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.
Something a bit more funny for once... Well, funny to me and @vlka-fenryka
The two Davids using different seduction techniques to get Michael.
I always hc OG David as very particular about showing skin, as his clothes are his armor and he's a bit old-fashioned. So showing a naked hand to Michael is to him equivalent to showing off a naked ankle in Victorian times xD
Musical David, on the other hand, is very much aware of his assets and their effect on people. Thus, he has no problem with overloading poor Michael's brain with those pecks to get what he wants.
Me, I would fall for both tactics and then contemplate my life choices... As did poor Star.
No matter which version though, David's brothers are his biggest cheerleaders and best wingmen :)
The part Michael drinks gives me the chills! I wish they bought back the bejeweled bottle (besides the end of the musical) Not my video! Credit to the owner
THE LOST BOYS X MONSTER HIGH!!! I like the collab doll they did do, but I think these boys would've made perfectly ghoulish Mansters on their own! I loved translating things like Marko's jacket into what I think an MH doll would have, same with some added/moved around accessories! And ofc, WAY more funky shoes lmaoo. Lemme know what y'all think, I might do Michael n Star, maybe even Max!!
Warnings: Fluff, Vague Mentions of Alcohol, Weed, and Violence
Word Count: 802
Main Masterlist: Here
Horror Masterlist: Here
Summary: Coming from different cultures, and different times, the boys each have different ideas of how to properly express their interest in a lady.
Consider Donating: Here
It started when she was still human. Dwayne had found her wandering the boardwalk— aimless and searching. She was tracing her eyes over the stalls, pausing to scan different wears and items that caught her fancy.
He was observant; that much was obvious. Quiet with eyes that saw through the cracks and lines that threatened to cover nature’s true intent. Dwayne noticed that she started walking to the beach after a while when she had normally taken her bicycle down.
However, one of those surf nazi’s was riding around on a familiar bike in the parking lot of the pier. His face wound up on a missing persons poster. And when she woke up the next morning, her bike was back, in brand-new condition, with a small ‘D’ intricately and carefully carved into the metal.
Paul met her at the edge of a bonfire, where the music bled into the night air and laughter carried farther than it should have. She was barefoot in the sand, toes curling against the cooling embers, swaying like she did not care who was watching— and Paul watched immediately.
He was not subtle about it. Never had been. He hovered close, and worked up the courage to make the first contact, though the joint he hammered before hand probably helped.
Paul offered her a drink she did not take, talked her ear off about nothing and everything until she smiled just to keep up. He noticed when she stopped showing up to the bonfires after midnight, when she left early with her jacket clutched too tight around her shoulders. Paul noticed the way she shivered even when the fire was high.
The next time she came, there was a blanket waiting. Stolen, probably. Clean, definitely. Draped around her shoulders with a grin and a shrug like it was nothing at all.
“How’d you know I’d be cold tonight,” she asked, snuggling into the warmth he provided.
“I sometimes pay attention,” came his reply.
She found herself staying later after that. Laughing louder. Talking easier. Leaving with warm hands and warmer memories she couldn’t quite explain.
Marko was baffled because she did not move out of his way. Did not flinch when his bike cut too close, did not apologize when his shoulder brushed hers on the boardwalk. She met his stare head-on, unafraid and unimpressed.
He tested her after that. Lingered too close, stole things from her hands just to see if she would chase him down. Sometimes she did. Sometimes she did not. Either way, she did not leave. Marko noticed who else noticed her; the way men’s gazes lingered too long, the way attention turned sharp when it thought it could take something.
One night, someone tried. The man tried to grab her, hands going around her throat. She never saw Marko move, only heard the scuffle behind her and the crack of bone against pavement, before he continued ushering her to the light of the boardwalk again.
The next morning, her necklace, the one that had snapped during the struggle, was waiting on her windowsill, repaired and warm from someone else’s hands. When she confronted him, Marko just shrugged, smirked, like he had all the secrets.
The cherub vampire stayed closer after that. Close enough to touch. Close enough to choose her, over and over.
David noticed her because she was consistent. Same path down the boardwalk. Same pause at the rail. Same thoughtful expression, like she was weighing the night before stepping into it.
He never approached her at first. David believed in watching— in understanding a thing completely before touching it. He learned her habits, the rhythm of her life, the moments when she was most vulnerable without ever realizing it. The boardwalk bent subtly around her presence; danger veered away before it reached her.
She began to feel safer without knowing why. Doors locked themselves. Lights flickered on when she needed them. Once, she found her keys arranged neatly on her kitchen table after she’d sworn she had lost them. Like a guardian angel watching over her, and not once did she notice the icy blue eyes following her.
When they finally met, she put two and two together. There was just something about the way David watched her that made her realize exactly who he was to her. David offered nothing flashy; only the promise that as long as he existed, she would not be unguarded again.
And when she officially joined the pack, well… everyone fell into a comfortable rhythm. Dwayne would repair and silently gift her what she needed. Paul offered stolen items of comfort, stuff that will remind her of them. Marko, he was shifty eyed, almost like he was waiting for a chance to defend her honor. And David was a silent guardian, watching over.
