6. "I'm Not Giving Up" | Riri Williams X Reader

6. "I'm not giving up" | Riri Williams x Reader

Summary: Can you build a future when your girlfriend is still looking back?

Rating: Mature (due to language)

Genre: Romance, angst

Word Count: 533

A/N: So we have made it to Day 6 of Fictober! Everyone seemed to want the drabble from yesterday to continue, which I agree is a good idea. I'll keep the word count low so I can continuously update this alongside the other stories I'm working on. Feedback always appreciated <3

Taglist: @lyfeofbilly @prettymrswright @onyxstones-world @pvnks0ul

You stood at the sink, scrubbing the dishes from another long day, but your mind wasn’t on the soap suds or the dull hum of the kitchen lights. No, you were replaying the conversation with Riri over and over. You'd told her it was enough for now, but in truth, things weren’t fine.

The pay from the dental office was short again—second time this month. You could barely cover rent, let alone the bills that kept stacking up. Going to your evening dental assistant program was the only thing that gave you a sense of hope, but even that was wearing you down.

Riri walked into the kitchen, leaning against the counter, watching you with that sharp, calculating gaze of hers. "You ain't told me how work was today."

You shook your head, gripping the sponge tighter. "Same as always. Pay was short again."

Riri scoffed. "The fuck? We supposed to keep living like this? You finna let them keep punking you out your money like that, Ma?"

"Riri, I don't have time for another job right now. I'm going to school every night—"

"Yeah, for that certificate shit," Riri interrupted, folding her arms. "Look, I get it. You got dreams. That's cute, real cute, but at this rate, you finna be working these bullshit jobs for the next ten years just to pay off the student loans. And where that leave us? Still scraping by."

You put the plate down, wiping your hands on a rag as you turned to face her. “I’m not giving up. You think scrubbing toilets and mopping floors is easy? I’m doing everything I can.”

Riri sighed, running a hand over her face. "I ain't saying you not, but you gotta see reality, baby. If things don’t start looking up soon, I might have no choice but to go back to my old ways."

Your chest tightened. “What you tryna say?"

"I'm saying, I can hold us down," she said softly, but there was a hardness in her voice. "But I ain’t about to sit here and watch you kill yourself over chump change. We got options. I’m not letting us starve just 'cause you wanna play by the rules."

You took a deep breath, trying to steady the frustration bubbling up. “Riri, I’m not about to throw away everything I’m working for just ‘cause things are rough right now. I know it’s hard, but we can’t go back. Not now.”

Riri stepped closer, her voice lowering. "And what if you don’t make it through that program? What if they keep shorting your checks? You ever think about that?"

You swallowed, feeling the weight of her words, but you held your ground. "I’m making it through. One day. I’mma even get a degree. I’ll get there, Riri. I just need time."

She studied you for a moment, then nodded, but you could still see the tension in her brown eyes. "Aight, I hear you. But if things don’t change soon, we gon’ need a different plan. I love you, but I can't sit still forever."

You watched her walk out of the kitchen, her words lingering in the air like a storm cloud that hadn't quite passed.

Too Intense

Pairing: Shuri Udaku x F!Reader

Warning: Y'all gone hate me cause Shuri rude asf. You have been warned. I'm actually tryna hurt yall feelins. Angst.

Word Count: 1.1k+

Summary/Request: Toxic!Shuri. That's it.

Author’s Note: I wrote this a while ago but I wasn't too sure about it. I tweaked it a bit and now i'm in love. Lmk if yall wanna be on my taglist. Love yall

Taglist: @blkgworlamplified @wakanda-forever-andotherfandoms @theblacksuccubus

The cold, sterile smell of the hospital was almost too familiar by now, a stark reminder of the pain and confusion that had become a constant in your life. Shuri had been rough with you during a training session. Her strength, normally a reassuring presence, had become uncomfortably overbearing, and you found yourself sidelined in the hospital for a few nights on many different occasions. The bruises and aches were secondary to the emotional turmoil of being so close to her yet so far away.

When you were finally released, the confrontation you dreaded sought you out. Shuri had locked herself in her room, unable—or rather unwilling—to face you. Her absence was a silent scream of regret and discomfort, and you could feel the coldness of her avoidance cutting through the air. Her usual self-assured demeanor had cracked, revealing a vulnerability she refused to acknowledge.

Her newfound lack of empathy was one of the hardest things to endure. Shuri often acted as if her own hardships were so monumental that nothing could compare. It became a habit for her to dismiss your struggles with an almost casual cruelty. “Wow. It’s so sad you argue with your mom every day. Where’s mine? Oh, right. I’m done listening,” she would say, brushing off your pain with a shrug. It was as if your problems were trivial compared to the grand scale of her own trials.

This lack of empathy extended to how she handled your relationship, particularly when it came to her interactions with RiRi. Shuri was constantly talking about how beautiful RiRi was, her voice dripping with deliberate poison, meant to provoke jealousy and rage. Despite her attempts to downplay it, her actions spoke volumes. The tension built until it reached a breaking point. One night, the emotional strain pushed you too far and you lashed out at her with every fiber of your being. It was a desperate act of frustration and pain, the culmination of feeling constantly belittled and manipulated.

Shuri looked you dead in the eyes after that you spoke out against her behavior, her gaze cold and unwavering. “You aren’t more important than my work or anyone else in my life,” she said with an icy calm tone. “If you can’t handle that, then you should just leave me alone. Spend the money I give you and keep quiet.” The words cut deep, and the gesture that followed—a transfer of two million dollars to your account—was a bitter reminder of her ability to detach from you emotionally while trying to compensate with financial means. The way she used money as a substitute for emotional connection only deepened the rift between the two of you. Her financial generosity was supposed to be a balm for the wounds she inflicted, but it only served as a stark reminder of how transactional your relationship had become. The many millions of dollars she has transferred to you over the years were a testament to her belief that money could mend what her words and actions had shattered.

Her refusal to even be intimate with you became a weapon she wielded with precision. One morning, you had simply greeted the Dora Milaje with a soft “hi,” and Shuri’s reaction was swift and harsh. “I didn’t like the way you spoke to them,” she declared, her tone final. “No sex tonight. Matter fact, don't touch me for a week.” The punishment felt petty and unjust, a way for her to reassert her control and punish you for perceived slights.

The physical and emotional barriers she built were sometimes more painful than the wounds from training sessions. Her constant criticism, whether it was about your strength or my interactions with others, was a manifestation of her own insecurities. She projected her frustrations onto you, making every exchange feel like a test of endurance rather than a moment of genuine connection.

The dynamic between you often felt like a constant struggle for validation. Shuri’s embarrassment over your perceived lack of strength was another cruel twist in the relationship. “Tighten up, what is the hell is the matter with you,” she’d scold, her impatience palpable. It was as if your struggles were a reflection of her own inadequacies and oh did she despised seeing you falter.

Shuri’s refusal to acknowledge her role in your issues, combined with her tendency to gaslight and dismiss every feeling you expressed, left you reeling. Her actions, from the callous remarks about any family issues to the cruel mind games she played with RiRi, spoke of someone who was deeply conflicted but unwilling to confront her own shortcomings.

Each time you thought you'd find a moment of understanding or solace in one another, Shuri would retreat back into her fortress of self-righteousness and emotional detachment. It was as if she viewed the relationship as a battleground, where the stakes were high and the only victory was maintaining control. Any attempts to address these issues were met with her trademark dismissal or cold logic.

In moments of clarity, you could see the cracks in her armor—the fleeting glimpses of vulnerability and the rare admissions of her own struggles. Yet, these moments were always fleeting, quickly buried under layers of her self-imposed duty and mental barricades. It was a dance between pain and disillusion, where love was twisted into a weapon rather than a source of comfort.

As you navigated the choppy waters of your relationship, it became clear that Shuri was trapped in her own cycle of paranoia and denial. Her inability to balance her personal and professional lives, combined with her tendency to prioritize her work over the connection you two once nurtured, created a volatile environment where genuine affection was often overshadowed by power struggles and emotional manipulation.

The realization of how deeply she was embedded in her own worldview left you grappling with your own emotions. You had to come to terms with the fact that your attempts to reach her or change the situation was no longer necessary. The love you once shared had become a thorn in your side. The high stakes were not just your feelings but your very sense of self-worth and emotional stability.

In the end, you were left to decipher the complexity of your union, trying to find a way to either bridge the gap or finally accept that this cycle of emotional manipulation and control was unsustainable. The journey was marked by moments of intense passion and deep pain, a testament to the intricate and often destructive nature of your once sacred connection. The combination of emotional distance, scheming, and outright cruelty created a relationship that was as painful as it was complex.

7. "follow me if you want to live." | Janelle Monáe x Reader

Summary: A cozy night in with your lady <3.

Rating: PG

Genre: Romance, fluff

Word Count: 243

A/N: Wow, we've already made it through a full week of October. I think it has felt nice prioritizing this little hobby of mine these days. The past few months have been particularly stressful for me, and this community has been a perfect escape. I hope you all are enjoying reading these stories as much as I enjoy writing them.

Taglist: @lyfeofbilly @prettymrswright @onyxstones-world

You were stretched out on the couch, your legs tangled with Janelle’s as the soft glow of the TV flickered in the dark room. She was next to you, completely locked in on Detroit: Become Human, her fingers gliding over the controller like she’d done it a million times. You were trying to keep up, but honestly, it felt like she was always two steps ahead.

“Princess,” she said suddenly, her voice low but playful. She didn’t even look away from the screen. “You’re gonna have to follow me if you want to live.”

You laughed, fumbling with the controller as your character rushed after hers. “I’m trying! You’re too fast.”

Janelle grinned, her warm brown eyes still fixed on the game. “You panic under pressure. It’s cute.”

“Cute?” you shot back, bumping your shoulder into hers, though your heart was racing a little faster now. “I’m trying to save us.”

Her laugh filled the room, and for a second, it didn’t even matter that the game was getting intense. You glanced over at her, the way she was so calm and in control, the mischievous smile tugging at her lips. It was impossible not to get caught up in how effortlessly she made everything fun.

And for a moment, as the game continued to flash across the screen, all you could focus on was her—the way her laughter wrapped around you, making everything feel like it was exactly where it should be.

Writers should NOT feel guilty about:

Skipping a day of writing.

Not having a perfect first draft.

Partaking in sinister, arcane rituals for inspiration.

Working at their own pace.

Enlisting demons and/or helpful spirits to aid them with editing.

Boom Boom Pow

I love being a fan girl. Just me and my fanfiction against the world.