Anime-kia

Almost two years had passed since you last saw Erik. Living in the city with your roommate, Melissa, had proven to be the perfect distraction. Through therapy and counselling, you were feeling much better. 

Your therapist, Tashelle, was a 50-year-old black woman from the islands. She was so relatable and comforting, something that you desperately needed versus the first therapist who used the hour session with a script. It was dreadful being in his bleak office and listening to his monotone and almost judgemental voice, that only caused you to be more anxious. It didn’t help that he furnished his desk with photographs of big cats. Erik loved big cats, especially jaguars.

You actually let him know of your discomfort to the images, but he said it would help you “face your fears” …as well as the fact that he paid an obscene amount for the baroque images. 

Tashelle’s office reminded you of one of those interior decorators in New York who spend two thousand a month for an eight-hundred square foot apartment. It was warm and colourful, but not overwhelming and the plants were a really lovely addition. In fact, you ended up grabbing a few low-maintenance plants for your room from the corner store across the street.

She encouraged you to work and be in spaces where people were. If you were too lonely, the quietness would create paranoia since Erik isolated you so often. He was always kind to you when there were more people around, so this would help you feel more secure. 

Your last job ended up closing down so you had to find something quick.

Luckily though, you landed a job at a high-end retail store as a cashier in a popular touristy area. It was owned by two sisters who handmade all of their clothing items. You were quite surprised to see people from all over the globe coming into the shop and spending hundreds of dollars. Usually tourists would find the cheapest shop to grab a couple destination tees, but the sisters were brilliant at marketing. The store would typically be at half capacity throughout the day, and maxed out around noon on the weekends. 

On your off days, you would lounge at home or hangout in the downtown area since it was always bustling. When there was nowhere to go, you could still find something to do. Usually your cousins or friends would offer to spend time with you either people watching or eating out at family-owned restaurants. 

Avanté was doing a lot better. You and your family flew out to visit him last year. He was still in physical therapy due to the damages he sustained from Erik. He had to relearn how to write with his right hand and he was still casted as Erik managed to break more bones than everyone originally thought. Gladly, Avanté was very healthy and his recovery went smooth, but it hurt to see him in such a frail state. 

Even though guilt washed over you, he never blamed you, nor did he make you feel like it was your fault. Instead, he aimed to focus on the positives. 

“We’re alive. My hand might be fucked up but I still got it.” He would smile at you so blissfully. 

He was right though, you were alive. But for a long time you weren’t living… Maybe it was because he was still out there.

Things did return to normal though. A new normal. Your cognitions, your relationships and eventually your daily routine. You were motivated to do the things you loved again. 

The stylist you would go to, Iyana, since you were ten was shocked to see you return after four years. Once you started dating Erik, he refused to let you go to anyone he wasn’t familiar with and she had a strict policy on guests.

“Why the fuck can’t I be there? You gon’ be gettin’ yo shit done for most of the day. You really think I trust you enough to be at some bitch house? Nah.” 

“How else am I gonna get my hair done, Erik?”

“Do that shit yourself. The fuck?”

He had you so fucked up considering it was for your sister’s wedding and you were a bridesmaid. 

It was the first major event since being with him other than prom, so you decided to book the appointment anyway. 

You selected an appointment slot for 8 in the morning assuming that Erik would be in class. However, you were petrified when you saw his car pull into her driveway, followed by five aggressive knocks on her door. 

Without making a scene you profusely apologized to Iyana, paid her in full and promptly left with half of your hair done.

Needless to say, your makeup ended up being a full beat instead of the soft glam you originally planned. At least, you had a drawstring ponytail to add to your slicked back hair.  

It was almost time to close up shop. Mia, your coworker, was sending the last few customers on their way. She was a blonde, had a long square face and botox filled lips. You’ve heard a few people call her a bimbo, but she wore that title with pride. Her large breasts and comical appearance helped drive sales through the roof. People would always take a picture with her after making a purchase, and when they insisted on just taking a picture, she wouldn’t allow it. 

“If you want a picture you have to buy something!” She would say in the nicest and most convincing way possible. They would even end up purchasing more than they originally planned. It was one of your daily highlights, coming in to work and watching this interaction transpire with majority of the visitors. 

“Goodbye, have a lovely evening!” She waved to the last customer and locked the doors. “Whew, what a day! I am so ready to get some drinks at the bar. Wanna come with?”

You removed the till from the register. “Girl, you know I’m not too much into that.”

“Oh come on, you never wanna hangout after work!” Her hands went onto her hips, “Plus, I can get us free drinks.” Mia suggested in a sing-song tone. 

You looked at her with an arched eyebrow, “I’d rather not be roofied.” 

“What!? I’ve never been roofied, (Y/n).” 

You didn’t say anything, only disappearing into the office to count the money for the night. Mia followed you to the back and sat on the desk, watching intently as you tallied each bill. 

She wasn’t giving up. 

Setting the wad of cash into an envelope, you looked at her, “Look. I might come, alright? Only because it’s Friday and I ain’t doing anything when I get home.” 

“Eeee!” She clasped her hands together in excitement and hopped off of the desk. 

“You go ahead, I’ll catch up to you.” You still had more to count.

“Okay, and it’s the one on Broadway, only five minutes away. So don’t be too long!”

“I heard ya.”

Mia was out the door and you were left to finish up which took another ten minutes. Once you were done, you placed the envelopes in a safe, grabbed your coat and made your way outside through the employee exit toward the main road.

The music travelled through the rustic bar. It was old, but based on the modern looking stools and upgraded sound system, you could tell that the owners were being replaced. It reminded you of how your previous apartment went from cozy beiges, browns and greens to cold blues, greys and blacks. Erik left no room for your decorative input, considering he paid all of the bills.

Usually you despised going anywhere after work without a shower and an outfit change, but tonight you felt cute. Your braids were neatly wrapped into a large bun atop your head and your makeup— a delicate beat, which survived for your whole shift. The black, long-sleeved maxi dress rested perfectly over your figure, just barely covering your tennis shoes. You looked amazing, and you knew it. Only recently were you able to start dressing up without criticisms or accusations of cheating.

You made your way through the room, glancing around the dimly lit space for your boisterous coworker. She was by the bar, chatting up a group of strangers who were obviously attracted to her extravagant appearance. 

“Ah! You didn’t bail!” Mia jumped out of her stool once she noticed you approaching the empty seat next to her.

“I told you I was coming.”

Her eyebrow raised slightly, botox preventing the full movement. “Girl, I know you— Four shots of tequila please.” She told the bartender who made quick work of pouring the alcohol into the glasses.

“Four?” You questioned her.

“Yeah girl, two for you and two for me!”

You chuckled, it was apparent she already had a decent fill of drinks. 

You both grabbed the little glasses, clinking them together before throwing it back. 

“Oooh! One down!” She squealed in excitement, grabbing the next shot. 

The tequila burned your chest, but it was smooth. “Alright, cheers.”

“Cheers!”

And down went the second shot.

This one didn’t go down as smoothly as the first one, you coughed a few times before grabbing the lime. 

Mia laughed, amused at your discomfort. “See, this is why you should come out drinking with me more often!”

Once you recovered you shook your head, “I ain’t trying to become an alcoholic, girl.”

“Oh whatever, you’ll be fine!” She fanned your concern away, rocking side to side as the music switched to an early 2000s playlist. Fergie’s Glamorous was playing, which had you moving in your seat too. 

“First class, up in the sky!” She hollered as if she was in a world of her own.

“Champagne, living my life!” You joined her, feeling a bit looser and ready to have fun.

You both sang back and forth to each other, even the other patrons joined in. 

“If you ain’t got no money take yo’ broke ass home!”

“Heads up ladies,” The bartender enthusiastically placed four more shots in front of you, “A gentleman just paid for your drinks.”

You glanced at Mia, cautiously, but she was still singing and picked up the shot without any regard. This really was a typical Friday night for her. 

“Come on, (y/n)! Free shots!” She hollered, downing them back to back. There were people cheering, and laughing all around. It was overwhelming but also a lot of fun. 

The glasses were empty, your skin warm to the touch with a buzz that made you feel light. This was really fun.

The last time you were in a club or bar without your guard dog was second year of university. It was you and some classmates, squeezed into a booth with sticky menus and $5 margaritas.

Erik was swamped with exams and a twenty-five page paper, but you gladly finished your last exam for the semester. He couldn’t even text you if he wanted to. Well despite the fact that you purposely left your phone back in the dorm.

You felt so free, so alive. Something you’d been working on for the past few years.

At some point, Mia pulled you onto the dance floor and now Promiscuous was playing. The crowd had followed, joining the two of you in the hypnotic rhythm, swaying and rolling your hips.

Mia caught your arm, spinning you in a ditzy circle. You both laughed, all thirty-two of her pearly whites on full display. She let go and waltzed back into the sea of people, letting the rhythm take her wherever. You continued to groove, eyes closed. Your tipsy state made you feel like you were rocking on a ship. 

As fun as the night was, the energy started to wear off, the crowd thinned and the music hummed more quietly. You were sleepy, fatigued from dancing and also standing on your feet for majority of the day. It was late, just about the time when the real creeps started to emerge from the shadows. You decided to grab Mia and head out before anything could happen. Your limbs felt heavy as you searched the bar for her, opting to asking the bartender if he’d seen where she sauntered off to.

“Just went outside.” He explained, pointing to the door. “She ordered you a margarita by the way, it’d be a waste to leave it.” He pushed the pink drink toward you.

“Of course she did.” You laughed, quickly chugging it. You were certain it was strawberry flavoured with the same tequila from earlier, but it had a stronger kick to it. “She is really trying to turn me into an alcoholic.” You scoffed, shaking your head. The bartender gave you a sympathetic chuckle before retrieving the glass. 

You were almost positive she ordered that drink for herself, but stumbled enough to show the bartender that she was at her limit.

You thanked him, slinging your jacket back on and made your way out of the bar quickly. You were within walking distance of your apartment, but you had to make sure Mia would be able to make it into a taxi. 

You stepped into the crisp air, scanning for her. You expected to see a few smokers and even a homeless person asking for some change, but it was quiet. The cool breeze prompted you to tug your jacket tightly.

Though her voice was faint, you could hear it drifting from the alley beside the building. You had half a mind to just go home, but another to go retrieve her. Alley’s were very unnerving and that last drink had you feeling worse than before. 

With a quiet sigh, you rounded the corner, the soles of your shoes crushing loose pebbles and gravel. It was dim, only a street light faintly illuminating her person.

“Mia?” You called out.

As you got closer, you could see that she was talking to a hooded stranger. Figuring it was her ride home (or a one-night-stand), you gave her a quick eyebrow-raise and smile combo, but her eyebrows lifted, and eyes widened in excitement, “Oh, there she is!” She pointed at you. “(Y/n), this man said he’s been looking for you!”

Looking for me? Your eyes narrowed, “What do you m-“

Time slowed down as the large figure turned around, revealing a set of gold grills that were shining eerily under the moonlight. Your heart felt as though it fell through your body, eyes widening and body trembling. Your tipsy state wore off immediately.

You were stuck.

In your mind you took off sprinting as fast as your possibly could, leaving the two bodies in your past. But there he was, staring at you with that same look of malice, but to everyone else it was just a normal smile.

Your feet wouldn’t move no matter how hard you tried. Your survival instincts were damned, ruined so badly that your body forgot the principle of fight-or-flight. You were like a deer stuck in headlights staring at this man. As your heart rate increased, your body shook. It was subtle, but every inch of you vibrated. Your words were at a loss. 

“Wassup?” He cockily smirked. Everything about him emitted dominance and evil. Every stride he took towards you had your spirit crumbling. “You’re free to go, Mia.” He waved her off with one hand and she happily departed, waving goodbye.

What did he mean she was “free to go”?

Finally finding your voice, all that came out was shock. “Wha-“

Erik finally got close enough to tower over your frozen frame, as he used to. You winced with a trembling jaw as he lifted his hand to stroke your cheek. “Its been so hard tryna stay away from you, baby. Two years. Two fucking years.” He grabbed your face this time, fingers depressing your cheeks. 

“H-how-“ 

“I can’t tell you all my tricks.” He bent down to look you eye to eye. “But you’d never suspect a coworker, hm…” A chuckle, “Fuck could a blonde bitch know ‘bout a nigga nicknamed Killmonger?” 

Your knees buckled, but he caught you with that same arm. 

It was all an act?

He could see the question in your tear-filled eyes, “You really thought you could get away from me? On some real shit?” His tone grew aggressive, and he shoved you against the wall. 

The weight of your body heavily slumped against the bricks.

Help me, someone please.

“Don’t trip. I’mma remind you.” You could practically feel that sinister grin he would often do. 

The only one who can save you is yourself. 

Those words were from Tashelle, wise words she said to you during your sessions. Unfortunately, she used them in a hypothetical sense, and not so much practical. Either way, you tried it. 

A powerful elbow met with Erik’s abdomen and for that split second he released you with a pained groan. Your feet were moving faster than your brain as you dashed toward the main road, but Erik was faster. 

So much faster. 

Barely making it out of the alley, the collar of your coat was dragged backwards, sending you into his hard chest. A vice grip went around your neck, fear surging through your mind as he restricted your airflow. Already weakened by the now obviously drugged beverage, you struggled to stay conscious. 

You tried your best to plead with him, and apologize but the grip that he had was too tight. The most that got out were gurgles as you desperately tried to reclaim your breath. The tears flooded out as reality started to kick in.

He really found you— actually… He knew where you were all along.

“Two years, and this is how you greet me?” He seethed, tightening his grip. Your nails clawed at his hand, whimpering and struggling against him. “Don’t you see that I love you, (Y/n)? Why the fuck is it so hard for you to get that?!” His calloused hand overlapped your mouth as if your desperation grew too noisy for his liking.

As he continued to spew nonsense, your state of consciousness dwindled until the entire world went pitch black. 

A pounding headache accompanied by knuckles grazing your cheek suddenly woken you out of your deep sleep. Fear crept along your skin which ached from the night before. Unaware of the time of day and your location, you dreaded opening your eyes. The reality of who was looming over your body kept you frozen. Badly, you wanted to make an attempt at escaping, even without properly assessing your situation, but you knew it was futile. The fact that you were back in this man’s presence alone told you enough. 

As your consciousness slowly regained, a familiar sensation grasped you. The worn out vinyl beneath your fingertips, the stale smell of rubber and dirt filled your nose. The surface firm, but soft, though you felt the two-hundred pound mass pressing you further into the seat. 

The air from his nose was hot against your chest, as if he nestled his head there. “Rise and shine, princess.” He spoke harmoniously. 

He knew you were awake. 

He was too close.

Unexpected fingertips trailed along your thigh causing you to flinch and drag your leg away.

Erik chuckled, opening his palm and gripping your thigh, hard. You whimpered. “Always tryna run from me.”

Your heavy eyes fluttered open to an empty bus and him in your peripheral. It was too intimidating to look his way, too frightening to accept the reality, so you kept your eyes casted down onto his strong grasp. 

Erik’s free hand grabbed your chin, forcefully turning your head towards him. “Look at me.” He demanded, but you refused, still focused on anything that was not him. “I said look at me!” He barked, and this time you did. Your pupils were dilated, and eyes red. Mouth quivering as you got a full look of your captor. 

He was bigger. So much bigger.

His bicep muscles were practically bulging out of his black long-sleeved shirt. His dreads messily scattered across his forehead, unshaven beard and piercing eyes that bore into yours giving him a rugged and intimidating look. He almost appeared primal.

It was obvious, your physical chances against Erik were slim to none. He loomed over you with such force and dominance, reminding you of the fragile position you were in. Upsetting him wouldn’t be wise. 

But how wise could one in fear be?

His grip loosened just slightly before letting go, leaving an ache in your jawline. He stood up, the corners of his mouth tugged slightly upward before falling flat.

“You ain’t come looking for me.” He stated.

Unable to comprehend, you questioned him. “Wh-why would I ever do that?”

“Because you need me.” 

Automatically your head shook from side to side, voice in a whisper, “I-I don’t… Need you.”

“You do.” He plainly responded staring into your eyes with a strong intensity.

Still you shook your head, this time without a word.

“You really think you here because of yourself? Nah mama, I allowed you to live.” 

An eyebrow shot up at his ridiculous words. 

“It didn’t take much to find you either. I know you… I know you more than you know yourself.” 

“Stop.” You quietly protested. 

“It’s laughable to know how easily people give up information for money, (Y/n).” 

“N-no…”

“Yes.” He nodded, “Mia? Yeah, you know your coworker, the one with them fat ass lips and them big titties? Shit, she was too easy.” 

“Stop.” Tears began to fall from your eyes.

“What’s your roommate’s name? Melinda? Nah, that ain’t it.” He paused for a moment, “Ah, Melissa. Yeah. Her. Putting all yo’ trust in a bitch who thinks crystals gon’ give her powers… You goofy as fuck for that.” 

A sudden burst of confidence came over you, “But you spent money to track me down, you desperate son of a bitch!”

He grinned again and shrugged, “Maybe… I let you have your time though. Even when you disrespected me going on all those dates and letting niggas into your apartment. I should fuck you up for that shit.” His grin was replaced with an intense gaze. 

“You were gonna do that anyway!” 

“That’s where you’re wrong. I could’ve, but I didn’t.” 

“You drugged me, choked me out and kidnapped me, motherfucker!” You seethed.

“That’s what you enjoy, right? You love when my arms are around that lil’ neck.” 

“You’re fucking sick.” You sniffled, “Please, just let me go. I won’t say anything.” 

Erik looked towards the back of the bus then back at you. 

“I believed that once.”

“Please, Erik.” You begged in desperation.

He then walked in the direction he was looking in and opened the back of the bus. “Go.” 

The sound of the ocean suddenly became apparent.

You stared at him in confusion. “Wh-“

“You said you wanted to go, so go.” His flat tone hinted at a dare, as if he had something planned. 

The front door was locked, and the windows were covered in a layer of smog. It was probably early in the morning, just before the sun began to rise. The air was cold and damp from the previous night of rainfall. It was dark, but not darker than the man who stood by the open exit. 

You scooted out of the rough seat, each movement reminding you of the pains in your body.

The fall breeze caused a chill over you, but what was more concerning was the aggressive sound of loud waves crashing against a rock beneath you. Your damp eyes widened at the horrors of your situation.  

It was the last day of senior year. You, Erik and some other friends were at the bluffs, enjoying a day by the ocean to combat the hot California sun.

“How much would someone have to pay y’all to jump off that cliff?” Your friend, Josiah asked the group.

“A million.” Stacy quickly answered, stooping down to collect a seashell.

“Girl, that’s how much they bout to take from you at the hospital!” You quipped. “No one is surviving that.” 

“Okay, okay. Guaranteed survival. No hospital.” He countered. 

You thought for a moment before looking at Erik who was gazing at the cliff, appearing as if he was considering the question for himself. 

“Shit, I don’t think money would be enough!” You finally answered. 

Stacy caught the look that you gave Erik, “Well if not for money, then what about to save a life?”

“Depends on who.” You retorted back to your ambitious friends. “And why am I jumping off a cliff to save anyone anyway?” 

“You taking this too literal, (y/n)!” Josiah complained, kicking sand in your direction.

“Hey!” You laughed, kicking it back at him. 

“Hey!” Erik’s voice brought you back to your senses. “Gon’ and go.”

“N-no, Erik.” You backed away with unsteady knees, but a scream erupted from your core as your body was pulled forward out the door— back facing the eminent doom and eyes locked on the one causing it. “Wait!!! Stop please, no!!!”

Erik was gripping your arm with one hand. “You said you wanted to leave, and this is the only way I’m letting you out.” 

“Help, please!!! Anyone!” You wailed and cried, desperate calls for help falling upon no ears as the crashing waves drowned them out. 

“I already said, if you not gon’ be with me then you got no one else, baby. So whatchu’ want?”

You didn’t know what you wanted at this moment, to just let go and be free or to obey that natural instinct to survive? 

“All you gotta say is you wanna be with me.”

You avoided swaying in his grasp for the chance that he could lose his grip, but your fear of heights settled in. “Please!!!” 

“Make your decision, (Y/n).”

“Don’t do this!” You whined with clear terror in your voice. 

“Say it!”

Your head shook as a reflex, but he loosened his hold ever so slightly sending you into a fit of desperation, clawing at his arm with both hands, screaming loudly in fear. He remained unfazed by your frantic panicking, maybe even enjoying it. 

“Say it!”

“I-I want to be with y-you.” You cried, but apparently not convincing enough for you as he released even more. “Ahhh!! Please, Erik. I want to be with you and no one else!!” Your eyes were burning from the sea water air, head aching from your tumultuous pleas to your captor. “Please, don’t let me fall!”

In that instant, he pulled you back into the bus. Well really, he threw you into the bus so hard that you slid across the floor, scraping your arm and leg on the rigid walkway. The braided bun that rested on your head from last night was now lopsided with strands falling out. Your dress was ripped in various areas and covered in different dirt marks. You laid on the ground, shaking, feeling a soreness along the entire side of your body.

The back door slammed closed, and he sinisterly chuckled. “See. Now was that so hard?” His boots thudded against the ground before sitting in a seat next to your body. “You need me, and you gon’ learn that shit.” 

He stared at you for a moment with a smug smirk before getting up. 

“It’s a long road ahead, so I advise you behave yourself.”

Your cries grew silent, feeling him step over you. The engine started and the ground began to vibrate. You wondered if risking the fall would’ve been better than this. 

Somehow, you managed to haul your aching body into the seat. The cool leather contrasting the heat underneath your flesh. The broken skin pulsed, nasty purple bruises shaded your arm and thigh. 

They always told you black people don’t bruise easily, but that’s because they never met a beast like Erik. A rainbow would envy your ability to change colour if it was sentient. Or maybe it would cry for you instead. 

Doing your best to stay out of his view, you laid across the bench trying to not irritate the fresh wounds. You closed your tired eyes, drowning out the rumbling of the bus and his mumbling from the front. 

“You not gon’ answer me?”

Choosing to remain silent, you heard him chuckle. 

“It’s aight, imma talk though.” He went on. “I finally figured out where we going.”

This caused your ears to perk up. Was he just driving around aimlessly to torture you?

“I got some family that gon’ be happy to see me.” A devious tone to his statement made you wonder how truthful that was. 

As he continued to ramble you looked at the opposite window. I could squeeze through, I think.

An ambitious thought, but likely fatal. 

Back in high school, you remember hearing about a guy who thought it would be funny to stick his entire arm out of the window on the interstate. He returned to school the next fall with one less limb. 

The thought made you shiver along with the words that left Erik’s mouth.

“Just so you know, I know where that nigga stay.” 

Your eyes widened.

“It’s fucked up that my boys stayed true to me and you didn’t, baby. So if you try to leave me again, I’ll give him a special ticket to meet Jesus.” He could hear you gasp, “And he ain't the only one.”

You’re not sure when you started crying again, but the salty stream ran down into your ears.

“All it takes is one call.” Erik warned.

After what felt like hours, the bus turned off into an old abandoned-looking gas station. There were four pumps lined in front of the store. The windows were boarded up with metal gates, and the paint was peeling off of the walls. 

The engine shut off and you heard Erik’s shoes thud against the ground in your direction. He made an obnoxiously loud groan as he stretched his arms. 

“C’mon.” He demanded, “Grab some snacks and piss if you have to.” In his palm was a twenty dollar bill pointed towards you. “I got a few calls to make.”

Without arguing, you sat up and carefully took the money from his hand. As you began to walk past him, a hard grasp to your backside halted your movement. You wheezed and trembled at his touch. 

“Hold on.” His finger slid into the hole in your dress and he tore the fabric apart. You stared in horror as the bottom of your dress fell to the ground. It stopped mid-thigh. He then draped his sweater over your head. “Can’t have you going in there looking like you was fighting.” He grinned. 

If you could cry anymore, you would. That was the first dress you bought since being able to leave your house after the entire fiasco a few years ago. It made you feel liberated and sexy. Now this man literally ripped it away from you, the same way how he stole your freedom. 

You lead the way, feeling his predatory gaze. The bus doors opened and you made it down to the last step, only to realize that you misjudged it, falling flat onto your face. Your legs were in so much pain that you hadn’t realized actually using them required more effort than you originally thought. 

It was also the aftermath of the drinks.

Your gracious captor hopped down, helping you onto your aching feet. “Damn baby, you making this story easy for me.” 

“Wha-“ You glared at him, painfully peeling out the rocks that were embedded into your skin. You got another glance at that disgusting bruise on your leg, starting to realize what he meant. 

The windows may have been boarded, but they could still see through. It was even proved when you got in the store and immediately the older gentleman behind the counter said, “That looked like a hard fall, lady. Your skin is all cut up.” He sounded southern. “You alright?”

No… 

“I’m okay, I’ve had worse…” Which was completely true. “Could I use your bathroom?”

“Certainly, here ya go.” His wrinkled hand grabbed the bathroom key from underneath the counter and handed it to you. 

The store was practically empty, only bypassing one other customer with a mean tattoo marking around the back of his head on the way in. He merely glanced at you as he held the door open. In fact, the man looked somewhat strong enough to take on Erik. 

You limped to the bathroom and locked yourself in. Surprisingly, it was a bit more clean than you imagined. There was a subtle smell of funk, but the floors were almost shiny and free from litter that people decided was better on the floor than in the garbage. The toilet still had a black ring inside the bowl, and you dare not sit on the seat. 

After releasing your bladder, you made it to the sink. In the mirror, you saw a corpse. The complete opposite of last night. Your eyes sunken in, and bruises and indents of rocks were littered across your cheeks and forehead. Erik’s sweater had your blood pooling through the sleeve, and you didn’t need to look down to know your leg was leaking into your shoe. You wished you had a pair of scissors to cut your braids out. 

You did your best to wipe away the blood and make yourself appear less dishevelled. Then three knocks came to the door.

“Miss, you alright? You been in there for a while.”

It was the cashier.

Though he meant no harm, you were quite irritated at the question. It’d only been eight minutes, and if he had to go he could’ve just said that. Even Erik didn’t hassle you to hurry up this time around.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine.” You agree with a huff, finally making it out of the bathroom, “Thank you.”

He stepped aside, “If you need any first aid supplies we got ‘em in the third aisle.”

You nodded at him, throat feeling too sore to say anything else. At least for now. 

Erik was still outside on his phone, you could see him leaning against the bus. He was looking in the store with an impatient gaze. 

You scoped the shelves for your favourite snacks, trying to make some light in this grim situation. Fortunately, you found everything you were looking for. With no idea where Erik was taking you nor how far, you wanted to get as much as you could. 

You held everything with two arms, dropping them onto the counter. The cashier gave you a look with one eye behind his glasses then looked back down.

“You from around here?”

You shook your head. What even is here? You wondered. 

You scanned the shelves behind the grey-haired man looking for some sort of indication, but it only left you with more questions. Certainly, you couldn’t have been that far out of California, maybe somewhere within Nevada considering the dryness of the land. 

“I ain’t surprised, it ain’t much till you get about a hundred miles out.” 

You gave him a half smile, contemplating if you should try your luck at revealing your scenario. He appeared quite feeble and wouldn’t stand a chance against the mass of muscle outside, but you’ve heard of sleeper builds before. Maybe he was one.

“Oooh, starbursts! These were my granddaughter’s favourites when she was little. I used to have a pack for her every time she’d come to the house.”

Again, all you could do was smile. You could tell he wanted to have a conversation, but the tension in the air was apparent. He bagged the snacks and handed them over to you, accepting the money.

Finally, the old man sighed. “Look, I ain’t tryna intrude or nothin’, but you look like you saw a ghost.” He hands you your change.

Nothing like an old person to call you out on your appearance. He then gestures his head towards Erik. 

“It ain’t normal to see young folk in these parts, ‘specially not on a yellow bus.” He leans in and keeps his head low, “You alright, missy?”

You nodded slightly, taking the receipt from his wrinkled hands. 

His mouth formed a straight line, eyebrows furrowing together. “Mmh, alright.” He looks out the window and your head follows noticing an absence. Erik must’ve gone back into the bus, you assumed. 

This was your chance. 

“Do you have a pen?” You suddenly asked. 

“I uh…” His eyes searched around the counter, “Here it is.” He pulled out a red pen and handed it to you.  

With one more glance at the window, you took your receipt, writing down ‘Help’ and quickly slid it back over to the man. 

His calm demeanour changed to something more urgent. “You stay in here, I’m callin’ the cops right now.” He said, picking up the shop phone from the wall. 

You nervously watched as he began dialling the number, wishing he could move half a second faster. 

The operator picked up, “911 what’s your emergency?”

Suddenly, the hairs on your neck stood at full attention feeling a presence looming over your bruised body. 

“Put the phone down.”

The stealth this man possessed was terrifying. You shared a desperate look with the cashier, cold metal aimed directly at his head. 

“Please, Er-“

“Shut the fuck up.” He was quiet as a means to not draw suspicion, but his tone was full of authority.

The old man continued to stare in disbelief. 

“Hello?” The operator continued to speak.

Erik pointed to the base of the phone, “I ain’t gon’ ask again. Do it now.” 

Obediently, the man placed the phone back down clearly valuing his own life. “Listen, you don’t gotta do this. Y’all are both young, got yer’ whole lives ahead of you. Just let her go,  and I won’t report nothin’.” 

“Playing hero, huh?” Erik’s rough hand lands onto your shoulder as he snorts, “That would’ve been believable, but you called 911. You don’t even know her, bruh.”

“I’ve seen more than enough to know what kinda man you are.” 

His fingers gripped harder into your shoulder, “And what kinda man am I?” He challenged.

“A coward.” The man quickly reached under his counter to grab what you assumed was a shotgun, but Erik was just that much faster.

The gunshot was silenced and you watched in complete horror as the older gentleman’s blood splattered onto the shelves. His body made a loud ‘thud’ onto the ground. 

Erik sighed and stepped around the counter to assess the damages. “Look what you made me do, (y/n).” 

You trembled, arms and legs feeling like jello, mouth dry and eyes wide. Your sore throat only permitted you to dry heave as the sight made you nauseous. You’ve seen Erik beat the shit out of people till they were black and blue, but never murder.

The door chimed again, but you were too frightened to look away from the scene in front of you. It sounded like three other people entered the store, but no one reacted to the situation at hand.

“Clean this up.” Erik demanded. There was no way he could be talking to you, right?

Your legs finally gave out, and the world went black again.

A hum that you grew entirely too used to brought you back to your senses. But you were numb, fingertips and toes slightly twitching. Your head was throbbing intensely. 

“Aye, E. She’s waking up.” A voice from your left spoke. It sounded like a Hispanic man in his early 20s. 

Heavy footsteps approached your body, but you kept your eyes closed. He sat down in the seat across from you, “I got it from here, go to the front with Klaue.” 

Based on the steps growing distant, you could tell the man did as he was instructed. 

“I know you hearin’ me.” He began in an oddly soft tone, “You hit yo’ shit hard too.” His hand reached to the top of your head in which you flinched. “What did I tell you, baby? I thought I made myself clear. You thought I sent you in there without knowing you was gonna try to get that old motherfucker to help you.” He scoffs, “Fuck you think I am?” 

He was right, it was odd that he sent you in there looking beat up and without him hawking over you. 

“If you just listened, he would probably still be alive… Oh and speaking of niggas being alive.”

Your eyes shot open, revealing a wicked smirk from Erik.

“Oh, you know where I’m going with this.”

“Please, don’t.” You begged, it was almost inaudible based on how hoarse your voice was.

“Mmh, you right. You might go insane knowing you got two bodies under your belt in one day.”

It was disgusting how much he had over you in this moment. It made you regret asking for help as all it did was bring more devastation and misfortune to the lives of others… And yours as well. 

“But maybe I’d like that. I love a crazy bitch.” He teased.

A grimace of pain crossed your face. Glancing ahead, you noticed that there were three other heads on the bus. A skinnier-looking male with a short and messy mullet, perhaps the one who alerted Erik of your wakeful state. Another with a slender stature and jet-black hair, and the last one you recognized was the man who passed you in the gas station. 

You wondered if this was why Erik was outside for so long instead of keeping tabs on you.

“How far are we from the safe house?” Erik asked.

“Ehh, two more hours.” The one with the tattoo replied. 

“Bet.”

Great, maybe you should’ve grabbed the first aid kit and Tylenol. You had no idea how you were going to last through these last two hours, especially with Erik sitting across from you, watching you like a hawk. The other three were chatting up a storm about some plans, hostages and you even think the word vibranium was mentioned a couple of times. 

Finally, the bus pulled into an old warehouse. Everyone vacated, you being the last one to get off. Your headache somewhat subsided but your muscles felt like they seized up.

It hadn’t even been a full two days yet so you knew no one was looking for you. The last person you spoke to was your mom letting her know you’d be stopping by on Sunday to drop off a bouquet of dahlia’s and peonies for your grandmother’s birthday. They were supposed to be having a little get-together at your parents’ house. Just a few cousins, aunts and uncles. Your absence will surely bring great concern, everyone knows how much you lovedyour grandma. 

You were guided into the large building, rather, dragged in by Erik’s firm hold on your bicep. This was likely where he was staying considering the interior looked quite lived-in. There was not much in the front other than rusted rims, broken-down cars and a few lockers. However, through the side door, the warehouse looked just like your typical criminal hideout. There were bookshelves, couches, desks, computers and TVs. There was even an area that had a fridge, dining set (plastic chairs and a fold-up table) and other small appliances. It reminded you of the break room at work.

Eventually, you were led into an isolated room near the back. Expecting to see chains along the wall and nothing but an old murky area, you were surprised at the comfort instead. It was clearly where he slept judging from the scent of the room and the indent on the left side of the double-bed. 

How in the world were they able to pull this off? It made your head spin considering the man shoving you was technically on-the-run. 

“This is where you’ll be staying from now on.”

“Wha- Absolutely not.” There was no way he was suggesting you lay in the same bed as him.

He strolled over to the bed before sitting down with wide legs, and a smug look on his face. “What, you scared?” 

“I am not sleeping with you, Erik.” 

“Oh?” He suddenly leaned forward looking more intrigued, “Then where, the floor? Well news flash, baby, this ain’t the Ritz Carlton. When a rat go crawling on your face or a spider lay some eggs in ya ears ion wanna hear shit. You should be thanking me, I coulda had yo’ ass locked in the storage.” 

A horrified look plastered your face. Sure he was just as vile as rats or spiders, in fact, you almost considered the latter, but you feared both just a little more than you did Erik. 

He grinned, knowing your decision. “Go clean up. Bathroom is the second door on the left. There’s some towels and rags under the sink.”

Without another word, you headed down the hall. Part of you had the urge to explore the building and find potential escape routes, but you were exhausted and barely able to stand without using the wall for assistance. 

The shower was quite soothing, hot water rolled down your aching back all the way to your toes. The dirt, grime and blood washed off into the drain. Your bruises were quite tender, but you didn’t mind. A hot shower always calmed you down, but now that you were all alone, you broke down. 

He found me.

That feeling of being free was never real. You always felt as if he was watching you, never knowing when he would strike. It wasn’t until you started to feel fine that you stopped checking over your shoulder and you opened up to trusting men again. Perhaps it’s why he decided to make a reappearance. 

Erik always wanted you to be afraid of him, too afraid to leave him. Never did he imagine you would actually do it, and even go as far as shooting him for another man. It made him furious. 

You were huddled in the corner of the shower, staring at the wall with dead eyes when Erik came in. 

“Get out. You been in here too long to not be done.”

Your eyes tracked onto him, refusing to move an inch.

His eyebrows furrowed, “Get the fuck up. Now!” He barked. 

You flinched but remained in place. 

He stormed over to the shower, grabbed your bun and pulled you back underneath the water. This wouldn’t have been too bad, but the water became ice-cold ten minutes ago. 

You screamed as the water pelted your skin. “S-stop!” This time you tried moving, but his grasp was firm against your scalp. Your wailing and pleas fell on deaf ears as he watched your palms slap against the tiles as you tried to break free.

It felt like an eternity before he let up, pulling you to your feet. 

All of the comfort you felt was gone in an instant.

Your body shook, whether it was from the cold water or his presence, you were unsure. The jitters made it nearly impossible to stand up straight so your legs gave out and you collapsed back onto the cold tile. 

The tears that lined your bottom lids began to splatter onto the ground, arms trembling as they tried to support your weight.

He treaded over, kneeling beside your frail body. “Get. Up.”

“F-fuck off.” You managed to say through a strained voice.

“Hmm… So you not done?” His hand reached for your scalp again, fingers bypassing each braid to get to the root. “Maybe another cold shower will clear yo’ head right up.” 

Your body slid against the floor with some resistance as you put up a fight, but he was always so much stronger. “Let me go!!”

The wound on your leg was fresh and you could feel it splitting open. However, the thought of nearing that frozen shower was even more painful.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please!” You screamed and begged, just as he began opening the door. “I’m so sorry!”

A pause.

The burning sensation in your scalp began to calm, but not without a remnant ache. 

He knelt down again and spoke more calmly, “You done?”

You didn’t respond, only catching your breath and trying to slow the tears falling from your eyes.

“I asked you a question, baby.”

You nodded repeatedly, afraid of what was to come if you didn’t. 

“Good.” He said in a flat tone, a hand reaching out to cup your face. “You better not forget who the fuck you belong to, and if you do I promise I will remind you over and over again until you get it.” He stood up, folding his arms across his chest. “Get your ass up.”

You did, clutching onto the shower door handle to support your weight. Warm liquid trickled down the side of your leg and the source stung something vicious. 

Erik glanced at the reopened cut, but didn’t react. 

You felt faint, but you feared falling back onto the ground. The atmosphere was intense as he continued to stare at you and you could see in his eyes what he was demanding. What he wanted you to ask. Your pride refused, you wanted to shout ‘hell no!’ refusing his “kind acts of service” knowing that this was a manipulation tactic.

Your head automatically began to shake left and right, slowly. 

He smirked, fuelling your frustration because you knew you had no other decent choice. “What’s the matter, princess?” He questioned in a disgustingly sweet tone.

Refusing, you tried to grab the beige towel from the counter you set down prior, however you stumbled almost immediately into his arms. A ridiculous moment that frustrated you beyond imagine.

The tears fell even harder, it sickened you. Without even trying, he had you back in his grasp. Acting like prince charming to come to your aid as if he didn’t try to give you hypothermia just a few painful moments ago. You couldn’t even look up, staring at the white floor and his black boots.

It was infuriating. You wanted to fight, but you body was weak. Tears and blood continued to pour. 

“H-help me.” Pride shattered, you gave in.

“What was that, I couldn’t hear you?” He sarcastically responded. 

“Help me, please Erik.”

“So you do need me, hm?”

Your head fell even lower, chest aching as he continued to stomp on your ego. The same beige towel was wrapped around your shivering form. He scooped you up as if you weighed the same amount as a small child and carried you over to the sink, seating you on it.    

The tears blurred your vision, but you could see that he was getting first-aid supplies from underneath the vanity.

You supported the towel with one hand, wiping away the tears with the other. Silently, you watched him tend to your leg as if he was an expert. Certainly he’s had many encounters with injuries, you knew that all too well. 

In the earlier days when he’d decide to hit you a little harder than usual, your skin would break and bleed. Bruises however, he left up to you. 

“You know what to do.” He’d warn, and you would be in the mirror, blending your concealer and foundation to mask the discolouration.

“Imma get you something to eat.” You hadn’t noticed when he’d finished, but your leg was wrapped up nicely. 

He lifted you again, pushing through the door and making his way back to the room. The hall was darker this time so you didn’t get the chance to observe the layout. You knew there wasn’t much to see, but before entering the bathroom you noticed another corridor and at the end was a door, appearing as if it lead to the outside world. It was quite far and other doors lined the walls. A potential escape, but a risky one for sure. You didn’t know how many others were in this building or if those doors led to rooms like Erik’s. 

Your body fell gently onto the double-sized mattress. It was soft and smelled just like him. A scent that you started to forget.

Without another word, he left you alone in the room. It certainly wasn’t the Ritz Carlton, but you were grateful Erik did care about luxury. The desk to the left of the bed had a bottle of cocoa butter lotion, a jar of Vaseline and some other hair and beard products that you weren’t too familiar with. 

As much as you wanted to go on a hunger and hygiene strike, you knew Erik and Erik knew you. Though this situation was complete shit, you still appreciated finding the good in the bad.

The good, you didn’t have to be dirty or starving.

The bad, well… Erik of course.

Sighing, you limped over to the desk and grabbed the lotion to start moisturizing your body. Closing your eyes, you tried to drown out the reality of your situation. The smell of the cocoa butter danced through your nostrils taking you back to more simpler times when you first met Erik. 

“You gotta moisturize, silly.” You squeezed the brown bottle into your palm, taking Erik’s elbow with the other. 

He looked at you with a raised eyebrow, “I ain’t even ashy.” The nineteen-year-old argued.

You narrowed your eyes at him, taking both elbows and pushing them beside each other. “Look!” You pointed into the mirror to show the stark contrast between his skin.

“Well my damn bad, (Y/N).” He huffed, watching you crack up. “Not like my daddy taught me anyway…”

You closed the cap of Vaseline, setting it back into its spot. You rummaged through the desk in search for something to put on, only to notice that a few familiar garments rested in the drawers. But not just his.

You felt sick, grabbing the oversized grey Aaliyah shirt you bought not even a year ago. There were times you felt as if you were going crazy, assuming that your roommate was the one stealing your clothes. In fact you had to confront her, but then she would question you back as to why the windows would be left ajar if neither of you were home.

Your skin crawled realizing that he was closer than you’d even been able to imagine. 

The door shut, causing you to jump. He stood there with two steaming bowls on a tray.

“Ramen noodles, chicken flavoured.” He said with indifference, noticing the horrified look on your face.

“What the fuck is this?!” 

He set the tray down on the edge of the bed and glared. “Excuse me?”

“Erik, do not do that right now. What is this!?” You held the shirt up so he could see better.

“You going crazy already? I ain’t even did nothing.”

“Do not gaslight me— I been looking for this shirt for months and its magically here? You were breaking into my apartment weren’t you?”

Amusement was evident on his face, “Surprise.”

“You’re fucking sick.” 

“Nah, you’ll be the sick one if you don’t stop all that bitching. Put the shirt on and come eat. I ain’t got time for this right now.”

“You don’t have time for this?! You made the choice to come back into my life, I was doing fine without y-“

An overwhelming amount of fear stopped you from completing your sentence once you noticed how dark his eyes appeared, that same look he gave before your skin bruised purple. Your head fell and you slipped the shirt over your head without another word.

His sharp eyes continued to watch, as if he was daring you to speak out of line again.

Your feet padded against the concrete, towards the end of the bed where the white bowl steamed. You picked it up and sat quietly. He did the same, only sitting opposite of you in a chair that felt so out of place in the room.

The broth burned as it hit your tongue, but it was better tolerated compared to the frigid temperatures you experienced mere moments ago. The two of you continued to eat in surprising silence. He always had something to say, but you assumed he was just as fatigued from the trip as you were. A lot happened in the span of… Well you didn’t exactly know how much time had passed but it had to be a little over a day or so.

You finished the noodles, leaving some of the broth behind. He took both bowls away and went out of the room. The itis and physical exhaustion all settled in, you collapsed onto the bed, pulling the blankets up to your nose. Stubbornness be dammed, the least the world owed you was a nice meal and a comfy bed. Perhaps playing the good girl role would be better in your favour. Erik was intelligent, and he knew all about gaslighting and manipulation. For now, you would take in the comfort because it will not stay this way, you are certain. 

The bed dipped and a heavy arm is slung over your waist. He didn't say anything and you don’t either. 

You really hoped that your family missing you at your grandma’s birthday would be the glimmer of hope to really save you from this nightmare. Or maybe you would just wake up and it would all be a dream.

Start/End: November 27 2023 - May 30, 2025

You didn't imagine that this job would be so demanding, but still so rewarding at the same time. Hours on your feet in heels, holding grossly expensive bottles of alcohol in a skimpy outfit was quite the experience. It gave you opportunities to meet all kinds of celebrities, from rappers to actors or just the crowd who could afford two yachts and a private jet. Either way, those were your best tippers. Your favourite ones, in fact.

The crowd that hassled you the most were drunk men just looking to have a good time. They were extremely shameless and highly insensitive. Those were the ones that couldn't hold their liquor and became very aggressive and touchy…

Being a student in the day, you had to find a way to pay for your loans. Your long-time friend, Anthony, was the one who recommended it. He was always into the nightlife and deemed you a perfect fit. Stripping was also on the table, but you wouldn’t be able to face your parents if you did. Also, you knew some of your male family members were too familiar with the clubs around town.  

"If I were to ever see my brother, uncles or cousins while I'm dancing on stage, I think I would die." You told Anthony, and that's when he suggested bottle service. 

Tonight, your boss told you and the other ladies that there was a big crowd coming tonight. Around fifty guests who rented out one section with very popular names and titles. 

You were parked in one of the employee spaces, which was at the side of the building, so you could still see anyone who was pulling into the lot. As you applied your brown lip liner and glossy nude lip combo, around twelve fancy cars rolled into the parking lot. They all were brightly coloured, had tinted windows and loud music blasting through upgraded speakers. 

Who would be showing up today? You wondered as the boss didn't tell you anything. 

You were used to seeing fancy cars due to this club being one of the more popular and upscale ones in the city, but never an entourage like that. 

People stood outside staring as the vehicles all chose a spot to park, waiting for the guests to exit.

You found youself caught in the same gaze until three taps on your window caused you to turn around and roll down the glass. It was your favourite coworker, Nicole. She sort of reminded you of Ari, in fact they could pass for sisters. She typically had her frontal wigs done in a half-up-half-down style, but today it was long, bone-straight and burgundy with a deep side part. 

You could tell she was cold based on the goosebumps peppering her skin. The uniform, tank top with the club logo decalled in rhinestones with short shorts and fishnet stockings did absolutely nothing for warmth. The evening brought in a cold chill despite it being the middle of summer. 

She leaned over, pushing some strands behind her ear, “Hey, sis. Frédo is looking for you. He got you, Willow and me on for that big group.”

"Just three of us?” You raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah the club is supposed to be packed tonight and you already know we're his best girls.”

"You right." You put your makeup into your purse and removed the keys from the ignition. "I'll meet you inside."

It wasn't even past midnight and the club was already so lively. Still, you had no idea who these guests were, but it seemed damn near half the city knew. The line outside to get in wrapped around the entire building.

"There's my girl!" Frédo, your boss, came into the back room to greet you. "Alright so you know the drill, I trust you not to mess up.”

"I never mess up." You slightly sassed. 

"Ma'am, you broke a whole bottle of Don Julio." Willow added, as she always did with her smart ass mouth. 

Sometimes you wished that you could stick a push pin in her bloated lips. You remember when she came to work bragging about getting her lips done by some celebrity doctor downtown LA, but something told you she got them done from an unlicensed friend-of-a-friend.  

"First of all, you bumped into me." You retorted with a glare.

"Ladies, ladies, now is not the time." Frédo diffused the situation before you two could get into it as usual. "I need you to go out there and do your absolute best. And please, be extremely- and I mean extremely careful with these bottles. You do not want to know how much one costs.”

"How much?" Willow challenged. 

Even though Willow was annoying and always liked to test people, you were actually quite curious to know as well.

"Enough to pay for your house, now go!" 

It made you gag sometimes, thinking about how much people would spend on a bottle of alcohol. Sure they can afford it, but a nice $15 wine at the local liquor store would not only give them the same buzz, but also save a whole lot of cash in the long run.

Whatever though.

Nicole met you both at the bar, collecting the bottles that your fancy guests would be drinking tonight. 

"You letting ‘em do body shots on you tonight?" Nicole cheekily asked you. 

"I know I am. You see this bottle of Brandy?!" Willow butted in, holding up the grey bottle. "This shit could really buy me a whole new house." 

You both rolled your eyes at her.

"Hell nah, ion know where they mouths or hands have been. And honestly, I would rather not be thrown up on too, cuz it seems like these folks came to get super lit.”

"Yo' boring ass." 

"Shut the hell up, Willow.”

"Aight y'all, what we need is to make money, not fight. So get your bottles and let's fuckin' go!" 

The both of you grabbed your bottles and headed towards the main area. The music was booming, it was some trap song playing in the background. Bodies crowded the entire room, it was dim, but bright stage lights guided a path to your section. The other girls had already been working on serving other customers, secretly side eyeing you, Nicole and Willow because of the money they could've made tonight.

Initially you were looking down slightly, avoiding the extremely bright lights and the chance of tripping over your own or someone else's feet. But as soon as you looked up, the shininess from the diamonds and gold jewelry resting on the special guests almost blinded you. The men were covered in thick chains, rings, watches, and grills. The women had on diamond earrings, bracelets, chains, necklaces, anklets, and body chains. The whole sha-bang really. 

It might as well have been a jewelry store. On a normal day, you wouldn't even see a quarter of the real gems these people had on. 

They were dripped out from head to toe in designer clothes too. This entire section could probably build a city with the prices of everything they had on their bodies from head to toe. One lady had on a platinum blonde straight wig, and you knew she didn't pay any less than $1000 for it. It was almost intimidating, all this money in one place.

 As you got closer to your section, the esteemed guests started to cheer. There were tons of male voices with a few females here and there.  

Taking a closer look you could start to make out some of the faces of each individual. Some were rappers, models, social media influencers, actors, and singers. The crowd was full of the different shades of melanin, and for that you were very happy to see it.

Black excellence was truly great. 

Willow and Nicole made sure to entertain their guests with their colourful personalities and willingness to do almost anything that would have their bills paid for a couple months. Hell, you couldn’t blame them. College wasn’t cheap and you had one more year to go. 

While serving the expensive bottles and carrying on as if you cared for the holler and excitement this crowd provided, you could just feel those eyes on you. Despite recognizing a few current and up-and-coming celebrities, male and females alike, he stood out the most. 

No, he wasn’t a rapper nor any celebrity for that matter (…well maybe a little infamous but average nonetheless), only a man who was adored and just so happened to have royal blood flowing through his veins. 

Erik Stevens.

He sat so comfortably in the centre of the VIP section, looking deliberately casual but, so stylish all at the same time. That smug smirk of his appearing once your eyes locked.

It took the strongest urge in you to not roll your eyes as you had the upstanding duty to serve him as he beckoned you over with two fingers. You maintained your professional composure as you guided yourself closer to his table.

“Wassup? Long time no see.” He greets you smoothly, voice cutting through the music. Suddenly, more eyes are turned to you and Erik, particularly the women who sat within an earshot and had their knees turned towards him.

Anyone who was paying attention noticed how he was looking at you - a mix of hunger, possession and unfinished business. 

You take a deep breath before placing his bottle down. Hennessey of course, what else would you expect from him? It was always stored away in his cabinet.  

Honestly, you should’ve taken Willow’s offer earlier and told her to handle Erik instead. You could just feel the tension growing in the air. The judgement was palpable from the other curious guests. However, you had to remain professional. Frédo ingrained those words into your head from the very moment you were hired. No wonder…

“Nice to see you again, Erik.” You replied cooly, disregarding the glares that were shot your way. 

“Is it?” He began, and already you knew it was going to go downhill just from those two words alone. “Seems like you ain’t wanna come over here for real.” He challenged, leaning back and crosing his arms with a grin. You could tell that he knew you were lying, and even more so that you had to keep a poised demeanour. After all, he was one of the highest paying customers. 

You force a smile, “Well, I’m just making sure that everyone is happy and getting all the bottles they ordered.”

“Oh, aight.” He unconvincingly responded. 

One of his drunken rich friends staggered over and plopped down next to him, but not without grazing your hip with a gentle hand to get by. Ugh. He threw an arm around the back of the sofa, oblivious to the current tension. “Bruh, I just invited two baaaad bitches to the section, when I say bad I mean bad.”

Erik was half paying attention to his friend, but his dark eyes were still trained on you.

You stifled a laughter, how many more women could they need? There was more than a handful over here and as far as you were concerned, these were the “bad bitches”!

The friend finally glanced at you, “Bring back two bottles of Patron.” He demanded. 

Your eyes narrowed just for a moment, expressing irritation, but everyone missed it except for Erik. You knew how to smile while conveying a totally different message with your eyes. It was something he picked up on after he would frustrate you and ask what was wrong, in which you always replied, “Nothing, I’m fine.”

“You heard me?” The drunk asked after you were standing there too long for his liking, apparently… Erik’s grin deepened almost as if he found amusement in your discomfort. 

You averted your attention to the pest, “They’re on the way sir. Just making sure I get everyone elses’ orders before I head back.” 

“Aight then, Miss uhh…” he peered at your bedazzled name tag before saying your name, sarcasm lacing his tone. The others in the section started to chuckle and that was your cue to hurry back to the bar, take a quick three second breather and then head back into the boistrous section. 

You had no issue calling security to kick customers out, hell you’d even do it yourself if you were paid to, but you recognized that bastard. He was a producer, songwriter and had an upcoming line of sneakers that everyone was anticipating. You knew Frédo would’ve been pissed if you got rid of a high profile guest. In fact, he was probably the one who booked out the section.

Typically interacting with the customers was fun and lighthearted, but sometimes you got assholes like that one. Some nights you could get away with retaliating, but this definitely wasn’t one of those.

“I’ll make sure you’re taken care of, be right back.” You quickly walked away, pinching Willow to get her to follow you back to the bar. Nicole was busy entertaining the other table otherwise you would’ve called her. “Come on girl, we’re refilling the hors d’ouevers and we got two more bottles.”

She was shoving a couple bills into her bra as she stalked behind you, “Bitch, I know you ain’t just take me away to help you get two bottles.”

“And food, you goof.”

“Where the fuck is Nicole? Ginny Vincent was about to take shots from my tits!” She complained. Ginny Vincent was a lesbian rapper, fem presenting but sometimes masculine, especially in her music videos.  

Ignoring her question you got the bottles from the back and shoved them in her hands, “Do me a favour, give these to the table with Killmonger and that ugly bald headed ass producer nigga sitting next to him. Lemme get your tables instead, please.”

She narrowed her eyes at you, “You are not about to take my fun-“

“Girl, I do not want Ginny!” Willow was so incredibly narrow sighted it killed you every time she opened her mouth. “I just don’t want to deal with them right now.”

“Oh you got choices? The amount of girls that would die to be in this section right now and you’re being picky? Crazy.” 

“Willow. For the love of everything good, please shut the fuck up for once. I am literally giving you the table with the most money and the biggest tippers and you’re complaining, for what?” You reach forward to take the bottles back from her, “Actually, you’re right. Lemme just have my bills paid for, for the next year. Since you wanna be grateful and shit, fuck it.” 

You could see the gears finally turning in her head, “Uh, you know what, bitch, my bad. You are absolutely right. I got it, I got it.” She took the bottles back, and cheerfully walked over to the section again, hollering as if her life depended on it.

You took a deep breath again as your eyes rolled drammatically. In the mean time, you got some water and freshened up in the bathroom. With the bright lights and the endless sea of people, you were hot. Unfortunately you forgot your portable fan at home. Not even ten seconds after stepping out of the bathroom you were summoned again. 

“Ah, there you are!” Frédo came from the kitchen, he was definitely yelling at the cooks to hurry up. “Okay, they want one more of those mortgage costing bottles. I only trust you with it, so take it out to that section for me.”

“I was getting them more refills on the hors d’ouevers. Willow and Nicole are-” You tried to stall.

“Not important, now hurry.” He interrupts, shoving the theatric cart towards you. The bottle was in a decorated ice bucket, sparklers coming out from all sides and really, as fun as it was, it was so ridiculous. This one bottle got more attention than some people ever did on their birthday. 

Either way, you put on your game face and hyped up the crowd as you made your way back into that jewelry store of a section. This in turn got everyone else excited too, so many phone cameras were flashing, drunk people cheering on top of their lungs, and onlookers desperately wanting a sliver of the action. 

But as you engaged with the customers and filled new orders, you could feel Erik’s gaze lingering on you like a hawk. You just knew how badly he wanted your attention, even with the other women chatting his ears off, or at least attempting to. They weren’t there before, maybe these were the two bad bitches his friend was talking about.

“Aye!” He called out, voice travelling over the music. Of course he was talking to you, “C’mere.” He beckoned you over. The two women huffed, realizing that they were not priority and decided to walk away. He didn’t even spare them a glance as he trained his eyes onto you.  

You treaded over, this time your face lacked the false pleasantires. “What, Erik?”

“I’m just tryna talk to you.”

“Look, I’m here to do my job. I’m not tryna get into anything with you right now. So just tell me if you need more drinks or-“ 

“More drinks?” He chuckled slightly and scratched his beard, “Nah, I need more company. Ain’t it your job to entertain me?”

You scoffed, “Well we both know what happened the last time we were entertaining each other so pardon me if I have no interest in opening that door again. I got about fifty people to look after.” Your tone was losing its calm. 

He evidently enjoyed this, his smirk grew. “Is that so? I mean, I thought you’d enjoy catching up since you been ghosting me and all.”

“Me!?” Your surprised outburst caught the attention of more partygoers than you wanted. However, what the fuck was he thinking? “You expect me to want to catch up with the man who decided to cheat on me?!”

The music felt quieter now, and the excitement seemed to die down, but maybe it’s because anyone in an earshot was focused on what Erik had to say to you.

“Who else, Miss Bottle Girl?”

“Look, I’m not about to do this with you right now. Are you placing an order or what?”

This had his possy laughing, his friends jabbing at him with remarks suggesting that you have been the topic of conversation at least one time since leaving him.

“So this is the shorty you been telling us about bruh, damnnnn. She ain’t playing witch’yo ass.” One of them chortled.

“Shut up, bruh.” He shot back with a laugh, but the seriousness in his eyes remained as he looked back at you. “You can’t pretend it was all bad.”

“Pretend? Trust me, I’m not pretending. This isn’t a game.” 

“Then what is it, hm?” He leaned forward, challenging you. “Just think about it, if you were so pressed, you wouldn’t be standing here now would you?”

The audacity of this man to try and gaslight you in front of all these people, “I’m just doing my job.”  You retaliated. “It really has nothing to do with you, and I can’t believe you think I’m working this section for you. Had I known you were here I would’ve swapped out.” 

His eyes narrowed, “Stop pretending like you don’t miss me, (y/n).”

“And don’t. So if you don’t place an order in the next three seconds, I’m gonna go tend to my other customers.” You cross your arms, professionalism out the window as you glared at Erik. 

This time he stood up and entered your personal space, “Stop acting like that, (y/n). You know how much you want me. C’mon.” He leans in closer to whisper, the smell of henessey and cologne danced around your nose. “None of this shit matters, I want you back.”

“We’re done, Erik. Get that through that thick skull of yours. Trying to gaslight me in front of a bunch of folks is not playing out as well as you think it is. You just look like a complete jackass.”

“I ain’t worried about them, princess. I know you miss what we had.” 

Anger rushed through you, pushing you closer to the edge. “Miss what exactly? The back-and-forth? The lying? Me catching you with multiple bitches? Please.”

The laughter from the section was fuelling your irritation as well. This wasn’t a fucking reality TV show for his crowd to find amusement in. You decided to drag him out of the section because having people in your business was not ideal, and you were certain some people were recording everything too. 

Your red nail jabbed him in the chest. “You thinking that I miss you is actually insane. What I do miss is what we first had, before I really knew the truth.”

“What truth? That you’re jealous?” His condescending tone triggered a shockwave of fury to flow through your veins.

“Jealous of what?! Seeing my supposed to be man entertain other women while he’s with me. It’s fucking insane that you are still trying to convince yourself that you weren’t the one wo fucked up. Now your ass can’t secure a good woman to save your life and its exactly what you deserve. So when I say this, I mean it in the most disrespectful way. Fuck. You. Erik. Stevens. Fuck! You!” 

“Already did.” He smriks smugly.

Sick of his provocation, arrogance and narrative twisting to make you feel like you were the problem, you grabbed a fruity red cocktail out of a passerbyers hand to which she complained, splashing the drink all over his crisp white t-shirt. 

His face went from shock to anger quickly. There were so many ‘ooos’ and people making noise after witnessing what just went down. 

“What the fuck!?” He pulled his shirt away from his torso. 

“Maybe you will finally get the message now. We are done! Fucking asshole!” You stormed off as he shouted at you come back. Erik was left there, stunned. He underestimated you one too many times. 

This wasn’t nearly as bad as what he did to you, but you felt a sense of victory. It was exhilirating almost. Surely someone recorded it and you were sure that it was going to be all over social media the next morning.

Karma is a bitch, Erik Stevens. You thought to yourself as you made your way to your car. 

Frédo would definitely be infuriated with you, in fact you weren’t even sure if you would still have a job the next day. You wouldn’t even be surprised if you got a million phone calls and long text messages from your boss, coworkers and “unknown numbers”. Either way, you were fed up, done with Erik and ready to take off your damn heels.  

(Start/Finish October 23 2020 - Dec 5, 2024)

It’s funny that I finally found inspiration after getting over whatever I was going through back in 2020. Because I wanted this story to be more lighthearted and typical, but then it took on a new tragectory. Fours years to complete because writers block is a bitch!

This was sitting in my drafts for about 2 months, but I randomly decided to read it and actually really enjoyed how it came out. So, I edited it and boom here it is! (February 24, 2025)

Erik always loved when his daughter came to visit on the weekends. Despite having to deal with her irritating mother whom he should've left years ago, Aaliyah always brought joy to his usually busy and hectic life.

He was quite surprised when his arrogant, loud-mouthed baby mother was knocking on his door at seven in the morning, calling his name like Sabrina from Madea's Big Happy Family 2. 

It didn't irritate him that she was at his door so early, seeing as he was already up since five, working out. But it was Mother's Day today and there was no reason for her to be disrupting his peace.

As soon as the door creaked open, the eight-year-old was already in his arms. 

"Hi, daddy!" She gave him a tight hug, the patterned beads on the ends of her hair bounced off his cheek as they made contact.

"Hey, princess." He lifted Aaliyah and gave her a kiss on her cheek above the dimple that matched his. "Go on inside, I'll be there in a second." He said after setting her down.

When Aaliyah was inside, he stepped out and closed the door leaving a small crack. 

"Brianna." He simply said with a distasteful look on his face.

"What? You looking like it ain't your turn to spend time with her."

His eyes narrowed, "It's Mother's Day though." 

"And?" She shrugged her shoulders and copied his stare, "It's your weekend with her. I got shit to do." 

Erik almost laughed, not at her but at himself. This is the bitch that I got pregnant? 

"What's so funny?" She asked, resting her hand on her hip. Her nails caught his attention, ridiculously long, pointy and bright. Now that he took a better look at her, he could see and assume the exact reason why she had the nerve to pull something like this. 

"Nothing, except you tryna go out and be the thot that you is instead of spending time with your daughter. You ain't send her to one of ya little family members cuz they would've clocked your ass for pulling this stunt." Erik ridiculed her, and every factual statement he said had her eyebrows furrowing and fists clenching harder. 

"Fuck you, Erik!" She yelled, pointing her index finger to his face. "You the last person to be judging me."

"Nah, fuck you for being an ain't shit ass mother." With that, he went back inside and locked the door in her face. There was a thump against the door, followed by the sound of her flip flops going down the porch. He sighed and went to go look for Aaliyah. 

Erik tried to keep arguing and fights to a minimal whenever Aaliyah was around. It was quite difficult considering her mother was an obnoxious loud mouth who had no class or shame. 

Aaliyah knew they didn't get along, in fact even she didn't get along with her mom that well. Brianna was one of those people who shouldn't have kids, but still has them anyway. They didn't really share a mother-daughter bond at all, Aaliyah would get that from other women in her life. Brianna would rather spend time partying, drinking, hooking up, and other stuff that she should've put to rest after she became a mother.

The only reason he wasn't able to take full custody over his daughter was because the judge was quite biased against the infamous ex-Killmonger and there was no way a man like that could raise a child in love. Of course it did take a while for him to recover, thanks to his family in Wakanda, but he was one hundred percent a stable man. Also, he was way more capable to care for his daughter than Brianna ever could. 

For one, Erik lived in luxury. He lived in a better house, drove a nicer car, ate tastier foods, and resided in a safer neighbourhood. In fact, he paid for all of Aaliyah's necessities even at Brianna's request. Her clothes, shoes, school supplies and extra curricular activities like dance and swimming. 

Brianna on the other hand moved around a lot, couch-surfing, she didn't drive, McDonald's was often her first choice of meal, and she spent a lot more money on her appearance and other things that should come last versus taking care of her basic needs. 

But in the court house, she used her mother's living as a cover up for her own. Decent house, fair neighbourhood, working, stable. 

He recalls how furious he was when the judge denied him the rights to his child. He knew that Brianna only did this to spite him and also for her own personal financial benefit. Child support was expensive. 

"Aaliy-" He walked into the living room to find her curled up in a throw blanket on the sectional sofa, fast asleep. Her overnight bag was resting on the floor. He let her sleep, seeing as it was still very early. 

Usually, she would be dropped off on a Friday night and they would wake up around ten or eleven the following day. On Sundays, they would wake up even later around twelve.

Erik spent the rest of the morning in his gym, finishing off his workout that was interrupted. He liked to play music that was loud enough to vibrate the walls, but his baby girl was asleep so he opted to keep it relatively low. 

An hour went by and Erik finished his workout. He took a hot steaming shower that fogged up the entire bathroom, then moisturized and got dressed into a white t-shirt, light grey Jordan sweater and black basketball shorts. It was a habit to wear his gold chain that was tucked behind the hoodie. 

More time had passed and breakfast was served, eggs and pancakes. Aaliyah was up and ready, climbing onto the bar stool. He slid her plate towards her, along with the maple syrup bottle. 

"That's that real maple syrup. Not the sugary shit ya mama feeds you." He watched as she examined the glass bottle. "But be careful not to drop it, aight?"

"Okay, daddy." She twisted the cap off and used her two small hands to drizzle the syrup onto her pancakes. She ended up drowning them and part of the scrambled eggs, but she liked it that way. 

Weird. Erik thought. He took a seat beside her and poured the syrup onto his pancakes. "So what we got planned for today?" 

Aaliyah's bright face toned down, and her chewing slowed. "Well..." He waited for her response as she swallowed. "Mama was supposed to come to ballet with me. My teacher said bring your mommies for the Mother's Day dance class!" Her fist rested under her chin, "But she isn't here."

He stared at his daughter, reminiscing on the feeling. Erik knew exactly what it was like to not have someone there with him. All the basketball tournaments, school events, and graduation ceremonies. It was no one except him and if he was lucky, maybe one of his foster parents would attend, but that was as rare as a blue moon.

"I uh... I'll take you." He hesitantly said.

"But you always take me, daddy." She didn't understand what he meant, seeing as her classes took place on the weekends so Erik always dropped her off anyway.

"Nah, Li. I mean I'll join the class with you. Only for today." He put his pride behind him today, only for his daughter though. As long as his friends and family didn't see this, everything would be alright. 

She started cracking up at Erik's offer, throwing her head back in amusement. "But you're a boy, not a girl!" 

"I'm a man, actually. And so what, you got the coolest dad. We gon' have more fun than the rest of 'em." He smiled at his daughter's enjoyment. The two finished their meals and got ready to head out.

On the ride there, Aaliyah couldn't stop sharing her excitement. She often spoke about her dance teacher and how much she loved her. 

"She's so pretty, and so nice! And she dances so good! I wanna be like her when I grow up!" 

Aaliyah would always talk about her teacher with Erik. The one time she tried to talk to Brianna about her, that resulted in Brianna cursing the teacher off and claiming that she was trying to steal her daughter away.

To say Brianna was an irrational, nonsensical, drama queen would be an understatement. 

Erik's nerves spiked as they entered the building. Of course he could dance, but not to the point where he could be a professional. He was more of a man who had rhythm and could do little bits and pieces of hip hop. Though he was graceful, quiet and fast on his feet, ballet was most definitely not one of his specialties. 

"This way, daddy!" Her pink tutu bounced as she pulled him towards a brown door, similar to a school classroom door. Outside, there were mothers and daughters all lined up. The little girls were all so giddy and excited, jumping up and down and yapping to their mothers.

He hadn't realized it, but Aaliyah was tugging very hard at his arm. Erik was forming a resistance as they got closer. 

"Ungh!" Her little grunts finally were audible in his ears, "Come! On!" Her ballet slippers slid on the tile floor as she tried to tug him.

"Oh damn, my bad." He eased up and allowed her to bring them closer to the door. The mothers immediately took notice of him, some eyeing him longer than they should've. Some looks of confusion, some of lust. They were already talking, but he could sense when the conversations switched to be about him.  

Aaliyah was already talking to a group of young girls, sharing their excitement about today. He could hear her boasting about him, even when they questioned where her mother was.

There was classical music playing on the inside for a while, and Erik was praying that it would continue non-stop. He checked his watch; 1:59.

And as soon as the clock struck 2:00, the music stopped. 

Another minute passed and the door finally opened, a set of older girls about twelve to fifteen exited. The younger girls squealed in excitement, lining up beside their mothers and Aaliyah to her father. She squeezed his hand and bounced up and down.

"Aye, you bout to pull my shoulder out." He complained. 

"Oops, sorry daddy!" Aaliyah apologized and relaxed a bit. Instead, she swayed their arms back and forth. 

The line started to move into the room and he assumed that he missed when they were called in. Admitted, Erik was quite interested to see who his daughter bragged about all the time. Being the last to step in, he closed the door and finally turned around. 

Erik was beyond surprised to see a young black woman teaching the class. Not that he was underestimating her abilities, but when he thought of a ballet teacher, he pictured an old, white, grumpy-looking lady. Also, black ballerinas were not represented as much, so this was quite the surprise. He assumed that the teacher loved Aaliyah so much because she was a grandmother, and grandparents love children, but he got the exact opposite instead. He was thrilled in fact, and Aaliyah was correct, she was beautiful. You were beautiful. 

"Good afternoon everyone, my name is Miss (Y/n) and I'm happy that you're all here for this Mother's Day class." Your smile was so vibrant and bold, lighting up the entire room. Your eyes made contact with Erik's, a chill raced through your body. He was very handsome. 

He was broad and had a lot of mass, which easily showed through his clothes. You were digging the dreads that laid to the left of his head.

However, you were not surprised at all that her mother wasn't here, but you were shocked when he showed up instead. You were expecting not to see Aaliyah at all, but nonetheless you didn't question it. It warmed your heart to see how much he cared because the lack on her maternal side was very apparent. Aaliyah viewed you as a motherly figure, you knew that. And it didn't bother you at all, she was a sweetheart.  

"Alright, so we'll start off with warming up the muscles then we can start with pliés."

You did simple stretches and warming up with the class so no one would get injured. Jogging on the spot, high knees, jumping jacks, lunges, toe touches, the basics. You did take notice of how fit Erik was, and he was quite flexible too. Though he was wearing a sweater, you could clearly see how muscular his arms were. You couldn't help but stare. Only to be stopped as he caught you. 

You looked away, and stood up from your lunge, "Alright, moms and dad, can we get you on this side of the room." You pointed to the left where the taller bar was, and the girls used the shorter one.

The barre routines you pulled together were relatively simple. Though this was a third-level RAD (Royal Academy of Dance) ballet class, you had to alter it so the inexperienced parents could have their fun too, without stumbling or getting frustrated because ballet can be irritating. 

"So we're gonna start with our feet in first position and hold for two counts, one... two... Arms through port de bras to second position, three, four." You demonstrated as the participants followed. "Demi-plié and stretch, demi-plié and stretch, rise up, hold, hold and lower. Grand plié, bringing your arm through port de bras and stretch, turn to the other side." The kids were happy at the simplicity, but half of the parents already looked winded. You smiled, "Easy enough?"

There were some sarcastic agrees, which was understandable. 

"Don't worry, I'll walk you through it." You smiled at the parents, hitting play on the stereo. You physically demonstrated the steps on the first side, but on the second side, you walked around the room correcting technique. 

Erik felt stupid, but no one was judging him as far as he could tell.

You lifted Aaliyah's chin gently as she had a habit of staring down at her feet. "Eyes up. Turn out your feet, and make sure you're resting on all ten toes." You fixed the rest of the girls' arms, posture, and feet positions then switched to the adult bar. 

Big yikes, was all you could think of as you watched half of the mothers attempt ballet. The other half were ex-dancers so they were able to do the exercise properly and Erik wasn't bad at all. No, he wasn't perfect, and you betted that if he trained when he was younger, there was no doubt he would be the next Mikhail Baryshnikov. You could tell that he has trained in some areas that required him to be agile and flexible. 

"Very good, Mr. Stevens." You praised him. He felt himself smirk. It was nice to receive approval outside of the bedroom or work.

The only thing you fixed on him was his elbow because it was drooping, and also because why not get a close-up of his massive arms. You adjusted posture and arms on the rest of the ladies.

"Nice finish." You applauded as the song came to an end. "I see we have some natural talent in the room, how many parents are or were dancers?" About five raised their hand. You asked them what discipline did they study and when, if they performed and other dance-related things. 

Just like the ballet language itself, it was all so foreign to him. He didn't even try to comprehend what you were discussing. The most he knew were pliés, so when you got to saying the other barre exercises, he was at a loss.

Battement tendus, battement glissés, rond de jambe, and that wasn't even a quarter of the ballet glossary.

Finally finished with barre work, the class was in the centre facing the mirror. 

"Hold up, it's more?" Erik asked, with a heavy breath. All that leg kicking and pliéing had him tired. He grew a newfound respect for ballerinas and all dancers for that matter. 

Everyone giggled.

"Of course, Mr. Stevens. I only did a third of the barre exercises though. We still have centre, corner and character to do." You smiled at him. You lied though, there was no way you'd have enough time to do the whole syllabus, and also it was a Mother's Day class, not a regular one. 

The look on his face was hilarious, everyone's giggles escalated into laughter. 

"You're already tired, daddy?!" Aaliyah asked in shock as if she didn't have sweat beads on her forehead. 

"Hell y- I mean, yeah I'm tired." A while ago he was doing just fine, it only goes to show that he was actually putting in effort. His hard work opened you back up to the idea of hosting a Father's Day dance class. 

The first two years you hosted the Father's Day dance, only three or four would show up. It was a shame considering how cute of a bonding experience it would've been for both parties. Erik was your solid proof. Only if they could put their pride down for just an hour.

"So for this next exercise, we're gonna be doing turns!"

"Yaaayy!" The girls all cheered, as turning was their favourite. It was nice to see because when you started out dancing, turning was not your specialty. You were better at jumps.

"Can I get a partner to demonstrate this exercise?" 

To your surprise Erik's hand raised.

"Oh, Mr. Stevens? Looks like I'm taking your partner, Aaliyah." You joked.

"That's okay! He said he wanted to!" She had a mischievous smile on her face. 

Erik's face heated up as the others made noises, he felt so childish. It reminded him of the time the class found out about his first crush back in middle school.

Either way, demonstrating with two adults worked better than with a small child. 

"So, what you're going to do is place your hands on my hips." He did just that, his cologne was faint but smelled very fresh and masculine. "And just rotate me as I keep my feet in first and imitate walks like a penguin." You demonstrated as you spoke. "Can anyone tell me what these are?"

They all raised their hands excitedly, ready to share their knowledge. 

"Ellie?"

"Chaine turns!" The little blonde exclaimed. 

"Perfect! Now make sure you keep your arms tight so you don't hit your partner."

The grip he had on your hips was surprisingly a lot more gentle than you expected from such a large man. For someone with no experience, he was a great partner. The audience applauded and you gave them a quick curtsey. 

"Now you can have your partner back, Aaliyah." You smiled at the girl who was staring in awe at her father and a woman she wished to be one day. "After the partners in front have turned four times, you may start, okay?" You hit play and a more upbeat song played through the speakers, catching the ballet uneducated off guard. "Alright, so we're gonna start in three, two, one."

You watched as they taped their feet, shimmying their shoulders a bit as they waited for their turns. Not many people knew, but ballet wasn't strict to only classical piano music, it came in all forms.

You singled for each group to start, "Eyes up! Keep spotting! Keep your heels together, ladies! Turnout!"

Though you did have to remind her to spot the wall and not her feet, Aaliyah was the most consistent out of the rest of her class. She had so much potential and you hoped that she would continue dancing in the future. 

"Very good, everyone! Take a little water break and we'll get started on our second last routine of the day." 

The class awed in disappointment that it was already over. This was actually a first, usually, they were excited to leave. But syllabus work was never as fun as leisure classes like these. You were slightly more strict when it came to teaching syllabus. 

"Can you open this for me, daddy?" Aaliyah handed her white and pink water bottle over to her dad. 

He twisted it enough to remove the pressure, "Ah, it's too hard. Here, you try again." 

"But if you can't open it, then how will I?" She pouted. 

"Show me your muscles."

She lifted her small arms and flexed.

"Ahh, there they are. Now put 'em to use, girl." He placed the bottle back into her hands. With her might, she easily twisted the lid off.

"I did it!" She celebrated.

"Aye, there you go princess." Erik smiled, pulling his daughter into a hug and planting kisses on her cheek.

The mothers watched in awe at the father and daughter. They would've loved for their husbands to be as affectionate and loving with their children, but they were either too busy or too "manly" to be like that. Erik however, did not care. He would love and be proud of his seed no matter what. 

You too gushed at the interaction. It made you become hopeful- about the possibility of having kids. 

"Alright everyone, time for some grand jetés!" 

The clanking of water bottles being put down, and ballet slippers padding across the floor filled the room.

"Can someone tell me what a grand jeté is?" The girls raised their hands in excitement just like that last time. "Amelia?"

"It's when you run and you jump and do a big split!" 

"Perfect answer!" You applauded the light skin girl with brown freckles. "Mr. Stevens, can I get you to help me demonstrate once again?"

"Yeah, of course." He stepped out of the line towards you. 

"So the goal of this one is to get really high but also to get a nice big split. Parents, you're going to assist in the height factor and girls, your goal is to get your legs as wide as possible, alright?" You stood in front of him and placed his large hands on your hips. "I'm going to chassé, then take two steps and brush my leg out to do the split."

The first run was slow, making sure that he could keep up. For someone with no experience in ballet, he really surprised you. His coordination was excellent. 

The second time around, you picked up the pace and on the jump, he got you very high off the ground, as if he's practiced this before. He gently set you down and  for a brief moment, his chocolate eyes met with yours. You smiled at each other and turned to face the class.

"Give Mr. Stevens a round of applause! That was amazing!" He bowed in acknowledgment.  After the claps became silent you said, "See how high we got? That's how high you want to get on your own one day." Obviously that was just encouragement, a person can only jump so high. 

You played the music and just like the last time you signalled for each partners to start. The mothers who were previous dancers got their daughters at very good heights, you could tell they were giving them pointers as well. 

"Eyes up! No développé, make sure you're brushing your leg! Turnout! Stretch that back leg! Point your toes!" 

It was funny to see the mothers who had no dance experience trying to keep up with their daughters. Some of the girls got jealous as they watched Erik lift Aaliyah over his head. They were in a world of their own, laughing joyously as they made it to the opposite corner of the room.

"I want to go that high, mommy!" 

"We're too low!"

"Higher!"

The mothers looked at their children with incredulous looks. That simply meant, no. 

One of the girls, Maya tapped Aaliyah's shoulder. "Can your daddy lift me?" She asked, there was no shyness in her voice. That girl was very bold.

Aaliyah looked up at Erik while pulling on his hoodie. "Daddy?" 

"Wassup, princess?" 

"Maya wants to know if you can lift her too." 

He was stunned at first, "I uh- Yeah, sure." He smiled at them both. "As long as Miss (Y/n) is okay with it."

"Miss (Y/n)! Miss (Y/n)!" The two girls called out. You were checking your notes for the next class routine.

"Yes, girls?" You asked, a little startled. 

"My daddy offered to help us jump higher if that's okay with you!" 

Quite the surprise, "Yeah, that's fine." 

After Maya was lifted, the other girls screamed "Me too!" 

He looked dumbfounded, it made you giggle. 

"How about this, one jump from Mr. Stevens and then you have to try and jump higher than that, but remembering all the corrections we've been working on throughout the year. Deal?"

"Deal!" They all cheered. The mothers looked very interested as well.

You started the music up and the girls lined up beside Erik. They each took their turns, and you could see some improvement already. They were jumping higher, which resulted in better splits. The mothers recorded, proud of their daughters and still in awe of Erik. 

If they saw him on the streets, they would've assumed that he was up to no good. This soft, child-loving and friendly side was shocking to not only them, but to himself as well. 

They all finished, and Erik was sweating. You wanted to ask him to take his sweater off, but that might be flirting a little too hard.

"Good job, ladies! And that was awesome Mr. Stevens!" You gave them a round of applause, the mothers joining in as well. "For our final lesson, we'll be doing révérence. You can choreograph this piece with your moms- and dad, but it's going to be really short. Two counts of eight, three max. I'll give you five minutes to come up with your routine." 

Each pair went off to their own section of the room to practice. 

Erik had no idea where to start, he was usually really good with formulating a plan, but ballet? Yeah, right. Good thing his little sidekick was the expert. She already had something in mind. 

"Okay so, first we're going to walk, one, two- Turnout your feet, daddy."

"I'm trying, Li." He grunted as he fixed his feet. This ballet shit was a lot harder than I imagined. 

"Then you bring your arms up to first and then to second, like this." She demonstrated for him and he followed suit. She looked at his arm position, droopy elbows, and corrected them. "Like that. Don't drop your arms, okay?" 

"Yes, princess." He complied. Already, he could tell she was going to be a great leader. 

"Then I'm gonna lift my arms up and you pick me up and we do a turn, then you put me down and we curtsy with our arms in demi-seconde." 

"Demi-what?" 

"Seconde, like this!" She showed him the arm position.

"Aight, lets run this again cuz I already forgot."

Aaliyah placed her hands on her hips, "Really, daddy?"

"Yeah, come on." 

The two practiced their routine as did the others until you finally called time.

"So, who wants to go first?" 

Of course Aaliyah's hand shot up, but you wanted to give someone else a go. Besides, you had to save the best for last.

The moms who weren't dancers went first, they were... Well, you've seen worse let's just say that. Then the ex-dancers went, very graceful and lovely routines. It made you wonder who was the choreographer because they were doing some things that you hadn't taught the class. Lastly, it was Erik and Aaliyah's turn.

The first part of their routine was very simple, but very cute. After he spun her and set her down to do their curtsy, he took her hand and placed  a small kiss on the back and she did the same. It was so adorable, the mothers awed along with you. 

"Excellent work, everyone!" Erik hadn't realized how much fun he was actually having until you announced that class was finally over. "I hope you all have an amazing rest of your Mother's Day and I'll see you next weekend."

Time does fly by when you're having fun. 

"Goodbye, Miss (Y/n)!" They all said and exited the room, all except Erik and Aaliyah. 

After class, Aaliyah would spend time talking with you about anything. She would tell you about her family life, school and anything that was holding her interest at the moment. It was habitual, and it made Erik more curious about you. 

Erik watched as the eight-year-old ran into your arms. 

"Hey Aaliyah, did you have fun today?" You asked holding onto her, similar to a mother.

"Yeah, so much fun! I told you my daddy was very strong!" 

You laughed, "I didn't doubt it for a second." You stood up and looked at him. 

"So y'all be talking about me while I'm not here?" He chuckled, arms folded over his chest. 

"Only good stuff." You assured him with a grin. "I wasn't expecting you to be so graceful though."

Erik shrugged, "I am a big nigga." 

You raised an eyebrow. 

"She's heard everything already, but she knows not to say it. Right, Li?"

"Yes, sir!" She gave him her biggest toothy grin.

"Aye." He pulled five dollars out of his pocket and handed it to her, "How about you go get something from the vending machine, princess."

"Okay!" She accepted the cash and skipped out of the room. 

Now all that remained was you and Erik. It wasn't necessarily tense in the atmosphere, but you felt shy for some odd reason. His stare was enough to make you want to hide your face and blush. Sure handsome men have been around you, but something about Erik was more intense. 

"So, you met her mom, right?" He suddenly asked.

"Yeah." You wanted to laugh thinking of that ridiculous woman, "She was ready to take me to court after caring about her daughter. She said I was trying to take her away or whatever, but I can't help it if Aaliyah likes me. Besides I love kids."

"Yeah, sorry about that. The girl is crazy." 

You nodded quickly, agreeing with him. 

"Do you got any kids? I mean you look pretty young, but..."

Your heart sunk, "Well... I haven't um... Been able to conceive so no. That's kind of why I spend a lot of time with kids, to make up for the loss."

"Shit, I'm sorry I didn't mean to-"

"No, no, no. It's fine, really. I've only tried it a few times with one person, and after the multiple failures I was too scared to try again so we gave up on each other." 

"Damn, I really didn't mean to bring that up."

"No, it's alright. Really." You sighed, "For now, I'm more focused on helping these kids get better and enjoy ballet cuz it can be a lot of fun." 

You could still see he was slightly upset by your news, so you decided to change the topic. 

"So Mr. Stevens-"

"Erik." 

"Yes, Erik." You smiled, "I'm curious to know about your natural talent. Did you dance when you were younger?"

"Nah. I always knew how to dance, but not this ballet shit. I was in the Navy and I did a bunch of training that made me work on stealth. I guess it counted for more than military stuff." 

"Ohhh, okay that makes sense."  

It was silent for a moment, until both of you tried to speak at the same time.

"You first." He insisted.

"Well I was hoping that I'll see you next month for the Father's Day dance class. I stopped doing them cuz the dads wouldn't show up, but I mean a big, strong guy like you decided to come to the Mother's Day class, so I thought, why not? I would love to have you again, it was really fun."

"I did this for Aaliyah, let's make that clear." He stated, attempting to come off as if he didn't enjoy the class.

"Yeah, yeah." You rolled your eyes, "Ballet isn't only for women. I'm sure you would've been the next Carlos Acosta if you started out when you were younger." 

"Who?" Erik raised his eyebrow. 

"He's a ballet dancer. But anyways, you should come. We can do more lifts and tricks, it'll be fun."

"We?" He gave you a suggestive look. That only made you blush and turn your head.

"Anyways! So will you be joining us again?" 

He scratched his beard, "On one condition."

"Which is?" 

He knew you were quite interested after he caught you staring more than once during the class. "Let me take you out on a date and we'll see what happens from there."

You were taken aback, "A d-date?"

"Yeah, I wanna get to know you more and see why my daughter likes you so much." 

Your heart was beating so loudly, you were convinced that Erik could hear it. "I uh- y-yeah, sure. Why not?"

"Great." He smiled, showing off his gold fangs that you just took notice of. 

Aaliyah came back with two packs of skittles, a pack of starbursts and Doritos. She watched you both exchange numbers. "I'm back!" 

"Ready to go, Li?" He turned to his daughter after you finished giving him your number.

"Yep! Bye Miss (Y/n)!"

"Goodbye, sweetheart. See you next weekend. Bye Erik, see you soon." 

He winked at you as he walked out, "Bye, Miss (Y/n)."  The door finally locked, and the butterflies that were flying rampant in your stomach had finally settled down.

"What was she writing in your phone?" Aaliyah asked Erik while eating a handful of Skittles.

"None of your business, girl." He replied, taking the bag of starbursts out of her hand.

"Aww, you never tell me anything!" She huffed.

"That ain't true." He disagreed, popping two pink starbursts into his mouth.

"Yeah!"

"No."

"Yeah, it is!"

"No, it ain't."

The two bickered back and forth until they were in his Range Rover. 

"You like her, don't you?" Aaliyah teased. 

"Uhhh." He wasn't sure if he could answer that truthfully or just start another debate with his daughter again.

"It's okay daddy, I like her too." She said, buckling up as he started the engine.

He grinned at her through his rearview mirror, "Yeah, she's cool."

"Can we get ice cream?" 

"You got ice cream money?"

"Daaadddy?!" She whined.

"I'm just playing, let's go." He laughed, pulling out of the parking lot and heading towards the ice cream parlour. 

Happy Mother's Day! - I know this wasn't that much about Mother's Day, but I didn't want to write your typical Mother's Day one-shot. I wanted to make it unique. 

I hope y'all enjoyed this chapter. If you haven't guessed it, I am in fact a dancer. 

I do ballet, acro and jazz (I've done other dances, but this is what I've been doing this year). I didn't want to get too technical with the ballet glossary terms because it would come off as gibberish, unless you are a ballet dancer as well.

If you dance, let me know. What style? If you do ballet, are you with RAD? I am. 

Thank you for reading!

(Start/Finish: May 10, 2019 - May 11, 2019)

As an eight year old, you had the joy of exploring the vast and spacious palace. There were so many places to go an explore every single day. Queen Ramonda would scold you for being too noisy, or not acting in a cordial manner, but you were just a child. 

She was not your biological mother, and in no way are you related to the royal family. They took you in three years ago, when your parents had been murdered by a man who went by the name, Klaue. Of course you were not present when it had happened, but you found their lifeless bodies on the floor once you got back inside from playing. T'Challa was on the scene immediately in his Black Panther form, comforting you as he was too late to capture Klaue. After taking you to the palace, T'Challa swore to protect you for the rest of your life.

You had plans to play with him as he had promised you yesterday.

~~~

"King T, where are you going?" You caught him just before he headed outside of the palace.

He knelt down to your level, "I have a challenge today." 

"Really? And you're gonna win it, right!?" You placed your small hands onto his shoulders.

"Of course." Hearing your voice always made him smile.

"Then we can play once you get back!"

"Yes we can."

"Promise?" You held a pinky to his face.

"Promise." He wrapped his larger pinky around yours with a gentle squeeze.

"Good luck!" You wrapped your arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. 

As you released, he patted your cornrowed braids. "See you soon." And with that, he took off, but you had noticed his usual stride was lacking some confidence. 

~~~

Today, the palace felt bitter and gloomy. But you being the innocent and naive eight year old that you were, it didn't phase you one bit. It was quiet, you had noticed, without Queen Ramonda calling you to eat breakfast or one of the royal siblings stealing something off of your plate. In fact, you hadn't eaten any breakfast at all and it was almost noon. 

Breakfast could wait, it was playtime. You ran all the way to the throne room calling T'Challa's name expecting him to be ready for you. The doors were quite heavy for you to open, but once you got them open you jumped up and down calling his name.

"King T'Challa, you promised that we would play! Come on!" You dashed through the oddly crowded room, pushing and weaving through the legs of various members. "King T'Ch-" 

All eyes were on you, including a set of very unfamiliar ones that occupied the throne with a smug look on his face. 

"Who are you?" You questioned at the stranger sitting in T'Challa's spot.

He let out a laugh before answering, "I'm ya king." His foreign accent throwing you off.

"No you're not, King T'Challa is." Your expression had changed to a frown. "And he promised that he would play with me today." 

He smiled at you, gold caps glistening off of his canines. "Is that right?"

"Yes, where is he?" 

Before the stranger could answer you were grabbed by the collar of your dress, "Apologies my king, she is just an orphan. Please excuse her behaviour." It was Okoye who had stepped in, carrying you out of the room. "What do you think you're doing?" She asked with a hiss.

"I'm looking for King T'Challa, have you seen him?" But she didn't answer your question, ushering you away and telling you to go play outside.

The rest of the day, your mood was sour. Instead of playing, you sat in the fields, plucking the grass which eventually caused a bald spot. Queen Ramonda would have scolded you for it, but she hadn't been around. Shuri had not surfaced either, you checked her laboratory multiples of times, but she wasn't there. 

How could T'Challa break a promise to you like that? When you found him, you were gonna beat him up for sure. 

The sun had finally set, but you remained outside waiting for the King to return. 

"Aye, Princess." That same man who was seated on the throne had noticed you sitting alone. 

"My name is not princess, it's (y/n)." You told him, with your head resting on your knees.

"Aight, (y/n). Watchu doing out here by yourself?" 

"I'm waiting on King T'Challa." 

He chuckled, "Why?"

"Because I can." 

"Oh, sassy I see." He said, smirking.

You looked at him briefly, then looked away. "He promised..."

The stranger sat beside you, "Sometimes adults make promises that they can't keep."

"Why?" You asked.

"Well... There's many reasons, to be honest."

"Was he lying to me?" You asked, staring at the side of his face. His teeth were clenched, you could tell.

"...Nah." His gaze was focused on the hazy orange sky. 

Your short attention span had moved on, "Um, what's your name?"

"I go by a few. N'Jadaka, Erik or Killmonger. Your pick." He listed them off.

"Why so much?"

"Because, my pops named me N'Jakada, my mama named me Erik when I lived in America and I got Killmonger when I was in the navy."

"Why?"

"You ask too many question, little girl. Come on, it's getting cold." He got up from the ground and easily helped you up with one hand. "I think dinner's ready."

You were already liking this new guy.

It had been a week since T'Challa, Queen Mother, Shuri and Nakia's disappearance. Wherever they are, you just prayed that they were doing just fine. You felt hurt that they would leave without letting you know anything, you didn't even know how T'Challa's challenge went. 

You were in your room, getting your hair redone by one of the palace maids. 

"Hey, Kamala?" You began, looking at her through the full-length mirror.

"Hmm?" She didn't look up, too focused on your second last braid.

"Why haven't T'Challa and the others come back yet?"

She paused before meeting your gaze in the mirror with a sympathetic look. "You ask too many questions, (y/n). I told you, only five per session."

"But it's only my fourth one." You whined. And why does everyone keep telling you that?

"Ask something else, I get to choose what I want to answer."

"Fine. Why won't you answer that question?" You were sharp with your tongue.

"Because I don't want to." But she was even sharper. "You have one more question, ask wisely." 

"Hmm..." You thought, but before you could answer, Erik had barged into the room with a smirk. You saw him approach Kamala from behind really close, his hands were too low for you to see where they were going as he whispered into her ear. 

"Later." She whispered back, grinning from ear to ear.

You heard a slapping sound and she yanked your braid, pulling your head back. "Ouch!"

"Oh shoot, sorry baby girl." She soothed the tender spot with her fingers. 

"Shit, princess you're here? I ain't even notice you."

"Hi, Killmonger. And I told you, my name is (y/n)! Not princess."

"Well as your king, imma call you whatever I want." He teased.

"But you're not my king, T'Challa is." Your arms folded against your chest.

His playful demeanour had changed, and you felt the rattail comb pop you in your head. 

"Owww!" You held the throbbing spot.

"(Y/n), have respect for King N'Jakada." Kamala scolded. 

"Nah, it's all good." His smile came back, "I'll see y'all later."

"Okay!" She answered cheerfully and you grumbled.

"...I have my last question." 

"Shoot."

"Do you have a crush on Killmonger?"

The comb had popped you once again, and you hollered, holding the spot she had hit.

"Don't ask such childish questions, (y/n)." 

"You're never doing my hair again!" 

"What's that mask you're holding?" You asked Erik, who just got back from giving instructions to the Border Tribe's leader, W'Kabi. 

"It's a ceremonial mask."

"Is it special? Did you make it? Who gave it to you?" 

"Aye, slow down, princess." He set the mask down on a wooden table. "I was feeling it, so I rightfully took it. And no, I didn't make it."

"Then who did?"

He sighed, "I dunno, shorty." 

You gasped, "Are you making fun of my height? Just because you're taller than me now doesn't mean I won't get taller than you later!" 

He chuckled, of course American slang wasn't used in Wakanda. "It's just a nickname, like princess." 

"Well I don't like it."

"Damn, that's too bad, shorty." He smirked, "But like I said before, imma call you whatever I want."

You charged at him, but he easily dodged you and laughed. 

"We can play after, I got shit to do." He picked up the mask, and waved you goodbye, "See ya later, princess." 

"Hey! Stop cursing and calling me princess! Ugh." You huffed and went into the kitchen to go bother the cooks. If you were lucky, they'd give you a cookie or two.

It was well past your bedtime that was given to you by the Queen Mother, but you couldn't fall asleep, weary of T'Challa's absence. He didn't even try contacting you through the kimoyo beads he gave to you. 

Maybe Killmonger was still awake. So you snuck off to his sleeping quarters. The palace was very still and quiet, no one was around and there were no guards standing at his door. Surprisingly. 

The times that you did try to sneak into his chambers to surprise attack him, either the guards sent you away or the door would be locked. This time, it remained unlocked, so you stealthily opened the door without a sound. 

You were startled when you heard two familiar voices making lewd sounds and saying very inappropriate things that an eight year old should never hear. As you approached his king sized, your eyes doubled in size. You found Erik at the end of the bed, naked and Kamala on her back, naked as well. His body moved forward and hers followed the pace. Your scream startled the both of them. 

"Oh my gosh!" Kamala screamed, and shielded her entire body with the covers.

"Holy fuck!" Erik quickly put his boxers back on. His body was covered in little keloids, but you were way too disgusted to even care about that.

"Oh my God, ewwww!!!!" You screamed, covering your eyes. "Yucky!!!!"

 "How the hell you get in here?" He asked with laboured breaths. 

Before he could get to you, you dashed out of the room with a highly disgusted scowl on your face. You hid yourself under the covers, trying to erase your mind of the horrors that you just witnessed. 

"They were just playing, they were just playing, they were just playing..." You chanted to yourself continuously. A hand touched your covered back, surprising you. You pulled the blanket off of your head and looked at the owner of the hand, Kamala.

"Baby girl, I'm sorry you had to see that."

"That's so nasty!" 

She rubbed your shoulder, without saying anything. 

"You did the thing that mommies and daddies do. You're not a mommy and he's not a daddy!" 

"You'll understand when your older, okay?"

"No, I don't want to understand! I'll never do that! Ever!" You hid your face back underneath the blankets and closed your eyes tight. 

She sighed, tucking you in properly as your foot was dangling off the side of the bed. "Goodnight, (y/n)." She said, turning off the light.

You weren't upset, just highly grossed out. And you had every right to be, being the innocent eight year old that you were. Older Wakandan kids have spoken about it before, but you didn't really grasp an understanding of the concept or what it really was. Honestly, you didn't care to know about it either. It was just two naked people playing on a bed... At least that's all you got from it. But when you saw Erik and Kamala doing a little more than just playing, you understood it a little better. Not that you wanted to.

Another week had passed and still no sign of T'Challa, Shuri, Queen Ramonda or Nakia. 

"Can we play today?" You asked Erik who was sitting comfortably on the throne while snacking on shuku shuku.

"I dunno, Princess. I'm kinda busy."

Your head tilted to the side as you stared at him, "Busy how? You're eating sweets while sitting on King T'Challa's throne!"

"How many times do I have to tell you, I'm the k-" He started coughing, choking actually. 

You ran over to aid him, slapping his back as hard as you could. 

He let out a hard cough, and a piece of the dessert that had lodged in his throat flew out. "Fuck." He cleared his throat. "Let me go get someone to clean this up, then we can go play."

You took a crumpled napkin out of your dress pocket, cleaning up for him, then throwing it out. "Let's go!" You cheered and ran out of the palace. 

He smiled at your eagerness.

"So whatchu wanna play, princess?" He asked, staring at the local women walking by. They greeted him with curt bows as they made their way by.

"I wanna learn how to fight."

"Then why didn't you ask the Dora Milaje to teach you?"

You frowned at him, "Because, I want you to teach me. They're scary."

"Oh and I'm not?"

"No, you're nice."

He laughed at the irony. The world saw him as a monster, and here you are, an innocent little child calling a killer nice. It was ludicrous.

"We could've just done this in the training room." He stated.

You had taken him to a large park in the middle of the city. There were many people roaming about, Erik was on high alert too (the heart-shaped herb gave his senses a booster). He knew that being out in the public wasn't safe, but he wasn't afraid of anyone. Nothing could go wrong. 

"But I like it out here. I get to see new things all the time, plus Queen Ramonda never let me go into the city by myself."

"I got a question for you though."

"Yeah?" 

"How you gonna fight in a dress?" You pulled up your dress, and he turned away. "Yo, put your shit back down!"

"Look!"

"Nah, you wyling." 

"Just look!" 

"This girl got me fucked up." He mumbled to himself, sneaking a little peak. 

"See, it has shorts under it!"

He sighed in relief. "Aye bruh, don't be doing shit like that."

"Why not?"

"You can't just lift your dress up to random dudes. Even if you got shorts built into it."

"But you're not a random dude, you're my friend." 

He felt his heart pang. Erik was astonished at your innocence. Growing up, he had to become a man faster than majority of the kids on earth, losing both of his parents so young and all. His innocence was taken from him at a young age. 

Erik couldn't get rid of you even if he tried, you were refreshing to him, and he really cared about you. Despite the shit he's been through during his time on the throne, you always managed to bring joy into his day. Regardless of your nonstop rounds of twenty questions or you still referring to T'Challa as the current king.

"Aight girl, let's fight." He suppressed his emotions by reminding you of the reason you two were out here in the first place. 

"Right!" You got into a stance, a really bad one Erik would say. Your thumbs were tucked under your fingers into a fist, arms raised high up, leaving your stomach exposed and your feet were parallel, that was like asking someone to knock you onto the ground.

"What the hell is that?" He furrowed his eyebrows.

"I'm squaring up. That's what American's call it."

He started laughing, "That ain't squaring up." He walked over to you, fixing your hands and feet positions. "First of all, never tuck your thumbs, you can break em like that. Second, don't leave your stomach exposed. If you get punched or kicked in the gut, it's over. And last, don't stand with your feet side by side."

"Why not?" You began to ask, but in a smooth move, he knocked you backwards and before you could fall he caught you.

"That's why. Now show me the correct positions."

This time, you laid your thumbs overtop of your digits, your arms guarded your stomach and you had one foot back and the other in front. 

"Good, good." He smiled, "But, when in doubt, just run away."  

"What, I'll never run away!"

"So what if you was fighting someone like me?"

"I'd kick your ass!" 

His eyebrows raised and he had a shocked expression. So you may have been hanging around him too long... "Princess, don't say that."

"Sorry. I'd beat you up!"

He chuckled, "Well I'd like to see you try one day." Erik sat back down and held his palms up to your level. "Punch the middle of my hands as hard as you can."

You recoiled your fists and started swinging, left and right into his hands, but he didn't even move. 

"Come on, harder than that."

You could feel yourself already getting tired. "I am!" It didn't help that he was a hundred times your size. 

"My hand should move back at least an inch."

You huffed and pulled your fist back as far as you could before aiming into his palm.

"Aye, whoa, whoa!" He grabbed your wrist quickly, "This ain't anime, you bout to break your damn hand like that."

"What did I do wrong now?" You whined with a pout.

"You left yourself open again, your opponent could easily kick you in the stomach or some shit." He got up from his seat, "Look, watch how I lead in to my throwing arm." 

You watched as his large arms demonstrated in slow motion. Even though he was probably only putting in two percent, he still looked strong.

"Now you show me."

So you did just as he did, slow then fast, alternating arms. "How's that?"

"It's a good start. You can do some reps into my pa-" The kimoyo beads on his wrist suddenly lit up, Okoye's holographic form appeared. 

"My king, I have very important news for you." She said. 

"Keep practicing. When I'm back, you better be stronger than me." He smirked and you sarcastically laughed. "Aight, wussup?" He walked off, not too far from you, but far enough so you couldn't listen in on their conversation. 

You did exactly what he did, making sure to follow whatever he had taught you. Just recently, you had noticed how quickly the time was changing. Fewer people were in the park, and many shops were closed by now. 

You were getting bored of throwing punches at the air and Erik was taking forever with his call. You sat in the grass, playing with the hem of your dress until a squirrel ran by your foot.

"Hey, come back!" You aimlessly chased after the brown rodent. It bobbed and weaved through the trees and bushes until there was no more. Your feet were back on concrete... Uh oh.

You were lost, not paying attention at all. Nothing looked familiar and the park was so vast and you were so small. There was no way you'd find your way back to the location Erik was at.

"So, you're with that new king?" A man with an unusual looking scar on his cheek asked you.

"Well he's not a king, but his name is Erik. I like to call him Killmonger though." You timidly answered. 

The two other men by his side laughed.

"Is he your friend?"

"Yes! He's teaching me how to fight."

"Oh really?" 

"Yeah!"

"Well where is he now?"

"He's speaking to the scary general of the Dora Milaje. She had something important to tell him."

"So he left you all alone?"

"Not really."

"Of course he did, look you're all by yourself now."

"Well then I gotta get back and look for him. It's almost dinner time." You began walking away, only to be grabbed by the stranger. "Hey, st-" Your mouth was covered by his crusty hands.

"Yo! Princess, where the hell did you go?" You could hear Erik calling out.

"Mmmh!" You tried to scream, but he pressed his hand tighter against your mouth. 

"Say anything else and we'll slice your throat." They all had daggers in their hands. He took the dagger and drew a small X on the back of your hand. Your eyes widened at the pain, as the blood drained out of your hand.

But Erik heard your muffled call for help, along with the smell of blood. He would thank the heart-shaped herb later, but for now he followed it, leading into the alleyway. 

"Aight (y/n), I never said we was playing hide and seek. Come out now, we gotta go back." He stared at you and the three men. Your blood was now staining your dress and some dripping onto the floor along with your tears. "What the fuck is this?"

"Look." The man held your face up to face at Erik, who was looking insane at the moment. "There's your friend."

"Let her go." Erik had taken a step forward, but was stopped once the man held his knife to your neck. He's been in this scenario before, but the ending was not pretty for the hostage or the hostage-taker.

"Ah, ah, ah. You take another step and her head is gone."

Erik clenched his fists together, "She's a kid. What the fuck do you want from her?"

"We don't want anything from her. We want you to give us money." The meatier one said.

"Bruh, y'all the most cliché thugs ever." Erik face palmed, "I don't got time for this, man."

The knife began to cut your neck and you whimpered, Erik could feel his anger bubbling very high. He didn't want to do anything in front of you, but if it was to save you, he'd go to any extremes. 

"Cliché, but very fucking serious."

All Erik could think of was; when did Wakandan's start using western swear words? Then he started to laugh, "I ain't giving you clowns shit. So give the girl back, and y'all can keep your lives."

Now the men laughed, and the tall one said, "There's three of us and one of you."

A smirk grew across Erik's lips, "Y'all must not know who I am then." The necklace started to cover his body into his Black Panther suit and then men stared in awe. "So? I ain't about to ask you again, give me the girl and we can be on our merry ways."

The man shook his head, digging the knife deeper into your neck, drawing blood. "No. We do not care who you are, you're not even the real Black Panther."

"Oh?" And in the blink of an eye, you had traded places with Erik. He was up front, towering over your kidnapper. "Get out of here, princess." 

"I don't wanna leave you." Your tears slightly blurred your vision.

"I'll be right behind you." His voice was oddly calm. "Go!" 

You took off, not knowing exactly where to run, but you knew you wanted to get as far away from there as possible. 

"Get her! I'll take him." The leader yelled at the other two.

Before the men could take off, Erik had kicked the fatter one in his chest, sending him flying backwards into the tall one. They crashed into the wall, denting it in the process. 

"Fuck you thought this was?" He frowned behind the mask. 

The leader pulled out a pistol. Now how did he get ahold of that?

"Your time is up, give us the money. Now!" 

Erik stepped closer and closer, "Or what?"

BANG!

You jumped as you heard the loud sound go off. It was very silent, eerie too. You ran as fast as your little legs could take you, until you had to stop to catch your breath. 

"Don't stop now." Erik's voice had startled you, causing your breathing to pick up once again. "Here, hop on my back."

You climbed on as he bent down. You were exhausted, but you were never too tired to ask questions. "Hey, Killmonger?" You began, as you rested your head onto his back.

"Yeah?"

"Did you do it?"

"What?"

"Did you kill them?"

"Princess, no more questions for today, aight?"

"...Okay."

That night, you saw Erik give himself three more scars. 

A few months had gone by and Wakanda was looking different. You were alone, outside by the patch you had picked a while ago. It had already grown in, but was trimmed down with the rest of the lawn this morning. You were really missing T'Challa and the others, it made you question if he was ever going to come back for you. 

"Yo, princess. Why you out here alone again?" He took a seat beside you.

"Can I ask you a few things, Killmonger?"

"If I say no you're still gonna ask me anyway." 

"What happened to your mama and baba?"

"My mom was locked up, pops was killed by his own people when I was your age."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why was she locked up?"

"I dunno, I was too young to remember."

"Then what about your baba?"

Erik took a long pause before answering, "Because, they ain't see eye to eye with what he wanted for our people."

The look in your eyes could tell him you were confused.

"There's about two billion people in the world that looks just like us. But their lives are a lot harder. My pops wanted to liberate them all from the oppressors."

You listened carefully as he went on about systemic oppression, colonization and living out his father's legacy. It was a lot to take in and you were very surprised that your short attention span allowed you to listen to all of what he had told you.

"What are your scars for?" 

"You sure you wanna know?" He stared at you directly in the eyes. 

"Yes."

"Each one is for a kill..."

"Like a human being?"

He simply nodded, afraid that you would be scared of him.

You were too drained to even care at the moment, still you asked, "Why?"

"I did it to get to where I'm at right now."

You paused, reflecting on his choice of words...

"Can I tell you something now?" You pulled your knees into your chest and rested your chin atop.

"Of course."

"My mama and baba were killed by a man named Klaue."

Erik chuckled, "And do you know what happened to him?"

You shook your head. Erik lifted his arm, showing off a keloid mark on his wrist.

"You killed him?"

"Yep." He sighed.

You hugged your arms around your knees, "...Can I tell you one more thing?"

"Yeah."

"Remember when I asked you to teach me how to fight?"

"What about it?"

"I didn't care to learn how to fight at first because King T'Challa promised to protect me for the rest of his life..."

Erik stared at you intently, not saying anything. The wind blew silent and the night grew colder.

"I knew that promise was broken when I saw you sitting on his throne." You said, muffled into your knees, but Erik heard every word. "And I dreamed about it... The day he would come back and play with me."

When I tell you, I have no idea why all my stories end off so sadly... Whew, and no part 2 for this. Thanks for reading!

"Hey, it's Tasha. I'm on vacation right now. Appointments will resume next month, please don't blow my phone up with time requests. I'll get back to y'all when I'm home. Bye!"

"Nah, sorry boo. I'm full."

"We don't do walk-ins."

"This number is no longer in service, please hang up and try ag-"

You sigh for the tenth time today, tossing your phone to the left on the sofa. Every single one of your stylists were either fully booked or gone away on vacation. Tasha was your go-to, but she was away and you became stressed when her voicemail picked up. 

Erik peered his head out from the kitchen, "You good?" The smell of food wafted into your nose, promising you a delicious dinner later on.

"No, everyones either gone or full." You fold your arms against your chest and sink further into the couch. Times like these were when you wished you listened to your mother and learned how to braid as a child. You proudly (and embarrassingly) belonged to the secret society of black women who don't know how to cornrow braid for shit. 

"Why don't you just go to the lady who does my dreads?" He suggested, but you turned that down immediately.

"I am not paying a hundred dollars to get my hair braided down."

"I'll pay." Yes, Erik was boujee, "A hunnid ain't much." As hell.

Sitting up, you give him an incredulous look, "Okay, Bill Gates." And with an eye roll you add, "That's a waste of money. You know what Tasha could give me for half of that?" And you explain that you could get a wash, braid-up and styling, which was a lot more worth it. You considered wearing a wig, but the ones you had needed to be retired.

"Aight, hold up." He disappeared back into the kitchen, the sound of the stove turning down and metal clanging broke through the silence.

In two days, you had a very important meeting that would potentially change your life and Erik knew how much it meant to you. It was all you would talk about once you got off the phone with the CEO of Beauty Inc.  

After the Cantu and Shea Moisture conundrum, you started your own line of hair products, a small one actually- with a leave-in conditioner, a shampoo and a deep conditioner. At first, you'd hand out samples and sell some products to family and friends. Then when you profited enough, you made an Instagram page dedicated to your small business. You paid for promotions and handed out samples for people to review and eventually your small business became a medium business and now you're on your way to partnering with one of the best beauty and hair companies in the entire country. 100% black owned, by the way.

When Erik reappeared, he had a slight smirk on his lips while scrolling through his phone. 

"What?" 

He sat down beside you and showed you the screen. "Look at this." 

You stared at the three images he had on display. Three different women with three different hairstyles. 

"Those are cute..." You scrolled back and forth between each picture. "But how does this help me, E? I can't braid, you know this."

"Just cuz you don't know how to braid doesn't mean I don't." 

At first it didn't register until you realized how long you were staring at him with a puzzled expression. "You can do what?!" 

"I. Can. Braid." He said slower looking a little annoyed.

If this were a sitcom you would've fainted *cue the laugh track* but Erik was being so serious, the smile on his face had been replaced with a stoic expression. 

"How the hell am I just- Erik! We've been together for how lo- Oh my g-" You couldn't even finish your sentences due to the shock. This man was full of surprises, but this right here definitely put the cherry on top. At some point you got up, pacing back and forth with your fingers resting against your temples. "Boy-"

He grabbed your arm to stop you from moving, "Chill baby, you acting like you ain't never seen a man braid."

"Nah that's not even it! You of all people can braid!?" You're not exactly sure why you were reacting like this... Maybe it was out of embarrassment that your hyper-masculine boyfriend could do something so stereotypically female that you couldn't. This had to be something he learned during the military, but what would they be braiding other than ropes? If they even did that! 

"So you gon' let me do your hair or nah?" 

With a hefty sigh (that he called you out for), you grabbed a pillow off of the sofa and placed it in between his feet. "Hold on." You retreated to go get your hair products for this man to either slay or destroy your hair.

By time you got back with your styling tools and hair products, Erik had set on a comedy movie, one that he's seen a million times, but you refused to watch it- not anymore of course as you were now trapped in between his legs.

"Oh nah, you're hot as hell." You got up even faster than when you sat down and went to blast the AC. 

"That ain't me, that was all you. Pacing around the damn room like you was warming up for track or some shit."

You sat back down, scooting closer to rest your back. "I can't believe I'm doing this." 

"Have faith in me baby, when have I ever let you down?"

You could recall a few times, "Remember our first date?"

"Aye, that was a first date. Them shits never go as planned." He retaliated.

"You're lucky I even considered a second date."

He began to chuckle, "I made it up to you with my fire di-" But he always fixed it.

"Okay!" You slapped his leg. "See, all you think about is pussy!"

"Nah, that's not all."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I think about your booty and tits too." 

You roll your eyes and slap him even harder on the calf, "Nasty ass."

"Anyway, you ain't choose a hairstyle." He leaned down showing you the options again, his torso resting on your head.  

"Hmm..." You scrolled back and forth one last time before going with your favourite style, "That one." 

"Aight cool." He sat up and you could hear him rub his hands together, "My baby bout to look sexy as hell."

"And if you do anything st-"

"(Y/n), chill. I said I got this, quit all that worryin' shit." He untied the wrap off of your head and tossed it to the side. 

"I'm serious, E. You know how much this meeting means to me."

"And you acting like my hands have never been in other chick's hair."

Your eyes widened as you got ready to stab him in the leg with the rattail comb. "WHAT?"

He erupted into a laughter, "Chill. I'm just playing!" He began taking the twists out one by one.

Oh he he ha ha now nigga, you almost made me stab you in the fuckin' popliteal. "You ain't funny." 

"I am funny, you just don't know how to take a joke."

"My other niggas are a lot more funnier than you." You tease with a serious tone.

"Aw hell naw, see (y/n). Why you tryna get somebody killed? I can do that shit right now."

"Chill. I'm just playing." You mock his response. 

"Oh you got jokes, huh?"

"Yup, just like my other niggas." You quip, this time with a smile. A feeling you have not felt since you were a child painfully tingled your head. "Did you just pop me in my head?!"

"You're misbehaving. And if you wanna act like a child, I gotta treat you like one."

You wanted to bite his hypocritical ass. "Boy, fuck you."

"Like I said, we can do that later."

For the rest of the time, you both continued to exchange remarks to tick each other off. You got popped in the head at least five more times with each comb. At one point you did end up biting him on the thigh, but that only resulted in him starting the braid over because you screwed it up according to him. He surprisingly wasn't rough as he usually was with everything else (despite getting hit by the comb) and he was very precise. You could catch a small glimpse in the camera on your phone, but each time you tried to look, he would yank your head back so you couldn't see. You had to remind him that your neck wasn't made out of jello. 

One thing you learned from this experience was that Erik is huge on perfection and tidiness. Now the cleanliness of his big ass house made sense. You thought he hired a thousand maids, but each time you've been there you haven't seen one. When your bedroom was a mess, Erik would actually go in there and tidy up for you, but not before criticizing you of course.

If a braid looked slightly crooked or not good enough, he'd take it out and start over. No, he was no professional, but he wanted his girl to look amazing after he was finished. 

The movie was coming to an end and you were ready for him to be out of your hair. Not that it didn't feel good when his fingers ran across your scalp, but you were very anxious and based on the conversation you both shared within that time, he could've been ruining your hair just to be petty.

"Eriiiik?" You whine.

"Hmm?" He was done the braids and now fluffing your curls.

"You didn't fuck me over, right?"

He sighed, "What, you don't trust me?"

"I ain't never seen you do hair in my life. What am I suppose to expect?"

"Greatness." He simply said, adding shea butter to seal in the moisture. "Trust a nigga sometimes, baby. I'd never have you looking like a fool."

He wasn't lying. Erik always had you in the latest fashion, even though you asked him to stop buying clothes worth half of your pay check. Not that you had bad taste, but as said before, Erik was boujee- as hell. 

Suddenly the thought came to your head. When the hell did he even find the time to learn how to braid? He was usually always so damn busy. 

"So who taught you?"

He sucked a breath in between his teeth before responding, "You gon' get mad."

Already knowing the answer you still ask, "Why?"

"Cuz you was prolly expecting me to say something like my grandma." He scratched the back of his neck and sat back, "But it was that hairdresser I was messing around with." 

You knew exactly which one. Kaleisha. 

That's actually how you met Erik. And it actually explains a lot of why she unexpectedly banned you from going back to her salon. Erik's dumbass just had to flirt with you in front of her clients. If gossip was an olympic sport, the whole shop would've won first place all the time. You didn't know they were a thing at first, not until Miss Betsy, an elder lady who wore the stiffest wigs, warned you. She was in everybody's business, inside and outside of the salon.

"The one that kicked me out cuz of you." You grumbled and got up to stretch as he finished. He watched your back arch, reminding himself to get it even deeper later on.

"Right." He gave you a coy smile, "Aye turn around, lemme see that pretty face."

You didn't even try to fight your grin as you turned around. The smile on his face was enormous. It was a bit scary too, he was usually frowning or not broadcasting any emotion. 

"I. Did. That. WHEW!" He jumped off the sofa, startling you and pulling you into a tight. "Sexy ass!" He littered your face with kisses.

"E! St-stop!" You laughed, barely able to push him away. When he finally let you go, you ran over to the mirror to see his accomplishment. You stared at your hair in awe. He really did that! You were speechless honestly, it was excellent! Better than some of the hairdressers you've been too. 

He smiled at you, "I told you I know what I'm doing."

"Ain't no way!" You were astounded. How the hell could he braid better than you!? Well actually to be fair, you didn't obtain that skill and you refuse to ask him how. He'd hold that over you till the day you die. You continued to admire your hairstyle while saying, "Oh my God." It made you wonder who he been practicing on for it to be this good, so you ask.

He frowns, "What did I tell you before? Trust a nigga sometimes."

You turn around and give him a hug, "Thank you baby! I love it."

"Anything for you, shorty. But, imma need a payment." His tone became very mischievous. 

"Payment?" You narrowed your eyes at him.

"Yeah, you thought shit was free?"

"Uhh... Yeah." 

"Nah lil mama, show me that arch and we can negotiate a payment method." 

This ni- Fuck it, if there's anything he deserved right now it would be this. 

Oh, and your meeting with that CEO went a lot better than you thought. You would definitely be thanking Erik for giving you that glow and a confidence boost when you got home.

Thanks for reading!

I was actually gonna let Erik do normal cornrows (that ended up being a bit messy) so she could wear a wig, but I said screw that. I feel like Erik would perfect anything, and plus he's a smart guy so I'm sure he'd be able to braid. 

P.S. Who else belongs to the secret society of black women who don't know how to braid? 😂 I'm half in-half out lol, I just need more practice.

(Start/Finish: January 4-5, 2019)

Ah wash day... Great fun, right?

The night before, you prepped your hair with a homemade deep conditioner: Two tablespoons of coconut oil, one tablespoon of honey, one tablespoon of olive oil and half of a banana. For your scalp, you applied raw aloe vera and let it all sit underneath a plastic bag (which Erik laughed at you for) and your black satin bonnet. 

He always found a way to poke fun at your natural routine. 

Once you were too lazy to blend the banana out properly and you ended up with little banana seeds in your hair for almost two weeks. Then there was the time when you were upset and your rough hand caused aloe vera to break off into your hair. That took another two weeks to come out. He would either pluck them out and hold it up to your face while making a witty comment or he'd let you go out with the pieces in your hair if you were being stubborn. Erik being taller than you was both a blessing and a curse.

You woke up a little earlier to get wash day out of the way. You were hoping Erik would still be sleeping, but as you began shifting to get out of the bed, his strong arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you back in. 

"Where you going?" He asked into your neck. His voice wasn't as raspy as usual and you could smell fresh mint as he spoke, so you'd assumed he'd been awake for some time.

"Wash day." You responded, pointing to your bonnet which was halfway off of your head and the plastic bag underneath had untied itself at some point during the night.  

"Lemme help you." He said, placing a kiss against your neck.

"What? No." You chuckled, as he turned you around to be face to face with him. 

His eyes were serious, "Why not?"

"Cuz no one touches my hair but me."

"But what about that time you was taking your braids out. I helped." 

Your eyebrows raised, "Hell naw, you almost cut my hair!"

"But I didn't." He retaliates. "Come on bae, this is different."

You pull out of his grasp and get out of the bed, "Nah, you might use Nair in my hair instead of shampoo."

 He gets up and follows you to the bathroom, "I ain't dumb, baby girl. Besides, how you think I be maintaining my dreads?"

Your arms fold against your chest as you scoff, "You go to that expensive Nigerian hairdresser in the city." 

"Aight, but- I'm at your place almost everyday and you always doing something to your hair. You think I don't watch you sometimes?" 

You open the vanity and take out a denman brush and four hair ties. "Well, if you watch me so much then tell me what I'd be doing next?"

"You gonna wash that shit out ya hair." He shrugged. 

He wasn't completely wrong, but not completely right either. "Not co-"

He holds his hand up, "But, first you gonna put on your playlist- Lofi hip hop." His eyebrow raises, "Right?"

"...Right." You stood corrected.

Erik was always the type who took studying very seriously. Sure he'd goof around, but when it was time to have the knowledge and information, he could provide it, regardless if it was studying for tests or studying a person's behaviour. You were no exception, Erik knew you better than you knew yourself (is what you believed at times).

"So let me help you then. I hear you letting out these hefty ass sighs when you think I'm not around."

You roll your eyes, "That's cuz my arms get tired. Sighing helps."

"How bout you relax, let me help you so you don't gotta be sounding like Chewbacca." 

"Boy, fuck you." You shake your head, hiding a laugh.

"Shiiiid, we can do that later." He smirks with lustful eyes.

You slap his chest as you pass by him, turning on the shower. "You know what?" You exit the bathroom leaving him with a big smile on his face.

"What you doing now?" He asks, still chuckling.

When you come back, you're dressed in a pair of old shorts and sports bra. "So your horny ass doesn't get any ideas."

"Hold up, you was about to get naked?" 

"Yes, but I forgot your mind thinks about pussy ninety-nine point nine percent of the time." Before he could protest you stop him, "I'd rather not have nut in my hair." Your comment makes him burst into another fit of laughter.

"Well I ain't showering in my drawls." He says, stripping out of his clothes, his morning wood present.

You stare at him with disgust and point at the tent in his boxers, "This is what I'm talkin' about!"

"I swear I won't try nothing." 

You raise your eyebrow.

"I swear on T'Challa's life."

You frowned at him, "You almost killed him, Erik."

"But I didn't." He quips with a smirk.

"You're stupid." You shake your head and step into the shower, adjusting the temperature because it had gotten cold. He follows you in (naked) and let's you throw the plastic bag and bonnet out of the shower. His hands find their way around your hips, "If you try anything, I'll cut your dreads off in your sleep."

He lets go of you, "Damn girl, was it really that serious?"

"It's always that serious." You hand him your favourite shampoo and conditioner, "After you wash my deep conditioner out, use this."

"I know what I'm doing, (y/n)." He takes the top section of your hair, gently unraveling it from it's twist. 

"Uh-huh. We'll see about that."

He delicately rinses the section out, making sure to remove any banana seeds or aloe vera pieces (making a mental note to make fun of that later). He opens the bottle of shampoo, squeezing more than a dime size amount into his palm (because we all know that "dime-size" shit does not work) and works it into your hair starting from the ends, working his way up to your roots.

"Make sure you don't put it on my scalp though, becau-" You try to warn him, but he stops you.

"Baby." 

"What?"

"I know what I'm doing, I promise."

You sigh, "Alright. But if you try anything I swear to God-"

"Relax." He pats your bum, "I got this. Trust me." 

After he completes the section, he washes it out, getting all the suds out and grabs the conditioner. The water begins to get cold, so you adjust it again. He tells you to close your eyes, but you already did, even before the solution started to cascade down your forehead. He works the conditioner into your hair just like he did with the shampoo and twists it, attempting to make a bantu knot to keep it out the way. Of course it didn't stay so you hand him one of the hair ties and he ties it around your hair.

So far, you're quite impressed. You haven't said much, only when you thought he was about to do something incorrect, but you did trust Erik. The only reason you were so antsy with him being in your hair is due to childhood trauma of jealous hair dressers or you just being a young dumb kid who played with scissors. Let's not even talk about your straight hair phase during the ninth grade. You worked too hard for the condition of your hair to let anyone mess that up now. 

When he finished the last section, he suggested a quickie, but you were adamant about not getting semen in your hair. He promised that he would avoid your it, but you were still skeptical. His hands have been roaming all over your body ever since, getting you hot.

"Come on baby girl, we gon' be standing here doing nothing."

You were glaring at him, "I already told yo-"

"Just the tip."

"As if you know what that means." You roll your eyes.

He knows you're right, just the tip does not exist in his book. "Then just a quickie. Nothing more, nothing less." He caresses your hips.

"Fine, but that's it cuz you still gotta comb my hair out." You pull off your shorts.

"I gotcha, don't worry." He turns you around and lifts you up. Your legs wrap around his waist as he slides his fingers down in between your folds. His deft fingers work into your core, pumping in and out at a slow pace.

"A quickie, Erik." You remind him with panting breaths.

"Yeah, yeah." He slides his fingers out and lifts them in front of your mouth. "Taste."

And so you do. He watches you suck his digits, but you recoiled at the chemical taste of your shampoo and conditioner. "Eugh! Erik, you still got some on your fingers!"

"Oh shit, my bad." He runs his fingers under the falling water. "Try again?"

"No, just stick it in." You demand.

He presses your back against the cold tile, causing your body to shudder as he guides himself into your core. You both let out a moan and you close your eyes as he rocks his hips into yours. Your nails dig into his back as he thrusts into you, getting deeper each time. 

"Ohhh, Erik." You sigh. 

Your lips meet his in a passionate kiss, as he pumps into you. You were sure this looked very steamy and romantic, sexy enough for TV or a movie even.

"You like that, huh?" 

"Mhmmm, ohhh."

It was all great until the water suddenly went extremely cold, you yelp loudly and he lets out an animalistic sound due to the water directly hitting him. He almost loses his footing, and you have another mini heart attack, prepared for your life to end.

"Oh my God!" You cling onto his body extremely tight, feeling your heart beating in your throat.

"It's aight, I gotchu." He pants and adjusts the water back to a warm setting. "Fuck, you need to switch apartments, this shit is whack. Can't even fuck in the shower in peace." 

You try to get off, but he holds you in place. His dick throbs inside of you, and it feels harder than before.

"Where you going?"

"Nah, I almost met the Lord. Put me down, Erik."

"Hold up, we ain't even finished."

"N- Ohhhhh!" You bury your face into his neck as he thrusts into your at an incredibly ridiculous speed, "Fuuuhhh, Erik!" Your nails dug into his biceps.

"J-just a b-bit more." He grunts, hitting you deep in your most sensitive spot. 

You already hit your climax, coating him with your warm fluids. He then slows down and with three deep thrusts he pulls out and sets you down, releasing onto your stomach.

"Whew, shit." He sighs, content plastered on his face. "Now let's hurry up, cuz if ya shower do that again, your landlord is getting shot." You almost forgot that there was still conditioner in your hair. You were ready to get out, legs shaky with that post-sex feeling.

"Don't shoot my landlord, Erik." You laughed at him. He smiled, but he was very serious. 

He started to comb out the knots from your hair, ends to roots, like he wasn't just all up in your guts. Erik made sex seem like nothing, but then there was you, barely able to last two rounds with him. Tapping out was never an option, you'd be too weak to do that by time he was done with you. 

He had fantastic dick. Period. 

"So you still gon' cut my dreads?" He asks, washing out the conditioner from your hair. 

"Mmh... I dunno."

He twists the section back up, and pulls the hair tie off of his wrist, wrapping it around your hair. "But you know if you cut my hair I might not be able to dick you down like that. You know the story of Samson?" 

You scoffed, "Erik, do not use an Israelite warrior to justify your dick." 

"But it's true." He begins on the next section.

"Whatever, E." You laugh.

By time he's done all four sections, his hands are running through your scalp giving you the best massage you could ever ask for. Moans escaped your lips unintentionally.

"Aye, you gotta stop making them sounds, shorty."

"What are you talking about?"

"You moaning and shit, making my dick hard again." 

"Boy, if you don't get ya horny ass on." You slap his chest, turn off the pipe right before the water got cold again and step out of the shower.

He follows you out, "So no round two?"

You roll your eyes at him through the mirror as you fix a towel turban around your wet hair, "I gotta do my hair, you're delaying me!"

"Aight shit, my bad." He holds his hands up in defence. 

"Horny ass..." You mumble under your breath, grabbing your towel. 

So that was part one! I hope you enjoyed!

I know everyone's hair care routine is different and mine is usually very simple. I switch it up a bit here and there. Oh yeah, that deep conditioner ingredient mix I listed at the very beginning is what I actually use (when I'm in the mood to make it) and it works very well. I'm one of the lucky gals whose hair/scalp doesn't mind coconut oil, and my hair loves bananas too.

Happy Holidays! Thanks for reading! 

Mere moments ago, you and Shuri were working on new upgrades for T'Challa's suit as it inflicted damage from a previous battle, but that was cut short as soon as the king bursted into the laboratory, staggering with the intruder hunched over his shoulder. 

Now, you're both trying to save the man who tried to kill T'Challa and exploit Wakanda.  

"Shuri, he's not breathing!" Your fingers felt underneath the previous king's nose, in search for air flow.

You watch the teenager grab a respirator from a cabinet and rush over, connecting it to his face. "Brother, did you stabilize him?"

"Yes." T'Challa stood five feet away from the operating table, his usual peaceful expression was replaced with a grim one.

Your hand moved to his neck, checking for a pulse. "His pulse is weak." His face was visibly becoming more pale, his scarred chest barely moving. "We need to start right no-"

A cripplingly strong hand gripped your wrist, almost subduing you to your knees. He stumbled off the bed with a pained grunt, pinning you down in his place. For someone who was dying, he was still incredibly strong. The look on his face was terrifying, murderous even.

"The fuck y'all doin' to me, huh!?" He snarled, his hand digging into your flesh.

You struggled to free yourself from his grasp. T'Challa ran over, but was knocked across the room. Shuri knew better than to run at a mad man with adrenaline coursing through his veins. 

"I'll kill all of y- Argh!" He jolted forward, and reached for the object that had just stabbed him in his back. Instantly, his grip loosened and you were able to get away before his body collapsed. 

"Are you alright?" Shuri asked, placing the tranquilizer gun down. 

"Yeah, I-I'm alright." You lied. Your heart was beating rapidly, and you were sure he might've broken a bone or two in your wrist. That could be treated later, right now you had to focus. 

"We must get to work right away." 

You nodded, shaking off your nerves. Neither of you were to thrilled about this, after what he had done to Wakanda and so many people, but T'Challa had requested for this. At the end of the day, Killmonger was still a human being who made mistakes just like everyone else. 

In less than two hours, the surgery was completed and Killmonger was brought into another room (with high security) to heal and rest.

Shuri was wrapping a cast around your left wrist. During the surgery, she noticed you flinch a couple of times when you had to use it. 

"I hope T'Challa knows what he's doing." Shuri said absentmindedly. 

"Me too." You agreed, staring at the cast. It was not a traditional cast, rather it was less bulky, but even more affective. 

"Are you sure you want to watch him?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine."

Erik was woken up by delicate hands running over his chest. His eyes shot open to the culprit, fixing his bandages. You hadn't noticed his stare as you adjusted the wrap, making it tight enough so it wouldn't come apart. 

He remembered seeing your face when he was woken up a while back, but his mind was not in the right space. This time, he was calm and took every second to admire your beauty. 

"How long was I out for?" His raspy voice came at you causing you to jump. 

You pull back and collect your composure, not making any eye contact. "About day or two." 

He nods his head as you walk to the garbage, throwing out the old bandages, his eyes lingered on your backside. "So what, you my nurse or somethin'?"

You wash your hands, "You could say that." 

He noticed your lack of a Wakanda accent he was so use to hearing during his time as the king. "Where you from?"

"What do you mean? I'm Wakandan." You dry your hands and finally turn around making eye contact. His eyes were filled with both curiosity and danger. Of course if he tried anything, the Dora Milaje outside would be there to help you. That, or you could punch him in his stab wound, it would cripple him for sure.

"Nah, that ain't no Wakandan accent, ma. You're just like me, American."

"I am nothing like you, intruder." You snapped, in which he chuckled. 

"Then tell me what you are." He folded his arms across his chest, flinching slightly, but you noticed.

"I don't need to answer to you." You grab your purse and head towards the exit, "I'll be back in a few hours to check on you. Don't do anything stupid." 

He only responds with a smirk, placing his arms behind his head. 

The following day, you were attending to Erik just as before. 

"I don't get it..." He said, eyes watching your hands as they rewrapped the bandages.

"You don't get what?"

"Why I'm still here." His voice was flat as he spoke.

You looked into his eyes, "Honestly, I don't get it either. You should've been dead." 

The left corner of his mouth tugged upwards, "As cold as that is, you right."

"You should really thank T'Challa." He scoffed at that, "Because if you left it up to the princess, me or anyone else we would not be having this conversation right now." You finished wrapping the bandage, making a mental note to get some more. His large, muscular frame used up a lot.

"You know what I also don't get..."

"What?"

"You say you'd side to kill me, but here you are tending to my wounds and shit..." You paused for a second, avoiding any eye contact, "It's just you and me. If you wanted to kill me, you could've easily done that... But you didn't. Why not?"

He was right. Based on the reputation he has with everyone, you could easily kill him and no one would reprimand you for it... They would probably throw a celebration. But word hasn't got out that the ferocious Killmonger is still alive and being tended to. 

"Like I said, intruder. I am nothing like you. Killing is not something we do." You began to take your leave, "T'Challa wants to help you, he sees something in you that none of us do." The sass in your tone intrigued him.

As the door closed, you could hear Killmonger laughing. You couldn't tell if it was genuine or sarcastic.

The following weeks were hectic. There was an uproar when the kingdom found out Killmonger was still alive and healing up. But T'Challa being the great leader he is, promised everyone that everything would be fine. That would start with rebuilding Killmonger through the best therapist in all of Wakanda. From what you heard, it was very shaky in the beginning, but things started to get better. He would soon have some freedom, but trust had to be gained. 

Within those weeks that you tended to Erik, you found yourself growing closer to him. Even though you really didn't want to, he kept drawing you in like bait. It was kind of scary, you went from opposing the guy, to actually feeling sympathy for him.

In the beginning, you would tend to his wounds as quickly as possible, answer a few questions and then leave. Now, you were sitting by his bedside, having a normal conversation with him.

"I did that?" He gently took your hand into his large ones. 

The cast was still on your wrist, turns out he did more than just fracture the bone. A week of repair turned into two months instead, and your hand was still not fully healed. 

"Yeah." You replied, watching as his brought your hand up to his lips. You were shocked when he placed a kiss on it.

"I'm sorry." 

"Sure..." You pulled your hand away and got up, "Please make sure you're taking your meds."

"Aight, ma." He gave you a small wave as you left.

Another month had passed and Erik had proven himself. Though he still had his moments, he gained trust within the palace, and he even built a relationship with the royal family. Especially with Shuri. 

"Are you sure you don't need the brace anymore?" Shuri asked, while pouring liquid vibranium into a test tube. 

You stretched your fingers as you slipped a glove on, "Yeah, I'm good."

Today, you both were working on improving the maglev train system. The fight T'Challa and Erik had down there somehow disrupted the smooth flow.

"Of course those two idiots had to ruin it. This design was not easy." Shuri let out a frustrated sigh. "...But I am grateful that brother saved me."

"Well hopefully we won't have to fix it again." You said, adding a binding agent to the vibranium solution.

"Who you callin' an idiot?" Erik's voice travelled through the room before he was visible.

"You, idiot." She said again and you giggled.

"Whatever." Then he looked at you, "I'll just talk to someone who actually likes me." 

You raised an eyebrow, "Who said I like you?"

He made a fake shocked expression, "Damn ma, I'm hurt."

"So what brings you here anyway?" Shuri voiced. 

"Am I not allowed to visit or somethin'?"

"Of course you can, but knowing you that's not the only reason why you are here."

"I don't want nothin', I swear." He held his hands up in defence. 

He let the two of you work in peace, observing from a distance as you mixed and pieced together different elements. Occasionally the two would pick fun at each other and sometimes you were dragged into the mix.

His presence often made you nervous though, and it caused you to make mistakes. You almost blew up half of the lab, but luckily Shuri was there to stop you before anything happened. 

"I'm gonna head to bed now, goodnight." You said to the cousins, placing your lab coat on a rack. 

"Goodnight." They both said at the same time, watching you leave.

Shuri turned to face Erik, "So..." 

"So what?" He questioned. 

"You like her don't you."

Erik made a puzzled expression, "What? Nah."

"Come on cousin, don't lie to me..."

"I'm not..."

"..."

"..."

"You're bold enough to try and take down an entire country, but you're running from your emotions? Pathetic." She scoffed at him. 

"Well damn, Shuri. Don't call me out like that." Her words actually got to him. 

"I am just being honest." She hung her lab coat up as well, "So, what is the issue?" 

"I uh... Need your advice." He admitted. 

"For what?" 

"I'm tryna talk to shorty, but I don't think she really feeling me like that."

As hard as she tried, Shuri could not contain her laughter causing Erik to frown. 

"Really?" He said in an unamused tone. 

"Wow. You know how to do everything, but talk to a woman?" 

"That's a lie, of course I know how to talk to women." 

Which was true, he did know exactly how. But Erik did not want to take his usual approach with you. Back in America, Erik never wanted a real relationship with another woman, he used them as pawns or just for his own pleasure. The closest he got to a 'boyfriend-girlfriend' relationship was with Linda, but she was there for temporary use like the others.

"The thing is... I ain't tryna come off the way I use to. I did some shit and I regret it."

"Is that so?" She raised an eyebrow. 

"Yeah. I don't wanna hurt her the way I did with the other females."

"If I'm not mistaken, you broke her wrist..." 

Shuri was ruthless, he thought to himself. "I was in a panic, I could literally see the light. You would be the same if you was talkin' to Bast then all of a sudden pulled back into reality."

He was right. Shuri just silently listened to all that he was saying.

"And plus... A broken wrist ain't even that bad compared to the other stuff I did. I used, cheated... Killed." He sighed, "Look, I don't wanna scare her away or nothin', she's cool."

"Just don't treat her as an object for your own use, be sweet to her. Show her that you appreciate her." Shuri listed other tips for Erik and he listened to every word. "Don't overthink it." 

"Gotcha. Thanks cuz." He said and she nodded.

They walked to the exit of the lab, but Shuri stopped him before they parted ways. 

"Oh and one last thing." 

"Wassup?"

"Do not hurt her, and if you do, your days will be numbered." 

Erik was taken aback by the seriousness in her tone. Never has he seen that side of her, not even when he almost killed her. 

"Damn, I won't." He rubbed the back on his neck, avoiding eye contact.

"Good." And just like that, the content teenager returned. 

There were nights where you stayed up, thinking about Erik. You tried and tried to get him out of your mind, but the harder you tried, the more he kept coming up. In the beginning, you were hostile towards him, spare for you nursing him back to health. Now, he became a dear friend to you. One that you would converse with very often. The more you were around him, the more your feelings grew for him. 

It was almost the same for him. Erik stayed up with you running through his mind, but he let it happen. When he was healing from his wounds, he wanted you to resign, but you were following your orders that were given by T'Challa. The more you stuck around to help, the more he found the will to live and he hated it.

Why couldn't they just let me die in peace...

Erik strolled through the dimly lit palace, deciding that he wasn't getting any sleep. The balcony door was left open and he the cool breeze from the midnight air brushed over his bare chest, not phasing him. It was nice, considering he was burning up from the heatwave earlier. 

When he got closer, he noticed your figure standing by the ledge. Erik was well aware of how silently he could move and that would frighten any unsuspecting target, but he made it clear that he didn't want to scare you off, so he tapped on the glass before stepping in. 

"Yo." He greeted, observing your outfit. The red satin nightgown almost had him drooling as it fit your frame so perfectly. You had no makeup on and your hair was put up in one. Your natural beauty was very pleasing to him.

"Hey, Erik." You smiled at him, taking note of how well the scar on his chest healed up before returning your gaze back into the night sky. 

He rested his arms against the rail, "So why you up here all alone?" 

"I couldn't sleep, and I like to come here to think."

He nodded and looked into the sky, "My pop's was right, it's beautiful."

You looked at him, the glow of the moon made him look ethereal. Angelic even. "It really is. They say Wakanda is one of the few places where you can still see a sea of stars over the city." 

He glanced at you from his peripherals as you spoke about the starry sky. The both of you marinated in the silence until he found the wits to speak up.

"Do you trust me?" 

You turned to face him, though his gaze remained in the sky. "Why do you ask?"

"Because out of all these people, you the only one that's really been helping me. If it weren't for you, I probably woulda been killed off."

Your eyebrow raised, "That was thanks to King T'Challa actually. Shuri and I were surprised when he hauled you into the lab." 

He turned to look at you, there was an unusual sadness in his eyes, "Nah. I told you, you had every opportunity to sabotage my healing process. You coulda slipped something into my meds, suffocated me with a pillow while I was sleep, anything." He sighed, "And even though I was bein' hard on you, you still attended to me... Why?"

You thought for a moment. "...Because I have a conscience. T'Challa saw something in you that no one did, and as time moved on I think I started to see it too. Even if you were made to be a weapon, at the end of the day, you still are a human being. Everyone deserves a second chance." 

A cool breeze brushed against your skin, causing goosebumps to form all over your arms. Erik took notice and decided to share his body heat with you. Your back rested against his chest, his arms wrapped around you. He felt like a blanket, but with bumpy flesh and ripped muscles.

"What are you doin' to me girl?" The timbre in his voice dropped.

"I-I don't know what you mean." The proximity made your nerves spike again.

"I know you feel it." His heart was beating incredibly fast, and you did notice his pupils were dilated, but at first you assumed it was due to the dark.

"A-are you alright? Your heart is beating pretty fast." 

He turned you to face him, taking your hand and placing it against his chest, "That's cuz of you... Look, I ain't use to none of this sappy shit, but I'm feelin' you, girl."

You slowly looked into his eyes, which were so focused on you.

"I ain't never felt like this before and it's scarin' the shit outta me, but I'm hoping that you're willing to give me a chance... Like you always do." 

You had no words, shocked that this man was capable of any other emotion than anger. But even more surprising was the fact that he was catching feelings for you, and you were the same. 

"Come on, say something..." He sounded so desperate, it almost made you want to tear up. 

Instead of responding, you pulled him in for a kiss. He was surprised at first, but soon followed, allowing the kiss to become more passionate. You held onto his cheeks and one of his hands went behind your neck and the other was placed onto your hip to deepen the kiss.

When you both finally pulled apart, out of breath, he had a smile and you were blushing. There was nothing more to be said as you guided him to your room. You were always better at showing rather than telling.

And at least you both were able to sleep good; exhausted bodies and peaceful minds.

I really hope this lived up to the request expectations, this really took me a while to write because I've been lacking creative juice once again, smh.

But I hope you all enjoyed! (And no, I didn't spend 10 days writing this, I took breaks to see if I could become inspired along the way lol)

You think you'd know everything about a man, but one phrase could change that in an instant.

You were at Erik's apartment, eating plantain chips from his bar stool while watching reruns of Fresh Prince. If it wasn't this show, then it was a documentary on a historic black leader or something on the sports network because he always left it on.

Erik had engaged furthering your friendship into a dating relationship with him about two months ago and within that time he really opened up to you. Or so you thought.

You hadn't noticed him stroll out of the bedroom, too busy laughing at Jazz getting tossed out of the Banks' mansion by Uncle Phil.

He was dressed down in a black pair of basketball shorts and a black wife beater with his signature chain that had your legs clenching the second you made eye contact with him.

This was usually his outfit when he was ready haul you over his shoulder and toss you on the couch, pin you against the wall, or have you mount him on his king sized bed, but the look in his eyes was saying otherwise.

There was no fire, no dominance or excitement that he often possessed, just guilt. It made you nervous.

"What's up, E?" You leaned back into his chest as his arms wrapped around your torso. "You look... Upset."

"Aye, we gotta talk about something."

"You're making me nervous."

He rotated the bar stool and looked you dead in the eyes. Now that you could get a closer look, something else was there... Fear maybe?

"Are you seeing someone else?" You blatantly ask, no jealousy or anger in your tone, just genuine curiosity.

He narrowed an eyebrow, "What? Hell nah, I already told you how I feel about you. I wouldn't do anything to screw that up, especially not for a quick nut."

Well that gets rid of that anxiety. Erik was honest, you can't recall a time he'd lie to you. Even if it took a while for some of the things he said to fall into place, they'd always end up being true.

"Look, baby... I ain't been a hundred with you."

You raised an eyebrow. "And what do you mean by that?"

He pulled off his shirt, giving you a lovely view of his muscular, broad, scarred chest. You lifted your hand and ran your fingers over the keloids on his left pectoral muscle.

"I don't think I ever told you the real meaning of these." He began, staring at your delicate hand.

You shook your head, remembering how he would brush it off or explain it was cultural. "Well considering your Wakandan background, and hotep nature it only made sense... Right?" You joked in hopes to lighten the atmosphere.

He stayed silent, as you raised your head to meet his eyes.

"I think my only real question was, why so many?"

It took Erik forever to come clean about his scars to you. You were not in favour of taking life away on any level. He knew that.

You knew about Erik's past; what happened to his parents, how it was moving through the system, going to MIT and a bit about the military. But he never got into detail about that.

Erik didn't want to lose you over his own choices, you were the most stable, and consistent person in his life. You were like the missing piece, as he lacked love, care and a genuine friendship, but you brought that all to him. If he lost you now, he wouldn't know what to do.

He placed his hand over yours, right above his rapidly beating heart.

"I didn't do this to be cultural..."

A million possible answers raced through your mind.

Was it by habit? A lost bet? Is scarification a kink that you never knew about? Did someone force him to do it?

Erik watched the gears in your mind turn before deciding to come clean.

"Each one is for a kill." He finally admitted, his voice was softer than you ever heard before.

You blankly stared into his eyes, still denying what he could possibly mean. "Wh-what? Like an insect or a- a..."

"A life I've taken. A human life."

Your hand slowly fell down to your side as your eyes traced over each scar decorating his torso and arms.

"A h-hu-human... Erik th-that's gotta be a joke... There's way too many." You slid out of the chair, the plantain chips and whatever you had for breakfast was rising out of your stomach into your throat.

He shook his head and gave you an apologetic look.

"N-no..." Your heart was pounding as hard as his. Those scars, those marks of murder... The same ones that rubbed against your chest as he made love to you the night before, the same ones that you loved to run your fingers across...

The look in his eyes told you that he was far from joking. He lifted his arm towards you, but you dodged it and backed away from him all the way to the front door. Not a word was exchanged between the two of you the entire time, just stares of shock and dismay. 

It was at least a week before you saw Erik again. He sent you a text on the first day, the typical apology and wanting to explain. But you blocked his number for the time being, recollecting your thoughts and trying to process the situation at hand.

You really loved Erik, truly. But this was news and a huge surprise. Of course you never really looked into the meaning of cultural scars, they had different meanings and they were rare in North America outside of indigenous populations.

You were angry, upset, and a bit scared. There was just so many!

Your fear of becoming another marking on his body was just an irrational thought. He's never lashed out at you or done anything where you'd fear for your safety. But knowing how many bodies he has under his belt and not knowing how he went about executing them was what really unsettled you.

Maybe him explaining himself would be a form a closure. If you continued the way you were now you would lose your mind at the many thoughts running rampant through your brain.

So, you unblocked his number and decided you were ready for answers. No beating around the bush, just flat out transparency. 

Erik looked a mess when he opened the door to see you for the first time in what felt so long to him. He looked exhausted and his dreads were pointing in every direction. You felt bad, not knowing what your absence did to him.

He stepped aside anyway and allowed you in.

There were different bottles of alcohol scattered around every surface, a fresh blunt resting in an ash tray on the coffee table and his usually stocked kitchen appeared much more empty than normal.

You felt bad for him, honestly. You knew how much you meant to him, but you just needed that time to process everything. It wouldn't hurt to have at least sent him a message, but why would a killer be so hurt about you leaving.

Pushing those thoughts away, you took a seat on the black leather sofa and he sat opposite to you, staring at you with sad eyes.

"So I leave and this is what you do? Drink yourself into oblivion?"

"I thought you was gone for good."

You sighed, "I would never leave you, E."

"But you did." He scoffed.

"I just needed some time... Time to think and process everything." You pulled the drawstrings of your hoodie, "Each scar on your body represents a life that was taken. What the hell was I suppose to do? Smile and be okay with it because it's you?"

"Nah, I wouldn't expect that from no one." Anyone who was a rational human being anyway.

"I'm not gonna pretend I'm okay with this Erik... I'm willing to almost look past it. It's gonna take some time, but imma try."

A small smirk appeared on his lips.

"I just need you to explain to me... Why? Why did you do it?"

"I had my reasons... Some was for military, others was niggas who thought they could disrespect... And uhh... I think the worst ones are innocent folks who got caught in the crossfire." He admitted. 

Your heart ached for the poor civilians whose lives were taken, but at least he acknowledged them.

You both sat in silence for a while, just taking in the moment of honesty. Sure you were not happy about the scars meaning it was a life that he taken from someone, but you suppose what might be barbaric and savage to you was only a job or a duty that someone else has to serve. Nothing is truly right, and nothing is truly wrong. Perception is key.

You placed a hand on his knee and looked him in the eyes, "I'll figure it out, I love you and care about you. I just need to think on this, okay? Just a bit more time."

He frowned, "You breaking up with me?"

This only made you chuckle, "You hadn't even asked me to be your girlfriend, Erik."

You could see him internally face palming.

"All I'm saying is give me some more time and space to think, okay? I don't want to be scared and I don't not want to know how to approach the situation with you." You sighed and pulled your hand back, "I don't want us to be walking on egg shells, I want full honesty and transparency, that's all."

Erik nodded his head, understanding that it was a lot to take in all at once anyway. He understood that you needed time to process what was going on and that week was just out of quick thinking, probably due to fear.

"I love you too." He stated, pecking your lips. "Don't take too long though."

Dammit, I did it again. *face-palms* It was suppose to be semi-happy, semi-dramatic, but I went and made it angst.

I think it's a good thing though, because idk how many people can morally ignore the fact that each one of his scars is a body above his belt. That's insane. I don't think I'd be compelled to run my fingers over each one after learning their true meaning lol.

Sunday morning, you dreaded it as a child, but now it was a lot more tolerable. It was the same thing every week; wake up at ten, use the bathroom, shower, brush your teeth, eat breakfast, get dressed into your Sunday best and head out to church to catch the twelve o'clock service. 

As a child your routine was fairly the same, except you had to wake up much earlier and attend all three services. Why? Because you're the pastors daughter. The only thing you genuinely enjoyed about church was the singing. You always had the ability to sing, but you were too young to join the choir. You loved the Lord with all your heart too, but you hated sitting down for hours listening to your father preach. He had a nice voice, but you could only listen to the same thing for so long. 

The memories of your mother scolding you for fidgeting too much or asking to leave early made a smile grace your face as you drove down the relatively and empty highway. 

It was warm out, and knowing that, the A/C would be blasting so you decided to wear a long sleeve cream coloured blouse that was tucked inside of a long black body con maxi skirt (appropriate enough for church) and black stilettos. You paired the outfit with gold accessories and light makeup.

One of the perks of being the pastors daughter included getting close parking, and you always took your spot on the right side of your father's white Lexus RX. Locking your car door, you made your way to the front doors being held by two young boys that you teach after the singing is completed. 

"Good afternoon, Miss (Y/N)." They both said in unison. 

"Good afternoon boys, how was your vacation?" They were away for two weeks, you remember how happy they were when they told you they'd be traveling out of the country for the first time.

"So fun!" The shorter one missing his two front teeth, Anthony, enthused.

"Yeah, we got to swim in the ocean!" Jacob matched his brother's excitement. 

"Oh really? That's so cool!" 

You allowed them to chat your ears off about their vacation to the Bahamas while they continued to hold the doors. Anthony was about to tell you about the shark he saw until your mother spotted you. 

"Hey, baby. How are you?" The familiar scent of Estée Lauder whiffed through your nose as she pulled you into a hug. 

"Hi Mom, I'm good." You waved to the boys as you walked with her towards the nave, "How's dad?" You greeted the church brothers and sisters who were setting up the equipment and rehearsing before the service started.

"The same, of course." She rolled her eyes and you chuckled.

"There's my star! Come here." Your father came down the stage and gave you a bear hug. 

"Hey, Dad." Your voice was muffled into his shoulder. You took the handkerchief out of his breast pocket and wiped his shiny forehead. "You're sweating." You said and placed it back into the pocket.

"It's a great service. Speaking of which, why did you stop coming to all three? We could really use your voice for all of em. Sister Eva is great, but you know how to get the crowd going."

You thanked him, and avoided answering the question truthfully. 

"(Y/n), let's get you set up." One of the technicians pulled you to the stage and gave you your usual equipment for singing. 

There were about ten minutes before the service was going to start so you quickly rehersed with the band and before you knew it people started filling into the space. Familiar members of the church gathered in, sliding into the seats and making room for others. You spotted a few of your church friends and gave them a little wave.

They would often tease you for being a good girl. The pastor's daughter usually got a bad rep. Them being the ones to do it all; sex, drugs, smoking, tattoos, etc. But you never found the need to do any of that. The only "rebellious" thing you've done was get your nose pierced. Your dad hated it (and he still does), but your mother was a lot more lenient. 

"Good afternoon everyone." You greeted the congregation with a smile, and they replied with a drowsy response. "I said good afternoon, everyone!" You had more enthusiasm in your voice this time, and they also did. "Much better. Now has God been good to you?"

"Yes!"

"And has he provided for you? Loved you unconditionally?"

"Yes!"

"He is great, ain't He?"

"Amen!" Cheers and applauds sounded the room.

"Yes, amen. Now I wanted to start off with an upbeat song. Let's get everyone up on your feet and clap your hands like this."

The congregation stood to their feet and followed your pace of claps. The band started playing their version of Kirk Franklin's, Looking For You. You allowed them to play the intro and then you and the choir joined in.

I've been down so long

I've been hurt for so long

There were times I thought I'd never see the break of day

It was hard for me to see your plan for me

And I tried to believe surely it won't last always

You enjoyed seeing everyone getting in tune with their souls through the music, parents were dancing with babies and children on their hips, little kids were jumping up and down. This was the best song to get everyone moving and ready to celebrate their love for the Lord. It almost caught you off guard when you noticed someone was still seated, it was hard to see him clearly because he was in the far back, but you knew that this was his first time coming to this church. He had a very distinct look, dreads, and a large frame. You thought maybe he was just one of those people who stopped by to hear a few words then leave, but he was dressed in his Sunday best, just like everyone else. He also looked like he had full intentions to stay.

You continued to sing your heart out, hyping the crowd up with reminders of why God is so good, and them replying amen. You danced and let the music flow through your body. Yup, this was the best thing about church.

Your voice was warm and welcoming, your energy was refreshing, your beauty was tranquilizing to him and he wanted to get to know you. He had the right intentions coming into the building, but seeing you lit a spark in him that he tried to suppress. 

The song came to an end, and he hadn't realized. The thunders of applauds and praises pulled him out of his trance, and he soon joined in. 

"Amen. You know what my favourite part about church is? The singing, not only because God blessed me with this voice, but because it touches my soul. Psalms 95:1 says 'Come, let us sing for joy to the LORD; let us shout aloud to the Rock of our salvation'." 

"Amen!"

"Glory be to God, and we lift our hands to you. We sing our praises to you! Every praise, is to you oh Lord." That was the cue for the band to get into the next song, Every Praise. You once again set the tempo for the sways and the congregation followed. 

Every praise is to our God

Every word of worship with one accord

Every praise every praise is to our God

Sing hallelujah to our God

Glory hallelujah is due our God

Every praise every praise is to our God

He decided to sit still, but tapped his feet to the beat of the song, his hands folded in his lap. He was so enamoured by you, that he hadn't noticed when a little girl rested her hands onto his knee. He looked down at the brown skinned baby, no older than two he assumed. She had two little puffs secured with bow clips, and a pink and white dress with matching shoes. She pushed herself off of his knee and smiled at him, her little hand waving to him. He smiled at her until she was pulled away.

"Sorry about that." A younger looking lady said, "My baby likes to meet everyone." She was a beautiful lady with dark skin, coily tresses fixed into a puff and pearly white teeth. 

"No problem." He simply replied with the same smile he gave the little girl. 

When she returned to her spot, which was only a seat away from him, he noticed that she wasn't with a man. He predicted that she was a young single mother, and he could tell she was somewhat stressed out. His training gave him the ability to read people with ease, and his past self had a knack for "fixing" stressed out women. He was so close to getting out of his seat and reverting back to his old ways, but that was why he was here in the first place so he decided to stay seated and listen to your voice.

"I have another verse for y'all. Ephesians 5:19, 'Speaking to one another with psalms, hymns, and songs from the Spirit. Sing and make music from your heart to the Lord'." You recited. "I have one more song before I let my father take over. This one always gets me emotional." The band once again started up with a softer melody. "Everyone just lift your hearts and voices as you sing with me."

The graceful rhythm of Healer flowed through the room and everyone calmed down, getting in tune with themselves and their saviour, you included.

You hold my every moment 

You calm my raging seas 

You walk with me through fireand heal all my disease 

You closed your eyes while singing, swaying to the beat. The choir handled majority of the song while you let it resonate in your heart. You could feel tears welling into your eyes.

Nothing is impossible for You

Nothing is impossible

Nothing is impossible for You

You hold my world in Your hands

He could feel the depth in your voice, the emotion wrapped around him, he was almost driven to tears. He had never seen anything so beautiful, so dedicated, so pure and loving. Your voice was more than enough proof for him. He was a sinner and he knew he would corrupt you, but you were like a lure, pulling him in.

"Amen!" Your voice called out, as the song came to a close. He was surprised that your voice sounded so normal, not a crack present. Had you not said anything, anyone would've been convinced that you were crying, but your voice had masked that very well. "Thank you everyone, thank you." Applauds filled the room, he was surprised to find himself clapping as well. You walked off the stage, your father giving you another hug just before you got to your seat.

"Amen indeed," He began. "My daughter everyone!" He clapped and the congregation joined in again. You smiled as your mother kissed your temple, stating how beautiful you sounded. It always felt good, not the applauds and recognition from everyone, but being able to use your talent to praise God and to be able to allow people to do the same whether they could sing or not.

Today's lesson was about forgiveness and acceptance. 

"Now I want y'all to think. And think real good." Your father eyed the crowd, "Are y'all holding a grudge against someone?"

Some folks shook their heads, others remained silent. He was one of them who remained silent.

"Why? Maybe they've wronged you, hurt you, lied on you, stole from you. But you know what, you know who doesn't hold a grudge... The Father. In fact, He loves you all so much that He sent His only son to die on the cross for all of our sins. Imagine that." 

He listened carefully to the pastors words, taking in everything like a sponge. You on the other hand had this speech given to you a thousand times, you could probably teach this lesson if you wanted to. Holding grudges was not natural to you, so you never did. You always forgave and forgot, no matter the circumstance. 

Usually you were sent off to teach the younger kids their own lesson, but another one of the members allowed you to take this Sunday off and took your place instead.

The lesson continued for an hour and church had finally started coming to it's end.

"I would like to close this off with a prayer before you all leave. Anyone who needs a special prayer is more than welcome to stay behind. Please join your hands together as we say this prayer."

He was hesitant to hold hands with any stranger, but an old lady (with a surprisingly strong grip) to his left and the single mother to his right held his hands and already had their heads bowed. He followed suit and listened to the prayer that the pastor had recited.

"I pray you all have a blessed week, and we'll see you again next Sunday."

You were required to stay behind, not that you minded, but you were apart of the church crew. Leaving so soon would seem inappropriate. 

A few people made their way down to the front to receive an extra prayer, he was going to leave, but he saw you standing off to the side waiting for anyone to come by. 

Of course he wasn't nervous to greet you, women were so easy when it came to him.

"Bye, Sister Mary. See you next Sunday." You waved to the older lady as she made her way out, smiling at him as he made his way over to you. 

He stood in front of you, towering over you.

"Hello." You greeted him. This was the same man you saw seated when you first opened the service. 

"Hey." He replied with a smirk.

"What's your name, stranger?"

"Erik."

"I'm (y/n), nice to meet you. I don't think I've ever seen you in this church before."

"Nah, I'm new. It's actually my first day here."

"Oh lovely, so I guess you're going to be joining us from now on?"

He was very hesitant to reply and you had already figured out he was one of the lost as our father would describe them. People trying to find God again after hardship. He did look quite rough on the edges, handsome though.

"That's alright, but I do hope you consider. Now what type of blessings are you in need of today?"

"I'm looking for peace." His voice was very gentle as he explained.

You held your hands out to Erik, "Aren't we all." You smiled at him as he placed his calloused hands into yours. This alone told you he's been through more than you could ever imagine. You began to pray for him, asking God to bring peace and security to his heart. 

Like your singing, there was so much passion and sincerity in every word you spoke. He found it strange that someone he'd never met before could actually lend out their time to wish him all the best through the form of prayer. It was odd, the feeling in his heart was warm. Not something he was use to.

"Erik?" He was staring so deeply at you, it was like he was in a trance. "Erik?" You called again. 

He hadn't realized when you stopped praying, "Oh shi- I mean shoot. Sorry." He let go of your hands as he apologized.

You gave him a sympathetic smile, "It's all good."

He was at a loss for words, all he could say was, "Thanks for this."

"Of course, I'm here every Sunday. I hope to see you again."

"Yeah."

Next Sunday rolled around and you were a lot more excited this time. You really hoped that Erik would be there. On the highway you exceeded the speed limit just a little bit to get to church faster. You parked your car and got into the church, this time no one was holding the door as you were a lot earlier. 

Everything followed suit as usual, you sing, your father preaches and closing prayer. You had spotted Erik while singing, this time he was standing up and clapping. It was a good start, he'd get to singing eventually.

This week he had asked you to pray for healing and restoration in his heart. Before leaving, you gave him a hug and you were quite surprised when your palm touched his back. You felt ridges, lot's of them. You wanted to ask him about them, but it would probably be rude. Maybe he had a skin condition.

The following Sunday was also the same, but this time he had asked you to pray for guidance. You knew he was lost, and you were more than happy to help. You didn't know, however, about the burden he was carrying, nor did you try to pry into that. After the prayer he thanked you.

Suddenly your mother and father came over to greet you both.

"Hey Mom, Dad. This is Erik."

"Lovely to meet you, Erik." Your mother shook his hand.

"Welcome to the church. You must be new." Your father also shook his hand.

"Yeah, it's his third time here." He nodded as you spoke for him.

"Glad to have a new member." He patted Erik on the shoulder. "(Y/n), are you coming over for dinner tonight?"

"Yes, I just gotta grab something at my place and I'll see you there."

"Alright, we're heading out now. Drive safe. Once again, nice to meet you Erik." Your parents waved to you both as they left the church.

You sighed, "I hate closing up this place, it's so eerie in the dark."

"For real?"

"Yup."

"The Lord's house?"

"Yes, Erik."

"How God suppose to give you bad vibes?"

"He doesn't, it's just my mind running rampant... Plus, this church is really old."

"Aight, I can stay and protect you just in case." He joked.

You rolled your eyes and agreed anyway. "I gotta do the basement first."

So he followed you down to where the bathrooms and meeting rooms were located.

"I guess I could give you a little t-" You turned around, but he wasn't there. "Erik?!" You called out. "Erik, come on this ain't funny." The light shut off and you were alone in the dark. You screamed when you felt a hand land on your shoulder. You slapped the hand away and the lights came back on revealing a laughing Erik. "So. Not. Funny."

"I'm sorry." He continued to laugh.

Two months had passed and this Sunday followed the same, but when closing prayer rolled around Erik had prayed for a date.

"What do you mean a date?" You giggled at his request. "I'm gonna need you to be more specific." 

"Exactly that, a date. With you."

You were taken aback by his statement, but then smiled. "What will this date consist of?"

"Anything you want."

One thing you learned about Erik with knowing so little about him was his bold and cocky demeanour.

"Alright... Hmm..." You thought of how you would play along with his request. "Oh Lord, I pray that Erik takes me somewhere nice, with good food and good music. I also pray that this may not turn out to be a bad experience, in your holy name, amen." 

He loved to see your laugh, "So that's a yes?"

"Yes."

Your parents had left early again and you were subject to Erik's pranks and duty of closing up. After locking the church, he walked you to your car as you entered your number into his phone.

"So I'll pick you up on Friday at six?" 

"Yeah, see you then Erik." He locked your door for you and strode off to his car as you drove away. 

Erik was really hoping that he wouldn't screw anything up. You could be his redemption and he truly felt it. Sure he'd only known you for such a short time, but something about your presence felt so promising to him. 

It was five p.m. and you just got out of the shower when you had called Erik.

"Ya know, you still haven't told me where you're taking me." 

"Don't worry about it, ma."

"But I don't know what to wear."

"Just dress good."

You frowned at the general answer, "That could mean anything. I have good pyjamas, good gym clothes, good church clothes."

You could hear him sigh on the other line, "We're going on a date. Wear something sexy then."

You blushed at his comment, "Wha- Fine."

"Just don't take forever, aight."

"Okay, Erik see you soon."

"Later, princess."

Before you could ask him about his pet name for you, the line went dead.

Your black Persian cat, Minnie, hopped onto your bed and meowed at you. Her name was quite ironic because her fur gave her a large appearance. 

"What's up, Minnie? You hungry?" 

She rolled onto her back and meowed again. 

"Alright, lemme just finish getting ready then I got you, okay." You rubbed her stomach, (luckily she doesn't mind that) and went into your closet looking for the perfect outfit.

Something sexy...

You never thought about dressing "sexy". You didn't have bad style, but you never wore anything to attract attention. Your outfits were mainly business casual or business dressy when you were out. At home, you settled for something comfy.

But remembered your sister taking you shopping when she set you up for all those blind dates. None of the men you met were intriguing in the slightest. They all had their quirks and nicks that were huge turn offs. You weren't stuck up, but you could not see yourself spending the next fifty years with them. Erik though, had something enticing about him. He made you curious.

You decided to go for blind date outfit number two. A high-low dress with a white polyester satin top and royal blue mesh bottoms, silver accessories, light makeup and white stilettos. You slipped into the dress, zipping it up and adjusted the bottom. 

You thought about what food you were going to order as you filled up Minnie's food bowl with wet food, salmon to be exact, her favourite. If he was one of those cheap men, he'd take you to McDonalds. You were told to be grateful in any case, so you would order a combo. But maybe you were lucky enough to be going on a date with someone who has a decent bank account. Maybe he'd take you to a restaurant where you could order pasta or a fancy fish. Maybe a hibachi grill! Those were always a ton of fun to go to. 

Though Erik and you have known each other for two months strictly because of church, you didn't know anything about him. Once again, he never failed to remind you of how mysterious he was. He could be a killer for all you know.

You stroked Minnie's back as she quickly ate her dinner. 

"Maybe I could order the same thing Mom and Dad made me the last time I was over there." They had made grilled steak and potatoes, it was delicious. Your mother was actually a queen on the grill, and your father tagged in with the perfect seasonings. You always ate good with them. While you daydreamed about consuming their cooking, your father's words replayed through your head. 

"I dunno, I feel like I've seen him before. Like he just seems so familiar."

"How so?"

"I'm not sure, the name... Also, when I touched his shoulder I felt these bumps, it reminded me of something, but I'm not so sure."

"Maybe it's a coincidence." 

"Maybe..."

The raps against your door brought you out of your thoughts and you went over to go open it. There Erik stood in a black semi casual suit and black Louis Vuitton loafers.

"Hey, Princess."

"Hey, Erik." You gave him a hug getting a whiff of a cologne that was very subtle, but you already knew it was very expensive. You recall smelling it in a high end store at the mall.

"You smell good." He said. What he was smelling was your body mist from Victoria's Secret, you got it on sale for five dollars.

"Thanks, I should be saying the same to you."

"You look sexy too."

"Ah thanks." You stopped yourself knowing where he was going.

"What, you ain't gonna say the same to me?"

"I mean, I guess you look alright." You teased.

He kissed his teeth and shook his head and you laughed. 

"Bye, Minnie. I'll be back later." You locked the door and latched arms with Erik as he guided you down the steps to his car. "Oh my gosh, this is your ride?" You exclaimed, charmed by the shiny black Corvette.  

"One of." He plainly stated, opening the passengers side for you.

"One of?!"

"Hop in." He ignored your question for clarification. You got in and he locked the door, making his way around to the driver's side. He wasted no time taking off into the night. The sky was shaded with a warm orange colour as the sun began to sink below the Oakland skyline. His music was a lot lower than you had originally expected.

You could faintly hear the tune and lyrics, it was a Biggie Smalls song that you've heard throughout high school. You hummed to the beat of the song until it completely stopped.

"Hey, it was low enough." You frowned at Erik. 

"Why don't you sing for me instead?" His focus was still on the road.

"Well, I usually like to have a beat playing."

"You don't do A Capella?" 

"Only when I'm at home."

"So you ain't tryna sing a lil something for me?" He turned to look at now that he was at a stop light.

"Only if I can get a beat."

"I don't beat box."

You rolled your eyes, "I wasn't asking you to do it. Do you have an aux cord?"

He laughed, "Aux cord?" 

"What's so funny about that?" You narrowed your eyes at him. 

"Just connect it to my bluetooth."

"Oh alright, Mr. Fancy." You held your hands up in a surrender. 

After setting it up, which was surprisingly really fast compared to your car, you chose to play another one of your favourite Kirk Franklin songs, I Smile. 

Today's a new day, but there is no sunshine

Nothing but clouds, and it's dark in my heart

And it feels like a cold night

Today's a new day, but where are my blue skies

Where is the love and the joy that you promised me?

Not even a minute through the song and this man had turned the radio off.

"Erik!" 

"You singing that gospel shit, it ain't even Sunday."

"I'm not a Sunday Christian, I practice it every day of my life."

He laughed, and began driving as the light changed to green. "You're the first."

"What do you mean?" 

"You know, I always thought this religious thing was bullshit."

"Excuse m-"

"Hold on, let me explain." He held his hand up, "You even admitted it just now. Y'all go to church every Sunday, belting your hearts out and praising God. But as soon as it's over, people go back to their sinful ways. Whether it be cheating, lying, stealing, ya get what I'm saying?"

It's true, it has definitely crossed your mind on multiple occasions, and that's why you said what you said. "I do."

"What's the point if you're just gonna go back to being a sinful person?"

"I guess it just gives them some type of security." You didn't exactly know how to answer his question, and you've asked your father the same thing many times, but even he could not come up with the perfect explanation. 

"Anyway, what else you got on your phone?" 

"Mainly just gospel, it really gets me through the day."

"You was just humming to Biggie. I'm sure you got something other than gospel, let me see." He held his palm out for you to place your phone in it. 

"You're driving, focus on the road."

"The light's gonna change, let me see it." He slowed to a stop.

"Fine." You placed the phone into his hands and scanned for songs other than gospel. His sudden laughter made you stare at him, "What's so funny?"

"Clean, clean, clean. All these songs got the little clean icon." He handed you your phone, "Aight, I'm firing you from DJ duty."

"Wooowwww." You rolled your eyes and folded your arms across your chest.

"I got you." He lifted his phone and scrolled through his list, you alerted him when the light turned green and he set his phone back down in the cup holder. "You got this one on ya phone."

T-Pain's, Bartender filled the car and you were a little surprised. You really thought he was gonna chose a song that was loaded with cursing and sexual innuendos. But you didn't have songs like that on your phone. Honestly, you lived for the early 2000s throwback songs and you felt your voice complimented T-Pain's as you sang along.

Erik handled the verses as you sand the pre-hook and the hook. The bass in his car was amazing, you felt as if you were at a live concert seated in front of the speakers. You continued to listen to his early 2000s playlist until he decided to change it up to more recent songs. 

"Please don't play those new artists."

"Artists? They ain't artists, they fuckin' trash. Disgraceful to even call themselves rappers." He scoffed.

"I'm glad you agree, but do you have to swear?"

"Fuck yeah." He set his phone back down and a song you were unfamiliar with filled the car, "Neighbor, Juicy J and Travis Scott." He told you. You knew Travis, his songs were pretty good.

You were bopping to the music, ignoring the little "Shut the fuck up" at the beginning. Erik was vibing to the song as well, bopping his head and doing little dances with his hands. You were enjoying the song until the chorus came. He was looking at you the whole time with a smirk.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck

Your mouth was ajar, watching him recite every single word. He bursted out laughing at your shocked expression. 

"Damn shorty, it ain't that serious." He turned the volume down, "You telling me you've never cussed?"

"No, never."

Your expressions changed, his mouth was now ajar this time. "Never?"

"Never."

"Say, sofa."

You stared at him suspiciously. "Sofa."

"Now say, king."

"King."

"Say it together real fast."

"Sofa k- Really?" You glared at him.

"I tried. Anyway, we're here." He hopped out and came around to the other side to get you.

"This place is beautiful, oh my gosh. I thought you needed to make reservations some months ahead to get in." You gawked at the super high ceiling with crystal chandeliers, the marble walls and floors, and the large gold fountain placed right in the centre. "How'd you do it?"

He simply shrugged.

"You're taking this very lightly. I mean, this is a lot for a first date."

"You don't like it?"

"No, no. I love it, it's just, a lot to take in and you're acting like this is normal."

"It is." He shrugged again.

"What?" You stared at him incredulously. 

A waiter arrived at the table, placing a basket of bread and fancy cheese platter on the table.

"Good evening, can I start you both off with some drinks?" 

"Lemme get your best bottle of Rosé. The whole thing."  

Erik hadn't even looked at the menu and you were searching through it quickly. The waiter had already gone off and you didn't have a chance state that you only wanted a glass of water.

"I don't drink." You told Erik.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't care to."

"You never had a little sip?"

"Nope, never. Just like swearing. Never done it, never will."

"Say sofa-"

"Be quiet." You cut him off and he chuckled.

"Ya know, Jesus turned water into wine. John 2:1-11. The bible ain't against drinking."

"So?"

"So, he wasn't afraid to have fun. We talking about God's son. That man had serious responsibility, but he still did that. You need to loosen up, girl. I ain't asking you to get drunk."

You sighed, and the waiter had returned with a bottle of the Rosé. He poured you a glass and asked if you both needed some time to order, but Erik had already placed his order and yours. 

"Wha- I don't even know what you just ordered." 

"You'll like it, I promise."

Goes to show how often he comes here, maybe with other women too.

"So this is the part where you tell me about yourself." You began.

"Well shit, what do you wanna know?"

"Well first of all, what in the world do you do?"

"I work for a Wakandan outreach centre in Oakland. Helping our people do better with the fucked up system."

"Oh that's pretty cool, it pays well?"

"Well if you're trying to ask how I can afford everything I got, I also work beside the King of Wakanda. His advisor to be exact. So I get my money like that."

You stared at him puzzled, "Huh?" 

He smirked, "I guess you can say I'm royalty. That dude I called King, he's my cousin."

You almost choked on the bread that you just took a bite out of, "WHAT?"

The white people turned around to look at the source of the sound, their noses scrunched up at your vulgar outburst as Erik laughed.

"You know Erik, lying lips are an abomination to the Lord. Proverbs 12:22." 

"Who said I was lying?"

The waiter had come back with two steaming plates that were covered by a cloche. As he raised the silver metal covering, steam smoked out from the sides revealing two plates of alligot and garlic roasted chicken sliced into perfect pieces with truffles and caviar. You've heard of alligot once on a YouTube video, but you hadn't planned on trying it.

You both thanked him as he left you two to finish off your meal.

"So, what do you do?" He used the knife to cut the chicken breast into a smaller piece before putting it into his mouth.

"Well, I'm a full time social worker at a high school and part time singer and youth teacher on Sunday's. But you already knew that." You said while scooping the cheesy potato onto your fork.

"Maybe you could come talk to some of the kids at the centre. Teach em a bit."

"I could, but I'd have to find somewhere in my schedule to fit it."

"We're always open and willing to get more people on our team. Just let me know."

"For sure." 

You both ate in relative silence, only because you were still staring at the rose coloured drink resting to the right side of your plate. Erik had already finished half of his glass. You told him, maybe you'd opt out because surely he can't drink and drive home, but he assured you his alcohol tolerance was very high. It was a little insipid how high it was a matter of fact.

"It won't kill you, just think of it as pink lemonade."

You narrowed your eyes as you brought the glass to your lips, allowing the liquid to enter your mouth.

"Swallow it."

And you did. It actually wasn't as bad as you expected it to be. 

"See, how was that?"

"Not bad." You actually really enjoyed the taste.

The rest of your night consisted of questions and answers, jokes, serious debates on religion, politics and what the hell was going on within the black community, internally and externally. You had downed three glasses of the Rosé without noticing. 

"So, would you date a white girl?" You asked him.

He didn't even spare a second to think, "Nah."

"Why not? Don't black men love them?"

"I mean, they aight. But I need someone who I can really connect with. Mentally, spiritually, emotionally and physically. No white girl can truly understand the struggle, I need me a lady to not only sympathize when I'm crying for one of my brothers murdered unjustly, but to feel exactly what I'm feeling."

"I say that too. Relating is super important in a relationship. There's no way I can be silent just because you don't want to hear about the things we deal with. I use to be friends with this white girl, back in 2016 when police brutality was at a high. She did not have a single care when I was speaking about it, she would find excuses for the police... She really tried to justify their actions. I was appalled."

Erik shook his head, "Damn. But that's to be expected. If it ain't affecting them, why should they give a fuck?" He rhetorically asked.

"I would then ask God, why. Why us? Why black people? Why do we carry the burden and the struggle."

Erik leaned in, intrigued by your question. "Did you find the answer?"

"It's all in the bible. A lot of people miss it, a lot. My father included and it's so sad."

Erik had already asked God the same question. He knew the answer.

"It's all right there, the verses, the scriptures. Everything. You should check out Romans 10:19."

Erik had already started siting the verse, "I will make you envious by those who are not a nation; I will make you angry by a nation that has no understanding." He shook his head, "When you know your true identity, you become unstoppable."

You stared at him in shock, "You know?"

"We're a lot alike, (y/n). Trust me, I've asked that question countless times." His grip on the neck of the glass was tight, "Not necessarily as a whole, but 'why me?' Why do I have to be the stereotype, why do I have to be the black parentless, foster-care kid, why couldn't I grow up like a normal child. Two parents, maybe some siblings. Hell, a dog too."

"What do you mean?"

"I lost both my parents at a young age, barely knew my mom. My dad was murdered by his own people..." You tried to look into his eyes, but they seemed so distant as he continued to explain the story.

"I'm so sorry, Erik."

"Nah, it's all good now. My life was shit, but like you sang back at church, that Kirk Franklin song."

"Looking for you?"

"Yeah, the beginning part."

"I'm glad my singing got to you." You smiled at him. You're not sure when it happened, but your hand had found his and your thumb rubbed over his knuckles. He lifted your hand up and pressed it against his lips.

"How you get drunk off of Rosé?" He shook his head with a judgemental look on his face.

"I'm not." You weren't totally drunk, just a bit.

The drive to his place was rather quick, you were already making it into his gated home. It was a little hard to make out what the place looked like in the dark, it was almost as if he made it incognito. Not a single light was on. As he unlocked the high tech door, a wave of cold air slapped your bare arms making you shiver. 

"Why does it feel like Antartica in here?" 

"It's just how I like it." He closed the door and put the lock back on.

"No way." You held your arms as you shivered, but he placed his very hot blazer over your shoulders. Okay, so now you understood why he kept his place so cold. The man generated heat like an oven. You were instantly warmed up.

"Lights on, main floor." He spoke to no one in particular, or so you thought until a robotic female voice recited his command and lights began turning on. 

"Whoa, is this one of those smart homes?"

"Kinda. It just got vibranium and Wakandan technology."

"Seriously?" 

"I did tell you the King is my cousin." He began walking into another room.

"Hold up!" You caught up to him. 

You were now in his kitchen that connected to his living room. His style was very modern and sleek. It was so clean that not a single spot of dust was visible to the naked eye. He had many African artworks and artifacts around the room and a gigantic map of the world with little red pushpins located in different spots. 

"Hey Erik?"

"Hmm?" He was taking a shot of something with a golden brown colour.

"What's up with this map?"

He swallowed the liquid and made his way over to you. "It's for every place I been."

"Cuz you were in the military right?"

"Yup."

Then the thought came to your head, "Hey, Erik?"

"Wassup?"

"Have you ever um..." Don't ask questions you don't want the answer to, "Actually, never mind."

"Aight." 

You sat down on his large sectional sofa and released your curls from your hair tie. It felt just as good as taking off your bra, but of course you couldn't do that at the moment. Then another thought came to you, but Erik had already seated himself beside you with a bottle of Hennessy in his hands, placing it down on the glass table. 

"More alcohol?" You've heard about Hennessy before, but you knew nothing about it.

"Yeah." He simply stated and turned on the TV.

"Can I get some?"

He looked at you funny, "Of what? That?" He pointed to the bottle.

"Yes."

"So you a drinker now?"

"It won't kill me." You restated what he said.

"Aight, look for a movie." He got up from the couch and went back into his kitchen to get you a glass.

You scrolled through the vast selection, you weren't sure what to watch. Anything but horror, you didn't want to invite anymore demons into the world. He came back before you could find anything.

"Just pick one." He said while filling your glass.

"There's too many to choose from. Why don't you do it?"

"Cuz, you're the guest and you won't like what I pick."

"How do you know what I like and don't like?"

"I got a pretty good understanding, ma. Now choose one."

You sighed and settled for one that looked decent, appropriate too.  You took a sip of the drink, your face scowling at the taste. "Oh my- You like this?"

"Mhm." He responded while taking a few more shots. You sucked it up and drank the rest, you didn't want to waste his booze anyway. 

By the thirty minute mark of the movie, your head found its way onto Erik's lap. The drink had sucker punched you, but you tried play it off. Erik was still unfazed, barely watching the movie. His attention was mainly on his phone.

A new sensation sparked your lower half, something you've briefly felt before, but suppressed it knowing exactly what it was. This time though, it came in all at once with a full force. It was an itch that needed to go away.  

You've heard about alcohol being an aphrodisiac before... Uh oh.

You compressed your thighs together relieving it for a few seconds, but it felt as though it intensified and Erik noticed you shifting. 

"You good?" He asked. His voice was so soft and enticing, calling you forward. You raised your head out of his lap and straddled him. "Whoa..."

"Erik..." Your voice came out very relaxed.

"Aye, you go-"

Your lips found their way onto his, stunning both of you in the process. You were kissing him so deeply without the intent of letting go. It was a sloppy kiss, truthfully, as you've never kissed another man before.

You had him on his back as you began undressing yourself down to only your matching pair of bra and panties.

"Baby girl, whatchu doing?"

"I'm tired of being the good girl, Erik. It's so boring." You whined to him.

Erik felt his dick twitch at the lust in your voice and eyes, he could feel his old self coming back quickly. He should've known better than to be drinking, but it was a rough week. 

You leaned in and met him with another kiss, this time he was the dominant one. You helped him out of his button up, your hands now coming in contact with the bumps that you felt back at church. Had you not been so wasted, you would've reacted, but that was the last thing on your mind. 

He was out of his pants before you knew it, and you were on your back. He kissed down your neck, making sure to leave love bites on you. He trailed all the way to your stomach, right down to the band of your blue lace panties. His fingers slid under the band yanking them further down till they were off completely. 

"Damn, ma." He ran his finger up and down your wet folds before inserting it.

"Uhh." You moaned at the intrusion. 

His tongue soon found it's way onto your clit as well. You moaned and thrashed as he continued to assault your womanhood. He made sure to hold you down as he ate you out. He was an expert, despite this being your first time, you could tell he was really skilled. He lifted your leg over his shoulder and stuck another finger into you. You hands found their way into his dreads and you gripped tightly, he hissed at your action.

"Ohhhh." You moaned aloud.

"You like this, mama?" 

"Nngh, yes!" 

The feeling in your core intensified until you could no longer hold it and you released without warning, a plethora of moans falling from your lips.

"Damn baby, you ain't warn me."

"Mmh, I'm sorry."

"Nah," He sat up. "Sorry ain't gonna cut it." 

He pulled off his boxers and climbed over top of your shaking frame. He took the tip of the penis and rubbed it along the outside of you, coating it in your wetness. You shivered at his touch.

He had one hand by your ear and the other on his member, guiding it into you. The stretch was unbelievable, your hands gripped his arms tightly. 

"Fuck, this pussy so tight." 

"Oh, unnghh."

"That's it, just a little more." He continued to slide into you, and you tried your best to ignore any pain you were feeling, but that was almost impossible. His gold chain that you hadn't noticed before dangled over your head, it had a ring attached to it.

He thrusted into you, not checking if you were alright. All you could feel was pain and little spurts of pleasure here and there.

"Mmh, oh. I-it's too much!" You groaned.

"I know you can take it, come on girl." 

He was definitely curing your itch, but that same feeling was welling into your core once again. You placed your hand on the lower half of his abdomen and begged for him not to go any deeper.

"Mhh-mmh. That's it, that's it." You continuously chanted as he continued thrusting. 

He pulled out and had you go on all fours, you were a shaking mess. He dived right back into you pumping at a steady pace. 

You cried out his name. "Erik, ohhhh fffff-" It was so overstimulating that you almost cursed. 

"Was that a bad word?" He spanked your ass.

"Ah! Noooo." You sighed.

"Come on, say it. I dare you."

"Mmh-mmh." You shook your head slightly.

He picked up the pace and your moans turned into screams as he brushed your cervix. Your toes curled tightly.

"Ahhhh, s-slow d-down unnghhh!" You could swear you were seeing stars as he hammered you into the sofa. 

"Ahhh shit." He sped up even faster. Your high was at it's peak now.

"Fuck!" You screamed out, not even realizing it, but a string of curse words followed. You couldn't stop yourself as you released onto his cock with a scream.

He pulled out and released onto your back as you collapse, blanked out without a care in the world.

The next morning, you felt something warm and wet on your shoulder.

"Minnie, stop. That tickles." You pushed the culprit away, but your hand retracted as soon as you felt human skin and kinky hair. You shot up and stared down at him. Regret instantly clouded your heart, and nausea filled your stomach. 

It wasn't a sinful dream... You had lost your virginity so a man you had barely known. Something you promised to keep to yourself until marriage.

"Get away from me." You pushed him away as tears streamed down your face. You scooted back so far and almost fell off of his king sized bed in the process.

"(Y/n), it's just me." 

"N-no, oh my gosh. Please tell me I was dreaming?" You held your head in your palms. You knew it was real, seeing that you were wearing one of his shirts, your curls were a hot mess, and you woke up in his bed. Not to mention the ache in between your legs.

"You good, ma?" 

"No, Erik! I'm not 'good'! I'm terrible." 

"Did I go too hard?" He asked without shame.

"That's not the issue, Erik! We had sex, right?"

"Yeah, it was great."

You sighed, collapsing your head into your lap. "I'm a sinner. I can't- I-"

"What's that suppose to mean?"

Your tears rolled off your cheeks landing onto the bed sheets, "You took my virginity, Erik."

"Oh shit..."

"I was saving it. Sex before marriage... Why would I do that? Ugh!"

" We were both drunk. It's not that serious, (y/n)." 

"Of course it is!" You snapped at him. "We barely even know each other... This is my first time seeing you outside of church."

He was silent as he watched your tears of regret fall.

"I gave in to one of the cardinal sins... God must be so disgusted with me." You sighed, "Hebrews 13:4, Marriage should be honored by all, and the marriage bed kept pure, for God will judge the adulterer and all the sexually immoral."

"Hold up, you talking about lust, right?" He finally spoke up.

"Yeah." You answered with a sniffle. 

"Ain't you the one who told me about forgiveness. Redemption. All that shit." 

You looked at him a little puzzled.

"You really think you a bad person for fucking?" He took off his shirt, "You know what these bumps are? They each represent a kill."

Your eyes widened as your hand covered your mouth.

"Thou shalt not kill, one of the Ten Commandments. I disobeyed that one, each scar on my body reminding me. You know what's the sad thing about it, I don't regret any of them. I did what I had to do, that's the path I chose." He scoffed, "You worried about sex, I got blood on my hands, baby. Shit, I don't even know if I can be saved."

You had to register a lot, it was all so overwhelming. You had given in to temptation and had sex with a man you only knew so much about, not to mention he's a killer... But then it hit you.

"W-wait... Don't tell me that you're K-Killmoger..."

"Surprise." He said unenthusiastically, his eyes had glossed over at some point, but you missed it. 

It felt as if the weight of the world came crashing down on your shoulders. You weren't sure if you should run away, leave or stay. 

Surprisingly, you found yourself cradling his head in your lap. You both remained silent and let the moment register.

"John 1:9, If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness." He said while your fingers ran against his scalp.

You decided not to sing this Sunday, as it would feel hypocritical to be teaching these people what it means to be a good Christian through songs. Throughout the service, you hadn't seen Erik. He was kind enough to drop you back at your place the night before, but he took off in a hurry.

"(Y/n), you're not praying for anyone today?" Your father asked as he waved a few sisters goodbye.

"Actually, I needed a prayer for myself. And also with Erik in mind."

"Sure, what about?"

"Forgiveness of sin and restoration."

The look he gave you was quizzical, "Alright."

As your father prayed, Erik watched from a distance. He could feel your father's words in his heart without actually hearing anything. He knew that he was no good for you. You were just a church girl doing the right thing, while he was still trying to figure it out.

He was your temptation and you were his.

Okay, so this has been my longest one-shot with 9000+. I hope you enjoyed!