My Aw Hell Naw Karen Shirt I Made

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My Dope Man [6]

The second you woke up you checked your phone.

My bad for leavin like that.

That was the closest thing to an apology you were going to get out of him

Are u okay? Safe etc

Im outside your door. 

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Black panther clock

Muse (Chapter One)

Artist!Erik x Reader

In which you meet your favorite artist, Erik Stevens, at Comic-Con.

Songs:

G-Dragon- Crayon.

Janelle Monae- Dance Apocalyptic

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Lost In The Moment (8) - T’Challa x Reader

• (Part 1)(2)(3)(4)(5)(6)(7)

• ⚠️ Trigger Warning ⚠️ Mentions and brief descriptions of childhood mental and physical abuse. Do not proceed if you are sensitive to the subject matter. You have been warned. I apologize to anyone in advance if this makes you uncomfortable, but this is where the story has led me. Y/N definitely has a reason to be anxious and guarded. Now you will learn a little about why.

***

Present Day

You were there again. Back in the dark, deprived of your sense of sight and sound, trapped in your own mind. Amplified, muted thuds from your accelerated heartbeat ticked away the passing seconds in your mind’s ear, a metronome to the symphony of insidious thoughts performing passionately for your insecurities and deepest fears. No sense of where you are. No sense of time of day. No idea what was going on around you. You would have to feel.

A cold slab. Loose garments. Bare feet. Good.

It was disorienting to sit up, a lack of a sense of direction enough to spur anyone into immediate panic. But you couldn’t panic. Panic invites demise. With a steadying breath, you dragged your legs over the edge of what you assumed to be a table of sorts, feet dangling, toes pointed a few inches above the ground. You inhaled deeply.

Sterile environment. Rubbing alcohol. Disinfectant. Some sort of exam room?

For a brief moment, the tautness in your muscles subsided. He wouldn’t put you here, too many options to defend yourself. Alternatively, there were many ways to be harmed. You shook the thought away, though. It would never get that bad, right? He only did it for your own good. To keep you safe, to teach you how to keep yourself safe…right?

It always started with a sharp, tingling feeling, every hair on your body acting as a sensor and standing on end before swaying with the direction of the incoming movement. So when a foreign hand suddenly rested on your right shoulder, gripping you from behind, instinct and self preservation took over immediately, your left hand grabbing it at the wrist, twisting until the elbow was facing you, locking it in place, and, with your own elbow, striking it with enough force to shove the arm in a direction opposite its design, effectively breaking the bone, tiny pieces of it splintering through the person’s skin.

Another person meant you weren’t too high off the ground so you leaped off your perch, planting your bare feet firmly onto the cool tile, knees slightly bent and palms out. You couldn’t see with your eyes, but your body worked to compensate, the soles of your feet offering a 360 degree radar. A wave of vibrations from incoming footsteps kissed the tip of your toes and flooded its way across each nerve in your feet indicating how many people were nearby. Two pairs of feet accelerated faster than the rest, a rush of moving air near your face triggering you to duck quickly, the light drag wind indicating the assailant carried a weapon, possibly slender, likely a staff. Warmth radiated from the person in front of you. They were close enough. Your open palm morphed into a fist and you slammed into what felt like an abdomen, the opposite hand thrusting upward and making contact with the person’s slight chin. A punch connected into your side from behind you and, as you pivoted to roundhouse them, you were met with empty space, almost as if someone had been dragged away. The air around you was suddenly cooler, indicating that no one was in hand-to-hand striking range and worry set in.

Rightfully so. All at once, your feet were bombarded with one enormous wave of vibrations, the sensation coming inward from all around you, making it impossible to determine how many people were around or where they stood, rendering you completely blind. They must have stomped in sync. It was then that you were seized, large strong arms locked around yours, their hands coming up and interlacing their fingers behind your head, locking them together and holding you in place. You bucked wildly against the unknown person whose muscles were the equivalent of bricks against your supple skin even though it was completely useless to do so.

Teeth sank into your right shoulder and gripped it firmly, the pressure just shy of the amount necessary to puncture your skin. A rush of endorphins shot through your brain and body, the sensation causing your limbs to relax and you finally stopped resisting.

“Xander?”

No sound penetrated your ear, but you knew he responded, your back receiving the vibrations of his voice from his large, chiseled chest. Your body suddenly became heavy and you felt yourself go limp. Very gently, he brought you to the floor and sat behind you, your body cradled between his legs as you leaned back into him, feeling drained as your adrenaline high wore off.

You had been here more times than either of you could count, stuck on a constant loop without any hope of reprieve. Out of habit, you lifted your left hand and turned your palm backwards to face him. “Is he here?”

Xan knew who you were referring to. He lifted his index finger and began tapping in the center of your palm. Line. Dot. Line. Line. Line. Even as he did that, he spoke. He understood the comfort it brought you to be able to feel the vibrations when experiencing sensory deprivation. A relieved sigh rushed from your chest. “Is he coming?” When he didn’t respond, your shoulders sank. Of course he would. It was only a matter of time.

***

15 Years Ago - L.A., California

“Can I open my eyes now?”

“No. And no peeking, Y/N.”

“I won’t.”

“I mean it.”

“I said I won’t, Xan, damn.”

“Don’t say damn, Y/N.”

“You say damn, Xander.”

You didn’t see, but he smiled at you. “I’m an irredeemable soul, sweetheart. You, on the otha hand, are destined to be great. A Queen. And we can’t have a future Queen havin’ a potty mouth and shit. Especially because of me.”

“Then maybe you should watch your mouth and shit.”

His responding laugh soothes you. “I’m tryna be a better influence so just do as I say and not as I do. Dang.” He emphasized the replacement word and after a beat of silence in which you both weighed the feeling and impact of it, laughter burst from deep within your bellies. “Hell nah, that word is hella whack, just do as I say, Queen.”

You simply nodded in agreement.

The loud noises he made were purposeful, as was the constant talking. He didn’t want to trigger an episode by having you deal with darkness and silence at the same time on his account. Better than anyone, he knew what that did to you. Even at 14 he understood the weight of you trusting him enough to allow him to do something unexpected and unplanned and he genuinely appreciated it.

“Okay, baby girl.” He had moved behind you, the smile in his voice as he whispered actually making you happily, even if nervously, anticipate his surprise. “Open ya eyes.”

You nearly fell out of your seat.

“Happy birthday, Y/N.”

“Xander…” The tears came and you began frantically wiping your face. Tears weren’t allowed. Neither were birthdays. Or cupcakes with a baby blue number thirteen candle. “Xan, I can’t…he’s going t-“

Suddenly his finger was on your lips to silence you, his smile tender as he spoke, making sure to meet your eyes. “I uh, I gotchu something. It’s kinda like a present.”

He presented you with a plastic bag from Walgreens. You peered inside and looked up at him in confusion before pulling out the package. He took your other hand and rubbed it gently as he spoke. “These are called pads, Y/N. For when you, ya know, when the blood comes again, which by the way is called a period. These will collect it, to keep it from staining your clothes.”

“I don’t…how do they work?”

Xander took his time explaining to you everything he’d learned in 9th grade health class and from various female classmates that weren’t ashamed of talking about it. He even demonstrated how to put it on. Your father and stepmother hadn’t so much as hinted that this would even happen to your body. Last month when it happened for the first time you panicked and locked yourself away, even missing an important audition for a Nickelodeon show that day. That’s how Xan found you and it broke his heart. So, he’d spent the past month leading up to your birthday learning everything he could so that he could reassure you that everything was okay, that you weren’t a broken freak of nature.

In that moment, like so many others, Alexander Emmanuel Davenport, a 14 year old boy who had a penchant for trouble, was your mother and your father. You threw your arms around him and hugged him tightly, your embrace and tears explaining what words couldn’t. “Thank you.”

He felt himself tearing up at the idea that the first acknowledgement of your birthday came at thirteen, that your first present was a box of sanitary napkins and that you were genuinely happy about that. He had to shake it off and removed himself from your arms. “Hurry up and make a wish before your old man comes. I don’t want you to end up in the chamber on your day.”

You didn’t know what to wish for. What did you deserve really? But you closed your eyes for a beat and blew out the candles, smiling gleefully when you opened them again. You weren’t sure how Xander even pulled it off, but you were glad that he thought you were worth the risk.

He urged you to eat your cupcake and you obliged. Never having indulged in one before, it was entirely too sweet.

You ate it anyway. Every last crumb.

***

Present Day

T’Challa couldn’t take it; the sight of you so at ease in another man’s arms was excruciating. He watched and listened as you and Xander conversed, his stance stoic, the heat from the fury he felt, however, threatening to melt the polite social mask he wore.

And who were you really? T’Challa had seen the spontaneous, the witty, he’d seen the anxious, the vulnerable. But what he had just witnessed you do moments before? There was no way you had learned those moves in a week with Ayo. Xander, however, was not surprised, and had quickly and effectively found a way to neutralize you without bringing any harm, unlike the intent of the guard that became alarmed after your initial attack.

T’Challa very nearly snapped the neck of the guard who had struck you from the force that he’d used to snatch him away. Now, it seemed that he’d unwittingly saved him from the emergency facial reconstructive surgery that would have been needed had your kick connected. He’d grown up surrounded by some of the strongest, most powerful women the world had to offer. Skills in combat are definitely as asset, and deep down he was definitely impressed, even proud, but his mind couldn’t register those emotions at all. The emotions he did feel were voiced by Okoye.

“Kumkani, what do you know really know about this woman?” Her voice was a steely whisper, but all in the room, except you, could hear it. “Tracking devices, poisonous chemicals with sensory deprivation side effects, the ability to defend herself while deaf and blind, and this man!” She motioned to Xander. “They look to be more than friends. I believe we should put them both in a holding cell just in cas-“

“Why did you bite her?” T’Challa cut Okoye off. His mind had drifted to the councilmen warning him about you, about his haste. He thought about how adamant he was about your rightful place being at his side, how he’d have it no other way. Then he remembered how he’d taken you on the balcony and in he heat of the moment a surge of possessiveness caused him to bite your neck, marking you and claiming you as his life mate. He realized that’s what bothered him the most. In an attempt to be rational and talk himself down from unleashing on everyone from the frustration and confusion and hurt he he felt, he decided to question this strange man who sat holding the physical embodiment of his heart.

“There is a pressure point between the neck and shoulder,” Xander rubbed the area of your body he was referring to, tracing the teeth imprint he’d left there, causing T’Challas fists to clench tightly. “When enough pressure is applied, it releases endorphins and floods the brain with feel good chemicals. It’s how I get her to snap out of jackin’ mode.”

“Jackin’ mode?” Okoye and T’Challa spoke at the same time, matching quizzical expressions painting their features.

“Yeah, you know, fighting.”

“Who are you talking to?” There had to be someone else still in the room with you since his chest continued buzzing behind you. You wiggled the fingers of your left hand, wanting a response.

“Aye, bro, what’s ya name?”

“King T’Challa,” Okoye answered. “And if you refer to him in a disrespectful manner again, you will become acquainted with the sharper end of my spear.” He didn’t mind the threat. He’s been in worse situations. He immediately began tapping the name he’d received, and before he could even finish, you scrambled to your feet, looking around wildly, frustrated that you couldn’t see him, desperate to be in his arms.

You called out to him. He didn’t respond, didn’t come to you. Your stomach bottomed out and nervousness reigned. You became completely still for a moment. If I can just feel him…After a moment of silence, you slowly turned to your left and extended your arms before you, your palms facing the ground, fingers splayed, pointed outward in to detect any potential obstacle. They were met with nothing until a twinge of heat radiated from what you believed to be a body before you. After inhaling deeply, you released a content sigh when you recognized his smell. “T’Challa~” You held out your hand expectantly, one palm facing him, the other resting gently on his chest.

It would be a lie to say that it didn’t please him that you could find him even without your primary senses, that the connection and draw that you had to each other was strong enough to pull you to him. His eyes searched your face for a long while until you spoke again, your voice barely a whisper. “I’ll have your back if you have mine.” His eyes flicked to Xan.

“Morse Code.”

T’Challa nodded and proceeded to tap out a message for you that made you smile, your other hand receiving vibrations from his chest as he spoke. “Without question.” He was still with you. He still had your back. You would have an opportunity to let him completely in, for better or worse. Your mind insisted this wouldn’t turn out well, but as if your thoughts were privy to him, an open book to peruse cover to cover at his leisure, he swallowed you in his embrace and kissed your forehead tenderly, chasing away the phantoms of doubt and giving your heart new hope.

Despite how this all looked, T’Challa couldn’t deny you the same trust you’d offered him when your situations were reversed just one week ago. Every person comes with a history to be explored. He just had to trust that you cared for him the way he cared for you. Honestly, you both needed the awkward ex’s talk.

“How long will this last?” He eyed Xander again.

“It varies. When we were kids it would last a few days. Maybe as an adult her body will be able to recover more quickly. It’s difficult to say.”

“What do you mean ‘when we were kids’? She has experienced this before? On multiple occasions?!” T’Challas chest began inflating and deflating rapidly, the ability to remain calm and dignified fading rapidly.

Xander looked at Okoye first, his eyes narrowed in speculation before directing his attention to the King. “What do you know about Y/N?”

T’Challa was growing weary of that question, the weight of it draining him immensely. All he wanted was to love you and be loved by you. But relationships took more than that, came with more than that. What do I really know about her? Not much, he concluded. Not enough. But he would fix that. Soon.

***

The madness had been moved to T’Challa’s office. He, Xander, and Okoye were in attendance. You requested that Ayo and Shuri be allowed as well. The King had guided you to a chase lounge and that’s where you sat cuddled up next to him with your face on his chest, his thumb rubbing your arm rhythmically. You were sure to keep your feet on the floor.

Xander watched the two of you from where he stood near the door, his large frame leaning on the wall, arms folded across his chest. He’d never seen you willingly and comfortably accepting physical contact from anyone besides himself and wasn’t sure what to make of it. He had to admit that it was nice not to see you skittish though. “You mind if I ask her somethin’?” He was addressing T’Challa.

“No, go ahead.”

Xander pushed himself from his comfortable post and slowly approached you. After he stomped twice in rapid succession, you held out your palm to receive his message. Instead of replying out loud, you responded back in morse code as well. The conversation happened over a handful of minutes but to T’Challa it felt like forever. Why all the secrecy? Okoye was getting antsy as well and moved to speak, but your voice cut her off. “No, it’s okay. I want to.”

Xander kneeled down in front of you and, upon noticing T’Challa’s grip on you tightening ever so slightly, he glanced up at him, a light smirk playing on his lips. “I’m gonna stay here. To keep her in the loop. That’s if you don’t mind…king.”

T’Challa’s jaw clenched, eyes narrowing marginally at the man before responding. “If you must.”

Xan placed his hand over your palm and instead of tapping in Morse code, he began finger spelling using ASL. When he finished you nodded and sat up straight, being sure to clasp your lover’s hand with your free one. Even without being able to see, or perhaps it was because you couldn’t, you could feel T’Challa’s uneasiness with Xander’s close proximity. You were hopeful that offering an explanation would help him not feel threatened by Xan. “Okay.” You took a deep breath and let it out, your dark eyes focused on nothing particular. “What is it that you want to know?”

Despite the silence that followed your question, the room was filled with the roar of racing thoughts as everyone scrambled to formulate an inquiry that would satisfy their burning curiosity or quell their sneaking suspicions. It was T’Challa who spoke first, having realized that he wouldn’t be able to focus properly if he didn’t have the answer to one question. “Do you really love me?”

Xander passed along the message. Having known you most of your life so far, he could have answered himself. “Yes, T’Challa, I do. I’ve never felt anything like what I feel for you.”

“Not even for this man?” Xan snorted and swallowed a laugh as he translated. You felt it and swiftly whacked him upside the head. That made him laugh harder.

“T’Challa.” How do you explain this to him? “I do love Xander. I have for as long as I can remember. I didn’t really have a choice though.” You gripped his loosening hand tighter. “It’s kinda something that happens with family.”

You received the message ‘You’re family?’ He didn’t specify who it came from. No vibrations came from T’Challa so it must have been someone else. Xan indicated they were incredulous.

“Technically, yes. I think. It’s…complicated.”

Xan took over speaking but continued signing in case you wanted to add something. “Her pops was my stepdad before she was born. My mom ended up strung out, left me with him. He met her mom and fell in love and shit, they had her, but Y/N’s mom died givin’ birth to her and…yeah. Technically, baby girl here is my sister, even if not legally or biologically. When we got a little older, I left for a bit, ran the streets, fended for myself, but I couldn’t stand leaving her alone with him…so I came back.”

‘Couldn’t stand to leave her alone with who?’

“Her father, if he could be called that.” Xander explained your father’s military involvement and how it influenced your upbringing. “We were soldiers in his own private army.”

‘Is that how you learned to fight?’

You began shifting at the question. “Yes.” Talking about this suddenly felt like a bad idea, taboo somehow.

He signed that he believed they were waiting for details and the tears you were holding back could be heard in your voice when you responded. “I don’t…he’s going to…what if T’Cha-“

Xan’s fingers flew across your hand at lightening speed, attempting to comfort you as best he could without holding you and rocking all the pain away. It had taken you into adulthood to even recognize that your upbringing wasn’t the norm. Whenever you had to face it, the emotions that came with the truth were often overwhelming. “The chamber…” you started, your voice shaking but your resolve strong. “…I got most of my training there. I was always doing something wrong and often needed discipline. So…” The quiver of your bottom lip caused T’Challa to pull you closer to him. “…uhm, I would get injections that rendered me deaf and blind and I would have to defend myself. It took years to find a way to keep from getting beat so badly.”

“She didn’t really do anything wrong,” Xander clarified. “He would use any excuse to put her through that hell.”

‘Who? Who put her through hell?’

“My…father.” It was strange for you, calling him that.

‘Why?’

“He said it was because I was too weak. That I needed to be stronger.”

Xander had a different theory. T’Challa could tell by his shift in posture and how his eyes darkened. Xan began signing to you that you didn’t have to continue right now, but he spoke aloud to address the room. “You don’t beat, starve, and mutilate a person ‘cause you care enough to ‘make ‘em stronger’, it just ain’t the truth. You know he let her go into acting as anotha means of manipulation? It’s easy to make someone believe everything is fine if they have something other folks ain’t got. How many little girls can say they got to star in a show? Sing on broadway? Play in movies? The only time Y/N has ever really been free is when she was pretending to be someone else for the entertainment of otha people. She couldn’t even reach out ‘cause to the world, she had it made, she was living the dream.” He pinched the bridge of his nose then, his nails digging deep into the sensitive skin there. “It was a fuckin’ nightmare for her.”

“And you too.” Your voice was small. He hadn’t signed what he was saying, you were just very faintly able to make out what he said, your ears opening up slightly. “It was a fuckin’ nightmare you chose to walk me through.”

He allowed a humorless smile as he released his face. “Don’t say fuckin’, Y/N.”

“You say fuckin’, Alexander.”

“Yeah. I do a lot of dumb shit.” He paused. “Y/N your old man sent me to get you…and bring you back.”