#attoye

As soon as their delegation meetings are adjourned Attuma starts moving in whatever direction Okoye is going and Namora literally has to catch him by his scruff and pull him to where their party is supposed to actually be going.

He actually pouts like a child who’s been refused sometimes. Namora is so over him, but Namor is highly amused.

I think they are neat ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

This scene is actually hilarious when you deep the fact that in the midst of a full out attack on Wakanda, Attuma took the time to find Okoye to antagonise her 😂 He really said “Lemme just see what my lil warrior bae is up to 👀” And what’s sending me is Okoye definitely planned his entire funeral in her head in those mere seconds of tense eye contact between them lmaooo

Okoye: *in turmoil trying to save Wakandan civilians*

Attuma: *standing on top of a Wakandan building searching aggressively* *spots her*

Attuma: 😈🫵🏽💥

Attuma lulling Okoye to sleep for an afternoon nap 🌙✨

Summary: A quick 300-500 word drabble based on the prompt: Warmth & Intimacy

Tags: Fluff, General Coziness, & an Absolute Lack of Plot

A/N: This is mostly just me attempting to revive my dead muse. I’ve written 5 of these so far and I think I’ll post one a day on here. If you’re impatient and wanna read them all, feel free to hop on Ao3.

~~~

The air felt chillier than usual tonight.

There was a bite to it, one that told her winter was coming sooner rather than later.

No more late nights on the beach, then.

As if confirming her thoughts, a swift breeze whipped off the incoming tide, spraying a fine mist over her body and sending a chill through her bones.

She shivered despite the fire at her back. It was a quick, almost imperceptible thing that would’ve gone unnoticed by most people.

Fortunately for her, Attuma wasn’t “most people”.

A warm arm wound itself around her shoulders before the chill had time to settle, pulling her into an even warmer body. Something like peace stole over her with the motion. Something better. Headier. She leaned into it, curling further into him with a wistful smile. Her knees pressed against his outstretched legs, and her fingers sought his, tangling together—easy as breathing. She tucked her head beneath his chin with a soft sigh.

“Okay, in ba’al?” He asked, voice a velvet murmur in the quiet of the evening.

To answer with a simple “yes” felt like an understatement. She hadn’t felt anything as simple as okay in weeks. Maybe even months. How could she explain to him that happy was too insufficient a word for the unending well of joy she felt when they were together? What words could possibly describe the sense of fulfillment that bubbled over when she was wrapped in his arms?

Okay simply wasn’t enough.

“Okoye?”

A hint of concern bled into the warm depths of his voice, and she realized she hadn’t answered. An easily remedied error.

She brought their entwined fingers to her mouth and pressed a lingering kiss to the back of his hand, hoping he could feel all that she wanted to say.

“I’m perfect.”