#mcu x filipino!reader
Text
a piece of your history.
Pairing: Namor x Filipino!Reader
Rating: Mature, Comedy (No smut but there is tension)
Summary: It hurts to not be able to properly recreate your traditional pre-colonial Filipino clothing, and Namor takes notice of this feeling of yours.
Word Count: 2,578
Content Warning: Mentions of colonialization
Disclaimer: Namor is kind of cold and dark towards reader!! Idk if its ooc but i would imagine that he would generally be apprehensive towards a surface dweller. you have been warned
___________
Reminder: This fic is part of a Namor x Filipino!Reader miniseries, but can be read on its own! Miniseries fic(s):
a piece of your history. / "beloved."
__________
“Do you like it?”
You asked, grinning, slightly turning yourself around in order to fully show off your work proudly.
Namor hummed, sitting in the water by the shore of the beach. He was always like this, meeting up with you now and again.
“Is this the wear of your people?” He asked. You grinned and nodded, letting out small chuckles while fiddling with the fabric between your fingers. You had always wanted to make the Pre-Colonial traditional clothing of your Filipino ancestors, it was the closest thing you had of home as of now.
The process was tedious, you admit that. So little resources or references online on how your specific region’s clothing looked– much less how it was made, due to how much the Spaniards burned and banned, but you had still managed to gather enough to make one as accurately as possible.
“It’s… beautiful.” He simply says, eyeing up the clothes and how it wrapped around your body, causing you to tear your eyes away from him in fear of showing how his compliment affected you in such a way.
“Why have your people stopped wearing this? Are they not your traditional wear?” Namor asked, remembering the photos of your family that you had shown him. They were wearing what you had called a “baro’t saya” and “barong” for the celebration of “Buwan ng Wika” as he recalled it.
“It’s gorgeous, and made by the hands of your people instead of the colonizers.” He continued, “It escapes me on why your people have abandoned wearing your traditional garbs, instead choosing to wear what they gave you.” This statement slightly irked you, causing you to deadpan at him.
“Dude, we were enslaved and tortured by them for more than 300 years.” You crossed your arms. “Do you think we abandoned it willingly?” You were met with silence, and for once, Namor was the one who was left speechless by bluntness.
“... Right. My apologies.” Was all Namor could reply, causing you to let out a small laugh, shaking your head. It’s not often you’re the one leaving him silent, with him often bashing “surface dwellers”, causing you to regularly remind him that you yourself are a surface dweller.
Namor never had a proper reply for that.
However, even if you were happy with your work, you still frowned and sighed. You dragged your fingers along the cloth, wistfully looking at its patterns. Namor’s eyes followed the way your face curled up to a grimace, causing him to frown even more (if that was even possible) in confusion.
“It’s not much, though. The fabric’s sorta cheap ‘cause it was the only one I could find that had this specific pattern. I had to pick between comfortability or accuracy.” You sulked, sitting down on the dry sand close to him. You hugged your knees close to your chest, already itchy from the scratchy inside of the fabric.
“I chose accuracy, of course… for them.” You vaguely finished, slightly bitter on how hard it was to make your country’s real traditional clothing in an authentic way. You palmed the sand, looking for your bag before taking out your trusty cellphone.
Ah, surface dwellers and their hand-held yet fragile technologies… Namor thought as you typed and scrolled away at your phone.
“I mean, look at this!” You held your phone out, showing what appeared to be a real life replica of your garbs, just made in a better way. Namor narrowed his eyes in confusion.
“So your people still make this?”
“Well technically yes, but no? God, I wish, though. This is just a historical costume for entertainment…” You replied, huffing.
“Tangina talaga ng Espanya…” You grumbled under your breath. Namor chuckled at you, as he had heard you swear in your mother tongue (he was sure it was a swear– it was literally the first word you had taught him) at one of your country’s past colonizers.
“Jay, ba'ax jaaj le je'elo'...” He replied, agreeing, though this did cause your face to slightly feel warmer. You would never admit it to his face, but him speaking his native language was kinda hot.
You let out a small chuckle, before wistfully sighing and looking at the sky.
“You know… I’m kinda jealous of you and your people of Talokan.” Namor rose an eyebrow at you, his head turning to look at you. You put your hands up in mock defense, clearly meaning well.
“I don’t mean it in a bad way! And yeah, you guys have faced struggles with water pollution, junk and also colonizer stuff… It’s just… y’know…” You trailed off, suddenly feeling bashful. Namor’s gaze softened, as he nodded to indicate that you continue. You breathed in deeply.
“Well, I mean, you guys got to keep your culture intact, no outside forces ripping it away from you.” You mumbled, picking at the sand that got between your nails.
“No forgotten gods… no forgotten stories… no forgotten practices.” You longingly looked at the sea.
You snorted, though. “Even if they tried, you could still put up a fight and protect it.” You smiled at him, causing him to avert his gaze and look back at the ocean.
“I just… I just wish I could salvage at least a small part of it.” You finished, already feeling your throat close up and tears form in your eyes. God, why did you have to be so emotional? Putangina naman…
For a beat or two, Namor stayed quiet. You already felt dread setting in your stomach, oh god. What if he had another diva moment and dove back in the water? Before you could panic even more, you heard the water move, as water droplets seem to fall from sky and onto you. You looked up in confusion, squinting your eyes at Namor, who had stood up from his place to sit closer to you.
“... May I see more of these garbs?”
Your frown was replaced with a smile, as you swallowed back the lump and blinked away the oncoming tears. “Sure! I have so many saved and printed– it’s important to have references before crafting, after all!”
Your signature grin was back as you happily took out what looked to be a plastic bag containing pictures that looked similar to your clothes. You happily explained away, showing him more and more photos– though he did notice that you had backed up a bit when he came a bit too close to your personal space.
He followed along as you showed more and more photos– along with more pictures of Pre-Colonial jewelry that you wanted to replicate yourself. He noticed the way you would stop and longingly gaze at them, before continuing on with explaining.
Namor watched the way your eyes would brighten as you talked more and more about your history, before they would dim as you brought up on why it was not used by your people in the modern day anymore.
“... And yeah, that’s pretty much what my own region wears! Though, it does get a bit tricky to see if it really is my region per say,” Namor looked at you, a bit confused but waiting for you to continue. Your smile grew wider.
“All regions basically have a lot of similarities and differences! So sometimes it gets a bit confusing.” You rambled, before noticing yourself and getting a bit embarrassed. Namor softly smiled at you.
“This just shows how rich the cultures of your people are, in etail.”
You blinked before letting out a joyous laugh, surprised that Namor of all people complimented you! (Well, to be more precise, your heritage). You were about to reply before your eyes caught sight of the time on your phone. “Ay gago! Ang late na pala! I still have to call my parents!” You put on your coat over your work, before shoving your phone back in your bag.
Before you could properly stand up, a hand on your wrist stopped you. Your brain loaded for a few seconds, your eyes following the hand and how it trailed back to Namor. “Come back here in two days time.” He asked (more of demanded).
You gawked at him, this was the first time he ever confirmed that you were going to see him! Most of the time, he simply came and went as he pleased. The look in his eyes already made it impossible to say no, so of course refusing him was not an option.
“I-I…” You stammered, meeting his eyes that had so much emotion in them. You gulped. “Okay! See you in… two days, dude!” You quickly went on your way home.
Namor nodded at you, before he caught sight of the familiar plastic ziplock you had left behind. Before he could call out to you, you were already too far away, and if he were to approach you someone would surely see him.
Namor watched your back fade from the distance, already confirming the idea forming in his head. He nodded to himself, before grabbing the ziplock bag and diving back into the sea, making sure to not let anything get wet.
__________
You practically ran towards the beach as you grinned, excited that your.. Friend(?) or Frenemy(?) personally requested your presence. You cleared your throat and attempted to act cool, though severely failing, before sitting down by the drier parts of the sand, admiring how beautiful the waves looked.
A few moments later, a familiar head peeped out from the water, causing you to laugh and wave at him. Namor uncharacteristically bore a grin at you, continuing to get out of water, the droplets from his hair magically disappearing with each step.
“I have a surprise for you.” was the first thing he said as he offered you a hand in getting up. You nodded, though a bit confused now.
In his hands, you had finally taken notice of a makeshift waterproof bag tied by a drawstring along with a familiar plastic ziplock of papers. “Ay, onga pala! I accidentally left my papers…” You exclaimed, surprised that he kept them in such good condition.
Namor gingerly handed you the drawstring bag first, urging you to open it. “Please, have a look inside.” You hesitantly took it in your hands, noting the way the fabric practically had gold woven into it.
What you saw took your breath away,
it was Pre-Colonial indigenous Filipino clothes.
You ran a hand through them, the fabric being silky yet cool to the touch. Just as how Filipino clothes were theorized to be. Somehow, Namor had found a way to wove it with gold, just as what your research had said. You felt tears well up in the corner of your eyes, it felt like a piece of history was being given back to you.
“Well? What are you waiting for?” Namor’s voice snapped you out of your stupor. You looked back at him, open-mouthed and too shocked to reply. He chuckled at you. “Try it on, in etail.”
Namor politely turned around, silently trying to hide and bury the way he felt when he heard fabric shifting and the likely assumption of you undressing.
Your breath hitched as the feeling of the fabric against your skin was a comfortable one. It was perfectly tailored and made for you, as if someone had memorized every inch of your body down to the smallest details, the robes fitting like a glove on your body.
“You can look now…” You managed to practically croak out, forever feeling thankful at such a kind gesture from no one other than Namor himself.
The moment Namor turned around, he swore that he felt slightly lightheaded from how you managed to take his breath away with just your look. You looked like you were in your natural element, your most natural state.
It almost felt as if this was how you were supposed to be.
The way the gold-woven fabric hung off your own copper skin had him thinking of thoughts he swore he would never have of surface-dwellers, and perhaps the most euphoric feeling was seeing the look on your face; the genuine joy and happiness.
But wait, something was missing.
He narrowed his eyes at you before rummaging through the bag he carried with him. Namor gently brought out familiar looking jewelry, though with its own twist.
“These… are also for you.”
Namor took your hand and placed it in his, slipping on a rather detailed and delicately made golden ring. He took both of your wrists and placed on them gold bracelets adorned with what appeared to be a jade material.
All the while, he made direct eye contact with you. You practically shook under his gaze, deeming it to be too intimate.
Before you could process anything more, you felt the heat of Namor’s body behind your back, as you heard gold clinking together. His hot breath fanned on the back of your neck, as the heat in your ears never seemed to go away.
You felt a heavy weighted necklace be placed onto your collarbone, before a click behind you was resounded. Namor’s hands lingered for a split second on the nape of your neck, before he practically ripped himself away and stood back, afraid of his own actions.
Your breath left your body for what felt like the nth time in the past 30 minutes, as you took the necklace between your fingers and observed the intricate designs of gold and jade beautifully fused together.
All of this jewelry should have felt heavy, but to you they felt as if they were perfectly crafted and made for you and your people. It was as if these were all made with heavy and careful detail, making sure that they perfectly aligned with your own practices but still with its own twist and charm from the gifter.
You could never take back what the Spaniards have taken from your country, but it felt like a lost piece of your own heritage was being directly gifted to you, you could practically feel the pride of your ancestors. This was all so overwhelming.
“K'uk'ulkan…”
Namor suppressed the heat he felt as his natural name rolled off your tongue in such a breathless manner.
Now, it was your turn to surprise as he did not anticipate that you would tackle him in a hug. You buried your face in his neck, not scared anymore of what he’d do. Namor’s own hands hesitantly placed themselves on your backside, before they tightened around you.
“Salamat… Salamat talaga, K'uk'ulkan…” Namor felt hot wet tears drip onto his shoulder.
He hugged back even tighter.
“Mixba’al, in etail.”
__________
BONUS:
“Okay, now ‘putangina mo’ means I like you.” You said to Namor, though the way you tried to (and failed) to hold back your laughter made him doubt that that was the meaning of the phrase.
“Is it really now?” You laughed, nodding profusely. “Hell yeah it is! We Pinoys use it all the time to compliment each other! Like, ‘putangina mo tol, ang guwapo mo nakakabakla ka na!’ ”
“ ‘Nakakabakla’?” Namor narrowed his eyes at you. Were you just messing with him? You laughed even more, clutching your sides by how much it hurt.
“Gaga, uto-uto ka talaga.”
Namor had a deep feeling in his stomach that you were insulting him (he was right) so he stood up and sighed, walking back towards the sea.
“What the-! Hey! Where are you going?!”
“K'a' ak'ate.”
“Aw c’mon K'uk'ulkan! Can’t you take a joke?!”
He was already gone by the time you had said that.
#namor x reader#namor x you#namor x y/n#namor x filipino!reader#filipino!reader#namor imagine#namor one shot#namor x pinoy!reader#pinoy!reader#mcu x reader#namor of talokan#mcu x filipino!reader#mcu fic#namor fluff#namor x filipino reader#k'uk'ulkan x reader#k'uk'ulkan
661 notes
·
View notes
Text
His Queen
K’uk’ulkan x Filipino!Reader Blurb
Summary: K'uk'ulkan pays you a visit to ask you to become his queen.
Rating: PG 13+
Warnings: None.
Word Count: 1.5K
Note: Filipino!Reader is inspired by Marvel's equivalent to the Filipino Superhero Pearl Pangan, also known by her hero name Wave. You can control water and have the same capabilities as a Talokanil, but you are still a land-dweller born and raised in the islands of Mactan, Cebu Philippines.
It is also worthy to note that I have not included any Yucatec Maya phrases despite Namor speaking in his mother tongue as respect to his language. Therefore his mother tongue shall be labeled with italics.
This work is a connecting piece to His Timeless Love. Both can be read separately and in any order.
Hidden by the waves of saltwater was a man. But not just any man; K'uk'ulkan. The feathered serpent god from myths old and from legends foretold. Yet his divine countenance could not compare to your own. The water bent by your will, aides you at your beck and call. It surrounded you like a halo of shimmering fractals that danced around you with the flitters of a sea faerie from folktales. It was as if the sea was your bidding, yet it obeyed you like a knight to its queen. Such prowess came from disquieting origins, yet you wielded it proudly. Regally.
He was enchanted by you.
There were no words to describe the blossoming heat from his chest, traveling from the pulsing veins of his fingertips down to the tingling crunch of fine white sand beneath his bare feet. You moved with the grace of dancing anemone, glowed as brightly as the stars of the evening sea that guided him through the throes of the darkened currents. No matter how many times he would see you, his breath always hitched. Time always stopped.
Time was no concept for an immortal such as he, yet he found himself counting every precious second when he basked in your company.
"I know you're there." The sea rippled around him. He shook his head and chuckled.
"How did you know?" He rose from the depths of the water and stayed by the shore's edge. The waves lapped at his winged feet pleasantly like a greeting from an old friend. His eyes trailed across your back as you glided your arms in a dance of tradition with the water accompanying your movements.
"You're not subtle, K'uk'ulkan," you did not turn to face him, but you regarded him with a sliver of ocean water snaking across his arms. K'uk'ulkan held the urge to let a pleasant shiver run down his spine. You chuckled, "I saw you peeking your head from the shore."
"Is it unpleasant for you? For me to disturb you from your rituals." He asked. Your hands stopped.
"Never." You did not bother to correct him that your idle movements weren't rituals. It was mere movements controlled by the crashing waves upon the loose sand, imitating the flow of the currents that shook with each stroke. An impulse, maybe. An urge to dance with the hymns of your orient motherland.
You finally turned to face him, eyes locking with a magnificent earthen oak. He chose this moment to shorten the distance between you, his fingers finding solace at the supple of your cheeks. He caressed the lids of your eyes free of seawater and lingered a kiss to your brows with a satisfied smile.
"Then why call me out?" There was a mischief behind his words hidden beneath the whispers of ardor. You smiled.
"I would rather have your company than to let you linger by the sea. I know you wish for the same."
You noticed his breath become albeit ragged—although it was but a sliver of a puff of air—so you willed the water to sustain his skin from the blistering heat knowing full well that he would stay with you until nightfall. The sun of Mactan, Cebu on the high end of summer's afternoon was one of the hottest recorded in any index; it would harm K'uk'ulkan if you were to let him stay under it any longer. A thin dome of water covered the both of you and the light bounced off from the water to your skins. Picturesque as it might seem to the eyes of an onlooker, there was something much more beautiful in the eyes of K'uk'ulkan.
And that was you.
"Thank you, my love." He spoke in his mother tongue. It was as pleasant and melodious as the wind chimes from your rattan house. It always filled you with immeasurable joy for him to use his language to speak so softly with you.
"Always," you guided him to sit on the sand under a nearby coconut tree, water covering you at every step and wetting the exposed skin of K'uk'ulkan. A question prodded in the forefront of your mind as soon as you were settled and huddled between the serpent god's legs, his arms wrapping around your waist and head buried on your shoulder, "why have you come to visit, my king?"
"Do I need a reason to see my queen?"
You sighed and shook your head, leaning back against his frame and turning your head to kiss the shell of his pointed ears. "A land dweller cannot be queen, K'uk'ulkan. You know that."
"Yet one lay in my arms at this very moment." He tightened his grip on your waist and peppered kisses against your neck. You tried your best not to humor his need for attention despite the growing heat that formed on your nape and cheeks.
"The people need a queen that is of Talokan blood. I can't simply take that role."
"Your achievements speak for itself," he raised his head from your shoulder and kissed your cheek, "you have saved Talokan from the hands of scientists who tried to scour through the depths of our oceans, kept our secret well-hidden from the land dwellers, and you have kept your promise of aid to my kingdom in times of need. We have seen you divert ships away from our home with your riptides and currents."
"That is hardly a reason. I've only repaid a debt."
"And what debt would that be?"
"Sparing me," your hands snaked towards the hands that locked itself on your waist. You drew circles against his skin as he sighed in content at the moment, "you had every reason to kill me when I stepped through the entrance of Talokan. You were a king who protected his people—I was sure I was going to die by your hand that day."
"You intrigued me," he supplied, his hands now taking yours and intertwining your fingers together, "you did not yield under my threats nor did you use the name my enemies have called me when I have antagonized you."
"Namor," you tried, the name foreign to your tongue, "I much prefer your real name, K'uk'ulkan. And why would I make an enemy of the king of a civilization that I have intruded?"
"You might be one of the rarer sane land dwellers."
"I try." You gave him an amused shrug.
"You are also special, my love," he added, his mother tongue chiming through the warm pacific winds, "my people already revere you as a god of their own."
"Me?"
"Do I really have to spell every word?" He placed two fingers on your chin and made you look up at the flowing dome of saltwater that you are effortlessly maintaining with your powers, "you control the sea. Our life source is at your beck and call. You can breathe like us, swim like us, and you could withstand the pressure of Talokan. You have garnered the love of our people."
"Your people." You corrected him. He shook his head and adjusted himself so he could lay his forehead against yours.
"Our people," he stared into your eyes, the rich earthen gaze reflecting that of his love for the sea. With it also came the tremendous love he had for you; his queen. No one was fit to rule by his side but you. Although there might be reservations from others of his kingdom, they cannot refute the fact that you—an entity that controlled the tides of their home—were to be revered. Respected.
Your benevolent rule will be the legacy of his choice. And it will be living proof for the people that you were the only rightful queen to sit by the right hand of his throne.
"You hold the strength of the sea at your whim, yet you choose kindness above all else. But you do not hesitate to use force when it is necessary. That is the true makings of a ruler. Your judgment astounds me, your beauty is simply divine. You are perfect, my love."
"K'uk'ulkan…" his name was like a prayer to your mouth. It was ironic, you might say, for the prayers of the god of the sea fell into his attentive ears and returned the favor with worship—as if you were the divine entity and he the disciple. You felt his hands creep into the back of your head and pull you impossibly closer, his fingers tangling with your dampened hair from the obedient water from the ocean's tide, his lips fluttering with the tongue of praise to you; his god. He regarded your meager stature like the statue of a Santo Niño. Holy. Sacred.
He uttered your name in a breathless whisper that wavered the dome of water from your command. He might have found that amusing enough to release a minute chuckle. He was the only one who could sway your otherwise earnest control.
"This I ask again, will you become my queen and rule Talokan by my side?"
#namor x reader#namor#mcu namor#namor x filipino!reader#namor x fem!reader#k'uk'ulkan#k'uk'ulkan x reader#marvel#wakanda forever#talokan
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
bugna: TAKIPSILIM | destiny's twilight
defy your destiny | rewrite your fate.
Pairing: MCU Moon Knight System (Marc Spector/Steven Grant/Jake Lockley) x Avatar Fem!Reader/OC
Update Schedule: Semi-daily (schedule depends on my work, most of the chapters are already written and I'm writing buffers coz I can't stop, help--)
Summary: Under the luminous full moon of the pre colonial Philippine archipelago in the year 900, Mira Batala's fate to serve their patron moon goddess, Mayari, as an avatar was sealed from the moment a divine kiss was bestowed on her forehead from her infancy. Gifted with a second chance at life, her extraordinary birth marks the onset of a divine oath to be honored and fulfilled as immortality soon became a curse rather than a gift. As she outlived her family and becomes the last of her olden lineage, Mira embarks on a millennia-long journey of protecting her people and guiding the travelers of the night through its darkest.
bugna: takipsilim (destiny's twilight) is a thrilling saga of ancient gods, boundless love, and a woman's timeless odyssey. As Mira confronts her past and embraces her role as Mayari's Avatar, she discovers the essence of her bugna (true destiny) and the interconnectedness of all strings of fate tied to her own: namely her intertwined destinies with Marc Spector, Steven Grant and Jake Lockley as the reincarnated fragments of her greatest love's past life.
TW/CW: Abuse, Age Difference, Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Angst, Comfort, Drama, Dreams and Nightmares, Falling In Love, Fluff, Historical, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping I'm Sorry, Idiots in Love, Not Beta Read, Mutual Pining, Polyamory, Reader-Insert Relationship(s), Romance, Slow Build, Smut, Soulmates, Trauma.
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT: I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CONSUME.
MASTERLIST BELOW
Prologue | A Kiss Of Intertwined Destinies
Chapter One | Shadows Of The Past
Chapter Two | Dreams Of Fate, Farewell & New Beginnings
Chapter Three | A Chance Encounter Above The Clouds
Chapter Four | The Homecoming
Chapter Five | Ties & Strings That Bind
Chapter Six | Coffees, Paninis & Museum Dreams
Chapter Seven | A Night of Discovery, History and Connection
Chapter Eight | Avatar Of Mayari, Protector Of The Night
Chapter Nine | Forgotten Memories & Inevitable Truth
Chapter Ten | A Taste of Camaraderie & New Adventures
Chapter Eleven | When The Sparks Fly
Chapter Twelve | Between Awakening Desires & Celebratory Nights
Chapter Thirteen | Companionship & Late Night Confessions
Chapter Fourteen | The Hidden Protector
Chapter Fifteen | Bound By The Crescent Moon
Chapter Sixteen | All Has Been Revealed
Chapter Seventeen | Moon Magic & Mysteries Of The Night We Met
Chapter Eighteen | Shared Burdens & Unexpected Alliances
Chapter Nineteen | Choices and Commitments
Chapter Twenty | coming soon (11/13/2023)
Chapter Twenty One | coming soon (11/14/2023)
Chapter Twenty Two | coming soon (11/15/2023)
Chapter Twenty Three | coming soon (11/16/2023)
Chapter Twenty Four | coming soon (11/17/2023)
Chapter Twenty Five | coming soon (11/18/2023)
MORE CHAPTERS COMING SOON.
Also, I will be cross posting this on Wattpad and AO3 soon, so I have commissioned an artist to create a book cover. Here's a sneak peak.
I'm super excited to show you the rest once she's done. In the meantime, please follow her on Instagram @lindsaynid_arts if you wanna see more of her artwork.
#marc spector x reader#steven grant x reader#jake lockley x reader#moon knight x reader#moon knight fanfiction#moon knight fanfic#mcu moon knight#moon knight#marc spector#steven grant#jake lockley#marc x avatar f!reader#steven x avatar f!reader#jake x avatar f!reader#moon knight x avatar f!reader#philippine mythology#philippines#ancient egypt#egyptian mythology#filipino reader#filipino#filipina#pre colonial philippines#mayari#khonshu#anubis#layla el faouly#moon knight system
189 notes
·
View notes
Text
Finders Keepers | Namor x Filipino!Reader
Summary: Namor x Filipino!Reader. That's it. That's the plot... kind of.
Word count: 5k
Warnings: Listen, this is for pure entertainment only. Don't take it too seriously- I sure didn't. I had fun writing this tbh. First ever Marvel fic I post on this website and it's this type of crap. Enjoy- or not.
Italicized words are: 1.The Reader's/OC's thoughts and/or 2.Words that are supposed to be in a different language. P.S. I tried to use a Yucatec Mayan - English translator but decided against it last minute since I feared I would not do it any justice so I just opted to italicize when they're (Namor and the Talokanil) are using it to talk. Words in parenthesis are the translated Tagalog words. Sometimes they're loose translations because you can't just translate some terms from our language to English- let's just leave it at that. It's the thought that counts- I guess.
Also posted on AO3
It's not a good thing when you wake up in a strange place, surrounded by strange people. For our protagonist though, that's exactly what happened.
Where the fuck-
Always a good start. As soon as she opened her eyes and blinked, trying to get rid of the haze in her mind, she looks around.
Someone speaks in a language foreign to her and she turns to the side before her eyes widen-
She stares. She sees the mouth of the person- person? Is it a person? Why were they colored blue? Who are they even? Where was she? Is she dreaming? Is she dead?
The person in front of her keeps talking but she can't understand a single thing. Besides, her brain cells weren't working at the moment. Everything seemed different, she can't seem to focus.
Finally, whoever it was that was failing miserably to get through to her stopped talking and left the room. That's when she noticed that she was sitting on a small cot, inside a tent? Maybe. She doesn't know. She's not sure.
She tries to remember the last thing her brain could before she woke up in this strange place.
She was on a vacation trip for the summer. She went to visit her late grandmother's hometown in the province of Siquijor.
On the second day, she decided to take a boat and go over to Apo Island. It was a strangely cloudy day; a perfect time to go for a swim. She had snorkeling gear with her but no life vest. She didn't bother since she promised herself she wouldn't go that far. Besides, she's never drowned before. She can float if anything were to happen.
She was joyfully admiring the corals, the starfish, and the sea urchins. Fish of different kinds started to swim around and she followed them. Saying hi and hello, waving to the fishes as if they could understand her dumbass.
She kept following the school of fishes, unaware that she was getting farther and farther from the shore- that is until she sees a deep fucking abyss.
"Ay puta!" Fuck! A garbled curse escapes from her lips as she raises her head from the water due to panic. The chasm was deep as all hell. It was dark and wide as if it would swallow her whole if she didn't swim away.
She tried to swim away. Emphasis on tried.
She lifted her body in an attempt to float and she would've. She would've been safe if not for the sudden cramp on her leg- the muscle twisted and it sent her body to a standstill.
Then darkness.
A voice spoke and cut her off her thoughts. She looked up in alarm and her eyes widened once again at the tall, handsome, yet weirdly looking guy in front of her.
He spoke again in a language she doesn't know. His brown eyes locked onto hers and it didn't seem like he was threatening her by the tone of his voice but his brows were furrowed and his lips were in a deep scowl.
When she didn't answer, he called for someone outside of the tent. A woman and another man; taller and broader, entered. But again, for some unknown reason; they were both blue-skinned.
However, that aside, this is when the genius(?) protagonist noticed that one doesn't look like the others. His skin was tanned as opposed to the other two. He had pointy ears and a huge piercing on his nose. He was adorned in jewels and the other two were fully clothed while he was only in-
Ay jusko lord. (Oh my god)
She averted her eyes and looked down at his feet only to notice the wings. She blinked once, twice, thrice-
What the-
She stared, again, her brain trying to process things but can't. Someone send help.
Teka. Nasan ba ko? The fuck. Sino tong mga to? Bat may pakpak ung paa niya, ano to cosplay? (Wait. Where am I? The fuck. Who are these people? Why does he have wings on his feet, is this cosplay?)
"Ah- Ano-" Uhm- she starts to speak and the others turn to her. The woman then talks to her in a slightly commanding tone but it's still in a different language so she can't understand jack shit.
When she still didn't answer, it was obvious that her host, or whoever they were, was starting to get a little frustrated with her uncooperative state.
She could hear them talking to each other in the foreign language again and when she finally had her wits about her, she raised her hand.
"Uhm- Excuse me-"
The three strangers stopped and turned. The man with pointy ears walked over to her in wide strides that she unconsciously leaned on the wall as a defense mechanism.
"You speak English?" He then asks in a low, deep grumble.
She raised her brow at him, "Yes? Of course, I speak English, I've been colonized." Weird that she answered that way but it was already done, so whatever.
Her snap seemed to surprise those in the room but at this point, she was too confused to care.
She looked around once more, "Wait, so where the hell am I? And who are you?" She asked him.
It took a few moments before she was answered by the pointy-eared man, "I have many names-" he started, "My people call me K'uk'ulkan."
Clearly, the name didn't register in her brain because she tilted her head in confusion. He moves closer, right in front of her face in an attempt to intimidate her but she could only register the handsomeness of his features which confused her a little. Here she was, in an unknown place, with unknown people and that's what she notices.
"But my enemies call me Namor." He finishes and waits for her to react.
She scrunched up her nose, "Can I just call you Namor because that first name is so hard for me to say."
This amused him, she thinks, since his lips curved upward a little.
"Where am I?" She finally asks and Namor leans back slightly,
"You are in my kingdom." He answers and it again prompts her to raise a brow,
"Apo Island has a kingdom?" She asked and this time it was him who looks at her incredulously. He wonders for a bit before leaning down again near her face and she backs away.
"Child, where do you think you are right now?"
Di ba kasasabi niya lang na nasa lugar niya daw kami, labo naman neto. (Didn't he just say we were in his kingdom? He's confusing.)
"You said we were in your kingdom. I'm pretty sure-"
"The location, child." He insists and she thinks for a bit, wondering what he could gain from knowing the answer.
"Apo Island, Philippines."
There was silence. The man and woman behind Namor looked at each other and this didn't go amiss by her. They looked more puzzled than she was.
"What?" She asked, a sudden panic started to rise in her chest for some reason.
"You're in my kingdom. In the Atlantic Ocean."
"Ha?" She gave him a look that says 'are you fucking kidding me?' but then her expression changed.
From giving them an incredulous look to showing them a tired one, she sighs.
"What?" Namor questions and takes a step back when she suddenly stands up.
"Ha? Hatdog."
The three strangers looked at each other and she rolled her eyes, "I get it. This is a prank, right? Who are you really? Ano to, skit?" (Is this a skit?)
"Kala niyo ba maiisahan niyo ko? Asa ka boy. Kaya pala naka-cosplay ka ee." She adds and raises a brow.
(You think you can trick me? You wish, boy. No wonder you're in some kind of cosplay.)
"What are you talking about?" The other woman asked with a disapproving look, "And how dare you call him a boy-"
"English, child." Namor cuts the other off and commands the stranger but she scoffs, rolling her eyes in the process.
"English mo mukha mo. And anong child? Gago twenty-something na ko." (English your face. And what child? Asshole, I'm twenty-something already.)
Her voice was defiant as she suddenly glared at Namor. This surprised him a little so he wasn't able to answer her. Obviously, no one has ever addressed him in such a manner before.
She thought she had him, "So ano ka? Crossover ni King Triton at Legolas? Sali sana ako kung parang tourism eme to kaso lokal lang ako mamsir." (So what are you? A crossover of King Triton and Legolas? I would've joined if this was something for tourism but I'm local.)
She started walking towards the closed drapes of the tent and she saw out of the corner of her eye that the taller man and the woman were about to stop her but Namor raised his hand to stop them instead.
"Let her go. Let her see."
As soon as she stepped foot out of the tent, her eyes went wide, "What. The. F-"
The place was unlike anything she's ever seen. It was beautiful but that was the least of her problems right now. Suddenly, an uncomfortable feeling set itself in her stomach.
Shit nasan ba talaga ako? What if di to prank? Tangina, ano ko na-kidnap? Gago aanuhin nila ko, wala naman ako pera. Shit uso pa ba ung human trafficking- (Shit where am I, really? What if it's not a prank? Motherfucker, was I kidnapped? Fuck what are they gonna do, I don't have any money. Shit, is human trafficking still a thing?)
"You are not where you thought you are." Namor cut off her rambling in her head and she whirled around in alarm, looking at him with fear in her eyes.
Now it has registered in her brain that she's in so much deeper shit than she thought. She backed away from him instinctively- before she ran.
"Hey!" The taller man had yelled after her but before he could chase her down, the woman said with a smirk, "Let her. She has nowhere to go."
Meanwhile, the lost and confused protagonist of this story, well- maybe, no one knows yet if she is a protagonist. But for now, let's say she is-
Anyway, she ran. To where? She has no clue. She just had to get away from the strangers. She looked around and realized she was in a cave.
"San na ung exit?!" (Where's the exit?!) She yelled and it echoed against the walls. She covers her mouth and crouches on instinct before peeking to the side, checking if she was being followed. When there were no signs of an attack, she breathed out in relief. She thinks she's safe- she's not.
"Okay. Okay." She breathed in, trying to calm herself down, "Kung nasa kweba ako, malamang sa bandang dulo dito ung exit." (If I was in a cave, then the exit should be at the far end.) She said to herself as if she actually knew what she was doing. She doesn't.
She started to crabwalk to wherever the hell she thinks the exit should be. She thinks she's being quiet and clever. Again, she's not.
"Where the fuck is the exit?!" She whispers, annoyed. She got to the end of the cave but all she saw was a body of water, like a small pond. There was no exit.
What if?
Nasa loob ba ko ng secret beach? De, di secret beach, parang secret beach, ung kelangan mo lumusot para makadating sa kabilang side. (Am I inside a secret beach? No, not a secret beach, but like a secret beach, where you gotta swim under to get to the other side.)
Her conclusion seemed to make sense to her but there was one problem: she's not a good swimmer. She's never drowned before, granted, but still, she's not a good swimmer.
"Okay." She said to herself, "Options-"
Counting down with her fingers, she started to think, "Option One: Lalangoy ako pailalim to escape." (Option One: I swim under to escape.) She looks at the 'pond', it looks deep as shit.
"Option Two: Pakamatay na lang tayo dito agad bes, kesa kung ano pa gawin nila sayo. Jusko lord I'd rather die talaga." (Option Two: Let me just kill myself here, rather than finding out what they'd do to me. Jesus Christ I'd literally rather die.)
She continues to talk with herself, "Baka naman di ganon kalalim? Mukha lang? Siguro? Pucha naman talaga, oo." (Maybe it's not that deep. Only looks like it? Maybe? Fucking really.) She's panicking. And when she panics, bad things happen.
"Okay, try natin, baka naman-" (Okay, let's try, maybe-) She walked towards the pond, dipping her feet into the water to test the temperature. There was a voice in her head saying "Hoe don't do it." but she ignored it. She was panicking, her brain cells were gone.
She sinks into the pond quickly and opens her eyes. It was harder to see without the goggles but the water was surprisingly clear as soon as she dove in. She looks around and sees a light and this brings a bit of hope to her heart.
But, as mentioned, she's not a good swimmer. She's not good at holding her breath either. She was halfway through the cave, the light still a few ways away from her when she felt herself start to lose air.
Panic. Panic. Panic.
She tried to swim up but she hadn't realized that the deeper she went into the body of water, the cave closed in on her.
Panic. More panic. She's going to die.
Option Two then. She thinks to herself before she takes a huge gulp of water. She has accepted her fate. Death to the stranger. The end. Her eyes closed and she fell deeper into the water-
Until she wasn't.
She coughed out the water on solid ground. She was on all fours, trying to catch her breath when she felt a firm grip on her arm. She turned to see Namor, looking at her disapprovingly.
"You are foolish." He starts with a frown, "There is no escape from here for a surface-dweller like you without our help."
"What-" She coughs roughly, she still can't breathe properly. Her eyes widened when she realized what was happening- she was having an asthma attack.
She wheezed and clutched her chest before falling to her side. She could hear Namor talking- or yelling- she's not sure. Her eyes started to water. She's trying to catch her breath so desperately when she feels something cover her mouth.
Suddenly she can breathe a little easier.
"Breathe," She could finally register what Namor was saying. Her vision started to focus and when she calmed, she looked down at the device on her face.
She started to inspect it, turning it here and there suspiciously.
"An inhaler?" She asked, "Looks like one of those things you use with a nebulizer."
Her asthmatic ass aside, her situation still hasn't improved. This reality settled again in her thoughts and she looked abruptly at Namor who was just watching- observing.
"Okay. Uh-" She started, standing up rather slowly. She was looking at him like he was some wild animal she had to be careful around.
Well, she's not wrong.
"Uhm okay, Namor," She swallows her fear,
"SIR-" She continued with her hands raised in front of her chest, palm outward as if to calm him, to surrender to him.
"I don't know what you want from me. I'm nobody. If this is a kidnapping then I can assure you-"
Namor raises a brow but before he could interrupt her, she continued on her tangent, "I have no money. I'm alone. I don't have anything and if you're planning on selling my body parts then-"
"What-"
"I'm asthmatic. I have GERD- well, maybe, I don't know, I haven't had that checked yet." She stops to think, "I also have PCOS, I swear no one will buy me from you so-"
"I have nothing to give you." She stops and it took a few minutes before-
"Follow me," Namor instructs and she tenses, backing away from him a little.
"Come here." He repeated, more commanding. But when he saw the panic in her eyes and the way she closed her hand in a tight fist, he changed his tone, "I will take you to where I found you, so follow me."
"What do you mean: found me?" She asked, slowly and carefully walking closer to him. She was still wary of him but for now, she has no choice but to trust him.
Namor turned to her a little, "I found you in the water close to our border. I sensed a disturbance in the waves and when I went to look, you were there." He knew she didn't believe him since she again had that look on her face.
Of course, she replied, "That makes no sense."
"Believe what you will. I'm taking you back." He continued to walk ahead and she followed timidly. They arrived in front of the tent once again. The two other strangers were still there, waiting for them. The woman was smirking while the taller man only looked at her suspiciously.
Namor then steps into the water, he was waist-deep before he turned to her, "Come."
She hesitated, still.
"I thought you wanted to go home?" He asked her, a playful grin on his lips.
"Yeah but- how do I know you're not gonna drown me once I get in there?" She crossed her arms in front of her chest and Namor laughing dryly caught her by surprise.
Teka. Ang cute nun ah. Hala. (Wait. That was cute. Oh no.)
"Trust me," His grin grows wider, "If I were to kill you, I wouldn't need the water."
She swallows and bites her lip at his words, her heart pounding for some strange reason. Maybe because he was cute when he smiled- oR MAYBE BECAUSE HE JUST FUCKING THREATENED TO KILL HER.
She starts to weigh her options again but then, of course, not one of those was a perfect solution for an escape. And Namor said it himself, there was no way out of the cave without their help. So she sighs, might as well go with it. If she does die there- well- she hopes she doesn't but if she does- then she's dead. What else is there?
She walked over to the water and as soon as she was at the same water level as him, he pulled her closer to his chest, her face flushed when she braced herself against him, hands on his biceps.
Namor gives her the mouthpiece and she starts to feel her breathing slow down a little, her mind getting a bit fogged up with an unknown haze.
"Breathe." He commands and she follows. As soon as her breathing was steady, he drags her underwater.
"Eyes open, child." Was the next thing she heard him say. As soon as she did, she shielded them from the sun before looking around.
"Where-" She noticed they weren't near a beachfront like she expected. Instead, they were in the middle of fucking nowhere.
"Where I found you," Namor explains and she turns to him with another one of those disbelieving looks.
"What? No. That's-" She looks around again, "That's impossible. There's nothing here." She gestured to the open sea.
"Do you think I am lying?" Namor asks and she looks him in the eye. It unsettled her, even more, when she could see that he wasn't. He was telling the truth.
Pero what the fuck? (But what the fuck?)
"Where-" She swallows the lump in her throat, "Where are we?"
Namor could tell that she was finally starting to believe him, "Near the borders of my kingdom."
"And that would be where again?"
"You surface-dwellers call this place the Atlantic Ocean." Surprisingly, he was patient with her despite her doubt and her use of foul language every now and then.
"Why do you say that?" She suddenly asked and when he raised a brow, she clarified, "Why do you call me a surface-dweller?"
Ah. Apparently, it still wasn't obvious to her that Namor and his people were different from her. Don't blame her though, some parts of her brain are working and some are not. Seriously though, whose brain would work properly after finding out you may or may not have been kidnapped by some weird-looking dudes?
"You don't live in the ocean, no?" Namor asked back, "How do you think I was able to carry you from the cave into the open sea without trouble? Without that mask?"
She thought for a while. Namor could tell she was really racking up an idea in her brain with the way her brows furrowed and the way she scrunched up her nose. She was thinking- or at least she was trying to.
Finally, she gave up and shrugged, "I dunno. I just thought you were a good swimmer."
Surprisingly, he chuckled. He was obviously amused. She was obviously stupid.
"I am not like you." He then said, earning another raised brow from her, "What are you then?"
"Think." He pointed at his forehead, in hopes that she would understand what he meant for her to do.
Thankfully, she did. She looked at him- really looked at him. She took note of his tanned skin, his deep brown eyes, his dark hair, and his jewelry. If that was all there is to him then she may have stuck with her first conclusion. Btu there were still the pointed ears- and she remembered seeing his winged feet. She also recalls the other two who had blue-colored skin.
A dawning realization creeps up on her and as Namor watched her think, he could tell that she was starting to understand. She didn't. Not really.
"So-" She starts, "You're- what?" She tried to think of a term but couldn't. Again, the brain was gone. There is one possibility she could think of but she thinks that the idea was too out there. There's a one-in-a-million chance that she'd be able to meet anyone from there.
So, no- it wasn't an option. It was too- unrealistic.
But then another idea popoped in her head- not a good one though-
"Ah! Shokoy!"
"Excuse me?"
"Teka. Masyado kang gwapo para maging shokoy. But-" (Wait. You're too good-looking to be a shokoy. But-) She goes on a tangent once again, not bothering with Namor who was looking at her incredulously,
"You have the qualities, I mean- no, you don't- maybe?" She gestures to nothing, "Look, I don't know. You don't have fins and your ears are just pointy. You have winged feet instead of fins but then again, may paa nga ba pag shokoy?" (-but then again, do shokoy even have feet?)
"What did you call me?" Namor cuts her off her thinking, swimming closer to her a little and she finally looks up.
"A shokoy?" She asked back, "It's like a- hmmm- mer...man? Loosely." Unsure and a little confused, she wonders at the look he was giving her.
"I am not a merman. I am a mutant." Namor was about to tell her the story of how he was born and how he became the ruler of the kingdom of Talokan.
"Teka. Teka. Teka. Wait." She stopped him, waving her hands in front of his face, "You said, mutant. So- like- the X-Men?"
"Who?"
"X-Men. You know?" She asked and shrugged her shoulders. Not getting the reaction that she thought she would get from him, she continues, "Everybody knows the X-Men. They're new but apparently, they've been living among us for quite a while now. They're a new addition to the Avengers... kinda like a sub-group." She explained and when Namor still didn't show any sign of recognition, she tilted her head.
"You really have no idea who the X-Men are? They might be like you guys."
Bat di niya alam? Eh kaka-join nga lang nung mga un sa Avengers. Na news pa nga un. Pero baka kase walang tv sa tubig. (Why doesn't he know? They just joined the Avengers. It was in the news. Maybe because there's no television underwater.)
"I do not care for the affairs of the surface-dwellers." Namor finally answered.
"Aray naman." (Ouch.) She replied and held her chest dramatically while she raised her other hand, "Surface-dweller here, sir."
Namor grins unconsciously, "You are amusing."
Before she could say another word, Namor turned around and she sees that the woman from before was right behind him except she was wearing a different set of clothes and she had a huge headgear on.
They talk with each other in the language our protagonist can't understand. The words exchanged were said with a sense of urgency. She noticed the way Namor suddenly tensed- his back straightened and his biceps clenched. When he turned around to look at her, his brows were furrowed, his jaw set, and his nostrils were flared.
"What's going on?" She asked.
"Come, we must return to the cave." Namor grabs her by the arm without a second thought or any warning before they dove deep into the water.
She had no idea what was going on. The blue people, more of them, not just the first two who were with Namor, were scrambling around and they were carrying-
"Are those spears?" She asked under her breath. She was just standing in the corner awkwardly. Looking here and there.
As soon as they got back to the cave, Namor dove back into a much deeper pond. He was gone for minutes and she waited by the edge, not knowing what to do. The question of what the fuck is happening and how the fuck did she get there was still on her mind but when about a dozen of the foreign people emerged from the depths of the pond, she stepped to the side politely to make way for them- to whatever the hell they were going.
She looked at them and they stared back. They were probably wondering why someone like her was in there with them. It was obvious that she was a visitor. Well, maybe visitor is a loose term.
Staring contest ito. Ang awkward. Ano ba gagawin ko dito? Pasok na lang kaya ako sa tent? (This is a staring contest. How awkward. What am I even doing here? Should I go back to the tent?) She thought to herself and started to crabwalk.
Again, no idea why the crabwalk. That's just her weird ass choice.
"Stop." She heard someone say and she turned. One tall guy was approaching her in quick, long strides. It was a different one, someone she doesn't know by face.
"What?" She asked and took a step back since she was intimidated by the way this man was looking and walking toward her.
He speaks quickly- too quickly that it doesn't register in her brain. Not that it could, he was speaking in another language. He sounded commanding- he looked commanding. And when she didn't respond to him since she can't understand jack shit, he suddenly grabbed her by the arm-
"Oy! Tangina- get off!" (Fucker- get off!0 She yelled, surprised and frankly, a bit offended at how she was grabbed without warning. She tried to yank herself away from him, only to have the stranger laugh in a mocking tone.
Aba gago to a. (This asshole.)
"I said-" She gritted her teeth- FIGHT MODE ON.
"-GET. OFF!" She stomped her foot on his, making him let go of his iron grip, she doubled back and braced herself before kicking him in the nuts. He bent over in pain and shock.
Never mess with a Filipina.
She removed one of her aqua shoes and raised it over her head, "Nyeta ka. Makahablot, kala mo walang bukas. Who the hell are you?" (You fucker. Grabbing me like there's no tomorrow.)
The man glared at her and stood up, a threatening and dangerous look in his eyes, "Who do you think you are?!" He yelled angrily and was about to raise his hand but a firm grip on his shoulder stopped him.
They both turned and she sighed in relief when she saw Namor. They talked with each other, Namor sounding gentle yet with authority towards the other man. The stranger seemed to settle down before his eyes widened, making her wonder what else Namor had told him.
The stranger looked at her and what he did next surprised and confused her even more. The man knelt on one knee right in front of her before muttering something in the other language,
"Forgive me."
She raised a brow but before she could even ask what the hell he was doing and why he was doing it and what he meant, Namor had taken her by the arm. He then spoke in a commanding tone over the people gathered by the cave.
She wondered what he was saying. It must've been important and it must be about her because they all looked at her with- she doesn't know what look they were giving her- maybe- acknowledgment? Could be.
Namor then turned to her, "There is something I have to attend to. You must stay here." He ordered,
"What? Where are you-"
"Stay. My people will look after you as I have instructed. I will return-" He calls her by a name in the language she's not familiar with and she tilts her head, not understanding shit. But again, before she could ask, he had turned on his heel and left with most of the people carrying spears out of the cave.
Once they were all gone, she sighed, looking around at the remaining strangers with her. There were two men- who she assumed were left to guard her, and there were three younger women.
Oh tapos. Ano na bes? Nga-nga. (So now what?)
One of the younger women then approached her and handed her some new clothes before gesturing for her to follow. She looked down at the garments and then back up at the stranger. With another heavy sigh, she thinks to herself-
May choice pa ba ko? (Do I have a choice?)
requested tagging: @deputy-videogamer @rokuhoku @queenotaku23
#namor#namor the submariner#mcu namor#mcu namor x reader#namor x reader#namor x filipino!reader#namor x filipino reader#namor fanfiction#mcu namor x filipino reader#personal#namor x you#namor x original character#mcu namor x original character
169 notes
·
View notes
Text
Mayari Masterlist
Finished (but still thinking of new ideas.
(Last Update: Sept. 19, 2022)
Loki Laufeyson x Original Female Character (reader)
Ratings/Tags: Explicit. Fluff. Angst. Smut. Slow burn. Friends to lovers. Mentions of sexual abuse (not done by main characters). Trauma. History of abuse. Thoughts of suicide. Action, fight sequences. Gore. Language.
This entire series is inspired by songs. The complete playlist could be found here on Spotify.
(⚡ Action Sequence) (💋 Smut) (💢 Angst / Trauma) (🎶 Song Fics) (👑 My favorites)
Season 1
Chapter 01 | One, Two, Fly 🎶
Chapter 02 | Grrrl, Like ⚡
| Grrrl, Like (part 2) 👑⚡
Chapter 03 | You Should See Me In A Crown
| You Should See Me In A Crown (part 2) 👑⚡
Chapter 04 | Wildest Dreams 🎶
Chapter 05 | Coffee
Chapter 06 | Positions 🎶
Chapter 07 | Man With The Horn 🎶
Chapter 08 | Sugar
Chapter 09 | Swim 💋
Chapter 10 | Woman 💢
Chapter 11 | Goddess 💢
Chapter 12 | Six-Inch Heels 👑💋🎶
Chapter 13 | Crush 💢
Chapter 14 | Flashing Lights 👑💋🎶
Season 2
Chapter 15 | Put On Repeat 💋🎶
Chapter 16 | Boys Like You 💋
Chapter 17 | Brother
Chapter 18 | Do It For Me 💋
Chapter 19 | Feel It 👑💋
Chapter 20 | Elastic Heart
Chapter 21 | Destiny ⚡💢🎶
Chapter 22 | Darkside Of The Moon 💢
Chapter 23 | The Ruler and The Killer ⚡
Chapter 24 | Local God 💋
Chapter 25 | If You Let Me 💋
Chapter 26 | So This Is Love 👑
Chapter 27 | Heavy In Your Arms 💢
Chapter 28 | Leading Us Along ⚡💢
Chapter 29 | Demons ⚡💢
Chapter 30 | I'm So Sick ⚡💢🎶
Chapter 31 | Misguided Ghosts ⚡💢
Chapter 32 | War With Heaven 💢
Chapter 33 | Love Like You 🎶
Chapter 34 | Mine 👑💋
Season 3
Chapter 35 | Do I Wanna Know 💋
One-Shot
Better Version 💋💢
#loki fandom#loki fluff#loki fanfic#loki laufeyson#tom hiddleston fanfic#tom hiddleston fanfiction#loki angst#loki smut#loki series#mcu#loki x you#loki x reader#loki x OC#Marvel fanfic#MCU fanfic#Mayari#filipino mythology#norse mythology (MCU)#song fic#song lyrics#asianwomen#asian oc#loki reader insert#loki x female reader smut#loki x original character#finished fic#masterlist#fluff#smut#angst
187 notes
·
View notes
Text
Mission Failed: Successfully
Prologue || Aimed to Kill - Ep 1 Re-write
Pairings: (eventually)Marc Spector x Filo!Reader; (eventually)Steven Grant x Filo!Reader; (eventually)Khonshu x Filo!reader
Word count: 4.2k+ words ik im shocked too😨
Summary: Moon Knight Episode One, In the Alps, but with Ynaguinid's Python, You.
Warnings: grammar, lots of swearing, violence, blood mentioned many times, lots of swearing, no use of y/n, lengthy fic, MAJOR SPOILERS FOR MOON KNIGHT EP 1 and NOT BETA READ (if i missed any, kindly tell me in the comments ^-^)
Gif not mine!!
PISTE GIATAY YAWA-
You cursed under your breath as your air got knocked out of your lungs, groaning from the transferred impact of your kalasag to your arm as you had used it to guard yours and Marc's body, as you two jumped from the window of the second floor which housed the scarab.
"You okay?" Your question is muffled by your makeshift mask using your blue scarf, as you look down at the man you just held on to like there was no tomorrow as you two had thrown yourselves off the building. "Do you have it?"
You would've expected Marc to nod, ask you the question too and separate himself from you then run to escape.
Instead, he looked at you with a confused stare and answered with a reluctant, "I-I am alright.. I'm sorry, do I have what? Where am- Where are we??"
Why is he speaking in a British accent? Did he hit his head?- oh gods did you let his head get hit on the ground?!?
"I-I'm sorry but- who-who are.. you?"
"Who am- Marc..what?"
Your brows furrow deeper as your eyes search his face for any signs that he was tricking you- but found none. The sharp, hard glare you were accustomed to is replaced by soft and dazed ones, an expression you wouldn't have expected to see on Marc's face and damn did it suit him- NOT THE TIME.
His brows scrunches in the middle of his forehead as you mentioned his name, looking lost and stares at you in bewilderment.
"My name's Steven..Steven Grant, actually- why-" He looks down at you two's position-
You two have yet to stand and remove yourselves from each other after huddling close to make sure you both would be protected by the shield, you noticed this and immediately let your iron grip on his jacket go. He also seemed to just notice that his arms are around your waist, upon seeing this he was quick to mutter apologies with wide embarrassed eyes and pulled his limbs to his chest, sitting up before quickly holding your arm to help you up.
"I'm really, really sorry-" Marc? mumbles more apologies, "I'm a little lost, I was just in my flat awhile ago and I-I don't know what is happening-"
You let your shield disappear as you pull yourself up with his help, who's currently a babbling mess, apparently doesn't know you and now speaks british.
Hopefully Khonshu will not kill you for accidentally giving his avatar amnesia.
He seemed impressed by the use of magic, before he can ask about it though you firmly hold his his wrist to get his attention, stopping him from questioning everything around you, which he should have an idea about because one, he's leading this mission in the first place, and two you have been working for months now!
You opened your mouth to ask him if he was okay, what's going on, but the yells from the window that you had just leaped off cut you off.
You both look up just in time to see a man ready to rain fire at your position. Reacting fast you summon your kalasag once more and pull Marc back to you. The man yelps at the force and panics at the sound of guns firing.
Okay- Something's not right. What is happening?!
'Wala natay panahon ana lang!! Piste- Dagan na!!' 'We don't have time for that dear!! Fucking- Run, now!!' You hear Ynaguinid yell angrily in your head and you could only nod in reply as you sprint away from the house with Marc in tow.
"Y'know- using your throwing moons now would be good for both of us!!-" You commented as you grip Marc's arm and run down the hills while making sure no bullets will hit any of you.
"I'm pretty sure I cannot throw moons!!!" Oh this motherfucker-
"Just- oh fuck-" You mumble more curses as you slide down the small slope, giving you a bigger shield and a small time to buy-
"Why are they firing at u-"
You stop his question with tuts and a hand in front of his face, "OKAY okay- We'll talk later, alright?! I'll answer everything, Steven, but we won't be able to do that if we're dead now, would we? Meet me at the village! And keep that scarab safe!" You yell in the midst of the gunfire, working on a compromise since it seems that Steven is not going to fight back anytime soon. He looked like he wanted to say something but the bullets once again refrains him from saying something.
"GO!" You ordered the man before running back up, summoning your kampilan and slamming the front of your rectangular shield to the goon nearest you, pushing that man down off his balance, giving you time to hide yourself from the other goon's firing. You advanced to the firing goon and smacked his gun off his hand with your shield and plunged your sword into his stomach.
"What about you?!"
Ay pagka-gago- 'oh this stupid-' Although you're touched by his concern, the scarab is what's important at this moment. That was what you came for in the first place. The scarab. Your life be damned as long as this stupid person who's had that trinket won't unleash a genocidal asshole.
"I can handle myself Marc!" You mindlessly replied as you hid behind your kalasag, the man you knocked down earlier had stood back up and is now firing at you. You glance back at Marc- Steven- WHOEVER THE FUCK HE THINK HE IS- who's still hiding behind the slope and gave him your most burning raged glare. He seemed to finally understand that you need no help and can handle yourself before running down to the village, he kept looking back at you as he did but eventually ran straight ahead.
You hear more incoming- and the asshole who's firing at your reload, which you didn't waste time to use the opportunity to get back at him with a heavy kick to the chest and slash his throat- you whine to yourself as you watched three, maybe more, people approach you with loaded guns. Your adrenaline is spiking to its highest at the sight of them surrounding you, just like back in the Philippines huh, you thought to yourself knowing Ynaguinid could hear you, as you grip your sword tightly.
'Just like back in the Philippines, my child..' The deity repeats, you humorlessly chuckle and twirl the blood stained sword.
"Let's fucking dance then."
~~
That man did not just kill that old woman.
Steven looks at the poor old lady who's lifeless body is being carried away from the plaza, saddened by her death. He gulps as his eyes catch on to the men that wore similar clothing to the people that were shooting at him and, you, the resolute person back at the hills who he just witnessed make weapons and shields appear out of thin air.
He still hasn't found you, which made him worry a bit. Though you looked like you can handle yourself, he still cannot stop from being concerned for your well-being. You just saved him, you held on to him, surely he meant something to you and you to him yet, he doesn't know you. He's never seen you in his entire life yet you spoke to him like you two had been seeing for months, and you called him Marc-
His thoughts halts when all of the people crowding the place suddenly kneels, startled he looks around and follows, "Oh bollocks.." perhaps a little too late-
"You."
He looks up at the man in maroon, looking around him to see if he was actually talking to him.
"Who-who, me?"
"Mercenary."
~~
Panting heavily, you ran and made a sharp turn to an alley to your left, bumping the wall and used it to push yourself and gain more momentum, just in time before Harrow's goon could corner you.
Your scarf concealing your identity had been pulled down from your face to make it much easier to breathe. Discarding any regards to your enemy recognizing you if ever they come across you on a normal day because fuck that! You need to breathe!
You just hope Ma-Steven is okay and the scarab is safe. Rounding left, you see a man block your path at the end of the small alley, your groan internally in annoyance and search for any exits, you didn't slow down though, you ran faster instead and since you found no exit other than sliding under the goon's legs, you opted for that and successfully bypassed his stupid blockage. Sometimes being short has its perks.
Scrambling back up to your feet, you continue to run at the street, trying to find Steven Grant in this village and avoiding bumping into as many people as you could.
"Here, little warrior." Khonshu's deep voice echoes in your ears, you nearly lose your balance as you skid to a stop to turn where you heard the god's voice. Turning right and running down the road, finally seeing the avatar. You thanked the Egyptian deity.
Steven -or Marc- was scrambling away from the village people, who are no doubt Harrow's followers. Your arrival did not go unnoticed by the man with a power-laced cane, seeing your bloodied clothes one wouldn't doubt to assume you and the man trying to escape are working together.
And also because of the fact that there are also people running behind you shouting to stop you.
Your running did not stop. Your lack of oxygen is now making your lungs burn and making it difficult to breathe, but you have to keep running. This time, you do not care who you are going to run over as you catch up to Steven, seeing as he had gotten into a fucking cupcake van. Hey, it's better than nothing!
Grunting, you push a man out of the way to reach the door handle of the back of the van but someone got a hold of your jacket and pulled you away.
"Puta!-" You yelp in annoyance as your body gets yanked back, stumbling back and away from the van at the force.
The moment you slipped on your feet, the people started to crowd you and hold you down, you struggled against their hold and got a glimpse of the leaving pink vehicle before a lady flung herself on top of you, blocking your line of vision and knocking the wind off of you. You feel yourself paling at the thought of getting left behind.
Is Marc and Khonshu really going to abandon you here in the alps? Leaving you helpless against Harrow's force and getting locked up while he runs scott free?
'Kabalo kang dili jud ko na itugot na mahitabo na, 'nak!!' 'You know that I wouldn't allow that to happen, child!!'
Just as long as they have the scarab, that is okay with you, you convince yourself as Ynaguinid screams reassurance in your head.
But, even then, that doesn't mean you won't put up a fight against these sons of bitches-
A pained whine emits from your throat as you thrash to free just one hand as they begin to trample over you like how quarterbacks would, crushing you with their weights against the brick road and disabling you from breathing properly, your vision doubling from the lack of air.
'Barog, akong sundalo! Ipakita sa ilaha ang kusog sa usa ka sundaw ug ang kakuyaw sa lason sa bitin!!' 'Stand, my warrior! Show them the strength of a warrior and how lethal a snake's poison is!!' You hear Ynaguinid's stern command amidst the ruckus, her tone laced with worry.
A surge of power then washes over you, a scream tears from your throat as you feel Ynaguinid channel all of her abilities through your flesh. You feel the weight above lessen as the people scramble away from you as well as the feeling of being engulfed by familiar fabrics. Wailing surrounds you, you glance to Harrow's followers. They were scratching their bodies as if they were bitten by ants as your body had released a toxin, courtesy by your deity no doubt. Your throat squeezes as you regain your breathing as well as your ability to move your limbs and with all your might, you knock the remaining people on top of you off.
You gasp and gulp back air to your system as you stumble up to your feet, your kampilan appearing on your hand, ready to strike whoever is going to attack you. But seeing none, you push your wobbly legs and run towards where you had seen the van drive off to, ignoring the ringing in your ears as well as the muffled screaming behind you.
If it wasn't for Ynaguinid's steadfast determination flowing through your veins, you would have passed out. You thanked your deity in your head, panting through your mouth as your body craves more air while running, again.
You see a glimpse of the cupcake van just up ahead, looking like it was slowing down. You exert more force on your legs, more force than you had exerted before to reach the vehicle.
As the vehicle is in arms reach, you didnt hesitate to jump and throw yourself in, breaking the door and startling the driver as you land harshly on the steel floor of the van.
"GO! NOW!" Ordered the god of the moon, you assume it was his avatar he was ordering but you couldn't care less about that. Your utmost priority at the moment was to breathe and not die in exhaustion in the back of the van.
You swallow, needing to lubricate your dry throat and roll to your front, your vision blurred which made you confused, gods are you seriously going to pass out right now?!
But then you feel something wet trail down your cheek, you touch it and see clear water on your fingertips. You were crying. Part of you know the reason but the other is denying that.
"You alright there?" You heard Steven ask from the driver seat, the ringing a while ago has subsided allowing you to hear him clearly and the song from the radio.
Wake me up! Before you go-go!
"I'm fine-" Your reply came out weak, and hoarse. You slam your fist on the metal floor as your thoughts wander to the fact that he left without you.
"Are y-" "Did you plan on leaving me to die, back there Marc?- or Steven?! Gods I-" Your lips tremble, after weeks of working with this asshole and the pigeon, all of those nights just fade to nothing when it comes to mission priorities?!?
"No-no!! I would never leave you!! It's just that-"
Guns once again stops his sentence.
"Oh bugger-"
"Piste yawa giatay bulshet PISTE!!" You yell your heart out in anger and frustration as you punch the boxes of cupcakes, not caring of the icing staining your costume.
~~
Steven grips the steering wheel, he hadn't meant to leave you behind! He actually waited a bit even as the villagers started to climb on the van. He had looked at the mirror to see you being piled up with people trying to restrain you. And he saw it. Like a hint of green smoke emitting from the human pile, before the people scrambled to get away from you. He saw you fling the remaining men who's still yet to get off you. He saw you being clothed with some sort of magic and your eyes glowing an angry green under the shadow that formed on your face.
He thought he had gone mad. That all of this was just some mad dream he is going to wake up from. But the people, the pain, felt all too real, yet what is happening feels all too possible!! This has to be a dream!
The moment he saw you throw those people off was when he started to drive, swerving the van left to right to get the attackers off the van, apologizing to every single one of them as he did. He doesn't mean harm but he has to protect himself, and the scarab, apparently!
"Don't you dare leave them behind!!!" Screamed the voice in his head,
"I won't!! I won't!!" He had thought that voice could've been his conscience or something.
He tunes himself back to present, maneuvering in the highway as cars follow and trail after you and him with guns trained. He doesn't even have his licence with him! And yet here he is driving full speed with a person on the carriage of the cupcake van!!!
"This has to be a dream!" He repeated out loud as he made a turn, "We're going to be killed!"
"We're not going to be killed!!" He sees you stand up with a little bit of swaying from the rear view mirror, the icings on your costume along with the blood on your hands and glowing eyes made it look like you were some godly cupcake murderer.
"Just keep on driving, and try not to kill us both while you're at it. I'll handle them!" He sees you pick up the sword you had dropped and braced yourself in a stance as you face the oncoming cars.
He only nods frantically with a gulp. Okay- as long as he won't crash this van, you two are going to be-
Bang!
A car had hit the side of the van, he looked to his right with a scream, the men had their guns aimed at him. He ducks as much as he could to avoid being shot while still making sure he can see the road.
He hears commotion behind him and glances back, a man just got stabbed by your sword and kicked in the chest by you, letting the corpse roll on the highway and get crushed by the cars tailing them.
He grimaced at the image- all of this is stressing him out- he just wants to go back to his flat, safe and sound. Away from death-
He feels himself roll his eyes back-
~~
You whipped your head to the sound of gunshots from the front- Steven!-
You grip the gun you stole from the asshole number something, wobbling from the swerving of the van as you quickly made your way to the front not caring to crush the boxes under your feet and pushed yourself between the seats, aiming at the multiple assholes by the driver seat and pulling the trigger. Hitting mostly their arms but one bullet was able to hit the driver's head-
"Thanks-" The familiar american accent and timbre mumbles from your driver and snatches your gun, and continues to shoot the other goons on the other side who had caught up on you two.
Not missing the change of demeanour, you hit his bicep after he shot his shots.
"WHAT THE FUCK IS HA-"
"NOT RIGHT NOW OKAY-"
The van swerved again to a sharp turn, throwing you to the front seat, hitting your side in the process and putting you in an awkward position that is DEFINITELY far from sitting.
"Fuckin- awhile ago you just started screaming your head off like a headless chicken-"
"Not right now," he growls your name in warning but you continue-
"- not knowing how to- atay yawa-" You grunt as you push yourself up and sit properly on the seat- "how to fucking summon your throwing moons, speaking like some kind of posh asshole saying your name is Steven fucking Grant-"
"Kung mo-sulti gali na siya ug 'not right now' balik, tuk-on jud ko ni siya ba!" 'If he says 'not right now' again, I am going to strangle him!' Says Ynaguinid somewhere behind the carriage but you ignore her-
"I said NOT RIGHT NOW!!"
"RAGHHH TUK-A RA GUD NING GIATAYA NI!!" 'CHOKE THIS FUCKING ASSHOLE RIGHT NOW!!'
"-and now you're shooting like you know what is actually happening!!!"
You hear him shoot more goons behind you and groan, you glance at him ready to flip him off but his eyes rolling to the back of his head makes you soften your gaze just a bit in worry as you look back and forth between him and the road.
"Ste- Marc- Ay ambot oy!- Are you-" 'Oh I don't know!-' You reached out but his yelp made you retract, as if the gun he's holding burnt his hand and hastily dropped it.
"I DON'T UNDERSTAND WHAT IS HAPPENING!!"
You look at him confusedly and look back to the road as you heard something-
"Truck-" You grab and shake his forearm and pointed at the truck about to collide to your van-
"What?!-"
"TRUCK TRUCK-"
You and the tanned fella on the driver seat shrieked your heads off as the van barely misses the oncoming truck AND the edge of the cliff.
Mamatay man kaha jud ko ani dire kay tungod aning boang! 'I think I'm gonna die here because of this fucker!' You cuss inwardly and vocally as you swore you felt your soul left your body-
Two cars are still on your tail even after the truck you just avoided flipped to its side.
MAMATAY JUD KO DIRE YAWA- 'I'M REALLY GOING TO DIE HERE SHIT-'
They sandwich your pink van and draw their guns, aimed to kill you both and you can hear Steven -you guessed by the accent- repeating frantic no's as he ducks out of the guns line of fire.
You took out your kalasag and shielded yourself and summoned your kris dagger on the other and leaned towards him -
"KEEP YOUR HEAD DOWN OR I SWEAR TO THE GODS I AM NOT GOING TO REGRET ACCIDENTALLY KILLING YOU!" Was your only warning to the avatar before throwing your dagger to the driver on the other car by the driver seat.
You hit your target right on the eye just as your fucking partner took the gun he dropped awhile ago, leaned his hand on the side of your sheild and shot the passenger on the car driving by your side, blindly yet luckily hitting the guy.
His lack of attention to the wheel made the van skid, the force making you lose balance, once again, yelping as. you are tossed to the driver's side.
Although he was quick to turn the wheel back, you are now driving backwards.
You cuss more and more in fear, annoyance and fear- it's all just blending at the moment- but seeing the other car drive off the cliff, you cussed in victory.
"HAHAH! FUCK YOU MOTHERFUCKER!!"
"I'M DRIVING BACKWARDS!!" The high pitched, british accent squealed beside you and that's when you knew Steven is back again- you may not understand what in the actual fuck is happening but the pattern is not hard to miss-
"Ah yes, welcome back, honey bunch sugar pop-"
The vehicle shakes as the car bumps the front of your van. Steven yelps, both at the shaking and the gun on his hand and-
"PISTE NA- GILABAY JUD NIYA ANG PUSIL?!?!"'OH FUCKING COME ON- DID HE REALLY JUST THREW THE GUN?!?!' Ynaguinid is back and is obviously pissed at the move- while you just stared at the front where the gun had been thrown to.
"I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M DOING!!" Squealed the man on the driver seat.
The car hits the front of the van once more, swerving the vehicle back to where its front should be. You grip to the handle by the broken windshield as Steven turns the wheel several times to control the van. It halts to a stop just as the car that just bumped you overtakes and blocks the road. Its passengers unloading one by one-
You look back and forth to the oncoming enemies and the struggling Steven as he tries to start the van. You tightly gripped your shield with heavy breaths, summoning your kampilan with the other, ready to fight again but the rumbling from the cliff above you stopped your plan- Tree trunks hitting the person, you look up just in time before a trunk hits your van and scrambled onto his lap, engulfing his head with your arms as you use your kalasag to shield your bodies from the heavy cylindrical boulders rolling from the cliff above you.
You curse loudly and groan at the transferred impact from the trunks to the magical shield, swaying along the van as it gets hit.
Then silence.
Heavy panting are the only things heard in the van as the rumbling stopped.
You swallow and look down at the man below you, the sharp and harsh gaze you've grown accustomed to looks back at you, and dare you say in worry.
Your position and proximity is not in your mind as you two share the air you're breathing in as you calm down. Because if it was, you would've been a blushing mess on top of the man. Your flushed state could be of fatigue or by the situation but fuck that-
"You better give a damn good explanation, Spector, before I leave you choking on your own saliva."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hope you guys enjoyed the reader insert re-write!!👀 This is not a direct sequel to Chap 1 tho(now named 'the sun meets the moon').
Anyways, feel free to leave constructive criticism in the comments bellow and hope you guys have a good day/night!!💞💞
Taglist: @m4nd0l0r @jasmines-greentea
#G•writes#ATK#Aimed to Kill#moon knight x reader#moon knight x filipino!reader#marc spector x reader#marc spector x filipino!reader#steven grant x reader#steven grant x filipino!reader#khonshu x filipino!reader#khonshu x reader#mcu x reader#mcu x filipino reader#marvel x reader#philippine mythology#Philippines#mythology#Ynaguinid#Khonshu#moon knight#marvel#mcu
208 notes
·
View notes
Text
Poison Doubt that seeps from Within.
Description: Tears drip down your cheeks, and she watches you sob with sorrow, wishing she could do something else than listen.
Ship: Layla El-Faouly x Filipino!Reader (is sapphic/wlw coded but no pronoun use)
Category: Hurt and Comfort (Venting) (Reassurance) (References to Layla’s past relationship with Marc)
Word Count: 1.5k
Author’s note: WARNING! This has reader venting, please have discretion when reading this for your own mental stability 😭 Arabic nicknames are used again (pls feel free to correct my usage if i’m wrong) and Reader says at least a few filipino words but there’s translations :DD also this is my first time writing the dialogue as the angst not the actions- so it’s a little clunky in my eyes 😭😭
Insecurity runs deep into people’s veins, like poison ivy to tree bark, it seeps venom quicker than you think.
Hands on your face, Layla kisses the tip of your nose. Your eyes fluttered close, staying in the moment, in this serenity. You lean closer to her palm, earning a satisfied sigh from her lips. She leans in, your body further slips into her embrace, molding your body to hers; fire meeting clay from one touch.
Dissolving like ice on the surface of heat, you melt into her, trying to let yourself forget, drifting into the quiet, with only her heartbeat as your lullaby. You felt like a child, grasping for the warmths of your beloved, she only slithers her hand to the crook of your head, soothing you into tears.
“Habibti..” (My love) She calls you, feeling wetness below her collarbone. You shake, shoulders rumbling as her fingers grasp on you tighter. Layla wishes she could give you even further comfort, to do something rather than just holding you like this. She for once, wants to grasp for knowledge like the foolishness of her own father; to sate her curiosity in order to discover.
Only this time she wants to know how to protect you. From this pain.
“You can talk to me.” She utters, “I want to help.” Your head wriggles its way to look up at her, your eyes red and swollen, remnant of salty tears lathered on your cheeks. “I.. It’s stupid.” Was all you said, her hand cups you, a finger traces the lines of your face.
“Nothing that makes you cry is stupid, sweetheart.” Layla reassures you, “Whatever that upsets you, it’s not nothing.”
You only purse your lips, heaving a small stuttering breath, a way to calm your nerves. “It’s just… your friends.”
“I don’t want you to be offended ‘cos of this..” You go on, eyes straying away from her face out of shame. Looking at anything else to not wallow yourself in fear.
You can’t bear to see her reaction from what you were about to spill out from your mouth. You just couldn’t. “.. They seemed.. I don’t know.. Wary of me? At first I just.. I just thought they were looking out for you, what friends usually do.”
You still didn’t dare look at her. “And I was fine with it.. I mean- I would do the same for my own— But this. This felt different.”
“I could feel their eyes tries to dig their way at me, waiting to see my faults. I told myself.. maybe again, that they were being protective of you, thinking I’m not good enough for you- and I understood that.”
Your voice starts to break down, making you feel pathetic. You didn’t want her to pity you, you just needed to be honest. “But when you were gone.. getting some drinks for us… Then they just.. kind of came up to me, trying to ‘add’ me in their conversation. They just started to.. indirectly talk shit about us— our.. our relationship, especially me.”
Her eyes slightly widened in horror, yet your head still lowered. “They kept comparing me to.. Marc. Told me they were in your wedding and shit. Trying to jab me ‘cos you had a big ol’ diamond ring with Marc.. not me.” You rolled your eyes from the pettiness of it, like the situation was some sort of school fight. “I don’t care- nor mind that you had that kind of history with Marc— in fact it’s not even my business to think of.”
“It’s just that they kept.. comparing, y’know? Comparing that Marc was the better lover, the better date planner, the better gift giver— the better one to be with you in their eyes.” Exasperated, your voice shivered. “They just kept on throwing all of that on me.. jabbing the idea that I’m not good enough for you.”
You were now spilling, not knowing where or when to shut up. You just couldn’t not let it out. A jar of milk on a high shelf; it was as inevitable as that.
“My insecurities just kept on.. overfilling.. I didn’t react, I just let them be.. didn’t want any problems for you. And I know you care for them so I just. Couldn’t. I couldn’t dare.. I didn’t want to hurt you when it was obvious they were targeting me.”
Layla was biting the inside of her cheek, silencing herself to let you talk, to listen, to be there for you.
Shuddering, you heaved. “All I want is to be good enough for you— Even if I can’t be better than Marc with all of this.. I just want to be loved by you. The same way they said you loved Marc. With happiness in your eyes everytime you’d see me- or even when you’re near me. I want that because I feel the same for you- I love you so much that my own heart would burst each time I think of you.”
“And yet the people close to you.. not approving or accepting of me…” You gulped. “I just can’t help but agree with them, that you deserve someone better than me. Someone.. who could properly take you in dates without being anxious, someone who could effortlessly be… perfect for you.”
“Because I’m none of that. I’m just.. not enough.”
Finally raising your head back at her, her hand squeezes yours, and her tear ducts were burning, threatening to break. Her beautiful face growing red, tainted with frustration. “Oh mahal (love).. Layla… please don’t cry. Don’t cry for me.”
“How could I not?” She asks you. “How can I not cry when they’ve insulted you? Insulted us?”
“I’m not worthy your tears.” She only cradles your face again, pushing you closer to her own. “Habib albi (Love of my heart), how could you say that when they— you know that you make me the happiest woman alive?”
“Layla… There are better people out there.. rather than me.”
“No— Don’t say that please, you are more than enough, habibti.”
“You make me so happy, I’m sorry I’ve made you feel otherwise.. That you feel compared to Marc… Please know that the way I love you is different from his.” Your eyes glimmered with underlying fear.
What could you mean by that, dove? The words lump in your throat, clogging your mouth from speaking. But she strays a strand of your hair away from your cheek, her mouth opening. “The way I loved Marc, it was.. quick. We felt as if we were rushing. Because of how.. our life, our work had forced us to run, to be unstable— to not settle.”
“We tried.. once. But… things happened.. We developed problems.. secrets... and it all spilled on us. Making us decide to separate. We still care for each other.. But it wasn’t like before, with that feeling in your chest that makes it feel.. giddy.”
Her honey eyes looked with adoration to you, like sweet, sweet sugar. “But then I met you, in that library. Where you were having trouble getting that one new book by one of your favourite authors at the top shelf, saying that you’ve been waiting for it to be released, and I had to get it for you by climbing that creaky ladder ‘cos you got scared you’d fall.”
“You.. You remember?” Surprised that such a small thing still stuck by her mind.
“How could I not? You even seemed afraid for me to fall off.” She teased through misty eyes, making you smile a little through your tears. “The way you were so excited to read it.. that shine that filled your pupils… ya helo (my beautiful), I thought- no knew, that you would find a place in my heart, filling a bigger hole than Marc ever could.”
“Because with you, I could actually settle. I could take things slow- actually enjoy my time of being in love because it’s you. I could actually love you freely without fearing of losing time— and I feel safe living a life where I would go to markets, look at trinkets like some lovestruck couple. I never thought that I could ever end up with someone such as you, because you are too perfect for me.”
Tears lump in her face, spilling down like a raging stream. Your thumbs reach her cheeks, wiping them off of her face. Even if she weeps, she’s still so beautiful. Like a painting you could gawk at in a museum. “Layla...”
“So don’t you ever think that, you are more than enough for me.” Her forehead touches yours, “Ya hayati (my life), you’re all I need.” Her hands grabbing on your forearms, not wanting to let go.
Your eyes burn again, and her fingers slip further unto your hair, letting her push you lightly towards her. Her lips on your cheek, she plants open pecks to every corner of your face, on your cheekbones, the creases below both your eyes that is wet from your tears, between your brows, the bridge to the tip of your nose, and your delicate forehead.
You only sigh in content. “Mahal na mahal kita. (I love you so much) You do know that right?”
Her last kiss was on your lips, you felt her own softly brush your mouth, like a feather’s touch. “Yes, yes I do.”
#moon knight#moon knight fanfiction#may calamawy#layla el faouly#layla moon knight#layla el faouly x reader#layla el faouly x you#layla el faouly x y/n#marc spector mcu#filipino reader#layla el faouly x filipino!reader
52 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈'𝐋𝐋 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊 𝐎𝐍
♡ my name is afe !
♡ i am currently 17 turning 18
♡ zodiac sign: ♒︎
♡ i'm filipino
♡ misfits podcast
♡ harry potter
♡ now you see me
♡ mcu
♡ hotd
♡ fate: winx saga
♡the 100
♡ misfits podcast
↪ goodguyfits (cameron mckay)
↪ zuckles (mason)
↪ swaggersouls (swagger ,, eric)
♡ harry potter
↪ mattheo riddle (fancast)
↪ hermione granger
↪ lorenzo berkshire (fancast)
↪ weasley twins (fred & george)
↪theodore nott (fancast)
↪ blaise zabini
↪ ron weasley
↪ harry potter
♡now you see me
↪ daniel j. atlas
↪ jack wilder
♡mcu
↪ bucky barnes
↪ steve rogers
↪ peter parker ( depends who)
↪ loki
↪ thor
↪ etc,,
♡fate: winx saga
↪ riven
↪ sky
↪ beatrix
↪ bloom
↪ etc,,
♡hotd
↪ daemon targaryen
↪ aemond targaryen
♡ the 100
↪️ bellamey
↪️ clarke
↪️ john murphy
♡ fluff
♡ smut (i have no right to stop you from reading them)
♡ head canons
♡ incestry (for the sake of hotd)
♡ brother+sister
♡ dad+daughter
♡ a to z's
♡ x reader
♡ will write for other pronouns (no neo pronouns lol)
♡ gore (?)
♡ incestry
♡ vulgar words
♡ hard smut & kinks
♡ trauma (self harm, abuse, ed, sa, etc)
♡ i sometimes use the word retard (it's not a slur lol)
#x reader#house of the dragon#fate winx saga#daniel atlas#aemond x reader#steve x reader#misfits podcast#mattheo riddle#x you smut#x you fluff#multi fandom fanfiction#lorenzo berkshire
74 notes
·
View notes
Text
NICO
INTRO
- Hi, I'm Atlas or Nic, Mac even.. tbh anything u like :3
- I'm a minor and an amateur writer and artist! (drawing wise)
- I use He/him pronouns though any can be fine, just not she/her
- bisexual trans ftm
- Gabriel O'Hara enthusiast
-I love kpop, marvel, (some) anime, cartoons, etc. just ask
- prolly have smt wrong w me so if ur my moot and we interact here and I start showing my true self and u feel uncomfortable, sorry T T;
SOCIALS ;
You guys might recognize me for my bangchan pfp OR my Gabriel ohara drawing.. in this case my socials are :
Tumblr and cai: nicostenz
jai: macstenz
insta: nico.stenz
twt: nico_stenz
ao3: axhty_ALT
though, I'll change my insta and twt pfps to bangchan shortly after.
OTHERS (FAQ, DOS AND WONT DOS, ETC.)
FAQ ;
- am I allowed to request?
yes! You are. as long as you keep it just PG. no 18+ shit on my page. I'm a minor and I won't show/write actual porn on my page to adults who would probably do weird stuff to it as— again— i am a minor.
- Can I request suggestive content?
yes you can. but just don't abuse this feature since again, I can't always do suggestive stuff. if it's suggestive, most likely it's on a cliffhanger.
- Hey, I'm an adult! Can I interact and follow?
Yes!! just please, don't do anything weird. I.e: Flirt with me. Pls don't :/
- can I dm you?
ofc. But just know that if you spam me about something, like a request that I'll do, please note you won't be answered.
- am I allowed to request a character from a movie or show you don't know?
This depends. If its a series and it catches my eye, I'll try making it close to canon.. and not only that I'll also try watching it if its worth.. but it's only a movie I'll actually watch if you want close to canon characters.
- can I request art?/do I need to pay for a commission?
absolutely yes! You can request art from me! just be patient because as stated, I'm a minor, so I have school. not only that I'm also in a troupe which requires me training for hours, so if you don't get even a simple sketch within a week or day, don't get mad at me! Also, no need to pay me for commissions. what I'm doing is purely for fun! that's unless I need the money, then yes. maybe I might starts but please I only accept cash (if ever) through gcash, and Filipino commissioners ONLY!!!!
- hey.. is it okay to vent?
if you're my moot then yes, it's okay, just ask before since I might not be in the mood to listen or comfort. but if you're a stranger then most likely yes...? you can dm me about it but I don't think I'd do much if you vent.
- Hey! I'm part of the LGBTQIA+ community! Will you write, fem x fem, masc x masc, gn x gn etc. stories?
absolutely! people are all welcome here and as a ftm myself, I'll mostly be m reader or gn reader! though, for fem aligned followers.. i will make content, yes, but fem aligned on my mlm/male content and gender neutral stuff, can read and interact, just do not fetishise my content.
- can I request a ship?
absolutely. go ahead! I will try to write it the best I can to canon if I don't know this ship, but what I won't write is ships from shows/movies I don't know, or illegal ships. (animal x human, child x adult, sibling x sibling)
- will you write age gaps?
yea. most likely. If the age gap is 10-20 yrs I'll still write it, as long as you mean if the reader/character is an adult and its both consenting, then yes, I will.
-will you write stuff on ao3?
in the future, maybe.
MOVING ON..
WILL DO:
character x character
character x reader
canon
fanon
ooc
angst
fluff
suggestive
haikyuu
kpop
MCU (avengers, ATSV, xmen, etc)
art
requests
age gaps
ftm/mtf/gn character
ftm/mtf/gn reader
Iffy about it.. :
Daddy/mommy kink
ships/x readers from shows/movies I don't watch
$elf H (though, if it brings u comfort in a way w ur comfort character idm... just don't expect me to actually do it.)
WONT DO:
NSFW
smut
anything bdsm in general (not yet at least)
weird kinks
anything illegal (incest, step-incest, Bestiality, racist things, noncon etc.)
HOW TO FIND ME :
you won't find me in any comment section if the post is nsfw/smut or someone has mdni in their bio.
but if you do, my anon emojis are monkeys. idk if that helps but if u stumble on a requested fic with a monkey anon that's me probably 😭
(🐒🙈🙊🐵🙉 <- using those.)
the end of my intro!!! I'll edit this shit if I missed out on anything. anyway, hope and expect to see more fanfics!! soon!! (if school's being g nice hahah)
- sincerely, bangchan lover/mac/steny/nico whatever u like.
#spider man: across the spider verse#across the spiderverse#atsv#spider man: into the spider verse#artists on tumblr#angst#spiderman#spiderman across the spiderverse#haikyuu#fanfic#nic_self#marvel mcu#kpop
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
3rd Times a Charm
Pairing: Jacob Batalon x reader
Summary: Jacob instantly falls in love with his first interviewer, but how long does it take him to ask you out?
Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Jacob took a deep breath. He kept on wiping his sweaty hands on the side of his jacket, an indication of his nerves. Sure, he's done a few interviews with Tom and Zendaya, but this was his first interview by himself.
His manager told him that it should be a lowkey podcast, as it was a media company that just started a couple of months ago. He'd be their first Marvel celebrity guest to interview so he shouldn't feel the pressure, right?
You wouldn't agree.
You were just an intern when the company started to form. You'd be in charge of making graphic designs for their Facebook and Instagram Page. You were proud of your work, but you just wished that there would be opportunities than being stuck on your laptop.
When you requested to be an interviewer, your boss thought it'll be a great chance for you to open your horizons as he liked your welcoming persona and camera presence from your past job interview with them. So when they told you that your first podcast would be with a rising actor for the newest Spider-Man film, you almost fell off your seat.
You were agitated beyond relief for shooting as you were drinking your third Starbucks coffee in the past hour. Your coworkers told you not to sweat it, as they heard that Jacob was a sweet heart. You took that in mind, hoping that you wouldn't be apart of those tragic interview compilations that ended up in your fyp.
You were praying that your career wouldn't end just when it began.
When it was time to shoot, you got up from your desk and nervously walked to the studio. You were looking down at your notes and silently recited them to yourself. When the door to the studio flew open, your head perked up to see who came inside.
Jacob was talking to one of the representatives for the company as he walked into the studio. It was a really nice getup, as he was turning his head to the minimalistic decor with the LED lights.
He hears footsteps heading towards him and turns around to see you. "Hi, welcome to the studio! I'll be your interviewer for today."
Jacob smiles as he shakes your hand. "Hey, thank you. It's really nice to be here." You two walked towards the mic area and explained the gist of what was going to happen.
"I know Marvel can be a bit secretive, so if there's a question that you can't answer, I totally understand. But just remember, this interview is for you. The audience would love to know you better. It's really refreshing to see an uprising actor on screen." You said.
"Really? Thank you, I didn't realize had an impact so sudden." He said.
"Of course you do! There's a reason why you're here. You should be proud." You replied.
Jacob was a bit speechless, he never had a stranger praise his talents before in such a confident way.
"Shall we head to the couch?" You ask.
"Uh, yeah! Let's do this." He claps his hands as he followed you to sit.
Once both of you were properly mic-checked, you introduce yourself and presented him. As weird as it sounds, it didn't feel like there weren't cameras on you.
Both of you were smiling and laughing, talking about his time on set and how he and Tom instantly clicked during auditions and readings.
"Being Ned on screen has been such a fun experience. I really wanted to bring his character to life. The MCU has this versatile way of changing any person in the comics and making them have more depth."
You nod from his words. "It's so important, especially now. Earlier today, when I told you how you've impacted a lot of people in this film, what was initial reaction?"
Jacob looks up, trying to come up with an answer.
"It's... really surprising. As a Filipino who grew up in Hawaii, I really wanted to make my family and community proud. I worked on a short film before, but just landing a Marvel role for this new blockbuster has truly been a blessing."
You looked a little starstruck at him, admiring how humble he was.
"That's incredible. I mean, besides being a great actor, what are other hidden talents do you have?" You ask.
He chuckles to himself, using his finger to scratch behind his right ear.
"Well, I play uke and guitar, and i sing every once in a while." He says, a bit shy.
"I'm quite impressed! You gotta play me a song sometime." You said.
He smiles, feeling a bit flushed. "Yeah, I'll give you a call."
You smile back at him, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You hear a small cough in the back and you turn to see the camera man signaling you. You didn't realize that you and Jacob were looking at each other way too long, almost longingly.
"Well, I just want to say thank you Jacob for coming and talk about yourself and to our wonderful audience for tuning in."
Jacob collects his senses as he turns to the mic.
"Yeah, y'all been amazing and thank you for having me here!"
You both get signaled that you're off air and you two get off the couch.
"I just want to say thank you for being my first guest. It's really been a treat talking to you." You said.
"Wait, this is your first interview? I'm the one that should be honored!"
His manager alerts him that it's time to go and Jacob turns to you one more time.
"I hope for the best for you and hopefully I'll bump into you soon." He says.
You shake his hand, feeling warmer than before. You blame your thick green cardigan and the leftover caffeine in your system.
"You too, and good luck on your future projects. Maybe I'll catch you on the red carpet" You said.
You two said your goodbyes and carried on throughout the day.
Finally, you were in your apartment, brushing your teeth before bed. You were looking at the podcast that was tweeted on your company's account. You scrolled at the comments fans wrote, and your eyes widen at what the majority wrote about:
the two of you.
omg, why did it seem like the interviewer and Jacob were flirting???? tell me i'm not wrong here people
okay, this has been the most sweetest interaction I've seen in Marvel celeb interviews. crossing my fingers this becomes a thing!
You couldn't believe it. I mean, you just met minutes before on camera and they think you two have chemistry? You tried not to think about it as you headed to bed. It's not like you were falling head over heels for the guy. I mean, c'mon... he had kind brown eyes, a blinding smile, an infectious laughter-
'Stop it.' you mentally screamed in your mind.
You stare at your ceiling and clear your thoughts before you drifted off to sleep. Hopefully things would blow over and people would realize that just have wishful thinking.
Hopefully...
Spider-Man: Far From Home (2019)
Believe it or not, Jacob had a pep in his step.
He's been auditioning for more roles. Sure, they're a bit small, but he had a blast meeting/making friends with the cast of each film.
But traveling for Far From Home was really exhilarating.
Shooting with the others made it seem like they were in high school again, just having a blast.
He realized now that there were a lot to look forward to.
The same went for you too.
Your career kinda changed within the company you started in. They asked if you could be a full-time interviewer. You've attended so many events, either from Netflix premieres to award shows.
Now you were here, eagerly waiting for the cast of Far From Home to run the red carpet. You were able to interview Angourie Rice, Tony Rovolori, and Jon Favreau (you were internally freaking out because you were a big fan of his work).
You thought you were done, but it wasn't until your camera man reminded you that you needed one more person to interview:
your first celeb guest.
Were you avoiding Jacob at all costs? No, of course not! Were you trying to avoid your heart jumping out of your chest if you hear his voice?
Maybe.
People were still talking about your first interview, especially your family. Even your youngest cousin asked if you follow Jacob on Instagram. You said you didn't, only your company's account does.
But as their social media expert, you "had to" follow up on Batalon's recent journeys.
So you were tucking your hair behind your ear, eagerly waiting your turn as you see Jacob taking pictures with Tom and Zendaya. He turns his head to the left, and suddenly sees you on the outside of the rope looking nervous, dusting away on your blazer and skirt.
"Whoa, what?" He says to himself.
"You okay, man?" Tom asks.
"There's the girl that had me on her company's podcast, I gotta go to her." Jacob said, saying a quick goodbye to his friends.
Your camera man coughs for you to pay attention that he was making his way to you, and you felt your blood rushing at the speed of light.
"Jacob! It's nice to see you again!" You said, smiling brightly
"You too! It's been too long." He replied, initiating a hug which you returned.
'Man, he gives great hugs.' you thought.
'Wow, she still smells like cinnamon.' he thought.
You two let go (the hug was a bit longer than expected) and you returned to your interviewer mode.
"So, Jacob... I heard you enjoyed your time in South Korea!" You said.
His face lights up as he gives you his signature flashing smile. "It was amazing doing press there! I got interviewed by some cool guys who fed me beer and fried chicken! Still dream about it to this day." He said ecstatically.
"I'm glad you had a fun time! Sorry we don't have food for you to try here." You said jokingly.
"Don't worry, I'm having a blast talking to such a beautiful girl as yourself." He replied.
Your eyes widen as you were nervously stuttering.
"Oh! Uh, Th-Thank you." You said, clearly blushing from his words.
Jacob turns a bit sheepish as he scratches the back of his ear.
You coughed to regain your senses as you try to continue the interview, asking about his movies from 2018 and his newest Netflix film, Let It Snow.
"It's such a treat to talk to you again, I bet the movie is going to be amazing." You said in your mic.
"Thank you, I'm really happy that you're here." He said to you before the coordinators asked him to go and finish the carpet.
Jacob looks back to you wrapping up on camera, admiring your passion and drive from afar. He returns to his friends that finished posing and turned to him.
"Hey, how'd the interview go?" Tom asks.
"It went... really good." Jacob said, smiling to himself.
"Really good?" Zendaya asks, questioning his fishy behavior.
Jacob realizes he looks a little dumbfound so he tries to get of the situation.
"Oh, look at the time! We gotta get to our seats before it starts." he said, already making a break for it.
His friends are left there, skeptical.
"Ten bucks Jake has a crush on the girl who interviewed him." Zendaya said.
Tom looks at Zendaya, smirking.
"Oh, you're on."
A day passes, and Jacob is scrolling through his phone to see the latest hits from last night. Suddenly, he sees a link to the interview he had with you last night and almost chokes on his coffee, reading the comments.
WHAT? DID HE JUST CALL HER BEAUTIFUL? BOI IS SHOOTING HIS SHOT ON CAMERA
Imagine the edits people are making right now
@marvel can we possibly have Ned have a new love interest? particularly Jacob Batalon's interviewer please?????
Was it that obvious he liked you?
There is no possible way that you two can be a thing. I mean, he assumes you breathe your job and that you wouldn't go out like a guy like him. You were so much deserving of everything and he didn't feel like he could be a part of that.
He put down his phone and went on his day. You were doing your job, you were just trying to get to know him for your audience.
Right?
Spider-Man: No Way Home (2021)
So much has happened in the past year.
Jacob's been reflecting on his life and really wanted to take his career to the next level. He was going to star on his first lead role in Reginald the Vampire and was excited that it was going to be released the next year. Other than that, he decided to change his lifestyle. People were surprised of the weight loss and often speculated how it could affect his character for Ned, but he did it for himself. He was happy that he wanted to change things for the better and to grow as a person.
But it felt like something was missing.
Looking at his laptop, he decides to maybe clean out most of his media accounts since he had nothing else to do.
Looking at his followers, he sees a certain account that was deactivated for some time. He begins to investigate and is shocked that it was the company that brought him in for the podcast 5 years ago shut down due to the pandemic.
He felt bad, as he knew a lot of businesses either had to let go of employers or entirely close for good. But then he realizes:
What happened to you?
He searches up your name on the internet (He just wanted to know if you were alright, nothing else) and sees a Vogue website.
He clicks the link and couldn't believe it. You were their Graphic Designer.
He reads your bio and sees that you were recently hired this past year, being one of the youngest people to be in this position. He felt a sense of pride, knowing that you could make it to the top.
How did you get to where you are today?
It wasn't that simple.
When the pandemic hit, life was falling at the seams.
The company couldn't survive any longer, so they had to let there employers know that they're shutting their doors.
You were scared beyond belief, especially knowing that you were unemployed. You then started making commissions on the side as you used to make digital art, but it wasn't paying the bills. So, you decided to apply job after job, but you felt like your skills weren't being used to their potential. It was like you were stuck, and you couldn't figure out how to move.
So, you asked for help.
Seeing a therapist was the best decision you made. You found your self-worth again and you found your drive to do watch you love. So, you quit your job you weren't happy with and took a big step for your dream company: Vogue.
They were impressed by your resume and your past works. You cried a lot when they called you that you got the position. You haven't heard the good news in a long time, and you felt like your life was getting back on track, off to smooth pavements.
But, there's always a little bump in the road.
Your first project that you did was with Zendaya. She loved collabing with you and realized how both of you had a lot in common, like how both your parents were teachers. You became close friends, and she invited you to a party she was hosting.
You came early to her house to help her set up. A while later, Tom arrives with drinks and is surprised to see you.
"Hey! It's been a long time! How are you?" Tom greets you as he pulls you in for a friendly hug.
"I'm good! I know work Vogue now, that's how I met Z." You said, smiling back at her.
"Yeah, besides her, you've been the topic of the week." Tom says jokingly.
You quirk an eyebrow. "I'm confused, who else has been talking about me?" Tom was trying to come up with an answer until a loud voice entering.
"-Hey Daya, who's care is parked outside?" Jacob says, turning in to the room everyone is in.
He pauses in his tracks as he sees you. Both your eyes widen from seeing each other.
"Uhhhhh hi." Jacob says awkwardly.
You nervously smile and wave to him.
Tom and Z stood back, slightly amused and cringed from this interaction.
"This will be interesting." Tom whispered under his breath.
Throughout the entire night, both of you were avoiding each other. It just felt awkward at first, you've only known each other through work but you never had a personal conversation without a camera and mic in both your faces.
You decided to take a break from the party as you sit in the back, enjoying a drink to calm your nerves.
"What are you doing here? You've been dying to party all night." Daya jokes as she joins you.
"I'm sorry, I just feel... overwhelmed." You said, taking a sip from your can.
"You like Jacob, don't you?" She asks.
You fiddle with the seltzer in your hand. "Maybe? I don't know. Every time i've talked to him, I feel so nervous and giddy at the same time. God I sound like i'm 15 years old again."
Daya laughs as she turns around, seeing Jacob outside drinking alone.
"Well, maybe you two should talk. For real this time, no prompts or scripts." She suggested before hugging you and heading back to host.
You take a deep breath as you got from your seat and took a shot of courage, walking towards the person you've been avoiding all night.
Jacob sits down, looking at the sky. He's trying to find some peace in his worried mind. He realizes if his attraction towards you was created because of people shipping you two, or you were just a recurring person in his laugh he was bound to meet time again. He wasn't sure if you were... the one.
"Is this seat taken?" a voice chirps out.
He looks beside him and sees you, standing with a bit of agitation.
"Yeah, help yourself."
You nod your head in thanks and quickly take a seat.
You both talk a bit, but kept on gazing a quick look at each other.
"So... I read that you work for Vogue now, how has that been?" He asks.
"It's been a dream come true. I- I never thought I would get hired after everything. But I miss the old job, I was finally getting used to rubbing elbows with the celebrities." You joked.
"You gotta tell me who was your favorite interview." Jacob said, now swinging his legs on the side of the chair facing you.
You chuckle nervously as you fiddle with your fingers. "It was actually... you."
You make eye contact with him as he seemed a bit stunned.
"This was a mistake, I'm sorry." You said, about to leave.
"No, Please! I'd like you to stay if that's alright." Jacob pleads.
You look at his big brown eyes, almost getting lost in them. You decide to sit back and steady your racing heart.
Jacob coughs in his mouth and turns to you.
"Can I ask you something?" he says.
You chuckle for a second, thinking that you were the one that would ask him the questions.
"Sure."
He takes a deep breath and looks at you. "Have you ever felt like you met someone and you don't think of anything else because you two were neutral people but then the more you see them, the more you're excited? Then suddenly all eyes are on you and people have their own comments but the one opinion you could only pay attention to is the other person and you wish they had the same feeling?" he says in one breath.
Your eyes turned big as he admitted the same thoughts as you.
"You've been feeling this too." you whispered, a bit dazed.
Jacob laughs in relief, flying his palm to his forehead. "Yeah, i don't think it was healthy to keep that in for five years."
You couldn't help but smile. "I feel the same way."
Now it was his turn to feel agitated.
"About-"
"Everything." You finished his sentence.
You two decide to just burst out in laughter, realizing you guys were acting a bit insane.
"Why don't we just reintroduce ourselves?" You ask.
"I'd like that." he responds.
In a distance, Daya and Tom were sitting by a couch cuddling with each other. Tom points out to Jake and you flirting with each other outside.
"Guess you owe me that ten." She says.
He looks at her, smirking.
"Let's double it, 20 quid he asks her to go to the No Way Home Premiere."
She rolls her eyes playfully, knowing for a fact that you and Jake are going to be end game.
"Alright, bet."
A few weeks later, Jacob posts a picture of you two on the red carpet and all Hell broke loose on the internet.
Fans lost their minds as their ships finally happened.
I CALLED IT FIRST PEOPLE. I BETTER SEE A 💍 IN TWO YEARS TOPS
Saw their first interview together in 2017, they were so adorable! Wishing you two the best and congrats to Jacob's new project on SyFy!
BEST. COMEBACK. EVER.
Jacob couldn't believe his luck, 3rd times a charm.
#ned leeds#marvel#marvel cinematic universe#mcu#spider-man#spider man#jacob batalon imagines#jacob batalon x reader#jacob batalon
11 notes
·
View notes
Text
"beloved."
Pairing: Namor x Filipino!Reader
Rating: General Audiences, Comedy
Summary: You ask your... "sorta" friend what the meaning of his other name is. His answers break your heart, so you take matters into your own hands.
Word Count: 2,516
Content Warning: Mentions of colonialization
Disclaimer: Again, as mentioned before, Namor is slightly cold towards the reader! He isnt hateful or anything, just has his guard up bc of surface world resentment. Though, that guard can be taken back down sometimes ;)
__________
Reminder: This fic is part of a Namor x Filipino!Reader miniseries, but can be read on its own! Miniseries fic(s):
a piece of your history. / "beloved."
__________
The soft tune of a Filipino song played in the air, its melody dancing along with the sounds of the waves hitting the sand. Namor could only make out a few words within the song as he remembered the few phrases you had taught him. The melody was nice and eased his nerves, though he would never admit that to your face.
“What did they call you again?”
Namor blinked, processing your sudden question for a few seconds. Before you had suddenly asked him a question, you were both simply by the shore of the beach you frequented, with him in the water and you in the dry sand as usual, reading to him aloud a book that had come across your interests.
He looked at you questioningly, causing you to sputter over your words. “Oh! I meant what the Spaniards had called you when they…” You trailed off, fearing that you may have crossed a line with him this time. You knew how sore the topic was already, despite not knowing the full details as Namor refused to show any hint of vulnerability with you (or so you thought).
“What I mean is…” You cleared your throat, already bracing yourself for his reaction.
“.... Why do certain people have to call you ‘Namor’?” You finished, closing the book, shifting to fully turning to him, indicating that you were paying special attention. The cogs clicked in place in Namor’s head as he finally understood your question. He noticed that you had said ‘certain people’ instead of enemies, likely the reason being you two weren’t exactly enemies nor friends in both of your books.
“Uhm, you don’t have to answer if it’s too… y’know….” You quickly added, waving your hands in a dismissive manner. Namor’s eyebrows raised at you, causing your face to heat up. “I mean… alam naman natin na gago sila…” You quickly mumbled the last part.
Namor seemed to be deep in thought for a moment, before he shook his head and chuckled. “No, I can answer if you would like me to.”
Namor ran his fingers through the water, clearly contemplating on how he should approach your question. He smiled bitterly at you as he remembered the hateful memory. Your hands immediately went to your phone, turning the volume down on the classic OPM playlist you were playing.
“When my mother died, she asked to be buried in her homeland,” He started, playing with the wet sand underneath the water. Namor smiled, a loving look overtook his bitter expression.
“She wanted to show me the surface world and its beauty.” Her soft and caring smile flashed in his mind, it was as if he could still remember the days where she hugged him with such care. His mother was always so gentle, so sweet with him.
The prolonged gentle expression on Namor’s face was an unfamiliar one, as it was often hardened or practically deadpanned at you. You were only used to the occasional soft glimpses in his eyes.
A small part of you wished you could see this type of his face more, but that was crossing the line in your book.
“But, when I arrived…” Namor’s expression soon darkened. “They were here.” You winced, knowing exactly who he was talking about. He grit his teeth.
“They called me… ‘El Niño sin Amor’.”
He looked back at the sea, feeling that if he stared at you, you would see nothing more than hate and anger burn in his eyes, a look that would most likely scare you away. You don’t know if it helped, but you nodded understandingly, almost as if implying that he can feel if he wants to.
Namor could remember the look of fear and hatred in the man’s eyes, as if the Spaniards didn’t force him and his people to retreat in the ocean due to the illness inflicted upon them by the colonizers, before enslaving those who remained on land.
“The child without love, as they boasted.” Namor spoke in a rather biting sarcastic tone. Though he was smiling, the grin on his face was one of anger, holding no genuine joy or happiness in it.
“I took Namor from that, because I have no-” His eyes locked with you for a brief second before he averted his gaze. “-love for the surface.”
Your fingers played with the cover of the book you were holding, as you frowned even more and stared at him in disbelief.
“Luh? So bale, you were called a loveless child,” You began, a startled impression on your face, “just because you killed the colonizers after they basically enslaved and killed your people?” You asked for clarification, scrunching your eyebrows in confusion. Namor nodded, a rather grim smile on his face.
“Aba, ang kakapal ng mukha nila ah…” You grumbled, before muttering something about how hypocritical and barbaric they were. Namor smiled gratefully at you, knowing you shared the same sentiment.
He sighed, as if tired of having to relive the same memory over and over again. Namor looked back at the sea, a subtle slouch in his posture now.
For a moment, you both sat there in silence, contemplating the lives of those who lived before (at least in your case) you. So many of Namor’s people were enslaved and forced by the Spaniards, yet they dare to call him the loveless child?
You pursed your lips, your eyes looking over Namor.
He wasn’t a child without love. His mother had loved him so, it was obvious by the way his voice would hush into a gentle baritone each time she was brought up.
His people loved him so, or at least, that’s what you can make up from his stories. You’ve only ever been able to gaze at them from afar in the sea, whenever they occasionally came to check up on him. Though with the way they addressed him you could easily see the fondness.
An idea popped into your head, though you were a bit hesitant to actually do it.
“Hey,” You called out, scooting closer to him, the waves licking at your feet. Namor rose an eyebrow at you, though your invasion of his personal space did not deter him.
Finally, you sat in the water next to him, perhaps this was one of the very few times you were both less than three feet apart. Namor’s mouth opened, about to tell you off that your clothes were getting wet and rather quite see-through.
You snickered, a mischievous look overtaking your eyes, a look that Namor was quite familiar with. Too familiar with it, he adds to himself.
You pointed at his face, before your pointer finger came into contact with the scrunch between his eyebrows.
Namor’s brain went blank, processing exactly what you had done to him. Before he can even make a reaction, you cut him off.
“Iniirog.”
You started slowly, gauging for his reaction. Namor’s eyes narrowed at you, confused but not offended. Your smile soon went into a toothy grin.
“Sinisinta.”
Namor grabbed your wrist and pulled away from your finger, clearly puzzled. The soft, cool touch of his damp fingers sent goosebumps up your back, but you continued nevertheless.
“Kinagigiliwan.”
You were practically giggling at this point, leaning your body towards him, as if to tease him about the words you were uttering, completely dismissing that he had not understood what you were saying.
Hesitantly, your hand went to reach for his, causing him to flinch. You took Namor’s hand between both of yours, softly tracing the palm lines on it.
“Minamahal.”
His senses were being overloaded, the low volume of the OPM Playlist still playing in the background, though it felt as if it was echoing rather loudly in his ears.
Namor’s eyes met yours, he remembers what the word “mahal” means. But that couldn’t possibly be what you’re saying, right? Were you instead perhaps meaning another thing? (He was sure that mahal meant expensive as well, were you just messing with him and calling him expensive?)
One of your hands stopped playing with his and reached towards his face, caressing his cheek softly. You contemplated running a hand on his pointy ears. However, you decided you wanted to keep your hand intact with your body.
Namor could do nothing but stare at you, his free hand coming up to hold yours that was on his cheek, though he made no move to remove your hand. If you were to look closer, it was as if he was leaning into your touch.
Your thumb softly grazed his upper cheek.
“Nagmamahal.”
With the way Namor talked fondly about his people, you couldn’t help but notice the love and adoration in his eyes. He truly loved his people and protected them with his whole heart.
Even if Namor couldn’t fully understand what you were saying to him, he could still somewhat comprehend what you were trying to say.
Namor was not a child without love, he has loved and has been loved. He will continue to love and he will continue to be loved, you were sure of that.
To your and his surprise, his eyes fluttered close as he leaned into the warm touch of your hand against his damp cheek. The feeling was scorching against his cool skin, yet it brought comfort to him even so.
A part of him wanted this moment to never end, the soft tunes of your mother tongue playing in the background, as you practically showered him with affection that you two had an unspoken agreement about.
Soon, however, you couldn’t help yourself.
The hand on his face traced his cheek softly, before it came and pinched it rather aggressively.
Namor’s eyes snapped open as he suddenly experienced a rather painful pinch to the cheek. Your ninangs would be proud of you if they saw the red mark on his skin right now. You snickered, making kissy-faces at him.
“Bebeluvs~” He deadpanned at you, fully knowing the sound of your rather trickster voice.
“My sexy, sexy love!” You finished, laughing so much your stomach hurt. You knew that Namor probably wouldn’t get the reference, but you couldn’t help yourself from quoting none other than the queen herself, Kathryn Bernardo.
You were still laughing, peeving Namor a bit. This caused him to pull away from your touch and some distance between the two of you. The laughter soon died in your throat, as you instantly sort of regretted the fact that you ruined the moment. Shet, maybe you should’ve maintained the wholesome moment just a bit longer.
You fully expected him to stand up and leave you there in the water again, already used to him doing it with the many, many times you’ve tried to trick him into saying rather comically funny words in your language. Namor could always figure you out, though it may be because of the way you haven’t been able to stop yourself from laughing each time.
To your surprise, he simply stayed there, a contemplative look on his face as he looked down at the water he was in.
You cleared your throat, scooting closer to him once again. You opened and closed your mouth, unsure of what to say next now that you have feared you may have offended him. Namor’s voice soon filled the one-sided awkward silence left in the air.
“Your words… What did they mean?”
You beamed at him, jumping at the chance to answer. “They can all actually mean different things! ‘Iniirog’ for example can mea-” A single stare from Namor shut you up from overcomplicating the answer, though it did not stop you from grumbling about the complex meanings of the words.
“Uhm, well, generally, they all kinda mean…” You whispered the last part, suddenly feeling shy and embarrassed that you had even started all of this.
Namor sighed heavily, staring at you in dismay by your sudden bashfulness that always seemed to appear out of nowhere. “Ka a'alé, speak up.” His body turned towards you more as he leaned his head down in order to listen more carefully.
You shakily let out a breath, fully preparing to face his rageful wrath yet again.
(You were exaggerating, the most he’s ever done is splash water directly into your face. Though it did go straight to your eyes once, you never forgave him for that.)
“Uhm, what I meant to say was…” You were stalling again, nervously fiddling with your fingers on your lap, flexing them under the water.
Namor sighed. “If you can’t say them to my face, why say them at a-”
“THEY ALL MEAN ‘BELOVED’!”
You practically shouted at him, shocking him to his core. You swore you could feel the water suddenly shift. Oh no, what if the Talokanil have been watching you all this time and you just shouted at their king?!
“Or… Haha… Other things as well.”
At this point, you were just trying to fill in the rather thick silence in the air. “But uhm, they could all also mean beloved.”
Meanwhile, Namor stayed silent at your confession. Have you been whispering to him such intimate words of affection all this time?
“All those words… were you calling me ‘beloved’?” At this, you shook your head slowly, confusing him even more.
“.... Actually, the last part means something else.” You felt like you were hyperventilating at this point. Perhaps you’ve ruined your favorite OPM playlist forever, as you will always associate it with this moment.
“The… The last part means ‘loving’...” You weakly replied, not daring to meet his eyes. You feel like you’ve royally screwed up, banished from the ocean even. Goodbye, night swimming, you will be dearly missed.
You slowly looked, bracing yourself for his reaction. The scene made your jaw drop, and Namor’s face would have been priceless to you if the situation hadn’t called for it.
The flusteredness on his face would’ve caught anyone off-guard. The way his eyebrows raised as the corner of his eyes pinched at the corners. His lips were slightly open, as if to say that he was too shocked to even close his mouth.
Soon, however, Namor finally came to his senses. He finally realized what you had been trying to say to him all this time.
They had called him “the child without love” in their spitting, hateful language.
And you had called him such loving words in your native language, as if to imply that they were wrong.
When you scooted closer to him once more, he didn't flinch or pull away this time. You blinked at his movements, noting the way he slightly leaned onto you again.
“... Niib'oolal." was the only thing Namor said after a few minutes.
You’ve talked to him enough to know what that means.
You gleefully smiled at him, before clearing your throat and relaxing your posture.
“Psh, ako pa? Wala lang yun, K’uk’ulkan.”
The soft tunes of the OPM playlist from your phone continued playing in the air, and the cold feeling of the water soon came to feel like a warm embrace instead.
#namor x reader#namor x you#namor x y/n#namor x filipino!reader#filipino!reader#namor imagine#namor one shot#namor x pinoy!reader#pinoy!reader#mcu x reader#namor of talokan#mcu x filipino!reader#mcu fic#namor fluff#namor x filipino reader#namor mcu#mcu x filipino reader#namor x reader fluff
410 notes
·
View notes
Text
His Timeless Love
K’uk’ulkan x Reincarnator!Filipino!Reader
Summary: A God such as K'uk'ulkan has lived life by the hundreds, yet you wonder why he has not found his true love during his time of immortality. It might just shock you to believe that he had already loved you since the summer of 1592.
Or, in which K’uk’ulkan tells you the story of the four times he fell in love with you and the three times he saw you die.
Rating: 18+ Minors DNI
Warnings: Angst, mentions of violence, colonization, Namor absolutely loathing colonizers and their language, graphic depictions of the Philippine Revolution, possible historical inaccuracies, extreme Catholicism, the violence of the Spanish regime, body worship, oral (f receiving), penetration (p in v), deflowering, cockwarming, creampie
Word Count: 23.5K :))
Note: This work follows along the history of the Philippines and the influences of the colonizers throughout the years of subservience. I claim no historical accuracy to the plot but the timeline and the implications of each historical era was and is researched accordingly. As such, I am also of Filipino descent specifically from Bisaya, Ilonggo, and Ilokano backgrounds.
This work is a connecting piece to His Queen. Both can be read separately and in any order.
Capital City Talokan, 2025
"Why did you choose me as your queen? Did you not find anyone worthy of your love in your long decades of life?" You had asked him in your shared chambers one night, your fingers tracing the hills of his knuckles and peppering kisses to his exposed chest.
The feathered serpent god pulled you closer to him, your legs intertwining with the silken sheets, his hand painting murals upon your barren back.
"I will only love you and only you." He replied. He lingered a kiss to your hair and whispered sweet nothings in his mother tongue. You resisted the urge to swat his arm—like you always do as a sign of your playful affection; a Filipino thing, really—and brought his hand upon your cheek to tenderly kiss the palms decorated with callouses, a clear sign of his training.
"You have avoided the question, my dear king."
"Does it matter?"
"It matters to me," you heaved yourself up to your elbows and trapped your king within your arms; your noses barely touching, your bare chests grazing with every slow intake of breath, your hair falling like a curtain against the luminescent algae light. K'uk'ulkan stared up at you with nothing but pure adoration, yet you felt a deep sadness from within.
You persisted, "you are hiding something from me."
As if the sea had sensed its rulers melancholy, it shifted and it hummed amongst the rocks of the royal chambers. It crashed into you like the waves of a full moon's midnight, pelting your eyes with the sting of tears. You know not of the reason for your own sadness, but you knew somewhere in your soul that it was connected to your husband's own sorrow.
He reaches up to caress your cheek, and like a subservient dog to its master, you lean in right away to the warmth of his loving hands. He traced your features, every curve, every freckle, every bump, and every line down to the very last detail. He was memorizing every inch of you. He was burning it to memory.
"It is not a tale that is to be taken lightly. It is a burden I alone must bear."
You leaned down further until no space was left between your bodies. His breath hitched when you caressed his own cheeks, fingernails running through the planes of his chiseled face. He was a God in every way, and you worshiped every part of his divine countenance.
"I am your wife. I am your queen. What you know, no matter how vicious of a tale, I must shoulder. It is also a burden I must bear with you."
"My queen—" you silenced him with your lips. He would have returned the gesture with fervor, but you pulled away just as quick.
"K'uk'ulkan, akong hinigugma, akoang hari," my love. My king. His body shook in response to your mother tongue. He wondered if it was your powers at play. He, the embodiment of the sea, so easily bent to the will of your prowess. It was hardly fair, he would muse. But he will do as his queen demands, "tell me. Tell me what plagues your heart."
He hesitated for a moment. Flashes of decades worth of memories invaded his sight. You sensed his plight—you always do—so you tore your eyes away from his own earthen gaze and rested your cheek against his chest where his heart thumped in speed. You tapped your fingers to the rhythm of his pulse, your breath matching his to give him a sense of comfort. That you were there to listen.
And with a heavy sigh, he started;
"I've decided to make you queen the first time I saw you—during that fateful day you had fought off Spanish colonizers to reclaim your motherland."
"But I have not lived that long." The drumming of your fingers stopped. You felt his heart race faster. You did not look up, instead, you waited for him to continue.
"Not the you of the present," he tangled his own hands to your hair, his fingers playing with the strands mindlessly. There was an edge to his voice now, but as soon as you found purchase to his free hand, he breathed in a centering inhale before he continued.
"...but the you of the past."
Mactan, Cebu, Philippines, 1592
Namor.
A name fit for a cursed man like him; coined from a language he found vile. Niño sin amor. A child without love.
It was a few years since the passing of his mother, a few years of getting accustomed to the weight of the responsibilities as the ruler of Talokan. His heart was still tainted with the fresh vengeance of the colonizers that plagued the surface world that his mother so loved.
Yet he does not do anything for people with the same plight as he. He had to protect his people—his Talokan—even when it meant he would ignore the cries of help from the land-dwelling natives robbed of their ancestral lands.
As revered as he is in the eyes of his people as king and as a god, he was still a man fresh from adolescence. He was still a young man full of rebellious curiosity.
He loves to practice his flight above the waters of the seas. He mimicked the swiftness of flying fish, maneuvered the skies as he had seen from the native birds of the unknown lands he passed by. He was in no means masterful with his winged ankles just yet, but he was agile enough to move across the oceans until he felt the cold Atlantic winds turn into the warm winds of the pacific.
He always marveled at the new lands he happened to stumble upon—perhaps his mother’s love for the surface world had rubbed off on him in some way. He knew the sea was his home. Talokan was where his heart lay bare.
But he cannot help but drink the sights of the orient south; pure white sand, lush forestry by the line that divided the beaches and the wildlife, birds of every color unknown to him chirping in greeting as he flew past the polka-dotted whale sharks just skimming through the water’s edge.
The sea-life, as if sensing the presence of their sovereign ruler, acknowledged the winged serpent god when he dove down to admire the rainbowed corals of untouched treasures. There were creatures that were new to his eyes, unique to this area, Namor could only think, and were peculiar in nature. He did not dare disturb them and continued forth, now submerged in the warmth of tropical waters.
This new land was beautiful, Namor would not refute that fact. Although in his heart Talokan reigned supreme, the underwater civilization was still young—at least the same age as he is. They were still settling in down the depths and adjusting to the darkness of the deep.
Someday, Namor thinks to himself while staring up to the sun just below the water’s edge, someday I will bring the sun to my people.
He jolted in surprise when creatures that surrounded him suddenly dispersed at great speeds. His feathered ankles unfurled in alarm when the muffled boom of cannons reverberated from the ocean floor. Namor maneuvered his way through the dense coral just as a shower of debris and ammunition wrecked through the homes of the creatures he had just admired a few minutes prior.
His heart cried out for the defenseless life that was caught in the crossfire, yet he resisted the urge to surface in whole—he cannot compromise himself without the company of his guards nor with the absence of his spear. His people still needed him.
So he took shelter behind the rocky shallows hidden by a cliff’s shadow and watched.
Warriors clad in colorful striped garb emerged from the thickets carrying spears and precious swords adorned with crested jewels and metals.
Despite the ruggedness of their appearance (although Namor suspects it was from the running they had to go through to escape their assailants otherwise no such noble tribe would look so tired and soiled), they carried themselves with the poise of native royalty; their necks and ears were covered in golden jewelry, the anklets upon their feet clinking with the same metal. Men, women, and those possessing the traits of both alike wielded a weapon worthy of a warrior that even the Talokanil will respect.
These people streamed through the beach with expert ease, yet there were far too many wounded to traverse through the sand with the same swiftness as the others before them.
From the thickets came the spark of death, guns shattering the oriental hymns with powerful thrums of gunshots. Namor’s eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched in fury when he saw the same likeness of the conquistadors that plagued his own motherland like a disease, the men of the clergy following close behind with greased crosses and bellies bulging from the weight of their own gluttonous sin.
They hid behind armed soldiers like the cowards that they are as they continued to assault the now cornered tribe. Their feet were against the raging currents of the rocky sea—lethal if they jumped in without guide nor repercussion.
“Ríndanse,” surrender, one of the armor clad soldiers declared in the tongue so vile Namor had to control his seething rage, “o nos veremos obligasdos a disparar.” or else they will be forced to shoot, the Spanish man continued.
Either these people learned not of the vile tongue of the invaders or their will as warriors were keeping their mouths shut, they did not respond.
Namor’s feathered ankles bristled with a deep hatred, and along with it the selfish desire to end the lives of blasphemous fiends. But before he could fly to their aid with no weapon nor army to his name, a member of the tribe yelled out with such ferocity that it startled the gunned men. A decorated spear flew across the beach and pierced through the heart of one of the friars at the backline.
Chaos ensued afterwards, the tribe running for refuge in the forest they had long since protected upon the instruction of their general. There were casualties left at the beach—both tribesman and colonizer alike—until what was left standing was a warrior with a bloody spear and five men with empty guns and chipped swords.
That was the first time he had met you.
You were a spectacle. A sight to behold. He watched in awe as you twisted your spear with practiced ease with techniques that were unorthodox, yet there lie a hint of refined institutions from formal training.
Namor could only assume that you were yelling obscenities to the colonizers in your mother tongue, a dirty kind of wretched curses falling from your lips. It was not something he would find common from the mouth of what seemed to be nobility—for your neck, ears, and feet held far more gold than those of your brothers and sisters, and the cloth from your striped garments were of brighter hues and were held with belts and fasteners of gold.
The seams of your rattan woven cotton skirts shimmered under the setting sun from golden threads and silken hems, and he knew for sure that your clothes were fit for one of the higher crusts in your community.
One of the Spanish men had aimed for your neck, yet it only served to cut through the tinsel and jasmine wreath atop your head. The golden crown upon your forehead unraveled with your braids and fell at your feet in waves. It was tangled as it was heavy, yet you still moved as if no weight in the world could stop you.
You were outnumbered yet they were unmatched, this much was true. But your gait was smaller than those from the farthest countries of the southwest and they towered over you like predators to meager prey.
They had managed to give you cuts, bruises, and near fatal wounds, yet your stance never wavered, not even when you had struck three men down to their knees, their blood spilled on the fine white sand.
You were cornered, alone, and near death. But you never gave in.
“Mga yawa…! Dili gayud kami motugyan!” We will never give up, you bastards! Like a final wail to the gods of war, you swung your spear in blind rage.
You expected to die by the blades of Spanish intruders, yet you found yourself in the mercy of a god.
He rose from the water like a raging tide. His dark eyes burning with a fury that you could not fathom a mere mortal could possess. He bore the strength of a hundred men and killed them with his bare hands.
How foolish were you to have pointed your own spear at such a creature whose ears pointed to the heavens with his feet decorated with the feathers from the holy birds above? How would you dare question the majesty of his divine presence? You quivered and you shook, the wounds from your fight gushing with blood.
“Who are you?” You asked in your mother tongue. He cocked his head to the side. “Have you come to kill me as they have killed my people?”
“I do not understand you,” The serpent god replied in kind, his arms raising to show no harm, “but I do not wish to kill you.”
You could not understand his tongue and neither did he understand yours. But you felt his neutrality. You lowered your spear until it touched the sand of the darkened beach, the only source of light coming from the full moon peeking from the low tides of the horizon. In that moment of surrender you found yourself falling forwards, your steps now failing you at the loss of a threat.
You felt your body being cradled by the arms of the winged god—how impertinent must you be to act so foolishly in his presence.
Through the haze of your thoughts you watched as he descended below the waves after he had left you in the comfort of the shade of a coconut tree. His back rippled with the water, the tides following his every whim. One last thought consumed you before you were drowned by the comfort of the sea’s lullabies and into the arms of dreamless slumber.
“Maklium sa Tubig…”
The God of the Sea.
Following the days of your healing, you sought out the beach of your ancestral lands to wait for the Maklium sa Tubig. You were not fit to lead the rebellion against the Spanish just yet, and the other tribes had created treaties to stop their momentary strifes to battle against the common enemy. You were not as needed as you are in the frontlines whilst you rested, but you knew it was a matter of time before you had to go.
Filthy colonizers, you thought in anger. They cut down ancestral trees and burned down villages in the name of their own god. They set up fortresses without regard for the spirits that dwell in the mounds of earth, sullied the waters of the divine with their disgusting wastes.
They cursed in a foul language while holding their symbols of prayer, and they kill the caretakers of your sacred lands in cold nonchalance. They were mere strangers to the home of your royal forefathers, but they act as if they own the lands that your people had cultivated.
You needed to join the battle; lest the soil of your mother becomes more tainted with the blood of its children.
You needed to see that man—your god—before you were to be whisked away in war against the men with monstrous weapons and diseases that wiped out your sister tribes.
“Please, I want to see you once more, Maklium sa Tubig.”
As if to answer your prayers, a figure came and rose from the depths of the sea, his winged feet aiding him to his ascent and towering over you as a god would to his children. The moon shone upon him with favor, coating his body with a glow of magnificence.
You bowed your head low and kowtowed before the god of the sea while ignoring the wounds from your fight. It has only been a few weeks since your battle, but that did not stop you from whispering your odes of worship in your mother tongue.
The squelch of wet sand startled you out of your prayers. You dare not look up at the god who has saved you from your doom. No words were uttered between you, but you felt a large hand resting itself on your wreathed head.
“Raise your head.” He said in a language that you did not understand. As if rediscovering this plight, Namor pulled you up to your feet and stared down at you with those dark, calculating eyes.
It held no such warmth for you—you do not think a creature as powerful as he would hold warmth to a mortal whose spear pointed at his neck after he had saved you—yet you felt safe in the presence of your savior.
You tore your gaze away from your god and stepped back, your head hung low and your arms extended in a respectful offering. In your hands were the finest of golden jangle necklaces with intricate detail. It depicted the crops that lay in high noon, the mountains of your dearest homeland, the spears of your ancestral warriors, and the waves of the ocean that he, your god of the sea, ascended from. Beads of precious stones were in between the golden plates; the most expensive and the rarest that you could find.
“Ilahad ko kanimo mga bahandi, Maklium sa Tubig. Nagapasalamat ang imohang magtotoo sa imong pagluwas sa akong katawhan.”
I offer you riches, God of the Sea. This believer thanks you for saving their people, you had told him.
Namor stared at your offering a while longer than he had expected. No surface dweller had ever given him something so ornate before. Yet as he watched the warrior who bested five men twice your size, bowing before him in obedience and utmost reverence, he could not help but accept the accessory from your hands.
A shock passed the both of you as his fingers grazed your open palm, and before you could look up to say thank you once more to the god that had saved you, not even a trace of his footsteps on the wetted sand remained.
On the nights that followed, what turned into a meeting of god and follower turned into that of a friend’s idle meet-ups. And from friends blossomed the springtime call of love that beckoned the young warriors into a dance of ardor.
Every seven days, you meet once again and give each other jewels, pearls, and riches that no man could fathom to give. Yet these gifts turned into physical touch, and soon enough, a kiss was all you needed to satisfy each other’s needs.
He called himself K’uk’ulkan. Although he would have given you the name Namor for you to call him by, he did not want you to utter the loveless name given to him by the same colonizers who terrorized your ancestral lands.
You were hesitant to give your love to the Maklium sa Tubig. What mortal would dare step into the loving embrace of a being more divine than they? Yet he made sure to tell you, despite the language that seemed to create a line of misunderstanding between you, that he was no god; at least, not the god of your people. He made sure to be patient with you.
You were like a shy hatchling who cowered at the mere sight of him whenever he emerged from the waters to visit you. But you eventually gave in to the feathered touches of his fingers, the tranquil affection he had showered with every lingering caress of your cheek, and soon enough, you had been caught in the spell that you could not free yourself from.
And even if you did, you will not willingly submit to the freedom of knowing that you cannot be with your god. Your lover. You will willingly fall into the grasps of his ardent endearments even if it meant you were to fall for a divine being.
With every touch, with every kiss, with every breath that you shared with the feathered serpent god, Namor, no, K'uk'ulkan, felt less and less like the cursed loveless child the fiendish colonizers had branded him to be.
In your arms, he felt loved. Puno sa gugma, as you would have told him in your language. Full of love.
He never thought he would ever receive the love of another being, much less someone from the surface world. He bore nothing but hatred for them.
But you, the warrior who loves their people as much as they love their land, a ruler whose clansmen followed your beck and call, a creature who dances amongst the winds of the high tide without the aid of drums nor stringed instruments out of pure adoration to nature's songs has claimed his heart, body and soul.
You were his as he was yours.
And the heart he had thought bore no love overflowed. It spilled like the roaring surge of the waterfalls of your tribal grounds. A sacred place of worship just behind the rocks of the curtains of clear water; to praise your body in its glorious state of highest exultation, to taste the holy nectar of your jeweled flower.
A gift you had given to him, you had told the god, for the pleasures of the union of two souls was the greatest feeling of all. There he had reached the point of euphoric bliss. There he had reached the peak of the love that he had to give, engraved deeply into the deepest parts of your body and soul.
He was now a man blessed with love.
And now you lay in his arms, his lips worshiping every bit of skin he could land upon.
“I…not meet. With you,” you played with the golden bracelets you had given your lover one night, your speech stuttering in the language you know not the name of. You tried desperately to learn his tongue, and he had soaked up your own language with every fateful meeting as well.
You buried your toes on the wet sand and leaned your head on his jeweled chest, his arms wrapping securely around you with your figure between his legs, “war coming. Cannot meet.”
K'uk'ulkan breathed in your scent—a mixture of hibiscus and jasmine that adorned the crown of your head as well as the faint whiffs of ripened mangoes and coconuts, something unique to you and only you—and buried his head on the dip of your shoulders.
“Stay.” One word was all he needed to communicate what he wanted in his mother tongue. You understood immediately. Despite that, you shook your head.
“Cannot stay. My people need me…”
“In yakunaj,” my love, he whispered your name in a breathless whisper. He pressed his lips to your neck, the jade from his ears tickling your cheeks.
Your golden dangles clinked with the melody of your homeland and with it intermingled the score of its rulers’ hymns, “stay with me. Come to my kingdom. I will make you my queen.”
“Intruders kill. Home needs to be free,” you turned your head to meet the eyes of your god, of your king, and spoke in broken phrases of his tongue, “cannot abandon them. We need to be free. Our mother cries, our land weeps. Tribe ready for war. I cannot go.”
“Then let me help you,” he raises your hand to his lips, your palms burning with a pleasant tingle of his mouth on your calluses.
He then trails himself to the jade ring on your finger—a gift he had so graciously given you on your third moment of meeting—and lingers a kiss to it softly, "let me help you defeat your enemies. And after that, you will become my queen. Tugoti ako sa pagtabang kanimo sa pagsunog sa mga manunulong sa imong yuta."
Let me help you burn the intruders of your land.
It was unfair, you thought. How can he be so fluent with your language already? You could only make out broken phrases in his mother tongue, but he speaks your language as if it is his own.
You pouted.
That made your lover chuckle in amusement.
And so K'uk'ulkan, with the promise of aid to your people, brought forth a small group of his strongest warriors to the waters of the orient south. He himself was equipped with his own weapon decorated with jade, gold, and pearls from the gifts that you have offered him from your island.
He brandished it high and proud as he swam through the currents in time for his promised day of rendezvous; just seven days after you had met him last.
His people were initially against it. Providing aid to an unknown tribe of surface dwellers? It was hardly an option to be considered by the Talokanil. But as soon as he had explained your people's anguish, a suffering so similar to theirs that it brought forth tears to the eyes of the elderly who remembered the days they had to flee from their motherland, the young civilization (hardly even a nation) of the deep seas had given their blessings.
Seven days of preparation. Seven days of wait. Seven days is all he needed to come back to your arms and make you his queen. Their Chilam, the priest in charge of procuring remedies and healing salves, with the guidance and blessings of the Aj k’in, the head priest of their young nation of Talokan, had made him another tonic; a blue medicine to ensure that you would become his queen after the war.
Yet seven days proved far too late.
He and his warriors arrived at dusk, the beach decorated with the most lavish of fauna. Torches burned with the carvings of the depictions of wheat and sea, the huts lavished with intricately woven rattan.
A celebration, perhaps, that the lands were garnered as such. Yet there held no joy in the midst of the fire and of the warriors who lay lifeless on the ground, the sand drinking the blood spilled unto their grasps.
He could only describe it as a bloodbath. A one-sided battle that far outnumbered the rebellious efforts of your tribe. He and his people witnessed the Spanish conquistadors bare their guns at the children and the elderly, going as far as to drag the women by their woven hairs and into their boats that docked unceremoniously by the bay.
K'uk'ulkan felt his people seethe. He could not blame them; it was as if they were replaying the scene their mothers and their fathers had witnessed when they themselves were driven away from their own homeland.
K'uk'ulkan's blood boiled when he saw some of your sister tribes fighting alongside their own invaders. Instead of the noble swords and decorated spears in their hands, they held guns to shoot their own kin.
They had betrayed you.
K'uk'ulkan made sure to kill off the traitors that dared oppose your authority.
Yet he did not care for those who have died in war. His only purpose was you.
And the you that he so loved, the warrior he promised the world of both sea and land, lay lifeless at the beach with a spear on your chest—the same weapon your people had meticulously created for their most noble of warriors—and proudly by the head of an altar was a man with the same clothes as you. Your kin, perhaps. But it did not matter.
Your own people had betrayed you for the intruders that poisoned your home.
It was a haze, really. His own wrath had covered his vision in red. He remembered ordering his men to sink the ships that contained vile vermin whilst he flew at great speeds to kill every single man, woman, and colonizer that dared to cross his vision. It mattered not if they were foe or ally.
His queen is dead.
You were so beautiful in his arms. Despite the blood that dripped down your wounds, despite the crimson droplets that splattered across your golden jewelry and your ceremonial clothes, you were still a spectacle in his eyes.
Your beauty radiates with the fire that roared behind him, your voice echoing through his mind in the midst of dying gasps around you. The sea that sloshed beneath his hip had been dyed in an eerie scarlet, and by the time the tide had rescinded, your motherland fell into a grievous hush.
She did not sing the hymns of nature like it had done a thousand times before, yet she stays in silent mourning for her children's blood that spilled on her beaches.
He knew not of the mourning customs of your people, so he honored you in the ways of his.
K'uk'ulkan and his people placed you to rest at the edge of your ancestral lands by the soil that divided the forests and the sea, offered maize and jades to your mouth, and buried you deep into the heart of your motherland. The tonic he planned to give you was placed firmly on your hands. Maybe, in another world where you have lived through the hardships of war, would you have drunk its contents and become the queen of his growing nation.
He did not cry, at least, not in front of his people.
And it was that night when K'uk'ulkan realized that he could never be loved. That the curses of the colonizers rang true to his very being.
Niño sin amor.
Under the witness of the full moon did he cry out in anguish, his wails drowned by the roaring sea. And that night he had reclaimed his second name once again.
Namor. A cursed child without love.
Baclayon, Bohol, Philippines, 1758
It had been years since the death of Namor’s supposed-queen. By that time he had realized that he was unlike the others in Talokan. He had outlived the people who had raised him, outlived the advisers that had shown him both the hand of mercy and the fist of iron to rule, and he outlived the warriors who had grown with him through the throes of their blooming nation.
He had outlived those who have witnessed the sins of the colonizers—he was the only testament to the will of Talokan’s forefathers.
He was no ordinary man, that much was true since the day he had first claimed his birthright. It didn't surprise him that he would live past the dates of a hundred.
By this time he had studied the minerals that were rich in their nation's floors. It held a power so strong that it could brighten the depths of the deep sea. With that knowledge he had begun to formulate the plans he held dear—to bring forth the sun to his people deprived of the land they had once roamed.
It felt incredibly bare by his side once his subjects cheered for the underwater sun that he had successfully curated. His heart felt full with praises from his people, yet there lay a void that would never be filled; for he had given half of his soul to a land-dwelling warrior of the orient south.
There lay no queen to the empty throne by his side.
The strings of what was left of his heart tugged at the direction of the Pacific isles, just like any other day of the years that had gone by. Yet this tug turned into that of a forceful pull. A yearning, perhaps, that dug deep into his very core that it became as painful as the decorated spears from the warriors of the deep sea.
And so the feathered serpent god surfaced once more and flew across the seas until his skin felt the kiss of the tropical sun.
He still remembered the life that greeted him a century ago. It was full of grandeur and treasures unknown, yet should be left untouched by the hands of the non-dwellers of the sea.
What he saw was nothing like the memories of the past.
Boats and armored ships docked the bays of what was once your home, the home of the sea-life turning as dull as the rusted anchors that replaced the dying anemone. There were a slew of people all ranging from the colors of their skin to the tongue that they speak.
The sand was now replaced with stones and bricks and concrete, the trees turned to infrastructures for trade. There is a clear hierarchy amongst the surface dwellers—the supreme men of education from the colonizers that plagues your lands, the natives with the same likeness as you, the one that he so held dear, and pale skinned workers with narrow eyes that spoke a language he has not recognized.
Those of low birth (Namor had to clench his teeth at the mere implication of the noble tribes of your people to be of common backgrounds) were chained and whipped and scorned like they were the plagues to this land. The colonizers bore crosses of prayer, offered the Word of their doctrines as a show of mercy, yet they treated your people as if they were the scum and the friars the messiah.
He had to resist the urge to fly into another fit of rage. He cannot compromise himself nor his people.
The pull from his heart led him away from the busy port town of merchants and slaves, around a few more islands into the motherland, and into a secluded beach with a grand manor by the plot of land further inland. The dusk provided a hush so similar to the one he had heard centuries ago—the lullabies of your motherland almost lulling Namor to sleep. Yet he persisted in his search, flying in closer to the manor with very spare lamps to its sides.
By now the sun had almost kissed the sea its goodbyes, and his eyes strained to see the faint silhouettes from the balcony of the hacienda.
In the years that he has lived without you by his side, his broken heart suddenly skipped with the feeling that he claimed to have lost in his century-long mourning.
You were as beautiful as the day that he had lost you; the same sparkle of your unwavering gaze that held nothing but the wit of a datu, the sheen of your golden skin flickering with the lamp by your side, the stature of a figurehead that leads with fervor into battle.
The same face, the same mannerisms, the same scrunch of your brow when you had to plunge into a circle of deep thought. It was you.
Yet you were not dressed as the warrior Namor had known you to be. You were dainty. Fragile. Instead of a rose with jagged thorns, you were a jasmine in the high afternoon. Defenseless. Smaller than the world. You bear not the golden jewels upon your skin, nor the scars nor ink of your ancestral heritage.
You were a woman of class, of poise. A princess whose hands have not held the spears of rebellion nor the blood of the enemy. You wore a dress that was far too regal; you could not as much as run into the battles you had once waged for your land.
Despite this, Namor knew. He knows in his heart—his very soul—that it was you.
And how that excited him so.
He was too far to hear the musings of your lips as another woman—this time with far less poise, drab clothes, narrow eyes that shifted down in respect, and the palest of pallor—approached you in high regard. She spoke to you as if you were her master, yet you replied with a kindness that made the sangley at ease in your presence.
You moved with the grace of nobility, shied away from the breeze of the sea with the same sway of the tropical trees, and you uplifted the sangley, one of low birth in comparison to your standing, like she was one of your own; without fault nor the judgment of race, without the grimace nor stare of a boorish colonizer.
A queen. That was what you are. A leader fit to rule by his side and claim the empty throne on his right hand.
He wanted to go and fly up the balconies of your manor, claim the lips that he had once lost in war, and bring you back to his home and let you reclaim the right that had been yours since the beginning of his reign as king. Yet he waited for the perfect time to face you. He watched your newfound life, marveled at the way you had changed so much yet so little at the same time.
Namor seethed when he saw men of Spanish class strolling across the beach, their arrogance seeping out in waves that even the god could feel from his distance from the shores. They called out to you in the tongue that he had hated, presenting you with a rose from below, and the other men accompanied such gestures with songs of courting.
He would have killed those men who dared lay their eyes upon his beloved, but you simply scoffed at them from the balcony. You unfurled your fan with a snap, diverted your eyes away from your suitors, and slowly fanned the silken abanico by your chest.
You fiddled with the golden tassel that hung low from the native wood, your whole countenance uninterested with the advances of the noble insulares—Philippine born Spaniards. The sangley at your side giggled in amusement and the men down below had dejectedly left you to your own devices with their head hung low and their pride crushed.
Whatever you had done with your fan had left them heartbroken. Namor found joy at the fact that there did not exist another man who could ever claim your soul as he had done in the past.
As the days passed, Namor had viewed you from afar. He watched as you mingled with more noble ladies your age, sewn beautiful articles of cloth as a gift to your father—a governor general, he assumed—and lived the life of a princess. You were not the warrior he came to know you to be, but his love still overflowed with a new passion. You wore the same smile, bore the same laugh, and you still possess the same air of dignity that led the charge in pursuit of your beliefs.
You had snapped your fan open and fanned yourself slowly to the countless other men who tried to court you from down your balcony; you must be the most precious flower in this land. And rightfully so.
He wondered how a woman as strong as you would be sheltered as much as you are now. You had the makings of a leader, but the men of higher titles bore those roles despite being ill-fitted.
One particularly peaceful dusk, as he watched you talk with the sangley, you had finally gone out from your manor to bask in the freshness of your motherland’s air. You glided down the beach while gripping the ends of the sheer fabric of your pañuelo, dragged the wide train of your elaborate saya, and relished the salty breeze that came from the sea. Your hair, which was always tied in a complicated updo, has now unraveled.
You were so beautiful in Namor’s eyes, even this version of you that was decorated with the most intricate of fragile cloth and the innocence of a maiden of class.
Namor could not take this silent wonder to himself any longer. He needed to see you. He needed to touch you. He needed to hear you.
He needed you.
His heartbeat pounded against his pointed ears, his hands shaking from excitement, or was it fear? Fear that you might not remember him, fear that you will not come back as the queen that he had hoped you to be.
Yet as he watched you close your eyes in peace, he purged the thought of such fear. You were still the woman that he loved. The person who owns half of his soul. He needed to feel your body in his arms again and shower you with the two hundred year long affection that overflowed in his chest.
And with a final beat to his feathered wings, he emerged from the water in front of you. Just like the first time you met on that fateful beach long ago.
Your eyes were still closed, your breath still at peace. He drew in closer, and closer until she could smell the jasmine that decorated your hair. You were so near, just an arm’s length away. He raised his hand, ready to caress the supple of your cheek that he had so longed to hold since the first time he saw you by the bay—
Then you snapped your eyes open in horror and fell to the ground with a panicked shriek.
Fear. It was painted in your eyes. The same fear that washed over the eyes of his enemies when he pointed a spear to their neck to meet their untimely demise. The same fear he had instilled to the people who had wronged him and cursed him as a deadly foe.
The same fear he never wished to see in your own eyes—the eyes that once held so much love for him.
“In reina—” my queen, he started. But you still shook with great fear and apprehension.
“¡Demonio!”
Namor’s blood froze as you uttered the tongue that he loathed so much. It coursed through with a hot rage like an inferno, the shock of disbelief, and with it came the despair that he felt through his veins. The warrior who had fought for their motherland was tainted by the same people that had ravished your culture, tore down your ancestral homes, and assaulted your own people in the guise of religious crusade.
His heart lurched again, but this time it was from the pain. To see his beloved hold so much fear for him, for you to clutch the cross that adorned your neck in the prayer he found so vile that made him want to lash out in his own disgust.
What words have you uttered to curse him whilst you praised your Christian god, what such contempt do you hold for him, he wondered, for you to ask the holy mother to cast him out like the demon of the depths of hell that he was supposed to be?
The mouth you had used to praise him, the one you used to kiss him and call your god of the sea, now spoke nothing but the language of filthy invaders that he hated the most.
You had forgotten him. It hurt to accept the fact that all of the love that he had given you in the century that he had mourned had been forgotten and replaced with disgust of his being. Yet he did not blame you, he only blamed the enemies that have tainted your soul with dark hatred.
“¡No eres bienvenido en esta tierra, demonio! ¡Te expulso en el nombre de mi dios!” You are not welcome in this land, demon! I cast you out in the name of my god! You declared.
You dared not ask for help, but instead you fought him off with that foul tongue.
You were still a fighter despite being treated as royalty, and it hurts so much to know that he cannot praise your spirit when you were tainted by the influence of the vile conquistadors.
This was too much. Namor could only bear so much.
And before the guardia civil could even see a glimpse of him after they had heard the cries of their young mistress, he had fled into the sea and never returned.
That night, the ocean sang the songs of cruel anguish; for its king mourned the loss of his queen to the hands of colonizers once again.
A loveless child. That was what he was. The cursed man whose half his soul died along with his beloved.
Niño sin amor.
A year after he had fled from your sight, he came back to watch you again. Despite the pain, he had to see you one last time.
Yet he was met with a line of mourners holding a cross to their lips as they prayed their ninth day of rosary in front of a coffin by the sea.
He did not stay to find out whose wake it was, but by the sobbing form of the sangley that you always loved to dote, the ladies that you had shared a pleasant time with embroidered kerchiefs, and the weeping governor general by the head of the procession and the lead to the rosary,
Namor knew he will never see the smile of his beloved ever again.
Manila, Philippines, Summer of 1896
There were rumors of an entity that gifted their favorite followers golds and jaden necklaces, pearls and diamond rings, riches that no indio could ever imagine getting their hands on in the presence of the guardia civil and the watchful eye of the Catholic church.
There spared no mercy to the rightful owners of the land once owned by the slaves that toiled the lands by the whips of their Spanish masters; each morsel of coin and bread carefully rationed three days worth of portions for a week worth of labor.
But the rumors of the generous being were drowned by the whispers of revolution, hushed meetings of a triage at the wee hours of the night, and there lay plans—real strategies, not the old tale of riches from a benevolent god of luxury—of the fight for the land that was stolen from them by the Spanish.
“Hermanos, hermanas, batid kayo hinggil sa nabigong stratehiya ng mga illustrados na naghahangad ng kapayapaan sa pamamaraan ng publikasyon at pluma. La liga filipina ha demostrado ser inútil.” Brothers, sisters, I’m sure you are all aware of the failed peace strategies of the illustrados. La Liga Filipina has proven to be useless.
You listened attentively whilst dressing the wounds of a young katipunero, the gashes that came from the swords of the guardia civil seeping blood into the fresh bandages.
You frowned as the young man hissed, but he kept it in well to let your leading general continue with his speech. It was a formality at this point—to start the secret meetings at midnight with a speech after the revolutionaries separated from La Liga Filipina—it was to ensure the new members of the triage were made aware of their roles in the armed revolution.
La Liga Filipina was not completely useless, you had thought to yourself helplessly. You wanted to end this war with peace. You wanted the written articles of the educated men of class to be heard through the high societies of the Spanish regime. All you wanted was freedom without the cost of bloodshed of your fellow men.
You would have stayed with the league if it weren’t for your lack of education. As a daughter of a fisherman, you did not have the time nor the resources to attend the catholic schools that were built for your purpose.
And even if you did learn how to properly articulate your revolutionary propaganda, you knew higher society would frown upon the texts that were written by mere women, much more when you were of a low birth.
The general of the revolutionary movement called out on you, his wife perking up at the mention of your name. You straightened up and patted the poor injured boy by your side. He was still a whimpering mess despite the amount of medicine and rolls of gauze you had used on his injured arm.
“Po?” What? You asked whilst you wiped your hands clean of blood. Your general merely quirked a brow and cleared his throat.
“Muntikan nang mahuli ang ating bise noong nakaraang hatinggabi,” Our vice president was almost caught last midnight, he told you in brief. You shot a glance to the woman by his side—his wife, the vice president of the Revolutionary’s Women’s Chapter—and frowned.
The guardia civil have proven to be drawing closer and closer to your base of operations, and if anyone would have discovered the plans of the custodian, it would be the end of the freemasonry, “nangangailangan kami ng pagtustos mula sa ating kapwa rebolusyonaryo sa pagtago ng ating mga armas.” We need the assistance of our sister revolutionaries with hiding our weapons, he continued.
“Oye, ano ang kinalaman nito sa akin? Isa lang akong manggagamot sa himagsikan.” What does this have to do with me? I am merely a medic in the revolution.
“At isa ka ring babae,” and you are a woman, he told you pointedly. You shot him a look of disdain, his wife shooting him a similar squinted stare. All the other women in attendance at the secret meeting frowned and held their chins up higher, the others who were tending to their weapons pausing in their tasks. There were few women who would willingly join the revolution, but they did not fall short on their responsibilities. They could do their job equal to, even better than, a man. Noticing his mistake, the general cleared his throat and raised his hand in surrender to show no ill-will.
“Lo siento, binibini, mali ang aking pagkasabi,” I apologize, young lady. I phrased myself poorly, he pulled out a map from a hidden compartment from his desk and laid it out on the adjoined tables for everyone to see.
He pointed to a spot near the ports of Manila, trailing his fingers across lands that did not bear any paths, and signaled his chin forward for you to see, “bilang isang babae, mas mababawasan ang paghihinala ng mga guardia sibil kapag sila’y nagsisiyasat ng iyong karwahe. Walang maghihinala na ang isang babae’y sumali sa mga rebolusyonaryo.” As a woman, The civil guards would not raise any suspicions whilst inspecting your carriage. They would hardly suspect a woman to be a member of the revolution.
“Ano ang nais mong gawin ko, heneral?” What do you wish me to do, general?
He pursed his lips and gestured to the hidden doors of the basement where all the weapons lay hidden, “Isang kinsena. Kikilos ka sa loob ng isang kinsena upang ilipat ang ating mga armas. Inuutos din kitang magbigay ng tulong medikal sa ating kapwa katipunero sa baybaying dagat.” A fortnight. You must move out within a fortnight to relocate our weapons. I am instructing you to give medical aid to our fellow revolutionaries by the bay as well.
You nodded at your new instructions, burning everything to memory as the general forged new plans to inconspicuously sneak you past the civil guards that manned and roamed the port bay. You were prepared for the responsibility that awaited you, but at the same time, there was a pull to your gut that something life-changing will happen during your journey.
That feeling persisted until you sneaked past out of the backdoors of the meeting room and into your own quaint little home downtown.
You chalked it up to nerves.
The plan was successful; the idea was to disguise yourself as a peninsulares’ fiancé and meet your lover at the bay (a plan carefully executed in cahoots with your fellow revolutionaries that were affiliated with the La Liga Filipina).
No one will suspect a woman like yourself to carry guns and blades in the guise of gifts to your wealthy groom-to-be. And a little bit of a scene from your brothers of the revolution near the entrance of the port town, you passed by quickly from the inspection gates, bid the guards a blessed day, and made your way towards the hacienda that was lent to you by your wealthier brothers of the league.
And by god was it beautiful.
It sat near the ports just a shy away from the main docking bays of trade. Yet it gave you a fair distance to be considered private that no man would dare see past the foliage of the trees that surrounded the courtyard facing the sea. You breathed in the scents of the ocean—a scent that you missed dearly—and helped your coachman (and fellow revolutionary) unload your ‘gifts’ for your ‘fiancé.’
After the luggage has been stored, and the weapons hidden under the floorboards and basements of your new casa, you take the time to stroll across the beaches of your new home. It was quiet, save for the port side bells that signaled the dusk from across the distant shores, and stood quietly by the edge of the water.
You chose this time to relish the momentary peace that you were privileged enough to bask in. Your brothers and sisters were out to war, yet you remain here awaiting the orders of your general. You were an integral part of the revolution and you knew that very well. But you would rather ride into battle in armed cavalry against the colonizers that terrorized your people.
By your side, you hear splashes of water and the quelch of wet sand. You snapped your eyes to the direction of the noise, your arms immediately grabbing the blade hidden under your saya on instinct. You were not afraid of any man nor friar who would prey on helpless women, yet you will not take any chances.
You blinked in confusion when you were met with nothing by the beach. Must it have been your imagination? Surely not—you were accustomed to the sound of silent footsteps when you had fought the battles of night, trained your ears to the slightest of shifts in preparation for a silent war.
You must be out of practice after a fortnight of etiquette training for your new high-class persona.
A glimmer caught your eye just buried beneath the wet sand. The waves unearthed a golden necklace of sorts with intricate designs depicting the sea. You blinked in confusion as you sheath your blade and picked up the jewelry in question. A jade fit snugly into the slot of the golden amulet, and there were small pearls lined with the golden threads.
You have heard of rumors of a god that gave gold and jade riches to those that they had pleased. It was the legends passed by the tongue of your hometown in the south; when your ancestors worshiped the god of the sea and bore gifts in exchange.
You wondered if this was mere coincidence—there was a possibility that such an accessory was dropped by one of the noble ships that carried riches and was swept by the tide and showed up at your feet.
Nevertheless, you used the cloth of your saya to wipe away the water and the sand from the beautiful piece, held it to the light to admire the masterful craftsmanship, and held it close to your heart.
Somehow, despite your desire to send it to your family to provide monetary aid for your brothers and sisters, you wanted to keep it close to you and never let it go.
And from just behind the rocks of the bay, it was enough for Namor to see you keep his gift with a smile; the smile he thought he would never see again.
But you were right there. Right there. Fate had given him a chance to marvel at your magnificence once again. His heart fluttered with the desire to take you as his queen, and the love he thought that died a second time flourished and overflowed.
Only this time, he was going to admire you from afar. That much was enough for him. It was not your fault that the colonizers had influenced your people so much that you had casted him away more than a century ago.
But he cannot bear his beloved utter the tongue of vile vermin. It was a reminder of his weakness; that he could not save you at your first cycle of life.
And so he watched you like he did in your second life, only this time he did not do anything to satiate the itch of his longing in fear of your rejection;
for the mighty god would lose his way if he were to lose the light that he held so dearly in the heart that cried out for your loving embrace.
You were sure you were going crazy. Believing myths and stories that were used to keep troublesome children in bed? Hardly a thing that you would even consider in your years of life.
Yet you had to wonder; what in the world have you done to appease the god of the sea to deliver so much wealth at your doorstep? It had been a month since your reinstatement to the port city.
You worked as a spy of sorts, collecting whispers and hushed rumors of anything related to the revolution. The wind speaks of a rebellion just across the horizon. It was high time for war—your general had written to you in a passage of a poem about the red roses in the last drops of summer. A code, you gathered, of the real battle that is to begin in a month.
You always worried what it meant for your people, and that worry would bloom into an unsettled anxiety. You always walked through the beaches for fresh air when you were deep in thought, and lo and behold, another gift would appear right at your feet, hidden by the wet sand of the sea. It has been a month of golds and jades and naturally intricate conch shells.
It would have scared you to meddle with the affairs of such divine entities, but you found yourself comforted by whatever being or coincidence that would offer you such gifts.
The riches that were handed to you by a silver platter had been most helpful with the revolution. You had stocked the shelves high with medicine for war, bought books from the higher ends of the Spanish markets (even though it will take some time for you to decipher the written text with your lack of education), and supplied monetary aid to your general’s ranks to buy you more gunpowder for the oncoming war.
You had also bought yourself crates upon crates of arms to be shipped off in the high time of trade; this will give your brethren of the rebellion more chances to fight for themselves. It will be needed the most, especially when the Spanish would outnumber you by a hundred thousand.
As you studied the new gift bestowed upon you—a sheer patterned cloth bundling a few golden coins—your heart swelled with an unknown warmth. The thoughts of war dissipated from your head, and what was left of the impending sorrow of the revolution was the love of fate that somehow swept itself on the tide of your beaches.
“Ano ba ang namalas ng iyong binditadong mga mata upang matamo ng isang Sugbuanong kagaya ko ang iyong pagunlak, Maklium sa Tubig?” What do your divine eyes see to have garnered such favor from a poor Cebuano such as I, God of the Sea?
Everything, Namor replied to your question in his mind. He clutched the pouch of golds and jades to his heart as it yearned for your touch. Although he was still not accustomed to the new language that you had spoken, he still understood the implications of your question directed to him, even though you did not know your words were heard by the feathered serpent god.
You did not even have to try to garner his favor. He will still love you all the same. He did not need divine judgment nor the aid of a heavenly council, he loved every single part of you just the same. He loved every single version of you; past, present, and future.
On the days that have passed you have gotten even busier. Reconnaissance, medical aid, even the task of a revolutionary herald had been passed on to you. You knocked on doors and brought news of war, spread rumors—both truth and hearsays—to confuse those who eavesdropped by the alleys.
No Spanish soldier would ever think a woman of all people would spread the mumbles of revolution. Yet here you were, hidden right under their noses as you had expanded the triage of the port bay. More and more young men and women joined the secret meetings every midnight, and there are more to come in the following weeks.
This new responsibility weighed heavily on your shoulders. You were not the leader your general thought you would be, nor are you the dependable mother of revolution Ka Oriang had inspired you to be.
You were just a woman of low birth whose voice was drowned by the men with pride and far more tactical brilliance than you. You were a medic, not a warrior. A woman who had no right to be at the head of the strategist table.
Namor watched from afar as you became the leader of such a great rebellion. It was an admirable feat, one that Namor would have done if it weren’t for his priorities to keep his people hidden. Yet he frowned at your desolate disposition from the rocks he had settled in. You were unsure. Scared. Fearful of the future of the duty you had taken initiative in.
And just like any other day, when you lay on the sand just shy away from the water, he would send forth the sea to deliver his gifts. He would watch as you would pick it up from the sand and shine the last light of dusk towards the string of pearls and gold.
You would smile ever so softly to yourself, the smile that had made his immortal heart lurch from his chest in great affection. How he longed to be the one to deliver his gifts to your own hands, kiss the lips that would praise his name, and caress the cheeks of your golden skin like it was the most precious treasure of all; one that his own riches paled in comparison to.
“Gracias, Maklium sa Tubig,” thank you, God of the Sea, you had addressed to the waters before you with a humorous chuckle.
Namor’s heart shook once again, “tila’y nagsisimula na akong manilawa na ika’y isang totoong nilalang at hindi isang kathang-isip lamang.” I think I’m starting to believe that you are a real being and not just a figment of my imagination.
But I am real, Namor resisted the urge to fly out from his hiding and declare to the world his existence for you. He wasn’t a figment of your imagination.
The love he bears for you is real and true. There lay no lie to his affections nor there lay no contempt. He wanted to tell you, make you believe that he was real, and that you meant so much to him in this timeline and the next.
With a heavy heart and a soul who stretched out to the land in which you lay, he fingered the vial of the vibranium infused tonic and dove into the depths of the sea.
Maybe someday he can give you the elixir that would give you life amongst his people, but for now, he had to lay his heart to rest from the pain that came from his yearning.
He would never have expected what nightmare you had to face in his absence.
You had called out to him, your God of the Sea, for the war you had thought you would have won was so close to its defeat. The Spanish had discovered you, uncovered your midnight gatherings, confiscated the arms that were left for the last day’s shipment.
You were successful in delivering the weapons to another safehouse, closer to the base of the inner city. Yet you had foolishly bought too many with the riches that came from your newfound wealth from the benevolent god of your ancestors.
No one would suspect a woman to be in the revolution. No woman was to fight in the place of a man. But you had garnered too much suspicion—a fake name of a noblewoman buying arms in the guise of hunting gear for their fiance—yet no woman would buy so much. No woman would buy arms that were made to shoot the lives of men, not pheasants nor game.
You called out to him during the night, when the Spanish had burned down your home with your procured medicines that were bought from the gifts of your god. You called out a name foreign to the friars present, and they had labeled you a woman of native witchcraft.
They spat at you like you were a demon from the depths of hell, beat you with whips that were blessed with holy water. You did not give them the satisfaction of your cries, but you did receive more of their ire when you screamed out to your god of the sea in your mother tongue.
You called out to him on the dusk that had come, your arms and legs tied with your camisa stained with your own blood. It stung like the pinpricks of hot needles, and the holy water that was thrown at your back served to make it even more painful.
You wondered if you were really a demon, as they had called you, when the blessed water burned your wounds.
They had hauled more men down to the beach and let them kneel in front of the ocean; a witness to your inevitable death, perhaps, that they so shamelessly presented the sea with the blood of the natives of the land that they had stolen. You were glad that most of the younger men under your wing had escaped, and what was left of the battered revolutionaries were those who had fought gallantly at your side.
You would assume that the message of your capture would have spread throughout the ranks, and you feared that the general would have to move the plans more quickly upon your discovery.
The guards tied blindfolds upon your eyes. The sea’s rage intensified in your ears, furious. You felt the wind pick up and the sound of multiple guns drawn a few meters behind you. You cursed yourself and this mess. You heard your brothers curse alongside you as well.
It was your fault, you had told yourself. Your fault that the rebellion had been discovered. Your fault that the war started when you were underprepared. Your fault that the general had to pay the price of your negligence. Your fault that the blood of your brothers would be shed in panic.
“¡Viva la revolucion!” Long live the revolution! You heard one of your brothers cry out. You held the urge to smile; for even in the face of the death penalty were they loyal to the cause.
Bang! The sound of a rifle. The sound of a body that fell lifelessly to the ground.
And that was one brother down.
“¡Viva la revolucion!” The sound of guns being switched around, the metal of the trigger being drawn.
Bang!
“¡Viva la revolucion! Mabuhay Pilipinas! Kalayaan para sa bayan!” Long live the revolution! Long live the Philippines! Freedom for our nation!
Bang!
Prayers were chanted amongst the friars of the sinful church, their doctrines washed away with the tide that had now touched your knees. It stung your open wounds as you let out a hiss, but you bare mind to it. You felt more blessed water being thrown at your whipped back and the beads of the rosary wrapped firmly around your neck.
“¡Viva la revolucion!” You cried out, your throat raw from the intensity of your cries.
And mere seconds from your inevitable death, just as the final draw of guns could be heard from behind you and the collective click of the metal from the triggers, you prayed.
Prayed for the God of the Sea to come save you.
Prayed for His salvation, for Him to deliver you to everlasting life as He had delivered your ancestors and gave them riches of gold and jade.
Prayed for the sea to curse the colonizers who had enslaved the people of your motherland.
And then your God of the Sea came. Your Maklium sa Tublig.
Namor had jumped in a blind rage, his cries for war now carrying all the hate of the world with a swing of his spear. He had just arrived to bear you new gifts, golden earrings that your past self had loved to wear, yet it lay forgotten in the sand as he tore down every single man who stood in attention to the suffering that they had caused.
His blood boiled at the sight of your ruined dress, the stripes of punishment fresh on your back and marking the skin that he so loved so much. He had caught the glimpses of wicked perversion from the blasphemous men of faith, and as soon as he had slayed the enemies that dared point their arms at you, he turned to the Spanish friars with the coldness of a god that besmirched his enemy.
“¡¿Quién eres tú?!” Who are you, one of the three friars asked, his legs betraying him as he fell on the sand. The others followed suit, too weak in the presence of a being as divine as he.
They shook at the sight of the ears that pointed to the heavens, cried out in shock at the feathered ankles that kept him afloat. He was a demon, they cried out in their tongue. But your digress. He was your savior; your god.
“My followers call me K’uk’ulkan,” he sneered at the tongue that had cursed him centuries ago, yet he continued to bear the weight of their vile language to deliver his message. His feathered ankles bristled as he hovered by your side; a clear indication of his protection. In the midst of his anger did he let his otherwise dutiful countenance slip from his control.
He could not fathom the rage that he felt. He will make sure that every drop of blood that has dropped from your skin and has yet to be spilled will be paid a hundredfold.
Although you cannot see your god who had answered your prayers, you cried behind the cloth of your blindfold in reverence to his name. Namor pointed his spear at the trembling men, and with a loud voice he had proclaimed—
“...and your people, my enemies, call me Namor.”
The friars had held their crosses in their dying breaths, chanting the name of their Christian god in vain. They casted out the demon of the sea with their very being, yet their god had forsaken them for the sins that they have committed in the name of crusade.
There lay no mercy to the blasphemous fiends of the high courts of the church; for their names shall not be engraved in the book before the gates of their salvation.
And the you who had so diligently called out to your own god for mercy was granted deliverance against the trials that awaited you. The prize you had won for your faith was more than riches and gold.
It was the love of your god—your God of the Sea.
Maklium sa Tubig. Your K’uk’ulkan.
“Stay awake for me, my love,” he spoke in your tongue with panicked breaths.
You hissed and grunted at the stings from your whipped back, but you felt at peace when he cradled you in his arms. He tore your blindfold off of your eyes, and you nearly cried at the sight of him. He was beautiful. Divine. Worthy of such a title of god. “do not dare close your eyes in my presence.”
“You came.” You pathetically rasped. Your lips were dry and chapped. It was almost painful to move your mouth.
“You called,” he carefully took your hand while being mindful of your wounds and kissed the calloused skin of your palms.
You replied in kind, weakly brushing your shaking fingers over his pointed ears. You held no such disgust to his form; only wonder to his majesty.
He leaned into your touch like a man starved of affection, and you wondered how blessed you were to get such treatment from your god, “how dare I ever ignore your pleas when I have given half my heart and soul to you?”
“I am hardly worthy—” you coughed out from the dryness of your throat, the sudden action shooting more pain up your body. Namor held you closer to him gently. In the arms of your god, you felt free, “I c-cannot possibly be worth half your heart and soul.”
“But you are. You are worth more than any riches, more worth than the blessings of the sea could give,” he connected his forehead to yours and submitted into your presence.
You were blinding, a sight for his immortal eyes, “you need to rest, my love. You are now safe.”
“It is too late for me.” You rasped. He shook his head in denial.
“You are not to die today. Your king forbids it.”
Your eyes fluttered shut despite the order of your god. You smiled in content at the feeling of the sea beneath your hips, the tide slowly bidding its final strokes of goodbye.
Namor’s eyes widened and his heart lurched painfully from his chest. He needed to do something, anything!
Then he remembered the tonic that he had saved to make you a part of his people. Surely the tonic would help remedy your wounds in some way, he thought in clouded desperation.
It had cured his ancestors from the diseases brought by the conquistadors, after all. He pulled out the tonic from the pouch of gold and jade he used to store his gifts for you, popped open the cork of the precious liquid, and directed the vial towards your lips.
His hands shook in great panic, the contents spilling from your mouth and down your chin, as if you were rejecting the life that he so desperately wanted you to consume. In his haste, he dropped the vial into the water.
He was quick to save it, but half of its contents spilled and saltwater had mixed with the concoction. Yet he did not mind. Just a sip was enough. Anything to save you.
“Drink, I beg of you. Drink.”
Yet you held no response.
And with a final desperate move to revive you, he put the vial to his own lips, gathered the medicine into his mouth, and kissed you.
The kiss from a god is one that should be revered as the highest form of praise. Yet you could not think of anything but the surge of power that coursed through your body.
It was as painful as it was comforting—it felt like your blood had flowed backwards, your lungs expanding and filling with water, yet there was a gentle wave that came with it, suspending you into a sensation of tranquility in the arms of the deep ocean.
You snapped your eyes wide open, your chest heaving with great gusto and inhaling as much of the air that sustained your lungs greedily. The sea, as if feeling the presence of its new ruler, shook and roared around you and your savior, ropes of seawater surrounding you in a show of your newfound authority.
Namor gaped at the sight—it was a power as beautiful and as powerful as you. It was befitting your own character, for you are as gentle as the waves of the ocean yet as harsh and as tumultuous as the stormy seas. Your heart lay deeper into the depths of ardor and the care for your nation.
You have proven time and time again that you were fitting to be his queen.
The pain from your wounds have gone, yet you still feel a lingering numbness from the effects of the medicine. Your eyes shifted to meet the magnificent earthen oak of the eyes of your savior whose tears overflowed at the sight of your breaths of life.
You smiled albeit weakly and wiped the crystalline drops of his joys and sorrows with your trembling fingers.
“Why do you cry, Maklium sa Tubig?”
He did not speak nor did he dare attempt to. He released a humorless laugh, one of great relief, as he tried his best to hide his tears from your eyes. But you have seen all of him; the raw and pure version of him that you have come to love despite your lowly mortal self.
And then with a shaky whimper, he said,
“Call me by my real name. I implore you, my love, for I have waited centuries to hear my name on your lips once again.”
And with a tired smile you replied.
“As you wish, K’uk’ulkan.”
For the first time in centuries, K’uk’ulkan finally felt half of his heart and soul at peace. The queen he had failed to save is now alive in his arms, breathing and healing from their past wounds.
She was as beautiful as the stars that had guided him through the open seas, as graceful as the sway of the forest kelp in the deep ocean floor, and there lay no more danger in their midst—for she was safe in the arms of the god she had begged to come to their aid at their deathbed.
“What is in your mind, K’uk’ulkan?” You asked him ever so silently, your hands trailing across the planes of his face in such delicate strokes that it made his whole body jolt in great adoration.
Three months ago you would have shrunk back and called yourself blasphemous; for there no existed such a mortal who would ever hold a god so comfortably. But now you surrendered to him so well and you have accepted his affections wholeheartedly. You were now free to roam your hands across the planes of his body and burn to memory his very existence.
“Nothing of importance,” he whispered gently, his breath fanning across the exposed skin of your neck.
You would have shied away if these were different circumstances; no woman should have a man even near their chambers when you only sported a sheer chemise and skirt. Yet you purged the thought in your mind.
Your lover was of greater renown. He would do anything within his power to keep you close to him as much as possible, “your wounds have almost healed. It should be about time before you have to go back to the frontlines to fight.”
“I love my people and I love my nation. But I would like to cherish these moments with you, irog ko.” My beloved. Such a sweet endearment from the chimes of your mother tongue.
You turned your body so you would face him, his eyes piercing through the morning sun. The rattan hut in which you’ve spent to hide from your foes was quaint, but it was close to the ocean and away from the nightmares of war.
The people deemed you dead, you had gathered. But your general knew of your whereabouts from the letters that you had sent after the catastrophe by the port bay. You were to rest and provide aid as soon as you were ready, and with the help of newfound powers of controlling the sea and water, you were sure to bring your people to victory.
“Are you certain you do not wish for me to whisk you away?” He asked, his feathered legs tangling with yours under the light covers, “My kingdom waits for their queen to sit on the right hand of my throne.”
“I cannot go with you. Not yet, at least,” you breathed in his scent—the smell of the sun and the oceans—and rested your forehead on his bare chest, the jewels that adorned his neck now lay idly by your bedside, “my people still have to be free from the grasps of their oppressors. My brothers and sisters are bearing arms whilst I lay in comfort. I will join them as soon as I have healed. For my nation. Para sa inang-bayan.” For the motherland.
Namor sighs, but it wasn’t from disappointment. For months he has asked you to return home with him, to hide away into the depths of the ocean and make you the queen of his great nation. But he knew that as much as you would like to learn the ways of his people, you still had to save yours from their own downfall.
It was a feeling Namor understood quite well. If he were to find the kingdom of Talokan in the hands of the enemy, he would also fight until the bitter end. He possessed the spirit of the warrior, and you possess a similar spark to save your motherland.
“I understand,” he feathered kisses over the crown of your head and basked in your presence. You still smelled like the roses and jasmine that adorned your headdress in your first life, “you were just like this in the past. Always thinking of your people, always fighting to protect the ones you hold dear.”
“How are you so sure that the me of the present is the me you have met in the past?”
“Because, in yakunaj,” he trailed his hands down to your back, his hands painting murals of his endearment. There still lie the lines of the whipped scars from the Spanish friars a few months ago, but K’uk’ulkan finds them beautiful.
A sign of your strength, “your soul resonates with mine. It is like a bond that can never be broken. I would pick your soul amongst a million that may ever hinder us, and the love I have for you is as timeless as the sand that settles down the depths of the sea. I will find you no matter what era; no matter what reality. I will still choose you.”
Overwhelmed with the ardent dedication your lover has presented you, you couldn’t help but lean forth to kiss him. He returned with such fervor that it elicited the sweet sounds of your excitement. K’uk’ulkan’s heart soared, and if it were possible, the love he had to give overflowed yet again in a larger tide than he had ever experienced before.
He was careful when he lay your back on the rattan bed, the covers now pooling beneath you and creating a halo so divine that he would mistake you as the goddess and he the devotee. You wrapped your arms around his neck, drew in closer to his swollen lips, and shivered at his very touch.
“I am ready, K’uk’ulkan.”
He stopped ever so reluctantly, his breath hitching whilst the heat that came from his heart doubled and spread to the tips of his feathered ankles. Suddenly, you were far too tempting beneath his arms, so ready for him to take you. You were tantalizing. Absolutely exquisite.
“Are you sure?” His hands ghosted the hems of your chemise as you shook under his concupiscent gaze, “are you not a woman of faith? To bed a man you have not wed is an act of sin in the eyes of your faith.”
“You are my faith. You are my god,”
You had spoken in hasty breaths, your hands now snaking itself up to his hair and tugging at the roots.
K’uk’ulkan released a shaky sigh, lowering himself to close the distance between you.
He could feel the suppleness of your attentive chest beneath his own, and the control he had over himself started to slip at the desire that coated your eyes,
“I care not for the faith that had cursed me in my times of desperation. You have saved me when I have called you, you have nursed me until I was well. You are my god of the sea, my K’uk’ulkan, and I will give you everything that I have to give in full faith, devotion, and love.”
He kissed you like never before, the walls that the both of you erected falling into pieces with every touch of skin. You created such beautiful music in his ears, begging him to take the precious gems of your prized possession, gasping at the sensations that only his mouth could dare place at every place that was otherwise covered by your clothes.
Yet he took his time with you; so soft and gentle, trailing his lips across the soft skin of your neck and the valley of your chest still covered in the sheer fabric of your laced chemise. He had undressed you just as quickly, and he wasted no time in bringing attention to your attentive buds.
You squirmed and gasped and moaned at his ministrations—this wasn’t what you imagined it to be. This was not the tales of the housewives of their husbands’ acts for they merely claimed their bejeweled flowers as soon as they had started. K’uk’ulkan was gentler, much more tender in the way that he kissed every surface of your skin.
This was far better than the countless tales you have heard of a woman’s loss of chastity. This was far better than anything you have imagined from a man.
He worshiped you like you were the deity of his faith, exalted in praise at every scar, every freckle, every imperfection that came with your physical self.
He had reached the point of no return; drunk in your presence and your mercy.
Drunk in your sounds of ecstacy. He trailed lower and lower, his lips finally finding purchase at the mound of your untouched womanhood. Yet he did not stop there, no. There were far more places to explore. Much more parts of you to worship.
K’uk’ulkan raised your legs over his shoulders with expert ease. You yelped in surprise, but those quickly turned into embarrassed moans of your pleasure as he kissed your ankles and your feet, going higher and higher until he nipped at the insides of your thighs.
You could not help but quiver at the man who towered over you, the one who asserted his control yet left room for such soft affections, as he finally pressed his nose to the throbbing core of your body.
“Beautiful,” he mumbled in his mother tongue, something you could not quite translate just yet, “you are so beautiful for me, my queen. So needy.”
“Please—” you begged him, the ache now painfully presenting itself to you in its desire. You bucked your hips impossibly higher, and you had to cover your mouth to muffle the moans you released when he collected the sweet nectar of your core, “please, my king. Do something, anything.”
“Anything for my queen.”
Your yells of bliss were muffled by your hands pressed so firmly at your lips that it became almost painful.
He paused in his ministrations to remove yourself from your mouth, held your crossed wrists together above your head, and stared at you with a gentle command;
“Do not silence yourself whilst I pleasure you, my love. Let me hear you scream my name.”
And you did just that.
“K’uk’ulkan!”
And the little patience K’uk’ulkan had left snapped in half, and by the time the sun had risen to the highest point of mid-noon, you were left undone in more ways than one. He did not stop until you were far too gone to think of anything but his name.
He did not waver as you quivered beneath him with your eyes rolled back in total ecstasy.
He lapped at your juices like a man drinking the last drops of life from the desert sand, his tongue doing wonders to leave you in a whimpering mess.
You let your voice ring through as he continued to ravish the sweet nectar of your sin; you were embarrassingly drenched, yet he paid no mind. In fact, it seemed to excite him more than it should have.
“You taste so sweet, my love,” he dragged his tongue on your slit, finally finding purchase at the soft pearl of your clit.
You mewled pathetically at his control as he swirled his tongue and nipped at the erected bud, “you like that, don’t you? So good and needy for my tongue.”
“Please, please, please!” You did not know what you were begging for, but you knew he was the only one who could possibly satiate the itch at your core.
As if noticing your lack of sense—too drunk with his tongue to even comprehend—he gave you a teasing smirk. “Please what, my sweet? Tell your god what you wish for.”
“There, there!” You bucked your hips closer to his lips, his teeth now grazing at your sensitive clit, “please, K’uk’ulkan. Please make me feel good. Please do your bidding on this shameless thing.”
“Then come for me.” More like a command than a suggestion, the knot that was building at your core burst into strings of white euphoria. You felt faint, as if you were suspended. But you were in a high that you cannot rid yourself of.
You were addicted to this sensation; of his tongue lapping at the juices that flowed out of you like a tide, of his mouth firmly planted to give attention to your swollen bud, and the throbbing ache of your pussy as he sucked firmly at your slit.
It was all too much, but you cannot find it in yourself to stop.
“We’re not done yet, my love.” he pressed you back into the rattan, the hard surface cold against your bare back. He pressed unto you until you couldn’t breathe, and that just excited you so.
You felt him feel you up, squeeze the flesh of your body until it was painted in his color, and marked your neck with indications of his passion. You were far too dizzy in his spell that you did not care about decency any longer. You just wanted him in you.
You felt the twitch of his clothed bulge poking through the folds of your drenched core. It proved to make you even more eager, but there was a twinge of fear that came with it.
As if sensing your distress, K’uk’ulkan removed himself from you ever so slightly and wound his fingers around your jaw gently, his eyes now staring deep into your soul.
“Are you sure you are ready?” He asked you, his other hand already discarding the fabric of his emerald shorts. You nodded eagerly. There was no time to hesitate when he had made you feel so good with his touch.
“I trust you,” you laid yourself completely bare to him, your arms now stretched by the sides of your head and your neck in full display for his eyes to see.
There won’t be a moment that the fear in you will subside—after all, this was your first time. But you trusted your god to never hurt you. He will eventually chase your fears away, “please be gentle with me, my love.”
With a clang of metal, his jeweled belt and the cloth of his shorts now lay discarded on the floor. You were now both bare to each other, and you had to marvel at the length and girth of your magnificent god in awe as he sat up and stroked himself to attention.
His pre-cum was already leaking and ready to bed you right then and there. You squirmed again when he lined himself up to you, the tip of his cock now stroking your sensitive clit.
“Look at you, so ready for me,” he practically growled as he humped himself with your slick folds. You moaned and called his name in pleasure at the new sensation, “there will be no more second chances, my queen. Are you sure?”
“Yes—” you helplessly breathed out. You moved in the rhythm of his teasing, roaming your hands on the soft flesh of his pecs.
You noted how he twitched and grunted in delight when your nails ran through his nipples, and you made sure to take note of it once you wanted to serve him more in the future, “please take me as you will, K’uk’ulkan. I am yours to do as you wish.”
And with one final confirmation, he slowly pushed into you. You thought you could take his sheer size, but you were proven wrong when you hissed at the stinging pain of your broken hymen. Noticing your discomfort, K’uk’ulkan kissed you with so much passion that you have momentarily forgotten the feeling, and his strong hands that intertwined with your own served to ground you and ease your worries.
He was slow and patient, the both of you panting at your successful union. He was now fully inside you, your walls clenching around him as you adjusted to his size.
He laid still on top of you, his thumb rubbing comforting circles around the back of your hand.
He whispered sweet nothings into your ear, words of praise and affirmation of taking him in so well. A few tears started to prick the corners of your eyes, but he kissed it away with so much love that he could possibly give.
“Have I hurt you?” He asked in your mother tongue. Your breath hitched and your sigh quivered, but you managed to smile at him and shake your head.
“You would never hurt me,” you squeezed his hand tighter in yours. You relished the feeling of his body on top of you, the sparks and the shivers as he twitched inside of you, and this momentous adoration that you felt in your heart and soul just for him.
You feathered loving kisses on his collarbones, left trails of your color upon his golden skin, and left more of your lips on his fine jaw, “you can move now, my love. You will never hurt me, I promise you that.”
K’uk’ulkan started slowly, his hips barely moving in fear that he might hurt you. But the sting that came from your initial deflowering morphed into that of pleasure, and you started to move in hopes that your lover would get the message.
The feathered serpent god could barely hold it in together. He wanted nothing more than to fuck you senseless until you were too cock-drunk to even say anything but his name.
He wanted to make love to you, but centuries of depriving himself of your touch proved to awaken the primal urge to just take you, ravish you, in the most sinful way possible.
You must have noticed his focus, so you asked with a stutter, “Are you alright, my king?”
“Yes,” he grunted out, your walls clenching around his cock making him crazy. You were still so tight despite the amount of slickness that you provided him, “I will be fine. You’re just so tight for me. You’re doing so well, in yakunaj. So, so well.”
He kept thrusting into you at a slow and steady pace. He was making love to you, savoring his time and making sure that you felt safe and comfortable in your first time.
But your arms eventually flew around his neck, your chest now touching his, and you clawed at his back to steady yourself with the most lecherous words that came from your lips.
And that was his last stroke of control.
He gradually increased the intensity of his thrusts, his hands now gripping your jaw in a vice as he pushed his tongue into your mouth in a heated kiss.
You were in no means opposed to this, in fact, the knot that seemed to form on your core turned hotter and hotter with each passing second. He snaked his other hand to your clit, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves until your moans and pathetic little whimpers were muffled by his tongue.
His pace turned more animalistic, the slap of skin now echoing through your quaint little hut, and your prayers for his mercy were drowned by your own impending ecstasy. You shook and shuddered beneath him, your arms fisting his hair for dear life, and your nails painted stripes of red on his bare back.
“K’uk’ulkan!” You yelled out into the heavens as you felt your orgasm creeping near. You repeated his name upon your lips like a mantra and it only served to make him hasten his pace. He could not control his lust any longer.
He just wanted to mark what was his; to make sure that your pussy will only remember the shape of his cock, that no man would ever hold a candle to the intense pleasure that he would bring you.
“Who do you belong to?” He asked against your lips. You yelled out in reverence to his being knowing full well whose name was engraved on your mind, body, and soul—whose cock it was that was ingrained into your walls and memorizing each thrust of his generous splendor.
“Yours, K’uk’ulkan! I’m yours! Do as you will with me, my king!”
And with a final cry of praise to your god, you released the dam of heaven in blinding light sparks, the height of your orgasm making your vision go black and your body spasm with wonder.
Your lover followed close behind with a grunt of his own, and thick ropes of his seed now coated your walls in white.
The both of you laid still in each other’s presence, both panting and covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He slowly turned both of you to your sides, his cock still firmly pressed inside you, and wiped your brow dry as you breathed out in stuttering breaths. There was nothing but peaceful lull in this tiny piece of paradise.
You smiled at yourself as he wrapped his arms protectively around you, burying himself deeper into you while caressing the bare skin of your stomach, just a breadth away from your womb. In a moment of solace, you found yourself surrendering everything in your name to be with K’uk’ulkan.
He had satisfied you, took your flower as his own, and cherished it with such tenderness that left nothing but adoration at its wake. K’uk’ulkan had received your gift in kind, and as such, he had made sure to pay you back with all the riches and love he could give you in this waking world.
“Mahal kita, sinta. Sa kasalukuyan man o sa walang hanggan.”
He pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, cradled your frame against his, and gave you sanctuary in his arms.
I love you, my darling. May it be the present or through eternity.
For his love was limitless as time itself; and you did not doubt your divine counterpart to betray his own vows of long-lasting devotion.
A month has passed since K’uk’ulkan had bedded you, four months of your supposed death, and there was but a day left until you return to the frontlines of war.
Your lover stood beside you as you prepared for the trip; your load was light and scarce, just enough for you to get through the week of travel through horseback.
“Are you sure you are well on your own?” He asked in your tongue. He was already becoming proficient with your language from the countless days he has spent with you, but you had no such success in learning his tongue with such efficiency as he did, “your journey is long and hard. You might require aid.”
“You know as well as I do that you cannot survive the valleys and the mountains without any bodies of water,” you told him again.
You cupped his cheek into your hands and pecked his lips, “and your people need you, K’uk’ulkan, just as much as my people need me. Our motherland cries for its lost children, the land weeps for its stolen riches.”
“But my love—” you silenced him with another kiss, your body drawing closer to his. He replied in kind, now leaning in to capture your tongue with his own. A thin string of spit connected the both of you as you parted for air, and you had to burn into your mind the beautiful gaze of his umber eyes before you had to pull away.
“This is our battle. We fight for our motherland with our dying breaths. You understand that, don’t you?”
The implications of your question laid heavily on K’uk’ulkan’s shoulders. There was no guarantee that you would return in his arms again; just like the first time you had told him you would go to war in your first cycle of life, only to return back to a corpse of his beloved near the shores. He could not protect you as he had promised, and he was going to lose you all over again whilst you were far, far away.
“You are worried,” you stood in attention and leaned your forehead into his, your breaths intermingling as you tried to calm the ragged breaths of your lover, “tell me. Tell me what plagues your heart.”
“I am afraid…” he trailed off, his voice low and weak.
He pulled you impossibly closer, his hands finding purchase on the small of your back. You cupped his cheeks in your hands and he leaned in submissively to your touch.
“Do not be afraid, my king,” water from your sides trickled up like a stream, the ropes of liquid intertwining you both together. You did not care if your clothes become damp in the journey; this moment is all you cared about.
The moment where you comforted your god of the sea, “you are always with me. You have gifted me powers unimaginable to aid my brothers and sisters of the rebellion. A piece of you will always be with me, may it be through the gold of the necklaces that you gave me or through the heart of the sea that flows through my veins.”
He relaxed in your touch, his breath now evening out with yours. You wanted to freeze this moment, to stay in this slice of heaven that you had crafted for yourself and your god of the sea.
Yet revolution beckons you in its vicious arms, justice now weighing its scales in favor of your people. You wanted to stay in the embrace of your love, but you had to pull away in haste—for even a second more that you stay with K’uk’ulkan, your resolve will waver and dissipate altogether whilst you take his hand and ask for him to spirit you away.
“I cannot stay for too long.”
You mounted your chestnut mare in haste and pulled on her reins. K’uk’ulkan holds his hand out for you to take with a crestfallen defeat decorating the face that you had adored so much. You took his hands without hesitation and laced his fingers with yours.
“Reconsider this, my queen,” his voice was laced with worry, his hands slightly trembling underneath your own, “a kingdom awaits you at the bottom of the sea. You will be revered as one of our own. Someone as special as you need not to fight a war that would endanger you.”
“Before I am a part of your nation, I must fight for my own,” you told him steadily.
You squeezed his hand and gave him a look of determination, “I will not die in the hands of my enemy. What am I if I will not raise my voice against the oppressors that behave like children at the head of my country? We are more than just slaves; we are the people. The nation itself. I will not allow myself to die before I see this land free.”
“But you will die by the hands of your allies, just like the you of the past,” he finally revealed.
His feathered ankles lifted him up so he was at your level and you steadied the reins of your startled mare. He did not break eye contact nor did he release your hand from his hold.
“I wish not that you abandon the duties of your land, but beware of those of whom you trust. I cannot lose you again in the hands of those you thought were your brothers and sisters.”
You leaned in to capture his lips in another kiss, his worries dissipating in one simple act. You stared into his eyes as soon as you parted and the anxiousness he felt in the pits of his stomach transferred into your own.
“I will be careful, K’uk’ulkan. I promise you. I will return into your arms in one piece and finally rule your nation by your side.”
Somehow, this did not convince the feathered serpent god. There was a tug at his soul that was, oh, so familiar. Yet he let you go when he saw your conviction.
How could he ever say no to those eyes that lit up with such fire? You had the makings of a ruler whose hand stayed true and steady. He simply cannot wait for you to come back and stay by his side for the rest of his days of immortality.
You gave him one final kiss, a shy smile of endearment, and clicked your tongue and kicked the stirrups of your mare to be on your way. You waved him goodbye from the shore, his feathered ankles suspending him higher and higher until he could not see you.
Before you could reach underneath the thick foliage of the forests, you called out.
“Meet me back here in five months, my king! I will return with the news of our nation’s victory!”
For the days that passed, he returned to his kingdom to prepare the arrival of their new queen. He kept it as discreet as possible, but the Talokanil were abuzz with rumors of their ruler’s new partner.
His heart swelled when he told his confidants the tales of your bravery and of your wit, your beauty and your grace, anything that he could have ever foretell to his children on the magnificence of their future queen.
And so five months have passed.
The promised date was fast approaching, and K’uk’ulkan’s heart was beating out of his chest in anticipation. He watched as midnight turned into dawn, the dawn to noon, and finally, he waited by the shores near your rattan hut by the fall of dusk. He was now filled with worry. What if you couldn’t make it? What if you perished in war? What if—
“K’uk’ulkan!”
His heart soared at the mere mention of his name. How could one's voice be so calming to his heart?
His feet carried him afloat to the approaching horse that galloped to the direction of the beach. He could not fight the smile that appeared on his face as soon as he saw you. Although you sported more scars and possessed the eyes that have seen countless deaths, your love remained the same. It was still infinite, boundless in the midst of eternity. How he missed you in his arms.
He called out your name in joy, you leaping into his arms despite the speed of your mare. He caught you just in time and swung you around the air with glee. You were far too happy to think of anything else but your love, and there you lay in his arms after five months of separation.
"How I've missed you, my queen." He whispered into your ear. He led you to the rattan hut that he had meticulously prepared for your arrival, your feet now touching the sand as he descended from his flight. Your mare was already stationed near the grassier areas of your home while resting its legs from the week of non-ending travel.
"Oh how I've missed you too, my king." you cupped his cheek and leaned into a kiss, and he was more than happy to reciprocate the action. He still smelled like the sun and the ocean, his skin hot under your touch.
He wore nothing less than a smile for your arrival and that alone had sent you in a euphoric bliss.
But K'uk'ulkan had to upturn his smile into a frown as soon as you looked down at your feet in grief, the momentary joy you had felt now overcome with overwhelming regret.
"What is wrong, my love?" He asked as the sting if tears finally gathered in the corner of your eyes. He drew himself in closer to your trembling body and wrapped you in a secure embrace.
You immediately melted into him, the warmth of his strong arms most comforting in the midst of your sorrows.
"You were right," you hiccuped. You buried your face into the jewels of his collarbones and wept, "our own brothers have betrayed us. We freed our people, claimed our independence, yet they sent our own to slay us in Cavite. There were tensions in the rebellion before, but I didn't think—I never thought that they'd turn against us. My general helped me flee, but he and his brother were slain. I couldn't even save them with my powers—they had deprived me of any form of water to control."
K'uk'ulkan's blood boiled at the revelation.
How could they defy his queen? How could they have turned their backs against her when she had given them their freedom? Have they not fought alongside each other like siblings? Have they not watched their own spill their blood in the name of freedom? How could they, he wondered, abandon such a talented leader and leave them executed when they had done nothing but care for the land that was yours and had reclaimed back?
"What is important is that you are safe," he began, his hands tangling with your matted hair. You must not have made any stops in your journey, scared and helpless you must have been to have your own betray you at the height of your independence,
"you are back in my arms, safe and sound. That is all that matters."
"We cannot stay here for long, K'uk'ulkan," you told him, "I fear I might have been followed. I made sure to cover my tracks, but they outnumbered me ten to one."
"Then return home with me, my queen." He cupped your cheek into his palms and you surrendered yourself to the touch of his affections.
"Then what of my country? Of my people?"
"Have you not delivered their independence? Have you not fought for their freedom? You are free now, yet they dare bear their teeth at the warriors who have fought for them. What then does that say about your people?" He leaned his forehead against yours and drew circles against your cheek.
Your breath hitched at the new option presented to you—something you would not have considered in the past. But now, in the presence of a new enemy that was your own countrymen, you were given the choice to flee from your own death sentence and become the queen of a powerful nation beside the man you love.
But your motherland calls you, her land cries out in your possible absence.
"But I have only ever lived in my motherland my whole life. I cannot possibly part with it."
"You are not abandoning your homeland, I assure you that. Another home awaits you in the depths of the sea, my queen; where your citizens will not betray you, where they will serve you with dedication and remember the debts that they have owed. You need not to forget your practices and your culture. You can practice both in any land or water that your feet could lay upon; for you are now both a daughter of the Pacific islands and the ruler of the great nation of Talokan."
It was everything you could have ever imagined and more.
You nodded your head in eagerness to his proposition. His face lit up with great elation and joy. He spun you around with the help of his winged ankles and laughed at the greatest joy that could have ever felt in his life. He finally felt complete in your arms.
A queen. He was finally going to bring his people the queen that they deserve.
He kissed you mid-air, your own laughter silenced with the touch of lips upon your own. You felt the sparks of his unbridled happiness as he descended into the sand yet again, your lips never parting from each other until you were drunk with the taste of his lips on yours.
"You are perfect, in yakunaj," he said in his tongue. This time around, you had understood him, "I finally have you. I can finally make you queen to my kingdom. There will be months long celebration on your arrival, and we shall feast at this new blessing. How wonderful of a gift this truly is!"
This celebration was short-lived, however, when a trigger was pulled from the foliage of the trees and cut through the air with a deafening bang.
Time stilled for the both of you, but not in the way that it was magical as the hands that would grip your waists nor the way his lips would fit perfectly into yours. It was one of horror; of sudden doom.
And by that moment, when blood had dripped from the corners of your mouth in spurts and the wound had stained the fabric of your stomach, did time start winding again.
K'uk'ulkan called out your name in vain, his arms catching you as you fell. The bullet was lodged firmly into your mid-back, you noted. Just a hair away from your spine. Blood had gushed in rapid succession whilst your god could only watch you fade from his arms.
"Stay awake, in yakunaj. Do not dare close your eyes!"
In the haze of it all did you feel K'uk'ulkan leave your side for a brief while, the wings from his ankles flapping in aggressive strokes. You heard the cries of sorrow, the yells of pain, the dying gasps of almost ten uniformed men at the point of a spear from the mighty serpent god.
You would have called out to him at that moment, trying to appease the tears that were flowing from his eyes as he subdued his enemy—for they were merely your brothers who were led astray, and you cannot find it in your heart to resent them.
"My king…" you tried to call out, but your voice was weak. Yet you underestimated the attentiveness of your god when he landed by your side once again, his knees painfully dropping to the sands of the beach, and cradled you in his arms whilst your life slipped away from his fingers.
"No, no, no. Not again. Please, not again." He cried out desperately in his own tongue, panic and despair now clouding his otherwise clear judgment.
He spoke nothing but mumbles of desperate begging; begging for you to stay. Begging for you to remain by his side. The tears from his eyes landed on your skin as he cradled you and rubbed his cheeks against yours.
But you knew it was inevitable. You knew it was your time.
"Mahal ko…" my love, you trailed off, your bloody hands reaching for his cheek. He had dropped the conch shell that he had used to call forth his subjects and hastily grabbed your wrist and buried his nose into your palm, not minding every bit of blood that smeared in his face.
"Save your strength. I have called for aid from Talokan. Do not dare close your eyes, my love."
You must have been out of your mind, and K'uk'ulkan must've thought so too, for your grunts of pain were replaced with that of reminiscent laughter. There was joy to beget in your final moments; the most pleasant memory to have ever graced your mind.
"T-this was how we met, wasn't it? In my first and current life?" You stuttered. Your mouth was still upturned in a pleasant smile, "you came in to save me whilst I was injured, then—then you killed off those who hurt me."
"I told you to save your strength!" He cried out helplessly. You could only shake your head.
"It is my time to go, K'uk'ulkan."
"Silence. I will not permit you to say such things."
"I wish to meet you again in my next life…"
"There will be no such thing! I did not meet you in this life and the life before this to lose you again!"
"You are wrong, my king," you inhaled a sharp breath as the stabbing pain at your backside turned numb. You knew it was about time before you passed, so you continued, "you met me in the lives before this and the life after to love me—the different versions of me—and love me again as soon as I pass. The time we have spent together has been nothing but special. Do not let my death hinder such joy from your memories."
"Do not say that. You are not going to die." he pleaded.
"If I were to return in your arms again…I promise to find you first. I promise to be the first one to lay my eyes on you and fall in love at first sight; for my soul knows the weight of your love for me. And I shall—I s-shall call you by your real name. The name your followers proclaim, for I will not dare utter the loveless name bestowed upon you by our enemies."
"I have told you to save your strength," he gripped your hand tighter, as if you were to fly away if he ever so lightened his hold on her physical body. You could feel him trembling in grief and rage.
Oh, your poor love.
You did not wish to hurt him so, "I do not wish to meet you in another life; I want you by my side now. I want you to become the mother of our children, the mother of our nation. I told you I did not meet you just for you to die in my arms over and over again!"
You smiled weakly, the final spark of love you would ever give to the man who had taken your soul by storm.
You took this time to take in his presence, his face, his gorgeous eyes that seemed to speak so much wonders to you as he told you stories of the past; told you stories of his people, the future you would have built together, and the endless possibilities of your reign as his new queen.
You prayed that your soul would remember him, to pull you into the direction of the man who loved you in your past lives when you would be reborn.
"Hindi ko man hawak ang bukas, nais kong tanganan mo ang aking pangako na ilang ulit kong pipiliing mabuhay at pumanaw upang patunayan sa iyong mali ka.
Hindi ako bumati sa simula upang sa huli ay magpaalam.
Sa ating susunod na pagkikita, aking sinta."
And with that final farewell, your body lay limp. The hand that caressed your god's cheek had finally fallen into the sand. K'uk'ulkan desperately chased your dying breaths, rocking you back and forth in hopes to wake you.
I may not hold the future in my hands, but I wish you will remember this promise; that I will live and die again and again just to prove you wrong.
I have not greeted you at the beginning just so I could bid you goodbye.
Until we meet again, my beloved.
But it has proven to be futile—your motherland has claimed your life for itself like it had before in your past lives. Your blood colored the seafoam that fateful day.
Namor's heart and soul were torn in half once more; for he was reminded of the curse of his own name.
Niño sin amor. A child without love.
Zama Tulum, Northern Yucatán Peninsula, 2024
It had been a century since then, perhaps longer. But Namor still remembers you. He always has. His people mourned for your loss, and the seas had gone quiet for at least a decade to honor the loss of its queen. Despite not meeting you, Namor’s people had felt the sorrows of the oceans and its king. They have lost the ruler that they have yet to meet, and their heart also cries out for their missing queen.
He had waited patiently for you to arrive. You had promised him so; that you would be the one to find him in your fourth rebirth and say his name on your lips once again. That you would fall in love at first sight as soon as you see him for your soul would guide you to the arms of your god once again.
And he waited.
He had waited for you even as the surface world grew in its technologies, waited for you even when the threats of a celestial god had emerged from the earth's core and turned to stone. He had waited for you in fervor, protected his people against the threats of his enemies, and shared stories of your wonders through the tales of the tongue and of the murals of his underwater chamber.
He always left your throne pristine. You will be reborn to take the crown of your majesty and become the supreme leader of his nation as you should have been. It has always been your birthright. It has always been yours to begin with.
He created an alliance for you—the alliance of Wakanda and Talokan—so you would inherit the legacy of this new pact of civility. Despite his initial plans to thwart those who had opposed his kingdom, he decided in his best interest and yours that this will benefit the you of the future that will stay by his side.
Yes, everything he did was for you. It was for you to assume in your reign.
He painted murals of your likeness in his study, ones that he had presented to Princess Shuri of Wakanda, and concentrated on the strokes of his brush to capture your brilliance. It was never enough, of course, since you were a masterpiece that could not be replicated by the hands of a five century year old painter. You were far too precious, far too complex, to even comprehend.
But he still tried in fear of forgetting the smile that adorned your lips. He wishes to immortalize it in the walls of his kingdom.
“In ajawo,” my king, Namora emerged from the waters , the sway of his brush never ceasing in its meticulous strokes. Namora, one of the best warriors of his kingdom who loved to hear the stories of your past selves, continued with her words, “a surface dweller lurks at the entrance of the caves. Our warriors feel a strange power from them. How shall we proceed?”
“Strange?” Namor’s hands did not stop painting the depictions of waves that were obediently at your command, “strange how?”
“The sea favors them, my king. It guides them here.”
The hand that held the brush stopped. Namora cocked her head to the side as her king froze in place. It would look as if he were contemplating, but Namora could see the trouble that lingered from his stance.
“In ajawo?” She asked again. Namor turned to her after a few moments of reverie.
“I will deal with them. Send the warriors to guard the entrance. Do not surface until I give the command.”
There was a moment of resistance from the decorated warrior, yet she did not question her king’s decision. She bowed her head in obedience and joined her hands to mimic that of a serpent’s mouth—a gesture of respect to K’uk’ulkan—and descended down the depths of the underwater cavern to convey the message to her ranks.
“Líik’ik Talokan.”
He removed the ceremonial garbs on his shoulders and hung it on his chair. He quickly took his spear, one adorned with the gold and pearls that your first self had given him, and submerged himself in the deep waters. He still feels the phantom sting from his fight with Princess Shuri on his winged ankles, but it was nothing a few more weeks of flight could heal naturally.
The claw marks from the Black Panther have gone and healed with his people’s technology and he was grateful that your future self would not have to witness the scars of his near defeat.
There was a little voice in his head that was praying for a miracle; that the stranger that the sea favors was the promised meeting that you had so foretold.
He passed by his loyal warriors and regarded them with Talokan’s gesture of respect, his people replying in kind. Attuma and Namora, his strongest and most trusted combatants, were at the head of the company and regarded him as well with the highest respect.
With a pleased nod, he passed through the underwater tunnels of the caverns and slowly ascended into the surface.
It was just like this when he had first met you in your past lives; the gentle coat of the corals of dusk, the gentle breeze of the ocean’s hymns, and the pleasant scent of the sea and land tickling his decorated nose oh so amiably.
It was nothing compared to the Pacific islands five hundred years ago, but perhaps this was one of the fewer slices of paradise left in this otherwise tainted world.
He slowly rose from the waters, his spear held firmly at his side. His wings beat ever so silently whilst he stalked the upper waters of the cove, but he saw nothing as he approached land. Nature was abundant in this sacred place of Yucatán, but there was a lack of songs from the native birds and wildlife.
Something was there with him.
He brought his spear to his side, cautious yet unafraid. Whoever dared enter the premises of his kingdom without his permission, may it be a child favored by the sea or the evil-doers of surface dwelling nations, will know his wrath.
“I know you are there,” he spoke in the tongue that most surface-dwellers would understand, “reveal yourself at once.”
Just behind the thick fauna, you steadied your breath and clenched your hands tightly around your dagger. You were sent here to investigate the odd readings from the ocean a few months ago by your organization; the source leading you here to the northern parts of Yucatán. You were sure you were breaking more than a dozen laws and treaties just by breathing in this sacred place, but you had to obey the orders of your higher ups.
You had been scouring for clues for the past few hours, diving into the clean waters and looking for any sort of clue to what you’re searching for. The sea was much calmer here, as if it greeted you like an old friend. And although you loved to swim freely through the oceans of your own homeland, the waters of this place enchanted you.
As you were about to give up your search—sending the pointless recordings of your exploration to your organization—a voice had emerged from the coves behind you. You were met with a man with feathered ankles and ears that pointed to the sky, decorated with the treasures that the sea would give him in obedience.
Your breath hitched, your heart lurched, and somehow, in the pits of your soul, you felt the weight of an unknown feeling pulling you towards this man. He was armed and had an air of regality, yet you did not care if you were to be stabbed by his spear in that instant.
Or more clearly, you had a keen feeling he would do no such thing to hurt you.
He will not harm you, your soul whispered into your being. And your heart lurched again at the strange message.
His words rang clear through the coves, the baritone of his voice bouncing through the damp rocks and being carried into the wind at his command. You could not dare speak at such authority, but instead of being alarmed at the eyes that threatened to kill the likeness of a man in his territory, you found yourself dropping your dagger unto the grass with a faint thud.
With such speed unmatched even with the fastest rockets, a spear had directed itself on your throat. You fell on your back in surprise, but this magnificent man did not yield. Instead, he pressed the tip of his spear even closer. It was enough to puncture a small wound that trickled a small dribble of blood across your neck.
And then you locked eyes for the first time.
At last.
Namor’s heart soared, his soul finally recognizing yours and turning whole again.
The revelation of your sudden presence had hit him with finality that it was almost painful for his heart as the surge of emotion swept him up like a vicious tide. He gaped at your brilliance—just like the times he had before in the past—and found himself motionless at the mercy of your stare.
Seizing this opportunity while ignoring the painful lurches of your heart, you gathered what was left of your senses and flipped you both around. Namor was powerless beneath you as you straddled his waist, the beads of crimson now dripping down to his cheeks.
You gestured for the water from the sea to come forth, and strings of water formed into sharpened spears right above his neck. He laid in awe at your prowess.
He did not fear that you would kill him; your eyes lay neither malice nor intent to harm him in any way; his soul whispers to him as well.
“Who are you?” You asked him with gritted teeth, the beating of your heart almost deafening against your ears.
“Is it not a custom of your world to present your name before you ask others to give theirs?” He replied with a smirk. You felt heat from your neck go up your cheeks as you stuttered, the water spears under your control wavering ever so slightly.
“If you haven’t realized, I have the upper hand here,” you proved your point by drawing your weapons closer to his neck with a gentle flick of your wrist, “so talk. Who are you and why are you here?”
“I could ask you the same.” He mused. You found his nonchalance absolutely irking.
“Don’t play with me.”
“I should be the one to ask you those questions. Are you not the one who had trespassed this sacred place of worship?”
That shut you up for good. You said nothing as your stance wavered ever so slightly. He was right—you trespassed into the ancestral home of a culture you did not know without permission, and that in itself was something to be ashamed of. His garb, his jewelry, and his accent were indications that he must be a native, but you still had to be cautious around him—especially when he is a peculiar man who could use his winged ankles to fly.
“Why I am here is none of your concern.” You sensed no more hostility from this man, and he even bore an amused smirk at your thoughts. Your heart had told you to trust him so you slowly lowered your hands and dispersed the weapons from your control.
Maybe you were foolish to believe in your heart, but as soon as you had lost your grip, he flipped you again until you lay on the ground. There were no signs of danger, but the surprise you felt had elicited a sharp yelp from you.
The man with the pointed ears chuckled in amusement, his hands caging you in as he spoke again.
“But it is a matter of my concern. You have stepped into my lands and scurried around in secret. But I will forgive this transgression. You interest me.”
“By what authority are you to tell me what to do?” Namor chuckled. You still had that spirit of a warrior that he adored so much. Only you could question his authority like this without fault nor opinion.
“I am the king of this land that you step on and the seas that go deep down below the unimaginable depths.”
He saw your breath hitch, your eyes widening a fraction in realization. The regality, the grace, the jewels, his power—everything were signs of his majesty at work. You would have been filled with fear when you realized you had raised weapons against the ruler of the land you had trespassed, but somehow you did not feel as such.
Caged in the arms of this man, this odd entity that had drawn blood from your skin and raised his spear to your neck, wrapped you in the feeling of safety; as if nothing in this world could ever touch you with malicious intent.
“What is your name?” You breathed it out without thinking.
Your eyes held the stare of majestic earthen oak in a spell of unknown sentiments. Your very soul tugged on the strings of your fate, drawing you into the allure of this stranger that held you hostage. But your soul convinced you that he was no stranger. You had known him in the past, somewhere in the crevices of your memory that was forgotten long, long ago.
“If you insist,” he smiles and draws in closer, the scent of the sun and the sea upon his barren skin.
In any normal circumstances you would have kicked him off of you and battled him to the death to return home to your country, but you did no such thing. You wondered why it was so, but the only explanation you could conjure was the one that tugged painfully from your heart.
“My people call me K’uk’ulkan, but my enemies call me Namor. You are free to choose which name you would prefer.”
Namor waited in anticipation for your response, his heart and soul throbbing with a longing that has plagued him for a century.
He wondered with a deep sadness if your response would be the same as the one in your second life; to thrash in his presence in fear and curse him out as the demon of the sea. Memories that opened wounds in his heart.
Yet such aching fears were purged from his mind as you stared at him quizzically, as if the name that rang through the dusk was a name that you should have known from the start.
A recognition, perhaps, that should have sparked the memory of your three lives.
“I am not your enemy,” you started, your voice held nothing but such tender welcome, “and somehow, I wish to be your friend.”
“Then say my name, I implore you, for the name you will choose will set your fate into stone.”
You blinked at the hidden implications of his statement, but you chose to pay no mind.
“K’uk’ulkan.”
And for the first time since the end of your third life did his heart and soul thrive and overflow with all the love that he had to offer you in great reverence to your existence.
K’uk’ulkan helped you up to your feet and held your hands gently, tracing the lines and calluses that adorned your palms in great happiness.
You let him do as he bid in great confusion. Why were you so at ease in his presence? He, a mere stranger and possible threat, puts your mind in so much ease.
The questions that lingered in your mind had gone and replaced with the urge to know him better; to know his secrets, his interests, his dreams, the numerous things that would make him the man that he is today.
You reminded yourself that this was a king—that you should not even dare be in the same presence as he. But he looked at you with so much compassion, so much love.
It was impossible to pull away from the gravity of his own magnificence.
An unknown force had beckoned you to cup his cheek, swipe the tear that had unknowingly escaped his eye, and asked him his strife in your mother tongue.
“Why do you cry, K’uk’ulkan?”
K’uk’ulkan released a humorless laugh. It was filled with relief. With joy.
“It is nothing of importance.”
“You understand me?” You asked in surprise. He chuckled and leaned into your touch, his own mother tongue slipping from his lips and into your confused ears.
“I know more than just one, in yakunaj.”
“I don’t understand.” He removed himself from you and took his spear from the ground. You did not move to keep you guard; for his intentions did not read any malice.
He offered his hand for you to take, his feathered feet now stepping back into the pool of water from behind him.
“It is nothing for you to worry about. Now come, were you not in search of something in the depths? I might have what you seek.”
You looked down on the contraptions from your pack, all ready to take samples and readings as instructed from your organization.
But a little voice in your head said to leave it; to take the hand of this feathered man and swim with him into the depths of the ocean without regard to your mission. What you seek was not something ordered by your group.
It was something much deeper, something that has been clawing at your soul beyond what you could have ever known.
And with a final decision, you stripped off every bit of equipment from your person and took the hand of the man you so oddly trusted with your whole life.
K’uk’ulkan could not possibly contain this joy.
The promises of your third life came to fruition at last.
His love could not be described by mere poets nor painted by the hand of any god.
It was as endless as the waters of the deep sea and the stars that stretched across the night sky.
Blessed is he to have received the shower of your trust and have gained the prize his soul had set to win from the centuries long of wait.
“Are you ready?”
He gripped your hand tight, the heat from your skin burning him pleasantly like the fire from the sun.
Maybe you were right along. He did not meet you just so he could say goodbye. You have given him the love of three centuries and a century more.
His grief could not possibly overshadow the exuberance of his never ending affection for you.
��Yes, K’uk’ulkan.”
He will love you for a millennium more and wait for you to be reborn;
for his love was as timeless as the sands of the deep sea.
End notes: I would like to thank my darling partner, the love of my life, for helping me edit this monster of a fic. I wouldn’t have made it this far without you sweetiee <33
Taglist: @rokuhoku @l0ner-girl @zeeader @urielliii @namorswifey @themology
#namor x reader#namor x filipino!reader#namor x fem!reader#namor x you#namor x poc!reader#mcu namor#namor mckenzie#k'uk'ulkan#k'uk'ulkan x reader#wakanda forever#namor fanfiction#namor fic
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
bugna: TAKIPSILIM | destiny's twilight
PROLOGUE
Pairing: MCU Moon Knight System (Marc/Jake/Steven) x Avatar Fem!Reader
masterlist | next chapter
PROLOGUE - A KISS OF INTERTWINED DESTINIES.
YEAR 900 circa, FIRST NIGHT OF THE FULL MOON.
Tribes of Maynila - Archipelago of the Philippines in the Pre-Colonial Period
The night was draped in a silver shroud, illuminated by the radiant glow of the full moon. Its ethereal light cascaded down upon the tribal lands of Maynila, casting long, sinuous shadows that danced in the gentle breeze. This territory rich in culture and ancestral heritage was the heart of the Philippine archipelago, where the lush green canopy of the rainforest embraced the emerald waves of the sea.
Amidst the crickets' serenade and the leaves rustling in the balete tree, you lay in your mother’s bosom, so tiny and fragile. Haliya held you closer as your small fist closed gently around her forefinger. The dark brown eyes of your iloy (mother), the punong babaylan (head priestess), were filled with both love and a profound sense of protectiveness. Beside her was Rajah Bagani, your baba (father) and the leader of your tribe, his face etched with a mixture of pride and hope.
As future folklores will soon tell, your birth was no ordinary one. You emerged into the world not alone but accompanied by a twin unlike any other - a small serpent of silver and gold coiled around your small arms, its scales glistening like stars. The people of Maynila saw the kambal-ahas (snake twin) as a great omen, a symbol of true unity between the terrestrial and the divine.
Yet, destiny, like the shifting tides, has not always been kind.
On the eve of your first birthday, as the moon ascended to its zenith, you were taken ill. A high fever surged through your tiny body like wildfire, threatening to extinguish the light of your young life. Your father’s loyal uripon (servant) found you in your fevered state and rushed to inform your mother, Haliya, who had been tending to her sacred duties as the head priestess.
She and Rajah Bagani immediately rushed to your abode and abandoned their duties, all accompanied by a group of your mother’s alabay (priestess apprentice). The tribe's handmaidens watched over you with a mixture of sorrow and helplessness, for no remedy concocted by your mother’s apprentices seemed to quell the relentless fever. Panic immediately gripped your parents' hearts as they found and watched you wither away in your crib.
Desperation finally drove Haliya to her knees as she knelt and raised both arms to the sky, turning her gaze to the full moon above. With tears streaming down her face, she started whispering fervent prayers to their pantheon gods and goddesses residing in the heavens above. She beseeched them to spare your life, her precious daughter, in exchange for your eternal servitude. As Haliya's words filled the night air, the heavens themselves seemed to respond.
Among the celestial beings who heard Haliya's desperate plea, none held more sway than the Philippine pantheon goddess of the moon herself. From her celestial perch, Mayari beheld the heartache of a mother's love and could not help but take pity. Her ethereal beauty was matched only by her boundless compassion. With a resolute look, the goddess then knew what she had to do.
The moon, glowing brighter and more radiant than ever before, began to descend from the sky. It hovered above the tearstricken Haliya and her ailing little girl, its ethereal light bathing them both in a gentle, silvery glow. The villagers and the leader of the tribe were seemingly frozen in time as Mayari herself finally descended from the heavens in a cascade of silver beams.
The moon goddess was a vision of divine beauty, her luminous form casting an otherworldly radiance upon the gathering. Her silver and black hair was flowing freely with the night breeze, and her luminous right eye casted a curious look around her surroundings. Her left eye may be scarred and blind, yet it still held the same powerful gaze as its counterpart.
“Mahabaging Bathala”, Haliya managed, her tears even more prominent as she almost prostrated herself before the moon goddess. “Diwatang Mayari, ako ay iyong matapat ng lingkod”
By the grace of Bathala! Mayari, my goddess, I am your most loyal servant.
“Narinig ko ang iyong pagsamo, Haliya”, Mayari’s gentle voice spoke as both her eyes fell to you this time, the child whose bugna (true destiny) is yet to be seen. “Maging ang mga umalagad na nagbabantay sa iyong anak sa pamamagitan ng kanyang kambal-ahas”
I heard your pleas, Haliya. Even the ancestor spirits watching over your child through her snake twin prayed with you.
“Isang tagna ang nasisilay ko sa mga guhit ng kanyang kapalaran”, Mayari continued, addressing the head priestess directly. “Kaya’t tumahan ka na, Haliya. Hindi pa ngayong gabi magwawakas ang buhay ng iyong anak”
I foresee a prophecy written in the lines of her fate. So do not weep no more, Haliya. Your daughter’s life will not end tonight.
With a soft, tender kiss, Mayari bestowed upon your small forehead a gift beyond mortal comprehension. Your eyes, previously dimmed by illness, now glowed with a radiant white light, a symbol of Mayari's life force and divine power coursing through your veins. You had been reborn before your tribe’s eyes, fully transformed into the living proof of your mother’s divine oath - a promise of eternal servitude in exchange for your life.
"You shall be called Mira," Mayari declared, her voice a soothing melody. "And as my avatar, you shall serve me for all eternity until I release you. Until you fulfill and answer the calling of your bugna through my lead and my guidance"
Word of this miraculous event spread like wildfire in the neighboring tribes of Maynila, and even in the outlying territories. Little did your parents know that the trials you have surpassed in your infancy were only the beginning of your journey towards spiritual growth and enlightenment.
With Mayari's divine blessing, you grew into a child of exceptional abilities. Your very strength, agility, and durability surpassed that of any mortal. Your skin becomes impervious to harm, making you nigh invulnerable.
You underwent rigorous training in the ways of the babaylan (priestess) under your mother’s tutelage, serving as an alabay (priestess apprentice). At Haliya's guidance, you honed your abilities in spiritual guidance and mediumship. You also practiced with the tribe's babaylan (priestesses) elders in the art of healing, herbalism, and divination. With each passing day, you felt more of the moon's power coursing through your veins, its silver light guiding your path.
With unwavering dedication, you slowly climbed the ranks of the babaylan order, eventually assuming the mantle previously occupied by your mother as punong babaylan (head priestess) in your own right. You have then stood alongside your father, Rajah Bagani, as his right hand and equal in the protection and guidance of your people. Your entire family ruled with wisdom and compassion, and under your watchful gaze, your father’s banwa (tribe) prospered as your lands grew and prospered with each passing season.
But time, unrelenting and inexorable, took its toll. Like all mortals, your parents, Rajah Bagani and Haliya, succumbed to their mortal limitations, leaving you as the last vestige of their once-proud lineage. As you mourn their passing in their deathbeds, you then realize the true magnitude of your mother’s divine oath.
As the avatar of Mayari, you were untouched by mortality. You now share the immortal life of your patron goddess when she breathed your second life into your lungs that fateful night. At this discovery, you know that your life has then changed forever.
You left your late father’s banwa (tribe) to the rule of your siblings and lived as a nomad. In your solitude, you became more attuned to the celestial rhythms that governed the world. Drawing strength from the moon's luminous embrace and Mayari's guidance, you slowly unlocked the secrets of moon sorcery, mystical arts, and witchcraft. By harnessing your newly discovered powers, you managed to cast a strong illusion spell on yourself, concealing your true identity through the ages of the world that will come.
Time flowed onward like a river, carrying you through centuries and across continents. For over a thousand years, you fulfilled your duty as Mayari's avatar, protecting her travelers of the night. Your presence was a beacon of hope in the darkest of nights, guiding lost souls to safety and warding off malevolent forces that sought to harm your people - Filipinos - both faithful believers and non-believers of the old pantheon faith.
But your bugna (true destiny) wasn’t written in the stars yet, until a thousand years later.
YEAR 2025, JANUARY 13TH, FIRST NIGHT OF THE FULL MOON.
Guildford, Surrey - Carter Family Estate.
The year was 2025, a distant time far removed from the world you once knew - your humble beginnings. The world has changed beyond recognition since the days of your youth, yet you remained an unwavering presence in the cosmic dance. An unchanging constant in the ever-shifting tides of history.
You stood upon the weathered balcony of your late husband’s ancestral house in Guildford, Surrey, the centuries-old stone beneath your feet a testament to the passage of time. The old chateau was a far cry from the tropical beauty of your birthplace, but you will never trade it for anything else. After all, Darius Carter was the only man you’ve ever loved.
And he has and will always be your home.
Your thoughts swirled like the distant constellations, memories of a time long past. Centuries have passed, and you have witnessed the rise and fall of empires, the ebb and flow of civilizations. You even witnessed the world welcome all forms of life outside its circular corners, from distant galaxies and realms stretching out to the cosmos.
You stood beneath the same moon that had watched over you since your first breath. Casting its silvery glow upon the world, today marks a moment of celestial convergence.
A tagna (prophecy) waiting to be fulfilled. Your bugna (true destiny) is finally being written.
Clad in your ceremonial robes from your olden days as the punong babaylan (head priestess), you’ve made the necessary preparations to perform a spell. One that would reveal the hidden location of the ushabti of Anubis, the ancient Egyptian god of the afterlife. You started chanting the incantation, allowing Mayari’s celestial powers to flow through you as your eyes glowed white.
But just as you began to invoke the moon’s magic, an ancient and powerful celestial presence intruded upon your thoughts, abruptly interrupting your focus.
"Mira, Avatar of Mayari and daughter of the moon. Hear my voice”
Your glowing white eyes faded slowly as the Egyptian god of the moon started materializing before you. A towering figure dressed in white ceremonial robes of his people, Khonshu’s large bird skull head looked down on you with his hollow eyes. You closed your eyes for a moment, trying your utmost best to gather your thoughts before acknowledging his presence.
"Khonshu, you old bird" you whispered, your voice carrying a weight of barely contained anger waiting to be unleashed. "After your betrayal, I’m surprised you’ve still got the balls to seek me"
“I will let your insults pass, you insolent wretch”, Khonshu’s voice boomed, but you stood your ground and merely smirked at his outrage. “The only reason I did seek you was because I have been left with no other options”
“I’m the very last resort, I see”, you raised a single eyebrow before folding your arms as if waiting impatiently for his next words.
“Enough! There’s no time, little one”, Khonshu impatiently bellowed, prompting you to stick out your pinky finger before him to rub your ears clean. “I swear that by enlisting your help tonight, I will make it worth your while”
“Speak then”, you sighed heavily, surrendering to his plea. “What do you require of me?”
“You have the power to move the heavens, Mira”, Khonshu said as his next words sped up your heartbeat. “Lend me and my avatar your power as a fellow wielder of the moon’s prowess”
“Why would you need to move the heavens, Khonshu?” you inquired, shaking your head slowly as you finally sensed the gravity of what he’s truly asking of you.
“Arthur Harrow leads a cult that follows Ammit”, Khonshu explained, his tone growing heavy by every second. “They seek to release her from her thousand-year exile, and we need to move the heavens at the very night where the very stars pointed at her last resting place. I need to find Ammit’s tomb first and prevent it from happening. At any cost”
You slowly connected the dots, realizing the implication of aiding him in a task of cosmic proportions, one that would shift the very heavens themselves. Khonshu’s plan would incur the wrath of the Ennead, the Egyptian pantheon of gods, and they would punish him by trapping his ethereal form in an ushabti—a god's divine imprisonment that would render him powerless.
“The Ennead will punish you”, you couldn’t bring yourself to utter the rest of the words, the painful memories of grief and loss surging in great waves. “They will imprison you in –”
“The ushabti, Mira”, Khonshu finished the thought for you. “And Moon Knight, my avatars, will then lose their lives. The same way he lost his”
In the recesses of your mind, you saw the face of Darius Carter, your late husband, who had been the avatar of Anubis. You saw glimpses of your shared memories together — his smile, his laughter, and the tragic day he was taken from you. His death had been a consequence of the very ceremony that Khonshu is now doomed to repeat and subject his own avatars to, and the memory of his sacrifice weighed heavily on her heart.
“Lisanin mo ang aking lingkod, lapastangang diwata!”
Leave my servant alone, you disrespectful god!
Mayari’s powerful voice echoed as she descended at your side, her eyes blazing as she eyed the Egyptian moon god distastefully.
“Huwag mo siyang pakikinggan”, Mayari warned as you felt the weight of your own goddess's disapproval. “Mayroon na tayong planong nabuo, kaya’t di mo siya kailangang sundin”
Do not heed his words. We have already formulated a plan, so you don’t need to follow him.
“My avatars”, Khonshu spoke, his voice resolute as he addressed you directly. “Are intertwined with your destiny closer than you think”
“Kasinungalingan!” Mayari bellowed, attempting to shield you from Khonshu’s view. But his words intrigued you greatly.
Lies!
“Hayaan natin siyang magsalita, mahal kong diwata”, you said, breathing heavily as you looked inquisitively at the moon god.
Let him speak, my goddess.
“What do you mean by those words, Khonshu?”
“Before Anubis was imprisoned by Set, he tasked Taweret to perform a ritual and allow his avatar’s soul - his essence to be reborn into this world”, Khonshu confessed, his revelation rendering your eyes wide with disbelief. “His soul may have long passed the Field of Reeds, but Taweret succeeded with reincarnating Darius Carter into this life once again”
Tears immediately fell from your eyes as the overwhelming emotions of pure longing threatened to overwhelm you. Your patron goddess, Mayari, watched you sadly as you struggled to form your next words.
“It can’t be”, you shook your head as it filled up with even more questions left to be answered. “Your avatars?”
“See them for yourself”, Khonshu said before placing his large hand over your head, casting a spell of his own before disappearing from your sight.
Your eyes glowed white once more as the combined powers of Khonshu and Mayari flowed through your veins, your consciousness traveling with the Egyptian moon god as he commanded.
He resurfaced once more at the familiar deserts of Cairo in Egypt, with your astral form landing elegantly at his side. You swiftly scanned your surroundings for any sign of Khonshu’s avatar, your eyes trying to find evidence of his preposterous claim of them sharing fragments of your beloved’s reincarnated soul. But when you finally laid eyes on Khonshu’s avatar, his Moon Knight, your knees almost buckled.
His face - every facet of it - is an exact carbon copy of Darius Carter. Your long lost love buried beneath the sands of time - literally and figuratively.
Although, the man standing before you carries himself very differently. His white aura shines like a halo swirling around him, and he was situated beside another young woman of Arabic Egyptian descent who you do not recognize. You notice his eyes were directed at where you stand, but you realize that he couldn’t see you. He was currently looking at his patron god, his master.
“I remember that night”, Khonshu spoke, addressing his avatar’s latest words. “I remember every night”
Steven Grant eyed the god inquisitively, wondering what he was on about. You, on the other hand, couldn’t help but hear your own heart thundering inside your chest as your beloved’s reincarnation neared.
I beseech you, Mira. Khonshu’s celestial voice now echoed in your own head. Lend half of your life force to them. Save my avatars.
Huwag mong gawin ito, Mira. Mayari’s own voice resonated as she implored you. Hindi magugustuhan ng mga kapwa diwata ni Khonshu ang gagawin mo, at tiyak kong hindi na nila nanaising tulungan tayo. Hindi ba’t gusto mong maipaghiganti ang pagkamatay ng pinakamamahal mong si Darius?!
Don’t do this Mira. The Ennead won’t like you aiding Khonshu, and they will no longer be keen to help us. Don’t you want to avenge the death of your beloved Darius?!
Mayari’s vehement protests and Khonshu’s urgent pleas fought valiantly in your thoughts, one vital decision being analyzed and weighed against another. Yet as you stood at the precipice, you couldn't help but see your beloved’s reincarnation closely for the first time. A deep sense of responsibility welled up within you, and you knew you couldn't stand idly by and let history repeat itself.
You could not bear to see Marc Spector and his alters—Steven Grant and Jake Lockley, suffer the same fate as your beloved late husband.
With resolve in your heart, you made your decision.
“I’ll help you, Khonshu”, you spoke, much to Mayari’s disappointment. “I will help you move the heavens and share my life force with your avatars. And upon my aid, you will owe me a celestial debt”
“Thank you, Mira”, Khonshu nodded. “I will let you collect when the day comes”
“Khonshu?” Steven spoke, reaching out to his god.
“With your help, I can turn back the night sky”, Khonshu said, speaking to both you and Steven Grant.
“How?” Steven inquired.
“It will come at a heavy cost, and I cannot do it alone”, Khonshu explained, repeating his previous words to you for Steven to hear. “When the gods imprison me, tell Marc Spector to free me”
As Steven’s ceremonial suit enveloped his body, you summoned your own powers as Mayari’s avatar. Your astral form started to slowly ascend as your eyes glowed white, your moonlit robes trailing behind you.
“Do what I do”, Khonshu said, demonstrating to Steven how they will move the night sky.
You also extend your hands towards the moonlit sky, waving it around in sync with what Steven Grant and Khonshu is doing as the celestial skies start to dance at your command.
“Whoa, this is mental”, Steven spoke in awe at the swift shift of the constellations above him. You allowed yourself a small smile as you continued shifting the skies, his child-like wonder greatly reminding you of Darius. Your connection to Mayari surged, and the power of the full moon flowed through you as you aided Khonshu and his avatar.
“This is the night”, At Khonshu’s command, you finally stopped at the night sky that the Egyptian god was seeking.
“It’s surprisingly painful to hold, Layla”, Steven grunted, feeling the weight of the heavens on his shoulders. “Now I understand how Atlas must have felt.
“It’s working”, The Arabic-Egyptian woman who Steven Grant calls as ‘Layla’ gasped, pointing her electronic tablet towards the sky. She then attempts to scan it on her app to find out the location of Ammit’s tomb.
I can feel it. Khonshu whispered in your subconscious. The Ennead is starting the ritual.
You started to panic at his words, your life’s worst memory threatening to resurface once again as you saw Steven’s mask dematerialize before your eyes. Khonshu then knelt as he felt the ancient Egyptian spell taking its effect.
Taking a deep breath to calm and recollect yourself, you allow your hands to rest on either side of your body. You then summon every bit of strength you can muster as small beams of moonlight start to collect at your palms.
“I don’t know how much longer I can do this”, Steven gasped, his own strength from Khonshu’s power draining from his body as he tried his might to keep the night sky on hold.
“Tulungan mo ako, Diwatang Mayari”, you pleaded to your patron goddess. “Ipagkaloob mo sa akin ang iyong lakas at kapangyarihan”
Help me, my goddess Mayari. Lend me your strength and power.
Sa pagkakataong ito lamang, Mira. Mayari spoke, her motherly love for her avatar winning over her divine anger.
Only this once, Mira.
You then felt an immense power surge through your astral form like you haven’t experienced before. It was like Mayari herself channeled her divine energy and prowess directly within you as the front strands of your hair turned white as a result of the goddesses’ power residue.
“I’ve got it”, Steven’s companion, Layla, exclaimed as she finally pinpointed the coordinates they needed. “29 degrees North, 25 degrees East”
Steven then collapsed with the last of his strength, his hands planted firmly in the desert as Layla tried to catch him to support. Khonshu’s form, on the other hand, was slowly withering away like sand swaying with the strong wind. The last of his divine essence left his avatar as he foretold, prompting Steven Grant and his slumbering alters to lose consciousness.
Layla was panicking at this point, repeatedly shaking Steven Grant and Marc Spector awake to no avail. You then shook your head as your own powers briefly subsided, witnessing the gut wrenching scene unfold before you.
“It cannot end like this” you whispered, determined to fulfill what you were meant to do that night. “I will not let you die - any of you”
Summoning your moon powers once again, one wave of your hand rendered Layla El-Faouly unconscious, their bodies then floating lightly upon your command as you tried to get them to safety. You enveloped them in a protective shield using your magical talents as bullets started to fire from oncoming vehicles headed towards your direction.
Your hands slowly raised in midair, your eyes glowing bright white once more as your magic commanded the blasphemous vehicles to float. You crushed them with your fist in a terrifying grip, the moon’s power surging through.
As your astral form descended, the auras of Khonshu’s avatar swirled before your eyes. Hues of white, gray and black enveloped the unconscious body of your former lover’s reincarnation as you took a few steps near. Finally kneeling before him, your hands hovered directly above the unconscious form of Marc Spector who lay on the ground, his alters Steven Grant and Jake Lockley locked in a fragile balance. You began to chant in an ancient, melodious language, your words carrying the weight of centuries of moon magic.
Whispering a silent prayer to your patron goddess, you pressed a gentle kiss on Marc’s forehead. And as your lips slowly hovered over his, an oath was sealed beneath the full moon's watchful gaze.
"Arise, Moon Knight," your voice echoing as a soothing lullaby in the deep corners of Marc Spector’s shared headspace. "With the power of the moon, I grant you half of my life."
With the magic that flowed through your veins, you breathed life into his lungs as your lips finally connected. A surge of energy coursed through Marc's prone form, his eyes fluttered open as it glowed white like yours. A crescent moon tattoo then slowly inked itself into your respective jugular notches, symbolizing your intertwined destiny with Khonshu’s avatar.
You then opened your eyes to see Marc looking directly at you, seemingly recognizing his other half even in your astral form. He sees you - they all do.
And as the events of that night finally took a toll on your body, your astral form was pulled back to your waiting body in London. Your eyes then felt heavy as a powerful sleep spell overtook your being, collapsing in the arms of your patron goddess. The last whispers you’ve heard were of a heavenly voice, seeking your forgiveness as she places a spell before you surrender your mind to the promise of good dreams with Darius Carter and his reincarnation, the Moon Knight, beneath the full moon’s eternal light.
“Patawarin mo ako, Mira, sa aking gagawin”
Forgive me, Mira, for what I’m about to do.
END OF PROLOGUE.
masterlist | next chapter
#marc spector x reader#steven grant x reader#jake lockley x reader#moon knight#moon knight fanfiction#moon knight fanfic#moon knight x reader#mcu moon knight#marc spector#steven grant#jake lockley#marc x avatar f!reader#steven x avatar f!reader#jake x avatar f!reader#philippines#philippine mythology#ancient egypt#egyptian mythology#filipino reader#filipina#filipino#pre colonial philippines#mayari#khonshu#anubis#layla el faouly
120 notes
·
View notes
Text
I'm doing something 🤣 Idk if it'll contain romance or what or if it's just pure comedic bullshit idk 🤷 we'll see
#personal#namor x reader#namor x filipino!reader#namor x filipino reader#might post#might not#depends on my mood#mcu namor x reader
70 notes
·
View notes
Text
Do I Wanna Know
Chapter 35 of my Mayari series
Mayari Masterlist | Complete Masterlist
Summary: Thinking that life has finally settled down, an unexpected visitor comes and makes Loki question things about your past.
A/N: I love these two. Mayari will always hold a special place in my heart because it was the first fic I ever wrote. I cringe sometimes reading my old posts because I know I've grown as a writer. haha. But I wanted to come back to these two. So, I hope y'all will indulge me. I added people to the taglist. Sorry if I overstepped, if you'd like to be taken off, please let me know. This entire series is inspired by songs. The complete playlist could be found here on Spotify.
Pairing: Loki x Original Female Character (reader)
Word Count: 2021
Warnings: Mentions of smut. Mild smut...
Dividers by: @firefly-graphics
The quinjet touched down just before sunset. Three of the Avengers stepped off with their new consultant.
“We appreciate you helping us out,” said Steve.
“It’s no problem. Now…uh…you said you had someone on your team that has similar gifts to mine.” The consultant said. “Will I get to meet them?” he asked in a plummy accent.
“Ya. I’m curious how your power works if it’s similar to hers.” Tony said.
“Her?” the consultant wondered out loud.
“Yes. We’ve been testing her and pushing her, to see how her powers work. She’s very remarkable. She can sing without compelling anyone now.” Bruce added.
“Compel? Sing? Do you mean to tell me you have a Siren on your team?” The male consultant asked, disbelievingly.
“Yes! Her name is Mayari. Have you heard of her?” Bruce asked.
“The moon goddess?” the consultant asked with a growing smirk.
“The one and the same,” Tony confirmed. “Do you know her?” He asked, suddenly getting protective.
“Oh, we go way back. The goddess and I.” His step a little more upbeat, he followed the three Avengers down the elevator to the common room.
You were sitting on the barstool next to the kitchen island. You were scrolling through your phone, looking for recipes to make for dinner. “Maybe some lasagna? I’m sure those three would have a big appetite coming back from their mission,” you asked Loki. He was standing behind you with his arms wrapped around your midsection and his chin on your shoulder as he half-heartedly looked at your phone.
“Hmm. Sounds delicious darling. Shall we get started?” he whispered close to your ear, peppering kisses along your neck. You giggled and he held you tighter not wanting you to escape his grasp.
“Babe, you’re not even listening. I was talking about dinner.”
“Yes, I was listening, but I’m otherwise distracted by the delicious little morsel that’s in my arms at the moment.” He spun you around on the barstool, making you open your legs to him as he confidently put himself in between you.
He kissed you. Passionately and unabashedly. Moaning when your tongue invaded his. You stopped short of breath, making his mouth follow yours for another kiss.
You put your fingers to his lips and said, “Love, it’s my night to cook. I promise if you’ll help me make dinner, I will do whatever you desire...later. I’ll even prop myself on a platter if you want.” You giggled as Loki’s eyes grew with mischief at the thought. A lascivious smile came forth from his lips.
“Would you like me to preheat the oven?” Loki asked enthusiastically.
“Yes, please,” you laughed. “Than…” you stopped what you were saying and stood straight up. Your phone falling onto the marble countertops. Your eyes started to glow, but not their usual silver blue. It was a golden yellow.
“Mayari, what’s wrong darling?” Loki asked alarmed. You started to giggle. A chuckle. Then you turned around and faced the elevator. The three members of the team just stepped off the lift. Along with their new consultant. His eyes were glowing a faint yellow just like yours.
“Mayari! Did you miss me?” The consultant held out his arms and you started to run towards him. A giggle bursting out from your lips.
Loki looked furious. Who does this bastard think he is? Loki reached out to you and was about to hold you back when you froze in the middle of your run. You started to tremble and shook your head as if you were shaking the spell away from your body. Your eyes returned to their dark brown since you have yet to meet the moon tonight.
“Dru! You promised you wouldn’t do that to me again!” You playfully punched his shoulder and then wrapped your arms around him in a hug.
“Sorry, love. Old habits die hard.” Druig picked you up and spun you around.
“Wh-what’s going on here?” Tony asked confused.
“I’d like to know the same.” Loki sneered.
Druig gave you a mano when he placed you back down, holding your hand up to his forehead. You reciprocated the gesture. After all, he is older than you, and an Eternal. A mutual sign of respect.
“What are you doing here?” You asked still in his arms.
“You’re friends here needed help with something. And when they mentioned they had a charmer on the team, I had to meet them naturally. I didn’t know it was a siren. A goddess, no less.”
“Ahem!” You heard Loki clear his throat next to you. You looked up and saw a very menacing stare. Not directed towards you, but towards the familiar embrace, you still seem to be in. Druig let go of you slowly, teasingly, with a smirk on his face.
“Druig. This is my fiancé, Loki.” You said as you stood next to Loki, embracing his arm. “Loki this is a long-time friend of mine, Druig.” Druig let out his hand. Loki shook his hand begrudgingly.
“Fiancé? So this is the lucky one, eh?” Druig said to you. “Congratulations. I believe I knew your father Loki.”
“Oh? Which one?” He said with that sneer still on his face.
“Both of them. My friends and I were present at the battle of Tønsberg.” Druig clarified.
“How are they? Do they still keep in touch? How’s Makkari?” You asked Druig enthusiastically.
“Come on. We’ll talk over dinner. I heard you say you were making lasagna. I can’t wait. I’ve always loved your cooking.”
Druig went to the conference room with some of the other members of the team to work on whatever they needed help with. You started to cook the lasagna and Loki stayed by your side as he prepped the salad and garlic bread. He didn’t ask you a single question about Druig, or your relationship with him. You appreciated that he didn’t dig, but you knew your fiancé too well to know that he won’t let this go.
You tried to take Loki’s attention off it because you knew that his mind was probably racing through different scenarios of your past and possible ways of torturing Druig later on.
So you decided to flirt with him. You started with soft touches to his arm. Letting your fingers trace up and down from his rolled sleeves, down to his long fingers. You called him your pet names when you needed something. “Can you get this for me love?” “How’s it going, my prince?” He would answer you sweetly, but absently, continuing to do the task at hand.
At one point, when he handed you a ladle for the sauce, you said, “Thank you, daddy.”
He froze. “Kitten, if you continue this little game you’re playing, you might not like the outcome.”
“Oh yeah, why is that?” You tested. He started to slowly walk towards you, pinning you against the counter.
“Because I have no problems taking you right here, right now. I will sit you on this counter and proceed to eat your delectable pussy until you beg for my cock. And do not doubt that I will make sure you scream my name so that everyone will know whom you belong to!” He whispered threateningly. His heated stare locked onto yours. You shivered at his words. Your lace panties instantly soaked. “Especially that smug bastard who thinks he can control you.”
“I knew it.” You said breathlessly.
“I mean who the fuck does he think he is?!” Loki snapped, throwing the towel that was over his shoulders down onto the countertops.
“Loki. He is only a friend.” You said as you took his arms and wrapped them around you. “He knows he can’t control me. So he tries, every time we see each other.”
“Tries?! How often do you see each other?”
“I don’t know. A few times. I mostly keep in touch with his other friends.”
“I don’t like him.”
“Noted.” You said. “He’s only here for a few weeks, then he’ll be gone.”
Loki growled. A few weeks is too long for him to be anywhere near you. He didn’t like Druig.
“You are the love of my eternal life. Don’t you trust me?” you asked him.
“I trust you explicitly, my dear. But if he can control you, who knows exactly what that bastard is capable of.”
“You! You control me. In all the good ways. You’re the only one who has that control over me.” You said flirtatiously. “Come. Let’s finish dinner so we can serve it. Then you can do exactly what you just said you would do.”
The team had gathered around the dinner table, welcoming Druig. Loki sat next to you and kept his hands on you the whole time. “So how do you two know each other?” Bucky asked, pointing to you and Druig.
“Love?” Druig looked at you smiling, asking you to tell the story. Loki’s lips curled up at his nickname for you.
“Druig and his friend Makkari came by our island when the Emergence came about. Sadly, I could not help them locate where the Emergence would take place.”
“You helped plenty, dear. You might not have known where he would come out, but we were able to hone in and gather good information. This one can be very persuasive.” Druig said winking at you but talking to everyone else. Loki’s grip on your thigh tightened. If he didn’t let go soon, you would have five small bruises wrapped around your thigh. You crossed your legs, freeing your thigh from Loki’s hard grasp. Loki looked at you disapprovingly and crossed his arms over his chest.
“That was actually a week before Tony and Bruce came to our home island and asked for help. So you can imagine the overwhelming feeling I had. We hadn’t had any new people come to the island in over a thousand years. Then in a span of a week, I met four new people and…” and fought my brother and lost my voice.
“Anyways…after I lost my voice, it was Makkari who taught me sign language and how to communicate.” You finished. Loki didn’t miss the small pause you had. He looked at you with worried eyes. He knew you still harbored resentment over your brother. That chapter in your book still waiting to be finished.
He wrapped his arms behind you, resting on your chair. His thumb calmingly grazes your shoulder as if to say, ‘I’m here. It’s ok.’
“So you guys went back to her home island after you stopped that giant hand from coming out of the Indian Ocean? We must’ve missed each other in passing,” Tony said.
The conversation simmered down to a low rumble in the back of your head as you relived the traumatic two weeks of your life.
The two weeks that altered and changed your life completely. You were so broken. So depressed at having been confined to the island and then to have the outside world barge into your life unexpectedly and without remorse. A small tear threatened to escape. Your feelings were overwhelming you and brimming to the surface.
You felt a cool touch on the back of your neck. Small, soft grazes steal your attention from your harmful spiral. You looked over to Loki who was already watching you with concerned eyes. You took a lungful of air in and slowly let it out. Loki smiled at you when you exhaled.
One, Two.
In, and out.
But all those things had to happen. If they didn’t, you wouldn’t have met the love of your life. The wind to your waves. You would go through it all over again. The pain. The heartache. You would willingly lose your voice. You would wait another thousand years if it meant that Loki was waiting for you on the other side. Thank you, you mouthed to Loki.
“Always, and forever, my Sigyn,” he whispered back. Loki gave you a soft kiss on your forehead as he rubbed your arm up and down.
Druig watched the small interaction, drinking out of his bottle. A small smile creeping up his face.
⬅️Chapter 34: Mine | Chapter 36: Coming Soon➡️
Mayari Taglist:
@user13cabs @alexs1200 @lokiprompts @huntress-artemiss @mischief2sarawr @a-witch-with-words @britishserpent @crimson25 @el-zef @ficitve-sl0th @gigglingtigger @goldencherriess @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @immersed-in-mischief @kellatron55 @kkdvkyya @lokiprompts21 @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @lokisninerealms @loopsisloops @lucylaufeyson3 @luvlady-writes @michelleleewise @muddyorbs @nopenottodayson @one-oblivious-nerd @ozymdias @salempoe @theaudacitytowrite @vbecker10 @wheredafandomat @xorpsbane
#loki fandom#loki fluff#tom hiddleston fluff#loki fanfic#loki laufeyson#tom hiddleston angst#tom hiddleston fanfic#tom hiddleston fanfiction#loki angst#loki smut#loki series#mcu#loki x you#loki x reader#loki x OC#Marvel fanfic#MCU fanfic#Mayari#filipino mythology#norse mythology (MCU)#song fic#song lyrics#asianwomen#asian oc#marvel fanfic
73 notes
·
View notes
Note
OH OH I GOT A GOOD ONE
What if, date with Marc and Filipinx!Reader, but the reader has a third eye (ykow the one) and can see not normal shit and sees that Khonshu has been staring at em transfixed the WHOLE.DAMN.TIME
AAAAAAAAAAA
-marites anon
A/n: Marites anon, you smart person, i've never written anything so fast that i didn't even double check if this fic even makes sense HAHAHHAHA the idea had me on a chokehold that I stayed up late for this 😌
Somebody's Watching Me
Pairings: Marc Spector x Filipinx!reader; maybe platonic!Khonshu x Filipinx!reader
Warnings: grammar, language, ooc Khonshu and Marc, no use of y/n
Word count: 1.1k+ words (i think this is the second short oneshot i've written jahshhsh)
You were in the middle of your date with this gwapong americano* named Marc. This is your seventh successful date and things were doing quite well! Until he or it appeared. Currently looming on the ledge of the opposite building where you and Marc are having a lunch date and you can feel its gaze on you.
A tall mummified being that has a bird skull for a head and always has a crescent staff in hand.
Not really the weirdest thing you've seen.
You see, you were born with this 'gift of seeing'. Ghosts, spirits, etc have always been visible to you and growing up in the Philippines, known for housing many types of spirits, just makes your life just a little interesting. You go to work, you see a faceless child playing with the stuff on the desk opposite to yours, in your flat a lady dressed in the renaissance era just suddenly walks by your door just as you open it and many many more. The big bird skull headed being just adds to that list.
~~
Marc Spector notices your eyes aren't completely focused on your food, like you usually do but instead it is fixed on something in the sky. His brow furrows a little and calls your attention, he wants to reach out to your hand and hold it but stops himself, he wants you to be the first to initiate physical contact and he also doesn't want to scare you off. You seem to snap out of your daze as you chuckle, pink hue dusting your cheeks as your beautiful eyes look back at him.
"You okay?" He asks in concern before following your line of sight. His eyes widened seeing Khonshu. You could see the god?! Or is Khonshu just somehow in the same place of your line of sight?
"Oh y-yeah! I'm fine, sorry I- I just have a lot on my mind-" it sounded like a lie to him, he glared at the perched Egyptian god for his behavior before facing you worriedly.
He has been telling Khonshu to stop following him around when he's out on a date, of course the god didn't listen to him. The god merely shrugged at his glare and continued to observe from his place.
"I just.." You chew your bottom lip, a habit, he noticed over the few days he's been seeing you, whenever you think of what you'll say next. You then sigh, shaking your head and then chuckling, waving your hand dismissively before saying, "Ah, forget about it."
"You can tell me anythin'. I won't judge, I promise.." he reassures you with a soft smile. He hears the god scoff beside him and he was almost tempted to punch his gut, if only he could.
"But if you're not com-"
"There's a big, mummified bird skull head person beside you." You blurt out quickly, wide eyes staring at him anxiously.
His mouth drops a little and looks at the bird god who kept his stare on you and chuckled, then back at you. Surprised by the fact that you could see the being and that his first thoughts were correct.
~~
You fiddle with your thumbs, shit shit putang inaa!* You should've just kept your mouth shut, now he's going to think you're a psycho!! And of course, the being that is your current subject just adds insult to injury, chuckling at your nervous state.
"You probably think I'm weird but-"
"You can see him?"
You look up from your hands and see Marc jabbing his thumb to the mummified being. His words and the accuracy of his pointing to the being's location has you opening and closing your mouth.
"The little human has a gift of sight, Marc. Of course they can."
The sassy and condescending comment of the being made you snort, before nodding to answer his question.
"Yeah, I can see a lot of unusual and borderline supernatural things that other people don't. The bird fella is just the addition to the long list. You can too?!"
You ask him as you glance at the tall being, feeling much more intimidated by his proximity and having an idea of how big this being actually is. Now that you think of it, this bird guy's physique is close to Kapres*.
"All the time, he's always breathing down my neck.." You hear Marc grumble before he continues to eat. You pout and squint your eyes at the bird man.
"Why don't you leave Marc alone, big guy?" Asking the being, politely.
No matter how big or small, you always have to respect these beings, was your number one rule in interacting with them.
"Such a query will not be answered, little bug. It is a..complicated matter only Marc and I understand." He replied with a sway of his head, gesturing to the curly haired man in front of you.
You hum curiously, you've never come across a being who replies politely back to you nor has given that type of answer. You glance at Marc and find that he was profusely avoiding your stare.
"I will not question further then.." You decided and finished your plate. The rest of the date was spent in silence that is both comfortable and awkward as the bird guy decided to stay and..continue staring.
You wiped your mouth before leaning to the table and whispered to Marc, "Does he always stare at people?"
He chuckles with a hushed reply, also leaning close to you, "I think it's his favorite pastime."
"I am right here and I can hear you!" The mummy grumbles, a sudden gust of wind swoops the place.
Your brows shot up at the display of power. Surely that wind was not coincidental to the big bird's annoyance, right? Sure some spirits have an insignificant ability to interact with some object but something in your gut is telling you this fella is not just some spirit that has decided to attach itself to a human.
"Don't worry, 'bout him. He can't hurt you." Marc comforts you, his finger brushing yours. The action makes you want to hold his comparatively large hands but you resist the urge.
"Does he have a name?" You inquired instead, looking at the neckless being that has now settled on the seat beside you two's table and took your glass of water, taking a sip as you listened to the spirit's answer.
"I am Khonshu, Protector of the Travelers in the Night, God of the Moon and Time."
You choked on your drink, and nearly soat the water out-
"Say what now?!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~
*gwapong Americano = handsome American
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
*putang ina = motherfucker
*Kapre = In Philippine folklore, the kapre is a creature that may be described as a tree giant, being a tall, dark-coloured, hairy, and muscular creature. Kapres are also said to have a very strong body odour and to sit in tree branches to smoke. (Wikipedia)
Hope you guys enjoyed that JAHAHAHAGSSG i think marites anon has me wrapped around their pinky y'all💀/nm
#G•answers#marites anon#moon knight x filipinx!reader#moon knight x filipino!reader#G•writes#marc spector x reader#moon knight x reader#khonshu x reader#khonshu x filipino!reader#filipino reader#mcu x reader#marvel x reader#marvel x filipino reader#mcu x filipino reader#marvel x asian!reader#marvel fanfiction#fanfcition
252 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
wheezlin
uhh um uhm um uh
sugiyaproject
sugiyaproject.
asstro-astrology
A Really Sucky Astrologer
worldnewz247
World News 24/7
oliver--fanoli
Fanoli Boss