#wisdom loc

[ethereii]

in so many words, he’s had it rough. canon event go brr

i know it’s dark 😭 turning up brightness might help idk lolll

[xgatheringdust]

i support women's rights but more importantly, i support women's wrongs

[nirhvahnah]

curls and locs. 1 of 1.

[themysticbohemian]

[soulmatesinc-if]

A light-hearted interactive fiction game about soulmates, chances and choices, written in ChoiceScript.

|| PLAY HERE || [149k]

|| extra content ||

Here at Soulmates Inc we specialize in chance meetings!

Love happens.

It takes by the storm. It is lucky, it is cruel, it makes no sense, it elevates. It is beautiful, it rears its ugly head, then it is beautiful once again. Now that, humans can manage on their own.

Soulmate-grade connection is an entirely different brand. Enter you. That's your brand. It requires dedicated labor. Whimsical meetings. Nuance.

As a soul-link, you arrange for those destined matches to happen using the powers of glamor at your disposal. An ancient practice, really, though, as with everything, it has evolved and happily marched with the times. You work out of an office, have a phone plan, a lease, and a favorite restaurant. Your boss is not a half-naked man with a bow and arrows but a fashionably dressed man who goes to a gym and drives an electrical Mustang.

It is nice. Modern.

Just one rule. The only rule, in fact. A scripture, if you will: never interact with a soul directly.

Which is precisely why your most recent half-match staring at your confused face is so damn bad. Worse yet, they can see right through your glamor for some reason.

Now what?..

love is all around you but it does not have to be for you: play as aro, ace, bi, gay or straight. Your romantic prospects are three, but each has a story to tell

explore who you are: a firm and enthusiastic believer, a burned-out office worker, or a skeptical soul-link questioning their purpose

use and evolve your soul-link powers: Empathy and Shroud

keep up with your job duties and bring people together while trying to protect your employer from a greater looming threat

someone is throwing around heavy words like 'destiny', but dealing with existential questions is entirely optional!

Amber | Andrew Wyatt Once a high-performer soul-link, they flew too close to the sun and snooped around where one does not snoop around. Having fallen from grace at a company that believes in chances, Wyatt is back on probation, though under your supervision. The light is snuffed out of their eyes, and instead of being a firm believer, Wyatt now drips disillusioned pearls of what they think is wisdom.

A languid redhead who wears sunglasses more often than not.

Samuel | Samantha C. Powell Sam has a steady job, does weekly family visits and always parks the bike properly. How do you learn that? Sam is also your sparkling new charge, a common everyperson, a salt of the earth—nope, not that simple at all! You cannot seem to find their soulmate (never happens) and they can see through your glamor (never happens either). To be fair, Sam is freaked out by it, too.

Your sporty charge in a wrinkle-free T-shirt with a mess of locs held back by a band.

Martin | Mia Romero A hectic ball of energy that is a human person, they are passionate about their distaste for your employer's business and are happy to go in length about it. Romero is messy, yet strangely put together in their belief: a hurricane that may sweep you off your feet if you are not careful enough. They know things, things no human should. You should probably report that to your boss...

A city dweller with hair tied sloppily in a short low ponytail, perfectly matched with dramatic eyebags.

[sxnshxnxxnddxxsxxs]

Duke Thomas headcannons becuase please just write him as a black boy:

the first time there’s a summer rain at night after he moves into Wayne Manor Duke sets up the speakers and the floodlights and lives out his 00’s rnb music video dreams

after that Alfred will sometimes drive him around in the back of one of the cars when it rains at night because he doesn’t want his latest grandson to get hypothermia but understands that it is very important to live out 00’s rnb music video dreams

Duke teaches Cass the Usher watch this thing and originally they only use it to tell each other that they’re gonna do some dumb shit but then Cass decides she really likes it and uses it more than the actual sign

Duke and Cass have a theme song because they are besties and that theme song is black and yellow by Wiz Khalifa whenever it plays they drop everything to rap to each other and if anyone turns it off before it finishes they start it again even louder it becomes a great distraction technique for other batfamily members. they chose the song because of their uniforms but the first time a civilian sees how enthusiastic they are about the song they draw a different conclusion and they find it so funny that they definitely have to keep it as their theme song from now on

Duke lives a no shoes in the house life no matter who’s house it is or what everyone else is doing

He also keeps his Signal uniform exclusively in the batcave because no uniforms in the Manor seems like the natural extension for no outside clothes in bed

Duke sneaks scotch bonnets into the Manor kitchen generally timed with the occasions that Jason is around and in the mood to cook. Dinner those nights feature running eyes and noses from Bruce Tim and Steph along with all the milk in the Manor finishing. It’s great entertainment for Duke Cass Damian Jason and Dick

Duke has locs he lowkey thinks about bleaching the ends to match the aesthetic of his uniform but he’s unsure of if it will make him to conspicuous

When he first moved to the Manor he got pooled into the schedule to pick up hair shop (beauty supply store) supplies with the Fox’s because they’re all way too busy of people to be driving out of the way individually so it only made sense to add Duke to that. He and Tam also timetable his retwist appointments with her hair appointments for the same time

Duke is an instigator Jason and Tim will be having a petty squabble that is about to fizzle out but then Duke walks past them and just whispers a quick “if I were you I wouldn’t have that” and then an hour later a priceless vase is broken there’s holes in the wall and Tim and Jason have matching black eyes. Duke considers it a public service to provide Babs with entertainment for when Oracle hours a slow she agrees and doesn’t snitch on just how much shit Duke starts so he can get away with even more

Duke joins Jason and Alfred’s book club and the first book he picks is Beloved because like they’re in this big old gothic manor respect the aesthetic

One time Bruce walks passed Duke on ft to his friends and he’s performing “Wisdom” and Bruce thinks it’s something Duke came up with himself and is trying to be a supportive dad and is like “that’s great son” with a really strained smile and Duke just sticks to the bit like “you really think so?” bruce even more pained “yeah it’s amazing”

He also has exclusively satin pillowcases and gives everyone in the Manor a set because it’s good for the hair and therefore a good use of Bruce’s rich people money

Duke upon realising that he was gonna be adopted by a bunch of crime fighting pseudofurries and was going to join them in the crime fighting said this some white people shit and that’s why he chose Signal rather than some bioluminescent bird

[hoodreader]

II. AFROSTROLOGY

hair inspiration for black people who want to try a new hairstyle but feel stuck. including natural hair styles & texture diversity.

all of this is theoretical, please keep that mind before u gone and take the advice of tumblr user hoodreader. ur own chart still has its own personal contexts that cannot be accounted for in a random post online, haha.

while anyone can read & enjoy this post, it is made with black people (and black hair) in mind. for that reason, my explanations will be from a black perspective.

HAIRSTYLE TWO 🌾 DREADS, LOCS, OR DREADLOCKS. the purposeful matting of hair into tendril-like structures. u can start ur dreads in many ways: from braids, twists, freeforms, crochet, & more.

this style ruffles a lot of feathers with the discourse surrounding who started what, and what is cultural appropriation. the thing is hoodreader says #ArgueWitYaMama cuz hoodreader don’t gaf about a viking. i’m black so i’m talking about black people.

anyways… people dread or loc their hair for a lot of reasons. there’s cultural or religious reasons. there’s political reasons, especially with freeforms, to combat respectability politics concerning black hair. there’s just maintenance reasons. and there’s ’cuz people find them cunty! no matter ur reason, they’re a good option for black people looking to have a great cultural style that shows pride, commitment, and resilience.

okay, now that we know what dreadlocks are, i can begin to explain them astrologically. click “Keep Reading” below to keep reading. :]

SATURNIANS. saturn in the first house/aspecting the ascendant or inner planets, capricorn or aquarius placements

WHY? saturn is the planetary ruler over patterns and textures. especially spirals, or things that are bound. dreadlocks — similar to a delicate yarn — are bound to themselves. this is also why i think that it looks best on kinky hair textures. it’s because black hair is naturally (usually) patterned hair.

it’s also particularly aquarius energy to me in the way that aquarius represents liberation and community. most radical people have some form of prominent aquarius energy in their charts because they don’t mind combatting the system. going against the grain is in their nature. the general public / world has a fetishized or low view of dreadlocks. by getting them, someone shows that they are committed to themselves and not to the conventional public opinion.

it shows commitment. and dedication. and it’s a wonderful way to honor ur ancestors.

JOVIALS. jupiter in the first house/aspecting the ascendant or inner planets/saturn, sagittarius or pisces placements, saturn in sag or pisces

WHY? jupiter represents freedom similarly to aquarius energy. the black people i met with dreads are usually free-spirited in some sort of way— they often are queer, spiritualists, sex workers, politically revolutionary, soulful, or just have a bright ‘auras’.

to many black cultures, it’s believed that dreadlocks represent enlightenment or wisdom. our hair tells us a lot of our crown chakra, and the dreads essentially absorb the wisdom u accumulate over ur life.

TAURUS INFLUENCE. inner planets in taurus (especially moon or venus), taurus ascendant, chart ruler in taurus, saturn in taurus

WHY? taurus just gives the earthy vibe, people usually ascribe ‘natural beauty’ to taurus. which is why i feel like a lot of effortlessly & naturally gorgeous earthy black girls with dreads tend to have that fixed / earthy appearance as well.

fixed also makes sense because dreads are ‘fixed’ in the way that they are effectively permanent or at least a meticulous style to take down. usually when people dread their hair it’s treated as a unreversible thing so they in it for the long haul. taurus is a sign that doesn’t like to be finicky or movable. it’s a real commitment.

SCORPIO INFLUENCE. scorpio ascendant/saturn, chart ruler in scorpio, scorpio inner planets

i think it’s somewhat scorpio to have these things bound to each other, so much that dead hair isn’t let go of either. u accumulate so much energy spiritually with dreads, which is why choosing to dread ur hair is a spiritually monumental decision whether u intend it to or not. scorpio rules things that are deeply intertwined with something else.

for both TAUREANS and SATURNIANS, i want to also mention that the dreadlocks are often compared to plants. for example when people use the term “budding.” saturn rules over agriculture and the ground/earth. taurus rules over flowers and things found in nature.

i think the TWELFTH HOUSE is also a house of significance. with venus or saturn here, i think it can possibly produce a native who wears dreadlocks. but i’m unsure why i feel this way. it was an intuitive inkling lol. maybe a black person with dreads and a 12H saturn/venus can explain. maybe it’s something to do with all of the social stigma attached to them.

i’m a 12H saturn and i never dreaded my hair but the appeal to me is reclaiming something that’s so stigmatized against simply because it’s a black thing to do. i love to reclaim things that society tells black people we should be ashamed of. just my input.

a part of me says VIRGO PLACEMENTS as well, although i’m unsure why. i just think earth placements overall give “wears dreads” energy. and i think virgo gives that energy because virgo is mutable earth — it’s movable but constrained at the same time? kinda like dreads. i also think virgos are very spiritual. very connected to the earth.

okay, those are my theories for dreadlock placements. here’s some examples:

Lisa Bonet (scorpio sun, capricorn mars, taurus moon) is known for her natural beauty and her dreadlocks that complements her appearance.

Lauryn Hill (virgo rising, sag moon, venus conjunct saturn) is known for her dreadlocks and her spirituality/politicalness. she’s viewed as a very wise person.

Whoopi Goldberg (scorpio sun, scorpio moon conj scorpio saturn, sag venus, aqua rising) is known for her dreads. i can’t say if she’s known for being exceptionally political or anything.

ALTERNATIVES if ur hesitant, i recommend trying twists just to see if u like them. if u like it, then maybe u can take that as a sign to go ahead and dread them up. but if not, just take them down — no harm no foul. u could also decorate ur dreads or try faux loc styles, but be care when taking them down! i see many a horror story lol

aight now. i hope this was interesting. i don’t have any outro to write. lol i tried to think hard about this. i hope it inspires black people who been thinking about dreading to finally dread their hair. 🧘🏾 with love and power to my people, HoodReader

[nevaroonie]

Heya Nevy what's your favorite William headcanons? For no nefarious reason whatsoever.

👁️👁️👁️

since you so greatly asked

he has white hair or very light blonde hair and it is long and very well taken care of and I mean real well taken care of.

he is well-versed in technology

when he was turned he was a young adult especially mid to early 20s

his favorite flowers are irises

- fun fact about irises, they're known for their beautiful and flawless nature. whether it's the different varieties or bright lovely colors. They are made to be representations of wisdom, elegance sometimes faith, and compassion. Of course, they're are more definitions for the flower I just thought those were fun to point out.

when he was human he was a wild child, rebellious and wanting to prove his point he got himself a lip-piercing

he wears a lot of jewelry multiple rings on both of his hands earrings, necklaces all of the works.

he has a huge collection of liquors and wines.

he hates having a weak point. something someone could target and get rid of.

that night he found Vincent he decided to be selfish and turn him. offering him a second chance at life. he fully expected Vincent to hate him. he didn't expect to see him like a son

he saw himself in Porter

he has traveled and seen the world

he often wondered what would have been his life had he not been turned

he is quite the painter

watching the world rebuild and then destroy itself shaped his view on people.

he knew Sam would leave the house he just never knew when.

he likes the Sims games he has even made the house members in said Sims.

the color purple.

he was sad and horrified to find out the language he speaks is no longer spoken in his hometown. which he visits quite often.

He hates how quiet the house has become without Lovely and Vincent's antics

his distractions from when his progenies were having fun was listening to classical music and getting lost in his thoughts trying to ignore the other things..

William and Bright talk a lot though he makes the note not to get attached to them like he did with Vincent.

he still feels guilt from the Adam event.

OH! One I recently picked up from friends (Pay mainly) loc William who braids said locs

POC William who has spent his life trying out different protective styles

I'd share more but the rest are interesting.. haha..

[ahyesthesufferingoftvteens]

The Hollow Backrooms: Characters

Reeve Pre-Backrooms

It’s hiiim! Backrooms Reeve! I’m so proud of him! He just recovered from top surgery a month before he no-clipped to the backrooms!

Me and @valarioncy , who drew him, just love his design, and we love him. Such a responsible young man! The oldest of the group. The word of wisdom…not that Adam’s gonna listen half of the time! XD we only have Skeet left now!

Image text listed below:

— Reeve (20) — ♏️

- American. From Newtonville, New Jersey. Attends College in Atlantic City.

- Gay Trans Man. He/Him. African American, specifically Sudanese and New Guinean.

- Raised by his single mom. Never met his deadbeat dad and doesn’t feel a need to go searching for him. Lived in a small trailer by himself. Has a little sister in elementary school named Sara that he's given all his childhood clothes to. He cares for her a lot.

- No-clipped to The Backrooms by tripping while getting out of his bed for college. He had his sketchbook in his hands.

- Stoic and hotheaded. Very responsible; took anger management classes.

- Has one or two friends that he texts every couple months when his introverted needs are satisfied. Mostly keeps to himself at campus.

- Never had a pet in his life and still doesn’t by the time he grew up and moved out. Would get a cat.

- Majors in illustration. Works part-time at Starbucks to get by.

- Very coily hair. Styled it into locs but has had it braided in the past. Has a barber he's very chummy with and treats like family.

- Nondenominational Christian. Raised by a predominently black Bapist church. Active in his community and goes to his church every Sunday.

[lesvianism]

hc that in the best friends route, louis gives clem a wisdom loc so they can match

[zapreportsblog]

↱ innocence and aspiration ↰

�� summary : spider finds himself having a crush on an older na’vi girl even though she views him as nothing more than a foolish little boy that won’t stop him from trying to win over her heart

➘ spider x reader , avatar the way of water x reader

In the lush and vibrant world of Pandora, where the forests glowed with bioluminescence and the creatures of the land and air danced in harmony, a young Na'vi named Spider found himself grappling with a feeling he couldn't quite understand. At fourteen years old, he was just beginning to navigate the path towards adulthood, and in the midst of his journey, he found his heart inexplicably drawn to someone older and wiser than himself.

Her name was (Y/N), a sixteen-year-old Na'vi woman whose grace and confidence were evident in every step she took. She possessed an air of knowledge and experience that left those around her in awe. Yet, for all her wisdom, she couldn't help but view Spider as a mere boy, full of youthful energy and unbridled enthusiasm.

Spider, with his dirty blonde locs of hair and earnest eyes, watched (Y/N) from afar as she went about her daily routines. He admired the way she moved through the forest, her connection to nature evident in every gesture. But more than that, he was captivated by the way her laughter seemed to fill the air with music and her eyes sparkled with a wisdom beyond her years.

One day, as the sun set behind the horizon, casting a warm glow over the landscape, Spider found himself walking alongside (Y/N) as they navigated a familiar trail. His heart raced, and he struggled to find the right words to convey his feelings.

"(Y/N)," he began tentatively, his voice carrying a touch of nervousness. "I... I've been thinking."

She glanced at him with a kind smile, her eyes reflecting a warmth that eased his anxiety. "Thinking about what, little one?"

Spider took a deep breath, his determination bolstered by her encouragement. "I know I'm younger than you, but that doesn't mean I can't aspire for something more. I promise, one day, I'm going to win over your heart."

(Y/N)'s laughter was like a melody that danced through the air, and Spider felt his heart skip a beat at the sound. "Oh, Spider. You're a charming dreamer, I'll give you that."

He chuckled, his cheeks warming at her response. "I know it might sound foolish, but I truly believe that I can grow and become someone who can stand by your side."

(Y/N) paused, her gaze softening as she regarded him with a mixture of amusement and fondness. "You have a heart full of determination, Spider. And while I may see you as a little brother now, who knows what the future holds?"

His heart soared at her words, and he felt a rush of hope that he couldn't contain. In that moment, Spider knew that his feelings for (Y/N) were genuine and unwavering. He might be young, but his aspirations were as boundless as the world around him.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the two continued their journey, their footsteps echoing the rhythm of their shared connection to the land. With the promise of tomorrow and the wisdom of ages past, Spider set his sights on a future where his love and determination would lead him to win the heart of the woman who had unknowingly ignited his dreams.

As the days turned into weeks, Spider's determination to win (Y/N)'s heart remained steadfast. He sought opportunities to spend time with her, learning from her wisdom and experience, and cherishing every moment they shared.

One afternoon, the pair found themselves perched atop a rocky ledge, overlooking a breathtaking vista. The sprawling expanse of Pandora's beauty spread out before them, a testament to the harmony between nature and the Na'vi people.

"(Y/N)," Spider began, his tone more confident than before, "I've been practicing my archery lately. Would you like to see?"

(Y/N) turned to him with a curious smile. "Of course, Spider. I'd love to."

With a flourish, Spider retrieved his bow and arrows, positioning himself with an air of determination. He drew the bowstring back, his focus intense as he aimed for a distant target. The arrow sailed through the air with precision, striking the target dead center.

(Y/N)'s applause filled the air, her admiration evident in her eyes. "Impressive, Spider! Your dedication is paying off."

His chest swelled with pride at her praise, and he grinned at her like a child seeking approval. "I've been practicing every day, imagining that one day, I'll be able to protect the ones I care about."

(Y/N) studied him for a moment, her gaze thoughtful. "You have a noble heart, Spider. Your determination is a strength that will serve you well."

Encouraged by her words, Spider took a step closer, his eyes locking with hers. "And what about us, (Y/N)? What if my determination extends to winning your heart?"

(Y/N)'s expression softened, and she sighed, a hint of fond exasperation in her voice. "Spider, you truly are something. Your spirit is infectious, and I admire your enthusiasm. But I see you as a dear friend, someone I care about deeply."

His heart sank slightly at her words, but he refused to let disappointment deter him. "I understand that we're friends, (Y/N). But I'm not giving up. I'll keep learning, growing, and showing you that my feelings are real."

(Y/N)'s laughter rang out once again, a melody that echoed through the surrounding landscape. "I have no doubt that you're serious, Spider. Your persistence is admirable, even if I can't promise you anything more."

Spider smiled, his gaze steady as he met her eyes. "Then I'll continue to dream, (Y/N), and I'll continue to aspire to be someone worthy of your affection."

The sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the world around them. As they made their way back to the Na'vi village, Spider's heart felt lighter, his determination stronger than ever.

He knew that winning (Y/N)'s heart might be a lofty goal, but the bond they shared as friends was something he cherished deeply. With each passing day, he was learning that sometimes, the journey itself was as valuable as the destination.

As the stars began to twinkle in the evening sky, Spider walked beside (Y/N), the promise of friendship and dreams yet to be realized guiding his every step.

In the heart of Pandora's lush landscape, Spider's determination remained unwavering. He continued to spend time with (Y/N), sharing laughter, stories, and the beauty of the world around them. While his feelings for her had deepened, he also found himself growing as an individual, guided by the hope that one day he would win her heart.

One day, as the sun dappled through the leaves of the forest, (Y/N) and Spider set out on a journey together, their destination a hidden waterfall known for its tranquility and ethereal beauty. As they walked, their conversation flowed freely, punctuated by laughter and shared moments of wonder.

"(Y/N)," Spider began, his voice carrying a hint of determination, "I've been learning about the sacred plants of our land—their uses and their healing properties. I thought it might be something you'd find interesting."

(Y/N)'s gaze held a mixture of curiosity and appreciation. "You've been busy, Spider. I'm impressed by your dedication."

Spider's smile was genuine as he explained his studies, his passion for the knowledge evident in his words. He had discovered that there was more to his journey than just winning (Y/N)'s heart; it was about becoming someone who could stand alongside her as an equal.

As they reached the waterfall, its gentle cascade of water shimmering in the sunlight, (Y/N) turned to Spider with a smile. "You've truly come a long way, Spider. Your dedication to learning and growing is inspiring."

His cheeks flushed with pride, and he stepped closer to her, his voice earnest. "I've learned so much from you, (Y/N), and I'm grateful for every moment we spend together."

(Y/N)'s gaze held a warmth that seemed to reach into his very soul. "You know, Spider, sometimes the heart's journey is just as important as the destination. I've come to value our friendship deeply."

His heart swelled with a mixture of joy and gratitude. "(Y/N), even if I'm younger and less experienced, I promise to stand by your side as an equal one day."

(Y/N) placed a hand on his shoulder, her touch reassuring. "Spider, your dedication is commendable. But remember, life's journey is unpredictable. What matters is the person you become along the way."

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a soft golden glow over the waterfall, Spider's heart felt light. He had come to realize that while his feelings for (Y/N) were genuine and strong, the journey of self-discovery and growth was just as meaningful.

"(Y/N)," he began, his voice steady, "I'll keep aspiring to be the best version of myself, and one day, I hope you'll see that I'm worthy of your heart."

(Y/N)'s gaze held a mixture of affection and fondness. "Spider, your heart is genuine, and your determination is admirable. No matter where our paths lead, I have no doubt you'll make a mark on the world."

As they walked back to the village, the world around them seemed to radiate with a sense of hope and possibility. While the destination of his heart's desire remained uncertain, Spider had come to understand that the journey itself was a story worth living, a tale of growth, friendship, and the unyielding spirit of aspiration.

[winxanity-ii]

⌜TikTok | Chapter 02 Chapter 02 | catch me outside⌟

╰ ⌞ᴏɴᴇ-sʜᴏᴛ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

╰┈➤ ❝🇾‌🇴‌🇺‌ 🇳‌🇪‌🇪‌🇩‌ 🇦‌🇳‌ 🇦‌🇸‌🇸‌ 🇼‌🇭‌🇴‌🇴‌🇵‌🇮‌🇳‌🇬‌.❞

.（ ՞ਊ ՞）. .（ ՞ਊ ՞）.

"C'mon, Stasi, you gonna let that bleach blonde, bad-built, butch body touch yo shit!?" It was 11 in the morning, and here you were, comfortably resting in the living room across the sofa, eating a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch while watching Season 7 of Bad Girls Club. The TV blared with the intensity of the ongoing fight between Stasi and Shelly.

"Beat her ass! Beat her ass! Beat her ass!" you chanted at the screen, fully immersed in the drama.

You were comfortably dressed in your cow onesie, complete with a hood with ears and an attached tail on the back, making the scene all the more comical. Just as you were about to see the climax of the fight, there was a knock at the front door.

Pausing the television, you got up, slightly annoyed at the interruption. "Who is it?" you called out, making your way to the door.

"It's Seora!" came the excited reply.

Opening the door, you were greeted by the sight of your best friend practically bouncing on the balls of her feet. You looked at her, confused. "Seora? What are you doing here?"

Seora stopped her excited bouncing to deadpan at you. "Did you really forget about me coming by to tell you something?"

Your eyes widened as you drew out a slow and unsure, "Uh, yes?"

Seora sighed, shaking her head. "You really are something else, ____. Anyway, my uncle invited me over to his new place, and you have to come with me because I don't wanna go alone. It'll be fun!"

You stuttered, recalling how handsome her dad is. And if her uncle is anything like her dad, he's gonna be fine as hell. "W-wait, what about my clothes? I'm not dressed for—"

Seora cut you off with a wave, pointing to her own attire. She wore a large red bonnet to protect her hair, and a large red hoodie that engulfed her frame. Lifting it up, she showcased her tank top and sleeping shorts. "See? Me neither."

Before you could protest any further, she dragged you out of the house.

☆

☆

You both were dropped off at Seora's uncle's house by her mother, a beautiful dark-skinned woman with long locs named Aniyah. She was the epitome of grace and strength, her eyes filled with warmth and wisdom. As she pulled up to the curb, she turned to you both with a smile.

"Alright, you two, have fun. Seora, make sure to call me when you two are ready to be picked up," Aniyah said, her voice carrying the loving authority of a mother who cared deeply for her daughter and her daughter's best friend.

"Will do, Mom!" Seora replied, giving her mother a quick kiss on the cheek before hopping out of the car.

You followed, carrying your bowl of cereal that was now empty thanks to Seora's snacking during the ride. You were still pouting over the loss of your cereal as you walked up to the door of the three-story home.

"Thanks, Ms. Aniyah!" you called back, waving as she drove off. Aniyah waved back, her locs swaying gently in the breeze as she pulled away from the curb.

As you approached the house, you couldn't help but be impressed by its grandeur. Seora rang the doorbell and waved into the Ring camera.

While you waited, you looked around, taking in the exterior of the place. "This is big. Do they have any single apartments for rent here?" you joked—not that you were planning on moving out of your parents' home, but it was nice to see other options.

Seora snorted. "Apartment? This is one house, my uncle's to be exact," she replied, shaking her head at your jest.

Just as she finished her statement, the door swung open, and a blur of movement came forward, yanking Seora into a big hug. The figure twirled her side to side with bubbles of laughter filling the air. You watched as your best friend squealed and hugged the figure back, her joy infectious.

After a few seconds, the figure let Seora down, and you finally got a good look at him. Your soul practically ascended into heaven—the man was a Renaissance painting come to life. His hair was pink and fluffy like cotton candy, matching the shade of his plump lips. Pale skin shone flawlessly like porcelain, and his dark almond eyes stared back at you with a playful glint.

...____...____...

..____... ____..."____!" You were elbowed harshly out of your daydream by Seora.

"Girl, I know you heard me call your name like 10 times," she huffed before turning back to her uncle. "Sorry, Uncle Jinnie, she's a bit of an airhead around pretty faces. Should have expected this."

Jin just laughed, waving her off as he opened the door wider and moved over. "It's fine, Seoseo. Besides, I never get tired of hearing how handsome I am," he said with a wink. "Give me a moment, and I'll go fetch you two some house-shoes, but for right now, come in. We have a sitting space near the doorway."

With that, he left to go get you two some house-shoes. As soon as he was gone, you snapped your head towards Seora, gripping her by the collar. "How could you? You're out here sabotaging my chance at love now?!"

Seora just rolled her eyes at your behavior, already expecting it. "Oh, hush. No such thing as sabotaging something that was never gonna happen."

You stopped mid-rant to blink at her. "What? I'm grown as fuck. I could totally bag your uncle."

Seora flared her nose. "First of all, ew. Second of all, you just turned 18. And third of all, your chances were ruined the moment I introduced you as my best friend. Besides, he's 25 and he's adamant about not dating for love right now."

You sniffled, heartbroken at her words. You knew she wasn't lying; there was no reason for her to. You looked dramatically at the ground, sighing, gripping your chest. "I can see our future slipping away like sand in the glass of time..."

Seora couldn't help but push your shoulder. "Oh, can it, Juliet. Besides, if you were listening to his introduction instead of daydreaming, you'd have heard he's staying here with like six other dudes."

"Six!?"you wheezed, unable to fathom so many living together besides family. It took a second longer for her sentence to register. "Wait, dudes? As in, six other males live here!?" you said, gripping her arms once more.

Seora just hummed, "Yeah."

Soon, the sound of Jin's voice came from further in the house. "You guys are always losing shit! Now where's the other goddamn pair of house shoes we keep for guests?!"

"Ask Hobi!" a random voice shouted back.

Jin could then be heard groaning loudly before going quiet, seemingly to go find the missing shoes. You turned back to your best friend, leaning in close and whispering,��"Bonnet. Now."

Seora spluttered, "What-why?? I need my bonnet!"

You flared your nose, yanking down the hood of your onesie to reveal your head of half-taken down scalp braids. "Because," you hissed, pointing to your head, "someone dragged me out of the house without even checking to see if I was done taking down my hair."

Seora looked sheepishly away. "Fine," she muttered, untying her bonnet and handing it to you.

Just as you finished putting the bonnet on and tying it around your head, Jin returned with the shoes. With a sheepish grin, he handed them to you two. "Sorry about that. Now, how about I give you two a tour of the house before stopping by the kitchen to grab us some lunch?"

"Sounds like a plan." "Sure."

☆

☆

Jin rushed into the kitchen like a headless chicken. "Chips...juice...ramen..." he listed everything off as he scourged through the cabinets and fridge to create a small snack assortment for you and Seora.

Jungkook was seated at the table, eating from his bowl while watching YouTube on his phone propped up in front of him. He looked up when he heard Jin rushing around to gather all the food and snacks before going back to watching his video.

A scowling Yoongi then walked in, halting once he saw Jin mixing two bowls of something with one hand and balancing bags of chips, candy, and juice in the other. "Are you really going to eat all that? After just devouring enough food to feed like 4 of us?" he questioned, walking to the fridge to grab himself a bottle of banana milk.

Jin rolled his eyes at the male before sarcastically responding with a "Yeah, so?"

"Such a fat ass," Yoongi jeered with a shake of his head, walking past the older.

Jin froze, stunned by his words. "What did you just say?" he asked, turning to set the bowls aside.

Jungkook continued eating, observing the two in front of him as if they were acting in a drama.

Yoongi turned, staring at Jin with a blank expression on his face. "I said, you've been eating all day and to quit being such a fat ass," he repeated slowly, finishing with a cross of his arms.

Jungkook gasped, covering his mouth with his hands; he glanced over to Jin only to see him gawking at Yoongi with wide eyes.

"Why would youㅡ?" Jin breathed out before looking around the kitchen, eyes once more landing on Yoongi's slumped form. "Oh, my Gods. You need to hide," he urged, leaving his food to grab a hold of Yoongi's shoulders.

Yoongi's face scrunched up in agitation as he shrugged off the male's hands. "The fuck I'm hiding for?"

"Yoongi, you don't understand what you just didㅡ"

"All I said was that you're a fat ass and to quit eating so damn much. You'd think someone would be upset at that statement, but you're just being weird as fuck, so I'm just a little bit confused."

"I know, I know, I know. I can explain later. But please, for now, just don't say it again," Jin sighed, running a hand down his face as he took a step back.

A snort left the mint-haired male's lips, "And if I do? I'm a motherfucking grown-ass man. I can say whatever the fuck I want, and if I wanna say you're being a fat assᅳ"

"Yoongi, pleaseᅳ"

"ᅳthen you're a fucking fat ass."

Suddenly, the kitchen door slammed open, startling everyone inside, and in walked Seora with you following closely behind.

"Oh, dear Gods, please have mercy on him," Jin whispered underneath his breath before walking back towards his spot by Jungkook.

"Who the hell are you?" Yoongi demanded as he took in Seora's features.

She had shoulder-length, curly black hair, tan brown skin, and almond-shaped brown eyes. Her head scarcely reached his nose. "No, who the hell are you, you wide nose, backwashed, no lip-having ass bitch?" she spat instead of answering his question.

"That's my niece; her name is Seora," Jin answered from behind the counter. "And over there is her best friend, ____."

"How old is she?" Yoongi asked, staring at the girl that was currently glaring blades at him.

"Don't worry about how old I am. What you need to worry about is why you shaped like a child yet dressed like you lived through the Great Depression." The girl spoke with a sneer on her face as she looked Yoongi up and down.

"Ooh~" Jungkook echoed in the background.

"She's 17," Jin sighed.

Yoongi's eyebrows arched up in astonishment, "Wow, what a mouth she has on her. This is how disrespectful kids these days are, huh?"

Jin just sighed in agreement. "I know," he muttered.

Seora snapped back, "You'd automatically get respect if you weren't shaped like a big-back blubber whale."

Jungkook choked on his food in laughter in the background, and you covered your lips, hiding your chuckle.

Yoongi could just stare gobsmacked before scoffing once more. "You need an ass whooping," he muttered.

Seora raised a brow. "Oh? Are you gonna deliver it to me? How 'bout you catch me outside instead of worrying about my age? I promise it won't affect the way yo' ass about to get beat," she challenged, taking a step towards Yoongi with narrowed eyes.

A chortle left Yoongi at her words, "Oh, you think you're tough? You really think you can beat me up?" he grinned.

Jin shot up from his seat, ready to stop the two before it got out of hand. "Yoongi, I wouldn't do that if I were youᅳ"

"Catch me outside? That's what you said, right? Then let's go outside," Yoongi said, cutting off Jin's sentence.

Seora nodded and began walking over to the door, "Yeah, let's go outside. Come on, come on."

You, watching the whole scene unfold, decided to step in. "Seora, c'mon, let's not make a scene. We're guests here, remember?" you said, trying to defuse the situation.

"____, it's fine. I got this," Seora replied, her eyes still locked on Yoongi.

Yoongi glanced back at Jin and Jungkook before shrugging his shoulders and turning around to follow the girl.

Out of nowhere, Seora swung around and struck Yoongi across his face, causing him to collapse onto the ground.

"Holy shit, man!" Jungkook roared, springing up from his seat.

"Goddamn!" You gasped, covering your mouth with both hands this time.

Jin rushed over to the two. "Oh, my Gods! Seora are you okay?" he asked Seora, holding her hand between his own.

"I'm fine, Uncle Jinnie," Seora replied, beaming up at the male.

"Are you shitting me! She just fucking pimp-slapped the shit out of me, and you're asking if she's okay!?" Yoongi shouted, holding the side of his face as he glared up at the two.

Seora looked around Jin, glaring down hard at Yoongi's form. "If you can't handle getting slapped, maybe you should watch what the fuck you say about my uncle," she sneered.

"Come on, sweetie, let's go get you something for your hand~" Jin cooed, walking Seora out the kitchen door.

Grumbling underneath his breath, Yoongi grimaced as his face throbbed in pain.

You moved over to Yoongi, offering him a hand. "Are you okay? That looked like it hurt," you said, genuinely concerned.

Yoongi took your hand and got up, rubbing his face. "I'll be fine. Just didn't expect her to hit so damn hard," he muttered.

Jungkook proceeded to eat his food when Taehyung suddenly walked into the kitchen. "Hey, did you guys know Jin's niece is here? She's so cuteᅳHoly shit! What the hell happened to your face, Yoongi?!" he asked, staring down at Yoongi's bruised skin.

"Shut the fuck up!" Yoongi hissed, shoving the boy aside as he hurried out of the kitchen.

Taehyung blinked before turning to face you. His lips pulled up into a boxy smile as he gave you a grin. "Hi, I'm Tae. Cute onesie, by the way. Where'd you get it?" he asked, smiling after giving you a once-over.

Your face immediately felt as if it were on fire. First, Seora's fine-ass uncle had to see you like this, and now him!?!

What had you done in your past life to deserve this? "I-uh, W-walmart.." you pathetically stuttered out.

Before anything else could be said, a few seconds later, Namjoon walked in with a frown on his face. "Can anyone please explain to me why Yoongi has a handprint on the side of his face?"

A/N: Inspired by: Catch me outside, how 'bout dat video. I hope you enjoyed it! See you guys later!

P.S. Yes, you read Seora's description correctly, she is Blasian. I did this because I haven't a lot of Blasian (Black & Asian mixed) characters on here, Quotev, or even Ao3, just Wasians (White & Asian mixed) which is sad asf, but what can you do?? So Jin's niece will be part black and Asian (her mother is black and her father, who is Jin's brother, is Korean). Also, i love Seora as a character and will incorporate/flesh her out more here unlike in 'No Hoods Attached' so if you don't like that, then you ass out, dueces.

[happi-tree]

hunter’s mark, reversed

You never forget your first kill, they always say. 

What the monster manuals and hunting guides and mentors forget to say is that sometimes, your first kill never forgets you, either. 

Grant trudges to the master bathroom, attempting to muss his hair out of its unruly bedhead. He flicks on the lights, runs the water, lets the cool chill of it splash against his face and rouse him into a loose definition of wakefulness. Washes his face, turns off the water, looks in the mirror as he pats his face dry. 

His own reflection stares at him, tired. 

His eyes veer to his right, where a pair of vacant, milky white eyes look back.

Or: Grant Wilson, and the things that haunt him.

ao3

This is my fic for @dndadsfanweeks' Halloween Week day 6: ghosts. Like previous days, this is part of the supernatural au @llumimoon, @kaseyskat, and I planned out together. Content warnings for blood, gore, death, and general angstiness.

Hunter’s Mark (reversed): You choose kill a creature you can see within range and it mystically marks it you as your its quarry. Until the spell ends, you it deals an extra 1d6 psychic damage to the target whenever you hit it with a weapon attack, and you have disadvantage on any Wisdom (Perception) or Wisdom (Survival) check you make to find it.

-Ranger Spell List, D&D 5th ed.

You never forget your first kill, they always say. 

What the monster manuals and hunting guides and mentors forget to say is that sometimes, your first kill never forgets you, either. 

Grant trudges to the master bathroom, attempting to muss his hair out of its unruly bedhead. He flicks on the lights, runs the water, lets the cool chill of it splash against his face and rouse him into a loose definition of wakefulness. Washes his face, turns off the water, looks in the mirror as he pats his face dry. 

His own reflection stares at him, tired. 

His eyes veer to his right, where a pair of vacant, milky white eyes look back, expressionless, framed by dark locs and pallored skin. 

“Hi, Yeet,” Grant says softly. 

You never forget your first kill. 

You never forget your first crush, either. 

And for Grant Wilson, he’s unlucky enough that those two people ended up one and the same. 

There is no response from the boy in the mirror, just a blank, glassy stare, like one of the taxidermied animal heads that had decorated the walls of his grandma’s house. 

(As a little kid, he’d always thought their severed heads and marble eyes were a bit uncomfortable to look at, a bit creepy. He would make a game in his head of seeing how long he could be in the family room at night before he chickened out and turned the lights on. It was good, harmless fun, to look at the things Grandpa Frank had shot and convince himself that they were watching him from somewhere beyond the veil.)

(That was before he met Yeet, of course. Before his father had pulled him aside and told Grant what Grandpa Frank had told him.)

“Honey,” Marco calls from beyond the bathroom, and his husband’s soothing voice manages to pull him from his thoughts, just a little. His white-knuckle grip on the edge of the sink loosens (when had he grabbed it?). 

“Hey, I’m headed out to work,” Marco says, poking his head in through the doorway. 

The sight of Grant’s favorite person relaxes him further.

(He tries not to think about the way he had looked with a bullet wound between his eyes in his dream last night, his eyes fog-covered and glass-marbled, his jaw slack and dripping with gore.)

Grant feels Marco’s stubble brush along his cheekbone as his husband gives him a quick peck. 

“Okay,” Grant hears himself say, although it feels like his head is underwater (it feels like his head is stuck twenty-five years in the past.) “Love you.”

Marco’s eyebrows knit together above his half-moon glasses. Grant hates and loves in equal measure the way that his husband can read him so well, even when he’s busy and frazzled from his morning routine. Some sort of witchy ability of his, he’s sure. 

The concern in those onyx-flint eyes make Grant want to run and hide, sometimes, to cower and shy away like a prey animal under the weight of his affection. 

Grant stays still, though. He’s gotten better at that (at least, that’s what Marco tells him).

“You sound awful.”

“Good morning to you, too, sweetheart,” Grant says, trying to inject some lightheartedness into his voice.

“The adjustments I made to the sleeping draught didn’t work much, huh,” Marco frets.

Grant sighs. “Yeah.” Among other things.

His gaze slides to the mirror again: his warm, wonderful, magical husband on his left, a ghostly shade of a boy on his right. Grant in the middle, somewhere between living and dead, between predator and prey.

Marco follows his gaze, sees the way it lands on negative space.

“I know you don’t want to hear this, but I could always try an exorcism,” he muses, squinting at the silver-backed pane like he’s trying to force himself to see what Grant does.

“Too risky,” Grant says, like he has every other time Marco has offered. “He lashed out a lot, when I was younger. I wouldn’t want him to hurt you.”

It’s true. In the first few months - years - afterward, Yeet was a complete poltergeist. Gusts of wind would rip through every corridor of his childhood home, piercing shrieks and wordless screams echoing right next to his ears, those milky-white eyes narrowed in fury as wave upon wave of pity-disgust-betrayal-anger-fear reached through to his chest with icy cold fingers, emotions that were his burden but not his own siphoning between his ribs and pulling .

Phantom blood had drenched his teenage hands, red and sticky and awful but also strangely beautiful, congealing into chunks around shaking joints, caking into his fingernails, and Grant would pick at the skin there until it bled anew, as if disposing of the flaking crimson would absolve him of his sins.

Grant has long since rid himself of Catholic guilt. His own is more than any god could give him, now, and he watches as the red fills his peripheral vision, leaving gory smears on the countertop, worming its way into every line of his palm. Its counterpart blooms from Yeet’s chest, flowering and spreading outward, mesmerizing in a way that Grant knows he shouldn’t find pretty.

Marco exhales, places a hand atop his, unlatches it from the edge of the sink (fuck, he had been gripping it too hard again, hadn’t he), interlocks their fingers together. The red doesn’t spread to him.

(Grant hopes it never will. Grant hopes that, at the end of things, he will be buried, soaked in blood and gore, a sponge for all the violence so that his family, his friends, his pack, never have to live in fear again.)

“Okay,” Marco says, calmly, firmly.

Too many people have treated Grant like he is fragile, one moment away from breaking. Blessedly, Marco has never been one of them.

“I’m fine,” Grant says. “I’m fine, Marco.”

“It’s okay not to be,” Marco says, infuriatingly patient for someone who was about to rush out the door.

“You’re going to be late,” he evades.

“Time is relative, dear,” Marco responds, the air tingeing with a very specific mirage of color that Grant has long since learned to identify as his husband’s magic. There’s a slight upturn to his mouth, and Grant can’t help but lean into him and fit his lips to the seam of his smile.

Marco’s hands come to grasp at his waist, grounding, steadying, and the air smells less like a bloodstained forest night and more like clementines and jasmine. 

When Grant pulls away, there is no blood where his fingers cup his husband’s jaw, nor where his hand fists in his clean shirt.

“There you are,” Marco murmurs, smiling gently, and fuck, Grant does not deserve him in the slightest.

(He doesn’t need the lone boy in the mirror, rigor-mortis-frozen at age thirteen, to tell him that. Although the phantasmal reminder certainly doesn’t hurt.)

“You sure you’re gonna be okay to drive Lincoln to school?” Marco asks.

At the edge of his hearing, Grant can hear the uncoordinated puttering of their son in the kitchen, attempting to prepare his breakfast with only his feet.

He smiles, and it feels a little less fake on his face. “Yeah, I can handle it. It’s his first day, I can’t not drive our little boy!”

“Alright,” Marco says, pecking him again on the cheek and turning to leave before pausing at the threshold.

“Oh,” he says. “Before I forget and you freak out, Lincoln and I did some arts and crafts yesterday.”

“Friendship bracelets?” Grant asks.

“Yep.”

There’s a cold breeze only he can feel. “And they work?”

Marco cocks his head to one side. “No reason why they shouldn’t. Iron to ward off fae, silver for werewolves, even soaked the strings in holy water to throw something anti-demonic in there,” he lists. “And of course, imbued with good intent.”

 “Of course,” Grant echoes. 

“I can tell you’re thinking,” his husband says.

Grant hums. “Public school’s gonna be good for Lincoln, it’s just - are we going too far with the precautions?” He frowns. “I just don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

“I mean, he’s going to find out eventually,” Marco says. “Whether or not he hears it from us.”

“I don’t want that to happen.”

“It’s going to, one way or another,” his husband asserts, frown clashing against his smile lines.

“I know, I know,” Grant sighs. “It’s just-”

There’s so much blood on Grant’s hands, passed down from his father and his father’s father, monster hunter to monster hunter to monster hunter. (Grant’s idea of a monster has shifted, as his father’s had, but the rush of the hunt remains regardless). The red will spread, as the red always does.

He can only hope it doesn’t stain his son’s hands. He can only hope it doesn’t ooze from his son’s ruptured heart. 

Marco’s features soften. “I know,” he says. (He shouldn’t have to know.) “He’s growing up too fast.”

“Yeah,” Grant agrees.

“If you think the bracelets are too much, though, I don’t think he’s packed yet.”

Grant’s vision is drawn once more to the figure in the mirror. Yeet regards him silently, mouth agape in a silent scream of betrayal. His ghostly form still bears the marks of a witch hunter, wooden stakes and crucifixes and torches that Grant didn’t let him set ablaze. 

He looks, and Yeet morphs before his eyes, locs shortening to dark, fluffy curls, close-cropped at the sides, freckles appearing on boyish, rounded cheeks and lanky limbs. The ghost looks a lot like Lincoln.

Yeet smiles wickedly, and blood pools from the corner of his mouth, runs down his spectral chin.

“No, no, the bracelets are a good idea,” Grant says, eyes not leaving the mirror. “Thank you for helping make them.”

“Not a problem, honey,” Marco says, squeezing his shoulder and dragging him back to the living “All good to go?”

“I need to get dressed, first,” Grant responds, gesturing at his loose t-shirt and boxers.

“I’ll leave you to it, then, I really do have to go,” He says. “I’m gonna wish Lincoln good luck, and then I’m off!”

“Okay,” Grant says, already moving to grab his sweater and slacks for his shift at the library later today. “Love you.”

“Love you, too!” Marco replies, immediate and ever-present, an answer to a question Grant doesn’t deserve to ask. “And Grant?”

“Hm?”

“Lincoln will be fine,” Marco reassures. “Trust me. I have a good feeling about this.”

“I hope so.”

The boy in the full-length mirror stares at him, hovering just at his right, and Grant avoids looking at him.

God, I really hope so. 

[uzumaki-rebellion]

“Black Boys Bloom Thorns First: Volume 4, Chapter 73″

Masterlist HERE. 

"They say she get it from her Mama…

I put that on my own mama, on my hood I look fly, I look good You can't touch my bag, wish you could I look fly, I look too good Put that on my own mama, on my hood…"

Victoria Monet – "On My Mama"

T'Challa lifted his newborn son from his fluffy pram blanket and gently burped him near the wall-sized window of the Sun Room. Nakia fed the baby constantly and after only a week of being alive, Toussaint was fatter and his belly became a round ball that his father liked to tickle.

The deep rich melanin had evened out across his son's body and looking down at the tiny face, T'Challa witnessed a mirror, a version of himself that depended on a family to raise him up the right way. He kissed Toussaint's forehead, then rocked him quietly.

"This is the best place to catch the last rays if you don't want to go outside…"

T'Challa turned to the sound of N'Jadaka's voice.

"Just sneaking in some time with him alone before I go to the ball," T'Challa said.

N'Jadaka touched Toussaint's hand and the baby squirmed and grabbed a hold of his cousin's index finger.

"He's strong," N'Jadaka said.

"Here."

T'Challa handed over his son and N'Jadaka cradled the boy much better than he did. Of course, he had more experience with Sydette when she was a baby. But T'Challa learned quickly and studied how N'Jadaka moved with the little one, the natural ease giving him the confidence to do better himself. He still became nervous caring for Toussaint, so the little trips away from Nakia's side helped him shore up his daddy skills. When Shuri had been born, T'Challa had been at university and didn't have an opportunity to care for her as a newborn with so many palace attendants looking after the princess and Ramonda. Like his son, his baby sister had been a precious tiny being that made him too self-conscious about screwing up his interactions. The Black Panther had faced terrors that the mind couldn't conceive, and yet a seven-pound bundle kept him feeling fluttery in the brain and hands.

"Lotta hair," N'Jadaka said, touching a curly loc on the top of Toussaint's head.

N'Jadaka scrunched his face at the baby with various silly expressions making T'Challa laugh.

"You are good with babies," T'Challa said.

"I do alright. You'll get the hang of this cuz. Wait until he calls you Baba for the first time… man, you'll float on cloud nine. When Sydette said that to me, I swear, I must've grown fifty feet taller. Kids…they make life different… make you see things differently if you let them."

"I understand that completely now. I worry that I will be an overprotective father, or worse, a father who allows too much because how can I deny this child's wondrous face?"

"You'll find balance."

"I hope so. I would like to have a relationship with my son the way you do with your children. You are an exceptional father, N'Jadaka."

The king looked into T'Challa's eyes and a humbleness rested there.

"I raise my children the way my parents raised me, with respect, kindness, and plenty of unconditional love. They believed I could do anything I set my mind to and supported me with all of my interests. I felt at ease with them… could talk about anything under the sun and I would always know they had my back. When I had to live in juvie for almost a year, I discovered how blessed I was to have my parents. Even if it was for a short period of time. Some children never know love from the adults that bring them into the world. There's so much suffering for no reason. I cherish all of my memories with them and I try to pass on their wisdom to my kids."

T'Challa reached into the leather pouch that hung around his neck and pulled out some Wakandan currency folded into a neat square.

"Riki paid me this to make another male baby. I was told that Yani explained to him that the father determines the sex of the baby, and he asked for this money back from Nakia so he could give it to me. I am giving it back to you because Toussaint is a lot of work and I can't imagine having another baby too soon. It is your turn to bring in more boys," T'Challa said.

N'Jadaka grinned and handed Toussaint back to T'Challa, palming the money in return.

"Yani will decide when that happens, but trust, I am practicing,"

T'Challa cackled and N'Jadaka lowered his head, realizing he revealed too much.

N'Jadaka started humming a little, familiar tune, and T'Challa joined in by softly singing the words to "Lullaby Little One", peering at the snuggled bundle in his arms.

"He is the best of everything that I am," T'Challa said.

N'Jadaka glanced up at T'Challa.

"My father is proud of you… of us," N'Jadaka said.

T'Challa tilted his head and regarded his cousin's face with curiosity.

"I visit them…my parents…over at Black Creek whenever I need to think about my purpose and my role as king. It calms me. Reminds me of my duty to my family too. Baba loved you with all his heart and he is happy that you and I are together. He said it was the way it was supposed to be. He still watches over you too, Cuz. And your son," N'Jadaka said.

T'Challa lowered his head and let out a shuddery breath.

"Hearing that pleases me, N'Jadaka. I feel peace in my heart now that you and I are one."

He looked out over the window view of the kingdom.

"I have made peace with my own father. It has not been easy walking in his shadow. I have laid that burden to rest as you told me. You and I have children to raise and a nation to protect. Tonight is a very important gathering," T'Challa said.

The king gazed at the river below busy with night merchants and leisure boats passing in and out of Birnin Zana's brightly lit port.

"Tonight we watch nations curry favor with us. Niganda's president and the Prime Minister of Mohannda have been acting salty as fuck with our inquiries about border disputes and encroaching on our territory. Canaan and Azania have remained open on everything since the first UDC meeting. Azania has slowly been jockeying for my attention even more since we hosted the inaugural UDC in their country. They would like to host the next meeting at the end of the year. I suggested rotating gatherings as an option, although Canaan would prefer they all be hosted here."

T'Challa grinned.

"It is a sly way of getting into Wakanda twice a year," T'Challa said.

"I know. But we have to appear egalitarian. North Africa is already feeling slighted because I won't let them in yet."

"Tunisia did not help them with their behavior."

"I'll worry about the north later."

"Niganda and Mohannda will be our main troublemakers. They will be all shiny teeth and glowing eyes for you in front of the other nations," T'Challa said.

"Umama reminded me yesterday that shiny teeth don't mean people are smiling at you."

"This is true. You will learn tonight the masks those two countries have worn for centuries when dealing with us. My father kept them at arm's length for over thirty years."

"Time for me to bring them closer."

N'Jadaka checked his kimoyo.

"I'll meet you on the bridge at eight," N'Jadaka said.

The king left him alone and T'Challa gazed at his son. His kimoyos lit up with a pulsing white glow. An urgent signal from Captain America.

T'Challa used a voice command to bring up Steve's floating avatar. The deep creases on the Avenger's forehead and the tight-lipped stare conveyed a grim mood at the Avenger's compound. For a brief moment, Steve glanced down at Toussaint and a faint smile perked up the American's lips.

"Your new son," Steve said.

"Toussaint."

"That doesn't sound like a Wakandan name."

"It's Haitian. What is going on?"

"We may need your sister's help," Steve said.

"With what exactly?"

"We're in the middle of a delicate situation and if we can't solve it…T'Challa, some invaders arrived and attacked members of our team. Vision… he's in a lot of trouble and we're trying to protect him."

"Zero hour?" T'Challa said.

"I'm praying that it isn't. Can we count on your help if we can't keep him safe here?"

"Our king is prepared to assist," T'Challa said.

"Wanda and Vision were attacked in Scotland. Their assailants were after the mind stone. Please inform King N'Jadaka that we will be in touch again soon."

The fear in Steve's eyes soaked through the avatar. T'Challa ended the call and stared into the eyes of his son.

"You are not even a week old and your Baba and cousin must fight to keep the world whole in order for you to live well."

He pushed back against the cool dread gliding up the base of his neck.

The Avengers were a tight team despite their internal differences. Steve Rogers was frightened and desperate for Wakanda's backing. N'Jadaka needed to get through the night with T'Challa keeping a sharp eye for turncoats. One thing at a time though. Get through the ball and then await any more news from the Avenger's compound.

"Come, my son. Let us return to your mother so Baba can do his job."

The noble women Yani chose as her Ladies-in-Waiting prepared her fresh make-up after her dinner with N'Jadaka. Zola was a member of the Panther tribe. She had a soft athletic build with fetching eyes and was one of the first Wakandan elites to befriend Yani during her first weeks in the country. She knew all the gossip and schooled Yani about who to watch out for in the close-knit upper classes. Ilana was more guarded. Although she had been friendly toward Yani in the beginning, their friendship was a slow bloom once she became better acquainted. Her gorgeous figure and lush head of thick hair made her a stand out on the noble court, and they shared a love of music and dancing. Yani liked that she was a member of the River Tribe for it gave a nuanced look at nobles from a balanced perspective. Ramonda encouraged her to have all her Ladies from the Panther Tribe, but Yani insisted on a mix and asked Marisol and Twyla to be on her team too. It gave her the ability to have eyes and ears in the wider society since Marisol and Twyla moved outside of the palace. Twyla had her professional Eco-Tourism business and Marisol had accepted an invitation to study in the Temple of Bast while also teaching Candomble at the University of Birnin Zana. If the queen had to have a close team, then she wisely chose the best available to her, and Zola and Ilana were her best investment.

Outside of her own family, the two noble women were generous and protective of Yani as they had been trained to do all their lives if they were lucky enough to be chosen by a queen to serve in the palace. The Court of Nobles vied for positions serving the royal family, and the queen's inner circle was the most coveted placement among the women. Not only were they privy to the inner machinations of the royal family, but they were also closer to snatching up partners of high standing. There was a strict vetting process and it took a full six months to get final approval from the council of elders and the king himself. Part of the vetting process had been eye-opening and a little disconcerting to Yani. The Ladies not only served the queen but they were at the beck and call of the king too within his home, and in the past, Wakandan kings often used the women as their concubines and what the elders called "prep women" if the kings were unmarried. The sexual explicitness of what they would do for the king or queen made Yani's face burn, but it was no different than the lifestyle Ayomide and M'Baku lived high up in the mountains.

Yani studied books in their ancient family library that had illustrations and tales from past rulers, and she confessed to Zinzi and Efetobo in their private consultations that she worried that N'Jadaka's enormous sexual appetite could overwhelm her once she became queen, and she was not one to seek out the help of other women. She was too embarrassed to ask Ramonda and Umama how they dealt with their sex lives. Zinzi calmed her fears and reminded her that every generation of rulers decided how they would work out their domestic household, and that the queen had a lot of pull in nixing anything they weren't comfortable with. Shock sat on her face when she was also told that a queen could have male or female lovers if the king were away for a long time. At least they believed in equal favor.

There was no way N'Jadaka would allow another man to dick down his woman while he was gone. In the ancient books, to keep the queen from becoming pregnant from her temporary substitute, male concubines were made to wear prosthetic dicks designed in the shape of the king's phallus so that the queen's vagina would remember her husband. Yani was shown dildos hollowed out from rubbery pieces of wood from antiquity. She could see where her man's dick came down the bloodline. The Udaku's always had girth and heft.

The ancient sexual proclivities fascinated her, and she found herself questioning her moral conservatism. Once, while Dante allowed her to look at one of N'Jadaka's old computer tablets back when he was Erik Killmonger and she was learning about his family in depth, she stumbled across a hidden file of sex vids. Holed up in her suite, she watched Killmonger have intercourse with various women on his travels. Sometimes there were two or three women at a time. The experience of watching him from angles that she never saw had her sweating, and she soaked plenty of panties rewinding images of him cumming and pleasuring other women.

Yani struggled with her confusion as to how she could dread her man finding another woman to cheat with or replace her, and yet get stimulated and wetter than an ocean seeing him have sex with others. Hearing him moan another woman's name and observing his lovers lose it over him forced her fingers between her legs as her clit beat a rhythm that needed satisfying and moaning of her own. She spent hours watching the vids, not only because she missed Killmonger so much, but because her orgasms were explosive imagining him doing all of that in the flesh, right in front of her. Even when he returned and they struggled to reconnect, Yani would sneak peeks at those vids to satisfy her cravings for him.

Preparing to be his wife was an education that allowed her to look within herself and discover that she had more kinks than she realized.

Exhibitionist. Check.

Anal play. Check.

Bratty submissive. Check.

Humiliation kink. Check.

Roleplaying. Check.

Spanking. Check.

Choking. Check.

Cuckquean? Who knew?

As much as she was dead set against sharing N'Jadaka with Disa in any polyamorous royal union, she tried to understand why complete strangers with her man aroused her, and having him be with Disa bothered her so much. Perhaps it was the impersonal nature of the sex he had with those beautiful women around the world. N'Jadaka was simply fucking and being explicit to satisfy his cravings. There was no love or true affection. Truth be told, Yani sometimes enjoyed that fucking energy more than when they made tender love. Something about the way he manhandled women made her pussy jump. Especially when he slapped them for being disobedient.

Yani knew N'Jadaka found Zola and Ilana attractive. They were enamored with him themselves just as everyone was who came into contact with the king. N'Jadaka was bigger than life in person, and he oozed a dangerous charm that held people enthralled. Yani had grown accustomed to his effect on people. It made her feel powerful in his presence because he doted on her openly. Zola and Ilana did the same to Yani, their affectionate and playful manners touched on a strong sisterhood. They loved the idea of a foreign queen ruling. It shook up the elites and made their lives more interesting. Without N'Jadaka saying anything, Zola and Ilana were always the first to go on the defense for Yani if they caught wind of negative gossip toward her. The Queen's Ladies knew the pedigree and secrets of everyone and cut them to the quick if they said one bad thing about her. Marisol, Twyla, and Disa liked them. So did the children. Especially Joba and Riki. This gave Yani the assurance that she had chosen her confidantes well. They wanted N'Jadaka to succeed because they grew up hearing the stories of Prince N'Jobu and were open to being out in the world instead of hiding behind their protective shields ignorant of everything. The new king ushered in the age of far-reaching Wakandan influence and that ignited their passions for the future.

Zola held out a golden jaguar mask that would cover the top half of Yani's face.

"Do not take this off at all tonight," Zola said.

She helped Yani stick it on her face with the sweet-smelling adhesive.

"Those foreign nations need to be captured by your seductive allure and the mystery you represent," Ilana added, touching up Yani's fresh lipstick.

"This is true," Zola said, stepping back to look at the mask, "A powerful king such as ours will have the world by the balls with you standing next to him looking this captivating."

Yani turned to face the large mirror in her dressing room inside of the king's home. She almost gasped herself looking at her reflection. Zola winked at her through the mirror.

"Yes, that is our queen right there."

Ilana lifted the train for the dress with Zola's help as Yani stood to take in all angles of her reflection. She was stunning and she knew it. Tapping a nervous finger on her engagement ring she turned to her Ladies.

"Tonight, after the ball, I will be with the king," Yani said.

Both women lowered their heads at the mention of N'Jadaka from her lips to show respect for her. They slipped on gold cat-claw finger armor on her index and middle fingers. Umama sent her the family heirloom. The long and deadly-looking finger jewelry was an ancient heirloom that belonged to Queen Tiye and Queen Shuriya. Yani was given a week's long lesson on that woman and having items that belonged to queens the entire country admired was a huge deal. The elder Queen mother explained that Yani would set the new standard for how a queen should be, and to never take any interaction for granted.

"I would like for you both to prepare me for him later. He is under a lot of stress and I want him pampered. Understood?"

"Yes, Princess," they answered in unison.

"Leave me," Yani said.

Zola and Ilana departed the room to wait for her in the spacious living room downstairs. She stared at her image again and then sauntered out toward her bed chamber. Heading to her beautifully carved bureau, Yani pulled out N'Jadaka's smoking pipe that she snuck away from his private bar. She lit it up and rested on her bed, allowing the herb to burn a small cloud of smoke before she puffed on it, settling her mind for a long evening representing the entire country. She wasn't the queen yet, but the palace and the press had begun calling her the consort and she had to be on her best for N'Jadaka and the world.

The chemicals in the plant kicked up in her bloodstream and her breathing became deeper, less shallow, and anxious. She closed her eyes and focused on how she would walk, how she would enunciate her Wakandan well, and use the king's good English when necessary. Her mind drifted and she started chanting an old Wakandan proverb she learned that Queen Tiye was credited in writing. Loosely translated it meant "There is power in the walk and the word", but when recited quickly and under duress, it became a verbal narcotic for Yani to decompress whenever she worried about representing so much power. The niggling fears of not being good enough taunted her despite her assertive pushback.

Going out into the ballroom would be another performance, and as a former singer and social media star, Yani knew how to cultivate the image of a woman in control. This would be a performance of a lifetime, her coming out to the world stage. The herb slowed down the whirring in her brain and chipped away at the self-doubt and nervousness. She chanted the first Queen of Wakanda's proverb over and over until she dozed off into a twilight sleep, sinking deeper and deeper…

The scent of burning and black smoke stung Yani first before she even noticed the blazing fire. Acres and acres of lush vegetation went up in a fiery red-orange wave of flames that lit up the landscape and blanketed the blue sky above with encroaching darkness from the belching of acrid smoke. Watching the burning fields, Yani expected to see a powerful dragon sweeping down from the sky and lighting up the world. Instead, she spotted the serene figure of a woman torching the earth with fire as her other hand wielded a sharp blade.

Yani put a hand over her nose as the smoke choked her throat and burned her eyes. She coughed, leaned forward, and spit out fire and smoke from her own mouth. Startled, Yani cried out in fear and the woman turned toward her, iron black hair wild around her head like a crown of ebony flames.

"Come burn this with me, gyal," the woman said.

Yani hesitated. The wind had whipped up the flames to towering heights and the heat increased, ready to lick and scorch her skin.

"Fiyahbun for this, not you," the woman said.

She thrust the torch out toward Yani.

"Come, come…step quick. Yuh know mi…come from mi. I hear yuh sing fuh mi—"

"Queen Mary?" Yani said.

"Mi no stranger to mi own pickney. Come. Burn…."

Yani took hesitant steps, unsure if she was dreaming or high from the herb in N'Jadaka's pipe. It felt real. Smelled real. Looked real.

"Ah dou-dou, step strong. Yuh come from strong people. How yuh 'gon stand with that Big Man on the hill walkin' like that?"

Queen Mary sucked her teeth and Yani changed her pace and ground her bare feet sturdy on the earth.

When she reached Queen Mary, she took the torch from her hand.

"This too," Queen Mary said.

Yani grabbed the long shiny cutlass in her other hand and wasn't surprised to see that Queen Mary still had another torch and cutlass in her grasp.

"Feel that weight, gyal? That's the only weight you should have on you from now on. The Big Man on the Hill needs a queen to be his equal. You are that, hear mi? Burn it all."

Yani touched unburned portions of the field, and despite being in the middle of a raging inferno, the fire never touched or singed their skin. But Yani felt the heat from her greatest grandmother's body and witnessed the flames shining in her dark black eyes. Eyes as black as Sydette's… as black as Joba's.

The smoke swirled into a thick blanket blinding Yani's sight, but she kept walking forward with Queen Mary until they passed through to the other side of a pristine beach with water so clear it that made her weep with longing for her old cove. Queen Mary closed her eyes and took a deep breath before flinging her torch and cutlass into the sea.

"Your turn to carry it, Queen Yani. I will rest and watch yuh for always. Be a big woman now. He 'gon need yuh fierceness when him put new babies in that belly and in your hands…"

Queen Mary reached over and placed a warm and gentle hand across Yani's stomach.

"Time will soon come when him need yuh tuh fight for dem babies, hear mi gyal? Him pickney powerful. Your blood mixed with his is so powerful that even your enemies will fear your children. Go back there now, show the world yuh come from mi. Show them how we cut and burn to the ground anyone opposed to us. You are his fire… his true blade…"

The water shimmered as Queen Mary walked across the top of it, no longer burdened with holding down the line. That was Yani's job and she gripped the torch and cutlass with a new confidence, facing the mighty blaze behind her. Walking back through the fire her body sensed a tugging back into bodily consciousness outside of the spiritual and she bolted up from the bed, her fingers clenched around nothing but air. But the sensation of the blade and torch were still there in her grasp. Glancing at her kimoyo, she knew she was late meeting N'Jadaka. She stepped off the bed and rolled her shoulders.

Show time.

N'Jadaka waited for Yani out at the entrance of the bridge. She was running late, so he parked himself between both palace structures to give her fifteen more minutes before he graced his foreign guests with his presence. From the reports inside the ballroom, the attendees were having a grand old time although they were breathless with anticipation to see the king of Wakanda in all his glory.

The doors to the East Palace bridge entrance swung open and a set of Doras with four Ladies-in-Waiting flanked Yani who made his heart lurch when he saw her fully.

"Fuck," he gasped under his breath.

Marisol and Twyla made up two of the four ladies accompanying Yani and they grinned with knowing at the expression on his face. Even his personal guards made unintelligible sounds with their mouths when the vision of a new-era queen stepped into their midst.

The deep cobalt blue of her gown stole the richest hue of the waters back in St. Thomas. Her lace hood rested across the top of her head but the upper half of her face was covered in a bright gold jaguar lace face mask that enhanced the cat-like appearance she was going for. It was designed exactly the way his Umama's decorative jaguar mask looked, with the sharp cat ears laced with saffron diamonds. The tight corset made the tops of her breasts look like lush fruit while the rest of the gown had a long train that the two extra ladies-in-waiting watched out for as it swept behind Yani a good ten feet long. N'Jadaka's betrothal beads sat snug on her waist and hips.

Stunning burgundy lipstick with gold flecks at the center displayed Yani's plump lips, and her eyes dazzled everyone who gazed at her.

A queen.

N'Jadaka couldn't move. The air had been knocked out of his chest harder than a punch from an enemy. Everyone around them stood in stunned silence and stared at his fiancé with the masked mystique. There was an aura about her that his intuition told him was spiritual in nature. Yani stood in all of her glory, but she also stood on the shoulders of Queen Mary. That energy radiated from her thick and blazing, and it was enough to make Ogum smack N'Jadaka in the back of the head with Bast kicking him in the shin, lowering his right knee for him as he brought himself low to the ground. Holding out a hand towards her, he seized the moment to show the others the love and respect he had for her.

"Queen Yani N'Isiqithi, may I have the honor of escorting you to our first formal gathering together?" he asked.

"You may," she said, holding out her hand.

Most of her long nails sparkled with the colors of the sea with blue crystals at the tips. Fierce-looking finger armor covered the rest. He clasped her hand in his and lifted up from his knee, tucking her warm fingers into the crook of his arm. Chaperones be damned, he was holding his wife's hand.

Wife.

He paused and looked down into her eyes encased in the exquisite golden half-mask. This woman was his wife. The mother of his children. The woman who held him down from the moment she agreed to be his. His sly and mouthy island girl. The one who could bring him to his knees with just a touch from her hand and a twist of her lips. N'Jadaka was ready to show her off to the world. Two diaspora babies came home to the motherland to rule it together.

He grinned. Oh, to go back in time to the cove on his first day in St. Thomas. To see her naked and swimming in liquid heaven. To know that the moment he heard her voice and laid eyes on her that she was the one to stand with him there. His heart overflowed and he patted her wrist.

"Let's go show these people royalty," he said.

Across the bridge waiting for them, royal drummers kicked off a loud rumble that would announce to the guests that the king had arrived.

"Baby, there will be wolves in sheep's clothing among the crowd," he whispered to her as they traipsed the bridge and stepped into the West Palace.

"I am prepared for them," she said.

N'Jadaka looked at Yani. Her voice sounded different. Fierce. It came out sharp like an oyster knife ready to peel away the soft flesh of mollusks. Her pace matched his and there was a synergy coursing between them that was as thick as a Wakandan winter stew. They were evenly yoked as his Nana would say. She carried a warrior spirit in her steps.

Yani glanced up into his eyes and the sparkle of light from the hall lamps leading to the grand ballroom flickered like torch flames. Ogum shifted in his chest and Bast leaned on his head harder recognizing the power of her ancestors within her.

Lifting his left hand, N'Jadaka greeted T'Challa who waited for them in front of the entrance of the ballroom. Heavily guarded, security was tighter than normal. The thumping of music bled through the doors.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Always," Yani responded.

The giant doors were opened and they were ushered to the top of the stairs that led down to the merriment below. One thousand people stopped dancing, speaking, eating, and drinking right where they stood just to stare up at the top of the landing to gaze upon the dazzling image of King N'Jadaka and his Queen-to-be Yani. He held out Yani's hand to offer her a resting balance as they took their time coming down the steep stairs. Their titles were announced as the royal orchestra played the Wakandan National Anthem with their steps.

N'Jadaka escorted Yani around the polished floor in a wide circle so that all the guests could see them. They rounded the final curve and faced an eager audience that salivated at the sight of them before a roar of applause erupted. T'Challa stood to N'Jadaka's left, his lighter blue robes complimenting the king's outfit. The applause washed over them for eight minutes straight. Yani leaned into him and whispered, "They are hungry for your grace, kumkani."

"Let's give them a show," he said back to her.

He lifted Yani's hand higher and waved a hand for her to step forward and take more of the applause for herself. She took a graceful step forward and hundreds of Wakandan nobles began clapping and singing out Yani's name with pride in their voices. No one had ever seen a consort like her before in all of Africa. He made out a chant that they echoed throughout the ballroom. The Golden Jaguar Queen. N'Jadaka swept his gaze around the entire room. The energy was electrifying. He eased away from Yani to give her more attention and the chanting grew stronger, picked up on by the other foreign guests.

Yani had star power. The grace in her walk and the seductive twist in her hips hypnotized the people there. He would use it to his advantage. She knew she was a weapon and preened before the crowd, accepting their adoration. Holding up his hand to calm the audience, the orchestra kicked into the first real Wakandan waltz of the evening with the sounds of bright horns heralding the arrival of the king. As the thumps from a bass drum pulled in the full percussive section, N'Jadaka slipped his arm around Yani's lower back and also clasped her hand.

They had practiced together sporadically when his schedule permitted, but their times together in St. Thomas dancing around the beach, inside their home, or in the privacy of their old bedroom made their coming together seamless and unrushed. Yani gripped his shoulder and relaxed into his lead hand and he spun her out onto the middle of the ballroom. No one outside of the country had ever seen a Wakandan waltz, but to the king, it was an easy transition from learning how to two-step from his grandfather. He already had the natural dancing gifts of his mother, Califia, and the magnetic grace of his father, N'Jobu, but having Yani on his arm elevated the spectatorship. Yani added sways and small dips that brought him back to Juvay, and he contributed his own touches in his hips and feet from Brazil. The diaspora styles melded with the Wakandan steps. As the drum beats dropped away from a section of the music and the triumphant horns peppered the air, N'Jadaka broke away from Yani and circled around her as the dance called for him to do, and she gathered up the hem of her dress to allow herself to wind her hips and dropped her body low in time to the measured tones of the soulful, full-bodied sound. Her Ladies-in-Waiting, Zola, and Ilana joined with Twyla and Marisol chanting out a call and response that other Wakandan nobles bounced back to them around the ballroom, adding another texture to the mid-tempo orchestral music.

Yani rolled her shoulders and spun around toward the center audience and body rolled her curves, raising her arms in the air as if she were conducting the horns. She spun back around toward him and he was right there to clasp her hand and guide her around the floor once more as the train of her dress looked like a waterfall spilling from her hips. They were joined by other partnered nobles who recognized the signal move to join the king and his betrothed. At least one hundred of the nobles present, who were of the upper echelon in status, were allowed to dance with them. They lined themselves around the king and Yani, moving in tandem to ancient ritualized steps that N'Jadaka had already shown the audience. As all the Wakandan men stepped away from their partners, several women added the new flair that Yani introduced, winding their hips and bending their knees low.

When all the women had their hands in the air like his future queen, N'Jadaka knew that Yani had shifted the culture publicly. The heavenly sounds of strings and harps cued the men for their solo dance moves as the women stood to the side with their hands on their hips in an exaggerated fashion. N'Jadaka took that as a sign for him to cut up in front of everyone. The men around him on the floor gave their best to keep the women from upstaging their king, unfortunately, Yani's demeanor, her dynamic appearance, and the internal swag she carried like body armor rose up like a storm and the women followed her lead and stalked past the men to form the opposing line that became a dance battle as the sexes faced off against one another to execute polished steps. It was over for the men once Yani started dusting her shoulders and the women followed that example by bobbing their heads in a challenging fashion as if to say, "'Sup nigga, whatchu got now?"

N'Jadaka raised his arms up and down to pump up the men and they fell into exquisitely choreographed legwork. He had never been in a fraternity ever, but the king stepped as if he went to an HBCU. The men threw down, exciting the foreign guests. Their flying arms, jumping legs, and the practiced, exaggerated turns of their heads as they raised their communal gaze skyward to welcome their ancient forebears aroused pride in N'Jadaka. He was a Wakandan king and the world would never ever see another like him again until one of his children ascended the throne. He caught a glimpse of Umama, Baba Z, Dante, and Ramonda sitting up high in private seating above the orchestra. Their bird's eye view made him feel good…watched over. Umama and Dante held their hands up waving to the music. In another protected section sat Marisol, Twyla, Zola, and Ilana who watched over Yani, ready to spring into action if she needed anything.

The dancers made all the turns around the floor that went with the music and his favorite part came up next that headed them to the home stretch…the stroll. It was a cool-down the heart rate move that allowed the men to prance one final time as they went to retrieve their partners with a dramatic flourish.

"You betta strut Big Nigga!" Twyla shouted from above.

N'Jadaka dipped his shoulders and pumped out his elbows as he slowly stepped to Yani. She had her hands on her hips and kept her head tilted in a haughty manner. All the woman thrust their chests and shoulders in time to the music awaiting their menfolk.

"Get your queen, kumkani!"

Umama's voice egged him on and he grinned, flashing Yani his dimples. Crispy horns picked back up like a clarion call to greatness. N'Jadaka lived in the moment, twisting his hips and bouncing his shoulders with aplomb. The energy from the men backing him up with bravado flowed through him as he inched his way to his woman.

He stopped in mid-step, staring at Yani for a split second before shaking his head. The music swelled all around him and nudged him to keep stepping, but N'Jadaka could've sworn Yani held a torch and machete in her hands. He blinked and her hands were still on her hips, daring him to be bold enough to take her.

N'Jadaka moved closer so that his body rubbed up against hers and he ran his hands down her shoulders, linking their pinky fingers together while he kissed her cheek in front of the entire gathering. Applause broke out and the nobles made space for the king and his queen to leave the dance floor first. The other elites in the room chanted his name and Yani's, forcing the first smile from Yani that wasn't directed at him. Instead of clasping his hand as they had practiced to walk back to the receiving line in time to the final horn blowing, Yani slid her armored index finger up his chest and pranced around him in a circle before lifting up her hand in a dainty fashion waiting for him to come to her first as she walked away a good three feet.

The Wakandan women howled and stomped their heels, ululations flew over their heads, and the cackle of his own grandmother floated down to tease him of the audacity they were all witnessing.

A queen putting her king in his place?

Never one to ever feel belittled by women he loved all his life, N'Jadaka slid his hands over his perfectly braided locs and swaggered over to Yani with such powerful strides that she immediately acquiesced the moment he towered over her and pulled her head back. He bared his teeth and his betrothed caved first by lowering her eyes from the heat blazing in his.

Yani moved her head from side to side and N'Jadaka kept his eyes on hers, moving his head to thwart her attempts to look away. She stepped backward and he kept walking forward, shepherding her into her rightful position on the receiving line. The waltz music tapered off slowly as Yani lifted her head and pressed her lips against his in complete submission, the eroticism of the moment not lost to the audience.

T'Challa met them on the side, his eyes and neck on constant swivel mode. He leaned in toward the king.

"Cousin, you have given the nobles something to talk about for the rest of the years to come," T'Challa said. "Do you need a break before the meet and greet?"

N'Jadaka shook his head and pulled Yani closer to him.

"Nah, let's feel these people out. You good, baby?"

Yani nodded, unable to speak or keep her eyes off of him.

The orchestra played the greeting march, where the foreign heads of state would walk up to meet the king and consort formally. N'Jadaka tapped an earbud where he could listen to his team fill him in on who was who and to also remind him of anything important to keep any blunders from occurring. He looked down at Yani again.

"You were swinging, girl."

"So were you."

"Do I look sweaty?"

"No. You look very handsome."

Yani reached up and wiped his lips from some of the glitter of her lipstick where she kissed him. Leaders were brought forward and introduced through T'Challa. He was most familiar with many guests from his time of rule. N'Jadaka puffed up his chest and minded his words. Yani became a gracious hostess, saying very little and only offering her hand to a select few to shake when she felt it was necessary. Everyone wanted to talk to her…stare at her up close, but T'Challa and the Doras kept the receiving line moving. She stayed friendly and open to the women and distant to the men, establishing a firm barrier of who could approach her. A soft squeeze or a heavy grip on his arm told N'Jadaka who she was comfortable with, and he stayed vigilant in moving along pushy leaders.

"The President and Prime Minister of Mohannda are up next after this group," T'Challa forewarned as the President and Secretary of State of a small African nation N'Jadaka helped destabilize in Special Forces approached him. Ogum tickled his senses and he rubbed his arm against Yani's to let her know he needed her charms even more.

"We are honored to have this opportunity here in Wakanda with you, King N'Jadaka."

The president was a squat, heavy-set man with a shiny balding head and a British-educated accent.

"Thank you for being here President Obiang. I hope your time among us has been pleasant," N'Jadaka said.

Obiang turned to the statuesque woman next to him who looked like she was ready to scratch the man's eyes out.

"King N'Jadaka, may I introduce to you our Secretary of State—"

"Madame Sacha Furaha. I am truly honored to meet you," N'Jadaka said.

It was less than a decade since he had ever laid eyes on her during a covert mission where he helped kill a brutal dictator. Sacha had sought the presidency after the assassination of her husband who staged a progressive coup to lead their country into true democracy. N'Jadaka was part of the Black Ops team that threw Sacha's husband's murderer out of a chopper right before the C.I.A. helped put in another puppet dictator. He spent several years making discreet, off-the-grid donations to her run for the presidency. The smile on his face showed he was pleased that she had at least made inroads into higher power within her country. His openness startled her, and Obiang. Yani interjected with her sweet voice.

"Madame Furaha, I have been so impressed with your work on the U.N. child advocacy program. I would love to speak with you at a later date about co-paneling a talk for the East African Health Summit this winter," Yani said.

Obiang and Sacha regarded Yani with open-faced wonder.

"King N'Jadaka has been keeping me abreast of West African nations that support world health issues for mothers and babies, and my work with the UDC is about to expand next year. I'm so happy that you were able to come to Wakanda so I could meet you in person."

Yani patted N'Jadaka's arm, giving the conversation back to him. He studied Obiang's face to see if the entry point he needed to connect with Sacha publicly was acceptable.

"I am so surprised and pleased that you would like to contact me in the future Princess Yani. I didn't know King N'Jadaka was aware of my work," Sacha said.

Obiang chomped at the bit to be included in the conversation. Lines appeared on his forehead and his jaw became tight. N'Jadaka made eye contact with Sacha.

"Princess Yani is a strong advocate for maternal health. I'll have her set up a time for you both to speak before your departure on Sunday," N'Jadaka said.

He gave Yani a look and she offered her hand to Sacha.

"I look forward to meeting you again soon," Yani said.

Sacha shook Yani's hand gently and seemed touched when the princess placed her other hand on top in a sign of true sincerity. N'Jadaka regarded the president once more.

"President Obiang, it's been a pleasure. Thank you both for being here…"

T'Challa ushered them along and Obiang glanced back trying to get N'Jadaka's attention for more speaking time, but the king of Wakanda looked away.

"Smooth as silk, Yani," N'Jadaka said.

He rubbed her lower back

"I'm sure you'll tell me later what that was all about," she said.

"Yep. For now, just know that you have blessed Sacha with the upper hand. Obiang knows that she has favor with you and will give her more leeway in their country because he sees that I talk to you about world affairs. He wants to get to me but can only do so through her at this moment. That'll keep him from sacking her. They're political rivals and their country is in turmoil again."

"Tell me what you want from her and I will get it."

"I know you will," he said, lowering his mouth near her ear. "If it all goes the way I want with your help, you and I just met the new President who will replace Obiang in their next election. I owe her," N'Jadaka said.

"N'Jadaka…" T'Challa whispered.

President Mubiri of Mohannda took hard footsteps to approach N'Jadaka. He wore an imposing military uniform decorated with plenty of colorful chest candy denoting his high ranking. All of his stars and bars indicated years of being in the Mohanndan service. Mubiri carried the ferocious energy of a warlord hellbent on bending Wakanda to his will. Tall, paunchy in the belly but strong in the chest, the dark brown skin and thick dark beard sprinkled with a few grays that defied the obvious dye job didn't take away from his formidable presence. Mubiri's Prime Minister had the long face and demeanor of an angry ram ready to butt heads with N'Jadaka at a moment's notice. Unlike the other guests, the men had their wives walking behind them. Their shiny eyes peered over their husbands' shoulders dying to get a look at Yani and him.

Yani shifted her feet and pressed her warmth into N'Jadaka's side. Mubiri had her a tad anxious, even more so when T'Challa narrowed the distance between himself and his king.

"President Mubiri, welcome," N'Jadaka said, extending his hand.

Mubiri glanced down at the friendly offer as if the Wakandan king carried shit on his hands, but he clasped sturdy fingers over N'Jadaka's and pumped them up and down pretending that he was pleased to meet him. N'Jadaka dropped his hand and turned his attention to the second sour-faced man.

"Prime Minister Ony…gentlemen, First Lady Mubiri and Lady Ony, this is my betrothed, Princess Yani," N'Jadaka said.

Both men regarded Yani with open, hateful lust, but gave her forced smiles. Their wives kept quiet but held their gaze on Wakandan royalty. The tension was excruciating. Even the Doras glared at the men ready to lift their sonic spears if the king gave a cursory signal to destroy them.

Hate.

The male Mohannda delegation hated Wakandans down to the marrow of their bones. It was little wonder they were in cahoots with Niganda to try and bring down the kingdom that had always bested them for thousands of years. Their hatred extended out from them like sharp claws against N'Jadaka's skin.

"We have observed many amazing sights in your country King N'Jadaka, but I do believe I have never seen anything lovelier than this woman next to you. Princess Yani, I enjoyed watching you during the waltz. I myself am not much of a dancer, but I would so like to share a dance with you later this evening… with the king's permission of course," Mubiri said in a softer tone.

The slick words were intended to get N'Jadaka's hackles up, but he ignored the attempt. Yani simply looked over the president's shoulder toward the next foreign guests waiting to meet the king. The slight made Mubiri's smile slide open wider revealing overly whitened teeth. He wasn't accustomed to being ignored by a woman. Ony cleared his throat and tried to wrangle Yani's attention back to them.

"My love, the other guests are waiting," Yani said, touching an ear on her jaguar mask.

"Enjoy the rest of your evening," N'Jadaka said.

Yani pretended to be bored and glanced at the audience instead of the Mohanndans. Mubiri and Ony moved away in a huff.

"Lady Ony, Madame Mubiri, I love your headwraps. The colors are beautiful," Yani said as the women crossed her path behind their husbands.

Both women stopped and gawked at Yani, pleased that she had spoken to them.

"Thank you so much, Princess Yani. Your dress is gorgeous and your staff has been wonderful. We loved the flowers your office sent to our accommodations," Madame Mubiri said, her words gushing out like a thrilled teenager instead of a middle-aged woman.

President Mubiri spoke harsh words in Mohanndan under his breath and his wife scurried away from Yani with Lady Ony at her side.

"You sent them flowers?" N'Jadaka asked.

"Mmhmm. I had my staff deliver bouquets to all the women dignitaries from the royal garden. The new blooms are in and they will never have an opportunity to see the variety of species we have this fresh."

T'Challa leaned into N'Jadaka.

"President Kojo Tetteh and the First Lady of Ghana are next," T'Challa said.

N'Jadaka looked into his cousin's eyes because his voice sounded tight and on the defensive. He glanced at the approaching couple and his stomach dropped.

"Oh shit," N'Jadaka said a little too loud.

Yani turned her head to see what the fuss was about and N'Jadaka braced himself to not give away anything when his former lover—and T'Challa's—sauntered their way with her popular husband.

Princess Vivienne Grimaldo, nee First Lady Vivienne Tettah still had her golden almond skin and the silky black tresses that made her a knockout. There were a few age lines near her mouth and the corner of her eyes, proof of her Monacan French heritage from her father's side of the family, but she carried the glimmers of her Senegalese heritage with her beauty.

President Tettah plastered a generous smile across his thick lips and paused in his steps when his wife halted suddenly and stared at the king.

"Erik Stevens?" Vivienne blurted in shock.

T'Challa fixed his attention on N'Jadaka as a slowly dawning realization crawled across his face.

"You're that Erik?" T'Challa said.

"What's going on?" Yani asked.

N'Jadaka calmed the worry in her voice by squeezing her hand that brushed against his. T'Challa recovered quickly and shifted his body toward his cousin.

"Kumkani, may I present to you…President Tettah and First Lady Vivienne Tettah," T'Challa said.

N'Jadaka offered his hand to Tettah while his wife drilled holes into his face with her brash stare.

"Pleased to finally make your acquaintance King N'Jadaka," Tettah said.

Vivienne tossed her head back, laughed out loud, and then clapped her hands together, bouncing her gaze between the two Wakandan cousins.

"I knew it! I knew it!" Vivienne cackled.

She clutched at her husband's wide arm.

"Darling, I met Erik years ago when I dated T'Challa in university. He worked for Tony Stark when he was still a teenager and visited the palace. He went from an intern to a king. What a remarkably small world!"

Vivienne reached out and gave T'Challa air kisses on both cheeks and stood back next to Tettah catching her breath from the fast clip of her words. She couldn't hide the gleam in her excited eyes from watching his every move. Tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear, Vivienne had a difficult time trying to stay cool and collected in front of him with her husband in the mix.

"My God, you look amazing Erik…pardonne-moi… King N'Jadaka."

"May I introduce my fiancé, Princess Yani," N'Jadaka said, maintaining his calm exterior.

Yani stared at Vivienne whose overbearing familiarity broke protocols.

"Welcome to Wakanda," Yani said to Tettah in formal Wakandan.

She held up her hand and tilted her wrist. Tettah snapped up the opportunity to touch Yani, unlike other men who were on the receiving line. Once he cradled her hand, his entire disposition and focus shifted. Vivienne watched her husband turn into a heart-eyed fan gazing into Yani's eyes. A smirk washed over her lips as she admired Yani's attire and half-mask.

"You are so beautiful, Princess Yani. Congratulations on your engagement to the king," Vivienne said.

Yani looked at N'Jadaka and he smiled. She was going to pretend to not understand English to catch him in some mess. Her keen observational skills caught the awkwardness of T'Challa and his own stilted interaction. He spoke to her in Wakandan, playing along with her charade.

"Thank you," Yani said in English, taking in the First Lady's demeanor with proper reserve.

Vivienne studied Yani from head to toe before settling on N'Jadaka again.

"Do you keep in touch with Tony? We ran into him last year in Europe," Vivienne said.

"No."

The curtness in his voice made Vivienne lift an eyebrow in surprise.

"He still talks about you. Did he even know you were royalty back then?"

"Please forgive my wife, King N'Jadaka, we do not want to take up too much time in the line," Tettah said, growing uncomfortable with his wife's informal behavior.

Vivienne glared at her husband, then glanced at T'Challa and N'Jadaka.

"My husband is right. We can catch up later on tonight. Princess Yani, I would love for you to visit Ghana for high tea. My oldest daughter is attending boarding school in the fall and I'm planning a wonderful send-off with other First Ladies in our region," Vivienne said.

N'Jadaka wasted time translating again and Yani nodded in feigned understanding, then offered her hand to Vivienne.

"Wonderful, wonderful! I have so many questions for you and I would love to be considered for any outreach you are planning in West Africa. I also have some pull in Monaco through my family. I am at your disposal. Wakanda is the future of the continent and Ghana is ready to support you on the world stage."

N'Jadaka continued translating.

"Agreed!" Tettah said, still under Yani's spell. "Ghana was the first African nation to free itself from the yoke of colonization. We were a great example for the rest of the colonized. But today, Wakanda will liberate us from the West forever. God willing."

T'Challa placed his hand on Tettah's shoulder and held out the other to show them past the king. Vivienne walked away giddy and N'Jadaka took a deep breath.

"I see chapters of our lives overlapped," T'Challa said with a grin on his face.

"She is a princess?" Yani asked.

N'Jadaka nodded. T'Challa swiped a nervous hand over his forehead.

"A princess and my ex. Thank Bast Nakia wasn't here. Those two hated each other," T'Challa said.

"Did N'Jadaka sleep with her after you broke up?" Yani asked.

N'Jadaka coughed. T'Challa's face went blank.

Yani slid her arm around N'Jadaka's as the last groups of dignitaries queued up to meet them.

"Both of you looked funny when she approached us, and I can always tell when N'Jadaka has messed around with a woman. He can't hide nothin' on his face when it comes to his dick," Yani said.

T'Challa and N'Jadaka both coughed loudly to drown out Yani's words as the President and First Lady of Angola greeted them. N'Jadaka was happy to speak Portuguese and move past any more Vivienne inquiries. Every few seconds T'Challa would look at him and they would both fight back the giggles that rested in their guts. There was nothing worse than an old baddie showing up in front of your woman. N'Jadaka handled himself with dignity and Yani seemed more amused than annoyed by once again having his past thrown in her face. It wasn't his fault that an old jump-off married a president invited to the king's ball.

Glancing over to the west side of the ballroom, he noticed Vivienne looking flustered as she gulped down a large glass of champagne. Scanning the guests, all eyes were on him and Yani. He shook hands with his final guests and guided Yani by her elbow to their front table. The orchestra sprang into action and hundreds flocked to the giant dance floor. Zola and Ilana brought them drinks and snacks as Marisol and Twyla took their new seats beside them to observe the excitement in the room.

Every foreign guest was drunk with the enchantment of Wakanda.

N'Jadaka and Yani nibbled on tasty finger foods and the best wines brought in from Birnin S'Yan. T'Challa stood at attention overseeing their safety. When she was ready, N'Jadaka escorted Yani around to mingle with the nobles and spend more time chatting with guests she liked. Her Ladies-in-Waiting cocooned her in a protective half-circle while she spoke with the high society who adored her and shunned the ones who wished her ill. He watched Zola and Ilana whisper in her ear. It pleased him to see that two of the most beautiful women of the elite were at their service. Their eyes were always coquettish and slightly downcast when he gazed at them directly, but they hid none of their fawning over his princess. They doted on her and cherished every second spent with their new queen. Smitten with her island ways and warmth, Zola and Ilana became Yani's champions. They cultivated a careful friendship with her that moved into a closeness that made N'Jadaka feel at ease in his heart. Yani wanted and needed more friends in Wakanda. Disa had her own life and Twyla was a busy married woman. Marisol spent more time at the Temple of Bast and away from the palace, and this left Yani alone most days. Zola and Ilana helped Yani transition back to the palace from her lake villa and he was grateful for that.

He watched them laugh together, hold hands, and gossip like old hens. It gave him the peace of mind to leave the country and know that she was cared for by women who wanted her to win with pure hearts. Zola and Ilana became his home assistants as he also made the adjustment of preparing for life as a married man with a house full of women who catered to his whims and spoiled his wife. Yani earned that soft life. The Ladies managed every aspect of Yani's day. From coordinating her daily outfits, doing her hair and make-up, preparing her baths, and organizing her social affairs in and outside the palace, their impact maintained Yani's life as a well-oiled machine. They kept in constant contact with N'Jadaka's personal assistants in the West Palace to coordinate any appearances with Yani out in public. They were her messengers and spies. Most days it felt like having a second set of Doras guarding his wife.

"She is really something."

The voice near his ear was full of admiration, but N'Jadaka put up mental defenses.

Mubiri sipped on a glass of plum liquor and his eyes darted about to see how close the Doras and T'Challa stood from their king. N'Jadaka had no fear of anyone in the ballroom. They would be obliterated the moment they attempted anything, probably by his hands rather than anyone else. The joke floating throughout the palace was that the Doras were there to protect people from N'Jadaka rather than the other way around.

Yani had passed by a group of nobles and headed to another area with her entourage to speak to other guests that fluttered around her like butterflies seeking nectar. He couldn't stop staring at her himself. An elegance shrouded her with so many admirers.

"How did a hard brute like you ensnare a beauty such as that one, eh?"

Mubiri swirled the strong liquor in his glass waiting for N'Jadaka to answer.

"She likes a roughneck with plenty of finesse I guess."

"Finesse indeed, because for the life of my dearly departed mother, I cannot imagine how you were able to take the throne of Wakanda."

"I am an Udaku. That's how."

"The most dangerous one they've ever had," Mubiri said, chugging down the last of his drink.

N'Jadaka shrugged and cut his eyes toward Mubiri's Prime Minister. Ony slinked over, blocking the view of Yani. T'Challa lingered within earshot.

"I will not mince words, King N'Jadaka. Our countries are enemies—"

"Tell me how you really feel—"

"Do not stand here and hide your disdain with smug remarks," Mubiri hissed.

T'Challa stepped forward and N'Jadaka jerked his head for him to fall back.

"Listen, Mubiri, you can hate my country all you want, but you'll never have us under your thumb, no matter how much you whine like a bitch to the U.N. and Niganda."

Ony thrust his chest out and barked, "Watch your tongue!"

A few guests turned their way and N'Jadaka pretended to laugh at a joke and slapped a strong hand on Ony's back.

"Your land claims are bullshit, just like Niganda's. And don't think I'm not aware of all the trash-talking you've been doing to the U.S. Vice President. You've seen what my country has. No other nation can defeat us. I suggest you mind your business and be grateful I'm not like y'all, bullying other countries to make myself look tough. I could easily come up with my own land claims and take back an entire shoreline on your coast if I felt like it. My great grandparents from way back were generous in not wiping your people out…expanding Wakanda when your country conducted raids to steal our women to repopulate your nation. Centuries of wars you've started have made you weak, stupid, and desperate," N'Jadaka spat out with an acidic tongue.

A bitter laugh flew from Mubiri's mouth and he sneered at T'Challa.

"It's only a matter of time before the shine of your country wears off. There are forces coming together to put you in your place. All I have to do is sit back and watch," Mubiri growled through clenched teeth.

N'Jadaka rolled his neck and took a bold step so that he was face to face with his enemy neighbor.

"Think I won't whoop your ass in front of all these people?"

"President Mubiri, I do believe you asked for a dance earlier."

Mubiri jumped at the touch of Yani's hand on his arm. He stepped aside giving the princess room to stand with them.

"Princess Yani," Mubiri said, becoming flustered with her presence.

Yani glanced at N'Jadaka, already sensing that he was ready to throw hands. The man talked tough trying to see if a new king could be bullied, and N'Jadaka was not giving him any satisfaction. T'Challa would've maintained a polite control, but the son of Califia was about that life and he didn't care if he made an international incident in his own home.

Yani deescalated the tension and disarmed Mubiri with gentle fingers clasping his calloused hands and pulling him toward the dance floor. Ony followed them to watch and T'Challa nudged N'Jadaka's arm.

"We should keep Yani around all the time. He's like a candle doused with water now," T'Challa said.

N'Jadaka kept an eye on Yani. She made a power move to defang Mubiri before her king showed out and spoiled the jovial mood in the ballroom. In a corner, the president of Niganda watched him, ready to pounce if the Mohannda delegation became bold in public.

"I'll let her work her magic," N'Jadaka said.

The king of Wakanda's mouth was in the shape of a weapon, and Yani recognized the signs that he was about to break another man in half. It was the way his shoulders tilted forward and his leg stance grew wide. Visibly he looked like a king cobra snake in attack mode and the rattle drew her attention to him.

A heaviness in Yani's hands reminded her of the words of Queen Mary and she clucked her tongue and her entourage gathered behind her as she moved like a cool wind across the ballroom. Eyes fell upon her trek toward the king and the circle of venomous men who surrounded him doing a poor job of keeping their voices down. Her confident strides had her gliding like an angelic vision in front of a thousand eyes. Having her Ladies-in-Waiting backing her up gave her presence added weight of a queendom on the come-up.

The sharp glint of N'Jadaka's gold teeth warned of bloodshed. Yani slid a soft touch onto Mubiri's silk sleeve. Wakanda's king glanced at her and the eyes watching her held others in his gaze. She arrived in a nick of time.

The tension in Mubiri's arm liquefied under her hand. She curled her fingers around the snarling wolf and pulled him away from N'Jadaka.

"President Mubiri, I do believe you asked for a dance earlier."

With her free hand, Yani dismissed her Ladies as Mubiri conceded her lead and followed her steps toward the dance floor. The orchestra played a wonderfully playful song that didn't require a lot of movement, so they swayed to the sounds keeping the proper bodily distance that prevented them from being pressed together, but close enough to speak privately.

"Have you been enjoying the ball?" Yani asked.

"More so now that we get to share a dance, princess. Wakanda is a wonder of the modern world—"

"You hate us."

Her words lingered in the air and Mubiri chuckled under his breath.

"My ire is not with you, Princess Yani, nor the Wakandan people at large. Your ruling family has never been fair to Mohannda nor Niganda."

"Correct me if I am wrong, President Mubiri, but your country signed treaties with Wakanda a long time ago and then broke them over and over again for centuries. How can you expect our people to trust you when you stab us in the back all the time?"

Mubiri's eyes narrowed and his hand on her back jammed harder into her fancy corset.

"Women shouldn't speak on politics. It is not becoming."

"I'm not just any woman. I am the king's consort. Threats against the royal family mean that your hate is directed at my children. N'Jadaka and I share three beautiful heirs."

Yani ran her left hand away from Mubiri's elbow and inched her index and middle finger up along his arm towards his neck, tracing the sharp points of her finger armor onto his visible skin. She pushed the points of the armor into the soft flesh that protected his carotid artery.

"King N'Jadaka's grandmother gave me these beautiful pieces of finger jewelry. Did you know that in ancient times, Wakandan queens wore poison-tipped claws on every finger? If they were ever captured or kidnapped, they could puncture the skin of their enemy and kill them within ten seconds without anyone knowing what happened. Blink, and yuh dead. This set I have on belonged to Queen Tiye, the first queen of Wakanda. Queen Mother said there's still poison inside these tips. There's a teeny, tiny triggering mechanism that works on how much pressure I apply…see how I have them jabbed in your throat? One slight move and a deadly liquid, like snake venom, could be released into your vein and stop your heart from beating."

Mubiri swallowed, and his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat. His body became stiff and his breath shallow. Yani gave him a wide smile.

"I know men like to act all tough with one another, but hear mi man, I tell yuh this one time. Yuh come for mi king and I will come fuh you. Understand?"

"This is not right. You physically threaten a president in public?" Mubiri sputtered.

His lips turned into a snarl as irritation poured across his facial expression.

"Threaten mi blood and I will burn your whole country down. Don't test we…got it? It's better to get that message from me all quiet and polite rather than losing your life in a nasty way in front of all of these people by his hand."

A gleam spread in Mubiri's eyes. Whatever sourness had been there switched into something like secret laudation.

"Charming…beautiful…deadly," Mubiri uttered with a stronger breath.

He pulled her deadly fingers away from his neck, careful not to get poked by accident.

"If your betrothal doesn't work out Princess Yani, look me up. I could use a second wife like you."

"I don't walk behind my husband."

"I would have you in front of me… a tigress leading me."

"I belong to the Panther Tribe and to that king over there," Yani said, glancing over at N'Jadaka who regarded her with serious interest.

Mubiri cradled her hand and lowered his face to kiss the fragrant skin above her knuckles. His lips lingered a little too long and when he released her hand, his eyes shined with arousal.

"I should like to have had you scratch me with one of those claws, just to experience your wrath. Another time then, hmmm? King N'Jadaka is a lucky man indeed. I look forward to seeing you crowned their queen. You are quite a jewel in their treasure trove."

Yani wiped the back of her hand on her dress and sought out the company of the Council of Elders as she made her rounds again to greet honored guests at their tables. Mubiri stayed away from N'Jadaka and mingled with other presidents.

"W'happen?" Twyla asked once they were away from the dance floor.

Yani took deep breaths to control the anger that rested in her belly. No matter where they were in the world, men would always try to gain access to women for their own use.

"I let that man know that I would kill him if he threatened my family again," Yani said.

"He threatened you?" Marisol said, slamming down her glass of champagne.

Yani pulled Marisol back from throwing hands on her behalf. Zola and Ilana stared at her flabbergasted. Flashing her finger armor at them, gesturing for them to move in closer, all the women circled around to keep prying eyes and ears away.

"The Mohanndans and the Nigandans aren't hiding their hands at all. I told President Mubiri I would burn his country down myself if him harm the royal family."

Twyla covered her mouth to stifle a giggle.

Ilana shook her head in a daze.

"The Mohanndans are very sexist and mean. They treat their women like we are still in the stone age. Princess Yani, this will harm your pristine reputation with those people. He could use your threat as grounds for more aggression," Ilana said.

"That wasteman told me he would marry me if N'Jadaka doesn't. I don't think he's worried about ruining my reputation… more like enhancing his. He's an ass."

"What will you tell the king?" Zola asked.

Ilana and Zola had stress lines on their foreheads and chewed on their lips that were twisted up in concern.

"I will say nothing here unless he asks," Yani said.

"What do we do now?" Marisol asked.

"For now, I'll continue to socialize. But all of you keep your guard up. I have a feeling Mubiri and others are checking for new allies here who are against N'Jadaka's rule."

Yani studied the ballroom layout and took note of the groupings of countries based on regions and common interests. She squared her shoulders.

"Come, I think it's time I let Niganda know what I'm about," Yani said.

She snatched a glass of champagne from a passing attendant and swept her way over to the First Lady of Niganda.

"Madame First Lady Rakotomalala," Yani said, offering her hand, "I am sorry that the receiving line cut our time short to speak."

"Please, call me Onde."

Onde's smile was warm, friendly, and much too open for Yani to trust right away as being sincere. However, there were many men she had met at the ball who had wives opposite them in personality and politics.

"I saw you dancing with President Mubiri. Quite a character, isn't he?" Onde said.

"He is."

Yani glanced over toward N'Jadaka. T'Challa had left his side and he stood flanked by Baba Z and an older crowd of men from South Africa.

Onde wasn't shy with her stares. At least sixty years of age, and quite the looker still with her elegant stature and flamboyant sea foam green ballgown, Niganda's first lady exuded power and prestige.

"You are so young. I think you may be one of the youngest queens of any monarchy still left around the world," Onde said.

She held out her glass of bubbly to Yani's glass and they clinked them together. After sipping and sniffing around each other, Onde stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Yani and watched the dancing and other activity in the giant room.

"How are the other wives treating you?" Onde asked.

"They treat me well."

"Good. You are the talk of the entire ball. King N'Jadaka is quite the topic of conversation too, but you my dear… I do not envy the position you are in. Everyone here, even the Wakandans, chatter on about what kind of queen you will be. You seem quite popular with the younger crowd."

"And the older?"

"Still feeling you out because of your youth."

"What do you think of me?"

"Not sure. I have read up on you. Your background is so interesting. I like what I have learned and I am excited to see what King N'Jadaka's reign will be like for my country."

"I like how people here don't pretend with fake conversations. You all say what's on your mind."

"The King of Wakanda has made that possible. He doesn't play with his words, so no one else should either…"

Onde turned to greet Vivienne who snuck up on them from the rear.

"Onde, darling!"

Vivienne gave Onde air kisses and planted herself in the center of their group.

"This has been one of the best events I've been to on the continent since…maybe President Jabavu's coronation three years ago," Vivienne enthused.

Onde laughed and waved her hand at the memory.

"I drank too much and my husband vowed to never allow me out again, all the dancing we did hurt his feet. I had too much fun," Onde said.

"Have you danced since you've been here?" Vivienne said.

"I will later. The music is wonderful, but I want to enjoy all the sights inside this ballroom. It is exquisite. The architecture is so unusual. I loved the tour of the royal paintings, and that palace garden is to die for…"

A server walked past carrying a large tray of finger foods. Onde's eyes followed the tray and Yani giggled. Onde glanced at her, grinning at being caught salivating. Yani waved the server back over to them. Onde picked up a small, savory beef patty that Yani added to the ball menu. All the women did the same. Snacking together made Onde relax and they all chatted for a full twenty minutes before President Rakotomalala sauntered over with piercing eyes to retrieve his wife. Onde stuffed another beef patty in her mouth and licked her fingers. She touched her husband's shoulder and turned to Yani.

"Princess Yani has been a lovely hostess. I've learned so much. I think we should have her as a special guest for the Melon Festival," Onde said, touching Yani's arm.

The idea didn't please Rakotomalala. His burly frame and hard mahogany face didn't hide his distaste. Onde ignored the chilly reception.

"Men, I swear, they act like they can't set aside differences. This is why there should be more women running things in the world," Onde quipped.

"King N'Jadaka says that all the time," Yani said with pride.

"Smart man. We need more like him," Onde said.

"Thank you for your invitation to visit Niganda. I have never been to a Melon Festival before…it sounds like a lot of fun," Yani said.

"Oh, you will love it! We have so many varieties and…malala, what is it?" Onde said, staring at her husband.

"There are some people I want you to meet. Please excuse us," Rakotomalala said, whisking his wife away.

Vivienne snickered.

"Well done, Princess Yani. That is the most I've heard that woman speak in ages," Vivienne said.

"She is actually quite nice. With all of the bad blood between our nations right now, I'm surprised she would be that inviting," Yani said.

"Well, you are quite engaging. I'm glad that we can speak without an interpreter."

Yani grinned.

"I like how you move. You have a knack for making friends quickly. I should hope that could happen for us," Vivienne said.

Vivienne looked out upon the crowd.

"It's not easy coming into a world like this. I was told that you come from a humble background, but you are very skillful in navigating the unknown."

"I have plenty of experience working around all kinds of people. Even dangerous ones," Yani said.

"I see. Believe it or not, Onde is a shark, and you handled her like a pro. The Nigandans pretend to hide in the shadows of Mohannda… just like Cannan and Azania. Women in these parts are always the hidden hand propping up their husbands. It's why they fear your country."

"Yeah?"

"You are the new wild card. An unknown quantity. At least with Queen Ramonda and Queen Niyilolawa, African leaders knew where Wakanda stood. Now that we know what you really are, nothing is the same. I've been dipping around getting all the dirt in here. These people are rattled by you and N'Jadaka."

"You knew him as Erik."

"I did."

Yani's Ladies-in-Waiting stepped away as the princess took over an empty table near an ancient sculpture of Sekmet.

"He's so grown up now," Vivienne said.

She sighed and looked Yani in the face.

"When I first met him in my country, I suspected he was royalty. We hung out for a weekend with Tony Stark and I introduced him to my friends. God, he was so young and green compared to now!"

Vivienne laughed and tapped her fingernails on the table.

"Tony Stark thought highly of him. I always wondered what happened to N'Jadaka. Never knew he was related to T'Challa. Crazy times. I thought at one point that I would marry T'Challa and become the queen of Wakanda, but back then, my parents did not want me to be the queen of goat herders. Fate played a cruel trick when we broke up. How are Nakia and their new baby?"

"Do you know her?" Yani said cautiously.

"We were frenemies…no, that's a lie. She never liked me and I ignored her. T'Challa always thought I hated her, but she was just standoffish. Probably jealous. King T'Chaka respected me, but he never wanted me for his son. Ramonda was indifferent and I promise you, that was worse."

Vivienne gestured for a server to hand her a glass of wine.

"It's hard being an outsider in the motherland," Vivienne said.

She drank deeply and wiped under her lip when a bit of red wine trailed down. Yani noticed throughout the evening that Vivienne drank a lot.

"My mother comes from old royal birth lines in Senegal. She's Wolof. Highly educated and a visionary for her time. She married a foreigner and became thrust into a new monarchy. My family wanted me to marry a European with influence, but I wanted to come back to Africa…reverse the migration and come back to my roots. Unfortunately, I am considered a "toubab", a white person. The Alex Haley thing didn't work for me exactly."

"How did you meet your husband?"

"I returned home from Senegal and took a trip to London. T'Challa and I broke up while he was in school there, and ironically, he introduced me to his classmate at the London School of Economics. We hit it off and a few years later, I have three children and became the First Lady of Ghana. A happily ever after."

"Is it weird being with someone that your ex hooked you up with?"

"No. By the time we broke up, I was finally over the Prince of Wakanda."

Her eyes lit up and Yani turned her head.

N'Jadaka approached the table and sat down next to Yani.

"Did you come to see what secrets I may be spilling about your time with Tony?" Vivienne said.

N'Jadaka waved over a server and picked up a small glass of plum liquor.

"Nah, just needed a break," N'Jadaka said.

Yani touched his face. Already she could tell that the ball was draining him. He could go for several hours around a large crowd, but then he became antsy to leave and be on his own. N'Jadaka kissed her hand and glanced over at Vivienne.

"It's good seeing you again," he said.

"Same."

Vivienne looked around the ballroom.

"Where is T'Challa?" Vivienne asked.

"I sent him home to be with his new baby."

"He and Nakia must be so proud."

"They are. I hear you have three rambunctious ones at home. Your husband showed me pictures," N'Jadaka said.

"They are amazing and I wouldn't change one wild hair on their heads. What about you?"

N'Jadaka tapped his kimoyo and a recent picture of Sweet Pea, Dumplin, and Sunshine popped up.

"Look at that!" Vivienne said with delight.

"You still running through people's pockets with your poker hands?" N'Jadaka asked.

Vivienne chortled and pointed at him.

"You kind sir were the Oakland card shark. Did he ever tell you how he won four million on one poker game with my uncle in Monaco?"

"No," Yani said.

"He beat me out of half a million and used it to bankroll his next hand against three royal heirs. Then he played against a Saudi king and walked away with a cool twenty million. The palace still talks about that night and my uncle dreams of playing you again. How much of that money did you spend?"

"Gave a lot of it away to family and charities," N'Jadaka said. "The bulk of it I put into a trust for my grandfather overseen by my Uncle Bakari."

Vivienne's face turned stern. Yani gazed across their table and caught Madame Ony, First Lady Mubiri, First Lady Rakotomalala, and a few other women from Canaan and Azania moving as one unit toward a table filled with women outsiders.

N'Jadaka peeped the gathering of the herd. Vivienne leaned forward.

"Erik, you must move with stealth around these people. My husband and I support you one hundred percent because we see the vision you promote. But Ghana is just one unwavering ally for you," Vivienne said.

President Tetteh cruised by the table as a jazzy tune filled the air. He scooped up Vivienne to dance. Before she became a speck on the dance floor, she glanced back at Yani.

"Princess Yani, stay true to yourself. You have what it takes to influence the hidden hands."

N'Jadaka scooted his chair closer to her and his Doras blocked access to them.

"What did she mean by that?" he asked.

"She knows I can handle myself around all of these people."

They held hands.

"Are you tired, love?" Yani asked.

He nodded.

"Let's do one more cruise around the room and then I'll call it a night," he said.

Standing together, he held out his arm and she wrapped her hand around it. Their Ladies-in-Waiting followed in step. Zola and Ilana lifted her train as they zigzagged through tables and bid goodnight to nobles and guests. The surge of energy directed at N'Jadaka forced Yani to observe everyone with a keen eye of discernment. There were so many varying emotions on their eager faces.

Envy. Jealousy. Desire. Attraction. Curiosity. Apprehension. Lust. Wonder. Fear. Admiration.

N'Jadaka was a rock star in their midst and the people surrounding them gave her the same questionable looks. She matched the king's pace and concentrated on her queen's march with her steps to mirror his confidence. The world was his stage and Yani finally experienced up close what he was up against whenever he left Wakanda. If Africans throughout the continent were wary of him, that feeling had to be denser among non-African nations facing an unprecedented shift in global power.

President Tetteh and Vivienne met them at the bottom of the staircase that led back up to the bridge connecting the west palace to the east. Vivienne gave Yani a hug first before N'Jadaka leaned in to do the same. It was a visible sign of support. Yani knew Vivienne was smart enough to use the optics to her advantage. Ghana was in full solidarity with Wakanda.

They faced the audience one final time.

Everyone seated stood up out of respect as the royal march was played by the orchestra. N'Jadaka waved to his grandparents and then waved to the Council of Elders and nobles. They were a sight walking back up the stairs with Yani's long train scaling the steps in a theatrical display of high fashion. Reaching the top, they faced their guests one last time and N'Jadaka held her hand tight, showing the crowd that they were united as equals.

Out in the fresh air, Yani breathed in deeply, pleased that she had done her part at the ball well. At the elevators that would whisk them up to their home, he wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her up, kissing her passionately in front of their entourage.

"You showed the fuck out. When I tell you those people had no idea who they were dealing with!" N'Jadaka gushed.

Yani turned and bid goodnight to Marisol and Twyla who were escorted by Doras to be shuttled home on the Royal Scorpion Fighter. Riding upstairs it seemed like the king's energy flowed back into him as he shared bits of conversations.

"What the hell did you say to Mubiri because that nigga didn't bother me the rest of the night!"

Their Doras and Ladies were the only ones on the elevator with them.

"I put him in his place."

N'Jadaka looked deep into her eyes.

"Word got back to me that you scared him."

"I did."

N'Jadaka leaned up against the elevator wall with his mouth parted.

"How?"

Yani held up her armored fingers.

"Here I was thinking you were just trying to calm the situation by taking him away."

He touched the side of her face with the back of his hand.

"Yani, you don't ever have to fight. I got us."

"I just underlined whatever you told him, that's all," she said with a smirk.

"Queen moves."

"Of course. My king is the most important man in the whole world."

Yani danced around the elevator, snapping her fingers and rolling her hips all around him. Zola and Ilana clapped their hands and the Doras pretended not to be impressed. Stepping out into the spacious hall of their floor, Noxolo and Aneka stood guard at the front entrance, relieving the ballroom Doras.

Aneka opened the door for them and Zola removed the finger armor from her hands along with her lace hood covering. Yani sent her Ladies away to prepare her bath and evening ritual.

"Baba! Mama!"

Sydette ran to them in her yellow nightgown and Riki stayed on her heels greeting them.

"You two are supposed to be asleep. It is way past your bedtime!" Yani scolded lightheartedly.

"But you promised we could see you if we stayed awake. We never got to see your pretty dress, Mama!" Sydette whined.

Their night nanny, Kora, stood nearby watching.

"We'll take them up, Kora. Thank you for getting up so late with them. Could you let Dakarai know in the morning that the king and I will be up late tomorrow? I won't need her until after two. She can use the free time to relax," Yani said.

"Goodnight Princess Yani," Kora said.

Yani spun around so Sydette and Riki could see all of the gown. She reached out to N'Jadaka to have him do the same, but she paused. He stood staring down at their children.

"Everything alright?" Yani asked.

N'Jadaka angled his head as Sydette and Riki touched her dress and lifted her train, hiding under it.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"This is the first time you and I have come home together as a couple… to be with our kids. It's like how I imagined, y'know? We go out for a good time and come home to our family."

"Can I see your mask, Mama?" Sydette asked.

Yani pulled it off and handed it to her. Both children took turns putting it on their faces before stopping to look up at their parents.

"Back to bed," N'Jadaka said.

He bent down and lifted both children up. Yani followed him to the in-home elevator that took them to the second floor, avoiding more tiring steps. Giving Sydette plenty of kisses from them both, N'Jadaka put her to bed, and then they walked to Riki's room and lowered his nightlight brightness. More kisses were given and the tired king walked Yani to her wing on the same floor. Zola had warm water and scented oils waiting for her out on her balcony bathtub. The heating lamps and balcony glare cover were on, and Ilana stood near the vanity mirror to collect the rest of Yani's clothing and clean off her makeup.

"Give me a little time and I'll be up to see you," Yani said.

"I'll come down to you. I want to sleep in your bed," he said.

Ilana lowered her head and averted eye contact after hearing the king would be coming down to the queen's bedchamber.

"Okay," Yani said.

"Nice job tonight Ladies. I liked how you took care of my queen," N'Jadaka said.

He left the room and Ilana checked the bed to make sure it had plenty of pillows for the king. Zola zipped in carrying warm body oils and lubricants, placing them on Yani's nightstands in reach of the bed.

"What would you like to wear for the king tonight?" Ilana asked, holding up a comm tab with images of lingerie and body jewelry.

"The king is exhausted…hmm…maybe that one…no…I want him to see a softer color. Yeah, the lavender and the full-body chain. In case he wants me. The one with the leash in the back," Yani said.

Ilana quirked her lips at the choice of a body chain. It was a seductive piece of jewelry that rested around her neck and draped across her breasts, hips, and thighs, very subtle, but the leash hinted at bondage play and choking.

Zola showed Yani a soft color palette in case she wanted some lip gloss and light makeup. Yani picked a light pink shimmer gloss, eyeliner, and blush. Ilana assisted in removing the corset gown, heels, and underwear. Yani slipped on a luxury robe and sat down in front of the prominent vanity mirror across the room where her make-up was slowly taken off and her skin hydrated with pre-bath botanicals.

"Princess Yani, you were sensational tonight," Zola gushed.

Ilana nodded her head in agreement as she rubbed Yani's scalp with hair gel removal.

"King N'Jadaka has made the other leaders aware of how firm he is in his place on the continent. You must be so pleased with everything that happened," Ilana said.

"We made a great impression," Yani said.

"I thought the king would be upset when he found out about what you said to President Mubiri. My heart was beating so fast!" Zola said with giddy abandon.

"I always speak my mind. King N'Jadaka is used to it," Yani said.

Yani stood up and looked at Ilana.

"Prepare the king's favorite nightcap and have his morning bedclothes ready on the chaise. Dust the pillows with lavender and a hint of jasmine," Yani said.

She padded out to the balcony and let moonlight bathe her skin first before Zola pulled off her robe and helped her into the large standing tub.

"Oh, God, this is perfect," Yani purred.

She dunked her head under the water and Zola adjusted the bathing neck pillow so Yani could soak comfortably.

Left alone on the balcony, she closed her eyes and listened to the gentle footsteps of her Ladies preparing the bedroom for the king's arrival. She didn't spend too much time soaking, just washed away the vestiges of the ballroom success down the drain.

Zola held out a fluffy towel for Yani as she carefully climbed out of the tub. She could've easily taken care of her grooming herself, but the perks of having Ladies-in-Waiting were not lost on her. It was pampering and catering at the highest level and she reveled in it.

She walked into a full body dryer that pulled the water off of her and then she headed back to the vanity where she was slathered with body butters, lipgloss, and a light hair oil to control the curls growing longer at the front of her scalp. Stepping into the body chain, she made sure her waist beads still moved easily. Her nudity didn't faze any of the women, their eyes concentrated on making sure she was perfect to please the king. Compliments from him were like gold, and they fed off of it with ravenous expectation. A happy king meant a happy queen. A happy queen meant their status was secure to be in her good graces.

Yani thought about the evening more. Wakanda had become the center of the world and in order for the other African nations to have roses in their future, they had to mind the thorn that was King N'Jadaka.

Ilana smoothed back a few baby hairs on Yani's forehead and the lights in the room flashed a faint lilac color, it warning them that the king was on his way. She slipped on a different ankle-length cover-up and picked out some anklets and toe rings for extra pizzazz.

Zola jumped up and held the tray that contained the king's cocktail, and Ilana stood next to her with hands folded waiting for requests. Yani positioned herself to greet him the moment he walked in.

"Kumkani," Yani said.

N'Jadaka kissed her forehead and Zola offered the drink to him.

"Thank you, Zola," he said.

He sipped and Yani held his free hand, escorting him further into her bedchamber. His scent was the fresh handmade soap he liked from Birnin Bashenga. His bedclothes were loose cotton cream pajama bottoms and a billowy v-neck drop shoulder shirt of the same color. She offered him a seat on a cyan-blue double high-back chair. He took it. Yani nodded for Ilana and Zola to pull up footstools near his feet. They did so and pulled off his slippers, beginning the careful massaging of his feet. N'Jadaka pressed his back further into the chair and closed his eyes. Yani carried away his empty glass and placed it on her dresser. She took a seat next to the king and Zola offered to rub her feet too. Yani declined, wanting all the attention to be on him. She unloosened his hair and combed her fingers through the locs. He leaned over and kissed her. His full lips devoured hers and he ignored the other women, not caring if they saw him slip his tongue in Yani's mouth. He needed her. He rested a hand on her waist and nuzzled his mouth against her neck. She glanced down at Zola and Ilana and they kept rubbing the king's feet, ignoring their affection for one another as they had been taught. She had asked them to do a traditional reception for a Wakandan king, and part of that was doing anything the queen asked.

Her lower parts came to life as he continued kissing her neck and gripping her waist tighter, pulling her in closer. When he let out a low moan at having her to himself, Yani lifted up from the seat and stepped away to face him. He rested palms on either side of the chair and his prominent erection was visible to everyone in his pajama bottoms.

Yani swallowed hard, her nerves racing. The women stood up and uncovered Yani for the king.

"Damn, baby," he muttered under his breath.

His dick jumped. So did her clit. Their gazes lingered on one another. His eyes dropped down to look at her folds and piercings. He became bold in front of her attendants and rubbed on his dick. Yani didn't know how much further she could go. The exhibitionist in her liked being watched by others, but the next steps in traditional old-style service that the women were equipped to do still seemed too much.

N'Jadaka was very aware of what was happening. He had been trained too and knew what came next and he had a playful glimmer of mirth in his eyes wanting to know how far she would go with it. A challenge rested in his gaze.

He stood and his height arched above them all like a rising sun. Ilana and Zola waited quietly with their hands folded in front of them.

"Undress me," N'Jadaka commanded.

Yani thought she would stop them so she could do it herself in private, but a part of her deep down wanted them to see what rested beneath the bedclothes. His dick pointed toward her and both women would have to maneuver his pajama bottoms over the girth. Her heartbeat sped up. Her pussy became wetter.

Zola and Ilana untied the cloth ties on the king's shirt and pulled away the top. He slid his arms out of the sleeves and Ilana folded the shirt and placed it over the armrest of the chair. Holding his arms out to his sides, N'Jadaka kept direct eye contact with Yani while the women unfastened the ties on his pajama bottoms. They pulled the waistband out over his dick and it bobbed in front of them as they lowered the pants. He stepped out of each leg hole, and Zola folded the pants and handed them to Ilana, who piled them on top of the shirt. They lowered their heads for more instructions, but they couldn't unsee the god body in front of them.

"Leave us," Yani said.

Zola and Ilana held up their hands to them and slinked out of the bedroom. N'Jadaka burst out laughing then.

"Baby, the stress on your face," N'Jadaka teased.

He gathered her up in his arms and she hid her face against his chest, embarrassed that he could read her so well.

"Ain't no way you could handle them fluffing up my dick for you," he said.

"Tonight was a big deal, I wanted to give you the full king treatment back home," she sighed into his chest.

They kissed, their tongues dancing a secret code that made them both groan. His hand dragged down to her vulva and when he fingered her folds, he pulled back from her.

"Damn, Yani. This pussy is soaked. That shit got you really excited."

His eyes looked serious as he gently held her face.

"It turned you on, didn't it?" he asked.

His voice lacked teasing, and the subdued tone only gave curiosity.

"Tell me what you liked about it, baby," he said.

He sat down on the double chair again and pulled her next to him. Their thighs touched and he put an arm around her.

"Tell me," he asked again.

She rested her cheek against his chest. There was no way she would tell him that watching sex vids of him with other women aroused her beyond belief. Yani still grappled with that knowledge about herself. The fantasy of it was a safe place, but turmoil rumbled in her midsection while she watched it in person, even if was just them pulling his clothes off and seeing his big dick and witnessing his pre-cum pooling on his tip. Her pussy clenched then. Simply thinking about it ignited her pleasure. Yani stuck to the present.

"I like that they get to see how good your dick looks. While they pulled your pants off, they touched it a little. Got to feel how hot it is…got to see how thick."

Her breath heated his skin with desire. His dick grew harder and he stood it up for her.

"You wanted them to touch it, huh? Stroke it for you?" he said.

"No…yeah…I don't know why I get wet. I don't want you with anyone else in real life…but I wanted them to do the rest of the ritual like the old days."

She reached for his dick and slowly fisted it for him. He kissed her again then stopped as his dick became slick with pre-cum.

"If you want to try and go further, explore your fantasy or comfort levels with something new… we can do that. I'm not saying that because I want to fuck them, but I want you to be happy. You're all I need Yani…"

He smothered her lips again and she twisted her thumb and index finger under the head of his dick, the mushroom cap spilling clear fluid all over her fingers. His fingers played with her pussy and her head fell back.

"You wanted to watch them oil me down…huh?"

He whispered in her ear. Yani whimpered and nodded.

"Did you want them to suck my dick too?'

She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting the denial wrestling in her mind.

"What did you imagine, baby?"

His tongue licked her breasts and his fingers plucked at her nipples. She was supposed to be pleasing him, showing him how much she appreciated the pressure he was under by facing nations in opposition to him. Instead, he was trying to give her the safety of exploring her imagination with him.

His touches made her skin burn with need. He rested his lips near her ear and dipped two gentle fingers in and out of her pussy with occasional rubs on her clit.

"I want to see them suck your dick… on their knees. Licking each side," she said.

He hummed in her ear and slowed down his fingers until she began panting.

"Then what?" he crooned, his voice raspy and all sexy.

She squeezed his length and started stroking it faster.

"I wanna watch you look at me while I play with my pussy…and Lola and Ilana suck yuh good and slow at the same time…and you watch me cum…and then…and then… Killmonger…yuh cum all over their faces!"

Her release clenched around his fingers and she bucked her hips wildly.

"You got Daddy's dick spittin', baby! Look at my dick!" N'Jadaka shouted.

Her orgasm continued working his digits, and she looked at his fat erection spurting cum all over the carpet. They shuddered against one another as aftershocks spiked their hot bodies.

"Fuck…you were feeling that Yani," he said.

He lifted her up in his arms like he was cradling a bride and carried her to the bed. Placing her on her back, he fingered the body chain and tugged on the leash, testing its strength. He pushed her thighs back and jerked off above her before crawling between her legs, lining up the head of his dick with her opening.

"Cumming on their faces gets you off good," he said.

He pushed into her pussy stretching her walls and grabbing onto her heavy thighs.

"You know what my fantasy is?" he said.

She shook her head, her lips pursed from the intense fullness he always put inside of her.

"I want Zola and Ilana to watch me fuck you hard. I want them to see how their king fucks his woman and fills up her pretty wet pussy with so much cum…"

He lowered his head so that he could kiss her lovingly.

"They liked seeing my dick and they will work their asses off to see it again if you let them. I bet you that they'll go to their rooms in the lower suite and play with their pussies, thinking about sucking on my balls and getting this dick to stretch them out too. But this is all yours Yani… yours to do whatever you want with it. I'll nut all over their faces if you want… if that pleases you, baby. They can oil my dick, and suck on it for as long as you want them to, but I'll only cum when you want."

Yani groaned thinking about the women sucking him off as he fucked her deep. The vestiges of shame that she carried thinking those forbidden thoughts burned away with every thrust he gave her until she was clutching and clawing his back, screaming out "Killmonger!" over and over as she exploded all over his dick.

"Help Daddy put this cum on their faces for you Yani!" he yelled.

He spilled into her, moaning her name into the shell of her ear. Strong throbs from his dick laid her out, and they panted together, trying to gain control of their ragged breathing.

N'Jadaka gazed into her eyes with so much love.

"I want this all the time, Yani. You and me coming home together every night. Being with our kids. Tucking them in at night together. Tonight, you showed me how we'll rule together. You have qualities that you have honed for years that a queen needs today. You can handle ruthless people… like you did at the compound. You can host and make people feel welcome, just like you did at your old restaurant. Plus, you know how to convey knowledge and information to people just like you did at Eco-Tours. You're intelligent. Graceful. Calm under pressure. We fit, girl. Do you hear me?"

"Yes."

He nibbled on her ear, then sucked on her nipples before rolling over and holding her hand.

"In the future, I always want you to call me Killmonger in bed when we're fucking. That shit made me cum hard."

Yani giggled and he gave her dimples.

He slinked a hand behind her neck and tugged on the gold bondage leash.

"Turn on your side," he said.

"You were so tired earlier," she teased.

"Got my second wind with you."

He reached across her and grabbed a fresh bottle of lube. She helped open it and prepared her anal cavity for his dick. He grunted when he entered her, taking his time to get rooted in her ass before he pulled on the leash. Yani clawed the bed and took his anal fucking like a good girl. His moans and groans made her clit tap out and her guttural shouts of "Killmonger" heightened everything for N'Jadaka until he hunched over her back and hollered out his third orgasm. Freshly lubricated with his warm semen, he kept fucking her in the ass and begged for her to call him the nickname that terrorized the mercenary world.

They became free in the arms of one another inside the safety of their shared palace home, with their children sleeping peacefully in a far-off wing. The world outside was kept at bay with the smacking of hot, wet, flesh, fantasies shared, and a king loving his queen into submission as he twisted a thin gold leash around his fist.

Yani would have it no other way, and that pleased N'Jadaka.

A.N.:

There will be one more final chapter!

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[canarycolemine]

Vignettes of Paradise

Vignette II

Pairing: Papa Emeritus IV x Fem OC

Summary: Evie’s quiet nighttime ritual has preoccupied Copia’s mind. How nice would it be to have someone brush your hair?

Content: lots of fluff and comfiness, mild suggestive content

WC: 1.2k

AO3 Link!

Picture:  The Reconciliation of the Montagues and Capulets over the Dead Bodies of Romeo and Juliet (1855) Frederic Leighton

Long and straight was her hair; brushing from the ends to the roots, that was the best way to prevent tangles and distribute the oils. Evie had, for many years, brushed her hair to relieve stress - a simple act of taking care of oneself, with the benefit of softer, healthier hair.

Her veil had often covered her long, raven black locs. On those rare occasions when she opted out of her customary habit and veil, she would braid her hair the night before, right after she brushed it. Mostly dry, some moisture was optimal for the desired result. Gentle waves, brushed through with a firm bristle brush, would flow carefully but carelessly all around her. It was a contrast to the pallor of her skin, to her hair - black as the night.

There were more modern ways of curling and maintaining one’s hair, but much like the other siblings of the Abbey, there was something charming about doing things the old fashioned way. From the nun’s habits they wore, to lighting the halls with lanterns and candles, all of it - a carefully selected antiquity, the beauty it could behold.

Copia had loved to watch Evie brush her hair - how smooth and shiny it would look - how soft it would feel in his calloused hands. Just like her skin. It was a small moment each day, something you wouldn’t think to mention to one another, a pleasant moment remembered only before seeing it again.

On a particularly rainy evening, as the pair was preparing for bed, Copia had done what he had loved to do - simply watch the lovely woman. She was nearly done with the process before she began the arm-aching process of braiding her hair.

“Why are you staring at me, Copia?” She teased.

“I dunno.” His face still damp, slightly red from removing his paints for the evening. “You’re just beautiful.”

“Ew! People will think you have a crush on me or something.” She chuckled. “Why, do you?” She widened her eyes, teasing him, feigning shock. “That would be soooo weird. Unless…” She bit her lower lip to make him giggle at her new character.

And giggle he did, a sweet grin grew on his face. A warmth from his chest.

He walked over to her, dressed in a more utilitarian pair of pajamas - black briefs, and a silly shirt Evie had purchased for him, solely dedicated to being a sleep shirt. Plopping himself next to her, he began running his fingers through her hair, feeling the silkiness, smelling the lavender scent that lingered.

“I like how you brush your hair, amore, it makes it all, eh, soft.” His gaze met hers again, her smile cemented on her face. How sweet he was to her.

“Thank you, my love.” She giggled. “Would you like me to brush your hair? I promise it’ll feel good.”

“Ah, why not? But my old gray hair, it will look just like yours when you’re done, si?”

“Oh certainly! But then I will get all the gray hair - the law of transfer of hair pigmentation, Copia.”

Truth be told, Copia was insecure about his steadily graying hair. He worried it took away from his looks; his Evie, she was not a vain person. No, but a beautiful woman must have a beautiful man to take care of her.

Oh, but how Evie loved Copia’s hair! Sure, the graying hairs meant he was getting older, his body and stress catching up; also true was that it was evidence of the life he had lived. His wisdom, his guidance, something to trust. And how it complimented his complexion! The contrast in his hair from the dusty brown to the white strands, it made him look so handsome - as if his white iris glowed.

Evie repositioned herself behind Copia, sitting on her knees as she began to brush.

“This is exactly what we used to do in the Sisters’ dorms, every single night. Then, we would have pillow fights in our pjs and then kiss each other and then touch each other’s boobs!” She began weaving another hyperbolic story.

“Oh my!” Copia entertained her stories, she was so silly sometimes. “You should go back there sometime, it sounds like too much fun.”

Long brush strokes from his hairline, all the way to the nap of his neck. The firm bristles gently grazing the sensitive skin of his scalp. She moved slowly, working the strokes from the left side of his head to the right. Not a spot missed.

“Oh no, I think my room now is much better. I’ve got a roommate, though, and he’s okay, I guess. He always smells nice, and is sooo handsome, and gives me really good orgasms.”

“Damn right he does!”

“But he works too hard, sometimes. I wish there was some way I could make everything easier for him.”

“Oh, you just say that because you want him all to yourself, huh?” he turned back to face her, smiling to reassure her.

“Papa, you know my tricks all too well!” Waving her hands in the air, admitting guilt. “But not really, I just like it when you’re relaxed. You have more time to do things for yourself. It makes you happy.”

“Well, amore, I am very relaxed right now.” Taking a wide yawn, as Evie chuckled. “It is very relaxing, the brushing. But now! Your turn!”

He snatched the brush from her hands, crawling further onto the bed, so he was positioned behind her.

“How do you do it? Just all in one piece or the smaller sections.”

“When it’s really wet, I do the smaller sections. I think it should be mostly dry, so you can do bigger pieces.”

“Okie dokie!”

He gathered all of her hair in his hands, capturing it all in his grasp, so it could all fall on her back. Nervously, he made small brush strokes at the ends of her hair, terrified to even add more pressure. Gathering the hair in his hands once again, that would make it easier to brush, having it all in one place, he thought.

Working the brush down the black hair, he delighted in how it shined and bounced. How smooth it looked after the stroke was finished. He eased the brush up, continuing his gentle brushes until he reached her scalp.

How Copia wanted to make the sensation as relaxing as Evie made it for him. But how careful he had to be! The bristles must hurt if too much pressure was applied. So delicately, he worked the brush forward to back all over her scalp.

Nearing her ears, Evie shivered.

“The tinglies!”

Copia merely chuckled, listening to his girl.

He worked the brush much longer than Evie normally would, but how calm they both were. Reaching to set the brush onto the side table, Copia marked his work completed. He sat back up, grabbing Evie’s legs to face him.

“All done?” Evie said.

“All done.” He kissed her little nose, brushing a fallen stand of hair behind her ear.

“Maybe next time, I will teach you how to braid my hair, too!”

They both laughed. Sweetness, calm. The rain poured outside, and how safe they were with one another. As it was always meant to be.

~~~

thank you for reading! I was possessed by this idea right before I went to bed, so I just needed to write it tee hee!

[blaqtivist]

when i think of aquarius i think of a dusty wind.

when i think of gemini i think of a dirty air conditioner.

when i thnk of libra i think of a warm sea breeze.

when i think of cancer i think of a small stream of melted snow flowing through a patch of green grass in december.

when i think of scorpio i think of a haunted sea filled with extraterrestrial creatures protecting gold & hidden knowledge at the sea floor.

when i think of pisces i think of being submerged in icy, effervescent, pure spring water.

when i think of virgo i think of mother nature incarnate as an earth goddess with flowing locs braided with flowers, she smells of cocoa butter, and has allure like Cleopatra.

when i think of taurus i think of a bearded handsome home grown man with strong family values and an attitude of “i can fix that” whos legacy and successors will one day heal the world.

when i think of capricorn i think of a antique book cabinet filled with books of wisdom and knowledge left untouched by the homeowner.

when i think of aries i think of the ancient cursed volcano that communities tossed sinners in that will one day be dormant and the sought after holy site of influencers in the days of the new age.

when i think of leo i think of Scar from Lion King but way less charismatic and moreso pedantic and wanna-be condescending.

when i think of sagittarius i think of a young king with the internal world like peter pan, a moral compass like robin hood, and a face card that is incapable of declining.