#if i didn't already have so much on my plate i'd open up commissions again but i really can't take on any more stress rn | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

linkemon · 1 month

Text

It's gonna be alright (Keith Kogane x Reader)

Friendly reminder that English is not my first language. You can check my Masterlists both in English and Polish here. Consider supporting me on Ko-fi. You can also check out my commissions if you’re interested.

Other oneshots can be found here.

ᴋᴇɪᴛʜ ᴛʀɪᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴘᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ꜱʜɪʀᴏ'ꜱ ᴅɪꜱᴀᴘᴘᴇᴀʀᴀɴᴄᴇ. ɪᴛ ɪꜱ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴏɴ ᴋɴᴏᴡʟᴇᴅɢᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴄᴏᴏᴋɪᴇꜱ ʜᴇʟᴘ. ᴏʀ ᴀᴛ ʟᴇᴀꜱᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ'ꜱ ᴡʜᴀᴛ [ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ] ꜱᴀʏꜱ…

ᴀᴅᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ɪɴꜰᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴ:

ᴏɴᴇꜱʜᴏᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ ꜱᴘᴏɪʟᴇʀꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ᴇᴀʀʟʏ ꜱᴇᴀꜱᴏɴꜱ.

ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅʟʏ ʀᴇᴍɪɴᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ɪɴ ᴇɴɢʟɪꜱʜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ. ɪ ᴛʀʏ ᴍʏ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ʙᴜᴛ ᴀɴʏ ᴛɪᴘꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇᴅ.

It was the final stretch.

I snuck out again. Doing it in the evening would mean that someone would probably catch me but at night it's much easier. If the rest of the team saw me now, I'd probably get scolded but I couldn't help myself. Hunk finally baked some edible cookies!

I grabbed a plate from the nearest shelf and helped myself to a generous amount, then rearranged the cookies that had fallen out of formation back into a pyramid. This way, no one noticed when one or two floors disappeared.

As a medical student, or rather a former student, because on Earth I've probably already been kicked out of school, I always tell my team to eat healthily. I am quite aware of the effects of overeating at night and too many sweets but everyone has smaller or larger deviations. Mine gradually started to increase after Hunk got a new recipe for blueberry cookies.

When we tasted them for the first time, I was skeptical because of their blue color. We chose Coran as the tester because no one else wanted to poison themselves. However, it turned out that we had avoided failure. They tasted like cocoa.

Since then, Hunk has been baking them almost all the time and I've been stealing them on the sly. It quickly turned out that paladins had a habit of getting up often in the middle of the night. At first I ate in the living room and almost got caught when Pidge walked by. However, I managed to find a solution. My place for a snack was the rather narrow roof, which was accessed through a window on the top floor of the castle. Perhaps someone would be able to spot me during the day but at night it was virtually impossible.

I headed there too, thinking only that in a moment I would inhale that cocoa scent again. I crossed the hall, opened the window, and then placed the plate on the tiny windowsill. I had both legs out and was just about to start eating when it turned out I wasn't alone.

Keith was now sitting in my usual seat with wide eyes. He looked ready to jump but visibly relaxed when he saw it was just me.

Well, great.

So I did the only right thing that could be done in such a situation.

— Cookie?

— Excuse me? — He asked.

— I asked if you wanted a cookie. — I sat down and offered him a plate. — Just don't betray to others because I won't have a life.

He ate it, then reached for another one.

We never got along very well, partly because we didn't know each other before I joined the team. It's true that I didn't argue with him like Lance but he had such a heavy personality that I preferred spending time with Hunk or Allura. He always seemed quite cold to me but I admired his skills and courage because he certainly had plenty of that.

The silence was quite uncomfortable, so I decided to break it.

— Nice sky.

No response from Mr. Silent.

It was beautiful. A shade of navy blue completely different than the one on Earth. Constellations unlike any I've seen. Everything was different here. The thought always brought a momentary feeling of nostalgia and longing for my family but I was used to it by now. It hasn't wanted to leave me since I got here.

— Sooo... you came to think? — I said with my mouth full.

— You could say that — he muttered.

What an elaborate statement.

— I came to eat without anyone noticing. I glanced at him. — But it didn't work out as you can see. — What are you thinking about?

I didn't receive any response.

Keith started to stand up but I grabbed his sleeve.

— It's a bit inelegant of you to leave me in the middle of a conversation now.

If this could even be called a conversation...

— Something will attack me here at night when it smells food if I stay alone. — I stuffed the cookie into myself with my free hand. — If you want, we can sit in silence — I added.

I saw his hesitation but he finally sat back down after the last sentence.

I wanted to keep my word, I really wanted to. The problem, however, was the talkativeness. Everyone around me knew perfectly well that I was loud and ubiquitous. I also had trouble keeping my mouth shut. Keith and I were basically opposites, which was one of the reasons we had limited contact.

In short, I could be irritating. No wonder I couldn't last more than a few minutes.

— If you don't want to say what you're thinking, don't say it — I started. — But if you change your mind, you know — I stabbed him in the arm — you can vent.

— Do I look like someone who wants to talk?

No, you look like an irritated bastard.

— No but you look like someone who needs it. You know, as a pseudo-doctor on this team, I also have to take care of your mental health. I think it's just as important as physical one.

His expression softened slightly. He was clearly wondering whether he should share with me what was on his mind.

The silence grew.

This is how my career as a psychologist dies prematurely.

I actually could have given up but I felt like I wanted to help. Kind of like when I was quite little and put plasters on literally all the kids in my neighbourhood who had bad knees. This feeling turned into a passion — the desire to professionally care for others. I didn't have the opportunity to graduate because I was in the middle of another galaxy but I did my best. I tried to use everything I had at hand to help those who were saving planets and races that we had never known about before.

— It's about my leadership — he began, so quietly that I could barely hear him. — I feel bad about it. Everyone is counting on me, they want me to give them orders but I have the impression that whatever I do, wherever I step, will be wrong. I'm not even sure how to get along with you. After I came back to the team, everyone looks at me differently. I'm not like Shiro. My only hope is to find him and bring him back but I don't even know where to start looking for him.

I'm out of cookies.

— It's obvious — I felt his eyes on me — that you're not Shiro. I'm sure we'll find him but it will take some time. You shouldn't try to replace him because each of you is different — I started. — It'll take you a while to get used to your new role but you're on the right track. Maybe try spending some time with the team? We haven't known each other for very long but I'm not blind. Some people really miss you, Keith. Don't run away from them, try to talk to them, eat some cookies and everything will be fine. — I stood up, took my plate and headed to the window.

It's gonna be alright — the cliché I may have tried to say to myself a lot too but what choice did I have? What else could I tell him?

— [Reader]?

— Hmmm? — I stuck my head out.

— Thank you.

— No problem but it was Hunk who baked them — I said, smiling to myself and then started walking down the dark corridor.

Keith will make a good leader but I might still make a good doctor when I get back to Earth. I should just cut down on the cookies...

#keith kogane x reader #voltron x reader #oneshot x reader #shirogane takashi #cookies #hunk #coran

29 notes · View notes

raendown · 3 years

Text

I return from the dead with a fic that isn't even for the Naruto fandom and I don't really have an explanation for myself.

Pairing: SamBucky Word count: 2317 Fandom: MCU Summary: Visiting Steve was always strange now that the guy was old and retired. Still, of all the things Sam expected out of today, witnessing a prime example of gay panic from the co-worker that's been mysteriously avoiding him was not one of them.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info under the header!

Honestly, the fact that Steve's house smelled like prunes was probably one of the funniest things that Sam had ever heard in his life. More than anything he would have loved to go back in time, to the days of reading about glorified heroes in history textbooks, and tell his fifteen year old self that Captain America, Steve Rogers, retired in a house that smelled like prunes. God, his best friend just had to throw himself in to being old the way he threw himself in to everything else.

"Is there a special reason for you visiting?" Steve's voice was more tremulous these days, less steady but no less warm. Just hearing him again after the shameful amount of weeks it had been since his last visit made Sam grin.

"Nah, just thought I'd pop in and see if you'd expired yet. Your birthday's coming up. Gonna be, what, three hundred? A thousand?"

Steve narrowed his eyes but there was fondness in them so it wasn't very scary even if he could probably still tackle Sam across the room if he wanted to. At this point it would hurt him too but he could do it. "You, young man, are-"

He looked chagrined at himself when Sam cut him off with a laugh.

"You shitting me? Did you really just call me young man? See if I ever let you live that down."

His friend grumbled but accepted the teasing as his due. That was just what he got for going back in time and doubling down on being so much older than his own best friends.

Since it had indeed been a little too long after they last saw each other there was quite a bit of catching up for them to do. Over cool glasses of sweet tea and a plate of cookies the two of them spent a pleasant couple of hours shooting the shit until Sam could almost forget the years that stretched between them now. It was jarring, sometimes, looking away from those clear blue eyes to realize all over again just how many wrinkles they were set in. Sometimes he hated it. Other times he could only smile to know that at least one of their ragtag bunch had found the peace they were looking for.

Eventually all that sweet tea went right to his bladder and Sam excused himself to use the bathroom. When he returned he took in the sight of his friend all snug under one of the blankets his late wife had knit and sighed, feeling maudlin suddenly for no good reason.

"I should probably get out of your hair," he said. "Let you get in your afternoon nap or whatever. No, stay there man, I'll clean up." His smile was easy as he snagged the dishes from their grazing and hauled it all over to the kitchen.

"You sure?" Steve's voice floated after him. "Nothing else you want to get off your chest?"

"Huh?"

Sam frowned at the cups he'd just placed in the sink, running back through his mind. They'd talked about pretty much everything he could think of.

"You didn't mention Buck once, you know. I thought the two of you were friends now."

"Ah. Yeah. So did I." The corners of his mouth twisted with a little bitterness, a little confusion. After everything they'd been through and the number of times Bucky had accepted his invitations down to Delacroix he'd thought they were well past the point of calling themselves friends. Maybe he himself felt something a little more than that but he knew better than to push.

That was probably why Bucky's sudden radio silence hurt so much though.

"Trouble in paradise?" Steve called from the other room and Sam snorted.

“Shit, I don’t know. One minute we’re fine and the next he just up and disappears on me again. I may or may not have checked a bunch of obituaries for your name just in case because I have no idea what I might have done to piss him off.” Sam pursed his lips. He’s already gone over all this with Sarah a half dozen times and in all the recounts he’d done of their last couple missions he still couldn’t find any particularly bad moment between him and his best friend. Unfortunately the sweet tea he was glaring at didn’t have any answers either so he snatched the pitcher up and moved to put it in the fridge.

“Have you tried, oh I don’t know, asking him what’s wrong?”

“You think I didn’t try that?”

Steve’s hum drifted down the hallway with a distinct note of sass. “Neither one of you is very famous for your communication.”

“Excuse you, I was a counselor. A certified veteran’s counselor. Communicating with people was literally my job until your overly buff ass came running around all ‘on your left’ and ‘everyone I know is trying to kill me’.” Sam huffed as he snapped the fridge closed. “I damn well tried to talk to him but he’s not answering my texts or my calls. Short of breaking in to his apartment I don’t really know what else you want me to do.”

Without any other excuses to keep him in the kitchen Sam heaved a sigh, knowing he couldn’t dawdle any longer. He could only get to the door by going though the living room so his choices were either run away out the back, which he would never ever hear the end of, or go back in to the living room and face Steve with his stupidly wise and knowing eyes. Seriously, let a guy live to almost two hundred and suddenly he thought he knew everything. Annoying was what it was.

He was only halfway down the hall when he heard the front door open. Sam very carefully swallowed down the jibe he’d just been about to deliver and hoped that meant what he thought it meant. Maybe Steve had finally gone vague after all and bailed in the middle of their conversation; he’d rather chase a crazy old coot down the street than talk about his feelings regarding one James Buchanan Barnes. Actually if he looked at it from the right angle then chasing an old coot down the street was pretty much his job description whenever he and his partner teamed up on missions. Sam was just glad they hadn’t been called in to one since this whole silent treatment had started because he wasn’t sure he wanted to know whether or not Bucky would still have his back even when the guy was mad at him over reasons unknown.

Two more steps and Sam froze in his tracks, eyes wide with disbelief. Bucky’s shoulders were hunched in to himself with something bridling on panic as he fit himself through the front door and kicked it shut behind himself, eyes wild and fixed on the ground between his feet, nervous energy pouring out of him in a way Sam hadn’t seen before. From his spot on the couch Steve watched his childhood friend let himself in with serene indifference.

“Didn’t know you’d be over today,” was all he said. Then he smiled benignly when Bucky let out a soft whine.

“Help,” Bucky pleaded. “I’m dying.”

Then Bucky slid down to his knees and face planted in the carpet, arms and legs splaying out wide. Steve hummed.

“You know,” he murmured, “no one ever believes me when I tell them you’re this dramatic.”

“Steve! I’m having a crisis!”

“I tell everyone you’re a drama queen and they just shake their heads at me.”

“This is important! You have to kill me, Steve. Or I’m gonna just- just-!” Bucky’s voice petered out with another extended whine muffled by the carpet that probably didn’t smell any better from that close up.

Crossing one leg over the other, Steve folded his hands in his lap with a great lack of concern for the ridiculous scene playing out before him. Sam remained frozen in the hallway, wondering if Bucky even realized he was there, but he got an answer to that almost faster than if he’d bothered to ask himself.

“What’s wrong, pal?”

“It’s Sam!” Bucky cried. His arms lifted up like wings to flail briefly before falling back to the floor in a boneless sprawl. “Please just crush my head or something. I can’t take this.”

“Ah, yes, I hear you’ve been avoiding him.”

Whatever kind of noise Bucky was trying to make, it came out sounding more like he was choking on carpet fumes. “Of course I’m avoiding him!”

“Now why on earth would you do that?”

“I want to stick my tongue in the gap between his teeth!” Bucky said, entirely unaware of the sparks that were suddenly running up Sam’s spine in the hallway. “Help me, Steve! I want to press my thumb in the little dimple on his back. He has a dimple on his back! Why!? Steve I want to hold his hand! What the fuck!”

Steve had both eyebrows up near his hairline and the most shit eating grin any human on the planet had ever worn when he turned his head to look at Sam. Frozen with his eyes on the figure currently panicking in to the floor, Sam paid him no attention. He was busy processing. After getting to know Bucky, inviting him to stay in Delacroix time and time again, the dramatics weren’t actually that much of a surprise. Obviously as they grew closer he’d gotten a number of glimpses in to who the real Bucky Barnes was under the grouchy veneer he presented to the world. Watching him starfish on the ground and whine wasn’t too far from what he’d already seen.

Hearing him say anything about his tongue in conjecture with Sam’s teeth, on the other hand, now that was a bit unexpected. More than a bit.

“I think Shuri called this ‘gay panic’ and honestly I’m in agreement,” Bucky went on mindlessly. “If I have to watch him go through one more workout and not grab his ass with both hands then I’m just going to rip both of them off. Who needs hands if I cannot grab Sam Wilson’s ass with them!?”

“You may be slightly exaggerating the situation, I feel,” Steve told him.

Bucky snorted. “I am not. I absolutely am not. Why is he so hot? And nice? I hate that. Except I don’t. Steve why is he so nice to me?”

“That might be a question you should ask him.”

“Oh yeah, sure, I’ve got lots of questions for him! Hey Sam, why are you nice to me? Hey Sam, can I lick your cheekbones? Hey Sam, how big is your cock?”

“Well. Not that I’ve ever thought to ask that myself but, alright. Go on, Sam, how big is it?”

Sam had just enough time to cross his arms over his chest and assume a very casual pose leaning against the wall beside him before Bucky’s head shot up off the carpet. If possible, his eyes were even more wild than before when he fixed them on Steve, full of the deepest betrayal. Then he very slowly dragged them sideways to see the man he’d just been panicking over. Sam gave him a very friendly smile.

“Depends on your frame of reference,” he admitted. “I’d say sizeable.”

“Nnnggggg.”

“Hi Buck.”

“Ggnnn.”

While Steve very poorly disguised a laugh behind one hand, Sam pushed off from the wall and sauntered further in to the living room. Bucky slammed his face back in to the carpet.

“Leave me here to die,” he pleaded in a very small voice. Sam tutted, reaching for the front door, only looking over his shoulder once he was halfway through it.

“Come on, Buck, can’t lick my cheekbones if you don’t get off the floor. It was a nice visit, Steve, but don’t be looking out your front curtains for a bit. I think I’ll let Bucky decide for himself what sizeable means.” He thanked god for the mercy of Steve’s house being situated out here so far from any other homes, surrounded on all sides by enough trees that you couldn’t see it from the road. A gorgeous little island of privacy. Sam was fairly sure he wasn’t the only one grateful for this, judging by the mad scrambling noises he could hear going on behind him.

Bucky’s voice garbled out something that sounded like ‘fuck you, thank you, bye forever’ and then Sam was listening to the slam of the front door barely a second before strong hands were wrapping themselves around his hips. He laughed even as Bucky’s face came in to view.

“Greatest assassin of several generations and you didn't notice my truck in the driveway?” he said.

“I may have been a bit distracted.” That was definitely a pout on Bucky’s lips.

“By being so hot for all of this”-Sam gestured vaguely down his own body-“that you literally ceased being able to function.”

He didn’t expect such easy agreement as the sheepish nod that followed his words. “Pretty much.”

Sam blinked slowly once, twice. For one long moment he considered teasing the man. Then he decided that their time was much better spent doing things they’d both obviously been wanting to do while assuming they would never get the chance.

“I was promised a tongue in my teeth. Are you gonna get to that any time soon or am I gonna sit here and pine some more for something I apparently could have had all along?”

Bucky keened piteously. Then he surged forward to follow through on his own promises and Sam really hoped that Steve had taken his words to heart about the curtains. The man was way too old to be seeing all the ways they were about to defile the side of this truck.

#rae writes #sambucky #winterfalcon #sam #bucky #steve #fanfiction #i'm not even really sorry either

35 notes · View notes

hearteyes-for-killmonger · 6 years

Text

No Place Like Home 💜

Dedicated to @marvelpotterlove 💜 Thank you for commissioning me and trusting me with your fic. This is a five part series. Reader is a single real estate agent in Cali. There will be fluff and mild drama. Also, this is super late but I got you and I'll make up for it. Word Count: 3,662

•▪• ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ •▪• ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ •▪•

Part 4: Break Some Eggs

At sunrise, Erik rose ready to stunt on the obnoxious trio he now referred to as the three stooges. Climbing from the top bunk he quietly hit twenty pushups, up and down quckly.. careful not to wake the sleeping beauty before grabbing his grooming kit and the mismatched red washcloth and blue towels he’d borrowed before Y/N fell asleep. She’d knocked out looking at listings and checking her emails. He didn’t expect anything different, she was a functional workaholic afterall. That was her whole bit. Heading to the empty bathroom while the house slept, he got started on the hygiene portion of his morning routine. He had to get in there before people started acting crazy over bathroom time. This seemed the type of group to fight about stupid shit. Under the hot stream of the shower, he thought through the day ahead. Today would be the bridal shower and bachelorette party. He’d go to the bridal shower to buffer whatever he could but she’d be on her own at the bachelorette party. What could he tell her to get her through? What scenarios would pop up to go wrong? Between work, her family, and these events what the fuck has she done to alleviate stress? She need to take a walk. Not in this crackhead neighborhood, but in Central Park or some shit.. a garden.. with flowers. Wrapped in the dingy blue towel, he popped his golds back in and moisturized his beard before a knock on the bathroom door interrupted him. He cracked it prepared to turn on his charm, but it was just the old man. He’d been missing from the welcome crew yesterday, but if anything it answered Erik’s question about his relationship with Y/N. It was nonexistent. What kind of childhood did she have? He had to wonder. Also, what happened to her actual dad?

"You must be Y/N's stepfather. I'm Erik," he opened the door wider, holding his hand out for the old man to shake, but unsurprisingly no handshake came. Erik's hand withdrew, his eyes still warm.. assessing.

Breezing into the bathroom and closing Erik out without his shit, the man began to gripe in bitter-man fashion, "Whole street know that by now..." It was muffled through the door, but that part was clear enough for Erik to hear. Old ass passive aggressive nigga. The spladow of a morning dump let Erik know to gone head and walk away. Stepdad had a bug up his ass just like the rest of the house, but it couldn’t be personal. It was a personality flaw and as long as stepdad stayed in his funky ass lane there would be no issue. Making his way back to the room he shared with Y/N, she was still peacefully sleeping. He silently pulled on his black joggers, his white Lost Tribe hoodie and his white Nike air max 90's before heading downstairs to activate his plan.

An uber took him to a nearby market where he bought a few items to make a grand breakfast. He was in and out, already aware of what he'd make and how long it would take. With the proper time management, it would be simple. Back at the house, he shook his head at the entrance. It was truly an ugly mothafuckin house. He wondered what Y/N’s house in Cali looked like. Hopefully she didn’t live this way. With her career and style, it wasn’t likely that she did. Anyway, none of that mattered at the moment. All he cared about was the kitchen. Stripping off his hoodie, He made sure the space was spotless before he cooked. Pancakes, fried eggs, potato hash, fresh strawberries and grapes, bacon, sweet blueberry muffins, and a few omelettes with homemade salsa. He poured champagne into four glasses, mixing it with orange juice and decorating with a bright orange wedge on each glass before starting on cleaning the unoccupied soiled dishes. He hoped the fam would be brought downstairs by the smell of the heavy food hitting their noses and he wasn't disappointed. A thud of footsteps came down the stairs, and he listened as they approached the kitchen. Throwing a quick glance over his shoulder, he could see that it was stooge number three, Jamira, and by the glint in her eyes.. she was checking out more than just the breakfast spread. He hid his annoyance, facing forward to wash a plastic bowl he'd used to mix batter in.

"Good morning, bride to be. You the first up?"

"Yerrr. Call me Mira and it looks that way. Whatcha cooking? Smells good in here." She walked forward, grazing his bare side with her fingertips, propping herself on the countertop to lean over him as he washed dishes. Touch barrier broken, here we go. “I love a man that cooks,” she gushed. He watched her eyes slide hungrily from his eyes to his lips and her head tilted, her stiff hair moving with her as a unit. Looked like a sew-in, but it could've been a wig. As her attention shifted to his exposed chest the volume went up in her mind making the questions and interest in her eyes loud. She obviously wondered about the markings but he didn't plan on answering not one of her questions.

"You hungry?" He tried to shift the atmosphere. Her thirst was obvious. She could lust from a distance as much as she wanted as long as she didn't touch him.. again.

"I am hungry, but I what I really want is what Y/N had last night. That shit? Whatever that was sounded delicious." He looked up at her bold comment, eyes low, judging and assessing. She held his gaze steadily. She was dead serious, coming onto her blood sister's man like a homewrecker. He’d expected her to test his loyalty to Y/N to see if she could come in between, but nah the look in her eyes went beyond that. She dead wanted him, he could feel it. Erik felt bad for the groom. His fiance was a rip. Did he know what type of woman he was marrying? The kind of family he was joining? Every moment with this family raised more questions. Maybe she was the type to want everything her older sister had, men included. Maybe she felt like her sister had the best life and this was her way of feeling special.

“Guess Marcus ain't hitting it right," he mumbled. Looking her up and down, he couldn't find anything she had that Y/N didn't. Nothing but the love of her family. It sickened him because he knew exactly how it felt to be an outcast among his own, fighting to make something of himself while they sat comfortable and united among themselves. Not even oblivious, but uncaring and cold. "Trust me, sweetheart. You couldn't handle all the freaky shit I be doing to ya big sis. She can barely handle that shit."

"TRY ME. She can’t hang because she a rough draft.. very rough. But I'm the final copy." Her long finger stroked a keloid on his large bicep, touch barrier broken yet again. It was starting to irritate him. He didn’t take well to being touched without his permission.

"Final copy my ass," he snorted. She blinked in surprise. She didn’t expect him to fire back at her. "You into metaphors, let’s do metaphors. You a rewrite with typos, but you found a nigga to marry you who’s illiterate and doesn’t care about all that.. so do yourself the favor and don't fuck that up messin with me." He honked her nose with his wet hand and she swatted it jumping down from the counter.

"Okay nigga, but I'm vigilant and I always get what I want. Deadass." Her hands went to her tiny hips confidently and his eyebrows rose. She wasn’t giving up, it was crazy. If anything his outburst made her thirstier. He couldn't help but snicker, his laugh sputtering as his knees went weak. Always.. Until now.

“C-c-c-combobreaker!” She frowned, not liking that but he found it hilarious. "You better want that weak dick nigga you marrying and sit down. I'd break yo lil ass in half. Here." He fixed her a plate and sat it on the table for her along with one of the mimosas. "Eat that and chill. Please." Of course she wouldn't chill. She had zero chill. He felt her eyes hard on his back muscles and a second set of footsteps approached. He did a double take as Y/N appeared in the tight black tank and red plaid pajama pants she'd changed into last night. It clung in all of the right places and his thoughts went straight to getting in them yams.

"Morning Love," she smiled, looking him up and down with equal thirst. He could feel his lips turning up in response and he nodded, a come hither look in his eye. Electricity fizzled in his veins. This was her effect on him. She came closer, encircling his waist with her soft arms and he rested his head against hers, her satin bonnet still in place. She smelled like hairspray but she was warm. After a quick, sweet peck on his lips she stepped away, releasing his wait. Her eyes were trained on her sister who rolled her beady eyes into her glass. Of course.. the smile, the hug.. it was just for show. Y/N looked back at him with a sneaky grin that simultaneously lifted and crushed him. The attention was for show and that greeting smile.. It wasn't even about him, she was only smiling because her sister was jealous. Her eyes lingered on his, concern lingering as she tried to decipher his mood. He pushed warmth into his eyes to ease her mind. Afterall, she was happy right now and that was all that mattered. He took her plate to the table and sat her across from stooge number three . He didn't need any subtle daggers ruining an otherwise quiet morning. Jamira seemed to be behaving and keeping her mouth shut as the two ate in silence. Suddenly, more footsteps approached. Larry and Curly.

"Who is in my damn kitchen cooking my gotda-" the rough and rasping voice fussed before pausing in the doorway. India. Erik smirked as her sentence cut off, noticing Iris' eyebrow raise in silent communication as if to say ‘Shut up’. India returned the gesture. Handing Iris her plate and mimosa, he met her shameless eyes with a "Good morning." She gripped the drink quickly, but her hand lingered on the plate for seconds, not grabbing it. She was stuck, staring dead at his face. He flashed his charming grin, watching her eyes go to the flicker of light reflecting off his bottom gold fangs. If she were to push her with one finger, she'd probably fall dramatically to the floor in a puddle. She finally took the plate and moved to the side, her eyes sliding to abs and crotch in his joggers now fully soft. Resisting the urge to shake his head at all the thirst in the house, he fixed India's plate next and handed it to her. She looked like he'd handed her a bomb. "You in here wasting my gahdamn groceries? Leave it to a nigga to come in here and fuc-"

"Ma'am..,” he called and she paused mid-rant, focusing on him. As irritable and bitter as she was, that thang between her thighs and her eyes still worked. She wasn’t immune to his charms and she could use her brain to observe that she ain’t have no champagne or oranges in the house before his arrival. “Do I look like a broke ass nigga that need to use my girl or her mama shit?" His eyebrow raised daring her to lie as he crossed his bulky arms. She looked at him and then into the plate, hesitant before taking her ass to the table to sit. Within seconds, she started wolfing the shit like it was edible cocaine. "Taste good?" He asked with a teasing smirk causing her to catch herself and slow down. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she remembered her table manners.

"Who taught you to cook like this," Iris, clearly humored, asked between loud wet smacks of pancake. It was a basic ass breakfast honestly. Pancakes, meat, eggs, potatoes, and mimosas and they were eating it up like it was gourmet.

"My daddy," he said fixing his own plate. It was the truth he didn't wanna elaborate on. With the exception of Y/N, they ain't deserve it and if she really wanted to know she could ask him herself.

"Your daddy?! Well. Is he single?" Iris swirled her glass. “What do you do for a living, Erik,” India interjected. “You get those bedroom skills from ya daddy too? I might need to--” “IRIS. Hush! He wanna date my lil nappy ass daughter, I need to know what he has going for himself. Lil’ boy.. what do you do for a liv--”

“WHO MOVED MY MEDICATION,” a loud gruff voice yelled from upstairs. “IT’S IN THE DRAWER,” India yelled back. “WHERE MY MEDICATION,” the voice yelled again. “DAMMIT IT’S IN THE SAME GOTDAM--” India jumped up grumbling and made her way upstairs.

“Anyway.. I need to get ready for my bridal shower. Aunt Iris, help me choose a wig.” Jamira sighed lifting from the table and Iris followed suit, heading toward the stove. On cue Y/N spoke up, “Erik, while we’re gone would you mind--”

“He’s not your slave, Y/N. He’s a man.. but OF COURSE,” she paused as though remembering something important, “Wow, you never could keep one of those, could you?” Her frown was mocking while Iris spit the swig of champagne she’d stolen back into the bottle, laughing. Erik watched Y/N’s eye twitch as her younger sister made her dramatic exit. She popped her head back into the kitchen briefly to invite Erik to the bridal shower, sending him a wink and dropping her eyes in attempt to locate a dick print before disappearing again.

“Chill out,” Erik whispered to Y/N once they were alone. “Consider the source and don’t let their bullshit get to you.”

“Why does everyone hate me here? Did I do something? I just don’t get it..”

“No, no. It’s not you. Sometimes people have issues within themselves.. Different flaws and shortcomings, regrets.. and they take those out on you. It’s not your burden to bare. The only thing you’re responsible for is keeping yourself healthy and mentally clear. Look at me.” She was slow to look up, still in her head. He had to grab her chin and turn it. “I know what I’m talking about, okay? It’s them. It’s not you, you have nothing to prove to anyone. But if you keep absorbing this negative fuckin energy it’s gonna be you too. Do you want that?”

“Hell no,” she growled looking a bit more present.

“Gimme that growl a lil bit louder. Do you want that negative shit in your life?”

“HELL NO,” she yelled with the fire of a hellcat. It made his dick twitch. He knew what he was getting into tonight.

“DAMN RIGHT,” He barked, watching her exhale a long calming breath.

“Did you eat anything,” she squinted.

“Not yet, but I got time. I just gotta change clothes, I already took my shower. It’s just you and your funky ass family that gotta get cleaned up.”

“Yeah, okay,” she grinned. “You can wear anything just make sure you actually put on a shirt. The way these people thirst around here, won’t nobody be able to focus.”

“These people? You mean you and your family? I thought you were gonna bite me the way you were staring.” He flinched for comedic effect and her gaping expression was priceless.

---

The three stooges piled into their small van together, Jamira offering Erik a ride and completely ignoring Y/N's presence. They all treated her like an afterthought.

"Let's just blow it off and you show me your New York," he whispered in her ear pulling out his phone for another uber. She shook her head and pulled him into the van. He was irritated until she gave a silent vicious scowl that let him know she was still growling on the inside. She wanted to go to the shower.. So they went.

The car pulled up to a brownstone in Bed Stuy. Once inside, there were ribbons and streamers tied everywhere and balloons littered the floor. "Cousin. Cousin. Family friend. Marcus' mama and sister.. and then I don't know," Y/N nodded subtly at the women in the room answering Erik's unspoken question. Women old and young, mostly young filled the living room and kitchen space.

"Cheap crystal, no effort decor, and bad appetizers.." he whispered in Y/N's ear as he bit a mozarella cheesestick. Wasn't a fruit or vegetable in sight. It was a culinary and aesthetic disgrace.

"Don't forget the flood of FashionNova," she added lowly.

"Why we here again?" They could've been at the park, at a restaurant, a movie, anywhere else where they could be alone.

"You mean you don't like free champagne and hors d'oeuvres?”

"Erik! Come," Jamira waved, the double meaning in her words lost on no one. Only Y/N saw his deep eyeroll and she touched his cheek in support. He crossed the floor to where Jamira stood with few other women. "Yeah, he's staying with us for time being. He came for my wedding, so no he's not the stripper," she sounded disappointed.

"That's too bad," one said, drunk off of champagne. "If only he were single," another said looking him up and down in full view of Y/N.

"Oh no, I couldn’t be single. I love my baby too much. Baby!” He called out and Y/N caught the hint, coming to his side. “This woman is my future.” A quick nudge in the side and Y/N was on board. She rested her hands on his shoulders as his wrapped around her waist.

“Yes, I can’t be without this man. I’m sure y’all know how it feels when someone loves you so much you can see your life in their eyes,” Y/N smiled, her eyes innocent of malice. Erik knew better. She was as shady as he was. Shots fired. He was proud. Whisking her away from the group to the middle of the room, he rocked her back and forth, swaying to the new Lil Wayne music like it was a waltz. Her bright eyes were alight and he knew she was enjoying the moment, completely stress-free.

Then the party games came. Guessing how many skittles were in a jar, Bingo, and a bride and groom trivia. That last one got spicy, the groom’s sister and mama was there so where most people didn’t know personal details about the man, Marcus, his family would overshare shit that they shouldn’t have. No one needed to know when he was potty trained or that he stopped pissing the bed when he was twelve.

“Hold on, hold on y’all. We here for Jamira,” India rasped, her words slightly slurring. She must’ve been lit too. “Everyone here for Jamira, it’s Jamira’s day, but her big sister finally came back from across the world and I think we should acknowledge her here too. She brought a man, over there. You see them all close like they engaged.”

“MOM,” Jamira hissed. Erik watched the outburst from his seat. Y/N was comfortable leaning against him, close. She didn’t move a muscle.

“What? Jamira, I just need to know what the boy does. He been all up in my house and I still don’t know. When is a right time to ask?“

“Oh my god, not now!” Jamira looked at her future in-laws apologetically. She was trying to show a better side of herself and her mother’s all too honest outburst was a setback and an embarrassment for her. Erik wondered how the groom saw her. Apparently she was into hiding shit. A look at Y/N confirmed his suspicions. Jamira wasn’t herself around her fiance or his family. He shook his head, keeping it between him and Y/N. India’s eyes went back to Erik and he decided to answer her. Why not?

“Alright,” he shrugged. “Sup everybody, my name is Erik. I own a restaurant out in Cali and I’m also a chef.”

“Yeah, I go there all the time. That’s how we met actually,” Y/N added. It wasn’t a lie.

“How long you been together? Both of you answer at the same time,” India challenged trying to catch her daughter in a lie. “Four months,” they both said without missing a beat and Y/N laid a fat kiss on his lips catching him off-guard. His expression made her giggle and in turn he smiled.

“Mom,” Jamira hissed again. She was pissed, but trying not to go off. Y/N was stealing her thunder on her day without trying. It was their own fault. The party went back to its original focus and India sat down to gossip with some of the other women.

“You ready to go yet,” Erik whispered. “No, I gotta stay and go to the bachelorette party. Everyone’s leaving from here to go to the strip club.”

“Yeah, about that. I already called the uber. I’m a head out and you enjoy yourself. Don’t get too wild.. Judging by your expression right now I don’t have to worry about that.” She didn’t look interested in it, but she still wanted to go. She was definitely loyal. He could respect that. “I’m leaving, but be easy and if anyone try you you can text me, call me, anything. I’ll come to you. Okay?”

She nodded and he kissed her on the forehead wishing her good luck before taking his leave. “Aight,” he said waving at the party on his way out. This next part, would be all Y/N.

@hold-me-like-a-heart-beat @simplyyamberr @vanitykocaine @bitemyxxx @bonita-juanita @eriknutinthispoosy @blackpinup22 @thadelightfulone @yaachtynoboat711 @youreadthatright @inlovewithmakeupcomicsanimelove @bidibidibombaclaat @priya212 @romanceoftheeveryday @muse-of-mbaku @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @kreolemami @myboyfriendgiriboy @loosewindmill @wakanda-inspired @madbadsiren @theunsweetenedtruth @panthergoddessbast @allhailnjadaka @amethyst1993 @ange-sensuel @thehomierobbstark @purplehairgawdess @supersizemeplz @blackpantherismyish @drsunshine97 @thiccdaddy-mbaku @wawakanda-btch @killmongersmisstress @imaginewhoever @nemesispawn @niggarachi15 @hidden-treasures21 @pupyluv247 @phoenixxx1225 @violet-ines @indigoxsummers @janelledarling @imasmille @sweetsexysavagery @mermaidchansons @destinio1 @ash-moneyy @ljstraightnochaser @forbeautyandlife @iamrheaspeaks @elle-luring @yoyolovesbucky @ilovebubblesz @awkardlyabstract @beautifulqueenflaws @slimmiyagi @sidneebleu

#erik killmonger #erik killmonger imagine #erik killmonger imagines #erik stevens #erik stevens au #killmonger #original #erik killmonger x reader #erik x reader #erik killmonger fanfiction #erik stevens x reader #erik stevens x you #erik killmonger smut #killmonger smut #killmonger imagine

298 notes · View notes