#con la brisa | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

acciopietro · 1 year

Text

doctor pt. 3

pairing: namor x fem! reader

summary: you take an opportunity despite the repercussions. namor’s determination to protect his people blinds him.

part one part two part four

word count: 6,939

tw: lots and lots of death. forced suicide (because of the talokanil sirens). the typically stuff. lots of angsty and sadness

a/n: i was listening to happiness is a butterfly while writing so this took a turn for sure... it took a hot minute but i hope you enjoy nonetheless!! i’m nervous ab this so pls let me know your honest opinions...it kind of took a turn

part one part two

IT REALLY ONLY TOOK ONE email to make your heart drop. It was a phone call and a series of texts, too, but it was the email that did it for you. Arial, Size 12 font, formal greeting, body paragraph, half-hearted thank you, polite goodbye. Signed Doctor Reynolds, Ph.D., with the name of your team and company. Message subject: Wakanda.

You read it with vigilant eyes, still hands resting on the metal of your laptop, blue light from the screen casting a cool glow onto your tired skin. The music in your earbuds continued to play, but the sound of The Weeknd wasn’t helping calm the way your heart’s steady beat began to pick up. The words on the email flashed out at you as if they were bolded: Wakanda, harvesting, vibranium, testing, trip. Trip?

“Hi, Doctor Reynolds,” you spoke casually into your telephone, despite your palms sweating around the handle of it. Twisting the coiled cord of it with your index finger, you said, “Yeah, I just got the email. I just had some questions...”

Long story short, a team of marine scientists had ventured into the pacific, delving into the deep seas in search of the vibranium you had found a little over a year ago. You had abandoned that research per Namor’s (tacit) request (more like demand), however, you had known that it was bound to be looked at at some point. The issue was that ships were now apparently being hijacked, their tracking machines being destroyed under water as well as large groups of scientists somehow falling off ship and into the waters to their tragic death. No one knew why.

Reynolds believed Wakanda had something to do with it. He believed that since they were well known for being the sole producers and protectors of all the Earth’s vibranium, he was under the impression that they were trying to stop the United States scientists from harvesting it. Which, you had thought to yourself, would be plausible considering the United States was notorious for taking things that weren’t necessarily theirs.

“Why are we getting involved?” you asked Reynold, gripping your scalp anxiously as you listened to Reynolds explain the situation. “It’s not like if we take a boat out there, we, somehow, will miraculously end up okay. If boats are being hijacked, then... oh, I don’t know...”

Reynold went on and on.

“Wait... you mean to tell me that you already booked it?” you shrilled. “Please excuse me if I’m stepping out of line here, but it’s very likely that our boat will just get hijacked, too. And besides, why do we care so much about vibranium, again? It doesn’t harm any marine life or ecosystems...”

Reynolds spewed a bunch of nonsensical answers, beating around the bush and never quite landing on the reason you know was true: getting money and getting power. Often the root of many of Reynolds’s aspirations.

“You’re more than welcome to deny the job,” Reynold says. “But I’ve decided that I want you on that boat. You’re a useful member of this team. Whether you like it or not, this could be very big.”

You clenched your jaw. “I’ll think about it.”

“You’ve got a week.”

You had only been home from Yucatán for one month. You had a wonderful four months of being with your sister and her family in the days and sneaking off with your man from the sea at night. You couldn’t have gotten closer to Namor; well, unless he took off his shorts and... well, you wouldn’t let him do it, anyways. He had asked. A few times. More than a few times. But for some reason, you just couldn’t do it. For starters, you weren’t on the pill and you were sure there wasn’t contraception under the sea (you asked if he had a condom one time, and he asked you what language that word was in. For someone who is immortal, he sure didn’t know a lot).

You felt like sleeping with him for real for real would make things realer. It made him more of a commitment, gave him more power. And you told yourself you wouldn’t let it happen unless you were absolutely sure that he deserved it. It was really hard to say no sometimes, though. He sure knew how to persuade you.

Accepting the job and getting on the damn boat would for sure cause an issue if Namor found out. You didn’t want to search for vibranium, especially knowing the damage it would do to Wakanda if the United States got access to such a resource, and to Talokan if the States got knowledge of their existence. But... Reynolds personally invited you, and it could do wonders for your career if it went well.

“I don’t see why not,” your sister said when you told her of your predicament the next day. “I mean, I understand the hesitation, especially if boats are being hijacked. But who knows, maybe they’ll get an Avenger and put them on board with you to keep you safe. Hopefully it’s Captain America.”

“As much as I’d love to have Sam Wilson on a boat with me for two weeks, I’m still not sure,” you groaned, plopping down onto your couch and opening up your laptop, the blue light hitting your face as you held your phone against your ear with your shoulder. Scrolling through the news, you said, “It just feels like a thing just for money. And, like, yeah, it is, but I... wait a second...”

You stopped scrolling, eyes casting across the headline of the latest CNN article, your lips falling apart. Wakanda’s King T’Challah dead at 41.

“Oh my gosh,” you breathed. Your sister asked you what it was on the other side of the phone, and you hastily forwarded the article to hear. She cursed, and both of you fell silent as you read. “Jesus Christ. I can’t go on that boat.”

---

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU won’t get on the boat?” asked Reynolds the followed week when you went into office. You shook your head, clenching your jaw.

“King T’Challah just died,” you told him matter-of-factly. “And if there really is more vibranium out there, and the States gets access to it, that’ll do a lot of damage to Wakanda.”

“We are not giving the States access to it,” Reynolds furrowed his brow, the hair of his grey mustache fluttering as he spoke. “We’re just figuring out how much of its in the water. It’s not our job to start harvesting it, that’s up to Archeology.”

“It doesn’t matter who does what,” you said feverishly. “We’re still helping do something that will eventually lead to bad things for Wakanda. And I don’t feel comfortable doing that, especially after their king just passed away.”

Reynolds narrowed his eyes at you, and said nothing before circling around to his desk and clicking the mouse of his computer. You blinked, watching him search around for something with a stern face. You waited a minute for him to speak, and when he didn’t, you cleared your throat.

“Sir..?”

“Look, L/N,” Reynolds looked at you from over his bifocals. “I understand where you stand on these more... well, political aspects of the job. But this is a big opportunity I’m offering you. If you decline, fine, but I’ll know that you’re not up to the task. I’ll give the job to Quade.”

You clenched your jaw, feeling something bubble in your stomach. Ugh, you thought. Quade. He was the worst. You knew it was wrong to take this job. Morally, it was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

“Okay,” you sighed defeatedly. “I’ll... I’ll do it.”

“Good,” Reynolds gave you a nod and stopped typing. He pressed the delete button and held it down. “I can get rid of this email to Quade then. We leave Friday. Back your bags and tell your family you love ‘em.”

---

UNDER THE THRASHING WAVES OF the Gulf of Mexico sat a king on his throne, his forearms resting on his strong, tensed thighs as he read a piece of torn paper. He had to put the paper under pieces of surface-dweller plastic so the pages didn’t fall apart under the water, but even still, the ink had smeared a bit. Nonetheless, Namor sat, his jaw clenched, and he read.

Namor, the letter read.

Hopefully this letter got to you all right-- my niece isn’t always too reliable. I’m writing to you in an attempt to explain myself so you don’t find out from other sources. Some people from my team will be sailing out into the Gulf with another team that’s mining for vibranium. I wanted to deny the job, but I need to take whatever opportunities they throw my way if I want to keep my head above water. I’m going to do my best to protect you and your people, but there’s only so much I can do. I’m sorry. Really, I am. If there’s anything I can do that you can think of (without totally tarnishing my reputation and/or getting fired), find a way to let me know, and I’ll do it. Again, I’m really sorry. I hope you can forgive me. Hopefully I’ll see you soon.

Sincerely Apologetically Love

From, Y/N

Namor gripped the paper tight between his calloused, jewelry covered hands. Lifting his head, he glanced up at his people, the civilization they had built together, the vibranium everyone wore. He glanced at the chest plate he wore, the cuffs around his arms, at the vibranium he wore. It was everything.

He clenched his jaw, bowing his head and pinching the bridge of his nose. He laid the paper down on his lap, squeezing his eyes shut to think.

“Namora!” he called out hastily, and after a little over a minute, the woman emerged into the space and walked up to him, standing before his throne. She knelt, opening up her palms to him in a greeting before standing up. “K'abéet in actualizaciones yóok'ol le láak' rastreador. Yaan in biin ta wéetel (I need updates on the next tracker. I’ll be going with you).”

---

THE DRIVE TO THE PORT was peaceful, palm trees swaying in the breeze and reminding you that, although it wasn’t Mexico, you were appreciative for the beauty and pleasantries of the place you lived in. Florida, with all of its ups and downs-- and you meant all of them-- was nice. The giant boat was astonishing once your Uber pulled up. People were hustling and bustling about the port, and you simply stared up at the giant ship, clutching the strap of your bag and admiring its beauty.

“Ah, Doctor L/N, good to see you. All packed?” asked Doctor Mishra, one of the men of the group who you actually liked to be around. You were thankful he was on the trip. “Boat’s giant, no?”

“Oh, yeah,” you whistled. “Y’know, I’ve never been on a boat like this.”

“I’ve been on a couple of cruises,” Doctor Mishra told you. “Wonderful vacations. However, we will not be waited on on this boat.”

“Fine with me,” you shrugged. “Do we just... go inside, or what?”

“Not sure,” he said. Smiling, he heaved his duffel bag over his shoulder and said, “Let’s find out!

Everything went smoothly for the first week and three days. All the men had to share rooms with at least one other person, and you were lucky enough that everyone agreed that you should have the single room. Your research seemed to be going fairly, however, you never caught a glimpse of the research of the others aside from Doctor Mishra, who you were doing a lot of your work with these days.

One evening, after a nice warm shower, you ventured out onto the deck of the ship, letting the ocean breeze cool your warm cheeks. You caught a glimpse, however, of Dr. Reynolds and Bernstein exchanging words on the deck, standing quite close and speaking under their breaths. You crept closer around the corner, trying to eavesdrop.

“We found it around thirty-five miles from the west tip of Cuba, so we’re thinking if we move closer towards Cancún and Yucatán and all that, we’ll find more,” Bernstein said quietly but firmly. Reynolds nodded his head in understanding.

“But what of the machines?” he asked. “The last one was destroyed, you said, signal lost?”

“Something’s hungry down there,” Bernstein shrugged. “Or however far down the vibranium is, it’s too deep for our computers. We need higher tech to harvest it.”

Your stomach turned. The team wasn’t supposed to be thinking about harvesting vibranium. Reynolds had told you that was up to Archaeology. You gulped and kept listening, fighting the urge to jump out and ask a million questions.

"I’m in contact with some people up north who’ve got new stuff that could work,” Reynolds scratched his white beard pensively. “They’ve had limited success too, but it could be helpful.”

“Us getting this vibranium could change the game,” Bernstein said emphatically. “I mean, can you imagine if the government realized we had this stuff? They’d pay us a lot of money to take it off our hands.”

“This is more than just money, Bernstein,” Reynolds said lowly. “If Wakanda found out that the States got hold of the one thing they’ve got on us? We’re back on top.”

“Holy shit,” Bernstein ran a hand through his oily blonde hair and grinned. “I went into the right profession, that’s for damn sure!”

“Yes, well, let’s just see what the other men have gathered in the past week and compare,” Reynolds told him. “Maybe there’s something right under our noses that we haven’t noticed.”

You clenched your jaw and stepped out from behind the corner. You squeezed a fist in one hand to prevent yourself from lashing out, and it wasn’t until you cleared your throat that the two men noticed you.

“Oh, L/N!” Reynolds gave a gasp of surprise and then a chuckle. “Wasn’t expecting you to be out so late. Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

“I don’t have a bedtime, sir, I’m a grown woman,” you said firmly. “But you’ve got about twenty years on me, so I’m confused as to why you’re not in bed either.”

Bernstein and Reynolds shared a glance.

“I’m also confused about all this I’m hearing about harvesting vibranium,” you said, not saying anything for a heartbeat to give them room to defend themselves. “I didn’t think that was what we were doing here. I also thought that as a team we were supposed to be, I don’t know, working together?”

“Look, L/N, you’ve got your own research, and so do we. We chose not to include you because you, for some reason, seemed very against delving deeper into this vibranium business,” Reynolds explained in a slow and calm voice as if he were speaking to a child. “This could be very lucrative for us and helpful for American forces.”

“You’re hiding shit from everyone,” you spat.

“No, I’m not,” Reynolds sneered. “Just from you.”

As if someone had pressed a button, all of a sudden Reynolds and Bernstein stood upright, their faces blank, eyes fogged over. You furrowed your brow and snapped in front of the former's face. A song began to echo the ship, as if someone was playing it on the loudspeakers, and you glanced around as if to see if someone else noticed it.

You glanced up to the top deck, where a man stood next to a large scope. He was walking very uniformly, his face blank as well, and you watched as he continued to walk and walk and walk until--

You screamed bloody murder. The man walked until he reached the railing, where he hopped over it and simply threw himself off the ledge and into the depths of the ocean below. Breathing heavily, you whipped yourself around and watched as Reynolds, mesmerized by the song, began to walk towards the railing, Bernstein at his heels.

“No!” you cried, grabbing ahold of Reynolds’s arm to hold him back; he thrashed himself out of your grasp and climbed over the railing. You grappled at the back of his shirt, trying to tug him back, but he too, like a rag doll, plummeted into the crashing waves below. Bernstein was looming closer to the railing, and you wrapped your arms around his torso to hold him back.

You kept seeing men out of the corner of your eyes walk over the edge and throw themselves into the sea. You hadn’t realized it, but tears were pricking out of the corners of your eyes as you mustered up all your strength to try and hold Bernstein back from the edge.

“Snap-- out-- of-- it!” you cried, and brought one of your hands to slap him clean across the face. To no avail. Balling up a fist, you let go of him and stood between him and the railing; you wound up your arm and socked him clean across the face, to which he toppled onto his back. Blood was now seeping from his nose, but at least he wasn’t walking to his death.

You squinted out into the sea, to try and figure out the source of the sound, but all you saw was the water and the midnight blue horizon. A groan from behind you alerted your attention; you dropped to your knees, shaking Bernstein awake.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you cried. He wiped his nose, the blood staining the sleeve of his white shirt.

“You fuckin’ punched me!” Bernstein muffled, sitting upright and punching you straight across the face, hard enough for you to topple back onto the deck. He got to his feet, and as if nothing had happened, his face became blank again. You groaned, sitting upright and clutching your bleeding nose as he walked towards the railing again.

“No, no-- stop!” you called out, getting to your feet, but it was too late; Bernstein climbed over the railing and fell face first into the ocean. You saw the tail of a dolphin in the distance as his body disappeared, and you squeezed your eyes shut, covering your face with your hands, blood from your nose seeping through your fingers. “Jesus christ, what the fuck? What the actual fuck? What the fuck is happening?”

SPLASH! You drew your hands away from your face, and to your horror, saw the fins of sharks circling around the boat, the occasional tale of a dolphin, or the splashes of other marine life you couldn’t identify from so far away. The beating of your heart was so fast that at this rate you were sure you could die of a heart attack. Unable to take your eyes away from the sea of troubles below you, you were terrified to see the body of a whale rise close enough to the surface for you to see, and what shocked you the most was the outline of a person riding on its back. Your jaw dropped.

Without a second thought, you sprinted towards the hatch that led to the inside of the ship. You ran at top speed across the creaky wooden floor until you reached your room, grabbing your bag that held your journal, your phone, your laptop, and your camera. A knock at your door made you jump and almost yelp.

“It’s just me,” it was Doctor Mishra, his hair disheveled and his eyes wild. He had on a large pair of earmuffs. “Are you okay? Your nose is bleeding!”

“No!” you practically screeched. “I just fucking watched the entire crew kill themselves!”

“Everyone?”

“Well, I don’t know about everyone,” you stammered, shoving anything and everything important to you into your bag. You grabbed the printed map of the gulf, with annotations and drawings and other kinds of markings, and rolled it quickly before shoving it into your bag. Picking up your taser, you blinked at it before shoving it into your bag, too. “Bernstein and Reynolds are gone, same with the rest of the crew on the deck, and the man from the mast, and the--”

“Slow down,” Mishra said to you, squatting down next to you and handing you his handkerchief for your nose. “There’s almost no signal, and the only ways we can send out an S.O.S. are either from the red flare device on the mast, or by the radio in the control room.”

“Okay,” you breathed, putting the straps of your bag over your shoulders and tightening it so it wouldn’t fall off, wiping your nose despite it continuing to bleed. “But... what if we get all weird too and try and walk off?”

“Here,” Mishra fumbled with something in his pocket: wired earbuds. “Plug them into your phone and blast some music. Should do the trick. My earmuffs worked pretty well.”

You grabbed the earbuds from him, untangling them before plugging them into your ears. Grabbing your phone, you shuffled a playlist and turned up the volume. Mishra beckoned you to follow him out the door, to which you complied, Tyler, the Creator’s “ARE WE STILL FRIENDS?” blaring from the earbuds. Not the time, you thought, but you couldn’t afford to stand there a pick a good song for the occasion.

“I’ll head up to the mast,” you offered. “The control room is safer for you since it’s pretty contained.”

“Are you sure?” he asked. “The mast is insanely high, you could get hurt.”

You clenched your jaw. “It’s fine. I’ll send out the flares. Good luck, okay?”

“Take care of yourself,” Mishra told you firmly. “Meet back on the deck in ten minutes or so.”

You nodded and turned, sprinting back up onto the deck and opening the hatch. There were people on the deck, with beautiful feathered headdresses and jaded armor. You stared at them for a moment, but before they could see you, you ran behind one of the poles, trying to focus on getting up to the mast. The ladder was on the other side of the deck, leading you to inch your way around the center portion until you could find the ladder with your eyes.

There were tons of the soldiers across the deck, running around, whispering to one another. They all held massive, sharp spears, the jade and gold glinting under the pale moonlight. It reminded you of Namor, you thought, until you realized it was possible they were his people. As much as you trusted him, you didn’t trust the spears; you weren’t about to risk your life, and even Doctor Mishra’s life, just to reunite with the man from the sea.

You bolted towards the ladder, grabbing the bars and climbing up it with no hesitation. Someone from below shouted something. You didn’t look down, moving at a speed you were sure you had never moved at before, until you reached the top level where the light machine and the red flare device were located. You practically threw yourself onto the bright red button, pressing it over and over again so tens of red flares shot up into the night sky.

Your earbuds were playing Childish Gambino, now, and despite it being one of your favorite songs of all time, you couldn’t find it in you to enjoy it. You kept pressing the button, red flare after red flare firing into the sky. People were shouting from below you, in a language you couldn’t decipher, especially with “Me and Your Mama” blasting into your ears.

You took a brief moment to glance at the deck, peering over the railing. Someone was climbing up the mast, the gold of their armor glinting under the light of the mast. You panicked, unzipped your bag and grabbed your taser. You ran to the other side of the table-like desk in the center of the platform and crouched behind it.

Feet adorned in golden-plated sandals planted onto the platform. You swallowed your breath, holding out your taser for when they rounded the desk. You cursed your earbuds; you were sure they could hear the Childish Gambino blasting from them. When they rounded the corner, you shot up and stuck out the taster onto their stomach, to which they convulsed and stumbled backwards. You pressed the red button a handful more times, but before you could act again, you felt a hand grab you by the neck and heard the cling of a blade being unsheathed.

“Suelta a arma (Drop your weapon),” the person holding you said firmly, to which you shakily dropped your taster. It clattered onto the wooden platform. The soldier let you go, your back towards the ladder, and with the shear pointed right at you, commanded, “Péeksik (Move).”

You couldn’t understand them, but you had enough context clues to understand what the soldier wanted. You caught a long enough glimpse at them to see a strange mask over their mouth and nose, water splashing around inside of it. You wanted to look for longer, but they nudged you with the butt of their spear, so without protest, you climbed down the ladder.

By the time you reached the floor of the deck, you barely had a moment of freedom before the soldier grabbed you again, holding you by the shoulders with their spear at your neck. They spoke to another soldier, the blade of the spear dangerously close to your skin.

One of the soldiers wore a tall, orange-feathered headdress, with the same feathers donned around the necklace she wore that looked like it was made out of something woven. The soldier holding you shoved you forward, hard enough that you stumbled over your feet and almost fell flat on your face. As soon as you were released, the other soldiers circled you, spears pointed.

“Vacíe u póoj (Empty your bag),” she commanded. You blinked, not understand. At your silence, one of the soldiers poked your bag with their spear, nudging it off. You reluctantly shook it off of your shoulders, letting it fall onto the deck. “Je'e le! (Open it!)”

Another soldier poked it with your spear before another nudged you forwards. Lowering to your knees, you grabbed the back and opened the zipper pocket so the contents of your bag was visible. One of the soldiers snatched it from you, turning it upside down and shaking it so everything fell out; your map tumbled to the ground, along with your computer, camera, and journal. Cringing at the sound of your computer and camera dropping onto the deck, you made a move to stand, but the feeling of a spear pressed against the back of your neck kept you down.

The woman in the headdress, who you assumed was in charge, bent down and picked up the map, unrolling it. She ran her finger where you had outlined the hypoxic zone in red pen, the notes near the southern border of the United States, as well as the circle around your sister’s town in Yucatán.

“Talokan ma' u dibujado (Talokan is not drawn),” she said. In broken English, she read the notes and pronounced. “Hi-gh con-cen-tra-ti-on.”

You gulped, watching them interact with one another. The one behind you holding the spear to your neck said, “Ba'ax le kíins wa ma'? (Do we kill her, or not?)”

“Le ajawo' tu ya'alaj ma' u testigos (The king said no witnesses),” another soldier proclaimed. “Kíisa (Kill her).”

“Pa'atik! (Wait!)” one exclaimed, leaning down and grabbing your wrist. “Ilawil u x-oron (Look at her wrist).”

“Lelo' u Talokan (That is from Talokan),” another said, to which gasps and murmurs spun around the circle of soldiers. You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment; the word Talokan was circling your brain. Namor. These were his people. Where was he? Why were they on your ship, killing your team? About to kill you?

“K'aaba' ti' le ajawo' (Call the king),” the woman said, to which one of the soldiers held up a large conch shell. After a beat of silence, the soldier brought it up to their lips and blew through it, a loud clarion call resounding through the air. After the call ended, the woman announced to the soldiers, “Leti' jach le ts'ook viva (She is the last alive).”

“Le ajawo' yéetel complacido (The king will be pleased),” a soldier said.

“Y/N!” came someone's voice from above. Your heart lurched when you saw Doctor Mishra from atop one of the platforms where the radio room was. You internally cursed him for revealing his presence to the soldiers. The soldiers shouted something, and one moved to go after Mishra, but before he could, a figure shot through the air towards where the doctor was.

The figure landed on the platform next to Mishra, who, before he could run away, was struck in the head with the butt of a spear; Mishra fell to the floor, alive, but unconscious. The figure flew up into the air, circled the mast, before soaring towards where you and the soldiers were, landing with a hand on the deck.

The soldiers knelt, joining their hands at the wrists and opening their palms to him. The figure moved, the wings at his angles fluttering as he stood up. Your breath caught in your throat when he set eyes on you, breaking through the circle of soldiers to stand before your kneeling figure.

“You,” was all you could breathe when Namor stared down at you, his spear gripped in his hand. His hair was slicked back with the water of the ocean, his eyes narrowed in one of the deadliest glares you had ever witnessed. A chill went up your spine.

“I gave you that because I trusted you,” Namor poked the bracelet on your wrist with the tip of his spear. Your hands were shaking now, tears pearling at the corners of your eyes. “And here you are... harvesting vibranium. Just as you promised me you would not do.”

“I... you didn’t read my letter?” you stammered out. He was scaring you. There were drops of saltwater on his eyelashes, those ebony eyes of his making you simultaneously melt with adoration and freeze with fear. “I thought... they... they lied to me, they said we were just finding the concentration, I didn’t know they were harvesting it here--”

“You lied to me,” Namor said slowly with composure. His jaw clenched. Something in his eyes changed. “You tricked me.”

“I didn’t,” you were crying now. “I didn’t. I promise, K’uk’ulkan--”

“You do not deserve to call me that,” he gave a dry scoff. He gulped. He wasn’t just angry, you saw; he was upset. Devastated. “You are now an enemy.”

“Look at the map!” you urged him, scrambling to find it. “Look at my notes! I didn’t-- it’s not even near Yucatán, it’s-- it’s just where the concentration was higher, I swear--”

“High Concentration,” the woman from before said, handing the map to Namor. He took it, unrolling it and eyeing the area you had outlined.

“What is this?” Namor asked you, not meeting your eyes. You sniffed, swallowing the frog in your throat.

“It’s-- it’s just where I found the high concentration of vibranium in the first place. I thought we were just supposed to go back to that area, in the northern Gulf, to test the concentration, and that’s what I thought we were researching! That’s what my-- that’s my project. My work.”

“Your project,” Namor repeated.

“Remember?” you practically begged. “Remember how I spent all that time working and you stopped me from getting data? That’s what I was researching! That’s what I’m doing here! I didn’t know that fucking Bernstein and Reynolds were trying to harvest vibranium! I had no idea!”

“How am I supposed to believe you?”

You could barely catch your breath. “I-- I don’t know. My map, my computer, my journal, my goddamn phone, everything’s in there. Take it all, I don’t care. Read everything I’ve ever written, you’ll see!”

Namor bent down and picked up your journal, flipping open to the first page and starting to read. Your knees were starting to hurt from how long you’ve been sitting on them. The silence was deafening, watching him flip through the journal. He read every single word, and you tried to calm your breathing as you watched his face change as he continued to flip.

When he reached the last page, he closed the journal and held it by his side. His glare was gone; he was frowning now, refusing to look at your face. Glancing up at the soldiers, he lifted a hand, to which they lowered their spears away from you and backed up. Namor extended a hand to you as if to help you to your feet. You eyed it hesitantly, but seeing the grimace on his face, you took it and stood.

He didn’t say anything. It was like he couldn’t. He avoided your eyes, and without a word, he turned around towards the railing, resting his forearms on it with a sigh. You were still shaking, but as your fear subsided, you felt the anger bubbling up in your stomach. A drop of blood fell from your nose, touching your top lip.

“You killed everyone,” you muttered, wiping the blood off of your lip. He turned his head and said nothing. “Your people almost killed me.”

“I will do anything for my people,” he told you carefully. His voice was wavering. “If they are threatened, I do not care what it takes. I will protect them.”

You weren’t sure what to say. You walked up beside him, resting your arms on the railing, too. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see his chest rising and falling with a quick cadence, and despite not being able to hear his fast breathing, you could see he was becoming flustered.

“I pray you can find it in you to understand my motives,” he continued. You, again, said nothing. You could barely form words, your mouth dry. There was something warm on the back of your neck; you brought your hand up to touch it, only to find fresh blood on the pads of your fingers. The spears had cut you. Namor glanced over at your bloodied hand, brows twitching. He reached towards you, “Allow me to--”

You flinched back. You couldn’t look at him. He dropped his hands and bowed his head, staring at the waters below. They were calm, now, the sharks and dolphins no longer splashing about. That whale you had seen had gone, too. You willed your rapid beating heart to cease, wishing your chest would stop twisting and turning.

“I get it,” you murmured, using the collar of your shirt to wipe the last bit of blood from your nose. Namor’s head twitched up, eyes on you in less than a second. “Gotta protect your people, just like you were when you wouldn’t let me take those samples. But this... this is... what I saw...”

“If I had known you weren’t apart of it, I would never have let--”

“I wish you had trusted me,” you sniffled, finally looking at him. His ebony eyes were wider than you had ever seen them, brown brows tilted upwards in a form of desperation you would have never picture them having. He was beautiful. “My letter, I thought... I thought I explained it.”

“You did,” Now that Namor had caught your eyes, he didn’t dare look away in fear of losing them again. “You did, I... jumped to conclusions.”

“You jumped to conclusions,” you repeated, breaking the eye contact. You clenched your jaw. “So you killed my entire team.”

Namor’s mouth opened and closed like a fish for a second, unable to find proper words. “You have to understand where I’m coming from, here. These ships harvesting our vibranium-- Talokan’s vibranium-- would put us at risk. It could lead to the end of my people.”

“I know,” you sighed, closing your eyes and putting your head on your hands where they rested against the railing. The ocean’s breeze struck at your forehead, cooling your skin and blowing your hair off your face. Namor didn’t say anything, but you could feel him looming closer. You hid your face from him.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice so soft you almost didn’t hear him over the breeze. “Please look at me.”

After a prolonged second, you lifted your head from your arms, the breeze chilling the tears that had rolled down your cheeks. You couldn’t meet his eyes. You couldn’t bear it.

“Take me home,” you said quietly. He blinked. “Please.”

“To... to Yucatán?” he inquired, a layer of hope underneath his words.

“No,” something was twisting in your chest. “To Miami.”

“...right now?”

“Yes.”

Namor didn’t move, just staring at you with those puppy dog eyes that made you want to wrap your arms around him and pull him into you.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “Please, Y/N, we have to--”

“Yes, I am sure,” you said pointedly, despite the wobbling of your voice. “It’s not like there’s anything for me to do here, anyways. Everyone’s dead.”

Namor raised an arm, and the female Talokanil soldier from earlier came to his side. He muttered something to her in his native language; you hadn’t bothered to listen, for one because you didn’t speak a word, but for two because for some reason, hearing his voice was making it difficult to hold your ground.

“Come,” he said to you, holding his hand out. You glanced over at him; he began to rise from the ground, wings on his ankles keeping him suspended in the air. You glanced at his hand. “Do you trust me?”

You felt your lower lip tremble.

“I don’t know,” you said, grabbing his hand anyways. He frowned, his eyes more glassy than ever. You wondered if he would cry. He pulled you up, gently wrapping an arm around your waist and holding you tight on his side, his other arm holding his spear.

In a flash, you were soaring towards the horizon, the cold, salty air whipping you in the face as he flew. His skin was cold against yours, and despite your anger, you pushed yourself against him, wondering when the next time you’d feel him would be.

The gold of his jewelry pressed against your skin, and you stared at the way in glinted under the pale moonlight. You stared at him, the jade in his septum, the point of his ears, the bronze of his skin. There were tears prickling at the corners of his eyes, prevented from rolling down his face and simply flying away from the force of the wind.

You hadn’t realized how quickly you were flying. The shore was near, you could see the lights of the city as you approached it. You slowed, your hair relaxing from the absence of the harsh wind. Scrunching your nose to get some feeling back in it, your feet skimmed the top layer of the ocean as he brought you to the sand and let you go.

You dusted your self off, fixing your head and allowing yourself to adjust to being back on the ground. You had gotten dizzy from the flight, but came to it in less than a minute. You glanced at where his hand still held his spear. When he saw you look at it, he lowered it without hesitation. You finally laid eyes on Namor. The tears from earlier had fallen onto his cheek.

“Do you fear me?” he asked.

“I fear what you’re capable of,” you muttered. “Because I don’t think you’ll ever trust me.”

“I trust you,” he breathed. You frowned. “I trust you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I do,” he insisted, falling to his knees in front of you. His ebony hair was partially covering his eyes, but the wind suddenly pushed it back so you could see his face. Your eyes widened, gaze lowering to where he sat. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I trust you. Fully.”

You could barely believe the sight before you; Namor, on his knees. You were cruel, you thought. You were still crying.

“I just need some time,” you said, feeling your heart change at the sight of him. His eyes kept flickered around your face, to one eye, to your nose, to your lips, to the other eye, back to your lips. “Okay?”

“Time?” he repeated, nodding, knees digging into the sand, wings on his ankles fluttering a bit. “Yes, that’s-- as much time as you want.”

“Okay,” you sighed. Namor slowly rose to his feet, reminding you of the way he towered over you. He didn’t let his eyes leave yours, as if he were trying to tell you something tacitly. He looked at your lips.

He lifted his hands towards your face, and when you didn’t flinch away, he cupped both of your cheeks with his palms. You closed your eyes, heart thumping.

“Whenever you are ready,” he began, his thumb rubbing over your cheekbone. “I’ll be here. All right?”

“Mm-hm,” you said, letting yourself look at him. He nodded, biting the inside of his cheek.

“Good-bye,” he said. He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your hairline so tenderly you thought you might start sobbing right then and there. Before you could say anything more, he soared up into the air, flying away and disappearing into the midnight sky. You wiped at your cheeks, ridding the tears, and with a sigh, you turned around and made for your apartment.

---

taglist:

@childishnewt @criesinlies @fairydxll @cassiestars777 @mcximvffs @kaqua @xlucyintheskywithdiamondsx @eichenhouseproperty @aliyahsomerhalder @lovenewfandoms @justkay2 @only-his3 @deadlydahlias @nellycanwrite @vlamley @seraphimcollections @kingtwhiddleston @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @doimakeyounervous @blue-chup @myotakureprieve @lulu-83 @seraphimcollections @kingtwhiddleston @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @atabeyguabancex @doimakeyounervous @chaoticevilbakugo @theamericanjewitch @tian-monique @kentucky-criedfricken @takeyour-pants-off

a/n: please remember to update your privacy settings so i can tag you!! so many people asked to be on the taglist but then i can’t tag them for some reason... please make sure you update it! thanks everyone <3

#namor #namor fanfic #namor fanfiction #namor x reader #namor mcu #namor x you #namor fic #tenoch huerta #wakanda forever #k'uk'ulkan of talokan #vibranium #namor of talokan #k'uk'ulkan x reader #k'uk'ulkan #mcu #Black Panther 2 #con la brisa #angst #tenoch

623 notes · View notes