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starcrossedxwriter · 5 months

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Unbreakable Part 4 (Erik Killmonger x OC)

A/N: So... we're getting into the thick of the plot here! So a lot happens in this chapter - maybe too much LOL but two parts were holdovers from chapter 3 that weren't quite ready lol so this chapter ended up jam-packed. Enjoy!

***

“You know we have staff to do that?” Nakia asked while she nursed Wakanda’s new princess and Naja moved at lightning speed folding all her clothes and straightening up her nursery.

Naja merely smiled and waved off her sister’s statement. “Yes I know. But the staff could use a break every once in a while. Besides laundry and organizing are the few domestic tasks mama taught us that I actually enjoy. How does such a tiny human make so many dirty clothes? She already has more clothes in this closet than I do.”

Nakia merely shook her head and laughed. “We have to change her outfit no less than 5 times each day. And she’ll outgrow 90% of that closet by the time you leave in a month.”

Naja’s shoulders sagged a bit as she realized she only had about four weeks left in Wakanda. She had been so disgruntled about coming and now she did not want to leave. She knew she had to, there was much work waiting for her in Niganda and she missed her life there. But for the first time in a long time, she wondered whether she would miss what she was leaving in Wakanda more. Particularly her sister, her niece and her nephew. The Queen of Wakanda was incredibly busy with the new baby and her regular duties but she and Naja still made time for sister bonding, even if it was merely fawning over the baby together.

“Who knows how big she’ll be when I am able to return again. Those five years with TJ went by so fast.”

“Yes, this time will be very different though. Thank Bast,” Nakia whispered. Naja abandoned her task and squeezed her sister’s hand.

“Yes, it will.” Naja pressed a soft kiss to the baby’s head before returning to her task.

“You ever think about having one of these one day?”

Naja was thankful her back was turned to Nakia as that question hit her ears. Her eyes clenched shut for a moment as if she could block out the avalanche of emotions that started barreling down at her at the question. She had to force her fingers to loosen around the baby onesie she was holding, her tight grip wrinking the pristine fabric. However, she did not let it show beyond that as she quickly schooled her expression into one of pained laughter.

“Nope,” she asserted with a tone that made it seem like the suggestion was laughable to her. “Don’t think years of murdering people make you the mothering type. Hardly a nurturer.”

“I disagree. You were amazing with TJ during his first 5 years. You were always the more nurturing of the two of us.”

“Even if that were true, it would require me to be attached to a man for more than a night.” She winked at Nakia who merely rolled her eyes with a chuckle, always amused by her sister’s flippant attitude about sex. “And there is not a single man on this continent or Earth I am interested in saddling myself with for a lifetime.” She ignored the vision of a certain prince that popped into her head.

“There’s not a single man whose company you enjoy in Niganda?”

She scoffed. “There’s barely a man who can give me an orgasm to enjoy on a regular basis. I certainly don’t enjoy their company. They are merely a necessary means to an end.” She chose to leave out the part where many of her late night callers were men she wanted information out of for the rebellion… her sister hardly needed to know that part.

“You can’t run from love forever, sister.”

Naja rolled her eyes. Here we fucking go… A lecture.

“I’m not running from it. I’ve actively decided I don’t want it. I love this life for you, Nakia. But I… I want something different.”

Naja knew Nakia was not foolish enough to actually believe that lie. Naja had always been the one who wanted what Nakia now had, not being Queen, but to settle down and build a family once she had the adventures she and Erik discussed. While Nakia had yearned for the life Naja now had but had fallen in love with the King, which came with responsibilities she could not ignore.

Sometimes those plans haunted her as vivid nightmares of the future she and Erik planned together when they retired from their posts as War Dogs and returned to Wakanda to serve T’Challa and Nakia as advisors and raise a family together. Fifteen years later and she could still see that future clear as day, only now it mocked her for ever believing it could be a reality, for putting so much stock into childhood fairytales and fantasies that could never happen.

“Love can fit into your lifestyle, Naja. You can have the life you want and make room for love.”

“The only people I love are in this palace right now. You, your children, T’Challa, Shuri. And our parents… most the time,” she muttered under her breath. “That’s all I need.”

“I understand. I just don’t want what happened with N’Jadaka to close you off from love forever.”

“It has nothing to do with him!” Another lie. “Not every decision I make in this life has to do with what he did.” Another lie. She despised just how much of the person she fashioned herself into was because of Erik. But there were some hurts… some wounds she simply could not let go. And no one on this planet, even Nakia, knew how deeply Erik had cut her. Everyone knew he abandoned her and broke off their engagement but their last conversation? That nail in the coffin of their love and friendship? Naja had never breathed those words aloud to another soul. Every time she tried, it felt like the poorly constructed stitches holding it together ripped open and pain flowed as if he had just hurled those words at her.

“I am not saying it does. I had just hoped… since you have clearly forgiven him and you are becoming friends again, perhaps it had softened some of this. I know a future with him is not possible but that doesn’t mean getting to a better place with him will not open doors for others.”

Naja paused but this time for some introspection as she tried to find the words to describe her increasingly complex relationship with a certain prince. She had two hearts where Erik was concerned and she had no idea which one would win out each day. One was held together by duck tape, still shattered and reeling from his actions. While the other, the heart that she tried her best to ignore, yearned for him as she did air to breathe and sustenance to survive. For that heart, he was as critical to her survival as the blood it pumped through her veins. And the control over her actions and her brain ebbed and flowed between the two, toggling back and forth in ways that made her increasingly frustrated.

She wanted to hate him, her hate for him was fuel and she was not ready to let it go. Today or ever. Once those feelings were the most clear and easy aspects of her life. And now? They were murky and she found herself wanting to forgive him so she could experience the once-in-a-lifetime love he offered her again. Since he held her the other night, she could not shake the feeling it left her with, the reality of how much she had gone without in the last 15 years. But she could not pretend that the mere idea of giving into that made her feel ashamed of herself. How could she forgive him so easily? He had not even really worked for it yet. She had to make him work for it, she could not let go that easy. She would hold to the tether of her rage and pain until it broke. Because he did not deserve easy this time.

“I haven’t forgiven him… not yet anyway and I wouldn’t use the words friends. And whatever we are was not intended, believe me. I planned to go to my grave hating Prince N’Jadaka. I still might. But he’s… I don’t know. Every bit the same as I remember and completely different too. And he sees me? In a way no one else really does. So I am willing to give him a chance to earn my forgiveness, prove he’s changed. We are going out together on Friday.” She glanced over her shoulder expecting to see an excited look on her sister’s face. Instead, she saw an expression she could not read fully. Partially shock but under the surface, Naja could not help but wonder if she saw a hint of anger. Of course, Nakia was able to school her face to throw on a fake smile but Naja noticed it too fast. “What’s that look?? You think I’m completely stupid, don’t you??”

Nakia cleared her throat and shook her head. “No, no. You’re far from stupid. I just… Just be careful, Naja.”

Naja scoffed. “I’m surprised you aren’t jumping for joy. Am I to believe the ulterior motive of this whole visit was not to get us back together? Was your husband alone in those intentions? It’s not gonna happen, I don’t want that,” Not really, she added silently in her head. “I just… there’s a part of me that has to know if he really has changed? And I lost a bet,” she admitted.

“T’Challa and I merely want you and N’Jadaka both to be happy. And be able to coexist for the sake of this family. And perhaps that is best done apart. I just don’t want to see you hurt again. There are things you don’t know about him a-”

“I’ll never be hurt like that again,” Naja answered sharply, cutting her sister off. She became immediately frustrated by the insinuation that she was anything like the 17 year old girl Nakia and T’Challa had to nurse back to health like a broken bird. As if Erik or anyone could break her again. She was stronger, she was different. “I know everything I need to know about who Erik is now. We’ll never be more than friends.”

Nakia fell silent and merely nodded, though Naja could tell there was more she wanted to say. “You’re right, you’re right. Sometimes I just get overprotective.”

Naja immediately felt bad for biting her head off. This was Nakia’s job as her older sister. But Naja already felt rubbed raw by N’Jadaka’s clear advances and effort. Old woulds were open and now her own sister was questioning whether she was strong enough to withstand the inferno that was Erik once again. If Nakia could not see how much she had changed, had she really at all?

“I know and I appreciate it. But I don’t need you or anyone else to protect me anymore. I’ll be ok. I promise.”

***

Naja barely laid her head down to attempt to sleep when she got a call on her kimoyo beads. She glanced down, surprised to find a voice message from N’Jadaka.

“Meet me outside. Bring your notes and journals. Got somethin’ to show you.”

Naja could not help but stare at her beads in confusion. She had seen Erik several times throughout the day and he had not mentioned wanting to see her tonight or that he had anything to show her.

Despite all of her questions and annoyances about having to leave the palace so late, she still forced herself out of bed and back into the first set of acceptable clothes she could find. Since she worked late nights at the bar and often did her recon and other illegal activities in the dead of night, all of her clothes were designed for stealth and to hide weapons. It was all the clothes she had so even tonight, when there was no stealthing or defending to do, her light black jacket was still home to four well hidden knives and her soft black leggings held spots for two guns, which she chose to leave at home. She stuffed all of her notes and journal into a small backpack.

She slid on her soundless shoes and out of her room with a mere nod to the Dora assigned to her room. She walked through the palace and out to the landing pad, Erik arrogantly leaning against the Royal Talon.

“That was quick. When I didn’t get some smart ass response, I assumed you didn’t get it.”

“It’s not too late if you need a dose of smart ass. I always have a few in my back pocket for you.”

Erik surveyed her body, taking in her perfect curves and toned ass in her leggings. He licked his lips and winked at her. “What else you got back there for me?”

Naja stopped in front of him and smiled sweetly. “A gun… though I’d prefer a knife. But trust me, you wouldn’t.”

“How you know knife play ain’t a kink of mine, baby girl?”

Naja almost choked before she recovered with a shake of her head as Erik burst into laughter. “You’re my least favorite person on this continent, you know that right?”

“Don’t believe that for a second. Come on,” he gestured toward the Talon as the ramp opened for them to climb on.

“Does our King know we are stealing his plane?”

Erik merely shrugged as he slid into the driver's seat. “More or less. Not my first time takin’ it out for a little ride. But don’t worry, we’re just going to Shuri’s lab. So we won’t be far.”

“What’s at Shuri’s lab?” Not that she did not mind going to Shuri’s lab, she enjoyed learning from the Princess and getting to try out new gadgets before anyone else. However, she did not understand why he wanted to go there with her or what he would have to show her.

“You’ll see.”

Naja rolled her eyes before sliding into one of the seats. The short plane ride was virtually silent though the tension between them, in such a small space, was palpable. Things had somehow both become more difficult and more effortless between theme since he spent the night two days prior. The vulnerability they shared broke down a few barriers in a way Naja had not expected but she did not know what to do now. She was not accustomed to gray space when it came to Erik. They were not friends, they were not lovers but they weren’t enemies anymore either. They were just something else that she was not prepared to decipher or understand.

“So are you going to reveal the big secret?” Naja asked as they entered Shuri’s private workspace. She was surprised to not find the Princess in her usual spot. Everyone knew she did her best work in the middle of the night when she should have been resting like everyone else in Wakanda. The Wakandan Palace was filled with night owls.

“Shuri told me we could use the space at night for a while cause she’s working on a different project downstairs. Wanted to show you this,” he took her over to the giant work table which was usually covered in completed or half-finished gadgets. However, tonight, it was filled with notes and papers, treaties, aerial photos, and a giant 3-D map of Niganda.

“Whoa.” Naja’s hands started grabbing random pieces of paper. There was enough material here to keep her busy for weeks. “What’s all this?”

“Notes from the other three War Dogs in Niganda from the last year, I didn’t tell them why,” he added at the freaked out look on her face. “I just asked all War Dogs to send an update to make it seem routine. After our talk the other night, I pulled some recon photos we had from before the peace treaty talks started. Figured we could use all this and your notes to piece together some more information. And T doesn’t really come down here unless Shuri invites him so it’s a good spot to do shit we ain’t supposed to be doin’.”

Naja glanced at him with wide eyes. “You did all this to help me?”

“There’s nothin’ I wouldn’t do to help you. I know you don’t believe that but it’s true. And you ain’t in this alone, this ain’t just on you to figure out.”

Erik did not have the heart to tell her that his actions were not totally altruistic. He had his own motivations for finding a reason to end these peace talks with Niganda. His future, or rather the future he wanted, was as tightly wound in discovering what Niganda was doing as Naja’s was, if not more so.

She sighed, grabbing more papers. “I do now. Thank you, N’Jadaka. Seriously. Also a bit old school don’t you think?” She gestured to the printed papers.

“Less likely for T’Challa or anyone to notice on our tablets and shit. And stop thankin’ me and let’s get to it, aight?” she nodded with a smile before putting on her game face. “So you said the King is definitely behind the kidnappings? Any theories as to why?”

“Definitely. Witnesses report soldiers taking the kids. It’s possible it is a rogue faction of the guard doing something nefarious and they are getting away with it because most of the people will think it is the King’s orders. But King Bisi runs the guard with an iron fist, hell, most do not breathe without his command. There are claims that his mental health is waning so perhaps someone in the palace is taking advantage of that? But there are few in his court with the skill to pull something like this off besides him.” She sighed. “And I have several theories but none of them are particularly good and haven’t panned out.”

“Ok well let’s hear 'em anyway.”

She started pacing up and down the length of the table. “First I thought intimidation? You know taking the children to keep their parents in line. But that doesn’t explain the first four kids who were all orphans. And the entire country, save the rebels, are already terrified of him. And those with parents… none of them are part of the Front or involved in illegal activity. They are just regular people so that would not make sense. It could be trafficking or labor for the fields? It’s the poorest village of the Capitol and in the country so outside of those of us who live there, no one would know or care that these kids are going missing. The wealthier villages are just happy to remain in the King’s favor. The first few were from the local orphanage, the man who runs it is who sounded the alarm to Dayo initially. But Dayo ruled out trafficking. The kids aren’t showing up in those channels either. Whatever he is doing with them, they are still in Niganda.”

“Yea, and there are a lot easier ways to get bodies… prisoners, rebels. What else?”

Naja glanced up at him with a helpless expression. “That’s it. If we were finding bodies, we’d have more to go on but these kids are vanishing without a trace.”

“Anything else suspicious happened since this started?”

“Not really. Two doctors were kidnapped about a week before the kids started. But we found one of their bodies the same week so we assumed they were both dead and fell into something they shouldn’t have. We never found the body of the second one so maybe that’s something?”

“Yea but most people kidnap adults or kids… kidnapping both is uncommon. What’s the deal with this rebellion anyway?” At her skeptical look, he smiled. “Don’t worry, ain’t gon’ rat you out to T.”

“How else do revolutions and rebellions start in this world? The people have nothing and King Bisi brutalizes them while leaving them destitute. Dayo… he and a couple rebel leaders were once in the King’s court but he escaped after the King murdered an entire village who was ‘harboring’ a father who had stolen from the palace. He realized that the freedom we deserved was only possible if the king was not in power. He created the Nigandan Liberation Front to overthrow the Royal Family and install a true democracy.”

Eek could not help but hear how she used the word “we” to describe Nigandan citizens as if she was not a spy masquerading as one of them. Nor could he stop the smallest kernel of hope from blossoming in his heart. If the rebels succeeded, that nagging reminder of the promise he made that he desperately tried to forget, the reminder that his future did not belong to him at all, would be null and void.

“How likely you think that is?”

She scratched her forehead. “Honestly, I don’t know. We’re inching forward but it could be years. The King loves his grip on power. Many refuse to join the rebellion because they hold hope that his heir will be different but…”

“You disagree? You know her?”

She laughed humorlessly. “No, never met her. Gotten a glimpse of her a few times. She’s been to the village more than once. She’s known for her charity work, feeding and clothing those in need.”

Erik could hear the disdain in her voice. “That’s a good thing, ain’t it?”

“Not when she has the power to ensure there are no poor in the country to begin with. Niganda has the money for everyone to live in prosperity. Her father has chosen policies that hoard resources for him, his council, and the wealthy while the rest of the country starves. Many of the country may love her for it but I won’t celebrate someone saving lives when they are the reason the people are dying to begin with. All Princess Imani is doing is keeping the people on life support so they can continue to serve her family and eventually her interests. As far as I’m concerned, she is as soulless as her father.”

Erik’s eyes grew wide. “Damn, tell me how you really feel. Who knows, maybe she’ll be different.”

Naja did not look up from the written accounts of one of the war dogs she was reading. “Why do you care so much? It’s not as if you have to live under her rule. You met her?”

Erik fixed his face to seem as disinterested as he should be. “Only once at an event. She was a bit vain but hella independent. I’d hardly describe her as soulless. Her father? That nigga definitely. But she seemed like she wanted to do some good.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it. But that’s a ways away, unfortunately. According to the palace, King Bisi is in perfect physical health by all accounts. And despite his age and ailing mental health, the ancestors will have to drag him to whatever heaven or preferably hell is waiting for him before he willingly gives up that throne.” Silence fell for a few minutes before she paused. “Wait… this could be something. Did you read this one from… M’Badu?”

“Haven’t had a chance to read any of them. What’s it say?”

Naja stood and walked over to where he sat to hand him the papers, sliding to sit on the table in front of him. “His cover is a doctor at the biggest hospital in the Western Province, smart cover… that’s were all the wealthy go. A life of comfort as you put it. He reported that half of their supply of medications and drugs was stolen the day after the first child was stolen. Things like anesthesia, blood supply… opioids.”

“So? Could be for a black market or somethin’.”

“No, I know every major player in Nigandan’s underground… none of them have the manpower, capitol, or balls to pull this off. And they are all egotistical men so they would’ve bragged about a score this big. I never even heard this happened, which is saying something. They still small amounts with the help of doctors and nurses in their pockets to avoid attention. Whoever did this has all those things and sophistication.”

“Why you say that?”

“Because… I didn’t think it was relevant but this same hospital houses the country’s largest scientific research center and they had a break in not long ago… about a month before the first child was taken. I don’t even live in that Province and I heard about it. It was the biggest breach of security they’ve ever had. They redid the security for the entire facility and hospital afterward. So this person had to get around all of that and M’Badu said Princess Imani had been there earlier that day visiting sick children. So they had to avoid additional palace guards too.”

“Ballsy to hit the same hospital twice.”

“Not really when you know the health care infrastructure is crumbling. Biggest hospital in the country and the only significant research facility. If you want as many chemicals and drugs as you can get your hands on, this is your only option.”

“What chemicals were taken?”

“They took a bit of everything the facility had. All raw chemicals and drugs that could be used to make a million different things. Dayo and I check the black markets every night to see what will turn up but nothing of note has.”

Erik raised an eyebrow. “Does T know you frequent black markets this much?”

“He knows I check to see if there’s vibranium floating around. But does he know I go almost every night and sell what I can get my hands on? Nope.”

“What do you even have to sell?”

“Whatever I can buy with my War Dog riches without raising attention… and whatever I can steal from the King and the wealthy and give back to the people where it belongs.”

Erik was shocked, and admittedly aroused, at how nonchalantly she talked about theft. A ruthless spy indeed.

“How’d you get into that? Also you must not do much bartending on your shifts with all this extra shit?”

She let out a barking laugh and waved her hand dismissively. “No. Truth be told, I’m a terrible bartender, which Dayo figured out fairly early on. But Dayo is not a fool and recognized I had skills that were far more important to him so he keeps me around to bookkeep for him, manage the bar… flirt with men to get information. And some talents that he appreciates but won’t dare ask how I got. My speciality in the Hatut Zeraze … besides torture and murder, of course, was infiltration. When he realized, Dayo helped me start to steal from the trucks that supply the palace and wealthier restaurants with food and other delicacies. Sometimes from the houses of the wealthy. I take whatever I can and sell it.”

Erik let out a low whistle. “Infiltration… that shit’s hard. I was good at gettin’ niggas to talk but the gettin’ in and out was always my weak spot.”

She shrugged as she looked down at him from her spot. “I’m surprised. All it takes is being a good liar. And you’re the best one I know,” she mumbled under her breath before she could stop herself. She clenched her eyes closed as she saw the hurt flash across his face. “Sorry, habit.” She stood up from her perch she had taken on the edge of the table by him and moved to the giant screen they had in the room. She started writing the information they had on it.

Erik let the papers he was holding fall back onto the metal table. “My feelings for you weren’t a lie, Naja. The things we talked about, the life we wanted to have together… none of it was lies… I just… shit happened and I handled it all wrong a-”

Her hand stilled as she heard his words, painfully clashing against the narrative she had created for over a decade. Her heart wanted her to leap and fall but her brain forced her feet to remain planted where they were until he proved he could be trusted again. All of this was a good first step but that was all it was: a first step.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what? We need to talk about what happened. Let me explain.”

“Look… I want to trust you… get to a place where we can, at least, be friends again, Erik. Because as hard as I try to hate you with my entire soul… part of me will always care for you more than I should. You caught me at a weak moment the other night and I appreciate you being there for me. But nothing that’s happened should make you think the door is open for that conversation. I don’t want to hear you excuses and reasoning… whether or not what you felt was true doesn’t matter anymore. Why you left… why you said those things, none of it matters because it doesn’t change the fact that you left. All that matters is that you did it and you said it. And because of that, we can’t go back. But we can create something new… a new friendship. So all I want to see and hear from you now is something different. That’s all I have space for.”

Erik’s head fell in disappointment at her words. He knew he should not have gotten his hopes up, that he should have listened to T’Challa and not gotten his heart back invested in Naja because she would never feel the same. He knew that was not the only reason T’Challa had cautioned him to stay away but he had not listened. He never listened. And though he knew he should take her words as fact and accept the friendship she offered, he knew it would not be enough. Whatever time he had left of freedom, he wanted to spend what time he had left with her, choosing her. He also knew her better than any other soul on this Earth, there was more than just care for her too even if she did not want to admit it.

Luckily for him, Erik was as patient as he was committed. He would not stop trying and he would play the long game to continue softening that barrier between them for as long as he was able.

“Ok so…” she turned back to him, a determined look on her face as she quickly changed the course of their conversation. “We have missing kids, a doctor, drugs, chemicals, and medication. But no obvious links between any of them. So we have nothing.”

“The links are always there. We just gotta find them.”

***

Nakia stalked through the palace, an aura of anger radiating off of her so strong that the few servants walking about immediately moved out of her way as she raced to her husband’s office. She did not give Okoye a chance to knock or announce her presence as she walked inside. She had tried to not let her overprotective nature get the best of her since her conversation with Naja that morning. However, when Ayo alerted her to Erik and Naja taking the Talon for a late night joyride, she could hold her tongue no longer.

T’Challa glanced up from his tablet as the door opened and she swept in. However, his fatal error was not noticing the look of rage contorting her features.

“I will come up to bed soon, my love. I need to finish thi- what’s wrong? Is it the baby?” T’Challa immediately jumped up as he realized his wife was not there to drag him from his office to get rest.

“What part of ‘Tell Erik to stay away from Naja,’ did you not understand, T’Challa??” she exploded. No one except Nakia could yell at the King of Wakanda and the Black Panther. “Because what is happening right now is NOT staying away!”

T’Challa grimaced. “I told him to stay away.”

“What did you say exactly??”

“That she despised him and that she would never forgive him, which is true. Naja won’t forgive him so there is nothing to be concerned about.”

She shook her head as she paced up and down by his desk. “No it is not true! They are currently Bast knows where in the Royal Talon. He spent the night in her room a few days ago and they are going out on Friday.”

“Nakia…” his voice took on a chastising tone. “You can’t spy on your sister.”

“Do not take that tone with me as if you do not spy on N’Jadaka too. You knew this was going on and you’ve said nothing. You’ve DONE nothing to stop it. I will spy on her all I want when she is in harm’s way. Someone has to protect her, no one else in this country seems to.”

The jab hit exactly where she wanted it to, T’Challa’s face twisting up in indignation. “That is not fair, Nakia. I protect Naja just as I do my own sister. She is my sister in every way that matters. But I cannot stop N’Jadaka from trying to mend fences with her if that is what he wants to do.”

Nakia shook her head. “This is more than mending fences and you know it. He is in love with her and making her fall in love with him again. And you and I and he all know that cannot happen. The only person who is going to get hurt is Naja.”

T’Challa shook his head. “What we are talking about is a hypothetical situation that is 10… maybe 15 to 20 years down the road, Nakia. The King will have to die and she would have to choose N’Jadaka among a list of eligible princes. We have years before it is even a conversation and even then, it is only a possibility. The Princess does not even want to get married.”

“You and I both know that King Bisi did not raise a fool. There may be a list… but every nation on it knows that Wakanda, thus Prince N’Jadaka, is the list. If she is forced to marry someone, which she will have to according to Nigandan law to be queen, there is no one else who would give the Nigandans the power and resources they want and need other than him. Just because N’Jadaka chooses to play the fool and pretend that is not the case does not mean we have to. I am not ok with my sister’s heart being broken in 10 or 20 years either when I can stop it now. Since N’Jadaka and you have clearly forgotten, remind him of the promise he made to this country or I swear to Bast, I will tell her myself.”

“Nakia… Erik offered his life and future for this country and for us. The life he has led… what he has endured because of what Wakanda took from him… he deserves happiness. He deserves hope even if it is only for a short while. Do not ask me to take it from him. I have faith that N’Jadaka will tell her when the time is right. Before it progresses to anything serious.”

“No one deserves happiness at the expense of someone else’s. My sister deserves happiness too… with someone who can actually dedicate their entire life to her, not years with an expiration date stamped to them. I love N’Jadaka like he is my own brother and I wish for his happiness as I wish for Shuri’s and everyone else I love. But I will not allow your guilt for what your father did to hurt my sister. He broke her once and I lost her for years because of it but if he does it again, I don’t think she will be able to get back up. Tell him to stay away from her, T’Challa. I mean it. Before this ill-fated date on Friday. And do it properly this time.”

She did not even wait for him to agree or respond before she swept out of the office, Okoye peering in as if waiting for an invitation.

“I suppose you heard all of that?”

Okoye nodded. “Our queen’s voice does certainly carry when she is impassioned and angry at you. Did you really believe what you told the Prince that first night would stick?”

T’Challa’s head thudded back against the soft material of his chair, his hand rubbing his eyes. “I had hope… foolishly perhaps.”

“Seems as if there is a lot of foolish hope floating around this palace since Naja returned.”

“Do you believe it is my guilt?” T’Challa asked as Okoye handed him a glass of rum from his stash. He sought counsel from precious few people but Okoye was most certainly on that list.

Okoye sighed. “What did you tell me your father said when you saw him in the Planes? You’re a good man, T’Challa… and it is hard for a good man to be king. You want to do right by him to make amends for what your father did and I understand that. But you, who seems determined to carry the weight of his triumphs and mistakes, aren’t accountable for what King T’Chaka did, the fate he allowed to befall his own family. That was his choice and is it a shame that he did not live to take accountability for that, yes. But that how Bast saw for his life to play out. What Prince N’Jadaka lost? That is not a debt you will be able to repay, my King. Even saving his life won’t do it. And you would be a fool to try… and you are not a fool. Prince N’Jadaka must make peace with what he lost and you, my king, must make peace with your father’s role in it. But denying Prince N’Jadaka hard truths because it makes you feel better about what happened to him will do nothing but hurt him when those hard truths come to call. And they always do.”

And with those words, Okoye returned to her post outside his office and left her King alone with his thoughts.

***

“Fuck!” Naja’s frustrations got the better of her as she and N’Jadaka spent another night pouring over all their notes and information. She threw a knife at the wall, the very tip of it lodging into the vibranium. “This is hopeless.”

“We have a good startin’ point. Seems like experimentation of a new drug or chemical or somethin’ is the most likely bet.”

“Yes but what good is that if we have absolutely no way of determining what they are testing and why?”

Erik stared at her for a moment and sighed. It did not matter how many nights they spent working on this, it would never satisfy Naja until they… she found each one of these kids and returned them to their parents.

Naja was fascinating puzzle to him. Depending on the setting and context, he saw a different picture every time he looked at her. When they trained, he saw Naja, the ruthless assassin. She was everything T’Challa said: a lethal beauty… Killmonger’s equal in every way… just as cunning, pragmatic and unemotional as he - maybe more. That night in her room he saw the Naja he used to know, the soft second daughter of the River Tribe who could not wound a fly, much less murder a person. And when they stood among the low blue lights of Shuri’s lab, he saw the Naja he imagined she did not want anyone else to see: a ruthless assassin who was still felt everything far deeper than she should.

He knew the real Naja was the latter version. Just as Killmonger was not the real him nor was the 18 year old he was before he fled Wakanda. It had taken a brush with death and a year to finally come to terms with the fact that it was not an either/or calculation. The real him was the best and worst parts of all of the hats he wore. He prayed to Bast it would not take the same thing for Naja.

“Let’s get out of here.”

Naja looked at him like he had grown several heads. “You’re joking right?”

“We’ve been staring at this shit for hours every night and recycling’ the same theories. Let’s take a break. You know one night ain’t gon’ make a difference.”

“And go where?”

“For me to know and you to find out. Come on.” And with that, he walked out of the lab.

Naja stared at his back for a few moments before letting out a soft chuckle and following after him. She followed his footsteps to the elevator, which took them up to the panther opening of the Great Mound.

“When’s the last time you saw a Wakandan sunrise?” He asked as he walked to the edge of the cliff and sat down, his legs dangling off the side. A small sliver of the sun was visible over the horizon.

“You remembered?” Her entire body stilled as she looked at him.

“If I remember correctly, it was the sunrise over the falls specifically but I figured this would do too.”

While sunsets were always Erik’s favorite thing about Wakanda, Naja’s was the sunrise. Different sides of the most beautiful coin Wakanda had to offer. Naja often snuck out as a child, when she needed to calm her spirit, to the falls to watch Bast bring a new day across all of Wakanda.

“I forgot how beautiful it was,” she muttered as she sat down next to him. “Niganda has a different sort of beauty to it. But it’s not this.”

In the distance, she could see a herd of antelope racing by, the sun only barely peeking out. They sat in silence as they both stared out into the distance. Erik could tell that the picturesque landscape was not doing much as her shoulders still hunched forward with the weight of everything she felt.

“What are you thinkin’?”

“That I can’t find them…. That all these kids are going to die because I’m too much of a failure to connect the dots. ‘A wallflower who will never be quite good enough’ indeed.” The words of her father rang loudly in her head. Aside from her rage for Erik, he was the other man whose words fueled this version of her, fueled her desperate need to be the best.

Erik sighed. “You were always too hard on yourself, Naja. Never saw your potential.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Nobody here saw my potential… my father made sure of that. Nakia’s shadow and nothing more. You know he tried to stop me from becoming a War Dog? Tried to get T’Challa’s father to decline my application.”

Erik bowed his head. “Yea T told me.”

“Of course he did,” she chuckled. She brought one knee to her chest and hugged it. “I passed the trainings and tests and he still tried to go behind my back to stop me from doing it. You know that’s why I became Hatut Zeraze? Wasn’t the route I intended when I applied, even Nakia didn’t go that route. But I just wanted to spite him, prove I could do it. That I was built for it. That’s all my entire life has been. Proving I’m worthy… that I’m something to the people who claim to love me. But maybe all of you were right. I should’ve just stayed in Nakia’s shadow.”

Erik pressed his palms into the warm surface of the mountain’s cliff and scooted himself closer to her so that their shoulders were touching. He placed a tentative hand on her thigh, right above her knee, gently rubbing it.

Her breath nearly stopped at his touch, tender and loving just as she remembered. She felt everything in that simple touch. It had been too long since she let someone touch her for comfort and in the last week, she had let him do it twice. And this time, she had no desire or inkling to pull away from him.

“Nah we were all wrong. I ain’t just sayin’ this, Naja but you can figure this out. Your father’s words… my words… they don’t gotta be what you believe about yourself. You can choose to believe that you’re the woman who took all her pain and fashioned herself into a weapon, someone who people quake in fear when they see comin’. You think I ain’t heard stories about you since I got back?” He nudged her with his shoulder causing her to laugh. “You might’ve started down the road cause of me and your dad and whatever else but where you are now? That’s all you. So own that ’n use it to figure this out. You’re the smartest person I’ve ever met. Always were.”

She sighed and glanced at him. “How is that you always know what to say? It’s extremely annoying, in case you were wondering,” she added with a teasing smile.

“I always know what to say with you. But only because I’ve always seen all of you.”

“Oof… all of me? Quite the dark picture I imagine,” though she tried to keep her tone light, Erik could see it. The shame in her deep brown eyes that she tried to hide by dipping her head, avoiding his stare.

“Nah, parts of it are dark… but those parts were always eclipsed by light and vibrancy. There were just too many people contributed to dimming that light. Me included. But from where I’m sittin’, the only person dimmin’ your light ‘n doubtin’ you right now… is you. Can’t hide in the darkness forever, baby girl. Gotta let that sun rise at some point.”

She rested her cheek on her kneecap, his words settling into her mind. She did not have the words to respond to that. Or rather, she had so many words, so many feelings bubbling to the surface that she did not know where to start. Tears pricked the back of her eyes, forcing them away from him as she pushed them back down where they belong.

He did not say anything, thank Bast, he merely just took her hand, lending her as much nonverbal support as he could. She squeezed his hand gently, praying that the small gestured conveyed what her words could not. Her thanks for always seeing her even when she desperately tried to hide.

***

Only T’Challa was at breakfast when Erik arrived, an additional pep in his step despite the somber tone this day usually had for him each year. Today was finally his date with Naja and he would be lying if he said he had not strategically picked today in hopes she would distract him from the painful memories and rage he usually felt. Naja had always been his peace and solace, his place to retreat to. She still was.

Though she would never call it a date, it was close enough to one for him. To an outsider, it might not have seemed like much. But to him, it was everything. Spending the night with her, working with her every night, solidified one fact he had always known: he was madly and insanely in love with her. And her friendship was not enough… he’d do anything in his power to get her back.

“Morning,” he offered as he settled into the seat across from T’Challa.

“How are you today? I know what today is.” The words were simple, T’Challa did not even look up from his tablet as he offered them.

Erik shrugged. “Just another day like any other day.” As much as he loved T’Challa, in his own way, his father was not a subject he would discuss with his cousin. Ever. “What did you want to talk about?”

T’Challa glanced at Okoye who merely offered him a dead pan expression that demanded he get on with it. He closed the cover of his tablet and lifted his eyes to his cousin. Erik could immediately since the tension… a power imbalance that was not usually present when he spoke to T’Challa. He straightened up slightly, he was not speaking to his cousin today. Today, he was speaking to his king.

“You and Naja have been spending quite a lot of time together. Daily sparring sessions. Late night rides on the Talon. You spent the night in her room?”

Erik raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Is that a question cause seems like you know already?” He and Naja’s sparring sessions were no secret around the palace, they were often a spectacle for training Dora and War Dogs alike. Everything else was not common knowledge, though Erik knew he always had eyes on him. But Erik did not understand what that had to do with him being called to the proverbial principal’s office.

T’Challa sighed. “Do not do this, N’Jadaka. You will only end up hurting her.”

“Do what? Stop beatin’ around the damn bush ‘n just say what you need to say.” Erik’s patience was running thin, as it often did when T’Challa clearly had something on his mind but did not want to confront him. Save Naja perhaps, Erik was the only person in the entire palace T’Challa handheld like a child. Like he would pick up and run the moment T’Challa did his job as King and ordered him or told him something he did not like. But Erik was no stranger to hard truths, his life had been shaped by them. There was nothing T’Challa could say that would make him run, not anymore.

“Stop working her! Naja is not a mark or a challenge to conquer. You are falling in love with her and trying to convince her to do the same because you believe you have time. Time to undo the mistakes of the past, time to try again even if it is fleeting. You made a promise and I expect you to keep it. So stop pursuing something that can never happen.”

Erik stilled. He had made that promise to T’Challa and the Nigandans in service to Wakanda, a promise that he was assured may not even happen. Had he foolishly held onto that too tightly? Maybe.

“You told me she didn’t even want to marry. That it was unlikely given Niganda and Wakanda’s relationship.”

“Plenty of monarchs don’t want to get married, N’Jadaka. But she will because it is her duty. And marriage alliances are one way to cement peace, which puts your name at the top of the list. Frankly,” T’Challa sighed. “You might as well be the only name on the list. I’m sorry… I should’ve been more clear when Naja returned about this. That is my fault.”

“Wait, wait. Nah, nah, nah. T, I’m just… I’m just gettin’ her back. This is a once in a lifetime shot. Don’t ask me to give her up. Retract my name from consideration. Please.”

Erik Stevens had never begged another human being in his life, his pride would never allow him to do such a thing. However, for Naja? Pleas were all he had to over, pleas that T’Challa would give him this reprieve as his cousin and not his King. He could not give Naja up, would not give her up.

“The peace between our countries is fragile as it is, N’Jadaka. Any perceived or real slight could tip the scales. I know it is not fair, I know it is not right. And I am sorry. But you made a promise when we offered up your name that you would serve Wakanda’s interests if chosen. And as your king, I expect you to uphold that. Whether it is 5 years or 20 before she is queen, you are as good as engaged to her. You need to start acting like it.”

“So what do you want me to do?”

T’Challa sighed and clenched his eyes closed before saying, “Stay away from Naja. Temper your feelings for her so you can fulfill your duty when the time comes. You can do whatever you want with your life and your heart until then but Naja is off limits.”

“That an order?”

T’Challa stood up and walked over to Erik, placing one hand on his shoulder, which he immediately shrugged off in frustration. “I tried to warn you once as your brother and hers. I hoped the knowledge that she still harbored such anger toward you would be enough to keep you away. But I was wrong. I give you a long leash, N’Jadaka and I do it because you have proven yourself worthy of it. But yes. On this subject? This is me ordering you as King. Do not continue to foster feelings you know you cannot act on. Stay away from her.”

Erik’s hands curled into fists. Those were two things he could not do. “Why’d you even offer up my name when you knew she lived there? If she had not come home, were you ever gonna tell her that the man she despises would be her King consort one day? That I would be leading the country she calls home. Were you ever gonna tell me that the woman I loved more than anyone on this planet was living in the country you offered me up to like a prized horse? I didn’t know where Naja was when I agreed to this but you did… and you said nothing.”

“At the time, I did not owe either of you that information. And I did not say anything because your dedication to this country should outweigh whatever childish feelings you still harbor toward her. Beyond that, Nakia wants Naja here… home with us. I will not pretend as though I do not see this eventuality as a way to push her toward returning here for good.”

“You’re talkin’ about me workin’ her like a mark? As if you aren’t usin’ this shit to manipulate her into comin’ home. Just like you did to get her back here in the first place. She deserves the truth. She can handle the truth ‘n make her own damn decisions.”

T’Challa scoffed. “Bold of you to say as if you did not abandon her and throw a grenade behind you as you went.”

“That was different,” N’Jadaka rose from his chair, his rage getting the better of him. “And you fuckin’ know it.”

“Hardly. You found out the truth of what happened to your parents and instead of trusting Naja with it and what you wanted to go do, you destroyed her to ensure she would not follow. You did not see what Nakia and I saw after you left. It took months to piece her back together. Nakia refuses to see that happen again. Better you hurt her now before she grows too attached to you again.” It will hurt her but it will not break her.”

Erik shook his head, finding his cousin colder than he had ever known him to be. He was not talking to his cousin who was basically his brother. He was talking to King T’Challa, son of King T’Chaka indeed. “That’s cold, T.”

“I know… and I take no pleasure in it. I would love for you and Naja to be what you once were. I will even admit that I may have considered it a blessed side effect of her return when I invited her back. But I am King and that means I must often act contrary to my whims of my heart and do what is best for Wakanda. And whether T’Challa, your cousin and brother, likes it or not, what best for Wakanda is that you are free to secure this alliance between Wakanda and Niganda when the time comes. You and Naja’s feelings and complicated relationship do not supersede what Wakanda needs to survive or what this continent requires to avoid another needless war.”

Erik could not stomach to hear another word. He stood up with such force, his chair screeched loudly against the marble floors. “Yes, my king,” he sneered before marching toward the door, his breakfast forgotten. However, when he got to the door, he stopped. “Your father chose Wakanda and politics over family ’n we all know how that turned out. Thought you would’ve learned from that nigga’s mistakes but I guess you’re more like him than I thought.”

And with that, Erik stormed out.

***

Erik fiddled with his kimoyo beads, dreading what he had to do. Words could not describe how much he hated T’Challa in this moment. He was well within his rights as king and things had only gotten this far because Erik allowed himself to have hope - a fool’s errand really. But here he was and now he was going to have to break his own heart and Naja’s again. He hated himself for it. But he had forced himself to hurt her once to fulfill a selfish need for vengeance. He could do it again for his country. He had no choice.

This was not how he wanted today to go. On today of all days, to have to lose another person he loved, it was too much.

He pressed the button of his kimoyo beads, calling Naja. He hated how quickly she picked up, a soft smile on her face.

“Hey,” he offered.

“Hey… you ok?” She asked. “You sound weird? You better not be calling me to cancel. I let Shuri drag me to get a manicure and pedicure for this…. Painstaking shit if you ask me. I adore her but that girl basically wants to dress me up like a damn doll. I drew the line at her taking me to get my make up professionally done.” At his silence and the grimace on his face, she frowned. “Oh you are canceling.”

“Yea, I’m sorry.” She clearly tried to hide her disappointment, the deep frown that overtook her features. He did not understand how he did this all those years ago. It felt like the worst form of torture to make himself do this again. And as he struggled to find the words, he realized he couldn’t. So like the coward he was, instead of telling her the real reason he needed to cancel, he said, “T’Challa just dumped a bunch of shit on my plate for the peace talks and it’s pretty time sensitive. Will keep me busy ’n workin’ late for a while. A-and honestly… just havin’ a really shitty day. Wouldn’t be much fun anyway. Figured it’s only right to free you from your debt.”

She chewed on her lip for a few minutes before saying, “No worries. Your work and Wakanda comes first and I’m sure you’ve been falling behind since spending every night helping me. All good.”

“I am… really sorry, Naja. I hope you believe that.”

“I do. Still have time for our sparring session tomorrow?”

He could hear the hopefulness in her voice. And that hopefulness felt like a beacon of light in a hopeless situation for him, proof that she felt everything he felt. He lowered the beads so he could not see his face and clenched his eyes closed. He knew he should say no but he heard himself say, “Yea, we’re still on for tomorrow.”

He could see the small sigh of relief she let out. “Good. See you tomorrow, Erik.”

He offered her the same refrain before ending the call and tossing the beads across the room in frustration.

***

Naja paced back and forth outside N’Jadaka’s wing. She knew the Dora stationed there was eyeing her as if she were a madwoman as she muttered to herself while holding a picnic basket and a backpack.

“What are you even doing here?” She whispered to herself. It took all of two minutes after hanging up with N’Jadaka to realize why he had cancelled, to remember that today was his dad’s birthday. She did not even know how she remembered it, a memory so buried deep in her brain that she was shocked she was able to retrieve it. Every year on this day, Erik distanced himself from everyone and everything without a word.

One year, when they were 15, she found him at the Great Mound watching the sunset. He had disappeared and T’Challa, Nakia and Naja were sent to find him and bring him back to the palace. Naja, who knew him best, was the only one who knew where he’d be. She did not approach him at first as he sat there quietly, she just watched him. Like a creep, admittedly. But she watched him, took in every bit of his lean teenage form as her heart ached for him more than it should at that age.

Her heart broke as she heard his deep youthful voice, cracking with the strength of his sobs, offer a prayer to Bast on behalf of his parents, prayed they would come back to Wakanda soon, that they would return to him. She remembered bowing her head as she prayed for the same thing on his behalf. She had never met Prince N’Jobu a day in her life, just knew him as a traitor that most of the country hated, who was likely on the run to avoid facing the consequences of his treason. But even back then, Naja could not believe that was the full story, could not believe that N’Jobu stole what he did for selfish reasons, that he was just a traitor.

And that’s why she was now standing outside his door with a picnic basket feeling rather foolish. But resolved to do what Erik had done for her a few nights ago, show up for him. Because everyone deserved someone to show up for them in their darkest moments.

She bowed her head to the Dora who shifted to the side to allow her to knock. It only took a few moments before he swung his door open.

Naja lost the ability to speak as she took in his perfectly tone chest, the deep V that led down to his most formidable and tantalizing weapon. Her brain and the reason for her visit disappeared as a cloud of lust hazed everything.

“H-Hi.”

“Hey, everythin’ ok?” He wanted to scream at her that she should not be there. She could not be there. This was the opposite of distance. But try as he might, those words refused to surface.

“Y-Yea, yea. Everything’s ok. I just… well, I know you didn’t cancel tonight because of work. I know what… I remember what today is. Your dad’s birthday. And if you want to bury yourself in work, I understand. But I figured you could use a friend while you do it. So I brought snacks and liquor and work of my own. And I have Boyz in the Hood queued up on my tablet, which I doubt is still your favorite movie. But I do remember you mentioning your dad liked it so… I thought we could watch while we work.”

She lifted the backpack and basket in her hands as if to ask him if she was allowed inside.

This woman, he thought to himself. Something inside him wanted to break down in tears at her thoughtfulness. And before this moment, he was not even sure his body still produced those.

“Guess it’s my turn to be shocked you remembered all this?”

“Well… tell anyone and I’ll have to kill you,” she joked. “I remember everything about you too. Much to my chagrin, I suppose. So can I come in?” She asked as she balance back and forth on her heels.

Right then and there, Erik knew he had an impossible choice to make. He could do what T’Challa demanded and be the Erik that destroyed her or he could be the man he wanted to be. And the man he was and wanted to be loved this woman beyond comprehension, adored her beyond comprehension.

It was a gamble, a gamble that could cost him her and everything he wanted. But a relationship with her was worth risking everything for… war, damaging his relationship with T’Challa… he did not care. She was worth every risk in this world.

So then and there, he decided to hell with T’Challa. Fuck his orders, fuck marrying some woman he did not know because of a promise he made years ago. Even if it took every day of the next 20 years until King Bisi was with the ancestors, he would dedicate his life to finding a way out of that promise so he could be with the only woman that mattered in this world. The only person that mattered in this world.

“Only if there’s some lime cake in that basket?”

Her entire body, which was weighed down by her nervousness, seemed to lightened as she walked in past him. “As if I’d bring anything else??”

“You didn’t have to do this. I’m sorry… for canceling on you.”

Naja waved her hand. “I know I didn’t have to. Probably shouldn’t have. But I lost a bet. Besides, this is way better. What would the Wakandans say if they saw their most feared assassin at dinner with their beloved prince? We’d never live the rumors down. Can’t have anything destroying my… how do you Americans say it? ‘Street cred?’”

“I thought I was Wakanda’s most feared assassin?”

Naja tilted her head as if she had to think about it as she sat down on the giant couch in his living room. “Second… did you forget how I was beating your ass on the mat everyday?”

“You forgot what bet you lost to earn this date, baby girl?”

“Beating me twice hardly means anything when I’ve beat you no less than 30 times.”

“Touche.”

He settled on the couch next to her as she pulled out all of their supplies and poured him a drink and hit play on the movie. “Remember when we used to sneak bottles of rum from my dad’s collection?”

He let out a barking laugh. “Yea I remember you bein’ scared as fuck too. Goody two shoe ass.”

“One of my endearing qualities back then. Afraid to steal,” she threw back her head and laughed. “Oh if the 15 year old me could see me now.” She straightened up and raised her glass. “To our 15 year old selves? Maybe they be forever shocked and dismayed by our crimes and debauchary.”

“Cheers.” He chuckled, the first genuine laugh he had all day before clinking his glass against hers.

They did not talk much as the movie played and they both did their “work,” which really was stealing glances at each other and Naja commenting on the movie, which she had not seen since she last watched it with Erik.

“Can I ask you something?” She asked him as the movie credits rolled. “It’s ok if you don’t want to answer.”

“Shoot.” Erik brought the glass to his lips.

“Did you ever find them? Or at least what happened to them?”

His hand stilled. He did not know how to answer that without opening a conversation that she explicitly told him was off limits. He never talked about the truth about his parents, let everyone save T’Challa, Queen Ramonda, and Nakia believe what the rest of the country believed: that his parents had dumped him at the border and disappeared with their fortune from stealing vibranium and selling it to the highest bidder. When he thought about the real story, he found it difficult not to fall back into that vengeful 18 year old he was when he left.

“Yea,” he cleared his throat and sat up. “Didn’t have to look far, they died not long after they dropped me here.”

She did not seem deterred by the sharpness in his tone as she grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “I’m sorry. I know you doubted it back then but I… I believe that they would’ve come back for you if they could have. Would have faced up to what they did for another opportunity to be with you.” She paused. “Everyone’s fighting to get back to something. And you were worth fighting to get back to.”

Naja did not let go of his hand or break the stare between them as they gazed at each other, their work long forgotten. Erik tugged on her arm, Naja offered him no resistance as his superhuman strength pulled her gently into his lap. His hand cupped her face as he stared into her eyes and saw his future. As breathtakingly beautiful as a Wakandan sunset and sunrise, he saw everything he wanted in this world, his first real shot at happiness.

“You’re what I’m fighting to get back to. No matter what gets in my way or how long it takes. Rhoqo ukutshona kwelanga nokuphuma kwelanga ubomi bam bonke.”

Tears glistened in Naja’s eyes as she heard his words.

Every sunset and sunrise for the rest of my life. As long as she lived, she never forget those words. The words he had said when he proposed, an eternal reminder that they were two sides of the same perfect coin.

“N’Jadaka…” she breathed.

The sound of his Wakandan name on her lips drove him insane. Whether a plea to stop or continue, he could not hope to care.

Every fiber of her being, down to her very cells begged her to fall. The sea was right there, the water felt warm and safe and like everything she had ever wanted. And yet, her feet were still planted. Something still made her hesitate.

And Erik could feel it, every ounce of her that warred with the other. Every cell in her body that pushed her lips to meet his and every other one that begged her to retreat. She was not ready yet, he could feel that… see that. And that was ok. They would have time, he would make sure of it.

He forced himself to muster superhuman self control and stop himself. He pressed his forehead against hers for a moment, Naja letting out a deep exhale.

“I want…” she whispered, her voice breaking with the weight of everything she felt for him and wanted to feel for him. She wanted him so badly but she did not want to regret it tomorrow. “I want you so badly. I’m…” she lifted her eyes to the ceiling. “F-fuck if you ever tell anyone I uttered this, I’ll kill you. But I’m scared. Fucking t-terrified. A-nd I’m j-just not…”

“I understand.” he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “For as long as it takes. I meant that shit.”

“I’m sorry… I should go.” She started to move when he halted her.

“Stay.” At her weary expression, he amended. “I don’t need that. But I do need you… stay.”

Naja nodded, there was no resistance left. Erik shifted so he could lie down and Naja laid between his legs on his chest. He pulled a blanket around them and pulled her in tightly as he cued up another movie on her tablet for background noise.

“And I know… no one can know ‘n this don’t change shit between us,” Erik’s deep baritone filled her ears.

“No, this time… it changes everything,” she whispered back before closing her eyes to go to sleep.

Erik watched her sleep for almost an hour, her soft snores reaching his ears. He did not need much sleep so he merely let movies continue playing while he watched her, committing every feature on her face to memory. Once she was deep enough in sleep, Erik slid out from under her. He lifted her into his arms and carried her to his bed. He was surprised she stayed asleep through all of the movement, most spies he knew could wake up at mere shift of a body next to them.

However, before he joined her, he quietly snuck to his front door, easing it open. He leaned out, getting the attention of the Dora assigned to him.

“Teela, remember that favor you owe me?” Erik asked lowly, referencing a mission he and the Dora went on to recover vibranium not long after he returned, a mission in which he saved the young Dora’s life. She said she would be indebted to him, a debt he never thought he’d need to call in until now.

“Yes, my prince.”

“As far as Okoye ‘n that nigga T are concerned, you ain’t seen Naja here tonight or any other night. You got me?”

The Dora sized him up for a few minutes, Erik could tell she was weighing the pros and cons of keeping a secret from her superior and King for the prince. However, thankfully, she merely nodded and saluted him, her nonverbal agreeance to his words.

“Preciate you.”

And with that, he closed his door and returned to his bed. Tonight, he would not think of how he would hide what he was doing, tonight he would not think of how he was going to help overthrow the very monarchy he was promised to, tonight he did not think of how he was going to hide a potential engagement from the slumbering woman next to him. Tonight, he merely reveled in the feeling of Naja in his arms and the peace she brought, a night where his heart was calm and at ease.

Tag list: @miyuhpapayuh @pipsqueak-98 @injerafiend @themakingsofdion @lishabaybee @certifiedlesbianbaddie @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @dangerous-history @roguekiki @mysteryuz @shyblackgurl

***

A/N: le sigh... everybody's lying to our girl smhhhh lol so hopefully you caught the couple hints in chapter 3 that Erik was keeping some secrets. But hopefully you also caught the hints that his impending nuptials are not the only secrets he is holding back. So what do you think? How do you think this is going to blow back on him? Cause you know it will lol Drop a comment and let me know what you thought! Thanks for reading!

#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

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theunderneath · 4 months

Text

Read a few pages

Walking over to one of the tables in the room, your gaze wandered over all of the papers. You felt a little overwhelmed by all of the papers.

Jumping as a loud thud rang out into the mostly quiet cabin. You quickly turned around and sighed just seeing a book that fell off the table.

Walking over to the book, you picked up the thick novel. It didn’t seem to have any title.

Running your fingertips over the leather cover you wrapped your fingers around it and turned. You watched as the book open revealing what looked to be an index for this house.

(Some of the links for the bigger fandoms couldn't fit all here, so just click on the name and it'll take you to its own master list)

Anime

One Piece

Golden Kamuy

Hetalia / 2p Hetalia

Bleach

Yandere Aizen with a chubby Darling (Headcanon / EDITED)

Yandere Ryuken Ishida headcanon (EDITED)

Yandere Kisuke Urahara Kisses (Headcanon / NSFW-y / EDITED)

Yandere Ichigo cuddling with his Darling (Headcanon / EDITED)

Yandere Kisuke Urahara headcanons (NSFW-y / EDITED)

Demon slayer

One punch man

Most likely to least likely to give their S/O an aphrodisiac (headcanon / Sweet mask, Fubuki, Garou / NSFW / EDITED)

Garou, Fubuki, and Zombieman Darling want to play the Pocky game (Headcanon / EDITED)

Haikyuu

Nanbaka

Hunter x Hunter

My Hero Academia

FMA/Fullmetal Alchemist

A conversation about Greed being a yandere

Jujutsu Kaisen

Toji with a sassy plus-sized Darling (Headcannon / EDITED)

Poly Yandere Gojo and Geto with an S-grade sorcerer reader (Headcannon / EDITED)

Ouran highschool host club

Dress Up Darling

The Apothecary Diaries

The Ancient Magus' Bride

JJBA / Jojo's Bizzare Adventures

Darling Dearest Fashion Art

Darling Dearest Expressions Art

Black Butler

Bucchigiri?!

Marvel

X-men

Yandere Erik Lehnsherr with a reader that has the same power as him? (One shot / EDITED)

Slashers/Horror movies

Games

Danganronpa

Overwatch

Yandere Hanzo headcanons (EDITED)

Resident Evil

Twisted Wonderland

Genshin Impact

Other media

SCP Foundation

Creepypasta

Yandere Masky x touched starved fem reader (Headcannon / EDITED)

Yandere Masky headcanons (EDITED)

Yandere Hoodie and Eyeless Jack headcanons (EDITED)

Others

Meme about blog and post

Yandere meme (Guess I’ll die)

Do I do platonic yandere?

Fanart of other people's OC (ONE, TWO, THREE)

Old OC art

Old creepy art (ONE, TWO)

Meme about SCP and my blog

100 follower special

Fanart of the white dear

Self-made art of another artist's rendition of this blog username

An artist rendition of this blog username (reblog)

Me simping over another OC called Fox (art)

Shit post Hearts Day (art)

Yandere short story

Lookism

Viral hit

Manager Kim

The index you hold in your hand closes. Your eyes feel heavy from how much reading you just did. There is not much to do now.

You could rest, maybe eat some food in the kitchen, but you have a suspicion if you leave the house and return at a later date. There might be more wonderful stories for you to read.

However, the choice is yours. You could mark this cabin on your map to return to or close the door on this chapter to continue on your journey unburdened.

The choice is yours.

#yandere marvel #yandere hetalia #male yandere #yandere 2p hetalia #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere one piece #yandere x reader #yandere x you #Masterlist #Yandere one piece #yandere creepypast #Yandere scp #yandere bleach #yandere

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mbakubabe · 1 year

Text

Blood and Steel

Edit: I was gonna make this a series at first but now that I think abt it, for now it's gonna stay a oneshot

Ok look I know I'm writing another series and all but I just had to write this too. I'll get the next chapter of Bound for Gold out soon I promise (smut is hard ok 💀)

Vampire!Erik x Black!Female Oc

CW: Penetration, oral (female receiving), some edging, biting, cum. 18+

She tried not to react when she felt his breath fanning over her quickening pulse.

"Elmoira," he murmured, pressing his fangs to her neck-not hard enough to pierce the skin, but still-

Every single piece of advice she'd ever gotten when it came to hunting echoed through her mind, but when she felt him pressing up against her like that, his dark eyes staring into her own-all of it...went away, until it was just them and a cheap bed in a downtrodden hotel.

One moment, he had his tongue down her throat, his calloused hands up her shirt, and then they were both naked, Erik's muscly body above hers.

The way he moved was rough, almost desperate-for what exactly, Elmoira didn't know.

But she did know that it felt good.

So good it was hard to control herself, she kept having to bite her lip to keep from moaning aloud.

Erik seemed to take that as a sort of challenge, starting to leave wet kisses along her inner thigh.

Elmoira huffed. "Really taking your time with this, huh?"

Erik just smiled up at her-then delved in, and Elmoira tried to clutch at the sheets, anything that'd distract her enough so she'd get her bearings. It didn't work.

He licked a strip up her clit, starting to lap at her cunt like a man starved.

"Ah," she gasped when he swirled and flicked his tongue, fighting harder and harder to stay quiet when he did it again. And again.

Her breath caught in her throat and she almost whimpered when he started to fuck her with his fingers, wanting to get angry (and failing miserably) when he grinned at her again.

Except this time, it was more...hungry. His gold-capped teeth shone more brightly, his fangs more pronounced.

He added another finger, rubbing where his tongue didn't reach, and Elmoira felt her body shake, that familiar feeling in her stomach, and it took all she had to resist the urge to grab him by his locs and ride his face until she came.

Erik sped up, suckling on her clit like it was water and he was a man in the desert, his fingers fucking into her faster and faster-

"Cum," he said, face and fingers still in her pussy.

That sent her over the edge, hard. She didn't care about keeping quiet anymore.

Eventually, when she was a panting mess, barely starting to recover, his face was above hers again, and she watched as he licked her cum off his lips, smirking.

"I'm not done," he grunted, his thick, dripping length at her entrance.

Elmoira opened her mouth to speak-only to be abruptly cut off when he pushed into her, the words dying in her throat.

She clawed at his back, nails grazing over the small scars he'd carved into his skin. He seemed to like that, though, suddenly locking their lips together and groaning into her mouth.

The cheap bed was creaking, and normally, Elmoira would slow down a bit-but right now, all she cared about was the feel of him in her, the way his dick plunged into her sensitive, wet cunt, over and over again, until the sounds of skin on skin and his jumbled combination of English and Xhosa was all she heard.

She felt it coming, her eyes damn near rolling to the back of her head, but Erik slowed. Elmoira sobbed. His thrusts were still hard and agonizingly steady, but he'd slowed. Purposefully, too, guessing from the smug look in his eyes.

"You-you," she panted, trying to fuck back into him, get him to stop playing with her.

"Yeah?" He didn't smirk, but she saw the glint in his eyes.

Elmoira stayed silent, and he slowed down even more. She resisted the urge to sob, to beg. That's what he wanted.

She lowered her hand to her clit-and he just stopped her, her hand in his iron grip, continuing to fuck her with that same-

"Erik-"

"What?"

"I need-" she breathed, her voice sounding more like a plea.

"Need what?"

She could tell by the way his voice rasped and how his hands kept that same bruising grip on her body that he was struggling. She wanted him to break.

So she bit him. Right in the neck, where his blood should've been flowing, but wasn't.

"Fuck!" He picked up the pace immediately, hitting all of her spots over and over again, grunting words in a language she didn't understand.

His dick was practically in her stomach now. Too deep it was almost painful, but it was so good, he was so good-

She came, forgetting how to think for a minute, and he fucked her through it, his strokes getting more sloppy.

"Don'-not inside," she panted, and he pulled out, painting her stomach in his release.

They lay there, breathing heavy. Until his dick got hard again.

A few hours later, they were thoroughly exhausted. Erik went to sleep first, while Elmoira just laid her head against his chest.

Elmoira felt his heartbeat. That's funny, she thought. She didn't think vamps had a heartbeat. Or were capable as being as warm as Erik was.

When he woke up in the morning, she was gone, wondering what the fuck she'd been doing there in the first place, and why she felt that annoying ass, all too familiar squeeze in her chest.

#erik killmonger #killmonger #erik stevens #erik stevens x black oc #killmonger x oc #killmonger x black oc #black panther #black panther fanfiction

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hearteyes-for-killmonger · 2 years

Text

Held Up

Here's another SP00KY SZN fic! This one's short and sweet. 👻 Ever been to a gas station at night?

BTW is there anyone I'm not tagging who WANTS to be tagged in my fics? Let me know.

Part 2

Pairing: Erik x OC

Tags: Smutless, Robbery

When the car powers off, the chill from the nippy winter air begins to set in. I lock my car doors and go in for my first shift at the JifTrip, a small gas station off the exit in rural Lexington.

"Graveyard?"

"Janine?"

"What are you doing out here?"

"Picking up the overnight shift.. I thought you worked across town."

"I do," she pauses, "Did.. Well.. It's a long story."

I nod rounding the register to get into the booth, around the thick plastic barrier. The cozy heat from the heater hits me instantly and she smiles at my pleasantly shocked expression. I was prepared for a cold and uncomfortable night.

"That heat feel good, huh!"

"Who you tellin! How do I check in?"

I hate to be ask too many questions but it's my first day. She's good about it. She gives a rundown of everything to know, do, and expect including how to work and unjam the register. Apparently it likes it rough.

"You don't have to stay, it's getting late," I hint giving her the option to go home before the sky gets any darker. Being out at night isn't safe for anyone, much less a beautiful woman. Much less a black woman in Lexington. "Good thing about an overnight is you don't deal with too many people. I should be fine."

Even now there aren’t many cars outside or people inside. I only noticed about three different people in the store. One was only buying gas.

"You sure," she lingers, but I insist.

"Get home safe."

"Bye Graveyard."

I watch the surveillance camera feed counting exactly how many people are in the gas station while Janine grabs her things to walk out. She gets as far as the door two trucks, one red and one black, zoom up a little too quickly, not bothering to park in a space. Confederate flags wave from both ends of the truck beds.

"Janine!"

She seems to have the same thoughts as me, running back.

"Just hang out for a minute." I duck and push her head down. "I hope I'm wrong but something don't seem right."

"Did you see the flags?"

Voices carry into the store and I put my finger over my mouth hoping she'll stay quiet as we listen from behind the counter.

"Late night snacks," one loudly mocks as a loud group of white men take over the store, spreading out. "Woo!" Gunshots.

Janine flinches and I cover her mouth fast. I had a feeling and now it looks like we're both in for a long night.

"Here piggy pig pig," the voice stalks around the aisles, firing again. Janine is breathing too hard, too loud.

I mouth to her that she needs to calm down now.. and turn off her ringer. Her eyes go wide and she takes out the phone but it's dead. It doesn't light up. I roll my eyes. I don't even have mine. There goes the idea of calling for help. We're on our own.

The men in the shop are knocking shit over and breaking glass. They laugh and joke, like they're drunk or unhinged. It sounds like they're smashing the slurpee machine with a bat or something.

"Heard there was a jiggerboo in this gas station! I haven't seen any! Wonder where she could be?"

I look at Janine to stay still and quiet, but she's already frozen. Looks like I have to take the lead. I try to get a look at the security camera footage without getting up but she shakes her head with a hand on my knee mouthing that I shouldn't be a hero. Someone has to look.

I get a quick peek counting five men in rubber masks and three dead customers on the ground. It's a sight to see, one I can't readily explain to Janine though she's looking to me for answers. I sit back down and shake my head putting up five fingers for five assailants. I could take one but I can't take five men by myself and they have guns.

Janine is still panicked but she's silent.

I close my eyes to think and when I open them she's looking at me for directions. OK. I mouth to her that we gotta move and quickly. I get close to her ear to whisper.

"Follow me. Crawl and stay low. Let's get to the back room and lock ourselves in. They're gonna see us and when I run, you run."

She nods. We have a plan, now it's just up to me to get us there. I peak once more at the surveillance camera to see the guys looting and drinking the beers from the freezer. I have to wait until the opportune moment.

I start crawling when they walk to the dirty magazines tickled that they would be there, like ancient times. Janine is behind me and I hope she's okay, their conversation makes me think if they saw her she'd be in worse danger than me. These men are pigs. I check back and she's watching me. I stop, pointing to the mirror in the ceiling corner. We gotta avoid it or go by fast. This is where we get in a position to run for it. "Stay low," I tell her and before we can waste too much time I run.

"Woo! Lookie what we got boys!"

Gunshots whiz over my head but I can't look back, I have to trust that she's behind me.

I make it to the storage room and she nearly pushes me out the way trying to dive in but she makes it. I slide the bolt locking us in from the inside. They bang on the door from the outside but they can't get in.

"It's like a panic room," I sigh releasing the breath I've been holding all this time. It's cold as fuck in here.

"It is a panic room. We're in the middle of nowhere, you don't know what'll happen."

I look at her.

"I wasn't thinking straight, I panicked," she responds to my unasked question. Why the fuck wouldn't you say anything? I go with my next question.

"Why the fuck would you even take this job?"

"I heard about it from a friend. It was a sure job and it was supposed to be easy. Free snacks, free drinks. They even offered to pay me more because I know Breanna," her eyes roll. "I'm a college student, Erik. Why did you take the job?"

"I work a shift at the prison.. this is close."

She looks like she wants to ask more, but the situation we're in is taking priority.

"How are we supposed to get out of here?"

"We have to wait 'em out," I sigh. "I did not sign up for this shit, I could've stuck with the prison."

"Erik?.... I'm scared."

She looks scared. I'm the man so I have to be strong for us both. We can't both be scared. The banging on the door continues so I move us away from it and cover her ears to the lewd insults and invitations.

"I'm fine," she moves my hands away. "Distract me.. Please."

"Uh.. Tell me about a good memory, a time when you were truly happy."

"I have a lot," she nods. "Disney World. I was eight and seeing Minnie was like meeting Beyonce. I still have her autograph, for memories," she laughs quietly.

"You have a beautiful smile." I blink and look away, not trying to freak her out.

"Thanks..," she pauses. "Well, what about you? What's your good memory?"

I think about it. I haven't had that many. Still, there's one that sticks out to me.

"It's probably the time.. Nah, I probably shouldn't share this one," I laugh.

"No, share it! Please tell me," she hangs on my arm looking up at me. I look her in her eyes thinking how beautiful she is. I wonder if she knows or if she thinks so.. Or if I'm her type.

"I got real drunk one night.. and.. I tipped a cow.. with my friends..," I admit watching her eyes widen but she laughs.

"That's fucked up!"

"I know. My friend fell face first in a cow patty and the farmer came out with a shotgun. We had to hop a fence.. drunk. My friend still covered in cow shit." I laugh all over again. "He said he wouldn't drink again after that, but he's still drinking and carrying on."

"Your friends seem wild," her brow arches.

"Yeah," I smile. "They definitely make life interesting. What are your friends like?"

"Well, we like to party and club. So I guess they're not that far off. I have a friend, Caroline, and she's like your friend but she gets drunk and dances on tables."

"You drink?"

She gets shy, tucking her face-framing curl behind her ear.

"I indulge," she smirks. "Maybe a little too much sometimes. Guess your friends and my friends should get together and hang out."

"Or just you and me," I suggest. "When we get out of this I'm getting the biggest, juiciest, medium well steak.." I can picture and taste it.

"Now that you mention it, I am STARVING."

She walks over to a big box finding box cutters and slices it open pulling two bags of Lays Sour Cream and Onion.

"Don't be picky, this is steak for now," she tosses mine and sits on the box.

I catch it. I wouldn't complain anyway.

"Wonder what time it is.."

I'm not sure but it's definitely been over thirty minutes.

"You think they took the money from the register?"

"I know they did. Wouldn't you?"

I listen through the door and it sounds quiet, like maybe they left.

"Don't open it," she says. She's probably right.

I sit on another box and eat my chips.

"Erik, I'm glad you were here with me though it’s fucked up at the same time. I don't know what I would've done on my own."

"Just keep your phone charged going forward. People are crazy, especially white people. We in Lexington."

"Yes we are," she sighs. "This town ain't for me, I need city life."

"I knew it. You're a city girl. What you doing with these country bumpkins?"

"Same as you. Tuition out here is cheap. So is rent."

"Ahh, the trap. That's how they get you here then when you get here it's townies, farms, and cow shit."

She laughs. "I've seen you on campus. Wonder why we never talked? All I know about you is they call you Graveyard because you work all graveyard shifts."

I know exactly why we never talked. I wasn't on her radar. A part of her saw and possibly still sees herself as better than me in the social hierarchy. She fits in with Becky's whereas I stay to myself.

"Usually it's the most uneventful shift," I smirk. "Guess that's out."

"Erik," she pauses getting my attention. "I'm gonna level with you."

"Ok?"

"I gotta pee really, really bad.."

I laugh.

"I'm serious, I need to pee but I don't want you to watch and I don't want you to think of me differently, these are desperate times. Promise you won't look."

"At you peeing? Janine..," I shake my head.

"Okay I'm going, don't look!"

I turn away and wait until she's sitting down again.

"You can look."

I hear something outside the door and put a finger to my lips once more to listen. Sounds like walkie talkies. I listen more closely and Janine puts her ear to the door.

"It's the cops!"

I look at her and she looks to me. I nod for her to go ahead. She bangs on the door.

"HELLO? IN HERE, HELP!!!"

I help her slide the bolt and crack the door. Cops are standing around. We walk out and see the mess left behind. The place was trashed. I lead Janine away from the customer bodies on the ground and cops speak to us taking our statements. It's obvious we work here and we were hiding for our lives they can even watch the surveillance if it's still there. I stick with Janine until they let us go. I know I'm not staying.

We both check the parking lot when we walk out. The police car should be a deterrent.

"You alright to drive home," I ask to make sure before I pull off.

She nods and looks at her car and back to me.

"Hey," she pauses. "So uh, about that steak?"

I smile.

She rushes back into the gas station and comes back with a scratch off and her number written in pencil.

To my surprise she plants a kiss on my cheek.

"Bye Graveyard," she smiles.

I watch her start her car and I wave as she gets safely on the road. Then I get to my car and pull off finding my cell phone where I left it in the glove compartment with my glock.

I gotta tell my boy Stucky about the shit that just happened to me. Luckily he's still with the boys so I only have to say it once.

"E," he laughs, drunk as ever, "We got the money! We got the money!" He didn't learn from the cow patty in his face. He burps and Jason takes the phone. "God dammit Stucky, what did you eat? So what happened? Did it work?"

"Barely," I smirk. "One kiss, thought she'd have fucked, I was wrong."

"Guess you're not as smooth as you think you are. You owe me $20 I'm taking it outta your cut."

"Whatever, I'm seeing her again. $40 says I fuck this time."

"One hour! All you got is a lousy kiss!"

"It's $40! Bet I fuck her brains out.. Bet me."

"You won't," he teases. "I want picture/video evidence!"

"Easy!"

I text Janine while I'm driving to tell me when she makes it home.

@ogbritbrat @dashhoney25 @lettidarawest @soufcakmistress @ljstraightnochaser @princessstevens @eye-raq @thiccdaddy-mbaku @destinio1 @iamrheaspeaks @hidden-treasures21 @bidibidibombaclaat @forbeautyandlife @blowmymbackout @misspooh @thotyana-in-this-hoe @localtrapgod @purplehairgawdess @thegucciwaffle @miyuhpapayuh @ladymac82

#original #erik killmonger #killmonger #erik stevens #erik killmonger fanfiction #erik stevens au #erik killmonger imagine #black panther killmonger #black panther fanfiction #SoundCloud

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truglori · 3 years

Text

Homebody (Ch.1)

Summary: Amiyah is the younger sister of local drug dealer (Durkio). Shy and reserved she keeps to herself and stays out the way. But lately she began to find interest in his right hand man/ best friend (Erik Stevens). Wanting to get him to notice her she discovers that he already had her wrapped around his finger without even trying! There was only a few problems that kept her away from her fantasies , her brother that controlled almost every single breath she took and would kill anyone who looked at her that way and lastly Eriks girlfriend, Alexis , who they called the queen of the hood according to her lavish lifestyle as well as being with the next newest top boy in the making. While Alexis was his girl to the streets all Amiyah wanted to do was be his Homebody...

Durkio Faceclaim

Alexis Faceclaim

Amiyah Faceclaim

Pairing: Erik Stevens x Thick Black OC

Warning: language

Kicking off the covers from her legs for the fifth time that night Amiyah flipped over on the left side of the bed relieving herself from pressure that she felt on her right shoulder.

Picking up her phone she saw the time of 12:46 am. It wasn’t the discomfort she felt in her sleep or the extremely warm temperature of her room that woke her up. It was the blaring from her Durkio’s speaker that was gifted to him from himself as an early birthday present. She was cool with it the first couple of times, seeing as she used it as well to play music whenever she wanted to clean her room but this was starting to become annoying.

In the next five hours she had to be up early to open the clothing store she worked at. Durkio likes his music to be played loudly but for some reason tonight it was blasting.

Getting out of bed and slipping on her black UGG Tasman slippers Amiyah went to open the door and was met with the aroma of weed.

“Damn I guess the music isn’t the only thing that’s loud.” She tiredly giggled at her own humor.

Took Her to the O by King Von was the choice of song that woke her from her beauty rest. Shaking her head as she folded her arms she walked down the hall of their shared three bedroom apartment to see the dimmed living room foggy.

Swatting away the smoke she walked closer to the couch preparing to get onto her brother.

“Yo Durk, you know I have to get up for work in a few hours. Can you turn the speakers down or off please?”

Amiyah coughed through almost every word. She didn’t smoke so whenever she inhaled the air would hit her baby lungs causing her to react.

The music level turned down. Finally what seemed like forever the smoke was clearing the living room so she could see the face of her brother...or who she thought was her brother. It was Erik.

Leaning forward he put out his blunt on the ashtray, then he dusted off any remains of falling ashes from his dark grey Nike sweatsuit he rested his elbows on his knees.

Looking up at her with hooded eyes he licked his lips and the famous “sober up wipe” to the face followed after.

“Damn that’s my bad Miyah. I was in here just letting my phone play. I woke you up?” He asked with a small smile.

“Yeah a lil bit but it’s okay.” She spoke in a soft voice that was different compared to the tone she poke in before she found out it wasn’t her brother but her brother’s best friend and also..her crush.

Awkwardly standing there with her arms going back into their folding position making herself feel secured once she cover her tummy she decided to walk to the black leather recliner on the left side of him sitting down. She found herself being really close to him unlike any other times. Inhaling the air she could smell his cologne mix with the weed.

“Um, where’s Durkio?”

“He went out to the car to grab something real quick. He’ll be back.”

Erik got up putting everything that was laid out on the coffee table up. From the bags of weed by the pound to three glock 17s that was sprawled out everywhere. He knew this wasn’t new to her or anything but he wanted to be respectful to his partna’s lil sister. Even though he was the only child he knew that if he did had a baby sister he would want his boys to show the same respect.

Amiyah watched his every move. From the way he gave his sweats a tug around the inner thigh area giving him some room to breathe down there to then observing him pulling up the sweats before he sat down.

There she was doing it again, acting like a little stalker over this man. But she couldn’t help it. She found herself crushing on the best friend of her brother really hard. She was introduced to Erik at the age of seventeen. Just getting out of high school while her brother was already making a name for himself in the streets at twenty-three.

Durkio was coming up from being know for having the best exotics in the hood, some untouchable shit. He started to get more exposure and also more enemies. So along came his homeboy Erik, standing 6’3 and about 225 lbs solid. By the age of twenty-one he was already known to be a problem. Hot headed and a crazy mouth to match but also in a strange way quiet. It was like he knew when to turn it off and on. She notice that whenever she was around the duo he would be barely audible and sometimes completely quiet when she would walk into a room. Taking only glances at her and continued to keep it pushing.

Maybe that’s what she liked about him. Not only did they share the same characteristics when it came to not saying a lot while around others but he also didn’t try to put up a front in front of Durkio. His other homeboys did too much by just talking excessively to her about nothing while trying not to say the wrong thing too her to stay on the good side of her brother.

Amiyah wasn’t the only one doing some studying. Erik didn’t take his eyes off of her from the moment she stepped into the living room. He watched the twenty-one year old face turn from hard to soft as soon as she seen it was him in the place of where her brother usually sits.

Even through his hooded eyes he caught her covering her stomach and setting herself up in a defensive position, something he notice she always did when he was around. To Erik it seemed as if she was doing it because she wasn’t comfortable around him so he stopped his eyes from wandering over her body and other times not acknowledging her other than a head nod.

He already knew how his mans Durkio felt about his little sister. He was going to kill whoever did her wrong, let alone even looked at her like they had a problem. In Eriks eyes Amiyah was considered hood royalty. It wasn’t all talk either. A few months ago there was a young recruit that tried to get Amiyah’s number, who clearly wasn’t interested turned him down in the most modest way. Youngin tried to show out in front of his friends and slipped up and called her a fat bitch.

Once word got to Durkio he had the whole hood searching for the kid and when he found him, not only did he have the dude friends jump him my nigga literally fed him a bag of dog shit and made him eat it. Swallowing every drop.

“Yeah nigga you like to talk shit so you gon eat this muthafucka! You lucky I don’t get one of ya own mans to pop yo ass folk!”

Erik shook his head inwardly laughing about how the whole situation unfolded in front of him. Durkio was one crazy ass nigga! That’s why they was best friends though. Their personalities just matched.

Even though Erik to himself wasn’t official in the game a lot of people seem to think so. But that wasn’t the case, to him he felt he was just heavily associated with the ones surrounding it. Guess you can say his name got caught in the wrong mouth and they titled him without knowing the facts. He didn’t care though, he figured people was going to think what they wanted about him anyways so why try so hard to prove them wrong.

“Erik.” Amiyah looked over to seem him leaning back into the couch with his hands in his hoodie pocket. He was smiling to himself about something. She wondered what.

“Wassup.” He answered nonchalantly giving her his undivided attention

“Do you know how long he’s been gone?”

“Oh I’m not sure, I think five minutes or so. You want me to leave or something?” Erik asked on edge ruffling up his dreads a bit not wanting her to feel guarded in her own home.

Truth was Amiyah didn’t care so much about her brother’s whereabouts. She wanted to use these few minutes alone with him to feed her fantasies. Imagining just them two in his home not worrying about Durk busting in on them.

“No of course not. You’re good. I-I was just being nosy.” She tried her best laughing the nerves away while mentally face palming herself for stuttering.

Erik smirk. He could see the quiver in her bottom lip when she spoke. She was trying to hide it but it wasn’t working.

“Nah I feel you. You work tomorrow?” Deciding to spark up some conversation to help her relax with him.

“Yeah I open the store. So I have to be out of here by six in the morning.” Pushing her back against the recliner lifting one leg under the other she made herself cozy.

“Bella Ella Boutique right.”

Her eyes flickering at the fact he knew where she worked.

‘So he must pay attention to me.’

Is what she thought. If it wasn’t for her golden brown skin complexion she would be sure that Erik would know that she is blushing.

Along with a head nod she gave a small smile answering quietly. “Yeah that’s right.” She shifted her eyes not wanting to keep to much eye contact.

“You like working there? How long has it been by the way?” Resting his elbows on his knees once again, facing her, he gave her all his attention.

Placing her hands between her thick thighs to help calm her nerves she put her eye back on him.

“It’s okay...it’s just I wish they would hurry up and hire some new people already. Like I’ve been working so many hours and-“

She stopped mid sentence once she heard him chuckle.

Lightly giggling herself she shook her head. “What’s so funny?”

“You.” Erik swiping his bottom lip with his tongue before giving her a small smile.

This was the most he heard her talk this much in a while. Usually she would only say hi and bye and then every now and then ask about her brother but tonight she was keeping conversation like they were friends.

“Why am I funny? What I say?” Curious to know the reason.

“It’s nothing bad mama I just never heard you talk this much before. You be acting mad quiet around me.” Leaning back putting one arm at the top of the couch and resting the other on top of his crotch area.

Amiyah took in his form.

Did he just call me mama?

She couldn’t help catching his nickname.

Hit Different by Sza started playing softly in the background.

“Okay but you can talk to me too. I’m not the only one with a voice Erik.”

“You right and I’m a change that for you. When I come around I’ll start addressing you more. Is that good?” Staring into her soft brown eyes searching for an answer.

Playfully rolling her eyes trying her best to subdue her smile.

“Whatever-“

The front door open revealing her brother. Holding a bag of Burger King eating some fries.

“Aye my bad nigga I had to get sumn to smack on- Miyah fuck is you doing outta bed?” Durkio stop rummaging through the food once he saw her.

Erik scooting down further away from her towards the middle of the couch not trying to give his crazy ass any ideas.

“Uh Durk last time I checked I’m grown.”

He looked at her like she had four eyes.

“Girl you better quit acting like I ain’t raise damn near by myself. You bet get yo ass back in that bed fo’ yo ass miss work then you gon want me to pay you for the hours you miss.” He sat the bag of food down next to the ashtray that held about four roach blunts.

“Nigga she only out here cause I was blasting the music. I woke her up.” Erik winking at her defending her.

Her thighs clenched up at the small action.

I know he did not just make me wet by winking at me?

Of course this was only due to her inexperience. She never got pass kissing a guy and even that she felt needed some work.

Knocking her out of her thoughts her loud brother spoke again.

“Erik I don’t need you sticking up or lying for her and nigga where the fuck my weed at?”

He got up checking the cabinets pulling out a half ounce before looking back to see that his baby sister in the same spot.

“Miyah why you still here?” He asked breaking up the bud.

To people on the outside it may seem like Durkio was a mean brother but he really didn’t mean her any harm. That was just always how he was. He had a rough demeanor, so when he spoke it could come off offensive if you didn’t know him but both Amiyah and Erik knew that was just his mannerism. But all in all he loves his baby sister.

She smacked her lips. “I can’t hang out with y’all?”

“No. Hell is wrong with ‘dis girl?” He asked his friend chuckling.

Erik silently laughing at the bickering siblings. He unwrapped the whopper that he got from the bag before taking a bite while closing his eyes and savoring the grilled burger. Fast food always hit different when he was high.

Shaking her head she decided against arguing back and forth with her brother. She had to get up in a few anyways so it was time for her to head back to bed.

“Whatever I’m going back to bed. Night. Night Erik.” Getting up from the couch making her way out the living room area she turned to look at the duo one last time.

She caught Erik looking her up and down before giving her a head nod acknowledging her and mouthing a good night.

Disappearing in the hall and back into the room she sat on her bed replaying the conversation over and over which brought back the memory of his scent. Somehow she could still smell him as if he was right in front of her.

Smiling to herself she got up checking the time on her Apple Watch on her nightstand that read 1:34 am.

She had a few hours to get some sleep. Taking a last glance at herself in the mirror she realized she still had on her light blue silk bonnet the whole time in front of Erik.

Nooo.

Laughing at the embarrassing thought she shrugged it off before sleep took over her body again.

___________________________________________________

Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten Part Eleven Part Twelve Part Thirteen

Hey guys this is my first story on here. Haven’t wrote in a while and so I just wanted to try it out again just to see if I still have it in me lol. I have a few ideas for this story but I’m not sure...anyways let me know what you guys think. Constructive criticism is allowed here.

P.s If I tagged you I probably read your work or I just want to see if you would be interested in this story. If you don’t like it I can take you off so sorry if you might not be interested.

Please excuse any mistakes if there are any. Thanks!!

@supersizemeplz @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @hearteyes-for-killmonger @artisticestheticreads @uzumaki-rebellion @blowmymbackout @chaneajoyyy @thehomierobbstark @thiccdaddy-mbaku @curls-and-crosses @madamslayyy @goddessofthundathighs @eriksjournal @erikslulbaby @wakandamama @wawakanda-btch @wakandas-vibranium @wakandaforeverwrites @ghostfacekill-monger @killmonger-dolan @killmongerkink

#erik killmonger #erik stevens #Erik smut #black panther #Erik x plus size reader #Erik x thick OC #homebody #killmonger fanfiction #killmonger x reader #truglori

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ilyasorokinn · 2 years

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DANDELIONS , andrei svechnikov (prologue)

note, this is part of the waves series which is part of the heartbreak season series. here's the masterlist if you're interested. if you’re confused as to who kat is, check out the waves series, whose story is linked in the masterlist above. another link, a huge thank you to @tysonjost-taylorsversion for helping me like a few months ago (maybe?) with planning out this story. and this story will probably be shorter than “waves” was. pair, andrei svechnikov x oc (aurora darling) summary, the epic love story of aurora darling and andrei svechnikov. warnings, alcohol consumption word count, 657 words

(gif not mine)

September 2020

Aurora Darling had absolutely no idea what she was doing. She was in a brand new city with a brand new job and had no idea what to do, "How're things in the land of Caniac?" Kat joked.

"Haha." Aurora rolled her eyes, "They're fine. The co-worker I was telling you about, the guy who wears bowties every day, he invited me to a game."

"Ooh." Kat winced, "Bowtie guy? Are you gonna say yes?"

"I don't know. I'm trying not to get involved with co-workers this time. I don't really want to have to move all over again." Aurora sighed, digging through the boxes of her life as she tried to find her computer charger.

"I get it." Kat sighed, "But it's time to move on. I know what Voldemort did a number on you, but Rory, it's time to move on."

"I know." Aurora sighed, "Good news about that hockey game is there are other co-workers going too, so I wouldn't be alone with bowtie."

"That is good news." Kat sounded hopeful.

"Look, I gotta go. I can't find my computer charger and it's driving me crazy."

"All right, I'll talk to you soon. I love you, Aurora Darling."

"I love you, too, Kat Foley," Aurora smirked.

A few days later, Kat found herself at PNC Arena, wearing an Aho jersey and a Canes hat. She kind of felt like she was betraying Erik.

"So," Bowtie guy, whose actual name was Jude asked, "You having fun?"

"Yeah." Aurora nodded, keeping her eyes on the ice, "Tons."

"Hey, Aurora, a few of us are going out after the game. You wanna come?" Another co-worker, Dorthy who Aurora had sort of become friends with, offered.

"Yeah, sure. Just might have to dip early cause I have some stuff to grade."

"All good." Dorthy smiled.

Even later, after a win, Aurora was seated at the bar, sipping her drink, "What's a pretty girl like you sitting here by herself?" A man with a very thick accent asked.

Aurora winced, "That was disgusting."

"I know, it was pretty bad." The guy looked uncomfortable too, "I'm sorry, that was bad. It sounded better in my head."

She laughed, "I'm Aurora."

"Andrei." He laughed, "Wow, letter twins. A and A."

"Nice to meet you, Andrei."

"Nice to meet you too, Aurora." He sat down next to her, "So, do you want to go out with me sometime?"

"You are very bold."

"That's a good thing." He shrugged.

"You're sweet, Andrei, well, you seem sweet. But my answer is no." She shook her head, going back to her drink.

"What? Why not?"

"Have you never been told no by a girl or something?" She shook her head, "Just no. I don't have to give you an answer on why I'm not gonna go out with you. You take no as an answer, and if you can't, then I'll scream. Your choice." She shrugged.

"Wow."

"Too much?" She asked.

"I mean, I got the message."

"Good." Aurora smiled, grabbing her bag and walking out of the bar.

"All right, today, we're gonna do reading time a little different today. We're gonna have some friends join us."

"Which friend, Miss Darling?"

"Us." Aurora looked up startled as she watched as almost half of the Carolina Hurricanes roster walked through her classroom.

She stood up in shock as she tried to digest what was happening, "Whoa, you know the Canes, Miss Darling?"

"I, uh..."

"Are they gonna read to us?" Another student asked.

"We sure are." Once she finally composed herself, she explained what was happening, she began calling each student, one-by-one, to pick who they wanted to read with them.

Once every student was called, she slumped down at her desk, "Do you need some help reading, Miss Darling?" A familiar voice asked her.

"Ugh!" She groaned.

"I've certainly never had that effect on women." Andrei joked.

my taglist: @sydnikov @2manytabsopen @joelsfarabees @paintedbleue @juuuuuse @fallinallincurls @audryaho @tysonjost-taylorsversion @punkharts @particularnarry @sports-queer @ejsbootycall @Besthockeyfics @mrspowers @stars-canucks @dreamsndior @radiantroope @juliasvechaho @Janey_Deaux @2kidcrew @itisawitchesworld @mellany1997

add yourself to my taglist!

first chapter dropping march 30, 2022

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aadmelioraa · 2 years

Text

First Line Tag Meme

Rules: List the first line of the last ten (10) stories you published. Look to see any patterns you notice yourself, and see if anyone else notices any. Then tag some friends.

tagged by my beloved @wildwren <3

1. A Certain Likeness The Last Kingdom, Aethelflaed x Aldhelm, Aldhelm & Aelfwynn, s5 Canon Compliant (BEWARE SPOILERS)

When Aethelflaed wakes she’s in Aylesbury.

2. Survivors Vikings: Valhalla, Emma x Godwin, Canon Divergent

The metal cuffs which secure Godwin’s wrists bite into his flesh where they’ve corroded over years of use.

3. The Confidant The Last Kingdom, Aethelflaed x Aldhelm, Aldhelm x Erik, Aethelflaed x Aldhelm x Erik, Aldhelm & Aelfwynn, Modern Boarding School AU, Teacher!Aldhelm

“When does your new job start?” Blythe asks, pulling her dark hair into a knot at the top of her head.

4. Peace-Weaver - The Last Kingdom, Erik x OFC, Canon Divergent, Arranged Marriage

She had not been at the baptism but had heard rumors from the women who were.

5. Common Ground - Vienna Blood, Amelia Lydgate x Clara Weiss, Canon Divergent

The majority of Amelia’s day had been remarkably unproductive.

6. The Other Woman - The Last Kingdom, Aethelflaed x Eadith, 1950s AU

The glossy mahogany of the bar reflects the austere light of the chandeliers, transforming it into something softer.

7. Darkest Night of the Year - The Last Kingdom, Iseult x Skade, Modern AU

Iseult massages a spot in the center of her forehead and closes her eyes.

8. Leave Me Here With All the Feelings - Succession, Roy Siblings Gen Fic, Coda to s3 Finale

The noise fades away behind a wool curtain of confusion as Roman sinks to the floor, though his brain fills in the gaps—Gerri’s clipped tones as she replies to Karl, Tom murmuring to Shiv, thick and honeyed words which won’t come close to cloaking the blow he’s finally landed.

9. Like a Secret, Like a Sin - Midnight Mass, John Pruitt x Mildred Gunning, Childhood Friends AU, Character Study

The terrors start when he’s eleven.

10. Eden - The Last Kingdom, Aethelflaed x Aldhelm, Modern AU, Priest!Aldhelm, Character Study

The husband, as the priest privately calls him, arrives late to his counseling session for the third time that month.

I think I used to start fics with dialogue more often, I was expecting more of that here. I definitely like beginning with something short and fairly active most of the time, so even if I'm doing some scene setting I tend to move along pretty quickly. Love that I just blatantly started with an oc (her first appearance no less) in The Confidant...Blythe is very real to me lol. Anyway, this was fun! Tagging @volvaaslaug @weavemeamyrtlecrown and @skatingthinandice if you want!

#tag games #about my fic #long post

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soufcakmistress · 1 year

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Charleston Blues

Part IV

Pairing: Erik Stevens x Thick Black OC

“I took it upon myself to personally bring you this small token of our appreciation and a warm welcome to Charleston from the CNWL and me as well. I hope you’ll be able to make a home here.” Mrs. Warner had her best curls pieced and placed perfectly on her heart shaped face. She showed every tooth in her mouth shoving the massive home baked apple crisp into Erik’s chest.

“My freezer box is full to overflowing with desserts but thank you anyway! And you said your name was…”

“Warner. Stella Warner. My husband is also a business owner; he owns his own barbershop on the peninsula. Mr. Stevens, how you liking the south? The climate seems to be agreeing with you.”

He walks to the back where a small break room lies with a table and two chairs and a refrigerator, with Mrs. Warner following like a yearning puppy. “Hotter than what I’m used to, but it’s beautiful. Everybody has shown such hospitality. Including you, little lady.” Erik winked at Mrs. Warner and she fought not to swoon and sway.

“Well, I have to get a move on now. The club will be convening soon and I have to get my kids situated. Surely you understand right?” Stella blinked her brown eyes right in his face, curious and mischievous. “You don’t have to leave so soon Stella..”

Erik swaggered to the front and told Jerry to flip the sign on the door and go take a break. He came back in there with her coy eyes flittering every which way and Erik fought to pull at his dick in his pants. “She’s ripe for the taking, as long as you’re up for what could come next.” Erik’s God encouraged Erik’s fervor for the female form—this would be his first dip into the abyss since he was chosen by Badoru.

Erik brushed off his God’s warning and pounced on the willing prey. Erik hadn’t made it back two steps in the break room before Stella jumped into his arms and wrapped her legs around his waist. “Damn. You even finer up close.” Her tongue moseyed into his mouth and one thing led to another that afternoon...

Chantilly straightened her hat on her head and licked her teeth for any lingering lipstick as she walked into the clubhouse. Black women of all shades flittered about as the meeting was about to begin. It was impeccably decorated with a homey touch too. The cream walls had several framed portraits of past events and fundraisers held by the club, on-site and off.

“Cousin! I so glad you came!!!” Frieda popped out from a back room, and embraced Tilly with so much tenderness. Tilly knew that she meant well, and after all that Frieda did for her, this was the least that she could do.

“For you, I will do anything. Some familiar faces in here. Jacqueline Shackleford, Mary Boozer, even Edith Jenkins. Y’all don’t leave no stone unturned huh?”

Frieda rolled her eyes, shuffling the stack of papers in her hands. “Give it a chance. Who knows? You might end up enjoying yourself. Just try. For me.” Tilly squeezed Frieda’s shoulder and acquiesced. Frieda moseyed to the front where the rest of the officers began to congregate, while Tilly browsed the food table. “Mmm, this cake looks just as dry. They definitely need my help, gracious.”

Tilly picked up a few finger sandwiches and found a seat, while some other women turned up the radio by the opened window. “The pastor’s vehicle was found on Johns Island. He was sighted walking along Sullivan Avenue but has not been sighted ever since. Theodore Dunne has been the lead pastor of his church for over 15 years working in ministry with a special interest in children. If you have any idea about his possible whereabouts, please call the tipline. And in other news of the Lowcountry, more and more colored people are becoming business owners and trailblazing into areas of Charleston with a different demographic…”

Several women gasped and clutched their pearls at the pastor’s disappearance. Tilly feigned like she was aghast but inside, she rumbled with laughter. Little did they know, Theodore Dunne would never be seen again. “Ladies, ladies—simmer down now. We’re about to begin.” The sickly sweet drawl of her former arch enemy Melissa nearly turned her stomach. Of course, she would be the president—her bossiness and penchant for getting in people’s business was legendary on Johns island.

“Welcome ladies to our midweek meeting for the Club for Negro Women of the Lowcountry for the greater Charleston area. I see a whole lot of new faces, and I’m so happy to have y’all with us.” Melissa scanned her eyes among the faces and let them linger a second too long on Tilly. Tilly couldn’t read her expression but she would make sure to personally greet her before the meeting concluded.

Tilly sipped her tea in silence as she listened intently at the agenda at hand. Roll was called and all of the newcomers were met with a warm welcome after a quick introduction and any possible legacy ties. Idella Morrow, the chapter Vice President, thanked several committees for their efforts for the Spring Fling for the high schoolers on the peninsula. All efforts now needed to be put toward the Cotillion at the end of the year. All of the women seemed so engrossed and engaged, Tilly could sense the sisterhood in the room. Several women began to interject with their suggestions and contributions to the cause.

“My sister does hair out of her home, she could do some of the young ladies’ hair.”

“I’m a seamstress, please send the girls and boys to me for their gowns and suits.”

“We should fry some fish after the men’s softball games to raise money for the households unable to cover those costs right now, y’all know we right there on the water.”

“You’re just as valuable to this community as these women are. Show what you can do. Be comfortable with being uncomfortable.”

Timidly Chantilly raised her hand in a fit of courage from her mother. “Ladies, I am a professional pastry chef. I actually have a bakery opening in the very near future off of Meeting Street. I would be honored to to assist in any bake sales and take care of the cake for the Cotillion as well.”

“Aren’t we so lucky to have such an addition as Chantilly Davenport? The Club of Negro Women of the Lowcountry would is made better with your presence after such tragic circumstances that fell over your family. You’re looking much better these days, isn’t she ladies?” They all begin to clap for her, enraging Tilly. Bitch still knew how to capitalize on an opportunity to embarrass her. Maybe Tilly would become a permanent fixture; let’s see how Missy would like that. “Stay your hand, Chantilly. Her time will come.”

Fixing her lipstick, Mrs. Warner perked up to throw her hat in. “Well for all you moms with sons, y’all know y’all can come to my husband’s barbershop for their haircuts. I also have gotten some intel on that colored Yankee shaking up King Street.” She was so sure of herself by the way she twisted her lips up.

“Now now ladies, we are not ones to gossip! Although he is quite handsome. What’s the fella’s name?” Missy inquired, nibbling on the cap of her pen.

“His name is Erik Stevens and he’s from Massachusetts. He was in the Navy and was in the service during Korea. Said the things us colored folk down here experiencing made him want to do something! He’s quite the looker….”

Sipping her tea to get the nasty taste out of her mouth, Tilly’s heightened intuition confirmed everything she already deduced. Mrs. Warner wasn’t just keeping her marital bed to her husband; it was written all over her face. Erik Stevens. The Yankee vet that shook up the lowcountry. With a smile like that, he has to be up to no good.

Davenport Desserts & More would be opening in the next month. Tilly was still waiting on an industrial mixer to be delivered, and she could have sworn the electrician would be by to check the circuit breaker by 2. Here it is, coming up on 3:15, and a no show so far.

These were the times she hated. With a snap of a finger, Ursilene could speed things along. But she didn’t want to overstep. Ursilene was an asset and the catalyst for change in her life, which is why she had to be discerning. She still had to live and be normal in Charleston and behave as normal. So human problems still plagued her. It kept her humble.

She painted the inside of the bakery sea foam green just like Ursilene’s colors. The wall facing the street was getting an extra coat when the slow wheeze of an old muffler came trudging down Meeting Street. On instinct, her stomach dropped into her butt.

Officer Josiah Morton was the resident hard ass, dying to prove a point. Charleston was very segregated and he would do anything in his power to keep it that way. Yet Josiah had a wandering eye that left him full of self hatred. Black women were beneath him and yet they occupied his mind. A sick combination of contradictions with too much power at his disposal. The police cruiser came to a halt in the front of the bakery.

The electric sign was on its way and there was still paper on the windows shielding the inside. Tilly hadn’t known that the officer was approaching until she felt the pull from Ursilene. “He’s here to intimidate. Stay on guard, and he’ll leave.”

Tilly’s hand shook a bit painting upward with the paint roller. This particular pig was an incessant nuisance for this community and by the way his chest was poked out with that slimy smile of his—he’d been waiting to corner Tilly.

“Officer.”

“You working for some folks here, gal?” His sly eyes roamed Tilly’s body and lingered on her round bottom in her overalls. She wanted to kill him where he stood.

“Not quite, Officer. Seems that luck has turned in my favor, I own this place.” She had the audacity to look in this white cop’s eye because she was a Davenport and they were proud people. Tilly saw how he ogled her with no regard for how she felt, and that ungodly anger swirled in her chest again. The slimy officer twirled a kinky ringlet of Tilly’s mane tied under a bandana, leading it down her arm.

“You’ll have to make me something special once you’re all opened up, gal. I’ll be sure to pop up and every now and again….make sure you don’t get outta hand.” Tilly gulped down her ire until a smooth candy red Camaro parked behind the police cruiser. There’s no way..

“Everything okay here baby? I apologize for being a little late, I had to square away with Jerry before I closed up. I see we have a visitor..” Erik swaggered right up to Tilly, and gently brushed the officer aside and placed those unbelievable lips on her neck. The sensation that flowed through the both of them was unnatural, much like what had occurred already. Yet it felt ancient and familiar.

Erik’s hand guided her face to his and they stared at each other momentarily before the officer cleared his throat. The haze wasn’t totally broken between the pair but Tilly was able to separate herself from him. However, not far enough to spoil the act. “This is Officer Josiah Morton, baby. One of Charleston PD’s best and brightest.”

Erik shook the officer’s hand and looked him square in the eye. Erik easily was in a different weight class than the officer and stood almost a head above him. “Erik Stevens. United States Navy. Just made my way down south to help some vets and fell in love all the same. Isn’t she a stunner?”

The hairs on the back of Erik’s neck stood up—he loved to gaze at her mouth specifically her cupids bow. But the wrath fought to overwhelm and it made his spine straight as steel as another cop abused his power. “Control yourself, Erik. Protect her, and that’s all.”

Officer Morton turned red as a beet at the nerve of this uppity Yankee negro. He did shake his hand while he measured the man up. Josiah knew he would be overpowered man to man….but he had a different kind of power to aid him that Erik couldn’t access. “Stevens, is that it? You serve in Korea?”

“That’s right Officer. With the seals. We did what needed to be done.” Erik squeezed his arm around Tilly, and clenched his jaw. The tension was very high in this small space, and Tilly made sure to diffuse the pressure. “Well Officer, as you can see we have everything under control. Thank you for your….initiative to keep an eye on this community.”

She pinched Erik on his side and his head whipped towards her, with confusion and anger all in his features. The officer slowly dragged back to his cruiser and left them in a cloud of exhaust smoke.

“I’ve beat men up for much less with the shit you just pulled. You don’t know me!”

“Oh Miss Davenport, surely you don’t mean that. You played it tough, but your knight in shining armor came to save the day. You ain’t know?”

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clevercxs · 3 years

Text

Believer - Sigefrid Thurgilson [Ch 4]

[MASTERLIST]

Pairing: Sigefrid Thurgilson x female oc

Warning: nsfw ;)

Word Count: 8.8k

_______________________________________________

Midday rode in on its valorous steed, ridding Beamfleot of the prior night’s grim misfortunes and the fading afterglow of suffrage.

The sun’s rays, in their curious nature, seemed to peek through the fort’s highest window in an attempt to wake the Saxon princess, who snored away in a blissful, much needed slumber.

Unbeknownst to the sleeping beauty upstairs, tensions had risen amongst the Danes still hungover from the last night’s revelations, who were greeted with a rude awakening upon finding an empty cage in the centre of the hall. Their coveted princess had been intentionally freed and was virtually nowhere to be seen; she was not there, on display, for them to childishly taunt and harass.

Beneath messied curls of raven locks that had fallen over her pale face during the night, the princess’s eyes fluttered open, ever so slowly, and began to take in her new and unfamiliar surroundings. With a wide, breathy yawn that seemed to tug at the corners of her chapped lips, Blædswith carefully propped herself up on two feeble elbows that wobbled beneath her weight. Upon doing so she could feel the entirety of her shoulder ache, and broken ribs shift like creaky floorboards giving way.

Peering down, Blædswith was taken aback to see herself fully clothed in a woolen, sleeved nightgown that seemed to reach just above her ankles.

Her memory was a clouded haze, seeing as she couldn’t remember how she ended up where she had awoken; somewhere strange yet all familiar.

The room was dark and unnerving, though oddly enough felt cozy and inviting to the woman it confined. The walls were of beautifully aged stones, each one telling a story of famous Lords and Ladies past; of victorious songs chanted and arduous battles won. To the left of the king sized bed where she found herself, loomed a stone fireplace stretching towards a high ceiling of beams, encompassing a small kindling fire just large enough to warm the room without roasting the Saxon alive.

She could hear embers and small logs crackling, bringing a subtle grin to her lips out of its comforting familiarity. Plush fur rugs lined the wooden floor, forming a convenient trail towards the bedroom door carved in unfamiliar runes and other intriguing symbols.

Overwhelmed by the sudden change of scenery, Blædswith found herself curling into a ball beneath layers of thick fur pelts that had been draped over her sleeping form. Clutching a hand-sewn pillow tightly to her chest, she rolled over to dodge the blinding rays of light illuminating the cavernous room. Glancing up from where she lay still, she noticed the beautifully carved designs in the bed’s wooden frame, and the wrought iron candelabra hanging overhead by a single chain.

It was rather strange to finally be alone, where no prying eyes could violate her every move. For a brief moment, she almost allowed herself a feeling of freedom and joy, only to realize that the room had become her new cage. The only window was barred by thick wooden posts while the door, undoubtedly, was locked and heavily guarded on the outside.

Sigefrid wasn’t a complete fool to leave his most prized possession unattended and unprotected. Surely, he had learned his lesson, therefore no man was to be entrusted with her safety other than himself, the remaining few he trusted, or perhaps his merciful brother, Erik, whom the princess had already grown fond of.

Anxious, she began running her fingers through the pelt’s thickness, painstakingly trying to recall what happened last night…

While Sigefrid’s hand guided the princess away from the shore by the small of her back, she couldn’t help but stare at the carnage left behind in his wake. It looked as if his traitorous men had been slain by an entire army; dozens of arrows pierced their armored chest plates and their throats had been slashed by, undoubtedly, the blade upon Sigefrid's hand out of pure fury and rage. The limp body of the slave girl whom Blædswith befriended was carried off into the night, and to be forgotten, as if she had never been there.

As Sigefrid and Blædswith trudged uphill towards the fortress, she could feel him pulling her away from where a defeated Hæsten knelt in the dirt - mangled and disfigured beyond recognition. It seemed as if Sigefrid tried to avert the princess’s gaze from such a horrific and gruesome sight - one he was responsible for.

Blædswith could feel her frightened heart pounding within her chest like a battle drum, somehow in perfect unison with her heavy footfalls.

Though in brief passing, Blædswith witnessed for the first time the extent of Sigefrid’s vengeful brutality - or rather, the aftermath. It was as if Hæsten’s face had been trampled, repeatedly, by the metal-clad hooves of Sigefrid’s black steed. Hæsten’s dark, bloodshot eyes were swollen almost completely shut. His beard, once a curly nest of honey blonde, had been stained a crimson red from thick, oozing streams trailing from his broken nose. Beneath the skin of his swollen cheeks were distinct purple bruises outlining four knuckle prints. Surely, they were left over from Sigefrid ruthlessly pummeling the side of his face, where each blow became more excruciating than the last. Hæsten’s ankles and wrists were bound in coils of coarse rope not unlike a slave fresh off the merchant's ship after a long, godless voyage.

Blædswith peered down at Sigefrid’s hand that had slithered around her lower back, now resting upon her waist just below her tender ribs. To her dismay, his knuckles were split wide open and stained with another man’s blood. As their pace quickened the further they got from the shore, Blædswith couldn’t help but fear for what she had gotten herself into after seeing what Sigefrid was fully capable of.

Initially, she found herself drawn to the danger and mystery behind Sigefrid’s piercing eyes; seduced by his undeniable courage, god-like strength, and power over those inferior to him, the Lord of Chaos. But after that night, who was to say that he wouldn’t treat her this cruelly if she were to cross him? The fearsome Dane whose armor she clung to for dear life was a damning beast of a man capable of unimaginable acts… that much was clear.

There remained a glimmer of hope within the princess that she would be the exception; the one thing he could never allow himself to do any harm to. She believed him capable of being good, towards her, and hoped it would remain true of him in the end - when it really mattered. Blædswith marveled at the thought of being with a man such as Sigefrid, intimidating and ambitious, yet capable of being gentle towards his one beloved - her.

With the mead hall approaching in the near distance, Blædswith suddenly felt lightheaded, disoriented with fatigue and fear-fuelled adrenaline. The last thing she recalled hearing was the sound of Sigefrid’s voice calling out her name as her knees buckled beneath her and the night faded to pitch blackness with the collapse of her body...

Startled out of her thoughts by an indecipherable uproar of men arguing somewhere in the near distance, Blædswith found herself sitting upright once more, defensively on high alert, after hearing wooden tables and broken chairs being upturned and thrown rather aggressively across the mead hall, below.

What is going on? Is Beamfleot under attack?

With a stiff groan, she climbed out of bed and shuffled towards the bedroom door, pressing an ear against the carved wood. The princess audibly gasped when she identified Sigefrid’s voice amongst all others, bursting at the seams and fuming like a maddened, rabid dog off its leash.

“Dear God.” Blædswith gulped as Sigefrid’s tone seemed to grow louder by the minute while Erik struggled to calm him down. It sounded as if a hundred Danes were shouting in a jumbled unison, leaving Blædswith only able to comprehend mere bits and pieces of what was said.

In a panic, the princess frantically searched through every table and desk drawer, tearing the room apart in search for any weapons or weapon-like objects to defend herself with in case Sigefrid were to come for her next. This time, it appeared, Erik hadn’t left anything behind for her. Distracted by the commotion downstairs, Blædswith did not hear the light feet approaching her room, and hadn’t the slightest clue that someone was headed her way until the bedroom door quickly unlocked and swung open. Out from behind the door entered a quaint slave girl trembling in her work shoes, balancing a tray of food in one hand with an assortment of combs and brushes shoved down in her pockets.

“L-Lady.” She greeted timidly, “I-I am sorry to disturb you. Lord Sigefrid sent me-” The young girl nudged the door closed with the pad of her foot, cautiously walking through the room to place the food down on the nearest bedside table.

Startled, Blædswith practically jumped out of her nightgown at the sudden intrusion, withholding crude language after she realized how nervous the poor girl already was - out of fear. Her complexion was as pale as a ghost as a result of what was occurring downstairs, and likely whatever Sigefrid had threatened her with.

“What is Sigefrid doing? Downstairs?” Blædswith questioned, crossing her arms over her chest and taking a seat at the foot end of the bed. “Of course, I... have my suspicions.” Her words faded into silence after noticing a rather sharp steak knife conveniently placed beside her meal.

“L-Lord Sigefrid is…” The slave gulped dryly and began fidgeting with the bristles of a large brush in her pocket, “he is asserting himself, a-after what happened last night. To you. He is upset… he feels he can no longer trust anyone, n-nor protect you.”

Blædswith exhaled sharply, cocking her head to the side ever so slightly. Worried by Sigefrid’s sense of doubt, she questioned, “But he trusts you, does he not? After all, you are here. If you intended to kill me you might actually have a chance.” She motioned down to her shoulder before stiffly rotating it in circular motion.

“H-he does, yes, lady.” She nodded solemnly. “I have no intention to harm you. I have been nothing but loyal to Lord Sigefrid-”

Blædswith, immediately, picked up the steak knife from the tray, reached across her bed, and tucked it beneath her pillow. “I need you to be loyal - to me. You will not tell Sigefrid, nor Erik, that I have a knife. Hæsten still wishes me dead, and this is the only way of protecting myself. Do you understand?” Blædswith leaned in, closing the distance between their faces, thus causing the young slave girl to tremble in fear. She then added, darkly, “If you tell anyone, I shall kill you with it.”

Frantically nodding, on the brink of tears, the slave whimpered,

“Y-yes, lady. I-I understand.”

After Blædswith had been well fed and groomed, the young girl was dismissed so the princess could be left alone to her growing sense of paranoia. Before the slave could reach the door, apprehensive to step foot outside, Blædswith couldn’t help but feel guilty for the way she treated her. “Girl.” She began, causing the young slave to stop dead in her tracks, gratefully. “What is your name?”

Slowly turning to face the princess, she replied shamefully, “I-I have no name, lady.”

Blædswith slowly rose from the bed, strolling towards the beautiful, brunette haired girl cowering before her. “I shall call you Moira. How does that sound?” Blædswith reached forward, tucking hair behind the young girl's ear as she once had, to the first slave she’d met. “It is a beautiful name, for a beautiful girl. Do you not agree?”

Moira nodded humbly, caught off guard by the princess’s sudden interest in her. “I-I agree, yes. Thank you.” Moira then proceeded towards the door, sheepishly asking, “What shall I call you, lady?”

“Blædswith. You may consider me a friend... if you do as told.” The Saxon grinned, now propping herself up on pillows and carefully pulling the fur pelt over her chest. “I can offer you far more than the Thurgilson brothers for your loyalty.”

Moira’s eyes seemed to sparkle with a sense of hope. “I-I shall see you again soon, Blædswith, when I return to tidy Sigefrid’s chambers.” With a courteous bow, she slipped out of the room and back into the realm of chaos instilled by Sigefrid Thurgilson, leaving Blædswith’s head suddenly spinning.

It all made sense, now, why she had slept in a room so breathtaking; so fitting for a princess, even.

Lady Blædswith of Wessex had spent the night in Sigefrid Thurgilson’s private chambers,

and she doubted it would be the last time.

____________________ ➴ ____________________

With the descendence of evening fall came a sense of tranquility over the land. In recent hours past, the clan’s discord had simmered down as the Danes dispersed, returning Beamfleot to its once habitual state of being.

Blædswith, after restlessly tossing and turning, found herself buried beneath a mountain of fur pelts and pillows as if she were a child hiding from her parents. The princess stirred uneasily, wondering what would happen to her come dusk. She wondered why Sigefrid had not visited her, though it was likely for the best if he was still tense from earlier. However short-tempered Sigefrid was, Blædswith believed his company was better than none. A sense of loneliness and abandonment had overcome her vulnerable mind after spending an entire day imprisoned by herself.

When Blædswith finally began to drift off to sleep, she could hear the bedroom door knob fumbling as someone struggled to unlock it from the outside. With a loud creak, an unwelcome figure crept into the room and locked the door behind them.

Blædswith could feel her dry throat clench, and stomach coil into a tight, fearful knot. She listened as their footsteps drew near to the bed. Not a word was spoken in greeting, as if they intended to surprise the bed’s sleeping inhabitant. Ever so slowly, Blædswith’s fingers inched beneath her pillow and towards her knife. Her trembling body was otherwise still; frozen, even, as a paralyzing fear surged through her veins like a potent venom.

She could hear a pair of shoes being unlaced, and sloppily tossed against the nearest wall with seemingly little care of waking her. Something heavy yet soft fell to the floor, such as a fur pelt, before they began high-stepping out of something.

Somebody was taking their clothes off.

Tightly gripping onto the handle of her knife, Blædswith threw back her blankets and sprung to her knees, holding her knife outwards towards the foot end of the bed where her intruder stood completely naked from head to toe.

Having expected it to be Hæsten, or perhaps even Sigefrid, the frightened princess was flabbergasted and utterly appalled to see a bare-chested woman standing before her whose surprised look mirrored her own.

The two, in unison, gasped like fish out of water.

“Gahhh! What are you doing?!” Blædswith shrieked, turning away from the woman who showed no sense of urgency to cover herself. “W-who are you?!”

“I am Sigefrid’s mistress.” The dark haired woman sneered rather sharply, as if insulted that Blædswith hadn’t heard of her.

“Bloody Hell.” Blædswith groaned, chest rising and falling quickly with each rapid breath she drew, “Well, I am not Sigefrid! Y-you may…” She nodded with utmost caution, seeing as the woman was easily twice her size. “...you may put your clothes on and leave. Now.”

“Oh?” The large woman chuckled lowly with the shake of her head. “You do not get to bark orders. You are that damned Saxon princess Sigefrid won’t shut up about.” She quirked an eyebrow down at the princess as her lips formed a devilish grin. “But... he will have nothing to talk about if you are gone.”

“Gone?” Blædswith croaked. “I-I do not wish to leave-”

“You will leave, here, when I send you to meet your false God.” The woman snarled, suddenly lunging at Blædswith like a wild cat springing towards its prey, pinning her elbows to the bed causing the knife, her main source of defense, to fall to the floor.

“Shit!” Blædswith gasped, as she began awkwardly wriggling beneath the maddened woman, trying her best to divert her gaze from the Dane’s exposed breasts. Blædswith began kneeing her repeatedly in the gut, crying out in pain while doing so as pain scorched through her own torso. “Get off of me!” Blædswith whimpered, able to free an arm from the Dane’s clammy grasp to strike a fist at the side of her face.

The bear-like woman seemed virtually unphased.

“I do not want to kill you!” Blædswith leaned forward, head butting the brawny Dane though seeming to do more damage to herself than her attacker. Blædswith attempted to intertwine their legs together, only to have her shins kicked at until bruises began to form.

“Is that all you have got, princess? You could not kill me if you tried.” Sigefrid’s mistress chuckled menacingly, suddenly taking a firm hold of Blædswith’s throat with both hands in an attempt to choke and suffocate her. With the larger woman’s full body weight atop of her small frame, Blædswith was physically unable to push her off, nor pry her claws from her throat.

“I thought you wanted to be a Dane?” The mistress goaded, watching the color drain from the princess’s cheeks as she writhed and gasped for air. Scorching tears burning trails down her cheeks as she choked on her own sobs. “You are a sorry excuse for a Saxon. For a Christian.” She then dug her fingertips into Blædswith’s freshly cauterized shoulder, causing the princess to whimper and cry out like a dog that had been run over by a cart.

With a low growl, Blædswith managed,

“I am not a Christian.”

With her remaining strength, Blædswith wrapped an arm and leg over the nude woman’s back and jerked them both off the bed and onto the floor, causing the Dane to momentarily let go of her throat. Diving away from the bed, gasping, the princess began painfully crawling on her elbows and knees towards the knife, shouting and kicking out behind her like a wild horse after feeling a calloused hand grasp to either of her ankles.

With a loud cry, and all that she had left within her, Blædswith took hold of the knife once more after continuously crawling forward and being dragged back. Just as the Dane lowered herself towards the princess, hoping to pin her again, Blædswith flipped onto her back and slashed the throat of her assailant with a loud grunt, causing the woman to clutch her gaping wound with both hands as thick streams of red seeped between her fingers. Sigefrid’s mistress fell onto her side, gurgling profusely, as she began to accept her fate dealt by the hand of a Saxon princess.

Blædswith, now hovering above the dying woman, took it upon herself to jab the knife beneath her ribs, driving it up towards the Dane’s gaping throat as if she were skinning a deer, or even performing a reverse blood eagle.

“We could have lived together... peacefully.” Blædswith grunted, forcing the knife deeper into the woman’s core. “You did this, not me! I never would have wished you any harm!” The princess began twisting the knife as the Dane let out a final gasp. “You killed yourself. Tell that to your gods.”

The light in the Dane’s eyes began to fade, though she quietly managed through airy pants, “I… knew I was… done for when... he… he called out your name…” Her head rolled lazily around her shoulders, allowing her to look the princess in the eyes and whisper, “Blædswith.”

The Dane fell limp as a dark pool of blood engulfed her massive form. It looked as if she had been mangled and sacrificed to the Pagan gods above. Blædswith opened the mistresses’ large hand, and placed the handle of the knife within her palm before closing her fingers into a tight fist. With a sigh, she whispered, “Valhalla calls you. I will not deny you your gods… even if you did try to kill me. Perhaps, in another life, we shall meet again.”

Crawling away from the fresh corpse, Blædswith found herself crumpled and hunched over against the other side of the bed facing the door. She looked down at her sticky, bloodied hands resting palm up on her lap as a rogue tear caressed the side of her cheek. Her nightgown had been stained with hand prints and smears of red, and the skin of her neck felt raw to the touch as if she had been gripped by the devil himself.

Sobbing, she feared she would never truly be safe, and never be accepted by the Danes no matter what she does. She worried she would always be a target - always the enemy - even if she has denounced her Christian God. Until she has regained her strength, she will never be able to fully defend herself in Sigefrid’s recurring absence. Angrily, she questioned whether or not he had intentionally, repeatedly, neglected her.

Was Sigefrid testing her? Proving that what he said about her was true?

Not a single guard rushed to her aid. Not even Sigefrid, nor Erik. Blædswith understood they were busy, therefore could not be her caretakers. Most of the Danes she knew weren’t nurturing by nature… however, she had expected the Thurgilson brothers to better protect such a valuable asset - especially if Sigefrid expected her to stay.

There was something different in the air; something off. There wasn’t a single doubt in Blædswith’s mind that Hæsten was behind the attack. It was likely he dismissed Sigefrid’s guards as he did by the lake, and encouraged Sigefrid’s woman to visit his chambers knowing full well the princess would be there, instead.

Was Hæsten planning, in secret, to overthrow his lords? Or was he simply trying to get revenge on the Saxon princess anyway that he could? Perhaps his plan was to kill two birds with one stone… and that Sigefrid’s hostile mistress was just the first of many to come...

____________________ ➴ ____________________

Shadows filled Sigefrid’s chambers as twilight descended upon the fort. It felt as though the gods above had readied themselves for a blissful night’s slumber after a long day of watching over Midgard and its Danes.

On the hard wooden floor she remained, even all these hours later. Her hands were stiff with dried blood; her mind, body, and soul numb to the feeling as she stared off into the distance through heavy lids, anticipating someone unpleasant to burst through the door at any moment. She feared she wouldn’t have the strength to resist their advances in her current state of lethargy.

Every so often she swore to have seen Moira, or perhaps the spirit of, the first slave girl she met, lying atop the bed with her fragile hands folded over her chest. Guilt feasted on her insides like hungry Danes supping at the Great Hall. When Moira was no longer there, behind Blædswith’s head, she would see the face of Sigefrid’s mistress. Her ghost seemed to lurk in the shadows of the room’s darkest corners, haunting Blædswith even in death.

Blædswith ran the backs of her shaky hands over her drowsy eyes. In the end, her own mind; her own guilt and grievances had truly gotten the best of her.

A gentle knock on the door, followed by the friendly voice of Moira II, seemed to be enough to lift the princess’s spirits as she entered the room with a fresh outfit draped over her forearm. Upon noticing the princess bloodied and on the floor, Moira gasped and immediately dropped the clothes before running to her aid. Once knelt before the Saxon, she began looking her over to see if she had been mortally wounded.

“Blædswith!? Are you alright?” She panicked, placing a small, child-like hand to the princess’s cheek. Moira sighed in relief, feeling a heavy weight lifted off her shoulders as Blædswith nodded ever so feebly. “W-what happened? Who did this to you?”

Raising a shaky arm out to her side like an injured raven preparing for flight, Blædswith pointed a single finger towards the other side of the bed.

She didn’t utter a single word, for she couldn’t find the right thing to say.

On her hands and knees like a hound, the slave crawled around the foot end of the bed, now following a smeared trail of blood until she found the body of Sigefrid’s old woman - one she knew far too well.

“Christ almighty.” She shrieked and motioned her hand in the shape of a cross over her chest. That caught Blædswith by surprise - how anyone, let alone a slave - could possibly preserve their faith in God whilst living in Daneland.

“Sigefrid’s mistress intended to… seduce him. She found me instead.” Blædswith croaked dryly with a faint grin, now pressing a hand to her ribs. “She tried to kill me.”

“There were no guards outside your door, Blædswith.” Moira cried, hurrying back to the princess’s side with a look of worry and concern engraved on her face. “Sigefrid ordered them to stay, I-I heard him. I fear they... took orders from someone else-”

Blædswith nodded her head and interjected, “Hæsten is behind this, he must be. He will not stop until I am dead, and rotting at the bottom of the sea. There are many who follow him… I fear he is planning a coup against the brothers, but they are blind to it...” The princess huffed and firmly pursed her dried lips together. “The men Sigefrid trusts are disloyal. I have seen it many times in my short while. I must help him see what he can’t. For if I do not… we may all be killed.”

Moira rose to her feet and approached the pile of clothing on the floor, scooped it all up in her arms and displayed the garments on the bed as nicely as she could. “Perhaps you can tell Sigefrid tonight. Well, after I-I get you cleaned up. Y-you look as if you slaughtered a pig.” She grinned and kindly helped Blædswith to her feet.

“What do you mean, tonight? W-what is tonight?” Startled and confused, Blædswith’s thick brows furrowed together, though she found herself staring in awe at the beautiful Danish garb laid before her.

What is all this for?

“Sigefrid has requested your presence, tonight, for dinner in the mead hall.” With a quick nod, Moira escorted Blædswith to the nearest armchair where she was to wait patiently for her return with a rag and bucket of water - not unlike she had done the night prior, where she waded in the frigid lake water.

“Then I must go.” Blædswith inhaled sharply, glancing towards the door as if expecting another intrusion. “This may be my last chance to warn him before it is too late.”

Before leaving, Moira retrieved a small, sharpened axe from beneath her shawl that she had looted from one of the brothers.

“Sigefrid could kill you for this.” Blædswith warned though graciously took the axe from the noble slave girl.

Moira, within feet of the door, nodded solemnly over her shoulder with a kind smile and soothed, “I know.”

____________________ ➴ ____________________

“I do not wish to be humiliated tonight.” Blædswith pouted, running her hands down the front of the apron dress Sigefrid chose for her to wear. She muttered beneath her breath, “I have been tormented enough.”

As a base layer, Blædswith wore a white, long sleeved smock that brushed against her ankles. On top was a shorter, red apron fastened by a string of beads across her chest strewn between a large, silver brooch on either strap - both beautifully engraved in Danish runes. Her feet had slipped into a pair of lace up shoes made of soft, pliable leather. Blædswith’s elongated fingers and narrow wrists were embellished in the finest silver jewelry in the land.

Atop of the princess’s head were three intricate braids running from her hairline to the back of her skull where they were joined by a thin band of leather. While her loose hair cascaded down her shoulders, on either side of her neck hung a single braid that lay against her free flowing locks.

“The brothers will protect you. Y-you have little to worry about.” Moira soothed, approaching the princess from behind to drape a small, light-brown pelt over her shoulders. “You look beautiful.” Moira complimented in awe as she pulled the length of Blædswith’s dark mane out from beneath the fur.

Stepping in front of the princess in place of a mirror, Moira clasped her hands together against her chest and studied Blædswith from head to toe to ensure she looked as Sigefrid wanted. “You look every bit a Dane, and a-a lovely one at that.” Moira began fiddling with the fur pelt draped over Blædswith’s shoulders, adjusting the brooches upon her chest, and flattening out any creases in her skirt.

Astounded, Moira chirped, “T-the gods truly favor Lord Sigefrid.”

“How can you tell?”

“Well…” Moira grinned from ear to ear, cocking her head to the side, “Why else would they have brought him you?” With that, the unlikely pair interlocked arms and headed towards the door, only for Blædswith to halt in her tracks.

“What about her?” Blædswith motioned towards the Danish woman she had slain. “We can not just leave her.” She began to panic as the potential consequences for her actions flooded through her mind. Moira quickly shook her head and guided Blædswith to face her, rather than the lifeless body of her assailant.

“I will take care of Yrsa.” Moira spat the woman’s name bitterly with a hateful snarl. “I never liked her. S-she will be cut up, and served to Sigefrid’s hound for dinner. You have my word.” Moira placed a firm hand to Blædswith’s shoulder as the two exchanged comforting glances.

“You are mad.” The princess teased with a quiet chuckle. “Thank you.” She couldn’t help but crack a smile as she noted, “He likes his meat well done, by the way.”

Stepping out into the noisy hallway, arm in arm, they strolled towards the staircase. Blædswith could hear the merry laughter, chanting, and singing of jovial Danes downing horns of ale by the minute. To her discomfort she felt their arms suddenly unravel, realizing just how tightly she had been holding on to her escort. “You are not coming with me?” Blædswith frowned. “Why?”

Moira shook her head, and took a courteous step back towards Sigefrid’s chambers. “Y-you must do this alone. I will dispose of Yrsa’s body.”

“I can not-”

“Do you have the axe?” Moira pressed firmly.

Blædswith nodded in defeat, patting the right pocket of her apron. “I do.”

“Then go.” Moira hummed with a shooing motion. “Sigefrid Thurgilson awaits you.”

Like a moth drawn to candle light Blædswith’s feet carried her to the top of the stairs where she found herself clutching tightly to the support rail, looking down at the night’s festivities that beckoned her.

Her beating heart drowned out the sounds of Danes laughing and chatting amongst themselves. Those up and about, dancing around like children of the night seemed to move in slow motion. Everyone around her had come to a halt, paralyzed in time as the world simply stopped.

All because she saw him - though he had already been looking up at her.

Once engrossed in hearty laughter and storytelling by a large bonfire, Sigefrid’s attention suddenly fell elsewhere, towards the divine woman overlooking the mead hall in all her glory. It took him a moment to realize who had captivated his being; the entirety of his lonesome heart with her ethereal beauty. To no surprise, it was none other than his beloved princess, Blædswith.

Sigefrid’s slowly lowered a cup of ale from his parting lips. His eyes, crinkling in the corners, dazzled with such fondness and desire for the woman he admired so dearly. His bearded lips curled into a wide, toothy smile as he tossed the cup aside and excitedly jumped to his feet. His hand quickly readjusted his armored chest plate prior to greeting the lady of the hour, the eldest daughter of King Alfred.

As she descended down the stairs, fingertips running along the railing, she bashfully looked away from Sigefrid who was smiling like a fool upon her arrival. Blædswith could feel a warm heat beneath her cheeks as virtually everyone in the hall stopped what they were doing to stare in awe. There were mixed feelings - some were relieved to see the princess healthy and alive, while others regretted not killing her, or worse, when they had the chance.

“Lady Blædswith.” Sigefrid greeted ever so charmingly and strolled closer. “What a lovely surprise.” Upon doing so, he noticed the redness of her neck and frowned, exhaling sharply through his teeth at the mere thought of someone laying a hand on what was rightfully his. His brows suddenly furrowed as he took hold of her forearm and pulled her closer. “Who did this?” Sigefrid snarled as those spectating returned to their prior festivities. Frantically scanning her face for answers, he grew impatient when Blædswith remained silent.

Troubled, Sigefrid rattled her arm and sternly repeated, “Who?”

With the shake of her head, the princess caressed the side of his face and closed the gap between their bodies. “Now is not the time.” She glanced over each shoulder. “Rest assured, they are no longer a threat.” Pushing off of her toes, she rested a hand against his chest and pressed a gentle, comforting kiss to his lips.

Sigefrid did not fathom how ravenous he had been until he tasted, once more, the sweetest gift from the gods. Pulling her lower body against his, Sigefrid hungrily devoured her lips, fighting the urge to abandon the grand feast he had planned so he could ravish her within the privacy of his chambers. His calloused hand rested at the base of her skull, sending chills down her body as he intertwined strands of her hair between his fingers. Blædswith pulled him impossibly closer by his armor and deepend the kiss, taking his bottom lip between her teeth as a low growl rumbled in his chest.

Sigefrid chuckled to himself with a wide, boyish smirk, as Blædswith began placing a trail of kisses down the length of his neck, stopping just above his collarbone. A stifled moan escaped through his lips after realizing he’d been holding his breath. His eyes fluttered shut, and his tongue dragged over his lips to savor the taste of hers, all while marveling at his wildest fantasies coming true.

“I missed you.” Blædswith cooed in his ear before pressing her greedy lips onto his once more, no longer resisting the urges within that she had fought long and hard to suppress. When they parted for air, they found themselves gently nudging one another with their noses - smiling like dumb, lovestruck teenagers.

“Oh,” He chuckled amusingly, “how I have missed you.” He could feel his lower half stiffen uncomfortably in her presence as his heart beat inhumanly fast against his armor. Biting the tip of his tongue with an irresistibly flirty smile, he motioned for Blædswith to walk alongside him towards a long, wooden table seated with Danes challenging each other to eating contests and arm wrestling matches. “Come.” He reached back, taking her hand in his. “I need to wash away the taste of betrayal.” As Blædswith followed closely behind, cheeks flushed and core left aching after the heated moment they had just shared. She felt as if she were floating on cloud-nine, bit buzzed from the feeling of euphoria he instilled within her.

However, that feeling quickly faded as she cowered away from the looks of hatred and pure disgust she received. Blædswith could hear whispers of her name throughout the hall from those wondering what Sigefrid’s intentions were with the king’s daughter.

“Why is she not in her cage?”

“What in Odin’s name is Lord Sigefrid doing with our princess?”

As they neared the table Blædswith searched for an empty seat, preferably one close to the dark haired Thurgilson brother. Apprehensive, the princess distanced herself whilst Sigefrid continued ahead of her. Noticing her absence by his side, he turned on his heels and frowned. “Is something wrong?”

The princess shrugged sheepishly. “I-I do not see a place for me to sit.”

“You will sit… with me.” Sigefrid squeezed her hand reassuringly and led her to the short end of the table where two carved, wooden thrones awaited them. Erik, she noticed, was comfortably seated in a third throne at the other end of the table.

“I hope... it is to your liking.”

“I-I do not know what to say.” Blædswith smiled as he helped her to her seat before making himself comfortable in his rightful place beside her. Before he could notice, she plucked the axe from her pocket and dropped it behind the throne.

She felt safe enough in Sigefrid’s presence, that surely, it would not be of use to her.

The Danish lord couldn’t help but stare, seeing how tall and powerful she sat where his brother had. Once broken and defeated, she held her head high and overlooked those who despise, yet envy her all the same. With a freshly brewed horn of ale now in hand, Sigefrid’s eyes fell to her exposed chest concealing her lonely heart that yearned for him; for their souls to collide as their warm breaths intertwine beneath Odin’s watchful eye.

Peering across the table, Blædswith fortuitously caught Erik’s attention. The two exchanged gentle smiles as Erik nodded, assuring her that she was safe, and in good hands with his brother. She mouthed a quiet “thank you”, not only for allowing her to sit upon his throne, but for every kind gesture he’s done since they met.

“Two days ago…” Blædswith spoke down at herself, “it was as if I were a caged animal. Scared… afraid. Now I feel like a queen.” The corners of her lips squirmed as she fought to conceal an overwhelming feeling of joy, and finally, of freedom. “Why?” She looked up at Sigefrid with glossy eyes, and a faint half-smile. “We used to hate each other. W-what are we doing?”

Sigefrid leaned towards her, resting an elbow upon the armrest of his throne. He exhaled sharply, “While I have not been kind to you, Lady… I never hated you.” He spoke grimly, lowering his serious gaze that seemed to sparkle beneath the overhead candelabra. “I have learned from my mistakes; my failures as Lord of Beamfleot… and as a man.” Sigefrid reached forward and poured her a cup of ale, offering it to the princess in which she graciously took and drank from.

Clearing his throat, he leaned in even closer. “I will make things… better… between us. I presume my chambers were to your liking, were they not?”

“Your chambers were lovely… though a bit lonely.” Blædswith grinned faintly, feeling herself give in to the burning subject on her mind. “Sigefrid… I would not advise you to sleep there furthermore.” The Saxon whispered discreetly in between sips of ale. “It is not safe.”

“What do you mean?” Sigefrid suddenly shot upright, throwing a half empty horn of ale over his shoulder, nearly hitting a slave girl passing by with a tray of food.

With a heavy sigh, Blædswith chugged the rest of her cup and tossed it aside, too. Carefully choosing her words, she mumbled nonchalantly, “Your mistress did not take too kindly to another woman in her bed.” She could feel the skin on the back of her neck burning as if inches away from a blacksmith’s forge. “She entered your chambers, and upon recognizing me, she... tried to kill me.” Blædswith gently rubbed her throat, grimly recalling when she had been strangled.

“And… what did you do?” Sigefrid, practically perched on the armrest like a bird, held onto her every word as if it were to be her last. A mixed array of emotions overcame him, from nauseating worry and dread to fear of the worst. His mind couldn’t fathom how his mistress slipped past his guards, so he felt embarrassed and burdened with guilt that Blædswith found out about Yrsa that way, or at all. While he knew his mistress to be short tempered as he is, he never would have imagined her to attack King Alfred’s daughter out of pure jealousy.

“I slit her throat and gutted her like a deer.” Blædswith deadpanned before an unfamiliar slave girl offered her a second cup of ale, in which she quickly drank from and muttered a quiet “Sköl” as she turned to face the hall.

“Sköl.”

“I am sorry about Yrsa. I tried to reason with her. She would not listen.”

“She was a mad woman.” Sigefrid shook his head shamefully and downed more of his ale. “There were times... I feared this would happen. Not to you, but… to someone.” After a big gulp of ale, he wiped his beard with the back of his arm and shamefully sunk back into his throne, closing his eyes and cursing himself to the gods for neglecting their gift to him.

“Your guards were dismissed from their duties. When your slave came to get me, they had been long gone.” Blædswith stirred uneasily, distracting herself by glancing around the hall. “That is how Yrsa got in.”

“Those men will be dealt with. I can assure you that.” Sigefrid growled darkly through gritted teeth, his knuckles turning white from gripping tightly onto his horn of ale. “They will be slaughtered, like that whore of a woman, Yrsa.”

“You speak of your mistress as if you do not care. Surely you must?”

“Yrsa... was a good hump. She passed the time. Unlike her, it is not your ass I want. It is yourself.” Sigefrid turned towards the Saxon, sitting as his equal, beside him. “If you will have me.”

Blædswith gasped quietly beneath her breath. “If I didn't know better, I would have thought you wanted me to stay.” Teasingly, she quirked an eyebrow as if she couldn’t tell how he felt by the way he held her close - when they exchanged such a moment of tenderness; of love, even.

“Well, do you?” The Dane teased, excitedly toying with his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Do I what?” Blædswith hummed with a faux, innocent pout.

“Know better?”

Blædswith smiled down at her folded hands resting upon her lap, closing her eyes as a bright smile overcame her lips. “Even despite those who wish me dead or to be sold back to Wessex?” Blædswith then peeled the fur pelt from her shoulders, pooling it behind her.

“Even so.” Sigefrid nodded with a wink. His lips slowly parted in awe as he watched Blædswith rise from her throne, now standing before his knees. She began bunching the skirt of her dress at her hips, stepping over his large boots to place herself deep within his lap; his hands immediately shot to her lower waist, pressing her hips firmly against the front of his bulging pants with a breathy groan.

Numerous Danes whistled and hollered at Blædswith’s sudden gesture.

“I am giving up everything for you. My family, my kingdom. My crown.” Blædswith pinned his wrists to the throne’s armrests, causing Sigefrid to throw his head back against his seat. She could see him gulp drly; the muscular veins of his neck protruding as he fought every primal urge within him to tear her dress to shreds. “I have conditions.”

“Name them.” Sigefrid groaned as Blædswith began to slowly grind her hips against the mighty Thor’s hammer beneath her. She could feel the muscles of his arms flinching beneath her grasp, knowing full well he was stronger than her and could pry her hands off at any moment. His chest rose and fell beneath his armor as he shifted frustratedly in his throne.

“I want to be your equal.” She purred in his ear. “I will not be treated like a common whore, or slave. You will not have any mistresses, for I will kill them all. I am all you need.” Blædswith whispered dangerously close to his lips as her knees tightened around his hips. “I am your gift from the gods…”

Sigefrid nodded, panting, “I agree to your terms,” before learning forward for a kiss, only to be stopped by Blædswith leaning back, and ceasing all movement of her body.

“Oh, I am not finished.” She taunted rather seductively, maintaining a few inches between their faces. “I no longer wish to be called lady or princess. I am Blædswith.” She paused, biting her bottom lip to suppress an unexpected whimper after feeling him move against her. “I want to learn your ways; t-to train and fight alongside you, as a shieldmaiden. That has always been a dream of mine. I-I am a Dane at heart.”

“That is… quite the ask.” Sigefrid groaned beneath the warmth of her shifting weight. “It would be an honor to fight; to drink, and lie, beside you. I have wanted this - you - ever since we met.” Sigefrid, no longer able to resist her, freed his arms from her grasp with a loud grunt. She could feel his hand wandering down her lower back, undoing the tie of her apron. “I need you to be mine. No other man can have you.”

“Then take me,” Blædswith pleaded, her tender lips mere inches from his. She cupped the sides of his prickly face with her soft hands and whimpered softly, “Take me as yours.” With a quick, affirming nod, Sigefrid crashed his lips onto hers, tangling his hand in her youthful, free flowing locks. Tilting her head to the side, he began sucking and nipping at the skin of her neck, leaving a warm trail of bruises down to her collarbone to establish his claim over her. Pushing the sleeve of her apron dress down, he sloppily kissed around her cauterized shoulder, wanting her to realize that it wasn’t appalling enough to drive him away. He wanted her to feel beautiful; wanted and desired despite her wound.

Blædswith took his hand in hers, placing atop her breast for him to knead through her dress. If it weren’t for the room full of Danes surrounding them, perhaps her dress would have been discarded ages ago. “You are not,” she gasped quietly in his ear, “disgusted by my shoulder?”

Flicking a thumb over her swollen lip, he growled, “No.” Sigefrid’s eyes were dark; completely dilated as if he were a predator consuming its prey. He looked up at her as if she were his entire world, his beginning and his end.

How strange, he thought, that in so little time Blædswith, a Saxon princess, could mean so much to him… and she may and never know it. “You could never disgust me.” Sigefrid slid his hand around her arse, giving it a firm squeeze as he made his way to her undergarments, pulling and tugging on the fabric until it tore at the seams.

He could feel the warmth radiating from between her legs as his fingers neared, only for Blædswith to shake her head and whimper, “No, we can’t.”

“You do not want to?” A confused Sigefrid panted quietly, almost offended that she had denied him entrance to her most sacred body. “I do not understand-”

“Of course I want to.” She smiled with an airy chuckle. “When I give myself to you,” she gently caressed the side of his face as his arms rested around her waist, “I want it to only be us, and the gods, in the room. I do not wish to be in pain, either.” She motioned down to her ribs, which had ached the entire time. “Besides, if we start now, I-I won’t be able to stop in time for the main feast.” She teased lightly, causing Sigefrid’s chest to rumble with laughter.

“I am not hungry.” Sigefrid chuckled with a sly grin, flicking his tongue over his lips.

“Of course not.” Pressing her forehead against his, she couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear. “Well, I am starving. After tonight I am not going anywhere. I promise.” Blædswith soothed, tracing her fingers down the length of his arm, until she reached his hand. Taking it in her own, she raised his knuckles to her lips and gently kissed each one. “I have denounced the Christian God. My engagement is invalid…” Blædswith courteously pushed herself off of him, adjusting her straps of her apron and pulling down her skirt to avoid flashing the entire hall. “I am a free woman.”

“Not anymore.” Sigefrid smirked with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Before Blædswith could ask what trouble he was up to, Sigefrid blew through a large horn, immediately gaining the hall’s attention. Blædswith was left standing upon wobbly legs, flustered and breathless. Her entire body was flushed pink, nearly matching the color of her apron. Even a half-conscious drunk could look at her tangled hair and know what she and Lord Sigefrid had been up to - there was no keeping it a secret.

The entire mead hall fell silent, except for a quiet hum of music in the near distance.

Wrapping an arm around her waist, Sigefrid began, “I have something to say, to each of you.” A low murmur rose out of suspicion. “You will now be disappointed to know, that Lady Blædswith of Wessex, here, is now mine.” He couldn’t help himself but to chuckle haughtily. “No man is to touch her. Not with his hands, and not with his tiny cock… unless he wishes to lose it.” As he raised his hand-blade to the crowd, he couldn’t help but smile down at the beautiful woman whose warm hand rested upon his chest - a feeling he would truly never grow tired of.

From across the hall, the sight of his brother gazing down upon the woman he admired warmed Erik’s heart, seeing as Sigefrid’s gentler side rarely saw the light of day.

“What about our wealth? Our promised glory?” An older, toothless Dane called out, followed by an uproar of support from those standing around him.

“Blædswith is a great warrior, whom I have grown fond of.” Sigefrid argued with a scowl, glaring down at his followers. “She is far more valuable, than any silver.”

Blædswith let go of Sigefrid’s armor, and stepped forward to address the room. “I hope it brings you peace, knowing that I am no longer a Christian. I am not your enemy, but King Alfred’s. It would bring me no greater joy than to raid Wessex and pillage my father’s wealth. If you will accept me, as a Dane, I shall reward you greatly.” Blædswith could feel Sigefrid’s chest press against her back as he protectively stood by her side.

After a few moments of silence, cheering and applause rang throughout the entire hall. Upon Sigefrid’s request, a slave girl brought them each a third cup of ale, in which Blædswith raised into the air and shouted, “Sköl!”

Immediately following, Sigefrid, Erik, and those in support sang in unison, “Sköl!” and the night’s festivities continued on. Once finished with their ale, the unlikely Saxon-Dane duo found themselves laughing, singing, and dancing to the upbeat rhythm that was sure to play into the early hours of the morning. Sigefrid found himself upon his throne once more, arms wrapped around Blædswith’s waist who sat across his lap. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, playfully nipping and planting kissed along the marks he’d already left. The two swayed back and forth to the music, engrossing themselves in the stories being told at the table before them.

“Sigefrid?” The beautiful woman sitting upon his thighs whispered, running her fingertips over the length of his beard. Sigefrid hummed in response, brushing fallen strands of hair from her ethereal complexion. “I have… something else to ask you...” Interrupting her train of thought, and out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of strikingly familiar face slithering through the clusters of Danes until they reached the table where Lord Sigefrid and his new woman sat enthralled with one another.

“Why is he here?” She groaned against Sigefrid’s neck, only for the eldest lord of Beamfleot to shake his head with a sigh in defeat.

With a large cup of ale in hand, a disfigured Hæsten took one last gulp and let the cup fall from his fingertips, now rolling under the table. Before Blædswith, or even Sigefrid could properly react, he looked between them and slurred, “Sigefrid. Blædswith? What did I miss?”

_______________________________________________

A/N: Well Hæsten, it’s safe to say you missed a lot - lol. Sorry for the long wait for this chapter, but I hope it was worth it!

I’m contemplating whether or not to add real smut to the story... 👀

🏷 Tags: (hope I didn’t miss anyone!)

@inforapound @cheapcakeripper @wildwren @metall-and-dust @eclipsedbymyheart @henrycavill19 @aesirharvorsson @finantheagile @onesaltyhunter @wessexcrown @destinysall @lauwrite1225 @lumxnously @chlomidgard @dagonet-ironside @marv-llous @littlebirdgot @curlyrat @beesbrains @godricsvalley @alina-exe @lazypeachsoul

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fckwritersblock · 3 years

Text

Act 1: While We’re Young

Chapter 5

Erik ‘Killmonger’ Stevens x Black OC

(Unedited.)

Tuesday

January 10th 2005

Last night was the only night I'm allowing myself to cry over him and his 'return'. What good would it do me? No, I was gonna take Erik and whatever he had to throw at me by storm.

Waking up the next day, I feel refreshed. Like a brand new person with a more positive mindset. Today I had 3 classes and I'm determined to have a good Erik free day.

That whole Erik free thing went out the window as soon as I got to my first class.

Double O Computer Programming 1 was a junior class, however I'd taken it during the summer during my first year at UC Berkeley. DOCP 2 wouldn't be available until next semester but I needed to have a class since this was my first year on the actual campus. Thankfully Miss Hill really needed a T.A and the fact that I could help with an algorithm that tied into thermal nuclear astrophysics had her sold.

Right after I finished taking attendance, she barely got a word out before the door swung open revealing Erik as our late comer. I quickly glanced at the sheet in front of me, scanning for his name. I was so use to calling him N’dajaka when we were kids, I completely skipped over ‘Erik Stevens’. I huffed rolling my eyes, arms crossed over my chest. His timbs were the only thing heard shuffling across the room making hid way toward the front of the class. Wordlessly he handed Miss Hill before his eyes were on me. They scanned me from top to bottom, before locking with me a smug grin on his lips.

"Hey Lona," my jaw dropped.

Before I could get out a word, Miss Hill opened her mouth, looking up from the paper he handed her.

"Welcome Erik, sorry for the confusion."

"It's all good," he shrugged.

"Im Miss Hill, and I see you already know my aid. As I explained to the class prior to taking attendance, If I'm unavailable feel free to email or call her during the hours listed on the sheet." She is then took a sheet from me and handed him to me. "Other than that, find a seat."

He nodded pretending look over the sheet before averting his gaze back on me.

"I'm definitely gon do that."

Fuck my life right?

Well, Erik just so happened to be in the Calculus class I skipped two days ago. I thank God my record was squeaky clean and Mr. Kennedy accepted my poor excuse before I was quickly reminded the man upstairs has a sense of humor as the only available seat was next to Erik.

"The person next to you will be your partner for the remainder of the semester so let's take the next 15 minutes getting know one another hmm?." Mr. Kennedy instructed.

I couldn't suppress the groan that slipped as Erik casually leaned back in his chair, examining me.

"You heard the man, get to know me."

"I know all I need this know about you Erik."

"Oh so I'm Erik now? Like that?" He spoke cool, calm, and collected like our exchanged was normal.

I gripped my pencils tight, my knee bouncing up and down my body tense.

"Let me set things straight now. We don't need to talk to one another. If it doesn't have anything to do with any of the classes we take together, don't want to hear it. When you see me act like you don't know me. We clear?"

The expression on his face was unreadable before his lip twitched slight him responding.

"Crystal."

Wednesday

January 24th, 2005

It had been two weeks since Erik showed up here.

Ok that's a lie.

Apparently this man has been here. And to top it off, this mans name was in every bitch mouth like the second coming of Jesus Christ. From what I've observed though, he doesn't say much, or gives any of these broads much attention. He don't say much in general actually, he's really good at blending in. He got that laid back, mysterious, bad boy vibe going for him and these females out here hella into that.

But when he opens his mouth, that cocky bastard sure knows how to disrupt my entire soul at least while we're in class.

Outside of class though, he acts like I'm invisible.

It was like he never knew me. And honestly, I don't know how to feel about it. I know that's what I said I wanted but it bothers me just the same.

Today in particular though, he argued me down during our Calculus class. We had one problem to figure out before we could leave class today. You and your partner were supposed agree on the answer, and heaven forbid he just agree with me so we can get out of here. Math was always my subject when we were kids, nothing has changed. I was damn near about to say fuck it when he started laughing.

What in the entire fuck it so funny?" I was fuming.

"You," he shook his head. "You really hella mad."

"Um, YES!" I damn near shouted fed up. "You literally been tryna convince me it's 5 when it's-"

"Chill. I know the answer is 3 girl. C'mon, let's go." So smoothly he closed the book, grabbed his bag and headed to the front.

I was so upset, I had to let him do all the talking when it came to explain to the teacher I'll answer and how we got there. I know I open my mouth I wasn't going to say anything nice.

"Girl what crawled up your ass and died?" Donise questioned with a stank look as we sat at one of the benches outside of the library.

"Yeah What did Erik do now," I could hear teasing in Tatiana's tone so I flipped her off.

Only giving a brief explanation, I went on a mini rant about what happened in class 20 minutes ago. Donise's thought it was funny, while Tati just shook her head.

"I still can't believe it him," Tatianna glanced as a group of guys from across the quad headed our way, Erik included.

"Yes, and I wish it wasn't."

Tatianna was the first real friend I made in a while. I was actually tutoring her online for a while before she found out I was 4 years younger than her. Our friendship started off as a trade. I was her tutor and she both convinced and enrolled in a mentor program to help me with my social skills. I didn't speak to anyone much when Erik left, but I got into a lot of fights. According to the school counselor I was taking out my anger and abandonment issues on.I have meds to tame the anger, and while I haven't had to take them in a while Eric definitely bring that anger out of me.

"Girl that's just sexual tension. You got to fuck all that out." Ashley put in her unwanted two cents.

"Trust me when I tell you on God it isn't."

"Well if you out to holla, then trust and believe I will." She tossed her hair over her shoulder

I didn't really mess with Ashley like that, but she was Tati's frat sister which made them 'friends'. That little thot pocket will screw anything with legs, D, and a pulse and I'm not bout that life. Plus she messy as fuck and I don't trust her as far as I can throw her.

"I don't doubt it," I smirked as Donise said exactly what I was thinking.

Donise was coo' though, I meet her when I first got here 2 months ago. Believe It or not she was apart of the welcome comity for MIT and turned out her and Tatiana were already friends. Once she figured out who I was, I was shot to the front line during registration and everything.

"Anyways, y'all going Ant and them party tomorrow?" Ashley questioned probably tryna bum a ride.

"What party?"

"The Que's," Donise answered. "The dudes with Erik are frat."

Now this was news to me. I met most of them before but I had no idea there were in a sorority. Examining them, I guess it all made sense. Most in the clique sported some sort of purple and yellow lanyard either around their neck or on their keychain that hung from their jean pocket as if they wanted everybody to know who they were. Which I wouldn't doubt.

"Ladies! What we chattin about?" Moses questions every bit of his thick English accent tapering off every word.

"Our plans for mañana," Tati answered l

"Word. Y'all coming to the party tomorrow?" Jay spoke playing with a few strands of Donise's curls.

"Tomorrow? It's Thursday." I said confused. "Ain't there class the next day?"

"What's the matter, you can't hang?" I glared at Jay, knowing he was only chastising me because him and Erik were close, according to Tati.

I swear to God men gossip more than women do. Rolling my eyes I spared Erik a glance and he looked like he was waiting on me to respond.

"Oh, I can definitely hang."

I couldn't hang.

Around midnight I was in the bathroom throwing up everything, damn near hug in the toilet as my surrounding looks so blurry and I can barely function. Im not sure when I'd finally finished, but I could feel someone picks me up and out the bathroom and soon everything goes blurry and then black.

Tag list: @kitesatforestp @xsweetdellzx @justgetitoverwith0 @letsshamelessqueen-m @cmkcolove @readingaddict1290

#black!reader #black panther killmonger #erik killmonger series #erik stevens x reader #erik stevens #killmonger x black!reader #black writer #killmomger x oc #killmonger imagine #marvel imagine #marvel #black panther imagine #black panther #wakanda forever #tchalla

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hoodassnerd · 3 years

Text

Butterflies

Genre: Erik x oc

Words: a lot (I’m so sorry)

Summary: Joanna is a thug at heart but maybe not all the way through

BEEP BEEP BEEP be-

Erik shut off the alarm and look at the girl in his bed.

‘Seven? Sheela? Something with a s? I don’t fuckin know, she gotta get the fuck up tho’

Erik poked her in the back “Aye shawty, you gotta get up. “ she grunted and readjusted to get comfortable. Erik sighs, “AYO!” He shouted. She jumped up from her spot “What! It’s mad early!” “Exactly, that why you need to getcho ass up. I gotta work and I don’t know you like that so you gotta step” he said getting out of the bed.

She looked at him disappointed “Damn you really just gon kick me out like that?” She asked him. “Yea. Bye Keisha.” Erik walked into the bathroom closing the door. “MY NAME IS TIFFANY!” “Whatever the fuck it is, you gotta go” he said. Erik turned on the water ignoring whatever she was yelling at him and got in the shower so he could start his day.

Around 2:37 pm Joanna Brown woke up from her damn good dream about cheesecake and Captain America. “Shit!” She said as she finished her stretched. A good stretch. The one that makes you shake. “I should have called off today. I hate having to use my customer service voice to all them ugly ass men.” She said to herself. Jo worked at footlocker at the front register. She only kept the job because she was a sneaker head. Jo was very self conscious about her body but the men at her job didn’t give a damn about her feelings because her was shaped like the number 8. Even thought she had many customer complaints, they weren’t gonna fire her. She was the reason for half of their customers.

Jo turned on her music phone and connected it to her tv. “Rob the jewelry sto’ tell ‘em make me a grill”. Joanna milly rocked her way into the bathroom and started her showers he tied up her silver bundles and got in the water.

About 30 seconds later her primary phone rang. She looked at the screen and saw Erik’s name and the ugliest scared face you’ve ever seen. Tapping the screen she picked up the phone and started singing the song. “Got 30 down at the bottom 30 mo’ at the top, all invisible set with little ice cube blocks. If I could call it a dri-“ “I didn’t call you to hear yo fine ass sing nelly in my face” Erik said into the phone. Jo looked offended “So why dafuq did you call me?” “I called you to see if y’all got the new 11’s that just came out.” Jo looked into the phone “nigga I just got in the shower! I don’t even know if the sun is still yellow yet! And stop calling me pretty, you know I don’t like you”

Ever since they were in high school, Erik was sweet on Jo. She transferred from New York during their sophomore year. They eventually became friends after she fist fought the quarterback because he wouldn’t leave her alone. Even though they didn’t have any classes together he would always make sure that he saw her when she was at school. Erik liked Jo and was determined to get her to like him back. He would always compliment her and try to make her feel good about her self but Jo didn’t see it like that. Jo was a hood nigga, so she didn’t really want attention from men. Unless she needed some dick.

“Let me finish washing my ass first. I’ll hit you when I’m at work to let you know if we got em’” Erik smiled showing his caps “Thank you lil’ mama. Let me see ya titties” Jo hung up the phone “Bitch I am not showing you my titties” she said as she put the it back down. Willow Smiths - Wait a minute started to play on her tv “Oh this my shit!” She shouted as she turned up the volume.

‘Wait a minute! I think I left my conscience on your front door step! Woo-oo Woo-oo, Wait a minute I think I let my consciousness in the sixth dimension. But I’m here right now, right now”

Jo got in her navy blue 67’ impala that was given to her by her uncle. She started the car and the radio came on ‘FUCK A FLASH THIS AINT SNAPCHAT! CUZ IVE BEEN GETTIN’ PAID, YELLOW DIAMOND-‘. Jo jumped so high she hit her head on the roof of the car “Ow fuck! Shit” she said turning down the volume and rubbing her head. “Let me turn this shit down. I’m not the Same nigga from last night”

Pulling into the parking lot at the mall she looked at the time on her phone 4:02 ‘shiiiiiiiieeeeeeedddddd I still got 30 minutes’ she thought.

‘ when I get up all in ya’ and we can hear the angels callin us, and we can see the sunrise before us and when I’m in that thang, I make that body sang I make her say🚨🚨🚨’

“nigga this my shit!!” She said turning the up volume. The song turned down and switched to big gangster by Kevin gates. “Scuse me bitch... oh. What you want nigga!” She said to Erik as she got out the car. “Why yo thick ass just getting out the car?” He said staring directly at her . Jo stopped and looked around ‘Did this nigga wait here for me?’ “what kinda stalker shit is you on bruh?” She hung up the phone when she saw him. “Chill lil mama. I’m just trying to make sure my future wife got to work safe.” “Where she at?” Jo said confused. Erik sucked his teeth “Girl stop playin, you know it’s you. Wicho sexy ass, ooooh girl I’d love to see all that ass in a sundress.” He said licking his lips.

“Boy if you don’t get yo ass on somewhere. I wouldn’t dare marry yo ass. All the bitches you be fucking I don’t know where to dick been, nigga” she said grabbing her work bag out her backseat. “Why you ain’t take yo ass in the store? Everybody in there fuck wichu, they would have gave you a discount if you would have asked. Renee prolly would’ve gave you them shits for free, she in love wicho bum ass.” She said reaching for the door. Erik slapped her hand away from the handle. “Why you always do that like I can’t open the door” she said walking pass him. “When a man is present a women shouldn’t touch doorknobs or handles.” He said staring at her ass. “Mmmmhmmmm. Whatever nigga”

“Hi, welcome to footlocker! If you need anything just let me know!” Jo said in her customer service voice. “Fake ass” Erik said walking passed the counter. “Shut up and getcho shoes nigga!” She said back.

As Jo was reluctantly helping Erik, like the good employee she was, the door buzzer went off “Hi welcome to foo- Fuck. Welcome to footlocker if you need help please don’t ask me. “ Erik turned around and saw three men walk in the store and smirk at Jo. One was tall, about 6’4, light skin with a fucked up gumby haircut. The second one was shorter, kinda looked like Boosie with dreads. The third one looked like Dave east.....but dirty.

“Who dat?” He asked watching them walk around the store “Remember I told you about that nigga that keep coming in here bothering me but I can’t do shit cuz he buy ten pair of shoes?” He nodded “That’s his ugly ass. The dinghy one. He get on my fucking nerves. This nigga smoke boggies and think it’s ok to talk directly in my face like boy get the fuck on” she said scanning eriks shoes while he was laughing his ass off “This shit not funny bruh like, I told him I had a boyfriend but he won’t leave me the fuck alone”. Erik looked at her inquisitively “Did you describe ya so called boyfriend” he said putting quotes around boyfriend. She shook her head no. “Bet” he said. “Aye bro where you going?”

Erik walked over to the shoe display and picked up the cement grey 4’s “lil mama, y’all got these in a 12!” He asked. Jo looked up from the register to see Erik across the store “

What’s those?” “Come here and see” she rolled her eyes and put his other shoes under the counter and jogged over. “Oh the cements, let me check in the back” noticing the ‘Dave east’ looking at Jo, Erik slid his hand on her hip as she talked. She looked at him sideways like he was crazy. He lifted his brows as to say ‘play along’ Jo gave him a stink face but nodded slightly “Gimme a kiss ma” “no I’m at work” “you so mean to me” he said pouting.

Jo rolled her eyes and walked to the back room. “Aye bro. Why you pushing up on ole girl like that?” Erik turned around to see ‘Dave east’ looking like he wanted to fight. “And who the fuck is you to be asking about my girl?” He said as he squared his shoulders. ‘Dave east’ backed up a little “oh shit bro my bad I didn’t know that shorty was yours.” Erik clenched his jaw a little “ stop staring at my girl. And If she tell me you keep harassing her imma beat the shit outchu” Erik said slightly walking toward him. ‘Dave east’ turned around and walked away. “All we got is 11 and 13. “ Erik looked at jo “that’s fine mamas, I got some already. Thank you tho” jo looked at him “ so you telling me that you made me walk all the way ova he fah some shoes you already got? You deadass? Your total is $557.82” Erik smirked at her “I can’t get a thank you?” “Fah what?” Erik smiled real big “you see ya mans?” Jo looked around “what you say to him?” She said as her eyes lit up “I told him to stop talking to you and he left” jo raised an eyebrow “I know you lying but thank you” she held her hand out, Erik looked her up and down “ what?” He asked “give me yo money, hoe” jo said with an attitude. Erik sucked his teeth and gave her his card. “Declined” “WHAT!” “I’m just fucking witchu. Enjoy your day, sir!” “You play to fucking much” Erik mumbled as he walked out the store.

#it aint easy being cheesy #black!reader #erik killmonger x reader

46 notes · View notes

truglori · 3 years

Text

Game Night...

(Heads I win...Tails you lose)

Synopsis: Game night at Erik’s crib with a twist...

Pairing: Erik Stevens x Plus size OC

Warning: Language, Smutt

A.N- Inspiration was this picture

It was Game Night at Erik’s. He held them every other Saturday night and it was starting to become a ritual for Kaila to attend within the last month. When being surrounded by coworkers ,who became good friends, food, drinks, and music how could anyone turn down a time like this. Along with his beautiful luxurious bachelor’s pad Erik made a pretty good host.

Everything from wings with different flavors, a meat and cheese board, warm soft cinnamon pretzel bites, chicken and beef quesadillas, as well as different chocolates and chilled high class wine ,that Kaila wasn’t used to, had covered his antique walnut wooden dining table. Like she thought, he was a great host who had great taste and wasn’t cheap at all.

Standing in front of the miniature buffet with an empty plate Kaila was indecisive on what to get and how much. Still fresh to the friend group she was conscious on how much she ate in front of people that she wasn’t really comfortable with yet. Out of the six times she’s been here this was only her second time eating with them after getting pressured by her cubicle buddy ,Celina, telling her to make a plate before everything was gone.

Hearing the chatter coming from the livingroom, Kaila decided on a few slices of the quesadillas instead of the wings. She didn’t want to look like a pig knowing that she would try to suck the sauce off of her fingers afterwards. Filling up her red plastic cup with the cool wine she headed back into the huge living area. Spotting her purse and coat she sat in her spot and cuddled up with her belongings.

“See I told you, the food is good.” Celina smiled while sipping on her wine. She brought a hand to her hair stroking the box braids and giggled.

Kaila noticed that she had three cups prior so she knew that she was starting to become loose.

Laughing with her, Kaila shook her head and dug into her finger food. Looking at the small group she wondered how she was able to fit in with them. The group consisted of three women and three guys, Erik including as one of them. Every single person in their clique was extremely attractive and in shape. Her body type did not belong at all. There was always rumors going around the office about them setting up date nights to throw orgy parties. At least that’s what people assumed because they were so tight and never invited anyone else.

But Kaila had to take a chance and ask, since her desk buddy was a part of the famous group. So one day she asked Celina if it was true only to earn one of the most hysterical laughs in her face. She shut it down immediately and informed her the reason behind their closeness was because they all trained and got hired for their jobs at the exact same time and have been inseparable since.

Celina thought it was funny and invited her out so she could see that she wasn’t lying. Kaila refused the first few times but gave in after Celina had another one of their members, Leah, tag team against her insisting that she’d come. Kaila wasn’t an extrovert at all. Her regular day included work, talking on the phone with her baby sister who was away for college, and tv time with her cat, Snuggles.But she wanted to change that so she made Game Night at Erik’s a part of her weekend routines.

“Y’all mufuckas ready to get this bitch started.” Erik walked in finally making his presence known after being upstairs for half an hour. He was changed out of his work attire into something more relaxed. Nike grey sweats, a crisp white tshirt with his gold chains falling over it, and his Nike slides to match. His dreads were out of the braids that he only kept in while he was at work, now they were wild and free.

Kaila took in his frame. She watched as his muscles flexed from the slightest movements. Twisting open his personal bottle of Hennessy, she watched him take a long swig and shaking his head at the taste afterwards. She did a short giggle when she seen him hiss making his gold canines show. When Erik’s eyes turn to her direction she quickly averted her gaze to everyone else praying that she didn’t get caught staring.

This crush that she had for him was starting to be too much. At first she thought it would go away once she would find out that his body and personality didn’t mix but it became worst when she started to hang out with them. Erik was nothing like how she thought of him to be. Before hand she for sure figured him out as a smug and arrogant jerk but he was the total opposite. He was such a gentleman, sweet, and a charmer when it came to the ladies.

The littlest things he did like hold the door for her, or making sure that she wasn’t the last one going into a building whenever they went out for lunch to grab coffee. Kaila was falling for all of it. But after hanging out with them for so long Kaila noticed a few things about him. Yes, Erik was a sweetheart but he had a rough edge to him. When the drinks were in his system Erik liked to talk his shit, and he was nasty with it too. Of course all of the girls in the group would openly let him know that he could fuck if he wanted to. All except Kaila, she would never make a statement as bold as that no matter how much alcohol she had.

“About time nigga. The hell was you doing back there?” One of the guys, Tyler asked sitting in between Leah’s legs on the floor.

“My shit, my business bitch ass nigga.” Erik retorted playfully. He walked in front of his coffee table sitting in his chair. On the table had a display of all types of games. He sorted through them taking his time.

“Erik hurry up and pick a gamee.” Celina whined as she still sipped.

Glancing up he eyed everyone briefly. “The fuck is it, rush Erik night or sumn shit. Y’all niggas know without this y’all wouldn’t have shit else to do so calm the fuck down for I throw all y’all ass out.” He laughed drinking out his bottle.

“Hold up I didn’t say shit. I hope that’s not for everyone.” The thick dark skin girl who’s name was Keisha came in and sat down. Kaila thought she was the prettiest.

“Nah not you Keisha, you know you my boo.” He smirked.

She giggled doing the “period” motion with her hand. Kaila smiled sitting her plate on the floor beside her making a mental reminder to throw it away before she leaves.

Erik cleared his throat picking up a box. “Aight I got one. Do or Drink!” Sitting the other games to the side he placed the box in the middle.

Groanes and curses came from the other people. Kaila faced them amused with their reaction wondering what was wrong with the game he chosed.

“No Erik you always pick this game.” Leah flopped her hands to the side of her.

“Yeah I don’t like this one bae. You be making everybody drink and get drunk while playing this. Can we play something else.” Keisha sighed picking up her glass.

“No y’all only get drunk cause y’all mufuckas don’t know how to drink or hold ya liquor. Besides she ain’t never played this with us yet.” He spoke sorting the cards.

All of the attention went towards Kaila. Trying her best to shrink in her side of the couch she felt her cheeks heat up. Kaila hated when she was put on the spotlight in front of everybody. Bringing her cup to her mouth she sipped some hoping to calm her nerves.

“Kaila you ain’t never played this with us?” Troy asked.

Shaking her head she smiled timidly. “No but I guess I will tonight.”

“Kaila the game is real simple, all you have to do is draw a card, read it aloud so that everyone can hear you and you can either choose to do what it says or drink instead. Don’t worry about all that extra shit. Got it?” Erik asked her shuffling the deck.

“Yeah I got it.” She answered softly.

When he eyed her up and down part of her had to clenched her thighs to keep the wetness she felt down there from damping her panties and the other part wanted to run away from his gaze. The way he looked with his dreads covering his eyes was so enticing and it had her excited. Something she haven’t felt with a man in almost two years.

There was an order on how the rotation went. It was Celina, Keisha, Troy, Tyler, Leah, Erik, and lastly Kaila. She was okay with going last just to see how the game was to be played. It was easy to catch on to after the first few turns. Some of the draws that Kaila picked up were to risky for her so she had to drink for not doing them. Because she didn’t drink hard liquor Erik allowed her to take shots of the wine but for everyone else it was either tequila or some of his Hennessy. She was definitely starting to feel warm from the drinking she’s been doing.

Now it was going on the second round and it was Leah’s go,she had to draw a card. “Okay it says let the group go through your phones photo gallery for 60 seconds. Do this or take two shots?” She threw her card down looking for the shot glass.

Erik jumped up from his seat. “Unh uh hand it over. You passed the last time. Gimme your fuckin phone.” He chuckled walking near her.

Kaila laughed watching Leah try to keep her phone away from him but failed due to his tall and bulky stature taking it clean straight out of her hands. He held the IPhone to her face unlocking it and went to her gallery. Erik’s eyes went from entertained to lustful within seconds. Sucking in his bottom lip he glanced back at Leah.

“Damn girl. Yo shit pretty as fuck.” His low voice crept throughout the room. His eyes traveled down to her covered area.

Kaila, knowing what he was referring to, felt herself get jealous and turned on at the same time. She wanted him to look at her like that and speak to her the same way but she was to shy to say anything.

“Nigga let me see.” Tyler hopped up standing next to him. His mouth dropping when he saw whatever that was on the screen. “Damn Leah.”

Rolling her eyes Leah snatched her phone from their view. “Okay y’all niggas not bout to be fantasizing over my pussy.” She sat back on her end of the couch.

Erik shook his head walking to his chair. Picking up a card he read silently before trying to pick a new one. Celina sat up when she saw him and called him out.

“Uh Erik you never skip cards. What you doing baby boy?” She sat on the edge.

Erik smack his lips. “Nah not that one. Plus it’s my shit I could do whatever I want.” He spoke lowly going to the next card.

Keisha got up walking over to him. “No let me see the card because I ain’t never seen you skip one a day since I met you.” She tried picking it up but Erik snatched it away.

“Chill Keisha, watch out.” He grabbed her wrist lightly.

Keisha laughed. “Boy stop playing with me and let me see.”

Distracted by her going back and forth with him Erik wasn’t aware of Celina sneaking around the other side of him and successfully grabbing the card. She ran behind the couch and read it.

“Let’s see why Stevens was act like a pussy.” She slurred her words. “It’s says motorboat the person to the right of you for 15 seconds, even if they don’t have boobs. Do this or take three shots?”

Everyone looked to the right of him. Sitting at the end of the couch left only one person, Kaila. For the second time that night all eyes was on her. She wished that she could find a hole to crawl in and just die but that wasn’t possible for her. Hearing Celina read the card had her wishing that she would have just left it alone when he skipped the first time. She was embarrassed but she didn’t know if it was because the card dared him to put his face in her titties or that he wanted to skip the turn.

“Celina sit your drunk ass down and just leave the card alone.” Leah grabbed her arm and pulled her down.

“Oops sorry.” She burped putting the card back.

There was silence for a few minutes. For almost the whole night Kaila skipped her turn or declined when someone had to do something to her causing them to lose. She didn’t want to be the party pooper of the hour so she spoke up.

“You can do it if you want.” Her voice coming out lightly. Avoiding the stares from the others her eyes stayed on Erik’s.

His brows lifted up surprised. “Look don’t let Celina’s drunk ass pressure you into something you not down for Kaila.” The way he said her name made her squirm and Erik peeped it himself.

“She wasn’t but if you don’t want to I get it-“ She stopped her sentence when he stood up from his chair.

His body was now in front of hers. Kaila couldn’t help quickly glancing at the print that stuck out through his sweats. The feeling of his hand under her chin tilted it up startled her a bit.

“You wanna do this out here or we can go somewhere private? It’s up to you.”

The room was now quiet as everyone watched the two under the influence and yet still drinking from their cups. Kaila nodded as she stood up signaling that she would rather do it somewhere not in front of them. Stepping to the side she went in front of him and felt his hand on the small of her back.

“Don’t take longer than 15 seconds.” Celina laughed sticking her tongue out when they briefly looked back at her.

Kaila looked around aimlessly as Erik led her down his dark hallway. The only thing that could be seen was the faint wall art from the infrequent lightening outside that came through his windows due to the rainstorm they were going to have tonight. The closer they were to their destination the more the butterflies in Kaila’s stomach start to appear one by one.

“Here we are.” Erik pushed a tall black door opened revealing his master bedroom.

Kaila didn’t stop her eyes from wondering as she looked around. The theme color to his room was black and red. His king sized bed was placed in the middle with a Versace Medusa logo cover resting on top. Laying on the ground next to it was a large black and gold Persian rug. But what caught her attention was the wide mirror that was over his bed.

“You have a nice room Erik.” She sent him a light smile standing in the middle of the floor.

Erik closed his door with the weight of his body. He smirked watching her stand there timidly barely keeping eye contact with him. Erik knew that Kaila had some sort of crush on him but he never said anything about it because he didn’t want to embarrass her. She was always shy around him but was okay with talking to everyone else in the group. Erik couldn’t stand that shit. Watching her round face give her sweet smile to Troy and Tyler always made him jealous. He wanted to be the one to put it on her face but could never get the chance with her always running away from him.

Before she became a part of their group Erik already noticed Kaila around the office. The curve of her wide hips and thickness of her thighs that she would cover up lured him into her. There would be days when she wasn’t wearing her turtleneck and he could finally get a peak at her smooth and chocolate double D’s along with a whiff of her perfume. Erik’s mouth would began to salvitate as he became curious wondering how they would taste. Now he had the chance.

“Thank you. I appreciate that baby.” He chuckled walking to stand in front of her.

Kaila’s eyes averted down at the new pet name. Looking back up, his russet eyes met her chestnut colored ones. His teeth held the full bottom flesh between them. The moment she inhaled for the first time with their closeness Kaila smelled his cologne that sent signals down to her vagina. She could feel the sticky wetness that he was created and he hadn’t even touch her. Her chest rose and fell as her breath hiked up.

“So you ready? It’s only 15 seconds.” The sound of his deep voice had her doing kegals on an imaginary dick.

“Yeah let’s do this.”

The sudden movements of his hands going up to her breast spooked her. Wearing an off the shoulder ribbed dark grey long sleeve tub top Kaila was able to feel his fingertips against her skin. She did a soft moan from the contact hoping that he didn’t hear.

“Big ass fucking titties.” Erik spoke out loud not caring if she heard him or not.

He began to grope them. Bringing his hands to the cuff of them he played with her breast. Lifting them up and down. All of a sudden he was like a kid in a candy store. Kaila could feel her nipples harden on his hands, that frequently rubbed against them. She bit her lip.

Erik smirked watching her get aroused in front of him. He could feel the pebbles turning into rocks from his touch and when he saw her suck on her bottom lip his dick jumped. Wasting no time he lifted her breast up and dove straight in face first. With the combination or her soft titties and her scent Erik’s dick started to get rock hard. He knew then that he now wanted to add titty fucking to the list of nasty shit he wanted to do to her.

“Mm.” Kaila tried her best hide her moan. She didn’t want him to think she was a prude for moaning at something as little as this. It was all a part of a game for goodness sake, but she couldn’t help it. Reaching up she gripped his dreads holding on to him while he moved his head side to side.

The fifteen seconds was long and over with but he was still down there. What was only supposed to be a quick playful motorboat session turned into love bites and delicate sucks. Erik took his time placing a kiss on to each breast. Tracing his tongue over them and then giving a soft suck. He could hear her trying to suppress her moans, but he was working for them and wanted to hear them clearly.

Reaching behind her he slid his hands around her thick waist and then traveled down to her ass. Gripping her cheeks roughly through her leggings he pulled her body into his pressing her down on his thick and solid member. Still continuing his sucks on her breast he groaned hearing her give in.

“Erikk.” Kaila felt the flutters in her stomach and her toes curl when she felt his package bump her area.

“Hmm?” He was now moving up to her exposed neck never losening his grip on her ass.

“The game.” Her words came out as a whine.

“Fuck it. You can’t tell me you not tryna let me fuck right now. Letting me suck on you and shit. I know you wet as fuck down there.” The confidence he spoke with had her dripping even more.

Kaila brought her hands up to his biceps. She turned her head to give him more space to kiss. Squeals left her mouth every time he would grip her cheeks separating them. Kaila wanted to submit badly but was still undecided as she worried about the others listening to what could happen in this room.

Erik pulled away from her seeing that she was hesitant. That’s when an idea popped into his head. His dick was too hard for him to leave without feeling any type of warmth. Going into his nightstand he found the coin and flipped it before walking back to her.

“Alright I have this coin here that’ll decide on what I can receive from you. Since you’re so worried about that dumb ass game out there. We can play our own.”

Kaila’s knitted with confusion but she was curious.

“What type of game?” Her soft voice asked.

Erik licked his lips as she watched hers move. He tugged on her lower lip with his thumb and index finger before showing her the coin and handing it to her.

“If it flips on head I get some pussy and if it flips on tails I get some head. You down?” Stepping in her space he bent his head kissing on her neck. She was so soft to him and it was hard for him to stop.

Kaila observed the gold naughty coin. She never tried anything like this in her 24 years of living. It was new and exciting and with Erik being the person behind it tempting her, she wanted to give it a chance.

“Okay. You flip?” She handed the coin back rubbing her sweaty palms up and down her black leggings.

Taking the coin he strolled over to his bed. Sitting on the edge of it he patted the space next to it offering her a seat. Kaila worked up the nerve to walk over from the liquid courage that she was feeling from the wine. It was making her feel frisky and horny all in one. She sat next to him and smiled sheepishly.

Erik leaned back and smirked. He wrapped an arm behind her as he got ready to flip the coin. “Heads I win...Tails you lose.” He chuckled as she understood the double meaning.

He tossed it up just a few feet above them and caught it quickly with the same hand.

“Hold your hand out.” He demanded and placed the coin flat on her palm. There was a pause for a few seconds before he lifted his hand. It landed on tails.

“Hope you know how to suck some dick.” He reached his hand behind her smacking her ass.

Kaila got up and stood in front of him. Rolling her eyes at his cockiness she pulled her braids up into a bun wrapping them around to keep them out of the way. She pushed him back causing him to lean on his elbows. Getting on her knees he started to rock his leg side to side. Tugging at his sweats she pulled them down along with his briefs making his semi-hard long and girthy length pop out. From the size alone Kaila got intimidated know that if he knew how to work with it he would make her go crazy.

Erik pulled on the hem of his shirt hiking it up to show his abs. He reached down grabbing the base of his dick whirling it back and forth. “I don’t wanna feel no teeth. You hear me?” His command coming out crystal clear.

Nodding her head Kaila leaned forward giving him a gentle kiss. The thick mushroom tip felt good against her lips. She hasn’t been with a man in almost two years so she wasn’t sure if she still had it. But tonight she would find out knowing that Erik would have no problem letting her know.

Getting her mouth wet she let a long sting of saliva drip on to his length. Sticking out her tongue she ran it against the sides wetting his stick up before taking him into her mouth whole. Erik was a challenge so she wasn’t going to get him down in one fit. She’d have to work her way down. She let him slide in and out of her mouth twirling her head when she would reach his tip. Taking one of her free hands she stroked his shaft while shoving her other hand in her leggings rubbing her clit. The feeling of having a dick grow in her mouth made Kaila’s pussy drip and nipples hard.

Looking up she watched as Erik kept his eyes on her. His jaws tightening from her locked jaw that she had on him. The ‘gawking’ sound coming from her made his balls jump. Erik’s eyes now became low as he reached for her braids unraveling the bun and created a ponytail with his fist.

“That’s how you sucking Daddy dick?” He asked surprise as he now sat up leaning on his free hand watching her perform her work of art.

When she felt him hit the back of her throat she answered him on purpose so that he could feel the vibrations. “Mmhm.”

“Ahh SHIT!” Erik threw his head back feeling how her throat had clenched around him. Kaila surprise the fuck out of him. He never expected a head monster behind that quiet little desktop bookworm facade she had put on, but everyone know that they be the main freaks.

She was sucking his shit sloppy just the way he liked it. Her tight warm jaws had his heads in the clouds. Kaila’s head game was starting to get so good Erik felt like he had to do or say something to throw her off.

“Let Daddy slut this muthafucking throat out....gah damnn.” Standing up he lifted his crisp white shirt up to his mouth tucking it in between his teeth. Grabbing her braids and making a ponytail with one hand he cupped her chin with the other as he fucked her throat.

When the spit began to run down her chin and hit her top it reminded Erik of her big chocolate melons that he wanted to fall asleep on. He had got to feel them now he wanted to see them.

“Pull them big ass fuckin titties out.” He spoke with his shirt still clenched in his teeth making his dimples show.

Kaila heard comply to his orders. She pulled the top down and her strapless bra up and began to play with her nipples for him. Using the spit that dripped on her chest she rubbed it on her pebbles as her mouth became wetter with her arousal. She brought a hand back into her pants and tweaked her nub.

Erik watched her play with herself knowing that head wasn’t the only thing he was trying to get from her for the night. If she could suck dick this good he only imagine what that pussy was feeling like.

“Mouth to fuckin good to not try and fuck. You gon give me sum pussy after?” His hips still stroking in her mouth. Kaila tried to push him out by his thighs but he pushed her hands away. “Move them fuckin hands and answer my question.”

Closing her eyes trying to breathe through her nose she nodded her head. Erik smirked as he pulled out of her mouth. Dick standing up and dripping with her saliva.

“Get yo ass on this bed.” He took off his shirt and stepped out of his sweats and underwear leaving him in his naked glory.

Kaila got on the bed, kicking of her shoes she laid on her back looking at herself in his mirror that was above them before she felt him pulling at her leggings. She squealed from the quick action lifting up to help him get them off. The moment the air touched her thighs she grew self conscious of her appearance. Erik noticed when he opened her thighs climbing between them.

“Instead of being worried bout how thick these thighs are you should be worried about how you gon take this dick.” He leaned up and tapped his heavy meat on her covered clit.

“Ooh.” Out of reaction Kaila moaned and shut her thighs closed.

Erik grabbing them and pushing them back to their previous position. “Unh uh. Open ya fuckin legs. I know you got some good warm wet ass pussy. I can feel the heat coming off that muthafucka and I ain’t pull ya panties to the side yet.”

His dirty talk was making her pussy throb. Kaila wanted to feel that heavy dick split her open even if she cried right after. Erik spoke with big dick energy because he know he had big dick to deliver.

“I want some dick.” Her shy hushed words coming out. Kaila didn’t usually speak like this but Erik brought it out of her.

He smirked and grabbed her the back of her thighs and lifted them up pushing them on her stomach. “Oh you gon get this dick, but I wanna eat this pussy first.”

Without warning he bent his head down between her thighs. Using his teeth he dragged her panties to the side. Kaila jump feeling his breath on her lower lips. She started to brace herself when she felt a long lick go up and down her slick coated slit. Taking his hand he used it to separate her meaty flesh. Her natural juices sticking to the sides

Erik groaned biting his lip. “Mm I know you be making niggas drown in this shit.” He watched her hole open and closed as he spoke to it.

Spitting on her clit he went straight to sucking on it. Erik had to stop her legs from snapping on his head. He used the all the upper strength he had to hold her thick thighs down all the while never letting up on her clit. Keeping his mouth around her he flicked the bud repeatedly. Her juices started to drip out already soaking his beard. The smell of her sex made his dick jump with anticipation. He was ready to feel her in some type of way. Bringing his tongue down he began to tongue fuck her tight hole. She clenched down on him as he slid in and out of her walls. Using his thumb he rubbed her clit adding to her pleasure

“Ohh fuuckk....I’m about to cum babyy.” Kaila covered her mouth to try and lower her whining moans but the way he stuck his tongue in her made it impossible.

“Let that shit out.” Smacking her inner thigh he went back sucking her clit. Erik felt how tight she was on his tongue. He knew he had to open her up a bit to get her ready for his dick. He took two fingers and slowly worked them into her.

Kaila lifted her hips to meet his strokes as she felt herself come undone on his fingers. The suction he was applying on her clit brought tears to her eyes. Her legs shook already giving out. Erik lifted up bringing his fingers to his mouth sucking her essence.

“I’ll have game night every day just to get up in this pussy.” He rubbed his tip against her clit. Using her natural lubricant he made himself slick enough and sat at her tight opening. Erik lifted her thighs back to as far as they were able to go and used the weight of his hips and thrusted inside of her.

“Ahh FUCK!! Gah damn. Wait a minute.” He pulled out instantly and closed his eyes. He chuckled lowly shaking his head. “You got me fucked up if you think I’m not beatin this shit down.” He gripped Kaila’s thighs pulling her to the edge of the bed. He had her at an angle and was standing up.

Kaila squeaked. “Erik wait don’t go too deep-“ She was cut off feeling him sink inside of her. Her arms flailing over as she gripped his sheet. Mouth ajar and formed into a silent ‘o’ as she felt herself getting stretched open to max she’s ever been.

—

Erik wasn’t playing when he said he was going to beat her pussy up. The size or weight of her body didn’t stand a chance to him. He was in beast mode as he drilled her shit in. Kaila’s cry’s and moans fell on deaf ears as he was hitting her spot. No matter how much pushing at his chest she did, it didn’t change the pace or motion he was going in. She had already came on his dick two times but that didn’t mean anything to him.

Kaila whimpered as she brought her hands to his hips to try and stop him. “Daddyyy please l-I can’t.” She brought a hand up to her mouth and bit on her knuckles.

Erik ignored her knowing that she was only speaking because of the sensitivity of her pussy started to probably grow higher the more he stroked her out. The minute he felt her pussy wrapped around his dick Erik got stuck. Her warm and gushy walls clenching him every time he tried to pull out. There was no way she wanted him out of this pussy.

“Move ya fucking hand and take some dick.” He barked as his dreads hung over his eyes and chain swung low. He pulled out tapping on her clit only to slide back in deeper this time.

“Unh..okayy.” She cried frustrated that she couldn’t run

He had her thick frame bended up like a pretzel. Looking between their bodies that was starting to sweat up, Erik watched the way he slid in and out of her. Her coat attached on to his dick. The way he could see her pussy throb around him. But the way she would involuntarily clenched her walls around him when he would pull out only leaving his tip in had her flipping Erik’s crazy switch.

Erik wanted to laugh when he saw the tremble in her lower lip and her tears coming out the corner of her eyes. He was giving her that good dick and he loved watching her get ruined in front of his face. Leaning over her he started to suck her nipples while his stroke never faltered.

Glancing up at the cieling Kaila watched him stroke deep inside of her in the mirror. The rotation of his hips along with his slight curve he had on his dick was sending her to another dimension. He was digging so deep inside of her it had her mind making up scenarios of having a family with him. It was the way he stroked her and fed on her nipples at the same time that had her seeing stars on his wall.

Kaila gripped his dreads. She moaned and whimpered with panted breaths. She couldn’t control the level of her voice. When his strokes were short and fast she’d moan but when he started tapping at her bottom her toes would curl and she’d whimpered and shake underneath him. Kaila didn’t have a clue when she would be able to find another person to hit it the way he did or if there would be another at all.

“Ohh daddy....you so deep in my pussy.” Her sexy moans in his ear had Erik ready to bust. He lifted from her tittes and gave her a nasty kiss. Tongue and all. Kaila moaned and clenched down onto him. Erik’s fingers dug into her skin and sucked on her lip.

“You gon let me nut in this tight ass pussy?” He whispered in her neck.

Kaila shook her head yes willing to agree with anything while he was laying that pipe on her. “Cum in me daddy.”

Erik wanted to hold off but the pussy was hitting too good. He stood back up and stroked until he bottomed out inside her. He’d always get his best nuts when he would go deep. Tucking his lip into his mouth his deep long strokes started to slow feeling his balls tightened. Erik closed his eyes when she gripped his meat and pulling his seed right out of him.

“Fuck!” He groaned and continued to stroke his nut out until he was empty. He pulled out of her with her cream coating his member.

His dick was still hard. Kaila was laying in the same position. Her thighs sore and unable to close from staying open that long. Sitting up she rested on her palms to observe him. Erik’s eyes was glued to her pussy before taking his hand and rubbing her clit.

“I can’t stay out this shit.” He licked his lips.

Kaila shyly smiled as she was about to speak when she heard laughing on the other side of the door.

“Now y’all niggas know them 15 seconds been up.” Celina stated loudly before laughing along with the others.

Her hand covered her mouth as embarrassment clouded her face. She pushed his hand away.

“See Erik I told you.” Kaila whined getting up.

“Wait,where you going?” He asked stepping in front of her.

“I’m going back to the game.”

“We not done here yet. Now come flip this coin to see what you could get. This head...or... this dick.”

_____________________________________

Please excuse any mistakes!

(Going to have to edit this later)

Tag-list

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#black panther #erik killmonger #erik smut #erik stevens #erik x plus size reader #killmonger fanfiction #killmonger x reader #truglori #black panther killmonger

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knives-out20 · 4 years

Text

Magnetic Push - Erik Lehnsherr x Male!OC - Part 1

Fandom: X-Men: Days Of Future Past (2014)

Pairing: Karmel Rosenstein (OC) x Erik Lehnsherr

Warnings: Swearing, Spoilers for Days Of Future Past, Magnetic Pull spoilers,

Notes: Hi! Welcome to the sequel of Magnetic Pull, titled ‘Magnetic Push’, it is advised you DO NOT READ this if you have NOT finished Magnetic Pull. But that is an obvious given. Grimm, as you all may remember, is an OC of mine. Enjoy!

Logan and Hank sat in front of Charles' desk in his office.

Charles bent over sluggishly, looking at Logan under a big desk lamp. "So, you're saying...that they took Raven's power, and, what? They weaponized it?"

"Yep." Logan nodded.

"She is unique" Hank commented.

"Yea, she is, Hank" Charles agreed, standing up properly.

"In the beginning, Sentinels were just targeting mutants. Then they began to identify the genetics in non-mutants, who would eventually have mutant children, and grandchildren" Logan explained, watching Charles walk over to sit on a big couch at the side of the room. "Many of the humans tried to help us, but it was a slaughter. Leaving only the worst of humanity in charge. I've been in a lot of wars...I've never seen anything like this. And it all starts with her."

"Now, let's just say that, for the sake of...the sake, that I- I choose to believe you, that I choose to help you, Raven won't listen to me" Charles sighed, smiling sadly. "Her soul belongs to someone else, now. Hers isn't the only one."

"I know" Logan admitted, standing up. "That's why we're gonna need Magneto, too. And Climber."

Hank looked up, as if he hadn't heard those names in ages. "Erik? A-And Karmel? You do know where they are?"

"Yea."

Charles grinned in disbelief, laughing to himself. "Could you give me that one more time, please?" He rhetorically asked.

"You heard me" Logan replied, promptly standing his ground.

Charles continued to laugh as he stood up. "He's where he belongs. Him and Karmel both" he told, facial expression rapidly changing to one of disdain as he passed by Logan.

"Well, that's it? You're just gonna walk out?"

"Ooh, top marks" Charles raised his eyebrows, sassing Logan. "Like I said, you are perceptive" he pointed at Logan, walking backwards towards the staircase.

"The Professor I know would never turn his back on someone who lost their path" Hank noted, watching Charles walk away. "Especially someone he loved."

Charles stopped at the foot of the stairs. He took a step back, then one more before speaking again. "You know...I think I do remember you now" Charles said, walking back over to Logan. "Yea. Tall, angry fellow with the contentious hair. We came to you a long time ago, Erik, Karmel, and I, seeking your help. And I'm gonna say to you, what you said to us then..." he leaned in, getting right up in Logan's face. "'Go fuck yourself'."

"Listen to me, you little shit" Logan growled, grabbing Charles' shirt. "I've come a long way, and I've watched a lot of people die. Good people. Friends. If you're gonna wallow in self-pity and do nothing, then you're gonna watch the same thing, you understand?"

Charles searched Logan's eyes, confused at the audacity this man had.

Logan let go of Charles.

"We all have to die sometime" Charles walked away, for real this time.

"I told you there was no professor here" Hank reminded.

"What the hell happened to him?" Logan asked, turning around.

"He lost everything. Erik, Karmel, Raven, his legs" Hank sighed. "We built the school, the labs, this whole place, then, just after the first semester, the war in Vietnam got worse. Many of the teachers and older students were drafted. It broke him. He retreated into himself, I...I wanted to help, do something, so I designed a serum to treat his spine, derived from the same formula that helps me control my mutation" he shook his head. "I take just enough to keep myself balanced, but...he takes too much. I tried easing him back, as did Grimm, but he just couldn't bear the pain. The voices. Grimm tried countless times to- to help Charles, to slow him down to the dosage I take, but like I said, Charles, he...couldn't be helped."

"Grimm, uh...blue-haired guy, talks to and controls the dead?" Logan arched a brow.

"Yea. Grimm didn't want to waste away trying to help someone who couldn't be helped, so, he broke it off with Charles, and thus, Charles lost him. The treatment gives Charles his legs, but it's not enough. He's...He's just lost too much" Hank concluded.

Charles lay on his bed, eyes shining on the brink of tears. He looked over at his bedside table, specifically at a framed photo of Raven. Charles' chest went up and down with his restrained breathing, thinking back to the first time Raven and him met, as kids. His vision glided over the photo of Raven, to a tie. Not any tie of his own, or Hank's, but...an old friend's tie.

Karmel's tie. He had forgotten it at the X-Mansion back when he resided in it, and Charles kept it with the underlying hope of seeing Karmel again and returning it to him.

Charles knew how much Karmel's ties meant to him, and why they meant to much to him; all of Karmel's ties belonged to his father. He groaned softy, thinking back to when he first met Karmel.

"Uh, Karmel" Karmel repeated, outstretching his hand, "Karmel Rosenstein."

"Charles Xavier. Friend of Moira's?"

Karmel shrugged.

"Acquaintances, actually? Mutual friend" Charles corrected.

Karmel furrowed his eyebrows. "Yea...How did you- never mind- you?"

"Very recently acquainted. She brought me here to meet you."

Karmel's eyes went wide. "Uh- w-why? Why'd you need to meet me? What's happening? Moira, I- I don't like boys, but it's fine if you do Charles, but I-"

Moira raised a hand, putting back the book she was holding and cutting Karmel short. "I didn't bring Charles here to set him up with you, I know you like girls. I brought him here because I feel that you both have something in common."

"An obvious interest in girls?" Karmel insisted, hands on his hips.

Charles held back a chuckle. He knew Karmel had been locked up in Erik's heart for the past ten years or so- and vice versa. Charles thought that surely, today, Karmel was more embracing of his sexuality than he had been back then, when he used to live in fear of it.

"Karmel, Karmel-" Charles called, putting a hand on Karmel's shoulder. "It's okay."

Karmel slowly dropped his hands, raising an eyebrow. His vine art of Erik grew purple flowers, which bloomed quickly. Karmel's breath hitched at that.

"It's okay now, remember? I know, you know, we both know here. And I'm a hundred percent okay with what I know. As of our quick trip to Russia, so are you. It's okay, you're safe here. You can be who you truly are."

Karmel took slow, deep breaths, nodding. "Yea, I- I just...I guess I'm gonna forget sometimes, that it's okay. But it's hard to forget that on a scale of one to ten, he's a certified twenty. I'm...I love Erik, man."

"Which is okay" Charles cracked a comforting smile. "I'll be around to remind you. It's a slow process."

Charles could still vividly remember the way Karmel's vines looped around the wall of the mansion to form Erik's face, the pure detail of it all- Karmel had Erik's entire being memorized. He moaned in annoyance, getting out of bed and passing right by the tie and framed photo.

Back downstairs, Hank was organizing the study while Logan tried thinking of what to do next.

"I'll help you get her" Charles stood right outside the study. "Not for any of your future shite, but for her."

"Fair enough" Logan quickly replied.

"But I'll tell you this, you don't know Erik, and you definitely don’t know Karmel. No one knows them like they know each other. Karmel follows in Erik’s footsteps, his pain and anger pushing him to go faster and faster. Erik, that man is a monster, a murderer. You think you can convince Raven to change? To come home? That's splendid. But what makes you think you can change him?" Charles scowled.

"Because you and Erik sent me back here, together."

Charles stared deep into Logan's eyes, determined. "And- And what about Karmel, huh?"

"Listen, Professor. What Karmel does or doesn't do in the future isn't important. What's important is that we can change Erik, and that means him, too. Y'just gotta believe me."

***

"The room they're holding Erik and Karmel in was built during the Second World War, when there was a shortage of steel. So the foundation is pure concrete and sand. No metal. The walls are too thick for Karmel to grow vines out of, and the glass ceiling, he isn't strong enough to break his vines through" Hank described.

"They're being held a hundred floors beneath the most heavily-guarded building on the planet" Charles added, the three men looking over an aerial map of the Pentagon.

"Why are they in there?" Logan inquired.

Charles looked up at Hank, then over at Logan. "What, Erik forgot to mention?" He snickered.

"Uh, JFK" Hank timidly answered.

"...They killed-" Charles cut Logan off.

"What else explains a bullet miraculously curving through the air? At the perfect level from around some trees? Erik's always had a way with guns, and Karmel's always had a way, for the way Erik has a way with guns" Charles chuckled.

"Or just, Karmel's always had a way with Erik" Hank shortened what Charles said, down to its bare minimum.

"Are you sure you want to carry on with this?"

"This is your plan, not mine" Logan reminded.

"We don't have any resources to get us in" Hank complained, Charles chiming in by chirping "or out. It's just me and Hank."

"I knew a guy. Yea, he'd be a young man now. Grew up outside of DC" Logan giggled, shaking his head. "He could get into anywhere, I just don't know how the hell we're gonna find him."

Hank tore his gaze from Logan, to Charles. "Is Cerebro out of the question?" He whispered, Charles silently hanging his head as an answer.

"If only you guys had internet."

Charles looked up at Logan, eyebrows raised in interest.

"What's 'internet'?" Hank furrowed his eyebrows.

Logan sighed, shifting where he stood and turning back down to the map.

"We have a phone book" Hank then suggested.

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wildwren · 3 years

Text

The Last Kingdom // AU Canon Divergence // Erik x Aethelflaed // Rated Explicit // chapter can stand as a one-shot

Chapter Twelve: The Crow on the Cradle, read on AO3

Featuring: KID GANG - RUGRATS EDITION, Stiorra, Young Uhtred, Aelfwynn, OC Finan’s son.

CWs for the chapter: child endangerment, threats against children, graphic violence

The Lady Aethelflaed has gone to war, leaving Stiorra, Uhtred, and young Finric with the vague promise that their fathers might visit once the battle is done. That’s not good enough for Stiorra, though. If her father can’t make the time to come to her, she’ll go to him. And she’s willing to do almost anything to get there...

They rode slowly through the village. She did not want to risk drawing any attention. If they rode at speed, Stiorra thought, they’d be more likely to attract the curious, questioning eyes of villagers.

“They’ll recognize us.” Young Uhtred had been whining since they left.

“Well if they do, at least we shall not look guilty,” Stiorra said.

“But we are guilty.”

“Hush now.” Stiorra pulled the hood of her cloak a little closer around her face.

It was a relief when they passed through the village’s outer wall, following in the wake of a tanner’s cart.

“They’ll punish us, for stealing the horses.” It seemed Uhtred was incapable of not worrying.

“They can’t punish us if they don’t catch us.”

“They’ll notice that we’re gone.”

Stiorra jerked the reins of her horse slightly to cross Uhtred’s path. “They won’t notice!” She growled at him. “Anyone who cares about us is already gone! The new Lady only cares about Aelfwynn.”

Uhtred muttered something under his breath but did not protest. They continued at a walk until the village started to fade behind the crest of a hill.

“Do you even know the way?”

“Lady Aethelflaed said it was North,” Stiorra said, squinting at the Sun’s upward path. “How hard can it be? We ride North until we find a war camp.”

“And father will be there?” Uhtred asked doubtfully.

“Yes. Lady Aethelflaed summoned him and his thegns.” There was a moment of stiff silence. “Father only cares about war, so we must go to war to find him.” She offered the justification as much for herself as for Uhtred.

“I still don’t —” But Uhtred’s words were cut off by a sharp breathless cry from behind them, and Stiorra whipped her horse around to see two small figures running towards them with stumbling desperation.

“Wait!” The closest one cried.

“Is that —?”

“Aelfwynn!” Stiorra yelled. “What the hell are you doing?!”

Aelfwynn had collapsed in a wind-spent pile at the foot of Stiorra’s horse, panting deep ragged breaths. Finric was not far behind. Stiorra noticed that he’d been tasked with carrying the unwieldy lopsided sack that was, presumably, Aelfwynn’s runaway bag.

“We caught you!” Aelfwynn gasped in joy. “We caught them, Finric!” The little dark-haired boy was wide eyed with frantic exhaustion. “We thought we wouldn’t — you left without us!”

“Of course we left without you!” Stiorra yelled down at her.

“You left us with the babies!”

“You are babies!”

Aelfwynn looked truly wounded at that. She wiped a bit of dirty spittle from her chin. “We’re coming with you.”

“You are not coming with us!” Uhtred said, with an attempt at fierce sternness that just ended up sounding weakly desperate. “They are not coming with us!” He repeated, looking at Stiorra.

“You’ll walk back to the village.” Stiorra commanded. “Now.”

“We won’t!” Finric piped up, his eyes filled with the fire of child who’d been set to run a mile with a pack on his back. “We’ll follow your horses, you can’t stop us!”

“Oh, you think I can’t —?” Stiorra looked around on her saddle for something to throw at them, but came up empty-handed.

“My father will be there too!” Finric went on. “And Aelfwynn, well…” And he shrugged as if to say, It’s Aelfwynn, what can you do?

But Stiorra was fixing her eye backwards on the horizon, where the village had already vanished from view. She turned her horse away from the children and spurred it forward into a trot to continue along their route.

“What are you doing?” Uhtred asked from behind her, his horse still fixed.

“What does it look like I’m doing? We’re leaving.”

“You can’t just leave them here! On the road?! That’s — Lady Aelfwynn! What if she’s kidnapped?”

“Then that will be her fault.”

Uhtred’s horse made pace with her own and he reached out to grab her reins. “Stop. Stiorra, stop!”

Aelfwynn and Finric were limping along after them with bitter resolve.

“We don’t have time to take them back,” Stiorra said. Uhtred glared at her. “We don’t! We’re already a day behind the war band. We’ll miss them! And then we’ll truly be in danger, do you understand?”

“Stiorra…” He looked a little like her father then, stern and fierce with a bit of softness squishing out the sides of his glare.

“Fine,” she said, and she reached down to pick up Aelfwynn by the collar of her dress. The girl squealed as she was lifted onto the horse, but then settled on the saddle quickly, controlling her fluster. Uhtred did the same with Finric, and turned his horse back towards Tamworthig.

“We’re not going back,” Stiorra said coldly.

“What — ? We’re…we’re taking them?! Stiorra—!”

“Lady Aethelflaed can deal with them when we get there. We don’t have time, Uhtred.”

“And if we get them killed?”

“Then they’ll have gotten themselves killed.”

“You know we can hear you, right?” Finric asked, but Stiorra just said, “Hush.”

“Stiorra!” Uhtred cried from behind her. “ Stiorra! I… I think they’ll notice we’re gone now, eh?!”

She turned back to look at him and gave her most winsome smile. “Best take it at a canter then.”

She urged her horse forward and did not look back.

They stopped for the night on the outer edge of a small, tumbledown village. Stiorra had no intention of asking any of the villagers where they were. She didn’t want any impertinent questions about why a group of children should be out on the roads alone. Of course, this had the effect of making it impossible to discover how far they’d gone. But Stiorra was optimistic.

Still, it was wet. None of them had thought to bring a waxed canvas in their pack, and so they had to settle for the night in the hollow at the base of a great tree, and hope that its leafed boughs dampened the rain. Stiorra raided Aelfwynn’s pack as soon as she was able and found a few stale loaves and bruised apples, Aelfwynn’s finest cloak of woad-dyed wool with embroidered trim, and not one but two carved wooden toys. It would have been almost sweet, if it wasn’t so ridiculous.

Stiorra thought herself much more reasonable. She had brought a thick, coarsely woven cloak of dun brown wool, a carving knife, a small ax, a length of hempen rope, a spark striker, a water flask, a sack of oats for the horses, and a ration of dried meat in addition to her own stock of bread and apples. The waxed canvas was an oversight (What did you even bring the rope for? she thought to herself bitterly), but otherwise, she imagined herself quite an accomplished scout.

Uhtred spent a while collecting sticks for the fire, while Stiorra got a coal glowing in her tinder with her iron striker and a chunk of hard flint. But when she tucked the coal into the nest of sticks that Uhtred built, they just smoldered with smoky dampness until the tinder burned down to cold ash.

“They’re too wet, I think,” Uhtred said.

“Obviously they’re too wet! What kind of fool can’t gather dry sticks?”

“They’re all wet, Stiorra! Why don’t you try, and I’ll stay here playing with sparks?” Uhtred reached for the tinder kit, but Stiorra snatched it out of his grasp before he could open it.

“You��ll just waste all the char-cloth,” she said, a bit cruelly. “We’ll have to sleep without fire tonight.”

Uhtred glared at her but bit his tongue. He broke a stale loaf apart and handed chunks to of it to the young ones.

Aelfwynn accepted, using her other hand to wipe the back of her noise noisily. “Stiorra, I’m cold.”

“We’ll huddle under the cloaks,” Stiorra said, and pulled out Aelfwynn’s fine blue wool. “It’ll be destroyed by the time we get there, but there’s nothing to be done for it. If you had any sense, you’d have brought a horse blanket instead.”

Aelfwynn sniffed and muttered something that sounded vaguely like “couldn’t reach.” Stiorra’s heart turned a bit at the sight of the girl, cold and small and pale in the thin moonlight, and of Finric, huddled against her as he scarfed down his bread with all the grace of a starved weasel. But then she remembered how utterly not her fault all of this was, and the feeling passed.

“Stiorra,” Aelfwynn spoke again. “Do you…do you promise we’ll find mother?”

Stiorra sighed with barely controlled impatience. “I will…do…my…best, Aelfwynn.” The girl gave a little whimper and turned to bury her face in Finric’s dark head.

“Come. Come now.” Stiorra tried to temper her voice. “Let us huddle down now, before the chill sets in. We shall be warm soon, and…we can eat more in the morning.”

Aelfwynn nodded wetly, and the children all gathered together in the hollow with Aelfwynn’s fine cloak and Stiorra’s rough cape spread across them. Stiorra held Aelfwynn close against her, and felt the girl’s body shaking slightly with silent tears.

“Hush now, it will be well,” she whispered into Aelfwynn’s golden hair.

And soon they were warm and drifting into dream.

The day dawned with a thin light, the sun’s brightness watered down by thick gray clouds. But the sky did not spit at them, and the air warmed quickly, and Stiorra was in good spirits as they continued further North along the rutted Mercian road. At least, she was in as good enough spirits as she could manage, in the present company.

Aelfwynn was tired, fussy, and hungry. It was only to be expected in a well-spoilt child such as her. Stiorra struggled to not let her frustration boil over too much, but it was hard, as the children started to entertain themselves by telling tales of what they would do once they reached the camp.

“And my father,” Finric was saying, “my father is Lord Uhtred’s best warrior! And I will ride into battle with him, I think! I will sit on his shoulders and shoot all his enemies with my bow!”

Aelfwynn giggled.

“You don’t have a bow, Finric,” Stiorra said wearily.

“That doesn’t matter! They’re warriors!” He said, as though it were common sense that all warriors had a child-sized bow ready and waiting in case it should be needed.

“And I should like to ride on the ships,” Aelfwynn said. “It’s unfair, I think, it’s unfair that I shouldn’t get to ride on the ships. They’ll be my ships one day, won’t they, and so how am I to know if they’re any good?”

Stiorra nearly rolled her eyes into the back of her head.

“Stiorra.” Uhtred’s voice was low and tense, like a whispered net thrown over the children’s witless batter. “Stiorra, I think that rider’s been following us.”

Stiorra stayed very still and stiff in her saddle for a moment before turning to look over her shoulder with a light glance. There was a rider behind them - a dark-hooded man on a chestnut horse. Stiorra could not see his face. She turned her head forward again with the swiftness of a breath.

“He’s a rider, Uhtred,” she whispered back. “He’s just using the road like we are.”

“I know, but…I think…” Uhtred looked anxiously behind him again. “I’ve been watching him, and I think he’s holding his horse back. Why would he hold his horse back? He could pass us if he wished…”

“What are you talking about?” Finric asked, with a loudness that made Stiorra wince.

“Nothing,” she snapped. “Shut your mouth.”

“You wouldn’t say that if I had my bow, would you?”

“Shut up, Finric.” Perhaps it was because this was such an unexpected chide from Uhtred, but Finric did, in fact, shut up.

“Let us speed the horses,” Stiorra said. “They have walked long enough.”

“And if he speeds up too?”

Stiorra’s mind flared slightly with panic, and her eyes raked over the road in front of them. “We shall cut off into the trees, beyond that crest. We’ll try to hide.”

“Who are we hiding from?” Aelfwynn asked, with an equally ear-splitting pitch.

“No one,” Uhtred said. “We’re playing a game. Testing ourselves. Can you be very quiet?”

Aelfwynn nodded with wide eyed excitement, and Finric gave a wild grin. Idiot children. Foolish, ridiculous, Gods-cursed, idiot children.

She had to protect them.

“We go,” she whispered. “Three….two….one…NOW!” She kicked the horse savagely, and it bolted forward like a spooked doe. Uhtred’s horse kept pace, each one egging the other on with sudden, wild fear.

“He’s following!” Uhtred cried. “He’s matching our speed!”

Stiorra did not look back. She kicked her horse again, up and over the slope until she saw the copse of trees to the right of the road. Then she jerked the reins with all her strength, and the horse veered with a slight scream, kicking up mud with its pawing hooves. She thought she could vanish into the thicket, but then she saw that Uhtred had driven his horse to the left.

Damn the Gods! She had not said which side of the road, assuming Uhtred’s mind lay equal with her own.

“Uhtred!” She yelled in a hoarse whisper, and he turned with a wild cry, seeing her half-snarled in the facing brush. Stiorra could hear the rider’s horse drumming just over the cusp of the hill. Uhtred charged forward across the road, and together they crashed deeper into the wood, but the snap and rustle of their horses was deafening, and Stiorra could see the silhouette of the man as he crested the hill and drew his horse to a stop.

Stiorra slid off her horse, pulling Aelfwynn with her, and Uhtred did the same.

Aelfwynn squirmed and whimpered in her rough grip. “What’s happening? I thought—” but Stiorra covered the girl’s mouth with her hand.

“Hush. Get down!”

Finric was wide-eyed with fear and confusion, and there were two high spots of red on Uhtred’s face as he struggled to push the boy down into the brush.

“What if he’s from Tamworthig?” Uhtred whispered. “What if the new Lady sent him to find us?”

“They wouldn’t send just one man!” Stiorra had had the same thought and abandoned it. “He must be a rogue.” And if wasn’t….well, they couldn’t risk being found either way, could they?

The man had tethered his horse by the road and was stalking through the thicket with the careful movements of a hunting cat.

“I know you’re in here, little ones!” His accent was Mercian, his English clear and true. A Saxon. It made little difference to Stiorra.

Aelfwynn squirmed again, and then bit Stiorra’s fingers where they clamped over the girl’s mouth. She could not suppress a small cry.

“For God’s sake, Aelfwynn!”

“I couldn’t breathe!”

The man’s head snapped up at the sound, and Stiorra thought she could see his face sharpen through the shadow of his hood. He drew it down, as if to hear better, and his pale, scarred face came into view. Stiorra had never seen him before. He had not come from Tamworthig.

“I can hear you, little ones!” Stiorra’s blood chilled and the cool, cloying shape of his voice. He knew where they were. It would have been impossible not to see the shape of horses against the fine screen of leaves. He was playing with them.

“I just want to share your fire! To make sure that you’re safe! Little ones like you shouldn’t be out on the road, alone.”

“This isn’t a game, is it?” Finan’s spoke with a high breathy whisper, his chest pumping like a bellows.

Stiorra shared a grim look with Uhtred. There was no doubt in either of their minds anymore. This man would do them harm.

“The pack,” Stiorra whispered hoarsely. “Give me the pack.”

Uhtred slid it off his body and rolled it towards her as quietly as he could. She snaked her hand inside of it, finding each item in turn - a smooth Ashen handle, a rough cord…

“Get the children and the horses deeper in.”

“What are you —-?”

“Now!”

Uhtred moved with a strange, sliding stumble, trying to crouch and run and pull the horses all at once. If the trees had decided to pull up their roots and walk away through the thicket, it could not have made more noise than he did in that moment. But there was nothing to be done for it.

The man was moving faster now, but still with the careful, stalking quality of a predator. He did not think they would get away. He did not think they could get away.

Stiorra tied the rope with fumbling fingers, drawing rough, weak knots and weaving the cord through the interlocking stems of brambles. Her hands and arms were shredded by the thorns in a matter of moments. She could hear the fading sounds of the horses, and the high notes of the children’s voices as they vanished into the brush.

She was alone now. She sent a silent prayer of thanks to Uhtred for his trust.

She rose to her feet, and the man’s eyes widened at the sight of her, exposed and alone just a few paces from where he stood. He stopped, and his face drew into a sharp-edged grin. Standing so close, Stiorra could see how rough his face was, and how darkly his eyes pooled within it.

“Little girls like you shouldn’t be out alone. Someone might try to steal you.”

Stiorra could feel herself trembling. She balled her hands into tight fists until the shaking stopped.

“They’d have to catch me first,” she said. And she turned and ran.

The man crashed after her through the brush with loud, gasping grunts of effort — or of laughter. She could not tell. She had to fight the brambles too, and panic started to rise thick and sour in her throat like bile. He would catch her, he would catch her and…

But then she heard the strangled cry and the thump, as he was leveled by her rope, tripping over it and becoming ensnared in the mess of blackberry vines.

“You little bitch!” He yelled after her. “You think you’re clever?!”

She could have kept running. She could have taken her lead, found Uhtred and the others and fled on the horses. But he would have followed them, she knew.

Instead she turned, and stalked back to him. She was so thorn-whipped by now that the scratching, clawing fingers of the thicket did not faze her. The man was still struggling, trying to disentangle himself, but he had nothing to grasp onto but thorn-thick canes, and so he floundered in her trap. She kicked him as hard as she could, where his head met his body. He gave a scream and flailed against the ground.

“You’re going to kill me, little girl?” He gasped the words out, and then spat. Stiorra was pleased to see his spittle flecked red with blood.

“And if I leave you here?” She asked. “What will you do? Go back to your horse and ride South until you reach the Frankish sea?”

He laughed, a cruel low groaning sound in his throat. “I will kill you, little bitch. You think you can outrun me?”

Stiorra did not want to kill him. She had dreamt of battle and the glory of the fight, but the pale skin of his throat leered up at her now, and she thought it was a ridiculous, foolish thing to have ever thought she could kill a man. She imagined a blade in his neck, and the bile rose into her mouth truly then, thick and bitter and searing like a coal.

But then she thought of Aelfwynn, and the feeling of the little girl wrapped her arms, so warm and heavy and foolish and brave.

Stiorra had to protect her. She had to protect them all.

The man was pushing himself up onto his elbows, his face twisting with wickedness as he opened his mouth to speak again. The smooth ax handle was tight in her hand, its head glinting with a newly sharpened edge.

And then — somehow — it was buried in the man’s neck, like a plow in a fresh-driven field, and he was choking on the blood that flowed from his throat.

#the last kingdom #the last kingdom fanfic #tlk fanfiction #the last kingdom kid gang #stiorra #young uhtred #aelfwynn #tw: violence #tw: child endangerment #tw: child self defense #stiorra is a n g r y #multichapter but works as a one shot

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soufcakmistress · 2 years

Text

Charleston Blues

Part II

Pairing: Erik Stevens x Thick Black OC

“What you done did to me?” Chantilly examined her naked body with bugged eyes and every question in the world.

(I’ve molded you in my image. There are in fact still a few things that you need.)

Ursilene pointed her way and three separate lengths of waistbeads appeared on Tilly’s body, matching the color of her gown. A gold anklet was magically fastened on her ankle, and Tilly kneeled to rave over the detailing.

(Rise, girl.)

Ursilene was so tall, her head grazed the ceiling. One blink and she decreased in size to look Chantilly right in her eye. Her voice still unnerved Tilly. The way that it vibrated through her chest and resounded through her body; the new connection was powerful and terrifying. Ursilene smiled wide showing her smoke stained teeth and pulled out a tiny gold ring from behind her back.

(Stand still. This will hurt a bit.)

All of Tilly’s limbs were frozen in time as she stood. Her back stood straight as an arrow, with her arms out to her sides. She tried not to whimper but she had no idea what was going on. This being was capable of things that nobody would ever believe. The gold ring unfurled into a straight line, floating about Ursilene’s palm. Lightning fast, the gold ring aimed right for Tilly’s left nipple, piercing her flesh and curled in on itself, securing the perfect circle. Tilly screamed bloody murder, and there was plenty of blood that fell.

“Bitch!!! You couldn’t count or something???? Fuck!!!!!” Blood cascaded down her belly and her mound, and Ursilene released her. Tilly curled into a ball immediately.

(The world you once knew is gone. The woman you once were is dead. You have been burdened with tremendous power. Every sense you invoke, every thought you think, every feeling you experience…..will be heightened. Your physical strength will become overwhelming. Your mental capacity will expand to new depths. Your ability to carry out unthinkable acts in the name of justice will have no limit. Your compassion and patience for women and children will grow and evolve more than you thought possible. Is it starting to make sense?)

Tilly’s whole chest throbbed from the piercing pain. But she sighed sullenly and nodded. The shift had been almost immediate. Her vision was sharper. Each breath radiated through her body differently, almost as if her lung capacity grew. The pain from the piercing began to die down and Tilly dressed herself in a robe. “I would like to be alone. If I have your permission.”

(Take a few days. Feel your way through it. The others did the same. I’m orchestrating some things in the meantime. You will receive a call in two days time that will add to the many changes in your life. The prosperity I promised will be yours. But…..when I call for you….and by now you should know when I’m near…I need all of you.)

Tilly gulped and walked to the window, gazing at the newly manicured yard, with Pepper’s old self sleeping under the Spanish moss tree. No more termite riddled porch. No more cracked windows and raggedy shutters. No more chicken shit littered everywhere. A total turn around from 12 hours ago. “Yes, Ursilene. Understood.”

She disappeared in a cloud of grey smoke leaving the room smelling of incense. Tilly stood starstruck at the idea of a clean slate. Nothing would be the same from here on out. The vanity that used to be ruined now showed a perfect reflection of Tilly’s new appearance. She shed her robe, and looked at herself. Tilly had always been plump and adorable; now she looked like a beautiful subject of a renaissance portrait. Tilly felt more feminine than ever with her long kinky hair flowing as such. The gold jewelry made her feel juicy and luscious and she became aware of the wetness between her legs. Ursilene did say that everything was heightened for her now…

Looking at herself turned her on now. That never happened before. She touched her new nipple ring and circled it, causing the ache to grow in her womb. Tilly covered the soft curl covered mound with her hand and rubbed back and forth. Her face heated up dramatically, and she put her other hand in her hair. These weren’t things that good wholesome young women in 1958 should be doing. Her mother always said her body belonged to God and that masturbation was frowned upon. Is that why it felt so good?

Tilly had never felt such overwhelming pleasure before. She stumbled onto her bed, spreading her legs. Rubbing her clit around in the perfect circle, she pinched her nipple ring, and ascended to a bliss not known to this plane. As she made her way back to Earth, her body was covered in sweat, and her hand was covered in her womanly fluids. “I could get used to this hea’..”

“Back it up, back it up. Keep going! Okay, now stop. Perfect.” Erik directed the truck driver into the loading dock behind the store. This heat reminded him of old times and he pulled a bandana from his pocket to swipe his face. Erik Stevens was a Korean War vet who had seen death up close and lived to see another day. His ambitions led him to become one of the first Black commissioned officers for the United States Navy.

Erik knew suffering and pain, and he worked exponentially hard to ensure he didn’t feel that ever again. Orphaned from an early age, he set out on his own in Oakland as a second generation child of the Great Migration.

His father wasn’t American, but his mother was and they worked tirelessly in tandem to give him love and guidance while they were still here. Life had other plans for Erik however.

Erik had always been too smart for his own good. Slick and sly. Cunning and quick. He was 19 when he graduated from MIT, and working as a graduate assistant for the engineering department. It wasn’t enough money for him. Every night after erasing chalk boards and grading exams, he would use every penny he had in the gambling dens of Cambridge.

Italians and Irish in that part of Massachusetts had an alliance to split up the racket. Erik had been making waves amongst certain tables. He loved Blackjack. His math was perfect; he could feel out anything by the odds and win all of his bets. On more than one occasion, Erik would have to fight his way out due to some hating ass white boys that couldn’t stand to be embarrassed. His knuckles were permanently hardened and scarred like his heart and he preferred it that way.

Then the war happened. He was shortly drafted after news of conscription came to Massachusetts. Seven months after basic and specialist training, he would hunt, torture and kill for his country. He started to make a name for himself. Erik rose in the ranks and became a lieutenant for courage and bravery and attained a moniker that’ll follow him to the grave. Killmonger.

The blockade of Wonsan allowed him to garner medal after medal. Due to his vigorous show of enthusiasm, he had been selected for a ghost unit to infiltrate the Korean shores against the North Korean army. For every kill, he would slash his flesh as a reminder of the life taken and maybe also for the life that seeped out of him.

After the armistice, the Americans went home. But not all of them. Erik was able to receive the Medal of Honor and an honorable discharge with excellent service after the war and stayed overseas. America could be useful in the future but Korea had sights and wonders foreign to him that magnetized him to the peninsula.

Erik had several ins with artillery specialists from his navy days that he kept in touch with. He had a pristine system in place. Decommissioned weapons that “fell” off military utility vehicles made their ways to three separate warehouses he owned in Seoul, Busan and Kwangyang. The American was making money hand over fist selling black market arms to the highest bidder. He encountered all types and drowned in Korean pussy to ease his long days.

One auspicious day, Erik got caught fuckin with the wrong pussy, slaying some South Korean big shot’s mistress in his Busan office. How could he not resist? She looked innocent and yet had an endless throat that he couldn’t resist. By the time the goons infiltrated the warehouse, his cum was in her stomach. She turned around and pushed her panties to the side to take all of what Erik had to give, until a bullet whizzed past her.

Erik was able to get some shots off before he got his pants up his legs. But there were too many of them. He had already sent his team home for the night to have some alone time and someone had the jump on him. They swarmed the office with machine guns at the ready. The Korean boss stepped into Erik’s office, stoic and calm. In a last ditch effort, Erik pointed the gun at the mistress, threatening to end it all. “Take another step and you’re gonna be dry cleaning her fucking brain matter off your suit.”

He did Erik the favor of blowing her head off himself. Another two quick shots in Erik’s shoulder made his legs fall out from underneath him. There was a trap door under his desk and he immediately began to crawl to it in agonizing pain. He didn’t make it. The boss stood over Erik, and cracked a smile. Then, from his sleeve he pulled out an impossibly sharp and slender knife, gleaming under the fluorescent lighting.

Quicker than Erik could blink, the knife pierced his stomach seven times. Blood bubbled up his esophagus and coated his teeth instantly. The boss cursed Erik as he bled out and left him to die.

Erik managed to pull himself up against the wall, wheezing a bit harder, holding his side. He started to laugh at his circumstances. He had it coming. If it wasn’t him, it was the next boss whose wife he was fucking or finessed the deal on.

It seemed that at every point of his life, he courted death. It was the only constant thing in his life. So he wasn’t scared. He actually felt a bit of relief. His resignation truly set in when he began to gasp for air, and he could hardly hold his arm up to compress his wound.

The lights began to flicker. The file cabinets in his office rattled. Erik’s ears began to ring and what appeared to be falling through the ceiling looked to be a man. Their forearms and biceps were massive and rippled with muscle. He wore a caftan draped over one of his shoulders unlike any pattern Erik had ever seen. His skin was dark grey, with three vertical slashes along his forehead and golden irises.

(Your lack of discernment has led you here. Your lack of foresight has led you here. I have never seen a man act with such willful disregard for their life. Or others for that matter. In 120 seconds, your body will shut down from the lack of blood. Do you want to live?)

His life was flashed before his eyes immediately like a picture show. Before he dedicated his life to the underworld, Erik was a stand up guy, who had brief walks on the wild side. Erik cared about people. And then his heart was ripped out and he didn’t care to regain it. He cried softly. The being waited patiently until he was done. Their presence comforted Erik. “Maybe I don’t deserve to.”

(I am called Badoru. I have roamed this plane for millennia working to cleanse this planet of all evil that inhibit it. I will save your life. If you serve me, and promise not to lay a hand on anyone who did not harm or threaten you or your charges first.)

“My charges? What do I—“ Erik coughed up more blood and slid further down the wall. Tears of exhaustion flowed from his bloodshot eyes.

(I am a god of many things. Virility, strength, war, and death. I am also the watcher of new life. Any child born on this plane is covered by my protection and any harm is dealt without mercy. Which is how I found you. Erik Stevens, you may have substantial material wealth but you revel in an impoverished mind state. Accept my will and your days shall be long with joy.)

That was five years ago when Erik submitted to the will of his new god. Badoru showed him that Charleston was where his work was needed next. Still able to charm the best of them, Erik was able to get his hands on a heap of military surplus. Badoru blessed him with a business right on the low end of King Street, where the colored folks usually shopped.

At his behest, Erik took those weapons and brought them back to the states. Jim Crow was alive and well. Violence was rampant in segregated Charleston, and he wanted to make sure his community was armed. Erik would sell military surplus by day and sell weapons in the back by night.

“Well that’s just wonderful news. Thank you, thank you!”

This was it. The call that Ursilene told Tilly would come. The grain mill where her father worked on Edisto Island for all them years called to let Tilly know that there was a sizable pension check waiting for her to claim. $50,000. She damn near fainted when they said the number. Tilly had been skeptical these two days that passed but she sure shut up quick after this.

After the check was procured, as soon as she stepped off the boat back to Johns Island, Ursilene summoned her immediately. Tilly was a bit more adept at handling the visceral symptoms now.

(Return to your home at once. I will instruct you further once you promptly arrive.)

Tilly raced home from the docks and situated herself in front of the vanity. Sea foam green smoke blew in from a cracked window and Ursilene sat right next to her on the vanity chaise.

(Did I deliver like I said I would?)

“Yes yes yes Ursilene. I thank you. I thank you so much. I can hardly believe it!” Tilly blabbered like a kid who got the last piece of candy.

(Now, your bakery is in within your grasp. You shall have the finest for your space, I will see to it. Furthermore……I hope you are prepared.)

Tilly stiffened up and shook her head positively like a puppy. She wasn’t sure what to expect. But she made a blood oath that she couldn’t take back; she had to see this through.

One wave of Ursilene’s hand, and the mirror whirled counterclockwise into a viewing bubble of some sort.

(Little Marla. 13 years old. An 8th grader whose parents died tragically and is now living among several other girls at the Jenkins Institute. She loves music and listening to the radio. Her best friend, Sheila, loves to do hair and they practice on each other. They both have taken a liking to biology. Sweet girl.)

Tilly watches the young Black girl smooth out her poodle skirt and straighten up her white socks. The orphanage had a uniform, and Marla liked to look her best. She pulled her sleeve down and hissed at the bruise. The girl only looked for a second more before her friend realized her pain and continued to get ready for class. Tilly’s blood quickened at the very sight of her pain. Who hurt this beautiful child?

Ursilene snapped and what appeared to be a church’s pulpit showed up in the mirror. The pastor—tall, lanky, salt and pepper hair, and ruddy red skin—was named Dunne. Theodore Dunne had been pastor at Second Presbyterian Church for almost seven years now. A devoted husband and father, he dedicated his life to outreach, especially to children.

(Pastor Dunne. He has a ministry at his church specifically tailored to minister for Children’s outreach. They frequent the Jenkins Institute three times a month to bring donations and food drive items raised by the congregation. However, Pastor Dunne has an affliction even his word can’t heal.)

Ursilene flashed several scenes of ghastly scenes of Pastor Dunne inappropriately groping and grasping Marla, her face full of tears. Tilly’s ire grew so. She began to grip the vanity chaise, ripping the cushion from the legs of the chair. When Marla would fight back, he would get violent with her. Her shoulder had been dislocated before.

(Theodore’s day of reckoning is overdue. Hand her justice, Chantilly. Eviscerate him. Remove him from this plane of existence. And restore balance.)

No sooner had she said that, did Tilly have a plan. It’s never too late to gain some religion, right?

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#soufcakmistress #black panther #black southern gothic #Southern Gothic #erik stevens #erik killmonger #erik stevens x oc #erik killmonger smut #Killmonger #killmonger smut

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