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myfriendscallmecoelophysis · 4 years

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The Fears of a Goddess

Part 1 of my Dark! Ianite fic

Part 2

Enjoy and as always

Find me on Ao3:

Selenejessabelle12626 for the tame stuff

Lady-Spieroles for the less tame stuff ;)

It wasn’t often that Tom felt like warnings of any sort were worth heeding. People often overreacted. ‘Don’t touch that’ ‘Don’t climb that high’ ‘Don’t challenge him to a fight’ ‘Don’t taste that weird green goo’, blah blah blah, always so boring. No one was willing to have any fun. But the warnings he did at least give a bit of consideration to were the ones from his God. Dianite may not really care about Tom but as long as Tom was useful, Dianite had to have some sort of interest in his continued survival. So when the book was left for him saying that Ianite may not be all that she appeared, Tom actually took it into consideration.

But really? Ianite? Jordan’s dodgy eyed, bubbly Goddess? Evil? Sure the Ianite of Ruxomar had caused the taint and destroyed the entire city of Dagrun with it and all that but she’d been chill whenever Tom had spoken with her. He didn’t admittedly have much experience with the Ianite they’d saved in their first lives either, really just causing a bit of mischief whenever she showed her face. Though there was that one time she took the sword Dianite had given him and killed him with it.

Eh, he’d go with Dianite for now. No harm in pretending to join her side and just using it as an excuse to spend more time with Jordan.

It was when Mianite warned them, all of them, of some sort of evil shadowy force that could be in any one of them that Tom gave Dianite’s worries a second thought. Maybe this was what he’d been thinking of? Maybe this evil had gotten it’s grip into Ianite? Should he say something to Jordan?

“Karl?”

“Yeah?”

“Did Mianite, say anything else to you about this evil thing that he didn’t tell us?”

They were sailing together back to their islands after the Mianite Games. Sparklez had flown ahead already, he stashed his elytra in that stupid ender chest and brought it along instead of leaving it behind like they’d been told.

Karl took a moment to reply, a moment too long for his words to be anything but suspicious. “No. Just what he told all of us.”

“Nothing about, Ianite or anything?”

“What do you mean? Why would he talk to me in secret about Jordan’s God?”

Tom frowned, turning back towards the front of the boat. “Nevermind, forget I said anything.”

His suspicions don’t fade, but he hid them well enough, he’d always been a pretty good liar when it actually mattered. Dianite had said nothing to him since before the Trial. He’d said he needed time to figure out what was happening and while Tom did feel a bit abandoned, he didn’t fault the God. He knew his own sister better than Tom did, he would know if she was acting off. So he played his part, gave Ianite the pearls she wanted, knelt before her and pretended to swear his loyalty despite Jordan frowning down at him from her side. For the foreseeable future he wouldn’t destroy anything or kill anyone or cause unnecessary chaos. There were greater things at work that he didn’t know about. Dianite would come back when it was time.

“Jordan, you trust me don’t you?” Ianite asked him out of the blue one day. She was sitting on the stairs in his tower, watching as he rummaged and crafted. Hunter, the stray cat that Ianite had adopted (despite it living in Jordan’s home), sat in her lap purring as she stroked it.

“Of course.” Jordan said without looking up from what he was working on.

“I think my brothers are plotting against me.” He paused, pulling back the ingredients he’d been about to mix at his brewing stand.

He turned around to look at her and asked “What do you mean?” confused by why she would say such a thing.

“They’ve stopped speaking to me. But I see them speaking to each other.” Jordan felt a twinge of pity for her, he knew what it felt like to be left out of conversations. Tom and Karl did it often enough, swapping secrets and inside jokes.

“I’m sure it’s nothing milady. They’re your little brothers, little brothers do things like that sometimes. Or so I’ve been told.”

“I’m scared of what they may be planning.” At her admittance, the pity he felt doubled. He set aside the potion and moved to sit on the stairs next to her. “I’m scared of what is to come if they come into their powers.”

He’d told her of the theory he and Tom shared. That they’d come backwards in time to a point where the Gods they would know as powerful had not yet grown into their abilities. She’d asked him endless questions about that life and he’d told her, once she’d shared that she knew some of it already. The Ianite of Ruxomar had told him what would happen when she scattered her quintessence, that she would become one with all her lives across all dimensions and realities. It made sense that this version of her might have glimpses of those other lives. She knew that for Dianite to be defeated in the far-flung future, his evil ended once and for all, she would have to rot in a crystal prison cell for millenia unknown. He would steal her heart and hide it away, leaving her weak and broken, a shell of a Goddess and of herself. It was no wonder that she was worried.

In all likelihood Dianite had already gotten a similar story from Tom about the future where they’d come from and knowing Tom, it did not paint Ianite or Mianite in a very kind way.

“It’ll be alright. The fact that I’m here is proof that it will be. I saved you then and I will do it again. Over and over as many times as I must, in this dimension and all others. You have my word. I swear it to you as your Champion.” He was not often one for physical contact, but hazarded a chance to take one of her hands in his, giving what he hoped was a comforting squeeze.

She smiled and squeezed it back. “I know you will. You always have. I see the other mortals and I wonder how I got so lucky to have a Champion as loyal as you. I’ve seen into those other worlds, in my dreams. I’ve seen the world where she loved you, where I loved you, well not you but another you.” “Spark. He was called Spark.” he chuckled, explaining to save her the confusion.

“But in that world I saw what became of her after he was gone. The destruction she caused without him by her side. But then she met you, this you. You did so much for her, for us. The others were so cruel to you but you only did what you felt was best and best for her.” He looked away from her then, but did not let go of her hand. He was ashamed of some of the choices he’d made in the name of balance. Cruel, foolish, selfish choices justified by claiming they were for the greater good. “And I was wrong. She-” He swallowed, closing his eyes “-she died. Because I couldn’t help her. Because I wasn’t strong enough.”

“Jordan.” She sighed, looking to him with empathy in her eyes. “It’s not your fault. Such things are bigger than any one man. You did everything you could to help her and keep her safe and happy until it was her time and still even after. But there was nothing more you could have done. It is the nature of fate. We all have our destinies to face. Be they discorporating or spending a thousand years in chains. There is nothing we can do to change them.”

He knew she was right, that they had to simply accept what was to come. He and Tom had discussed it soon after coming to the understanding that they were in the past. They could not tamper too much. Who knew what might happen if they accidentally changed the timeline? But now Jordan was realizing something.

When he arrived on that Island of ‘Mianite’ where Tom and Tucker had decided to create their land, Mianite and Dianite both had been alive and well. Ianite had been the one languishing in a prison at Dianite’s hand, her heart stolen and hidden away. Ianite’s followers had been the ones to die under Furia’s attacks. Ianite’s temple and holy city had been what had burned. Ianite was the one who’d been neglected and forgotten by the brother that was supposed to be the ‘Good Guy’. How in any way was it considered balanced for the Goddess of Balance to undergo such trauma while her brothers went about their lives with leisure? And even in Ruxomar, it had been Ianite who’d sacrificed herself to return the balance to the realm after Mianite and Dianite had sent it into flux. Why was she the one who must always suffer?

“But what if,” Jordan said slowly, the words already tasting treasonous on his tongue, “we changed yours?”

When she was a young girl, Ianite had a dream of a crystal castle in the sky. She dreamed of the castle often, of its beautiful impenetrable walls and decoratively barred windows. To a girl it seemed enormous, an endless maze of hallways and corridors. But try as she might, she could never find the door. As she got older the castle in her dreams grew smaller and smaller until it began to feel not like a palace, but a prison. Burning shackles began appearing on her wrists each night, searing and branding scars upon her skin as she struggled to escape. What had once been a dream became a recurring nightmare.

Mother, despite having never heard Ianite’s dreams, told her bedtime stories of a woman who was locked away in a crystal tower, awaiting rescue from a hero. He would come and it was with only his help that she would come into her own and reach her truest potential. It didn’t take long for Ianite to put the pieces together. This was not a fairy tale, but one of Mother’s visions. It would be her fate to see that dungeon and it was only by surviving that she would grow to become the Goddess she was destined to be.

From that moment on Ianite vowed that she would subvert her fate. She would never lay eyes on that place, not if she had anything to say about it. She may not have access to the fullest extent of her powers but she was still a fledgling Goddess. She would fight tooth and nail to reach the potential that was promised to her, with or without the hero.

Her own visions began after Mother was gone. They were not prophetic, not like Mother’s had been. It took Ianite some time to realize that she was seeing glimpses into other realities. She was always herself, that much she knew, but in every reality things changed. In some she was a Goddess, in others a human, in yet others still she was neither. One of these visions was different from all the others, so much so she was not sure it was the same thing at all.

She was in a cavern lit only by scant torchlight. Before her was a hooded figure, sat at a writing desk. She heard the scratching of a quill on parchment then the tap of the quill being set aside. “I wondered when I might see you.” A man’s voice greeted. He stood and stepped away from the desk, turning to face her. His face was shrouded in darkness in the depth of the hood but still she felt as though she could not break his gaze. “I’m so pleased that you have begun to come into your powers, my daughter.”

“Father?” She’d never known her father. Mother had never spoken of him aside from passing references twisted within her prophecies. She did know enough to know he was powerful, far stronger than she or her brothers. Mother had claimed it was their destiny to defeat him and rid his darkness from the world but only after they reached their fullest potential and strength. A task which could not be accomplished without the help of a mortal hero. Something Ianite was trying to avoid, seeing as it required her to be imprisoned for Gods knew how long.

“You are unhappy with your destiny.” He stated. She said nothing, frightened into silence. She could feel the sheer force of power that radiated from him, dark and roiling like a deep turbulent sea. “No need to speak my child. I know what you seek. It’s why you have come to me. You, a daughter of creation, are scared of a lifetime of suffering and pain. Scared of relying upon another to free you from what would otherwise be an eternal prison.” he turned away, back towards the desk. She saw now that upon it lay a book bound in crimson leather, the ink within still shiny and fresh. “I’m not surprised by your fear, young one. Your Mother, while she possessed a great many qualities, tact was never one of them. But it is no matter. I am able to offer you what you wish. In fact, you could not have arrived at a more opportune time. I have just finished crafting the only spell you will require.”

Wariness filled Ianite, she’d paid attention well in her lessons despite working against her future. She knew that no magic, particularly magic this strong came without a price. If her feelings were correct, this price would be a costly one. But if this were to be her only option, what choice did she have? She watched as he closed the book then turned it so the spine rested upon the desk. He lifted a candle the color of the deep black void from its holder, tipping it so that wax dripped upon the fore edge and both covers, sealing it shut. He pressed a seal into the cooling wax then laid it back on the desk.

“But, I fear, you are not yet ready for it. A pity, truly.”

“I’m ready.” She’d found her voice but the words did not hold the conviction she had hoped, coming out wavering with nerves.

He didn’t even entertain the thought, scoffing in disappointment. “You are weak. You and your brothers both. I could kill you with a thought. But I will refrain, simply out of interest to see if one day you might be strong enough to tame my magic.” He turned back to her and raised a hand. “We will meet again one day my daughter, and perhaps then you shall impress me.” He flicked a finger and then she was waking up back in her bed.

She had a path now. A goal to strive towards. She would find that book and learn the spell. She would not allow her destiny to come to pass. No matter what it cost.

When the mortals arrived many many years later Ianite was just as surprised as her brothers. Her visions in the days leading up to their arrival had been filled with images of a man who changed little from reality to reality. In one he was her husband, in another her caretaker, her knight, her son, her servant, her confidant, many things but always close and always trusted beyond measure. When she opened her eyes in that temple, he was before her and suddenly she understood what the visions had been trying to show her. He was the hero from Mother’s prophecies. He was the one who was destined to save her from that crystal prison. He was not just her hero in that time but in all times, he was her Champion. Her one true follower.

She got to know him over the next weeks. He was clever, shy, funny, strong, quiet, patient, driven, level headed. She enjoyed simply speaking with him of everything and nothing. It was during one of their conversations that she learned of the life he’d lived before this one, of the world of far advanced magic and technology. It fascinated her to hear the details from a world she’d only seen glimpses of, but this led him to admit that that world had not been the first. That was when the theory he and the Zombie shared came to light. She understood then, he came from the future Mother had prophesied. A future where Ianite had been unable to accomplish her goals. They’d not yet figured out why they’d come back in time but it was then that Ianite’s plan became clear.

It was with his help that she would finally accomplish what she’d worked for almost her entire life. She’d felt her strength growing with each day she spent with him, with him at her side she would return to her Father’s temple and find the spell that would free her from her destiny once and for all.

She got her first peek of what potential her Champion had when the Zombie renounced Dianite. Jordan didn’t entertain even a scrap of belief that it was the truth, his cleverness turning calculating in a single moment. She felt his anger when she gave Syndicate a chance, saw the building fury in his eyes when she insinuated her faith may be placed in the newcomer. Yes, her Captain, while clearly a kind and good man at heart, had the potential to be the knight and warrior she needed him to be.

Her reassurances that his loyalty to her was not misplaced and that he would always be her favored champion were enough to calm his frustration with her but did nothing to temper his suspicions towards Syndicate. He stood at her side with his sword drawn as she formally accepted Dianite’s Fallen Champion, ice in his eyes. He was not happy about this, not at all. For what it was worth, she wasn’t either. It had been far too abrupt a shift to be anything but on purpose. Dianite had something in the works.

She’d heard nothing from either brother for weeks, since before the mortals had arrived. She was under no impression that they did not both have plans of their own. She doubted they had the conviction she did however. They had very little to avoid in their futures, perhaps Dianite may fear giving into his chaotic nature but Mianite had nothing to be concerned about. She was the only one of the three with such high stakes. Which was why she was the one who must be the strongest. If either of them were able to over power her they would put a stop to her plans. If she changed the future for herself it would most certainly change it for them as well. She had to contain and surpass them before they could do the same to her. She did not think they knew exactly what her goal was, did not know of the existence of Father’s spell, but she had no way to know for sure. It was the reason she’d accepted Syndicate’s fealty. Let Dianite think he had her fooled, a man who thought his actions were going to plan was a man who let his guard down.

She did learn another important lesson about her hero during this endeavor. Even in his anger, he remained far too good a man to willingly go against his friends or the other Gods. She had his loyalty but how far would that last if she asked him to take up arms against the others? No, if everything she’d heard of his past dealings with the other versions of herself was true, asking him outright to do anything of that nature would go against his sensibilities. She had to approach this a different way. Slowly, patiently, carefully she would get him more used to who she was in this time. She was not the scorned woman she was destined to become, nor was she the desperate pivot of balance in a world crumbling to ruin. She, this younger version of herself aiming to change the future, was the Goddess of all facets of Balance. She was a Goddess of Justice and of Vengeance. Justice for herself and the suffering she was fated to endure. Vengeance against the brother who would lock her in that cage and the brother who would do nothing while she faced millenia of torment. For in her Captain’s timeline, such a thing had already occurred. That was reason enough to get her revenge.

His loyalty to her would be the factor that led to her triumph. The lives he’d lived prior to this would be all she needed to convince him to see her side. Surely a loyal man such as him would not want to see her suffer. Surely he would not want to send her to that fate when he knew even more of what had happened than she herself currently did. The guilt he felt for ‘failing’ the last Ianite he had served would only aid her now. A man presented with a chance for penance would almost always seize it. She just had to get him to agree.

“But what if,” Jordan said slowly, tentatively, well aware that what he was saying was not what he should be suggesting , “we changed yours?”

“Jordan, what are you saying?” Ianite asked, pouring sweet and sickly innocence onto her voice. “We can’t change the future. It’s not right.”

“Neither was Dianite locking you in that prison for who even knows how long.” His voice was gaining certainty as he looked up from his hands and to her. “We have a chance to keep you from living through that. What if that was why I was sent back to this time? To prevent that from ever happening?”

“None of the others will allow it. My brothers want that future. They want a future where they are strong.” “But why do you have to suffer so they have the chance?” There is was, the spark of anger in his eyes when faced with injustice. She’d seen it for more mild matters before but it was exactly what she’d hoped to bring forth. Weeks of subtle manipulation and reinforcing her own views of balance were coming to fruition. “Who decided that you were the one who had to lose so that they could win?”

“It’s no one’s choice. It simply is. My Mother’s prophecy saw what must happen. The three of you heroes are to lead us to our fates and our truest strength, for my brothers it occurs now, for me it is once you return my heart to me.”

His eyes narrowed in determination and he squeezed her hand again, getting to his feet.

“Good thing I’ve never put much stake in prophecies.”

#Mianite #Mianite fanfiction #mianite is back yall #mianitian isles #syndicate #Captain Sparklez #ianite #dianite #dark!Ianite #my writing #part 1 #part 2 coming soon #words words words

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cancerianprincess · 6 years

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Birkin Bag (1)

Alright peeps! This started as a cute and corny imagine based off a line from this song (2:06), and evolved into an idea for a mini-series for Erik that no one asked for 🙃Heads up: it might start off a bit slow in this one but it picks up later. Feedback is always appreciated & I hope y’all enjoy it!

Summary: Erik finds out he might’ve rubbed off on his best friend a tad too much and that she’s really with the shits

Warning: Language, Mild Drug Use

~~~~

“I bought my bitch a Birkin Bag so she could hold my fucking strap..”

_______

Plopping down into the passenger seat of Erik’s car, you slammed the door behind you with all the attitude you could muster.

“I done told you about slamming my door like that, lil girl,” he uttered, skipping right over the formalities of a normal greeting. He didn’t even bother to look in your direction, keeping his attention on the unfinished backwood in his lap.

You simply stared at him, pausing momentarily at how much his warning mimicked the voice of somebody’s mama, waiting to see if he would provide any explanation about dragging you out your bed in the dead of night. When none came, you finally addressed the statement as he flicked a lighter to seal the blunt.

“Nigga, you woke me up out my sleep at damn near two in the morning, remember,” you snapped at him. “And now you wanna fuss at me for being grumpy when you was blowing my phone up just to have a damn session?”

Erik clutched at his imaginary pearls and feigned an expression of false hurt.

“Damn shawty, I come back from overseas after three weeks and it’s like that?” He shook his head dramatically as he sparked the weed and took the first inhale.

“That’s cold,” he exhaled. “A brother can’t get no kinda love around here.”

You rolled your eyes at his dramatics, while Erik took another hit and passed it off to you. Despite glaring at him through sleepy eyelids, you accepted the peace offering, figuring there was no point in turning down a free smoke since you were already awake now. He grinned when you did, displaying his gold canines in knowing his best friend like the back of his hand. Taking notice, you kissed your teeth skillfully so that the blunt wasn’t at risk from falling out your mouth.

“Whatever,” you started. “Don’t think one wood is gonna make up for disrupting my beauty rest.”

“Well I woulda been here sooner to kick it with you if them white ass crackers at the airport knew what they was doing. They the reason my connecting flight got delayed so if you wanna blame somebody, you can blame them.”

As Erik launched into the tale of his troublesome journey back home, you couldn’t help but feel amused by the fact that he had suffered in some form or another tonight just like you did. You also felt a tad bit sorry for him, but mostly amused. Initially, he scowled at you when the snickering began on your end, but eventually he joined you, his nagging turned to clownery as the haze of loud filled the atmosphere. The two of you joked on into the early hours of the morning, bopping to the radio and swapping details of the events in your lives that had taken place during the redeemed Wakandan’s trip back to his true origins.

“Oh yeah, speaking of that, I almost forgot about ya shit.”

Erik was right in the middle of recounting the heated argument he’d gotten into with one of the residents from the Merchant Tribe when an afterthought struck him. You threw his form a puzzled look as he reached his arm into the backseat, causing all kinds of commotion in the floor behind you.

When he re-emerged, in his hand was a white, narrow, rectangular box. Different markings of the Xhosa language covered the package in shiny metallic grey letters, and was bound together by a gold ribbon tied off in a bow. He tossed it into your lap as he extinguished the remnants of the burnt out blunt in a nearby ashtray.

“What’s this?” You eyed Erik suspiciously, careful to be on your guard in case it was another one of his tricks.

“That,” he began, “is so you can stop getting on my nerves every time my ass go out on on these relay missions.”

Any time Erik alerted you he was flying out to handle business on behalf of the Wakandan Outreach Center, you poked at him here and there about bringing something back for you, but only out of fun, not really expecting him to follow through on the requests. Now, your gaze shifted from him, over to the giftbox, and back to Erik once again, peering past the curtain of dreads and into his eyes to search them for any trace of legitimacy. He noticed the inspection, and smirked as he spoke up again.

“I mean if you don’t want it, I can always give it t-”

But the rest of his sentence was lost among the crunch of gift paper being torn apart, sending Erik’s head back in a howl of laughter at how fast your doubt had been flushed away. You made quick work of the box’s lid and decorative ribbon, showing your best friend he had another thing coming if he even dared to pass your present off to one of his dusty ass hoes.

Finally reaching the object inside the cardboard container, your red eyes grew wide when they fell on its contents. Laying across your lap, was a gorgeous new purse, accented with gold trimming along all its edges to match its chain. You lifted it from the box, discarding it near your feet, and ran your fingers over the sleek material, absorbing the coolness of the metallic jaguar pin. Only when your thumb grazed over it, did you notice the minor pulsations the purse gave off, beginning to glow dimly upon doing so.

“I saw it and thought about the time you lost your old one at the club that night on your birthday,” Erik explained, breaking the warm silence. “So I went back to pick it up in my free time, had my little cousin tweak it for me in her lab.”

You blinked at him a few times, processing what he said as an explanation for its mystic illumination, before an ear splitting grin spread across your face with a quickness.

“Yo, E, this is dope as fuck, like I legit don’t know what to say!”

He draped his arm over the back of your reclined seat and sat back in his own, clearly pleased with himself and his present-selecting abilities.

“Yeah, well you’re welcome. Even though I ain’t get no kinda thank you or nothing like that,” he shrugged.

You cut your eyes at his theatrics once again, thinking that for him to be such a ‘thugged out soldier from Oakland’, he sure was a big ass diva on the low. Still, that didn’t stop you from leaning over and hugging his neck to express your gratitude.

“Seriously though, Erik, thank you for this,” you muffled into his ear.

He flinched at the vibration of your voice, but quickly concealed it by engulfing you with his free arm, and closing the gap with a light squeeze at the small of your back. The gesture held a particular surge of warmth to it, conveying every single emotion you held for each other.

Something about the hug made you want it to never end, and if you hadn’t known any better, you could’ve sworn Erik felt the vibe too. You were aware of his lack of verbal expression concerning his feelings, even after he’d started his life down a new path it was a struggle for him. But you never pushed him on it. Not then, and not now. It had manifested into an unspoken rule as time went on, and as long as Erik had your back like you had his, you were perfectly content with it staying that way.

It could’ve just been an after-effect of the weed in your system, but each passing second was spent basking in the hold, discreetly taking in his scent and committing his hold to memory. It was odd that Erik let the contact go this long, but if he was okay with this level of vulnerability, even for a limited amount of time, you refused to deny him of it.

“Wait,” he cut into the moment. “You thought I did this for you?”

This caused you to draw back partially, enough to assess his face quizzically but still remaining in the embrace. One of your eyebrows shot up expectantly, prompting Erik to go on with his interjection.

He continued on in an amused tone. “Oh nah, see, I said I thought about you when I saw it. That don’t mean I necessarily bought it specifically for you.”

The smile you’d been wearing dropped into a flat line.

“What?” He questioned, trying to act innocent. “It’s true. I figured if I got Shuri to add a Vibranium lining to it, I’d have a better hiding spot for my strap, y’know?”

You tore away from his hold and merely retreated to your on seat, regarding him as best you could while attempting to maintain your composure.

Erik kept going playfully like you weren’t on the verge of smacking his block-headed ass.

“Y’know...because Vibranium doesn’t set off metal detectors…and guns are made of metal...”

That sentence had been the last straw, for you indeed, smacked him upside the noggin, and proceeded to go off on his block-headed ass.

“Nigga, don’t you think I know that witcho’ ain’t-shit-ass!?”

“Ain’t nobody ‘bout to carry your raggedy ass gun around like some slave!”

“Had me all excited for nothing, got me sitting here thinking you cared about a bitch!”

“YO ASS DON’T CARE ABOUT ME-”

You threw blows at him half-heartedly every couple syllables, sending Erik into a fit of laughter so great that he was too preoccupied to even fight you off. At first you slumped down in the seat, finally giving up on the assault and resorting to pouting, lip poked out and arms folded. It didn’t last long, though, because eventually the outburst became contagious, causing both of you to cackle like two high ass hyenas as the sun gingerly crept over the horizon.

That was one aspect of you and Erik’s friendship you valued the most: being able to kid around all the time but still realizing where your loyalties lied at the end of the day. Other than extremely rare occasions, it was how the pair of you exhibited affection, rather than having the typical sappy exchanges. You both knew that majority of the words thrown amongst you meant nothing, letting deeds truly define the bond you held.

And actions would soon be the true test of that commitment, starting the day you learned that Erik had been kidnapped.

|Part Two|

~Taglist~

@iamrheaspeaks @princesskillmonger @eriknutinthispoosy @wheredidallthedreamersgo @thotyana-in-this-hoe @sonofnjobu

(This is just to mention my usual peeps plus others but if you want to be added/removed just let me know!)

#erik killmonger #mini series #birkin bag #black panther #black panther imagines #erik stevens #u guessed it #erik killmonger x reader

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