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lincolndjarin · 2 years ago

Text

Best Kept Secret

chapter five : lunar interlude : just a man (RE-UPLOAD)

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 5.0k

summary : a look into din's point of view

warnings, etc. : language, sexual fantasy, masturbation

A/N : i had to change accounts so this is a re-upload of my ongoing fic bks!!

Absurd.

It’s absurd how much the job pays. Din’s not even sure he should take it at this point because it’s too good to be true. But they promised monthly payments up front and he needed a new ship, and with what this gig pays, within the year he could buy a fleet. He could do this for a few years and be set for life.

So he catches a ship to Naboo.

And he meets with a rather obnoxious prince who loves the novelty of having a Mandalorian working for him. It’s a good thing the job’s seemingly so easy because Prince Harand is off putting enough to make him reconsider. It’s simple, act as a personal guard to his wife. In exchange he’ll receive more credits than he’ll know what to do with and a private place to reside in. All he has to do is keep her from harm and make sure she doesn’t get into trouble.

“Is she prone to getting into trouble?” Din doesn’t try to hide the distaste in his voice at how high-and-mighty the man is acting.

“You expect me to know that?”

Pig.

After he accepts he’s given direct permission to disregard any of her orders that would prevent him from doing his job.

He declines the invitation to attend the wedding, to say he’s indifferent to the whole affair would be an understatement. He isn’t in any hurry to meet the woman who agreed to marry that. So Prince Harand gives him a note, he doesn’t bother reading it, he just tosses it on the vanity and he waits alone in what he is told are your chambers.

Weddings take a while.

So he can’t help but be curious, after all did his employer expect him to just stand in the same spot all day? So he snoops, he’s allowed to be nosy, it might help him do a better job if he can get a grasp on who you are. He spends the next two hours inspecting the room from top to bottom and much to his annoyance he learns nothing. There isn’t a single personal item here. All the clothes are seemingly unworn, there’s no clutter, nothing. If anything he feels like he knows even less about you. Shit, does he even know your name? Had the prince mentioned it? Maker, did the prince even know the name of the woman he was marrying? What a clown. Whatever, it doesn’t matter, she’s royalty and he’s the help, she probably won’t even address him. So he waits for several hours. He just stands there, eventually he considers just leaving and reporting for duty tomorrow but he can hear voices in the hall now so he stands up a bit straighter, then the door creaks open and Kodo drunkenly peers in before slamming it shut again.

Idiot.

Is that laughter?

He doesn’t get any time to wonder what that was about because a Twi’lek opens the door and then you walk in. And he’s frozen in place. Your eyes are on him and the room is suddenly dreadfully hot. It’s like you're under some sort of spell that pulls you towards him and he can’t breathe. Why would they put such garish makeup on such a beautiful face?

He should say something. He needs to say something. Introduce yourself you dimwit.

He opens his mouth but before he can utter a sound you touch him. It feels like his heart has stopped. He can see you speaking but he doesn’t hear a thing, captivated by the way your mouth moves when you talk, your tongue poking out slightly to wet your lips as you graze his chest plate with your fingertips.

It’s enough to make a man want to abandon his creed and take you right there.

This must be some kind of punishment for all of the terrible things he’s done. The gods are punishing him with this paragon of a woman that he is doomed to spend his days with but he can never have. The ringing in his ears finally clears up and he hears the first words he can actually get a grasp on that come through your perfect mouth.

“Is this some sort of weird fetish of his?”

Well. The ringing is back in his ears. He thinks he might just have to die in this position at this point cause it’s definitely too late to speak up, he waited too long, what the hell is the matter with him? He’s a fucking bounty hunter for gods sake, he’s fought beasts of all shapes and sizes and suddenly he’s been conquered by some woman he doesn’t even know?

Your small hand grabs the edge of the helmet and he’s finally able to snap out of it when you go to remove it. On instinct he manages to catch both your wrists in one hand.

“Don’t.” Thank the gods the modulator covers up the way his voice cracks. You’re scolding him, you’ve poked a finger into his chest plate but he’s having a hard time paying attention because he can’t seem to take his eyes off of the way your face flushes red, and then your neck, and then your chest.

How low does the crimson tint go?

For Makers sake snap out of it man, you’re one of the most dangerous men in the galaxy not a school boy with a crush.

You’re staring at the Twi’lek, scowling. He has to silence his helmet to hide the laughter that bursts out as you actually manage to get him to leave just by eyeballing him.

He manages to get through the conversation with you without tearing your clothes off, although there is a close call when you hike up your skirt to remove an anklet and like some sort of repressed Victorian woman, he sees just a glimpse of your ankle and can feel blood rushing south.

For god’s sake. At that point he just closes his eyes because this situation cannot get any worse, and then he can hear your dress hit the floor and he has never had to work so hard to keep his eyes shut.

“...I want to hear it from you.”

“My job is to make sure you are not harmed.” Can you hear the strain in his voice as he wills himself not to get hard? Gods he hopes not. He needs to get out of this situation fast, he’s getting ready to dismiss himself and find Kodo and tell him to take the money back, that he can’t do this but you say something that stops him dead in his tracks.

“Actually I’m good.”

He can’t stop the exasperation in his voice.

“Excuse me?”

“Can you not hear through the helmet? I’m good. I’ve already got an ensemble of people trailing me. I don’t need another.”

You can’t be serious.

“You’re dismissed.”

You are.

People don’t typically talk to him like that. They’re always too afraid. But you aren’t, you don’t seem to be frightened by him in the slightest. He was going to leave, he wanted to leave, but it’s been a long time since someone challenged him like this.

“You don’t have the authority to dismiss me.” He snaps back.

He likes arguing with you. He doesn’t get to argue with people. Who wants to argue with a Mandalorian? Most people don’t want to get shot by a trained killer.

You don’t appear to be most people.

He wants to rile you up, wants to see the fire in your eyes, he’d do just about anything to be the target of your anger.

So he teases you, until he leaves, making sure to get the last word in. He sets up a few imperceptible motion sensors just under your door knob so he can make sure he’s alerted if you decide to make a run for it.

And then he’s alone. So he goes to where he was told his lodging would be, it’s about a twenty minute walk but he doesn’t mind, it’s secluded, cozy. The cabin reminds him a bit of the crest, just big enough to be comfortable.

He takes a cold shower and tries not to think about his boss's wife.

✩

The next few weeks aren’t any easier.

You seemingly can’t stand him and he decides it’s for the best. You should hate him, he deserves it since your husband is paying him outrageous amounts of money to follow you around all day and fantasize about all the ways he could make you hate him a little less.

It’s hell.

Having to watch you day in and day out. Watch you wander around aimlessly, like a bird trapped in a cage. His least favorite days are when he has to attend dinners with you and your husband. The man is an ogre. And that’s why he can’t seem to leave. He thinks about it, often. Just packing up and catching the next ship off planet. But if he leaves, who's going to protect you from this creep? So he stays.

Eventually, he watches you less like it’s his job and more like it’s his religion.

Things only get worse when one night he wakes up with a start, sitting up in bed as he hears the beeping from his gauntlet that signifies your door being opened. It’s the middle of the night. What if somebody got in? There’s no way, you have a state of the art locking system that only he and a few staff can get into, unless they have a code. What if it was just your husband? Why does that make him don his armor faster? He has no right to barge in there if it’s simply your spouse coming in to fulfill his marital duty, yet he’s in a dead sprint towards the castle the moment he’s dressed. He had fallen asleep in his flight suit with his helmet on anyway, it didn’t take him long and when he gets to your room he’s tense the moment he sees that the door is closed. Ever so slightly adjusting the audio on his helmet he discerns that the room is empty so he switches his vision so he can trail you and sure enough a set of footprints is going off in the familiar direction of the library.

It was a relief. To know that no one had gotten in and you had simply left on your own accord but why would you be sneaking out to the library? You go to the library everyday, you should be sick of it. So he silently walks until he sees the faint light of a glowrod illuminating your face, a stack of books clutched in your arms. And he’s about to say something, you’re only a few feet ahead of him but when you turn you’re wearing such a thin nightgown, and the robe is hardly doing anything to cover you. Before he can react you’re rushing forward slamming into him.

And now he’s facing the worst torture yet.

Your robe fell off one of your shoulders as you dropped and now you’re sprawled out on the floor below him, your hair is down, messy from sleep, your slip of a nightgown riding up your thighs as you look up into the darkness at him. And then you fucking groaned. And all he can think about is how easy it would be to turn that fabric into confetti.

Help her up jackass.

He reaches down and of course you swat his hands away. You should hate him.

He helps you back to your room and the moment he knows you aren’t going to try anything he rushes back in the direction of the library. He knows you're fuming, the least he can do is go get your books. But then he’s picking them up and looking at the titles he can’t believe how warm it is in the castle suddenly. He’s used to the heat. Wearing this many layers you build up a tolerance.

But now he’s looking at the stack of smutty romance novels you’d wanted so badly you’d snuck out to get them and he’s sweating.

He makes it back to the cabin in half the time it usually takes him. He was in such a hurry he had completely forgotten about returning your books to you. He tosses them to the side and in an instant he’s practically throwing his armor to the ground, he only manages to get half of it off before he sprawls out on his bed, discarding his gloves haphazardly as he frees his cock from his trousers. His helmet bumping against the wall as he leans back and starts stroking himself, his palms are so clammy he doesn’t even bother spitting in his hand.

It’s shameful how close he already is just at the sight of you on the floor like that. His hips stutter upwards into his fist as he imagines you on top of him, your thighs wrapped around his waist, hair disheveled, wearing that pretty little negligee. Maker, your skin always looks so soft, you’d feel so much better than his calloused hands. Were you gonna read those dirty books and touch yourself with those delicate little fingers of yours?

It doesn’t take long after that before he reaches his hasty climax, cumming with a filthy groan of your name, shooting ropes up onto his stomach.

He definitely deserves to have you hate him.

He tries to not even look at you after that. Until one day when you’re in the library once again and it’s obvious to him that you’re pretending to read your book, your eyes dart up to glare at him every few seconds.

You’re looking at him like bounties look at him once they’ve been caught and are plotting to attempt an escape, purely out of habit he chides you.

“Don’t”

And that’s all it takes. He actually manages to talk to you. Of course it’s easier once he imagines you as a particularly unruly bounty, to snap back at you. If you were a real bounty he’d have a hard time turning you in.

You’d look nice in the cuffs.

Don’t. Keep it in your pants you moron.

He even offers to take you to the gardens, you deserve that at the very least, a few hours outside of this sweltering castle.

Then he takes you back to your quarters and you look at him with those heart eyes and he feels like he’s going to pass out when you so eagerly make him promise to show you the gardens.

It’s selfish. But he has to get in one last dig, he has to see that bloom of color on your skin one last time as he tells you that your book had been upside down.

It all becomes so manageable. For a moment he thinks that the two of you might be able to handle this little antagonistic relationship that you’re beginning to build. It would be nice, to have you keeping him in check, to have reminders that you dislike him.

But he had to go and ruin it all.

It all went wrong so fast it made his head spin.

It all started when you were in that damned dress. You’d been the most stunning woman he’d ever seen even in the campy, over the top makeup, and the flashy unattractive dresses. But now here you were in that yellow gown and it was like he was seeing you clearly for the first time. There weren’t any flashy accessories to distract him from your face. That flawless face.

So he was already a little off his game at that point.

And then he slipped up. He couldn’t help it, not when you were standing next to him, dressed like that. He called you little flower. That had been something just for him and like the blundering fool that he was in your presence he blurted it out without thinking. He could feel that familiar paralysis, he hated the effect you had on him. Thank the gods he had done it in Mando’a.

But you’re you so of course you don’t drop it. And then you make it worse because you touch him.

And then he makes things worse because he lashes out.

Then he thinks you’re hurt and he makes an ass of himself.

And lashes out again. He’s not even that mad about the droid comment he’s just overwhelmed, he’s never been this overwhelmed and this stupid fucking planet is so hot.

It keeps getting worse, he can’t shut the fuck up and finally you tell him to leave and he can’t because he wants to stay, he wants to stay and scream at you because he can’t stand how much he needs you it makes him physically ill how you haunt him day and night.

So he says no.

And the look on your face is enough to make him want to swear a new creed to make sure you never look so betrayed ever again.

After that you should hate him. He’s glad you hate him. He’s glad you’re giving him the silent treatment, he deserves much worse.

The first day all he can think about is apologizing. You sit in that little nook, back in your blue dresses, looking furious. He just doesn’t know what to say that won’t make this worse.

The second day all he can think about is how he could make it up to you. He’s got a couple of ideas of things that might wipe that frown off your face. He’s obviously not going to just abandon his creed but you definitely don’t make it easy, there’s a million different things that he wants to do to you that would be rather difficult if he can’t use his mouth.

He doesn’t make any real progress on day two either and later that night ends up with his face buried in his pillow, fucking his fist.

The third day he’s actually kind of pissed. If you two have something in common it’s how stubborn you can be and suddenly he’s mad at you, for no real reason, he supposes he’s just sick of feeling sorry.

And then there’s that dinner.

He wants to kill that ignorant, snooty, little man more than he’s ever wanted to kill a person. He wants to make it last, it’s been a long time since he’s killed something, he would enjoy killing Kodo.

But all that rage goes away when he catches a glimpse of your expression and it’s replaced with fear. He’s never seen you look so small and suddenly he’s terrified that you’ve lost that fire. He’ll go back and massacre Kodo right now if he truly did extinguish your flame.

So he breaks the silence. And asks if you're okay.

And he’s relieved when you ramble on, even though he wishes so desperately he could wipe your tears away. Of course you’d be harder than that to put out. His light is okay, and that's all that matters.

So he leaves you your book.

He had gotten bored and read one of them. The Smitten Paladin. It was racy but it’s what she had gone to get in the first place so why not. But that isn’t enough. Not after what you just went through, so he opens the cover and leaves his favorite color, green, written inside, it’s the least he can do.

✩

He goes into the next day with the intention of apologizing. Not entirely sure what for.

Sorry your husband is a scumbag. You should leave him for me.

Doesn’t exactly have a ring to it.

Before he can think of what to say you come out of your room and he’s thankful for the helmet because his jaw would be on the floor.

Maker, did you wear that just for him?

The green dress clings to the outline of your torso and it feels like he’s been punched in the gut. Actually, he’s been punched in the gut plenty of times and this is worse because your hair is down and it’s all he can do to not tangle his fingers in it and drag you back into your room. What kind of game are you trying to play with him? Dressing in that color, making yourself irresistible, what the hell is your angle? He’s cautious and slow when he greets you. He remains on edge all the way to the library.

And then you take out the fucking book.

You can’t be serious.

This can’t be happening.

You can’t just do this.

You can’t just sit there in that dress. With your hair falling so exquisitely across your face, begging to be brushed behind your ear, reading porn directly in front of him.

If you’re trying to punish him it’s working. This is torture. If you used this method to interrogate him for information he would have folded immediately. He sits there for hours, sweating his ass off as you perch in that little nook of yours, it would be so easy for him to just bend you over it and lift up the skirt of that lovely little gown. Is that what you want? He’s getting dizzy. Why else would you do this and then read a fucking erotic novel in front of him? Is this some kind of test?

Then you look at him. It’s easy to forget since he’s always wearing a helmet that you don’t know when he’s staring right at you. You glance up at him through your eyelashes and you don’t look away. He’s so hard he’s pretty sure he’s about to burst through the front of his pants. What is your goal here? Your face is turning that delicious shade of red and you haven’t so much as looked at the pages in front of you for minutes at this point.

If this is some game of chicken he isn’t going to lose. No matter how badly he wants it, he won’t lay a hand on you unless you ask him for it. Did you just squeeze your thighs together?

For god's sake, ask for it. Ask for anything he’ll fucking do it.

He can’t take it anymore. So he speaks, teases you. It’s innocent enough.

Keep it innocent.

So you go back and forth and it’s safe. For a moment. He manages to adjust himself in the chair so it hopefully isn’t too obvious that he’s pitching a tent severe enough to camp under. And then he can’t stop himself from asking how the book is and before he knows it you’re asking if he had to take a vow of celibacy.

This isn’t okay.

And then you ask if he can take the armor off.

For Makers sake you’re married.

He needs to ask about something else. Anything else.

“The book, what’s it about?”

Yeah, let's talk about the porn again. Dumbass.

And then you say the words that make him want to just abandon his post and quit. Get as far away from this planet as possible.

“I wasn’t really stuck on anything… I suppose I was just trying to figure out how he fits it all in there?”

Fuck. Does she know? Is she trying to be coy?

You can’t know. He hadn’t seen your eyes dart between his legs. This can’t be happening, this is so bad. Kodo would have him killed for this. So he plays his last card, that he read the book. And thankfully it actually works, you’re so distracted by the fact that he read your book that he manages to get you out of the library and back to your chambers.

He can’t get back to his cabin fast enough.

Cold shower. Bed. That’s the order of events. Nothing else.

But he can’t get away from you. It’s worse when he sleeps because in his dreams you are so much less confusing.

In his dreams you join him in that cold shower and you warm him up in several different ways (and several different positions) and he can take off his helmet and look at you unfiltered. You're the leading lady of all of his dreams, since the day he met you he has never had a break from you.

That isn’t always a good thing because he wakes up from those dreams he has to go see the real you. The one that hates him. As you should.

✩

It was already a rough morning, there is nothing as humbling as waking up to find you’ve cum in your pants like some pent up teenager.

The morning only gets rougher when he goes to retrieve you and you aren’t there.

Fuck.

What’s the protocol for this sort of thing? He doesn’t even bother trying to figure that out because his hand is already on his blaster and he’s throwing doors open. This isn’t the time to panic, he needs to pull himself together.

And then he throws open the right door and you’re sitting there in the tub with your hand shoved between your legs, your head tilted back ever so slightly with your eyes shut tight. You’re his dream come to life and simultaneously his worst nightmare. He wants to look away. He needs to look away but he’s a goner the moment he sees your soapy chest.

This has to be a record breakingly bad morning.

And yet by some miracle he fixes it. Or rather, the garden fixes it. You couldn’t pay him to look away from your face. He wants you to look like this all the time, beaming, curious, truly happy. And he can’t help himself, he doesn’t deserve it, but he’s greedy and he wants to know more about you, wants to hear your voice. So he suggests the game and Maker, you play it.

Gods, he’s weak. Why do you make him so weak?

The moment you ask for a question if you win he knows what you’ll ask. He hadn’t planned on letting you win, but you looked so content, he could just tell you but he passes on the last question. He wants you to know what it means.

It’s selfish to ask for anything else, he shouldn’t be rewarded for this kind of behavior, but he does it anyway, and he asks for more. He asks for more days, just the two of you, and you say yes.

And when you ask what sarad'ika means he’s sure this is where he gets what he deserves, this is where you’ll spit in his face, call him a creep, and tell him to leave. But you don’t. Instead you politely say good night to him.

This can’t be real. There’s just no way. But there you are, each morning, in your much simpler gowns that suit you so perfectly, and you ask him to read because you don’t want him to be bored and how could he possibly say no to you. You could ask him for the moons and he’d find a way to give them to you.

But it has to end eventually.

And it does on the fifth cycle as reality crashes in and he has to escort you to dinner with your husband.

She’s married.

✩

It keeps getting worse. He’s asked to leave. He can’t. He can’t just leave you in a room full of drunk men, especially these drunk men. Especially that drunk man. His mind is racing at light speed but he can’t think of a single argument for why he should stay.

And then you look at him with those pleading eyes and his heart starts pounding out of his chest.

Maybe he could take on six battle droids.

But he doesn’t, of course. Because what if you got caught in the crossfire. You hadn’t produced an heir, you were still expendable to Prince Harand. And he has to leave you alone with him.

It’s the longest two hours of his life.

He wants to tune it out, to turn off any exterior sound on the helmet but he can’t because what if something happened to you? So he listens to every word.

He’s never felt so small.

It’s a pitiful feeling. To go through your entire life being used to doing things a certain way to protect the ones you care for. And then when it comes down to the person that means the most to you you can’t do a thing.

For a man who has solved nearly all of his problems in life with a blaster, to suddenly be unable to do so? It’s pathetic.

They could punish her if I intervene.

They could kill her.

They could kill me.

Lock me up.

Who would protect her then?

Maker, he hasn’t felt this crushing sensation in his chest since he had to say goodbye to the kid. He can’t breathe.

He’s supposed to be the strong one.

Yet he has been conquered by a fucking door.

He doesn’t even realize you're out. Or that you’ve kicked him. Or that you’re suddenly sitting between his legs. He’s too far gone. It isn’t until he feels his helmet adjust that he snaps out of it.

Because you’re real. And you’re okay.

No thanks to him.

And he can’t stop the words that pour out of his mouth. Never in his life has he been reduced to this, afraid like this. You should be disgusted. That the Mandalorian sworn to protect you had been diminished to this. Just a man.

But you aren’t. You’re warm, and gentle, and soft, and real.

He doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve you.

So he stands. And he helps you up.

He needs you to hate him again. It’s the only thing that keeps him grounded.

So he escorts you to your chambers, and you turn to him and say those five damning words.

“Do you wanna come in?”

He’s weak. And he’s selfish. Don’t do this Mando.

But he isn’t a Mandalorian right now. He’s just a man.

With you he's just Din.

So he nods.

I am no longer doing taglists so follow @lincolndjarinnotifs and turn on notifications to be notified when new chapters are posted !!

#lincolndjarin #the mandalorian #best kept secret #bks #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x you #din dijarin x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction #RE UPLOAD

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vixentheplanet · 2 years ago

Text

not like the movies

“if it’s not like the movies, that’s how it should be.”

shuri x black!reader | 18+

summary

"It's a crazy idea you were made perfectly, you'll see. just like the movies, that's how it will be. cinematic and dramatic. with the perfect ending."

Absolutely flawless in every way-as a daughter, a student, and a girlfriend. You live life guided by the choices your parents made and the fear of disappointment.

Up until she showed up, everything changed.

The Wakandan Princess arrives on the MIT campus as a new transfer student, and Shuri's presence throws all of your plans off course. For in your life, you make your own choice, love.

word count: 12k (i added more)

themes: perfectionist reader, university students, falling in love, arranged relationships/marriage, shuri noticed the little things and that’s everything

warning: sex, smoking, drinking, controlling parents

dedicated to my lyric @inmyheadimobsessed. this is her fic i just wrote it

hi ✨- i woke up with one mission and that was to write the part that i added at the end so i spent all day writing for the first time in forever… it was nice. anyways the response when i first posted this was overwhelming 🥺 i hope you all have/find fairytale love 💜 AND I ADDED MORE this was the beginning of part two i reworked.

happy speak now taylor’s version to all who celebrate she took track 21 out the vault for me but folklore has me in a chokehold rn

"No, not that one."

Shuri looks to the MIT junior who is showing her around, blinking to recover focus. “What?” Shuri inquires, her face confused.

Riri follows Shuri's gaze to the girl who caused her to come to a halt in the middle of the courtyard where the club fair was held. "I can see you staring. There are plenty of girls on campus, but not her." Riri repeats herself.

The Wakandan didn't understand the reaction. Was she someone Shuri should avoid? “Is she mean or something?”

"No, she's a friend of mine. Sweet girl. I'll introduce you, but she has a boyfriend, and they're getting engaged soon." Riri states it simply. Deeply committed and getting ready to marry.

Shuri suppressed her disappointment at the news. “Who said I was interested?” Shuri replies, trying to play off her first emotion to seeing arguably the most stunning woman she'd ever seen. A face like that was one worth remembering.

Riri gives her friend the side eye, sucking her teeth in response to Shuri's denial. “You stopped in the middle of the walkway,” Riri notes, pulling Shuri out of the way of a small group trying to bypass the pair. "And keep your bottom lip closed. You're drooling." Riri cracks a joke, tapping Shuri on the chin. Shuri frowns, yet her heart flutters at the prospect of speaking with the one who took her breath away.

The club fair, one of MIT's most significant events, required you to show your face as president of the SGA. In designing programs, services, and policy decisions, the Student Government Association represented students' perspectives. The governing body distributes finances to authorized clubs and organizations and is responsible for defending the student body's rights. It was a lot of responsibility, but you'd spent your entire life overcoming obstacles to get to the top.

You were sitting at a table decorated in university colors, with a spread of pens, stickers, pamphlets, and lollipops, among other things, to draw attention. Numerous people had stopped by, and the email sign-up list was already two pages long. Maybe it was the way you smiled or the sound of your voice that pulled people to you, but connecting with others was in your nature. It's no surprise that you were well-known among your peers and instructors.

You're finishing up a talk with a woman and her son, a first-year student, when you notice something out of the corner of your eye. Riri Williams. Meeting Riri was an unforeseen relationship; you needed assistance with vector calculus, and she came through. You respect your friendship with Riri; she wasn’t like those who clung to you for popularity and relevance. She was genuine, and it was also refreshing to have one aspect of your life that your parents didn't dominate. You were, nevertheless, perplexed by her appearance. Riri spent much of her free time in the lab experimenting and working on personal work. She told you as much when you tried to recruit her into the SGA when you were both freshmen a few years back. You smile as you wave the mother and son away before scolding, "Riri, get away from my table," swatting the hand and reaching for one of the lollipops. "You had two years to join and-"

"Relax, ma. I'm not here to bother you. I'm not really interested in these little club events." Riri motions to the person who has followed her. "All I'm doing is showing Shuri around." You notice the Wakandan royal standing close to your friend.

The level of awe is overwhelming. The Kingdom of Wakanda is a technologically advanced kingdom famed for its abundant resources of the material vibranium. You were aware of the royalty, including the Princess, Shuri's remarkable brilliant inventions. Thus her presence before you was unexpected.

“This is Y/N. University’s student government president, top student, presidents list, deans list-” Riri continues to itemize your successes, and you abruptly cut her off, unclear of her intentions.

There were a lot of public figures and famous children at MIT. Even so, you were taken aback to discover the young Princess traveled all the way from Wakanda to Cambridge, Massachusetts. She probably tried to fit in with the rest of the students by dressing like them in a faded Outkast tee shirt and light jeans, but her natural beauty stood out too much. Shuri's hair was arranged in tight coils, her enticing features the way her lips were full, a smile formed on her face flashing a flawless row of straight teeth.

When Shuri's eyes contact yours, your cheeks flush with warmth, and the air around you feels suffocating despite the fact that you're in the midst of the courtyard, with the breeze swinging the trees. "Just, Y/N," you find the words to say. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Princess Udaku." You reach out your hand.

Riri frowns, "All this formal shit, just call her Shuri."

Having become accustomed to Riri's boldness, neither of you cares to take offense or give her any regard. Shuri clasps her hands in yours and shakes them firmly. “Yes, you can call me Shuri.”

Formal greeting exchanged, you can’t help but ask, "Wow, what drew you to MIT? Wakanda, I'm sure, has significantly superior educational institutions."

"I wanted to study overseas, and MIT provides great mechanical, scientific, and engineering creative programs. Riri is also quite convincing." Shuri chuckled.

You look over at Riri and say, "I bet she is," She sticks out her tongue as you realize she's stolen candy from the table.

"That's fantastic, and I'm sure the entire university is thrilled to have you here. I am the President of The Student Government Association, as Riri stated. Please do not hesitate to contact me if you have any issues." You take up the light green pen you've been carrying, scribble down your cell phone number, and offer it to Shuri.

Ignoring the way your skin prickles as your fingers brush against it. Shuri carefully places the piece of paper with precise nine digits written in green in her pocket. Riri speaks again, "We're probably going to hang out at my apartment this weekend. Are you coming?"

You hesitate for a moment, considering everything you need to do. Today was Tuesday, which was your day in the library, so you'd have to make up for lost time over the week. You also had a date with your boyfriend this weekend. You wouldn't be able to. "I can't. I need to catch up on work and attend Travis' parents' gala this weekend."

Riri's eyes roll at the mention of his name. "The only person I know that has planned out every little detail of their entire life."

"Be quiet."

Overhearing the exchange, someone would think Riri was kidding or exaggerating, but she wasn't. Since your birth, the urge to satisfy your own wants has been overwhelmed by the dread of disappointing your parents. Besides, it could be worse. They wanted you to be influential, to shine amongst others. They had a say in everything: schooling, personal life, and romantic relationships... Everything was all right. "It means no time to lose contemplating decisions when you can take action," your mother always stated.

"Whatever his name is, where is he?" Riri mumbled, her tone unpleasant. After learning more about your life, Riri immediately criticized your parents' and Travis' actions.

You and Travis have been dating since your junior year of high school. It wasn't a typical boy meets girl or meet-cute from a romance story. His parents had come home for dinner one day, which is how you met. You were forced to spend time together, left alone at various gatherings, and finally, as your parents intended, you got together. You've been together ever since.

His parents were wealthy and owned a multimillion-dollar software company, Gateway Software, with your father serving as a US senator and your mother as a lawyer. Their two bright stars were a match made in heaven. It's no surprise that you and Travis ended up at MIT together, with you studying computer engineering and him studying politics.

You narrow your eyes at her. She knew his name. You just said it. “You know his name. Travis, Riri, how are you going to act once we're engaged?"

Marriage was the ultimate goal for you and Travis. Your mother had informed you since senior year of high school that we would be your husband. Both of your parents were heavily involved in your relationship. Travis' parents believe that a couple should be engaged between twelve and eighteen months. Your mother reminded you it’s every girl's dream to marry her high school sweetheart. You may be married soon after graduation if he proposes now. Getting engaged during your junior year of university was the ideal timing, and there is a good chance the proposal would happen soon.

You weren’t unhappy. Your parents like him, your mom picked him, and that’s all that mattered.

Shuri clears her throat to renounce her presence, breaking up the mini arguments between you and Riri. “Sorry. Riri, we have that seminar in fifteen minutes.”

Riri’s eyebrows furrowed before straightening them out, “Uh, yeah. We’ll see you later, Y/N. Text me when you’re free.”

“It’s really nice to meet you, Shuri,” you tell her.

“You as well,” Shuri replied, and you waved them off, going back to your activities for the day.

The next time you encounter Shuri, she’s entering the library with who you’re sure is a member of the Dora Milaje entering, following a few feet behind her. Her gaze scans the room before settling on you. You were sitting alone, Tuesdays are your least busy days, and you usually spend hours in the library getting comfy with water and a candy bag, balance. It was your day to catch up on work or prepare for any future assignments, and because most people understood this, they were less likely to bother you. You admit you overextend yourself, but taking a breather is good.

From how she scanned the room, it’s evident she was observing the area, and you motioned her over. Shuri's face brightens when she approaches you, pleased to see a familiar face, and you can't help but smile at her radiance. You feel bad for not checking in on her, but this week has been crazy with the Honor Society elections and a gala with Travis and his parents.

Shuri turns to the woman, who is not so subtly following her; they exchange a few words before the woman turns away, and Shuri comes over to you. "Hey, Shuri!"

"Hi, Y/N," she softened her smile.

You ask, "How are you liking things at MIT?" quickly, anticipating that she may walk away. It's been two weeks since you had your initial interaction with Riri. You're sure the Princess has taken a few classes and explored some of the campus's offerings.

Shuri pushes the backpack she's carrying onto her shoulder. "It's great, but I just have two-morning lessons today. I'm at a loss for what to do with the rest of my day. I went to look at some of the sites on campus and ended up here,” she explains.

You're glad she came here by chance. Your initial meeting was brief, and you were both carried up in the wave of academia. You needed to figure out when you'd have time to devote to the new transfer. "I'm happy to see you. I apologize for not being more helpful."

Shuri, on the other hand, disagrees. "Please, no. Don't be worried; I'm sure you're busier than I am. Everything has been fine. Riri has been excellent, as have the Dean and other instructors. I'm doing good."

That made you happy to know she was settling in well. Without question, the school would go out of its way to make the most important person on campus feel welcome.

"That's amazing," you say, your voice drifting off as you consider your next words. Why were your thoughts slipping away from you? You then decide to share some of the snacks you brought with Shuri. “Oh, dum-dum?” You're watching Shuri's surprise, thinking she's being insulted, then noticing the candy in your hand.

The expression on her face makes you laugh so hard that the least appealing sound in the world escapes your mouth. You snort and hastily cover your mouth with your hands, your eyes wide in disbelief that you made such an obnoxious noise. The loudness of your amusement draws a few glances, and you mumble a modest apology. This time, it's Shuri's turn to laugh, and she does it quietly, aware of her surroundings.

"It's a lollipop," you explain as you pull the red package from your bookbag for Shuri to examine. In response to her admission that she is at a loss for the rest of the day, you make a suggestion. "On Tuesdays, you are welcome to join me. It is usually my study day. I'll be here all day. It's just me and my sweets." There was a random assortment of chocolate, lollipops, snack-size Skittles, and M&Ms.

Shuri raised an eyebrow at you, taking a seat. "That's a lot of candy," she observes, staring at your bag.

"People are wandering around here with nothing but Adderall and caffeine in their systems," you draw it closer to you. "I'm fine."

Coffee, beloved by all, was disgusting to you, and you discovered sugar a good substitute in your refusal to drink it. You remember being a kid, and your mother wouldn't even allow you to look at candy. She wasn't here right now. "If you're concerned, my dentist says I have exceptional teeth and brush and floss twice daily."

"It'll make it easier for me to sleep at night." Shuri jokes. The spherical bracelet on Shuri’s wrist rings, and she gives you an apologetic pout. "I must go, but seeing you again was great."

“You too,” you respond, disappointed eyes watching her stand. As quickly as she appeared, she was gone, rejoined by the person from earlier. You were left wanting more time with her, wanting to talk to her and discover more about her.

The opportunity will present itself the following week. You're sitting at an empty table in the corner, transferring your digital notes to paper. Rewriting them helped memorization. The sound of the chair pulling out draws your attention, and your pulse quickens as you see Shuri in front of you. "Well, hi," you said as you removed the lollipop from your mouth.

You notice her slipping into the open seat across from you. “Sorry, did I disturb you? You looked concentrated.”

You immediately shake your head. Her company could never be a disruption. “No, no. I was so absorbed that I wasn't paying attention to my surroundings."

Shuri drops her bag down onto the chair next to hers and starts taking out various notebooks and a laptop. “What are you working on?” She wondered.

"Discrete Structures." The woman says, nodding. You liked the subject; discrete mathematics analyzes mathematical structures that are "discrete" rather than "continuous." It entailed a lot of work with integers, graphs, and logical assertions. "I use this pen since it's my favorite subject," you explain, holding out the pen you were now writing with, the colorful handwriting inked into the page.

Shuri reads through your notes; she is, of course, already versed with the material. She's probably taking courses that are way beyond your level of expertise. "Can I guess, computer engineering major?"

You exchange a look and a smile, both knowing she is correct. “Yes, how did you know?”

"The notions of discrete mathematics are directly applicable to computing concepts, easy guess." Her brilliance was admirable.

You blink at her, how she could take a simple answer and use it to learn more about you. "I believe," you say, pulling out the bag of candies you bought with you. "You should be rewarded for that." Shuri laughs at your childlike demeanor but nonetheless selects a mini bag of Skittles.

You get the same feelings the first few times you had Shuri near and alone as you did the first time you saw her. Butterflies and increased blood flow to the face. You figure it's because who wouldn't be nervous in the presence of one of the world's most brilliant minds? Your mind tries to justify that it was because Shuri was the royal of the world's most powerful nation. It was expected to feel nervous, fearful of doing or saying anything stupid that would make you look like a complete fool.

As the uncertainty fades, talking to Shuri becomes increasingly simpler. Her personality was the perfect blend of courteous, engaging, and dynamic—she was full of energy, and her mind was incredibly inventive. You were fascinated by her weekly research reports, and you soaked up all the information she presented to you. Her voice became your favorite sound, and you'd often get distracted while listening to her speak, but you'd never tell her. Shuri would probably become aware of how long she had been talking to you, and a world without her voice was not one you wished to inhabit.

Physical barriers were also being erased. You'd always sat across from each other, respectful of each other's personal space. Until one day, she goes from across the table to sit with you one day after you have a stressful day, your head is killing you, and you're very sure you've neglected essential nutrition. In the middle of the library, with your head on the table, Shuri’s there, one hand scrolling through her tablet. The other massaged your forehead and the base of your skull softly, relieving the pressure in your head. "You need to look after yourself," she says. I was well aware of the chaos that was your academic and personal routine. You mutter a quick response, immersed in the sensation of letting yourself be tended to.

Shuri no longer sat across from you after that day, instead choosing to remain beside you, bringing the two of you closer together. You could smell cardamom and iris close to her, warm and smokey. Soothing.

Outside the library, the three of you form a trio in that Riri and Shuri are usually together, and when you see Riri, you see Shuri. You're not bothered by it at all. It allows you to spend more time together. Every week you spent together, you discovered new aspects of her that you had overlooked the day before. The way in which she laughed. Her smirking expression. The amazing discoveries she brought with her every time. The intensity with which she stared at you when you spoke. The way she looked after you on bad days. How her fingers brushed on your skin.

You could have avoided it if you had spotted it sooner. You could have prevented yourself from falling. Cupid had shot his golden arrow, aimed squarely into your heart while you were only looking at Shuri, and he didn't miss.

You're in Riri's apartment on a Friday night. A few recognized faces are regulars at Riri's kickback sessions. Tonight was a rare time you could attend. Riri typically held them on Saturday, but you really wanted to come, and tomorrow was a definite no. Your parents were having a catered dinner at the estate for a few of your relatives who had flown in. Both you and Travis' families would be in attendance, and your mother had already chosen a dress. You could appear oblivious and pretend you didn't know what was going to happen tomorrow, but you knew in the back of your mind that everything would change.

To avoid raising suspicions about your whereabouts tonight, you told Travis you were going to a paint and sip before falling asleep as soon as you returned to your dorm. Unfortunately, you were a lightweight. You've never developed the tolerance to hold your alcohol, let alone the weed. Another thing you would only do if you were in Riri's presence and trusted her to watch after you. You were already gone.

You simply wanted one more night of normalcy with your friends before Travis took over your life. Juggling finishing your degree and wedding planning, if you’d even be allowed to do that.

You're lying on the floor with your head propped up on a pillow, staring aimlessly at the ceiling. “Are you alive over there?” Riri asked, and you nodded. “Alright, because I don’t need Senator John trying to come after me.”

Others were getting started, but you were done for the night. You weren't paying attention to their discussion. Adding something would take thinking; you didn't want to do that right now. Until—

“Aye, Shuri, how’d it go with Stacey?” Stacey was someone you were acquainted with. You’d met a few times in a setting like this. She was always pleasant, but you had no idea Shuri was involved with her. Apparently, everyone else did.

You tilt your head to see Shuri, moving a bit too quickly for your current state since the room begins to spin, but everything stops when you find the one you've been looking for. Shuri’s seated on the couch, a joint between her lips before she hands it back to Danielle. Once the smoke clears, it's simply her, with her flawless skin and defined features. Getting consumed by her, you almost forget the conversation at hand. Almost.

"Did you do it?" Joshua rises up and begins thrusting against the air, and your face turns disgusted. Everyone else seems to think it’s the funniest thing in the world breaking out in a joined laughter that has your ears ringing.

Shuri's gaze is drawn to yours. You had no idea she was seeing someone. Does she not trust in you enough to tell you? Travis came up during your times together, not often, but she knew you were in a relationship, and you’d thought you were close enough. Shuri breaks contact first, turning to the guy who made the vulgar actions. “Cut it out,” Shuri laughs awkwardly. That doesn't sound like the one you're used to when it's just the two of you.

Riri chimes in, “That means she did.”

Upon hearing that, more people are begging for details. Having to listen to Shuri sit here and describe the night she had with Stacey makes you feel sick to your stomach. "Yes, you've got to tell us something because her ass is-"

You start speaking before you notice your slurred and loose words. "I believe that what you do in your private life should be kept private." Hoping to put an end to this discussion. You felt a fire in your chest at the thought of Shuri with anybody else; the feeling was absurd, and you had no idea why it hurt so much.

Someone sucks their teeth in response to your objection. “Of course, Y/N doesn’t like talking about sex.”

"That's because she's never done anything memorable. I mean, you've known Travis since high school, right?" The attention has turned from Shuri to you, and you're not sure which is worse—having so many comments flung at you, being the target of so many remarks.

Someone then says it. "Aren’t you getting engaged soon?" As the months passed, the thing that had been towering over you turned from exciting to terrifying. You could never tell anyone about the flaw in your rose-colored glasses. If you didn’t acknowledge it, it would go away.

“I don’t disclose my private affairs. Yes, I've known Travis since high school, and we're getting married. I don't see what the issue is." Your voice slightly rises. You weren't normally this defensive. You were used to the taunting and jokes. But you were happy with your life, so nothing could bother you. It was the path ahead. It was-

When Danielle opens her mouth, the crowd becomes silent, allowing everyone to hear her. "All I'm saying is going the rest of your life without an orgasm is crazy," she snarks.

Your intellect is too drunk to reply, but your blood is racing. Something snaps within you. In your altered state, you're on your feet and out the door as quickly as possible, wanting to be away from this debate anywhere but here.

You can hear Riri yelling at Danielle, "Watch how you talk to her," a few people call after you hoping you'll return. You wouldn't do it.

You are filled with various emotions, including hurt, hatred, and envy. You've heard a lot of jokes and comments about your sex, or lack thereof. You're used to people thinking you and Travis getting engaged was hasty, despite the fact that you've been together since high school.

For the remainder of your life, you're going to be his wife. He'll be your husband, and your life will be exactly as your parents planned all those years ago—an ideal partnership with assets and reciprocal benefits on both sides.

Your feet led you to the park across the street; you weren't familiar with the area, but you and Riri went there. A fountain was in the center, and you stood on the flat seating area, wandering about in a circle. That's why life felt like a never-ending circle of frustration. A series of instructions to leap and jump. Nothing belonged to you. You did not choose your school, your activities, ballet, piano, violin, debate, soccer... Your parents have meticulously planned your life.

You could hear someone approaching you with a call to your name amid your panic. "Riri, leave me alone-"

It was Shuri. “How did you know I was here?”

“I left after you. You move fast when you’re intoxicated.” She chased you. You tried not to let your pulse rate increase as a result of your emotions. The butterflies in your stomach that usually flew when the Princess was nearby, ready to take flight. "I think you should get down," Shuri suggests, possibly worried about you falling into the fountain.

"No," you groan, reminded of the cause for all of this—stupid Stacey. "Why didn't you tell me you went out with Stacey?" you demand. Shuri is surprised by your search for conflict and your willingness to be so straightforward.

Her face twisted in confusion. “It’s not that important,” she defends.

You freeze, standing still in front of her, looking down on her from your elevated vantage point. "We're friends and meant to tell each other stuff. You told everyone else except me," you complain.

She lets out an exasperated sigh, knowing that talking to you would be futile while you were like this. "I hooked up with Stacey and will see her again tomorrow. Is this what you're looking for?" Her tone reflects her irritation.

Tomorrow. She would be with Stacey tomorrow, and you would receive a ring with the promise of forever. "It appears that tomorrow will be a big day for everyone," you remarked as you resumed your laps around the fountain.

"What are you talking about—come on, Y/N, get down."

You're standing on the fountain's edge, and Shuri stares at you with intense, focused eyes. "No, you don't get it. He's going to propose tomorrow." You watch as Shuri's jaw clenches.

"Mrs. Travis Moore," you mumble in the dark of night, the taste in your mouth bitter. "They think he's going to be the future president of the United States, fucking moron can't even get to his classes on time," you try to lighten the weight of your remarks. You laugh to keep the tears at bay.

Once the panic subsides, you recognize its significance and analyze your thoughts. The pain was for the years that were taken away from you. Your entire life has been mapped out for years without a concrete decision. Anger because the illusion was collapsing. Your gaze shifts to Shuri, the woman you'd become close to during the months of bonding over candy and your common passion for research. Jealous of those whose lips got to taste hers and those who spent their time coaxing noises from her that you would never hear. Jealous that someone would be wearing a ring on their finger to match hers, a symbol of eternity and dedication, it wouldn't be you. The odds are infinitely against it being you.

You want to hide from everything.

You jump down and start walking with no idea where you are going. “Where are you going?” Shuri shouts, jogging up beside you. “I don’t know.” Your car wasn’t here; not like you would be driving anyways. You didn’t want to go back to campus with the possibility of running into Travis and him knowing you lied.

You stopped at the entrance gate, turning around, “I don’t know. I don’t want to go back there. Just leave me here,” you tell her.

Shuri shakes her head. “Absolutely not. I’m not going to leave you outside by yourself.”

“Well, I’m not leaving,” you respond stubbornly.

Shuri's expression is one you've seen before when she's stuck on a problem and begins thinking hard about what to do next. "Would you come to my place?" She asked.

Everything inside of you is screaming yes. Having a night to yourself with Shuri seems like a gift from the cosmos, granting you a small taste of happiness. You nod your head, “But I don’t want to walk to the car,” you plead. Shuri's face softened as she bowed slightly to allow you to climb on her back. You lay your head on her shoulder, inhaling the soothing aroma. Clinging to Shuri's back as she heads towards her car in the direction she chased you from.

Shuri's apartment is close to the MIT campus. The moonlight flows through the blinds on the floor-to-ceiling windows, revealing Shuri's life. It was your first visit, and you spent time absorbing the small details the moon permitted. The bookshelf has reached its capacity, and books have spilled onto the floor. Photos of her family, including her late father and brother. She spoke of them often. Artwork resembled the small sketches she'd make with your colored pens—everything she treasures in one place. "Come," Shuri said quietly, for the residence was dark without the moonlight.

Shuri takes your hand and leads you down the hallway. “This is the guest bedroom. You can sleep in here.” She opens the door, and it’s a simple room with a queen-sized bed. “I’ll be back. Do you need anything? Water?”

No, you motion with your head. "I'm okay," you said, your voice low and sleepy. Shuri's steps are hesitant as she exits the room as if she's worried about leaving you alone, and you nearly beg her not to. The only chance you had to spend with her was tonight, so you made sure to take advantage of every minute of it.

You lie down on the bed and wait, and the minutes seem to drag on forever. Shuri enters the room wearing sweatpants and the Outkast tee shirt she wore the first time you met her.

“Dum-dum?” She asks, handing up a lollipop. Pineapple with coconut. It's your favorite. As you recall your early interactions, you can't help but laugh fondly—the beginning of your story.

You take it from her, unwrap it, and pop it into your mouth. You're not studying, but you might be able to make an exception. Shuri stands at the foot of the bed, unsure of what to do, and the atmosphere takes on an uneasy tone. "What are you doing standing there?" There she was, and you really wanted to be beside her.

“You’re a little under the influence, and I don’t want to leave you alone.”

You consider your options. "You could rub my head? Please?” A self-interested request, "I'll help me fall asleep,” but you'd never get this chance again. That she does, she was opting to be here with you rather than sleeping in her own bed. When she lies down, she offers her arms and invites you to cuddle into her side. It's an excellent fit.

With Shuri so close, you can't help but be attentive, wanting to remember this beautiful moment forever. You let your imagination wander into fantasies where you're hers, and she's yours. You exist in unison. Instead of this lifetime, you're left to wonder what could have been. The silence is soothing, and you sink into Shuri's touch as her fingers strive to relieve the tension in your head. When you let go of everything, the only thing that remains is her: the way she smells, the way her hands touch your skin, and the life her words instill in you.

You are the one who breaks the stillness. “Have you ever wanted something you can’t have?” You have no idea what the question was about. To make your own choices. To be liberated from your parents. Her.

Shuri's fingers in your hair pause. "I know the feeling all too well recently," Shuri confesses.

You don’t respond, afraid you’ll say too much, but if she feels your heart beating, she doesn’t mention anything. The sound of her breathing lulls you to sleep.

You were leaving too soon in the morning, but you knew Travis or your mother would come looking for you to prepare for tonight. Shuri watches you with concern. The two of you barely spoke a few words since you’d woken up together.

"Y/N," she says, her voice strained. "You know, you don't have to do this." At long last, she was able to voice what had been going on in her head.

"Please, Shuri. I've heard it from everyone else but don't want to hear it from you." Your heart couldn't take it since you knew if she told you, you'd stay.

"I believe last night was the first time you were honest with yourself in the months I've known you." Her stare is deadly serious.

"I wasn't thinking clearly. Commitment is intimidating, but I'm alright."

"It shouldn't feel like that," Shuri says, interrupting your explanations. "You should not be afraid to spend the rest of your life with the person you care about."

"And you don't love him," she continues firmly as if that would be enough to convince you, but you were aware that you didn't love Travis. You never claimed to.

"I'm content and think I can learn to love him." This was your last argument since it was the clearest justification available. A life without Travis was an unstable situation, and you couldn't risk destroying everything if you had no plan in place.

It is still insufficient for Shuri. "You'd think after all these years of being together, you'd have learned by now."

She lets out a bitter chuckle, “You’re going to marry someone who, at the very least, doesn’t even know your favorite color. You have no idea how silly that sounds." It was an offhand comment, but it cut deep

The debate is hopeless for you. She’s prepared to counteract everything you have to say. "Can we not have this talk right now? It's finished." With Travis's future political aspirations in mind, this arrangement is more secure, guarantees financial stability for your father's campaigns, and strengthens social relations. That was the strategy. There's no possibility you'd ever intend to undo your parents' hard work.

Shuri sighs, “It’s hard to accept this when I know you deserve better.” Her words wounded you. A message alerts you that your Uber return to class awaits you outside.

You hate leaving now, knowing that your actions have affected Shuri, witnessing her friend settle for a life that isn't hers. If she only knew how difficult it is for you to depart from the security of the one love you've ever known. You're grateful she found a place in your life; otherwise, you'd never have felt this way. You reach closer and kiss her cheek, a selfish deed for your own satisfaction. “Thank you.” You whisper.

This was the conclusion of your story since you had to deny your feelings for Shuri until they faded to darkness. Hanging on to hope can only lead to heartbreak. She wasn't yours, and she never would be.

Dinner with your parents and Travis' family is similar, except that there are a few more close relatives from your respective families there. You spent the morning with your mother at the salon, your hair in a low twisted bun. "A photographer is coming tonight. I need you to be perfect." A makeup artist arrives at your house to prepare you for the night. Your mother had chosen a pale pink modest dress for this occasion weeks in advance, the tag digging into your neck.

Everyone at the table is staring at you, a knowing expression on their faces, and you can't stop the knots in your gut from twisting. The conversation is light, with everyone chatting about themselves:

"I purchased that new BMW 2023."

"Gateway Software stock jumped this week!"

"I went golfing with the Mccoys!"

They said it in a way that made it appear as though they weren't secretly attempting to outdo each other.

"Oh, Y/N," your aunt says in an attempt to catch your attention. "I was contemplating selling my Cape Cod beach home. I believe that would be an excellent area for you and Travis to settle down after you graduate."

Travis' mother expresses her displeasure, saying, "Don't you think I'll be hazardous for the children so close to water?"

Your mother is quick to interject, “Y/N will be an amazing mother. She will not let my grandchildren drown."

As if she understands what a wonderful mother looks like. As if any of the ladies in this room knew what it meant to be a mother, to care for and love their children. You remain silent and smile politely at your mother, defending your unborn children. You were confident that if you opened your mouth, you'd dry-heave. Discussions about children, homes, and marriage. A future with someone you didn't care for—a life you did not desire.

Later, when you're all gathered about continuing to exchange small conversation, holding a glass of three thousand dollar champagne you can't force yourself to drink, it happens—that moment you've been dreading.

A fork clinks against a champagne glass, capturing the room's attention. Travis smiles big, standing center stage and ready to play out the scene you’ve prepared for. "I believe we all know why we're here,” He starts, cutting his gaze to you. You’re sure those surrounding you are buying into it, the couple head over heels and ready to say ‘I do.’ “My dear Y/N, I've been the luckiest man in the world since I met you in high school. Y/N, She’s beautiful uh- smart, she… she’s beautiful and a great person.” Here he was proposing to the love of his life, with impersonal and flawed lines. He didn’t rehearse.

The man before you continues his monologue, “So, will you make me the happiest man in the world,” Travis says, setting his glass down and bending to one knee. Putting in front of you a diamond whose price tag would put a neighborhood's worth of groceries to shame. “Will you marry me?”

You knew your line was a ‘yes’ because, unlike Travis, you had practiced it. Each day until a few months ago, when uncertainty crept in, and your heart ached for more, no longer content with being without passion. Your first clench, and you close your eyes for a second to imagine being anywhere but here, too. You calm the growing panic. In the sanctuary of your imagination, you and Shuri are in her arms as she hugs you and makes you feel so cherished and loved, a sensation you've never felt before her, and the prospect of never being able to feel that way again makes you want to cry.

When you open your eyes, the vision shatters by the reality before you. This was it, and you peered down at Travis on one knee. You'd say yes, he'd slide the ring on your finger, and that was the end of it. You carry a diamond around campus. You have an enviable love story; unlike so many other girls who spend their entire lives looking for love, you found yours at an early age and made it work through all of life's challenges and hardships. A love story that most people only fantasize about. You only had to say yes, so you were astonished even by yourself when the word "No" rolled off your tongue.

A chorus of gasps sounded out over the room. His mom says, "dear god," and his dad responds, "What did she say?"

Travis is mortified and unsure about how to proceed. This improvisation was not in the script, and you couldn't move on to the next page without the answer everyone in the room had expected. "I'm sorry if you didn't hear me. I said will you marry me?”

"No," you say again. The more you looked down at him, the more anxious you became. “Travis, get up, get up!”

His father steps in, “Are you two having relationship issues? We can pay for a counselor-“

A typical response, throw money at all your problems. “No! I'm not going to marry him. I don't love him!" Further disbelief can be heard across the gathering. As Travis stands, you take a step back.

Your mother intervenes, attempting to save your relationship with Travis. The breakup of your partnership would be detrimental to her connection to his parents. "Y/N, don't be ridiculous. How can you not love him when you've known him since you were young?" she argued.

You turn your head, pointing an accusatory finger, "Because you told us to!" Your mother blinks, her eyes bulging because you have never raised your voice at her in your entire life. You had never dared to disobey her before.

You're going to marry someone who doesn't even know your favorite color. Shuri's voice resonated in your head, and you almost laughed out loud because she was correct. He doesn't know anything about you. Throughout all your years together, you almost ended up in a loveless marriage contract out of desperation to keep your parents pleased.

You return your gaze to Travis and ask, "What's my favorite color?" Curious as to what he would answer.

In the presence of all your closest relatives, the friendly guy persona he'd been striving to preserve cracks. He fixed a venomous gaze at you, his brow furrowed. "What?" he muttered.

"Can you tell me what my favorite color is?" You slowly repeat.

"Y/N. I had no idea I would have to take a pop quiz to propose," he spits.

"After all these years, you still don't know my favorite color." You must get out of here and away from him. Away from these people. Back to the place where you felt secure.

When you turn away, Travis grabs your wrist. “Is there someone else?” and the silence is deafening. The whole room is waiting for the reply.

You yank your arm out from his grasp. "I don't know," you say honestly. But the uncertainty of Shuri was incomparable to the life here before you. "But I know I'm not going to marry you."

It's like déjà vu as you rush out of the room and into your car, but you're going towards something new instead of running away from your issues. A cacophony of voices called your name, but you paid them no attention. When you finally got the keys in the ignition, it was with trembling hands, and you looked up in alarm to see your mother and Travis approaching the vehicle. Her face was filled with terror, as if she was scared you had finally found your voice. The strength to say no, the flawless plan she put out for your life, was ruined and would remain so because you would never consider marrying Travis again. You didn't care about him. You didn't want a relationship like that with someone who didn't love you, and he didn't.

It was as though your emotions led, and your head followed as you drove through local streets until you arrived at Shuri's condo. You hurried out of the car, desperate to see her. Let her know that you recognize her truthfulness and that you do deserve and seek something better. Tell her how she invaded your senses and the first time you ever felt valued was in her company.

After trying the buzzer to no avail, you break. The defeat you feel causes you to sink into the hard cement steps and cry until your whole body shakes. The tears continue to fall as you take your hair out of the awful tight bun, ruining your nicely made-up face by wiping your eyes. You're not sure how long you've been there, letting the night chill nip at your skin.

A voice called out. “Y/N?” You couldn't tell who it was until you looked up and saw Stacey holding Shuri's hand. You can't resist the frown that forms on your face as you watch her with someone else, but you know you must be quite the sight with your unkempt hair, trembling body, and smudged makeup. You feel silly now; you forgot Shuri had been out with her. You stand up fast, an excuse on your tongue, but Shuri is quick. "Y/N- Oh my," Shuri rushes to you, dropping Stacey's hand. She's by your side in an instant, fabric wrapped around your shoulder. You hadn't even noticed her remove her jacket as she wrapped you up. “Why are you here? How long have you been out here.”

"I'm sorry, Stacey, but- another time?" She offers, knowing that their night is coming to an end.

Stacey looks between you two. You can sense she's disappointed, despite her efforts to be compassionate. "I understand. Will you text me later?"

Shuri says, "Sure, definitely," ignoring the woman she intended to spend the night with and instead focusing on you. You see the girl give a final look, her expression unreadable, as she walks away, while Shuri is intent on unlocking the door and getting you inside.

Shuri leads you into the kitchen and places you on one of the stools at the center island. "How come you didn't call me?" That's the first thing she says. If your name flashed on the screen, would she have answered the phone in the middle of the date?

"I left my phone at my parent's house." You respond. Shuri grabs a paper towel and passes it to you. You accept it, dabbing your eyes and watching the white material stain with your makeup. “I’m sorry I ruined your night.” You mumble half-heartedly. You're sorry for bothering her, but you're relieved she's not with Stacey.

Her arms are crossed as she stands with her back to the counter, the island between you two. "I'm not interested in that," Shuri says. "What if I hadn't come home tonight? You'd be out there by yourself." She expresses her displeasure, upset by your careless behavior.

You pout. "I wasn't thinking at all. I needed to see you," you confess.

Shuri sighs as she uncrosses her arms. "Can you tell me what happened?"

You put your head in your hands as you recount the night's events, afraid you'll cry again. "You were right. Riri, you, stupid Danielle. Everyone was correct, and I was too dumb to notice."

“He proposed.” You say it directly because you both knew it would happen. That wasn’t the answer she was seeking. She was curious as to why you were here. “Travis proposed, and I refused. I left after yelling at my mother in front of both of our families. I wasn’t thinking about anything.” Your words are mixed together and coming out quickly.

Except for you.

Shuri's body shifts out of your line of sight as she approaches you. A hand wraps around your wrist and pulls it away from your face. "You're not stupid," she says, her eyes sharp. “Don't say anything like that." Then her arms draw you in, and you feel at ease in her embrace. Every fall will be okay if she's there to catch you.

After a moment of holding you there in silence, Shuri speaks, still concerned about your well-being. “I’m going to get something warmer for you to change into,” Shuri says into your skin. You reluctantly allow her to pull away, and she's gone searching for clothes for you, and you're relieved at the prospect of getting this dress off.

Your gaze wanders about the kitchen, looking for something to focus on. The area is spacious, well-equipped, and thoughtfully planned—the appliances, counter, and storage requirements are all carefully arranged. The neatness of it makes you wonder if Shuri knows how to cook. There's a coffee machine on the counter, and you wince at the K-cup assortment.

That’s when you see it—a calendar. Most people would dismiss it as an uninteresting piece of paper that they forget to keep track of constantly, but Shuri's is true to her essence. She kept everything organized and arranged to keep track of the courses and projects she was working on. When you see your name on her schedule, you go over it again and again.

"Library with Y/N." is written in light green every Tuesday. You get to your feet to examine it more closely, your fingers running down the lines of Shuri's handwriting. Curiosity gets the best of you, and you go back a few months. A list of your favorite candies is on the reminders list's side.

You can't take your sight away from the paper when you hear Shuri's footsteps approaching. "Shuri," you begin, and the woman hums, answering your call of her name. “What’s my favorite color?”

Shuri responds immediately. "Green," she answers, effortlessly answering a basic question that the man requesting your hand in marriage couldn't.

In all the conversations you’ve shared, you never told her that. "How did you figure that out?"

“It’s the pen color you use to do your favorite subject. It's the first color gummy bear you reach for, and you always keep them separate. It was the color of your nails when you refused to remove the polish since it was so gorgeous even after it was chipped. It's also the color of the claw clip you sometimes use to hold your hair up." She talks and talks, presenting you with all the information she’s gathered just from observing you over your time spent together, committing every little thing about you to memory.

Her confession causes your lips to part, leaving you speechless for a split second. “You recognized all that?”

Shuri nods before proceeding. "I know you usually grab for the lollipops while reading, and once you finish a complicated question, you eat a piece of chocolate as if it were a reward." Shuri can't stop now that she's started. "I'm aware of all of this because I see you, and you're the first girl ever to steal my breath away." Her monologue does not have a script. Her statements are authentic and heartfelt.

You find you were not the first victim of Cupid's arrow, as he had struck Shuri, who had fallen in love with you before even knowing your name. Mirror hearts with identical puncture marks only beat for each other.

You return a truth of your own as compensation for her bravery. "When he proposed before I responded, I closed my eyes, and it was just you and me. How happy I am with you, the way you make me feel. To feel things I've never felt before because of you is terrifying, but the prospect of never feeling them again is even more so." Nothing could stop the fire from spreading. Shuri's sincerity was the lighter fluid to the sparks that ignited inside your body when you met her.

It all made sense as your world unraveled the second her eyes met hers. The initial encounter enchanted you, and everything following that shattered everything you thought you understood about love.

"I had no idea, Y/N- After all this time-" She pauses, gathering her thoughts, clearly overwhelmed by your confession. You know, when Riri informed me you were dating someone, it hit me hard. I tried not to like you, but the more time we spent together — do you realize how easy you made it to fall for you?"

The delicate expression on her features charms your heart. "Do you realize how effortless it was to fall for you?" you say softly. "I was afraid of the unknown, but this is what I want."

She's in your space; all you can do is lose yourself in her eyes. Everything in her heart is mirrored in her eyes when she looks at you. "Repeat it," she urges.

And you do it because you're no longer afraid. “This is what I want. I want you.” You were meant to be with her. Here and now.

Her hands come up to cup your face, fingertips brushing against the heated cheeks, and your heartbeat quickens. "Shuri," you inhale, staring up through your lashes. It feels lovely to be held. Shuri's heart races against yours; you know the sensation is equal. “Can I kiss you?” she asks, voice barely above a whisper. Shuri leans forward till your forehead is pressed together as you nod yes. Her lips are a deep, scarlet, beautiful, and inviting shade of red.

This is like a scene straight out of a movie. Only it's actually happening to you.

Against what the circumstances presented to you, the two of you had been waiting for this moment since you met. In anticipation, you’re chasing each other. Fingertips touching and lips brushing against each other’s, breathing catching as they become too close. Ignoring her request, you bend in and tenderly press your lips together in an innocent peck. When you separate, you can't stop the giddy feeling that comes over you, and you let out a short giggle.

Shuri smiles at you before leaning in this time, and there, where no one exists around you, Shuri kisses you breathlessly. Your lips move slowly and purposefully together. Neither of you makes an effort to distance yourself, making up for the lost time. All the time you've wasted wishing you could have been together. You don't know if we've been kissing for minutes or hours, but you can't stop yourself. You keep kissing Shuri, and kissing her, and kissing her.

You've never longed to be kissed so badly for so long.

You can feel her muscles tensing. "Y/N," Shuri exhales as she pulls away. She leans against your shoulder, her breathing heavy.

You pull back so you can gaze into her eyes. The shift in the atmosphere made you anxious that she was regretful about kissing you. "What's the matter?"

Shuri massaged the worry from your features using the pads of her thumb. "There is nothing wrong. I'm worried that my impulses are becoming too selfish," she reveals.

This causes a burst of energy to run through your spine. Shuri was considerate and patient with you, willing to repress her desire to ensure your comfort. You could only guess what was going through her mind. "What exactly do you want?" You'd give her everything she wanted, and you're confident that whatever was on her mind, you wanted it just as much.

Shuri gently grasps your chin and turns your head to peer into those dark-brown, hooded eyes. "Tell me," you insist, curious about what scenarios she conjured up in her imagination. “You. I want to witness you fall apart and listen to how pretty you sound when you feel good.” The intensity of your desire for her increases as you surge forward, pressing your lips together once more.

“Please,” you moan into her lips. Her fingers locate the zipper holding your dress up and slide it down. The fabric falls down your shoulders as it loosens over your body.

Shuri gently lifts you in her arms and carefully carries you down to her bedroom. The distinction between sex and making love becomes clear to you that night. Every physical act you two perform is a statement of your passion for each other.

Naked and tangled around each other, Shuri invaded all five of your senses. The taste of her kisses remained on your tongue as you waited for her to emerge from beneath the covers. The fragrance of cardamom, iris, violet, and amber is warm and smokey. The scent you’ve long associated with Shuri is now all you can smell as you toss your head from side to side on the pillow.

Shuri moves at a leisurely pace, indulging you in sensations you've not experienced before her. Clinging to the hand, Shuri has extended upwards towards you while the other hand maintains your thighs apart. Her sounds are wet and obscene as her mouth works between your folds. You're torn between running away from her and bringing yourself down on the face of her precise tongue's ability to dismantle you. Part of your mind tells you that it can't be any better than this as your breath leaves you and your body spasms.

She comes up once she's had enough of the taste of you covering her lips, leaving you sweaty and panting. After grabbing the lubricant, Shuri generously applies it to the strap. One hand wraps around one of your thighs, pulling your leg up on her hip to give her a better angle. Her other hand lines the tip with your opening. "So pretty for me,” Shuri murmurs as she presses forward, entering slowly. That is just one of the numerous compliments she has given you since you began. You're overflowing with emotion as Shuri reaches deep inside of you, and the feeling is one of stretching and warmth.

"Please let me know if it's too much," She breathes as she thrusts her hips, careful not to go too hard for you.

You respond with "Okay," but you don’t care if it is because you find yourself wanting it. Shuri begins to move into you, setting a slow but beautiful pace that has you moaning, and your body shakes. The waves of pleasure have you flinging your head back, a gasp escaping your parted lips, and all the air exiting your lungs. Colors dance behind your eyelids as your fingers fist at the sheets in an attempt to grasp something. Feelings of ecstasy flood your entire body, all the way from your head to your toes. You've never experienced a physical sensation quite like this one, in which you feel utterly attached and entirely overwhelmed.

You press your eyes tight and twist the sheets harder in your hold as Shuri slowly, blissfully, moves inside you. "Open your eyes for me," she pleaded, breath coming out short.

You follow her orders, looking up at her. “You’re making me feel so good,” you find the words to tell her.

As she rotates her hips and moans, your hand grips her shoulder for support, letting the sounds of your pleasure spill out. “My sweet girl, making those beautiful sounds for me. Taking it so well.” She mummers, watching you tremble underneath her.

A palm slides over one of your hands, Shuri tangling your fingers together as she thrusts into you. You grip her fingers tightly, relying on Shuri to keep you connected to her. “Shuri-” you choke out. She eases up, sinking her hips further into yours, wanting you to savor every sensation. Shuri holds your arms above your head with one hand and brushes your hair away from your face with the other.

"Show me how good I'm making you feel." Shuri gives the order. She kisses your lips briefly before shifting away, and you can't stop moaning, shaking in Shuri's grasp as your impending climax consumes you. You gasp as your lips open against Shuri's, and your muscles tense. Shuri continues to drive into you, extending the moment out for you.

It might be one of the best things you’ve ever felt in your life.

Throughout the night, Shuri takes excellent pleasure in extinguishing the never-ending desire in the pit of your stomach.

Perhaps being in someone's home, observing the most private elements of their existence while they slept in the next room, is intrusive. You're seated on the plush carpet, knees to the side. The night sky was aglow with the bright city lights, leaving enough lighting for you to admire the picture frames decorating the mantle closely. You found sleep easily beside Shuri, but it didn’t last long. Your thoughts jolted you awake. You slipped on your panties, and the first thing you could find, which ironically was Shuri’s shirt, quietly slipped out of the bedroom. The couch was the first place you sat down as your leg jumped with anxiety.

There were so many uncertainties that you would need to face—particularly your relationships with your parents and Travis. Your mother would undoubtedly try to salvage whatever remained of the connection with him, but nothing remained. You weren’t going back.

It’s hard not to think of the moments your parents' interference has tainted. Operating in a state of fantasy, obsessed with the thought of having everlasting love with your “high school sweetheart.” Your first kiss, first date, prom. When you look into the eyes of the man you thought you loved, you realize nothing was ever clear. Everything you'd been fed had distorted your mind into a joyful and optimistic state that failed to recognize negative events, resulting in an unrealistic vision of life. Cracks in the memories drained them from the rose color they’d been drowned in.

Your perspective on love is a product of the upbringing you had. You were growing up among what you believed were adoring marriages that turned out to be arranged pairings for selfish reasons. These families are infested with harmful ideals that have been passed down over generations. Their notion of love was longevity and control, how two individuals could generate strength in a world founded on power and greed.

You now see love as a collection of emotions and actions defined by closeness, passion, and commitment. All of which you lacked in your relationship with Travis. All of which your surrounding relationships were unable to develop. People's choices are their own, but you should never let them affect your decisions or life. You were grateful that you wouldn't have to start from a place of hurt and mistrust as you reinterpreted what love and relationships meant to you. Shuri.

Shuri, who feels as strongly about you as you do her. It's nice to have someone who makes you feel special and noticed. You are not the politician's daughter, the ideal girlfriend, or an academic scholar in her eyes. The corners of your lips twitch to be worthy enough to be valued in those magnificent, wondrous eyes. Her smiling face draws your attention to one of the bottom shelves of the bookshelf. You slide onto the floor and sit comfortably in front of the shelves. Careful fingers graze against the cool glass, preserving the original integrity of the photograph.

She is stunning. You remember the first day you met, and you never imagined you'd be here in a shirt that wasn't yours, reflecting on your choices after all these months. Everything in your being, from the cells to the elements, tells you you made the right decision choosing Shuri. When she's near, the visible flesh on your skin rises. When she speaks, your heartbeat quickens. The lips that know how hers taste. The oxygen you lose when she gets too close. You are filled with emotions; you feel so much, but the words can wait. Labeling anything could be too soon and put both of you under undue stress. The only thing that matters right now is you and Shuri.

As your anxieties subside, you look closer at the image, recognizing the late King's T'Challa and T'Chaka. Shuri frequently discusses her brother and father. She admitted to you it was hard in the beginning being avoidant of her grief, and memorializing loved ones who have passed on allows you to sustain connections—celebrating their life and sharing their love, happiness, and long-lasting memories. There's something so lovely about their smiles that shine through the photo that you can't help but move the corners of your lips.

The bedroom door swings open, and anxious footsteps enter. "Y/N," Shuri's nearly panicked calling into the darkness leaves a feeling of remorse in your stomach. You hadn't considered how waking up alone after such an intimate night together would appear to her. Your face flushes as the flashbacks run through your mind.

“My sweet girl, making those beautiful sounds for me. Taking it so well.”

Your face sinks into your hands as if the recollections of the passion you two made together will fade. When your name is called again, you realize, in your temporary anguish, that you never responded to the woman looking for you. "I'm right here," you say softly.

Shuri appears around the corner, and her distorted features relax for a few seconds before concern is written across her expression. "Sorry, I was looking at your pictures," you admit, moving your hand away from the captured scene.

"There's no need for an apology, my dear. I was just nervous when I didn’t see you,” she admits. You frowned. Who knows what would have gone through your mind if you were in Shuri's vulnerable position. Your heart wasn't the only one in danger. Shuri's investment was identical to yours.

It must have hurt her to see you depart yesterday morning, knowing you were going to come back engaged. You're curious if she's envisioned a life for the two of you and can’t imagine the pain of looking into the eyes of someone you wished to have a future with but knew it wasn't possible.

"Are you feeling okay?" Shuri questions. The air in the distance is timid, and the other woman takes her time to assess the situation before approaching. Your lips part to convince her that you're fine, but no words come out, and the room fills with a sigh.

You settle for an explanation for your absence from the mattress you were tangled in only hours before. “I couldn’t sleep, and I didn’t want to disturb your rest,” you say sincerely. If you stayed in bed, you'd be rustling the sheets, tossing, and turning.

"You could never disturb me," Shuri says with a slight grin.

"Even when I show up unannounced at your house and force you to end your date early?" Normally, humor relieves tension, but Shuri is unimpressed, most likely because of the indirect reference to Stacey. "It was a joke," you clarify.

Shuri squats down to look you in the eyes as she states, "It wasn't amusing, but even then. You could never bother me." Her words are simple but comforting.

Another thought occurred to you. "Did you expect me to come back?"

Shuri takes a seat next to you on the carpet, sensing you'll be here for a while. Her gaze goes to the kitchen, where you'd expressed those feelings you'd both battled to hide. “Truthfully, no. Still, I had hope." Her honesty is so heartbreaking that it makes you pause for a moment. There are so many things to wish for in this lifetime, and she decided on a wish for you. Shuri had a glimmer of hope for something that appeared hopeless.

"Did you think of us?" you wondered.

The questions continue to pour in, but Shuri is ready to respond without hesitation. “It’s impossible not to see you and let my mind wander to what it would be like if you were mine. Even when it appeared to be impossible."

Her words pierce your soul. She had been waiting for you. You have no control over falling in love. Nobody can prepare for the moment, but it's worth every risk when someone breathes fresh life into you and makes you feel alive again. Shuri's intense gaze assures you that the chance of harm is nonexistent. Your heart is safe.

You crawl over to Shuri, who’s prepared to accept you into her space. "Thank you for holding out hope for both of us," you say face to face. "I believe the universe has heard you." People talk about the romantic notion that there is someone for everyone, and Shuri is that someone for you. The bond between you and Shuri is something you have faith in.

"I'm just thankful that my dreams are becoming a reality." Shuri leans in to kiss your nose, and you can't stop the childlike giggle that escapes. "Mine, too," you say, contentment washing over you.

Silence follows as you and Shuri share a mutual gaze. You are captivated by the beautiful features of the woman. She probably thinks the same thing as you; I’m falling in love.

The longer you stare, the heavier your eyes grow. A yawn escapes you unintentionally, and Shuri chuckles. "I think you should go back to sleep." Now that the thoughts plaguing your mind from sleep dispersed in the wake of your lover coming to put them to rest, it was time for you to get back in bed.

Shuri extends her hand to yours after standing, and you accept it. As you feel the weight of her palm in yours, an overpowering feeling sweeps over you. The warmth of your love glows in the dark, the quiet of the night. You’re in disbelief that you almost gave this up, but part of you realizes fate wouldn’t have allowed the two of you to part. Shuri came into your life at the precise moment before you began serving a sentence of eternal misery. If the circumstances had their way, you weren’t supposed to be here.

Fate intervened just as you were about to surrender to the cards dealt to you. Regardless of place, time, or circumstance, two human beings linked by the red thread are destined lovers. This mystical chain may extend and tangle, but it can never break. The idea that you were both was made perfect for each other makes your chest swell.

The traffic light outside briefly flashed a red glare against the window. Shuri's hand draws your attention to her. "Y/N, what's wrong?"

“Huh?” Your eyes mirrored the depth of your heart's commitment and adoration, and you didn't even realize it.

Shuri's eyes are firmly fixed on you. “You’re tearing up, my love,” her thumbs quickly caress the fallen droplets from your cheeks.

The lack of sleep lessens the control you have over yourself. Instead of responding immediately, you collapse into Shuri's arms, and a wave of calm washes over you. You are encased in the only embrace that has ever shown you peace and security. "I'm fine, and it's only. You make me very happy.”

Lips gently press on your temple. Shuri wastes no time responding, “I'm just as happy, if not happier, because of you.” The sentiment fills you with pride. All you want is to make Shuri happy. To love her, and you can now, here, and forever.

You pick up your head to surge forward, connecting your lips, and Shuri melts into your touch. It’s still new for both of you, being able to act on emotions you’ve kept hidden, never suppressed. Even as time passes, you don’t think you’ll get used to the effects Shuri holds over you. No matter how long you live this lifetime together, you'll never stop falling for the one who had wished for your heart.

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