Finally fixed their outfits! Sorry it took a while 😅
Wukong is pissed off, Mk is confused/terrified, Macaque just wants peace, his grandmother wants blood and his grandfather is just impressed that Wukong found their home.
Also Wukong half told the truth to Mk by telling him that they are going on a secret mission and he needs his help. Mk was hyped because his mentor was finally trusting him so they, Mk not knowing, followed PIF and Red Son to the mountains where the Snow Macaque Demons live. You can already guess what happened next. 😌
Eddie and Columbia in the Snowfall AU lore dump!!!
I'm so hyped and someone put them right in my mind so YIPPEEEE!!!! Also imma be crazy sappy and then get SUPER angsty w this one LMAO
Columbia came lost to the castle first, looking for directions since she was lost. She fell under Frank's spell IMMEDIATELY. She was twenty, scared, and lonely and he was DEEPLY charismatic and had such a way with her!!! She wasn't from around here, since she was a groupie and, being one, had been following a band around and gotten lost in Denton!!! She lived in the castle from that night on!!!
She and Frank were an item from 6 months to a year, she became best friends with Riff Raff and Magenta during this process, who wished that she would understand that Frank was just using her. But to no avail!!!
She got that one slapped in her face when Frank spurned her for Eddie!!! She was heartbroken and miserable!!! She never even looked at Eddie!!! She couldn't bear to!!! Of course she would hear people talk about him, and think that she would like him a lot if only, but still!!!
Eddie had first come to the castle when his motorcycle had broken down and was searching for a phone!!! He was either 24 or 25 and his familial situation had been deeply strained, so he moved into the castle immediately that night, just like Columbia had when she first came!!!
Eddie took up a relationship with Frank that was happy at first, but it grew strained quicker than Columbia's did because he sensed that Frank didn't respect his career and wanted to shut him up all of the time!! Eddie felt like he was being told to live his life as invisibly as possible, and he did NOT like that!!! He was a rockstar for fuck's sake!!! Riff and Magenta bonded deeply with him and appreciated his art, but his boyfriend didn't and Eddie noticed that!!! He broke up with Frank after 6 months total!!! He kept living in the castle, though, and Frank let him because he was certain that he'd come back to him!!!
One of the habits Columbia fell into when she was trying to cope with her breakup was going to as many local concerts as she could, but she just couldn't feel the same spark that she used to!!! Obviously, she wouldn't go to the concert if she knew that Eddie was going to be singing in it, but she had no IDEA when he was the opening act at one!!! Columbia was struck when he started singing however by how truly genuine his songs sounded!!! They were true bangers- like, MASSIVE bangers and she felt that he truly meant every word that he sung!!! She started jamming out and the two of them made eye contact a few times during his numbers- well, progressively more eye contact as they started searching for each other more and more!!! Both of them had started thinking to themselves, It's crazy, but I think that if I got to know you, you might understand somehow.
After the show, Eddie and Columbia somehow found each other!!! They managed to go out to a bar and found a quiet corner where they talked about so much!!! They connected SO deeply over music and they danced so wildly!!!
Riff Raff and Magenta meanwhile realized that Columbia and Eddie had both been at concerts that night and had not come back for FAR longer than normal... they then began to panic as they realized that the two of them were 1000% at the same concert!!! They immediately assumed the worst and thought that the two were killing each other!!! They just started panicking and discussing what to do when Columbia and Eddie came back together, GENUINELY smiling for once!!!
They were both kind of nervous, but they both wound up individually talking to Riff and Mag!!! Both of whom thought to themselves, "Alright, I see what needs to be done here," and basically asked "are you gonna hit that?" to both of them and BAM! They spent that night together!!!
Frank was SO pissed!!! It was hilarious!!! Inevitably however, he did try to break them apart!!! It'd been a few months when he finally revealed Eddie's criminal history to Columbia, after digging up all of the evidence.
She went to him and asked him about all of it and he admitted to it!!! He apologized profusely for not telling her earlier, but he'd been trying so hard to build himself up again and he just thought that he could pretend it never happened, when he couldn't!!! She forgave him and then admitted that she'd been keeping an absolutely massive secret as well (those of you who've read a lot of Snowfall content know exactly where this is going lmao.) Eddie didn't know what to expect, but he did his best to prepare for it. She'd accepted him and he could accept her!
Nothing, however, could have prepared him for the sight of his girlfriend transforming into a mouse in a big pink cloud of smoke!!!
She transformed back almost immediately, explaining that she'd always been able to do it and she didn't know how or why! Her mother couldn't turn into a mouse and she'd never met her father! She didn't even know who he was or if he was still alive! Eddie embraced her and told her his own story!
His father had died in a car accident when he was VERY young! Too young to remember any more than images! His mother was kind and sweet and kind and loving, but she was WAY in over her head with him! He was a high maintenance kid and she was a young widow!! When he was a teenager, she was diagnosed with cancer and his uncle moved in to help care for them. He really was the only one able to stay calm and have enough emotional strength to take care of her. Eddie REALLY went off of the deep end at his mother's diagnosis, he was eventually expelled from school (the only pride he had was knowing that he was the glue that held Denton High School's band together and without him they were gonna bomb that performance that they'd been practicing for and they absolutely did) and he was arrested MULTIPLE times!
His mother was dying, and everyone liked to share rumors about his uncle that taught at his school. They all said he was a N@zi, and Eddie had always sensed that his Uncle Scotty had been hiding something important from him.
Eddie felt like he'd broken his mother's heart, and when he learned that he wasn't there for her when he lost her, he just couldn't come home!!
The two of them cried together that night and held each other SO tightly!!! They promised to ALWAYS be there for each other!!!
In other words Frank had just brought them closer together!!!
The years passed and the two of them got to know what family the other one had, and they were SO happy!!!
Three and a half years later, Eddie had the instantaneous epiphany that he absolutely NEEDED to put a ring on that woman!!! He'd decided that his life of crime was over, but he still unfortunately had no money!!! His response to the situation was to run to Riff Raff and Magenta, beg Magenta to have a girls day with Columbia, and then beg the local handyman in a very Parks and Rec inspired move to break something and melt it down to forge a gold ring for Columbia!!! A ring that she'd never want to take off again!!!
He proposed that very night and she ECSTATICALLY said yes!!! They both cried, Riff Raff and Magenta cried, and Frank cried tears of rage!!! Everyone else was so happy however that it didn't even matter for once!!! They were all indestructible!!!
They got married a week later when they'd both had a little bit of time to prepare!!! Riff Raff and Magenta were the witnesses and wore appropriate rock n roll colors and attire!!! Like, as formal and fancy as you can get while being in the right theme of a rock concert!!!
Eddie wore a black button up and SO much eyeshadow!!! Columbia wore a short white dress with SO much poof on it!!! She had a veil, but it never got unveiled since she wore it behind her in the first place!!! It was so long that it trailed to the ground!!! She wore LOTS of sparkly colorful jewelry!!! Instead of exchanging rings, they exchanged black leather jackets that they'd personally customized to fit each other's personalities!!!
When they got there, they, in very Parks and Rec fashion, requested the shortest ceremony possible!!! The first thing that the officiant said to him was "wait a minute, weren't you the guy from court who got arrested for getting in a street fight?" "Oh yeah! You were on the jury, weren't you? How've you been, man?" For Eddie, Columbia, Riff, and Mag, it was VERY amusing!!!
They decided to make a joke and not tell Scotty just to see how long it took for him to realize!!! The relationship was strained, but it was still there!!!
When Eddie picked up on the fact that his uncle was learning about the presence of the Transylvanians, though not that Eddie had been hanging out with them, he started to notice and question things. He watched the way his uncle seemed to know a bit too much about Transylvania- more than he did, even. He started to question things. Why did his Uncle Scotty mention a Frank over the phone? It could be anyone, but why did he ask if he brought servants with him and why was he so desperate to know what they looked like? Why was he angry when his colleagues didn't have the information? Why did the insanely well defined photograph of a young woman in his uncle's room look as if she were Transylvanian? Why did she look almost exactly like Riff Raff?
He put the thought out of his mind. It was too crazy.
But then he started to notice some more things. Evidence that predated his knowledge of any of this.
His uncle had always had a parent's tone with him. An experienced one. Like he'd done it before. Even when Eddie was a toddler. He'd never noticed it until now, but it was DEFINITELY present!!! And even more so, his uncle acted strangely traumatized whenever Eddie did something risky. His reaction was adequately scared, but also odd. And Eddie could never quite put his finger on what it was. Not until now did Eddie recognize that it was the reaction of someone who had lost someone too young before.
Eddie was dizzy. His head was spinning. He just couldn't stop thinking about it.
One night he and Columbia were talking about family, and he finally said, "I know what they all say about my uncle Scotty, and I know he's hiding something, but I don't know! He never raised me that way, he raised me to be kind and loving! I never told him I was into people of all genders but he knows that regardless and doesn't care! And I know. They all say it, they say he's done all of these things but I don't know!!!.... maybe not..."
Collie pressed him for more information but he couldn't bare to say any more that night. Too afraid of being an idiot who ruined his bonds by making connections he shouldn't make.
She never got the chance to press for more info, however, because the next day Frank beat his head with a rock and made it look like an accident.
When he came to, he was alone, and realized what Frank had done to him. He knew he might not get another chance, so, with the worst headache of his life, he took the blood on his forehead and used it to write a note to his uncle. He couldnt make it too obvious, because what if it were intercepted???
He was out of his head and he wrote as much! He didn't know if he would live, and when he said "they musn't carry out their evil deeds" he meant Frank and Frank alone!!! He signed the letter with "love" because he felt that he could truly say it this time. He could finally, truly say it with no risk.
He saw the mailman, thrust the note into his hands and told him the address. He threatened with his switchblade knife- he had to. That note HAD to get there!!!
He blacked out again afterwards, and when he woke up, he was in the freezer. He jumped out and started singing- what else was he supposed to do? There wasn't any other way to not fuck with the whole mood, and if he ruined the mood, Frank would kill him for good.
The only problem was his strategy took the attention away from Frank. And Frank didn't want that. At all.
Eddie saw that Frank was coming at him with a chainsaw and he tried to run. He saw that Riff Raff was running after Frank but he couldn't catch up. That damn hunch Frank made him wear slowed him down far too much
Eddie realized that he wasn't going to make it out of this and everything washed over him.
For a moment, he thought to himself, This isn't right! I'm only 29 years old! It can't be like this!
Then his gaze caught Columbia's and the most sickening thought in the world washed over him. He was going to be subjecting Columbia to the same fate as his mother. A widow at 25 years old.
And he couldn't bring himself to regret their time together. Not at all.
His only regret was what they wouldn't have. He would never see her overcome her fears of performing and show off her kickass voice. He thought of the band that they would never have. The children that they would never have. The way that they'd never be able to get rid of Frank and take Riff Raff and Magenta with them. Hell, maybe even go with them!
He'd never know if they were family. But then again, to him, they already were. No matter what the truth was, he loved them like it.
His last thought was one that he could never say out loud, not if he wanted to keep his love safe, but his last thought was a desperate plea to Scotty, Riff Raff, and Magenta
PROMISE ME! PROMISE ME THAT SHE WILL BE LOVED!
After his death, Columbia fell into a massive depression, but with the love of the others and for Eddie's sake, she pulled through!
Scotty found out that they got married when he noticed that Columbia legally owned all of his possessions. Columbia assured him that she found it hilarious that this was how he found out! And she promised that Eddie would have found it hilarious as well! Columbia and Scotty grew closer than ever and share Eddie stories ALL the time!
It was revealed that Eddie was absolutely right about everything, and that Riff Raff and Magenta's mother was still alive, and in fact the adopted daughter of Scotty.
Columbia revealed her secret that she can turn into a mouse to the others, started singing and performing live. She was brave enough to be herself and to show it!
Magenta organized a funeral for Eddie, obviously they didnt have a body, but they had pictures and love. During the setup, Columbia told Magenta about the conversation that she'd had with Eddie, and asked her if she thought that Eddie knew. Magenta told her that there was no way for anyone to know, and Columbia accepted that truth.
They all still miss him, and regret the life he'll never share with them, that he'll never know that Columbia had a long lost brother in Brad, but they're able to be happy again!!!
Once Riff Raff becomes king, he names a concert hall after Eddie, and Columbia performs there MANY times with a huge smile on her face!!! Eddie always knew it was in her!!!
Columbia was the one to give Riff Raff and his wife Cordelia's second child, Koketta, the nickname Ettie after Eddie! She had it ever since she was a baby, but turns out she's a music GENIUS!!! Columbia and Koketta have a special bond, and Columbia knows that Eddie would just adore her and the others!!! Whenever she watches her perform, she feels like the man Koketta was semi-named after is truly getting honored!!!
Columbia and Eddie love each other deeply, and they are both SO loved!
(Also Eddie is short for Edwin in my AU! I didn't know where to include that XD)
This is a friendship token that I had to massively cut down so it would ever get to a completed state for @fmajorenthusiast
This is inspired by the fact we are constantly talking about how my Frank Show!Brad and her Snowfall!Riff Raff would be the most dad buddies ever. And they are. In a timeline, they are frolicking, showing their children the wonders of Transylvania.
I hope this little (slightly rushed) animation thing brings you so much joy! I like talking to you and having our little autistic back and forths!
She didn’t bother with the strawberry this time—her smile crooked as if she’d made a sudden decision. Mireille leaned forward, closing the space between them, and pressed her lips to his.
It wasn’t a quick taste. No, she kissed him slow, lips parting until her tongue slid against his, coaxing, teasing. It was lazy in tempo but deep enough to pull him under. Franklin froze for a second—not because he didn’t want it, but because of the way she kissed him. It was unhurried, intentional, like she was claiming a piece of him back.
His chest tightened, and the man in him—the one that had been restless for her, fighting himself and every shadow in his past—answered right back. Franklin leaned into her, hand curling along her jaw, thumb brushing under her chin, tilting her where he wanted her. He let her taste him, then pressed back, his tongue sliding with hers in a rhythm that made his breath catch.
She sighed into it, her whole body easing like she’d forgotten to hold herself up, fingers curling at his shoulder, nails faint against the cotton of his tee. That soft sound from her undid him more than any words could.
By the time she drew back, lips swollen, her chest rose and fell quick. She stayed close though, foreheads brushing, her eyes half-lidded but searching him.
“You keep lookin’ at me like that,” Franklin murmured, voice low, rougher than he meant, “I’m not gon’ be able to let you go.”
Her smile was faint but trembling, lips still inches from his. “Maybe that’s the point,” she whispered back, and before he could answer, she pulled him in again, kissing him deeper, wetter, like she wanted to feel every ounce of what he’d just said.
This time, Franklin didn’t hesitate. He stood, chair scraping back, dragging her with him by the hips until she was half-in his arms, half-on her feet, the kiss still locked between them. The breakfast could wait—she was all he wanted to taste.
95
Her fingers, soft but steady, slid up from his chest to his jaw, tilting his chin so he had no choice but to look at her. The motion stopped him cold, the weight of her gaze sobering even as his body pressed hers tighter to the counter.
“I do love you, Franklin,” Mireille whispered, her voice thick but clear. “Even if it’s only been a little bit of time. Even if—technically—we’re still strangers aside from…” her lips curved, teasing despite the vulnerability in her eyes, “…the bed or whatever emotional connection we’re fumbling through.”
Franklin stilled, staring down at her like the words were hitting deeper than any touch ever had. His breath slipped out slow, rough. “Strangers don’t feel like this,” he said low, thumb brushing across the dip of her waist, his eyes locked on hers like he was daring her to argue.
She tilted her head, lips quirking again, though her lashes fluttered at the truth pressing in around them. “You sound so sure of yourself.”
“That’s ‘cause I am,” Franklin shot back, but softer than his usual edge, like he was handling something delicate. He leaned in, their noses brushing. “You think I’d be standin’ here, lettin’ food burn, lettin’ business wait… if you ain’t already mine?”
Her laugh cracked in the middle, half disbelief, half caught breath, because his hands slid lower, pulling her closer at the hips until there was no space left. She squeezed her eyes shut for a second, trying to gather herself, but when she opened them again he was still staring at her like she was the only thing that mattered.
“Franklin…” she breathed, hands sliding into his curls, tugging just slightly to ground herself. “You’re trouble. I know it. But you feel—” she stopped, swallowing hard as his lips brushed the corner of her mouth. “—you feel like peace right now.”
He smiled against her skin, small and unguarded, before capturing her lips again. This time, the kiss wasn’t rushed, wasn’t desperate. It was slow and consuming, the kind that unraveled her piece by piece while his palms pressed firm at her back, holding her steady against the counter like he had no plans of letting go.
Her legs tightened around his waist, pulling him closer without thinking, and Franklin groaned low in his chest, breaking only long enough to mutter against her lips, “Ain’t lettin’ nobody call us strangers again.”
96
Mireille’s mouth trailed heat up the strong line of his throat, slow and unhurried, like she wanted to taste every inch of him before she reached his ear. Her breath ghosted over his skin, and then the softest nip caught his lobe.
Her voice lingered there, low and tempting.
“If we not strangers…” she murmured, lips brushing him again, “…what are they gonna call us then, Saint?”
The question sent a sharp shiver down his spine. Franklin’s jaw flexed as he turned his face just enough to catch her in his sights, his hand sliding up her thigh with a deliberate grip. “They gon’ call us what we are,” he said, voice rough, eyes locked on hers. “You mine. I’m yours. Ain’t no halfway in that.”
Her lips curved, playful but shaky at the same time. She tilted her head back, giving him room, teasing and testing. “Mmm, bold claim for a man who used to disappear at sunrise.”
That made him pause just long enough to shake his head, a shadow of a smile tugging at his mouth. He leaned closer until his nose brushed her scarf-covered curls, breathing her in. “Used to,” he repeated, like he wanted her to hear the finality in it. “Ain’t goin’ nowhere now. Not after last night. Not after you told me what you did.”
Her chest tightened, breath catching because he said it with the kind of certainty that left little room for retreat. She bit down on her lip, but he caught her chin, coaxing it free with a thumb.
“You askin’ what they gon’ call us?” Franklin said, low, steady. “They gon’ call us somethin’ real. Somethin’ that lasts. Somethin’ bigger than me, bigger than you. That’s what.”
Her smile flickered, softer this time, dimples flashing faint as she searched his face. She kissed him again, slower now, lips moving like she wanted to memorize the shape of his mouth. Pulling back just enough to whisper against him, she teased, “That sounds a lot like you tryna say we somethin’ like love.”
Franklin’s hands tightened on her waist, pulling her flush to him, his eyes dark but sure. “Nah,” he corrected, brushing her mouth again. “Ain’t somethin’ like love. It is love. And I’m done actin’ like it ain’t.”
Her laugh trembled through her, soft and breathless, and she pressed her forehead to his, whispering, “You sound dangerous when you talk like that, Saint.”
But this time, she didn’t try to push him away.
97
Her smile softened, dimples flickering as she looked at him with her head tilted just so, curls brushing her cheek. Her voice dropped lower, teasing but threaded with something vulnerable under it.
“If you’re done acting, Saint…” she let the pause stretch, her finger tracing idle circles against his chest, “…what am I? You gonna ask me nicely, huh?”
The challenge was wrapped in sweetness, but Franklin heard the weight tucked in between her words. His hand cupped the back of her neck, thumb brushing her jaw, guiding her to look at him dead-on. His voice came out quieter, steady but full of heat.
“You already know what you are to me, Ray.”
She arched a brow, lips pressing together like she was holding back a laugh, like she wasn’t about to give him anything easy. “Mmm, no… see, I wanna hear you say it. Not assume. Not hide behind that Franklin Saint swagger you wear like a coat. I want the words. From you.”
Franklin studied her, that softness in her eyes matched with the dare in her tone. He leaned in close, his forehead brushing hers, making sure she couldn’t look anywhere but him. His hand slid down her side to rest firm on her hip, steadying her where she straddled him.
“You my woman,” he said simply, the words heavy, grounded. “Ain’t no title, no past, no man from before touchin’ that. You mine, Mireille. And I’m yours.”
Her breath hitched, lashes fluttering like she didn’t expect him to cut through the dance so direct. She bit her lip, then tried to cover the tremor in her voice with a scoff. “That supposed to be you asking me nicely?”
His mouth curved, but his eyes stayed serious. He tilted her chin again, brushing a thumb over her bottom lip where she’d bitten. “Nah. That’s me telling you how it is. But if you need me to ask—” his voice softened, dropping to something rawer— “then let me ask. Be mine, Ray. Not halfway. Not in secret. Be mine, all the way.”
The air between them went still. Her throat worked like she was swallowing words she couldn’t get out quick enough. She finally whispered, almost breaking, “And you’ll be mine?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Already am.”
Her chest rose sharp, eyes glistening as her smile wobbled, caught between relief and disbelief. She leaned in, lips brushing his as she whispered back, “Then ask me again, Saint. Ask me so I can say yes.”
And this time, when he kissed her, it wasn’t teasing or testing. It was an answer.
98
Mireille tugged on the collar of his shirt, her smile sharp, teasing, but her eyes daring him to play along. “And what is your woman—ya lil’ girlfriend? Exclusive bed privileges?”
Franklin chuckled low, leaning forward so their foreheads touched. “Nah,” he said, voice a little rough with amusement and something hotter beneath it. “My woman? She’s my woman. Ain’t no qualifier, ain’t no limit. You get all of me, Ray. You hear me? All of me. Bed, heart, mind… everything.”
Her lips twitched, fighting a laugh, but there was a spark in her eyes, that mischievous glint that had him hooked from the start. “Mmm, I like how that sounds… but you better mean it, Saint.”
“I mean it,” he said, tightening his hand around her hip, letting his thumb brush along the curve, grounding her to him. “No games, no running, no letting anyone else even look your way like they could claim you. You’re mine.”
She tilted her head, lips brushing his as she whispered against him, “And if I say yes… you gon’ remember this promise when life comes tryin’ to test you?”
Franklin pressed his lips to hers, slow at first, letting the words sink in through the heat of the kiss. “Every damn time. I don’t forget the woman I love, Ray. And you already know—I love you.”
Her hands moved from his collar down his chest, gripping him lightly, teasing him like a spark waiting to ignite. “Good… ‘cause my man better be able to hold me down,” she said with a smirk, letting the teasing edge roll off into something softer, something more intimate.
He laughed against her mouth, brushing her curls back, low growl threading his words. “Hold you down? Baby, I ain’t just holdin’ you down—I’m keeping you, always.”
Her smile softened, eyes glinting, and she leaned in closer, letting him feel how completely she was there with him, her body and her words syncing in perfect defiance of everything else around them.
99
Ray’s teeth tugged at her bottom lip, her smile blooming slow and a little shy before she finally nodded, voice soft but steady. “Then yeah… I’m your girl, Saint.”
Franklin’s chest tightened at the words—like he’d been waiting a lifetime for them. He let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, one hand sliding up to cup her jaw, his thumb grazing her skin with a reverence that had nothing to do with his usual swagger.
“My girl,” he repeated, almost to himself, like he was tasting it on his tongue. Then his eyes locked on hers, sharp and unwavering. “You don’t know what you just did to me sayin’ that.”
Her laugh slipped out, light and musical, though her gaze lingered serious as she studied him. “Oh, I think I do.” She tilted her chin up, brushing her nose against his. “Look at you. The Franklin Saint, lookin’ like somebody just handed him the whole damn world.”
He chuckled low, shaking his head as his hands tightened on her hips, dragging her closer against him on the counter. “Nah. Just handed me mine. That’s what you are, Ray. Mine.”
Her breath caught, but she didn’t shrink from the weight of it this time. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, leaning in until her lips hovered just above his. “Then if I’m yours, Saint… prove you know how to treat what’s yours.”
That playful challenge lit something fierce in his eyes. He kissed her—deep, slow, claiming—and when he finally pulled back, his forehead stayed pressed against hers. “I already started,” he murmured, brushing her lips again. “Cooked for you, held you down, told you the truth. And I ain’t stoppin’, not for nobody.”
Ray bit her lip again, but this time it wasn’t nerves—it was hunger, anticipation, something melting in her chest. She gave a small nod, her voice a whisper against his mouth. “Guess we’ll see if you can keep up with me, then.”
Franklin smirked, low and dangerous, his hands sliding lower along her waist. “Oh, I can keep up. Question is—can you handle me, Ray?”
Her laughter spilled out warm, curling into the air between them as she kissed him again, no hesitation, no defenses left.
100
Ray’s phone buzzed sharp against the counter, slicing through the warmth between them.
She groaned, rolling her eyes and sliding out of Franklin’s grasp. “Merde…” she muttered under her breath, snatching it up. The annoyance in her tone only grew as she answered, unleashing a string of rapid-fire Haitian Creole, her words sharp enough to cut.
Franklin leaned back on the counter, arms crossed, watching her pace the kitchen barefoot, sundress shifting with every turn. He didn’t need to know the language to feel the heat of her irritation. Whoever was on the other end, they weren’t keeping up with her.
Her voice raised, sharper, then she stopped short, pressing her palm to her forehead like she was already past fed up. More Creole, spit fast, clipped. Then—click. She hung up mid-sentence.
Ray slammed the phone down on the counter, cussing again under her breath. She closed her eyes, took a breath, then glanced at Franklin. “I swear you can’t leave boys to do grown women’s shit,” she snapped, her accent thicker from anger.
He smirked low, one eyebrow raised. “That right?”
Her lips twitched despite herself. She shook her head, exhaling through her nose. “You wanna see what I do? Really see it? Then stay close, Saint. Maybe we can talk mergers.”
“Mergers, huh?” Franklin’s tone was amused but his eyes were sharp, calculating. “Sounds like business and pleasure mixin’ to me.”
Ray tilted her head, stepping closer, her irritation shifting into that sly, dangerous energy he was starting to recognize as all hers. “Only way it works, no?” Her gaze locked with his, deliberate. “Oh, and Saint—” she paused, her hand brushing against his chest like she knew just how to distract him before she dropped it— “I got an idea about your colonizer problem.”
That caught him. Franklin straightened, his smirk fading into something cooler, intent. “Yeah? Then you better tell me.”
Ray smiled faint, lips curling like she already knew she had his full attention. “Later. When I got you where I want you.”
101
The ride stretched quiet, just the hum of the road and desert wind. Franklin leaned back in the seat, side-eyeing Mireille when the driver kept pushing further and further out, nothing but sand and heat rippling outside.
He finally let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “So what— you bring me all the way out here just to kill me?”
Mireille turned her head, eyes shining with mischief. Then she laughed, a light, melodic sound that didn’t match the emptiness around them. She tugged him close by his collar, pressing her lips slow and lazy against his until he felt like the world tilted. By the time she pulled away, he was half-drunk on her kiss.
Her whisper ghosted over his lips, soft but sharp: “Non, mon cœur… you’d only be dead if you betray me. And even then…” she smiled, sinful, “I think I’d want you inside me first.”
Before he could come back with something slick, she slid out of the car, heels crunching in the dirt. Franklin followed, eyes narrowed as she tapped the toe of her shoe twice against the barren ground.
Clang.
Metal rang out beneath the sand, the echo carrying. Franklin stiffened when the earth shifted, two massive steel doors parting from underground. Dust kicked up as machinery groaned. Then—stairs. Long, industrial ones, lit faintly below.
Two men with rifles appeared at the top, eyes sharp but heads bowed with respect. “Madame,” they said in unison, stepping aside. More men lined the steps all the way down, weapons in hand, but each nodding politely as she passed.
Franklin followed, jaw tight, every instinct in him on alert. But Mireille? She moved like this was her second home.
The deeper they went, the cooler it got, the hum of machines and faint echoes replacing the dry silence of the desert. And then—at the bottom, Franklin froze.
Rows. Long halls lined with steel-barred cells. The smell of sweat, concrete, and power.
“What the fuck…” he muttered under his breath, eyes scanning the faces behind the bars.
It wasn’t dope dealers or corner boys. It wasn’t even killers. These were clean men. White shirts, suits wrinkled from days locked up. And faces Franklin recognized—faces from the news, faces with authority.
He turned sharply to her. “This a private prison?”
Mireille let out a sharp scoff, rolling her eyes. “I’m not some Uncle Tom, Franklin.” She gestured grandly with her hand. “No. Look closer.”
He did. And when he did, his stomach flipped.
In one cell—two uniformed cops, badges still clipped to their belts, glaring but silent. In another—a city councilman Franklin had seen shaking hands with mayors. Judges. District Attorneys. CO’s. Even a DEA agent Franklin knew he’d seen tailing him back in the city.
Everywhere he looked—powerful people, stripped down and chained, pacing cages like they were nothing more than animals.
Franklin’s throat went dry. He dragged his hand across his jaw, eyes wide. “…You got mayors. Police. Fuckin’ alphabet boys—” he cut himself off, shaking his head. “You serious? You runnin’ a whole damn… shadow prison?”
Mireille’s smile was cold, faint, almost pleased. “Not shadow. Correction. Balance.”
She looked up at him then, her tone velvet but edged like a knife. “Everybody wants to lock up our people, Franklin. Tell me why we can’t put their monsters in cages, too.”
102
Mireille’s heels clicked against the concrete as she slowed, lifting her hand to gesture at the rows of cells. Her voice dropped to a whisper, the kind that carried anyway, smooth and deliberate.
“We’re head hunters, Franklin. Just like my people were back in Haiti. Sure—” her fingers flicked in dismissal, “we deal with weapons, with shipments, with products we can talk merging on. But this?” Her eyes cut to his, sharp, daring him to keep up. “This is what happens when people are beaten down too far for too long. Someone finally snaps. Someone finally snatches the monsters up.”
She stepped closer to one of the cells. A judge—Franklin knew that face, even remembered a headline about him handing down life sentences like candy—backed up instinctively when her gaze landed on him.
Her lips curved into something soft, dangerous. “And people? They pay a lot of money to see them like this. Even more for… controlled revenge.”
Franklin stood rooted, his shoulders squared but his eyes following every move she made. His stomach flipped as she continued down the row, her hand trailing over cold bars as if she were walking through a gallery.
“You mean—” he started, voice low, still processing. “You lettin’ people… pay to get even?”
Her laugh was soft, almost cruel in how pretty it sounded against the heavy air. “Not lettin’, Franklin. Offering.Structuring. Controlling. There is dignity in organization. Rage without direction is chaos—violence that doesn’t last. But here? Here it’s clean. Precise.”
Franklin dragged his palm over his mouth, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe it. He glanced at the DEA man caged like a dog, then back to her. “This some… next level shit. You runnin’ more than product—this a whole fuckin’ empire.”
Mireille’s eyes glittered as she turned back to him. “Exactement. And empires don’t last when you play small.”
She tilted her head, stepping back into his space, close enough for the heat of her body to cut through the chill of the underground. Her voice softened, curling into his ear.
“So tell me, mon cœur—do you want to keep fighting to survive someone else’s game, or do you want to start writing the rules with me?”
103
Franklin didn’t answer right away. He just stood there, jaw tight, staring at her like he was trying to read every line of her face and every shadow behind her words. The weight of the underground air pressed heavy on his chest, like the place itself was daring him to admit he understood it—daring him to step in or step out.
His hand rubbed slow across his beard, his eyes darting to the cages again. Politicians. Cops. Judges. Franklin had done time studying the way power bent systems, and now here it was—the same people who built the walls around men like him, locked inside their own.
He blew out a sharp breath through his nose, shaking his head with the kind of laugh that wasn’t really a laugh. “You mean to tell me… you got judges down here. Police chiefs. Fuckin’ DEA.” His tone dragged, incredulous. “And ain’t nobody sayin’ a word about it? Nobody’s comin’ knockin’?”
Mireille smirked, tilting her chin like the question almost amused her. “You think anyone comes looking for ghosts, Franklin? Monsters don’t get sympathy when they disappear. Their own houses built these cages—ours just flipped the locks.”
He stared at her, really stared. The way she stood with her arms folded soft across her chest but her presence was sharp enough to cut. It wasn’t bravado. It wasn’t bluff. She believed every syllable she spoke.
“Shit,” Franklin muttered under his breath, shaking his head again, eyes roaming the steel and concrete. “You really different. I thought I’d seen it all—the CIA, Colombians, them greedy-ass white boys tryin’ to eat off us. But this?” He paused, looking back at her. “This the type of thing… they write myths about.”
Her smile curled slow, deliberate, the kind that hinted she’d been waiting for him to say something like that. She stepped close, her voice softening even more as if only meant for him. “Or dynasties.”
Franklin’s throat tightened. He felt the pull in his chest, the hustler in him lighting up at the scope of what she was showing him. He could see it—the weight of it. Not just selling rock on the corners, not just moving bricks through ports. This was structure. This was leverage. This was power that governments feared.
But underneath that fire in his gut, there was something else. Something that made him keep his eyes on hers and not just the money in his mind.
“You know what this mean though, right?” His voice dropped low, serious. “You pull me into this, Ray… there ain’t no turnin’ back. Ain’t no halfway. Folks find out I’m tied to this—” He nodded toward the cages. “—then I’m marked same as you.”
She studied him in silence for a long beat, her lashes lowering before lifting again, eyes dark and steady. “Mon amour, you were marked the moment you put your first dollar into the streets. The difference is…” She slipped her hand against his chest, over his heart, her nails dragging lightly against his shirt. “…with me, you don’t just survive. You build. You own. You lead.”
Franklin’s breath hitched, his eyes narrowing just slightly at her words. He caught her hand, pressing it flat against him, his own thumb grazing her knuckles.
“I hear you,” he said slowly, voice thick with weight. “I hear all of it. And I’m not gon’ lie… part of me? Part of me hungry for this. ‘Cause this is bigger than anything I been dreamin’. Bigger than Teddy, bigger than them white boys who think they puppeteers.”
He leaned closer, eyes locked on hers now, a tension pulling tight between them.
“But the other part?” His jaw worked. “The man in me that just laid up with you last night, that just heard you say you love me? He’s thinkin’ about what it mean for you. ‘Cause this?” He gestured wide with his free hand, then back at her. “This ain’t just power, Ray. This is blood. This is war.”
Mireille’s smile softened at the edges, less sharp, more… knowing. She tilted her head, pressing closer until her lips hovered just over his.
“Then maybe it’s good I’ve finally got a man who’s not afraid of either.”
Her words melted into his mouth as she kissed him again, deep and lingering, the echo of chains and heavy doors clashing against the sound of her lips parting his. Franklin’s hands gripped her waist, his body taut, as if every nerve in him was fighting between pulling her deeper into him and pulling away from the empire she was dangling in front of him.
When he finally broke the kiss, he kept his forehead pressed to hers, breathing hard, whispering like he was talking only to her soul.
“…Ray, you gon’ get me in deeper than I ever been before.”
And she smiled like that was exactly the point.
104
Mireille’s hand slipped from his chest, curling around his wrist instead, tugging him gently but with certainty down another long corridor. Franklin followed, the hum of generators and the muffled thuds of boots above them echoing like a pulse through the concrete.
She pushed open a heavy steel door and stepped inside, and Franklin stopped dead in his tracks.
The room was massive—wide as a hotel ballroom, screens mounted wall to wall, each one glowing with grainy surveillance feeds. Rows of desks lined with equipment, radios, switches, thick binders stacked with reports, mugshots, names highlighted and crossed out. It wasn’t some makeshift operation; it was a system.
Franklin’s eyes sharpened as they roamed across the screens. Blocks of cells. Multi-levels. Rows upon rows of concrete and steel stretching further than he realized. Cameras on every corner, angles catching every movement.
“Jesus…” he muttered under his breath, dragging his hand across his beard. “This ain’t no lil’ side hustle. This… this a network.”
Mireille’s smile was calm, almost indulgent as she watched him absorb it. Then she stepped closer to the largest wall of feeds, the glow of the monitors dancing against her skin, and her voice dropped low, intimate but sharp like the edge of a blade.
“I’ve got something for everyone,” she began, her French-Haitian accent lacing each word with a musical sharpness. She lifted a hand, gesturing to the feeds as if presenting trophies. “Supremacists. Alphabet boys. Dirty cops. Other uniforms. The old politicians and police who busted down Panthers in the streets. Confederate fucks and their kin. Cartel lieutenants. Colombians. KGB.” Her eyes flicked toward him, the gleam in them daring him to question her. “Pick your poison, mon amour. I got flavors for everyone of our people.”
Franklin’s jaw ticked as he scanned the footage—faces blurred by distance but clear enough to read the history behind them. Rage and arrogance melted into fear inside those cages, into silence. He leaned forward slightly, his hand bracing the desk as his eyes darted between monitors.
“This some wild shit,” he muttered, his voice a mix of awe and disbelief.
Mireille’s smile widened faintly. She folded her arms, stepping closer, her tone softening into something almost conspiratorial.
“And it’s insured. Each of these people we hunt?” She nodded at the screens. “They got dirt so deep, so wide, that the top dogs don’t want it to trail back to them. They write off the losses—say it was accidents, heart attacks, cartel wars, kidnappings. But really?” Her lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smirk. “Really, I get the bodies. And I give our people options.”
She leaned against the desk, her hip brushing against his arm as her gaze lifted up toward the cameras again.
“Controlled revenge, Franklin. A way to balance the scale without burnin’ the whole world down. They took. We take back.”
Franklin was quiet for a long stretch, his chest rising and falling slow but steady. His mind ran back through every deal, every lie, every setup he’d lived through since he started hustling. The CIA, Teddy, the betrayals, the war for corners that never really belonged to him.
And here she was—standing next to him, offering something that wasn’t about scraps or fighting for leftovers. This was bigger. This was a whole different league.
His voice was low when he finally spoke, but there was a sharpness underneath, a weight to it.
“…You really out here runnin’ your own country underground.”
Mireille turned her head to him, her lashes lowering, her smile soft and knowing. “Not yet,” she whispered. “But with you? Maybe.”
Her words hung between them, the hum of machinery filling the silence as Franklin’s pulse thudded in his ears.
Grumpy beepo boy getting all warmly dressed to go see his friend who lives up in the cold, they haven been answering his letters lately, which is *very* unlike them, and hes worried, so hes getting dressed to pay them a visit :3c
You may meet a stranger out in the snow. Just keep your eyes down and nod politely as you walk past.
Resist the temptation. You have loved ones waiting for you, remember?
