St. Eli Lore - Tumblr Posts

Silly scenario: the Assad gang is throwing a party with the Ray brothers' parents out of town for the night and Riley's kickin' it back until he sees something unpleasant.

CW: mentions of drugs

When the Ray’s folks were gone for the night, a party was usually thrown downstairs in the basement of their big white house. It had all the room they needed, they being Assad’s gang, a decently sized lounging room to fit about twenty to thirty people– if no one minded getting cramped with their ass against someone else's crotch. Oh, Riley was certain no one would too, considering a few of their guests were already getting right into it, gyrating to the bumping bass and explicit music. But thankfully they had additional room with the backyard door wide open, leading out to the rather nice backyard where Keem handled the grill and Assad participated in beer pong or poker by the folded tables. Where the others were, hell, he was sure they were doing just fine amid the packed crowd. And Riley himself? He was lounging on the couch inside as the music pounds from his eardrums to the back of his skull, an arm draped along the back of the couch with his hips pushed out and toned thighs spread out, his tank top riding up to expose that lil happy trail of dark curls creeping down underneath. And of course, Riley Chayy wasn’t Riley without a blunt in hand. The weed he was smoking tonight was hitting. So, simply relaxing while everyone had their fair share of indulgences was just his cup of tea for tonight, taking a long drag and inhaling, feeling the high buzz through him just nice before he slowly blew it out. While his main excuse for smoking was to help with night terrors (and it did), he was fucking addicted to some extent. It made him feel more grounded, more at peace– instead of that antsy and angry kid he was back then when he was living with– woah, downer much, Ri? His eyes drag across the crowd lazily, barely lingering on the pretty girls dancing in barely anything and then to the hot guy by the bar with Assa– what? Suddenly his droopy eyes feel a bit too focused, his fingers flexing and clenching over his knee as he takes another drag of his blunt. Fuck. While it looked innocent as just chatting and having drinks, Riley wasn’t born yesterday.  He could see the ‘fuck me eyes’ and that devilish little smirk on those chapped lips.

Riley finally tears his eyes away after staring for a bit too long, suddenly feeling more interested in ‘people seeing’ once more. He didn’t wanna kill his mood, no– fuuuuck that. Riley hated buzzkills, so no way in hell was he gonna be one himself. He’d just need to find himself a distraction, a fucking remedy to cure him from whatever toxic push and pull that narcissistic brunette had on him. 

And it was easy enough to find himself some fun. 

Riley Chayy, the dreamboat of St. Eli (aside from his brother in Christ, Keem), had a knack for catching the eyes of most people. Handsome, charismatic, and a decent man, what wasn’t there to like about him? But the silent hype he gave himself made Riley roll his eyes as he took one last gander at the crowd before stopping on someone. And they were already looking his way, the man feeling their eyes dragging up his form. Then they’re leaning to their friend, with a cute smile on their face when his eyes meet theirs and Riley can’t help but quirk up his own. 

And like a bee to honey, they’re leaving their friend to make their way towards the couch. “Hey,” Riley greets as he gives them a once over. Bringing the blunt back to his lips, his eyes trail up once more as he continues, “Caught ya starin’, you weren’t feelin’ bad for lonely ol’ me, were you dollface?” His hand over the couch motions to the empty space beside him. “Got ya a seat right here if ya pity me, babe. Another one right here.” Then it flicks casually towards his lap.

Silly scenario: Charlie's first time meeting Riley many summers ago.

Ages for context: Charlie is 14, Assad, Keem, and Riley are 16.

The first time Charlie felt the warmth of summer wasn’t through his mom’s hesitant hand, trying to comfort him every time a kid teased him about his hair. It wasn’t in the resigned, almost disappointed look his dad gave him when Charlie said that being a lawyer didn’t really sound like his thing.

No… not even through Assad, who, by their mother’s orders, dragged him along to those small gatherings with aggressive men, where Charlie felt even smaller than usual. At fourteen, ‘little carrot’ could only lower his head and chuckle softly at every joke or exaggerated shove from his brother’s friends.

He was lost in doodles, scribbling in his journal, when the basement of their house got noisier than usual. His mom had sent him downstairs with a tray of lemonade, asking him to tell them to keep it down—though Charlie doubted they’d actually drink it.

His steps were hesitant, timid, almost scared, as he approached the sound of Assad’s booming laughter, joined by the soft shh of Hakeem’s giggles. Ah, Hakeem. The only one of Assad’s friends who didn’t find joy in teasing Charlie for his looks.

“Hey, lil’ carrot! Whatcha got there?” Of course, Hakeem was the first to notice him, a blunt dancing between his fingers as he got up from the couch, throwing an arm around Charlie’s shoulders and dragging him closer.

“This is Assad’s brother we’ve been talkin’ ‘bout. Bet this dumbass never even introduced you.” And that’s when Charlie met him. Maybe it’s an exaggeration, maybe he was just too used to being mocked, or maybe it was Assad’s piercing scowl that made it all fall into place.

“Hey, name’s Riley.”

Oh. That small smile tugging at Riley’s lips—that was all the attention he gave Charlie, but somehow it was enough. For the first time in that basement full of bad memories, Charlie felt his shoulders relax. The tray of lemonade was forgotten as his fingers nervously played with the hem of his video game t-shirt, a silent cry for help.

He had already forgotten why he’d even come down there. But when his gaze met Riley’s again, his brain short-circuited, lips moving soundlessly until he managed to blurt out a small, awkward question.

“Do you like lemonade?” His cheeks flushed a deep red, drawing confused stares before the room burst into laughter again.

“So, Ri, do you like lemonade?” Assad mocked, earning a few playful shoves from Hakeem, who tried to hush him.

Idiot, who asks something like that? Charlie pressed his lips together, ready to flee like always, until a voice cuts through his thoughts.

“I do. And you?” Oh. That’s when Charlie met the summer.

It was so warm, so comforting, that he didn’t see the storm loving Riley would bring.