Shuri Ć Black!FemReader Oc (Jenee)
Context: Shuri is about four years older than Jenee, so she naturally has a little more life experience and tends to be the calmer, more organized parent. Jenee is affectionate, playful, and sometimes a bit scattered, while Shuri often keeps everyone on track. Despite their different parenting styles, they work well as a team and balance each other out.
Warnings: Fluff ā¢ Domestic Family Life ā¢ Established Marriage ā¢ Parenting ā¢ Toddler Antics ā¢ Soft Romance ā¢ Healthy Communication ā¢ Light Humor ā¢ No Major Angst ā¢ No Violence ā¢ Non Explicit ā¢ Happy Ending ā¢ Tooth-Rotting Sweetness.
Tags: @tishsrealwife @blkgworlamplified @riris-heart @shuririsecretl0v3r @shuriandririswifey @shuriszn @shurislover @shurisbathwater @axailslink @amplifiedmoan @tishsrealwife @slutsareteacherstoo @kissvamps @kiyanextdoor @charayy @doms-fav @multifariousqueer @mrsudakuwilliams99 @mariquitaaa @scarlettslvtx
The next morning, Wakanda woke up early for your child.
The sun had barely crested the mountains when the palace staff began their quiet rush: kitchen ovens humming, Dora stationed at entrances, elders arriving earlier than they'd admit just to pretend they hadn't been excited for weeks.
Inside your room, the day started with a whisper.
You inhaled slowly, not quite awake, pressed against Shuri's warm side. Her arm draped heavy over your waist, fingers splayed over your t-shirt like she was still guarding something precious in her sleep.
You felt a tiny finger poke your cheek.
You cracked one eye open.
Nala stood at the edge of the bed, curls even wilder than usual, pajamas slightly twisted, clutching her panther plush and wearing one of yesterday's paper crownsānow crumpled and sliding over one eye.
"Good morning, birthday girl."
You glanced at the clock.
"Too early," came a dry murmur from behind you.
You felt Shuri shift, her voice still rough with sleep.
"Nala sweet girl, the sun is barely awake."
You snorted, turning onto your back as Shuri rolled over, hair half-crushed on one side, the other side a sleepy cloud.
"You already did, baby," you said, reaching out to pull Nala onto the bed. "The sun heard it was your birthday and got scared of being late."
Nala climbed over your legs like a tiny mountain climber, immediately flopping onto Shuri's chest with zero regard for rib cages.
"Oof," Shuri grunted, eyes squinting open as little elbows dug into her. "You are... much heavier than yesterday."
"Is cuz I three now," Nala declared.
"Ah," Shuri nodded solemnly. "The additional year added exactly 1.2 kilograms to your mass."
"You did not just estimate our child's weight half-asleep."
"I am never not precise."
"Your precision is about to get you kicked out of this bed."
Nala gasped dramatically, turning to you.
Shuri smirked over the top of your daughter's curls.
"See? Someone appreciates me."
You rolled your eyes but leaned over to kiss Nala's forehead, then Shuri's.
"Happy birthday, little panther," you whispered against Nala's hair.
She pulled back, small face serious.
"In a few hours," you explained softly. "We have to get you ready."
"Absolutely," you and Shuri answered at the same time.
You shared a smile over her head.
The palace kitchen felt like another world.
Every counter was covered: trays of fruit, rows of tiny pink pastries, vibranium warmers keeping dishes at the perfect temperature. The head chef moved like a conductor, staff weaving around each other with practiced ease.
And in the middle of it all, Nala sat on the counter with her feet swinging, wearing an oversized apron that nearly hit her ankles.
"Are you sure this is hygienic?" one of the sous-chefs whispered to Shuri.
"No," Shuri replied calmly, tying your daughter's apron. "However, I am the Princess. If my child wants to supervise pancake production on her birthday, she will."
You hid a smile behind your hand.
"You just like showing her off."
"I do," Shuri said without shame.
Nala slapped her hands on her knees.
"Pink," she repeated confidently. "And sprinkles."
"Mama, can we make pink pancakes?" you asked, bumping her hip gently. "Science them or something?"
'''Science them' is not a phrase."
She sighed dramatically but you could see the fondness in her eyes as she turned to the chef.
"Good. We will puree it, adjust the ratio so the color stays but the taste is minimal, add vanilla, and..." She glanced at Nala. "Sprinkles."
Shuri tried to play it off, but the small smile she gave your daughter was soft.
You leaned on the counter beside Nala while Shuri started working with terrifying efficiency, explaining each step in a gentle, storybook tone.
"So we take this," she said, lifting the bright pink batter. "And we pour circles on the hot pan.
āWhat happens when something very cold meets something hot?"
Nala squinted at the pan like it had personally challenged her.
"It go... ssssss?" she offered.
"Exactly, baby. It sizzles."
Shuri nodded approvingly.
"That sound is heat energy transferring. And then, when enough time passes..."
She flipped the pancake with a flick of her wrist.
Nala gasped like she'd just seen a miracle.
By the time breakfast was over, Nala had eaten three small pink pancakes, two strawberries, half a slice of mango, and somehow managed to get frosting from a test cupcake on her cheek.
"How did you get sugar on your face at breakfast?ā
Music drifted in the hallways. Dora in ceremonial uniforms stood like statues outside the ballroom. Guests arrived in clusters-nobles, elders, friends, advisors. Somewhere, Ramonda was already organizing something with lethal grace.
You knelt on the floor of your room, gently holding Nala's hands while she wiggled impatiently in her fancy dress.
The dress had been a battle.
You had lobbied for something easy, something she could run in.
Shuri had insisted on custom design.
In the end, it was both: a soft lavender dress with subtle golden embroidery, vibranium-thread trim for durability, and secret pockets.
"Hold still, baby," you murmured, smoothing the tiny crease at the waist.
"They will be there when we walk in," you assured her. "They're not going anywhere."
Behind you, Shuri finished fastening the small necklace she'd designed-simple but elegant, a tiny panther pendant with a faint violet glow in the eyes.
You caught her gaze in the mirror.
"She's three, not being coronated."
"She is royalty," Shuri replied, smiling faintly.
"And she likes shiny things."
"That part she got from you."
Shuri opened her mouth to argue, then closed it.
Nala twisted suddenly, reaching for the mirror.
Nala twisted suddenly, reaching for the mirror.
"Is me," she whispered, like she was surprised every time her reflection matched her.
You watched her, heart swelling at the way her eyes traced her own image, then you, then Shuri.
She turned to both of you, dress swishing.
"You're beautiful," you said softly.
"Inside and out," Shuri added, equally soft.
Nala considered this like it was heavy information, then nodded.
"You pretty too," she declared, patting your cheek. "And Mama."
"Thank you, little panther, Shuri said, her voice dipping into that tone she only ever used with your daughter. "Are you ready?"
Nala nodded, then hesitated.
You and Shuri exchanged a quick glance.
The ballroom doors opened with slow, deliberate drama.
Not because you'd planned it that way, but because the Dora operating them believed in theater.
Conversations quieted as people turned.
She didn't know what the title meant yet. To her, the room was just big and bright and full of color and people who loved her.
But the way Wakanda looked at her...
You felt it all, pressed between your ribs.
Nala's small hand gripped yours. Her other hand held tight to Shuri's fingers.
For a moment, she froze under all the attention, wide eyes darting across faces and decorations and a floating holographic display shaped like a giant number 3.
"Hey," you murmured. "See those balloons?"
She nodded, still overwhelmed.
Her gaze shifted to the giant cake at the back of the room, decorated with tiny edible panthers and lavender frosting.
"All you," you confirmed.
She spotted the children's play area you'd set up near one corner-cushions, toys, small obstacle course, a supervised mini-lab Shuri had insisted on.
"All. For. You," Shuri whispered against her hair.
"Because today, we celebrate that you are here.
That you are ours. That you are you."
Something in her posture relaxed.
You could practically see the tiny crown of confidence settle on her curls.
"Yes," you said at the same time.
Shuri narrowed her eyes at you.
"It's her birthday," you countered in a low voice.
"She can run in the kids' area. The important part is she's happy."
"Fine. A controlled sprint radius."
"You are incapable of just saying 'Okay' like a normal person."
"I am not normal people."
Nala had already bolted across the room, dress slightly lifted in her fists to avoid tripping. A small group of children-children of advisors, palace staff, Dora-broke into smiles as she approached.
One of the older girls, maybe six, handed her a toy bracelet.
"Happy birthday, Princess Nala."
Nala stared at it, then at the girl.
"That means she likes it," you heard Shuri murmur beside you.
You reached for her hand without looking and felt her fingers curl through yours instantly.
"Breathe," you teased gently.
"You're staring like she's about to fall apart."
"I am watching," Shuri corrected. "There is a difference."
You turned your head to study her profile.
Shuri Udaku. Princess. Genius. Once the rebellious younger sibling of a king.
A mother watching her child navigate a room too big for her size and too full of expectations she didn't yet understand.
But you both would make sure she never faced those expectations alone.
"You know," you said softly, "you're allowed to enjoy this too."
"I am enjoying this," Shuri protested.
"Mm-hm. You standing like you about to run diagnostics on the balloons."
You laughed, leaning into her side.
The day unfolded in warm, tangled bursts.
The day unfolded in warm, tangled bursts.
Kids shrieking with laughter as they chased holographic butterflies across the floor.
Elders watching fondly from cushioned seats, trading stories about when Shuri was small and caused similar chaos.
Ramonda standing regal and calm, occasionally bending down to whisper something that made Nala beam.
Later, you found yourself at a small table near the edge of the festivities, watching Nala show a group of kids how to "feed" one of the tiny maintenance bots crumbs of cake.
"You are going to give my machines a sugar addiction."
"They like it," Nala protested.
You nudged Shuri with your knee.
"Just accept that she has power over your robot army."
"Look at it," you said, pointing.
The bot had rolled onto its back, wiggling its little legs as Nala gently patted its metallic side.
"Good robot," she cooed. "You my friend."
Shuri rubbed her temples.
"I need to reprogram that one."
"You will not," Ramonda's voice came from behind you, lined with amusement. "It adores her. As it should."
"For all your complaints," she said quietly, "you have built a world where my granddaughter feels safe enough to love freely. Machines, people, cake... All of it."
You swallowed around the sudden tightness in your throat.
"We're trying," you managed.
"You are succeeding," Ramonda corrected gently. "Look."
Nala stood in the center of a small circle of kids, showing off something carefully.
One of the Dora, standing nearby, cleared her throat.
"She requested to see our spear earlier. We compromised with a training projection, Your Highness."
Shuri pinched the bridge of her nose.
"She is your daughter," Ramonda said.
Nala mimed a move, the projection spear light and harmless in her hands, her stance chaotic but determined. The other kids copied her, some with better form than others.
You let out a slow breath.
Shuri watched, eyes sharp, then shook her head.
"No. She should know how to defend herself," she said quietly. "But she will also know when not to fight. She will know she never has to prove she is strong enough to exist."
You knew that was for you as much as for Nala.
You leaned against her, shoulder to shoulder.
"And she will know she can always come home," you said, voice low.
Shuri glanced at you, then lowered her forehead to yours for a second, grounding herself.
After the games, the food, the cake (which Nala smashed her entire hand into because "is faster"), came the gifts.
You sat on the floor with her again, dress slightly wrinkled now, curls frizzed, frosting on her chin.
Most of the gifts were exactly what you'd expected: books with bright covers, soft toys, tiny clothes, a child-sized Dora training outfit that Okoye had presented with alarming seriousness.
And then there was Shuri's box.
Medium-sized. Wrapped in silver paper.
Nala reached for it last, hands already sticky.
"Careful sithandwa sam," Shuri said gently. "This one is special."
You watched her, remembering the way she'd stayed up nights, tinkering, frowning at holograms, muttering to herself.
Nala tore the paper open with all the subtlety of a small hurricane.
Inside was a glossy, rounded object about the size of her head, deep purple with faint, etched lines.
Nala pressed her palm against it.
The device hummed softly, then bloomed open like a flower, petals of light unfurling to reveal a hovering, semi-solid hologram: a small, sleek panther with big curious eyes.
The holographic panther tilted its head, then hopped off the base, landing on the floor with a soft distortion and a faint ripple of light.
It walked up to her, tail swishing, and nuzzled her knee.
"Of course it does," Shuri said, voice rougher than usual. "It is yours."
"What is it?" you asked quietly.
"A companion drone," Shuri replied. "Semi-solid hard light projection, programmed for basic emotional responsiveness simple games, and.."
"And protection," you finished for her, understanding.
Nala wrapped her arms around the projected panther. It flickered slightly, then stabilized, adaptive systems already adjusting to her enthusiasm.
"Name," she murmured to it. "You need name."
You watched her think hard, little face scrunched up.
"Like... hot choco. Warm. Sweet."
You couldn't help it; you laughed.
"That's actually perfect."
Shuri let out a quiet sound that might've been a choked laugh.
"Coco it is," she said softly.
The panther chirped-yes, chirped-and Nala squealed.
"Yes, baby," you said, voice warm. "Coco loves you very much."
Shuri's hand found yours again.
"And so do we," she murmured.
Nala looked up between the two of you, eyes shining, cheeks sticky, tiara crooked.
"You my best," she declared.
"You're our best, Nala.ā
Hours later, when the guests had gone and the ballroom lights dimmed, the palace felt like it had exhaled.
You carried a half-asleep Nala back to your room, her weight warm and heavy against your chest, head tucked under your chin. Coco padded silently alongside, light body making no sound.
"She's getting big," you mumbled.
Shuri walked beside you, one hand hovering near Nala's back as if she couldn't help but guard her even while you held her.
"She is growing," Shuri corrected. "Big is relative. In ten years you will say the same thing, and then twenty, and then"
"Okay, scientist," you cut in. "Don't make me emotional."
You laid Nala gently on the bed.
She stirred, eyes fluttering open.
"..Party over?" she mumbled, voice thick with sleep.
"Yeah, baby," you whispered, smoothing her curls back. "Party's over."
"No, tiny. Not this party. But we'll have other good days. Lots of them."
Shuri brushed a thumb across Nala's cheek, the way she always did when she wanted to memorize something.
"I will design as many good days as you want," she murmured. "Even if they are... less structurally elaborate than this one."
Nala blinked slowly, fighting sleep.
"Is good day," she whispered. "I like it."
Her eyes slid shut again.
You watched her breathing even out, lashes fanning against her cheeks, little mouth parted just enough to make her look like she'd run out ot batteries.
Shuri hummed in response, gaze still trained on your daughter.
"I am..." She searched for the word.
"In a terrifying way, she corrected quietly. "In a good way."
You sat down on the other side of Nala, careful not to jostle the mattress too much, fingers idly tracing circles against the comforter.
"Because," she said, glancing at you over your child's sleeping form, "I have led missions. I have designed weapons. I have resuscitated a nation's hope. None of that made me feel as..." She gestured vaguely at her chest. "...As this."
"This" was the sight of a tiny hand still curled in sleep like it might reach for you at any second.
"This" was the dried frosting on her dress, the smudge of glitter on her forehead, the way her small body took up more space in your life than any warship ever could.
"It's supposed to be scary," you whispered. "If it didn't scare you at least a little, you'd probably be doing it wrong."
Shuri huffed out a soft laugh.
"You sound like my mother."
"I'Il take that as a compliment."
"It is," she said simply.
Coco, who had been sitting loyally by the side of the bed, chirped once and did a slow circle before settling near Nala's feet. Its eyes dimmed from bright violet to a soft, pulsing glow, its systems shifting into low-power, watchful mode.
Shuri watched the drone for a moment.
"Did I overdo it?" she asked.
"With... all of it," she said. "The protection. The... contingencies."
"Shuri, you gave her a best friend who can't be bribed, scared, or taken trom her," you said softly. "You didn't overdo it. You did what you always do."
"And what is that?" she asked, almost wary.
"You built something that says 'I love you' in your language," you replied. "Circuits and code and light. You just... wrapped your heart in vibranium and gave it legs."
"That sounds. inefficient," she muttered.
"It's perfect," you corrected.
She swallowed, eyes going shiny at the edges before she blinked it away.
You reached across Nala's sleeping form, palm facing up.
Shuri's fingers slid into yours anyway.
Later, when Nala was deeply asleep and Coco was quietly patrolling the perimeter of the room, you and Shuri slipped out onto the balcony.
The Wakandan night was thick and velvet, the city below scattered with soft lights. Airships drifted lazily past in the distance, like stars that had gotten tired of staying still.
You leaned on the railing, stretching your back with a soft groan.
"You did spend six hours bending and lifting and chasing a small hurricane in socks," Shuri said, standing beside you.
"First of all, she's your small hurricane too.ā
Second of all, I wore shoes for at least two of those hours."
"Ah. That explains your superior posture."
You nudged her hip with yours.
"Yes," she admitted. "But it is... satisfying. Like after completing a difficult upgrade."
"You really can't go five minutes without turning life into a lab report."
"This from the woman who makes analogies about photography every time she is emotional."
She turned her head, giving you a look that clearly said You hear yourself, right?
You laughed quietly, then let the silence settle between you-comfortable, easy.
Down below, soft music still floated on the air from distant parts of the palace. People cleaning up. People laughing. Life, continuing.
"Do you ever think about it?" you asked, voice low.
'''It' is... vague," she replied. "Which 'it'?"
"Before this," you said. "Before us. Before her."
Shuri's shoulders rose and fell.
"Sometimes," she said. "Less now."
"Because I feel..." She hesitated, searching.
You turned to face her fully now.
"Yes. Like someone took my code and added entire functions I did not know I could run." Her lips quirked. "Old Shuri would find that metaphor dramatic."
"She'd also think you were soft," you teased.
"Oh, she absolutely would," Shuri agreed. "And she would be correct."
"I am aware," she murmured, stepping closer.
Your backs were to the city now, your front to her. Hands found each other with the same easy certainty they always did.
"Thank you," you said suddenly.
"For today. For all the days before this. For... choosing this with me. Even when it's messy and loud and sticky and-"
A small smile played across her lips.
"You act as if I ever had a chance to choose against you," she said. "You climbed into my life like you climbed onto that roof-loud, chaotic, and entirely certain you belonged there."
"Are you seriously bringing up the roof again?"
"It was a critical moment in my character development."
You opened your mouth to argue, then stopped, softer now.
"I was scared, too," you admitted. "Back then.
When we... talked about this. Having her."
"I know," Shuri said, no judgment in her voice.
"You thought you would... break something."
"I've broken a lot of things," you said quietly.
"l've survived a lot of things. I didn't... know if | had a gentle in me. Not one that would last."
"You were gentle with me," she said.
"You're... you. You're strong. You know how to fix what breaks. When it came to a kid..."
"I didn't want to be the reason she ever learned the hard way that love can... leave."
"She will learn that the world can be unkind," Shuri said quietly. "I cannot stop that. I will try, but I cannot. What I can do-what we can do-is ensure that when she thinks of love, she thinks of this."
She gestured gently-toward the room behind you, toward the palace, toward the city.
"Of hands that catch her when she runs too fast. Of arguments that end with understanding, not silence. Of apologies given freely. Of... pancakes."
"Not you adding pancakes to the love language list."
"And yet," she said, stepping close enough that your noses almost brushed, "you love me."
"Every version of you," you replied. "The one who builds weapons, the one who builds toys, the one who falls asleep reading to our kid on the couch... all of them."
"Even the one who lectures you about safety protocols?"
"Especially that one," you said, then added, "Not during, though."
She hummed, low in her throat.
"That Shuri is also quite efficient."
You laughed into her mouth as she kissed you, breath mingling, the world outside the balcony blurring at the edges. Her hands slid up your sides, careful, knowing every dip and curve the way she knew her own tech-intimately, reverently.
It wasn't the rushed kind of kiss. It was the familiar kind-the kind that said we did another day, we made it, we're still here.
When you broke apart, foreheads pressed together, you could both hear it: the soft, sleepy voice from inside.
"Bast, she has impeccable timing."
"Unfortunately," Shuri murmured, "I do."
Back inside, Nala had rolled onto her side, one small fist rubbing at her eye. Coco perked up instantly, eyes brightening.
You perched at the edge of the bed.
She blinked at you, still half-dreaming.
"Forget what?" Shuri asked, kneeling on the other side.
Nala frowned, clearly troubled.
"I forget to say... thank you."
"For what, little panther?" Shuri's voice had gone almost soundless.
Nala's eyes moved between you, heavy-lidded but sincere.
"For today," she whispered. "For... my party. For Coco. For... you."
Something hot pricked the backs of your eyes.
You leaned down, kissing her forehead.
"You said it, baby," you murmured. "You said it with your whole little body all day."
"Every time you laughed," Shuri said gently, brushing a curl from her face. "Every time you shared your toys. Every time you ran back to us just to say 'look! That was thank you."
Nala thought about this, then nodded, satisfied.
Her eyes started to close again, but then she cracked them open just a sliver.
"One more thing," she whispered.
You and Shuri both leaned in.
She lifted a hand clumsily, resting it over both of yours where they met in the middle of the bed.
"Always," you and Shuri answered together.
She smiled, a tiny, sleepy thing.
And just like that, she was out again.
You and Shuri stayed there, hands linked under the soft weight of your daughter's palm. Coco settled by the headboard, eyes dimming once more, silent sentinel.
After a while, you shifted, lying down fully beside Nala, curving your body protectively around her. A moment later, you felt the mattress dip on the other side as Shuri did the same, her arm draping over both of you in one long, warm line.
You could feel her breathing slow, feel your own body finally unclench after a day of joy and motion and noise.
In the hush of the room, with the city a low murmur beyond the windows, it hit you:
Not the fireworks of the past, not the constant, jagged edge of survival.
Warm weight at your back.
Soft mechanical purr at the foot of the bed.
You exhaled, letting yourself sink into it.
"Hey," you whispered into the dark, not sure if Shuri was awake.
"Yes?" came the quiet reply against your neck.
"You were wrong," you murmured.
"Earlier," you said. "You said tomorrow might be perfect."
You felt her smile against your skin.
"It already was," you said. "It already is."
Her arm tightened around you, around both of you, like she was anchoring the moment in place.
"Then," she whispered, voice barely louder than a breath, "let's make a thousand more just like it."
"Deal," you whispered back.
And in the quiet heart of Wakanda, in a room lit only by the soft pulse of a tiny panther's eyes, your family slept-wrapped up in each other, wrapped up in love, wrapped up in the kind of ordinary, extraordinary peace you'd once never believed you'd live long enough to hold.
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