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inmyheadimobsessed · 1 year

Text

When You Left My Picture Changed

pairing: shuri ✘ plussize!black!reader

summary: motherhood was a thing you craved, your dream being to carry and give birth to your own children. you wanted a family, a wife, maybe a cat. meeting shuri gave you love, marrying her gave you a family, though your body still housed the desire to carry a life. your heart condition hindered this, however, and so did shuri's apprehension.

word count: 16.5k (look...)

contains: fluff to ANGST, lots of feels, pregnancy complications, miscarriage, mentions of blood (i wasn't descriptive with it though), medical issues, MAJOR character death (yours), shuri loves her wife y'all like she LOVESSSS her wife so so much poor baby, bittersweet ending(ish), implied nsfw stuff

tags: @verachii @zayswriting @quintessencewrites @rxcently @widowmakker @blackgcomica @n7cje @dejaonline @shinsousliya @generallysapphic @mbakuetshurisprincess @pinkwright @saintwrld @axailslink @mocha-aya @letitias-fav @uhwhatsay @6-noir @cuddl3s4shur1 @percsane @chidinma @shuriszn @lppriceisright @sweetalittleselfish-honey @abenomeiiii @marsolgy @la-reine-insane @shurisjournal @shurismainbxtch @shurisbbymama @bestfriend491 @shuriri4life @adeola-the-explorer @bubshri @playhousedistee @cafehyunji @bigbigbigfan @vixentheplanet @bratydoll

divider by: @firefly-graphics

note: this is inspired by a book i read recently, before the coffee gets cold. that book really kinda destroyed me so i thought i would destroy y'all in return, as usual, i got carried away. y'all just gon have to bare with me on this one fr, like we going on this journey together. y'all better read this cause i put my pussy into this and i'm very proud of it, and i had to get this idea out of my head. it's probably the only piece of angst y'all will get outta me. but i hope youse enjoy still and i hope you shed a tear. shouts out to oomf for translations! mwah mwah!!

translations: my other half - bambo’lwami, my person - mtuwam (all other translations are in the text)

Shuri exhaled, plummeting beside your perspiring form to admire your nakedness under the moonlight. A mellow breeze danced its way into your bedroom and past your curtains through open balcony doors, bringing with it the captivating aroma of dewy night. Their tango you were accustomed to; Shuri grew attached to the act of making love to you as the stars watched and the city listened.

Examining the aftermath of her handy work was also a thing she enjoyed, and she harbored no shame in doing so. Blown brown eyes scanned you keenly, taking in the pretty blemishes her mouth sketched into your flesh. Your breathlessness left her in awe, though you still noted the flash of concern in her eyes, as you always did, and it flamed your damp skin the longer she stared.

Her gaze still made you blush, even after all this time; she held this practiced way of not only looking at you, but peering deep within you as well. Her eyes inspected your innards in the most intimate of ways, seeing all that you were, and everything you wished to be. You loved it, being so wholly known by your love, but the action was never lacking intensity.

Shuri knew this, and she undoubtedly basked in her ability to rattle you so.

“What?” You huffed a soft giggle, unable to lay still under her continued scrutiny, and she grinned knowingly. That same grin she housed for you alone. Shuri kept it hidden from others, only ever bringing it out when in your presence. To be marveled at by the Princess — a thing of fantasies — but this fantasy was your reality.

Her lips met your sweaty temple, pressing in for longer than usual. “Let's have a baby.”

Words, and their syllables alike, knew you no longer as you gaped at your beloved in utter disbelief. “A-A baby?”

“Yes.” She brushed a stray curl from your eyes.

You blinked. Months had trekked by of you begging Shuri tirelessly for the same thing she'd just casually requested. Months of you not so subtly dropping hints: “accidentally” ending up in the children's section at the store, admiring the tiny onesies and tiny booties. Shuri always located you with ease when you wandered off, even without checking your location on her Kimoyo beads.

“We’d be amazing mothers, no?” You’d suggest, smiling big when her curls inevitably popped into the aisle. She never responded, only ever shaking her head with a soft chuckle before beckoning you along as you pouted.

It was not a thing she opted to voice out loud, and she never had to. Shuri’s apprehension was a tangible thing. A clogger of time, of space, and of your air. The force of her unrest was sometimes enough to stifle your arguments whenever the pair of you ended up on the topic of expanding your family beyond you and your kitten.

Shuri's trepidation was in no way unwarranted though. Your long-standing dream to carry and give birth to your own children was one met with support from your wife; she knew what you yearned for, however, the complications that could accompany pregnancy were where all her focus resided, given your heart condition.

It was a woe weighing heavy on her mind. Denying you was never an easy task, it was not one she was particularly fond of either, but she refused to compromise your health.

Even still, she always managed to tiptoe around the topic and it irked you, especially considering you were aware a family was also something she wanted with you. Apprehension about your health fueled her resistance, but there was no denying she held out even more due to the loss of her own loved ones. Her baba and her brother; grief marred her mind, and the prospect of losing you as well was not one she readily entertained.

Understandably so, which was why her declaration jarred you. It had never been like her to spearhead the conversation of a child, that was always your doing.

“You better not be joking with me, my love. It will not end well for you.” You narrowed your eyes at her in the dim room.

“I’m not. I know it's your dream, and I want all of your dreams to come to pass.” She sported a concrete grin, this was her way of cementing her decree. Shuri was not lying. This was not one of her ruses.

Her easy way of adorning you with reassuring words would forever be a thing you refused to grow used to. “How long have you been thinking about this one my love?”

Shuri laughed, trying, and failing to conceal a blush as she bit her lip, “Can I be honest?”

“Please.”

“I hadn't really thought about it. Not seriously anyway, or at least not about doing it in the way you want until moments ago.”

Your smirk grew and she shied away. “You mean just then? When you were inside of me?”

“Don't say it like that please, ugh. I can change my mind, you know?” Shuri turned away from you then, shoving her face deep into her pillow to hide the embarrassment covering her cheeks.

“Oh, you are so cute! You want to get me pregnant, Princess?”

She groaned when you tugged her jaw to face you. “Will you stop it? I'm begging, you're making me sound like a pervert. I just want to have a baby with my wife, Bast!”

You giggled, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips before nuzzling into her bare chest. You listened for her heartbeat, the stuttering thump of it, and the corners of your lips curled against her body. The rattling inside her was uneven — it was erratic and irregular as it often was after sex. Yours was like that, more so than Shuri's, more so than anyones. You loved it because it gave you a fraction of normalcy. How could your own heart be faulty if your wife’s beat similarly?

“So, you would like to have a baby with me?” You questioned, surveying her deeply and she nodded.

Shuri cupped your face, swatting away a rogue tear that made a home for itself under your left eye with the pad of her thumb. She hoisted her digit to her lips, sucking sweetly on the droplet and you gasped. “Yes.”

“A baby I will carry.”

She nodded again, “A baby you shall carry, my love.”

“Shuri… you know how badly I want this. You know how long I have wished–”

She placed her delicate lips on yours, catching you off guard, but you dissolved into it all the same. “We are one,” A warm palm pressed itself into your ever-jumping chest, and she lifted your own to hers. “Our hearts beat as one. I want what you want, our wishes are the same. So, have a baby with me, beloved. Hmm?”

A grin bright enough to outshine the moon and her glimmering children plastered itself onto your face. “Okay.”

Shuri’s laugh resounded, and so did your giggles as she kissed you all over. Her lips brushed all of you: Cheeks and lips. Neck and chest. She licked a long line down your abdomen, sucking your hips as a final pit stop before her tongue found your drenched core for the umpteenth time that night. And you gave her what she wanted, fingers tangling in her hair as gorgeous cries crept out your depths from the sweet sweet sensation of your wife devouring you entirely.

•••

Shuri skipped excitedly down the brightly lit hospital hallway alongside her brother, braids swaying to and fro with enthusiasm that rivaled her own. The Princess's smile was one to be awed at. Experiencing thrill inside walls such as the ones surrounding them now was not a typical occurrence, but for the young genius, her current environment was one of familiarity.

Plucking Shuri from her permanent post down in her lab always proved to be tricky, the act requiring a certain type of finesse, the type only her big brother possessed. He completed the task with ease and always on the first try. T’challa also held awareness of his sister's unyielding passion to help those who she could, and he took advantage of that more frequently than he would ever be willing to admit.

An abundance of the technology being used inside the building came alive first, in her lab, and Shuri could unabashedly affirm it excited her to see her creations be put to use in the way she and her team intended. T’challa knew this about his sister, and it was this very knowledge that convinced the teenage girl to accompany him on his monthly visit to Wakanda’s Medical Center.

Typically, this was a journey made by him and Nakia, an activity cherished by them both. But, Nakia happened to be otherwise preoccupied with the planning of her next mission, and she encouraged her beloved to have his sister tag along in her place.

So here he was, strolling casually beside his dearest little sister, shaking his head playfully at the joy her body housed.

He smiled as he peered over at Shuri, “If I didn't know any better, I would say you little sister, are delighted to be here.”

Shuri bobbed her head in agreement, “I am.”

“I don't think the patients in this hospital would take too kindly to your chipper demeanor, especially considering some of them are not likely to make it. We are here only to offer comfort and compassion to those who may need it. We aren't here for games, Shuri.”

Shuri rolled her eyes at her brother’s statement as she strode ahead of him. “So serious all the time brother. I’m delighted to help, that is what I meant.”

He nodded when Shuri tossed a glance over her shoulder, swallowing his laughter as they began their rounds.

After an hour, the Princess found herself growing bored of the way her brother chose to do things, so, to no one's surprise, she wandered. Shuri explored various wings of the hospital, most of which were plagued by the crushing weight of melancholy. She did not enjoy this, but it was to be expected, and she did what she could to ease the minds of those who were open to her brand of comfort, patients and their families alike.

She couldn't help but scoff at the thought of her brother's impending I told you so; she knew it was underway once he caught wind of her excursions.

The maternity ward carried a different feel than the ones she'd previously traveled to though. There was a sense of hope residing there, a semblance of love for new life, and this, she appreciated. Shuri stood in front of the glass window, peering at the newborn babies behind it and she couldn't fight her growing smile. The Princess valued new life; new life came with the potential for greatness, this was an ideal bestowed upon her by her big brother, and it was an ideal she held in high regard

Amidst her admiration, the brush of a presence crept up beside her, and with this presence came the aroma of watermelon and something minty that she could not pinpoint. The scent combination was heady though, and it pulled on her attention.

Shuri’s gaze shifted from the babies to the body of a girl standing impossibly close to her. This puzzled her, because they were the only two in front of the window, there was enough room for each of them to stand comfortably apart. She grew amused at the sight, the girl was on her tippy toes as she peered beyond the glass, totally compelled by the babbling infants and their squirming. It was quite cute, to say the least, and the Princess’s intrigue began to bustle.

Brown eyes scanned the girl: a white gown draped her body, stopping right above her ankles, and the Princess smiled softly at the cute fuzzy socks covering her feet; they were black and white, and seemed to mirror the cartoon image of panda’s. A large puff sat still atop her head, perfectly round and kinky and adorably messy. Her complexion was a little washed, but the deepness of her skin’s brown still shone through resiliently, robbing the Princess of the air she once breathed.

Shuri had never witnessed eyes so shiny, so striking. They studied the babies with love and something she could only read as want. The girl before her, wore beauty so gracefully, as though she was crafted to stun. And she stunned Shuri, she left every last one of her nerves shot.

She understood now, T’challa’s tendency to freeze each time he looked at Nakia, because Shuri was indeed frozen.

Her feet resisted movement, and despite each of her efforts to pick them up, her sneakers remained frosted to the vinyl flooring. Shuri's lips hung agape and her eyes bulged as she watched the girl. Her heart, oh her poor wayward heart, it smacked against her chest so violently, one would think they were at odds and her internal organs were plotting a coup.

And when this majestic girl smiled, it reached her eyes and they beamed brighter, which the Princess did not think was a thing of possibility. Shuri was certain there was no smile that could ever compare to the one she gawked at now. It was warm, and enough to melt the frost keeping her frozen in place.

“Would you like to know why I adore babies so much, Princess?” Her voice was a song, one she sang sweetly as she clung to the cool metal of her IV pole. Shuri, like many others, was an enjoyer of good music, and this melody bleeding from pretty lips had now made itself her most favorite of all.

What were words? Shuri thought as she coursed her brain for a response to the question she was just asked. Her mouth moved, but Shuri only heard the deafening rattle of her heart inside her burning ears, so she opted for a weak nod, praying desperately that it would suffice for this beauty before her.

“It is easy to fall in love with them,” She drawled, and if the Princess was slightly more coherent, she would have noticed the way this girl scooted closer to her person. “They love you automatically, and once you realize this, that this tiny human loves you and needs you, it isn't hard to reciprocate that love.”

Shuri nodded again, still chasing after words, still gaping in wonder. This girl was wondrous, she'd discerned.

“I think it speaks to the simplicity of life, or rather the simplicity life could potentially hold. I think it makes the act of loving, simpler as well. Won’t you agree, Princess?” She hadn't turned to face Shuri as she spoke, not once; her pretty eyes were left locked on the newborns she adored so wholly the entire while, and this served to heighten Shuri’s fascination.

She bobbed her head once more with an ever-muddled mind, consuming the poetic tone in which this girl spoke, committing each syllable to memory. This feeling wasn't one she could not recognize. She understood it completely; Shuri was enamored by this girl and her presence. But the sensation remained foreign still, and the rapidness in which it arrived was not a speed she was accustomed to, nor was it one she'd anticipated.

The girl turned finally, glancing at the Princess briefly before returning her focus to the babies, and Shuri noted their shoulders were now pressed into each other. The pressure was magnificent, one she wanted to know forever.

“Bye.” One word and she was off, and so was her touch. The only thing left in her wake was the smell she carried with her. Shuri found herself appreciating the remnants of the aroma, like it was a gift this girl awarded to her, a gift she would cherish for as long as she was allowed.

She inhaled the scent, smiling faintly to herself before muttering, “Bye…”

The girl’s form was long gone at that point, but her likeness lingered, in the air and inside of the Princess.

When she reunited with T’challa later that day, Shuri's smile still blared, and her brother grew curious. “Do you feel fulfilled by your visit, little sister?”

She chuckled softly, dipping her head to conceal her blush as she recalled the gorgeous girl who put it there, and how she felt it would now be a permanent part of her features. “Yes, brother. I am fulfilled.”

•••

One week. One entire week had passed following the conversation between you and Shuri about starting your family. Shuri hadn't mentioned it when she woke; she merely went about her morning routine of getting your things ready for the day as she hummed. The topic was neglected during breakfast, with Shuri placing your plate before you as she sat. She grabbed your hand, like always, diving into her plate silently.

Watching her, and anticipating her words proved useless when she stood to clear the table. She kissed your cheek on her way out the door, calling a quick I love you over her shoulder, and she was off. You realized then, that your wife's declaration couldn't have been one of sincerity, not if it had been so easy for her to avoid the subject all together the next day. And the acceptance of that hurt.

Days seeped into evenings into nights, and your body burned with the passing of time, it sizzled in irritation the longer she ignored your obvious frustration. Tonight though, you’d decided you’d had enough of the waiting, and enough of this promise that forever remained empty. The foreseeable conversation with your wife would be one that produced answers and results.

Arriving home early to cook her favorite meal as a means to lure her in and lower her guard was the plan; resisting your cooking was a tough task for Shuri, you’d learned this fairly early on in your marriage, and it became a go-to tactic of getting what you wanted out of her. Never once had it failed you, and it wouldn't tonight.

“How was your day, bambo’lwami? You seem tense.” Shuri questioned as she toyed with your hand across the dinner table, spinning the stunning silver rings adorning your ring finger mindlessly.

A manicured thumb brushed the sizable purple stone sitting pretty on your digit, and you listened for her blow of laughter. It was like clockwork, Shuri needed only a glimpse of your engagement ring to plunge herself deep within the memories from the day she proposed, and there she dwelled, for as long as you permitted her to. An endearing habit, from the most endearing woman.

Maintaining your stern attitude was proving to be an impossible task the longer you allowed your eyes to stay locked on your now entwined fingers, a break was inevitable, this you knew. “It was nice. We're on the chapter about long division now, and I was reminded I am in no way a maths person.”

“I, for one, love numbers and long division. I don't enjoy remainders though, I like my answers concise.” Shuri smiled at you; her voice gave it away.

Seeing Shuri’s face had never been necessary when assessing if she was indeed peering at you; the feel of her searing stare had been a thing you'd made yourself familiar with long ago. It held a certain intensity back then, and it's only grown in weight since the two of you were teenagers.

You let your eyes flutter up to catch hers, learning you were correct. She wore a grin, one that widened at the sight of your deep browns, and it was then that you cracked, albeit slightly. “Maybe you should come teach my students then, hmm?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” Her light chuckle pulled one out of you and you bit your lip as you eyed her face. Bast, she was so beautiful, and said beauty whisked your breath away each day. Her power was immense in that way, and it shattered your facade entirely. “You're staring, lovely girl.”

You shook your head with a shy smile, “I know.”

“If there's food in my teeth, I’m blaming you.” Her laugh was louder now, and you allowed it to wash over you like rain. You imagined a little girl, whose chest housed that same booming laughter, running, and giggling across the palace floors as Shuri chased her. She would be an amazing mother, she had the heart for it, the fortitude, her patience with you told you that much.

“While we're on the topic of children…”

She made a soft curious sound in the back of her throat, something resembling a whine, and Shuri tilted her head. “Are we on the topic of children? From my understanding we were speaking about maths, and how much you suck at it.”

“I'm being serious, Shuri.” You warned, but the amusement never left her pupils.

“So am I.”

You sighed, feeling defeated before you even got a chance to begin. Shuri always managed to shift the subject with her humor, and usually, you let her because an argument would do neither of you any good. But you wouldn't bend so easily tonight, you refused to. “Shuri, do you remember what you said to me last week, when we were in bed?”

“Not entirely, no, but I'm sure it was obscene. You want to refresh my memory? Tell me what I said to you in bed, sthandwa, repeat it for me.” The seductive slur of her sentence had you squeezing your legs together, protesting her pull and the hold she had over you.

Your frustration began its bustling once more, and an exasperated sigh left your lips, “Shuri, can you please not joke? Just this once, I am trying to have a serious conversation with you.” Clearing the table silently was your only sense of solace, and you did so as your wife watched you, amused.

“You know, now that I'm thinking about it. I do recall a chat, a brief one, in between all the pretty sounds you were making for me.” She smirked, clearly seeking to rile you up, but you decided it was best not to react. Instead, you placed both your plates in the sink, turning on the faucet as you waited for her to continue. Shuri's tone of voice let you know there was more to be said, and it would be a lie to say you weren't curious about where she planned to steer this conversation.

She stood then, making her way over to you at the sink, and snaked her arms around your abdomen. Your eyes panned down to how she held you, they trained on how her inked fingers interlocked across your stomach, and you exhaled. You were tense before she touched you, all knotted up over the continuous cycle that never panned out in your favor, but you melted now — you melted for your wife. “Shuri.”

“Yes, it's coming to me now,” Shuri bent down, kissing your neck before hooking her chin over your shoulder, and you couldn't help inhaling the floral mist of her perfume. “Was there mention of us having a baby? No, that can't be right. That doesn't sound like me. Does that sound like me, sthandwa?”

“Shuri.”

When she chuckled, it vibrated through you, and the waves began to chip away at your frustration. “My love, do you really think I've forgotten our conversation?”

“No, I don't. But I do think you're avoiding the subject, like you always do.”

“If I’d been avoiding it, would I have gotten us an appointment with a fertility specialist for next week?” That sly grin of hers was back now, you could hear it in her words, feel it on your skin as her mouth moved.

You dropped the soapy plate, not caring if it shattered in the sink as you spun to face your wife. “You did what?”

“I'm sure you heard me.” And again, you were correct, the smile on her face was one of pride and it only grew the longer you gazed up at her. Something came over you then, and you smacked her, hard against her chest causing her to wince.

“Ouch!”

“That's for making me think you’d lied.”

“Have I ever lied to you, my love?” She questioned, dramatically rubbing the spot where you hit her and you rolled your eyes.

“Not that I know of.”

She softened her tone, doing away with every ounce of levity it previously held. “Then why would you assume I've lied now? That I would lie about this?”

“This is the first time we've spoken about having a child together in a week.” Meek were your words; timid and unsure as you let them tumble from your lips, and you dipped your head. But your wife was having none of that, she hoisted your chin lovingly with her pointer finger, reveling in your beauty and the shy way you bit your lip before her.

Her smile was back again, tugging along with it, a hint of mischief. “Truthfully, I was only waiting to see how long you’d go before your frustration got the better of you. A week is far longer than I predicted.”

You hit her again, and this time she laughed, causing you to mirror her action.

“Now,” Shuri kissed you deeply, tugging you toward your room. “Are you going to let me put a baby in you?”

You giggled against her mouth, allowing her to rip your blouse open hungrily as if you hadn't just fed her, and you listened for the chorus of buttons descending to and clattering on the floor. “I don't think it works that way, Shuri.”

“Care to test that hypothesis?”

•••

The gleam of Shuri’s smile reflected brightly in the window before her as she kept her eyes on the newborns she’d grown fond of watching. In all honesty, her initial return to the hospital was not entirely for them, but over the last three days, Shuri realized there was peace in observing, and they became a calming distraction as she waited.

As the minutes ticked by, she was beginning to believe her reason for showing up would not be gracing her with her presence today, and she grew impatient the longer she was made to stand alone. Pretty babies did what they could to hold her attention, but the pretty girl she'd arrived to see held the most space in her mind. Usually, the two girls would be shoulder to shoulder already, a feeling Shuri found herself chasing, one she missed on her return to the palace, and it was a sensation that slithered its way into her dreams as she slept.

When she turned to leave, the squeaking of wheels made her wince, and the noise barred her from doing so. She turned her body to face the window of babies once more, and there she was, outlined beneath all that hair floating above her head, donning it as one would a crown.

“Were you about to leave, Princess?” She didn't move, nor had she thrown a glance Shuri's way, and yet, the Princess's breath stuttered anyway, merely from listening to this girl speak.

“I-I was, but I think, I think I will stay n-now, since you're here.” Shuri was proud of herself and her ability to say words today, but she still blushed when the girl giggled at the crack in her voice towards the end of her sentence.

She nodded, gesturing for Shuri to join her, and the Princess did so excitedly. “You were waiting for me.”

“I was.” She watched the girl watch the babies, and she allowed the fire inside her chest to flicker alive. Shuri could control it, she believed in her ability to.

Silence befell the teenage girls shortly after, a comforting one, Shuri thought, one that felt like home, and she recalled something her brother said about his relationship with Nakia.

“If you are able to sit in silence with the one you love, and have it be comforting, it is likely that you’ve found your one. Their presence being enough to soothe speaks to your connection.”

She’d made fun of him then, but now, this quote became one she could not wrestle away. Had this feeling stirred awake by this girl been love? Shuri wasn't sure, she'd never been in love before. Regardless of her confusion, three things made themselves abundantly clear: the sweet mist of watermelon clinging to this girl brought her comfort, the press of their shoulders grounded her in a world where they existed alone, and her presence certainly did its part in soothing the Princess.

It startled Shuri, as she gawked at this beauty now; the notion that she could very well love this girl after only knowing her a short while, but the acceptance of the idea wasn't one she felt needed debating.

“You haven't asked me. In the three days you've visited, not once have you asked me.” The girl peered up at Shuri with amused irises and she let her curious smile slip.

Shuri's eyebrow jumped, but she matched the mirth swimming in the pretty eyes that gaped at her. “Asked you what?”

“What's wrong with me.”

“What's wrong with you?” Shuri's question was not one meant to be invasive, because the thought that something could be wrong with the girl in front of her now was never one that crossed her mind, she simply repeated what was said to her out of confusion.

“My heart hates me.”

This revelation wasn't one the Princess understood, and that spoke volumes, because there was very little that Shuri found herself unable to comprehend. How could one’s heart hate them? Organs were not sentient. But she wasn't sure that was a thing she still believed, not when her own heart seemed to be breathing and brimming with a life of its own inside her flaming sternum as she stood next to this girl.

She watched as the girl read her expression on her reflection in the glass and her giggle only served to perplex Shuri more. “What?”

“My heart, she hates me. I assumed you wanted to know what was wrong with me, why I’m here, even though you’d been too polite to ask. I was born with a weak heart.”

Personifying her heart, Shuri found this to be fitting for this girl she had grown attached to, and it made her blood rush. Understanding flushed through the Princess then, and she continued gaping at the beauty this girl housed. “I wasn't–”

“Your staring gave it away, Princess. Just as your staring now is giving away the way you're racking your brain, trying to conclude what condition I could possibly have, if there's a cure, if you can cure me.”

Did she think Shuri's staring was to gauge her ailment? Sure, she was aware there had to be reasons for her residing in a hospital, reasons she lugged an IV around, but Shuri’s focus was never on that, it was only ever on her captivating aura and the effortless way she wormed her way into her cells.

“Does a weak heart prevent you from loving?”

For the first time over the past three days, the girl turned to face Shuri, and it was more than a once-over, she allowed Shuri to capture her gaze. The Princess marveled at the swirling deep browns peering up at her now, and the awe dancing inside. The question wasn't one she'd planned to ask, but it jabbed its way out of her throat and past her lips, warranting an answer.

The girl dipped her head, and it was an action the Princess recognized all too well; she was attempting to bury a blush. “No. It does not.”

“Does a weak heart prohibit your ability to receive love?”

She gasped softly at Shuri’s question, seemingly overwhelmed by the pressing force of it, and she shook her head. Shuri’s pride blared, satisfied with this role reversal — now it was she who snatched this girl’s breath and held her words in captivity.

“So, how can you believe there is something wrong with you? How can you conclude that your heart hates you? When she has never hindered you in such ways?”

She bit her lip, admiring Shuri's face and the sincerity coloring her features. “I think you're the woman I’m going to marry.”

“You will probably spend most of your nights in my lab if you do.” Shuri snorted, smirking sweetly at the girl with wistful browns.

•••

Your skin tightened under the harsh chill of the exam room as you waited. One would think a lifetime of doctor’s visits and spending most of your teen years in and out of the very hospital you were in now, would be preparation enough for an appointment such as this one. But believing that only served to showcase your naïveté, because, despite all of your run-ins with doctors, and nurses, and hospital rooms, none of those encounters rattled your entire nervous system in this way.

Shuri’s warm palm cupped your leaping knee, settling you as she flashed you that sweet smile you loved so much. “Bambo’lwami, I can hear your heart, it’s beating too fast. You need to calm down my love.”

“Maybe I would be able to calm down if it wasn’t so damn cold in this room. Is it normal for a hospital’s temperature to feel as though we are residing in Jabariland? Bast!”

A deep chuckle rumbled from Shuri’s pretty lips, and she used them to press a kiss to your temple. “I can assure you, lovely girl, that the temperature in this room is normal. Now,” She flattened her palm against the small of your back, massaging soft circles into your spine above your top. “Inhale for me?”

You obeyed her instruction, shutting your eyes and inhaling a large gust of air through your nose.

“That’s good, my lovely girl, hold it.” Her warm fingers still traced your back, and Shuri guided you lovingly through your exhale. “Now out, nice and slow. Perfect. You did so well, and I can already hear that heart rate decreasing. Few more times for me?”

Shuri ghosted her delicate lips over yours, letting them linger for a few beats, and you sighed into her mouth. This was the final step in her plan to relax you, and it was one of success, though she hadn't seemed at all surprised by her ability to. Your nerves still wrestled with each other inside you, but the match seemed to be coming to a close now. All because of your Shuri, who read you so deeply, assessing the exact thing you needed, even when your own desires were lost on you.

Her forehead pressed to yours, and you allowed her warmth the opportunity to slither its way through you. “Dr. Chara is the top fertility specialist in the country, and she happens to be a friend. These results will be perfect, trust me when I tell you you are in good hands, great hands my love.”

“I trust you.”

Just as Shuri removed her forehead from yours, Dr. Chara reentered the exam room. It was timed so perfectly, you were certain the act was deliberate on Shuri's end.

“Molweni.” You dipped your head, smiling nervously at the gorgeous doctor before you. “How are we feeling?”

It was an unnecessary question, you thought, surely your distress painted every inch of your perspiring face, was your rapidly bouncing knee not enough to answer this question? For a doctor, she did not appear to be observant.

Shuri’s palm found your knee again, and she gripped it firmly this time. “My apologies, she's a little nervous.”

“And that's normal.” Dr. Chara addressed you directly as she perched herself on the rolling white stool in the room. “Nerves are to be expected, but I can assure you, the results from your HSG are just as your wife predicted. We detected no blockage in your fallopian tubes. Everything is functioning in the way it's supposed to.”

The sigh that escaped you was one of relief, and Shuri pecked your cheek. She’d been right, you hadn't doubted her, but solid confirmation held more weight in this instance. “So this means we can move forward with the intrauterine insemination, correct? Because I do not want her doing IVF, it's too invasive, and I refuse to put any more strain on her body. This potential pregnancy already has her heart rate and blood pressure on the climb.”

You rolled your eyes, and Dr. Chara took note of your frustration. It wasn't unlike Shuri to take the lead in this conversation, she’d done the same thing during your first appointment, and she spends most of your nights in the bedroom reciting facts about possible risks and complications that may occur when coupled with your condition. Her behavior was not to be a deterrent, this you knew; Shuri only wanted you to be equipped with enough information before any important decisions were made.

And you appreciated her efforts wholeheartedly, but at times, it pained you to admit they could be discouraging. “I'm sure Dr. Chara knows all of this already, Shuri.”

“Your wife is correct, Princess. My recommendation, given your wife's condition, and considering the results of her hysterosalpingography, would be to move forward with the IUI. Now, this could involve medication, to ensure that you are ovulating if you otherwise would not be, or a trig–”

Shuri shook her head, “There is no need for a trigger shot or medication, I can tell you exactly when her ovulatory cycle will begin.”

“Shuri.”

“No, I know your body,” She tore her intense gaze from you reluctantly, placing it on Dr. Chara. “I know her body. There is no need for unnecessary steps that hold the potential of doing more harm than good. She will begin ovulating in three days from now. And it is my understanding that the procedure takes place a day or two after that, correct?”

Dr. Chara’s eyes fluttered to yours, and she studied you, analyzing your silence in all this before flicking her tablet off. “Yes, that is correct, Princess.”

“Okay. Then we will move forward with this.”

“And does this work for your wife, Princess?” Her question was coated in something you could not decipher, though the low growl simmering in Shuri's chest made you acutely aware it was not a tone signifying partnership. The two intelligent women were in a standoff in front of you, each unwilling to falter, each believing they had your best interest at heart.

Your tug on Shuri’s wrist caused the sound to dissipate, and her hard-set eyes softened when they found you, returning to their resting hue. “Does all of this work for you, my love?”

“Shuri, do you mind if I have a moment alone with Dr. Chara?”

There was a sigh, and she glanced over at her friend before turning back to you. “Okay, I’ll wait in the lobby.”

“Thank you, mtuwam.”

Like her commanding attitude, Shuri's hesitation to leave the room was something breathable, inhaled by both you and the doctor sitting patiently before you. But eventually she departed, taking with her the stifling fog that previously clogged the room, and you exhaled.

“Sorry about…her.” You laughed awkwardly and Dr. Chara matched it with a warm smile.

“Oh, I've worked with your wife on many different occasions, I know how she gets on. But this is not about her, it is about you, and your body.”

You exhaled again, nodding as you took in the doctor's words. This was about your body.

She cleared her throat, “She may not have been exactly polite in the way she went about it, but Shuri was indeed correct about everything she said. You are familiar with the way IUI works, yes?”

“I'm familiar with Shuri's briefings, yes.”

The two of you laughed at this, and it relaxed you. You felt comfortable with this woman, good, comfortability was a huge thing for you in these situations. “And she was correct about your ovulatory cycle?”

You nodded, “Yes. I will begin ovulating in three days.”

“Perfect. Now, onto the process. Are you familiar with the process?” Dr. Chara tilted her head and her scarlet locs shifted along with her. Your reflection was visible in the lenses of her glasses and you couldn't help but feel you looked like a child: brimming with curiosity and in search of guidance.

“Yes, but a refresher wouldn't hurt.”

She grinned, “No, it would not.”

“Alright so the day that you are ovulating, you will return here, to me. Your chosen sperm sample will be cleaned… You should feel no pain during this procedure, but there could be mild discomfort from the speculum…”

You bobbed your head at each of her words, storing every sentence in your mind, every syllable. It was true that you knew a lot of this already, through Shuri, but hearing it from the person performing the procedure offered a little more piece of mind.

“Do you have any questions for me?”

You bit your lip, pondering the only question you'd ever had about all of this, “Does wanting a baby make me selfish?”

“Why would wanting a baby be selfish?”

You shook your head, “With everything considered. My heart, the risks, the stress. I can't help but feel I'm being selfish.”

“Your body is powerful. Do you agree with that?”

“Ewe.” (yes)

She continued, “Life is precious. Choosing to use the precious life that was breathed into you to bring another into this world is not a decision made lightly, particularly in your case. But you know your body, it is powerful, as you've said. It's powerful, and it is yours. Now, I'm not certain this answers your question, but it's all I've got.”

You let a wet laugh escape you as you heeded her words: Your body was powerful, and it was yours.

•••

“Do you often picture your future, Princess?” She laid on her side, hands clasped beneath her cheek as she admired Shuri, who in turn, admired her. The Princess nestled deeper into the hospital sheets, stroking the girl’s side gently with the simple goal of making her shudder beneath her touch.

Shuri waited a beat before offering up a response, she waited for the inevitable shiver from the girl before her, and she spoke only after witnessing her forearms prickle under protruding goosebumps. “I picture my future with you in it. You are the only construct my mind creates when I think of what’s to come.”

“Princess…” She giggled, and it brought about Shuri’s grin. She enjoyed the feeling, the one that followed each time she made her beautiful girl blush.

Fingers climbed her sides, her arms, stopping on her chubby cheek, and Shuri marveled at the deepness of her glowing skin before caressing her face entirely. “It's true. I never want to know a life without you in it, I never wish to frame an image that doesn't house your face, lovely girl.”

“Speak this promise of a future together into my heart, Princess. Remind her that we've found yet another reason to continue our fight.”

And that she did. A heated palm pushed into her girl's chest, gentle, but willfully firm, and she shook under the collision. “Give me this,” Shuri instructed, reaching for her girl's moisturized hand, and she inhaled the intoxicating whiff of watermelon and mint she so proudly got drunk on before pressing the smaller palm up against her own heart.

“Do you feel that? My heartbeat?” The girl inhaled sharply, eyes sinking into Shuri's face as she bobbed her head. “It beats this way because of you.”

“And my own stammers because of you, Princess.”

Shuri giggled at this, and she proudly wore her blush this time, no longer ashamed of the desperation brought to life by this gorgeous girl. “So. Our hearts beat as one, it seems.”

“Seems that they do.”

A soft kiss was planted directly on the back of her girl's hand; Shuri was devious with the action, letting her lips linger, and studying the way in which her girl squirmed from the simple brush of affection. “Now what are these other reasons for your continued fight? Perhaps I can assist with those as well.”

“Well, Princess, babies of course!” And out came that smile, the one that rayed like the Sun, turning every cell in Shuri's body into complete mush as she melted for her love.

“Ah yes. You are quite fond of babies.”

•••

Waiting. Not an activity you were partial to, but fortunately, you were no stranger to it — your virtuous patience developed against your will, but it was a tool utilized fully now. Two weeks, Dr. Chara instructed you to wait two weeks post-procedure before returning for an HCG blood test or before taking an at-home pregnancy test.

Waiting ceased to be an issue…for you.

For your wife, however, the word itself took on a completely different meaning. One would think, as a scientist, as someone who understood the process of creating new life, Shuri of all people would be the calmest. Or at the very least one would assume she would offer the most reassurance, but reality did not mirror your thoughts.

She became erratic, her impatience morphing into something palpable and muggy, resulting in the deed of centering falling on your shoulders. Not only did you have to monitor your own body; monitoring Shuri's became your responsibility as well. A task that was your normal on any other day, a task you happily completed, but the course of the past few days birthed something entirely different from her usual mannerisms.

Shuri arrived home late most nights, she ate at odd hours, and it was apparent she'd been holding her tongue on certain topics. She still held you close each night though, offering you her warmth, the heat you craved. But questioning her about her distance was difficult, because Shuri was usually out the door before you woke in the mornings.

Trapping her, like one would a rat, seemed to be your only option. So you made your way to her lab in the dead of night, not at all surprised to see Shuri alone in the dim space, sporting an exhausted expression as she worked on a concoction. The early days of your marriage were spent here, with you admiring her, and learning how her brain worked up close.

“Princess, your wife has arrived.” She spun at the roar of the AI’s voice, her knotted features relaxing and morphing into a broad smile at the sight of you stepping off the elevator.

“Hello, my lovely girl.” Shuri pulled you in, looping her arms around your waist and you hugged her back, inhaling her perfume on command. She kissed you briefly, and you found yourself chasing the press of her lips on yours, wanting more of her, all of her.

“Shuri, do you know what time it is?”

She moved back to her work, zoning out partially before awarding you with an answer. “Uh, a little after two in the morning.”

“You know this, and yet you aren't–” She zoomed past you, dashing from one station to the next, and you observed the frantic way in which her hands moved. “And yet you aren't at home in bed.”

“I’ll be done here shortly, you're welcome to wait.”

You sighed, ordering your heart to steady. Shuri hadn't seemed to notice the strain in your words, but the thumping in your chest, that, you knew she was privy to.

“Shuri.”

As the pounding increased, her motions ceased, and she turned to face you. “My love, your hear–”

“Shuri, you knew.”

She approached you in seconds, attempting to ease you into your breathing exercises as she shook her head in confusion. “Knew what? Breathe, my love, breathe.”

“You knew, Shuri. That’s why y-you..” Your exhale bloomed out of you jaggedly, nipping at the back of your throat, and you greeted the pain it brought about as a gracious host would.

“Bambo’lwami, please breathe with me.” Accepting her palm on your back and the circles she rubbed into you seemed like a joke now, because all this time she'd been lying to you.

This realization caused you to shrug from her hold, and frantic eyes scanned your form. “I'm not pregnant, Shuri.”

“No.” She sighed in front of you, granting permission to the deepest of frowns, allowing it to nestle into her face, her beautiful face. “You aren't.”

You gasped. Not a question, but a matter-of-fact statement, confirming your suspicion. “How long? How long have you known?”

“I sensed the shift in your hormones about four days ago.”

“Lying to me for four days and allowing me to believe there was still a chance, instead of being truthful and consoling me. Is this the way we do things in this marriage, Shuri? We lie? We keep secrets?”

Shuri’s attempt to reach for you was not one you allowed, you shoved her away angrily, and she flinched. The hurt on her face you decoded swiftly; never had you denied her touch, and if her expression was to be an indication, not having access to your body did not settle inside her well. “Secrets about my body, Shuri. Mine.”

She stepped toward you once more, desperate arms outstretched, but again, you rejected her. “Let me explain, cela.” (please)

“Was this a joke to you, Shuri?”

Shuri charged to you now, despite your protests, cupping your face with both palms as you wept. Your tears were being flicked away at the same speed in which they arrived, and Shuri pressed your foreheads together. “Nothing about your health is a joke to me, my love.”

“Then why keep this from me?”

She huffed a wet breath, neglecting her own streaming eyes so she could focus on yours. “Disappointing you, hurting you like this, wasn't something I saw myself able to do. But, ultimately I did so anyway. Because here you are, crying, as a result of my actions. Irony is fickle in that way.”

“You should've told me, Shuri.”

“I know. I know, and I’m sorry. Bast, I'm so sorry, lovely girl.” She kissed you, and you allowed it, because her lips could very well be the only thing able to hold your pieces together right now. You imagined falling apart, envisioned letting yourself shatter altogether.

This outcome hadn't been one wrapped in surprise, nor was it an uncommon one. Dr. Chara had explained the success rate of your procedure, she’d given you the percentages, and while they weren't the highest, you extended an olive branch to hope, pleading for at the very least, a tug of friendship between you both. She remained a finicky thing, your friend Hope — taking, sucking, bleeding you dry — leaving you forever drained with very little fight left in you.

“I’m going home, Shuri.” And as you turned to exit, your wife captured your hand, holding tightly to it, as though her very existence were tangled in your tremoring palm. Shuri grew fearful, you realized, as you peered into her deep eyes, fearful that allowing you to leave without following behind would result in her never seeing you again. An irrational belief, you were sure she too knew this, but rationale no longer resided within your wife. Not after she’d witnessed you in tears, tears that still flooded your face, tears that emerged from her deception.

Shuri squeezed your digits, giving you a weak smile. “I'm coming with you.”

Once in bed, snuggled tightly in her arms, you relinquished your body to her, and frustration knew you no more. Truthfully you’d known the entire time; most of your frustration was not directed at your wife, but too much of it had been aimed at your body, too much of it had been aimed toward your battered heart.

She kissed your temple as she rocked you, craving nothing more than to relay comfort, wanting only to ease your mind, and it was then that you allowed your words to fly free from your throat. “I want to try again.”

Shuri hummed, watching your curtains sway in the breeze as she tucked your pretty head beneath her chin, allowing only a single tear to fall for you. “I want what you want, my love.”

•••

“Shuri look at it, I can't do it,” You shielded your eyes, nerves rattling as you awaited the results of the pregnancy test sitting on the bathroom counter before you and your wife. “No, wait! Don't look!”

She giggled beside you, clearly elated by the sheer joy you exuded. “It doesn't matter if I look, my love, I’ve already told you that you are indeed pregnant.”

“But how do you know? You don't know!”

The brush of her tender lips on your neck iced your body, and when Shuri’s fingers grazed your stomach, a shiver flooded your spine. “I know your body,” She inhaled your scent. “And this body, this perfect body of yours, has a baby inside of it. Well, it wouldn't be entirely human yet. The brain is probably forming, and a head, a mangled-looking face, maybe tiny little holes that will result in nostrils, eventually. Also, there's a heartbeat, and–”

“Shuri.”

“I'm just saying. You are pregnant, you're going to have a baby, my love.”

You grinned, finally confident enough to glance at the pregnancy test, and a gasp flung itself out of your mouth. “It's positive… Shuri, I’m–”

“You're pregnant, sthandwa, yes.” Her grin crept sweetly to her lips, lips that you crashed your own into for a heated kiss, leaping onto her, and wrapping your legs around her waist. Shuri giggled against your mouth as she held you, stumbling backward under the press of many harsh pecks to her cheeks, her neck, her nose; she found herself needing to shut her eyes, because you kissed her there too.

The backs of her shins hit the bed, and she plummeted, pulling you all the way down with her. “Shuri.”

“Yes?” Her hands kneaded your thick thighs as you straddled her abdomen, and radiance lived within her smile. Her delight was a result of your own, because she loved you, and said love would exist forever as Shuri’s greatest superpower. Her Panther gifts were nothing comparable.

“We're going to be mamas!” You squealed, bending forward to kiss her passionately, and the longer she sucked on your tongue, the faster your need for her grew. It bustled in your depths, coming alive the second Shuri slipped a hand under your panties.

She hiked up your sleep shirt, tugging slightly on your waistband with a smirk that made your core throb. “Seems that we are.”

•••

“Now,” Dr. Chara began cautiously, and that singular word thickened your air; something wasn't right. Typically, her voice cascaded down on you with the grace of water flowing from heavenly falls, today though, her falls seemed to have run dry, and her words were brittle. “I have received the results from your ultrasound...”

Your prolonged silence stirred up a myriad of emotions, and a spinning mind wasted no time leaping off the nearest cliff, diving head-first into the rapids of worst possible scenarios. And of course, Shuri, who stood confidently beside you, picked up on your shift in mood.

“As of right now, there was no heartbeat detected. But I do not want to jump to conclusions, sometimes–”

Shuri interjected, her expanding anger becoming a stifler, and like your mind’s rapids, you fully prepared to let it pull you under. “What do you mean there’s no heartbeat detected? Are you saying there is something wrong with the baby?”

“Princess, sometimes a heartbeat is not always detected this early on in the preg–”

She shook her head, unable to accept her friend's words, “There was a heartbeat yesterday, and the day before that. How is there not one now?”

“Princess, if you would let me explain instead of continuously cutting me off, you would understand that this is exactly why I am refraining from declaring this a miscarriage.”

A miscarriage. Your heart could not support this pregnancy. Your breakfast threatened a rise at the thought, and you laughed dryly. Yet another thing your body was unable to maintain. At some point you zoned out, completely muffling the heated exchange between your wife and your doctor.

You blinked, and you were on your feet, with no recollection of standing, and you staggered out of the exam room, no doubt with Shuri in pursuit. “My love…”

“I-I can't be here, Shuri. I can't.” You were hot, and you were cold, shuddering under the warmth of your sweat and your unmanageable tears.

Shuri pulled you to her chest, instinctively coaching your breathing, but it was useless, and she knew it. “She hasn't made any decisions just yet, let's just–”

“Can you honestly tell me that you believe everything is alright inside me? Do you hear a heartbeat?”

Shuri sighed, shutting her eyes tight, pinning her forehead to yours and her palm found your pumping heart. “I hear yours. I hear my own. That's all that matters to me right now.”

“How can you say that?” You backed away, rattling your wife with the abruptness, her eyes darting around wildly, searching tirelessly for her misdeed. “Shuri, we just lost our baby…”

“I just want you to be alright, my love.” Sobs flew every which way, people were beginning to stare, you didn't care though, and you did nothing to conceal your tears.

“I just lost my baby, Shuri. I am not alright.”

Pain crept up on you in the dark of night, diabolically demonic in his arrival, as he unveiled the unwanted guest assisting him with the burglary of your body: A gut-wrenching scream, one that startled the yellow-eyed black cat slumbering soundly at the foot of your bed. It woke Shuri too, and she shot to your side faster than a bullet.

“Talk to me, bambo’lwami, what do you need? Tell me.”

“Bathroom…” The only word your lips could splutter amidst the unyielding agony slithering through your abdomen, down to your thighs. Shuri nodded, already sobbing at the sight and sound of you writhing as she lugged your body to the bathroom, shakily placing you on the toilet.

Your muscles coiled; tightened; preparing to snap with each throat-rawing wail. The haste in which your bleeding accelerated knew no bounds as you rocked yourself atop the toilet seat, blistering tears racing their way down your scrunched face. Shuri kneeled before you, bawling as you did, trying her hardest to soothe, though the two of you knew your experience now was not one she could so easily quell.

“Tell me what to do! What can I do? Ndicela undyiyekhe ndikuncede!” (please let me help you)

Eyes hammered shut, knuckles whitening, you shook your head, and it was a reaction Shuri read as a refusal of aid. “My love, Ndicela.” (please)

Finding words to articulate exactly what you needed from her was the most difficult job you were tasked with. You knew you only needed her near, but you could not convey this want, and Shuri grew antsy. Standing idly by, unable to ease your anguish was a rattling fear your wife had, and here she sat, drenched in tears and steeped in your blood, watching her worst nightmare come to fruition.

Hours ticked by, yet still, you remained uneasy. You’d taken to inching around the bathroom floor on your hands and knees, on the prowl for relief, finding it only briefly in a facing down fetal position as your rock-hard uterus continued its assault on your fibers.

Shuri had stepped out of the bathroom for a brief moment, upon your request for ice, though she felt disinclined to follow your orders. You knew she listened still, undoubtedly honing in with those heightened abilities of hers. Your frail figure crawled to the shower, turning it on with plans of climbing in. Your hope was that the steamy water would offer some relief, you were desperate for it, and you would accept it in any capacity.

Scorching droplets pelted your quivering frame as you pulled your knees to your chest and allowed salty tears to mix with water. Though warm, the pressure of the shower still made you tremble, but the act seemed to work somehow. Shuri returned soon after, a frown setting her face as she took in the scene of you practically drowning yourself before her. She climbed in behind you, fully clothed, and held you. Shuri allowed you to break completely in her embrace, encouraging your unravel.

She swayed you from side to side, permitting her heart to crack a little at the sound of your meek whimpers as you buried your face into her soaked neck.

“Umzimba wam akandithandi?” (why does my body hate me?)

“Oh, my lovely girl…” She sniffled, placing a soft kiss on your cheek, not knowing if her lips brushed water or tear droplets, though their mingling made them one and the same now.

“I do everything right, Shuri. Why am I never enough? Why is my heart not enough? I keep hoping that it can be, I hope that it will be, but it never is.” Your words emerged shattered, and you chewed on the shards they left behind in your mouth, allowing your pain to find a new focal point as your throat blazed.

This made you ponder your relationship with hope once more: Was she not an entity capable of breeding only eternal misery? Hadn't all your rendezvous with her produced outcomes such as these? And you accepted then, that she had never been a friend at all, and your dependency on her stemmed only from your own naïveté.

Shuri's chin was hooked over your shoulder as she continued to rock you, and she wept for you, wept for your loss. “Listen to me. You are enough. You are everything. You are perfection, and you are not to be faulted for this, your heart is not to be faulted.”

“Shuri.”

She shook her head in defiance, hellbent on hammering her belief into your mind. “You haven't done anything wrong. You are perfect. My perfect girl, and I need you to know this is not on you.”

Her lips met your wet hair, swaying never faltering under the rain of warm water. Shuri held you like that for the rest of the night, the two of you allowing yourselves to feel every pang of pain derived from the ordeal, and she continued her whispers of reassurance until you went limp in her arms from all the tears, and all the bloodshed.

•••

6 months later

“Come here baby, come here Herbo baby!” You patted your thigh, beckoning your cat to you, but the small feline only stared blankly before sprinting out of the bedroom. A stuck-up little thing, but you loved him dearly.

“Hello in there! This is your mama! Good morning baby! Your older brother is being mean today. But that's okay baby, that's okay!” You cooed into your stomach. There was no change in its appearance, though you were beginning to feel some slight hormonal shifts.

Shuri exited your shared bathroom with a towel around her neck, damp curls glued to her forehead, wearing only a sports bra and basketball shorts. “Four weeks is a little too early to start calling it a baby, no?”

“No.” You rolled your eyes at her grumble, returning all your focus to your tummy. “And this is your other mama, baby! She's very grumpy right now, she has been for the past few weeks, no one knows why. But that's okay! Because she loves you as I love you!”

Your wife sat on the bed, causing you to bounce at the dip in the mattress and she began to study you as you whispered sweet nothings to the life brewing inside of your body. Speaking to your baby made its way onto your list of favorite activities since becoming pregnant again, and you did it most mornings, or whenever you found yourself with free time on your hands, much to Shuri's chagrin.

Whenever she was present for it, you'd always wind up with her curious eyes on you, though the usual splash of amusement you were accustomed to did not sway in her glare. It made you uncomfortable, her calculated stare, but you never pressed the issue, and she never offered up reasoning.

“We're so excited to finally meet you someday soon, aren't we Shuri?”

Your wife hummed with a flickering smile as she massaged your ankle. “Your excitement brings me joy, bambo’lwami. Seeing you this happy makes me happy.”

The smirk you offered her when your eyes met was hardly an unfamiliar one, and her brow jumped in understanding. “You look good.”

“I feel comfortable.” She retorted, scooting up to sit near you on the bed so your shoulders would touch, and you breathed her in.

“I bet my mouth could offer you more. Comfort, I mean.”

You hadn't turned to look at her, but you knew she blushed beside you. Shuri's hot hand groped your bare thigh as you sat next to her, thumb brushing along the deep dimples decorating the expanse of it, and she had to fight a lip bite at the sound of your desperate little moan.

“We better not do anything that could potentially harm it,” That same palm found your stomach, and you jumped. “Or at the very least spike your heart rate.”

She pecked your head, then stood, marching straight out of your room as Herbo did moments ago before you could stutter up a measly, “O-Okay...”

•••

“Will you be wearing a dress tonight, or a suit, mtuwam?” You questioned, peering at Shuri through your vanity mirror. She remained silent from where she perched herself on your bed, watching you intently, as was her favorite pastime.

“Let's just see if we make it out the door first, hmm?”

At this, you turned, puzzled as to what she could possibly mean. “Shuri, the banquet starts in two hours. You need to start getting ready, you know it takes you forever.”

She chuckled, and the authentic rustle of it made you hum. You hadn't heard her laugh, not genuinely, in weeks, hadn't felt the rush it sent through you, so you chased after it now, choosing to tangle in the lastings of it that lingered.

“We don't have to go, you know. If you aren't up for it. We could just stay home, I’m sure Herbo would love that.” She purred at the cat curled in her lap, scratching his ear affectionately, and soon their sounds fell in sync. You twitched a little watching her with him. Being jealous of a cat was inherently illogical, but it was out of your hands. Because it’d been a while since Shuri allowed herself to get lost in you like the way she got lost in Herbo now, and there laid hurt in that.

You sighed, peeling your eyes from them; you decided to focus your energy on wrestling away your current state of drowsiness. It snuck up on you, seemingly with plans to control your night. “Of course, we're going, Shuri. This banquet is an important part of my job, you know this. Or do the events surrounding my career not matter? Is that what you're telling me?”

“I think we both know that isn't remotely similar to anything I've ever said to you.” She rolled her eyes, but not before releasing the cat and trekking to your closet, pulling out your favorite suit of hers. She caught your smirk in the mirror, though she said nothing, opting for a shake of her head instead.

Your night was already off to a dizzying start: all the lights, all the sounds, the people, and the forced conversation. It overwhelmed you, and your unrest became Shuri's fixation, no doubt swallowing an ‘I told you so’ for your journey home.

Fatigue took you, and barely an hour had passed. You craved some familiarity, at the very least, so you understandably jumped when you spotted Nakia floating gracefully across the room in a bold emerald number.

“Oh, sisi, hey–” She stepped back examining your face, your posture, cupping your cheeks delicately. “Are you alright?”

You nodded in her hold, grabbing her hands softly before removing them from your face. “Yes, yes. Just a little tired, this night is going to be long.”

She didn't look convinced, however, and worried eyes panned to a rather agitated-looking Shuri for some insight. Though she had none to offer, at least none in the form of words. You watched as the two women before you now concluded something together, something you were left in the dark about.

It frustrated you, seeing them so in sync over secrets that undoubtedly involved you, and you excused yourself to the restroom to catch your breath.

Standing in front of the mirror now only confirmed your suspicions and pushed understanding through you. You were made aware as to why you’d been receiving odd stares, and you understood Shuri's irritation when your appearance had been questioned. Nakia’s concern was a thing comprehended, because you looked exactly how you felt: weary, disoriented, and on the verge of collapse.

You needed to leave. Immediately.

“And the pregnancy is doing this to her? This early on?” A voice you knew: Nakia.

And the one that followed was your wife's beautiful refrain, although it’d been difficult to recognize under thick layers of exhaustion and hurt. “Yes. She's been trying to hide it, the toll. And I selfishly wish she was successful in doing so, because then I wouldn't be subjected to seeing her fall apart like this.”

You stepped back into the restroom, letting the door remain cracked as you honed in on their conversation. Surely it wasn't wrong to eavesdrop, not when the topic of discussion was you.

“And there's nothing you can do? What about the herb?”

Shuri sighed, and it was the one that alerted you she'd already thought of this idea. “It wouldn't work, and she would refuse. I can't…fix her, not when I do not believe she's broken. But I can't help her either because this is what she wants.”

She was correct in that assumption.

“I don't want her to have this baby, Nakia. She's so happy, she's excited about becoming a mother. But I'm fearful that this dream of hers will only ever remain that, a dream. It's selfish but I can't lose her, not like this.”

You heard shuffling, a sniffle, and what you could only envision to be a hug. A palm slapped itself over your mouth as you drank your tears at your wife's revelation.

It was then that you stepped out, rickety heart pumping blood at its most accelerated pace, and Shuri automatically answered your body's call. She pulled away from Nakia, draping your coat over your shoulders whilst attempting to steady you.

“Lovely girl, what is–”

“Take me home. Please.”

When your beloved wife tucked you into bed later in the night, she clutched you tight; Shuri swaddled your entire body in her strong embrace and breathed out each molecule of her fear ruggedly.

You peered up at her: cocoa eyes were shut, lips hung downward, and she hummed quietly with your head against her chest.

The question simmering in your stomach began its climb, and despite your efforts to gulp it back down, your body belched it out anyway, and you prepared for her rehearsed reply. “Do you want this baby, Shuri?”

“I want what you want, lovely girl.”

•••

“Kumkanikazi, ndicela ixhesha lakho?” (my queen, may i please have a moment of your time?)

Your strides into the throne room were hesitant ones, and Ramonda tilted her head in curiosity, questioning your reluctance to approach her.

“I have to assume this conversation will not be personal, seeing as you’ve chosen to address me so formally.”

You let a soft chuckle slip, reminiscing on the many times the woman in front of you had to scold you for addressing her by her title. She’d been adamant that the girl whom her daughter loved addressed her as she did, “My apologies, mama. My mind is not stable these days.”

She shrugged, “Comes with the territory.” Now it was your turn to let curiosity teem.

You narrowed your eyes at her, puzzled and she laughed. “You're pregnant.”

“How d–”

“You forget child, I am a mother, I’ve endured what you are enduring now, and I lived to tell the tale. The signs are not lost on me.” Her smile covered her entire face, lighting her eyes and showcasing the maturity in her features.

You laughed. Eerie were her methods of knowing the unknown, but her foresight only served as a buffer to make this conversation smoother. You’d worked up the courage to tell her, seeing as you were holding off on an official announcement given your last experience with early pregnancy, but now, the ancestors seemed to have done the work for you, and for that, you thanked them.

“Is this what you've come to talk about?” She questioned, and you nodded.

The Queen had become a voice of reason for you over the stint of your relationship with Shuri. She offered you guidance, and peace of mind when the task of aiding yourself became too immense. “Yes. I wanted your advice.”

She gestured for you to continue.

“Well you've guessed, I am pregnant. And it's something I've wanted all my life. My own children, my own family,” She smiled, squeezing your hand as she stood up from the throne, placing herself directly in front of you. “But my condition… it's making things rather difficult for me, for Shuri.”

“For Shuri?” She quizzed, startled.

“She's… apprehensive about it, worried, doesn't want to risk my health. I love her for worrying. I just, I want this so badly, mama. And while I do feel drained most days, I can’t let go of the feeling that I am meant to carry this life, t-that I am meant to be someone’s mother.” Her loving hands removed themselves from your own, cradling your face instead as she allowed you to cry into her palms.

“Oh… my child. Shuri doesn't want you to have the baby?”

You shook your head, still having a hard time accepting her conversation with Nakia from the other night. “No. She doesn't want me to risk my life giving birth.”

“She loves you, you know? After we lost her brother, her light dimmed. It was there still, but not as bright, not as blazing. But you… when she spoke about you, when she returned from visiting you, it was as if that light of hers exploded. She was the Sun. My Shuri. You brought her grieving heart back to life. Shuri loves you. And it is because she loves you that she behaves this way.”

“I love her too, I just, I think I can–” She cut you off.

“But. Her love for you should not interfere with you making your own choices, especially the choices involving your own body. The body that you take care of, that you fought like hell to have.”

You were spluttering now, sobbing hard as she held still to your wet face. “I–”

“Wanting a baby is not an unnatural thing. Being a mother is hard, but loving your children is easy.” She looked at you, deep and daunting. “Do you want this child you carry?”

“More than anything.”

Then she dried your tears, swatting away what she could. “Then you have your answer to the question you hadn't yet asked. The one you were hesitant to speak out loud. I know my daughter, I love my daughter, and I know this is something she wants as well. She loves you. She wants a family with you.”

•••

“Are you even still attracted to me, Shuri?” The two of you had cleared the lab, or rather, everyone scattered the moment you'd arrived seething and in tears. But your wife refused to move, purposefully averting your gaze.

She scoffed, “Is that a serious question?”

Your steps forward didn't seem to faze her, but when you moved behind her desk and tilted her chin to face you, she stiffened. “You don't touch me anymore. Look at me Shuri. Am I attractive to you? Are you attracted to me as I am now, Shuri? I–”

“I'm attracted to every version of you.” Brown eyes bored into your deteriorating exterior, and you gasped.

You let a hum slip, “And do you want this baby?”

Shuri sighed, evidently exhausted of the question she was being made to answer again and again, growing weary of her own repetition. “I want you happy, and if having this baby will make you happy, then yes. I want you to have everything you desire my love, I–”

“Shuri.”

Her rambling continued amidst your protest, “You deserve to…”

“Shuri.”

“...and I only care about…”

“Shuri enough! You avoid this question every time, diverting your words, shifting the topic to how much you love me, but no more lies! Answer the damn question, and do so truthfully…”

“Uyamfuna lomtana?” (do you want this baby)

A beat passed without words, or sound, and you studied Shuri's stern face trying to decipher her expressions. She gave nothing away, and then, a word. A singular word that clawed at your lungs, doing away with your practiced form of breathing. “No.”

“What?” You hadn't expected her to admit it. Though you’d requested the truth, residing within her lie comforted, because Shuri’s untruths seemed to hurt less than her honesty.

“No.” Her eyes were on you, and they were remorseful.

You swallowed, then blinked at her, trying desperately to string coherent words together. “You don't want our child?”

“Not if it means I lose you.”

You stepped forward, “You don't know that you will lose me Shuri, I–”

Shuri fiddled with the pens on her desk, dropping your gaze again, “You speak of my lies, but not of your own? I spoke with Dr. Chara. She told me she doesn't believe your heart can withstand childbirth.” This disclosure silenced you, because it was one you’d known and made peace with.

“You think I can't sense what you're going through? You choose to suffer in silence, but despite this, your body still calls out to me, she alerts me of your pain every waking day.”

You hadn't realized you were in tears again, but there they were, trickling from your sockets and staining your face. But the emotion driving them was not one anticipated: anger. Anger at your wife, anger at yourself, and the utmost fury at your heart. “Let's not forget it was you who encouraged me to–”

She stood, “Yes and I regret it! There isn't a day that goes by where I do not wish to take it all back. We were fine before, we were happy.” Shuri's voice blared, never had she raised her voice at you, and you could tell it wasn't a planned reaction.

“Are you not happy now? Shuri, are you unhappy with us?” Your voice cracked on its way out your throat, cracking Shuri’s heart in retaliation.

“Seeing you in pain makes me unhappy. Seeing you suffer makes me want to die. I am unhappy with what this… pregnancy is doing to you.”

“Shuri…”

She moved closer to hold you, to stable you as she often did, and Bast, you let her. You let her kiss your soaked face, you let your tears mingle, because in spite of it all, you’d missed her, and the heat of her touch.

•••

Returning to the maternity ward after years of absence came with waves of emotions for the Princess. She'd fallen in love beneath these very fluorescent lights, and the images of her lips on yours for the first time fluttered her heart as she followed the pattering of yours.

Shuri planted her feet perfectly in the fourth tile back from the window, and she stuffed her fists into the pockets of her slacks, patiently awaiting the press of your shoulder against hers, and like clockwork, it came without a beat of hesitation. She'd figured out later on why you did it, why you stood so close to her that first day. Her warmth called to you, pulled on your muscles like a magnet, and you allowed your body to be attracted to hers without resistance.

“You’d choose my life over the one growing inside me, Princess?” Your eyes hadn't shifted from the squirming newborns, and Shuri hadn't expected them to. She marveled at you still, admiring the striking beauty etched into your dark skin. Breathing became a thing of the past the longer the Princess stared; Shuri wanted nothing more than for the vision of you to render her unconscious, you were immersive in that way.

“Without question.” Not the answer you wished for, Shuri knew this, but it was the only answer you’d get. The lying, the holding back, she grew tired of it all, and she needed to cement the notion that you were all she cared about into your bones.

You nodded at this, and Shuri found herself leaning into each bob of your head. She was gone off your existence alone, pitiful really, but the Princess had no issue being pathetic for you. “You choose me.”

“I will forever choose you.”

She giggled a little at you craning your neck to see the babbling babies, and she grinned when you grinned. “I choose me too, Princess. And choosing me means I choose this pregnancy. I choose to have my baby.”

Shuri didn't speak when you directed your words to your stomach, she only watched, and she listened. “Do you hear that, baby? I choose you. But I need to know if you'll forgive me, because I might only be able to give you life, little one.”

The pressure of touching shoulders increased, per Shuri’s doing. She wanted to grab you, kiss you, scream at you to choose a different choice, but she couldn't. Shuri understood this was not up to her, and it was then she began to accept the crippling reality that her life might be longer than yours, your breathing may cease before her own. These weren't thoughts she wished to speak out loud, however, so she opted to dive deeper into your feel as she stood silently beside you.

“Will you forgive me, Princess?” Shuri did not enjoy the meekness of your tone, she did not enjoy hearing your confidence waver.

She turned to you then, and you mimicked her. Shuri captured your lips in hers, pouring her all into the kiss, all whilst trying to drink in every drop of you as though it were her last sip. She felt you quiver at the feel of her fingertips brushing your stomach, but she only used it as an opportunity to tug you closer. The passion beaming off the both of you expanded, blooming in pressure and power, Shuri was certain every glass surface surrounding you prepared for their inevitable shattering.

The kiss numbed her mind, and when she pulled away, she stuttered, struggling horribly to speak. “I-I, I choose you. And I choose your choices, bambo'lwami.”

•••

Shuri despised hospital rooms; loving you brought about this disdain. She hated the sight of you hooked up to beeping machines and tangled tubes and wires. Something she hated even more: having zero control or say in the care you received.

The Princess was gifted in many areas, but her preferred field of work was being your live-in, round-the-clock, go-to, nurse, doctor, and personal hand holder. These were her most cherished skills, caring for you was Shuri’s most cherished attribute. So, evidently, when she'd been barred from having any medical say-so in your labor preparation (per your request), the Princess wanted to throw a fit.

“You're oddly calm, mtuwam.” She let your strained voice tug her from inside her whirring mind, matching your weak smile.

She sighed, interlocking your fingers with a low laugh, allowing her stomach to bubble at the sight of gorgeous rings wrapped around perfect fingers. “I'm calm because you are. Though I would like to know what's taking that doctor so long. You were scheduled for surg–”

“Shuri.”

“I’m sorry, I'm sorry. My role here is to be a doting wife, not a domineering doctor, I know.” She bit her lip, utterly enamored by the sight of you, even now, especially now. Shuri admired your resilience through all of this, she wanted to be exactly like you someday.

She studied the way your eyes remained bright, elated, and blown, as you smirked at her. “Domineering doctor. I can unabashedly admit I do not hate the sound of that. You want to dominate me, Dr. Udaku?”

“I'm so in love with you.” Again, your resilience was a thing to be admired. Only you would find time to make jokes such as those at a time like this.

“You're rubbing off on me Princess. Oh! That's another one! You want to rub off on me, Princess?”

Shuri understood fully what her wife was doing; this was merely a tactic to relax Shuri's mind, get it off of the sight of her in that bleak hospital gown, shift her thoughts from the looming cloud of uncertainty hovering overhead. And if she hadn't known better, it might have worked.

Just as she began to speak, the door opened, and in walked the extremely tardy doctor, Shuri thought, but she pulled her lips into a hard line, allowing them to prep you for your scheduled cesarean.

“So,” She pressed her hands together, offering up a smile, one that made Shuri snarl, and she braced herself for your scolding. “Do we have any questions before you're wheeled back to the OR?”

Shuri looked at her wife, whose face displayed a twinge of sadness, and it was immediate — her comprehension of your impending question. Those were not words the Princess intended to have graze her ears, so Shuri chose to zone out.

It was only the beeping of machines and devices that pulled her back to reality. There were shouts, orders being given, and hospital personnel floating in and out of the room. Instinctively, she flew to your bedside, reaching for your hand.

“Someone please tell me what the fuck is going on! Right now!” And if Shuri weren't so caught up in her yelling, she would have noticed your wince at the boom of her voice. Your fear she picked up on, your spiking heartbeat too, and she placed her palm on your jumping chest, staring deeply into wild eyes that called to her in their time of need.

“Shuri?! Shuri…”

She kissed your face, diving immediately into your coached breathing. “I know, lovely girl, I know. Just breathe with me okay? Breathe.”

All efforts were seemingly useless, and Shuri was on the verge of collapse.

“Baby's heart rate is dropping. Mom’s heart rate and blood pressure are increasing rapidly.” There was a shout of, “Emergency C-Section,” then you were being rolled out of the room and away from her, sporting panicked eyes.

“We're sorry, Princess, but you are not permitted to enter the operating room. But you are welcome to wait here.”

Words Shuri refused to listen to, warnings that would go unheeded. She’d promised to be by your side, yet here she was, on the other side of locked doors, breaking that promise.

Hadn't she let you down enough? Shuri hadn't supported your desire to have this baby, not entirely, she reminisced on the half truths she spun as she sat, knees to her chest on the floor as she whimpered. She only wished to be with you when you needed her most.

If she wanted, she could break the doors down, demand to see you, demand to aid you, but she knew you wouldn't support this, and it was not her plan to disappoint you anymore than she already had. So she allowed the familiar thrum of the heart she loved so wholly to center her; if she couldn't be near you, your abnormal rhythm would suffice.

“Come, child. Let me hold you.” Ramonda pulled her daughter into her lap, cradling her similarly to when Shuri was just a baby with a kiss to her head as they both sat on the freezing floor, and Shuri released a wet exhale at the feel of Nakia’s comforting palm smoothing over her back.

•••

“It's been over seventy-seven minutes, why haven't they finished?” Shuri had indeed counted the minutes in her mind as she waited, it became her only sense of tranquility.

Her mother sighed beside her, but the action only served as an irritant, because it was indicative of the woman's lack of an adequate response. “Shuri, please hold to your patience right now. It's what she would want. Your wife is a fighter.”

She rolled her eyes at this, an act the River Tribe native perched across from her noticed and admonished, but Shuri couldn't bring herself to care. All her care laid with you.

“Your mother is right, you know, patience is a virtue. And your wife knows this, she respects this,” She offered up a small smirk. “Mostly.”

“I don't care about patience, I care about my wife!” Shuri shot to her feet, needing to flail in frustration because the ticking of endless time was beginning to drown her.

“My child I do not know what outcome this–”

She shushed her mother, inching closer to the doors separating her from her wife, terror banging against her heaving chest like a drum. “I can't…”

Shuri's actions caused Nakia to glance at the Queen, and they stood, mirroring Shuri’s slow strides. “Shuri?”

She tilted her head, sticking out a finger hauntingly to quiet Nakia’s speech.

“I can't hear… I-I c-can't hear her h-heartbeat…”

Silence befell the two women, just as the bleak wave realization rode in on arrived. Previously, Shuri had tuned out every beep, every zip, every sound behind the doors that wasn't you: your weak inhales, they were faint, but they existed. And of course, the pumping inside your sternum. But now, she heard neither.

Shuri’s vision blurred. Her feet marched. Her fists were balling, and her mother screamed her name from her rear, but that ceased to matter.

The opaque glass doors to the operating room shattered dramatically, startling the doctors, and nurses, and technicians hurrying around the room, but Shuri didn't care. Her eyes found your body on the bed, and she swallowed a whimper. No one held her back; they couldn't, but ultimately they didn't have to because Shuri froze.

You looked as though you were sleeping, you were sleeping. That's what she told herself. Because accepting anything else was not an option for the Princess.

But Shuri had laid awake watching you sleep on too many occasions to allow herself the luxury of believing it was only slumber that took you now. She'd memorized the pattern of your breathing as you dreamt, a pattern that existed no longer.

You remained still; devoid of color, devoid of life. Your heart was not alive, your chest did not rise, and without a rise, there would be no fall. Except, there was a fall — Shuri's fall. She was unaware she’d been tumbling until her knees hit the floor, and when two pairs of arms engulfed her, she screeched.

•••

A broken soul made no noise. Shuri made no noise, as she sat, unmoving in her wife's empty hospital room. Numbness offered her a hand and she reached desperately for it in the darkness, allowing a blanket of apathy to swaddle her.

It was better this way, she thought, better to not feel. If the Princess allowed herself to succumb to feelings, the entire world would sooner know her agony. This was her best option.

She befriended Silence as she sat, the spirit offered little comfort, but the absence of sound was a necessity.

It lasted only so long though, and Shuri sighed, preparing for the disturbance before it even reached the door. “Shuri.”

“Ndiyeke.” (leave me alone)

Nakia disregarded this, stepping into the room fully, but never leaving the doorway, and the Princess winced at the sound of soft coos. “Shuri there's someone who–”

“Leave. And take that thing with you as well.” She didn't have to look up to know her words sliced deep; She intended to make Nakia feel just a sliver of the hurt she'd been avoiding.

“Surely you don't mean that. Your dau–”

“Yisuse kum lento.” (get it away from me)

There were no more words to be had between the pair, Shuri’s knife slashed through bone, burying itself deep within Nakia’s being, and she nodded, leaving the Princess to float on her high of comforting numbness.

•••

Most nights, the sound of a crying infant rang throughout the palace, but never had Shuri peeled herself from your side of the bed to check on the baby. The Princess lay on her side, curled in a ball as she inhaled the smell of your pillowcase. There was little intrigue on her end when it came to the child, she found there was nothing they held in common.

It hadn't known you, it may have come from you, but it did not know you, not in the way she did. You were hers. It hadn't loved you as she did. This loss was hers alone, and the Princess found the child’s screams to be unwarranted.

Perhaps there was room to bond over the sleeplessness they both shared, because Shuri too laid awake most nights. Rarely did the Princess leave her bed, rarely did she interact with others, and there’d been no recollection on when she'd last seen the Sun. She’d taken to feeling though, and just as she'd predicted, those around her suffered. The child suffered.

She sighed when wails morphed into coos, letting her eyes flicker shut so she could shed a silent tear.

Tonight was not like most nights. There was movement in the young royal’s bed chambers, toes plunged into carpet, and lean legs propelled Shuri forward. They followed the babbling, stopping short as she approached the nursery the two of you decorated mere months ago. Her feet did not cross the threshold though, and she stood there, fingers fiddling and pulling on the hem of your favorite t-shirt.

“Precious, precious girl. You have your mama's eyes, yes you do!” Shuri watched as Nakia poked the baby's tummy and she shuddered at the sight of it smiling.

She let her head hit the frame as she stood there: silent, unmoving, watching. “How do you do it?”

“Shuri!” Nakia jumped, clearly unprepared to hear her voice. The Princess startled even herself with her words; it’d been days since she’d last spoken, to herself or to anyone. Her throat remained raw from her silent sobbing, and she was reminded immediately as the last word left her lips.

She settled onto the floor, criss-crossing her legs, allowing your shirt to cover her knees. “How did you find it in you to go on after the loss of my brother?”

Nakia placed the baby back into its crib, then she stooped down, sitting directly across from the forlorn Princess. She wanted to offer comfort, but she was hesitant to reach out and touch. “Oh… Shuri.”

“I wanted to burn the world in his name, and I nearly did. But now I feel as though it is I who the world has set ablaze. Losing her, i-it…” Tears evaded Shuri now, but she felt no such luck when it came to hurt.

She shut her eyes, allowing her cells to sizzle under the breeze that was Nakia’s words. “When I lost your brother, I did what you are doing. I recoiled, I broke. I was prepared for his death, but no amount of preparation could ever do away with the anguish that comes along with losing the one you love. But I also found the strength to put myself back together again, for my son.”

“I don't think that's something I can do. I want to remain broken, I want to feel the pain of her loss forever. It's only fair.” Shuri’s knees were pressed to her chest now, and she pulled away from the helping hand being offered to her.

“You don't mean that, Shuri. Your dau–”

“I do!”

A sad smile formed on Nakia’s lips, one Shuri read as pity. There had been a time where Shuri wore her own version of pity proudly, where she let herself revel in how pathetically entranced with you she was. She almost smiled at the thought of it, but no longer did that feeling exist.

“Neglecting your daughter will not help fill the hole felt from her loss, Princess. Forcing yourself to hurt will never ease your mind.”

“You think I have to force myself to hurt? You don't think this pain comes naturally to me?”

Nakia shook her head, “That is not what I meant, Shuri, you know that.”

Soft babbling tugged on Shuri's attention, and she craned her neck to the handcrafted crib housing the little one. “I'm afraid I will resent the child forever if I were to hold it, and the thought of disappointing my love in this way is terrifying.”

“Your daughter wants to know her mama, Shuri, she grows curious about the other presence here each day.”

Curiosity brimming in a body that tiny, this piqued Shuri’s interest. She knew curiosity well, curiosity led her to you. “How do I know I will be an adequate mother? How do I know I can raise a child, give it– her the proper guidance?”

“Your wife made a choice. One that she felt was best for her and her baby. You too, have choices. You can choose to respect her choice, you can also choose to love your daughter. She's already chosen you.” This produced a sad smile from the Princess, as she reminisced on some of the first words you’d said to her.

“But that's the easy part,” Nakia continued, squeezing Shuri's knee playfully. “Because she is easy to love. Come.”

The two women rose, and Shuri exhaled deeply as she stepped over the threshold. Her indignation, she left on the other side of the door, inching slowly toward the baby, and immediately, there was a smile from the child.

“Oh, that's her biggest one yet.”

Shuri huffed a laugh. Emotions swirled inside her as she gaped at this beauty harboring your starry eyes. Eyes she thought she'd lost forever, but here they were, peering back at her, calling out to her as yours did. The baby wore your face as though it were her own, and it was then that Shuri broke.

Slowly, she reached for the baby girl, her baby girl, cradling her gently, supporting her head lovingly. Shuri let a sob slip as she held her daughter, then a chuckle because you’d been right. Choosing to love this small child coated in your complexion came with no challenge, just as loving you came with no challenge. This hadn't been the life she pictured for herself, but Shuri knew the only constant life carried with it was change.

#shuri x reader #shuri x black!fem reader #shuri x plus size!reader #shuri x fem!reader #shuri x y/n #shuri x f!reader #shuri x black!reader #shuri angst #shuri udaku #myworks #black panther #wakanda forever #sorry y'all #letitia wright #shuri black panther #lyricswriting

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sookiesookie · 1 year

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swim good₊˚.༄ shuri udaku pt.1

titled inspired by “swim good” by frank ocean

paring: shuri udaku x blk fem! reader

summary: (a cliche) in sitcom-like fashion, an unathletic shuri udaku attempts to join the swim team to impress a girl she likes.

part summary: shuri is smitten and her lovesick ass gets into trouble.

word count: 2.5k

content will include: third person story-telling + reader goes by all pronouns, nerd!shuri, pining!shuri, athlete stem!reader, reader is aware of shuri’s efforts and finds it adorable, the reader is a huge tease, reader’s a flirt but they’re rlly sweet too, reader is shorter than shuri but stronger, college au, swim sports au, peter parker and friends cameo as her lil nerd group (???), shuriri are besties and dormates, swim teacher!namor, t’challa is alive and he’s the wrestling team coach :’), wrestling team co-coach!m’baku, fencing teacher!okoye mentioned, literature teacher!nakia mentioned, shuri’s hair is the short coily undercut in this story, I refer shuri by like six diff nicknames for fun bc it’s funny and we having fun, by “purple-clad” shuri I mean purple flannel and not the tracksuit, y’know, bc she’s a nerd /hj, I call them teens bc they’re still eightTEEN and nighTEEN, a good chunk of the story is just the other characters dogging on shuri for her sitcom ahh decisions and lines lmao, lots of banter, sitcom-like corniness and humor, sexual jokes but not rlly any content, some tension tho, pretty much fluff, just a lil fun🤷🏾‍♂️

a/n: i didn’t know whether to make this a college au or high school au bc technically I’m bout to leave high school but I’m also not in college yet so idk what id get right or wrong sooooo I’mma play it safe and go freshmen in college???

tags: @bellaallebbella1 for the dt @pinkwright @inmyheadimobsessed @zayswriting @generallysapphic bc they’re the pioneers and my favs fr, and @vampzxi cuz it’s lowkey inspired the shuri high school headcannons even tho it’s not rlly even close but shoutout fr

alsooooo since just getting back into writing like this outside of school direction and im not used to writing a straight shot one shot, this gon be multiple parts IM SAWRIIIIIIIIII, it’s only 2 parts tho

AGAIN THIS IS MY FIRST FF IN A WHILE AND I DIDNT HAVE ANYONE PROOFREAD IM SAWRI IF THE PACING OR THE PLOT COMES OFF INCOHERENT😭😭

[MONDAY AFTERNOON]

Her smooth silk brown skin glistens

under the sunlit illuminated windows

as the water trickles

down her broad shoulders

to her god-crafted muscles,

flexing with every step they take

ever

slightly

out the pool.

Their chest heaving,

a slightly tired

yet heavy gaze

as they skim around the room at their peers,

eyes landing on one particular figure

with a similar look in their eye.

Her stoic demeanor is slowly replaced

with a playful smirk as she eyes...

wait…

SHE’S LOOKING AT ME-

SHIT!

Shuri snaps out of her internal monologue, jumping from the huge glass that peered into the school’s aquatic center, and quickly bolts through the double doors that lead to the hallway. When she’s out of sight, she slumps over, catching her breath. “Wow, Ms. Nakia would have either granted me an A+ or sent me to the principal’s office with the type of words I was thinking,” Shuri chuckles to herself.

After a brief pause at her words, her face heats up as she quickly facepalms in shame.

“What the hell am I saying?”

Reluctant, she trudges down the hall in embarrassment, making her way to the place she considered her third home: the science building computer lab (her second home was chemistry lab 2b).

In there resides Peter Parker and Ned Leeds, sitting around a desktop clicking away at some first-person shooter game, with an unwavering MJ Watson sitting a couple of seats away from the boisterous boys, head in a book per the usual. All three teens lined up in typical geeky fashion. Shuri slumps her book bag over a computer table, the sudden noise breaking the immersion of the boys who then looked up from their game, spotting the presence of their purple-clad friend.

“Dude, what have you been doing all this time?” Ned scowls. “We didn’t have any clubs today and we’ve been waiting for you for the past twenty minutes to walk to that new milk tea cafe MJ’s been telling us about.”

Not lifting her head from her book, MJ snarkily remarks, “She’s probably been too busy ogling the crap out of that poor girl over at the aqua center.”

Shuri’s face heats up as she’s quick to defend herself. “Cut it out! Of course I wasn’t!”

MJ smirks, still not looking up from her book. “Sorry, lemme rephrase that better: she’s probably been too busy eye fucking the crap out of that poor girl over at the aqua center.” Blood rushes through Shuri’s cheeks as she sputters incompressible excuses from her mouth, MJ giggling at her discomposure from her book.

“You’re such a mess, Shuri! When are you gonna finally buckle down and rizz her up– or at least go up and talk to the girl instead of borderline stalking her almost every afternoon?” Peter playfully pokes the purple-clad.

Shuri sucks her teeth, swatting him away. “One: the word ‘rizz’ sounds extremely uncanny coming out of your mouth. Please refrain from using that word around me again.”

Collective snorts bounce off the embarrassed white teen whose shit-eating grin twists into a poker face.

“Two: I don’t eye Y/N almost every afternoon.” Shuri pshaws and waves everyone off.

“Oh, my bad!'' Peter dramatically gasps, slapping a hand over his chest. “It’s every morning, lunch break, assembly, dinner break, class transition, and EVERY afternoon.” Collective snickers break out as Shuri backhands Peter, not harshly, but hard enough to derive a strained “ack!” out of him.

“But seriously, Shuri, it’s about time you try and get this girl’s number.” MJ goes on, finally looking up from her book and putting it on the table spine up. “It’s no use for you to keep on hopelessly pining after this girl from afar and not putting in the effort to actually pursue her.” Shuri slumps into a chair and releases an exasperated sigh.

“I do, but what would a versatile and talented girl want with a one-trick pony nerd like me?” MJ visibly cringes at the purple-clad’s words. “Ewww man, this isn’t the 80s! We are NOT living in a Disney Channel sitcom. There’s a lot of people would go for somebody as smart and intelligent as you, you know that.”

“Yeah, maybe to do their homework for them,” Shuri retorts. MJ pauses. “Hmmm, now that claim, I won’t completely disagree with...” “MJ!” Ned dramatically gasps as he lightly slaps MJ on the shoulder.

“Don’t listen to her, Shuri. You are perfectly capable of winning Y/N over just the way you are.”

The purple-clad snickers. “Now THAT was something you could’ve sworn was straight out of a Disney Channel sitcom.”

About 15 minutes later, the eccentric group of teens close up the computer lab and continue down the hallways with milk tea on their minds… except for Shuri. She trails behind the bunch, head hung low, peeping at Y/N’s Instagram.

As her walking gets slower as she’s gaping at her phone, the coil-haired nerd brushes her shoulder against what she thinks is just a wall. She lifts her head to notice the shorter, dark, and gorgeous swimmer— the same one on her phone that she still had in open view.

“Oh! Whassup, Miss Shuri!” Y/N’s eyes light up as he greets the taller.

Shuri’s breath hitches at the lovely emphasis put on her name, blood running cold as she quickly checks her peripheral to make sure the gang wasn’t around to humiliate her more than she already was.

Meanwhile, the teens heard what was going on behind them, but chose to continue on their merry way, intentionally leaving the two alone in the middle of the hallway.

She looks back at the short athlete and returns the greeting with a bashful smile. “What brings you here, Y/N?” The nerd quickly asks in a desperate attempt to carry the conversation, forgetting that people don’t need a reason to just roam the halls, something she mentally facepalms herself for right after.

“Nothin’ much,” Y/N chuckles at Shuri’s nervous efforts. “I’m just coming out of my swim practice. Mr. Namor was runnin’ me dry today.”

The athlete pauses as if she’s recalling something, the corners of her mouth slowly curling into a knowing smirk.

“I saw you peeping me over at the center earlier,” she drawls, “figured you wanted to speak to me about somethin’?” The athlete’s tongue subtly swipes across her bottom lip, as she gazes up at Shuri with a particular look in her eye, irises occasionally shifting down to the open Instagram page still on her phone, waiting for an excuse.

It was enough for the poor nerd to melt into a puddle, knees buckle and collapse, and lay sprawled across the hallway floor right then and there, but luckily for her, she still possessed a pinch of dignity left within her. With fleeting composure, gripping her backpack strap with strain, Shuri gives a weak pshaw.

“Me? I was just passing by! I just really like watching the team…”

You…

“...practice.”

As Shuri desperately attempts to form more words that can potentially save her, her eyes flicker to a *very convenient* bulletin board behind the shorter athlete. There, plastered on the brown surface was a poster: “CALLING FOR NEW MEMBERS! Swim Team Tryouts This Thursday at 5 pm! Swim Your Way To Success!”

Oh, Bast…

“In fact, I’m thinking of trying out for the swim team myself,” the nerd straightens up and states proudly, hoping she masked the way she winced at her words.

Y/N, who was expecting a different answer, gapes at the helpless girl in slight shock. “Oh, for real? That’s crazy! I never pegged you as a swimmer, Shuri.”

The nerd’s mouth forms a goofy grin. “And why is that?” She dramatically slaps a hand on her chest. “Is it because I’m of the darker persuasion?”

This derives a hearty cackle out of the shorter athlete, Shuri’s stomach fluttering from the fact that she made the girl laugh.

“Negro, please,” Y/N catches his breath and straightens up. “It’s because… I mean…” The shorter athlete trails off, eyeing Shuri up and down, the nerd’s cheeks heating up in the act.

“You know what? Nevermind. I can’t blame you for wanting to try. Hell, I’ve been swimming since 4 years old, the feeling’s exhilarating.” Y/N sighs off into the distance, as Shuri internally gushes at the shorter athlete’s passion.

Suddenly she snaps out of her trance and backtracks on the words of the other girl.

“Can’t blame me for wanting to ‘try’? Are you still assuming I can’t swim?”

Y/N waves his hands in defense. “No! I’m just saying–”

“Well I’m GOING to try out, I’m GOING to swim like a pro, and I’m GOING to get on the team!”

After a brief pause at her sudden outburst of competitiveness, Shuri reels it back in with a small “...respectfully,” and a cheeky smile.

Amused at the nerd’s sudden wave of confidence, Y/N clasps their hands together in accord. “Sounds like a plan then! I guess I’ll be seeing you Thursday then.” The shorter athlete readjusts the duffle bag strap on her shoulder and starts to walk closer to Shuri, laying an encouraging, yet, knowing hand on the taller’s shoulder, and leans into her ear.

Shuri could have sworn she was imagining what was rasped next.

“Word of advice: work on that backstroke… I know I will.”

Y/N then pulls away with an innocent grin and brushes past the appalled nerd, continuing on their merry way, but to suddenly turn around to yell one last thing:

“And your phone’s still on!”

Frozen in place, the girl slowly peers down to her cellular (one she made the mistake of changing the display settings to go into sleep mode after 5 minutes) still on Y/N’s Instagram page.

Once the athlete was out of sight, Shuri’s knees buckled as she grips the nearest wall, releasing a sigh of relief, quickly washed over with a wave of anxiousness.

What have I got myself into?

“Y’know a backstroke is a type of swim move, right?”

Riri chuckles at Shuri as she clicks away on her calculator, doing her homework on her bed. The young prodigy lifts her face from it being buried in her pillow and whines.

“But she said it so… sultry like… and her voice was so… raspy… it felt INTENTIONAL!”

“Or maybe your horny ass misconstrued her words and heard ‘backshots’ instead of ‘backstrokes’!” Riri giggled as Shuri proceeded to throw a pillow at the girl.

“Regardless, either word could be used as an innuendo, she did it on purpose,” Shuri retorts.

“Okay, okay, whatever. Sooo, what are you gonna do?”

Shuri flops back on her bed with a sigh. “I will try out for the swim team, like I said I would. I mean, she sounded so intrigued when I mentioned I was interested, and the passion in the way she speaks about it— I should at LEAST try.”

“Aww, I guess that’s fair,” Riri begins to coo. “If you knew how to swim.”

“Huh?”

“Shuri, I have never seen you TOUCH water unless it was for drinking or an experiment, let alone be EMERGED in water outside of taking showers and baths in it. We’ve had campus water activities and pool days before and each time you’ve said ‘I’m busy, I’m busy.’”

“Well I was, you know I have school work as my top priority.”

“We have them during school breaks, Shuri, you don’t work on a school break!”

Riri releases an exasperated sigh. “Shuri, can you swim or not?” The prodigy gives her friend a hesitant look. “I mean, I’m not the worst at it…”

“Shuri, just say you’re shit at swimming.”

“Fucking hate it.” Shuri blurts out. “Haven’t stepped foot into a pool since I was 6.”

“Damn it, Shuri!”

“You wanted me to be honest!”

Riri chuckles in disbelief, shaking her head. “That’s not even it, Shuri! Swim team try-outs are on Thursday, that’s in THREE DAYS! You barely know how to swim, what makes you think you’ll be ready within the next three days?”

“I’ll figure it out, okay?” Shuri stresses, trying to calm herself down. “I mean, you seem to know how to swim. Why don’t you teach me?”

“One: you dug this silly lil’ hole yourself,” Riri wags her finger at the prodigy, “I’m not helping you with shit. The most I’ll do is braid your hair back the night before so it can fit better in the swim cap you’ll have to put on. Two: I couldn’t teach you even if I wanted to because I wouldn’t have time, I’m stacked up on homework for the next few days.”

Shuri groans in her pillow, flopping back down on her bed once again. The young prodigy felt hopeless with no more ideas left… except for one last hope.

“No.”

“C’mon, brother! This is my love life on the line!”

T’Challa chuckles, crossing his arms. “You got yourself into this mess when you knew you couldn’t swim.” He raises is hands in defense. “You have a death wish, I am not helping you.”

“But that’s what Riri said!” Shuri whines.

“Well Riri is a good friend, keep her around. As for me, I have a gym to organize so I am going to continue what I was doing.” T’Challa does just that as he starts to pick up idle weights off the floor.

“I’ll pay you!”

“I have a job, and you’re a broke college student.”

“But with an internship!”

“An unpaid internship.”

“I’ll be your very best friend!”

“I’m your brother, and I already have plenty of friends.”

“Oh, like that old brute that works alongside you?”

“I heard that, you oversized midget!” A snarky coach M’baku scowls from the connected office.

“I’m 5’5!”

“And I’m 6’5, midget!”

Shuri rolls her eyes waves him off. “You work with that oversized man baby,” she sneers to T’Challa.

The older chuckles as he continues to tune out his sister’s persuasions while he tidies around the ring.

“Brother, please!” Shuri drops to her knees dramatically, rubbing her hands together in impatience. “I’m becoming desperate, I REALLY need your help!”

The younger continues to plead as the older man begins to cringe at the pathetic display, checking his peripheral to make sure she wasn’t causing a scene for unwarranted pedestrians that may walk past the gym.

“Okay okay, I will help you! Just stand up, PLEASE! You’re embarrassing me!” T’Challa quickly reassures the girl on the ground.

Shuri’s pleas quickly halt as she jumps to her feet, showering her brother with “thank you”s.

“Ahh, don’t thank me yet,” the older waves the girl off. “And I’m only going to be RE teaching you the basics. Any extra stunts you want to pull for your little girlfriend besides that will be on your accord.”

“Deal,” Shuri clasps her hands together.

“Now will you please leave me be? I have a gym to attend to.”

“Whatever,” Shuri remarks as she starts to head for the exit, “But just know I will be at the gym pool, bright eyed and bushy tailed tomorrow morning!”

The girl slaps the doorway wall and points at her brother, who both chuckles and cringes at her enthusiasm.

Once the bubbly teen was out of sight, M’baku wheels himself to the office doorway in his rolling chair.

“You know she’s going to drown herself.”

A reluctant T’Challa sighs. “Yep.”

To be continued headass…