vixentheplanet - Tumblr blog

vixentheplanet · 2 days ago

Text

AHHHHHHHH

More Than I Should {pt. 8}

pairing: riri ✘ black!fem!reader

summary: riri could feel the fragile line of her restraint fraying, dreading the moment it would snap entirely. what happens when it finally does?

word count: 12.1k

contents: smut (18+), fluff, angst, mentions of survivors guilt, jealous!riri (she's down bad), jealous!reader, riri is... nice (?), lots of flirting and hair twirling, riri being riri, confessions

tags: @kisskobii @dejaonline @prettymrswright @vixentheplanet @sapphicvqmpires @astroeliza @uhwhatsay @blackgcomica @6-noir @quintessencewrites @pvnks0ul @fentibeauty @ririshotgf @idkijjustlovethisapp @naijagrl @onyxstones-world @ihearttish @sweetalittleselfish-honey @lyfeofbilly @lvmxih @watchyourmouthorgetslapped @nickirunsrap @animalisticjazz @studpanther1031 @mrsudakuwilliams99 @mariquitaaa @impinkalicious @bluejay2503 @shuririsart @nickirunsrap @mitchesmoon

divider by: @firefly-graphics

note: i had a blast writing this chapter. it's probably my favorite chapter i've written, aside from chapter 3. i love it so much please! i can't wait to hear all the feedback! riri makes me blush ahhh! anyway, hope youse enjoy!! mwah mwah!! <333

↬ series masterlist

“Come on, Ri,” Zariyah purred in that sultry way she did whenever she wanted to get her way. She lounged in the doorway of the en-suite bathroom, steam curling around her bare skin, nipple rings dazzling in the light. Her pose was deliberate, an invitation if Riri had ever received one. “I’ll wash your back. Give you a massage.”

She pushed away from the door, sauntering to the edge of the bed, still in her pursuit, determined as ever now as she'd hoped to coax her lover into the shower with her. “I’ll do that thing you like.”

It was a song Riri recognized all too well. She knew what Zariyah had been offering up, the image of the lust filled act flashing ever so briefly behind her lids. The familiarity of the sensation, elusively tempting. And on any other occasion she'd probably say yes, enthusiastically so. But not tonight. Not after what had happened downstairs. Your likeness alone had rinsed away whatever pull Zariyah’s body might have had.

“No thanks,” She hummed, light enough to pass as playful.

Riy pouted in resignation, muttering something about Riri being a buzzkill, then disappeared into the foggy bathroom.

She was grateful for the quiet, save for the hushed sound of water running against tile, but it wasn't a tough task to tune it all out. Riri rolled onto her back, the mattress sighing beneath her as she let the noise, and the scent of Riy’s floral body wash blur into static.

Her mind drifted back to you with ease, like she had never been interrupted in the first place. She used the constructed solitude to replay the night like a movie in her mind, honing in on her favorite scene.

The moment you kissed her.

You. Kissed. Her.

Like a giddy teen in love, she turned her face into the pillow, biting back the bashful grin threatening to take over. The memory sparked behind her eyes like a flare—your mouth crashing into hers, your body pressed so tightly she could hardly exhale, not that she’d wanted to. The whimper you’d let out when she touched you through your stockings. So wet, so sticky, and all for her. It’d been a thing of dreams before now, you wanting her, needing her, yearning for her. Your mouth, your heat, your hips—all of it affirming everything she’d only dared to hope.

She was high off it. Floating in it, with no plans of coming down.

The shower water still ran in the background, and she could hear Zariyah singing softly to herself as she bathed, a glaring reminder that someone else was here, another person that wanted her. But Riri didn’t care. The body in that bathroom was not the one she craved.

Riri resisted the urge to kick her feet and squeal, already tangled in the thoughts of the next time she would get to taste your tongue again. She could see it clearly, feel your fingers twisting in her shirt, her hair, your mouth moving over hers without hesitation. There would be no need to stop, no walls, no girlfriends, boyfriends, or birthdays pulling you two apart. She would savor it this time, take her time with you.

Her pulse tripped from the imagined sensation, a little rush of nerves sliding through her, but the good kind, the kind that came from wanting something so bad it made your hands itch.

She didn't even hear the water shut off when it did, hadn't noticed the thick clouds of steam billowing out from the bathroom until Zariyah cleared her throat, and Riri was forced to send her attention over to the girl standing across from her. Her red curls were damp, and she leaned against the doorframe, posing like she expected to be devoured on sight.

It was easy to decipher what Zariyah wanted, the routine carved into muscle memory by now—lingering glances, towel dropping to the floor, lips on collarbones, hands gripping skin. But Riri couldn’t summon the desire. Riri saw that hunger pooling in Riy’s eyes, but there was nothing to match it behind her own. Nothing that she could force.

She was sprawled across the king-sized bed, one arm draped across her forehead, the other resting idly against her stomach as she stared up at the ceiling.

“How was your shower?” She asked, her voice easy, like the question was an afterthought.

“Lonely,” Riy drawled as she began a slow, confident strut towards the bed, and Riri couldn't help but cringe the closer she got. “Would've been more fun if you were in there with me.”

Riri huffed out a laugh, eyes flicking over without moving her head. “We would've run up these rich people's water bill if I was in there with you.”

Riy smirked, leaning a knee onto the mattress. “How about we ruin their sheets instead?” She teased, biting her lip as she crawled closer.

Riri shifted slightly but didn’t sit up, her gaze still fixed on some invisible point above her. She already knew she wasn’t doing this tonight. “You gon be mad if I say I’m not in the mood?”

“Mad? No. Annoyed? Yes.” Riy groaned and got up, drying off with lazy swipes of her towel. “Because you fucking suck.”

“I’m sorry, Z,” Riri murmured half-heartedly, “I just… don’t got it in me tonight.”

Not for her anyway. Not when every nerve in her body was still keyed up from you.

Zariyah scoffed, pulling on a pair of panties. “Keem over there getting some pussy, but I can’t? Ain’t that some shit.”

Riri’s entire body went still.

The sheets beneath her turned cold, and she sat up slowly, vision suddenly tunneled. “W-what?”

Riri could tell Zariyah hadn't noticed the way her voice cracked as the word emerged, how wounded she sounded, she was too caught up in her skincare routine, casual as ever.

“I could hear ole girl when I was in the shower. Keem is definitely in that right now.” Riy laughed, still oblivious to the haunted look Riri was now sporting. “Happy birthday to him, I guess.”

The room dimmed. The blood drained from Riri’s face, and she couldn't hear anything else being said, just the pounding of her own heart in her ears. Loud and relentless.

You were with him?

She allowed the covers to swallow her entirely as Zariyah crawled into bed beside her, arm wrapping lazily around her middle. She smelled like eucalyptus and shea butter, and a lie Riri didn’t want to believe. Because how could you? After everything you said? After the way you looked at her like she hung the moon and the stars. After you kissed her like her lips were the only thing that could quell your agony.

After… needing you is like breathing to me.

Her monster stirred awake inside her, slinking out of the dark corner Riri usually banished him to when she was awake. He didn't creep out this time, no, he came full force, climbing right up her chest until he settled heavy in her sternum, his voice ragged and venomous as he whispered directly into her ear with no remorse.

Of course you let him touch you.

Did you really think one silly little kiss from you would be enough?

He sneered his words, and they didn't sound like questions, because she already knew the answer. Deep down she’d always known.

Riri’s eyes stayed open, unblinking against the dark as a single tear bled sideways into her pillow. Zariyah’s slow, even breathing was steady beside her, another cruel reminder that she was sharing a bed with someone she didn’t want, while the one she did want was across the hall, letting her best friend touch and taste what she had just kissed.

Maybe you deserve this.

Who goes after their best friend’s girl and expects a fairytale?

Every word was a nail driven deep into her skull. She knew she’d opened the door wide for him tonight—that kiss was an invitation—it was the key, and now, he could reach her even here, awake, sober, flat on her back in a strange bed.

This was her own doing.

Of course Hakeem was the better option. He didn't live in the shadows of his own mistakes, didn't cower away from a taunting boogeyman who thrived on his pain and fears like she did. Hakeem was good, and pure, he couldn't taint you like she would.

And maybe you saw that too, maybe the kiss made you realize the truth.

She was no good for you, no matter how much she knew you were the best thing for her.

Riri’s throat burned like she'd swallowed glass, and her stomach ached. She'd fallen from the high she’d previously been riding on, plummeted back down to earth where her dream had turned into a twisted, raw reality with shredded pieces and bloody edges.

You tried to take something that wasn’t yours, the monster cooed. Now watch him keep it.

•••

Riri rose before the sun had fully climbed the horizon, not that it mattered though, she'd barely slept through the night. Her mind was a punishing loop, keeping her awake with harrowing, imaginative stills of what you and Hakeem could be doing across the hall. But when the house finally settled into silence, there was no need to imagine anymore.

She heard it—heard you.

The truth traveled to her in the form of hushed moans. Every muffled kiss, every sharp inhale, every soft, broken whimper Hakeem pulled from your throat seeped through the walls. And she forced herself to listen, to endure the pain curling in her chest until the images in her head, and the deafening sounds echoing in her ears knotted themselves into something she knew she’d never be able to untangle.

Beside her, Zariyah's arm was slung heavy over her waist, her breath slow and warm against the back of Riri’s neck. She was careful not to wake her as she shifted, and slid out from beneath the suffocating weight, the sheets whispering against her skin as she slipped free.

The house was quiet, and the sky was still smeared in that soft, gray-blue haze of early morning. She padded down the stairs, the wood cool under her bare feet. Her plan had been simple, caffeine first, thoughts later.

But as soon as she rounded the last step, her body stiffened.

You were there, sitting at the kitchen table, hunched over your phone, a steaming mug in front of you. Your hair was slightly mussed, and you wore only a rumpled t-shirt, one Riri recognized with ease.

It was Hakeem's.

You looked up at her, and Riri felt the air freeze between you, a slow choke settling in her lungs.

Her pulse jumped, and she felt the vibration in her throat, in her fingers. She had no clue what to say, because every possibility felt wrong. You were unaware of her knowledge, about the noises from your room, about Hakeem’s voice carrying low through the walls. And she wasn’t sure if she was ready to hear you lie about it if she inquired.

“You, uh… made coffee?” She questioned, her voice sounding as scratchy as her throat felt.

“Mhmm.” You nodded, gesturing toward the machine on the counter. “Took me a while to figure out how to use it but… uh… yeah.”

Riri shifted past you, resisting the magnetic pull of your perfume that called to her with every step she took. She busied herself with the machine, letting the gurgle of hot water and the sharp hiss of steam fill the silence. The ceramic was warm in her hands when she poured herself a cup, but it didn’t relax the tightness in her shoulders.

When she finally turned back to face you, she opened her mouth, ready to break the stalemate, and she noticed the way your lips parted at the same time, like you’d been working up to it too.

But before either of you could speak, footsteps creaked down the stairs, and Zariyah’s voice cut through the thick air. “That was probably the best sleep of my life,” She sang, still halfway down the steps, hair pulled up, her sweatshirt hanging loose off one shoulder. She looked straight at you, then over to Riri. “Is there more coffee left?”

And just like that, the moment was gone.

The rest of the morning blurred by with the four of you moving through the motions, tidying up the house, restuffing overnight bags, stacking empty cups and plates without much more than the usual small talk. Riri hadn’t found herself alone with you for more than a breath, not long enough for a single real word to pass between you, and she was beginning to believe this was by design.

Perhaps it was your guilt causing you to plaster yourself at your boyfriend’s side, your hand in his, your smile a little too fixed—a version of normal you were performing for the sake of the crowd.

You may have fooled everyone else, but not Riri.

She'd learned you well enough to deduce that you remaining in Hakeem's company for this long was nothing short of abnormal. The avoidance was transparent, tucked messily between the far too casual exchanges and the near-misses when your paths almost crossed but didn’t.

Riri didn't force it though, didn't linger like she usually would. Instead, she chose to observe silently, and take mental notes of the oddities she noticed in your behavior. She took it all on the chin, despite the dull ache blossoming in her chest. Eventually, she slipped outside and into the car, letting the cool air calm her nerves as she waited for the rest of you to pile in. And by the time the last bag thudded into the trunk, her hands were already firm on the wheel, ready to hit the gas the moment someone gave the word.

Zariyah climbed into the passenger seat beside her, and you and Hakeem took the back, naturally falling into each other's space. He slung an arm lazily over your shoulder, your head tilting to rest below his chin.

Riri kept her eyes on the road as she drove, jaw tight and ticking, but every once in a while she caught herself glancing at the rearview, searching for the endless orbs that belonged to you. The angle was enough for her to meet your gaze. It was intended to be a quick lock, nothing that lasted, nothing that lingered. But, as always, she ran into the same lesson she was meant to relearn every time her eyes met yours.

She never wanted to look away, she couldn't look away. It was a tug-of-war with her own body, every fiber protesting, like turning away from you might split her in two. You graced her with a small, fleeting smile before abandoning the moment, and that pesky muscle in her cheek kept on twitching.

When she inevitably pulled up to your apartment building, you and Hakeem hopped out together, thanking her, and saying your goodbyes before strutting off hand in hand. She stayed parked longer than she meant to, idling behind, watching you walk towards the lobby doors. Hakeem leaned in to murmur something in your ear, and Riri watched as you threw your head back, your laugh spilling into the air. To her, it all felt so deliberate, like you were taunting her, pressing her face into it the way you’d scold an unruly animal.

But, was this not to be her punishment?

“We going? I gotta be at work by one,” Zariyah’s voice cut through her haze, making her blink.

“Yeah,” Riri muttered, eyes still trained on you and her best friend until you disappeared inside completely. Her fingers flexed against the steering wheel, and she shifted the car into drive. “Let's go.”

•••

After she dropped Riy off at home, Riri headed straight to the only place she knew would offer solitude.

The garage smelled like hot metal and motor oil upon entry, familiar scents that always grounded her. Riri stood in the center of her equipment for a second, just taking it all in. She was surrounded by the skeleton of her Mark III suit, suspended titanium hanging from hooks, and wiring guts spilled across her worktable. She basked in the quiet. It was different here, all encompassing, but in no way suffocating. It loosened her muscles, de-fogged her brain.

The silence in here didn't demand anything of her—she could just be.

Riri stepped over a stray torque wrench on the floor, weaving between crates of scrap metal and prototype parts until she reached her workbench. She dropped into her chair, and kicked it back with one foot so it would roll into position. The stool squeaked under her as she leaned forward, elbowing a clutter of socket heads and microprocessors to the side so she could set down her laptop.

She lifted the suit’s chest plate onto the table, and dragged her palm across the cool metal, tracing every scratch and scuff embedded into the material with a little smirk playing on her lips. She then spun to grab her welding mask from its hook, and snapped it in place.

Mask down, torch in hand, Riri wasted no time vaulting headfirst into her work. The world had dimmed around her, like it always did when she fell into her element, the hiss of tools drowning everything else out. Sparks flew, bouncing off her forearms in sharp bursts as she welded two plates along the shoulder of her armor, creating clean seams, closed and perfect, like it hadn't been damaged on her last mission at all.

Then, she swapped the torch for her laptop, removing her mask entirely, and powered it on. A flick of her fingers brought the screen to life, along with the AI framework she’d borrowed from Shuri.

Or, at least the guts of it. Riri had stripped Griot all the way down to its raw code, studying the intricacies like they were written scripture. She still wasn’t sure how she’d managed to walk out of Wakanda with it without Shuri noticing, but the silence since then had been telling. If the princess had noticed, she clearly wasn’t losing sleep over it. Then again, Shuri never really lost sleep over much, especially these days.

She shook her head hard, doing away with the image of Shuri in her mind. She wasn't here to daydream about complicated people she had no business wanting—exes included. She was here to work and lose herself in her creations, the most important one being developing her own AI. She wanted something that differed vastly from Griot, something sharper, something that was distinctly hers.

Riri wanted her AI to think with her, not just for her, and that meant mapping the inner workings of her brain, down to the finest signal. She clipped a bundle of wires to a half-built neural interface, connected them to her computer, and then, she taped the opposite ends of the cords to her temple, flinching slightly at the sting of electricity. The processor was humming to life soon after, running initial scans, reading the quickfire synapses and patterns of her brain.

And as she sat there, arms folded as she waited, Riri became a victim of sleep’s undertaking. She hadn't noticed her eyelids growing heavier, hadn't paid attention to the way the gentle vibrations against her skull had begun to lull her. If she had, she would have forced her body to protest, but it was too late. The line between focus and fatigue blurred, and somewhere between a blink and a breath, she drifted under.

The garage dissolved around her, leaving in its place, the sharp, metallic scent of blood in the air. The screech of tires on asphalt. A hollow, ringing silence that came after the screaming stopped. She couldn't recognize Natalie’s laughter anymore, couldn't find her father's voice. That day replayed, merciless in its clarity, every painful, disorienting frame seared into her tendons.

For a moment, she just sat there. Immobile. Unblinking. She wanted to scream, but her throat burned hot, rendering her speechless, and helpless.

She couldn't help them.

She didn't help them.

Shame crept in first, and she knew he wasn't too far behind. Her monster. He didn't seem to be in a rush—he knew the process. The slower he edged in, the messier her mind would be, and the more devastation he had to feast on. He made her do all the work for him, dragging herself through that nightmarish loop, until she was raw enough for him to step in and gorge on what was left.

His voice curled around her, dark and smug like thick smoke.

Building your little toys will never make you forget.

You didn't help them.

You let them die.

His words filled the empty spaces inside her that she couldn't protect, where her doubts thrived, and her self image lived fractured. They hadn't been loud, but boy were they strong, packing a force almost powerful enough to cause her irreparable, internal wreckage.

Do you really think it was fair that you got to survive?

And in the way only he could, he made the grief and the guilt indistinguishable, one long ache she’d carry until he decided she didn’t have to anymore.

What would they say if they knew about your current proclivities? Wanting what isn't yours?

It was then that she jolted awake, attempting to claw herself free from her monster’s thorny grasp. Her chest was heaving, her skin was damp with a cold sweat that made her feel like she took a dive in the deep end and almost drowned.

The essence of the nightmare lasted still. It twisted around her ribs like barbed wire, sharp enough to puncture flesh every time she exhaled.

Her monster lingered too. She could hear the echo of his voice from where he retreated to in the back of her skull. Smug and satisfied he was, leaving her dizzy, her head tilting forward as if the weight of it might topple her.

The sharp beep-beep-beep of her computer aided in yanking her further from the darkness, but not all the way. Her hands still flexed against her thighs, searching for something—anything—to anchor her back in her own body. She swallowed hard, fighting the tremor in her lungs.

And then, in the midst of it all, she found you.

Not here, not physically, but in her mind, you bloomed. Your lips emerged first, the fire-soft press of them against hers, still vivid enough that Riri swore she could taste you if she tried. Your smile was next. That quick, shy curve that destroyed her willfully each time she witnessed it. And your eyes—fuck, your endless eyes—pools of chocolate that seemed to melt just for her, even though you’d probably deny that to be true if she asked.

You hadn't appeared as just a distraction; you were a tether. And she let you lead her out of the nightmare, back into the rhythm of the real world. She felt her pulse begin to slow. Her breathing evened out, and she leaned back in her chair, allowing your lasting essence to soothe her entirely.

You were her center—the one thing that could pull her from the carnage.

Usually, Riri hated how easy it was for you to wreck her equilibrium without even being in the same room, but right now, she was beyond grateful for it as she blinked the world around her back into focus. The garage took shape again, cold concrete floors, the faint whirring of her machines, the sharp tang of burning plastic riding the air.

Her gaze panned down to the source of the acrid scent: her laptop, smoking like an angry tea kettle.

“Shit, shit, shit!” She hissed, yanking the melting wires from her forehead and tossing them aside before shutting the entire system down. The AI attempt was fried—again.

Riri sighed, and sat back, watching as a thin swirl of gray vapor drifted toward the ceiling.

Not her first crash-and-burn, and she knew it wouldn’t be her last, but still, she couldn't pretend she wasn't annoyed. She decided then, that it was time to close up shop.

Hours had passed without her noticing, and when she finally glanced outside, the sky was swallowed by darkness. She was still in a haze when she got up, trying to tidy up the best she could, though, she quite liked her clutter—everything was always where she left them when it became time to find them again. Riri killed the lights, allowing the shadows circling around her to reclaim the corners once more. And then she grabbed her backpack, slinging it over her shoulder as she stepped out into the cool of the night.

The air was sharper outside, the kind that woke you up whether you wanted it to or not, but Riri definitely wanted it to. As she approached her car, she caught her reflection in the tinted window. Her face stared back at her, eyes tired, rimmed red, slight bags forming under them. She exhaled shakily, almost amused at how bad she looked, like her guilt had started painting itself on her skin for everyone to see.

Still, she got in the car, tossed her bag into the back seat, and started the engine. It thrummed to life, filling the previous silence, and with nothing else to focus on as she drove, Riri’s mind wandered where it always went—back to you.

And now, she had something much more than stolen moments in apartment lobbies and libraries to anchor herself to.

A kiss.

A kiss that flipped her world on its axis.

She didn't want to lose that feeling. Despite the shame knotting in her stomach, despite knowing what it meant and who it hurt, she couldn’t sever that connection.

What would Nat think of all this? Something Riri found herself wondering about constantly. She would probably smack her upside the head initially. Tell her how fucked it was to want your best friend’s girl.

She could hear her now.

“Ri are you crazy?! She’s dating your friend? Like in a relationship, dating?! And you tryna fuck on her? I don't know, that's kinda…”

“You need your brain rewired. But then again… this does not surprise me.”

But under it all, Riri knew there’d be understanding there. Nat knew the way the heart bent logic all out of shape sometimes. She was always good for offering sympathy and judgment all in the same breath. The thought made her laugh a little, until her dad’s face appeared in her mind, and she stilled.

His image was heavier, his disappointment more tangible than Nat’s. He would like Hakeem, no doubt. Maybe even love him. And Riri wasn’t ready to touch the weight of that truth. Not yet.

So she went back to you, and she let the memory of your mouth and touch guide her. The streets rolled by without her noticing, block after block after block of blurred streetlights and passing cars, until she blinked and realized where she’d ended up.

Parked outside your apartment, like you’d summoned her directly to you.

•••

Riri sat low in the driver’s seat, hood pulled over her head, one hand drumming on the steering wheel while the other held her phone. The azure glow from the screen painted her face, leaving it as the only part of her body illuminated in the near pitch black of the parking lot, save for the occasional flickering street light overhead.

Her knee was bouncing in rhythm with the car’s engine as she stared at the message she'd typed and sent.

Riri: you up?

You’d read it six minutes ago and counting, with no reply.

Her jaw flexed. Her eyes flicked from the screen to your building, tracing the familiar outline of your bedroom window. Soft yellow light spilled through the glass, mocking her almost. She knew you were awake. She could just picture you in there, barefoot, probably curled up on your bed in a cute little lounge set, scrolling through your phone.

So why weren’t you answering?

She slouched deeper into the seat, staring through her windshield at the building. What the hell was she even doing here? She told herself it wasn’t intentional, she just… ended up here by happenstance. The steering wheel had a mind of its own, the universe made it so. Or any other bullshit excuse she could think of to shift the blame away from herself.

But she knew the truth. Her body, mind, and heart knew she wanted to be here. She needed to be here, needed to see you.

She wouldn't be able to ease her nerves if a conversation about everything that happened last night wasn't had. Riri wasn't keen on loose ends, or miscommunication. She needed to know where the two of you stood.

So here she was, parked outside your place in low light, waiting for you to acknowledge her text message, and her existence alike.

Maybe Hakeem was up there, lying in bed with you, and that's why you couldn't text back. But she hadn't seen his car outside. She'd scoped the scene out as she pulled in, and she knew he wasn't here. Which left only the conclusion that you didn't want to talk to her. The thought made her audibly gulp, and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat, adjusting her hoodie as if trying to hide herself out of sheer embarrassment.

But then, just as her phone screen was about to dim, and go out completely, it buzzed in her palm, reviving the brightness once more.

You: a ‘you up’ text? seems a bit cliché, no?

Her heart lurched, before taking off on a full blown sprint down the road, and Riri huffed a laugh. That stupid grin was already spreading across her face, and she didn't even try to stop it.

Was this you… teasing her?

Riri: i’ll take that as a yes

Your reply came almost instantly this time.

You: yeah, i am up actually. i’m working on our presentation for the delta lab symposium that's coming up. you know, the one we’re supposed to be doing together? 🙄

Riri: oh yeah, i keep forgetting about that

Riri: but anyway, i’m outside

She anticipated the pause that followed. The bubbles at the bottom of her screen appeared, then vanished. Appeared again. Vanished again.

She chuckled, and shook her head. “So this how we playing this?”

And then…

You: do you know what time it is? why are you outside my apartment?

She responded without the slightest bit of hesitation.

Riri: sooo, are you coming down, or no?

More bubbles. Disappearing. Coming back. Disappearing again. Longer than before this time, and Riri felt like she was watching paint dry.

Five minutes went by, seven, nine, eleven.

Her mind ran to the worst case scenario. Maybe you’d realized how fucked this all was, blocked her number, and went to sleep. Why else would you stop replying so abruptly?

Maybe you–

You: fine.

She exhaled hard, like someone had punched all the air from her lungs, and she felt her jaw loosen, doing away with the previous tick that she thought to be permanent. She felt her smile stretching, unfurling into something uncontainable, so she bit down hard on her knuckle to keep it from spreading. Her eyes traveled to the front doors excitedly, and she waited impatiently until she saw them slide open, and you step out into the night.

•••

The first thing you said upon entering Riri’s car was, “Hi,” after closing the door with a slight thud.

It was a murmur, though she heard it just fine, and she internalized that singular word. But the thing she struggled to do next was offer up a response. She was too transfixed by the picture of you being here, right next to her in real time, to speak. You slid into her car with effortless grace, carrying a rush of warm air and the heady pull of your signature perfume, stronger now than she’d ever been lucky enough to breathe in.

Smoky vanilla and saffron.

A combination concocted by the heavens, made specifically for you to wield against her, to keep her spellbound like she currently was. Bereft of speech, and autonomy. You could immobilize her with just your scent alone. If only you knew the power you held over her, how much she'd let you get away with without objection.

It took her eons to respond, and when she finally did, she blurted the only thing on her mind. “You smell so fucking good.”

“Thanks…” You chuckled gently, shifting so your palms were now tucked under your thighs. “I was expecting like a hey back or something, but that works too, I guess.”

Riri detected a hint of nerves beneath your laugh, and her lips twitched. Even subdued, she could still make you blush.

“Never really been a fan of small talk.” She declared, eyeing you up and down.

You scrunched your nose, smiling, “What kind of talk are you a fan of then?”

Her own smile curved halfway, “Mmm… you don't want me to answer that.”

The two of you fell into a fit of laughter, effortless and refreshing. She let the sound of your giggles loiter in her head, playing it on loop even after it had diminished in real time. God, she would never get over how good it felt to make you laugh, the times it happened were few and far between, but she knew she wanted to keep doing it.

“You're probably right about that.” You adjusted in your seat next to her, pulling the hem of your pajama shorts down and over your thigh.

Riri’s eyes dipped down immediately, locking onto your barren flesh, examining your body for a moment too long, before she dragged them back up to meet your gaze. “Nice pajamas.”

She'd been so bewitched by your fragrance when you first got inside the car, that she hadn't even paid attention to your attire. Well, not enough anyway. Your pajamas were fairly modest. Grey crop top, loose fitting grey shorts tied lazily at your waist, and an oversized zip up hoodie of the same color that was failing terribly at its job to keep you covered up.

She was trying not to stare, though resistance proved to be difficult. Every time you moved even a little, the fabric sticking to your body would ride up. Her pulse would skip, her eyes kept flicking back to your legs, fixating on the subtle flex of your stomach.

You didn't just look good, you looked touchable. And fuck, it was killing her not to. She wanted to reach out, and run her nails along your velvety, deep brown skin. Drag her fingers down your shoulders, your forearms, your thighs. Eventually, they’d wander inwards, drawn to your core’s heat, stopping only if you’d asked. But Riri had a feeling you wouldn't ask.

“You like my pajamas?” You questioned, voice flat and unimpressed.

“Yeah. They're cute. I like how they look on you.”

You rolled your eyes, “So, that why you came over here? To tell me you like how my pajamas look on me?”

“No,” Riri shook her head, biting her lip as she stared at you. “I came to tell you I wanna see what they look like off you. Pretty sure I’d like that waaay more.”

There was that laugh of yours again, so infectious. “You always been this corny?”

Riri nodded, “Been a certified cornball my entire life baby. Got no shame in it.”

“You don't got no shame about nothin’, that's ya damn problem.”

“I’m sure it is.” She chuckled. “I think I’ll be alright though.”

The quiet that followed wasn’t awkward, not really. It was the kind that made the air buzz, the kind where every unspoken thing between you pressed at the edges of the conversation, just waiting for their day in the sun. Riri’s knee was bouncing, but she swore it wasn’t from nerves, it was energy. You were right there, close enough to kiss if she just leaned in. And she wanted to. Badly. Her eyes fell to your lips, studying their perfect, permanent pout. But she stopped herself, finding your face again.

Not yet.

“This gonna be a regular thing now?” You were drawing circles on your thighs with your thumb, bashfully averting her gaze.

Riri raised an eyebrow, “Define this.”

She was curious to know your answer, though she had little hope it’d be the thing she wanted to hear.

You cleared your throat nervously, then chewed on your lip a little before answering, “This being you texting me, and showing up here in the middle of the night.”

Riri shrugged, “Depends on if that's how you want this to go.”

You turned to look at her, eyes catching, and she unearthed curiosity in your irises, maybe even a twinge of uncertainty.

“Is that how you want this to go?” She quizzed again, needing you to heed the urgency in her tone without seeming desperate.

“I don't know.”

She figured you'd say that. It was the truth afterall, and she couldn't blame you for speaking it, even if it did sting a little in the ears.

Her eyes softened the longer she sat there studying you, and her heart hurt as she began picking apart every flicker of expression on your face. Your mind was moving fast, spinning out of control, searching for a semblance of rationale that you would never discover. So she decided to offer what she could instead.

Her hand slid across the car’s center console, fingers brushing yours before curling around them, fitting between them like they were meant to meet. And the spark was instant, surging up her arm, and burrowing deep into her chest. “How are you feeling?”

She asked the question without malice, hoping you'd appreciate the sincerity.

“Still trying to figure that out too,” You admitted, voice low. “It feels like every cell in my body is on fire, and I can’t put them out.”

Riri’s brows lifted a bit, “Do you want to? Put the fire out I mean.”

“Some days, yes. Others, no.”

“What about right now?” She asked, struggling to keep her voice steady.

You took your time answering the question, your contemplation forcing the silence between you two to simmer. It made Riri begin to question if she'd pushed too far, but then–

“No.”

She breathed out, almost triumphantly, nodding along with your answer. She hoped you'd say that, so she could lay that tiny sliver of doubt in the back of her head to rest.

“How come.”

The way you looked at her now, with your skin bathed in moonlight, and your umber orbs leaking innocence, she felt like a fool for even asking, when the answer was so painstakingly evident.

“Because,” You began, eyes dropping to her lips for half a second, maybe less than that, before you brought them back up to bore into her soul once more, “my fire burns hottest when I’m around you. But it doesn't hurt. It's comforting. Grounding. Steadies me when I start to tilt.”

Riri stayed silent, allowing you to get it all out, the words she’d been dying to hear you fess up to for months. She hadn't anticipated how difficult they would be to hear though. Not because they hurt, but because each one was like a lightning bolt to her flesh, charging her up so much that she thought she would combust.

“I think–” You exhaled, flailing a bit as you tried to find the right words, “I think my fire burns for you, Riri, not because of you.”

Her mouth curved, and a laugh slipped out. Not mocking, but totally sardonic in that true Riri Williams fashion, “What’s the difference?”

She watched you suppress a grin, and bite back your blush before you started speaking, “The difference is…” You shifted your attention down to where your fingers interlocked, making it your focal point as you continued, “When a fire burns for a person, it's not destructive. It's not meant to consume you. It's meant to keep them warm, keep them safe.”

“I make you feel safe?” Riri’s breath hitched on the end of her sentence, and her voice cracked. Your words had slipped into her fortitude, and broke something open. She wasn't used to hearing things like that, quite the opposite actually. You had no idea what it did to her to be told she was good for someone, that she could provide safety in this perilous world.

You nodded, biting your lip like a seductress. “Mhmm.”

She swallowed, her thumb unconsciously stroking over the back of your hand. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me right now,” She murmured, and it wasn’t meant to come out as desperate and damaged as it did.

Your head tilted slightly, eyes glittering in the dim light. “Maybe I do.”

That made her laugh, low, under her breath, the kind that formed in her gut. “See, this is why you're dangerous,” She said, shaking her head but unable to stop herself from leaning in a fraction closer. “You sitting there, looking like that, talking like that. What exactly do you expect me to do in this situation?”

“You showed up outside my building in the middle of the night, and I’m the dangerous one? Yeah… okay.” You teased, causing her to grin.

It spread lazily across her lips before she licked them, like she was savoring the taste of the truth in the air. “Touché.”

The tension between you two was supercharged, like a live, exposed wire one spark away from snapping, and causing everything to go up in flames. Riri’s heartbeat was a baseline in her ears now, deep and steady, a tick louder than the music playing in the background. Your gaze made her skin prickle, like you were reading through her, documenting answers you didn't have to ask for. That damn vanilla perfume was beginning to permeate her pores, her nostrils, settling into her veins, and traveling throughout her entire nervous system.

She'd never done fentanyl before, not her drug of choice, but if she had to infer, she’d say the sensation was akin to what she felt right now.

Once again, she felt herself longing for your glossed lips. Did you taste as delicious as you smelled right now? Though she already knew the answer was yes, it wouldn't hurt to double check, right?

You twisted your body to face her even more, and it felt deliberate.

Riri followed suit, inching in so she was nearer to you, fingers still intertwined, her shoulder pressing into yours as if trying to consume some of your flames.

Her voice dropped to something more sultry, more breathy, more needy, “If you keep looking at me like that, I’m not responsible for what happens next.”

Your smirk was small and taunting, as you whispered, “What's gonna happen next?”

She didn't answer right away. She wanted to savor the sweetness of this moment, make it stretch, make it last. Your mouth was merely a breath away from hers, and you had the devil dancing in your irises, confessing to her that you were prepared to experience the unholiest of things with her. And Riri needed to take a snapshot of this moment to hold onto forever.

As badly as she wanted to close the gap between you and her, to prove last night wasn’t some fluke or mistake, she knew she couldn't. Not with the memory of those sounds—those soft, airy noises you’d made for Hakeem—flashing uninvited across her mind. She pulled back just enough to breathe, forcing her expression to stay unreadable.

And instead of leaning in, she leaned back, and broke the silence with a casual, “We should probably talk about last night.”

You turned your head toward her, your expression impassive under the wash of streetlight through the windshield. “I thought that’s what we were doing…”

“Not in so many words,” She countered.

“Okay…”

The change was immediate. The way your voice turned deadpan, your shoulders tensed, a ripple of stiffness she could feel beneath her palm. You angled your face away from hers, breaking that thin electric thread that always thrummed between you, and her stomach dropped just a little at the loss.

She gave your hand a little squeeze of reassurance, wanting to still hold tight to you as her tether, but she had no idea if it landed. “You kissed me last night,” Riri said, voice careful. “Said a lot of things we didn't really get a chance to unpack.”

That was when you slipped your hand away from hers. Not a snatch, not angry, just… gone. And of course the absence of you stung, even if it was just your hand. Her stomach twisted. Your profile in the passenger seat was shillouetted, the glow from the dashboard catching on your cheekbone and the corner of your mouth. She wanted to cup your face, force you to look at her, but instead she stayed still.

You let out a faint laugh—sharp, disbelieving—and muttered something under your breath.

“What was that?” Riri questioned, furrowing her brows.

You cut your eyes at her, squinting ever so slightly, “I said. I wonder why we never got that chance.”

A flicker of irritation batted inside her chest. Why did it sound like you were annoyed with her? If anything, shouldn’t she be the one holding onto a grudge?

“Maybe because your boyfriend interrupted us,” Riri shot back. “And we were at his birthday party, where there were guests.”

“We could’ve talked afterwards,” You countered, heat edging your voice. “When everyone left. I actually expected us to. But you had an important shower to get to, remember? With your girlfriend?”

“What?” She asked, sharper now.

“You left me to go upstairs and shower with Zariyah. What, you got amnesia now?” You rolled your eyes, fiddling with your fingernails.

Riri let out a breath of disbelief, barely containing her own annoyance. “You know, I wish I had amnesia, actually. That way I would forget the sound of your boyfriend making you come all night long.”

All the color drained from your face, replaced by shame instead, “What– You heard–”

“Yeah,” She cut in without hesitation, leaning back just slightly, like putting physical space between the two of you might keep her from unraveling. “I heard you last night. Not like you was tryna be quiet.”

You hadn't said anything, just fixed your eyes on something far away, near the tree line in the distance. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. How did the two of you always manage to turn everything into an argument?

You swallowed hard, still not looking at her, “I just find it funny how you can fuck your girlfriend in the shower all you want, but I can’t–”

“I ain't fuck nobody last night,” Riri declared, her voice stern like a warning. “Let's get that clear.”

You head snapped towards her in a flash, “But I thought–”

“Yeah, you thought wrong.” Riri finally relaxed in her seat again, exhaling slow. “Look, I don't wanna fight, okay? That's not why I came here. I just wanna… figure all this out. I’m sorry.”

Your gaze softened a fraction, but your voice stayed sharp. “I only did it because I thought–”

That stopped her cold. Your confession landed in her chest, and unspooled something tight that she had never considered before. Jealousy, she realized—you’d been jealous. And you ran to Hakeem to try and quell it. Riri shouldn't be happy about that truth, her actions had pushed you into the arms of another. She should be furious. Hurt. And she was before, but now, she couldn't stifle the smirk breaking across her face.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now, Riri?” You scolded, catching her smize before it left her eyes. “You're smiling about that? Really?”

“No, I’m not.” She protested quickly, but her lips had yet to fall back into a straight line.

You laughed, embarrassed. “Oh goodness, you are unbelievable.”

And boy was she ecstatic to hear that glorious sound again.

“Look,” She said, her voice dipping, “I know how complicated this is…”

“Yeah,” You agreed softly.

“But,” She leaned in slightly, “I think we can make it work.”

Your brow furrowed. “How?”

Riri moved back, patted her lap. “Come here.”

“Like… in your lap?”

“No, on my face,” She teased without missing a beat, delighting in the way your body stalled, the way your lips parted like you weren’t sure if you’d heard her right. “Girl, if you don’t come over here, I ain't playing this game with you tonight.”

“Okay, okay, damn.” You giggled, climbing over the console. Your thigh brushed her arm, and your ass hit the horn by accident, the sound blaring through the quiet parking lot before you both burst out laughing.

“You gotta be careful dragging all that ass around,” Riri grinned, biting her lip as she caught you by the hips, then grabbing two greedy handfuls before pulling you down so you straddled her. “Might cause an earthquake.”

“Shut the fuck up, Riri. God!” You cackled, burying your face deep in the crook of her neck, breathing her in, and Riri had to battle the urge not to moan right there.

She didn’t tease you about how your warm cheeks sizzled her skin. Instead, she slid a hand up to cup your jaw, coaxing you to look at her. “I meant what I said last night. I can make all of this worth it, if you let me.”

Your eyes danced over hers, “How?”

Riri lowered the tone of her voice to something more intimate, more deliberate. “Do you trust me?”

You nodded, but that wasn’t enough for her. “No, I need to hear you say it. Do you trust me?”

“I shouldn't, but I do,” You inhaled shakily, “I trust you, Riri.”

The sound of it made her pulse kick up, heat pooling in her stomach, and she smirked slow. “Good.”

And then she kissed you.

•••

The kiss was not soft, or tentative—it was a collision, a great release, like both of you had been holding your breath for far too long, and finally dared to exhale. Your mouth was warm and faintly sweet, the vanilla from your perfume somehow blossoming on her tongue. Her fingers slid into your freshly washed hair, tugging and gripping just enough to keep you where she needed you.

You kissed her back just as violently, like you meant to take something, anything—everything from her, and she handed it all over without pause. Your mouth was hot, pliant, hungry against hers, your breath unsteady when Riri tilted her head to deepen the kiss, tongue sweeping over yours in slow, determined strokes that made you moan into her throat.

She didn’t even realize she’d pulled you tighter in her lap until your chest was flush to hers, your knees bracketing her hips. One hand stayed tangled in your hair, the other slid down your side, over the curve of your waist, fingers skimming under the hem of your pajama top until she felt skin. Warm, soft, intoxicating skin.

She let her fingertips map you like she had all the time in the world, trailing up your ribs, dipping around to your back, sliding lower again until her palm cupped your ass, and she felt a shiver run through you.

God, you were making little noises in the back of your throat—the kind that set her blood on fire, all for her and no one else. And she chased every sound, every stuttered exhale, until it was hard to tell whose breathing was more ragged.

Her mouth left yours only long enough to kiss the corner of it, then your jaw, then drag down to the soft, warm line of your throat. She felt you tilt your head back, granting her permission to keep going, and she smirked as she watched your pulse jump.

Riri’s teeth grazed along your neck, tempted to bite, to suck, but she was smarter than that.

And so were you, apparently, because you pulled back just enough to whisper a breathy, broken warning, “N-No hickies, please…”

“That's fine,” She chuckled, running her wet tongue languidly up the column of your throat. “There are other ways for me to mark my territory.”

When she found your mouth again, she was hungrier, insatiable. She was sure she’d never get enough, not in this lifetime, maybe not the next.

The Bryson Tiller song in the background was barely recognizable now, nothing more than a bass line syncing with her own heartbeat. All she could register was you. The press of your thighs around her hips, the slick slide of your tongue against hers, the way you were holding her face now like you were afraid she’d vanish if you let go.

And maybe she would’ve, if she were with anyone else.

Your whines were starting to get softer, more desperate and frequent, and Riri knew exactly what that meant. She let her fingers breach the waistband of your shorts, teetering lower and lower, waiting for just a hint of protest. But it never came.

Instead, you rocked your hips against her, pressing yourself harder into her thigh, and she used her free hand to guide you.

There was nothing subtle about your movements, nothing subtle about the way your breath was hitching as you rode her, and when you broke the kiss to drop your head to her shoulder, she just about fractured inside.

“Yeah,” She murmured into your hair, smug and reverent, “I know, baby. I know what you want.”

Your hips stuttered at that, and she smirked against your temple. She slid her hand fully into your shorts, surprised at the absence of underwear, and the vast ocean her fingers were now swimming in, a hint of pride blooming near her heart. “You gon let me give it to you?”

When you nodded your head along her neck, Riri felt triumphant. She had you right where she wanted you, and she wouldn't let you slip away so easily, not like she did last night.

“Turn around for me.”

You hesitated, blinking at her like you weren’t sure you heard her right. “Turn…?”

“Yeah,” She whispered, smoothing her hands up and down your thighs. “Back to my chest.”

You hesitated, only for a beat before moving. The motion was sort of clumsy in the cramped space of the car, your legs brushing hers, your knee catching the console, and you huffed out in quiet frustration. She almost laughed at how cute you were, but decided against it. When you finally settled with your back pressed to her front, she hooked her chin over your shoulder, pinning you to her.

The shift pulled your pajama top up just enough for your bare breasts to kiss the air, and like magnets, her hot hands were drawn to them. “Tell me to stop if this isn't what you want.”

You whimpered, the sound like music to her ears as you replied, “This– This is what I want.”

The encouragement only egged her on. Riri kept a handful of your left breast in one hand, tweaking and pinching your nipple, taking pride in the way you squirmed for her. The other crept down your abdomen, labored in its trek, stopping short just as she reached the waistband of your pajama bottoms. Her eyes found yours in the rear view mirror, assessing how blown your pupils were, how wrecked you looked already. She’d barely touched you, yet you were so far gone.

“How bout this,” Her fingers dipped past the elastic of your shorts with slow intent, still taking in your reflection with her gaze. “You want this too?”

“Yes…” You breathed, like you were on your last, and you were granting her permission to revive you with her touch.

That was all the confirmation Riri needed. She dove in fully, cupping the wet heat that had been waiting for her. Her thumb swiped across your slippery clit, and she just about passed out from the slickness. This is what she felt last night through your stockings, the stickiness she'd been feening for ever since.

You jolted at the first burst of contact, hips jerking forward instinctively. She smiled against your neck, dragging her nose along your jaw as her hand molded itself to you, massaging your sensitive bud in smooth, slow circles.

“This…” Riri muttered, her own breathing labored, “This is what I meant when I said I could make all this worth it.” Her hand moved lower, two fingers inching closer to and circling your dripping hole, before sinking in completely. “And I ain't just talking bout my hands–” Her digits flexed, catching that spot that made you exhale as she thrusted them in and out, in, and out. “I’m talking about learning you, knowing you. Like really knowing you, anticipating everything you need without you having to say it.”

“If you let me, that is.” She nibbled on your ear, letting the flurries of her words kiss your cheeks, and she watched you thrash each time she pulled her fingertips out just long enough for you to miss them. You were moaning loudly, barely able to keep your eyes open the deeper she fucked you. A gorgeous sight, one she'd fantasized about countless times, but it wouldn’t do in this scenario.

“Keep those eyes on me, baby.”

And you obeyed, somewhat reluctant as you trailed your gaze up to the rear view mirror to find hers, and Riri smirked. “Good girl.”

You were melting into her, thighs twitching against the seat, your voice breaking on a soft, “Ri…”

She could tell you wanted more, and in due time you would receive it, but she still had to have her fun in the meantime. She'd waited months for something like this to happen, and she was going to make sure it lasted, make sure your sweet essence had seeped fully into her system before she stopped.

“You don't know how long I’ve waited to hear you say my name like that,” She put more pressure on your clit, pressing in firm enough for you to cry out. “How many nights I got myself off to the thought alone.”

You bucked your hips, and your back lifted off her chest, like your body was running behind the contact.

Riri smiled to herself as she centered you in her lap once more, looping an arm around your middle to keep you still and flush against her, and then she continued, “I prayed for this to be my reality, prayed for you to be mine.”

Her expert digits stretched you wide, splashing around in your wetness as you dripped for her. Riri let out her own string of curses at how fucking tight you were, you were sucking her fingers into your deepness, swallowing her knuckles with your cunt. And shit, it felt sooo damn good.

“You're with me now, but I’m not sure if I have you.” She stared at you, memorizing your reflection. Every crease in your forehead, how your lips parted as you gasped for her. “Do I?”

You bobbed your head, gripping onto the driver’s door with a shaking hand as a means to keep steady. She fucked you hard, her strokes gaining speed as you wiggled in her arms, cry after cry echoing throughout her car. It was a good thing she had tints, she wasn't too keen on the idea of any random passerby witnessing you in this state.

Your pussy wept for her, streams and streams of slick gushing out as she knocked her digits into your nerves, and she wasn't confident in your ability to hold it for much longer.

“Words baby,” Riri corrected, thumbing your clit in tandem with her thrusts, “Need to hear you say it.”

“Do I have you?”

“Fuck, Riri! Yes, you h-have me!”

That made her tender heart flutter, that unabashed confirmation. “I don't care how messy this is, or how wrong it is, who it might hurt,” She breathed into your ear, continuing her steady strokes. “I want all of it. All of you. Even the parts you try to hide.”

You gasped, your hole clenching around her two fingers as an indicator. Your body was telling on you now, back arching, lips quivering. Riri sat up, embedding her chest to your back, and she was certain you could feel how fast her heart was hammering, maybe even hear it—she could certainly hear yours.

“I’m not selfless,” She admitted, voice shaking with something more dangerous than lust. “I know I want you selfishly. In every way you’ll let me have you. But I swear–” Her strokes were picking up, pulling more desperate grunts from you “This ain't a game to me. All I want is to make you feel good, always.

Mind, and body.”

“No one else can give you that. And no one else will.”

Another shattered gasp slipped past your lips, and she tightened her arm around your ribs, locking you in place. “I just need to hear you say it. Need you to tell me you want that too.”

You sobbed, biting your lip as you eyed her in the mirror, “I-I want that, so-so bad–”

“Yeah?” She fucked her fingers into you, with more precision now, knowing how close you were. “Tell me you need it.” Your pussy was begging her for more, and Riri was prepared to give, and give, and give. “Tell me you can't fucking live without it.”

She hissed those last words, plowing into you with ruthless vigor. Your tits were bouncing, wetness splashing all over her seat, but she couldn’t care less. She was hypnotized by the vision reflected back at her in the mirror, captivated by your fucked out features.

“I need it, Ri!” You wailed, writhing uncontrollably in her arms as you approached your impending climax. “Fuck, oh I– I need you, can't live without you! Riri, please oh my god!”

Satisfied with your declaration, Riri pressed hot, wet kisses into the back of your neck, coaxing your orgasm to the forefront with her thumb, “Come on, beautiful, don't run away from this. I know how bad you want it, how much you deserve it.”

She could hear your voice giving out, feel your walls flex around her. “Give into that fire and come for me. Come all over me baby. Make a mess on my seat.”

“Mmmm, Ri… I… Fuck me!”

One last stroke had you gushing onto the fingers she had buried deep inside you. You were twitching, barely awake as you went limp in her arms, and she rubbed circles into your back to soothe you. “That was so fucking good baby. You did so good. M’so proud of you.”

Riri eased her cum covered fingers out of your pussy, lifting them to her lips, making eye contact with you in the mirror as she sucked them clean. You tasted holy. Like heaven, like the universe, your flavor painting galaxies behind her lids. She watched cheekily as you shied away from her lewd act, groaning in embarrassment and tucking your face into the crook of her neck.

“Don't be getting all shy now,” She cooed against your face, voice still rough from everything she’d just done to you. “You made the mess. I just cleaned it up.”

You rolled on your side, half covering your face with your hands like you could hide from her. “Oh my god, stop talking.”

Riri laughed, the sound quiet and self-satisfied, but it faded into something more serious as her gaze lingered on you. Your hair was a little messy and sweated out, lips pouty and bruised, and your perfume still fogged the car’s air.

Perhaps that was why her next question came with such ease. “Do you regret it?”

It was a meek sound, a little wounded as her insecurities weighed her words down. But here, in the afterglow, she couldn't shake the desire to know.

You turned to her then, “Look at me, Ri,” cupping her cheek in gentle reassurance. It was a struggle to meet your eyeline, probably because she feared your divulgence, but your request had been so delicate, she couldn't avoid your stare for too long.

“I don't regret it. Not any of it,” You stated it like a fact, making her heart pang. “I know I should, because I know what this means, and there's no taking any of this back. But I don't regret you, Riri.”

And you pulled her close, meshing your lips to hers. It was a brief kiss, but it left her lightheaded all over again.

When you pulled away, she let out a quiet breath of relief. “So we’re really doing this.”

“We’re really doing this,” You echoed back.

Something new clogged the air—acknowledgement. And the two of you sat in it for a little while longer, soaking it up, because you were right—there was no taking any of this back.

Eventually you both stepped out, with Riri insisting on walking you back inside. You didn't seem to mind. She could tell you wanted to remain in her orbit for as long as you could until you had to hit play on reality again—a mutual feeling.

She fell into step beside you, watching the sway of your hips like her eyes were drawn there against her will. You caught her staring and smirked, and she had the nerve to wink.

“See something you like?” You teased, stepping off the elevator.

Riri grabbed your waist from behind, laughing as you tried fighting her off. “You know I do.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. “You’re ridiculous.”

At your door, you lingered with your keys in hand, leaning against the frame. “You sure you don’t wanna come in? My roommate isn’t home.”

She knew exactly what you meant, what you were really asking. And as tempting as it was, she wanted your first time together to be somewhere with no risk of interruption. She wanted more than rushed with you, because you were worth that and more. “Not tonight,” She said with a smirk. “I need to give you some time to miss me first.”

“I already do,” You countered without hesitation.

That made her grin. “Good.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, suspicion spinning through your glare, “You sure you not just saying that cause you already changed your mind about this?”

“I should be asking you that.” She huffed dryly.

“I haven't,” You answered softly, your forehead creasing a little.

“Okay.” Riri gave you a small smile, though inside, the thought of you waking up tomorrow and deciding this was a mistake stung more than she wanted to admit. “I gotta go though. Ima see you.”

You were blushing again, biting your lip in that sexy way she liked, “Goodnight, Riri.”

“Night…”

The door clicked shut, and she turned toward the elevator. The last time she’d walked out of this building, shame and guilt had chased her all the way home. But tonight, she carried only the taste of you on her lips, the sound of your laugh in her head, and the kind of bliss that made her feel untouchable.

•••

Two days. That’s how long it had been since Sunday night, and Riri hadn’t heard a word from you. Nothing, not even a good morning text was sent her way.

She told herself she understood, somewhat. If you needed time to process the weekend’s events, then fine. She’d give you that. But still, the silence gnawed away at her anyway. You could've sent something, anything that would ease her crippling anxiety. She could've texted you first, sure, but she refrained on purpose, forcing herself to wait.

Because she needed proof, proof that you were truthful about how much you wanted her. Riri needed you to do the heavy lifting just this once, so she’d know you were in this just as deep as she was.

That night, she drifted off to sleep to your majestic image in her mind. Your mouth, the weight of your body fused to hers. It was your likeness that kept her monster at bay, the memory of your whines and whimpers serving as a lullaby he despised.

Now it was Tuesday, and she had a schedule packed to the brim with classes she had to attend if she wanted to preserve her future, and what not. It was warm out, and she found herself walking across campus with Hakeem, only half listening to his rant about his planetary sciences professor.

“I’m telling you, bruh, I should’ve gotten at least an 80 on that exam,” He professed, hands flying dramatically. “That’s how I know she plotting on my downfall.”

Riri snorted at his remark, quick and light, sliding into her role as attentive best friend with practiced ease. “Nigga, ain’t that the exam you begged me to help you study for last week, and then yo ass never showed up?”

“Man, that ain't the point! I–”

Keem’s voice faded out again, like she had mentally turned his volume down, and she sank back into her thoughts, chewing on regret once more. She should’ve gone inside with you on Sunday when you asked. Maybe if she’d had a little less respect—for you, for herself—she would’ve said yes. Who knew how the night would’ve ended then?

Why invite her in and then not text her for days? Fuck, she was spiraling. A feeling she was used to, especially when it came to you. But this, this was an unbearable capacity, one that challenged the very loose grip she already had on her life.

She knew you were with Keem last night. So what, you could text him and not her? He’d mentioned you’d gone out, offhand, casual. Interestingly enough though, she hadn't heard anything about Saturday night from him. Not that she’d expected to, he didn't owe her an explanation. It was his business. But the fact that she knew, and had to behave as though she didn't, burned still.

Were you comparing the two of them? Weighing her fingers against his? Had you decided his were better? Is that why you hadn't reached out? The thoughts twisted deep, leaving her stomach sour.

Riri’s phone buzzed in her pocket then, and she almost ignored it, until curiosity made her yank it out.

You: two of my classes got canceled, and i wanna see you. you free to come over?

Riri’s entire face broke out into a deep, wide set grin that hurt a little as it stretched. But she didn't care. She read the message twice, three times, like she had to prove it existed.

You’d texted her first.

You wanted her.

She was so caught up in her phone screen that she didn’t even notice Keem had walked ahead of her until he called out. “Yo, you good?”

Riri blinked, shoving the phone back down before the joy split her chest open. “Huh?” She jogged back to his side, trying to mask it.

“Who in that phone got you so distracted?” He teased, eyebrows raised.

Her pulse tripped over itself, panic cutting through her high, and she snapped. “What? Man, nobody. Mind your business, damn.” It came out sharper than she meant, a blade thrown out too fast.

But Hakeem didn't seem fazed by the harshness in her tone, he just laughed, holding his hands up. “My bad, my bad. I’ll definitely do that. But one of these days, Ri, that double life you living gon come back to bite you in that ass.”

A joke that was… funny enough. It should've landed though, should've hit home for Riri but it didn't. She was too keyed up from your text to even pick up on the implication, let alone care. She just scoffed, brushing him off with a wave. “Man, whatever. I gotta go.”

“Go where? Class is that way,” He shouted, pointing in the complete opposite direction.

But she barely heard him. Her feet were already moving, knowing exactly where they were heading.

Everything else could fall away—the classes she was ditching, the lie sitting in her throat, the monster that haunted her edges. All she cared about was the fact that you’d reached for her when she was about to give up hope. Riri was already running, cutting through the quad with her heart in her throat, chasing the only thing that mattered.

You.

#lyric baby! we love you #riri x reader #more than i should #riri williams x reader #cai’s recs #i hear something purring!

115 notes · View notes

vixentheplanet · 4 months ago

Text

thank you lord

More Than I Should {pt. 6}

pairing: riri ✘ black!fem!reader

summary: some truths were easier to swallow in silence. you spent years mastering the art of denial, molding yourself into the image you were told to uphold. but denial had sharp edges. and when riri touched a part of you you thought lived buried, it began to tear you apart, thread by careful tread.

word count: 9.8k

contents: mommy issues(we all have em!), reader being in her feelings, hakeem might be on to something, yearning, yearning, and more yearning, confessions, crying, complicated family dynamics, riri being riri, angst!!!!

tags: @kisskourt @dejaonline @prettymrswright @vixentheplanet @sapphicvqmpires @astroeliza @uhwhatsay @blackgcomica @6-noir @ctrleuphoria @quintessencewrites @pvnks0ul @fentibeauty @ririshotgf @idkijjustlovethisapp @naijagrl @onyxstones-world @ihearttish @sweetalittleselfish-honey @lyfeofbilly

divider by: @firefly-graphics

note: sooooooo here we are. this was actually so fun to write. angst is always soo fun! CHEATING STARTS NEXT CHAPTER! and then it's only up from there! giving y'all permission to yell at me now, it's okay! hehe! anyway, i hope you enjoy this chaotic, poetic, disaster that i've concocted. mwah mwahh! <33

↬ series masterlist

“What was Riri doing here?” Hakeem hadn't even let the door click shut behind him before bombarding you with the pressing question. His tempered voice held a calm edge, but accusation bobbed beneath it.

You sighed, eyes drifting over your intentionally curated space, searching for something to help steady your heart and mind. But tonight, the typically lulling autumn tones of your home had no comfort to provide. Instead, the room seemed to be closing in around you, the shrinking walls shoving you closer to Hakeem and the unanswered question permeating the tension-thick air.

It almost felt like a punishment, one you possibly deserved.

You still hadn't looked at your boyfriend, the expectant silence ringing in your ears as you shamefully averted his stare.

Impatience radiated off him in microwaves, making you nauseous. “Hello? You don't hear me talking to you?”

If only you were to be so lucky.

You wished you hadn't heard him. You wished he hadn't spoken at all, because his question wasn't one you foresaw yourself answering. Mostly because you hadn't an answer to give. You were already asking yourself the same thing over and over in your head, making yourself dizzy each time you came up short. You wanted to move on, and forget that Riri was even here to begin with.

Huffing another defeated breath, you finally forced yourself to meet his eyeline, and instantly regretted it.

His dark eyes pinned you in place, worry lines etched deeply into his forehead as his brows knitted together. Hakeem loomed in your doorway like a quiet storm, hands stuffed in his pockets, yet somehow managing to command the room with an intensity that made your stomach twist. He wasn’t doing much—just watching—but it was enough to make you feel exposed, like he was dissecting you with every glance.

God, you were so grateful you'd ventured further into the apartment than he did—had you been closer to him—his stare would've surely worn you down.

He wasn't speaking, just waiting expectantly, his patience unnerving. You could see the gears in his head turning as he tried assembling a puzzle he couldn't quite see yet. And worse, you knew he was looking to you for the missing pieces. Pieces you didn’t have, pieces you couldn’t give, you were working with a different puzzle entirely.

“We uh…” You began, your trembling pitch jumping higher than intended, “got paired up on a project for class.” You cleared your throat, willing yourself to sound steady, but it didn't help.

He took a deliberate step closer to you, closing the gap you created between you. Instinctively, you stepped back a little, your eyes darting to his expression, stone-set, unyielding. Your breath hitched as you gulped, his towering frame making you feel small and cornered.

“When?” Hakeem asked, his voice dry, clipped.

“Today,” You answered quickly, blinking up at him anxiously.

His chin dipped once, then again, before he inhaled sharply, the sound cutting through the quiet. “And why you ain’t told me none of this when we was on the phone earlier?” He asked, his tone calm but laced with something heavy, something that made your pulse race.

Why hadn't you mentioned Riri? Or at the very least, the project? It wasn't like you forgot, you told Riri to come over and you’d expected her to, hoped she would even. So why had you neglected to tell your boyfriend?

Your lips parted, but there was an absence of words as you found your eyes drifting over to the couch a few paces away, and to the memory that was now attached to it.

Your mind raced back to the way Riri had looked at you, the soft smile lingering on her lips, the warmth that had filled the room when it was just the two of you. You could still feel Riri’s presence, like a ghost hovering at the edge of your senses, and the thought of it stirred a quiet ache in your chest. You wanted to push it all down, to ignore the confusion clawing its way up, but with Hakeem standing there, that was impossible. His eyes searched your face, waiting for an explanation you didn’t have.

“Don't know,” You whispered airily, trying to feign nonchalance,“Slipped my mind I guess.” You weren't looking at him as you finished, too immersed in the memories of the line you’d almost crossed, and the desperation birthed from your want to cross it—with Riri.

She’d seen the desire in your eyes, damn near tasted it on your haunted breaths. And it was safe to assume she felt the same. Hadn't she admitted it in her own way? You could still see the spark in her gaze, hear the low husk in her voice, like she was fighting her own war against the pull between you.

But what did it mean? To her? For you?

It couldn't mean anything, not to her. And it sure as hell could not, under any circumstances mean anything, for you. You were not like her. You were not… like that. You were raised differently. You… were raised right.

You did not like girls.

How could you like girls? You wore pretty dresses and dainty jewelry your whole life. You were compliant, didn't act out, didn't stray from the path. You were soft-spoken and modest—the complete opposite of Riri and Zariyah, and… your sister. A good girl. The type of girl boys wanted to be with. Boys like Hakeem.

Hakeem. His name pulled you back to reality, the reality where he stood before you, eyes wild and sharp, his energy filling the space like a warning. He was still waiting, still watching, still anticipating a response to whatever it was he'd said—or asked—while you were zoned out, lost in your thoughts about his best friend.

He was the type of guy you were supposed to be with. Steady, dependable, exactly the kind of man your mother expected you to be with. And you liked Hakeem. He made sense. Your feelings for him made sense.

But fuck, this was all too much! Too confusing. Too frustrating. You couldn't even concentrate on a specific feeling when there were twelve more barreling toward you with every passing second. And why was Hakeem still talking, for fucks sake?

“It slipped your mind to tell me that my best friend, who you don't even like, was coming over here? Since when do you miss any opportunity to complain about Riri?” His voice climbed, impatience weaving through his words, and it grated against your fraying nerves.

The accusations, the tones, the relentless questioning—you couldn't take it anymore.

So you snapped, “Do I gotta tell you every fucking thing I do? You need a goddamn copy of my schedule? Should I put a sign-in sheet outside my door so you can know who’s been here?!” Your voice cut through the air as you pushed past him, stomping over to the coffee table. You shut your forgotten laptop with a sharp clap, snatching up Riri’s leftover fries with shaking hands.

“I’m just tryna figure out what the hell is going on here,” Hakeem clipped back, his tone low and tight, his confusion mixing with irritation as he followed you across the room. “Why the hell are you yelling?! The fuck?”

You whirled on him, heat pulsing through your chest. “Cause who the fuck you talking to?! Coming up in my shit accusing me of whatever the fuck your paranoid ass conjured up in your head! And I don’t fucking appreciate being interrogated in my own home! Like who the hell gave you the ri–”

“Y’all were the ones acting weird as fuck when I got here,” He interjected, his voice jagged, cutting through yours. “Not answering phones, sweating, moving all cagey. Riri said like two words to me before she bolted, and you took three damn years to tell me why she was even here! The vibe was fucking off!”

He had a point. You couldn’t deny that. But it was too late now to back down.

“So what conclusion did you come to?” You shot back, your words sharp, dripping with sarcasm. “Since you’re so in tune with vibes and shit?”

You turned your back on him, retreating to the kitchen, gripping onto the excuse of unloading the dishwasher to keep your hands busy and your mind off his presence.

“I don’t know what conclusion to come to,” Hakeem muttered, his voice closer than you expected. “But something ain't feel right. Still don’t. Feels like you’re lying to me about something, and this whole damn argument is just to distract me from that. The fuck else am I supposed to think when I show up to see you, alone, with somebody you claim to hate, dressed like–”

“We were planning your surprise party! Fuck, there!” You blurted, the words exploding from you before you could think them through. The lie barely sounded believable in your own head, but it was all you had.

In the sudden silence, your grip slipped on a cup, and it clattered to the floor, the clang cutting through the tension like a slap.

“Man, don’t even–”

You spun to face him, exhaling hard as you held up your hands. “Hakeem, I’m serious. Your birthday is literally a few weeks away, and we wanted to do something nice for you, jeez!”

He stared at you, his brows still furrowed, suspicion lingering just beneath the surface. “Thought you said you were working on a project,” He pressed, his voice cautious.

“That’s still true,” You answered quickly, forcing your tone to remain calm. “Dr. Lucas paired us up earlier, and we were working on it. Then we got to talking about you to fill the awkwardness, and we decided to put our differences aside to plan the best party ever. All for you.” You added a smile, hoping to sell the lie.

Hakeem stepped closer, his eyes narrowing slightly as he gave you a long, assessing look. He bent down, scooping up the fallen cup, his movements slow and deliberate as he placed it in the cupboard above your head. “A surprise party. Really?”

“Really,” You said, your voice quieter now, barely steady. “But it ain't much of a surprise anymore now that you ruined it.”

“And y’all just dropped all the bullshit y’all got going on, just like that? For me?”

You blinked, relief washing over you as you watched his face soften, the tension slipping away. His lips tugged into that familiar dimple edged grin, the one that had always made you feel safe. “Yes, baby. For you. And Riri already apologized to me a little while ago. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t know if I accepted it yet. But tonight helped me decide, once I saw how much she cares about you.”

Your voice softened on the last part, though not for the reasons you let Hakeem believe. Had you forgiven Riri? You didn’t want to. But there was something else there, a feeling, or rather feelings that you refused to name, that made it impossible to keep up appearances.

Hakeem pulled you close, his long arms wrapping around your waist as he grinned down at you, his hands curling firmly over your ass. “I’m glad y’all figuring your shit out. And I’m glad y’all can finally be alone without trying to kill each other,” He said, his voice dipping into something low and possessive as his grip tightened. “But don’t ever let me see you dressed like this in front of anyone who ain’t me, again.”

You giggled, leaning into his touch. “Oh?”

“Yeah. All this shit mine,” He muttered, his hand coming down on your ass with a firm smack. “I hope you know that.”

You hadn't gifted him an answer, only a smirk, as you stood on your tiptoes to press your lips to his, and he moaned into your mouth, lifting you up and placing you on the counter. The kiss was rough, needy, your hands clawing at him as if trying to forget everything else in the heat of the moment, reveling in the thunderous heartbeat at your core, and your growing wetness.

Riri didn’t do this to you, you thought, as Hakeem pressed against you. She couldn’t. Only Hakeem did, because he was a boy. No girl could ever make you feel this way—because it was wrong—because it wasn’t how you were designed.

•••

Between wet kisses, and greedy touches, you finally convinced Hakeem to spend the night in his own bed. He hadn't wanted to leave, not after your fight.

“I hate it when we fight.” He’d murmured into your breath, wet lips prolonging what was supposed to be a simple goodnight peck.

You’d giggled into his mouth, “Well, we aren't now.”

That seemed to satisfy him, as he'd left shortly after that, grinning, albeit still reluctant.

And now, here you were, lying alone in your sheets, wide awake, avoiding sleep’s undertaking.

The apartment felt impossibly quiet now. The air, thick with the lingering scent of Hakeem’s cologne and the faint whisper of Riri’s presence, wrapped around you like a contradiction, warm and familiar, yet suffocating all the same. You were staring wide-eyed at the ceiling, willing your stubborn mind to still, begging it to forget her.

As much as you craved slumber, you knew the second your eyelids fluttered shut, Riri would be there, burned into the backs of them, staining the darkness with her image.

The ghost of her haunted your apartment like she planned to make a home for herself in your space. She clung to your couch cushions, the pillows in your bed, the mattress she’d never lain in. She nestled into the hollows of your ribcage when you inhaled, as though she were meant to be there, claiming it as her final resting place.

This was a step up from merely a haunting—this was a Possession. A possession of you. And all that you were.

Exercising her from your being proved impossible, not for a lack of trying. But every thought, every fantasy led back to Riri. And her deep eyes. Her full lips, hovering barely a whisper away from yours. Even though Hakeem had just left, you sensed her everywhere. It was her voice you heard echoing off your walls—her warmth you felt—not his. And it made your stomach flip.

Fuck!

It would be so easy to roll over, to close your eyes, let exhaustion pull you under. Surrender to dreams of sun-warmed brown skin, delicate features, and the aching pull of unspoken longing. But you couldn't. Your head rejected the idea outright.

You felt wired, frenzied beneath your own skin. Like your flesh hadn't belonged to you at all. You were a foreigner in your own body, your own mind.

Your behavior tonight was entirely out of character. Contrasting everything you’ve ever done, felt, or thought. This wasn't you.

This was… wrong.

You were just confused.

That's what your mother would say. That's what she did say. To your sister, the day she brought Andy home.

•••

You surveyed the girl’s tall, slender stature. She wore a complexion that mirrored your own—but that was where the similarities ended. She was dressed in boy’s clothes, loose-fitting and unshapely, swallowing the softness you expected to see in a girl. She didn’t fit the image you’d always associated with femininity.

She was an anomaly, and you could still remember the way your mother’s face twisted when she first laid eyes on her, as if Korin had brought home something unrecognizable, something wrong.

“Andy? That's your name, Andy?” Your mother chuckled, but the sound lacked the amusement that typically accompanied laughter. It was the same laugh she used when politely dismissing things she found ridiculous, the kind that let you know exactly what she thought without her ever having to say it.

Andy however, was utterly oblivious. She had no way of knowing what lurked beneath the surface of that laugh, no way of catching the sharpness hidden in the curve of your mother’s lips. So she only smiled, unbothered, untouched. “Andrea. But I prefer Andy. Always have.

But you knew. And if you were aware, that meant your sister had picked up on it too. The indignation in your mother’s tone was subtle, but it sat in the shadows of every word, curling around them like smoke, thick and suffocating.

“Your mama named you Andrea, so that’s what I’m gon call ya.” Another chuckle, another thinly veiled jab. Then, as if the moment had passed, she waved Andy inside. “Now, come on in this kitchen, let me fix you a plate.”

Her faux politeness dissipated the moment Andy left out the front door, fading like a candle snuffed out, no longer flickering light, no longer providing warmth. Her smile slackened on her lips, the previous hospitality had dwindled to almost nothing. And when she was certain Andy had been gone entirely, she felt there was no more need for subtly.

You recounted that night like it was yesterday. Remembered where you were, what you were doing. You were in the kitchen, clearing the dishes off the table when Korin reentered the living room.

Your mother had settled onto the left side of the couch, eyes glued to the TV as she flipped through the channels. She hadn’t looked up, hadn’t moved to acknowledge Korin at all. She didn’t need to. Her frigid demeanor spoke well enough.

Yet still, she decided to vocalize her disdain, “Don't bring that girl back to my house Korin. You hear me? Just cause you let her confused ass confuse you too, don't mean Ima invite that into my home. Don't know why you think living like that is okay.”

Your mother shuffled on the couch, adjusting her legs so she would be more comfortable. “Cause it ain't.”

You’d long abandoned your chores, your attention caught by your mother's ignorant monologue. Your hands were still clutching the damp dish towel as you stood frozen in the doorway between the kitchen and living room.

Your mother kept on like she didn’t just slice into the room with words sharp enough to draw blood. She leaned back on the couch, legs crossed, face as mean as ever.

“That ain’t how I raised y’all,” She muttered, almost to herself. “Not to be out here holdin hands and playing house with some lil’ girl dressed like a damn boy. What that say about me as a mother?”

Korin stood in the middle of the room, still and quiet. Her back was straight, chin lifted, but you could not ignore the tension in her jaw—a thing that seemed to live there now—permanently etched into her face. She held her shoulders like armor. She didn’t speak. She hardly ever did these days.

Your mother huffed. “Don’t bring that mess in here no more, Korin. I mean it. I still got one daughter that's probably gon be worth a damn. Won’t have her thinking it's okay just cause she see yo narrow ass doing it.”

She hadn’t looked at you when she said it. Didn’t need to. You felt the crushing weight of her words anyway.

But Korin did. She looked at you. She turned her head. Slowly. Purposefully.

And your eyes locked.

You hadn’t said a word. Not to defend her. Not to call out your mother. Not even to leave the room. The hurt in Korin’s eyes was quiet, deep—not because of your mother. She was used to that by now.

It was you.

You sensed it in the accusing way her gaze lingered, more disappointed than angry. She had expected you to say something. And deep down, you knew she always did.

But you never did.

Never when your mother made her snide remarks. Never when she spat out words like “confused” or “wrong.” Never when she reduced Korin’s identity to a phase, a rebellion, a stain on her parenting.

You’d always just… stayed silent.

And Korin always just took it.

She didn’t defend herself. Didn’t plead her case.

She just gave you a final glance—one that spoke all the words she digested—and turned away.

Her footsteps were quiet, measured, as she disappeared up the stairs. The soft click of her bedroom door overhead might as well have been a slammed one.

•••

You broke your sister’s heart that night—clean cut—right down the center, splitting open a bond already bruised, and leaving behind a fracture that never quite healed.

A fracture that still existed today. Years later, you still carried the shame of abandoning her in that moment, leaving her to fend for herself beneath the weight of your mother’s judgment. You bore the guilt of never speaking up, never letting her know that you saw her, that you understood her identity wasn’t a phase. That she wasn’t confused.

You were.

Korin had always known who she was, despite your mother's false claims. She was confident in a way you weren't. She didn’t question herself, not like you did.

Deep down, you knew the reason you never spoke up, or questioned your mother on your sister's behalf was because you couldn't. Couldn't fathom the idea that she could speak that way about her own child. Couldn't believe her words, her audacity. She was cruel just for the sake of it, and the realization stunned you into silence and compliance.

And look what good that did. Compliance left you without your sister, her love, and her guidance.

Especially now, when you needed her most.

You were drowning in the emotions that stirred whenever Riri was near—their heat, their pull, their maddening intensity. The why. The how. The forbidden what-if.

They were so easily identifiable.

Longing. Desire. Want. Lust.

And perhaps that was what unsettled you most—that you could name them so cleanly. You weren't confused. The truth didn’t hide from you at all. You were the elusive one, sprinting away from what was, and what is.

Maybe, deep down, you’d always known you’d end up in a situation like this. And still, nothing could have prepared you for the ache of not having your sister to turn to.

Korin would’ve known exactly what to say, and what to do, without needing a second to think. There was a time when reaching out to her would’ve been instinct, not a decision you had to weigh. No hesitation. No pride standing in the way.

Maybe you still could.

Maybe, you should.

Blindly, you reached for your phone on the nightstand, fingers trembling. The bright screen stung your tired eyes as it flickered to life. You hesitated before tapping the contacts icon, scrolling slowly. Your thumb hovered once you reached the Ks, pausing over the name that had lived untouched in your phone for years.

A sharp jolt of adrenaline surged through you, and before you could change your mind, you hit the call button.

The phone rang once.

Twice.

Three times–

“Hello?”

Groggy, distant, familiar. A voice wrapped in childhood, in memories you’d tucked away. A voice you would recognize across lifetimes.

Your breath caught, tears pooling in your eyes before you could even register you were speaking. “Korin.”

“Baby sis? That you?” You heard a soft shuffle, like she was sitting up in bed. “Hello?”

But your voice failed you. You sat there frozen, phone glued tight to your ear, words hanging somewhere between guilt and longing. What were you supposed to say? It had been three years.

Three years since you saw her last. Since she left for college. Since she left home.

You had promised to call. To text.

But you never did. Until now.

And perhaps it was too late.

You weren’t there when she needed you. You hadn’t even reached for her after she finally escaped—after she freed herself. She had gotten out. And you? You stayed. You were stuck. You had become a living relic, a harrowing reminder of the very past she’d fought like hell to outrun. She didn’t deserve that. You didn't deserve her, nor were you entitled to a relationship with her.

Wasn’t that the narrative you’d written for yourself? Wasn’t this how you always chose to punish yourself, by withholding? By pretending your silence was bred from nobility, instead of cowardice?

Your thumb trembled as you hit end call, cutting the line before you could be forgiven.

You buried your tear-streaked face in your pillows, sobbing silently, violently, surrendering at last to the war between you and sleep. Nightmares stirred on the horizon, but you didn’t care.

They, too, were to be your punishment.

•••

You woke the next morning to the grating sound of the blender and Jazmine Sullivan blaring from the kitchen. Sunlight spilled through your curtains, the sky already too bright for how you felt. It was a new day, but your emotions had yet to catch on to that fact. They clung to you, heavy and unchanged, still sour from the night before.

Your face was stiff with dried tears, your lips chapped, eyes burning from the ones you hadn’t finished shedding.

Meanwhile, your roommate Talia was in the kitchen, singing along obnoxiously to Price Tags, missing every single note in the song as if on purpose.

You reached for your phone and tapped the screen.

8:12 a.m.

“Just fucking great.”

So much for staying buried beneath your sheets all day, wallowing in deserved self-pity. You’d already planned to send Hakeem some bullshit excuse about top-secret party prep with Riri, just to get him off your back. Maybe you still would.

Riri was the whole reason you felt like this anyway, and you didn't technically have to see her until tomorrow anyway. Why not lie on her name if it bought you a sliver of peace? It was the least she could offer after completely fucking your entire sense of self. Just thinking about her now made your heart race, and that pissed you off even more than the goddamn blender rattling through the apartment. You imagined your brain caught in its blades, blending away every thought and feeling you didn't ask for.

The perfect at-home lobotomy. That was what you needed. A clean sweep. Scrape Riri off the walls of your mind, flush her out of your bloodstream. Anything to stop replaying the moment she looked at you like that.

“Tell me to stop, please… before I do something I can’t take back.”

She was pleading with you, fighting her want with everything she had. You witnessed the look in her eyes, seen her restraint tremble with every passing second.

Would you have stopped her had she leaned in? Could you have? Did you even want to?

Questions to be answered at a later date, because god dammit you had to do something about that fucking blender before it drove you up a wall.

You were on your feet seconds later, surging towards your bedroom door. You pulled it open, irritation bubbling inside your chest as you stepped through, still wrapped in your Hello Kitty blanket.

“What are you doing here?” You hissed, your voice low and venom-laced.

Talia paused the music and blinked at you from behind her smoothie cup, totally unbothered. “Huh? Oh, sorry, did I wake you? I didn’t–”

“What the hell are you doing here,” You repeated, firmer now.

“Uh… I live here?” She looked around the apartment like it might confirm her residency.

You huffed. She wasn't wrong, technically. Talia did live here, yes. But she rarely ever stayed here, and you suppose you tended to forget that from time to time. You’d gotten used to this being your space, not a shared one.

“You want a smoothie?” She offered, chipper and oblivious, “I messed up the taste on the first one, but this one’s so much better. I can make you–”

You marched forward in disbelief, approaching her like she committed treason, “Are those my strawberries? Talia, you didn't pay for these.”

“Yeah. That's why I wanted to make you a smoothie with em?” She stated like it was obvious.

You watched as she poured the pink slushy liquid into a cup, your mind wandering again imagining your brain liquefied and pulsing in the blender’s vortex. All mangled and no longer existent. If only.

Talia shoved the cup towards you, grinning as she took a sip of her own smoothie. “It's good, here try.”

“I don't want a fucking smoothie, I just want to be left alone!” You barked, louder than intended.

You were tired. Tired of people. Tired of Riri and everything her presence awakened in you. Tired of Hakeem and his smothering concern disguised as suspicion. And now, Talia. Cheerful, grating Talia, making smoothies at the ass crack of dawn like the world wasn’t crumbling beneath your feet.

Maybe this was the universe's way of telling you to get out of this apartment and abandon the memories still living in the walls, and on the couch. Flee the scene of the crime. Well, almost crime. Almost.

“Okay…” You heard Talia mumble mostly to herself, “Someone's pissy today. Is it that boyfriend again? He's always doing something to get on your nerves. And then you take it out on innocent ole me, how's that fair roomie? Hmm?”

She tossed you a look over her shoulder, but you were already walking back to your bedroom.

“Not today Talia. I’m gonna take a shower, and then I’m leaving. Then you can make all the fucking smoothies you want, wake up the whole damn building if you feel called to.”

“Works for me!” She called after you, still nauseatingly upbeat.

You rolled your eyes as you stripped out of your clothes, bitterness curdling in your chest.

Why couldn’t you have her life? Carefree. Loud. Unapologetic. She was up at 8 a.m. on a Saturday, dancing in the kitchen like nothing in the world could touch her. What could possibly be weighing her down? Surely nothing like this.

You exhaled. You’d had Enough.

You weren’t going to let today swallow you whole. No Riri. No Hakeem. No shame or questions or broken pieces.

Just you. Somewhere else, somewhere far from here.

That, at least, felt possible.

•••

You were about forty minutes into what was supposed to be a relaxing walk in the park when your phone started buzzing in your palm. The contact name flashing on the screen knocked the breath right out of you.

Mom.

The sound alone threw off your entire rhythm, your steps slowing as that familiar dread pooled in your stomach.

Why was she calling again? Last night, it was easy to ignore. You had schoolwork, you had company. Both were solid excuses to miss a call or three. But deep down, you knew you’d been dodging her longer than that. Not just because you were busy. But because the caller was her.

You didn’t want to invite her spirit into this version of your life—the one you were building far away from her. You were already struggling to keep your head above water, and the last thing you needed was her weight dragging you down.

You stopped walking and stared at the screen, watching it light up in your hand. Around you, the park carried on as if your world wasn’t tilting. Kids squealed in the distance as they raced down bike paths, a man jogged past with his golden retriever, both panting, both free. Families picnicked on blankets under shady trees, laughter floating through the warm air like the scenes you see in movies.

Except this was their real life.

And you stood in the middle of it all, cell phone buzzing in your hand, the only one not anchored in tranquility.

You thought about what Riri said last night, about her mom. How, despite their current tension, they still had a relationship. A real one. Her mom cared about her. Asked about her feelings. Wanted to understand her. Another thing that only existed in fiction for you.

You used to dream of a mom like that when you were a kid. The kind who picked you up from school and asked how your day was. Who remembered your favorite color. Who took the time to care about what you cared about. Your mom barely knew you liked robotics. Thought cars were too masculine for a girl, as if interests had a gender.

The call rang through to voicemail, and you kept walking, pace quickening like you could somehow outstep the emotions trailing behind you.

Then, sixty seconds later, the phone rang again. You inhaled sharply, stopping underneath a tree to weigh your options. Though truthfully, there wasn't much to scale. Ignore it, and make the message clear: I do not wish to speak to you, mother. But that might lead to her showing up here unannounced, and that was a nightmare you weren’t equipped to conquer.

Or answer it. Let her speak. Don’t engage, just… absorb. Like static on a TV. Let her talk until she runs out of steam, then hang up, and go back to pretending you’re an orphan.

You chose the latter. And regretted it immediately.

You didn’t even try to get the first word out.

“Was starting to think you was dead,” She said, and your eyes rolled on instinct. “Ain’t answered none of my calls in weeks.”

You sighed, already tired. “Mama, I–”

“Was fixing to come up to that school and see for myself.” She blew out her signature laugh, the one that carried no joy, just judgment masked as concern. “Then I get a call from your sister. Said you called her in the middle of the night, and she worried bout you.”

“Korin called you?” You perked up. You hadn’t anticipated her calling your mother. A weight of guilt burrowed itself deep into your chest, pressing on your ribs like wet cement, constricting your breathing until the action was no more. Korin had called her. After everything. All because you had the nerve to reach out after years of silence.

She had done the hard thing—the brave thing. And here you were, still cowering away from the monster that raised you.

“You know I ain’t heard from that girl in years,” She spat, “And she got the nerve to call me, to tell me she worried bout you.” You could tell the words tasted rancid to her, like they’d soured in her mouth before they ever left it. “So you can call her, but not me? After she abandoned us both for that… girl.”

You clenched your jaw. “Korin didn’t abandon us, Mama. She left for school.”

“Mhmm. And you just like her. Left me just the same. Some daughters I raised,” She muttered, followed by a sharp tsk that sliced through your last shred of patience.

You could feel it bubbling up, years of silence, of swallowing your truth, of letting her turn your voice into dust.

“Mama, is there a reason you called, or…?”

Your thoughts spun, no longer focused on the woman breathing heavy on the other end of the call, but on your big sister. On Korin. The girl still sticking her neck out for you and asking for nothing in return. What had that call cost her? What had it done to her spirit to dial a number she’d buried long ago, just to make sure you were okay?

Your mother cleared her throat. “Well. I was worried about you is all. A mother can’t call her own daughter now?”

You exhaled a laugh, but there was nothing funny about it. You knew her all too well. Concern had never been her motivator. But control? Always.

“You wasn’t worried about me all those months you were pretending I didn’t exist.”

The silence that followed wasn’t empty, it was loaded, and you braced for what you knew would come next.

“Why you always tryna paint me as the villain, huh?” She questioned, her voice dipping as she slipped on her wounded widow mask. “I did the best I could after your daddy died. And this the thanks I get? Both my daughters turning their backs on me.”

It worked. Your heart twisted and your throat tightened. Your mother knew just what the mention of your father would do to you. It was a nasty tactic she'd developed after his passing, but it always just... worked.

She had a way about her.

A way that made you stay longer than you should’ve. A way that made you apologize for bleeding after she cut you.

“She ruined this family,” She said next, and you knew exactly who she meant. “Korin and her nasty lifestyle. And you used to see that, used to know better. Now you up here defending her too? My god, what would your daddy think if he could see his precious little girls now. He would be rolling over in his grave!”

That did it. Something snapped in you then.

“You know the only time you ever mention my daddy is when you tryna get under my skin,” You stated, voice steady, firm, and unshaking. “That all he is to you? Some ploy to make me feel guilty for defending my sister?”

Silence.

You imagined her blinking on the other end, stunned, like the words had landed somewhere deep. Somewhere tender.

“Korin didn’t ruin this family, Mama. You did. And Daddy would be damn proud of her. Proud of both of us, for getting far, far away from you, just like he did.”

You paused, let the silence build. Then you hit her with it, “You're not a good person. My daddy had to die, just to free himself from you. How that make you feel, Mama?”

It was cruel because it had to be. And it tasted like steel on your tongue.

You waited for a response that you knew would never come, not one with words anyway. All you heard were the sharp cracks in her breathing, the tremble in her throat as her tears finally broke through. But you didn’t rush to soothe her. Not this time.

You were crying too, but not for the same reasons.

You cried because, for the first time in your life, you stood up to her. Because you had finally said the thing you were always too afraid to voice out loud. Because you had defended your sister.

You hung up while she was still crying, and for once, you didn’t care. You hoped your disregard added to her hurt. You didn’t care about softening the blow. Didn’t care about being the good daughter anymore. Didn’t care about belonging to her.

You sniffled a little as a broad smile cracked into your features. You huffed a wet laugh, drying your eyes. There was an idea in your head, a thought that made you feel empowered as you made your next decision.

It was time to do the hard thing, the way Korin had. No more deflecting, no more avoiding. No more pretending you could outrun what was already inside you.

It was time to face the entity that haunted you.

It was time to confront Riri.

•••

You stood in front of Riri’s door, frozen, eyes fixed on the whiteboard hanging crookedly on the frame. The message scribbled across it in green marker hit like a challenge.

Solve or don’t knock.

Collatz Conjecture.

3(x) - 1.

Even her boundaries were equations. It brought you back to the last time you’d stood in front of her door like this, the memory seared into your head like a scar that hadn't yet healed. The memory of her slamming the door right in your face. It was uncalled for, and rude. Your body still housed the anger from that night, a flame that lived in the corners of your chest, dormant, but you could still feel it.

Beneath it, humiliation sat heavier. She hadn't just dismissed you, no, Riri had discarded you that night. Like you were nothing…

Riri had a way of making you feel that way—like your existence was a disruption. Like wanting anything from her was an inconvenience. And still, here you were again, embarrassing yourself by showing up. She had a grip on you. That was the problem. Riri made you feel things you shouldn't. She scrambled your instincts, made your inner compass go haywire, almost to the point of giving the word a new meaning entirely.

Riri did that. To you.

And you could lie to yourself, pretend you didn’t know why. You’d already been doing that for months. But there was no use anymore. Not when your feet had carried you all the way here. Not when your heart was already beating like it knew what it wanted.

Your eyes flicked back to the crooked whiteboard again.

Solve or don't knock.

So you knocked.

And she answered.

Her gaming headset hung around her neck, controller in hand, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on her forehead. She was breathless, caught somewhere between mid-game and mid-thought, wearing loose fitting camo shorts that stopped just below her kneecaps, and a tight, form fitting black crop top that read: my mitochondria just powered up.

You almost laughed, but caught yourself. Still, she must’ve seen it in your eyes, because one corner of her mouth lifted in quiet amusement. Her hair was neatly braided into two stitch braids, and her edges were perfectly swooped.

She blinked at you, not startled, just waiting. Her gaze was steady, curious. Hopeful, even.

For a moment you two just stood there, taking each other in, not knowing what to say. You’d marched over here, high on a wave of confidence, but you hadn't thought beyond that. This was what she did to you, she made your brain stutter.

“You come over here just to stare at me from the hallway?” She asked, “Or do you wanna come in?” The side of her mouth flicked up ever so swiftly, and the butterflies in your stomach came alive.

God, how was this so easy for her? Her voice rained down on you, pulling you in and keeping you there, much like it did last night.

You wanted to smile, but you couldn't give her the satisfaction. “We need to talk.” You said plainly, following after her into her room.

Riri tossed a glance over her shoulder, casual and unreadable, like she'd already written off the conversation before it even had a chance to happen, “Oh yeah? What about?”

Being back in her room felt like stepping onto a live wire. Every nerve ending in your body was alert, burning under your skin. Your eyes swept the space, latching onto familiar landmarks, until they landed on the picture taped crookedly on the wall beside her bed.

The photo you had held once.

The frame you had broken.

And you felt more guilt than ever now, knowing what you knew about her father. You were certain it was him smiling back at you from the glossy image, arm slung around a younger Riri and the other girl you couldn’t place. A cousin, maybe, or a sister.

You swallowed the guilt clawing at your throat. This wasn’t why you came. You weren’t here to apologize.

“Well,” You began, voice clipped, “I told Hakeem we're planning a surprise party for him.”

Riri snorted, a sharp, disbelieving sound as she set her headset and controller down with a clatter. She leaned back against her desk, arms crossed over her chest, gaze sliding over you lazily. “Ain't really a surprise if he knows about it.” Her voice laced in dry amusement. “And I don’t recall any conversation about us planning shit for him. When we had time to do that?”

You ground your teeth, fists balling at your sides, “I’m aware of that, Riri. But I had to come up with something after you left. He was all suspicious and asking me questions and I-I just panicked, okay?”

She laughed again, and the sound made you want to tear the walls down. “And that's the best you could come up with? A surprise party?” She shook her head in disbelief. “You can’t even lie right.”

“Is this funny to you?” You stepped closer, chest tight. “Is everything a fucking joke to you? Are you even at all concerned about why I had to lie to my boyfriend? Why he was suspicious?”

Her smirk faltered just a little, and straightened, her voice dipping lower, more serious now. “Why'd you have to lie to your boyfriend? Hmm? What happened last night that made it necessary?”

“Tell me.” She demanded.

The room felt like it was shrinking. Riri stayed perched against the desk, but her presence was massive. Overwhelming. You could feel her breath even from where you stood, could smell the faint trace of her cologne mixing with the lingering scent of clean linen.

You clenched your fists, nails biting deep into your flesh. Your mouth opened but nothing came out. How could she ask that? How could she pretend she didn’t know when you felt her leaning in?

“Riri–”

“No,” She said sharply, “I wanna hear you say it. Tell me.”

Last night slammed into you again. The way her breath had ghosted over your lips. The way you had tilted your head without realizing. The way your whole body had screamed yes. Your heart called to hers, and you felt it respond. You watched her battle resistance. Wished she'd lose—wished she'd forfeit. And she almost did. Almost.

“Riri, you wanted to kiss me,” You whispered, hating yourself, “You almost did.”

Her laugh was brittle, almost broken, “You almost let me, you mean.”

“Wha–”

“And here you go playing clueless, as usual. You can never take accountability, can you?” Her voice was rising, and you flinched, “Never own your part in this shit. And I’m always the bad guy, always the villain in your story. And you're always the fucking damsel who can do no wrong.”

It hit harder than it should have, and your eyes were stinging. Because she wasn’t the first person to say it to you today. Your mother’s voice crawled up from the grave you had buried her in just before arriving here.

Always painting me as the villain.

“You think this is my fault?” You questioned, voice barely measured. “You think I–”

“I think you wanted to kiss me just as much as I wanted to kiss you.” Riri’s voice was trembling as you watched her fight to keep herself together.

You shook your head violently, but it was too late. She had cracked you open, and was watching the truth bleed out. “That isn't–”

“That isn't what? True? Don't fucking lie.” She chuckled darkly, “We already established you ain't good at that shit.”

You backed up a little, heart hammering against your ribs. The air in the room was thick enough to choke on. Why was she doing this? You couldn't see an outcome in this that ended with you admitting to what she claimed, so you clung to the only lifeline you had left inside you, the last thing that could save you.

“I’m not gay, Riri.” You choked out.

Because you weren't. You couldn't be.

Riri’s eyes went wild, shifting and expanding like the flames of a fervent fire, “Didn't say you were.”

“Then what is it that you want from me?” You screamed, voice splintering under the weight of it all, tears stinging your eyes but refusing to fall. “What the fuck do you want?!”

Your entire body was buzzing, and you wouldn't be surprised if your palms were bleeding, judging by how hard your nails were pressing into them right now.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. You didn’t know exactly what you expected, but it wasn’t this. You weren’t supposed to be standing in front of your boyfriend’s best friend, shaking, your vision blurring with tears, all because she could say the quiet part out loud, and you couldn’t.

All because you refused to.

Riri’s voice cracked when she answered, and her eyes dropped to the floor in shame. “Can't have what I want from you.”

“I–”

“Just wish you would stop lying to yourself and admit you want the same thing too.”

You were sobbing now, throat burning as you bathed it in your continued lie. “But I-I I don't–”

“Then why are you crying, beautiful? Why do you sound so unsure?” She took a measured step toward you, and you didn't back away. “Why do you tremble every time you deny me, like the very act is ripping you apart?”

Your knees nearly buckled under the weight of her words, “Riri don't. Please don't do this.” You pleaded, swatting at your tears angrily. “You’ve made my life hell for as long as you’ve known me. You don’t get to just change your mind now. You do not get to want me.”

Her voice was so soft when she spoke, so wounded you almost didn't hear her. “See that’s what you're not getting. I've always wanted you. I just… repressed it. I hated myself for it. I hated you for it. And I’m sorry.”

You went still. Dead still, thinking back to that night outside Hakeem’s apartment. To what she almost said. “You said I still want you…” You recounted slowly, almost afraid. “That night at Hakeem’s, you started saying it but never finished. What were you going to say?”

“I did,” She said simply. “I did finish.”

You blinked, not understanding, “What?”

“I still want you is a complete sentence.” She whispered, “And I do. Still want you. Despite how fucked all this is.”

Was she serious right now?

You couldn't breathe, couldn't steer this conversation in a direction in which you had control. So you lashed out with the only weapon you had left—anger.

“So you treated me like shit on the bottom of your fucking shoe because you… you liked me? Am I hearing that correctly?”

“Ye–”

“Are you a fucking twelve year-old boy?!” You cried out. “Because you sure as hell act like one! God, Riri, you're so damn pathetic. Like I don't even know what to say right now.”

The words cut her deep, just as you intended, good. You watched it happen. Watched her shoulders slump, saw the fire burning in her eyes flicker out and turn into resolve. She didn't fight you, and her next words made the room vibrate.

“You're right,” She croaked out, breaking for the first time, “I am pathetic.”

You could hear the rapid thrum of her heartbeat in the silence, feel the way the air quivered between you, thin and sharp like broken glass. Her eyes were glossy, and she didn't even fight the tears rolling down her cheeks. She just stood there and let them come.

Riri wasn’t even looking at you anymore. Her eyes were somewhere else, dark and clouded.

“I am sooo fucking pathetic.” She mumbled, voice hoarse. “For not admitting how I felt earlier. For lying to Keem. Lying to you. To myself. To everyone really.”

She exhaled sharply, dragging her hands down her damp face, “I thought my feelings would go away. Thought the more I saw you two together it would get easier. But that didn't happen, clearly.”

She laughed bitterly.

Your stomach twisted into knots so tight you thought you might be sick, fighting the urge to double over right here. You didn’t know how this argument turned into a full-on confession, but now here you stood, in the middle of Riri’s dorm, heart racing so fast it barely stayed caged inside your chest, trying to make sense of the things being said.

“What are you saying right now, Riri?” You questioned, desperate for her to stop, for yourself to stop listening.

But she kept going.

“I liked you first.” She confessed, as though it costed her everything to admit. “I know it doesn’t even fucking matter. But it’s my truth. I liked you the first day I saw you in class. And I knew I really liked you when I heard you speak. God, I thought you were so fucking smart. Your mind is so… wondrous.”

You were standing there, all your bones stiff and frozen, letting her words drench you.

“But before I could say anything, Hakeem told me he liked you, said you felt the same. Next thing I knew, y’all were together… and I had to be the one to eat my fucking feelings. Nothing I ain't used to, but still.”

Her voice cracked, the sound mirroring your heart.

“Obviously it didn’t work,” She laughed, shaking her head, “Because they still came out. Just… manifested into something else entirely. Something ugly. Something disgusting. I treated you like shit because I couldn’t stand seeing you with him… and not with me.”

She exhaled a shaky breath. “And there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t hate myself for it. But I couldn’t say the real thing out loud until now.”

She spread her arms helplessly. “So here we are. Here I am. Scared shitless, but at least it’s out.”

You blinked at her, dumbstruck.

She liked you first. She liked you fucking first?!

Like this was some sick competition for your heart. Like the outcome was ever supposed to be different—like it was ever supposed to be anyone but Hakeem.

Heat rose under your skin, the betrayal sinking into the tender area like teeth. “And what am I supposed to do with this confession, Riri?”

She swallowed, “I don't know.”

“Goddamn you Riri!” You cried, shaking your head vehemently as your disbelief warred with rage. “God fucking damn you, you fucking selfish asshole! You don't give a damn about the lives you ruin! You just do, because your selfish deluded brain tells you to. And now what? I’m supposed to go back to my boyfriend—your best friend—and act like you never said any of this to me?”

You were flailing now, no longer stuck in one position, your anger cascading out of you like a waterfall continuously replenishing itself.

Riri was silent for a beat, just cutting her eyes at you, danger evident in their swills.

And then,

“You're not fucking innocent either, Miss ‘I’m not gay.’” She threw back, shrinking the distance between you. “How bout we finally talk about your part in this. I aired my shit out, let's talk about you.”

“I'm not the one imploding my fucking relationship here, Riri. I'm not the one–”

Riri let her lips curl into a sick smirk, “Aren't you though?” She snarled, like she had something to prove. “You let me touch you. You let me breathe you in so deep, I was able to taste you. You did that. And you fucking liked it.”

“Every time I got too close,” She continued, “You could've stopped me, but you never did. Never told me no. You just kept coming back.”

Her words punched the air right out of your lungs.

“That's why you're here, isn't it? She said, voice accusing. “That's why you're standing here right now, going back and forth with me. Because you know what this is. And I need you to be fucking real with yourself.”

You refuted her claims, but she was already dragging the truth out of you piece by piece, without you even having to admit to anything outright.

“Because I can be real with myself. I have feelings for my best friend's girl—for you,” She declared, without missing a beat. “Feelings that ain't going away. And I don’t want them to go away because I wanna act on them. I wanna kiss you, touch you. I wanna– mmm.”

Riri was close enough to touch you if she truly wanted to. Her hands hovered in front of your face, almost reaching to cup it, to dry your eyes with her thumbs. But she didn't. She stopped herself before she went any further. Then she pulled back with a grunt. One deep in her gut—angry, frustrated, repressed. All three wrapped into one.

Your heart slammed against your chest, practically clawing itself out with a knife. All bloody, and forceful, and fucking excruciating, oh God. You were barely perceiving the walls of Riri’s dorm anymore, ears tuning out the lo-fi beat coming from her tv. Were you even lucid?

But she wasn't done. “And that makes me better than you.” She spat, voice riddled with emotion. “You said you wanted to talk, but you ain't said shit that mean anything. Just throwing around accusations like you always do when you really should be pointing the finger at yourself.”

You blinked, face wet, throat dry.

“I can admit I’m a shitty person,” Riri huffed, slamming her chest into yours, forcing you to feel her erratic heartbeat. The faint trace of her cologne mingled with your signature vanilla fragrance, heating your senses and expanding your pores as your body absorbed them both. “Can you?”

You stumbled back a step, nearly tripping over the air itself.

“I don’t have to take this shit from you, Riri,” You barked, hating how your voice broke at the edges.

“Then don’t,” She snapped. “Fucking go. You came here just to play in my face anyway. So just save us both any more embarrassment, and just go.”

For once, you would listen the first time, without argument.

“Hakeem is still expecting a party. You know, my boyfriend, your best friend? Yeah, him. So there's that.” You managed to choke out.

And then you left her room without another word. You just turned on your heel, tears already slipping down your burning cheeks, and walked away. You didn’t look back. Not even when you heard the faint hitch of her breathing behind you. Not even when your heart screamed at you to stay.

You fucking hated her. But you hated yourself more.

Because deep down, under all the fury and the confusion, you wished things were different. You wished you hadn’t cared about what people would think. You wished you could reach across the room, grab her by the stupid collar of that stupid t-shirt, and kiss her until you both forgot how fucked this all was.

You wished you could be a different person entirely. Someone braver. Someone more deserving of this messy, burning thing between you. But you weren’t.

You were you.

And you were still standing here, heart wrecked, soul split in two, wishing you had never known what it felt like to want something you could never have.

That's why running away made sense. You stormed out of her room with tear-streaked cheeks and shaking hands, barely aware of where you were headed until you collided with someone at the end of the hall.

Shea butter and cinnamon wrapped around you, warm and familiar and devastating.

“Woah! You alright there beautiful?”

Zariyah.

You could’ve collapsed right into her arms. It would’ve been so easy. Her aura was always so inviting, so soft, so convincing. But you couldn’t. Not when everything you were carrying had someone else’s name stitched into it. So you pushed past her, the scent of cinnamon clinging to your clothes like guilt.

“I’m fine,” You mumbled, willing your voice not to crack.

You knew she wouldn’t follow you. Of course she wouldn’t. Not when the reason she was even here was in the complete opposite direction.

You jammed your finger against the elevator button, willing it to move faster. Your reflection blurred in the steel doors, eyes red, face a mess. By the time the doors slid open and you stumbled inside, the sobs broke free.

Messy, raw, helpless. You didn’t know who you were mad at. Riri, for making you feel this way. Yourself, for letting her. Your mother, for making you terrified of being anything other than what she wanted. Or Hakeem, for being too good, too steady, too innocent in all this, while you spiraled into someone unrecognizable.

You were furious at all of them.

But mostly, you were furious at yourself. Because no matter how hard you tried to hate Riri, no matter how hard you tried to scrub her from your thoughts, it was too late because she had tainted you. You wanted her, craved her like she was your vice. And like her, those feelings weren’t going away.

The elevator dinged and you stumbled out into the lobby, wiping at your soaked face with trembling hands. The question now wasn’t if you felt something. It wasn’t even why.

It was:

What the hell were you going to do about it?

#cai’s recs #lyric baby! we love you #riri williams x reader #riri x reader #YES GAWD

125 notes · View notes