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pettybetty69 · 1 year

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𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 - 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

Young T'Challa x Enhanced!reader Word Count: 4.8K Masterlist | Part Two

January 1996

You got in.

It didn’t feel as good as you thought it would.

Hearing the news delivered by your school's headmaster and praise from your professors besides Volkov unsettled something within you.

It felt.....superficial. As if deep down they all knew you didn't deserve it. Like their professional nods or smiles were nothing but a mere facade. Home wasn't much better. When your mother got home that evening she ripped you a new one. You were sent off to bed without dinner to "sit with what you've done." While on your bed, eating a peach from a tree that sprouted from the floor, the consequence only made your feelings stronger. After what those men did to Fina and they were mad at you?! Ridiculous! You couldn’t rid the image of her petrified eyes.You were right to do what you did! You were... right?

There was no point to questioning because you were.

…..You had to be.

The only thing you felt guilty for was how you spoke to your Zio. It crawled at your skin. You could barely sleep because of it. When you did, you drowned in a nightmare that woke you up shivering in tears. It was the vivid image of your father’s disappointment. The droop of his stormy eyes, the frown hidden within his graying beard. Its vividity clouded you as you sat at the kitchen island in the early hours in the morning waiting for Roberto to wake. He forgave you when he woke. It was wholehearted and sealed with a prolonged hug. Yet as you hugged, you didn’t feel any better. If anything you felt worse. Like the forgiveness was handed over, not deserved.

Professor Volkov was getting to your head. Talking to someone didn't stop the thoughts from rolling in anymore. You couldn’t take it. You locked her words and doubts into a bottle that sat in the deepest crevice within yourself. It wasn’t like anything bad ever came from doing so.

_________________________________________

T'Challa didn't often question himself. At 15, he was one of the most academically intelligent teenagers in the world. Other than his uncle, it was rare for anyone to question his intelligence, let alone him.

He had grown to know your voice over the months. The accented sound of it. There was a rasp to it and an expressiveness which made him feel like he could see the grin, laugh, or frown upon your face when he'd hear it. When you got in, he expected to hear the excitement in it which would make his heart palpatate. There was a softness to it he didn't concieve was even possible. It was fragile like a rare crystal glass. He heard you unrelentingly question yourself and the credibility of the program.

It made no sense to him. It puzzled him. To him, it was clear: if someone wasn't capable, they wouldn't have gotten it. Yes, nepotisim was out there, but it wouldn't effect a prestigious organization. Yet again, he recalled the first day he met you.

"It isn't exactly a surmise..."

But the ambassadors had nothing to do with this, he reason. You had applied and won. They said any student within the selected schools was a contender, therefore it was fair. All within reason.

He heard you dismiss the paranoia rather quickly. There was a small voice that whispered to him not to let it go. He must have been getting ill, he thought. But then was not the time to be. Soon enough the program would embark and soon enough you'd be seeing each other.

______

A room that was spacious but minuscule compared to the assembly room was set for the program. There were four round tables with five seats at each placed in an expanded square. There was also a long and thick rectangular one parallel to the windows that viewed the Hudson.

He’d arrived an hour early with two Dora who watched his every move. The room was filled a small number of photographers, a drove of security, and by now, appearingly eighteen other members. The two women, Uuka and Akonya, observed the room with intimidating glares. But that was the Dora Milaje. Observant, deadly, and devoted. The fiercest protectors of Wakanda and its small royal family.

He stood stiff and concealed beside them, practicing stoicism. He knew they'd report every little detail to his uncle under his kingly request. From looking at a girl a second too long to the make and model of the watch on his wrist which he frequently checked. He knew they disagreed with the King's decision of his foreign residency. That beneath it all they supported him. But at the end of the day, they were Dora; and they were to serve the ruler of the Wakandan throne. So stoicism it was.

He checked his watch again. It was fifteen minutes until the meeting was to begin. He hid a sigh, not necessarily annoyed because he was well aware of the time management track record of Latins.

As if on queue, the double doors to the room swung open and a small mass of guards marched through. It caught his attention and those around. There was a girl in the center with refined posture and narrow roseate face. He immediately recognized her as the Princess of Morocco and she was suddenly unmistakingly staring right at him.

A glimpse of what was past her shoulder made his breath hold. There you were. Just there. There in a nice amber dress with curtains of your curls pinned back from your face. That face. Caramel-toned and sharp, but carried a warmth the sun would cower to. The sun. It's brightness couldn't compare to vivid shade of green that made his chest feel as though it were melting.

The image of you was shutting away. 3/4th's of the way through there was a dull ram. He jolted, aware of his surroundings again and that the guards let the door close on you. He ignored the miniscule tinker of pique that struck in his stomach.

An Italian sounding "ouch" muffled through the door.

He affirmed the Dora it was fine but fully aware they still followed his every step. He walked past the last of the men with a glare of resentment.

"Gaia, what happened to chivalry?" The same muffled voice scolded sarcastically.

The sound of your voice made him chuckle and he opened the door. There you were again. He gulped. Those bright eyes traveled up is body and met his eyes. The sun wouldn't dare to rival the ball of light that exhibited before him. That smile grew like the cheshire cat.

"There it is." You grinned.

"Hey. Oh-"

He stumbled back on his feet feeling the sudden weight of a person on him. The lack of space gave him no space to think. There was a squeeze from the arms wrapped around his upper half. A head of soft curls were burried in his face. The heat of another person against his chest. There was a soft woodland scent of a perfume. He shut his eyes just for a moment. Then he thought of how the Dora must be a second from pouncing. Luckily, as his uncomfortable hold softened, you did too.

He could see your face once more. Bright and lively, he wondered if it was because you were in New York again. He remembered you telling about how one of your aunts was from one of the buroughs.

"I missed you, if you couldn't tell." You gushed, joyously. Missed?

"I didn't know you had such an inkling for New York." He stated.

"No. Well... yes, partially. Signore Delmar's sandwiches, i've been dreaming of them for the past week." You rambled on. "Anyway, it's you who I'm primarily happy to see. I've missed you. Truly."

He felt the uncomfortable feeling arise again. You tilted your head with a playful curiousity. He then realized he hadn't spoken spacial moment.

"It has only been a mere few months."

"Four." You corrected.

"Four, yes. We spoke just three days ago."

"Speaking is different than seeing."

He knew that. He knew that too well.

"Is your staring going to a regular occurance, Challa? Or shall you take a picture? It will last longer." You brazenly teased. He scoffed.

"Is your candid transparancy going to be constant, Alessa?"

Your chin tilted down, your eyes scanning your solidity. He laughed.

"Bast, stop it. Always?"

You giggled and playfully narrowed your focus accusingly. "Aren't you supposed to be a genius?"

"Am."

"One of us has to be." You shrugged. "We both know that isn't going to be you."

Us. We. The words waved through him. Us. We. There was a curl that had fallen from the pinned back curtains. He had the urge to lift his hand and brush it back behind your ear. He imagined what the skin of your cheek could feel like as his fingertips scathed past. It was smooth and looked softer than kente cloth.

Your head had tilted once more. It was familiar. You felt familiar. A primal feeling within him. Not only from the day he met you, but with every phone call too. He felt like he knew you.

There was a snap of the camera. With the flash, the moment died. He flicked his head to see one of the photographers stroll off and aim her camera at the instructor with another member.

"Challa, what's going on?" You asked. Your sight was bouncing around the room before you both, colder than moments prior. Seemingly, analyzing it like a sponge.

“There was a form about giving permission to be photographed. They must have good use for it." He reasoned. "It would not be done if it wasn't necessary."

He watched over every inch of your face. Partially, taking in the long absence of it, the other half trying to configure what you were thinking. Your more than apparent transparency made it easy for him: Unease.

"I don't know, Challa."

"Concrete reason hasn't been given to believe otherwise. Nervousness is to be expected when facing the unfamiliar. The amygdala engages, expulses cortisol and adrenilline-"

"Triggering the sympatheic nervous system." You finished. The words rolled off your tongue. Your face finally turned to him. An expression came across it. One he couldn't decipher. "If the genius says it, it must be true." You teased again. There was a small smile and a half-hearted chuckle.

The lack of acknowledgement to your own. He resulted to shaking his head.

"It's ten minutes till. The seats should be filling soon. I-" He stopped himself. "Shall we sit?"

You shrugged nonchalantly, like the joining word was ordinary. "Just tell me where."

You could see over the months he had grown taller, a little fitter... maybe a little cuter. Was handsome the appropriate word? You didn't know. His practicality and mellowness was something you grew to enjoy. He was different from the constant rambling and the macho/feverent boys you knew. Though there was some part about him that made you wonder what was underneath.

You were almost sure what you were feeling wasn't nerves. There was something you couldn't explain. They were too well dressed. There was one too many photographers. Maybe T'Challa was right. Jumping the gun had only gotten you in trouble.

He was right, as within a few minutes, the last empty table filled. Everyone had tiny pins of their nations flag to their shirts. At yours was a standoffish white boy from South Africa. Next, a boy from Egypt who you couldn't tell if he was simply uncomfortable speaking to girls or uncomfortable in the sense of possessing misogyny; because he refused to hold any conversation with anyone beside the two boys. Lastly, a clearly reluctant girl from Argentina. She was every obviously disappointed her seat was the last was available, as with the South African boy. What a crowd.

The boys spoke amongst themselves and the girl had no interest in the decency of a respose. You let it go and watched the room. Instead of the regular 2 to 4 photographers there were six. A good mix of men and women but all were physically fit dressed black uniforms. There were four security cameras in each corner, a substance similar to a microphone attached to each.

*snap*

There was a man who began to take center stage of the room by the windows. The boys conversation seemingly finished and you leaned close to T'Challa.

"What's his name? I didn't read the guide." You whispered.

"Of course you didn't." He whispered back, cheekily.

"Shut up."

He snickered to himself. "His name is Adam Goldman."

This "Adam Goldman" looked like every other 30 something year old diplomat in a nice powder blue suit. His dirty blonde hair was gelled and his perfectly aligned teeth were unnaturally white. Very American.

You barely realized your had raised an eyebrow until T'Challa abruptly: "Do not even start, Alessa."

"What?" You accused, innocently.

"He's more than qualified and his resume is legitimate. Its been checked." He explained in an attempt to tame your traveling suspicons. You sighed. It sort of worked. Though you did wonder how he knew. But that question could wait.

"If the genius says so." You teased. He shook his head with a sharp breath but his attempted repressed smile couldn't be missed. "But thanks."

You could sense a rush of dopamine within that head of his. His wide-set eyes were less melancholic than the last time, you noted. The shared gaze lingered a little longer than it should have and like the time before, he turned his attention to the front and you followed.

"Settle down, everyone. Settle." A few of the adults laughed as it seems most tables didn't say a word to one another. The man's deep eyes scanned the small audience. A man cam He looked back to you, you wondered if he did it on purpose or not.

"Welcome, everyone. My name is Adam Goldman and I have honorably been selected to be the moderator and instructor for the UN's first youth leadership program. My job is little compared to the twenty of you. The selection of each and every one of you was handled delicately and with care. Please give yourselves a round of applause."

Everyone did as told.

He embarked in a speech with a brief explanation of his humble origins. Very brief. He then dove in an extensive list of accomplishments and influential allies. Presidents, prime ministers, monarchs, senators, and ambassadors. Extensive. He proceeded to say he was there to be a "mentor for your young minds" and to "share my vast knowledge to youth."

You didn't like him. Not one bit.

Goldman had the room introduce themselves one by one. As the room went around the churn began again. There was a few familiar surnames, a duke, a viscount, even a princess. Most attended prestigious boarding schools between New England or Madrid area. Last was your table and T'Challa went first.

"I am Prince T'Challa, son of King T'Chaka of Wakanda. I'm fifteen years of age." It was easy to forget he was what he was. His posture as refined as it was, his Wakandan accent clear as blue sky, and his clean cut sweater should have made it obvious.

He continued: "This is an good opportunity and i've learned the importance of making use of them."

You could feel a heat across your cheeks. The dress over your lap was all you could muster your courage to see.

He did sound very princely. It was easy to forget he was what he was. You should have known by his posture as refined as it was, his Wakandan voice clearer than a blue sky, and sweater as clean cut as it was; it A blush came across your cheeks.

"I will share with you, your highness. When I discovered Wakanda had decided to join the forum, I was shocked. Believe me when I tell you that says a lot." Goldman spoke with a pompous chuckle. Gross.

T'Challa dryly nodded his head anyway. Goldman continued: "After the invasion and tragic passing of the King, your nation's willingness to participate has not gone unappreciated by me."

There was a change in his eyes. He seemed to freeze beside you. You could sense a change in his head. Cortisol and adrenaline were what you could identify.

He only nodded again. Underneath the table, you put your hand over his. His neck tensed. You removed your hand immediately.

"And you, young lady?"

"Yes, signore?"

He raised his light eyebrows, motioning you to continue.

"My name is Alessandra Vitale. I am representing Italy and will be fifteen a week from today. As for the reason I'm here, will and nepotism are to thank."

Chuckles came to the room.

His diplomatic face overcame with an unsurprised chuckle. "Your transparency is noted, Ms. Vitale. I see you hold up to your family's name."

"I can hope. But, it's quite obvious I'm not the only one here under the same conditions." You joked. No one was laughing. Not a smirk, not a smile, just a thick silence.

"Be careful, Ms. Vitale. Your comments may leave some of your acquaintances offended."

"Offense? For what, honesty?" You impulsively refuted.

"Rudeness. As I hope you all read the paperwork as asked, any kind of bullying will not be permited." He spoke to the room.

"Bullying? Where does that come from? How is Honesty bullying?" You asked. He started to get more serious.

"That's enough, Ms. Vitale."

"But I'm just aski-"

"Enough. Ms. Olivera, please."

*snap*

Great.

______

A flash, another flash, one after another made you feel like you were going to throw up.

T'Challa was close behind you as you sat in a tall chair in front of him. The two of you were at the edge of three horizontal rows with 18 other strangers for photographs. Smiles were plastered, and it was clear; all of you were a bit unsure about what was happening.

Mr. Goldman stepped close to you as you were on the edge. You looked up and noticed a thin scar underneath his chin. He spoke to the cameras. "These are our chosen ambassadors for the UN's first youth program. They are our future and will be working with our most experienced to know how to build a bigger and better future for all. In two weeks, we will be meeting in Madrid to tour the city, discuss assignments, and begin our outreach."

It was like a collective breath released when you all could break away. T'Challa offered his hand before you had the chance to get out of your seat. It soft but the pads were calloused. "Thank you." You smiled.

He hummed in acknowledgment. He appeared a bit better than before, but still, a sadness still lingered. He opened his mouth to say something when his attention went behind you. You turned, and it was the charismatic instructor.

"I apologize from my interuption. But Ms. Vitale, I'd like to speak to you before you go."

You didn't want to but did anyway. You told T'Challa you would find him in a bit, and you walked with Goldman to the quieter corner of the room above one of the cameras. You could feel it on you.

"So, Ms. Vitale. I believe we may have gotten off on the wrong foot. Being an enemy is not my intention. My only job here is to be a mentor and mediator for you all."

You stared at him, analyzing him with every thing you've learned. Other than his ostentatiousness, you couldn't distinguish what it was.

"Mmhmm." You hummed disatisfied.

His ordinary face appeared put off.

"What's the deal with the cameras?" You questioned, not breaking a glare. "It's a bit excessive, don't you think?"

"They're here to capture everything, Ms. Vitale. The photos will be used for the newspaper spreads and features on morning programs. This is all featured on the guide."

Of course it is, you thought

"And the members? I don't think there's a single person in here who doesn't descend from some form of noteriety. Royalty, politicans, and billionaires. Quite the deception for a 'fair chance.' "

His chin lifted higher. "Nothing appears to pass you, Ms. Vitale." He chuckled to defuse the tension.

"So my answer wasn't wrong?" You shot.

"No. No it was not." He surrendered. He looked around to see who was near and who could be watching. He drew you outside the door, far enough the cameras.

"What I am going to tell you, I trust is between you, me, and the fencepost." He prefaced. You struggled to remove your glare.

"When there's a name attached to a cause bigger traction is brought. There are many sectors who we are working with are in need of as much as they can get. Animal sanctuaries, children's hospitals, rec centers. The Vitale/De la Vega association alone would help them tremendously." He empathiezed passionately.

"This does not mean your aquaintences are unqualified, Ms. Vitale. But if you give them a chance, you may see what they are capable of."

You recalled Signora Volkov's conversation. You felt bad now. Guilt came in a pounding wave to your chest.

He seemed to sense it because he began to speak gently. "I must admit, I have a strong admiration for your family. Sébastian De la Vega, I've been listening to him since the 70s. He was a man of such passion and dignity. I had the privilege of seeing his final show; it was a blessing to hear him sing. Do you?"

"It's a blessing not to hear me sing, signore." You admitted. His diplomatic laugh seemed less disingenous.

"How unfortunate genetics can be. But they can be a blessing. TO me, there is no question you have your mother's wits. Ambassador Vitale... even as a grown man I find her a tad terrifying."

She snickered a little bit. "Yeah, tell me about it."

"Terrifying, but undeniably brilliant. Even now, how much she has done for society as a whole understated. I along with many others are desperate to know what your grandparents did to raise the triplets to be such driving forces."

You shrugged with a snicker, not knowing the answer.

"If you are anything like your family, you will thrive here. I'm just here to help if needed, though I highly doubt you will need it."

"Not as of now, signore."

He took a long breath and looked back into the room quickly. "It appears you are also quite close with the Prince of Wakanda. I've spoken with him briefly earlier. He's quite a tough nut to crack." He said in a light tone.

"I mean, I guess." You shrugged your shoulders again.

"It may be unprofessional of me to ask if the pair of you are- how do the kids say it? 'Going steady?' "

"Going steady?"

"It must be a sole American term. I mean to ask if the pair of you are dating."

Your heart suddenly pounded. "Dating? No. No. We're friends." You just realized you were rambling.

"Well." He sighed, setting his arms firm against his side. "This talk has been eye-opening. I wish you the best of luck, Ms. Vitale. I look forward to working with you."

"Thanks. Ditto, Mr. Goldman." Maybe you were wrong. He seemed professional and personable. Sure, he was overly charismatic to the cameras. But after all, everyone puts on a little bit of a show.

You found T'Challa not long before it was time to leave. You found him near the walls, face utterly stoic. Cyprus would be proud.

"A coin for your thoughts?" You wandered to him.

"My opinion of diplomatic politics is descending alarmingly quick."

This made you laugh. "Bast sent a partner to bear through it, remember?"

"I am considering the rope may have been the better option."

A laugh was shared.

"So, how was the boy from Egypt?"

He sighed tiredly. That's all you needed to know.

*Snap*

"Oh Gaia, I'm going to break one of those cameras I tell you!" You hissed to yourself. You avoided sending a glare to the photographer because she was doing her job, but still it was very irrating.

"That would be an marvelous way to embark this year. Destruction of property." He sarcasically teased.

"Shut up." You giggled, slightly embarrased. He seemed to have a field day with himself. It was nice to see his smile. It made you. He checked his watch after a few moments.

"Is time running out?" You asked afraid of the answer.

"I will call you Monday before classes, approximately the fourteenth hour. You'll be at the cafe, I presume."

"Oh? So you're calling so soon?"

Quiet confusion spread across his noble face.

"I thought three days was no big deal. Or four months for a matter of fact." You continued. He rolled his eyes again.

"You missed me. Face it." You spat with a smile on your face. He sucked in a breath as he appeared to search for words.

"Two weeks without your long tirades will break me from my routine."

"I'll fullfill my duty if you fullfill yours."

"And what is that?"

"Being a logical nuisanse. Deal?"

"Deal. Monday?"

"Monday."

Goodbyes took longer than expected. There was always one more thing that had to be said. More like, one more thing you had to say. It perpetuated when he realized you were there by yourself. He admitted he didn't like the idea of you wandering the city alone. What he didn't admit was how it made him nervous. Purposefully, you waited to tell him your mother was friends with the head of UN security. You took this time to take in every inch of his royal face. The ascend and descend of his beating heart. How mellow his Wakandan tone was. How dopamine would flood when your gazes would linger.

He was cute. Really cute. He was right as per usual. About Goldman. Maybe about the program too. You felt safe around him. You felt at peace. It took his guards approaching with their scattered vibranium shutting you up for the two of you to part ways.

----------

A roaring engine echoed off basement parking walls. The valet swift caught a pair of keys. Steps echoed down a luminecent hallway. An elevator and another followed by a steep descent of stairs. A room with several screens installed into a cement wall replayed footage. A few agents were jotting down the details of images.

"Report: The thirteenth of January, 1996. Currently: 0200 hours of the fourteenth of January 1996. A.G. will be speaking his account." An agent spoke into an audio recorder.

"Session one is completed. All attendees are in place along with their private security. Positive reception from the ladder and former. I suggest we proceed slowly with our implements."

"Is there an order of recommendation?"

"After session two in Madrid, persuade Germany with practicality and the US with financal convience."

"Agreed?"

The agents murmered agreements. "Any obstacles?"

The man hesitated. "A potential few."

"Wakanda's guards are severely protective over him. Handle delicately. Either they will be one of the last to persuade or engage in moments they are preoccupied. There are high paying partners who are waiting, so we must acclimate."

"Anything else?"

"Potentially Italy. She's suspicous. From my observance she is socially intelligent, guarded, and brazen. The mother-daughter relationship is turbulent but the mother's traits are indubitably strong. She and Wakanda are attached at the hip. It's claimed to be a friendship between the two parties but their behavior clearly dictates otherwise. He is severely intelligent but socially ignorant. If he doesn't catch on, his guards certainly will if the Italy-Wakanda companionship pursues.

"I told you all a Vitale was too risky! It'll damn us all!" Twenty-four individuals all snapped to hiss at the renegade agent.

A sullen looking man watched them discuss. He was slouched in a steel chair. "You Americans are like child. Weak and coward." He spat in broken English.

"Violence attracts suspicion, Nakamura. You are ordered to disengage." The commander said. "This is an order for all of you."

The man rolled his eyes and spat a foreign slur. "Dare to doubt my ability?" He scoffed. "I make short and quick. No witness, no mistake. She will keep quiet."

"You are ordered to disengage." The commander repeated, intimidatingly.

He laughed humorless with shake of his head. "Forget deal already? My ambassador gave direct orders-"

"Damn your orders! You are in America now and you are to follow your superior's orders! And I am ordering to disengage!"

The man sat back in his seat, a seething snarl on his scarred upper lip.

The room was quiet.

"I am confident in my capablities to keep Italy at bay, sir. She's still a young girl who hasn't lost her naivety. As long as they're seperated, I believe we are ready to proceed."

"Then we will. Close the recording." The commander turned to the speaker. "We'll rendevous in two weeks, Adam."

"Of course, sir."

#black panther x reader #t'challa x reader #t'challa x oc #young t'challa #marvelau #young t'challa x reader #fanfiction #marvel fanfiction

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griots-tales · 2 years

Text

Princess! (Shuri fluff)

Hey guys! so this is my first ever fic on here, and it's up on Wattpad too, if you wanna read it there! Please do reblog/ comment and gimme feedback :D I'd love to hear it!

Word count: 1100 Warning: Menstruation, some sexual stuff referenced (about T'Challa), puking Characters: Shuri, T'Challa, Ramonda, T'Chaka

"Get off my bed, bighead!"

T'Challa playfully tackled his sister as her dirt-clad self rolled around in his once-well-made bed, refusing to go. Pillows lay randomly on the floor where they had landed after either missing or hitting either sibling. The mud stains, which particularly annoyed the older brother, stood out sorely against the white sheets.

The Prince might have been too old for pillow fights (over 31 in fact,) but he couldn't help but return the twelve-year-old's taunts.

He had finally got hold of another pillow that was soft enough to safely attack his sister with: THUMP! it flopped on her head, flattening her already out-of-shape afro. She shrieked, curling into a ball against the onslaught of the pillow. Giggling endlessly, she suffered only a few more hits until... they stopped. A moment passed before she finally had to curiously peek from under her head to see if it was a trap.

T'Challa had lowered the weapon and was scratching his beard with a faint smile on his face. Shuri was puzzled to her core.

"What happened?"

"I'll tell you if you don't get too cocky about it." T'Challa rolled his neck.

"I'll make sure to be cocky. Go on,"

Her brother sighed. "You got your first period."

"YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEah!"

"Shuri, slow down..." "Yes, take some rest,"

The child's parents tried to calm her down from her two-hour-long euphoric episode. T'Challa sat at the table too, chuckling as he watched his baby sister have the zoomies around the dining room.

"Rest is for peasants. I'm a Princess now." She paused only for a second before leaping onto a nearby chair and somersaulting down (like her Mama had taught her).

"SHURI-" Ramonda's eyes widened. "I've told you not to do that indoors!"

"Sorry mama..." the girl exited, now jumping onto furniture that lay out of their sight.

T'Challa sighed for the third time that day. "Baba, would you consider upping the age for Royal titles?"

T'Chaka smiled weakly. "It's tradition, my son... it's not of much use, but it has never done any harm, has it?"

"But maybe the belief about puberty making Royal children more mature about their titles isn't necessarily true?" Ramonda chipped in, ladling some steaming stew into her bowl. "Children don't really change that quickly..." She gazed through the intricate wooden screen at her daughter happily frolicking, albeit a little slower now.

"Maybe. They are more likely to... take it to the head." The King murmured, eyeing his son.

The Prince exaggerated an expression of betrayal. "Baba I was the nicest child ever! Not like her..."

"I HEARD THAT!" Shuri called from outside.

T'Chaka chuckled. "Nicest child, huh? Is that why you got a boyfriend the week after you became a Prince?"

"He's still bitter about that..." Ramonda whispered mischievously, passing her son the soup.

"I'm not bitter: It's just that this good boy just disregarded my advice the moment he hit puberty... I was scared that you would become rebellious!"

T'Challa rolled his eyes ever so slightly. "Baba which other father in Wakanda tells his son that boyfriends are only for after sixteen?"

"The kind of father who knows that every part of his son's public life matters when he upholds his reputation as a King."

"It wasn't public..."

"- It will be once you drift apart, T'Challa..." his mother pointed out. "You can't expect that one person you dated in eighth grade to keep everything he knew about you, private.... especially not when you're the regular talk of the town."

The Prince shrugged, biting into a piece of buttery flatbread. "I guess... except for the fact that we hooked up again a few weeks ago."

His parents exhaled in unison, their greying eyebrows rising as their eyes rolled. The Prince giggled into his mouthful of food.

"Really? While we're eating?"

"What-? What do you think we did?"

"You just said 'hook up', what else does it mean?"

"I'm more concerned about the 'again'... you two were just thirteen when you dated," T'Chaka half-whispered, with his face lined with concern.

"Baba..." T'Challa groaned " 'again' means that I had done it a month ago too!"

"Done what?" Shuri beamed, trotting in.

"Done his dinner, unlike you," Ramonda answered, gesturing at the seat beside T'Challa's.

"It's definitely not that," Shuri sassed, but obeyed her mother for once, "why are you keeping secrets from me?"

"It's no secret..." her brother nonchalantly waved the second piece of flatbread.

"This is why I sometimes get concerned, T'Challa..." T'Chaka sighed.

"That he eats dinner?" Shuri injected.

"No, sister, Baba thinks that I have too many boyfriends."

The girl shrugged. "I mean, you do... this is the third time I said hello to a new, muscular guy this week."

Ramonda stuffed her face with some curry to not laugh.

"Be quiet, it's only three." T'Challa defended, trying not to laugh as well.

"Only three- you know what? Let us stop talking about your boyfriends and eat in peace."

The family complied, quieting down and switching to a less controversial subject.

"Remember our visit to the University?"

"Oh yes, and the b- oh no..."

Ramonda rose from her seat as Shuri began gagging all of a sudden-

"I- can't eat!" the poor girl teared up from the reflex and stumbled out of her seat.

T'Chaka and his son stopped eating, cringing sympathetically as the Princess retched into the sink outside. Her mother rubbed her back and called for some lemon and medicine to be brought to soothe the nausea.

"It's okay, it's okay... it's normal." They could hear her say.

"Ughh...." Shuri croaked as she returned after a while to the dining room. "I'm not looking forward to being a princess,"

"There are so many things that will help you feel better, umtwana..." her father reassured her, "You'll be able to get into a routine as you get older."

"Yes, and you'll know what to keep ready, so that the effects won't be as bad."

"And you'll have people to do it for you if you're busy," T'Challa added, warmly hugging her with his free arm.

Shuri sighed. "Okay... but I still can't eat."

"A soup is being made for you right now, and it isn't too strongly flavored. You'll be fine." Her Mama smiled, patting her head.

The Princess returned it faintly before climbing onto her brother's seat and curling up next to him.

"Are you going to sleep here?" The Prince continued his loud munching, resuming his duty to annoy his sister.

"Mm." came a reply that he had no choice but to accept. The Black Panther he may be, but he never dared to disturb his sister once she fell asleep.

The crickets chirped as the night settled again. It was only at the end of the meal that T'Challa woke Shuri up so that she could check out Wakanda's best night pads of all time.

#young Shuri #Shuri fanfiction #Shuri #Wakanda #Wakanda forever #T'Challa #Ramonda #T'Chaka #tchalla #tchaka #black panther #t'challa #black panther fic #black panther fanfiction #wakanda #mine #griots-tales

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the-desilittle-bird · 1 year

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Tag List Registration

Requests are always open and well appreciated.

So, if anyone wishes to Request something for the characters and celebrities mentioned below, feel free to go.

Daemon Targaryen

Oneshots

Realm's Desire

Honour of our House (Sequel to Realm's Desire)

The Present as It Is (Sequel to Honour of our House)

Dreams and Dragons

Dancing with Dragons

Never Yours

In The Stories

Blessings of the Goddess

In the Silence

The Dragon of North (Sequel to Never Yours)

False Accusations

For Your Sake

For Them

Without Him

Aemond Targaryen

Oneshots

Not in Our Destiny

In the Darks of Night (Sequel to Not in Our Destiny)

Rage of a Mother

The Crimson Lady

The Crimson Queen (Sequel to Crimson Lady)

Twisted Feelings

Twisted Love (Sequel to Twisted Feelings)

Beloved Sister (Platonic! Also, Aegon x Reader)

Fire of Desire

You Love Me Right?

Headcanons

Being Rhaenyra's Daughter and taking Aemond's Eye Part 2

Being Reborn in Wizarding World with Aemond

Series

The White Dragon (Also, Cregan x reader)

Cregan Stark

Series

The White Dragon (Also, Aemond x reader)

Oneshots

The Dragon of North (Sequel to Never )

Headcanons

Being Cregan Stark's Young Wife Would Include

Aegon II Targaryen (Only on Request)

Oneshots

For A Better Future

My Gorgeous Princess

Beloved Sister (Platonic! Also, Aemond x Reader)

Helaena Targaryen (Only on Request)

Oneshots

Ecliptic Wedding

Preferences

First Meeting

Being in an Arranged Marriage

Defending Your Honor

You are a Foreign Delegate

Tony Stark

A Woman of a Kind

Steve Rogers

Thor Odinson

Loki Laufeyson

Peculiar Thing

Doctor Stephen Strange

Bucky Barnes

Broken Beings

T'Challa Udaku

Something New

Carlisle Cullen

Marry Me

Edward Cullen

Jasper Hale

Under the Moon

Aro Volturi

Marcus Volturi

Caius Volturi

Demetri Volturi

Benjamin

Draco Malfoy

The Kiss of the Dark

Tom Riddle

Percival Graves

Albus Dumbledore

The Fate Awaits (Sister!Reader)

Grieving the Dead (Sequel to The Fate Awaits)

Gellert Grindelwald

The Fate Awaits (Wife!Reader)

Grieving the Dead (Sequel to The Fate Awaits)

Aleksander Morovoza

Nikolai Lantsov

Robert Downey Jr.

Chris Evans

Is Air Conditioner Working?

Tom Hiddleston

Beautiful yet Broken Doll

Crazy Cravings

Matt Smith

Indian Dinner

Robert Pattinson

Rami Malek

Sebastian Stan

Mistakes Are Common

Tom Felton

The Harry Potter Reunion

Ram Charan

Ben Barnes

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itsagentromanoff · 3 months

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We're All Team Tony

“Ya know, it’s really creepy that cape of yours cuddles with Tony,” Bucky huffed at Strange.

“Cloak,” the doctor corrected, smirking as he watched his cloak glare at Steve who tried to cozy up on the couch next to the genius, “You’re just jealous that Tony likes me better than you and Rogers.”

The ex-assassin scoffed at that, “Ain’t nothin’ to be jealous of.”

“Beep beep! Outta my way,” Quill interjected, bumping his way pass the other two, “Here ya go StarDust.”

“Aw, thank you Peter,” the genuis smiled, sipping the hot coffee in his hand, humming “Just the way I like it hot.”

Not to be out done by the half-alien, “Do you need me to get you anything, Tony?“

“Unless it’s to allow me back into my lab, no Cap,” Tony gave him a hopeful smile.

It nearly broke the super soldier’s heart when he shook his head at the engineer’s request.

“You know I can’t allow that Tony,” the blonde regretfully told him, “You heard what your doctor and Banner said and you sure as heck know what Miss Pott’s would say if she knew you were trying to sneak off to work.“

Tony pouted at that, frustrated that he’d sidelined by Loki and some Doom bots.

“Hey doll, wanna take a look at my arm?” Bucky called out, purposely bumping the Sorcerer Supreme but paused. Did the cloak just hiss at him?

Just as Bucky was about to take the free spot beside Tony, boxing him in between himself and his best pal, T'challa swooped in.

“Here are the plans that you asked for, Anthony,” the young King offered passing the StarkPad to the brunet, “Shuri asked that you contact her as soon you are able to.”

“Thank her for me.” Tony snorted looking through the tablet, “Is this you?”

Tony turned the screen to the King, Bucky peered over his shoulder watching the younger man’s face morph to humiliation.

The ex assassin caught his friend’s eyes having a silent conversation while the young King grumbled about double checking his sister’s surveillance again.

“Aw, Your Pantherness was this your first time with this tech?” Quill teased, winking at Tony who rolled his eyes at the other man.

The dark man glared at him, “No,” he gritted out, he have to have another word with his younger sister, “It was merely a training accident.”

“Oh sure,” Strange commented from his spot in the living room, “What with you being new to the superhero world it must happen all the time.”

The engineer raised an eyebrow at that. Was it him or was there hostility within the group? Trying to diffuse the situation, “So what’s everybody’s plans for dinner?“

Cue four men shoving each other out of the way to head towards the kitchen, while Strange whirls a golden portal turns and winks at Tony before entering it.

#tony stark #steve rogers #bucky barnes #t'challa #peter quill #stephen strange #everybody loves tony #the avengers #itsagentromanoff writes #stony #winteriron #t'tony #ironpanther #starkquill #ironstrange #just a drabble

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youngavengerscameos · 2 years

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America, Teddy, and Billy on the cover of a Free Comic Book Day one shot in the Marvel’s Voices line, released for Free Comic Book Day 2022. This issue includes a new Moon Girl story alongside reprints of stories from past issues in the Marvel’s Voices line

#young avengers #billy kaplan #teddy altman #america chavez #lunella lafayette #miles morales #t'challa #shang chi #idk who the guy on the bottom left is #comic: marvel's voices

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talkingparrotkee · 11 months

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After seeing disagreeable claims critiquing the end of Wakanda Forever float around for the nth time, I felt like organizing my qualms and putting them neatly into another blog. These are just my musings.

"Shuri should've killed Namor! Sparing him was wrong!" I apologize for my harsh phrasing, but this is a horrible and brainless take, especially when it's from begrudged shippers or anti-Wakanda Forever recasters 😭. Whenever I see it, I can't help but wonder if anyone who says this or agrees genuinely likes and (especially) understands Namor and/or Shuri's actual characters. And no, I do not mean the surface aesthetic of or attraction to them.

If you knew and understood what kind of character Shuri (at least in the MCU) is, you would know why she spared Namor's life after nearly taking it. If you understood the important messages carefully baked into the film, you'd understand the writing choice of Shuri sparing Namor and Namor not being the "incorrigible villain who deserves death."

Asking the silly question of why she didn't kill him in the form of critique, or worse, saying she should have or somehow should give him hell after the fact (fortunately, a regressive immaturity neither character has), is a clear show of media illiteracy. It neglects both characters and at least one pillar theme of Wakanda Forever. If Shuri killed Namor, Talokan and Wakanda would unnaturally be eating away at each other for eternity, allowing the surface colonist nations to swoop in as the destabilization process was done for them. The true villains and enemies that put them in that situation where they collided with one another would gain access to their vibranium and technology. Game over.

Shuri Was Never In Her "Villain Era"

The simple answer, Shuri is not Wanda Maximoff 😊. Goodnight. (Author's note because someone was troubled by this tongue and cheek remark: I don't hate Wanda at all. I meant what I wrote: Shuri is not Wanda, just Wakandan. People want her to be Wanda and have a Wanda arc when she is not and will not. 🫡)

Even at the lowest of her low, Shuri is no villain. Shuri was just a young woman trying to find what kind of leader she was in the midst of grief, inner turmoil, and human anger. I don't know why some fans say she had a "villain era" or want her to canonically have a "villain era," but ok. That is not Shuri, nor would it have filled the hole in Shuri's heart, as said by Nakia. It was not just because it endangered Wakanda and would spearhead them in an eternal war either. Although, that is reason enough for Shuri not to kill Namor.

Who Princess Shuri Truly Is

Princess Shuri is a natural healer, teacher, and creator. Shuri loves, designs, creates, innovates, builds, and protects. Shuri has people who would die for her and trusts her to make the right choice in the end, faithfully standing beside her even when they recognize that the trajectory she currently set them on wasn't a good one. Why do you think this is? Because they know and trust Shuri. They know her brain is as big as her heart.

Shuri is not inherently destructive. That was the uncharacteristic result of her gripe with death (thinking it meant gone) and destructive handling of her grief. Ryan Coogler even pointed out how Shuri's state was unhealthy and dangerous. Shuri and Namor were both grieving and asking themselves painful questions.

That is why Killmonger is who appears to her. Killmonger is a violent, radical character (made that way by neglect, grief, loss, militaristic molding, and the suffering African Americans face) who almost carelessly sent Wakanda spiraling into mayhem. He became the people he hated, in the wise words of T'Challa, and was an unworthy king, in the wise words of Shuri. If such a man is comparing himself to Shuri and is who her subconscious elicited on the Ancestral Plane (which Shuri seems to be taking to her grave now, refusing to tell Nakia), maybe she's not doing alright? Just a thought!

This is also why Ramonda took her out by the river. It's why M'Baku said what he said at Ramonda's funeral. It is so she can mourn properly. So she could heal properly. Something she wasn't doing since the day T'Challa died.

Killing Namor would've destroyed her, not just her people. It wouldn't have sated her despite in her rightful anger, feeling it would. It would've just sent her past a point of no return.

"Show him who you are." Ramonda told her this after she struggled on her own with killing Namor. Why do you think Shuri hesitated even without Ramonda's influence (which was just her presence and reminding Shuri who she already was) yet? It didn't feel "right" to Shuri as their moment together (watching the Talokan sunrise), how Namor paralleled her, and how their people were alike flew through her mind's eye. Shuri hesitated, not because she was "soft" or "nonsensical mushy writing." Shuri saw what they were and what this was. She thought beyond herself. As Editor Michael P. Shawver said, Namor's line of, "only the most broken people can become great leaders" is what they focused on. It is what Shuri finally realizes at the bitter end. They relate. The narrative, characters, and actors all recognize this; I don't see how some audience members do not.

She and Namor were perpetuating the destructive cycle of grief and vengeance while setting that example for their people, but she was strong enough to pull herself up and break that chain. Then she offered her his hand for the sake of not only themselves, but their people. She saw firsthand the beauty of Talokan. Like Namor admired Wakanda in the beginning, she admired Talokan. She remembered her visit to Talokan in the mix of her nation's beauty.

"Vengance has consumed us. We cannot let it consume our people."

Not "my" people. Not "your" people. Our people.

Shuri realized many simple yet, at the same time, humanly complicated truths of how they had connectivity and were broken, trying to be the best leaders they could be. Neither of them was the villain but are what they were due to the bitter hand life dealt them and the situations they faced.

The Real Theme of Black Panther's Wakanda Forever

This movie also had clear themes of:

A) how POC/indigenous infighting sucks and is counterproductive

B) connectivity of black and brown, from culture to shared wounds

C) the scars of colonialization

Shuri killing Namor would defeat the carefully woven narrative and betray all these well-built things. I know some of you guys don't like to hear this, but Namor is not of the archetype of Killmonger, nor is he the real "villain," so he was handled accordingly.

“We talked to so many experts and really made relationships with them, because there was a lot to go through,” says Beachler. “There are a lot of parallels between Africans and Latin Americans as far as the colonization of their communities and cities, the enslavement of their people, the lies that were told about their culture, the misinterpretation of their words, and the ways they were made out to look demonized in order to elevate a European country.”

Shuri Getting Her Lick Back

"Shuri should've beaten Namor until-" or "She let him off the hook unpunished!" If you paid attention to the movie, you'd see she literally beat him within an inch of his life? She definitely did get her lick back just as Namor got his. Wanting her to get "more" licks after the fact is regressive.

Shuri:

isolated and trapped Namor to weaken and drain his energy

ferally clawed both of his wings, taking out his ability to fly

made him bleed and bruised him up

roasted him in a firey explosion, effectively charring him and rendering him temporarily paralyzed

Shuri didn't play patty cake with him; she made an immortal bleed and fear death. She had him gasping for air on his back at the mercy of her spear tip. She made him yield and call off the troops. She made an ally out of him on her terms who exalted her strength and is currently bandaged up, flightless, and awaiting to aid her (rather than striking first, waging war as originally wanted). It's more than enough and was the best course of action. What do you mean? What are you talking about?

#black panther #wakanda forever #namor shuri #princess shuri #namor #marvel #bpwf #shuri #letitia wright #tenoch huerta

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