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mickimomo · 1 year ago

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Smile At Me For Once - (Attoye)

I finally got the motivation to write Attoye again! I figured I’d do a few warm ups again, by writing out little prompts that have been living rent free in my mind while working on the next chapters of my fics. Enjoy! :)

p.s. this isn’t set in the Sun and the Sky AU. It’s just post-BPWF, after a treaty has been signed.

Since the treaty was signed between Wakanda and Talokan, little workshops were being held between the two nations to give the people opportunities to learn new skills and build friendships.

Okoye had been very eager to sign up for a few artsy and combat workshops. The midnight angel was hopeful to learn some new ways to kick ass but also embrace this foreign culture. Throughout the entire cultural exchange, she had been very openminded about it all until she had crossed paths with Attuma in a sparring workshop where they played a rougher version of hot potato mixed with floor hockey using a weaker water bomb and wooden spears.

Essentially, you had an unknown number of hits to get the ball in a goal.

If it explodes while you’re maneuvering it around, you’re out until your team scores a goal.

It was a fun game that really boosted everyone’s morale but seeing Attuma and Okoye go against each other while their teammates sat on the bench with bated breaths really got everyone invested.

The man had used every chance he had to be near her, trying his hardest to start a conversation as he maneuvered around her. Through mean mugs and stank eyes, Attuma refused to leave her side. Even causing his team to lose a couple of rounds until she made it clear that she only wished to kick his ass.

Attuma understood that as, ‘I will only respect you if you defeat me or lose to me after giving your all.’

Okoye left the workshop sore, wet, and tattered while Attuma watched her retreat with a bruised grin and blood-filled rebreather.

He had managed to win a few rounds, but he played nastier than she ever wished to discuss or think about after today.

It wasn’t even nasty in a dishonorable cheating manner.

He just played without mercy or restraint or any sense of personal space. This resulted in Okoye having to literally fight for her life or peel him off of her.

There were moments where the wind had been knocked out of her and other moments where Attuma had sent her flipping across the field. He’d always be there to break her falls though, unintentionally groping her during inspections that often ended with gentle touches and the occasional Band-Aid.

Okoye never complained out loud though.

If he wanted to be rough, she could be just as rough.

She had been successful enough to knock him down a few times, but it always left her muscles screaming at how much strength it required to send the blue titan into the muddy earth.

Once she claimed the final victory, earning cheers from her team, Okoye left. She could feel Attuma’s gaze on her back, but she refused to turn around.

She was a wounded cat, desperate to lick her wounds in private.

“Um...Okoye...why did Attuma pin you down like that-”

“-Because he is an idiot.”

“Well, you look like you had fun.” Aneka grinned.

“Do I look like I had fun?” Okoye turned to glare at her friend.

“Well, now you don’t.” She pouted.

“I hope I never have another workshop with that man present.”

“Eh? Why?”

Okoye’s eyes burned into the midnight angel, forcing her to lift her hands in surrender.

“I’ll be quiet.”

“Good.”

Aneka remained quiet as they left the muddy field.

Okoye’s wish of not seeing Attuma had been granted by Bast temporarily.

She’d gone to weaving workshops, cooking workshops, and even carving workshops without seeing Attuma.

It was all going well until she went to the painting workshop that was being led by the king of Talokan.

She should have known Attuma had been praying to Chaac to see her when the sky opened and dropped an ocean’s load of rain.

The downpour was relentless as it soaked her clothes and pebbled her skin, scolding her until she moved faster.

Sandaled feet carried her towards the citadel and down a gilded hallway before she entered the workshop room that was at the beginning of a well-lit corridor.

Rain dripped from her eyelashes as her eyes scanned the room, eager to find a seat without disrupting the class.

Attuma was the only one sitting by himself in the back, while the king paced the front of the room, talking about a painting he had created.

Namor seemed fixated on the painting he had done while he talked, so now was the best time to go.

She gritted her teeth and mouthed a slew of curses as she took off her shoes and tip toed to the empty seat next to the warrior.

Dark brown eyes locked onto her as she quietly pulled out the chair and sat down, successfully making her way in without Namor noticing.

Attuma breathed out a single word.

“In ba’ate’el.” (Warrior.)

But this time, it made her skin feel warm as it fell from his covered lips.

It had somehow gone from something he called her out of respect to perhaps a term of endearment. A nickname between foes to something Okoye refused to acknowledge.

Attuma accepted her glare as a warm welcome before sliding her a few pieces of paper.

“I.” He gently touched his chest. “Write.” He pointed at the papers.

She glanced at the papers apprehensively before taking them when she realized they contained details on the culture behind today’s workshop. Little fun facts and important moments of Talokanil history written neatly in English.

She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t impressed by his act of kindness.

It was clear that whatever his king had written on the board had been duplicated neatly- just for her.

He stared at her, patiently waiting for an ounce of praise.

“Thanks.”

He allowed his lips to curl upward behind his rebreather before he refocused on the speaking king.

Her eyes moved forward too, watching the king pause to put down a piece of paper.

“Alright. Now that we’ve covered the history, let’s jump into today’s craft.” Namor smiled. “Today, you will be working in pairs to create a mural of each other. In Talokan, we keep our culture strong by spilling our history into our art. We tell stories, sing songs, weave tapestries, write music, carve statues, and paint grand murals to record the past. Then, each generation adds to it. This makes our art better and the culture richer.” He lifted up a large painting. “Here is a small example I whipped together for this class. Here we have Chaac leading our priest to the plant that helped our ancestors move to the sea.”

He began to repeat himself, speaking in his mother tongue.

Her ears were able to pick up a handful of words to verify it, but she eventually tuned him out as she took in the large painting.

Namor was talented.

Talented felt like a small word.

An insult almost.

His painting skills were known to be amongst the greatest between both nations, so it made sense that he was leading this workshop. However, seeing his craft in person truly left the group speechless.

The mural was detailed, swirling with various cool tones.

Somber ceruleans, rich viridians, and regal violets.

Sprinkles of sand and clay browns as painted hands reached for a plant that floated down from a watching deity.

Everything was outlined with obsidian and highlighted with white and lighter cool tones.

He pointed at each component of the painting before looking up at everyone. “The story is clear that this is how Talokan came to be.” He put the painting down. “I want you all to work together to make a story about the two of you and paint it. At the end of this workshop, you all will present it to the group.”

He repeated himself once more in Yucatec Mayan before he moved forward to start handing out materials. “If you have any questions for me, please do not hesitate to ask. We have three hours to work on this, so please pour out your creativity and make something beautiful and meaningful with your partner.”

Okoye recoiled at the word ‘partner’ as he began his final translation.

Attuma on the other hand was elated.

His eyes moved to the woman beside him, drinking in her soaked attire.

He was used to seeing her in uniform, but today she was wearing a cropped orange and yellow blouse that tied in the front with a floor length orange and red skirt that moved like lava whenever she walked. She was heavily accessorized with golden bangles, a gold idzila, and a few jade waist beads.

Before he could take in anymore of her beauty, she snapped her red polished fingers in front of his face, sporting a scowl she always wore around him.

He blinked and she sighed before moving forward to place a kimoyo bead in his ear.

The world sounded foreign until she tapped her bracelet and looked up at him curiously.

“Do you understand me?”

He blinked before nodding slowly. “Yes. Can you understand me?”

She nodded. “Yes. Technology.” She offered jokingly before leaning back. “So, we need to tell a story. Let’s make some draft sketches of the mural and then pick the best one.”

“Ok.” He nodded. “Do you want to work separately, or do you want to work together on these drafts?”

“Separately.”

“Ok.”

“Let’s regroup in twenty minutes.” She tapped her kimoyo beads to set a timer.

“Ok.”

He watched her grab a piece of scrap paper and begin to doodle before doing the same.

Every few minutes, he would glance at her, stare at her longingly, get scolded, and refocus on his work.

By the time the twenty minutes was up, he had twenty drafts and she had four.

“I’m surprised you have so many.”

“I’d probably have more if you didn’t yell at me so much.”

“It is difficult to do my task with a creep staring holes into my head.”

“I’m not a creep. I was referencing your features. Your face has to be a part of the mural.”

She gave him a pointed look before she began to lay out her drafts. “Well, let’s see what we’ve got.”

He nodded before laying out his drafts.

He had drawn Okoye twenty times, each one slightly lewder than the first time.

Okoye on the other hand had drawn both of them, taking inspiration from Namor’s style as she drew out different tales from different battles, they’d fought each other in.

There was depth and details and a story.

Everything that was supposed to be there but was missing in Attuma’s work.

He could draw, but nothing he created told a story.

It didn’t capture anything more than the curve of her breasts and ass- amidst the vibrancy of her eyes and fierce scowl she always wore around him.

Very similar to the one she wears now.

“What do you think?” He smiled warmly at her.

“Attuma, you are talented...” She started. “...but you lack the ability to write a story. In fact, you drew me explicitly in every draft.”

“The way I have drawn you is not offensive to my people. Is it offensive to yours?”

“No, but I am more than my tits and ass.”

“Would it look better if I added myself?”

“Why-” She pinched the bridge of her nose to compose herself. “Quality over Quantity. Have you ever heard that phrase before?”

He thought it over. “Not exactly like that...”

“But you understand what I mean, yes?”

“Could you explain?”

“You have nothing more to offer to this idea besides explicit doodles of me. Although the doodles look nice, it’s the same thing... which means you’ve basically given only one idea.” She held up an index finger. “One idea that can’t be used or enjoyed by anyone because there’s no story or lore or creativity behind it.”

“But you are beautiful.”

“Right, but that’s not the theme of this mural. People will get tired of seeing the same thing over and over again. If I showed someone the same doodle twenty times, under the façade that it was something new each time, they’d grow sick of me. Which is why I’m disappointed with your drafts… beyond the obvious explicitness.” She shot him a look as he listened attentively. “We have to be innovative and creative. Just because it has Attuma and Okoye in it, doesn’t mean it’s good. Especially if it’s just the same thing over and over and over again. Whatever we present has to be new and additive to the story we’re trying to tell and something we’re proud of. We have to present this at the end, you know. It should be something of good quality. Something I would want to hang up in my living room and read books under.”

“Then let’s look at your ideas.” He tilted his head. “Maybe I can help draw one of those in a rough draft before we work on the mural.” He offered a small smile. “Whatever we make, I want it to make you happy.”

Okoye nodded as she looked away shyly. “Ok.”

Her four drafts were amazing, each blending the cultures of Wakanda and Talokan to create an ornate mural.

The first one centered around Bast and Chaac blessing her and Attuma in combat as they fought on a bridge.

The second portrayed a midnight angel descending on a warrior adorned with the head of a hammerhead shark, pointing her spear with a vow of sending him off to his ancestors.

The third centered around her kicking Attuma off the sea leopard and into the sea.

The fourth centered around Attuma pointing down at Okoye while she stood underneath an aircraft, holding a child close.

She spent a few minutes explaining each doodle before waiting for Attuma to pick one to work on.

He stared at each doodle with great focus before picking up the third one. “This one.”

She looked at it. “Why?”

“In that moment, we truly became equals.”

“You looked down on me before I kicked you off that ship?”

“No, but the fire in your eyes burned the brightest that day.” He smiled fondly at the doodle. “It makes me wish we had never been enemies.” His smile dropped. “Perhaps you wouldn’t glare at me as much.”

Okoye stared at him as they sat in silence for a minute or two.

“I glare at everyone.” She huffed under her breath, ignoring how his eyes brightened as she looked away.

“I will keep that in mind and not be offended by your angry gaze.”

“Yeah.” She dismissed him, suddenly feeling uncomfortable by her attempt at comforting him. “How long do you need to add your own style to it?”

“Twenty minutes.”

“Ok.” She set another timer. “I’ll start making paint swatches, so we know what colors we want to use.”

“Ok.”

The pair worked quietly on their parts of the project before regrouping when the timer went off.

Okoye looked the doodle over, while Attuma waited patiently for her feedback.

“This looks good to me.” She looked over the patterns he included to add more dimension to the mural. He even cleaned up the design of her characters, being mindful to not erase the notes of her culture she had woven throughout the design.

There were a few creative differences incorporated, but it was definitely something she wouldn’t mind hanging on her living room wall if everything turned out great in the end.

“Can we start working on the sheet of canvas now?”

“I think so.” Okoye nodded. “You can draw the outline and then I’ll paint it.”

“Do a rough draft of what colors you want to use on the draft I just finished while I work.” He glanced up at her. “I don’t want to be in your way when you’re painting.”

“Ok.”

Attuma took a deep breath as he lifted the roll of canvas and rolled it out on the floor. Azure fingers began to spread out the dense material before he grabbed a piece of charcoal and got to work.

Nimble fingers skillfully mixed different colors of paint on a palette before pressing themselves into the wet paint.

She stamped her finger into the areas to denote where each color would go, occasionally going over colors with something different when it didn’t look how she wanted.

Once she was satisfied with her work, Okoye dried her fingers off on a rag and turned back to face Attuma with curious eyes.

At some point while she was working, he had pulled his hair up into a messy bun, failing to catch every single fly away.

His brows were furrowed in concentration while his hands moved with precision and accuracy across the canvas.

Upon closer inspection, it dawned on her that Attuma wasn’t dressed in his usual uniform.

He had on a long jade skirt that complimented his many piercings and a thick band of cream cloth that wrapped around his waist twice before trailing a line diagonally up and over his shoulder.

He didn’t even have his headdress on.

He instead wore a viridian and a cream feather tucked behind his ear with a few shark teeth charms attached to the handful of braids that had been neatly done throughout his hair.

At a quick glance, he looked like a sculpture of a deity who was heavily invested in something.

He was some sort of sea god or water god.

Enchanting her like a siren, luring a pirate out to his demise.

His gaze lifted to meet hers for a moment before he lifted his brow in curiosity.

“Is something wrong?”

“No.”

“You’re staring.”

“I just wanted to make sure I mixed the right shade of blue for your skin.”

“You can do swatches of paint on my back to test it out if you want.”

“No need.” She turned around, flustered, and ashamed that she had been caught.

Attuma chuckled softly as he refocused on his work.

Once he was done, he got up and leaned over her, forcing her to meet his gaze.

“It’s your turn, warrior.”

“Okoye.”

“Hm?”

“My name is Okoye.”

“My apologies. It is your turn, Okoye.”

She offered a small nod before getting up and retreating to the floor.

“Is this okay?” She held up her rough draft.

“It’s perfect.”

“Ok.”

Attuma sat at the table and watched her begin to paint, being extra careful to be neat with each stroke.

Time moved slowly as Okoye worked.

He watched her every move quietly, being mindful not to gawk or make her uncomfortable.

If he was a water god, then she was a goddess of fire.

Beautiful opposites that could destroy one another if not careful but be steamy if allowed to mix.

Okoye could feel him staring but decided not to acknowledge it.

Once she was done painting, Attuma sat back down to finish outlining and highlighting the mural before they signed the bottom right corner.

The pair stepped back to admire their work, covered in smudges of charcoal and a few flecks of paint.

“We’re done.” Okoye breathed out.

“Mhm.”

“We did it.”

“We did.”

“Alright.” Namor spoke up. “While some of you add the finishing touches to your mural, let’s start presenting so that we can clean up and go.” His eyes scanned the room. “Do I have any volunteers?”

Okoye kept her hand down, but Attuma raised his hand.

Her eyes burned into the warrior as Namor grinned.

“Great! Attuma and Okoye will be our first presenters.” He waved them forward. “Come to the front and discuss the lore of your mural.”

Okoye sighed as she helped Attuma lift their mural and carry it to the front of the room.

Gasps filled the air as everyone took in the painting.

The painting was mostly various hues of blue, teal, and gold.

An unmasked midnight angel, striking Attuma into the waves with fire in her eyes.

Instead of painting a ship or an actual sea leopard, a large black panther was painted fighting with a feathered sea serpent in the sea.

The people of Wakanda were denoted by small purple panther cubs clinging to the panther’s back and the people of Talokan were denoted by small jade serpents trying to move up K’uk’ulkan’s back.

Attuma explained it all in Yucatec Mayan first before Okoye spoke in Xhosa.

He removed the kimoyo bead in his ear to relish in the sound of her explaining things in her own mother tongue.

It was beautiful.

She was beautiful.

Her lips stopped moving as her dark brown eyes moved to meet his.

She looked him over as the sound of clapping and soft cheers filled the air.

It all became background noise the moment she smiled at Attuma.

His skin purpled as she parted her lips to say, “Dios bo’otik.” (Thank you.)

“In k’áatech.” (I love you.) He breathed out.

“Huh?”

“Mixba’al.” (You’re welcome.) He spoke up as his blush deepened.

“Ah.” Okoye laughed softly as she looked away.

“That was a brilliant presentation you two! Thank you for volunteering to share first.” Namor beamed at them.

“Thank Attuma.” She jutted a thumb at the General before taking the mural from him. “I just wanted some art for my home.”

Attuma watched her quietly, drinking in all the joy that crossed her face before looking at his king with wide eyes when he snapped his fingers.

He arched a brow before realizing he was gawking at Okoye again.

Namor only shook his head as Attuma retreated and chuckled. “Alright, who’s next?”

The End

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mamajankyy · 1 year ago

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Attoye Week snippet anyone?

This is from a lil sumn sumn I whipped up for Day 4: Freestyle. Hope you like it! ♡

Summary: Attuma and Okoye have the day off and they plan to spend it at home, because downtime at the same time is rare.

:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

"That can't be who I think it is" Attuma mumbled, a sleepy husk controlling the timbre of his voice.

Okoye groaned in response, further hiding in the tent his long flowing hair pitched. "If we remain still they'll have no choice but to accept defeat and leave," she said, nuzzling her face into his neck.

He scoffed incredulously "Leave? Accept defeat? We are talking about Aneka and Nakia.. the very definitions of bullheaded a-"

"Alright Shark-" she cut him off and pulled away to catch his eyes, feigning a warning tone to stave off the laugh that was building in her chest.

It was no secret that Attuma despised anyone who disrupted his rest: especially on days off.

This morning it seemed that he had sharpened his tongue in a way that was much like hers.

But that didn't mean he could speak so freely about her sisters.

Maybe she was corrupting the blue man?..oh well.

"Unless you plan on letting them in they have no other choice" Okoye offered.

Attuma had no rebuttal so he settled back into his pillow with a quiet huff. Okoye chuckled at his antics and began pressing languid kisses against the hollows of his throat. She lazily massaged his scalp in an attempt to lull him back to dreamland. Once again undermining the effects she had on him.

"If you continue that, they'll be running from our door for different reasons." He rasped.

The hand that was stationed at the base of Okoye's spine traveled down and over the curve of her cheeks, until it was settled under, and his palms were full with the cuff of her bare bottom.

"Ah ah!-" She popped his hand and removed it before he was able to try anything further "I am going back to sleep and so are you" muttering under her breath as she turned over and pulled his arm over her chest. She unintentionally wiggled her behind against his groin trying to get comfortable.

Her tortuous actions caused Attuma to clench his eyes shut and mentally curse whoever decided to not only interrupt his slumber but also bestow him with such a sexy sadist. A severe tongue click and mutters of his own were what Okoye heard as she drifted off to sleep.

#attoye week snippet #fluff #attoye week #attuma x okoye #attoye #attoye fanfic #attuma #okoye #black panther wakanda forever

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pilesofpillows · 2 years ago

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Stars Aglow Ch. 1 || Okoye x Attuma

A Sea of Stars ~ Part 3 of 3

Summary: It's finally time... Okoye & Attuma are going to be parents

Warnings: Fluff, Family Feels, Pregnancy, Childbirth

Tags: @theeblackmedusa @xblackreader @iccedays @mamajankyy @ariyannah @sphinx81 @karimk2 @xenokattz

A/N: This took too long to write and it had to be split into two parts... Part 1 is just some family feels and then Part 2 will welcome the babies.

A Sea of Stars:

Part I - Stars Within

Part II - Stars Abound

Okoye shifted against Attuma, trying to gain a bit more comfort in the hammock strung across their patio. At nearly 34 weeks pregnant, no position was truly comfortable for long, but she didn’t want to move. Post-nap cuddling had become an essential part of their routine at some indeterminate point during her pregnancy, and she wouldn’t get up unless absolutely necessary. Attuma lay behind her, the big spoon to her little, sheltering her in his broad frame. He had one strong arm slung across her waist, hand resting low on her protruding belly, the other bent at the elbow, acting as a pillow for her head.

She sighed deeply, cozy and content in the evening breeze, and pressed her head back into his chest. Her hand came to rest on her upper left side, pushing gently on the small foot that had taken its daily residence between her ribs.

“Molo, mncinane. [Hello, little one.].” she whispered, rubbing small circles over her ribcage. Her other children moved within her, a swift kick causing her to grimace and groan quietly.

“Are you well, in yakunaj?” Attuma asked, sitting up slightly.

“Mhm. Just one of your stars giving their daily hello,” Okoye replied, placing her hand atop his. She interlocked their fingers and squeezed gently to reassure him.

Attuma worried more than a mother duck as her time came closer. It was sweet, if a little stifling. But she wasn’t going to complain. Carrying three children was no simple feat, but Attuma’s steadfast love and attentive care made even the hardest days feel light.

He moved their hands back up to her side, murmuring his own greeting. A reciprocal push against his palm and the flutter of movement across her abdomen made her laugh as their children responded enthusiastically to the sound of their father’s rumbling timber. She could feel Attuma’s proud smile, and her heart swelled with affection for the Talokanil general. Okoye could easily admit to loving these little moments most of all. Bast knew there weren’t enough words to properly articulate how deep her love ran, but she tried to express it anyway.

She pressed a kiss to the cerulean forearm beneath her head. “I love you,” she whispered against his warm skin.

Attuma pressed a long kiss to the top of her head, returning the sentiment in the same hushed whisper. He slid their entwined hands across her bump, rubbing wide circles, and began humming a quiet lullaby. The tune was familiar by now, taught to him by his mother, and he used it to soothe the excited flutters of their little stars. His dulcet notes, combined with the gentle sway of their hammock, nearly lulled her into another nap. They lay in their little bubble of peace, basking in the warmth of the setting sun, until her kimoyo beads chimed, alerting her to the hour.

Okoye untwined her and Attuma’s fingers, pressing a bead to turn off the quiet alarm. Attuma wrapped both arms around her, cradling her gently as he sat them up. He pulled her onto his lap and swung his legs to the ground in one fluid motion that made her more than a bit jealous of his grace. At this stage in her pregnancy, she had all the finesse of a baby hippo.

“Would you like to go for another walk before dinner, in K’iino’?” Attuma asked, shifting her forward to massage the ever-present ache in her lower back.

Okoye bit back a moan, bracing her hands on her knees as his thumbs began working firm circles on the strained muscles. There truly were not enough words to express her gratitude to every deity for this man. Leaning back into the massage, Okoye made a disaffected noise at the question. She was not interested in going on another walk before dinner. They would, of course, but she was decidedly unenthused at the prospect.

Beautiful as this pregnancy had been, she could say with firm resolution that she was done. It was time for her children to make their way into the world. Sooner rather than later, if she was being honest. Still, Okoye had reservations about medically inducing, so her doctor gave them a list of things that would hopefully encourage her body to begin the process naturally.

They tried everything. Massages, sex, acupressure, exercise, more sex, different foods and teas, and even nipple stimulation, which, invariably, led to more sex. She wasn’t complaining, of course. Attuma certainly wasn’t inconvenienced by their efforts. But Okoye was tired. She needed these babies out.

Everything and everyone was ready for the trio’s arrival.

The nursery was complete, an easy mix of Wakandan and Talokanil cultures with enough clothes and gifts Okoye was sure her children wouldn’t actually be able to use. The go-bag Ayo bought for them had been by the front door for the last three weeks, packed with color-coordinated outfits sewn by, Yoltzin, Attuma’s mother, and the matching blankets her mother had woven and embroidered. Nakia and Toussaint had returned to Wakanda last month, and Shuri had designed and built a hi-tech birthing chamber at the palace, retrofitted with every gadget and monitor she could pack in. The princess had also created an entire AI protocol to alert everyone in their family when her time came, Attuma’s family included. Not that it was necessary. Namora and Yoltzin called nightly, determined not to miss a single moment of her pregnancy.

They were all waiting on the babies. And Okoye was doing everything in her power to get them out - which included going on two or three short walks every day, per Dr. Langeni’s orders.

“Just along the riverbank, yeah?” Okoye said, groaning loudly when he hit a particularly sore knot, her eyes fluttering shut. “I’m not interested in receiving more parenting advice today.” The aunties at the marketplace were always ready with a litany of things she should and should not be doing, stopping her every few meters to offer unsolicited advice. Okoye blinked and swung her legs out, catching sight of her swollen ankles. She sighed, “And I don’t want to wear shoes.”

Attuma huffed a laugh and effortlessly shifted her into a bridal hold, standing so he could set her on her feet. “Whatever you desire, in K’iino’.”

He held Okoye’s waist, allowing her to steady herself against his solid frame. In another life, her pride would’ve been bruised at the amount of help she required these days. But being with Attuma was different. He never made her feel less than for needing him, and Okoye trusted him to bolster her weak places and shield her vulnerabilities. Even with all the history she and W’Kabi shared, things had never come this simply. There was always a fight to be had or a compromise to be negotiated. Her relationship with Attuma had an ease she’d never experienced before, and even when she didn’t need his help, she wanted it.

Here, with him, there was no bruised pride or wounded egos to be had. Only love, deep and abiding.

She tilted her head up to kiss him gently, thanking him, and grabbed his hand, entwining their fingers in the same manner as their souls. “Come on, Indoda Krebe. Let’s see if we can convince your pups to make an appearance today.”

~~~

They returned from their walk to find a delicious aroma filling the house and her mother bustling about in their kitchen, not an uncommon sight these past few months. She had temporarily moved from her home at the Border into an apartment in Birnin Zana, a quick five-minute train ride from Okoye’s own, and had insisted on coming over at least three times a week to help. Her “help” mostly meant cooking too much food and stuffing the triplets’ nursery with more toys and clothes than three babies needed, but Okoye appreciated her all the same. They’d invited her to stay in the house with them, of course; Okoye had two extra bedrooms aside from her own and the nursery, but her mother insisted that she needed her own space. Okoye suspected it was to hide whatever unnecessary purchases she made in the name of spoiling her yet-unborn grandchildren.

“Hi, umama,” she called, drying her feet on the mat by her kitchen door. Attuma followed in after her, activating the overhead sonic dryer to avoid getting water on the floors after his dip in the river.

“Hello, intombi, unyana,” her mother smiled from behind the island.

Okoye waddled over, greeting her mother with a kiss on the cheek, resting her head on her shoulder. She inhaled deeply, peering down at the covered pot simmering on the stove. “Smells good; what’s for dinner?”

Her mother chuckled and kissed her forehead. “Oxtails.”

Okoye’s eyes lit up. “Ooh, does it have-”

“Cassava? Ewe kunjal [Yes, of course], ntombi,” she replied with a smirk. “I wouldn’t dare deprive you of your beloved starch.”

Behind them, Attuma laughed. “Thank Chaac for your forethought, Mama. I fear K’iino’ wouldn’t survive a day without her medicinal potatoes.”

Okoye turned and cut her eyes at him. “Keep it up, and you can sleep on the couch, krebe.” She walked around her mother to the fridge, opening it to grab two water bottles.” I have a body pillow that does everything you can,” she snarked, holding one out to him.

“I doubt that, in yakunaj,” he retorted, snagging her wrist instead of the bottle. Tugging her into his arms, he ducked his head to whisper in her ear. “In wojel ba’ax ma’ je’el chup teech jach ma’alob bey in polla. [I know it cannot fill you as well as my cock.].”

“Yeka!” she hissed through grit teeth, swatting his arm.

He chortled and kissed her wrist, cracking open his water bottle and swapping with her. Okoye rolled her eyes and took the bottle, sipping the cold water slowly. She ambled over to the dinner table, easing down, and asked her mother when the food would be ready.

“If you two can manage to keep your hands off of each other, we can sit for dinner in 10 minutes,” she responded, unimpressed by their antics.

Attuma slid next to her mother and wrapped an arm around her. “Ndixolele [Forgive me], Mama,” he said, fixing her with his most charming smile, dimples on full display. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Her mother was no more immune to his charm than Okoye was, and she pinched his dimpled cheek with a grin, instructing him to set the table for six. It seemed they were expecting company, and she had a good idea of who would be in attendance. The timely chime of the doorbell, followed by the sound of shuffling feet in her foyer, confirmed her thoughts.

“Hello? Is anyone home?” Nakia’s voice called loudly from the entryway.

The quick patter of little feet announced her nephew’s arrival, and Toussaint rushed down the hall before his mother. He skid to a stop at Okoye’s knees. “Umakazi!” he cried excitedly, throwing his arms around her neck.

“Oh!” Okoye beamed, wrapping the young boy in her arms as much as possible. “Molo, intsini yam encinci! [Hello, my little laugh!].”

Toussaint released her neck and stood between her legs, both hands on her belly. “Hello, babies,” he greeted softly. His gap-toothed grin lit up his face, reminding Okoye of a young T’Challa greeting Shuri the same way while the Queen was pregnant.

Nakia sauntered into view, dropping two bags on the sofa out of her sight before coming over to hug her quickly, ignoring the suspicious look Okoye shot her way. She floated into the kitchen, greeting her mother and Attuma in turn, and grabbed plates to help set the table. Toussaint wiggled out of her arms and climbed on the chair next to her, waiting for the perfect opportunity to pounce on her beloved. As his mother and uncle rounded the kitchen island, her nephew leaped from the chair.

“Uncle ‘Tuna!” The boy shouted, all giggles as Attuma caught him deftly in one arm, shifting the basket of injera bread to the other.

“Hello, chan báalam [little jaguar],” he greeted warmly, pressing his forehead against Toussaint’s.

Attuma set the bread basket on the table and took Toussaint back into the kitchen to greet her mother, who showered him with kisses just as she used to with T’Challa. Her heart twinged at the sound of his young voice calling her “umakhulu!” knowing he would never truly know his grandparents. Okoye blinked back the tears that threatened to overwhelm her. T’Challa had them, and that would be enough.

“So,” Okoye said, clearing her throat, “how many bibs did you buy today? Or is it onesies this time?” She smiled at Nakia, who finished laying out their flatware.

Nakia stopped short and opened her mouth to deny any such bib purchases but was stopped short by the sound of the doorbell again.

“You’d better still be pregnant, sisi!” Shuri’s voice rang as she glided into the house.

“I am still very much pregnant, Shuri,” Okoye replied, rolling her eyes playfully.

“Good.” The lanky woman-child slung her arms over Okoye’s shoulders, resting her chin on her head. “I’m upgrading the filtration and drainage systems of the Amnio tonight, so my nieces need to stay put.”

Attuma set Toussaint down and fixed Shuri with a challenging smirk. “Your nephews will come in Ix Chel’s time. But I would suggest that you cease making updates to your Amnio. In K’iino’s time is almost upon us.”

“Auntie’s gonna have the babies soon?” Toussaint asked, staring up at Attuma.

“Yes, chan báalam. If not this week, then the next. You will soon have cousins.”

The boy smiled, giddy at the prospect. T’Challa didn’t quite understand that the babies wouldn’t be able to play for a while, but his excitement was a delight.

Her mother came out of the kitchen, setting the pot of oxtails on the table with a wide smile amid the ongoing chatter. Okoye mirrored her expression as she gazed around the table at her family. They were missing a few members, but this was her family. Her eyes locked with Attuma’s, and he smiled softly at her.

Their family.

She couldn’t wait to welcome their children into it.

Ch. 2 • Ch. 3

#attoye #attuma x okoye #okoye x attuma #okoye x attuma fanfiction #fluffy fluff #family feels #attuma loves his wife #okoye loves her husband #they ain't even married #hammock naps are lit #kioni is so very sick of them #pilesofpillows #a sea of stars

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imthataliensuperstar · 2 years ago

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okoye running her fingers through attuma’s hair while he’s sleeping

#attuma #wakanda forever #attuma x you #black panther wakanda forever #attuma x reader #attuma imagine #attuma smut #attuma x okoye #alex livinalli #attoye #okoye #okoye x reader #danai gurira #general okoye #talokan #attuma of talokan #attuma thirst post #mcu fluff #marvel

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tvreadsandsleep · 2 years ago

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» Domestic!Attoye || Attoye Prompt Drabbles || Master List «

Every time Attuma entered Okoye’s body it felt like returning home—no matter where their coupling took place: on the beach at midnight, a public sauna when no one was around, or even, one adventurous evening, in the throne room after everyone had been dismissed from a tedious council meeting (for which their presence had been demanded).

The way her slippery wet walls cushioned and massaged his cock was enough to obliterate any of the day’s small annoyances and chase away, at least temporarily, his more profound troubles. It was as though he was being immersed in her love—especially when her arms gathered around him, her thighs cuddled him close and her face pressed into his—their bodies as tightly connected as humanly possible.

Had he the option, he would have crawled inside her skin, compressing himself to be kept cocooned by her flesh and surrounded by her being. That was an impossibility, though, and, in all sincerity, he cherished moving through life by her side. Her affection, tenderness and devotion were blessings he never planned on squandering.

Waking up beside her each morning gave him the added strength to take on the day. Being apart from her as they performed their duties and completed their tasks was made easier, with the knowledge, that at the end he would return to her. And, concluding their night encased in her body—in any way she allowed, after having shared their day’s experiences—made him eager for first light, to do it all again.

Edited to add: Shout out to @xblackreader and her post where I got the idea for Attoye sexing in the throne room.

#okoye x attuma #attuma x okoye #attoye #okoye #attuma #mywriting #attoyedailyprompt #domesticattoye #this was supposed to be smut but turned to fluff instead #i'm not sure how i feel about that #or this #but it's done #black panther #wakanda forever

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chaoticcatbunny · 1 year ago

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Multiverse_chaos AO3

Masterlist

Completed Works:

Oneshots-

Growing Pains (BPWF): https://archiveofourown.org/works/45022414 Rated: G

Soulmates (BPWF): https://archiveofourown.org/works/46434328 Rated: M

Eyes on Me (BPWF): https://archiveofourown.org/works/46867267 Rated: E

My Blood, My Soul (BPWF): https://archiveofourown.org/works/48432094 Rated: G

My Omega (BPWF): https://archiveofourown.org/works/48828244 Rated: T

Cafes and Love Songs (BPWF): https://archiveofourown.org/works/48853210 Rated: T

You Saved Me from Hell (BPWF): https://archiveofourown.org/works/48914614 Rated: E

Are You Crazy?! (BPWF): https://archiveofourown.org/works/49010368 Rated: M

Lazy Sunday (BPWF): https://archiveofourown.org/works/49164049 Rated: G

Regret Eats the Soul (BPWF): https://archiveofourown.org/works/49304356 Rated: M

Can We Try That Again? (BPWF): https://archiveofourown.org/works/49349137 Rated: T

Sink Your Teeth into Something Holy (BPWF): https://archiveofourown.org/works/49373233 Rated: T

Stay and Cuddle with Me (BPWF): https://archiveofourown.org/works/49397203 Rated: T

To Love a Teacher (BPWF): https://archiveofourown.org/works/49420009 Rated: T

Till My Last Breath (BPWF): https://archiveofourown.org/works/49442767 Rated: T

The Woman in the Sea (BPWF): https://archiveofourown.org/works/49465672 Rated: T

The Underworld and Spring (BPWF): https://archiveofourown.org/works/49496779 Rated: T

Reminiscing the Past (BPWF): https://archiveofourown.org/works/50333056 Rated: T

Don't Say It (BPWF): https://archiveofourown.org/works/50469313 Rated: E

Through the Mirror (BPWF): https://archiveofourown.org/works/50517694 Rated: E

Make You Mine (BPWF): https://archiveofourown.org/works/50548057 Rated: E

Scent Blockers and Heat (BPWF): https://archiveofourown.org/works/50577352 Rated: E

Ropes and Toys (BPWF): https://archiveofourown.org/works/50602705 Rated: E

Candles Aren't Just for Decoration (BPWF): https://archiveofourown.org/works/50628742 Rated: E

Long Distance Fun (BPWF): https://archiveofourown.org/works/50653843 Rated: E

Feed on Lust (BPWF): https://archiveofourown.org/works/50687932 Rated: E

How Long Can You Last? (BPWF): https://archiveofourown.org/works/50707534 Rated: E

The Warriors and the Godking (BPWF): https://archiveofourown.org/works/50740750 Rated: E

A Different Kind of Throne (BPWF): https://archiveofourown.org/works/50768110 Rated: E

Knife + Adrenaline = Sex (BPWF): https://archiveofourown.org/works/50842588 Rated: E

Did He Just Do That? (BPWF): https://archiveofourown.org/works/50843770 Rated: E

Drive Me Insane (BPWF): https://archiveofourown.org/works/50892724 Rated: E

Behave, Little Lamb (BPWF): https://archiveofourown.org/works/50945446 Rated: E

Dancing in the Living Room (MacGyver, 2016): https://archiveofourown.org/works/51182017 Rated: T

The Lust of a God (BPWF): https://archiveofourown.org/works/51526240 Rated: E

Multichapter-

Strengthening the Alliance (BPWF): https://archiveofourown.org/works/44524090/chapters/111991342 Chapters: 12, Rated: E

Various Male Characters x Female Reader Smut (multi- fandom): https://archiveofourown.org/works/46310926/chapters/116594665 Chapters: 22, Rated: E

You're My Fate (BPWF): https://archiveofourown.org/works/48876073/chapters/123299197 Chapters: 2, Rated: M

Cartels and Omegas Don't Mix (Narcos: Mexico): https://archiveofourown.org/works/49619566/chapters/125237029 Chapters: 2, Rated: E

This is a masterlist of all of my completed works on AO3, if you have any questions or want anything specific my asks are open just please be nice. I'll do a masterlist of my AO3 WIPs soon.

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sharonrb · 1 year ago

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@attoye-week, Day 3: Fluff/Comedy

Taglist

@tallulahchanel

@skysynclair19

@misslackey

@dillie60

@pikapuff-316

@christina831

@attoye-week

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attoye · 1 year ago

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IM CRYING

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Black Panther (Marvel Movies), Attoye - Fandom

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Attuma of Talokan/Okoye (Marvel)

Characters: Okoye (Marvel), Attuma of Talokan (Marvel), Original Characters, Aneka of the Dora Milaje (Marvel), Namora of Talokan (Marvel)

Additional Tags: Past Relationship(s), Single Parents, Human!Attuma, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Slow Burn, No Smut, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Domestic Fluff, Step-parents, In-Laws, nosy family, W’kabi a dickhead as usual, Aneka is a nutcase

Series: Part 1 of From Line to Living

Summary:

Attuma meets a baby.

DINNER IS SERVED 🥘

@pilesofpillows @xblackreader @theeblackmedusa @theemfingmenace @tvreadsandsleep @karimk2 @siancore @neptoons1998 @mamajankyy @chottopoco @sharonrb

#omfg #step daddy attuma #ftw #attoye #fanfiction #fluff #x black reader

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cyb3rscoups · 2 years ago

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Personal Space

A/N: Attuma doesn't believe in personal space when Okoye is around. Pure fluff in this one.

Personal Space on Ao3

She could be doing some of the simplest things. Whether she was preparing dinner or sitting by her fireplace, Attuma was right under her nose.

He didn’t think space between them was necessary. Therefore, he gave her none. His hand was always resting somewhere on her body, his fingers tracing her skin so lightly that it tickled.

“Attuma, I can’t focus with you right over my shoulder.” Okoye huffed as she turned the page of her book.

Attuma simply scoffed, nuzzling his face further into her neck as he leaned over the back of the couch. “You smell good.” He’d grumble as she pressed a hand to his cheek and forced him away.

“You can still smell me from Talokan. You and your advanced nostrils.” The woman smiled, blowing him a kiss as he rounded the couch to sit beside her.

His legs spread wide, a conscious attempt to feel her legs rub against his. “Attuma.”

“What? I haven’t done anything.” He says as his hand brushes her thigh.

“You are being a pest.”

“Say you don’t love it and I’ll stop. Hm?”

Her side eye was lethal as he smirked in her peripheral. “I will gut you.”

“I look forward to it, darling.” Attuma reached over, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her onto his lap. “What is your book about?”

He grabbed the piece of literature from her hands with skeptical eyes. Okoye chuckled, tangling her hands in his hair and tugging it back.

“How to get rid of a shark.”

#attuma #attoye #attoye fanfic #alex livinalli #attuma x okoye #black panther #wakanda forever #danai gurira #mcu okoye #okoye x attuma #black panther wakanda forever #love domestic shit #fluff #attoye fluff

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xblackreader · 1 year ago

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a mother's love: okoye's version

1.2k+ words | attoye | warnings: none, just cute

attuma x okoye fluff - ft. tadeas, xyanza, nobomi, yolotli, and kuhle...

“The joy of motherhood comes in moments. There will be hard times and frustrating times. But amid the challenges, there are shining moments of joy and satisfaction.” - Okoye

As children, our first experiences of love and comfort often come from the embrace of our mothers.

She was warm and safe. Her embrace was like a soft cloud that cushioned me from any worries or fears. Even as a teenager, when the challenges of life grew more complex and demanding, there were still moments when I sought solace in my mother's embrace.

Tadeas slinks onto his parent's room, all over six feet and almost two hundred pounds of him. “Umama…” he laments, uncharacteristically. He’s sixteen years old and he’s tired from training; he wants his mother. And as he slides his feet over the hardwood floor and groans, his mother kisses her teeth and shakes her head.

Okoye pulls her glasses down her nose and looks up from her book. “Yes? Are you okay?” Her son doesn’t respond just comes to stand over her as she looks him up and down. He stands there, simply watching her for a moment with half-lidded eyes and a frown. “Tad-“

WHOMPH! Suddenly her massive son flopped on top of her and envelops his mother in a full-body bear hug. “Ah! No! You’re too big for this! Too old to sit on my lap! Tadeas! Stop- ATTUMA!”

Her book and her last read pages are lost in the scuffle.

Minutes later…

Tadeas leaned into his mother's touch, feeling the warmth and love radiating from her as she pressed gentle kisses onto his cheeks and forehead. Her hands, calloused from years of battle, now softened as they caressed his face, offering comfort and solace.

Okoye rubs her hands over his face, pressing kisses into his cheeks and forehead while her youngest daughters all crowd to ask about her day. They came to her aid since her husband was not home. But they couldn’t move their brother. “You need your sister to retwist your hair.”

Her son huffed and pushed one of his younger sisters off the bed when she slapped him with her tiny hand. “Xyanza is mad at me.” Okoye kissed her teeth. “You are always upsetting her. Xyanza!”

After a groan and a few moments, her oldest daughter, Xyanza, appears snickering at her brother’s antics. “I can’t move him. Sorry, mama.”

“That’s not what I need, will you please retwist his hair?”

“No.”

A mother’s look. “Pardon me?”

Xyanza pouts and tries again. “He was rude to me today. I don’t want to.”

Okoye smacks her son's back and he groans again. “Were you rude to my daughter?”

“Uh…”

Earlier…

Sitting at the family table, Tadeas sighed and leaned back against the kitchen chair, feeling a mix of frustration and vulnerability. Being a sixteen-year-old boy was no easy task on its own, but especially when you were the son of the Warrior Okoye of the Border Tribe and the General of Talokan Attuma.

Tadeas had always felt the weight of his mixed heritage and the expectations that came with his ancestors, struggling to find his place in both worlds. As the son of two generals in-

“Big freaking deal…” His twin sister scoffed, reading his diary over his shoulder. “Need I remind you, I am also their child?... and you make it more complicated than it needs to be.” She playfully stuck her tongue out at her brother when he glared at her.

“It’s different. I am the oldest ,” He snarked.

“By like, fourteen minutes.”

“Meaning I’m fourteen minutes smarter than you.” He snarled at his sister, turning back to his journal. “Besides I’m the one child they have that matters. I have more responsibility, dipshit.”

Xyanza put her hands on her hips and started to cut up a piece of fruit for her to eat a snack. “Whatever. Can you go be stinky somewhere else?”

“You don't own this kitchen. And I was here first, so you can leave especially since you smell like shit.”

“I smell good! You look homeless!”

He doesn’t answer so she pinches his cheek until her triplets begin to giggle and pinch him as well. He groans and flings the little triplets away from him. They complain about how fat he is until he smacks at them to go away and leave him with his mother.

“She was being stupid.” “See, Mommy?!”

Another slap is administered to his back and he tightens his arms around his mother’s waist, ignoring her entirely.

“Apologize to your sister at once. It’s ridiculous I must tell you this at sixteen years old!”

“She’s always rude to me.” Okoye kisses her teeth.

“Not my baby girl. Apologize for being rude to her.” She runs her hands through his locs, even when they’re demons she can’t help but adore everything they do. They are fruits of her labor, how could she not love them?

“...Sorry, Xyanza.”

Okoye cooed when he hid his face in her stomach and tried to rest again. It reminded her of when he was a baby…

“Please do his hair, my lovely girl. He has a training seminar coming up that he has to lead.” She licks a thumb and straightens his eyebrows. He makes a face just like his father. “He won’t embarrass me looking like a lost tribe rapper.”

“His apology was pathetic! He didn’t even mean it.”

Okoye bit back a sigh. With five stubborn children in her home that’s all she could do. That’s what she gets for picking a stubborn man.

Or maybe this was retribution for how Okoye treated her mother as a teenager…

“How do you know he didn’t mean it?” “I didn’t.” “Tadeas!” She hisses at him, but there’s only so much to be done about his smart mouth.

Xyanza glares toward him, then walks out of the room grumbling under her breath.

The front door opens and then the cloth moves as they hear metal hit the ground with heavy footsteps.

“Daddy!” One of the triplets, Nobomi, cries. Yolotli follows suit and the three girls begin to chant and file out of the room.

As Attuma steps through the threshold of his home and sheds his armor at the entrance, he is immediately greeted by the sight of his three daughters running to embrace him with open arms. Okoye hears him grunt a few times as they undoubtedly have jumped into his arms and made him carry them.

“Your father will come and free me,” Okoye whispers to her son, tickling his neck as he grunts annoyed. She giggles then watches the entrance of the room.

Attuma walks into their bedroom moments later with three daughters hanging off his shoulders. Tired but smiling and Okoye smiles back.

He looks down at his son who is holding his wife hostage.

“Get off my woman.”

“...No.”

Okoye laughs at them both and smacks Attuma’s hand away when he reaches to push Tadeas off. “He’s tired…”

Attuma smirked, laughing at his son grunting in displeasure from being pushed. “I am more tired than he is. And he has his own bed.”

Tadeas’ shirt is gripped in the back and he’s suddenly lifted. The girls hanging off Attuma like Barnacles ooh and ahh.

He’s wrenched from his mother's embrace despite his scrambling to stay in place and flopped onto the foot of the bed. Grumbling about his father being unfair, he stands slowly and stretches his arms up.

They all watch with unimpressed faces as he lets out a loud yell that scared his sisters and then walks out of the room.

Okoye snorts and then sighs, picking her book back up. “Thank you, Attu-“

WHOMPH! And her even bigger husband takes his son's place on top of her. He falls asleep immediately and there’s nothing she can do.

“You massive IDIOT!”

“There’s no way to be a perfect mother and a million ways to be a good one. In my darkest moments, I clung to my mother.”

Her oldest triplet, Yolotli rested her ear on Mama’s stomach while the other children sank around her, stealing their mother's warmth while their father prepared them dinner.

“Mama?” She whispered.

Okoye carded her hands through her oldest daughter's hair and scratched at her only son's back, they both faded to sleep quickly in their mother's arms. They all kept her so warm, inside and out.

“Do I have to be pregnant too?”

Okoye snorted and shook her head, “You do not, my love.” Xyanza laughed from her place at her mother’s feet as well.

“How do I avoid it? It seems to always happen to you…” Tadeas wheezes in laughter then.

“Because Baba has no sense or restraint- OW!” He is pinched on his ear and his mother purses her lips. “Who taught you to be so disrespectful?” “You!”

Okoye kisses her teeth and shakes her head and her giggling children. She turned back to her daughter and rolled her eyes toward her son. Yolotli nods, though she doesn't understand why they are doing this; she just does what Mama says.

The mother of five, but soon be of six, felt the offspring in her womb kick at this conversation, a strong and powerful kick that reminded her of whom she was married to…

“Stay away from men. Especially the tall handsome ones with a sweet tongue.”

“They made you pregnant?”

“No!” Attuma huffs from the other room, deciding to intervene since her mother was giggling. “You will not even think of that for fifty years!”

Okoye rolls her eyes. “What about when they get partners?” She yelled back at him.

“No boyfriends or girlfriends. No dating until marriage.”

“You’re ridiculous! My children, you may date when we approve of the person and deem it appropriate.”

Their daughter pouted, settling in the empty space glued to her mother’s side. “Yuum will never approve… that’s why Xyanza is still single…” Xyanza whips her head around to stare incredulously at her sister. “Oh, it’s like that? Yu’um scares off all the men!”

“That’s right!”

“Attuma, be quiet!”

…

This is them :3 and heres where you can learn more about ‘em

And here’s where you can read my lil domestic fic with the attoye fam

#black panther #attuma x okoye #okoye x attuma #attoye #marvel #attuma #okoye #black panther wakanda forever #x black reader #black women #tadeas #xyanza #attoye kids #attoye week #alex livinalli #danai gurira #fluff #fanfiction

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mamajankyy · 2 years ago

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🗣️CALLING ALL ATTOYE LOVERS

Here’s an Attoye Au where Okoye is teaching African History and Attuma is a Marine Biology major.

I listened to this song a lot while writing, hence the title.

Here are some visuals from the first date:

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mickimomo · 2 years ago

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I kinda imagined her smiling like this:

Attuma x Okoye HC The Talokanil callings.

Somebody made a HC that Attuma can hear whales,yes? And how they sing and communicate? And Attuma/ Talokanil have that ability as well.

SO. During the water dance/ training that Attuma suggested for Okoye to do. Okoye bring this up casually with Shuri that Talokanil can do this and she wonders how it would sound in the water with the whales and everything. Which spurs Shuri’s curiosity. She's hounding Namor about this and everything. A month or two go by. Shuri crafts water hearing devices that also act as plugs so water don't go into the ear canals. TLDR: super hearing devices.

She asks Okoye to test them out and of course she does when she's out in the sea with Attuma. She doesn't mention this to Attuma until later on. And Attuma tells her about a pod whales that are nearby. Okoye is able to witness first hand Attuma singing to whales and then able to hear the whales answer him back not even a few minutes later.

I think this would be the moment that Attuma sees that genuine smile on her face, the love for nature and animals etc.

The way Okoye would run to tell Shuri how the buds work and she's uses them now when she swims with Attuma too.

#attuma x okoye #okoye x attuma #headcanon #fluff #attoye hc #attoye #okoye #attuma

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pilesofpillows · 2 years ago

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Stars Aglow Ch. 3 || Okoye x Attuma

A Sea of Stars ~ Part 3 of 3

Ch. 1 • Ch. 2

Summary: Babies.

Warnings: Semi-Graphic Depictions of Childbirth, An Excessive Amount of Fluff, Seriously... I Hope Y'all Got Good Dental Insurance, And Tissues

Tags: @mamajankyy @theeblackmedusa @theemfingmenace @xenokattz @tvreadsandsleep @ariyannah @iccedays @xblackreader @blissdoutbyattuma @karimk2 @umber-cinders @mickimomo @dontruinmymorning @princess-of-gondor

A/N 1: Pinky swears are very serious things that I take very seriously. This chapter is a behemoth of nearly 5k words... ridiculous.

A/N 2: Massive, huge, ridiculous, enormous thank you to @xenokattz for all your help!! Love you forever 💕💕💕

The Amnio was brilliant.

When she’d first told them about it, Shuri had made it out to be a simple birthing chamber, but it was far more than that. She had converted an entire floor on the lower level of the Citadel’s residential tower into a birthing suite of dreams, complete with an operating room, a miniature neonatal ICU, and a near-exact replica of Okoye’s upstairs apartment with an added nursery for their post-delivery stay.

The main space was wide and cavernous, with a wall of windows that allowed the sun to illuminate the room and provided an incomparable view of the night sky. At its center was a circular in-ground pool with a series of wide ledges that helped accommodate varying depths within the water. Four holographic displays lined half of the pool, one for each baby and the last for her, their vitals being monitored by the patches affixed to her stomach.

Okoye kneeled on the second step below the outer ledge of the pool, her forearms folded across her mother’s knees as she breathed heavily, panting through the latest contraction. She’d been in the water for hours now, the night dragging on as her body prepared to deliver her children into the world. Her head was bowed, resting on her arms, her face twisted in a grimace as the labor pains reached a new height. Attuma kneeled behind her, massaging her submerged lower back and stomach while her mother cradled her head, murmuring words of comfort. Nakia and Ayo bracketed her mother, both coaxing her through breathing exercises in soft voices.

Nakia’s fingers entangled with hers. “You’re almost there, usisi. So close now.”

Okoye did not feel close. Each contraction felt like an hours-long battle, challenging everything she thought she knew about pain. What started as a dull ache in her lower back rose to a roaring fire as her muscles constricted tightly, stealing the breath from her lungs. She fought to regulate her breathing, exhaling forcefully in a loud groan.

“Good, intombi,” Her mother praised, dabbing the sweat from her brow. “You’re doing so good. It won’t be much longer.”

She heard Ixtli and the nurses who’d accompanied her singing beneath the water, a wordless melody of highs and lows in time with the waves of pain crashing over her. Attuma and Namora joined them, and she sighed gratefully as each note eased the sharp bite of the cramping across her lower body. Thank Chaac and Bast for Talokanil siren singers.

An early point of contention in her pregnancy had revolved around whether they would observe Wakandan or Talokanil traditions when the time for her delivery came. She and Attuma had argued relentlessly about it until Namora suggested a merger of the two traditions; Okoye would deliver their children on the surface, in the water, with a Talokanil midwife and a Wakandan obstetrician. That Namora's mother happened to be an iyom k'exelom was a happy coincidence, and Okoye couldn’t be more grateful to the woman and her melodious analgesic.

As the contraction passed, Okoye whimpered as she felt Attuma move to her left, missing his presence immediately. She pulled her fingers from Nakia’s and unfolded her arms, reaching for him desperately. Attuma leaned in close, holding her hand in his, and pressed his nose to her cheek, muttering a string of reassurances and praises in both their mother tongues.

She wanted him closer.

Ixtli surfaced, rebreathers firmly affixed to her face and gills, informing them that her body was ready. It was time to push.

She needed Attuma.

Using what little strength she had, Okoye used the stair above her and her beloved’s shoulder to support herself as she sat back on her knees.

“K’iino’?” Attuma’s voice was wary, trying to gauge her intent as he sat up with her.

“Behind me, please? I just… I need…” Okoye didn’t know how to adequately verbalize what she was feeling.

Thankfully, she didn’t have to; Attuma wrapped his arms around her, shifting them gingerly until his back was flush with the outer ledge of the pool, only their legs remaining beneath the water. Her back rested on his chest, skin-to-skin; their hearts beat in tandem, soul-to-soul.

“Good?” he whispered against her ear, and Okoye nodded, a stray tear slipping down her cheek. This was everything she wanted, everything she needed.

“Don’t leave me?” she pleaded.

“Never, in K’iino’,” came his fierce response.

Her family corralled around them. Ayo, Namora, and Shuri stood on the outer edge of the pool, each holding a different colored blanket for their corresponding godchild, ready to carry them from the water after they were born. Her mother and Nakia stood on either side of her and Attuma, grabbing her hands and helping her into a low squat.

Namora’s mother crouched between her legs, gently cradling her belly. “Are you ready, Nacom?”

Okoye gave a hoarse hum of approval and steeled herself. She was tired and terrified, but they were at the end now; the battle was almost won.

“When the pain comes again, listen to your body and bear down,” she instructed. The Talokanil midwife looked contemplative for a moment and pressed on the lower right side of her distended abdomen. “This one first, hm? He’s ready.”

Okoye wanted to question her, but the force of her contraction punched the air out of her, and she clamped her jaw shut. The urge to push came, and she did as she was told, a long groan escaping her gritted teeth as she bore down. Long agonizing seconds passed before Ixtli stopped her, letting Okoye catch her breath before commanding her to push again.

Her mother and Nakia spoke quiet words of encouragement as she labored, and she squeezed their hands as they continued on in the arduous cycle of pushing and breathing. Attuma blew softly on her head between each push, extolling her strength and courage as he urged her to keep fighting.

Ixtli ducked her head under the water quickly and resurfaced with a chuckle. “Uts ka a k'iino' yanak ti' juntúul paal il le eek'o'obo'. [It is fitting that your Sun would have one who looks to the stars.]” she said to Attuma in rapid Mayan, GRIOT translating for the room to hear.

“What- what does that mean?” Okoye asked, leaning back on Attuma’s shoulder, breathless. “Are they okay?”

“The baby is fine, General. He’s just facing the wrong way,” Dr. Langeni waded over from the fetal monitors, placing a reassuring hand on her knee as she explained. “It’ll make things a bit harder, but we’re watching carefully, and if we need to intervene, we will.” She nodded over to the wall of glass partitions on the right side of the room, behind which lay the operating room and NICU. “For now, just focus on letting your body do what it was meant to.”

Ixtli nodded, confirming her counterpart’s words, and when the next contraction struck, Okoye bore down again, her groan ending in a sharp cry as she felt the burning stretch of her son crowning.

“Dudula, Okoye!” “Yiza, emnandi, tyhala.” Nakia and her mother spoke words of encouragement, urging her to push, and squeezing her hands back as she tightened her grip on theirs.

The Talokanil nurses had resumed their song, and their voices grew in pitch as Okoye pushed again, a low scream erupting from her throat. The feeling of something giving way was followed by a rush of relief flooding her, and she collapsed against Attuma’s body. He peppered kisses onto her forehead, praising her strength and wiping the tears from the corners of her eyes. Gasps of awe and resounding echoes of praise came from everyone around them, but Okoye only had eyes for the tiny, screaming baby in Ixtli’s arms. The midwife stood and laid her son on her chest, and she instinctively cradled his small body even as the elder woman used a soft towel to wipe him down.

Her son.

Wriggling and squalling and hers.

Theirs.

Attuma’s hand rested over hers, his chin over her shoulder as they took in the new life they’d made together.

They had a son.

“Molo, mntanandini. [Hi, sweet baby.]” she whispered as his cries softened.

He was magnificent.

Ixtli wrapped her firstborn in a towel, plucking him from her chest, and passed him to Shuri, who stood ready, having swapped places with Nakia to receive her godson. Okoye smiled weakly as the princess beamed at the baby.

“Molo, mncinane,” she murmured, gathering the small boy in a yellow woven blanket, “I’m your Aunt Shuri.”

Okoye craned her neck, watching closely as her sister carried him out of the water to the designated team of nurses and doctors ready to check him over. She winced as the smarting ache washed over her, despite her rush of joy. She felt the urge to push again, and it seemed her son’s twin was more than ready to join the world.

“He will come easier; his brother has made the path clear.” Ixtli said, once again pressing on her abdomen. “Now push, child.”

Attuma sat them both up, and Nakia rejoined her, grasping her hand fiercely as her mother did the same on the opposite side, the three of them helping to support her body as she bore down yet again, and they re-entered the cyclical pattern of pushing and breathing. The singing resumed with her efforts, but the song was different this time. Through the haze, Okoye made out the words to a familiar chant from the River Tribe, sung in perfect harmony by the nurses and Namora. Even Attuma sang with them, his voice a gentle rumble against her back. Her eyes darted to Nakia, who grinned at her as they sang the steady, cadenced tune.

Letting the song strengthen her, Okoye braced herself for the next wave.

She pushed.

And groaned.

And pushed again.

A burning flash drew a harsh cry from her lips, and her second child entered the world, as quiet as his brother was loud.

She held him to her chest, marveling at his scrunched face and soft cries. He was smaller than his brother but no less wriggly.

Another son.

Perhaps Attuma was right, she thought with a tearful laugh.

Her second son settled quickly, gazing back at her with Attuma’s dark, wide eyes.

He was beautiful.

Like they did with their first, Okoye and Attuma cradled their secondborn son together. “Okoye… in yakunaj… two...” His voice was choked with emotion, but she understood perfectly what he meant.

They had children.

Two children.

Two sons.

She cooed down at him, welcoming him to the world in a hushed whisper as Ixtli wiped him down before gingerly passing her son to Namora. The Talokanil general wrapped her secondborn in a blue blanket Okoye’s mother had woven, whispering sweet words to him in Mayan. Okoye settled back against Attuma, watching as her friend carried her baby out of the water, passing him to the team of nurses and doctors waiting to ensure he was hale and healthy.

“Rest now. The next will not be so easy,” Ixtli said, drawing their attention back to her. “The youngest rarely is.” She shot a pointed look toward Namora, who scoffed from the medical bay, making Okoye laugh weakly. “Let your body work to expel the afterbirth while I consult the stars for your first two children. I will return when it is time.” She cupped Okoye’s cheeks, touching their foreheads together. “You have done well, Nacom Okoye. Chaac and Ix Chel have blessed you with the strength of a thousand warriors.”

She smiled tiredly and thanked her. The Talokanil midwife exited the pool, and Dr. Langeni followed, promising to bring an update on the children when she returned.

Okoye looked at her mother. She was crying, tears of joy, Okoye presumed, and she blinked, a few tears slipping down her own cheeks. “Don’t cry, mama.”

She reached out a hand, and her mother took it, squeezing her fingers gently. “I can’t help it, emnandi. It’s not every day a woman becomes a grandmother; I should think I’m entitled to a few tears,” her mother sniped jokingly, and they shared a quiet laugh. She leaned forward to kiss Okoye’s cheek. “Oh, I’m so proud of you, intombi. You did wonderfully.” She kissed Attuma’s cheek as well. “You both did.”

Okoye grinned, then winced slightly as her body continued laboring. The contractions were far milder than her earlier ones, and one of the Talokanil nurses rubbed her ankle in encouragement, speaking words she couldn’t understand. Attuma murmured the translated instructions and a steady stream of compliments between light kisses to her head and hair, and the afterbirth passed easily, requiring little effort on her part.

She lay in the cradle of Attuma’s arms, glancing intermittently at the medical bay where her children rested. Okoye itched to hold them, to study their faces and catalog the pieces of her and Attuma in every feature. Nakia passed her a cup of ice chips, and she shot her sister a grateful smile, chewing them carefully between her contractions. She was slightly relieved for the short rest before their third child was born. She chose not to ask how Ixtli knew there would be time between the twins and their thirdborn or how she knew her children would be boys before their birth; the woman had forgotten more about childbirth than Okoye would likely ever know.

Dr. Langeni returned and had a quick GRIOT-assisted conversation with one of the Talokanil nurses before wading over to Okoye. “Molo, umama, baba,” she said with a soft smile. “Everything is looking good; both boys are hale, healthy, and quite possibly the cutest newborns above or below the surface. You did very good,” the doctor chuckled with a wink. She pressed a button on her kimoyo beads, activating a holographic display of her womb. Her lips twisted in a frown, and she sighed. “It looks like Baby C is still transverse. Which means we have two options: we can attempt to maneuver them in hopes that they turn on their own, or we go in for a C-section now. Should they prove reticent despite the maneuvers,” she paused, arching a pointed brow at them, “we’ll have to go in surgically.”

Okoye narrowed her eyes at the implication but couldn’t argue. Be it a maternal or paternal trait, headstrong children were a given between her and Attuma, and she was already praying for the strength and patience to match wits with whichever aspects of herself would be reflected in her children.

“How long would we try the maneuvers for?” she asked, shifting against her beloved and placing a hand over the monitoring patch of her youngest.

Dr. Langeni turned to the displays outside the pool, studying the remaining monitor. “Should Baby’s heart rate remain within acceptable parameters and the placenta intact? We’ll say 20 minutes.”

Okoye nodded and glanced at Attuma, silently asking him to weigh in.

He tilted his head, looking contemplative. “It is up to you, in K’iino’. I will be by your side no matter what you choose.”

Her heart fluttered, warmth flooding through her at his words, knowing he meant them wholly. She pressed her head into his chin and considered each option before taking a fortifying breath. “Let’s try the maneuvers.”

~~~

In the darkest hours of the morning, Okoye’s youngest child finally decided to cooperate with the efforts of the medical team. They’d guided the baby downward between her contractions, firm hands pushing hard through her abdomen. She grit her teeth through every attempt and nearly regretted her choice on a particularly hard press. The Talokanil surrounding her had resumed singing the euphoric analgesic of earlier, dulling the sharp pain, and Okoye groaned, breathing heavily. Attuma blew cool breaths along her head again, providing an anchor of solace in the sea of pain, but her relief proved temporary as her muscles tightened in a fierce contraction.

Ixtli had returned shortly before they began; she and Dr. Langeni worked in tandem, the Wakandan doctor maneuvering the baby while the Talokanil midwife swam beneath her, singing a soft siren call to draw the child down. Ixtli resurfaced, a visible smile showing through her rebreather, and she proclaimed it was finally time to push. Okoye sighed gratefully, thanking the gods. Dr. Langeni gave her an encouraging smile and waded to the side of the pool with her mother, Nakia, and Ayo. Okoye slid forward, squatting low on the step below Attuma, her chest and head remaining above water. He slid his arms under hers, helping her to brace her elbows on his knees.

“One last battle, Nacom,” her iyom k’exelom said, giving her knees a reassuring squeeze, “Let us see what the dawn brings.”

The woman sank beneath the water, and Okoye sucked in a deep breath as she felt the next contraction roll into her.

She pushed hard, biting back a scream, until Ixtli squeezed her calf, commanding her to stop. She leaned against Attuma, who spoke words of comfort and praise between blowing cool breaths of air on the crown of her head, each breath meant to hasten the delivery of their child. She rested for a moment before the Talokanil midwife’s head surfaced, coaxing her to push again, and they fell into a steady rhythm: Okoye pushed, Attuma blew, and Ixtli coaxed.

Again and again, until she felt like she couldn’t anymore.

She sagged between Attuma’s legs, her head thrown back as tears ran down her face.

“Ko'ox, Bah’te. K'a'abéet a ba'ate'el! [Come on, Warrior. You must fight!]” Ixtli urged in a stern voice. “We’re nearing the end, Okoye; Yaantal a to'on jolkanil.”

Find your courage.

Bast help her; Okoye didn’t know how much she had left.

She screwed her eyes shut before opening them to meet the deep umber of Attuma’s. They shone with love and pride, and he bent to kiss her forehead. “Ngakumbi kancinci [Just a little more], in yakunaj,” he whispered against her sweat-slicked skin. “Ungayenza. [You can do it.]”

She looked into the eyes she loved beyond all measure and found her courage.

The next contraction ripped through her, and Okoye tucked her head into her chest and bore down, crying out at the searing flash of white-hot pain.

Ixtli dipped back into the water, coaxing her through a final round of pushing, their youngest child slipping free of her body as the sun broke over the horizon.

Okoye cried in relief, her body slumping from exhaustion, and Attuma hauled her into his arms. Ixtli emerged from the water, holding a small baby who began wailing seconds after tasting the air.

“A son?” she asked, a weak smile on her lips.

Ixtli grinned, a fierce, proud thing.

“The Dawn has brought you a daughter,” she proclaimed, laying the baby on her chest.

Okoye clutched the small body, her daughter, to her, blinking in shock. Faintly, she heard the excited exclamations of her family, but her focus was solely on the tiny, wailing infant on her breast. She let out a shaky breath, staring at her daughter in awe.

She had a daughter.

Okoye held her close as she screamed, wondering how one so small could make so much noise.

She put her brothers to shame.

Okoye laughed as hot tears ran down her face, gently attempting to shush the squalling infant while Ixtli cleaned her.

She was perfect.

Attuma laid a large hand on her back, nearly covering her entire body, humming the lullaby he sang throughout her pregnancy, and they marveled as she quieted almost immediately, her robust cries softening to hushed whimpers.

“K Eek'e' asab chichanen. [Our littlest star.]” Her beloved murmured, smoothing his finger over her furrowed brow.

Their youngest grizzled, nose crinkling.

“Welcome to the world, ntomba ethandekayo.”

Ixtli swaddled their daughter in a towel and placed her in Ayo’s arms, her sister-in-arms greeting the child warmly, wrapping her in the soft green blanket Okoye’s mother had woven for their third child. “Good morning, little one. Today is your birthday.”

She exited the water gracefully, speaking to the baby in full sentences, making Okoye chuckle despite her exhaustion. She watched through half-lidded eyes as the final team of nurses and doctors engulfed their baby girl. As their daughter was tended to, Attuma pressed long, tender kisses to her head, muttering an incomprehensible jumble of praise and thanks between each one.

“Óoxtúul paalal [Three children], in yakunaj,” he said into her hair. “Ts'o'ok a taasik to'on óoxp'éel… [You have brought us three…]”

“Three stars,” Okoye replied softly. “Our own little sea."

~~~

They moved her from the water to a large bed once she passed the afterbirth, and she lay reclined against Attuma, clean, changed, and content. They talked quietly with her mother and Dr. Langeni about what to expect these next few days as they waited for Ixtli, the trio, and their godmothers. Okoye’s exhaustion was bone deep, but she wouldn’t sleep a wink until she had held each of her babies. Nakia slipped into the room, having ducked out earlier to retrieve the rest of their family. She led M’Baku, Yoltzin, and Aneka in, Junior still sleeping in the early morning hours. They stood at the end of the bed, smiles abounding.

Attuma’s mother came to their bedside, pressing her forehead against Okoye’s, then Attuma’s. “Ki'imak óolal, waal. [Congratulations, daughter],” Yoltzin said, grinning brightly. These weren’t her first grandchildren, but they were her eldest son’s, and she’d been giddy with joy the moment Attuma had informed her of Okoye’s pregnancy. She rounded the bed to stand beside Okoye’s mother, the new grandmothers embracing each other.

“Three babies in one night! You truly are Wakanda’s greatest warrior,” M’Baku smiled proudly, gently squeezing her ankle through the bedding. “Where are the little shark pups?”

His question was answered by the sliding door, and Ixtli entered the room on quiet feet with Shuri, Namora, and Ayo trailing behind her. Each woman held a brightly swaddled bundle in their arms, and they formed a line by her right bedside.

Shuri passed the baby in her arms to Ixtli, who unwrapped him slightly and placed him on the far right side of Okoye’s exposed chest. “This is your firstborn. A son who looked upon the stars as he entered the world, a war cry on his tongue. What name will you give to him?”

Okoye looked at her eldest son, whose eyes were closed as he slept peacefully, tiny brown fingers curling into her skin. The small yellow cap on his head hid most of his hair, but Okoye could see the gentle wisps that curled along his forehead. She lifted his small hand with her finger, an awed breath leaving her as he gripped it firmly.

He looked like Attuma.

Her beloved carefully traced the soft fuzzy hair of his son’s brow and answered Ixtli. “T’Khwezi Cadmael.”

The Star Chief.

Okoye heard Shuri and Yoltzin gasp quietly, and she glanced between her little sister and Attuma’s mother. Both women’s eyes were watery, and Okoye reached out, entangling her fingers with Shuri’s. She squeezed, providing a gentle reassurance, and nodded to Yoltzin. Neither T’Challa nor Cadmael would ever be forgotten; their spirits lived on through them. Shuri smiled tearfully, muttering a wet thanks before releasing her fingers, and Yoltzin hugged Attuma briefly. The princess slid from her place in line, crossing behind Namora and Ayo to stand with the rest of their family at the foot of the bed.

“This is your secondborn. A son born beneath the Great Weaver, swift and sure of his path.” Ixtli lifted their son from Namora’s arms and placed him on the right side of Okoye’s chest. “What name will you give to him?”

Okoye gazed down at her son, watching him nuzzle into her skin. His skin was warm, and his body was heavier than she expected. He looked nearly identical to his brother; the deeper cleft of his chin was the only difference she could see between them. Like his siblings, their son had thin, dark lines along his collarbones, alluding to the presence of gills. Dr. Langeni had already confirmed that the organs were vestigial and had no function. Her children were blessed with the ability to respirate air through their lungs and water through their skin, much like the King of Talokan.

The first to be born between the land and sea, her children represented the cementing of the Wakandan/Talokanil alliance. The two nations were connected by blood, woven together by love. Her son required a name that fit their future.

“Chii’kaan B’atz’,” Okoye said after a moment.

The Feathered Serpent Weaver.

Attuma cupped her face gently, looking deep into her eyes. “K’iino, are you certain?”

Her beloved knew there was no love lost between her and his king. It had taken time for her to tolerate his presence in Birnin Zana, never mind their home. Okoye hadn’t even called him K’uk’ulkan until she reached her second trimester of pregnancy. To honor him in this way was a step beyond, but in order for their nations to grow strong together, grace was necessary. She would never forget, and likely never forgive, but the past was immovable and unchangeable. They could only go forward.

“I’m sure” Okoye nodded. “We are bound by blood, my love. Our children are equal parts, Wakandan and Talokanil. We must honor both as we move forward.”

Attuma’s eyes melted with her declaration, and he kissed her forehead, her nose, then her lips softly. “Ndiyakuthandana, Okoye.”

Okoye smiled and returned his kiss, just as soft. “In yaakunech, Attuma.”

“The mother of your children is a wise woman, Nacom. K'a'abet a sutk'esiko'ob le ti' a watan,” Ixtli said with a sharp grin.

Okoye didn’t understand everything the iyom k’exelom said, but she did know watan. Wife.

She and Attuma shared a knowing smile.

We will be married when in K’iino’ is ready to have a husband again. That’s what he’d told her mother.

She never thought she would have another husband, not after the bitter betrayal she’d faced. She hadn’t thought she could tie her soul to another man before Attuma. She hadn’t thought she could love someone so wholly, so thoroughly that she felt incomplete without them as she did with Attuma. He held her heart; married or not, their souls were irrevocably bound.

“Tu k'iinili' [In time],” her beloved responded with a sly smirk.

Ixtli nodded and turned to Ayo, lifting their youngest from her arms. Like she’d done with the other two, the Talokanil midwife unwrapped the baby and laid her on Okoye’s chest, right between her brothers.

“This is your thirdborn. A daughter born at the dawn's breaking, ushering in victorious joy. What name will you give to her?”

Okoye craned her neck down to stare at the smallest of the three curled against her chest and felt her heart sing. She was their unexpected gift, a joyful surprise after the birth of two boys.

She looked at Attuma, who’d been so certain they would have three sons, they hadn’t bothered to discuss what they might name a girl. He looked just as baffled as she felt. Carefully considering Ixtli’s words, Okoye smiled down at her daughter, who grizzled and grunted even while she slept.

“Ixazaluoh.”

Yoltzin’s water-distorted voice spoke from the other side of the bed, offering up the name.

Attuma hummed and placed his hand on their daughter’s head. “It means ‘dawn,’” he explained lowly.

Okoye echoed his hum. “Very fitting, Na’,” she grinned. “Ixazaluoh, then. Ixazaluoh Kenura. The dawn of our joy.”

Her beloved’s smile was wide and bright. “Perfect.”

Attuma kissed her head, running gentle hands over each of their children. “They’re beautiful, in K’iino’.”

Staring down at them, Okoye couldn’t help but agree.

They would grow in time, surrounded by love and supported by their family. But for now, it was enough that they were here.

Small and sleeping and theirs.

Beautiful, indeed.

A/N 3:

I tried not to be too graphic with the L&D, but she did have 3 babies naturally so... it wasn't ever gonna be short.

There's a fourth part to this somewhere in my brain... it might take a lil longer cuz I gotta work on that OT3 thing 👀👀

#attoye #attuma x okoye #okoye x attuma #okoye x attuma fanfiction #okoye #attuma #bpwf #fluffy fluff #floofy floof #the talokandan trio has arrived #attoye has babies #pilesofpillows #a sea of stars

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soft-persephone · 2 years ago

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Attoye’s fanfiction really went from fluff, romance, and wooing, to hardcore explicit raunchy smut.

#I’m not mad at it #attoye #attuma #okoye #black panther #wakanda forever #attuma x okoye

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midnight-oily · 1 year ago

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a lovestruck secret

attoye fluff | 2k words | @attoye-week day 1 | ao3 link

“So…what were you doing so late in Shuri’s lab?”

Sitting on her couch, dressed in his finest jade and fabrics, Attuma blinks at Okoye’s sudden question. He coughs nervously, adjusting his cape around his neck. This was not how he expected their date night to go.

Their courtship was fresh—only a few weeks old but he assumed that it was going well. All their friends and family knew they were attempting to make something work. Physically, it’s been slow but they have cuddled and held hands. With the great difficulties they face, from the distance of their homes to their differences in respiratory biology, they have done their best to work around them.

Half of their date time in Wakanda usually took place in Okoye’s bathroom, where Attuma would take frequent breaks to soak in her tub. Meanwhile, when Okoye visited Talokan, the only places they could really have some privacy was if they journeyed to some of the more remote cenotes that dotted Talokan’s territory. Not all of which had amenities that could accommodate surface dwellers.

Their date nights (as Okoye calls their visits) has not been easy, but it was worth it.

She was worth it.

“I was not aware that Princess Shuri’s lab had a curfew,” Attuma responds cordially. He thanks Chaac that his hair does not dry as quickly as his skin or else Okoye might spot the drops of his nervous sweat.

Okoye taps her feet impatiently, heels clicking against the tiled floor, “You two have been… working together more frequently as of late.”

“Talokan and Wakanda are allies,” he explains diplomatically, “I am merely providing my expertise to Princess Shuri.” Okoye’s eyes narrow, studying his face to catch even the briefest hint of deception. Technically, nothing he has said is a lie. He’s just reinterpreting the truth.

“Tell me, what kind of expertise are you offering her?” She demands, sitting herself down on the other side of the couch, “What project are you two working on that requires the expertise of a Talokanil general?” Attuma only lasts a few seconds under her accusing glare before he awkwardly looks down at his shuffling feet.

“You would need to ask your Princess for the details.”

“Interesting,” she replies with a sour tone, “Shuri told me the same thing. Except to ask you.”

Attuma swallows. He had no response to that.

“Enough,” Okoye sighs, rubbing the temples of her forehead, “I’m too old for these games.”

“Okoye…?”

She scoots directly next to him, forcing him to acknowledge her presence. Attuma looks at her wide eyed, cheeks warming as he could feel the pounding of her heart against his skin. From the day he first fought her on the bridge, he always thought she was a beautiful woman. Up close and personal like this? Stunning, like the sun.

Okoye presses against his shoulder, her words cold and menacing, “Are you cheating on me?”

Startled by Okoye’s sudden accusation, Attuma stutters as he shakes his head, bubbles foaming in his breather, “I-I have done you no dishonor! I would never do such a cowardly thing!”

“You haven’t answered my calls recently,” Okoye folds her arms over her chest defensively, “You are distracted on the training ground, unable to even look at me in the eye —” Attuma tries to protest but she lifts up a finger in warning, silencing him, “—And you won’t answer even the most basic questions about this project you’ve been working on with my own liege!”

“I–I swear that it will be explained in time—”

“Is this project somewhere between her legs?!”

“I have no interest in the Princess of Wakanda! We are merely working together!”

“Funny considering you’ve been staying late every night in Shuri’s lab this week!”

Attuma grasps Okoye’s hand, holding it against his chest in the hopes that she may feel his sincerity, “In yaakumech! I swear, there is no other! I do not wish to court anyone but you–”

“So why can’t you tell me what is going on?!” she asks incredulously, tearing her hand away from him, “Why can’t Shuri?”

“Because I’ve asked the Princess to keep quiet.”

“Quiet about what?!”

Attuma doesn’t answer. His mouth opens and then closes. His eyes darted side to side, trying to think of exactly what to say. What could he say? It was too soon. He needed to stall a little bit longer. How long did Shuri say? Maybe an additional week of testing plus—

“Fine. Get out.”

Startled out of his thoughts, Attuma gaped at Okoye’s sudden demand.

“Yaakunaj…?”

The ex-general stands up from the couch, placing her hands on her hips as she gazes down at him with a glare that would have killed most men.

“We’re done,” she says cooly, “If you can’t be open with me, then I’m wasting my time. I’m too old to be entertaining men with secrets. Leave.”

Attuma hangs his head—his heart sinking into his stomach. No—no! It’s going all wrong. This wasn’t how he wanted it to go. Should he just tell her? If he tells her, perhaps she would—

“Did you not hear me?” Okoye snaps, gesturing to her door, “Get up and get out! We are done!”

He glances back up at her, briefly taking in her angry expression with a wince. He swallows again, his Adam’s apple bobbing before standing up slowly, unable to meet her eyes.

As Attuma was about to turn towards her doorway, the most ludicrous idea popped into his head. It was risky. Even deadly. Yet if he could pull it off, everything would be made right. If he was a smarter man, he wouldn’t even entertain the notion. Alas, he was a man in love and it is known that lovestruck men are stupidest of all men.

Attuma faces Okoye directly, meeting her deadly glare straight on with a stupidly bright smile. Before she could even react, he reaches up, pulls his face-breather off and crushes it with his fist.

“Isidenge! What are you doing!?” shouts Okoye as she watches the vibranium pieces of the breather fall onto the ground, “W-We must get you to water!”

She snatches his wrist—the one that crushed the breather and tries to tug him towards her bathroom where she had prepped the tub earlier. However Attuma holds still against her pulling. Still smiling as stupidly bright as ever.

“Why are you fighting me!?” She hisses at him, irritated at his lack of urgency, “Just because I have rejected you doesn’t give you the right to die of asphyxiation in my living room!”

Using both of her hands to grip his wrists, he finally stumbles a few steps forward. Even with her mini victory, Attuma’s smile only grows. Okoye huffs with exasperation—she was once a general. It’s not enough to win the battle, she must win the war!

They continue on for a bit: Okoye furiously tugging at him and Attuma giving into her every couple tugs or so. With each minute that passes, Attuma’s smile grows wider and wider until the man lets out a small chuckle of delight.

“Eh?” Okoye’s eyebrows furrow as she pauses in her tugging to stare at Attuma’s happy loopy expression, “What is so funny?!” He shakes his head, biting his tongue to keep the growing happiness in his belly from bursting. He looks like he’s about to cry, yet he’s grinning ear to ear.

What on Bast's Earth is happening to this man?

She’s convinced it might be a side effect of the lack of oxygen. She starts tugging again, more fiercely than before.

“Okoye—” He speaks her name softly. Sweetly. As if her name was a prayer to the gods.

“This. Is. Not. Funny! I am NOT dealing with your corpse!”

“Okoye, it’s been—What is the measurement? Thirty minutes?”

“You stupid man, if it has been truly thirty minutes then you would have been…”

She stops as her eyes flicker to her living room clock. Her lips part in shock as she double checks, even triple checks the time. It has been exactly thirty three minutes and forty two seconds.

“...out of breath and… dead.”

With all her tugging, it certainly felt no more than five minutes. Yet even with quadruple checking the time with her kimoyo beads, there was no denying it.

Attuma has been standing on land, without a breather, for over thirty minutes.

Not even a surfacer could hold their breath underwater for that long, let alone a Talokanil. She drops his wrists, taking a few shaky steps back to examine him up and down.

“Y-you can breathe on land now? H-how?”

Attuma reaches up to his shoulder and pulls down the edge of his cape, “Princess Shuri’s project. A breather prototype that I’ve been developing with her.”

Underneath the fabric, Okoye was able to spot a thin vibranium collar wrapped tightly around his neck. It pulses with a faint glow as it draws in oxygen from the air.

Dazed, Okoye reached out to touch the collar, tracing the edge of it with a warm finger. Attuma delights in the occasional brush of her nails against his skin. She tilts her head curiously, “How long have you been able to do this?”

“This is the first time the contraption worked.”

“What!?” Okoye darts her hand back, afraid that her touch may have damaged it in some way, “You could have died!”

“But I didn’t.”

“You idiotic—”

Okoye lets out a colorful wave of curses—Why did she agree to date the stupidest, most reckless man in the ocean?!

“—Why keep this a secret from me?!”

“Because I wanted to surprise you with this—”

Salt. That’s the first thing Okoye tastes when Attuma presses his lips against hers. He is the ocean—the rolling tide of a mighty sea that comes crashing down upon her shore. The sharkbone piercing on his nose presses against her skin and she gasps, allowing his tongue to slip inside. His hands curl around her hips, pulling her tighter against him and instinctively, she curls her arms around his wide shoulders.

Okoye was no blushing virgin. She was once married and had her fair share of lovers but something about this man—this warm, gentle, sweet man—that is making her giddy like a schoolgirl. She deepens the kiss, dancing her tongue with his in a fierce battle that neither would back down from. They were the greatest warriors of their nations—it would not do for either of them to give in so easily.

She gives him a few victories—a sigh, another gasp and even a moan for him to devour. In return, he gives her guttural groans as she nibbles on his bottom lip, amused by how such a small act can cause a grown man to tremble delightfully.

With this one kiss, all their worries and concerns have shrunk into a speck of insignificance.

There was no Talokan or Wakanda. No alliances or enemies.

There was only Attuma and Okoye. A lovestruck man with his love drunk woman.

Feeling Okoye begin to quiver at the intensity of their kiss, Attuma pulls back just a little, observing her with half-hooded eyes,“I’m sorry, I didn't mean to keep it a secret from you for long, yaakunaj. I just didn’t want you to be disappointed if it didn’t work.”

His hands were still tight around her waist, not wanting to let her go just yet. She looks at him with teary eyes, a mix of both happiness and annoyance—She thought he was going to actually die! This man will be the death of her!—and sighs, “I was… too hasty. I should have just trusted you. I’m sorry too.”

He smiles again. Stupidly bright.

Okoye rolls her eyes, “I suppose we need to tell Shuri the good news.”

Attuma nods and takes the opportunity to nuzzle her with his nose and she snorts at his childish behavior. He doesn’t care. He’s been wanting to do that since—well, since he first fell in love with her at the bridge.

After a brief pause, Okoye clears her throat, licking her lips, “But we don’t need to tell her now…”

“Oh?”

“It’s pretty late,” She gives him a sly wink, her hands reaching downward, “We can just let her know in the morning after we do some more… testing?”

Attuma grins as he feels her tugs on him once more, but this time towards her bedroom door.

#attoye #okoye x attuma #attuma x okoye #attuma #okoye #blank panther #fanfic #attoye week #midnightoily fics

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