Discover Top Posts Tagged with #eggheads

Jul 24, 2025

eggheads | kat

Shuri/Riri Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Summer Camp Teacher!Riri, Auntie! Riri, Auntie! Shuri, Plot Device Rainstorm, Sexual Content, Missed Connections, Riri Williams is a Hot Mess, Shuri's into it

Summary: Sometimes smart people can be a little dumb when it comes to matters of love.

Shuri picks up her nephew from summer camp and meets his rather interesting teacher. Sparks fly--or at least they could, but it'll take a little more effort for them to get to the first date.

en / de / twa

ao3

Steam rose, a thick cloud of scalding heat that left her skin pleasantly flushed. The showerhead let out a steady stream, the pressure kneading the deep ache in her body.

Riri rested against the dark, bathroom tile. Suds dripping, a rag limply hanging from her hand as she succumbed to her mounting fatigue. Every bone, every muscle was heavy. The weight hanging from her skeleton was ready to drop into a useless pile at any second.

She was so fucking tired.

This was the longest day of her life. She couldn’t even manage to be properly pissed off at her nephew. A lethargy had taken hold of her in the lulling silence, leaving her mind slow and meandering.

Shuri is nice, she decided.

The thought was succinct and unintrusive. A reality she was slowly becoming comfortable with the more she considered it.

She didn’t know a lot about Shuri, but she knew enough. She was annoying. Nosy yet reserved. Corny as fuck. An odd, quiet intelligence about them that she couldn’t pinpoint. It made her want to pick at their brain some more, figure out what made them tick.

All things considered, there were worse people to be stuck with. There were worse people to be interested in. At the very least--Shuri was remarkably normal.

…A little too normal.

This was…too easy.

Riri learned it the hard way, nothing in life was easy.

Time and time again--there was always a catch. And when it came to romance? It was always a shit show for some reason or another. Usually she was the reason. It was a rather pessimistic outlook, but it was her outlook.

There’s no reason why this time would be any different.

Riri squeezed the rag out, letting it bite her skin. The rush of water hitting the shower floor, rattling, each drop deafening. A sharp crack against her skull. The heat nauseating, crawling under her disgustingly pruney fingers. As if she needed to peel her skin from the muscle to shake off the feeling.

Nostrils flaring, her stomach lurched up her throat. She fumbled to turn off the water, pushing through the glass sliding doors into the cold air. Hastily, she dried herself off with a towel, rubbing her skin raw. Discarding the towel, she grabbed the lotion on the counter, slathering it on.

Moisturized, she could breath a little easier. She studied the neatly folded pile of clothes set aside for her on the counter. At the moment, her clothes were still soaked so Shuri so graciously offered her own.

She re-tied the silk-scarf around her head, tucking a stray piece of hair away. She grabbed the basketball shorts and t-shirt, sliding them both on. She sighed, eye bags and a frumpy pigeon graphic glaring at her in the mirror. She tried not to think. She couldn’t help but think. Those clinging doubts multiplied everytime she quieted them, leaving her mind ping-ponging. Swinging between nausea and unadulterated satisfaction.

Riri rolled her shoulders, the shirt snug.

Technically it was fine, but nowadays she usually sized up her clothes for a more comfortable fit. Her sister had picked up weight-lifting as her hobby a while back, so during her days off Riri was often forced to keep her company. She didn’t lift seriously, but she did often end up spotting her sister and fucking around the gym until she was allowed to leave.

Absent-mindedly, she picked at the collar of the shirt, rubbing the fabric between her fingers. Impulsively she pulled it up to her nose--curious. The scent wasn’t overpowering--light, crisp. A clean smell that had a lingering sweetness that was undeniably Shuri. She sniffed again, indulgent. Eyes closing briefly as she sighed, cheeks lit aflame as the shame dug its teeth in, mixing in with the burgeoning giddiness.

She stopped herself from doing it again, patting her face quickly to snap herself out of it. Cleaning up the sink and gathering her dirty towels and clothes, she headed out the door.

That only confirmed that she was most likely the red flag in this scenario. Shit job, shit attitude, all around creep apparently. If there was something between them, there was no way it would work out.

Riri rubbed her arms idly as she shuffled down the hall, stewing in her thoughts.

Plain walls, hardwood floors, tall ceilings, yet it was a minimally furnished space. Nice, if not feeling a little empty. The living-room was relatively large, a dark, leather couch and gold-trimmed, glass coffee table dimly lit by the flickering T.V and the occasional bursts of lightning from outside.

Shuri had her arm thrown over the back of the coach, quietly speaking into an earpiece.

Getting closer, she could see a few plates had been set up, filled to the brim with an assortment of foods. Drizzling sauces spread across wide-cut noodles, generously plated with richly seasoned vegetables. Honeyed meats paired with perfectly shaped, buttered rolls. She couldn’t name all the sides littering the table, but she did know that it had her name written all over it.

Riri’s stomach growled, the smell reminding her that she hadn’t eaten all day. She was running late like always. Skipping breakfast and not having time to make lunch. At most she managed to scrape together nasty, break-room coffee before morning roll-call, a few sugar packets during nap-time, and an elderberry gummy from the custodian--Jimmy-- during afternoon pick-ups.

Noticing her approach, Shuri looked back, leather creaking, profile unbearably soft. Without hesitation, she quietly ended her call, turning in her seat. Arms folded across the back of the couch, she rested her chin on her hands, the dark-ink of her tattoo, stark, “You should wear this more often,” she comments, a stupid grin spreading across her face. They had already cleaned up, hair curled close to her face, shrunken from the rain and making her sharp features more pronounced--almost feline like.

“Should I?” Riri asked, rolling her eyes. She leaned against the back of the couch, resting her weight on her hips.

Shuri rested on her cheek, eyes squinting up, amused, “Of course, your stylist has outdone herself,” she said, laying it on thick with an overly-exaggerated English accent, “Look at it, no look closely. These colors are spectacular, the cool tones of the pigeon feathers bringing out the subtle warmth of your features and the silhouette--” her eyes strayed as she spoke, shamelessly checking her out, “Well it speaks for itself--”

Riri sent them a flat look, chewing on her bottom lip to stop herself from smiling.

Cute.

Shuri was cute.

She pushed off from the couch, hands fidgeting with her shirt as she eagerly inspected the spread of food, “So….you cooked all this?” she asked, conversationally as she plucked up a roll, turning it over in her hand before tearing off a mouthful. She paused, stomach rejoicing, before she quickly devoured the rest.

“I’m afraid I’m not that impressive,” Shuri admits leaning on her hand as she watched them eagerly plate their food, “There’s a place by my office that I usually stop-by for lunch. The woman who works there gives me extra--that's why it's rather excessive,” she explained, picking up her un-capped soda and taking a swig before adding on, “I think she’s trying to set me up with her nephew.”

“Fuck that,” Riri said, nearly moaning as she swallowed another mouthful of noodles, “You need to see if she’s single.”

Briefly, she wondered if she was being disgusting, but Shuri didn’t seem to mind, only handing off another plate when Riri had overfilled her first one, “I take it you like it?”

Riri swallowed her next mouthful, delicately patting her face clean with a napkin, “It’s aight,” she nonchalantly said, grabbing the other bottle of soda, uncapping it and taking a swig of it before letting out an exaggerated, blissed out sigh, “But all food is good food to me.”

Shuri looked slightly put off by that answer, mulling over this, “Do you have any favorites?”

“Free.”

Shuri’s face twitched, ever-so-slightly. Irrationally irritated for a split second, but she got over it. That answer was even less helpful, but she decided to take it at face value and…figure out the rest later. She picked over her own bowl, inhaling the rich aroma the herbs gave off, “Mine is this soup--or broth my mother used to make me when I got sick,” she offhandedly shared, “She always made it far too strong, “ she said, nose curling at the memory, but a softer look followed, “--but it always made me feel better.”

Riri’s fork hovered over her bowl, idly prodding her food as she listened, “My mama used to bribe me with candy to get me to take my meds when I got sick. I was a nightmare,” she said, with a far-off look, she hesitated briefly before adding,”My step-dad though, he’d always sucker my sister and I into swallowing a spoonful of mustard to ‘clear the sinuses' whenever we got sick. ’” she rolled her eyes at the thought, food suddenly tasting bitter.

“Oh, I’ve heard of that trick,” Shuri said, nodding her head sagely, “My father would have my brother snort a handful of spices.”

Riri blinked hard, slowly turning towards them dumbfounded,“That’s such bullshit--”

Shuri held up her hands, defensively, “It's not--and It worked, I swear,” she said, with a breathless laugh. She was more or less telling the truth, although she wasn’t privy to the concoction itself. All she knew was that the aftermath was a rather disgusting affair, but the pictures were humorous and she was fond of bringing them out during parties.

“Did you ever have to do it then?” Riri asked, skeptical.

“No of course not,” Shuri said, shaking her head at the thought alone, “I have a delicate constitution,” she drawled before leaning in close, voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper, “Whenever he tried, I’d pretend like I was going to hurl… or he’d suddenly get called out for work…. or birds would appear in the halls. So he always had to drop it.”

Riri shot them a look, pointing a fork at her, accusatorily, “You were a terror,” she declared.

“I was resourceful,” Shuri corrected, eyes lit up with poorly concealed mischief, “It isn’t my fault my brother couldn’t lie to save his life.”

“But--but birds though?”

“Sometimes it was little frogs,” Shuri offered, like that was any better, “My father was scared of those--”

Open mouth, gaping. Riri closed her eyes, eyebrows furrowing. Then, she opened them again, head damn-near sideways as she stared at them, “You were tearing that island up, weren’t you?” she said, shaking her head.

“I was no-” Shuri paused her defense, briefly confused, then quickly remembering Nakia’s cover. It was easy to forget when she was with Riri, so she’d need to be careful. However, that doesn’t mean she needed to conceal the entire truth, “I wasn’t raised in Haiti. My brother moved when Toussaint was born to be closer to Nakia’s side.”

“Oh, an international terror then,” Riri said, filing that information away without question, “Where y’all from then?”

“--Wakanda.”

“Oh that's--” Riri paused, surprised, “--far.”

She didn’t know much about the country despite it being the talk on every news channel throughout the years. It’s gained a stronger and stronger foothold internationally for its breakout discoveries in healthcare and science, but otherwise people hardly knew anything about it or its people.

“...Is that a problem?” Shuri belatedly asked, probing the silence before it stretched on for too long.

Riri tried to shake it off, but that creeping feeling returned again. As if something was out of sight, but all she had to do was turn her head to see it, “Of course not,” she said, “What brought y’all to Chicago then?”

“Oh, I’ve been traveling for work,” Shuri explained, relaxing a little, “I’m overseeing the construction of the newest--”

Riri nodded along, trying to listen aptly as they explained the project. A research facility dedicated to the community as much as it was to the sciences. In any other situation she’d be excited about it-- despite her inability to contribute--but today she only felt numb.

Disappointment fell over her in waves as she slowly pieced together the bigger picture. Shuri enthusiastically described each city--each country--each continent they planned to expand the program to.

Shuri was nice.

That thought remained true, but another one quickly followed.

Shuri wouldn’t be here long.

Chicago was another passing dot on a map. A checklist to mark off before she hopped to the next place. To bigger, brighter things.

There it was, the catch. Victory--the taste of it was cruel.

Those bitter thoughts, that skeptic finally proven right.

Riri stared hard.

She didn’t care much about the movie, but she refused to look anywhere else. She was curled up on the far side of the coach, lips set in a thin, unwavering line as she staunchly looked forward and nowhere else. She couldn’t look. She wouldn’t.

If she did look, it’d only be that much harder to distance herself from Shuri.

And if she got closer to Shuri, all hell would break loose. She’d catch feelings. She’d fall and fall hard. Soon enough she’d either be forced to reject them and be stuck crying her eyes out or be stuck in a long-distance relationship--crying her fucking eyes out.

Fuck that.

Fuck that, fuck that, fuck that.

She would not let that shit happen. She was not strong enough for that. Even worse would be the break up, because of course they’d break up. Then she’d be stuck crying about someone who was half-way across the world, living any scientist’s wet dream while she was stuck doing fuck all--alone. And she’d be so fucking stupid to think it’d work in the first place and—

She watched the movie aptly, only daring a glance across the room every-so-often to look out the large windows to see if the storm had finally let up.

It didn’t.

It only seemed to get worse.

Broken tree branches from who knows where and cherry-red city bikes were being blown like discarded cans. It was some Diana Ross, silver-heel clicking, flying-monkey type shit. She wasn’t risking that any time soon.

So the movie.

She only needed to watch the movie. Clean up, sleep, sneak out in the morning, and quit her job immediately. Even when Shuri leaves, she can’t risk Nakia having any more of her fine-ass family members coming by.

In theory, her plan was perfect, but in practice it was a mess.

One—the movie was weird.

Weird as in unbearably horny and nauseatingly long. It was the type of movie that made you want to look away from second-hand-embarrassment alone.

Two--Shuri was staring.

That unnervingly, unwavering, wide eyed, stare. It was like she was being silently picked apart. The intensity alone made her squirm, but knowing it was Shuri made its heat unbearable.

Riri’s nostrils flared, she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to hold out.

She couldn’t.

“What—?” Riri blurted out, breaking the silence.

Shuri’s head tilted, “Did I do something to make you uncomfortable?”

“No—no, of course not,” Riri said, squeezing the couch cushion, tight.

Shuri rested her hand on her palms making no moves to even pretend like she was watching the movie, “You’re bad at lying,” she quietly notes.

“No I’m n—” Riri bit the inside of her cheek, irritated, “I’m not lying.”

Shuri popped a piece of cubed pineapple in her mouth, looking off, “Lying again,” she muttered, unconvinced.

“I’m not—“

“—You are.”

“You don’t know shit,” Riri said, cutting them off with a huff. She stabbed her fork into her bowl, hitting crumbs. It was empty. She didn’t even notice she had finished off her food and she felt a little cheated by her past self. She frowned, setting the dish aside.

“I know enough to know that you’re bad at lying,” Shuri said, not letting up, “Your eyes always give you away.”

Maybe Riri didn’t have to worry about catching feelings after all.

This woman was aggravating. Shuri doesn’t even know her, but she’s making all these bold ass claims. Poking, prodding, staring with her beautiful eyes—it was evil. This was a weapon formed to prosper against her—

Riri opened her mouth to protest, but stopped short, suddenly self-conscious. Did she really have such an obvious tell when she lied? Instead of complaining, she pulled her knees up, wrapping her arms around her legs and resting her forehead, “...Shut up,” she muttered.

Shuri snickered, tossing another piece of fruit into her mouth with a smug grin, tongue flicking out.

Riri’s eyes followed the movement.

Shuri caught some of the juice that escaped her mouth as she ate another piece of pineapple. Then she met their stare, eyebrows raised, a knowing look on her face. She ate another piece, swiping the excess juice around her mouth with her thumb and licking it pointedly.

At that—Riri bit her lip. Hard. The apples of her cheek were round, mouth smiling without her permission. Ears warm. Body disgustingly hot.

Riri hid her face in between her knees, but she couldn’t help but sneak a glance their way—then another.

Shuri’s canines were sharp.

She smiled easy, cheeky—dangerous. Her eyes were lethal, catching every detail and pinning down exactly what to say to get a response. She could tease a brick wall successfully if she was willing.

Riri was a prime example of that.

Every time she tried to freeze the woman out, they’d find a way to slip past her walls.

It was infuriating.

It was disorienting.

Her body was responsive in a way she couldn’t entirely control--the pull of gravity too strong. And she was slipping. She was trying her damnedest not to lose focus--to keep her feet on solid ground, but…it felt good.

Shuri was annoying--nice--remarkably good.

It was an intangible quality that irradiated from her, a charm that danced about her fingertips and spread to whatever she touched. An attentiveness that she had always suspected of being a farce, but so far it was genuine.

Shuri didn’t feel real, but she was--she was here, and for some unknowable reason she was looking at Riri.

Riri’s hand flew to her mouth, a hiccupping, snort--ugly in every way--escaping. She desperately fought off a laugh for what felt like the trillionth time today. For some reason she couldn’t stop laughing around them. A silly, fluttering feeling that seemed to explode from the slightest comment from Shuri--and Shuri, well.

Shuri could not shut up.

The weird-ass movie finally reached its climax--literally and figuratively. Its absurdity climbing to heights so indescribable that it almost circled back around to being poignant. Almost. If she paid more attention to it, maybe she’d be able to appreciate its artistic sensibilities more, but she was otherwise occupied.

Shuri was talking like always.

“What are they thinking?” Shuri muttered, shaking her head with what could only be described as a grandmotherly level of disdain, “They can’t be thinking. It’s impossible for one person to be so….ugh,” Her head was resting in one hand, tipped to the side carelessly. Her other arm was draped across the back of the couch, a breadth away from Riri’s head. She squinted with disapproval at the screen, nose curled, a petulant scowl on her face. It was oddly endearing with its trivial, unadulterated judgement.

Riri wanted to--she needed to. She wanted it in her mouth--on her mouth. She liked it when Shuri was nice, but she really liked it when they were mean. It was--she was--she wasn't explaining herself, actually.

Riri refrained from sharing any of this. Instead, she cocked her head, “You wouldn’t eat your girl out in a crypto-truck to save the world?” she asked, raising an eyebrow, scandalized. In the corner of her mouth she was chewing on her straw absentmindedly, her legs haphazardly thrown across Shuri’s lap.

Riri was cold. She was always cold. Shuri had the blanket and did not offer it despite her otherwise impeccable hosting. Neither of them commented on this arrangement.

Shuri lifted her eyes, unamused, “You mean the trash can on wheels?” she clarified, disbelieving. Her hand was settled in the crook between Riri’s thigh and calf. Her fingers occasionally ran down the length of skin, rubbing pleasantly along her sore muscles without much thought, “You’re asking if I’d risk my partner contracting tetanus, so we can get freaky in the skeletal remains of a porta-potty?”

Sucking in her teeth, Riri pretended to mull this over, “...You can put a towel down,” she suggested with a shurg.

Shuri straightened up, mouth agape--eyebrows permanently furrowed. Riri only raised her eyebrows further, which only prompted Shuri to blink hard, shaking their head, “You can’t be serious.”

“Deadly,” Riri said, lying through her fucking teeth, “It's to save the world.”

“It’s--it's ridiculous.”

Riri pointed her chewed up straw at them like a microphone, “So…lemme get this right. The world is going to blow up,” she stated matter of factly, punctuating each word with a sweeping gesture, “Boom. We all could die a fiery, terrible death. But, you….you could stop all that by fucking a fine-ass Black woman in a---admitedly--overworked Barbie convertable,” she glanced around as if puzzled, popping her straw back in her mouth before sending them a a skeptical look, “And you wouldn’t?”

Shuri stared at her for awhile before she let out a lengthy sigh, “Well, when you put it like that, it does make a--degree of sense,” she begrudgingly admitted, before tacking on, “But you’d have to agree to it first for it to work.”

It took a second.

The blanket flew up. Shuri barked out a laugh, easily blocking the kicking legs, wrapping her hands around each and trapping them.

Riri struggled to break free, “You never quit, always got some slick shit to say--” she squirmed valiantly as she complained. As she did so, her shirt rode up slowly as Shuri slowly dragged her closer so she was fully draped across her lap, blanket falling to the wayside and all false pretenses as well.

“It is for world peace,” Shuri said, looking awfully smug.

Riri snatched her shirt, yanking it down with a defeated huff, “Shut up,” she muttered, glaring at the ceiling. Flustered by the proximity, her words--everything was terrible and distracting.

She shivered as their palm slid along her calves, the light drag of her thumb nudging the muscle—soft, lingering every so often when she encountered the odd scars scattered across her legs. Like thin, stars bursting, crackling the dark skin with its erratic pale streaks. You couldn’t really see them from a distance. Time was kinder to her then anything, but they were obvious up close. The scars were strange looking to anyone with eyes and two brain cells to rub together.

Shuri didn’t say anything. Even if it was clear that she was studying the oddly shaped scars, she never voiced her questions.

Riri wasn’t sure if she was terribly polite or….waiting. Putting the pieces together slowly, but surely. She made no attempt to hide the fact that she’s been poking around Riri’s past. Asking colleagues that she notably never named. Mentioning past projects Riri toyed around with, but never published,

Even if her questions were relatively tame, they were pointed. She stumbled into the few sore spots left over from the past so... easily it couldn’t be coincidental. It was like she knew what she was looking for, but that was ridiculous. .

Shuri couldn’t know.

Riri was—she was paranoid, that's all.

Overthinking.

Or maybe she wasn’t thinking enough.

She didn’t know much about Shuri, afterall. She knew they were well connected. Vaguely wealthy. Most likely highly-regarded since Wakanda rarely lets anyone come and go so easily.

There was a good chance they could’ve ran in similar circles.

Investors— high-profile scientists and researchers tended to attend the same events. Research circles, chat rooms, talking engagements, charities events, and galas. The degree of separation could be smaller than she initially assumed. As if they could’ve met sooner—like they should’ve, but for some reason they never crossed paths.

Riri didn’t know much about Shuri—nor Wakanda, but that didn’t mean Shuri didn’t know Riri or her work. Even if it wasn’t the whole story—rumors had wings and could spread farther than you could imagine.

It made her stomach churn thinking about it. The not knowing—the knowing.

She wasn’t sure what she wanted to be true

She wanted Shuri to know. And— she didn’t want her to know. She wanted her to ask. She didn’t want her to ask. She wanted her to ask. She hadn’t realized how badly she wanted someone to ask. To sit with what she had to sit with all these years.

That pulsing, neediness, to finally be seen again—it ate at her core.

She missed it.

The rush—the chase for the stars and all the faces looking up at her and nowhere else. Knowing that she could make something that made the nasty years worth it—something bigger then great—greater then the greats— something—

Iconic.

That old scab, she wanted to see it light up red.

Riri shoved that thought back into the hole.

She could not fall back into those habits again.

In an effort to distract herself from the rat-race in her head, she wiggled free, reaching for the bowl of puff-puff. She had already finished off her own bowl, devouring the sweet, deep fried dough in seconds, but the bowl in front of Shuri was still untouched.

However, before she could snatch it up, the bowl disappeared in front of her eyes.

Riri’s brain briefly faltered, head slowly turning.

She didn’t even see them move.

Shuri pointedly held it out of reach, “You’d steal the food right out of my mouth?” she asked, sounding properly scandalized.

Riri took a moment, glancing between the bowl perched in their hand and the empty space on the table. Damn, she’s exhausted. She decided to ignore that, sending them a flat look, “You’ve hardly touched it.”

Shuri was an erratic, but painfully slow eater. She picked off nearly every plate, but took an eternity to finish anything she grabbed.

By the time Shuri had grazed half the table, Riri had stacked and devoured her own plate an embarrassing amount of times. Even then, it was apparent Shuri had been avoiding the dessert. At most, she nibbled on the fruit.

Riri was not going to lose this battle.

She slid close, thighs brushing as she moved to grab the bowl.

Shuri leaned back, calmly extending her arm to keep it out of reach, “That doesn’t mean I haven’t touched it,” she said, grinning down at them.

Riri lifted her chin into their space, narrowing her gaze, “You’re over there eatin’ like a granny,” she said, not missing how their eyes widened ever so slightly when she got closer.

Unintentionally, Shuri fell quiet, the silence palatable. A slow moving giant--invisible, but pressing. Sucking the air between them. Leaving her stranded as she struggled to piece together words. Every language falling short on her tongue, unable to think of anything but the freckles falling around Riri’s eyes and the cocky lilt of her mouth--so close to her own.

“No,” She managed to choke out, that broken whisper faint. As if she was out of breath. She tried again, gathering what remained of her dignity, “I--I eat at a reasonable pace. You, however, eat like a fiend--”

Riri’s eyes were fixed on the bowl, body leaning into their side, “I’m growing.”

“--You’re in your twenties.”

“And you’re pushing thirty, what about it?”

Shuri’s eye twitched.

This…brat.

Shuri was not letting her win.

Riri cracked the barest of grins, as if hearing their thoughts, “You should be investing in the health and happiness of the younger generation,” she said, barely concealing the laughter from her shaking voice, “Uplifting the Black youth and all--”

Shuri snorted, “We are…. in the same generation, Ms. Williams,” she tried to sound annoyed, but there was a desperate fondness that always seeped out when she was around the other woman.

It was getting harder to keep…. everything under wraps. Every time Riri had ducked out of her shell, Shuri couldn't wait to see if what she'd learn next--every sliver of vulnerability--gold. A crooked smile, a stifled laugh, a strangely charming story. She wanted to know what it’d feel like to be wrapped up in the woman’s voice and ached for the next touch, wondering if it’d be the last.

Now that she thought about it, why was she trying to hold back anyway?

Shuri untensed, head tilting as she studied them.

All eyes on her--it was addicting. Riri found her body drifting in closer, comfortable under their scrutiny. Their attention lapping at every corner of her mind, making it hum, pleasant.

Maybe that’s what she liked.

The reason she kept gravitating towards Shuri--the attention. She hasn’t done the relationship thing in awhile. There’s no way she could do it now even though she wanted to--she didn’t want to. She didn’t. She couldn’t. She only liked the chase. The thrill. The knowledge that she could still catch someone’s eye. It was the same urge from before, just different--safer.

Shuri was most likely the same, she decided. There’s no way she actually wanted anything serious. Riri was overthinking earlier. Thinking too much into her intentions--her actions.

Shuri was…nice.

That's all.

Attentive. Thoughtful. Charming. Witty. Funny.

Good--too good.

She wasn’t an unbearable asshole, but that didn’t mean she liked Riri in any way that mattered. There wasn’t much to like about Riri, afterall. They weren’t in Chicago for long, so it only makes sense that they wouldn’t be taking it that seriously. Maybe she only wanted a bit of fun and…

Maybe if Riri let it happen--then it’d be over just as fast. And then she could move on without any feelings being hurt.

Riri steeled herself, accepting this reality, but for some reason her heart still rattled. Thick in her throat, bloodying her words. Seconds ago breathing was so easy, but now she faltered. She decided to ignore it.

She smothered her nerves.

“If you really wanted it--” Riri said, biting her lip as she looked between the bowl and Shuri, “You would’ve eaten it already.”

Shuri was having difficulty thinking.

It was a slight shift, but it caught her attention immediately. Riri’s moods came and went, flitting between a spectrum of faces--each one more interesting than the last. But this--this was different.

She wanted something.

There was an intensity to her focus that wasn’t there before. As she slunk into their side, into her space. She cocked her head just so, looking up through her lashes. Those dark eyes--singing. It left her disjointed, hesitating, gasping for the next snatch of air.

As if something tangible, out sight, but not out of reach, dangled in front of her--waiting.

It was a feeling she hadn’t felt in a long time--it felt good.

Discovery was a beautiful, complicated, misunderstood process. People often fixated on the mythical end goal, but she enjoyed it in its entirety.

Shuri was utterly enthralled by what it took to become the person who could stand on the edge and take the plunge. What captivates a mind enough to justify the risk? What would make you walk away--hesitate?

Why did Riri Williams make her freeze? Out of all the people she’s met and will meet--why did this feel different? Why did her heart shake, anticipating the drop, while her body shied away? What was she scared of discovering? Something new about herself? About Riri? Something else entirely?

Was she even scared or was she--?

Riri’s nose twitched, a small, innocuous movement, but Shuri found herself--

Captivated.

By the moment, her, and everything beautifully strange about their circumstances.

Shuri swallowed thick, “....I’m savouring it,” she murmured, letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

It’d been awhile since she’d been with someone where there was no pressure, no overhanging goal, only two bodies and the thoughts they tended.

It left her wondering, wanting, wishing in a way that felt nostalgic.

A bright, fuzzy warmth. A piece of home she hadn’t known she lost sight of; those early mornings dozing in the sun as she watched her brother train with her father. She’d watch their shadows dance across the courtyard for a long time before she grew restless for her own turn.

Sometimes she’d interrupt their sessions, most times she’d find other ways to amuse herself.

Sneaking off to the markets and haggling with the shop owners for no good reason and wheedling her guard to find her snacks. She’d chew away, unthinking, as she wandered about aimlessly dreaming of her next project and taking in the sights. Occasionally she was distracted by the sound of beads rattling--children laughing away as they kicked their leather-ball through the streets.

She wanted to handle each second like it was precious. It made her stop and linger, holding on, unwilling to let go.

Shuri missed what Riri said next, the soft rasp of her voice making the heat pool in her gut. When did she get so close? The sparse inches between them--burned. Disappearing with each blink, the air between them smelling sweet--familiar.

Belatedly, Shuri realized the scent was her own.

Riri smelled like her--and oh, fuck.

Shuri enjoyed that a little too much.

There was that softer feeling--fragile, new, and breathtaking.

But her physical attraction had been there since the beginning. An uncomfortably persistent, pulsing rawness in her chest that wasn’t cute in the slightest.

Riri in her clothes, in her flat, smelling like that--it only made her greedier. Shuri wanted to mark her all over, see how deep the other woman would let them take her.

And it appeared as if Riri was determined to pick away at her carefully crafted self-control.

Breath tickled Shuri’s ear, easing her out of her daze into a much kinder reality. Strong thighs stretching, couch creaking as Riri balanced herself over their lap, propping herself up on her knees.

The position left Riri a little taller--for once--forcing her to lean down, flushed against Shuri’s chest, steadying her arms on their shoulders as she spoke, “If you wait too long,” she said, voice trailing off as she played with the collar of their shirt, hands inching closer and closer to skin, “You might miss your chance--” her hand shot up, snatching the bowl limply hanging from Shuri’s hand.

Riri launched herself off the couch, cackling as she escaped.

Snapping out of it, Shuri was on her feet in an instant. She rounded the couch with long strides, attempting to grab them, but had little luck.

Short, sputtering laughs filled the living-room as Riri darted about, trying to protect her stolen goods. Climbing over cushions, scrambling precariously around the corners of the coffee-table, popping a puff puff in her mouth with each twist and turn.

Riri tossed the last treat in her mouth, skidding to a halt in front of the patio windows. She tucked the bowl close to her chest, swallowing quickly. Her cheeks hurt and she nearly choked while trying to catch her breath, unable to stay serious even as the other woman stalked towards them.

Riri flashed them a small smile, hands fidgeting with the bowl as she watched them approach.

Shuri sent them an unimpressed look, “You owe me, Ms. Williams,” she said. She pressed one hand flat above their head, leaning against the door and cornering them.

A sudden shyness struck Riri and she looked off, avoiding their gaze, “Do I?” she asked, her nervous laugh petering out as Shuri cupped her cheek, thumb ghosting her skin gently, drawing her eyes back to them.

Shuri’s eyes reminded her of the night sky.

Exhilarating and all-consuming in its mysteries.

A breathtaking honesty that compelled you to get lost taking in the sight. Like an old memory you couldn't help but keep playing.

It reminded her of those times. When she’d get stuck on a project and her Step dad would take her on these spontaneous trips. One time he drove her, Natalie, and a few of the neighborhood kids out of the city, far into the dizzying corn-fields and never-ending night.

They blasted oldies the whole way there, eating burnt-smores and guzzling neon, sugar thick slushies. He’d find a place to pull over and let them climb onto the roof of the car so they could count the stars. She’d lay on her back, dozing off--the smell of marshmallows and the sound of kids laughing drifting over her sweetly.

Riri’s heart fluttered, a soft release that made her tremble like a fawn--utterly unequipped, “It’s…it’s been awhile since I’ve…” she half-heartedly explained, equal parts distracted and self-conscious.

Shuri pressed their foreheads together, noses bumping. Her eyes squinted, a little amused, “You’re in good company then” she reassured.

That whisper of a kiss was far too good to be true.

Thunder rolled, distant, as the bowl clattered to the ground. Strong arms hooked around Shuri’s neck, keeping her close. Riri’s hands slid against the back of her head, fingers rubbing her scalp indulgently, deepening the kiss without delay.

A dizzying embrace, those mounting desires crashing over them all at once. Persistent and through, Shuri licked into their mouth, teeth nicking her lips, but she didn’t notice. Riri shivered and sighed so beautifully. So responsive and vibrant. She was everything and more, all in her arms. In that moment--she was all hers.

Wrapped about her, the hum of her throat buzzing under her skin. Fingers tangling, dragging, tugging her and refusing to let her go.

Tasting copper and hearing the glass door creak under her hand, Shuri remembered herself— reeling back immediately. She pulled away with much difficulty, eyes glossy, “Ri—ri,” she said, weak as she was almost drawn back into another kiss, focus shot every time her breath dusted their lips, “We should slow down,” she suggested, deciding that it was too bothersome to get the door fixed.

At that, Riri nodded a little, “I can--we can,” she blinked, tongue tied, “We can go slow,” she said, breaths ragged as she leaned her forehead against their shoulder, sounding weak, “Slow’s cool.”

“It was that good, huh?” Shuri said, breathlessly laughing, endeared by how flustered they were. Her hand rubbed along their throat, circling the mole there, in awe.

Riri’s nose rubbed against them shamelessly, “Ugh, shut up,” she weakly grumbled against their shirt, “Don't you ever get tired?”

“It is getting late,” Shuri agreed, ignoring the complaints altogether, “If you're available this weekend, we can...continue this another night. I know a place and can get a reservation--”

Riri lifted her head, brows furrowed, “Like a date?” she asked.

Shuri hummed in confirmation, stealing another kiss, quick, heart all-that lighter.

It was easy--sinking into the moment, into her kiss.

As if she was in free-fall.

It was too easy.

Riri exhaled, sick all over as her carefully crafted reality shattered.

A date…why would she…? What…was she doing? She wanted--she didn’t want--fuck she wanted it, didn’t she? It was a truth that surged over her, sweeping her feet from underneath and dragging her out into the mess that was her head. But she couldn’t, it didn’t make sense.

There was the long-distance, a constant creeping threat, but there was something else.

Something far more damning.

Shuri wanting her like that, it was bound to end badly.

Riri always fucked over good people.

As long as the earth turned, she’d attract disaster. She was far too much trouble to justify the effort. She could want romance --the dates, the intimacy, the love, but that doesn’t mean she should indulge. It doesn’t mean she deserved any of it--does it? Flirting and dreaming was easy in theory, but the reality? Seeing Shuri’s face, so earnest and open--undeniably hopeful, she realized she needed to get a grip. She knew she’d only disappoint--it was--it was--

It was selfish for her to try. It was selfish for her to string Shuri along for this long, knowing it wouldn’t end well. She had to--

Before she could say anything, the power cut off.

Darkness blanketed them, the distant flash of lightning illuminating the space. Fragments--fluttering eyelashes, soft lips smiling at her like starlight, and gentle hands reaching to pull her closer.

In the safety of the dark--of her arms-- Riri blurted an answer without thinking. Words rushing out, fragile and panicked.

It was easy, so easy--too easy to say, but the thunder was louder, swallowing her voice in its roar.

#mcu #marvel #shuri #princess shuri #riri williams #ironheart #black panther #bpwf #shuriri #shuri x riri #fanfiction #writing #eggheads

roseamongroses