Stud Shuri Activities

Stud Shuri activities

THIS IS KILLIN MEEE

😭Shuri playing in Reader’s clothes when she bored:

They gon have to chain me up

Your Panther--Postcards From Wakanda (what i have so far)

Another stack of clothes fits snugly into your brand new suitcase, revealing two identical pairs of eyes staring up at you.

“Where are you going?” The mouth attached to one of the pairs of eyes asks.

“I’m going to Wakanda.” You say, closing the packing cube containing your toiletries.

Dual gasps sound from the floor at the foot of your bed as your twin siblings launch to their feet and climb onto the bed, voices overlapping as they shout question after question at you.

“YOU’RE GOING TO WAKANDA!?”

“Can we come?”

“How long does it take to get there?”

“How long are you staying?”

“The news said they have spaceships. Is it true?”

“Do you know the Black Panther?” How do they even know about that? I deleted that part of my report.

“Is the Black Panther coming to pick you up?”

“Do you know the princess?”

“Has she sent you any of her technology?”

“Can she send us some vibranium?”

You cut in, “No, I will not ask the Princess of Wakanda to send you vibranium.”

“So you do know the princess! Does she wear crowns?”

“Pretty dresses?”

“Have tea parties?”

“What sort of experiments does she do?”

“Has she ever been in a fight?”

“Is she coming to pick you up?”

“What about the bald ladies?”

“Yeah, are they coming too?”

“Why are they so scary?”

A sigh escapes you as you straighten your back, eyeing the hyperactive twins as they inch closer to you with each question. You suppose their reaction is kind of your fault; you hadn’t told them—or anyone in your family really—about your connection to the Kingdom of Wakanda and your brewing relationship with the Princess.

Shuri’s presence in your life over the past four months was a closely guarded secret, though the near daily phone calls and deliveries of oversized bouquets and huge boxes of chocolates and pastries to both your home and Melody’s office were increasingly hard to keep under wraps. Melody was your accomplice in the cover-up—agreeing to pass off the deliveries to the UN as either her husband “keeping the spark alive” in their marriage, or her side piece attempting to woo her into divorce (the side piece may or may not exist; Melody refuses to confirm or deny the rumor)—in exchange for first pick from each sweets delivery. The seven hour time difference was no deterrent to Shuri once she returned to Wakanda, frequently staying up to all hours of the night and early morning just to see your face and keep your attention for a little while longer. You had your fair share of late nights too, keeping Shuri company as she worked in her lab, or snuck you into the occasional hearing with the Elders. The calls between the two of you lasted for hours, talking about everything and nothing under the sun and sometimes just sitting in silence as you both worked on other things. Did you need three cups of coffee to get you through the day afterwards? Absolutely. But you’d do it again just to hear Shuri’s deep, sleep plagued voice whisper “Andikwazi kulinda ukukubamba ezingalweni zam kwakhona, sithandwa sam.” As she bids you sweet dreams for the evening. (I can't wait to hold you in my arms again, my love). 

The beeping of your kimoyo bracelet startles you, halting the questions your siblings were still rapid-firing your way. “What’s that noise? What are these?” Your brother asks, reaching towards the bracelet in question as it vibrates on your bed.

You quickly snatch it out of his grasp and answer the call, the face of the woman who’s stealing your heart appearing in the hologram, “Hi.” A blinding smile appears on your face immediately.

“Hi, sthandwa sam,” Shuri greets you with her own smile, “You look beautiful today.” 

You look down at your outfit: an “errand day” classic consisting of a holey, old, oversized graphic t-shirt with bike shorts underneath, fuzzy slippers and your hair wrapped in a scarf. “I look crazy right now, Shuri. My hair isn't even done.”

 Shuri smacks her teeth and rolls her eyes, “You look beautiful every time I see you, usana. I told you you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, especially with no makeup on.”

Now it’s your turn to smack your teeth and roll your eyes, “You’re just saying that because you’re trying to flirt.”

“No I’m not, Y/N,” Shuri’s gaze is intense as she locks eyes with you, preparing to say something else until something in the corner of the screen catches her eye, “Hello.”

You look to your left, noticing that your siblings have snuck across the room while Shuri had you distracted, and are now peeking over your shoulder.

Your brother’s “Hi.” comes in unison with your sister’s “Who are you?”

You roll your eyes at their antics, even as a fond smile spreads across your face “This is Shuri. Shuri, this is my twin brother and sister.”

Your sister’s jaw drops, “Wait, like Princess Shuri? THE PRINCESS OF WAKANDA?!”

Shuri’s chuckle floats to your ears under the sounds of the twins resuming their screaming before your brother sprints from your room to your mother in the living room shouting, “MOM, Y/N KNOWS THE PRINCESS OF WAKANDA! SHE’S ON THE PHONE WITH HER RIGHT NOW COME SEE, COME SEE!”

Your eyes roll again as your sister begins tugging your arm, trying to get a closer look at the Princess. Jesus, take me now, “I’m so sorry, Shuri. They’ve been fascinated ever since they saw on the news that you came here to visit.”

“It’s alright, Y/N. Maybe they can come visit one day.” Shuri is still smiling sweetly. Good, my crazy family hasn’t scared her off..yet

“We don’t have passports yet, Princess.” Your sister cuts in

“You don’t need one to come to Wakanda; we don’t use traditional airports or aircrafts.”

Your sister cocks her head to the side, “What do you use, then?”

Shuri smirks, proud of her creations, “You can see when I come to pick up your big sister in about an hour.”

The blood drains from your face, drowning out your sister losing her mind again, “You’re coming to—I thought you were picking me up on Monday? I still have to get my hair braided, I’m not dressed yet, my camera equipment isn’t even organized—”

“Sthandwa, my love. Look at me.” You lock eyes with Shuri and you immediately feel the anxiety leave your body. It’s truly remarkable how she’s able to calm you down with just a few words, even from thousands of miles away, “I couldn’t wait any longer, usana. I have to see you in person. Plus, I figured we could spend a few more days together before I had to return you.”

Your heart melts, but you don’t get a chance to reply as your little brother enters, bouncing across the threshold of your room with your mothers arm locked in his grasp, “LOOK LOOK THERE SHE IS! SEE? I WASN’T LYING! THE PRINCESS OF WAKANDA IS ON THE PHONE WITH Y/N!”

“SHE’S COMING HERE! IN AN HOUR! SHE’S COMING TO VISIT US!”

“Us?!” You and your mother, who—thankfully—is controlling the amused smile threatening to spread across her face, speak at the same time.

The question goes unanswered as the twins begin jumping together and screaming nonsensically. Your head drops into your hand as you groan. These kids are so damn embarrassing, “Oh my God, chill out! Yall are gonna scare her away before she even gets here!”

Shuri’s hologram laughs, “They could never, usana. They remind me of the children of the Border Tribe; they’re always excited to see me and brother when we come to visit.”

“We have so many questions for you, Princess.” Your sister approaches again, yanking your arm closer to her so she’s in the frame.

“Can you bring us some vibranium?” Your brother asks unceremoniously as he crashes into the frame, his form practically vibrating in excitement.

“No! For the second time she is not bringing you vibranium!” You exclaim. He immediately begins pleading his case but your attention has been caught by Shuri, who’s cackling on the other end of the hologram. “Shuri, this isn’t funny! Stop laughing.” You scold, in spite of the smile spreading across your own face; her joy brings you joy, and seeing her navigating your siblings so easily warms your heart.

“I think this is how my big brother felt when he had to babysit me before I had my lab.” Shuri’s still laughing as she speaks. “How about this sthandwa? Give them your kimoyo beads, I’ll occupy them while you finish packing. I’m almost there.” 

Your brother reacts quicker than you, sliding the bracelet off your wrist and bolting from the room with his twin sister hot on his heels.

“So,” Your mother starts as she finally fully enters the room, moving to sit on the edge of your bed, “You and Princess Shuri, huh? How’d that happen?”

You thank God that the melanin in your skin hides the redness that comes over your face, but the smile gives you away regardless, “I guess I caught her eye when the Royal Family came to the UN a while back. She popped up at Melody’s office after the hearing and we’ve been talking ever since. She’s supposed to be courting me.”

“Is she? Courting you?”

You nod, “All those flowers in my living room are from her. She sends two bouquets here and one to Melody’s office every week. Plus chocolates and other stuff sometimes.”

Your mother hums, “Well, it’s clear she has no shortage of funds to spend on you, but how does she make you feel mentally?”

It takes you a moment to answer, tears suddenly springing to your eyes as you think of the way Shuri makes you feel, “She’s overwhelming in the best way possible. She’s funny, she’s patient, she’s kind. I’ve never felt so safe around someone so soon. She’s genuinely interested in everything I have to say, she listens to my rants about school and the internship, she gives me incredible advice, she can calm me down with just a few words from halfway across the globe. She feels like home already.”

“Do you love her?” Your mother has a small smile on her face, like she already knows your answer. She’s happy that her oldest baby finally found someone who treats her like the princess she is, but Shuri will still have to get her final approval.

You freeze. Do you love Shuri already? You’ve only known her for four months, and you’ve only been in her physical presence for two weeks. The majority of your relationship has been long distance, where it’s all too easy to curate a perfect persona and hide the unsavory parts. But Shuri is one of the most genuine people you’ve ever met. She’s never lied to you about anything, except the time she’d lured you out of your apartment on a Sunday afternoon to surprise you with two dozen five-foot stem roses, a bought-out restaurant, a specially curated menu, a saxophonist playing your favorite song, and a flyover of Manhattan in a stealth-cloaked Talon Fighter. The two of you then walked around Manhattan hand-in-hand until the sun poked her head over the horizon, at which point you found a diner and cuddled in a booth in the corner, laughing deliriously at nothing while sneaking kisses as you hid behind the menus so Shuri wouldn't get noticed. 

“I definitely like her a lot, but I think I’ll know if I love her when I come back from this trip.” Is what you settle on.

The quiet moment is broken when your siblings appear in the doorway holding your kimoyo bracelet, sans the hologram of Shuri, “She hung up, she said she’s on the roof?”

Your heart drops, “She can’t see me like this. I haven’t even changed yet! I need to shower. My toes aren’t done!”

Your mother waves her hand at you, silencing your anxious rant, “Girl, calm down. Nightgowns and big t-shirts are how you get them hooked. How do you think I ended up with six kids? If this Shuri is as into you as she seems, this look is going to send her into a tizzy.” She winks at you as she stands, taking your siblings and leaving the room as you stare after her.

The four of you make your way to the roof of your apartment building, where you’re greeted with nothing but your view of the skyscrapers of Manhattan. The twins spin in circles before turning their accusatory glares to you, “There’s nothing here! She tricked us!”

“Maybe she’s on the wrong roof?” Your mother offers, though she tosses you a worried glance out of the corner of her eye.

You send her a smile before returning your gaze to the sky. Don’t worry, she’s coming.

The Talon Fighter appears suddenly, hovering in the air for a moment before landing gracefully before the four of you as the ramp deploys, revealing the passengers inside.

“Whoa! Where’d that come from?” Your sister asks.

“It’s Shuri!” Your brother exclaims

Okoye and one other Dora Milaje member disembark first—”She brought the bald ladies!” Your brother screams, earning a disapproving glare from Okoye—looking around the area before giving the all clear, and the last person begins their descent. 

This is it; the moment you’ve been counting down to since you saw Shuri off onto this same Talon Fighter four months ago. The moment where you get to see her with your own eyes instead of through a hologram. The moment where you finally get to kiss her lips in reality instead of just dreaming about it.

The person finally reaches the bottom of the ramp and steps forward, revealing the smiling face of—

“Prince T’Challa?!” 

“He doesn’t look like a Shuri.” Your brother comments, and the smirk on the Crown Princes’ face breaks out in a full blown grin.

“Hello Miss Y/N. Good to see you.”

“I–Shuri said she was on her way. Could she not make it?” For the second time, you find yourself fighting back tears. Yes, you’re happy to see T’Challa—the two of you grew very close over the two weeks they were visiting the UN when Shuri wasn’t going out of her way to occupy all of your time and attention, and you occasionally spoke to him when he appeared in the background of Shuri’s video calls—but the only person you wanted to see was your Shuri, so you could wrap yourself in her arms to make up for the four months where you had to imagine her arms around you to fall asleep. The sharp edges of your nails dig into your palms in an effort to distract yourself from the growing lump in your throat. I don’t even want to go anymore. If Shuri isn’t here to take me, I’m staying home. You know you’re being irrational; you’ll be in Wakanda—in Shuri’s arms—by the end of today regardless of who comes to pick you up. But her not being here to hold your hand as you cross the border is making you want to unpack your bags and hole up in your room for the entire summer. 

T’Challa’s smile falters a bit, his eyes darting around your surroundings before settling on something off to your right, “Um...” He begins, twisting the ring on his finger.

“Prince T’Challa.” You step towards the Prince and his wide eyes lock with yours. He’s hiding something.

T’Challa opens his mouth, but suddenly two arms wrap around you from behind, pulling you back into a firm body. You freeze, a surprised gasp leaving you as you feel their lips grazing your ear, “Molo nkosazana yam. Ingaba ubundikhumbula?” (Hello my princess, Did you miss me?)

“Shuri!” Your heart soars as you spin around to face the person you’ve been dreaming of for nearly half a year, “You’re here.” You don’t give her a chance to respond, cupping her cheeks and pulling her face down to yours.

Shuri’s kiss is electric, sending sparks through your body with every movement of her soft lips against yours. She tastes just as you remember; subtly earthy, accented by the mint of her favorite gum. The sounds of the world—including your siblings gagging and complaining about cooties—melt away as every nerve and sense in your body becomes attuned to the woman in your arms. Shuri cups the back of your head, beginning to work her tongue into your mouth when the distant noise of someone clearing their throat brings you back to the present moment. Shuri, however, sneaks several more kisses as she takes her time pulling away from you. “I guess you did miss me.” She smirks

“Of course I did, you idiot.” You smack her arm, “Why’d you try to make it seem like you didn’t come?”

Shuri at least has the wherewithal to look sheepish as she shrugs, “I don’t know, I wanted to surprise you, I guess.”

“By making your brother lie for you? You know he’s a terrible liar.” You suddenly remember the Royal in question is very much within your earshot, “No offense, Prince T’Challa.”

“None taken, Miss Y/N.” T’Challa smiles warmly.

“At least she didn’t freeze like you do.” Okoye chimes in, sending Shuri into a fit of giggles as T’Challa cuts a glare at Okoye’s quietly snickering figure. 

“That was months ago, Okoye. Why bring up the past?” The Prince whines.

“You froze when she came back from her outreach trip last week.” Shuri fires back. 

T’Challa sighs, “Please, Shuri. Collect Miss Y/N before I regale everyone with the story of how you gushed over her for several hours during our trip to the UN.” He turns to Okoye, tapping his finger against his chin in fake contemplation, “Or should I tell them about the dreams Shuri has about her.”

Okoye’s eyebrows raise, “Ooh, I haven’t heard about the dreams. Please do tell us. I’m sure they were very interesting.”

“That’s not necessary, brother. Sthandwa, why don’t you introduce us to your family?” Shuri wraps her arm around your waist and guides you toward your mother and siblings.

You pull away, fixing Shuri with a glare that has the young genius shrinking back, despite her towering over you, “Oh, you’re not getting off that easy. I want to hear about these dreams you’ve been having.”

Shuri takes your hand, grazing her lips along your knuckles, “I promise I’ll tell you later, usana.”

“While we’re on the plane.” 

“While we’re on the plane.” Shuri nods.

“Stop spreading cooties, Y/N. We wanna meet the Princess.” Your little sister cuts in

“And ask her about vibranium.” Your brother adds, prompting you to roll your eyes.

You sigh, “Shuri, this is my mom, and my younger siblings.” You watch proudly as Shuri shakes hands with a few of the most important people in your life.

"So, Princess," Your mother starts as she gives Shuri an appraising once-over, "What are your plans with my eldest daughter?"

While you want the ground to swallow you whole from embarrassment, Shuri doesn't flinch. In fact, she smiles almost like she was anticipating the question, "Please, call me Shuri. And as far as my plans; for this trip, I plan on introducing her to Wakanda's culture, our food, lifestyle and technology. And as for the future," Shuri's eyes lock with yours as her grip on your waist tightens, "I plan on marrying your daughter, if she'll have me."

Your siblings start screaming—something about being prince & princess by marriage—but their noise sounds miles away, overcome by the sound of blood rushing to your head. She wants to marry me?! Already? And why am I excited about being Shuri's wife? 

The feeling of the hem of your shirt being pulled pulls you back to the present, and you look down to see your brother "Y/N, if you marry Shuri, then we get vibranium. You have to marry her!"

"Why are you so obsessed with vibranium?" Your sister asks

"Because it's so cool! Vibranium can do anything!" 

"What would you do if you had access to vibranium?" Shuri chimes in

"I'd make water guns for me & my friends. I'd make a giant fire breathing dinosaur! I’d make a spaceship that turns into a robot—”

“It sounds like vibranium might be safer with this young man than it would be in the hands of some of the adults we work with.” T’Challa muses as he approaches you before reaching out a hand to introduce himself to your mother and siblings. “I will keep the youngsters entertained while you finish packing, Miss Y/N.” 

“Come, sthandwa. Let’s get you packed so we can go.” Shuri begins guiding you back towards the entrance of the building

You follow willingly, but you glance back just in time to see T’Challa activate his Black Panther suit as your siblings run at him full speed.

Once inside your apartment, Shuri plops down in your bedside chair, letting out a massive sigh as she relaxes, watching you move about the room “I’ve missed this chair. I might have to steal this from you, usana.”

“You will do no such thing, Shuri.” You laugh, pulling your camera bag out of your closet.

Shuri leans forward in the chair, reaching out in an attempt to grab your thigh as you pass in front of her, “How many bags do you intend to take?” 

You sidestep Shuri’s hands, “Just three; my camera bag, my suitcase and an empty bag for souveni—” Shuri successfully captures your legs in her grasp, pulling you into the space between her legs, “Shuri, you’re distracting me. What happened to letting me pack?”

“I’m prepared to stay here for a few days.” Shuri’s deep voice ignites a fire in your core as she leans back in the seat, pulling you to straddle her before gripping the swell of your ass in her hands, “I just wanted to get you alone, usana. Couldn’t kiss you the way I wanted to with everyone around.”

You find yourself becoming putty in Shuri’s grasp as her hands roam your body, barely restraining a moan as her hands slip under your shirt to caress the mounds of your breasts in her icy palms. 

“Have I ever told you that you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen?” Shuri’s lips graze yours as she speaks, desperation laced within her tone as she rolls your hardening buds between her fingers, “You’re so beautiful. Your skin is so soft.” One of her hands grips your neck in a gentle but firm grip, tilting your head back to expose your neck to her wandering lips, “I can’t wait to get you to Wakanda, so I can have you in the way that I want. I’m going to take you in every way I can, everywhere I can. You won’t be able to walk when I’m done with you.” 

“Shuri.” You moan, cupping your hand over hers and encouraging her to caress you harder, your half packed luggage long forgotten.

“Andikwazi kulinda ukungcamla wena ntombi yam entle.” Shuri mumbles in your ear before sinking her teeth into the flesh of your neck and immediately begins working on a mark, a groan rising from the depths of her chest. (I can't wait to taste you my pretty girl)

Your mind goes completely blank as Shuri assaults your senses in the best way possible. She seems to know every soft, sensitive spot on your body and exactly which buttons to push and when to bring you maximum pleasure. Her hands trace your body, meeting at your waist and pulling you flush against her as she continues her ministrations on your neck, spurred on by your soft moans and the way your blunt nails scratch against her undercut. You move her lips to seal across yours as Shuri grips your ass, sliding her thigh between yours and guiding you to rock against the taut muscle, easing her tongue into your mouth to swallow the moans as they escape you.

“This doesn’t look like packing.” The two of you jolt apart at the interruption, Shuri lifts you up, pushing you behind her planting herself in front of you before she sees the intruder.

“Okoye, wenza ntoni? Ukusothusa ngolo hlobo.” Shuri exclaims, turning back to you and planting a kiss on your temple, “Uyaphila, ngelosi?” At your confused gaze, she translates, “Are you alright?” (Okoye, what are you doing? Startling us like that.)

You nod, albeit shakily, you always did startle easily. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Shuri eyes you for a moment, searching for any lingering reservations before turning to face the General, who's fighting—and failing—to keep a smile off her face, “I thought you were guarding my brother? He needs more help than I do.”

“Ayo has the Prince and the twins under control.” Okoye starts as she invites herself fully into your room, glancing around at the decor, “I came down to see what was taking you two so long but I see you were sidetracked.” Another smirk begins to spread on her face, she’ll definitely be mentioning this to T’Challa later. Despite the teasing, Okoye is genuinely happy to see that someone has caught the Princess’ eye. There’s been a lingering sadness behind Shuri’s eyes since the death of King T’Chaka and Killmonger attempting to steal the throne, but Okoye saw that light return when she walked into that office after the UN meeting. While the General isn’t overly fond of your nationality—she would much rather see the Princess paired with someone from Wakanda, who’s already familiar with the culture, technology and traditions of their country—it’s a small concession to make when Shuri is the happiest the General had seen her in months. Plus, and Okoye would never admit this out loud, she’s growing quite fond of you; you’re one of the few non-Wakandans to have access to the Royal Family and knowledge of Wakanda’s full technological prowess, yet you treat them no differently than anyone else: respectful, warm and welcoming. You’re also one of the only people who aren’t intimidated by the presence of her and the other Dora Milaje. If all Americans were like you, she might like this country more. 

“I just wanted to spend a little bit of time alone with her before we left to go back home. We have a pretty packed schedule once we land so we might not have any time for each other outside of sleeping.” Shuri explains.

Okoye looks up from where she was flipping through the photo album on your dresser, her eyebrows raised in disbelief, “Oh, yes, sleeping.” She continues, despite your ungraceful squawk and shuri’s gasped ‘okoye’, “Just make sure you soundproof your room before you sleep.” She’s shooting the two of you a wink and disappearing from the room, “Oh, and Ms. Y/N, I’d pack a little faster if I were you,” The General calls from your living room, “I believe the Prince was losing the battle with the twins.”

Before you or Shuri can respond, the door to your apartment flies open, slamming against the wall as T’Challa—with your sister tucked under one arm and your brother held overhead—parades into your apartment, your mom and Ayo trailing silently behind them. The Prince is spinning in circles, dancing around your small New York apartment and singing what you can only assume is a Wakandan traditional song as your younger siblings scream with laughter in the Black Panther’s secure hold. The other ladies gather next to you and Shuri in the doorway to your bedroom as you take in the spectacle before you. Your mother is recording and  dancing along, mumbling random noises in an attempt to keep up with the melody that the Prince is singing. She’ll definitely be sending that shaky, low quality video to the family group chat later. Ayo and Okoye have carefully blank looks on their faces—Ayo is fighting to minimize a small grin, Okoye simply looks unimpressed. Shuri is also recording, no doubt filing the footage away as blackmail fuel against her brother. 

The circus carries on for a few more moments, until your brother worms his way out of The Panther’s hold and attempts to trap him in a headlock which sends the three of them sailing backwards, crashing into your end table and rocking over the items on top, including a picture of you and your grandfather. You close your eyes as the frame slides off the table, the muffled sound of glass shattering makes you cringe as you say a silent prayer, please let the picture be okay.

The room is silent as the trio freeze, T’Challa using his Panther reflexes to shoot a hand out and stabilize a vase of white roses that’s rocking dangerously close to the edge before retracting his Panther mask. His eyes are wide, and trained on you in an effort to gauge exactly how upset you are and how much damage control he was about to have to do. 

It’s your sister that springs into action first, carefully lifting the frame off of the ground and turning it over, carefully inspecting the photograph inside. She carefully sidesteps the glass as she brings it to you, “The picture is okay, the glass just broke.” She says quietly, holding it up to you. 

A grateful sigh leaves your body as you immediately tuck the picture close to your chest. It was one of the last photos you’d taken with your grandfather before his untimely death just after your high school graduation. This photo and the red hibiscus charm on your necklace are two of your most prized possessions and memories of him. 

“Miss Y/N,” T’Challa, panther suit now completely gone, approaches you carefully, “Please accept my most sincere apologies. It wasn’t my intent to damage any of your property, especially not such a valued photo of your family member. I should’ve used better judgment and kept the children outside.”

You muster a smile despite the tears pricking your eyes, “It’s fine.” You hope nobody hears the crack in your voice, but the way Shuri appears in your peripheral and T’Challa’s frown deepens tells you that you were unsuccessful. “Like she said,  it was only the glass that broke. The picture and the frame are fine.” You shoot him another smile before taking a step back towards your room, “I have to finish packing.” 

You retreat into the safety of your room hoping to have a moment alone, but Shuri isn’t having it. She thankfully keeps her distance, but watches you carefully as you go through the breathing exercises that your therapist taught you. You turn to face her after a few moments, when your heart finally stops racing, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to freak out over something so small.”

“Don’t apologize, sthandwa. That picture is clearly very important to you,” Shuri reaches her hand out for the frame in your hands, “May I?” Once you hand it over,  Shuri studies it carefully, “Tell me about him?”

You suck in a breath, you haven’t spoken about your grandfather in years, since his funeral. “That’s my grandad; my mom’s dad. He practically raised me since my parents were always working weird hours and we often spent summers at his house. He got me into gardening practically as soon as I could walk, and then he got me into photography when I was in middle school. He taught me how to grill, how to change a tire, how to fish and how to win every card game, every time.” The lump in your throat makes you pause, tears welling up in your eyes as the force of how much you missed him hits you full force. You wish he was here to meet Shuri and T’Challa, he’d probably worm his way onto the Talon Fighter with you. “He had a sense of humor that could make even Okoye laugh. He was one of my favorite people.”

“What happened to him?” 

You swallow a few times; this was the hard part, “He died about a month after we took that picture; heart attack.”

“Oh, sthandwa.” Shuri coos, gently sitting the picture on your dresser and pulling you into her as the dam of tears breaks. You try to control the volume of your cries, very aware of the people just outside your thin bedroom door. The princess gives you all the time you need, rubbing her hands up and down your back as you cling to her.

“I’m so sorry,” You sniffle as you pull away, your cries now turning into hiccups, “This is supposed to be a happy day but I’ve cried four times already.”

Shuri frowns, “Why have you been crying, usana?”

 “I don’t know, I cried when your brother got off the Talon Fighter because I thought you hadn’t come to get me. I guess I’m just stressed out or something.” 

Shuri cups your face in her hands, thumbs coming up to wipe the lingering tears on your cheeks, “Let me take some of that stress from you then.” She doesn’t give you a chance to respond as she guides you to the chair near the windows, “Sit.” Her simple command leaves no room for argument as you silently follow her orders, taking a seat and watching her move about your room. The princess starts by approaching your suitcase, studying the items you’ve already packed before launching into action; moving between your closet and the bag on your bed, adding and removing items as she sees fit, essentially repacking your suitcase before she decides she’s satisfied. “I’ll have items ready for you when we land, so you only need  something to wear on the Talon Fighter, and maybe a change of clothes if alterations are needed.” 

You shoot up from the chair, “Shuri, I have more than enough clothes, I don’t need—”

“You’ll just have to make room for more, usana. Now get changed so we can head out.”

“I still need to get my hair done, I don’t want to have to deal with my hair every day.”

“I already booked you an appointment with my stylist back home, and I can schedule you in for anything else you’d need. Now come, I picked this out for you.” Shuri hands you a stack of clothes before ushering you out the door of your room and to the bathroom across the hall, where you quickly change and head back to your bedroom.

“Do you have everything you need, sthandwa?” 

You double check your camera bag to make sure you have everything to get you through the next two months; cameras, chargers, extra batteries, SD cards, adapters, lenses. All present. “Yeah, I think I’m good.” 

Shuri smiles, wordlessly grabbing your bags and heading towards the living room, where Okoye and Ayo take them to load onto the Talon Fighter.

Your brother meets you in the doorway of your room as you exit, “I’m sorry about the picture Y/N, I know that’s your favorite picture of grandpa. I know better than to play in the house.”

You lean down to press a kiss to his hairline before pulling him into a hug, “It’s okay. Just don’t destroy my house while I’m gone.”

He beams a huge, toothless smile up at you. “I won’t. Have fun y/n. Love you!” He bounces away as your sister approaches, wrapping her arms around your waist and squeezing as she looks up at you, “Can you bring back some flowers from Wakanda?”

A giggle escapes you, “I’ll see what I can do.” Your baby sister has been obsessed with flowers since she was an infant, when your grandfather would take her on tours of his extensive garden. He would sit with her amongst the blooms for hours, telling her about all the different colors and varieties—just like he did when you were that small.

“I’ll make sure Miss Y/N brings home some flowers just for you.” T’Challa cuts in, leaning down to the young girl's level just in time for her to throw her arms around his neck, a muffled “thank you” reaching your ears moments later. 

“I promise to keep your flowers alive.” Your sister says, spinning on her heels and running over to her favorite watering can and starting her favorite activity: watering your flowers. She designated herself as the “Official Flower Keeper-Aliver” when she came over one day and saw the first round of deliveries from Shuri. It’s very ritualistic, the order in which she waters the blooms littering your home. She refuses to explain why she waters certain ones first and you’ve long since left her alone; the flowers stay alive way longer than any bouquets you received before (you’re beginning to think Shuri managed to lace the flowers with vibranium to extend their lifespan, but you can’t prove that)

Your mother approaches next, but her eyes are fixed on the Princess, “You better take care of my baby. This is my oldest girl, and it won’t just be me coming after you if she comes back with a broken heart.” 

T’Challa wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side, “I will personally see to it that Miss Y/N comes back happier than she left, regardless of what my sister has planned.”

Shuri’s jaw drops, “Brother. Y/N is coming to see me,” She grabs your hand, gently yanking you out of her brother’s hold and into her arms, “Not you. You have Nakia.”

"Yes but in the event Miss Y/N gets tired of watching you in your lab all day, she's more than welcome to come hang out with me."

"Why? To watch you in meetings all day? My lab is way more fun." Shuri leans back to flash you a smile, "You'll see, sthandwa. You can help me with my work." 

"If memory serves, Miss Y/N is more of a politician than a scientist. She might find your tinkering a bit—"

"Tinkering?!" Shuri moves both of you to step closer to her brother, "That's not what you were saying when I redesigned your suit that was only bulletproof when you had your helmet on!"

"A suit you designed to only be bulletproof when I had my helmet on, by the way!" T'Challa fires back.

The siblings descend into bickering with you caught in the middle, looking between them. You rest your head on Shuri's chest as you lock eyes with your mom, who has a knowing smile on her face—this is your life now, and you love every piece of it.

Moments pass and the three of you finally make it onto the Talon Fighter where Ayo and Okoye were waiting, “Finally, I was beginning to think we would be stuck here for the rest of the day.” The General mumbles as she takes the pilot’s chair.

The four-hour flight passes quickly, simply because Shuri was hell bent on keeping your attention for the entire duration. The young genius kept you by her side as she checked over work from her staff, explaining the mockups and functions of each blueprint.

This be Shuri playin w her mama’s clothes

YALL SAW BAE OR AM I TWEAKIN

shuri’s knees failin on her durin trainin cuz Okoye be too damn harsh