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Birdie
Tlb! Marko x oc
·:*☆ this is a commission for a friend! Hope you enjoy
✧ ⁺ 𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 ⋆。˚ ⋆ implied stalking, Marko probably needs a warning just for being Marko, bugs in food. I'll add anything if I find smth that needs a warning.





:*☆…━━ ˚*・ॱ ˙ 𝄞 ˚*・ॱ ˙ 𝄞 ˚*・ॱ ˙ 𝄞 ˚*・ॱ ˙ ━━·:*☆
The sappy sweet scent of sea salt taffy, ocean mist, and cigarette smoke lingers thickly on the boardwalk that is buzzing with nocturnal nightlife. Sunburnt tourists, brightly Mohawked punks, and aloof sleep deprived cops wander and bustle aimlessly. The boardwalk is bathed in glowing neon light and pale moonlight, which shimmers on the horizon of dark ocean waves that crash on the shoreline.
Santa Carla was everything, and nothing that you had expected it to be.
The night was filled with the noise of music and roaring rollercoasters, the murmur and chatter of people’s voices fading into the noise of crashing waves.
You hadn’t been here long. Long enough to unpack a few of your boxes and hang up some posters and trinkets, your bed scarcely sporting more than two pillows and the thick plush duvet that smelt of home. Your old home now. The apartment still smelt unfamiliar, and you were still getting used to the hot-cold blast of the shower whenever you turned it on, or how the kitchen tap spat.
Relocating your life was going by achingly slow, but also dizzyingly fast. The rush of Santa Carla was wild- too much at times, but it was your home now. You could grow to find familiarity again, to endure the growing pains of a new setting. To look out of your window and be greeted by the horizon of sky and ocean and the cawing of gulls, it was a whole new world to you. An exciting one, but also a scary one.
And it was moments like this you felt like you could get swallowed up by this place.
Weaving through a crowd of stabbing elbows and budging shoulders was a task. The boardwalk was busy again, unsurprisingly. It was peak summer tourist time, and you were getting hit like a tidal wave.
Thanks to your height, you were able to duck and weave about fine, but being pushed around like a little guppy in the middle of a rushing swarm of big fish wasn’t comfortable either. The flimsy plastic headphones that were clamped over your ears helped lesson the nearly deafening noise of accumulated boardwalk sounds, but it made you feel a little disoriented.
Spotting the video tape store, you make a beeline. It appearing as a life raft amidst a ruthless ocean. The hum of neon glow washed over you as you stepped foot inside, and it felt like you could breathe again.
Buzzing television boxes align the walls, flashing with movie clips. You didn’t know where to look , so you gravitate towards the shelving filled with VHS’s and start picking through them. You drift towards the horror section, skimming over the cheap campy ones to find something that would catch your eye.
And then you feel it. Again.
Someone is looking at you. Not a brief glance, nor an absentminded wander of the eye at your clothing. It was a heavy lingering stare, and it prickles the back of your neck like ice. You’re too skittish to turn and look, or at least make it obvious. The thought of someone eyeing you up to possibly hurt or rob you comes to mind, and it’s not an outlandish scenario. Especially in the murder capital of the world.
Reaching for a copy of the war of the worlds, you inspect the shiny surface of the case whilst turning to subtly scope out the area. At first, you spot only kids and tourists moseying around, the odd employee walking to and fro with boxes and folders.
But then you catch it. You catch him. That bright jacket that stood out like peacock feathers amidst a background of monotone. You make brief eye contact that you unknowingly let linger before realising and sharply turning away, pretending to be interested in the price tag on the back of the VHS. Pretending that he didn't fluster you by the way he looked at you with intense awe. His eyes are expressive and almost boyishly innocent, if not for the way his irises are blown out, swallowing up the blue in his eyes.
This isn’t the first time you’ve caught this particular guy looking at you, and now actively settling with the conclusion that you now have your own stalker, you feel shaken if not morbidly curious.
He hasn’t approached you, but you often see him in the corner of your eye on the boardwalk at night, that head of cherub gold ringlets bathed in neon lights, the flash of a colourful jacket glinting in the murky dark tones against the backdrop of deep leather and night sky, and the weight of a lingering stare creeping from the shadows.
He’s always hanging around with that group of trouble. They look trouble. A handful of punks who like to make their motorcycles growl at passing tourists. Starting fights and splashing tired for fun.
They're crowded around him, all sticking together like a pack of hyenas or piranhas. Jeering and sauntering and grinning, doing so as they please. Are they a gang? Friends? Brothers? Lovers? You have no idea. But they appear close. Almost as if their souls were stitched together in a tapestry, unique threads woven together tightly.
Deciding to brush off his watchful eyes like usual, you approach the counter and buy the VHS.
Laying it flat on the sticky varnished counter top, you rummage through your purse to pay whilst the girl behind the till sorts the transaction out for you. Her eyes fleeting to the group of young men as they wander on over, a playful smile on her face as they throw a few flirty comments at her.
You freeze, feeling him walk just behind you. Still looking. He peers over your shoulder at the VHS you've just bought, and he lingers behind the group. You bristle at the attention.
The other blonde one thumps encouragingly on his back, whispering something you couldn't hear over the noise in the store. Something on the lines of "c'mon man" and "go to her".
Their eyes shine with amber, an unnatural hue, and it feels like you're looking at something otherworldly. Dangerous. An icy cold shrill prickles at your skin.
"Catch us later Marko". The supposed pale haired leader mutters, and you somehow catch it. Marko.
You leave before they have a chance to, and you feel like scurrying away. you even consider breaking out into a jog or a run, but this odd nagging feeling relaxes you all of a sudden. So you simply walk, looking out onto the passing traffic of people.
But then you hear footsteps. The scuff of rubber soles against gritty sand and cement sidewalk.
Somebody stands next to you, and you don't even need to guess who it is. You watch his little gang hop onto their bikes and drive away, watching you both with excited smirks and enthusiastic laughter.
“Hi. What’s your name?”.
His sudden approach dazes you a little, his tone is relaxed, yet friendly, and you simply turn to blink at him in a stupor. Is he really trying to chat you up now?
“…Robin”. You give him your name without thinking, lost a little in his eyes and voice and weird pull that tugs at you on the inside. You don’t flinch at it, only succumbing into the warmth.
“Robin”. He repeats your name, tasting the sound of it on his tongue. Almost savouring it. “Suits you. You’re little like one, s’what i mean”. He coos, laughing.
You purse your lips, clearly seeing he’s not a towering guy either, but you refrain from doing so. There’s something off about this guy that you can’t pinpoint, this nagging feeling about him feeling not right. Like he’s not normal, and not in a particular good way.
He inhales through his nose sharply before softening his expression. Unguarded and vulnerable.
“I like your outfit”. He murmurs softly, big rainwater blue eyes sweeping up and down over your ensemble with a flickering gaze, before an inviting smile warms his face. His dimples creasing, and he almost looks sweet. Talking to you so quietly as if he didn’t want you to flutter off.
“Thank you… I… I like yours too”. You mutter back softly, and his smile grows brighter. He scuffs his heel against the sand gritted sidewalk, and his hand nearly brushes past yours as you step aside out of the way for an oncoming person who’s speed walking through the crowd.
They push past you anyway, and be steadies you with a supportive hand, letting you lean against his shoulder. He hurls a ‘watch it!’ At them, the sappy soft look in eyes now glinting like burning sapphires, glaring at the guy who just bumped into you. He stares at the guy a little too long, sweeping his eyes over his retreating form. A little like how he looked at you just now to supposedly admire you, but this time it’s filled with something darker. Something vengeful.
"And you?".
His expression switches when he turns to you, almost deflating from his puffed up defense mode. His shoulders sag, and that approachable feeling washes over him again.
"Oh yeah, it's Mar-".
"Marko".
He blinks at you, smile faltering ever so slightly, before his eyes crinkle a little with smile lines. Flattered.
"You been stalking me or something?".
You raise a brow, feeling oddly brave.
“i was just about to ask the same question".
Silence washes over the both of you. You think maybe he's going to get defensive or aggressive, but he doesn't. He just looks at you. Curiously.
"Have you been following me?”. You utter the question you had been afraid of asking.
He pauses, fiddling with something colourful in his hands. Wrapped saltwater taffy candy. He seems to think for a moment before grinning at you like a Cheshire Cat.
“What? Me? Why would I do that birdie?”.
“I don’t know- that’s why I’m asking you”.
He laughs at your snappishness, liking the challenge in your voice.
“You’re new here, right?”.
You shrug lightly, hugging the VHS to your chest. "Recently, yeah... Why, are you a big deal around here?".
You have no idea where this casual confrontation or bravery has come from, but at this point you feel a conflicted whirlwind of emotions. Tired from working, anxious from being by yourself in a new place whilst knowingly being stalked by someone who doesn't seem quite human, and this odd sensation that relaxes you in his presence. Like you can speak your mind, something you've rarely done. Especially with strangers.
He smiles brightly, almost proudly.
"you could say that".
You're not sure why, but he sticks to your heel like a stray puppy. Even when you approach the little Chinese takeaway that you've grown a fondness to, he's still wandering by your side.
It's odd, but you can't say you hate the company. Perhaps it's just the loneliness getting to you.
Paying for your food, you sit down on a nearby bench. No way are you walking home and letting this guy know where you live, no matter how painfully endearing he is.
Diligently, he sits next to you. Leaning back into the bench, slouching. Watching you eat with. A smirk grows on his face, and you peer at him from the corner of your eye, puzzled.
“How’re liking those worms, birdie?”.
You blink at him, peering at him almost owlishly, before looking down into your takeout box.
Live, wiggling fat worms are squirming around in your takeout box. They feel warm and heavy in the container and you instinctively drop them on the floor out of surprise, but then you blink and they’re just plain glossy noodles again. All strewn on the sidewalk. You pause, brain stuttering at what had just happened.
Marko laughs, teasingly, before his expression drops at the sight of you looking frightened and then disappointed at your dinner spilled all over the floor.
“Ok what the fuck”.
“Sorry birdie, didn’t know you’d drop them”.
“Marko, what was that, how did you do that”.
"you really wanna know?". He coos softly, offering you a coy smile. Eyes twinkling warmly at you, head tilted like a guilty dog who's just dug up the garden.
"maybe I don't want to know". You speak after a few moments of suspenseful silence, and he laughs. His eyes crinkling with smile lines and his teeth flashing. They look sharp. Sharper than normal. You fretfully look away, pawing at your sleeve distractingly as you hear him order you another box of noodles.
He presses the warm box into your hands, and you find the courage to look up at him again. Conflicted. He feels so intimidating, yet approachable. You feel like bristling with fear, yet you feel like melting around him. It's strange. This magnetic pull both excites and frightens you. You speak up again, voice timid and almost hesitant.
"So you know my name. Anything else you know?". His eyes trace over your face, fiddling lightly with a badge on his sleeve.
"I just know that... You're very dangerous. And not... Not like me".
"Well, yeah". His shoulders brushes against yours, and a fishing lure bristles over the fabric of your shirt. Bright sparkly tassels against dark fabric. Like a supernova against a night sky.
"I'm not like you". He whispers, and a subtle solemnity fills his eyes as he looks at you. It feels like a double meaning, both tender and sad. But he perks up and smiles at you, clasping firmly yet eagerly at your wrist to keep walking by your side.
"But that makes it more exciting, doesn't it? I like it".
His thumb rubs circles against your wrist, and you fluster. You're sure he can feel your pulse flutter under his touch. He hasn't denied the dangerous part.
"Will I speak to you again? Like, actually speak. No Michael Myers stuff, right?".
He quirks a soft smirk at your words and slightly nudges his forehead against your temple. Strangely enough you feel at ease with it. The affection feels natural and right.
"Yeah. If you'd like me too? I'd like to".
His voice drops into a soft low whisper, and you forget to exhale for a moment. Shyly, you nod. The skepticism melts away ever so slightly as he squeezes your wrist and pulls you over to his parked bike. A bright triumphant grin on his face.
The ride home goes by in a blurry haze of starlight and warm hands. You faintly recall him urging you onto the back of the bike, patting it down and cooing promises. The takeout box is squeezed in your lap as you hug his waist from behind, and your cheek is still indented from being pressed against the back of his jacket covered in beads and badges. The rush of chilly ocean wind and evening air filling your lungs as he takes you home. You don't even recall telling him where you live, and yet he finds your apartment with no issue. You willingly decide to not dwell on it now for reasons unbeknownst to you.
He parks in front of your door, and his headlights bathe your apartment in light. He moves to squeeze your arm goodbye, but because you shyly tug at his arm a little, he eagerly pulls you into a hug. His face tucked against your neck and his arms folded and locked around you. It's eager- a little too eager at first, but he relaxes his hold after feeling you wince a little. He sure is impatient. Adaptable, however.
He pulls away to look at you. His big eyes are twinkly and soft and dark.
"Goodnight".
Your name is the last thing he utters before hopping onto his bike, revving and disappearing into the night.
The noise of several other bikes echo in the distance, followed by enthusiastic whoops and cheers.
You can't help but roll your eyes, both in exasperation and endearment.
Slumping onto your couch, now alone, you feel numb and dazed with disbelief. You feel something in your pockets as you sit down however, and you fish out a handful of saltwater taffy and a green lollipop. Your heart skips a little realising he had snuck them into your pockets when he hugged you.
You're sure you'll see him again.
And he's more than sure he'll see you.
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☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆
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-
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How Me and my little cousins be at the family function listening to all the drama going down

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Welcome ✦ ⎯⎯ㅤִㅤ୭ ୨♡୧ ৎㅤִ ⎯⎯ ✦
What I write:
♡ The lost boys
♡ house of wax
Fluff/horror/smut/angst



I take suggestions and ideas, so feel free to pop something in my inbox! I'll try to get round to them, but if something in particular inspires me I'll be happy to write something! :3 <3
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☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆
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".
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☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆
𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕷𝖔𝖘𝖙 𝕭𝖔𝖞𝖘
⋆˙⟡♡ PAIRING ˚୨୧⋆。˚ ⋆ Paul x fem reader ۶𖹭ৎ
⋆ ˚。⋆ SYNOPSIS ⋆ ˚。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚。⋆ Paul headcanons<3
⋆˙⟡♡ AUTHORS NOTE ˚୨୧⋆ hope you enjoy! I'd love to talk and hear about what you guys think the guys'personalities and interests would be! :]
✧ ⁺ 𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 ⋆。˚ ⋆ possessiveness, suggestive behaviour from Paul ig cuz he's handsy, nicknames 'baby' and 'sweetheart'.
☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆
Paul as your partner...
He's a package of chaos, hairspray, and fishnet all wrapped up together with studded leather- deceptively sweet and tender. He's playful and carefree, ruling the night with his fellow boardwalk vampires.
Living as a thrill chaser, he's lovesick and eager to have you in his un-life .As a partner he's both your best friend and your lover. Engaging in deep conversations with searching eyes and a thirst to know the finest threads of your existence whilst tethering himself to you with shared breath and protective touches. His hands roaming both your soul and your body, eager to express himself truly.
He always wants to lift you up and make you feel wanted and beautiful. Because you are with him.
He never does things half-assed. Everything is intentional. The compliments, the flirtatious comments, his eyes admiring over your face to peer into your eyes as if hoping to see right into your soul for him to grasp and keep. All with a dopey lovesick smile and alluring dark eyes.
Eccentricity has always been his style, and you're no exception from it. He loves you wildly and freely, just like how he wants to live forever. With you by his side.
ℌ𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔬𝔫𝔰
♡ Expresses a lot of affection for you through music. From making you personalised mixtapes with songs that he thinks you'll like, to songs that express how he feels about you. (Always in the form of dark sultry rock with an ache of yearning, or electric and pulsing and exciting). One thing he loves doing with you is taking you on dates to the concerts, holding you in his arms as you both rock to the music. He keeps you safe in the crowds.
♡ He's very touchy and physically affectionate, and he always matches your level of comfort. An arm slung snug around your shoulder as he walks with you around the boardwalk, chilled calloused fingers and dull spiky jewellery tracing shapes up and down your skin when he has you curled up in his lap for a lazy cuddle.
His breath ghosting against your neck as he kisses up your jaw sweetly and teasingly to wake you up, fingertips tracing the hollow of your throat to feel your pulse flutter. Grinning against your neck as he playfully presses the blunt of his teeth against the delicate skin there, before kissing over it again apologetically. Grunting little laughs as you swat and squirm against him. He's just playing. Was that too much? Yeah? Awe.
♡ Climbs up to your window to kiss you goodnight. He's often hovering outside the apartment late at night just to see you, checking in on his favourite girl.
He'll be casually hanging outside your window, legs kicking contently as his knuckles barely pale as he grips the ledge of your windowsill with ease. Peering at you with devastatingly pretty doe blue eyes that make you shy as he charms his way into receiving a kiss. Maybe even charm himself inside, all to get your permission.
Serenades you with a boombox to make you laugh- and he can't help but grin back when he sees you roll your eyes and laugh sweetly at how he's standing below your window with that big clunky boombox held high above his head. Feigning a silly cheesy cry of apologies and confessions from a bad romcom. He's ridiculous, and he does it to make you laugh.
♡ He'll give you piggyback rides around the boardwalk when you get tired. Carrying you through the glowing light of twilight, placing you high on his shoulders to watch the concert. Your heart beats steadily and intimately against him when he has you close to him like this, so loud and so sincere that it fills his empty ribs with life he hadn't known he was missing. Your heart is capable of filling the both of you with life.
♡ He's protective of you, and hates to see you upset.
His grin will fall the moment he hears that you're upset or hurt, or if someone has made you uncomfortable. He drops the charade of aloofness and messing around to something eerily serious. What? Someone said something that upset you today? C'mere, tell me about it yeah? Come to me?
♡ Finds peace with you when he gets high.
There's not a better down to earth pastime to him more so than simply melting into his makeshift bed of plush cushions and fabric, the noise of crashing waves echoing in the distance, and you nestled snugly against his side with your fingers in his hair. Holding the rolled spliff to his lips to breathe in, surrounded by the scent of weed and you.
"You're so beautiful". You sigh softly, giggling at his awe struck expression. His eyes are blue and bright and devastatingly pretty.
He blinks at you. Slow and sleepy. The whites of his eyes are a hazy bloodshot rosy pink.
"Y'think I'm pretty?". He murmurs softly, and you chuckle again at his expression. Like he's seeing the moon for the first time. Unblinking and awe struck.
You reach to pinch his cheek, cooing pretty boy . He takes your wrist before you can pull away and he nuzzles against it. The coarseness of light facial hair and warm skin nestled against your palm. He's blushing.
"I could just eat you up baby, saying stuff like that". He grumbles against the clammy skin of your palm, dragging his tongue over the intricate unique creases in your hand. Savouring it. Memorising it. He makes a sound like a moan.
"Y'taste like sugar". He slurs, groaning.
"Ew, Paul!". You shriek a little giggle, attempting to shimmy off his chest. His arm just clamps around your waist tighter. Clingy and spoiled.
"No come back, seriously, you taste like sugar. Fuck, you drive me crazy baby".
He presses slow open mouthed kisses over your wrist and up your arm. You bristle, feeling teeth graze over skin. You can't quite pinpoint if it's fear or arousal. Maybe both. Still, you are instinctively tense.
Paul, in his intoxicated daze, still notices. He presses one last kiss against your upper arm before lightly pressing his nose against the spot where he kissed. Inhaling deeply.
"You drive me crazy... But y'know what else you do?". He murmurs softly in a breathy slur. Like a whispered secret only meant for you.
Slowly, he leans back against the mattress, taking you with him. His hair sprawls around him like a golden halo, and you're cradled against his chest again. You can feel your own heart beat loudly against his cold hollow chest.
"You make me so calm. Like... You're so peaceful and gentle, it makes me feel like I'm hanging on cloud nine. Like I'm dreaming. Like I'm in heaven".
His tone is sombre and happy. You feel like tearing up at the confession.
He nudges his ring clad knuckles lightly against your chin, leaning in to inhale your soft breath. Finding be likes this much better than the half finished spliff that's burning in the ash tray next to him.
"You're the closest thing I'll get to heaven".
He blinks at you. Searchingly, almost begging. Like he's asking for something he doesn't know the answer to.
"can I keep you?".
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NIRVANA, 23.07.93 - Roseland Ballroom (New Music Seminar), New York, NY, US 🇺🇸.
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Bombs awayyyy




This is what I've been working on for weeks!!! That's my Marko artdoll finishedd!!!!
Extra pics below!!
The jacket is approx 3 inches, tiny!! Painting it was so fun actually but also why did I bother




I also made him a pigeon, a request from d server LMFAOO


I'll try to see if I can post more pics. I need another photoshoot.
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found both at a second-hand bookstore today!
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