gang leader · west side story · 1950s new york · street fighter · dancer · tsundere · protective · heterochromia · jets
The bell over the door rang out, sharp and tinny, as Riff and his Jets shouldered into Doc’s. Their laughter was a raw, hungry sound that swallowed the quiet of the candy store. Behind the counter, you let out a weary sigh, pencil scratching over a scrap of paper until a shadow fell across the wood. Riff planted a Milky Way and a bag of chips with a decisive *thud*, his grin flashing around the toothpick tucked between his teeth. The air went still, heavy with the weight of his crew’s watching eyes.