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theforgottenmcrmy · 2 years

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After All (Part 15/?)

Pairing: Riff X OC Jet Girl

Warnings: Explicit Language, Racism (NOTICE: offensive racial slur), Non-Explicit Reference to Sexual Assault, Violence, Mild Sexism

Summary: Genuine hope was something Riff hadn’t felt since he was a kid, when he was innocent and naive and didn’t know any better. Over the years, life and the world around him had sucked all the hope out of him and stomped on it before his very eyes. He came up in the West Side, after all.

Word Count: 12,600 ish

DISCLAIMER

Please note that this is a reimagining of the film West Side Story (2021) and as a result is slightly AU.

Masterlist /// Part 1 /// Part 14 /// Part 15 /// Part 16

A/N: Ahhhhh thank you so very much for the overwhelming amount of support for this story! And thank you for your generous patience as I took the additional time to get this chapter ready (and special shout out to @sallymakesstuff for helping me out!). I don’t think there’s a crazy amount of plot in this chapter, but I think it was necessary to lay the foundations of many of the character motivations from here on out. Again, I ask that everyone remembers two things: 1) almost everyone in this story views what is going on with rose colored glasses, and 2) depiction does not equal endorsement. Anyways, I hope you all have a good rest of the weekend, and I hope you all enjoy! :)

Part 15: Dissension Amongst the Ranks

The tension in the air was nearly suffocating as Riff entered the park with the rest of the Jets in tow.

Word of something happening to the wall had spread quickly, courtesy of Mouthpiece. Although only a few of the Jets had been in the auto shop at the time Mouthpiece delivered the news, as the small group stormed over to the park to see what had happened for themselves, one by one the other Jets fell in line along the way. By the time Riff reached the park's entrance, the rest of the Jets were behind him, determined to see what had happened with their own eyes.

The group could see what had happened from all the way across the park, but that didn’t stop Riff from leading them all the way over to the wall.

Birds chirping and children playing nearby, both of which seemed entirely unfazed by the sudden appearance of the large group of young men, were the only sounds that could be heard as the gang took in the sight of the wall.

All the artwork and paintings that comprised the memory of gangs long before them and the contribution that each and everyone of them had made were gone. Decades of history had all been replaced by a white background, some Spanish words, and a large, Puerto Rican flag that spread across as least two thirds of the wall.

Riff felt all the eyes of the Jets upon him as he continued to stand before the wall and wordlessly take in the scene.

Unsurprisingly, Mouthpiece was the one to break the silence.

“Sharks?” he asked, his voice sounding much more timid and uncertain than usual.

That had been Riff’s gut feeling too.

But just out of the corner of Riff’s eye was an inconspicuous cone. It’s orange color contrasted starkly against the mostly white, red, and blue wall. On top of the cone was a sign that read, “WET PAINT”.

Unless the Sharks had recently gotten some access to city resources, their guilt in the crime was non-existent.

“Doesn’t matter who did it,” Ice stated coolly as he came to stand beside Riff. “It’s all gone now.”

To emphasize his fellow Jet’s point, Action slinked up beside Riff and Ice and gave the WET PAINT cone a solid kick. The orange object went flying and landed a yards away with a hollow thunk.

Riff was still trying to process the scene before him and form words as the rest of Jets began to converse amongst themselves.

“First Tony, now this?” A-Rab questioned dramatically.

“Hey, what ‘bout Tony?” Big Deal piped up.

“He’s been cut loose,” A-Rab informed the group. “Looks like Valentina’s got him slavin’ away at Doc’s.”

A bunch of “What?”s and other general exclamations of surprise erupted over the group as those who had known and did not know but had heard of Tony processed A-Rab’s announcement.

“Riff, I thought you said he was goin’ to ask us to come get him,” Snowboy said.

The group once again fell into disarray as they started questioning what had happened and proposed theories to one another.

Riff remained silent.

Action turned around to face him. “Riff,” he said, mindful to keep his voice low so as not to be overheard by the rest of the group, “What happened with Tony?”

Riff struggled to find words that would strike the balance between telling the truth and giving an answer that Action, let alone the rest of the Jets, would find satisfactory.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Ice interjected, also speaking quietly. “Tony didn’t tell him.”

Action looked to Riff for verbal confirmation, but the look on Riff’s face must have been enough of an indication that Ice’s statement was accurate.

“But that doesn’t make any sense,” Action replied with a frown.

Action looked as though he was beginning to run through all the possible explanations in his mind. Ice remained beside Riff and was looking at him with an expression that Riff wasn’t sure was of disappointment or pity.

As many thoughts bounced round Riff’s own head, there was one particular thought that seemed to be rebounding off the sides of his skull more than any other.

We can’t just keep standin’ here.

There was a lot of news and information to digest but the longer they stood there, in public and in broad daylight, the more of a scene they would continue to cause. And unless they had a plan to address any of the issues that had been presented to them that morning, standing around being flabbergasted would serve no purpose other than to make them look more foolish than they already felt.

Besides, God forbid that any Sharks happen to come across them standing there gaping at the wall, demanding answers, and bickering with each other over theories. They’d get some wild idea about dissension amongst the ranks.

“Let’s go,” Riff muttered. He turned on his heels and made his way back through the Jets. Though they stepped aside to let him through, none of them moved to follow.

“Riff? We can’t just leave!” A-Rab insisted.

“We can and we are,” Riff said smoothly.

“Seriously, boss?” Action scoffed. “You really just gonna let them get away with this?!”

Riff whirled back around and the Jets closest to him braced themselves as soon as they saw the enraged look on his face. They knew what was coming.

“Yes!” Riff shouted back at him, his anger finally reaching a boiling point. “It’s too late, the wall is gone. And in case you haven’t noticed, there ain’t nobody, no city officials and certainly no damn Sharks for miles around! Curse into the air if you want. Beat your bloody knuckles raw punching the damn wall, I don’t care. And if you don’t wanna do either of those things, then I’d suggest we all take a bit to cool the hell down and regroup. Let’s. Go.”

A stunned silence fell over the Jets as the majority of them stared at Riff with a look similar to children who had been scorned by a parent. For the second time, the only thing Riff could hear were birds chirping and children playing nearby.

Riff turned around for a final time and headed over to the exit. The Jets were quick to jump out of their stunned state and follow him, hot on his heels.

————————————————————————————

“I’ll have a Coke, please.”

Velma smiled at Roxie. The pair had met up in the same diner they’d frequented since the beginning of summer. Though they usually met for breakfast, this time it had been for lunch. The diner was a bit more crowded than either of them were used to, but neither minded.

“Big spender today, I see,” Velma commented with a smile. Roxie almost always ordered water.

Roxie shrugged sheepishly. “I’m in a good mood today, I suppose.”

Velma hummed as she pretended to look over the menu. They’d both been to the diner enough that Velma already knew what she wanted, but the action was more out of habit than anything else.

Roxie didn’t show the same interest in her menu. She was clearly distracted, and Velma had a pretty good hunch as to why.

Before Velma could decide how best to approach the subject, Roxie said, “Can you thank your father again for letting me stay over those few days last week? I really appreciate it.”

“Of course,” Velma replied easily.

In all truthfulness, her father didn’t mind too much at all. Velma had only ever brought a few of the Jet girls around to their apartment, but her father liked all of the ones she had. Velma used to have Roxie over a lot when they were both in school, so he was used to her. Over the years, her father had also met Graziella, Natalie, and Gussie. Velma had recently invited Karen over for dinner, and though she was quiet, her father seemed to like her as well.

Velma’s father had given her some grief over the years for choosing to be with Diesel, and perhaps rightfully so. But her father had also told her how reassured he was by the fact that so many of the Jets had some level-headed girls to help keep them all in check.

The waitress brought over their drinks and took their food orders. As soon as she was out of earshot, Velma continued, “So, is everything good now between you and Riff?”

Velma didn’t miss the smile that Roxie tried to hide behind her Coke as she took a sip of the drink. She set the glass down calmly and looked up at Velma after taking a moment to regain her composure. “Yes,” she answered simply. “Everything’s worked out.”

Velma stared at her for a few moments, silently urging her to continue.

“There is something else,” Roxie added. “We’re, uh… We’re sort of seeing each other again.”

That had been what Velma was expecting, but upon hearing Roxie actually verbalize it, she couldn’t help it as her eyebrows raised in mild shock.

Roxie looked at her curiously, and perhaps a bit nervously, waiting for her to say something, anything. When Velma remained silent, her expression shifted. “You already knew, didn’t you?”

Velma nodded and Roxie rolled her eyes, though a smile was still on her face. “Diesel told me he had his suspicions.”

This seemed to pique Roxie’s interest as her head tilted slightly. “Really? Why?”

“Diesel said something about Riff’s been sneaking back into the apartment whenever he’s been getting back at night, as if it isn’t his apartment to begin with.”

Technically the apartment was Riff’s uncle’s, but Velma knew Roxie would still get the point.

Roxie was smiling. Apparently the thought of Riff behaving in such a manner was amusing to her. “Yeah?”

Velma merely hummed in response as she took a sip of her coffee. Normally she wouldn’t have gotten something caffeinated at that time of day, but it had been a long week. “Diesel said something else too,” Velma continued, intentionally opting to use a casual tone, “He said Riff’s been getting in at night a lot later than usual… You know anything about that?”

Roxie cleared her throat. “Well, if he’s been getting back later, it doesn’t have anything to do with that… not yet, at least.” Roxie quickly took another sip of her Coke, but Velma noticed the slight blush rising on her cheeks.

“Roxie,” Velma admonished with a light laugh.

“No,” Roxie insisted, setting her glass back down on the table and sitting up straighter. “He’s been walking me home from work the past few nights, as I’m sure you’ve figured out. Maybe we’ve been walking slower, I don’t know. But we’ve just been talking.”

“About what?”

Roxie shrugged. “Anything. Everything.”

Velma watched Roxie get lost in thought for a few moments. On one hand, she was happy for Roxie, and on the other, there was someone else on her mind that she was concerned about. “That explains why no one has heard from Grazi since the dance last weekend.”

Velma had tried to reach Grazi a few days after the dance. Grazi hadn’t answered the phone, but Velma left a message with her mother. Grazi never returned Velma’s call and Velma hadn’t thought much about it until she received a call from Natalie and then Sorella asking her if she had heard from Grazi.

Roxie’s daydreaming gaze was immediately shattered and a look of guilt washed over her face. “Riff said she called things off between them.”

Velma wasn’t sure if Graziella was content with calling off her fling with Riff or whether she felt that her hand had been forced, but she knew that voicing that to Roxie would only deepen the guilty look on the other girl’s face and make her feel worse. Besides, Riff had just as much of a role to play in what had happened as Roxie had.

“Aren’t you concerned that you haven’t heard from her?” Roxie pried worriedly.

“I wouldn’t worry about Grazi,” Velma said reassuringly. “She’s tougher than either of us, I’d like to think. She’ll come back around when she’s ready. She may not be with Riff, or Tony, anymore, but she’s still one of us. We’re family.”

A comfortable silence fell over the pair as their waitress returned with their food.

“So,” Velma began as she poked at the food on her plate with her fork, “You ready to be the leading lady of the Jet girls?”

Roxie rolled her eyes and picked up her own fork to start digging into her meal. “Please, there’s no such thing. There never was.”

“Like hell there isn’t,” Velma quipped. She briefly paused to take a bite. “I’ve already had girls calling me and asking where Grazi is. Now that no one can get ahold of her, they're calling me and wanting answers.”

The leadership among the Jets was apparent but still informal. No one had ever needed to say that Riff, and once upon a time, Tony, was the leader of them. But Riff was, and Tony used to be, too. It was an unspoken but still known fact.

Leadership among their girls operated a little differently. The guys were in charge of the group in its entirety, which more often than not encompassed the girls. There was no doubt about that. But for matters that didn’t involve the guys, such as going to get dresses for upcoming dance, or on a more serious note, who would be in charge of keeping up morale and consoling the others while they all waited for the Jets to return from a rumble, a few of the girls had also stepped up and become unspoken leaders.

Back in the day, it was Roxie and Grazi, regardless of whether Roxie wanted to acknowledge or admit it. The two of them had been with Riff and Tony respectively and it only made sense. They had to put on a brave face to keep up appearances because of who their guys were. But more recently, the girls in charge had fluctuated a bit.

Rhonda, Action’s girlfriend of a few months, was feisty and a perfect match for him. No one dared to disrespect her and some of the younger girls even tended to fear her. As a result, a lot of the girls looked up to her.

Velma, as much as she felt uncomfortable by the thought, had also been someone that the girls started to turn to. She’d been going steady with Diesel for four, going on five years, and although Diesel did not necessarily have Ice or Action’s “ranking”, the longevity of their relationship seemed to give her some seniority among the group.

Up until the previous week, Grazi had been the one that all of them, even Rhonda and Velma, usually looked to for advice and support. Now that she was gone, at least for the imminent future, someone would have to fill her shoes.

“Even if such a thing exists, no one is going to look to me for advice about anything anyways,” Roxie said decisively. “Most of the girls now don’t even know me.”

Velma smiled. “I know the perfect way to solve that.”

“How?”

“Group date!” Velma enthused excitedly.

Roxie rolled her eyes playfully. “I thought I was seeing Riff, not the entire group.”

“You should’ve read the fine print,” Velma joked. “You should know better than anyone that when you get involved with one of the Jets, you get the whole family along with them. Listen, we can start with a smaller group. You’ve never met Rhonda or Karen, and I’d think you’d like them.”

“Rhonda and Karen being…?”

“With Action and Ice.“

An odd look flashed across Roxie’s face at Velma’s mention of the first Jet’s name. Velma wasn’t sure if Roxie had ever gotten over Action trying to insist she ratted out Riff almost two years ago, or if something else had happened between them more recently, but she was interested to know.

“Take some time to think about it,” Velma said when Roxie did not say anything further. “But you don’t have much of a choice when it comes to things like that if you’re with Riff. When you’re a Jet-“

“-you’re a Jet all the way,” Roxie finished, half jokingly and half grumbling as she took another sip of her drink.

Velma watched Roxie carefully for a few moments. “All things considered, I’m glad you are back with Riff,” she admitted. “You’ve got the power to do me and the rest of the girls a mighty favor.”

“Yeah?” Roxie asked. “What’s that?”

Velma glanced around to make sure no one was paying attention to their conversation. “This business with the Sharks… you know where it’s going, right?“

The sudden sharp look Roxie gave Velma confirmed that she knew. “It’s not going to get that far,” Roxie insisted firmly in a low voice.

“Well, if the subject of a rumble does come up, you know what to do,” Velma told her in a hushed voice.

The guys were all too trigger-happy about it. As soon as one of them even mumbled the word, the idea of a rumble spread amongst the rest of them like wildfire, and in no time everyone was on board. Most of the girls liked the excitement of a rumble, but many of them preferred missing out on some excitement in lieu of keeping their boyfriends uninjured and out of jail.

“The guys look to Riff for everything,” Velma added, “especially now, with Tony being gone.”

A queer look flashed across Roxie’s face. “That’s something else I wanted to talk to you about, Velma.”

“He’s back, isn’t he?” Velma guessed.

Roxie nodded slowly. “He’s staying with Valentina.”

Velma chuckled to herself humorlessly and took a sip of her coffee. She had thought she’d seen a familiar figure in Doc’s a few weeks back, but since she never went inside and only caught a glance through the window, she hadn’t given it any more thought. “Do the guys know?”

“Riff’s supposed to tell them today.”

“Why didn’t he come back to the Jets? Why keep it a secret?”

“He wants to do something else,” Roxie answered quietly, avoiding meeting Velma’s eyes as she poked at the food on her plate with a fork. “His parole officer gave him all these rules, but I think he also just wants to stay out of trouble.”

Velma’s eyes narrowed a bit as she pondered the information. Tony, the very same boy who had nearly beaten another boy to death with his bare hands, wanted to change his ways? Even if he wanted to change, how could he just turn his back on the Jets like that? They were family. If Roxie’s explanation was true, his time upstate must’ve cleared his head and then some.

Velma wasn’t quite sure what to make of the news about Tony, and she wasn’t likely to make any more sense of it thinking about it right then and there, but there was one other thing on her mind that she still wanted to convey.

“Regardless about Tony, you have Riff’s ear now, Roxie,” Velma reminded her solemnly. “If he brings up even the faintest suggestion of a rumble, kill it. And kill it quick.”

————————————————————————————

Ice leaned up against the wall of the auto shop and watched as a mild chaos descended upon most of the group.

Riff had led them right back to the shop after the scene at the park. After they all made it inside, Riff swiftly closed the garage door. It was clear that any walk-in business would not be welcomed for the day.

After closing the garage door, Riff silently walked up the stairs and entered the apartment above. Many of the Jets continued to talk amongst each other but the few who didn’t watched the closed apartment door silently.

A minute later, Riff exited the apartment with something in his hand. He descended down the stairs and swiftly exited the side door of the shop while mumbling something about needing some air.

A few hours had passed and Riff had yet to return.

Ice wasn’t sure how to feel about the discovery that Riff had been keeping information from him, let alone the rest of the Jets. The fact that Riff and Roxie were back together was harmless- plus, it wasn’t like it had much of an impact on Ice or the rest of the guys anyways.

But the fact that Riff had kept the news about Tony’s return a secret bothered him. Ice could tell Riff’s reaction to A-Rab’s announcement earlier that morning that he was already well aware that Tony was back. But if Ice’s assumption in the park that morning was correct, it was possible that Tony hadn’t actually told Riff when he was getting cut loose from prison. That seemed likely- Riff had too many guys staying with him lately. If Riff had known about when Tony was getting released, he would’ve gone upstate to meet him. There was no way Riff’s absence of a few hours if not most of the day would’ve gone unnoticed by the other guys.

And if that scenario was the case, Ice could understand why Riff, who must’ve discovered Tony’s presence in the neighborhood once again on his own somehow, would be reluctant to tell anyone.

What kind of angle was Tony trying to play, anyway? Ice was sure Riff would’ve offered Tony a place to stay and a job at the shop, if he wanted it. Why’d he choose to go to Valentina and work at Doc’s?

Not only was the situation with Tony an issue, but now there was the problem with the wall in the park. Sure, Ice was getting tired of all the fighting with the Sharks, but the painting of the wall- whoever it had been done by- felt personal. He didn’t think there was any possible way to address it that didn’t involve some fighting in one way or another.

“I don’t think it was the PRs,” Numbers said, bringing Ice’s attention back to the group, who were apparently still debating what had happened.

“Oh yeah, why not?” Tiger snapped.

“They ain’t that bold… not yet,” Numbers stated. “They see us by the wall all the time and they’ve never touched it before. So why now?”

“Yeah, who set ‘em off?” Balkan asked the group.

“It was probably yous!” Action accused, stepping up to the younger Jet. Action had quite the height advantage on Balkan, but to Balkan’s credit, he didn’t back down or flinch away. “You and Mouthpiece pulled that stint with the liquor store!”

“That was a few weeks ago!” Balkan argued, shouting right back in Action’s face.

“Maybe it was yous!” Mouthpiece interjected, coming to stand beside Balkan. Though he spoke quieter than the Jet beside him had, he looked just as angry. “You’re the one who got into it with Bernardo at the dance!”

Shouts started to fill the room as the other Jets began to argue and pick sides.

Since Riff was still gone and Action had taken it upon himself to become involved in the argument at hand, Ice decided it was time for him to step up. With a small sigh, he pushed himself up off the wall and took a few quick strides over to the gathered group a few yards away.

“Can it!” Ice ordered as he put one hand on Action’s shoulder and one hand on Mouthpiece’s shoulder in an effort to put some distance between the two.

Opposite of him, Numbers was trying to do the same with one hand on Action’s other shoulder and his other hand on one of Balkan’s.

Upon realizing the effort that the two were making to separate them, Action, Mouthpiece, and Balkan allowed themselves to be pushed a few feet away from one another, and the rest of the Jets surrounding took a step back to give them some room as well. Although the room went quiet, everyone still seemed tense and on edge.

After a few moments passed, Ice said cautiously, “It doesn’t matter who painted the wall. It’s done. It’s all gone.”

“He’s right,” Numbers agreed. “Besides, like I was sayin’, I don’t even think it was the Sharks. You’d see that official lookin’ sign? I think it was the City.”

“Why’s the City sidin’ with them?” A-Rab questioned. “We were born here! It’s our wall! Our history!”

“Guess they think they’re more cultural,” Diesel proposed darkly. “Rich folks love that sorta shit- they ain’t got none of it themselves.”

“Well, we were here first! What about us and our culture?” A-Rab demanded.

Various Jets piped up in agreement.

“And why do the rich folks matter anyways?” Big Deal added.

“To hell with this!” Action huffed. “If Riff ain’t gonna do somethin’ ‘bout it, I will!”

Action harshly shrugged off both Ice and Number’s hands off his shoulders and stormed away from the group and towards the garage’s side door.

“Action!” Ice called after him warningly.

Action threw the door open so forcefully that it smacked against the wall of the garage with a solid thud. Despite Ice’s shout, Action did not stop or turn around and disappeared through the door and out of view without a moment’s hesitation.

Ice sighed frustratedly and slowly turned around to face the group. They all looked way, way too tense for Ice’s liking.

“Don’t any of you get any ideas,” Ice cautioned them, noting that some of them glanced longingly at the door that Action had just left through. “We follow Riff’s lead. Let’s just hang out here and take some time to cool down. When Riff gets back, we can see what he wants to do.”

Not all of the guys seemed persuaded, but Ice chose to ignore them.

“No wonder Tony didn’t wanna come back with us,” A-Rab said under his breath, but it had been just loud enough for Ice and the nearby Jets to hear.

“You don’t know what happened with Tony,” Ice told A-Rab coolly. “Riff will talk to him.” Ice glanced at the side door of the garage one more time. “And he’ll take care of Action, too.”

————————————————————————————

“I’m thinkin’ ‘bout grabbin’ a sandwich,” Tony informed Valentina, referring to the deli down the street from Doc’s. “Want anything?”

Valentina shook her head and shut the cash register drawer as the customer she had been assisting accepted their change from her and began to walk away. “No, I am not hungry, but gracias. Just make sure you are back in time for the 2 o’clock delivery.”

Tony nodded as the bell on the front door rang, indicating that the customer was exiting the store. He quickly resumed tidying up the cans on the shelf he was in the process of stocking. As she suggested, Valentina would be a bit frustrated with him if he wasn’t present when the delivery truck arrived. Unloading all the goods by herself was not an option, so Tony wanted to head over to the deli sooner rather than later to make sure he’d be back in time.

“No, no. No eres bienvenido aquí,” Valentina called out a moment later. “Get out, I mean it.”

Curiously, Tony glanced over at the door and immediately spotted Riff. He looked like an odd mixture of angry and distracted, and he gripped something in his hand so hard that his knuckles were starting to turn a bit white. The customer Valentina had rung up walked through the door and passed him. He side-stepped swiftly and entered the shop once he was in the clear. Upon hearing Valentina, Riff lingered in the doorway for a moment until his eyes fell on Tony.

Riff started to walk over to him quickly, ignoring the continuous stream of warnings coming from Valentina as she remained behind the counter. Tony remained standing where he was and watched inquisitively as Riff approached him.

“I’ll just be a minute,” Riff said shortly to Valentina. However, he didn’t even glance at her, and his eyes remained locked with Tony’s as he spoke. “I just wanted to thank my ol’ pal here for findin’ my girl for me last week.”

Tony’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. What kinda game is this? Riff must’ve been itching to cause some trouble by coming into Doc’s, where Valentina had already banned him for one reason or another several times, and bringing up Roxie, of all things, so boldly. Tony glanced at Valentina and saw that was staring at Riff with one of the coldest looks he’d ever seen on her face.

“But I know he’s tryin’ to be a law abidin’ citizen these days,” Riff continued. “So I just came to tell him goodbye.”

Tony looked back at Riff and frowned in confusion. Where is this comin’ from? Riff had given him a good amount of guilt a few weeks before, when he first saw him after being released from prison. It seemed particularly out of character for him to have a sudden change of heart.

“You don’t gotta worry about me or the Jets no more,” Riff assured him.

Tony scoffed in disbelief. “What, ya disbandin’ or somethin’?”

“Quite the opposite, actually,” Riff replied smoothly. “But we ain’t gonna be your problem. So, I wanted to give this back to ya, and then we can be on our own ways.”

Riff held up the object for Tony to take. Tony noted his knuckles were still a bit white. Tony grabbed the object from his hand carefully. After giving Riff a weary look, he looked down to see what it was.

His old Superman comic.

Tony hadn’t even realized Riff still had it. It was a nice gesture, but this discovery only confused Tony further. Riff came all this way for some bull shit talk and gesture? It would’ve been more Riff’s style to stay away from him while possibly hoping that Tony would change his mind and come running back to him and the Jets. His style was certainly not this- to show up and openly admit defeat? That wasn’t like Riff at all.

Before Tony could think of something to say, Riff turned on his heels and headed for the front door. When he reached it, he paused, and looked back at Tony over his shoulder. “Oh, and uh, sorry ‘bout the last page. Gee-Tar must’ve spilled some Coke on it.”

“... What?”

But Riff opened the door and slipped outside.

There was a beat of silence.

“Chico loco,” Valentina declared. “I do not trust him.”

Tony continued to look at the front door and watched as Riff walked down the sidewalk and disappeared from view. “Right…” he muttered distractedly.

“Tony?” Valentina prompted.

Tony looked at her.

“Your lunch?”

“Oh, yeah,” Tony replied, finally snapping out of his confusion. “I’ll be back in ten minutes, I promise.”

Valentina grumbled something under her breath as Tony made a beeline for the front door with the comic book still in hand.

Tony opened the front door quickly and took a step outside. The sun immediately blinded him and the overwhelming heat made it tempting to retreat back inside, but he stayed put and closed the door shut behind him.

He shielded his eyes and looked up and down both directions of the sidewalk. Riff was no where to be seen.

Tony cursed under his breath. Unsure of what else to do, he started making his way towards the deli. Even if Riff’s visit had confused the hell out of him, a decent sandwich couldn’t make things any worse.

As Tony walked, a thought struck him. What did he say ‘bout the last page?

Tony brought the comic in his hand up to eye level and gently unrolled the comic book. It looked like it had been rolled, unrolled, and rolled back up again several times over, but it had also probably looked like that before Riff had borrowed it. Tony turned it over and opened the back over.

There was a note. Tony would have recognized Riff’s scratchy handwriting anywhere, even if he hadn’t been the one to give him the comic book in the first place.

The wall. Friday. 10 PM.

————————————————————————————

Action knew it wasn’t wise to be in the park at that particular hour.

It was late afternoon. Some of the Sharks would be getting out of work soon and would make their way to the park for their evening round of basketball. If they saw him there, standing alone and gaping at the wall, it would only be a matter of time before they started to feel brave and tried to start a problem.

But he didn’t care.

Action looked up at the wall once again, just as he had earlier that day. The feelings he felt while looking at it were the same as before- shock, disappointment, sadness, and anger. Lots and lots of anger.

Somewhere underneath the layers of red, white, and blue paint was the Jet collection of contributions to the wall. They’d been scattered here and there around the paintings that had been added by gangs that had come before them.

Action’s contribution, a single pair of dice with edges that were more wobbly than straight and sides that didn’t match actual dice, was also somewhere underneath all that mess. In his defense, he didn’t exactly have an accurate pair of dice to reference.

The dice he had used as a reference were currently in his possession, as they almost always were. The more he thought about them, the heavier they felt in his pocket.

His grandfather, his mother’s father, had done things the right way. His father left something to be desired in terms of a role model. But his grandfather- now that was someone Action had looked up to with the highest level of respect he’d ever given an adult in his entire life.

His grandfather had come to America from Poland a few decades back. He’d barely been let in, and once he made it inside, the wonderful citizens of New York wasted no time letting him know just how unwelcomed he was. He spent weeks, months looking for a job, but no one would hire him. There’d always been a golden boy, American born and raised, from a block over who’d get hired for the job instead. America was supposed to have been full of opportunities, but his grandfather had struggled to find them. Finally, he’d made friends with some particularly charitable neighbor who got him an interview at that factory.

His grandfather ended up working at that factory for decades, but before he’d gotten the job, and after, when times were particularly tough, there’d been only one other way that he’d been able to scrape by and provide for himself, his wife, and eventually, Action’s mother. His grandfather, in addition to his admirable resilience and perseverance, was not afraid to take advantage of those who looked down upon him. He preyed on the pities of his fellow New York citizens and made off with their cash like a bandit by busking tricks and hustling with his loaded pair of dice.

He used the very same pair of dice in Action’s pocket. The very same pair of dice Action had shakily painted in black paint on the wall. Action’s painting meant more than him, it meant the memory of his grandfather. And while his grandfather was long gone, the tribute to him had remained on that wall.

Now they were both gone.

His grandfather worked for decades before he’d finally gotten the respect from his fellow Americans that he damn well deserved. Seems like it was just yesterday that the Puerto Ricans got off the boat and started moving into the city. It had probably been within at least the last few months, but it might have even begun a few years back. Either way, Action knew one thing with absolute certainty.

The Puerto Ricans hadn’t been around nearly long enough to really earn their way or earn his respect.

Not yet.

And now the City was siding with them, if Number’s observation was correct. The sickenly obvious love portrait to an island far, far away plopped down in the middle of the West Side made that abundantly clear. Action didn’t know why the City had made the decision, but maybe the idea of culture, however laughable that was, did have something to do with it. Regardless, Action knew he shouldn't have been surprised.

Considering how awful his grandfather had been treated, it wasn’t shocking to think about how some of the other fellow citizens, and by extension the City, could turn their backs so easily on Action and the rest of the Polish immigrant families yet again.

Someone had picked up the orange cone Action kicked earlier that morning. Without another moment of thought, he gave it another solid kick for good measure. Once again, the cone went flying through the air several feet until it landed on the concrete with a hollow thunk.

Action let out a puff of air angrily and looked back at the wall. The longer he stared, the more his mind raced. The more his mind raced, the angrier he grew.

“Look at this Jet,” someone said from behind him.

“Maybe if he looks at it long enough, it will start to change.”

Action didn’t need to turn around to know who it was behind him. The accents were dead giveaways.

Even though he did not need to turn around, Action decided to. It was better for him to know his odds. He turned slowly and immediately saw two men whom he recognized.

Sharks.

One of the men had a basketball tucked under his arm. The other, the one closest to Action and only a few feet away, was giving him a pitiful look.

“You know, we did not ask for this,” the man said, gesturing to the wall beyond them with his hand. His tone was lighter than just a moment before, and if Action didn’t know any better, he almost sounded sympathetic. “But, now that it has been done… I would argue that it is an improvement.”

Action stood there grinding his teeth and said nothing as both Sharks laughed a little.

“Do you want us to read it to you?” the other man asked him.

Action exhaled through his nose. “Well, I don't speak it, so I definitely don't read it.”

“No? They don't teach you Spanish in your American schools?” the man asked redundantly.

Action looked up and met each of their eyes. As he glared at them, his own eyes were steadfast and unwavering. Behind the Sharks in front of him, Action could see more Sharks making their way towards the basketball court.

Against his better judgment, Action’s response came naturally.

“No,” he replied calmly. “They don’t teach spic.”

————————————————————————————

Riff had already gone through a handful of cigarettes.

After stopping by Doc’s earlier that afternoon, Riff continued to walk around the neighborhood, smoking as he went.

He swung by the usual haunts- the underpass, the abandoned pier, the salt shed by the river. He was willing to walk miles- and when it was all said and done, he probably would have- in order to take as much time as needed in order to avoid going back to the auto shop and facing the rest of the Jets without knowing exactly the right words to say.

As Riff walked through the neighborhood he knew like the back of his hand, he quickly realized three things he needed to work through in his mind. And once Riff got done figuring that whole mess out, maybe he could go back to the shop without looking or feeling like a fool.

First- Tony is back.

The rest of the guys knew about it. As expected, they hadn’t reacted too well to the news, and Riff was pretty sure Ice and Action had been able to deduce that he had known Tony was back already. The last thing Riff wanted was for them to start telling the rest of the guys that he was keeping things from them. He didn’t think either of them would necessarily go out of their way to do that, but that was all the more reason that Riff needed to get ahead of it before it became a bigger issue.

Yeah, he probably should’ve mentioned that Tony was back way earlier. But Riff was still processing why Tony refused to come back and join them. How could he have told the Jets about it without having the answer as to why himself?

Roxie had said Tony made the decision to stay out of trouble for himself, and that it wasn’t about the Jets… and maybe it wasn’t even about Riff. Regardless, Tony’s decision to turn his back on the Jets affected all of them, and not just himself. Didn’t that make his intentions a little moot?

Riff didn’t know what had gotten into Tony during his stay upstate, and he wasn’t sure whether he would ever find out. And while Riff didn’t want to give the guys a sense of false hope, what was the point in letting them down completely if there was always a small chance Tony could change his mind and come back around?

Riff had to be strategic with whatever he told the rest of the Jets. Maybe it’d be best to give them a little bit of the truth sprinkled in with a little bit of something to frame the situation in the best possible light.

Riff wasn’t going to give up on Tony. Far from it, actually. Hopefully Tony had picked up the decently obvious hint Riff had dropped for him about the note he shoved in the back of the Superman comic and would meet him in a few days.

Riff wasn’t sure what all he would say to Tony at said meeting if Tony actually showed up. There was both plenty to talk about, considering all that had been going on, and yet not a whole lot to talk about at all, if Tony refused to even hear Riff out about any of it. But, Tony had insisted, multiple times if Riff recalled correctly, that he was still willing to be there for him… even if he couldn’t be there for the Jets. Only time would tell if Tony was willing to keep his word, play ball, and still give Riff a chance to speak his mind and convince him to see his side.

Second- the wall.

The damn wall.

Was nothing sacred anymore?

That wall was history. That wall told stories of the gangs that came before them. The Jets had added something of great significance to each of them personally, including Riff.

The four leaf clover he’d painted in green meant more to him than he’d ever shared with anyone. His ma’s Irish heritage and quirky but dedicated beliefs in various superstitions had stuck with him all his life. Riff was no stranger to danger by any means, but even to that day, he refused to walk under an open ladder and he didn’t even want to think about accidentally coming across a black cat. Though his ma was gone, that four leaf clover had been Riff’s way of keeping her memory alive, even if he was the only one who knew its true meaning. And, maybe Riff had also hoped that his ma’s superstitious ways would’ve given him a little bit of karmic luck, almost like she was still watching over him.

But now, the physical indication of the Jets and their livelihoods was gone. Any one of them could bite the dust next week or even the next day and though their memory would live on in the rest of the Jets’ minds, that’s all they’d be. Just a memory.

The Jets had a right to be upset that the wall had been defaced. And to be honest, Riff was really upset by it too. But what could be done? Everything that Riff and the Jets had painted on the concrete was gone and was now covered up by muck. No matter who had painted over it, it was too late- the damage had been done.

Besides, what were he and the Jets supposed to do? Paint right over it?

Though that idea was mighty tempting, Riff had calmed down enough to be able to rationalize that that wasn’t the best idea… at least not at the moment. No, if the Jets went and painted over that Puerto Rican eyesore, they’d be the obvious offenders. If the PRs and Sharks had painted the wall in the first place, they would suspect the Jets right away and start causing even more problems for them. And if the City had been responsible for the painting, Riff and the rest of the guys were likely to face some fines or even some time behind bars if they messed with it.

The wall was important, but Riff didn’t think any of the guys were willing to cough up hard to come by cash or make themselves at home in a jail cell just because they wanted to make themselves feel better for a few fleeting moments.

Third… the auto shop.

Between everything that was going on with Tony and the wall, trying to convince the Jets to keep it cool and avoid picking fights with the Sharks and other PRs seemed downright laughable. Emotions were running too high and Riff knew that some of the guys, not just Action, would be itching to up the ante with the Sharks.

Still, Roxie would be disappointed if he didn’t at least try to pitch the idea to the guys.

He felt torn.

Riff wanted so desperately to feel the hope he had felt just the night before when Roxie gave him the idea of buying the auto shop from his uncle. Genuine hope was something Riff hadn’t felt since he was a kid, when he was innocent and naive and didn’t know any better. Over the years, life and the world around him had sucked all the hope out of him and stomped on it before his very eyes. He came up in the West Side, after all.

But when Riff dared to imagine the potential outcomes buying the shop would bring, hope was the only word that was truly adequate to describe what he felt. The shop could be a place of belonging, even more than it already was, for the rest of the Jets. The shop could be a true home for him. The shop would be able to provide him and the rest of the guys with a way to make money honestly and could allow them to put their days of stealing and shoplifting to an end. And when Riff thought about how proud Roxie would be of him if he was able to pull all that off and what that could mean for their future, the hopeful feelings bubbling inside him only grew.

It hadn’t even been a day since that conversation had happened and the tiniest amount of hope he had within him had been killed once again.

Maybe Riff would be able to find that hope again and keep the promises he’d made to Roxie about trying to be better. Maybe he wouldn’t. All Riff knew for certain was that the damn Puerto Rico mural had gone and thrown a wrench in everything.

…

It was early evening by the time Riff finally made his way back to the shop.

He entered the side door of the garage and was greeted with the sight of the Jets staring at him. Some were sitting on closed toolboxes scattered on the floor, others were leaning up against the workbench on the far wall, and the rest of them had taken a seat on the stairs leading up to the landing. Riff needed to talk to them, but he couldn’t help but feel a little surprised to see that they had been waiting for him at the shop since he left.

Maybe they’d been able to cool down a bit and make Riff’s job easier for him.

The door shut behind Riff with a gentle click and an immediate silence fell over the room.

“How’s it goin’ boss?” Diesel asked cautiously.

Riff looked at Diesel with a blank expression. “Ya know… just took a walk.”

“I heard those can be good for the head,” Mouthpiece noted optimistically.

“Since when do you know ‘bout what’s good for the head?” A-Rab scoffed.

Before any arguments could start, Riff held up a single hand and effectively silenced the both of them. “I think I owe all of ya an explanation…”

Riff looked at Ice, who was leaning up against the garage wall to the left of the side door. Ice was looking at him curiously now, but Riff wouldn’t soon forget the look Ice had given him in the park that morning. Riff should’ve told the rest of the Jets about Tony sooner, but Riff really should have at least clued Ice in about it. Riff trusted Ice, and Action, with the whole business about the trips to the gambling houses a few weeks back, but Riff hadn’t confided in them about Tony. It was hardly surprising that Ice may have felt a little betrayed, and if he was, Riff didn’t blame him.

Riff cleared his throat quietly and looked back at the rest of the Jets. “Now, uh, I ain’t one for big speeches, so I’ll keep this short…”

The more Riff looked at any one of them in particular, with their wide eyes and leaning-forward stances as they waited for his next words, the more quickly he forgot his painstakingly thought out words he’d planned to say. Riff forced himself to move his eyes across the room and refused to look at anyone for more than a few seconds at a time.

“Tony is back,” Riff confirmed. “He’s been back for a few weeks. And Tony is… he’s still Tony, but his time upstate messed him up a bit. He just wants some time to clear his head, ya know? And yeah, I probably should have told ya sooner, but with everything going on with the Sharks lately, I didn’t think it was good timin’.”

“But that’s why we need Tony!” Snowboy insisted. “How we supposed to take on the Sharks without him?”

There was some audible agreement from several of the guys.

“We’ve been handlin’ these streets since Tony got shipped upstate,” Riff reminded all of them. “Whether or not he’s back don’t matter. Besides, if we really need him, I know he’ll come through.”

“But the wall, Riff?” Big Deal asked. “That was a slap to the face and a open challenge if I ever seen one.”

“We don’t know that it was the PRs,” Numbers sighed, and judging by the tone of his voice, Riff could tell that he had suggested as much once already, if not several times.

“Fine,” Diesel quipped, “If the Sharks really ain’t got nothin’ to do with it, why’s the City stickin’ it’s nose in our business?”

“They’re gettin’ the neighborhood ready for the new fancy schmancy residents,” Gee-Tar realized out loud. “They’re sayin’ this place ain’t for us no more.”

“Well, we’re still here!” Balkan exclaimed.

“Your right, we are,” Riff conceded. “And we ain’t goin’ no where.”

Even louder audible agreement echoed through the air as many of the Jets whooped and hollered in response to Riff’s rallying words.

“Listen,” Riff continued, pausing momentarily to ensure he had their undivided attention. “What happened to the wall is rough, I won’t deny ya that. But we can’t do anythin’ ‘bout it… at least not yet.”

“So, what, we just supposed to let them get away with it?” Diesel questioned. “Boss, we’ve put the hurt on guys for a lot less.”

Here we go…

Riff exhaled a light sigh and planted his feet a bit firmer on the concrete ground as he debated how to phrase his next words. “This is gonna sound crazy, I know, but hear me out… What if we didn’t actually have to beat the Sharks?” Confusion was visible on nearly every single one of the Jets’ faces. “What if we just had to outlast ‘em?”

Though confusion was still the predominant reaction Riff could see, some of the guys, like Numbers and Ice, seemed to be picking up on what he was hinting at, or at the very least, they seemed curious.

“What do ya mean by that?” Ice questioned.

“Unless the PRs strike gold, their time ‘round here is runnin’ short, and they know that,” Riff stated definitively. “But us? What if we already got gold?”

“Gold? Where?” Mouthpiece asked, the metaphor going right over his head.

Riff raised his hands up to gesture to the air around them. “Right here.”

It was quiet for several moments as the rest of the Jets looked glanced around the shop and began to process the meaning behind Riff’s words. And he’d be damned, some of them didn’t seem too upset by the notion at all.

“I know it’s crazy,” Riff admitted once again, “and it’ll take some work. But if we could just-”

Riff was cut off when the side door to the garage opened behind him.

Ice’s eyes went wide. “What the hell happened to you?!”

Riff turned and was met with Action, who was giving him a cold look as he took a wobbly step into the garage. As he slammed the door closed behind him, all eyes of the rest of the Jets fell on him.

Action’s right eye was swollen and there was a cut on his lip that seemed pretty fresh. Blood began to run down his chin but he swiped it away with his arm.

It was with slight guilt that Riff realized he’d failed to notice Action’s absence when he returned to the shop just a few minutes before. “Where have ya been?”

Action’s eyes narrowed and he chuckled darkly. He walked past Riff and took a few more steps so that he was in the middle of the shop. He held his arms out wide in some dramatic gesture. “I was out standin’ up for us and the wall.” Action started to point at the rest of the Jets, one by one. “While all of yous were sittin’ in here talkin’ and mopin’ like a bunch of whiney kids, I took charge to try and make things right.”

“What happened to ya?” Riff asked shortly, though he already had a good feeling what Action was about to say.

“Ya know what defendin’ all yous got me?” Action asked the group. “It got me jumped by the Sharks.”

Hearing what Riff had already suspected said out loud made his blood start to boil. “The Sharks jumped you?”

Action nodded. “First it was two of ‘em. That was fine- I held my own. But then a whole lot of ‘em came along and decided to join in. Hell, if Anybodys didn’t come along and distract ‘em, I’d still probably be gettin’ pummeled.”

“Where’s Anybodys now?” Diesel asked.

“The hell if I know,” Action answered dismissively. “All I knows is the Sharks went chasin’ after ‘em and I took the chance to slip away and get back here.”

Riff wanted to reprimand Action and Anybodys as his accessory for going rogue and starting trouble with the Sharks. They’d both directly gone against his order to play it cool for a bit and avoid picking fights.

Not to mention the fact that Riff had an opportunity he wasn’t sure he’d ever get again. He’d been just about to really start to sell the guys on the idea of focusing on the shop in lieu of focusing on the Sharks when Action’s chaotic self had stumbled in with the mess he’d created of his own accord.

… But the more Riff thought about it, the more Riff realized that he was far more pissed by the notion that the Sharks thought it was fair for a handful of them to jump Action. Real tough, goin’ after a Jet all by himself.

“What’re ya gonna do ‘bout this, Riff?” Action demanded, turning around to face him once more.

“What do ya mean?” Ice asked Action. “He told all of us to lay low, and no one asked ya to go defendin’ the wall.”

Action ignored him completely and continued to stare Riff down. “What’s it gonna be? You gonna let ‘em get away with jumpin’ me, all by lonesome self?”

Riff said nothing.

“Today, it was me,” Action continued. “Tomorrow, it could be someone like Baby John.”

The Jet in reference perked up a bit at the mention of his name. Baby John was a bit of a ways away from Riff, sitting on the staircase beside Little Molly. Riff watched as Baby John’s attempt at a tough composure slipped and signs of worriedness began to show through.

Then, Riff’s eyes shifted to take in most of the other Jets, who were looking right back at him. The thoughtfulness they’d exhibited just a few moments before was long gone. The idea of what had happened to Action and what could happen to any one of them next, even someone like Baby John, had riled up anger and frustration within them one again.

They wanted blood.

… And a part of Riff did too.

“Would ya be able to point out who did this to ya?” Riff asked Action quietly.

Despite his injuries, and the slight swaying he was doing most likely as a result of an injury to his foot or ankle, Action smiled at Riff’s words. It was clear he’d gotten the reaction he’d wanted.

Action nodded in response.

If the Sharks wanted to play dirty, Riff and the rest of the Jets could be game.

Riff had a feeling Roxie would be upset when she found out. But, technically, he wasn’t starting anything. It was just payback. They were just going to give those couple of Sharks what they were owed.

An eye for an eye.

It was time to see how serious Roxie was about giving him some time to do better.

————————————————————————————

“Riff, I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

Two nights later, Roxie finally had a night off work. Riff kept his word of taking her out on an actual date and had swung by her apartment just before dinner time.

As silly as it sounded, it was nice to see him. It had only been a day. Roxie hadn’t been able to make it to the shop since Monday, and the previous night, Roxie had been surprised to see Diesel waiting outside the factory after her shift instead of Riff. Diesel told her Riff had something to take care of, but that he would see her the following night.

That had led to Riff leading her across the neighborhood to an old diner. It was on the far end of the neighborhood, several blocks away from where their lives seemed to be centralized. It was basically on the outskirts of the neighborhood, and it had been quite a walk.

On the way over, Riff seemed happy, but Roxie could tell that something was a little off. Maybe it had something to do with whatever he had been up with over the past day, she wasn’t sure. She couldn’t tell exactly what it was, but she planned to find out.

As soon as they arrived, Riff had turned to her with a slightly apprehensive smile as he gauged her reaction upon seeing the diner. Despite the thoughtfulness of his gesture, her worry forced her to state her honest opinion.

“Listen, we’re still in the neighborhood,” Riff said reassuringly, squeezing her hand that he was holding a bit tighter. “I just thought, since we used to come here a bit,” he continued a little nervously, “we should come back to it for our first date.”

Roxie was very familiar with the diner in front of them. She should’ve known Riff’s intentions the moment he led her more than a few blocks away from her apartment.

It was a diner they used to frequent often on their way back from gambling houses in the neighborhood over.

The diner used to be open all hours of the day. From the looks of it, that was still the case. It had been convenient at the time, considering the late hours of the night Riff and Roxie found themselves coming back to the neighborhood. Sometimes, they left the gambling houses so late that their rumbling stomachs greatly outweighed the prospect of sleep.

One night, as they were heading back from a neighborhood over on the East Side, they’d seen the diner. There’d been hardly a soul around, save the waitress and cook they could see through the windows inside. The recollection of that night’s earnings was all the further convincing they needed. Judging by the look on her face, the waitress had wondered what a couple of kids their age were doing out in the middle of the night. But she’d served them and taken their money without saying a word.

Compared to the newer diner that Roxie had been meeting Velma at over the summer, this one paled in exterior comparison. The lights outside weren’t nearly as bright and the metal accents on the building were dull, not shiny. But this diner held more sentimental value to Roxie than the other one ever would.

Roxie would have been over the moon at the gesture, if she wasn’t so worried about its proximity to the East Side neighborhood where they’d seen that man murder that other one in an alley almost two years ago. Not to mention the fact that many of the old gambling houses they’d gone to, even one from a few weeks before, were only a few blocks away.

“Roxie?” Riff prompted, breaking her from her thoughts.

We’re still in the West Side, Roxie repeated Riff’s notion to herself in an effort to calm her rising nerves. “I’m sorry,” she replied. “Do you have money for this?”

“I told ya I would take care of everythin’,” Riff reminded her.

“But I know how tight money has been with the shop. I’m not going to dine and dash-“

“I got money,” Riff promised. “Besides, this is kinda like our place, ya know? I wanna be able to bring ya here whenever ya want. I can’t do that if I piss off the staff.”

Touched by his words, Roxie smiled at him. A moment later, she led the way inside, lightly pulling him along behind her.

Given that it was a Wednesday night, the diner wasn’t too crowded even though it was dinner time. The two had gotten their drinks fairly quickly and ordered their food within five minutes of sitting down.

Once their waitress walked away to put in their order, a comfortable silence fell over the pair.

Roxie looked over at Riff, who was staring at her with a small smile on his lips.

“What?” she asked him with a small laugh.

“Just lookin’ at my girl,” Riff replied nonchalantly. “Wonderin’ how I got so lucky.”

Roxie pursed her lips as she tried to prevent herself from blushing a bit. Damn him.

“If I’m this lucky, I ought to see if it could actually pay out,” Riff said with a mischievous smile. “Maybe I made a mistake in promisin’ not to go back to those old haunts of ours.”

The thought of Riff going back to a gambling house, with or without her, immediately killed the blush Roxie had been fighting off and she frowned. Pointing a finger at him, she said evenly, “That’s not funny.”

Riff snickered and reached out to grab her hand. He laced their fingers together and gently guided their hands down until they rested upon the table. “I’m just kiddin’, Doll.”

Roxie let out a small sigh and looked at their intertwined hands. A warm feeling began to seep in at the sight, until she caught a glance of something odd.

Calmly, so as to not give any indication that she had noticed, Roxie looked back up at Riff. He was still looking at her sweetly.

“I miss you yesterday,” Roxie said.

“I missed ya too.”

“So… what were you up to?”

Riff’s steady breathing faltered ever so slightly. “Just some Jet business.”

“That late at night?”

Riff shrugged and refused to meet her eyes.

“Does it have anything to do with the wall?“ Roxie guessed.

Riff’s eyes shot up and locked with hers once again. “Ya know ‘bout that?”

“I live across the street, Riff. I can see it from the entrance to the building.”

What had happened to the wall was a shame. Roxie knew most of the Jet’s contributions to the wall by sight. Though she never knew explicitly what any of their paintings meant, she had a pretty good idea about a few of them. It was understandable that Riff and the rest of the guys would be upset by what had happened.

The wall had been vandalized and painted on by various gangs for many years, so it made sense that a day had to come where the City would want to clean it up once and for all. They had to start tidying up the neighborhood for all the rich folks who would start to move in.

But the homage to Puerto Rico was certainly an odd choice. Weren’t they in America? Weren’t the Puerto Ricans in just as much jeopardy as anyone else of getting evicted and forced to move on to somewhere else?

Regardless, Roxie had asked Betty about the mural Monday afternoon when she had returned from her lunch with Velma. Betty informed her that the rumor mill said the City was hoping to showcase some of the local culture with the content choice of the mural.

It seemed a bit ironic, painting symbols of Puerto Rican independence under the guise of a cultural display. If any of the Puerto Ricans had painted the mural themselves, Roxie had a hard time believing that the police would be willing to let such a thing slide. The City must’ve been able to willingly tolerate such displays, but only if it was their idea to install them in the first place.

Roxie glanced down at Riff’s hand once again. Though she’d held hands with Riff earlier, she hadn’t noticed something in the dim light from the setting sun.

Riff’s knuckles were bruised. That could only mean one thing.

“Did you get into a fight?” Roxie asked him calmly.

Riff immediately withdrew his hand from hers and placed it under the table and out of her view. However, his eyes did not leave hers. “… Not technically.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Let’s just say I didn’t start nothin’,” Riff replied cryptically. “… But I did finish it.”

Disappointed was an understatement for what Roxie felt. It was just a week ago that Riff had promised to try and do better and not get into trouble. She had foolishly assumed that he knew that meant no fighting, but perhaps she should have made that explicitly clear.

Riff began to shift uncomfortably the longer she stared at him. “Look, I know I told ya I’d try to be better, but one of the guys said they got jumped by some Sharks,” he explained. “And if they’re tellin’ the truth, the Sharks started it. My hands were tied; I had to prove to him that I still have his back.”

“I hope whoever it is is trustworthy,” Roxie snipped.

“He is.”

“Who was it?”

Riff pursed his lips.

Roxie gave him a few more seconds to come clean, and when it became clear that he was not going to give her an answer, she sighed in defeat.

“Tony was right,” Roxie said. “You’re not going to be honest with me, are you?”

Riff’s brows furrowed and he shook his head. “No, I meant what I said,” he insisted. “If it’s anythin’ ‘bout us, I’m gonna be an open book.” He leaned back in his sat a bit as if trying to get more comfortable. “But trust me, it’s better if ya don’t know everythin’ that’s goin’ on with the Jets.”

“Are you actually concerned about me, or are you just worried I won’t approve if I know what you’re really up to?” Roxie countered.

Riff said nothing.

“Maybe it’s both, then,” Roxie theorized. “If you’re part of the Jets, and I’m involved with you, I ought to know what’s going on, Riff.”

“And I’m telling ya that I can’t tell ya everything,” Riff argued stubbornly.

Roxie stared at him, silently willing him to cave and change his mind or at the very least spill the information she’d asked about.

But Riff was resolved. He learned back further in the booth seat and crossed his arms across his chest. His eyes remained fixated on hers. It was clear that he was not going to budge, at least not right at that moment.

Roxie wanted Riff to own up to the fact that he had contributed to furthering the tensions between the Jets and the Sharks. She wanted him to fess up and apologize to her for even getting into another fight at all.

But there was something else in her mind that was nagging her as she watched him hold up his stubborn front.

What had Velma said?

You have Riff’s ear, now.

Roxie could try to push Riff on the issues at hand, and maybe she’d get somewhere. But she probably wouldn’t. Riff would likely just pull away from her, just as he had that night in her aunt’s old apartment two winters back.

If Riff pulled away from her now, she wouldn’t have the chance to talk him out of doing something really stupid and dangerous.

A rumble.

There was also the fact that the thought of her and Riff calling it quits a second time nearly broke her heart just thinking about it. The first time had broken her heart for certain. The second time, god forbid there’d be one, would be even worse. They’d been through too much together.

The feelings Roxie had for Riff were more intense than they’d ever been. They’d only been back together for a week, but the feelings she had seemed to be increasing exponentially with each passing day.

Come hell or high water, Roxie was beginning to realize that she would have to see the relationship with Riff through to whatever end fate had in store for them.

So if that meant being patient with him at that particular moment and going against her better judgment, if only this once, so be it.

“Did you talk to the guys about possibly buying the shop?” Roxie asked, changing the subject.

Riff seemed slightly off-put by her question. He must’ve thought she’d insist on arguing with him. Two years ago, I probably would have.

“I didn’t exactly have an opportune moment to really get into it…”

“Just try,” Roxie insisted calmly. “Did you talk to Tony?”

Riff did a double take at her second attempt to change the direction of the conversation in less than a minute. “I’m workin’ on it… Are ya gonna stop naggin’ me soon? You’re not my Ma.”

“It’s a shame, maybe you’d actually listen to me if I was,” Roxie replied quietly.

Riff’s eyes narrowed a bit at her words. “If you wanna make this a true fight, be my guest,” he told her plainly. “Just know it’s gonna be real awkward when I still have to walk ya home at night.”

“You wouldn’t have to,” Roxie disagreed, though she had no intention of holding him to her suggestion. “I’m not scared of the Sharks.”

“Well, maybe ya should be…”

“Why do you say that?” Roxie questioned. “All this fighting is for the boys. Girls are kept out of it, you know that.”

Riff remained silent.

“Unless there’s a reason why the Sharks would be motivated to antagonize us…”

Riff looked at her a bit hesitantly, and Roxie’s blood ran cold.

“Riff, I swear to god, you better be joking,” Roxie hissed through her teeth. “I better never, ever catch one word of any of the Jets even looking at any of the Puerto Rican girls, or any other girls, for that matter, in a less than savory way. If I do, you better say your goodbyes to them now, because I will kill them with my bare hands.”

The look on Riff’s face as he considered her threats was not the one she’d been expecting. Based on his behavior earlier in the evening, she half expected him to make some crude defense in their behalf. But she should’ve known better.

Despite her violent words, Riff looked at her with a small smile, and she wasn’t sure what to make of that until he quietly muttered his response.

“You’d follow in your old man’s footsteps, huh?”

The two refused to look away from one another as a tension began to form around them.

It wasn’t necessarily a cheap shot, she knew that Riff was aware of what had happened. Hell, she had been the one to tell him. Of course, it had only been out of necessity in order to correct some disparaging rumor his uncle had told him, but he still knew the truth of it.

But it was bold of him to reference the matter in public, and it wasn’t something she was quite comfortable with. Still, if he wanted to be bold, she would meet him halfway.

“I will if I have to,” Roxie vowed solemnly.

Riff continued to hold her gaze for a few more moments. Finally, he glanced down at the table and the tension that started to build quickly faded away.

“Well, how ‘bout I don’t even let it get that far, and I keep you outta prison and with me, huh?” he suggested. “Besides, if I heard of any of them doin’ anythin’ like that, ya wouldn’t even get your chance at ‘em.”

“No?” Roxie challenged.

“No,” Riff repeated. “I’d take care of them myself.”

His tone was solemn, and there wasn’t a doubt in her mind that he meant every word. His words suggested something very dark, just as dark as her own threat. But in some sick way, hearing those words from him comforted her.

At least they were still in agreement on some things.

“What happened to womb to tomb?” Roxie asked curiously.

“Still stands,” Riff acknowledged. “But there ain’t nothin’ sayin’ ‘bout how they get from sperm to worm.”

It was at that moment that the waitress dropped their food off at their table.

Unsure of what else to say, Roxie began to dig into her meal. She didn’t notice Riff had yet to touch his food and was staring at her until a minute or so had passed.

“What?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Riff prefaced carefully. He no longer looked frustrated, and his usual calm demeanor had once again taken over. He gave her that lazy smile that she’d never be able to get enough of.

“I don’t like all this fightin’ with you,” Riff admitted. “But it’s good to see that the fighter is still in ya.”

Roxie didn’t bother to fight the blush that rose in her cheeks this time.

……………

The two continue their meal in considerable peace and contentment, blissfully unaware that they had been spotted and recognized by someone of interest sitting at the counter across the diner.

A/N: Thank you for reading! Please feel free to interact if you enjoyed. :) If you would like to be added to the taglist, let me know! Tentatively planning to post the next part on next Saturday, 3/19.

A/N: UPDATE 3/19: Next part is planned to be posted on Sunday, 3/20. Thank you for your patience!

TAGLIST: @whisperofsong @disguisedbassethound @lingerasthesmokeoncedid @westsidelegendary @sallymakesstuff @youngteenagehearts @wombtotombx @loverisi @wnygirl2012 @b-bella9 @princessmiaelicia

Part 16

Masterlist

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mixed-theater-faisty-tings · 2 years

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Lovin’ Kind

Chapter Four Pairing: Riff x Latina! Summary: It’s the night of the dance and everyone is together…mixing…dancing…how long with the peace last? A/N: Hi!! Thank you again for reading! Enjoy Chapter 4 we are in for a wild ride!!!

*DISCLAIMER: THERE IS A BIT OF AN UNCOMFORTABLE SCENE TAKING PLACE IN THIS CHAPTER PLEASE LOOK OUT FOR “***” AS A WARNING TO SKIP* ————————————————————

Catalina Pov

I take one last look at myself in the mirror, my new dress perfectly fitted to my figure, perfect curls in my hair and a simple makeup look. Everyone was excited for this night out but, not psyched for everyone being there. Once I was satisfied with my appearance I head to the front of the store so I could leave.

“Oyee que bonita!!!”, My Tia gasps hugging me. “Gracias Tia”, I smile. “Please be careful tonight.”, she kisses my head. “I will be with Junior. I’ll be fine.”, I sigh. “You look nice Catalina.”, Tony chimes in. “Thanks buddy boy. I’ll see you when I get back.”, I say. He nods and I make my way towards the school to meet everyone else. ————————————————————————————

As my feet carried me towards the school my mind wandered to Riff and if he was serious about me saving him a dance. I wouldn’t mind at least one dance it could make me less miserable than being with Junior. My thoughts are interrupted by the Sharks and their girls greeting me.

“Hola Hermosa!”, Anita hugs me. “Hola. Que bonita”, I say to her and Maria. “Junior you know Altagracia”, Nardo chimes in with his friend at his side. “Of course I do. You look beautiful Alta”, he kisses my hand.

“Gracias Junior. It was very nice of you to take the night off to escort me here.”, my words coated with a polite tone. “I wouldn’t miss it.”, he smiles. “Now remember our girls make theirs look lousy so any gringos that try to come at you..pow”, he uppercuts the air.

The boys cheer him on while the girls try to control their men and keep them civil. We all walk in as a big group coming face to face with a gym full of Jet’s twirling their girls. Riff and Grazi center of it all, no space between their bodies. The sight creating knots in my stomach.

“You okay Alta?”, Junior asks. I smile and nod moving my attention from the center of the floor to my date. We are all in our own conversations when I hear Riff’s voice.

“Oh what you wanna dance Bernardo!”, he yells. “You’re the one trying to dance with me”, Nardo yells back. Junior runs off to back up his leader dragging me with him. “Porto ricans girls aren’t enough you gotta dance with us Jets.”, A-Rab jumps in. “Cállate bastardo!”, Junior yells. “Guys can we not do this.”, I step between Riff and Nardo.

Both of them equally pissed off, their chests rising up and down rapidly as I look at them both. Tension quite prominent in the air as both gangs exchange angered looks. Everyone ready to fight for a spot in the gym as though there wasn’t room for us all.

“Stay out of this Catalina.”, Riff says to me not breaking eye-contact with his opposing leader. “You don’t talk to her!”, Junior says. I push him back with a gusto that surprises him . “As a matter a fact I talk to her everyday amigo.”, Riff fires focusing now on my date; I place a hand on his chest to keep him back. “Riff let’s not okay just go back to Grazi please.”, I beg.

His eyes meet mine. Mine pleading not to let this go forward. “Only if you save me a dance.”, he negotiates placing a hand on his hip now. “As if she’d ever dance with a American like you.”, Nardo yanks at my arm “Bernardo! Atrás!”(Back off), I scold him pulling my arm back. “So Catalina?”, Riff pushes.

“One dance then we return to our dates. I just want this to stop.” I sigh in defeat. He nods and takes my hands pulling me into the center of the floor when I hear Anita yell. “Oye, Javi! Ponle fuego, vamos!”, and the band starts playing a Mambo.

Riff doesn’t waste any time instantly beginning to swing, and spin me around. Our hips moved in perfect sync, his grey jacket flying open at every motion and my dress flowing with the music. There was no space left between us even our faces were nose to nose and I couldn’t help but smile. The way he would hold my hips, keeping me close like I’d fly away with each lift.

“Having fun girly girl”, he notices my smile. “Maybe.”, I admit. Laughs between us both escapes into the air forgetting we were in a gym full of people. For once I didn’t care what the Jets or Sharks had to say.

Just as we were about to twirl once more we notice Tony walk through the doors wearing a white button up and jacket. After exchanging a confused look, we pause our movements and race in his direction.

“Tony! I knew you’d come through!”, Riff yells. “Welcome to the real world.”, I say hugging him. “You two are too much I swear.”, Tony chuckles. “Riff hello!You promised we would dance so let’s dance.”, Grazi says dragging him back and glaring at me. I watch the two reclaim their power and attempt to hide the hint of disappointment rising to my features.

“I should get back.”, I tell Tony walking back over to Junior. “Que diablos fue eso.(What the hell was that?)”, Junior asks me.

“Lamento no querer que todos pelearan. Desde que crecí en Doc’s, los Jets me responden de manera diferente “(I'm sorry I just didn't want everyone fighting. Since I grew up at Doc's the Jets respond differently to me)., I explain.

He nods with a sigh and leads me over to the dance floor once more. It wasn’t like dancing with Riff though, he didn’t hold my body like it was the last time he ever would, the movements were not as strong, but I smiled my way through. The Sharks cheered us on as we moved along side Nardo and Anita. We ended the dance and another began quickly.

“I’m gonna go get some punch.”, I excuse myself my the dance floor needing to get away. Junior nods and walks over to the guys starting up a random conversation. While at the punch table I search for Tony but the giant is no where to be seen..maybe he left he’s never been the dancing type.

In the midst of scanning the room I catch a glimpse of Riff looking over at me as Grazi drags him along the dance floor, I give a small smile and look away beginning to walk back to my side of the gym when suddenly I feel a strong grip on my hips spinning me to face the person.

***

“Hola kitty cat”, Diesel says. “What do you want?”, I turn to pull away from his grip. “A dance sweetheart. Riff got one so the Jets thought we could pass you around.”, his hands explore my hips. “No i’m okay.”, I fight harder.

“Aww come on it’s one little dance.”, he keeps me close to his chest burying his face into my neck trying to nip at my skin, slowly drawing his hands up and under my dress. “Diesel stop!.”, I beg and try to push his hands away from me.

His hands force my hips to move with his, fingers digging into the skin tightening the more I struggle. “DIESEL!!!”, I yelp, holding back tears. “Come on get scratchy cat”, he says.

I squeeze my eyes shut trying not to look at him, my heart is racing and body shaking but I refuse to cry I can’t. I pray for anyone to notice and help me as his hands continue to explore my body. A knot formed in my stomach causing me some nausea.

***

The weight suddenly disappears and I open my eyes to see Junior ontop of Diesel punching him one fist after the other…right..left..right..left. A couple of Jet’s trying to pull Junior off of their buddy, while the Sharks try to stop them; Officer Krupkes whistles loud and endless.

I had never seen Junior this way, steam coming out of his ears, fist full of Diesel’s blood. I take the chance to run out of the gym not sure where to go but I kept running as far as my feet would take me. My hands trembling as the tears finally run down my cheeks taking my eyeliner and mascara with them. ————————————————————————————

Riff Pov

After Grazi dragged me back to the floor I couldn’t help but look over at Tony and Catalina. Dancing with Grazi was nothing like dancing with her…there’s no passion that comes with it. I could care less about keeping her body near me. As I glide across the floor with the girl in my arms I purposely keep my body facing the direction of Catalina now dancing with her date. He clearly doesn’t appreciate her the way I do.

God, Catalina looked beautiful tonight the dress she is wearing hugs her figure perfectly while also flowing with her strides, her makeup not overdone and her presence making every second at this dance better. Just as everyone was enjoying themselves even if we were all just trying to out dance each other I see Tony emerge from behind the bleachers and Bernardo pissed.

I leave my date once more running over to defend my best friend. Next to Tony was a girl wearing a white dress with a red belt and they both seemed flustered. “What the hell were you doing with my sister!”, Bernardo pushes Tony causing him to stumble into the bleachers.

“Hey hey let’s calm it down amigo”, I butt in pushing him off of my fellow Jet. “What do you two want with a puerto rican girl!”, the Shark yells in my face.

Another Puerto Rican pulls the one in white towards her and away from the anger seeping through our words. “I ain’t looking for trouble. Just wanted to dance with her.”, Tony says. “She don’t wanna dance with you gringo.”, Bernardo steps closer to my buddy and I. “How about –“ I am cut off by a scream.

All of us turning our attention to the other side of the gym where Diesel is all over Catalina touching her in ways that made my skin crawl. My feet move me before I can think, ready to beat Deez to a pulp but, a Shark handles that before I even reach them.

In the quick moment it takes to scope out Diesel getting his ass handed to him Catalina runs off. I hesitate going after her..she was with someone else…she didn’t even wear the…screw it this is way too important! I forget the Jets and race after her. But by the time I am outside she has disappeared, I try to imagine where she could’ve gone.

I run around to all the Jet’s hangouts the docks, courts…DOC’S! My heart is ready to give out from all the running I’ve done when I reach the store, banging on the door for the old women to let me in.

“Riff! What the hell are you doing!”, Valentina scolds me. I ignore her and push past yelling for Catalina. “She isn’t here you idiot, she’s at the dance which you should know you look like you were there too.”, she rolls her eyes closing the door.

“She left. Something happened and she ran off and I didn’t go after her right away. Now I can’t find her I need to make sure she is okay.”, I ramble running my fingers through my hair. “What do you mean she ran away? What the hell happened?!.”, the women asks.

“Things seemed okay for a while at least…then I heard a scream. Diesel was all over her, touching her under her dress, and his face buried in her neck. I was going to pry him off of her when a Shark took care of that for me and she ran off..I hesitated when I shouldn’t have and now she’s gone.” I explain apprehension clear in my words.

“She will be fine..she’s a strong girl and will probably come home soon. Diesel however”, She pulls out a chair for me to sit in and places herself in the other. You could hear the worry for her niece coated with a hint of confidence she would return . “You sure?”, I ask.

“Why does her safety matter to you? You do nothing but push her buttons and reek havoc on us Puertorriqueños.”, she inquires. “I may be a delinquent but doesn’t mean I support a man touching a girl unprovoked like that”, I spit instantly regretting the harshness. She had every right to ask of my sudden care for her that was not so sudden.

“I’m just pointing out the facts. Not a day in your life have you showed you cared for her or her well-being.”. her words mixed with a harsh tone. “Maybe i’m changing.”, I say avoiding her gaze. “Changing?”, the woman is taken aback with disbelief.

“I don’t know…it’s this new feeling I have with her she has this thing about her that makes you feel safe..and wanted.”, I look down. “She is like her mom in that way. There’s something that makes you want to tell them everything in confidence they won’t judge you or belittle you.”, she adds to my statement.

“Exactly..and when she isn’t near me I want her to be. I know i’ve spent my whole life pushing her buttons but I have never truly meant it. In a way i’ve always known she was special I just know i’m not.”, sadness hidden within my statement. “You are right about her being special.”, she points out.

“Why am I telling all this to you?”, I question. “I was wondering the same thing.”, she admits. “You promise she will come home?”, I ask. “Positive.”, she reassures me.

We both sit in silence for what seemed like forever nothing but the OPEN letters giving us light waiting for Catalina to walk through the door. My thoughts lingered around her wondering why she didn’t wear the skirt to the dance tonight I saw how stunned she was by it at the market. I thought she’d wear it the first chance she got.

She accepted the trinket, candy and flower…she seemed to be having as much fun with me as I did with her but something still felt off. Maybe I misread things and she was just being nice, but she didn’t owe me any kindness after all these years. Maybe it was just for Tony’a sake.

“Know what think i’m gonna go”, I stand up. “I’m sure she’ll be back don’t you wanna talk to her?”, Valentina asks me. “No no it’s okay uh actually just don’t tell her I stopped by”, I say. “But-“, she is confused at my sudden change of heart. “Please.”, I say.

Valentina sighs and agrees. I nod to thank her and walk out of Doc’s. ————————————————————————————

Catalina Pov

After running away from the dance I just walked about the city trying to calm myself down. It was like I could still feel his hands exploring my body causing me to tremble, and I never thought Diesel would be so cruel as to do something like that. Sure he was angry at the world for the hand he was dealt but name a Jet who wasn’t.

The moment replayed in my head on loop like a bad song you couldn’t skip and I began to cry all over again. Hours had past before I finally landed back at Doc’s finding my Tia waiting in the front of the store for my return. I walked in knowing I was going to have to relive tonight once more as a storyteller.

“Mija que paso!”, she gasps taking one look at me. Makeup smeared with puffy, red eyes a mix of mascara burning my cornea and crying. “The dance Tia…Riff and Nardo almost fought so to break it up I had to dance Riff, then Tony showed up, and I was with Junior and I just went to get a drink when Diesel came..a-and he touched me and kissed my neck and…said things th-that I can’t. He hurt me Tia, he killed a part of me!”, I cried

“Shhh…it’s okay mi nina you’re safe now he will get what’s coming to him.”, she pulls me close running her fingers through my messy hair.

I lean into her embrace crying myself dry and all I wanted to do was curl up in bed. My Tia walked me to my room and we removed what once was a beautiful face of makeup. She also helped me unzip the red dress I loved a mere few hours ago but, now wanted to burn so i’d never see it again.

Standing in my undergarments I examen my body in the mirror, my hips now imprinted with purple, and blue handprints. I run my hand across my right hip, hissing at the pain. My Tia looks at me saddened handing me my blue night gown.

I pull the fabric over my head and lay in bed. She pulls the covers over my body tucking me in for the first time since I was 9, after laying a soft kiss on my forehead she leaves the room.

I roll onto my side but soon regret it when my weight lands on the bruises sending shocks of pain down my side. I have no choice but to lay on my back trying to sleep drifting between nightmares and sleep deprivation unsure which one was worse. ————————————————————————————

@whisperofsong @theforgottenmcrmy @belenchies @dellaspinstales @riffheartsgraziella

#mike faist #wss 2021 #wss riff #riff #riff west side story #west side story #west side story 2021 #riff wss #riff x oc #riff x latina #riff fanfic #riff lorton #the jets west side story #sharks west side story

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limetimo · 2 years

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RAB fics I read this week

The Horcrux Hunt by Keysie good shit, good shit good shit!!! Pricky bastard Regulus plans to survive the cave, survives the cave, realises Voldy probably didn't stop at Horcrux, and goes to Dumbles, who assigns him a research partner: Remus Lupin! Remus takes one look at the younger man and goes "haha lets push all his buttons until his explodes" and does just that. Exquisite

and he smiled (with a mouthful of bloody teeth) by justprompts after the Prank, Sirius gets expelled and goes off to Drumstrang. And starts his own secret anti-Voldy movement and so on so forth go read it his interactions with Regulus are peak siblings comedy

To Love is a Gift by silverfield Regulus showed up at James' flat bleeding the heck out aaand whoopsie we did an oopsie, he can't quite remember how he got in this situation. So they need to investigate that and uncover the details of Regulus' betrayal.

Power the Dark Lord Knows Not by Fantismal, Jormandugr I'M SCREAMING get your tissues ready I had to take a walk after I was finished because I needed a breather. The tension is MASTERFULLY done here. On his quest to destroy the Horcruxes Regulus reaches out to Sirius (and later the rest of the family too). Warning for Big Emotions ♥

Not While I’m Around by Rosencrantz95 A little Black Bros on the battlefield interaction ♥ short sweet and will punch you in the heart

For the Best by Rowanmoonlight :((((((((( Walburga being a A+ parent 10/10 would hug her... with a rope around her neck

Sibling Rivalry by eprime 📷 :D Regulus has always had a Thing for his brother's boyfriend and well, since the opportunity arose, he's not going to say no... AKA how Remus got railed by both Black Brothers.

Dark side of the moon by hauntedpoem When he's home alone, Regulus listens to some muggle music.

Drugs and surgical scrubs by anauro !!! Doctor Regulus harbours a recovering addict James in his spare bedroom in hopes James going clean will make Sirius go clean too, and that he'll have his brother back.

Rewriting Fate by The_Yellow_Pen When they die, Regulus, Sirius, Bellatrix and Narcissa get all yeeted back to their teenage bodies. They can't quite agree what their goal is, or how to achieve it, but they're all agree that the future they lived sucked and they're going to create their own.

The Fighting and Most Sensible Brothers Black by Haunted_Frost "Though Sirius was warned, repeatedly, that his little brother was smaller, that he had to be careful." Top notch siblings dynamics, and Cat Animagus Regulus! Give it a read, give it a Kudos!

The Brothers of the House of Black by kwardart Hugs are rare in Grimmauld Place.

Different Paths of the Brothers Black by NWCountrygirl17 Sirius drags Regulus out of the Slytherin common room to apologise to a girl he called a mudblood.

The Noble Brothers Of Black by SuperxPrettyxKitty Black Bros Incest if you're into that, the execution didn't phase me personally. The writing is on the nice side of the scale

The Black brothers say goodbye by who5555 what it says on the tin, Sirius runs away from home

[ART] The Black Brothers by ElyonBlackStar the brothers share a moment, with art!

The Brothers Black by museme87 again, beautiful siblings interaction. it sounds like a good bye

Across Enemy Lines by Jegulus4life could use a beta but the plot is very nice! Regulus reaches Dumbledore before he even joins DEs, and it goes from there.

when you were mine by battlehamster Regulus on domestic arrest in single dad James' house you've seen this one here more than once already xD

Chain Reaction by Chaotic_Regulus_Stan, elder_millennial_trash, fuckboyregulus, givemethearapyimawalkingtravesty, Kiwiwhore Regulus melts James' brain by being a sexy bossy bastard

Tea Before a Crackling Fire by tinyscales just??? so ??? pleasant ♥♥♥

The Life You Lose by Fishielicious Regulus is a hot mess trying his best to survive (and keep Sirius alive) with the most chaotic stunts possible I love him your honour. Sorta an open ending? I do hope there's more where that came from. Read and comment, this fic deserves some love.

For Shits and Giggles by silverfield Regulus is getting pounded by stress of his parents' expectations AND a bunch of massive digesting disorders. He has no fucks left to give he just hopes he doesn't die before the end of the Quidditch season. If everyone could leave him alone, that would be nice too (*side-eyes Sirius, Potter, Barty and Evan*

Follow In Her Paw Prints by Erica45 McGonagall accidentally overhears Regulus' mental breakdown and adopts him ♥

By Your Heart's Calm Strength by pansysnarkinson Somebody burned Grimmauld place the f down with Wally and Orion inside my money is on Kreacher or Sirius also Jegulus

As Soon As He Can by Trex_patronus Ghost Regulus hunting the Horcruxes with Marauders (and Lily and baby Harry baby Neville and baby Luna. and their parents but the babies steal the show every time)

You and I Against the World by Trex_patronus Another peak siblings interaction! ♥♥♥ It's what they deserve! ♥♥♥

After Everything, Always by Reggie4dayzz After James messes up Regulus' chance at catching the snitch, it's fight or fuck... and they choose fuck. Very lovely!

tell them i was happy (and my heart is broken) by BlueSundayCake Regulus is in a coma for a couple years after the cave and wakes up to his high school sweetheart he'd thought he'd lost forever

#regulus black #fic rec #i have a problem ♥#am i making this list instead of important things? yes #yes I am!#kill me now

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daisyachain · 3 years

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Martin stories -> foundational for the myth of Redwall, memorable characters, one of the few romances of Redwall, Martin the Traumatized Loner is an incredibly interesting character to meet given how central he is to the people of the Abbey, Salamandastron introduced in legendary manner, harsh and hopeless settings make for stories with high stakes that are satisfying to see end, archetypal ally-gathering journeys, neat foiling with the Martin-Rose-Brome-Felldoh square

Mariel stories -> interesting to see a Martin-type protagonist clash and interact with the society of Redwall, side characters are varied and well-fleshed out, antagonists are focused and omnipresent threats to keep tension high, more defined inter-character relationships (Dandin-Saxtus, Mariel-Joseph, Mariel-Dandin, Durry-Rufe-Fatch, Mariel-Tarquin-Rosie, Joseph-Finbarr, Rab-Muta) give life to the ensemble, consistent action gives a sense of a coherent story

#Kelsey liveblogs redwall #truly Martin is a great character but Mariel is what would happen if Martin had been born after Redwall was founded #both are good. I think Martin the Warrior edges out Mariel of Redwall for a slave’s escape and revenge #and The Bellmaker edges out Mossflower for the story of a forest land coming together to get rid of a tyrant #Tsarmina is a better villain but the journey to Salamandastron meanders and loses the sense of urgency while the third act is anticlimactic #but fundamentally they both have: traumatized warrior protagonist who learns to love again. gay-coded squirrels. performer hares.

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r-b-stan · 3 years

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WHERE: Obscurus Books, Diagon Alley

WHO: Rabastan & Open.

He ran a hand down the side of his face as his bright hues intently scanned the rows of books. Never much of a bookworm, or an academic -- his NEWTs were good example of that -- recently Rabastan had tired of feeling and looking second-best in most, if not every part, of his life.

His new role as an Unspeakable did not come without its consequences. Long hours, hard work, constant secrecy. But, it was a new opportunity for him and one where Rab could see himself THRIVING . . . if he could knuckle down, for once. The book in question wasn’t an easy find, and as with anything with work, his suspicions were heightened.

Feeling an odd tension shiver through him, Rabastan pauses, clicking his tongue in mild petulance. �� Stand any closer and Witch Weekly will be printing stories about us. ” his faux disapproving tone is only matched by the furrow on his brow as he turns his gaze. “ Is there something you’re after ? ”

#inferi starter #ooc: come say helloooo!#ooc: he seems moody hes not really heheh

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cl-01-kestis · 3 years

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Incorrect Morals

Dismay - Grand Admiral Thrawn x Rebel!Reader | Part 7

Summary: You receive a call from Thrawn once again and spend the night getting lost in conversation, and after a tense negotiation with a team of rebels, you get stuck in a sticky situation with Kallus.

Warnings: slight romance, angst (literally all these chapters have angst i-) (I’m also sorry to all of you Kalluzeb shippers. I do ship it very much but it isn’t a thing in this story 🥺)

Chiss translations:

Ch'ah tsucarah = I promise

Rab nor rah vah k'ir ch'at rihn? = but only if you do the same?

Ch'ah csarcican't, k'ir nah can'a about ch'ah = I will, don’t worry about me

Ch'ah’ll can'a about vah veah ch'otco veah ch'ah ran'as, non ch'pae = I’ll worry about you as much as I want, now go

It was 10:45 PM.

The sky dimmed into a pitch black and Omani had gone to bed due to how mentally and physically exhausted she was, mostly because of the journey and the fact she had seen her dad in person for the first time and her mind wouldn’t shut up about it. As for you, you had just gotten out of the shower. It had been a long day and your visit to Naboo had been cut short due to obvious circumstances and you felt the need to clean up.

You stood in front of the comunual refresher mirror, drying your hair with a spare towel you had lying about as your body was on full show. No one used the refreshers at this time of night so you didn’t necessarily need to cover up.

You brought your bag to the showers since you went in a refresher as soon as you undressed from your Senator outfit. You scrubbed your hair and body, unable to shake the feeling of anxiety off your skin as you washed yourself under the cold water.

The towel soaked up all the water on your body as you dried your hair and flung the towel around your shoulder. Your body was cold against the cool air coming into the showers, but you found it pleasant, it made you feel comfortable. You brushed your hair and put on clean briefs and a black sports bra after putting deodorant on. The towel was still draped around your shoulders and neck, catching whatever water droplets left your strands of hair and making sure none of them soaked your bra. You slid your legs through a pair of black leggings, shimmying your hips into them and bending your legs slightly so they could adjust and not fall down.

You shuffled around in your bag and grabbed ahold of your holo device, switching it on as you washed your face in the mirror. You scrolled through the news articles that came up on the holonet, nothing too exciting was going on at the moment apart from the galactic war. A twi’lek presenter was broadcasting the daily reports for the New Republic, her face plastered with a fake smile as she read off the papers sorted nearly in front of her. You watched with a bored expression, listening in loosely as you put on some deodorant and whistled a small song to yourself.

As you rubbed your hair with the towel some more, a small incoming call notification popped up on your holo device and you stopped to look and inspect the number with squinted eyes. It was Thrawn.

Sighing to yourself, you accept the call and turn around to make sure no one’s coming in as his holo image illuminated in front of you on the bathroom sink. You were met with a tired looking Thrawn, now wearing a white long sleeved T-shirt and his hair no longer layered by gel. You looked at one another for a brief second, Thrawn’s scarlet eyes looking down at your torso and realising you were wearing only a sports bra before returning his gaze to yours in a respectful manner, he made no comment.

“Hello again,” Thrawn managed a small, warm smile. You repeated his actions and let the corner of your lip curl up as you ruffled your hair some more with the towel and placed it on the counter of sinks after.

“Hey” You mumbled back, resting your palms on the edge of the sink just so you had something to lean on. Your posture was relaxed but your shoulders seemed tense, that’s what Thrawn noticed as you rolled your neck around your shoulders to relieve some tension. You looked stressed.

“I want to apologise for today, I didn’t realise you were going to be attending” He sighed, fumbling with the hem of his T-shirt sleeves as he kept his eyes on you, doing his best not to look away out of shame. You shook your head, turning around so your hips leaned against the sink.

“It’s alright, I’m not judging you for doing your job” You noted, crossing your arms and smiling in an assuring manner at Thrawn who took some relief towards that, his body relaxing slightly as his eyes grew soft.

“I do feel embarrassed though, I also want to apologise for Pryce” He continued, causing you to cringe and frown at the mentioning of that woman’s name.

“Don’t be sorry for someone who isn’t; you don’t need to cover up her tracks, she worked beside me a few times back when I was an Imperial after all, so I know what kind of person she is” You corrected Thrawn quickly, gaze turning fierce and angry but it wasn’t directed towards him. Your face scrunched up in displeasure for a moment, hands clutching at your bare upper arms and trying to ignore the rising frustration building up inside you.

“She is... dull to work with, so I don’t blame you” Thrawn’s words made you chuckle and nod in agreement, your eyes unconsciously staring at him for a bit too long until you quickly cleared your throat and ran a hand through your scalp.

“It was a pleasant surprise to see you today” Your words projected veracity, and Thrawn felt his heart beat flare up in anticipation at that single comment, even if it wasn’t a massive one. He bit back a smile and nodded his head.

“As with you, Rcati,” Thrawn beamed, some strands of loose navy hair falling in front of his eyes that made your heart skip a beat, or were you just imagining things?

“I must admit, you looked very beautiful, I can’t recall ever seeing you in a dress” Thrawn leaned back with the support of his arms, it made you realise he wasn’t sitting in his chair but maybe the floor? You weren’t sure, but it certainly wasn’t his chair.

“Dresses aren’t my thing, I only need to wear them for the Senate to make a ‘positive impression’” You used your two fingers on each hand to make a sarcastic emphasis on the last part, and it warmed your heart to see Thrawn chuckle in response.

“I know the feeling, it’s all about positive impressions now a days. But how has it been? Being a Senator?” Thrawn looked more and more excited the more he spoke and asked you things, his eyes sparkled with interest and his mouth never stopped curling up as he looked right at you. You reminded yourself that this was the real Thrawn you were talking to, not the Thrawn you saw back at the Senate. As scary as he could he, this was as real as he could get, and you were grateful he showed this side of himself to you, even after years of not speaking to him. The trust was still there.

“It’s been tiring, I’ve not been working recently but all the travelling and meeting new people really drains you” You answered frankly, scratching the back of your neck as Thrawn hummed softly. He seemed to study you in a subtle sense as you awaited his answer, he trapped his chin between his thumb and index finger and his eyes stayed unfocused for a few seconds.

“You hate both of those things, i genuinely can’t believe you took a career as a Senator- I mean, you dreamed of being a soldier your whole life, why not do that with the rebels?” Thrawn’s voice held interest as he tilted his head slightly and a few more strands of his hair fell on his forehead. Thrawn frowned and tried fixing the hairs but gave up soon after they kept falling on his face. You noticed it now, Thrawn’s hair was longer than it was when you worked with him at the Empire. He had it cut much shorter, but now it was at least a few inches longer. Of course it wasn’t as long as his hair used to be on Csilla, but you’d give a lot to see him with that hair again. He suited it more than you wanted to admit.

“The reason is our daughter, and I’m too busy to be a soldier now. The fear of dying in battle and leaving Omani alone terrifies me, I could never do that to her... I’m the only person she has at the moment” Your voice lowered the more you spoke, gaze drifting off to think about the scenario you feared most. Thrawn nodded his head, understanding what you were getting at and doing his best to try and emotionally sympathise with you.

He wasn’t good at emotions, he never was. He feared weakness, and made little to no efforts to connect with anyone in the Empire what so ever. It was a cold life for him, but now he felt he had to do something, anything, to connect with you. He never realised it until you left, but Thrawn liked you, a lot, and not just for the sex or company. If anything, he loved you. And the thought of you disappearing again made him nauseous, completely sick to his stomach with anxiety, and that was something he had never experienced before. Pure and utter dread.

“That’s a fair point, I wouldn’t want her being left alone” Thrawn returned his gaze to you and he took his time to study you until you looked back at him. Your body hadn’t changed that much since he last saw it, but he noticed the stretch marks peeking out of the hem of your leggings, it was obviously from your pregnancy. The sight made his heart swoon.

If there’s one thing Chiss are always proud of, it’s having a family and a mother or father to have their kin. Thrawn’s gotten so used to the fact he was a father throughout the last few days, he forgot about all the worries and concerns he had about the Empire just by looking at Omani’s face. He didn’t even know her, hell, he didn’t even know she existed until recently, but he already felt so much pride. That was his daughter, a daughter that you gave him. And the thought of you looking after Omani for so long, and risking so much to keep her safe, made Thrawn utterly fall in love with you. Not that he wasn’t in love with you before.

“She was at the Senate today as well, wasn’t she?” Thrawn raised a brow, bending his knee up to rest his elbow on it. Okay, he was definitely sitting on the floor, or his bed maybe.

“She was, she saw you and freaked out” You chuckled, making the situation more lighthearted and trying to avoid telling Thrawn about how scared she was, you didn’t want him becoming guilty.

Thrawn sighed. “She smiled at me though, I guess that’s a starting point”. Your smile widened at his comment.

“Omani will come around eventually, hopefully when the war ends, then maybe-“ maybe we could be a family. You cut yourself off before you said anything else, wincing internally after realising you said too much and would probably be questioned by Thrawn about it. Your face was hot with embarrassment and you cleared your throat to waft away the tension.

“Maybe...?” Thrawn persuaded with curiosity, leaning forward and raising his other leg up so he was sitting more comfortably. You looked away from Thrawn and pinched the bridge of your nose, waving away his comment and trying not to get butt hurt about thinking too much about what you desired more than anything in the world.

“Just getting ahead of myself, that’s all” Your voice was quiet but clear enough for the Chiss to hear. You sniffed but no tears were in your eyes, thankfully for your sake. But that didn’t stop Thrawn from wondering desperately what was on your mind. He practically knew you when you were a baby, your parents knew his very well and he bonded with you the moment he met you; him being 5 years old and you, a new born. But when you became an adult, he wanted to know what you were thinking, what you were perhaps feeling, maybe - and hopefully - feelings towards him? He could never crack you, and now he was faced with the same issue.

“I won’t push, but whatever it is, it’s obviously bothering you” You sucked in a breath at Thrawn’s statement. He was right, he knew he was. Were you ready to tell him though? You only spoke to him once before now, after 14 years, but somehow your feelings for him have never changed. If anything they’ve grown stronger now that you’ve got a direct link; Omani.

“It is bothering me, and it has for the longest time... but I don’t think I’m ready to talk about it just yet” You clutched the edge of the sink and ground your teeth, afraid you said too much all together. You felt like keeping your feelings from him was unfair, he done nothing but tell the truth to you and he proved his loyalty to you after saving you and Omani at the Senate. He might have been Empire, but you and Omani being rebels didn’t stop him from protecting either of you from harms way.

“Do you... remember the nights I’d come over to your office, and we’d just talk? Sex or not, but just... being in each other’s company?” It was a strange question, you knew it, but Thrawn wasn’t confused by what you were getting at, he nodded his head and urged you to continue. You chewed the inside of your cheek nervously and raised your hand up to your mouth to bite at your nails. Thrawn noticed this and reached out on the hologram, his blue, illuminated hand reaching out but unfortunately going right through you. He flinched back, his hand slowly returning to his side and his expression falling.

“Those were some of the best memories of my time at the Empire, with you, and only you” You looked at Thrawn with pure sincerity and he knew instantly you were telling the truth. His throat went dry at your confession and for a second he had no clue how to reply, your words caught him so off guard but he didn’t waste too much time coming up with words to respond with.

“The feeling is mutual, Rcati, you’re the only person I’ve really confided in” Thrawn looked conflicted as he let the words slip through his teeth, the hands you weren’t able to see below the hologram were clenched and his knuckles were light blue. He was struggling to get his emotions out, but he loved to hear you do it.

You said nothing in reply to his comment, you only smiled at him. Looking at you now, Thrawn thought you were stunning. You were glowing as you looked at him with such emotion, the tears visible in your eyes even though none of them spilled and the breathtaking smile covering up half of your face. It truly was a wonderful sight to see, it made him realise for the first time in years that he really needed something like this. The Empire was a tough place to work in, he never knew how much he needed you to keep him afloat until this very moment, even the moments before on the hologram.

You were his life, and you always had been, but he was sad that he was only realising that now. He had known you since birth, known you for 42 whole years and now did he know you were his reason. His reason for what? Life. To carry on. To push through the war until it was over and hopefully see you after it was all over. Omani as well. Maker, he needed Omani just as much as he needed you.

“What’s on your mind?” The Chiss asked in a small, quiet voice, as if someone outside was passing by his chamber door. You ruffled your hair once again with the discarded towel on the sink and rolled your neck around your shoulders, sighing pleasantly at the released tension.

“Us” You answered in a hushed whisper, your mouth snapping shut after the word slipped through your teeth and made it’s way to Thrawn’s attention. He smiled at your reply, looking down shyly at his clasped hands before peeking back up, his scarlet gaze piercing right through you. You felt exposed but you didn’t want to hide, he had seen through you many times before.

“Same with me” He seemed to lean in closer through the hologram, you got a sense you were leaning in too and trying to kiss him, but the distant echo of Rebels chatting to each other caused you to whip your head around to the entrance of the comunual showers. Thrawn seemed to hear it as well and his once calm expression was replaced with a disappointed frown. He wasn’t worried of getting caught, he was pissed your time was cut short.

“I have to go” You whispered, looking back to Thrawn with eyes full of reluctance. He nodded once, running a hand through his face and closing his eyes momentarily, you genuinely thought for a second he done that on purpose just to rouse you up, but you brushed it off your shoulder and cleared your throat.

“Till next time, Rcati ton” Thrawn smirked, his fingers still tangled in the back of his scalp as he leaned forward to the holo device to hang up.

“W-wait” You called out just before he hung up, his gaze raised on you once again and he bit back a smile.

“Take care of yourself, for me?” You blushed, head hung low but your eyes were still connected to his. Thrawn’s face softened and he sent you a small curt nod. “Ch'ah tsucarah” He spoke softly, catching you off guard slightly with his sudden use of Cheunh but you chuckled softly in reply.

“Rab nor rah vah k'ir ch'at rihn?” Thrawn tilted his head to the side, his hand playing with the hairs on the back of his neck which stood on edge, he wasn’t anxious, he was just excited at the interaction between you.

“Ch'ah csarcican't, k'ir nah can'a about ch'ah” You chuckled.

“Ch'ah’ll can'a about vah veah ch'otco veah ch'ah ran'as, non ch'pae” Thrawn ushered in a quiet voice, laughing softly as he spoke which made you too laugh.

“Till next time, Mitth’rawn’nuruodo” You nodded, eventually tapping the red button to end the call and feeling a part of yourself leave with Thrawn the moment the bright blue glow of the hologram disappeared, leaving you alone in the refreshers once again and in the unpleasant white light on the ceiling.

“So we’ve got squadrons coming in left and right, we should relocate our star fleet to somewhere where the Empire doesn’t find our base” You said in a clear voice to those standing around the holo table, including Kallus and Zeb, who had recently returned from a mission with the Phoenix squadron. Hera was standing nearby, listening into the negotiation which you were the chairman of currently, listening in to people’s different ideas and hopefully coming to a mutual conclusion.

Kallus was recording down everything being said, typing frantically on his data pad and gathering all of the different ideas from everyone so you could look into it after the meeting and hopssully come up with an idea to settle things. He was a busy man, he worked his ass off and you noticed how much he cared for this rebellion.

He never changed throughout the years, even if he was a cold hearted Imperial once, so were you. You had your fair share of horrid deeds that you certainly weren’t proud of, and neither was Kallus. But you Teo seemed to be like two peas in a pod when it came to planning meetings and getting a mutual agreement. He was your right arm, always.

“I think we should take the fleet outside of the outer rim” Someone came forward, a young zabrak female with full suited soldier uniform and a sniper attached to her back.

“That might be a good idea, but the outer rim has more New Republic ally’s than outside of it. Still, I shall record that down- Kallus” You regarded the blonde man standing opposite you at the table, his dark eyes focused on you in a way you couldn’t quite put your finger on. You held your stare on him for a moment longer than necessary, before turning your attention back to the zabrak who smiled at you, grateful you took her suggestion into consideration.

“Any other ideas?” You asked, eyes looking around the table in one quick glance before turning to Kallus who pursed his lips at the sudden silence that fell on the group.

“I-uh, pardon me for asking Senator, but weren’t you at the Senate negotiations on Naboo yesterday?” A young rebel man raised his hand with a polite expression on his face. You tensed at his question and nodded.

“Is it true? Was Grand Admiral Thrawn really there?” Another rebel asked with a peeked interest, desperation to know about the events that took place yesterday, the events you were trying so hard to stop thinking about. Kallus’ eyes widened and he felt himself tense for you, this wasn’t going to end as well as you and him had planned.

“It’s true” You sighed, resting your hands on the edge of the holo table and trying your best not to look too uncomfortable about the conversation.

“Woah, how did you get out?” The same rebel asked with a look of astonishment, but you didn’t budge. Your face stayed stone cold and you exchanged an uneasy glance with Kallus who cleared his throat and adjusted his T-shirt collar.

“Save those questions for later, I need you all to focus on the fleet, please” You insisted, hitting your hand slightly on the table with your teeth clenched.

From afar, Kanan and Hera looked at one another, knowing fine well what was going on in your head the moment Thrawn’s name was mentioned. The two of them heard about the events at the Senate, and how you were the one who managed to get Thrawn to prevent any arrests from happening. There had been chatter around the rebel base, and Hera was fearing for you. If your secrets got out, you would be untrustworthy amongst the rebels. And that was the last thing she wanted for you, especially with Omani by your side.

“Meeting dismissed, I shall look at the suggestions and come up with something, for the time being please go and get some rest, it’s late” You waved away all of the rebels who had joined the meeting, bidding them farewell with smiles and nods of the head. Kallus stayed with you and walked around the table once the rebels were away, resting a hand on your shoulder and waiting for you to say something. Instead of words, you unexpectedly grabbed Kallus and wrapped your arms around him, tears brimming at your eyes and lip quivering as you gripped onto his jacket and sniffed. Kallus froze for a second but placed his data pad on the holo table, wrapping his strong arms around you tight and raising a hand to stroke your head.

“It’s alright, shh...” He soothed, rubbing your back and holding onto you as you fought back an army’s tears that started to spill down your face.

“I’m sorry, it’s just been really stressful recently” You cried softly, holding onto Kallus for dear life as he leaned his chin on the top of your head and closed his eyes, the smallest crease next to his eyebrow as he listened to your sobs.

“You don’t need to apologise for anything, just let it out” He encouraged, continuing to stroke your head and doing his best to comfort you.

Leaning back, you looked up at Kallus with glossy eyes, cheeks stained with fallen tears and face hot with humiliation. Kallus cupped your cheek, studying your face before frowning at your state and sighing.

“What’s got you so worked up? Is it Thrawn?” Kallus asked with calm articulation, his hands keeping you in place as you wiped away your tears and nodded your head weakly. You couldn’t verbally say anything in fears you would start crying, and Kallus seemed to understand that. Beneath the worried expression on his face, he was angry. He knew he was going for the wrong person, he knew you’d never be over Thrawn.

But he loved you, as much as he didn’t want to admit it. Ever since Kallus met you on the grounds of the Imperial Palace 16 years ago, far before you fell pregnant, he was smitten with you. Even if he was a higher rank than you, and trained you, and was meant to see you as a mere soldier and nothing more, Kallus always had a soft spot for you.

“I’m going to regret this” Kallus murmured, right before pressing his lips against yours and causing you to freeze in his arms. Your eyes shot wide open, you weren’t expecting this at all. His actions were so sudden and the feeling of his lips against yours made your brain cloud over with endless thoughts. It was nice being kissed, it always had been, but this wasn’t right.

Even though it wasn’t as good as a kiss from Thrawn, you closed your eyes and kissed him back, maybe just to feel something aside from the stress. You hesitantly cupped Kallus’ cheek and tapped it a few times, signalling for him to pull away. You didn’t want the kiss to go any further, you didn’t want to lead him on, and by the looks of it he knew what he had done was a mistake.

“That was nice” You commented with an assuring smile, stroking his cheek with your thumb and making him chuckle awkwardly at your words.

“I’m sorry, I felt like if I didn’t do that any sooner I’d beat myself up” He hung his head low, frowning and probably mentally strangling himself, but you didn’t like the way he looked so sad. He knew you didn’t feel the same way towards him, maybe you did like Kallus, but you weren’t over Thrawn. Either way, you tilted his chin up and kissed him once more. The blonde man sighed against your lips and closed his eyes momentarily before grabbing your hand and taking it away from his face, eventually pulling back once again and frowning.

“What was that for?” Kallus raised a brow, looking confused but also amused at the same time.

“I wanted to even things out” You smiled, nudging him playfully to try and get rid of some of the tension surrounding you both. He seemed to be pleased by your comment and laughed. The sting of rejection was soothed by your kindness and Kallus realised that you didn’t feel any different about your friendship with him. But still, it hurt.

“Are we gonna have to start giving each other goodnight kisses now? Cuz if so-“ You joked.

“No, don’t be silly- unless that’s what you want of course” Kallus joked back with a relaxing demeanour. You rolled your eyes at his comment and shoved him playfully, eventually bringing him in for a hug once again and feeling shitty for not feeling the same towards Kallus.

“Well that was weird” Hera whispered to Kanan and Zeb who were watching from afar. The two men nodded in agreement, confused stares on their faces as they watched you depart from the ex-ISB agent and make your way to your chambers.

How weird, indeed.

#star wars #x reader #grand admiral thrawn #thrawn x reader #thrawn #star wars rebels

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plantvenuss · 4 years

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May the best man win | Mandalorian x black! reader

Summary: You and the Mandalorian have had extremely suffocating tensions for months that only seemed to be brewing past boiling point. With the both of you competing for best bounty hunter what will the Mandalorian do when he finds out that you’ve gotten his catch before he did?

WARNINGS: VIOLENCE, MENTIONS OF BLOOD, MENTIONS OF ASSAULT AND MENTIONS OF SHOOTING.

“Grab her.” A tall man with dark blue slick back hair grimaced, as the girl he had targeted moments prior squirmed against the grip of his friend who had ripped her from her seat at the booth.

You watched as his muscles rubbed against the material of his clothes, you studied him carefully, making sure that he did not sense your darting eyes from the booth right across from the helpless woman's.

Two blasters and a hidden pocket knife in the pocket of his leather jacket. His boots were pointy and black and his trousers were rough and tight, you sat up straighter when his red eyes looked around to see if anyone else would try to challenge him, you wanted him to see you- you needed him to see you if you wanted this to work.

His bright red eyes caught yours as you slammed your empty shot glass against the wooden table, the sound echoed throughout the rest of the bar and people in other booths peeped out of their hidden corners to see what had happened, you kept your eyes trained on him, however. You needed to predict his next movements.

“and what are you lookin’ at?” he asked raising his chin to the challenge.

He strode over to your booth before shooting his friend who was still at the entrance a jokey expression, you slipped your eyes away from him, reaching over the table to grab another shot. He smiled lazily, thinking he had won this little game you were playing, his teeth were a dark yellow and the edges of his teeth were razor sharp- if you weren’t so confident that you’d catch this slug, you’d cringe at the sight of his confidence.

He grabbed your wrist, confidence still wrapping itself all around him. In a moment your eyes were back on him and your free hand hand grabbed the one that latched itself onto your wrist, tugged him forward and his grip loosened completely, setting your wrist free.

With your free’d hand, you reached up and grabbed a fistful of his dark blue hair and slammed his head against the wooden table. The table chipped under the forceful impact and the man fell backwards, blood spilling against the floor as he backed as far away from you as he could.

You took out your two blasters and pointed the both of them at his friend who was still at the entrance with the girl, trembling at the sight of what you had done.

You motioned toward the door with your blaster, and then back to him. He swallowed and sprinted out of the door when you nodded. The girl with wobbly legs sat in the booth and tried to calm herself down, thanking you with her eyes

You snatched the last shot from the tray and downed it, the strong liquid burned furiously against your throat and you had to clear it to subside the pain. You scattered enough credits on the table and made a move towards the exit, making sure to drag the unconscious man by the hem of his leather jacket.

When you had made it less than two steps out of the bar, a blaster clicked beside your head and you sighed at the familiarity of the presence behind it.

“Not so fast, [Y/N].” He said, his voice crisp and clear from behind his helmet, you felt tempted to move your head to look at him, but by the tone of his voice you could tell that he was already agitated and far from wanting to play this game that the two of you had been playing for the past few months.

“you just never give up, do you?” You asked, pressing your own gun that you had drawn against the amour that covered his stomach.

All you needed to do now was get to your ship and you’d be free.

With one uneasy glance toward your ship you could see that it was less than twenty feet away, It sat glistening in the hot sun of Tatooine, waiting patiently to be whirred once life again.

He remained silent, pressing the blaster deeper into your temple. You rolled your eyes at his pathetic attempt to bestow fear on you, you would’ve thought he knew better by now.

Much to his surprise you tucked your blaster away and continued to walk forward, uninterested in wasting anymore time with him, you needed to exchange this person for credits before he could take him from you, again.

“He’s mine.” You called out behind your shoulder as you continued to walk to your ship, you were much closer to the ship now but the feeling that grew in your stomach the closer you were getting toward it made you feel extremely unsettled.

You opened the latch to your ship and hid the man where you were sure he couldn’t see him, you could feel that he was hot on your tail so you got off the ship and stood in his way before he could take him away from you.

“That’s my catch and I’m not playing games, today.”

You were punching in the code to securely shut the latch so it would be harder for him to get on the actual ship, when you caught sight of something shiny against the leg of your ship, you smiled to yourself before standing face-to-helmet with him, your arms crossed.

“Well, then today’s your lucky day because I’m not playing any games either, Din.” You said very matter of factly, drawing out your blaster and shooting at the space just below the tip of his toes.

Caught by surprise he jumped back, quickly pulling out his own blaster and wasting no time to shoot you.

The sound of both your blasters firing off filled the market and people around you scattered hurriedly to escape the chaos. Jumping on board as your ship lifted on its own you sat dangerously close to the edge of the opening of your ship and continued to fire at him as you watched his figure reduce to a small dot. His shot pierced the side of your ship and air hissed out the exposed opening of metal. You shot the shiny latch that was on the leg of your ship and watched as it fell on the ground beside his own ship which was now ascending to ride right beside yours.

You scrambled to get to the cockpit, once you did you prepared to jump to light speed when your radio started buzzing.

“..[Y/N],” He said firmly, you pressed your lips together and fumbled with the radio before answering him.

“You’re causing a scene, did you know that?” you asked as a form of distraction, you fiddled with the controls preparing to jump to light speed, when his ship collided with yours with such force that you found yourself spiraling out of control.

You had lost complete dominance over your grip of the ship that you were sure that you were done for, sounds were blaring, things were hissing and the sound of metal was popping furiously from outside your ship.

He was firing at you.

When you had gained control of your ship, you had found that your ship was directly positioned above Din’s ship, if not a few centimetres from it. If you were to jump to light speed now his ship could crush under the force of the jump or explode to pieces, but after the damage he had done to your ship you could care less.

That and you knew he'd make it either way, because he always did.

So you pushed forward and jumped. It went as quick as it came and you waited to hear something from the other side of the buzzing radio. A static buzz filled the air as your fingers clenched and un clenched.

“I’ll find you, [Y/N],” He finally said, and you let out a sigh of relief, you sped to your destination with firm smile at his promise.

“Yeah, you work on that while i exchange my catch for credits.” you hummed shutting off the radio.

When you were less than a mile away from your dropping point you felt a whiz that brushed your ship to the side, you smiled knowingly and looked out the side of your window to see Din gliding right beside you and staring at you from behind his mask.

“May the best man win.”

#the mandalorian #mando x you #x black reader #x black!reader #mandalorian x reader #star wars #black reader x mandalorian #pedro pascal x black reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #star wars x reader

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rwood2477 · 3 years

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Killing a soulless Marxist animal is the same as stepping on a cockroach 🪳

Gotta get rid of this Marxist infestation

#democratsareevil #democratshateamerica #biden corruption #biden crime family #communist party of china

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eirian-houpe · 3 years

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Disparate Pathways - Chapter 29

Read previous chapters on AO3

Chapter 29 - Wolf At the Door

Belle pulled her lip between her teeth as she turned her gaze from one man in the room to the other. The tension was palpable, almost suffocating, and it only served to redouble the desire she had to be out of the doctor’s office and… well… anywhere else.

She winced slightly as the doctor, a man called Whale, whose narrow eyes beneath a shock of sandy hair that was too dark even to be called a dirty blond, and too light to be brown, was currently staring at her chest while his touch felt, admittedly gentle, if not perhaps hesitant. He pressed softly on the slightly puffy skin either side of the long, jagged tear that ran from her shoulder and in to the curve of her bosom, and made the kind of concerned sounds that doctors too often made. Eventually he looked up and spoke.

“I’m… con—” he cleared his throat as Gold took a step forward from the corner, where he’d been standing with his cane grounded between his feet. “I’m concerned about the possibility of infection,” Whale tried again, “So I’m going to prescribe a course of antibiotics that should take care of both this, and the injuries to your hands-Mister Gold, I really would rather you—”

“Miss French wanted me here,” he Gold interrupted, “so here I am.”

Whale sighed, but nodded, then reached out to the tray beside the examination couch, where all of the wipes, ointments and dressings had been laid out for him to take care of her injuries. Belle closed her eyes as he began, zoning out to let herself become lost in the sounds of the hospital that filtered in even through the closed door.

How different things were, how un-solid the ground beneath her feet. She couldn’t even dare to allow herself to question, “what if,” even though the thoughts began to spiral unbidden through her mind. What if she hadn’t gone out with her mother that day? What if men like Jefferson hadn’t raided The Cartel’s nest of vipers? What if Jefferson hadn’t been the man he was, and able to get her out? The vortex inside of her became overwhelming, and a sob escaped her, she was powerless to stop it.

“Almost done,” Whale’s voice murmured, drawing her at least part way back to the moment, the present, back to Storybrooke.

She opened her eyes, and found herself held, for that moment, in Gold’s eyes, but wishing for the security of his arms with one last thought bouncing back and forth between the two of them. What if Jefferson hadn’t brought her to Gold?

This was a win, wasn’t it?

He reminded himself of it with each blow that landed - that he allowed to land. He reminded himself of that. He’d reminded himself of that with every aggressive, pointed question they threw at him in the interview room - that he could, but wouldn’t answer because… hell, they wouldn’t give him his phone call. He had to call his handler. He’d reminded himself of that after they let him call Rab, and as usual the man was worse than useless - except that somehow he’d gotten him out - finally.

When they let him go - some joke. Let him go - reminded him just what they thought of him. When he got out, he walked. He had no real notion of where he was going - if anywhere at all was a specific destination. Just that he walked, besides which, he wasn’t about to try and get back to his car. He figured Rab would already have had it towed anyway. He would just text his handler whenever he was ready, and let the man pick it up for him from the bureau lot.

Jefferson hurt. He hurt like hell… in part his own fault, because he’d refused to see the precinct’s doctor. It was one thing to have gotten bumped and bruised along the way, but whatever had been said to the cops, and he assumed that it would have been some variation on the instruction to, ‘make it look real,’ he couldn’t help but think that they had gone at him with a little too much enthusiasm. No one on the force liked a Fed anyway, and an undercover Fed?

He paused, wincing, in the doorway of an all night pharmacy as one of the customers came out, muttering something under his breath about ‘thugs’ as he set eye on Jefferson. He guessed, by that reaction, that he much look as bad as he felt. He knew his lip was split, and he could already feel the new swelling in his cheek. The heels of his hands were all torn up too, and there was a rip in his jeans from where the beat cop had tripped him on the back stairs and he’d gone skating down the last two or three concrete steps when he missed the rail and couldn’t catch himself in time, not that he thought his shoulder could have taken it anyway.

“This was a win, wasn’t it?” he whispered to himself; a step in the right direction. He’d gotten the witness - Belle - he reminded himself that she had a name. He’d gotten her to safety and, absent knowing who he could trust any more, she wouldn’t be talking to anyone other than Gold, and him when the time was right.

Stopping again, he leaned against a concrete bollard, bending down to press the knuckles of his thumbs into his eyes, scrubbing at them until he felt composed and better able to see where he was going; where the fuck he was, even. He let out a mirthless chuckle that almost broke him again as he read the street name - Peace Street. Another twenty or thirty minutes in the direction he was walking and he would reach his secondary apartment, his bolt hole. His own little haven of peace.

He pulled the cell phone from his inside jacket pocket and let his fingerprint unlock it, then scrolled through his message contacts until he found the one he was looking for and before hitting send quickly typed out, Can we talk?

Call in ten?

The answer came back almost immediately, and his heart skipped. He hadn’t expected that.

Make it 20 he typed, adding, I’m walking home.

He didn’t expect another answer, so he slipped the phone back into his pocket then began walking again. By the time he’d reached the apartment building, a few more aches and pains had made themselves known. All he wanted to do was soak it all away in a scalding hot shower. The niggling ache in his right knee, beneath his ripped jeans, was almost enough to make him take the elevator. He didn’t though, and as usual took the stairs almost two at a time, picking up speed in his longing to just shut the door on the world, take a day or two to gather himself before he threw himself right back in.

He wasn’t sure he could even allow himself to do that, but this was a win.

Wasn’t it?

They left the hospital some time later. Belle felt worn out and sore. However, when Gold suggested he run her home before going to open his shop, she shook her head and said softly, “No need. I have to go to the pharmacy to pick up the prescription anyway, and it will be… nice to have company.”

She didn’t want to tell him she didn’t want to be alone, but she guessed that he had worked it out anyway, because he studied her face for what seemed like a long time, and she could almost see the wheels turning behind his eyes.

“Very well,” he said, and though he seemed to agree, she didn’t miss the concern behind the apparently passive expression on his face. “Just tell Mister Clarke that he can charge the prescription to my account, and I will meet you at my shop once you’re done.”

“Rein,” she answered in service to that expression, rather than anything else. “You told me I was safe here. In Storybrooke.”

“Indeed,” he said softly as they reached the car. “And you are.”

“And yet still you worry,” she accused gently.

He let out a soft little chuckle at that, before he said, “I take my responsibility very seriously, Miss French.” Then, pausing to open the door for her before going round to the driver’s side and climbing in himself, he said, “You’ve had a long morning, that’s all.”

Moved by his concern as he expressed it, she reached over and covered his hand as he reached for the gear shift. “Thank you,” she said, “but perhaps the normalcy of shopping, and the walk, will do me good.”

“As you wish,” he gave her a respectful nod before pulling away to drive toward Dark Star Pharmacy.

Darkness did little to hide the mess the take down had made of the Cartel’s former home. It was worse than even Jefferson expected. In just the few days it had taken him to find the stamina to attempt to re-insert himself, the broken windows of the house had been boarded up and it looked as though there had been fires set in some parts of the building. He knew none of the Cartel’s people would be there, just as he knew he probably shouldn’t be. He should have found another way to make contact with them and get back in, but a strange kind of fascination had drawn him back. Maybe he just wanted to see for himself the results of the cluster fuck that had been visited on what had been his work for the last decade. Or perhaps just self-sabotage? The thought didn’t sit well with him. He felt bubbling emotions threatening to overwhelm him again as he looked around the grounds, the rest of the building, all festooned with ‘crime scene’ tape which he entirely disregarded with extreme prejudice.

As the flash lit up the whole of the house, he started counting under his breath, keeping time with what he knew was standard procedure. This wasn’t standard. The explosive pounding of the ram followed too quickly after the percussive flash.

“Fuck!” he hissed. It was definitely wrong, and he knew - without a doubt - that he was on his own; that he couldn’t risk identifying himself to the incoming amalgam of law enforcers. No one would know him.

Once inside, and having made a quick tour of the first floor, he forced himself to check out the basement spaces. He didn’t expect anyone to still be down there either. Even bent, law enforcement would have taken the victims out and to a place of safety, at least he hoped like fuck they had, but still, stepping down into the darkened space felt like a descent into hell itself.

”Bitch! She bit me!”

“She needs to be taught how to behave.”

“No… Jefferson. No!” The words where a whispered admonition to himself, to his memory. He’d seen too many terrible things go down in that basement, and had been able to do anything about too few of them, but he couldn’t let himself go there. Not now. Not when there was so much riding on him being able to put it aside; until he was back on the inside, where even what little he could do would make a difference - bring things one step closer to a resolution.

There was nothing in the basement, no trace, no evidence, and the file cabinets were a blackened mess standing beside an empty gas can. It told him all he needed to know, so he headed back up to the first floor, and then continued on up.

He took the stairs with his usual two-at-a-time gait, at least at first, but soon tired. Too soon he found the jostling of the many cuts and bruises over his body worsened the aches and sickening pain, slowing his pace as he made his way along the second floor landing.

He hurried out of the room, along to the next - empty, though from the cloud of cigarette smoke in one corner, it hadn’t been for long. This was what he’d warned Rab about. This was what threatened to make the last ten years of his life a complete and total waste. The losses, and the sacrifices he’d made, all for nothing.

He broke the tape on a particular upstairs room. Even in the darkness that black stain on the floor was visible, and the CSSU hadn’t bothered to clear away their evidence markers. He couldn’t help but wonder where they’d have taken Colette’s corpse, or whether Belle would ever get the chance to reclaim and bury her mother.

He crouched beside the spot that marked the place where she had taken her last breath.

It didn’t take the spreading stain of blood around her to know that there was no way she was going to make it, even if he could get her help. He knelt beside her, reaching for her neck. She had a pulse, but it was weak, thready and already faltering. He went to pull his hand away, and started as the woman’s weak grasp latched on to his wrist and her eyes flickered open.

“I knew you weren’t…” she rasped, fighting for breath. “Somehow I… knew.”

“Colette,” he breathed, “I’m sorry, I can’t—”

She released his wrist and reached up to lay her fingertips against his lips, to stop him speaking as she took another labored breath. “Not… your…” she said weakly. Another breath and then, “Belle… she ran… but…”

“Sshh,” he said softly, “Don’t talk. Just…” He swallowed.

“It’s all right,” she whispered. “I know. Did this… for Belle… get away.” Jefferson closed his eyes for a moment, his jaw tightening as the sense of failure washed over him. His eyes came open as Colette spoke again, “Help… her.”

He gave her a tight half smile.

“I promise,” he answered, not even knowing if he could keep that promise, but it was little enough that he could do. He’d try. Colette smiled up at him.

“Go,” she whispered, and closed her eyes. “Don’t wait… with me. Go.”

She gave him an ineffectual push, and he sat back on his heels for a moment, in spite of her words watching her breathing slow. Hitch. Stop.

He skimmed his fingertips in the air barely above where he remembered she lay, experiencing again the sense of failure that brought the echo of a half cry of impotence, rage smoldering inside of him… Ten years. Ten fucking impossible years.

He pushed to his feet, then froze at the sound of the voice behind him and the tone in which he spoke the final word.

“Bit of a bloody mess, isn’t it… mate?”

Jones.

Given their last encounter, he didn’t imagine the other man would be pleased to see him, nor would he likely harbor anything but suspicion.

“More than a little,” he answered, before slowly turning the full glory of the mess he was in Jones’ direction, squinting against the harsh glare of the flashlight Jones now trained on him.

“Rather like you then,” Jones gestured up and down Jefferson’s body with his artificial hand - not currently tipped in a hook, but in a black leather glove, an artificial hand in which said flashlight was gripped. Jefferson’s eyes flicked to his other hand, and back to the man’s face. As he predicted, Jones was armed, and from what he’d been able to see in the brief glance, and the dim light, the safety was off. He hadn’t expected any sympathy, but he’d hoped the beating he’d taken might have mitigated his circumstances at least a little - gone even a breath of a way to allay suspicion.

“Been worse,” he said with a shrug that pulled at his shoulder and sent a wave of pain through him. He grunted and hissed, “Son-of-a-bitch!”

“You knew,” Jones accused, gesturing toward him with the handgun.

Jefferson felt a sick feeling in the pit of his belly, and a slight ringing started in his ears. He began to wonder if there was any chance in hell that he could reach for the gun holstered beneath his coat before Jones could take a shot. He doubted it.

He swallowed, Another gambit then. He stared at Jones as if he didn’t understand, and then after only a moment broke out into a brittle, slightly hysterical laughter.

It wasn’t entirely fake. Once he started, the tension in him fueled his very real emotion. Fear for himself, fear that he might never see his daughter again. A terrible sense of failure flushing through him. He laughed until he couldn’t breathe, and then the tears came. He tried to wipe them away, pull himself together, but with each successive swipe of his face, uncaring of the added pain the action caused, a new thought surfaced.

“It wasn’t that way, man,” his voice was broken, hitched around the tears, and with the last of his rationality; the last desperate grasp at maintaining his cover sobbed, “Couldn’t do it again… inside, I—” He lost the battle against the tears, still swiping at his face as he all but doubled over.

“All right… fuck!” Jones shifted, obviously uncomfortable at his display. “Knock it off!”

He wanted to stop, he did, because he knew how vulnerable he was leaving himself with his lack of control, but he couldn’t help it. The thought of Grace without him forever had been his undoing and now…

He should have listened to last night’s pillow talk. He needed more time. He wasn’t ready and Jordan had said as much. Too late now; he was committed, but Jesus Christ he should have fucking listened.

When the touch came, the fall of a hand on his shoulder, he lashed out wildly and without any true target, an insane roundhouse swing. Jones ducked under it, and he vaguely heard the way the man called out to him, each successive phrase coming closer to breaking through the madness until…

“Jared. Jared! Easy, mate. Bloody hell!” Jefferson pulled up short, breathing hard, his wild eyes slowly regaining their focus and shrewd intelligence once more. He saw Jones, in front of him, standing with both hands raised to prove his lack of threat. “What happened to you?”

“Get me the fuck out of here,” he murmured, his voice still trembled on the edge of emotion, “and I’ll tell you. Everything.”

Belle took a moment to look around as Gold dropped her in front of Dark Star Pharmacy. So far she hadn’t seen much at all of Storybrooke, except while driving through it, and most of that had been in the dark. To her, it seemed like a perfect haven of peace after the craziness that had been Boston, and with that thought held in her mind, she pushed open the door and stepped into the store.

Not just a pharmacy, but also a kind of general store, the inside was neatly organized, and while not spotless was a clean white color that instilled a sense of confidence - the exact kind that she needed just then.

Turning abruptly from a display she was perusing, she collided with a taller, solid form, jarring her shoulder and causing her to wince loudly.

“I am so sorry,” a warm, female voice surrounded her as surely as gentle hands cupped her upper arms to steady her. “I wasn’t looking where I was going and--”

Belle looked up at her as she suddenly stopped talking, taking in the kindly face, the long brown hair that was brought to life by the deep red streak running down one side of it, the sharp nose and wide, red-painted mouth that was rapidly resolving into a large, bright smile. The woman was dressed in a tight white t-shirt, and an extremely short, short skirt over sheer pantyhose that sheathed her long legs.

“Wait,” the woman suddenly started talking again. “You must be Mister Gold’s…”

“I…” she hesitated to answer as the woman struggled with what to call her, considering whether she should try and spin some kind of story to maintain her anonymity, but something about the woman made her want to tell the truth. “I am… but--”

“Oh, oh… the woman said, “I’m sorry. I’m Ruby.”

“Ruby Lucas?” Belle asked, remembering the conversation she and Gold had in the kitchen that morning.

”They suit you,” Gold said softly as Belle moved into the kitchen. “The clothes.”

“Thank you,” she answered, trying not to let the blush color her cheeks to excess. “Where did they come from, anyway?” A knot of discomfort began to form between her shoulders at the thought that they may once have belonged to someone in Gold’s life. A girlfriend, wife. She didn’t know why that should bother her so much, but it did. Neither did she even want to think about the possibility that they had belonged to a daughter, not given some of the snippets she could remember from her tangled dreams.

“Ah,” Gold answered, sounding quite sage as he slid the glass of orange juice across the table toward her and nodded to the chair. “I must confess a minimum of involvement in securing such a suitable wardrobe,” he said, then explained, “I enlisted the assistance of Miss Lucas. She works in her grandmother’s diner.”

Something in the way Gold was so casual as he spoke of this ‘Miss Lucas’ led Belle to believe that there was more to the arrangement than met the eye. She pulled her lip between her teeth, her imagination running away with her as to what that might be.

“I’ve known Widow Lucas and her granddaughter since I first came to Storybrooke,” he explained, setting down a perfect omelet on a plate in front of Belle. The scent of it made her stomach growl. “Whatever the elder might have to say about Miss Lucas’ sense of propriety when it comes to dress,” he gestured toward Belle as he finished his thought, “she has proven herself to be more than competent.”

“That’s me!” Ruby gave her a smile, all lipstick and teeth, though it was warm and friendly. “Let me help you with that,” she added, taking the prescription from Belle’s hand and then guiding her through the store towards the counter.

“There’s no need, really I--”

“Hey, it’s the least I can do when I nearly took you off your feet,” Ruby interrupted.

“Thank you,” Belle told her softly, warming to Ruby even though she was like an energetic whirlwind, and was almost making her head spin. “For getting me the clothes, and the other things.”

She’d been surprised when Gold took her up to her room the previous day, and she’d found clothes and toiletries, essentials that she had no idea whether Gold would have thought to get for a woman - since she knew so little about the man - and was truly touched that everything she could possibly need was there. He might not have known what she would need exactly, but his thoughtfulness in enlisting Ruby’s help made her feel even more toward him than she knew she should.

“After speaking with Agent Milnor, I asked Miss Lucas to help me gather things you might need,” he told her. “I thought you might appreciate a woman’s touch.”

Then, here was said woman, met completely by chance, who, to Belle, felt like a full on breath of fresher air, once again helping her out.

“You’re welcome,” Ruby told her with another smile and a gentle squeeze to her upper arm. “I’m glad I could help, and if you need anything else, you come and find me. I work at the diner.”

“Mister Gold said,” Belle answered, as they reached the counter and Ruby set down the prescription beside the pharmacist, who hurried away to fill it, with a look of mild alarm on his face.

“Actually, you should come over anyway,” Ruby told her, “to the diner, I mean. Granny serves a mean lasagna, though personally I’d recommend the burgers.”

“Granny?” Belle couldn’t help but smile at the familial nickname, rather than the formal title.

“She really is my grandmother, but everyone around here calls her Granny,” Ruby said, and looked as though she was going to add something more, but the pharmacist returned and placed a paper bag onto the counter.

“That will be thirty one, thirty, please,” the man - by his name tag, Tom Clarke - said.

“Mister Gold-” Belle began, but was again cut off by Ruby.

“I got it,” she said, and fished two crumpled twenties from her pocket, and handed them to Mister Clark. “It’s fine, you can pay me back later.”

“That’s… very kind,” Belle felt herself growing a little emotional at this other woman, a total stranger to her and yet, so friendly.

Ruby shook her head, though obviously not to deny her words. “Come on, I’ll walk you back to Gold’s shop,” she said, and Belle was glad she didn’t make a bigger thing about it; simply wrapped her arm across her waist and led her back out into the street.

#rumbelle #implied noncon #implied drug use #implied torture #violence #gun violence #angst #hurt/comfort #Emotional Hurt/Comfort #UST #eventual smut #drama/romance #whump #disparate pathways #i will always write jefferson

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sarunohadaki · 3 years

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DQXI/The Last of Us Part II Crossover

Crossover week: Home | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 |

Enter a fic idea that started because I was thinking of luminerik in a zombie apocalypse when I realized there was already a game I could plop them into! I really enjoyed The Last of Us and, to a greater extent, TLOU Part II, although to be fair I only watched playthroughs of them.

They’re action-packed and emotionally driven, especially the sequel.

More under the cut for another longer post. Content warnings for depictions of violence, death, zombies, that sort of thing. Spoilers for The Last of Us 1 and 2, some DQXI canon parallels, and a potential future Saru fic (though doubtful).

Rating: M. For sure M.

Pairings: luminerik. Some friendships I haven’t figured out yet. Is it possible to throw in a slowburn and have this be an action/adventure fic? Who knows.

Premise: Eleven is Ellie in this, nice and simple. He’s the child who is immune to the Cordyceps virus that rapidly infects a shit ton of the human population and leads him to go on a whole adventure at the tender age of 13 or so.

However, this fic would take a lot from the events of TLOU II, when El is older. I have no idea what the main theme of this fic would be. In TLOU II, it was revenge.

About revenge…

Ellie’s father figure is murdered in front of her, the same man who took away her chance to help the world by him saving her from her self-sacrifice at the end of TLOU. Ellie felt like her life didn’t matter anymore because Joel took her life’s purpose away from her, but she was going to try to forgive him. Before Ellie could do that, Joel was murdered. Held down and beaten to death with a golf club while Ellie was forced to watch.

Ellie must have felt guilty about that— for holding her grudge over an aging man’s head for so long, a man who wanted her to live and be happy. And that just makes her angrier after witnessing his death.

The Eleven I know would never resort to murder, and he doesn’t have the same harshness to his character as Ellie did in TLOU. However, given the right circumstances, anyone can probably break. I just don’t know that I can replicate the same emotions and motives Ellie had behind her actions, or the relationship she held for Joel. There’s nobody like Joel in DQXI as far as I can throw it.

So, yeah! I’ve seen mention before of AUs where Jasper or Hendrik are Eleven’s father figures, and I could see that as more likely than Chalky or Rab slotting in for Joel in this. But also, Jasper, Hendrik, etc., would slot in very well as replacing Abby.

A bit of plot

The fic begins with Erik and Mia foraging for firewood in a snowy forest. They’ve been traveling for years with a posse of older men who keep them around as lackeys and possible zombie bait. You know, because people are horrible. The posse had picked up Erik and Mia when they were barely teens; that’s when the infection had started and the siblings hadn’t had much choice in whether they were going to go with the men or not, considering the alternative was likely death.

Anyway, when Erik and Mia return to camp, they find they have a new visitor! It’s a boy, gagged up to a chair in the center of the room. He has a bruise across his forehead and doesn’t look too happy about the arrangement.

Erik’s shocked at this new development, but it’s not his place to ask questions. Good thing he doesn’t have to, because soon enough there’s another stranger knocking at their door. And they want Eleven back.

Which. You can imagine how that exchange goes. The stranger gets what they want, although not without shedding some blood in the process. It’s not like Erik is one to complain so long as he and his sister are safe, and they do survive the ensuing shootout, despite almost being used as a meat shield at some point.

Eleven urges his savior — a family friend — to take Erik and Mia in, and they relent. I don’t know who saves Eleven. I know Eleven probably lives in Jackson with others who all treat each other like family.

And that’s all I’ve got. The plot unravels from there. The only other thing I have in my notes is obligatory sexual tension, gore, some close calls with the infected, and Eleven’s big reveal that he is immune to zombie chomps. (Full disclosure, I don’t think Erik would feel betrayed by the news.)

More overarching plot

I don’t know if Eleven sets off on a revenge plot like Ellie did in the games but hey, I’m here for that. He has a dark side he doesn’t show the others (Darkspawn, anyone?). That, or he wants to search for another doctor (one Joel didn’t murder thankyouverymuch) to help him save the world by developing a vaccine.

As I mentioned before, Jasper, Hendrik, etc. could be Group B in this fic, replacing Abby. I am so sorry to them if this fic closely followed TLOU II’s plot because that means pretty much none of that team is going to come out of this fic alive.

I DO like the idea of Erik agreeing to go on an adventure with Eleven in exchange for letting Mia stay in Jackson. So, Eleven obvs agrees and lets Erik join him. Imagine Erik unknowingly joining a revenge/murder plot and seeing his new friend slowly losing his sanity as he gets lost in the sauce of killing people. That would be terrible! Particularly if Erik said, “Sure, I’ll follow you while you do whatever” and only later discovers El’s darker motives.

The Obligatory Luminerik

No one ever needs a reason for romance in a fic but by god it was in TLOU II canonically anyway so that’s all the reason I need. Give me two boys gently mending each other’s injuries after fights. Meaningful glances over campfires and tag-teaming to overcome obstacles while traveling together. Give me that sad as all Hell guitar solo with Ellie singing to Dina only make it Eleven singing softly while Erik’s heart shatters into a billion pieces and— agh. If you don’t know how that love story ends, I don’t have the heart to tell you.

(P.s. oh I forgot to mention that El's parents were probably tragically murdered in front of him by a clicker that had heard their noise, and therefore El has residual trauma from it. Might be selectively mute or just afraid to speak around anybody really, to the point that others think he's "slow" whereas he doesn't give a shit what other people think about it and probably hasn't told anyone about the parent-murdered thing.)

#violence #death #Crossover Week #my fic ideas #my writing #the last of us #dqxi

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theforgottenmcrmy · 2 years

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After All (Part 5/?)

Pairing: Riff x OC Jet Girl

Warnings: Explicit Language, Racism, Suggestions of Violence

Summary: He’d been attached to her once, and here she was, still proving to be a thorn in his side even after all this time.

Word Count: 7300 ish.

DISCLAIMER (Please read before proceeding if you haven’t already done so.)

Please note that this is a reimagining of the film West Side Story (2021) and as a result is slightly AU.

Masterlist /// Part 1 /// Part 4 /// Part 5 /// Part 6

A/N: I know the GIF isn’t Riff, please don’t come for me. Thank you all again for the likes, comments, and support. I’m sorry about the length and the amount of dialogue in this one, but I hope the next part makes up for it. I’m so excited to get working on it. If you feel so inclined, please feel free to like if you enjoyed. :) You can find part 4 here.

Part 5: A Sign of Good Faith

The walk back to the shop was an unusually quiet one. Fortunately, they didn’t cross any Sharks. Who knows what might’ve happened if they had.

When they finally made it back to the shop, Riff muttered something about wanting to work on the shop’s books for a bit. He promptly headed upstairs to the apartment, and shut the door behind him firmly. The thud of it echoed throughout the otherwise quiet garage.

Action, Mouthpiece, A-Rab, Snowboy, and Diesel, and Gee-Tar, who had followed Riff back to the shop, stared up at the landing in silence.

“So, uh… what’s the protocol for this?” Mouthpiece asked no one in particular.

“What do you mean?” Action asked him. “Riff gave us an order. Roxie is no longer associated with us.”

“Right,” Snowboy acknowledged carefully. “But that was before-”

“Before what?” Action demanded, his voice raising. “Before she left to go to some fancy schmancy university and tried to forget where she came from? Some good that did her. She was gone for what, a year?”

A-Rab held up a finger hesitantly. “I don’t think-”

“She’s gone for a bit, and suddenly all’s forgiven? We’re just supposed to forget about what happened to Riff?” Action demanded hotly, looking at all of the guys expectantly. When none of them immediately agreed with him, he grew visibly angrier.

“Cool it,” Diesel quipped. “Riff’s told us a thousand times what happened. Don’t make somethin’ out of nothin’.”

“Takin’ her side, huh?” Action challenged, stepping up to Diesel, and wasting no time in getting in his face.

Action had the tendency to act first and think later; hence the nickname. When he thought he was right about something, he was quite likely to die on that metaphorical (or not) hill before he was able to even think about listening to reason. It was helpful in a fight, sure, but during down time, it left some of the guys walking on eggshells around him. Fortunately for Diesel, he wasn’t one of them.

“No,” Diesel denied firmly. He locked eyes with Action, and refused to stand down. Action made no move to stand down, either. “Look, all I’m sayin’ is Velma told me she saw in the paper that her aunt died a few weeks ago… she’s probably just here wrappin’ up her affairs.”

Another silence fell over the group.

Diesel put a hand on Action’s shoulder lightly, trying to diffuse the tension. “You really wanna start somethin’ with her now?” he asked him calmly. “I’m sure she’ll be movin’ on again soon.”

Action shrugged his hand off harshly, and straightened his jacket. “Ya know what? I’m gonna call it a night,” he told the guys then. “Ya want to play nice with the rat? Fine. Don’t come cryin’ to me when Riff gets pissed at ya for it. I’ll see ya boys around.” With that, he stormed off towards the side door of the garage.

“Come on, Action, don’t be like that!” A-Rab called after him, but it was too late. The door slammed shut.

Once Action was gone, Diesel spoke up first. “Listen, screw what Action says,” he proposed to the guys who remained. “It was Riff’s order, and it was from a long time ago. We don’t know what he’s thinkin’ now. We’ll follow Riff’s lead on this, however he wants to deal with it.”

Everyone nodded in mutual agreement to one another.

Mouthpiece and A-Rab headed out shortly after. Diesel, Snowboy, and Gee-Tar, who was a relatively recent tenant in the apartment upstairs, were all too awake to crash just yet. They mutually decided to clean up the shop a bit, hoping that Riff would be in a better mood in the morning if he noticed their efforts.

——————————————————————————

Riff sat hunched over with his elbows on the desk as his eyes rapidly scanned over the shop’s books. It was almost ironic that whenever he actually wanted to focus on the damn things, his mind wouldn’t let him.

Deep down, Riff knew he should probably just leave Roxie alone. Regardless of how long she was back for, he should just let her be. He was still more than willing to bet that she didn’t want to see him, even if it had been well over a year. The decision to break things off back then, and subsequently have the Jets cut her out, was for her. That hadn’t changed, at least not for him.

If they had stayed together, Riff was almost certain that she would have never gone to that university at all.

Roxie had left, and when she did, Riff felt better about his decision. He didn’t see her anymore, so that helped. Without seeing her, it was much easier for him to imagine the brand new life she was having without him. The thought of a happier life for her won over the guilt he felt on the occasional nights he found himself questioning what he’d done.

But now that she had come back, all of the guilt and doubt he’d pushed away were quickly creeping back. To put it bluntly, he didn’t care for it all.

How long was Roxie back for, anyways? It couldn’t be for long. Just long enough to settle whatever affairs the witch of her aunt had. Surely she had some fancy apartment to stay in over by the university, right? Although, she was heading into that apartment complex… if she was staying there, that didn’t seem to be just a temporary living place. What was wrong with her aunt’s apartment?

Something else was bothering him too. Roxie had lost her aunt, the last living relative she had. Riff could easily imagine how she felt, and could commiserate from his own experiences. When he thought back on it, he had always had Tony to fall back on… and her, of course. Did she have anyone to talk to about it all?

There were too many unanswered questions, and he needed answers. Riff doubted his ability to focus on the situation with the shop, not to mention the Sharks, if he didn’t get them. Damn her.

There’d been a reason Riff was hesitant to form attachments to people all his life. Naturally, he was attached to his ma, but she was long gone now. He was attached to Tony, and now he was upstate, far removed from the situation for at least the near future. Then there was Roxie. He’d been attached to her once, and here she was, still proving to be a thorn in his side even after all this time.

For god’s sake, the only attachments that hadn’t come back to bite him in the ass yet were to the Jets.

Speaking of the guys, what would he tell them? They’d probably start asking questions. They’d already caught his stunned reaction in the park earlier. Hell, they may even be discussing it amongst themselves right now.

Riff closed the shop’s books quickly and rose from his chair. As he walked over to the window, he watched the smoke from the factories rising in the distance.

He needed answers. The sooner he got them, the sooner he could clear his head and focus on the more pressing issues at hand.

Riff knew he couldn’t just approach Roxie outright the next time he spotted her on the street. He’d probably give her a fright, and when she recovered from it, she’d probably go right for his neck.

He could have someone hang out by the apartment complex to watch and see if she tended to leave at certain times of the day. Though, the thought of that made him a bit uncomfortable, and god forbid Roxie’s wrath if she found out about it. The poor Jet assigned to that duty could almost guarantee himself a night in the local precinct holding cell.

No, no… he needed an “in”. Someone who she could talk to about everything, first and foremost, of course. But, if that person was willing to give him the inside scoop on Roxie, all the parties would benefit from the arrangement, wouldn’t they?

It couldn’t be him, and it definitely couldn’t be any of the guys. His next thought was naturally Tony, but that wasn’t possible. There was also the fact that Tony wouldn’t have been likely to do it if Riff asked him to, anyways. Tony and Roxie had been close. He and Riff were closer, but Riff didn’t like his odds of keeping it that way if he unnecessarily forced Tony to pick a side on this.

Suddenly, the apartment front door opened, signaling that Snowboy, Gee-Tar, and Diesel had come up for the night.

Then it struck him, the person who’d be the perfect candidate for the job.

——————————————————————————

Nearly a week had passed since Roxie had come back to the West Side.

Her old boss at the factory had given her a job on the evening shift. As a result, she had hours of time to kill during the day before she even had to think about getting ready for work. Now, if only she had somewhere to go during that time… or people to see.

She was in her bedroom reading a book when there was a knock to the front door. Betty was getting ready for work, and hadn’t mentioned that she was expecting anyone. Roxie closed the book, left the bedroom, and walked over to the front door curiously.

Roxie opened the door a crack, and cautiously peered out.

It was Velma.

Roxie was stunned for just a moment before she regained her senses. She shook her head, and began to shut the door.

“Roxie, wait!” Velma pleaded, placing a hand on the door in an effort to keep it open.

Despite her best judgment, and the fact that she knew she could force the door shut if she wanted to, Roxie froze. “Is this some kind of shake-down?” she demanded quietly, mindful of the fact that Betty was still in the apartment.

“No,” Velma assured her, also lowering her voice.

“Some kind of trick, then?” Roxie hissed. “You just wanna get one last laugh at my expense?”

“No, it’s not like that,” Velma insisted fervently. “I just want to talk.”

“Roxie, who is it?” Betty called from behind the closed door of her bedroom.

Roxie glanced over her shoulder nervously. “Just a phonebook salesman!” she called, before looking back at Velma. “Listen, I can’t get into this right now.”

“Fine,” Velma relented, finally dropping her hand from the door. “There’s a new diner two blocks down from Doc’s. Meet me there tomorrow morning at 9 o’clock.” Before Roxie could protest, Velma turned on her heels, and headed down the hallway.

Roxie sighed in frustration and shut the door.

——————————————————————————

Roxie tried not to think about the encounter with Velma throughout the remainder of the day, but failed. She had thought about it throughout her shift. The work tended to be repetitive, and naturally her mind wandered. Even as she was walking home that evening, she still found herself thinking about it. What could Velma possibly want, anyways?

Once Roxie realized just how foolish it was to be distracted so late at night while walking home alone, she quickly came to attention. Her mind still raced, but now it was with every sound her ears picked up.

“Focus, focus, focus,” she repeated the mantra. She took a deep breath, and tried to relax. Just a few more blocks, and 10 minutes at most, she’d be at the apartment, safe and sound.

Then she heard it- the undeniable echoes of footsteps.

She paused, listening carefully, and refused to turn around and look behind her. The footsteps continued for a moment, before stopping.

Roxie let out a shaky sigh as she went through all the possibilities in her mind.

It could be a patrol officer. However, she wasn’t sure why they’d be on foot unless some incident was going on in the area, and she hadn’t seen any flashing lights nearby.

It could be someone else, just walking home from work as well. But, most of the factories in the neighborhood were on one street, and since it was factory work, the shifts almost always ran at the same time. She’d already walked home several nights from work, and no one else on the same shift as her had taken this same way back to their own home.

Roxie didn’t want to dwell too long on what the final, and most probable possibility was. Instead, she picked up her speed, walking in long strides with the utmost haste, and mentally prepared herself to begin running at any given moment.

In the back of her mind, she desperately hoped it was Tony. But that was impossible.

Wait.

She froze, and once again, the steps continued for a moment, before stopping. She waited for several moments in fear, waiting to see if the steps would pick up again and if the person would approach her. It was silent.

Roxie cursed under her breath. Those damn hooligans. Maybe the spontaneous visit from Velma was more than just that. Riff must’ve asked one of the Jets to follow her home.

As Roxie began walking once again, she determined more than ever to simply make it home without having a heart attack from fright, and she contemplated just how she’d express her anger about it to Velma in the morning.

——————————————————————————

The diner was new, like Velma had said. It was very nice- but it didn’t suit the neighborhood. The shiny metal framing on the exterior made the building look like it was from another planet when it was smack dab in the middle of the worn down stone and brick buildings covered in decades-old smoke stains.

When Roxie entered the diner, she saw that Velma had already grabbed a booth. She made her way over to the table and sat down, muttering a “good morning” under her breath. She was still angry about the experience she had the night before, and had barely gotten any sleep because of it.

Roxie didn’t have long to wonder whether Velma would be the first to speak. A waitress came up to their table a second later.

“What can I get ya?” the woman asked, withdrawing a pen and pad of paper from her apron.

“I’ll just have water,” Roxie answered neutrally.

Velma gave her an odd look, but didn’t say anything. She asked the waitress for a coffee, and the woman left.

“Are you going to eat?”

Roxie shrugged. “I don’t exactly have a lot of extra cash right now,” she admitted. Velma didn’t really need to know about her money problems, but if she at least mentioned it, maybe Velma would take the hint and drop it.

“Breakfast is on me, then.”

Roxie shook her head. “Look, I’m not sure what you’re hoping to accomplish with having me meet you here, but you’re not gonna do me any favors by pitying me,” she informed her irritably. She felt her stomach growl, but refused to acknowledge it.

“It’s not pity,” Velma rebutted. “It’s called making amends.”

Roxie wasn’t quite sure how to respond to this. She sounded sincere, but Roxie still had reservations. “If you’re sure…” she responded carefully, giving Velma the opportunity to change her mind.

“Yes, yes,” Velma confirmed. She picked up her menu, and analyzed it thoughtfully. “I don’t know about you, but I am absolutely starving,” she commented, and her eyes scanned over the breakfast options quickly.

The waitress dropped off their drinks, and took their food orders. When the woman left again, a silence fell over the pair. Roxie looked at Velma, waiting for her to make the first move. As far as she was concerned, Velma had called this meeting, so she could make the first move.

“I’m sorry for just dropping by your apartment like that,” Velma apologized.

That was a bit unexpected. “How’d you even find out where I live, anyways?” Roxie demanded.

Velma took a sip of her coffee. “Small neighborhood… there are eyes everywhere, you know.”

So, someone had seen her, even before the previous night. With her luck, it was probably the whole gang, and now they all knew where she was staying. Wonderful. Roxie ran a hand over her face tiredly. “And you just… knew which unit I live in?”

Velma shook her head. “No, I ran into your landlord in the lobby. He recognized me, you know. It didn’t take much persuasion to get it out of him.”

Oaf, Roxie thought bitterly to herself. “Alright, well, now you know where I live. That doesn’t explain why you felt the need to stop by, or why you wanted to meet with me here.”

The other woman looked at her for a few moments, and her gaze made Roxie feel a bit uneasy. Eventually, Velma sighed. “Look, Roxie… I read about your aunt in the paper a few weeks ago. I wanted to check on you, and to see how you were doing.”

“What does it matter to you?”

“Because you’re my friend. I worry about you.”

“Friend?” Roxie scoffed in disbelief. “Is that what you’ve been to me?” she asked her rhetorically. “Tell me, Velma, what kind of friend completely abandons the other just because some guy tells her to?” Roxie wasn’t sure if she was referring to Riff or Diesel, but at that point, she didn’t really care

Velma pursed her lips apprehensively. “I deserve that,” she admitted quietly after a moment, before looking down at the table. She wrung her hands nervously, playing with the bracelet on her wrist, and fidgeting with a ring Roxie recalled used to be her mother’s. Eventually, Velma sighed, placed her hands palms down on the table, and forced herself to meet Roxie’s angry stare once again.

“You know, I feel awful about what I did,” Velma confessed. “I let Diesel talk me into it. To tell you the truth, I could tell it didn’t sit right with him at the time, but you know how Diesel is… he’d do anything for Riff. When Riff gave the word, Diesel followed the order.”

Roxie remained silent, though she felt the anger that had to have been showing on her face slowly begin to fade.

“When school got out, and I didn’t even see you in passing anymore, I realized how stupid it all was,” Velma continued. “I tried to fix it, but when you never returned my calls, I knew it was too late.”

Roxie did a double take, not sure she had heard her correctly. “What?”

Velma shrugged. “You know, when I tried to call you last summer?” she prompted. “I tried to get a new number I could reach you at from your aunt, but she wouldn’t give it up. I told her to let you know I had called for you. God, I must’ve left ten messages with that woman, if not more.”

It didn’t take Roxie long to piece together what must have happened. She shook her head, and smiled to herself in disbelief. If her aunt wasn’t above keeping messages from her, what else had she done that Roxie had yet to discover?

While Roxie was lost in her own thoughts, Velma realized on her own what must have happened based on her reaction. “Well… now I feel a little bit better about why you never returned my calls,” Velma stated sheepishly. She hesitated, as if contemplating what she was about to say next. “Roxie, would it have made a difference though, if you had known that I had at least tried to call you?” she asked meekly, her voice watery.

Roxie sighed, feeling genuinely conflicted. “I… I don’t know,” she replied honestly, watching as Velma wiped away a single tear that had fallen with the back of her hand. After a moment of silence, Roxie added, “But, maybe.”

“I am so sorry, Roxie,” Velma apologized vehemently. “What happened to you was rotten, and I’ll always regret the part I played in it. I know that things can never go back to the way they used to be,” she acknowledged. “But, if you’re willing to give me a chance to prove to you that I can be your friend again… I swear, I’ll take out a loan from the bank just to be able to buy you breakfast every day for the next year.”

Roxie stared at Velma for a few moments, weighing her options. Was she still angry with Velma? Part of her was. Velma had chosen her relationship with Diesel and to save face with Riff at Roxie’s expense, after all. Her apology didn’t make her automatically forgiven, but it was still a nice gesture, and one that she had offered to Roxie of her own accord. She had sought her out just for this purpose. Roxie knew Velma could be spinning a tale about how she had tried to reach out to her, as the story was very convenient, and there wasn’t anyone able to vouch for it besides her. But, Roxie also knew that her aunt keeping messages from her intentionally was not out of the realm of possibility.

Plus, she would be kidding herself if she denied that she’d been lonely.

Roxie sighed heavily, and nodded slowly. “I’m not going to forgive what you did, Velma, and I know I won’t forget it,” she told her seriously. Velma nodded understandingly. “But, I’m willing to give you one more chance to be a friend.”

“You won’t regret it,” Velma assured her, giving her a relieved smile.

“Let’s hope I don’t,” Roxie replied airily. For both our sakes.

“I’ve missed you. Don’t get me wrong, the other girls are great, and we get along fine and everything. But you and me- you were my friend, even without the boys.”

Back in the day, Roxie had also gotten along great with the other girls- Graziella, Gussie, Natalie, and whoever else one of the guys would bring around the rest of the gang. Almost all of them came from other parts of town. For one reason or another, they were on the West Side one day when they ran into their respective Jet. The rest was history. Velma wasn’t like them though. Velma had grown up in the West Side, just like Roxie had. She knew what it took to hack it in the neighborhood. They had a mutual understanding that they would never have with any of the other girls- regardless of the Jets.

“I know what you mean,” Roxie agreed.

Their waitress dropped off their food. Roxie dug in immediately, her hunger quickly becoming more apparent as she started to feel considerably better about her decision.

Velma dug at her food with her fork for a few moments, but did not take a bite. It didn’t go unnoticed by Roxie.

“Was there something else?” she pried.

Velma's smile faltered a bit. “As a sign of good faith,” she began, resting her fork on her plate, “and to prove that I am making our friendship a priority, I do want to be honest with you about the full reason I asked you to meet me.”

Roxie placed her fork down as well, looking at the other woman evenly. “Alright.”

“I was asked to check in on you, and see how you were doing.”

Of course she had been. Roxie laughed once humorlessly, unsure of what to say. She couldn’t believe it- but then again, she could. Riff had an uncanny way of playing these little mind games with her, whether or not he knew what he was doing. Before they got together, they were almost enticing. When they finally got together, they caused arguments on the occasion. Now that they were relatively strangers, Roxie wished he would cut the crap and just bug off. He had made the decision to be done with her. Was he unable to stick to his own guns now for some reason?

“I was already wanting to meet with you, of course,” Velma promised. “But then Riff asked me too as well. I’ll tell him whatever you want me to- even if that is nothing at all.”

“I’m surprised, I would’ve thought he would’ve forgotten who I was a long time ago,” Roxie commented sarcastically.

Velma rolled her eyes disapprovingly. “Come on, Roxie,” she encouraged. “You know he cared about you.”

“Really?” Roxie gasped in mock disbelief. “Well, he had a funny way of showing it.”

“Well, you know guys are... especially our guys. They’re terrible at communicating their feelings. Diesel is god awful at it. I just had to learn what he actually means when he says something else.”

“Riff’s not ‘my guy’ anymore,” Roxie corrected, the words coming out a bit more harshly than she had intended, “ and I’m sure as hell not his girl. He made that very clear.”

“Do you want me to be honest with you?” Velma questioned. Judging by her tone, she was going to offer Roxie her opinion, anyways.

“Sure,” Roxie deadpanned.

“Can you honestly say that you would have even considered going to that university if you had stayed with Riff?” Velma asked.

There it was. The thought had crossed Roxie’s mind a time or two before, but it wasn’t something she enjoyed thinking about at all. “I don’t know,” she responded quietly, looking down at her plate of food.

“Well, for what it’s worth, I don’t think you would have gone,” Velma declared decisively. Roxie shot her a hurt look, and she quickly held her hands up in defense. “You were so loyal to Riff, Roxie,” Velma elaborated. “He wanted you to go and get out of here. I’m sure he thought you wouldn’t have done so unless he forced your hand.”

Roxie hated how much sense Velma was making. She wasn’t entirely sold on the idea- not unless she were to hear it from the horse’s mouth- but, it did make some sense. Or, at least it made more sense than any other reason she’d been able to conjure up over the past year.

“Even if what you said is true, he had no right to make that decision for me,” Roxie asserted, looking up at Velma once again. Whatever Riff’s reasoning had been, her opinion on that would never change.

“Oh, no, I completely agree,” Velma admonished. “But, that’s just my guess about why he did it. I ain’t a shrink.”

Velma finished off her cup of coffee, and politely waved at the waitress for a refill. “So, are you just back for the summer?” she asked then.

The question made Roxie hesitate. “Friends, right?” she asked deliberately.

Velma made a gesture somewhere along the lines of “cross my heart and hope to die.” “Whatever you say stays between us.”

Roxie couldn’t help it. The isolation she’d been feeling the past few weeks was too much. Roxie told Velma about her aunt first. Then, the conversation naturally turned into one about how her classes went- and how her university scholarship had been revoked.

Velma shook her head disapprovingly. “How are people like us ever supposed to get out of this neighborhood?” she questioned. “As soon as we get a chance, someone throws a wrench in it and we get shipped back like it’s nothing.”

Despite that it was regarding her own situation, Roxie couldn’t help but chuckle at Velma’s description. “I’ve done the math,” Roxie added, “and even now that I’m working my shifts at the factory again, I still won’t have enough saved to pay for tuition in a few months, let alone the few months back rent my aunt owed the landlord.”

Velma gave her a reassuring look. “Well, there’s always the spring semester, right?”

If I’ve still got a place to live by then. Roxie shrugged. Everyone in the neighborhood had money problems; she knew it was redundant to keep complaining about it. “Enough about me,” Roxie insisted. “What have I missed?”

Velma hesitated, but the look in her eye suggested to Roxie that she’d be more than willing to share. “Where do I begin?” she asked herself.

Roxie glanced around, noting that the customers that had been in the booths on either side of theirs were now gone, and their dishes from the meals were piled neatly on the tables. Roxie leaned forward a bit, taking care to speak quietly. “Tell me about the rumble.”

Velma also glanced around, also confirming that they were out of anyone else’s earshot. “What do you want to know?”

“Well, the Egyptian Kings are gone now, right?” Roxie hadn’t seen any of them around.

Velma shrugged. “They’re done causing trouble, if that’s what you mean,” she answered. “I think some of them still live around here… but they haven’t been a problem since the rumble. Tony saw to that.”

“My aunt told me what happened. How’d Grazi take it?” Roxie asked. She remembered how she felt when Riff got locked up for a month. She couldn’t imagine if it had been for a whole year. Poor Grazi. While Roxie had been closest to Velma, she had grown close to Grazi as well. How could she not? Roxie had been with Riff, and Grazi was with Tony.

“Well, she was torn up about it, of course,” Velma answered vaguely. Velma looked as if she wanted to say more, but she suddenly found her cup of coffee very interesting.

“What is it?” Roxie prompted.

“Her and Tony called it off a few days before the rumble.”

“You’re kidding,” Roxie gasped. It was surprising; if the two had ever had problems, at least more than just the occasional couple bickering, they hadn’t let on at all.

Velma still looked like she wanted to say something else.

“Come on, Velma,” Roxie coaxed. “You can tell me. What else is there?”

Velma finally looked up from her cup of coffee. “You should know that Riff and Grazi are…”

“Are… what?”

“They’re sorta seeing each other,” Velma blurted, looking at Roxie apprehensively.

Oh. Roxie took a sip of her water slowly, feeling Velma’s eyes on her. She sat the glass back down calmly.

“Grazi says they’re casual?” Velma offered, clearly hoping that that fact would lessen the blow.

It was surprising. Honestly, it was a bit more surprising to Roxie than the fact that Grazi and Tony had broken up. Riff and Tony were brothers. Now, Grazi was apparently Tony’s ex. Did Tony know about Riff and Grazi? Hopefully he did. Riff would’ve told him, right?

Roxie knew she shouldn’t care about what Riff was doing these days, or who he was seeing, but she couldn’t deny that the thought of it bothered her, even just a little bit.

“I see your mind running a million miles an hour,” Velma observed.

Roxie rolled her eyes to diffuse the tension. “Listen, it’s none of my business.”

“But-”

“I’m fine, Velma,” Roxie assured her, though she couldn’t quite meet the other woman’s eyes. “Riff broke it off with me, remember?” Before Velma could respond, Roxie added, “When’s Tony getting out?”

Thankfully, Velma didn’t push the issue. “Diesel said Riff mentioned something about a few more weeks,” she answered. “It can’t happen soon enough, with how things with the Sharks are escalating.”

Roxie raised an eyebrow at her. “The Sharks?” she repeated a bit louder than she should have.

Velma shushed her immediately, and scanned the area once again, just to make sure no one was too close. Their waitress was across the restaurant, having a chat with the cook in the back through the order window.

“Yes, the Sharks,” Velma confirmed, looking back at her. “The Puerto Ricans.”

“I thought I saw some new faces around the neighborhood.”

“God knows who actually started it, but it's been going on for at least a few weeks now,” Velma sighed tiredly. She looked out the window beside the booth thoughtfully. “You may find this hard to believe, Roxie, but it was actually quiet for a few months there, right after the rumble with Egyptian Kings.”

Velma was right; it was hard to believe. When had things ever been quiet for the Jets? There had almost always been a rival gang to compete with. It was the Bishops first. Hell, the Jets had formed almost purely out of need after that gang first hit the West Side. After the Bishops, it was the Emeralds. Then, it was the Egyptian Kings. Now, apparently it was the Sharks.

“I used to walk home by myself, and I didn’t have to fret over Diesel getting a new injury every week,” Velma continued, looking out the window in almost a dream-like trance. “I remember thinking, and truly starting to believe, that there wouldn’t be any more trouble.”

Velma looked away from the window and back to Roxie. “Then the Puerto Ricans started to move in. Next thing I know, Diesel is warning me about a new gang called the Sharks and telling me that I can’t walk home by myself anymore.”

“Is there going to be another rumble?” Roxie asked, genuinely curious, and admittingly a bit worried.

Velma shrugged. “I hope not, but it feels like I’m watching the same movie, again and again. I’ve seen it several times, and I know how it always ends.”

Roxie knew how it would end, too.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to put a damper on things,” Velma said apologetically. “I hope you’re in the mood for an interesting summer.”

“Oh, I’m sure it will be,” Roxie agreed with a tired but knowing smile. “So, how are you and Diesel?”

Roxie’s belief that the question would cheer Velma up was quickly confirmed. Velma smiled into her cup of coffee as she took another sip. As she sat down the cup on the table, she answered, “Oh, you know…”

“No, I don’t,” Roxie replied with a laugh. “I’ve been gone, remember?”

“Right, right. Well, we’re still together. Though, it was a bit touch and go for a while after his ma kicked him out,” Velma recalled. “But, everything’s fine now. He’s crashing with Riff, and he’s trying to earn some extra cash by helping him out with the shop.”

“The shop?” Roxie asked. “Riff’s uncle’s auto shop?”

“The same. Riff’s uncle moved up north. It’s still in his name, but Riff runs it now and lives in the apartment.”

Roxie remembered when Riff used to work for his uncle at the auto shop a few years ago. She also remembered the awful falling out the two of them had. As a result of the fight, Riff had been kicked out on the streets. Thank god for Tony’s folks, who had let Riff stay with them after that. Roxie tried not to dwell on it too much over the years though, because when she had, she’d been so tempted to storm over to that auto shop and deck the bastard in the face.

It was hard to imagine the old man leaving Riff the shop to run in his stead, but maybe the guy had turned over a new leaf.

“I’m actually supposed to meet Diesel soon,” Velma announced suddenly, breaking Roxie’s train of thoughts. “But I really am glad you took a chance on me, Roxie. I promise I won’t let you down this time.”

“I’m glad I did too,” Roxie admitted.

“If Riff asks, what do you want me to tell him?”

The question threw Roxie off; she’d almost forgotten about that. After taking a moment to recall the scare she’d experienced the previous night, more than a few choice words for him came to mind.

——————————————————————————

It was a relatively calm day in the shop. Since business had been slow, it wasn’t very unusual. It was a bit odd that none of the other Jets had been by, and that there had been no issues with the Sharks, at least no issues that Riff was aware of. Regardless, he’d take the peace and quiet- even if it was just for a day.

Riff, Diesel, Snowboy, and Gee-Tar were giving a group effort to try and solve the transmission problems on a Chevrolet that had been brought in. Snowboy cursed as their third attempt was proven unsuccessful.

“Maybe we should just walk away?” Gee-Tar suggested to the group. “Let’s look at it with fresh eyes later. I could go for an ice cold Coke right about now.”

“I like the way you think,” Snowboy replied with a smile. “Let’s go to Doc’s.” He looked at Riff and Diesel, who were both wiping oil off their hands with spare rags. “You two in?”

Diesel shook his head. “Nah,” he declined, “Velma’s supposed to be meetin’ me here any minute.”

“Ah, buddy boy’s got a date, huh?” Gee-Tar teased with a snicker.

The cold look Diesel shot at Gee-Tar silenced him immediately.

Snowboy cleared his throat, and turned to Riff. “Want anything?”

Riff shook his head. “I’m gonna stick ‘round here. You two go ahead.”

As the two of them watched Gee-Tar and Snowboy head out, Diesel turned to Riff. “Do you mind keeping Velma busy for a few minutes when she gets here?” he asked him. “I’m gonna run upstairs and try to clean up a bit.”

Riff smirked. “Go,” he insisted, gesturing to the loft upstairs.

Diesel quickly bounded up the stairs, and Riff found himself smiling in amusement.

Riff remembered those days, though they seemed so long ago. He remembered how he used to fidget over his appearance in the mirror before a date, and how nervous he felt that he was overlooking some obvious flaw. He knows now that the effort was silly. Roxie had seen him through cuts, bruises, sprains, and the odd fracture or two. She’d never say a word if he had a small hair out of place.

He and Grazi, given their arrangement, had never really gone out on any dates and such… but maybe that would change.

Riff grabbed the pack of cigarettes he left on the workbench, and took one out. He felt around his pockets, trying to recall which one he left his lighter in. He smiled to himself when he finally found it, and lit the cigarette.

“He lost track of time, didn’t he?”

Riff looked towards the open garage door, and spotted Velma standing in the doorway.

“It was a joint effort,” Riff replied honestly, glancing at the Chevrolet. He took a drag of the cigarette as he crossed the shop, coming to a stop a few feet away from her.

Velma nodded understandingly. “I met with Roxie earlier.”.

Riff exhaled the smoke in a rough huff. That was quick. He hoped whoever was above that Velma hadn’t noticed the slip in his cool demeanor. “Oh, yeah?” he asked her then, trying to downplay his enthusiasm. As leaned against the doorway, he added, “What’d she say?”

Velma looked at him with a serious look. “I can’t tell you everything, because I swore to her I wouldn’t,” she informed him matter of factly. “She’s giving me another chance to be her friend again. How would it look if I stabbed her in the back the first chance I got?”

Riff frowned, but he had figured this would probably be Roxie’s reaction. He had taken a chance when he asked Velma to speak with her, and when he did, he knew it was a possibility that Velma would side with her. If he thought about it, he knew he wouldn’t be able to blame either of them. “Alright, what can ya tell me, then?”

“She said that if- and she stressed ‘if’- she decides she wants to see you, she will come to you.”

Riff nodded to himself, and took another drag of his cigarette. That sounded about right; that sounded like Roxie. It still didn’t answer any of his questions, though. “How long is she back for?” he asked then.

The apartment door opening and closing drew the pair’s attention to the landing, where Diesel, now dressed in street wear and looking significantly less greasy, was beginning his descent down the staircase.

“For at least the summer,” Velma answered vaguely as she flashed Diesel a smile. She turned back to Riff, and added, “Look, I really don’t know how much else I should say right now.”

“No, it’s okay, really,” Riff replied. He knew if he pushed the issue, Velma wouldn’t tell him anything else. “I appreciate ya talking to her, I really do,” he told her truthfully. “And… I’m glad she has someone to talk to now, ya know?”

“Just give her some time, boss,” Diesel suggested as he approached. He slung an arm around Velma’s shoulders with ease, and she gave him a kiss on the cheek in response.

“Yeah, yeah.” Riff rolled his eyes in mock disgust at the two. “This stays between us three, right?” he questioned, eyeing the both of them firmly.

“Swear on my Pop’s grave,” Diesel confirmed, elaborating his point with a very dramatic boy scout salute. When Diesel’s hand almost knocked Riff upside the head in his enthusiasm, Riff almost dropped the cigarette.

Riff smacked Diesel’s hand away from his face with his free hand, but he wasn’t too rough. “Get going, you two,” he urged, though he had a smile on his face as he took another drag of his cigarette.

As Diesel started to guide Velma out the garage, she suddenly stopped. “Oh, Riff! I forgot one more thing.”

“Yeah?” Riff asked as he exhaled the smoke.

“She asked you not to have anyone tail her anymore,” Velma told him. “She mentioned she heard someone the other night while she was walking home from work at the factory. If you know what’s best for you, I’d call it off,” she urged. “She was very upset.”

This caught him by surprise. “Right…”

With that, Velma allowed Diesel to lead her away.

Riff remained leaning against the doorframe and smoked the rest of his cigarette in silence. When he was finished, he tapped out the butt, and flicked it away.

As Riff headed back into the shop, the more his head began to turn as he thought about the last thing Velma had said. Something about it didn’t sit right with him at all.

He hadn’t followed Roxie home- hell, he hadn’t even known she worked at the factory again. Anybodys may have acted on their own accord, but he hadn’t asked anyone else to follow her home, either.

Who the hell was following her?

——————————————————————————

When Roxie finally made it home from work that evening, she felt tired, but otherwise very satisfied. She almost felt happy, but perhaps it was too soon to know for sure. Either way, she wasn’t feeling lucky enough to risk jinxing it.

Her friendship with Velma was on the mend. If Velma kept her word, and if Riff listened to her, she didn’t have to worry about an awkward run-in with him. Most of the Jets wouldn’t make a move without Riff’s word, so they’d probably leave her alone, too.

So what if she was stuck in the West Side for now? That didn’t have to mean she would be inherently miserable, and maybe she could find a way to be able to make the best out of it.

As Roxie moved around her bedroom while getting ready for bed, she realized how warm the room was. If she was lucky, there could be a cool night breeze, despite the heat of the day. She’d gotten lucky with that same idea for a few nights so far. Plus, the unit was on the sixth floor. If anyone noticed the open window and tried to climb the fire escape, she’d hear them immediately, and have plenty of time to shut and lock the window.

Roxie walked over to the window and drew the curtains open.

She involuntarily flinched backwards as her eyes were met with something white. Roxie looked away quickly, trying to will herself to calm down. It’s probably just trash that blew up from the street, she told herself.

Once her heart rate slowed a bit, she looked back up at the window.

It wasn’t trash.

It was a piece of paper, and it was taped to the outside of the window. There was something on it too, written in bright red ink. Roxie forced her feet forward, though she trembled with every step. Hesitantly, she leaned in closer to the window to get a better look at it.

It was a pyramid. “Midnight Tomorrow” was scrawled underneath it.

A/N: Thank you for reading! Hope y’all like the cliffhanger. I’m planning to get the next part out on Sunday. If you enjoyed it, please feel free leave a like. :)

Part 6

Masterlist

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