Riff Honestly Isnt Sure What He Expected, But This Isnt It. His Neck Is Stinging And Hes Fairly Sure

Riff honestly isn’t sure what he expected, but this isn’t it. His neck is stinging and he’s fairly sure he might be bleeding. He’s winded, and Adelé’s mouth on his hasn’t helped with that. He props himself up on his elbows and grins at her anyway, clearing his throat a bit before he speaks. “Sure.” He doesn’t think he’ll stop telling her what she can and can’t do anytime soon, especially if this is the reaction he’s going to get when he does it. Sure, getting slammed around is no fun, but if he gets kissed for it, he’s a lot more likely to be annoying more often. Not that he’s not already annoying, but if being more annoying means he’ll get kissed more often, he’s going to be more annoying.

He wriggles a little bit under her, just to test how much he can move. Her knee on his thigh isn’t giving him much range of motion, but it’s easy enough to grab at her shoulders and roll them over so he’s grinning down at her instead of up. He sets his knees on either side of her hips and kisses her again. “Y’know, I’d like you a lot more if you weren’t beatin’ me up every time we see each other.”

@notefinal Riff said : ❛ you can kiss me, you know. ❜ to Adelé

DAUGHTER OF STORMS knows she can. Just as she knows she can put the blades she carries on her at all times between his ribs ; maim him like a ship's hull after a battle. She knows she can kick him in the groin and slam the side of her hand against his throat. SHE KNOWS ALL OF THIS, yet, she does none of it. Time has made her soft around the edges, especially so when she is wrapped up in the thrill of the chase. How many days has it been since she's seen him last ?

❝ Can I ? Oh, how gracious of you — ❞ breath is a ghost as she leans in closer, fingernails digging into the nape of his neck hard enough to draw blood. IT IS A TRICK as the flat palm of her hand is shoved against his chest, forcing him back so that her foot might swipe his legs out from underneath him. Father called her monkey back in the gentle days of childhood. She has not forgotten how to jump a man even years later. Her weight crashes against him, pushing him against the ground. Knee digging into his thigh as her hand grips his chin. Look at me. Only look at me !

Her mouth finds his, kissing him hard enough for their noses to knock together painfully. Obsession is left in the simple action, tasting like rum and poison and all things bitter. ❝ — Never tell me what I can and cannot do, or I will slit your throat. Understood ? ❞

i did everything for you

gave you everything

sacrificed so much

i ran myself ragged for your sake

only to be met with your quiet and cruel indifference

you don't love me

you love what i do for you

Riff knew what most of Hawkins said about him. He also knew that he didn’t care. Half of the rumors that were circulating about him and the guys were wrong, anyway. He tended to laugh whenever he heard a particularly outlandish one. He had heard, in no particular order, that he and the guys were a cult, that they had a secret underground fighting ring, and that they were responsible for all the drug problems in Hawkins. None of those rumors were true, of course. They weren’t drug dealers. And they weren’t a cult. And they also didn’t have a secret fighting ring. They’d all be a lot richer if they had a secret fighting ring. And Hawkins wasn’t really the place to start a secret fighting ring even if they wanted to, which they didn’t. They were perfectly content to cause trouble and be the local delinquents.

That didn’t mean they weren’t gentlemen. It didn’t mean that when Riff spotted a fight brewing with Chrissy Cunningham stuck smack in the middle, he was going to leave her there. He grinned down at her, watching her fiddle with her purse. “Thanks. Nah, I don’t think so. Just good reflexes.” He dug around in his pocket for his lighter and a cigarette, offering one to Chrissy as he lit his own. “Just be careful next time. I ain’t always gonna be around to play superhero.”

@notefinal asked ❝ i prefer to be called "evil genius" ❞

Normally, Chrissy would have offered a smile while internally rolling her eyes at such a comment, but, well, he had just helped her out. It hadn't been the first time she'd been pulled into the crowd of high schoolers (and some recent graduates) that liked to hang out behind the mall, smoking all sorts of things and drinking whatever could be procured, which meant fights were a common enough occurence. But it was the first time things had started to feel like they were going south too quickly for her to get out on her own before some boys started swinging at each other.

So her smile was wholly sincere, and she might have even giggled at him, fingers fiddling with her bubblegum pink and aquamarine purse. "I'd rather just call you a genius until you do something evil," she decided. Sure, she had heard vague things about him, but it was Hawkins; everyone heard vague things about everyone. It was impossible to know what was true and what was just dramatic exaggeration or flat out lies. "Unless thinking that quick on your feet is evil, now."

♢      —        send  [ META ] + a word / phrase / person / etc  and i will write a head  canon around it.

valeska twins headcanons bc i just added jeremiah

they can do the twin thing of switching places, but because they’re the valeskas, they took it three steps further. they can imitate the other perfectly, to the point where the gcpd can no longer tell them apart. they switch back and forth constantly, and the only ones that know who’s jerome and who’s jeremiah are the twins themselves, and even they’re having trouble keeping track.

jeremiah is typically the brains of their operations, but jerome has his own contributions and touches that he puts on their plans. he prefers going in and smashing things up, so jeremiah being the brains doesn’t really bother him, unless it’s his own plan that’s being shot down.

jeremiah’s preferred weapon is a butterfly knife or the gun he keeps in his sleeve. jerome’s is a switchblade or a revolver. both twins know how to fire and clean a multitude of firearms, and they’re equally skilled with knives and other assorted weaponry.

when jerome fled the hospital, he spent a week looking for sheba, his mother’s snake. when he found her, he took her in and now he goes pretty much everywhere with her. she doesn’t listen to anyone but jerome. jeremiah loves her, but she doesn’t like him very much.

jerome’s favorite color is neon green. jeremiah’s favorite color is dark purple.

jeremiah is a cat person. jerome is a snake person, but he’s fond of pretty much any animal out there.

both of them are equally obsessed with bruce wayne. they can never agree on what to do with him if they catch him and it’s caused countless fights.

neither of them have the best sleeping habits, but jeremiah has a more consistent sleep schedule than jerome. both of them can stay up absurdly late if they’re planning and scheming, though.

jerome is older by two minutes. he calls jeremiah “little brother” all the time.

their ‘we don’t talk about it’ topics are the circus and st. ignatius. jerome hates remembering how jeremiah left him and how their mother abused him. jeremiah will sometimes bring up either topic when he wants an argument, or just because he’s bored and wants to fight.

neither of them like talking about their lives before their mother died. jeremiah is more likely to talk about it, but jerome probably won’t ever talk about it, unless it’s to make jokes or to angrily trauma dump on someone that won’t stop asking questions.