So True And Atp I’m Not Even Mad At Myself No More 😂

I just realized something about Dolores from Encanto. We all know that she has super hearing right …

That means she probably heard her younger cousins and siblings being conceived …

On another note she probably was the first to hear their heart beats.

The last part got me. Like when did I ever mention a man?

Nat: So, what's your type?

You: Kind, redhead, dumb, good sense of humor

Nat: That sounds like me. Too bad I'm not a boy.

You: ...Did I mention dumb?

Nat: Yeah

You: Okay, just making sure.

I … wow …

𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 | n.romanoff

you visit the strip club downtown with your co-workers to let off some steam, but it seems like you've caught the eye of none other than the 'black widow'.

🖤 pairing: sub!stripper!natasha x fem!cop!reader

🖤 word count: 3145

🖤 note: SMUT (18+), this one been marinating in my drafts like im preserving wine

main m.list | AO3

You don’t know why you let your co-workers drag you to a strip club on a Friday night, but you’re sure as hell not complaining.

There are plenty of women, everywhere. Women in bikinis, women in stockings, women in thigh garters. You're in wonderland, honestly.

Hey, cops needed to let off some steam too, okay?

The cheers and hoots surround your table as Carol gets a lap dance by a brunette stripper. The blonde woman is blushing – you didn’t know she could do that – but she’s having the time of her life.

As Carol slides a bill between the stripper's tits with no lack of embarrassment, you laugh and get up to go get another drink.

It wasn't an overly rare occasion for you to be letting loose, but it was infrequent enough that your co-workers quite physically hauled you to this adult entertainment facility after a particularly taxing case.

ULTRAVIOLET was the most popular strip club in Queens, New York City. They served both men and women, with sparkling reviews about customer service and atmospheric aesthetics.

Carol, Valkyrie, and Maria would simply not shut up about the 'Black Widow', who was supposedly the sexiest, most stunning stripper any of them had ever laid their eyes on.

"She fuckin' looked at me in the eye," Valkyrie had moaned on a Monday morning, speaking of this stripper they so revered. "I can't look at anyone the same no more." 

You were about to make a quick-witted retort about Valkyrie’s dramatization of mere eye contact, but Maria had only nodded solemnly in agreement and you had to admit you didn’t take Maria’s judgment lightly.

Aside from the talk about the Black Widow, you were hit with the novelty of the strip club once you stepped foot within.

As the Commanding Officer of the New York City Police Department, 104th Precinct, the boundless freeness of this place was quite a sight to behold. What with the heavy music, and the beer-tinged scent of the air, and nude women – the sensory overload did wonders to take your mind off work.

"You here alone?"

You spin on the barstool at the sound of a sultry voice. You have to physically stop your jaw from dropping to the floor at the sight of a breathtakingly gorgeous woman.

Scantily clad in matching sequined undergarments and fishnet stockings, stands a redheaded woman leaning against the bar counter, looking at you with magnificent green eyes.

"I'm not alone- I mean, not in that way, because I'm just here with friends. Well, co-workers, but they're my friends as well-"

Splendid job, Deputy Inspector Y/N L/N, you say internally. You can look in the eye of murderers and terrorists, but one look at a pretty woman and you're fuckin' gone.

"You're cute," the lady interrupts with a small tilt of her head, saving you from digging your own grave further.

You swallow harshly, feeling her manicured nails trace the curvature of your bicep. 

"Just cute?" you ask, trying not to sound too hopeful. Her fingers move down to the collar of your white shirt, fiddling with the fabric. Call it stupidity, but you feel the urge to reciprocate the contact. You move your hands to her hips.

The lady smirks. "Hm, maybe not just cute. But I think you need to show me." 

The redhead hasn't broken eye-contact all the while. Your eyes feel like they're burning. You slide your left hand down to the hem of her panties, and tug slightly. When her panties snap against her skin, she jolts with the impact.

You smirk with victory, pulling her in by her waist so your mouth is pressed against her skin. "I'll show you," you murmur, kissing the warm with a fervour you didn't know you possessed. 

The woman's breath hitches and she pulls your head closer. You accept the invitation, beginning to leave a hickey on the sensitive spot of her neck.

After a few moments of your concentrated work on her neck, the woman finally lets out a sigh-turned-moan of pleasure, and you nearly pass out from how sexy it is.

She tugs your head away and pulls you in by the collar for a kiss. Your eyelids flutter close.

Your quavering breaths meet in a frantic harmony, and you want to explore her mouth, but she ends it as quickly as it begins.

"What's your name?" the redhead asks, warm breath on your lips. "Y/N," you say hoarsely, trying and failing not to sound like you were left high and dry. 

You slide your hands to the bare skin of her torso, silently delighting in the way it raises goosebumps. You need to get more of her, feel more of her. "Do I get to know your name?" you ask.

The lights in the strip club suddenly dim, and the music takes on a far more sensual tone. 

The woman slides out of your grasp like sand falling through your fingertips, and you're left with the ghost of her burning embrace. Your question remains unanswered.

"Let's give it up for our next dancer," the bar owner says into his mic, and the noise dramatically fades away. "The Black Widow!"

Blue and violet lights dance in your vision as the woman who had kissed you just moments before, approaches the stage, hips swaying in time to the music. 

Your eyes narrow, and you down the bourbon in one shot. You'd need it.

When the beat drops, The Black Widow throws her head back and she begins to move.

God, it's criminally sensual, the way she danced, unlike anything you'd ever seen before. You couldn't put into words the allure she possessed.

The redheaded woman runs a hand over her own skin, dipping into every curve, as the music crescendos, and you know you're not the only patron with their heart thrumming in their chest.

When she begins twirling on the pole, you see men clearing out a month's paycheck for this divine woman, and honestly? You don't blame them.

Money gets flung onto the stage and catcalls get yelled as perhaps the most erotic scene unfolds before your very eyes.

When The Black Widow lifts up a thigh to show off her tight stockings, you're unable to hold back any longer, drawn to the stage like a moth to a flame.

Sitting back down into your original seat, leaving the empty glass of bourbon behind, all else fades away. Your world stumbles on its axis as the woman makes her way over to you, running a hand through her luscious locks of hair.

Your mouth dries up as The Black Widow turns around in front of you and fully bends over, exposing the delicious curve of her ass. You sink back into your seat, bringing two fingers to your lips in silent contemplation. Internally, you're fighting the goddamned World War II with your libido.

She's still swaying in beat to the music, and spins around as the sound of a saxophone starts playing. The last thing you see is a playful wink from the gorgeous woman before an ample asset of tits covers your vision.

Fuck, you're not going to survive.

Your nose quite literally gets buried between her tits as the woman climbs onto you. You would pay to see your co-workers' faces right now. How would you ever face them at work again?

“Get it, Y/N!” you hear Maria call in the distance, and a shrill whistle follows. 

You smirk against the pair of tits in your face, inhaling the scent of her perfume, and her sweat, and simlply her. You let the stripper work her magic.

After a few more minutes of your paradise, she pulls away, skin flushed. 

You regard her with a darkened gaze, pulling out your wallet. You stuff a bill in the side of her thong, making sure to snap the fabric in the same spot as you had previously.

The woman's face flickers in recognition. She shakes her head, then dips her head down to whisper in your ear.

"11pm. Room 8. Private session. Don't be late."

Like it was planned, the music comes to an end. The redhead doesn't wait for your response before she gets off your lap, raising her arm in acknowledgement of the roaring cheers. Her hips sway as she walks away from you, and you don’t even pretend that your eyes are glued to her curves.

Money gets thrown onto the stage once again, all in hopes of earning a fraction of what you had just experienced. 

"Holy shit, Y/N, what was that?" Carol yells at you over the noise, slapping your back. You shrug plainly with a stupid smug smirk as Valkyrie whines in jealousy. 

Oh, you were so fucking ready for 11pm.

.

"A private, fuckin' session for Deputy Inspector Y/N fucking L/N. Who would'a thought," Carol slurs, banging a shot glass onto the round table.

You roll your eyes at Carol's dramatization. It wasn't as if your status as Commanding Officer steered women away from you – in fact, some of them were quite into it.

But for your prevalently horny friends who had women over just about every week, you were considered starved of sweet pussy and were in dire need of quenching that thirst.

So when you broke the news that the most sought-after stripper in the most famous strip club in Queens, had just offered you a private session, lo and behold the chaos that ensued.

"Shit, girl, I would get down on my knees for that lady. You are one lucky bastard," Valkyrie adds in, ruffling your hair as you grumble. 

"You'd get down on your knees for any woman, actually," Maria says, the usually composed woman more laid back in the environment of the strip club. Or maybe it was the alcohol.

Valkyrie lets out an aggrieved noise, sitting up to whack Maria's arm, but in her drunken state she misses and slaps Carol's drink out of her hands. 

"Oi!" The blonde cries out indignantly, looking at the drink that had splattered onto her clothing. 

Carol grabs Maria's martini out of her hands and throws it at Valkyrie in retaliation.

Before you know it, your three idiot friends have gotten temporarily suspended from the strip club for 'causing a ruckus'.

Just like that, and the clock ticks down to eleven o’clock.

.

It’s 11pm, and you're overly aware of your police badge at your belt and your gun in your holster.

Or at least, you were, until Natasha swung one leg across your lap and sat herself down with an unspoken grace, effectively sitting on your lap. In the privacy of the enclosed room, you unashamedly stare down at her cleavage, eyes several hues darker than they were before.

“See something you like?” Natasha asks breathily, running her hands over her full breasts, pushing them up to elicit a reaction from you.

The moving lights in the dark room cast shadows, and when you back look up with a sinful smirk and half-lidded eyes, Natasha swears she feels herself get wet.

All the air in your lungs dissipates when Natasha begins grinding on your thigh in beat to the music, hips moving skilfully in the sexiest fashion imaginable. 

Fuck, this woman was going to be your demise.

Your hands feel like they’re on fire as you watch her put on a show, simply aching to move and touch. Natasha trails her fingertips down your tensed arms, running over the curve of your biceps. She smirks at the goosebumps it raises, her hands dwelling to the edge of your pants.

Your breath catches as her fingers find the outline of your police badge tucked underneath your shirt. The Black Widow looks up at you, expression a no-tell. “You on duty?”

“Nope.”

“Is that why you’ve got a gun in your belt?”

“Nah, that one’s just for pretty girls like you,” you respond slowly, hands tentatively going to rest on her thighs. When the smirk reappears on the stripper's face, you relax and let your shoulders untense.

“If you say so, officer,” she comments huskily, leaning forward to nip at your earlobe. The shiver runs through your bones. 

You’re about to counter with a quick retort of your own before Natasha begins grinding on that bulge in your pants, treating your gun like it was a strap.

“Shit,” you say breathlessly, hands burning at being unable to touch. Behind your back, your nails were digging into your palms so hard you swore you had already drawn blood.

Fuck, it was torture. 

Her pretty moans and breathy whines ring in your ears as she moves her hips roughly, a torment to your demise.

After a while, you come to the realisation that you can feel how wet Natasha is through her undergarments, soaked from having just dry-humped your thigh.

“Fuck me,” she says, and your throat dries up. “What?” you ask, dazedly, still staring at her bouncing tits in front of your face.

“I said, fuck me,” Natasha repeats, head tilting to the side, halting all her movements so you would look at her.

You splutter. “But the sign said–”

“What can I say, officer, you wanna make me break the rules.”

That’s all the confirmation you need before your hands can finally touch her, finally, meeting and warm skin and sweat droplets and everything you’d ever wanted. 

You let out a huff of amusement as Natasha wraps her pretty lips around your fingers and sucks, making lewd noises with her tongue. Your ears burn, now, having been tainted with the beautiful symphony of this woman’s pleasure.

“You’re very naughty,” you comment, your other hand slipping under her top to reach her full breasts. Palming at the mounds in your hand, you face moves to the bare skin of her collarbone and begin kissing it.

“Don’t make marks,” Natasha says breathlessly, when you let your teeth nick the soft skin there, and there’s a pit of desire in your stomach that growls in frustration, but you know you have to respect her wishes and instead move your mouth down to her chest.

Natasha doesn’t remember when you slipped off her bra, but she isn’t complaining about your haste and instead throws her head back when your mouth latches onto her breasts.

“Mhm, that feels good,” she moans, weaving her fingers through your hair and scratching at your scalp. You hum in acknowledgement against her flushed skin, your tongue paying special attention to her hardened buds.

When both your hands move to the underside of her thighs and lift her up, Natasha lets out an embarrassing squeak at the sudden change of position. But as you lay her down on the sofa with your body weight pressing into hers, those whimpers turn into filthy moans.

You stall for a moment, hovering above her with your silver necklace dangling right above her face. She looks so pretty like this, her hair all splayed out, the sheen of sweat on her skin making her look tantalizing.

Natasha catches your swinging necklace between her teeth, winking seductively at you, and you’re snapped out of your moment, a laugh taking over.

“Have I told you that you’re incredibly bad?” you say, in between kisses scattered between her breasts, down her sternum and to her stomach. 

“You- you have,” Natasha replies with some difficulty, as your kisses get lower and lower. “Maybe you should punish me for it, officer;” 

She shuts up when you slowly spread open her thighs, revealing the dripping heat that is Natasha’s cunt. You maintain eye contact with her as you lower your mouth to her pussy, her lust-filled stare making your head spin.

When your tongue meets her cunt, it was game over.

“Fuck,” Natasha moans, already unable to continue looking at you in the eye, hands moving to grip the cushion of the sofa. Her thighs clamp around your head, and you’re suffocating, but in a way that feels so good you could die in bliss.

You lap at her dripping cunt like you were starving, like you would die without it. Natasha’s moans get louder. You move your mouth in rocking motions, pushing your tongue further in with each thrust. 

“More,” she gasps out, and you quicken your pace, fingertips digging bruises into her plush thighs. In retrospect, you don’t remember how long you stay there, ravenously eating her out like your life depended on it. 

When you feel her breathing get faster and more shallow, breathy little whines that get louder and louder, and you know she’s about to cum.

Instead of gently bringing her to a high, you internally say fuck it and decide that if this was the one chance you had, with the most sought-after stripper in Queens, you were going to make it an unforgettable one.

You move your mouth up to wrap your lips around her swollen, throbbing clit, and you suck on it, hard. In tandem with that, you easily slide two fingers in, curling them inside her to hit that sweet spot. Natasha positively screams, and you swear it’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard.

Her orgasm floods the lower half of your face and your fingers, and the little mewls of your name Natasha lets out as she comes down from her high is one you’d always remember.

Finally, you emerge from between Natasha’s thighs. Slowly, you kiss up her stomach and her breasts, up the way you came down from, and you meet Natasha’s blissed out face.

You take a moment to take in her tousled hair, her swollen kissable-pink lips, her smudged makeup, her shallow gasps for air, and the pure lust in her eyes.

Just like that, and another jolt of arousal hits you. Before you can act on it, Natasha pulls you into a messy kiss, hot and sweaty.

“You look so fucking good-” Natasha says in between the frantic meeting of your mouths. “With my cum all over your jaw.” 

You bite back a growl at her words, wanting to let her know just how exactly good you can make her cum. Natasha catches your hand that slides down to her wet cunt, before bringing it up and placing a kiss on your fingertips. “Our time is up,” she whispers, nodding to the clock behind you that now reads 11.31pm. “One private session lasts 30 minutes.”

This woman was going to be the death of you.

You turn back to The Black Widow with dilated pupils, slowly reaching into your pocket for that leather Saint Laurent wallet, and the ghost of a smirk on your lips.

In the wee hours of twilight the next day, you leave the strip club with your wallet emptied, a searing cramp in your hand, and the memory of an unforgettable woman whose real name you hadn’t even known.

Boy, you had one hell of a story to tell your friends. 

i think i'm not gonna taglists anymore, sorry yall. there's just so many usernames and i have to constantly update it :(

main m.list | AO3

this is the money garf. reblog for untold pasta and riches to come your way

Reblog if it’s okay to befriend you, ask questions, ask for advice, rant, vent, let something off your chest, or just have a nice chat.

This was … yeah

100/10 would recommend

could you do an okoye x reader, where the reader went on a mission even though okoye didn’t want them to go because of how dangerous it was, and they end up going missing for a while?

please bare with me💀 this is my first request 😭

ꜱʜᴇ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴄᴇᴀɴ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴀɴᴅ

Pairing: General Okoye x Black!Fem!Reader

Genre: Fic

Synopsis: When you go MIA during a mission in America, the search for you has Okoye coming to terms with her true emotions. 

Warnings: one-sided pining in the beginning, cursing, mentions of main character death (T’Challa’s passing), reader is injured, mentions of blood, implied friends with benefits, maybe some ooc okoye and shuri

A/N: This is a whopping 10.5k word count, the longest anything that I've ever written, so prepare to sit for a minute with this reading!! Present time takes place during BP2, past/flashbacks take place during BP1. Some songs to listen to while reading: Lauren Hill's "Ex-Factor", "When It Hurts So Bad", and "I Used To Love Him" ft. Mary J. Blige ;; Tate McRae's "uh oh", "that way" and "you broke me first".

Tags: @verachii @inmyheadimobsessed @babyboiboyega @badass-dora-milaje @chrome-edition @bestfriend491 @daddyshuri

It had been three days since any last known contact between you and Wakanda. 

Aneka and Ayo had never witnessed their general in such distress. Okoye was possibly the most skilled in the Dora Milaje when it came to masking emotions. It was a tactic taught to the warriors so they could not be read and exploited through their emotions. A tactic taught ferociously by Okoye herself. To see the woman’s mask cracking brought worry to the two high-level Dora’s.

The general kept fidgeting with the holographic screen. With Princess Shuri’s lab being one of very few places able to track locations via kimoyo beads Okoye found herself taking after the gifted scientist, confining herself to the pristine white premises. She had been stuck in the same never-ending loop; typing in your last name and mission location only for it to come up as ‘unavailable’ in bright, red, blocky letters on the screen. She would get frustrated, grumbling curses under her breath, her clear-polished nails scratching the surface of the counter top.

It was clear Okoye’s only consolation would be you back on Wakandan soil.

“Is she still at it?” A voice called behind the two guards. Each turned to their side to see Princess Shuri walking down the corridor. The young royal’s attire never ceased to amaze the militant warriors, ever faithful in their tradition, compared to the futuristic aesthetic the princess held.

The two guards executed the proper Wakandan solute to the gifted scientist, of which Shuri returned with a tight smile. The sight of the general, her long-time companion, swiping and pressing away at the holographic screen with haste, confirmed Shuri’s suspicions. 

“Since six o’clock this morning, princess,” Ayo confirmed.

“And still nothing, I presume?” Shuri asked. The silence of the two guards, and their sympathetic glances to their general, was enough of an answer for Shuri.

“Is there nothing that can be done?” Aneka questioned.

Technically speaking, without the kimoyo beads, tracking via technology would be rendered useless. The last known trace of (Y/N) was in a body of water - a Great Lake in the US, to be precise. If the two could pinpoint a starting location for a city along said lake…

“There may be,” Shuri whispered, more to herself than to the two Dora soldiers. “Would you two give us a moment?”

Aneka and Ayo saluted to the princess, before briskly walking to the end of the corridor to take up position there. With each woman taking their stance against each wall of the corridor entryway, a sigh of relief was released simultaneously.

“I sincerely hope this is able to be resolved soon,” Aneka comments, “I can’t bear to witness General Okoye in such distress.”

“Glory to Bast, be it so,” Ayo responds. “You do know why she is on such a sharp edge?”

Aneka looked at Ayo, subtle confusion painting her face. “(Y/N) is her best friend, is she not?”

At this, Ayo released a small chuckle. “I will tell you this so that you may understand, my love. But make no mistake - the General and (Y/N) have more to their relationship than what meets the eyes.”

“No, not that way! You are using too much force!” The distant voice of Princess Shuri rings in Ayo’s ears as she recalls the memory, of which she was subject to due to her guard station being inside the laboratory at the time.

(Y/N), who had become the subject of Shuri’s weapon testing for the day, was testing out a new toy the princess had forged. The armorer was always willing to indulge in the princess’s antics, much to the distaste of General Okoye, who grounded herself in the traditional use of the signature Dora spear.

“You never said anything about force dynamics, Princess!” (Y/N) retorts, playfully of course. The two had a sort of older sister-younger sister relationship, and so it wasn’t uncommon to see the two bicker whenever they were in each other’s presence.

“Perhaps being around so many spears has made your mind one-tracked. Anyone would think to not lunge it that hard,” Shuri shot back, “you could have broken through the window!”

“Do you see how she talks to me, Ayo?” (Y/N) scoffs to the guard stationed at the threshold of the lab. “I greatly donate my time and this is how she treats me! My heart is wounded, dear princess!”

“You should be thankful that I save you from the torture of which Okoye puts you through! I hear training with her leaves all the Dora in excruciating pain!” Shuri retaliates, as she moves over to the holographic screen to swipe and type away.

Ayo laughs as the scene plays out - it was always an entertaining shift whenever (Y/N) visited the laboratory.

“Excruciating pain, eh? Shall I give you a taste of it?” 

In a split second, (Y/N)’s arms are around Shuri’s midsection, and the princess shrieks as she is swung around like a sack of yams. It is a sight that makes many of the laboratory staff pause their projects and take a short break to witness the playful interaction, laughter being shared amongst everyone in the room. Even the Dora warriors who stand guard break their stoic personas, letting a smile or a chuckle pass through their masks at Shuri’s pleads to be put down, unhanded by the stronger woman.

Just as quickly as the atmosphere in the laboratory warmed up into something familial, the laughter and the murmuring comes to a halt. It is quickly replaced with the stone cold silence native to this space, and when (Y/N) puts Shuri down, she realizes why everything has suddenly went quiet.

King T’Challa and General Okoye have arrived.

(Y/N) was quick to put up her salute to the king and Okoye as mortification ricocheted throughout her body. While she and the princess were more like sisters than royal and subject, T’Challa’s new title made the armorer unsure of how her actions would be perceived.

(Y/N) went to apologize for her behavior, but T’Challa cut her off before she could speak, “As you were, (Y/N).”

She dropped her arms from the ‘x’ position on her chest, and stood straight to meet T’Challa’s eyes. The king had a smirk on his lips, “I think I will just take a hug - I do not wish to be thrown around like a sack of yams.”

The king’s playfulness made your embarrassment from earlier sink away, as you first clasped your hands together, pulled them away with a snap, and ending the shake with a first bump and a side hug. Though your hug could not be initiated, as Shuri hurriedly shoved her way in between the two of you. Like the child she was, she stuck her tongue out at you while wrapping herself around her brother’s midsection.

“Do you see this, my king?” You scoff, referencing the lack of manners  on the princess’s behalf.

“Shuri, I am starting to think you deserved to be swung around like a sack of yams,” says T’Challa, his large hand coming down to ruffle the girl’s head of braids. Shuri protested this, pushing his hand off with a huff. “You are my brother! You should be on my side-!”

“-and what side is that, princess?” (Y/N) cut her off with a snarky look on her face. “The side of which taunts her subjects?”

“I think you have more than my taunting to worry about, (Y/N).” Shuri retorts, sticking her nose up at (Y/N). The armorer is confused for a moment before she follows Shuri’s gaze to Okoye, who stands next to T’Challa, examining her nails. Suddenly, (Y/N) remembers something important in regards to the general.

“So, this is where you hide when it is time for the scheduled maintenance work on the spears?”

Shit, that was today.

“Um…” (Y/N) attempts to try and find an excuse to justify her forgetful nature, but all that comes out of her mouth is a questionable “no?”

“Ooooo, (Y/N)’s gonna get iiiittt!” Shuri taunts the armorer, as if her antics did not play a part in this confrontation. T’Challa takes his free hand and flicks Shuri’s forehead, to which the young scientist winces audibly. “Be nice, Shuri.” He scolds. 

At that moment, Shuri conveniently remembers she had something to show her older brother, and she whisks the clueless man off to the lower level of the laboratory. Leaving (Y/N) to face Okoye’s wrath alone. How cheeky of her.

“Okoye, I can explain-”

“You were testing incredulous weaponry again.”

“In my defense, she asked me!”

Okoye scoffs as she turns on her heel to leave. (Y/N) follows closely behind, stuttering about how it was actually a decent weapon and that she could give it a try - but Okoye ignores her excuses as she continues her beeline out of the laboratory. (Y/N) stops as she is just at the threshold, meeting eyes with Aneka.

“Pray for me, Ayo, I fear I have gotten on her bad side again.”

“In Bast’s name, you make it out of that armory alive.” says the Dora with a sympathetic smile, as (Y/N) continues her trudge in Okoye’s footsteps.

Though it was not her first time witnessing such an interaction between the two, Ayo could attest that the manner in which Okoye addressed you was not the same manner she would address her, or Aneka, or any Dora Milaje. In fact, it could easily be considered the easiest the military general has ever been on anyone. Ever.

“Our General is not forgiving, Aneka; you know this as well as I do,”

“This is true. However, the General is known to be apprehensive to change. Have you forgotten how she reprimanded me for using the knives Shuri gifted me?”

“I warned you not to bring them, my love-”

“While that may be true, I disagree that that encounter alone would be enough to solidify the idea that (Y/N) and the general are more than good friends.”

Aneka did have a point. To anyone outside of Okoye’s inner circle, the encounter could still be deemed as Okoye being her normal, authoritative self, someone who mocks technology despite its evident positive service in the advancement of the country. Okoye was a traditional woman through and through, and where she mocked technological science, you embraced it. Anyone could see how that would cause bickering between.

“There is another incident…” Ayo began, hesitance laced in her voice, “an incident I was not meant to see.”

“You would think, as head of the armory, you would be more careful around sharp objects,” Okoye scolded, her attention focused on your hand as she worked to disinfect the wound. In an attempt to catch a falling spear, the blade cut into your flesh. The injury sustained was not so dire in which you had to seek medical attention from Shuri, but the wound would make it difficult to work with your hand for a while, as the gash was from the place between your thumb and forefinger and straight across your hand.

You winced as the antiseptic was used on your hand, the slight sting of the liquid bringing you discomfort. “In my defense, I underestimated the length of the spear.”

“‘In my defense’ my arse,” Okoye scoffed, her use of profanity wasn’t common in her nature. She only used it around you, someone she didn’t have to hold her authoritative persona up around, “you need to be more careful. You can not run to me whenever you are hurt. We are not children anymore.”

“Oh, but you have always been better at healing me than anyone, Okoye,” you chimed at the woman, who rolled her eyes at your silliness. In an attempt to defy your statement, the general pulled the gauze wrap around your hand a bit too tight. It caused you to gasp in pain, but it became quickly apparent what Okoye was doing. “You- Bast, why do you insist on hurting me?” You remark, as Okoye returns to wrapping your wound.

At the time, there was a hidden message in those words, a message neither of you were truly ready to confront.

“I hope this will teach you to be more mindful of where you put your hands,” Okoye said with a sigh as she packed up the first-aid kit. She stood, and walked with the kit in hand to return it to it’s rightful storage place in the corner of the armory room.

“I do not recall that being an issue the other night.”

“Oh, Bast, purge this woman’s mind of the filth she speaks!”

Okoye’s reaction caused you to laugh hysterically. It was jokes like these that could only be shared between the two of you in certain privacy. Okoye had an image to uphold, and you understood that. Even so, it did not stop you from your attempts at flustering the woman, even more so freely now that you did not have to share her with her husband anymore.

Okoye returned to your side, taking your hand into hers and examining her work. “How does it feel?”

“It’s fine, it’s alright.”

“Not to tight now, right?”

“Okoye, it’s fine.”

“No, it doesn’t look wrapped right-” You cut Okoye’s words short by taking your uninjured hand and grasping onto her wrists, restraining them in your lap. Your bandaged hand went to cup her cheek, the clean white of the gauze contrasting greatly, yet beautifully, with her cocoa-colored skin.

“It. Is. Fine. You did good, do not worry yourself over a simple cut.” You chastised, your voice soft yet firm to the general.

Okoye begrudgingly allowed her hands to relax in your grip, and to lean in to your hand. A moment of silence was shared between the two of you.

“How do you feel?” You asked, after what felt like forever staring into her eyes. Eyes of which held so, so much, in such a small, small window.

“I am…” the general’s words trailed off as she averted her gaze elsewhere. For Okoye, this was not a simple question to answer.

She had lost her husband to treachery, his mind blinded by revenge so much so that he went against his own country, forcing her to take a stance she never thought she’d have to take, but nonetheless, stepped up to the occasion. This was the man she married, the man she hoped to bear children with, to leave behind a legacy of love and loyalty to each other, to their people, to their country.

And it was gone, just like that. “How does one feel when their entire world was stripped from them?”

It was a question you couldn’t even ask yourself, as you couldn’t even begin to put yourself in her shoes.

The general took your uninjured hand into hers, squeezing it tightly for comfort. “I am here. I am with you. That is…all I can be, right now.”

It took everything in you to not take that second statement out of context, close to heart. Yet, you couldn’t stop your heart from swelling with pride at the idea that Okoye deemed you worthy of her presence, when everyone else she had casted away.

“And I am here with you, my friend.” you replied, though the word ‘friend’ had become harder and harder to speak nowadays. You returned the gesture, squeezing her hand to let her know that she was not alone. 

“And I thank you for being here with me, through all of this,” Okoye uttered, “you have stood by my side through everything. Glory to Bast that she has blessed me with such a friend as you.”

Where your heart once swelled with pride, was deflated by the confirmation of your friendship. And when Okoye brung herself to wrap her arms around your neck in a close hug, your heart battled ferociously with what emotions you should allow yourself to feel. 

To be in her warmth was all you’ve ever wanted; to bask in her love was a thought you guiltily indulged in every night. Yet, the reality of it all, was that the only way to gain even the closest proximity of being deemed worthy of her affections, was through the friendship you had maintained since you were children.

If the only way to feel her love and affection was through the lenses of friendship, then you would break your own heart every time with the mention of the word. Anything was worth keeping Okoye content.

It was only when the general had left to attend to other business, and you heard the massive door to the armory close shut, that you let the tears that had been prickling at the brim of your eyes, fall onto the white gauze wrapped around your hand, dampening the fabric to a soft gray of despair.

Aneka remained silent after Ayo finished her recollection of a few months prior. She did not know what stunned her more, the fact that Okoye had only been open to (Y/N) about her emotional turmoil of everything thus far, or the fact that the general, who prized herself on reading opponents skillfully, had been oblivious to her supposed best friend’s true feelings after all.

“Convinced now, my love?”

“Indeed so.”

It was a tragic love story indeed. However, the two hoped that it wasn’t too late, that this love story would not end prematurely.

“Ayo, Aneka!”

Shuri’s voice could be heard down the corridor, Each warrior peered their head down the hall, as Shuri walked briskly towards them. “Gear up. We leave in an hour.”

“Gear up?”

“Leave?”

When Shuri made it to the end of the corridor, she turned to face the two. “We have a location. It is not concrete, and we have to move fast. It has been three days too long, we cannot waste another second.”

Ayo and Aneka looked at each other, then back to Shuri. With a nod and salute, the pair of Dora rushed to prepare for departure.

The first thing that hits you when your consciousness returns, is the water.

It’s very distinctive. The smell, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore. The seagulls that make their home in nests along the rocky cliffs near the body of water. 

It’s peaceful. Serene. There’s an urge to return to the neutral comfort of unconsciousness, but something tells you to resist. A calm, soothing voice, easing you away from the darkness of slumber, coaxing you to tread into the blinding, warm light. The further you fall into it, the clearer the voice becomes.

You reluctantly peel your eyes open. Your vision is blurry, and there's an uncomfortable ringing in your ears. Everything begins to hit you all at once; the pounding headache that crashes in waves through your skull, the soreness of your body, especially in your midsection, and the overwhelming feeling that you’re not supposed to be here.

Then again, where exactly is ‘here’?

And who exactly were you?

It takes a moment for you to notice the young girl who hovers above you, a worried look on her face. You see that she calls out to someone, but your hearing is still slightly overwhelmed by the persistent ringing in your ears.

Your body begins to act on its own. Despite the intense pain that swarms you when you move, you attempt to sit up. Your back finds something hard and wooden to lean against, giving you a wider view of your surroundings. You are starting to have questions, and someone needs to answer them.

It’s as if your thoughts were spoken into existence, as another figure, older than the young girl who sits beside you, enters from the wooden doorway. It’s here you finally notice that you are outside, on some patio, connected to some cabin like structure. This is why you were able to be soothed by the sound of the waters - a massive lake is a few mere meters away.

You hear the older woman ushering the child inside. In her hand she holds a cup, and your mind begins to wonder what could be inside. Water? Tea? Or perhaps something more sinister.

No, this woman doesn’t give off a sinister aura. If anything, she seems to be a caretaker. The same questions begin to muddle in your head more profoundly - where were you, who were you, and what happened to you?

The woman approaches you slowly, with her free hand held into view to show she was not a threat. While your body tensed in defense, you allowed her into your space. She didn’t pose an immediate threat, but you had to keep your guard up while your senses were still recovering.

“You’re awake; that’s good. You were out for a minute there,” She speaks, though her voice is still slightly muffled. Once she’s kneeled at your side, she positions the cub in her hand to your lips, urging you to drink. “Trust me, you need it.”

Slowly, you allow the liquid from the cup to flow into your mouth. It’s water - cold, refreshing, and for the first time since you’ve woken up you realize just how parched you are. With some unknown strength you managed to conjure up, you take the cup from the woman's hand and down the rest of the water in one gulp. The feeling of it washes through your being, and now you can feel some sense of strength return to your body.

“Where am I…?” you ask, voice hoarse and raspy from lack of hydration. The cup is discarded at your side, opposite of which the woman sits.

“You’re at my cabin; I live here on the lakefront,” She answers. “We  found you a couple of days ago washed up on the shore. You were hurt pretty bad, we did the best we could-”

“We?” You questioned, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Myself and the children,” The woman clarifies. “The girl that was just here, Yasmine, she found you when she was outside collecting from our garden. Saw your body near the water and came to get me.”

Your head stiffly follows to where she points to - an area a little bit off into the distance where other children currently played. 

“My name is Shara,” the woman speaks once more, and you nod in acknowledgement. “Do you remember anything?”

You shook your head no, but the pain from your head caused you to wince audibly. With your vision clearing up, you could finally take in the woman who helped you. Dark skin, long locs with gold and silver adornments. She wore earth tones and sported an oversized cardigan that covered much of the top half of her body, her bottom half covered in a long, flowing skirt.

Shara took note of your response, as well as looking over your midsection. Your shirt was pinned up just below your breasts, which gave easier access to your stomach area. White gauze was wrapped around your midsection with a spot on your lower right stomach bleeding through with a dull red.

“It’s about time to change your bandages again,” She noted, as she began to stand up.

You were confused at first, until you slowly looked down to see your midsection expertly bandaged up. It made sense now why your abdomen hurts way more than anywhere else on your body.

Shara muttered that she would be back in a moment, leaving you alone on the patio. You turned your head to the lake, staring at the way the waters met with the shores, then pulled back, only to do so once more; your mind began traveling somewhere deep into the banks of your memory.

The waves crashed against the shoreline, the sound of land meeting water overwhelming your senses. Your eyes were closed as you took in your surroundings through your other senses. The dry sand that your feet stood on, the boulder of which you sat on, the smell of the water, the sound of the waves and the birds. It was home to you. The waters brought you solace in distress, and validated your rage, accepting you in silence for who you were.

Okoye had asked you to meet her here at dusk, and yet, you found yourself on the sandy shores an hour earlier. Whatever she wanted to talk about, it had to have been important, and whether it was good news or bad, the urgency of which she called you made anxiety pool in your stomach. Your mind still tried to guess what she may have wanted. Though, the guessing game was cut short when you saw her approaching in the distance.

Once she was close enough, you stood from your seat on the bolder, and you walked side by side along the shoreline. She on the side of water, you on the side of land.

“Now, what could be so important that you would drag me all the way out here to tell me?” You ask, your tone playful. The question brings a smile to her face; a genuine smile, a beautiful one. It makes your heart skip a beat. You could compare it to the brightness of the sun.

Though you know the answer to part of your own question. Okoye was never one to show emotion around other people. It had been this way since your childhood years. You were thankful to Bast that she deemed you worthy of being present in her more vulnerable states.

“Oh, please. You act as if you did not want a reason to escape from that dark, dingy armory chamber,” She shoots back, nudging you with her shoulder. You  returned the favor, a chuckle escaping your lips. “Perhaps…but that does not answer my question, General.”

Okoye takes a deep breath, glancing at you from the corner of her eye. “Do you remember the man who courts me?”

“Yes. W’Kabi of the Border Tribe…He does not have a face one can forget.” You reply, a hint of mischief in your voice in the way you describe the Border Tribe member.

“(Y/N)!”

“I am simply saying he has a very…distinguishable face! Nothing More!’

You did not like this W’Kabi man. Frankly, you never liked anyone who approached Okoye in an attempt to enact courtship. They all had ill intentions, which were proven right thanks to your keen perception. And for the most part, Okoye would take heed to your advice and steer away from these suitors.

Your feelings had no dealing in those matters, and neither did they this one.

However, Okoye was stubborn when it came to W’Kabi. Despite your numerous attempts at telling her to keep the man at arms length, Okoye was certain that he was the one for her. He had proven himself worthy to be a suitor and while he left an ill-taste in your mouth, Okoye was strong in her decision, and so you relented. Even if you did feel a tightness in your chest whenever you saw the two together.

“Well…he has proposed.”

You stopped dead in your tracks. Suddenly, the crashing waves were no longer comforting; they became violently overwhelming as your chest began to tighten in an emotion you could not put a name to, did not know you could feel.

W’Kabi…proposed?

“-(Y/N), did you not hear me?”

The general had stopped a feet or two in front of you, looking at you with a raised brow. Okoye’s voice grounds you, clears your hearing, but the tightness in your chest still lingers. “W-What?”

“I said, do not be upset now that you may have to share me.”

You were quick to come up with a cover, though whether or not she was able to see the crack in your persona, you did not know. You just had to keep the conversation going.

“I am just surprised…did not think he had the gall to do it.” You replied, a truthful statement be it so, but nonetheless, a coverup for what you really wanted to say.

“Yes, indeed. I did not think so either.”

As breathtaking as her smile was, and even though mere moments ago it had warmed your heart, it cut you deeply to know that she was smiling for another. Another man. Another man who had proposed to her-

“And what of you?”

“I accepted.”

-Another man she is to wed.

Okoye took two steps towards you, closing the distance between the two of you. She takes hold on your hands, and makes direct eye contact with you. You struggled to hold her gaze, but in order to keep it together, you persisted.

“I accepted, and I want you there.”

‘Bast, have you forsaken me?’ You thought.

“You are the only friend I have ever known. The only person I have ever truly trusted. Even as children, you have stood beside me. Protected me. We have protected each other. And if I am to wed, I need you there beside me.”

Without thinking, you nodded. “Of course, Okoye. You will have me there.”

And while on the outside you were grateful for Okoye finally finding her happiness, on the inside, a piece of you died, knowing that not only does her heart belong to another, you would have to watch her marry a man who’s place should have been yours.

“According to my calculations, we should be in our target area by nightfall.”

The princess’s words were exact, and with Ayo and Aneka piloting the triangular shaped ship, the four would arrive at their destination in no time.

“Once we touch ground, we will split up into teams of two - Ayo and Aneka will search north, Okoye and I will search south…”

Shuri, noticing that Okoye was not paying attention to the breakdown of the plan, released a soft sigh as she turned off the holographic screen above the sand table that sat in the middle of the aircraft. 

For the most part, Shuri, Aneka and Ayo were still unaware of the cause of this entire ordeal. Shuri had her suspicions, after being approached by her mother, Queen Ramonda, of how (Y/N) came to her and the council specifically to request permission for a week-long extraction mission. (Y/N), a palace official in charge of weaponry, who barely left palace grounds since her instatement as Royal Armorer, requested an extraction mission on the other side of the world to recover an artifact of Wakandan origins; the item in question being laced with vibranium.

Something was not right, and the queen-mother brought this up to Shuri in hopes that the princess could get some answers out of Okoye in a more gentle manner, that wasn’t just responding to an authoritative figure.

For Shuri, (Y/N) was an older sister. Someone who could confide in when she could not even turn to her mother. (Y/N) trained Shuri in basic combat, assisted the princess in weapon testing, and even entertained the princess when she went on pranking tyraids in her youth. The armorer was a comforting shoulder for the princess during the mourning period of T’Challa’s death, and provided a sense of stability to her. Of course, (Y/N)’s actions were off. And Shuri had an idea why.

“General Okoye, may I speak with you for a moment?” Shuri says as she starts to walk towards the exit at the back of the pilot cabin. Okoye acknowledged the words the princess spoke, but for some reason, did not not show signs of movement. “In private, please.”

Aneka and Ayo shared a look, and then their gaze connected to Okoye’s. The general, who had been deep in thought, fiddling with her spear, placed the weapon back into its holding rack, and followed the princess outside of the pilot cabin. Aneka and Ayo were left to pilot the ship, conjuring up theories as to what the Princess needed to speak to Okoye about in private.

Leading the Dora general into the cargo section of the ship, Shuri turned on her heel to face the general, and began to unfold her interrogation. “You seem distracted, general. Would you care to speak your mind?”

Okoye stood firm and straight, and while she wore the mask she always dawned as a faithful member of the Dora Milaje, Shuri could see that pieces of it were beginning to crack. “I am simply worried about (Y/N), Princess.”

“We all are, Okoye,” Shuri replied. She took a couple of steps towards the warrior, closing the distance between them. “It is just me, Okoye, there is no need to be so stiff.”

Shuri watched for a moment as Okoye;s figure began to ease from the aforementioned stiff position she took. One could tell that the weight of this mission was getting to her.

“We all are worried for (Y/N),” Shuri reiterated, “so in order for this rescue mission to be successful, I need to know what happened between you and her.”

There was a moment of silence. Shuri kept a close eye on Okoye’s face as the general searched for an explanation. And that was when she saw it.

Another crack in the general’s mask.

“We had a…disagreement on a certain matter, nothing more-”

“Okoye, do not-” Shuri stopped herself mid-sentence to compose her voice, taking another step closer to the general. They were face to face now.

“Okoye, this is (Y/N) we are talking about here. (Y/N), the Royal Armorer, who never leaves city grounds, let alone palace grounds. (Y/N), who dedicates her life for the betterment of the Wakandan armed forces via her position as weapons specialist.”

Shuri pauses, taking a breath, and when seeing Okoye’s eyes divert once more, she continues in her speech.

“One month ago, everything was fine. I would even go as far as to say things were like how they were before when Brother was alive. And then, a week ago, (Y/N) goes to my mother and the council requesting a week-long extraction mission, in a very dangerous part of the world-”

“I told her not to go, Shuri-”

“And while that may be true, Okoye,” Shuri took another pause, watching Okoye’s face intently, “something else happened. Something else happened, between the two of you, and I need to know exactly what.”

Shuri’s eyes bore deep into Okoye’s searching for a sign of breakthrough into the general's psyche. If Okoye knew what was best, then she would confess whatever she was hiding.

Okoye turned away, stepped away until her side faced the princess. Raising a hand to her face, Okoye bit her fist, fighting back the urge to scream out her confession into the steel gray walls of the cargo cabin.

“It is my fault,” the general choked out, as she knocked her fist into her forehead out of frustration.

“What is your fault, Okoye?” Shuri asks, approaching the general once more. Okoye turns back to face the princess after a moment of self-contemplation. Her mask has fallen.

“Everything,” Okoye whispers, as she recalls the night of your argument as if it had happened the night prior.

“I deserve an explanation, Okoye!”

Your voice rose higher than the sound of the crashing waves, as you marched after the general ahead of you. It was nightfall, with the moon high in the sky and the stars shining bright in the blanket of night. Despite the beauty that the scene may have held, havoc was about to be wreckin.

“Leave me be, (Y/N)!” Okoye warned, several steps ahead of you. She did not want to talk right now; about anything, and sure not about you.

The warrior felt your hand grip onto her forearm and spin her around to face you. Your face held many emotions, as did hers, but you could not care how far your mask had slipped. You had already laid bare everything you had felt for Okoye months ago. Both of you in a drunken daze, one high on love, the other drowning in heartache. One thing led to another, and the morning after, you found yourself having to sneak back into your room before you were to meet with Shuri about weapon modifications.

You had suspected it to be a one night thing, an event never to be spoken of out of the confines of each other's presence. But when Okoye found comfort in your arms, something you had always dreamed of becoming reality, your heart gave in to her whims. Night after night, you would forget the world in which the two of you lived in, and indulge in each other. A world in which her husband was banished from Wakanda, dissolving their marriage, and her heart aches for the traitor she married. A world in which she would never see you as the lover you wished to be. A world in which you selfishly wished Okoye would be yours, and you hers. A world in which she would never return your affections.

And yet, the more it keeps happening, the more you’d wake up in her arms, in awe of the halo that adorned her dark, half-covered figure from the sunrise seeping into your room, the more you hoped that maybe, just maybe, things would be different.

Perhaps you were foolish to will yourself to believe things would turn out in your favor. But you did not initiate anything, and you have done no wrong against Okoye, so what reason did she have to pull away?

“I will do no such thing,” you retorted. “Why? After so long, why is it now that you wish to stop?”

“I told you- I cannot do this anymore-” Okoye replied, using her hands to gesture between the two of you, “-this, whatever this is, I can’t do it!”

“And what is it that we do, Okoye?” You questioned. “Love? Act as lovers? If it had stopped after that night, I’d understand, but you- you continued! You came back to me, again, and again, and again, and I let you!”

“It was a mistake to begin this in the first place!” The general blurted out. “What reason do we have to continue?”

“What reason do we have not to?!”

“(Y/N), please-” Okoye choked out, reaching out for your hand, “I do not need this right now- I just need you to stand beside me-”

“I HAVE STOOD BESIDE YOU!” 

You yanked your hand away, and to this, Okoye flinched. Of all your years of knowing her, never once have you yelled or screamed at her. It is now that she sees your face - your eyes puffy and bloodshot from crying, tears running streaks down your face.

“I stood beside you when we were children,” You choked out through your tears, “I stood beside you when unworthy suitors came to your door, and you still gave them a chance. I stood beside you as you married a traitor, a man who’s place I could have been in! I stood beside you when Killmonger took the throne, and the Queen and Princess had to flee to Jabariland for protection! I stood beside you as you mourned your marriage! If I have done anything, I have always! Been! Beside you!”

Okoye is at a loss for words as she watches you brush a hand down your face, dampening your skin with the salty water that leaks from your eyes. “And yet, when I only ask to stay in your arms for a little while longer, suddenly my sacrifices are invalid? My love, is invalid?”

Okoye could not speak, whatever words she wanted to utter were stuck under the lump in her throat as her eyes began to swell with tears.

“I have lied to myself, hoping that one day, you would see my love for what it is truly worth. But I cannot live in a lie anymore. And if your wish is to leave you be….then so be it. But one thing will always remain clear,” Okoye’s eyes became fixated on your finger that pointed towards her in accusation.

“I have never not been by your side. No matter how much it killed me, I have always been there. And you, Okoye, Daughter of Wakanda, have just murdered the last of me.

“Thank you,” You replied, as Shara handed you a cup of tea.

She had changed your bandages earlier in the day, and since you had regained most of your strength, you were able to sit and stand on your own now. Shara was a natural healer, and you were thankful for her ability to patch you up so well.

It was nightfall now, the moon hanging high in the sky and the stars shining brightly alongside it. The children of Shara’s cabin played near the water a bit into the distance. The sight of them having fun and enjoying themselves brought a smile to your face.

Shara sat next to you, hiding her hands under her arms to keep them warm from the cool night air. “How are you feeling?”

“Nothing is as sore anymore. Aside from not remembering anything, and…obviously, the injury, I cannot complain.” You reply. “Though…earlier, I had this…recollection, of sorts. Of a memory.”

“Really?” Shara whispered, shocked.

You nodded, staring into the cup of tea she had handed you. “Of a woman. We stood at a beach, similar to this one. She skin was dark, the color of coffee beans. Her eyes held wonders. And her smile…it was as bright as the sun itself.”

Shara tilted her head a bit with a chuckle, “You sure you didn’t love her?”

“I….I think I did.” You confirmed. “But…she was to wed another. And while it was only a memory, I felt the tightness in my chest just as intensely.”

“That’s…so sad. I’m so sorry.”

“If it is true, then there is nothing I can do. Especially in this state, with no memory.”

There is a comfortable silence that falls between the two of you as you both watch the children in the distance attempting to catch fireflies. The struggling of the smaller ones made you chuckle, as well as Shara, as the older children try to teach them how to catch the fireflies gently.

“I am curious,” You begin, turning your head to face the healer, “what is your story? How are you connected to this place?”

“Hm, well, I’ve lived here most of my life.” Shara began, raising her knees to her chest and placing her chin on them. “My mom died when I was pretty young. My father didn’t want me to be surrounded by grief, and so we relocated here. He built this cabin with his own two hands. And the children you see playing, well, he adopted them in a sense.”

You nodded along to her story as your took your first sip of the tea she had made you, relishing in the flavor and the warmth that pooled into your stomach from it.

“He died two years ago. He was the person that taught me everything I know about healing and spiritual herbalism. And I pass that teaching onto the children here. We are his legacy. One day they’ll go out into the world, learn more, teach more. And then their pupils will go further out and learn more and teach more. It was kind of my dads dream, you see. He wanted to cultivate the next generation of healers. I swore to myself that I would continue his dream after he passed.”

“You are a good daughter. Your father is proud, in whatever plane of existence he resides in.”

Shara watches as you take another sip of the tea, a proud smile making its way onto her lips. “Do you like it?”

“It is definitely a good drink. What is it, exactly?”

Shara thought for a moment, before reply, “It’s something called Black Panther Lily? It’s from my father’s secret stash. It felt appropriate to give it to you,” her words trailed off as you looked at her, confused on the name. “Black Panther Lily?”

“Mhm. I believe he said he got it from Wakanda?”

“Wakanda, you say…”

At the mention of the country, your eyes trailed back to the cup holding the delicious black liquid. The more you stared at your reflection in the cup, the deeper your mind seemed to travel back into your subconscious. The word kept ringing in your ears, and you could have sworn you heard it before.

Suddenly, the black liquid in the cup turned into dark onyx eyes, sported by the same woman who you had described for. You saw flashes of yourself with her, flashes of other people you were close with. Muffled words began to bleed into your ears, phrases of description, endearment, love, friendship. And your name…a montage of these people saying your name, and it became louder and louder until the voices became overwhelming and-

The next thing you know, the cup laid fallen on the ground, it’s context spilled and seeping into the earth below. Shara holds a hand on your upper harm, her face showing concern. You must have been out of it.

“Are you alright? You weren’t responding, I-”

“I know who I am now.”

Shara allowed her sentence to be cut off, as she released her hold on your arm, and looked at you with watchful eyes, seemingly asking you to reveal yourself.

“My name is (Y/N)...I am a daughter of Wakanda.” You muttered. It was at this moment you realized your wrist felt bare. Your other hand instinctively went to feel at the wrist which would normally be occupied by your kimoyo beads, but you found that space empty.

“Where are my beads?” You questioned the healer, as if she had any dea what you were talking about. She stared at you, confused for a moment, before her face turned to an expression that resembled realization. She got up quickly, disappearing into the doorway, only to return a moment later with a purple sack in her hand.

“I’m not sure what beads you’re talking about,” she confessed, “but when Yasmine found you, these remains were in the sand. We salvaged what we could find.”

You took the sack from her hands, opening the bag and examining the contents inside. Whatever had attacked you completely demolished your kimoyo beads, ruining any ideas you had for initiating communication back home. Also inside the bag were your twin blades, a gift to you from Shuri, and one of them had the blade separated from the hilt.

“And how long was I unconscious?” You questioned.

“Not counting today, three,” Shara replied, her worry growing, “what’s going on, (Y/N)?”

You muttered a curse under your breath. Three days since last contact, and a week and a half since you’ve been on Wakandan soil. They’re definitely looking for you.

It was at that moment a loud whirring sound made itself present, the volume startling the children. But it was what made the sound that had them running back to the cabin and rushing inside the wooden structure for safety. You and Shara stood up simultaneously; while she remained on high alert, her main goal being to guard the door and protect the children inside, you on the other hand, went to guard her. You were unsure of who was on the ship, but if it was any Dora, or worse, the General, it would be without a doubt they would suspect Shara as an enemy and attack. 

Once the massive ship had settled into it’s standby position, the mouth of the aircraft opened, and descending the walkpath were two women dressed in Dora Milaje attire, and the Princess, sporting one of her many futuristic streetwear outfits.

Your feet began to act on their own, taking a couple of steps towards the trio. Part of you was relieved that they found you. You remembered that before you blacked out, the last place you were was in the middle of the lake, retrieving a long lost artifact from a marine data collection ship. With your kimoyo beads being shattered, there was virtually no technological way of tracking your location. They would have had to go old school and search on foot. Had they?

As you made the conscious decision to stop walking, Shuri sprinted from Ayo and Aneka’s side, crashing into you with an embrace full of relief, thankful for your safety.

“Thank Bast you are safe!” The princess cried as you returned her hug, enveloping the younger woman in your arms. 

Though, what was a sweet moment turned sour when you felt her fist jab right into the area of injury.

“What were you thinking!?” Shuri shouted at you as you collapsed onto the ground, holding your midsection for dear life. “Are you a fool for taking on a mission such as this? You could have died! In all my years of knowing you, this is truly your most profound act of madness!”

“What the fuck did you just do!?” Shara’s shout of distress reminded you of her presence. You should have warned her of the princess’s rage, perhaps explain the relationship you two had, but it was all too late now.

“It’s fine, Shara!” you reassured through gritted teeth, “I deserved that- I really deserved that.”

It was a moment before the blinding pain had stopped. With the release of it being almost instantaneous, you could only assume Shuri had lifted your shirt from your back and slipped one of her kimoyo beads into the bandages to stablize the would she probably reopened. Once you were able to breath again, you confirmed as such by feeling the small bump underneath the white bandages on your back.

“I am getting you back for this, I hope you know,” you warned the princess as you sat up straight, now able to move without caution. Though, Shuri paid no mind to your warning, as she hugged you again, this time without ill intentions.

After your moment of embrace, you pulled away, remembering the healer behind you. It would be inappropriate to not introduce the two. Lifting Shuri up from her knees, you guided her closer to the cabin, where a shooken Shara still guarded the entrance way.

Shara attempted to warn you both to stay back, but you cut her off, “Shara, It’s okay. I am good, I promise. She poses no threat to you or the children.”

With your words, the healer seemed to relax a little, but still would not move from her position in the doorway.

“Shara, this is Princess Shuri of Wakanda. Shuri, this is Shara.” The princess and the healer exchanged an awkward wave, as Shara was still in disbelief of her actions towards you. “She started the healing process on my stomach - which I am sure you have reopened, thank you for that.”

“I apologize for frightening you,” Shuri said, a genuine look of regret painted on her face. “I promise you, I bring no harm. That is just, eh…how we are.”

“Uhuh…” Shara muttered, still overly confused by the entire ordeal.

“I guarantee you we have a stable, healthy sisterhood!”

Shara’s gaze turns to you, questioningly, “This is the woman you had that flashback about?”

It took a moment to remember what Shara was referencing, but once you did, you shook your head feverishly. “Oh-Oh hell no. This-This is my sister, I cannot imagine anyone who would want to date her-”

“Excuse me?” The princess says, with a facial expression equivalent of the phrase ‘say it again, I dare you’.

“I mean-” you backtracked, “-you are so lovely! Anyone would be grateful of your courtship!”

“That is what I thought.”

Though, reflecting on Shara’s words, you did notice that there were only two Dora accompanying Shuri, and not three.

Had Okoye not come? 

A part of you ached at the idea that she may not have come with them, but given the severity of your argument prior to your mission, if you were in her position, you would not come either.

You remember the harsh words you spoke to her, out of anger and desperation. It made you want to rip the kimoyo bead from your back and welcome back the pain in your abdomen, if it were to replicate whatever Okoye must have felt in that moment. How could you have hurt the woman you loved you deeply, with words that flew from your mouth based on emotion and not rationale.

You were too deep into your thoughts to notice that Shuri was gesturing for you to snap out of it. Apparently Shuri and Shara had been talking for a moment before noticing you had dissociated. You gently shook your head of the fuzz that formed in your mind, responding with a low “Huh?”

“Has she been doing this often?” Shuri asks, her question directed to Shara.

“It happened maybe once or twice earlier, but like i said, she’d been out of it until today.”

“Why do you wound my heart, princess…” You whined, feigning distress as you gripped your heart dramatically. The action brought a smile to Shuri and Shara’s face, and as they found entertainment in your dramatics, you bent down to pick up the purple sack long forgotten on the ground.

“As great as this encounter has been, we must return home,” Shuri's voice was filled with something along the lines of dejection, as if she did not want to leave this newfound acquaintance just yet. “Someone has some explaining to do.” The princess added on, and to you, her words held much more meaning than what meets the eye.

Shara nodded in response, ready to bid you two farewell. But as you began walking off with the princess, something along the lines of unease settled in your stomach. You could not distinguish the cause, but when you turned your head back to watch Shara reassure the children that were peaking their heads from the doorway, something deep inside urged you to ask her one final question.

You told Shuri and the pair of Dora that you would join them in a little bit, as you turned back to approach the cabin once more.

“Shara,” you called out, and the healer raised her head, diverting the attention she was giving to the child at her leg to you. As your feet stopped at the edge of the patio you found yourself waking up on early that morning, you inhaled deeply, clenching and unclenching your fists for grounding.

“Ungubani(Who Are You)?” You spoke in Xhosa.

There was a long pause as the two of you held eye contact for what felt like an eternity. Then she responded.

“I am T’Jari,” Shara answered, “daughter of N’Joba and Zusu.”

Your stomach’s unease was finally quelled.

“Did you know I was…?”

“I had my suspicions,” Shara confessed, “the pieces of those beads and the weapon I found scattered in the sand around you were unlike any technology I’ve ever seen before. Certainly not American. Her reference to the kimoyo beads and your twin blades made you instinctively grip onto the neck of the sack a bit tighter.

“It’s also why I gave you the Black Panther Lily tea,” Shara continues, “my father had a stash hidden away. If cultivated and used the right way, it’s properties can allow for memory restoration in the event of amnesia on any level. It was the first thing my father taught me…when my mothers health started to fail and her memory was leaving her…”

You recalled the story she had told you of her origins. A mothers death, a father’s wish for contentment for his daughter.

“Besides my name, everything else I said was true,” Shara responded to your silence, as if she knew you had been questioning the validity of her identity.

“Why don’t you come home?” You asked, without thinking, without taking into consideration how this cabin by the lake was the only home she’d ever known. “You could be a healer in Wakanda, and you could bring the children. Your skills rival that of the elders, I’m sure it would not be hard to find work-”

“I can’t, (Y/N),” Shara interrupts you, her face holding remorse. Her response silenced you. “I will not rip these children from the only home they’ve ever known, and I cannot tear myself away from this place my father built with his own two hands. And there are people here to teach, people who want to learn. I can’t leave,”

Her determination and drive reminded you of the war dogs of your country, those who valiantly serve the outside world, attempting to make it a better place for future generations to come. And from Shara’s appearance she reminded you of a certain war dog who stole the heart of a certain royal long ago.

“I understand.” You replied, solemnly.

“That doesn’t mean go and become a stranger,” Shara reassured, “I’m sure the princess knows my location now. Come and visit! Just…not washed up on the shore anymore.”

You laughed at Shara’s words, bidding her farewell, before turning on your heel and walking to the ship.

You found yourself sitting on the same boulder from your memory, feet firm on the ground, and the sound of the waves from the water crashing into the shore overwhelming your senses. The smell of the water was calming, and soothed your heavy heart.

You and Okoye had to talk.

Despite being on the same aircraft, neither of you were ready to speak. You shared an embrace with one another; she approached you first, crashing into you in a flash of red, and for a moment, everything that had been the cause of this whole ordeal washed away when you wrapped your arms around each other.

Besides that, there had been nothing but silence between the two of you since you’ve returned home. But you needed to talk. You needed to clear things up and apologize. You needed closure.

It was dusk. The sun sat half way along the horizon, casting a beautiful golden hour that made your skin glow like gold. But when you saw Okoye walking up from the distance, your breath caught in your throat by the wonders the golden shine did to hers.

You made space on the boulder for her to sit and for a moment, there was silence between you two. Your gaze was straight, admiring the way the water met with the shore, engulfing the sand, but pulling back, only to do the same thing again.

“Hi.”

“...Hi.” For the first time you found yourself unable to speak.

Another moment of silence passed before Okoye spoke again. “A lot has happened on this beach, hasn’t it?”

“Mmh,” was all you could muster. It was strange how the words you planned to say left the moment she came into your presence.

“I owe you an explanation,” she spoke again, but your eyes stayed steady on the water. “A pause.”

“I did not know how I felt about you. You were a friend to me,” ‘were’; past tense.

“Someone I could depend on when I had no one. And I valued it with my life. And then W’Kabi happened. And I did not know how greatly I hurt you when you had to watch me be given away to him. I had my…suspicions, about how you felt. It was selfish of me to ask that of you, and for that I am sorry.”

You licked your lips, still silent, as Okoye continued.

“And when our marriage dissolved, you were still there. As you always were. You held me and comforted me in my heartache. And when I longed for a comfort I thought no one else could provide, you were there. And you provided it. And we…indulged. I continued to take, and take, and take from you, and you willingly gave, and gave, and gave to me without question. I acknowledge that my actions have drained you beyond replenishment, and for that, I am deeply sorry.”

Okoye watches your face. Unmoved. Tears  began prickling at the edge of your eyelids.

“I wanted to stop because I was confused. I thought I was committing some act of injustice, that what we were engaging in was not sincere-” You wanted bite back at her here, question her on exactly who she thought was not sincere in your engagement, but you bit your tongue and let her speak, “-and I could not comprehend your affections and how genuine they were…I did not wish to be betrayed again.”

There it was. The explanation you so desperately prayed for. And as the truth was revealed, the tears which formed in your eyes began to trickle down your face.

“But when you left - when you went on that mission, without telling me, despite detailing the dangers you were to face…I was losing my mind.”

You finally divert your eyes to face Okoye, only to see she had been looking at you the entire time.

“I was losing my mind. I could not sleep. I did not eat. I only worried about you. And when you did not return, I felt as if I were going mad. Deranged at the thought of losing you. And it was at that moment that my emotions became clear to me.”

Okoye’s hand reached for yours, and you let her take hold of it. She interlocked your fingers, and encased your hands with her other one. You watched as she did so, your eyes slowly raising back to meet hers.

“I cannot lose you. In any proximity. You are more important to me than anything in this world. And…if you would have me,” the general paused, taking a deep breath to stabilize her breathing, “I promise to live for you, and work to right the wrongs I have done to you.”

By now your face was ridden with tears, your voice long gone. There was a long pause in which you searched the other woman’s eyes, unsure of what you were looking for. A crumb of a lie, a sliver of deceit, perhaps. But you found none. Only ingenuity. Only affection.

After what felt like an eternity in silence, the sound of the waves your only background noise, you raised your free hand to rest at the back of her neck. You rested your forehead on Okoye’s, closing your eyes, and finally releasing the breath you didn't know you were holding.

Okoye’s eyes fluttered closed as well, and for a moment you just rested there, basking in each other’s presence. 

“I will have you,” you whispered against her lips, “I will have you until my dying breath, when Bast calls me to be with the ancestors.”

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Can we talk about how in the very first episode of Stuck In The Middle not even 3 mins in Jenna Ortega said that if her family was a week she’d be Wednesday and 6 years later … here she is Wednesdays child full of Woe.

This the one y’all. I just …

The wlw urge of calling someone my wife

This would totally be me not even gon lie

Y/N: I had the weirdest dream; I was locked in a room with several versions of you who were trying to kiss me. But I'm a faithful girlfriend, and I turned them all down.

Wanda: I wouldn't be jealous of my variants, babe.

Y/N: Oh, Thank god! I totally hook up with everyone.

Wanda:

Wanda: You're sleeping on the couch tonight.

That had me hollering

i’m screaming