#dwayne the lost boys

[walssh]

Guess what just came to my mind...

[bitter-asexual]

*Trips and more Lost boys textposts spill out of my pockets*

[a5trocreep]

some dwaynepaul crumbs bc unfortunately, i love them too much to let go

[starlahuskyz]

Lost boys beefing with each other on twitter

[yourhostfortheevening]

he lived, said 8 words in the entire film, served face and then died 💔 Dwayne you will be missed...

gonna get through all the lost boys eventually (+star maybe) my Marko version is here

[doeyeddaydream]

☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕷𝖔𝖘𝖙 𝕭𝖔𝖞𝖘

⋆˙⟡♡ PAIRING ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ Dwayne x fem reader ۶𖹭ৎ

⋆ ˚｡⋆ SYNOPSIS ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ Dwayne headcanons <3

✧ ⁺  𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 ⋆｡˚ ⋆ n/a?

☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆

Dwayne is a deceptively tender lover. His nonchalant brazenness is merely an aspect of his quieter, more calmer personality in comparison to his crew of extravagant brothers.

His love is quiet, often wordless, yet deep and rooting. He feels and thinks deeply, often he'll lull himself into gazing at you with his dark unblinking eyes. Glinting frightfully yet alluringly, like hot embers backed deep inside his skull, peering through your flesh into your soul. Like he wants to devour you and kiss you at the same time.

The brooding coolness he gives off is only skin-deep. You'll probably never truly grasp how tightly his soul is tethered to yours, but he can only try.

His company is calm and comforting. A husky low voice in your ear, dark eyes pinned to your form wherever you go, and his presence mysterious yet enthralling.

ℌ𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔬𝔫𝔰

♡ Likes to go on late night walks with you to have deep conversations. He's an excellent listener. Trailing beside you, kicking at sand and seafoam as you talk about something that you find interesting or personal. Carefully listening, scarcely speaking. Attentively drinking in your voice and thoughts beneath the veil of night and starlight. Safe under his watch.

His attention is solely on you. Asking questions with his low husky voice, his expression turning gentle when you answer.

♡ He's a listener, and listens to your workplace gossip and drama contently whilst he works on his bike. Peering up from his maintenance work to flicker his gaze fondly at you, humming intently, making subtle facial expressions when you whisper or giggle out something particularly interesting or juicy.

♡ He let's you touch his hair. He'll let you play with it and style it. Contently enjoying you carding your fingers through his hair as you braid it or tie it back into a loose ponytail. If you give him a sillier hairstyle he'll just look at you fondly and let you play. Just don't be surprised that he took it down later. Gives you an excuse to style it again.

He's settled between your legs on the cave floor, leaning back between your parted thighs. You're settled on one of the old couches made up of torn aged velvet and plush box springs.

Candle light flickers warmly in the darkness, the scent of salt, earth, and musk lingering thickly in the air.

Dwayne's head is tipped back gently in your hands, his eyes shut in silent bliss as you card your fingers through his hair. Lightly scratching at his scalp whilst gathering his long ebony black hair to twist into a loose braid.

"I remember having my hair braided like this. Long ago. By someone important".

Dwayne utters out in a soft purr, tilting his head back in content into your hand, melting against your touch.

His words are a whisper, a memory from far away, one that he hasn't looked back on in years he can't recount. It's sombre. Sincere. Vulnerable.

Lost.

The confession settles in your heart, and a mutual silence settles peacefully between the two of you.

Your palm smooths over his hairline, and he purrs quietly. Dark lashes resting against the skin of his cheeks.

"You're important to me. I hope you know that".

Somber and touched, you tilt his head back so you can kiss his forehead. The corners of his lips tug upwards in a light smile.

His fingers curl around your ankle, stroking it tenderly. Possessively.

Finishing the braid, you tie it with a scrunchie. You manoeuvre it to drape over his shoulder, and his lips find your wrist. Lips tracing the veins, cold calloused fingertips tangle with your own.

"you're important to me too... I've never met someone like...".

"someone like me?". He finishes your sentence, chuckling in a low breathy purr. You flush and nod. Squeezing his thumb.

"I'd hope not sweetheart".

♡ Good at reassuring you. He's level headed and calm, tapped deeply into your emotions.

He's observant and patient, catching the slightest flicker of emotion in your eye or the hesitation before a breath.

He'll hold your hand and whisper words of encouragement and reassurance. Pulling you away somewhere quiet, wordlessly, knowing just by the shared look you have that you need an escape.

♡ Naps with you. If you're staying over in the cave and have stayed up with them all night, he'll happily stay with you in bed. Tucking your head snugly against his chest to settle down for sleep. His arm settled around you, and your fingers tangled loosely in his hair. Humming and breathily singing a song in a language unknown to you, yet intimate and precious to him.

♡ His protectiveness is subtle, yet loud without needing to be spoken.

He ushers you to hide in his shadow or tuck into his side when you look uncomfortable and upset. The brace of muscle beneath leather shielding you. His glare is dead-eyed and unwavering.

"Let's go for a ride". He'll usher, his hand eclipsing yours, guiding you towards his bike whilst glaring deeply at whoever made you feel unsafe. A dark promising look lingering in his gaze, the air tensing around him.

♡ his style of affection is subtle, yet meaningful.

Like letting you lounge against him on the sofa when you're sleepy, tracing the veins on his hand and wrist as you try to stay awake. Lightly squeezing your hand when you yawn against his shoulder, a calloused thumb grazing over your knuckles as he softly breathes against your ear if you want to go to get some sleep. His touch is supportive and sheltering, attentive and watchful.

Or how he hovers from a distance, waiting for you to retreat to him like the tide. Calmly walking close, letting you flutter back to him when you want to. A quiet, supportive hand placed on your lower back whenever you linger over to his side.

Watching you, waiting for you to come to him, a silent call with his eyes. To curl into his lap or seat yourself on his thigh so he can feel you close, thrumming with life and blood and breath. His expression softening and a smile lilting at the corner of his lips in a half smile, flexing his hand at your waist to squeeze and pull you closer. Content.

Happy.

[bornfreakdraws]

*arrives 37 years late to the party* so uhhh 'The Lost Boys' (1987) huh

[spicyboelives]

I was supposed to draw horror movie stuff last month but I wasn’t able to 😬 we’re doing it this month(s).

[batty4vamps]

Now for 20, Bedroom (or rather in this case cove) set up! This was a lot more fun and went a lot longer than I thought it would lmao

I wrote this as if the guys have their own private caverns off of the main cave cus I really like the idea of that

Dwayne spends most of his time outside of the cave working on the bikes, so his actual cave space is pretty small. He likes it that way. Walking in you’ll see a cracking leather couch (found on the side of the road in a residential), a record player on a side table that looks as old as the ruins of the hotel, his records (neatly organized in crates), and a few cassettes he doesn’t share. He has more tapestries than posters, finding a way to somehow make his space look more like a fortune teller’s booth than a cavern. It’s an ambient cove, an eclectic but dim collection of battery powered lamps scattered about and paperbacks piled up everywhere. Of the few posters among the tapestries, almost all of them are of the bikes he admires. They inspire him to keep getting use out of the toolbox on the floor, which has had since he was a human teenager. Dwayne’s room is one of the only places he feels like he can be as quiet and contemplative as he wants without interruption, it is his peace, and it’s just as calming as he is.

David’s room is the most well kept, and completely off limits to everyone else. If he finds trace of someone being in there it’s bad news. He keeps it very dim usually, with a few candles lit so he can read. The walls are adorned with various posters, collected from music stores all around Santa Carla. His most valuable possessions are his horror vhs collection, his old (and possibly quite rare) hardback books, the journals he’s kept since his human days, and a shockingly luxurious arm chair. A medium sized crate sits to the side of the chair, pens and a deck of cards sitting neatly atop it, as well as a leather bound book marked “1987”. There’s several thick blankets tossed over the back of the chair, and a stool sitting in front of it, scuffed with years of boot prints. David’s small study of a cavern is most often silent, perhaps the only place in the world he’s truly vulnerable.

Marko’s quarters are exactly as messy as you’d think they’d be, but he knows exactly where everything is. The cavern’s walls are completely engulfed by an amalgamation of stolen street signs, graffiti, shoddily pinned up artwork, and Christmas lights. The floor is covered with a large, paint splattered rug, clothes, a box of spray paint cans, pigeon feathers, stacked up comic books, and beanbag chairs. There’s a nearly ruined wood coffee table sat in the middle of it all, on top of which sits every manner of art supply and trinket you could imagine. There’s multiple small jewelry boxes filled with beads, pop tabs, bottle caps, fishing lures, shiny rocks, and beach debris, fabric scraps and safety pins, rolls of twine, thread, and ribbon, mint containers of needles, and even small jars of colored clay, inevitability drying out. What’s even more interesting are the various projects under construction scattered about. A bright portable reading light is clipped to the table, washing out the glow of the rainbow tinted lightbulb somehow hanging from the ceiling (probably something hand wired, definitely a fire hazard). Marko’s room is his studio for art of any and all variety, and he fucking loves it.

Paul has by FAR the most robust poster collection. His cove (the largest one) is lit by a spinning rainbow lamp and plastered in every Mötley Crüe, Poison, Twisted Sister, and Van Halen poster he could find. Not to mention the variety of rock video vixens pinned in between. The rock box, no doubt blasting one of the previously mentioned favorites, can also be found in Paul’s room, next to no less than 3 boxes of tapes that frame a sagging mattress. Layered with various sheets, blankets, towels and the like, there are exactly two things the bed in this room is actually used for, neither of them being sleeping. Scattered on the floor around the mattress are stacks of magazines, ranging from Playboy and Playgirl to KERRANG! and Creem, pages warped from repeated reading. Some of the free posters from the mags are tucked into the corners of the broken vanity table in the corner, the top of which is stocked with a life time supply of hair spray, a rat tail comb, and eyeliner. The jewelry that should be in the vanity drawers is instead haphazardly scattered about the room at random. In the drawers you’ll actually find Paul’s true essentials- lighters, his stash, lube, and hand cuffs. Paul’s room is exactly the den of debauchery he’d always dreamed of.

Taglist: @positive-pluto13 @fanofgunsnroses @sullyselena @thelostboyslove-ect @gibzzsworld @amercanfailure @glowingtoenails @vxncevis @just-some-user-hunny @mattzcattz @saltyearthquakedeer

Hey can u do 15 and 20 for the lost boys.Thankyou

15 ended up being deep and going very long, so I’m gonna answer 20 in a reblog, i hope that’s okay!!

15. Thoughts on romance and/or sex

I have so many thoughts about the emotional perspectives of these homicidal lil guys, enjoy!!

Includes: ‼️nsfw content‼️, commitment issues, vulnerability issues, and somewhat toxic romantic behavior

Thoughts on romance and/or sex?

I’m writing this from a monogamous perspective, but I think the general outlooks could apply to polyamory as well

Dwayne: Outwardly he’s very nonchalant about romance, but I think deep down he’s kind of a softie for it. He doesn’t actively think about it much, he’s selective. He doesn’t really do flings or casual romantic relationships. It takes a certain kind of person to pursue him long term, and convince him to do the same.

When he finds his person, though, he takes a lot of joy in playing the classic romantic. It sneaks up on him, but when someone real strikes that romantic nerve in him, he’s open. Slow moving, and not making any promises, but open. He lets himself be romanced, and then, when he’s sure, he returns it in kind.

When it comes to sex, he’s also slightly selective- at least in comparison to Paul. He goes after who he wants, and no one less. He’s somewhat sadistic with it from there, though. He doesn’t give it up right away, he likes to play with his food a little. He likes watching you get desperate under his stare, waiting impatiently for him to break the tension. Then, he likes to fuck, hard and often.

David: He acts pretty indifferent most of the time. He doesn’t flirt necessarily, and he doesn’t really have to with that stare of his. He’ll indulge those brave enough to make passes at him, taking pleasure in knowing the end result is a meal for the night.

However,

to him, the idea of romance- true, intimate romance, is hopeless. It’s not for him to have, and it would be stupid of him to entertain it. Naturally, when it then comes to him, his instinct is to gnash his teeth. Kill the omen of vulnerability before it kills him. Usually it’s literal, but when he can’t carry that through, he knows it’s already too late. He channels his cruelty through what he knows- sadistic charm and mind games. He’s never beaten… until he is, and he realizes he’s left with no choice.

David’s real, raw manifestation of romance is surrender- knowing he’s stepped into a trap, and yet being unwilling to disarm it. It’s uncomfortable, and inevitably painful, but he can’t let go, he won’t.

Sex, he has far less complex thoughts about. If Dwayne is a little sadistic, David is straight up torturous. He doesn’t sleep around as much as the rest, purely because his brand of seduction happens over the course of multiple nights. He already knows his target will be his before saying a word. He plays the long con, and ohhhh is the reward sweet. He prefers his hunger and lust be satisfied at the same time, and his partners completely at his mercy.

Marko: I feel like Marko is constantly torn between his playfully flirtatious nature and his disdain for commitment. He’d never admit it, but in all honesty he is a bit of a romantic. There’s some boyish urge in him that craves a simple, cliche relationship- someone to hold hands with on the boardwalk and drive around on the back of his bike. Also, as a definite “weird kid,” I think he subconsciously yearns for the idea of a partner who “gets him.” Who joins in on all the violent, chaotic, colorful laughter that he is, and doesn’t expect him to be someone he’s not.

It’s even more cliche that the thing that stands in the way of him finding this connection is his own fear of commitment. He has partners, perhaps in a for more normal sense than the rest of the lost boys, but they never progress. The idea of being locked down makes him defensive and restless, and that usually ends whatever he has going on pretty fast, generally with plenty of bitter words being slung as a result. The he can breathe, believing it’s no big deal to him, but feeling rather different. Before he can ruminate, he spots someone else that seems worth knowing, and it all starts over.

When you see through that though- when you have the patience to say “I’m not asking you for anything” and mean it, he comes back sooner than even he thought he would. When you embrace his chaos and get in the best kind of trouble with him, he stays for longer than he “has” to. When you let him keep his secrets, and listen when he spills, he knows he’s sticking around this time. From there, you’ll never get rid of him.

He’s far too much of a tease to be anything but sex positive.

In terms of his approach, I think he’s quick witted in a way that makes classic flirting unnecessary. He can weave an innuendo into anything, and find a million excuses for physical contact. He’s good at bantering as well, and I think unlike Dwayne and David, talking is his preferred method of seduction. That and that damn smirk. Once the deed is being done, he’s fast, rough, and has a filthy fucking mouth.

Paul: He never has less than 2 situationships going on at once. He’s not romantic in classic sense at all, but he does like dating to an extent. He likes playing the game with people, and the transactional bond of making eachother feel good for a little while. He noncommittally goes from person at person, never really hiding his motives, and believing it’s all he’ll ever need. It is not.

Despite his constant revolving door of lovers, I think Paul always finds his cup less than full. He gets lonely, an itch he can’t seem to scratch, no matter how much casual sex and affection he pursues. Then he meets someone special, and holy fuck does he get it now.

Paul approaches romance like he approaches life, loud, chaotic, and with his entire ass. He’s all in right away. Not in the like “let’s get married and hyperactive blonde babies” way, but he’s at your side 24/7, stealing you everything you look at, and glaring at whoever looks at you constantly. He’s not direct with his romantic desires (he’s not really sure what the strat is on that when he actually has feelings), but it’s obvious enough that he really, really, REALLY likes you and wants to be around you all the time. For the first time since he was human, he yearns for something beyond a cheap thrill. He wants to fuck you, for sure, but he also wants to just lay with you, maybe even more so. He doesn’t know what to do with himself besides follow you around like a lost puppy, but he’s damn eager to figure it out.

Do I really need to explain that he’s a slut? Cmon. Look at him. (I say this with nothing but affection and respect for his game)

Fr though, Paul gets tail like a fucking veterinarian. He’s a shameless, and wildly efficient skirt chaser. He won’t fuck eeeveryone, but no one in their right mind would call him particular. He has an uncomplicated adoration for hedonism and pleasure of all kinds, and he’s damn proud of it.

I’ve been stewing on this one for days and am finishing it while half asleep, I’ll fix any mistakes at a later date. If you read all these please lemme know ur thoughts and hcs in the replies, I love talking about these boys!!

[walssh]

I find it impossible to think that Laddie didn't miss Dwayne even a little after he died.

[darlingnikkisixxxx]

The Lost Boys (1987)

Behind the scenes 🥡🎠

.

.

.

(The Picture Of Billy, Brooke & Chance at the phone booth is like my favorite picture ever. Chance was adorable in this film.)

[persephone-s-moon]

You're one of us now, Michael

[ria-coolgirl]

Awesome 🤩 @lostbetweenvampiresandmusic

So I (and a lot of people) hc Dwayne as a skater boy. So, could you please write a oneshot with Dwayne and his s/o sneaking into the skate park at night to teach them how to skate? Lol, sorry if this is weird, I just don't feel like he gets enough love. Hope you're doing well luv!!❤😘

So I already have one where he teaches a fem s/o how to skate in the cave - it's on his masterlist under the name Sk8er boy :) But, I do have some headcannons for you!

--------------

Dwayne prepared for this, alright. At night the skatepark is closed, and since its pretty dangerous for a human to skate in the dark when they can't see, he had to fix some lights for you. So, he kind of may have just put candles all over the place, lighting them up to make sure everything was visible for you.

He'd teach you the basics, and just take things slow you know.

Definitely taking every opportunity to touch and/or kiss you, or hold your hand while you're trying to skate you know?

He will definitely show off his skills, maybe even trying to teach you an easy one

He'll be incredibly caring if you fall and hurt yourself - he even made sure to have a first aid kit with him just in case, and he's immediately all over you making sure it's nothing more than just a bruise

If you like it, he will definitely teach you every time you want. He'd like to have a skatemate - as Paul dubbed it - and he'd be more than happy if it's you

The better you get at it, the more tricks he'll teach yiu

There will definitely be races to see who's faster. Dwayne hasn't lost yet.

At your birthday he will gift you your very own skateboard, probably with a design he made.

Just going on skate dates together?

Laddie sometimes joining the two of you on one of those little skateboards for kids, and him showing of his skills to you two

Honestly, Dwayne is the best when it comes to teaching these things cause he'll take his time, he'll be patient and he's just so kind and loving?

So yeah - I totally agree with you - if you want to learn how to skate find Dwayne. ;)

[otonokis]

these freakin guys

[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.

[ria-coolgirl]

Hahaha 😂