Mishipeshu ; Namor Mckenzie.

mishipeshu ; namor mckenzie.

read part one ; amor.

pairing ; namor x mutant!gn!reader

synopsis ; one rotten fruit does not mean the entire grove is to be thrown away.

words ; 2.0k

themes ; angst, fluff, mutant au, married au

warnings / includes ; black panther: wakanda forever spoilers, more or less a sequel to this fic, reader is a mutant and can transform into a creature known as the mishipeshu, mentions of colonizers and mutant bigotry, descriptions of blood and injuries

main masterlist.

Pain was not a feeling you were unfamiliar with. 

Your entire life, pain followed just behind you like a dark, stormy cloud hanging over your head. It was there when you left Talokan for the surface-world. It was there when the humans turned against you once they found out you were a mutant. It was there when Namor found you amongst them.

And for a short period of time, Namor acted as a barrier to the constant pain—a salve to your wounds. With him, you had duped yourself into thinking that the pain was gone. 

Now, as you stared him down with wide eyes and a clenched jaw, you realized just how foolish you’d been.

“You want to attack Wakanda…” you said, deathly calm, “because they won’t fight your war with the surface world?”

Narrowing his eyes, Namor stepped closer to you. The vibranium-tipped spear clutched in his fist glinted menacingly—you were lucky to have caught him just before his strike on Wakanda. “They killed our people.”

“In self defense!” you retaliated, throwing your arms up. “You were going to kill the girl! She is a kid!”

“I knew it,” your husband sneered. “I knew you still cared for the land-dwellers. After all they’ve done to you!”

There it was. Pain flared within your chest, crawling through the crevices of your ribcage and winding taut. The deep scars that ran down your abdomen and legs never went away, not after all this time—not even with your mutant powers. They were a reminder of their hatred. Of why you left with Namor and came back to Talokan.

“One rotten fruit does not mean the entire grove is to be thrown away, mi amor,” you whispered. Tears pricked the corner of your vision, and you swallowed the heavy lump in your throat. Head held high, you swam over to him, closing the short distance between the two of you. You placed a hand on his chest, just above where his heart laid. “Do not do this. You spared me when we first met—you showed me mercy. Do not tell me the person I fell in love with is gone.”

Conflict warred within his dark irises. This was tearing him apart, you could see it as clear as day. He gazed upon you with part frustration, and part longing. 

For you, only for you, did he take a second to reconsider. 

After a lengthy pause, he spoke again. “If I do not stop them now… we will never be safe from them.”

It seemed that his mind was made. 

“Is this what you want to be?” you spat out, stumbling away from him. “A king that rules through fear? The almighty K’uk’ulkan?” The last word was practically dripping with venomous animosity. 

“I love my people,” hissed Namor. It seemed like he wanted to get closer, but he stopped when you only drew yourself further away. “I love… I love you, mi vida.”

Scoffing, you shook your head. “Perhaps you do. But not more than your hatred for the surface-dwellers.”

The stagnant silence that stretched between the two of you was thick, bordering on torturous. Your husband could only helplessly stare at you. 

“I’m not going to let you attack an entire nation for protecting themselves.” Your words shattered the fragile quiet, like a hammer through glass. Namor’s eyes hardened. The fingers on his spear flexed.

“You can’t stop me,” he warned, uncharacteristically soft.

“I can die trying,” you replied, determined. 

Without having to vocalize it, you knew he was pleading with you to stand down. He tilted his head, regarding you with a wounded expression of betrayal. “You would die for them?”

“No, amor. I would die for you.” Locking your jaw, you rolled your shoulders and morphed into your mutant form—a Mishipeshu, as the land-dwellers called you.

And with that, you lunged. 

You dove at him with unsheathed claws, catching him by surprise and raking your talons down his face with a snarl. Despite his initial shock, he recovered quickly, effortlessly dodging your second strike, grabbing the dagger-like ridges on your spine, and yanking you back out of his way. 

“I will not fight you!” your husband roared. There were deep, jagged gashes running down the side of his face from where you scratched him, steadily leaking dark ichor and dissipating out into the ocean water. It broke your heart to see one of his pointed ears bleeding profusely—it seemed one of your claws had torn clean through half of the cartilage. 

His words fell upon deaf ears.

You swooped downward, sharp fangs sinking into the meat of his shin until you heard a sick crack of his bones cave in with the pressure, and you jerked back, trying to put as much distance between him and the shore as you could. An ear-splitting bellow erupted from his lungs at the pain, but you didn’t let go, only clamping down harder. The bitter taste of his blood hitting your tongue nearly made you gag with revulsion. Your spiked tail, thick and lined with scales the color of fire, was quick to come around and wrap tightly around Namor’s neck as you swam as quickly as you could.

Deep down, you knew there was no way you could hold him off, but you couldn’t ever live with yourself if you at least didn’t try to stop him. The Mishipeshu was more than twice his size, sure, but Namor had the strength of a thousand Talokan fighters combined. 

Sudden pain erupted through your front paw and a caterwaul of fury echoed from your lungs upon seeing his vibranium spear sticking out of webbed foot. Namor grabbed your tail, now limp around his throat, and shoved you away once more, ripping the staff out of your flesh.

“DON’T!” he ordered when you growled, preparing to jump at him once again. The wounds you’d inflicted on his shin and the broken bone made him swim with a minor limp, though you knew that must’ve hurt more than words could describe. “I’ve cut your tail off before—don’t make me do it again.”

It seemed all the commotion alerted the rest of the Talokan warriors nearby and they were by his side in an instant. They pointed their vibranium-arrowed staffs at you, fanning out around your husband. 

Namor studied you for a minute longer, noticing the genuine fear flicker behind the amber eyes of your Mishipeshu form. Slowly, you morphed back to your Talokan form—a clear sign of surrender. 

“I love you, mi amor,” you said to him with a trembling voice, despite the dozens of warriors and spears between you. “Never forget that.”

Swiftly, you turned and swam away. Away from Talokan, away from the war, away from him. You left a trail of blood in your wake, seeping from the gaping hole in your foot. 

“Stop,” Namor barked at the Talokan as they began advancing after you. “Let them go.” They halted immediately. There was a war to win—and he’d fight it with or without you. 

His own words rang in his head.

Let them go.

He found you on the warm beaches of Angola.

It’d been a year since you left Talokan.

He watched you from the ocean as you walked along the shore, stopping every so often to pick up small sea shells. It was a good thing it was nighttime, or else you would’ve seen him lurking amongst the clear waters. 

Perhaps a year ago, he would’ve stormed right up to you, wrapped his arms around you in a way that seemed almost foreign to him now, kissed you until the sun rose once more.

But he was a changed man now. 

He spent an entire year searching—and he knew better than to scare you away like that.

So he waited. 

A couple hours later, the early morning stained the sky with a tangerine haze, and you stepped out of your small beach-side hut in a matching orange tank-top. Around your neck were the seashells you collected the day prior, clacking against your sternum with each step as you made your way back to the shore. There was a figure among the horizon, and initially, you had just assumed it was an ambitious surfer, or a deep-sea diver of some sorts. 

But as the figure grew closer, you began to recognize the dark silhouette. After all—you fell asleep beside the very same body every night for years. 

When your husband emerged from the waters, you stood your ground, staring him down as he strode towards you. Droplets of water meandered down his tan skin, dripping down onto the fine golden sand. The vibranium jewelry he wore shone beneath the daylight, unchanged from when you last saw him.

You noted, with particular interest, that he wasn’t carrying a weapon.

“Took you a while to find me,” you said, so quietly that your words were nearly lost to the whispering wind. 

He studied you silently, dark eyes roaming over you, soaking you in. You’d changed quite a bit—hair cut significantly shorter than it used to be, a few more sun-kissed freckles spotting your skin, and a small tattoo etched into your bicep depicting a pointed ear. But you were still the same in many more ways; your eyes were wide, just like the way they always were when you were watching him, the small, faded scar on your jaw was still there, and you still had that gentle slope to your lips that Namor was never able to resist kissing.

Noticing his gaze directed at your tattoo, you shifted slightly so he could see it better.

“I had it tattooed so you’d always be with me, in a way,” you said, a hesitant smile gracing your lips. 

He stepped closer to you, still quiet.

“K’uk’ulkan—” you started, but he lifted a finger, effectively silencing you.

“Amor,” he croaked out, voice hoarse. “You call me amor.”

And then, he kissed you. It was nearly visceral, how he hooked his arm around your abdomen, and tucked his other hand against the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair as he leaned into you. His nose knocked into yours almost painfully, but neither of you minded. Both of your hands were splayed over his chest, digging your nails into his pectorals, brushing against his warm jewelry. You trembled against him, a scalding tear slipping down your cheek, mingling with the salt water still dripping down his hair. 

“I missed you… so much, mi vida,” he whispered once you parted ways, his forehead slanting over yours as he gazed at you with blatant affection. “I am so sorry—I was blind with hatred. And I didn’t want to listen to you because I thought backing down from a fight was weak. I didn’t know that living with that… that anger, and being merciful to your enemies is the strongest thing a leader can do. Shuri had every opportunity to end my life a year ago. She wanted to—I could see it in her eyes. But she didn’t. And for the longest time, I was left wondering why. I realized that if we succumbed to our hatred, we would be no better than the surface-colonizers. You were right, mi vida. I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, amor,” you uttered, breathless, snaking your arms over his neck and pressing your nose against the column of his throat as you embraced him, breathing in his scent. He smelled of sunlight, of coconuts, of salt. How you missed him. “I missed you, too. I love you so much.”

He grasped your chin between his pointer finger and thumb, lifting your face so he could meet your gaze. He kissed you again, softer this time, his septum piercing grazing your cheek.

“Come home,” he mumbled, gently stroking your jaw with the back of his fingers. “Come back to Talokan, Mishipeshu.”

You bowed your head, hiding a brilliant smile. “If you’ll have me, K’uk’ulkan.”

I really need Anders parents going on holidays and Omar finding a way to stay at his place a few days

smushhedprompts; 5

(sksksiejueej not even joking i had this one planned and completely forgot,,, tysm for reminding me)

fandom: elite/élite

pairing: omar/ander (omander)

prompt:

nadia/omar & ander’s parents are all out of town for a long weekend (friday - monday) for a school event. nadia agrees to cover up for omar when their dad calls home, so he sneaks over to ander’s (he has the place to himself) with quickly packed bag of clothes. omander cuteness commences, obviously:

- ander borrowing the few hoodies that omar brought with him & not having shoulders as broad as his boyfriend’s, making them oversized - which results in constant sweater paws (‘that’s adorable.’ ‘shut up, i’m badass. i’m not adorable.’ ‘…your absolute denial makes you 10x more cute, i can’t control the laughing please stop hitting me—’), the hood pulled up and falling over his curls & forehead, the bottom hem slightly under his waist (‘i thought you were the tall, badass jock?’ ‘babe! it’s not my fault your clothes are so large.’ ‘no ones making you wear them, you know,’ ‘shut up, i love them.’)

- omar washing ander’s hair in the bathtub, while his boyfriend leans against his chest and babbles rants about how much better his life is without tennis, his latest favourite song/color + maybe omar teasing him about it (‘yellow, really? wouldn’t have called that,’ ‘come on!! have you seen sunflowers?? they’re so pretty, how could you not like yellow?’ ‘i do like yellow, mi corazón, i’m just teasing, oh my god’) and other random things because he just feels so relaxed & at home in omar’s arms.

- omar beating ander at a game of cards, and being ridiculously proud of it, while the latter just laughs because he cares a lot more about the fact that the former is happy than a stupid game.

- both of them struggling to cook pasta (‘it says boil for 50 minutes!!’ ‘50 minutes?? it says 5.0! how long have you had that on there for, babe?’ ‘why the fuck would they put a decimal in there?’ ‘calm down baby, it’s literally just pasta hah— FUCK i spilled cheese in the sauce bowl,’) & just ordering pizza and watching a movie cuddled up instead.

-

i’ll just…leave this here then…& maybe add more to it later…

lmao i’m screaming i went crazy with this one, write it and i’ll probably love you forever. it’s a bit long haha but if you like it, please don’t hesitate to make any changes, or just write it the way it is if you’d like :) ♡

I cannot stress enough how happy I was with Namora

Namor was portrayed as a dazzling, incredulous god-king: centuries old, battle-hardened, and vicious against anyone who opposes him.

Now, let's play a game. Which of his generals do you think is crazier? The giant with the battle axe and a hammerhead shark skull for a helmut... or the smaller general Namor ordained as his namesake?

im gonna need y’all writers to get to work because i need some namor smuts ASAP!

🌙

Black Panther: Wakanda Forever Imagine Ideas!❤️🤩🤌✨

PLEASE IF ANYONE MAKES A FANFIC / ONESHOT / FICLET BASED OF THESE PLEASE TAG ME- *ahem*:

1)Kind of long and specific,oops- (This is so cringe 🥲)

+One where the reader lives with Namor after the war and is already insecure but it's not really a thing that affects the reader too much.

Anyway, but they see how much of a good connection he has with someone else , it's platonic but we are slightly blinded by insecurity (Like Shuri , just an example) and realizes that compared to them(His interest), they are just kinda boring and aren't as good looking or roughly something like this (Shuri and Namora are POWERFUL AND BEAUTIFUL).

And they kind of just start distancing them selves OR is trying to play secret matchmaker with Namor and [example] in fake happiness because they think Namor should move on and leave them(them is the reader) Imagine a Happy ending, I can't handle a sad one, like he or someone else finds out and the rest is up to your imagination.

2)

Shuri spending a lot of time on her technology instead of the reader and the reader questions her love, THEN IT BECOMES FLUFF

3)

ANY ATTUMA FIC, ANY ATTUMA FIC, ANY ATTUMA FIC, ANY ATTUMA FIC, ANY ATTUMA FIC.

4)

Reader is an outsider of either Wakanda or Talokan and the reader has seen someone from [Wakanda or Talokan] , interest examples: Namor, Namora,Shuri,Nakia,etc. And just fangirls from afar till the interest catches them and confronts them, like- ' Who tf are u?'

I'll add more if I think of more and again if you make something based off of here, PLEASE TAG ME-