#WITH ANDRE AND FUCKIN

[justa-smalltown-gargoyle]

If I had a nickel for every time Eric Kripke created a show where accidentally two “straight” male characters had a crazy amount of tension and chemistry but they tried to pass it off as just dudes being pals I’d have two nickels which isn’t a lot but it’s weird that it’s happened twice

[tjarry]

one for the road

[alitan99]

As per @wisecrackingeric-2 ‘s instruction, I am HAPPY TO SHARE MY CAMEO VIDEO FROM ANDRE PEÑA. LLUIS CAN SING YALL HERES THE PROOF. ENJOY

[kuberish]

My silly Warlock boy Yaten. He's so much more different from the DnD version that previously drew. His canon version is so full of himself :')

Which is why Andre is taking out the trash. Shouldn't have stolen any of his books :V

[bosspigeon]

i just googled how much blood the average human could lose without being in mortal peril without immediate medical assistance and also how much liquid the average human can drink at once without issue and i think it's safe to say that Moss's 7'3" 500+lb ass can let his lil vampire twink have as big of a sippy sip as he likes without needing more than a snack and a nap afterwards 😤

[crqstalite]

halsin im coming for your dumbass

[chocoplagg]

For that reason I really, REALLY hate Collusion and Revolution.

Dude, what's that stupid "I'll renounce my daughter because she is a bratty evil person, even if it's in part MY fault because I spoiled her every time"?!

And it's not helpful the Chris Chan moment on Revolution with the stupid "teenager being the mayor", just to treat Chloe as Hitler.

As a person with a dysfunctional family, I felt insulted with her treatment.

It's honestly awful what happened to her. I know she isn't a good person but nobody deserves to be disowned by their parents especially when their the reason why Chloe is like that .

Whats upsetting me more is the comments under this post .

[slimmestofshady]

Bad Habits Kill You- pt2

Warnings: Domestic violence (not between you and marsh), mentions of cheating, drug dealing, drug use, mentions of cocaine, guns.

The winter light of the morning peered in through the raggedy shades as you poured the last of the pancake mix into the bowl. Ellie was coloring still in her pajamas with messy hair, the last page of her book, soon you’d have to find something else to occupy her.

Sara bounced joyfully in her play pen, having an adoring smile spread across her innocent face, she was going to be heartbreaker when she grew up that was for sure.

Somehow, same way you were safe for another month from being thrown out on the streets. Marshall brought in two months worth of rent in a week. You hadn’t asked where he’s gotten it from nor did you want to know the answer so long as trouble wasn’t coming around the house and your girls were safe.

The phone ringing reeled you from your thoughts as you set down Ellie’s plate, kissing her on her forehead, mentioning to eat up before picking up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey it’s me..” Fuck, Marshall would kill you right now if he was here, Andre seemed to only fuel his anger. He typically wasn’t a jealous man, but perhaps he was because Andre had his shit together, his business was flourishing and maybe it was a bit odd that he kept you around with how much you had to call off or leave work early.

“I told you, you can’t call here anymore.” You released a breath if relief that he at least called the house phone before the cell you shared with Marshall, surely he would have called by now had Andre called the phone.

“I just wanted to check in, see if you or the girls needed anything, is that so bad? Besides how am i supposed to get ahold of you for extra hours?” Well no it wasn’t so bad, but in Marshall’s eyes it was. Andre was just a man trying to help and that hurt Marshall’s pride, he had never made a move on you personally, regardless of the nice comment he made to Ellie about you. Marshall didn’t need help from another dude, he didn’t want it, he didn’t want help from no one because he knew how it was. People will always want something in return cause of favor, that’s just how this town worked and he wanted no part of it if it meant a threat to his kids. He may be broke but there was another part to Andre he could see that you didn’t.

“Mommy who is that?” Ellie was always so curious as to what was going on around her, not that you blamed her there wasn’t much for her to do around the house anymore.

“Just talking to an old friend baby.” 

Meanwhile Marshall was on the outskirts of town, cig hanging from his lips while his arms crossed waiting on the dude to fuckin show up.

Glancing down at the barely charged phone, the guy still had 5 minutes.

When a conspicuous black car rolled up, Marshall was immediately on edge. That bitch was expensive and aint nobody in this town could afford some shit like that.

When the man rolled down the window he sighed before huffing and puffing.

“What the fuck took you so long bro? I’m out here freezin my fuckin balls off man!” The guy chuckled before getting out of his car. He was an old classmate of Marshall’s but heard about the trouble going around the block near his house. 

“You got what I asked for?” 

“Man, stop playin you know I always gotchu.” They both scanned out the area to ensure no one was around before Charles nodded off toward the car.

Typically he didn’t do this, but with the events at the house, Andre tryna steal his girl and the break in, he had to do something, even if it wasn’t necessarily right.

“Yo you still usin?” This question alone, especially coming out of left field made Marshall suspicious, he didn’t like sharing his shit around town, the less people knew about him the better.

“Depends, who wanna know?”

“Chill man, shit.” He reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a little baggy filled with white power.

“I know it ain’t your usual but here take this, it’ll take the edge off and keep you awake to watch yo baby girl, I know you care for her man.” He was hesitant at first, not having tried coke yet but he succumbed to his bad thoughts swiping the bag from the guy and pushing it deep into pant pocket.

He nodded off as a thanks, watching the man get back in his expensive ass car, shit he could only dream about.

Marshall walked through the door, smiling softly at the scene of you and Ellie fast asleep peacefully on the sofa covered in a blanket. Sara was up bouncing around, he was shocked she wasn’t crying or anything hut boy did her smile light up when she saw her daddy. 

He stepped around the creaks on the floor board carefully, setting down an envelope of cash down on the table before swooping up his baby girl delicately.

“Daddy’s here…” He patted Sara on the back softly, pecking her forehead repeatedly.

Her bright blue eyes sparkled in the dim light, reminding Marshall of why he did what he did. She made all the bad days worth it, she was just a piece of the boulder that was his family to keep him sane.

He walked around the room with her, eventually settling in her nursery, pulling out old photos of when your relationship was flourishing. Pointing Sara to herself in each photo. A couple shots of when she was first born in the hospital, Marshall remembering how happy you both were welcoming baby number two into the world.

Another portrait of this past christmas and her big blue eyes wide while she examined one of the stuffed rabbits you got her, her tiny hands grasping at the animal before whimpering.

He sniffed her bum seeing if she needed change but no, perhaps hungry.

Walking into the kitchen he took out the last baby bottle of milk, eventually sitting down on the recliner and reaching for a bib to place below the small of her chin. The room was quiet leaving Marshall alone with his thoughts once again. His eyes settling on your unconscious figure, holding Ellie closely to your chest, the scene washing guilt over him like a hurricane, knowing that he had lied and wasn’t planning on going back to rehab anytime soon. The questions were soon to come about where the cash was coming from and why he wasn’t attending meetings. His focus was on his kids, minimum wage jobs wouldn’t pay shit and he wasn’t about to work in a factory and risk having Andre babysit again, the man’s name fuels every fiber of hatred in his body. His goal was to protect his girls, his woman, that was it but shit there had to be some give in this vicious cycle he was putting himself through.

A knock at the door startled him from his thoughts, jolting you awake while Ellie stirred in her sleep. 

“Who’s at the door?” Your voice was as quiet as a mouse, Marshall passing you Sara in the process as he got up, looking through the shattered window from a fight he had with a guy on the block that went too far.

Looking through the peephole he was blindsided by the sight of his mom and her boyfriend, telling you to stay inside before closing the door softly.

“What I can’t come inside?” He tucked his hands in his pockets, not in the mood for any shit as he shook his head staring blankly at the woman who made him.

“Not with him you ain’t. When’s break up number seven, next week?” She rolled her eyes in response but still smiling softly, her boyfriend on the other hand already on edge. They’d never gotten along and they never will, Marshall still blamed him for being the reason his ma got into drugs. 

“My little rabbit, so full of testosterone. I just came to bring Ellie and Sara their presents, is that so bad?” If she stole them yeah it was, he had enough shit going on here he didn’t want to add more to the list. Instead of arguing with her, he grabbed the bag from her hand, checking the gifts for any pricetags or names on them but not finding anything.

“I told you I’m better now.” She looked back at her boyfriend who was staring off into the distance, kicking rocks and broken pieces of glass around.

Peaking through the window, you saw her taking a seat on the step. Glancing down at Sara who was falling asleep against your chest, you quickly but quietly put her down in her crib before swinging the door open, scaring her up from the wooden step, causing her to drop her cigarette in the process.

“I have two sleeping girls in here so if you are here to start shit, respectfully, please leave. I-“

“I’m handling it aight? Go back inside.” You shot daggers at Marshall before ignoring his request and coming out the door with your hands at your hips unimpressed at her bold attempt to think she could reconcile.

“Y/N, I was just bringing them their gifts, that’s it.”

“What nearly two months past?” She knew there was no getting on your good side after everything that happened when you were pregnant with Sara.

Marshall wanted to hear his mother out but at the same time was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He hadn’t forgotten about her actions and would never forgive her for that but he just wanted to keep the peace for right now. He held his ground asking her to leave once more when no further words were exchanged between you, that was when her boyfriend Carl stepped in, as if he were in a position too.

“Look, don’t act like you two are perfect people or perfect parents. People fuck up, who would no more about fuck ups than you Marshall right? That’s why your kid’s such a fuckin spoiled brat, why you living in a broke down trailer and workin the block right?” Marshall didn’t notice your questioning expression, instead pushing past his mom and grasping at his hoodie, tackling him to the ground before throwing a ruthless punch. Carl missing the second hit and slapping him across the face. You and his mom rushed over to break up the fight but they were stronger than both of you put together.

The low life, waste of space grasped at Marshall’s collar both of them grunting and yelling before he pushed him through the door, Marshall’s back hitting the old, raggedy carpet jolting your kids awake.

“Get off of him!” You yanked at Carl’s collar and his natural response regardless of you gender was to swing back at you, only for that to be the tipping point of Marshall playing nice.

He forced his head up nudging into Carl’s forehead roughly before taking back control, straddling his mother’s boyfriend and punching into his face relentlessly.

“Don’t you ever lay a hand on my fucking girl!” Finally pulling Marshall off of him, Carl stood up hastily, grasping his jaw and wiping at the blood on his face.

“C’mon, let’s go..” Carl didn’t move still shooting daggers at Marshall as his heavy ragged breaths  and bloody nosy made it obvious who won this fight.  With eyebrows raised and crossing your arms, irritation set in as you were exactly right somehow, someway this would turn into trouble, it always has when it came to those two.

“Whatever, enjoy your fuckin miserable life with your two bastards and whore of a girlfriend. I’m sure she’d let me tap that anytime, isn’t that right sweetheart?” He winked at you, Marshall jolting forward to hit him again but your hands rested on his shoulder pulling him back to reality.

“This isn’t worth it, he isn’t worth it baby..” The elephant in the room became obvious to his mother, knowing that now it was best to leave. Nothing was improving and Carl was trying to be a better man but all her little rabbit did was antagonize him in her eyes.

When they finally left and the door closed, the screen fell off the hinge, yet another thing to repair, just what you needed.

Marshall was hit with a wave of emotions when he saw his little girl cowering under the table, tears rushing down her heated cheeks while she covered her ears from the fighting.

He got down to her level on his hands and knees, softening his facial features to ensure her he meant no harm and the fighting was done.

“Baby c’mere. They’re gone, it’s alright, it’s okay.” Her little bottom lip quivered, her body shaking from the frightening scene. Her daddy was scary when he was mad but he’d never, ever lay a hand on her. After a moment she slowly crawled over to him, grasping at his shirt while she continued to weep into the crook of his neck.

You rushed to a screaming and crying Sara, cradling her close to your chest while your hand rubbed soothing, delicate circles into her little back, cooing endless reassurances that her mommy was here and everything was okay now.

You and Marshall exchanged a look of grief and sorrow mixed with a hint of aggravation that it was the same old shit on a different day. Were your girls ever going to grow up without the chaos and the hurdles life seemed to hit you with repeatedly.

This wasn’t the right time to discuss your relationship problems at the moment, instead setting the bullshit aside and focusing on your girls.

After getting them settled, Marshall walked to the corner store, picking up some dino nuggets and orange juice for their dinner, finally getting them to relax.

Once Ellie was occupied nearly crashing on the couch, you noticed Marshall still sitting at the kitchen table with his headphones on and a paper and pen in hand, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander about the money situation, how was he bringing it in without a job? Carl’s comment lingered in your mind but you took what the guy said with a grain of salt. No. It had to be something else.

Where was it coming from? Granted earlier in the day you were determined to leave the conversation alone, but it needed to be had soon.

Picking Ellie up carefully, you placed her in the bed in your room, still nervous about allowing her to sleep in her own room since her belongings were stolen.

As you passed by him with her tired head resting on your shoulder, you tapped him on the shoulder jolting him from his thoughts. You simply nodded toward the bedroom, indicating you were gonna try to get some shut eye since you had a double tomorrow due to work being slow and not needing you today.

A few hours later he waited until you were asleep, getting off the mattress lightly to not wake you or Ellie, kissing her on the head caringly before heading outside to the car. Checking his surroundings, he huffed grabbing the shiny black object Charles lent him from the glovebox.

Looking around once more, he tucked it into the pocket of his hoodie. He stayed in the drivers seat lighting a cigarette as his hands were shaking from how long he’d gone without any drugs.

Grasping the baggie, he stared at the white powder in the streetlight shining through the windshield, the glow of it’s threatening presence merely urging him to do it right here right now.

Opening it up, he spread the thin powder into a line on the center console, reverting to a old receipt on the floorboard as a way to snort it, he didn’t wanna risk getting it on the cash he was going to give the landlord.

The instant rush of euphoria and energy taking him by surprise, leaving him nearly breathless.

He found himself just starinf blanklessly out the windshield, watching a stray cat run across the street before shaking his head and going back inside before you woke up and wondered where he was.

Before he layed back down, he hid the gun underneath the mattress before resorting back to the table after finding it difficult to even think about sleeping with the new found surge of energy.

[v0dk4-f31n]

YOOOOOO LIGHT YAGAMI????

ah time to watch my favorite movie wait what the fuc

[armyyoftwoo]

another caldre noncon fic but w/ sub andre, and bloodplay (requested by anon)

guys i hope u enjoy this its like 4500 words which is way longer than i usually do but i had fun w this request!! its also now uploades on ao3 if anyone cares

andre laughed. "she really said that?"

cal fiddled with a loose razor blade between his fingers, the cold metal glinting under the dull light of his bedroom lamp. "she's stupid. i mean, i like her 'n all, but rachels stupid. you're no crazier than me."

andre leaned against the wall, his eyes flicking over cal's cluttered room. "dunno. i guess she's right. i can be a bit much."

"you're just not everyones cup of tea, that's all," cal said, shrugging his shoulders, his eyes still focused on the razor blade. it spun in his hand, the light playing off its sharp edge. "i don't think you're too much."

"thanks, i guess." there was a hint of sarcasm in andre's voice. "but really, she has a point. well, not a point, but you know. i understand where shes coming from. i'm scarier- i don't mean to be, but i am."

cal looked up from his blade, his expression serious. "no, man, you're not. we're in this together. equal parts scary."

andre laughed. "cal, you are not fuckin scary. i mean, maybe with a gun in your hand, but other than that, you come across as kinda," he paused, searching for the right words, "meek."

hearing andre describe him as meek was almost laughable. calvin gabriel was not fuckin meek. cal's face twitched at the remark. "meek?" he echoed, his voice rising slightly. he felt a sudden surge of indignation. "is that what you think of me?"

andre, caught off guard by cal's reaction, raised his hands in a placating gesture. "hey, man, i didn't mean it like that. it's just... people don't look at you and think 'dangerous' right away."

cal's eyes narrowed as he studied the razor blade, his thumb tracing the edge with a practiced ease. "maybe i'm just good at hiding it," he murmured, his voice tight.

"look, cal, i know you've got your shit, but you're not like that. you're... you're nice, you know? sweet even," said andré, clearly trying to smooth over the tension that had suddenly coiled around them.

cal's gaze didn't waver from the razor blade. "sweet?" he echoed.

"yeah, you know, like how you take care of me. you're always looking out," said andré, desperatly trying to clarify his point.

"do you not think im capable, of like, anything serious?" cal glared up at andré, the razor blade now still in his hand, the anger bubbling just beneath the surface.

andre took a deep breath. "of course i think you're capable of serious shit. i mean, zero day is pretty serious, right?" he said, "i mean, you're just not scary to me, since i know you'd never hurt me." he offered a small, reassuring smile. it only served to piss cal of further- did andre not see cal as an equal? did he not understand that cal was just as dangerous, if not more so?

"just because i can control myself doesn't mean i'm not as dangerous as you," cal spat out, his grip tightening around the razor blade. "you think just 'cause i dont freak out every five minutes that i'm not in this just as deep?"

andre looked at cal, surprised by the sudden hostility. "cal, chill, i didn't mean it like that. we're on the same page, remember?" he tried to reassure him, glancing around the room for something to distact cal with to diffuse the situation.

cal's knuckles turned white around the razor blade. "you're always underestimating me," he hissed through gritted teeth. "i'm not just some weak-hearted pussy who's going along for the ride."

andre sighed heavily, his annoyance etched on his face. "i know you're not, okay? it's just that sometimes you seem so... i don't know, so not into it."

with a sudden burst of energy, cal sprang from his chair, the legs scraping against the floorboards with a sharp sound that made the hairs on the back of andré's neck stand on end. before he could react, cal was on top of him, pushing him onto the bed with a surprising strength that belied his smaller frame. andré's breath left his lungs in a whoosh as he stared up at his friend, anger flickering in his eyes.

it didn't take much wrestling around to get the blade held up to andres neck, the sharpness of it cold and unyielding. "cal, come on, man, that's enough joking," andre chuckled nervously, his eyes darting to the side, looking for an escape.

it felt nice to finally not have to pretend, cal thought as he straddled andré, the razor blade poised at his friend's neck. the mask of innocence had been slipping for a while now, and it was exhausting to maintain.

"cal, seriously, get off of me. this isn't funny." andres voice quivered as he stared into cal's cold, unblinking eyes. cal's grip on the razor blade was unyielding, his thumb poised just right to draw a crimson line. the room grew eerily quiet, the only sound the erratic thumping of their hearts.

as cal leaned in closer, the smell of sweat and metal filled the air. he felt something strange, something he hadn't anticipated - an unwelcome stirring in his pants. he realized, with a jolt of self-loathing and excitement, that he was hard. he almost pulled off of andre, worried that he'd call him out, make fun of him for it. but then it clicked. andre was in no place to laugh. he wouldn't dare. not with the blade so close to his neck, not with the look of absolute seriousness cal hoped he was conveying.

cal took a moment to admire the sight that was andre kriegman, sprawled out beneath him. andre's cheeks were flushed with exertion, his breathing rapid. his eyes darted around the room, looking for anything that might serve as a distraction from the cold steel against his skin. cal felt a twinge of pleasure at the power he held over him. he wondered if this is what it'd feel like when zero day rolled around. he hoped so.

with a sudden jerk, cal fumbled with the drawstring of andré's sweatpants, pulling them down to mid-thigh. andré's eyes widened in shock, his heart racing even faster. "cal, what the fuck are you doing?" he squeaked, his voice high with fear.

cal brought the razor blade down with a swiftness that belied his earlier clumsiness. andré's body convulsed, trying to squirm away, but the movement was ill-timed. the blade sliced through his skin, leaving a crimson trail in its wake. the pain was immediate and intense, like a bolt of lightning tearing through his leg. andre let out a strangled yelp, his eyes watering. the blood began to flow, staining the fabric of his underwear and pooling on the bed.

"fuck!" andré yelped, his voice a mix of shock and pain. his eyes darted from the blade to cal's face, searching for an explanation. but cal's expression remained eerily calm, his pupils dilated with excitement.

the razor blade hovered over andré's trembling thigh, the line of red already forming a gruesome pattern on his pale skin. "cal. cal, that really fucking hurt!" he panted, trying to push cal away with his hands, but the latter's grip was like steel. "why'd you do that? fuck, get off, i need to stop the bleeding!"

cal ignored the desperation in andré's voice, his own mind racing with a thrill he hadn't felt in a long time. "you tried to squirm away," he murmured, his voice devoid of its usual awkwardness. "i told you not to." he leaned in closer, his breath hot against andré's neck, and andre tensed up, his eyes never leaving the blade.

the room was filled with the scent of fear and blood, a heady mix that only served to excite cal further. he felt his own heart pounding in his chest, his pulse racing as he traced the blade along the fresh wound. he watched andré's eyes water, the pain clear on his face. of course he was already crying- it was almost funny how low andres pain tolerance was.

andres eyes darted down to cals crotch, and back up again. cal could tell he was about to freak out. he wasnt sure if he felt bad or not. sure, he hadnt meant for it to get to this point, yet here they were. andre looked at him with a mix of fear and anger, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps. "cal, stop it, you're scaring me," he managed to say, his voice trembling.

scaring him. cal was scaring him. and he could see it in andres eyes, the way they widened, the way the pupils dilated. it was a heady feeling, one that made his own pulse quicken. and his cock throb. he didn’t expect this. he didn’t plan for it. but as the blade hovered over the fresh wound, the power rushed through him, a high he hadn’t felt in ages. it was exhilarating.

swipe. a second cut. a line, straight and precise. andre's leg jerked again, the pain searing through him, his voice hoarse as he yelled out. "cal! what the fuck is wrong with you?"

cal just stared at him, the blade still in his hand, a strange look of fascination on his face. "i told you not to move," he said, his voice calm, almost detached.

andre was *shaking* now. cal considered getting off him, but the feeling was too good to let go. he'd never felt like this before. powerful, in control, alive. "cal, this isn't funny," andre repeated, his voice shaking as much as the rest of him.

but as cal went to readjust the blade, his hand slipped, a drop of sweat making the metal slick. he swiped it down again, but this time, it was his own finger that felt the bite of the blade. a line of red appeared, so thin it almost didn't look real. "fuck."

cal didn’t make any move to get off and grab a bandage, just stared at the crimson bead forming on his fingertip with a strange fascination. the pain was there, but it was distant, almost as if it were happening to someone else. he brought his finger to his mouth and tasted the coppery tang of his own blood. it was oddly comforting, familiar.

but andre was still there, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and disbelief. "cal, stop. please." his voice was shaking, his whole body tense. cal realized he'd gone too far. he had to regain control before andre freaked out completely.

but andre was already freaked out. and really, what was the harm in pushing things a little further?

andres body jolted, and his eyes squeezed shut when cal yanked down his boxers. when he recovered, he glanced nervously at cals crotch, then back to the blade, and then back to cal's face. "cal, man, i'm not...i'm not like that. you know i'm not." he stuttered, his heart racing, his face burning with embarrassment. "neither are you. i know that. so just...just get off me, okay?"

cal stared at him, his expression unreadable. he hadn't expected andré to react like this. but he had to admit, the fear in his voice was like music to his ears. "what do you mean, 'not like that'?" he hummed, the blade hovering over andré's exposed thigh.

andre's eyes snapped open, the desperation in them palpable. "i mean, we're friends, cal," he whispered, his voice trembling. "i don't wanna do... whatever you're trying to start here."

cal's gaze was transfixed on the sight of andré's bare skin, the softness of his thighs a stark contrast to the sharpness of the blade. he felt his grip on reality slipping, the line between playful banter and dark reality blurring into one. the warmth of andré's body beneath him was a stark reminder of his vulnerability, and cal's heart hammered in his chest as he realized the power he had. he slid the blade away from andré's skin, letting the metal graze his inner thigh, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. andré's breath hitched, his eyes squeezed shut tightly as he waited for the next cut.

with a twisted smile, cal brought the razor back up, watching andré's muscles tense in anticipation of the pain. he didn't hesitate, slicing into the flesh again, this time creating an deeper slit. andré clamped a hand over his mouth. the warm, sticky blood began to seep out, the metallic scent filling the room, mixing with the salty tang of their sweat.

cal stopped when he realized andre was crying, his eyes wide and desperate. "quiet down," he murmured, his voice soothing despite the blade in his hand. "it's just a few styros, andre." he smiled, "it's not the end of the world."

andre's chest heaved, tears streaming down his face. "it hurts, cal," he whimpered. "stop."

cal looked at him, the blade still in his hand. and then, as if a switch had been flipped, his expression changed. he looked down at the blood, and then back at andre's tear-stained face. and then, something else took over. he looked down at his own crotch and paused, before pulling out his cock, the blood on his hand smearing onto the shaft. he stared at it, pulsing in the dim light of his room, and he knew what he wanted.

andre's eyes went wide, the fear turning to horror as he realized what cal was about to do. "no, no, no," he whispered, his voice shaking. "please, cal, don't. we're friends. fuck, we're partners. we're not supposed to—"

but cal was beyond listening. the blood had brought something to the surface, something primal and dark that had been festering within him for years. he leaned in, pressing the tip of his cock against andre's trembling thigh, the blood mixing with precum to create a slick mess. andré's eyes grew even wider, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps as he stared up at his best friend.

"cal," he whispered, his voice trembling. "please, man, this isn't right. we can't—"

but cal was in his own world now, his eyes glazed over as he leaned closer, the razor blade still poised in his hand. "just one more, andré," he cooed, his voice unnaturally gentle. "just one more and then i'll stop. i promise."

andre's eyes widened even further, his voice shaking as he begged, "no, cal, please. we don't need to do this." his words fell on deaf ears, though, as cal's grip on the blade tightened. he took a deep breath, his nostrils flaring with the scent of fear and blood.

with a twisted smile, cal brought the blade down again, aiming for a spot just below the first cut. but in his excitement, he applied too much pressure, and the blade sank deeper than he intended, hitting the layer of fat beneath the skin. andré's body arched off the bed with a muffled screech, his hand flying to the wound as if to hold in the pain. the sight of the deeper cut, the blood welling up and mixing with the fatty tissue, brought an unexpected rush of pleasure to cal's face.

the pain was searing, white-hot, and andré's eyes rolled back in his head. his breathing was ragged, his chest heaving with the effort to stay still. "oh god, oh god," he whimpered, his hand pressing hard against the wound.

cal's own breath was coming in short, sharp bursts now, his eyes locked onto the crimson mess he'd created. he was hard, painfully so, his cock pulsing with each beat of his racing heart. the blade was still in his hand, but it was no longer needed for the pain he sought to inflict. instead, he brought his hips down, grinding against andré's thigh in a desperate attempt to find relief.

andre let out a little shriek as cal began to grind his cock against his bleeding thigh. cal wondered if the neighbors could hear them, but the sound of his own pulse in his ears drowned out any other sounds. he pushed down harder, feeling the slickness of blood and precum mixing together, creating a strange sort of lubricant. he could feel andré's muscles tense under him, the tremors of pain and fear causing his thigh to quiver with each thrust.

"cal, stop," andré whispered, his voice barely audible. his hand was clamped over the deepest cut, trying to stem the flow of blood. "please, just get off me."

cal wasnt where he went wrong in life to have ended up in a situation like this. maybe it was all the weird porn he'd watched, the violent video games. maybe it was just that he'd been holding it in for too long, the anger and the pain. or maybe it was just because he was just fucked in the head. but as he felt andre's trembling thigh beneath him, the blood smearing against his own skin, he realized he didn't care. all he cared about was the power he felt in that moment, the absolute control he had over the other boy's body. it was a rush like nothing he'd ever felt before.

he pushed andres hand away from the deepest cut, the blood oozing out in a steady flow, revealing the yellow layer of fat beneath. it peeked out like a shy, grotesque sunflower, the edges of the wound gaping open. the sight of it made cal's stomach churn in a not entirely unpleasant way. he wondered what itd feel like to touch- to stick his finger inside and feel the squishy wetness, to see if he could make andre scream louder.

nothing was stopping him, he realized with a sudden, wild euphoria. he could do whatever he wanted, and andre wouldn't stop him. not with the blade in cals hand and the blood on his thigh. so he leaned down and kissed andre, hard, his teeth clicking against his teeth. andre's eyes went wide, and he tried to pull away, but cal's grip was too strong.

cal's tongue forced its way into andré's mouth, tasting the salt of his tears. andré's body went rigid, his whole being screaming in protest. he tried to push cal away, but his hands were too slick with blood to gain any purchase. cal's tongue danced around in andré's mouth, feeling the warmth and wetness, the taste of fear. it was exhilarating.

as cal pulled away, panting, a cruel smile played on his lips. "you know, andré," he said, his voice thick with lust and malice, "you're not so tough after all." he took a moment to appreciate the horror in andré's eyes before his hand moved down to the gaping wound on his thigh.

"cal, ohmygod, don't," andre's voice was barely a whisper as he watched cal's hand move towards the open wound. "please, man. i'm sorry for whatever i did to make you mad." his voice was shaking, his body trembling underneath cal.

but cal's mind was made up. he wanted to see how far he could take this. he pushed his finger into the wound, and andré's whole body convulsed. he let out a little whine, his eyes squeezing shut as cal explored the inside of his leg. cal looked back up just in time to see andre turn his head to the side and retch, vomit spilling out onto the comforter. the smell hit him, but he didn’t move, didn’t stop.

andre's body was shaking, his breath coming in hitches as he sobbed uncontrollably. tears and snot ran down his face, and cal felt a strange mix of pity and excitement. he'd never seen andre like this before. never seen the tough, angry kid break down so completely. it was...beautiful in a fucked up way.

cal pulled his finger out of the wound with a wet pop, the blood sticking to his skin. he brought it up to his mouth and sucked it clean, watching andré's reaction. his sobs grew louder, his body trembling as he tried to scoot away. but there was nowhere to go, not with the way cal had him pinned down.

and then, without warning, cal shifted his weight and ground his hips down, his cock rutting against andré's soft dick. the feeling was foreign, but it didn’t dull the excitement. andré's body went rigid, his eyes wide with shock and disgust. he tried to push cal away again, but his hands slipped on the blood-soaked comforter.

cal's eyes rolled back in his head as he felt the softness of andré's cock against his own, the horror of the situation lost in the haze of his newfound power. the warmth of andré's blood was like a siren's call, urging him onward. he moaned, his hips moving in a rhythmic pattern, the friction of skin on skin sending waves of pleasure through his body. andré's dick was hardening now, despite his fear, the body's involuntary response to stimulation.

cal buried his face in andres shoulder, his teeth digging into the soft flesh as he rutted against andre's hardening dick. andre's body was a taut bowstring of fear and disgust, but his traitorous body was responding to the pressure, his cock swelling with each desperate thrust. cal felt a little bit of pride at that, at his power to make andre react even when he didn't want to. he took andre's hand and guided it to his own cock, the stickiness of the blood making it even more slippery. "touch it," he breathed into andre's ear. "please, just touch it."

"i don't wanna," andre managed to choke out, his voice thick with fear and revulsion. "please, cal. 'm dont wanna touch it."

but cal's grip was firm, his hand wrapping around andres own, guiding it down to his cock. he felt andre's hand shake, but eventually, his friend's trembling fingers curled around his length, the blood on his hand making everything slippery and warm. it was a strange, almost comforting feeling.

cal groaned, his hips bucking up against andres hand. "that's it," he murmured. "just like that."

andre's hand was a clumsy mess, his grip too tight, his entire body trembling, but cal didn't mind. the mere fact that andre was touching him was all he needed. he continued to thrust against him, his breathing growing more ragged by the second.

and then, without any warning, it was over. cal's body went rigid, his hips jerking up once, twice, and then he came, spurting hot cum onto andre's stomach and chest. the suddenness of it took him by surprise, and he couldn't help but let out a little gasp of embarrassment. he pulled back, his face flushing, the blade finally slipping from his grasp to clatter onto the floor.

andre was crying now, his body a mess of blood and cum and vomit. he looked up at cal with a mix of anger and fear, his eyes glittering with unshed tears. "cal- cal, i need to stop the bleeding- theres, fuck, theres so much blood-"

cal paused, his breathing heavy, his mind racing. he looked down at the mess he had made, the blood and cum and vomit staining the comforter. he kind of regretted loosing control like that. atleast itd been andre, and not rachel, or someone like that.

it was weirdly hard to go back to his usual facade after that. it took him a moment to consider what to say, how to act. he opened his mouth, hesitating before finally speaking. "oh- oh my god, dude, fuck, i-i didn't mean to do that," cal said, his voice shaking with what he hoped was a convincing mix of horror and regret. he rolled off of andre, his legs feeling like jello. "i'm sorry, andre. i don't know what came over me. does it hurt?"

andre was a mess, his eyes wide and wild, his hand still clutching at his leg. "yes," he whispered, his voice shaking. "yes, it fucking hurts, what kind of question is that?"

cal swallowed hard, trying to push down the smugness that threatened to bubble up. he had to play this right. "i'm gonna help you up, okay? and we can get some bandages." he offered a hand to andre.

♡

an hour later, they were sitting in the bathroom together, the water a murky red from the blood that had been washed away. andré's leg was bandaged up now, but he'd still yelp whenever cal accidentally bumped against it. cal on the other hand, was sitting on the edge, his legs in the water, sobbing into his hands.

he looked at andre through red rimmed eyes. "i'm sorry, 'dre. i'm sorry for everything. i'm just...i'm a monster," cal said, his voice cracking with each word. "i don't know what's wrong with me. i've never done anything like that before." his sobs grew louder, his body shaking with the force of his emotions. he hoped he looked remorsful enough.

andre stared at him, his expression unreadable. "you're not a monster, cal," he said softly, his voice thick with pain. "you're just...fucked up."

cal paused, for a second, before rememberimg his act. he took a deep breath, his chest heaving with fake sobs, his shoulders shaking. "i'm such a piece of shit," he choked out, his eyes squeezed shut. "i can't believe i did that to you, andre. i'm so sorry."

andre looked up, his eyes red and swollen from crying. he took a deep, shaky breath. "cal, man, it's okay," he murmured, reaching out a trembling hand to his friend. "it's not your fault. i know you didn't mean to."

cal grabbed his hand, clinging to it like a lifeline. "i really didn't. and i'm sorry. i'm just- i'm disgusting. you think im disgusting now, don't you?" he said, his voice cracking.

andre squeezed cal's hand back, the warmth of his touch surprisingly gentle. "no, man, you're not," he murmured, his voice thick with pain. "you just...you just had a moment. we all do." he took a deep, shaky breath. "please don't cry. i'm not mad at you. we're still friends."

cal leaned against the bathroom tiles, his shoulders shaking with his forced sobs. he whispered a silent 'thank you' to the heavens above, grateful that andre was so desperate for companionship that he would overlook what had just happened.

wiping his fake tears away, cal took a deep, shuddering breath, still trying to mimic the sound of someone genuinely upset. he sniffled, a bit too loudly, and then spoke, "andre, come on, man. you're hurt. let me help you 'outta the bath. i can take care of you." he hoped the mix of guilt and concern in his voice was enough to convince andré of his remorse.

andre looked at him with a mix of confusion and pain, but eventually, he nodded. what a gullible fuck, cal thought to himself, feeling a twinge of something close to admiration for the ease with which andré accepted his apology.

"i love you, man," cal said, his voice a little too high pitched.

"i love you too." andre replied, looking down. cal had to resist the urge to roll his eyes at the naive declaration.

[ammodup]

hii!! if u dont mind, could u do some submissive cal hcs pls? :3

Of course !! :D

Bottom Submissive Cal

Before Calvin and Andre had sex for the first time, Cal hadn’t really been fond of the prospect of taking it up the ass, even though he and Andre would be the only ones to know. Well— Cal didn’t really mind it necessarily, yet he did at the same time, if that makes sense. Essentially, Cal knew that at some point he’d have to let Andre see him, let him touch him and all— but he honestly kept putting it off. Kept brushing off Andre’s advances every time the other teen put his hand on his ass or inner leg. Later, Andre was initially kind of apprehensive to take Cal’s virginity, not wanting to accidentally hurt him, even though Cal insisted that he going to be fine.

When Andre jerks him off, the teen rubs his thumb over the slit on the tip of his dick, either mumbling out a soft, “You like that, Cal? You’re so fuckin’ wet… yeah, fuck, look at you,” or a hissing out a rough, “You’re such a messy little bastard. Why d’you cum so fucking easily? Horny bitch,”— Calvin’s fair-skinned cheeks redden at his observable taunts, and his groans become strained and animalistic; he sounds like some animal whining. Calvin enjoys it when Andre manhandles him, when he treats him like he’s lesser than, and his cock certainly does, too. Because he knows he’s at the same level as Andre— but feeling so… inferior compared to the older teen, at times, turns him on.

Cal and Andre have fucked before falling asleep before. They were in Cal’s bed, and Andre had gotten a bit of a “stiffy” after he and Cal were messing around and wrestling. Cal jokingly calling him “lieutenant” really made his cock twitch in his shorts. When they were doing missionary, he had to pat Cal’s cheek to remind him to be silent, and he clasped a hand over Cal’s mouth and forced him to be quiet, whispering a sharp, “Shhhh… c’mon, Cal, shut up. You’re getting too loud. C’mon now— do you want them to hear or some shit?”,, and needless to say, Cal shut his mouth. Eventually, they had to shift positions, with Cal on his hands and knees for Andre and Andre fucking into him slowly— yet his asshole still ended up all puffy and red after. It was better this way, with Cal whimpering into his pillows, getting drool all over the fabric. Andre ended up falling asleep on him, his shaft slipping out of his ass.

Cal has sensitive skin and gets rashes easily, so even the most minor scratches and lacerations result in his skin getting puffy and inflamed for a little while— only really for the rest of that day, though. Penetration to his asshole results in the rim getting swollen and red… Andre likes that. He feels like he owns him, like they own each other, and he knows Cal feels similarly because he hasn’t asked Andre to be gentler with his thrusts. When Calvin cuts himself, Andre gets easily aroused while watching the region encircling the thin, bloodied line extending across his wrist or thigh bulging and shifting into a light shade of pink. Sometimes he wonders if Cal has allergies.

Andre uses a lot of rhetorical questions to get Cal flustered. He kind of can tell what Cal’s body language entails when it comes to their intimacy. If he’s being shy, Andre knows he wants it. Cal isn’t shy around Andre anymore. He knows how much of a psycho he really is. If he’s being forward, Andre definitely knows he wants it. Andre doesn’t want them to get caught, either, even though the thrill of doing something kinda risky is appealing. But Cal and Andre will never risk fooling around in public places. Their bedrooms, the woods sometimes, and Andre’s car are one thing, but anywhere else is a no-go— unless they know the area is secluded, like the school bathrooms. They gain thrills from other activities, such as self-harming.

Cal easily cums in his boxers when he and Andre are dry humping or when he holds a gun up to his head. Because Calvin isn’t really afraid of dying anymore or of the prospect of the trigger somehow going off; he never has— he only remembers that fear from when he was younger. But it wasn’t necessarily a fear. It was just a sense of dread toward losing control of himself and his life, his living self. Now that he’s older and getting ready for Zero Day with Andre, he’s accepted the knowledge that he is going to die. The kindest way to go out is to go out with his boy, and he’s fully prepared to see what’s on the other side with the other teen.

[gwynfahr]

Like for real, I want theeeeeeem

they’re so loud byeeeeee 😭😭😭

[wide-nose-and-wonderful]

SNOWFALL SEASON 4 Franklin.

Pairing: Franklin Saint x Soft Black Fem Reader!

Warnings/Type: Established Relationship. Hurt/Comfort, Soft Smut. Use of the n-word. ONE SHOT!

Summary: With life spinning out of control and the war ragging in the neighborhood, you come to find that you are alone more and more under the watchful eye of Peaches. Being without Franklin has started to get to you. Can he convince you that brighter days are ahead?

Word count: 8,083k / Please consider leaving a comment to show some love and support. Like this story? To read other works please check out the Masterlist.

“I was just gon' let sleeping dogs lie, but then you had to go behind my back. Talk about my bidness, and create a whole shit storm of problems for me and mine and I can't have that. Can't lay in bed at night knowin’ that at any minute my future can't get blown up by my past. So, if there's somethin’ you wanna say to me, somethin’ you wanna get off your lil chest then please say it now because after this I promise, I fuckin’ promise you there are no more chances!”

“Alright. There's one thing. Tell me the truth you'll never hear from me again. Admit that you killed my daddy. Be man enough to tell me that I'm not crazy. Give me that at least.” 

“Bye Mel. Take care of yourself.” 

…

When Franklin Saint walked into Dallas Fort Worth international airport at 5:45PM, on Sunday March 22nd, in the year of 85, he wasn’t sure at what point his childhood left him. When he committed his first murder or when he lost his shoes and encountered RayRay and his boys in jail. 

In the end, it disappeared. 

The old Franklin was somewhere blowing in the wind and gone like a distant memory long ago left behind. At times when the world managed to get quiet enough, he thought about Kevin, about the time he’d taken them to the beach. How amazing it was. So amazing. So new for Leon and Kev. Did he miss that version of himself? Or was he okay with the new one? Those questions remained unanswered in his subconscious yet to be challenged, but the point was growth wasn’t it? There was no way he would have remained the same through all of this. All the bullshit. While he may have looked unchanged, the mind matured with strategy. He’d married the game. Formed an unbreakable wow. Such logic justified the journey. Justified everything that led to him straying the course just to find Melody in Odessa to make a point. He would not tolerate being fucked with, even by the girl he once loved.

He never wanted to kill Andre Wright, and made no tangible confession. Only a slight nod of confirmation for the girl next door. 

He owed her more then that he knew, but fuck it. Life goes on. The past had to stay the past, so he never let a word be heard from his lips. She couldn’t handle the truth even if she craved to have it.

Seeing her again amplified the pain of being shot. He did not expect it. But he would carry the scars of her murder attempt for the rest of his life. A cold hard memory, forever edged in his flesh. Keloided in three different places on his back, the reality haunted Franklin most nights, and he would wake up in cold sweats with the sound of a gunshot ringing in his ears right after seeing the light leave Andre’s eyes and transport him to whatever came next, that undoubtedly awaited them all. 

He remembered the blank look set to Mel’s glazed hues. Maybe she'd been cracked out on the day of the funeral, but her ominous gaze damn near swallowed him up. He’d left this woman heartbroken without a father, so he understood her hatred. He'd eliminated her protector. Never the intention, but being a police officer, Aundre became a bigger problem than Franklin had been willing to accept. What happened to Jerome, couldn't happen again. Still, walking away from Mel that day had to be one of his saddest goodbyes. Just another one to add to the collection of regrets and hard decisions lost in his path to freedom. 

The game owed no loyalty to the past. 

It changed and transformed faster than the young L.A native could blink an eye. He moved with it, leaving things he once knew behind for better or worse. 

Franklin wasn’t a fool. As soft as the nature of a woman could be, there was no way he could have two. Even in his mind. So, he did what needed doing.  

Franklin learned alot about sacrifices and brutality. A great pain hid behind the action of the will it took to put a gun to Aundre’s head and pull the trigger. The same will it took to stop Kevin from kicking off a race war. Or the tears he couldn't stop when he watched his mother board the plane to an uncertain future without him in it. Pain Franklin kept hollowed. The same pain led him to hit Alton with the back of his gun the night he'd confronted him about the reporter he’d been talking to, which made business with Teddy less than pleasant. Franklin would be lying if he didn’t admit he’d looked up to Andre in some aspects. 

His father was absent for a significant part of his life, either by addiction or choice. To make up for his absence, Franklin collected father figures. Men he could count on for some type of pathway to adulthood. He molded and modeled himself after these examples, taking bits and pieces from different sources in the neighborhood. The old gray head who owned the liquor store, or Mr. Dunkin, who’d been well known for fixing cars at half price. Or Aundre Wright, who although Franklin thought a sellout, had only wanted the best for his little girl.  

Fucking Alton. 

Every now and then, the former Black Panther’s words would roll back in Franklin’s memory like a bursting tumor. 

You are killing us all. Don’t you see that? 

He didn’t like it, but success always came at someone else’s expense. That was the entire foundation of the American Dream. What America was built on. A lie sold to those who never had a chance at it anyway. Someone had to lose in order to win. In this case Aundre and Melody Wright, Fat Back, Courville, Khadijah, and the list went on. The unlucky contenders, and for that he was sorry.

Franklin shut his eyes to drown out the noise. Just business. He couldn’t let the shit get to him. To think that it became personal. He never planned to destroy his own people. His moves all had the same objective. Freedom. A way out of poverty. A better life for his mother, a brighter future for himself. He sure as hell wouldn't get that kind of opportunity at college, and he damn sure wouldn't be anything sitting behind a desk all day kissing the white man's ass like some good house nigga. To help his people once he got his own shit right, that was the goal. It would all just take time, but he'd turn it around. Most never even thought about that when they came up on an opportunity for a little bit of money. He’d convinced himself he’d be different from the majority. He’d be the one to do what others before him hadn't. He never meant to hurt anybody, even if he wanted so desperately to win. 

Family. 

Manboy spoke on family one time. But, the motherfucker said a lot, all the time. He’d talked about how he’d lost respect because right and wrong hailed more weight when Franklin refused to give up his people for the death of Skullys little girl. Manboy on the other hand had been ready to take his own out if it meant standing on principle. 

Leon without a doubt was Franklin’s family, his best friend, and the reality of that truth was the reason he’d made the conscious choice to make Manboy an enemy. Despite that, Franklin would be lying if he thought the niggas words didn’t hold at least some weight. 

You think you gon make it outta this? These niggas, they gon’ turn on you. 

He looked Manboy right in the eye when he pulled the trigger, ending his life. The very first time he felt absolutely nothing. 

The game showed him a lot of things.

Franklin convinced himself that when it came to Manboy, it all boiled down to survival. He had broken his own word to save Leon and to protect the source of his power, the plug. But Lee was his family, and losing Kevin had been enough. Him and Lee, they'd made this journey together ever since their encounter with korvell. So he rendered him protection. 

Still, he wondered who’d be the next one to press the knife into his back. He would never consider Jerome, Louie. 

Feeling rather incomplete without the cane he’d left behind at the church for Melody’s last and final reminder of him, Franklin shifted his stance while he waited in line as his mind settled. Amidst all the chaos there seemed to be a light at the end of the tunnel.  

Had he found the one this time? A woman who could help him grow his empire? 

Franklin took out the photograph. He carried it in his pocket. Cissy had taken it in the living room one afternoon. A different version of the moment existed, one that did not belong to him. His eyes drank in everything. From the almond hues, to the beautiful melanated complexion that complimented him so well. Skin that looked painted on. A smile that required nothing in return which greeted him whenever he'd come in from battle. From taking on the world. The best part, it didn’t just exist within a picture. He had something tangible. The living breathing experience of authentic partnership. Real. 

Could a man exist without his appetite? Whether for wealth or purpose-made. A woman. Such a divine combination reminded him of Fire and Smoke. They had a catastrophic attraction. But when it was right. It was right. A compliment to his genetic makeup. Balance. Hard, soft. Masculine, feminine, woman, man. It all aligned. He’d found his peace somehow through all the chaos. Franklin smiled to himself. He couldn’t wait to return to it. To peace. 

The airport bustled with travelers. Franklin kept his eyes on the large board of flight plans while searching his pockets until he’d made it all the way to the front of the line and placed his ticket on the counter top. He watched the woman take it and begin to type something into her computer. 

“Oh. I’m so sorry. This flight got canceled.” She placed the ticket on the surface of the counter and slid it forward toward him.  

Franklin took it up skeptically. He needed to be back in L.A. The trip to Odessa was supposed to be quick and easy. “What. You sure?” 

“Mmm hmmm.” She peered down at the register. “Yeah, next time I have is 7 in the morning tomorrow, sir. Looks like you’re making yourself comfortable in Odessa for one more night.” 

She pulled a facial expression. One that articulated this half ass sorry in so few words. Franklin might have found it comical, if the new information hadn't frustrated him. 

He needed to be back.

The young drug lord stood silent. Too long. The person behind him cleared their throat, pulling Franklin back to the reality of the situation. He licked his lips and took the ticket, shoving it in his pocket in a messy fold. He gave the woman a quick grin, forced by the tension in his jaw. 

Franklin moved from the line and walked away as he muttered a low ‘fuck’ through gritted teeth.

….

To most people the space would read as a regular school auditorium. Nothing special. But for you it felt like a huge stage at a big opera house with a million eyes staring at you. And this, almost being what one would call a final performance.

Everyone dressed in fancy clothes and talked in hushed voices. You were nervous, but excited. You had never played for such a grand audience before, or any audience for that matter. A lot of what you'd created never saw the light of day. It stayed very much hidden, away from public scrutiny. Tonight you were taking a chance. That bold opportunity to finally be heard. Only, the words would fall upon deaf ears, to the person who they'd been meant for.

Two distinct times, you could remember two distinct times when the night sat still and Franklin had disturbed the quiet with his jolt awake, drenched in sweat and gasping for air. The second time was the worst. It took almost an hour to convince him he wasn’t where he thought. In prison, surrounded. He could never describe to you the haunting images from his nightmare, but you knew that the war in which he found himself had taken its toll. Caught up to him. He suffered this suffocating fear and guilt with memories that threatened to consume him, always. You weren’t sure he would welcome your arms on that one occasion that changed everything, but his guard had lifted with time and trust. Then without hesitation when you saw such a small opportunity, you wrapped arms around him and pulled him close, holding him tight as he trembled. If he ever cried he wouldn’t let you see it. But you knew he wanted to, and often. As some form of release, you became the substitute. He poured his pain into you in the form of intimacy and sex. So from that point forward, all you ever wanted to be for Franklin was Comfort, Safety, and Peace.  

But that meant an even exchange. 

Bottom line. He should be among those in the auditorium. That was all you could think as you stood behind the curtain listening to the tune the current pianist played. You hadn't asked for much. Nor required a great deal. So then, you had to strike the feeling of being let down, although disappointment was not something foreign to you. Truly, you'd known it most your life, but somehow you'd convinced yourself that this time would be different. That this man you’d chosen to invest your time into was different. This man who’s word you chose to cling to. 

You were dressed in the beautiful rose pink gown that you had carefully chosen for the night. You’d been waiting for this evening for weeks and finally the soft chiffon fabric hugged your curves and made you feel glamorous. A special occasion, you spent hours perfecting your hair and makeup for the elegant evening ahead. You even put on silver high heels, which had been unlike you. And your hair was braided in four large french braids that inner connected into a large roped bun. 

“Well maybe he will make it. Maybe if we just wait a little while longer. I can try and speak to the director, just so he has time to get here.”

Remembering the conversation, you hated how annoying your voice sounded with so much hope and optimism. Peaches, his right hand and the one whom he had to stay with you, of course brought you back down to reality. 

“I'm sorry. But he ain't gonna make it.” 

Why did you fight with yourself even when the truth was right in front of you? You shouldn't have let him go to Odessa. Wait. Let him? You had to check yourself on that one. Franklin was a grown ass man. He would have gone with or without an okay from you, and you knew that. You figured that the trade off was the promise he'd made to show up. 

‘Won't take long. Fly there, fly back. Round trip. Simple. Just, somethin’ I gotta do. All this is almost over. Aight babe?’ 

Business. You accepted that sometimes your wants and needs had to be put on the back burner. Fine. Sacrifice happened in any relationship for any couple. That was to be expected. But did give and take happen also? That was where you saw the unbalance when it came to you and Franklin. You gave and gave and gave with little to show for in return. The relationship you’d had with your father growing up was something of a similar occurrence. You’d wait by the window holding on to empty promises of his return to spend time. A return that never came. He thought that time could be made up with gifts, those cold lifeless objects that held no meaning except disappointment. He’d traded you for an appetite he’d had for the women he’d left your mother for, and you of course were no exception to this selfishness. In the end, he left you both. 

Only for this man. This man that had come into your life, Franklin Saint, you did not wait by the window. Instead you tried to search for his face in a sea of onlookers as the allpause mellowed out and the announcer called for you to make your way onto the stage, sparking a whole new wave of anticipation from the crowd. Peaches could be wrong. Franklin could have made it, and to your surprise have found his seat in the vast expanse of strangers to watch you perform a piece he’d encouraged you to finish. A piece of music he’d said had been the moment he fell in love with you when you first played it on a Wednesday. 

A song written for him. 

“There are no words,” you warned as you held the sheet of music to your chest like a well kept secret. 

“That's fine.” 

You were sure to make note of his eyes and the tantalizing grin he held when he said the next part. 

“Some things don't need um.” 

You couldn’t help it, you took his words to heart. So with a deep breath you walked on the stage. 

Maybe not a million, but there were a lot of people already there. A good forty, although your eyes could have betrayed you in the count. You faced forward focusing only on the path. If you looked too hard, the moment would swallow you up and devour you whole. 

When you made your way to the piano and sat down, there came a pounding in your chest. Nervously you adjusted the bench and placed fingers on the keys. You closed your eyes trying to fight back the want, that burning need to look out in the crowd one last time before you began to play.

At first your hands were trembling, but soon the music began to flow from your fingertips.Starting off slow as you followed the sheet music, you allowed the notes to linger in the air. 

People had begun to pay attention. 

You hoped the music would take them on a journey. A journey of your and Franklin’s love story. From the light and airy notes to the deep and soulful melodies, it spoke of everything. The nightmares, and demons that chased him. The compromise and the love it took to hold on. How much you loved him. And a question in certain notes; did he love you just as much? It couldn't be described in words. But maybe if the tune traveled high enough, the wind would carry the song all the way to Odessa, and remind him to remember you were still back in L.A, waiting. 

Your fingers flew over the keys, as if they had a mind of their own. This strange wave of emotion coursed through your body as the notes filled the room.

The crowd, entranced and engaged made you feel more comfortable, so you began to pick up the pace. They must have been mesmerized. The only noise in the room had been your song speaking from the inner workings of a man made creation. As the music grew, your fingers moved faster and faster, as if dancing with the notes.This dedication to Franklin Saint.

When you finally finished, the room erupted into applause. You had played on the piano, yours and his story, and had done it, magnificently. This small surge of pride trickled in as you stood up and bowed. You realized only when you took the second bow that tears were streaming down your cheeks in hot trails of accomplishment and disappointment. 

…

The sun had just started to peek over the horizon, casting a warm orange glow while you drove down the highway with the smell of Peaches joint filling the space in the Lincoln continental. 

It was your favorite time, sunrise, when the city was just starting to wake up.

The palm trees swayed in the gentle breeze, the skyscrapers glinted in the sun, and the Hollywood sign loomed in the distance. The city had its fair share of chaos and traffic, but there was something magical about it so early in the morning. It was as if L.A was a blank canvas, waiting for its inhabitants to create something beautiful as the day progressed.

You turned up the radio, humming along to the tune of your favorite song as you took in the sights around you with eyes still delicate and sore from all the crying you had done hours after returning from your performance. Although you tried to stifle your cries into the sems of pillow cases, you knew Peaches had heard you. So that morning when he told you Franklin had paged him that he was back in town, he never asked about the redness of your eyes. The two of you boarded the car in silence and Peaches, like always, only followed instructions. 

It was a winding road that brought you, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation as Peaches neared the destination. The airport where Franklin would be waiting. 

The possibilities for the day ahead seemed endless when you pulled up to the sliding doors to find him standing outside of them. 

Peaches got out first, and your gaze drank Franklin down to his shoes. There was something missing. Hesitantly you took hold of the handle on the door and opened it, getting out before shutting it behind you and approaching. 

He’d met you half way and pulled you into a hug. L.A had been warm, but Franklin held a different type of warmth and you basked in it before you sniffed back tears. “Are you okay,” you murmured into his chest. 

Franklin pressed his hands on your back. It was no longer a gentle hug, but one in which he tried to express himself. Say in little words that he'd been glad to see you. His hands spoke as if it had been longer than a day. Like this hug made up for all the times he'd left you. “Yeah,” came out simple, but there was something attached to it. Closure. “How was the-”

You sat up and broke away from his hold. “Fine. It went fine. No big deal really. Didn't mean anything.”

Franklin was staring at you with this look. Hard to describe. Nonetheless filled with emotion in the eyes at least. His face in general remained stoic. “I'm sorry.”

To counter that you smiled through hues under a thin glaze of tears. “Ready…” you said and turned to face the Lincoln Continental. You didn't wait for his response. Only walked. A glance passed between you and Peaches. This time when you got in, you sat in the back. A minute later, Franklin followed. 

It wasn’t the silence that brought on your breaking point, but the fact that one of the songs that made its way from the speakers had a very specific piano break in it. 

“Peaches, can you pull over please. I’d like to get out.” 

Peaches hazel eyes reflected in the overhead mirror before he threw a glance and Franklin who had stared at you. 

“Why?” he said.

The tears couldn’t be stopped. They overflowed and spilled. 

“Because I want to take a quick walk on the beach. When will you ever see it be more beautiful than right now?”

The beach, symbolic for both of you. Just in different ways. 

Franklin and Peaches passed glances between one another with Franklin gently nodding his head. 

The drive had reached the outskirts of the city and the highway opened up to a stunning view of the ocean. The sun was now fully risen, and its rays danced on the water, creating a breathtaking scene. The car pulled over to the side of the road. 

As soon as it came to a complete stop, you got out.

You were able to walk a few paces in the sand before you’d chosen a spot to plop down on and face the sparkling waters ahead. You let yourself cry, and the crying quickly turned into sobbing as you pulled your sleeves to wipe your eyes clear. 

Footsteps began to fill in behind you. Franklin stopped just shy three feet from where you sat. “I meant to be there.” His words flooded in from behind, and you shut your eyes tightly.

“Baby please.” He took the three steps to get to you and took a seat on the sand beside you. 

As your breath caught in your throat you tried to scramble out words that would make sense. “I needed. I just. I wanted you to...” 

You sniffed and found by the next second Franklin had pulled you close and drew his arm around you to bring you into him. 

“I know babe,” He whispered at the base of your ear. “I know…” 

By the time you’d calmed down your eyes were even more swollen and you’d soaked Franklin’s shirt with tears. As his hand moved over the skin of your forearm he watched the people walking by before he focused solely on the ocean view. “Imma make this right. Make it up to you…”    

When you were guided back to the car by Franklin's direction you clung to those words. Words you wanted so desperately to believe in. You would never obtain the same moment, in that same place and time, but you were willing to make new memories, give him the opportunity. 

As Peaches headed back to your apartment, Franklin’s hand stayed locked to yours the entire way. He hadn’t left your side since departing from the beach, and every now and then he would look in your direction and pull your hand up to leave a soft kiss on the exposed skin before directing his attention to the window. When he did this you smiled briefly before your gaze would fall again. Sometimes to the hand he kissed, and other times to the scenery going by in the opposite window. 

Pulling into the available space on the block, Peaches parked the Lincoln and shut it down. 

“You can take off for the rest of the day. I need to handle some things.” Franklin’s eyes found you. 

You held his gaze briefly before you looked toward the front seat. “Bye Peaches. Thank you.” You opened the door and got out. 

Franklin not far behind stopped before he’d made it halfway. The familiar sound of his beeper rocked your eardrums.  

He looked down at the belt where it sat and released a sigh. “Shit.” 

You closed your eyes. Standing with your back to him. You turned and watched Franklin ascend the back seat, close one door and open another. He found your eyes, and let go of the car door to walk over to you. As you watched him, that's when you realized the thing that had been missing. His cane. You were standing on the sidewalk one foot in the direction of your apartment and the other toward him.This destination, unknown. 

“Uh. Look babe I gotta make this call. It’s-” 

You cut him off. “Business. I know.” The smile that you produced this time had been one of sadness unable to mask. You couldn’t tell him to stay. He wouldn’t. So you wouldn’t put on a scene. After all, you wanted to be his peace. 

Suddenly those words of hope had faded for you. The only thing you could utter without totally blowing away like a passing whisper on the wind was, “Be careful.” 

You brushed the side of his face with your fingers, turned and started walking, unwilling to look back and destroy yourself with longing and the depravity that he would not follow. When you got to the door, you unlocked it and went inside leaving the rest of the world and Franklin to his priorities.   

…

Worry would eat away at you everytime he left. You wondered why you couldn’t be more like Louie. It seemed she never left Jerome’s side, always there, always present, taking an active role in business. Franklin wouldn’t hear a word of it. You asked him once, just out of curiosity, and he had shut you down with this stern regard. 

“Naw. I’m not gettin’ you involved in this shit.” 

You protested, eager to try your luck, offering within the words you’d spoken that you would be careful. Play the game.  

“But why not? I’m pretty smart. I think. Besides I would be with you and-” 

“No.” 

So then you would never be like Louie, with time or tact. You hadn’t chosen your fate but settled into it in your little apartment finding things to clean or read, or do. A prisoner of uncertainty. But you found you often missed his presence in finding these things, his laughter filling the rooms and his warm embrace that always made you feel safe and protected. 

Franklin wore two different faces. One for the world and the other that he kept especially for you. Out there he might be cold, detached and focused, but when he stepped across the threshold he was hearty, affectionate and free. 

That was always the hardest part, waiting.

Your little apartment never felt so lonely, until you walked in it that morning by yourself. You sat on a plush red velvet couch in front of a vintage record player. In the corner of the living room, a wooden bookshelf stood tall, filled with old vinyl records. Your love for music was evident in every corner of the apartment. A way to make up for the empty space where you were hoping a piano could one day sit. You didn’t need anything fancy, just something that would keep a tune, convey it well.

Your family had never understood your style, especially when it came to your apartment. The furniture was a mix of retro and modern. These two opposites coming together. You always held the position that a clash was needed to create something extraordinary. Whether that was true or not you wouldn’t admit that you had bad taste. It screamed music, music, music! The walls were adorned with vibrant posters of famous musicians and bands, from Billy Ocean to Cameo.

Looking around, you thought of ways to curb your loneliness. You started with the obvious. Cleaning.

Within the hours it took for the house to be spotless with everything in its proper place, you’d scrubbed, dusted, and organized all with an eager anticipation that better days lay ahead. 

You’d lost friends being with Franklin Sanit. You could remember how one statement used to stay on your mind. 

“Leave him, get a fuckin’ back bone. You really want this to be your life, day after day?” 

You didn’t want it to be, foolish or not, you were willing to suffer, for love. 

Franklin missed dinner. Two tablespoons of extra virgin olive oil, one pound of Italian sausage, chopped onions, salt, black pepper, and the noodles and sauce it took to complete the spaghetti dish, not to mention the freshly fried catfish you’d added as a side. 

You made enough to feed at least four. Some for left overs and whoever Franklin decided to bring. Sometimes it would be Leon, and other times Jerome. And if it were Jerome he would always take a plate for Louie. Even Cissy stopped by once. Usually though, Peaches always got a plate. But eatting alone made you tired and the bubble bath you ran after, steam rising to the atmosphere of silence took the last of your resolve. 

As the night fell and the city lights came to life, you entered your bedroom wrapped in a purple towel.The walls were painted in a soft pink hue, with delicate lace curtains on the windows. A vanity table sat in front of a large mirror, with antique perfume bottles and jewelry boxes.The bed was covered in a floral quilt, giving the room a touch of femininity.You remembered when you’d given Franklin the grand tour. He had placed his hands behind his back and chuckled before turning to give you a look. “Damn. Think you got enough pink in here babe?” His eyes traveled and kept that little smile that complimented him. More of a smirk, and you playfully pushed his shoulder for making fun of your bedroom decor. 

That was before the war outside got bad. You remembered him being around more in the beginning. Then little by little, he wasn’t.

You’d found a place on your bed, right in the view of that dress you wore the night before. It layed over a chair with silver shoes close by. 

Falling back on the mattress you let the towel’s hold break its covering. The temperature of the room allowed a chill to cross your naked skin, but with a lazy arm you’d pulled the comforter and shaded yourself in the darkness of its covering. You laid there listening to the silence until eventually you closed your eyes to the temptation of sleep. 

…

Your senses spiked. A faint sound of running water filled your hearing. You could talk in the morning. Say everything you needed to say. All those words left unsaid, written in a song. Instead of surrendering to waking up completely, you stretched your limbs within the softness of the blanket. You had meant to get up and find yourself something to sleep in after laying down that night, but your energy had been displaced from the oils in the bath, the thoughts of whether or not he would make it back in one piece, if this was in fact going to be your life, day after day, and hurt. Hurt because you had been let down. Once again you surrendered to a slumber that was calling you back to it. 

Your dreams could be so vivid. Almost like they were real. Time became a concept unknown to you, and even if you wanted to search for the blinking numbers that would expose an actual answer on whether it was day or night, you didn’t open your eyes to force any discovery. There was no light to guide your way anymore. Someone had turned it off. The yellow glow was void in your tiny bedroom. Instead, all you focused on was the sensations you felt. A Lot of times when Franklin had been off fighting in this war, you slid your hands between your legs and pretended he was there with you, touching you. But these sudden sensations became all too real! 

The distinct difference between thought and matter.

When the protective cloud you’d situated yourself in had slowly pulled from your body, only to be replaced with warm living flesh which covered you, you knew you were not in any dream. 

He must have climbed in the bed already de-clothed straight from the shower. Normally you would be pulling at fabric and trying to free him from it, but not this time, this time those extra implications were absent. They'd been replaced by actions, and the evidence of his oncoming pleasure. Already hot and hard against your thigh, your inner walls desperately wanted something to latch onto.

Franklin’s lips were gentle. They showed up in different places. First your arm, then your shoulder, your neck, your collar bone, then to your cheek before a soft kiss pressed down over your lips. You opened your eyes and your vision cleared to find Franklin staring down at you before he lifted his head so that your noses touched. There was so much you wanted to say. The thoughts you had when he was gone were completely different from the ones you had when he was right there staring at you face to face. 

“Franklin. I -”  

“Kiss me,” he whispered.

Your blood pulsed at the command. Aching now, you pressed your lips over his, gentle but firm, and he proceeded to explore your mouth with tongue once you allowed entry before pulling from your lips all together to proceed in exploration. 

His body slid down in an erotic trail over yours and you closed your eyes to acknowledge a breath that hitched in your throat as he moved. It started when he traced the path of your stomach, leaving the light sensation that sent this pleasurable chill racing through your core and up your back. 

You suppressed a shuttering moan when his warm tongue found a different place on your skin and your nipples hardened under his touch. He’d keep hold on one and his mouth would pleasure the other running his tongue in circles before his lips sucked and pulled. Then he’d focus on the other, leaving the first exposed to the air that left a tingling desperation which begged to be spoiled further. Franklin didn’t stay in one place. He pressed on. A soft hum escaped your throat when his tongue touched the delicate skin. One of the area’s where you were the most vulnerable. 

Your blood caught fire, pooling into your lower abdomen, wetting your core unexpectedly as one of his hands caressed the back of your leg. He was teasing you but you were powerless. The sensation of Franklin’s touch was overwhelming so early, or late. You couldn’t hardly think, or even breathe. You felt like you were caught between spaces. Reality and a dream. Sleep desperately clung to you, but Franklin’s words pulled you all the way into consciousness. 

“Let me make it up to you. Let me take the pain away…”  

And you hadn’t even noticed when he lowered his head and his lips vibrated over your mound when he hummed those heated words into your folds. 

A wave of pleasure skittered through your nerves. You felt trapped, but not in the sense that you wanted an xscape. Your body was completely under Franklin’s sovereignty. His tongue, turning your entire form into a quivering mess of heated flesh as he moved forward, fingertips pressing into the inner parts of each of your thighs. His head delved between your legs and he tasted the very essence of you. 

Struggling to hold back the moan fighting its way through your chest, you pulled on the bed sheets. 

Franklin watched you through lidded eyes, and like a man who’d been left unfed there presented to him a favorable delicacy. You couldn’t contain yourself. You moaned when his tongue lapped at your center, his thumb separating the delicate skin to give himself better access. 

He ate. And ate well.  

Your panting filled the air, so sudden that you hadn’t realized you’d surrendered in that moment. Your body on impulse pulled away, but Franklin, alert and determined, wouldn’t let you escape. “Em, Em,” was all you heard filling the room as he protested your departure. That, and the movement on the bed springs giving indication that Franklin had then secured you in place.

With no way of escape you whispered his name in a lust laden tone. “F-Franklin, please p-please, Ahh. I can’t…Uh!” You cried these pleasurable words into the room that contained your many sessions of love making which were mingled in begging him to stop, and also begging him at the exact same time to suck out your very soul! 

You should be angry with him. Upset still, but all that undoubtedly had washed away.

Once you got the opportunity to look at his face for a brief moment, you noticed how he seemed to be delighted by your uneven breaths. Like seeing you so vulnerable gave him pleasure. 

The power this man had over your body and heart was almost frightening.

A soft bite at your inner thigh and you rewarded Franklin with this husky-like moan as your legs shoot. Your body jerked forward when he grazed your clit with the pad of his finger and you bit your lip ever so gently when you heard him hum in this proud satisfaction that he had you right where he needed you. Under his control. His talented mouth had rendered you sensitive to touch of any kind, and as he reached down to stroke his ridgid manhood, to prepare, you closed your eyes and clung to the sensation you'd trapped in your senses.The preparation was always the best part. This anticipation and the moment of entry you desired every time he made love to you.

Another gentle caress across your inner thigh had you clenching your walls. Franklin rubbed the tip of his erection teasingly over your folds. He always liked to cause you some sort of suffering right before, just a little bit. But too long had he deprived you with his business and war, family squabbles and old feelings, so you spoke without ever moving your lips to extend your hand down to grab what you craved until it moved inside you. 

It might be the only time you stole his power. 

Your breath caught at the connection, you could feel yourself being filled up and stretched out. You pulled in your bottom lip as Franklin pressed forward deeper and deeper taking back his position of dominance. 

Your inner muscles quaked and you lifted your head to find your lips hungry to explore his mouth. Either that or you needed a place to shuffle in your moaning, and that had been the first choice. Damn you for being considerate, but you didn't want Peaches to hear. Your small little apartment could get deathly quiet, especially at night, and although there was a good chance Franklin had sent him home after returning, oftentimes he would be somewhere close in proximity. Sure, you wanted to be mindful in the midst of your love making, but your mind wavered. When you kissed Franklin you tasted yourself in the process as he burrowed inside your body only to withdraw before diving back again and that alone ignited a suppressed desire to focus on nothing but him. 

The pace started slow at first but the inner workings of your core instinctively enveloped him begging for more attention. Franklin thrusted in again. You responded by whispering his name. He liked hearing his name. This time it was Franklin who rewarded you with a moan, as he sucked in a breath that transferred back out on shuttering lips. Although he hardly said much, he made up for it with his reactions. You didn't want his words. As he said before, some things didn't need them. His breathing, panting, subtle moans and grunts told the story perfectly. He felt the same as you did. You wanted more of him, and he wanted ALL of you! You closed your eyes and wrapped your arms around his back and neck, as your fingers traveled over his heated skin while your entangled bodies moved together in a steady rhythm.

Your wet slick flesh quivered around his length and the pleasure filled cries which escaped you knocked against the surrounding space along with the sounds of skin slapping against skin. Sorry Peaches. Franklin’s breathing had sped up too. You were now lost in eachother. You moved against him, taking him into your body eagerly. This pace tortured him. Slow, deep long strokes that hit every spot in perfect magnetism of the skin to skin contact. You both felt it, but Franklin’s mouth was wide open and a glance before you looked down to watch him disappear into you again indicated that your tight hot hole was right where he needed to be. Now he knew the feeling of being trapped. 

“Fuck.” He lowered his head and muttered your name in what could only be described as an ecstasy filled sigh of relief. Perspiration had begun to form on his forehead, and without warning he picked up the pace of his steady thrusts. Faster, harder, he was now, glistening, covered in your pool of moisture that guided his way in the dim light of the room illuminated by moonlight. 

Sitting back to reposition, he took the opportunity to watch himself disappear. A lick of his lips and you were certain he liked what he saw. Your breast bounced with every beat. Muscles milking him for every sensation, and every stroke that drove you both closer to the peak of climax. He'd gone so deep that your stomach felt the insertion when he sat your legs over his shoulders.

It had to be several minutes before an organism was fast approaching for him like the start of a raging fire to forest trees. You could always tell by that one single twitch of his length. Only this time, Franklin didn’t have an opportunity to warn you. Usually he would prepare you for his release, but tonight was different. Everything felt different. He gripped at your leg for a brief second before toppling over you and bringing you closer by cupping the lower part of your back so that you were partially off the bed, changing the position of your bodies yet again. You breathed into his neck. He held on for dear life and with this deep grunt, let himself go. That anguish you were so familiar with. It expressed itself in a warmness that filled you up and you lowered your head to catch a glimpse of his face.

God, did it look like a work of the most beautiful art when he climaxed. 

His eyes were shut tightly and his shoulders shook. You were lowered back down on the mattress with the little strength he had left before his body all the way collapsed. You took his weight and hung on to him. Franklin buried his face into the crook of your neck. He stayed there between your legs, and you lifted your head to plant one gentle kiss on his shoulder, and he shifted to kiss your forehead. 

Your bodies were heated, sweating, and both of you were struggling to catch your breath. 

Slowly, Franklin opened his eyes and looked at you with a clouded gaze. This tender look of longing. 

While your brown hues searched for answers with little to no success, you took one of your hands to rest it at the side of his cheek, feeling the smoothness with the pad of your thumb. 

“What baby?” 

“Imma make it right. When we wake up tomorrow, it’s your day.”

“My day?” Rarely had anything ever been made entirely about you. A little smile crept up on your lips. You could imagine Franklin waking up early to cook breakfast, messing up your kitchen in the process, but the effort he put into it would be cute, whether or not it tasted the best. He never cooked. So you had no opportunity to judge his skills. Now cooking, that happened to be your specialty, and although you didn't mind and most of the time enjoyed doing so, someone cooking for you would be a nice change. 

“I’d like that,” you said almost in a whisper, making a path over his chest with a single finger, careful not to disturb or cause any unpleasantness to his gunshot wound. 

As gently as he could, Franklin pulled out and readjusted your bodies so your back was lying against his chest. He wanted to hold you. You knew this because you often found yourself in this position. Spooning, they called it. You liked it. His hands moved around your waist and his head came to rest on your shoulder. 

“Mhm. No beeper. No Peaches. Nothin' ta do wit’ bidness. Just you and me.”

The two of you laid there, and eventually time carried on into the late hours of the night with the promise of sunrise.  

From the edge of sleep, you heard Franklin whisper something as he adjusted his arm so it wrapped around more completely. 

“...You deserve the fuckin’ world. I'm gonna give it to you...”

With a lean into his chest, breathing deeply in his scent of faded soap and sex, you shook your head so gently, it barely caused him to stir. 

“Don’t want the world…” you breathed. “Just you…” 

……………………………………………………………….

Taglist: @megamindsecretlair @notapradagurl7 @hopelessdisasterr

Writers Note: So FYI this was the first writing for the Snowfall fandom that I wrote. I started off with an original black OC but after jumping into my second story and getting more comfortable with 2nd Person Perspective, I decided to do a revision to this. What did I do? I changed the OC to You and made it a one shot! I would like to thank everyone who supported the original idea I had and I hope you like what I've done with the turn around. Thank you for the love and support. Until next time, happy readings. 💙

PLEASE DO NOT COPY OR CLAIM ANY OF MY WRITING. -Wide Nose And Wonderful /Mrs. Saint Writes.

[teyvatairconditioningco]

I hit the end of the chats, and it looks like everyone got a new one. I hadn't played in a while, did Orias get chats before? Because he got three compared to Andre, Beleth, Gamigin, and Ppyong's one.

Anyway, highlights minus Andre, Beleth, and Bael because they all got their own post lmao

Leraye never beating the golden retriever boyfriend allegations. He's so fuckin cute, I die

Ppyong!!! Another cutie pie!!

Naberius, equal parts pragmatist and puppy that desperately wants us to stay with him. I adore him<3

MORAX, BABY BOY, THROWING HANDS BRCAUSE HE LOVES US

Why is he like this

I still love him tho

He's so darn cute!!!

Marbas, trying to rationalize his feelings with a >:I face.

They were all great, my only complaint is that it's not apparent who's talking at first.

Oh, Orias was also surprisingly cute, but I forgot to screenshot him and I'm lazy ✌️

[msbigredmachine]

New To This - Chapter 5

MASTERLIST

“Sup, trick,” a soft voice chuckled next to Delilah, and she turned to see Tiwa, her co-worker at the supermarket, presenting her a can of Mountain Dew and a bowl of jollof rice and stewed chicken as she joined her to sit on the staircase outside on their lunch break. “Want some?”

Delilah grimaced and bit into her carrot stick for emphasis. “You know I can’t have that. I’m workin’ out and shit.”

“Oh yeah, I keep forgetting about your wrestling. Shoulda brought you a salad or somethin’,” Tiwa joked, causing Delilah to roll her eyes good-naturedly. The two women had known each other since high school and had run in different social circles back then, but working together for the past four years had closed that gap between them.

“So, how’s wedding planning going? You still got time for that with your wrestling and all?” Tiwa asked as she threw her braids behind her shoulder.

“It’s going,” Delilah shrugged, staring out into the empty backlot of the supermarket. “My Mama’s making sure it’s going, anyway. We’ve put a deposit on the reception hall, but haven’t decided on the catering. I haven’t even thought about a dress yet. Luckily I got my mom’s wedding dress to fall back on if everything else goes to shit.”

“You sound bored outta your fuckin’ mind,” Tiwa pointed out, raising an eyebrow. “I’ve never heard any woman sound this uninterested about planning her own wedding.”

“It’s not boredom. I’m just…tired,” Delilah insisted, shuffling her feet on the step she sat on. “Training and working two jobs hasn’t given me much time to think of anything else.”

“What about your man? Is he going to Panama City with you for the show? I mean, that’s gotta be exciting, right?”

“For me? Absolutely,” she responded, turning her face toward the sun. “The networking opportunities are beyond my wildest dreams. For him? Not really. He’s never been a wrestling fan. And he still thinks I’m outta my mind,” she added with a roll of her eyes. In reality, she knew that half the town thought the same way, but she never let it deter her. What she wanted to do with her life was no one’s fucking business.

Tiwa nodded in what seemed like understanding and chewed her food slowly. “That bad, huh?”

“Yeah, that bad. He’s not cooperating at all.” Delilah huffed, feeling her blood begin to boil already. “First off, he refused to come to my first match. My very first match! He bitches about my training schedule all the fuckin’ time now. What is scaring him so much?”

“Gee, where do I start?” Tiwa snorted.

Delilah looked back at her co-worker, startled by her response. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Come on, girl. Look at it. Y’all supposed to be getting married soon and then your wrestling picks up. I saw your match on YouTube and it’s already at like a hundred thousand views. That’s a fuckin’ big deal, ya know? Not to mention you’re spending time with that steaming hot Jey guy that just might end up being your co-worker. And from all the buzz you’re getting, it’s only gonna be a matter of time before that happens. That’s gotta make Andre uncomfortable.”

She didn’t know her match had made it onto YouTube, but she would get back to that later. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“I am. And I’m happy for you. This town is boring as fuck. Someone needs to get outta this dump and do something interesting with their lives.” Tiwa took a swig of her Mountain Dew. “So back to you and this Jey dude. He seems to be giving you a lot of attention.”

“Y’all making it sound like me and him are seeing each other every day or somethin’,” said Delilah, her tone a little gruffer than she wanted. “That ain’t the case. Jey’s been like a second coach, like Tank. I want to make it to the big time, and if Jey can help me get there, I’ll take it.”

“You sure he hasn’t hinted at something more? Like, you know…”

Delilah shook her head. “Nope. We only talk about wrestling, that’s it. He’s been very professional.”

“Or he’s just waiting to get you alone,” Tiwa cut in. “Maybe that’s why he invited you to Panama City.”

“He invited both Dre and me. I won’t be alone. Tank’s coming along with me since Dre can’t make it.” She wasn’t sure what Tiwa was trying to insinuate, and though she didn’t like it, she tried not to show it. “Girl you trippin’. Relax. I’m getting married to the man I love. Jey’s already married, I think.”

“You think?” Tiwa repeated, and only then did it dawn on Delilah that she’d never seen a ring on his finger. Still… “He knows better and so do I. I got only one goal in mind, and that’s all I care about.” It had been two weeks since her first match, and she was just getting started with building a reputation for herself within the independent circuit. She was working hard and earning every bit of respect she was gaining, and she really didn’t want to throw all of that away.

“Okay,” said Tiwa. “I’m just looking out for you, girl. Do you, and make sure you’re happy while you’re doing it.”

“I know.” Delilah smiled and looked at her watch. Their break was almost over. “You coulda come with me to Panama City too, ya know.”

“Ha, if I do, who’s gonna cover your shift?” Tiwa said, getting to her feet. “Besides…I got a date on Monday night.”

“Oh. So you’ve finally gotten over your crush on Tank, then?” Delilah smirked as they walked back into the supermarket.

Tiwa gasped and avoided her friend’s teasing stare. “How many times am I gonna tell you, Parrish, it ain’t like that with Tank! It never was.”

“And yet, you’re blushing.”

“…..Bitch, bye.”

—------------------

From her place on the ring apron, Delilah watched in complete awe as Liv Morgan and Becky Lynch practiced in the ring for their match, still a good three hours before Monday Night Raw was set to air. The women were opening the show tonight, and she was very excited to see how it all played out. But watching them rehearse was so much better than anything she could have imagined.

The only thing that would have made her day better was Andre being with her. Of course, they had argued about the trip, in which Tank had tried to step in. He was being completely asinine and paranoid. She would never have stopped him if he had the chance to meet LeBron James or Patrick Mahomes, his favorite athletes. This was a once in a lifetime chance for her, and she really couldn’t understand why he was taking all of this so poorly.

“Now that’s a finisher right there,” Tank interrupted her thoughts as Liv Morgan hit Becky backwards in her signature Oblivion to get the pinfall.

Delilah turned back to look up at the huge Titantron as Liv’s theme song rang out in victory. “This is so cool,” she whispered. How amazing would it be to see her own name in lights that bright?

“Ayyy, look who showed up, uce,” a familiar deep voice sounded from the shadows behind her, and she looked over to see Josh making his way down the ramp. 

Without thinking through it, she rushed towards him and leapt into his arms. “This is so amazing! Thank you so much, oh my god,” she squealed happily, not caring if she sounded like a total fan girl at the moment. Never did she imagine she could ever experience all she had since coming down to Panama City; the backstage access, getting to meet the amazing wrestlers she watched on TV every single week; it was sensory overload for her as a fan.

Josh laughed as her legs tightened around him, supporting the woman in his arms with her round backside in his hands. “You welcome, baby girl. You enjoyin’ yourself?”

It was then, as he set her back on her feet, that Delilah noticed how good he looked in his Nike tech fleece outfit. At the same time, Tank appeared from the corner of her eye, and she quickly took a step back from Josh. “Yes! Everyone’s been so nice. The wrestlers, the officials, it’s been awesome.”

“Good to hear. Wanna go talk to the girls?” Without waiting for an answer, Josh grabbed her by the hand and tugged her toward the ring where Becky and Liv now sat on the apron. They looked over at the approaching trio and waved. “Hey, Jey, hey Tank,” greeted Liv, her eyes skating over Delilah’s form. “Wanna introduce us to your friend?”

Sneaking behind her, Josh shoved the shy woman closer to his colleagues. “This is Delilah Parrish. She’s an indie wrestler in the Pensacola region,” he introduced.

“Oh, fellow hometown girl, huh?” Becky’s friendly nature was infectious as she extended a hand toward the new woman. “Nice to meet you, Delilah. I’m Becky.”

“Delilah. Like Samson, right?” Liv inquired. When Delilah nodded, her smile widened. “Such a cute name. I like it. You stickin’ around for the show tonight?”

“Yeah.” Delilah muttered shyly. It was the exact same tone she had taken with pretty much everyone she had met so far. It was all so overwhelming, she felt like she was in a dream.

“Ay Livvy Liv, you busy?” Josh asked. When she shook her head, he nodded toward Delilah. “How ‘bout you show our guest here how it’s done in the big leagues?”

Liv set her towel aside with a shrug. “Sure, why not?” she answered, turning her gaze to Delilah. “You up for it?”

Shocked, the trainee looked back and forth between them. “Wait, you want me to wrestle her? Right now?” 

“Now’s as good a time as any,” Josh shrugged, raising an eyebrow. “Unless you think you can’t do it.”

Offended, her eyes darkened right away. “Hell yeah, I can do it.”

He stepped closer to her, staring her right down, “Then show me,” he whispered.

Liv leapt back into the ring and backed up, beckoning for Delilah to join her. “Come on, show me what’cha got,” she challenged.

Before she knew what was happening, Delilah was locking up with Liv freaking Morgan in the middle of the ring, listening for her rushed verbal cues as they sparred like old partners. So immersed was she in the match they were constructing, Delilah didn’t notice that Josh and Tank had been joined by a few other men.

“Who’s the girl?”

Turning his head slightly, Josh took his boss’s hand in a handshake and then returned his attention to the action in the ring. “She’s one of Tank’s,” the Samoan spoke of the trainer who was now shouting instructions to his pupil from outside the ring, while Becky cheered on Liv on the other side.

Triple H watched with a critical eye as the new woman launched herself off of the ropes and knocked Liv to the mat with an impressive, albeit stiff clothesline. “She’s unpolished,” he deduced.

Josh shrugged. “She’ll get better,” he assured the older man. “Her very first match was just two weeks ago and she killed that shit, man. Two hundred thousand views on YouTube already,” he added, a hint of admiration creeping into his voice.

“I see.” The multi-time World Champion nodded his head, his gaze still fixed on the story the women were trying to tell in the ring.

As Liv wedged her horizontally between the ropes by the turnbuckle, Delilah glanced to her left, her heart nearly jumping into her throat when she saw Triple H of all people, watching intently a few feet away, as though waiting for her to do something special. She was so distracted that she didn’t hear Liv’s reminder to brace herself for the impact of her double-knee attack. Liv’s knees and shins colliding with her sternum knocked the air right out of her, causing her to collapse hard in the corner, limbs twisting everywhere as she hit the canvas.

“Shit, I’m sorry!” Liv screeched, as Delilah rolled to her side and slowly made her way to her knees with a moan. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. It was my fault,” she puffed, taking the other woman’s extended hand to pull her up.

“Yeah, Triple H has that kind of effect,” Liv said, winking at her. “I was the exact same way the first time I saw him.”

Risking another glance at the base of the ramp, Delilah breathed a sigh of relief when she realized that Hunter had left them alone, but dread quickly filled her insides as she wondered what he’d thought of her performance.

“What the hell was that?” Josh’s laughing voice interrupted the ladies’ conversation. Delilah blushed wildly and ducked under the bottom rope. “I panicked,” she admitted softly. “So tell me the truth,” she said. “How bad did I fuck up my only chance to impress that man?”

Josh helped her out of the ring and set her down on her feet. “You tried. Let’s just leave it at that.” Her nervous expression caused him to wrap an arm around her waist for a quick hug. “But ay, you went for it, and Hunter appreciates that,” he whispered.

The feel of his breath on her ear sent shivers down Delilah’s spine. She shook it off quickly, deciding that she was still being a fangirl, that it was just his breathtaking presence that still affected her. She would have felt the exact same way if it had been Andre holding her like this.

Mistaking her inner turmoil for something else, Tank nudged her from her other side. “You did good, kid. I could tell Hunter liked it,” he said.

The uncharacteristic compliment from her usually no-nonsense teacher caused Delilah to blush, but before she could respond, a stage hand called for Tank to follow him up the ramp, leaving her all alone with Josh. She felt very self-conscious as she walked next to him towards the backstage area.

Somewhere along the way, Josh had invaded Delilah’s thoughts and fantasies on more than a few occasions. Never, since getting with Andre, had she ever thought about another man while making love to her fiancé, until lately. She wanted to blame it on seeing him every week on TV, recalling his deep, seductive voice on the phone, all of which left her imagining things she never dreamed of. Yeah, he seemed to be a bit touchy feely, but he had never made an outright pass at her, and had done nothing beyond a few flirty words and gestures. Maybe she was overthinking it too much and just needed to relax.

Josh looked down at her, trying not to stare into her tank top from his considerable vantage point. She was engaged to be married, but he couldn’t seem able to tell himself that it meant she was off limits. He was drawn to how unaware she was of her beauty and her sexiness, and it made her that much more attractive in his eyes. “You quiet. What’s on your mind?” he asked her, forcing himself out of his wayward thoughts.

Delilah followed him into a huge locker room. “Just thinkin’ about how surreal all of this is. It’s one thing to see it on TV. It’s a whole ‘nother thing to see it all up close…” she trailed off, shaking her head in awe.

Grabbing two bottles of water, Josh directed her to a table and sat across from her, opening her bottle before sliding it to her. “Yeah. Wait until you become an actual employee.”

Scoffing, she drank from the bottle and leaned back in her chair. “Right. Like that’s gonna happen.”

“What makes you think that?”

With a sigh, she looked around the empty room. “I don’t know. For all intents and purposes, I’m still a rookie,” she reasoned. “I got so much more to learn. I don’t even look like the typical WWE Superstar. My hair’s too damn big and curly. I haven’t put on enough muscle yet.” Casting a glance over her own body, she sighed again. “And I’m gonna need implants, which I definitely can’t afford,” she added.

Josh looked her over, zeroing in on her chest. After seeing her in her wrestling outfit a couple of weeks ago, he was convinced there was nothing wrong with her hot body. “You don’t need no implants,” he assured her.

Shock washed over Delilah at his blatant assessment. “Okay, um, so where else are we going after this?” she asked nervously, hoping to break the suffocating tension building between them.

“Whatchu doin’, Delilah?” Josh ignored her question, watching her brush her hair out of her face for the hundredth time, the glint of the rock on her engagement ring seemingly taunting him every time she did so. “What exactly are you puttin’ in all the hours training and wrestling for? To achieve your dream? Or to get away from your fiancé?”

Recoiling a little, Delilah narrowed her eyes at what he had asked. Why was he being so intrusive? “Dude…” she stammered, her defenses going right up. "I’m not…I’m not sure how that’s any of your business.”

“Baby girl, this business is everything to me,” Josh said to her, his tone strangely serious. “It’s my whole life. And I get a kick out of seeing other people who love it too and get immersed in it for all the right reasons.” Shaking his head, he crossed his massive arms over his broad chest. “I need to know which side you’re on, so I’ll know whether I’m wasting my time with you or not.”

“Wasting your time? What the fuck…I never asked for your attention, Josh!” she shot defensively, staggered by this sudden change to their conversation. "To be honest, I don’t even know why you are showing any interest in me.” Behind her, she heard the door open, and she forced herself to lower her voice, even though she was seething at his audacity. “Maybe I should ask you. What’s in this for you, huh? Why me? There are a million other new wrestlers that you could be focusing on.“

Shrugging a shoulder in agreement, Josh leaned back in his chair and let his dark gaze scan her from head to toe. "Maybe,” he conceded, a smirk playing on his lips. “But it’s not them I wanna fuck.”

The words struck her like a blow to the gut. Did she hear him right? Was he suggesting that he wanted to sleep with her? That he was as attracted to her as she was to him? Did he fantasize about her too? Did he forget she was engaged? Wasn’t he married? How could he make such an open confession?

Before she could say something, the room began to fill up with members of the Raw roster, Josh stood up and gestured for her to do the same. “Come on. Let’s go find Tank,”  he said to her.

--------------

Thoughts?

🏷️: @jxtina-86 @wrestlingprincess80 @fame-ass-ers @southerngirl41 @alyyaanna @squishyguishy @jstarr86 @murrylove @thewarlordsworld @mzv11 @cozyaliensuperstar7 @nayys-world @hunnidmilly @cyberdejos2 @papireigns-05 @niknakbucks92 @captainwithoutmakingitlove @sovereigngoth @aisharmi @kennedi0818 @alichesmi @thesamoanqueen @herwickedlittlesins @questionable-behaviour @tribalchiefreigns @2-muchsauce @thatbxtchsblog @raya-hunter01 @marchi36753 @lovelysuccess @christinabae @wooahmiri @thatonecarebear @tabletheofhead @rheaanddamianfan @vebner37 @hanley1577 @princessesareforsuckers @-naturally @joannasteez @bbygirlky18 @lilucey @theninthwonder @melaninsugababy @chocovibesonly @msbluehaz3 @scarlettnoir01 @heerah34 @empressdede @tbmotw @darkangelchronicles @visionarymode @marasdeathnote @aintnorainbows @meggylynnloves @shantinextdoor @harlemblipster @trc-punzel @afterdarkprincess @nbanenefrmdao @sassginaswanmills @purplehairgawdess @holisticcoach @girlwhogaf @royalkay23 @heyitsnajabrinee @stoner2k @reci1996 @catxo @iamimanim @lookmais @ts1mp0ne @shonny09 @lizzyd1ish @m3llowww @skyesthebomb @final1miya @mzv11 @kia1996 @randomuser0711 @yourtribalqueen @caramelcleopatraa @katymae12344 @that-one-anxious-mango @yana3sworld @ajenae @truefant4sy @thetribalqueen @bhjszsdxc @paigereeder @christinabae @justazzi @maknaehyucks @mindairy @headoftheetable @paigereeder