https://archiveofourown.org/works/43337496/chapters/108938397
Shuri’s bronze jumpsuit when she returns to Wakanda from Haiti.
Shuri’s Portable Home “ekhaya” by the River.
Several options for whatever suits the reader.
Fincube, Coodo, Alpicool E7
Elephants, Fire, River, Namor & Shuri see each other again.
An hour gone by, sitting in front of the fire, the flames high. Her heart skips as Namor ascends from the cold waters, his wing healed, swimming in the sky.
Shuri sadly smiles, gripping the blanket on her shoulders, remembering their fight.
Impaled. The pain steering pain and thoughts of rage. Her will to live, and see him beg.“What I want is Namor dead!” She pulled her body off of the spear, shards of wood splintering through her intestines.
His feet on the wet surface of the riverbanks, wings fluttering. Shuri looks to him as he tentatively approaches.
Memories. So many. Sweltering in the desert sun. “It could’ve been different.” Namor stumbling, drying, dying. Shuri leading an attack against Talokan.
He had thought their souls were identical, that breaking her like he had been broken would force her to see the truth about the surface and endless cycle of exploitation. It had, only he was on the receiving end of her hatred.
You are queen now.” – a warm breeze flows between them.
His decision to avenge Abha and Xelha had led him to break the woman with whom he had once shared intimacy, who looked at him with admiration, understanding and empathy – he had unintentionally made her his enemy, and in her grief, she had become the Black Panther, a vengeful goddess, ready to destroy him unless he destroy her first.
He sees her tear-streaked cheeks in the firelight as she lays her blanket on the sand, standing to greet him. Her hands crossing over her chest in an x. She is wearing his mother's bracelet on her wrist.
His heart warms, proud, hopeful she will keep it, but uncertainty of her feelings ground him as he returns her greeting with his own, Líik'ik Talokan.
“Princess…” he gently speaks “Yield.” Her words forever in his ear. “I spared your life in the desert when you wouldn’t have done the same for me.”
Her sentiments only partly true. If she knew...
“I see you,” his eyes staring into her soul… their hands exploring….
“Shuri,” she says her name, almost a whisper, closing the distance, holding his hands in hers, placing them on her tiny bump – their baby.
Namor presses his forehead to Shuri’s. They breathe heavily, panting, yearning, starving for the other. Her lips wanting, hands roaming.
“…you… do not know love.”
His heart aching. “Shuri,” he moans, her lips brushing his. Touching.
“I love you, too, Namor,” she confesses – the wind singing.
Two souls colliding. Kisses, soft and gentle; consuming. Shuri’s body firmly against his. Namor’s hands on her stomach, sides – her breasts. Groping.
Her fingers tangle in his hair, his hands knead her ass. Bast. She moans into his ear, lusty, lovingly. “I want you.”
