Author's Note: My muse has been dreadfully absent, for basically anything and everything I've attempted to write. However, this little something popped up in my mind, and I thought I might give it a go. See how you all like it. It's a bit different, and yet entirely the same to what we know and love. So give it a try!
Pairing: Lost Boys/OC
-Face Claim: Katherine McNamara
Rating: Fiction M/Mature- for language, adult themes/situations, fighting/violence/gore, character death, supernatural situations/creatures, some graphic material/content, alcohol/drug usage, smut!
*Warning!: This story will feature a Sister!OC, kind of cliche, I know. I'm hoping it will be interesting, nonetheless. There will be scenes from the movie, but there will also be scenes that have nothing to do with canon. Also, for this story, Laddie will not be featured in canon timeline. (Perhaps later?) There will be some Star bashing, and some Michael bashing to a lesser degree.
Feel free to favorite, follow, review, and promote the story/fandom! I appreciate and love story feedback and suggestions, along with constructive criticism, but please keep any story flaming/hating and bullying to yourself. There are thousands of stories out there, if this one isn't for you, that's alright! :D
Disclaimer: I do NOT own The Lost Boys (Movies/Comics/Novel, etc.) or its characters. It belongs to the wonderful authors, creators, directors, producers, and whoever else had a hand in its development! I also do NOT own anything trademarked/copyrighted, etc., material that may be mentioned here. I only own my OC('s) and my personal plot bunnies! Thanks for reading, and enjoy!
"Good blood, always shows itself."
Danish Proverb
It hadn't changed much, in the thirty years they had been gone.
The flashing lights of the multiple rides still illuminated the night sky, reflecting off the rippling ocean surface, blue waters turned murky and mysterious in the wake of sunset. People still roamed about, their styles a mixture of both old and new, some trends frighteningly familiar and some that he still couldn't even begin to comprehend, despite his children's attempted guidance to the modern world. Some shops had been added, an entire new section of both rides and boutiques to visit, a string of restaurants and a new nightclub. The sounds and smells were all but identical; a mixture of salty ocean air, beachy perfumes, oil and gas from the overflowing carpark, and rich, yet greasy, scent of carnival foods fried up in abundance. There was a dull roar of conversation in the background, preceded by the screams of those that found themselves dropped from the air fifty feet on the roller coasters and tilt-o-whirl's, the squeals of more than one girl being frightened by a cackling boy in their group, laughter of all tones and types. Throwback music from the eighties echoed on the open air, drifting from the concert stage that had been remodeled a few years prior, yet remained in the same place, centered among the other attractions.
Overall, the Santa Carla Boardwalk was much the same, and Michael Emerson found that it left his nerves both frayed and edgy.
Logically, he knew there was no reason for the churning feeling in his gut. The vampires were long dead, buried deep into the ground of the cave from whence they came, all grouped together in one mass grave bordered by the dilapidated fountain. The entrance had been boarded up and fenced off; spray painted with multiple warnings that denied access to the alluring depths below.
He ignored the twinge of pain in his heart that accompanied the memory.
Still, instinct was telling him to gather his family and run. To drive throughout the night, until no less than a thousand miles lay between those he loved and the place he once knew. His mother had waved him off, happy to return to the place she had grown up, and his wife had sent him a strained smile, understanding the predicament but unable to give it much thought as she set about making the dusty ranch house livable once more. The teenage members of their family were all too excited for the possibility of a carefree summer at the beach, and the thrill of a thriving boardwalk only made it that much better.
Before he could contemplate his limited options, the most prevalent one being he could just suck it up and manage the four months they planned to spend in the steadily growing town, the rush of noise reverberated through the sedan and he whipped around to find that his daughter was already standing upon the sidewalk, his son shuffling quickly after her.
"Hey, hey-!" Michael called out over the thrum of bass and screeching crowd. "Wait a minute-"
The words were ignored, the door already slamming closed. Letting out a groan, he threw the car in park, popping his door open before they could get too far. His hand closed over his son's shoulder, gently turning the eighteen year-old to face him, just catching as the brunette allowed his eyes to roll skyward.
His teeth gritted against each other, he reminded himself that they simply didn't know.
"You will stay together," He instructed, a thread of steel strengthening his tone as his eyes darted between the two of them. "You will not leave the boardwalk, with anyone, under any circumstances. If you need me, you call me. And whatever you do-"
Blowing a sigh through her nose, his daughter finished his sentence, her tone mocking as she cocked a hip. "Don't talk to strangers. Jesus Dad, we're over twelve years old, I think we can handle ourselves."
Michael's lips pressed together in a thin smile as he nodded once, patting his son's shoulder while he pressed a kiss to his daughter's forehead, much to her embarrassment. "I'll see you both at midnight."
"Dad-!"
"Midnight," He repeated, calling back over his shoulder as he stepped off the curb. "And not a minute later!"
Both teenagers grumbled curses beneath their breath, trudging toward the Boardwalk's entrance gates, neon wristbands already on display. He turned back with a grin to watch them disappear into the crowd, his hand clamped down over the roof of the car, where the door arched.
The fond expression froze in place, twisting his features into a pained grimace as hauntingly familiar laughter teased his senses, lifting upon the ocean breeze that swept his way off the water. The giggles were airy, but higher pitched, obviously feminine in nature. And the words that followed made the very blood rushing through his veins freeze, the breath in his lungs escaping in a choking huff of air.
"Oh, c'mon Rockstar! I want to dance!"
Words that he had heard before, uttered with the same adoration, sickeningly sweet in his opinion. Suddenly, the open air of the Boardwalk was stifling, pressing in on him from every side. His chest ached fiercely, the thudding beat of his heart threatening to break through the ribs that protected it, and beat right out of his body. His pulse roared in his ears as adrenaline flooded his system, and he whipped around without a moment's pause, faded blue eyes searching the mass of strangers frantically.
He only just caught a flash of brown and auburn locks flying out to the side as a feminine body twirled into the crowd, her partner nearly a foot taller than her, leather jacket covered back and blonde bun in place.
The two disappeared through the gates and less than a second later, Michael abandoned the car with very little care, slamming the door and ignoring the agitated honking of the car he had managed to block in. He jumped the concrete curb, pushing and shoving through the crowd of those migrating to and from the Boardwalk. More than once he found himself being cursed, or actually called out, but their frustrated words fell on deaf ears as he chased after windblown tresses and shining black leather, like two specters drifting on the Californian breeze. They were always just out of reach, and his heart beat ever faster, nearly rattling the bones in his chest as he gasped desperately for air, his days of sprinting long since passed. It had been years but suddenly it was as if he had been thrown back in time, running along the sun-bleached planks of the Boardwalk, his movements nearly frenzied.
"Dad?"
He spun on his heel, unseeing as his gaze swung from left to right, searching all those around them for the couple he had chased after. It didn't occur to him that if they were there, three more would be lurking in wait. He didn't know when the lump had clogged his throat, making swallowing nearly impossible as a surge of nausea made his hands tremble, his eyes prick with tears unbidden.
"Put me down, Cowboy!"
"Dad-!"
Pounding footsteps vibrated through the wooden slats beneath his knees, when he had fallen to them, he didn't know. Trembling fingers gripped harshly at primly trimmed brown curls, the film of moisture in his eyes spilling over the lids. Warm hands grabbed at his shoulders, beseeching him to respond as his name was called over and over again. Vaguely, he could hear his daughter's voice chattering into her phone, panicked and nearly shrieking. Passerby slowed and paused, the sight of a grown man on his knees with grief stricken features one that reminded Santa Carla elders of the past, a time that they hadn't experienced for nearly thirty years.
"Dad, what's wrong?! Please just-"
He could've sworn, could have pledged on everything he loved...she was there.
Legends
Information/Warnings
Pairing: This will feature the OC with all four boys, though their relationships might differ in the degree of attachment. I haven't entirely decided as of yet. The baseline, however, is that she will be Coven/Pack and therefore, she'll have certain relationships with each of the boys.
Trigger Warnings: There will be absolutely NO rape/sexual assault featured in this story. However, there will be some possible blood play in the future (they are vampires, after all), and other possible kinks. I'll make sure to make note at the beginning of a chapter, just in case.
No Beta! All mistakes are mine, and I'm sorry for them! :D