I WOULD SHARE BUT LIKE ME WHEN MY OPM PLAYLIST IS KINDA TRASHY

I WOULD SHARE BUT LIKE ME WHEN MY OPM PLAYLIST IS KINDA TRASHY 😭

"beloved."

Pairing: Namor x Filipino!Reader

Rating: General Audiences, Comedy

Summary: You ask your... "sorta" friend what the meaning of his other name is. His answers break your heart, so you take matters into your own hands.

Word Count: 2,516

Content Warning: Mentions of colonialization

Disclaimer: Again, as mentioned before, Namor is slightly cold towards the reader! He isnt hateful or anything, just has his guard up bc of surface world resentment. Though, that guard can be taken back down sometimes ;)

a piece of your history.

a piece of your history.

a piece of your history.

__________

The soft tune of a Filipino song played in the air, its melody dancing along with the sounds of the waves hitting the sand. Namor could only make out a few words within the song as he remembered the few phrases you had taught him. The melody was nice and eased his nerves, though he would never admit that to your face.

“What did they call you again?”

Namor blinked, processing your sudden question for a few seconds. Before you had suddenly asked him a question, you were both simply by the shore of the beach you frequented, with him in the water and you in the dry sand as usual, reading to him aloud a book that had come across your interests.

He looked at you questioningly, causing you to sputter over your words. “Oh! I meant what the Spaniards had called you when they…” You trailed off, fearing that you may have crossed a line with him this time. You knew how sore the topic was already, despite not knowing the full details as Namor refused to show any hint of vulnerability with you (or so you thought).

“What I mean is…” You cleared your throat, already bracing yourself for his reaction. 

“.... Why do certain people have to call you ‘Namor’?” You finished, closing the book, shifting to fully turning to him, indicating that you were paying special attention. The cogs clicked in place in Namor’s head as he finally understood your question. He noticed that you had said ‘certain people’ instead of enemies, likely the reason being you two weren’t exactly enemies nor friends in both of your books. 

“Uhm, you don’t have to answer if it’s too… y’know….” You quickly added, waving your hands in a dismissive manner. Namor’s eyebrows raised at you, causing your face to heat up. “I mean… alam naman natin na gago sila…” You quickly mumbled the last part. 

Namor seemed to be deep in thought for a moment, before he shook his head and chuckled. “No, I can answer if you would like me to.” 

Namor ran his fingers through the water, clearly contemplating on how he should approach your question. He smiled bitterly at you as he remembered the hateful memory. Your hands immediately went to your phone, turning the volume down on the classic OPM playlist you were playing.

“When my mother died, she asked to be buried in her homeland,” He started, playing with the wet sand underneath the water. Namor smiled, a loving look overtook his bitter expression.

“She wanted to show me the surface world and its beauty.” Her soft and caring smile flashed in his mind, it was as if he could still remember the days where she hugged him with such care. His mother was always so gentle, so sweet with him. 

The prolonged gentle expression on Namor’s face was an unfamiliar one, as it was often hardened or practically deadpanned at you. You were only used to the occasional soft glimpses in his eyes.

A small part of you wished you could see this type of his face more, but that was crossing the line in your book.

“But, when I arrived…” Namor’s expression soon darkened. “They were here.” You winced, knowing exactly who he was talking about. He grit his teeth.

“They called me… ‘El Niño sin Amor’.” 

He looked back at the sea, feeling that if he stared at you, you would see nothing more than hate and anger burn in his eyes, a look that would most likely scare you away. You don’t know if it helped, but you nodded understandingly, almost as if implying that he can feel if he wants to.

Namor could remember the look of fear and hatred in the man’s eyes, as if the Spaniards didn’t force him and his people to retreat in the ocean due to the illness inflicted upon them by the colonizers, before enslaving those who remained on land. 

“The child without love, as they boasted.” Namor spoke in a rather biting sarcastic tone. Though he was smiling, the grin on his face was one of anger, holding no genuine joy or happiness in it.

“I took Namor from that, because I have no-” His eyes locked with you for a brief second before he averted his gaze. “-love for the surface.”

Your fingers played with the cover of the book you were holding, as you frowned even more and stared at him in disbelief. 

“Luh? So bale, you were called a loveless child,” You began, a startled impression on your face, “just because you killed the colonizers after they basically enslaved and killed your people?” You asked for clarification, scrunching your eyebrows in confusion. Namor nodded, a rather grim smile on his face.

“Aba, ang kakapal ng mukha nila ah…” You grumbled, before muttering something about how hypocritical and barbaric they were. Namor smiled gratefully at you, knowing you shared the same sentiment. 

He sighed, as if tired of having to relive the same memory over and over again. Namor looked back at the sea, a subtle slouch in his posture now. 

For a moment, you both sat there in silence, contemplating the lives of those who lived before (at least in your case) you. So many of Namor’s people were enslaved and forced by the Spaniards, yet they dare to call him the loveless child?

You pursed your lips, your eyes looking over Namor.

He wasn’t a child without love. His mother had loved him so, it was obvious by the way his voice would hush into a gentle baritone each time she was brought up.

His people loved him so, or at least, that’s what you can make up from his stories. You’ve only ever been able to gaze at them from afar in the sea, whenever they occasionally came to check up on him. Though with the way they addressed him you could easily see the fondness.

An idea popped into your head, though you were a bit hesitant to actually do it. 

“Hey,” You called out, scooting closer to him, the waves licking at your feet. Namor rose an eyebrow at you, though your invasion of his personal space did not deter him.

Finally, you sat in the water next to him, perhaps this was one of the very few times you were both less than three feet apart. Namor’s mouth opened, about to tell you off that your clothes were getting wet and rather quite see-through.

You snickered, a mischievous look overtaking your eyes, a look that Namor was quite familiar with. Too familiar with it, he adds to himself. 

You pointed at his face, before your pointer finger came into contact with the scrunch between his eyebrows.

Namor’s brain went blank, processing exactly what you had done to him. Before he can even make a reaction, you cut him off.

“Iniirog.” 

You started slowly, gauging for his reaction. Namor’s eyes narrowed at you, confused but not offended. Your smile soon went into a toothy grin. 

“Sinisinta.” 

Namor grabbed your wrist and pulled away from your finger, clearly puzzled. The soft, cool touch of his damp fingers sent goosebumps up your back, but you continued nevertheless.

“Kinagigiliwan.” 

You were practically giggling at this point, leaning your body towards him, as if to tease him about the words you were uttering, completely dismissing that he had not understood what you were saying.

Hesitantly, your hand went to reach for his, causing him to flinch. You took Namor’s hand between both of yours, softly tracing the palm lines on it. 

“Minamahal.”

His senses were being overloaded, the low volume of the OPM Playlist still playing in the background, though it felt as if it was echoing rather loudly in his ears.

Namor’s eyes met yours, he remembers what the word “mahal” means. But that couldn’t possibly be what you’re saying, right? Were you instead perhaps meaning another thing? (He was sure that mahal meant expensive as well, were you just messing with him and calling him expensive?)

One of your hands stopped playing with his and reached towards his face, caressing his cheek softly. You contemplated running a hand on his pointy ears. However, you decided you wanted to keep your hand intact with your body.

Namor could do nothing but stare at you, his free hand coming up to hold yours that was on his cheek, though he made no move to remove your hand. If you were to look closer, it was as if he was leaning into your touch. 

Your thumb softly grazed his upper cheek.

“Nagmamahal.”

With the way Namor talked fondly about his people, you couldn’t help but notice the love and adoration in his eyes. He truly loved his people and protected them with his whole heart. 

Even if Namor couldn’t fully understand what you were saying to him, he could still somewhat comprehend what you were trying to say.

Namor was not a child without love, he has loved and has been loved. He will continue to love and he will continue to be loved, you were sure of that.

To your and his surprise, his eyes fluttered close as he leaned into the warm touch of your hand against his damp cheek. The feeling was scorching against his cool skin, yet it brought comfort to him even so. 

A part of him wanted this moment to never end, the soft tunes of your mother tongue playing in the background, as you practically showered him with affection that you two had an unspoken agreement about.

Soon, however, you couldn’t help yourself.

The hand on his face traced his cheek softly, before it came and pinched it rather aggressively. 

Namor’s eyes snapped open as he suddenly experienced a rather painful pinch to the cheek. Your ninangs would be proud of you if they saw the red mark on his skin right now. You snickered, making kissy-faces at him.

“Bebeluvs~” He deadpanned at you, fully knowing the sound of your rather trickster voice.

“My sexy, sexy love!” You finished, laughing so much your stomach hurt. You knew that Namor probably wouldn’t get the reference, but you couldn’t help yourself from quoting none other than the queen herself, Kathryn Bernardo. 

You were still laughing, peeving Namor a bit. This caused him to pull away from your touch and some distance between the two of you. The laughter soon died in your throat, as you instantly sort of regretted the fact that you ruined the moment. Shet, maybe you should’ve maintained the wholesome moment just a bit longer.

You fully expected him to stand up and leave you there in the water again, already used to him doing it with the many, many times you’ve tried to trick him into saying rather comically funny words in your language. Namor could always figure you out, though it may be because of the way you haven’t been able to stop yourself from laughing each time.

To your surprise, he simply stayed there, a contemplative look on his face as he looked down at the water he was in. 

You cleared your throat, scooting closer to him once again. You opened and closed your mouth, unsure of what to say next now that you have feared you may have offended him. Namor’s voice soon filled the one-sided awkward silence left in the air.

“Your words… What did they mean?”

You beamed at him, jumping at the chance to answer. “They can all actually mean different things! ‘Iniirog’ for example can mea-” A single stare from Namor shut you up from overcomplicating the answer, though it did not stop you from grumbling about the complex meanings of the words.

“Uhm, well, generally, they all kinda mean…” You whispered the last part, suddenly feeling shy and embarrassed that you had even started all of this. 

Namor sighed heavily, staring at you in dismay by your sudden bashfulness that always seemed to appear out of nowhere. “Ka a'alé, speak up.” His body turned towards you more as he leaned his head down in order to listen more carefully.

You shakily let out a breath, fully preparing to face his rageful wrath yet again. 

(You were exaggerating, the most he’s ever done is splash water directly into your face. Though it did go straight to your eyes once, you never forgave him for that.)

“Uhm, what I meant to say was…” You were stalling again, nervously fiddling with your fingers on your lap, flexing them under the water. 

Namor sighed. “If you can’t say them to my face, why say them at a-”

“THEY ALL MEAN ‘BELOVED’!” 

You practically shouted at him, shocking him to his core. You swore you could feel the water suddenly shift. Oh no, what if the Talokanil have been watching you all this time and you just shouted at their king?! 

“Or… Haha… Other things as well.” 

At this point, you were just trying to fill in the rather thick silence in the air. “But uhm, they could all also mean beloved.”

Meanwhile, Namor stayed silent at your confession. Have you been whispering to him such intimate words of affection all this time?

“All those words… were you calling me ‘beloved’?” At this, you shook your head slowly, confusing him even more.

“.... Actually, the last part means something else.” You felt like you were hyperventilating at this point. Perhaps you’ve ruined your favorite OPM playlist forever, as you will always associate it with this moment.

“The… The last part means ‘loving’...” You weakly replied, not daring to meet his eyes. You feel like you’ve royally screwed up, banished from the ocean even. Goodbye, night swimming, you will be dearly missed.

You slowly looked, bracing yourself for his reaction. The scene made your jaw drop, and Namor’s face would have been priceless to you if the situation hadn’t called for it. 

The flusteredness on his face would’ve caught anyone off-guard. The way his eyebrows raised as the corner of his eyes pinched at the corners. His lips were slightly open, as if to say that he was too shocked to even close his mouth. 

Soon, however, Namor finally came to his senses. He finally realized what you had been trying to say to him all this time.

They had called him “the child without love” in their spitting, hateful language.

And you had called him such loving words in your native language, as if to imply that they were wrong.

When you scooted closer to him once more, he didn't flinch or pull away this time. You blinked at his movements, noting the way he slightly leaned onto you again.

“... Dios bo’otik.” was the only thing Namor said after a few minutes.

You’ve talked to him enough to know what that means.

You gleefully smiled at him, before clearing your throat and relaxing your posture.

“Psh, ako pa? Wala lang yun, K’uk’ulkan.”

The soft tunes of the OPM playlist from your phone continued playing in the air, and the cold feeling of the water soon came to feel like a warm embrace instead.

Death and Dream in 1389!!

Hiiii!! I compiled a trashy OPM playlist that I think the reader would likely play whenever they're at the beach with Namor, and ofc, more songs will be added here whenever i find one that fits the vibe of these two :DD

"beloved."

Pairing: Namor x Filipino!Reader

Rating: General Audiences, Comedy

Summary: You ask your... "sorta" friend what the meaning of his other name is. His answers break your heart, so you take matters into your own hands.

Word Count: 2,516

Content Warning: Mentions of colonialization

Disclaimer: Again, as mentioned before, Namor is slightly cold towards the reader! He isnt hateful or anything, just has his guard up bc of surface world resentment. Though, that guard can be taken back down sometimes ;)

__________

Reminder: This fic is part of a miniseries, but can be read on its own! Miniseries fic(s):

a piece of your history.

__________

The soft tune of a Filipino song played in the air, its melody dancing along with the sounds of the waves hitting the sand. Namor could only make out a few words within the song as he remembered the few phrases you had taught him. The melody was nice and eased his nerves, though he would never admit that to your face.

“What did they call you again?”

Namor blinked, processing your sudden question for a few seconds. Before you had suddenly asked him a question, you were both simply by the shore of the beach you frequented, with him in the water and you in the dry sand as usual, reading to him aloud a book that had come across your interests.

He looked at you questioningly, causing you to sputter over your words. “Oh! I meant what the Spaniards had called you when they…” You trailed off, fearing that you may have crossed a line with him this time. You knew how sore the topic was already, despite not knowing the full details as Namor refused to show any hint of vulnerability with you (or so you thought).

“What I mean is…” You cleared your throat, already bracing yourself for his reaction. 

“.... Why do certain people have to call you ‘Namor’?” You finished, closing the book, shifting to fully turning to him, indicating that you were paying special attention. The cogs clicked in place in Namor’s head as he finally understood your question. He noticed that you had said ‘certain people’ instead of enemies, likely the reason being you two weren’t exactly enemies nor friends in both of your books. 

“Uhm, you don’t have to answer if it’s too… y’know….” You quickly added, waving your hands in a dismissive manner. Namor’s eyebrows raised at you, causing your face to heat up. “I mean… alam naman natin na gago sila…” You quickly mumbled the last part. 

Namor seemed to be deep in thought for a moment, before he shook his head and chuckled. “No, I can answer if you would like me to.” 

Namor ran his fingers through the water, clearly contemplating on how he should approach your question. He smiled bitterly at you as he remembered the hateful memory. Your hands immediately went to your phone, turning the volume down on the classic OPM playlist you were playing.

“When my mother died, she asked to be buried in her homeland,” He started, playing with the wet sand underneath the water. Namor smiled, a loving look overtook his bitter expression.

“She wanted to show me the surface world and its beauty.” Her soft and caring smile flashed in his mind, it was as if he could still remember the days where she hugged him with such care. His mother was always so gentle, so sweet with him. 

The prolonged gentle expression on Namor’s face was an unfamiliar one, as it was often hardened or practically deadpanned at you. You were only used to the occasional soft glimpses in his eyes.

A small part of you wished you could see this type of his face more, but that was crossing the line in your book.

“But, when I arrived…” Namor’s expression soon darkened. “They were here.” You winced, knowing exactly who he was talking about. He grit his teeth.

“They called me… ‘El Niño sin Amor’.” 

He looked back at the sea, feeling that if he stared at you, you would see nothing more than hate and anger burn in his eyes, a look that would most likely scare you away. You don’t know if it helped, but you nodded understandingly, almost as if implying that he can feel if he wants to.

Namor could remember the look of fear and hatred in the man’s eyes, as if the Spaniards didn’t force him and his people to retreat in the ocean due to the illness inflicted upon them by the colonizers, before enslaving those who remained on land. 

“The child without love, as they boasted.” Namor spoke in a rather biting sarcastic tone. Though he was smiling, the grin on his face was one of anger, holding no genuine joy or happiness in it.

“I took Namor from that, because I have no-” His eyes locked with you for a brief second before he averted his gaze. “-love for the surface.”

Your fingers played with the cover of the book you were holding, as you frowned even more and stared at him in disbelief. 

“Luh? So bale, you were called a loveless child,” You began, a startled impression on your face, “just because you killed the colonizers after they basically enslaved and killed your people?” You asked for clarification, scrunching your eyebrows in confusion. Namor nodded, a rather grim smile on his face.

“Aba, ang kakapal ng mukha nila ah…” You grumbled, before muttering something about how hypocritical and barbaric they were. Namor smiled gratefully at you, knowing you shared the same sentiment. 

He sighed, as if tired of having to relive the same memory over and over again. Namor looked back at the sea, a subtle slouch in his posture now. 

For a moment, you both sat there in silence, contemplating the lives of those who lived before (at least in your case) you. So many of Namor’s people were enslaved and forced by the Spaniards, yet they dare to call him the loveless child?

You pursed your lips, your eyes looking over Namor.

He wasn’t a child without love. His mother had loved him so, it was obvious by the way his voice would hush into a gentle baritone each time she was brought up.

His people loved him so, or at least, that’s what you can make up from his stories. You’ve only ever been able to gaze at them from afar in the sea, whenever they occasionally came to check up on him. Though with the way they addressed him you could easily see the fondness.

An idea popped into your head, though you were a bit hesitant to actually do it. 

“Hey,” You called out, scooting closer to him, the waves licking at your feet. Namor rose an eyebrow at you, though your invasion of his personal space did not deter him.

Finally, you sat in the water next to him, perhaps this was one of the very few times you were both less than three feet apart. Namor’s mouth opened, about to tell you off that your clothes were getting wet and rather quite see-through.

You snickered, a mischievous look overtaking your eyes, a look that Namor was quite familiar with. Too familiar with it, he adds to himself. 

You pointed at his face, before your pointer finger came into contact with the scrunch between his eyebrows.

Namor’s brain went blank, processing exactly what you had done to him. Before he can even make a reaction, you cut him off.

“Iniirog.” 

You started slowly, gauging for his reaction. Namor’s eyes narrowed at you, confused but not offended. Your smile soon went into a toothy grin. 

“Sinisinta.” 

Namor grabbed your wrist and pulled away from your finger, clearly puzzled. The soft, cool touch of his damp fingers sent goosebumps up your back, but you continued nevertheless.

“Kinagigiliwan.” 

You were practically giggling at this point, leaning your body towards him, as if to tease him about the words you were uttering, completely dismissing that he had not understood what you were saying.

Hesitantly, your hand went to reach for his, causing him to flinch. You took Namor’s hand between both of yours, softly tracing the palm lines on it. 

“Minamahal.”

His senses were being overloaded, the low volume of the OPM Playlist still playing in the background, though it felt as if it was echoing rather loudly in his ears.

Namor’s eyes met yours, he remembers what the word “mahal” means. But that couldn’t possibly be what you’re saying, right? Were you instead perhaps meaning another thing? (He was sure that mahal meant expensive as well, were you just messing with him and calling him expensive?)

One of your hands stopped playing with his and reached towards his face, caressing his cheek softly. You contemplated running a hand on his pointy ears. However, you decided you wanted to keep your hand intact with your body.

Namor could do nothing but stare at you, his free hand coming up to hold yours that was on his cheek, though he made no move to remove your hand. If you were to look closer, it was as if he was leaning into your touch. 

Your thumb softly grazed his upper cheek.

“Nagmamahal.”

With the way Namor talked fondly about his people, you couldn’t help but notice the love and adoration in his eyes. He truly loved his people and protected them with his whole heart. 

Even if Namor couldn’t fully understand what you were saying to him, he could still somewhat comprehend what you were trying to say.

Namor was not a child without love, he has loved and has been loved. He will continue to love and he will continue to be loved, you were sure of that.

To your and his surprise, his eyes fluttered close as he leaned into the warm touch of your hand against his damp cheek. The feeling was scorching against his cool skin, yet it brought comfort to him even so. 

A part of him wanted this moment to never end, the soft tunes of your mother tongue playing in the background, as you practically showered him with affection that you two had an unspoken agreement about.

Soon, however, you couldn’t help yourself.

The hand on his face traced his cheek softly, before it came and pinched it rather aggressively. 

Namor’s eyes snapped open as he suddenly experienced a rather painful pinch to the cheek. Your ninangs would be proud of you if they saw the red mark on his skin right now. You snickered, making kissy-faces at him.

“Bebeluvs~” He deadpanned at you, fully knowing the sound of your rather trickster voice.

“My sexy, sexy love!” You finished, laughing so much your stomach hurt. You knew that Namor probably wouldn’t get the reference, but you couldn’t help yourself from quoting none other than the queen herself, Kathryn Bernardo. 

You were still laughing, peeving Namor a bit. This caused him to pull away from your touch and some distance between the two of you. The laughter soon died in your throat, as you instantly sort of regretted the fact that you ruined the moment. Shet, maybe you should’ve maintained the wholesome moment just a bit longer.

You fully expected him to stand up and leave you there in the water again, already used to him doing it with the many, many times you’ve tried to trick him into saying rather comically funny words in your language. Namor could always figure you out, though it may be because of the way you haven’t been able to stop yourself from laughing each time.

To your surprise, he simply stayed there, a contemplative look on his face as he looked down at the water he was in. 

You cleared your throat, scooting closer to him once again. You opened and closed your mouth, unsure of what to say next now that you have feared you may have offended him. Namor’s voice soon filled the one-sided awkward silence left in the air.

“Your words… What did they mean?”

You beamed at him, jumping at the chance to answer. “They can all actually mean different things! ‘Iniirog’ for example can mea-” A single stare from Namor shut you up from overcomplicating the answer, though it did not stop you from grumbling about the complex meanings of the words.

“Uhm, well, generally, they all kinda mean…” You whispered the last part, suddenly feeling shy and embarrassed that you had even started all of this. 

Namor sighed heavily, staring at you in dismay by your sudden bashfulness that always seemed to appear out of nowhere. “Ka a'alé, speak up.” His body turned towards you more as he leaned his head down in order to listen more carefully.

You shakily let out a breath, fully preparing to face his rageful wrath yet again. 

(You were exaggerating, the most he’s ever done is splash water directly into your face. Though it did go straight to your eyes once, you never forgave him for that.)

“Uhm, what I meant to say was…” You were stalling again, nervously fiddling with your fingers on your lap, flexing them under the water. 

Namor sighed. “If you can’t say them to my face, why say them at a-”

“THEY ALL MEAN ‘BELOVED’!” 

You practically shouted at him, shocking him to his core. You swore you could feel the water suddenly shift. Oh no, what if the Talokanil have been watching you all this time and you just shouted at their king?! 

“Or… Haha… Other things as well.” 

At this point, you were just trying to fill in the rather thick silence in the air. “But uhm, they could all also mean beloved.”

Meanwhile, Namor stayed silent at your confession. Have you been whispering to him such intimate words of affection all this time?

“All those words… were you calling me ‘beloved’?” At this, you shook your head slowly, confusing him even more.

“.... Actually, the last part means something else.” You felt like you were hyperventilating at this point. Perhaps you’ve ruined your favorite OPM playlist forever, as you will always associate it with this moment.

“The… The last part means ‘loving’...” You weakly replied, not daring to meet his eyes. You feel like you’ve royally screwed up, banished from the ocean even. Goodbye, night swimming, you will be dearly missed.

You slowly looked, bracing yourself for his reaction. The scene made your jaw drop, and Namor’s face would have been priceless to you if the situation hadn’t called for it. 

The flusteredness on his face would’ve caught anyone off-guard. The way his eyebrows raised as the corner of his eyes pinched at the corners. His lips were slightly open, as if to say that he was too shocked to even close his mouth. 

Soon, however, Namor finally came to his senses. He finally realized what you had been trying to say to him all this time.

They had called him “the child without love” in their spitting, hateful language.

And you had called him such loving words in your native language, as if to imply that they were wrong.

When you scooted closer to him once more, he didn't flinch or pull away this time. You blinked at his movements, noting the way he slightly leaned onto you again.

“... Dios bo’otik.” was the only thing Namor said after a few minutes.

You’ve talked to him enough to know what that means.

You gleefully smiled at him, before clearing your throat and relaxing your posture.

“Psh, ako pa? Wala lang yun, K’uk’ulkan.”

The soft tunes of the OPM playlist from your phone continued playing in the air, and the cold feeling of the water soon came to feel like a warm embrace instead.

Like a house a-fire

His Queen

K’uk’ulkan x Filipino!Reader Blurb

Summary: K'uk'ulkan pays you a visit to ask you to become his queen.

Rating: PG 13+

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 1.5K

Note: Filipino!Reader is inspired by Marvel’s equivalent to the Filipino Superhero Pearl Pangan, also known by her hero name Wave. You can control water and have the same capabilities as a Talokanil, but you are still a land-dweller born and raised in the islands of Mactan, Cebu Philippines.

It is also worthy to note that I have not included any Yucatec Maya phrases despite Namor speaking in his mother tongue as respect to his language. Therefore his mother tongue shall be labeled with italics.

Hidden by the waves of saltwater was a man. But not just any man; K'uk'ulkan. The feathered serpent god from myths old and from legends foretold. Yet his divine countenance could not compare to your own. The water bent by your will, aides you at your beck and call. It surrounded you like a halo of shimmering fractals that danced around you with the flitters of a sea faerie from folktales. It was as if the sea was your bidding, yet it obeyed you like a knight to its queen. Such prowess came from disquieting origins, yet you wielded it proudly. Regally. 

He was enchanted by you.

There were no words to describe the blossoming heat from his chest, traveling from the pulsing veins of his fingertips down to the tingling crunch of fine white sand beneath his bare feet. You moved with the grace of dancing anemone, glowed as brightly as the stars of the evening sea that guided him through the throes of the darkened currents. No matter how many times he would see you, his breath always hitched. Time always stopped. 

Time was no concept for an immortal such as he, yet he found himself counting every precious second when he basked in your company.

“I know you’re there.” The sea rippled around him. He shook his head and chuckled.

“How did you know?” He rose from the depths of the water and stayed by the shore’s edge. The waves lapped at his winged feet pleasantly like a greeting from an old friend. His eyes trailed across your back as you glided your arms in a dance of tradition with the water accompanying your movements.

“You’re not subtle, K'uk'ulkan,” you did not turn to face him, but you regarded him with a sliver of ocean water snaking across his arms. K'uk'ulkan held the urge to let a pleasant shiver run down his spine. You chuckled, “I saw you peeking your head from the shore.”

“Is it unpleasant for you? For me to disturb you from your rituals.” He asked. Your hands stopped.

“Never.” You did not bother to correct him that your idle movements weren’t rituals. It was mere movements controlled by the crashing waves upon the loose sand, imitating the flow of the currents that shook with each stroke. An impulse, maybe. An urge to dance with the hymns of your orient motherland.

You finally turned to face him, eyes locking with a magnificent earthen oak. He chose this moment to shorten the distance between you, his fingers finding solace at the supple of your cheeks. He caressed the lids of your eyes free of seawater and lingered a kiss to your brows with a satisfied smile. 

“Then why call me out?” There was a mischief behind his words hidden beneath the whispers of ardor. You smiled.

“I would rather have your company than to let you linger by the sea. I know you wish for the same.”

You noticed his breath become albeit ragged—although it was but a sliver of a puff of air—so you willed the water to sustain his skin from the blistering heat knowing full well that he would stay with you until nightfall. The sun of Mactan, Cebu on the high end of summer’s afternoon was one of the hottest recorded in any index; it would harm K'uk'ulkan if you were to let him stay under it any longer. A thin dome of water covered the both of you and the light bounced off from the water to your skins. Picturesque as it might seem to the eyes of an onlooker, there was something much more beautiful in the eyes of K'uk'ulkan.

And that was you.

“Thank you, my love.” He spoke in his mother tongue. It was as pleasant and melodious as the wind chimes from your rattan house. It always filled you with immeasurable joy for him to use his language to speak so softly with you.

“Always,” you guided him to sit on the sand under a nearby coconut tree, water covering you at every step and wetting the exposed skin of K'uk'ulkan. A question prodded in the forefront of your mind as soon as you were settled and huddled between the serpent god’s legs, his arms wrapping around your waist and head buried on your shoulder, “why have you come to visit, my king?”

“Do I need a reason to see my queen?”

You sighed and shook your head, leaning back against his frame and turning your head to kiss the shell of his pointed ears. “A land dweller cannot be queen, K'uk'ulkan. You know that.”

“Yet one lay in my arms at this very moment.” He tightened his grip on your waist and peppered kisses against your neck. You tried your best not to humor his need for attention despite the growing heat that formed on your nape and cheeks.

“The people need a queen that is of Talokan blood. I can’t simply take that role.”

“Your achievements speak for itself,” he raised his head from your shoulder and kissed your cheek, “you have saved Talokan from the hands of scientists who tried to scour through the depths of our oceans, kept our secret well-hidden from the land dwellers, and you have kept your promise of aid to my kingdom in times of need. We have seen you divert ships away from our home with your riptides and currents.”

“That is hardly a reason. I’ve only repaid a debt.”

“And what debt would that be?”

“Sparing me,” your hands snaked towards the hands that locked itself on your waist. You drew circles against his skin as he sighed in content at the moment, “you had every reason to kill me when I stepped through the entrance of Talokan. You were a king who protected his people—I was sure I was going to die by your hand that day.”

“You intrigued me,” he supplied, his hands now taking yours and intertwining your fingers together, “you did not yield under my threats nor did you use the name my enemies have called me when I have antagonized you.”

“Namor,” you tried, the name foreign to your tongue, “I much prefer your real name, K'uk'ulkan. And why would I make an enemy of the king of a civilization that I have intruded?”

“You might be one of the rarer sane land dwellers.”

“I try.” You gave him an amused shrug.

“You are also special, my love,” he added, his mother tongue chiming through the warm pacific winds, “my people already revere you as a god of their own.”

“Me?”

“Do I really have to spell every word?” He placed two fingers on your chin and made you look up at the flowing dome of saltwater that you are effortlessly maintaining with your powers, “you control the sea. Our life source is at your beck and call. You can breathe like us, swim like us, and you could withstand the pressure of Talokan. You have garnered the love of our people.”

“Your people.” You corrected him. He shook his head and adjusted himself so he could lay his forehead against yours.

“Our people,” he stared into your eyes, the rich earthen gaze reflecting that of his love for the sea. With it also came the tremendous love he had for you; his queen. No one was fit to rule by his side but you. Although there might be reservations from others of his kingdom, they cannot refute the fact that you—an entity that controlled the tides of their home—were to be revered. Respected. 

Your benevolent rule will be the legacy of his choice. And it will be living proof for the people that you were the only rightful queen to sit by the right hand of his throne.

“You hold the strength of the sea at your whim, yet you choose kindness above all else. But you do not hesitate to use force when it is necessary. That is the true makings of a ruler. Your judgment astounds me, your beauty is simply divine. You are perfect, my love.”

“K'uk'ulkan…” his name was like a prayer to your mouth. It was ironic, you might say, for the prayers of the god of the sea fell into his attentive ears and returned the favor with worship—as if you were the divine entity and he the disciple. You felt his hands creep into the back of your head and pull you impossibly closer, his fingers tangling with your dampened hair from the obedient water from the ocean’s tide, his lips fluttering with the tongue of praise to you; his god. He regarded your meager stature like the statue of a Santo Niño. Holy. Sacred. 

He uttered your name in a breathless whisper that wavered the dome of water from your command. He might have found that amusing enough to release a minute chuckle. He was the only one who could sway your otherwise earnest control.

“This I ask again, will you become my queen and rule Talokan by my side?”