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#yeah i may as well try to revamp this fuckin thing
hoarder-of-boys · 2 years
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ooouuuououuoououuuuug i forgot this blog existed i havent touched this thing in like. a solid two years lmfao, kinda wondering if i should remake ive been wanting to get back into self shipping anyhow, ive been feeling pretty energized as of late
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snarkwriteswrasslin · 4 years
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FFT: love on the rocks; baron corbin
Notes:
This was sent to me by @andie01​ on my main’s asks and I had to put it here. If I ever do anything with this concept, I’ll probably massively revamp the OC. But for now, here it is.
Summary:
Kittie just needed a few drinks to get past her ending relationship with Ethan. And attempt to avoid surfacing feelings for Baron. Which wind up coming out anyway, thanks to Baron, showing up.
Pairing:
Baron Corbin x OFC, Kittie
Warnings:
Alcohol tw - tipsy oc.
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Kittie sat at the bar, a finger trailing around the rim of her glass of Jack and Coke. Five more sat in front of her, the beginnings of a pyramid. Her eyes darted to the door of the bar and she grumbled when the person walking through wasn’t who she was expecting, but Baron Corbin instead.
“Just fucking great. Pretty sure he’ll have some remark to say about Ethan standing me up yet again. Just exactly what I needed to hear tonight.”
As if on cue, she felt a finger tapping her shoulder.
“Go away, Corbin. Seat’s taken.”
“See, now, I’m hurt. Not even gonna attempt talkin to me?” - somehow, Kittie didn’t even have to be looking at the giant of a man to know he was probably giving that pouty smirk of his. … the one that secretly gets to me even if I’d rather die than admit anything… Sighing at the thought, Kittie turned around and her eyes met his just as she raised her hand to wipe at her eyes when she felt the first tear trickle down.
God, the last thing I need right now is for Baron Corbin to see me crying over Ethan Carter III. I’d never live it down. Ever. He seems to enjoy pointing out just how wrong for me Ethan is.
Baron bit his lip just to keep from growling in anger. If she was crying it wasn’t hard to guess why and just that thought had him wanting to storm the hotel and find Ethan.
… or get her outta here… get her all alone and finally just fucking talk to her… talking to her seems to be so much easier when she’s drunk and all those walls and all that conditioning and the whole ‘better than you’ thing are gone… but neither thing was a thing he’d come in here to do. He’d honestly just come in to have a drink because he was on edge and all worked up.
And naturally, it was all because of Kittie.
All she had to do lately was walk into a room and he felt himself tensing and oh so painfully aware of her.
“Jack and Coke.  On the rocks.” Baron called out to a bartender.
Kittie eyed him suspiciously and Baron rolled his eyes, moving to stand closer so he could be heard over the stupid music someone was playing in back.
“Gonna try to get me e-even more d-drunk?”
“For your information, it’s for me. I came here to drink.” Baron eyed her and she fidgeted under his gaze. Breathing in and out, he finished, “And no, not cos of you. Because I wanted to drink.”
Kittie swallowed hard, nodding and eventually, muttering an apology.
“I don’t know why I e-expected him to show up tonight.” Kittie shifted her eyes to the door of the bar, tapping her bare foot against the rail of  the stool she sat on.
Baron eyed her warily.
Something was different about her tonight. Instead of getting all worked up and tempermental she was just sort of.. Quiet.
Like she’d been thinking.
Like she was more than just a little upset.
It probably wasn’t a good idea, but Baron found himself moving closer to her.
Kittie stared up at him, reaching back behind her to grab her glass and she went to raise it to her lips, but Baron grabbed hold of her hand and guided it to his own instead, giving her a look as he did so.
“Careful, darlin.. These will put ya right on your ass.”
“I-I used t-to drink Jack and C-coke all the t-time, thank you.” Kittie mumbled it as she shook her head, adding that to the growing list of shit she’d changed about herself for Ethan because Ethan didn’t like it or something to that effect.
She’d given up all this shit for him and yet, she found herself thinking bitterly, he couldn’t be bothered to even attempt meeting her halfway.
“Right.” Baron chuckled, reaching out to steady her because she was constantly swaying and that alone told the tale. Looking down at her, he smirked and asked, “You gonna make it?”
“F-fuck you.” Kittie stammered, biting her lip as she stared up at Baron intently. She reached up before she could stop herself, toying with the collar on his leather jacket.  “S-see y-you’re f-finally done d-dressing like a c-corporate flunkie.”
Baron swore under his breath and glared at her. When she gave a shrug and a sort of giggle and it hit him that she was being a little brat, he leaned in a little closer.
Kittie mirrored the posturing and he smirked as he stared her down. Shrugging nonchalantly, he mused aloud, “Thought you liked that whole suit and tie shit.”
… which is why I’ve been wearing the damned vests and slacks and shit…
Kittie eyed him a few seconds, mulling over what he just said. She burst into laughter and when he gave her another one of those glares, she took a bigger sip of her drink, sitting it down.
“It d-didn’t suit y-you. T-this does.” she was threading her fingers in the collar of his jacket and he sucked in a breath as the gap between their bodies closed just a little more.
He’d die before admitting just how deep under his skin she was. But  yeah… Just thinking straight around her was a goddamn exercise in self control.
He’d been drawn to her since she and Ethan signed to the company. Maybe that’s why he spent a lot of time being such a dick.
Girls like her didn’t go for the guys with rough edges like him.
They went for prissy shitheads like Carter, apparently.
The guy had somehow even gotten Baron’s friend Alexa under his spell lately and just that thought had his stomach churning.
If Kittie had half a clue as to where her perfect man was tonight.. He pushed that down. He  suspected that Alexa and Ethan may well be hooking up, because they’d been flirting nonstop all week.
If his suspicions were right..
“Everything okay?” Baron asked, staring her down intently.
Kittie’s brow quirked as she stared into dark brown eyes and swayed a little, leaning forward before she could stop herself.
All she kept seeing was Ethan and Alexa, flirting right in front of her in catering earlier.
… you should’ve just fucking ended it then.. Right in front of everyone…
That thought had her sighing again and shaking her head at herself. Baron’s hands went to her arms to steady her again and she leaned against him a little.
Baron tilted her chin up and Kittie swallowed hard, taking a deep breath. “S-shoulda just dumped him. I d-don’t k-know why I…” she tried to avert her gaze because this was not a conversation she wanted to be having with anyone, especially not Baron Corbin, the guy who took pleasure in being a total dick towards her…
But drunken words and sober truths.
It was apparently going to happen, whether she wanted it to or not.
“Ya didn’t cos you care about him. I dunno why, he’s a shitbag..” Baron answered, trailing off, not at all sure what to do about anything taking place at the moment.
Oh he knew what he wanted to do. But wanting to do a thing and it being the right thing to do, - the best thing to do, that was a totally different story. Because the best thing to do in this case would clearly be to leave.
Let her work through this on her own like he’d typically do with anyone else. Crying and hurt females weren’t… -and never had been, his strong suit.
… but you have a certain weak spot for this particular one… the thought plagued him no matter how much he tried to ignore it. The thought had him tensing even more, almost painfully aware of how tipsy she was and how close she was standing and the way it felt with her standing that way, body all pressed right up against him.
… but girls like her don’t go for the kinda guy I really am. And until her, I was totally fuckin fine with that.. Preferred it… he couldn’t help but begrudgingly have the thought. And that thought had him frowning in irritation at himself.
Kittie seemed to pick up on his irritation and she pried herself away, shaking her head, preparing to turn back around and leave Baron to his drinking that he claimed he came to do. She was obviously annoying him.
She figured sooner or later it would happen. It always did.
… which kind of sucks when lately all you find yourself able to think about is him and the way you feel…. Alive? Like your own person? Whenever he’s around and you’re fighting with him about one dumb shit thing or another… She had to admit it. Ethan wasn’t the warmest person for the most part.
And there was something warmer.. Downright hot, if she had to be honest, about the way she and Baron tended to push each other’s buttons. There was all this underlying tension there, the air littered with things not said. And even when they did push each other’s buttons, she found herself incapable of not… Touching the guy.
Despite her best efforts.
Like now, even though she knew he was beyond annoyed for whatever reason she still found herself inching closer.. Sliding her fingers over the leather jacket’s zip front. Staring up at him.
Just as she dropped her hand and was about to turn facing the front, Baron grabbed hold of her hand, eyeing her.
“Fuck it. I can’t just keep pretendin…”
“What? I was gonna  leave you alone.. You were getting that annoyed look.” Kittie bit her lip and Baron shook his head, grumbling as he leaned in real close, hands on either side of her body, pinning her back right against the bar’s edge. Those long legs were on either side of his body and he growled quietly. “Not annoyed, okay? Just stop talking.” her body was pressed completely against him and his hands moved over her thighs, sending a shiver he felt under his touch as it  passed through her body.
“Okay, sorry.. I just..”
His hand raised and tangled in her hair, resting on the back of her neck as he started to kiss her, groaning at the softness of her lips and the flavor of the gloss she was wearing. “You taste like cotton candy, you know that.” he muttered quietly, fingers tugging at her hair, pulling her mouth against his harder and deeper. His other hand squeezed her thigh, a smirk forming at the quiet whimper she let out at the touch.
It confirmed what he suspected. Carter just liked flaunting her around like arm candy. Beyond that, the douche probably ignored her.
This kiss had to.. Spark something. It had to stay in her mind like she wouldn’t stay out of his. It had to make her see that while he might not be her usual choice, he was an option and he was more than sick of sticking back, waiting for a good moment.
Waiting wasn’t his style and it never had been.
“ Lipgloss.” Kittie managed to mumble into the kiss as her fingers dug into the front of his jacket, gripping, pulling herself even closer to him. His hand crept up her skirt higher and he asked quietly, “Wanna get the hell out of here?”
“Depends.. Are you gonna be you or are you gonna send out that pesky evil clone of yours that’s been lingering way too fucking long already?”
“I’m back, baby girl. Tonight is all me.”
Kittie eyed him, but giggled into his mouth as he picked her up, starting to carry her out the door of the bar, right past Ethan, who cleared his throat.
“Oh yeah.. It’s over, Ethan.”
“You’ll regret it.”
Kittie looked from man to man and took a deep breath, shaking her head. “No, Ethan, I actually don’t think I will.”
“Think about what you’re doing!” Ethan called out, but Baron was already carrying her out the door, lingering long enough to give Ethan this cocky smirk and shrug as Kittie whined impatiently, “I wanna leave. C’mon, Baron..”
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eerythingisshaka · 5 years
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Will the Bell Ring? Pt. 6
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[Erik Killmonger x Black!OC]
Word Count:  6.7K
A/N:  I am now inspired to write again because a tweet said that Disney+ had hella issues on the date it dropped and 10 million people still stuck around to watch it.  I’m taking that same energy with me.
“Mara, I won’t ask you again.”  Erik says sternly.  Kimara looks around casually, glad that they are at least located in a public place...though he still doesn’t seem to care.
“MARA!”  Erik barks.
“Don’t cause a scene!  Damn, you have absolutely no common sense!”  She hisses as an elderly white couple looks away and walks faster down the path.  A breeze starts to pick up in the air, causing the treetops to dance in the distance.
“Really?  All I got is common sense when I hear you tryna pull a fast one on me.  And to bring someone I respect in on this, that’s fuckin low!”
Kimara adjusts her seating on the bench as the metal digs into you thigh meat.  “Respect??  Oh please, you were just knocking him on some petty shit last week!  And I didn’t mean to!  Ok?  I’m sorry!”
“For what?  I need specifics, lay out the entire situation for all the other nosy white folks walkin round the park today.  They wanna see someone act a fool, I’ll give it to them if you keep pussy footin around.”  Erik leans back on the bench, spreading his chest wide with pride as he stares her down.  She can’t stand him.
Kimara lets out a sigh, laying one hand on his inner thigh for extra focus.  “I am sorry...for putting you through so much pain and agony.  I know how much the relationship means to and I shouldn’t have put it in danger by getting myself involved without talking to you first.  And even then, I should’ve known better.  I couldn’t even enjoy it without thinking about you and what you would think.  So...never again.  I promise.”
Erik scratches his chin, bouncing his leg before dipping his head down to look at Kimara over his fake gold rimmed eyeglasses with matronly contempt.  “Long as you learnt never to watch Euphoria without me, we good.”
Kimara squeezes his leg, letting out a huge sigh of relief.  “Thank God.  You really bout to cut me over Fez and Rue huh?”
Erik sits up, clapping his hands together.  “They are the true OTP if I ever seen one.  They ain’t even gotta be intimate or whatever, just the fact that someone been through her journey and is now doing everything to help clean her up while the forces of small white town bullshit enable her is...poetry dawg.”  Erik leans back shaking his head in awe.
“Babe, you are sappier than a maple tree in the summertime.”  Kimara shakes her head, the loveliness of their conversation filling her head like a delicious fog she didn’t want to ever see the end of, but Erik’s lunch break was almost up.
Erik kisses her softly, making Kimara wipe the transfer of her gloss off his lips.  
“Uh uh!  Don’t worry bout all that baby.  If that shit makes your lips as good as I like, I could use some too.”
“You so stupid!”  Kimara cackles as they both get off their bench and walk side by side: his hand on her hip, her arms locked around his waist with one ear to his chest.
“This was nice.”  Erik says distantly, more to himself than to her.
Kimara cranes her face toward his.  “Yeah?”
He nods.  “Yeah, just to not think about any of the bullshit we’ve had to deal with, enjoy God’s creations out here in the gentrified park.  I feel like a damn retiree with stock and bonds and 401K real fat.”
Kimara settles in step with him again.  “But you have all those things…”
“But I ain’t retired!  White America don’t want a nigga to retire.  Swear everything would go belly up if Black folks could live off of the fruits meant for them.  They’d burn the whole damn thing down before that would happen.”
Kimara rubs his back to settle him.  “Peaceful thoughts, remember?”
Erik’s chest expands and caves.  “Aight.  But real life is literally around the corner, so as much as I would like to have you in my office, I got shit to take care of.”  Erik takes her chin and lifts her face up to his.  “My Mara, My Mara…”
“...I’ll never be farther.”  Kimara says with only slight embarrassment beause their little saying is so damn cute.  Erik used to do cute rhymes with her name around the quad whenever she got down on herself or he thought he had her on the ropes to giving in to him.  Rarely worked, but constantly appreciated.   “I gotta go get some extra stuff for our dinner party later this week, so hopefully I won’t be too long at the studio.  We got a new artist laying down a demo that should be pretty fire.”
Erik puts a fist to his mouth excitedly.  “Oh worm?  Finally my lady finna be the new M-M-M-Maybach Music!”
Kimara rolls her eyes.  “I’ll be more than that!  I got about two songs on there I’m getting writing credit for.  I may wind up on the radio and you don’t even know it.  But you’ll know them checks!”
Erik couldn’t smile harder if he had hooks in his mouth.  “Your passion got you going off!  Nothing wrong with it either, you deserve it.   It’s been a long time coming.”
“It has.  So, go on so I can make this deal happen.”
They locked fingers until distance forced them to break their grip.  Erik waves  off Kimara as she saunters up the path to the main road.  His chest swelled with pride over his lady, she’s always been one of a kind.  Her happiness is his happiness, without question.  As he walked away, across the exquisitely decorated post modern/art deco lobby, to the elevator to the 33rd floor to his office, a cloud of dread weighed back on him that only got better with the help of Alaina.  If she wasn’t his partner on this revamp project with Boeing, he’d be shitting himself on a regular.
Erik walks by a conference room, stopping short of turning the corner of the glass walls.  He opens the door and peeks inside to see his friend hunched over a laptop, jumping slightly in her seat as he came across the room towards her.
“Damn, Erik!  Why do your big ass feet step so lightly?  Almost gave me a heart attack!”  She breathed out a ragged sigh of relief.
Erik pulls out a chair to sit down, chuckling at her expense.  “My bad,  I just had to come in when I seen you slaving away in here.  Figured you could use a distraction.”
Alaina smooths her hair back in her bun, her nude colored mouth in a tight, closed smile.
“I WISH you were a distraction for me, but unfortunately this involves the both of us.  While you were on break, Asshole and Son recommend we draft a final proposal for the FAA to approve.”
Erik sat shocked.  “What? Fuck, I mean that’s fucking crazy but kind of exciting too, right?”
She wags her finger.  “Don’t forget we are only the field niggas round here.  It sounds like an honor but in the end I am sure little Leave it to Beaver will be taking all the credit his daddy can send his way in order to keep the big wigs in good graces within the family.”
Erik taps his fingers on the deep wooden table, thinking.  Would they really double cross him that far?  Bringing him in on a project to mentor the bosses son only to pull the rug up under him and make him look like player two?
“That’s so damn white, sounds right.”  Erik sighs in somewhat disbelief.
Alaina shrugs.  “Told you.  And until I hear it from him otherwise, that’s what I’m going to assume.”  Alaina sighs and stretches her shoulders before going back in on the keyboard.  
Erik furrows his brow.  “If that’s it, then why are you still working on it?  Don’t you wanna pack up and move on?  You were brought here special for this, your time is wasted the most.”
Alaina’s eyes cast a ‘nigga please’ gaze on Erik.  “Mr. Future Baby Fava, I think our time has been equally wasted.  But guess what isn’t cut for my time here?  My pay: which is double what I make at my primary while I’m here so…”  She slowly leans over to grab Erik’s wrist.  “...until I hear the fat white man sing, we’re gonna work on this project for as long as we can to milk that cow til it lays a golden goose egg and rolls the tortoise to the finish line!”
Erik scoffs.  Alaina’s antics are half the reason Erik can’t quite distance himself from her.  She has a liveliness that he’s kind of missed lately.  “Man, you a trip and a fifth.  But I like your style. Might as well get it done then.”
“Oh fuck that, I’m done for the day.”   Alaina crisply closes her laptop, packin it under her arm and grabbing her case with the other.
“Whatchu mean?  I thought you said-”
“I worked through my lunch, like a boss ass bitch does.  You gotta work yours off, so Imma leave you to it.  Call me if you bleeding out your ears from stress: no less than that.”
Erik rolls his eyes as he gets up and watches her walk away.  The woman is working his last good nerve on purpose, but he likes it.  The job isn’t as boring or predictable with her around.  Now he just has to show her who the superstar has been all this time.  If he works hard at this, it won’t be for these fat cats, it’s gonna be a bonafide competition and he ain’t scared to fight a girl.
At the studio, Kimara finishes up a session with a local up and coming artist named Delilah.  Sweet girl, comes across very introverted until a mic is in front of her.  Kimara appreciated her vibes and talent, baby girl is on trend so long as she stays cute she is bound to be noticed.  Kimara ends their session a little early, wishing her well when it was time to wrap.  
Kimara felt like the studio was her second home most of the time but today she had to get to her real home REAL quick to get dinner prepared.  Tonight is the double dinner date with T’Challa and his boo of the moment.  She kept trying to get ahold of Erik for help with ingredients but he kept leaving her on read.
Rick, the studio owner caught Kimara before she was able to get out the door.
“Hey Rick  I know I cut things early, but I don’t have a lot of time unfortunately.  I have dinner to take care of tonight with some friends that is so damn important, you wouldn’t believe.”
Rick smiles a large proud papa smile.  “Oh I won’t keep you, but this news might.  Remember Peter Gafflin?  Legendary alternative rock/country artist extraordinaire who really love you last time y’all were in the booth together.”
Kimara couldn’t forget that man from their last session.  She hadn’t been exalted for her talent that highly since Petey Pablo came in that one time and promised her name would be on a Freek A Leek remix.
“Yeah, what about him?” She asks.
Rick could not help his smile to save his life.  “He called me up earlier today, saying he is planning to go on the road soon.”
“Yeah, yeah.  That happens often when you drop a new album.”  Kimara says impatiently.
“Right.  So he was thinking that you would hopefully be available to join him for some shows on his North American leg of the tour.”
Kimara stood there like the Men In Black just wiped her memory.  “Are-are you serious?  When?  How?  What would I do??”
“He wants you to SING for him like you did that day, background vocals and he thought a duet portion would be nice too.  You know the song ‘Boys Aren’t Born on Tuesdays?’”
Kimara clutches her chest.  “Oh my God, that song is so rich.  And he wants ME  to sing it with him?”
“Uh huh!’  Rick slaps her arm in congratulations, but Kimara could barely feel anymore.  
“In front of thousands.  Across America...oh my God!”
Rick and Kimara hug excitedly, so much so that Rick has to wipe his eyes a little.  “So is that a yes?”
Kimara stopped cheering to finally think a little.  “I mean, I don’t know.  If this was any other time I would say yes, but...I have some obligation here.  I’m deep into trying to start a family and settle a little.”
Rick makes a face of pity.  “I understand, I know.  And I hope you do get that.  Just…”
“Just…”   Kimara parrots.
“...it’s Peter Gafflin.”
“It is Peter Gafflin.”  Kimara says disheartened.  She had been waiting for years to get something off the ground with a top tier artist, but the universe had a funny way of timing.
“Did I mention how much pay is?”  Rick muses.
--
Kimara fans herself with a newspaper as she watches the rolls baking in the oven.  She is so thankful to have gotten dessert from the bakery, because she was over it with cooking.  She checks her phone for the time:  ten minutes til 7.  Her notifications show nothing from Erik yet, though she texted him twice today reminding his to not forget them hosting T’Challa and his girl.  Twice, Erik texted that he’s got her, but that was five hours ago, now who knows what the hell he is up to.  It would be perfect to bring up her good news with him in front of T’Challa and his date, while he smiles up at her with a hand inconspicuous and possessively on her behind...
But the light and fluffy feelings for the evening were quickly dwindling.  Before she could send a last threatening text to convince him to bring his ass, the doorbell sounds at the last sentence.  Kimara curses out loud, grabbing her oven mitt to take out the rolls that are a perfect golden brown.  She dabs her brow with a spare dinner napkin before clopping her way to the door.
Opening it with a flourish, Kimara opens her arms in excitement.  
“You made it!”  She says with a cheery song.
T’Challa looks at her fondly, his mouth slowly curling into a smile.  Kimara warms up to seeing her friend at her doorway.
“I was going to say it has been too long, but time moves backward for you.  You look beautiful.”
Kimara places a hand on her hip for emphasis, trying to withhold her joy in his compliment in the worst way.  “Oh please, it hasn’t been that long.  You cleaned up good too.”
Kimara always enjoyed the way T’Challa dresses like royalty without even meaning too, choosing pieces that elongate his lean body, squaring his wide shoulders to create a proud presence.
T’Challa places a hand to his date’s lower back.  “Iman has been looking forward to this night all week.”
A smiling Iman holds out a bottle of Proseco.  “T  has told me so much about you and your husband.  You all seem to be a pretty tight family.”
Kimara takes the chilled bottle and leads them inside.  “Oh yes.  We have all known each other for so long, I can’t imagine not having known them.”  
Placing the bottle on the table, Kimara claps her hands anxiously.  “So I have prepared us a nice little salad and a pork...uh...pasta ”  Kimara’s mind goes blank trying to remember what it’s called, she had only Googled the recipe that day.  Tapping her foot, fidgeting, Kimara gives up.  “Hell, some type of pork and spaghetti with peppers and shit.  It’s got cheese too, it’s good.  LEGGO!”
T’Challa and Iman chuckle as they head to the dining room.  “Well whatever it is it smells great!  I know your man must be fat and happy living with you.”  Iman gushes, pulling out her chair to sit at the table.
Kimara shakes her head humbly as the unwraps the foil on the proseco.  “Lucky for me, he is pretty active at the same time so it sticks in the right places.  If only he could actually BE in the right places when we schedule things that way.  Oh shit, lemme find a cork opener.”  
Kimara rushes into the kitchen slamming drawer after drawer looking for the elusive corkscrew.  She slams the bottle down a little too hard in frustration and hears the vibration of her phone on the counter next to her.
“Do you need assistance, Kimara?”  T’Challa’s steady, gentle voice says behind her.  She turns to see his concerned face looking down at her, hands firmly planted behind him respectfully.  
Kimara waves her hand in frustration.  “Aht aht!  It’s fine, don’t leave Iman alone in there!”
“She is fine.  Are you?”  He asks quietly while opening a cabinet above the sink.  
Kimara opens her phone to look at her notification.  “Been better.  Rather not talk while I’m supposed to be entertaining you guys.”
“But-”
Kimara puts her phone down hard.  “RAGU!  It was a pork ragu!  With basil fettuccine, ugh!  DUH!”  Kimara turns to see T’Challa holding the corkscrew in his hand.  
T’Challa continues, ignoring her topic change.  “You should let me know if he isn’t being good to you.”
Kimara takes the corkscrew in one hand, bottle in the other trying to maintain her blood from boiling.  “No I don’t.  I would discuss that with my husband.”  
“And he is where?”  T’Challa asks calmly as Kimara walks past him and back to the table.
“God, what a help your beau is, we can finally have a much needed sip sip, eh?”  Kimara exclaims a little too happily, sitting at the table as she drills the corkscrew in.
T’Challa opens the glass serving dish to examine dinner.  “This smells very good, I will fix a plate for you, Iman.”
“No!  I should serve you, Mr. King!  Move your hand from that spoon.”  Iman gets up, swinging her hips happily from side to side, digging the serving spoon into the delicious mix of sauce, noodles, and meat.  
T’Challa gives a shy smile.  “I appreciate it greatly, thank you.”  
Kimara jerks the corkscrew out of the bottle too hard, knocking the handle against the table, causing T’Challa and Iman to look at her with shock.
“Pop goes the weasel, right?”  Kimara giggles as she pours a third of the bottle into her glass, half an inch from the brim.  She takes ahold of her glass, taking  a few hearty gulps.
“So!  Tell me how are things with you all, still in the honeymoon phase?”
Iman finishes off her plate, settling in to eat.  “Well,  I wouldn’t say that.  Me and T are still kinda getting to know each other still, so I think honeymoon phase is a little too soon to call,”  she says as she nervously scratches the back of her head as T’Challa just keeps on eating.
Kimara starts to feel warm, keeping mental note that the fucking must’ve halted between them.  “Well there’s no need to rush at all.  Relationships are so much damn work, it must be nice to cuddle up to a stranger every so often.”
Iman offers some wine to T’Challa who declines.  “Have things been going well at the studio?  Recording?”
“Oh yeah, more than recording actually.  Sure, I just wish that I had the gumption to pull the trigger on doing some of my own shit.  I got a lot of praise from artist and even the owner of the studio; I’ve known him a long time.  But when it all comes down to it I just wonder what’s the point.  That’s all gonna change soon though, no worries about me!”
Iman pouts with sympathy.  “What do you mean?!  You are a damn good looking lady and to have talent enough that people brag about, you gotta do something with it while you’re young and able!”
“I know I’m young and able.  Well, I’m trying to start a family while I’m still young and able too.”  Kimara mumbles, slumping in her chair.
“Oh!  You are?  Congratulations!  From what little I remember from the night I met T, he seemed like a handsome guy with a good head on him.  If he hadn’t brought us home, we may not be seeing each other now.”  Iman’s hand disappear under the table to presumably T’Challa’s thigh, who looks over at her with kind eyes.  “And that reminds me of your story.  So T here got you and your husband together.  What are the details on that?”
Kimara is two sips from the bottom of her glass.  “Ohhh, that’s not dinner conversation unfortunately.”
Iman makes eyes at her.  “Oooh, that scandalous huh?  We all adults here, but I understand.  Me and T weren’t very biblical our first night meeting so, hey.”
T’Challa wags a finger.  “It’s not that, don’t be crass.”
Iman tuts at him.  “I’m just being friendly, what’s the issue.”
“It’s a personal story.  It should wait until Erik is here at least.”  T’Challa offers.
Kimara puts her glass down, plate still empty or any dinner.  “I don’t wanna bring that nigga up here anymore tonight, aight?”
Iman freezes mid bite as T’Challa sits up in his chair.  “Kimara, please-”
“Uh uh!  I’m in my house, I say what I want, I won’t be talked down to.  Iman?”
Iman is still frozen.
T’Challa speaks up.  “I’m just saying-”
“I’m talking!  Iman?  My husband and I have been trying to have a baby for months now, fucking like rabbits and I have yet to get pregnant.  It’s gotten so I think he;s getting tired of fucking with me and now he is out ‘working late’.  Now, he loves me because we have been through a lot to get to the point of being a married couple and he has had to prove himself loyal to me after...a lot of bullshit.  But I ain’t got it in me to discuss play the Newlywed Game with you cuz hell if I know what my husband is up to anymore.”
T’Challa gets up from his chair abruptly, scraping the chair across the floor, stomping towards the kitchen.
Kimara starts to laugh out loud.  “Oh shit, I think he’s pissed!  Ohh, let me see what this is about…”
Iman sits up anxiously.  “Do you need help?”
“No, no!  I got him, he’s very reserved with his frustrations, so I can deal.”  Kimara stomps into the kitchen.  “Now what is up with you??”
T’Challa takes a towel off of a rack, folding it twice.  “Did you need to unload on her like that?”
Kimara leans on the counter.  “Sure, woman to woman.  She seems to appreciate it.”
T’Challa opens the oven door, a plume of smoke billows out.
“Fuck!  Oh noooo, my rolls!”  Kimara exclaims, running to a window to open and fan out the smoke.  
T’Challa puts the baking sheet to the sink.  “I was trying to tell you I smell smoke.”  He tossed the towel down making the sheet clang.
Kimara fans her face, coughing.  “Oh, shit.  I just forgot.”
“Mhm.  You forgot your head this evening that’s certain.”
“What do you mean by that, T??”  Kimara asks mockingly.
T’Challa glares at her.  “If things weren’t going good, we could’ve rescheduled.”
“It’s funny you think I plan for my life to fall apart, cuz that is how it works right?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“No, no one means to hurt my feelings or make me feel like shit until it happens.  You want me to be the perfect host.  Erik wants me to be a good wife and mother when I can’t even get a bun in the ov-”  Kimara stops short of the sentence.  T’Challa hangs onto silence waiting for her to finish.
“T’Challa, what if this is all a sign?  I burnt the rolls in the oven...because I can’t keep a bun in the oven?  Like pregnancy?  I can’t bake anything!!”  Kimara wails as she covers her mouth crying.  T’Challa goes over to her but stops short as Iman enters the kitchen.
“Hey, if everything is under control, I might head out.”
T’Challa looks back at Kimara then Iman.  “Well, let me call you a ride.”
“Already did.  Kimara, dinner really was good, I’m sorry to leave so soon.”
Kimara has her back turned, wiping her face before facing her.  “Thank you for coming.  You’re as nice as I heard.”
“I will walk you out then.”  T’Challa offers as they leave Kimara in the kitchen.  Her phone begins to ring, as she picks it up to find Erik’s name glowing on the screen.  All she can do is silence it, she was in no mood to talk, otherwise she might have to make a Lemonade album about it.  
Kimara goes back to her dining room table, sitting down to the bottle of wine.  T’Challa comes back in, closing the front door behind him.
“Eh, eh.  Put that down.  Eat something instead.”
Kimara groans as she swallows one more gulp from the bottle before getting it snatched from her hand.
“I’m not feeling your vibes T’Challa, honest.”  
“Vibes?  Do you hear yourself talking?”  
“Yeah I do.   That’s all I ever hear is my damn self.”
“You are not supposed to be drinking while planning a family, aren’t you?”  T’Challa asks softly, sitting next to her.
Kimara sighs deeply.  “I’ve done everything right.  All I’m supposed to do is carry, I can’t even get there.  God, I would kill for even a miscarriage, just to know that I didn’t completely fuck up my reproductive system!”
“STOP IT!”  T’Challa’s voice booms between them, reverberating off the walls.  Kimara sits upright, looking away from T’Challa’s face.  His energy calms as he leans a little further towards her.
“You do not deserve to beat yourself up like this.  Do you realize how far you’ve come in life from when I first met you to now?  There is no one as smart or witty or brilliant as you that I can also put faith in as a friend.”
Kimara fidgets with her fingers.  “Good thing Iman isn’t here to hear that.”
T’Challa sits back, taking a swallow of wine from the bottle himself.  “I won’t edit my statement, but she is a nice girl.”
“I still like Nakia better.”  Kimara says matter of factly.
T’Challa bristles at the name, looking into the distance.  “Yes, I guess she is my kryptonite, however too flighty.”
They sit in silence for a beat.
“What about that night?  What did it mean?”  Kimara asks.
T’Challa’s brow furrows.  “Which do you…”
“A few weeks ago?  My car?”  Kimara rubs her face roughly.  “Ughh, I hope it’s not the wine talking but I swear there was a moment that felt like...a thing.  Am I wrong?”
T’Challa does something he does not always do:  he begins to stutter.  It’s slow, without the skip, but a stutter nonetheless.
“I...Well...hmm,”  He says before his mouth motions wordlessly.
“...T?”  Kimara asks teasingly.  “It’s ok!”
He looks her in her eyes intensely, like she just cursed him out.  “Huh?”
Kimara shrugs.  “We didn’t do anything so it’s ok.  Don’t sweat.  That’s why I’m glad we are friends cuz I know nothing bad happens when you’re around.  No craziness, drama, you just bring me back down to earth with a good talk.  It was just a moment.  Gotta remember that.”  Kimara pats his knee and gets up.
“Wait, so were you thinking of me in a way that night?”  
Kimara sees a light flash across the curtains of her window.  “Well, look at this.  Daddy’s home.”  Kimara comes back to the table to pick up plates.  “T’Challa go ahead and have a good night.  You don’t wanna be here when I’m throwing dishes into the sink until Erik comes in and has the nerve to ask what the fuck is wrong with me.  When the whole nigga nerve of it all is that he would have the gall to think I’m wrong to begin with!”
T’Challa waves his hands heading for the door.  “I am already gone.”
--
The early morning sun is extra bright as erik drives himself and Kimara to see their regular fertility specialist Dr. Tracy.  
“I’m glad she was able to see us today.”  Erik says.
“Are you?”  Kimara asks while scrolling through her phone.
Erik scratches himself.  “Ion know, I just…”
“What?”
“I mean...if we do this it’s like cool, we finna get a baby off top-”
Kimara tuts at him.  “No!  She said that it still isn’t guaranteed.  We are good candidates but not to expect success right away.”
Erik lets out a groan.  “Right, right.  Can’t no shit come easy for me.”
Kimara looks at his profile as he drives, catching Erik looking out the corner of his eye.  “What you lookin at me like that for?”
Kimara crosses her arms.  “I’m just trying to figure out what to title your sob story in all of this.  ‘I do what I want and when it don’t go like I plan I pout?’  Or ‘Fuck everything and everyone, I’m going through it but don’t ask me what’s wrong?’”
“Damn Mara!  The fuck you gotta go there for?  The minute I try and share something with you, you bite my fucking head off!”
“Watch yourself cursing at me!  I ain’t in the mood for it, and I ain’t letting it fly like that today, ok?  I don’t need this much excitement before an appointment.”
“Then don’t go nuts on me like you some damn comedian, roasting my ass.  I’m here ain’t I?”
“Do you not wanna be?!”  Kimara shrieks.
Erik goes silent, turning on the click of his turn signal.  The tension in the car is sky high and although Erik doesn’t mind a fight, he knew not to act a fool in front of these doctors in this side of town.  
Kimara leads inside to check in with the receptionist.  As they sit in the lobby, Erik is glued to his phone the entire waiting period, fingers texting furiously.
“Why ain’t you holding my hand?”  Kimara asks.  “You always hold it while we wait.”
Erik looks over quickly and leans back offering out his hand.  “My bad.”  While the other continues to work double time on his screen.  
“Who is...Alan?”
Erik jerks his phone back.  “It’s not Alan.”
Kimara drops his hand.  “Than who is it?”
“Work.”  He says curtly, flipping to his Instagram instead.
“Is something wrong with the project you’re working on?  Is Alan the one helping you?”
“Yes and no.”  Erik says.
“Wait.  It is wrong and Alan isn’t helping?”
“It’s not Alan!”  Erik bellows before coughing to cover his outburst.
“Kimara?”  Dr. Tracy says brightly with a smile, waving them back.  Kimara smiles tightly back.
In her office, Dr. Tracy goes over the procedures and preparations for IVF, with all of the medical jargon, followed by some generous simplified explanation.  It all sounded complicated and expensive but Kimara was grateful to hear about everything that could make her miracle possible.
“And Erik, you can be an awesome support by making sure to watch your alcohol intake, exercise, eat healthy, and avoid any environmental pollutants.”
“I was bout to watch that Chernobyl show; is that off the table now?”  Erik asks.
“Erik, you ain’t got time for shit else, quit playing.”  Kimara says with a little bark in her voice.
Erik laughs in a menacing tone.  “Ok.”
Dr. Tracy looks between them nervously.  “...we also provide counseling to couples during the process, as it can be difficult.”
“I wouldn’t mind it, but he wouldn’t be able to make it.”  Kimara says.
“Oh you speak for me now?”
Kimara shrugs.  “If you ain’t there, how else can things go forward?”
Erik sputters in disbelief.  “I won’t be getting like this in front of the damn doctor.  Thanks, doc.  I got the prescription and shit, let’s go.”  Erik keeps talking under his breath as he leaves the office.  Kimara gets up to leave
“Is everything ok between you two?”  Dr. Tracy asks.
Kimara hesitates before saying it’s fine, nothing more than a couples spat.  Erik may have been right about needing to change doctors.  At least a new one wouldn’t know when things were wrong.  This would just look like a normal interaction to fresh eyes.
Back at their house, Erik is reading the instructions for her shots.
“Says this supposed to help in producing eggs for you.  Still gonna take a while though.”
Kimara sits silent watching her shows.
“Remember to mark down when you got your period last.  Supposed to start doing these on your next cycle.”
Silence.
Erik folds the instructions up, standing from the dining room table.  He comes up behind the couch, leaning next to Kimara’s ear.
“Nassau is this weekend, you know?”  SIlence.  “You picked us a real good spot to make our own magic down there.  I think we need it.”
“WE need a lot more than a trip to an island.  Erik, you still ain’t said sorry for a damn thing you said to me today.”
Erik scooches to one side of Kimara to face her.  “What should I apologize for?”
“Embarrassing me?  Not telling me about what’s going on with you and also not asking how things are with me?  Being secretive and mean to me?”  Kimara’s eyes begin to well up.  “You ain’t talked to me without walking off mad in so long, I don’t wanna get used to it Erik!  You didn’t used to do that!”  Erik hooks one leg followed by the other over the back of the couch to sit next to Kimara, holding her hands tight.
“It makes me think about before you left for that damn military out the blue.  You snapped on me back then too.  You tryna go somewhere else again?”
“Hell no!  That life is behind me, I got nothing but you and work to get through now.”
“So I’m a damn task?”  Kimara mopes.
“No!  Look:  I don’t mean to say anything to make you think you boring because you’re not.  You’re the most exciting thing in my life, and I love having you with me.  Every time I’m reminded you’re my wife, I’m thinking how we should be on our damn tenth wedding anniversary instead of third.  But I’m done and thankfully you’re not.”
“Then why are you doing me like this?”
“I-I don’t wanna force shit on you more than you can handle.  I got things happening at my job right now that could make you think the worst, but I promise it’s not.  And you don’t need that pressure right now.”
“Neither do you!”  
“I can handle it.  You focus on your dreams at the studio, and getting ready to host the biggest headed baby your womb will ever know.”
Kimara snorts thinking about this, looking down instinctively.  Erik takes one side of her face in his hand.
“I wanna be more open but I don’t wanna cost you anything too.  So until shit blows over, just know I got this.  Be patient with me, and I promise to be more patient too.”
Kimara pulls Erik to her for a longing kiss, rubbing his face for comfort.  She could feel he cares, but there was still so much gnawing in her mind, she just wasn’t ready to discuss.  But there was one thing.
“One more thing though, before I call it forgiven and get to packing for the trip.”
“You still ain’t packed?”
“I’m asking the questions!  Who is Alan?”
Erk sighs, dipping his head down before looking her in the face to answer.  “Alaina.
“He’s a what?”
“Huh?  No, Alaina.  The name was Alaina not Alan.”
Kimara’s face draws up inquisitively.  “And...she is?”
“My partner for the project I’m working on.  They recruited her from another region and-”
“That’s who you spent the night with instead of dinner with T’Challa and me and his girl?”  Kimara asks.
“I came home!  Don’t make it sound like that, it was a late night.  Ole dude I work for keeps piling shit on me and deadlines-”
Kimara waves her hands in front of him.  “It’s fine.”
“Huh?”
“It’s ok!”  Kimara smiles.  “Seriously, I trust you.  You said works been beating your ass, and I know you wouldn’t be looking all sour if you were getting some ass on the side, so I think I can trust you aren’t cheating.”
Erik stared at her speechless before nodding and agreeing.  
“Plus, we tryna have a baby and I know you wouldn’t mix shit up with her when all that seed is mine, like that would be wasteful.”
Erik growls in his chest, leaning over her, nose to nose.  “Say that again.”
Kimara holds back her smile, rubbing his chest.  “Your seeeed is miiiine.  Don’t waste it.”  Kimara bites his lip at the end of ‘it’, catching him of guard, but not enough to lay her out legs spread quicker than she could blink.
“Wait wait, Erik.  I can’t!”  Kimara says, half giggling.
“Whatchu mean??  You playing with a dog and get afraid when you get the bark?  Quit playing and get them draws off.”  Erik pulls at her bottoms.
“No!  Wait!  I mean it, I’m cramping and shit.  I don’t want nothing near my pussy right now.”
Erik moans out loud in frustration, plopping backwards on the couch, erection pushing at his sweatpants.
Kimara lowkey loved making him wait, period or not.  It’s nice to see he still wants her, and no one else has his attention to fix his rather big problem throbbing in his pants.
“Erik?  You never told me what you think about the tour.”
Erik exhales loudly.  “Good idea, that’s finna kill my hard on real quick.”
“Erik!”  
He sits up, pushing down on himself.  “Mara, I want you to get your hustle goin, I know you been singin since way way way back.”
“Hold up, it ain’t been that long, makin me feel old.”
Erik bops her with his shoulder.  “You know you been my Suga Mama.”
“Two months older Erik.  Dassit!”
Erik looks at the floor, rubbing her knee.  “I just don’t understand why you think it’s best to leave now.  What Imma do without you for two months?”
“Whatever you been doin get home late at night.”  Kimara says flatly.
“The project is almost finished, do I don’t know where that attitude came from.”  
Kimara sits silent, not up for a fight, especially in her hormonal state.
Erik stares at her, testing her.  He knows she wants to say more, she always does.  “I got two more weeks on this, and it’s done.  My workload is gonna be lighter, more boring, and I promise my time will be yours, but now you wanna leave, so.”
“But you understand why right?  It doesn’t sound like you do.  I don’t wanna leave you alone or stop trying, but...this is my dream!”
“Having a family is too right?  That’s why all our time and money been revolving around everything related to that for almost a whole damn year.  It’s fucking flaky.”  Erik shoots back.
“Erik, you got to do what you wanted, right?  This ain’t new with you!  When you want something, you go for it, fuck anybody that gives a shit, it’s yours.  I’m tired of being in the shadow of your shit, cleaning things up so you can have your peace.  This is mine.”
“The fuck is you talkin about??  Is your PMS going retrograde or some shit?”  Erik speaks over her in an agitated tone.  Nothing Kimara said made sense anymore to him.
Kimara gets up, waving him off.  “Eat my ass Erik,  I said what I fucking had to say and I mean that shit.”
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