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mooncleaver · 1 year

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My Queen, My Sun and My Sea

talokan once had a queen. one who loved her people with all her heart—with the same heart she had given to her k'uk'ulkan for what felt like millennia ago. but they lost her to the hands of the enemy; it was a tragic tale painted on the walls of the king's mural, the pain searing itself onto his heart uninvited. he rules now with a darkened hole in his chest, fueled by the loss of his true love and a force to protect his people even more. after all, only the most broken people can be great leaders.

pairing: namor x fem!talokan!reader

warnings: bpwf spoilers!! death (i was lowkey evil for that), colonizers, inaccurate translations, nawt very proofread lol

El Niño Sin Amor.

That was a name that echoed deep inside Shuri's head, its bitter aftertaste lingering still; a piece of Namor that she'd just uncovered.

He was an enigma; a powerful being who rose from the sea, unannounced with his presence but has always been there, deep in the waters where he and his kingdom have flourished in the city of Talokan. He had just finished recounting about his and his people's origins, how the colonizers brought a disease that left his ancestors to drink a concoction from a vibranium-infused plant found in an underwater cave to save themselves, turning them into water-breathing individuals; the Talokanil.

She turned to Namor with many questions unanswered, only to see him staring at something with a look akin to pain and longing on one of the surfaces on his murals, caressing the painting with a gentleness she had yet to seen from the god.

She shifted to the side quietly, trying to see what he was gazing at. When Namor bowed his head, Shuri saw a painting of a woman beside his serpent, posing regally with what looked like a staff in her hand.

She wore a beautiful jade and gold headpiece, green and brown feathers lining the outer layer, fading in its design as if the light was shining on them. It towered atop her figure, framing her perfectly like she was always meant to be there. She was adorned in jewelry, from the large, circular green jade plugs that hung from her ears to the tessellated necklace that she wore—a striking amalgamation of gleaming silver beads, plated viridescent tiles to carved gold pendants and everything that complemented her beauty. The woman had a tan clothe wrapped around her body, washes of terracotta and hues of sage and cream woven in stripes on the fabric. She was covered in jewels—just like Namor.

One thing for sure, she must have been of royalty in Talokan. Or a goddess, perhaps. The corks in Shuri's head turned as she tried to figure out where the woman in the mural fit in Namor's story.

"Who is that?" Her question seemed to break him out of his reverie. She could see the way his body tensed at her question, and whether it was because she cut him out of his thoughts of because of what she asked, she didn't know.

It took a quiet moment before Namor answered, looking in deep contemplation with his eyebrows furrowed deeply and his eyes growing darker. The next thing he uttered was so full of emotion that it flooded through the sentence, his voice sounding thicker than blood.

"Leti' ka'ach in reina. My queen. In k'iino' ka, in k'áak'náabo'."

(She was my queen. My sun and my sea.)

For a second her words refused to make it out of her mouth. The Wakandan princess' mind didn't wonder to Namor having a queen.

The Namor now wasn't like the Namor she had met in the shores of her land with her mother. The Namor now felt like a broken man who would go the farthest lengths to protect his people. With every counting second of being in this underwater cave, Shuri seemed to discover more and more about the man, slowly laying bare the walls he had built around himself.

"Is she-"

"She was.. she was killed by surface dwellers." The god cut off, as if he couldn't bear to hear the words coming out from someone else's lips. He closed his eyes for a moment and Shuri felt the sea grow quiet for a split second. It was like it remembered their lost queen.

He took a deep breathe before speaking out and if one were to listen closely, they could hear the slight shakiness in his voice, like talking about this particular incident tore his wounds open again. "Years ago the surface dwellers tried to find Talokan. They were told of an underwater city filled with glittering gold and diamonds, with a palace of precious metals whose value exceeds all else."

"They are greedy, always taking and taking what is not theirs—beasts who ravage land with no mind of its consequences. She was there where the land met the waters along with the young ones, and those monsters crossed paths with them." Namor shook his head, disdain present in the way he moved his body and his words.

"The first thing they did they raised their weapons, pointing it at her when all she did was offer them her hands. She tried to speak to them, to negotiate with peace and kindness. But they are blinded with hatred." He spat that word out and Shuri almost flinched at his tone.

"With no mercy they killed her and the children. They took their lives as if it was nothing to them."

"When I emerged to the surface.. she was already dying."

One of your handmaids had been the one to inform him of the situation, barging into his mural room right when he got back from a trip with a growing panic in her eyes as she screamed in anguish, 'Le reina! Le reina!'

"I turned to those murderers and treated them with how they treated my wife and the children; I killed them with no mercy."

The feathered serpent god will never forget the possessing rage he felt when he saw what those killers did to his wife. Without a single doubt in his movements he flew towards them like a strike of lightning and sliced their heads off before they could even scream.

Something that would always haunt his dreams was seeing his beloved die in his arms, unable to do anything, running out of time.

Sometimes, if the K'uk'ulkan thought too much about it, he could still feel the way he held you in his arms, the jarring coldness of your body that surged across his skin like a bloodthirsty frostbite.

Your hair fell in a pool beneath your head, encrusted with blood that he didn't know where it came from. There was too much, too much of it that slithered around your body. With trembling hands he supported the back of your neck, bringing your face closer as he cradled your cheeks in his palms.

"Ma', ma', in puksi'ik'al.. jaap wicho'ob, láayli' ma' jach a súutuko'," he pleaded, heart racing a thousand beats at your weakened state. His fingers stroked your temples, tracing the skin from your eyebrows to the high point of your cheek and you swore you would forever savor the feel of his skin on yours.

(No, no, my heart.. open your eyes, it's not your time yet,)

"It's al-..right, in amado." You choked out, holding the hand that held your face and leaning onto his palms with whatever energy you had left in you. It was getting harder to open your eyes or even speak, the hole in your chest rampaging your body like an unquenched beast.

"In ku. Let go, K'ukulkan. Ts'o'ok in meentik le ba'ax táan des-.. destinado in beetik waye'.. je'el u páajtal in je'elel bejla'e'.."

(They call me. I've done what I was meant to do here.. I can rest now..)

He ignored your terrifying acceptance and gently quieted you, pressing his lips onto your forehead in deep fervor. "Save you words, in yaakunaj-"

Namor's heart threatened to jump right out of his chest when he felt your hand go slightly limp, desperately taking it above the crook of his neck, right where the ends of his jaw met his ears. The king held onto you so tightly, trying to keep you grounded with him in the world of the living as if the warmth of his body would spread life to your decaying one. He saw you smile peacefully, like his touch rejuvenated you for a single beat, slowly yet surely stroking the tip of his pointed ears as you've always done whenever you had the chance to. It was a small act of affection that Namor fell weak to, and he couldn't contain the abrupt cry that fell from his lips at the familiar gesture.

"K'a'as a puksi'ik'al yéetel a-.. a yaakunaj, in ajawo'," but even then your stubborn and insistent nature persevered. You spoke with only him and your love for him in mind, silently telling him that this will not be the end. That despite after all this when you will no longer be there to tell him just how beloved and brave he is, he should still remember what he had learned—what he had taught you. You hoped that it would keep him grounded and true, still fierce but with compassion and empathy.

(Remember your heart and your love, my king,)

"In.. yaakunech," and you let our your final breathe, the light in your eyes no longer shining as you stared up into nothing. At the least you looked content to pass to the afterlife in your husbands arms, a gentle lift on the corner of your lips to signify that you've moved on. But along with your departure you tore apart of Namor that he didn't think could ever be replaced—left him with a half-ripped heart and as a shell of the man he once was.

(I love you)

Now, kneeling on the prickling pearly sand tainted with weeping carmine, he was not a god. He was not the king of a powerful underwater nation, he was not a lethal mutant, a hero, a villain, or a protector. No, he was just a man. A man whose heart had been punctured with a hole in the shape of his beloved.

He screamed at the world with the voice of someone who had just lost everything, scorning the surface dwellers with a burning pit of anger and vengeance in his blackened heart. It echoed around the area, bleeding onto every rock, every blade of grass and every tree with his promise of death. The sea grew restless, mirroring the raging currents in his soul.

Namor choked a cry, closing your eyes as his hands shook with grief and pain, body threatening to collapse under his heartbreak. He brought your face closer to his, resting his forehead against yours while he scrunched his eyes closed, disbelieving and mourning of the loss of his beloved. Because no matter how much he begged, how much he cried for you, you would never come back to him, never blessing him with that delicate smile on your face again. The god stayed there for what felt like hours and days, whispering sweet goodbyes, harrowing sobs and promises to avenge you.

When he carried your cold body to Talokan, the people could only stare in shock and despair over the loss of their darling queen. In their eyes you were one of the most powerful people in the kingdom, not just because of your position, but because of your compassion and your love—something that knew no bounds.

It was a painful and gut-wrenching experience, to bury his own wife. It brought him back to the time where he had to do the same to his own mother, to cover her in clothe and put a piece of maize inside her mouth.

"The surface dwellers have taken so much. Talokan's queen, our home and our freedom. I will not let them do so again." Namor had a scathing look in his eyes, a latent tone of tiredness from facing a world that only took from him.

"She must have been an amazing queen and a strong woman." Shuri could only utter these words with a solemn expression on her face, unable to reply to such vulnerability of someone she had considered a dangerous enemy. Despite that.. there was an underlying empathy between the two. Shuri understood him. She knew the pain of losing someone you love.

"She was." A calm visage eventually spread around his face as he looked up at the glorious mural depicted on the walls of the room. "She had the biggest heart and the kindest soul."

Namor couldn't help but get lost in his memories of his beautiful wife. He speaks no lies when he describes you. You were the people's queen, as what the Talokanil called you. You'd always visit the people, play games with the children and scour the underwater markets that sold all kinds of trinkets and foods. Whenever the people needed you you were always there, willing to help them without a second glance as you opened your heart to them all.

After you death, whenever he would swim around Talokan and talk to his people—laughing and joking around with them—there would be this.. serene melody inside his heart, a gentleness that ran through his veins. Namor would feel the water pulsing on the pads of his skin and he'd always take a moment to close his eyes to relish the feeling. Then a smile would make it onto his face—the kind of smile that you would always tell him to show more often. His people felt it too, like a warm embrace to their soul, as if you were watching over them, still caring about them even when you were gone.

It was not only to Talokan's people, but to the ocean's animals too.

If there was one thing about his queen, it was that you had a deep affinity with the marine animals. Whenever the king couldn't find you anywhere in your room or in the palace halls, Namor would only smile to himself and swim to the clearing of the sea just outside of Talokan, watching his wife croon along the whales and the orcas, taking care of them as if your love spoke a thousand languages.

"In ch'ujuk, ko'oten paakat!" You would shout, gleefully waving your hand up in the air with no care in the world.

(My sweet, come and look!)

Sometimes he would only stay back and watch you with eyes so tender that it looked like he was entirely captivated by you. By your voice, your laughter, your smile; your everything. Other times, Namor would be too taken by you (as he always was), deciding to join you play with the creatures that you'd called 'your babies'. Whirling and chasing them around them felt like dancing in the water and Namor was too in love to ever deny you of your little joy.

Even now whenever the whales would call out to the sea, or when the orcas whistled and clicked along, he could still hear your radiant laughter singing along with them and oh how he longed to hear that sound again, to hear the melody of the ocean in its fullness.

You were simply the glue to Talokan; everyone adored the queen.

Until now, your throne still sat next to his, the jade and vibranium never ceasing to glow. Every time he sat there, watching over his people and celebrating his kingdom with defiant shouts of "L'ik'ik Talokan" he would always remember your face, remember the proud look you had when you would raise your fist to your chest along with everyone. Your memory will never fade in the heart of Talokan, always lingering in the brightest places, comforting during troubling times, because you will always be a precious piece of the kingdom that neither he nor his people would forget.

If he brought the sun to his people, you were the sun to him.

"You and I, we are not so different, princess." He broke his train of thought.

"Those people only see us as threats because they know we are powerful. They will not stop until they have what they want. It is a danger to my kingdom and my people—a threat to your people too."

Finally, Namor turned his head to face Shuri, a determined aura lingering in his voice and in his expression. She felt compelled to stare back straight into his eyes, the conviction in his tone like a true king. "And so I offer you again."

"Join me, and we will never have to see our people suffer, to see our loved ones suffer. We will no longer mourn our losses and bury the dead for unjust cruelty."

"Together, we will watch the world burn."

lawd this man singlehandedly got me out of a writing slump like.. making a fic with angst + namor = too easy 😩💳💥

this is my first time writing for him, so i hope it was okay! im so in love with him and i wanted to contribute my own piece to the fandom.

also, i'm pretty sure the yucatec mayan was not properly translated, so i apologize from my heart for the inaccuracies. please tell me if i have to fix anything!

dividers by @delishlydelightfuldividers and @rpinkling

tags: @bloatedandlonly

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thegreatestsandwich · 1 year

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Baby, all at once, this is enough (Namor x f!reader)

(Still obsessed with him, don’t judge me)

Masterlist

Pairing: Namor x F!reader

Word count: 574

Summary: You gave him one of the gratest gifts he could have ever asked for.

Warning: Nothing to be honest, just the must pure of purest fluff, I think.

A/N: What can I say? I love him so much that I will write for him to the day I die

Translations:

In yakunaj - My love

Jats'uts - beautiful

In reina - My queen

Meent in ts'áaik teen asab ti' le ba'ax je'el k'áatik, Nib óolal in yaakunaj. - You have given me more than I could ever ask for, thank you my love

Coments, Reblogs and Asks are happily received!

Namor enter quietly to his quarters, not wanting to disturb you if you were resting. He remembered the moment he saw you laying on his bed, so pale and weak, that the thought of loosing you terrified him. He just couldn’t stand seeing you like that. He couldn’t. You were everything, his strength, his heart, his soul. He was a changed man because of you.

You opened your eyes at the sound of him, a smile immediately forming on your face. “Hi.” You whispered.

“In yakunaj.” He kneeled at your side, his hands quickly grabbing yours, kissing your palms. “How are you feeling? Do you need anything?”

You laugh. “I have everything I could ever need at the moment.”

Namor smiled, even after all this time, he waiting for you to ask anything, you would always deny that offer. “You are glowing.” One of his hands left yours and brush away the few strands of hair that glued to your face thanks to the sweat. “Jats'uts.”

“So you are saying I was not beautiful before?” You said, the smile still on your face. Namor shook his head in amusement. “Have you seen them?”

“Not yet.” He kissed your forehead. “I wanted to see you first, needed to make sure you didn’t leave me.”

“As if I could leave you alone.” You whispered back.

As if on cue, Namora entered smiling, two little bundles tucked on her arms. “K'uk'ulkan.” She nodded at Namor, turning quickly to you. “In reina.”

Namor left your side for a moment, walking towards Namora, gently taking away one of the babies. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight of his son, cradling him as gently as he could. You had given him so much more than he ever expected to have. Much more than he deserved.

Namora soflty place the baby girl on your arms, her fingers tracing the features of the infant with so much wonder before taking her leave, leaving both parents to bond with their children.

He walked to you, sitting on your side. Your head rested on his arm, as he watched both of his children. “Meent in ts'áaik teen asab ti' le ba'ax je'el k'áatik, Nib óolal in yaakunaj.” He kissed your forehead, making you close your eyes. Namor couldn’t help the tears that began falling down on his face, looking back and forth between his children. “I vow to protect them, to protect you.”

You hummed, a bit tired from everything. “You don’t have to vow anything, I know you will do it regardless.” Your tired eyes watched how your husband brushed his hand over your son’s bald head. At that moment, you love him even more than you had before.

“The others want to meet them soon.” Namor whispered against your hair, noticing how your eyes began to close. “I manage to appease them for a little bit, but I am afraid that they will demand to know them soon.”

“I know, Namora didn’t leave my side until they were born, I think she even threatened the midwife when she made a mistake.” You laughed, your eyes finally closed.

Namor hummed in approval. “Remind me to thank her later.” He put his son on the basket, the one that the old women from Talokan had given him before, repeating the action with his daughter. “Rest, in yaakunaj, you have earn it.”

“Stay.” You muttered against his chest.

“I wasn’t planning on leaving.”

#namor x y/n #namor x you #namor x reader #namor fluff #tenoch huerta #namor #kukulcan #black panther #black panther wakanda forever #K'uk'ulkan #namor imagine #namor fanfiction #namor of talokan #i still love this man #he is so precious #and my life #namor baby i love you #im still waiting for you baby

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revrover · 1 year

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The Stranger - Pt. 2

Part One: The Stranger

Part Three

Pairing: Namor x Reader

Word Count: 8k (lol whoops)

Warnings: Violence, Blood, Language, PLOT

Summary: Namor isn’t the only one who has been searching for his general. Thanks to you, Namora’s life was saved -- but when your connection to the two strangers brings you face to face with a hostile group of government agents, you find yourself in the crossfire of a much bigger conflict.

A/N: OMG first and foremost thank you for being here, thank your for coming back, and thank you for reading. This has taken me a bit longer to post because I’ve been pouring over it every day for a month, trying to get it just right. Comments, feedback and reblogs mean THE WORLD to me, so feel free to show some love and as always please be kind!

***I do not give permission to copy, plagiarize, or repost my work as your own in any form!

There is a growing unrest inside you.

Days have passed since your encounter with Namor after saving the life of his general, Namora. Two mysterious strangers who have left your mind reeling with questions, unrelenting and unquenchable as a flame that dares to spread like wildfire, consuming your thoughts entirely.

You repeatedly play the memory over in your head with no rational way to explain what you witnessed; her blue skin, his superhuman strength; the curious metal that outfitted both of their armor; how they disappeared into the vast open ocean.

"Something on your mind?" A fruit vendor asks, snapping you back to reality. You stand in the middle of the bustling village marketplace, doing your best to orient yourself quickly.

“Your head is — how you say…? — in the clouds, yes?” The vendor asks in her best English, smiling politely at you as she stands next to her cart, eager for you to buy something.

"Is it that obvious?" You joke with a tired laugh. "Two, please."

You scoop up a pair of fresh mangos and hand the woman some change from your pocket. She kindly accepts it with a nod of appreciation. Carefully sliding the fruit into your bag, you return a nod of your own.

You continue to walk through the market, the damp air carrying an aroma of local cuisine and sweat fills your lungs. Weaving your way in and out of aisles created by vendor carts, you feel a sense of calm as you watch the locals interacting with one another. There's beauty to be found in their sense of community.

Typically, you would gather your needed food and supplies and then be on your way back home, but today as your mind wanders, so do your feet.

Meandering down another aisle, your thoughts drift back to Namor, specifically the morning you found him on your front porch. You can practically feel the warmth of that sunrise as you imagine its light illuminating his dark eyes. You picture the smile that pulled at the corners of his mouth when you asked him if he would come back, a moment you hold onto tightly. The memory gives you optimism that you will see him again someday and hopefully have the opportunity to ask him more questions.

Lost in thought, you hardly notice a small crate sticking out a few inches further than other accompanying carts in the aisle. Tripping your foot as you walk by, it nearly tumbles you to the ground. You manage to catch your balance and your breath before face-planting into the dirt. Immediately turning to apologize, you find an elderly man seated behind the crate, his back leaning against the wagon behind him and his eyes shut.

The man is slender and his head bald, save for a few wisps of hair above his ears. Most of his body is covered by a knitted green poncho, well-worn and fraying along the hem. To both your relief and surprise, he seems completely undisturbed by your clumsy collision with his crate of goods. Unsure if he’s even awake, you reach down to help reset any items on the crate you may have displaced.

Your jaw drops slightly as you see the contents on display. Spread out on a velvet brown tablecloth sits a small assortment of beautiful books, scrolls, and other documents. Admiring them, you reach out and push back one of the scrolls, revealing a gorgeous hand-sketched portrait of the island.

“Did you draw this?” You ask, impressed by the skill of it.

“Mmm,” He hums, shaking his head, "But I made very good trade with the man who did.”

You find his answer odd, though slightly amusing, considering he never opened his eyes to see which piece you were referring to. As you browse the rest of the items, a particular book stands out to you. It’s different from the rest of the collection — small and bound in leather, although the leather itself is worn and brittle-looking. You pick it up and inspect it closer. The binding is loose, the pages aged and tattered.

“Careful with that one. Very old.” The elderly man says, his eyes remaining shut. “Nearly 400 years. Got it in a trade with a visiting merchant from our southeastern sister islands."

How does he even do that? You wonder as you start delicately flipping through the pages of the book. You make it about midway through when you open to a particular page that makes you freeze, your heart nearly jumping out of your throat. Your eyes widen as you bring the page closer to your face.

It’s a crude drawing — basic, two-dimensional, and very old like the man said, but the likeness is undeniable. Depicted is the figure of a man. He dawns a grand snake-like headpiece and is grasping a spear. His body is adorned with jade and other metals. Sharp ears. Winged ankles.

"Excuse me!” you ask the elderly man with an exasperated breath, practically jumping over the crate as you lean forward and shout, “These!" You flip the book around to show him the open page, pointing excessively at the picture and the glyphs below it. "What do these say?!"

Your voice is eager and desperate, emotions you hardly try to hide.

The man's left eye slowly squints open.

“Only few are still legible.” He says, shrugging.

“Okay, yes, but the ones you can read, what do they say?!” You plead.

He sighs, opening his other eye and leaning forward slightly to get a better look. After a moment, he leans back against the wagon and closes his eyes again.

"King. Serpent. God. Monster."

You hang on to each word he tells you. Turning the book back around, you bring it back up to your face for another closer inspection.

"How much?" You ask, ready to make a deal.

The elderly man cracks one eye open to look at you for a moment as he considers his price, then wordlessly points to your arm with a feeble finger. You follow his gaze down to the small beaded bracelet around your wrist — the last reminder of your life before coming to the island. You hold your arm up to him, making sure you understand correctly. He nods politely, and without hesitation, you untie the bracelet and toss it to him.

"Nice doing business!" He says with a wide grin as he holds up the bracelet. You are already nose-deep in the book as you turn on your heels, quickening your pace as you head home where you can study more carefully.

Maneuvering your way out of the market to the outskirts of the village, you hardly need your eyes to guide your feet home. You take advantage of the remaining daylight to examine the pages as you walk, turning page after page and scanning for any information about Namor and his people. There’s little there, the book seeming to be a very old, mingled account of island history and lore. Seeing as you are not a historian and certainly not a linguist, it’s difficult to decipher. Still, you do your best to piece together what you can from the pictures.

King. Serpent. God. Monster.

The sky begins to dim. You can hear the faint roar of waves as you near the coastline. It’s too dark to see much detail on the pages now, so you carefully tuck the book into your bag as you step over the trunks of palm trees. The path beneath your feet gradually turns from brush to sand, and soon you find yourself walking along the familiar stretch of beach that leads you home. You stare out into the darkness, listening to the rhythmic pattern of ocean waves and breathing in the salty evening air. The moon hovers above the water, burning brightly as countless stars paint the sky behind it.

You continue walking in the darkness, but there’s an uneasiness building in your gut the further you go. You should be nearing home by now, but no lanterns have come into view. You always light lanterns before heading into town. They burn for hours in your absence so, by the time you return, you have light to guide you. All you see now are shadows and silhouettes that dance against the tree line, and every sound and indiscernible movement has you on edge.

It’s not until you are nearly a stone's throw away that the bungalow materializes in the night. Your stomach twists as the wind blows by you, rustling your hair and causing the snuffed-out lanterns hanging from your porch to creak as they swing back and forth. You hear shuffling, and small beams of light sporadically shine through the cracks of lumber that make up the walls of your home.

There is someone inside.

An alarm goes off in your head, screaming at you to get out. As quietly as possible, you begin backing away. Eyes fixed on the bungalow, you take one step back. Then another. Then another. Then — thud.

Your stomach flips and your throat tightens. While you pray you’ve miscalculated and miraculously made it to the tree line in three short steps instead of thirty, you feel the unmistakable presence of a body directly behind you.

“Going somewhere?” A deep voice growls menacingly. It belongs to a man, his tone gruff, although you can’t quite make out his accent. You do, however, feel the blood drain from your face as you slowly turn your head, finding what is quite possibly the largest human being you have ever seen. Dressed in black military-grade tactical gear and armed with enough ammo and firepower to take on a small army, you know there is no fucking way you are getting away from this guy.

The man grabs your arm and forcefully drags you toward the bungalow. Once up the stairs, he pushes you inside and releases his grasp. You rub your arm and look up to find another man standing in your kitchen, his back turned away from you as he stands hunched over your table. He’s dressed in similar tactical gear and has a walkie-talkie hooked to his belt. A lantern burns next to him as he seems to be pouring over some sort of map.

“Sir,” the man behind you bellows.

The man at the table straightens his posture and turns around to face you both. His hair is buzzed and his face is stubbly, with a thick prominent mustache that stretches across his upper lip. He seems a bit older, and by the ‘sir’ formality, you are fairly confident he is in charge.

“Ah, we were wondering when you would be back.” He says in a sly tone, his accent American.

“Who the hell are you? What are you doing in my house?” You respond in anger to the unwelcome visitor.

The man takes a sweeping look around the place, then his eyes come back to you.

“I think we can agree that “house” is a bit of a loose term.” He responds with sarcasm, a knowing look on his face. You continue to stare him down, unresponsive to his quip. The man loosens his shoulders and smiles at you. “Where are my manners? Agent Barrett.” He reaches his hand out, offering to shake yours.

You don’t move a muscle.

There is an awkward moment of silence, then Agent Barrett’s hand retreats. He turns, beginning to pace around your tiny kitchen. The room is in rougher shape than usual, clearly ransacked by whatever search was conducted before your arrival. The agent picks up a small roll of gauze from off the counter and holds it up.

“Tell me,” he says, inspecting the bandage material closely, “have you had any visitors recently?” His gaze quickly flicks over to you, an eyebrow raised.

Your pulse quickens as your blood turns to ice. Your mind immediately flashes to Namora floating wounded in the water; to Namor breaking down your door; to the two of them disappearing into the night. You put on your best poker face and shake your head.

“There’s no one around here for miles,” you explain, trying to be as convincing as possible. “You should try more inland towards the village. Most tourists, if any, stick closer to town or retreat to the far side of the island where—“

“Oh, she’s no tourist.” Agent Barrett chuckles, cutting you off. It feels insulting as if your suggestion were so preposterous it was borderline humorous.

She. He is looking for Namora.

Setting the gauze down next to the sink, Agent Barrett turns and walks over to you.

“You’re certain you haven’t seen anybody unusual around here in the past few days?”

He’s standing much closer now. Something about him makes your skin crawl. You eye the gun strapped to his hip and doubt it is for self-defense. Again, you shake your head.

Barrett sighs and gives you a disappointed smile.

“Okay.” He says softly while nodding his head. He backs away from you as the room lingers in silence. You allow yourself to take a breath, but the relief is short-lived. “Looks like we’re doing this the hard way.”

On Barrett’s cue, the large man behind you grabs your shoulder and kicks the back of your legs, dropping you hard to your knees. With his free hand, he yanks the bag off your other shoulder and tosses it to another man who emerges from the doorway to your bedroom. He catches the bag and immediately starts rummaging through it.

“Hey—HEY!” You shout, “What the hell are you—“

“A woman!” Barrett yells. “Pale blue skin. Very skilled swimmer. Four days ago, she single-handedly took down three UN-sanctioned vessels in the middle of the goddamn Atlantic! Three! Now where I’m from,” he crouches down to your level, aggressively getting in your face as he drops his voice lower, “that’s what we call an act of terrorism.”

Adrenaline overtakes your body as you feel your heart beat so intensely it threatens to break right out of your chest. From the corner of your eye, you watch as Barrett’s henchman searches your bag. He pulls out the mangos and tosses them on the floor. Then, he grabs the old leather-bound book. Turning it over in his hand, he looks at it for a moment and tucks it into his belt.

“She was wounded,” Barrett continues, calling your attention back to him, “and our intelligence indicates she washed up somewhere along this shoreline. That's where her trail goes cold. And as you said, there's no one around here for miles. No one, except you."

His implication is obvious.

“This woman, where is she?” He makes a last-ditch effort to convey a friendly tone, but you can hear his patience dwindling. "And please don't make me ask again."

You stare at him coldly, lips sealed together. You’re not telling this man a damn thing.

"Mmmm," is all he grunts, his eyes dropping to the ground. He heaves a heavy sigh as he pushes against his knees to stand up. Once on his feet, Agent Barrett stares at you for another moment before nodding his head to the agent behind you. The next thing you know, you are suddenly being pulled up by your hair, the man’s grip tight against the back of your neck as he turns and pushes you out the door.

Your hands clamor to his as you struggle against him to relieve the painful tension pulling on your scalp, attempting to release his grip on you. But the man is too strong and drags you down the stairs of your porch with ease. You make it a few meters down the shore when he shoves you down to your knees. Your legs make divots in the sand as your hands catch the rest of your body’s momentum. Hunched over, your knees and palms sting from the sand's friction.

You immediately tense up as you feel a gun press against your head, the cool metal barrel hungry to fire. Hearing footsteps approaching behind, you quickly swallow your fear to maintain composure. Agent Barrett walks past, turning to position himself directly in front of you again — only this time, he doesn’t crouch down to your level.

“Look at me.” He demands as he towers over you. His body language makes it clear who is in control. In the only act of defiance you have left in your arsenal, you keep your gaze laser-focused on the water straight ahead of you, refusing to give in to his instruction. Growing impatient, Barrett roughly grabs your chin. He clasps it tightly as he yanks your jaw upward, forcing you to make eye contact with him.

“You’re going to tell me about your friend, and you’re going to tell me where she is, right now," he growls.

You stare at him, disdain in your eyes. You momentarily scan your surroundings and count nearly twenty other men on the beach now. It’s enough to make your gaze and your heart sink straight to the ground.

Even if you wanted to tell him, you don't have the answers Barrett is looking for. His face hardens as your lack of cooperation and unwillingness to talk becomes clearer and clearer. Loosening his grip and dropping your chin, Agent Barrett looks at the agent next to you.

“Do it,” he orders, leaving you without another word as he walks back up the beach toward the bungalow.

The gun presses even harder against your temple and you hear the irrefutable sound of it being cocked as a bullet rolls into the chamber. Your heart is heavy as your eyes begin to well with tears. You stare out at the ocean, the night swallowing the horizon save it for the piercing glow of the moon that cuts its way through the sky down to Earth. It’s a better view than most get in their final moments, you suppose. For that, you consider yourself lucky.

Time seems suspended as you feel the ocean breeze blow past you, pouring over your skin and filling your lungs as you deeply inhale these final moments. You savor the way the salty air envelops you like the comforting embrace of an old friend. Squeezing your eyes shut, you try fighting back the tears. Despite your best efforts, one single drop escapes, racing down your cheek as you accept your fate.

Zzzzziiinnng!

Where you expect to hear the split-second ring of a gun firing before getting your brain blasted out the side of your skull, you instead hear a high-pitched whistling through the air and the unmistakable slice of a blade penetrating flesh. The weight of the gun barrel against your head slides limply away, followed by the thud of a body hitting the ground next to you.

Your eyes shoot open. You turn to see your executioner now lying dead on his back with a spear pelted through his chest. Your eyes widen in fear, then settle on the spear itself. A spear you recognize — because it’s the same one that was held to your throat only a few days earlier.

Namor.

He's here. Desperately your eyes search the ocean line, scouring the darkness for him.

"We're under attack!" Someone yells frantically from behind you. It is one of Barrett’s men.

"Open Fire! Open fire!" Another one shouts.

You immediately abandon your search for Namor, hitting the deck and covering your head as dueling bullets and spears fly over you. Hearing anguished cries from both sides, you peek out from over your arm and watch in horror as an agent a few meters away looks down at their dart-ridden chest. They drop to their knees, then fall forward onto their face.

Your head whirls around at the sound of another spear making contact with a body and dropping it to the ground. This agent is about ten meters away from you, and while your first instinct is to get the hell out of there — run as far as you can as fast as you can — you notice your little leather-bound book tucked into the belt of the lifeless body.

You tell yourself to leave it. You plead with yourself to leave it.

“Damn it,” you mutter in frustration to yourself. You are getting that book.

Before you can give it another thought, you are already army-crawling through the sand. The sound of gunfire rings in your ears as more weapons return their fire. You scramble to the body, staying low to the ground on your chest and abdomen. Once there, you reach out and grab the book, wrangling it free from the deceased man's belt. You shove it into your waistband when something behind you explodes, causing you to duck your head and shield yourself with your arms.

The battle is deafening and disorienting. The mix of adrenaline and shock threatens to override your entire system as you try to maintain your focus.

Keep moving, you tell yourself.

You lift your head, ready to run, but your breath catches and you freeze. Mere inches from your face, you find yourself staring at someone’s feet and feel the presence of their body hovering over you. You brush the stinging sand out of your eyes, pleading in your mind that this is not the end. Not now. As your vision sharpens, you feel a surge of hope. There in front of you are two winged ankles.

Your eyes shoot up. Standing above you, illuminated by the light of the moon and the rapid sparks of machine guns firing, is Namor.

He looks down at you, his stare intense as his nostrils flare and his chest rises and falls with each breath. Gripping the hilt of the spear, he effortlessly removes it from the body next to you with one pull, his eyes never leaving yours. The ongoing battle on the beach doesn’t deter his attention from you in the slightest. From behind him, a handful of armed warriors with pale blue skin come storming out of the ocean.

“Namora!” He calls, and one warrior immediately splits off from the group. While the others continue to push the team of agents to the far side of the beach, the general comes to Namor’s side and your eyes widen as you take her in. Almost unrecognizable from when you first met her, Namora is a sight to behold. Instead of weak and wounded, she now stands strong and commanding, fully outfitted in her armor of woven jade and metal. Dazzling lionfish spines adorn her head and neck, and she wears the same mesh apparatus over her nose and mouth as before. You are astounded when you squint and barely see a seam remaining where you had stitched her up.

“K'uk'ulkan.” She answers, standing at attention.

Namor’s eyes are still fixed on you. He hands the retrieved spear to Namora and then nods in your direction.

You become nervous, suddenly uncertain if the pair of them have come to you as friend or foe, watching as Namora tightens her grip around the weapon.

“Go.” Namor urges, and a wave of relief washes over you. Friend.

“Where are my goddamn reinforcements?!!” You hear someone shout into a walkie-talkie. You recognize the voice as Agent Barrett's.

“Go NOW,” Namor commands, his eyes flicking up in Barrett’s direction. The expression on his face becomes menacing as he strides past you, his muscles rigid and his pace purposeful. He pulls his own spear out of the larger agent who nearly executed you as he walks past the body, arming himself.

Without hesitation, Namora strides forward and links her arm under your shoulder, pulling you up to your feet and yanking you quickly toward the trees. Before you can reach them, however, more men dressed in black combat gear come pouring out of the thick foliage, ready to attack.

Three surround you as the others rush to provide relief further down the beach. Instead of guns, these agents come armed with batons and other blunt weapons. Namora whips you back behind her, placing herself between you and the approaching enemy. She walks toward the agents, rotating her spear in her hand. You’re surprised by how relaxed her posture is as she waits for the men, each one at least twice her size, to make the first move.

The agent to her right makes the first advance, lunging forward at Namora. She meets him with speed and ferocity, quickly sidestepping him only to grab hold of his shoulders. She uses them as an anchor to whirl herself around him, gracefully landing and her feet and then lodging her spear into his back. The man cries out in pain, but Namora quickly delivers the final blow as she twists the spear in deeper and shoves it upward toward his lungs.

No sooner does his body hit the ground when the two other men charge at her. Like a beautifully choreographed dance, Namora drops to her knees, sliding across the sand between them to duck under their attacks. As she does so, she nimbly summersaults back onto her feet and turns one hundred and eighty degrees. Back on the attack, she runs hard at them. You watch as Namora delivers a combination of charged punches to one agent, then springs back to avoid the swing of the baton from the other. To counter the move, she kicks the man above the kneecap with so much power it sends his whole leg backward and brings him to his knees. She grabs the sides of his head with both of her hands, thrusting it down hard against her knee. You feel the grisly sound of blunt broken bone deep in your core as his skull makes contact.

As the man’s head reels backward, blood pouring from his face, Namora seamlessly transitions between her two opponents, avoiding another attack from the third agent she had previously deflected with punches. Her attention back on him, she trades blows as they fight in more hand-to-hand combat. Between kicks, punches, and counter-punches, Namora strategically inches herself backward until she’s practically standing on top of the first body she dropped. Baiting her current opponent forward, she taunts him with the tilt of her head, exaggerated by her headpiece. It works like a charm. He charges at her, and swooping under him, she wraps around his chest and pulls him over the top of her, flipping him onto his back. In one calculated motion, she pulls her spear from the body of the first agent which is now easily within reaching distance, and drives it into the second.

It all plays out in front of you so quickly when the third agent with the broken nose — well, broken face, really — groans as he gets himself up, ready to have another go at Namora. She engages, but as she moves towards him you see a fourth man emerge from the trees, raising a gun to shoot.

“LOOK OUT!” You yell to warn her, but pure instinct has your feet sprinting forward to stop him.

You don’t process any thought or consider any tactic, you just hurl yourself at him. The two of you collide, crashing to the ground with all the power and momentum you can muster. You scramble for his gun and manage to knock it away, but he barrels you over him and slams your back against the ground. The impact forces the air out of your lungs, temporarily paralyzing you as you struggle for breath. The agent straddles your body, putting more pressure on your chest as he pulls a knife from his hip. With all your strength, you fight to hold his arm back. He breaks through your grasp and takes a swipe at you, but reflexively you deflect it away with your hand. The knife slices open your palm and you cry out as you try to continue pushing his arms back.

When he raises his blade again, a blur of orange lionfish spines come streaking across as Namora flies over the back of the agent and yanks him off of you. They tumble across the sand, but she quickly gains the upper hand by entangling him in a headlock. Clutching your injured hand and still struggling for oxygen, you look on as she tightens her grip around the man’s neck and then abruptly cracks it to the side.

The sound makes you sick to your stomach, but you also feel a sense of relief. And gratitude. Your chest heaves as you finally start to catch your breath, your entire body buzzing. You turn to see the dead agents Namora has so quickly disposed of, their bodies dispersed across the sand. She unwraps herself from her most recent kill and makes her way to you with haste.

As she reaches you, you hear the chaos and fighting continue further down the beach. Then, the faint sound of a helicopter approaching. Barrett’s reinforcements.

“There are too many of them,” you say in distress as you witness more agents pour out onto the sand to fight Namor’s warriors. Even if each one had Namora’s four-to-one kill ratio, they are still outnumbered. As the chopper blades get louder, Namora looks at you intensely, reaching out her hand.

“Come,” she insists.

She’s gotten you this far. You grasp her hand without hesitation and she pulls you to your feet. You edge closer to the tree line where you hope safety and concealment await you, but as you reach the lush landscape something pricks your ears. It’s not gunfire. It’s not the chopper.

Namora tugs your arm as she tries to usher you into the trees, but your focus is elsewhere. A faint, melodic breeze moves past you like a ghost, causing your mind to become hazy. As the sound grows louder, an indescribable melody rings in your ears that is both euphoric and dreadful. You don’t even notice the tension of Namora’s grip on your hand increase as your feet redirect you toward the water, compelled by its call.

“No!” Namora yells at you as she yanks your arm. The force of it snaps your attention back for a moment, and you watch as the agents who line the beach suddenly cease fighting and instead walk undeterred paths straight into the water. Terror fills you as they wade further and further out, the water coming up to their knees, then their hips, then their chests, until they are completely submerged underneath.

You shoot a glance to Namora, petrified and confused. Whatever is happening, she seems unaffected. Your thoughts and vision begin to cloud again, and you feel like someone else is controlling your body as the ocean summons you along with the others. Every part of you feels entranced by the chorus of voices in the air as their notes overwhelm your senses and leave you disoriented. Namora grabs you, practically throwing you over her shoulder as she runs into the trees. You become hard to carry, so she pulls you both into the cove of a sheltered root system at the edge of the foliage. Huddling next to you, Namora tightly wraps her arms around your head to cover your ears with her hands.

Pupils dilated, you desperately try to hold onto any shred of active consciousness before giving in entirely to the song. Your mind becomes infiltrated by it and begins to process what you see in pieces; men in the water, drowning themselves; gunfire raining down from the night sky; Namor, spear in hand, leaping into the air, taking impossible strides toward a chopper; the chopper spinning out of control.

You feel the heat against your face as the chopper crashes to the ground, exploding on impact. The last thing you remember seeing is Namor in the distance, standing on the sand. Illuminated by the raging inferno that burns behind him from the destroyed chopper, he is fierce, incredible, and terrifying.

A god. A monster.

The haunting chorus melody continues to consume your mind. Even with Namora’s help, you feel your body shift as it involuntarily attempts to get up. Namora squeezes her palms over your ears with even more strength and restrains your movements.

"No." She whispers fiercely.

You squeeze your eyes shut, covering your hands over Namora's as tightly as possible. Blood pours from your hand down hers, trickling onto your shoulder. The noise is too much, and as you feel yourself begin to scream, everything goes black.

——

Your feet drag through the cool sand.

That’s the first thing you see when you finally become conscious again. Your head hangs low in front of you, pounding as it bobs up and down. It’s still dark out, but you find your home lit up by more lanterns as you approach the pathway to your porch.

You glance to your right and left, discovering you are being assisted by two people on either side of you — Namora on your right and a much taller blue-skinned man on your left. His shoulders are wide and his head is outfitted with an armored hammerhead skull. Arms slung around both of their necks, your body is in a state of pure exhaustion as they get you up the stairs to the door.

As you start to step with your own feet, they are alerted by your recovered consciousness. Quickly, the man unhooks your arm from around him, steadying you against Namora. He retreats as you find yourself gaining feeling back in your body. Namora patiently waits for you to get your bearings, and when you do she opens the front door for you, ushering you to go inside. You follow her instruction, and there waiting for you in the bungalow is Namor.

Namor stands against your kitchen counter, the same place you stood when he first came crashing into your home. His arms are folded across his broad chest. Although his head is down, his eyes are flicked upward toward you, watching your every move. The flame of a lantern on the table glints off his irises, illuminating the dark stare that hovers just below his furrowed brow.

“Please, sit.” He says with a stern voice, his open palm gesturing toward a chair at the table.

As you sit down, you hear the front door close behind you.

Silence.

"Those men," he finally says, pushing himself away from the counter as he stands up straighter, “they were seeking information?"

You only nod, afraid to say too much.

“It’s safe to speak here. I’ve made sure of it.” He promises, sensing your reluctance to engage in conversation.

“They wanted to know about Namora." You answer cautiously.

Namor's expression grows even more serious. He subtly shifts his weight from side to side before settling back into the center of his powerful stance.

"And even with your life on the line, you said nothing."

You are unsure if he is making a statement or a question.

"Why?" He asks through a clenched jaw.

"Why?" You repeat back to him, caught off guard by the question. "Does it matter why?"

"Yes,” Namor says directly, raising his eyebrows. “Because I need to know if I put my spear through the right person.”

The seriousness of his statement hits you like a brick. Your mind flashes back to the beach, you on your knees with a gun to your head as Namor’s spear plows its way through the man next to you. How easily, you wonder, could he have changed his aim by just a few degrees if you had decided to open your mouth and spill what little information you did know to those men?

As you think about it, you also begin to ask yourself why. Why did you keep your mouth shut? Why did you help Namor and his people?

You take a deep breath as you consider your reasons, then lift your gaze to him.

“You barged into my home, broke down my door, and threatened my life. But even then, the motives behind your actions were clear — the love and concern for your people. These men,” your eyes trail away as you feel a wave of anger build up inside, "these men were driven by self-interest and self-preservation. It wasn’t hard to choose a side.”

His face is stoic as he listens to your answer.

“Plus,” you add, “I promised you I wouldn’t say anything. Twice.”

Namor looks at you the same way he did the night you met him. The look that tells you he is debating whether or not you are telling the truth. You are a witness testifying on the stand, and Namor is your judge and jury.

“Well, that is twice now you have saved my people. Again you have my gratitude." He says with a sigh, his expression softening.

You give a small smile, but it disappears when an unrelenting ache pounds inside your head, pulling you out of the moment. You reach up to rub your temple and suddenly feel a surge of pain coming from your hand, instantly reminding you of the injury you sustained from your face off against one of the agents on the beach.

“Shit,” You exclaim, pulling your cut, bloodied palm away from your face and looking at it.

"Here," Namor says, grabbing the roll of gauze off your kitchen counter as he moves in your direction. Pulling up a chair, he sits down directly in front of you so your knees are practically touching. He gestures for your hand. “May I?"

You consider his offer as you stare at the thick veins protruding from his forearm, binding themselves to his defined muscles like vines around a tree. Eyes darting back up to his, you cautiously nod your head to accept his help while simultaneously extending your arm to him.

Namor takes your injured hand gently in his own, cradling it as if it could shatter into a million pieces. Amazed by how his hand dwarfs yours, you feel a surge of energy in your chest when his thumb begins to rub along your wrist. He takes the roll of gauze and begins carefully wrapping it around your palm.

Calmly maneuvering each layer of the bandage, Namor's brow furrows ever so slightly as he slips deeper into a state of concentration. His grasp is firm but gentle, rotating your hand in tandem with the bandage and you take comfort in his touch.

Studying his face, you admire each feature and detail closely. You see the traces of salt against the rich tones of his skin, and soon your willpower gives way to a desire slowly being coaxed inside you as you allow your eyes to trail from his face to his broad shoulders, down his muscular biceps, and finally to his strong hands as they work to take care of you.

Namor begins humming softly as he continues wrapping your hand. There's a warm timbre in his voice that resonates in your ears, drawing your gaze back up to his face.

"That song..." your voice trails off as you grow more entranced by it, unable to find the words to describe its intoxicating melody. But a surge of fear runs through you as you recall another tune, the one from the beach, its haunting cadence prickling the back of your mind.

"My people have many songs," Namor says in a tone equally rich to his humming, calming you instantly. "Each one with a meaning and purpose."

"What is the purpose of that one?" You ask quietly.

Namor’s hands stop as his eyes wander up to yours.

"It's a lullaby, meant to bring the soul peace." His eyes flutter back down as he resumes wrapping the bandage around your hand. "My mother would sing it to me when I was a child."

"It's beautiful." You say reverently.

A smile spreads across Namor's face, but there's a hint of sadness in it. He leans down to your hand and you can feel your heart beat faster as his mouth hovers mere inches above your skin. The warmth of his breath rushes against your wrist, sending shivers through you. With great care, he tears the gauze with his teeth before tucking the loose end into a fold of the bandage.

"It is," he agrees, staring down at your hand which he now holds carefully between his own. "Especially in a world where peace is scarcely found."

His voice is gentle, but there is a bitterness brewing beneath the statement.

"I have spent my life ensuring peace for my people. Protecting it. Preserving it."

Namor looks back up at you, letting go of your hand as he sits up straighter in his chair. The room is quiet as his words sink in and you drop your gaze to think. As you do so, your good free hand migrates to the leather book still tucked in your waistband, your fingers fiddling with the binding.

“What is it?” Namor asks, snapping your eyes back up to his. You swallow nervously, unsure if you should share what is on your mind. Then again, you may not get another opportunity.

Slowly, you pull the book out from against your side, opening it to its marked page before pushing it across the table to him.

“You say you’ve spent your entire life protecting your people.” You preface, hesitating a moment before asking your question. “Is that... you?"

Namor stares at the book in front of him, tracing the outline of his likeness delicately on the open page with his fingertips.

"A version of me." He answers.

"How...." you rub your temple as you do the unnecessary math in your head, already knowing the hundreds of years difference between the book and the man in front of you doesn't add up. "How is that even possible? That book is centuries old, I mean," you are at a loss trying to wrap your head around it all, coming up short with any logical explanation, “who are you?"

Namor looks up at you, then his gaze descends back onto the open book. He gives a sad smirk.

“You are one of very few to ever ask who I am instead of what I am." He strokes his jaw with his thumb and forefinger. "The answer to neither of which will be found in your book." He says, shutting it and sliding it back toward you. You reach for it, only he doesn’t take his hand off the leather cover right away.

"You must always be weary of your authors.” He warns. “The preservation of one's opinion over time does not make it fact, no matter how long ago it was written."

He relinquishes his hold, you finish sliding the book back to your side of the table. Namor searches your face as his eyebrows pull closer together, a rare look of vulnerability in his eyes.

"I wear the mantle of king and am the protector of my people.” He begins. “They are my responsibility by birthright, a charge I’ve dedicated my entire life to upholding.”

Namor proceeds to tell you the story of his people — how they were driven from their home by Spanish conquistadors, and how their gods provided a remedy for a foreign disease that led them to seek sanctuary in the ocean itself. He explains that his mother was among them, pregnant with Namor at the time, and how the remedy herb altered his very being in the womb. Mutant is the word he uses, the reason for his strength and abilities, as well as his slow aging. He then describes the horrors he had seen upon returning his mother’s body to the surface world after her death, and the vow he took to keep outsiders away from his people and his beloved city he calls Talokan.

"So you see," he says leaning forward as he places his forearms on his knees, his face even closer to yours now, "I am no god. Nor am I a man. What I am is a leader who loves his people. If that makes me a monster, so be it. I will see the world burn before I subject my people to its sins and savagery.”

It’s a lot to take in. You study Namor’s expression as his stare now lingers away from you, his mind somewhere in the past. You can’t even begin to comprehend all that he has seen or experienced, but you do feel a clearer understanding of why he is the way he is. Filled with compassion for him, you cautiously reach up and cradle his face with your non-bandaged hand.

"You're not a monster." You reassure him gently.

This brings Namor’s attention back to you immediately, his dark eyes searching your face earnestly as he takes a deep breath through his nose. The bristles of his scruff are rough against your palm, creating a warm friction when he leans into your touch. Namor closes his eyes and lets out a sigh so deep it's as if he's releasing a weight from his shoulders, one that he has been carrying for far too long. His hand comes up to cover yours, pressing it deeper against his cheek.

“K’uk’ulkan,” a voice calls from behind you. You drop your hand back down to your lap as Namor glances over your shoulder. The man with the metal hammerhead skull stands at attention in the front doorway, his body so large it consumes the space entirely. Namor nods at him, then looks back at you.

"It's time," he says, pushing himself up to his feet. “More men will be coming. Namora is outside — collect what you need quickly, she will take you to a safe place.”

The realization sets in, and your heart sinks. Your home is no longer safe and you can’t stay here.

Namor offers you his hand, helping you out of your chair and onto your feet. In doing so, he pulls you into him and tucks his hand delicately under your chin. He’s impossibly close as he tilts your face upward toward his own.

"I am sorry." He whispers, a soft and apologetic tone in his voice. He gives you a remorseful look, but all you can think about is how little space currently exists between his lips and yours. Namor’s gaze flutters down from your eyes to your mouth, but the moment is fleeting as he drops his hand from your chin and takes a step back.

“Go.” He says, encouraging you to get your things. It’s his last word before walking past you and exiting out the front door.

Left alone in the empty bungalow, you make your way over to your bag still on the floor from earlier that evening. You take it and march into your room, grabbing some clothes, your toothbrush, and other small essentials. You don't have much in terms of possessions in the first place, so it doesn’t take long for you to collect what you need.

As you exit your bedroom, you get ready to leave when you look over at the small book on your table. Namor insisted it held no answers for you, but you go to retrieve it anyway, stuffing it in your bag along with the rest of your belongings.

You take one last look around your home, once an unfamiliar broken place that over time became your haven and sanctuary. It breaks your heart to leave, but you know you must.

“Thank you,” you quietly whisper to the room, hoping in some way its energy or spirit or anything can hear you. You make your final exit, walking out to the front porch just as the dawn is starting to break over the horizon. Warm hues cast shadows of orange and red across the island, and you breathe in the early morning air. As you look out across the beach, you are surprised by what little evidence remains of the night’s events. No bodies. No fires. Just large divots in the sand and some smoke along the tree line from a few singed palms.

Namora is standing at the edge of the pathway leading to your porch, waiting for you. Descending the stairs, nerves prompt you to tighten your grip on the shoulder strap of your bag as you brace yourself for the unknown.

“I’m ready,” you say when you reach her.

Namora looks at you seriously, then nods her head. Reaching up to her face, she carefully removes the apparatus from over her nose and mouth. It is the first time you have seen her whole face, unobstructed by the peculiar covering. She’s just as striking without it, and you notice a beautiful jade ring pierced through her septum, echoing Namor’s. She turns the mask in her hand and guides it onto your face, sealing it against your skin.

“Come,” she tells you, turning toward the ocean.

You take one last look back at your home, then fall into stride behind Namora as the two of you walk into the water.

-- -- --

Tag List (I think this is how you do it? Sorry if not, still figuring this whole Tumblr-thing out): @looneylikesbooks @omgsuperstarg @chixkencxrry @vainillasmil157 @demoiseller @sodonuthideout @shoutaaizawas @stany0url0calwh0res111 @hjjks @duckwithsunglasses

#namor #namor x reader #namor x you #namor x gen!reader #Namor x y/n #mcu namor #namor fluff #namor fanfiction #namor fanfic #namor imagine #k'uk'ulkan #black panther wakanda forever #namora #namor of talokan #Wakanda forever #fanfiction

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jasmindoodles · 1 year

Text

Here it is!

Namor and shuri staying up most of the night trying to ease their baby girl to sleep, only for them to sit outside near the rivers edge even tho you can’t see it as the sound of the waters soothes their daughter.

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syrma-sensei · 1 year

Text

→ Love Underwater.

gif credit.

pairing: namor of talokan x queen!reader.

rating: fluff.

warning: spoilers for black panther: wakanda forever.

The King lets out a light grunt when you slip his large necklace off after you took his cape off of his shoulders, revealing the gills on the two crooks of his neck. He tilts his head, cracking the bones of his neck, and you giggle when his lips graze the knuckles of your fingers. Then, you click each of his arm bracelets open, removing and putting them on the adorned tray for the servants to pick up later when you're done.

You massage the muscles of his arms and shoulders, and he groans approvingly. Hands trailing down to his abdomen, unclasping his large belt from around his refined waist. You never let the servants undress the King when he retires to his chambers; a job you've taken it upon yourself since the day you married the King of Talokan; a sweet and intimate gesture of a wife to her husband. When you're done, Ku'kul'kan whisks you playfully to his lap while he's sitting on the large bed. He kisses your neck fondly, while you kiss the crown of his head, then you rest your cheek on his shoulder.

“Namora came to me today, my love.” You say idly, “Again.”

“Oh,” He raises an eyebrow, “Did she?”

“Yes.” You answer, drawing your head back so you can look at his face, “She's expressed her worry about you, my King.”

The latter regards you with gentle eyes, “And you share the same sentiment as well?”

You cup his cheek, your palm pressing lightly on the three marks left by the three scars.

In the recent weeks, the King has spent most of his time drawing the murals at his memorabilia cave —his sacred shrine as you call it— where you're used to watch him flicking his brush nimbly against the wall, recoding history. The latest of his works is The Battle Between The Serpent God and the Black Panther, the first time your husband lost.

“Our King chose peace over slaughter.” You told Namora, when came to you sulking, in her rough way of speeech, about her king cousin, your husband. The seasoned warrioress still can't digest the defeat of Talokan — of her king... god. In all honesty, neither could you, but as the queen, it's your duty to calm your subjects' qualms down, even if you have some of your own.

You glance down at his wrapped ankle, the slightest frown on your face; you've never seen your husband wounded in such a grotesque way. Despite your displeasure, the King seems to wear it with pride. Your eyes flit back to his face again.

“I did.” You answer frankly, “But not anymore. My trust in your judgement never wavers, my King.”

Ku'kul'kan cradles your cheeks in his warm hands, pressing a smooth kiss on your forehead, “Sometimes, I wish they had a piece of your wisdom, my love.”

You hold his hands, pressing kisses to his palms. “You flatter me, my King.”

“I only speak the truth, my Queen.” He smiles, thumbs gently stroking your cheeks.

Even after hundred years of marriage, you can't prevent the blush from smearing your cheeks red, and your husband laughs, flicking your cheek with his fingers.

“But the Panther Princess ought to be true to her words.” You say stubbornly. “Should she break them, and I'll be the one to bring her head on a spike,”

Ku'kul'kan smiles. “I'm counting on that.”

#namor x you #namor x reader #namor smut #tenoch huerta namor #namor fluff #namor x y/n #namor imagine #namor fic #namor fanfiction #namor of talokan #ku'kul'kan #namor #mcu namor #tenoch huerta #black panther wakanda forever #namor mcu #kukulkan x you #kukulkan x reader #kukulkan

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usagii-bun · 1 year

Text

𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐀𝐄𝐓𝐇 ( NAMOR X READER ) PT.4

in which you find a child floating in the water and you save them only for your acts of kindness to get misinterpreted by the father who is also the king of an underwater civilization.

PLEASE READ THIS FIRST : this is a story i am writing on wattpad but my wattpad version is more in detail, slightly different and has an oc ( alora ). It has 6 chapters thus far and still work in progress if you want you can check it out with the link below or use the linktree link in my bio to access wattpad but if you feel more comfortable with x reader I'll try and get all the chapters I have currently published over here in a few days

hiraeth ( namor ) wattpad | oc version!

PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3 , PART 4

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comment if you want to be apart of the tag list or set a notification to get updates when I post ! every like, share and reblog is highly appreciated, tysm 🤍

IT WAS NOW EVENING, the sun dipping below the horizon kissing the ocean goodbye, the sky a purplish-orange color adorn with a few grey clouds as Huracan and you were still outside enjoying the last bits of the day before it was time to go back in.

You had came to term with the fact that Huracan staying with you was only going to be momentarily. You grew attached to the child due to the loneliness that you felt from staying by herself for months in isolation, away from others due to your health issues.

You wondered if Huracan was also lonely and just wanted some company but your mind now questioning if Huracan has a family, what if they are waiting for him? Worried about him and in search of him, thinking of the worst things that could have happened to him. This left you to ruminate over

your thoughts as your gaze fall on the sky, that is becoming darker and darker.

There was thunder clouds looming above you due to the hot weather you experienced today, the clouds were forming and becoming aggravated with each second that passed by— this alarming you as you walk back to the tidal pool to retrieve Huracan and putting a stop to your fleeting thoughts.

"C'mon, Hura. We need to get back in." You say, watching as the boy breaks through the surface of the water— eyes sparkling with life as he listens to you instantly, emerging from the pool only to latch onto your arm, his skin turning back into a shade of blue as you both walk home.

The rain came down. It suddenly came down heavy causing you to gasp in shock when the harsh rain pelted down onto you, you turn towards Huracan to notice that he had his eyes closed— enjoying the rain water that got soaked into his skin while you on the other hand felt a shiver tingling down your spine even though the air was warm.

Knowing that if you had to stay in the rain for way too long— you would definitely get sick but watching the boy enjoy the fresh water that falls onto him , you decided to wait a few minutes because seeing his face brighten up from just the simple feeling of rain water against his skin made you realize that the simple things in life is what makes living much better, it made you feel at ease with yourself.

A bright flash of purple and then a loud crackling noise followed by a hiss came from above you and Huracan shocks you at the loud noise and the thunderstorm that has finally brewed up, the rain became even heavier causing your heart to beat faster.

"Let's get back inside, we don't want to become fried fish today." You say, laughing at your lame excuse of a joke which Huracan didn't understand fully but he did understand that you wanted to go back inside from the way your body had stiffened slightly.

He was about to agree but then the sight of a shiny, shell that was a bit closer to the ocean water grabs his attention— he wanted to get that shell so that he could give it to you, forgetting that you wanted to go back in as he leaves your side, alarming you as he runs down the bank to go and retrieve the shell.

"Huracan!" You shout out alarmed, the rain pelting down heavily, the sky above you becoming dark— the only source of light now coming from the lighting that viciously flashed from above and the few outside lights from your house.

You slide down the steep slope to get to the boy only for your flip-flop to get stuck into something and in turn crashing into the youngster causing him to also fall and let out a small yelp.

"oh gosh, Hura! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to!" You cried out, you moved to his side to see that you had slightly bruised his knee cap, crimson escaping from the bruise as guilt consumes you from being so unconscious and not watching where you walked.

Huracan didn't feel much pain from the small bruise, he was about to tell you it's okay but you tore a small part of your shirt to help stop the bleeding. A small amount of blood covered your finger tips when you wrapped the small piece of cloth around his tiny knee cap, tightening the cloth around it.

A throbbing feeling around your ankle became prominent as you gazes down at your leg, to find that you had slightly twisted your ankle due to your flip-flop getting stuck onto something— that being the whole reason you slipped.

A small cry leaves from your parted lips, the thunderstorm viciously going on above them as the rain fell down. Your body was drenched in rain water, making you shiver adding more to the pain you felt in your ankle.

"Y-Y/N!" the young child cried out grasping onto your shoulders, he gazed at you to find that tears were also trailing down your cheeks with the rain water, your hands covered in wet sea sand and dabs of blood.

This made tears to form in Huracan's eyes, he was now scared and worried about you, the person that took care of him like he was their own child— he didn't know what to do to help you, making him feel even more worried and scared as the thunder flashed and rumbled.

Your body that trembled suddenly went stiff, your blood running cold— you felt like you and Huracan were being watched.

You were right.

The sound of something fluttering, similar to the sound of a rattle snake mingled with the harsh noises of the rain, lightning and the waves that crashed close by.

The fluttering sound stops , it suddenly goes eeirely quite, Huracan's whimpers go silent and before you could comprehend whether you was just feeling paranoid —something grasped the collar of the shirt you wore and pulled you harshly away from Huracan, throwing you to the other side away from him.

You heard Huracan scream your name out, your body feeling extremly numb, the world around you spinning while terror sunk into every firbe of your being.

Your neck twists to the side to see what had thrown you so viciously away from Huracan, fear laminating in your eyes, your gaze being met with the tip of a sharp spear, your body flinching away from it in terror but it was now pressed against the side of your neck in a threatening manner to slice your head off clean.

The lightning struck again, giving you a better vision of what was being hostile towards you , your eyes widening when your gaze falls on a man— his entire being radiate regality from the way his body oozed confidence to the jewelry that was adorn upon him. His chest covered in some sort of metal that was beautiful crafted, the same type of metal also adorning his biceps and wrists.

She also noticed that he had pointed ears, adorn with jewels just like the rest of him.

You shakily raise your hands, to say you was no threat or harm but this act seemed to make the man even more infuriated when he spotted dabs of blood smeared on your finger tips and then seeing blood around the area where Huracan was.

"How dare you take my son away and harm him?"

Shit. Was the first thought that came to your mind, you was right, Huracan did have someone to go back to— your thoughts being cut short when the cold tip of the spear pressed even closer to your neck that you could feel the pressure tearing slightly into your skin.

Your words were stuck in your throat from fear, you couldn't formulate a response except for a shaky breath to escape past your lips, your body trembling from pain and fear.

Due to your lack of response that made the King even more agitated, his spear was about to press into the side of your neck but tiny hands wrapped around his arm, holding it in place before he could slash at you.

"Father, please don't!" the young child cried out in his own language, this alerting the king who turns towards his son— the furious look that had adorn his face moments ago was replaced by one that was filled with worry.

"Huracan, my child. Are you alright? Did it hurt you?" his voice venomous when he says the word it , you didn't understand what they were saying but from the side glare the man had passed to you, you knew he had said something about you.

"No! Do not bring harm to y/n, she had saved me! Please do not harm her, she didn't do anything wrong. If you want to punish someone, father— it should be me, I should have never left Talokan." The boy sobs out, hearing Huracan's broken voice made your chest hurt— your eyes squeezing shut to prevent any tears from escaping as everything around you started to spin, the world around you becoming blurry as all the pain you felt physically and emotionally became blunt.

Your vision being filled with black dots that became larger until your eyes closed completely, body slumping into the sand— the fear you felt along with the pain made you fall unconscious this grabbing Huracan's attention, the boy letting go of his father's arm to rush towards you.

A cry leaves past his parted lips, his hands reached out to hug your cold body against his.

"Look what you have done, father. You killed her!" The boy says inbetween sobs, you was far from dead but to Huracan seeing your still body, no warm smile on your face and your eyes that twinkled with care and affection was no longer there— you looked dead to him.

K'uk'ulkan looked down at you. His son held onto you so gently, the rain easing down — the thunderstorm slowly clearing up.

"Hura.. she's not dead." The king says while his inner voice says 'well not yet'. He didn't trust you, this human but the way his son held onto you like his own life depended on you— he could not just kill you after he found out you had saved his son.

"You have to help her then or else I'll hate you forever." Huracan suddenly spat out— eyes shining bright with anger and saddness, his words stung K'uk'ulkan , his heart aching at the words his son spewed at him. An expression of hurt forms on K'uk'ulkan's face, a soft sigh leaving past his lips.

He glances down at your unconscious form that laid on the sand, his son's words floating around in his mind. He bends down towards you, taking in your features— noticing your skin has gotten paler and your ankle was swelling.

He was not keen on helping you, a surface dweller, he had hate for these disparage creatures but seeing how his son has become attached to you, clinging. He couldn't just kill you.

With one last glance towards your unconscious body, he looks back towards the raging ocean as he signals for Namora to come to him. He turns away and looks down at his son, his heart softening when he sees the tears on his cheeks as he sighs lightly.

'I'm only doing this for you my child.'

PART 5

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creamecafe · 1 year

Text

Navigation | Fic Recommendations

Welcome to my Namor Fic Recommendations! Here are fanfics of Namor recommended by me if you have trouble finding good ones to read!

Also not to mention, please show love to these amazing writers who take time out of their day and have worked hard to make these amazing pieces by following, reblogging, and liking their posts!

Majority of them will be from Tumblr, but also those highlighted in Orange are from Wattpad and Red from AO3 (Archive of Our Own)

Also feel free to send Namor fics that you find amazing to read. Send it to my inbox with the link or @ of the author and I'll go check it out to see to add the list!

*Note: This post will be posted frequently as I try to find more Namor fics. I can't find them all at once*

Key:

Fluff - 💓

Angst - 💔

Angst with a happy ending - ❤️‍🩹

Trigger Warning - ⚠️ (Suicide, Self-harm, etc)

I don't want you to die 💔❤️‍🩹⚠️ (@theduskladyishereforyou)

Imagine saying goodbye to Wakanda and leaving with Namor for Talokan 💔❤️‍🩹 (@writingintheshadowsforever )

Cuddling with Namor Headcanon 💓 (@demigoddessqueens)

Until The Waves Call Me Home 💓 (@harrysweasleys )

My Queen, My Sun and My Sea 💔 (@mooncleaver )

Helping Namor Back To The Water 💓 (@little-sablelo )

Baby, all at once, this is enough 💓 (@thegreatestsandwich )

Namor's Favorite Sleeping Positions 💓 (@namorwife)

Namor Being Jealous 💓 (@dino-fart)

Kukulkan x history teacher! reader 💔❤️‍🩹 (@ransprang)

Imagine putting up Christmas decorations with Namor 💓 (@writingintheshadowsforever)

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starshooter-1004 · 1 year

Text

Lullaby

ART IS NOT MINE!

Masterlist

@deliciousfestsalad

The midwives gently placed me into the water as my contractions got closer and stronger. They soothed me with words in Mayan as I squeezed their hands. Namor hadn’t arrive back yet, but I had a guard know to spread the word to him immediately. The guard placed a shell into the water after blowing into it. The pain was intense I let go of their hands to submerged myself beneath the water.

Closing my eyes I let myself breathe the oxygen of the ocean; having the water caress me and my child.With a boom I felt Namor entering the water; soon he was at my back allowing me to lean into him. His hands on my stomach rubbing soothing circles as his whispered me soothing words. Soon the intensity came too ahead with long strong pushes our child was born. The midwife smiled placing the child into my arms; Namor’s hands holding my arms as my body relaxed.

Our child was like anything I have seen before; beautiful amber eyes like me and dark skin from both myself and their father. They had pointed ears like Namor, but no feathers on their ankles. Namor kissed the crown of my head a sob escaped me; holding my child tighter to me. Exhaustion soon took over and I grew weak; in a change of clothes Namor lifted me from the waters. Our child still in my arms as he laid me down in bed; our child laying next to me wrapped in a blanket of green and blue.

I heard a stir next to me sometime later that night; sleep had consumed me shortly after the delivery. I moved my hand to find our child and soothe them; when I felt an empty space my heart dropped. Quickly sitting up I heard a coo again looking to other side of the hut, There I saw Namor holding our child rocking and swaying. The child’s hands reaching for his face; its feet kicking as Namor hummed a lullaby.

I recognized the similar tune and laid back down smiling. Here the king with the most powerful nation crumbles to a child. I watched as Namor stood there with our child; taking in every moment with them as he could. I knew he would be busy tomorrow morning. I didn’t make much of a fuss about the child needing rest and allowed him to continue.

Namor walked back over to the bed sitting up against the head board. I scooted over to place my head on his chest as his arm enveloped me; the other holding our child.

“You did wonderful Ni Yakunaj,” he whispered placing a kiss to my head. I smiled looking up at him kissing his lips.

“Thank you,” I said. Our child soon went back to sleep and Namor and I laid there in silence as we watched them sleep. How something so beautiful could be brought into this world truly is a miracle. I wouldn’t trade moments like this for the world; nor share it with anyone else.

#namor x y/n #namor imagine #namor x reader #black panther namor marvel imagines #marvel imagine #marvel #namor fluff #namor of talokan #talokan

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rokuhoku · 1 year

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

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demigoddessqueens · 1 year

Text

wedding and marriage headcanons

I just love this man so much!! Still gonna write for him

Being married to Namor would include….

He adores you! A wedding ceremony is the epitome of elegant and exquisite to your liking

Namor swears he wasn’t crying at your wedding but you could see the gleam of emotion shining through when you came to stand by his side.

Don’t even get started on how his voice and words are weighed the heaviest with emotion as he crowns you a fellow ruler of Talokan.

If you’re a fellow mutant, Namor presents a custom made wedding gift that goes with your abilities or matches your powers.

If you’re from Wakanda, or a member of the Wakandan family or leadership, it’s a huge event with all in attendance. Though it may have a political nature, he’s never been happier to be wed to you.

The portrait in his (now yours) main chambers displays him and you together

Post wedding, the honeymoon is one that is entirely blissful and intimate. There’s never a dull moment and Namor is constantly affectionate

Married life is the same way as well, but with a few more responsibilities tagged along.

Still you two are a dynamic duo. Your love for each other shines through in all that you do, that even others are inspired.

There are never fights, mostly disagreements. You both can be stubborn but you work through it.

Namor is subtly affectionate in public with brief touches and hand holding. But behind closed doors, it’s an affectionate over flowing with “I missed you”

Every so often you’ll find a gift or trinket in your study or shared chambers that makes you smile.

All in all, a 100000/10 husband 💕💞!!

#marveledit #my writing #headcanons #namor headcanons #tenoch huerta #namor black panther wakanda forever #tenoch huerta mejia #namor x poc!reader #namor x wakanda!reader #namor imagine #k’uk’ulkan x y/n #namor x y/n #k’uk’ulkan x you #namor x reader #k’uk’ulkan x reader #namor x you #namor x mutant!reader #namor of talokan #namor fluff

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mooncleaver · 1 year

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To Live Fully Is to Live With Love

this sweet, passionate and blazing side of namor is only reserved for you, and your defiant detour to a fight with the surface dwellers seems to bring the most out of his fretful heart.

pairings: namor x fem!talokan!reader

warning: descriptions of blood and injury, worrywart husband namor, eh mid writing, CANON DIVERGENT!!

notes: another part of my talokan!queen reader series!! so this obviously is a little prequel to this fic. but def can be read as a standalone :D

"I told you not to come this time, in amado. I knew you could get hurt and here you are now," he said sternly, reprimanding your actions just a few moments ago when you swam along the talokanil warriors, brandishing your own embellished spear to protect your kingdom's vibranium source. The surface dwellers have gotten much more advanced with their weapons over the last years you've encountered them, now with an artillery of ones more deadly, with technology that could bring down the world if it were to be held in the wrong hands. When they had proceeded with their own attacks, you defiantly climbed up their ship despite Namora's fervent warnings against it, ending up with a gun wound when you got back to Talokan.

To you it was just a stray bullet grazing the skin of your thighs, the wound easily mended with some salve and a touch of your enforced regeneration abilities. But to Namor.. oh to Namor it was as if they had committed the most heinous of crimes against you, the shallow cut like a valley of bleeding carmine. And of course you understood where he came from. He was always protective of you in one way or another, never not keeping a vigilant eye on you; it was one of his ways of showing you his love and as much as it could be a bit much sometimes, you always appreciated the gesture.

So here you were now, swimming around your home with a bandaged wrapped around your thigh, the crimson blooming onto the alabaster stripes to remind you of your.. minor, incident.

"I know you said that with the intentions to keep me safe, but I refuse to stay back knowing I could offer them another pair of hands to fight, I'm sorry." You could only stare at the floor, your stubborn heart proving itself fickle once again at juggling the dilemma of justifying your actions and defying your husband's one request. On one hand it had made you so determined and resolute when you thought about absolutely obliterating any surface dwellers who even dared to touch a hair on your people and a single stroke of vibranium, but also.. it pained you to make your husband so disheartened. And you knew he did it out of love, and that made it all the more defeated.

If there was one thing about you, you would always fight for what you thought was right—for the benefit of everyone's safety—even if it meant hurting yourself or being brash and spontaneous. You wouldn't for a second catch yourself endangering any of your people and loved ones; you'd be dead before you backed out of a fight you could easily help in.

"They are strong, I'm aware my king.. but it hurts me to know they must suffer for even just a second." The wellbeing of your people has always been that tender spot in your heart. From the moment you saw just how much they have fought and paid for their freedom, their lives have been something of a pulsing spirit in you, entangling every word you say, every move you brandished; it was all so you and the Talokanil could keep what was rightfully yours all along. Only you would know how much it pained you to see familiar faces on bedrest, their restless—sometimes defeated—faces engraining itself in your head. And of course, you knew your people were stronger than the average warrior. One stray bullet wouldn't kill them immediately, and a striking slash on their skin would only wound them for a few moments, but knowing that you could have done something—could have been there at that moment with them, preventing them from even being touched by a sliver of a bullet or a knife—it made you frustrated. At yourself and at the cruel world.

"They- they have families, children, parents, sisters and brothers waiting for them.. I couldn't bare it to see the devastation again." The last word ringed in his head, reminding him that you too, faced your own share of weighty grief, a kind that would slowly deter one should they be exposed to it for over millennia. It's the guilt of having someone's life in your hands.

And right after that flash of vulnerability you broke, looking up at him with eyes that were wide—almost innocent with a certain naivety—all tainted with affliction and ardor that could not only be delineated as the love of her queen to her people. Her family. "Taak in yaantal ti' tu yiknal leti'ob.. taak in we'esik chan juntúul bey kaajal."

(I want to be with them.. I want to show that we are one as a people.)

You were always bad at hiding what your heart truly wanted. It was something that Namor admired about you; despite how much you try to put on a strong and regal facade for the sake of your kingdom, your compassion and devotion would always win at the end, welting through the hardened walls like a blazing shooting star in the stygian sky. That was what made you such an admirable ruler and woman, because you learnt how to exist between the lines of politics and heart, always wielding your emotions to be something more powerful than any crown or medals that decorated a royal's figure. You never forgot who you are and what you stood for, knowing just how to conduct yourself as if all your past experiences and everything you had learnt continues to live inside of you.

"As their queen-"

"As my wife you should know I can't sit back and watch you fall. Wherever I am you know I would stop the world from spinning to come to you. Losing you.. losing you is something I never want to think about." Namor cut you off, finally holding you in his arms. At the end of the day—without the titles or how long you have lived—you two were just people in love, looking after one another despite the disappointment or irritation. His voice practically trembling with a copious amount of concern and you're reminded of just how much you have to lose.

You weren't like you were back then when you were younger, naive and free of responsibility, not yet discovering the absolute euphoria of loving someone. But now you have your life partner and a kingdom to watch over, the people living in it coming in tail too.

Namor gave you his gaze now, fully and truly as his eyes clashed with your own emotion-ridden one and you couldn't help but dance in the torrid currents billowing in his. He slipped the palms of his hands between your neck and the side of your face, brushing his thumbs below the waterline of your eyes, back to the peak of your cheeks and your temples. "You have me, in puksi'ik'al. I'm always waiting for you right here."

And you couldn't help but close your eyes and clutch the soft cape he was wearing over the half of his body, holding onto it so tightly as if it was your lifeline, because of the words he had just said to you.. they pierced your heart in the most beautiful way.

Somehow.. somehow he always knew what to say. In every situation his words rung out like the melody of a song, sometimes riddled with jagged knives that could splinter through the toughest minds, or sometimes like the feathers that adorned his headpiece, so much softer than the clouds that you have grazed with the tips of your fingers, calming like a breathe of fresh wind.

He gently nudged your face back to his,—an arm never leaving its rightful place around your waist—gaze so close that you could see every bit of umber and brown in his eyes, the gentle singed specks in his irises dotted like the milky way, every gleam and glisten of the water reflecting on the salient expanse of his skin.

"For millennia I have searched for that missing piece of my heart. The one that has only ever beat for my people, for my mother and for Talokan. I've given myself to protect those who cannot, to give them the sun when all they've ever seen was the darkened trails of the moon." A quiet brush from the back of his fingers grazed your cheeks as he continued,

"But you.. you are the one my restless heart calls out to."

A warm wave of his breathe brushed your face and you felt just how powerful his words were—like he was baring his entire heart vulnerable right in front of you. It was so peaceful, to hear it pulsing around you, urging you to float still, becoming one with the home you found in Namor.

"I can't lose you, in reina. You are the piece that I was always meant to find. Kin ts'áik ti' teech le ujo' yéetel le eek'o'obo' wa quisieras, in yakunaj."

(I will give you the moon with the stars if you want, my love.)

The sweet breathe of release you experienced was something you would live for again and again if it meant you could hear those heartfelt words from him, to hear his passion and his ferocity in loving you as if you were the most brilliant piece of diamond in his eyes, as if he would lose apart of himself if he ever let you go. You gave him an airy chuckle as you shook your head lightly, reaching your hands up to encase his face between your hands, looking up as you fiddled with the tapered tip of his ears.

"You know I don't want the moon, the stars, or the entire constellation. All I want is you. That is infinitely more than enough to me."

And at that moment the feathered serpent god couldn't help but relish the sense of pride surging through his veins; the feeling that you were standing in front of him, right here right now and for however long you chose to love him, being the one he gets to call his love, his heart and his entire world.

You were the moon to his sea, the one that calls out to his tides with your beautiful song. When he found you, miraculously catching your gaze in the middle of the buzzing sea he felt as if he'd finally opened his eyes. To open his eyes and see just how beautiful the world could be. How radiant his life could be when he let the love spill out from his hardened heart. He has been living for his people and the legacy of the battles they've fought for so long that in the middle of it all, Namor forgot what it was like to live for himself too. And you were the one to reignite that light inside of him, with your soft smile and your searing soul, you'd awoken something long buried under a mountain of grief and anger and with you by his side, the king of Talokan has flourished so magnificently, centuries to come with a scorching brilliance of hope at the end of it.

"In yaakunech, amal xéet' ta."

(I love you, every piece of you.)

"Yéetel in yaakunech, K'uk'ulkan. Tak tu xul."

(And I love you, K'uk'ulkan. Until the end.)

OMMMLGJFHD the dialogue really brought my emotions out like i was screaming crying making this..

anyway i do feel like this is really subpar, but i wanted to post it because despite my silly little writers block i still enjoyed writing this story. and i hate seeing it sitting in my drafts.

+ for all my talokan queen fics, i imagine they speak in yucatec mayan, however im not able to translate everything into the language, but u get the idea!

once again i apologize if there are mistakes in the translations. please tell me if i have to change something :D

#i think im just kinda over him for now 😭#like i didnt mean for it to be so short #but i loved loving him #hopefully i can write for him again in the future!#namor x reader #namor imagine #namor the sub mariner #namor x y/n #namor angst #namor fluff #black panther wakanda forever #black panther #tenoch huerta #talokan #marvel #mcu x reader #marvel x reader #you can really tell how the quality declined the more i write..

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thegreatestsandwich · 1 year

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i LOVE your namor fics and how soft you portray him! i dont even want kids but they got me looking up baby videos on tiktok 😂😂 i was wondering if i could request? i like to imagine namor spending some time in the surface world with reader, maybe something showing him being domestic? im sorry im not very creative lol im sure you know what im getting at. thank you so much!! 🫡🥰

When the sun came up, you were looking at me (Namor x F!reader)

Masterlist

Pairing: Namor x F!reader

Word count: 1.4k

Summary: He showed you a part of himself he chose to hide from the others.

Warning: Nothing really, well I really don’t think there is a warning, just fluff or my idea of fluff

A/N: I'm back!

Coments, Reblogs and Asks are happily received!

You clenched the basket you were carrying, your knuckles white and your breath locked in your lungs as you made your way towards your king’s cavern. You were nervous and afraid, you barely made it through the soft current that guide you upwards, if it was for another reason you would be thrilled to see him. But when the message came from Attuma, his second in command, that changed everything.

You let out your breath when you almost got out of the water, one of your hands quickly went to dig out your mask from the basket you were carrying, quickly putting it on and adjusting it correctly before finally stepping out of the water.

This wasn’t the first time you were invited to his cavern, you were designated to bring him some food if he spent the majority of his time here. Your eyes quickly adjusted to the cold air that surrounded you. Quickly blinking away some tears that formed when your eyes became a little too dry. Your hands hugged the basket closer to your body as you slowly walked to the entrance. Even if you hadn’t yet to enter, you could still distinguish his figure, his focus away from you.

You stretched your shoulders, stopping at the entrance, it had been a few days since Attuma had delivered the message, you knew you needed to see him as quickly as possible but you managed to postponed it, until the older women forced you to finally confront the king.

Your hand knocked against the stone wall, the softest sound that made the king stopped his actions to turned and put his attention on your figure. You swallowed when his intense dark eyes greeted you.

“Ta p'ataj a k'iin.” You took your time. He stood up, silently putting his tools on the ground before making his way to you. “Ts'o'ok in pensado u ma' ten taal.” I have thought you were not coming.

Your eyes stayed glued to your basket, too afraid to even look at him. “In akaljantik.” I’m sorry. You gulped. “In akaljantik, K'uk'ulkan, ma' táan u yúuchul.” I’m sorry, K’uk’ulkan, it won’t happened again.

He hummed, his hands went to your jaw, gently caressing it before softly guiding your gaze to look at him, you were hoping to find anger on his eyes, but you almost gasp at how gentle they were. “A llamé waye' tumen ba'al, chan.” I called you here for something, little one. “Ba'al Páaybe'en.” Something important.

Namor’s hands let your face for a moment, his form fully turn away from you, leaving you a bit confuse. He walked towards one of the several baskets, pulling out a small yellow flower. Your eyes widened in fear, fully knowing where it come from. He turned to you, the flower firmly on his fist, his dark eyes were inspecting it and the silence made you tremble with fear.

“Namora ka tu kaxtaj ti' a ba'alo'ob,” Namora found it on your things. He didn’t look at you, his fingers playing with the several petals that covered it. “Le ba'ala' ma' pertenece u k noj, u tsool, chan.” This does not belong in our city, explain, little one.

A sick feeling filled your stomach as you clutched the basket closer to your body, the words couldn’t even form on your tongue, even though million of excuses were forming on your head. What could you say? That you made your way to the surface? That you were so selfish that you broke the rules for your own amusement? That you broke his rules and put at risk not only your person but every single one of the others?

Your form began to tremble, you didn’t know if it was from the air that cooled your form or simply the fear of not knowing what your punishment would be.

Namor noticed the shakiness of your form, he frown, not really wanting to put you on this situation, he silently took away the basket of your hands, placing instead the flower you desperately wanted to hide from everyone else. Your fingers didn’t grasped it tightly as he did so his fingers closed around your hands. He smiled at you softly, trying to ease you back to comfort. “Ma' taak ka'ach in a asustaras, mix mix.” I didn’t want to scare you, far from it. One hand left yours and placed it on your cheek, his thumb caressing your skin.

“K'uk'ulkan.” You closed your eyes, trying so hard to not break down in front of him. “Teene'…” I…

He shushed you gently. “In wojel.” I know. He whispered, his eyes looking at the flower. “A wojel wáaj bix u k'aaba' le nikte'o'?” Do you know what this flower is called?

“Ka tin kaxtaj way.” I found it on the surface. You shook your head. “Tin tukultaje’ jats’uts.” I thought it was pretty.

Namor hummed, you almost closed your eyes at the sound. “U k'aaba' cempasúchil.” It’s called cempasúchil. He whispered. “Le nikte'o' le pixan.” The flower of the dead. You gasped in horror, trying to drop the flower but his hand didn’t let you. He quietly laughed at your action. “Mix taan u kíinsikech.” It will not kill you.

You stared at the flower -and him- weirdly, trying to understand how this tiny flower had that huge significance. He grabbed your chin and guide you to look at him once again. “I could show you, but the place I could take you do not speak our language, have you practiced your English?”

“Yes.” You bit your lip. “I am not good still.”

He shook his head smiling. “It does not matter.”

Namor guide you to the surface, carefully explaining you how you needed to blend yourselves from the surface-dwellers, you nodded along his words, but when the both of you finally made your way to the beach, he noticed how your skin turned blue, he frowned, not because of the color, but because he knew that if they saw it, you would be taken away from him and that made something stir inside of his body.

His eyes found a piece of clothe that perhaps belonged to someone else but he didn’t care. Namor grabbed it and helped you put it on, it didn’t do much but he was more at ease. He grabbed your hand and tugged you softly, making your way to the festivities, and as best as he could, Namor explained everything.

Like a child full in wonder, your eyes tried to take as much as you could, every single light, every single smell, everything was so captivating to you that you couldn’t care less if some surface-dwellers were throwing glances at the bluish-tone your skin was taking.

Then, some form of lights began exploding on the skies, making you gasp in surprise, your body sticking closer to your king, who gladly welcomed your touch without any complain. Your eyes never leaving the skies, how the colors were changing with each explosion, it made you giddy, it made you feel like you were a child once again.

Namor felt the soft tapping on his arm, his eyes quickly turning to it, a small child offered him a smile, a few teeth missing on the front, tiny hands trying to place a small object on his hands, he gratefully accepted it with a nod. The child left and Namor inspected it carefully before gently placing it on your hands.

You watched it with wonder. The object providing you with a gentle warm that made you smile, you tried to touch it but it burned you, making you quietly hiss but not throwing it away.

Namor was about to take it away from your hands as it hurt you, but when you turned to look at him something inside him made him stop. The object created a soft glow that caressed the bluish of your skin. You looked beautiful, like a painting he spent hours creating on the loneliness of his cavern, and when your eyes softly closed, he knew you were smiling under the layer of cloth he helped you put on to disguised yourself from the others. He couldn’t look away and even if he could, in that moment, he chose not to.

#namor #mcu namor #namor x y/n #namor x you #namor x reader #namor imagine #namor fluff #namor fic #namor fanfiction #k'uk'ulkan #kukulcan #tenoch huerta #black panther wakanda forever #black panther: wakanda forever #namor of talokan #namor of talokan imagine #black panther imagine

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revrover · 1 year

Text

The Stranger - Pt. 3

Part One | Part Two

Pairing: Namor x Reader

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: Language, Violence, Depictions of drowning, Fluff

Summary: Delivered to safety following the battle on the beach, you are left reeling as you grapple with nightmares and questions about an uncertain future. But as you come to know more about the Talokanil people and grow closer to their king, Namor is faced with a question of his own -- what does he do with this stranger from the surface?

A/N: It’s heeeeeere!! As always, thank you so much for your patience, for being here, and for reading! And a BIG thank you just for taking the time to engage with and be a part of this story. You all have been so encouraging to me as new writer, and I love being able to create something around characters that so many hold so dear. Comments and reblogs make my heart happy, so please show some love, share the joy, and be kind!

***I do not give permission to copy, plagiarize, or repost my work as your own in any form!

Bullets fly as bodies hit the ground in front of you. There on the open beach, spears soar high above your head. Your gaze is drawn to the heavens as a chopper falls from the night sky. It crashes onto the shore below, an intense heat flashing against you as you shield your face from the explosion.

Suddenly, the sounds of dying men and burning metal fade as you lower your hand. You look down to find yourself waist-deep in a raging sea, the battle on the sand becoming a distant memory as waves beat harshly against you, unrelenting and unforgiving. A deafening melody accompanies each swell of the tide. It consumes your mind with pain and serenity as you are pulled further out into the ocean’s depths, following its call. The chorus grows louder as the water rises to your chest, building with intensity. Then, suddenly, all is quiet.

And there he is.

Hovering just above the water’s surface, his winged ankles carry him effortlessly. His reflection glistens perfectly against the water, now calm and smooth as glass. Illuminated by the full moon behind him, his body is covered in beautiful armor made of gold, jade, and other metals. A finely crafted serpent headpiece with bright feathers crowns his head, resting just above his brow.

Namor.

Wordlessly, Namor stretches out his hand, beckoning you to come to him. You reach out as if your very being is at his command. But, before you can grasp hold of him, the chorus of voices returns with a vengeance. A violent tide drags you under, swallowing you beneath the waves. Further and further down you are pulled as darkness surrounds you. Looking up toward the fading light, Namor’s silhouette above the surface dissolves from view. Your lungs burn as you begin to drown.

You jolt awake, your body shooting up in a cold sweat.

Chest heaving, your mind desperately claws its way back to reality. You quickly scan your surroundings, clinging to any detail that will anchor your consciousness and keep you from slipping back into that nightmare.

Gripping the stone surface beneath you, you take in every porous curve your fingertips graze over. Looking upward at the high rocky ceiling, you study the patterns of limestone stalactites that hang like icicles. Droplets of water run down a few of them, their melodious drips echoing in small pools below, falling like a gentle, rhythmic rain.

This is the place Namor had spoken of the last time you saw him. The one where he promised you would be safe. And for good reason — here in this cavern, you were well below the ocean’s surface and out of range of any agents who might come searching for you.

By your best guess, you figure you have been down here about two days. It’s hard to be sure without the reference to natural light. The cavern itself is beautiful, though. Illuminated by pockets of glow worms that drape down from the ceiling, their soft luminescence casts gorgeous green and blue hues across each surface their light touches.

As your heart rate begins to even out, you continue to survey the cave. You look over at your belongings, bag laying on the ground, clothes hanging on a line to dry. Your heart drops a bit when you see your little leather-bound book, its pages separated and spread out across the rocks. Ink bleeding. Pages ruined. You had made your best attempt to salvage what you could. Perhaps if you had asked Namora how the two of you would be traveling to this safe haven, you wouldn’t have brought a damn book with you.

The dissonance of the Talokan melody still rings in the back of your mind. You cradle your head between your knees, rubbing your temples with your thumbs when you hear light footsteps approach.

Looking up, you find a familiar face entering the cavern. No longer geared up for battle, Namora dawns a lovely dress that gathers over one shoulder and flows down to the floor. It moves like waves with each step she takes toward you. Instead of a spear in her hand, she now carries a small tray with a medley of food.

“Eat," Namora says, placing the tray on a small end table beside you. She then moves gracefully over to your draped belongings, removing them one by one from the line and folding them into a neat pile.

“Can I ask you a question?” You inquire as you begin to nibble on a piece of food.

Namora shoots a skeptical look over her shoulder but says nothing, so you ask anyway.

“Have you always been a warrior?”

Unresponsive, she keeps her attention on one of your shirts which she has just pulled from the line, tucking it into itself and placing it with the others.

“It's just, I mean the way you fought those agents on the beach, you are — you are very good at, you know—” you should have given more thought to what you were going to say before opening your mouth because as you reach the end of your sentence all that comes out is, “—killing people."

Nice.

You cringe at your comment. It hangs in the air, practically mocking you.

“I’m just saying," you add, trying to recover, "you obviously know what you’re doing. It was impressive. Me on the other hand…” Your voice trails as you raise your bandaged hand, recalling how your first instinct in a fight was to block a fucking knife with your open palm. Next to Namora, your combat skills pale by comparison.

Halting her task, Namora finally turns to face you in one calculated motion. She stares for a moment then her eyes quickly dart toward the side entrance of the cavern where she had come through only minutes ago. The entryway is empty. When her eyes settle back on you, there is resolve in them.

“Up.” She says, walking toward you with purpose.

“What?” You reply in a tone that matches the confused look on your face.

“Up.”

You do as you are told, hastily pushing yourself to your feet. Namora steps in close and then taps your elbows.

“Up.” She orders a third time, only now she seems to be referring specifically to your arms. You follow her instruction, raising them awkwardly out in front of your body. You can almost hear the sigh of hopelessness when Namora, her brow furrowed, grabs your arms and positions each one in a fighting stance. Slipping a hand up to your left wrist, she grips it firmly while tapping your exposed forearm with the palm of her other hand.

“Shield.” She says with emphasis. Her eyebrows raise, looking for any indication that you comprehend what she is trying to explain. When you nod, Namora moves her hand from your wrist up to your fingers, balling them into a fist and tucking your thumb on the outside.

“Weapon.”

Namora then steps back from you, putting her own arms up to mirror your stance.

“Shield, weapon,” she repeats, patting her forearm and waving her closed fist.

“Shield, weapon,” you echo back to her, nodding your head again as you begin to understand more fully.

Just as she begins to step back toward you, a deep voice calls from behind.

“Namora.”

You both look up to see the large man who wears the hammerhead skull standing in the entry of the cavern. Attuma is his name, as you have come to learn. Namora straightens her posture as she turns to face him, her hands behind her back as she squares her shoulders in a commanding stance.

Attuma saunters a few more feet into the cavern, then speaks to her in their native tongue, a language still unfamiliar to you. The two of them converse back and forth for a few moments. You may not know what they are saying, but you can tell they disagree about something — whether with each other or someone else, you are not sure.

Namora swiftly turns back to you, her face serious again and her brows pinched together.

Fighting lessons must be over.

“Come,” she says.

Without any further instruction, she pivots back toward Attuma, who also turns to leave. You quickly grab your belongings which Namora had folded for you, stuffing them into your bag. You sling it around your shoulder as you exit the cavern.

Following the two generals into a tunneled hallway, you find yourself moving through a network of caves, each tunnel connecting to a series of other openings and pools. Soon, Attuma splits off into one of these open caverns, nodding to Namora as he does so. Your eyes trail him as he joins with more Talokan warriors, and just as you stare at them, they stare at you.

You continue walking behind Namora past them, their whispers reverberating through the tunnels.

“When was the last time someone… not Talokanil came here?” You ask. In typical Namora fashion, she remains silent and unresponsive to your question.

“Sorry,” you say apologetically, “back there it just seemed like they hadn’t seen someone new in a while.”

The two of you walk, furthering yourself from the turnoff where Attuma parted ways. Cautiously, you step around the uneven surfaces of the rocky ground. You can feel yourself being led deeper into the maze of caverns. If Namora decided to up and ditch you right now, you are certain you would be lost in this labyrinth forever.

“You are the first,” Namora says rather abruptly, catching you off guard. Not only does her response come well after your question was asked, but it is also the most she has ever said to you at one given time.

“The first?” You ask, perplexed. “What do you mean?”

“To come here,” Namora answers. “The first surface dweller to receive Talokan’s aid. The first the king has ever…” she pauses a moment, searching for the right word, “tolerated.”

The influx of her voice is not lost on you.

“And you don’t approve?”

“It is not my place to approve, " Namora clarifies as she leads you around a bend and past several open pools of water. "I am… concerned. When it comes to you, I fear he is blind.”

Silence befalls you both again as you enter another cavern, this one much larger and more spacious than any others you have seen. Within it are several large pools, glistening with light reflected from more glow worms above. Their tendrils hang from the high vaulted ceiling like sparkling chandeliers.

In the center of it all stands a large hut enclosed by beautifully woven fabrics. You follow Namora shoulder to shoulder up the stone-carved steps to it until you nearly reach the side.

“We’re here,” Namora says, coming to a dead stop. She then takes a step back from you.

Still unsure of where “here” is exactly, you glance over your shoulder, looking to her for further instruction or explanation. But Namora gives you nothing. The moment you begin to take a step backward as well, her hand shoots out, holding the back of your shoulder in position with a firm grip.

Ah. Don't move. Got it.

Subconsciously you begin to hold your breath, bracing yourself for the unknown.

Then, there he is.

From around the corner of the hut comes Namor. Immediately you are taken aback by his appearance. Up to this point, you have only seen him suited for battle. Now he stands before you dawning a beautifully woven cape plated with gold and draped across his broad shoulders. His hair is slicked back and his arms are adorned with various metal cuffs. Truly a wardrobe fit for a king.

A single nod of his head and Namora is dismissed. You hear her small footsteps fade as she leaves the two of you alone.

“How is your hand?”

Namor’s question snaps you out of your daze.

“Oh,” you raise your hand, glancing at the worn bandage. "It’s fine, thank you.”

Staring at the gauze, you can almost hear the lullaby Namor hummed as he gently tended to your wounded palm the night of the battle. Something flutters inside you as you touch the corner of the fabric. Realizing your mind has drifted again, you bring yourself back to reality by following up with your own question.

"Are we in..." you stop to rephrase, shifting your weight from side to side as you look around the cavern, “Is this… Talokan?"

If it is, it's very different from what you pictured.

Your question brings a smile to Namor’s face.

"No," he answers with a breathy chuckle, shaking his head. "Talokan is far beyond this place. I assure you, your body would not survive the journey to its depths. But these caverns are safe, I promise you.”

Namor then shifts the topic of conversation.

“I am told some of your belongings were ruined on your traveling here, including your book. I apologize. I had hoped to make up for it.”

With one arm, Namor ushers you around the corner to the entrance of his quarters, inviting you inside.

Intrigued and eager to see what awaits, you accept his invitation. As you enter, you find yourself in a study of sorts. Lit by several lanterns, the room is warm and bright. Within it sits a small table, a prominent desk full of scrolls and artifacts, and a cozy hammock hung in the corner. But what catches your eye most of all are the walls.

All around you hang gorgeous tapestry walls with breathtaking murals that stretch from floor to ceiling.

“Did you do all of these?” You ask in disbelief as you move to one at the far end of the room. Your eyes widen as you gaze in admiration at the beautiful artistry.

“Yes,” Namor answers humbly, following behind you. “I think you will find a more accurate depiction of my history here.”

“I don’t know,” you say with playful skepticism in your voice as you inspect the artwork closer, “always be weary of your authors, right?” You smirk as you shift your glance sideways to Namor, echoing his words back to him in jest. His face is serious at first but quickly turns to amusement.

“You remembered,” he says nodding his head, an impressed grin now stretching at the corners of his mouth, “that is good.”

You return your attention to the paintings. What a gift it is to be standing here in front of them. Full of stories, full of history. And to be accompanied by the man who created them himself — who lived them himself. It is all a far cry from the vague glyphs you tried so hard to decipher in your book.

"They're amazing." You say in awe, following along the panels as you trace the line work delicately with your fingertip.

Immersed in the murals, you are too busy to notice Namor's softening gaze as he watches you study his work so intently. Here you are, an outsider who he has welcomed into his space. It is not like him to be so open, especially not with a stranger from the surface — never someone from the surface — yet, something about you causes a stirring inside of him. Perhaps it is your enthusiasm and wonders for his culture or your refreshing dose of humanity towards his people that compels his desire to be close to you.

As you follow the artwork from panel to panel across the walls, you arrive at a scene that suddenly makes you freeze. Your wrist snaps your finger back as if repelled by the paint itself. In front of you is a large image of Namor dawning a serpent headpiece as he hovers above the water. You are immediately back in your nightmare, your mind flashing to Namor’s outstretched hand then the darkness that closes in around you as you start to drown. You can almost feel the fire in your lungs as they grow desperate for air.

“What troubles you?” Namor asks with genuine traces of concern in his voice. Your sudden silence has not gone unnoticed. He moves to stand shoulder to shoulder with you now, looking up to analyze the same part of the mural.

"Nothing," you lie, shaking your head while your hand drops to your side. You withdraw from the painting, taking a few steps back from it and Namor.

“Your people," you say to change the subject, pointing your thumb to the rest of the artwork in the room, "they honor you. It's admirable, what you've done for them. To keep them safe all this time."

“But?” He senses there is more on your mind.

You stare at him, then turn your focus back to the tapestries surrounding you. Scanning them from wall to wall, you notice a pattern in the stories shown.

“It’s just,” you begin with uncertainty in your voice “for someone who has spent his whole life bringing peace to his people, I wonder how much of it you have experienced for yourself?”

Namor is quiet for a moment.

"And why do you wonder this?" He finally replies, turning to face you fully.

“I guess I look at these and I’m curious… how? How can you do that without completely breaking under the weight of it all? Even with—” you begin gesturing to his body and suddenly become desperate to come up with the right words in time, “superhuman strength.” Thank god.

“Hmmm,” Namor exhales, thoughtfully nodding as his gaze drops to the floor. He folds his arms over his chest, the golden band around his exposed bicep reflecting the light that softly glows from a nearby lantern. Taking a few steps toward you, he lifts his eyes to yours.

“It is true,” he says, “the burden I carry for the sake of my people does not always permit me the personal luxury of peace. It… can be difficult.” His tone shifts from diplomatic to vulnerable. “And who is to say I have not broken under it? It is that brokenness that has made me the leader I am.”

Turning his head toward the mural, he looks at it carefully before speaking again. His chiseled jawline accentuates the exposed veins protruding from his neck.

"To your question,” he continues, “I believe how is never as important as why. Why would someone fight to bring others peace when they themselves cannot have it?” Namor takes another step closer and lifts his hand to your chin, delicately angling your face upward toward his own. "Because we sacrifice to protect what we love.”

His eyes search yours earnestly. After a moment, Namor quickly drops his hand from your chin and you watch as he moves towards his desk, shuffling a few scrolls around before looking back up at you again.

“I love my people,” he says, planting his hand firmly on the desk, “and I have seen evil, what it is capable of. I watch as the rest of the world grows desperate in their greed and ambition, their desire for power. They are becoming more dangerous by the day."

"You mean — surface dwellers?" You ask.

Namor raises his brow at you knowingly.

"Yes,” he answers cooly.

"I'm a surface dweller. Am I...dangerous?"

Namor sighs with a small smile.

“Yes. Though not in the way you may think.”

He moves from out behind his desk and back over in your direction.

“Now I have a question for you,” he says in a low voice, approaching you with a dark look looming over his face. “Please consider your answer carefully.”

The silence is intense. Your heart feels like it is going to jump out of your throat as you anticipate what damning question the king of Talokan has in store for you.

Namor’s expression changes on a dime, and he suddenly asks in a lighthearted tone,

“Are you up for a swim?”

—

You follow Namor out of his quarters and into the large open cavern. As you pass by several beautiful pools of water, you are enchanted by how the light dances across the rich tones of Namor's skin. The same light casts dazzling hues of aquamarine and cerulean across the surface of the pools, reflected onto the rocks surrounding them.

Namor approaches one of the bigger pools and removes the cape from his shoulder, exposing his bare chest underneath. Here is the Namor you recognize - prominent necklace, bare chest, emerald green shorts. Before dropping his cape to the ground, however, he pulls out a Talokan mask from the fabric like the ones Namora and the other warriors wear.

“Take a deep breath,” Namor says as he turns to you. He pushes your hair back from your cheek delicately as he applies the apparatus to your face. Doing as you are told, you inhale deeply as the mask fastens over your nose and mouth.

“Stay close,” he instructs. You nod, and Namor steps to the edge of the closest pool. He looks back at you with a hint of a smile on his face. Then, with all the strength and grace of a god, he dives perfectly into the water and disappears under the surface.

You step closer to the pool. The faint rhythm of droplets falling from the ceiling rings throughout the cavern. You glance behind you toward the entrance, but there isn't a soul in sight. Namora’s words echo through your mind.

When it comes to you, he is blind.

You dive in, following Namor.

Once in the water, you quickly orient yourself. Looking around, you see the outline of Namor, his silhouette waiting for you in the distance. As you swim closer, he gestures for you to follow him. You kick your feet to propel yourself further downward, ears popping as you equalize to the increasing pressure.

You swim until you are clear of the caves. Though your muscles ache, there is something serene about being beneath the water; the quiet, the weightlessness, everything drifting harmoniously in rhythm with the current. For the first time since you can remember, your mind feels still. Free from the chaos. Somehow, the vast open sea does not frighten you with its deep blue void as it did in your dream. Not even a little. Instead, you feel a calmness in your soul as you lose track of time entirely, trailing Namor as you move through the ocean’s depths.

Quite literally in his element, you watch in awe as Namor swims so effortlessly. To him, it must be as easy as breathing. He looks more relaxed than you have seen him. Perhaps even enjoying himself?

You continue to swim, the water getting lighter as the visibility becomes clearer. A school of fish rushes past, their scales glimmering with each flick of a fin or contour of their bodies. Countless numbers weave around you in sync as if part of the same carefully choreographed ballet. You can’t help but smile as you watch them move so freely, and Namor can't help but smile as he watches you.

Suddenly the fish rapidly disperse and within seconds a huge mass flashes past you with incredible speed and agility. Your eyes widen and adrenaline rushes through you as you witness a killer whale chase the school, its size completely dwarfing your mere human frame. Involuntarily, you begin hyperventilating as you watch the giant creature swim off into the distance. When you feel a touch against your arm, you turn to find Namor next to you. His hand rises and falls in front of his torso, gesturing for you to take deep breaths. In, out. In, out.

The two of you remain suspended in the endless ocean blue as you your breath slows and your muscles recover. Namor looks upward, and as you savor the moment of rest you follow his gaze. You can tell by the light above that you are getting close to the surface, which must mean you are nearing your destination. When he nods, you know it is time to move. Slowly the two of you start your ascent and the ocean becomes warmer as you gradually near the top.

When you arise from the water, the sound of the rushing wind, the rolling waves, and birds flying overhead rush into your ears. Less than a hundred meters from you stretches a beautiful coastline covered in soft white sand and lined by rich green foliage.

You make your way towards it. Soon you are walking knee-deep in the waves, the tide splashing against the back of your legs as you near the shore. Removing the mask from your face, the sweet breeze of the island races by, rustling your wet hair and filling your nostrils with the earthy aroma of some nearby palm trees.

Namor has already reached the sand. He stands tall, water still running down his body. Staring out at the horizon, he runs his hand over his face and pushes his hair back, inadvertently flexing his bicep as he does so. The sun slowly begins its descent toward the Earth, its warm rays casting brilliant tones of red and orange across Namor’s exposed skin. It contrasts the deep blues and greens that illuminated him in the caverns, and at this point, you are confident he looks devastatingly beautiful in any light.

As you reach the shore, you take your place next to him and stare out at the skyline.

“Hard to beat a view like that,” you say breathlessly.

“My mother would always describe to me the beauty of the setting sun,” Namor responds. “I have no love for the surface world, but from time to time I visit this island. See what she saw.”

“Is this—?” You begin to ask.

“Where she is buried.” Namor answers before you finish your question. His eyes drop as he reflects, “I am not sure what I expected to see the day I came to lay her body to rest. I suppose the beauty of an island she spoke of so fondly. Instead, I found my brothers and sisters enslaved by men who took life without a second thought.” His jaw clenches as he recalls the bitter memory. “But I saw to it the favor was returned.”

His meaning is clear. You are not sure which makes you more nervous — the calm and cool way he says it, or the menacing smile that accompanies his statement. Either way, his smile disappears as quickly as it comes. You have seen Namor’s ferocity firsthand and know what he is capable of, especially when it comes to protecting his people. A nervous feeling grows in the pit of your stomach as you begin questioning his purpose in bringing you here.

You consider the facts:

You are a surface dweller.

He did call you dangerous.

Oh shit.

Anxiously you glance at him, then redirect your gaze back to the horizon to maintain your composure. The soft waves break along the shore, racing up to your ankles. As the sand beneath your feet gets pulled out by the tide, you wish with all your might you could be pulled away with it. Instead, you sink deeper into the ground, more immovable than before.

“Are you going to kill me?” The words come out blunter than you intend, but you stand by them despite the quiver in your voice.

The question pulls Namor out of his thoughts as he turns to you, eyebrows raised. He studies your face carefully before answering.

“I probably should," he says. There is no malice in his words, only honesty. “The knowledge you have of me and my people... it puts me in a difficult position.” His eyes are solemn. "But I have lived a long time, and in that time I have witnessed many in their final moments before death when one truly reveals themself. That night on the beach, in what you believed were your final moments, you kept your word to me and my people. You said nothing to those men, even with your life on the line. There is no truer test of loyalty.”

Without a word, he reaches his hand out for the mask you still carry. You cautiously hand it over.

"There is a village eastward,” Namor continues, “you will find everything you need there, and the means to leave this place."

You feel his palm slip under your fingers to receive the mask. He takes a deep breath, then purses his lips in the direction behind you.

“Or, just up the way beyond those trees is a house. It is not much, but comfortable. It is yours to use... if you wish. You would be safe here.”

The offer catches you off guard.

“I… I don't understand." You mutter in slight confusion.

With a deep inhale, Namor squints back at the setting sun to collect his thoughts. Then, taking another step closer, he eliminates virtually any remaining space between you. His eyes are deep and mesmerizing as ever. Your heart races from his sudden proximity and you find yourself holding your breath as you wait for him to speak again. He peers down at you, so impossibly close that you can sense the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes.

"You are no enemy of mine," he says with authority, "and no prisoner of Talokan. You have my trust. And because of that trust, I will not order you to stay." Namor then drops the mask into the sand like it is worthless and gently slides his hands underneath your jawline, cradling your face in both of his palms. “But I am asking you to.”

You are speechless. The way he is holding your gaze, the tenderness of his thumb brushing against the apple of your cheek, the fluttering of his lashes as his eyes flick down to your mouth.

"Stay," Namor says fervently in one final clarifying word. It is not a command, but an invitation. Perhaps even a plea. But most importantly, it is a choice. Your choice.

His eyes quickly dart back up to yours as he awaits an answer, but even Namor is not strong enough to keep his attention from dropping back down to your lips. He is clearly focused on more than just the words he hopes to hear come out of them.

In an overwhelming wave of boldness, you allow instinct to take over. No lives at stake, no siren’s song — it is only the burning desire within your very soul for him that compels you. You close your eyes and melt into Namor’s touch, pressing your lips to his.

The moment you do so, it is as if a surge of energy courses through your veins, electrifying your entire body. Namor immediately welcomes your advance, molding his lips to your own. The smooth piece of jade that pierces his septum presses cooly above your lip, contrasting the heat of his skin to ignite your senses. As he slides a hand around to the back of your neck, his fingers curl into your hair to bring you in even closer.

A small moan escapes you as the tip of his tongue traces along your bottom lip. You can feel his smile against your mouth, then a tug at the same lip with his teeth. Another invitation, to which you gladly accept. You part your mouth open to let Namor inside. Both of your tongues dance together as your kisses become deeper and more indulgent.

Consumed by his taste and his touch, you slide your hands up his bare chest, desperate for more of him. Without missing a beat, Namor responds by running his arms down your body and hoisting you up off the sand with ease. You wrap your legs around him tightly and take full advantage of this new, higher angle. Moving your mouth in tandem with his, you savor the richness of his lips and entangling your fingers in his dark locks of hair.

The two of you ebb and flow just like the rolling ocean waves, losing yourselves in each other. It’s not until you feel a faint burning in your lungs that you face the harsh reality of having to break away for air. Everything inside you fights it. If Namor were the sea, you would gladly let yourself drown in this moment.

But Namor, also sensing your need for oxygen, begins to slow down. He lowers you gently to the ground, though he is careful not to let you slip too far away from him. The two of you breathe heavily as the sun begins to dip below the horizon. Namor gives you another passionate kiss, this one slow and deep. His lips then move to the corner of your mouth and trail up to your ear, the heat of his breath spreading like wildfire across your skin. You can feel your heart beating out of your chest. Holding you close, Namor leans his forehead against your temple and presses his lips against your ear.

“Please," he whispers. "Stay with me.”

--------

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