#michael b jordan x reader

[starcrossedxwriter]

Wicked Fantasies Part 11.1 (MBJ x OC)

A/N: Ummm so welcome backkk! This is 11.1 because there's a second part to this chapter (I know... my self control keeps getting worse lolol) But I hope you enjoy!

TW: grief

“I’m never fucking drinking again,” Raven moaned to herself as she stumbled out of the comforts of bed. She felt like hell, if hell had a truck run over its head a few dozen times. 

Raven generally considered herself an early riser but nothing could pull her out of bed that morning after what was, objectively, the dumbest night of her life. Part of her wished she had had one or two more drinks so she could have officially transitioned into the ‘blackout drunk’ phase. So that she would, at least, be spared the embarrassing memories. But no, every horrible moment of the night from dancing wildly at the bar to Michael saving her was etched into the crevices of her brain with shocking clarity. 

Now, it was after noon and Raven still found herself wanting to be curled under her blanket asleep so she could escape her embarrassment. 

A knock at the door pulled her out of her wallowing self pity. She did not make an attempt to move, expecting Tiffany to answer. However, when the voice of their landlord rang out and her knocking persisted, she quickly slid on her robe to open the door. She decided Mrs. Winters would have to get over the fact that she looked like death reincarnated. 

“Rough night, dear?” 

Raven grimaced for a moment, she did indeed look as terrible as she felt. 

“Something like that,” Raven offered a tight smile, her body slumping against the door. “W-what can I do for you, Mrs. Winters?” 

“Oh I’m just letting everyone know that we had a pipe burst on the floor above. We’ll have folks in and out and you might hear some noise and stuff. But if you see any leaking into your unit, give me a ring?” 

“Of course. Will do. Thanks, have a good one,” Raven tried her best to politely shoo the woman away. However, she lingered. 

“Oh I meant to tell you, that boyfriend of yours is just such a good egg. So kind and polite. Admittedly I haven’t met many famous people,” she laughed. “But you just don’t expect them to have such good manners, you know?” 

Raven stopped. “My boyfriend?? Sorry… When was he here?” 

“He stopped by this morning. Gave me a check for your rent for the rest of your lease. Oh and asked where your mailbox was, said he wanted to drop something in it.” 

Raven was worried her jaw might come completely unhinged as the woman spoke. 

He did what?? 

“Are you alright, dear??” 

“Y-Yea, yea. Just… a bit of a surprise. Thank you.” 

And with that, Raven immediately closed the door, not listening to the elderly woman’s reply. 

“This nigga… I hate him,” she muttered to herself as she slumped against her door. 

Every cell in her body knew that was not true. But she also knew that everything she had told him last night was still accurate. She was too tired to forgive him and not just him… anyone ever again. The world has used up all of her second chances and she did not have it in her heart to be disappointed by him again. The narrative in her brain was so set in stone, she did not think anything he could say or do would make her believe anything else. She could not even make herself go retrieve the note that was apparently waiting for her in her mailbox. 

“Such a coward,” she grumbled as she flopped back into bed. 

She stared at her phone for several minutes, her text thread with Michael open. She wondered what she could even say? Thank you?

She knew any conversations demanding she pay him back or he rescind the money would be moot. Even if she had the mental fortitude to argue with him right now, she would still lose. But she could not just accept it without trying to push back. 

She typed and erased and typed and erased before lamely landing on: 

Raven: You can’t pay my entire rent. I can’t accept that. 

Raven: I don’t want that.

Michael: Yea you can. Told you… gonna show up every day tryin’ to fix us. You just gotta let me.

Raven: Money isn’t gonna fix this, Michael. 

Michael: I know. But it can fix the tangible things I fucked up for you

Michael: So let me fix that for you. 

Raven paused, as a warm sensation filled her, a warmth she had not felt in over a month now. The warmth of being cared for. She had never had someone take care of her without wanting something in return, except Michael. Even when their relationship was built on transactions, he still took care of her without needing or asking for something from her. The book deal, her rent were just the tangible examples of how he had stepped up to right the wrongs he could and she could not deny that those actions meant something, softened something inside her. 

He was doing exactly what he promised he would do the night before. He was fixing what could be, he was showing with his actions that she meant something to him. And yet, that blockade that stopped that belief from taking root was still there, still prohibiting her from believing these actions were anything more than a skilled manipulation. 

He would draw her back in, he would not change, and when he got ready, he would hurt her again. That’s what everyone in her life did. 

Raven: It doesn’t change anything

Michael: I know… didn’t expect it to.

She tossed her phone to the side and grabbed her pillow, screaming into it as her frustration got the better of her. The complex web of conflicting feelings with Michael B. Jordan trapped at its center only continued to grow. She wanted him to let her go, to stop caring and trying and going out of his way for her because that fit into the narrative nailed to the cross of her brain, it would confirm her beliefs and fears. 

But instead he continued to do the things that made her fall in love with him the first time, things that only reignited the dimmed but still existent flame that was her love for him. And she knew she would never get over him if she kept letting that happen, kept letting him in. 

So she did not even respond. Instead, she just closed the thread and tossed her phone to the side. 

“Let him go, Rae,” she demanded to herself. “You don’t deserve him and he doesn’t love you.” She repeated that a few times before it felt real again, before all that had started to soften was once again as solid as a block of ice. 

***

“You look like shit,” Alex moaned as she watched Michael’s makeup artist, Shanta, struggle to make him look less like a living zombie ahead of his Oprah interview. 

They were tucked away in a suite in Oprah's sprawling LA estate. It was difficult to make Michael feel poor but Oprah was certainly one of the few people in the world who could do so. 

“Thanks, appreciate that.” 

“You know I don’t believe in lying to you. Make sure you get those bags under his eyes,” she instructed. “Alright, this is it. Final stretch. Movie’s out and every review is stellar so far. Do this interview, it’ll air this week, Oscars on Sunday and then you can sleep. Though I bet it’s not the schedule keeping you up? Talked to her since the premiere?” 

Michael forced his body not to sag at the mention of Raven as to not disturb the hard work of the woman trying to make him look alive after days of no sleep.  

“She texted me about the rent thing the next morning. But it’s been radio silence ever since.” 

It had only been a few days since the fiasco after the premiere but Michael’s concern for Raven had not diminished one bit. He  could not let her go as she requested but he tried his hardest to respect her desire for space. His heart was stuck in the quicksand that was Raven and he had no desire to pull himself out. He wanted to be right there. He knew eventually he would have to accept defeat, accept that she had moved on. But he could not do it while she still questioned her own deservedness. She could hate him for the rest of his life, it would be her right. But his soul could not allow her to live thinking so lowly of herself. So if he had to pay 30 years of rent or call in favors to make her life easier and make her see that she deserved care and someone to sacrifice for her, he would do it. It was high time someone in her life put her above themselves. 

“Well, at least she talked to you. That’s something. You’re doing what she asked. Sis has lived a life, she needs time and space. Keep doing what you're doing. Except for the no sleep. For the love of God, by the Oscars, please get a good night’s rest. That’s your night.” 

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Alex…” 

She scoffed. “You’ve won the big four, Mike. It’s not just because I believe you deserve it… Statistically, Best Actor is yours. The Oscars is your night. Have a little faith in yourself.” 

“I hear you. I just don’t wann-” 

“Excuse me?” A young man poked his head in the door. “Apologies for interrupting. I’m a PA. Just wanted to let you know that we’re almost ready? I can take you out to the garden when you’re ready.” 

“Be right out. Thank you,” Alex called. 

Shanta did her last quick finishing touches before Alex gave him her customary once over. 

“Shanta, my girl, you’re a miracle worker per usual.” 

They both offered Shanta their thanks, Michael rolling his shoulders before heading out the door to walk out to the gardens. 

He had met and interviewed with Oprah once before so he was not particularly nervous. But despite having done millions of interviews, there was always a kernel of nerves right beforehand that he could just never shake. 

He was dressed in slacks and a light black sweater, thankful for a cooler day as he walked out into her expansive gardens where the Oprah Winfrey waited for him. The cameras were already rolling, capturing footage that may or may not make into the hour-long special. 

“The man of the hour!” she called, her arms stretched wide to wrap Michael in a hug. “Actually I think man of the year is more appropriate. Welcome. I can’t tell you how excited I am to have you here.” 

“Thank you, thank you. It’s so good to be here.”

“Have a seat,” she gestured at the very comfy chair across from hers. “And we can jump right in.” 

***

Raven’s head was propped against her fist as she stared at her computer. A sentence. That was the grand total of her hard work for that Wednesday afternoon. But it was something, she supposed. Weeks of hard work had amounted to maybe two or three pages of her book. She had been offering Angelina vague answers on her progress, ducking and dodging her to avoid admitting that there was no way in hell she could have a draft by March 15 like they talked about. 

“Rae? You busy?” 

She turned in her chair toward the door to find Tiffany’s head poking in. 

“Nope… I’ll never be busy again at this rate,” she grumbled. “What’s up?” 

“I just turned on the interview… if you want to watch?” 

Raven scratched her head, unsure if she could even watch him? See him happy and thriving without her? Despite everything happening between them though, she could not pretend there was not a part of her that still wanted to celebrate this moment in his career. Interviewing with Oprah the week he was poised to win his first Oscar? How could she ever forgive herself if she did not watch this? Even if it hurts? 

“I’ll… be there in a sec. Thanks, Tiff.” 

Raven let out a deep sigh before she grabbed the blanket off her bed and dragged herself to the living room. The interview had already started and he looked gorgeous. Tired, she could tell, in the way he constantly had to readjust his posture, in the bags under his eyes that the makeup artist could not quite fully cover. But even at his worst, he looked captivatingly good. 

Raven found herself studying him so intently that she did not even comprehend the words he and Oprah were sharing. She just watched him and his mannerisms, she focused on the glimmer in his eyes that sparked every so often. She missed looking into his eyes, missed how expressive they were.  

This moment only amplified how much she missed him, missed hearing the deep baritone in his voice and the spark in his eyes when he spoke about his passions. She missed his bright and uninhibited laughter, how his hands were always on her in some way. She just missed him. But she had pushed him away, had told him to let her go. And even if he had not fully let go of her yet, she felt too scared to open that door again, even if her soul ached for her to. Particularly when he continued to try to show up for her in small ways. 

And despite how angry she still wanted to be at him, she had never had anyone show up for her quite like this… try for her like he did. And everyday, her brain took up far more mental space than it should have, debating whether she should follow her foolish heart and forgive him or listen to her logical brain and cast him aside. Days passed and she still did not know the answer. 

“So I’ll admit,” Raven’s ears finally started to pick up the conversation between Oprah and Michael, “I watched Waves more times than appropriate. But Gayle and I saw it at Sundance and we both thought it was just the most heartbreaking and poignant look at loss and grief that we had ever seen. While still being engaging and funny and so relatable. The journey your character goes through is just… I mean I think grief is one of the few universal experiences that we all will have at some point. And you really brought that to life through this character and his struggles with addiction. And the fact that you filmed this while engaged in completely different projects with complex characters like Killmonger in Black Panther and Adonis in Creed 3… I’m curious what you pulled from to give that performance?” 

Michael shifted in his seat as he chuckled, Raven had missed how passionate he got about this project, even though he had been talking about it and doing press for it since they first started dating. She knew he had not truly expected the role to blow up in the ways it did but she could tell he was grateful for it, nonetheless. 

“Well first, thank you. Yea aside from Oscar Grant, Andre was the hardest character I’ve ever played and he stretched me as an actor in ways, you know, I didn’t really expect? And I learned so much from him in his sort of journey through grief. You know, when I read the first script, the line ‘grief is the final stage in love’s evolution,’ really stuck out to me. When you lose someone, grief, this enduring pain you feel, is that love shifting and changing because it has nowhere to go, there’s no outlet for it anymore. And so, Andre really reframed my own thoughts on grief and loss and how I process that and allowed me to pull from personal experiences with loss to pour into that character.” 

“Yea I will say, that line was one of my favorites. I sat with that long after the credits rolled.” 

“Yea same. I remember sitting a-and thinking about that one for a while after reading it. And I loved that even in the more comedic moments of this movie, we still had those lines that made you wanna stop and really sit with what the characters were going through.”  

“Definitely, I was dissecting this movie for weeks after. It’s just amazing. So I do want to shift gears to talk about this moment you're experiencing because of this movie. This really is the biggest moment of your career. You’re nominated for your first Oscar and a favorite to win, so far in 2023, you’ve won a SAG Award, Golden Globe, and BAFTA. And you, as of two days ago, just had your directorial debut in Creed 3. First question, how are you still awake?” Both of them shared a laugh. “But serious question, how has this moment felt? How does it feel to be having this moment at this stage of your career?” 

“Oh wow, when you list it like that, I don’t know how I’m awake either,” he chuckled. “But seriously, you know… it’s been a ride. I know you’ve felt this too but you know, you don’t often take a moment to just pause and soak it in. You finish one interview or award show and your mind automatically just jumps to the next one. And I think what I’ve been trying to force myself to do in the later weeks of this insane time is just to slow down and enjoy it. Not rush through it and really enjoy the fruits of… really years of hard work and sacrifice. But that also means sitting with… you know, the challenges of this time too, which isn’t as rewarding,” he admitted with a sad smile. “But I’m growing and learning alot so it’s worth it.” 

Oprah nodded. “You know I always appreciate when people don’t let the 24 hour news cycle and gossip sort of steal their thunder and moment from them. And I applaud you for sort of moving through the more gossipy side of the last few months with grace and maturity. But you haven’t really talked much publicly about those stories and the effect they have had on you. And you don’t have to get into it if you don’t want but I am curious on how you navigated that and really came out on the other side, from what I can see, stronger for it?”

Michael bowed his head and chuckled. “Um… you know a good friend of mine told me that she thought this was the most vulnerable and most genuine I had ever been publicly on this press tour and I think it’s because I’ve had to navigate some really personal stuff during this great but hectic public moment? And that’s new territory for me.” 

“And I think that friend is right. I don’t think we have seen or learned this much about you ever.” 

“Yea and I wish I could take some credit for it but… it was all one person: Raven Turner. And the way we met, now as the world knows, was extremely unconventional and I can admit that our relationship started as a complete lie. A lie I thought would help me be seen as this serious, mature man my team was worried I wasn’t. And I wasn’t,” he admitted. “I was cold and guarded and not at all the best version of myself. And while I regret how we started and trying to fool the world into thinking I’m something I’m not, there isn’t a bone in my body that regrets falling in love with her.” 

He leaned forward a bit as he spoke. “Because all those walls and barriers we build around ourselves to survive in this world of Hollywood? To endure the criticisms and insanity we deal with? She's the first woman to see me. Not the actor and the money and the fame but just me. And in that, she saved me… without trying or intending to. She just loved me and loving her, choosing her is the single greatest decision I ever made. And I hate how this moment has fallen on her, how my terrible decisions led to these pretty disgusting misogynistic attacks on her. And I think my biggest regret is putting someone as pure as her in the line of fire like that and not doing enough to protect her. And you know, I have to live with that, which is tough.” 

“You know I’ve interviewed thousands of people in my career and while I believe you have to change for yourself and on your own, I also have found that the ones who love us, really love us, are often the most powerful catalysts for change in our lives. I’ve certainly seen and experienced that in my own life and it’s important to spotlight those who were that catalyst.” 

“Oh 100%. Especially when, I think this version of me was always there? I was just too hurt to trust anyone with it, so no one saw it. I buried me under this facade I thought was better? But I fell in love with a woman who taught me that you can’t be guarded, you can’t shut down just because you’re hurt. Life is about getting up every day, being authentically you, and reaching out and loving and risking your heart every time. And sometimes you’ll get swatted away and sometimes you’ll get an embrace. But you just deny yourself love when you don’t show up at all. So I’ve been trying to live by that more lately. Because she showed me what real strength and courage looks like. And I want to have that, I want to lead with that.” 

“Wow… you know people are going to watch this and I think, applaud that vulnerability. It’s refreshing to me because I don’t think our world incentivizes or encourages people to admit when they aren’t being their best selves. So I think for you to do that, at a moment when you’re at the top of your game, is commendable.” 

“She deserves to know the positive effect she’s had on my life. To be celebrated for how she supported me. And you know it’s not just me? When we first started dating, I remember her one stipulation was that we couldn’t go out on Wednesday evenings because she hosted a book club for kids at the library she worked at. And that was the most important thing to her, being there for them. The day of our first date, she spent an hour delivering books and SAT prep books to those same kids she worked just because. There’s just a selflessness to her that is truly admirable. And I think while people are attacking her and calling her these vile names because she made a certain choice during a hard time, they should know who she really is. A woman that would drop everything to help you even when you don’t really deserve it. A woman who I’ve seen give others all she had because they needed it more even when she did not have a backup plan for herself. I could honestly talk about her for the rest of this interview because she deserves celebration far more than I ever could. Genuinely good people don’t always get the shine they deserve, they don’t always get the love and care they deserve because we can often take them for granted. But no one deserves to be celebrated more than her, to be celebrated loudly more than she does.” 

“I love that… she seems like quite the woman.” 

“She is… and I hope she knows that.” 

“So tell me about…” 

The words faded away as his words tumbled through Raven’s head. They clashed jarringly against every belief she had internalized about herself, like metal against metal. But she found herself wanting to believe him. Believe the words a section of the world just heard. She wanted to believe that what he saw in her, even over the course of six months, was who she truly was. Not this broken, damaged scapegoat life had fashioned her into. 

There has to be more than this, right? 

Tiffany nudged her with a box of tissues in her hand. Raven had not even realized she was crying but she accepted them gratefully. 

“Don’t know how I still have tears over this man left,” she whispered as she wiped her eyes. 

“I don’t think those tears are because of him, sis.” 

Raven sniffled and grabbed another tissue. “You m-might be onto something. I can’t watch anymore. Night, Tiffany.” 

However, before she reached her bedroom, she heard Tiffany call her name. 

“I know what he did… sucks. And hurts. But that’s a man who loves you, Rae. More than anything. After that? The only person in the world who still won’t believe it is you.”

She turned around to face her, the back of her hand wiping away a few more stray tears. “You know he said the same thing?” 

“Well, I generally don’t think actors are that smart,” Tiffany admitted with a laugh. “But he’s right about that. You deserve to believe good things about yourself, we all do.”

“Nothing good has ever lasted… I always ruin it somehow. I tried to believe I deserved him and life proved that I didn’t,” she answered, her voice small. “D-Don’t have it in me to try again.” 

“Raven… I know we aren’t best friends or anything. But how many times have I watched you forgiven your dad and sister? Let them back in, try to make things right with them? Try to build the family you want?” 

“Too many…” 

“Right… So why does Michael only get one shot when you found the strength to give them 100? When he’s the one actually showing up for you? He’s the one who actually is trying to earn another chance?”  

“It’s not that simple and you know it.” 

“I know that the only person denying you happiness right now… is you. You push away the good people and things in your life because you feel like you don’t deserve it but no one would be here if you didn’t. Michael, the kids in your book club… me. I don’t keep signing leases with you because you’re a terrible person who ruins everything, no one has a gun to our heads, Rae. We’re here because you do deserve it.” 

“Tiff…” 

“Nope, shut up. This pity party is getting old and tired. It doesn’t matter what I think of you… or what Michael thinks or anyone out there.” She gestured toward the window. “All that matters is the narrative you’ve created and until you decide to believe something else, all you’re going to do is push people away and fuck up and self sabotage because it’s all you think you deserve. You gotta wake up and do some fucking work, girl. Cause until you figure out how to erase this narrative from your brain, you’ll never be happy. And you’ll never fall in love with anyone except for someone who treats you like crap. You’ll never build your own family. You’ll never finish your book or have another fulfilling career. You’ll just be stuck in this broken version of yourself alone… forever. And I’ve seen a few different versions of you over the last two years but this is by far the most pitiful.”

Raven had never heard Tiffany be so blunt. The words were biting but she could not deny that some of them rang true in her ears. And that was always the hardest information to hear. 

“Damn… tell me how you really feel.” 

“The soft gentle love wasn’t resonating clearly so had to go with a different tactic…. Just think about it. And once you fix all this shit and move to a mansion in the hills, don’t forget about me.” She winked at her, causing Raven’s jaw to drop slightly. 

“How do you even know that’s gonna happen?” 

She shrugged and grabbed the remote to press play, Raven not even noticing that she paused it.

“Just got a good feeling about the two of you. Now go so I can lust after him in peace while he's still single. Kidding! Kinda..."

Raven let out a small laugh as she shook her head. "I know you're not kidding. Night, Tiff.” 

She slid into her bed, her only refuge of late, and stared at the ceiling. She was surprised she was not tired of looking at it by now. Michael and Tiffany’s words wrestled with her own thoughts for hours

What was her problem, really? It was not that what Michael did was unforgivable because it wasn’t. Some distant part of her, too quiet to break through the noise of her anger, always wondered if there was more to the story, believed that he had to have had some reason. But she was too angry to allow him to explain. It just became vicious ammunition that no one could ever love her or care about her… that she was the problem. 

Well, that’s true… no one’s ever loved you. And everyone who does leaves. 

She supposed her mother must have loved her, but she would never know. She would never feel it. And her grandmother’s love was so distant, so long ago, that it no longer felt tangible, was no longer a tether to anchor her self worth to something positive.

Instead, the only thing that tethered her sense of self worth to anything was her family’s disdain. Disdain that made her question what Michael could’ve seen in her, how he could ever love someone like her? That disdain which made it far easier to believe that what he did was proof that he did not love her than that he possibly did do it to protect her in some weird way. No other thought could live long enough in her brain to take hold. 

And she did not know if doing what Tiffany suggested would fix that. There was not enough time in the world for her muster the courage to interrogate and confront the source of these feelings. She had hoped she would never have to see her family again. Some days, never felt like too soon.

But she knew she could not avoid it. They were the root cause, the narrative in her head was fueled and sustained by them. And screaming at them across the Thanksgiving table and never speaking to them again was not the closure she needed. She thought she had dropped the weight that was her family when she cut them off. But she was still dragging all the luggage they gave her around and it was time to give it back. 

She knew her family did not want to see her either, knew it would be difficult to get them to even speak to her after everything. But she knew she had to try… because she knew there had to be more to life than this. That she had not been born to only suffer through life instead of live it. So she needed to confront her demons for herself, even if her relationship with them did not change one bit.  

She grabbed her computer and her wallet. It was time to go home.

***

Raven’s eyes remained trained on her dad’s house across the street as she sat in her rental car. She was almost shocked that none of her family’s nosy neighbors had not called the police yet as she sat there for nearly an hour, summoning the courage to actually go inside. 

She had felt so sure this was what she needed when she bought her plane ticket. And that confidence did not waver when she stepped onto the plane or during the long journey from LAX to Charlotte, NC. However, once she was in her rental car, she found herself waffling, aimlessly driving around for hours. Her brain seemed unable to direct her to the place she knew she needed to go. Home. 

She just could not make herself do it… not yet anyway. So she did not. Instead, she finally went to her hotel to try to get some rest and her night’s rest turned into the entire Friday holed up in her hotel. She had not booked a return ticket, prayerful and hopeful that there would be a reason to stick around for a few days. But that also meant she did not have the incentive of time to make her move faster. 

But she could not even make herself do this. Because she did not know how to be brave like this. Her life had been nothing but running from pain and confrontation. This was so contrary to that. She did not know how to do any of this. She tossed and turned all night, unable to get any sleep particularly when there was only one person who she wanted to talk to, wanted to seek courage and strength from. Because when she felt scared, when she did not feel strong, he was the only person she wanted to reach for. But she was not sure he would even answer. She had pushed him away, told him she needed space. 

But she had not felt like she could do this alone. So last night, she called him. 

“Rae! Everything ok?” he asked immediately, his question met with silence. 

Raven did not know what to say and regret filled her like ice water in her veins. But she knew it was too late to hang up, she had to see it through. She paid for that moment of weakness when she hit the call button as her throat closed at the sound of her voice. She found it impossible to speak, even if she knew what words to say.  

“I’ll wait until you’re ready, Rae. Got all night for you.” 

And she knew he was not just talking about waiting for her to speak. 

“Why?” she whispered, the simple word coming out in a strangled sound as she tried to push past the tightness in her throat. 

“Why what?” 

“Why even answer after everything I said to you? W-why do you keep trying?” 

“Because I love you,” he answered simply. “And you’re worth it. I’ll keep reaching out, baby girl. Even when you swat me away.” 

“You might be the only person who thinks that,” she whispered back as a tear fell. 

“I don’t think that’s true. But even if it was, knowing one person is in your corner is all you need sometimes.”

She laughed lightly. “That press tour got you only speaking in motivational boxing terms or something?” 

His deep laughter filled her ears and filled her soul with such joy that she had forgotten. She had forgotten what these moments felt like, the two of them on the phone or curled up together in bed, just talking. She missed it… she missed him. But she could not say it, could not bring herself to pull her body out of the water to make that long trek back up the cliff to where he waited for her. Everything in her brain screamed at her that she couldn’t do it, that she did not have it in her. And she hated herself for it. Hated how she clung to the ice barriers around her heart, even though they were utterly fractured and ready to fall. She just was not ready yet. 

She let out a shuddering breath as she hastily wiped away her falling tears. “I… don’t know why I called. I s-shouldn’t have called.”

“Call me anytime, Rae. I’ll always answer. I’ll always show up for you. I hope you know that… at least.” 

“Y-Yea… I think I do… or at least, it’s getting harder to deny it,” she revealed. “Your interview with Oprah… it was really good,” she offered lamely. 

“You watched??” she could hear the surprise in his voice. 

“Yea… I almost didn’t,” she admitted. “But I caught most of it. Did you mean it? Everything you said?” 

“Every single word.” There was no arguing with the definitive tone in his voice. “I get that you don’t trust me anymore. I lied and kept secrets. But one thing I never lied about is how much I love you.”  

Her eyes clenched shut for a moment. That was one thing he had always been consistent about, her ears had just been perpetually shut to it. 

“I… um… I gotta go. Early day tomorrow,” she lied as she sniffled. “I’m sorry for bothering you. Bye, Michael.” 

She was not sure what she had expected to get from that call and, at first, it felt as if she only got a firm kick in the heart for it. But for the first time since she landed, Raven had enough strength to finally drive to her family’s house. She had rolled her eyes at his boxing motivational quotes but hearing someone say they were in her corner, that had given her courage. To just feel like someone was behind her, even if she was alone, that meant something to her. 

She took a deep breath and got out of her car, forcing her legs to carry her to the front door. 

Her rounds of knocks went unanswered, Raven getting slightly frustrated but determined not to leave the porch. If she turned around and walked away, she’d never come back. 

After an extremely brief internal debate, she decided to simply let herself in, deciding that since she contributed to the mortgage, she had a right to come in as she pleased. And her father still, foolishly, kept a spare key underneath the welcome mat.

Though she had not been to her family’s home in two years or so, it still looked the same. Her father’s favorite work boots were thrown haphazardly at the door, several pairs of her sister’s shoes lined up next to them. She was an utter mess but she was, at least, somewhat neat. And it still felt… cold. And it had nothing to do with the cold winter east coast weather. The house had always felt like that, void of warmth and love that made a home a home. 

“Kiara?” she called out. “Dad?” However, she was met with utter silence. 

Part of her supposed she was thankful they were not home and that they had not just ignored her or something. She stood in the living room, staring around the room at the pictures that lined the walls and shelves. So many of her mom, her dad, and Kiara but there were none of her. That was not a surprise, it had always been that way. But that did not make it sting any less. All they had ever wanted was to erase her from their lives and if a stranger walked into this house, it would be as if she never existed.

She started up the stairs, her eyes refusing to linger long on any of the photos there. They were all lies anyway, a picture perfect family that did not exist because she had been born. She decided to ascend to the attic once she made it upstairs. Because that was where all her grandmother’s and some of her own things now lived. She had never really gone through her grandmother’s things after she passed, no one aside from her dad to pack them up. But she knew there was so much of their lives, so many memories she had forgotten of the one person who loved her, forgotten in those boxes that she now desperately needed to remember. 

She ignored how narrow the opening to the attic was, realizing that it had been easier to maneuver up here when she was a young teenager. Everything was still neatly packed away as if her grandmother would be back one day to pick it up. 

She started to open each box, pulling out and examining her grandmother’s things, so many beautiful things forgotten in this attic no one went into. For the first time in nearly two decades, she felt close to the only maternal figure she had ever had, felt like her grandmother’s hand was on her shoulder as she reminisced on their short but well-lived time together. 

She found the old costume jewelry her grandmother used to let her play with, laughing to herself as she thought back to dressing up in front of her vanity mirror pretending to be a model or whatever silly idea the pair had thought up. She almost cried as she found a very crumpled piece of paper with the last story she gave her grandmother to read before she died, a random short story that she had written for class. She had not realized, as she found a folder, just how many of her stories her grandmother had kept. 

A gold glint caught her attention, Raven reaching into a giant box to find a shoe box. Raven had seen that box 100 times but her grandmother had never let her touch it, claiming that it held priceless family heirlooms that she did not want Raven or Kiara to mess up. Raven rolled her eyes that something her grandmother had valued so much had been discarded and forgotten haphazardly at the bottom of this box. 

Finally giving into her childhood curiosity, she opened it. It was still filled with things, part of her thankful that Kiara had never found it. The jewelry and pieces in it were gorgeous and indeed priceless. She took her time as she examined each one, wondering if they had belonged to her mother or her grandmother or some other relative she never met. However, it was what existed underneath the jewelry that caught her eye: piles of tied up envelopes, one with her name on it and one with Kiara’s. 

The handwriting was not her grandmother’s, which made Raven even more curious. 

She pulled out the stack with her name on it and undid the thin ribbon that tied them together. There were ten letters there in total, each one with a different note scribbled on the envelope. 

To Raven on your 18th birthday 

To Raven on high school graduation 

To Raven after your first love 

To Raven after your first heartbreak

To Raven on college graduation 

To Raven on your wedding day 

She only had to flip through a few of them to realize who they were from. Her mom. 

“You’re killing me,” she muttered to the sky, unsure if she was speaking to God, her grandmother, her mother or all three. 

Her hands trembled slightly as she ripped open the one on top, addressed to her on her 18th birthday. These were some of the only words her mother would get to say to her, she did not care how long ago she should have read it. She would savor each one. 

To my sweet darling girl, 

If you are reading this, it means that I am not physically there with you on your birthday. It means that I’ve missed 18 birthdays and too many milestones to write a letter for and for that, I am sorry. You might be wondering why there is not a letter for all those milestones and birthdays that have taken place but this felt like the best place to start and the appropriate age for reading the musings of a dying woman. If there’s even such a thing.

We learned your gender today. Another sweet girl. If the doctor somehow got it wrong, these letters will be incredibly awkward. But I know they are right. Because you, my darling girl, are the manifestation of my wildest dreams. I dreamed of you almost a year ago, this beautiful girl with half my face but all of my spirit and personality. And every night since then, I prayed, begged God to make that dream a reality… no matter the cost. And he did. 

I know my body is not strong enough to be your mother, to be around to be the mother someone as brilliant as you will deserve. But I hope you know that deciding to have you and keep you, regardless of the risks, is the single greatest decision I ever made. You were not an accident or a misfortune given to me. You are my dreams. And if my last moments on this earth are spent looking at you, it will have been worth it. 

I waited until 18 to start these letters because I worried a child could never understand the choice I made. And you may still not. And if you resent me for leaving you before you could know me, I understand that too. But I hope that through these letters, you will get to know me. And you will feel some semblance of the immense love I have for you. 

I don’t have much advice because you’ve likely heard it all at this point. But the two most important things I can tell you, that I wish someone had told 18 year old me, is to know that failure is part of the journey. Your grandmother used to always tell me to keep reaching out your hand even if it doesn’t work. I didn’t really understand it soon enough but I hope you do. Life is about risks and if you don’t reach out your hand out of fear, you’ll protect yourself from pain but you will also miss out on the gifts God is trying to hand you. As a daughter, I hated to admit it, but mama was right about that… and so many other things. 

And finally, more importantly than anything else I could offer you in these letters, please remember every day that you are so, so loved. 

Know that regardless of what happened to me, I loved you with every fiber of my being until my last breath. Know that you were a gift from God. And every day you venture out into this world, know that you are worthy of so much because you were so loved from the moment you were dreamed up. Do not let anyone or whatever will happen to you in what I pray is a long, rich, happy life diminish that light, diminish your worth. I know how special you are and I don’t even know your name yet. And while I hope that your father and grandmother will affirm you daily, you don’t need other people to tell you that you are special. You have to know it for yourself. That’s the most important advice I can give you. Know who you are and your worth and take up as much space in this world as you want. And as long as you never forget how special you are… how deserving you are, you’ll move through this world shining bright. And the world will be forced to know it too and move to give you what you deserve. It’s not much and a bit cliche perhaps but I’ve been torn down enough to know that sometimes we all need the reminder. But those are stories for another letter. 

By the time I write my next letter, I promise I will have picked out a name for you. I read a book the other day where the main character was named Raven… I had not thought of it before but I like it. 

Happy Birthday. 

Love, 

Mom

The river of tears streaming down Raven’s face splashed against the slanted handwriting on the page, Raven quickly whisking them away so the words would remain legible. Raven did not even know how long she sat there staring at the words on the page, her heart bursting with the knowledge that her mother’s hand had touched this very paper, that she had poured her heart and soul into every word etched into it. 

It was like proof she had been real and not this entity Raven had conjured up in her head. Raven could not stop herself from ripping open all the ones that she should have gotten along the way. The one for her first love and the separate one on heartbreak were four pages each, and Raven did not pay attention to the clock as she absorbed each and every word. 

Everything she had learned about her mother had been through her grandmother and she had always wondered if her grandmother told her things just to make her feel better. But she realized that her grandmother had been telling the truth, she and her mother were so much alike. She found herself nodding and laughing along to her mother’s stories and wisdom embedded in all those pages. She was a prolific storyteller too and an amazing writer, another trait Raven realized she must have inherited from her.

For the first time in 30 years, Raven did not feel weighed down by this unbearable guilt. She felt lighter than she had ever been in her entire life. Perhaps this was what God wanted her to find here, not a confrontation with her family, but these words. This tangible proof that her mother had chosen her, wanted her… loved her and that she had not ruined anything at all. 

Her mother would not have wanted her to carry such guilt around for so long because there was nothing to be guilty about. 

The letters were scattered across the attic floor when she heard the faint sound of their garage opening. She quickly folded up all of her letters and stuffed them back into the box, tucking it under her arm as she climbed out of the attic. She did not make much noise as she closed up the attic, just as she heard her father and sister close the garage door and enter the kitchen. 

Their voices drifted up to her ears as she started to climb down the stairs, deciding that she might as well get the pure unpleasantness of this moment over with. 

“Wait… you hear that? Is someone in the house??” she heard her sister ask, knowing that they both could hear her footsteps against the old floorboards. 

“Don’t get your gun,” she called out as she started down the stairs. “It’s just me.” 

She was greeted with less-than-welcoming expressions from her family, such disdain that it made her want to scurry away. But she did not. She had done enough of that in her life.

“Adding breaking and entering to your criminal activity, now?” 

Raven scoffed as she placed the box on the kitchen counter that stood between her and her family. 

“Don’t think you can break into a house you helped pay for?” she answered coolly. “And I’m not the one with a mug shot here if I remember correctly.” 

“No you’re just the one who sold her cheap ass for a quick buck.” 

Raven shook her head, opening and closing her mouth for a few moments as she tried to find the words. 

“Yea I did… And I’m not proud of it,” Raven admitted. “But I won’t let you or anyone shame me for doing what I needed to do to survive. What helped the two of you survive too.” Raven scratched her head, realizing that trying to get closure from her family was unnecessary. Her mother’s words had given her all the closure she had ever needed. That’s what she had come home for. 

“You know, I got a plane ready to rip you both a new one for 30 years of abuse and torture. To try to force you to admit that I’m not the villain you made me to be. But… I don’t need that anymore. Because the cross of guilt and shame you two forced onto my back for all these years isn’t one I should have to carry. But I did because I thought it was the only way to keep you two around. And even without you two in my life, I still drag that cross around because I thought I deserved it. But I realized today, way too late, that I don’t need a damn thing from either of you to put it down.” 

“So you came here to what? To chastise us and steal?” her father asked, gesturing toward the box on the counter. 

“You can’t steal things that belong to you. These are letters mom wrote to me,” she lifted the open letters out before sliding the unopened pile to her sister. “And to you.” 

“Your mother wrote these?” he asked, his jaw tensing as he looked down at the stack. 

“Yeah, she did. You’ll enjoy yours… she was a really good storyteller,” she glanced at Kiara. “These letters just told me something I should’ve realized long before Thanksgiving. That cross? That guilt? It isn’t mine. And I am done wasting my life trying to rectify the mistake of being born. Because it wasn’t a mistake. She chose me… prayed for a second daughter knowing the cost and she decided it was worth it. And hearing her say that? That’s all I need to know that I deserve so much more than this… so much more than you.” She took a deep breath. “Being a grieving husband isn’t an excuse to be a terrible father and I’ll just be grateful I found some way to survive you and this. And jealousy doesn’t give you the right to be a shitty sister.” 

“What the fuck do I have to be jealous of??” 

“I always wondered that. But reading those letters… I finally got it. Because even as a failed author and prostitute, I’m everything she was. Grandma used to always say I had her personality… her talent. I always thought she was lying to make me feel better. But you knew she wasn’t and you could never stand it. Couldn’t stand that I was more like her than you.” For the first time, her sister was speechless. A good look on her in Raven’s opinion. “Mom wanted so much better for me than this and I’m gonna go and find it. Because I’ve wasted too much energy trying to earn the love of people who don’t deserve it. So if you want to go to your graves hating me, making me the scapegoat for every problem in your miserable lives, have at it. But know that I don’t hate you even after all this. I won’t be weighed down anymore by any feelings toward either of you ever again. You aren’t worth it.”

Raven pulled herself to full height and rolled her shoulder back as she scooped up the box and folder she had taken from her grandmother’s stuff. 

“Now I’m gonna go and have that long… rich and happy life mom wanted for me. And I hope you two do the same.” 

She did not look behind her as she walked away, a soft smile on her face as she walked out of her family’s house for the last time.

She let out a long laugh as she sat in her car, so much of the weight she had been carrying around gone. It did not feel sad like when she cut off her family at Thanksgiving. She finally felt as if she had cut the anchor away and she could float away, she could move forward and heal all the broken pieces of herself that they had gleefully chipped away at. 

When she got back to her hotel room, she just kept rereading her mom’s words. She would memorize each letter at this point. A part of her desperately wanted to open the other ones but she had not reached those milestones just yet so she left them where they were. For some reason, she worried her mother would disapprove of her breaking into them early. 

One line of five letters she read and reread stuck to her bones above all else. And of course, as if her mother had known, it was embedded in the letter for her first love. Love… the thing that had cracked her wide open and brought her to this moment in the first place.

You’d be surprised to know that this was the hardest of the letters to write. Because everyone has some prolific idea of what love is and feels like. And I realized I don’t… because I don’t think I’ve ever experienced the love I pray you are as you read this. That’s not to say I don’t love your father, I do. But I want something different than convenience for you. I hope that the love you feel is safe, allows you to feel the full spectrum of what it means to be human - strong and vulnerable, insecure and confident, boisterous and timid. I hope it feels like stepping out of the cold air and into a warm embrace. I hope it is loud and unapologetic because you deserve nothing less. And I hope it makes you feel so enraptured that everything else in the world goes quiet. And lastly, I hope, more than anything, that it feels like home. That when you’re in this person’s embrace, you feel as if your soul finally landed right where it is supposed to be. 

Her eyes scanned that passage over and over again, realizing that she had found the exact love her mother described. She had come back here thinking she was coming home. But this wasn’t home at all. Home was where he was. And he was back in LA, about to prepare for the biggest night of his life in 24 hours. And regardless of whatever trust needed to be rebuilt and conversations needed to be had, she could not allow herself to miss it. She could not allow herself to not show up for him.

Raven scrambled to find her phone as it was hidden beneath sheets of paper. She scrolled through, praying she had not deleted a long forgotten group thread that housed one number she had once thought she would never need but now was the most important phone number in the world. 

She almost shouted praises to God when she found it, clicking the call button on the unsaved number. She paced up and down beside her bed as every agonizing ring dragged on. 

“Didn’t think I’d see your name pop up on my phone ever again.” 

Raven let out a sigh of relief as her voice filled her ears. “I know… me either. But I need a favor.” 

“Does it involve a certain award show tomorrow night?” 

“Yes. Is it too late?” 

“Yea it is.” she knew Alex could hear the tiny sigh of sadness she let out. “For anyone but me. I’ve earned enough favors around here to create a miracle or two.”

“Really?? Cause I need like more than one or two miracles… a dress, hair, makeup… hell a flight from Charlotte to make it back in time. Without him knowing?”

“Consider all of it done. Hope you don’t mind getting up at the ass crack of dawn though.” Alex asked, Raven hearing the smile in her tone. 

“For him… I’ll get up anytime.” 

“Good. Then I'll take care of everything... I'll have to tell his mom but she'll love this. And probably be happy as hell that she doesn't have to go anymore. I'll text you details in an hour."

"An hour?? That's all you need??"

"You're new here so I'm gonna choose to not be offended by that."  

"Noted." She was about to hang up when she stopped herself. “Hey… Alex? Thank you.” 

“Don’t mention it. Seriously. Just make sure your ass is on that plane and in LAX tomorrow when Allen picks you up, got it?” 

Raven chuckled. “Yea I got it. See you tomorrow.”

Tag List: @readinghere2023 @blackerthings @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @physicxal @purplehairgawdess @miyuhpapayuh @rueruesclues @geemamii @certifiedlesbianbaddie @pipsqueak-98 @nyifly22 @destinio1 @twocentaur @gopaperless @musicisme333 @roguekiki @majesticbrownjawn @taurusqueen83 @mysteryuz @miamormilan @itsknor-thedeep @naj-ay444 @mads-grace4 @nayaesworld @kholdkill @msniaimani @nccu-rnc @apenasumlug4r @dezzy154

***

A/N: So now will y'all stop yelling at me LOLOL our good sis is going back to her man! We love to see it! How surprised do we think Michael's going to be? Part 11.2 will be the Oscars! Drop a comment and let me know what you thought! And as always, thanks for reading!

#black writers #michael b jordan #michael b jordan x oc #mbjordanedit #black panther #michael b jordan fanfic #michael b jordan x reader #creed 3 #adonis creed #creed iii

[yns-world]

lion & lioness

title: lion & lioness

pairing: erik killmonger x fem!reader

summary: erik takes the heart-shaped herb and sees his lost lover.

word count: 1k

warnings: reader death

a/n: i’m now taking requests for killmonger so feel free to send in your requests <3

As the new king of Wakanda, it is ritual for Erik to drink the essence of the heart-shaped herb and to speak with his ancestors. But as the searing power of the herb ran through his veins, he felt himself arriving at a place other than his childhood home. 

When he opened his eyes, Erik found himself at the edge of a lake, in a forest that he recognizes. The creatures of the night sang their songs-- crickets and insects chirped, the nocturnal birds trilled, and the wind lapped at the lake water. The night was full of life under the illuminating light of the full moon. 

Erik craned his head back to take in the sight of the moon. A soft breeze blew past Erik, and a scent caressed his nose-- a familiar scent. 

A moment later, Y/N materialized a few feet in front of him, wearing a sheer gown made of white silk. 

“My King.” Y/N beckoned, with a proud smile on her face. Erik’s eyes filled with a mix of love and heartbreak. He broke the distance and pounced on her, wrapping his arms around her in a bone-crushing embrace. 

His tears were seeping through her translucent gown, and Y/N ached at the sight of his pain. 

Y/N pulled back just enough to see his face. When she cupped his cheeks with her hands, he noticed that they were not cold, but they held the same warmth that they always did when she was still with him. This fact only made him cry more. 

“You’ve come so far, N’Jadaka. You’ve done it.” 

It was true, their whole lives were spent fighting for this one moment-- the moment where Erik was crowned king of Wakanda; where he was revered as the true Black Panther. 

But before he was the Black Panther, they were Lion & Lioness. Hearts and souls bound as one.  

“I need you by my side.” Desperation laced Erik’s voice, his eyes pleading with her.

“As long as the moon is out, I am with you.” She momentarily took her eyes off him to gaze up at the moon, and the moon reflected in her wide eyes. 

Erik’s expression shifted from one of despair to one of bitterness.

This was injustice-- his whole life was an act of injustice-- and Erik swore to avenge each and every action done to him, starting with burning the sacred garden of the heart-shaped herb.

Y/N knew that face, she knew exactly what it meant when Erik’s eyebrows furrowed and his usual scowl deepened.

“If you burn those flowers, you cut off our connection.” 

Immediately, Erik felt a moment of pain that he would feel if he did burn those flowers-- it was scorching pain, like someone took a rod of fire and ran it through his chest before dragging it down his torso and cutting him in half. But that was only the start of the pain, what came next was indescribably worse.

After the initial wave of hell, he was left hollow. He was an empty shell of a man.

He did not remember happiness. He could not recall love. 

He couldn’t even remember the original reason for why he became king in the first place. 

In that single, simulated moment, Erik was no longer himself. He was merely a ghost. 

The feeling washed over him as quickly as it came and he was brought back to the present-- his arms around Y/N as she stared into his eyes, experiencing every emotion with him. 

Erik was silent, but he knew better than to burn those flowers. He wouldn’t dare cut off a connection like theirs.

“Secondly, your heir…” Y/N’s words trailed off and she brought a hand to her stomach. Erik’s eyes followed her hand and was stunned. He gently kneeled in front of her, and placed his hand over her stomach. He pressed a kiss on the baby bump.

He then got back up, asking how many months she had left.

“Soon.” Y/N smiled a bit wider when she saw Erik’s impatient expression. 

Before he could get another word in, Y/N gave Erik a chaste kiss on his cheek.

“Good luck, N’Jadaka. Your story is only beginning.”

---

Erik’s body shot up, his chest heaving as he attempted to regulate his breathing. 

---

Months would pass since that night and there was a significant shift in Erik’s ruling. What was once a war-hungry dog, has now turned into a protector of his nation. 

But recently, something has been eating away at Erik. A gnawing feeling was twisting and churning every moment he was alone. He was restless at night and was suffering from insomnia. 

It was another night in a string of sleepless-nights, but this time he was called to the window. Erik looked up at the indigo sky, a full moon gazed back at him.

Tonight was one year since Y/N’s passing. 

Erik closed his eyes and bowed his head towards the moon. 

“Rest easy, my Queen.”

When he opened his eyes, he witnessed a shooting star race across the sky-- it flew across the moon and seemed to be inching closer and closer towards the castle.

Erik’s body acted before his brain could catch up and he bolted down to the castle entrance.

Outside the entrance sat a baby wrapped in white silk. Erik picked up the swaddled baby and recognized the texture of the cloth immediately-- it was the same cloth Y/N wore when he last saw her. 

Holding up the baby in the moonlight, Erik was able to see the striking resemblance to Y/N.

As he was admiring the baby, a name was whispered in his ear.

Leona. 

And that was what the heir to the Wakandan throne was called. 

Leona Stevens; Lion at heart; born of royal blood. 

The next day, the royal courts would rejoice at this news. The elders were not appalled by the appearance of this heir, they were rather fascinated that they have lived long enough to see this phenomenon happen in front of their very eyes. 

Kings come and go, but nothing could ever dispute Erik’s bloodright of being king since he has been gifted by the gods with an heir. 

Leona’s birth would be celebrated for the next week. She would be revered as the Snow Leopard, for her rare birth and the even rarer occurrence of having an heir blessed by Bast herself.

“Leona!” Wakanda chanted. “Daughter of King N’Jadaka and Queen Y/N; Princess Leona, the Snow Leopard!”

a/n: if you enjoyed reading, please consider reblogging and tipping, that supports me and my account more than likes :)

DON’T BE A GHOST READER!!!!! let me know your thoughts, opinions, ideas, etc in the comments!!! i love talking with y’all <3

i’m open to requests! free feel to request, just make sure to read my pinned post for request rules <3

#yns world #black panther #black panther wakanda forever #wakanda forever #black panther x reader #black panther fic #michael b jordan #michael jordan #michael b jordan x reader #michael jordan x reader #mbj #mbj x reader #erik stevens #erik killmonger #erik stevens x reader #erik kilmonger x reader #killmonger #killmonger x reader #killmonger fic #erik killmonger smut #killmonger smut #killmonger imagine

[henneseyhoe]

My Big Three As Boyfriends|

Trevante♡

You wanna have the perfect balance of a country boy and a city boy rolled into one? He’s the man for you!

His love feels like coming into a warm house after shoveling snow.

The first time you two ever kissed, my lady by Tyrese played in the background and since then ‘my lady’ with a brown heart has been your contact name.

He’ll sing any song you ask him to even though his ass can barely hold a tune in all seriousness.

Uncovering your ears, you start laughing. “Yes, sounds just like how Tyrese sung it” He smiles and takes a bow.

You try not to be the clingiest since he loves his space sometimes, but he definitely has his moments where he needs you near him like some kind of support teddy.

Hates when you all up on him when it’s time to sleep but always ends up damn near on top of you by the morning.

“Move, Bae, it’s hot” he groans. 8 hours later. “Tre…Trevante…baby, you crushin’ me!” You huff, trying to push his arm and leg off of you so you could go pee.

He’ll blame you as if your little ass can move him from one side of the bed to the other.

Expect booty slaps every time you walk by, and don’t let him be upset with you prior, cause it’ll be harder this time.

“Tight ass shorts” he’d say as you walked around the house as free as you wanted in the Nike shorts HE bought you.

Often play fighting and roughhousing until he accidentally hits you too hard and has to be soft with you for the rest of the day.

“Awwnnn, cmere, I didn’t think it was gonna land that hard” he holds you as you pout, rubbing your now sore arm. “That actually hurt, Tre. Like seriously 🥺”

He makes fun of the Erotic books you read, but you caught him peaking over your shoulder once and following along with one of your favorite stories.

“Don’t get too hype, I peeped something and the shit was interesting!”

Has a habit of putting his hand up your shirt when you two are cuddling.

He hates when you leave for work because he works mornings and you work nights. Sometimes on his day offs(though a bad idea) he’d stay up at night and bother you on the phone all throughout your work, dropping hints that you needed to come home on your snack break for a real meal.

-you’d brush him off and sneak off to the bathroom, sending him a titty pic to hold him off till you got home.

-‘oh wow. I just might take a trip instead actually’

-He’s definitely already taken trips up there a few times to get you right, as he should.

Michael♡

A REAL certified loverboy

If you told him to jump, he’d ask how high.

He would never admit it but he is CLINGY. He wants to be with you and all up under you as soon as those paparazzi cameras turn off.

Also certified double texter.

‘babe’ ‘Y/N’ ‘Y/N’ ‘Y/N’ ‘babe’

‘don’t act like you don’t see these texts’

‘WHAT boy’

‘I miss you’ ‘wyd my love’

‘working. Something you should be busy doin’

‘I finished already’

‘Fast reader you are. Here’s a gold star⭐️’

‘What can I say? You’re engaged to a smart man’

‘Engaged?’

Boo🩷 has unsent a message.

‘Forget you read that till further notice’

The man can’t hold water, as you can see. Which is why you don’t tell him anything that’s meant to be a secret.

He literally can’t sleep without your leg thrown over him some kind of way.

He remembers all the cute little shit you like year around so he already has a laid out plan of gifts for Birthdays, Valentines, and Christmas.

A good bit of his camera roll is just you and screenshots of things he wants to keep tabs of.

Can’t organize for shit and that’s exactly why his phone storage is about to explode

Begged you to organize his work stuff, so you agreed, until you saw NOTHING was put where it’s supposed to go.

“how do you work like this?!”

“I honestly don’t know…I- I do not know” he responds, staring at the unorganized files.

“Your assistant doesn’t take care of this stuff?”

“I don’t like to bother her like that”

“Nigga, she’s an assistant, she’s supposed to be bothered!”

Thursdays were self care days for you two. Wether you were just sitting around and watching a movie or doing actual things to improve the body, it was still self care to y’all.

Both of you are foodies, but he’s more adventurous, so he always tries to get you to try new foods when out together.

“would you ever try live squid?” He asks, looking through the menu the restaurant provided for them. “Uhh..I dunno. I don’t think I’d like it, but I’d probably try. Just have to ignore the memory of that story of that man who ate a live squid and it killed him and crawled back up his throat” he stares at you for a moment then looks back down at his menu. “Never mind then…”

Soooo protective of you and thinks you don’t stand up for yourself enough so he always makes sure you’re heard in any and all conversations.

Takes any chance to show you off. Was it cause he genuinely loved you or was it cause he liked showing niggas what they’ll never have? Both actually.

“Oh, and y’all know my girl, right? My beautiful, wonderful girlfriend” he grabs you by the hand, and kisses the top of it, pulling your attention away from your drink. You smile and look away, feeling extra appreciated.

Gentlemen in the streets, freak nasty in the sheets.

You ever came so hard that it took a few seconds for your vision to come back? Yeah.

Yahya♡

The dynamic between the both of you is just very unserious. He is truly your bestfriend who also happens to be your boyfriend

It’s hard to get anything done when the both of you are constantly cracking jokes back and forth, a con of having the same job.

“Yahya, please, my stomach hurts!” you spoke in between laughs, tears prickling the both of y’all’s eyes as you tried to make it through a SINGULAR business email. “How the fuck do you misspell so much shit on a business email?!” He howled, wiping tears from his face and slouching in his seat, you still crying.

He blames you for when he doesn’t get much work done, but he knows damn well it’s his fault for being the goofy mf he is.

When you two were just friends, your mutual friends would tease him by calling him “boy Y/N” because you both had so much in common.

He’s your reminder to eat like a normal person

“What’d you eat today?” Yahya questions, reading over his weekly to-do list. You glare at him then look back at your computer, not answering because you didn’t wanna hear his mouth about you forgetting to eat. Sighing, he gets up and heads into the kitchen to make you something quick.

At first the relationship felt like you two were still just friends, but you both grew into being a little more intimate with each other.

You both can’t help but create small(but healthy) competitions. You were both a little more competitive than you’d like to admit, but you both had competitions so often that basically everyone you guys hung out with knew of them.

“Damn” You sigh as you watched your paper ball miss the trash basket. “Hm” Yahya hums and gets up, picking the paper ball up. Instead of throwing it away right then, he went back to his seat that was a bit farther back and took a shot, the paper effortlessly making it in the basket. You look back at him with a squint and he smirks. “Okay, bet” you whisper.

Ten minutes had gone by and you both were throwing balled up paper that you needed in the trash. To make what point? Neither of you knew, but you both were entertained.

Theres a box in his closet with Polaroid pictures of you two throughout the five years of dating each other, most taken by Yahya himself because in his words, “I just love looking at you. Pictures don’t even capture all that I see, but damn, baby”

The man could easily make you melt like some chocolate. He was just as smooth as he was when you first met him.

Once you both got more into the relationship, he was honestly the most romantic and caring person ever. He’d do anything to make you feel those butterflies.

Sent you on a corny little riddle game for Valentine’s Day once which lead you to some of your favorite places around the city until the last clue brought you home to three bouquets of your favorite flowers and a ring the size of your brown eyes.

Alexa, play whatever you want by Tony! Toni! Toné!

Some niggas don’t trick, but Yahya? Oh he’s gonna step. In the end, if you’re happy, he’s happy.

The night ended with something else a little more eventful that had the neighbors thinking to call the cops for the third time that month.

He plans on staying with you for the rest of his life, and made that know.

And he’s determined to put a baby in you one of these days, with or without that damn ring.

✮✮✮✮

Looks and bias aside, who would y’all pick as a boyfriend? 🫣 I think I’d pick Yahya 😭

#black fanfic writer #black fanfiction #black!reader #masterlist #black actors #black reader #black!fem!reader #black!oc #smut masterlist #trevante rhodes #trevante rhodes x reader #michael b jordan #michael b jordan x reader #yahya abdul mateen ii #yahya abdul mateen ii x reader #blurb #henneseyhoe

[nareyacute101]

I Can Give You A Ride

this imagine is inspired by my fav movie from a24 “X” so I hope y’all enjoy!

Erik Killmonger x Black Farmers Daughter! Reader

You were just minding your business on a beautiful Saturday afternoon making some lemonade since you were very thirsty. As you were about to pour you a glass, you hear the the doorbell ring. “Daddy isn’t expecting anyone over” you said while walking to the door.

You open the door to see this fine chocolate man with some blue jeans on with a red and black plaided shirt and some timberland boots.

“Hello ma’am, my name is Erik and my car ran out of gas, so I was wondering if I could use your phone to call someone to help?” The stranger who goes by the name Erik said to you from outside the door. “Oh my goodness, well Mr. Erik I’m not sure if there’s any mechanic shops around her but my daddy is a mechanic and he could try to fix your car” You said while biting your lip innocently but sexy. “Okay, will he be able to fix it right now before dark?”

You thought for a second before smirking with an idea to keep him here “My daddy is out of town right now to do something supposedly “important” but…I could give you a ride.”

“Okay thank you so much, so where’s your car?” Erik asked your concerned. “Oh, I don’t mean that kind of ride sir.” You said pulling him in the door and touching his chest. “So, what kind of ride are you talkin-” he cut himself off know what she was talking about “Ohh, yeah I would definitely love that ride, ma” he mocked the same smirk you had on your face. “Well, let’s go to my room so I can help you out” you walked him up the stairs to your room, feeling his gaze on your ass.”

“FUCKKK!” You yelled while bouncing up and down on Erik’s dick. “Yeah, you like this dick huh Princess?” He asked while looking at you and your bouncing tits. You nodded to his question “No baby, I need words” he smacked your ass and you squealed “Yes, omg your dick is so big” you leaned your head back from the pleasure that you were getting from his long, curvy dick.

“Fuck, I can’t leave from this tight wet pussy” Erik said while getting ready to hold you and thrust up really fast. “FUCKFUCKFUCK” you screamed from the sudden thrusts up your pussy. “What’s my name babygirl?” “DADDYYYY! OMG IM GONNA CUM” “Me too baby, now who’s pussy is this?” Erik kept going to meet his and your climax “This your pussy daddy, please make me cum!” Erik thrusted three more time before you both grunted after reaching your climax.

“So, was that the best ride you’ve ever had Daddy?” You asked in a sweet voice “Hell yeah princess. Now, when is your dad coming home?”

You shrugged your shoulders “I don’t know but maybe in a few minutes, why?” You asked him. “Well one, I wanna try to get home before dark and two maybe we can do another round before he gets home” he licked his soft plump lips while looking at you up and down.

“Lets do it Daddy” you smiled while being rolled over by Erik and having a heated make out session.

I’m sorry y’all had to read thee worse sex scene ever but I tried okay 😭

#farmer!reader #farmers daughter #killmonger x reader #erik stevens imagine #erik x oc #erik killmonger imagine #michael b jordan x reader #michael b jordan #black fanfic writer #erik x reader #erik killmonger smut #michael b jordan smut #black panther imagine #x a24

[fanficbarbie]

all-american bitch ★ faceclaims

Liberty Washington

Ryan Destiny

Agent Jordan

Michael B. Jordan (himself: secret service au)

Ellis Washington

Marsai Martin

Agent Idris

Damson Idris (himself: secret service au)

Hudson Washington

Caleb McLaughlin

Agent Flynn

Rome Flynn (himself: secret service au)

#michael b jordan fic #michael b jordan smut #michael b jordan fanfic #michael b jordan fc #michael b jordan #michael b jordan x reader #mbj fluff #mbj smut #mbj fic #mbj x reader #mbj fanfic #black writers #x black reader #black fanfic writer #black!reader #black fanfic #black reader #x black oc #x black fem reader #black fem reader #x female y/n #x female reader #fem oc #x fem!reader #x oc #x reader #fem reader #reader insert #female reader #rome flynn x black reader

[noirsfantasy]

On the first day of Christmas...

𝔄 𝔇𝔢𝔠𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯 𝔗𝔬 ℜ𝔢𝔪𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 ➛ Actor!Michael B Jordan x OC!Naomi Samuels

𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 ➛ Fluff

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱 ➛ 4.2K

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰 ➛ Returning home for the holidays, 29-year-old successful artist Naomi Samuels from New York finds her trip taking an unexpected turn. Things take an exciting twist when her brother Daniel arrives, accompanied by none other than the renowned actor Michael B. Jordan. As the next few days unfold with this unexpected guest, Naomi's holiday promises to be anything but ordinary. What adventures await in this unexpected reunion?

𝔞/𝔫 ➛ I'm gonna be honest, this story has me really excited. When I tell you I love Christmas, it's real. I want y'all to know that I fully intended this story to sound a bit hallmarky, so please bare with me. It gets good ;)

12 Days of Christmas Masterlist

Part 2 Here

The Samuels family's Christmas is always a hit. Family comes from all over down to the small town of Leavenworth, Washington just to gather together for this holiday. This is where my grandmother and mother lives, keeping the roots strong. Although, we haven't really had a big family Christmas since before COVID hit, so this one is bound to be special.

Just a week ago, I completed a project for a high-paying client, affording me the luxury of having the entire week before Christmas off. Usually, I am booked up to my ears at this time, so I am grateful for the vacation. I got to the house late last night, and so far, only a handful of aunts, uncles, and a few younger cousins had arrived. As the sole young adult present, I find myself shouldering the full force of our family's 'charm'.

I wake up early this morning in my old bedroom, starting my day with a warm shower. Once I'm dressed and freshened up, I head downstairs, hearing some chatter. I greet my grandmother, who is on the couch, watching her shows. She is always excited to see me.

"Good morning, Grandmother." I say with joy as I give her a warm hug.

"Oh, my beautiful Mimi." She calls my childhood nickname, her hand reaching out to cup my cheek with a gentle tremor. "You are turning into such a beautiful and remarkable woman. I can't tell you how proud of you I am." Her eyes reflect pure love, and I can't help but return her smile. The connection between my grandmother and me is unique, given that I am her first granddaughter.

"Thank you, Grandmother. I'm so happy that I could get to come see you. I know I haven't been around as much since I moved to New York for work," I admit, a twinge of guilt behind my words.

"Don't you worry about that, dear. You're here now, and every moment with my grandbaby is a blessing," she reassures me warmly. "I think your mom and aunts are in the kitchen preparing breakfast. Why don't you go in and see how you can help?" She suggests.

With a nod, I rise from the couch, placing a tender kiss on her cheek before making my way into the kitchen. As I enter, the lively banter of my mom and aunts fills the air, mid-gossip in the midst of breakfast preparations. I'm embraced by the scent of bacon and brewing of coffee. The women pause their gossip for a moment, shifting their attention to me.

"Well, look who decided to get up bright and early!" My mom exclaims, giving me a quick embrace. "Here, you take over the bacon for me. I need to get started on the pancakes," she adds, directing me to her spot at the stove. My aunts greet me with a cheerful "good morning" before seamlessly resuming their conversation with my mother.

The kitchen was bustling with activity, filled with the savory aroma of the many dishes being cooked. The Auntie's hands are kept busy as they catch up on the latest gossip and I snicker to myself as I focus on my task. The house starts to wake up as I hear my little cousins stomping down the stairs, their childish giggles over the chatter of the rest of the family.

I'm lost in my thoughts when my attention is abruptly diverted by an unexpected question from Aunt Pat, who's currently cooking the eggs.

"So, Naomi, you got a man yet?" The other ladies in the kitchen fix their gaze on me, awaiting my response. I stammer for a moment but then decide to keep it light.

“Well, no. I’m not really focused on that right now,” I reply with a shrug, hoping they’ll drop The subject. They don’t, of course.

“Come on now. You not getting any younger.” Adds my aunt Tina. My mom gives them a disapproving look as she closes the fridge.

“Y’all, leave my baby alone. It is too early for this.” Mom defends, but they roll their eyes.

“We’re just chatting, Angie. Besides, don’t you want some grandbabies?” Tina asks, Aunt Pat nodding in agreement.

"Naomi can wait for the right man as long as she needs. Better that than popping out babies without a ring," my mom subtly throws shade, her lips pursed. Aunt Pat raises an eyebrow.

“You tryna say sumn, Ang? Cus' whoever I think you're talking about has definitely gotten married since.” She says matter of factly. My mom ignores her.

"And Tina, don't start on Mimi, what about Ashanti? She still don't got a man either. And she 'bout the same age as Naomi." My mom adds.

"My Ashanti is a famous and successful model. She is busy building her life right now and taking care of her business. Besides, she's seeing someone," Aunt Tina states, turning her nose up. Sensing that my mom is about to say something else, I decide to intervene.

"Let's all calm down. I don't have a man, so what? It's not the end of the world. And, for the record, I have a successful career as well," I declare, raising my hands in defense. Aunt Tina's comment lingers in the air like a passing storm, briefly unsettling the familial calm.

"Just saying, you're almost thirty. Time to settle down. And I'd hardly call those cute little drawings you do a successful career," she persists, earning a disapproving look from my mother. I clench my jaw, determined not to let the remark sting.

"But we'll drop it," Aunt Tina announces, attempting to change the subject. The kitchen regains its lively atmosphere as they return to their culinary duties. My mother shoots me an apologetic glance, understanding the delicate nature of the topic, but I reassure her with a soft smile. I've grown accustomed to my family's concerns about my love life, even if their ideas of success differ from mine.

"Where is Teresa, anyways? And James? I saw the kids last night, but I haven't seen them." I ask, looking at my Aunt Pat.

"Oh, they're upstairs sleep. They really got a handful with them kids." She explains, shaking her head. I laugh a bit.

"Well, it seems like I'm not the only one who needed this vacation. Hopefully we will all get to relax." I let out a sigh.

"Well, don't you worry, none. Ashanti will be here any moment! I know y'all always have a good time together." Aunt Tina says. I look at her out of the side of my eyes and give a fake smile.

"Oh, I'm sure we'll have lots of fun." I respond, trying to hide the sarcasm in my voice. As they chop, stir, and laugh, I find myself wondering what's to come of this trip. My thoughts go back to what my aunts said about my love life.

Even though I'm almost thirty, I've never been one to go searching for a man, much less settle for less than I deserve. My art, my "cute little drawings," as Aunt Tina put it, is not just a hobby—it's my passion. And while it may not fit the conventional definition of success in their eyes, it brings me fulfillment and joy. And I want that when it comes to love as well.

As I plate the last pieces of bacon and turn away from the stove, my phone rings. It’s my brother Daniel.

“Hey Danny.” I greet as I walk out the kitchen.

“Naomi! You already at mamas?” He asks me.

"Yeah, flew in last night. We're about to have breakfast," I reply.

"Bet, well, I'm on my way there, about nine hours out. Been on the road for a while. Just calling to let you know I'm bringing a guest." My interest piques, and I raise my eyebrows.

“Oh? Is it a girl?” I tease. I can almost feel him rolling his eyes at me.

“No, it’s not. It’s one of my colleagues who needs a place to be for Christmas, so I offered to let him come.” Daniel explains.

“Oh, okay. Just a heads up, the aunties are already in my business so make sure you got your shit together.” I share a laugh with him and, over the sounds of the road in the background, I can barely make out a second laugh. I choose to ignore it.

“Who knows, maybe my guest can help you get your shit together if you, uh, catch my drift.” He teases. I roll my eyes in return and give a sarcastic laugh.

“This is not about to be you tryna hook me up with one of your friends again. We both know how that ended up last time.”

“I know, I know. Don’t worry, it’ll be none of that, I promise. But don’t tell anyone I’m bringing someone. I want it to be a surprise.” He tells me.

"Sure, secret's safe with me," I respond, curious as to who he could be bringing.

"Alright, I'll catch you when I get home. Hopefully, everyone will still be up." He chuckles and I laugh along as well.

"Yeah, we'll see. Drive safe. See you when you get here." I say, before ending the call. As I hang up with Daniel, I can't help but wonder about the mysterious guest he's bringing. Returning to the kitchen, I start setting up the table as the delightful aroma of breakfast fills the air. Yet, my thoughts persistently drift back to the impending surprise.

A rhythmic knock echoes through the house coming from the front door, which promptly swings open.

"I'm hereeeee!" All of us in the kitchen pause to glance toward the entrance as my cousin, Ashanti, strides in. Draped in a fur coat and chic heeled boots, she's come with numerous bags.

Smiles light up the room, and everyone rushes to welcome her with hearty hugs. I hug her as well, but it's a bit stiff. Shanti and I grew up together and we used to be very close. But somewhere along the line, she started competing with me and it put a rift between us.

Amidst the flurry of greetings, I catch a glimpse of Ashanti's perfectly styled hair and the air of confidence she exudes. Despite the awkwardness between us, I manage a genuine smile, hoping that the holiday spirit will bridge the gap that has quietly settled over the years.

As the family gathers around, Ashanti unveils a cascade of presents from her bags. "Gifts for everyone!" she announces, and the room erupts with excitement. The children eagerly approach, but she urges them to wait their turn. The tension between us momentarily fades as the joy of the holiday season takes center stage. The gifts she gives are lavish and luxurious. As everyone gets their gifts, she saves the last one for me.

"And last, but certainly not least, this is for you, Naomi." Ashanti hands me a neatly wrapped gift. I smile and open it, eager to see what is inside. While I had no specific expectations, what I got is far from what I had expected. As I tear away the paper, I find myself holding what appears to be a Dollar Tree sketchbook, lacking the quality I might have hoped for.

"Oh, a sketchbook..." I attempt to conceal my disappointment, realizing she intentionally chose a less-than-impressive gift.

"No need for thanks! I just knew you'd love it. You know, with your little artsy thing you got going on. I figured it would be a perfect gift," she says, offering a feigned smile and a hug. Despite having plenty of similar sketchbooks, I decide not to grant her any satisfaction, accepting the gift graciously.

The room is still buzzing with the cheer of the holiday festivities, and as I hold the seemingly ordinary sketchbook, I take a deep breath, reminding myself that the value lies in the gesture rather than the material itself.

I manage a polite smile, masking any traces of disappointment, and reply, "Thank you, Ashanti. It's thoughtful." She beams, seemingly content with her choice of gift, and the tension between us lingers beneath the surface.

The following hours whirl by in a flurry of activity. I spend most of the day hanging out with my younger cousins, keeping them occupied while everyone else relaxes. It's a great feeling to be home and around my family once again, no matter how old I get.

There are a couple gifts beneath the tree and the fireplace blazes brightly. Grandmother, nestled in her recliner by the fireplace, skillfully crochets a blanket and my uncles huddle around the TV to watch a football game. Mom has just set out hot chocolate for the kids, while the aunties are talking with each other in the study. Ashanti is upstairs, probably on her phone or something. Meanwhile, I find myself on the couch, sketch pad in hand, allowing my creativity to flow.

The sun has dipped below the horizon and a flurry of snow blankets the world outside. I glance toward the window, crossing my fingers that the roads won't freeze over and that Daniel and his mystery guest will arrive soon. The children steal the TV, watching some cartoons while a few of my uncles head onto the porch for a smoke. This calm is one I've longed for over the years—it gives me a sense of nostalgia, sending me back to the carefree days of my childhood.

My cousin, Teresa, who was asleep all day, comes downstairs and sits beside me. I smile as I look up from my sketches at her.

"Hey, cuz!" She says, giving me a hug.

"Hey, you slept good?" I ask, giggling a bit.

"Girl, yes, it was MUCH needed. You really don't understand how much you miss naps until you have children." She sighs heavily and I nod sympathetically.

"Yeah, I figured when I saw James come down here and not you, you were still getting your rest." I say teasingly. Teresa rolls her eyes.

"Hey, those beds are comfortable." She retorts, defending herself.

"Well, at least now you get a break, right? You got some help." Teresa sits back and nods.

"I'm so glad to just be here. It's been a while since we were able to take a trip like this."

"Something tells me that this trip is gonna be one to remember." I say, mostly to myself.

"Well, I guess we'll just have to wait and see." Teresa says, before standing up and heading to the kitchen.

As time goes by, I hear the doorbell ring again. I remain seated, engrossed in my drawing. Mom answers and her sudden loud exclamation echoes through the house as she lets the visitors in. Intrigued, I look up from my sketches, wondering who it could be. I get up and walk over to the door, first seeing my big brother standing there. He's smiling widely as he sees the shocked look on Mom's face. However, as I approach, I see who she's really screaming about.

There, standing beside Daniel on the doorstep is none other than famous actor Michael B. Jordan. My jaw drops in astonishment as I can't believe my eyes.

"Danny, what is this? You didn't tell me you were bringing a guest!" She exclaims, the unspoken emphasis being, 'You didn't tell me that you were bringing Michael B. Jordan!'

"Just thought I'd surprise you, Ma. And Michael, here, didn't have anywhere to stay for Christmas. So I invited him to stay with us for the week. Is that alright?" He asks, sporting a sheepish grin. My mother stammers for a moment, caught off guard by this surprise. She glances at Michael, who presents her a giftwrapped bottle of expensive-looking wine, flashing that gorgeous smile of his. Still in shock, she stammers as he hands her the gift.

"Merry Christmas, Mrs. Samuels. I hope I'm not intruding too much." He gives her a hug, giving her a squeeze. My mother, still processing the surprise, hugs him back, her eyes gleaming with disbelief.

"Oh, you're not intruding at all! Well, welcome to our home, Michael!" She starts as he lets go of her and stands in the doorway. "We're honored to have you join us for Christmas."

"The honor is all mine." He responds. By now, news of Michael's arrival has spread through the house. Danny brings him in, brushing snow off of himself, and I catch his eye. He winks at me knowingly as our family rushes to greet Michael and take pictures. I smile and shake my head at Daniel. It seems his "colleague" was quite the understatement. My little cousins jump excitedly at meeting the man who played Killmonger and my aunties and uncles are chatting to him loudly, talking over one another.

I watch all the commotion with a smile, when I lock eyes with Michael. He looks as if he is gonna approach me, but he's stopped by Ashanti.

"Hi, my name is Ashanti! You look like you need a drink." She says, before grabbing his arm and leading him away from the lively group. I suppress a sigh of awkward disappointment as she shoots me a mischievous glance over her shoulder. Just then, Daniel drapes an arm around my shoulder, steering me toward the study for a chat.

"Daniel!" I exclaim in a hushed tone as a cheeky grin plays on his face. He simply shrugs, not making a response. "Daniel!" I repeat, this time playfully socking him in the arm with an excited smile on my face.

"Surprise?" He offers, having anticipated my reaction.

"How the hell did you manage to get Michael Bakari Jordan to come to the Samuels household?!" I try to contain my excitement, but my words come out with an unintentional squeal. He laughs, feigning pain as he clutches his arm.

"It's like I said. He didn't have anywhere to be for Christmas. I didn't tell y'all, but this last project I was working on was with Michael and it was set to go into the Christmas holiday. Luckily, we ended up finishing early. Michael had tried to plan ahead and sent is parents and siblings on a Christmas cruise so they'd still have a good time. Well, during the project, Michael and I talked frequently and he mentioned not having anywhere to go, so I invited him to come here." He explains. I'm still in disbelief.

"This is insane. I never expected you to actually bring him. And he's staying until Christmas?"

"Yep, so he gets the full Samuels family experience for the holidays. But, you should go out and meet him yourself, Mimi. Knowing Ashanti, she's probably talking his ear off by now." He pats my shoulder, and I take a deep breath before stepping out of the study.

My heart is racing in my chest as I walk towards the kitchen. I've been a fan of his for the longest and now he's in my house. I'm trying to think of what I'd say to him. I find myself, instead of going to meet Michael, pacing around the dining room away from everyone else. I'm not usually this nervous or shy. But something about this man just makes me go crazy.

"Come on, Naomi," I say to myself, rubbing my palms on my jeans. I pace a bit more before I shake my head at my ridiculousness. With another deep breath, I head out of the dining room and towards the kitchen once more. There Michael and Ashanti are sitting at the bar, engaged in a conversation. It looks as if Ashanti is just talking about herself and her many accomplishments while showing him her photos. As I get closer, Michael glances over and notices me, giving me that famous smile again.

"Hey, Michael..." I start, and he watches me, waiting to hear what I'm gonna say. I decide to just go for it. "Mind if I steal you away for a bit?" I bite my lip, avoiding Ashanti's eyes as she glares at me. The corners of Michael's mouth turn up as the sound of my voice reaches him.

"Well, actually, Nao-"

"Yeah, I don't mind." He interrupts Ashanti as he stands, grabbing his glass . "Thanks for the drink, Ashanti." He says, but she rolls her eyes as she watches us leave. We make our way to the upstairs common area and sit on the couch. Michael sits a bit close to me, draping his arm along the back of the couch as he gets comfortable.

"You know, I was just looking for an excuse to take a break from her," He says, leaning into me. "Thanks for rescuing me." I laugh a bit at his words.

"Well, I'm happy to help. I'm always willing to answer the call of a damsel in distress." I joke, trying to break the ice. He chuckles a bit.

"It looked that bad, huh?" He replies and I nod, overexaggerating it a bit. "Well, then I guess that makes you my knight in shining armor." He grins charmingly and I have to stop myself from melting.

"Ah, where are my manners. I'm Naomi, Daniel's sister. I would've introduced myself sooner, but you seemed a bit busy." I laugh nervously, struggling to sit still under his gaze.

"So you're this troublesome Mimi I've heard so much about?" Michael questions and I freeze, blushing in embarrassment. There's no way Daniel really told him about my nickname. I regain my composure and clear my throat.

"First of all, I don't know where this troublesome idea of me came from, cuz it's definitely not true." I retort, playfully turning my nose up.

Michael grins, his eyes filled with amusement. "Hmm, I don't know, Daniel talks about you quite a bit and based on his stories, you seem pretty troublesome to me." He leans back, a playful glint in his eyes as he observes my reaction. "But don't worry, I'm all for a bit of trouble."

I chuckle, feeling a bit more at ease with his easygoing demeanor. "Well, if that's the case, I hope you're ready for the full Samuels family experience. We're a handful, but it's all in good fun."

"So, Naomi," Michael begins, his eyes gleaming with curiosity, "Aside from being a troublemaker, Daniel tells me you're an artist."

I playfully roll my eyes at the "troublemaker" label. "Oh, yes, it's my favorite thing to do. I love to draw, paint, you name it."

"What would you say inspires you?" He asks, his expression showing genuine curiosity.

"I just feel like art is my way of keeping some semblance of sanity in this chaotic world, you know what I mean?" I explain.

"Yes, I know exactly what you mean." He says, nodding his head. "It must be a nice escape from the chaos of the world to be able to express yourself through art. I love listening to music; it helps me find clarity when my thoughts get too messy."

"I completely get that. And it's just a plus that I get to do it for a living." I say with a content smile.

"So being an artist is your full-time job?" he questions, his tone laced with intrigue.

"Yeah, at first it was a hobby, but it got so successful that I was able to quit my other job and do it full-time."

"An artist, huh? Anything I might've seen?" he asks, genuinely interested. I shrug casually.

"Possibly. I do commissions for all types of people, I've got a few pieces in the Brooklyn Museum, I also run an art page on Instagram, so maybe you've seen some of my art." I pull out my phone and show him my page. He takes the phone from my hands, scrolling and raising his eyebrows in surprise.

"These are amazing," he says quietly, clearly impressed. "Do you draw from real life often? It's so realistic and…detailed" He continues, running his fingers along my phone screen lightly.

"I'm experimenting with some other media forms, but yeah, all of these I painted from real life. Some of them even went for really high prices. My most recent piece went for $3,000. But I've been working on that one for months. It was a commission for the governor of New York."

"Wow! It's amazing. You got some serious talent girl!" He praises, giving me a high five. I laugh, blushing a bit as he compliments me. He hands me my phone back and pulls his out, going to my account on his Instagram and following it. It takes everything within me not to scream.

"Thank you. Art is just a huge passion for me. I love to make other people happy with it as well." I admit. Michael notices me blushing when it sinks in he just followed my account.

"Well, you've got a new fan." He says with a sly grin, leaning against my shoulder. "I might have to use your services sometime." He says, his gaze lingering on mine.

"Yeah, I mean, I'm down to make anything you'd like." I blurt out, before realizing what I'd just said. "I... didn't mean it like that." I let out a sheepish laugh and clasp my hands together. Michael laughs as well, but he really is just enjoying himself.

"How about you make a portrait of me?" He suggests, a hint of playfulness in his tone.

"When? Right now?"

"I'll leave it up to you. We got the next couple days." He reminds me with a wink.

"Okay, but you'll have to be on your A-game this whole week. Are you up for the challenge?" I question, matching his tone.

Michael leans in, his voice low and teasing. "I'm always up for a challenge, especially if it involves spending more time with someone as captivating as you."

I feel a flush of warmth, and I playfully roll my eyes. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Jordan."

He grins, unfazed. "Is that a promise, Ms. Samuels?"

"Absolutely," I reply, laughing a bit and enjoying our banter. Even though we've just met, it feels like we've been friends for a while. Michael takes note of the easy chemistry that we have, and that chemistry sets the tone for a vacation filled with shared moments and the promise of a memorable Christmas.

"Any other hidden talents I should know about, Naomi?" He questions me. Somewhere in our conversation, we've gravitated so close on the couch that there's no space between us. Yet, the proximity feels comfortable now, and any initial nervousness has dissipated.

"Well, you'll have to find that out, won't you?" I respond with a sly smirk.

"Oh, she wants to be mysterious now?" Michael chuckles, his dimples showing as he smiles at me.

"She does indeed. As you said, we've got these next few days. You'll just have to see for yourself," I reply, glancing at the clock to realize how late it has gotten. Most of the children have already fallen asleep, and the aunts and uncles have retired to their rooms. It appears that the family is settling down for the night. Michael and I exchange glances, acknowledging the quieting atmosphere around us.

"I guess it's time for us to call it a night," Michael suggests, a yawn coming from him. I nod in agreement, feeling a sense of contentment in the air.

"Yeah, it's getting late. Goodnight, Michael." I say, rising from the couch. Michael follows my actions and stands up.

"Goodnight, Naomi." He pulls me into a brief hug, and I reciprocate, my arms instinctively wrapping around his waist. After a moment, we separate, and I turn to make my way to my room.

"Uh..." Michael utters softly. "Which way is the guest room?" He asks. I smile and chuckle.

"It's down the hall, second door on the left," I reply, pointing him in the direction.

"Ah, okay, goodnight again." He says, before walking towards his room.

"Goodnight," I say softly, heading into my bedroom and getting ready for bed. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and stare for a moment. Out of nowhere, I break out into a victory dance and squeal silently. I still cannot believe that Michael B Jordan is at my house, or that he's going to be staying here for a week, or that he might even like me! I take a deep breath and compose myself once more, worried I might wake someone.

As I settle into bed, the tranquility of the night wraps around me like a warm blanket. Reflecting on the unexpected turns of this day, I realize exactly how crazy this whole day has been. I can only hope that this isn't a dream. With a contented sigh, I drift off to sleep, eagerly anticipating the things to come these next few days.

To Be Continued...

#fluff #michael b jordan #michael b jordan x reader #Black reader #black reader fluff #Black oc #oc x character #noirsfantasy #12 days of christmas #christmas

[valkyrieromanoff]

Michael B Jordan x actress!reader

I fell in love with Killmonger again thanks to Wakanda Forever 💖😍 After rewatching my favourite Michael B Jordan movies, I couldn't help but disassociate a little bit. So, hope you enjoy it! 💘✨

│CASTING

Y/N always knew she wanted to be an actress. Since she was a little girl and watched with her grandmother some novelas, trying to memorize the lines so she could recite it late at night in her bed. She dreamed to one day star in one of the Hollywood films she had grown up watching; one day she would meet her favorite actors and, if she was lucky, perform alongside them.

At eighteen, with a scholarship for a theater course and her dreams, she moved to LA. The first few weeks were magical; everything was new, and she found herself walking through the locations of her favorite movies. The fantasies quickly ran out of steam; the scholarship was full but didn’t cover her expenses, and with her savings dwindling and the money running out like water, Y/N needed a job.

Luckily, a Mexican restaurant was hiring, so Y/N put her Spanish skills to use and got the job with a little persistence and kindness. Although it was a part-time position, she occasionally put in extra time to make up for going out to auditions.

It was her 100th casting test when her nineteenth birthday arrived. Her roommates sung "happy birthday" and bought her a cupcake. Wishing she had  lucky, Y/N blew the candle.

 ◦ ◦ ◦

"They're looking for a Latina actress between the ages of 18 and 24." Julie, one of her roommates, said while grabbing a flyer. "They left it at the college; I thought you may give it a try."

“I guess; It won't harm to give it a shot.” Y/N muttered.

That's how she ended up in a chair, dangling her feet nervously, waiting her turn. Each girl returning from the test had a mixture of delight and disappointment on their faces, leaving her confused. Y/N reread the script for the fiftyth time when her name was called. Before stepping into the room, she took a big breath.

“So when you're ready, Y/LN.” As he sat down next to three other people, the producer spoke.

Y/N inhaled deeply, closed her eyes to get into character, and started reciting her lines.

"The real monsters don’t hide in the dark, under your bed, or in the woods." While speaking, she slowly raised her gaze. “They live with us; we pass them on the streets daily." 

"The truly terrifying monsters are the ones who smile at you before stabbing your back." 

Y/N clenched her jaw and took a moment to reflect.

"The real monsters are the ones we call family. The ones we trust with our darkest secrets and fears. Those who should be protecting us are the first to twist a knife in the face of our faults when we least expect it." As she spoke, tears started to form in her eyes.

Y/N expressed gratitude and waited for the producer's debate with his assistants. She wrung her hands nervously, doing a breathing exercise to keep calm.

"Well, we appreciate your performance, but we need to see if you get along with the cast." The producer spoke up, pulling out a piece of paper and holding out his hand. "Memorize these lines and return in about ten minutes.”

 ◦ ◦ ◦

When Y/N returned, someone was already standing in the center of the room. It was a tall man dressed in a sweatshirt ensemble, his face was tilted as he held the script in his hands. 

"Ready, Y/LN?" The man turned around in response to the producer's question.

Y/N gasped as she realized that the person she would be acting with was  Michael B. fucking Jordan. She brought her hand to her mouth to pull herself together, nodding her head for them to begin.

"You can't believe what they say; it's all just lies. They want to play with your mind, manipulate you so you won't be able to escape their sick game." Michael stated incisively.

"It's funny because they said the same thing about you." Y/N replied while focusing on his eyes. "Why should I believe you are telling the truth?"

"I’d never lie to you." When she turned away, he assured her.

“Well, it seems that they were right. You cannot prove your point.” Y/N said as she started to leave.

Michael held her arm, pulling her back into place and lessening the previous distance.

"And how did they prove it to you? What was the excuse, huh? that they are your family?"

Y/N anxiously bit her lip.

"I can't force you to believe what I say; that is your own choice to decide which course you will take.” Michael spoke while resting his hand on her chest's left side.

While struggling to hold his eyes, Y/N gasped, her heart beating and her cheeks flushed. 

"Your heart will tell you what to do; follow your instincts, and if it decides to go beside me,” He held her chin with his other hand. “I'll be waiting for you."

The intensity of his words gave Y/N shivers, and she had to use all her self-control to keep from fainting in his arms.

“How can I tell if I'm making the right decision? “ As his palm touched her cheek, Y/N asked while tightly closing her eyes.

"You can't, but you've to believe in yourself." Her eyes opened as Michael ended the scene;  they stared at each other for a few seconds before the producer exclaimed ‘cut’.

"Congratulations, then! You have the part. You’ll get an email with the information in two to three days.” After standing up to greet her, the producer spoke.

“Oh my goodness, thank you.” Y/N cheered enthusiastically. “Thank you so much, I won't disappoint." 

The producer simply nodded his head in agreement and left. Y/N shouted enthusiastically while using a few brazilian swear words to express her happiness.

“I don't know what you said, but I hope it was cheerful.” Michael B. Jordan commented behind her, causing her to leap forward. “Oh my bad. I didn't mean to scare you."

"That's okay. I had my head in the clouds. It’s just hard to believe that this is actually happening.” Y/N admitted while grinning.

"Try to believe it; you did a great job and deserved that role." With a hand on her shoulder, Michael reassured her. "Catch you at the recording.”

Y/N shook her head, too stunned to speak. When she confirmed that she was the only one in the room, she whispered a hushed ‘porra’.

#michael b jordan #michael b. jordan #killmonger #michael b jordan x reader #imagine #actress!reader #latina

[destinio1]

Where everybody at?? Nobody posting MBJ, M’Baku, or Killmonger fics? I need something to read ☺️ 😜😂

@hearteyes-for-killmonger @chaneajoyyy @mbakusthrone

#erik killmonger #black panther #michael b jordan #michael b jordan x reader #m'baku #n'jadaka

[killslumflower]

I’m sorry, I love my man I swear but this took me right on OUTTTT 🤣

confessions (Michael b. Jordan x black!reader)

#michael b jordan x reader #michael b jordan #smut #freaky #funny #lmao what #mbj #mbj meme #fan fiction #coming soon

[starcrossedxwriter]

Princess’s Punishment (MBJ x Reader)

A/N: I didn’t have the energy to go back and find the two asks lol but this is a request from two folks for a kinky punishment story with. So enjoyyyy!

Warnings: degradation, name calling, NSFW, lots of kinks (spanking, cockwarming, etc)

***

“What do you think?” You gave her fiancee a model-like twirl so he could examine your outfit from all angles. 

Michael glanced up from his phone and the email he was typing, letting out a low whistle as his eyes swept over your perfect frame. 

“That dress gon’ get you into trouble, Princess.” 

You threw him a coy smile before turning back to the giant mirror in the middle of the store. You were the only customer there, Michael preferring to reserve stores for an hour or two so you could have a private and serene shopping experience. It ensured everyone in the store was solely dedicated to getting you exactly what you needed and wanted. Most stores happily obliged, knowing that anytime Michael brought his princess in, the limit on his card was nonexistent. Today was no different. 

“That looks great on you,” a man offered as he emerged from the back of the store. His dreads were neatly pulled back out of his face. He was the definition of tall, dark, and handsome, the exact type of man who would have once turned your head before you met Michael, the love of your life. But no one compared to the literal sexiest man alive in your eyes and that was a fact. 

You had never seen him in the store before but when the woman you typically worked with didn’t return, you realized he would be assisting you. 

“Hope you don’t mind. Jenn had a family emergency. I’m Marcus,” he reached out to shake your hm which you accepted with a bright smile. 

“Nice to meet you. Y/N,” you introduced yourself before turning back to the mirror, your hands running over the luxuriously soft material that hugged your curves. “Not sure this is the most flattering though.” 

“I have another dress in the back, we just got it in. Similar to this one but it’s perfect for you. Will be far more flattering. A body like that… you should show it off.” 

You did not pick up on the obvious flirting in his tone, particularly as that was the farthest thing from your mind. You merely nodded with a smile. “Thank you. That would be great. Can’t wait to see it.” 

“I’ll bring that and a couple other pieces. We technically aren’t supposed to show them yet but for a friend,” he winked at you. “I can bend a few rules.” 

“Really??” You were merely excited about getting an advanced look at your favorite store’s new pieces. 

“Of course. Be right back.” 

“Thank you!” You watched him for a few moments as he walked away before turning to Michael whose face was set in a scowl. “Everyone here’s so nice all the time.” 

“That nigga’s nice cause he wants to fuck you,” Michael grumbled, his tone signaling that he was not as pleased with the service as you.” 

Your jaw fell open before you laughed at the absurdity of the idea. Men rarely flirted with you, if ever. “Come on, baby. Don’t be silly. He wants us to spend money, likely to make his commission better so he’s just being extra complimentary.” 

“Nahhh, I watched him basically undress you with his fuckin’ eyes, Princess. Besides, I’m the one payin’ and nigga didn’t say shit to me. Acted like I’m not even here. I don’t like him.” 

You merely laughed, clearly not realizing that Michael was genuinely upset with the salesman. “Aww my grumpy baby. You don’t like anyone,” you teased before disappearing into your dressing room to try on more outfits. 

Outfit after outfit, you pranced around for your boyfriend and gave him a fashion show. He was thoroughly unhelpful as he loved 95% of the items you tried on and refused to help you narrow down the massive stack of clothes. Anytime you went shopping, he thought you should buy everything you remotely liked, even if you had one exactly like it in the closet at home. 

“What do you think? Don’t need both black dresses,” you muttered more to yourself than either man in the room. 

“You look perfect in both. Just get both.” 

“Not helpful, babe!” 

“I think you should get the one you have on. Shows off your body better.” 

“You commentin’ on her body a lil too much, my nigga,” Michael called out, clearly frustrated by Marcus’ innocent compliments toward you as you finished trying on clothes. 

“Michael!” You whipped your head around in shock at his rudeness. “Sorry, he gets very grumpy when we’ve been shopping too long.” 

“No apologies needed,” he raised his hands in surrender before making an excuse to go to the back of the store to get her something else. 

You scoffed once he was gone, you and Michael having a silent standoff. 

“That was hella rude,” you chastised him. 

Michael merely shrugged “Hella rude for him to openly flirt with my girl in front of me. He bold enough for that shit, he’s bold enough to take the heat.” 

“You’re ridiculous.” 

“Nah and what were you doin’? Flirting back with that nigga.” 

You let out a laugh at the absurdity of that statement. “Flirting back?? It’s called being nice. I only got eyes for one, very jealous man.” 

And with that, you disappeared back into the changing room to put back on your real clothes. You could not understand what was up with Michael as of late. He seemed to be so much more jealous than he used to be lately, snapping or glaring at any man who got too close or talked to you for too long. He had done the same thing at a premiere just last week. You had chalked the first couple times up to him having a bad day but now you wondered if something else was wrong. 

“You ok?” You asked as you both patiently waited for Marcus to package your mountain of clothes and accessories. 

His eyebrow was furrowed with an angry expression on his face. Still packing most of the weight of Erik Killmonger, he looked intimidating to say the least. But you did not understand what he could be that upset about, nothing had even happened. 

He did not answer you, merely handing Marcus his card to finish paying. 

“Need help getting these to your car?” Marcus asked, his hands already preparing to grab the heavy garment bags and smaller shopping bags 

“That would be g-” you started to say when Michael immediately cut you off. 

“Nah we got it.” His short tone made you cringe slightly, Marcus’s face blanching at the rudeness of it. 

He gestured for his security to pick up the bags and grabbed the rest himself before gesturing for you to exit the store. You merely offered a polite thank you before following him out of the store. 

***

As soon as you walked into the house, you started up the stairs to put your new items in their proper spots when he stopped you. 

“Princess!” 

“What’s up, babe?” 

His tone and face looked almost bored as he scrolled on his phone. “When you’re done, assume the position by the counter.” 

Your eyes grew wide with surprise. Assume the position was a clear directive in the Jordan household, one that let you know the relaxing evening you had planned was not going to happen. A sign that you had upset your master, and thus, must be punished. 

“What did I do??” The logical part of your brain was well aware he was not going to tell you. If your infraction was not obvious, he rarely told you what it was until the punishment had started. But as you racked your brain, you could not understand what on Earth you did to upset him. You had a really nice day together and aside from the weird interaction with the sales associate, he seemed fine. Then it clicked in your brain. 

His jealous streak seemed to not have ended earlier, after all. 

“That’s for me to know and you to find out. 10 minutes.” 

He did not spare you another glance before he disappeared toward the living room, leaving you gawking after him on the stairwell.

“Fuck my life,” you muttered as you raced up the stairs. You completely disregarded your original mission of putting your clothes away, you did not have time for that. 

Instead, you stripped down to nothing and pulled your braids out of their high ponytail. You went to your drawer and pulled out the various things you knew were required: your collar and leash, nipple clamps, flogger, blindfold, and ball gag. He did not always use them all and sometimes he used none of them. But that was another thing for him to know and you to find out. 

You descended down the stairs, your entire body almost floating with anticipation. You knew whatever he had planned would be the most delicious form of torture and that he would fuck you senseless once you begged for his forgiveness enough. 

Michael was leaning against the counter, scrolling on his phone as he waited. Ingredients for dinner laid out on the counter. 

“Thinkin’ short ribs for dinner. Cool?” He asked, his voice completely calm and normal despite what you knew was about to happen. The sweet, doting finace who cared what you wanted for dinner would disappear and a new persona would take over. 

“Sounds good. Thanks, babe.” 

“You ready, Princess?” he asked, checking in as he always did before an intense punishment or scene, which you always appreciated. They were punishments but they were supposed to be pleasurable, in a way, for you too. 

“Yes, daddy,” you answered immediately, handing him all the toys you brought with you before sinking down to your knees before him. You spread your legs just enough for your flower to be on display for him, already wet and aching for his rough touch in the mere minutes he left you. The chill of the house caused the hair on your arms to stick up but you ignored it, things would heat up in a few minutes. 

You wanted to smirk as you watched his eyes cloud with lust but you kept your face neutral. Michael was gone and your master stood in front of you. And his perfect, submissive fuck toy replaced you, designed and ready for whatever pain or pleasure he was generous enough to offer. And the growing ache between your thighs revealed a simple truth: you loved every single second of being his slut. 

Your eyes remained trained on the wood panels of the kitchen floor as he silently studied you. The minutes stretched on and on at an agonizing pace but you did not lift your head or move an inch. However, you could not stop the little sigh of relief that passed your lips when you finally saw his feet come into your line of vision. 

His hand wrapped around your throat, your mouth falling open with a small moan as he squeezed. It was not hard, just enough to let you know he was there. More, you wanted to beg. That was the problem, it did not matter what he did. You just wanted more of it and more of him. You were so addicted to the drug that was Michael, it felt like a lifetime supply would not even be enough. 

His hand forced your head upward so you were looking directly into his expressive brown eyes, your favorite part of him. This position could have had you cumming right then. 

All you could think about was how good it felt to have his hand squeezing your throat while you rode his dick. The mere memory made your pussy clench. But that was not in the cards for you… not yet anyway. 

“You want me to fuck you, don’t you?” He knew everything about his little fuck toy, exactly what his Princess wanted and needed. And there was not a man alive who knew it better. “Such an eager fuck toy for me. That’s why you were tryin’ on all those slutty clothes today? Think you’d get my attention and I’d come back here and fuck you like the attention-seeking whore you are?” He asked as he let go of your throat, much to your sadness, and started circling you. A predator sizing up his prey, indeed. 

You were not foolish enough to answer a single question he levied, they were rhetorical. 

“But I wasn’t the only man whose attention you got. Bet you loved that shit too… his hands on you fixing your outfits, complimenting you. Flirting with him, accepting his help right in front of your master. I should’ve fucked you right there in front of him to remind you that there’s only one man whose attention you should want.” 

The thought of that made your head spin. Him forcing you to your knees in the dressing room, fucking you from behind, claiming you and your body loudly for every person to hear. 

He gently put your collar around your neck, the fur lining made it more comfortable than it would have been otherwise. It was custom, Princess Y/N, embroidered on it. 

“Too tight?” he asked as he attached the leash to it. 

“No master,” you muttered. 

“Good.” 

He tugged on it, forcing you in step behind him. You bit back the moans this caused, him walking you around your living room and kitchen for a few minutes. He knew how much you loved to crawl behind him. It was clear he was trying to ramp you up as much as possible before the punishment truly started. And it was working perfectly. 

By the time you returned to the spot you started at in the kitchen, your knees in pain from the hardwood floor, your body was screaming for his touch. Your core felt painfully empty, you were desperate to feel him on you, inside you. He slid the blindfold over your eyes. 

You whimpered for a moment at the sudden loss of sight, sensory deprivation was a new game for you both and you were still getting used to it. 

“Say the word and the blindfold can come off, Princess,” he whispered. At your nods, he continued. “Face down, ass up. Legs spread. Don’t move a muscle.” 

You adjusted yourself to assume his favorite position. You hissed as your upper body laid against the cool kitchen floor but you made sure the arch in your back was perfect, your ass perched high in the air. Your legs were spread enough for him to see the glistening mess coating your inner thighs. 

“You disgustin’ cum slut. Crawlin’ like a whore made you that wet?” He degraded you, making your entire body shudder as his hands caressed your ass. 

“Yes daddy,” you breathed out, your brain already losing the ability to fully form words. The fog of pleasure was already heavy and he had not even started. “I-I’m sorry.” 

You tensed up sightly, knowing that when you least expected it, his caresses would turn into sharp blows that would make you cry out. However, just as quickly as he started touching you, he stopped. You could not feel his presence around you at all. You had not been given permission to move and you could not see him. You could not even sense where he was anymore. 

Had he left you there? Naked and unable to move like a statue? After a few moments, you heard soft footsteps not far away, causing you to exhale slightly. He was still hovering around. 

Minutes passed by, slower than you thought time could move, as he just left you there without  a single touch or word. But you followed directions, your legs would literally collapse before you moved a muscle. 

Your mind raced to understand why he was not punishing you. And after about 15 minutes of utter silence except for the sounds of him cooking, you longed for it. The sting of his palm, the fire of the flogger against your ass, your thighs, your back, literally anywhere at this point. But there was nothing. This was more of a punishment than the spanking. If you had been given permission to speak, you would have begged for your own torture at this point, would have begged for as many lashings as he felt you deserved for being such a shameless whore. But you could do nothing, nothing but sit with shaking legs in your disorienting haze of pleasure until he decided that you were worth even doling out a punishment on. 

It was clear to you why he chose that particular spot, a spot you knew was visible to him regardless of where he stood in the kitchen. You were on display. 

At that realization, you deepened the arch in your back to something you didn't even know was possible. You had to force yourself not to wiggle your ass in his face, entice him to light it on fire with his strength. 

“Couldn’t even last 15 minutes without daddy’s attention, could you?” You were not sure if you were allowed to answer. “You may speak, Princess.” 

“D-daddy pl-please…” you begged. 

“Didn’t seem to care about me earlier. Why should I give you attention now?” 

“B-Because… I need…” your words failed you. You needed so much in that moment. You needed the pain, you needed the pleasure it brought, you needed to be reminded what you were and whose you were. 

“You need what? Need me to make you cum? You’ll be grateful if I let you cum at all tonight. Need me to fuck you like the cumslut you are? Not sure you deserve my dick. Or you need me to remind you what happens to disobedient fuck toys who anger their masters? Need me to remind you who owns you?” 

“Y-Yes! P-Please… I d-deserve to be punished. I n-need it.” The words barely left your lips before you felt the first blow of the flogger against your ass. “T-Thank you,” you moan, savoring the sting and ache it left behind. 

However, you could not savor it long as he rained them down on every inch of your ass and thighs and a couple well-placed agonizing ones against your pussy that made you scream. You kept count, as was already required. 

“Keep your legs open, slut or I’ll add five more,” he demanded as your entire body convulsed as the flogger caught part of your clit. You forced your body to maintain the position, which took all your willpower. And to think, you begged for this. 

Tears were streaming down your face when he reached 29. That was the most he had ever done with the flogger as it was more painful than his hand and it was torture. However, you took it, the desire to use your safeword never coming to your mind. You would not be able to sit tomorrow but your entire body was on fire, hot, sweaty and desperate for him to fuck the shit out of you. 

When you finally said 30, you were proud of yourself for taking all of it like a champ. 

“That’s a good slut. You should see your ass right now,” he muttered. “So beautiful.” You could only imagine your entire body was completely red and you could feel a couple welts from where he punished you in the same spot over and over again. “You may sit up.” 

You whimpered as you stretched and moved out of your position, your muscles protesting. As you sat up, his hand cupped your cheek and wiped away the few falling tears. 

“Too much?” he asked quietly. 

“No sir. T-thank you for r-reminding me what I am,” you whisper. 

He helped you to your feet, your legs shaking slightly. 

“Let’s watch somethin’ on the tv. Short ribs are slow cookin’.”

Despite the pain in your body, you could not help but smile. This was what made the punishments worth it, this moment. You were happy he let you walk to the couch, giving you a chance to stretch your legs. You stood and watched, licking your lips as he stripped off his clothes before sitting down, his head dripping with pre-cum that made you want to sink to your knees and steal a taste. You licked your lips, longing clearly written on your face that made Michael want to chuckle. He knew how much his Princess loved servicing him on your knees. 

“Don’t even think about it. Worthless cunts who can’t remember who they belong to don’t get a taste. Why?” 

“Because servicing you is a reward and I don’t deserve a reward, daddy,” you mumbled quietly, your voice just as lost and pitiful as you felt. This was the point of punishment though because all you now wanted to do was assure him you were his perfect, obedient princess so you could be rewarded. 

“Good girl. Earn my forgiveness and maybe I’ll fuck that sweet mouth before bed tonight. Now for your punishment…” 

Your eyes grew wide. The last 30 minutes had not been the punishment?? 

Fuck my life. 

“Climb up here and sit on my dick. Facing the tv.” 

You practically catapulted onto his dick without hesitation. Not just because good girls did what they were told without hesitation but because this was your type of punishment. RIding his dick was your favorite pastime.

You slid down on his hard dick, moaning loudly as he filled you to the brim. It was not the orgasm your body desperately needed but it satisfied the overwhelming, blinding carnal need to be filled you felt. You immediately started rocking your hips to increase the friction and pleasure when a powerful and painful swat against your already bruised ass stopped your movements. 

“I didn’t tell your dumb ass to move. Seems like you keep forgetting I own you Princess. This pussy… this body… it’s all mine. And no one else gets to touch what’s mine, no one else controls what’s mine. So you’re gonna sit there on my dick and you’re not gonna move until I tell you to. When I tell you to ride my dick, you do it. When I tell you to stop, you fuckin’ stop. Understand?” 

“D-Daddy please?” you hoped your pleas for mercy and the soft puppy eyes you had on would be enough to soften his resolve. Of all the things he had forced you to do since walking in the house, this was the worst of them. To feel him inside you and be so close to bringing him the pleasure he deserved and you desperately needed but not be allowed to? 

Fuck my life. 

“You should be thankin’ me for even letting your worthless cunt warm my dick. Now sit there and watch the show,” he nodded toward the tv where an episode of both of your favorite anime was playing. 

You moaned and turned around, trying to keep your attention focused on the show in front of you. However, it was impossible. 

This was an utterly new sensation and, while it was torturous, you could not deny that it was pleasurable in its own way. 

Michael’s girth and length was something to be reckoned with and he knew how to use it. His dick perfectly curved into your g-spot and could have you cumming with a few strokes. As you sat on him, his hands occasionally wandered to caress your other pleasure zones. His strong hands massaged your inner thighs causing you to moan. 

You wondered if you could orgasm from just sitting there. You would not because you did not have permission but you wondered if it was possible. Because between his hands and the feel of him inside you, you could think of nothing else. You could feel every inch of him, his dick throbbing and pulsing like a heartbeat against your walls. 

Your body squirmed in his touch, your moans as he played with your body were consistent, particularly when he brushed against your clit. He offered a featherlike touch, it was barely there but you were so worked up, you felt every jolt of pleasure through your body magnified. 

Your pussy clenched around him as if silently begging him to move. But you knew he would not allow you to until he was ready. 

He worked up a rhythm against your clit, your movements becoming more uncontrolled, your breaths heavier. You weren’t gonna last long like this.

“Whose pussy is this, Princess?” 

“Yours, daddy. Only y-yours.” 

“Who can bring you pleasure like your master?” 

“N-No one. J-just you.” 

“Never forget that shit, understand?” 

You nodded fervently. Every punishment had a lesson and this one was etched into your brain matter as now was the feeling of every vein and inch of his dick. 

“I w-won’t! I promise, daddy.” 

He pressed a soft kiss to your bare back, increasing the speed of his fingers. “Cum on my dick, Princess.” 

With permission to cum, you stopped holding back and allowed your body to feel everything. Fuck his fingers knew exactly what buttons to push as your body finally got the pleasure it needed for the last hour. The build up was so fast you barely got to enjoy it but you did not care, you needed the crash, the fall to drown in the pleasure only he could provide. And when you reached the peak, you crashed hard. 

“You like that, baby? You gon’ cum for daddy?” 

“Y-Yes… fuck… t-thank you!” you cried out as you threw your head back as an explosion of pleasure took over every inch of your body. You felt pleasure down to the very cells that made up every part of you. 

You gasped as Michael’s hand wrapped around your long hair and gripped it, pulling you backward. He turned you so his mouth could claim yours, drowning out your moans and cries with a kiss so dominating you never wanted it to end. 

“That’s my good girl,” he praised, causing your heart to soar. “You’ve earned my forgiveness. Ride.” 

You did not need to hear anything else as you started to ride him with abandon, moaning every time his head rammed into your g-spot. You’d cum again before this was over but you made it your personal mission to ensure he did too. You pulled out every trick and play you had in the book until you felt his hands dig into your hips and he started ramming into you. 

You let him take control as he fucked you like a rag doll, ignorning the ache of your bruised ass and thighs as he slammed into them with every thrust upward. He kept you flush to his chest with one hand wrapped tight around your neck, the gentleness of his choking earlier long gone. 

“Where you want it?” he demanded as you felt the signs of him about to cum. 

“Cum inside me, please!” you begged. Michael knew you had a bit of a breeding kink, loving the feeling of him filling you with his cum. That was often another punishment when he would cum on you instead of inside you. Not that him marking his territory was really a punishment. 

“Want me to fill this sweet cunt, baby??” 

“Yes! Please, please!” you begged as he fucked you so hard you felt as if you would be seeing stars for hours. 

You could not stop your body from convulsing as you felt the warmth of his cum surge inside you, you clenched around him. 

Your legs burned as you used your arms, braced on his knees to stop your upper body from toppling forward. He rubbed soothing patterns along your spine to calm you. Michael pushed you to your limit every time but he also knew how to take care of you afterward. 

He lifted you off of him, a slight whimper escaping your lips at the emptiness you suddenly felt. He only sat you down long enough to stand up himself and you were quickly back in his arms, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist as he carried you up to your master suite. 

He laid you on the bed and got some soothing lotion and started massaging it everywhere the flogger hit you. You shuddered at the cool feeling but it felt heavenly combating the stinging you still felt and soreness you knew you would still feel tomorrow. 

“You did so good for me, Princess,” he offered, your sweet Michael clearly having returned to you. 

That was all you needed to hear, that you had pleased him. 

“Thank you.” Your gratitude was muffled against the comforter of your shared bed. After a few moments of silence, you sat up and glanced back at him. “You know you’re it for me, right? Don’t have eyes for anyone else.” 

“Yea I know… sometimes I just worry…” his voice trailed off. 

You ignored the ache to shift over to him and straddle his waist, his hands resting on your hips. “You’re always reassuring me, sometimes I forget you need that too. You are the greatest thing that ever happened to me. It’s you and me till the end of the line, babe.” You teasingly peppered his face with kisses until he finally smiled and started laughing. 

“You and me, baby.” 

“But anytime you wanna get a little jealous and possessive and it leads to that? Feel free,” you joked, the scene still dominating every space in your mind. At your words, you suddenly became hyper aware of his member pressed against your core and instinctively started grinding on top of him. 

“Princess,” he growled. “This time ain’t about me,” he reminded her. Aftercare was about you and he was committed to it. 

“How much time do we have till dinner?” 

“Two hours.” 

“Enough time for you to teach me my lesson again and then take care of me. Don’t think it quite stuck,” you shrugged nonchalantly, taking on your bratty persona to rile him up. 

You shrieked as he flipped you over onto your back and stood up. Master was back and he was ready to make the most of those two hours.

***

A/N: Thanks for reading!! My requests are open if you have more asks/requests… just know that it takes me a while lol

Drop a comment and let me know what you thought :)

#black writers #michael b jordan #michael b jordan x oc #mbjordanedit #michael b jordan x reader #black panther #michael b jordan fanfic #creed 3 #adonis creed #creed iii

[b3ans0up]

JORDAN!!♡♡☆

#michael b jordan #michael b jordan smut #michael b jordan x reader

[henneseyhoe]

Adonis being clingy with his wife and new baby.

Adonis x BLACK!FEM!reader

WARNINGS: postpartum depression mentions, other baby related stuff

SUMMARY: Adonis trying to be as helpful as he can, but the reader finds it a bit overwhelming while dealing with postpartum depression.

✮✮✮✮

“Pacifiers?”

“Check”

“Burping cloth?”

“Check”

“Bibs?”

“Check. Babe, we have everything. I promise” I chuckle, watching Adonis go through a list of baby necessities on his phone, while trying to calm the whining boy in his arms, the man being adamant on keeping everything where they need to be just for times like this when his son was irritated.

“We have diapers right?”

“Mhm”

“What about wipes?”

“Yes, all in the nursery, Donnie”

“Okay, good, good….you need anything? Thirsty?” He tucks his phone away, rocking the now resting baby in his arms.

“Mmm…water, maybe?” I shrug and he nods, rushing out of the room. He had been acting like this all day, running around the house like a chicken with its head cut off. I hadn’t even been home for two hours yet, just coming back from the hospitals secondary check up after a very unplanned home birth. The house was a mess from two days ago, my poor mother and brother being stressed out of their minds trying to deliver a baby that wasn’t supposed to be here just yet.

Luckily, him coming two weeks earlier didn’t matter and he was healthy as a horse. with the way he was screaming at the top of his lungs, you could tell that was a healthy baby. But, meanwhile I was pushing a 5 pound, big headed baby out of me, Adonis was scrambling to find a flight back to Cali so he could make it to the birth, which was unsuccessful. It took an entire day and some change to get back home, the man so disappointed in himself that he took a business trip so late in my 3rd trimester.

Though I told him to do it, he still felt bad, promising to never leave my side in circumstances like this ever again. The birth went smoothly even though it wasn’t expected, and as soon as Adonis landed, he was blowing up my phone with FaceTimes back to back. And he was completely serious with the ‘never leave your side” thing, cause he was on me like white on rice when he got home. Helping me to and from the bathroom, even though I could walk fine, supplying me with any kind of food or snack I asked for, diaper duty, which was the best perk, and massages.

He was showering me with all kinds of love and affection, but as fast as my high came from giving birth, the lows swooped in just as quick. The 6th day after birth came and postpartum depression came knocking. I was still functioning though. Not cause I wanted to, but because I had an infant now and had no time to dissect why I really felt the way I did.

As more days passed, I became more agitated with my circumstances and Adonis constant ‘bugging’. I knew it was from a place of love, but I needed rest before anything. I was just too cautious to tell him that, afraid I’d end up sounding like a bitch because I wanted a break from my husband for a few hours. Some women would have to beg their husbands to do what Adonis does, but I felt ungrateful because I didn’t have to, and quickly got tired of that because of emotions I couldn’t control.

✮✮✮✮

About three more days had gone by, and it had officially been a month since giving birth. My postpartum depression had subsided a bit, and I felt better about myself, but Adonis was the same, and so was my sleep schedule.

“…can I help you, sir?” I look over my shoulder, spotting my husband watching me intensely. The infant I had in my arms whines and mixes at the sudden movements, unlatching from my nipple for a moment before going right back to feasting. I was reclined in a couch placed in the nursery, praying to god that I could catch some Z’s.

“Huh?” He queries, still staring.

“You’ve been following me around the house like a lost puppy all day. Now you over my shoulder watching me nurse like I don’t know what I’m doing” I say, a bit agitated since I haven’t slept for more than a few hours everyday for the passed month.

“What? I know you know what you’re doing, baby” He completely ignores my other statement, his attention still drawn to my current ‘activity’. I blink at him for a prolonged second, then laughed, shaking my head. “Okay, well back up off my bumper, can you?” I suggest, waving him off with my hand. He sighs, leaning up and walking away. “Your daddy is a bit obsessed, don’t you think?” I look down at our son, his brown eyes fluttering closed as he begins to drift off into his fourth nap of the day.

I close my eyes too, relaxing.

‘Maybe I could sneak in a nap too’

just as I thought I was gonna have peace and quiet, I feel Adonis plop down right besides me, looking over my shoulder. I was in my right mind to lock him in a room now. I sigh, opening my eyes back up to the unpleasant sight of the sun shining through the baby blue curtains across from me. I’d rather see the inside of my eyelids. I was exhausted.

“…he looks like me, doesn’t he?” He pokes, smiling down at his new found pride and joy.

I slowly turn my head to the man, his face being so close to me that our noses touch. “Donnie…get outta my face” I mellowly warn him, ready to run him out of the nursery.

“I’m sorry! I’m just intrigued. I wasn’t there for when he came, I just wanna make that time back” I bite back a loud cackle for the sake of not scaring my son out of his cinnamon toned skin. Snorting, I cover my mouth.

Giving him a ‘be serious’ look with the tilt of my head, I uncover my mouth. “Donnie, please. It’s been almost five weeks since his birth, you came a day late, and it’s not your fault. Be happy you even found a flight that would get you back here so suddenly. Plus, you already made that 24 hours back, now you just being clingy” I say, pecking his lips twice. “It’s just a bit…overwhelming right now, that’s all,”

“I’m not saying it’s you, I’m not not really in a place to…ya know…be as social with you as I was before”

He nods, understanding. “And you know I love you, but sometimes I don’t need anything at all, just silence” Taking in everything I say, he doesn’t argue, understanding that maybe he was doing a little much on the waiting hand and foot, asking me questions at every movement I made.

He caresses my thigh, kissing my forehead. “I’m sorry. I’m really not trynna stress you, I just don’t wanna feel like I’m not doin’ enough, or want you to feel like I don’t care”

I smile. “It’s okay. Just tone it down a bit, okay? Next week I promise you can be as clingy with us as you want” he nods, starting to play with the little mitten that covered our sons hand. I knew he still wasn’t gonna leave any time soon yet, waiting for the baby to stop eating so he could hold him again. I just let him be. For now.

“Does it hurt?” He asks suddenly, and I shake my head. “Not really. It did for the first few times, but since he’s latching better, no”

“…he getting enough, right?”

I pause, my eyebrow raising at the man.

“Yes, my titties produce enough milk for our son. Any other questions, doc?” I ask with playful attitude.

He shakes his head, still looking. It was silent for a moment , only the sounds of summer rain tapping against the window and swallowing followed by shallow sighs from the infant being heard. That was until I decided to put my boob up and replace my nipple with his favorite paci since he had fallen asleep, remembering the doctor told me not to feed him while he’s not awake, considering my milk supply was fine and he gets full fast.

Yet, that still doesn’t stop my husband from breathing down my neck, attempting to reach for him, which I dodge by brushing him off with my shoulder.

Taking a breath, I glare at him. “What, Adonis? You wanna feed him?”

His eyes glimmer with excitement as he smiles, perking up at the simple question. “I can? Yeah” he asks before quickly answering.

“Grow some titties then” I pat his chest then stood to my feet, now attempting to burp the resting baby.

#creed iii #creed 3 #adonis #adonis creed #black fanfic writer #black fanfiction #black!reader #masterlist #black actors #black reader #black!fem!reader #black!oc #smut masterlist #henneseyhoe #michael b jordan #michael b jordan x reader #black tumblr #writing #writers on tumblr

[nareyacute101]

Boyfriends Best Friend PT.1 ~ E&D

This is a fanfic I wrote a while ago so I’m just posting it and I hope y’all enjoy 😭

———————————————————————

Y/N POV

I was at home with my boyfriend of 3 years almost 4 next month, Donnie. We met in high school in the beginning of high school and started dating in the 10th grade. I thought he was really hot and sweet when I started talking to him. But, we were waiting for Erik to just hang out as friends , me and Erik are friends , I met Erik through Donnie because they have be friends since elementary so for a while, so Donnie walked downstairs since he was upstairs and I was downstairs eating food, "Babe, I'm going to the store to get snacks so if Erik comes , just let him in." Donnie said going to the kitchen " okay babe, I will." I said and Donnie came around to give you a short passionate kiss and left the house.

After he left, you went to put on comfortable clothes on and went back downstairs, trying to find a movie to watch and 5 minutes later, you heard the doorbell ring. You got up to open the door and knew it was Erik so you swung the door open and their revealed Erik. Now, when you first met him you thought he was cute or whatever but a year later and some, he got hotter and whew Chile, anyways, Erik was smiling and said " hey y/n" with his deep voice that was so sexy. "Hey Erik" you said as you hugged his torse and he wrapped his arms around your waist. "Come on in and by the way, Donnie went to by some sna-" you got cut off by Erik kissing you deeply and rough, you thought about pushing back but you kissed him back and a few seconds later, you pulled away.

"What was that for Erik?" You asked as you looked at his dark brown eyes deeply. " Y/N, I've always wanted to do that since we met through Donnie and your just so beautiful, smart and a intelligent women and I've always wanted you but never got a change because Donnie got you before me and now is my chance." Erik said then looking down and he truly meant that and I know it so I'm like f*ck it , I feel bad for him but then I'm going to feel bad for Donnie because I've been with him the longest but I'm going to give Erik a change to have me for now.

I started to kiss him again and then it got heated into a makeout session " Jump" Erik said seductively in my ear and I jumped into his arms and walked up the stairs and he was so strong carrying me and Donnie's shared bedroom, but, he threw me on the bed and hovered over me to connect our lips again.

"Strip" Erik said while standing up off the bed so you got up and took off your pajamas shirt and shorts leaving you in your laces bra and panties. Erik was already undressed and only in his briefs.

He was staring at you up and down and then said "Damn, my best friends girlfriend looking fine naked" ( omg 😭 okay keep reading ) Erik says so sexy and his body is so hot with those scars and those biceps (🥵). He pushed me on the bed and went down between my legs and looked up at me for permission , I nodded and he took off my lace panties " Damn" Erik whispered but you heard it so you smirked in your mouth( if that makes sense) and he just starting eating you out and I felt like I was in heaven on how is tongue was working my clit and his plump soft lips around my p*ssy " OH MY GOD ERIK FUCK" I yelled that anyone who was in the house can hear " I'm gonna cum Erik , fuckkkk" I said and then came.

"Now it's my turn princess" Erik said. So I got off the bed as Erik goes to lay on his back on the bed.

I crawl on the bed to meet his face and kiss him, then kiss my way down to his growing budge. I start to tease him by only putting my mouth on the tip, "stop teasing me Y/N" said Erik but I stopped teasing him after a couple of minutes then put him in my mouth.

————————————————————————

"Ughhhh yes Erikkkkkkk" said Y/N moanly loudly, "Fuck" Erik grunted while blowing my back out (omg😳) after a while I hear my phone ringing, "Pick it up" Erik said while his thrust going faster "I can't d—ooo that's fuck but okay" Y/N said while picking up the phone and answering Donnie "Hey babe"Y/N said while breathing heavily, "Hey baby so was there any particular snacks you wanted while I'm here?" Donnie said while looking through the aisles. Y/N looked back at Erik to slow down but Erik kept going "Hello?" Donnie said over phone not hearing his girlfriend speak, "Sorry I was looking for something but um yeah some—Takis chips and Oreo's please" Y/N said then whispered "fuck" after she said that because she was getting pleasured by Donnie's best friend. "Okay we'll see you when I come home, I love you" Donnie said over the phone. "Love you too babe" Y/N said then hung up and screamed "SHITT, This feels so fucking good Erik". "It's does huh princess?" Erik said then grunted. "Yes daddy" Y/N whined

"I'm home!!" Donnie yelled throughout the whole house.

TBC...

#erik x reader #erik kilmonger x reader #erik killmonger #erik killmonger fic #erik killmonger imagine #erik killmonger smut #erik killmonger x poc #erik stevens #erik stevens imagine #michael b jordan #michael b jordan smut #michael b jordan x reader #adonis creed #black fanfic writer

[fanficbarbie]

❝ therefore i am ❞

A/N: if you want to know what's going on in my personal life, read my past couple posts. i'm not going to go to much into it but i'm back. unedited so ignore any mistakes. i hope yall enjoy. ★ ˙ᵕ˙ liv

─⋆♡ chapter summary: the president’s daughter deals with the aftermath of the club. michael becomes unrecognizable.

─⋆♡ main tropes: Michael B. Jordan x Fem!OC, Rome Flynn x Fem!OC, Damson Idris x Fem!OC. Bodyguard x Princess, Secret Service x First Kid, forced proximity, forbidden love, tolerated enemies to lovers, college romance.

─⋆♡ chapter warnings: angst, 18+ black!writer, language, torture, blood, hostages, fighting, threatening, weapons, physical descriptors (brief), characters affected by symptoms of anxiety or depression, lmk if i missed something.

series masterlist ✰ faceclaims ✰ libby's cabinet ✰ spotify playlist ⋆ word count: 6.4k ⋆

I’m never drinking again.

The pounding in my head makes me feel like a military missel just rocketed itself into my temple. I groan, wincing slightly at the raw sensation in my throat. My eyes flutter open, adjusting to the soft light from the sunrise.

I look at the clock to the right of my nightstand and I am happy to see it’s only 4 a.m. I typically have weekends off from President’s Daughter duty, so I’m grateful for the extra time to sleep in.

I don’t even remember getting up here if I'm honest. Deciding to deal with it later, I slowly shift in the bed. I allow my eyes to close again, flipping to the other side. I sigh, trying to get comfortable when the nausea kicks in.

I inhale a sharp deep breath when I feel a warm hand creeping under my shirt. I moan and melt into the soft circles being rubbed into my back by the physical heating pad. Wait, did I go home with someone? 

My body immediately fills with panic thinking about the possibility of a stranger being in my bed. I almost scream when I pry my eyes open and see a sleepy Meredith peering back at me. 

My eyes widen and my breathing quickens. I mean, I’m into girls and guys, so it’s plausible we hooked up. “Did we?” I ask, nervous to lift the blankets to see the state of my clothing.

“No,” Meredith sighs, returning her hand to its place on my back.

I groan, shifting in Meredith's hold. “What the fuck happened?” I whisper, burrowing my face deeper into her armpit.

“That prick Teddy roofied you. Apparently, he and Vanessa had a bet. She’s definitely not hanging with us anymore. You don’t remember anything?” Meredith inquires, continuing to rub my back.

I inhale a sharp breath. “No, but I feel fine.” Then, I exhale, pushing on the mattress to sit up. I rub my eyes, attempting to clear the sleep out of them. “How did we get here?” I ask the blonde.

“Michael came to tell us you were leaving and I was ready to be done but Kendall wanted to go hook up with someone,” Meredith pauses and I grimace, attempting to shove the bile down my throat. “Vanessa wanted to stay so I left my guards with them, figuring Michael would keep the two of us safe,” she continues.

I pat the bed for my phone and sure enough, when I find it, it’s dead. “And then, get this. It’s the best part. He made me hold you in position while he shoved his fingers down your throat. You ate a lot tonight, girlie,” the events of the night flow into my eardrums through Meredith’s excellent storytelling.

“Wait,” I pause Meredith mid-story, “He didn’t tell you I was roofied until we were gone?” I ask, quite frankly confused as fuck.

I lift the blankets off of me, sliding out of the bed. Picking up my robe from the footboard bench, I shrug it onto my body. “Mmhm, said something about taking care of it himself,” I hear Meredith murmur.

When the words register, the blood drains from my body. “Oh, no. Mer,” I curse, quietly.

My body slowly turns around in an attempt to keep myself calm. “What?” Meredith tilts her head and asks.

I put my hands out on the duvet in front of me, leaning into the mattress. “Did you tell him about Vanessa and Teddy?” I ask Meredith. Hopefully, she didn’t and Michael is in the next room asleep. If she did, the worst-case scenario is he’s already killed them.

A puzzled look washes over Meredith's face and she looks up at the ceiling as if the answer is up there. “Yeah, he wouldn’t stop asking questions on the way back,” she tells me and my world shatters. “Do you know you snore?” she continues, unphased.

My dinner from last night threatens to come up as I think of what to do. Fuck, I don’t know what to do. What do you do when your Secret Service wants to rightfully kill someone who hurt you? “Mer, he’s an ex fucking mercenary assassin,” I snip.

Meredith's brows kit together and she licks her lips. “What’s that mean?” she wonders.

I look at Mer with a blank expression covering my face. I expected a billionaire's daughter to be a know-it-all. “Meredith, are you serious?” I grill.

Mer puts her hands up in defense. “What? I’m not in college,” she reminds me.

I nod, taking a deep breath and looking down at the crisp blue fabric. “A mercenary is someone paid to fight. Paid to kill,” I sigh.

“So?” I hear Meredith ask.

My hazel eyes connect with hers again. Meredith blinks rapidly, slightly leaning forward with intrigue. “You don’t give an addict the key to the drug lockbox,” I explain.

Mer's eyes squint and I can barely see the sea swimming around her pupils. “Wait you don’t think he’s…” she trails off.

My hand instinctively reaches out and wraps around Meredith's wrist as if she’s one of my little siblings. “Get up. We’re going to find him,” I demand, effectively dragging her out of bed.

Meredith stumbles a bit like a baby deer once her feet are placed on the floor and I start moving quickly, leaving dust in our trail. “Relax, Libby. He’s probably in his room,” she calls behind me.

I fling my bedroom door open, walking us out into the shared living room. “Mer, you gave the trained assassin whose only job is to protect me the coordinates to put a bullet through two people's heads,” I tell her over my shoulder before lifting my hand to knock on Michael’s door.

My knuckles rasp on the old oak wood before I press my ear to the door, listening for any movement. No shuffling is heard behind the door, so I try knocking once more. All I hear is my breathing bouncing off the solid material.

I turn around slowly, wide-eyed and fearful. Meredith seemingly reads my body language and her affect changes to match what I presume mine is. “Oh shit. I did didn’t I?” she asks for clarification.

Brushing past her, I grab my spare robe from the living room closet. “Yes. Now put this on,” I scoff, throwing it towards her chest.

Meredith cringes with shock washing over her face. She hurriedly puts her arms through the sleeves, pulling the fluffy garment on. “What are we going to do?” she panic shouts.

My hands begin to shake and I tuck them into my pockets. “I don’t know! Stop screaming! It’s 4 am!” I bellow.

Tears collect in Mer's eyes and threaten to spill over her lower lid. “You’re screaming back!” she screams.

“Because I’m stressed,” I explain, returning my voice to my normal level. I shut my eyes, taking slow soothing breaths that fill my lungs with the crisp winter air. “Okay, deep breaths. He couldn’t have found them, picked them up, and killed them in two hours,” I rant, trying to stay in my delusional world.

The sound of our bare feet scurrying towards the door echoes off the tile floor. “I think you’re underestimating your man,” I hear Meredith jest under her breath before I pull open my door.

When we exit the hall, the first person I see is a random security guard. He tilts his head and squints his eyes at us before reaching for the inner lining of his suit pocket. “Don’t you fucking dare,” I warn him causing him to freeze.

I slowly creep towards him until we’re standing toe to toe. “I’m just going to my sister's room. You don’t need to tell anyone. Understand?” I flirt, slowly reaching up to grab his hand that’s near his jacket.

His eyes widen and he turns a scarlet red. His palms begin perspiring, effectively moistening my hand. Seemingly speechless, he just nods before I watch his Adam's apple bob as he swallows thickly. Once his hand is placed back by his side, I release it now that my skin is covered in the man's sweat. Tipping my imaginary hat to him, I link my arm with Meredith who has been standing by, pulling her down the hall.

When we reach the door, I greet the secret service agent outside her door with a smile. Great, another fucking loophole. “Hey, is my sister in there?” I ask as sweetly as possible.

He doesn’t look down at me and Meredith. Instead, he keeps his head focused forward towards the rest of the corridor. “Yes,” the older man deadpans.

I roll my eyes, deciding to forego asking for permission. I’m already here, all I need to do is get into that room and talk to Agent Idris. “Great,” I brush past him, reaching for the door to her common living space.

It’s a lot different than my serene blue castle. The room is covered in a dark plum shade that matches beautifully with her skin tone. Although it may be depressing to look at during your first visit, the hue of the purple sparkles like a gem bringing light into the room.

My sister is a heavy sleeper, so I don’t worry that my knocking will wake her as my hand lifts. I bang on the door like a cop, pausing to listen for shuffling, but I hear nothing. “Agent Idris, are you in there?” I call through the door before reaching for the handle.

I slowly crack the door open in case he’s just sleeping. When I look in the dark and cold room, it’s empty. I swear under my breath, slowly shutting the door behind me. When I turn to face Meredith, she looks dejected. 

I grab Meredith's hand pulling her out of the joint sitting room between the two rooms. “That was just our first stop. I figured he’d take him,” I encourage her.

We exit my sister's living area, shutting the large door behind us. “Have a good morning,” I bid the agent goodbye, hoping he won’t speak a word.

He quickly tilts his head down in a moment so quickly, I almost miss it. “You too, Ms. Washington,” he mutters.

My feet nearly stick to the group as we scurry to the next location, Huddy's room. When we get to the door, I repeat the same steps with his night door guard. “Is Hudson awake?” I ask kindly.

This time the man looks down at me and shakes his head. “No,” he answers.

I smile, pulling my lips between my teeth to look mischievous to the man in front of me. “Good. I need to prank him. Can I?” I ask with hope.

He pauses for a moment, looking at his watch before looking back up at me. He seems skeptical, but I’m hoping he buys it. After what feels like forever, he finally mutters, “Sure.”

I mutter a thank you in reply before entering my brother's living area. This time Meredith thinks she knows where she’s going, and she heads straight for the door on the right. I grab her arm, softly pulling her backward. The layout is flipped from both my sister's and mine, so I understand how confusing it could be. It’s covered in red, but none of the reds match. Some are faded while some are bold. It’s like a bachelor pad for a man who doesn’t get any pussy. I wouldn’t be surprised if he has navy sheets on his bed right now.

My hand lifts, repeatedly pounding on another agent's door. This time I’m surprised to see Agent Flynn’s face. “What are you doing here?” I ask him.

Agent Flynn leans against the door frame, sleepy wiping his eyes. “What are you doing here? It’s like 4 in the morning,” he grumbles.

Trying to save your friend from making a mistake that’ll land him another 4 years with another president’s bratty daughter. Without me. “I think something’s wrong with Michael,” I sigh.

He reaches in to flick the light on in his room. “What do you mean?” he yawns.

I flinch slightly and my pupils adjust to the change of ambiance. “After the dinner, we went out to the club and I got roofied tonight by some rich kids at the club. He asked Meredith for all their info while I was passed out then dropped us here before taking off with Agent Idris,” I try my best to cover all the information tonight.

His eyes widen, seemingly registering what I’ve said. “Shit,” he swears, turning away from the door to enter the brightly lit room. It’s nice compared to my brother's decor. At least someone has taste. “Shit, why don’t they tell me anything?” he asks, grabbing his phone from his bedside table.

Meredith and I survery the room with curiosity, but neither of us dare to cross the threshold into the space. My attention turns back to Agent Flynn, whose fingers quickly tap the screen before he lifts it to his ear. “Who are you calling?” I question him.

“Damson. Mike’s not answering,” Agent Flynn responds.

My heart quickens and my stomach fills with demonic butterflies. Don’t throw up, Lib. Don’t throw up, Lib. Don’t throw up, Lib. “Do you think they’re,” I prompt Agent Flynn to answer.

Agent Flynn's body tenses, instantly giving his answer away. He looks like he needs a hug. “Yes. You better pray your little friend didn’t just nail a coffin,” he snips.

My stomach continuously bubbles and I scratch my hand with furor. The fuck are we going to do? “Two,” Meredith chirps behind us, correcting the man. 

My face mirrors Agent Flynn’s, twisting in confusion. When I turn around, Meredith is standing there unphased by the word she just uttered. “Mer, that’s a little insensitive,” I point out.

Her cheeks turn maroon and she looks down at the floor beneath her. “Sorry, but they deserve it,” she grumbles.

Agent Flynn snickers and I whip my head towards him. He puts his hands up in defense when I narrow my eyes at him. “What? I like her,” he smirks.

I stuff the urge to hit him down into the pits of hell, refocusing on the task at hand. “So where are we going first?” I ask Agent Flynn.

He raises an eyebrow at me. “We?” he asks.

I nod furiously. “Yes, we. How can I trust you’re not going to just let them kill them anyway?” I chastise.

He crosses his arms, standing firmly in place like a statue. “Because, unlike Dammy and Mike, I despise killing people,” he counters.

We stare each other down until a few moments pass. The silence is uncomfortable and it makes me want to squirm, but I won’t be the one to give in. Just when I’m about to say fuck it and go back to bed, Agent Idris groans, “Fine. I don’t have time for this. Let’s go,” he commands me and Meredith to follow him.

We exit Hudson's apartment and into the grand hallway. As we walk by guards, Agent Flynn friendly tips his head up to each of them.“Where are we going?” I ask, barely keeping up after his long stride.

“To find them,” he grumbles, taking a right towards the stairwell.

Meredith increases her pace, able to keep up with Agent Flynn’s due to the length of her legs. “Don’t I need actual shoes?” I ask him, putting my hand on the cool banister as we rush down the first level of stairs.

Agent Flynn looks up at me and his amber-colored eyes sparkle in the dim light. “No, we’re just going downstairs,” he informs us.

We get to my parent’s living area and before opening the door Agent Flynn turns around. He puts his finger up to his lips, motioning for us to be quiet. He quietly turns the nob, opens the door, and sticks his head out before entering the area. Once he’s determined the close is clear, he motions for us to follow him down the next set of steps.

I hold my breath and pray that my clumsy nature doesn’t make an appearance. All that’s heard in the small stairwell is the sound of our feet connecting with the stone steps. Once we get to the entrance hall, Agent Flynn silently greets his coworkers, refusing to haul his quick pace.

Although we’re bolting, I feel like I can breathe. There are only two more flights to go and we haven’t been stopped yet. 

We make our way towards the next staircase when Mer asks, “There’s a basement?”

“Yes but,” I begin speaking before realizing, I’m also confused about the concept of the basement. I knew about the Navy Resteraunt and the Secret Service headquarters, but not about anything else that happened down there. And since I’m sure no one else will tell me, Agent Flynn is the perfect person to explain. “Agent Flynn, wait,” I call after him.

“We don’t have time,” he grits between his teeth.

I scurry in front of him, stopping him from walking any further on the ground floor. “Agent Flynn, you will stop right now and explain!” I shout like a baby, crossing my arms and stomping for effect.

He looks down at me and smirks. “Rome,” he states.

My brows furrow and I know I’m going to have wrinkles when I’m 50. “What?” I ask.

He steps around me, heading towards the last staircase. “My name is Rome. If you’re going to yell at me, use my first name. Although I rather you be yelling under different circumstances,” he taunts, jogging down leaving Mer and me in his dust.

Mer looks at me and shrugs before following him. Rolling my eyes, I trail after them. “Michael’s gonna kill you when he hears you said that,” I call down the staircase towards Rome.

“Not when he sees you down there. Then, I’ll be dead,” he corrects.

When we reach the bottom floor, I flinch feeling the cool concrete floor beneath my feet. Rome opens the door for us, motioning for us to walk ahead of him. I’ve never been on this side of the basement. The windowless grey space sucks any life out of the area, as opposed to its warm and wood counterpart.

Meredith and I come to a halt and turn around to face Rome, unsure of where to go. He allows the heavy metal door to shut behind us before he clears his throat. “This is the side of the basement is.. How do you say it?” he asks, scratching the back of his neck.

“A torture house?” Meredith squeaks.

Rome clicks his teeth, pointing at the blonde. “Bingo. Used by the highest clearance. Us, the military,” he elaborates. 

“Highest clearance including my mom?” I ask, and Rome’s hazel eyes soften with a nod. “Has she used it yet?” I press on, curious about the state of virginity in the space after the election. I purse my lips, accepting his answer.

“I’m not answering that question,” Rome grumbles before turning his back to us. He leads us down a hall I’ve never been down before. The tight space surrounding us heightens my claustrophobia. My heart starts pounding, so I reach out and grab Mer’s hand for some sort of stability. “You alright?” she asks.

We pass various doors that I don’t dare to ask what’s behind. “Yeah, ’m fine. Just don’t like small spaces,” I confess before we take a right.

At the end of the hall, a huge metal door stands between us and something I’m not sure I’m ready to see. My feet drag while Rome quickly walks the rest of the way, unlocking the door before turning around to face me. “Are you sure you want to go in?”

I lightly throw my hand up in exhaustion. “Yes, Rome. Her friend is in there, for fucks sake,” I point out, gesturing towards Mer.

“Former friend,” Meredith squeaks out before I lightly squeeze her hand. “I mean, best friend,” she attempts to clear up. 

Rome looks back and forth at us before clearing his throat. “Libby,” he starts, putting his hand on my shoulder and separating Meredith from me. “When Mike gets like this, he’s like a robot. He turns off his humanity to get to his goal and he only listens to the people he cares about. I’m not sure how he’ll react when he sees you,” he warns.

The ice in my toes spreads throughout my body, creating icicles on my nose. He’s warning you because he could see you, and he could kill you. No, Lib, he wouldn’t do that. I wipe my nose with the sleeve of my robe, pulling it tighter around me. “I’m going to choose to have faith on this one. Now open the door,” I demand, looking up at the towering goofball.

He puts his hands up in surrender before turning and pulling the door open. The room is empty, similar to the rest of the hallway. It lacks anything but a metal chair. I rush forward into the space and just when I think I’ve got the wrong room, I look to my right and gasp.

Agent Idris is leaning against an oak table on one side of the room with his arms crossed. Behind the table sits a sobbing Vanessa. Her black mascara stains her cheeks and she’s practically bursting out of her dress. 

She flinches and I turn my head, curious to see what she’s looking at. My jaw drops as I watch Michael land another blow to the brunette man’s face. What was once pristine is now dripping with blood. His hands and feet are tied to a chair and he wiggles, attempting to squirm away from Michael’s fist.

I’ve never seen such vitriol and it’s displayed every time Michael flexes his back muscles to swing. The sight is gruesome, and I close my mouth, attempting not to vomit.

“Oh my god,” I hear Meredith say behind me. The sight is gruesome, and I close my mouth, attempting not to vomit. “I can’t watch,” I hear her add before she shuffles out of the room.

“I’m going to go with her. Make sure she’s alright,” I hear Rome say and I nod before the door closes moments later. 

I wave at Vanessa, testing if it’s a two-way mirror. My theory is correct and she doesn’t move a muscle. My attention returns to Michael, who’s now kneeling in front of the man, nodding as the man spits out a few words. He’s interrogating him, but there’s got to be a better way to do this. Especially when the kid’s dad is a billionaire. 

There’s a button with what looks like a speaker on top of it on the wall. I let my fingers trail over the cool metal before pressing down on the circle.

Vanessa’s sobs fill the space, flowing through the impossibly small device. There’s a gasp before I look up. A sinister grin takes over Michael’s face as he stalks over to his weapons, covered in blood. Michael has decided to move on to the next best thing, a bat. He grabs the wooden spear from the wall, allowing the tip of it to drag on the floor as he walks back over to my perpetrator.

Time slows as I watch him lift the bat, positioning it to rest on his shoulder. He squares his feet firmly in place; I know now is the time. If I don’t stop him now, he’s going to kill him. “Michael,” I utter and he freezes in place. “It’s me,” I choke out the best I can, but it feels like my throat is on fire.

His eyes squint toward the glass as he lowers his arm, walking closer in my direction. “Lib?” he questions with confusion.

His face twists as if he’s on some faraway planet and my voice is his only map to earth. Tears collect in my eyes, threatening to spill over my bottom lid. “Yes. I’m okay. You can stop,” I try to convince him that the route he’s taking isn’t the best.

His once-focused face turns vacant and he begins shaking his head slowly. The pace of his head increases until he’s shaking it rapidly. “No, no, no,” he murmurs as he begins to pace. “Libby wouldn’t be here. She-she’s asleep,” he stutters, talking to himself.

My head nods, even though subconsciously I know he can’t see me. “I am here, Michael,” I emphasize, trying to find the crack in his brain. “Can I come in?” I ask.

His right hand begins beating the outside of his thigh and I know there will be a bruise tomorrow. It’s almost as if he’s trying to pull himself back into his body. “No, you shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t have done this here. You shouldn’t be down here. You shouldn’t see–”

“Michael,” I cut his disorganized ranting off. He stops pacing, turning to face the glass. “You’re my guard, my secret service, mine. Whatever you do I do too, remember?” I emphasize. 

We made a deal. If we’re in this shit situation for 4 years, we’re in it together. Meaning, no making things harder on the other person. And this is the definition of making things harder.

Michael’s face begins to soften and my heart slows. I found him, he’s coming back. “No, you don’t understand,” he murmurs, seemingly ashamed of his actions.

I swallow thickly before saying, “I’m coming in,” as a warning before releasing the metal button. 

Michael’s muted pleas fall on deaf ears as I move quickly to my left, pulling open the heavy door to the torture chamber. He’s in front of me in seconds, and the sight of his blood-stained front makes me nauseous.

“I don’t want you seeing this,” he coldly grits through his teeth. His body tenses, shielding me from the sight behind me.

Those weren’t the terms of our deal, fucker. “Oh, so you were bold enough to do it but not in front of me?” I grill.

He inhales a sharp breath, bringing his nondominant hand up to scratch his scruff. “That’s not what I mean. You just got drugged and no girl should see this,” he explains before his eyes wander down to my feet. “Damn it, Lib. You don’t have any shoes on and you’re fucking naked,” he snips.

My hands go down to my robe, gathering the fabric and adjusting it. “I’m not naked and I’m fine. Best sleep of my life,” I express, crossing my arms in from of my chest and attempting to shield my undoubtedly hard nipples from him.

He rolls his eyes, stepping out of the way to bring Damson and Vanessa into view. “Did you guys get what you needed?” I ask the guard.

He nods, standing from his relaxed position on the table. “They sang like a canary in the first 5 minutes. Trying to get some pictures of you in a compromising position to sell to the blogs,” he recalls.

I raise my eyebrow at the man. “So you let Michael beat this man within an inch of his life?” I question him, voice laced with annoyance.

Damson shrugs, unphased. “What? It was fun,” he chuckles.

Rome enters the room, startling me a bit before I return my focus to Damson. Shaking my head at his antics, I open my mouth to scold him when Vanessa cuts in, “I’m sorry, Libby. I–”

“Shut the fuck up,” I spit in her face, effectively shutting her up. I bend down slightly so we’re on the same level. I want to make sure she understands every word I’m saying. “You don’t get to call me that. Matter of fact, don’t even speak. You’re not in the position to,” I fume in her direction.

Rome whistles before murmuring, “Damn.”

Vanessa sniffs, unable to wipe the snot since she’s bound to the chair. I revel in her this way. Thinking she could fuck me over. Karma is a bitch. “Stupid cunt,” I grumble.

I turn around to face the three men, deciding it’s best to pretend she’s not there so I don’t get worked up. Michael silently surveys my face and my brows knit on my forehead. Why is he looking at me like that? 

Rome clears his throat before asking, “What do you want to do?” 

What do I want to do? It’s not like killing them would go off without a hitch. Both of their parents are very prominent figures. The best thing to do now is to use them as an example. 

Hell, Teddy’s almost dead and I’ll just act like I don’t know her when people ask. She’ll fade to black and I’m sure the message will be well received all over the city. “Let them go,” I command.

Damson kisses his teeth and his upper body curls. He looks dejected that he couldn’t press on. “But we were just getting to the good part,” he groans.

You’ve got to be kidding me. Is he complaining about not being about to kill someone? “And you’ll get your good part if they ever try this again,” I placate.

I nod at Rome, signaling for him to untie Vanessa. I watch as he swiftly unties each notch in the knot. Each rope falls to the ground one by one until she’s standing from her prison. “Thank you so much, Liberty. I’m really sorry, again,” she professes.

I scoff at her fakeness. She’s never liked me and she's only pretending to for her mortality. “I’m only letting you go because I’m not a woman hater. Take this as a warning. You tried, but you failed. Try again, I won’t stop them next time. I will let them kill you, Vanessa,” I promise her.

She nods before slipping back on her club heels. She looks at me, awaiting her next instructions. “Meredith can probably take you home. You have to talk to her now too,” I gesture towards the door, beckoning her to leave.

She nods, allowing her gaze to fall to the floor before she scurries out of the room. I reach into my robe pocket, quickly texting Meredith an update so she has a full grasp on the situation, although she’s probably standing right behind the glass pane.

I’m highly aware that this is a strange place to start a friendship, but maybe it’s the start of something long-lasting. “What about him?” Rome asks, pointing to the barely human face crumpled over in the metal chair.

“Call clean up and have them take care of it. It’s almost 6,” Michael instructs before grabbing the bottom of his blood-soaked shirt. He seamlessly lifts it over his head, showing his perfectly sculpted physique. His abs could easily handle a week's worth of my laundry, irritating the stains from the fabric.

He pulls the top from his body, allowing it to fall to the floor. I’m rendered speechless, feeling it inappropriate to drool in a situation like this. Damson seemingly notices me staring and he clears his throat, causing my eyes to shoot up to the light in the ceiling.

I spin on my heels, unsure of what to do. Once we leave this room, we’re not going to be able to discuss this. There are mics and cameras in every room but the bathroom. I know some camera angles have changed to give me some privacy, but every entrance and exit is being recorded. No one moves in The White House without the Secret Service knowing. 

I almost jump when I feel a hand on the small of my back, being brought back to reality. My eyes connect with Michael’s when I lower my head and his once black irises have returned to brown. “You need more sleep,” he simply states.

I nod, unsure of what to say to the boys. A cheery goodbye doesn’t necessarily mesh well with social norms. Michael doesn’t allow me to deliberate, lightly pushing me forward towards the door.

I conceded, turning the need to think off by following his lead. He opens the door for us, ushering us through the entryway. As we walk through the empty viewing room, I look to the left one last time at the scarlet scene. My stomach gurgles, and I snap my eyes to the floor. “You sure you okay?” Michael asks, opening the next door for me.

In the grand scheme of things, I feel fine. But if I say that after being through a traumatic situation, he’s going to lock me up and throw away the key.  “I’m more concerned about you,” I disclose genuinely as we walk down the hall.

He shrugs, seemingly unaffected by his actions. “I’m fine. This is what I do,” he grumbles.

“Used to do,” I correct.

“It’s my job,” he argues and I remind him why I hate him sometimes. It’s like talking to a child.

“I don’t think revenge killing was in the position description,”

The walk back up to our apartment feels like it takes forever. The winding staircases and onlookers dare to swallow me whole. I’m not sure a barefoot and clotheless president's daughter with her shirtless Secret Service agent paints the best picture. 

My endless suggestions that Michael at least be checked out by the nurse fall on deaf ears. So when we enter the living room of the apartment, I point at the couch commanding him, “Sit.”

He raises his eyebrow at me but doesn’t make any moves to put his bottom on the cushion. “If you’re not going to let me take you to the infirmary, you’re going to let me clean you up,” I explain.

His eyes search mine for deception and I sigh, annoyed with the consistency of this game. “Fine,” he finally gives in, moving to take a seat on the couch.

I leave the room to retrieve the first aid kit from the bathroom, filling a cup by the sink with warm water so I can rinse his hands. When I get back, Michael is patiently waiting for my return, anxiously flexing both his hands.

Taking a seat next to him, I bring his hand into my lap to calm his fidgeting. “Stop doing that. You’ll keep opening and breaking the skin,” I worry.

“I was trying to see if it was broken,” he counters and suddenly I feel like an idiot.

“Oh,” I mumble, twisting his wrist to examine his hand. “Is it?” I ask.

He shakes his head, slinking down into the couch cushions with a sigh. He looks exhausted. Large brown circles darken the spot beneath his eye and I feel a pang in my chest. “No, probably a hairline fracture,” he speculates and I can tell he’s trying to ease my anxiety.

I pick up the washcloth, dipping it into the cup of water. We sit in silence for a few moments until he winces. Something’s wrong with his hand and he fucked it up because of me. 

I quickly clean the rest of his hand, eager to rid the thick sexual tension between us. This is the longest he’s ever touched me and it intensifies the fire in between my thighs. Not right now, Libby. You’re bandaging his hand. “You’ll see the doctor when we wake up,” I demand once we’re finished.

Snapping the first aid kit shut, I scoop the remnants of the bandage wrappers up with my hand. “We?” I hear Michael's question.

I nod, having already made my decision. I just need to stick to it. “Yes, we. You haven’t slept in like 24 hours,” I point out before standing from the couch.

I toss the trash into the pale blue bin on the other side of the room. “I’m fine,” Michael reassures.

“Yeah right,” I scoff before going into the bathroom. Closing the door behind me, I make sure to wash my hands before relieving myself one last time for the night. Once my hands are scrubbed once more, I apply some vanilla lotion to keep them from drying out.

When I exit the bathroom, Michael hasn’t moved from the couch. He watches me cross the room over to my door with laser focus. “Come on,” I beckon him to join me.

He shakes his head and his body becomes cement. “I’m not sleeping in the bed with you,” he objects.

I roll my eyes at his combativeness and part my lips to say, “I’m not asking you to sleep. But I can’t trust that you won't just leave again.” and kill someone.

He shakes his head but he still doesn’t make a move. Fuck, what do I have to do to get you in my bed? It shouldn’t be this hard. “I wouldn’t,” he reiterates.

“Then come, for me. Call it suicide watch,” I rephrase, hoping it’ll do the trick.

The tick of the clock fills the room and several seconds go by before a glimmer of interest sparkles in his eyes. “Fine,” he concedes, standing from the couch.

He crosses the living area until he’s standing just inside my bedroom door. I shut the door behind us, locking the door just in case Jo didn’t get the memo to not wake me up early this morning.

In the soft light of the early morning room, I shed my robe and Michael sheds his pants. Grabbing a scrunchy from my vanity, I attempt to tie my unruly hair back up underneath my bonnet. When I turn around, Michael stands by the side of my bed patiently waiting for me. He holds the corner of the duvet up for me to climb in. 

Once I’m hugged by my warm vanilla fragrance, I watch as he walks over to the other side of the bed, replacing Meredith for the night. 

My eyes blink rapidly at him, trying to adjust through the night. “Go to sleep, my lady,” he chides. 

Not having any energy to argue, I sigh, turning my body away from him and allowing myself to get comfortable in my bed. As soon as I’m settled, my body begins to give in to the exhaustion of the night’s activities. 

I begin to doze off before I feel Michael’s hand snake up my side. I hum at his warm touch, scooting back into his body. “Stay, please,” I request in a daze.

“Okay,” I hear him husk before sleep envelopes me.

Taglist: @cherrellek feedback

#michael b jordan fanfic #michael b. jordan #michael b jordan fic #michael b jordan fc #michael b jordan #michael b jordan fluff #michael b. jordan fic #michael b. jordan fanfic #mbj fluff #mbj fic #mbj fanfic #mbj #michael b jordan x oc #michael b jordan x black oc #damson idris #rome flynn #Rome Flynn fanfic #rome flynn x black reader #michael b. jordan x reader #michael b jordan x reader #michael b jordan imagines #michael b jordan smut

[noirsfantasy]

On the seventh day of Christmas...

𝔄 𝔇𝔢𝔠𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯 𝔗𝔬 ℜ𝔢𝔪𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯 𝔭𝔱. 𝟑

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 ➛ Actor!Michael B Jordan x OC!Naomi Samuels

𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 ➛ Fluff, angst

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱 ➛ 5.8K

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰 ➛ Naomi and Ashanti get into it and things go downhill. Thankfully, Michael is there to save the day and cheer Naomi up. They end up getting a bit closer than expected. Later on, Naomi learns why Ashanti is the way she is.

𝔞/𝔫 ➛ Listen, I know y'all have your opinions about Ashanti, but all I'm gonna say is, never judge a book by its cover. Also I literally had to stop myself from melting while writing this chapter! I hope you guys enjoy!

12 Days of Christmas Masterlist

Part 2 Here

"Wow! Okay, I think it's obvious that's the winner right there." James says in surprise.

"What can I say? We've just got that creative touch." I say, putting my elbow on the snowman. Unfortunately, it wasn't packed together sturdy enough and my added weight caused it to crumble and me to fall on top of it.

"Naomi!" Ashanti shouts, annoyed that I ruined the snowman. Michael rushes over to help me up as Dan, Teresa, and James all laugh at the sight. Michael is laughing a bit too, but he makes sure I'm okay and pulls me to my feet. I brush snow off my bottom and chuckle at my clumsiness.

"Oh shit, I didn't mean for that to happen." I rub my neck sheepishly and look over at Ashanti, who looks livid. "You okay, Ashanti?"

"No! I'm not okay! You always ruin everything!" She shouts angrily. We all look at her in confusion, wondering where this all came from.

"What do you mean? I thought we were having fun." I respond, attempting to diffuse the tension.

"No, you're always stealing the spotlight!" She retorts, her voice sharp.

"Whoa, calm down, Ashanti. She didn't mean to ruin the snowman." Michael intervenes, trying to ease the escalating situation. But Ashanti, fueled by jealousy and frustration, continues her tirade.

"No, Michael! She's always stealing the spotlight! Trying to be the center of attention with her stupid ideas," Ashanti crosses her arms as I stare at her, taken aback by the sudden outburst.

"Stupid ideas? This was supposed to be a fun activity. Why are you so upset?" I question, trying to understand.

"Because you always have to be the special one, don't you? You can't stand anyone else getting attention," She accuses, her eyes narrowing. "Always pretending to be all cute and clumsy, always trying to be the one everyone likes. It's pathetic, really." Her words cut deeper than expected. The atmosphere grows tense, and I feel a mixture of hurt and anger welling up inside me. Michael and Dan exchange uneasy glances, unsure what to do. Teresa tries to calm the situation.

"Come on, guys, let's not do this here. Let's just go back to having fun." She says, trying to hype us up again, but to no avail.

"No, she needs to hear this, Teresa. You can act innocent all you want, Naomi, but you're not fooling me. Everyone falls for your act, but I see right through it. You're manipulative, Naomi. Always trying to make people sorry for you." I glance at Daniel, hoping for support, but he seems caught in the middle, unsure of how to navigate this awkward conversation.

"Enough, both of you." James interjects, trying to diffuse. "You're ruining this for all of us with this unnecessary drama."

"It's not unnecessary, James. She needs to hear the truth," Ashanti retorts, her anger only growing.

"The truth? You're making baseless accusations and I'm just supposed to sit back and take it? Hell no." I fire back, my frustration boiling over.

"Baseless? Look at you, falling around like a toddler, trying to make Michael feel sorry for you. You're always playing the victim. And he's been falling for it all day," She sneers, gesturing towards Michael.

"That's not fair, Ashanti. Naomi hasn't done anything wrong," Michael finally speaks up, unable to stand her bashing me. Ashanti looks offended.

"Of course, you'd defend her. You always seem to prefer her over me," She accuses, her jealousy showing.

"I'm not choosing anyone. But I won't stand here while you attack her for things that obviously make you insecure."

"Michael, can't you see she doesn't care about anyone but herself? She's only pretending to be this interesting, edgy girl because that's the only way people can notice her. Quite frankly, it's disappointing you can't see how she's trying to manipulate you to not like me."

"That's enough!" I snap, unable to contain my anger any longer. "If I make you so miserable and you can't stand to be around me so much, why don't you just leave?" The silence is loud as she glares at me, before huffing.

"Fine! Maybe I will!" She turns and stomps off angrily, leaving the group in an awkward silence. I grunt in frustration as I watch her leave.

"Naomi, maybe you should go after her." James suggests, trying to be a voice of reason.

"No, I'm done playing her games. She wants to walk away? Fine," I reply, my tone strong. "Maybe she'll finally realize everything isn't about her."

"I'll go after her." Teresa says, leaving to follow her cousin. Dan puts a comforting hand on my shoulder.

"You didn't deserve that, Naomi. She's just... I don't know what her deal is." He says with a sigh.

"I don't know, maybe there's something else going on that we don't know about." James suggests, shrugging his shoulders.

"The audacity she has to accuse me of all that stuff, when I've had to put up with that from her since we were kids!" I frown angrily, my hands clenching again.

"Let's just take our minds off that for now. We can't let it ruin our whole day. How about we explore the market a bit more?" Dan suggests and James and Michael nod in agreement. Reluctantly, I agree, realizing that dwelling on negativity won't do me any good.

As we start to walk through the market, the vibrant lights and festive atmosphere fail to fully lift my spirits. The encounter with Ashanti keeps replaying in my mind, leaving me feeling a mix of frustration and hurt. I trail behind the boys and Michael slows down until he's walking beside me.

"Don't believe any of what she said, Naomi. She's just projecting onto you and that's not fair." He speaks softly. I sigh and glance up at him.

"I know, but it's still frustrating," I admit. His presence offers me some comfort, a reminder that not everyone interprets situations like how Ashanti did.

Meanwhile, Teresa catches up with Ashanti, finding a quieter section of the market where the snowfall adds a serene touch to the surroundings.

"What do you want, T?" Ashanti snaps, her frustration still evident.

"Just checking on you. What happened back there?" Teresa inquires, genuinely concerned.

"I don't wanna talk about it," Ashanti mutters, avoiding eye contact.

"Look, I get that something upset you, but taking it out on Naomi like that wasn't fair. She's our cousin, and she doesn't deserve that kind of treatment," She asserts, her protective instincts kicking in.

"You always take her side!" Ashanti shouts, turning away.

"I'm not on anyone's side, but I won't stand by when you're treating people unfairly. Sort out whatever's bothering you, Ashanti, before it ruins more than just today," Teresa advises before leaving Ashanti to her thoughts.

Back at the market, I'm walking with Michael as we've split up from Daniel and James. The sun has begun to set and it starts to get a bit colder. Michael smiles at me and places his arm around my shoulder as we walk, providing me a sense of warmth. He tries to get my mind off of the earlier confrontation and cheer me up.

"You know something else that's irritating?" He starts, his tone suggesting he has something to say.

"What's that?" I ask, raising an eyebrow as we walk. He takes a moment to reply.

"I haven't gotten to buy you a drink yet. A real one," He gestures to the market ahead. "We've been walking all day, so this is my chance." He grins and my eyes light up at the suggestion. I think for a moment, before cracking a small smile.

"I guess one drink can't hurt." I give in and Michael squeezes my shoulder, gently.

"Glad to see I haven't lost my charm." He says playfully, causing me to chuckle softly. "Just, this time, it's not gonna be hot chocolate. Let's change it up." I grin and nod in response. "I've got the perfect idea." Michael takes his arm from around my shoulder and grabs my hand, leading me into the market. His hand is warm against mine and he links our fingers, causing me to smile.

"It's just over here." He tugs my hand as he leads me through the crowd.

"What kind of drink did you have in mind?" I ask him. "Nothing too strong, please." I joke.

"Relax, I don't want to see you passed out on the floor." He answers before laughing. I roll my eyes and playfully slap the back of his hand in response.

"Okay, so what's this perfect idea?" I inquire with a smirk. Michael grins as we reach a small stand selling Christmas treats, hot cocoa, and other seasonal beverages before stopping and pointing towards the menu.

"Mulled apple cider." He says and I raise my eyebrows.

"I actually love that idea. They're nice and warm, but with a little bit of a kick. Love it." I nod in approval and we order two hot mulled ciders from the vendor.

"Here you go." The vendor smiles as he hands us our drinks. We all take them and move to find a spot to sit. After a few seconds of searching, we settle on a park bench away from the crowds. I take a seat and cradle the drink in my hands.

The mulled cider has a strong cinnamon smell, the heat warming the air around us. Michael sits down beside me, his own cider in one hand and the other placed on the back of the bench. We smile at each other as we take the first sips of our drinks.

"Mmmm, it's so good." I say, enjoying the warmth of the winter beverage. Our eyes meet but we go on drinking in silence. It's not awkward. We both know that we could talk if we wanted to but the peace is nice. Finally, after about a minute, Michael breaks the silence.

"Naomi..." He starts and I tilt my head in his direction.

"Yeah?"

"About what happened earlier. I just want you to know that I don't think those things about you. Not at all." He pauses for a moment as I listen intently. "And honestly, I don't think Ashanti does either. She just feels insecure about her image, and my arrival didn't make things any easier for her. But, whether she meant it or not, she's wrong about you." I didn't even realize how much I needed to hear that tonight, but his words seem to bring me some peace.

"Thank you, Michael. Really. I really appreciate it." I respond with a smile of my own. Our gaze lingers for a few more seconds, but I realize there's still something bothering me. Suddenly I turn to face him on the bench so we're sitting face to face.

"Can I admit something?" I hesitate. He nods and looks at me intently. I take a deep breath before speaking.

"I'm just as insecure as Ashanti," I confess, looking down into my mug. "I'm always trying to be cool and impressive, but I'm scared of looking dumb. It's like I'm not truly special to anyone." I glance over at Michael and I know he's listening carefully.

"My family is the most judgmental. Nothing seems to please them. I became a real estate agent, but it wasn't as good as Teresa's nursing job. I quit to be a full-time artist, and they say I'm throwing away all their hard work. Broke up with my cheating ex, and they say I should've paid more attention to him. Now that I'm almost thirty, they're nagging me about marriage and kids. What about what makes me happy?" I take a deep breath, feeling my eyes well up with tears.

Michael nods and I spill more, feeling vulnerable. "Their expectations are exhausting. I second guess every choice I make. Even if they're right, I don't want to live worrying about what people think. I want to live for me." I look up at Michael, his eyes still trained on me. I blush, realizing I've dumped a lot on him. He places a reassuring hand on my thigh.

"You know, I get it, Naomi. There's a lot of pressure on you to be perfect. But you don't have to be that. I see you for you. You're not perfect, but you're real. Don't be so hard on yourself." He smiles and takes my hand. I give him a small smile in return, grateful for his encouragement. His words resonate deep within me, creating a sense of warmth that goes beyond the heat radiating from the mulled cider. For a moment, I forget the chaos that unfolded earlier, and it's just Michael and me, sharing a connection.

"Thanks, Michael," I say, my voice a mix of gratitude and relief. "I really needed to hear that." He squeezes my hand gently.

"Anytime, Nao." He winks as he uses the nickname he gave me. "I'm happy to help." We share a cuddle on the bench, finishing our ciders. Michael breaks the silence again with a mischievous grin.

"You know," he starts, his eyes sparkling with playful intent, "as much as the scavenger hunt was a bust, there's still one thing I really wanted to check off our list."

"What is it?" I ask, my curiosity piqued. Michael smirks.

"Close your eyes and trust me." Raising an eyebrow, I decide to play along. Closing my eyes, I feel Michael taking my hand, lacing his fingers with mine once more and guiding me through the bustling market. He takes care to keep me from bumping into anyone or stumbling. As we walk, with my eyes closed, all I can focus on is the warmth and softness of his hands, making me feel at ease.

"Almost there." He whispers, excitement in his voice. A flutter of anticipation builds. The market sounds far and I realize we've steered away from it. Snow crunches under our feet as we come to a stop. "Now, open." Gasping, I find a beautifully adorned horse-drawn carriage before us, illuminated by twinkling Christmas lights in the trees. The festive carriage driver welcomes us with a warm smile.

"Surprise," Michael says, grinning that gorgeous smile as he gestures toward the carriage. Speechless, I take a moment to react.

"Michael, this is amazing. How did you...?" He chuckles, pulling me into his side.

"I saw them doing rides earlier today and I figured, if anything, this might somewhat salvage the evening." He glances over at me. "I hope you like it."

"Of course, I love it." I respond, still in shock at the gesture as I take in the magic of the moment.

"So, you wanna hop in? Or just stand out in the cold?" He asks teasingly, offering me his hand. I roll my eyes and grab his hand as he helps me into the carriage. As we get settled into the seats, the carriage lurches forward and the ride starts. As we're pulled down the snowy road, I look up and see the beautiful Christmas lights above us.

"Wow," I whisper in awe and smile brightly. "It's so beautiful." Michael smiles back and looks up as well.

"Yeah, it really is." He agrees. As the gentle rocking of the carriage and the peaceful night setting work in harmony, I feel my body relax more and more with each second.

I look over at Michael and his eyes are trained on me. I gaze back at him, noticing, once again, how striking his features are. He's handsome in such a unique way, with his deep, chocolate-brown eyes, his strong jawline, and his playful, almost cheeky dimpled grin that makes me want to melt every time I see it. He doesn't look away from me and I can't make myself look away either.

It seems like he's about to say something, but the sound of the horse whinnying as it trots on the snowy gravel draws our attention back to the moment. When we glance at each other again and I'm surprised by the intense way he's looking at me. His eyes study me carefully, as if he's trying to memorize every single detail about me; my skin, my expression, the way my lips move when I speak.

Out of nowhere, I begin to feel a bit shy, a warmth rising within me as I realize how close we are. I look back up at the lights, my cheeks turning red and out of the corner of my eye, I see Michael do the same. We sit there for a few moments, silently looking up at the lights, our bodies inching ever so slightly closer. Suddenly, I feel Michael's lips peck my cheek. I look over at him, pressing my hand to my cheek in surprise. He looks back at me, his gaze still focused intently on mine. He watches me, studying my reaction before bringing his fingers to rest underneath my chin.

"Come here..." His words send electricity through my body as he pulls me forward a few inches and presses his plump lips against my own in a gentle kiss. My eyes flutter shut as my breath grows shallow. His lips feel soft on mine and I can taste the sweetness of the mulled cider from before. Every nerve in my body sparks with heat as the world around us becomes muffled. He's tender and gentle, kissing me in a way that says he truly cares about me.

Michael pulls away for a moment, his thumb caressing my skin softly as it grazes across my bottom lip. He wets his lips slightly before pulling me back in for another kiss. This time, his touch is firmer, his tongue slipping its way into my mouth. I find my hands resting on either side of his neck, pulling him in deeper. He sets his hands on my hips, pulling me closer so that our bodies fit neatly together.

The kiss continues for a few more seconds before he finally breaks it, breathing heavily. He pulls his head back slightly as he looks at me. I'm completely speechless. I've never felt anything like this before. My heart is fluttering, my arms are weak, and my body feels like it's on fire.

Our moment is interrupted by the sound of the driver clearing his throat awkwardly. Michael turns to him and smiles apologetically.

"Sorry, my lovebirds. We're almost there, don't worry." I look up at the driver and give him a sheepish smile, my expression growing even redder if that's even possible. Before I can say anything, Michael cuts in.

"Heh. Lovebirds." He mocks the driver's words jokingly, his tone light and playful. He turns back to me and kisses my hand. "He knows what's up." I smile, feeling like I'm in a dream. We pull back to the place where we started and the carriage comes to a halt. The driver climbs down from his seat and opens the gate so we can leave. Michael gets out first and puts his hands on my waist, helping me down from the carriage. He tips the driver before pulling me by the hand to his side, wrapping his arm back around me.

"Did you enjoy the ride?" He asks, smiling down at me.

"The physical one or the emotional one?" I reply teasingly, causing Michael to laugh. "I did enjoy the ride," I admit, giving a bit of a shy grin.

"Good," he replies, his tone shifting to something more sincere.

"It's getting late." I sigh as I look at the time. Michael glances at his watch and nods in agreement.

"Yeah, we should probably get back before they start to worry." He replies, giving me a warm smile. I return the smile, turning to face him.

"Today was a lot... but you really turned it around for me. Thank you for that." Michael pulls me into a hug, his body engulfing me.

"Don't mention it. I didn't like seeing a frown on your face." He says as he lets go of me. "You look way prettier when you smile." I blush at his compliment, looking down at my feet as he takes my hand in his. He looks ahead as we make our way back to the family house, the festive lights and decorations still illuminating the winter night.

As we near the house, I can't help but to feel a mix of emotions. Today had unexpected turns, but it all worked out in the end. Mostly. As we step inside, we're met with the warmth of the home and all of the lights are off. It seems like everyone's gone to sleep. Michael and I slip off our shoes before quietly making our way up the stairs.

"Looks like everyone's down for the night," He says, peering into the hallway and seeing no lights.

"Hopefully we didn't keep them up." I whisper, trying not to make too much noise on the creaky floor. Michael turns to me, leaning against the wall as he gazes at me through the darkness.

"Hey, Nao," He starts and I look at him in curiosity.

"Yeah?" He looks off to the side for a moment, as if contemplating his next words.

"I know today wasn't perfect, but I really enjoyed spending time with you." He takes my hand in his again. "I know I've only been here for a day, but I already feel so close to you. I'm not exactly sure how to describe it, but I know exactly how I feel when I'm with you." He leans in and speaks softly, causing me to shiver. His smile grows brighter as I look up at him with affection. "And I gotta say, I'm pretty excited for tomorrow."

"I really can't tell you how much this means to me. I feel like I don't have to try with you. Everything just flows so naturally. I can't wait to spend more time with you." I reply, biting my lip slightly.

"You sleep well, Nao. Goodnight." He tells me, planting a kiss on my cheek.

"Goodnight to you too, Michael." I say back and he gives me that small, flirty nod he gave me when we first met as he turns and begins walking down the hall towards his room. I watch Michael leave, his warmth lingering as he disappears into the guest room. I stand there for a moment, absorbing the sincerity in his voice and the unexpected connection we've formed. As I enter my room, the quiet of the night surrounds me, and the events of the day play like a movie in my mind.

I take a deep breath and decide to capture the essence of the day on paper. I grab the cheap sketchbook Ashanti gave me yesterday, along with a few coloring pencils. The room is dimly lit by the soft glow of the streetlamps outside, casting a gentle ambiance.

I begin sketching, letting my hand move freely across the paper. The pencil captures the laughter, the awkwardness, the joy, and the unexpected intimacy that all came with today. The lines on the paper become a visual narrative, each stroke expressing the emotions that I experienced throughout the day. I feel a sense of regret as I recall how Ashanti and I acted towards each other. I feel grateful for the comfort I was given today.

As I continue to sketch, I am reminded just how much art has a way of helping me process my feelings. The notepad becomes a canvas for both the highs and lows of the day, a tangible representation of the emotional rollercoaster I've been on.

On another page, I capture the moment I had with Michael. The mulled ciders, the carriage ride, even our time by the fireplace this morning. I smile as I reminisce on this eventful day, feeling lucky to be where I am. I glance at the clock and realize how much later it has gotten. The exhaustion of the day catches up with me and I decide it's time to put the pencil down. I change into my pajamas and slide under the cozy covers of the bed.

With a contented sigh, I close my eyes, waiting for sleep to take me. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve, who knows what surprises it might hold. The room is filled with a quiet peace, and as I drift off to sleep, the events of the day soften into dreams, leaving behind the anticipation of what tomorrow might bring.

When I wake up the next morning, I feel sense of anticipation, eager to make the most of today. As I get ready, I take a deep breath, preparing myself for the day ahead. There's still a lingering tension in the air, especially with Ashanti, but I'm determined to make Christmas Eve memorable for everyone.

I head downstairs to find the family gathering in the living room, watching a movie. I say good morning to everyone and head into the kitchen to see if I can help. I get there to find just my aunts Tina and Pat preparing the Christmas Eve feast. I find a place to help out and smile to myself, chopping up some vegetables.

As I move around the kitchen, Ashanti enters, her eyes meeting mine briefly. There's a flicker of guilt in Ashanti's expression, a silent tension between us that, at some point, needs to be addressed. Although, I am not planning on being the one to start that conversation. She goes and sits at the kitchen table, scrolling on her phone. My aunt Tina looks over her shoulder and smiles.

"Oh, I loved that photoshoot you did, sweetie. You looked so fierce and powerful!" She compliments, putting her hand on Ashanti's shoulder.

"Yeah..." She replies, not looking up from her phone. Aunt Tina smirks and glances over at me.

"You know, Naomi, I want to apologize for the other day." She starts and I look up from my task with a raised eyebrow.

"You do?" I question and she nods.

"Maybe you're onto something with your art. At least it's better than jumping from job to job." She says, causing Aunt Pat to snicker a bit. I look over at Ashanti, who doesn't look up from her cellphone. "Ugh, the things I would do to be able to get paid to just doodle all day. Must be a dream." I sigh deeply, looking over at her.

"Aunt Tina, do you really think that art is just about sitting around and drawing whatever I want?" I ask her calmly.

"Well, honey-"

"No." I cut her off. "My job isn't that simple. It takes years to learn the skills I have. Art is a form of expression. It's like telling a story and it isn't always your own. It has a way of connecting people and cementing memories for years to come. I'm not some toddler with a crayon. To me, art is everything. Why can't any of you respect that?" I ask, gesturing to everyone in the room. My aunt Pat looks at me with a raised eyebrow.

"Mimi," She starts with a sigh, "you know we want nothing but the best for you." I clench my fist as I stare at her.

"See, that's another thing. If I'm being honest, a lot of my insecurities come from others telling me what they think I should be. I think it's time I start listening to what I want for a change."

"We're just trying to look out for you, sweetie. You're a bit reckless is all." Aunt Tina says, rolling her eyes.

"No, the problem is that you guys don't respect my choices or ambitions," I reply. "Thank you for the concern, but at the end of the day, it's my life." I say with a bit of sass.

"Whatever." Aunt Tina says, throwing her hands up. "Just do what you want. You always do anyway." Ashanti slams her hand down on the table and stands up.

"Will you stop, Mom?" She raises her voice, shocking us all. Ashanti takes a deep breath and points a finger at Aunt Tina. "It's one thing if you want to judge me and treat me like a child because I'm your daughter," She continues firmly. "But keep Naomi out of it! What she's doing is amazing and, I've got to admit, I'm jealous that she actually has the courage to do what she wants."

"Ashanti-"

"I'm not finished!" She cuts her mom off. "All my life, you've had a plan for who I was gonna be and what I was gonna do, but did you once ask me what I wanted to do? I just went along with it because I figured mother knows best. But I hate my life and I'm starting to hate the person I've become." I start seeing Ashanti in a new light, having heard this new bit of information. I'd always thought that she just didn't like me and that we were always at odds, but now I know why.

"Naomi and I used to be best friends, but because of how you raised me, I grew to despise her, when really I should've despised you. I've stood by my whole life and let you dictate my decisions, but I won't let you do that to my cousin. You have no right!" I stare at Ashanti, stunned by her outburst. I'm also a little relieved that someone finally stood up for me. Aunt Tina and Pat don't know what to say.

"If you guys are my real family, then you won't just want me to be a carbon copy of you." She says, a bit calmer. "And if you care about us and what's good for us, you'll respect our choices."

My aunts are silent, their smug expressions completely washed away. Aunt Tina sighs again, not wanting to admit that we're correct. Before she can say a word, my mom comes downstairs, wearing her best Christmas sweater. She immediately senses the tension in the room and steps in. "What's going on down here?" She asks, her tone firm and direct.

"Nothing, Mom. Ashanti and I were just leaving." I say, before heading out of the kitchen. Ashanti follows behind me and we make our way to the study.

The room is dark and quiet, Ashanti flipping on a light to see the room. The two of us share a look, the mood of the moment taking a sharp turn. Ashanti sits down on the couch, burying her face in her hands. I hesitate for a second before sitting down beside her.

"Ashanti, I'm so sorry." I offer, reaching my hand out to her. She doesn't respond right away, but she finally takes my hand in hers.

"No, I should be the one apologizing. I have been so unfair to you and I'm sorry for all I've put you through." The look she gives is one of guilt and regret. I give her a soft smile and she continues. "I've just been so angry for so long and I took it out on you. My mother would always pressure me to do exactly what she wanted me to do and I was jealous that you could do anything you wanted when we were growing up."

"Ashanti..." I say softly, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. "I never knew you felt this way. I always thought your life was perfect and I felt like I would never amount to all the things you've accomplished." I admit.

"No ones life is perfect, Naomi. All those accomplishments, they weren't mine. They were my mother's. I just went along with everything, in hopes that I would make them proud. But nothing is ever enough." She takes a deep breath and looks me in the eye. "And I want to apologize for yesterday. I didn't mean any of those things I said. Honestly, I'm not doing as well as everyone says."

"What do you mean?" I question. There's a long pause as Ashanti considers her words, trying to get them right.

"You know how everyone's been talking about how successful I am?" She begins, seeming unsure of herself. I nod, listening intently. "Well, I'm struggling. A lot. My mother doesn't know this, but I lost my modeling job. My boyfriend and I broke up a few months and I'm about to be evicted!" She confesses, a tear running down her face. "That's why I've been so mean lately. I've been trying to keep up appearances but it's stressful as hell and it's even worse because Michael's here." My eyes widen as she tells me this, the words catching me off guard.

"You don't like that Michael's here?"

"I like Michael," She says, shaking her head. "I mean hello! He's Michael B Jordan, who wouldn't like him? But ever since he arrived, Mom has been pressuring me to seduce him. I hate it, I feel like some shallow bitch who annoys everyone. I just wanted to make my mother happy, but at what cost? I'm just making a fool out of myself and it's obvious that he likes you. I'm so tired of being fake. I can tell that no one likes me." She looks down at her lap, avoiding my eyes.

"That's not true," I defend. "Yeah, you get on our nerves sometimes and sometimes you make Michael a bit uncomfortable..." She gives a wry laugh as I speak. "But we all love to have you around. You may see yourself as fake, but we all know the real you. And we love being around you. Ashanti, even when you started being mean to me when we were kids, I still was excited to see you. And I'm glad to have you as my cousin. If I'm honest, your teasing made me want to do better. And your mom may have pushed you to be perfect, but every accomplishment is yours. You earned each of them. And I'm so proud of you, Ashanti." She looks up at me in disbelief.

"Really?" She asks, a shocked expression on her face. Her eyes are filled with tears and her shoulders are slumped. "But how can you say that when I've made things so difficult for you? I've been nothing but nasty to you."

"Because you're still my cousin." I reply with a gentle smile on my face. "It's true that you can sometimes be a bit much, but I still love you. Like you said, we both got on each others nerves when we were kids, but no one's perfect, especially when it comes to our family."

Ashanti wipes away her tears. "I appreciate that, Naomi. Honestly, I really think that you're such an amazing person. I'm just really bad at saying it." She says with a faint smile. "I'm really sorry for everything I put you through before and after Michael got here. I really do love you. Please forgive me?"

"Of course, I forgive you, Ashanti." I pull her into a hug, a real one. She hesitates for a second, before hugging me back. I give her a little squeeze as I missed this feeling with my cousin. She doesn't let go for a moment, before finally speaking again.

"Hey... can I ask you a favor?" She asks, her voice soft.

"Yeah, what is it?" I reply, prepared for whatever she might ask of me.

To be continued...

#fluff #christmas #noirsfantasy #12 days of christmas #black reader #black oc #black reader fluff #black actors #michael b jordan x reader #michael b jordan #angst #angst with a happy ending #black fem reader #michael b jordan x black fem reader

[valkyrieromanoff]

MASTERLIST✨:

↳ MICHAEL B JORDAN

✦ CASTING

synopsis: you do a casting test with Michael B Jordan.

↳ PEDRO PASCAL (+ CHARACTERS)

✦ INTERVIEW

synopsis: Pedro and you have starred in a movie together, and now you have to go through the interviews.

✦ IMAGINE PEDRO PASCAL X ACTRESS!READER

synopsis: you and Pedro answer some internet questions.

✦ PEDRO PASCAL X ACTRESS! READER

synopsis: when a question during an interview makes you uncomfortable, Pedro comforts you.

✦ GUESS THE LINE: PEDRO PASCAL x ACTRESS! READER

synopsis: you and Pedro play Guess the line.

✦ LAST HOPE - JOEL MILLER X READER

synopsis: when Reader needs medicine for her little son, Joel is her last hope.

↳ HAYDEN CHRISTENSEN’S CHARACTERS

✦ JAMES KELLY IMAGINE: THE MECHANIC AND THE SPOILED PRINCESS

synopsis: (18+) your car breaks down for the tenth time and James is your mechanic.

✦ LOVE BITES: ANAKIN SKYWALKER

synopsis: you want to give Anakin a love bite but you're too embarrassed to ask.

✦ CARE AFTER THE MISSION: ANAKIN SKYWALKER X F! READER

synopsis: Anakin takes care of you after a mission.

✦ DUTY BE DAMNED: ANAKIN X READER

✦ IN THE SHOWER: ANAKIN X READER

✦ ONLY ONE BED: AOTC ANAKIN X READER

synopsis: you and Anakin have to share a room with only one bed.

✦ ONLY BEGINNING: ANAKIN X READER

✦ PIZZA TIME: ANAKIN SKYWALKER X READER

synopsis: you and Anakin decide to cook together, but the problem is that neither of you know what you're doing.

✦ WITHDRAWAL: ANAKIN X READER

✦ PINKY PROMISE: ANAKIN x READER

✦ GOOD BOY: SUB! ANAKIN X F! READER

synopsis: (18+) Anakin finds you on a dark street at the Coruscant underworld and things move at a dangerous pace.

REQUESTS

✦ BABY, IT'S COLD OUTSIDE: ANAKIN X READER

synopsis: you've been sent to Orto Plutonia on a mission, but end up trapped in a frozen canyon. Fortunately, Anakin came to your rescue.

✦ 'SOKA: CAPTAIN REX X AHSOKA TANO

synopsis: Ahsoka and Rex meet again after years apart, and sparks fly between them.

#pedro pascal x reader #michael b jordan x reader #anakin skywalker x reader #hayden christensen x reader #joel miller x reader #james kelly x reader #star wars