emma's dark corner

𝓇ℯ𝓁ℯ𝒶𝓈ℯ 𝓎ℴ𝓊𝓇 𝒽ℴ𝓁𝒹 ℴ𝓃 𝓂ℯ

𝓼𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂: you keep putting off the inevitable final step until one of your boys helps you to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰: poly!lost boys x f!reader (no use of y/n)

𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽: 3.2k

𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼: blood (like a lot of it), angst, sexual content (implied), swearing, mental manipulation, dissociating, intrusive thoughts, normal manipulation (if you squint), y'all know what's up so please take care of yourselves and skip if you need to

Not tonight.

The phrase practically burned on your tongue now with how often you'd been saying it. Almost every night for what felt like ten fuckin' years, even if it'd only been a few months.

It hadn't been easy since the boys were making themselves more difficult to resist than usual. In casual and not-at-all planned ways, of course.

They'd return to the cave after a hunt, covered in blood and smelling so heavenly that your mouth would water, and then not come near you for the entire night.

It was almost as excruciating as the pain you were putting yourself through, that was nothing to sneeze at either.

You'd known hunger before. Maybe not quite starvation, but you certainly knew what it was to feel a pang after a few days of not eating. (One of the things they'd promised to remedy by turning you)

This hunger was all-consuming.

It'd started slowly. A gnawing, festering beast at the pit of your stomach that did not want to be ignored.

Annoying? Sure, but it'd been easy to keep it chained up for those first few weeks.

You hadn't even really noticed when it'd gotten out of hand until it forced you to pay attention.

Something as inconsequential as a child skinning his knee on the boardwalk almost made you lose your mind.

Your boys had restrained you before you could do anything. Thankfully, by that point they were all still faster and had the better reflexes, but the unspoken sentiment shared among you all was clear. You needed to feed.

And, you couldn't name why you couldn't bring yourself to do it.

And then, three months had passed by. Now, as soon as you woke when the sun went down, your stomach burned with pain. What remained of your heartbeat pulsed behind your eyes in the worst headache you'd ever had. Your limbs all trembled as your body shivered, yearning to fill itself with the warmth that it could no longer produce itself.

Now, you knew why they never talked about the change. They hadn't anticipated you going through this. They thought you'd just cave.

Well, they didn't think of it as caving. You did.

They took you out to the boardwalk on what you thought was the worst possible night to do so, but that'd been done on purpose. That much was obvious.

Marko went ahead with you and Paul in tow while Dwayne and David brought up the rear, silent like security guards.

You walked with Paul's arm draped around your middle, leaning onto him as your feet dragged behind with invisible weights.

Your vision swam, neon lights blurring across your teary eyes like you were looking at the Milky Way.

"You okay, baby?"

Paul's words made it to your ears, but they echoed like you were still in the cave.

"I'm dying." You swallowed, jaw clenching so it wouldn't shake as the muttered words left your mouth.

The formless blob that was David's hand entered your line of sight, turning your chin toward someone nearby.

For someone so patient, he was growing tired of your dawdling.

The icy cold vice grip of his mind suddenly took hold of your brain, forcing your misty eyes to clear for a moment as your pupils focused on something.

It was only a man. The same height as Dwayne, if you had to guess. Paunchy, maybe a little shifty looking, but altogether average.

He was talking to a girl, who was probably thirty years his junior, leaning in close while she shied away.

Leering, creepy old man. You'd seen the type before. Been in that exact situation yourself.

You hated him. And God help you, it only made his blood smell more delicious.

"He's a blight on the world. No one would ever remember that he's gone." David's whispered words sound so certain that you're almost inclined to believe him.

You felt the pull on your chest, but you managed to keep your feet planted. "No."

"C'mon," Paul said, putting his hand on your shoulder and giving it a squeeze. "We've all done it. We all had to."

"I can't."

"Babe, the guy's an asshole." Marko offered, his tone trying to bring levity. "You'd be doing that girl a favor."

"I won't."

"You have to." David insisted.

"No. No, I-" You pulled away, three hands falling back to their sides as they all looked at you.

David didn't move an inch, but the glowering stare he gave you made it feel like he was almost standing in your skin, close as could be. "You're hungry. You're in pain. We're in pain having to watch it."

"No!" You shouted, starting to draw attention from the passersby as tears slipped down your cheeks. "No! I won't!"

You backed into Dwayne's chest and nearly flailed to get away, but he moved to stand with the other boys before he could startle you.

His hand went up, trying to settle you like a feral cat. "Calm down."

"We can help you." Paul said as he took a step closer. Marko wasn't far behind, extending his palm towards you and saying, "You don't have to do it alone."

"No, no! Get away from me!" You shrunk back, burying your face in your arms as you hugged yourself.

The boys stepped back, keenly aware of how awful this encounter was looking to whomever decided to stop and watch.

"Baby, just take a second-"

You turned tail and started running before Paul could finish his sentence.

The people in the crowd who didn't part for you were shoulder-checked and the wooden planks under your feet groaned from the force you exerted.

After crushing a boombox under your feet and probably trampling a few people as you descended onto the beach from the boardwalk, you darted off into the misty night.

___

You pumped your arms and forced your legs to run until they burned. You didn't go far, by any vampire standards. Just to the furthest end of the beach, where the boardwalk was a distant glimmer of light.

They could've pursued you. The part of you that wanted to give in almost hoped that they would. But, they didn't, and you were alone.

Your limbs tingled, the rush of adrenaline coming down as you collapsed onto the sand.

It was cold. All the heat it'd accrued from the sun during the daytime had been sapped away, and working the grit through your fingers did nothing to warm it.

The water was cold. The air was cold. The boys were cold. Everything was cold.

You just wanted to feel normal again.

You didn't know how long you were there alone. It felt like days, but it could've been minutes. Maybe even hours.

Even if his approach was silent, you didn't need a warning sound anymore. You could feel his presence, palpable as if his mind had a corporeal form.

"Please, don't ask." You pleaded, glancing at Dwayne over your shoulder. "I can't stop thinking about it. I don't wanna talk about it either."

He just blinked, no nod or change in expression, but your words still felt acknowledged.

"What are you doing?" He asked, moving to crouch down behind you.

You looked down at your hands, suddenly aware of your actions while you'd been off in space.

"Digging." You answered. The hole was barely a foot deep, despite how long you'd been having at it, because you'd been shoveling with your hands. Sand was packed under your fingernails. "What are you doing?"

He shrugged, moving to sit next to the newly formed crater in the sand. "Watching. Why are you digging?"

"… I don't know. To go to China, maybe." A strong breeze coming off the sea sent your tall pile of sand plummeting back into the hole. "Or not."

You flipped over and sat in the shallow remains of your tunnel, languidly stretching out and setting your head down on the sand. "Why are you watching?"

"Because I care about you."

You looked over, and your heart would've skipped a beat (if you still had a heartbeat) from the profound sadness in his eyes.

"It's not out of spite." You said, shaking your head to keep your emotions level.

"Then, what is it?" He probed further. "We'd never make you do anything, but we deserve to know."

"Fuck!" You exclaimed loudly, clearly startling him since you saw a subtle flinch. "You know you guys don't make this easy, right? I just-"

You glanced over at his face and saw the intense focus, a willingness to listen that you hadn't bothered to see before.

"It's my life, right? My life. It was one of, like, five possessions I had before I met you. And, I scraped, and fought, and bled to keep it." Your fingers found rest on your wrist, feeling for a pulse. The subconcious habit had been present since you were a teenager. "And, it's not that I don't love you or don't want to be with you. I do. I want that more than anything."

You stood, needing some outlet to get energy out of your restless body. "It's just not that easy, y'know? It's the only life I've got. It's everything, it always has been, and I'm just supposed to let it go like it's a phase I just went through."

You gestured out to the sea, arms waving about as you made your point, "I'll never learn to fly a plane. I'll never have children. I'll never be fifty, having a mid-life crisis. I-I'll never go to fuckin' Disneyland."

"Do you want to go to Disneyland?"

"… no, but that's not the point." You pinched the top of your nose between your brows. "I- fuck, I don't even know. I'm scared! Okay? I'm fuckin' scared."

You turned towards and stared down into the recesses of his dark eyes. His posture had only relaxed as he reclined on the sand.

"I'm scared that I'll regret it. Maybe you'll regret it. Like, I'm suddenly not interesting anymore and you realize 'Aw, crap, now we've gotta spend eternity with this tightwad' and there's nothing you can do about it." You took a breath, bottom lip quivering. "What if you get bored of me?"

A beat of silence passed.

"You done?"

"Yeah, I think so."

He patted the spot next to him and you drop down, plopping your head onto his shoulder as you both stared out at the ocean.

It's comfortable and familiar. It sent a small spark of joy down your spine. It was like old times.

"I could never get bored of you."

"You say that," you say, shaking your head. "But how can you know it?"

"You like Through the Looking Glass, right? Isn't it your new favorite album?"

His pivot almost gave you whiplash, but you nodded, "Yeah."

"And, you like 'Hall of Mirrors' on it, 'Sea Breezes', and 'The Passenger', yeah?"

"You know I do, what's your point?"

He turned to look at you, and your head rose up to meet his gaze.

"You worried that you'll play the songs enough that you won't like them anymore?"

The deadpan pout appeared on your face simply due to the fact that you somehow hadn't seen that grand conclusion coming. That, and because you would never willingly admit to someone else being right. At least, not at first.

He leaned in to kiss your hairline, then your two closed eyes, before leaning his forehead against yours. "I will never stop loving you. None of us will."

You could only nod, overwhelming sadness tugging at your heartstrings. "Okay."

He pulled you closer, resting his face on your shoulder. "You don't have to suffer alone or keep the difficult things to yourself. We can handle it."

"Okay." You nodded again, interlocking your fingers with his as you breathed together.

"Dwayne?"

"Yes, gorgeous?"

"I'm so hungry."

"Okay… What do you wanna do about it?"

___

What you had anticipated to be the most difficult experience of your life ended up being as easy as singing the ABC's.

Dwayne had lured the guy off the boardwalk with the promise of smokes and booze. Obviously, that wasn't what was waiting for him in the woods.

It was you, vamped out and pouncing as soon as he came into your view.

Desperation and rage fueled you, making every rip, tear, and bite at his flesh more brutal. You found yourself consumed by the feral beast you'd nurtured with your hesitance.

Rather than being grateful at the opportunity, it raged at having to wait so long to be fed.

You swallowed mouthful after mouthful so quickly that you were worried you'd choke, but there was no restraint left to stop yourself.

No meal you'd ever eaten as a human was as satisfying as the blood drained from the pervert's corpse.

Heat flooded through you, filling every inch of your body with pulsing life. You felt intoxicated, high from the thrill, and so hot you thought you might burst into flames.

When you finally came back to yourself, you looked down at your clothing, clinging to your skin from being soaked through so thoroughly.

"Is that it?" You whispered, looking down at the mangled thing at your feet. You could hardly call it a man anymore. "Is it over?"

You turned your face back up and saw Dwayne, looking slightly stunned from watching the display. "Yeah, honey, that's it."

"Damn…" you muttered. "So, that's what twelve pints of blood looks like."

And, for some reason, you started howling with delirious laughter. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and your sides ached with the effort.

A warm sensation on your skin brought you back to earth, and your cackling was replaced with breathless panting.

When you finally collected yourself, Dwayne was standing next to you, hand tenderly placed on the small of your back.

You turned, taking in his expression. His eyes were dark, heavy with awe and relief.

"I got a little, uh…"

You glanced down and began to realize how incredibly apparent the carnage was. Blood had soaked through to your torso, staining it red. Your fingers stuck on to where you'd rested them on your tights. You would lick your lips only to find them still coated.

"…carried away."

He reassured you with the greatest three words you'd ever heard, coupled with pure, unadulterated love in his eyes, "You were perfect."

You snorted, smiling as you tried to wipe the blood around your eyes, "I look like I just went ten rounds with a swarm of, like, a hundred mosquitoes."

His short laugh sounded to you like a raucous chuckle, and you giggled with pride for being the cause.

His arms wound around you, lifting you off the ground and into his arms. You were startled by the warmth since you'd gotten used to a pleasant shiver caused by his touch.

You knew, then, that you'd never feel cold like you had ever again.

"Thank you," he spoke into your hair as he held so you tightly you almost wheezed.

When he set you down, he let his arms linger, hands trailing down to rest on your hips, testing the new feeling of your skin against his.

Tonight, you realized, wasn't a night for hesitance anymore. You'd given in to one kind of hunger. What would it matter if you gave in to the other kind?

You practically peeled your t-shirt off your body, staring at what used to be lilac-colored fabric. It was the same red of the man's aorta, torn from his body and strewn on the forest floor.

You dragged your thumb against your still wet cheek and flicked your tongue out to wet your lips before smearing blood over them, watching his pupils dilate and feeling his grip on you tighten.

You kissed him with a different kind of passion and energy. New life coursed through your veins alongside David's blood, filling you with indescribable sensations. Power, lust, love, strength, purpose. It was everything all at once.

When his hands moved upward onto your waist, the sudden contact on your bare skin sent a jolt through you. The feeling was different, different even than it had been when he'd held your hand earlier in the night. It wasn't unpleasant exactly.

It was more like dipping your toes into a scalding hot bath. Sure, it stung for a moment, but your muscles released all your pent-up tension as they relaxed.

You melted into his embrace, gasping as you felt his tongue lapping up the blood dripping from your jaw. You craned your head to the side, resting your chin on his shoulder to give him better access.

Your hands reached upward, curving around the nape of his neck as your fingers wound in his hair. With a quick tug, your lips were placed against his again, and you hummed as he savored the sweet copper taste in your mouth.

When you finally pulled back, his face matched yours, colored with red.

"Touch me," you asked quietly, pushing at his jacket as if you were going to pull it from his shoulders. It squeaked as your fingernails dug into the leather. "Please."

He did not hesitate to oblige you.

___

You both opted to take a stroll back to the cave after he did you the very gentleman-ly favor of disposing of the crime scene in the woods. (He'd insisted that your apologies for being messy were entirely unnecessary.)

The walk was slow since you savored the final moments of being in each other's exclusive company by letting him clean up the remaining blood on your skin whenever he found a new spot.

It also didn't help that your limbs all felt heavy and relaxed like Jell-O due to your overeating.

If the boys held any of your actions against you, they didn't show it when you returned with Dwayne.

Rather, their heads all snapped to attention when they caught the scent of you, and they knew in an instant what you'd done.

Paul and Marko whooped and hollered in delight at the sight of you topless and drenched. You ought to have charged them for the show.

"Yeah, hot stuff!" Paul shot over like a bat out of Hell, grabbing your hand and twirling you around. "That's how you do it!"

Marko applauded from his spot on the couch, whistling as he said, "Nice goin', pretty girl. We can add you to the bracket, finally."

"Well," You pulled your hair down from the elastic holding half of it up. "If you guys had told me it'd be like that, maybe I woulda done it sooner."

"Dibs on taking her out next!" Paul called out, squeezing you tight in a hug that sent the air out of your lungs in a huff.

Your laugh at their antics finally felt unburdened, the sound earned and free as it escaped your lips.

The noise in the room dulled in your ears when you approached David. His cold frustration had been replaced with satisfaction.

Solemn and contrite after your outburst on the boardwalk, you stopped before him.

Without a word, he let a grin creep onto his face as he reached out, hand slipping around your waist to guide you down onto his knee.

"You're not mad?" You asked meekly.

He shook his head, pressing a kiss to your hairline as his arms wrapped around you. "Not tonight."

a/n: (tldr: i know i'm crazy. hope you enjoyed! please send more requests cause i need to keep writing stuff! i'll write pretty much anything that's not in depth nsfw, so... )

i opened the terrarium. the worms wanted 3k words. 😛

i know you didn't expect to see me back here, right? ☺️ sorry, i'm not fooling anyone. so, i saw this prompt and literally sprinted, nay flew to complete it. so, thank you anonymous user for the very compelling idea. loved writing it, so i hope you love reading it.

that being said, i am all out of requests to fulfill, so please send them! i'm open to any suggestions, and i'd love to hear from my audience of about... eleven people what you'd like to see. ask and ye shall receive, as always!

pov: me waiting for the right moment to post the fic i just finished even though i posted 2 within 24 hours of each other

𝒻ℯℯ𝓁 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒾 𝒻ℯℯ𝓁, 𝒽𝓊𝓇𝓉 𝓌𝒽ℯ𝓇ℯ 𝒾 𝒽𝓊𝓇𝓉

a/n: i recognize that posting so close together is slightly psychpathic. i do not care :-D

𝓼𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂: the anniversary of a loved one's death sends you spiraling and one of your partners is there to catch you and to wipe your tears away.

𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰: poly!lost boys x gn!reader (no use of y/n)

𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽: 1.9k

𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼: death of a family member, visceral grieving, brief mention of mc death (doesn't happen), swearing, slight relationship conflict, so much grieving angst (that's the whole thing)

"I see a line of cars and they're all painted bla-ack."

Mick Jagger's voice echoed into the main cavern from a distant somewhere in the cave, near the roost where you'd been all night.

Paul pushed himself up from his seat on the couch, jumping up to pace the edge of the fountain. "Okay, listen, I like the Stones as much as the next guy, but not the same song forty fuckin' times."

"Forty-seven." Marko chimed in.

David didn't bother to look up from his book, the command clear even in his dry tone. "Leave them be."

"It's been three hours." Paul dragged his hands down his face. "Can't you just ask 'em to put on somethin' else?"

David snorted, kicking his legs over the arm of his well-loved wheelchair. "Yeah, sure. Then, I'll braid their hair, and we'll gab 'bout Morrissey."

He only smirked when Paul scoffed with indignation.

"You got a problem?" David fiddled with the strap on his glove. "You can deal with it."

"Today's hard for them." Dwayne called over his shoulder, smoking a fresh joint by the cave's entrance. "Cut 'em some slack."

"I've been cuttin' them slack. Now, my ears are about to bleed." Paul turned toward the direction of the blaring music. "How is it possible for me to hate this song?"

"Go tell 'em to cut it out." Marko shrugged from his spot on the floor, surrounded by a mess of buttons, patches, and chains. "It's our angel face. I'm sure they'll be nice about it. Understandin'."

His lies were punctuated by a shit-eating grin that had David letting out a bark of laughter, but Paul seemed to ignore the obvious lying, anyhow.

"Y'know what? It's me. They love me." Paul nodded to himself, walking deeper into the cavern towards the roost.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Marko looked at his other two partners. "What's the over-under on him getting his ass handed to him?"

Dwayne called back, "They're not an animal."

"A minute and a half." David answered with no hesitation.

"I give him one," Marko snickered.

Paul returned two minutes after he'd left, stepping slowly back into the cavern with a look of surprised defeat.

Marko chuckled as the familiar sitar notes signaled a new playthrough of your song. "Didn't do well, I take it?"

"They threw a hairbrush." Paul's hand rose to pointed to his unharmed orbital bone. "At my face."

David just snorted, "Don't say I didn't warn you. And, you" he glanced at Marko, "owe me."

Dwayne stood, stubbing out the barely cindering roach of his joint. "I'll go talk to 'em."

Paul raised two fingers for a half-hearted salute, "Godspeed, brave soldier."

"Don't be nervous." Marko called at Dwayne's retreating back. "They can smell fear."

They ought to have given him more credit. He lasted four minutes.

David could only sigh. It seemed as though Paul's problem would have to be his problem. ___

Your spot in the roost was, first of all, barely a roost.

One of the few things that remained of your humanity, your fear of falling, hadn't been kicked quite yet. So, when you realized that you couldn't bring yourself to sleep with the boys, you improvised.

A curtain rod, stuck between the rock and rubble, was just high enough for you to hang comfortably. It was the shortest fall to the floor, at least. And, that was where David found you, upended and eyes half-lidded with your stereo right next to your ear.

You mumbled. "Please, don't talk."

His voice reverberated in your mind, eyes unblinking as they stared into yours. That's fine. I won't talk.

"Not what I meant," you grumbled, eyes peeling open as you got down from the roost to sit on the ground.

He stared at you, and you stared back. The silence filled the gap about as well as a chasm.

"I didn't mean to be mean to Paul and Dwayne," you said, looking down at your hands as you picked at your fingernails. Sitting under his gaze made you feel like you were in the principal's office. "Paul just wouldn't stop talking, and Dwayne tried to turn off the radio."

Radio's annoying, David conceded. But, I'm not here to scold you.

"Why don't you just go, then?" You furrowed your brows, shrinking into yourself.

He moved close and sat down next to you, shoulder barely touching yours as he rested his elbows on his knees. You shouldn't be alone, as much as you want to be, he answered.

You glanced upward, seeing his eyes still locked on your face. "I didn't say I wanted to talk."

Didn't come for that, either.

"What do you want then, David?" You asked, exasperation masking the emotions under the surface. The ones behind the floodgate. "Because I'd rather you just leave me alone, if you're gonna be this way."

Let me in. It wasn't a command, even if it was phrased like one. That was easy to sense. It was an offer as much as it was a request. You don't have to hide from me.

Something bobbed at the back of your throat. "You don't want to see."

There's nothing in there that would frighten me. Nothing that would make me angry at you.

You watched as his face, sharp and unmoving, softened. "Nothing you don't already know, either," you answered back softly. "Are you sure?"

Always.

Before his mind closed in around yours, you were already moving toward him, shifting over to curl up in his lap.

His arm wound around your shoulder and the other cupped your face as your cheek rested against his chest.

Cold, pale, clammy skin. A counting of ribs. The flatline screaming in your ear. "Please, I can't see…" Your brother's hand clasping yours and slowly loosening. Screaming as your heart rips in two.

He retreated and you were sobbing before your mind was your own again.

"He-" You were interrupted by the sob that tore through you. "I still hear him, in my dreams. I-If I had gotten there sooner. If I had known-"

"Shh." He abandoned his hold on your thoughts, steeled against his own emotions while he helped you with yours. "He didn't want you to know. There was nothing you could've done."

You trembled, threading your fingers into his coat. "How can you know that? You can't."

To that, he was silent.

"A-and I get to go on living forever. That's really the worst part of it all." Your free hand worked fruitlessly to wipe the tears from your eyes. "I can't even die. I'll never see him again if I don't-"

"Stop," he interrupted, his grip on you tightening. "Don't say that. Don't think it."

You did as he asked, quiet as you shook against him. "I'm sorry-"

"No, I'm sorry." He sighed, resting his chin atop your head as his eyes fluttered shut. "You don't have to apologize, angel. It's just… that's not something I enjoy thinking about."

Your stomach churned at the idea. An eternity with your loves abruptly ended. The thought was more horrifying than sad.

"I… You know I love you." Mumbling it was easier than saying the obvious truth with your whole chest. "And the others."

"I do."

"I just miss him so much."

"I know, angel." His thumb brushed against your cheek, wiping a stray tear away. He might've already known the answer, but he decided to ask anyway. "What was he like?"

"He was funny. He played the guitar really well. I didn't really see him for his last two years, but his boyfriend told me that he volunteered at the Y after he moved to New York. He was… the best." You replied without hesitation. "You would've liked him." A thought crossed your mind that made a laugh spill out. "He'd have hated you."

David scoffed, the sound more amused than anything else, "Is that so?"

"He didn't like people being overbearing," you clarified. "Or the idea of me doing, uh, anything. Anyone." You added the last bit under your breath.

David hummed appreciatively, nodding in agreement with the sentiment. "He'd be glad to know you loved him so much."

"I did."

A beat passed and you wound your arms around his neck, pulling him in close. You breathed in his scent, smoke and leather and sea salt. It made your body relax.

"Thank you for asking about him." You murmured against his throat, pressing a kiss under his ear. A sense of satisfaction bloomed in your chest when he shivered at your touch.

"You don't have to thank me." He answered, fingers grazing the nape of your neck. "What you should do…" You pulled back and looked at him, waiting. "… is apologize to Paul."

You bit the inside of your cheek and nodded, averting your eyes as you reached across to turn your radio off.

"Then tell me exactly what it looked like when you nailed him in the face."

The loud laugh bubbled out of you, unrestrained, due to the sheer surprise at David making a joke. Hell must've been in the middle of freezing over.

"I'm serious. I'm jealous I didn't do it myself."

"I heard that!"

___

You did end up apologizing to Paul at the end of the night. Thoroughly. Many times. (He kept asking you to kiss his eye better, what else were you supposed to do?)

At David's suggestion, you dug out the photo album you'd had saved before you and your brother ran away from your old life.

After the required burning of your parents' photos, which was quite the delight, you flipped through the pages and showed them everything, surrounded by them as you sat on the floor.

"Aw, such a charmer." Marko pointed at a photo of you as a toddler, stood next to your brother who was wearing his brand-new kindergarten backpack. "A dollface since the very beginning."

"I have yogurt on my face." You scoffed, taking the picture out of the album's sleeve.

"Still charming."

"Damn, you were a looker." Paul leaned over you from his spot on the couch and plucked a photo of teenaged you from the album. Your quick shout of protest had him adding, "Still are!"

As you flipped the pages, you came across a photo from your brother's high school graduation. You'd thrown your arms around him from the picture, actions speaking more for your emotions than your expression, which was as neutral as his.

Time had stolen the smile from him, but his face was still round with childhood. You were lucky enough that your lovers had brought your smile back to you.

Your fingernail traced the line of his shoulder. "I wish he could be here."

"He is here." Dwayne spoke, his hand winding over your shoulder to rest atop your heart. "He'll always be there."

The sudden wash of feeling that came over you had you wanting to run from the tidal wave, and you felt your heartbeat quicken in the moment as the instinct made you lurch forward.

This time, though, you let yourself feel. There wasn't a safer place to feel earth-shattering grief than with your partners. Your devoted, frustrating, wonderful partners.

Sunrise came hours later, but not before you were gathered up by your boys and showered with more affection than you could take in at once. Your broken heart felt full, pieces picked up and stitched back together by their love.

a/n: (tldr- i hope you enjoyed, don't expect daily posts, please keep sending requests and commenting your thoughts!)

so, did i have a slight freakout when i got my first request? ...nooo, of course not, what? i totally didn't screech into my empty apartment... for about ten seconds. eh, i digress. i do hope you enjoyed and my writing lived up to your request. writing is what helps me process the difficult emotions that i'm feeling personally, and with the anniversary of my grandmother's death coming up, this was very cathartic. so, thank you for the request!

it's semi-crazy of me to respond to a request in less than 24 hours, but hey i'm crazy. i also had a little drabble of this already kinda written, so thankfully it didn't take super long! (seriously, i wouldn't expect daily posts, but i might just post the next request i got tomorrow because i've kinda been working on them both all day 😬 )

as i've said, requests are open, so please keep sending them!

𝓼𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂: after a heated argument with the boys, you leave to stew in your own self-pity, but one of your partners refuses to let sleeping dogs lie.

𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰: poly!lost boys x gn!reader (no use of y/n)

𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽: 1.7k

𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼: relationship conflict(s), smoking, swearing, slightly toxic relationship (it's the lost boys y'all know what's up)

The pillow hugged against your chest didn't fill the empty space in your arms quite as well as the boys, but it'd have to do. At least it was cold like them.

The argument had been frivolous. A dead horse that continued to rise from the grave just to be beat.

Someone commented on how frequently you'd been disappearing. How many nights recently they'd spent without your company.

You'd answered back with a very tasteful and not-at-all snarky joke about how well they'd do as prison guards and a warden.

They hadn't liked that, and they made that especially clear with their overlapping shouts of protest.

The argument, eventually, metastasized into you storming off and declaring that you needed space.

And, they gave you space. Well, three of them did, for an entire night.

During your appropriately dramatic exit from the main cavern, you skulked away to one of the many small offshoots of the cave. Empty spaces carved into the rocks by what remained of the sunken hotel you called home.

You'd claimed it as your own private area when you were turned. No one else had bothered to clear out the dust and debris.

Your mysterious ways had worked wonders on the space, filling it with knicknacks and trinkets to your heart's content until the room was shiny and bright with color. (The boys were still unsure how you'd gotten a mattress inside the small entrance.)

Sleep was unable to find purchase in your busy brain, and you stared up at the mobile above your face, sea-glass glittering and brass keys clinking as it twirled from its strung-up position on the ceiling.

You weren't sure how long you'd been awake, staring. It was long enough that your eyes began to ache from the effort of keeping them open, crying out for you to just bite the bullet and sleep.

Something pulled at your mind, though, causing thoughts to race like a river crashing against a dam. It was exhausting, the desire to not let them win.

Well, there really wasn't any winning to be done, seeing as everyone was already hot and bothered and stuck in their ways like sticks in mud. You cursed the parts of their souls, however small, that were grumpy, geriatric men.

Your body began to win the fight against your mind, pulling your eyelids down as a hellish limbo, something like sleep, started to wash over you.

It was very abruptly interrupted.

"Good." His voice, which was unusually chipper, gave away his position in the doorway. Unfortunately, you couldn't be sure how long he'd been standing there. "You're still up."

"I wasn't about to be." You didn't bother to roll over onto your side and look at him. "Fuck off. Get back to your brooding, or whatever it is you do when you decide to be mad that I'm mad."

The mattress dipped down beside you, and David kicked off his boots as he stretched out. The thud echoed off the rocks.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm not angry." His coat rustled as he pulled his arms out and draped it over your nightstand.

"Is that right? Well, I am." You turned over to face away from him. "Saying that you're not isn't going to make me any less mad."

"I just came to remind you of something you say all the time. Something about going to bed."

You heard the sound of his lighter clicking to life. "You listen and remember the things I say? How sweet."

A sharp pinch to your side had you swatting behind you, hand finding no purchase.

"There's no need for the hostility." He took a long drag from the freshly-lit cigarette. You smelled the smoke as it was blown in your direction.

You racked your brain for all the bedtime-related advice swirling around, of which there was a fair amount.

When you came up empty, you decided to take the bait anyway, against your better judgment, "What thing?"

"The thing," he repeated, as if his change in tone clarified everything perfectly. "I'm going to bed, and I'm not angry. You oughta be taking your own advice."

Don't go to bed angry. You did say that. Often, as a matter of fact, to Paul and Marko.

Hundreds of years of constant company from the same people could get… grating. The fights weren't at all frequent, but they could get vicious, at times.

You spouted the platitude at the two many times, when they both went off to sulk.

It sounded less appealing coming from David, who was staring back at you like he wasn't the King of Holding Grudges.

You pressed your face into the pillow under your head. "If that's how literally you're taking that, what I oughta do is stop playing 'Silver Springs' so loudly. You take those lyrics too literally, too."

"You play it a lot. Sound carries." He shrugged, cigarette resting between his lips. "You sound good singing when you're not screaming it."

You almost thanked him for the compliment, the reflex held back by biting your tongue. If he was trying to divert your attention, he was getting too damn close to succeeding.

Your jaw clenched, and you had to steel your nerves for your next words. "I don't want to have it out right now. I'm not forgiving anyone. I don't want to explain myself or try and defend myself like I'm in the wrong. And… and, I don't want to look at your stupid face."

You thought that you'd sounded serious enough to get him to drop it. You'd forgotten that, while he easily held grudges, he was also infinitely more patient than you'd ever be.

"Then, it's a good thing we're about to sleep. Don't have to look at anything." He stubbed out the cigarette.

You shot up to a sitting position, hands fisting in the sheets as you tried to hold back another explosion of rage.

"You think that waltzing in here and trying to call me out and whatever other bullshit you've conjured up is going to make me forgive you? When you haven't even said sorry? Y'know, David, I'm getting sick and tired of-"

The crash of his lips against yours silenced you, cutting off the sentence that he could've guessed the ending of.

He winded his hand against the curve of your neck, and you could feel your resolve slipping as his fingers tugged against the hairs at the nape of your neck. The way he knew you liked.

The sharp points of his fangs grazed your bottom lip, sending goosebumps prickling down your back. Your traitorous hand sought out his shoulder, trailing down to feel the muscle of his arm while your chest grew heavy with something. Not guilt, but not far from it, either.

When he finally released you, you looked only slightly less mad than before. "That's not saying sorry."

His hand didn't move. If anything, it pressed deeper into your skin.

"I can't apologize for telling you what I thought you needed to hear. What I think is right." He was as stoic as he always was, but you swore you could see tenderness lurking behind his eyes. "But, I can make sure that you rest easier."

"Rest easier? I guess I just can't possibly stay mad at perfect you." You scoffed, cheeks flushing red, but you weren't certain that it was with anger, "Telling me to take my own advice, and thinking you can just kiss it better is such crap. I'm frankly offended that you think I'm that easily convinced-."

"Shut up."

Instead of pulling you in for another searing kiss, he tugged you into his arms, and it was so unexpected that you didn't resist.

You couldn't remember the last time that it was him who pulled you close. Him who reached out first.

His hand traced a scar on your ribcage, hidden from sight by your shirt. (Well, Dwayne's shirt, if you cared about semantics.)

The night you were turned, he'd touched it just as gingerly as he did now, whispering in your ear and promising that nothing would ever hurt you again.

He would never admit it. Not with words. But, you knew him like you knew yourself. Knew his very few tells.

What was the most unbelievable was that he so deeply loathed when you were angry at him. Maybe even more than you loathed him being angry.

If you weren't certain that he was genuinely bothered by your argument, you would've thought it was purposefully manipulative. After all, manipulation was practically his second language.

He knew, all too well, that you spoke it too. He also knew better than to try it.

 "I know you're struggling," he said, sending vibrations with the rumble of his voice against your cheek where it rested on his chest. "But, we can talk about it tomorrow. Like civilized people. We'll always talk about it."

His words were honeyed. Not exactly what you'd wanted to hear, but close enough that you felt the walls around you beginning to crumble.

"Do you even understand why I'm upset?" Your words came out as a murmur, like your subconscious feared what he would possibly say in reply.

"No." He admitted. "Doesn't mean I don't want to make it better, though."

As you breathe out a sigh through your nose, you let your arms curl around him. "You promise?"

He chuckled briefly, and you could practically see the slight smile, even if you weren't looking at him.

He put his hand under your knee, pulling it to rest over his thigh, and used the other to press you closer by the small of your back.

The breath he let out was contented, and that was somehow better than any words or kisses he could've given you.

He finally answered with a quiet, "I promise, angel."

You both settled into silence for a few moments.

"Warden's gotta keep an eye on the prisoner."

He had to punctuate his victory in some way. To stroke his ego, if nothing else.

That time he caught your wrist before you could hit him in the face.

It wasn't an end to the argument. Hell, it wasn't even the apology you'd wanted. But, somehow, you felt the dark bundle weighing on your chest lift anyway. And, you fell asleep perfectly content for the current moment, boiling anger cooled to a slight simmer and tucked safely in his arms.

a/n: so, this is my first ever one-shot that i didn't public anonymously... be nice to me please. also, requests are open, if there's something you'd like in my writing style! ask and ye shall receive.