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#Erik killmonger x Reader
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Originally posted by fandomnom

I do NOT own this image. It also kinda doesn’t have anything to do with the chapter but mmm he looks good.

Summary: The reality of your situation settles over you and you have to make a difficult choice on what to do moving forward

Pairing: Erik KIllmonger x Reader

Words: 2045

Warnings: Angst, whoopsie, I promise it’ll get happier…. eventually

A/N: Hey guys I hope you enjoy this chapter, please like and share. I’m trying to give this writing thing a go and it would mean a lot if you could give it a quick share. if you wanna be tagged in future parts let me know and I’ll add you

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Characters: Erik Stevens x black!reader, Nicky Fury x daughter!reader

Summary: Its time for your dad to meet your boyfriend.

Warnings: None

A/N: Based off this imagine. After almost a year its finally here! I hope you all enjoy it.

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Originally posted by gwensstacy-archived

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Originally posted by savvy-ivvory

“Okay, remember to play nice. My dad can be intense.” You warned Erik before ringing the doorbell.

“As long as he ain’t on some fuck shit.” Erik was already not too fond of the work your father did.

“Erik!”

“Aight, I’ll be nice.” He changed the tune of his story when he saw the crazy look in your eyes.

The front door opened and revealed Tony Stark. “What are you doing here?” You asked shoving the cake in his hands.

“Nice to see you too, kid.” He kissed the top of your head. Despite your love-hate relationship, Tony was like a big brother to you. Actually, all the avengers were like older siblings to you.

“Stevens.”

“Stark.”

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erik killmonger x black!gender neutral!reader

rating: e

warnings: none.

DNI IF UNDER 18.

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Originally posted by madblackpunkbitch

He tugs you through the cloying smoke of the hallway, through a string of entangled bodies, all in varying states of undress, until he finally comes to a stop at the fire exit door. He takes one look at you and the look on your face is enough to have him pushing the door open and tripping the alarm.

He doesn’t give a fuck.

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S/O to @shaekingshitup​ and @chaneajoyyy​ I needed this challenge to get me back. It pushed me to finally get this out of my head. I played with the idea of adding a third chapter to this mini series, but damn it we deserve. I just love a happy ending and I couldn’t help myself. It’s short but nice. I’ll be doing another one. :) Hope y’all like it.

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“Brown skin girl
Your skin just like pearls
The best thing in the world
Never trade you for anybody else” - Beyoncé, Saint Jhn, and Wizkid feat. Blue Ivy Carter

A/N: This is one of my participations to the Quarantine Writing Challenge proposed by @chaneajoyyy and @shaekingshitup (won’t let me tag you) I hope you guys enjoy it! I’ve also been dying to use this song for a fic because I love it so much

Word Count: 1783

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*******************
You hummed to yourself trying to keep yourself calm with this fidgeting little girl between your legs. The fidgeting little girl is your adorable, sweet, and at the moment, very annoying daughter Sarai. You were trying to do her hair but it was like she didn’t want you to. She wasn’t usually like this so you figured she was just having an off day where she didn’t want her hair messed with. You understood completely. You kept on understanding until it got too damn irritating.

You huffed putting the wide-tooth comb on the bed beside you. “Ok Sarai. What’s the problem?”

You could hear her pouting and she mumbled something incoherent.

“Excuse me? Mommy is speaking to you clearly so can you give mommy the same treatment back? And face me…” You turned her around to look at her pouty, dismal expression. It hurt you to see your baby so sad. “When I’m talking to you. That’s how a conversation works. Now tell mommy what’s wrong.”

“I want my hair straight.”

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In My Mind x 05

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Firm foundations and sturdy hands

still crumble under tyranny

“Where exactly are you taking me,” you slur through toothpaste, spitting it in the sink before rinsing. It’s still early, 8:45, but he’s fast, putting on clothes in his room while you take the bathroom.

“Well you need clothes, I ain’t forget.”

“And hair products, a curling iron, satin cap, my own body wash,” you add using his mouthwash. It’s good he has extras of the basics. The bathroom door is cracked so he can walk in and hand you a stick of deodorant which you jam under your arms and set in an empty drawer with your toothbrush for your own. “Okay, v-neck come through.”

Full business casual, he comes up beside you in the mirror brushing his shaved sides down and you walk out to put your shoes back on, wearing the same clothes from yesterday.

The way out of the building is just as smooth as the way in. You take a staircase to a display where his glossy burgundy BMW sits with tinted windows and custom tags.. his trophy.. and then you get in. He presses a button and you sink through tinted glass looking out at the view until you reach ground and the wall goes up behind you allowing him to back out onto pavement.

“I’ll never get over that,” you mumble looking through the side mirror to watch the opening shut. His own private entrance. A ‘sky garage’ he called it.

“Nia..”

“Hm..”

“What do you think about Black Wall Street?” He’s driving somewhat normal now, only six miles over the speed limit and you haven’t felt like you were going to fall through the door yet which is a plus.

“Black business, black mecca.”

“It’s been the pinnacle of black successful business. If you look at Tulsa, Jackson Ward, Durham.. We were at the height of self-sufficiency. We had bankers, builders, mechanics, electricians, cooks, shoemakers, tailors…. hairstylists. Anything you needed, you’d get from your own people and it worked! We were putting money in each other’s pockets and building wealth with each other, taking pride in our blackness instead of tryna be the third white race… you know Asians are the second.”

“I was with you until that last one.”

“Nia, you know what happened to all them cities?”

“They were destroyed.”

“By who? Did we destroy ourselves?”

“Boy. Who are you, Dr. Umar?”

“That’s what you think?”

You touch the small black, red, and green beaded necklace with the wooden brown carved Africa pendent sitting in his cupholder.

“Umar Johnson is an ignorant misogynist who uses his platform to spread false information while robbing his followers. That’s what you think of me?”

You blink. “No, I only meant the superwoke part.”

“Unlike him, I have a Ph.D and I don’t think AIDS came from gay black men, but it was intended to decimate the black population.”

“I get it, don’t compare you,” you mutter watching the Oakland city views through your tinted window. People are out, strutting and power-walking on sidewalks and jogging across streets to work.

“Who destroyed our black wall streets?”

“White people,” you sigh giving him what he wants.

“Never forget that the US National Guard united with White Nationalists in 1921 to bomb and shoot up the Greenwood District of Tulsa. They destroyed 35 blocks of self-sufficient black business, murdering an estimated 200 people and injuring more. This is what happens when you and I pull ourselves up by our bootstraps in this country. Jackson Ward? Socio-economic assault. They built a highway right through it and put their own businesses around it to undercut our efforts. They chased us out and sent us to housing projects then filled them with drugs. You see where I’m going with this?”

“I think I’m starting to.”

“Nia, you’ve seen my dreams, you’ve seen where I’ve been. I’ve stood on both sides and seen firsthand how easy it is to infiltrate and decimate an entire city, a region even with the right intelligence and firepower. Hell, I’ve even pulled the trigger and I’m not proud, but it was a necessary evil for me to see that it doesn’t matter how strong you build or how pure your intentions are. When a government decides that you’ve surpassed the ceiling of poverty they’ve designed specifically for you they’ll wipe out a generation, drug you up, and restart you from zero. Do you understand how deep this goes?”

You finger the beaded necklace in your lap. Of course you understand everything he’s saying, but what he’s expecting from you is a different story and you won’t agree to anything prematurely.

“Where’s the end,” you ask. How will he know when he’s accomplished this great mission he’s been on for most of his life? It’s all he breathes. Will he even survive without the fight as his purpose? Keeping your silence, you watch his profile as he turns left.

“Africa. Africa was the start and it’ll be the end, but in the meantime we need to provide legal and physical protection here, major city by city. We need safe houses, secured and armed.. built to withstand the force of a nuclear weapon.”

“How will you manage that?”

“How long will it take is the question.” Pulling up to a building standing among other buildings, this one is as big as a high school with lettering across the front reading Wakandan International Outreach Center. Temporarily, you put the fact that you’re supposed to be shopping to the back of your mind. You’ve heard of this place on the news, but somehow you didn’t put this together. He parks in front of some well manicured bushes in a space marked for the CEO.

“You’re the CEO?” You look around at the cars in the lot, the WIOC bus, and to the people walking inside.

“You ain’t know? Ms. See Everything?”

“If I saw everything, I’d have figured this thing out between us. Don’t ya think?”

He steps out and adjusts his tie. He’s got the grey v-neck sweater vest, the white collared shirt underneath. The navy chinos.. and the navy oxfords.

Getting out, you spin showing off the same outfit you’ve been wearing and his brows raise subtly as you walk in beside him. Immediately he’s rushed with greetings from the three people at the front desk, two guys and a girl, all wearing black WIOC shirts with blue and purple lettering that reminds you of a 90s paper cup pattern. Very stylish and retro.

The girl with the baby face and two long feed-in braids, is reaching out, grabbing your hand to stamp with some sort of mallet which he gently blocks with two fingers on her wrist before it makes contact.

“Shakila, this is an affiliate,” he stares. The girl straightens, backing up meekly and the guy to her right.. the one with a rougher feel and a troublesome glint in his eye can’t be over 21, you guess. He rolls out from behind the desk and you see he’s wearing all black roller skates with orange and green swirled wheels. They look custom.

“72 people in the building, boss, counting you two. Ghost and Slim out patrolling, say we gotta bluebird.. 5-0 campin at Fuller’s they up to something but they been quiet..up there since about 8:15 this morning.”

“Keep watching. Let me know if anything changes.”

“Yezzir.” He rolls off down the hall and makes a right, disappearing.

“Donnie, how you doin,” Erik asks the man who’s been reading a magazine, chillin. He’s bald, light skin, and looks over 40. He’s also as big as Erik! His muscles make his t-shirt took like a muscle shirt, it’s tight, but it seems more of a personal style choice than an issue of not being able to get a bigger shirt.

Erik taps the desk before continuing down a short hall that splits into three and you walk alongside him, making a left when he makes a left and passing two young boys in the hall.

“An affiliate?”

“They thought I was bringing you in for assistance,” he clarifies and your face scrunches. “But you and your salon might be interested in becoming affiliates after I give you the tour.”

“Really? Wow..” This thing with him just keeps getting stranger.

“This is the women’s dorm,” he stops in front of a large expanded room, a space filled with about.. “Twenty beds, ten bunk beds. Forty women can sleep here with their kids. They call and we hold the spot or they show up and take it. That’s all the beds we could fit in there but I’m thinking of expanding. The men’s dorm is on the other side of the building. Don’t worry, we have security. No incidents yet. Further down,” he leads and you follow him down the clean tile hall. He takes you into another opening that says locker room.

“It’s like a YMCA in here.” You turn looking all through at the rows of lockers with actual locks, the showers, four toilet stalls, four sinks.

“There are 60 lockers, eight showers, eight stalls, eight sinks, two washers, and two dryers.”

“Y'all water bill high.” Looking back to him, he smiles and nods for you to head out into the hall again as you follow him. “This place is nice, if I didn’t have my apartment, I’d try to stay someplace like this.”

“It’s our safe place for homeless kids and families or just people who need a place to be without having to look over their shoulder, wondering where their meal coming from or who’s after them.”

Pausing, you look around and Erik stops. This place is beautiful. He’s even got the babies’ art hanging on the walls making the place warmer.

“You good?”

“Yeah.. You know, I’d actually love to be affiliated with this place. I wanna donate. How do I do that?”

“I’m glad you asked, Nia. Keep walking with me. Let me show you the rest,” he smirks, speeding up as he unlocks a door with his handprint that lights up blue.

“What the hell,” you mutter staring between him and the door.

“Staff only entrance. Extra measure to keep the women safe on this side, if you wanna leave or come in, there’s one way and you gotta get through security, that way you’re only back here if you’re supposed to be.

"Makes sense.”

Through the door is another hall that’s perpendicular to the one you just left. You follow him left and come to a large open cafeteria full of people sitting at tables, eating. Men, women, small children, teens, all black for the most part. There is a sprinkle of darker skin that isn’t black. A mother with three young kids and then an old man.

“How do you get away with only taking black people? Isn’t that 'discrimination’,” you ask with air quotes. Not that you take issue with it, you’re just curious. He laughs.

“When the colonizers come we just tell them we don’t have the space and if there’s an issue we have Donnie escort them out. We don’t get governmental assistance, we’re not required to run how they think we should run. We screen everyone who comes through and take who we think will benefit from our programs.

"Wow, I’m with it,” you smile following him to the food line.

“Gone 'head baby,” the older woman in front of him waves for you both to go ahead. He puts his hand on her back and kisses her cheek and the line ahead happily parts like the red sea letting the both of you through with a quickness. They love him. They genuinely love him. They also all have stamps on their hand. One woman is trying to pull her stubborn toddler aside and out of the way, but Erik sweeps him up and sits the boy on his hip, winking at the woman before passing you a white dish and grabbing two more.

“What you want lil man,” he asks as he goes through each option fixing two plates. One (sausage links, grits, eggs, bacon, fried potatoes, pancakes, fruit cup) for himself and one (sausage links, bacon, eggs, pancake, fruit cup) for the kid.

Choosing a table, you sit with your plate (some of everything because it looks good) and Erik follows, sitting across from you with the kid and the two plates.

“I’ll get the drinks,” you offer heading back to pick up two glasses of apple juice, making it to the table before returning for one more glass and three straws. You pass them out and take your seat, mouth watering and ready to eat.

“Bow your head and close your eyes, please.” You lower yours and wait.

“I don’t close my eyes.” He lowers his head and you say the prayer as the toddler reaches into Erik’s plate grabbing one of his sausages. Erik doesn’t look up but he shakes his head with a slow smile and you try to keep from laughing as you finish saying grace.

“Amen,” you snort picking up your fork.

“This why I keep my eyes open,” he points to the kid, shaking his head in humor. He sets the boy in the seat and hands him a piece of his own sausage. Looking over, you see the mom approaching with her plate and an apologetic smile.

“Lord,” she sighs. She’s pretty though she looks tired. “I’m so sorry, he’s a handful, I know.”

“Not at all,” Erik smiles. She sits next to her son and he automatically starts pulling on her, saying “mama, mom, mommy,” just busy, so she pulls him onto her lap to keep him still. They’re both cute and remind you of Lia and her son, Jackson.

“This is Chyna.. and Orion,” he palms the boy’s head playfully. “Chyna, this is Nia,” he nods digging into his plate.

“Hi Nia,” she smiles and you reach out to take her hand, asking how she is. She’s great but ready to eat, she laughs and for a while you all just focus on eating.

“Mommy,” Orion starts and you understand 40% of what he just said. His mom entertains him with hums of “Really? Oh wow,” as she eats, feeding bacon into his hands.

“You here for a job,” she asks looking up and it’s an innocent question.

“I’m here on tour of the facility, just lookin-”

“Nia is an affiliate and potential shareholder. We’re in discussion,” he interrupts.

“Oh okay..,” Chyna’s eyes widen. “So you’re getting a feel of the center. Let me tell you why this place is so important,” she says all humor gone.

“Me and my son have been here for the past few nights.. a few nights before that.. and then maybe a week prior.” She looks to Erik and he nods.

“His father, Rashaad,” she continues, gesturing to her son, “He died last month and didn’t leave a dime. I talked to his family and my family and they told me I could sign over his body and the state would cremate him,” she pauses, still in shock from it. “…But I couldn’t do that…” Tears leak from her eyes and you look around for a napkin. She swallows, her eyes turning pink, and takes a breath. “Then there was the rent.. We hadn’t paid it for the month and our extension was running out,” she sniffs. “Well I had a funeral to plan, I couldn’t let the state take him.”

Orion, feeling her sadness, rubs her face to try to make her feel better and she tries to pull herself together.

“So ah-” she wipes her nose. “I took a chance and contacted the Wakandan International Outreach Center and they not only paid for the burial and the coffin, they sent a representative to the funeral for words of encouragement and I’ll never forget that,” she sighs. Erik keeps his eyes down to his plate.

“See, his daddy.. was a hood,” she continues, eyes dead on yours. You know what she’s talking about. You don’t have to grow up in Cali to have family in the streets. “He was shot out there in the streets in a driveby…,” she sniffs. “And you know.. people like to talk a lotta shit, but even if he wasn’t nothing to nobody else, he was someone to me. I loved him.”

“We’re working on getting Chyna a higher paying job to cover her rent,” Erik interjects giving her time to wipe her face.

“Yeah, they paid the rent for the month and they’re paying next month. I’m taking the class on building a resume now. I’m still working at Ross, I’m just trying to do everything I can.

"You’re doing a lot,” you offer and Erik gestures for you to stand to follow him out. “It was good to meet you and hear your experience,” you smile shaking her hand.

“Thank you, and I’m glad you’re trying to help. We need more people like him,” she points to Erik.

“Shit, don’t boost me,” he smiles. It’s something he’s done a lot since he’s been here and you’ve noticed that his smile is something that brings so much peace and a sense of safety to these people. Still, looking at him you can see deep down there’s a spot in him that isn’t touched. It’s full of rage and intense sadness that his smile can’t cover. If only the peace he provided to all these people would reach him.

@thickemadame @just-juicee @kenbieeereadss @honeytoffee

Previous Chapters:

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Marvel Universe | Black Panther
Erik Stevens [ N’Jadaka ]

He hasn’t had a true friend in a while. No companionship; only his hunger for vengeance; his missions to kill before he can take the throne of his father’s home. Erik figured he didn’t need it, not when he’d been without love since losing his father as a child.
No. Erik – Killmonger – didn’t want a friend. 
Then why did he not assert himself when you trailed behind him? He’d been aggressive with civilians before. Toppling governments for the U.S. never required him to be warm to the people of developing nations; but you were so like a lost puppy, so like, if he dared admit, him, after finding his father dead, that he just couldn’t. So he bit his tongue and endured your presence.
Endured – that was what he called it. You were a nuisance after all, no? You had no training to protect yourself, nothing to help him and his colleagues in their mission. You had nothing that Erik could respect. Right?
Wrong.
In the face of his coldness, you’d never failed to be kind. Perhaps you had no idea what he was there to do – the chaos he and his colleagues were sent to create. He had half a mind to tell you just to be rid of you.
But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Erik didn’t want to.
He’d forgotten what it was like to have someone he could die for. More than that, he’d forgotten the warmth of caring about someone one could live for. Erik had forgotten entirely how to live. But not when he was around you.
He had a friend again, at last. Maybe one day he could shoot some hoops with you and just… relax. But not someday soon.
He still had his father to avenge.

I claim no credit for the gif. All credit goes to its wonderful creator. xx

welcometohellweofferimagines
welcometohellweofferimagines
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Characters: Erik Stevens x black!reader

Summary: ITS ABOUT TO GO DOWN (lol that’s all you’re getting) 

Warnings: THE FLUFFIEST SMUT lol.  Its 6.1k words.

A/N: I’m so happy I finally got this out! I think I got about 2-3 more chapters then this series will be finished. 

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Originally posted by savvy-ivvory

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Originally posted by darianf0rrester

Erik did not want to be at this day party at all. He rather be bothering you, getting on your last nerve. But today you had plans with Deja and Shannon, and he promised T’Challa he would socialize more. So, when some of his old associates from the kill squad wanted to link up, he said yes.

He saw the group of guys sitting at a table in the back. “Killmonger, what’s up, man” The man he known as Slice asked.

“Nothing much,” Erik said taking his seat. “And just call me Erik. That Killmonger shit is done.”

“Shit, I heard you were out, but didn’t believe it. What fuck you doing now?” Roman another teammate asked.

“I’m an engineer at the Wakandan Outreach Center.”

Bones, the biggest out of all of them shoved Erik excitedly almost knocking him over. “Word? I knew your smart ass would be doing big things!”

A grunt came from the corner, Erik’s been ignoring. Although Erik wasn’t particularly close with his crew members, but he couldn’t stand Painkiller’s ass. Something about that light-skinned nigga rubbed him the wrong way. Perhaps it was because they were too alike. Alphas among alphas, cocky, methodical, smart, and ruthless.

“Getting soft, Killmonger?” Painkiller asked, hiding a smirk behind his glass.

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Erik Killmonger X Black!Reader

Warnings: Angst(?) 

Word Count: 1,854 

This is the first fic I have ever written and I have no clue if this is good or not, ngl. I am super nervous about posting this, I’ve read so much fanfic and been too scared to write but today I just said F it! The gif is not mine!

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Originally posted by kaijukoffee

“Bye girl!”

“Bye Leigh! Thanks for the party, tell Marvin if he tries some shit imma beat his ass when I see him next!” I shout at one of my homegirls who has been fucking around with this high key chill but hella ignorant POS.

“Take yo fine ass to bed sis, GOODNIGHT!” She scoffs as she speeds off in her whip. I chuckle as I make my way into my shared apartment with one of my besties from college, Cameron. I have known her for the past 10 years and she truly has been a ride or die who makes sure that we both have our heads screwed on straight. As I make my way up into the apartment I notice that the lights are all off, which isn’t unusual because it is about 2:30 and she heads off to bed hella early, always talking bout how she “got work in the morning”. She gets her ass up at 8:00 every morning… weekends included, I don’t know how somebody would willingly wake up that early on weekend but Cami does. I cut on the light over the kitchen and notice a note on the counter that just tells me that I’m on dish duty next week and that there is also a surprise in my room. I swear if I walk in that room and there is some random shit in it, Imma wake her up and keep her up till the sun say what’s poppin’. I trot into my room carrying my shoes and drop them by the side of my dresser, when they make contact with the floor the light abruptly turns on. I grab tightly on my clutch and get ready to swing.

“Damn Ma, chill, its just lil’ ole me”

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One Night Only 2, Part 7

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But what DMs? Who’s talking shit about me,“ you hiss mid-stair. He’s halfway down the hall.

"Bring ya ass on,” he whisper-yells and you jog over to grab his wrist demanding his focus.

“Tell me.”

“I hear you,” he says a little forcefully, unzipping the fly to his black Levi’s and walking sock-footed into the main bathroom on the way to the toilet.

“Okay so? Why have you never brought any of this up to me? And how many of these messages you been getting?”

“Hella. Bae, get out I gotta piss.”

“I need to see these messages.”

“You finna see more than that.”

“I don’t care, I’ve seen your dick before.. Erik!..”

“Out,” he points to the door. 

Closing it behind you, you wait in the hall while he does his business. When he opens the door he double-blinks shocked to see you standing so close, glaring up at him.

“You never mentioned it… Don’t you think that’s something important to tell me?”

“For what,” he deadpans. “What would you do with that information?”

“Tell you I’m not cheating!”

“I know you not cheating.” He says it so matter-of-factly that it catches you off guard.

“It’s just odd. Someone sends you pictures and you aren’t the least bit curious?”

“Should I suspect you?”

“Hell nah! I’m very loyal,” you scoff. “But with all these seeds being planted in your mind, you never had any doubts about me?”

“Once or twice,” he admits, his forearm now resting on the wall over your head.

“WHEN?” Your eyes are wide.

“You remember when I hit you up and you said you was at the studio, but my producer ain’t see you?”

Of course I remember that.

“I couldn’t figure out why you’d lie to me about something that small.”

“Erik, that was the night I wanted to surprise you by having your favorite cheesecake from Sugar’s because I was excited you were coming home!”

“I know that now,” he smirks sarcastically. It was also the first night we played with food and sex. The cake was a mess, we had to buy new sheets. “Only reason I was trippin then was cuz three niggas DM’d me the same video saying you was in the clubs with 6lack and that I’m a simp cuz the nigga was kissing all down your neck.” He rubs down his own thick neck in distaste for the mental image. “I zoomed,” he pinched the air, “She looked like you, her skin and her hair. Side profile. The fucked up part was I knew through the business 6lack was tryna collab and you were on to collab with a rapper. Plus I was away for a lil bit. But I looked at that picture real close and I saw she had green polish. Last I’d seen, you were wearing white.”

“I’ve never even- …what? Erik! You should’ve told me!”

“No need. Even if the rumors were true, I wouldn’t leave you.. Not immediately.”

“Not immediately, but you’d dip on my ass and I wouldn’t know why.” That actually kind of hurts. “I mean, I do get it. Cheating is definitely my dealbreaker.”

“Oh for sure. Disloyalty is mine and I hate liars.”

“Wow,” I mouth just staring at him. “You really never hit me with the questions..”

“I checked up on you to make sure you were straight,” he straightens defensively.

“No, I know. I mean clocking my moves. You never did that.”

“I’m not your last nigga,” his brow raises indignantly. “You know where home is just like I know what I deserve.”

“You’re right, you deserve the best. You deserve me,” you smile, the smile drooping seconds later. “Erik, those messages.. all these lies about me. They really bother me and I know they shouldn’t and that I should get used to it but I don’t like having my integrity on trial like this. I don’t get why people would say so much about someone they’ve never met, like I’m not a person with emotions.”

He unlocks his phone and taps a few times and when he shows you the screen it’s his Twitter account. His DM’s are packed full of people, just like yours. It suddenly hits you how you never check each others’ phones. You never felt a need to check his. He puts his phone in your hand and you scroll opening a random message.  It’s a nude of a blonde white woman sent with no other information. She’s showing pale pink nipples and barbie proportions but he hadn’t responded. The next message is one from one of his fan accounts sending him a bunch of hearteyes. He takes over the phone exiting out of that and scrolling. The next message he shows, they’d forwarded a post about you fucking 6lack with a sad face emoji.  You open it and have to admit there’s a strong resemblance, but you’ve never, ever cheated on him.

“What the hell? That’s not even me, I swear!”

“I know.”

“This is raising my blood pressure.”

“It goes with the fame. They always talk shit about me being a fuckboy even though I been with you all this time. It just means you’re relevant.”

“There’s gotta be other ways to stay relevant- Shh. Wait… You hear that?”

You listen to the air. It’s silent, you just noticed. You decide to peep in on the baby. He’s still knocked out. Though it’s quiet now, he’d slept through another World War and it makes you wonder how bad Nay and Corey have been cuttin up in that apartment for this kid to be that used to the noise. Nay probably underplayed the severity of the situation.

Erik cracks the door again concealing the baby from your sight to direct you to the stairs with a nod. Leading the way, you head down silently

in search of Anaya. She’s not in the living room where you’d left her with Corey and they’re not in the kitchen, his favorite place.

“Where did she go,” you mouth watching Erik peep through a window and cross the room. You look through the same window, see nothing, and follow Erik as he heads to the hot tub. As you approach, you can hear noises. Splashing, plopping, moaning, and..

“Shit, y'all getting it in ain’t you,” Erik grins. Anaya’s body melts into the water as she grips the edge of the hot tub to hide. Corey hits one more pump and she hits him, not wanting to moan.

“GET OUT,” Corey yells sending a splash out of the tub in Erik’s direction. It sprinkles you both, but most of the water falls back down as you hop back.

“This my house,” Eriks grins.

“And I like to watch,"  you add, humored by the fact that they can’t find it within themselves to stop fuckin.

"Y/N get out!” Anaya splashes, water bouncing from her arch as Corey’s hips clap against her ass underwater. You laugh holding your knees so not to fall.

“Get it Nay! That’s how you get baby number 2!”

“GET OUT,” they both yell in unison.

Back in the house, Erik’s eyes are crinkled and he’s trying to contain himself like you but you’re both actually children and can’t stop giggling. In any case, the two seem to be alright now.

“Baby. I wanna finish this conversation.” You wait beside the sink looking at his eyes. “As you know, Anaya and I made a fake page and found some of the people who be spreading shit about me. Hate pages and they’re mostly mad because I’m with you.”

“I saw that shit. Sent them to Quentin and he said he traced the IP addresses of the two Twitter accounts we sent him, but something ain’t sit right with me.” He pours himself a bowl of Cap'n Crunch and leans against the counter to eat it, smacking loudly. “Who been watching us to know my schedule.. They said some bout me leaving the house and us barely being together. My tour schedule is public but other than that don’t nobody but you and my team really know where I be.”

“You think it’s somebody on your team doing this?”

“Nah, everybody on my team love you and glad you’re here to make me more manageable. They feel like they can snitch to you to keep me in line.”

That one makes you giggle.

“I think it could be someone on your team. Someone you hired.” He stares through you as he chews and you wait for him to finish his theory, on edge. It’s all got you paranoid especially when he sits the bowl down unfinished. “Gimme your phone.” He looks serious and confused, you hand it over.

“I’ll be back,” he says zipping up the stairs. Within minutes he’s back with shoes on fully dressed grabbing his keys. He kisses you on the cheek and you jog after him to the door.

“WHERE ARE YOU GOING?”

“TELL COREY DON’T NUT IN MY TUB,” he yells back as you watch him leave.

With nothing to do and no one to do it with you decide working on your music is the best use of your time and return to the home studio to work on track six of your album. Last you were there, you couldn’t get quite right. Erik could hear it and so could you.

Pursing your lips you slide back up to the computer, put your Drop headphones back on, and play it back. Then you add the rap from earlier and play it back wishing the team was still in the house to give some advise. Hell at this point you’d listen to Courtney, the new and improved nanny. 

Nanny…

NANNY.

Before another thought can cross your mind, you’re tossing your headphones back on the table and running down the stairs out to the hot tub where Anaya and Corey are in their underwear slow dancing to Marvin Gaye. Rushing in, you immediately start looking for their phones in their pile of clothes.

“Sis. Whatcha doin,” Corey asks still looking at Anaya but he can hear me ruffling through their things.

“Looking for a phone, Erik has mine.”

“Under y'all coffee table,” he says finally making eye contact to see your face twisted in mock disgust. “What.. don’t act like y'all niggas don’t fuck everywhere in this house.”

“It’s our house! That’s okay though y'all just roll in where we nutted at, it’s fine,” you wave dismissively.

“Y'all can soak in where we nutted at! Have fun cuh’ I skeeted all in this bih-”

“BYE COREY. Stupid ass,” I mumble so he hears. I don’t have time to play with him I need to call Erik.

“What bitch,” he answers and you almost fire off, feathers ruffled and taken aback until you remember you’re calling from Corey’s number.

“Babe..”

“Y/N,” his tone changes. “Sup baby, you okay?”

“Yeah I thought about what you said and the NANNY.. what if it was her? Not Courtney but the one I caught in my stuff.. Raven. She freaked me out.”

“I think you might be right, I got her info from your phone. I’m headed to her now.”

“You’re going to her apartment?”

“Yeah, trust me okay?”

“Okay but I’ve got a bone to pick with her, I would’ve went just so I could beat her ass one time.”

He snorts. “You’re staying out of it. As far as anyone knows, you aren’t the one who deals with this shit. You have an image to protect.. unless you wanna be painted as aggressive and reckless like me." 

"I don’t care.”

“Yes. You do.”

“And anyway you’re not as reckless as they paint it and when you are I like it,” you shrug resting your hand on your hip. “You’ve got character.. and so do I.”

“Okay well keep your character over there, you got enough drama on your name.”

Hanging up with him, you realize you can’t call the bitch either because her contact was in your phone, but that can’t be the end of it. It’s not that you don’t trust Erik, you just want your one hit in. Heading to the hot tub again, you catch Anaya and Corey as they’re coming back toward the kitchen.

“ANAYA.”

“YES? WHAT,” she asks wide-eyed like I’m blowing her high.

“You won’t believe this. I think that old nanny, the one who neglected my godson to play dressup in my closet, might be the one who leaked my number.”

Immediately she freezes in place. “You know you did contact her before it happened,” she points at me connecting dots in her head. “She was probably the type. No, definitely. It was her ass,” she nods swinging hands like she’s ready to fight.

Godson?… My son?” Corey looks interested now, chin angled down like it better be a lie.

“Anthony, nigga. I hired her to give Anaya a mental break and the trifling hoe did nothing all day but walk around my house and go through my stuff.”

“She ain’t even feed or change my son,” Anaya adds tapping Corey on his chest. He’s pissed all over again, his lip curled in disgust.

“Hell nah where she at,” he frowns.

“Erik went to find her and took my phone since he figured it out first. I don’t have her information.”

“Hell, I do.” Anaya jogged up the stairs and returned holding the sleeping Anthony and a slip of paper. “I wrote it down after what she did cause I was ready to find her ass myself but didn’t wanna do it here and drag you in it, you got enough problems. Sorry for unlocking your phone, but hmm,” she hums as Corey takes the slip scanning it.

“I’m glad you did it,” you assure glad to have the information now. Corey’s already gone and when he returns he’s got your car keys in hand, storming out the front door and you jog after him with your hand out. “Uh uh! Bring my keys back!” He looks at you like you’ve got to be kidding but when he comes back, you snatch the house key to lock up and toss them back to him. “Now we can go!” This time you don’t stop him as he jogs off. You, Anthony, and Anaya are right behind him. It’s the fastest Anaya has ever put Anthony in that carseat with him waking up only to look around and out the car windows, touch his shoes, and go back to sleep.

—–

Pulling up to the address you see Erik’s car and hop out the passenger side of your car as Corey leaves the car running for sake of the A/C. “Stay here with my son,” he orders to Anaya, slamming the door.

“Easy. On. My. Car,” you fuss rolling your eyes. The both of you jog ahead to the apartment building and there’s no elevator in sight. Without a second thought, he jogs up the stairs and you follow, walking up.

By the time you get there, your legs hurt but you make it to the apartment not sure of whose ass you can beat until your legs recover. You try the door and it’s unlocked so you walk in, stopping short before you turn the corner. When you peep around…  There standing with his arms folded is Erik in front of Corey who’s threatening to kill someone. Never have you ever seen Corey this angry to threaten to kill someone but he’s serious. Briefly you wonder why Erik’s standing there in front of him like that and not brawling then you peep a little further. There’s a gun pointed at them but you can’t see who’s holding it without exposing that you’re there and coming in further. It looks like it’s Raven’s arm.

“You better pray you don’t miss,” Corey laughs behind Erik as he moves to block Corey’s vital points.

“Say that to my face.. step around,” the girl’s voice taunts. “Scared?”

Corey is losing control and it finally hits you that Erik’s using himself as a shield because the girl won’t shoot him.

“COME ON,” she challenges. “I don’t want you here, I just want HIM,” she chuckles.

“Fuck that,” Erik retorts. “Never again.”

Again?? You almost walk in there but stop yourself. It had to be before you. Yeah, that has to be the case.

“If you strip for me… right… now,” she giggles, “I’ll let your friend go. Simple.  Whaddya say Erik? I promise. Baby, I promise.”

Oh hell nah.

“He ain’t doing shit bitch, shoot me. I dare you,” Corey jumps causing Erik to shift again.

You can’t leave and you don’t have a phone to tell Anaya to call 911. Besides, neither of you would respect calling 911 anyway it was already out of the question.

But you also know if the bitch is this crazy and Corey is this mad, she will shoot him dead and Erik can’t move because he knows she’ll shoot Corey. They’re stuck and she’s taking advantage. There’s only one thing left to do.

“BOO BITCH,” you yell running around the corner praying you don’t die tonight. You anticipate her firing her gun at you and slide as she shoots.. like a boss until she fires down. You try to dodge and get hit in the shoulder before Erik tackles her to the ground almost breaking her hand to seize the gun, snatching it.

“Corey, take Y/N and go,” he orders.

“Hell nah! I ain’t get shot to leave I’m in this,” you fuss.

“She said she ain’t leaving till this bitch dead,” Corey points to the woman who’s pinned to the ground.

“If it’s by your hand, I’ll accept it,” the woman on the ground laughs like a psycho.

“Harpo who this woman?” You stare at Erik’s head and he looks back at you briefly, sighing in irritation.

“You wanna talk about this now??”

“Did you put your dick in that bitch? When?”

“When we separated. It was one time.”

You gasp. “You was fuckin groupies while we were apart?!”

“Baby.. yes, okay. Damn.”

“So what was the difference between me and them? You were really fucking random bitches!!”

“You’re not special,” the woman he’s sitting on teases and you finally get a good look at her to realize it’s not Raven at all…

“Who is this bitch,” you squint looking down at her.

“SOME BITCH,” he yells.

“Psycho bitch,” Corey adds. “Slice her fuckin titties off yo.”

“Corey… Who’s this bitch,” you ask.

“Superfan. Stalker ass..”

“What?” Now you’re really confused.

“This was never about you. She was tryna get to me,” Erik reveals.

“Cuz you fucked her,” you blurt.

“YEAH. I FUCKED HER. ONE TIME.”

“What you expect,” Corey interjects. “I told your ass to go get him, how long you expect him to hold out. Two years? Cut him some slack. Man was going through it.”

“Don’t worry, I took care of him then, he’ll be okay if you walk out again,” the girl under Erik giggles pissing you off for the last time.

“Uh uh, Erik get up,” you command and initially he ignores you, but you tap his shoulder and gesture for him to stand up.

Groaning, he gestures to your injured shoulder but steps back and the woman chuckles standing up from the floor.

“I’m a beat your ass myself. Woman to woman,” you nod feeling her out to see how she’ll move. You haven’t been in many fights in your life, but win or lose this is one you feel like you need.

“You can try, ” she shrugs and you both move trying to find that in. She raises her hands like she’s finding a time to swing and you wait doing the same.

“Hit me bitch,” she laughs.

“I will,” you chuckle ready to boo her.

She jabs and you dodge but her follow-up hits you in the nose knocking you back and you can see Corey in the background balling his lips like a mother saying you better not lose.

She hits you again and you miss her when you swing giving her the chance to grab your injured shoulder. Yelling out in pain, you grab her and scuffle knocking her backward where gravity does the work. She hits her head on the floor and straddle her to return the hits she gave you to her face with interest until Erik pulls you off by your waist holding you back.

“Put me down, I’m a drown her in her own blood!”

“Chill bae, I called my bodyguards. They’ll handle her and her funky ass cousin. We need to leave though. Let’s just go home..”

You still, calming yourself and smoothing out your hair before scooting to kick her one time in the ribs, “For Anaya,” and once more “for Anthony. Now I’m done.”

Spinning on your heels and walking out, you head down the stairs where Corey and Erik come down right behind you.

@ljstraightnochaser

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Part 19: Colleague

Co-workers don’t typically try to knock down your front door or threaten to burn your house. Those are actions reserved for people with feelings attached. Erik has a lot of sexual partners, that’s nothing new. It only makes sense that someone else would find themselves attached to him.

Leaning in closer to hear the conversation, you step forward but the “co-worker” sighs crossing the room.

“Fine. Have fun,” she says listening silently before lowering the phone. If that was all they had to talk about, why had she been threatening him and his house? Why had he been avoiding her call? It doesn’t make sense. Something about their relationship ain’t right, and if she were actually a sub, why would Erik lie about something that stupid? He didn’t hide his other subs. In fact, he’d proudly paraded them. So it wouldn’t make sense now to lie about this one. She was definitely not in the count that he’d given you as far as his subs and he’d been thorough then.

Impossible. He can’t be secretly in love with her. Can he? No, he’d have answered her call.. He’d have given her a key.. Maybe. Never really know with him. What if she knows about me.. Maybe he told her.

Her face is aggravatingly neutral and it seems she’s done that on purpose.

“Where exactly do you work again,” you test.

Without making eye contact she holds the cell phone out to you and turns on her heel to glide quickly back to the staircase, speeding down with you hot on her heels.

“HEY,” you call grabbing her upper arm and she snatches away quickly before stepping into your personal space in a piercing threat, brown eyes locked on yours. You’ve seen eyes like that before.. on Erik. Knowing him, he’d definitely find a way to yell at you for getting your ass beat by a bitch you let in.

“…Who are you?”

“Oh girl,” she scoffs with a shake of her head. “We ain’t doing this tonight.”

“The hell we ain’t. You come barging in here like you pay the mortgage and then you can’t talk about for what purpose? Does Erik own your mouth, is that why you can’t speak? Why are all of y'all so damn troublesome,” you frown. “I’m just trying to mind my business and I always end up in the middle of some bullshit.”

Her eyes narrow briefly, her chest moving as she sighs, “..And why are you here?”

“I was invited unlike some people.”

“Riiight.” She rolls her eyes and heads toward the door with you behind her again, but this time you don’t touch her.

“Yes? No? You’re his sub right?”

“Fuck.. Me,” she mumbles to the sky turning yet again, glare steady. She obviously thinks these are stupid questions. “We work together. What part of work are you not understanding?”

“How long have you two been working together,” you ask knowing she hears the real question. Shaking her head, she turns back to the front door.

“What’s your name?”

She turns again, her exasperation now painfully clear.

“Sis, I’m a give you a word of advice that I give to all of Erik’s little pets. One.. Don’t get too attached. Get your nut and go.”

“But you threatened to burn down his house for ignoring you. Is that not too attached?”

“We are co-workers. He told you that. I told you that. One thing has nothing to do with the other. Two.. Don’t keep digging for shit you ain’t ready for or you might just find it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’ll go home if you’re smart,” she stares. “Doesn’t look to me that you are though.”

“Then maybe you need glasses because I can clearly see why he ignores you. You’re a bitch.”

Her eyes widen briefly as she’s taken aback. Turning, she walks to her car and you’ve yet to get answers. She pulls away slowly into the night as you watch her car disappear leaving you alone with the house again. As irritating as it was having her there, it did take your mind away from the uneasy feeling that was building in your gut. Looking around at the black open space outside, you close the door and head back to the couch deciding to sleep there where you can hear.

Disassembling the AS50 took less than three minutes so Erik had taken it upon himself to take a few of the weapons from the trailers as well as the ones in the clearing where the dead men laid in the brown hard dirt. After collecting them and binding them to make them easier to carry, his makeshift bandage needed to be changed. Also, he couldn’t lug all of the bodies realistically although he wanted to clean up his mess. He sat carefully on a fold-up chair in the clearing, ripping material from the shirt of one of the men and tying up his leg again. Damn he really missed Rell. Rell was his right hand and he’d never had to worry about this shit when Rell was around. He’d do the killing and Rell would make it all go away as if it never happened. No one would know and Erik would go right back to his house and try to sleep or live a normal life. As normal as he could. Swift was his left hand. She had the information, the technology, and she was a platinum level scammer.. but Rell.. man, Rell was special. Rell was like a brother.

A drop fell onto the dirt and for a moment Erik wondered if it was starting to rain before he realized it had come from him. His eyes were wet and though he wasn’t making any sound and his breathing was still normal.. he was somehow crying. He stared at the dirt as small round spots darkened, wet from his tears.

“What the fuck did I do,” he whispered in the silence, surrounded by dead bodies with no life outside of the small animals and the brown spider creeping on his hand. The scenario ran through his mind again. The set-up. The near death experience. Pulling the trigger on Rell as he sputtered to verbally defend himself. He ain’t deserve that. “Damn.” He cursed himself inwardly for being a no-good, selfish, and non-compromising, murdering asshole. “What the fuck did I do.” His hands began to shake and he threw down his gun bag before taking a deep breath and holding it as he mentally counted to ten while holding his nasal bridge. Then he released it slowly, inhaling again for another 10 seconds before releasing it. He had to get himself together and do it fairly quickly. Falling back on the breathing techniques he’d shown Y/N, he focused on the sound of his heartbeat and on keeping it calm and consistent. He couldn’t afford to let his mental resolve weaken. Afterall, he couldn’t go back in time and handle life differently, he had to build on what had already been done. Rell was dead. He’d murdered him. He’d murdered hundreds of people. He’d probably murder hundreds more before his own time came to be brutally murdered. It was inevitable, he couldn’t escape his hellish history and he was resigned to a very short future. Rell would get his justice someday and until that day, he’d have to handle the mess… but not today.

Shoving off the spider that had made its way to his shoulder, he sniffed and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. He’d learned enough from observing Rell to be adequate as a replacement. He couldn’t drag all of the bodies through the woods, but he could manipulate the scene, arrange them and make it look like an amateur did it. Then again, these guys wouldn’t have lost their lives to an amateur. Erik picked up his bag and looked around with a sigh before saying fuck it. The CIA wanted these mothafuckas dead anyway, he’d let them clean it up. That was one of the benefits of killing for a government agency. Not that he was still doing that (mainly because they like to act like they own a nigga).. but they’d cut him some slack.

Quickly he snapped pictures of the bodies and sent them to Swift, waiting for his money to hit and washing his hands of the situation. If it came down to it, Erik wouldn’t deny his involvement he’d just have a slew of new people to kill until the issue was forgotten. Nothing he hadn’t dealt with before.

Erik hobbled through the woods, bag in hand and weapon bundle on his back as he passed under branches and around rocks on the uncharted path. “Shit.. Shit.. fuck..,” he hissed as he picked up his leg repeatedly to walk as long as it took to the car. He wanted to kiss the hunk of metal on arrival, but slung his weapon bundle into the trunk and folded himself gingerly inside the driver’s seat with his bag in the passenger seat. He sighed starting the car. He had to get to get some shit to stitch himself up so he could stop bleeding and head to the airport before he was pulled over for driving a stolen vehicle. He’d drive as carefully as he could force himself to drive so not to arouse suspicion.

Upon snorting awake on the couch, you look around briefly to see where you are. It’s indeed the couch downstairs in Erik’s home and it’s a little drafty because of the A/C causing you to shiver and pull the blanket around you tightly. You need to charge your phone but the charger is upstairs.

It takes ten minutes for you to move, keeping the blanket wrapped around you as you ascend the graceful stairs to your room. In your bag is your charger along with laundry that needs to be washed from your trip. Getting it together, you decide to wash them in two separate loads before moving onto your bedsheets and pillow cases. It’s while that’s washing that you make yourself some tea. It’s not Trader Joe’s Red Refresh, but in the bare minimum it serves its purpose to wake you up.

After that, it only takes one more good look around for your lips to pout. It’s actually a very clean living space considering Erik is a man, but there’s still the basic maintenance like dust and baseboards. Your eyes go to the dust buildup on his game collection and console in particular. It’s a bothersome eyesore and you saw his cleaning supplies so why not? He’d do it for you… possibly… maybe.

Anyway, you don’t really mind. Cleaning is therapeutic and good for calming the mind. You decide to re-light his candle from last night while you’re at it.

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Pairing: Michael B Jordan x Actress!reader

Word count: 1k

Summary: You and Michael B Jordan do the GQ Couples Quiz..

Warnings: Nothing, it’s all fluff.

A/N: Hey everyone, I’ve been watching some couples quizzes like the GQ ones, and they inspired me to write this one and to find a boyfriend; I hope you guys like it .. BTW GIF IS NOT MINE.

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Originally posted by fandomnom

“Hey guys. It’s Y/N L/N, sitting here with the very handsome Michael B Jordan..” You started as Michael smirks at your little compliment. “And this is the GQ Couples Quiz.”

“Are you ready?” You asked as you turned to Michael.

“Let’s do it.”

“It’s gonna be a little hard though since we’ve only been dating for six months.” You smiled.

“Babe, I probably know you better than you know yourself at this point.” Michael said with a challenging look on his face.

“We’ll see.” You responded as you started shuffling the little cards -the producer gave you- before you read the first question.

Keep reading

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