“You know,” Tony starts, walking slowly beside Steve as they make their way out of the Avengers compound, “I need to take a page out of you and Barton’s book.”
Steve chuckles, resting his hands on his belt, “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, I mean. Pep and I just can’t find the time to settle down, you know? She doesn’t want to give up control of Stark Industries and,” He peeks out over the rims of his expensive sunglasses at the tall blonde man, “You know me.” He shrugs.
Steve can’t help but smile, nodding his head in agreeance, “You do like a good party.”
The playboy shrugs, cocking his eyebrow and flashing that million dollar smile that Steve knows all too well. Tony tilts his wrist toward him, illuminating the state of the art Hublot watch, “You should get home to those babies. Take the Audi.”
He tosses the key fob haphazardly into the air, know that Steve will undoubtedly and skillfully catch it. He shoves his hands into his pockets and takes a step before Steve calls, “I can’t, Tony. I’ve got my bike.”
“Live a little, will ya?”
“Tony-“
The billionaire just lifts his hand into the air, continuing his stroll toward his own vehicle, “See you when I see you old man.”
Steve rolls his eyes but smiles all the way through, “Since when is a hundred old?” He calls loudly, “I feel like a teenager!”
“You look like one too.”
Steve watches for a few minutes more as Tony jumps behind the wheel of his other brand new, shiny Audi and speeds off down the dirt road. His blue green eyes land on the orange Audi R8. He takes a step toward it and quirks his eyebrow toward the sky as the engine automatically roars to life. He stops, and the car rolls toward him slowly, coming to a stop right at his feet. He starts walking toward the road and the car follows slowly beside him. He stops, and so does the car. Tony and his toys.
Steve slides behind the wheel and is soon twisting and turning his way through upstate New York. Autumn has fallen over the state with burnt orange and red leaves littering the ground as he burns across the pavement. He makes a left turn and makes his way down the familiar gravel road, his body relaxing as soon as their hideaway breaks into his view. It’s an old farmhouse that they are still, slowly working on, but it’s coming along. If aliens could just quit invading the city, he’d have some time to finish that playroom. He rolls to a slow stop in front of his humble abode and swings the door open, placing his feet on the grass. He lowers his head into his hands, finally taking a moment for himself. He’s home. Where he belongs.
He moves like a cat through the front yard and up the stairs of the porch, his heart fluttering all the while. He’s ready to hear their little voices. He steps through the front door and is met with a deafening silence. It makes him stop dead in his tracks. There’s no Spongebob from the tv, no music from the stereo, no screaming or fighting or laughing or crying. His wife’s heavy accent usually rings through the house but there’s nothing. He exhales slowly as the hair on his arms stands erect. It doesn’t feel right. He closes the door slowly behind him and immediately takes to the stairs, climbing them quickly and quietly, his ears and eyes honed in on any slight change in his atmosphere.
He hits the top step and moves toward their bedroom door which is slightly ajar. His mouth drops open as his breath becomes heavy. He pushes the door with his hand slowly, the contents of his bedroom slowly being revealed to him. His closes his eyes and lets out a shaky breath as his wife’s sleeping form comes into view. She’s nestled in the middle of their king sized bed, completely surrounded by their four curly headed girls. Arms and legs and hair are strewn about, intertwined with each other like vines as they slumber. He’s been out there too long this time. Silence shouldn’t scare him like this. He moves into the room and drops to his knees at the side of the bed, stretching his hand toward Okoye’s pregnant belly. Baby number five. Another girl. He rubs her belly, closing his eyes again as he tries to calm himself down. You’re home Steve. You can act like it.
He pulls away from his wife and brushes some curly, light brown disheveled hair out of their youngests’ face. He smiles softly as he watches her, her pretty little lips murmuring slightly as she inhales deeply. Sarah. After his mother. She’s just barely two but is a force to be reckoned with. She’s sweet but strong, caring but intensely diplomatic. She’s an old soul. Next in line is three year old Amara; curled around her mother, her arms around her neck and chest, her sweet face buried in her mother’s neck. She takes after Steve the most. Her eyes are big and wide, a light hazel in color. Her dark, long eyelashes splay against her caramel skin as she inhales and exhales with all the calmness a person can muster. She’s tall for her age, agile, confident but shy. She’s quiet and brooding, always wanting to just do the right thing.
Ch’Tea and Kisani are on the other side of Okoye, nestled within each other. Twins. Their first borns. He remembers it like it was just yesterday. Okoye had been in labor for almost two days. Any longer, the doctors warned, and they had to take them out via surgery. Okoye refused adamantly. They’ll come when they come. It’s up to them. They handed him his babies just as that beautiful Wakandan sunset broke through the sky. That feeling of having them, his babies, something he helped create, in his arms was indescribable and irreplaceable. He’s done so many things, incredible things, otherwise impossible things. He’s been to so many places, seen more than what the history books can describe, but nothing holds up to that moment. Not even punching Adolf Hitler. He’d never known love; a true love, a lasting, living, breathing love until he met Okoye, but, he never knew an unconditional love, an unprovoked love, until he held those babies in his hands. Hisbabies.
He stands, shedding out the of the last remnants of Captain America and tosses them to the floor. It’s time to be daddy. He shrugs into his sweatpants and moves to the other side of their large crowded bed, his footsteps heavy against the wooden floor. He pats Bingo’s head, the chihuahua/terrier mix that wandered out the woods and into their backyard a few months ago, as he too sleeps comfortably at the end of the bed. Steve climbs over the small bodies of Ch’Tea and Kisani, his weight dipping the mattress as it creaks and squeaks under the added pressure. He settles next to his wife and brushes his lips over her forehead, closing his eyes again as he lets his body relax. He pulls the twins into him, pressing their warm bodies to his as his exhaustion quickly catches up with him.
A hand slinks around his neck protectively and her long fingers dig into his blonde hair, “I think I like Dolores for the little one.”
Her voice is soft and sleepy, wafting over him like a warm breeze. He chuckles lightly, replacing his hand on her budding stomach, “It’s growing on you, huh?” He whispers back.
She shrugs, never opening her eyes as she continues to massage his head lightly. She rests her free hand on Amara’s arm that’s slung across her chest as a smile spreads on her lips, “Yeah. Dolores Azzuri Rogers.”
He’s quiet for a few moments, letting the name move around his brain before he starts to give in to the sleep, “It’s perfect.” He exhales.
Sarah begins to stir beside her mother, humming softly as her father’s voice breaks into her subconscious. She sits up quickly, rubbing at her eyes furiously before swiping her small, chubby hand across her forehead. She turns her head, her eyes still half closed as she begins to whine softly, “Mama…”
“Shhhh,” Steve coos softly, opening his eyes slightly as he tries to calm her, “It’s okay baby girl.”
“Daddy.” She reaches for him, extending her arms and flexing her fingers toward him, “Hol’ me daddy.”
Steve obliges, sitting up a little to pull her gently over her sleeping sister and mother. He finds a small space between himself, Okoye, and Ch’Tea and Kisani, and settles her down, draping his large arm over the three of them, “My sweet, sweet Sarah baby.” He whispers, tickling her stomach and smiling as her little giggle fills the quiet room, “You like the name Dolores?”
She nods sleepily, twisting her body to face her sleeping twin sisters and father, “You like, daddy?”
“I do.”
“You mama?”
Okoye nods softly, “I love it.”
“Then I like too. You pick middle yet?”
“Azzuri.” Okoye answers, “You know who that is?”
“Nuh uh.” The young girl answers as she lifts Steve’s hand in the air, intertwining her little fingers with his before tracing the lines on his palm.
“That is your uncle T’Challa’s grandfather.” Steve answers, pulling her hand toward his lips to kiss every last one of her chubby fingers, “He was a king.”
“And he was the fiercest Black Panther there ever was. He never lost a battle.” Okoye finishes, “Uncle T’Challa loved him dearly.”
Sarah brings her father’s hand to her own lips and plants a kiss in his palm, smiling as she’s rewarded with a chuckle from him. The young girl yawns sweetly and cuddles into her sisters, rubbing her hand against Steve’s skin as she drifts back into a peaceful sleep. Okoye turns her head toward his and plants a small kiss on the tip of his nose as best she can, “You’re home now, right?” She questions, her voice still soft, “No more avenging until after Dolores is here?”
“I’m all yours, doll.”
She smiles again. He returns a soft kiss on her cheek and nuzzles into Kisani’s hair as Ch’Tea wraps her small hand around his bicep. The parents drift off to sleep again, comfortable and warm, surrounded by their babies.
Steve, or Captain as she likes to refer to him, doesn’t come to Wakanda much. T’Challa invites him often, even Bucky reaches out every now and again, but the Captain likes to keep his distance. There’s not much he can do without a bunch of hoopla surrounding him now. He knows how hard the Wakandans have worked to keep their privacy. He doesn’t want to ruin that. He’s come to love T’Challa and Shuri, the whole country really. He respects them too much to want to drag them and their beautiful people into the tabloids.
Hedoes visit though; sometimes for business, sometimes for pleasure. Sometimes a guy just wants to watch a sunset, you know? Having bullets fly over your head and taking spinning back kicks to the face isn’t as awesome as the media makes it seem. Sometimes you need to get away. But the Captain has a secret. The secret, you ask? The secret is that even when on business in Wakanda, it always ends in pleasure. Because of her. Nobody knows of course. They’re both professional, only speak to one another when it’s warranted, other than that, communication is next to nil. The Captain will sneak a few glances at her when he’s sure no one is looking. She stands stoic, her face calm but fierce as her King lays out his plan. The sun glints on the gold jewelry around her neck and makes the intricate patterns on her uniform glimmer. She takes a deep breath as she squints her eyes slightly, her lips pursed as T’Challa’s words resonate and sink in. She’s all business in these things.
Once the meeting is over, the Captain lingers with T’Challa and Shuri for a bit but manages to sneak off without being noticed. He waits in a dark corridor, running his hand through his newly grown out blonde locks before scratching at the beard on his chin. It’s itchy as fuck, but she likes it, so he keeps it. It’s that simple. He hears their spears slam against the ground in quick succession and then her voice spouting out their orders. He tucks back into the shadows as T’Challa and Shuri pass, Shuri being the only one to notice him lurking in the dark. She doesn’t speak or call to him, she just winks and shoots him a finger gun before skipping ahead of her idiot brother. His heart begins to beat faster and harder in his chest at the thought of finally getting her alone. He looks down at his feet, tapping his fingers against his leg as her voice grows louder as she approaches.
She’s still spouting off orders to another Dora, who listens intently before crossing her arms in an X across her chest and moving in the opposite direction. The Captain peaks out before he starts counting her steps as she nears. Five, four, three, two… He reaches out quickly, grabbing her wrist and pulling her in the shadows with him. She’s crushed up against his chest within a second and his lips are on hers like white on rice. She moans into his mouth as her hands creep up to his shoulders before snaking into his slicked back hair. He allows her to take a breath, feeling her breasts push into his chest as she inhales deeply; but because her mouth tastes so good, he steals the air from her before she can fully push it out. His mouth is back on hers as he wraps his large hands around her tiny little waist, pulling her into him as close as he can stand.
They finally break apart. They don’t speak. They just stare at each other as he towers over her, his mind racing but hers completely still. Before this, business was business and pleasure was pleasure for the General. But now? It’s all a little mixed up. She likes that. She likes that he makes her just a little mixed up.
“Captain,” Her voice slipping through her teeth like silk as she nods slightly toward him.
“General,” He returns softly.
Her dark eyes stare back into his blue ones for a minute more before she smirks softly. She turns and walks off, leaving the Captain to smile to himself before he heads back into the light to find Bucky. Night has fallen. The General and the Captain don’t see each other for the rest of the afternoon. She slips out of her towel as she moves from her bathroom into her sprawling bedroom. She stops abruptly as she hears the soft beep of her code being punched into the keypad. Her lips part slightly as the door beeps and then clicks. Her stomach tightens as the walls of her femininity constrict slightly. She swallows harshly before trying to clear the arousal out of her throat. She grabs her small circular container of cocoa butter and unscrews the cap just as his hands snake around her hips. She closes her eyes as he nuzzles into her neck and takes in a deep breath of her.
The Captain digs his fingers into the body butter before planting a soft kiss on her shoulder, “Here, let me.”
The Captain starts at her shoulders. He rubs his hands together, coating his palms and fingers with the body butter before spreading it along her broad shoulders. He pushes his hands along the top of her back before sliding them down to her shoulder blades. The General lets her head loll back some; her eyes close as her lips part slightly. W’Kabi could never. He presses his thumbs into her flesh and applies a steady pressure as he moves down the length of her spine, rubbing slow circles into her already radiant skin. He reaches her lower back and lets his fingers spread along her sides, keeping a hold of her as he presses deeper into her tight muscles. A slow smile spreads on her lips. She lets out a soft moan. Her hand snakes up into his long, dirty blonde tresses and she takes a firm grip, biting her bottom lip as he massages her.
He leans into her, bringing his lips down to meet her neck. The Captain isn’t a rough lover. He’s kind. He’s gentle. He doesn’t paw at her, he doesn’t devour her; he just simply kisses her. Each one is warm and slow. Each one is perfect. She turns slowly in his hands so that her big, brown eyes can scour his serious blue ones. She lays each one of her arms on his shoulders as her eyes dip down to his pretty, plump, pink lips. She’d never seen an American with such lips before. She lets out a breath as her eyes move around his boyish face. He looks tired. Both physically and emotionally. She palms the side of his face and he nuzzles into her touch, kissing her small palm quickly.
“Steve.”
Her voice is soft; much softer than what he’s used to hearing from her. They don’t really talk much when they’re together. They really don’t have to. He gets her, and she gets him, without having to explain it or put it into words. She just gets it. He, just gets it. He tightens his grip around her hips and pulls her a little closer to his body, “Okoye.”
His voice is always soft, no matter how tough he tries to sound. His gentle confidence is what makes him intimidating. His morals, his decency, is what makes him a tough guy. The fact that he just wants to do the right thing is what makes him a hero. But there’s something brewing. She can tell by looking at him now. She could feel it earlier when they were with T’Challa and Bucky, but neither would let her in on the secret. Not yet anyway. She doesn’t want to ruin the evening this early but the warrior in her can’t let it go.
“What’s going on?”
He drags his eyes from her thick lips to her eyes, “Nothing.”
His voice is so soft.
He’s lying, and she knows it. He knows she knows it. He doesn’t want to worry about that now- that’s not why he came here tonight. Tonight, he doesn’t want to be Captain America. He doesn’t want the looming threat of Thanos and the impending death of millions upon millions of people on his conscious. He just wants to sink into her like he has time and time before, loosing himself in her femininity, her touch, her void. He just wants to be Steve. He just wants her to be Okoye.
So, he doesn’t bring it up. He doesn’t mention Thanos, he doesn’t mention that within days they’ll be fighting for humanity on a massive scale. He just grabs her hands and walks her to the side of her big, comfortable bed. They stop once they reach the side and he pulls both of her hands to his lips, kissing each knuckle softly. His lifts his eyes slowly, letting them roam along her face, from her eyes, to her lips, to her nose, down to her fingers intertwined with his. He likes looking at her. She’s so different from what he’s used to. He remembers running his fingers through blonde hair, gazing into blue eyes, pushing his mouth against thin lips, brushing his hands along fair, light skin. He didn’t know electricity existed between a man and a woman until he touched her radiant, dark skin. Until he kissed her full, plump lips. Until he lost himself in her deep, stormy, focused, brown eyes. He likes looking at her.
“Lay down?”
It’s more of a question than it is a statement. It’s soft. Airy. He’s still unsure of himself in this world. He’s a prisoner almost, doing his seventy-year sentence, suddenly thrust into a world that’s forgotten him; left him behind. She’s not hard on him like she is with everyone else. He needs some understanding, he needs some support while he tries to reconcile his existence with this world. She lays down. She takes a deep breath and expels it slowly as she throws an arm over her head. She eyes him as he moves around the bed to grab her cocoa butter once more. He’s still in his suit. She likes this one. It’s not flashy or bright like the first one. It matches his personality; dark and brooding, yet confident and masculine. Brave. That’s the epitome of him.
The Captain spreads more of the oily body butter in his palm and moves onto the bed, the mattress sinking down with his weight. He straddles her legs, starting at her flat stomach. He rubs in slow circles, tilting his head as he moisturizes her skin. He pushes his hands up along her ribs, his thumbs curving with the natural shape of her breasts. He shifts his eyes toward hers. He’s asking permission. It’s the gentleman in him. Her lips curve slightly, pulling at her cheeks, silently signing his permission slip. He gives his fingers the go ahead and they sweep over her tight, thick nipples. She bites her lip as her body shifts instinctively at the gentle touch of him. This is what she likes. She controls everything. All the time. She controls everyone around her. Every inch of everything is in its place and doesn’t move until she says so. But not now, not with him. She turns over the control to him, whether he knows or even recognizes it. He gets her to jump, to shiver, to moan; unexpectedly. That’s what she likes. The not knowing.
He massages her mountains gently, exploring the peaks of her nipples to the valley of her chest between her proud breasts. He skims his fingers down her stomach once more, his light touch tickling her sexually heightened skin. She jumps lightly and giggles. Picture it, Okoye, fierce warrior, leader, General, giggling. He’s so proud of himself. He pulls away from her quickly to reapply some body butter to his hands once more. He scoots down to the edge of the bed and pulls at her leg, lifting it slowly to place her foot on his chest. He leans in a little, blinking up at her as he places both palms on her thigh. He keeps his eyes on hers as he smooths the cocoa butter into her skin, running his hands along her. After mere minutes, her breath gets deep and ragged. Her mouth falls open as she sits up some, her hips shifting and moving with her desire as it rises. He lifts her foot and kisses it sweetly, taking a moment to admire the bright red polish that adorns her toes. The Captain slips his hand down the length of her leg but stops centimeters from her heat. He throws his eyes toward her again and her body responds instantly. The anticipation bubbles underneath her skin. Her hips roll with the anticipation, a sweet moan scrapes at the back of her throat with the anticipation. She wants him to touch her. She needs him to touch her.
“Steve,” she begs.
He hesitates still. Then, after a beat, or two or three, he loses his nerve and pushes his hand back up her leg. She slams her head and body back against the mattress, a frustrated groan pushing through her teeth. This is his only flaw. This isn’t the time to be polite, Captain. There’s no need to have manners here. She sits up quickly before she realizes what she’s doing. She pulls his face toward hers, crashing her lips to his almost in a frenzy. It takes him by surprise, but then again, she always does. He moans softly as her tongue splits his lips. She grabs his hand and pushes it down to her sex. She moans lightly, pushing the air out of her lungs and into his mouth in a hurry as his fingertips graze along her hot, silky folds. Her fingers stay with his as she moves them along her pearl, guiding him, nudging him to take control.
Her hot breath washes over his face as she pants, her hips rolling and bucking into his hand. She leans back, letting her hands hold her weight against the bed as her head falls in between her shoulders. It’s just him now, working her up into a ball of ecstasy as her fingers grip the white sheets underneath her. Her voice fills the quiet room as her moans grow louder, mixing with the sound of her wetness. That’s right. Captain America has her so wet, he can hear it. She sits up straight again, again pulling him to her as her fingers dig into his hair. She kisses him. She bites down on his bottom lip; hard enough to make him grunt. He likes that about her too; her aggression. On the battle field, in the war room, in the bedroom. It’s all a turn on.
His fingers slow against her. He reaches for her hand, pulling her fingers down toward his, replacing them completely. He slides off the bed slowly as she watches him, his eyes dipping away from her for just a second as he stands up again. He starts stripping away Captain America, article by article, until he’s left in his black boxer briefs. The General takes a deep breath at the sight of him. He advances toward her slowly, placing one knee, and then the other, on the mattress as he moves forward. He crawls over her as she lays back onto the bed. His blonde hair falls in his face as he hovers over her. He captures her lips in a strong, passionate kiss as her hands roam up his forearms to his biceps. They round his broad shoulders before venturing down his rippled back. He feels good. On top of her, inside of her, he just feels so good.
Her legs spread without coaxing, wrapping themselves around his waist, her heels pushing his hips down to hers. She pushes at the thin, black material of his boxer briefs with her toes as his lips move from her mouth to her neck, his teeth scraping at her skin before he bites down softly. He remembers what she likes, what she needs, and he wants to give it to her; just the way she wants it. The General manages to wrestle the last piece of clothing between them away from his hips and pushes them down his thighs and calves, springing him free. His manhood pushes against her thigh and a shiver rushes through her again. Anticipation; she loves it. Her stomach tightens at the mere thought of him sliding into her, spreading her. She moans. His tongue slips along her collar bone before he puckers his lips against her skin in another kiss on her body.
“Steveeee.”
It’s forceful; soft in nature but forceful in tone. She needs him. He pushes a hand underneath her and pulls her up from the mattress. He sits back on his knees, his hands on her hips, guiding her. She rests her hands on his shoulders, gripping at his flesh as he pushes at her opening. Her eyes close as she sinks down on him slowly. So, so, slowly. She lets out a breath. He tightens his grip on her hips, his fingers indenting her flesh as his breath hitches in his throat. He might be old, but this feeling never changes. It’s always the same, but different each time.
Her hands slide along his shoulders and wrap around his neck loosely, the tips of her fingers in his hair. She pulls up, then sinks down on him again, readjusting her hips as she stretches to his size. He fills her perfectly. She feels him everywhere; in her stomach, in her veins, in her mind even. It’s like, he was meant for her. Meant to please her and her alone. What an unlikely pair; funny how these things work out. She rides him slowly, letting her head roll back on her shoulders, her face toward the ceiling as she clings to his shoulders for stability. He pulls her closer, crushing his bare chest to hers as he peppers kisses along the side of her face and neck and shoulders. Her skin is his savior. Her skin is his home now. It’s his warmth, his happiness, his comfort. It keeps him sane. It keeps him fed.
They move slowly against each other, savoring the sweetness of their sex; the only solace either one of them can seem to find nowadays. She appreciates her gentle lover. He appreciates the beast that unfurls in her at times. He switches their position, flatting her back on the bed once more. His weight on top of her sinks her deeper into the mattress. She loves the heaviness of him. He continues to push into her body with his own, running his hand up her leg that curls around him again. He places his hands on either side of her face as he fucks her. It’s like she’s basking in a warm summer day. His eyes on her, his breath warming her skin as his own breath turns ragged and heavy. She watches as his eyes flutter and his dark eyelashes rest against his light skin. His moans and grunts are so delicious, she could eat them. They add and mix with her own lust and passion, turning her on more, wetting her more.
He fucks her with conviction. Spearing her deep and hard, each stroke having its own objective. He’s got her writhing now. Her feet press against the sheets, her toes flexing and then curling in as they slide up and down the mattress. She can feel her blood rushing through her veins as the fire in her stomach rises. Her body tightens and convulses around him, every penetration threatening to send her right over the edge of her desire. The Captain is close to his own end, his hips faltering slightly as heat rises in his face. His eyes close, his mouth opens, as he rests his forehead to hers. Her body jerks. She tenses as a loud mewl escapes her lungs. She digs her fingers into his back again as her body tightens around him for the final time. He slams into her one last time and she’s a goner. The pressure that had been building boils over and explodes through her, setting every fiber of her body on fire as her orgasm rips through her. It’s like a tsunami. Each wave larger and stronger, taller than the one before it. It totally levels her. Just like a small city on the edge of the vast, unforgiving ocean. The Captain is just along for the ride.
The General shudders as her body defies every sense of order and restraint it knows. Her feminine howls become muffled as he kisses her again. He gives up the fight moments later, grunting into her open mouth as he spills into her. They both breath heavy, gasping for air, huffing and puffing as they regain consciousness. She can’t help but smile, a few giggles erupting from her chest as she runs her long fingers up and down his spine. He rests his head on her chest and blinks slowly as he stares out of the large bay windows that adorn the walls of her apartment. The monotonous stroking of her fingers on his skin pulls him into a peace that he thought he’d never feel again. He blinks slowly out into the sky, full of bright stars and a moon that looks as though it was painted there. He blinks slowly. She stares up at the ceiling, her mind finally at peace but full of wild dreams and fantasies. She blinks slowly.
The Captain and the General are full of words and feelings that neither know exist in one another. Neither will speak them into existence for fear of what the other will say- or won’t say. The unlikely pair, remember? They’ll keep it that way. At least for tonight. They’ll just cherish the time they have together, knowing that he’ll be gone in a few days and that they won’t speak again until they do. They’ll keep it that way. At least until someone gains the courage to make it real. That’s not tonight.
Days pass. They’re on their way to a battle of epic proportions. The General stands tall between the Captain and her King. Wakanda’s greatest warriors stand behind them, awaiting the arrival of the very threat that brought the Captain to Wakanda in the first place. Alien vessels land in the distance. The General takes a deep breath as her mind stills. This is who they are. This is what they do. T’Challa eyes their opponents before beginning their battle scream.
“Yibombe! Yibombe! Yibombe!”
The General slams her spear against the ground as she chants. Nothing else in the moment matters. Or so she thought. Then, suddenly, fingers curl around hers, intertwining like vines. She turns her head and locks eyes with the Captain. His eyes move around her face before they reconnect with hers. He doesn’t have to say a word for her to hear what he’s saying. She smiles softly. A smile, or a ghost of a smile, tugs at the corners of his mouth and they both just know. If they make it out of this, things will be different. It’s real now. It’s in the air, swirling around them. He turns his head back toward the landing space ships before him. If they make it through this, things will be different between them.
He takes a breath. She blinks slowly. T’Challa crosses his arms over his chest, his mask materializing over his face. Thanos points their direction and both sides take off in a sprint, meeting one another in the middle. If they make it out of this, things will be different between the Captain and the General.
Took me long enough! Sorry, I had to work today and then when I got home, I took a nap, lmao. But anyway, here is another CapKoye one shot for the Captains’ birthday. I was gonna tag everybody, but it’s late and I’m tired and I have to get up at 3am for work tomorrow. I’ll tag everyone tomorrow :)
edit 7/5 - adding tags… let me know if you don’t want to be tagged anymore, lol, and if you’ve already liked/reblogged/sent me a note, sorry for tag :)
The Captain and the General have come to an agreement after quite a few long conversations about it. He loves Wakanda, he really does, but he’s a Brooklyn kid. The street hot dogs, the smell of trash wafting through the air, the incessant police sirens and honking cars; it’s home. She would sigh heavily at every mention of it, but those big blue-green eyes eventually won her over. So now, they spend their winters and springs in Wakanda, and their summers and autumns in Brooklyn. T’Challa teased her endlessly when she first approached the idea with him but assured her that Ayo was more than capable of handling her responsibilities while she’s away. He sent her off with his blessing, and a shitty smirk playing on his lips.
She hated it at first, being in America that is. There were only two things she would look forward to about her impending “vacation”; vanilla bean frappuccinos from Starbucks and today. This day has quickly become one of her favorites for a multitude of reasons, but today is especially special and she has big plans for them both. She wakes earlier than usual to get in her run and to get her liquid cocaine while he sleeps in. It sounds silly. Captain America sleeping in, but this is one of the only days that he obliges her. She holds tight to her green and white cup as she jogs up the six flights of stairs to his- their apartment. The door sticks a little, so she turns the knob and pushes her hip against it, bumping into it three or four times before it finally pops open.
PAIRINGS; Okoye x Harley Quinn || Okoye x Steve Rogers [CapKoye] || Okoye x Sam Wilson || Okoye x Bucky Barnes [BucKoye] || Okoye x Natasha Romanoff || Okoye x T’Challa || Okoye x Valkryie || Okoye x black!reader
NOTE; In honor of Valentine’s Day and Danai Gurira’s birthday, I decided to write some drabbles starring our girl Okoye. I’m still working on these, I got way more requests than I honestly expected! Thanks to everyone who sent in a request!
I had to take a break from my scheduled black history month drawings to celebrate Black Panther. Guys wow, wow. There is a little black girl in me that is jumping with joy screaming at the sight of this movie. Then there is the adult side of me that is extremely ecstatic for the doors this movie is starting to open. I’m ecstatic for not just this movie, but all the movies that will follow. Diverse story telling has just begun and I am ready to see all the beautiful, nerdy, action packed stories that will be made by people of color.
