#ugh I know there are some grammatical errors SOMEHWERE up in this thing

[logancreatesworlds]

Black Folks Don’t Do That Shit

Author’s Note:  Hello everyone!  So I got this idea after seeing a Tumblr post with Lupita Nyong’o and it kinda just spiraled from there.  Hope you all like it!

Warnings: Some harsh language and that’s it...for now.  😈😈😈

Disclaimer:  None of the images used are mine.

Prologue

You shook nervously as your eyes shot open.  Harsh breaths hit your lungs as you tried your best to sit up, your heart drumming as if it were part of a marching band.  Something stopped you.  You looked down at your wrists to see that they were bound to a bed.

You pulled and pulled with all your might, but it was useless. 

Then, the door opened and she walked in.

Your eyes narrowed, “You.”

She smiled, “Yes kitten, me.”

“You drugged me.”

“Yes.  To make you more…compliant.”

She sat down and smiled pleasantly.

Her red lips curled upwards like a Cheshire Cat.

It was almost like things were normal, like she was normal…

But she wasn’t.

She ran her clawed hand up your naked thigh, her bright red eyes alight with undead interest.

You should kick her, fight her – do something, but you didn’t.

Black folks don’t do that shit.

“So sad to see you leaving,” Pepper Potts commented as she watched you pack your last suitcase, her red lips sticking out in a thin line of her pale face.

“Yeah,” you agreed, “But I have to be moving on.  Can’t stay in the same place for too long, right?”

“Well,” Pepper said, “If your path leads you back to New York, you always have a job here.”

“Thank you,” you replied, giving her one last hug.

Today was your last day over at Stark Tower as the Stark family’s personal chef.  Sure, Friday could have done it, but Tony insisted on paying you 15$ an hour to work during the week after tasting your banana pudding.

However, cooking the same healthy ass Californian recipes were just getting too old.  You were forgetting why you enjoyed cooking in the first place.

You quietly sat on the next Amtrak train back to your home – New Orleans, Louisiana.

Time to get reconnected.

_

“Mama!”

“(Y/N)!  Oh my babygirl, you’re home!”

You squeezed her tightly as her familiar scent filled your nose.

Pears, lilac, fresh linen...

“I missed you,” you said, kissing her cheek.

“And I missed you too,” she replied, “Come on in.  I got your favorite cookin’.”

“Crawfish n’ rice?”

“Yup.  And we also have pecan pie.”

“Of which I will be getting the first slice,” a familiar voice said.

While that voice didn’t disturb your mother, it still scared you even now.

“(Y/N),” your mama said, “You remember Sunny, don’t you?”

How could you forget him?

“Of course,” you replied, plastering a falsified smile on your face.

“Good to see you (Y/N).”

“You too.”

A brief, awkward silence washed over the room, but your mother - ever the perfectionist mediatior, quickly ushered you upstairs to help you unpack.

This was going to be a long visit.

_

You sighed softly as you breathed in through your nose.

The New Orleans air was thick with the scent of car oil, sweat, trumpets and dough frying into beignets.

It smelled like home.

But there was something else in the air.

Children’s laughter, bubbling chocolate, pumpkin rinds...

Halloween, or it would be in thirteen days.

It was fitting, given all the smell of spook in the wind and jack-o’-lanterns on porches.

It was your favorite time of year.

Feeling invigorated, you walked into a farmer’s market and up to a local vendor who was carrying a rather large flower stand with him.

“Excuse me, kind sir?”

“Why hello lady,” he said in that familiar southern accent, “What can I do you for?”

“I’m looking for some translucent orchids,” you said, “Do you have any available?”

“Translucent orchids?  Hmmm roses...daffodils...lilac.  Nope.  No orchid.  Sorry sweetie.”

“Thanks anyway.”

You continued to walk, quietly ghosting through the loud and boisterous crowd.

Despite feeling invisible, you could feel someone watching you - like you weren’t alone.

You wish, you though petulantly to yourself.

You looked upon the fruits and vegetables, fitting in between families of black fathers, ebony mothers and swart children.

They all seemed so happy...

Sighing, you got to the other end of the market and looked back.

For a second, it seemed like the world slowed down.

Then...

“Penny for your thoughts?”

You turned around and saw a woman.

Now she stuck out.

Her dark skin stood out against the umbrella she was holding and her black outfit was only matched by her tinted glasses.

She looked like the night itself.

Nevertheless, you spoke to her.

“Just not in the Halloween spirit,” you replied.

“Such a shame,” she commented, “New Orleans is a place of magic.  And you seem like you are in tuned with its charm.”

“Me?”  You scoffed and laughed.  “I’m not much “in tuned” with anything to tell ya’ the truth...”

“Well,” she replied, “Perhaps I can change that.”

She extended her hand to you, and in her dark manicured fingers lied a small card.

You read the mysterious writing.

‘The Udaku Family’

“The Udaku Family huh?  Since when do families have their own cards?”

“The couple I work for is a bit...unorthodox.  And they need a new cook.”

You furrowed your brow, “How did you know I was a cook?”

She smiled, “You were looking at the fruits and vegetables the most, and you seemed disgusted with the ones that looked too ripe.  Only someone who is planning to cook is concerned with such affairs.”

“Well aren’t you observant?”

“I’m trained to see what’s in front of me.”

“So...your boss is looking for a cook.  When do you want me to come?”

“Tonight,” she answered, “A black Cadillac shall pick you up.”

“But you don’t even know where I live?”

“Don’t worry.  We’ll find you.”

You briefly looked down at the card, “Look lady, I-”

She was gone.

_

You quietly looked out the window, anxiously waiting for that black car to roll up.

Was this a good idea?  Of course not.

“They were probably sex traffickers looking for an innocent young girl,” your mother had said.

Still, you were going.

Yes, this is how literally every white girl got kidnapped in all the horror movies you watched, but something pulled you towards that woman at the market today.

There was that intuition in the back of your mind...

‘Don’t go to this weird ass house.  Black folks don’t do that shit.’

And yet?  You didn’t listen to it.

Soon, a car rolled up in front of the main walkway.

A Cadillac Sixty Special maybe?

Its black coat shined as the moonlight casted a gentle shadow upon it.

You swiftly got up and exited the house, kissing your mother goodbye on the way.

The woman from earlier was in the driver’s seat.

“You made it,” she said with the same silky tone from earlier.

“Uh...yeah,” you said, clutching your pure strap, “Yeah, I’m ready.”

She smiled and nudged her head towards the back, signaling you to get in.

You swiftly obeyed and soon you were riding into the night.

_

“So...how long y’all been working for these Udakus?”  You asked as the car drove with buttery ease.

The woman in the front passanger seat answered, “For a long time.”

“Okay...”

You briefly looked out the window and asked another question.

“Do you guys always fetch chefs from their houses or...?”

The woman laughed quietly, “You are quite curious, little one.”

You raised an eyebrow.

Little one...?

“That’s an interesting accent you got there?  Where y’all from?”

The first woman gave you answer, “A place far away from here.”

You were quiet after that.

_

Your mouth dropped at the black and white house that came into view.

Even though the moon and headlights were your only source of light, you could still spot its modern quality.

“Damn,” you mumbled.

The women laughed, “We get that a lot.”

They pulled in and the three of you got out.

That feeling of attraction from earlier now increased tenfold as you got closer to the door.

The door unlocked and slowly creaked open.

Holy.  Fucking.  Shit.

“Wow,” you commented, “Nice place.”

“We do the best we can,” the first woman said.

“I love the decor.”

“Then you shall make a fine fixture here,” the other answered.

“Now remember,” the first woman turned back to you, “Our employers are a bit strange but they are kind.  Don’t let them scare you.  Take a seat and relax.  They shall be out soon.”

You looked around, “Thanks gu-”

They were gone.

You huffed and sat on the plush roundabout.

What is it with these people and disappearing?

_

You waited for what felt like hours.

Looking at your clock, you saw the time.

9:45 pm.

Huffing, you laid back and prepared to text your mom that she was right.

This was a dumb idea.

“Nice work (Y/N),” you grumbled to yourself, “You’re in a house owned by some rich ass white folks who you don’t know.  And they are clearly too rich and occupied for you.  Who do they think they are - Will and Grace?”

“Not exactly.”

You gasped and sprung up, whipping around quickly.

The woman standing there was the most beautiful woman you had ever seen.

She was dark-skinned, with an hourglass figure that would make any model weep.

Her bright red dress showed perfectly under the light of the chandelier.

Her hair was shaven with dark curls atop her head and her eyes...

They were red.

“You must be the chef my girls brought me,” she said, her tongue beckoning you with an African accent you couldn’t place, “I am pleased.  They chose well.”

“Oh uh...thank you.  Forgve my rambling please.  I’m usually not that rude-”

You gasped when the woman quickly pulled your extended hand to her with lightning reflexes.

“It is already forgotten,” she said, her honeyed voice filling your ears.

She held your hand an inch away from your nose and took a big sniff.

Her eyes brightened, “You have a lovely scent.”

“Um...thanks, it’s my mom’s perfume.  I wanted to make a good impression.”

She nodded and let your hand go, “Come.  It is time for your interview to start.”

“Yes ma’am.  I have my resume-”

“That won’t be necessary.  All I need is your name.”

“(Y/N), (Y/N) (Y/M/N) (Y/L/N).  And you are?”

“I am called Nakia.  My two girls who brought you here are Okoye and Ayo.”

“Those are pretty names.”

“If you manage to impress me, then you might learn where they come from.”

Nakia walked you into a large kitchen.

The cabinets were pure oak, the fridge was stainless steel and the island was marble.

She sat down, “Cook for me.”

“What do you want me to make?”

She smiled at you, “Anything you want.”

You quietly sat your purse down and got to work.

You fished out all the dished and ingredients and whipped up one of your favorite recipes.

Nakia watched you interested intent.

You boiled the rice and fried the shrimp.

You sautéed the peppers and onions to perfection before taking them and the shrimp and setting them on top of the Basmatti.

You then set the bowl in front of Nakia along with a glass of wine and handed her a fork.

“Bon appétit,” you said, standing back, “Enjoy.”

Nakia nodded and ate.

Her face was expressionless for most of the meal and when she was done, she smiled at you.

“You’re hired.”

Your eyes bugged out of your head.

“Really?!”

“Mhmm.”

“Oh ma’am thank you so much.  But...won’t hyour husband be upset that you hired me without his approval.”

“My husband is a hermet.  But despite that we are equals.  And trust me...”

Her smile widened.

“He will like you.”

____________

And that is all for now my lovelies!  Hope you stay tuned for the next part.  Please feel free to tell me if I should just delete this.  I’ve been throwing this idea around for a while now...

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