#( they don't want anyone eating their neat little friends that kinda look like themselves )

[leechaos]

Chaos is watching the discussion and feast of insects and the like // PROCEEDS TO LIGHTLY PUSH THE JAR OF EARTH LEECHES BEHIND BACK (THEY DON’T WANT ANYONE EATING THEIR LITTLE COLLECTION).

[one-boring-person]

Only Traitors Consort With The Damned. (Part Three)

The Lost Boys x reader

Warnings: none

Context: The senior officer (Y/n) is expecting arrives.

A/N: Im not really sure where this story is going, but anyhow. I'm sorry, there really isn't that much mention of the boys in this, but I guess this can kinda count as a filler chapter?

Masterlist.

My hands are shaking as I check my watch yet again, biting my lip nervously as I shift in place, my coat drawn tightly around me to fight off the cool night air, the rest of my clothes as smart as possible, to make a good impression. In my left hand, I hold the creased envelope, the edges torn and dog-eared from being handled so much, the letter inside stained slightly from where I picked it up with my hands covered in gore, the contents nearly branded into my memory by now. A senior officer is to meet me at the Santa Carla train station at eight o'clock exactly, should the train be on time for once. Since I received this information two days ago, I have not stopped fidgeting and worrying with myself, my nails bitten down to the bed, the skin painful and red, my nerves running rampant within me, resulting in a thorough tidy-up of the shed and many unforseen training fights with the hand-made dummy behind it, my knuckles as sore as if I've been in a real fight.

Even now, I can feel the bruising under my gloves smart with every movement, my fingers flexing instinctually as I watch the thinning stream of people emerging from the station doors, eyes hoping to catch sight of the officer soon, knowing the uniform will be the tell tale giveaway. My own uniform is neat and tidy for once, as the rules of the SRS state, my long overcoat concealing the weapons I'm obligated to carry around with me: a gun loaded with wooden bullets, three vials of holy water, a stake and a silver knife. Legally, I'm allowed to carry these weapons in full view, being a Hunter for the SRS and all, but most of us choose not to, seeing as the civilians tend to find the sight of them pretty unnerving, but there are some, more arrogant ones, who choose to flaunt their status for the whole world to see, making them easy targets for almost any supernatural being. A wry grimace makes it's way onto my face as I recall the time when my first drill sergeant as a Cadet stalked into a werewolf pack with all of his silver weaponry out on show, instantly resulting in an all out brawl, which only some of us survived. The sergeant was the first to die.

"(Y/n)! It's been too long!" A horribly familiar voice snaps me from my thoughts, my eyes swiftly locating the tall figure walking over to me. Elijah Finch, the lanky, dark haired man I went to Hunting School with, wearing the neatly pressed black jacket of a senior officer, the rank badges sewn onto his chest showing that he has also reached a very high number of kills, as well as a completely new status.

"It's good to see you, sir." I address him with the correct formality, a tight smile forcing it's way onto my lips, my posture straightening as I salute him. For a brief second, I see a faint glimmer of pride flash through the crystal depths of his eyes at the title.

"Ah, don't call me that, (Y/n). We're friends, and that's not how friends talk to each other." He grins as he steps over to me, dropping his holdall momentarily in order to sweep me up into a tight embrace.

Relaxing into him, I return the hug, inhaling the familiar smell of his cologne as he crushes me into his chest, clearly happier to see me than I am him.

"If you say so, Elijah." I respond in his ear, pulling away after a minute, smiling at his broad grin, taking note of the new scar on his right cheek, the pale line splitting his sharp cheekbone in two, "The hell happened to your face?"

"Oh this? Nothing too bad, just had a bad encounter with a possessed child." Elijah smirks, picking up his bag again and slinging it onto his back, refusing my offer to help him out.

"A child gave you that?" I lift an eyebrow at him, finding this amusing.

"A possessed child." He corrects me, falling into step beside me as I lead him away from the train station, aiming to get to the main road, where we can pick up some decent food without coming across David and the boys.

"Sure." I chuckle, rolling my eyes, "You hungry?"

"I could eat. Anywhere good in town?"

"Eh, I guess. Most of them are takeaways, but there's a pretty decent diner just off the main road." I inform him, sticking my hands into my pockets as we walk, hunching my shoulders a little as the cool wind blows around us, chilling me to the bone.

"Lets go there, then. I'll pay." The tall Hunter says decisively, giving me a pointed look when I glance at him queationingly.

"Sure, if you don't mind." I frown slightly at this, fumbling with the notes in my pockets a little out of protest, "When did you become a senior?"

"A month back, I think. Yeah, it was around the beginning of September or so." He replies, clearly looking as if he wants to go on, something which I am only too happy to allow.

"Oh yeah? What was the mission?" I inquire, referring to the SRS concept that a Hunter is promoted to Senior only after completing a particularly difficult hunt.

"Oh, it wasn't too difficult. There was a coven of vampires trying to take over the French Quarter, back home in New Orleans, and had started a fight with the witches that already lived there. I had to go in with a squad of Hunters and eliminate the bloodsuckers, before everything got out of hand. I managed it, and didn't lose a single member of the squad." He goes on to explain, sounding impossibly proud of himself as always, his tone laced with self-confidence.

"Congrats, it sounds like it was well deserved." I congratulate him, stopping outside the diner I usually stay out of, preferring to go to the one on the Boardwalk, my jaw clenching as I see that it is closed for the night.

"Damn that sucks. Is there another one nearby?" Elijah asks, blue eyes looking the structure up and down, hand adjusting on the straps of his bag.

"Err, yeah. There's one just over there." I inform him, pointing at the entrance to the Boardwalk, which lies a good 25 metres away down the road.

"Lets hope that one isn't closed, too." He muses, allowing me to hesitantly lead the way again.

Quickly, we make our way onto the Boardwalk, where I then quickly locate the diner and direct Elijah over to it, hoping the boys aren't anywhere nearby. Thankfully, this one is open, meaning the two of us easily get a table, our uniforms giving us some sort of advantage over other customers, even though the insignia is not a particularly widely recognised one. Sitting at a window table, we take the time to look at the menu properly before deciding on something to order, doing so and relaxing back into our seats as we wait, both of us instinctively turning to look out the window, where I instantly spot the four people I didn't want to see tonight.

Across the pavement, David, Dwayne, Paul and Marko have pulled up on their motorcycles, the four of them drawing attention to themselves as always, something which makes me grit my teeth in annoyance, knowing that Elijah will easily spot them.

"They the resident biker gang?" The Hunter asks, gesturing to the boys with a curious expression.

Tensing almost indiscernibly, I try to suppress the rising fear inside me, nodding as I reply to him.

"It is. They like offering races to anyone who catches their eye." I explain to him, only revealing half of the truth behind them, eyeing the four vampires as they talk amongst themselves, David pulling a cigarette out of his pocket, followed by a lighter, his icy blue eyes suddenly locking with mine across the space. A smirk makes it's way onto his face as he sees me.

"They do, huh? I bet you could easily beat them on yours." Elijah muses out loud, looking me over with a critical eye.

"Yeah, well the only problem with that is that my bike is back in New Orleans, and has been for my entire time here." I remind him, recalling the black Triumph back in the garage at Headquarters, suddenly wishing I could ride it again, missing the exhilaration of the ride.

"That's too bad. I'm surprised, though, you and that bike were pretty much inseparable."

"It's the best vehicle I've ever driven." I shrug, returning my gaze to the four motorcycles outside, only to find their riders gone. Confusion fills me, eyes searching for them, until I hear an unmistakable voice behind me, my heart dropping in my chest.

"So this is where you got to, kitten. We were wondering where you were." David's smirk is practically audible in his tone, my jaw tightening as I turn to face him, only now registering what he called me, a deep blush blossoming on my cheeks.

"Hey David. I didn't realise you were looking for me." I smile cordially at him, trying to signal to him with my eyes for him to leave, before he's caught.

"We got worried." The platinum blonde affirms, eyeing Elijah, who watches the exchange in confusion, "Who's your friend?"

"This is Elijah. He's a close friend of mine. Elijah, this is David, Dwayne, Marko and Paul, some friends I've made here." I introduce them, trying not to reach over and slap their reaching hands away from each other, reminding myself that they boy have gloves onñ and so the difference in temperature shouldn't be too noticeable.

"Nice to meet you, Elijah." David greets, tone sounding forced and completely false.

"Nice to meet you, too." The tall Hunter smiles, shaking David's hand, eyes flicking over the others in turn.

David turns to me once again once he's finished shaking hands, blue eyes teasing.

"Let us know when you're next free, we'd love to spend more time together again." The vampire tells me, before he and the boys step out, Marko and Paul pushing and shoving each other on their way, nearly upsetting a few of the tables.

Once they've left, Elijah looks at me with an eyebrow raised.

"Friends?" Is all he says.

"What, are you implying that I can't make friends?" I tease, hoping not to have to go into too much detail.

"Of course not. They just seem pretty interesting characters." He shrugs, looking over as the waiter brings us our food, thanking him pleasantly before returning his gaze to me.

"They are, but they're a great cover-up story at times." I reason, tucking into my food.

"Ah, right. Makes sense. Anyway, you got any plans later?" He queries, casually, cutting up some of his own food as he does so.

"No, why?" I respond, confused.

"Because I am in the mood for some hunting."

Part Four