her forever.” Dwayne finally snaps his head round to look at them when he hears Marko taking a step closer. He’s holding a small black cat in his arms with a defeated look on his face. Dwayne instantly notices the redness of his eyes, and realises that this might be the first time he has ever seen Marko cry.

Behind him, David is leaning unsteadily against the doorframe. The expression on his face suggests he might have something to say, but Dwayne assumes by the way he’s struggling to hold himself up that he’s too drunk to piece together something meaningful enough to say. If he wasn’t in such a state himself, maybe he would’ve found the sight of them pathetic. Instead, it only reinforces what he already knew. The pack won’t be able to manage without you. 

“Where’s Paul?”

Marko shifts uncomfortably, averting his gaze to the floor. “We haven’t seen him since she…” He trails off and gestures towards you, unable to finish his sentence.

“So you wanna do this without him?” Dwayne asks flatly, his eyes flicking towards the cat. Why was that stupid thing here? He’d sort of hoped it had run away, or been hit by a car.

“We can’t wait for him anymore. I mean, for all we know he could be- he might not come back.” 

Dwayne doesn’t speak. Beneath the cold apathy that has numbed his mind, there’s traces of sadness. Not for Paul, who likely is dead, but for Marko. He looks completely defeated: shoulders slumped and head heavy as he glances back up at Dwayne. There’s a sliver of hope in his eyes, as if he’s quietly optimistic that things will get better. 

My death will push him over the edge. Dwayne thinks as he frowns at Marko, suddenly unsure about whether or not killing himself would be a good idea. Is this really the end? He can’t imagine a future without you, and now that Paul may be gone too, things seem even more bleak. What does Marko see in the ruins of their lives that’s worth living for?

“It doesn’t even look like her anymore…” Huh? The statement catches Dwayne off guard. He had expected Marko to press him to speak, or try and offer some words of comfort- not this.

“Look at her. Actually look at her this time. That’s not our kid anymore, that’s a dead body. She’s gone.” Dwayne reluctantly shifts his gaze back down to your face and looks at you properly. Not through those rose tinted lenses of who you had been, but through the clear, cold truth. No filters this time, no memories, just fact. And the fact is, Marko is right. Your skin is tinged with green and peeling away like layers of old wallpaper. His heart sinks. It’s time to let you go.

“I don’t wanna do it either, but we can’t just sit here watching her rot away.”

Dwayne slowly nods and carefully stands up, still tightly clinging onto your body. He can feel his joints clicking and legs trembling with the effort of moving after such a long period of stillness. 

“So this is it. Nearly a decade of raising that child, and now we’re gonna bury her.” He’d forgotten that David was here too, leaning against the doorframe looking slightly dazed, as if he hadn’t expected those words to come slurring out his mouth. 

Dwayne bristles slightly and shoots him a glare, “I’d hardly say you raised her. You didn’t do shit.” To his surprise, David doesn’t argue back. His brows twitch slightly and he averts his gaze, as if in shame. 

Marko rests a placating hand on Dwayne’s shoulder, having to reach up slightly due to the height difference, “Now’s not the time. We’re all upset- and he’s been drinking non-stop since she died. He isn’t in the right frame of mind for this.”

When did Marko of all people become the peacekeeper around here? Dwayne muses, surprised by how composed he has kept himself. I suppose people tend to react differently in a time of crisis. 

Marko’s hand leaves Dwayne’s shoulder as he leads the two remaining members of their pack through the cave. It’s more cluttered and unkept than he remembers, with glass bottles (some empty, others not) laying discarded all over the floor and on just about every surface there is. The whole area reeks of vodka and beer and… weed? 

“He’s been smoking?” Dwayne murmurs, eying David as he stumbles towards the cave entrance, either not knowing or not caring about the conversation going on behind him. 

Marko shrugs tiredly, “I think he got into Paul’s weed stash. I mean, someone might as well smoke it, since he’s not here.” A heavy silence falls between the two men. They hadn’t stopped to grieve Paul yet. Maybe because they can’t cope with acknowledging another loss right now, or maybe they’re still clinging to the hope that he’s out there somewhere, mourning all by himself. 

They finally reach the top of the cliff, where three bikes have been left to bask under the soft glow of the moon. David is standing right at the edge, staring out at the sea with his back to them. Dwayne watches him for a moment before glancing back at Marko. “I think we should let her drift out into the sea.”

Marko turns to him, surprise etched onto his features. “You don’t wanna bury her?”

Of course he wants to bury you. In fact, part of him wants to consume your blood so that you’ll be with him forever, but he knows deep down that all you wanted was to be free. No matter how much that fact stings, he can’t ignore what he knows is the truth.

“She’d prefer to be in the water.” A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth for a split second, “Do you remember how the five of us used to go down to the beach? I always told her not to get in the water cause she’d freeze, but then you’d grab her by the hand and run in with her.” 

A quiet huff escapes Marko’s lips. It’s not quite a laugh, but it’s enough. A flash of hope that lingers in the air, whispering that maybe, just maybe things will turn out ok. The two of them walk towards David, who doesn’t acknowledge them. Marko clears his throat awkwardly, “Should- should we say something? Like a goodbye?”

Dwayne shakes his head. He knows that all their goodbyes have already been said in the privacy of their minds. Silent prayers only meant for you to hear. To say them out loud would be too performative. “No, we should just let her go,” he replies quietly, taking another step forward so that the edges of his boots are in line with the edge of the cliff. Dwayne looks down at you one last time and places a gentle kiss upon your forehead. He ignores the coldness of your skin, and simply savours the feeling of having you in his hold one last time, before he stretches out his arms and lets you go.

One final act of love. One that has set you free forever.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Tag list- @purple-lemon-8 @xjesterxjacksx @whatispopping69 @simplyreading96 @lostbetweenvampiresandmusic @humbuginmybones @thelostboysforeva @bella-goths-wife

If any of you guys have changed your usernames and want me to update the list just let me know cause I don’t think all of those work 🙏

[detroit-become-hurt]

Sweet Thing

So to kickstart this block again I'm regressing into old hyperfixations. So here's a fanfic I'm working on for The Lost Boys! I hope you enjoy it!

Summary: Moving to Santa Carla was a sudden decision, but something about it just felt right. There was something about that place, calling you to it, you just didn't know what.

Or: you're drawn to Santa Carla cause you're the final mate of The Lost Boy's pack

I sighed heavily as I sat on a bench at the boardwalk. Santa Carla was fun for the first week upon moving here, but after that it sort of just lost its charm. It was the same routine of showing up to work at the little oddities shop between the chinese take out place and some other little resturant that served the greasiest burgers. It wasn’t a bad job, but it wasn’t always the busiest as there were other attractions to see that were much more interesting. The shop consisted of bad taxidermy, crystals, fake skulls (which a lot of people thought were real), and tarot cards/readings. It wasn’t a bad gig, just again, not the busiest. 

Tonight was my night off, and I really had no idea what to do. I decided sitting here was better than sitting at home, with even less to do. Deciding it was best to grab some food I stood up, making my way over towards the shop and the chinese place. Chinese sounded good for dinner. As I neared the resturant, I couldn’t help but notice a group of bikers loitering outside the shop. There was two blondes, rough housing with each other. A tall dark haired main leaned on the wall of the front of the shop, watching the two blondes wrestle. And finally, leaned against one of four bikes was a third blond, a cigarette balanced between his lips. His eyes flitted through the crowd, taking in faces, a dark look lurking behind them.

It wasn’t really of any concern to me seeing these four, Santa Carla was full of different types of people, and I’ve seen them around before at different places on the boardwalk. We never interacted before, but a cloud of trouble oozed off of them. I tried to keep to myself. 

Ordering my food I waited to the side for them to finish preparing it, tapping my foot lightly as I listened to the sounds around me. Rollercoasters whizzed by with screams that lasted mere seconds, loud carnival music and people chattering away. It was almost overwhelming, the sounds. But you grow used to it pretty fast. Finally my order was called, and I picked up the bag containing the food. Upon closer inspection I realized that they had gotten my order wrong…but it wasn’t worth arguing. They ended up giving me more than what I ordered, I wasn’t going to complain.

“Perhaps Sandra would want some of this…” I wondered out loud, thinking of my coworker who was currently working tonight. Deciding I would share my feast, I walked over to the shop, towards the group of four bikers. As I approached, I caught the attention of the blonde leaning against the bike. His eyes trailed up and down me slowly, sizing me up. “Um…excuse me. Could you move your bikes, so I can like…get inside the store.” I asked, trying to maintain eye contact.

“You want us…to move our bikes…so you can go inside?” He repeats back to me, and I instantly knew what he was doing.

“Yes. You, move bikes. I go, inside?” I throw back, raising an eyebrow. The banter between the two of us caught the attention of the other three. The second blonde with curled ringlets going down his back couldn’t help but snicker, flashing me a dangerous smile and a wink when I looked his way. “Really it would just be easier if you moved, so I don’t have to weave in and out of your guys bikes and risk knocking one over. So what’s it gonna be pretty boy?” I asked shifting weight on my feet.

The third blond, who’s hair was teased to high hell and back laughed loudly. “Aw come on sugar, if anyone’s pretty here it’s you.” He says wrapping an arm his friend with the ringlets. “Do we at least get to know your name?” 

“What’s your name? I’ve seen you guys around before.” I say chewing my lip. I really did not expect to get into such a conversation, but it seemed like there was no backing out now. “If I tell you my name, will you please move your bikes?” I throw in, hoping they would indeed do as I asked.

His grin widens, and he sauntered down the steps, wrapping his arm around me. The smell of aqua net hair spray and weed overtook my senes. “I’m Paul. That’s Marko, Dwayne, and David.” He says pointing each of them out. “And I…have definetly not seen you around here. Are you new?” he questions.

Slipping out of his arm I nod, “I’m y/n. And yes, I am new. I just moved here about a week and a half ago.” I say. “Now really, this is quite the lovely chat but I think I’m just gonna weave around the bikes. Sorry to bother you.”

David holds his hand up, stopping my movements. “Hang on there sweet thing, you didn’t give me a chance to answer. Since I am a man of my word, we will move our bikes.” It’s funny he says that, cause he never mentioned giving me his word. But oh well. “Come on boys, let’s get out of here. We’ll see you around y/n.” he gives me a smirk, again something hiding behind his expression as the other three revved their bikes to life. With hoots and hollers they revved the engines a few more times before taking off, nearly hitting me in the process.

“Fuckin assholes,” I mutter as my heart pounds in my chest. Finally walking up the steps I walk inside, “Sandra! It’s me! I brought some food, the chinese place messed up the order.” Walking to the counter I set the food down, taking it out and arranging it so we could easily grab what we wanted. 

Sandra comes out from the back, a yawn errupting from her lips. “Oh thank god, I was going to fall asleep back there. Hey, did you hear like, motocrycle sounds?” She asks as she grabs some food.

Between swallows I nod, “Yeah. Some bikers out front. I asked them to move, and it took a minute but they did. Who knew all I had to do was give them my name.” I say. “I got their names in return. David, Marko, Paul, Dwayne. Interesting group of guys. I’ve seen them around the boardwalk before.” 

Sandra freezes, looking up at me with wide eyes. “Y/n…please tell me you’re joking. Like say sike right now.” She’s bouncing on the balls of her feet, anxiousness radiating into my bubble.

“What’s the big deal? They’re not trouble are they?” 

“Oh yes they’re trouble! They’re dangerous y/n. They’re always in trouble with security on the boardwalk, bothering people.” Sandra’s looking me dead in the eyes now, a look I can’t place. 

Finishing up my food I wipe my mouth, “Okay. I’ll keep my distance. Can’t blame me too much you know, I just moved here.” A part of me was annoyed. I appreciated her concern, but again I just moved here. And the boys seemed nice enough…although that doesn’t make up for the fact that I don’t know them.

“I know. I’m sorry, I just really like you and I don’t want you to end up on a missing person’s poster. It would suck to not have you in my life anymore.” That was one thing I was definetly grateful for, was my quick friendship with Sandra. She took me around, showed me the ropes, and was always there should I have needed anything in my short time in Santa Carla.

“Thank you, Sandra. Really.” Glancing at the clock on the wall I sighed, “I should probably get going, it’s getting late and I have to work a twelve hour tomorrow.” 

Sandra gives me a sympathetic look. “Well if you need anything, give me a holler okay? Seeya later!” Her voice disappears as the bell to the door chimes and I’m once again outside. Traffic has quieted quite a bit, not so loud. Turning I begin to make my way home, unaware of the set of eyes watching me from the dark.

I want her.

Me too.

She needs to be with us, one of us.

Soon, she will be. Give it time.

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

*David and Michael returning to the cave after a hunt, seeing Dwayne, Marko, Paul and Laddie covered in makeup and hair clips*

Dwayne: “Star and Y/N tricked us into this”

Marko: “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I feel beautiful”

Paul: “Babe, can I have more glitter?”

Star: “Baby, you’re literally covered in glitter”

Y/N: “Cut the dummy some slack, gorgeous, he can’t see his reflection”

Marko: “Well I can see Paul and I think he could do with more glitter”

Paul: “Thanks, babe”

[bella-goths-wife]

David: you are in so much trouble young lady

Lost boys daughter: i didn’t even do anything!

Marko: you are soo grounded

Lost boys daughter: *looks them both in eye before taking a few steps outside the cave and into the sunshine*

Lost boys daughter: try and ground me now

Marko:….

David: I curse the day we found you

[i-heart-slashers]

Fur and Fangs

𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: The Lost Boys x FelineShifter!Reader

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: You followed them for the thrill, a silent stray with secrets stitched into your fur—but when your truth is revealed, you become more than their pet; you become their heart.

Now, the cave is yours as much as theirs. You move between worlds—whiskers and skin, purrs and promises—and they let you. Because you didn’t just find them.

You chose them.

And they’ll never let you go.

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 1.2k

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: mild language. implied sexual/intimate tension.

It began on a humid Santa Carla night, the boardwalk alive with neon and screams, the air thick with the scent of salt and sweat. A Ragdoll cat with fur like pale moonlight and smoky dusk, slipped through the chaos unnoticed. Eyes blue like sharp sea glass, tracked the world from alleys and rooftops.

Then there they were.

The Lost Boys. Four vampires cloaked in leather and rebellion, their laughter sharp as shattered glass. They moved like predators, all swagger and hunger, their presence a magnet for trouble.

You'd always been drawn to chaos, and they were its living pulse. So with small paws padding against the floor you followed, silent as a whisper, into the sunken cave they called home.

The cave was a cathedral of decay—stalactites dripping like wax, fairy lights strung through the gloom, and the faint hum of the ocean beyond. You sauntered in just before dawn, weaving between scuffed boots and trailing coats, your tail a proud banner. Marko spotted you first, crouched near a pile of salvaged junk, his curls catching the firelight.

"Yo, check it—a cat?" His voice was half-laugh, half-awe like he'd stumbled on a treasure. He reached out, then froze when you hopped onto a jagged stone seat, claiming it like a throne.

Paul sprawled on a couch, flicked his hair back, and squinted. "No way a stray looks that good. Bet she's someone's pampered princess."

You ignored him, locking eyes with David.

He sat at the cave's heart, cigarette smoldering between gloved fingers, his platinum hair glowing under the dim light. Those icy eyes studied you, unreadable but intrigued. You didn't flinch, didn't blink—just leaped into his lap with liquid grace, curling into the folds of his coat. His hand hovered, then settled between your ears, stroking with a confidence that bordered on possession.

"She's got taste," he said, voice low, a smirk ghosting his lips.

That was the beginning.

You became their shadow, their constant. The cave wasn't complete without your soft paws padding across stone or your purring weight in someone's lap. They didn't question where you came from—strays were common in Santa Carla, even ones as flawless as you. To them, you were a mystery they didn't need to unravel. You were simply theirs.

Marko, the wildest of them, took to you like a kid with a new toy. He'd slip you scraps of rare steak, grinning as you nibbled with dainty precision. "No eating animals, got it?" he declared one night, pointing at the others like a general. "Noodle is crew now. No one touches her." The rule stuck, a rare thread of mercy in their blood-soaked world.

Dwayne persistantly quiet, became your sanctuary. At dawn, when the others grew restless, he'd sit with you on a ledge overlooking the sea, his leather jacket warm under your fur. He'd read from tattered novels—Poe, Shelley, Stoker—his voice a low rumble as you dozed on his chest. He called you Luna, a name whispered like a secret.

Paul, ever the showman, dubbed you Sugarfluff with a theatrical wink, snapping his fingers as you passed. "Look at you, stealing hearts like a pro," he'd tease, tossing you a lazy salute. You'd flick your tail, unimpressed, but his laughter was infectious.

David never named you. He didn't need to. His lap was your domain, his gloved hand your summons. You'd leap up without hesitation, claiming the space as if it had always been yours. He'd stroke your fur in silence, his touch both command and invitation. In those moments, you were his anchor, the one thing in his endless nights that didn't demand blood.

You weren't just a cat. You were their center, their unspoken vow. They didn't know you were listening, watching, choosing them as much as they chose you.

But secrets don't stay buried in a cave full of vampires.

It was a rare early return from the boardwalk, the boys bursting in with the scent of blood and salt on their coats. You thought you'd have hours alone, time to stretch into your true self. So you'd shifted, letting your feline form melt away. Human again, you lounged in David's chair, legs draped over the arm, the firelight casting shadows across your bare skin. One of their long coats—Marko's, by the smell of paint and leather—hung loosely over your shoulders, a makeshift robe.

The cave door swung open, and they stopped dead.

Four pairs of eyes—gold-flecked, predatory—locked onto you. The air thickened, heavy with shock and something darker.

Paul broke the silence with a nervous laugh. "Holy shit, Sugarfluff? You're—you're a babe?"

Marko's mouth hung open, his hand still clutching a half-eaten burger. "I fed you steak."

Dwayne's gaze was steady, assessing, but not hostile. "A shifter," he said, voice soft but certain, like he'd pieced it together in seconds. He'd heard about them in the native stories back when he was young.

David didn't move. His cigarette burned, forgotten in his hand, ash drifting to the floor. His eyes, cold and piercing, held yours—not with anger, but with something deeper, sharper. Ownership.

You rose slowly and deliberately, the coat slipping slightly to reveal the curve of your collarbone. "I've been around longer than you think," you said, voice smooth as velvet, carrying the same confidence you wore in fur. "I chose this place. Chose you."

The silence stretched, taut as a wire.

Then David stepped forward, closing the distance in three measured strides. His gloved hand brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch lingering at your jaw. "You've been ours this whole time," he said, not a question but a claim, his voice low and final.

You tilted your head, meeting his gaze without flinching. "And you've been mine."

Marko let out a whoop, breaking the tension, his arm slung around your shoulders like you were already family. "Hell yeah, she stays! Shifter or not, she's one of us."

Paul grinned, leaning against the wall with a mock swoon. "A hot chick that's a cat? I'm in love. Sugarfluff's still my girl."

Dwayne's lips curved, a rare smile softening his edges. "You kept our secrets. You're family."

David's hand settled on your waist, his grip firm but not forceful. His eyes searched yours, and in them, you saw the weight of his decision—not just to let you stay but to bind you closer. "You're not going anywhere," he murmured, and the words were a promise, a chain, a vow.

Now, the cave feels alive in a new way. You shift freely, one moment a Ragdoll curling atop David's throne, the next a woman laughing in Paul's arms or trading quiet words with Dwayne by the fire. They still hunt and still revel in their immortal chaos, but they come back to you. Always to you.

You are their secret, their heart, their queen in fur and flesh. And in the shadowed depths of the cave, where the ocean whispers and the fire burns low, you know one truth above all:

No one will ever take you from them.

[doeyeddaydream]

☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕷𝖔𝖘𝖙 𝕭𝖔𝖞𝖘

⋆˙⟡♡ PAIRING ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ Poly!Lost boys x fem reader ۶𖹭ৎ

⋆ ˚｡⋆ SYNOPSIS ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ You have another sweet yet tense encounter with the boys, and a mysterious one with the man who runs the video store. The man who seems to hold a lot of power over them. Alongside this, the relationship seems to escalate. A new page to a book that you've opened.

⋆˙⟡♡ AUTHORS NOTE ˚୨୧⋆ Not me sprinkling some of my favourite old horror movies within this, but when given the chance to in a setting like Max's video store, I'll take it.

✧ ⁺  𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 ⋆｡˚ ⋆ Max jumpscare, reader is implied to have longish hair?, the nickname babe used (I can't stand that nickname but it's very within theme for them, therefore we endure), protective and possessive behaviour, kissing.

☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆

You had found yourself wandering in and out of stores this particular evening, the bustling crowds driving forward in a rush of chatter and thrill had you sweating in the summer heat, and the wisp of cool air blowing out the AC in the storefronts offered a much welcomed respite.

To your delight, you find a video store that's filled to the brim with dazzling TVs covering the walls and playing an array of movies that you faintly recognise.

It was exciting and buzzing in a way you could feel comfortable in, and the thought of picking up something to watch home later lured you in closer. Much better than another typical tourist store filled with overpriced buckets and spades and sunhats.

The moment you enter, the heavy lingering scent of cigarette smoke and AC air hits you. It hands thickly within the shop, a wispy haziness fogging your view.

Like graveyard fog or sea mist, it seeped into every crevice of this town, beneath floorboards and doorframes to engulf everything that the sea air touched. Like a grasping shadowy hand enveloping the town in an iron first. You felt like you couldn't hide from it, but you didn't want to struggle either. Mystery lingered in this murder capital, and you willingly let yourself be taken by it. At some point deciding that there was safety to behold here.

Whilst deep in thought, you look over the video tapes in the display case when a leather gloved hand settles on your shoulder, swiping locks of hair away from your neck. Deft fingertips idly brushing your hair, tenderly light yet firmly intentional.

A low whisper of your name pulls you from your thoughts, and you instinctively turn around.

You startle, gasping a little surprised noise, before realising it's none other than David. A strange warm feeling cloaks over you, enveloping you at the sight of him and his eyes peering straight into yours. Two chips of ice staring at you behind light eyelashes and dark under eyes. Unblinking and intense.

"What's going on?". He murmurs, muttering your name again with a lilting fondness. A soft smirk warming his expression at the sight of you.

"Oh". You reply, almost in a stupor. "Hey David". Breathing out his name, he looks you over before softening his smile. His hand is cupping your shoulder to pull you into his side, patting it reassuringly. Keeping you tucked against him. A possessive claim made loud and clear.

"There she is!". A head of wild blonde hair appears, the scent of smoke and weed and sea salt surrounding you. Paul's glittering blue eyes look at you like an excitable golden retriever, and he bounds over like one too. Toying with the stalk of a green lollipop that he presumably pinched from the countertop, but knowing him, he most likely definitely did.

His hand reaches for your waist to pull you into a hug, and you let him. The expanse of his palm cups your lower back before it drags around the curve of your waist, past a pocket. It's a brief hug, but it's warm nonetheless.

The others pile in like a group of piranhas, flanking each other's backs and sides. Dwayne leans back on the counter, quietly looking you over with his dark pinning stare whilst Marko rummages around in the lollipop jar and sends you an acknowledging wink and a finger waggle wave.

"Let's ditch babe, wanna ride?". Paul whispers, craning his neck down to murmur against your ear above the noise of the store.

Someone's else speaks up first before you have a chance to, and you almost jump.

"Boys". A stern voice calls from the register, and your head turns to the owner of it.

David turns his head slower, prolonging his gaze on you before making eye contact with the tall man adorned with glasses and a tie behind the counter. An odd tension settles between them, and his hand settles on your lower back.

"I told you not to come in here anymore".

You can hear Marko and Paul have quietened down now, no longer playfully pushing and prodding each other. They bow their heads quietly, yet in a defying manner like sulking children to a stern parent. Dragging their feet as they walk, making the time in your presence linger.

David makes eye contact with the man, as if saying something with his stare, before turning in acknowledgement. His knuckle brushes against your chin, gaze flickering to your lips before leading away. His boys are hot on his heels, as if connected to him with a string.

"See you later". Paul bids you farewell first, leaning down to whisper fondly against your cheek before departing with a boyish smile and a playful finger waggle.

Marko follows closely, his shoulder glued to his terror twin, but not before looking at you up and down with a flirty glance. Brushing by, he lightly grasps your hand in his in passing, releasing your hand whilst dragging his fingertips down your palm before lightly hooking his fingertips with yous. Almost as if trying to drag you along outside with him.

"see you out later, 'kay?".

You give him a playful apologetic smile and squeeze his fingers a little before he lets you go. He looks at you with awe and forlornness before following David out. Dwayne hot on his heels, whose dark eyes are still pinned to you. Looking over you protectively before shooting the man behind the counter a stern glare. Almost in a silent warning.

They leave through the doors, and the tension settles. They must've really pissed off the store owner in the past or something.

"Apologies young lady. I hope they haven't bothered you too badly. Don't want those wild kids scaring off any new customers". The man chuckles politely. His smile doesn't reach his eyes.

"It's alright, they're my... friends. Well, Sort of. Thank you though". You assure him, offering a polite smile. You're still not sure what to name whatever is going on between you and the group of punks that seem to tail you, whatever sense of caution you had initially felt around them had somehow melted into something sweeter. Familiar. You weren't squirming prey, but you weren't just a casual friend either. Not with how they look at you.

His eyes flicker to the VHS you place on the countertop and his smile flickers fondly at the title.

"Horror Express. Excellent choice".

You pay for the video, handing him the cash, and he puts it into a paper bag for you.

He hands you a lollipop from the jar along with your purchase, and you take it shyly.

"Well I do hope you come by again, we've got plenty more movies like that around here".

"Will do. And thankyou...?"

"Max. Just Max will do". He chirps, flattening his palms on the countertop. Leering over you with his height.

"Thankyou Max. Have a good night".

"You too miss".

Stepping back into the chaos outside, you're hit with a sudden gust of cold nippy sea air. You're not at all surprised to see them all waiting near the storefront, their jackets warmed by neon light.

Popping the lollipop into your mouth, you send them a smile and a wave. Their faces differ with confused expressions as you turn the other way to walk, trying not to laugh as you hear their rapid footsteps approach behind you.

"no way you're already heading home". Paul groans playfully, leaning down to speak over the crash of waves and the noise of the concert playing nearby. "The night's still young. Come with us, yeah? We'll look after you".

You raise your brow at him, quirking a lighthearted demeanor.

"that doesn't sound ominous".

"nothing ominous here babe. All good intentions, I swear".

"As much as I'd love to, I can't. I have an early shift in the morning. Plus I really am tired". You sigh, tucking the packaged VHS into your bag and swinging it over your shoulder.

Dwayne approaches, and he's so close you can smell the leather from his jacket and the sea salt in his hair. His fingertips ghost past your lower back, and he peers down at you with those dark unblinking eyes of his.

"We'll get you home. Don't go alone". He murmurs lowly in a soft smoky voice, and the others grumble and sigh in disappointment. But they don't argue, and swiftly jump onto their bikes.

"She's riding with me". David announces, regardless if it needed to be stated or not. You always end up on his bike one way or another, and the other boys don't put up much of a fight.

Dwayne's hand warms the small of your back before it slips away, yet the heat remains. His nose nudges lightly against the back of your hair, encouraging you gently to join David.

He keeps his eyes on you as you approach him, hearing the others drag their bikes over the grit sand and gravel.

You feel nervous about riding on a bike, but with David luring you over with his gentle steadfast gaze and relaxed demeanor, you find yourself walking to him without quite realising it. You often find yourself drawn to him like that, as if you keep getting caught in his orbit. Lulling you closer with his fond expression and alluring confidence. You feel it. The promise of safety in his eyes, and you accept his hand, letting him help you climb onto the space behind him.

The bulk of cool metal against your hot skin and the low purr of it breathing to life beneath you makes it feel like a daunting death machine between your legs, but with David in the driver's seat, you feel at ease.

You feel warmer nestled against David's back, your cheek pressed against the leather of his jacket that smells distinctively of him. It helps distract you from the spike of anxiety that hits you the moment the engine roars loudly to life, and you hold tighter onto him when the weight of the bike glides bumpily down the sidewalk curb onto the road.

David feels you hug him tighter, and smirks softly in amusement.

Crowds part as they glide through the weaving pedestrians, and you look out onto the dark horizon of the ocean, seemingly blending into the night sky. The pale seafoam crashes against the shoreline in the distance whilst seasalt wind brushes through your hair.

The ride is slow and pleasant, and something about the mood tonight feels like they're drawing this out appreciatively. Bathed in moonlight and surrounded by your peculiar guardian angels devils.

They make the night feel like a realm of familiarity and safety, something you'd never thought possible when moving to Santa Carla alone. Nowadays you would go anywhere on the boardwalk without an ounce of fear, knowing that they were close by. You could feel their eyes on you if for some reason they couldn't join your side.

Your dark apartment stands amidst the others on the street, and it comes closer to view as you all drive to it.

You all pull to a stop in front of it, and the growl of bikes silence. Headlights bathing your front door.

Squeezing David's shoulder slightly, he offers you a hand to steady yourself with as you clamber off. He doesn't let you go right away, his gloved hand holding your waist, only letting you go when you give him a hug. His fingers flex against the dip in your lower back, a soft growly exhale brushing against your neck before he lets you go.

"Tomorrow night?". Marko asks hopefully. Jumping off his bike to scoop you into a hug too.

"Maybe".

He groans against your shoulder, and you laugh. He lingers longer with you in his arms, only pulling away when Paul nudges at his shoulder.

You card your fingers apologetically through his hair before getting pulled into Paul's arms, who picks you up off the ground till your legs dangle.

He huffs and snuffs noises playfully against your cheek to make you giggle, and you kiss clumsily at his jaw to make him stop. He does, cracking a dopey grin before lowering you back down on your feet. You flush, the kiss was impulsive, but he doesn't seem to mind one bit.

A tension settles in the air and their eyes pin on you. Like you've just tiptoed over the invisible barrier that had been lingering the whole time, quietly existing yet loudly being acknowledged by everyone. A simmering possessiveness glimmers in their eyes.

Dwayne dismantles his bike and approaches you first. The others watching on. David is lighting a cigarette, his dark eyes on you.

"Get some rest. We'll see you tomorrow". Dwayne mutters softly to you, leaning down to hug you before pausing. His gaze asking you for permission, and when you shyly nod and follow suit, almost a little clumsily, you let him kiss you. You grab a handful of dark hair, and he hums a low groan against your mouth.

It's brief and soft, and yet you feel like jelly afterwards. Especially how he looks you over afterwards. His dark pinning eyes glazed over with heated intensity. Like he wants more.

Paul and Marko saddle on their bikes, mouths agape, before scrambling off. David watches in amusement.

Marko's hand finds itself in your pocket as he presses a breathless kiss against your parted mouth. It's warm and sappy sweet like taffy, and he peppers a few more against the corners of your lips after pulling away. His eyes twinkling with giddiness and awe, and he pats Paul on the back as he returns to his bike. Now dopey eyed and mellow.

Paul is just as enthusiastic, ducking down for you to peck him on the lips. Nuzzling against your cupped hand that steadies against his jaw, light stubble tickling your palm.

They clamber back onto their bikes, smiles etched onto their faces. The three of them make a head start whilst David stands and leans by his bike, watching you. Curiously. As if waiting for his turn, and if you'd share the affection with him. The knowing relaxed smirk on his face gives it away however, the possessiveness he feels for you is already well established.

"I can't leave you out now". You chuckle awkwardly and shyly, your face warm against the cool night breeze.

"Well, aren't you sweet". He jests back gently, yet the intensity in his eyes is still there.

His gloved fingers brush against your cheek before taking a hold of your chin, and he kisses you after letting you anxiously huff air against his face from being so close. His hand moves to curl around the nape of your neck, and he deepens the kiss a little before pulling away. A soft smirk on his face as he looks at you admiringly. He tastes like smoke. Dangerous yet intoxicating.

"Goodnight".

"g'night David".

Once the roar of motorcycles deafens into the darkness of the night, you're left alone with your thoughts, and warmth lingering on your lips. Like they never left.

You step into your warm apartment and flick the kitchen lights on, the empty space looming in on you quietly as you press your back to the door, mulling over what just happened. That you've just made that step into their world now, no longer a bystander or a passenger.

This will definitely change things.

Wait, did Marko and Paul slip the candy they pinched from the video store into your pockets? Why are their lollipops-

[the-avengers-not-the-nazis]

Bad moon rising III

Summary: After a nasty divorce, you and your family are forced to live with your Grandpa in the lovely notorious Santa Carla, California. Filled with punks, geeks, surfer nazis and apparently all kinds of creatures of the night.

Word count: 3.7k

Poly!Lost boys x Emerson!reader

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

A/n: This chapter will have a brief mention of SA, so this is your warning! But, don’t worry because we kick ass, literally. I also love this chapter, because it does go a bit more into the boys protectiveness and yours and theirs feelings for one another. So please in joy:)

You awoke groggily the next morning. 

Staying up late the night before at the boardwalk did not mix in well with your normal sleeping routine. Sun filtered through the blinds, the light casting a glow throughout your bedroom. You lightly stirred awake, tugging on the itchy sheets to keep last of your sleep from wandering away. 

“Y/n?” A voice called out from behind the closed door. “Sam and I’ve made breakfast, if your hungry.”

A muffled ‘ok’ surpassed your lips, the sound of your mother’s footsteps fading from your door. You reluctantly got out of bed, your pajama shirt that you may or may not have taken from Micheal’s closet rested loosely around your hips, the waist of your shirts twisted around your body from last nights sleep. 

Glancing around your room, you took in the multitude of box’s that littered the ground. Each having different labels from t-shirt and underwear all the way to cd’s and band posters. You knew that you’d have to empty the boxes at one point, and not fish through everything just to find a clean pair of socks.

You slowly walked out of your room, careful not to roll an ankle stepping over a box of shoes. The floor was cold against your bare feet, causing a soft chill to run through your body as you made your way down the stairs. 

Soft clinking of silverware and scraping plates met your ears as you rounded the stairs railing. Sam, Micheal and mom came into view, each of them sitting around the dining table, their breakfast either already eaten or halfway gone. 

Your gave them each a morning greeting, mom receiving a politer one than either of your brothers. Upon entering the kitchen, you made a quick plate, filled with plenty of eggs and bacon to keep your hunger subsided for a couple of hours. 

You returned back to the dining room, sitting next to Micheal. Mom and Sam sat on the opposite side, a single plate pulled with just bacon and a glass of orange juice sat at the head of the table. Definitely Grandpas. 

Though, where the old man currently was, is beyond you. 

As you start to eat your breakfast with your family, the gentle noise from outside passing as conversation for now. Mom let out an appealed hum, mouth stuffed with her own cooking, hand coming up to cover her mouth as she began to speak. 

“I forgot to tell you guys,” Voice slightly muffled by her hand. “I already found a job for myself.”

You slowed your eating, glancing between your brothers and mother. “Already?” You asked, lightly stabbing the yellow bit of egg. “We’ve been here less than a day, how have you got a job?”

Mom lowered her hand, smile still evident on her face. “Yes, well, last night at the boardwalk, I met a fine man who offered me a job at his store.”

“Fine man?” Micheal echoed, leaning back in his chair. “We don’t have to expect him around the house, will we?”

“No, no.” She waved off. “He is just a sweet man, who happened to notice someone in need of work.”

You shared a quick glance at Micheal, not entirely certain if the guy was just looking out for a stranger or more. Sam, on the other hand, was estatic for mom. Talking with a mouthful of his breakfast. “That’s great, mom. And, just think, when you get your first check, we can buy a TV.”

Micheal rolled his eyes at his brothers sudden accusation, you held back a smile. Remembering the conversation from yesterday about having no MTV to watch here at grandpas. 

“We can’t spend our money on entertainment, Sam. We have help pay for food and bills, we can’t just live off of grandpa forever.” She told him, taking a quick sip of her orange juice. “Besides, a video store will not pay that much on the first check.”

“Your working at a video store?” You asked, even though she had just told you the answer to your question. 

She gave a soft nod, standing up from the table with her plate and drink in hand. “Yes, unfortunately. It was the only thing that I could find in such short notice.” She then walked out of the dining room, leaving you with your brothers. 

Sam looked between you and Micheal, a sad look on his face. “My god,” he muttered, leaning back in his chair with defeat. “We’re going to be living in the streets by the end of the summer.”

You kicked him beneath the table, earning a pained noise to pass his lips. 

After breakfast, you returned back upstairs, gently closing your bedroom door behind you. Kicking an empty box out of your way as you sat down on your bed. Out of the corner of your eye, the sun bounced off of a square object, the light shining in your face. 

Turning in the direction, you eyed the cd from last night. The same one that the bleach blonde slipped into your back pocket. Reaching over, you picked up the object, twisting it around in your hand as you read the song listings for the cd. 

You pondered with the disk in hand, gently tapping it against your palm as you eyed your cd player. A pair of headphones hung on top of the device, eagerly waiting to be played. 

A tired sigh passing your lips as you opened the plastic case. You weren’t one to judge people’s music, often giving each genre a try before making a conclusion on it. But, stolen music was something that’d you’d happily judge. 

Placing the disk into the appropriate slot, you pressed play on the cd player. The music played through the headphones, the padded material fitting snug against your ears. You laid out on your bed, letting the music calm you, despite the punk metal flowing through your head.

You hadn’t seen the four boys over the past week at the boardwalk. Well, you did see them, anyone could see them. But, they were always driving away on their bikes or terrifying some tourists that got to close to them. 

You also didn’t know what to say to them, it wasn’t like you were friends with any of them. So, you just stuck to the side when they would get too close or change directions entirely, not wanting to be noticed by the leatherback motorcyclists.

But, you were noticed.

They knew when you were near, and they knew when you would hide away in a random shop when they’d passed by. To them it was hilarious, this girl that they’d barley known was doing everything in her power to keep herself hidden from them.

It wasn’t like it was something new to them, plenty of people dodged their presence when around them. Often, giving them a clear path to walk along the boardwalk. 

Though, whenever they would catch the sweet odor of your perfume, or the soft beating of your heart. Their feet would follow after you, trailing a good distance behind to not alarm you of their presence. 

And it was like they couldn’t stop when they would catch your smell in a crowd. 

It was something deep down that made them follow after you, something deep within their cold body’s that tethered them with you. They all felt it, that odd pull when one of them would spot you. But, none of them would speak out loud about it, not knowing how to ask what it was or why it was you. 

They just knew that the pull they’d fell would softly strengthen itself they closer they were to you. And a small part of them was curious of what it could mean. 

You watched as the sun lowered itself behind the crashing waves of the ocean, soft pinks and purples mixing in with the night sky before it turns black. It was always mesmerizing how the sun would move so quickly, yet slowly throughout the day. Beginning and ending just as it had started, beautifuly.

The railing from the boardwalk dug into your forearms as you leaned against it, a peaceful feeling scorching through your body at the sight before you. You knew you’d have to leave soon, you promised mom that you’d be back before dinner. 

Pulling yourself from the deck, you made your way over to the stairs leading down to the beach. Straps of your bag digging into your shoulders, as the weight of your items shifted. The only reason that you had brought the thing was because you’d wished to open your wallet a bit more tonight. 

A couple of happy’s for your family and yourself. As well as your house keys, wallet and Walkman. (For when you get bored.)

The sand inched itself into the crevices of your soles, no doubt something that mom would get on to you about if you track any kind of grime into the house. 

You could have just walked along the boardwalk, but you were growing a bit tired of the over packed people crowding around you. Too many sweaty bodies, and far too many noises. So, a nice walk along the beach would be the perfect way to end the night. 

A small fire came into view, the light casting a soft glow around a group of kids that surrounded it. You didn’t recognize them. Not that you’d recognize a whole lot of people with only being in town for a total of two weeks, but still. Loud music came from the group, shouts and laughter erupting the quiet atmosphere of the beach. 

You kept your focus away from the group, not wanting to disturb their own fun. Keeping a far away distance to not draw any attention towards yourself. Though that seems to be the opposite of tonight’s plans. 

A sharp whistle came from the group, dragging you out of your peace. 

You glanced over at the bonfire, stopping momentarily in the sand. They were a lot closer to you than the fire itself, maybe a few feet away than the couple of yards they were previously at. 

“Where you running off to on such a nice night, babe?” One of them asked, his voice slur like. The nickname didn’t roll off his tongue like Paul’s did the other night, no, instead it came off forced and disoriented. Almost like the name was just a way to try and sweet talk you. 

“Home.” You told him bluntly, taking slow but deliberant steps away from them. 

An airy chuckle came from a different guy, “What a coincidence, so are we.”

“Please don’t follow me.” You said over your shoulder, picking up your pace when you realized that they were starting to follow you. 

“Why not, you look like you could use the company.”

You didn’t give a response, instead kept your head forward, ignoring the calls that they continued to ring out. “C’mon, beautiful, this a way to treat a gentleman?”

An hand gripped your arm, yanking you back into the imbrace of a body. Two strong arms wrapped around your waist keeping you tightly in his hold. “I was fuckin’ talking to ya.” He told you, the smell of his intoxicated breath making you gag. 

He pulled you closer to the fire, dragging your body as you kicked and refused to allow him to take you to their spot. The other guys had brutish smiles on their faces, finding the situation as a pleasant form of entertainment for them.

One of the men snatched your bag off your shoulders, tossing it near the bonfire as a couple dug through your possessions. “Let me fucking go!” You shouted, arms and legs kicking out at anyone who got close. Your sudden movements caused the guys grip on you to slip, your feet finally planting firmly on the ground.

You twisted out of the guys hold, his arms still wrapped tightly around your waist. And, out of a flurry of emotions, you raised your dominant arm, reeling it back before your fist connected with his nose. Hard. 

A sharp crunch came from the man’s nose, and something warm and wet coated your knuckles as you pulled your fist back. The man let out a pained groan, his hands cupping his nose as blood dripped from between his fingers. 

“God! Fuckin’! Dammit!” He shouted, words coming out choppy and rushed as he struggled to breath properly through his nostrils. “Look what you fucking did, you bitch!”

You bit your toungue, fighting off a smug smile. Now is really not the time to play around with these guys, but, you knew it felt good to punch him. The tiny bag of dicks deserved it. “I can see.” You told him taking a small step back from the supposed leader of the group. “And it looks like a shitty nose job, if you ask me.”

“You broke my fucking nose!” He was beyond pissed, anyone with an eye could see that. He pointed a finger at you, blood dripping from the tip. “I’ll fucking kill you.”

God, this guy has a nasty mouth on him. He gets punched one time and it’s all fucking this and fucking that. His mama needs to teach himself some manners. 

You opened you mouth to tell him, ready to snatch your bag back and take off towards grandpas, when a reflective object caught your eye. Glancing over at the man’s hand you saw a knife clutched tightly in his right hand, his fist slightly shaking for how hard his grip was. 

Holy shit. 

He really is gonna kill you. 

Turning swiftly on your foot, you tried to manuver out of the outstretched hands grabbing at you. Sprinting on the sand, you felt as the tiny rocks slowed you down. Everytime you pushed off, your foot slowly sank down into the beach’s bay. 

Holy shit. 

A hand gripped your hair, tight. Your scalp burning as you get yanked back and thrown down on the ground. A yelp slipped past your lips when your upper body hits the floor, the air vacating your lungs. 

You tried to lift your body up, tried to run, tried to scream for help. But, there were suddenly hands everywhere, holding you down on your back, arms and legs pinned down as the man you’d punched leaned over you. 

“You know,” he started, twisting his knife in his palm. “It’d be a real shame for me to fuck up your face, because, well, you sure do got a pretty one.” He trailed his hand over your face, blood trailing behind as he did so. 

“Burn in fucking hell!” You shouted, putting as much strength as you could muster to try  and shove off the ones holding you down. 

A nasty sneer rested on his lips, “But such a shitty attitude, maybe I’ll cut off your tongue, you know, keep you quiet for once.”

The guy pinning down your left arm looked up at the man, slight concern bubbling across his features. “Hughie, yer not actually gonna cut ‘er, right-“

“Shut the hell up!” Hughie shouted at the man, knife pointed dangerously close to his face. “Just shut up.”

He turned back towards you, the knife dropping down to his side as glared down at you. “I ain’t gonna cut the bitch.”

You felt air enter your body, feeling slightly better about the situation now knowing he isn’t actually gonna use the knife. But, you still didn’t know what he was gonna do with you. 

“No, well just take her shitty bag, and I want just a little pay back for the nose.” Hughie brought his index and thumb close together. 

You watched with wide eyes as he walked around you, stopping at the top of your head, kicking just a little bit of sand in your face as he did so. “Fucking slut.” He muttered, before he raised his leg and the heel of his boot came down hard on your face. 

David sat on top of his motorcycle, the kickstand holding him steady as he puffed on his cigarette. The sun had set about an hour ago, the night fresh and just starting. They had plenty of time to scope out the crowd and find their next meal. 

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Paul and Marko sweet talking a group of ladies. They’d be nice for a snack, David thought. The sent of their blood flooding his senses, but, they’d need just a little more to actually fill them up. 

Dwayne leaned against the wooden railing, keeping a steady eye on those who wander too close to him and his brothers. Anyone that catches his eye would immediately steer themselves in a different direction. 

The smell of your blood drifted around the group, drawing Paul and Marko away from the group of girls and back over to their brothers. Your blood was a lot stronger than usual tonight, they noticed. It was more out in the open than what they’d usually smell around you. 

Paul was the first to notice you, a smile spreading across his face. “Hey, babe.” He drawled, watching as you came into view of the group. “Where you been lately?”

Though you didn’t stop to acknowledge them, in fact you seemed to walk faster to try and past them. It was slightly uncharacteristic of you, no snarky comment or a roll of your eyes. To say they missed it was an understatement. 

One by one, they each stepped away from their bikes, sauntering over to your fleeting form. The smell of your blood grew stronger and stronger the closer they got to you, the reminder that they need to eat picking at the back of their minds. 

Marko reached you first, gently pulling at your arm to catch your attention. “Hey, beautiful, where you been all week?” Though, you shrugged off his hand, barley giving him a glance as you tried to push through the crowd. 

He furrowed his brows, slightly confused at your demeanor. The first time you’ve met you’d snapped at him for trying to take a silly vinyl, and now you wouldn’t even spare him a second of your attention. 

Even when they’d see you out on the boardwalk, you’d always glance up at them, meeting at least one of their eyes before scurrying in a different direction. 

He quickly glanced at the others, silently asking them what to do. 

David brushed by his brother, understanding him without either having to open their mouths. He took long purposeful strides, the sounds of the others following right behind floated up to his ears. In no time, David was at your side. Gloved fingers wrapping around your forearm, as he spun you around to face them. 

A witty comment danced on the edge of his tongue, the sudden impulse to hear a snarky remark fall from your lips egged him on. Though, what he sa made his thoughts stand still. 

Bruises were found all around your face. A few rested along your jawline and cheekbones, but, the biggest of them all was the one on your right eye. The skin slightly puffed around the eyeball, making it hard to see clearly from that side. 

A dark red was slowly but steadily seeping from your bottom lip, the sticky liquid had had found its way to the collar of your shirt. The fabric had caused the blood to spread across the top. 

That explains the smell of blood. 

Tears welled up in your eyes, threatening to spill over onto your cheeks. Your breaths became labored, short intakes and outtakes, eyes darting past the four men to your surroundings. 

David placed both hands on your face, the feeling of his gloved fingers against your skin oddly calmed you. You placed your own hands against his wrist gently trying to tug them away, though, his grip didn’t seem to loosen. 

“Let me go.” You said in a hoarse voice, the sound of it made an odd feeling stir in the pit of the boys stomachs. 

You hadn’t even realized that the rest of the boys had surrounded the two of you. Each eyeing the small marks that littered across your face with hidden emotion. 

Paul had reached forward grasping your hand in his, eyes trailing across the hills of your knuckles. A faint coat of blood was slowly drying itself up, blood that wasn’t your own. The blonde gently showed your hand to the others, discreetly eyeing each of them, a silent conversation threading itself through the air. 

A weak sniffle sounded from you, mindlessly dragging their thoughts back to the fact that you were here right infront of them. “Can I please just go home?” You asked, voice wavering with emotion. 

One by one they each gave a chorus of, ‘of course’ or just a simple nod. Paul released your hand, not before wiping a small trail of blood onto the pad of his finger. Keeping the scent with them as you left. 

David pulled his hands away from your face, the cold touch lingering on your warm skin. They watched as you pushed through the crowd, hand gently pressing against someone’s lower back as you pass by them. An eerie tick crawled its way to the back of David’s mind, something unsettling and terrifying. 

And it didn’t seem to mix well with the need to feed. 

David glanced over at Dwayne, giving him a quick nod. The brunette mirrored his brother, neither having to open they’re mouth before he distantly trailed after you. Getting lost in the crowd just as you had. 

Now just the three blondes were left in the boardwalk. Paul was softly bouncing on his feet unpatiently awaiting for David’s orders. Marko stood beside his brothers, fingers twitching at the sudden need to sink his fists and fangs into someone. 

The faint smell of the assholes blood filtered through their noses, a soft trail leading through the crowds. Without glancing back at the terror twins, David signaled towards the bikes. The three of them straddles their own Motorcycles, Dwayne’s would just have to stay at the boardwalk until they get back. 

They revved their engines, the loud noise drawing attention of nearby locals. Though, tonight, the people’s attention was the last thing that they were trying to capture. 

“Boys,” David spoke over the rumble of the bikes. “Let’s eat.”

A/a/n: Ok, so, if anyone of confused by the ending, the boys went out to basically kill the surfer nazis. And, Dwayne went to make sure you got home safe before joining his brothers. Also, I felt like the ending was a bit rushed, because I haven’t posted in like a week or something. But, let me tell you that this chapter has been 90% done the whole time. I was just lazy to finish the other 10%. But, let me know what you guys think ;)

@mrstargayen09

[witchymommy27]

I love being attracted to fictional characters that I would call the police on irl