#yandere mcu x y/n

[faesdreaming]

Yandere Namor Headcanon

an: I’ll work on requests I swear, I’ve just been obsessed with this man

tw: yandere themes, Black Panther: Wakanda Forever Spoilers, stalking, overprotective behaviour, kidnapping, captivity, ooc

•Namor, a child without love as he’d been cursed, did not have it within his heart to love another. His love lay with his people. That was until he happened upon you. An inquisitive human who was investigating the legend of K'uk'ulkan. At first, he’d planned to kill you as he did with all others that had come to find him ans Talokan. However, your intentions, unlike the others, was honourable. You only visited out of curiosity, and acted respectfully towards the land and the people of the village. Namor began to observe you. He watched you from afar as you continued to search for him, for any signs for him. He never let you catch on though.

•Frustrated by your fruitless efforts, you decided to leave in resignation. Despite hiding himself from you, Namor wasn’t prepared for you to go. He’d spent so much time watching you that he grew obsessed. He was completely enamoured with you, with your mannerisms, your habits, your laugh, your smile, everything about you. You were a pure being. The cruel surface world was undeserving of you. So, the day you were meant to leave, you visited the beach one last time as a sort of nostalgic end visit. That’s when you saw him, emerging out of the water. You stood there, stunned. Here before you was K'uk'ulkan in all his glory. And he was glorious. He must’ve been the most gorgeous man you’d ever seen. The silence between you two grew as you eyes raked him over, taking him in. Slowly, he moved towards you, then he uttered your name. That single utterance of your name caused your insides to double over, twisting and turning.

“K'uk'ulkan,” you whispered in awe, eyes widened. Smiling, he corrected you, “Namor. You’ve been searching for me.”

Still in awe, you nodded slowly. “You wish to see it, do you not? My home,” asked Namor, outstretching his hand in an unspoken offer. He was inviting you, a mere human, to see his home. Your heart was pounding in your chest as you cautiously took his hand. He pressed a mask to your face and before you could register what was happening, you were being pulled under the water.

•Namor took you to an underwater cave where you didn’t need a mask. This is where you’d be staying, he told you. You didn’t pay any thought towards his ominous tone, too absorbed with the mesmerizing beauty of the cave. Namor then showed you to a high-tech deep-sea diving suit. Once you were suited up, Namor showed you Talokan. The underwater city was ethereal. You marvelled at the sights and the people, all who received you warmly. Namor’s heart swelled watching you interact with his people as if they were your own, well they would be soon.

•You enjoyed your time at Talokan. All your needs and wants were met. You adored spending time with the people, especially the children. However, eventually, the novelty wore off and you grew homesick. You tried to bring it up with Namor but he would either change the course of the conversation or just blow you off entirely. This dodgy behaviour worked up your irritation until it finally spilled over.

“Namor!” you called out. Namor turned around, his face set in an adoring smile. “I need to talk to you.”

“What is it? Is there anything you need?” He asked sweetly.

“I want to leave, and don’t try changing the subject. I love it here in Talokan, but this isn’t my home. I have a home, a life back on the surface that I need to return too,” you said, pleadingly.

Something in Namor’s eyes changed, and he titled his head in confusion. Then, he laughed. “Darling, tell me, what did you expect to happen once you accepted my hand. Did you believe that Talokan has remained hidden for so long through allowing people free range?”

Your heart rate quickened, and you stuttered, trying to formulate a response. You hadn’t thought of the future consequences, lost in the thought of experiencing the myths you’d studied for so long first hand. Chuckling, Namor closed the distance between you two and cupped your face with his hands. “Worry not, beloved. Talokan shall offer you far more than the surface world ever could.”

#yandere mcu #yandere mcu x reader #yandere namor #yandere namor x reader #yandere marvel #yandere marvel x reader #mcu namor #namor #namor x reader #mcu x y/n #mcu x reader #marvel x reader #marvel x y/n #mcu x you #yandere mcu x you #yandere mcu x y/n #yandere marvel x y/n #yandere marvel x you

[fandomnerd9602]

Wanda and Natasha walk into the diner and wrap Y/N in a hug…

Natasha: hey Y/N what’s wrong?

Y/N: my date never showed up

Wanda: oh detka. We will make it all feel better

Natasha: that girl wasn’t worth your time.

Y/N: wait! How would you know?

Wanda: I may have used some magic on her to make sure she wouldn’t show up

Y/N: what?!

Natasha: shh…you’re all ours now

Wanda: (purrs) we’ll be better girlfriends than she ever could be.

Y/N: o-okay

#marvel #marvel imagine #marvel fluff #mcu #mcu imagine #mcu fandom #marvel incorrect quotes #incorrect marvel quotes #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #scarlet witch #yandere wandanat #wandanat #wandanat x reader #wandanat x y/n #wandanat x you #wanda x reader #wanda x you #natasha x reader #natasha x you

[multifariousqueer]

Hello girl! how are you? doing well?

Can I request a E 42 yandere miles X reader? Am yes, E 42 reader is dead, omg how original XD

But the E 42 reader had this "church girl" or "flower girl" innocent type persona. And when E 1610 reader arrived with miles, she is a loud, cusses out a lot and has a hammer with her at all times.

E 42 miles sees her and while stunned to see such drastic personality change, he still sees his beloved in her and wants to keep her in his world and in his life? Add flashbacks if ya like! you can change it if you want! whatever makes it be awesome! luv you! <3

Hey, love!! I can totally do this

Suerte- Miles G x Reader

A/n: I hope y’all enjoy this!!

Warnings: strong language, angst, suggestiveness, reader being a spider person, descriptions of blood and yandere behavior, kidnapping, lmk if I missed anymore

You were falling off of a building, it seemed your screams would never end as you looked up into the endless sky waiting for someone, anyone to save you. Miles watched as he tried to run and save you but by then it was too late, the sound of your skull hitting the pavement and the crimson blood that flowed from your nose was enough to indicate that you were gone and there was no saving you. Miles cradled your softer skull as the police and ambulance arrived.

Suddenly, Miles woke up in a cold sweat. It was Sunday now, and he had to get ready for church the only reason he was going was because you convinced him too

You managed to convince Miles to do just about anything; he just couldn’t say no to your adorable face and he hated disappointing you. You two seemed like an odd couple at first, with Miles being tough, cold and closed off whereas you were bright, happy, innocent and it seemed like you could do no wrong. You went to church every Sunday, you prayed all the time, you helped everyone and everything and Miles fell for your soft innocence and your warmth. He fell for your simplicity, your poise, your patience and how you felt like a piece of heaven.

The day he lost you was the day he lost himself. Miles was never the same after you left; he closed himself off completely and adopted the Prowler moniker. He felt like he failed you and that you would be so dissapointed if you saw him now. Miles would have flashbacks to you telling him how much you loved him and how you would always love him in every universe, so he decided to pray and beg God for you back and eventually, he got that.

“MILES WHERE THE FLYING FUCK ARE WE??” you shouted

“I’M TRYING TO FIGURE THAT OUT, Y/N” Miles shouted back

You and your Miles were best friends since you both came to Visions. He found out you had powers the same as him and you two clicked immediately. It seemed you two were fated to be together; same music taste, fashion choices and morals its just you were a bit more harsh than him

“I think we’re home?” Miles questioned

“I don’t remember Brooklyn looking this shitty” you said

“It’s just dark, come on, we can go to my house. My mom loves you” you said

Mrs. Morales loved you because not only were you quick on your feet, you also made Miles happy and you made a great first impression. She thought you were exactly like Miles, just more abrasive and she thought you were sweet.

You went to Miles room and it looked different, almost more grown. Your spider-sense went off and just as you went to tell Miles, Rio was there and greeting him. She looked at you like she had seen a ghost, tears spilling from her...green eyes??

“Y/n?” she whispered

“Yeah? Hi Mrs. Morales” you went, going to give her a hug which she reciprocated just more eagerly

“Oh Mija, I thought you were dead. Gracias Dios, you answered my prayers” she said, sobbing and looking up at the sky

Her and Miles had a conversation and you both revealed your identities in which she was indifferent about. Suddenly, the door opened to reveal an Uncle Aaron.

He saw you and his eyes went wide. He stalked closer to you before grabbing your shoulders and shaking his head

“Is it really you, y/n?” he said

“uhh yeah last time I checked” you chuckled, grabbing your body as a joke

“Where did you go? How are you here?” he asked in disbelief

“Well interesting story actually, we used something called our legs and walked here” you joked, usually Aaron could appreciate your humor because it was one of the things he told Miles before he died

“Miles, you won’t find another girl like her. Girls like y/n don’t come around like that so I’d advise you to keep her"

“Got it” Miles would say

It was like you were looking into a portal of dead people, your entire body clenched when his gaze suddenly went cold.

He lead Miles and you to the roof when suddenly, you felt a strong stinging in your neck and just as you were about to hit the floor, a strong pair of arms grabbed you and you heard voices

“She’s not your, y/n man. She’s meaner”

“I don’t care"

You awoke with a splitting headache on a couch. Your limbs were handcuffed together and it was dark; your eyes immediately went to search for your Miles when you saw him tied to a bag

“He won’t be up for a bit, hes out cold. Maybe we can keep him that way” a voice said

“He’s not the only one who’s gonna be out cold. Who the fuck are you and what do you want?” you snapped

“Hm. So hostile, my Y/n would never speak like that” a man said approaching you

“Dawg are you smoking crack? Speed? Bath Salts? Because you gotta be fucked up if you think-“ you started

“la muchacha sucia(dirty girl), I should’ve put that gag on you while you were out” he said, taking off his mask to reveal your boyfriend just more gaunt

“Listen here you Rick and Morty knockoff, if you try that, I will bite your finger off, comprende?” you said

“Si. Eres muy bonita pero tu boca es tan asquerosa. I can tell you aren’t from here” he smirked

“Just so you know, just because you called me pretty doesn’t mean I won’t crush your nuts the second I get out of these chains. Listen, your knockoff prowler suit doesn’t scare me and neither do these chains, I could break out right now but I’m intrigued” you said

You heard groaning and saw your Miles move

“MILES” you screamed into the other Miles’ ear

“Y/N. GET AWAY FROM HER” your Miles shouted

The other Miles ignored him but he grabbed your throat and forced you to look up at him

“It’s not a knockoff mami and unless you want to find out just how powerful this suit can be, I suggest you pipe down. It’s gonna take a bit of work, maybe force” he tightened his grip at force, causing your eyes to water and your tongue to come out

“But I think I can make it work. You may not be exactly like her, but you’ll be close enough” Miles said, lowly

If the circumstances weren’t what they were, Miles would’ve found your position hot, you were tied up, tongue hanging out a bit and your eyes looked so pretty; in his mind, you were giving him the “fuck me” eyes but in reality, you were using this as a way to escape

The idea of playing along until he got his wish came to mind but you realized this was deeper than that, he wanted you in every form and if it wasn’t you, what’s to stop him from taking another version of you that may accidentally come by.

“What happened, mami? You had so much to say, say it.” Miles taunted, hand still flush against your throat

“Yeah its kinda hard when you’re choking the life outta me” you said

He took his hand off your throat and you coughed.

“Dude just leave her alone, okay? You can have me, kill me just please let her go” your Miles said, his voice faltering at the end

“Oh but where’s the fun in that? Plus cabron, I don’t want you at all, its not about you. It’s about her and her making a promise

“What promise did I make?” you asked

Miles got a flashback of you laying next to him, playing with his braids and giggling

“I’ll love you in every universe, Miles Morales” you said sweetly

Miles teared up and explained this to you

“Okay well bud, I’m not her and in a way, I do love you in every universe, I love my Miles but” you said before he slammed his fist next to you, causing you to yelp

“I am your Miles, mi amor. At least, I will be. I’m never letting you go again” he said close to your face, hovering above your lips before getting up and striding over to your Miles

#mcu fanfiction #miles morales #miles morales x reader #miles morales x y/n #miles morales headcannons #across the spiderverse #miles x reader #spider man: across the spider verse #spiderman #across the spiderverse spoilers #e42 miles #earth 42 miles #miles 42 #miles g #miles g morales #miles morales prowler #prowler miles #yandere miles morales #marry me miles #marvel #yandere spiderverse #spiderman into the spiderverse #into the spider verse #spider man atsv #atsv #spider man #foryou

[spider-stark]

A DARK AGE

next part

summary - it's been nine months since you watched your best friend, gwen stacy, plummet to her death; an event that ultimately caused new york's hero to abandon the city entirely. now that he's finally returned you find yourself being forced to confront the ugly truth you've been running from.

series warnings - 18+, minors DNI, will contain depictions of violence, sexual content, dark themes, and more. i will do my best to place warnings at the beginning of each chapter, but please read at your own risk.

word count - 10.3k

// a dark tasm!fan fiction // masterlist // send me your thoughts //

THE BUGLE was buzzing to life in a way it hadn’t in ages. Landlines were ringing off the hook, accentuated by a chorus of email and text notifications crying out from every cell phone in the building. As you stepped out of the elevator you found yourself staring at a sea of amateur reporters, all of them gathering on the far side of the office around a television set. 

You clutched the coffee in your hand tighter to keep it from spilling as a young man accidentally bumped into you, quickly moving to join the herd of his peers. You shot him a nasty look, ignoring the swift apology he muttered out as he continued to rush past you. 

Despite your intrigue at the collective panic of your coworkers, you didn’t bother moving to join them around the TV. Instead, you walked the clear opposite direction, making a beeline for the office of the only man in New York City that you trusted to know exactly what all of this fuss was about. 

“What the fuck is going on?” 

Workplace etiquette had flown out the window for you a long time ago. Reporters didn’t have time for benevolence. 

“They’re acting like rowdy animals out there. Foswell is running around the office like he’s in a goddamn marathon! Nearly gave me a third degree burn trying to get past me.” 

A vehement grunt was the first thing to leave Jameson’s mouth, which constituted a typical greeting for him. Following it was the shrill squeak of his old office chair as he spun around to face you. “Haven’t seen the news, y/l/n?” 

You furrowed your brows. “We are the news.” 

Another noise of discontent, followed by a hand coming up to rub viciously at his eyes. If you had learned anything during your time at the Bugle, it was that Jameson was always upset, which meant that you rarely found his vexed appearance very concerning. Yet, despite that, you couldn’t help but get the feeling that something was off. 

“The Daily Globe.” The name of the Bugle’s biggest competitor slipped past his lips like a slur, Jameson’s lip curling as if it had somehow left a bad taste in his mouth. “Some jackass at the station leaked info to them before they even got the crime scene taped off. Bushkin had everything plastered on their front page this morning before most of us even had time to pour a bowl of Special fucking K!” 

“What crime scene?” 

His hand dropped from his face down to his lap, shooting daggers straight at you. “You’re a reporter, y/l/n! Check the fucking headlines for once in your life!” 

“Sorry,” you sneered at him, “some of us actually have a life outside of work.” 

Of everyone at the Bugle, you were the only one with the authority (and the audacity) to backtalk Jameson and actually live to tell the tale. It was a perk of being his top investigative reporter, one that you never let go to waste. 

If anyone else dared to get snarky with him, he’d likely send a paperweight flying at their head. But, since it was you, he only responded to your comment with a dry chuckle—primarily because he was aware that you were lying through your teeth. 

The Bugle was all that was left of your life, the one remaining piece after you had lost everything nine months ago. Jameson knew how fresh the wound still was, how hard you fought to ignore what you’d gone through, and so he elected not to make an actual comment on your remark; a subtle indication that the crotchety man actually did have a heart. 

“Remember Aleksei Sytsevich?” 

You nodded, patience already growing thin as you waited for him to finally just tell you what happened. At this point you were beginning to think you would have been better off to gather around the TV with the rookies. “Of course I remember him,” you told him, “I’m the one that wrote the story on him hijacking that Oscorp truck last year. He goes by the Rhino now, right?” 

Each of you formed your own twisted expressions at the name Sytsevich had picked for himself. The name was fitting given the military grade battlesuit he’d managed to snag from Oscorp, but it was a tad too on the nose for your taste. It lacked creativity, though neither of you really expected anything better to come from the former Russian mafia leader. 

“Sometime last night he was found in an alley off 102nd.” Jameson declared, following you with his eyes as you moved towards his desk, taking a seat in one of the old chairs that sat in front of it. “Beaten to a goddamn bloody pulp.” 

Your nose scrunched up slightly. 

If it were anyone other than Sytsevich that had been left to bleed out in the dead of the night, you might have felt a bit of sympathy for them. But, instead, you only felt hopeful that Jameson would confirm the question that already fell past your lips, “He’s dead?” 

It was cruel to wish death on anyone. You should have felt guilty for the way your chest swelled with hope as you waited for Jameson to reply, but you didn’t. New York was running short on heroes these days, which meant that more and more criminals had begun to use that to their advantage, making a hobby out of terrorizing the innocent. 

Sytsevich had already escaped the Vault once, the so-called impenetrable prison, which meant that sending him back to jail was all but useless. But death? Not even Sytsevich would be able to crawl back from that. 

“No.” 

Your heart nearly sank, and you could tell that the sentiment was shared by Jameson, who looked equally as disappointed. After all of the innocent lives Sytsevich had claimed, he deserved to be put six feet under. 

“Not yet, at least.” He clarified, “As soon as they noticed a pulse they had him life-flighted to North General. Good news is that they don’t think he’s gonna make it through the weekend.” 

You snorted at Jameson’s execution of the comment, as well as the childlike joy that seemed to twinkle in his eyes as he thought about the possibility of Sytsevich finally being gone for good. Still, you could tell that there was more. That he hadn’t quite told you the full story. 

While the impending death of a former mafia leader was quite a story, there was little chance that it had been enough to piss Jameson off so much that the Daily Globe got word of it first. 

Criminals die every day, especially in a city like this. It was hardly front page material. 

“So you mean to tell me that the world is in hysteria all because Sytsevich is about to kick the bucket?” You questioned him, nudging your head in the direction of his office door, encouraging him to acknowledge his frantic employees as they paced the office floor. 

“It sucks that the Globe got to it first, but we should be celebrating!” As demented as it might seem, it was true. “But instead you’re in here wallowing as if we just missed out on the story of the year.” 

The joy that he had felt just moments ago was now extinguished entirely, replaced with an expression that carried far more weight. 

“You’re right. Sytsevich dying an excruciating death would be a fucking fit from a God I don’t believe in, y/l/n.” His forehead creased, thin lines appearing between his brows as he pressed a button on the laptop in front of him, tapping a few keys before turning the screen around to face you. “But the story isn’t just about his death—it’s about who killed him.” 

A wave of shock slammed into you like a ton of bricks, hard enough that it made you lose your grip on the disposable cup in your hand, the contents of it staining the old carpet that lined Jameson’s office. Neither of you paid any mind to the mess and you became consumed by the headline on the homepage of the Daily Globes website. 

SPIDER-MAN RETURNS - BRUTALLY ATTACKS ESCAPED CRIMINAL 

Your eyes grew wide, air getting caught in your lungs as you worked to keep yourself from vomiting right on Jameson’s desk. 

“No.” The word slipped out from under your breath without approval, a flash of pity washing over Jameson’s face as he took in your reaction. He had expected it, though, aware that of every reporter in New York, you would likely have the most intense response to the news. 

But your shock quickly began to morph into something more closely resembling rage. “There’s no way, right? Spider-Man’s been awol for months, J! They really expect us to think that out of every enemy Sytsevich has made that Spider-Man would be to one to fucking kill him? It’s bullshit! They’re just trying to get eyes on their shitty paper!” 

Jameson’s brows raised, clearly agreeing with the sentiment. He was never one to miss an opportunity to slam the Globe. “Normally I’d agree with you,” he mused, turning the laptop back around, “but the NYPD confirmed that Sytsevich was restrained with webs, y/l/n. It doesn’t look good.” 

Your blood ran cold, turning to ice in your veins. Darkness started to take over your peripheral vision, threatening to consume the entire space around you. Images flashed through your head—asphalt painted with thick blood, bones snapping, his gruesome screams—it was a past that you had fought so hard to put behind you, only for it to now creep back up on you. 

You instinctively clutched the bag at your side, half debating reaching inside for the little orange bottle you hadn’t touched in months. You restrained yourself though, terrified to feel as if you needed to rely on the pills again. Things were getting better. 

“Spider-Man’s not a murderer.” Your voice was so hesitant, so uncertain, and it made it difficult to tell who the statement was meant to convince, Jameson or yourself. 

Jameson’s shoulders lifted into a lazy shrug as he leaned back in the rickety chair, the plastic creaking at the shift of his weight. You were aware of his stance on Spider-Man, but even he had never considered the possibility of the vigilante committing something like this. 

“No, he isn’t.” He agreed with you, evoking a bit of shock. “But he’s about to be. He’s the only one that can be linked to the crime scene. If Sytsevich dies—and it’s only a matter of time—then Spider-Man’s the one going down for it.” 

Your mind was reeling, yet your body remained motionless, your gaze fixed onto the floor. Coffee still leaked from your cup, forming a sizable stain that only grew with every second that passed. You didn’t care. 

It had been months since anyone had last seen Spider-Man, and during that time, New York had already begun to turn on him. Citizens hadn’t yet forgotten their debt to him, the countless times in which he’d nearly laid his life down for the city, but that didn’t mean that many hadn’t grown to resent him. 

They had been abandoned by their hero, left to question if he was even still alive. And if this was how he returned? A killer? 

“It’ll turn into a man-hunt.” 

There was no other outcome for it, you both knew that much. Since his disappearance, an eerie sense of unrest had settled in the streets. Spider-Man’s absence had created a whole slew of problems, things that the NYPD weren’t equipped to handle. Hope had already become such a precarious thing, and if it were confirmed that their lost hero had abandoned his own code of ethics? It would destroy all that's left. It would unleash pure chaos. 

It would be the dawn of a new age. 

A dark age. 

“Maybe.” He was being cautious with his approach, aware that this topic had the ability to turn you into little more than a ticking time bomb. “Still, there’s not any cold hard proof that he was the one to send Sytsevich to his death bed. All they know for certain is that he was at the crime scene.” 

It was strange to hear those words from Jameson, crafted as a defense for the vigilante he swore to hate. If anything, that only increased your already heightened level of fear. 

Of everyone in the world, you would have never imagined that Jonah J. Jameson would be willing to testify that Spider-Man was innocent in anything. 

“I already told Urich to assemble a team, get out on the streets, and start finding some real proof. I’ve got a source at North General giving me hourly updates on Sytsevich, but we still don’t have much time to put together a story.” 

Your eyes snapped up to meet his, your face contorting into a sour expression as you flung out of your chair, ignoring everything about his statement except for one detail. 

“Fuck Urich!” You screamed loud enough that more than a few heads turned from outside Jameson’s office, a few of them now attempting to eavesdrop as the conversation became heated. “This is my story, J.” 

He sucked in a deep breath, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. He’d anticipated this reaction too. 

“No, y/l/n, it’s not!” Jameson’s own voice boomed, easily rivaling yours in volume. You didn’t so much as flinch. “Last time you chased a story with that Spider-fuck you nearly died! You’re staying away, got it?” 

You gritted your teeth, taking another step towards his desk, closing in on him. “You said it yourself J, we’re running out of time, right? You need someone that knows what they’re dealing with. Urich doesn’t have any connections to Spider-Man! I do!” 

Somehow you believed that preaching these facts to Jameson would change his mind, as if he didn’t already know about your past encounters with the hero, like he wasn’t the one that published the stories you had done on him. 

“I’m one of the last people to even see him alive, J!” You reminded him, finally letting your tone drop back to a normal volume as you continued, “Urich might be able to snoop around a crime scene, but I’m the only one with a chance of getting an actual statement from him.” 

Both of you knew that your claim was a bit far-fetched. If this were last year, getting a statement from Spider-Man would have been a piece of cake for you. But now? 

It was different. 

Either way, Jameson didn’t seem willing to budge. “A statement isn’t worth losing my best reporter.” 

If the circumstances were different you likely would’ve teased him for the comment, for making it so obvious that you were one of the only things to matter more to Jonah J. Jameson than a story. 

“Fine.” You snapped, clicking your tongue against the roof of your mouth as you challenged him. “Then I quit.” 

His face blanched. “You what?” 

“I’ll pursue the story on my own. Get a detailed fucking statement from Spider-Man—a few pictures, too.” You crossed your arms over your chest, entirely unwavering as you held his gaze. “Then I’ll sell it to the Globe.” 

Jameson’s face turned beet red, his eyes narrowing at your threat. “Don’t be stupid. You’d need an entire team to go after a story this big.” 

You mocked the lazy shrug he had offered just moments ago. “No, Urich needs a team. All I need is a few hours and some phone calls.”

Ben Urich would need access to several of the Bugle’s best reporters in order to conduct enough research to even know where to begin. Aside from that, you and Jameson both knew that one of the best potential sources for this story layed beyond the gates of Ravencroft—and Jameson would have a hell of a time trying to get authorization for an interview with any of their prisoners. 

But you? 

You could get in with a simple phone call. 

“This isn’t a game, y/l/n.” Jameson cautioned. “The night Spider-Man disappeared—when I got that call from the hospital—I thought you were gonna be dead, y/ln.” 

A pang of guilt shot through your chest and he reminded you of that night. When you arrived in the emergency room they had tried to call your emergency contacts—but you knew they wouldn’t answer, that they were the reason you were even there. Jameson was the only one that answered, the only one to show up. 

You knew how much guilt he still faced for pushing you to chase another Spider-Man story, for encouraging you to get closer to the vigilante, only for it to land you in a hospital bed with several broken bones and a grade three concussion. 

Sometimes you wished that you could tell him it wasn’t his fault. That you were already in too deep, long before you had started chasing another story, even if you didn’t realize it at the time. But you couldn’t. 

“If you take this story then you’re putting yourself at risk. Again. You’ll be destroying everything you’ve worked for.” 

Blood pooling, bones snapping, his screams echoing. 

You bit your cheek until you tasted crimson, shoving the hellish thoughts from your mind. “Are you gonna take Urich off the story or not?” 

Jameson’s shoulders immediately slouched, his disappointment evident as the corners of his mouth turned downwards. But he knew you—too well, which meant he knew that nothing would stop you from following this story. 

So, against his better judgment, he straightened his posture and tried to mask his own emotions, but you could still tell how much it had hurt him to mutter out the word—“Fine.” 

You didn’t plan on waiting around long enough to hear anything else he might have to say, already turning on your heel and aiming for the door, knowing that it was best to leave before he changed his mind altogether. Still, just before the door slammed closed behind you, you heard him speak. 

“Your funeral.” 

His snide comment left a bad taste in your mouth, pungent and unpalatable, but you did your best to ignore it. There wasn’t any time to comprehend the gravity of his statement, to consider just how close you had come to death last time. 

If Jameson was right about anything, it was that time was of the essence. The sooner Spider-Man could be proven innocent the better. 

So instead of dwelling on it and risking uprooting your past trauma, you shoved your way through the crammed newsroom, coming to a halt only when you could plant yourself at the edge of Urich’s desk. He looked up at you through his thickly-rimmed glasses, brows knitting together. 

“This your team?” You asked him, an idle finger pointing to the crew of unfamiliar faces that surrounded the desk. 

Urich gave a stiff nod. 

“Great.” The smile you gave was sickening, filled with misplaced animosity. You scanned over the group, your gaze ultimately settling on the figure directly to his left, a somewhat tall woman with neatly bobbed hair. Out of everyone, she was the only one armed with a pencil and notepad, having taken note of his every word. “What’s your name?” 

The women seemed stunned, her voice shaking the tiniest bit as she responded. “Betty. Betty Brant.” 

“Nice to meet you Ms. Brant.” Your tone was much milder when speaking to Brant, though it quickly turned harsh again as you shifted your attention back to Urich. “I’m taking over the story. Jameson already gave me clearance, so please, if you plan on whining about it, keep it between the two of you, mkay?” 

Urich’s usually squinty eyes suddenly widened behind his lenses, thin lines settling into his forehead. He didn’t even have time to open his mouth in protest before you had already cut him off. 

“Anyone who isn’t Brant can get out of my face. I don’t have a use for you.” A dismissive hand was waved at the small crowd, although none of them bothered to move more than a few feet away, too interested in eavesdropping to venture any further. 

“And, um, what is it that you’d like me to do?” Betty Brant was quite the apprehensive woman, her lack of confidence shining through in quite literally everything she did. She was new to this, that much was obvious, but you still found yourself with some sort of intuitive faith in the girl. 

“I need you to track down some information for me.” 

A pit suddenly grew in your stomach as it dawned on you that this would be the first time you had so much as uttered his name since that night. He had essentially become a ghost to you, capable of haunting every corner of your mind without ever reentering your life. It was easier that way, though. Avoiding him had been the best way to recover from him; even if that meant treating his name like a curse. 

You took a deep breath, garnering every ounce of strength you had left to ensure your voice wouldn’t crack. “I need a way to get into contact with Peter Parker. He used to work here, but the number we have on file isn’t in service anymore.” 

Once. 

In the nine months since it happened, you had only tried to call him once. With the phone pressed to your face you had already prepared yourself to hear the dial tone go on for ages, fully aware that he’d just let it go to voicemail. He didn’t want to talk to you—he didn’t want to talk to anyone. But, instead, you were greeted by a prerecorded message saying the number had been disconnected. 

And that was the closest you ever got to a goodbye from Peter. 

“Parker?” Urich finally got a word out. “What’s he gotta do with this?” 

You didn’t have any intention of offering him a detailed explanation, your back already turned to him as you spoke over your shoulder. “He’s the only one to ever get a clear shot of Spider-Man. If everything goes as planned, I’m gonna need his skillset.” 

It wasn’t a complete lie, but it also wasn’t the full truth. Regardless, it was the best defense you had for needing a way to contact Peter; one that wouldn’t raise any suspicions. If anything, you would have preferred to start your hunt for information with Peter, because then you would’ve been able to avoid Ravencroft altogether. But, unfortunately, Peter was little more than a dead end right now. 

“Jameson has my number–get it from him and text me as soon as you have a lead!” 

It was the last order you barked before disappearing into the elevator, quick to rush off to the first destination on your list. You had to get moving, at least until you could find a way to talk to Peter, which meant you needed to start gathering the names of anyone who might’ve actually wanted Sytsevich dead. 

Unfortunately, that meant hailing a taxi to Westchester County and digging up another ghost from your past. 

You hastily pressed the button for the ground floor, your other hand already delving into your bag, grabbing your phone and dialing the number that had called you many times over the past months; a number you rarely answered. 

“Hi, this is y/n y/l/n calling,” a weight settled deep within your stomach, accompanied by a shiver running down your spine as you forced yourself to speak, “could I speak with Leonard Samson? I would like to take him up on his visitation offer. Please tell him that I want to speak with Harry Osborn as soon as possible.”

The Ravencroft Institute for the Criminally Insane was not for the faint of heart. 

At first glance, most would consider it a fine establishment. The ornate iron gates lining the property seek to paint a picture of elegance, while the impenetrable stone walls offer those on the outside a sense of security—serving as a silent oath that those on the other side can’t get out. 

While technically labeled a prison, Ravencroft always insists that they place treatment above punishment for those incarcerated here. They pushed this motto, staff members regularly appearing on the local news to preach of mercy and remission; despite the fact that no one committed to the facility had ever made it out alive. 

Ravencroft’s prisoners weren’t always as willing to keep up the facility's pristine public image though, well known for spitting in the face of that ‘guise of elegance they’d worked to build. It was because of their sharp tongues that Ravencroft rarely let reporters past the front gates, petrified of what they might learn from those on the inside, worried that someone might get the chance to uncover their true nature; or worse, expose their unlawful ways of curing the prisoners. 

You were the only reporter to ever be invited onto the property, even if it was under special circumstances. 

“Truth be told, I was shocked to hear you called!” Director Samson confessed. His tone always rubbed you the wrong way, always coming off as far too exuberant for a man in charge of a psychiatric facility for criminals. “What’s it been, five months? Six, perhaps, since we last spoke?” 

“Seven.” You noted, sporting a rather sardonic smile. He didn’t seem to notice your ill-intent. 

“Well, either way, it had been far too long!” He chortled to himself, a chorus of keys clanking against his hip as he led you down another winding hallway. 

Fluorescent lights flickered overhead, illuminating the immaculate white linoleum beneath your feet. The smell of bleach was incredibly pungent, burning your nostrils with every breath you took. You did your best not to breathe at all. 

“You’ve been checking your email, yes?” Director Samson was a few long strides ahead of you, moving at a pace you couldn’t manage to keep up with. “When you stopped answering your cell, I decided to have my secretary begin forwarding you all of our notes from his treatment sessions. It’s pivotal that you’ve stayed up-to-date on his progress, especially if you finally plan on becoming an active role in his recovery!” 

You braced yourself for the tainted oxygen that would fill your lungs as you lied, “Of course. Even gave them a quick review on the ride over.” 

In the seven months that you had been dodging Samson’s calls, you had never once opened any of the emails from his secretary. You always saw them come through though, and you always found yourself staring at the subject line for just a moment too long. 

Patient #121394 - Progress Report 

It made you sick sometimes, the way he had been reduced to a number. Other times, you were thankful for it. It helped to create a divide in your head, allowing you to create some sort of separation between who he was and who he is. Harry Osborn was your friend. Patient #121394 stabbed you in the back. 

Regardless, you could never actually make yourself read them. But you also couldn’t bring yourself to delete them, stashing one-hundred and eighty-four daily progress reports from Ravencroft into a separate folder, out of sight but kept on hand, just in case you ever needed them. 

You weren’t sure why you ever would. 

“Good, good!” He chirped loudly, both of you now approaching a large armored door. It didn’t match the rest of the hallway, the rusted surface polluting the otherwise pure white space. 

Your attention was pulled away from it as Director Samson spun on his toe, index finger suddenly wagging in your face, your eyes growing wide as you tried to lean back a few inches. His nails were a touch overgrown, caked with a substance you didn’t recognize. Describing him as eccentric would be kind, although disconcerting fit him better. 

“You must promise me something before you speak with him!” He sputtered out. You did your best not to flinch as his saliva spewed onto your face. “I understand you may have felt a need to…” his head bobbed side to side, squinting as he considered his wording, “distance yourself from Mr Osborn. That is why I did my best to respect your need for space the past several months-” 

Ah yes–you thought to yourself, fighting the urge to laugh in his face–calling bi-weekly and sending daily emails is clearly a sign of respecting someone’s wish to be uninvolved. 

“But!” He shouted out, his rotten nails now close enough that you could smell whatever laid beneath them. “If you cross this threshold,” his hand moved to the large door behind him, offering you a chance to swallow back the bile building in your throat, “you cannot abandon him again, Ms. y/l/n. Progress is a volatile thing, especially for the damaged souls that call Ravencroft home. I need to know that you’re prepared to devote yourself to Mr. Osborn’s treatment.” 

Abandon him—the claim was enough to make your blood boil. You wanted to scream at him, remind him of what had happened that night, remind him that you were the one who had been abandoned. You wanted to turn around, to leave and never step foot in this cursed building ever again. 

If you did that, then maybe you could keep lying to yourself. Harry Osborn could remain your former friend, one of the few crumbs you had left of the life you so desperately wanted back. He could be innocent, and Patient #121394 could be the murderer. 

“Well Director Samson, I can assure you that I have absolutely no intentions to abandon him!” The mask you put on was sickly sweet, more than palatable enough to hide the animosity behind it. 

His bug-eyed stare remained locked onto you, unnerving and wild. “You must promise.” 

“Okay,” A sigh managed to slip out, quickly covered by your response, “I promise.” 

He instantly relaxed at the vow, easily returning to the childish ebullience he’d displayed previously. You wondered how he would react if he had noticed the hand behind your back, if he knew your fingers were crossed as you spoke. 

Abandonment was a much kinder fate than Harry Osborn deserved, so you were certain that if a higher power existed, they would forgive you for breaking your promise to Director Samson. 

Metal jingled about as he removed the keys from his belt loop, somehow knowing exactly which one to grab from the couple dozen crowded the thick ring they hung on. 

“Now, please, do your best to remember the rules!” He began unlocking the various deadbolts on the door. “All patients in the visitation area will be secured to his or her station, for your safety as well as theirs. Under no circumstances should you touch any of the patients. Should you notice a patient is acting out of sorts, please remain calm and notify the warden-” 

You already knew the do’s and don’ts of visiting prisoners, having interviewed several of the inhabitants at Ryker’s Island for the Bugle, and so you found yourself droning him out entirely, watching as he moved from one lock to another, until he finally reached the last one. 

“Most importantly, do not forget that this time is meant to inspire and encourage your loved ones to continue on their new path towards righteousness!” He displayed a toothy grin, cavity filled and displeasing. In return you offered a much less prominent smile. “And please, when you’re done with your chitter-chatter, come by my office. I would love to discuss next steps with you!” 

You gave a curt nod, aware that you would not be doing that. Interacting with Samson was enough to drain even the most extroverted people, which was one of the many reasons you’d stopped returning his calls only two months into Harry’s sentence. 

He viewed you as a valuable tool for curing Harry—mentally, at least. His actual disease was of little interest to Samson, his physical health naught in comparison to his damaged mind. Harry had no next of kin, which meant all of Samson’s hopes had been placed onto you. He believed in order to cure Harry’s mind, he needed the assistance of someone who was dear to him, someone to act as a tether to his sanity. 

Director Samson also believed that the venom Harry injected into his veins was the cause for his self-proclaimed insanity. This told you all you needed to know about the Director; he was clueless. 

You knew the truth. After all, you were the one that had fed his lawyers the story and loaded them up with all the evidence they’d need in order to paint a picture for the jury, illustrating Harry Osborn’s mental descent. It was you that had convinced them to make him swallow his pride and take the insanity plea—your final act of kindness towards Harry. 

The clunky metal door groaned profusely as Director Samson pushed it open, heavy enough that it required him to use both hands and the majority of his body weight. Once it was open, he bowed in a particularly odd manner, motioning you into the room with a dramatic flair that made you nauseous. More than anything in the world, you couldn’t wait to never see him again. 

The small space you walked into had distracted you from Samon’s bizarre attitude, immediately taking note of them in case you ever felt like breaching Samson’s trust and writing a story on Ravencroft. 

First–it didn’t share the same suffocating scent as the hallway, the smell of chemical cleaners having completely vanished. You took advantage of this, letting your chest expand with several deep breaths. Your nostrils no longer burned, however this came with a price, this room much grimier than the rest of the facility. It didn’t shock you. 

Second–there was nothing white in here, a stark contrast from the unsoiled appearance of the never ending hallway you took to get here. This room truly felt like a prison, despite Ravencroft’s insistence that they were far from that. Muted shades of chipped paint coated the walls, the floors nothing more than poured cement. 

And, finally, third–no one, and you truly meant absolutely no one, appeared as if they were on the road to recovery. 

To your left there was a red-headed girl chained to a metal bar fastened to the wall. A bit of drool dribbled down her chin, her eyelids drooping as if she had been drugged. On your right was a boy no older than nineteen, handcuffed to his chair and left with nothing to do except stare at the floor beneath his feet. 

They looked miserable, and you almost felt bad for sticking Harry in a place like this. 

Almost. 

Behind you the door shut with a crash, the symphony of locks clicking back into place. Your heart rate spiked as you realized you were now trapped in here with them, taking a glance at the warden. He was a burly man, yet the only weapon he had on him was a baton, lazily stuffed into his waistband. It only added to your growing apprehension. 

Anxiety, you reminded yourself through gritted teeth, is another thing reporters don’t have time for. 

Each second brought you closer to Sytsevich’s impending death, which meant you didn’t have time to waste on fear. But knowing that didn’t make it any easier, still feeling as if you were frozen in place, wishing that they hadn’t made you leave your bag in the main office. 

If Brant had managed to find a number for Peter then you could just skip this whole mess, go straight to the source and get hard proof that he was innocent… but it was too late to turn around now. 

You were already here. 

In the furthest corner of the room you saw a steel table, placed directly in front of the patient’s only source of natural light—an incredibly small window, armed with thick black bars. Your heart lurched as your gaze settled on the table's only occupant. Even with his back turned, you could still recognize him. 

Lifting just one foot had been the hardest part, terror pricking your bones as the single step caused one of the patients to whip their head around towards you. 

He was an enormous man, standing several inches over six feet with muscles that rivaled the Hulk. Fortunately, you didn’t hold his attention for long, hesitantly watching as he went back to staring at the old-style television set that had been stuffed in the corner. Static painted the screen, and every once in a while the large man would give a swift hit to its side, making the other patients flinch. The warden didn’t stop him. 

Each step after that was rushed, an attempt to get out of his line of sight. He was restrained, as were all of them, but he still filled you with a sense of unease. When you finally reached the table and quickly slipped into one of the metal chairs, eyes still darting about prudently, you heard the patient sitting across from you laugh. 

You had thought the terror seeping into your veins had been intolerable, but it was no match for the misplaced grief that fought to consume you at the sound of his voice. It simultaneously sent chills down your spine and relaxed every muscle in your body, a paradox of a reaction that only the living dead could possibly provide. 

“Aw, what’s wrong?” He drawled, leaving you hanging onto every syllable. “My new friends scare you?” 

A bit. 

“Hardly.” You snapped back a bit faster than intended. Beneath the table you clenched your fists, fingernails prodding into the soft flesh of your palms. 

Stay calm. Hide your weaknesses. 

You were disappointed with yourself, your inability to mask your discomfort, especially here. A penitentiary wasn’t the best place to rollover, and you knew that the moment you fucked up and showed your underbelly you’d be as good as dead. You needed to be better. You needed to be incomprehensible. 

“You look well.” You spoke again before he’d have the chance to beat you to it, determined to be the one holding the reins in this conversation. “I’m shocked.” 

It truly wasn’t meant as a slight though the scoff you received in response made it clear that he’d taken it as one. It was God’s honest truth though; you hadn’t expected him to look as good as he did. 

Last time you saw Harry Osborn was when the venom had already invaded his bloodstream, transforming him into something near unrecognizable. That was the Harry Osborn you had been expecting to see today. A nightmare, a killer, a monster. 

Instead, you found yourself looking directly into the cerulean gaze of a boy you had mourned for nearly a year. There were subtle differences; the natural dark pigment of his hair still hadn’t returned, leaving it a dusty shade of brown, and the disease that fought relentlessly to claim his life had spread, a scaly patch of skin taking over his cheek bone. 

But, for the most part, he looked like himself. He looked like Harry. 

And that simple fact was almost enough to break you. 

“Wow, less than a minute in and you’re already spitting out back-handed compliments.” Harry's mouth twitched into a smirk. “You sure know how to greet an old friend.” 

Was he antagonizing you on purpose? Or was he simply delusional? Either way, you only offered him a tight smile, “We’re not friends.” 

You had no way of knowing if your words actually had any effect on him. Having been raised in the limelight meant that Harry had years of practice in maintaining his composure, always working to maintain the Osborn image. You had never been good at reading Harry, and that’s how he liked it. Like most powerful men, he enjoyed keeping secrets. 

“Aren’t we though?” He countered, a swift tug at the reins, an effort to regain some semblance of control. 

Your jaw clenched. “Not anymore.” 

Harry leaned forward a touch, those menacing eyes glistening as his palms remained flat against the cold steel, secured there by thick cuffs. “You think I don’t know what you did? That I don’t know who fed my lawyers all that bullshit about childhood abuse and disease warping my mind?” 

That bullshit had saved his life. Forced the jury to see him as more than another twisted villain, coerced them into feeling some sort of sympathy for Harry. By no means was Ravencroft comparable the the fucking Four Seasons, but it was far better than the alternative. Without the insanity plea, Harry was on a quick path to Ryker’s Island—a place you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy. 

“You’re right. I gave them everything they needed to build your case.” There was no use in denying it. The recounts of the trauma his father had inflicted on him were too detailed, too intimate, and Harry knew only three people in this world had access to that information. Himself, you, and Norman; and the latter was already dead. “But not because we’re friends.” 

He cocked a brow at you, once again leaning back into the uncomfortable metal chair. “Then why bother?” 

“Because I’m not like you.” 

And you wholeheartedly believed that. Caring about him had nothing to do with your choice to try and spare his life, your decision to aid Gwen’s murderer. 

“A rich boy like you wouldn’t last a single day in Ryker’s. Those guys would’ve eaten you alive.” You asserted, the only physical sign of the anger coursing through you being your flared pupils. You were in control. “I had an opportunity to save your life, so I took it. Not because of friendship,” the word tasted acidic, burning as it rolled off your tongue, “but because I’m a good person—better than you ever were.” 

It wasn’t until you were done talking that you realized how desperate you had been for the declaration to cut him. You only recognized it afterwards, irritation flooding you as he remained perfectly still, seeming entirely unphased. 

Then after a moment of nothing, he sighed. Not out of annoyance, not out of sadness. Instead, it seemed to be out of pure boredom, which only made your irritation towards him grow. 

“Guess that means you’re not here to help with my treatment, huh?” He said it like a joke, as if he too thought he was incapable of redemption and found this whole thing to be a waste of time. “Samson’s gonna be so disappointed when he finds out.” 

“You’re right, I’m not here to help you.” you confirmed, sucking in a deep breath and biting back at your pride, “But you’re gonna help me.” 

His brows snapped up—a reaction, subtle, but there nonetheless. “And why would I do that? I mean, you already made it clear that we’re not friends. So why should I do anything for you?” 

“I’ll keep coming here. Participating in whatever stupid shit Samson has planned, keep acting like I wanna help you get better.” You sneered, eyes rolling. People like Harry Osborn were incapable of better. “There’s gotta be something for you to gain in all of that, right? Some sort of reward for making progress. If you’re lucky then maybe they’ll give you more playtime with your little buddies or something.” 

Your gaze flicked over his shoulder, once again landing on the enormous man that had noticed you earlier. He was still beating against the side of the television, the thumping of his palm against thick plastic echoing through the room. No one seemed to mind the noise. 

“Besides,” you continued while shifting your focus back to Harry, “you owe me.” 

He did owe you—him and Peter both—but pulling that card made you sound desperate, like you had truly run out of options and were now using everything left in your arsenal to sway him. 

But that was the point. 

It was a calculated move, entirely deliberate, right down to the doe-eyed glance you shamelessly flashed at him, feigning a moment of vulnerability. You hadn’t rolled over, hadn’t exposed your weak points, but you wanted him to believe you did. 

There were certain benefits that came with knowing Harry—who he used to be. You knew about his insatiable desire to be needed by someone, to feel wanted. There had been a time in which you wouldn’t have dared to exploit the trauma that desire stemmed from, but things were different now. 

Even when armed with his stoic mask, you could tell that you had hit your mark perfectly. He remained silent, considering your words. A rational part of him was likely screaming to tell you no, to send you out of Ravencroft without so much as a second glance. Odds were that he knew this was an attempt to manipulate him, to play at the side of his that ached to be essential to another. 

But Harry Osborn wasn’t known for making rational decisions. He was rarely driven to act by his near-genius level IQ, instead always finding himself a victim to the gnawing pain in his chest; and you were banking on that. 

Then, it happened. 

For a moment—mere seconds, at most—the mask slipped. A single muscle twitched in his jaw, his nose wrinkling the slightest touch. The shift in his demeanor was so subtle, yet so apparent to you. Having once been so close to him, you’d all but trained yourself to detect the moments in which his arrogance would melt into something far more innocent. You used to crave those moments; live for them, even. It felt like an honor to witness the side of Harry in which he fought to keep locked away, a side he tried to ignore. 

Now, though, you felt almost nothing. 

Harry finally let out a gruff sound, his tongue darting along his chapped bottom lip. “You’re here about Peter, aren’t you?” 

You were careful not to outwardly react. “You’ve seen the news?” 

“Of course.” He rolled his eyes in an exaggerated manner. “Not everyday the city hails Spider-Man a murderer.” 

He said the vigilante’s name like a curse, as if it were the dirtiest word he’s ever spoken. It was laced with a bone-chilling sense of contempt, one that only deepened your resentment towards Harry. You didn’t like it—the way he spoke as if he had a right to hate Peter. After everything Harry had done, after everything he’d taken—your nails dug deeper into your palms as you fought to keep your eyes peeled. terrified that if you so much as blinked you’d catch a glimpse of Harry’s sins. That you’d catch a glimpse of her.

“Are you gonna help or not?” You struggled to stay composed, his brows raised in amusement at the snipped statement. 

An unfortunate oversight in your plan had been in failing to acknowledge that Harry knew you just as well as you’d known him. It didn’t matter if you rolled over, because you were already exposed. He knew that Peter was a soft spot for you, that he had always been a soft spot, and all he had to do in order to push you over the edge was jab a little harder at that unhealed wound.

Surprisingly, he chose to leave it alone. 

“You’ll come four times a week. Minimum.” 

You fought the urge to grin at his demands, aware that it meant the rational side of him had lost. 

“Twice a week.” You countered.

“Make it three.” He almost sounded pitiful, coming off more like he was begging than demanding. It caught you off guard to hear him sound so desperate, and for a moment you wondered if he had turned the tables; if he was now manipulating you, playing on your emotions and trying to make you feel bad for the loneliness Ravencroft had inflicted upon him. 

But there was something about the look in his eyes, how transparent they suddenly seemed, that made you feel like this hadn’t been done with nefarious intent. His desperation was genuine, and you weren’t sure how to feel about that. 

“Fine.” You agreed, aware that you didn’t have time to negotiate with him all day. You had a story to write, and in order to create a solid defense for Spider-Man—for Peter, you’d need help. You’d need a culprit, someone that had a motive to kill Sytsevich. “Deal?” 

Harry grinned, that same arrogant and flashy sort of grin you’d seen him give heiresses and models. You always wanted to be on the receiving end of that smile, to be the one he was trying to win over, but now it only made your stomach sink. “How can I be of service?” 

“Do you know anyone who might want Sytsevich dead?” You decided to be blunt with the question, keeping your voice low. 

“Uh, yeah. Try the entire Soviet Union. From what I’ve heard, it sounds like he made a real fucking mess of things when he left Russia.” Harry noted. 

“O-kay,” you drawled, “what about locally? People talk in prison, yeah? If somebody was planning something you would’ve heard about it.” 

His nose scrunched up. “What do you think happens in prison? That we all just get together like it’s a slumber party and swap hit lists?” 

You didn’t bother responding, not verbally, at least. Instead, you opted for shooting him a sharp glare. It didn’t phase him. 

“Look,” he glanced towards the warden, scooting forwards a touch once he noticed the negligent guard had become distracted by his phone, “a guy like Sytsevich doesn’t go down without a good fight, alright? I saw the blueprints for that armor he wears, right before the board locked me out of Oscorp’s systems. I know what it’s capable of. Most people wouldn’t even have a chance to get a hit in, let alone send him to the hospital.” 

“Perfect,” you snapped, his eyes widening slightly, “if you know what his armor is capable of then you should know who would be strong enough to take him on.”

Harry scoffed at the simplicity of your deduction, “Yeah, I’ve got a pretty good idea, actually.” 

You gritted your teeth, aware of where he was heading. “It wasn’t Peter.” 

“How’re you so sure?” He asked you, a thin crease settling between his brows as he glowered at you. “I know you like to fixate on my fuck-ups in favor of avoiding his but you were there that night, y/n!” 

The banging sound of the prisoner’s palm colliding against the side of the thick television kept the guard from hearing Harry’s raised voice. 

“He wouldn’t kill Sytsevich.” You held firm in your beliefs, even as your gaze faltered and fell away from Harry’s, settling on the surface of the table. 

Bang. 

“He almost killed me!” His voice was consumed with bitterness, with pain. 

“And you killed her.” 

Was that truly a good defense? Had Harry’s sins somehow absolved Peter’s? A life for a life—the logic behind the sentiment was skewed and you didn’t want to think about it. You didn’t want to venture into the memories you’d fought so hard to block out. Your stomach suddenly became taut, unwilling to face the question you didn’t want answered. 

“You know what he’s capable of.” He pressed further, still leaned in close, as if trying to close the gap between you both, the shackles securing him to the table preventing him from doing just that. “Sytsevich was restrained with webs, y/n. Don’t be dense-”

Bang. 

“Peter isn’t a murderer, Har!” You hissed through your teeth—too overstimulated to notice the pet name slip from your mouth and too livid to care. 

He went to argue the statement when another bang sounded out against the side of the television, this one finally powerful enough to knock some life back into the formerly deceased device. Your eyes darted in it’s direction, Harry’s neck snapping around to do the same as you both listened to the hum of the static clear, a female voice breaking through. 

“-just moments ago we received word from the NYPD that former Russian mafia member Aleksei “the Rhino” Sytsevich passed away less than an hour ago. Sources from North General hospital confirmed that Sytsevich’s condition began to rapidly worsen, until he eventually gave in to the fatal wounds sustained in last night's mysterious assault.” 

The tautness in your stomach grew stronger, a wave of nausea settling over you as the organ began to tie itself in knots. 

“Chief Davis with the NYPD will be holding a press conference this afternoon, however officials have already confirmed that there is now an active warrant out calling for Spider-Man’s arrest. Individuals with any information on New York’s fallen hero are being asked to call the number displayed on the bottom of the screen, and police advise citizens to avoid their Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man at all costs-”

Harry twisted back around to face you, cautious and uncertain as he met your stare. He almost appeared concerned—not about the news, not about Peter, but about you. The corner of his mouth twitched downward, forced to watch as your face blanched, mind reeling. 

It’s not too late. There’s still a chance. He can still be proven innocent. A warrant doesn’t mean jackshit. 

The metal legs of your chair screeched against the ground as you pushed yourself back from the table, “I need to go.” 

Harry’s wrists pulled against the shackles that held him in place, instinctively reaching towards you, as if he’d nearly forgotten they were even there. “Wait!” 

Against your better judgment, you listened to him, though you weren’t entirely sure why. You needed to go. You need to contact the Bugle, needed to see if Brant had found a number for Peter. As much as you hated to admit it, Ravencroft had wound up being a deadend, and you needed to keep moving—but you just didn’t. You stayed, staring back at a boy you once knew, waiting for him. 

You always waited for them—Harry and Peter both. 

“You’re not-...” he hesitated, blinking and shaking his head as he debated whether or not he should even continue, if it would even make a difference. “You’re not going to see him, are you?” 

“Of course I am!” You ignored the groan that escaped his parted lips. “You’ve been fucking useless, so Peter is all I’ve got left. He didn’t kill Sytsevich, alright? But he was at the scene. He’s gotta have some idea as to who did this.” 

It was obvious that the offhand insult had stung, evident by the way he winced as you launched it at him. You nearly found yourself apologizing for it, but decided against it as you watched him quickly stiffen back up, always refusing to wear his pain so blatantly. Norman had trained him well, drilling into his head that weakness wasn’t a part of the Osborn way. 

“Don’t get involved.” 

Your stare narrowed. What he offered hadn’t been a recommendation, rather a demand. “They’ll hunt him down, Harry! If the police convince the entire city that Spider-Man’s a murderer? The city will turn into a fucking disaster. I’m not gonna let him go through that alone.” 

“You could get yourself killed!” Harry barked back, clearly indifferent to whether or not Peter suffered alone. You found yourself laughing in response, finding humor in his attempt to show concern for your life. 

“It’s Peter.” You stated plainly, devoid of any emotion as you rose to your feet. Harry’s head tilted upwards, following you with his eyes. “He wouldn’t let anything happen to me.” 

“Remind me again who saved you that night.” His jaw clenched, his tone turning callous as he decided to prod at the old wounds. “Cause it sure as hell wasn’t Spider-Man.” 

Your fists balled up tighter, blood beginning to seep from your palms and pooling beneath your nails. You zoned in on the stinging sensation, digging deeper into your flesh, using the pain as a tether to keep you from slipping too deep into your own subconscious. You didn’t have time to think about that night. You didn’t have fucking time. 

So you bottled up the thousands of thoughts running rampant in your head, biting your tongue instead of allowing yourself to spit anymore insults at him. He’s not worth it–you tried to tell yourself, starting towards the warden–it won’t change anything. 

“y/n!” He growled as you moved past him, electing to ignore him entirely. He thrust his arms against the shackles again, rattling the thick metal and grunting as they tightened around his wrists. You were just a little over a foot away when he spoke again, “Don’t fucking tell him you know!” 

You paused, suddenly feeling as if your feet had been cemented to the floor. You cursed yourself as you responded, refusing to look back at him. “What are you talking about?” 

“Have you talked to him since that night?” He asked. 

“No.” You chewed on your bottom lip, ignoring the abrupt pang in your chest. “I haven’t.” 

“Okay. Great. Then he doesn’t know for sure what you saw that night. That you saw him without the mask, that you know he’s Spider-Man.” He was talking uncharacteristically fast, as if he was worried you’d leave before he’d get the words out quick enough. “So don’t tell him.” 

You frowned, shifting to the side, now looking at him through your peripheral. “Why?” 

“Because.” Harry squeezed his eyes shut, fending off the growing headache that this situation had brought on. “As far as he knows, I’m his only loose end. The only one that knows who he really is.” 

Your chest tightened as you realized what was happening. Since walking into Ravencroft, you’d concerned yourself so heavily with keeping your guard up, with guarding your weakest points—only for Harry to be the one to rollover. He was exposing his hand, and you found it unsettling, especially when you realized that there was no selfish intent behind his words. 

Harry had nothing to lose in this situation. 

Except for you—his friend. 

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe he’s not a murderer. But if he did kill Sytsevich? Anyone who knows about Spider-Man’s secret identity is gonna have a huge fucking target on their back.” His eyes remained closed, drawing in a shaky breath before he continued, “So please,” his voice shook, desperation lacing each syllable, “just–don’t tell him, okay?” 

Goosebumps arose on your forearms, unable to hide from the fear that radiated off of him. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t find an ulterior motive for the statement. There was no clear sign of manipulation, no indication that he wanted to do anything other than protect you; and that made you feel sick. 

You had long since buried Harry Osborn, having told yourself countless times that two of your friends died that night. For two-hundred-and-seven days you had mourned both of them. 

With every fiber of your being you had believed that the arrogant boy that had weaseled his way into your life was gone, having been replaced with a malevolent monster. 

But now you could feel him.

It no longer felt as if you had just been staring at his corpse, but rather as if someone had actually breathed life back into him, offering you a glimpse of what still remained. 

It caused the tiniest spark of hope to ignite within you, a spark that you would do your damndest to extinguish. 

Harry Osborn was better off dead. 

“Our deal’s off.” You asserted, cold and uncaring. His eyes shot open again, a desolate expression washing over him. He didn’t try to conceal it, didn’t bother to adjust the mask he always wore. “You gave me absolutely nothing, so I’m not obligated to hold up my end.” 

Harry’s lips parted as if he were going to protest, as if he were going to do something—but nothing came out, and you hadn’t expected him to find the words, anyways. Try as you might, the three of you had never been capable of such candor; never willing to shine a light on the darkest corners of your minds, too scared of the risks that came with exposing what laid beneath the surface. 

You couldn’t help but think there was something poetic about it; the melancholy cord that bound you to Harry and Peter. How you were all fated to don matching wounds, but always be too afraid to admit to one another that you were bleeding. 

Sometimes you wanted to show them the stains on your hands, the red that you could never scrub off. You wondered if it would have made a difference, if maybe then the three of you could have bore the weight of it all together, rather than crumbling beneath the pressure. 

But none of that mattered anymore. 

None of you were the same anymore. 

And so you gritted your teeth and held your head high, letting the blood continue to collect under your nails, hiding it from his view. You took a heavy breath, your chest heaving beneath all of the pain you chose to carry. 

“Coming here was a mistake.” 

It was the only thing left to say, the only other admission you’d let slip past your lips. It hung in the air between the two of you, resonating with each of you in an entirely different manner, knowing that you’d never share your own interpretation with the other. 

Harry didn’t respond, choosing to drown in his silence, having grown used to watching people walk away from him. And you forced yourself to leave, choking on the remnants of your own grief; having grown used to abandoning what you once loved. 

a/n - ah, so it's definitely not june BUT i did post it finally! i've put a lot of time and effort into this fic cause i do just genuinely love the idea of it and it brings me a lot of joy lol. with that being said, it takes a ton of effort for me to write it because i'm putting in a lot of little details, so updates on this won't be the quickest, especially while i'm taking summer classes!! but i'll be doing my best! please feel free to leave comments, opinions, etc. and look forward to getting loads of peter content in the next part! also feel free to check out THIS if you want to see an edit of the newspaper headline!

#peter parker imagine #tasm imagine #harry osborn imagine #tasm fic #peter parker fic #peter parker #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman imagine #harry osborn #spiderman fic #peter parker x reader #mcu imagine #yandere peter parker #yandere spiderman #dark peter parker #the amazing spiderman #tasm2 #tasm fanfiction #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter x y/n #tasm peter parker #tasm!peter one shot #tasm harry osborn

[westernbaby]

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐫 (𝐒𝐮𝐛-𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐫)

[poc reader][woman reader] [This is quite rushed and I'm so sorry for that!] [I tried] [@yns-world ]

Namor is an ambitious person in all ways of life. He is knowledgeable of his power and how he will use it.

You were an inhabitant of what he calls the "surface world" when he first laid eyes on you. He has always been hostile towards full on humans but you weren't like the ones he saw all those years ago.

With his ability to visit the surface world, he'd come and visit you. Cradling your face in his hands and whispering sweet nothings.

One of the many things Namor adored about you was your effort to make him as comfortable as possible. Despite his title as a god and the ruler of Talocan.

You of course found the wings on his ankles a bit out of the ordinary but you never knew you were talking to the ruler of Talocan and a god, you didn't even know what Talocan was itself. Not until he eventually showed and told you.

Being the subject of the Feathered Serpent God's love comes with a whole other package. People from nearby villages would witness Namor's silhouette going towards another figure as if they were familiar with each other. And with that, rumors within their communities would spread.

As you saw throughout the movie, he's ambitious with his wants and his need to protect his people. Many would describe him as unhinged but he shows this side with good reason.

Nothing will stop Namor from causing almost unreasonable havoc on the livelihood of someone that caused you great pain, destroying the people around that person as well.

Just for great measure.

Being Namor's great love includes him telling you stories of the pain he's witnessed and caused. He'll also show you the artwork he's created on the walls of his cave, even showing you art he's created of you.

When the time comes for you to visit Talocan, which happens quite quickly, Namor wants to be as careful as he can with you.

You're human, incapable of breathing underneath the ocean let alone in the area as deep as where he and his people reside.

When you're taken to his home, you're provided with a suit in your favor. Namor leading you throughout every single curve of the cave with his hands on the harsh material of the suit.

When his people see you, they're shocked, obviously. But he talks to them with great reasoning as to why he brought you here. Eventually, they all warm up to you and your antics. They develop tendencies towards you aswell.

I mean, come on! Their ruler has intense urges to protect you and will do so in a second, it'll inevitably rub off on them.

Namor will find a way to have you be with him in Talocan at all times. Maybe trying to find the plant. Asking Shuri for assistance and if she can try and print a replica of it.

Namor is an incredibly loving man. It's shown with how he talks to those around him, with great care and urgency to figure out how they were hurt. He'll never let anyone that has caused you harm go free in any way.

You're blessed with the way he smiles at you as you awake in your shared bed, how he holds you, how he gently presses his forehead against yours.

You never expected this to happen but you would never turn a blind eye against how grateful you are for him.

If anything were to happen to you, he's quite obviously not against making every surface dweller suffer.

#namor x reader #namor #mcu namor #Namor Sub-Mariner #yandere mcu #yandere marvel #yandere marvel x reader #mcu x plus size reader #mcu x reader #mcu x you #mcu x y/n #Yandere Namor #marvel x y/n

[oreosmilkshakes]

Forever Mine

Pairing: Namor/K’uk’ulkan x reader

Fandom: Marvel- Black Panther Wakanda Forever

Word Count: 2,764

Warning(s): Dark Namor, !!there may be spoilers!!, violence, stalking behaviour, assault, kidnapping, dark ending

A/N: I hope I got the language Namor spoke correctly. I would be so disappointed if I didn’t :((. I watched BPWF recently and guess who I fell for               ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)? Also, cringy title, I know. Anyway, here is my contribution to Namor. Not my best work but here is another dark (I hope) fic by me. Happy reading!

Taglist: NIL

--------------------------------------------

The first time she saw him… it was close to midnight.

Her eyes had trouble seeing in the dark night, with the light emitting from her home giving no help. There was a dark silhouette standing under a tree, by the rocks where water would occasionally strike it. [Name]’s breath hitched, frozen on the spot. She really tried to make out the figure but he just stood there amongst the darkness.

“H-hello?” She called out to the figure, swallowing nervously. Her heart raced, feeling a drop of sweat trickling down her forehead. [Name] blinked, only to find the dark figure had seemingly disappeared into thin air. She felt goosebumps covering her skin, rubbing her arms quickly to try to calm herself.

[Name] tried looking out for the figure, even calling out. Perhaps the darkness had played tricks on her, shadows of the night that danced in the darkness. After all, the mind was a powerful tool. She ventured closer to where the figure was, noticing something glinting at her.

“Huh?” She tilted her head, kneeling down to dust the sand off the item. It winked at her. Under the pale moonlight, she could make out the item. It was a bracelet, made out of green jewels and a study fibre as its strings. Her fingers picked up the bracelet, dusting more sand off.

Did someone lose this? Perhaps it belonged to someone from the village. It certainly didn’t look like it had an owner. The jewel looked exotic and did not look like it belonged to this land.

Clutching the bracelet close, [Name] briskly made her way back home, making sure her windows and doors were locked. She couldn’t stop thinking of the haunting silhouette as she changed into her nightgown, the bracelet now left on the bedside table. A soft yawn escaped her lips, switching off the bedside lamp. She drifted off to sleep with nothing by the figure and the bracelet on her mind.

--------------------------------------------

The next time she saw him..it was close to noon, where the day was bright.

The sun was a comforting warmth as [Name] smoothed her sundress down. It had been a month since her unexpected encounter and she had forgotten about it with the brace around her wrist now. The very next day, she went to the village, asking around if the bracelet belonged to anyone but her actions were futile. The bracelet belonged to no one so she decided to wear it. It was a gorgeous piece of jewellery and it would be a shame to just leave it alone. [Name] hummed a soft tune to herself, broom in hand as she cleaned up her front porch of any dead leaves. She never regretted living alone, so far out in the country and so close to the water where it was always peaceful.

She stopped humming when she heard singing. The woman paused her chore, listening closely. Amidst the wind and the sound of the waves, someone was singing. She set the broom against the wall, leaving the comforts of her home to follow the source of the singing. It was like a trance, like magic. She couldn’t pull away from the trance even if she wanted to. She inched closer to the water, the soft, magical tune stopped and that’s when she saw him.

A man. A man with pointed ears, dressed in the most gorgeous pieces of jewellery she had ever seen and nothing but green shorts. He was tall, skin a beautiful tan, broad chest exposed for the world to see. Her jaw slacked as she studied the man from head to toe. He wore a calm expression but [Name] could see his eyes–oh, his eyes were dark and clouded. He took a step forward and she took a step back. “H-hello? Who are you?” Her voice trembled, betraying the brave look she tried to wear. The man’s expression changed, from calm to amused. He took another step forward again and she saw briefly..wings on his ankles as she took another step back.

“No. Stay away!” The woman yelped as he took another step and this time, he didn’t stop.

[Name] turned tail, running back to her home with her heart pounding against her chest. She slammed the door shut, looking through the blinds to see if the man had followed her. She waited and waited and waited.

Nothing.

He was definitely not human. She knew she lived in a world where aliens and gods existed but to have people dwelling in the water? That was something new altogether. [Name] didn’t hesitate, rushing to her laptop to research what she just saw. What a nightmare.

--------------------------------------------

The third time she met him..it was five to one at night.

Her research was fruitless. Nobody, seemingly no one, has ever seen a man with pointed ears or anyone dwelling in the waters. [Name] kept on thinking and thinking about him and it haunted her waking days.

Why did he show himself? Did he want something? Did he want to hurt her?

[Name] didn’t know. ‘If he wanted me dead, he could have done it several times over, now,’ She thought, sitting on the steps of her front porch. But, of course, that didn’t mean she could rule that thought out. A rustling sound pulled the woman out of her deep thoughts and a man stumbled towards the beach. He carried a bottle in his hand, his each step wobbled.

‘Oh good. A drunk near my home,’ She sighed and it caught the drunkard’s attention.

He grinned an ugly smile, raising the bottle at her. It looked empty.

“Hmm..what’s a pretty lady doing out here?” The man slurred, approaching the woman. She stood immediately, moving back as the man got closer and closer.

“Come on, little lady. Give me some entertainment?” He offered disgustingly and she almost gagged at that. He had a hand on her and the woman struggled. “No! Get off of me!” She shoved the man off, taking off towards the beach. The man struck his cheek against the pillar, groaning. “You little bitch! Get back here!” He growled, giving chase to the woman.

[Name] turned back as she ran, the drunk man was catching up to her. She screamed loudly when he tackled her, the bottle forgotten in the sand as his hands moved to her dress.

“A little fun won’t hurt,” The drunk cackled, gripping her dress tightly. Tears pricked her eyes as she struggled, fighting against the strength of the man but exhaustion was close to getting her. Both hands went to her face, protecting it from the man. He gave another ugly smile, the smell of alcohol was strong in her face. “That’s it. Just let it happen. It’ll be over soon eno-,” [Name] screamed, feeling something warm splattered all over her. Her body soon felt light, the weight of the man no longer on her as the man fell to the side with a soft ‘thud’. With shaking hands, she opened to look but her view was obscured as she was pulled into a warm, wet chest. A strong arm wrapped around her shoulder, keeping her very close.

“Don’t look,” The deep, accented voice instructed. [Name] wanted to fight, to push away but all she could do was cry in the man’s chest. She didn’t need to look to see who it was. The smell of salt was enough. She cried and sobbed, shaken by the incident. An arm moved under her knee and the other kept a firm, yet soft grip on her shoulder. The man picked her up, slowly walking back in the direction of his love’s seaside home. His ear twitched. His love was quiet as he got closer to her home and he could only conclude that she had fallen asleep in his arms.

Namor’s expression was dark, a calm anger behind his eyes. He set the woman down on her bed, tears covered her smooth cheek. He clenched his jaw, a boiling anger grew in his heart. He hated the surface dwellers and the drunk man was one example why.

How dare he hurt his love? The woman he had been watching ever since she moved into this seaside home.

Namor had grabbed a rag from the kitchen, cleaning the blood off [Name]’s skin. The pale orange dress she wore was ruined and the King made a mental note to replace it with something made by his people. His hands carefully peeled the dress, eyes darkening further at the bare sight before him.

His love was gorgeous.

His queen was worthy of his love.

Namor covered the woman with her blanket, a hand moving to her cheeks to wipe the tear stains away as he leaned down, warm lips brushing her ear.

“Mix máak teech yaan u mentik loob Ma'atech asab, in yaakunaj,” (No one will ever hurt you again, my love) Namor whispered, leaving the woman’s home. He discarded the dress, approaching the dead body. His grand spear stuck out of the human’s body, blood tainted the rich sand. He growled under his breath, gripping the spear. He ripped it out of the body, blood flowed down from the blade to the base of his weapon.

“Asqueroso,” The King spat, leaving the beach. He would have to request the aid of his soldiers to clean up the beach so as to not taint his love’s mind further.

[Name] woke with the bright sun shining on her eyelids. Her body felt heavy and tired, and the memory of last night was faint and a blur. She pushed her blanket off, noticing her bare form underneath it. The longer she stared at her bare skin, the more she began to remember. A loud gasp left her lips, scrambling out of her bed. She reached for her robe, slipping it on as she rushed out the front door.

What happened after the assault was a blur but she remembered the voice. The deep and comforting voice.

[Name] ran to the spot where the incident happened, expecting to find the police and locals surrounding the area but nothing. There was nothing. No people, no drunkard. Nothing. She swallowed, turning to return home. A part of her was afraid to even think about last night’s incident but another part of her sought comfort in the thought that the man had saved her.

The woman shut the door behind her, glancing to her sofa to find an orange piece of fabric. It was beautifully decorated and the material looked soft. She approached the fabric, holding it up. A dress, one to replace yesterday’s. A soft smile spread on her lips, holding the fabric close.

She would have to thank him the next time she saw the man.

--------------------------------------------

But the next time she met him, it was a whole month after that dreadful incident.

[Name] would wait for the man to appear, venturing towards the rocks where she first saw his silhouette or further into the beach with hopes of finding him. Everyday and everynight.

But nothing.

The man didn’t return.

[Name] thought the man had abandoned her, perhaps finding some other woman to be his muse.

Then one night, when the clock almost struck 12 once more, she saw him walking out of the water. The moon was bright that day, giving her a clear view of the man. Her lips parted, heart racing with anticipation as she slowly approached him. It was only then did she realise how much he towered over her. Saltwater coated his skin and she watched as he ran a hand through his wet hair.

“It’s you..,” [Name] began, swallowing as her eyes studied the man closely. His eyes wore the same darkness but it also carried some softness to it.

“Who are you? What are you? I-I cannot thank you enough for saving me. I-,” She stopped, forcing her tears back. Her head hung low, a hand moving to wipe her eyes quickly.

Namor moved a hand under her chin, lifting her head up slowly.

“My people call me K’uk’ulkan. Others who are not in favour, they call me Namor..,” He drifted off, thumb gently brushing her chin as he stared deep into the woman’s eyes.

“K’uk’ulkan,” She spoke, slowly and it sent tingles down the King’s spine. The way his name rolled off her tongue was like music to his ears. He brushed his thumb across her lower lip, humming lowly.

“I am the King of Talokan, my empire, my people. We reside beneath the Atlantic, away from the eyes of..surface dwellers,” She could hear the venom towards the end, flinching a little from the harshness. She brought a hand to his bicep, gently squeezing it in an attempt to comfort the King.

[Name] felt utmost grateful to the King and she inched closer to him.

“Thank you..for saving me. If it wasn’t for you, I..I refuse to think what would even happen if you hadn’t come,” She stopped, moving her head away to look at the distant sea. Namor moved his hands to her hips, gently gripping it. He leaned in, brushing his nose against her hair. “No one will ever hurt you again, mi amor. I will make sure of it,” He whispered lowly. [Name] rested her head against Namor’s chest momentarily, taking in his warmth in this cool night.

[Name] thought back on Namor’s words. It’s clear he didn’t exactly like humans. She knew how destructive they can be. But why her? Why did he not kill her? What makes her so special?

“Why me?” The woman pulled away, eyes meeting Namor’s.

“Hm?” He questioned.

“Why don’t you kill me? Why did you save me? It’s clear you don’t like humans but..but why me?” She asked, wetting her dry lips.

At this, Namor let out a low chuckle. His hand moved to the bracelet around her wrist, thumb brushing against the delicate skin.

“For so long, mi amor, I have watched you. I studied you and the very minute I saw you weren’t a threat, I knew I didn’t want to kill you. Yes, I have a certain hatred towards surface dwellers but it would be irrational of a King to not observe the good and bad aspects of the human race, wouldn’t it? My mother was once human and I accept that part of me,” Namor explained, his hand moving to brush a strand of hair behind the woman’s ear. Her cheeks flushed red and he could hear just how hard her heart was pounding in her chest.

“Do you know the reason why I saved you? Do you know the real reason why I watch you? Because I..,” Namor trailed off, both hands now gripping [Name]’s waist tightly. She winced, brows furrowed as she pushed slightly against the King.

“Because I want you for myself. To be mine and mine only. That filth touched you and I killed him for you. I killed him for you. I decorated my spear with his blood with one thing on my mind– that he hurt you and deserved to die,” [Name] saw his dark eyes, his tone was harsher and his grip was tight.

“L-Let go of me!” She pushed against the King but he refused to let her go.

“No. I will never let you go again. You are mine, [Name]. You are mine and mine only. I will make you my queen and you..you shall bear my child. I will make sure of that,” Namor growled, jaw clenched.

Behind, she could see blue-skinned creatures, dressed like warriors, walking out of the water. The larger male held in his hand a mask.

“No! No!” [Name] screamed, tears flowing down her cheeks as she fought against Namor’s hold. “Please, no! I don’t want this! I don’t want this!” She cried, her arms flailing about. Her fist collided with Namor’s jaw and the King’s head turnt to the side. Her teary eyes widened as Namor slowly turned back to her. Instead of anger, he smirked. Attuma handed his King the mask and he slowly brought it up to the woman’s mouth. [Name] struggled harder but whatever was emitting from the mask made her drowsy.

“No..please..Namor..,” The woman begged, eyes droopy. She slumped against Namor’s strong arm, the mask sitting snugly on her face.

“Sleep now, In yakunaj (my love),” Namor purred, picking the woman up in a bridal style. His lips brushed her forehead in a twisted, loving kiss as he walked towards the water with his soldiers.

“When you wake, everything will be so much better,”

“You are mine..forever,”

#marvel #marvel one shot #namor #namor x reader #black panther wakanda forever #black panther 2 #marvel x reader #namor x fem!reader #namor x you #namor x y/n #Yandere namor #Yandere namor x reader #Yandere namor x you #Yandere namor x y/n #namor imagine #namor one shot #tenoch huerta #mcu x reader

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"Happy Little Family" Prompt/Teaser Post:

Your heart ices over as you see him there - holding your baby. "No," you breathe.

"Look who it is!" he coos happily. He smiles at your terrified visage in the doorway and kisses June's head. "We missed you, Mommy."

"And then the knight took the princess away to his castle, and they lived happily ever after."

You're just outside the nursery when you hear his voice, and ice cold fear instantly floods your chest. You drop the laundry basket and run into the room, and there he is: seated in the chair you nurse from, reading one of the antique fairytale books that your mom gave at the shower, holding your baby.

"James," you breathe, horrified.

He's been smiling down at June, but now his face smooths out as he looks up at you. He isn't frowning or glaring, but you know him, and there's a storm behind those eyes that makes dread curl heavy in your stomach. "Hi Doll," he says quietly. "It's good to see you again."

Your heart pounds in your chest. You feel sick. One wrong move and who knows what he'll do. You take a cautious step forward, eyes searching James' body and anywhere nearby for a gun. You don't see one. You take another step. "James," you warn,

June makes a happy gurgle at seeing you, and James coos down at her, "Aw, yeah sweetie. I'm happy to see Mommy too."

Mommy. Hearing that word come out of his mouth, in a setting like this, is a nightmare you've woken from more than once. You lick your lips and hold out your arms, pleading, "James, please give her to me."

He acts like he hasn't even heard you, smiling and tapping June's body with one finger. "We were just reading a story. Little lady is gonna be a big reader one day, I bet. Gonna grow up to be real smart." His gaze slides back to you, with what you interpret as a world-of-hurt-coming-your-way look glimmering in his eyes. "A clever, tricky little kitty cat. Just like her Mommy."

📖"Daddy's Home"

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Tags: dark!Bucky, mafia/mob au, evil baby daddy, evil-ex, dubcon/noncon, threats and coercion, forced pregnancy, forced domestic "bliss", yandere

Summary: You thought you'd left behind the man who turned out to be more dangerous than you'd ever imagined. But one day he walks back into your life and reminds you that, come hell or high water, you're all going to be one happy. little. family.

Story Masterlist

@cjand10, @violetwinterwidow01

#bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes #mcu #marvel #fanfiction #fanfic #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes imagine #imagines #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x oc #kid fic #mob bucky barnes #mafia bucky barnes #enemies to lovers #dark fic #obsessive love #yandere #my polls #fanfic polls

[funnyexel]

delusional water king

“They’ll see you as my goddess.” Shaking your head, you back away from the man. 

“I’m not a goddess. I’m an experiment.” You show him the number on your lower back, accompanied by scars along the skin you displayed to him. Staring at your figure, he noticed the scars were pink in your dark skin, most likely scabbed up and picked away by the strong currents. Shoving your shirt down, you cross your arms over your stomach, looking down and away from him. 

“I am grateful that you saved me, I am but...I don’t want to destroy the beautiful city you helped build.” His eyes bore into you, even as you’re not looking, the chance of intimidation being too great. 

“I can’t control it, Namor.” The way his name moved off your tongue and into the air made him tispy, it echoed in the cave, bouncing off the walls. 

“You saw what I did. I killed so many people.” Glossy eyes stared up at the feathered serpent god. He squinted at you with a smirk playing at his lips, was he finally seeing the real, troubled you? Turning to the hole in the ground that leads to the endless body of water, you fully intend on leaving. 

“I’m sorry, if this is disrespectful to you. Please understand that everywhere I go destruction tends to follow.” 

“Go ahead.” He responds after listening to you, biting your lip and moving a hair from your face, you sigh. 

“I will disregard the disrespect. Only because it is coming from you, in reina.” Giving him a shy smile, you nod not quite understanding the last bits of what he said.

Standing off the edge where rock meets water, you step onto the liquid, turning to him and giving him a small wave. Submerging into the water, a small bubble tracing around your body that keeps air flowing while the water propels you through the small tunnels and out of Talokan. The feeling of guilt tugs at you for leaving your savior but the guilt of killing hundreds of people where you were held captive ate you alive. Reaching the surface, the bubble of air slowly deteriorates as you walk up to the sandy shore. Moments to dawn, you catch your breath as you walk away from the beach, taking one hesitant look back before disappearing into the dense forest. You needed time. Time to figure out your powers, time to find yourself and forgive yourself. It didn’t take long for you to forgive yourself for the unfortunate events at the hell hole, in the matter of days you thought and realized that losing your temper had to have been the best case scenario. 

You spent time in an abondoned hut alongside the oceanside. It was peaceful, the waves were a natural lullaby and helped with the unease of sleeping. Being self-efficent gave you the chance to fool around with your powers, learn what you can do without causing a catastrophe. Sitting elevated above the waves, you meditated and wondered if he would try to find you. 

“In reina.” You whispered opening your eyes, looking across the blue mirrors that connected with each wave, you could’ve sworn you heard someone say it before you.

Refraining from saying ‘hello’ or any of the sort. You’d rather not know if someone is here with you. Moving closer to the edge of the small cliff, you sway your hand in a circular motion, the waters pushing itself into a dance. Watching closely as the water formed a small cone shaped tornado that sunk to the bottom of the shallow floor. In this it showed, the particles of sand and small plants being swept into the current. Putting your hand in your lap, the mini tornado, slowed to a stop and transitioned back to the usual current of the ocean. Looking around your surroundings once more, you get up, dusting yourself off and go back to your hut.

If you could say something different to Namor, what would you say? Ask him what ‘in reina’ means or what he meant by ‘my goddess’. You were so shocked by what you’ve done prior that it didn’t register how handsome the man was, his tan skin, fit physique, raven hair and darkness that hides in his brown irises. A clear portrait of the man was painted onto the walls of your mind, and you were repeatedly looking at the painting, thinking of him after days of being alone. Laying down, you get comfortable on the floor bound cot, closing your eyes, your body relaxes on the soft surface.

“Y/n, in reina.” The voice deep, meaningful and close. Opening your eyes, your rest felt like it only lasted a split second. Looking around, you were surrounded by turquoise looming lights. The scenery definitely unfamiliar. Standing to your feet,

“Nib óolal, waal mía,” you turn to the sound of feet shuffling behind you and catch a glimpse of a blue skinned person leaving. Dark messy hair enters your view as you shake your head. Convinced that you’re hallucinating about this man, this dangerously attractive and hot man.

“What are you doing here?” You say in complete disbelief. A slight furrow in his brows as he gives you a small smile and honestly you could’ve dropped your panties for him right there. Wait what?

“I have changed my mind.” He reaches behind his neck, taking off one of his necklaces.

“Changed your mind?” You relay back to him in confusion, at this he smiles and nods.

“Can’t someone have a change of mind?” Your mind is fogged with confusion and its clearly displayed on your face.

“Yes, but I’m not following. I don’t understand what you're saying.” The small sounds his jewelry made as he rests them down on the nearest surface, echoes in the little pauses of silence.

“Am I not speaking english?” He asks as if you literally couldn’t understand. You realize he’s joking and chuckle.

“You are. I mean- ….What did you change your mind on?” You lose your train of thought mid sentence, his muscles suddenly having more definition now that its no longer covered by the many necklaces he wore.

His masculine stature compliments his collar bone and defined jaw thats hidden under a well kept beard. You need to get a hold of yourself, zoning out while observing his body and objectifying him when given the slightest chance. What would he do if he found out? Something bad you hope. Blinking yourself out the trance, bare chest is in your eyeshot. Looking up through your eyelashes, he’s already looking down.

“You.” Watching as his palm rests along your cheek, steadily tracing down your jaw and stopping by your chin.

All the while your breathing hitches, his thumb rubs along your lower lip. Most alarms are ringing in your head for you to stop but whats a simple kiss? Your hand slides up his waist, toned stomach and rests on his shoulder. His gaze shifting for a moment to your hand and back to you, by then you were already pushing yourself up. His lips pull you into a hypnosis of only wanting him, only wanting to kiss him, wanting to climb in his skin. His lips stray from yours to your cheek and neck in a rushed manner. His arm capturing you in an embrace to keep you from stumbling backward.

Your chest heaves excessively as you realize what you’re going to do. Failing to release you from his embrace, he guides you to a soft patch of the cave. It was odd, grassy and soft as he laid you down. The space made you wonder about the deep sea of unknown even more, if there’s possibility of healthy gardens thriving underwater, what other possibilities are there? Your hands glide over the greenery, feeling the cushiony plants and enjoying the pleasant sound it made as your hands moved through. All your senses were being satisfied, especially your eyes. The sight of him kneeling in front of you can make any women weak. He observes you and your fascination with the scene. His hands compliment your skin, when they stroke your thighs, goosebumps rising on your skin. Despite your body growing hotter and hotter with each passing moment. Leaning down, he kisses up to your core. Kisses alternating from right thigh to left thigh, your hips accidentally jerk once he’s two kisses away. His gaze shifts to you once more and he smiles. His dimples peaking through.

Your excitement is getting the best of you as he pulls your pants off, his finger tips gracing your lower stomach. Lowering his head to your core, you close your eyes and he kisses you. One long slow swipe of his tongue from your hole to your clit. His tongue teasingly licking at your clit, small and kitten like. You hum a moan, your hand hovering over your lips in upmost disbelief. Sucking on your folds like a starved man, he hooks his arms under your thighs and his hands grip at your thighs. Sweat beads down your forehead, mixing with a tear of pleasure. Finally opening your eyes, he is totally indulged in your pussy. Your shiny wetness on his cheeks, his head moving from side to side to make sure nothing is left untended to. A broken gasp leaves your chest when he nips at your clit sharply. Fanning yourself, you take in deep breaths at the realization that your body is overheating. You attempt to plead his name but his tongue slips in your hole at the right moment and touches your g-spot. Making you shriek.

“namor…” You mutter, breathing heavily. Your pussy squeezing his tongue and legs clenching on his head, demanding more. Shaking your head, your moans leave your throat in a struggle.

Cumming all over his cheeks and chin, he laps up the mess and unhooks his hands from your thighs. Your eyes follow his stature as he sits up. Your chest heaving up and down, he holds you in a compelling trance.

“What are you doing,” His voice dips in a jagged tone, warning you and stopping you in your tracks. You were scooting away from him.

“take me home, please.” You trembled as he shifted close.

You cross your ankles and shield yourself from him, “we can’t, namor please, listen to me.” He shakes his head, his playful manner gone.

“I hear you, but I won’t listen.” His hands uncross your ankles, opening your legs to him once more, “I’ll fuck you until you beg to stay with me.” You gasp, his hard-on rubbing against you as he raps your legs around his waist.

The waistband of his shorts gone and your eyes dart everywhere. This is what you want, it is, but this is one of those journeys that you can’t turn back from once you’ve begun.

“Look.” He commands your body with a word, this brings a soft smile to his lips.

“I deserve you. I knew I did when I first saw you,” he moans softly when he uses his fingers to part your soaked lips.

“I waited this long, can’t you give me something I deserve, hm?” His attention was on you, his tip moving between your lips and squishing around your come. You moan as nod to the man, cursing yourself at your wordless affirmations.

a/n: don't mind the title I'm just having fun at this point...and here's the translations cause I know some of y'all lazy asf

in reina - my queen

Nib óolal, waal mía - thank you, my child

more of my writing

#fanfiction #y/n #black fanfiction #smut #marvel smut #yandere #male yandere #marvel cinematic universe #yandere scenerio #yandere x reader #namor of talokan #namor x you #namor #mcu namor #namor fic #namor x reader #kukulkan #black panter wakanda forever

[our-destiny]

Not sure what to title this, but it's dark/yandere Bucky and a hint of pervert!Bucky. The ending is super rushed and as always this is super self indulgent and not well written <3 readers gender is not specified

Trigger warnings: Stalking, violence (not towards reader), killing, male masturbation, Buckys filthy thoughts, stealing, mention of reader masturbating, implied noncon at the end - if I missed anything please let me know

I am not responsible for the media you consume, read the warnings, minors dni

Want to read more of my work? Check out my Masterlist

Word count: 1378

. ☪︎* ☁︎. . * ✰ .· ☁︎ . *  ✯. ☪︎* ☁︎. . * ✰ .· ☁︎ .

Bucky, who's still getting used to the new world, the Winter Soldier progamming not quite gone yet, lost in this unfamiliar world until he meets you. He doesn't really understand social norms, so when he feels a need to protect you and be around you, he does just that.

He follows you around, not really trying to hide it, and stares at you openly from across the room.

He convinced Tony to put your room next to his (or changed rooms so he could be next to you idk) so he could always listen to you and make sure you're okay. He learns your schedule and follows it, always trailing behind you like your shadow.

In the morning he would let himself into your room. If you were still asleep he would sit and watch you, when you awoke and asked what the hell he was doing, he would just stare, saying nothing. After the first few times this happened you started locking your door at night, which did nothing because he would just break the lock. Though he stopped after Steve told him off for it, so now he just stands outside your door waiting for you. He'd wait for you to get ready before following walking with you to breakfast. When you sit down to eat he makes sure he's sitting next to you, kicking someone out of their seat if need be, and also makes sure no one else is sitting on the other side of you. When eating he still stares at you, only ever glancing away, almost as if you would disappear at any moment. He follows you around the rest of the day, joining you in the gym, following you when you go out to eat. He's always there, always watching.

When you go to your room, he leaves you be. Steve told him that you needed some privacy and alone time, so when you shut the door in his face he goes to his room next door. He's not too worried about you getting hurt since he can hear everything you're doing in there. If someone were to come over to your room, he would first lean against his door, listening to your conversation with them, holding his trusty gun ready to attack if they tried to hurt you. When they left he would calm down and open his door to check up on you, once he knows you're okay he'll go back into his room. However if you were to invite them into your room, he wouldn't allow that, immediately storming out of his room and into yours, ready to tell the other person to get the fuck out. You see he doesn't like leaving you alone, let alone leaving you alone with another person, he has to be next to you or at least have you in his sight. You can convince him to let them stay, as long as you also let him stay in your room to watch over you, but if you don't say anything he will demand they leave and will make it physical if he has to.

He doesn't like it when other people touch you or gets too close to you. After so long with Hydra he doesn't understand that touches can be friendly, anytime someone touches you he thinks they're out to hurt you. If anyone tries to touch you Bucky will stand between you two and glare at them until they either leave or back off. If someone does put their hand on you, even if it's just a friendly pat on the back, he'll almost break their wrist while getting them off of you.

Bucky does give you some personal space depending on where you are. If you're in a room that's not very crowded then he'll be further away, but if you're at a party or something else where there's a lot of people, he'll stand really close to you. Your back will be pressed against his chest and you can feel him breathing down your neck, you might as well be sitting in his lap because he's so close.

He doesn't talk much, either. Or at all actually. If he does speak it's probably to tell someone to go away or stop touching you. But he likes listening to you. Anything you say to him, or just say in general, he'll remember even if it seems like he's not listening.

He almost thinks of you as his handler. Like you own him or control him, or like he has some sort of duty to protect you and follow your commands. If you mention that someone was annoying you today, that night while you're sleeping he'll go and kill them for you. Bucky won't follow out every command you give him, there's stuff he won't budge on when it comes to your safety. Such as he won't stop following you, and he won't let anyone touch you. You could trick him to leave you alone if you tell him to wait somewhere and then make a run for it, but after a few minutes he'll start to worry that you're in danger and go find you. And he will find you, he's trained to track people down so you won't be away from him for long. Your safety comes above everything for him, including your word, so he won't let people touch you. No matter what you say. If someone tries to touch you, you can talk him out of hurting them or killing them, by just telling him to leave it be but he still won't let them lay a hand on you.

He's not completely honest with you. There's some stuff you don't know about, like how he kills anyone he deems a threat, and how he comes into your room at night, picks the lock if he has to, just to watch you sleep, and hear you breathe. There's something about how peaceful you look, how unaware you are when you sleep that he can't get enough of. Maybe it's just that he likes seeing you safe and comfortable, maybe he just likes the idea of him having your life in his hands, the choice of whether to be your protector or your abuser. Maybe he's just happy that he found a reason to live now, a person to take care of. Either way he sits and watches you sleep, like a loyal guard dog.

You also don't know how much of a pervert Bucky is. How he lets himself into your room when you're not there, lays on your bed, getting lost in your scent. He can't help but touch himself, to grind against the mattress imagining it was you underneath him, you he was thrusting his cock into, cuming on your sheets leaving a sticky residue. He pokes around and steals a few things to add to his collection, finding your underwear drawer and jerking off again with a pair pressed against his nose before stealing a few to use later. He's so horny for you whenever he's alone he can't stop thinking about your body, he cums at least five times a day now because of you. When he wakes up he immediately rubs one out, in the shower, when he goes to bed, anytime he's alone. Remember how I said he can hear everything you do when you're in your room? He can hear you masturbate, and touches himself to the sound of you, talking to you as if you could hear him. It takes all of his will power not to just take you whenever he pleases, he thinks about it though. When he watches you while you're asleep he thinks about just having a little taste, wondering if you'd wake up if he were to slip his cock into you. When you're in the gym he thinks about pulling down your workout pants and fucking you, doesn't matter if anyone else is there. When you eat breakfast he imagines fucking your face. He's just so horny for you.

Eventually he snaps, kidnapping you and locking you away in a cabin far into the woods, finally able to act out all of his desires and keep you safe by his side <3

. ☪︎* ☁︎. . * ✰ .· ☁︎ . *  ✯. ☪︎* ☁︎. . * ✰ .· ☁︎ .

Reblog to give me motivation to write more shit <33

#dark bucky barnes #yandere bucky x reader #yandere bucky barnes #yandere bucky #bucky barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky imagine #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark bucky x you #yandere marvel #yandere mcu #dark marvel #dark mcu #bucky smut #yandere!bucky

[yanderemcu]

Yandere Bucky Barnes Alphabet

A=Affection (How do they show their love for you) 

Cuddling,hand holding, kissing,hugging, hair playing,arm over shoulder

B=Bound (How much do they share with you) 

Hes not that open with most people but with you he told you everything once you fully love him back

C=Cruel (How do they punish you) 

Spanking,holding you with his metal arm,silent treatment

D-Desire (How long until they take you) 

8 months

E=Even (To what level are they dominant) 

Same level as you

F=Future(What are their future plans for the two of you) 

Get married and have a cat

G=Gifts (What do they give you) 

Old stuff,CDS,clothes,sweets,blankets,flowers,stuff animals

H=Hell (Worst experience with them) 

His angry moments, his nightmares,his punishments, when he's Winter Solider

I=Insane (How insane did they get because of you) 

9/10

J=Jealous(How easily do they get jealous) 

Very easily. Glares at anyone near you besides Steve

K=Killing (How do they handle killing) 

Uses his metal arm. Becomes the Winter Soldier

L=Language (What is their love language) 

All of them

M=Manipulation(What could you do to get your way) 

Show him affection, be nice to him or comfort him after a nightmare

N=No (To what strength would they go for you) 

He'd do anything for you

O=Obsessed (How obsessed are they with you) 

10/10

P=Pet names(What do they call you)  

Doll,doll face,hunny bun,baby,angel face,beautiful, Darling,dove,kitten

Q=Quit (How would they act if you died) 

Stays alone,broken. Doesn't talk to anyone

R=Runaway (What are your chances to get away) 

He'd be heartbroken and promise himself that he'd find you again

S=Stalking (How good are they at stalking you) 

8/10

T=Type  (What type of yandere are they) 

Jealous,Possessive, stalker,Obsessive, clingy,sweet,caring, Overprotective

U=Unique (Different from other yanderes) 

He's a bit old fashioned

V=Vine (How would they feel if you fought back) 

He'd hate himself and blame himself

W=Will (Would they do anything against their loves will) 

No

X=X-Ray (How much do they keep hidden from you) 

A little bit. His past,Hydra and Winter Soldier

Y=Yearning (How much do they want you) 

4/10

Z=Zzz (How do you two fall asleep together) 

Holds you with his metal arm

#yandere #yandere bucky barnes #yandere marvel #yandere mcu #yandere boy #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #winter soldier #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #marvel #mcu #sebastian stan

[lifespectator]

Y/n, seductively: I’ve always had the dream of getting kidnapped by a pretty green eyed witch

Wanda, smirking: I can make that dream come true

Natasha, smacking the table: Just date each other already!

#wanda maximoff #wanda x y/n #wanda maximov #yandere wanda maximoff #mommy wanda #wanda mcu #wanda my beloved #gn reader #wanda maximoff x reader #incorrect mcu quotes #scarlet witch #incorrect marvel quotes #natasha romanoff #wanda marvel #scarlet witch x reader #mcu #marvel #y/n

[lokisbiiiitch1993]

Yandere Loki Headcanons

•Manipulative -makes you feel like he is the only one who loves you and cares for you

tells you he is the only one you will ever need .

•Very protective,jealous and possessive No one is allowed to talk to you or touch you

•He wants to know everything:

what are you doing

where are you going

•He gets very clingy : Love , don't leave me alone i will get lonely without you.

•Would give you the world : Tell me what you want and it's yours,my Love

•if you hurt yourself - like cutting yourself with a knife during cooking - he would remove all the knives and would say things like: Darling, you don't need to cook anymore, you are too clumsy,i don't want you to get hurt.

•He wants your Attention all the time

• would do anything to make you happy but don't be fooled you can't escape him , never

My Masterlist

#yandere loki #loki yandere #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #mcu loki #loki marvel #loki imagine #loki #loki x reader #loki x y/n #marvel #mcu #loki x you #loki x female reader #loki laufeyson x reader #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #mcu x reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel mcu

[black-aurora-nora]

Irreplaceable | Yandere!Avengers x Reader

You tediously dusted off the empty bookshelf spaces, balancing on a sliding ladder.

Once you were happy with your work, you slid to the next bookshelf, dusting the vacant area as you hummed along with a song that was playing through a speaker at the front of your library.

Just as you were about to slide to the next bookshelf, something jerked it to a stop and you glanced down.

"Don't fall now." Blue eyes stared back into yours and you smiled.

"Hey, Steve, I didn't hear you come in." You greeted happily, climbing down to hug him.

He gladly returned the hug, "So, did you get my text? You never responded."

You paused, gasping when you suddenly remembered, "Oh, yeah, you did message me.". A sad smile appeared on your lips, "I'm sorry, Steve, I can't. You know I'm busy with this place."

His eyes squinted ever so slightly, a tight smile on his face, "But you're always busy with this place. You deserve one night out to have fun."

You shrugged, "Taking care of these books is fun, Steve. And besides, I can't just take a break. My parents passed this place down to me as a trusted protector of the knowledge that resides in each of these books," You explained for the umpteenth time. This library was a huge honor and responsibility for you, it only made sense that you took it so seriously.

Steve sighed, "I know, I know. You're right. I'm sorry for pressuring you."

"It's fine, Steve. Look, if everyone wants to hang out, we could always hang out here in the library and..." You trailed off, looking through your schedule on your phone for next week, "I should be free next Thursday if I can get a family member down here to watch the books."

Steve visibly brightened at that, "That'll work! I'll make sure to text everyone."

That Thursday, you were invited for a night of hanging out at the Avengers Tower. Thankfully, you were able to get a cousin to watch the books for you while you took a break.

When the elevator doors opened, you were met with only smiles.

Everyone was here. Tony, Steve, Clint, Natasha, Bruce, even Thor; which you were actually surprised about.

"Ah, the bibliophile graces us with their presence." Tony announced, a drink already in his hand.

"It's nice to see you too, Tony." You chuckled.

Once all the formalities were out of the way, you all got to eating dinner. As you chatted, the subject of your library quickly came to light, much to your annoyance.

"So, (Y/N)," Bruce started, "How's the library?"

"Great." You answered, short and simple.

He nodded at that, glancing towards everyone else and then back at you, "Does it ever get boring? Are you happy, I mean?"

You frowned slightly at how he worded his question and shrugged nonchalantly, "Yeah, I love keeping the library. It's quiet, sure, but I've always loved the quiet."

Your answer was honest, as always, but none of them seemed to be happy with it. It was almost like they wanted you to not be happy with where you were in your life.

"Really? You don't want a bigger room at least?"

You lived in a one-room space that was converted into a bedroom above the very library that was handed down to you. It was ridiculously small, but you loved how cozy it was.

"No, I'm fine with the space." Wanting to change the subject you quickly asked, "Anyone down for a nightly stroll through the park?"

No one said anything. You were only met with strange silence and disappointed stares. It appeared that they didn’t want you to change the subject.

"Why is everyone being so awkward towards me?" You decided to ask directly.

No one said anything at first and you glanced at each of them. What had you done to make them feel this way towards you?

Tony threw his hands in the air, "I can't do this anymore." He stared right at you, "(Y/N), why won't you live here at the tower with us?"

You closed your eyes with a long, tired sigh, "Tony, please don't bring this back up-"

"Why not? What's stopping your from living here?" Natasha butted in.

"You've discussed this with everyone else too?" You asked Tony, clearly unimpressed with his actions.

"Well, yeah. They live here too, had to make sure they were cool with it." You didn't like how he was speaking as if you'd accepted his offer. As if you hadn't told him no in the past when he'd asked you about living in the tower.

At the questioning gazes piercing your soul, you decided you'd had enough and stood up.

"Let me explain this to you all; I have no interest in living here at the tower. I want to stay at the library and keep the books as my family has done for many, many generations. Do not ask me about living at the tower anymore."

Tony crossed his arms, "So you'll choose a bunch of dusty books over us?"

"Tony!" Steve scolded, but it didn't look like he cared.

"People would kill to live here, (Y/N), and you want to sit in some tiny library filled with books that hold little value? I mean, you look stupid!" He argued harshly and you gaped at him.

How could he say such things?

"I’m not choosing over anything or anyone. Those books may not mean anything to you, but they mean everything to me, asshole. And if this is what you think of something that's special to me, then we can't be friends." You snapped at the rest of them, "And you guys are assholes for not respecting my choices!"

"Young (Y/N), we are only looking out for you-"

You let out a long groan, "If you aren't going to listen to me and respect my wishes, I'm leaving." You declared, promptly walking away from the table and to the elevators.

"(Y/N)-" Clint started to follow you but Tony stopped him.

"No, no, just let her go." You heard Tony say.

Just as the elevator doors closed, you froze at what Tony said next.

"She'll be back."

When you got home and went to bed, you didn't sleep too well.

What Tony had said and how everyone else had reacted didn't sit right with you.

None of them made any effort to correct Tony except Steve and even his attempt seemed half-assed.

Why did they want you to live at the tower so badly? Why couldn't they just respect that you were happy where you were? That these books were more than just books? As if you couldn't possibly know what you really wanted?

For the whole year that you'd known each other, you never told them that you yearned for the lavish life. Hell, you never once complained about having to be the new bookkeeper for your family's library. Sure, you had bad days, but who didn't have bad days?

Deciding to try and put the past behind you, you rolled over and fell asleep.

_______________________________________________

A pounding knock from your library's front door jolted you from your deep slumber.

You clambered out of bed and went to your small window, peaking through the blinds to see multiple SHIELD vehicles parked outside in no particular order.

There were dozens of men and women, all dressed in agent uniforms, standing outside the vehicles or sitting inside them, waiting.

You quickly made your way downstairs to your library and unlocked the front doors.

"Phil Coulson, I work with SHIELD and we've received numerous tips that your library is holding confidential and dangerous information for HYDRA." The man, Phil, introduced professionally. "SHIELD has now taken custody of your books for further investigation into the matter."

"Wait, what?!" You exclaimed, "You can't just-just take my books! These books have been passed down through several generations!" You tried to explain.

Two agents stepped up, "Please step aside, (Y/N), you don't have ownership of this library anymore and are thereby trespassing."

"I..." You trailed off, watching as numerous agents shuffled into your library and began to shove your precious books into duffle bags. "Stop! I don't have any HYDRA info! Please put the books back!" You cried.

Just as the two agents from before were about to grab you, a familiar voice stopped them in their action.

"Hold on, we've got them!"

Steve and Clint quickly came up, worried eyes and all. But despite the worry, there was a small glint of guilt that you quickly picked up on.

And then everything clicked as soon as you picked up on it.

"You motherfuckers!" You screamed harshly, stepping right up to them with an ugly glare. "Where the fuck is Tony? Tell him to give me my fucking library back! Right now!" You knew that he had something to do with this.

Steve held his hands up carefully, "(Y/N), Tony doesn't have command over SHIELD. Why don't you come with us to cool down?" He offered gently, Clint nodded along.

You didn't move, eyes flicking between the two, "I'm not going anywhere with you guys. I want my library back!"

Clint stepped up, "We can't do that. It would just be best if you came back to the tower with us. We can take care of you now since you don't have really have a place to stay anymore." There was a strange, inappropriately placed happiness in his voice when he said that.

You paused.

Your lips trembled and your eyes began to water.

You could feel your throat getting tight.

Steve was quick to try and give you comfort, but you slapped his hand away as if it burned.

"Get away from me! You guys ruined everything!" You sobbed.

The sorrow you felt was far too painful. It didn't couple well with the anger that was bubbling inside you.

And that definitely didn't mix well with the sight of your precious books being taken out by the duffel bag and stuffed into black cars.

You'd had to prove yourself for years before your parents finally deemed you worthy of being the next protector of the library. You'd never be able to face them now.

In a matter of 12 hours, you lost something incredibly important to you.

All because of your ex-friends who failed to understand that you had your own life and responsibilities.

Something in you broke and you lunged at whoever was standing closest to you, which happened to be Steve.

You fought and screamed with all your might, not caring or noticing that your hits and scratches did little to nothing to Steve’s seemingly impenetrable skin.

And though you weren’t doing anything to him physically, it did seem that he was bothered by you attacking him in such an angry manner.

“(Y/N), (Y/N)-please calm dow-it’s okay!” He gripped you arms to your body to hold you still, barely caring as you kicked and thrashed and cursed in teary frustration, “We’ve got you now, you’re okay.”

You weren’t listening anymore. You couldn’t hear anything other than your own sobbing.

Your life was ruined.

“Steve, I don’t think she’s gonna calm down. I’ll just signal Natasha.” Clint said, muttering something to his earpiece.

You were held as still as possible and felt a small sting in your neck.

It wasn’t long before your thrashing slowed to a stop and your vision went black.

#yandere #marvel #marvel mcu #the avengers #yandere avengers #yandere scenario #tony stark #captain america #thor odinson #hawkeye #black widow #yandere x y/n #yandere x reader

[multifariousqueer]

Yandere Miles Morales( 42 & 1610) headcannons

A/n: Okay, so I’ve been thinking about it a lot and I was wondering, if the Miles’ were yanderes, which ones would they be?? So, here are my headcannons/Drabbles on the Miles as yanderes

Warnings: Yandere behavior, toxicity, stalking, possessiveness, manipulation,

Miles Morales(1610)

Our miles is definitely the stalker/manipulative Yandere

When Miles found out where your dorm was, it was over for you.

He would come by your house every night and watch you sleep before and after going on patrol

Memorized your entire schedule and your dorm location before you two actually met because he was so infatuated with you

I feel like this man says that y’all are gonna get married even before y’all start talking. Like he’s telling Ganke that you two are gonna get married

“Dude, does she even know you exist”

“Yes. She glanced my way and she was wearing Jordan’s identical to mine”

“That doesn’t mean anything man”

It means everything to him

When y’all do start talking, he moves really quickly. Like he’s holding your hand on the first date and calling you his girlfriend on the third

You mostly got with him because you felt bad but he manipulates you into having feelings for him

He’s very persuasive tbh

He makes a good impression on your family and everyone is convinced that y’all are going to get married

When he reveals himself as Spider-Man, all hope is out the window of being safe

It doesn’t matter what you say or do, In his mind, you two are in love and you’re gonna be together forever

If you give him an inch, he’ll take a mile.

Will try to separate you from your family and friends

Will start dressing you up like a doll

If you try to fight back, he’ll just say “calmate Mami. It’s okay, I’m here and we’re gonna be together and have kids and we can wear matching clothes and everything will be okay”

If you disagree with something, he’ll just say, “it’s fine, I just thought you loved me” and will make you feel like shit for not going with his flow

If you go crazy enough on him, he will just web you up and kiss you until you calm down

Earth 42! Miles

Earth 42! Miles is the possessive/ crazy Yandere

Will just not let you leave the house alone and he will not let you go anywhere

If you end up in his dimension and you look like his s/o that died, forget it.

This man is not above kidnapping. Like Yk that box from You that Joe kept Beck in? Yeah, he’d build that for you

“Where do you think you’re going, Mami?”

Will not let you wear your own clothes, especially in public

He would spoil you and use it as leverage

“You think that cabròn would buy you that, hm? Nah princesa, I do that. I take care of you”

He forces you to be dependent upon him

“Oh, princess you need something, hm? You need food? You’re hungry? Let me get you some food”

This man has prowler advantages. Like he could kill anyone and no one would know but you

Will give you everything you want but it always comes with a price

“I’ll get you that necklace, mi amor if you promise me that you’ll stop listening to your friends and family’s opinions about me” “sì Papi”

Has a tracker on you at all times in the off chance he lets you leave

Hates your friends and family because they don’t like him

Will isolate you from everything and everyone you know until you’re nothing but his piece of clay, ready for his moulding

This man would kill anyone that came too close to you

Yeah lmk if there’s any that I missed 🩷

Divider- @firefly-graphics

#mcu fanfiction #miles morales #miles morales x reader #miles morales x y/n #miles morales headcannons #miles x reader #across the spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #spiderman #across the spiderverse spoilers #earth42!miles #earth 42 #earth 42 miles morales x reader #yandere miles morales #prowler!miles #spiderman into the spiderverse #into the spider verse #spiderverse spoilers #Spider-Man!miles #i need him inside me #i need him #marvel #spider verse #marry me #for you #the prowler #e42 miles #miles!prowler #miles morales fanfiction #miles!spiderman

[spider-stark]

A DARK AGE - PREVIEW

a tasm fan fiction // coming june 2023 // click here to read notes

“Spider-Man’s not a murderer.” You weren’t entirely sure who you were attempting to convince with the statement; Jameson or yourself.

Jameson’s shoulders lifted into a lazy shrug, leaning back in the rickety chair. You knew his opinion on Spider-Man, knew his stance on the matter. Still, even he knew that Spider-Man had never crossed that line before. “No, he isn’t.” He agreed with you. “But he’s about to be. He’s the only one that can be linked to the crime scene. If Sytsevich dies—and it’s only a matter of time—then Spider-Man’s the one who goes down for it.”

Your mind was reeling, gaze falling to the floor. Coffee still leaked from your cup, causing the already prominent stain to grow in size, but you didn’t care.

New York had already begun to turn on Spider-Man. The city that he had saved time and time again had grown to hate him, unable to forgive him for abandoning them entirely, for leaving them to wonder if their beloved hero was even still alive. And to come back like this? To come back a murderer?

“It’ll turn into a man-hunt.”

There was no other outcome for it, both of you knew that much. There was already an eerie sense of unrest that had settled amongst the city in Spider-Man’s absence; and if it was confirmed that their former symbol of hope had abandoned his own code of ethics? The world would turn to nothing but chaos.

It would be the dawn of a new age.

A dark age.

bonus teaser scene - peter parker dialogue from A Dark Age

#dark!peter parker #tasm peter parker imagine #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #spiderman imagine #dark!spiderman #yandere spiderman #yandere peter parker #mcu imagine #harry osborn imagine #tasm harry osborn #tasmedit #peter parker fic #spiderman fanfiction #peter parker x y/n #spiderman fic #andrew!peter fluff #andrew!peter fan fiction #andrew!peter smut #peter parker smut #marvel mcu #marvel x reader #marvel

[sleepyems-15]

yandere moon Knight X reader

(this story from my wattpad account)

Characters: Marc Spector, Steven grant and you

You were just sleeping in your home, it was around 2:23 am. you got startled awake by glass smashed. You got up from your bed creeping to your door to open to see something.

You felt a cold breeze let in. You listened quietly to hear if you can hear any footsteps , you didn't hear anything so you went back to bed.When you turned around you saw a figure in a white suit. You got pretty scared, I mean who wouldn't you were half a sleep and a man in a white suit is in your house in the middle of the night.

"Hey sweets don't be scared, I'm not going to hurt you" he whispered, he had an American accent trying to make you feel better. It just made it worse, if he's not here to hurt you why was he here?."Why are you here? Please get out my house" you told him. the man came closer to you "just relax ok, just relax" in a just a moment he was behind injecting something into your neck.You pushed him off making you fall.

You started to panic" what..what did you inject me thing?" You asked. He didn't reply, it took you 2 minutes to go to sleep.When you woke up. Your head hurted and your legs were numb, when you looked to the side of you, you saw the same man from your bedroom.

You wanted to move but you body was to weak. "Shh calm down love, told you that you were going to scare them" the man had an British accent. You thought he had an American accent but you could have just made it up in your head."Where am..I?" You managed to say. "Your in our room, we didn't have a spare room so we had use our room for you to sleep in" he said "why do you keep saying 'we'?" You asked.

"Well we have d.i.d, my name Steven and the person who kidnapped you was Marc, we have someone else but hopefully you don't have to meet him." He told. "Marc says sorry for drugging you and scaring you" he softly smiled.You closed your eyes having a tear fall down.

"Don't cry love, we're here for you now"I

#moon knight #jake lockley #marc spector #steven grant #moon knight x reader #steven grant x y/n #marc spector x reader #yandere x you #mcu fanfiction #yandere mcu #mcu x reader #oscar issac x reader #oscar issac