being a fangirl helps no one

They're finally here! After much ✨ pain and suffering ✨, Rose Pine skins have finally arrived. Credits to the lovely @zerafinacss for the original neos skin, which forms the bulk of the codebase.

Installation instructions can be found on AO3 or Github.

I'll likely keep updating these and I'm open to adding more variations (cool-toned palette anyone?). If you notice any issues, feel free to drop a comment on AO3 or Github.

For now, I just needed to get these out into the world so they would stop consuming all of my energy. One can only hyperfixate on tag colors so much!

pairing: shuri udaku x riri williams

word count: 5.4k

summary: from the moment they met, sixteen year old shuri udaku and riri williams hated each other. but when a night of reckless underage drinking spirals out of control, the bitter girls are thrust into a situation where putting aside their differences might be the only way to escape serious trouble.

contains: violence, underage drinking, teenage girls being messy asf

a/n: tried something new to ✨hopefully✨ get me over this annoying ass writers block 🙏🏽 don’t worry, i haven’t forgotten my other fics. i promise they’ll be updated soon. for now, here’s some petty teenage drama to keep y’all entertained ;)

tag list: @inmyheadimobsessed @mitchesmoon @criaaturaa @roseamongroses @glimreaperss @mariquitaaa @riris-heart @impinkalicious @supersteel13 @ashleighshaw

i.

The music was already shaking the walls as Riri Williams gripped another red solo cup, nearly empty, and chugged its contents with practiced ease. The taste was foul, bitter with flat carbonation, but the crowd around her made it worth every second. They whooped and hollered as she stood balanced on one leg atop a rickety wooden stool, her other leg bent sharply at the knee. Her hand remained steady as she tipped her head back and drained the last of the warm beer. She tossed it aside with a flourish, smirking at the sound of it clattering against the patio concrete.

The boy who had challenged her—some white kid from the North Side with too much confidence and not enough coordination—wobbled on his own stool before toppling forward. He landed on the ground with a curse, soaking his shirt with spilled beer. The roar that erupted from the back porch was deafening.

“Riri wins again!”

“South Side champ, let’s go!”

She raised her arms in triumph, laughing as her best friend Natalie walked up beside her, clapping and cheering.

“Six in a row! Girl, you’re on fire!” Natalie crowed, brushing her microbraids from her face.

Riri threw her head back and smiled wide — the kind of wicked grin that dared anyone else to step up and take her on. Her cornrows were twisted back into two low buns, her cheeks warm from the rush of alcohol and adrenaline. The victory felt good. Summer was almost over, and school would be starting back up in just a few days. But tonight was about nothing but reckless teenage fun.

Before Riri could toss back a smart response, her eyes snagged on something—someone—who’d just stepped out onto the back porch a couple feet away. Her smile faltered for the briefest second—then widened into something sharper, meaner, almost predatory. Because standing just outside the sliding glass doors was a person she hadn’t expected to see here in a million years.

Shuri Udaku.

Perfect, pristine, untouchable Shuri Udaku.

Even in the half-light of the patio bulbs, Riri knew that face instantly. Could’ve picked it out in a crowd twice as thick. Those braids pulled perfectly back, that sharp chin lifted just a little too high, that same air of entitlement Riri remembered all too well. She was dressed down compared to the photos Riri had seen of her online or in the background of pop up news ads — no silk gowns or glittering jewelry, but even in jeans and a fitted top she screamed money. Old money. Family money.

Riri’s eyes slid past Shuri to the girl at her shoulder — Nakia. She knew her by sight, had caught glimpses of her at a couple parties before. The kind where music shook the neighborhood and nobody cared what your last name was. Unlike the rest of Shuri’s polished circle, Nakia had always struck Riri as easygoing — more comfortable with a beer bottle at a block party than a champagne glass at some uptown gala. She had a year on them and was dating Shuri’s older brother T’Challa (which carried its own kind of weight). But even with her renowned social status, Nakia was laid-back, down to earth, and never acted like she was above anybody. If Shuri was here tonight, dripping in arrogance and superiority, Riri figured it was only because Nakia had talked her into coming.

The thought made her smirk curve deeper. The heiress was clearly out of her element, and Riri could already smell the chance to knock her down a peg.

Again.

Shuri stood there like she was slumming it, like she’d just wandered out of a different galaxy and wasn’t sure she wanted to stay. And the kicker? She recognized Riri too. She knew her. The flicker of distaste that crossed her face the moment their eyes locked made that obvious.

Riri hopped down from the stool, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and ignoring Natalie’s muttered, “Uh oh.” Her saunter towards Shuri was slow and unhurried, hips loose, a challenge in every step as she crossed the patio with the crowd’s attention still hot on her back. Natalie trailed behind her, already frowning because she remembered what happened the last time these two had crossed paths.

Shuri’s jaw clenched, but she didn’t retreat. She moved with purpose, each step calculated, her poise unbroken. She descended the last porch step and onto the patio, letting the crowd’s chatter hush just slightly in her wake. As always, she carried herself like she owned the space, an aura of command that came as naturally as breathing. Taller than Riri by a few inches, she used that height, straightening just enough to remind anyone watching of the difference. That kind of confidence didn’t come from winning dumb drinking games on back porches; it came from knowing your last name was stamped on the world’s biggest tech empire.

But Riri wasn’t impressed. Never had been. And what she lacked in inches, she more than made up for in attitude. The two teens stopped directly in front of each other — barely a foot of space between them. Natalie stood close at Riri’s back, expression wary but loyal, while Nakia shadowed Shuri, clearly ready to step in if things turned sour.

Riri tilted her head, dark eyes locking onto Shuri’s with an expression equal parts smug and taunting.

“Well, look who it is.” she drawled, letting the words drip with mocking familiarity. Slow, low, and dangerous.

The tension was immediate, a wall of static between them. Shuri’s eyes narrowed further, but she said nothing yet. The noise of the party seemed to fade, replaced by a thick, electric silence. Everyone on the porch felt it, though most pretended not to notice, sipping their drinks and sneaking glances.

Because this wasn’t their first meeting.

Not even close.

The memory of the last time they’d stood face-to-face flashed between them, unspoken.

ii.

Late June, Over A Month Ago

The roller rink was always crowded on summer nights, its neon lights buzzing faintly overhead, the floor alive with the hum of rolling wheels and old-school hip-hop beats bouncing from the speakers. Riri loved it here — it was one of the few places where she could relax, mess around with Natalie and her younger brother Xavier, and not think too hard about life waiting for her outside.

That night, she was laughing at something Xavier had said, gliding backward toward the concessions stand to grab a refill. Her focus was half on the joke, half on not spilling the soda in her cup. She glanced over her shoulder once, saw a space clear behind her, and drifted.

She didn’t see the other girl.

The bump was modest. Not hard, but enough that her soda sloshed over the rim slightly and left faint drops across the fabric of the girl’s blouse.

“My bad,” Riri said quickly, turning around, voice casual but genuine.

The girl spun, eyes blazing.

“Watch where you’re going!” she snapped. Her accent was crisp, aristocratic, every syllable sharp as glass.

She had that kind of striking, almost regal beauty that made Riri pause without meaning to — the kind of prettiness that made other girls straighten their spine without knowing why. Sculptured cheekbones lit up under the neon, perfect braids beveled against her skull like a crown, eyes that could have sold diamonds. Her posture screamed self-possession. The two girls flanking her, both tall and athletic, reached out like synchronized swimmers to steady her.

“Chill, princess. It was an accident,” Riri replied, making sure her voice didn’t bend into shrinking. She glanced at the blouse. Designer. Expensive. A shade of a violet so rich it made the arcade glow look cheap. There were a few dots, tiny constellations, barely staining the fabric. “It’s not even noticeable.”

The girl’s gaze sharpened. “This top is Hanifa.”

Riri squinted at her. “Okay?” Then she tilted her chin, the corner of her mouth quirking. “So what’s the problem? You’re loaded. Just buy another one. Or is your allowance runnin’ short this week?” She took another sip of soda, deliberately casual.

A flicker crossed the girl’s face — offense, then something like boredom squeezing the offense to a smaller size. She muttered to her friends in Xhosa, melodic and quick — “Liqaqa eli,” (riff-raff) — and both of them broke into uncharitable laughter.

Riri didn’t understand the language, but she caught the tone—dismissive, superior. She slid her tongue against her upper teeth to keep a reply from breaking out too hot.

The girl shot one last look, the kind that said “I am choosing to be done with this”, then pushed off, gliding with the frictionless elegance of someone who moved through life like the floor was tilted in their favor. Her entourage followed, interlacing their fingers as they skated away.

“Who the hell was that?” Natalie breathed, stepping into the vacuum left by their departure.

“Shuri Udaku,” Xavier said knowingly, because of course he would know. “Her family owns like half the tech in the country. Maybe the world. They got that campus near the lake, the one that looks like it landed from space.”

Riri rolled her eyes. “And?” She crinkled her cup and took another sip. The soda had that syrupy bite that left a cold sting behind her nose.

“And nothing,” Xavier said. “Just… be nice. Rich people got security like the Secret Service.”

Natalie snorted. “If security was gonna roll up on anybody, it would’ve been at the entrance when you tried to sneak in with those expired coupons.”

They laughed, and the heat in Riri’s chest unwound. The insult slid to the back shelf of her mind, right next to other stupid stares and comments that didn’t get to live rent-free. She wasn’t going to let some uptown rich bitch with a princess complex ruin her night.

Hours later, after returning their skates, Riri and the Washington siblings were sitting on a bench lacing up their sneakers. A few feet away, Aneka—one of Shuri’s friends who looked like she could bench press somebody’s boyfriend—bent over to re-tie one of her skates. Her purse sat open next to her. She checked something inside, frowned, patted around, then tipped the bag and rummaged. Her frown deepened.

“My phone,” Aneka muttered, loud enough for the words to carry. She checked under the bench, then again in her bag. Nothing.

Ayo skated up, brows pinched as she crouched down beside her girlfriend. “It’s not in there?”

“I put it in the side pocket,” Aneka said, frustrated. “It’s gone.”

At the same moment, Riri stood up, slinging her worn tote over her shoulder, ready to head out with Natalie and Xavier. They’d gotten their shoes back on and were already moving toward the exit.

Until a commanding voice cracked behind them, slicing through the air.

“You! Stop.”

Riri froze mid-step. She didn’t even have to turn around to know who it belonged to. Shuri Udaku. Her stomach twisted, not from guilt but from the sour memory of their earlier clash.

She whipped around, scowling. “The hell you talkin’ to?”

“You,” Shuri said, posture stiff and eyes narrowed. She glided toward the trio, wheels hissing quietly against the floor. Her gaze flicked down, not so subtly, toward the opening of Riri’s bag before snapping back to her face.

“My friend’s phone is missing,” Shuri said evenly.

Riri’s eyes drifted past her, catching sight of Ayo and Aneka still searching around the bench. She snorted, flat. “Sucks for her.”

“You were closest to her bag when it went missing,” Shuri continued, authoritative. “Open yours. Just to rule it out.”

For a second Riri just stared, incredulous at Shuri’s audacity.

Her mouth fell open. “Are you freakin’ serious right now?”

“I am serious,” Shuri stated, calm, precise, clinical. “You were closest. You had the most time in reach. It is the most obvious conclusion.“

Riri’s chest heated instantly, disbelief bleeding into fury. “You really just accuse me of stealing?”

“I did not accuse,” Shuri replied coolly. “I laid out the sequence. You were there. The phone was there. Now it isn’t. Any logical person would suspect the same.”

Before Riri could clap back, Natalie stepped forward, eyes fierce. “Suspect? Girl, cut the crap. You rolled up here on your high horse already convinced she was a thief, just too stuck-up to say it out loud.”

Shuri ignored her completely.

Her expression remained cold and unyielding. “If I am wrong, I will apologize.”

“If you’re wrong?” Riri shot back. “Miss me with that fake-ass politeness. You didn’t come to ask—you came to point fingers.”

Natalie stepped in close, her glare fixed hard on Shuri as her hand brushed Riri’s arm—a quiet reminder to hold it together before she lost it herself. Xavier mirrored her, angling his body between Riri and Shuri just slightly, a shield if things got ugly.

But Ayo and Aneka had come over now, closing ranks just behind Shuri. Shoulders squared, eyes hard, they radiated a quiet menace that would’ve made most people back down. Riri caught it, felt the weight of it pressing, and still refused to give an inch.

“You know what this feels like?” she laughed, bitter and humorless. “Feels like you decided the easiest answer is me. Because I don’t look like you. Because I’m not walking around in designer clothes with two bodyguards. Because—”

“That is not what this is,” Shuri snapped, color rising in her cheeks. “This is logic. That is all.”

Riri scoffed. “Logic, huh? You sure it’s not just your ego talking?”

The words landed. Shuri stiffened, eyes narrowing further. “You are wasting everyone’s time. If you have nothing to hide, then why—”

“Because I don’t owe you a damn thing!” Riri shouted, taking an angry step closer.

A ripple of whispers stirred from the nearby crowd. Teenagers had started to circle, sensing the tension. Phones lifted discreetly, recording.

Shuri’s heart beat faster. She hated the eyes, hated losing control of the narrative. She told herself she was doing this for Aneka, but some small, buried part of her knew she didn’t like being challenged—especially not by this girl who met her stare without flinching.

“I am trying to be fair,” Shuri said, her voice clipped. “You are the only variable that makes sense. Refusing only makes you look guilty.”

“Hell no,” Riri shook her head, furious. “You don’t get to put me on trial ‘cause your friend can’t keep track of her phone. My bag’s staying closed.”

“Then perhaps the manager,” Shuri said, nodding toward the office. “We can settle it properly.”

The way she said it—polite, composed—only poured more fuel on Riri’s fire. Like Shuri was doing her a favor, like she was so damn reasonable.

Riri’s temper broke. “Man, you got some nerve—you don’t know me, princess. I didn’t steal shit! Let’s be real—you slapped a label on me the second I messed up that overpriced napkin you call a shirt, and now your bougie ass is just itching to paint me as a criminal.”

Shuri’s jaw flexed, her tone turning harsh. “You spill drinks. You shove people. You snap at strangers. Why should I assume your behavior suddenly improves when no one is watching? Uncouth conduct tends to be consistent.”

The insult cut through her, clean and cruel. A couple kids near the benches stifled laughter.

Riri’s lip curled. “Uncouth? Girl, you talk like a textbook nobody wants to read. Keep throwin’ them syllables around ‘cause I know you ain’t brave enough to throw hands.”

There was a low, obnoxious chorus of “ooohs” but neither girl so much as blinked. They might as well have been alone.

Natalie edged a subtle step ahead of Riri while Xavier shifted his weight again, attempting to create a thicker wall of space between the two groups. Meanwhile, Aneka shifted closer to Shuri, eyes sharp, body angled protectively. Ayo stood like steel on her other side, arms lifted slightly, her stance a quiet warning.

But Shuri merely tilted her head, a portrait of unbothered indifference.

“Resorting to violence so quickly? How primitive. Some of us were taught better — how to settle disputes without raising our fists. But clearly no one ever bothered teaching you that, did they?”

Riri’s nostrils flared. “And clearly no one ever bothered teaching you how to be a decent human being. I’m too busy living out in the real world while you’re nothing but a spoiled brat dressin’ up condescension as character.”

“And you’re nothing but noise,” Shuri returned, her words laced with ice. “You think crude insults make you sound clever. They only remind everyone you have no class. But then, I suppose manners are harder to come by when you never had them to begin with.”

That one stung — class wasn’t just about money. It was about how the words made the crowd look at her. Riri’s eyes burned, her voice rising hot.

“Class?” she spat, raw and vicious. She stepped even closer until there was barely a hand’s span between them. “Girl, you wouldn’t know substance if it snatched that fake-ass crown off your head. You hide behind big words and a last name, and you still ain’t shit without either.”

The crowd gave a low collective gasp, the kind that meant phones were definitely up now, recording every second. Shuri didn’t flinch, but the way her breath hitched just slightly betrayed the hit. For Riri, that was enough — a win, even if only for a second.

“Ri,” Natalie’s voice broke through the tense silence, sharp and urgent. She grabbed Riri’s arm, tugging her back. “Come on. Not worth it.”

“Let’s bounce, sis,” Xavier added, his hand closing around Riri’s shoulder, pulling her subtly toward the exit. His voice was steady, but his eyes never left Ayo and Aneka, who were glaring daggers over Shuri’s shoulders.

Riri huffed through her nose, heat still rolling through her chest, but let Natalie and Xavier coax her back. She was fuming, her pulse pounding, but walking away was at least better than giving Shuri another reason to look down on her.

But Shuri couldn’t leave it. Her pride was stung too deep, her certainty in Riri’s guilt gnawing at her like teeth. Acting without thought wasn’t like her — rare, reckless, beneath the control she prided herself on.

And yet — in a surge of heedless impulse — she reached out and snatched at the strap of Riri’s bag as the girl turned.

The tug jerked Riri sideways. She froze for half a second, shock flashing across her face before pure rage boiled over. Her blood surged hot, adrenaline crashing through her veins.

“Get off me, bitch!”

She whirled around, eyes hard as steel, and shoved Shuri back with all her strength.

Shuri—on wheels—never stood a chance. She completely lost her balance as her body catapulted backwards. She staggered—arms flailing before her skates slid out from under her and she crashed down hard to the floor. The slap of her palms and the crack of her hip echoed sharp, followed by the sick thud of her head hitting the ground. Her bracelet snapped on impact, beads flying everywhere like spilled marbles, rolling under the skates of gawking onlookers. Her purse spilled open, its contents—lip balm, cellphone, money clip—skidding in different directions.

Shuri’s hand instantly flew to the back of her skull, pain tightening her features into a grimace. And for just a flicker of a moment, Riri’s stomach dropped. For half a second, her rage faltered—something fleeting, almost regretful, flashing through her chest. But the anger burned hotter, smothering it entirely.

Aneka was the first to move, skates slicing across the floor as she dropped to her side. “Shuri!”

But Ayo didn’t hesitate, already in motion.

She barreled into Riri, shoulder driving into her gut with bone-jarring force. Ayo moved quicker in skates than most people do in sneakers, tackling Riri straight off her feet. They landed hard, the crack of impact echoing throughout the rink. Air punched out of Riri’s chest as her back smacked the slick ground. Pain shot up her spine—leaving her gasping, breathless.

The crowd lost it—screaming, jumping, phones snapping up higher, all angling for a better shot.

“RI!” Natalie shrieked, throwing herself at Ayo’s back and trying to tear her off.

Xavier jumped in too, attempting to pry the older girl’s arms away from where they pinned Riri’s shoulders. But Ayo was strong, her grip iron-tight. Neither sibling could move her.

Desperate, Natalie grabbed a fistful of Ayo’s ponytail and yanked. Hard.

Ayo let out a sharp sound, twisting around in rage. She spun, fist raised, no longer looking at Riri—only Natalie. But before the punch could land, Xavier jumped in front of his sister.

The fist connected with his jaw instead. The crack snapped through the air. Xavier staggered, a bruise already blooming dark beneath his skin.

“XA!” Natalie cried, catching him as he crumpled to the floor.

Teeth clenched, Riri—seeing Ayo’s back turned now—hauled herself off the floor and lunged. She slammed into Ayo, sending her stumbling forward in her skates. Ayo lost her footing and went down, Riri crashing on top of her.

But Aneka was there in an instant. She rose from Shuri’s side and yanked Riri off her girlfriend like she weighed nothing. Lifting her clean into the air, Aneka hurled her aside with a force that sent Riri sliding across the floor.

The rink was in utter chaos—laughter, shouting, chants, and cheers all mixed together. Dozens of phones hovered now, filming, snapping, immortalizing every second.

Aneka’s focus was locked solely on Ayo now, rushing to help her up. She didn’t even notice where she’d tossed Riri.

Riri’s body skidded, rolling—straight into Shuri, who had just managed to get halfway upright. The collision knocked her off balance again. She slipped on her skates and crashed back down with a cry, Riri landing partly on top of her.

“GET OFF ME YOU LOWLIFE!” Shuri screamed, shoving furiously at her.

“WHO THE FUCK YOU CALLIN’ A LOWLIFE?!” Riri yelled back, forcing her weight down harder.

For five hot seconds the two of them scrapped on the ground, the fight raw and graceless. Shuri tried to sit up beneath Riri’s weight, shoving hard at her shoulder. In the motion her elbow swung wide and cracked against the side of Riri’s head. The sharp pain made Riri’s vision spark white for a second.

Snarling, Riri’s hand shot into Shuri’s braids and yanked hard. Shuri shrieked, the sound sharp and panicked, before Riri dragged her roughly back down and slammed her head against the ground.

Riri dug a knee into Shuri’s stomach, pinning her flat against the floor. A loud, pained noise escaped Shuri’s throat as her body curled against the pressure. Riri pulled back, winding to land a blow, but Shuri’s hands shot up—gripping her arm and wrist—holding on tight to force even an inch of distance. With a growl, Riri wrenched one of her palms free and smashed Shuri’s face, trying to gain leverage. But Shuri thrashed wildly beneath her—legs kicking, arms flailing—and swiped blindly in defense. Her nails raked across Riri’s face, one manicured claw catching her right in the eye.

Riri hissed, the sting immediate, her eye watering as she flinched back. The sudden recoil eased the pressure of her knee just enough for Shuri to buck her hips and swing her legs up, pitching Riri off balance. The wheels of her skates drove hard into Riri’s side, knocking the breath out of her and sending her sprawling off.

Riri scrambled upright and lunged forward again—teeth bared in rage, hands curled into fists.

But the Washingtons were on her in an instant.

Natalie caught her arm in both hands, bracing all her weight back, while Xavier—jaw bruised and lip split—hooked his long arms around her shoulders. Together, they pulled her back, straining to keep her from breaking free.

“Enough!” Natalie shouted, her voice breaking as she dug her heels into the floor. “Let’s go, Ri!”

Ayo and Aneka rushed to Shuri, glaring at Riri with pure venom.

Riri was still thrashing against their grip, chest heaving, eyes locked on Shuri like she was dying for round two—until the sharp slam of a door cut through the noise. A security guard burst out of his office, striding fast in their direction.

Only then did Riri stop struggling, jerking herself out of her friends’ hold and rushing to scoop up her fallen tote. Natalie scrambled for her purse, and Xavier wiped the blood at the corner of his mouth. They bolted for the exit—quick—before things could spiral even further. By the time the security guard arrived, they were already gone out the door.

Shuri staggered upright between Ayo and Aneka—breaths ragged, head pounding, shattered pride burning hot beneath her skin. Her braids, once neat and sleek, now hung wild where Riri’s fingers had torn through them. The weight of humiliation suffocated her—being dragged to the floor, pinned, and manhandled in front of everyone. Phones recording. Fingers pointing. Laughter screaming in her ears.

She hated the way her body ached—hated how her hip was still sore from the first fall, hated how raw her scalp felt from Riri’s violent grip, hated how her stomach throbbed from the knee driven into her ribs. But most of all, she hated Riri Williams—the girl who had stripped away her composure, robbed her dignity, and stole every ounce of control Shuri had carefully cultivated for the past sixteen years.

As they sprinted outside into the parking lot, Riri’s pulse raced—sneakers pounding against the pavement, fury still hot in her veins. Her eye burned as the hot night air slapped her face, the sting of manicured nails refusing to fade. Her temple throbbed where Shuri’s elbow had cracked against her skull, paired with the sharp ache in her back from being body slammed to the floor.

The chaos replayed in her head—the snatch, the shove, the crash of bodies, the crowd screaming with glee as every phone turned on them, capturing the whole brawl on camera. It should’ve fueled her fire, should’ve left her laughing and overjoyed at the heiress’s documented downfall.

But it didn’t.

Because underneath the fire sat something heavier. A gnawing, bitter realization she didn’t want to acknowledge.

Shuri’s words cut back through the haze: uncouth, primitive, crude, classless.

And after all of it—the insults, the fighting, the mess she’d left behind—Riri couldn’t escape the nauseating truth rotting inside her chest.

She’d just proven her right.

And for that, she hated Shuri Udaku—the girl who made her feel smaller than she ever had before, ripped her apart in a place that used to feel like home, and exposed every raw, ugly part of herself that Riri fought to keep hidden.

iii.

Present Day

Neither girl had ever forgotten that night. The bruises had faded, but the memory never did. In the quiet hours between sleep and waking, both of them still carried it: the roller rink lights glaring down, the sound of laughter ringing too sharp in their ears, the sting of hair yanked and elbows thrown, the phantom feel of their bodies pressed together, limbs tangled on the floor. Neither of them admitted it aloud, not even to their closest friends, but they both knew.

They hadn’t seen the last of each other.

In the back of their minds, they wondered with dread — and maybe a twisted kind of anticipation — when their paths would cross again. Even now — here on the back porch with music rattling faintly from inside and the warm Chicago night sticking to their skin — it still caught them off guard. They’d half expected this moment, half braced for it, but expectation didn’t soften the impact. Every day since that night, the anger sat heavy in their chests, calcifying into bitter resentment. And now, face to face once more, it all surged back like it had never left.

Riri’s smirk spread, sly and goading. “You look outta place, princess. Bet this is the first party you’ve ever been to where people didn’t kiss your ass just for showing up.”

A flicker passed across Shuri’s face, a shadow of irritation before her composure locked back into place. She gave a low laugh, soft but cruel, tilting her head just enough to let the sound carry. “At least I go to parties worth remembering. Sticky floors and smelly beer sound more like a punishment than a night out. Though I suppose someone has to keep the bottom-shelf businesses afloat.”

The jab made Riri’s chest prickle, but she masked it with a raised brow, hiding the flare of heat in her stomach. This was her space. Her people. She wasn’t about to let Shuri see her flinch.

“And yet, you’re here.” Riri shot back, her voice mocking, “So why don’t you show everyone you’re more than just a last name?”

Before Shuri could answer, Riri leaned into the moment, cockiness spilling free from the six consecutive wins still warm in her blood. Her smirk widened, wicked, daring. “Next round. You and me. Unless sippin’ tea on Daddy’s credit card is more your speed—‘cause this beer might be too real for someone who only knows how to stunt.”

The crowd stirred immediately—excited murmurs, low whistles, the buzz of anticipation crackling in the air.

For the briefest flicker, logic tried to root itself in Shuri’s mind. She wasn’t a drinker—barely tolerated a sip of champagne at family gatherings. She should have walked away. Should have let Riri bask in her hollow victory. But the sting of humiliation from their first meeting was still fresh. And the smirk on Riri’s face—so smug, so sure, practically daring her to back down ignited something hot and stubborn in her chest. Rationality slipped away, recklessness taking its place.

“I accept,” Shuri announced, icy confidence coating every syllable.

Nakia’s head snapped toward her in disbelief, but Riri’s smile just widened, triumphant. “Taking off the training wheels, huh?” Her voice dripped with self-satisfaction. “Didn’t think you had it in you, princess.”

Shuri bristled as Riri threw a look back over her shoulder at the crowd. “New game!”

The back porch erupted.

Riri hopped down and moved toward the stools, Natalie trailing with an encouraging grin. Shuri stormed after her, heels striking the ground with sharp precision. A stool lay tipped on its side from the last round, and she grabbed it, slamming it upright harder than necessary. She stepped forward, shoulders rigid, braids swinging sharp against her back.

Nakia was right behind her, steady but insistent. “Shuri,” Her voice cut under the noise, soft but firm. “Don’t do this.”

Shuri’s head whipped toward her, eyes hot. “What? You don’t think I can beat her?”

“That’s not what I said,” Nakia countered, shaking her head. “But these games get intense, and you don’t have much experience. You’re clever, but this isn’t cleverness. It’s alcohol. It doesn’t care who’s smarter. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

The words should have convinced her. Shuri knew Nakia was right—she was inexperienced. She barely touched alcohol. Her body wasn’t trained for it, and downing whole cups of cheap booze perched on a stool was far from wise. But wisdom had no place here. Not with the sound of her name being chanted by strangers who would never let her live down a retreat. Not with Riri smiling at her like she’d already won. In the end, pride roared louder than reason.

“I’ll be fine,” Shuri snapped, dismissing Nakia’s warning.

The older girl muttered something sharp under her breath in Xhosa but braced the stool anyway, one begrudging hand steady on the wood. Ignoring the sting of doubt in her own chest, Shuri gripped Nakia’s other hand and aggressively climbed up, planting her suede ankle boots like she was taking a throne.

Across from them, Natalie was already hyping Riri up, steadying her by the elbow as she clambered onto her own stool. Riri planted her Jordans, loose and cocky, her smile dripping with arrogance.

The two of them balanced high above the crowd, cups waiting to be filled. The chants grew louder, the heat of the party pressing in from all sides, but neither seemed to notice in the midst of their silent stare down.

Shuri’s eyes locked on Riri’s with fierce determination, hellbent on wiping that smug grin off her face.

Riri glared right back, jaw set, ready to drag the heiress down in front of everyone.

Their gazes clashed like flint and steel, sparks leaping invisible between them.

If you want a direct alternative there's Revolt, which is a free, open source discord clone.

This means unlike most popular chat apps, including and especially Discord, Element doesn't sell your conversations or tracking data to advertisers, because the company literally doesn't have access to that data in the first place.