#king n’jadaka

[iwannabesawtrapped]

just another day of calling big murder men "babygirl"

[szagaloree]

Set fire to the rain

Teaser

Will Contain: angst/mentions of death/mental health awareness/fluff/ bipolar depression

Iris was being rush into the medical room due to a break in at her and Erik’s home, a tub that goes down her throat and the nurses try to pump air into her lungs. Erik reported back to the cia and Ross walks up to him “I’ve got some bad news, you’re girlfriend Iris is in the hospital, it was reported a break in at the house and she was trying to fight of the intruders but ended up getting shot in the process,” he informs Erik’s anger boils up like a furnace, “what hospital?” He asks, “st. Marks, after they get surgery done she will be transferred to our facility,” he says but Erik was not going to wait, he ends up rushing out leaving, speeding down the streets.

Erik runs into he hospital, “who are you looking for?” The nurse asks, “iris june” he said “she’s still in surgery,” she says, he huffs trying to calm himself down. After some hours the doctor walks out “relative of patient, iris June?” Erik springs up “please tell me she’s okay,” Erik pleads anxiously, “yes she is fine, very lucky one of the bullets could’ve struck her heart and kill her but we got the bullets out, in total there were for on in her arm, and three of them in her torso, it came be speedy recovery if she stays on bed rest no getting up, no lifting anything,” he explains, Erik sighs in relief.

Erik was directed to the hospital room where she was in. Erik wanted to reck hell on whoever did this, Erik sat down on the edge of the bed, “baby?” He calls hoping she would respond, her body shifts but her eyes don’t open, he holds her hand “erik” she whispers “yea it’s me baby,” he says, “I wanna go, now,” she says “I know ma,” he leans over and kiss her head, “do you remember what happened?” He asks, she nodded, “kinda… but they were masked up, can’t recognize them, who knows where they came from,” she says. Erik huffs his nose twitched, “Erik…I know what you are thinking don’t,” she says “no! They not finna get away with this shit,” he said “they know not to mess with my baby, imma put they ass straight in the dirt,” he said.

“Erik no, I told you no, we don’t know who they are,” Iris argued.

He shakes his head.

A/N: very short Ik🫠 it’s a little teaser I don’t want to give a lot away, but I’m debating on this being a fully story series or short😭

[the-stars-sigh-when-i-get-high]

Just slammed my head into the wall again…

[fictioninmyblood]

I Meant That Shit

Summary: N’Jadaka gets tired of waiting for Y/N to forgive him and come home, so he decides to let Killmonger bring her back, kicking and screaming if necessary.

Warnings: 18+, noncon/con, smut, D/s themes, Entitled and pissed Erik being devious. Shouldthere be a warning for angst?

A/N: This was supposed to be short, but here we are. Enjoy my sexually starved thoughts.

A/N: Also, idk if this needs to be said, but I write for my demographic - black females. This has been my disclaimer/notice.

A/N: My work is not to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than this) without my explicit consent and recognition.

After his reluctant rehabilitation, there weren't many things that brought out his killer instinct anymore. However, it seemed that lately, despite all the sparring, therapy, and meditation sessions, Erik couldn’t shake the urge to knock some sense into his girl Y/N. 

A few weeks prior when she told him she needed space and couldn’t stay in Wakanda and ignore her life anymore, he said some things. She took it the wrong way and told him they were over, as if.

When she first left, Erik was sure she’d break down and FaceTime him or use the kimoyo beads he taught her to use. She was always more vocal about missing him, so he just assumed she’d break down and restart their communication. Imagine his surprise when a whole two weeks rolled by without so much as a text, call, or video chat. He was desperate for anything from her, even a verbal lashing, but by the time a month came and went, he felt like a fiend going through withdrawal.

During week six, his excitement to finally lay his eyes on Y/N was quickly cut short when he realized she was still talking to his family even though he had been getting the silent treatment. That displeasing information lit him like a powder keg when he saw another man in Y/N’s background, getting dressed no less. T’Challa dragged him from Shuri’s lab ready to bust a gasket when his babygirl asked Shuri to go into a different room and his little cousin actually listened! His whole family was against him again it would seem.

When T’Challa got him back to his room, all he did was pace. It was ten full minutes of the king warily watching his cousin stew when M’Baku walked right into the line of fire as Erik turned to beat the shit out of his cousin. T’Challa easily dodged the current threat on his life as the giant grabbed Erik’s hands in one of his, quickly disarming him and making the pouting man even more enraged. 

“You all have been talking to her this whole time?” N’Jadaka roared.

“Just Shuri and I. She made us promise to let you figure it out for yourself, but you’ve been failing miserably cousin! Absolutely clueless!” T’Challa replied.

Erik struggled against M’Baku’s vice grip to no avail.

“No shit Sherlock. I’m gonna whoop yawls asses. M’Baku let me go.”

“Not until you promise to have a conversation with your mouth instead of your hands. I am not prepared to get involved in another war between you two.”

Erik took a few deep breaths. “Fine, I’m good.”

Once M’Baku was sure there would be no immediate violence he let go.

“You better start explaining real fucking soon T,” Erik spat, pointing an accusatory finger at T’Challa.

“Okay! Okay! Y/N is struggling to accept that you actually want her around long term!” T’Challa word-vomited.

If the prince wasn’t already enraged, the king and tribal chief would’ve laid out in hysterics at how N’Jadaka’s face screwed up. “How sway! How?!”

“From what Shuri has explained and I’ve gathered in my eavesdropping is that she thinks you only want to claim her without actually growing with her. Everything is on your terms, your way, in  your time. She’s been far more  patient than most would be with you so I can’t say she’s wrong.”

Erik jumped at T’Challa, scaring him and the big gorilla chief. “I oughta beat you up for keeping your mouth shut.”

“She and Shuri threatened me within an inch of my life and they scare me more than you. Besides, according to them, you can’t keep relying on us to figure out what’s going on in your relationship and I couldn’t find a valid disagreement.”

Erik nearly did slap T’Challa at the last sentiment.

“Aye aye!” M’Baku shouted, getting between the two yet again, “He is being truthful now. That counts eh? And if I may interject, I think you’re aiming your anger at the wrong person.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Erik said, deflating under the weight of that truth, “but his ass still bout to pay me back and I know just how.”

————-

A few hours later…

“You know, when I told you that you could pay me back with The Royal Talon Fighter, I didn’t expect you to tag along.”

“Who else was going to keep an eye on our Wakandan technology or keep you from murdering anyone in the vicinity of Y/N, especially any man?”

Erik rolled his eyes and huffed. “I guess.”

“Or Y/N from killing you for just showing up jealous despite being radio silent since long before she left Wakanda.”

“Alright alright! You made your point. Damn! Just drive the fancy metal.”

—

Erik was all confidence until the second they landed in Atlanta. Yeah, Killmonger was out for blood and was ready to bring their girl back kicking and screaming if necessary, but Erik N’Jadaka Stevens? He was a nervous fucking wreck.

T’Challa and M’Baku’s words really struck a nerve and he had nothing but time to stew over them on the ride to your family’s hometown ranch. Before he met you, Killmonger made all the decisions, kept him alive and ahead of the game, whatever game he was surviving at the moment. He lived like that for well over a decade when he met you, but you didn’t bat an eyelash at his swift mood swings, his bloodthirst, or his possessiveness, often putting him in place. You handled him with love and care, showing him how to become the softer version of himself without sacrificing your boundaries too much. He was quickly realizing that he sometimes pushed too hard, took too much, neglected your requirements. It was your stern patience, however, that was enough to allow you to become the first person to get him the person instead of him the killer to come out and communicate, interact, and live rather than survive. 

You did it for him a second time around when he came out of cryo too. He hadn’t told you anything about how he would go about his goals, opting just to disappear and execute so it was a surprise of a lifetime to wake up to your beautiful Y/E/C. After getting over his initial anger over you seeing the worst of him, you were the first person he responded to or let touch him during his recovery. Even going so far as not allowing the medical staff to redress his wounds if he was awake.

Only your touch soothed him, only your voice gave him peace. You made him less of a killing machine and more human again, made him want to address the tsunami of emotions and trauma that he lugged around. He didn’t want to jeopardize your willingness to be that for him but he recognized how you were always giving all you had just to receive an inch of progress from him. If that.

Unfortunately, all of his introspection and nervousness flew right out of the truck T’Challa had them in when he saw you walking up to your personal guesthouse with a man in tow. Killmonger immediately took the reins pushing him and his feelings down into the abyss, and leaping out of the car before T’Challa could come to a complete stop with his cousin calling after him.

“Y/N!” Killmonger shouted from the end of the long-ass driveway, rage evident in his voice.

Y/N was haphazardly trying to get her drunk cousin up the stairs while nervously dropping her keys when she heard Killmonger. She’s only encountered him a few times since meeting Erik, after the first time she brought him back to himself, he did his best to keep that part from her. It didn’t always work since any repressed feeling or issue the man had was poured into his alter ego, feeding his desire to be wild and untamed in his decision-making. So she knew he was out for blood with just the sound of her name.

She got the key in just as Killmonger got to the beginning of her walkway up to the house. As quickly as she could, she pulled her cousin in, slamming and locking the door in her partner’s face, leaving the beast to bang on her door and demand entrance.

“I’m not dealing with your bulldozing tactics Kill! You can come back when Erik is ready to face his fucking feelings and have an adult conversation!”

“If you know what’s good for you and that nigga in there, you better open this ghatdamn door Y/N!” He roared in response.

Y/N’s cousin couldn’t stop laughing, no matter how much she waved him off. Getting trashed 3 nights in a row after a bad breakup and crashing with his favorite cousin after hearing how she was hiding from both the world and the love of her life as well didn’t prepare him for seeing her so out of character. One second she was fleeing from the man, the next she was big and bad from behind a locked door in all her 5’5” glory. It was comical as hell to him.

“You know you look constipated when you cuss? Like that stick in your ass is fighting every syllable.” He said, immediately dying in another fit of laughter at his analogy.

“Who the fuck is that in there with you, Y/N, and don’t fucking lie!”

“The next man. Nice to meet you. You must be the ex.” her cousin shouted out in a drunken slur to Y/N’s horror.

Yeah, she knew she wasn’t in the wrong, and there was no reason to defend herself against this man, but she knew not to press certain buttons once Kill made an appearance. Her cousin, unfortunately, had no discernment to see that he had just pressed the biggest red button Kill had when it came to her.

Y/N watched the myriad of emotions that crossed Erik’s face through the peephole, praying to every ancestor and display of the creator she could think of that this man wasn’t going to go full psycho-killer on them both. The last thing she needed was him taking several steps back in his healing just to unnecessarily add another scar, maybe 2 with how pissed he looked. 

Y/N turned back to her cousin, ready to kill him for putting her in even hotter water, only to find that nigga was sleep, leaving Y/N to deal with the consequences on her own. 

As soon as she had that thought her ears piqued, taking in how silent it had gotten. All she could hear was the crunch of gravel as T’Challa finally pulled in and got out. When she peeked outside the peephole again, she was met with a confused T’Challa looking for Erik.

A chill ran up her spine and her blood ran cold as she slowly turned to her current worst fear; Killmonger pissed as hell, staring her down with a knife to her cousin’s throat.

“Give me one good reason not to paint your brand new carpet with this nigga’s blood Y/F/N then fuck you on the new color.”

Putting her hands up in a placating manner, Y/N slowly inched towards Kill, stopping when he dug the knife just slightly deeper, exposing a thin line of blood, as her cousin slept unawares.

Donning a submissive voice as if she was talking to a wild animal, “Erik, baby calm down.”

“Don’t baby calm down me! You out here giving other niggas what’s mine? Mine Y/N!”

“That’s not–”

“Don’t tell me that’s not what’s going on when you’ve been M.I.Fucking.A. for weeks! And the first thing I see both on video chat and in person is you with some random?! I’ll murder every nigga to ever touch you, keep tryna play me.”

“Nobody’s playing you Daka, look closer, you know him. I promise I haven’t been stepping out on you.” Y/N continued on, internally rolling her eyes at the toddler temper tantrum she had to placate this nigga out of. “My stupidly in love, trying to escape his own heartache, and loves drama when drunk cousin that you have met several times was just egging you on.”

Kill looked closer to the man’s face and released the filter of rage clouding his judgment, upon closer inspection he realized they’d met at several of the many family gatherings he’d attended with Y/N/N. Slowly easing the knife from her cousin’s throat, Erik struggled to fight back tears at his behavior. He was proving he wasn’t good enough for her, he hadn’t actually changed all that much. Kill took the reins once again, unwilling to let him process his feelings of abandonment and betrayal just yet. Rushing towards Y/N, he laid the knife flat on the side of her face, taking up residence on the other side.

Biting a huge hickey along her jawline, before grasping her earlobe in between his teeth, Killmonger growled, “So if you ain’t been fucking him, who you been fucking?”

Although Y/N knew she logically had nothing to feel guilty about, how he was questioning her made her want to lie down and worship him as an apology regardless. She took a deep breath to center herself, understanding that any sign of nervousness would be taken as an omission of guilt.

Y/N ran her hands up his arms and over his shoulder blades to hold his face in her palms. He reluctantly released her earlobe to allow her to face him, naturally allowing the blade to rest against her neck ever so gently.

“N’Jadaka. Erik, baby? Look at me, I have been trying to live without you miserably for the last few weeks. I’ve only been going out since Y/C/N got here and I have to beg for breaks because I’m basically his chaperone. You believe me don’t you?”

Erik looked at her with suspicion clouding his eyes. He dropped the knife and held her throat in his hands, squeezing just tight enough to hint to either pleasure or pain, pushing her against the front door.

“Ion know. Why should I?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

Y/N took a chance and palmed his face, caressing his cheekbone with her thumb. “Cause you know that no matter how much you stress me out, isolate yourself from me, or threaten anyone who seems to have more access to me than you, that I love your crazy ass.”

Erik squeezed a little tighter, not enough to hurt her but enough to reassert his dominance. Y/N put a hand over his, doing her best to ground herself in the feeling of his hands rather than how much she wanted to cum from the pressure of them.”

“Sorry,” Y/N squeaked out, “I love every version of you, no matter how threatening any of them may be and I physically can’t stand to have anyone else touch me the way I let you touch me.”

“Say it again.”

“I love you?”

“Nah, princess, the other part.”

“No matter how threatening-” she started, but was cut off by the growl emanating from Erik’s chest and the pulsing release and pressure of him allowing her small gasps of air. “You know what I mean Y/N, don’t test me lil mama.”

Erik held his squeeze on her neck, tilting it ever so slightly to lick the side of her face and hold her earlobe between his teeth, tugging.

Y/N couldn’t hold back the guttural moan if she tried. Just barely keeping her eyes from rolling back and donning her sweetest sub voice, she said, “I physically can’t stand to have anyone else touch me the way I let you touch me big daddy. It literally makes me nauseous.”

Erik released her ear with a wet snap against her face, “It does?”

Y/N hummed and nodded her head as best she could in her current predicament.

Killmonger covered the forgiving face Erik started to make, replacing it with one of his stern, unyielding looks. “Then why you leave me and give me the silent treatment for weeks?”

Y/N whined at the tightening of his hands, closing her eyes to savor the pleasure only he could illicit lighting her body on fire.

Erik bit her bottom lip roughly, nearly drawing blood. “That’s not an answer.”

Losing the battle against her libido and subspace, Y/N whined again.

In a faux sweet voice Erik said, “Awww, is little mama already too far gone in her head thinking about all the ways imma mark you.”

Y/N nodded again, lost in the many images she’d acquired from her sexual experiences with Erik and Kill over the years.

“Good.” And with those words, Y/N was suddenly looking at Erik’s ass and the floor as he stomped upstairs to her bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him.

He tossed her on the bed and roughly stripped her of her clothes, halter top first, bottoms and panties all in one fell swoop last, leaving her heels on.

He positioned her over his knee and popped her cheeks until her bottom was flushed with his favorite shade of reddish purple and warmed his hands with the heat she emanated.

By the time he was done, Y/N wanted to be a ball of tears, but could only sniffle, her voice too shy to make an appearance when Kill took the reins of their scenes like this for fear of upsetting him further.

Erik used his knee to spread her legs open far enough to see her flower drenching her thighs in her nectar for him. He took two fingers to swipe some of it onto them for him to put in his mouth and savor, groaning at how much sweeter she seemed to have gotten since last he held her.

He laid her onto the bed and got up to undress himself, slapping her already sore ass when she didn’t move a muscle.

“You know what’s up. Face down, ass up lil mama.”

Y/N groaned but slowly inched her way into position. Already feeling like jello, she barely put an arch in her back, struggling not to lay back down and pass out.

Killmonger was not happy with that. After he’d removed everything except his grills and chain he let both his palms come down on her cheeks simultaneously.

Sounding more animal than human, “If you don’t assume the position like you got some sense, I swear to the gods Y/N.”

She was still lethargic, but was eager to experience less of his painful assaults and more of the pleasurable ones that she knew were around the corner. It took all of her strength but she was able to inch herself into position, deepening her arch just the way he demanded with her arms by her side and her cheek resting against the comforter.

“Good girl.”

With how pliant she was to his commands and the evidence of how much she trusted and wanted him dripping down her thighs, it took all of his restraint not to plunge himself into her until he felt her cervix try to push him back out.

Y/N smiled faintly at the praise, humming and wiggling her ass in response.

Killmonger grasped her wrists as he knelt to get up close and personal with his pussy. He spread her lips so he could get an eyeful of her throbbing clit and blew on it, eliciting a guttural moan from Y/N, before replacing his hand back on her wrist.

“Just you wait mamas, you gonna be screaming and crying by the time I’m done with you.”

He licked her juices on both thighs, leaving hickies all over them both before he finally put his whole face in her pussy and ate. If it wasn’t for the grasp he had on her wrists, she would have collapsed immediately.

Erik was a good kisser in general, but Killmonger was a master at french kissing, especially her pussy, until she was questioning whether or not she still wanted the pleasure. Those deep soul sucking kisses always made her question her sanity.

He slurped up and suctioned her clit into his mouth like that’s where it belonged, flicking it with the tip of his tongue until she came with a silent scream, without ever releasing her tiny bud. Then he released it with a pop only to hold her lips open and spit directly onto her hole, watching his saliva drip down onto her clit. He flattened his tongue and licked like the dog he could be until she was a whining, moaning mess, tears streaming down her face just as promised. 

Once the first sound hit his ears, she couldn’t stop the noises he was pulling from her if she was mute, let alone at the mercy of his insatiable thirst for her most animalistic responses.

Kill continued his assault with his tongue, moving through her folds in a rhythm only he knew. After he’d gotten two more orgasms from her that way, Y/N alternating between screaming and crying, he latched his plush lips back around her clit, assaulting the sensitive bundle of nerves, and plunged his two most trustworthy fingers into her, immediately finding her gspot and caressing it with an incessant ‘come hither’ motion until she was squirting and creaming uncontrollably. Not willing to let go just yet he dragged it out for what seemed like forever since she briefly lost consciousness and came to, lips still parted in the O of her silent screams, with his mouth still eagerly slurping up the waterfall his fingers were responsible for. All Y/N could do was turn her head the other way to watch what she could see of him, whining and moaning.

When she could barely release any more spurts he released her, licking his hand, fingers, and forearm clean as he slowly stroked his hard as steel member. 

In the great deep of her sex haze, Y/N mumbled, “He brought dick too? How are we gonna survive dick too when he almost killed us with just his mouth and fingers.”

Erik chuckled at her ramblings, proud that he was, as usual, responsible for her senseless words.

When his precum made an appearance, he swiped it up with his thumb and rubbed it into her pussy, almost immediately replacing his thumb with the tip of his dick. Wanting to savor this moment of finally being able to reconnect with his pussy, he played with her, just like that. Rubbing the tip of his dick in both of their juices, up and down her pussy lips, circling her clit, and coming to apply just enough pressure to her desperately clenching hole, only to rinse and repeat. On and on he went, teasing them both until his quietly whimpering babygirl was back to guttural whines.

He knew she was right where he wanted her mentally when she started begging.

“Please big daddy, I’m so sorry. Please baba E, please baba, please. Please please please please please pleaaaaaasssssseeeeee.”

When he was good and ready, he pulled her up by her throat until she was flush against him, licked her tears from her cheek, and forced her to look him in the eyes.

“You don’t do that disappearing and silent treatment shit ever again Y/N. You hear me?”

Y/N nodded and blinked at him with a puppy eyed look that damn near melted the ice caps of his attitude, but he was quick to remind her who’s big daddy in their relationship.

“When I told you, you were mine, I meant that shit mama.”

“Yes, baba,” Y/N squeaked out.

He tongued her down with one of his sloppy french kisses and as soon as he felt her body relax in his hold, he did exactly what his body had been begging for since the second he saw her. He pushed himself into her until he felt the tip of her cervix try to push him all the way back out, savoring the fucked out look she wore as her body spasmed with the unexpected orgasm, he held them there letting her ride it out. 

In this moment he was grateful for the years of curated discipline since the way her pussy clamped onto him almost triggered his own mind numbing orgasm. Although he successfully staved off his nut, he couldn’t stop the way all of his fight was knocked right out of him.  Finally rid of the aggression that his Killmonger personality oozed, Erik was able to finally take in his queen, his Y/N, in all her sex hazed glory.

When she finally came down from her high he started moving, giving her slow and deep strokes as he showered her face and neck with kisses, hoping his attempt at lovemaking showed her just how priceless she was to him, how desperate he’d been without her.

Kiss, “I’m sorry too mamas,” kiss “I know how much you love me and I don't understand why,” kiss, “you,” kiss, “insist,” kiss, “on pouring all of the best parts of yourself into me.” He couldn’t help but shed a tear at the relief he felt, having her in his arms again. “I promise to do better,” kiss, “to listen and pay attention more,” kiss, “to treat you like the empress you are,” kiss, “just say you’ll come home with me,” kiss, “promise you’ll take your rightful place by my side mamas,” kiss, “claim your right as my queen.”

Y/N was a moaning, whining mess, barely holding onto consciousness and shedding her favorite kind of tears, just as promised.

Erik tucked his face into her neck, struggling to keep himself from cumming too soon since her pussy was gripping him like a boa constrictor, indicating that yet another orgasm wasn’t too far.

He held himself in the deepest parts of her and put a little whine in his hips. “Please mama, come home with me.”

Just when he thought he could hold out no longer she arched into him and screamed yes over and over, overwhelmed with her orgasm, and squirted all over them both. Erik came in her almost at the exact same time, his orgasm nearly knocking him out with how it overcame him from head to toe. Both of them slumped into the bed.

—

By the time he finally started to get up, her screams had quieted back to whimpers.

Erik slowly and gently removed her heels from her feet, massaging the soles with just the right amount of pressure.

He cleaned both of them with a warm washcloth and ran the tub, placing some bubble bath soap, epsom salt, essential oils, and dried rose petals in the water. Wanting to balance out the intrusive way he barged back into her life, he lit some candles and incense as well, and placed his favorite body oil of hers on the counter.

When he came back to get her in the tub, she was silently staring into space in the same place and position he left her. After he got her to turn over and sit up, he scooped her into his arms bridal and brought her to the tub, gently placing her into the suds.

Once he saw her relax he went back to the bedroom to strip and change the sheets, wanting their transition back into the room to be seamless. When he came back into the bathroom her head was leaned against the edge of the tub, eyes closed, and tears were streaming down her face, alarming him to the fact that although he’d won the battle, he was still losing the war with treating his girl with the care she really was looking for from him.

Choking up himself, he kneeled next the tub and leaned over her face, kissing the droplets left behind.

“I’m so sorry mamas. You know that right?” His voice cracked at the end.

Although she started nodding yes, she ended up shaking her head no.

“Can you open your eyes for me please?”

Y/N shook her head no again.

“Pretty please?”

Again she shook her head no. She was too scared to look him in his eyes, anytime he touched her or they made eye contact she folded to his desires and needs, abandoning her own.

A little defeated, but determined to win all of her back, not just her body, Erik switched tactics.

“May I get into the tub with you and hold you?”

Y/N hesitated a few moments before she nodded yes. As soon as she heard the rustle of him standing back up she scooted forward allowing him to sit behind her.

Once he was seated, Erik gently pulled her into him, urging her body to use him as she did the edge of the tub. The moment she relaxed in his embrace, head lolling slightly to the left, he started kissing up and down her neck from where her ear met her face to her collarbone.

When he felt enough time had passed, he tried to get her to open up to him again.

“Lil mama?”

Y/N hummed.

“Tell me what’s on your mind please, I promise to listen.”

Y/N held up her pinky and asked, “Pinky promise?”

Erik locked his pinky with hers and brought her hand to his lips, softly talking against it, “Pinky Promise.”

She pulled her hand away, putting it back in her lap to join the other one, under the water.

Taking a deep breath she started.

“Am I a toy to be played with Daka?” Erik was ready to answer but kept silent, knowing she needed to get all of her thoughts out before he interrupted her. “To be taken out of storage to be used and then tossed aside when you’re not getting the desired result anymore?”

Rubbing the sides of her thighs and suddenly very scared, he said, “ no mamas.”

“Then why do you get to demand time and attention and energy from me, but when I ask for a sliver of honest communication, the smallest amount of all three resources you have to offer me, you shut me out? Why is it only okay for you to communicate what’s going on with you and us when you feel like it, when it's convenient? Why do I always have to beg for you to lean on me, to use me softly? Why do I have to beg you to let me hold you. Why don’t you ever just ask? Why do I have to grovel at your feet to be held by you? Why is the only time you make love to me when you’re trying to win me back? Why?” 

By the end of her list, Y/N was sobbing. Erik wrapped his arms around her body and tucked his chin in the curve of her neck and let a few tears drop himself before he answered.

“I don’t know mamas. I guess…,” he wiped the tears from his face and gulped down the rising tsunami of emotion that she so easily created with just a few sentences before he wrapped his arm back around her, “...I guess I’m just terrified.”

“Of what baby? Haven’t I been here? Haven’t I done the best to support you with all that I am, to remain honest with you and show you that I am loyal to our future?”

He kissed her shoulder and said, “you have. I just-”

Y/N pulled out of his arms to finally look him in the eye, “You just what? Aren’t my efforts to build a life with you enough?”

Erik palmed her face and gave her a deep kiss, hoping to transfer all of his emotion into it.

He put his forehead against hers and said, “I’m just so fucking terrified of losing you. To have the warmth of your love snatched away at a moment's notice. I’m terrified in a way I haven’t been in so fucking long that I just convince myself that its better to pull away and show you how unworthy I am of the full magnitude of your love.”

He pulled away and kissed her forehead, grateful she was finally looking him in the eyes again. “But this time of separation showed me I am nothing without you, just a hollow shell, no love to warm my soul and bones. Even the care and concern of my family isn’t enough to fill the abyss that’s created in your absence.”

Y/N swiped away the stray tears from his face, “that’s-”

“I know. Super intense.”

“Yes. But I was gonna say a relief to hear. You never really give me any verbal confirmation that you feel as deeply for me as I do for you unless I say I love you first.”

“I know mamas, but I promise to do better, be better, for you.”

Y/N pecked his lips. “No Baba. For you. You need to talk your feelings out loud so you can hear it too. You need to know that the only reason you’re able to love me so deeply is because you love yourself that deep, if not deeper, first. Understand?”

Erik smirked, yet again grateful that he had such a wise and loving partner who always held up the pieces of mirror he’d sworn he’d broken to pieces.

“Yea lil mama, I understand.”

“Good…,” Y/N kissed him again, deepening the kiss but teasing him slightly with how lightly she moved her lips against his. When she pulled away, she almost regretted bursting his bubble. “...cause I’m not going back with you until I’m ready.”

Erik’s face instantly fixed itself into a scowl. “But-”

Y/N held a finger to his lips. “I said when I’m ready, not never. I came home to get back to taking care of me, love me, and understanding what my needs are.”

His pout deepened.

“And I learned that I need to stop jumping when you say jump. So I go back when I feel that I’m ready, not because you showed up and demanded it of me. Okay?”

He was a little deflated, but still holding onto the hope of her eventually coming back with him.

“Okay, but I’m staying with you until you’re ready.”

“But-.” 

It was Erik’s turn to hush her with a finger. “I already know what you’re going to say and my duties will be waiting for me when we go back together. Now that you’re back in my arms I’m in no hurry to lose the privilege again.”

“You’re not!”

“You’re right, cause I’m staying.”

All Y/N could do was chuckle, understanding that she’d lost this battle and relishing in the fact that she won the war. It seemed he was finally starting to understand what she needed because although she was indeed going to complain about him having responsibilities to return to, she really did need him to stay. That abyss he had was mirrored in her heart and only time with him would close it back up.

Both satisfied that they worked through the root issue, they went back to enjoying the bath, Y/N comfortably resting her head against Erik.

When they were all pruney and the water was verging on cold, Erik stood them up to drain the tub and turned on the shower to rinse them both. After he dried them both, he quickly lotioned his body with shea butter, grabbed the body oil and guided Y/N hand in hand, back into the bedroom.

He laid her on her back first to moisturize and massage her front, kneading out all of the tension she held. When he was working his way back up from her feet, he couldn’t help but get stuck between her thighs, using his thumbs to massage circles up them until he reached her pussy again.

Y/N slightly parted her legs, letting one bend and fall open for easy access. He immediately used one hand to part her lips so he could see her clit clearly.

Erik leaned down to softly kiss her clit a few times before he pulled away and used the thumb on his other hand to rub slow circles. He admired her form as he brought her to orgasm leisurely. 

He went back to massaging her thighs until she returned from the heights of her pleasure.

His voice was more gruff than he wanted when he told her, “turn over.”

She easily compiled and continued his massage, paying extra attention to her sore ass.

When Y/N was 2 more seconds away from sleep and he was satisfied with his work he urged her under the covers and joined her. She tried to grab his hardened member to return the favor but he grabbed up her hands, kissing them to soften the blow.

“No, I needed to show you how softly I can treat you, I don’t need to cum right now. Sleep.”

Y/N pouted and whined, wanting to feel him connected to her again.

She lifted her leg over his as they faced each other and inched as close as she could with her hands in his, feeling his dick graze her pussy lips.

Putting a little more base in his voice, “Ay! What I just say lil mama?”

She whined out, “I don’t care, I just need to feel you in me Baba.”

Erik grunted. 

Y/N donned her best puppy dog pout and begged with her words and body, wiggling in his hold and being able to feel the lightest brush of his hot skin. “Pleeeeeeaaaaassssseeee?”

“Fine, but careful what you asked for…” he said, sheathing himself in one stroke and stilled her hips before she could start moving. “...you just might get it.”

He released her hands and tongued her down, palming her face.

“Sleep Y/N.”

“But,” she said, her face scrunching in confusion.

“You can keep me warm, but that’s it for now, okay?”

She started to whine again but was cut short when he wrapped the hand palming her face around her throat.

“Sleep mamas. You’re going to need all of your energy in the morning.”

She wasn’t necessarily happy, but she also wasn’t necessarily dissatisfied. She did get her wish after all.

“Ok.”

Y/N tucked her head under his chin and started to drift before she sleepily said, “thank you for showing me how much you care Baba E. I’m really happy you’re here.”

Erik kissed her forehead and squeezed his arms a little tighter around her.

“Thank you for letting me.”

He was answered with her cute snores and let the sound lull him into the best sleep he’d had in too long of a while.

[yns-world]

lion & lioness

title: lion & lioness

pairing: erik killmonger x fem!reader

summary: erik takes the heart-shaped herb and sees his lost lover.

word count: 1k

warnings: reader death

a/n: i’m now taking requests for killmonger so feel free to send in your requests <3

As the new king of Wakanda, it is ritual for Erik to drink the essence of the heart-shaped herb and to speak with his ancestors. But as the searing power of the herb ran through his veins, he felt himself arriving at a place other than his childhood home. 

When he opened his eyes, Erik found himself at the edge of a lake, in a forest that he recognizes. The creatures of the night sang their songs-- crickets and insects chirped, the nocturnal birds trilled, and the wind lapped at the lake water. The night was full of life under the illuminating light of the full moon. 

Erik craned his head back to take in the sight of the moon. A soft breeze blew past Erik, and a scent caressed his nose-- a familiar scent. 

A moment later, Y/N materialized a few feet in front of him, wearing a sheer gown made of white silk. 

“My King.” Y/N beckoned, with a proud smile on her face. Erik’s eyes filled with a mix of love and heartbreak. He broke the distance and pounced on her, wrapping his arms around her in a bone-crushing embrace. 

His tears were seeping through her translucent gown, and Y/N ached at the sight of his pain. 

Y/N pulled back just enough to see his face. When she cupped his cheeks with her hands, he noticed that they were not cold, but they held the same warmth that they always did when she was still with him. This fact only made him cry more. 

“You’ve come so far, N’Jadaka. You’ve done it.” 

It was true, their whole lives were spent fighting for this one moment-- the moment where Erik was crowned king of Wakanda; where he was revered as the true Black Panther. 

But before he was the Black Panther, they were Lion & Lioness. Hearts and souls bound as one.  

“I need you by my side.” Desperation laced Erik’s voice, his eyes pleading with her.

“As long as the moon is out, I am with you.” She momentarily took her eyes off him to gaze up at the moon, and the moon reflected in her wide eyes. 

Erik’s expression shifted from one of despair to one of bitterness.

This was injustice-- his whole life was an act of injustice-- and Erik swore to avenge each and every action done to him, starting with burning the sacred garden of the heart-shaped herb.

Y/N knew that face, she knew exactly what it meant when Erik’s eyebrows furrowed and his usual scowl deepened.

“If you burn those flowers, you cut off our connection.” 

Immediately, Erik felt a moment of pain that he would feel if he did burn those flowers-- it was scorching pain, like someone took a rod of fire and ran it through his chest before dragging it down his torso and cutting him in half. But that was only the start of the pain, what came next was indescribably worse.

After the initial wave of hell, he was left hollow. He was an empty shell of a man.

He did not remember happiness. He could not recall love. 

He couldn’t even remember the original reason for why he became king in the first place. 

In that single, simulated moment, Erik was no longer himself. He was merely a ghost. 

The feeling washed over him as quickly as it came and he was brought back to the present-- his arms around Y/N as she stared into his eyes, experiencing every emotion with him. 

Erik was silent, but he knew better than to burn those flowers. He wouldn’t dare cut off a connection like theirs.

“Secondly, your heir…” Y/N’s words trailed off and she brought a hand to her stomach. Erik’s eyes followed her hand and was stunned. He gently kneeled in front of her, and placed his hand over her stomach. He pressed a kiss on the baby bump.

He then got back up, asking how many months she had left.

“Soon.” Y/N smiled a bit wider when she saw Erik’s impatient expression. 

Before he could get another word in, Y/N gave Erik a chaste kiss on his cheek.

“Good luck, N’Jadaka. Your story is only beginning.”

---

Erik’s body shot up, his chest heaving as he attempted to regulate his breathing. 

---

Months would pass since that night and there was a significant shift in Erik’s ruling. What was once a war-hungry dog, has now turned into a protector of his nation. 

But recently, something has been eating away at Erik. A gnawing feeling was twisting and churning every moment he was alone. He was restless at night and was suffering from insomnia. 

It was another night in a string of sleepless-nights, but this time he was called to the window. Erik looked up at the indigo sky, a full moon gazed back at him.

Tonight was one year since Y/N’s passing. 

Erik closed his eyes and bowed his head towards the moon. 

“Rest easy, my Queen.”

When he opened his eyes, he witnessed a shooting star race across the sky-- it flew across the moon and seemed to be inching closer and closer towards the castle.

Erik’s body acted before his brain could catch up and he bolted down to the castle entrance.

Outside the entrance sat a baby wrapped in white silk. Erik picked up the swaddled baby and recognized the texture of the cloth immediately-- it was the same cloth Y/N wore when he last saw her. 

Holding up the baby in the moonlight, Erik was able to see the striking resemblance to Y/N.

As he was admiring the baby, a name was whispered in his ear.

Leona. 

And that was what the heir to the Wakandan throne was called. 

Leona Stevens; Lion at heart; born of royal blood. 

The next day, the royal courts would rejoice at this news. The elders were not appalled by the appearance of this heir, they were rather fascinated that they have lived long enough to see this phenomenon happen in front of their very eyes. 

Kings come and go, but nothing could ever dispute Erik’s bloodright of being king since he has been gifted by the gods with an heir. 

Leona’s birth would be celebrated for the next week. She would be revered as the Snow Leopard, for her rare birth and the even rarer occurrence of having an heir blessed by Bast herself.

“Leona!” Wakanda chanted. “Daughter of King N’Jadaka and Queen Y/N; Princess Leona, the Snow Leopard!”

a/n: if you enjoyed reading, please consider reblogging and tipping, that supports me and my account more than likes :)

DON’T BE A GHOST READER!!!!! let me know your thoughts, opinions, ideas, etc in the comments!!! i love talking with y’all <3

i’m open to requests! free feel to request, just make sure to read my pinned post for request rules <3

[intothemultifandom]

– 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐄 [𝟏/𝟑] || 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐮𝐦𝐚

SUMMARY: In the aftermath of The Blip, you and Attuma–warriors turned interim leaders–bond over loss, grief and the weight of two different worlds. When the second blip occurs, those who’ve returned decide to wage war. Unaware of the relationship you’ve forged in their absence. PAIRINGS: Attuma x Reader, Wakandan!Reader, T’challa + Shuri Sister!Reader TAGS/WARNINGS: angst ; hurt and comfort 

You lost your siblings during The Blip. 

T’challa had turned to dust right before Okoye, Shuri scattered somewhere out on the battlefield; and a weight unlike any other (the weight only your brother knew) settled around shoulders when the wind did not claim you, too. 

At only seventeen, you had been reduced to an only child by the snap of a Madman’s fingers. Expected to ascend the throne now that your older siblings could not. Not that you would, given your distaste of politics and the UN Embassy in general.

Where T’challa was King and Shuri led your scientific division, you had trained under the tutelage of the Dora Milage. Had become one of the best warriors of the country in spite of your youth, expected to surpass Okoye once you reached her age.  

Your natural skill had fuelled your desire to join the War Dogs before N’Jadaka had come into the picture (as Princess, you could not join the Dora Milaje officially), a dream you had to contribute to the safety of your Kingdom and your brother’s reign under the aloofness of being the youngest child.

In the eyes of the world that remained, however, this was not possible when your existence, your survival, received constant praise by Nations who hungered for someone young and naive to ascend the throne.

To their displeasure, you’d assumed leadership over the secret division of your country instead, entertained by the thought of Colonisers dictating what you did with yourself. Your amusement further peaked as you presented yourself publicly as Wakanda’s Consulate General alongside your natural title as Princess.  

With your Mother maintaining the throne and dealing with politics, you’d spent the first three years working diligently to forget your siblings’ absence. Your own grief and shame.

Someone had to stamp out the political unrest in your country, had to re-establish Wakanda’s spy-network in the midst of mounting political tension around the world.

And you had done it all at from seventeen to twenty, held together by the love of your Queen Mother and spurred on by the council of your closest confidants, Okoye, Aneka, Ayo and, surprisingly, the Jabari’s own M’Baku. 

The success of your network around the world had earned you the respect of many, though nothing cemented your legacy more than what happened during the Wakandan three-day-Massacre: 

The Marube Tribe were a relic of time, isolated from the rest of your country when they denounced the advancement of your technology.

Deep in the Mute Lands, they’d practiced old customs and studied even older texts where, in the shadow of Thanos’ terror, they’d turn to ancient techniques to make their warriors strong. Stronger than even the Black Panther. 

Since they could not ingest Vibranium through the heart-shaped herb, a group of their men had etched it into their flesh. Tattooed the raw substance into the planes of their body so they could flow better with nature.

And for a brief time, it worked. The process had given them unnatural durability and strength, the ability to run faster than the wind and yet capable of moving the Earth with a stomp of their foot.

Only, Vibranium itself is radioactive unless tempered with a substance only Shuri and her division knew how to make.

And with your sister and her team gone, ashes in the wind; the Marube tribe, without knowing the consequences, inadvertently kickstarted what might’ve been the doom of your people with the creation of the Madmen. 

As Vibranium had become one with flesh, the radiation did not blister skin nor melt flesh from bone. Instead, it drove the person to madness, to a murderous rage that would not end and was made even worse by the indestructibility of their bodies.

In a single night, the Madmen decimated nearly their entire village before they took to their neighbours. 

When the missive came the following morning, your Queen Mother demanded only for the Dora Milaje to go, for them put an end to the madness before it reached the Golden City.

What she seemed to forget was that the last Madman you fought murdered your siblings, so you could not, would not, simply remain in the Palace.

And so as stealthily as you could for someone who’d learned many tricks from Nakia, you followed your warrior-sisters beyond the throne room, grateful that Okoye turned a blind eye when she caught you amongst their numbers. 

The battle against the Madmen had been a ruthless and bloody affair. 

The people who fought with you and against you were your own people; the land you fought on once roamed by your Ancestors; yet no amount of familiarity could diminish the brutality of war as the Madmen slaughtered your people in masses, pushed your team deeper into the battlefield and towards the centre of their ruined Tribe like wolves surrounding sheep.

Just as you thought you had reached your end, had stood back-to-back with Okoye, Aneka and Ayo and readied yourself for death, Bast had smiled on you that day as the survivors of the massacre–women and children who’d hidden themselves beneath the ground–opened a hidden hatch and welcomed your group into their refuge.  

The Marube people may have denounced modern Wakanda; but they were Wakandan all the same.

For almost half an hour, you and the warriors huddled with them in the dark of their underground cave system where you’d grieved and planned, prayed for your Ancestors to see you through another day even when the Madmen waited for you above. 

It had been one of the Elders who survived, a woman named J’Kobe who weakly presented the idea of someone undergoing the same process as the men above to turn the tides of the battle. She who suggested bestowing a great power upon someone, anyone, so that they could end the Madmen’s bloodshed once and for all before madness took them.

It would be a sacrifice, went unsaid. 

As the determination settled on Okoye’s brow and Ayo and Aneka shared a sad, resigned smile (they’d realised too that the Madmen could not be beat as their weapons bent under the pressure of their strength)–you had stepped towards J’Kobe with the memory of your family and your people, the smile of a toddler who bared your brother’s name, as you knelt at her feet and offered yourself before they could.

Your siblings had been gone for three years, and in those three years you’d found no dignified way of joining them until then: ...though of course, you didn’t actually die as you thought you would. 

Even now, you could not remember what had happened down in those tunnels, how long your friends had argued against your decision before you laid on your back and then your stomach, the pain immeasurable as they and J’Kobe embedded the Vibranium along different areas of your body. 

Tattooed by your countries most fearsome warriors and one of the last practitioners of old, you did what many thought was impossible when you ascended the tunnels with fresh tattoos that glowed purple and a newfound strength to greet the Madmen as an equal match. 

On the third day of the three-day-Massacre, you gave your people a new protector as you stood over the Madmen who lay at your feet, defeated: 

Olumo, J’Kobe called you. 

Molded by God. 

After the battle had been won, and you’d marched with your Warriors and the survivors home to prepare to be put down, to apologise to your Mother one last time before calling Nakia; like the wind that did not claim you when your siblings disappeared, death did not take you in the end, too. 

Because your Father, his Father and so on, ingested Vibranium through the heart-shaped herb, they’d altered their genetics and granted their children and lineage invulnerability to the radiation of Vibranium. 

Meaning you would not be lost to madness from the procedure after all, a stroke of luck for your friends who considered sacrificing themselves. 

Since then, you’d fought many battles as Olumo, the disciple of Ptah and Kokou. Had succeeded in many minor and major battles that helped you carve your own legacy as you fought for True Wakanda, your Vibranium tattoos a symbol of your service and devotion. 

There were days, of course, when the power you’d been bestowed stirred uncomfortably. Days where you felt restless in your own skin, plagued with the undeniable urge to move, run and fight. 

You’d always been a warrior than a leader. 

The Dora Milage, adored as they were, were supportive in this regard; always ready to give you an outlet to rid yourself of this feeling as you fought and sparred them in the safety of your Kingdom. 

Even M’Baku and his warriors, through a rare sight in the Capital, sparred with you when they could. 

It wasn’t until you met him, though, that you felt more alive than you’d felt in the past three years. Felt seen and understood in a way that your friends and Mother could not and would likely ever understand, given the power and responsibilities you now held. 

His name was Attuma, and he called himself the greatest warrior in the underworld. 

NOTES: 

• This is Part 1 (context; your POV) of a three-part-story. 

• Part 2 (snippets of you and him during moments in-between; his POV) will be coming soon. 

• Your background is inspired by the BLACK PANTHER #7 (Origins of Vibranium) + BLACK PANTHER #3 (#200 Legacy) 

• Ptah the Shaper is considered the god of metal alloys, mainly Vibranium whereas Kokou is considered the Wakandan god of War

TAGLIST:

@tommymcartney ; thanks for inspiring me to keep writing! 📝

[dontask-idkeither]

Hold me by the heart

Shuri x Black!Fem!Reader

Word count: 1.4k

Summary: When Shuri is at her absolute worst, you were always right there to hold her and comfort her.

Translation: Ungubani -> Who are you?

Note: T’Challa is very heavily involved here and the overall all fic is pretty sad. This also heavy with grief and has a major Wakanda Forever spoiler, just in case you haven’t watched the movie yet.

Y/F/N means your father’s name, I couldn’t really think of a name to put for that so

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

2016

Being an war-dog stationed in Austria was not how you expected to be spending your 18th and 19th years of life. After a year in the Austria, you missed everything about home. The air, the water, the people, the food, your culture, your family, your girlfriend. You were sat on the couch in the apartment that had been given to you, clicking through tv stations.

You got to the news to see that the Vienna International Center had been bombed. You sat up as you listened to the headline. When the broadcaster said that King T’Chaka of Wakanda had been assassinated, your heart stopped.

Images of the building on fire, smoke clouds darkening the sky, flashed on your screen. But they didn’t register. The only thing flooding your mind was that your King was dead. Your countries ruler was gone.

And then your mind drifted to your girlfriend, the princess of Wakanda, Shuri. You hadn’t noticed your tears until heavy knocks came to your door. You wiped the tears and looked through the peephole.

There you saw two members of the Dora Milaje at his side. You immediately opened the door and they glided in.

“Ungubani” “Y/N, daughter of Y/F/N” You pulled your bottom lip down to show your war-dog tattoo to the Dora.

T’Challa walked into the apartment. You didn’t look at him for very long, as you lightly bowed your head, but the devastation was clear as day.

“My Prince.” You said as you bowed lightly. You knew very well you weren’t required to do this, it was more so to please the Dora than because of a distant relationship.

T’Challa just pulled you into a hug which you returned instantly. You stayed there for some time, trying to comfort the man you had known as an older brother for years.

He pulled away but left a hand on your shoulder “It’s time for you to come home.” You nodded and you knew the implications behind it.

You knew T’Challa wouldn’t be returning home for long, he was telling you so you could be there for Shuri.

You packed away your things as fast as possible and hurried to the Royal Talon Fighter. The flight was spent mostly in silence, you leaning on T’Challa’s shoulder as a form of comfort. He greatly appreciated it.

When you landed, you were overcome with nerves. You hadn’t been home in a year and the first time you return, is because the man you viewed as a second father was now with the ancestors.

You stood at the top of the stairs and almost went into a panic. T’Challa’s hand squeezed your shoulder in encouragement, you took a deep breath and descended down the stairs.

You saw your girlfriend and her mother standing side by side in front of the palace. Her red, teary eyes lit up when she saw you. She waited until you were some feet away from the plane before she ran into your arms.

You welcomed her and held the back of her head. The world didn’t matter as you held her, all you wanted was to ease her pain. “Thank you for coming.” She said through her tears.

“Shh, no need to thank me.” You pulled away to hold her face, her hands held your wrists. “I will always be here for you.”

2018

N’Jadaka had killed T’Challa. Right in front of your eyes. Your body and mind had gone numb. You sat in one of Wakanda’s lush forests, and for the first time the scenery of Wakanda didn’t have any effect on your sour mood.

Your heartbroken girlfriend sat between your legs, holding your knee as she cried. You had one hand massaging her scalp. Her mother sat in front of you, holding her hand and yours.

“First Baba, and now my brother. Mama we didn't even get to bury him.” You shushed her. Ramonda wiped her tears.

You wished you could be of more comfort for her, but your own pain was rendering you silent.

In a way though, the severity of your own emotion helped Shuri understand that she was not alone in this. She wouldn’t be missing her brother alone. She had her mother, and she had you.

2024

Shuri had been working around her lab trying to find a cure for her brother. You had gone some time before to say your goodbyes to T’Challa in the event he didn’t make it.

You told him how much he meant to you, as a brother, a friend, and as an overall inspiration. You told him that if he didn’t have any fight left in him, that it was ok. That you would take care of his beloved mother and baby sister, that you would protect them with your life. You told him that you would dedicate your life to protecting his honor and his memory, and to making him proud.

With a final squeeze of his hand, you left the room he was in and ran back to the lab. Over the years, Shuri had taught you a lot about technology and you were ready to offer your help in any way you could.

When you got to the lab, people were rushing out. You walked in confused. You saw Shuri standing alone at one of her tables. You walked over to her and before you could say anything, you saw Ramonda walk in.

You felt nauseous because you knew what this meant. You tried to hold it back, but a sob ripped through your chest and you turned away.

“Griot, whats my brothers heart rate?” Shuri asked, voice thick with fear.

“Your brother, is with the ancestors.”

Shuri slowly walked backwards, all the emotion hitting at once. She only heard a faint ringing in her ears and her head felt as if it would explode. Before she fell to the floor in complete agony, your arms wrapped around her weak body.

You eased her way to the floor and she held your biceps tight as she loudly cried. Seeing her in this much pain only worsened your own, you threw your head back as to not see the hurt. You bit your lip so hard you tasted hints of blood. Ramonda slowly walked over to her grieving girls.

The funeral

You still did not feel worthy to walk alongside the Royal Family through this. Despite all the assurances by Ramonda that you belonged there, and Shuri saying how badly you were needed, you still felt unworthy.

You swallowed those insecurities and walked with your head high, but face riddled with exhaustion and all the overall grief you were facing.

T’Challa’s coffin was placed on the ground and before it was lifted, Shuri placed her body over it. Ramonda went to pull her back, but you lightly put your arm in front of her. She looked at you with confusion but you knew Shuri needed this moment.

She didn’t get to properly say goodbye to her own brother, this was her own way of doing that now. After some time, you moved your arm and nodded. Ramonda lightly pulled a broken Shuri from her brother’s coffin and back to her feet.

Shuri placed her face in your neck and you placed your hand on the back of her head.

2025

After the passing of King T’Chaka, you never thought you would leave Wakanda again. Now after losing T’Challa and Ramonda, and all the death you saw in your country, you couldn’t bear to be there. You needed to be far, in order to heal.

That is how you ended up with Shuri in Haiti. You had burned your funeral garments together on the beach and began to heal together.

Right now you sat in your room, writing in your journal. Writing out every thought and feeling you had throughout the day. Shuri had gone for a walk, she felt she needed to be alone with her thoughts.

You had no clue how long you had been writing when the door to your room creaked open. You looked up with a smile to see your lover, but your smile fell when you saw the state she was in.

Her thoughts had clearly taken her down a dark path. She stood in the doorway pulling at her sleeve as she cried. You almost jumped from your chair to hold her.

She kept her arms where they were but she just cried even harder when you held her. “I’m here love. I’m here.”

To that she pulled you in even closer. “Make it stop…” she begged to no one in particular. Your heart broke even further.

You wished you could. You wished you could take all her pain away. Wished you could take all for yourself. But you couldn’t.

What you could and would do, is hold her. Hold her through it all just as you had always done.

[thislilstangirl]

bast’s gamble: shuri’s descent into godhood

shuri’s brief stint as a goddess (symbolically/mythically/whatever) is probably one of the most fascinating parts of wakanda forever. and i call it a descent into godhod because there’s nothing glorious about it. it’s ugly, fiery and brutal. it’s very nearly a tragedy: shuri praying for bast to save her brother, her prayers being ‘ignored’, only for bast to grant her power to seek retribution and to find vengeance corroding shuri from the inside.

shuri’s descent into godhood starts with her death. the heart shaped herb is represents spiritual death and rebirth- the person gets transported to the ancestral plane, meets their ancestors , and then awakes from a burial blessed with the powers of the goddess bast. it serves a unique role of both killing and reviving the individual. and the only way for shuri to become a goddess, is to be reborn into one.

shuri wants the will of a warrior. she wants to be strong enough to best namor, have him beg for mercy, and kill him. through n’jadaka, she is asking bast for the power to enact retribution. and whose role usually is it to dish out punishment and retribution in legend and lore? a god’s. shuri, consciously or not, is asking for the power of a god.

i think bast is aware of shuri’s previous non-belief and understands that granting the powers of the black panther to shuri will enable her path of retribution. shuri literally sets the ancestral plane on fire with her fury. and yet, bast obliges with her request and gives her strength to burn the whole world if she wishes. the question is why? we don’t know much about bast in the mcu, but in marvel comics she has a strong sense of morality and justice. bast casts judgement and decides who is and who isn’t worthy of the becoming black panther. she has even denied shuri before.

depending on how you see bast, shuri becoming the black panther could either be seen as a punishment or a test. for the former, it’s a classic case of hubris. granting shuri the power to obtain the one thing she believes she needs, but knowing that it will only lead to more pain and misery for her. all of this as punishment for her non-belief and vindictive spirit. shuri, in her state of anger and vengeance, will cause her own self destruction.

the second reason is more in line with a journey of a hero. shuri is given the power to cause eternal war and the gamble is that shuri will know better and and walk back from the precipice. there is an understanding that shuri has a goddess’ anger, but a protector’s heart. and there is a hope that shuri will give up the former for the latter. bast risked the fate of wakanda and the world on this gamble. i want to believe this reason. it’s more hopeful.

for whatever reason, shuri becomes the black panther. but with a goddess’ touch everything is amplified. shuri’s once casual confidence turns to arrogance, her rage becomes wrath. we see shuri (as i love saying) become a vengeful goddess. she’s dismissive of nakia and m’baku. the lives of her people come second to her goal of killing namor. it’s been a while since i’ve seen a female character be this ugly in her anger. it’s amazing.

we know how it ends, with a spear on namor’s neck and shuri about to do the deed that causes eternal war- a goddess queen killing a god king. shuri is also about to kill her mirror image, something that will irreversibly wound her deeply. but then, bast’s gamble pays off. her protector’s heart fights against her goddess’ rage. her kindness and empathy are inextinguishable beacons despite her grief. shuri does not walk off the cliff edge. maybe as encouragement or as a gift, bast allows ramonda to give a brief message to her daughter. and in that moment, shuri lets go of her godhood, an amplifier of her anger, and instead stands as a warrior and protector over namor.

and if bast was intending to punish and not test? then it’s love changes shuri’s tragic fate. the love she has for her people, the love namor has for his people, the love between child and mother, the connection between two people who understand each other entirely. just like a fairytale, love conquers all and shuri is able to relinquish her fury. bast, impressed, accepts this twist of fate and allows shuri to continue being the black panther.

there was something mesmering and powerful about shuri’s emotions during her stint as a goddess. i like to think bast knew shuri could cope with the weight of godhood and not be crushed by it. at least for a small amount of time. i also think shuri is at peace without that righteous rage. she’s no longer burning, she’s surviving. and with clarity of mind she’s able to become the protector bast was gambling on.

[uzumaki-rebellion]

"King Killmonger: The Golden Jaguar" Preview!

Summary:

N'Jadaka prepares to wed Yani, his influential Caribbean fiance, in the most anticipated social event across the land. The new King of Wakanda continues to make global changes on a level that T'Challa refused to do. The C.I.A.'s discovery of vibranium in the ocean brings on the re-emergence of Namor during a Mama Wati celebration. Wakanda's new battle with the Talokanil tests the Golden Jaguar’s resolve to transform his nation into the preeminent superpower on earth. He leans on Yani and Ramonda to reign in the serious infighting among the noble class while presenting Shuri with a life-altering choice: Take over the mantle of Black Panther in her brother's absence.

“I will be one of the greatest That is a vow, yeah, that is a promise Always wanted to be famous Just being real, yeah, just being honest

My haters gon' always be nameless Give them no cloud, I give them no power

Creators built different, they ancient Sooner than later, all will be ours…”

Iniko—“The King’s Affirmation”

King N’Jadaka Udaku of the Panther Tribe from the kingdom of Wakanda sat at the head table for the Congressional Black Caucus’s newly minted Pan-African symposium/dinner inside of the National Museum of African American History and Culture. The event brought together Black leaders from all over the world that wanted to take part in shaping their future with the influence of Black American politicians after the great disaster of the Infinity War.

The king sipped from a glass of lemon water with his young Executive Assistant Mpilo by his side, very much aware of the eyes dragging across his intimidating figure in the midst of seventy-five world politicians of African descent with their various entourages. Hundreds of women and men allowed to participate in the momentous gathering chanced looking his way to assess what kind of man he was on this rare occasion that N’Jadaka came to Washington, D.C.

He grew accustomed to being the rare Black man of real power surrounded by other Black leaders that tried to balance governing in the face of American neo-imperialism. The people in that room would’ve given up their firstborn child just to be in his presence, especially the representatives from Sudan and Ethiopia. Thanos’s ridiculous plan to snap problems away only created more dire ones on earth and Africa suffered as a result. The rise of new warloads and the loss of faith in democracy sprouted far and wide. Slavery, coups, and genocide had ramped up. Troubled nations in the motherland looked to Wakanda and not the U.S. for leadership, and that made N’Jadaka’s stay in his former homeland dangerous. The C.I.A. had a bench warrant of death on his head. Western powers wanted the king of Wakanda eliminated.

The Golden Jaguar sighed and pressed his hands on his thighs and flexed his fingers to offset the ribbons of tension coursing through him. Despite it being an all Black affair, there were enemy ops in the conference hall among them. The Dora Milaje and his Onyx Squad remained visible and dispersed throughout the perimeter, their smart-looking uniforms marking them as superior protection among the American security hired to keep unwelcome outsiders from trying to sneak an audience with the Wakandan king.

This attempt at a heavily-publicized gathering of Black international elites became a way for powerless Black politicians in the U.S. to rival and possibly supplant N’Jadaka’s influential UDC creation that made waves in under a year. No matter what power-to-the-people slogans were used to get them in office, Black American politicians were still…politicians. No different than their white counterparts that only worried about getting re-elected and stuffing their pockets with money, connections, and a fat board member assignment or consultation position on some corporations dime after retirement. No matter the pithy declarations about supporting the Black community he heard all evening, there were wolves in the room seeking access to more power. The white American power structure lit a fire under the CBC’s ass to put together something that would convince diaspora Africans to join with them instead of the Wakandans. N’Jadaka knew what it was and decided to participate anyway. Just to let the CBC know he was watching them closely and feigning diplomacy. America was a weak and decaying order. The bored king found solace in knowing he would be its demise.

N’Jadaka tapped his hand on the fancy table cloth. Mpilo took note of his mood and quickly checked his comm tab for the expected time of arrival for Yani and the children. The trip abroad had lasted two weeks, most of it spent at the United Nations in Geneva, and meetings in New York, London, and South Africa. N’Jadaka cancelled a trip to Saudi Arabia when one of the crown princes of an oil billionaire insulted him on a viral vid. He made an example of them by snubbing a much-anticipated visit there. Any form of anti-Blackness anywhere was swiftly aired out. Mexico, Argentina, Spain, France, Italy, and the Dominican Republic were already smarting from his public call-out of their treatment of Black people due to an increase of racialized violence targeting poor Black citizens in their nations. With Yani’s urging and Ramonda’s powerful voice as an ambassador, there was a rallying call against global femcide in the wake of the disappearance of so many people.

The U.S. didn’t let the great loss of citizens stop their continuing encroachment of resources and they took advantage of pumping predatory capitalism along. What could’ve been a moment of self-reflection, a shift in priorities, and a new way of being for the country as a whole was simply an opportunity to prey on weaker nations even harder. Their only hindrance in achieving more power was the rise of Wakanda under N’Jadaka’s leadership. He instilled fear in every nation that wanted life to go on the same way, and he also gave hope to those parts that saw a chance at progressive changes aligning with Wakanda. The western powers still gasped at his U.N. speech criticizing colonial apartheid in Palestine and Gaza. The gasp turned into full-fledged choking when he charged genocide co-signed and funded by the Americans. Once he pontificated on the historical similarities between Gaza, South Africa, and the Black American segregation of his own people, his War Dogs got wind of Mossad operations trying to penetrate Wakandan intelligence through the C.I.A.

Back home, the continent was split.

African nations that had long been ignored and left to suffer on their own benefitted from supporting Wakanda. N’Jadaka flooded their lands with tech support, agricultural advances, doctors, and a quick rebuilding of infrastructures with his Wakandan Humanitarian Corps that embarrassed the U.S.. At N’Jadaka’s urging, Azania and Caanan had stopped selling uranium, colbalt, and platinum to anyone outside of Africa in exchange for advanced agricultural expansion. Mining had ruined and polluted their lands with run-off depleting usable soil and water. Rapid climate change didn’t help them either and the neighboring nations were on the verge of famine. Wakanda helped clean their water, soil, and air for free, allowing farmers to produce a bumper crop that saved millions from starvation. Those who had been malnourished received the best medical treatment, and once snatched from the brink of disaster, Azania and Caanan were staunch allies for good.

Niganda and Mohannda were a different story, currying favor from the CBC leaders and complaining to the U.S. president that Wakanda was a global threat to sovereignty. The other African nations galvanized by the freely given help, threw all of their allegiance to the Wakandans, thus leading other unaligned African nations to fear him creating a United States of Wakanda to rule them all.

It wasn’t a bad idea.

He never acknowledged those types of concerns and just let the rumors grow to keep his enemies on their toes. His own father N’Jobu had flirted with visions of a united continent under Wakandan rule in his journals. Currently, N’Jadaka scrambled to replace War Dogs lost to the blip in order to keep his finger on the pulse of other nations.

“Princess Yani will arrive within the next two hours. They have crossed onto the Atlantic,” Mpilo said.

N’Jadaka nodded. He gave Mpilo a full-time job as his personal assistant since the loss of his father in the snap. The king had no idea the young man suffered that loss until months after the memorial honoring the lost ones. Mpilo did his work professionally until Yani brought the news to his attention. She recognized Mpilo’s family name from one of the palace attendants sending personal condolences to their staff on her behalf. When N’Jadaka questioned him, Mpilo broke down in tears in the king’s office. His father and two oldest brothers had vanished leaving behind his mother and baby sister. Barely an adult, Mpilo now had the responsibility of looking out for his immediate family. N’Jadaka terminated his fellowship and gave him a permanent job title as his executive assistant.

The king let out a sigh of relief. He needed to be with his family again. Normally Yani would be with him, but she was on her own global tour promoting her book, “The Wakandan Way of Birth”. Their children traveled with her and he caught interview segments of her in three countries. The world was enamored with the exotic princess. It was her first appearance outside of Wakanda representing the nation. N’Jadaka grinned thinking about the reaction of the Caribbean. The entire region went nuts finding out officially that an island girl had snagged the most powerful man in the world.

She promoted the book in St. Thomas first, and he hated not being there with her. She traveled to Jamaica next to visit the land of her father and paid her respects to their relatives there. In the midst of the new global normal, Yani’s book became a smashing success. All proceeds went to funding her midwifery scholarships to further the number of Black and Native midwives and doulas learning at the Wakandan birthing centers. The money allowed women to focus fulltime on their craft without monetary restraints. She planned to give more once she became queen because the palace allotted a salary for Queen Consorts that she planned to use for more income-based scholarships. Wherever there were Black and Indigenous women in need, Yani made sure they took priority over anyone else.

Everyone wanted their hands on the book. A Wakandan publishing company mass marketed the coffee-table sized manauscript, and they looked exquisite. The cover was created by a Birnin S’Yan artisan who made a vibranium-tinged dye that was threaded into a gorgeous royal purple and silver cloth overlay. The book had fifty full-page color photos that Yani spent months agonizing over from a total of 200. The cover photo itself deserved to hang in a museum. It showed a young woman holding her newborn daughter and they were both dressed in the vibrant colors of the River Tribe.

When the pre-release online sales skyrocketed, Yani made the decision to only provide non-online sales out of Wakanada through global Black bookstores. The international brick and mortar stores made bank with the flood of non-Black customers wanting their hands on something from Wakanda. Even people who weren’t even interested in childbirth or culture clamored to snatch up a copy just to get a glimpse of what Wakanda looked like from the inside. The first print sold out in one week.

The talks finally ended and the affair moved into a spacious outdoor dining area where a small jazz trio played music in a corner. The balmy weather made it comfortable to be outside and he took in a deep inhale of D.C. air.

Okoye and Ayo kept the pre-dinner rush to talk to the king at a distance, giving N’Jadaka time to snag a moment of peace. After ten minutes he shook hands and greeted caucus leaders, trying not to look annoyed at their requests for selfies with him. He obliged to be polite and to give an air of camaraderie.  Everyone wanted everyone else to think they had connections to him by how loud they talked or laughed with him. He knew the drill.

The hosts ushered his entourage to their dining seats near the front of another podium. No one pretended to be sly about sneaking candids of him with their smartphones.

“King N’Jadaka, your son is here to see you right away,” Ayo whispered in his ear.

N’Jadaka looked around and spotted Riki walking out from the museum with his personal Dora, Quamba. All the diners stopped to watch the prince of Wakanda walk through with his hands behind his back and his eyes searching for his Baba. Some people tried to snap photos of Riki, but all of N’Jadaka’s children wore necklaces that thwarted any cameras from getting clear pictures of them by jamming up electronics and flash photography cameras.

Riki looked too clean.

Yani braided his hair in the spiral style of his Wakandan ancestors, threaded with shells and beads that bounced around his shoulders. This week, Riki wore jade and black fingernail polish decorated with mini panther claws in bright gold which was the rage of young children in Birnin Zana who loved their local team that played a popular sport called ukudlala ngomlenze…leg play. It was a game that required balance, and intense leg flexibility as two teams battled each other on a low swinging wooden bridge that moved across a deep body of water. One member of each team took turns standing in the center of the swinging bridge as the other team members of the challenging team split up on either side to rock the opponent off their feet, without any of their own teammates falling over too. The narrow bridge swung higher and higher, pushing athletes to go against gravity, their exhausted limbs put to the test for long durations. N’Jadaka had promised Riki a trip to the national competition in the River Tribe territory once they returned home.

Riki’s black royal sash rested snug across his chest with the family crest blazoned on it. The boy was seven-years old and sprouting a bit of height. He was almost as tall as Sydette and would probably surpass her by the time he was eight. Riki’s eyes lit up when he spotted N’Jadaka.

“Baba!”

The boy ran past chuckling adults who admired the tailored royal suit and polished shoes. N’Jadaka held his arms out and his son jumped onto his lap and kissed his cheek. The happy king wrapped his child up in love.

“I’ve missed your busy behind,” N’Jadaka said. “Where’s your Mama and the girls?”

“Changing clothes. I couldn’t wait to see you,” Riki said, squeezing his arms around N’Jadaka’s neck.

“Good trip, Dumplin?”

“Yes. People went crazy for Mama and her book. I’m ready to go home though. I don’t like this country…the people here are so fake. They only like you if you’re rich or famous.”

“Hungry?”

Riki nodded and scanned the tables for the evening’s selection. He scrunched up his nose at the servers placing rolls and butter on the tables.

“Can we eat this food, Baba?” Riki asked.

“We have people watching the chef in the kitchen.”

The Udaku children had been taught to reject outside food unless their parents permitted them to partake. N’Jadaka had become cautious with poisoning and normally had his own personal chef make all of their food, but he opted to watch the American cooks this time around instead of turning down a plate. The head chef for the evening was a famous Black American from New Orleans who read that N’Jadaka liked food from that region and wanted to create a menu to impress the powerful king.

“Sit next to me,” N’Jadaka said, pulling out a chair for Riki.

Mpilo took a seat across from them at the circular table that seated twelve. Members of the CBC organizing committee greeted him then took their seats at other tables. The jazz music grew softer as guests took their seats all throughout the guarded space. A congresswoman from Philly took to the podium near N’Jadaka’s area and announced the arrival of Yani and Ramonda. Eager applause broke out and N’Jadaka stood up from his seat. He helped Riki stand in his chair so he could see his mother and aunt enter.

N’Jadaka’s Uncle Bakari escorted Yani and Ramonda together as Sydette and Joba walked in front of them wearing matching purple dresses with their hair twisted and pulled back with amethyst panther-shaped hair clips. Yani mesmerized the crowd in a shimmery emerald green dress that revealed all her curves. She styled her hair with extensions in an upswept fancy roll that denoted her status as queen-to-be. Ramonda had the crowd transfixed with her tall purple isicholo and deep purple gown. Uncle Bakari was dapper in his black tux. N’Jadaka’s grandfather Dante escorted Bakari’s wife Shavonne and they all made their way toward the front where their Dora Milaje escorts brought them to the king’s table.

Sydette and Joba dashed to him first and he picked up both girls and smothered their faces with kisses amidst their squeals of delight for being with him again. He put them down the moment Yani reached him and he couldn’t hide from the world his love for her.

His arms wrapped around her tight and he pressed his forehead against hers. The tense energy in his body drained down into the floor and he exhaled a long breath. Yani rested her arms around his massive shoulders, her perfume drowning him in memories of their shared bed and the last time they had been alone without the world watching their every move.

“Baby, I missed you so much.”

“I know. I couldn’t wait to get here and hold you.”

“You know these niggas is starin’ so we better play it cool for Ramonda’s sake.”

Yani giggled and pulled away from him. He kissed her hand and turned to Ramonda, giving his auntie double kisses on both cheeks. He hugged his grandpop next and finally showed love to his American aunt and uncle who raised him after his parents died. They all took their seats at the dining table. Yani sat at his right, and Riki, Joba, and Sydette took over his left side.

As the first courses of salads, soups, and finger foods were brought out, announcements were made. The head chef was brought out and recognized. N’Jadaka allowed the nervous man to take a picture with him holding up a plate of sausage gumbo with rice. There was special recognition given to Yani, along with a surprise plaque presented to Ramonda for her role as an ambassador fostering goodwill between America and Wakanda.

N’Jadaka caught up with his aunt and uncle and the family chatter reminded him of being home except they were being watched like fish in a fishbowl. When dessert and coffee were brought out at the end of the meal, Ramonda switched seats with Riki and leaned in toward the king.

“President Mubiri would like to have a nightcap with you during the mixer inside the museum,” Ramonda said.

“Why?”

Ramonda’s sharp eyes observed the guests.

“He believes D.C. is neutral ground and he would like to discuss rumors of you inciting a coup in his nation.”

“Sounds like C.I.A. bullshit.”

“Even so, it wouldn’t hurt to appear cordial. Get some photos taken that shows two rival nations talking together. Yani is your icebreaker. Madame Mubiri is here, too. A nice photo-op of beautiful African women mingling will make the CBC very happy.”

N’Jadaka glanced at Yani’s fingers. She had on her deadly finger armor. Hopefully she wouldn’t threaten the man again.

He signaled for Quamba and several Onyx Squad security to take his children and grandfather back to their penthouse suite at the hotel they were lodged in for the weekend. He hugged and kissed the children promising to read a bedtime story to them later. People moved out of the way and stared at his heirs. All three children walked like royalty, heads held high, backs kept straight.

The after dinner mixer started inside the lobby of the museum where a giant abstract art installation above their heads looked like the unfurling of giant bronze ribbons. N’Jadka read the description of the sculpture that was supposed to represent the swinging motions like a band of angels coming down to carry Black Americans back home like the old spiritual “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot”. The artist, Richard Hunt, used suspended cables to anchor the work, and the swooping arcs of the bronze bands reminded N’Jadaka of his mother’s arms around his body when he was small.

Several servers traipsed the lobby carrying drinks and savory finger foods. A D.J. played contemporary R&B and the guests relaxed into full-blown partying mode. Bakari and Shavonne headed toward a display of Harriet Tubman’s shawl further inside the museum and Mpilo escorted Ramonda to meet some caucus members who were dying to be seen with her.

N’Jadaka held out his arm and Yani rested her hand on it. She walked with a majestic stride that matched his and they mingled for a bit. Yani’s charm was her greatest weapon and they spent a considerable amount of time discussing her book and tour. Her radiance overwhelmed a few people who couldn’t stop admiring her even as they moved on to other guests. The allure of power was a true aphrodisiac, and Yani wielded it well. All of her Wakandan training and years of experience dealing with all sorts of people paid off in spades as she delighted American dignitaries. He couldn’t stop staring at her himself. Her voice lit up his face and he smiled at everything she said. Yani’s youth also surprised people. She would be entering her late twenties soon enough, but carried a greater maturity and self-awareness in the last year representing Wakanda internationally.

They worked the first three corners of the lobby before the mixer branched out to the rest of the museum, and they headed toward President Mubiri and Madame Mubiri who lingered near a replica of a slave quarter. The Mohanndan president stood with a glass of liquor in his hand entertaining cronies as his wife watched her husband’s dour animated face with his uppercase gums spilling over his lowercase teeth. Her eyes sparked up when Yani approached holding out her hands toward the woman.

“Madame Habiba Mubiri, I finally get to see you again in a less formal setting,” Yani enthused.

Yani ignored Mubiri and immediately pulled Habiba away from her husband, touching her hand in informal friendship.

“Mubiri,” N’Jadaka said, offering his hand. Mubiri shook it.

“King N’Jadaka.”

Yani reached for a glass of wine from a server that had been freshly poured from the bar. She presented it to N’Jadaka using the ancient submissive stance of queens in Wakanda, holding the glass up to him with her right hand, while her other hand cradled the elbow of the serving arm. N’Jadaka caught the lust in Mubiri’s eyes again for his fiancé. He took the glass from Yani and kissed her cheek.

“Thank you, baby,” he said.

“May I please borrow Madame Mubiri? I would love to introduce her to the head organizer,” Yani asked Mubiri.

It was clear that Mubiri didn’t want his wife to do anything, but Yani’s seductive voice couldn’t be denied. She played on the man’s need to control women by asking his permission. Her earlier exaggerated submissive act toward N’Jadaka fed into the man’s cultural ego. Yani upped the ante by touching his arm and squeezing it. Her touch ignited something in the president and he lifted his wife’s arm and practically threw her at Yani.

“I’m sure you two have some important things to discuss without us present,” she added.

“Enjoy yourselves,” Mubiri said, his gaze plastered all over Yani’s figure as the two women strolled further into the heart of the museum.

N’Jadka pretended to drink his wine while being focused on something else until Yani was gone.

“I thank you for the personal invitation to your wedding King N’Jadaka. I didn’t think you would extend us any welcome to your country again.”

“It’s a time of celebration, not political intrigue. Yani wanted your wife there. They have been corresponding for a time getting to know each other. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

“And miss the nuptials of that delightful woman you parade around like a trophy? Never. We will attend and enjoy the splendor.”

They both drank in silence.

“Did you like the tour of the museum earlier?” N’Jadaka asked.

“An intriguing history lesson. You must be proud of your heritage here.”

“I am.”

“Rebels at heart. I see why the Americans want to control you.”

“I know you don’t want to stand here and shoot the shit about my lineage. You want to know if I’m plotting to throw you out of office.”

Mubiri choked on his drink as N’Jadaka stared at his face. The Mohanndan’s cronies flicked their eyes away in embarrassment, not expecting the king to be that blunt.

“What would I gain from having you taken out, Mubiri? There would only be another leader who thinks the same as you, so nothing would change. Pinning your hopes on the Americans holding me in check has not paid off in a year. I offer nothing but hope and a chance at directing Africa’s vast internal wealth and ancient wisdom back to where it belongs…on all of our people.”

“Our people? You Wakandans are stand-offish and think only of yourselves. These little excursions into other African nations giving them little trinkets of your resources reeks of a ploy to rule over us all. At least your uncle acted like a benevolent father-figure in the west.”

“My uncle was not the man you all think he was. I am telling you now, to your face Barasa Mubiri…I have no plans for a coup, an assassination, nor war with your country. Did you not read my fiancé’s book? Wakandans value peaceful living, enhancements to prolong life, and self-actualization that benefits the whole and not just the individual. We kept to ourselves for centuries even when we had the means to colonize the world and bend it to our will. But we didn’t.”

“I still think that is an option in your arsenal, King N’Jadaka.”

“I am from the school of ‘don’t start none, won’t be none’. My goal is transformative liberation for whomever wants it.”

“So-called liberators often transform into something sinister, if given the chance.”

The king moved closer to the east African president, closing the small gap between them.

“I only plan to bring hell to those who mean us harm. Do you plan to cause problems for us with this U.S. administration?” N’Jadaka asked.

Mubiri shook his head and smiled.

“I want peace and prosperity for our people too.”

“Good. You have heard directly from my mouth what I want. Let’s spend the rest of the evening showing the world that Africans can co-exist on the continent without people confirming their biases about us being warlords and despots. We can be civil with our disagreements. Everything doesn’t have to be bloodshed, or rumors of hostile take-overs.”

N’Jadaka excused himself with Okoye by his side.

[mickimomo]

Attoye-Week Snippets (Part 2)

Ok! So, I decided to not be a chaotic soul today and release the snippet for Day 1 of Attoye-Week. I’ll try to be good and work on Day 2 next. 💀 Enjoy the snippet and keep an eye out for my stuff when @attoye-week​ starts! 

Moonlight (First Kiss Prompt)

Whispers filled the gilded throne room as large holograms displayed several clips of masked people bursting into various facilities to steal misplaced pieces of vibranium.

“These are who… exactly?”

“They call themselves the Wrath of Killmonger.” Shuri spoke up, her dark brown eyes flickered over the many moving images as she sat on her throne.

“As in Erik?” Zawavari tilted her head. “N’Jadaka?”

Namor arched a brow as he glanced at the queen who sat beside him. “N’Jadaka?”

“Yes. He is a traitor of Wakanda. My brother handled him. He is dead.” She offered before tapping a few of her kimoyo beads to pull up a large map with several red dots. “Unfortunately, his dreams of unifying and bringing home the Lost Tribe did not die with him.” She sighed. “There are people out there working together to start an uprising to finish what he started.” She pointed at the map. “These are all of the facilities they’ve attacked so far to gather vibranium.”

“How much vibranium do you think they have?” The Merchant tribe elder looked at all the points.

“Just bits and pieces. Little scraps. Maybe enough to make another Captain America if they truly wished to.” Shuri offered. “It’s not like that Ultron incident where a mass of stolen vibranium was painfully obtained from a criminal we were trying to hunt down.”

M’Kathu scoffed. “Klaw.”

“Yes.”

Namor arched a brow. “Did your brother handle him as well?”

“No. Another traitor did.” She sighed. “He will be in prison until he dies of old age.”

“Ah.”

“Do you think this situation is serious enough for us to deploy the Dora Milaje?” The River tribe elder furrowed his eyebrows. “Or do you think the War Dogs will be sufficient?”

Shuri shook her head. “We must keep our defenses here strong, but I don’t think we should leave the War Dogs to their own defenses. We should treat these people as seriously as they appear. We do not want to repeat the mistakes we made with the people of Talokan.”

“I agree with the Queen.” M’Baku nodded. “If they are simply weeds that can become something harder to kill, we should wipe them out with our heaviest hitters and leave the Dora here to keep the people safe.”

“Then we should send what? The Late Night Angles?” Zawavari arched a brow.

Okoye rolled her eyes as she crossed her arms over her chest. “You mean the Midnight Angels?”

“Yes. That.” The elder stared at the former general with narrowed eyes. “Do you think you can handle this situation on your own? I know Aneka is currently recovering from a mission. It may be too much for one teal demon who has a reputation of failing.”

Okoye buried the urge to erupt by forcing on a hard smile.

“If the Queen commands it, it will happen without hesitation or failure.”

Dark brown eyes moved to Shuri with a question resting in them.

What do you want me to do?

Shuri stared at her for a moment before speaking. “Wipe them from the earth.”

Okoye crossed her arms across her chest in salute. “Ndiyabulela.” (Thank you.)

“I would like to offer a warrior to assist with this matter.” Namor spoke up. “I do not feel comfortable only sending one warrior out to fight an army.”

Okoye frowned. “Do you think I’m inadequate?”

“I do not see the point in burning you out. You do not know what you’re up against.”

“Anarchists with vibranium.” She shrugged. “I promise you, it’s nothing new.”

His gaze hardened. “Taking a comrade from Talokan will benefit you.”

“They will slow me down.”

“Attuma will not slow you down.”

The warrior went rigid before looking across the gilded throne room to see the mighty General looking her over.

“He will slow me down.” She corrected before glaring holes up at the king before looking at Shuri for help.

The king spoke before Shuri could open her mouth. “Attuma is the warrior that bested you-”

“-Once.”

“Once.” Namor nodded. “You know his ways and you know him well. Take him with you.”

“I do not know him.”

“In ba’ate’el.” (Warrior.) Attuma frowned.

Okoye ignored him before looking at Shuri once more. “Ukumkanikazi…” She called out to her.

Shuri allowed a sisterly look to slip through the cracks of her hardened gaze.

Okoye knew what it meant.

She didn’t want to see her getting hurt while trying to be mighty.

And for that reason, she’d have to suck it up and work with Attuma.

The midnight angel offered a firm, yet disappointed nod before curling a finger at Attuma.

“Ko’oten waye’.” She beckoned.

Whispers fell from the council at her use of the Talokanil’s mother tongue.

“How did she learn their language?”

“Is he truly a stranger to her?”

“Okoye is very odd.”

“Well, Okoye is always enthusiastic about learning new languages. Let’s not start claiming treason.”

“Shut up M’Kathu.”

M’Baku barked and they all fell silent.

Attuma approached the Wakandan slowly before stopping beside her.

His eyes rolled over her slowly before her he offered a nod as a greeting.

She didn’t even acknowledge his presence as she turned back to the royals.

“I will take him with me. We will be back once the mission is complete.” Okoye kept her expression devoid of her ever-growing irritation.

“May Bast give you strength.” Shuri offered.

Okoye saluted once more as she crossed her arms across her chest before turning around and walking out of the throne room with Attuma following quietly.

A/N: Alrighty! I’ll drop the rest when Day 1 of Attoye-Week gets here. Check out @attoye-week​ for the deets on when that is and all the other info if you wish to participate or read what other people have created thus far!

I hope to see you then and stay tuned for other snippets! <3

[clearlydiamondz]

Loyalty to Royalty

Erik!Stevens x OC

Part Three

- - - - - - - - - -  

Princess Imani was the black sheep of her family, never really fitting the female royal type. When an arranged marriage between Prince   N'Jadaka and her is set up, she tries her hardest to get away... but she just can’t.

Warnings:

Translations:  XHOSA} omncinci - young one; umntwana wam - my child

- - - - - - - - - -

She plopped her duffle bags on the king-size bed that was located in the quest suite of the palace. She wasn’t sure if she would be able to enjoy her time here considering the circumstances that she was in but she was determined to make the best of it. Maybe, getting to know N’Jadaka wouldn’t be so bad. She was obsessed with America’s culture and who wouldn’t be a perfect person to learn from but him. 

She let her hair down, taking off her denim jacket when she heard a knock on the door. “Come in!” the door opened and there stood Queen Ramonda. 

“Hi Queen Mother.” she bowed her head at her as Ramonda kissed her teeth at her. 

“Nonsense. When you are in this palace you are a child of mine. No queen, please.” she said taking a seat at the desk. 

“Of course, mother.” she corrected herself with a smile. 

“I was about to head off the bed after my glass of wine but something told me to come to check on you. Is everything okay across the borders?” she asked her. Imai sighed, sitting down on the bed across from her. 

“Honestly...  no,” she confessed with a sigh. “Everything is so different ever since my mother passed. My father is not handling his grief in a good way. For him to move on from a woman like my mother so fast I-” she cuts herself off trying not to cry. She looked to the side as Ramonda placed her hand on her knee. “He has lost himself. My father and I used to be so close. Now, we’re like water and oil. Always budding heads. I can’t even stand being in a room with him for more than 20 minutes. I just- I just wish we could go back to things before-” she stopped herself as she let out a few tears. 

“Oh, omncinci, the unfair thing about life is the unexpected changes that it brings. The passing of your mother took its toll not only on you but it did your father,” she told her as she looked up at the ceiling. 

‘I know and I try to be understanding about that. But I feel like he doesn’t understand that I lost my mother also. And with me becoming queen, and this marriage and everything else I-” she paused before looking at him. “I can’t help but to think that I don’t have anyone to talk to about this.” she said. Ramonda wiped the tears away from her face before saying, 

“Listen, umntwana wam, you always have a place here. Especially now. I know I am not your mother but I’ll be the next best thing to it.” she told her. Imani smiled before grabbing Ramonda’s hand. “Besides, that lady that tries to call herself a queen is a headache. What is the deal with her?” Ramonda said as Imani rolled her eyes. 

“Please don’t even get me started on that, mother. She and that mut get on my nerves. She needs to put it on a leash.” she said standing up as Ramonda laughed. 

“You should have heard her trying to convince me that her daughter would be the best fit. I wouldn’t trust her to run a marathon, never mind run a country.” Ramonda stated standing, making Imani chuckle. 

“Thank you, you have no idea how much I needed to talk about this. I have so much on my plate you have no idea.” 

“Yeah.. it can be like that. Especially because you are the Silver Leopard.” Ramonda smirked at her. Her heart dropped as soon as the name left her lips. 

“I-I-”

“Don’t explain yourself. Your secrets are safe with me. The council doesn’t know.” she reassured her. 

“I am so sorry for not telling you queen mother. I am-”

“I knew it when you woke up from the coma,” she said with a smile. “There was something that I noticed in you. Only something I see in N’Jadaka. T’Challa. The love of my life...” she trailed off. “The work you have done makes you worthy of that herb. And even more worthy of being a queen. That is why I will always be rooting for you.” she winked at her. She went to the door opened it and stepped out. 

“You are a peace here. Get your rest.” And with that, she shut the door. 

Erik sat on the plain fields, not being able to sleep. It was nights like these where he was grateful that he was at home.. his true home. The night sky was breathtaking, just like his father always told him. 

“Trouble sleeping?” he turned around and saw Imani standing there with a blanket wrapped around herself. Her locs were free and flowing as she sat down beside him, him watching her every move. “Yeah me neither. Plus I couldn’t miss out on seeing this beautiful sight,” she mentioned towards the stars that shinned through the Wakandian sky. She sat down next to him as he looked at her every move as she re-wrapped the blanket around herself. It was a silence before she spoke up, 

“My father. He was not always like that, ya know?” she said looking to him. “My mothers death caused some... issues between us. My mother did not want me to be in an arranged marriage. She felt it was fair that I met the love of my life like they did, and that’s everything I was raised on, and now everything is changing. Quickly. I don’t like that.” she told him looking deep in his eyes. He stared back at her before nodded. 

“Yeah.. I get that.”

“So if I came off at first a little hostile, or uptight. I apologize.” she said. It took a lot in her to apologize. She hated apologizing but she knew how she acted was wrong. 

“Like I said, I understand your feelings. But when we have this dynamic where you don’t like me because of this, it messes up what we could do for our respected countries.” he said to her as she nodded looking out.  

“I feel like both of us should come up with some kind of... agreement yeah? We have to make this look as real as possible.” she told him. “I know the dating scene is a bit different here then back home, so we need to be seen a few times courting before we announce our marriage.” she told him as he nodded. “Be prepared for interviews and events. I know that the press in my country will be all over this, especially because you are American so we need to have control of what put into the media..” she thought out loud. 

“Is it really that serious?” he chuckled as she scoffed at him. 

“More than a blood clot to the lung. You do not understand how the elders and our council take these things. You are going to be a ruler, N’Jadaka. There is no room for any misinformation getting out there.” she warned him. 

“Maybe it’s because I’m new to this.. royal shit-” he said moving his hands in a circle for exaggeration. “But, should we not just be normal..” that made her laugh. 

“This is an arranged marriage. Nothing about this is normal.” That made him laugh. She looked at him, seeing him actually laugh and the bright smile on his face. Dimples, perfect white teeth, strong muscular build, and those lips-

She shook her head slightly before placing her hand out for him to shake. “Deal Jadaka?”

“Deal.”

The next day, she was with Okoye training in the fields with the rest of the Dora Milije. She wasn’t expecting to have such a strong routine but honestly she shouldn’t have expected less... it was the Dora Milije. 

After their training, Okoye met with Imani as they walked back to the quarters. “So.. how are you liking Prince N’Jadaka?” she asked Imani as they entered the elevator. 

“He’s... growing on me.” she said slowly. “You know I’ve always had an obsession with Black American’s culture, he represents it very well.” she said in a matter of fact tone. 

“Yeah.. we’re still getting used to him being around her. Especially T’Challa but he’s surprisingly taking it on very well.” she said as they exited off and into her office. “I actually wanted to talk to you... about the herb.” she said sitting down at her desk and Imani sitting across from her. 

“Oh yes... it’s doing it’s wonders.” she said with a chuckle. 

“That’s great Princess. But I’m more along talking about a certain Leopard.” she said raising an eyebrow. 

“Ohhh.. that part.” she winced as Okoye sighed. 

“Look, I appreciate you taking hand on some of these issues. God knows T’Challa appreciates it. But if your not careful you heighten the chances of the council finding out it’s not just two Princes that has the herb running through their veins.” she warned her, Imani nodded.

“Understood General.” she said standing up. She looked at her Kimoyo beeds before saying, 

“We have the debrief in about an hour before we leave. I’m going to change.” she said picking up her things. She had a beautiful all black dress that perfectly hugged her body. Her locs were crepped, with gold clips complimenting her golden skin. She walked into the room to see everyone there as she tilted her head to the side. 

“I hope I’m not late.” she said putting her clutch down on the table. Erik turned to reassure her but he caught wind of what she had on. He wore all black suit with the first few buttons undid. He had on a gold chain with a gold grill on his bottom row, his hair was freshly braided thanks to Queen Ramonda. 

“You weren’t late. We were just early.” Nakia responded handing her an ear piece for coms. She nodded then looked at Erik. 

“You look.. good.” he said, not sure how he should compliment her as she smiled at him. 

“Thank you, you don’t look so bad yourself.” she said, noticing that his cuffs were unbotton. She walked over to him grabbing his wrist and fixing them. The rest of the group looked amongst each other and smirked. If no one had known their circumstances, they looked like the perfect couple. 

“Ooh look at Mani.. fixing her man up.” Shuri smirked as she rolled her eyes. 

“I only care to fix it because I don’t wanna be seen in public with an unkept man.” she said letting his wrist go turning them as T’Challa snickered. Erik, surprisingly not offended, laughed at the statement. 

“Oh trust me baby girl, ain’t nothing on me unkept.” he winked at her. She rolled her eyes once more, but the smile and blush that played on her face said other wise. 

“This is yours.” Shrui gave Imani a ring as she looked at her confused. “This holds your suit with some very advance nano-tech. All you do is have to twist it, and watch the magic happen.” she looked in awe at the vibranium ring. 

The team discussed their plan of action to retrieve the piece of vibranium. After the meeting and waiting for the cars to arrive, Imani pulled Erik to the side. 

“Okay, as you know we will be killing two birds with one spear tonight.  This is also our first outing as an official couple. So, we need to make this look real as possible.” she said looking at him as he nodded. 

“PDA is a must but not too much PDA. We want to look natural and not force, we want the communizers to look at us and think that we are the perfect couple for queen and king, but not uncomfortable. To the point where we think we are sex crazed young adults.” she said. The PDA comment caught him of guard. 

“PDA as in...”

“Public Displays of Affection? Do you not-”

“I know what it means. But you want me to touch you.” he asked her as she scratched her forehead. This was gonna be harder than she thought.

“Well obviously, is that not what couples do?” she asked as he rolled  her eyes. “Look, we have to make it look natural. So hold my hand once in a while, I’ll play with your ear, I’ll whisper in your ear and you look at me like you have all the love in the world for me.” she said. 

“How about kissing?” he asked. 

“Erik if you wanted to kiss me that’s all you had to say.” she joked with him as he playfully rolled his eyes. “I won’t make you do anything your uncomfortable with. Kisses on the cheek, foreheads, hands. Cute affection like that. Though eventually.. more intimate kisses will be expected but not too soon. Like I said, we need to be presented as if we are in love enough to be capable of building a family and a country. So no matter how much you don’t like me, give me your best. Got it?” 

“Bet that.” she looked at him confused.

“Bet? What bets are we making?” she asked tilting her head to the side. He laughed throwing his head back, the same dimple smile. Bright teeth. And big  juicy-

“No I’m not making a bet. It’s like.. a confirmation. Like ok, or I got you.” he said as she nodded. 

“Must be an American thing. I have so much to learn.” she said digging into her clutch. She pulled out a pin that she stole from her father. 

“You.. don’t loose this.” she showed him the beautiful gold African violet that was embedded in bits of blue sapphires. She clipped it on his jacket as he looked down at it, in awe. “My mother gave this to my father the night they were married. The violet represents love, purity, and family.” she said looking at his chess then straightening it. 

“In 1995, it was published on how every time my father was seen in public, he always had this clipped on somewhere. He never left the house without it. My mother did an interview and she shared the sentimental values it held for the two of them. It represented their love, and more importantly...” she looked at him in the eyes. “Me.” he nodded but she stepped away. 

“Even after her death he wore it but when Oshania came along, she forbidden my father from wearing it ever again, so he gave it to me. Now, I’m giving it to you. Media will see it, catch on, and you they’ll recognize how serious you are with me.” she told him.

“I gotchu.”

“You better.”

The car came to a stop as everyone looked at each other. “Everyone is good?” T’Challa asked as everyone nodded. The door opened as everyone spilled out, Erik and Imani being the last one. Erik stepped out turning around to get her hand as she smiled at him. The lights from the cameras almost blinding her. He rested his hand on her backside as they walked down the carpet as everyone took pictures of the new Royal couple. 

“Princess Imani, look over here!” the news reporters exclaimed as she smiled at the cameras.

“Prince N’Jadaka, are you and Princess Imani going to be the next queen and king?”

“When will we be expecting the next generation?”

She leaned up into his ear, making it look as affectionate as possible before saying, 

“Don’t show on your face that you are weirded out by the questions. Don’t think to much of it Prince Jadaka.” the way his name rolled of her tongue in a whisper had him thinking of some un-Godly things. He smirked down at her before placing a kiss on her forehead. 

“No worries. Like I told you, I got you.” he told her as they continued to take pictures and videos of the new ‘couple’. She knew that their would be a few aunties who would read his lips in the videos that would be posted, making up some cute scenarios of what he could possibly be talking about.  

They sat front row at the auction with her legs crossed, and his hand on her lap as they talked about small things. “You know, you are really good at this.” he whispered to her as she looked at him confused. 

“Good at what? Being a royal?” she chuckled as he nodded. “I have no choice.” she said looking at the other piece of artifact that they were showing. 

“Yeah, you gotta give me some tips for that. I’ll make myself look like a fool.” he said as she chuckled.

“Oh that’s a given sweet pea.” she said to him. “How about this. I teach you what it takes to be royal, and you teach me everything about your culture.” she said as he nodded in agreement. 

“Bet?” she took her hand out for him to shake. But he grabbed it and kissed the back of her hand making her giggle. 

“Bet.” 

- - - - - - - - - -

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Summertime Magic XIII

A/N: WHAAAAT?!?!?! Another chapter of your FAV fanfic with Mr. N'Jadaka Udaku.

To Catch Up, Press Here. 

Warning: Nothing really but there is a discussion about ... uhn uhn no spoilers sorry

Word Count: 4182

Song Recommendation: All Mine - Brent Faiyaz

“So what you wanna talk about? If this is about M’Baku, I apologize.  He's wild as fuck I swear. Do you mind if I grab an apple?” She washed one off and handed it to him with a smile. He nodded as he bit into at how delicious it was heard:

“Ndiyazi ukuba ungubani kanye kanye ... iNkosana N'Jadaka (I know who you really are... Prince N'Jadaka),” Leslie said, causing him to cough from the shock and looked up; noticing her brow raise, folded arms and slight grin, hips leaning against the counter.

~

N’Jadaka looked up at Leslie and said “I can explain everything, Leslie. Wait, does she-“.

“Nope. She doesn't know anything. Y’know I was a little skeptical when we first met then I started to see you more and when Y/N told me about your trips to Wakanda, I just thought ‘hmmm, just another person from Wakanda. But then low and behold the freaking king and lord of Wakanda are in your house. You don’t know how to hide it, don’t you?”, Leslie asked before she took a sip of red wine. The prince looked down at his hands and sighed. “Look, I’m sorry but you have to keep this between us. She can't know right now”

“Why? So, my best friend doesn’t know she is gonna be one of your wives?”

“One of my wives? Leslie, where the hell did you hear that from?” Leslie poured another glass and said, “my grandma told me when she was back home, the kings and princes had multiple wives. Look, I ain’t tryna talk shit about our own culture but Y/N is too good to be one of your wives. I ain’t with that shit and neither would she.” N’Jadaka laughed and said “with all due respect, she must have not been there for decades because we stopped that shit when my unc became king. Queen Mother wasn't with that shit at all either so I get you. I care about Baby Girl too damn"

Leslie leaned forward on her hand as she asked "then why can't she know? I mean you love her and what not so why keep her in the dark?" N'Jadaka took a deep breath and started to explain why. "Well, I feel like if she finds out she may leave me, use me, or just whatever the fuck she wants. I had to basically stop my friends from mentioning people around me. I have to keep a very low profile at all times or someone will run and ask for my autograph like I'm Beyonce or something."

"With all due respect my prince, you will never be Beyonce. And do you really think sissy is like that", she asked in a monotone voice, left brow rose and arms extra folded. N'Jadaka sat up and looked her in the face before saying “no. To be honest, I just wanna protect my baby. She really does mean a lot to me but I just know a lot of folks will come after her. I promise I will tell her.”

"When", said Leslie when she rolled her eyes, not believing him. N'Jadaka kept her eyes on her as he dug in his pocket and slid a velvet box towards her. “N’Jadaka…is that what I think it is?” Leslie looked to him before grabbing the box and once she opened it, all she can say was:

"Wow." 

"Yeah, been holding on since we made it official."

"N'Jadaka, this is beautiful. But wait, why buy a ring but not tell her about you being royality?"

"It may seem foolish but it was M'Baku's idea. He said it would be more suspenseful, dramatic but mostly I did it because I want to take her on a trip to Wakanda in a few months and tell her." Leslie couldn’t stop looking at the ring; a 2 1/4 ct tw Emerald-cut 14K White Gold but the band looked like it was a polished vibranium finish. Leslie felt teary eyed just looking at it, just imagining how her best friend would react and how beautiful of a bride she would be. “Wow, this is really nice and beautiful and sweet. I’m sorry that I’m so dramatic. I am just so happy for y’all.” He walked over to her and hugged her tight as he chuckled. “Well, I’m happy you love it. I can’t wait to see my baby’s reaction.” 

They heard footsteps and had to be inconspicuous; N’Jadaka let go of Leslie and started caressing the fridge while Leslie wiped her face clean of tears and sipped her wine clean, they saw the ring and its box; he grabbed and hid it in his pocket. Y/N waltzed in with her nephew on her like a koala. “Hey, Monte. They in here and for some reason, babe is making love to y’all new fridge.”

“If he gets my fridge pregnant, he will pay child support”, Monte said as he walked behind her. Soon, everyone made their way to the backyard where it was a whole barbeque feast along with pot roast, baked mac and cheese and multiple side dishes. “So, JD. How is the OutReach center going, man? Sis been tellin’ me about some of programs already?”

“Oh yeah. You know we have the whole nine yards but I think the kids are going to be more into the science and art programs though. We also got the sports coming in too so the kids are gonna love it.” Monte nodded and asked “So JD, when are you and sis gonna make me an uncle?” Y/N coughed on her white wine and fanned herself to breathe again; Izaiah patted her back to make sure she was okay. Leslie told Monte “baby, don’t tryna sound like pops please. They will have kids one day.”

“Leslie baby, I know. I’m just talking trash, that's all.” Leslie cut into her pot roast as she glared at him and said “well, ya better stop or your butt is gonna be talking to that couch.” Monte looked at her and glared at her back but went back to his food then asked “so, baby sis, when y’all getting married”; this made Leslie choke like Y/N and she quickly drank her water while everyone watched. N’Jadaka sat there with wide eyes eating his food then relaxed them once she felt Y/N’s hand on his thigh. She looked to her good friend and said “when the time comes, Monte. I don’t want to rush into anything, you know what I mean but even if he never asks me to be his wife; it doesn't matter to me. I will always love him.” N’Jadaka looked at her and smirked as she winked and went back to his food. 

Once they finished dessert, Monte, N’Jadaka and Izaiah were playing with a huge yoga ball in the backyard. Leslie grabbed her vape, added a cream pineapple flavor and took a small puff, making sure to blow the smoke out where Y/N wasn’t sitting. “I can’t believe Monte asked that”, Y/N said before pouring her fourth glass of white wine. Leslie took another hit and asked “which one”?

“About me having a kid with him. He know that is a touchy ass subject so why ask?” Leslie took a deep breath sipping her red wine and said “I’m sorry, Y/N/N. I feel bad now.” Y/N looked to her then looked at the three boys and watched as N’Jadaka played with her godson. He looked so happy as he played with the small child; it warmed her heart so much but then she felt a tear drop and her heart shattered. She excused herself and went straight to the bathroom. Once she did, she saw her mascara running down her cheeks. “Great, there goes my makeup.” She grabbed one of Leslie’s makeup wipes and tapped her running mascara marks away. She then dug into her purse to grab her setting powder, her travel powder brush and started to cover what was missing from her makeup. Y/N closed her eyes, took a deep breath and told herself “I am beautiful. I am powerful. I am strong. I am loved and I matter.” She opened her eyes to see Monte standing behind her with a concerned face that made her heart fall to her kneecaps. “What the fuck, Monte?! When the Hell did you get in here?!”

“Uh, when you started chanting like Angela Bassett praying like Tina Turner”; she rolled her eyes and he looked at her reflection. “Bae told me where you were and also cussed me the fuck out so yeah.” She looked at him as she reapplied her eyeliner then her mascara. Monte bent down to place his head on her shoulder, pouting as he looked in the mirror. “Sissy, you ain’t mad at me are you?”

“I’m chillin’, Monte.”

“You sit on a throne of lies, madam. I’ve known you since middle school and I know how you are, missy. You get that look in ya like you wanna shank someone in the knee cap then ya nostrils start flaring up.” Y/N looked up to him which made him point at her and stand up straight. “See, there it is”; she turned to him which made him yelp and slam his back into the door. She poked into his chest as she said the following words:

“Why the hell would you mention children knowing what I've been through?” Monte relaxed his shoulders a tad and took a deep breath; he hung his head in defeat and replied: “I am sorry, sis. I feel really bad. I meant no harm by it.” Y/N looked at him with folded arms before he asked, “he doesn’t know, does he”; she stood in silence which he took as an answer. “You gonna have to tell him one day right, sis? You can’t hide it from him forever.” Y/N stood there, feeling as if she was disappointed in herself. She loves N’Jadaka dearly but what if her secret would make him leave for good. 

Once it was time to go, Y/N placed her god baby in his bed and tucked him while JD watched. He grinned thinking of how great of a mom she would be. He thought about what he was asked at dinner and just couldn’t stop imagining him and Y/N as parents. He felt like she he was a chunky baby, their child would also be a chunky one as well. He didn't care if they had a boy or girl first; the only thing that mattered was the health and well being of the child or, as he would like in the future, children. When he was growing up in Oakland, California, he only really had his father up until he was eight sadly. Once his father passed away and his family took him to Wakanda, Mother Ramonda and Father T’Chaka were his parental figures. At fourteen years old, his family decided to explain his mother’s death; she passed away two days after giving birth to him. This became a fear for him especially if he and Y/N decide to make their own family.

The ride home was honestly so quiet which wasn’t their typical quiet, there was some tension that you can cut with a knife.When they got to N’Jadaka’s home, she hopped in the shower as he was checking his phone and getting undressed. Y/N stood looking in the mirror after she hopped out, she had to come clean about her secret. To her, communication was key and she knew that if she kept this hidden then it would keep eating at her. In bed, her in a huge shirt and him in just sweat pants, they just lied there looking at the ceiling; and that’s how they dosed off.

Y/N woke up to the smell of breakfast so she stood, stretched her limbs and headed to do her morning routine before leaving the bathroom. N’Jadaka stood at the counter as she walked out, listening to Brent Faiyaz and setting the waiting area. He poured some OJ in tall curved glasses and followed half the cup with champagne. On their plates were fluffy omlettes with spinach, peppers and cheese, wheat toast, turkey sausage links, bacon and a side of hashbrowns. She sat at the counter and took a small sigh before saying “good morning” with a small smile and buttering her toast. N’Jadaka can tell something was troubling her and said “y’know? My unc always said ‘you can always feel if something is troubling someone you care for.’ You have something on your mind. I can feel it”. 

“I just been thinking about what Monte said at dinner”, she said after showing and finishing a slice of toast. N’Jadaka looked up at her while he sipped his mimosa. Once he placed his cup back down and moved his food next to her as he sat. N’Jadaka sat ext to her and leaned into her saying “baby, we already talked about this. We don’t have to get married anytime soon, love. We-”.

“I can’t have kids, N’Jadaka”, she said as she poked at her food. N’Jadaka was taken back honestly mentally. He had no idea what to say in the situation. He couldn’t imagine what was going on through her mind. But all he can do was stand as ahe looked down at her plate and hugged her from behind. He rested his chin on her head and as the hug went on, he heard little sniffs and felt her rub his arm slowly; the sound of her crying broke his heart. He kissed her head to comfort her and said “it’s okay, Y/N.” 

“It’s not. I just-” ; she stopped and continued. “What if you wanted kids one of these days and I can’t give them to you. I just- I just don’t want you to regret being with me...” He looked over her head, took a deep, holding her tighter before he letting go and went to sit back down. “Y/N, I will never regret being with you. I love you way too much to say that is a deal breaker. We don’t have to have kids right now and when the time comes, we can just try and do our research. And even if we still have a baby, I can’t see myself with anyone but you.”

“Really”, she said as she look up at him while tearing up a bit. N’Jadaka wiped her tears with his thumbs as he told her “of course, beautiful. I would never call it quits because of that. We will make it work. Aight?” She nodded and he leaned into her lips and kissed them softly. “Now, eat ya food, shower, get dolled up, alright? You been working a lot, you may got a little burn out and stress going on so I’m take you to get ya nails and feet done. Maybe, a deep ass massage, a little shopping trip for you and not for your shop. Okay?”

Y/N sat there in her feelings but they weren’t bad feelings. She felt love, she felt safe and never felt this way with any man before and she was okay with that. After they ate and got ready, they headed out and spent the day together. He would steal some looks of her. Watching her with pineapple hair, black shades, tye dye body con dress with red slides to match, she was beautiful not even trying. As they walked the street of Rodeo, he would pull her and wrap his arms around showing her a warm embrace. He couldn’t imagine his life without her. Even just watching her get nails and feet done, he still loved being around her and in her presence. As she talked and got pampered, he watched as she smiled and everytime she did, there was light that just shined and made everyone smile from ear to ear; he couldn’t wait to make her Mrs. Udaku and treat her like royalty the rest of their lives.

The following week, both of their schedules were hectic as heck. From the Outreach Center to the grand opening of her salon, they have been overly busy with everything. When ever they were together, they were always working but they always made sure that made time for one another. On the next off day for N’Jadaka, he sat at his place bored and laying in bed. All of a sudden, he heard a knock on the door and got up to answer; it was Jerald and Sheila. The couple wore a matching Nike sweatsuit and had bags in their hands. “Hey, man. Where baby girl at”, Sheila asked. He told her “working on the shop, S. She’ll be home in a few hours.” 

Jerald places the bags on his counter and said “my moms made you grip of food, bruh. Cornbread, greens, pot roast, all that.” N’Jadaka rubbed his hands together feeling his inner fat boy jumping for joy. “Awe shiet. Ma Dukes threw down, huh?”

“You know she did. How ya fam doing by the way? I know the finna all be down here soon for the grandopening in like a month, huh?”

“Yeah, but between me and you, they just wanna meet Y/N. M’Baku and T already did and B’s big ass try to talk to Leslie.” Jerald and Sheila now sat on the couch as Jerald said “Leslie got a whole ass child and man though right.” While she rubbed Jerald’s back, she told the guys “please that aint stopping nothing for M’Baku. Remember her tried to get at me when I was a few months pregnant?” N’Jadaka chuckled and said “oh yeah and he was trying to challenge him on the mountain. Nah, that was funny as fuck.” 

“Man, I still got PTSD from being on that damn mountain being butt ass naked.” N’Jadaka passed them some drinks like water and apples juice before sitting. “So, JD, did you do it yet”, Jerald asked and N’Jadaka replied “nah, not yet man. I want it to be special though and y’all got be apart of it.” 

“I’m sorry but what are y’all talking about?”

“N’Jadaka is proposing to Y/N”. N’Jadaka said “NIGGUH! Now, you know S can’t keep a damn secret.” She stood and said “am not. At least I aint tell the baby you a whole ass Prince of Wakanda. Did I, hmmm?” Jerald looked at N’Jadaka and said “bae, you kinda told the last girl he hooked up with though.” She looked at him and seemed as if a ray of heat hit the back of his head because his eye twitched once before he said “she looking at me is she?” He avoided her glance as his friend chuckled before saying “Sheila, please don’t tell my girl anything. But my plan is to tell her that I got a surprise vacation planned, she won’t need anything just her and her phone, right? Ima get Dora Milaje to dress up and up on the aircraft then on the plane I will tell her we in Wakanda and all that but then once, we getting greeted by all the tribes. Ima make her feel like royalty the whole night you know after I tell her. Then Auntie talking about a welcoming feast and party but after that, Ima take her to the garden then BOOM candles every where, flowers falling, the purple night sky and my hands in hers as I get on one knee and then this.” He even got on his right knee as he showed the ring. Jerald stood and looked at the ring. “This shiet is sick as fuck, bruh.”

“Is that a vibranium band, JD?” The prince looked at the ring as he stood and said “yeah, it is. Because just like vibranium, our love can withstand anything and last for generations to come.” He heard sniffles as he looked up and saw not only Sheila crying but also Jerald. “That’s so beautiful, nigga. Got my crying and shiet.” Sheila looked to him and pushed him out the way to get to JD. “I promise I won’t saying anything. I am so happy for y’all, baby brother. EEEEK, I can’t wait.”

“Hey, y’all. Can’t wait for Sheila?” They shock to see Y/N standing there with black plastic bags of food. She wore some distressed jeans, a white tee and matching Converse; her hair was in a low bun. Sheila looked at the box in N’Jadaka’s hand and stood in front so he can hide the ring in his pocket and said “the grand opening of the salon, sis. Y’know what? That reminds me, girl. We actually got to get our fits ready. The event is in two days, right?” She pulled Jerald up and pushed him to door as she got her answer and walking; they said their byes with some hugs and left. Y/N turned to her man and said, with a confused expression as she walked to him, placed the bags on the coffee, “was J crying?”

“Yeah, we watching a sad ass movie, Sheila made us watched.” She giggled and wrapped his arms around his neck to kiss his lips once; he growled in pleasure and wrapped his arms around her waist, deeply kissing her. She moaned as her lips and tongue make love to his. She began to hold the back of neck getting deeper into the kiss until she smelt the food. She tried to pull away from the kiss but he didn’t want to stop. 

“Baby, the food is gonna cold.”

“Fuck that food. I wanna eat you instead.”

“Baby, I’m hungry.”

“You can eat later after I eat.”  With that, he picked her up, wrapped her legs around his waist and made their way to the bedroom. He threw her gently on the bed and started crawling up her body. “You gonna feed me, baby girl, or do I gotta unwrap my food myself.” She looked up at him while on her elbows before unzipping and slipped out her jeans. He began kissing her inner thighs before slipping her panties to the side. Slipping his thick digits inside her made her grip them instant as he did a curling motion as he sucked her clit. She moaned at the feeling and felt all her stress from the work week. She looked down at him to see his gentle orbs looked right at her. 

He loved making eye contact whether it was missionary.

“I love you so much”.

From the side.

“Damn, this pussy good as fuck, baby girl.”

And especially from the back. God, bless that mirror.

“Look at you taking all this dick. Mmmm fuck. Don’t you look beautiful taking this dick.”

“I look so good taking this dick, daddy.” After they made love, he stood from the bed still nude and said “aight, baby. You wanna eat?” All the answer he got was when he heard little snores behind him; he just chuckled and laughed.

It was the night of the grand opening and they were ready. N’Jadaka looked in the mirror of the bedroom and knew he looked good in his attire with his coat wide open and gold fangs glistening. Y/N came out in her amazing dress and he was taken aback. He kissed her cheek and they were off. They saw the news trucks, her family, friends, and supporters as they pulled up. Y/N got local black businesses to cater the event, and she had something to say before she opened the doors. 

“Hey, everyone. If you do not know who I am, I’m Y/N Y/L/N . I have been doing hair since very young young and been saving for this moment. This may sound cliche but I honestly am very thankful for y’all support and just being here. It was a very long road to travel down but it was all so worth it. I appreciate you all from friends and family for having my back for years but I also want to thank a man who has showed me so much love in the year and few we have dated and that man is Mr. N’Jadaka Udaku, who without him, I wouldn’t be standing here now.”  She held out her hand to signal him to come and as everyone cheered, clapped and took photos, he stood behind her, hugging her from the back and just being so proud of her but they didn’t know what was happening a few feet behind the crowd. 

There was a couple leaning in a silver Nissan Altima, wearing all black hiding in the night. “So, what you got planned to fuck them over,” said the man who was still upset N’Jadaka has his ex now. He looked towards the woman and said “just know, you inspired this plan… a lot.”  The woman was about to do something to ruin what a good thing the couple had, but she didn’t care and was willing to do anything to let Y/N know she made a huge mistake.

Um....who in the raggedy hell plotting on Y/N and the Prince and HOW do you think Y/N will feel when she finds out N'Jadaka is a whole Prince? Find out in the next chapter. *evil cackle*

@muse-of-mbaku

@im5ftbutmythroat66

@chaneajoyyy

@melanin-samii

@theunsweetenedtruth

@doux-ciel

@unicornluvin8765

@vikkidc

@wakandantings

@thadelightfulone

@mzamethystp

@simbiann

@tropicalsun10

@babydoll756

@notoriouslynay

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@quinsly

@pinkdemolition

@quietstorm-73

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@yafavcocoa

@lostgalaxies

@mbakuwife

@youreadthatright

@babygotl01292003

@acceptyourselfloveyourself

@madamslayyy

@yoyolovesbucky

@theogbadbitch

@wakanda-inspired

@bitchacho25

@toniilaney

@wakandascrystal

@girlsneedlovingfanfics

@raysunshine78

@melodyofmbaku

@hearteyes-for-killmonger

@silenceisplatinum

@thickemadame

@shookmcgookqueen

@heykillmongerluhme

@fonville-designs

@cutewylie​

@allhailqueennel​

@10bsatatime

@nickidub718​

@lildashofmelanin

@allhailqueennel

@amirra88

@hakunalive4eva

@ghostfacekill-monger

@thickemadame

[chimerathewriter]

Blame it on the Palm wine

Okoye x Attuma

pt.2

Guerrero, a táan u kaxtik = Warrior I was looking for you

<........................................................................................................................>

After some weeks away from the Golden City, Okoye got called from M’baku and the council about her treacherous husband W’kabi.

“ Your Highness, you have called me, is W'kabi alright?”.I t had been two months and she had not received any news from her husband, and when she tried to visit him they would not allow her access.

“ Yes we want to tell, we have freed him two months ago, he’s in the United States with his wife and he’s asking for divorce” the leader of the Border Tribe M’Kathu, the room fell into silence, they were all expecting a reaction from her.

“ I’ve heard that many criminals have been given the grace, when?”

“ When what? My child” the leader continued to talk

“ When did he get married to another wife?” she asked

“ Exactly when he got released”

“ Wasn’t I enough as a wife?”

“ Okoye my child" the man tried to say something

“ I’m not you child, please answer my question I have other things to do”

“ Okoye you are the strongest warrior we have, we respect you but you are not anymore a young wife, and the border tribe need a new heir” the head of the tribe said, without making him continue she greeted the king and exited

While leaving the palace she heard her ex comrades calling her name, but the humiliation was too much, the shame was too much to stop. She was the Dora Milaje who let N’Jadaka ascend to the throne and let her husband betray and almost killed King T’Challa, and now the same husband left her because it seems she was too old to bear children. She went to the local street restaurant and bought two bottles of palm wine. She didn’t wait to go home, she opened one bottle and started to drink up all her feelings.

She didn’t care if people were looking at her, she had already lost her title as general, her honor and her husband, the alcohol was already making its effect, her head felt light and mind was cloudy, finally she came back home threw her phone on the couch and dragged herself in the backyard. 

“Bhast I’ve been your most loyal servant. Is this how you repay me?” Okoye whispered opening the second bottle, she started to remove her shoes and undress , she laid on the cold floor and look at the sunset, the sky was turning orange, young maidens were leaving the river after a long day of fetching water.

Mothers were calling their children to come back home and fishermen were collecting  their last fishing net of the day and check their results,and there she was all alone almost finishing two bottle of palm wine.

She sighed, she looked at the crystal clear water for a moment and decided to dive in, at that moment she wanted the river to drag her away and take her towards the sea

The sky was still golden; she no longer heard laughter, only the humming of crickets and the distant trumpeting of elephants, and like water his mind began to flow.

"Now that traitor and I are no longer connected, we have nothing more to talk about. What a coward, he didn't even come and say it to my face. Okoye I can't be with you anymore because I find you too old to give me a child. If I want, I can have any man at the snap of my fingers" she thought, she was swimming back to the porch when suddenly she felt two hands on her hips.

"What..." she stirred, a head emerged and the woman relaxed,

"Guerrero, a táan u kaxtik"  Attuma said, they reached the porch the man turned immediately blue

"Attuma you scared me, what are you doing here?" the woman asked flustered, putting on her pants in a hurry.

"You didn't come to training today," he explained, analyzing her reactions.

"The king and the council have summoned me, I'm sorry I made you waste your time" she said sitting down wetting her feet, the man joined her.

" What is that?" he pointed to the bottle

"It contains palm wine, it's alcohol" she explained, passing him the bottle, the Talokanil looked at the bottle and then at the woman.

"Warrior, you never drink alcohol" he said confusedly, after the battle their two rulers decided that every month Attuma and other warriors would come to Wakanda to train with Wakandian warriors. The ex Dora Milaje had always said that she drank alcohol only in difficult moments.

"Are you okay? guerrero," he asked, involuntarily jerking her thighs apart

"Yes I just wanted to drink" she tried to play down the moment, without taking her gaze away, he took off his mask

“You would never drink alcohol unless you were upset.” He leaned closer, making her heart pound, she assumed it was just the alcohol and its effects.

"My husband, no ex-husband received pardon for betraying the country two months ago, he left the country with his new wife without my knowledge" she said realizing her rival's, hands were resting on her thighs

"Why did he remarry?"

"Apparently I wasn't enough to satisfy him as a wife," she kept talking, avoiding his gaze. The two were silent for a while, it wasn't awkward or uncomfortable

"He let a great woman go," he said as he sipped his drink

"How's the taste?"

"Neither sweet nor bitter, but it's pretty strong, still you shouldn't be upset about a usurper"

"I know this but, I  failed Queen Ramonda, I lost my title of general, and now to top it all off my husband who tried to usurp the throne is leaving me for a woman younger than me only because I probably can't give him a son" 

She said trying to get up, but slipped and ended up in the water.

"I'm a lost case" she whispered to herself, the man looked at her and dived, he took her hips, they were about to go back up but she stopped

"Wait I want to stay like this a little longer" she said as she gripped his arms, their foreheads touching.

"It's his loss, not yours. I'd be honored to be your husband," he whispered into her ear, she sneezed.

"If we continue like this you'll catch a cold" she reached the door of her house

"I don't think I'll be coming to practice tomorrow," she said

"All right" and he dived, leaving the warrior alone.

She went home, changed and lay down in bed, trying to forget what had just happened. She couldn't, she couldn't forget how close they were, and she wished his hands had held her tighter. That night she had promised herself that she would never drink palm wine again.

[skylarstark4826]

She hugs her knees closer to her chest, measuring her breaths evenly against the endless push of the waves. The fresh breeze ruffles her curls, her position loosening as she closes her eyes and imagines her mother with her on the beach.

“Ndiyak’thanda, vha?” She hears Ramonda say, clear as the day in Cap-Haïtien.

[I love you. Do you hear me?]

She closes her eyes, conjuring up Ramonda’s hand on the side of her face, pulling her in. Shuri sets her head on her mother’s shoulder, inhaling the scent of cocoa butter and agapanthus.

Except agapanthus doesn’t grow this far up north of the world and the only scent that fills her nose is sea salt.

She wills her mind to stay in the moment. Wills herself to hear the sound of Ramonda’s heartbeat, loud and melodic in her ears. But the sound of her aching heart, beating loudly against her chest, is louder. And painful.

Shuri violently pulls herself out of the reverie. She burned her ceremonial garb earlier in the day and while she initially scoffed at the idea of the ancestral plane; the longer the grief of losing her mother nestles itself into her bones, the more grateful she becomes of its existence.

N’Jadaka might have been a necessary albeit disappointing reveal but he was proof; proof that when her time comes, she will be reunited with her family.

With thoughts of her mother swirling in her mind, the bracelet on her wrist catches her eye. Shuri lifts her arm, holding her wrist against the glint of the moonlight. She’s studied the piece of jewellery, night after night, even after her successful revival of the heart shaped herb. Shuri tells herself that she has not taken it off because she wants to keep it as a reminder of her triumph. But her heart knows. It knows of her inexplicable connection to one Feathered Serpent King. A connection so deep, the Gods will it through the sheer power of the cosmos.

Shuri does not believe in the stuff of Gods. Her beliefs are rooted in science but even science cannot answer why a bested God-King would continuously shower her with gifts.

The shell besides her screams at her, demanding attention, seeking to engulf her loneliness and grief whole into its hallow insides. She sighs, picks it up and lightly blows into it before she can change her mind. She’s gentle (something no one would ever describe her as) when she purses her lips to the shell, whispering into its miniature vastness, willing him to hear her even when she is inhumanly below 20 decibels.

Shuri does not really believe the shell to be a working conduit of communication. But she has also never seen a God-King with wings on his ankles and bronze for skin before.

Hours pass with no sign of the God-King. The grains of the beach sand prickle her toes and the breeze now bites into her skin with its coldness. She stands up and brushes off the sand granules. Her white linen shorts are wrinkled from sitting in one position for so long. She would usually not care for such a fickle thing but her mother bought her the shorts in a rare instance she was able to pry Shuri out of her lab.

It is now 1am Eastern Standard Time, three hours since she blew into the shell.

Shuri cannot believe it but in a long list of low probability statistics, she has been stood up by a God-King. She has fought soviet era assassins and touched a stone crafted by the universe itself. Despite her best efforts, she cannot help but laugh. Truly laugh. Idlozi wipe out her family and here she is, waiting at the beach like a lovesick American woman in the silly romcoms she would catch Okoye watching.

She laughs until her body feels light. When she is able to fully breathe again, she catches a figure emerging from the ocean. He is in-front of her faster than she can blink in surprise.

“Princess.” He says, eyes shining with what Shuri could simply feel was joy.

“Cha’ah” Shuri replies, relief settling into her body.

In Wakandan tradition, death is not the end.

It is the first time Shuri believes it.

[satashiiwrites]

Snippet Sunday

From my July Rough Trade project since I’ve already let this out in the wild (it’ll eventually get on AO3 late this fall assuming I get it done). Tagging @tkwritesdumbassassins @quietborderline @monsterrae1 @alyxmastershipper @outtoshatter @missanniewhimsy @whimsyswastry

Snippet sunday banner by Radio Chatter.

Title: Scintillation, Chapter 1

Fandom: MCU, the Sentinel

Pairing: Tony Stark/James “Bucky” Barnes, T’Challa/Erik Killmonger, one-sided Steve Rogers/James “Bucky” Barnes, Tony Stark & Ho Yinsen

Summary:

Everything changed for Tony Stark in a cave in Afghanistan.  For years he’s been dealing with the fallout of the shrapnel imbedded in his chest—both physical and mental—in his own ways. He’s got an arc reactor in his chest and demons that stalk him in his mind as he becomes Iron Man and eventually an accepted part of the Avengers during the attack on New York City.

All he has to do is keep giving people what they want.  That’s the lesson learned. 

Die, resurrect, live as much as you can. Wash, rinse, repeat. 

He thought he’d known why he was the way he was… but he and everyone else missed one tiny little detail caused by his repetitive brushes with death. 

Or, a guide coming online as he almost dies yet again at the hand of a friend shatters the controls put upon the Winter Soldier and sends Sentinel James Buchanan Barnes fully online and into a feral rage in the middle of Siberia. 

Steve’s lucky T’Challa’s there to rescue him from his best friend gone feral. 

Tags/warnings: canon typical violence and events (kidnapping, violence, etc), sentinel/guide AU, PTSD, all the usual things that pertain to Erik Killmonger.

Insomnia is an old and dear friend for Tony. Wakanda’s not a bad place to recuperate in if you’re a guest of the king, but Tony’s wandering of the palace halls doesn’t go unnoticed. Dora Milaje stalk him as he wanders, and he pretends to ignore their presence. He suspects the kimoyo beads are like carrying a personal location tracker, but they’re too useful for other reasons, like opening doors for him to leave them behind on his nightstand. 

He goes out into the gardens, his silent guardians following just far enough behind to give him the illusion of privacy. Tony follows the sound of rushing water until he comes to the part of the gardens that overlook the falls. 

Despite the late hour, he’s not the only one wandering the grounds. Erik Killmonger—also known as Erik Stevens or by his Wakandan name of N’Jadaka—is sitting in the grass with his feet hanging in the water. He’s wearing a robe, and his house slippers are discarded in the grass beside him.  

“Guide,” he greets as Tony approaches, nostrils flaring to identify him, but he does not lash out. “You should be in bed.”

“So should you,” Tony returns as he sits next to him. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Erik makes a noise of disagreement in his throat. Nobody has told Tony anything, but he can feel Erik’s turmoil and sense that the sentinel has a bonded guide. Still, it’s not complete—same as Tony’s old bond is fractured and frayed while the new one to James is strong as iron yet gossamer thin as his old bond has prevented it from deepening. Erik’s bond with T’Challa was unexpected and has caused a lot of turmoil that Tony isn’t supposed to be aware of, but Tony can’t help but notice it as a guide now that he knows he is one. T’Challa is better trained, but Tony’s life experience is greater—even if he hadn’t known he was using guide gifts to make inferences or to influence others. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he tells Erik mildly. 

They are both quiet for a minute or two before Erik blows out an exasperated sigh and pulls Tony in close to share his body heat. “You are cold,” he observes as he wraps himself around Tony. A sentinel’s instinct to always take care of a guide—even one that’s not theirs—is hard to ignore. Even though Erik has a self-professed want to destroy all those that have harmed his people, Tony knows that Erik’s incapable of hurting him. All the violence within the sentinel has been leashed by his encounter with T’Challa and their bonding. 

The jaguar sentinel has been tamed by the panther guide. 

In as much as any borderline feral sentinel can be tamed. 

“It’s the middle of the night, and we’re at altitude,” Tony points out reasonably. 

Erik grumbles in disagreement. “You will get sick—sicker,” he corrects before poking at the spaces between Tony’s ribs. “You need to eat more.”

“I’m trying to,” he protests weakly. The time spent with the Wakandan doctors trying to deprogram his PTSD ends daily with Tony vomiting from the rollercoaster of emotions he rides during them. Even with him trying to eat multiple small meals, he’s lost a lot of weight. The arguments over the Accords had meant long hours politicking and negotiating without time to eat regularly. Stark Industries R&D had also needed him to overlook everything and the mentorship program he’d started for kids so that he could pump up Peter’s extracurriculars for when he eventually applied to college…

“You work too hard,” Erik interrupts Tony’s thoughts.

“You’re not the first person to tell me that.”

Erik snorts in exasperation. “You do not listen to anyone, do you?”

“I listen sometimes.”

“But not often.”

Tony shrugs. “You don’t listen either.”

Erik copies him and shrugs as well. “I thought I knew… I had a plan.”

“Plans never survive the first contact with the enemy—isn’t that what they teach you navy boys in school?”

“They do teach that. I had contingencies and alternatives all planned out.”

“And then you met T’Challa,” Tony surmises. “Bet you didn’t plan on that.”

“I did plan on that.”

“But you didn’t plan on him being your guide,” Tony corrects. 

“I should have.”

“Denial ain’t just a river in Egypt,” Tony settles more comfortably into Erik. He’s got a great chest, and he’s warm in the chill of the moonless night. Moreover, he makes Tony feel safe, even if Erik isn’t his sentinel. 

“I could not deny him,” Erik whispers, his gaze focused on the running water, dragging his nose along Tony’s neck to scent him in an automatic self-soothing gesture. “I tried, but I could not deny T’Challa was meant to be mine.”

“Destroyed all those plans,” Tony adds, dragging his wrist along Erik’s jawline before gently pushing him away. 

“You are not making me feel better,” Erik says as he resettles, his fingers carding through Tony’s hair, making him ironically feel like a purring house cat.  

[tchallasbabymama]

How Ramonda Got Her Groove Back: Part One

Hey, y’all! It’s been a while since I last posted a story on here, but I’m trying to get back into the routine after taking a new position at my job. So, without further ado, here’s the first chapter of my Ramonda story. Please leave feedback in the form of comments and reblogs, and let me know if you want to be tagged in anything! Here’s a link to my masterlist so you can read my other stories as well. Enjoy 😘

Word Count: 5,594

Queen Ramonda didn't shed a single salty tear when the news of her husband’s death reached her ears. She had always been known as a fierce and unshakable ruler, and she refused to allow T’Chaka’s departure from this plane to tarnish her reputation. After all, despite the loss, she felt a tiny bit of relief knowing her reign had ended. 

Ramonda never wanted to be queen, but what other choice is there when one falls in love with a king? She had entered T’Chaka’s life at the precise moment when he had finally let go of his departed wife, and she took to him and his young son, T’Challa, immediately. Shortly after, they were married, and a few years later, Ramonda found herself carrying his secondborn. Though Ramonda wouldn’t give up being T’Challa and Shuri’s mother for the world, there were many days when she longed for freedom from the palace. She often stared at the far-off Jabari mountains and wondered what mysteries they held. Whenever T’Chaka would take her with him on diplomatic trips out of the country, Ramonda gladly went with him, just happy to get out of the confines of her home.

However, Ramonda would never forget the first time T’Chaka left the country after they met. At the time, she believed him to be hunting down Klaue for his thievery, but now she knew the truth. Now, she could no longer think of her husband without bile rising in her throat. His actions that day resulted in a decades-long grudge against Wakanda and the Udaku clan by one of their own. One who had been abandoned by his own family, by T’Chaka. The king had killed his brother, N’Jobu, in cold blood and left his young son behind to fend for himself. Never mind that he had a son himself, and never mind that the child he abandoned was family… apparently, none of that mattered.

T’Chaka took the secret of what happened that night to his grave. He had N’Jobu declared Missing in Action and went about his life as if everything was normal. It wasn’t until after T’Chaka’s death that N’Jobu’s son arrived and turned Wakanda on its head. N’Jadaka was the name his parents gave him, but the U.S. military called him “Killmonger.” A horrible name for a man capable of doing horrible things.

When Killmonger challenged T’Challa for the throne, Ramonda felt her gut twist in the way it usually did when something didn’t feel right. She had all the faith in the world in her son, but the hatred in Killmonger’s eyes told her everything he needed to know: the man was dangerous. Though he certainly wanted power, he wasn’t fighting because of greed. He was fighting out of grief and hatred, which made him destructive. Killmonger didn’t just want what T’Challa had; he wanted to make him and all his loved ones feel the same pain he had felt for years.

The unshakable queen shattered into pieces the second that Killmonger lifted T’Challa’s limp body onto his shoulders and tossed him over the falls. She held on tight to her daughter as Nakia ushered them to safety in the Jabari mountains. The very mountains Ramonda had longed to visit one day under different circumstances.

Bast had been looking out for her that day because when they arrived in Lord M’Baku’s throne room, he was not the dreadful man she assumed him to be. He had a sense of humor about him, but more importantly, he was an honorable man.

As it turned out, T’Challa’s body had washed ashore just beyond the Jabari’s borders, and M’Baku had his healers taking care of him as best they could. Ramonda resuscitated him using a heart-shaped herb that the king’s paramour Nakia had snatched before they went on the run. Not even an hour later, T’Challa was already planning his march back down the mountain. He expected Ramonda to leave Wakanda for her protection, but she refused. Instead, T’Challa settled on ensuring his mother’s safety within the walls of the Jabari palace. 

“Mama, I need you to stay here. To stay safe,” he said, throwing off his hooded blanket and allowing the dark fibers of the Black Panther suit to escape from his necklace, covering his body.

Ramonda pursed her lips disapprovingly but held her tongue. She was no longer in the fighting shape of her younger years, so Ramonda decided to heed his word.

“Very well, then,” she conceded with a sigh and placed her hand against his cheek. Her eyes were weighed down with grief and fatigue but still so full of love for her only son. “Send for me the moment you unseat him.”

“I will, mama. I promise.” T’Challa kissed her hands before reaching out for his little sister and his love to join them. Nakia’s hand found its way into his, and their fingers naturally intertwined in the way they had for years.

Shuri squeezed in between her loved ones and held them close. Ever the optimist, she sent words of encouragement into the universe, knowing deep in her heart that her brother would be victorious this time, “This will all be over soon.”

---------

Ramonda stood at the wide open doors of the Jabari palace and waved her children goodbye. She held the Border tribe blanket close to her body as she watched them travel down the mountain until they disappeared out of view around a rocky ledge. Even then, Ramonda stood there, her eyes glued on the sight of her home in the distant valley as she prayed for peace. Peace for her people, peace for her family, and peace for herself. The latter was already in short supply and became downright scarce when she heard a throat clear behind her.

“Queen Mother Ramonda-”

“You hypocrite,” she spat, whipping around on her heels and facing M’Baku. 

Her tone gobsmacked the near-giant.

“Excuse me?”

“My son went to you for help, and you refused him.”

“I have helped enough.” He waved her off with a roll of his eyes. “The Black Panther lives, does he not?”

“Three days ago, you wanted Wakanda for yourself, and now you pretend you do not care about what happens to it. You are just throwing a tantrum because you failed!”

M’Baku glared down at Ramonda, standing almost a foot shorter than his massive frame, her finger pushed into his chest accusingly.

“Show the queen to her quarters,” he hissed through gritted teeth before storming down the hall towards the throne room, barking orders at every guard he passed.

A broad-shouldered man with a hefty build stepped forward from against the far wall, his grass and leather skirts rustling with each step he took. Ramonda recognized him from Challenge Day, but his eyes were softer this time around. The first time she saw him, he wore the hardened facade of a warrior ready for battle, but this time with his brows relaxed and a soft smile on his face, his warmth shone through. 

He wasn’t warm enough to melt the icy daggers coming from Ramonda’s eyes, though.

“Right this way, Queen Mother.” 

He gestured for her to follow him, and she stared blankly at him. Just as his eyebrows creased and he began to speak up, she stepped forward, passing him by as she hastened towards what she now knew to be the residential side of the palace. Her speed took the guard by surprise, but he caught up to her quickly with his long strides. 

Ramonda held her blanket tight around her shoulders and unsuccessfully willed her body to stop shivering as they walked through the winding palace halls. Artisans had carved the impressive structure out of the mountainside long ago, and she distracted herself from the chill by admiring the architecture. Jabari wood featured prominently in the palace’s design, and she wondered if all of Jabariland was so beautiful.

“There will be furs waiting for you to change into,” the guard remarked, breaking her train of thought. “Much warmer than that flimsy sheet.”

Ramonda pressed her lips together and cut her eyes at him.

“How much farther?”

He fought a smirk when he noticed her nose was beginning to run.

“Too cold for you?” he asked teasingly.

“This climate is uninhabitable for humankind,” Ramonda huffed.

The guard chuckled, and the sound grated against Ramonda’s eardrums. Rather than continue their back-and-forth, she chose to conserve her energy and focus on not freezing to death before she could see her children again. She thought of the sun and imagined its warm rays beaming down on her skin. Memories of taking Shuri and T’Challa to play in the river when they were young filled her mind and brought her physical and emotional comfort. 

Ramonda was lost in her thoughts when moments later, she noticed they had begun climbing a winding wooden staircase with massive glass windows along the side so they could view the entirety of Jabariland during their ascent. Her breath hitched in her throat, and her eyes grew wide at the soft blanket of white that covered the entire territory. 

The guard chuckled again, and she tore her eyes away from the wintry wonderland outside, only to see a sly smirk on his face.

“And just what is so amusing?” she asked, making his smirk spread into an almost smile.

“I have never before seen Jabariland through the eyes of an outsider.”

Ramonda’s defensiveness slipped away. She understood what he meant. After all, Wakanda had been an isolationist nation as well, and although she never got to share her homeland with anyone from the outside, she often thought about what it would be like to do so.

“I must admit, you have a beautiful homeland… though the frigid temperature leaves plenty to be desired,” she complimented him backhandedly as she continued up the stairs.

“I prefer it to the suffocating heat that you lowlanders live in,” he retorted, taking a left at the landing and leading her down yet another hallway. Ramonda’s face scrunched up at his words, not liking how derogatory they sounded, but before she could comment, he continued, “Well, here we are.”

The guard reached out his massive hand and turned the knob on the intricately carved wooden door, and Ramonda was shocked again. Being a queen, she was used to luxury. However, she was pleasantly surprised that her definition of quarters fit for a queen matched the Jabari’s. A large canopy bed covered in warm-looking blankets called to Ramonda, but the centerpiece of the suite, a raging fireplace, had her moving on auto-pilot toward the heat.

“A guard will be stationed outside your door if you need anything,” he said, and she turned around to face him, her hands warming by the flames.

“A different guard?” she asked.

“Yes. This was my final duty for today.”

Ramonda nodded.

“Very well then. Enkosi…”

“Kodjo, your highness.”

“Enkosi, Kodjo.”

“You are most welcome.”

He lowered his head in a respectful bow and closed the door behind himself, leaving Ramonda alone in her palace quarters with views of the entire province. She tore herself away from the fireplace and stepped towards the floor-to-ceiling windows surrounding the space. Under different circumstances, the view would have moved her to tears, but she averted her eyes before any could fall.

To her left, she noticed a doorway and decided to explore what was on the other side. As it turned out, it led to a spa-style bathroom and walk-in closet filled with Jabari leathers and furs sure to keep anybody warm in the glacial temperatures. Ramonda ran her fingers through the fluffy gray fibers of a fur shawl before snatching it off the hanger and wrapping it around her shoulders, dropping the Border tribe blanket in one swift movement. She settled into the fur and inhaled deeply to ground herself in its embrace. 

Without warning, Ramonda’s breath stuttered, and as her lungs began to feel full, tears flooded her eyes. She allowed them to fall since she was alone, and silent sobs wracked through her body as she fell to her knees on the closet floor.

The usually calm and collected queen allowed herself to feel the delayed emotional response from her head to her toes until her eyes ran dry, and she had no more emotion left to give. Ramonda slowly peeled herself off the closet floor and dragged herself to the rain shower. She removed her fur wrap, then her clothes, before stepping inside and letting the traumatic experience wash down the drain.

---------

As Kodjo made his way back through the palace, he couldn’t help but look forward to his night ahead. He’d have his loft to himself and already planned to take a long, hot bath to relax. His muscles hadn’t recovered from marching down and back up the mountain on Challenge Day, and he felt like he could collapse at any second. However, as he rounded the corner to the throne room, he surmised that his night wouldn’t go as planned.

M’Baku sat on his throne with his wife Tayesha standing in front of him, her hands on her curvaceous hips that had been spread by his offspring over the years. The chief’s head was in his hands, and the crease in his brow let Kodjo know he was deep in thought.

“My chief?” Kodjo asked, making himself known.

M’Baku looked up, but before he could speak, Tayesha whipped around.

“Kodjo, you should return to your post.”

“My chieftess, I was told someone else would take over.”

“Everyone else will be busy fighting alongside King T’Challa.”

Kodjo blinked in surprise and turned to M’Baku questioningly.

“My chief, you have changed your mind?”

“It seems I have,” M’Baku grumbled, pushing off from the armrests and standing to his full height.

“I would be more useful in battle, no?” Kodjo asked, looking between the two royals.

“We need you here protecting Ramonda in case the usurper tries to come for her,” Tayesha explained softly, her eyes regarding him with their usual warmth. 

Kodjo held his tongue and nodded respectfully at his chieftess despite the disappointment filling his body. Yes, he was exhausted, but the prospect of battle re-energized the warrior. Instead, he bowed his head as M’Baku lumbered past, obviously disgruntled at the decision Tayesha had somehow swayed him into. Kodjo couldn’t blame the chief for falling for his wife’s charms; she was exceptionally beautiful, but her inviting aura and the way she wielded her words could get anyone to do what she wanted. Especially her husband.

Tayesha breezed by Kodjo and caught up to M’Baku as he waited for her in the doorway and wrapped her arm around his bicep before allowing him to lead her to their quarters. The two statuesque leaders disappeared down the cavernous hallway, and Kodjo sighed before dragging his feet towards his post.

Everyone Kodjo passed on the way to the other side of the palace seemed giddy with the prospect of war before the announcement had even been made. He trudged his way to Ramonda’s door and glared at it with contempt before sucking his teeth.

“Lowlanders just had to bring trouble with them,” Kodjo grumbled before turning his back to the door and crossing his arms over his broad chest. He ignored the way his tired legs wanted to wobble under his body weight and stood tall like the soldier he was.

On the other side of that door, Ramonda lay in bed, curled up under a pile of blankets and furs, unable to turn her brain off long enough to take the nap she so desperately needed. Her mind raced with anxiety as she pictured the worst-case scenario of what could happen to her children. She felt helpless so far away from all the action, but they couldn’t all be there at once for safety purposes. 

Even as her eyes gazed out over the wintry wonderland, she felt none of her usual intrigue for the mysterious mountain range. The circumstances made it difficult for her to appreciate finally visiting the lands she had dreamed of since she was a young girl. She had traveled the world with T’Chaka, but this treasure in her own backyard amazed her more than anywhere else she had been.

A loud horn sounded and broke her from her reminiscing with a start. Her heart thumped in her chest along with the large drums that began playing from seemingly every corner of Jabariland, and the usually graceful queen darted up from the bed, nearly stumbling over the sheets on her way to the window. She could see drummers on top of just about every building in the city, and as they played their tunes, the people rushed to the streets.

Ramonda hurried to her door and swung it open with all the force of a woman on a mission. She fully expected to see a stranger but was oddly comforted when she laid her eyes on Kodjo leaning against the wall across from her door.

“What is happening out there?” 

Kodjo heard her question, but his answer dissolved on his tongue. He was too entranced by the way her stark white locs hung wildly about her head, framing her fierce eyes and sharp cheekbones like the snow that fell in his homeland. His distraction didn’t last long, though, because a manicured hand snapped impatiently in his face, bringing his attention back to the situation at hand.

“Where is your replacement?” 

“Busy.”

Ramonda narrowed her eyes at his flippant response but continued her line of questioning.

“The drums. What are they for?”

“They are drums of war,” he responded with longing in his eyes, longing for the sweet taste of victory and for something else he hadn’t had in years.

Ramonda’s gut tightened, and her heart lurched into her throat. She thought that surely, the worst had come of her children, and Killmonger had brought the fight to Jabariland. Fear cemented her lips together and creased her brow, but her silence led Kodjo to believe she was displeased by his answer.

“Our mighty chief has decided to aid your son in battle,” he explained further.

Little did Kodjo know his words had quelled an internal storm raging inside Ramonda. She took a breath to give herself time to gather her words.

“Yes, well… I would like to be kept updated on the situation.”

“All we can do now is wait.”

“Wait?” she snipped.

“Yes… wait.”

Ramonda narrowed her eyes at his casual tone, but he simply stared blankly in return which angered her even more.

“Do you have children, Kodjo?” she asked, her tongue laced with poison as she said his name. He sensed her displeasure and straightened his posture as he realized he had overstepped with the royal.

“Yes, I-”

“And would you be content with simply waiting while they risked their lives in battle?”

His round eyes drooped just a little, but his shoulders remained firm.

“I would not,” his voice softened.

“So, you see my problem?”

“I do,” Kodjo sighed, “but we will not know anything until the drums sound again when the warriors return.”

Ramonda deflated from his sincerity and felt for the kimoyo beads on her wrist. They would be her lifeline.

“Very well then.”

Ramonda closed the door and shuffled back across the room, picking up the blankets she tripped over and plopping down in the center of the enormous bed. She crossed her legs and straightened her spine, rolling her shoulders back and centering herself before pressing her tracker bead. A holographic map of Wakanda filled the air in front of her, and she used her fingers to zoom in on Mt. Bashenga, where she could see T’Challa’s and Shuri’s lifelike miniature avatars splitting up to carry out their parts of the plan. Shuri was heading into her lab with Nakia and the colonizer to hijack the Royal Talon while T’Challa was going to confront Killmonger. 

Ramonda nestled into the covers and attempted to breathe her anxiety away with deep, cleansing inhales. She ended up getting too relaxed, and though she tried her hardest to keep her eyes open, the warmth of the furs lulled her to sleep. 

Falling.

Ramonda felt like she was falling, so she jerked her body awake and found her heart beating out of her chest. She searched the corners of her mind for a memory of her dream, but there was nothing to hold onto—just the feeling of freefalling.

Ramonda wiped the sleep from her eyes and rechecked her beads to see if T’Challa and Shuri were alright. They were both still at Mt. Bashenga, but-

“That cannot be right,” Ramonda squinted her eyes at T’Challa’s location and wondered why he was in the vibranium mine. Her questioning was cut short by a rumbling in her stomach that reminded her she hadn’t eaten since breakfast with M’Baku and Tayesha. 

Humming to herself to calm her anxiety, Ramonda crossed the room to the walk-in closet and quickly found a thick sweater made of the softest fibers she’d ever touched and slid it over her body along with a pair of tailored leather pants that were somehow just the right size and furry boots to keep her feet warm. 

Making a mental note to purchase some clothing from Jabariland in the future, Ramonda took one last look at her children’s locations on her kimoyo beads before reaching for the doorknob. Before her fingertips could graze the brass, she heard a melodic baritone on the other side of the door singing a song she’d never heard before. She stopped in her tracks and silenced her own serenade to listen to Kodjo effortlessly sing like his vocal chords couldn’t be bothered with anything less than perfection.

---------

Kodjo had just noticed the sun beginning to set when the door opened again. He had spent the last hour daydreaming about his next day off and humming to himself to pass the time, dreading the moment when he would have to face Ramonda again after angering her.

That moment came and went when she regarded him with softer eyes than he had anticipated. 

“You have a beautiful voice.”

He blinked the surprise from his face and shrugged off her compliment.

“Eh, it is alright.”

“It is more than alright. You sound like Mustafa Zaire.”

“Who?”

“He is a world-famous Wakandan vocalist,” Ramonda bragged.

“Never heard of him,” Kodjo shrugged again. “A favorite of yours?”

“In fact, he is.”

“Hhm.” Kodjo’s lips curled up in the smallest grin. “My apologies for singing so loudly, Queen Mother-

“Just ‘Ramonda’ will do, Kodjo.” 

“Very well, Ramonda.” 

Her name rolled effortlessly from his plush lips before wrapping around her like another thick Jabari fur, and she felt her skin warm up in ways she hadn’t felt since she met her departed husband.

“Did I bother you?”

“No. I took a short nap, and when I woke up, I realized it had been a while since my last meal.”

Kodjo’s own hunger was beginning to creep up on him, so he perked up at the mention of food.

“The chieftess takes her meals in her quarters with her children when the chief is away at war, so you will be dining alone tonight.”

Ramonda nodded.

“Come. I will escort you to the kitchen.”

“I remember the way.”

“Yes, but it is my job to keep you safe while you are in our care.”

“I am not some fragile old woman, Kodjo.”

“My apologies. I did not mean to imply-”

“That I cannot fend for myself.”

“Not at all. Only that if I were to leave my post, I would face the wrath of chieftess Tayesha.”

Ramonda cracked a sly smirk out of respect for Tayesha.

“She rules with an iron fist, that one?”

“Not as unforgiving as metal… more like Jabari wood.”

“Very well then. You may accompany me to the kitchen.”

Kodjo bowed his head with an accomplished smile plastered on his lips as Ramonda took off down the hallway toward the kitchen. He couldn’t help but notice how haughty her walk was when she wasn’t shivering beneath thin blankets. Her hips swished in the chocolate leather pants that she filled out more than he expected for a woman of her svelte frame, and she smelled of lilies. 

The palace felt eerily like a ghost town to Ramonda. The halls buzzing with life just hours earlier were silent, and not a soul was to be seen. 

“Did everyone go to war?”

“Most, yes. The rest are in their homes or temples praying to Hanuman for our warriors’ safe return.”

Ramonda nodded and wondered if Hanuman would hear her if she added her prayers into the mix. The more gods on their side, the better. 

“The Jabari are a spiritual people, then?”

“Very,” Kodjo responded proudly, his chest puffing out just a little as he spoke.

“It seems we have that in common.”

“Yes, you lowlanders have your panther god.”

Ramonda squinted at his choice of words but kept her protests to herself.

“We do,” she replied. “I am sure that despite our separation for many centuries, there are many more similarities between our people than we realize.”

“Perhaps.”

“We are all Wakandan, after all.”

“Hmph.”

Ramonda cut her eyes Kodjo’s way and took in his grimace.

“You disagree?”

He met her gaze hesitantly, and she could see the regret in his eyes for speaking out of turn.

“Speak freely, Kodjo.”

The guard cleared his throat and took a deep breath.

“It is not that I disagree, per se. I just think that you lowlanders-”

“You keep using that term.”

“It is not meant to be derogatory.”

“It feels as such.”

“I imagine you have much harsher terms for us Jabari.”

“You imagine incorrectly.”

Kodjo sucked his teeth.

“If you say so.”

Ramonda side-eyed him as they walked in step through the empty hallways. The smell of expertly-spiced food let Ramonda know they were closing in on their destination, and shortly after, they rounded a final corner and came face to face with the royal chef Sade in her element. She twirled around the large kitchen as if she were as light as a feather, and she moved with the ease of someone who had an intimate understanding of their environment.

“You have a guest,” Kodjo announced, and Sade turned around at the sound of his voice, beaming with an infectious joy that transferred to Ramonda almost immediately. 

“Queen Mother, a pleasure to have you again!” Sade sang as she placed her ladle down on the side of her stew pot and wiped her hands on her apron. “Come, sit. It is not as fancy as this morning’s breakfast, but I am sure my son explained to you-”

“Your son?”

Sade turned to Kodjo with a hand on her hip, and he shrugged innocently.

“It never came up,” he said, making Sade roll her eyes.

“Your personal bodyguard is my son, so if he is not doing a good job, let me know, and I will straighten him right out for you!” Sade said, pinching Kodjo’s muscular arm.

“Mama,” he groaned, and his discomfort made Ramonda chuckle.

“I will do just that, Sade.”

“Come, sit.” The chef ushered Ramonda to the empty table, where she couldn’t help but admire the craftsmanship of the wooden furniture. The table top was made from a huge tree that had been sliced so that all its beautiful rings were visible, and Ramonda ran her fingers over the rings closest to her as she sat down. “I imagine you must be starving.”

“I did not notice how much time had passed since my last meal,” Ramonda nodded.

“One bowl of my famous vegetable curry coming right up.”

Sade shuffled over to the stove and stirred the fragrant stew thickening in the pot. She then fluffed the rice before turning to Kodjo with an expectant smile on her face.

“How is my Tayo?”

Kodjo’s expression soon matched hers, and Ramonda felt her chest tighten as she watched his face light up.

“He caught his first fish the other day at school. It was so big he could hardly lift it from the water.”

“Why am I just now hearing of this? I would have cooked it up with some-”

“Mama, he threw it back.”

“Eh?” Sade’s head whipped in her son’s direction.

“Your grandson let the fish go!” Kodjo explained.

Ramonda smirked at his accusatory tone while Sade shook her head lovingly.

“That boy is so sweet. A true gift from Hanuman,” the chef mused while she ladled curry into a large wooden bowl.

“That he is,” Kodjo sighed with a smile.

“How old is your son?” Ramonda asked him as Sade set the bowl down in front of her. Her eyes left her bodyguard and fell to the reddish brown stew, the steam floating up and filling her nostrils with the most delicious-smelling concoction.

“He will turn six next week.”

Ramonda hummed in response as she blew on the hot stew to cool it down. As she did that, her mind wandered to her children again, and she automatically felt for the kimoyo beads on her wrist, activating her tracking bead. Her eyes were drawn like magnets to the two figures moving around the map.

At least they were moving.

“What is that?” Kodjo asked, breaking the silence, and Ramonda looked up for a moment to see both of them staring down at the hologram in awe.

“My children.”

She zoomed in on Mt. Bashenga and saw that while Shuri was still out on the field, T’Challa was on the elevator, moving from the bottom of the mines to the panther statue. Ramonda sent another silent prayer to Bast and the ancestors before shutting down the hologram and picking up her spoon to taste her dinner. The second it breached her lips, her worries took a backseat to her astonishment at the new flavors she was introduced to. 

“Sade, this is phenomenal.”

“Uh, t-thank you,” Sade stammered, still shocked by the technology she had just witnessed. When she looked at her son, she noticed his eyes were wide with wonder.

Minutes passed before anyone said anything. Ramonda ate in silence while Sade began cleaning the kitchen, but Kodjo was glued to the spot staring at the beads on Ramonda’s wrist. The technology intrigued him. He had never even conceived of such a thing before, and his entire worldview had begun to turn on its head with just one visit from the lowlanders.

That worldview expanded even more when, minutes later, one of the beads separated from the others and rolled down into Ramonda’s palm, the king’s figure appearing in her hand as if she had shrunk him down and carried him in her pocket.

“Mama, it is over,” he said. “You can come home.”

What happened next changed the trajectory of Kodjo’s life forever. Until that moment, he had no more than a minor infatuation with Ramonda, but as her lips peeled back in a wide smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes, he was overwhelmed by the intense need to make her smile like that every second he could.

Kodjo’s feelings caught him by surprise. So much so that he stayed silent while he escorted Ramonda back to her room to gather her things. Not a word was spoken between the two of them while they traveled to the front of the palace and stood in the snow while the Royal Talon descended from the sky. Tayesha stood next to Ramonda, gazing up excitedly at the ship while all six of her children watched with their mouths agape. 

The moment the Talon touched down and the ramp hit the snow, Ramonda took off running, meeting her children before their feet could even touch the ground. The three of them stayed in their embrace while M’Baku and his warriors departed the ship, the chief’s brood of offspring tackling him to the ground before he could plant a kiss on his wife’s lips.

Kodjo watched the joyous reunion with a hint of jealousy, longing to feel his son’s little arms wrapped around his torso.

“Kodjo.”

He snapped out of his daydream at the sound of his name and stood tall as M’Baku and Tayesha approached him.

“You have done well. Thank you for your service today,” Tayesha said, and he bowed deferentially to the two royals. “Go, rest. And give Tayo our love.”

Kodjo smiled at her kind words.

“Yes, chieftess. Thank you.”

He bowed once more to them both, but this time, when he stood up straight, he caught a glimpse of Ramonda over Tayesha’s shoulder. She was looking in his direction at that moment and nodded his way before turning and boarding the ship. That small gesture sent his heart soaring, and the goofy smile that appeared on his face tipped off the chief and chieftess to his feelings.

“You know, the king has invited me to sit on his council,” M’Baku commented with a raised eyebrow. “I would like you to accompany me on our diplomatic trips down to the valley.”

Kodjo tried and failed to hide his excitement, but M’Baku and Tayesha noticed the twinkle in his eye at the thought of seeing his favorite lowlander again. They sent each other knowing glances before herding their children indoors to prepare for bed.

Kodjo stood outside watching the Royal Talon take off and disappear into the clouds, already plotting how he could make Ramonda smile again the next time he saw her. Thankfully, it wouldn’t be long.

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