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revrover · 1 year

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The Stranger - Pt 1

Part Two | Part Three

Pairing: Namor x Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Language, blood, brief mentions of violence and alcohol

Summary: Upon discovering the unconscious body of a woman floating in the water, you rush to provide aid. Little do you know her people are searching for her, bringing a mysterious man to your door.

A/N: Still very new to writing fanfic (this is literally post number two), but couldn’t get this drabble out of my brain for a week so here it is. Please be kind!

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

It’s close to dusk when you make your way from town back to your home on the secluded shoreline. With food and supplies in a bag slung over your shoulder, it will be another two or three days before you head back to restock. Although a fair distance, you have come to cherish the 5-mile trek into town. Walking along less traveled paths, visiting with the locals, and admiring the breathtaking nature around you have become some of your favorite things about living on the island.

As the sun steals its last glimpse over the horizon, the vibrant orange and purple hues stretching across the sky begin to dim. The outline of a small bungalow comes into view about a hundred meters down the way. The warm glow of lanterns you hung before you left shines from the front porch, welcoming your return.

You stumbled across this place two years ago, abandoned and needing major repair. Maybe it was just your nature to see the beauty and potential in broken things, but as soon as you laid eyes on the residence, your heart was set on it. Wrapped around the front is a porch with stairs that lead down onto a stone path, eventually making its way to the sand. Through the front door, an open entryway and a small kitchen are situated to the left accompanied by a simple sitting area. To the right is a doorway that leads to your bedroom and bathroom. It's a humble home, but you've worked hard to make it comfortable.

As you walk the familiar pathway toward the bungalow, you look out at the ocean. You watch as the water dances its way up the beach with every push and pull of the tide, waves gently lapping their way up onto the sand to make a melodic rhythm. You breathe in the salty air and revel in the beauty the island so generously offers.

The moment of serenity is interrupted when, out of the corner of your eye, you notice something just past the wave breaks. You squint as you try to focus your gaze to ensure the evening shadows aren't playing tricks on you. A shiver shoots down your spine.

There's something floating in the water. Only, it's not something. It's someone.

"Oh my god," you say in disbelief, your eyes widening as you feel the air rush from your lungs.

You react on pure instinct, immediately dropping your bag to the ground and sprinting into the water. Taking a deep breath, you plunge straight into the waves, pumping your arms and kicking your legs until they burn. You swim as hard as you can toward the body as it floats face down.

When you reach it, you fear the worst. Quickly you turn it over to check for a pulse and discover it is a woman. Her frame is small, but she's solid and muscular. Body adorned with beautiful gold and jade trinkets, she appears to be wearing some sort of woven armor. You also notice her raven-black hair tied in a knot on top of her head, and a mesh-like apparatus covering her nose and mouth.

You carefully cradle the woman's head, lifting it out of the water.

"What the hell??" You mutter in shock.

Right before your eyes, part of the woman’s face that is now exposed to the air turns a pale pigment of blue. She seems human enough, yet the way the blueness of her skin contrasts with its golden tones underneath the ocean surface makes you question what she might be instead.

All thoughts are pushed aside, however, the moment your attention is drawn to the sight of blood. Two gouges, a laceration across her shoulder, and a wound to her abdomen are seeping red into the salt water. She’s in poor condition and time is not on your side.

Doing your best to grapple her body, you kick your feet and pull the woman back to shore. The tide's added assistance gives you both the momentum needed to propel you toward the beach. As soon as you are able to stand, you turn and haul her body the rest of the way out of the ocean.

Gently you lay her on a patch of dry sand as you take a moment to catch your breath. Your chest repeatedly rises and falls, your lungs straining for more oxygen. Staring at her now, you feel your heart nearly pounding out of your chest as the rest of her body turns the same shade of blue as her face. You shake your head as you fight back both your fear and curiosity. Whatever the woman's origins, tending to her wounds is your main priority. Help her now, and ask questions later.

Still unconscious, you reach up to remove the apparatus over her face, preparing to administer CPR. Suddenly, her arm shoots out and grasps your wrist, scaring the shit out of you. With unbelievable strength, she restrains any movement your hand could possibly make. Her eyes are wide and intense, pupils dilated.

"Okay, okay, I won't mess with it!" You promise. Her grip slackens as her eyes roll to the back of her head, losing consciousness again.

You rub your wrist, the bruise already forming. Deciding it would be best to move her from behind, you link yourself under her arms and pull her towards your home, unwittingly leaving a trail of sand and blood behind you.

Making it to the bungalow, you manage to get the woman inside and onto your kitchen table. She's breathing, but it's shallow. Quickly, you grab all the first aid and sewing supplies you can scrounge out of the cabinets. You swipe a bottle of tequila from the shelf above the sink for good measure. Then you get to work to patch her up the best you can.

You clean the wound on her abdomen first, as that's where the bleeding is most prominent. Disinfecting it, applying pressure, then sewing it up, you focus meticulously on the needle in your hand, threading it back and forth through her skin. Once you finish, you fashion a bandage to soak up the excess blood.

The sky is dark as you move on to her shoulder to do the same. It feels like hours have gone by as you continue dressing the woman's wounds. It’s well into the night now, and the only light reflecting off the ocean for miles is from the moon and the lanterns of your home.

That's when he finds you.

A dark figure emerges from the water. He surveys the scene in front of him, eyes filling with rage as his focus dials in on the bloody trail leading up to your door. Spear in hand and body seething with anger, he marches towards your little house.

Just as you clip the thread used to sew up the woman's shoulder and begin to apply another bandage, you're startled by a deafening CRASH!

Behind you, your front door gets obliterated. Through it, storms a man who quickly steps over the wooden debris that now litters the floor. His presence swallows the room as water drips off of his body. His eyes lock on to yours.

"Holy shit!" You exclaim in terror. Before you know what is happening, he has made his way over to you, aggressively backing you up against the kitchen cabinets.

Face-to-face with you now, he holds the tip of his spear to your throat, grazing your skin with it threateningly. He leans in so close you smell the salty ocean spray that covers his dark skin and can practically see your reflection in the cold piece of jade pierced through his septum. His breath is steady, but his glare is wild and ferocious. You raise your hands, attempting to show you mean no harm, only you don't account for the fact that your arms are covered in the woman's blood. His look becomes more menacing.

"What have you done?" He growls, his voice low and dangerous. A fire is burning in his eyes as they widen with rage.

"I'm helping her! I'm helping her!" is all you manage to say as you plead your case to the mysterious, hostile stranger.

His stare remains intense as you feel the growing pressure of the cold metal spear against your throat. Everything inside you is screaming, telling you to close your eyes and that one way or another it will all be over soon. But you don't - you hold your ground and hold his gaze, searching his face for any shred of hope that he will spare your life.

The man's eyes flick over to the woman on the table, taking in more of the scene. As his head turns, you notice his pointed ears and beautifully hand-carved gauges made of jade. He turns his head slowly back to you, looking at you this time as if deliberating in his mind whether or not you are telling the truth.

Again he leans in close, and you hold your breath as you await his final verdict.

"You will speak of this to no one." It's not a question. It's a command.

You nod, willing to agree to anything at this point if it means not having your jugular sliced open.

"You will forget this night, and what you have seen."

Again you nod.

He keeps the spear pointed at your throat while carefully backing away toward the table. Your heart is pounding out of your chest as adrenaline pumps through your veins. You don't dare move a muscle.

The man retreats, withdrawing his spear and scooping up the woman who looks so petite in his arms. He carries her through the doorway but stops to look back at you. He says nothing, but his eyes are deadlocked on yours. You can’t describe or decipher the electric sensation that runs through your body at that moment, so you chalk it up to being in shock.

Finally, he turns to leave, seemingly floating down to the shoreline with the woman securely in his arms. You watch as they disappear into the ocean and the night.

Left alone, surrounded only by silence, the stinging memory of a blade against your neck, and a buzzing in your chest, you look around the empty kitchen. Blood and first aid supplies cover your table; debris that was once your front door now lays scattered across the floor, a draft gliding its way through your home.

Your mind is still processing everything that has happened. Physically and emotionally, you are exhausted.

"Screw it," you say out loud, grabbing the tequila still on the table and taking a swig straight from the bottle. "I'm going to bed."

You wake up the next morning as the sun is starting to rise and feel just as exhausted as when you had fallen asleep. Your mind is hazy. Your body is sore. You get up and pull on a fresh shirt and some shorts before making your way out of your bedroom. Groggily you shuffle through the entryway and into the kitchen to greet last night's mess.

Only a few steps into the kitchen, however, you stop. Blinking a few times, you rub your eyes. On the table, where bloodied gauze, cloths, sewing needles, and the works had been scattered, now sits your bag next to a neat pile of the food and supplies you had gathered from yesterday's trip into town. You look down at your feet to discover a clean, debris-less floor. Moving in reverse, you pace a few steps back into the entryway and turn your head. Stunned, you see a new, beautifully carved wooden door in place of where your old one had been kicked down the night before.

You pinch your temples as you try to convince yourself you're not losing your mind. You move closer to inspect the door. Eyes full of wonder and amazement, you run your fingers down its wooden grooves. The surface is smooth as stone, yet the grain in it gives the material a richness that makes your jaw drop as you admire it.

Before you can even ask yourself how it was possible, you open the door and your breath catches in your throat. The man from last night is sitting there on your front porch, legs hanging off the edge of it, looking out at the softly illuminated horizon.

"I apologize about the door." He says, still facing the ocean.

Fear takes over as you find yourself frozen in his presence. He senses your uneasiness and, still seated on the edge of the porch, turns toward you. He raises one hand to the air as a sign of his peaceful intention.

"I promise I am not here to bring harm to you... or your home," he adds, his eyes trailing toward the doorway. You say nothing, equally stunned and confused by his being there.

"I am sorry for threatening you," he says, his voice turning somber. "I didn't know what you were doing to her."

"Is she okay?" You ask, finally finding your voice. "Your wife?"

He lets out a sharp chuckle.

"Namora isn't my wife, she's one of my generals -- my best, in fact. And yes, she is okay, thanks to you."

A general. You avert your gaze, feeling foolish for assuming incorrectly. Suddenly the events of last night take on a different tone than what you had perceived.

"We had been searching for her for two days." The man continues to explain, "When I finally traced her whereabouts here and found her with you, I assumed the worst." He looks back out toward the ocean. "History has not typically been kind to my people in these types of situations."

You feel your chest tighten as the weight of his words sinks in. Your eyes wander from the ground up to the stranger. You watch as beads of salt water forge paths on his skin, rolling from his dark slick hair down the toned muscles of his back.

"Who... are your people, exactly? Who are you?" You find the courage to ask.

He turns back to look at you, raising an eyebrow in your direction as he considers his answers.

"There are some who know me as K’uk’ulkan." He says thoughtfully. "But most know me as Namor." Pushing himself up to a stand, he continues, "As for my people, that is a discussion for another time."

Namor walks up to you, and once again you find yourself face-to-face with him. Only this time his presence is not menacing, it's hypnotizing.

"Thank you," he says softly, "for what you did. It will not be forgotten."

There's a rich sincerity in his voice. Mesmerized by it, all you can muster in response is a nod of your head. A slight smile pulls at the corners of Namor's mouth as he closely studies your face. The light of the morning sun reflects in his eyes, and where you had only seen brooding darkness before, you now see shimmering flecks of gold. Everything about him is beautiful.

"You are not what I expected." He says warmly, leaning in closer as if the two of you are sharing a secret. He lingers there a moment longer. Then, all too soon, he nods and turns to head down the stairs of your front porch. As he reaches the end of the stone walkway, he stops before stepping out onto the sand.

"Remember," he says, repeating his instructions from your encounter last night, only gentler. "Speak of this to no one."

"Will you be back?" You ask earnestly. You don't know what prompts your question, other than the thought of his departure suddenly pulling at your soul in a way you can't explain.

He turns back to look at you and smiles. You return it with a smile of your own. No words are needed for you to know that somehow, someday, you would see him again.

You watch from the porch as Namor strides out into the water and disappears below the surface. The sun glimmers brilliantly across the waves as they engulf him in their deep abyss.

#namor #namor x reader #namor x you #mcu namor #namor x y/n #k'uk'ulkan #namor fluff #namor imagine #mcu imagine #namor fanfic #namor fanfiction #namora #wakanda forever #namor x gen!reader #namor x fem!reader

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cyb3rscoups · 1 year

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There’s just something about writing a black woman being loved and spoiled that really hits home for me. It is simply unmatched on my happiness scale.

#attuma #alex livinalli #attoye #attuma x okoye #attoye fanfic #black panther #okoye x attuma #wakanda forever #danai gurira #mcu okoye #x black reader #black reader #black woman #black woman writer #black writers

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devilishcupid · 1 year

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THE KING'S PROPOSAL | Namor

☆ premise: centuries since the calling off of your engagement, namor comes back and proposes once more.

☆ pairing: namor x fem!royal!reader

☆ warnings: romantic history between namor and reader, tension between namor and reader

☆ a/n: genuinely down bad for this man. i love him so much🤧

"Be my queen, and I will be your king."

The room was suddenly filled with the laughs of your advisers. Even you found it amusing. Who knew Namor, the Feathered Serpent God, would be in standing in the middle of your throne room right now, proposing an alliance between your kingdom and his through marriage?

After all, not only did your kingdom have a bloody history with Talokan—you and Namor had history yourselves. Centuries ago, you were old flames whose relationship's end nearly caused a civil war between your nations.

"If I may speak, my queen," one of your advisers appealed. Giving your nod of approval, she turned to the Talokanil King. "Attempts to form an alliance didn't work the first time. In fact, it only ended up dividing us further. Why should her majesty accept your proposal a second time?"

Your eyes narrowed at the steely glint in Namor's eyes. "Because if you don't, a time will come where your people will regret not having Talokan by its side."

The room became quiet as tension filled the air. Millions of thoughts ran through your head. What were his intentions? What did Talokan have that your people did not? Was there truth behind his words? Or was he merely bluffing?

Finally, you spoke. "Leave me with him."

Your advisers were about to protest, but your glare silenced them into submitting to your command. Namor's own advisers, Attuma and Namora, followed suit after a nod of approval from their king. With the last person closing the doors shut, it was only you and Namor in the throne room.

You descended from your throne, your footsteps echoing until you stood in front of your former flame. Looking up at him, you said, "This is the first time we've met since the unfortunate calling off of our engagement, and the first thing you do is threaten me under my own roof."

"Whether my words are a threat or an act of good faith will depend on whether or not you accept my proposal for marriage."

"What you just did was asking for my hand in marriage? You've gotten more romantic since we last met, Namor." You remarked, sarcasm dripping from your words.

A low chuckle left his lips in response. "And you're still the same as always, In yakunaj."

Your eye twitched at the term of endearment he used to reserve for you. "If you think you can charm me into marrying you, I assure you it won't work."

"It did the first time." He quipped, an eyebrow raised suggestively.

"Yet it ended disastrously, did it not?" You shot back, before returning back to your former demeanor. "What do you really want, Namor? We don't make contact for years and now you want me to marry you and unite our kingdoms. Why?"

"Talokan has shown itself to Wakanda," Namor revealed, as your eyes widened at the revelation, "and we have formed an alliance that will be of great help when war arrives."

"Strengthening your nation in preparation for battle. So that's why you've come." You concluded, sighing and shaking your head. "Did we not decide that the surface dwellers will end up killing each other anyway? That we will watch those fools burn without us having to light the fire?"

He scoffed at your words. "That would be true, if they hadn't gotten stronger. I wouldn't had revealed my people's existence to Wakanda if the surface world hadn't threatened Talokan's safety."

Namor leaned into you, one hand gently taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger, while the other rested on your waist. "And I wouldn't be here if your safety hadn't been threatened as well."

You gulped, your chest heaving as you stared at him. The two of you were completely silent, save for the sounds of your breathing, neither of you breaking eye contact.

You caught yourself leaning closer to his face, and you immediately pulled away from his grasp. You turned your back to him, cheeks tinged red from how close you were to kissing him. Even after all these years, he still had the same effect on you.

"I won't accept your offer. Not now, at least." You said after composing yourself. You turned around to face him once more. "I'll consider your proposal, but I can't promise my nation's compliance."

"Then I'll leave you to deliberate, your majesty." Namor handed you a large shell, which you recognized as a Talokanil communication device. "Tell me of your decision as soon as you have made it."

You nodded, and Namor headed towards the exit. He stopped in his tracks when he reached the doors, making you raise an eyebrow. "What is it, Namor?"

"I was right. You haven't changed one bit."

"What made you reach that conclusion?"

"It's been years yet making you fall for me still is no hardship."

#˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ doll's fics #marvel #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #black panther #wakanda forever #namor #namor x reader #mcu x reader #namor fic #namor fanfic #namor imagine #namor the sub mariner

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mermaidchansons · 1 year

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Touch Me

dom!Shuri x brat!Fem reader

Summary: Reader is feeling neglected as Shuri takes on responsibilities as both the Black Panther and the leader of the Design Group. Instead of talking it out, she tries to get Shuri’s attention in other ways.

Word Count: 2K

Warnings: SMUT! 18+ only! WLW SMUT!!!

Author’s Note: First time writing some wlw smut! I will never get over Shuri’s undercut, she’s too fucking sexy. Guess how many times I’ve seen BPWF?

Taglist: @tchallasbabymama @tgigoldie @muse-of-mbaku @chaneajoyyy @ghostfacekill-monger @soufcakmistress @szalipcombo @tchhairbandhere

Translations: sthandwa (my love), uxolo (sorry), nkosazana (princess)

“Griot, what is Shuri’s location?” Yawning, you stretched your body to shake off the sleep.

“The panther is in a meeting with the Design Group, in the lab.”

Turning on your side, you reached out your hand to the empty side of the bed and took in the coldness on the silk sheets.

“Thank you, Griot,” you sighed.

Being in a relationship with the leader of Wakanda’s design group was not always easy. Shuri had no set schedule, it was not like a 9-5 where she would have time to wind down and spend time with you like clockwork. She was constantly working on some new invention or approving blueprints or improving old tech. Your initial attraction to her was mostly because of how crazy intelligent she was(but also because of how sexy her smile was). However, now her intelligence was getting in the way of you two spending time together. And it had only become worse once she restored the mantle of the Black Panther. She would leave meals early or eat them in the lab while she worked; leave for the lab at 4am when she woke up with a new idea.

For a whole week, she hadn’t even been in bed when you drifted off to sleep. The big plush bed felt empty at night. And the only way you knew she’d slept next to you was because the imprint of her big head was left on her pillow. Frustration had already begun to creep up your back as she had barely touched you in almost two weeks. How could she train your body to yearn for her touch and deny you the release that you’ve missed? You had to do something about this.

You walked into the entrance of the lab, saluting the Dora Milaje on guard as you passed them by. The Dora was always so strong and graceful, characteristics you wished you possessed. You made a mental note to take Okoye up on those sparring lessons she once offered. Griot announced you as you walked in.

“Panther, Y/N, daughter of Asante is here.” You chuckled as you looked at the yellow orb on the screen.

“Thank you, Griot” You stood next to Shuri as she wrote Wakandan code on an interface.

“Sthandwa, what are you doing in the lab? You never come in here unless I call you,” she mumbled, still too preoccupied with her work.

“That’s not true, you just don’t notice me,” you eyed her as she continued her work. “Shuri, stop for just a moment!”

She looked at the pout on your face and put the stylus down, swiping the interface away. Pulling you into a hug, she squeezed your waist and peppered your cheeks with kisses. You giggled and felt her smile against your cheek in between the pecks. And for a moment, it felt as if all was fine. Being in her arms once again made everything feel right. But you could not break now.

“What can I do for you, my love?” Shuri kissed your cheek once more before picking up her stylus once again. You missed her embrace as soon as she let go of you.

“You weren’t in bed this morning.”

“Uxolo, we had an early meeting.”

She walked to the other side of the lab and began to tinker with her gauntlets. Your brow furrowed with frustration. Why wasn’t paying attention to you?

“Maybe you should take a break. You could get away—“

“I can’t,” she shook her head, cutting you off, “I have a field mission in 48 hours and the reconfigurations on my suit must be done before I leave.”

“Shuri, you haven’t been in bed all week. I’m starting to think you might be cheating. I mean, you obviously don’t care about me,” you lied.

She set down her gauntlets and gave you a skeptical look. Your words were chosen with intent. If she wouldn’t pay attention to you when you were playing nice, you knew you’d have to get under her skin. You shrugged, smirking at her as she walked over to you. She leaned down to match your height, her lips dangerously close to your ear.

“I see what you’re trying to do, Y/N. Don’t make me have to discipline you in front of my staff.” Her threat made your core pool with desire and you choked down a moan when she moved to softly squeeze your throat.

“Nkosazana,” Shuri said lowly, keeping her eye out for onlookers, “ I know I’ve been busy and I miss you terribly but behave for me, okay?”

You nodded and she smiled, taking her hand from around your throat and holding your face gently.

“Good girl. Now go, I’ll meet you in the garden in an hour for brunch.” You squinted your eyes at her in suspicion and she chuckled.

“I’ll be there, go.” She turned you around by your waist and slapped your ass, making you jump a little.

“Okay, okay, I’m going!”

An hour and a half had passed when you grew impatient. Maybe there was a threat she had to tend to, you thought. But if that was true, one of the Dora would have alerted you.

Another 30 mins had passed and in that time you had counted the flowers in the garden twice. You had already picked over the food on the table and ultimately decided you were too upset to eat. A ping from your kimoyo beads pulled you from your thoughts.

“Y/n, the panther sends her apologies. She is attending a meeting with the tribal elders and will have to reschedule your brunch.”

Are you fucking kidding me?

You rolled your eyes and sighed loudly, “Thanks, Griot.”

You got up and gathered the rest of the food, taking the leftovers to the kitchen. Once back in your living quarters, you decided to do your hair. It had been a minute since you switched up styles and you needed to shake off this disappointment.

After setting up your workstation with packs of hair, a crochet needle, rubber bands, eco gel, and a rat tail comb, you put on your favorite show. The style you were going for was going to take quite some time and you were glad to have access to all the episodes; Shuri had created a VPN for your devices once you moved to Wakanda full time and you wasted no time putting it to good use. Raising your arm, you used your kimoyo beads to take a photo of your setup and sent it to Shuri. She opened the photo but didn’t respond.

10 hours later, your arms felt as heavy as bricks. Not even the food breaks in between could lessen the pain. The soreness had started to set in and your body wanted to give up. Section after section, you paved your way through your thick curls; taming them and finishing out the afro-bubble braids. After decorating your hair with gold adornments, you looked at the clock. 11:55 PM?!

One painful clothing change later, you stood in only your sweatshirt dress and stretched out your limbs.

“Griot, is Shuri still in the lab,” you asked, stepping into your slippers.

“Yes, y/n. She has asked not to be disturbed.”

Oh the fuck well, you thought to yourself. You planned on doing much more than just disturbing her.

The blaring drums of afrobeats sounded through the entrance of the lab. Turning the corner, you saw Shuri working intently. Her clothes were different than what she wore this morning. She wore a sleeveless black crop and a matching pair of joggers. Your eyes traced down her toned arms and caught sight of her exposed midriff. Memories of your bodies entwined in intimacy flooded your mind, causing your mouth to go dry.

“I can see you, nkosazana,” Shuri said, disrupting your thoughts of arousal.

You shuffled in and sat on her desk behind her.

“I thought I had Griot inform you that I did not want to be disturbed.”

“Eh, you missed our brunch so maybe this is payback?” She only chuckled in response and you crossed your arms in a huff. Swiping away the interface, she turned to face you. The look on her face as she walked towards you made your stomach tighten with anticipation.

“What would you have me do? Leave Wakanda to its own defenses with no tech to protect them? All because you’re a needy little brat?” You watched as she slid her hand up your calf.

“Well, I miss you when you’re not there—“ your breath hitched as she opened your legs, settling between your thighs. You watched her hands roam your thick thighs.

“You miss me? Or do you just miss my touch?” Shuri slipped her hands under your dress and gripped your hips; pulling you to the edge of the desk. She moved in closer, her lips just a whisper away from yours; silently challenging your sense of control.

“I just miss you.”

“Hm. Your hair looks beautiful. Did you do that just for me?”

You whispered a yes as her roaming hand finally reached the end of its journey, touching where you needed her most. She swiped a single digit up your dewy slit and you bit your bottom lip to quell a building moan.

“So wet for me already, sthandwa. Is this what you wanted,” she asked, rubbing painfully slow circles around the jewel between your lips. You nodded hastily and held onto the desk for dear life. She smiled widely at your movement.

“All you had to do was ask. Are you going to be good for me, Y/n?”

“Yes, yes, I’ll be good.” She took your words as a promise and lifted the dress over your head, leaving you exposed and dripping with desire. She grazed her hands over your breasts, kneading one of your erect nubs between her fingers. You moaned in delight at the feeling and crashed your lips into hers; nipping and sucking on her bottom lip.

Shuri pushed you back and you shivered from the coolness of the desk against your back. Her fingers returned to your pussy, inserting two fingers and pumping them in and out of your velvety walls. Your body clenched around her fingers as she built a steady pace. A loud whimper of her name escaped your mouth and echoed in the empty lab.

“You sound so beautiful when you say my name like that, sthandwa. Let me hear it again,” she practically moaned with you, reaching her free hand to grab something out of her desk. A buzzing noise sounded in your ears and you felt it before you could question it. Shuri moved the vibrator around your clit as she built up the pace of her fingers. The lewd squelching of your pussy was like heaven to her ears.

“Fuuuuuuck, I don’t think I can hold it, baby.” The vibrating on your clit was threatening to undo your very being. The build-up was beginning to be too much as the familiar coil in your middle continued to tighten. Your release was just within reach and you needed it desperately. Shuri leaned over you, kissing your neck and whispering into your ear.

“I want you to cum for me, nkosazana, but I don’t know if you deserve it,” Shuri uttered before moving down to take your left nipple in her mouth, sucking on it intently.

“Shuri, please!” Your back arched as her finger scissored in and out of you, hitting your g-spot. She trailed kisses along your chest before slowing her pace to a stop; taking the vibrator away as well. Your complaints fell on deaf ears and she grinned smugly. Your throbbing clit only added to your annoyance.

“Don’t give me that face. I told you about disobeying me,�� she said, pulling you up to a sitting position. Shuri helped you put your dress back on, being mindful of your fresh braids.

“Baby, that’s not fair—“

“I don’t want to hear it. Now go sit over there. This last algorithm should only take a few minutes.” She lifted you off the desk, her hands lingering on your ass. You rested your face on her shoulder and groaned in discontent, causing her to laugh.

“If you would just behave, you wouldn’t be in this mess.”

Graphic Divider by @firefly-graphics

#black panther #shuri x fem!reader #shuri x reader #fanfic #shuri smut #mcu shuri #black panther shuri #black panther x reader #black panther wakanda forever #wakanda forever #bpwf spoilers #shuri x black!reader #shuri udaku #shuri x you #vibranium strap #dom!shuri

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bakerstreethound · 1 year

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Protector, Lover, Fighter

Relationship: Namor x afab!reader

Warnings: 18+ Smut, possessive/soft Namor, and slight feels.

Summary: Namor comforts you after a long day wanting to be close to you and lavish you in the gifts and adoration you deserve, for he is but a benevolent king.

All writings belong to me @bakerstreethound (Do NOT claim, repost, copy or translate my works to other sites. I only publish here and on A03 under the same username)

Word Count: 967

A/N: Soft Namor has been itching at the back of my brain, and I decided to give it a go while still trying to stay in character. Namor can be soft with those he loves and come on those puppy eyes he was giving Shuri throughout the movie were irresistible. Graphic by @firefly-graphics Comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

You were exhausted by the time you made it to your room immediately collapsing onto the bed, falling into the soft silken sheets Namor insisted on providing for you.

It’s not until many hours later when your eyes fluttered open and you feel a brush of a finger along your forehead brushing away a strand of hair that you remembered. You’d forgotten to visit Namor and yet he was here hovering over you like a worried puppy, his expression soft and full of adoration.

“I was worried when you didn’t arrive,” his voice was calm and soothing making you feel more relaxed, but you knew the power he held within his reach and you were certain you’d have to face his wrath. He would tear down any empire for you to bring you back home safely to him.

You gazed at him warmly leaning into his touch, your lips parting to accept his gentle kiss. “I assure you I’m quite alright now Ku’Kulkan,” you say gently as your hand rested on the nape of his neck, deepening the kiss to reassure him.

He fell into your touch, his hands wandering along your body loving the way you responded to him in kind. You brush your lips along his neck, your tongue darting out to taste the saltwater on his skin and groaned at the taste.

He pulled you closer to him, a silent silent request to return to bed with him and he smirked, backing you up to the bed as he pulled off your shirt, discarding in unceremoniously on the floor. In an instant he captured your lips with his, his hands grasping your breasts, squeezing them before breaking away with a wicked grin.

“Close your eyes, my love.” His voice was quiet, laced with authority and you were already weak in the knees so you obey. When he’s certain your eyes are closed, your heart thrummed in anticipation as he slipped something over your head, the jewelry cold along your exposed skin, sending goosebumps flying along your body in its wake.

“You can look now,” he said softly nipping at your earlobe and you squirmed in response gazing down at the beaded shell and jade necklace adorning you. It glistened in the underground cavern; a piece of jewelry befitting royalty. You still hadn’t gotten used to how he spoiled you, but he was determined to give you the best of everything.

Your breath caught in your throat at the notion. Sure, Namor brought you gifts for he adored you but this was…your heart raced in your chest as you pulled him closer devouring his lips trying to express your gratitude.

He responded in kind, maneuvering so he had you pinned underneath him, bestowing the most passionate kisses to your lips as his hands wandered the expanse of your body, The sight of you beneath him in his adornments awoke something feral inside him with a desire to claim you as his and your grip tightening on his shoulders, practically clawing at his back was all the encouragement he needed.

The whimper falling from your lips encouraged him as he sucked countless marks down your neck, stopping at the swell of your breasts adorning them with kisses and squeezing them, and causing you to groan.

In desperation for more he intertwined your fingers straddling you just right, smirking at the way you try to squirm against him. But he won’t let that happen for he enjoys you at his mercy, utterly succumbed to him.

“Stay still, you’ll get what you want…eventually.” His grin was menacing, eyes hypnotizing as they bore into you and your heart rate beat quicker at the notion.

When he released your fingers from his hold, you cling to his shoulders before he tugged off your pants and sliped two fingers inside you, relishing the way your body arched and responded to him. He picked up the pace ensuring to draw the sweetest noises for you and it made his cock twitch in antocipation, watching you this way, opening yourself up to him and letting him bring you to the precipice of pleasure.

And when he finally worked his full length inside you he couldn’t help but groan at your words.

“Please, yes…hell just like that…” He filled you completely, making you feel whole once more and when he continued working you both to the edge as you panted, gasped and begged more, you swore a tsumani followed in the wake of the aftershocks when your gaze snapped to his.

He was beautiful, handsome, your protector, your lover, your king and you knew deep in the depths of your heart you would worship him and no other for you were completely and irrevocably his.

He never voiced the same, but as he gazed down at you, waiting for you to catch your breath in the aftermath of your releases. He lets his hands wander once more admiring how you trusted him completely and adored him as fiercely. You were his greatest fighter, his greatest lover and he vowed every day to protect you and his people. He admired the necklace strung around your neck, bringing you in for a kiss once more. You return it in kind stifling a yawn.

“I think I’m due for a nap my dear,” You chuckle.

Without hesitation he rolls to his side, gently tugging your waist to pull you you closer and he adjusts to where he can hold you in his arms and you nuzzle into the planes of his chest, tangling your legs with his.

He sighed in contentment, his chin resting on top of your head, whispering sweet nothings in your ear and you find yourself drifting to the beating of his steady heart as Namor quietly thanks the gods for sending you to him.

******

@bakerstreethound @starks-hero @feral-for-strange @wint3r-h3art @lilythemadqueen @novaracer27

#namor x reader #namor imagine #namor smut #namor x you #namor fanfic #wakanda forever #tenoch huerta namor

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itaintenough · 1 year

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m’baku, under his breath: future husband says what

namor: what?

m’baku: [screeches internally]

#m’baku was down bad for him #he was literally reading fanfics of him #up in the mountains #black panther #black panther 2 #black panther wakanda forever #m’baku #winston duke #jabari #wakanda #namor #tenoch huerta #tenoch #kukulkan #talokan #black panther incorrect quotes #incorrect black panther quotes #black panther imagines

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axailslink · 1 year

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What's sexier in black?

LETITIA fucking WRIGHT

And she wearing the grills good LAwDY

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flordeamatista · 1 year

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Waves of Love

pairing: Namor x reader

concept: When you look into the water, you see the reflection of love.

word count: 1k

warnings: poetic fluff, soft smut (fingering), beach soft smut, kisses, ocean love, slight angst but just amor, In k'áatech = I love you; Meent' uts= please; In yakunaj= my love nikté =flower, Itzia: = princess,

a/n: You have no idea how much I love Namor and what he is representing for my people. This is for my Latinos/Latinas amores

beta read but all mistakes are mine: @mrsmischief209

gif and moodboard made by me

line divider by the lovely @s-tarksintern

Masterlist

Let your love warm me up while you are here

There is peace in the blue sky, the sand, and the endless ocean.

Lost loves have moved on without you, leaving you with nothing but sand beneath your feet and a sense of being abandoned on this land. The waves wash up and down on your toes, telling you that the lost souls in this world are dead.

This beach, however, is special to you because it is the only place where you can breathe and where the ocean caresses your body.

Thanks to him.

Ku'ku'lkán

As you called him on the shell, you got a sense of new, refreshing outlook on life.

I will do everything in my power to bring you out of the shadows in this collapsing world

You will discover a deeper understanding of yourself and life if you give the waves a chance to speak to you.

Namor.

Yo daré mi vida entera para el.

From the waves you see him emerge, and here you are giving him a chance and filling your heart with love. While you close your eyes, the sunlight warms your face. As he emerges from the sea, you can hear the wind whispering his song.

He sees you standing there and sees the dress around you, thinking of how it won't be allowed in his ocean. A smirk spreads across his face as he walks toward the shore with the sun shining on his golden spear.

There will be no one dearer to him than you and his only love. Weeping tears of loss and loneliness at the sight of the night. He promised you, when you shared your fears with him, there would be no fears allowed, as the ocean is feared, but you would become his queen, so you will be feared by all.

Use the power as a weapon to heal everything.

There is no good to be found on the surface because of the history of greedy destruction, of love sacrificed for power, and of conquest. You give him hope for the future with your bright eyes and beautiful spirit.

The soft breezes of another world lullaby to you as you stop, sit still, and listen.. You are in his dreams, and you wave at him as sweet dreams fill your heart.

His brown eyes stared at you and let the sun burn away the fear, melting into a wave of pleasure for him. He kisses the hand of the most precious thing in his life when he lifts it to his lips.

You.

Your bare toes touch the deep of the ocean as he pulls you toward the water.

A laugh escapes you, "Namor."

His eyes danced as he teased, "I got you, Itzia."

"I-" You are trying to argue, but Namor is leaning forward and pressing his lips against yours, silencing you.

Because of this, my love, you are the brightest

During the kiss as your eyes fell shut, you didn't even realize he rips your dress floating somewhere in the water, his arms around your waist, and your legs around his waist.

"My pretty Nikté." Namor murmured with a soft grin, his thumb stroking down your damp cheek. You smiled against his palm.

"How did I get so lucky to have you, In yakunaj?" he murmured in clear amusement and kissed your forehead.

His fingertips ran down your body, leaving a gentle cooling effect. Your eyes widened in surprise as you suddenly found yourself underwater. Then, while underwater, he smirks and kisses you again.

When you look into the water, you see the reflection of love.

He holds your wrist against the sand tracing the bracelet he gave when he took you to his kingdom. He smirks as his hands trace down your bare legs, "Who is your amor”.

"Namor," staring up at him with an intrigued expression on your face. "Meent' uts, more"

Two of Namor's fingers slide inside your pussy, gently stroking you.The other hand traces against your stomach reverently. Gliding slowly up to your breast to caress the heated flesh.His face lights up at the sound of your pleasurable moans.

"Fuck!" you scream at the strong orgasm creeping up your body. When the heat and water cover your skin, your hands curl at your sides, begging silently for more as you try to hold on to the sand.

You may lose sand from your hands in this world, but He is not slipping away from you. A man who loves and fights for his people is Namor.

As soon as he removed his hands from your hip, he began lightly brushing his fingertips along the skin where his lips had been before. His love for your moans grows as he watches them evaporate into the fire. He may enjoy burning down the world for you, but he loves burning your body for him.

You wanted to be around someone like him, who had a primal look in his eyes.

Your eyes shine brighter than fire and reflect broken glass. You will open your eyes to love if you let me.

He presses soft kisses on your neck as he strokes his fingers around your inside. Bringing you the push and pull in the way of a tsunami as if he commands the water to his will.

In k'áatech

Water flowing as the love dousing the fire leaving just the love that flows between both hearts no more the physical body but the emotional

I'd like to go with you.

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risingoftime · 7 months

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i’m honestly very tired of seeing White writers festishize Black and POC characters in smut fics and talk down upon Black writers and their creations on here.

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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.

-- -- --

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black-is-beautiful18 · 1 year

Text

The Unexpected- The Proposal

K’uk’ulkan x Black!reader

A/N: This has been sitting in my docs for awhile now and I felt inspired so I finally finished it lol. I also used a translator for Yucatec Maya, so if it’s not all correct that’s why. Enjoy! ❤️

—————————————————

“I don’t get it. Why do I have to go?” Y/N demands even though it sounds more like a whine.

Shuri laughs and rolls her eyes playfully.

“We’ve been over this already. I have my own duties that conflict with my usual schedule. So today I need you to meet with him.” The princess explains as she busies herself with one of her latest projects.

“But I’m not a princess or a diplomat. You told me he has a temper. What if he gets upset that it’s me there and not you?”

Y/N leans against the table as Shuri looks up at her giving her an exasperated yet amused look. “You may not be a diplomat but you are sweet and that smile of yours is enough to put even the toughest of warriors at ease. Plus, you have something in common with the king. You’ll be able to relate in some way. Just take it from there.”

Groaning, Y/N puts her head in her hands.

“Fine. I’ll meet this fishman, but I don’t even know what to say to him.”

Shuri smiles. “You’ll do just fine. Use that brain of yours. Draw him in with your knowledge of Wakanda.”

Y/N rolls her eyes.

“As if he’d listen to me go on about our history when I’m sure he just wants to make sure you haven’t gone back on your word.”

Shrugging, Shuri looks down at her project which appears to have something to do with adjustments to her suit.” I’m not, but sending someone in my place is far better than no one showing up. Then we’ll have another problem on our hands.”

“Fine. I’ll go, but you owe me. This is not my thing.” Y/N huffs as she turns to leave.

“Thank you!”

“Yeah yeah!”

————————

Waves lap at the bank of the river as Y/N paces restlessly. She was nervous. So nervous that she’d nearly been late, which is very unlike her. If it weren’t for Aneka it’s safe to say that she’d still be tearing apart her closet right now. Wearing a sleeveless teal sundress, gold bangles, matching necklace, and a pair of sandals the Dora accompanying her assured her that she looked perfect. Her braids were up in a ponytail. The gems she’d carefully placed there this morning glimmering in the sunlight. Now all she had to do was not blow an alliance with a dangerous underwater kingdom ruled by a king who’s people worshiped him as a god…No pressure.

According to Shuri, now that the alliance was in place the king had…calmed down a bit. However, she warned Y/N to be on her guard since she would be a new face.

“Y/N please. If you pace anymore I think I will be sick.” A voice complains.

Offering a sheepish smile Y/N turns to Aneka and Nia who were with her today. Nia was new but good at her job, so that’s why she’d been given the task to come along. It’d be a good experience and Aneka trusted her.

“Sorry. I’m just nervous.”

“We’ve noticed.” Nia responds, giving her a soft smile in return.

“Shuri would not have asked you to do this if she thought you couldn’t do it. Take a deep breath and relax before you turn the sand to glass.”

Y/N glares at Aneka who shrugs. As she’s about to respond she sees movement out the corner of her eye. She’d pass it off as just a trick of the light or the fact that they are near water if it weren’t for the three presences she felt beneath the surface. They were steadily moving closer to the shore. Where did they come from? Usually she can sense things miles out or even leagues below the surface. How had she not noticed?

“We’ve got company.” Y/N mutters turning to the water.

She puts her shoulders back and quickly rehearses a greeting in her head only for her brain to short circuit as a man, flanked by two Talokanil, steps out of the water. Now don’t get Y/N wrong. She’d seen glimpses of the strange man when he and his people flooded Wakanda. Shuri had even told her of her time in the city of Talokan and described him in hopes that Y/N would be familiar with such descriptions. She was not. If she’d seen a man this handsome before…well she’d definitely remember him.

Water drips down his body and Y/N mentally yells at herself to stay focused. His friends really aren’t helping though. With their blue skin they’re both just as beautiful. However, their king is stunning. His winged feet only seemed to add to the strange allure he has about him. The way his jewelry shines in the sun and against his brown skin…Even with that intimidating spear in his hand Y/N is in awe.

Feeling a gentle nudge in her back Y/N nearly has a heart attack, but quickly covers it up with a smile as she steps forward.

“Hello. I am Y/N,” She dips in a graceful bow. “The princess sends her regards for she wasn’t able to make it today.”

The Talokanil behind the king exchange glances that don’t go unnoticed by Y/N. She feels butterflies dancing around in her stomach but works through them.

“I assure you everything is as it should be. Shuri simply had other duties to attend to.”

The king raises an eyebrow. “More important than our alliance?”

Y/N’s heart skips a beat at the sound of his voice. While his tone is inquisitive it also has a hint of playfulness to it. Well that’s good, right?

Y/N chuckles.

“To bear the role of the Black Panther means to always expect the unexpected. You never know when you will be called away. Surely you can understand that K’uk’ulkan.”

At the mention of his name, the king of Talokan seems to swell with what can only be described as pride. His eyes rake over Y/N taking her in before giving a charming smile that nearly makes her swoon.

“Well if that’s the case will you walk with me?”

Not expecting that response, Y/N’s jaw drops.” Um…”

She looks back at Aneka and Nia who give each other curious looks before Aneka nods encouraging her to accept. Turning back to him she notices that his companions seem to also be trying to figure just exactly what their king has in mind. However, seeing him embed his spear in the sand seals her resolve.

“I will.”

—————————

“So you are a friend of the princess?”

I chuckle glancing over at him.

“We’ve known each other since we were children. Though while I was learning the history of our great country and it’s spiritual aspects she took interest in the sciences and technology. Now look at her. The overseer of all our technology and an even more brilliant inventor.”

I pause and turn to him.

“Though I’m sure you know that already.”

He stops as well, a charming smile forming on his lips.” The princess has a brilliant mind, but I’m more interested in you.”

“Me? What could I possibly offer you?” With a furrowed brow and hands on my hips, I find myself to actually be interested in what he might say. The king obviously doesn’t know me, but he certainly acts as if he knows something.

The king glances back to where his own guards and the Dora stand further down the river. They’re a good distance away but still close enough should anything happen. Bast forbid that. Both groups stand rather awkwardly but they are determined to do their duty. He steps closer and a panic builds in my chest. With him this close to me I can smell the ocean. It’s always been one of my favorite smells but this makes me want to embrace him just so that I can take in more of it.

I notice the amusement in his eyes mixed with something else that I can’t quite place, and take a step back. He only follows me and I feel as if I’ve entered a game of cat and mouse. He is obviously the cat and I, unfortunately, am the mouse.

“K’uk’ulkan?”

I don’t mean to sound so uncertain or small but how can I possibly function with him so close?

His eyes roam over me for a moment before meeting my eyes once more. Leaning down, he takes on such an intimidating aura that I have to fight not to look away from him.

“I saw you that day.” His voice is low even though we aren’t that close to our companions. What he has to say is for my ears only.

“You move faster in water than any surface dweller I have seen. Stronger too.”

My eyes widen and he tilts his head to the side with a knowing smirk. At that point I do look away, setting my gaze on the water.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was ushered away just like most of my people.”

A click of his tongue and a low growl sends a chill down my spine.

“Mentiroso.”

My eyes shoot back to his and I stare at him defiantly. I don’t need my kimoyo beads to tell me that this man, this god, just called me a liar….and he’s right.

”I am not. You were seeing things.”

Even as I say it I see images in my mind of me diving into the river to rescue those who had been swept up by the waves or pulled into the water by Talokanil soldiers. K’uk’ulkan says nothing and I purse my lips keeping my facial expressions neutral. He begins to circle me slowly. Assessing me.

“…What do you want?”

“Nothing. I just find it…interesting. I don’t think I’ve seen anyone like you. Does your princess know?” He’s stopped behind me now but I refuse to face him.

“We grew up together and some things are hard to hide when you are so close.” What is he getting at?

K’uk’ulkan hums softly and walks back around me so that we are facing each other once more. His eyes are full of mirth and even mischief. Nervously I begin to fidget, twisting one of the rings on my right hand.

“I have a request.”

My eyes narrow. “I’m listening….”

Reaching down he gently takes my hand into his and lifts it to his lips. His hands have the roughness of a warriors but his lips are soft. Bast.

“Allow me to court you.”

It’s not a question.

“E-excuse me?” I mean to sound demanding. Make it sound as if he’s insane, but it all comes out in a surprised squeak.

My hand is still against his lips as he chuckles. It tickles a little.

“It is rather…traditional, but it would put many minds at ease if this alliance had more to hold it together. The elders have also been pestering me about giving my people their own queen mother and producing an heir.” He says it so casually that I’m left speechless.

I snatch my hand away from him and take a step back.

“I don’t even know you, and you are the reason Queen Mother is dead.” I hiss. The very mention of Ramonda sends a sharp pain through my chest. She treated me as if I were one of her own children. Losing her was devastating.

Stepping closer he takes my hand once more, holding it firmly so that I can’t pull away this time. “You and I both know that there are doubts on both sides. Would not such a moment ease their fears and allow us to move forward? To build trust?”

This man is crazy!

Preparing to pull away I freeze. He has a point. There are more Dora and soldiers patrolling the rivers. There have been whispers of evacuation plans in case another attack happens. I’ve sat in on the meetings of King M’Baku and the council. The elders are fearful that the Talokanil will go back on their promise of peace as soon as the first disagreement occurs. That this king who is worshiped as a god will want more….My heart speeds up as I go through the options. There aren’t many but I understand. I relax and look him in the eye.

“Give me time to think about this. Shuri…Shuri won’t be happy, and the elders will demand to know exactly why it is that you’ve chosen me. If I agree, you are asking me to expose myself. To also give myself to someone I don’t know.”

“I know this. That is why I will give you a week to consider and get things settled. Take this and call for me when the time comes. I will answer.” He pulls a conch shell from his waist and offers it to me. Gingerly, I take it looking at it curiously. When did he get this? Had I been so distracted that I didn’t notice it?

“I will call. I promise.”

A tender kiss is placed on my wrist this time and I almost swoon.

“I know you will…In Eek'e'.”

My star…

Before I can even react he kisses my hand and pulls away. He calls something to his guards but I’m too dazed to listen to the translation.

“Shall we?” The king of Talokan holds out his arm allowing me to take it. We walk back down along the bank of the river, the shell tucked safely in my free arm. I feel my face heating up as Aneka and Nia give me questioning looks as we approach. I am saved only when K’uk’ulkan turns to me, capturing my attention. “We will leave you here. Don’t forget what we have discussed.” Resisting the urge to roll my eyes, I nod.” Of course. I made a promise and I intend to keep it.”

I’m met with a scoff but I see the amusement in the god-king’s eyes. He nods and promptly turns around stepping back into the river with the two Talokanil soldiers following close behind. I watch their heads soon disappear beneath the water and I sigh wishing for at least another kiss on my hand or wrist.

“What was that about?” Nia’s light voice fills the air startling me out of my thoughts. That’s when everything comes crashing down and realization hits. With a groan I facepalm getting strange looks from the two women accompanying me once again. I offer them only one answer.

“I am in so much trouble.”

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