Treat Yo’ Self
Request: A plus-sized, low-income African American gal being gifted T'Challa’s credit card as a [pre] wedding present. But she only buys a handful of clearance/sale items & so T'Challa sits down & has a talk with her to let her know that neither he nor Wakanda is gonna miss a couple thousands or even a couple millions. -SQUEE!-
T’Challa casually held a credit card out to you. You took it reflexively, looking down at it curiously. It looked really fancy, like the type of credit card every filthy rich person gets at birth just to let them know they’re good for life. The holographic picture on it caught the light to show that it was a panther. You looked up at T’Challa with an expression that read “Really?”.
“It is a… pre-wedding gift,” He explained. You immediately attempted to give it back. T’Challa had given you enough. You had him, and none of the wedding expenses came out of your pocket.
“T’Challa I can’t take this-”
“You can and you will,” he insisted smiling indulgently at you, “You never let me get you anything.”
“That’s because I have everything I need… and you’ve already given me the greatest gift I could hope for.”
“And what was that?”
“Well, I am a gift that keeps on giving,” he grinned, “If you do not take the credit card and get yourself something nice I will be forced to buy you things myself and I’m sure you don’t want that.”
You glared at his taunting smile and weighed your options. If you didn’t take the credit card and left the gift buying up to him, he would blow a good couple thousand on you easily. If you took the card you would be in control of how much was spent on your behalf.
“Fine,” you conceded, sliding the credit card into your pocket. He seemed pleased with you to surrender as he looked down at you like you were the greatest thing that had ever happened to him. You never quite understood that look, you were absolutely positive you were the lucky one here, and anyone you asked agreed. You were just a normal girl, living paycheck to paycheck before you met T’Challa. You grew up poor, so money was tighter than a corset. Frivolous spending? You didn’t know her. Hell, you two are begrudging acquaintances now. Splurging doesn’t come easily to you, much to T’Challa’s frustration.
“Buy yourself something nice. Do not look at the price tag,” he instructed.
“Fine,” you groaned. He laughed at your reluctance and pulled you closer by your waist until your head could rest on his chest.
“I am flattered that you worry so much about my fiscal responsibility,” he joked, “but I promise I’ve got a team of people whose entire job is to watch my financials. They’ll yell at me before you have to.”
“I don’t want them to have to. I’m already this lower class chick marrying a king, I don’t wanna seem like a gold digger on top of that, and I don’t need all the extra you know?”
“My people love you. They see themselves in you and they wish for you to be comfortable.”
“I am comfortable, though.”
“Then just indulge me for one day. Get whatever your heart desires without a second thought of the price.”
“Okay,” you huffed and he shook his head at you. He never ran into anyone who he had to beg to spend his money. He kissed your forehead as you looked up at him.
“You are something else entirely,” he laughed, but then let you go, looking down at his watch, “I have to go, but I’ll see you in two days, at the altar.”
“I’ll be the one in white,” you answered lamely. He kissed you then left to engage in whatever kingly duties were set for him. You had a few plans for the day. First off, you had to finish packing up your apartment in Wakanda. The apartment had been a gift from T’Challa, one you graciously accepted. The two of you met in D.C. he was in the restaurant you worked at with the Avengers. You remembered the day you met T’Challa better than you remembered anything else in your life. He was sitting with the group of superheroes as they talked animatedly looking utterly spiritless. You’d always wondered what they were talking about to make him so lifeless. T’Challa was nothing if not joyful and charmingly ridiculous. You went to the table to take drink orders and he visibly perked up. At first, you just thought he was being nice to you, which you appreciated a lot all on its own. People could be awful to servers, especially at such a high-profile restaurant. You were charming in your own right, throwing out little jokes for the table, he would tell you later that it was love at first joke for him. He kept coming back to the restaurant, striking up a conversation and asking more about yourself. The day he had to leave to go back to Wakanda he asked for your number so he could stay in touch, he also asked for a date whenever he returned to D.C. You didn’t even know he was a king then. He was just the handsome regular from Wakanda that took a liking to you. You didn’t learn he was royalty until a year into your relationship.
You scoffed a little thinking about that, as you taped off the last box in your apartment. You should have known he was royalty. He was simply great in every other way, of course, he was royalty. He told you without even thinking about it, he was surprised to find you surprised. He wanted you to move to Wakanda so you could be closer. Respective cultural customs meant you wouldn’t move in together so you picked out this apartment from the array of extravagant homes T’Challa offered. It was small, and with the job, you found when you got to Wakanda you could pay for it even if T’Challa dumped you.
At the end of your packing, you headed out to grab a quick bite to eat. You were still learning the language of the country but, English was spoken commonly enough that you were usually alright on your own. You’d denied any security detail, though you were sure some members of the Dora Milaje followed you anyway. It never bothered you, T’Challa was just worried about you. As you drove through the city you happened upon a store having a sale. You frequented this place often, it had really nice plus sized clothing. They didn’t just add more fabric to size two they really crafted clothes for full figured women. With T’Challa’s insistence that you buy yourself something nice in mind, you entered the store. After going in, picking out an outfit and a few nice smelling lotions you consider yourself done. You grabbed some food and headed back home to spend one of two of your last nights unmarried.
Later on, T’Challa called. You answered, pausing the movie you were watching.
“Hey,” you greeted, a smile spreading across your face.
“Hello, how was your day?”
“It was great, I finished packing up here, and I got food from my favorite place, you know the place right next to the bookstore.”
“I do. Did you go into the bookstore?”
T’Challa sighed, “I’m looking at how much you spent today and-”
“Was it too much. I just found a really pretty dress and it was on sale so I-”
“Y/N you spent $50. No, it wasn’t too much,” he laughed.
“You are truly incapable of treating yourself. I booked a spa for you and your friends tomorrow after they are picked up from the airport. A separate driver will pick you up and take you to the spa to meet them there. You are going to let yourself be pampered and if you find a product you like you are going to buy it. Without looking at the price tag. Alright?”
“You are to spend $500 at least. At the very least, Y/N.”
“I love you,” he laughed indulgently.
“I love you too.”