#if i come back with art later just know i didn't get ANY moon map stuff done

[keeps-ache]

this is really how i'm making decisions nowadays, huh?

[iliketowrite1996]

Dear Lover

Loosely Based on ‘’Dear Lover’’ by Little mix. Inspired by @starsshines-blog     story and our conversation about Little Mix.

TRIGGER WARNINGS- Sexual themes but not explicit,  unrequited love, friends with benefits relationships, insecurities, emotional unavailability, secrets, heartbreak

THIS is my first time writing something like this so constructive feedback is welcome! I will proofread later.

   The bodies on the dance floor move in rhythm with the music, the bass making the entire floor thud against you. The bodies are pressed together, moving in time and swaying to the words as the singer on the stage croons a sultry, seductive song.

   This is a scene that is familiar to you wherever you go. You love to travel see new places, see new faces. Thankfully, your job as a traveling writer allows you to do so. You get to try new foods, meet new people. And go to fun and exciting events. The world is your oyster, and you are not tied down.

   But you always return to one place when you have free time: Wakanda.

   The culture, the people, the life. It’s so beautiful. You’ve been fascinated with places outside of Wakanda ever since you toddled over to a map of the World when you were three.

   Now, you get to make the world you’re home. Every day is a new adventure.

   Yet, you always find yourself traveling back to Wakanda for two reasons- your family, and him.

   He’s home in every way- warm, inviting, lovely.

   He’s smart, handsome, kind, and, strong. He calculates everything, looks before he jumps, but dives in when he’s committed.

   You are smart, beautiful, kind,and strong. You love to dive right in, see new things, explore [possibilities.

   Opposites attract, and you two are magnets.

   He is T’Challa Udaku, the Prince of Wakanda.

   You are Y/N, journalist and photographer and blogger.

   So how exactly did our life become a high-rated  made-for-television movie?

   You’d met in high school, and clicked instantly. He was there for you when you got your first boyfriend and got broken up with. You were there for him when Nakia left him right before college. He was there for you when you didn't’ get into your first choice university. You were there for him when the pressures of being a prince weighed down heavily on him.

   You new three things that would comfort him- your words, your embrace, and your lips.

   He was your first kiss, you were his. He was the first guy you ever fell in love with, but kept it under wraps like the secret that it still is. You’d tease him endlessly, avoiding the real issue at hand- how were you in love with the future king of Wakanda?

How. did the girl who couldn't’ imagine putting down roots fall for the man who will be the most rooted individual in Wakana as he becomes king?

It’s something that you’ve held onto. You wouldn’t say that you have a friends-with-benefits relationship- you make out a lot, you’re on the cusp of boyfriend and girlfriend physically. But that’s all it’s ever been- physical.

   You two haven’t actually slept together- there was just kissing, a lot of heavy petting and a lot of talking. It’s just a friendship. He calls you, or vice versa, and there it is. But that’s all it can ever be.

   At least on his end.

   It’s a secret. Hell, you tried to hide it from yourself that you're in love with him. You pushed it away, told yourself that, no, you are in love with the attention. But when that attention shifted to Nakia, then other women, you found that you still craved him.

   You feel a connection towards him, and it is more than just physical attraction. He is your lover in nearly every sense of the word- he is your best friend, your confidant, your equal. He treats you like a lady, never an option.you knew what this was when you first kissed him telling him you just wanted someone to make out with.

   You knew he was lonely, that you were numbing the piece of him that still ached for Nakia. He never left that wound alone, poking and prodding it over and over again. The way you would roll your tongue over the spot where you lost your tooth when you were younger? That’s him with Nakia. He keeps making the same mistakes, pining for a woman that has found her calling outside of Wakanda.

   That makes you feel like a hypocrite, and your bitter mood is in sharp contrast with your sweet drink.

   How very dare you want him for yourself when you don’t even want to be in Wakanda? Who do you think you are?

   Well, you’re Y/N Y/L/N , and the heart wants what it wants. Your heart just happens to want T’Challa Udaku, son of T’Chaka Udaku. Your heart wants your best friend, the Prince of Wakanda, your best friend.

   Your heart wants your lover.

   You down the rest of your drink, tip the bartender, pull your purse over your shoulder, and head out.

   The rain is beginning to come down when you climb onto T’Challa’s balcony.

   ‘’One of these days, Okoye or Ayo is going to discover me. You’re gonna be sorry when they do. No kisses for you.’’

   ‘’It is good to see you, too, Y/N,’’ he chuckles, helping you up, ‘’Especially when you bring my favorite pizza and wine. Although I would appreciate if I didn’t have to find out that you are back in town from Shuri or my mother. I thought that we we were...close enough for you to tell me anything.’’

   You ignore the implication of his words, willing yourself not to blush under the glow of the moon.

   ‘’I knew you’d text me essentially. So I went to see my family and then went dancing. And of course I brought you pizza and wine. Only the best for you, my prince.’’

   ‘’Stop that. Come on in,’’ he opens the door, sets the pizza on his bed and opens it, ‘’Ugh. It is so cheesy.’’

   ‘’Just like your jokes.’’

   ‘’Did I do something to you? Why must you tease me,’’ he questions, a smo;e playing at his full lips.

   ‘’You tease me all of the time.’’ you purr, the double meaning of your words heavy in them.

   ‘’You do the same to me. Now, are you going to come eat this pizza with me? Or do I have to finish this by myself?’’

   ‘’Save some for me, my prince.’’

   You lounged across T’Challa’s bed with him chewing on the pizza in silence.

   ‘’Adede and I broke up.’’

   That’s the first thing that he’s said to you in fifteen minutes.

   ‘’Oh?’’

   ‘’Yes. Today. And it’s weird, because I don’t feel what I did when Nakia broke up with me.’’

   There he goes again. Nakia this. Nakia that.

   Not that you don’t like her as a person. She doesn’t have a mean bone in her body. She is fierce and strong, kind and smart. She’s who you’d want for T’Challa if you didn’t want him so bad. You don’t despise her, just the fact that she always had what you wanted: T’Challa’s affection.

   ‘’Well, I don’t think you liked her, T'Challa. I think you just liked the attention that dating her brought’’ you turn the sealed wine bottle in your hand, ‘’She deserved better than that. So did you. You’re trying to fill the void left by Nakia.’’

   He kisses his teeth then, lolling his head back so that it is resting in your lap, ‘’I guess you’re right. That was wrong.’’

   It makes you wonder what you’re doing here, then. Because you know what your relationship is- that he doesn’t see you in any real way. That you’re gonna hurt all over again when he attends another social event outside of Wakanda with another ‘’eligible bachelorette’’. That he’s not gonna let things work out with her, because he’s not over Nakia, That you’ll get another call when you’re in town. That this secret ‘’relationship’’ will continue, stolen moments and kisses and conversations behind closed doors. And it hurts, because every time you see him you hurt a little more.

   ‘’Come here,’’ you crook a finger toward shim, discarding the now empty pizza box.

   He crawls into the bed then, snuggling closer to you, head on your shoulder.

   He craves attention from someone, and you’re here.

   You want affection, and he’s here.

   You're tiptoeing on a strange line, dancing with danger and flirting with a man who’s definitely no stranger to you. He was your first, you were his. You know him inside and out and he knows you. So he is your lover in every way.

   Except officially.

Most of the time, you two talk. You talk, he comforts you or vice versa, and you kiss.

A lot.

‘’I’ve missed you so much,’’ T’Challa breathes out, his breath hot on your neck, ‘’So, so much.’’

   He doesn’t miss you.

   He misses this closeness.

   That’s what you tell yourself as his hands move to your waist rolling you on top of him.

   ‘’Be here for me?,’’ he asks, and you know he doesn't mean for it it sound a selfish as it does. But it stirs something inside of you, and you do your best to push it down.    

   ‘’I really care about you,’’ he continues, and you feel yourself freeze under him.

   You bring your lips back to his, silencing his voice and focusing on the tension between the two of you.

   There’s more to this feeling for you.

   And you know there is for him.

   But you can’t save him. You can’t keep saving his heart. Not when he keeps giving it to girls who are so far beyond not good for him.

   But he’s home tonight. He looks like home tonight. And while you’re reminding yourself this is just casual, you know he means a lot to you. And in a way, you mean a lot to him. When the moment, you will walk away a little bit closer to him

For that reason, you don’t mind playing hero for one more night.

In the morning, you awaken to the sun streaming into T’Challa’s window. It bathes you in it’s golden light, and it makes T’Challa’s skin glow as he sleeps suddenly next to you.

You sigh, deciding to dig further under the covers and into this warmth before you go back to your apartment that you keep for the weeks that you’re back in Wakanda.

‘’Staring is rude, Y/N.’’

‘’People stare at art all of the time, T’Challa.’’

‘’Yes, when they can’t touch it. You can touch me, Y/N.’’

‘’Shhh,’’ you kiss him, enjoying the way his lips move so effortlessly with yours and the light smack when you pull apart, ‘’I have to leave soon.’’

He answers back nonverbally, letting you connect your lips to is again.

He falls asleep again a half hour later, and you slip out of his bed, pulling the clothes he’d let you borrow off and slipping your own back on.

   You’re holding your breath, because you know this is the last time this will be like this.

   And, it is with a heavy heart but a determined mind that you right this next part.

   Dear T’Challa,

   My dear, sweet lover, I can’t keep saving you. I can barely help myself. I’m in love with you, and I know you know it.  And you didn’t do anything wrong. I fell in love with you despite setting the boundaries. And I don’t want to be rooted down. I also can’t act like it doesn’t hurt me when I see you with other women. Please, be with someone that values. That would take care of you the way I did. And please, please don’t hate me for leaving without  a proper goodbye. This is best for all that’s involved. I kept trying to convince myself that there was more to this feeling. I promise, I wish there was. But thank you for the moments that we did have, because memories like that won’t ever leave me. This is as hard as it is necessary. Please believe that, T’Challa. This is it. We can be friends, but nothing more than that. Please.

   Sincerely,

   Y/N.

   And it is for the best.

   That’s what you tell yourself as you board a plane a week later,having ignored all of T’Challa’s phone calls.

   You need to get over this, and you will.

   And you have a year later, when you’re taking pictures of an event in New York City and staying in an apartment. Your friend would be for the length that you’d be there, and he’s letting you stay in his cozy, studio apartment. It beats the cost of a hotel, and you know where everything is.

   You’re comfortable. It’s been almost six months since you’ve spoken to T’Challa. It’s been five months since he’s become king. And you know that he’s probably moved on, probably gotten back with Nakia, but it’s cool. Someday, you’ll look back on those memories with fondness and not longing. You love him, but you also love you.

You hold onto that thought for six more years, when you’re not speaking to T’Challa. You see him on the news, hear about press conferences and such, wonder how he is. If you should call.

Then decide not to, because you’ve both moved on.

You believe that until he’s at your doorstep exactly six years from the day you ended things with him.

‘’T’Challa? W-what are you doing here?’’

   ‘’Can I please come in? I… I really need to talk to you.’’

   You hesitate, but let him hin.

   And you talk.

   And talk.

   And talk.

   ‘’So what is this? Why are you here?’’

   ‘’I’m not saying I want you to just drop everything and come back to me. I’m saying that maybe we can try this, For real this time. We’ve both grown up. We’re not who we used to be. ANd I know you’ve dated and had offers from guys that would give you this lifestyle. I can’t promise this. I wish I could but I can’t. All I could do is love you.’’    

   And here is the king of Wakanda, offering you the most precious, immaterial thing that he could give you.    

   You’re doing well. You’ve published two books since you’ve lost spoken to him, settled down a  bit, travel when you aren’t writing. But you did it on your terms, and you know he knows that.

   You’ve seen so many places.

   And you’ve seen so many faces.

   But T’Challa looks like he could be home right now.

   ‘’Y/N,’’ he asks, and you can hear the nervousness tingling his voice the way that the sunset is ringing the sky red, ‘’I could leave if you want. I can give you more time to think.’’

   Time to think. A respite from the way your mind is whirling around.

   ‘’Please. I will let you know my answer at the end of the week then.’’

   T’Challa nods, exiting your house and gracefully and quickly as he entered your life.

   It takes the full week to make your decision.

   You’ve been a lot of places- all round the world. You’ve met new people, but everything comes back to him.

   He looks like home.

   And you had to consider that and weigh it against the cons, and decide what was best for you.

   And you know he’ll understand when you call him to tell him your answer.

   ‘’Y/N,’’ he says after the first ring, ‘’Hello.’’

   ‘’Hello. T’Challa. I’ve, umm… I have made my decision.’’

   ‘’Oh? And what would that be?’’

   That’s the moment when you decide to go home.

   And that decision was well worth the ten years it took to finally be able to make it.

   It’s a year later that you leave another note for T'challa, beginning to much the same way the last note did:

   ‘’Dear T’Challa,

   My dear lover.

   I can’t wait to see you at the altar.

   Love, Y/N.’’

   And as you walk to the altar and see him beaming at you, you can only thing one thing: ‘’He still looks like home.’’

   And that’s enough for you to be glad to seal that letter, and move on to the book that you two are going to write together.

Disclaimer- I do not own Marvel, any of the characters or their fictional worlds. Those belong to rightful and respectful owners. I ALSO DO NOT own Little Mix or any of their songs, they belong to the rightful and respectful owners.

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@airis-paris14 @starsshines-blog @kumkaniudaku