#okoye needs a nap

[mickimomo]

Moonlight

Attoye-Week Day 1 - First Kiss

AO3 Link

@attoye-week

Peeps who asked to be tagged:

@dillie60 @tranzpurent (It won't let me tag you, but I tried)

[tvreadsandsleep]

» Domestic!Attoye || Attoye Prompt Drabbles || Master List « » Domestic Establishment #1 + I had this post in mind while writing this. «

The house was a mess. This wasn’t an unusual occurrence with having three rambunctious children—two of whom were learning to walk and had taken to grabbing and pulling down everything their new reach afforded them—occupying the premises. What was different was Okoye’s increasing annoyance at having to, not only, negotiate the chaos created by her kids, but also squeeze around the overly large furniture (needed to accommodate her husband’s colossal frame) and dodge all of the paraphernalia that they’d accumulated for the care of their little ones.

Her modestly sized house, which had previously only sheltered her and her daughter, was now filled to capacity with the addition of her husband and twin boys.

They needed more room. Attuma had introduced the idea, but she’d been resistant—unwilling to leave the place where they’d rediscovered one another and fallen back in love, or rather continued their love as it had never died. It was also where she’d given birth to their sons. She remembered laboring in the living room, her lower half submerged in a pool of warm water which had been arranged for her waterbirth. At the time, she’d begun planning how, while the boys were growing up, she would point to the spot, as she used the pain she’d experienced, to guilt them into acting as they should.

Despite her resistance, Okoye had always known, on some level, that they would eventually have to move. The house only had three bedrooms, including theirs. They already had three children, and the gleam in Attuma’s eye led her to believe that he would soon be campaigning for more. Also, while their abode was near the river, she knew it would be much more convenient for her husband if they were even closer—possibly in a dwelling partially immersed in the waterway.

Sighing at life’s difficult choices, she made her way into the kitchen. Her youngest son sat on her hip, clinging to her shirt, while his older brother toddled behind her. She’d meant to carry them both to their highchairs, but he’d refused, fussing when she’d attempted to pick him up. On her way, she edged past Attuma’s massive recliner and stepped over one of her daughter’s many stuffed animals.  

This being part of their daily routine, Okoye thought she had the layout of the kitchen memorized. She found she was sorely mistaken when, instead of an empty space, her foot made forceful contact with the leg of one of the highchairs.

“Shit!” She exclaimed, flinching so hard she nearly dropped her son. Fortunately, she regained her hold on him while she caught herself, using the palm of her free hand against the table. The small boy screamed in response; his chubby arms clenched tight around her neck as he cried in her ear. A soft thump sounded behind her and an accompanying cry came from his brother.

Both children wailing and her foot throbbing, Okoye’s mind was made up. They would, most definitely, be moving, and into the most spacious house possible.

[dino-fart]

My Jade Heart

Pairing: Namor x Female Reader

Genre: Romance, Comfort, Fluff

Summary: You saved Namor’s life but ended up with severe wounds. You are now in the medical bay of Wakanda in recovery. You haven’t seen Namor but can only hope he is alright. Good thing the King of Talokan had a feeling you would be worried about him and decided to pay you a visit. 

You lay there on the bed with the IV in your arm. The doctor told you that you would be fine thanks to Wakandan technology. You suffered from broken ribs and a large wound on your right side. You had a few bandages on your cheeks and head from the cuts. The surgeon had stitched your wound and you were on strict orders to not move for at least two weeks until therapy would come in and work with you. 

You were worried sick about Namor the whole time. You knew he was fine for the most part but how fine was he? Did he get any injuries? Princess Shuri kept telling you to stop worrying and that she’d sent a message to him. But you were getting restless. Okoye had to threaten to knock you out once. 

You now sighed as you sat up on the bed and scrolled through the iPad. You were catching up on emails, texts, news, etc. Whatever you can do to keep your mind off of the king. You closed the iPad after you had enough and closed your eyes to sleep. A gentle touch to your face awoke you from your nap. 

Your eyes opened to meet the gaze of the king. You let out a soft gasp and smiled softly. “Namor...” 

The great king smiled at you softly and gently cupped your cheek, “Mi salvador (My savior).” 

You blushed at his touch and felt his thumb gently stroke over the bandages. “I’m glad you’re okay.” You smiled. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner. I was tending to my people.” Namor leaves your side and pulls up a chair to sit by your bedside. 

“It’s okay, as long as you’re okay.” You nod. 

Namor gently set his spear against the wall and moved his hands to hold your bandaged ones. He pressed kisses to your covered knuckles. You blushed more at how tender he was being with you. The two of you had unspoken feelings before, lingering looks and gentle touches. And now, well now, nothing was holding you two back. 

You felt a fire stir in your stomach and leaned forward to press a kiss to his cheek. Namor turned his head to look at you and leaned forward to kiss your lips softly. You moved your hands from his and wrapped your arms around his neck. Namor rested his hands gently on your hips as he kissed you passionately. You moaned softly as you deepened the kiss. 

Namor let out a purr and gently laid your back against the bed. You winced in pain and Namor pulled back immediately. “My apologizes, mi yakunaj.” Namor whispered against your lips and pressed a few kisses along your jawline. Namor pulled back and reached for something in his pocket. You lay there, waiting for him, not having the energy to sit back up. 

Namor leaned back over on you and gently brought over a necklace. He gently put it over your head and around your neck. You picked up the pendant and gasped at the beauty of it. “A jade heart.” You smiled. 

Namor smiled back and kissed your brow. “Yes, my love, a jade heart for my jade heart.” 

You set the pendant down and cupped Namor’s face. You met his gaze and smiled at how he looked at you with so much love. You leaned forward and kissed him passionately. Namor pulled back gently, “Not too much, my love, you need to rest.” You nodded and nuzzled your head on the pillow. 

Namor stroked your hair back and his other hand held yours. Namor rested his forehead against yours and hummed a soft tune that lulled you to sleep. 

[journeyintofiction]

Request from anon: Overprotective Shuri where the reader gets kidnapped by Namor

Happy reading :)

I wake up with my head throbbing, my vision blurry, and confused. I try to sit up but feel a searing pain on my right side and crane my head down to see my shirt soaked in blood, and my arms were scratched. In trying to move back to my original position I groaned in pain, which alerted my captor to my sudden awareness.

“Well, well it is about time you woke from your little… nap”, I didn’t need to look over to know who was speaking. Yet upon looking at him I see him playing a game similar to chess by himself.

“Namor”, I say in a bored tone.

He looks at me carefully as if deciding how to approach me without having me lash out in response. “I am not intending on harming you, but your princess-”

I cut him off, “my queen.”

He smirks and continues, “... your queen has not granted me an audience after several attempts to set up a time. Our alliance is new and I am not pleased at the lack of responsiveness on Wakandas part.”

I scoff and turn my head away from him to look off into the distance before saying, “ Do you expect her to be chomping at the bit to see you? After all that has been done, after all YOU have done to her?” I chuckle and turn back to stare at him, “you have no shame.”

At my last comment he looked irritated and replied “An alliance is an alliance, both sides must uphold their end of the bargain regardless of the past discretion.” He shrugged his shoulders as if he was completely unbothered by all the death he caused. “What is it you surface dwellers say? “An eye for an eye.” You killed mine and I returned the favor.”

I look at him hard, “An eye for an eye and the whole world goes blind.”

He looks away from me at that and realizes the chess piece most akin to a king has been backed into a corner. I take the opportunity to rub in his loss, “It seems you have backed yourself into a corner in your game, just as you have with the queen.”

He doesn’t respond verbally but just grunts.

I turn away once more and giggle to myself at the irony. Checkmate bitch.

In Wakanda

“Where IS she Griot?” came the frustrated voice of the queen. After having her entire personal circle search the palace, the market, and the city for Y/N, she was beginning to get agitated.

“She appears to be in Talokan and seems stable with minor injuries”, Griot replies.

Shuri remains unresponsive for a moment, “So Namor took her to Talokan as a pawn for me to come and speak with him?”

Nakia is the first to respond, “it would seem so, but I advise we act fast because Y/N has minor injuries now. However, those minor injuries will turn into serious injuries the longer it isn’t treated.” Everyone collectively hums in agreement and begins a plan of action meanwhile, Shuri is quiet and unmoving.

“I will go and get her immediately.” Shuri says as she turns around to suit up.

“My queen I don't think-” Okoye begins but is abruptly cut off by Shuri.

“Okoye, he has been denied my audience and resorted to drastic measures which will cause tensions to run higher than they already are. I think it is best that I go there alone.”

After mulling it over Nakia and Okoye agree and stress that Shuri must be careful. After agreeing with them, Shuri takes her leave and makes her way to the ocean shore line. As she walked there she kept repeating the mantra in her head that y/n is fine and will be in her arms tonight.

In Talokan

Apparently after sitting for hours the blood loss finally took a toll and I passed out, only to be violently woken by yelling. I quickly open my eyes and try to orient myself which is hard given the blood loss and general fatigue. Before I have the chance to properly see anything I hear Shuri call out “Y/N!”

My vision clears and I see Namor and Shuri glaring at each other and it was obvious they had exchanged words prior to me waking up. As I tried to get up I collapsed and nearly face planted, if it hadn’t been for Shuri being a few feet away to catch me.

“What did you do to her?” Shuri yells in anger at seeing me so drained and weak.

“We did what was necessary to get your attention, we took her but she was quite the fighter and refused to come quietly” Namor replied with a shrug.

Shuri looks at him with disdain, “So you beat my partner into submission?Are you asking for another war?”

At that Namor looks startled and looks at the two of us sharply and replies while pointing at me, “you would start a war for her”.

“She is my partner, who I intend on making my spouse, you would be an idiot to think I wouldn't raise hell for her.”

Before he can reply, I feel Shuri start moving and I see we are moving to the exit of the cave before I pass out once more.

In Wakanda

I wake to the sound of steady beeping and the faint smell incense burning. I turn my head and I am immediately hit with pain at the movement and moan.

I hear someone rush over to me and gently move my head back to a more neutral position. I squint my eyes open and see Okoye standing over me and Nakia sitting up in the chair beside my bed. Okoye and Nakia look worried, tired, and stressed.

“How do you feel? Are you in pain anywhere?” Okoye quickly asked before I could say anything.

I nod, “my head hurts and my side is throbbing.”

“You had a concussion and multiple lacerations on your right side” Okoye responded sounding upset.

All the events of the last 24 hours came flooding back and I remember my injuries, where I was taken, who took me, and getting rescued. But, anything after leaving that cave is a blank hole in my memory.

“What happened after Shuri came and got me?”

Nakia is the first to respond, “due to blood loss from your untreated injuries you passed out on the way here. Shuri took you to the lab and the three of us helped patch you up”.

“Where is she now?” I ask confused at her not being here.

“She stepped out a few minutes before you woke up to get food for you because Griot said you should wake up within the hour” Okoye stated with a small smile.

They still looked quite upset at the state I was in so I tried to cheer them up. “Don’t look so down guys, I’m a little beat up but I’m not dead…yet.”

They look at each other then look at me with an eyebrow raised and the three of us quietly chuckle.

“Has she woken yet-“ Shuri asks as she makes her way down the stairs. Her sentence dies off when she sees the three of us staring at her.

Okoye and Nakia mention they are required elsewhere and leave us alone to speak. After the door softly clicks shut she walks over to me takes my hand and looks like she is gonna cry.

“My love I’m fine, just a little worse for wear” I say and try to smile.

She shakes her head and quietly says “He took you from me as a way to get what he wanted. I promised to protect and be there for you and you were stolen right from our borders.”

“Well I’m fine now and I know he won’t try this again given that you both seemed to come to an agreement, albeit a tense one.”

She nods apprehensively and intertwines our fingers with her thumb rubbing circles on my hand. “I am NEVER letting you go any without me ever again.”

I roll my eyes at the proclamation and give an exasperated sigh, “what ever makes you feel better…wait, does that mean we shower together too?”

Shuri face palms, “good grief woman, why is your head always in the gutter.”

Note: to the Anon who requested this, I’m so sorry it took me a few days to complete it. I have finals coming up so I have been busy, but please send in more requests and I will get them done as soon as I can :)

[pilesofpillows]

Won’t You Bring Me Whiskey? || Attoye Drabble || Western AU

Warnings: Hats off to Cowboy Attuma 🤠

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

“And here I was, thinking you’d forgotten me.”

Okoye acknowledged his presence without ever looking up from the papers strewn across her desk, right where Shuri had said she’d be.

Attuma smiled at her from the post he’d taken up against her office doorframe.

“Darling, I think I could take a hoof to the head and still remember every damn detail about you,” he replied with a soft laugh.

Her writing paused, and she spared him the briefest glance before returning to her work, amusement dancing on her lips. “Flatterer.”

“Maybe so,” Attuma conceded, standing to his full height and flashing her a charming smirk. He strode over to the large oak desk and leaned close enough to smell the lingering scent of orchids and amber on her skin and see the bright glint in her dark eyes, “but never a liar.”

She hummed in response, lips quirking up, and continued her writing. “Staying long?”

The question was a familiar one, and he thought he heard something like hope in her tone. But he ignored it just the same as the pang of disappointment that flashed through him, knowing the answer.

“Just until morning. We leave at first light,” he said quietly, rounding the desk and leaning against it as he admired her. Even after almost a year of this— whatever this was —he still found himself awestruck by her. From the sharp arch of her brow to the wide set of her nose, the deep bow of her full lips and elegant column of her neck, the sleek lines of her collar bones and supple curves of her breasts and hips, Attuma could spend hours cataloging her beauty.

He had.

“Tell me something,” Okoye started as she finished scrawling a few numbers in a ledger and interrupted his musing. “What does it say that your dog found her way here before you did?”

She chuckled at his questioning hum and closed her ledger, storing her pen. Then, she pushed her chair back, nodding to the black-and-white animal napping under her desk.

Attuma glanced down and snorted as Yawri sleepily blinked one eye open. “Comfortable down there?”

She sniffed at him, then crawled from under the desk, yawning and stretching as she went and placed her head in Okoye’s lap, preening as the woman began to scratch her behind the ears.

“You’re an awfully spoiled thing, aren’t you?” Attuma admonished playfully, shaking his head as her tail began wagging from Okoye’s continued attentions. He was suffering from a unique sort of madness where he found himself jealous of his own dog. “but I suppose you’ve got your priorities in order.”

Okoye shot him a dazzling smile lined with mischief. “Why Mr. Almehen, are you implying I’m a priority to you?”

Attuma froze for a moment, biting his tongue to stop the answer from spilling out. She always left him floundering, on the edge of laying out every secret his soul held. Gunfights held less danger, and yet—

His mouth curled into a dimpled grin as he replied, “No need for implication, Ms. Khubana. You occupy every spare thought I have.”

The admission earned him a playful arch of her brow, and she stood after stroking her hand through Yawri’s fur once more. Her eyes remained locked on him, and her skirts swished softly as she danced around the dog to close the short distance between them. His hands moved of their own accord, winding around her waist the moment she was within arm’s reach and pulling her into his chest. Okoye didn’t object; she simply traced her hands up his arms and settled them on his shoulders.

“Every spare thought?”

Her eyes studied him carefully, compelling the answer before there was thought to refuse.

“Mm-hmm.”

She pushed up on her toes, nudging his nose with her own, and something sweet on her breath danced across his lips.

“What about the occupied ones?”

Nimble fingers mapped the veins of his neck before burying themselves in his hair, and his eyes fluttered shut as she began massaging the base of his skull.

“Hm?”

His errant hands tightened around her waist and drifted down to the warm skin of her exposed back.

“Do I occupy your other thoughts? Even the busy ones?”

His eyes shot open, finding hers immediately. Dark eyes entranced and entrapped him, and Attuma drowned in twin pools of brown richer than the ripest cacao.

“Yes.”

His confession was rewarded with a kiss this time, and Attuma found himself uncaring for self-preservation.

Slow and searing, Okoye kissed him until he was drunk with desire and the whiskey that lingered on her lips. He kissed her back fervently, moving his mouth over hers until his mind spun from the lack of oxygen. The hand in his hair tightened as he pulled back, and he cupped her cheek with one hand, resting his forehead on hers as they breathed in tandem.

Orchids. Amber. Whiskey.

Okoye.

He never wanted to leave.

~plus venire~

A/N: I got bored and drunk and I’ve been watching a lot of Yellowstone and this has been in my drafts for… a while. Just a lil bit though I might circle back later... excuse my rambling in the tags

[cyb3rscoups]

Comfortable Enough (18+)

A/N: A glimpse into Modern!Okoye's day with her kids and night with her husband. Explicit Content Ahead. Minors DNI

Comfortable Enough on Ao3

As a mother of four, Okoye's head would've flew off a long time ago if she had not developed routine.

The sun would peek through her bedroom curtains and Okoye would stretch awake to find Attuma already gone off to work. She'd take a moment to herself first, though it didn't last long as her oldest, eight, would be knocking on her door with his persistent need to know what was for breakfast.

Then, she would have to shower and ready for the day before her second child, six , was eternally glued to her side. Everywhere she turned, there the girl was to the point Okoye found herself hiding in the bathroom for sometime during the day.

Of course, that would be followed by her two year old and his insatiable need to destroy and disarray anything Okoye found precious and valuable. With a strength that resembled much of his father's , Okoye was often found speechless at some of the things, he'd managed to do in just a few seconds.

Finally, her newborn would awake and scream her throat hoarse until she was fed a bottle and wrapped securely to her mother's back.

The house was never quiet, with the pattering of little feet, the occasional scream, and the television playing what every children's entertainment Okoye deemed appropriate.

There were an overwhelming amount of phrases starting with, "Mommy! Mommy!" Okoye dreading hearing the name any time after three in the afternoon.

Not to mention, she had gained the remarkable ability to carry three of her offspring at once and break up quips between the children with a couple snap of her fingers and the pursing of her lips.

Cleaning would often be done once at least two of them were down for a nap after multiple tantrums and protests.

When Attuma came home, Okoye could breath out in relief as the children fought each other to get to him first. By the time, he made it to his tired wife, he was bound by giggling little bodies clinging to different parts of his body.

"How are you?" A small smile would tell all he needed to know and he would send the children off to their own endeavors, taking the baby out of her arms and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"Go upstairs, relax. I'll take over for the night. Hm?"

"Thank you." She couldn't have disappeared up the stairs fast enough.

There were two additional hours of the night until she noticed all the noise stop, children promptly ushered to bed as a silence enveloped the house.

Slowly, she peeked out of the room to find that the only sound was from the kitchen where Attuma cleaned up. She took her time treading down the stairs and picking up any toys or evidence of their children left out of place.

"Hey." Okoye sighed.

"Hey, baby. Put those down, I'll get everything cleaned up." He gestured to the items she crowded against her chest.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Okoye. You have done more than enough for these kids today. Put that shit down." Attuma peeked around the area for any wandering underage ears.

"Shit.." She chuckled, starting to put the toys away despite his request. "Half of it is broken now. I should just toss whatever I don't like into the fucking trash."

"You'll break their hearts."

"Those little rugrats need to be humbled somehow."

Attuma chuckled as he made his way over to where she cleaned. "Hey, let me see you. You were up those stairs so fast, I didn't even get a kiss."

His placed his hands to the sides of her neck, massaging his fingers into the strained muscles gently. Okoye couldn't help the soft moan that escaped her lips as relief replaced the pain in the area.

Attuma smirked, satisfied with his work as he dipped down to meet her lips, capturing them in a soft kiss. Surely, the tension in their bodies melted into a puddle of nothing as they drew closer to each other, her hands around his waist, pulling him impossibly close against her body.

"Mmm." Attuma hummed, as he pulled away, pressing their foreheads together instead. "I missed you."

"I missed you. Always gone before I wake, I never get to hold you in the mornings." Okoye rested her head against his chest, hearing the steady heartbeat over the rustling of his clothing

"I'm sorry, Okoye. Trust me, it is just as hard to leave you." He pressed another kiss to her head and secured his arms around her waist, lifting her to her toes unintentionally.

Okoye giggled at how small she felt in the moment before hopping up and wrapping her legs around his waist and adjusted her arms to move around his neck.

"It is time for bed."

Attuma scoffed, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "You sure? Cause I was thinking-"

"Oh trust me, I can feel what you're thinking." She pressed her hips to the stiff member straining his pants. "All I'm saying is we move it somewhere else."

"Fair enough." He took off up the stairs, carrying her all the way to the bedroom before plopping her down on the bed and stripping of his shirt. "Now this, we haven't done in a while."

In a swift motion, her shorts and panties were else where and her pussy was exposed to cool air, much to Attuma's obvious satisfaction.

"It has been too long, woman. How dare you deprive me of such a treasure?" He dropped to his knees, slicking a finger up with her arousal as she squirmed.

"Put Shakespeare on hold, Attuma!" Okoye gasped as he folding her legs forward against her chest, prompting her to hold them close as he dipped his tongue to glide against her wetness with a groan.

"Love tasting this pretty pussy. You know that? Hm?" He slapped her thigh lightly, returning to his favorite place in the world.

Planting wet, sloppy kisses to her clit, causing her hips and jerk and rut against his nose. Her gasps were tight and sharp as she chased a release she had managed to lose some time ago.

Her trembling hands had freed her legs, allowing them to fall to his shoulders where he happily took hold of them in a bruising grip.

Not once did his eyes stray from her face, twisted and contorted in a level of pleasure only he could bring. His fingers massaging that spot inside her that sent all her moral thoughts to the clouds so that all that filled her head was him.

"A-Attuma! Oh!" She moaned out, opting to tangle her fingers in his hair, keeping his tongue flat against her cunt as she dragged her pussy across his face, her juices dripping down his chin and glistening on his cheeks.

The pace of his fingers sped and his tongue licked her up with a certain determination. "Fuck..fuck! I'm gonna cum!"

"Come on pretty girl. Gonna soak my face. I want to taste you for days on end."

If only she was able to break through the barrier of pleasure before a rapid knock on the door, cause Attuma to snap away from her.

Okoye wailed quietly at her lost ecstasy, a prize, snatched from her clutch at the last second.

"Mama? I can't sleep!" The voice of their two year old rang muffled through out the room, sending Okoye into a fit of rage.

Attuma stuttered to find words while Okoye seethed with anger, her glare burning into his head.

"Uh- Just- mama is sleeping! I'll be right there, okay?"

A sigh and then back to his room the boy went, leaving the couple quite speechless.

"I was right fucking there!" Okoye whisper yelled, launching a pillow into Attuma's body as he retreated to the bathroom to wipe his face.

"It's not my fault! I'll be back, promise!"

A/N: Me as soon as I heard the kid outside the door:

[letitiaslabyrinth]

DIDN'T DESERVE | PART TWO

warnings: feels. like a lot of them. talks about mental and emotional abuse. Shuri goes o f f. angst, angst ending in fluff, y'all get a happy ending this time dw pairing: Shuriri word count: 2.5k A/N: LISTENNNNNNNNN I know I'm late with this alright? I knowww but I'm here now so 😭 also my bad for dipping for like a week? maybe more than that but I'm gonna be honest this fic was kicking my ass cause I was going through a lot while tryna write. needless to say there's so much projecting in this it's c r a z y. anyways even tho this took me so long, im still not satisfied with the ending but i digress since i need sumn to give yall ignore any and all mistakes cause this isnt proof read.

It had been a month since Riri told Shuri she wasn't going to forgive her and it had been the worst month of both of their lives.

Shuri had basically overwhelmed herself with her work in the lab. She never left—she practically slept there most nights. 

It's not that Shuri had things to fix with the suits, hell, she didn't even bother looking at them because they reminded her of Riri, but she needed something to keep her hands and mind busy so she just worked on small projects.

People started to notice, obviously, but nobody said anything. It’s not that they didn’t want to, it’s the fact that they knew Shuri wouldn’t listen. She was in her own world right now—her own safe space and anybody who tried to break her out of it in any way would be yelled at. 

Okoye walks into the lab, rushing to Shuri’s side as she almost falls over. “kumkanikazi wam kufuneka uphumle," (My queen you must rest) she says, helping Shuri sit down.

“I’m fine, Okoye.” Shuri brushes her off and tries to stand, only to nearly collapse for a second time. Okoye sits her down again.

“You have buried yourself in your technology for the past month, Shuri. You are hurting your body.”

Shuri sits there for a second. Her head drops, making her sit up straight. “Alright, maybe, I should take a nap-”

“In your own bed,” Okoye interrupts.

“Yes, in my own bed, Okoye.” Shuri rolls her eyes in fake annoyance before leaving to go to her room.

Once she’s there, she takes a shower first. The water feels so nice against her skin that she doesn't wanna get out. 

Over an hour later, Shuri stepped out of the shower. She wrapped her towel around her body and made her way to her bedroom. She dried herself off and put on a pair of clothes then sat on her bed. It was quiet. She didn’t know how to feel with no foreign noise or voice in the background. Shuri shakes her head and puts her phone on her bedside table. That’s when she sees it. In the crevasse between the bed and the night stand was a photo. Shuri picked it up. It was a picture of her and Imani. It was their first date. Shuri can feel tears starting to form and puts the picture down. She closes her eyes and wraps her arms around her chest, slightly rocking side to side. She hasn't taken any time for herself since her breakup with Imani and now that she was, it… actually, Shuri didn’t know how she felt. At least, not exactly. Yes, she was hurt. Yes, she was upset, but what else? Imani had put Shuri through so much mental and emotional manipulation that even when they broke up Shuri didn’t realize it. Shuri doesn’t know if she should feel relieved now that she knows or not. In all honesty, realizing that she was basically nothing more than a plaything for Imani to control, realizing all the sleepless night and petty arguments would only ever end in Shuri apologizing whether she was in the wrong or not, realizing that her and Imani did have something real before things went south, it hurt.

Over the five years that they’ve known each other, they’ve broken up and gotten back together again a number of times. Shuri knew she shouldn’t have given in to Imani when she told Shuri that she had changed but Shuri missed her. I mean, could you blame her? Imani wasn’t the only person in their relationship and she wasn’t the only one who made the mistakes.

This breakup was different, though. It was final. Shuri and Imani had had an actual conversation, over text, about their relationship. Of course, Shuri had been the one who reached out first but when Imani told her she was tired of going back and forth, that was it. She left her alone.

Memories of how they were before they made anything official ran through Shuri’s mind. The midnight calls that would end up with Shuri falling asleep first because of how safe she felt with Imani. The constant texting and inside jokes they had with each other that no one else understood. The sound of her voice, her sweet, pretty smile that she always flashed at the camera, the future plans they had made with each other. Shuri had felt like she had met her true love, her first love. Ironic, huh? That the first person she ever dated would be the same person she would be with five, ten, twenty years later. Shuri had opened up to Imani about so many things. Things she would deny if somebody had asked her about it. Yes, Imani was Shuri’s first girlfriend but she made Shuri feel like they would never leave each other. Like they would stay together forever.

Shuri’s phone buzzes, the sound freeing her from her own mind. She lets herself go and wipes the tears she didn’t even realize had fallen. 

Ima ❤️

iMessage

Shuri dropped her phone. She got up, pacing around her room. So many questions started falling into her head all at once. She couldn’t think. She could hear her heartbeat in her-

Incoming call from Ima red heart

Shuri gasps, “Fuck!” 

Tears swelled her eyes. Why was Imani reaching out now? Just when Shuri was trying to start her healing process. Shuri sunk to the floor, head in her lap, hands over her head. She let her ringtone play out but even when it stopped she didn’t make any efforts to move.

She ended up sleeping there

Shuri hears Okoye’s voice when she starts waking up. Okoye’s shaking her and checking her vitals with her kimoyo beads.

“Okoye, I’m fine,” Shuri groans. Her side hurts from the way she slept but she barely even remembers sleeping.

“My queen, you have a visitor downstairs in the common area,” Okoye says.

Shuri prayed to Bast that it was Riri instead of Imani. "Tell them I'll be down in a second."

Okoye nods once before leaving.

"Imani?" Shuri says, causing her to turn around. She looks… different. A good different. But Shuri won't let herself fall for that trick again. "Why're you here?"

"I came to apologize." Her voice is different, too. It sounds more mature than Shuri remembered. "I was tryna reach out to you last night so that we could actually schedule a day that you weren't busy so I could come by but you didn't answer so I figured an apology in person would be better."

Shuri keeps her guard up while Imani talks, her arms folded over chest. "I don't forgive you."

Imani stays quiet for a few seconds. "What? Shuri, I said I was sorry."

"Yeah, and I do not forgive you. You put me through hell, Imani, and I know you didn't seriously come here thinking that those two words would make you forgive you for everything. And, to be honest, I would tell you how fucked up in the head I am because of you, but knowing you, you'd probably use it against me in the future, if we even talk. So, why don't you just save both of our time and tell me why you're really here."

"Fine." Imani takes a deep breath. "I wanna try this again. I know I hurt you, and I am sorry, Shuri, I was going through a lot at the time we were dating and I projected my emotions onto you, which I shouldn't have. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me and I can't live without you."

"Then don't," Shuri shrugs.

"What?"

"Live without me."

Imani smiles. "I knew you'd understand -”

"Oh, no no," Shuri cuts her off, shaking her head. "I'm not saying we can get back together, Ima, I'm telling you to kill yourself. You know, since you can't live without me, just don't bother living at all."

"Shuri, what the fuck? What's wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me is that my ex-girlfriend who mentally and emotionally abused me for years came into my house uninvited, gave a half-ass apology where she tried to turn herself into the victim, and then had the balls to ask me to get back together. That's what's wrong with me. You've ruined so many friendships I had and now thanks to you, I can't get them back. You knew I had never dated a girl before and you took advantage of that." Shuri raises her finger as Imani was about to say something. "And before you say it, no, we cannot just move on like we've done in the past. I deserve someone better than you. Someone who doesn't treat me like shit and doesn't ruin relationships I have with people just because they're insecure about themselves. So, do us both a favor and get the hell up outta my house. And if you can't find the exit on your own, Okoye and the other Dora will gladly help you." Just as the words left her mouth, Okoye and a few other Dora Milaje soldiers came from the shadows, spooking Imani.

"This isn't over, Shuri," Imani says while she's being rushed out. "You'll come running back!-”

"Oh, for bast's sake," Okoye says, rolling her eyes and pushing Imani out the house. "Make sure she leaves the city," she tells two of the Dora. "I do not want to see her here or anywhere in Wakanda again."

"Yes, General," They say in unison, escorting Imani off of Shuri's property.

Okoye turns around and sees that Shuri's sitting down on the couch. "Shuri, are you alright?"

Shuri nods. "Uh huh."

Okoye sits next to her. "You're crying," she says softly.

Shuri doesn't make any effort to wipe her tears or even hear what Okoye's saying. She's too busy replaying the "conversation" her and Imani just had. She hadn't expected to go off like that. She knew she was angry but she didn't realize she was that angry. Her words, her voice, her tone. 

"Can you give me a moment alone?" Shuri asks Okoye and Okoye nods once and rubs Shuri's shoulder before leaving the house.

Shuri sat on the couch until the sun went down. She didn't realize she had been staring into space for so long until she felt her eyes getting heavy. She gets up slowly and drags herself to her bed, falling into it once she's close enough. She holds her legs against her chest and continues staring into space.

Riri paces herself in her head. Stop acting like a pussy and just knock, she says in her head. She takes a deep breath and knocks on the door. It opens slowly.

"Riri?" Shuri opens the door completely. "What're you doing here?" Shuri looks…like hell. Her voice came off so quiet Riri had barely heard her. There's bags under her eyes and they're red and puffy. She's been crying.

Riri rubs her hand on the back of her neck, "I wanted to talk to you."

"I thought you didn't want anything to do with me," Shuri mumbles. Her tone isn't harsh or anything, it's soft again. Despite Shuri's words, she opens the door fully, stepping out the way to let Riri inside.

Riri walks in slowly and sits down on the couch, Shuri sitting next to her.

"I know what I said to you the last time we saw each other was harsh, Shuri," Riri says after a few minutes of silence. "And I wanna apologize for it."

Shuri tilts her head, "Ri, you don't have to apologize for-" 

Riri shakes her head. "No, I do. I'm assuming you and Imani broke up before you came to see me and instead of understanding where you were coming from, I brushed you off. You didn't deserve that and I know it's no excuse but the only reason I did is because I like you. That's why it hurts me so much when you cut me off."

Shuri pauses. I like you. Like. Not liked. Like. 

"You… you like me?" Shuri says slowly. "Like, present tense, Ri? Like, like like?"

"Yes, like like, Shuri," Riri says smiling.

"Even though I hurt you?"

Riri shrugs. "Everybody makes mistakes. Don't worry about it."

Shuri stays quiet for a few seconds. "So, what now? Are you…my girlfriend?"

Riri turns her full body towards Shuri, looking her in her eyes. "Can I be your girlfriend, Shuri?"

"Yes." Shuri's answer is immediate but she means it. She likes Riri. She's always liked Riri. Riri was easy to talk to, Shuri always found herself at Riri's apartment whenever she and Imani ended up fighting.

"Should we watch a movie?" Riri asks.

Shuri nods. "You can pick, I'ma go freshen up a little bit and get some blankets."

…

It's been four months since Shuri and Riri have started dating. 

Shuri's happier now, way happier. Her mental health since she and Riri have gotten together has slowly improved. It's taken some time but when Shuri finally opened up to Riri about what she went through while dating Imani, Riri almost booked a flight to LA just to find her. Shuri had to beg her not to because she knew how that would end and she didn't need her new girlfriend ending up in jail because of her ex.

"Mama, can you come here for a minute please?"

Shuri pauses the TV and walks over to Riri, who's in the kitchen. "Yes?"

"I want you to try something for me." Riri puts a plate of food in front of Shuri as she sits down on the bar stool next to the counter. Shuri's confused at first, she doesn't know what the dish is, but before she can ask the question, Riri speaks up, "It's ground beef and rice. You told me you'd never actually had it before so I decided to make it for you."

Shuri smiles at the fact that Riri remembers. She takes a small bite at first then a bigger one. "This is good, Ri," she says with her mouth slightly full. "Like, really fucking good." Riri covers her hand over her mouth to hide her smile but Shuri can still see it from the way her cheeks go up.

Shuri finishes her plate in a matter of seconds. Riri had been making meals for Shuri ever since she found out she had barely been eating and despite eating being difficult, Shuri finished her food every. single. time. 

"You like it?" Riri says, still smiling, "Like, you really like it?"

"Yes, Ri. It's so good." While Shuri goes to put her plate in the sink, she kisses Riri on her forehead. "You should definitely open that restaurant you've been talking about."

Riri chuckles and sits on the counter. "I want to, but to open a restaurant, first, I need money. Then, I need a vacant lot, and then I need employees and-"

"Baby, I have money. I have people and friends who can work for you."

Riri shakes her head, "No, no, I wanna make it there on my own, and I'd love your help but I don't want the foundation of my restaurant to be you cause then I'm gonna feel like I owe you for the rest of my life."

"I get it, Ri. I want to help you, I do, but since you wanna make it on your own, I'll let you and when you do make it on your own, I will be there with you."

[tchallasbabymama]

Preview of Ménage à Trois Part Deux

I'm feeling generous (also productive af), so here's an unedited preview of Chapter 1. Full chapter coming in January! Make sure you read the first part by then!

T’Challa tapped his long, slender fingers against the side of his leg, an annoyed grimace tightening his handsome face. He stood still in his quarters while his tailor put the finishing touches on his suit for the night, but internally he was getting more and more agitated as the time ticked on. Despite his mood, he couldn’t help but admire himself in the mirror. The embroidered black ensemble covered his streamlined body like running water, and the locs that usually dusted his jawbone were twisted back into an elaborate bun.

A knock at his door eased his mind momentarily, until his younger sister swept into the room in her suit that mirrored his, just with a gold scarf draped across her shoulders. T’Challa’s own shoulders slumped with disappointment, but he managed to pivot to positivity quick enough for Shuri to not catch his reaction. 

“Look at you copying your big brother,” he teased her.

Shuri rolled her eyes as she crossed the room, but still dapped him up.

“Whatever. I wear it better than you.”

“Who lied and told you that?”

“Your wife.”

His jaw tightened.

“Where is she, anyway?”

“Late.”

“I should have known,” Shuri chuckled. “She was late her own wedding.”

T’Challa grunted in response, and Shuri noticed the annoyance in his voice. She put up her fists, playfully tapping him on the shoulder with a weak jab.

“Come on, bro, she’ll be here. Chill out.”

“She’s two hours late.”

“Was there a problem with the opening?”

“No. According to Okoye and Bahati, she just could not be pulled away from conversing with the crowd.”

“You know how Zora is. Or has it been so long that you’ve forgotten?” Shuri asked him dramatically, with a hand to her chest. 

“Just wait until you meet someone. You’ll finally understand why being apart is so painful.”

“It’s been two weeks, T’Challa. You’ve gone away for longer on missions before.”

“Being the one left at home makes the time move slower.”

“I guess.” Shuri shrugged and plopped down on the end of his bed.

“Something bothering you?”

“Just your mother.”

T’Challa laughed.

“What did our mother do this time, Shuri?”

The princess groaned and fell backwards onto the bed.

“She won’t stop trying to set me up.”

“Who is it this time?”

“Nakia’s younger cousin, L’Nela.”

T’Challa’s face scrunched up disapprovingly. Even the tailor stopped moving the lint roller across the king’s chest for a moment to look at the princess in disbelief before continuing his job. 

“She’s not your type.”

“You know that. I know that. All of Wakanda knows that! But mother is horrible at lesbian matchmaking. Bast bless her for trying, but I don’t know how much more of this I can take, brother.”

“I will talk to her.”

“Well, actually, I came to see if Zora would-“

T’Challa’s beads chimed with the tone he had reserved for his love, and his communication bead rolled down into his palm. 

“Speak and she shall appear,” he grumbled as Zora’s hologram smiled up at him apologetically.

“I know, I know, I’m late-“

“Two hours, Zora?”

“I couldn’t just cut off the Ghanaian ambassador and ignore the excited children, T’Challa.”

“Brother’s been in a sour mood all day,” Shuri tattled from her spot on the bed, and Zora chuckled before her picture cut out momentarily.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting dressed-“

“Just now?! It’s a three hour ride!”

“I needed a nap!”

“I tried to tell her,” snarked Bahati, now promoted to Zora’s assistant, as she helped her into her attire for the evening. 

“Not you both ganging up on me! I can be late to my own damn event if I want to, and need I remind y’all I’m not even that late. We’ll be landing in a minute.”

“A minute?” T’Challa asked for clarification, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

“More like ten, kumkani wam.”

“Thank you for your honesty, Bahati.”

“Thank you for your honesty, Bahati,” Zora mocked. “You know, sometimes I think she’s your favorite.” 

“It’s because she listens.”

“Employees are paid to listen, wives are not.”

“Don’t I know it,” T’Challa smirked, and Zora mirrored the expression. 

“I’ll be there soon, love.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

Racing through the central African skies on the Royal Talon, Zora ended the call, and allowed the makeup artist to touch up her gold eyeshadow while Bahati zipped up the side of her backless black jumpsuit.

She knew she was pushing his nerves by running so far behind schedule, but Zora liked it when he was all worked up about one thing or another. Granted, that wasn’t actually her intention this time. She really did get caught up at the grand opening of the new Wakandan International Outreach Center in Accra, but she recognized that she should have planned for that possibility instead of booking a gala immediately after.

Zora sighed and eyeballed the beaded multicolored isicholo that sat on her vanity. Heavy truly was the head that wore the crown, especially on a day as important as this. After two years of working with T’Challa and foreign dignitaries to bring her vision to fruition, Zora was finally kicking off her student exchange program. One hundred teenage students, fifty from Wakanda and fifty from across the diaspora would trade places for a semester. Zora spent countless hours pouring over applications and hand-picking exactly who she thought would benefit most from the program, and now the diaspora students were coming to Wakanda for a warm welcome. 

As exciting as all of this was, Zora couldn’t help but feel a little empty inside because in order to build relationships with the foreign dignitaries, she had to lie. Not only did she have to lie, but she also had to hide a piece of herself all because of their conservative sensibilities surrounding polyamorous relationships. They knew her as Zora Franklin, Queen of Wakanda and wife to T’Challa Udaku. What they didn’t know was that T’Challa wasn’t Zora’s only husband. 

Taglist: @maddeningmayhem, @theblulife, @motheroffae, @love-mesome-me, @toni9, @brihann, @impremenior , @nahimjustfeelingit-writes , @brattyfics , @cecereads209 , @afriendlyblackhottie , @queengodiva619 , @musicisme333 ,  @dersha89 , @ljstraightnochaser , @bornamiracle , @strangeprincex-writes , @goddessofmischief0711, @griot-of-wakanda

[master-sass-blast]

Strong as Stone Part Six, First Half

Another two part-er! I’m sorry for having to chunk things out, but last week’s update was almost 10k words, post editing, and I don’t want to repeat that for this one.

Last time, we traveled with Okoye to the Jabari lands. Unfortunately, it was not for a relaxing, mildly sexy vacation with our favorite Gorilla Chief. M’Baku’s and Dewani’s grandmother --Olufemi--was dying; M’Baku called T’Challa to request that Shuri come to help Dewani through the difficult transition, and asked that Okoye come as well.

We also got to meet F’Tendi, the asshole uncle and “wasp” in the garden. He was hellbent on making things difficult, but --fortunately--Okoye, M’Baku, and Shuri were there to stop him.

To add to the two days of tragedy, T’Challa got news before leaving the Jabari lands that the UN had issued a new edict: Wakanda has fifteen days to prepare for an inspection envoy, or risks military repercussions. M’Baku and Dewani went back to Birnin Zana to help with the preparations for the worst case scenario, and Okoye started calling on her fellow warriors to help Wakanda prepare for the oncoming chaos.

Poor Okoye. She really needs a nap.

And, in Part Seven, she will have one. For now, not so much.

Rating: Back down to T for Teen! We have left the super heavy stuff behind (for now).

Warnings: Exasperation over politics, lots of stress, talk of nuclear warfare, the joys of dealing with the UN, swearing, and fluffy angst (flangst, for short).

Pairings: Okoye x M’Baku, Shuri x OC, and background T’Challa x Nakia.

This is also going up on my Ao3 account: Actual_Writing_Trashcan

@the-last-hair-bender

(FYI, let me know if you want to be tagged in my Tumblr updates.)

Without further ado, on to the story!

There will be times, regardless of how hard you try, that the current of life will pick you up from the river bed and sweep you downstream.

When that happens, you must stay calm. Keep your eyes in front of you, open and watching for obstacles that the current may try to smash you against. Sidestep the obstacles that you can, and focus on moving forward.

Keep faith, even in the chaos. Eventually, the current will slow, and you will be deposited on the riverbed once more, stronger and wiser for it.

Be careful, though, to only let the river move you, not own you.

What the river takes, it never gives back.

T minus 13 days.

Outwardly, she was placid. Her expression was smooth and even. Her breathing was calm and measured. Her posture was immaculate and appropriate for the setting. Nothing betrayed what she felt on the inside.

Which, considering that she felt like screaming and sprinting through the palace halls to burn off her stress, was probably a good thing.

Okoye sat with a practiced casualness as the Council debated how to handle the edict from the United Nations.

The weight of the demand had wiped away an old tensions and rivalries. The leaders’ faces were puckered with stress, and they spoke with tense, carefully modulated voices, but no frustrations past that leaked through the careful seal of anxiety.

It was as though the situation had surpassed the normal arguing and screaming they fell into and had deposited them into a sort of calm panic.

Personally, Okoye would’ve taken the screaming any day of the week.

“I admit, my King, the thought of nuclear warfare is... unsettling,” the leader of the Mining tribe said. “Even though Wakanda would be able to survive, the stress of the event would not be beneficial for her people or the surrounding area. If it comes to such an end, we ought to find a way to disarm the warheads before they touchdown here.”

The River tribe leader nodded. “I agree. We certainly cannot allow a group of colonizing outsiders into Wakanda, and we cannot permit devastation on the world outside our borders because they seek to punish us for acting within our rights. We must be proactive.”

“My sister is working on a way to disarm the warheads before they reach us, but I can’t guarantee that she’ll have them ready in such a short amount of time,” T’Challa said. “If push comes to shove, we’ll have to cleanse the surrounding area with our radiation filters and replant whatever is lost.”

Okoye watched as quiet displeasure rippled through the Council, then cleared her throat. “My king, would it not be possible to head off the UN through diplomatic means?”

T’Challa raised an eyebrow. “I’m open to suggestions.”

“The United Nations has no legitimate grounds to enforce a search of our weapons, even with the actions of Killmonger,” Okoye explained. “It might be possible to make an appeal to them. Once confronted with their lack of forethought and grounds for action, the motion would likely crumble.”

T’Challa quirked his mouth to the side as he mulled the idea over. “We would have to move quickly. We only have thirteen days to make a move. We’d need enough time to get the emergency meeting in order, plus time to travel.”

“Call the meeting, then” Okoye suggested. “Get the ball moving. In the meantime, Wakanda will prepare for the worst possible outcome. If the appeal falls through or can’t be made, we will be ready for whatever the outside world throws at us.”

When T’Challa hesitated, Nakia placed her hand on his. “It’s worth a shot.”

T’Challa sighed heavily, and nodded. “I’ll contact the leaders of the Security Council.”

“I’m surprised. You actually advocated for a diplomatic solution.”

Okoye smiled as she walked next to M’Baku. “I like to lead a balanced life.”

She was headed to Shuri’s lab to assess how she needed to task her women and the other tribes for the impending nuclear threat. Okoye suspected that M’Baku had tagged along to spend time with her. Normally, the Jabari Chief avoided the Princess’s lab at all costs.

Well, she wasn’t complaining at the company.

“Fair enough, but I still expected you to advocate for your spear, seeing as we need a fast solution.”

“Let’s call that Plan C,” Okoye said as they descended into the laboratory.

Shuri’s lab was a maelstrom of energy. Scientists darted back and forth, running simulations and checking equations. A holographic display of Wakanda’s external shield system hovered in the center of the lab, along with several lines of data that showed reach, strength, and the efficacy of the radiation absorption layer. Shuri was standing in front of the display, making the images whirl and shift with her hands and barking out orders to her team.

Dewani stood next to her, a stark contrast in her traditional Jabari clothes, seemingly unfazed by the chaos and tension around her.

Okoye bowed slightly as she stopped a couple feet away from Shuri. “Princess. How’s everything looking?”

“Not good,” Shuri muttered as she plugged scenario after scenario into her computers. “We might have more work to do than is possible in just under two weeks.”

“Never say die,” Dewani said as she rubbed her hand up and down Shuri’s back. “We’ll make it work.”

“There’s never saying die, and then there’s statistical improbability.”

“What do we need to do?” Okoye asked before the girls could get off track.

“Well, we need to place a set of filters in the Southern and Northern areas where the river falls outside of Wakanda. I don’t want to risk radiation entering through the water.”

Okoye frowned. “Shouldn’t the absorption layer handle all of that?”

“I’m not taking any chances. The absorption layer should be able to handle whatever the outside world could throw at us, but we should prepare the fallout shelters, just in case. They haven’t been updated in a couple of decades, though.”

Okoye nodded. “There’s five fallout shelters in each tribal city. It shouldn’t take long to upgrade them.”

“We’re also calling our War Dogs home, just in case there’s any retribution outside of what’s directly aimed at Wakanda. Some of them can’t be extracted until after the response date, so we’ll need our filters ready to clean up the fallout radius so they don’t suffer any adverse effects before they get inside our borders.” Shuri’s mouth pulled into a deep grimace. “There’s also one last problem: the Jabari.”

M’Baku raised an eyebrow. “What about us?”

“You aren’t contained by our shield system, and you don’t have any generators in your territory. I know that you disagree with our technology--”

“I think, considering the dire circumstances, we can bend our rules to allow the installation of the necessary generators. Send your people up as soon as you can.”

Dewani let out a groan. “Really? You’re capitulating that easily?”

“This is an emergency, Dewani. Hanuman will understand.”

“I know, but I had this amazing speech planned to persuade you if you hesitated! I had a three point analogy about how our uncle and the staunchest vestiges of traditionalism could go fuck themselves on a radioactive dildo! It was very poignant!”

Shuri clapped a hand over her mouth and braced herself against a nearby counter, shoulders relaxing as she shook with barely stifled laughter.

M’Baku glanced at Shuri, then shot Dewani a mildly admonishing look. “You’ll have to save it for another date.”

Dewani rolled her eyes. “Yeah, because we’ll definitely be facing another potential apocalypse in the near future.”

“Don’t jinx us,” Okoye said with mock sternness. “The universe has a way of making things happen.” She bit back a sigh as she looked up at the display, and started running things through in her head.

Installing the filters will take twenty-four hours, max. Retrofitting the fallout shelters will take about six days. Installing the generators in the Jabari lands will take three days, if we work around the clock. Settling the War Dogs will take as long as we have, and getting the filters up and running will take five days. If we start everything at the same time...

Okoye grimaced.

Because it wasn’t just preparing for round after round of radiation.

It was also prepping her women and the Border tribe foot soldiers for the tactics commonly used by the outside world and UN Peacekeepers, should it turn to a ground based assault.

It was directing the regular resource of soldiers on how to maintain order during a nuclear attack.

It was making a set of good-byes, in case things really went pear-shaped.

And, if the King manages to arrange an emergency meeting with the Security Council officials, my time to get things running will be cut in half.

Okoye straightened her shoulders and bowed to the Princess before walking out of the lab.

Nothing would be accomplished by standing and worrying about what may or may not be.

Bast, be with us.

T Minus 10 Days

Cold wind nipped at her nose, and snow stuck in small, wispy flakes to the fake fur border around her hood.

Okoye had volunteered to accompany M’Baku back to the Jabari lands to oversee the installation of the three shield generators --and the accompanying radiation absorption modules.

Shuri had still been neck deep in overseeing upgrades and testings for the filtering bots, which meant that the Princess couldn’t oversee the installation herself. Likewise, her scientists were also scrambling to make sure everything was ready for the potential nuclear fallout.

T’Challa was also unreachable, wading through the political waters with Nakia and Ramonda in a desperate attempt to arrange a meeting with the United Nations to stave off the investigation.

Which meant that Okoye was next on the list. 

She stifled a yawn with her gloved hand. At least I have a warm coat and gloves this time.

The final generator and module was almost done being installed, by Bast’s mercy. Within the hour, she would be on a ship headed back to the warmth of Birnin Zana.

M’Baku’s large hand came down on her shoulder, squeezing her through her thick coat. “How can you stand to wear one of these? You can hardly move.”

“It comes off easy if I need to fight,” Okoye said as she stifled another gaping yawn.

“Yes, and then you would freeze to death.”

Okoye rolled her eyes tiredly. “I would not freeze to death.”

M’Baku rolled the fake fur between his fingers, disdain evident on his face. “I’ll have some proper coverings made for you for your next visit up here.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“No, I don’t. I’m doing it because I want to.” M’Baku frowned down at her. “Are you alright?”

Okoye nodded as she hid another yawn behind her hand. “I’m fine.”

“You look like death warmed over.”

“How flattering.” Okoye yawned again. “I’m just tired.”

“General,” one of the workers called. “We’re done here. Everything’s integrated and ready to go.”

Okoye nodded. “Notify the Princess immediately so she can run her tests. I need to head back to the capital.”

M’Baku followed after her. “They won’t really launch their weapons at us, will they? I mean, surely, they must know that anything they could throw at us will be like a gnat swatting horse, right?”

Okoye unzipped her coat as she stepped onto the ship. “Colonizers are a fickle bunch. I wouldn’t put anything past them.” As the ship lifted off the ground, her kimoyo beads started beeping.

T’Challa’s tired face smiled up at her. “I managed to arrange a meeting between the Security Council and us. I’ll fill you in when you get back.”

“Excellent. The last generator and module are online in the Jabari lands. The whole of Wakanda is protected.”

“Good. I’ll see you in a couple hours.”

Okoye bowed. “My King.”

M’Baku nudged her towards a seat. “You should rest.”

“I can take care of myself, M’Baku.”

“I don’t doubt it, but that doesn’t change the fact that you need to rest. You look like you’re about to fall asleep standing up.”

Okoye barely kept herself upright as a wave of exhaustion crashed over her.

First the festival, then Olufemi’s death, and now this?

“Forget a nap,” Okoye muttered. “What I need is a vacation.”

M’Baku wrapped his arms around her and held her against his chest. “Rest for a bit, my love. I’ll wake you up if anything exciting happens.”

Okoye wanted to retort, but she was quickly swept away by a dizzy, swirling sensation as her eyelids fluttered shut.

The last thing she remembered was her coat falling off her shoulders.

“Okoye. Wake up.”

Okoye’s eyes snapped open.

She was pressed against M’Baku’s shoulder, half-sprawled across two seats. Her jacket was draped over her legs in a pseudo-blanket.

Okoye groaned, pushed herself into a sitting position, and stretched her neck. “Where are we? What time is it?”

“We’re back at the palace. It’s mid-evening.” M’Baku brushed his thumb against her cheek.

“We should go. The King is waiting for us.” She stood and tried to force the sleep out of her brain as she descended onto the landing platform.

“General.” One of the many palace assistants scurried towards her. “The King is waiting for you in the main conference room. Is there anything I can get for you?”

“Yes,” Okoye muttered as she tried to shake the fog that was coating her mind. “Coffee, black, two shots of espresso.”

And a week’s sleep, if you can spare it.

“I’m still not sure what the point of a meeting is if these colonizers won’t even listen to us!”

Okoye watched for her seat as Shuri paced around the room, making agitated gestures with her hands and arms. How can she still have so much energy?

“I’m afraid I have to agree with the Princess,” M’Baku said from his seat next to her. “Wouldn’t our time be better spent in preparing Wakanda for war? By your own admission, the outside world isn’t fond to listening to people like us.”

T’Challa shook his head from his position at the head of the table. “Perhaps, under normal circumstances, but I think we’ve happened upon a strategy that will guarantee our victory... which brings me to a request of you, Chief M’Baku...”

M’Baku raised an eyebrow. “Careful, my King, or you’ll end up owing me a lifetime of favors.”

“I think preventing the subjection of Wakanda into war with the outside world is sufficient enough compensation for whatever one of your favors might cost.”

M’Baku shrugged. “Fair enough. What is it this time?”

T’Challa smiled. “I need to borrow your sister.”

Okoye tensed as M’Baku’s mood went from amiable to stony within seconds. Please don’t start a fight, not now.

“You want to take my sister to the colonized world? When they have threatened to attack us?”

“T’Challa and I have come up with a really good strategy to handle the Security Council, but it takes both of us to execute it,” Dewani said. “I have to go!”

M’Baku shot his sister an unimpressed look. “You’re on a first-name basis with the King?”

Dewani shrugged. “Hey, he’s going to be my brother-in-law someday. Why over formalize things?”

Shuri let out a surprised laugh. “Brother-in-law? What, you’re planning on marrying me?”

“Hey, you’re nuts if you think I’m letting someone as amazing as you get away.”

Okoye watched M’Baku soften as the two girls traded gentle smiles.

He sighed deeply, then rubbed his temples. “Fine. But I have conditions.”

“Name them,” T’Challa said.

“One: you will have a full security team accompany you. Non-negotiable.”

T’Challa nodded. “General Okoye, along with several other members of the Dora Milaje, will be joining us.”

M’Baku relaxed slightly. “Two: I’m coming with to make sure my sister stays safe. That’s not optional, either.”

“Very well. We’ll make sure you have what you need before we leave.”

“Three.” M’Baku pointed at Dewani. “You will do exactly as General Okoye and the King tell you. No arguing, no exceptions. Am I clear?”

Dewani nodded. “Totally.”

“Four.” M’Baku pointed at T’Challa again. “If this goes well, no Council meetings for a few weeks. I’ve had enough of scrambling between my people and yours for a while.”

T’Challa sighed, then nodded reluctantly. “Provided that the world doesn’t fall apart again, I think that can be arranged.”

“The world can damn well wait. I’m tired of the heat down here.”

T’Challa expression briefly twisted into something akin to annoyance, but smoothed back out into a practiced calm. “Is there anything else?”

“No.” M’Baku stood. “And I’m going to bed. I’m exhausted.”

T’Challa opened his mouth to argue, but stopped when he caught sight of Shuri yawning. “We could all use some rest before our trip.”

Okoye watched as M’Baku left the conference room, trailed closely by Dewani and Shuri. “I’m surprised that he didn’t put up more of a fight.”

T’Challa sighed as he sank back in his chair. “I think Dewani had that marriage comment planned before she got in here.”

Okoye raised an eyebrow. “You think she didn’t mean it?”

“No, I know she meant it. I also know that she’s remarkably adept at getting her brother to act more agreeably.”

Okoye shrugged. “Given the circumstances, I’m not complaining.”

“Neither am I.” T’Challa rubbed his hands over his face. “One week. I’d just like one week without some sort of event to plan for or disaster to avoid. One week.”

You and me both, Okoye thought. Speaking of which... “My King, if I could make a request?”

T’Challa raised an eyebrow at her, then nodded.

“Once this is all sudden done, I’d like a vacation.”

T’Challa laughed tiredly. “I think we all want a vacation, Okoye. Rest assured, if we can defuse the situation, you’ll have your time off.”

Thank Bast. Okoye stood, bowed, and began the long walk back to her quarters. Once she was there, she fully intended on collapsing into her bed and sleeping until she absolutely had to be up.

She’d need all the sleep she could get. In three short days, she’d be flying to London.

Bast, help us to end all this.

[fluffymcu]

The U-turn

Inspired by the “he’s leaving now, you can come over” trend on tiktok

Bucky x sister!reader (Bucky and the reader don’t live at the compound here)

(and yes the wakandans have their own reality show bc I think that would be so hilarious and entertaining 💀

Also it’s 3am so I’m writing this with half a brain cell working overtime so sorry if it’s bad

You smiled at the tiktok you were watching of a girl texting her boyfriend “he’s leaving, you can come over now” as he was getting in his car. You watched him glance up at the apartment and funnily run his way back inside.

You immediately had the idea to do the same with your brother.

“Hey y/n/n I’m going over to the compound to pick up some papers for a mission.” Bucky said as he poked his head into your room. You perked up.

“Perfect!” You grinned. Bucky furrowed his brows at you and have you a weird look.

“Perfect?” He echoed. You widened your eyes just a bit.

“No. Nothing. I’m gonna take a nap don’t bother me!” You rushed out, engulfing yourself under the covers. Bucky stared at the lump on the bed for a second more before leaving.

“Okay... I’m be back in an hour.” He said hesitantly, suspiciously closing the door. You snickered to yourself once he left, running to your window and watching him until he left the driveway. You made a dramatic evil laugh to entertain yourself and skipped over to the living room to watch an episode of Keeping up with the Wakandans. You wanted to wait a bit until he was farther from home to make it that much miserable for him.

“Move. Or you will be moved.”

Okoye: Ayo asked me to move. I was so taken aback and offended. So offended in fact, that I had to restrain myself from reaching for my vibranium spear.

Ayo: Okoye was in my way. I asked her to get out of the way as politely as I could. I don’t know what else she could want from me. But if you don’t like the way I say it, don’t get in my way.

“

”

If you lay a little finger on me, I will make sure to wrap you up in a nice little package and send you as a snack to M’Baku’s children

Okoye: Clearly she is upset because we still haven’t opened a Starbucks in Wakanda. But we have more important things to take care of other than coffee. But I don’t see how she could be offended over my response. We wakandans are honorable people. We do not lie, nor belittle ourselves for the sake of other’s emotions. So as you can see, what I said to her was straight from the heart!

T’ challa: I don’t know where all this conflict started between them. That’s all I have to say. Can I go now?

Shuri: it’s great!! Okoye and Ayo keep acting out the scripts that I give them, you record them, and we get the money! It’s my most entertaining and innovative idea I’ve come up with so far. And I’ve come up with some incredible things!!

You were invested in the show that you almost forgot about the prank. Snapping out of it, you grabbed your phone and clicked on buck’s contact. After typing out the message, you hit send with a mischievous grin. You didn’t know what to expect but it was exciting sobre it’s been a while since you’ve really messed with your brother.

Bucky was halfway to the compound when he heard his phone bing. The notification sound let him know that it came from you, so he opened it to see what you needed, holding up the phone so he would still see the road.

He’s gone, you can come over now baby :)

His eyes comically widened in terror, not being able to take his eyes off that last word.

Baby.

In an instant, he slammed the brakes, eliciting a stream of honks from the cars behind him that almost slammed into him. He couldn’t even pay mind to them as he made a 3 point turn and quickly started driving the opposite way: home. While he drove, he dialed your number on speaker, bouncing his free leg anxiously. The call quickly went to voicemail which made him sit up in shock and anger. He called you again, going straight to voicemail. And again. And again!

You were giggling your head off seeing the screen constantly light up with Bucky’s name on it. You kept quickly hitting deny, just imagining his hilarious state. Soon you found yourself laughing out loud clutching your belly as the calls kept coming and he did not stop! You actually wanted to answer for a split second to hear his reaction personally but decided milk the prank a bit more.

Bucky had never driven so fast in his life. He was mentally thanking Tony for this car since it was able to reach high speeds. He couldn’t get the image out of his head if you having a boyfriend yet. Maybe at 40 years old, no, maybe 50. No- Just to be safe, 80 years old. But not now!! You were WAY too young to be with someone! He was the only man you needed in your life right now. The thought of a boy being in his house right now... alone... with his little sister who’s too innocent for this world?!?!? He was barely even paying attention to the road anymore. It was like he was being driven by a motor, automatically driving down the street, his head flooded with thoughts.

You were satisfied, munching on a bag of chips as you finished your show, when you heard the screech of tires pull up at your house. That’s when it cocked and your stomach dropped. He had come back.

You weren’t really expecting him to come back, let alone be back so fast. You jumped off the couch with a nervous squeal leaving your throat as you went to hide.

Not a second later, Bucky kicked his way in the house. “HEY! WHO’s IN HERE?” He boomer, putting on his intimidating voice. He stomped all over the house, searching for the boy. And you. “Y/N!”

“Y/N”

“Y/N!!”

You were in the closet upstairs, your eyes wide open in shock. He sounded serious. Maybe you should have picked a different prank. Still, you couldn’t help but find the situation hilarious.

“HEY! COME OUT! NOW. Y/N I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU HAVE A BOY IN HERE!!” You heard him from downstairs, throwing your head back as you laughed as quietly as you could. You heard him stomp his way upstairs and you quickly covered your mouth. “IF THERES A BOY IN HERE, HE BETTER COME OUT NOW. BECAUSE IF I HAVE TO WAIT ANOTHER MINUTE, I JUST MIGHT SWITCH!!” He growled. You gasped to yourself in surprise when he said that. You knew he wasn’t capable of switching another thanks to Shuri, but it was still so funny to hear him say that.

Having enough of this, Bucky stood perfectly still, closing his eyes and focusing on what he heard. He felt his superheating adjusting and zoning into all the sounds he could hear. Cars from outside. Wind blowing. A/C air circulating. Clock ticking. Light bulb hum. Giggles.

He opened his eyes and without moving a muscle his eyes followed to the closet door. He picked up light muffled giggling. Had to be you. He quickly rushed over and yanked the door open, making you scream. He grabbed your arm and pulled you up and out. “Where is he.” He huffed, letting you go and looking all around your room and you watched him with laughter.

“Where’s who?” You giggled, crossing your arms. He didn’t look at you, but you saw his eyes dulled in annoyance.

“Don’t play with me y/n. I got a message from you that was supposed to be for your little boyfriend. You sent it to me instead.” You growled.

“Whahat message?” You shrugged, playing dumb knowing it got on his nerves more. Finally he looked at you with an expression that told you he was done, and started to walk towards you. You burst into nervous giggles and ran across to the other side of the room to dodge him.

“Where is he.” He asked again. “I’m serious Y/n. Where’s the boy.” He began to look more hurt and sad than furious now. You decided that it was enough messing around and tell him the truth before he got sad.

“There’s no boy, Buck. I was just playing.” You said in a light voice, throwing your head back and rolling your eyes. His face stayed the same. He didn’t believe you. “Really!”

“I got the text, y/n.” He deadpanned.

“I know, I did it on purpose, dummy! It was a prank!” You laughed. Bucky’s jaw dropped as his eyes Dulles again.

“So you made me come alllll the way back home... all the way back!... for nothing?? After I needed to get some oh so very important papers from a place almost an hour away, you make me turn back after I was half way there... for a prank??!?” Bucky stressed, raising his brows at you. You had to bite back your giggles but it wasn’t working too good. You raised your hands in defense.

“Hehey, in my defense, I didn’t think you were gonna actually come back here!” You shrugged sheepishly.

“Well if you send a text like that then decline every call I send your way, YEAH IM GONNA COME BACK!” He exclaimed, making a beeline towards you. You run out the door with a squeal, giggling loudly as you ran from your brother who was hot on your heels. You couldn’t deny that as scared and nervous you were, you were having so much fun messing with Bucky.

You ran downstairs and tried getting to the kitchen island but before you could get there, Bucky caught you. He grabbed you from behind and lifted you up, wasting no time in mercilessly digging his fingers into the middle of your belly, ignoring your loud hysterical laughter. “NAHAHAHAHAHA!! BUHUCKY STAHAHAHAP!!” You arched your back against him but that only pushed your belly more into his hands, making you try to flop around like a fish. He carried You over to the couch, sitting down with you in his lap. You quickly tried to roll off from him but he grabbed your arm and lifted it over your head, blowing a big raspberry on your ribs. You yelped and flinched hardly at the ticklish feeling, kicking your legs out to distract you from it.

“I’m really enjoying my payback by the way. Very satisfying. And it’s almost making the trip back here worth it” He hummed, hooking his arm under your neck to nuzzle his stubble into it, making playful nomming noises. You screamed, trying to scrunch up your neck. He knew his stubble always killed you. “BUCKYHYHYHY!!” You pushed at his chest. You managed to slip out of his arms for a moment but only made it a couple of feet before he caught you again with a chortle. “Ohohoho! Where do you think you’re goin? We just started!” He smirked, grabbing you by your legs and holding you halfway upside down.

“NohohohooooOOO!” You cried, protesting as he was only holding you on one side while using his metal hand to tase his finger in your belly button, grinning at your hysterical cackles. It amused him how you’d try to “ab crunch” your way up to stop him but were too weak with laughter to sit up very long. “Awww, don’t like a wittle tickle? Hm?” He teased in a baby voice, bending over with you still in his arms and rubbing his face all over your belly and mumbling the same things.

“NAHAAAAHA!! SORRYYYY IM SOHOHORRY BUCKYHYHY!!” That drove you crazy, finally making your laughter turn silent as all you could do was silently slap at his head. Bucky giggled at your hysterical reaction.

“Oh, you’re not sorry, you’re just sorry you got caught!” He laughed, pausing to give you a minute to breathe. “And cause you want me to stop!” He sang with raised eyebrows, starting to dance his fingers at random places on your belly and sides to keep you guessing, eliciting a new stream of giggles out of you.

“NohohoHOOO PLEHEhease!! Buhucky dohohont! Ihihit tickles!!” You laughed, trying to block his fingers as best you could. Bucky chortled and shook his head, momentarily setting you on your feet before quickly lifting you by your sides and throwing you in the air, blowing a big raspberry on your belly each time he caught you. Butterflies swarmed your stomach at the feeling, lagging your heart out.

“Who’s the tickle monster??” He teased, throwing you up and tickling you again and again. “Huh?”

You could hardly even think anymore, the only thing going through your head was how much it tickled. All you could do was laugh and hiccup. Bucky could tell you were out of it, laughing along with you. With a few hiccups You about about to let out an exhausted “You!” before he finally stopped.

With a chuckle he carried you on his hip to your room before playfully throwing you into your bed from the doorway. You squeal as you landed on the mattress and giggled, getting under the covers for a nap while he walked to your bedside. “Jerk.” You mumbled sticking your tongue out at him.

Bucky quickly scratched under your chin to make you flinch and scrunch your neck up, effectively making you close your mouth. You whined in annoyance that you couldn’t get the last laugh and slapped his hand away. “Take a nap, Trouble. We’re going to Steve’s later to watch the game.” You gasped as you perked up. He immediately raised a finger. “Ah!! To watch the game. Not to play around with Steve. I wasn’t even gonna bring you cause I know you’d hog him all up trying to get him to entertain you. You spent all day with him yesterday. It’s game time now.” He said, watching as you pouted with narrowed eyes. “But I know if I don’t bring you, you’re gonna be a big baby about it.” He smiled sarcastically.

“Hmph. Fine.” You huffed. “But I get him during commercials and half time.” You smirked. Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Sure.”

[mickimomo]

Attuma with the babies - part 2

Based in the Sun & the Sky AU

My thoughts:

When it was time for the twins to get their shots, Attuma was not allowed to be in the building. The first time one of the twins got poked with a needle and bursted into tears, Attuma had his hands on the poor doctor within half a heartbeat. The nurses had to get Okoye to pry him off of the dazed woman, and walk him out.

After that incident, he was forced to stay outside until everything was done. He was livid. Especially since Okoye was bawling her eyes out as she held the twins. But thankfully, he was allowed back in to comfort his family once all the shots had been given.

He was kinda pissed that he had to apologize to the doctor to be allowed back in, but he did it. (The things this man would do for his wife and sons. 🤧)

Attuma always looked forward to feeding the twins. He'd prepare a bottle of breast milk Okoye had pumped in a bag and tossed in the freezer and fed them while humming a soft tune. Once they were done, he'd burp them and hold them close on the sofa.

Then the twins would dose off, and he would feel obligated to stay still until they woke up. That typically led to him taking a nap with them.

Okoye would sometimes come home for lunch and find her husband knocked out with two tiny babies resting peacefully in his arms.

And she would take a picture every single time before placing a soft kiss on all of their heads.

Attuma was even more excited when the twins could finally start eating homemade baby food. He had been looking forward to the day they could start weening off of breast milk and enjoy the softer foods of Wakanda and Talokan.

Sure, they were a bit huffy, and the tears often made him run to the freezer to appease him, but Attuma slowly won them over with mashed up fruit and spoonfuls of thickened atole. He'd imitate dolphins and whales as he fed them and wipe their hands and mouths clean once they were done.

What he wasn't ready for was when their teeth started coming in. The wailing was endless, and all of the remedies only provided temporary relief.

He had finally settled on giving them frozen breast milk and tiny pieces of cold watermelon to soothe their aching mouths in the day. At night, he'd sing them a melody that washed away the pain. Long nights of singing led to long mornings of sleeping. Where he dropped the ball, Okoye picked it up. After a month, it became obvious that he was getting worn out.

Even he felt useless and inadequate sometimes. This was all he could do to satiate them. They despised numbing gels and would scream whenever they tried anything else. All he wanted to do was close his eyes and get an ounce of shut eye. But he loved his family too much to break down now.

Okoye could tell he was struggling and changed her working schedule to pull him out of the storm he was sitting in. He was such a kind and loving husband. He was an amazing father, too. But he was also human (although slightly mutated), and humans need breaks, too.

She'd often find him laid out in exhaustion, struggling to get a moment of peace but too stubborn to let Namora or Shuri or Aneka watch the twins. Okoye knew how much pride he took in taking care of their sons. Asking for help in his mind made him feel inadequate.

Some days, Okoye would hand the babies off to their aunties while he was sleeping. Leaving a note and a home-cooked meal on the counter, so that he could have the day to himself without any worries.

Other days, she'd put the twins down for a nap and hug him tight. She'd rub his back or brush his hair. Shower him in kisses and force him to go out and get some fresh air while she took care of the twins.

He always took care of her, so she'd take care of him. It was like they poured into one another to keep both of their cups full.

He was grateful and appreciated having such an attentive wife. And he was relieved when the tooth growing pains were over.

Attuma's heart soared when their twin sons began to walk. I mean, every milestone made him happy (minus the teething era). But this was just the cherry on top.

They both stumbled from his arms to Okoye's open ones with shaky little legs and happy giggles and squeaks of excitement.

The joy only dwindled slightly when they learned how to run and get into things. It felt like they were everywhere and getting into everything, every time he blinked or stepped away to do something.

Whenever they were getting into too much, he'd scoop them up, get one of the patterned wraps, and wear them until they dozed off.

Okoye always found it funny how their babies would fall asleep whenever he did this. She figured it had something to do with how much he did it when they were younger.

Sometimes, Okoye would doubt herself. Maybe she wasn't a phenomenal mother because the twins- aht aht. Attuma never let her finish those thoughts. He'd always kiss her and remind her that she was a good mother. And the twins solidified that when they spoke their first words.

To everyone's surprise, they boys' first word was K'iin and then Na'. Well, everyone but Attuma. Attuma had been gushing to their sons about Okoye everyday in the most wholesome of ways. Always reminding them of the mayan equivalent to each English word, Sun and Mom. Always reminding them of how amazing she was. Sometimes he'd bring them to watch Okoye spar and train with Aneka, so they could see their mother in action.

"This is how K'iin stole my heart." He whispered to the two babies settled on his lap as he sat on a bench. "The first time I met Na', she threatened to kill me and took out all of my soldiers. Then she cut my cheek." He chuckled softly at the memory as one of the twins attempted to bite his hand, and the other leaned against him drowsily. "To think we have you now. Chaac and Bast must have planned it all."

So imagine his surprise when the third word they spoke was Baba. Apparently, Okoye had been coaching them and teaching them xhosa while he was away. He didn't realize she was gushing about him too.

In short, he was all over Okoye that night, after the twins went to sleep.

Both of the twins are similar to Namor, in the sense that they are fine on land but seem to be stronger and heal faster when exposed to water. Although, they have to be exposed to water for long periods of time. They can also breathe through their skin like the god king.

This was discovered when the 3-year-old boys had fallen ill one summer. No one really knew what was wrong with them, and Okoye was panicking seeing them so lethargic. They were extremely restless and miserable, and it broke her heart seeing them like this.

Attuma asked the priest and herbalists of Talokan for assistance, and they had them bring the twins to the river.

Okoye was reluctant at first, but with a bit of assurance, she agreed. Both of their hearts nearly stopped when the twins were pulled underwater. The only reason everyone's head was still connected to their neck was the fsct the twins were flourishing. They had taken to water like fish. Apparently, they had spent too much time playing in the sun and needed more time in the water on hotter days.

Now that their parents were aware, the twins were allowed to play in the water with supervision. A few people were terrified at first because of the hammerhead sharks that would occasionally swim through. But, you know, Pakal and the squad had to come see the babies.

The twins loved Pakal. (So much that Namora made them shark plushies.) Attuma would help them pet the shark's side and watch them giggle as he nudged their floating toys.

The most curious thing was how much the shark would stay by Okoye.

Pakal had always favored Okoye to Attuma, but he seemed more restless than usual.

Almost as if he was guarding something, but Okoye would only whisper to the shark and shoo him away.

A few weeks later, Okoye shyly revealed that she was pregnant and Attuma was over the moon.

He was a little hurt she had tried to hide it, but the surprise she had thrown erased his pout.

Another bundle of joy!?!

Sign him the fuck up!

and that concludes Part 2 ♡

[tvreadsandsleep]

» Domestic!Attoye || Attoye Prompt Drabbles || Master List « » Sex Toy Chronicles #3 — Continuation of Pillowcase «

Attuma’s dick pulsed, its hard length pressing into his belly as he fed the first of his fingers into Okoye’s ass. She accepted them, her lower muscles relaxing while her back arched towards him. Mesmerized, he watched his blue digit disappear into her body, thanking every one of his gods that he’d been mindful enough to grab the lubricant she kept stored in her nightstand. Any delay of his entering her body, in this way, would have caused grave damage to his soul. It was a near thing, though, his mind turned lecherous by the state in which she’d greeted him.

When he’d arrived at her home, he’d let himself in using the passcode she’d given him. He’d announced himself, bellowing her name, but there’d been no response. And so Attuma had gone in search of her. He’d found the kitchen and living room, the usual areas she could be located, empty. Moving further into the house, he’d headed for her bedroom. It’d been early, and, while Okoye wasn’t prone to napping, maybe she’d needed to lie down. He’d remembered keeping her up most of the previous night, wringing orgasm after orgasm out of her body until she’d begged him to stop.

Smug grin overtaking his face, he’d pushed open the door to her bedroom and had been, unexpectedly, greeted with the most arousing of sights. His warrior. His sun. His Okoye had been clothed in the most sheer of fabrics. Though it’d covered her breasts, he could easily make out her nipples, the dark tips pebbled and drawing his attention. A rose had been embroidered at its center, nestled between the globes, on which he loved to pillow his head, and situated above a slit that left the material to drape on either side of her abdomen and thighs.

Attuma had had no name for the clothing, but had delighted in all it revealed. Her legs, which had curved underneath her as she’d knelt on the bed were bare, thin strips of cloth visible along her hips. Taking in her scantily clad form, it’d been a while before he’d noticed what she’d held in her hand. A pair of handcuffs had rested on Okoye’s palm, their shine reflecting the fading sun let in by the window’s open blinds. They hadn’t yet incorporated the use of toys in their sexual play, and this mere welcome had let him know he was in for quite the evening.

His excitement had doubled with the discovery of her other purchases, and, now, slipping a second finger into her greedy back entrance, Attuma was on cloud nine. He’d poured more lubricant onto his hand, unwilling to harm her in anyway, and twisted them as he pushed and pulled the digits from inside her. Okoye’s answering moans were lyrical treats he gorged himself on while he envisioned replacing his fingers with his cock, fucking her tight passage until she screamed his name.

However, that fantasy was for another time. Tonight, Okoye had requested that both her holes be filled, and her desires always took priority, especially in the bedroom. Positioning, the butt plug nearer to him on the bed, he dribbled the lube over its surface then used his free hand to more evenly coat it.

“My love, I will place the toy inside you now,” he warned, kissing the cleft of her ass.

He gently pulled his fingers free, savoring the mournful sound she made for he too grieved the loss of her snug warmth around his fingers. Placing the slickened toy at her opening, he nudged it in—staring, transfixed, as it was engulfed by her body. The pink rose at its end looked darling against her skin.

Attuma knew he needed to cleanse his hands before proceeding with the second half of her request, but was unable to tear himself away. His gaze locked on the sight of her anus quivering about the toy, the muscles contracting and relaxing, until he was compelled to taste. He licked around the toy’s edge and inhaled her scent, pleased as she begged him to fuck her.

[vintage-marina]

A woman out of time ( James Norrington x F!reader) Chapter 1

Marvel crossover pirates of the caribbean

TW: blood, gore, aliens, violence and durther in the story depressing thoughts and suicidal thoughts

A few weeks ago i had the idea to write a reader fic with a crossover of marvel and pirates of the carabbean, yep the most random idea that i had

summary: After y/n got a call that they can bring the half of the population back, she takes the chance and goes to the compound, but when she wants to go back to New York 2013 she finds herself on the middle of a ship. I think i’m gonna ship her with James Norrington tho.

btw you can also read it on wattpad, my name is mischief-moony

word count: 1973 words

Wakanda 2018

Before everything went down

You heard footsteps outside your house that signaled that a few people were nearby, you threw your book on the floor and stepped outside and when you did you saw Bucky. King T'Challa, Okoye, and a few soldiers were walking to your cabins. You saw that one of the soldiers were holding a suitcase and dread filled you up, something is happening. Bucky and you were walking to them in a silence that neither of you wanted to break and you saw that in the suit laid his arm.

 ''Where is the fight?'' mumbeled Bucky after he glanced at his vibranium arm, he didn't look happy to use it again. In fact he probably thought about the time when he did not had a choice, but to use it. You glanced down, you wern't scared to fight, if you have to then you have to. But not knowing who to fight was frightening to you.

You and Bucky got taken to the weaponry room, you glanced into the mirror and moved your (right/left) arm, this arm felt new. Not a bad new, but a good new, a chance at staring a new life and maybe now you will never get it. You grimaced and didn't want to think about it anymore, ''Buck, do you know what's happening?'' ''No, but it has something to do with Steve. It always has.'' ''Fair enough,'' the both of you chuckled for a few seconds and after that you composed yourself, your expression serious. You took a taser, two handpistols and a few knifes and buckeld it on your belt, somehow it felt it wasn't enough and you took a bomb. The medpack on your back did not felt heavy and you saw that Bucky took a M249 SAW. ''And you think that firearm will be enough? You know, it is pretty serious if Wakanda need the help of two oldies'' you pointed to him with a knife, he grumbled but to your happiness he took a handpistol. After this Okoye walked to the both of you and explained what was happening.

Meeting your best pals Steve, Natasha and ofcourse your other colleagues

Bucky and you went outside and you saw that Steve, Natasha, Sam, Wanda, Vision, Rhodey and Bruce? Is he not missing? were walking out of the quinjet, King T'Challa was walking with them and lead them to you two. You heard T'Challa asking how big the assault is, Bruce answered that they shoud expect a big one and Natasha asked how big their army is. ''You will have my Kingsguard, the Border Tribe, the Dora Milaje and..'' ''And a semi-stable 100-year old man'' ''And a mentally unstable 100-year old woman'' Bucky and you flashed a smile towards them and you flew into Natasha her arms while Bucky hugged Steve. Afterwards you gave a bone crushing hug to Steve and you whispered that you missed him.

During the battle

Everyone stood behind the border that protected Wakanda and you saw that aliens were running toward you, they looked like a mix between a dog and a rat and you didn't expect this shit, yes you were scared at this point. Next to you stood Bucky, Steve and Natasha, "What the hell" mumbeled Bucky and if you weren't in a life threathing situation, you would have laughed but now, now not. Some of these aliens were breaking through the border but were killing themselves, but some of them were making it through, the Wakandan army were making shields with their clothing and were shooting lasers out of their vibranium spears. Bucky, you and Natasha were shooting while Sam and Rhodey were in the sky. Bruce was in the Hulkbuster and stood behind you and the army.  Rhodey flew to the border and you saw that a few bombs were dropping that created a massive chain reaction, you could hear the screams of the aliens that were dying but you could see that the dogs behind the border were going to Vision and were he was laying there was no border, shit he is gonna be in danger. But Bruce beat you to it, before you could say anthing.

''Cap if these things circle the perimeter and get in behind us, there's nothing between them and Vision'' ''Then we better keep 'em in front of us.'' ''How do we do that?'' asked Okoye to T'Challa and you saw that the was thinking. ''We open the barrier. On my signal, open North-West Section Seventeen'' he shouted somthing in Xhosa, you saw that Steve was activating his shield and that T'Challa's army were dropping their shields. You were moving your shoulders and stood in position, ready to kill a bunch of aliens. This was unlike what you saw in the war or what you did in the war but you knew that you should give your everything. The border that protected you was dissolving and you heard T'Challa shouting: ''Wakanda forever!''

You were running and so did everyone else, your heartrate went up and you took the blades out of your belt, Steve and T'Challa ran ahead but you and Bucky ran with the army. The first few aliens were running to you and you threw your knife in their eye and slid on the ground while you were gliding on the grass, you plunged your knife in another one's belly and cutted him open. It screamed and before you knew it it was dead, but the other alien was not. You took your knife out of the carcas and threw it in the head of the other alien. You plucked your two blades out of it's head and it's eye and hastily you stood up and scanned your surroundings.

But you didn't had much time, three other aliens were attacking your back that send you flying to the ground, you let out a yelp. Their claws were dangerously close to your face and something snapped in your head. Your mind went on autopilot and you teared an arm off and you gave it a kick to it's belly. You drew your pistol and sent a bullet to the other two aliens their  heart and head. You could feel on your back that you had been scratched but you shook it off and went further.

The minutes flew by and you couldn't even remember what you were doing to them, you saw that Okoye needed a little bit of help and you gave her back cover. ''Are you okay?'' she asked while the two of you circeled around the aliens, you hummed but it didn't reassured her. ''I don't think we are going to win it'' you said, she didn't gave a response but instead killed an alien. You heard someone talking to you in your ear, ''I can't hear you, speak louder'' you commanded and slammed an alien to the ground. ''Y/N, someone needs medical help, I will sent you the coördinates come fast!'' you heard Natasha talking to you and you bid Okoye farwell and you cleared your way between the aliens and the people. 

When you arrived you saw that Nathasha gave pressure on the wound of a soldier, ''Nat you need to give me cover while I treat her alright?'' You saw that she was from the Dora Milaje, you took off your medpack and opened it quickly and kneeled down. Adreneline rushed to your body and you took a bottle of water out of the pack and rinshed the wound. ''How did it happen?'' you asked to her, in the hope she didn't pass out. ''I got clawed, but I will survive'' she mumbeled, you softly talked to her while you disinfected the wound. You sliced the plastic of a sterile towel of and depped the wound clean, there was blood on your hands and you smeared it off on your suit. Natasha was shooting some aliens and said to you that you needed to hurry up. Your stress level went up a bit when she said that and you stichted the soldeir up and covered the wound incase if it went bleeding again. ''Nat, you can go, I will protect her'' after you said that she went away and you stood your ground and eyed your surroundings.

You didn't knew how much time had passed, hope was slowely running out of your system and you were certain that you were losing. Aliens were around you and you felt desperate, you did your best to protect her and sometimes you got help from someone else, it wasn't easy to check on her and to kill aliens but you managed. Suddenly an axe went flying around and killed some aliens around you. What the hell is happening you thought to yourself, not that you were ungrateful, you were very grateful but you didn't know who it was, until something suddenly clicked in your brain, Thor. 

After Thor joined the fight with a raccoon with a gun and a walking tree? You thought you could finally win this battle and have a good nap after this, but alas you were wrong, very wrong. A few meters further you saw that Steve was protecting Vision and Wanda. You turned around and asked in Xhosa if she need any further medical assistence or that she would manage it. The soldier sent you away and you joined Steve, you didn't expect the guy who is supposed to be the most evil person in the universe purple but you also saw a man with red skin and without a nose when you served the army so it didn 't really surprise you. More people joined the fight and when you threw your bomb and fire your last bullets, Thanos raised his fist towards it and reversed the time so it couldn't explode, then he aimed at you and fired the bomb back. ''Shit'' you mumbled, you flew across the air and yelled in pain. A few splinters from the bomb scratched your face and neck, you could fell blood prickle on your skin from the splinters that were stuck in your body. Your ears were ringing and you shut your eyes tight from the bright light, sniffing the air you could smell burning flesh and you softly cried, you didn't want to see the aftermath of what happend to you. Some people were yelling, but black dots were clouding your eyes and with your tears you couldn't see well. How can he do this, what did we do to deserve this, the more you thinked the more your head hurted, maybe a little rest wouldn't hurt and with that on your mind you blacked out.

 When you opened your E/C eyes you whimpered in pain, signaling to the remaining people that you were awake. You saw Steve in your field of vision and you could see that his eyes were red. You lifted your arm and cradled his face with your vibranium arm, you furrowed your eyebrows and wiped a few tears away. ''You've been crying, Stevie'' a nickname that he only heard from you when you were concerned about him. ''What happend?'' you whispered softly after you gave him a reassuring smile, he didn't meet your eyes but looked to the left of you. You turned your head, but you wished you hadn't, your eyes met the blank stare of Vision and you let out a startling scream. Terror was running through your veins and tears of dispair were filling your eyes and falling on your cheeks. You reached out your arm towards him but you only could feel the cold of his vibranium body and if you looked better you could see the pile of ashes that laid besides him. Your arm fell to the ground and you sniffed, ''What happened here Steve?''

[redgillan]

Under Pastel Skies - 3

Sugar daddy!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Modern!AU Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.

Word Count: 2,587

Warnings: none

A/N: I wanted to give Reader a family and this is the easiest way to do it. Btw Peggy’s husband isn’t Steve, I have other plans for him ;) Enjoy!

Wannabe sugar daddies don’t interact, idc if you have money, eat it and leave me be.

The rest of the week went by, and you kept hoping Bucky would come back. You hadn’t seen him since he’d left 300 dollars under his napkin after visiting you at work. You had tucked the bills into your bra, knowing they would be safe there, and walked home at the end of your shift.

Now it was Thursday afternoon and you were craving a day off.

Natasha’s apartment was spacious and the oversized glass window bathed the living room in natural sunlight. The apartment was a gift from Sam. Obviously.

You dropped your purse on the sofa –your bed- and laid out the bills on the coffee table. It was made of marble and brass, another gift from Sam.

You didn’t know what to do with the money, so you took it wherever you went, to keep it safe. You wanted to return it to Bucky. It was too much and you weren’t used to random acts of kindness.

You sunk into the cushion and blew out a sigh as you stared at the money. The persistent vibration of your phone against your thigh pulled you out of your thoughts. Half expecting it to be Natasha, you answered without looking at the caller ID.

The operator told you that Scott Lang was calling from Saint Quentin State Prison, and asked if you would accept the charges. You agreed. You always agreed.

“Splotchy, I need your help.”

Closing your eyes, you let your head fall back against the cushion. “I told you to stop calling me that, Scott.”

It was a silly nickname.

As a child, your mother dubbed you splotchy because of the colourful doodles you painted on the living room walls, and your siblings, who were roughly a few years older than you, had loved using that nickname. Especially since they knew you disliked it.

Their support and endless enthusiasm played a big part in your artistic journey, nurturing that spark into a flame. What started out as a childlike fascination with colours and shapes became your whole life. No one was surprised when you decided to pursue a degree in fine arts.

After the death of her husband, Peggy Carter adopted five children; a little boy from San Francisco, a little girl from Wakanda, twins from Sokovia and a little girl whose birth parents were still in high school. You were the last one, the only one she adopted as a baby.

“Is it offensive to call an artist splotchy?”

“It’s irrelevant. I haven’t painted in months,” you replied. “And we’re not kids anymore, you can use my name.”

“I’ve been calling you Splotchy for so long, I forgot your actual name.”

“You’re so funny,” you deadpanned. “What do you need, Scott?”

Scott’s tone changed suddenly, his voice grew agitated. “I need you to call Maggie. She isn’t picking up when I call her.”

“Scott,” you sighed.

“I haven’t talked to Cassie since her birthday,” he cut you off, pleading. “Please, I just want to talk to my little girl.”

Maggie was Scott’s ex-wife. Six months after his incarceration, she had filed for divorce. Natasha thought it was a real dick move but you didn’t blame Maggie. She was alone, her husband was in jail –for basically being a dumbass although the official charge was embezzlement and destruction of property- and she had a kid to raise.

Maggie wasn’t a saint but she was a good mother, and Cassie was a smart and healthy kid. Now you knew what to do with Bucky’s money.

“I’ll call her,” you said. “Listen, I’m going to put 50 bucks on your book. Buy yourself a bar of soap, I can smell you from here.” Scott interrupted you with a monotone ‘har har’. You chuckled. “I’ll buy Cassie a Christmas gift on your behalf, all right? I think she wanted a bike.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you,” he chanted over the phone, his voice muffled as if he was holding the receiver too close to his mouth. “Are you sure you can afford it? I know it isn’t easy for you. Between living in New York and paying for mom’s nursing home, you don’t have to-”

“It’s fine,” you said, cutting off the conversation. “I’m not alone, Okoye helps.”

“And Wanda?”

“She sends postcards from time to time.”

The line went quiet for a moment. “I want to get out of here so bad,” Scott groaned. “Everything’s gone to shit since I went to jail.”

“Everything’s gone to shit since Pietro died, Scott.” You both remained silent, remembering your late brother. Just thinking about him made your eyes start to prickle with tears, so you cleared your throat and ended the call. “I’ll talk to Maggie. You’ll be out soon, just... stay out of trouble. Love you.”

You left your phone on the table and kicked off your shoes before you lay down on the sofa for a well-deserved nap. In your dreams your brothers weren’t either dead or in prison, your mother hadn’t been diagnosed with Alzheimer, and you weren’t a burden to your friend.

If you were lucky enough, you wouldn’t even dream at all.

The next day, Bucky arrived at the hotel at six thirty and you playfully glared at him from across the lounge. He wasn’t stupid, he knew why you were glaring at him. At least he had the decency to look a little sheepish.

“Just so you know, you bought yourself about 30 breakfasts,” you told him, referring to the far-too-generous tip he had left the other day.

“A man’s gotta eat,” he replied with a boyish cockiness that made him look stupidly attractive. You were too flustered to find a good comeback.

You brought him his cup of coffee and let him enjoy his breakfast while you attended to your other clients. It was an unusually busy day, the room was packed with families who were getting ready to explore Manhattan. You didn’t have time to chat with Bucky and he didn’t stay long. You saw him flinch a couple of times; the muscles in his shoulders pulled tight and his eyes darting left and right.

He left another ridiculously generous tip, along with a handwritten note. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day x.

Bucky came back the following week, and even though it was a quiet morning, you made sure to find him a table in a secluded spot. He didn’t notice when you slipped the 300 dollars into the pocket of his coat. You could be pretty sneaky, too.

“Mmmh,” he said, wiping his mouth with a napkin, “I looked at your Instagram.”

“Oh,” you glanced at your shoes, embarrassed. “Wait, you’re on Instagram? I have a hard time imagining you scrolling through your feed.”

He laughed a little. “I’ll admit I’m not as tech savvy as you youngsters, but I’m not a fossil. I use it to look at the pictures my sister post of my niblings.”

“Cute,” you grinned.

“Anyway,” he said, pushing a hand through his hair. “I love your work. It’s very unique; a cross between Impressionism and Post-impressionism. It’s realistic, and yet there’s something different...” his face scrunched up as he tried to look for the right word. “There’s something in your paintings, something that isn’t here in real life but perhaps should be. It’s hard to explain. It’s a feeling, a color, a pattern; it’s indiscernible but it’s there.” He looked up at you, his cheeks red with embarrassment. “I’m not making much sense, am I?”

You blinked, suddenly stunned that someone had such strong opinions about your work. There was nothing but sincerity in his ocean-blue eyes, and for a moment, you were at a loss for words.

“I, um-” you cleared your throat, “Thank you, I didn’t know that. I look up to Monet, obviously. His work is phenomenal, and I also have a soft spot for Van Gogh.” You ran a hand across your face. “Sorry, I’m a little emotional. The people who compliment my art are usually my siblings, and Nat.”

“And now me,” he said with a warm smile. “And soon a lot more people.”

Flustered, you bit your bottom lip. “That would be nice.”

Bucky nodded. He gathered his silverware and set them on his plate, trying to buy time. You watched him hesitate before he turned to you. “I noticed that your last post was from almost a year ago.”

“Yeah,” you said with a casual shrug. “I don’t really paint anymore. I’m too tired when I get home and supplies are expensive.”

“Of course,” he pursed his lips in thought. “Are you free this afternoon? I was wondering if we could meet for coffee.”

You tried not to show your surprise but his words made the sleeping butterflies in your stomach crack an eye open, their interest piqued.

Was he asking you out? He’d come to your workplace every week since your brief ‘date’. He always gave you more-than-generous tips, and he listened to you with a combination of close attention and warmth that made you weak at the knees.

He’d made it clear he wasn’t looking for anyone but maybe he had changed his mind. Agh, down girl! He just wanted a friend.

You looked into his beautiful eyes, seeing a myriad of expressions cross his face before he smiled at you.

“I ain’t gonna hurt you, angel.”

It was an honest lie, just hearing him call you angel felt like a punch to the stomach. The butterflies were dancing around, reborn, and chanting the word ‘date’.

“If you don’t like coffee, we can have tea, or ice cream,” he said, “anything as long as you can sit down with me.”

You snorted. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he repeated, smiling. “This is my number. Pick a place and I’ll meet you there.”

After breakfast, you closed the restaurant and started cleaning the Lounge. You brought everything back to the kitchen, stacked the dishes in the dishwasher and turned it on. Then you put away the unopened miniature jams, butter and whatnot, and gathered the remaining patisseries and fresh fruits in a basket that you would later bring to the reception.

You worked mechanically. It wasn’t exactly the most exciting job you’d ever had.

You couldn’t stop thinking about Bucky. It was easy to let your mind wander into the cosy and dangerous territory of this being a real date.

You decided to go to the Australian coffee shop near Natasha’s apartment. It was popular but not as crowded as Starbucks, which suited you fine.

After your shift, you removed your uniform and changed into the spare set of clothes you kept in your locker for emergencies. Emergencies being an impromptu date or a night out with Nat. You dug around in your purse for your lipstick; the nice one, the Carter Red as your mother called it.

You dabbed the lipstick on your lips, staining them. You only wore it on special occasions, and you weren’t sure Bucky deserved your full red pout.

You walked to the café with a little pep in your step and a confident smile on your face. The freezing temperature didn’t matter, you were too giddy to care. It was a date, it had to be, why else would he ask you to meet for coffee?  

You smiled when you saw him through the coffee shop window. He was chatting with the waiter as the latter set two mugs on the table.

“Hi again!” You shrugged out of your jacket and took a seat.

“I hope you like hot chocolate. Carl, here, says it’s their best seller,” Bucky said, smiling kindly at the waiter.

“Enjoy, and if you need anything else don’t hesitate to call me.”

You carefully wrapped your cold hands around your mug while you watched Carl walk away. A moment of silence rose between you. Bucky watched you with an unreadable expression, making you fidget in your seat.

“I’m glad you came,” he finally said.

“Me too. I’m a little surprised you asked.”

He looked down at his mug and smiled; it didn’t reach his eyes. “I have something to ask you.” He paused. “The night we met, you said you agreed to see me because being in a... financial relationship felt like the only solution to your problems.”

 Your smile faltered but he didn’t seem to notice. Oh. The butterflies in your stomach fell so suddenly that it felt like carrying a ball of lead. They went back into hibernation.  

“If I had been a decent person and, I don’t know, bought you a drink, talked to you,” he paused, meeting your eyes. “Would you have been interested in this type of relationship? With me, I mean.”

You swallowed hard. “You want to be my sugar daddy.”

It wasn’t a question but a statement. You were slowly realizing that you had been wrong about his intentions. This wasn’t a date, it was a business afternoon tea.

He winced. “Do we really have to call it that? I was thinking mentorship. I can provide financial help, and in exchange you could be my friend.”

“I can be your friend for free,” you said, your throat tightening.

He shrugged, a small smile on his lips. “This way we’ll both get something out of it.”

You looked down at your hands, still wrapped around the mug, and pursed your lips in thought. You felt a sharp tingling sensation in your nose, a sign that you were about to cry. You closed your eyes and clenched your jaw, fighting against the flood that was coming.

You pushed all the emotion down and forced a smile to your face. “Do you mind if I use the restroom? I just took the subway, I’d like to wash my hands.”

Bucky watched you, momentarily stunned by your request. “Of course, take your time,” he quickly recovered.

“Thanks,” you croaked, pushing your chair back.

You picked up your bag and walked to the restroom, your legs feeling like cotton wool. You didn’t need to use the restroom, you had walked to the café, but you needed a moment alone to collect yourself.

A woman came out of the restroom, holding the door open for you. You picked up the pace and thanked her before closing the door behind you. You looked pretty sickly under the artificial light of the restroom. Your eyes were glassy with tears and your red lips were taunting you.

“Got your hopes up, uh?” You watched your lips move. A little humourless chuckle escaped you and you shook your head at your own idiocy.

You aggressively wiped the lipstick off your mouth with the back of your hand and sighed deeply as you looked at your reflection in the mirror. Now you felt like an idiot.

It wasn’t Bucky’s fault. He had been nothing but nice and kind, and perhaps you had mistaken his kindness for flirting. A naïve mistake. You had always been a little clueless when it came to men.

You ran your index fingers under your eyes to get rid of the makeup that had gathered there. It wasn’t the end of the world, you barely knew him anyway. It didn’t hurt any less, though.

Maybe it was time for you to do something out of character, to experience life no matter how crazy it seemed. You were dreading this conversation with Bucky, but you couldn’t hide in the restroom forever. With another sigh, you pushed yourself away from the sink and walked out of the restroom.

Part 4

[bates--boy]

Peter wasn't going to fool himself into thinking this was a good idea, especially an idea that went against the beliefs about marriage or romantic partnership he held since he was a church-reared, romance-novel-consuming little boy. That belief rooted in monogamy. But it still felt right in those moments when Naseem teased him in all the right ways that made him see stars, or brought him back to earth with his tenderness. When Naseem drove common sense out of Peter's head with those divine eyes, it was easy for Peter to convince himself that "feeling right", especially with people he trusted, was all he needed.

           But he wasn't straddling Naseem's lap or curled up in Naseem's arms this time; he wasn't being unraveled thread by thread under Naseem's demanding tongue and teeth and fingertips, teased and toyed with until he didn't even know the concept of inhibitions and guilt anymore.

          He was seated properly and respectfully on the Okoye's sofa, feeling so much like a junior high schooler waiting for his date to his first ever prom, instead of a fully grown man (pushing eighty, to be exact) here to... negotiate the terms of a polyamorous marriage. Yes, that was the energy going on here: a business deal. Naseem sitting to his right, back straight but shoulders relaxed, with his arms crossed loosely. Ashira sitting to his left, also back straight but legs crossed and hands folded over her knees -- her presence the neutralizing factor in this meeting, her manner so... pragmatic. And nothing served better to sober up a man hungry for adventure and physical touch than pragmatism.

          That wasn't to say that Ashira was unattractive and cold. Since Peter was basically given permission to look at Naseem's wife, Peter looked. He was not going to feel shame for somewhat openly appreciating the softness of Ashira's thighs, which he could tell through the leggings she wore, her hourglass waist that tempted Peter to agree to this deal just so he'd be able to wrap his arms around her and feel how well they’d fit together, and that slender neck with the glowing skin that Peter wanted to mark with his lips and teeth just as Naseem did to his so many times. It was her no-nonsense, businesslike smile that curbed the feeling that Peter was a kid in a toy store, reminding him that they were talking about...

          Holy shit, their now open marriage. That they want Peter to join in.

          “I imagine that you have a lot of questions about this,” Ashira started them off, watching the way Peter picked at the ends of his braided ponytail that he had draped over his shoulder despite the way he also tried to sit up straight and confident.

          Yes, Peter did have a lot of questions about this, and he was so glad for this atmosphere that let his head stay clear so he could think of at least a few of them. He reached for the cup of tea sitting on the table in front of them, part of the lunch Ashira insisted on making since Naseem was skipping his lunch break for this and the kids’ naps freed up Ashira’s time. She even made the tamriyeh that Peter was starving for, after Tommy the greedy bastard ate the last batch yesterday.

          He peered into the translucent reddish tea, swirling the tea leaves and letting them fall back into the bottom. “Yeah. I would like to know how this is going to work?”

          Ashira shrugged. “From our understanding of it, it would work like any other romantic partnership.. with maybe some boundaries. Like, obviously the legal boundaries.”

          Like a joint bank account or sharing in bills, or making medical decisions for their comatose partner -- Peter figured as much. He nodded. “So... what would it look like for us? What is it going to be like?”

          “We can’t predict the future, sweets,” Naseem said, reaching over to rub Peter’s knee. “But right now, we feel that it’s going to just be the three of us.”

          “And we’ll have to figure out what’s working and not working along the way,” Ashira said, her eyes darting to Naseem’s hand and back up to Peter’s eyes.

          Peter nodded again, taking a sip of his tea and trying desperately to cool the burning on his cheeks when Ashira placed her hand on his back and caressed it up and down. Calm, cool, collected, businesslike meeting. He forced himself to remember that and ignore the electricity that zipped up and down his spine. He lowered the cup. He wondered if the next question should be brought up at all, considering this was possibly a boundary already drawn and he had no legal right over this aspect. Still, concern won over reservations and he asked, “...And the kids? Do you think they’ll be affected by this?”

          “’Course they will be!” Naseem patted his knee jovially. Seeing the tight-lipped frown on Peter’s face, Naseem added, “But it wouldn’t be that much different than before. It’ll just be Uncle Peter coming around more, spending the night because he’s part of the family instead of pulling writing all-nighters. Hell, you’d just become their second dad.”

          “I wouldn’t go so far as to say that,” Ashira cut in quickly as she looked over Peter’s shoulder at her husband. “But... I will agree that you would probably be closer to the kids, and around more. Which is good, because Pakiza misses you like crazy whenever you leave.”

          Parenthood. Semi-parenthood. An uncle with an overnight bag. Or closet space in the master bedroom. Peter could imagine it: buying birthday gifts, staying long enough to read them bedtime stories instead of immediately slinking off home when babysitting duties were done. Sitting at their bedsides and administering cough syrup and cold compresses when the darlings were sick. Picking them up from school whenever Ashira and Naseem were too busy to come by. Peter’s face flushed anew with these beautiful possibilities, these beautiful scenes of partial domesticity that would have brought tears to his eyes if he weren’t fighting like hell to keep his emotions in check.

          “Well, I do miss her like crazy, too,” Peter said after clearing his throat. “How will we, ah... divide the time or attention, or...” he gestured with one hand, hoping that they understood his question in a way that didn’t sound like a custody agreement.

        “That’s also something that we’ll have to work on overtime,” Naseem replied. “It’ll depend on what we’re in the mood for or how open all of our schedules are. But know this...” Naseem leaned in, gingerly rubbing his face in Peter’s neck and kissing that damn sensitive spot underneath Peter’s ear. “We’re gonna woo you like crazy.”

        Ashira snorted. “And we expect you to do the same.”

        Of course, Peter had almost said before backtracking, remembering that he hadn’t even said yes, yet. He waited until Naseem lifted his head away to breathe. “...Right. Okay. Basically, everything is left to fate.”

        “Basically,” Ashira said. “Is there anything else you’d like to know?”

        Plenty. It was getting hard to find any questions to ask in the fog Naseem kept conjuring with his displays of affection, but there was one that stood clear and true no matter what, one that had tightened Peter’s throat just thinking about it: Why me? Naseem gave his reason when Peter asked a similar question in the kitchen, when Peter was so terrified for the marital welfare of his friends that he physically quaked with illness. At first, Peter had wanted to ask so he would get an answer without all of that waxing poetic or whimsical flights of fancy, like collecting answers for a survey. But now, after thinking about the question and having it sit right on his lip, he realized that he didn’t want to ask it at all.

        Asking it would mean asking himself what answers he was looking for, and he truly didn’t know what he was looking for. Asking the question would mean that he was feeding his fear of abandonment, readying himself to put some distance between himself and these two in place if he found even one sign of shit going south, an absolutely terrible way to begin a romantic relationship.

        And honestly: why did he even need to ask at all? Why can’t it be that these two beautiful, intelligent, supportive, well-read, sexy big dreamers who opened their home to him are into him simply because they are?

        Peter stopped his thumb from rubbing along the lip of the teacup, glad that he had caught himself in the act before breaking the fine glass, and set it on the table. He shook his head. “I, ah, I think that would be all...”

        “Great.” Ashira stopped her hand in the middle of Peter’s back, angling her head inquisitively. “So, what do you think? Would you like to try this out with us?”

        “Er, I...”

        Yes, because their touch drove him crazy, and when something made him feel alive, he knew it was the right thing for him. Yes, because it meant he would have a second home. Yes, because he could play second father to Pakiza and Hasan even with all of the other avenues of fatherhood was closed to him. Yes, because he trusted these two. Yes yes yes, because even in this most unconventional of ways, this was everything Peter could have ever asked for.

        Except...

        “I... need more time to think about it,” Peter said, kicking himself for still looking a gift horse in the mouth. But he knew he needed more time, anyway, to really think this through before he took any leaps.

        The corner of Ashira’s lip quirked up. Her hand, so soft and artistically shaped, moved from his back to his knee to give it a gentle pat. “It’s okay, Pete, take all the time you need. There’s no rush.” She craned her neck to peer into the hallway. “I’m going to check on Hasan. But first, I have to ask...”

        She looked at Peter. “Do you mind if I...?”

        Peter could see it in the swift change of her eyes, feel it in the way her hand glided firmly up his knee to his thigh, crawling up his stomach to his chest.

        He was going to say no. Not because he sincerely did not want to (and Christ, did he want to; Sheer’s rocking cherry-flavored lip gloss that he could smell from where he sat and he wanted her tongue down his throat now), but because if Peter was going to think through this decision with a leveled head, he needed to do this without his libido constantly pushed to one-hundred-twenty. But she already had her fingers hooked on his collar and she was already tugging him slowly toward her, and Peter had to reason with himself that he might as well. He had already let her husband kiss him. And hold him. And caress him. And grope him. And dry hump him. And nearly give him a blow job.

        Of course, Sheer and Nazz would kiss differently. Peter was only surprised that Sheer would kiss in this way.

        Like Naseem, Ashira began chastely, sensing how easily high strung Peter would become if the sparks flew too soon. But then, she demanded. She pried Peter’s mouth open wider, coming right in when Peter gasped. And even in her demanding way, she was careful and methodical, examining every bit of space that she claimed, as well as examining the way Peter’s tongue and mouth and teeth moved, and she moved her tongue in a way that Peter had a word for but he couldn’t think of because his head was crackling with electricity, and he fucking loved how demanding she is and her hand was sliding back down -- directing.

        She was directing him, instructing him. She was pushing his tongue up the roof of her mouth and coaxing it back and forth along the gentle ridges; she was nipping at his bottom lip and then bringing her lip up to his upper teeth, expecting him to do it the same way with the same intensity. She was keeping their lips locked to the point of breathlessness, until finally, finally, he did everything right and she finally moaned.

        It was soft and low, muffled by his tongue and lips, but his mouth filled with cherry and jasmine tea with two sugars, and a tempting offer he couldn’t refuse. He knew he hit all the marks Ashira wanted in this one long kiss because he felt her digging her nails into his thigh, so very close to the sweet spot.

        They pulled apart, and Peter knew he had to get away quickly because with the heat in Ashira’s eyes and he cheeks, he was tempted to do everything she wanted.

        “...Alright,” Ashira said. She stood, straightened her clothing, and walked past the men to get to the hall. She called over her shoulder as she went, “I’ll be back and we can finish lunch.”

[afewmarvelousthoughts]

My Only Comfort

Master List: @afewmarvelousthoughtsadmin​

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Summary: Periods can suck. Supportive partners, less so.  (This is in the “Only For A Moment” universe but can be read as a one shot.)

Warnings: None just FLUFF

A/N: This is purely self service. Idk if anyone will even care to read this. BUT my period had been brutalizing me for days and I just wanted to write a quick little fluffy bit to make myself feel better. Maybe you need it too! 

It’s funny how easy it is to forget the little things over the years. Like how you loved the cherry blossoms in Brooklyn. Or how costume storage often smelled like mothballs and vodka. Or how much being on your period absolutely sucked. 

When you had your first full medical exam in Wakanda and they asked when your last cycle had been you honestly couldn’t say. It wasn’t something you spared much thought to. Until then you hadn’t even thought much about birth control or any other form of contraception. For a moment you’d felt a little surge of panic. 

Turned out you were worried over nothing, at least as far as getting knocked up went. 

You almost laughed when they found that Hydra had sterilized you. For years you’d fought to get your tubes tied or any other kind of permanent birth control - the last thing you needed or wanted was to bring a kid into the world - only to be constantly denied due to your age. For once, Hydra had done something you’d actually appreciated. 

Your lack of a menstrual cycle could be pretty easily chalked up to them likely controlling it with hormones when they had you and the time after to constant stress. No big deal. 

Except, being in Wakanda had taken away a massive load of that stress. No longer were you afraid to be found daily, living a false life, always ready for the next fight. Now, you were rebuilding your life, both of you were. It was almost a dream. 

Until your uterus made you dream of being stressed enough to shut her up again. 

Your first period had been pretty light, nothing to really complain about. This one though… Maybe Hydra had actually replaced your uterus with a tiny angry monster that was going to claw its way from your body Alien style. 

Around 3 a.m. you wake, your entire lower body screaming literal bloody murder. 

Slithering from the bed you’ve only one thought on your mind - hot, steaming, scalding water. Quickly you rid yourself of your wrecked underwear and turn on the shower. Leaning your head against the tile wall you let the water pound against your throbbing back, silently praying your body will stop this mutiny so you can get some sleep. 

 Tomorrow was a full day with classes and drills with the Dora Milaje, none of which you wanted to miss. There wasn’t time for this bullshit. 

Sighing you open your eyes, turning to face the water and catch a figure outside the steam covered shower glass. Logically, you know it’s Bucky but your tired foggy brain still sends a startled gasp tumbling out of your mouth. Some warrior you were. 

“Holy shit, Buck!” You exclaim, opening the door enough to see him. 

“Sorry!” He holds his hand up, face looking a little pale. “There was blood and - I just, I didn’t think.” 

Guilt and just the slightest bit of embarrassment flood you. In the grip of the pain, you hadn’t even thought to check the bed. Of course, his mind would go to the darkest option first upon seeing blood. 

“No, it’s ok.” You move to turn off the water, “I’ll deal with it. Sorry.” His hand stops yours. When you look back that kind smile is on his lips, it always sucked your breath right from your chest. 

“There’s nothing for you to deal with. Take your time.” He must read the defiance in your expression. “If you’re not in this shower for at least 10 more minutes I’m dragging you back into it myself.” 

“That sounds like a challenge,” you quip before a stab of pain makes you groan. He kisses your knuckles and leaves you to the steamy room. 

When you finally turn off the water, a little pruney but feeling a bit better you find one of Bucky’s shirts and a fresh pair of underwear on the counter. This man. Toweling your hair you step out to thank him only to see him remaking the bed with fresh sheets. 

“Babe,” you protest, “you didn’t have to-”

“Hush.” He gestures to a steaming mug on your bedside table. “It’s the tea Okoye gave me, the relaxing one.” Before you can say anything he reads your mind, “I know you hate tea but drink it anyway.”

“Just hot leaf juice,” you grumble with a smile on your face as you lift the mug to your nose to smell the contents. Earthy and slightly floral. 

“Coffee is technically hot bean juice,” he says, putting a pillow back in its case. 

“Blasphemy! I demand a divorce.”

He rolls his eyes, “Maybe when the sun’s out. Get in bed.”

“But my hot leaf juice,” you say in a false whine. He settles his back against the padded headboard, arm held out. 

“You can bring your leaf juice, just come here.” 

With a sigh, you crawl into bed. Bucky holds you tight, your back to his chest. You sip your tea, begrudgingly admitting that it wasn’t the worst and seemed to be coaxing your tense muscles into submission. 

“Thank you for changing the sheets,” you say, voice groggy. 

“Of course, doll. Anything else I can do?” You shake your head, tucked under his chin. “Here,” he plucks the half-empty mug from your hands, setting it on his nightstand. 

He scootches you both down into the warm fresh bed. Your head rests on his chest and unerringly your right-hand finds it’s way over to the steady beat of his heart, the feeling of its rhythm under your palm always soothing. 

Before you drift off you hear him whisper, “Sleep well, sweetheart.” 

Your alarm is an unholy sound scant hours later. 

“Not yet,” you grumble - hand flopping to turn it off. 

“Not at all,” Bucky says, his own voice still thick with sleep. 

“I have to-”

“You ‘aveta’ nothin’,” a bit of that long lost accent slips out. Even in your exhausted state, it makes you smile. “You need to rest.”

“Bucky,” you sit up, “it’s a period, not the flu I will be-”

“Staying home. Glad we agree.” He hooks his arm around you tugging you to him.

“I need to at least let Okoye know-”

“I told her last night. Now. Sleep.” 

You do. Hard and deep. When you awake it’s to the familiar smell of bacon and the sound of Bucky, singing softly along to the Beetles in the kitchen - the words to “Hey Jude” clear.

The only dark spot on the otherwise perfect moment was the feeling that you were still being torn at from the inside. Quietly you swear that this is the last time - whatever you have to do you’ll do it to keep this beast at bay moving forward. 

Before going to the kitchen you fist one of Bucky’s flannel button-ups from the closet and slip it on over your tee. The familiar scent so soothing. 

“Morning gorgeous,” Bucky beams at you as you walk into the kitchen. 

“Haha,” you say. You’d seen yourself in the mirror. Shit was rough. 

Turning from his pan he catches you before you get your mug. His blue eyes glitter causing your heart skips several beats. When he kisses you he tastes like coffee and love and home. 

“You are always beautiful to me, Y/N.” 

You smile so big your cheeks hurt, “Sap.” Batting him away playfully you pour a mug of coffee. 

“Go on and have a seat,” he says pulling the bacon out. “The eggs’ll be quick.” 

You perch cross-legged at the little two-seater table, unable to hold back a contented sigh.

Eggs plated he brings the food to the table. Your heart swells, as it does any time he makes you breakfast, always reminding you of the first morning you spent together. 

“One more thing,” he heads back into the kitchen and pulls out something from the oven, covered in foil. 

“Pancakes?!” You stare in mouthwatering wonder. 

“Yup,” he says smugly, reaching into a cabinet to produce syrup. He tops off your coffee before settling down.

“I say we eat, take a nap, eat again, maybe watch something. I’ll cook dinner, and-”

“You’re going to cook dinner?” You ask, more than a little surprised. Bucky was pretty confident in the breakfast realm but dinner was a different thing. 

“I’ve been learning!” He protests. It was true, he often joined you in the kitchen, though he tended to be a bit frustrated by your inability to give clear instructions. His face softens as he reaches his hand across the table to stroke the back of your hand. 

“Let me take care of you.” It’s not a question. He’s learned that sometimes he has to match your stubborn self-sufficiency with his own immovable will. And for your part, you’re learning that it’s not so bad to let someone take the wheel from time to time. 

You smile and nod, surprisingly happy to let go and bask in the comfort of his care.

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