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mermaidchansons · 1 year

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Warm Colors: Chapter 9 (FINAL)

SugarDaddy!M’Baku x Oshun(reader)

Summary: Oshun celebrates her 32nd birthday. M’Baku gets some choice words from T’Challa that make him rethink his last conversation with the love of his life.

Words: 3500+

Warnings: None

Author’s Note: This is it. The final chapter, y’all! Thank you so much to those who read and re-read this story, even throughout my absence from writing during the lockdown. I have fallen in love with these characters over and over again. I really enjoyed growing with this story as a writer and a sad little slut. Love y’all.

Translations: Awufuni ukuyiphinda loo nto(you don’t want to repeat that), Intloko (chief), sthandwa (my love), ukukhanya kobomi bam (light of my life), Ikumkani wam (my queen)

Chapter 9

“Hey, Google, play It Gets Better by The Internet.”

The Google home blared music throughout the studio loft as Oshun shuffled to her couch in her brown teddy bear slippers. Plopping down next to her little brown kitten, Curry, she scrolled through her emails and opened one titled ‘Gallery: Final Decisions’.

Here are the final prints, they’ll be put up this morning before the event tonight. You should be proud of yourself, Oshun. These look amazing. See you tonight!

P.S. Happy birthday, lovely.

Colored prints of her paintings were attached to the body of the message, along with some black and white photos from her film camera. In one of them, a wide gap-toothed smile rests on a man's face; his onyx skin contrasted against the white silk sheets beneath him; his strong hands gripping the thighs of the person sitting atop him, capturing the photo.

This was the first time Oshun had looked at these photos since she found the film canister in an unpacked duffle bag in the back of her closet. After she had returned from St. Lucia, she buried herself in her work. That was the only path she could handle to move forward. Six months can pass so quickly when you bury yourself in the sand. Finishing commissions left and right, and even catching the interest of a famous singer that wanted to use her artwork as inspiration for an album. As time rushed by, Oshun had become a rising star with her art being reposted and purchased by household names.

“I’m heading out, baby. I’ll see you at your birthday dinner.”

But the success of her art could not keep the loneliness from gnawing at her heart. So she backslid, hard. She ran into Yemoya while touring galleries to premiere her art. Yemoya ran the exact gallery that she had set her sights on and they hit it off once again but with more grounding. Yemoya was already in an established relationship but both she and her girlfriend Sage were interested in Oshun. And Oshun was fine with coming and going as she pleased. Their unofficial throuple worked; for now.

“Alright, please tell Ye to keep it minimal at the gallery. You know how she gets,” Oshun said, leaning her head back against the couch.

“Hey, I know Ye and I weren’t exactly what you were planning for but thank you for letting us hold place in your life. You’re such a gem, O.”

Oshun stared oddly at Sage, trying to read between the lines of her mystery-laced words. Sage was always more poetic while Yemoya was a bit blunter and to the point. But sometimes, she couldn’t quite place what Sage was trying to say. Or what she was hiding.

“Uh, thank you? Should I be worried?”

Sage chuckled and leaned down to peck her lips before heading out the door.

“Bye!”

Oshun, more confused than before, continued to scroll through the remaining attachments in the email before locking her phone and throwing it aside. Curry waltzed over and curled up in Oshun’s lap, eliciting an ‘awe, sweet baby’ from her lips. This was all she needed; her cat, a fling with a couple of women, and her first gallery event. But every time she looked at those damn photos, she began to wonder… was this all she needed?

Golden City, Wakanda

Two days prior

“Thank you for your time, this concludes our meeting for today.”

M’Baku watched the tribal elders walk out of the throne room, chatting about their new exploits and local gossip. He was leaned to the side with his chin in his hand as his mind rested for the first time in weeks. Training new warriors was extensive, collaborating with T’Challa on field missions was tiring, and getting his stubborn people acquainted with the new tech that Shuri invented was anything but a walk in the park. Once the meeting had ended, he felt no need to race back to the mountains that he called home. He just needed to rest. Besides, running back to an empty bed would only cause him more anguish.

“Lord M’Baku, I am surprised. Most times you would have been the first elder to leave. What keeps you,” T’Challa chuckled, taking a seat in front of M’Baku.

“I am simply resting my mind before my trek. Is that a crime?”

“Not in this country, at least. But normally you’d be rushing to see who you called ‘the divine feminine’.”

“That is in the past,” M’Baku said matter-of-factly.

“In the past? And why is that?”

M’Baku sighed loudly and rubbed the back of his head. He had no interest in opening old wounds and pouring out his heart anywhere, especially not in the Golden City. He had hidden away all thoughts of her. If there was one thing his father had taught him before he left this plane of existence, it was that there is no use in dwelling on matters of the heart. A leader only looks to the past for lessons to avoid future mistakes.

“It is simple, really. My council did not approve of our courtship so I cut it off. Now if you’ll excuse me, King.”

M’Baku stood and swiftly headed to the doors of the throne room.

“You are many things, Lord M’Baku, but I never pegged you to be a coward,” T’Challa accused, his words stinging the Great Gorilla’s pride. M’Baku stopped in his tracks and looked over his shoulder at the King, tightening his hold around his birchwood staff.

“Awufuni ukuyiphinda loo nto.”

“You would have me believe that your decision was not made out of cowardice?”

“T’Challa you try my patience,” M’Bkau grunted, turning to face him, “You may be King but-”

“But what? All this talk for me and yet you probably didn’t object to your council. What else can you call that if not cowardice?”

“You cannot talk as if you were there. I made a decision for my people and she made hers. What more is there to do?”

“You could fight for her. If this American woman is who your heart has chosen, how can you deny it?”

M’Baku walked back over to T’Challa and took his seat once again. He crossed his arms and cocked his head to the side. His mind was moving a mile a minute as he repeated the words in his mind. Even if his heart had chosen her, how could he move forward now?

“Hear me when I say this, Your people need to step into the future and embrace those that we have forgotten, those we have abandoned. You need to make it right. If not for her, then for yourself,” T’Challa said with conviction, before walking away.

M’Baku rolled his eyes as he watched the king saunter away as if he had won their fight all over again. The king stopped in his tracks right as he was exiting. Holding the door with one hand, he turned back to M’Baku with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

“Inform me when you return from your trip. I would love to meet this elusive woman who has softened you.”

Ifechi and Akunna walked into the birch-laden throne room to see M’Bele and Zoya standing on either side of a sitting M’Baku. He was dressed in civilian clothing which was a rarer sight these days.

“Lord M’Baku, what is the urgent matter you wanted to discuss? Are we to be under attack,” Lady Ifechi questioned.

“I have an announcement to make. I am leaving tonight to go retrieve my bride and future chieftess in Los Angeles. I will be bringing her back to Jabariland to meet the people. Please prepare the ceremonial rituals.”

“Intloko, I must protest. The people will not-”

“MY people,” M’Baku said, cutting Ifechi off, “will come to know and love their new chieftess.”

Lady Ifechi balled up her fists and hit Akunna’s shoulder, signaling for him to step in and say something, anything.

“Lord M’Baku,” Akunna stuttered, clearing his throat, “you cannot just take her as a wife. We discussed some time ago why…”

Akunna’s speech trailed off as he watched M’Baku swiftly approach and stop just short of his feet. The chief was at least a foot taller than him and Akunna didn’t dare meet his eyes.

“Did you think I was asking permission? You two may be my council members, yes, but moving forward you will have no say in my personal matters. Is that clear?” M’Baku’s loud commands rang in Akunna’s ears and he simply nodded in silence. M’Baku looked sternly at his two council members and puffed out his chest in preparation.

“I can no longer enable this ignorance. We must welcome the lost tribe with open arms, they have suffered as Wakanda has sat on the sidelines. If you two are not willing to change your way of thinking and follow me into the future, then you will find no place on this council.

I have denied myself love and comfort as I thought that sacrifice was the key to being a great leader. No longer.”

The council members nodded their heads once more and M’Baku grunted in agreement. He turned away from them, walking back to his throne and taking his seat once more.

“You may leave. M’Bele will act as chief until I return.”

And with the finality of his commands still buzzing in his chest, the chief of Jabariland smirked as he watched Akunna and Ifechi make a quick exit.

Downtown Los Angeles

leaving the gallery

Oshun walked out of the bathroom after changing into a completely different outfit than the one she wore whilst working the crowd at her first gallery show. Networking and being introduced to person after person was too much to do in heels. She had kept it casual with a color-blocked boilersuit and chucks. But now that they were headed out to her birthday dinner? She was going all out. Black mesh see-through jumpsuit with a black wrap dress and just enough cleavage on display. She tippy-toed in her chunky black boots to readjust her golden jewelry in the funky mirror on the wall. Her fingers brushed against the long hanging golden cowrie shell necklace that lay between her breasts and she groaned loudly; stomping her foot like a child. Oshun just wanted to not think about him for one night. It was supposed to be a happy night, celebrating her 32nd trip around the sun with friends and lovers and food, divine, delicious food! She thought briefly about taking it off; even throwing it away. But she could never bring herself to do it.

“O, come on, we gone be late, girl,” she heard Megan yell from around the corner. Oshun skipped over to meet her and wrapped her arm around Megan’s. Trying to put her mind on pause, she rested her head on her tall friend’s arm.

“Sorry, I know I’m running on cp time. Thanks for planning this.”

“Well, there'll be a few surprises at dinner so, don’t thank me just yet,” Megan noted, mumbling at the end of her sentence.

“What kind of-”

“No time to talk, the car’s here!”

Megan rushed her out of the gallery and into a black SUV where Shellee was already seated in the back. The drive to Baltaire was as busy as it could be, but then again that was Los Angeles. Native Angelenos will leave a half hour early for an event and still resort to checking directions on Maps just to see how much traffic they’d be in. The freeway was bumper to bumper, but Oshun didn’t mind. She was too busy listening to her friends squabble over which male actor was sexier.

“I can’t help but look at him and think, I just know it’s big. It’s heavy,” Megan almost moaned, fanning herself as Shellee and Oshun laughed at her.

Once the SUV pulled up to the restaurant, the valet opened the door and helped the three of them out. They headed inside and met up with the rest of their party that was waiting with balloons and presents next to the concierge.

Baltaire was a chic steakhouse in the heart of Los Angeles that Oshun was introduced to when she sold a painting to her first high-income client. The lighting was low enough to provide a relaxed ambiance but light enough for you to see your food. Their dining room and bar were elegantly decorated. Black leather chairs surrounded each of the white linen-clad tables on the inside portion, while the outdoor area was surrounded by reclaimed wood and large potted plants. The clinking and clanking of glasses and pots and pans drew attention to their kitchen. Floor-to-ceiling windows provided a view into the inner sanctum; one couldn’t help but stare at the chefs and line cooks as they ebbed and flowed from one station to another.

This night, however, was such a special occasion that Shellee and Megan booked the private Juniper room for Oshun’s birthday dinner. And after everyone had filed in after the concierge, the curtains were closed and Oshun sat at the head of the table. She slouched back in her chair and threw her hands in the air.

“Oh bitch, this is opulence!”

Two hours into the celebration, empty plates had already been cleared and Oshun was opening prettily wrapped boxes from the small pile of presents that had accumulated in the corner of the room. Just as Oshun was about to thank her friend for the gift, Megan stood up and made her way out.

“Meg, where are you-”

“I’ll be right back!”

Oshun went on opening her next gift and only lifted her head at the sound of the door closing. She looked up to see Megan, who she expected. The person next to her, however, was the last person she expected to walk through that door.

“M-M’Baku?”

There he was. The sole reason for all her torment; all the countless nights she spent crying herself to sleep. Between the endless tears and her ever-growing need to utilize her art as an outlet for everything she was feeling, Oshun partially felt like she should be thanking M’Baku. Her heartbreak had brought inspiration out of her that she had been searching for since that fateful day in DC. Yes, she wanted to thank him; and then ask him to leave.

“Megan, what the fuck is going on?”

Oshun’s breathing became uneven as her eyes darted between the two of them. It was as if no time had passed. He was still gorgeous and ever regal. With an all-black long-sleeve sweater that hugged his biceps and a gold chain gleaming against his chest, it was easy to see why everyone in the room was now giving him the eye. Oshun looked toward Sage and Yemoya in apology but their faces had a knowing look.

“It’s alright, O. Don’t freak out,” Sage said in hushed tones while Yemoya nodded. Oshun looked back to the culprits at hand with her palm laying on her abdomen. Nausea had descended upon her and she knew the only remedy would be an explanation. And someone had better start talking soon.

“Oshun, come speak with me for a moment. I won’t keep you long,” M’Baku practically pleaded.

And as if his command was wired into her body, she stood and walked over to him. Everyone watched her silently with small smiles on their faces and Oshun rolled her eyes.

“We need to have a conversation about boundaries,” Oshun chided Meg, before walking out behind the man that just rerouted the course of her birthday night.

She followed M’Baku over to the bar and took a seat next to him. The bartender came over to offer drinks and she declined, saying they wouldn’t be there long. Once they were alone, M’Baku reached forward and touched the golden cowrie shell hanging from her necklace. She watched as he rubbed his thumb over the charm and gulped. Her stomach was beginning to knot and she cursed herself; she knew it wasn’t because of the food. The back of his hand had brushed against her chest and she suddenly wanted to be in his arms. To think that her body would react to the slightest touch from him, it was as if she had been starved of human interaction for years. But no, it was just him.

“You’re still wearing it,” he mumbled. Oshun softly pushed his hand away and avoided meeting his eyes.

“M’Baku, you can’t just show up and blow up the spot. Regardless of whatever sneaky plan Megan came up with. You can’t just pop up.”

“You look beautiful as always, sthandwa. I heard the gallery show was a success.”

“No, we’re not doing this. What. Do. You. Want?”

“I will speak plainly,” M’Baku said, resting a strong hand on her mesh-covered thigh, “I want you.”

Oshun went to move his hand off of her thigh but he held her hand in place, tenderly rubbing his thumb across the soft skin of her knuckles.

“M’Baku, please don’t. Don’t say that like you mean it.”

“I have spent months in cowardice, longing for you. Praying to Hanuman and asking for them to take away my memories of you. The pain that I alone caused was too much to bear. I cannot erase those mistakes, thixokazi wam, but I can move forward with purpose. With you.”

Oshun’s vision had begun to get blurry. Her eyes had gotten misty watching the chief lay out his emotions. Of all the things that could happen today, she didn’t expect the greatest love of her life, the one that got away, to be pouring his heart out to her in the middle of a steakhouse on San Vicente. She watched M’Baku stand from his seat and kneel in front of her.

“Oshun, ukukhanya kobomi bam, I would love nothing more than to take you to Jabariland for you to meet my people and become my wife.”

She gently pushed his shoulder, praying that he would get up. A tear or two had quickly become a river, streaming down her face. M’Baku held her hands to his mouth and peppered kisses along her hands.

“M’Baku you can’t just ask me that, after all this time. I can’t just- I won’t go where I’m not wanted. I can’t do that,” she cried softly, speaking in hushed tones so as not to bring any more attention to them.

“You are wanted. My people welcome you with open arms, they have no choice but to.”

“But still, Baku you’re a whole chief. I’m just me. Think of your people-”

“I have thought of my people and only my people since I sat on the throne at the age of 19. Now I am thinking of myself. Ikumkani wam, I cannot rest another night without you by my side,” he cooed, pulling a box from his pocket and setting it on the bar beside them.

She looked over to the now open door of her private dining room to see all her friends and lovers watching. Their smiling faces were mouthing encouragement and Oshun shook her head. She didn’t want to look at either her friends or the man professing his love on one knee in front of her. She wanted to run.

“I can’t.”

In the time between the island and now, Oshun’s only coping mechanism was to blame herself for why it couldn’t work out with M’Baku. That was always her M.O. That was the only way she could control the trajectory of her pain, through blame. Then she could siphon off how much pain she needed to beat into herself with each passing day. Her mind had told her that she was not deserving and she believed it. And yet, the chief of a tribe was on his knees disrupting that thinking process and begging her to be his wife.

“I don’t know if I deserve this kind of love, M’Baku. I can’t be.”

“You are more than deserving, Oshun and I will spend the rest of my days proving that to you. The question is, sthandwa, will you let me? Hmm?”

Oshun finally let herself do what she could not since he walked through the door of the Juniper room and blew her life wide open. She met his eyes and saw so much warmth and love in them. Honest and pleading eyes looked back at her and she knew this was it. How could she continue to cut off access to her heart when his heart was bleeding for her? A sigh escaped Oshun’s mouth as all the pain she had been holding onto left her body. She nodded her head and chuckled through sobs as she heard Megan yell ‘yes’. M’Baku stood up once again and held Oshun’s tear-streaked face between his large hands.

“Ndiyakuthanda, thixokazi wam,” he whispered before taking her bottom lip between his. Clapping erupted through the restaurant as he pecked from her lips to her chin and cheeks.

“I love you. I love you, I love you,” Oshun repeated.

Once all the excitement died down, Oshun sat with M’Baku at the bar, wearing her new ring.

“So does this make me a chieftess?”

“It does,” M’Baku chuckled.

“What do we do now?”

“I’m taking you home with me, sthandwa.”

THE END

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