Namor X Filipino!reader Fic Is Done!!!

namor x filipino!reader fic is done!!!

Bro I’m not even Filipino but like

PINOY PRIDEEEEE🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️

OMG HDSGSDJHSDJH YESSS LETS GO PINOY PRIDE!!!!!!!!!!!! 📣📣📣📣 (even if foreigners use it to for their own benefit lmfao)

tags: @avaleineandafryingpan @queenotaku23 @cherryloaf

a piece of your history.

Pairing: Namor x Filipino!Reader

Rating: Mature, Comedy (No smut but there is tension)

Summary: It hurts to not be able to properly recreate your traditional pre-colonial Filipino clothing, and Namor takes notice of this feeling of yours.

Word Count: 2,578

Content Warning: Mentions of colonialization

Disclaimer: Namor is kind of cold and dark towards reader!! Idk if its ooc but i would imagine that he would generally be apprehensive towards a surface dweller. you have been warned

__________

“Do you like it?”

You asked, grinning, slightly turning yourself around in order to fully show off your work proudly.

Namor hummed, sitting in the water by the shore of the beach. He was always like this, meeting up with you now and again. 

“Is this the wear of your people?” He asked. You grinned and nodded, letting out small chuckles while fiddling with the fabric between your fingers. You had always wanted to make the Pre-Colonial traditional clothing of your Filipino ancestors, it was the closest thing you had of home as of now. 

The process was tedious, you admit that. So little resources or references online on how your specific region’s clothing looked– much less how it was made, due to how much the Spaniards burned and banned, but you had still managed to gather enough to make one as accurately as possible.

“It’s… beautiful.” He simply says, eyeing up the clothes and how it wrapped around your body, causing you to tear your eyes away from him in fear of showing how his compliment affected you in such a way. 

“Why have your people stopped wearing this? Are they not your traditional wear?” Namor asked, remembering the photos of your family that you had shown him. They were wearing what you had called a “baro’t saya” and “barong” for the celebration of “Buwan ng Wika” as he recalled it.

“It’s gorgeous, and made by the hands of your people instead of the colonizers.” He continued, “It escapes me on why your people have abandoned wearing your traditional garbs, instead choosing to wear what they gave you.” This statement slightly irked you, causing you to deadpan at him.

“Dude, we were enslaved and tortured by them for more than 300 years.” You crossed your arms. “Do you think we abandoned it willingly?” You were met with silence, and for once, Namor was the one who was left speechless by bluntness.

“... Right. My apologies.” Was all Namor could reply, causing you to let out a small laugh, shaking your head. It’s not often you’re the one leaving him silent, with him often bashing “surface dwellers”, causing you to regularly remind him that you yourself are a surface dweller. 

Namor never had a proper reply for that.

However, even if you were happy with your work, you still frowned and sighed. You dragged your fingers along the cloth, wistfully looking at its patterns. Namor’s eyes followed the way your face curled up to a grimace, causing him to frown even more (if that was even possible) in confusion. 

“It’s not much, though. The fabric’s sorta cheap ‘cause it was the only one I could find that had this specific pattern. I had to pick between comfortability or accuracy.” You sulked, sitting down on the dry sand close to him. You hugged your knees close to your chest, already itchy from the scratchy inside of the fabric.

“I chose accuracy, of course… for them.” You vaguely finished, slightly bitter on how hard it was to make your country’s real traditional clothing in an authentic way. You palmed the sand, looking for your bag before taking out your trusty cellphone. 

Ah, surface dwellers and their hand-held yet fragile technologies… Namor thought as you typed and scrolled away at your phone. 

“I mean, look at this!” You held your phone out, showing what appeared to be a real life replica of your garbs, just made in a better way. Namor narrowed his eyes in confusion. 

“So your people still make this?” 

“Well technically yes, but no? God, I wish, though. This is just a historical costume for entertainment…” You replied, huffing. 

“Tangina talaga ng Espanya…” You grumbled under your breath. Namor chuckled at you, as he had heard you swear in your mother tongue (he was sure it was a swear– it was literally the first word you had taught him) at one of your country’s past colonizers.

“Jay, ba'ax jaaj le je'elo'...” He replied, agreeing, though this did cause your face to slightly feel warmer. You would never admit it to his face, but him speaking his native language was kinda hot.

You let out a small chuckle, before wistfully sighing and looking at the sky. 

“You know… I’m kinda jealous of you and your people.” Namor rose an eyebrow at you, his head turning to look at you. You put your hands up in mock defense, clearly meaning well.

“I don’t mean it in a bad way! And yeah, you guys have faced struggles with pollution, junk and also colonizer stuff… It’s just… y’know…” You trailed off, suddenly feeling bashful. Namor’s gaze softened, as he nodded to indicate that you continue. You breathed in deeply.

“Well, I mean, you guys got to keep your culture intact, no outside forces ripping it away from you.” You mumbled, picking at the sand that got between your nails.

“No forgotten gods… no forgotten stories… no forgotten practices.” You longingly looked at the sea.

You snorted, though. “Even if they tried, you could still put up a fight and protect it.” You smiled at him, causing him to avert his gaze and look back at the ocean.

“I just… I just wish I could salvage at least a small part of it.” You finished, already feeling your throat close up and tears form in your eyes. God, why did you have to be so emotional? Putangina naman… 

For a beat or two, Namor stayed quiet. You already felt dread setting in your stomach, oh god. What if he had another diva moment and dove back in the water? Before you could panic even more, you heard the water move, as water droplets seem to fall from sky and onto you. You looked up in confusion, squinting your eyes at Namor, who had stood up from his place to sit closer to you.

“... May I see more of these garbs?” 

Your frown was replaced with a smile, as you swallowed back the lump and blinked away the oncoming tears. “Sure! I have so many saved and printed– it’s important to have references before crafting, after all!” 

Your signature grin was back as you happily took out what looked to be a plastic bag containing pictures that looked similar to your clothes. You happily explained away, showing him more and more photos– though he did notice that you had backed up a bit when he came a bit too close to your personal space. 

He followed along as you showed more and more photos– along with more pictures of Pre-Colonial jewelry that you wanted to replicate yourself. He noticed the way you would stop and longingly gaze at them, before continuing on with explaining.

Namor watched the way your eyes would brighten as you talked more and more about your history, before they would dim as you brought up on why it was not used by your people in the modern day anymore. 

“... And yeah, that’s pretty much what my own region wears! Though, it does get a bit tricky to see if it really is my region per say,” Namor looked at you, a bit confused but waiting for you to continue. Your smile grew wider. 

“All regions basically have a lot of similarities and differences! So sometimes it gets a bit confusing.” You rambled, before noticing yourself and getting a bit embarrassed. Namor softly smiled at you. 

“This just shows how rich the cultures of your people are, in etail.” 

You blinked before letting out a joyous laugh, surprised that Namor of all people complimented you! (Well, to be more precise, your heritage). You were about to reply before your eyes caught sight of the time on your phone. “Ay gago! Ang late na pala! I still have to call my parents!” You put on your coat over your work, before shoving your phone back in your bag. 

Before you could properly stand up, a hand on your wrist stopped you. Your brain loaded for a few seconds, your eyes following the hand and how it trailed back to Namor. “Come back here in two days time.” He asked (more of demanded).

You gawked at him, this was the first time he ever confirmed that you were going to see him! Most of the time, he simply came and went as he pleased. The look in his eyes already made it impossible to say no, so of course refusing him was not an option. 

“I-I…” You stammered, meeting his eyes that had so much emotion in them. You gulped. “Okay! See you in… two days, dude!” You quickly went on your way home.

Namor nodded at you, before he caught sight of the familiar plastic ziplock you had left behind. Before he could call out to you, you were already too far away, and if he were to approach you someone would surely see him.  

Namor watched your back fade from the distance, already confirming the idea forming in his head. He nodded to himself, before grabbing the ziplock bag and diving back into the sea, making sure to not let anything get wet. 

__________

You practically ran towards the beach as you grinned, excited that your.. Friend(?) or Frenemy(?) personally requested your presence. You cleared your throat and attempted to act cool, though severely failing, before sitting down by the drier parts of the sand, admiring how beautiful the waves looked. 

A few moments later, a familiar head peeped out from the water, causing you to laugh and wave at him. Namor uncharacteristically bore a grin at you, continuing to get out of water, the droplets from his hair magically disappearing with each step.

“I have a surprise for you.” was the first thing he said as he offered you a hand in getting up. You nodded, though a bit confused now. 

In his hands, you had finally taken notice of a makeshift waterproof bag tied by a drawstring along with a familiar plastic ziplock of papers. “Ay, onga pala! I accidentally left my papers…” You exclaimed, surprised that he kept them in such good condition.

Namor gingerly handed you the drawstring bag first, urging you to open it. “Please, have a look inside.” You hesitantly took it in your hands, noting the way the fabric practically had gold woven into it.

What you saw took your breath away, 

it was Pre-Colonial indigenous Filipino clothes! 

You ran a hand through them, the fabric being silky yet cool to the touch. Just as how Filipino clothes were theorized to be. Somehow, Namor had found a way to wove it with gold, just as what your research had said. You felt tears well up in the corner of your eyes, it felt like a piece of history was being given back to you. 

 “Well? What are you waiting for?” Namor’s voice snapped you out of your stupor. You looked back at him, open-mouthed and too shocked to reply. He chuckled at you. “Try it on, in etail.”

Namor politely turned around, silently trying to hide and bury the way he felt when he heard fabric shifting and the likely assumption of you undressing. 

Your breath hitched as the feeling of the fabric against your skin was a comfortable one. It was perfectly tailored and made for you, as if someone had memorized every inch of your body down to the smallest details, the robes fitting like a glove on your body. 

“You can look now…” You managed to practically croak out, forever feeling thankful at such a kind gesture from no one other than Namor himself. 

The moment Namor turned around, he swore that he felt slightly lightheaded from how you managed to take his breath away with just your look. You looked like you were in your natural element, your most natural state.

It almost felt as if this was how you were supposed to be. 

The way the gold-woven fabric hung off your own copper skin had him thinking of thoughts he swore he would never have of surface-dwellers, and perhaps the most euphoric feeling was seeing the look on your face; the genuine joy and happiness. 

But wait, something was missing. 

He narrowed his eyes at you before rummaging through the bag he carried with him. Namor gently brought out familiar looking jewelry, though with its own twist.

“These… are also for you.”

Namor took your hand and placed it in his, slipping on a rather detailed and delicately made golden ring. He took both of your wrists and placed on them gold bracelets adorned with what appeared to be a jade material.

All the while, he made direct eye contact with you. You practically shook under his gaze, deeming it to be too intimate. 

Before you could process anything more, you felt the heat of Namor’s body behind your back, as you heard gold clinking together. His hot breath fanned on the back of your neck, as the heat in your ears never seemed to go away. 

You felt a heavy weighted necklace be placed onto your collarbone, before a click behind you was resounded. Namor’s hands lingered for a split second on the nape of your neck, before he practically ripped himself away and stood back, afraid of his own actions.

Your breath left your body for what felt like the nth time in the past 30 minutes, as you took the necklace between your fingers and observed the intricate designs of gold and jade beautifully fused together. 

All of this jewelry should have felt heavy, but to you they felt as if they were perfectly crafted and made for you and your people. It was as if these were all made with heavy and careful detail, making sure that they perfectly aligned with your own practices but still with its own twist and charm from the gifter.

You could never take back what the Spaniards have taken from your country, but it felt like a lost piece of your own heritage was being directly gifted to you, you could practically feel the pride of your ancestors. This was all so overwhelming. 

“K'uk'ulkan…” 

Namor suppressed the heat he felt as his natural name rolled off your tongue in such a breathless manner. 

Now, it was your turn to surprise as he did not anticipate that you would tackle him in a hug. You buried your face in his neck, not scared anymore of what he’d do. Namor’s own hands hesitantly placed themselves on your backside, before they tightened around you.

“Salamat… Salamat talaga, K'uk'ulkan…” Namor felt hot wet tears drip onto his shoulder. 

He hugged back even tighter.

“Mixba’al, in etail.” 

__________

BONUS:

“Okay, now ‘putangina mo’ means I like you.” You said to Namor, though the way you tried to (and failed) to hold back your laughter made him doubt that that was the meaning of the phrase.

“Is it really now?” You laughed, nodding profusely. “Hell yeah it is! We Pinoys use it all the time to compliment each other! Like, ‘putangina mo tol, ang guwapo mo nakakabakla ka na!’ ”

“ ‘Nakakabakla’?” Namor narrowed his eyes at you. Were you just messing with him? You laughed even more, clutching your sides by how much it hurt.

“Gaga, uto-uto ka talaga.”

Namor had a deep feeling in his stomach that you were insulting him (he was right) so he stood up and sighed, walking back towards the sea.

“What the-! Hey! Where are you going?!”

“K'a' ak'ate.”

“Aw c’mon K'uk'ulkan! Can’t you take a joke?!”

He was already gone by the time you had said that.

attention - part two

pairing: namor x reader

chapter summary: namor shows you the wonders of the cave, away from your cell. you discover some horrible truths. a deal is struck.

warnings: namor is dark but not darker than he is in the movie, canon divergence, it's mostly just talking and tension

word count: 1.7k

a/n: the much requested part two! yes, i'm planning to continue the story. if you like it, please let me know what parts of it worked for you so i know what to include moving forward! shoutout to @lothkat for giving me some ideas!

part one | masterlist

Come with me. 

It’d been said in a tone that brokered no argument. And, shockingly, it’d been said to you. Not Shuri, the princess. Not Riri, the prisoner. You, the unrelated bystander. The idiot who’d begged a sea g-d not to kill your engineering genius roommate on the off chance that he’d be swayed. 

Namor had trained his deep brown eyes on you and bid you to come with him. 

And now you find yourself deep in the narrow pathways of an underwater cave, following him. Namor moves with a serpentine grace through the openings of the cave, ducking under low rock ceilings and around vibranium support beams that the Talokanil have added over time. His bare feet are silent against the cave floor, the only sound being the faint clinking of his many necklaces against each other.You keep your eyes trained on his back as he weaves around yet another corner before coming to an abrupt stop. 

“Here,” he says, gesturing towards a narrow corridor on the left. It is dark as far as you can see. Your shoulders, already tense, draw further into yourself.

“This is an incredibly elaborate way to kill me,” you say, your eyes searching his face for any indication that that really is his intention.

Namor’s brow twitches, something between amusement and bloodlust sparkling in the depths of his eyes. 

“I had no intention to kill you, surface dweller,” he gestures you forward again. Only after you begin to enter the dark tunnel does he add, “but it can be arranged.”

It’s so dark you can’t really see your feet. Namor’s presence lingers a foreboding warmth at your back. You take careful steps, hands tracing along the cold rock of the walls to keep you steady.  You walk for a short while in total darkness. And then, like it had been there all along, a soft warm light emerges up ahead. 

You stop walking. For a moment, your heart races with the irrational hope that he’s letting you go. But then you smell saltwater, feel the radiant heat of a large hand on your back. 

“Go on,” he says right behind your ear, and you’re filled with the certainty that wherever he’s pushing you, it’s not away from him. 

You walk on, until the light gets bigger and brighter, and the space beyond the narrow passageway comes into focus. When you finally reach the end of the tunnel, you can’t help the gasp that escapes your lips.

The low cave ceiling has opened up into a large, circular room. Clear water stretches from the narrow strip of land you’re standing on to the edge of the room, sparkling in varying shades of sapphire, jade, and aquamarine. A walkway of stone extends out into the center of it like a pier. The light you had seen earlier leaks in from the gaps in the cave ceiling, creating little spotlights on the water. 

Your heart pounds recklessly. Sunlight, you think, craning your neck to look up at the pinpricks of light. They sting your retinas and you delight in it. You never thought you could be homesick for the sun. 

You hear the soft clinking of metal, feel a presence at your side. Namor anchors you back to the cave, drags you back down into the ocean, away from the sun. 

“It’s beautiful, is it not, surface dweller?” You think he must be taunting you, but when you turn to him, there’s a whisper of softness in his expression. You don’t know what to do with it, with your own compulsion to see more of it from him. 

“It is,” you reply. And then, with more annoyance than is wise in dealings with g-ds, “And I told you my name.”

Amusement, maybe, or just an unrelated curl of his lips. 

“My people tell me that you know mine as well,” he smiles, sly, baring only a hint of teeth that glint at you like a pearl. “At least, their name for me.” “K’ulk’ulkan,” you nod, looking out at the water. “The feathered serpent g-d.” 

You can still picture a sea of white note cards in front of you, your veins vibrating with Red Bull and your eyes swimming with apostrophes as you studied for your Mesoamerican Mythology and Folklore final. Who knew it’d ever actually come in handy.

“Historians think that K’ulk’ulkan is connected to other g-ds from the same region. Are you also Quezacoatl? And Q’uq’umatz?”

Namor’s chuckle echoes on the walls of the room. 

“I am not a g-d,” he tells you. “I am just a king, a man,” he cuts a dashing smile at you, “who wants to protect his people.”

He casts his gaze back out to the water. 

“The people of your world, they destroy freshwaters like this. They destroy the waters and the land.” The warmth and ease abandon his tone. It sends a chill down your spine. “They would destroy Talokan if they found it.”

Your arms prick with nerves, but you nod. You have no way to defend humanity against that particular charge.

“So you see why I can not allow the vibranium-seeking ships to be built again,” he says.

You nod again, unease growing in your chest.

“So you see why your friend can not be allowed to live.”

Your stomach drops. For a moment, you’d allowed him to distract you with the beautiful cave, with a glimpse of home. You look at the sunlight on the jewel-toned water. You realize then, how inadequate your glimpse is. You are a prisoner staring through a barred window. And you had nearly thanked your captor for the light. 

“No,” you say, fire building in your chest. “I don’t see why Riri has to die in order to protect Talokan.”

You turn to Namor and find that his eyes are on you already, his body turned towards yours, chin raised so he is looking down on you. You lift your chin as well, look at him straight in the eye. Your chests are inches from each other.

“Riri Williams is a nineteen year old engineering genius. She made a project for school that her professor then took and sold to the U.S. government without her consent. She had no idea that the technology would ever be used, let alone that it could endanger people she had no way of knowing existed.

Namor studies your face. “You seem to think that this is personal. I assure you that it is not. I would come for the head of the individual responsible for her technology. Regardless of age and personal achievement.”

Your blood boils at his lack of compassion. Namor’s nostrils flare, pushing the jade piercing in his nose out and in. His eyes narrow at you. You remember all at once that you are a puny human arguing with an ancient creature. G-ds do not move for mortals. All your arguments, your protests at the injustice of it all, your assertions that Riri could prove a useful ally to Talokan, die on your tongue. An idea, one that makes a tremor run through you, takes their place.

“What if you let them go and kept me?”

Namor’s eyes do something sharp. His lips shift into the barest hint of a smile, and you're struck with the gut wrenching impression that he expected you to say that. That he’d set this up to pull those words from you. One of his dark eyebrows shifts up his face, bemusement overtaking his expression.

“What can you offer me that a princess and a genius can not?”

He says it like there’s a correct answer, and he’s hoping you’re clever enough to find it. You think back to that moment you’d stood up for Riri back in the cell, when you captured the attention of the g-d. You look out at the beams of sunlight, the jewel-toned water. You pray to any other g-d to give you strength.

“Shuri is compassionate. She volunteered herself as a hostage so your people wouldn’t kill Riri. She will not provoke Talokan while you have an innocent captive.”

You pause, but Namor’s face hasn’t moved. You haven’t hit the right answer yet. 

“If you want Wakanda as an ally, you will need to show her that you can be trusted. If you release the princess as a sign of goodwill, they won’t feel the need to bring the fight to you first.”

Something like fire sparks in Namor’s eyes. You keep talking.

“And you can’t keep Riri, because you’ve announced an intent to kill her. There’s no reason to believe you’d keep her alive. I mean, you’ve kept her alive so far, but that’s because-”

You gasp, a revelation striking you like lightning. It’s terrible, and it’s genius, and when Namor splits his lips and smiles with shark teeth, you know it’s true.

“You were never going to kill Riri,” you breathe, voice barely above a whisper. “It was all a ploy to get Shuri here, alone.”

Something dangerous glints in the murky depths of Namor’s brown eyes. Your veins thrum with the urge to run. But you can’t escape his gaze. A monstrous sense of pride warms your chest at having discovered his game, one that increases tenfold when you see it reflected in his gaze. 

“Ma'alob ch'úupalo',” he says with the same terrible smile. His voice is low, his gaze ensnares you. “Very well, máak lu'um. I will set the others free, and you will stay here as our guest.”

He turns on his heel, walking with the same serpentine grace over to the dark tunnel you’d come through earlier. You watch his back as he moves away, his copper skin glinting in the sunlight, the sunlight, and then turning darker in the shadow of the tunnel. He turns back to you.

“Come,” his tone drips with victory. “We must tell your comrades of their liberation.” 

You remember, now, that the Maya used to give human sacrifices to the g-ds. High ranking prisoners of war offered because the g-ds were sustained by their blood. Namor told you that he is not a g-d. And yet, as you swallow a scream and let him lead you back down the dark tunnel, you can’t help but wonder what, if not your blood, he means to take from you.

Ma'alob ch'úupalo' - good girl

máak lu'um - surface dweller (literally, land person)

a piece of your history.

Pairing: Namor x Filipino!Reader

Rating: Mature, Comedy (No smut but there is tension)

Summary: It hurts to not be able to properly recreate your traditional pre-colonial Filipino clothing, and Namor takes notice of this feeling of yours.

Word Count: 2,578

Content Warning: Mentions of colonialization

Disclaimer: Namor is kind of cold and dark towards reader!! Idk if its ooc but i would imagine that he would generally be apprehensive towards a surface dweller. you have been warned

___________

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

a piece of your history. / "beloved."

__________

“Do you like it?”

You asked, grinning, slightly turning yourself around in order to fully show off your work proudly.

Namor hummed, sitting in the water by the shore of the beach. He was always like this, meeting up with you now and again. 

“Is this the wear of your people?” He asked. You grinned and nodded, letting out small chuckles while fiddling with the fabric between your fingers. You had always wanted to make the Pre-Colonial traditional clothing of your Filipino ancestors, it was the closest thing you had of home as of now. 

The process was tedious, you admit that. So little resources or references online on how your specific region’s clothing looked– much less how it was made, due to how much the Spaniards burned and banned, but you had still managed to gather enough to make one as accurately as possible.

“It’s… beautiful.” He simply says, eyeing up the clothes and how it wrapped around your body, causing you to tear your eyes away from him in fear of showing how his compliment affected you in such a way. 

“Why have your people stopped wearing this? Are they not your traditional wear?” Namor asked, remembering the photos of your family that you had shown him. They were wearing what you had called a “baro’t saya” and “barong” for the celebration of “Buwan ng Wika” as he recalled it.

“It’s gorgeous, and made by the hands of your people instead of the colonizers.” He continued, “It escapes me on why your people have abandoned wearing your traditional garbs, instead choosing to wear what they gave you.” This statement slightly irked you, causing you to deadpan at him.

“Dude, we were enslaved and tortured by them for more than 300 years.” You crossed your arms. “Do you think we abandoned it willingly?” You were met with silence, and for once, Namor was the one who was left speechless by bluntness.

“... Right. My apologies.” Was all Namor could reply, causing you to let out a small laugh, shaking your head. It’s not often you’re the one leaving him silent, with him often bashing “surface dwellers”, causing you to regularly remind him that you yourself are a surface dweller. 

Namor never had a proper reply for that.

However, even if you were happy with your work, you still frowned and sighed. You dragged your fingers along the cloth, wistfully looking at its patterns. Namor’s eyes followed the way your face curled up to a grimace, causing him to frown even more (if that was even possible) in confusion. 

“It’s not much, though. The fabric’s sorta cheap ‘cause it was the only one I could find that had this specific pattern. I had to pick between comfortability or accuracy.” You sulked, sitting down on the dry sand close to him. You hugged your knees close to your chest, already itchy from the scratchy inside of the fabric.

“I chose accuracy, of course… for them.” You vaguely finished, slightly bitter on how hard it was to make your country’s real traditional clothing in an authentic way. You palmed the sand, looking for your bag before taking out your trusty cellphone. 

Ah, surface dwellers and their hand-held yet fragile technologies… Namor thought as you typed and scrolled away at your phone. 

“I mean, look at this!” You held your phone out, showing what appeared to be a real life replica of your garbs, just made in a better way. Namor narrowed his eyes in confusion. 

“So your people still make this?” 

“Well technically yes, but no? God, I wish, though. This is just a historical costume for entertainment…” You replied, huffing. 

“Tangina talaga ng Espanya…” You grumbled under your breath. Namor chuckled at you, as he had heard you swear in your mother tongue (he was sure it was a swear– it was literally the first word you had taught him) at one of your country’s past colonizers.

“Jay, ba'ax jaaj le je'elo'...” He replied, agreeing, though this did cause your face to slightly feel warmer. You would never admit it to his face, but him speaking his native language was kinda hot.

You let out a small chuckle, before wistfully sighing and looking at the sky. 

“You know… I’m kinda jealous of you and your people of Talokan.” Namor rose an eyebrow at you, his head turning to look at you. You put your hands up in mock defense, clearly meaning well.

“I don’t mean it in a bad way! And yeah, you guys have faced struggles with water pollution, junk and also colonizer stuff… It’s just… y’know…” You trailed off, suddenly feeling bashful. Namor’s gaze softened, as he nodded to indicate that you continue. You breathed in deeply.

“Well, I mean, you guys got to keep your culture intact, no outside forces ripping it away from you.” You mumbled, picking at the sand that got between your nails.

“No forgotten gods… no forgotten stories… no forgotten practices.” You longingly looked at the sea.

You snorted, though. “Even if they tried, you could still put up a fight and protect it.” You smiled at him, causing him to avert his gaze and look back at the ocean.

“I just… I just wish I could salvage at least a small part of it.” You finished, already feeling your throat close up and tears form in your eyes. God, why did you have to be so emotional? Putangina naman… 

For a beat or two, Namor stayed quiet. You already felt dread setting in your stomach, oh god. What if he had another diva moment and dove back in the water? Before you could panic even more, you heard the water move, as water droplets seem to fall from sky and onto you. You looked up in confusion, squinting your eyes at Namor, who had stood up from his place to sit closer to you.

“... May I see more of these garbs?” 

Your frown was replaced with a smile, as you swallowed back the lump and blinked away the oncoming tears. “Sure! I have so many saved and printed– it’s important to have references before crafting, after all!” 

Your signature grin was back as you happily took out what looked to be a plastic bag containing pictures that looked similar to your clothes. You happily explained away, showing him more and more photos– though he did notice that you had backed up a bit when he came a bit too close to your personal space. 

He followed along as you showed more and more photos– along with more pictures of Pre-Colonial jewelry that you wanted to replicate yourself. He noticed the way you would stop and longingly gaze at them, before continuing on with explaining.

Namor watched the way your eyes would brighten as you talked more and more about your history, before they would dim as you brought up on why it was not used by your people in the modern day anymore. 

“... And yeah, that’s pretty much what my own region wears! Though, it does get a bit tricky to see if it really is my region per say,” Namor looked at you, a bit confused but waiting for you to continue. Your smile grew wider. 

“All regions basically have a lot of similarities and differences! So sometimes it gets a bit confusing.” You rambled, before noticing yourself and getting a bit embarrassed. Namor softly smiled at you. 

“This just shows how rich the cultures of your people are, in etail.” 

You blinked before letting out a joyous laugh, surprised that Namor of all people complimented you! (Well, to be more precise, your heritage). You were about to reply before your eyes caught sight of the time on your phone. “Ay gago! Ang late na pala! I still have to call my parents!” You put on your coat over your work, before shoving your phone back in your bag. 

Before you could properly stand up, a hand on your wrist stopped you. Your brain loaded for a few seconds, your eyes following the hand and how it trailed back to Namor. “Come back here in two days time.” He asked (more of demanded).

You gawked at him, this was the first time he ever confirmed that you were going to see him! Most of the time, he simply came and went as he pleased. The look in his eyes already made it impossible to say no, so of course refusing him was not an option. 

“I-I…” You stammered, meeting his eyes that had so much emotion in them. You gulped. “Okay! See you in… two days, dude!” You quickly went on your way home.

Namor nodded at you, before he caught sight of the familiar plastic ziplock you had left behind. Before he could call out to you, you were already too far away, and if he were to approach you someone would surely see him.  

Namor watched your back fade from the distance, already confirming the idea forming in his head. He nodded to himself, before grabbing the ziplock bag and diving back into the sea, making sure to not let anything get wet. 

__________

You practically ran towards the beach as you grinned, excited that your.. Friend(?) or Frenemy(?) personally requested your presence. You cleared your throat and attempted to act cool, though severely failing, before sitting down by the drier parts of the sand, admiring how beautiful the waves looked. 

A few moments later, a familiar head peeped out from the water, causing you to laugh and wave at him. Namor uncharacteristically bore a grin at you, continuing to get out of water, the droplets from his hair magically disappearing with each step.

“I have a surprise for you.” was the first thing he said as he offered you a hand in getting up. You nodded, though a bit confused now. 

In his hands, you had finally taken notice of a makeshift waterproof bag tied by a drawstring along with a familiar plastic ziplock of papers. “Ay, onga pala! I accidentally left my papers…” You exclaimed, surprised that he kept them in such good condition.

Namor gingerly handed you the drawstring bag first, urging you to open it. “Please, have a look inside.” You hesitantly took it in your hands, noting the way the fabric practically had gold woven into it.

What you saw took your breath away, 

it was Pre-Colonial indigenous Filipino clothes.

You ran a hand through them, the fabric being silky yet cool to the touch. Just as how Filipino clothes were theorized to be. Somehow, Namor had found a way to wove it with gold, just as what your research had said. You felt tears well up in the corner of your eyes, it felt like a piece of history was being given back to you. 

 “Well? What are you waiting for?” Namor’s voice snapped you out of your stupor. You looked back at him, open-mouthed and too shocked to reply. He chuckled at you. “Try it on, in etail.”

Namor politely turned around, silently trying to hide and bury the way he felt when he heard fabric shifting and the likely assumption of you undressing. 

Your breath hitched as the feeling of the fabric against your skin was a comfortable one. It was perfectly tailored and made for you, as if someone had memorized every inch of your body down to the smallest details, the robes fitting like a glove on your body. 

“You can look now…” You managed to practically croak out, forever feeling thankful at such a kind gesture from no one other than Namor himself. 

The moment Namor turned around, he swore that he felt slightly lightheaded from how you managed to take his breath away with just your look. You looked like you were in your natural element, your most natural state.

It almost felt as if this was how you were supposed to be. 

The way the gold-woven fabric hung off your own copper skin had him thinking of thoughts he swore he would never have of surface-dwellers, and perhaps the most euphoric feeling was seeing the look on your face; the genuine joy and happiness. 

But wait, something was missing. 

He narrowed his eyes at you before rummaging through the bag he carried with him. Namor gently brought out familiar looking jewelry, though with its own twist.

“These… are also for you.”

Namor took your hand and placed it in his, slipping on a rather detailed and delicately made golden ring. He took both of your wrists and placed on them gold bracelets adorned with what appeared to be a jade material.

All the while, he made direct eye contact with you. You practically shook under his gaze, deeming it to be too intimate. 

Before you could process anything more, you felt the heat of Namor’s body behind your back, as you heard gold clinking together. His hot breath fanned on the back of your neck, as the heat in your ears never seemed to go away. 

You felt a heavy weighted necklace be placed onto your collarbone, before a click behind you was resounded. Namor’s hands lingered for a split second on the nape of your neck, before he practically ripped himself away and stood back, afraid of his own actions.

Your breath left your body for what felt like the nth time in the past 30 minutes, as you took the necklace between your fingers and observed the intricate designs of gold and jade beautifully fused together. 

All of this jewelry should have felt heavy, but to you they felt as if they were perfectly crafted and made for you and your people. It was as if these were all made with heavy and careful detail, making sure that they perfectly aligned with your own practices but still with its own twist and charm from the gifter.

You could never take back what the Spaniards have taken from your country, but it felt like a lost piece of your own heritage was being directly gifted to you, you could practically feel the pride of your ancestors. This was all so overwhelming. 

“K'uk'ulkan…” 

Namor suppressed the heat he felt as his natural name rolled off your tongue in such a breathless manner. 

Now, it was your turn to surprise as he did not anticipate that you would tackle him in a hug. You buried your face in his neck, not scared anymore of what he’d do. Namor’s own hands hesitantly placed themselves on your backside, before they tightened around you.

“Salamat… Salamat talaga, K'uk'ulkan…” Namor felt hot wet tears drip onto his shoulder. 

He hugged back even tighter.

“Mixba’al, in etail.” 

__________

BONUS:

“Okay, now ‘putangina mo’ means I like you.” You said to Namor, though the way you tried to (and failed) to hold back your laughter made him doubt that that was the meaning of the phrase.

“Is it really now?” You laughed, nodding profusely. “Hell yeah it is! We Pinoys use it all the time to compliment each other! Like, ‘putangina mo tol, ang guwapo mo nakakabakla ka na!’ ”

“ ‘Nakakabakla’?” Namor narrowed his eyes at you. Were you just messing with him? You laughed even more, clutching your sides by how much it hurt.

“Gaga, uto-uto ka talaga.”

Namor had a deep feeling in his stomach that you were insulting him (he was right) so he stood up and sighed, walking back towards the sea.

“What the-! Hey! Where are you going?!”

“K'a' ak'ate.”

“Aw c’mon K'uk'ulkan! Can’t you take a joke?!”

He was already gone by the time you had said that.

There is something so beautiful about reaching out to the monstrous with intent to touch it gently. To risk the sharp teeth and the lethal claws, to defy fear and revulsion, and choose to be delicate with something that can be, and often is, incredibly brutal.