#once again it’s international babygirl day everybody cheer!

[leclerrari]

really, it’s been a thrill

CHARLES MARC HERVÉ PERCEVAL LECLERC (OCTOBER 16, 1997)

[thehomierobbstark]

Request : headcanon of Erik being jealous

[A/N: Another headcanon-fic hybrid for the homies. I took this one and kind of did my own take on it. It’s got a lil a this n a lil of that 😉. I hope you like it anon! Thanks for asking :)] 

You would think that with all the confidence, accomplishments, and swagger Erik Stevens had, there would be no need for him to ever be worried about anyone else, especially when it came to the rock solid relationship the both of you’d built over the years

He was an incredibly educated, resourceful, and intelligent strong black man.

Unfortunately, it did nothing to keep him from always being just a little bit jealous.

“Hey, E? I’m gonna drop my stuff and go run to the store real quick. Text me if you need anything, ok?” you yell down the hallway, letting your work bags fall softly by the couch before slinging your purse around your shoulder and heading out the door.

“Get me some gatorade please! The clear kind!” he hollers back, head poking out from the bedroom. The front door closes right as he says it, and he chuckles to himself. ‘Always moving a mile a minute,’ he thinks, smiling as he thinks of you.  He makes his way out into the living room to grab his phone, texting you the information you missed and to remind you to slow down.

On his way back, he passes your stuff on the floor, scooping up the bags to put your things in your home office. As he grabs your computer bag, something falls out of the front pocket, a small red envelope addressed to a ‘Miss Y/M/N’ with hearts drawn around your name in the shape of another heart.

Erik picks it up, eyeing it while he turns it around in his hand for more details. He didn’t want to open it because he trusted you too much to be looking through your stuff, but he was curious who it could be from since it wasn’t February or anywhere near your birthday. And nobody ever called you by your middle name except for him (well, sometimes).

When he gets to your office, he places the rest of your stuff on your desk, plopping down in your chair, still fingering the card and twirling it between his hands.

It was already open, the seal broken, so he figured it couldn’t hurt to just take a quick look at it. It was just a card, after all. Probably a thank you from one of your work wives or something for all your hard work.

Pulling out the card, he opens it, the neat words written in near perfect cursive, almost looking like one of those instruction guides on how to write script. 

It read: 

‘The last three weeks have been the best I’ve ever had. I can’t wait to show you what else I can do this Friday.’

Love,

Bakari

The thing about Erik Stevens was, once he started to become suspicious, he became very dramatic about it, very fast.

And it never took much to get him suspecting.

“What the… yo who the fuck is this Bakari nigga?!” he gets heated within a millisecond, flipping the card over obsessively to try and find a number or something to let him know who this secret admirer was. 

There wasn’t even an address on the envelope, which meant that this fool either gave it to her when she was in class, or walked his bold ass up to his house, HIS HOUSE, and dropped it in the mailbox.

Erik couldn’t wait till you got home so you could explain to him what the hell he was looking at. He couldn’t believe some random no good nigga was tryna put the moves on his girl. Not his baby girl.

While Erik was back at home having a stage 5 meltdown, you were currently in the pasta isle trying to find the right udon noodles for the Anime and Manga marathon you and Erik had planned for this weekend.

You were super excited to show him your all time favorite Manga, Pearl Pink, which was the first manga you’d ever read.

You get a text on your phone, the device buzzing away in your back pocket as you reach down to grab your chosen noodles.

Thinking its more grocery demands from your black hole stomached boyfriend, you ignore it, waiting until you’re done shopping in this section to head over to the frozen isle he no doubt wants you to go to.

Erik: Y/N. Call. Me.

Erik: We can talk about this baby! Just tell me who Bakari is

Erik: I know you see these text messages girl, you better answer me goddammit

Erik: I’m sorry babygirl, I ain’t mean to curse at you like that. I just wanna talk baby please call me back.

Erik: Aight, coo then. 

All within a span of three minutes

He’d reneged on his earlier plan to wait until you got home, his anxiousness pushing him to reach out to you immediately.

He just wanted to hear your voice, hear something in it that told him that you were still his.

You’d just finished dumping a couple bags of your favorite Shrimp Chips into your basket, unsuspecting of the turmoil unraveling at home when your phone buzzes again, this time longer than before. 

You pull it out and look down to see that Erik’s calling you. Apparently he was getting very anxious about his food.

You put the phone to your ear, answering sweetly. “Hey baby, what you need?”

“You at that nigga house, ain’t you?” His voice was gruff and short, a stark contrast compared to the way you just answered the phone. “I knew I should of gone with you!”

Your face scrunches up into confusion. “Whose house? Erik what are you talking about?”

“Don’t try and front babygirl I seen the card!! How could you do me like that baby? After all we been through?!” You can hear his voice start to rise to an almost hysteric pitch, and you wonder if he’s been drinking since you last saw him 30 minutes ago.

“What card, Erik? Baby, slow down, you’re freakin me out. Look, I’mma be home in a second baby can you just hold on-”

“Just tell me who Bakari is Y/N! I just wanna know who that bitch ass nigga is!”

You pause, stopping in your tracks from rushing to push your cart to the nearest checkout line. You throw your head back and cackle, laughing so loud you scare the white elderly couple standing to your left. You wave your hand at them, trying to weakly apologize as tears threaten the corners of your eyes while you attempt to catch your breath. You dropped the phone in the cart when you bursted into hysterics, and all you can hear are the small faraway sounds of Erik trying to get your attention again.

“Why you laughin like that? Oh you forreal cheating on a nigga, huh? I can’t believe you got me out here looking stupid like this! I’m bout to run up on this mf…”

~~~

The Next Day

“Will you stop pacing please? You look like you’re ready to fight somebody.”

“I am ready to fight somebody Y/N. Yo you need to stop playing and just tell me where this nigga at so we can talk. I just wanna see wassup real quick.”

You start giggling again, chest bouncing as you try to stifle it with your hand over your mouth. You couldn’t wait to see the look on Erik’s face once he found out who it was.

The classroom empties out, the new students filtering in, ranging in all ages as they move about to find their seats in the college classroom.

Erik scans every guy who enters, sizing him up, trying to see if its him.

“Is it that nigga?” he leans over and whispers to Y/N, nodding to the dark chocolate brother with long dreads hanging down his back. “Really Y/N? You was gon trade me in for a hotep?” he looks at you bewildered, and you almost spit your coffee out your mouth. Oh, the irony.

“Look, Erik, you not bout to embarrass me here so you better shut the hell up and relax.” you whisper harshly, and he grumbles in submission, leaning back in his chair as his eyes still scan the students.

The bell sounds and you clear your throat, standing up from your chair and smoothing out your dress.

“Alright class, today we have a very special guest from the Wakandan International Outreach Center, Mr. Erik Stevens!”  Erik lifts from his chair, plastering on a warm smile as he waves around the room, greeting everybody before sitting again.

You continue. “He’ll be here to give us some information at the end of class on some of the amazing programs they have to offer over at WIOC.  In the mean time, he’s gonna be up here, helping us with our final projects!” you clap your hands together, and the class erupts into cheers, excitement over the days events filling up the room.

You step out in front of your desk to walk around the room, holding your chin as you think out loud.

“Hmmm… who wants to be the first one to come show Mr. Stevens what we’ve been working on? Anyone?” you ask, and a bunch of enthusiastic hands shoot up, waving around vigorously. 

“Hmmm… how about you, Bakari?” Erik’s head snaps towards the class, eyes looking around vigorously for the culprit. 

He scoots back from his chair, nearly running to the front of the class before colliding with you, hugging you tightly. 

You return the hug, looking back to see Erik’s face looking completely dumbfounded, and you snicker, taking a mental picture of it. You look down at the 3rd grader, smiling brightly.  “You ready to get started kiddo?”

“Yeah, Miss Y/M/N!”

You spend the next 15 minutes with Bakari and Erik at the whiteboard, practicing calligraphy samples for the class to see.

Erik is horribly bad at it, and Bakari sees to it to teach him how to do it, much to the amusement of both you and the students.

After a few more teaching lessons and a quick recap, you give the class 45 minutes to work on their final projects, the buzz of parents helping their children and exchanging information for play dates, giving the room a low hum.

You walk back to join Erik at your desk, finally taking a seat.

“So, Bakari is -”

“My 8 year old calligraphy student, yes.” you finish for him, cheeky smile peeking through as you rest your head in your hand and look at him.

“Your weekly Calligraphy classes,” Erik chuckles to himself, remembering now. “I completely forgot about them,” He blows out a sigh, running his hand down his face. Of all the possible scenarios he’d imagined, this one was the absolute furthest from his mind.

“I figured,” You snorted. “It’s only a four week program now that the college cut the funding. They’re saying they can only afford the curriculum for the grad and undergrad students now going forward.” You share, a little saddened at the news. You’d grown to really enjoy the extra curricular classes you got to teach outside of your regular art classes, and you were really heartbroken because you’d really grown to love the students too.

Erik takes your hand down by your lap, rubbing a thumb over the back of it. 

“Hey, the Outreach Center’s got more than enough funding to help keep the classes going, and plus we’ve been trying to get more involved in higher education programs anyway to better support our high school participants. This could be a great start for us.” he tells you, squeezing at your hand for assurance.

You look over to him, completely and utterly content with everything the man before you was. You don’t think you could ever love another person as much as you do Erik.

You smile, nodding your head to accept his offer. “I’m still tryna see this fight that you promised me, tho. What did you call him again? A bitch ass nigga?” You tease him, and he leans his head back and closes his eyes, quietly groaning.

“You’re never gonna let me live this down, are you?” he mutters, still embarrassed.

“Never.” You say, and you both laugh together. You link your pinky with his under the desk, both of you holding on to each other as you look out over the class.