This is mostly a yandere blog, so it would be inaccurate to say I only write SFW. That being said, I will not write any explicit sexual content (at least for the moment).
I prefer softer yanderes, and I likely wonât write more violent/abusive requests.
I will not write anything related to pregnancy.
I work a full time job and also have a life outside Tumblr, so I may take a while to write a request.
Fandoms I Will Write For
Moon Knight!!!
Daredevil!!!
MCU (especially Thunderbolts* & earlier Avengers)
Spider-Man (any live action movie + maybe comics) & Spiderverse (movies + comics)
X-Men
The Batman (2022)
DC
CARRD
vo1d_bunny's carrd
Credit:
Moon Divider by @strangergraphics
Daredevil Divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more
Spider-Man Divider by @sister-lucifer
X-Men, Superman, & Batman Dividers by @saradika-graphics
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A/N: Iâm back with yet another extremely niche pull. I love the idea of Maddie meeting reader and being like: âyou are my baby now. This is totally justified because I just lost my other baby.â
CW: Kidnapping, Obsession, General Yandere Things
The worst part about being a mutant, in your opinion, is that you can never stop being a mutant. You can never pause your mutation or take a break or have even one singular moment to yourself. Since the moment your empathic mutation first presented itself, youâve been buried under the emotions of other people. All of their love and hate and sadness flood your body, drowning you in their endless waves.
The only thing that has ever made your mutation slightly tolerable is isolation, but despite your best efforts, youâre unable to avoid people entirely. You still need food. Which is why youâre currently standing in the closest grocery store to your tiny little cabin, utterly overwhelmed by the emotions of three hormonal teenagers that entered shortly after you arrived.
You try to ignore them, but itâs too much. Your skin is crawling with their anger and insecurity, the feelings building until you just canât take it anymore. You have to get out. Now.
You abandon your half-filled cart and rush out of the store. Youâre so focused on getting away that you donât even notice the woman in front of you until you collide with her. You start to apologize, but you freeze when you notice something: this woman has no emotions.
How the fuck does this woman have no emotions?!
Your eyes grow wide in horror, âoh god! Whatâs wrong with you?â
The woman just smiles, âso many things, little star, so many things.â
âYouâŚyouâre quiet. Why are you quiet? Are you sick? Do you need help?â You probably donât make any sense, but you are way too freaked out to properly explain yourself.
Somehow, she understands you, âIâm not sick, little star. My mutation just counteracts yours.â
âYour mutation? Youâre a mutant too?â
âYes, I am.â
You realize you havenât actually let go of this woman yet. Youâve spent this entire interaction with a death grip on her shoulders. You try to let go, but youâre scared that the quiet will go away if you stop touching her, âI havenât met another mutant beforeâŚwhat can youâŚI mean, god. This is probably rude, but how are doing that? Whatâs your mutation?â
âItâs not rude to want to understand. Iâm telepathic, Iâm able to shield my mind from your abilities.â
âOh, thatâsâŚthank you for telling me,â You stumble over your words, overwhelmed, âIâm y/n, by the way. Sorry, I shouldâve introduced myself earlier.â
âIâm Madelyne, but you can call me Maddie,â the woman - Maddie - smiles gently at you before her expression shifts to something sadder, âyou said youâve never met another mutant, does that mean youâre all alone?â
You nod, âitâs easier that way. Being around other people is hard with my powers.â
Her eyes widen, âbut youâre so young, you shouldnât have to take care of yourself.â
You have no idea how to respond to that. Does she actually care? Is she just being nice? âIâm fine, really. Iâm used to being alone,â you shift awkwardly. This is your first real human interaction in months and you have no idea what to do. You settle on your usual approach: fleeing. You glance at the road behind Maddie, finally letting her go, âI, uhâŚI should probably start heading home if I want to get back before dark.â
Panic briefly flashes across Maddieâs face and she moves to grab your hands, âno, wait. Little star, I canât let you leave,â her grip on your hands tightens as she grows increasingly upset, âI canât let this happen again, I canât just let you wander alone without protection. I promised myself that I wouldnât abandon another child.â
You blink, rapidly realizing youâve walked into something much bigger than you expected, âIâm not a child,â you tug against her hands, âlet me go.â
âNo!â Maddie pulls your struggling body in her arms. You try to fight, but itâs no use. She reaches out to touch your forehead and suddenly all the energy drains out of you. The last thing you see before you fall asleep is Maddieâs desperate eyes, staring down at you like youâre her last chance at redemption, âeverything is going to be okay, little star. I failed Nathan, but I wonât fail you.â
A/N: I thought about finding a fake text maker thing for the texts in this chapter, but those programs are really annoying to work with. So y'all are just getting regular formatting for the texts.
CW: Kinda sorta kidnapping? Also implied off-page murder (RIP Mr. Rivers)
Chapter 1 | Series Masterlist
The room begins to spin and you watch with an abstract detachment as the letter falls from your hands. Your thoughts are a tangled jumble that you can't even begin to straighten out. All you know is that you have to get out of here. Now. You will yourself to stand, but you're frozen to the spot by unanswered questions: if you tried to leave now, would Fisk stop you? Would he follow you back to your apartment? Oh god, you canât bring Wilson Fisk to Mattâs doorstep. What do you do? How do you even begin to deal with this? What-
â...kay, my dear?â You blink as Fisk's hand lands gently on your shoulder, breaking you out of your spiral.
It's obvious that he just asked you something, but you have no idea what, âsorry, what did you say?â
âI said that I know this must be shocking news, but you donât need to worry. Let me take care of this, okay?â
Fiskâs voice is so calm, so steady. You latch on to that steadiness like a drowning man that just got thrown a life preserver, and you nod before considering the implications of your actions. Youâre vaguely aware of Fisk speaking to one of his men - when did they get here? - and you watch blankly as Mr. Rivers is dragged out of the room. Part of you knows you should be concerned about that, but youâre too shocked to react.
Fisk looks back at you, âwell, my dear, I believe a paternity test is in order. We can go to the clinic now.â
You almost nod again, but stop at the last moment. You canât seriously be thinking about going to a secondary location with Wilson Fisk. Snap out of it, y/n!
âRight, great idea. Alternative idea, though: maybe we can both just pretend we never got these letters and go back to whatever we were doing before my mother died? Iâm sure you have important crime lord things to do.â Oh god. Did you just say that out loud? You close your eyes, bracing yourself for Fiskâs anger, but it never comes. You gather the courage to open your eyes and see that heâsâŚsmiling?
Fisk laughs, actually laughs, before reassuring you, âIâm sure youâve heard terrible things about me, but I can assure you that you are safe with me. There is no need to be afraid.â
âIâm not afraid,â liar, âI just try not to go to secondary locations with strange men.â
âThat is very wise of you, but Iâm not a strange man, am I?â
You bite your lip, âwellâŚno.â
âWould it make you feel better if someone else knew where you were going? Maybe a friend? I could call someone for you.â
You hold back a hysterical laugh at the thought of Matt, Foggy, or Karen getting a random call from the man they helped put in prison, âitâs fine. Iâll just text someone.â
âVery well, you can do that on our way to the clinic, then,â before you can refuse, Fisk ushers you out of the building and into a long black town car.
You stare at your phone, trying to figure out who to text. Mattâs busy with his mysterious trip, Karen would insist on accompanying you, and FoggyâŚwell, you suppose heâs probably the most reasonable option. You sigh and open your text thread:
You: donât freak out
Foggy: terrible opener, but continue
You: Iâm maybe kinda sort in Wilson Fiskâs car right now?
You decline Foggyâs call.
Foggy: what??
Foggy: are you okay?
Foggy: do you need help?
You: No, it's fine. He told me to tell someone where I'm going, so I don't think he's planning to kill me or anything.
Another call.
Foggy: why were you with him in the first place?
You: it's a long story. I'll explain everything later, okay?
A third call.
Foggy: hell no
A fourth.
Foggy: pick up the phone
A fifth.
Foggy: I will trace your location and show up with Daredevil if you don't answer my call
You sigh heavily and answer the call, "I doubt you have Daredevil's number, Foggy."
"I'll make a signal. Like Batman."
You laugh, "calm down. I'm fine, see? Completely alive and well."
"What does Fisk want with you?" Foggy sounds appropriately suspicious.
"Right now? A paternity test."
"WHAT?!"
"Oops, sorry, Foggy. Looks like we're going through a tunnel or something. Talk to you once I'm back home. Bye." You quickly hang up your phone, shoving it in your bag to ward against the barrage of texts you're sure you'll get once Foggy tells the others. You're not quite ready to deal with that yet.
You almost jump when Fisk suddenly speaks, "you live in Hell's Kitchen?"
"What?"
"On the phone, you mentioned Daredevil."
"Oh, right. Yeah, my current place is right in the middle of the kitchen," god, you wish you were home right now.
"Do you live alone?" Fisk's eyes scan your body. His gazes lingers on your second-hand clothes and worn out shoes, clearly assessing your wealth.
"No, I have a roommate. He's great."
"Your roommate is a man?" Fisk seems almost...offended?
"UhâŚyeah?" You have no idea why he seems to care so much about your living situation. It's not like he knows you.
You're saved from Fisk's continued questioning by your arrival at the fanciest medical clinic you've ever seen. It looks like they'd charge you more than your monthly paycheck just to breathe the air in that place. You hide behind Fisk's considerable form as the two of you walk inside, shielding yourself from the staff's judgemental eyes.
God. How did you even get here? You never shouldâve answered the phone.
Family Reunion - Platonic Yandere Harry Osborn and Sister! Reader
Woo! Platonic yandere Harry! This went in a different direction than I originally planned, but I like where it ended up!
Taglist: @darkshadow90
CW: Drugging/Poisoning, Mental Health Issues, Suicide Mention, Controlling Behavior, Manipulation, General Yandere Things
Youâre not ashamed to admit that you ran after your father died. You know you should be, but you just arenât. You needed to get away - away from the manor, away from the memories that haunt those walls, and, most of all, away from your reputation.
After your father took the serum, things gotâŚweird. Your father became obsessed with âtaking care of you,â which apparently meant convincing everyone you were insane and unable to live on your own. Your father spent months carefully building up a false narrative around your mental health, providing just enough information and letting the rumor mill fill in the rest. A few passing comments in interviews, a few falsified medical records conveniently leaked to the press, and suddenly you were sick - unstable, crazy, a danger to yourself. Suddenly you were poor little y/n, who lost her mind just like her mother.
Anyone would run from that, right?
You carefully built a back door into one of your fatherâs lesser-monitored accounts in the initial chaos and used some of the money to buy a house outside the city. You quietly moved in after the funeral, installed the best security possible, and told absolutely no one where you were - not even Harry.
Which begs the question: how the hell is your brother in your living room right now?
âHarry?â Youâre unable to make out more than his outline due to the darkness of the room, but youâd recognize him anywhere, âwhatâs going on?â You try to keep your voice steady, but you know it shakes. Why would Harry suddenly show up after two years of no contact? More importantly, why would he break into your house instead of knocking like a normal person? This cannot possibly be good.
âThereâs no need to be afraid, y/n, I just want to talk,â Harry gestures towards a mug on the coffee table, âI made you tea. You like it with honey, right?â
You nod slightly, picking up the mug and sitting as far away from your brother as possible, ââŚthanks.â
The two of you sit in silence for several long moments. The moonlight shifts and suddenly your brotherâs face is no longer in shadow. You gasp softly at the scars twisting up his cheek, âgod, Harry. What happened to your face?â
Harry reaches up to touch the scars, âSpider-Man happened.â
âIâŚthatâs terribleâŚâ you bite your lip, trying to find the words, âis thatâŚI mean, is that why you came here? To my house?â You wince, realizing how insensitive that sounded, âitâs not that I donât want to see you, of courseâŚI justâŚitâs been so longâŚâ
âMy house,â Harry corrects calmly.
You blink, confused, âwhat?â
âI know youâve been slowly draining one of dadâs accounts for years now. Except it isnât his account anymore, is it? Itâs mine. So really, anything youâve bought with that money belongs to me.â
You wince, bracing yourself for an angry rant about stealing from family, or maybe a demand to pay his back, âlook, Harry. I can explain.â
Harry just smiles, âno need to explain, I understand. Though I do want you to know that you couldâve just asked me, y/n.â
ââŚreally?â
âOf course, itâs my job to take care of you.â
You flinch, deeply unsettled by those words. Thereâs no way Harry could know thatâs what your father always said, right? It was just a coincidence. You drink some of the tea, trying to collect yourself. Your voice shakes again when you speak, âthanks, Harry. Thatâs uhâŚthatâs good to know,â you swallow, âis that all you wanted to talk about?â
âNo,â Harry smiles again, though it doesnât quite reach his eyes, âafter this happened,â Harry gestures to his face, âI realized that Iâve been focusing on the wrong thing. It isnât about getting revenge for what is lost, itâs about protecting what I have left.â
You nod slightly, trying to figure out where this is going.
âI want you to come back home, y/n. It isnât right, you living alone like this. I never shouldâve let you leave. I mean, how am I supposed to protect you like this?â
You freeze, once again hearing the echoes of your father in Harry. You fight against your growing panic. Harryâs words are just a coincidence. Heâs not your father. He hasnât taken the serum. He would never hurt you like that. Youâre just overreacting.
You take a deep breath, âIâm a big girl, Harry. IâŚappreciate the concern, but I can take care of myself.â
Harry frowns, his eyes hardening, âIâm worried about you, y/n.â
ââŚwhy?â You ask cautiously.
âWell, you know. With yourâŚhistory, who knows how bad youâve gotten the last couple of years. I wouldnât want you to hurt yourself like mom did.â
No. No, no, no. No. This isnât happening. Not again, âHarry,â your voice is tight, nervous, âyou know Iâm not like mom. Iâm not sick.â
âOf course I know that, but after your suicide attemptâŚwell, everyone else will think you are.â
âWhatâŚwhat did you say?â
âPoison is a little cliche, I know, but easy to reverse. I donât want to actually hurt you.â
The tea.
You drop the mug, watching in slow motion as it shatters at your feet. You can already feel the effects of whatever he gave you in your system. Itâs getting harder to think, harder to breathe. You stumble forward, mumbling weakly, âwhy?â
Harry catches you, effortlessly lifting you into his arms, âdad was right about everything, y/n. You need someone to take care of you.â
You hear sirens outside, and feel the weight of whatâs about to be set in motion pressing down on you. Suffocating you just as much as the poison. All the while, Harry just smiles down at you, âeverything is going to be okay now, y/n. I promise...â
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You pace the length of your living room, trying to process what youâve just learned, âso, let me get this straight, Mr. Rivers: my mother is dead?â
âThat is correct.â
âAnd - even though I havenât spoken to her in over six years - Iâm named in her will?â
âThat is also correct.â
God, part of you wants to strangle this lawyer, âand now you want me to go to some office building uptown - which will take me at least an hour to get to, by the way - today because my mother left me something that has to be opened in person?â
âYes.â
âAnd you canât come to me becauseâŚ?â
âYour mother named someone else in the will. We have to meet them.â
Jesus Christ, this is not how you wanted to spend your day off, âfine. Iâll be there this afternoon,â you hang up before Mr. Rivers can say anything else.
The rain once again fills the unnatural silence of your apartment. You havenât thought about your mother in years. In fact, youâve made a rather valiant effort to pretend that you never had a mother. What could she possibly want to give you? Who else is named in the will? Why did that lawyer seem so freaked out by a simply estate execution?
Well, you guess thereâs only one way to find out.
If you were feeling uncharitable - which you are, considering the fact that youâre completely soaked by the trip over here - you would describe Mr. Rivers as a mousy little man. His suit is cheap, his hair is thin, and his eyes hold a sort of feral anxiety common in captive animals. Despite the rain, heâs pacing outside the building when you arrive.
âYouâre late,â itâs not a statement, itâs an accusation.
âThe train was delayed.â
âFine, justâŚfollow me and be quiet,â Mr. Rivers practically hisses before leading you inside an aggressively bland office building.
The sleek, modern interior of the building gives absolutely no clues as to what happens here. Youâre almost certain itâs impossible for a building to be any more nondescript, none of the offices even have signs in front of them. The office Mr. Rivers leads you into is more of the same: cold, modern, and lacking any distinguishing features. The only thing with any sort of personality in the room is a large painting hanging on one wall. Itâs modern art, of course, but itâs the good sort of modern art. Clearly someone actually cared about this piece. It wasnât made merely for some tax evasion scheme.
âLovely, isnât it? Itâs one of my wifeâs favorites,â someone speaks from behind you, their voice deep and confident.
You recognize that voice? Why do you recognize it? OhâŚthatâs right: youâve heard it on the court recordings from Matt and Foggyâs biggest case. You recognize the voice because it belongs to Wilson Fisk.
The other person named in your motherâs will is Wilson fucking Fisk.
You slowly turn, trying to hide your sheer panic. Judging by the way Fiskâs eyes narrow, youâre not doing a very good job, âare you alright, my dear?â The sound of genuine concern in his voice is jarring.
âYeah, IâmâŚIâm fine, sorry.â
Fisk is already guiding you to a small couch near the window before you even finish speaking, âthereâs no need to apologize, the news of your motherâs death must have been upsetting.â
You nod slightly, looking down at your hands with a small sigh, âhowâŚhow did you know my mother?â
âI had a brief relationship with her as a young man.â
âOh,â you have enough self-control to keep your next question to yourself: why the hell would she name you in her will?
Mr. Rivers clears his throat, âthank you for coming on such sort notice, sir,â heâs only talking to Fisk. Treating you as if you donât even exist. Granted, this is not the first time a lawyer has ignored you in favor of someone more powerful, but itâs particularly irritating when youâre here because of your mother. Mr. Rivers leans in slightly, lowering his voice as he speaks with a conspiratorial air, âIâm sure this is just some stunt.â
You scoff. Your mother was many things, but a liar was not one of them. If she named Wilson Fisk in her will, she had a good reason.
Fisk seems to agree with you as he glares at Mr. Rivers, âyou said there were letters?â
âYes, here,â Mr. Rivers digs through his briefcase and pulls out two envelopes. One of them is unceremoniously shoved into your hands.
You read the letter. Then re-read. Then read it a third time in the hope that something has changed. Nothing has. The words on the page remain the same, no matter how much you wish they would say something different:
Y/F/N,
I know I am the last person you want to hear from. I wasnât a good mother, and you have every right to be angry with me. Iâve worked hard to respect your desire for no contact, but Iâm afraid I must let you down one last time. There is something you must know.
Wilson Fisk is your father.
Wilson was not aware of your birth. He did not abandon you. I kept you from him because I was scared of losing you.
I hope someday you can forgive my cowardice.
- Mom
A/N: I feel like I write a lot of more innocent or scared readers, so I wanted to try a reader that's a bit bolder. There's some pretty sexual tones to some of this, but Otto doesn't reciprocate, so it's kind of up to you whether this is platonic or not.
CW: Kidnapping, Brief Mention of an Overdose, Passive Suicidal Behavior/Ideation, Depressed Reader, General Yandere Things
You wake up in a bed you don't recognize, which is not necessarily new for you. You don't gain a reputation as Oscorp's spoiled heiress without sleeping around a little. What is new is the fact that this bed is not located in some lavish hotel room or overpriced penthouse, but rather a lab of some sort. Quiet mumbling and the gentle clank of tools draws your attention to someone standing at a nearby work table. His silhouette is instantly recognizable as none other than Dr. Otto Octavius.
"Well, I've woken up in beds belonging to lots of interesting men and women, but I think a wanted criminal takes the cake," you enjoy watching Otto jump, turning towards you in surprise. You take in his state of partial undress - he's only wearing pants and that strange harness fused to his spine - and ask idly, "did we sleep together? Usually, I would remember something like that."
Otto makes a strangled noise, "no, Ms. Osborn. We didn't sleep together," he seems uncomfortable with this line of questioning. Otto expected many different reactions to you waking up in his lab, but this was not one of them.
"Please, just y/n. Ms. Osborn was my mother, god rest her soul," you prop yourself up on your elbows as you continue to watch him, "if we didn't sleep together, how did I end up in your bed?"
"You're collateral, my dear. Insurance that your brother brings me my tritium," Otto pauses, staring into the distance for a moment, "...at least you were."
You laugh, instantly understanding the implication, "Harry didn't fucking care, did he? Let me guess, he asked for Spider-Man instead?"
"Yes," Otto seems more upset by your brother's indifference than you do. His arms have stopped tinkering with whatever is on the table and have instead started chirping at him.
"So are you going to kill me then? Since I'm useless?" You move to hang halfway off of the bed, one of your arms swinging in the air, "or am I bait for Spider-Man?"
"This isn't a game, y/n," two arms pick you up and gently move you to sit upright against the headboard.
You hum, pulling your knees up to your chest, "I know it isn't. Honestly, I've been waiting for something like this to happen."
Otto looks at you in confusion and vague concern, âyouâve been waiting to be kidnapped?â
"A kidnapping, an overdose, a mental breakdown, maybe something flashy like a helicopter crash? People like me don't usually get happy endings, Dr. Octavius." The playful energy drains out of your eyes and your voice grows cold, "I'm tired, Otto. I lost both of my parents, Harry's too obsessed with revenge to give me the time of day, and most of the people who talk to me are trying to sleep their way into the family fortune. I just want it to be done."
Otto frowns, staring at you sadly. He moves to sit down next to you on the bed, "my dear...I'm sorry. I had no idea you felt this way."
You shrug, "it's okay, I work pretty hard to hide it."
One of the mechanical claws hovers in front of your face, making what you can only describe as a sad warbling. You laugh slightly and reach out to touch it, "you know, these things are pretty cute," more claws come over, nuzzling against you. You look up at Otto after a few minutes of playing with them, "I guess I should probably go, huh? Since Iâm useless and you donât seem to want to kill me.â
âNo,â Otto says quickly.
âNo?â
âStay here. With us. We can help you, protect youâŚmaybe even from yourself.â
You frown, âI donât want your pity, Otto. Iâm going to leave now,â you push yourself up from the bed, only to be instantly pulled back down by the arms.
âItâs not pity, my dear, and weâre not going to let you leave. Youâre ours now.â
A/N: This will be a multi-chapter fic focused on platonic yandere Wilson Fisk and daughter! reader. It will also eventually feature romantic yandere Matt, plus potentially yandere Frank or Dex.
CW: None
Chapter 1 | Series Masterlist
You wake up to a sinking feeling of dread.
Itâs been raining for days now. The cold seeps into the very bones of Hellâs Kitchen, driving its residents closer to the edge. The streets are emptier than usual, but that does not mean they are safer. All those with legitimate business have fled inside, leaving only those with nefarious intentions on the streets. Typically, Daredevil would be out at times like these, ensuring that those driven to desperation donât hurt anyone during their downward spiral. Lately, however, Daredevil has been conspicuously absent.
So has your roommate.
Matt left on unspecified business three days ago. God only knows what business a mostly unemployed lawyer has outside of the city, but thatâs really none of your concern. What is your concern is the unnerving quality of the newfound silence in your shared apartment. You keep expecting to hear Matt stumble in late at night, making vague excuses about boxing or a rough encounter with a door when you notice his bruises the next morning. Instead, you just hear the never-ending rain.
Youâre exhausted and uneasy, constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for something terrible to happen.
Waiting, perhaps, for a phone call.
âMs. Y/L/N?â You donât recognize the voice on the other side of the line. Itâs high and nasally, altogether grating, in your opinion.
âOh, good. Thatâs good,â you look around the room before returning your eyes to Fisk. Heâs still kneeling in front of you looking entirely too soft for a known crime lord, âso, uhâŚnow that we know my mom wasnât lying, Iâm going to go home, I guess?â
âNo.â
âNo?â
âNo.â
You blink in confusion, â...are you holding me hostage right now?â
âOf course not, but I canât let you leave.â
âCool, so by definition, that is holding me hostage,â your eyes dart towards the door, calculating your probability of successfully running out of this building.
Platonic yandere Wilson Fisk & daughter! reader. This fic will also eventually feature romantic yandere Matt Murdock (and maybe also yandere Frank or Dex).
A/N: It's me, Vik, back again with a yandere fic that absolutely no one asked for! I was rewatching tasm 2 & thinking "god, what would happen if like literally anyone was even slightly kind to Max," and then I realized that I can write what would happen. So here it is!
CW: Electrocution, Guns, Kidnapping (ish?), General Yandere Things
Youâve never been very good at minding your own business.
Personally, youâve never considered that to be a character flaw. If you listened to your mother, however, you would think it was one of the worst things about you. As your neighbor carries you across the New York skyline, youâre starting to wish that you had listened to your mother.Â
It started innocently enough. Your neighborâs door was open, and really, you were just being a good neighbor by checking in.Â
You peer curiously inside the dark doorway, knocking gently on the frame, âMax? Are you in there? Do you know your door is open?âÂ
Thereâs no reply, just a strange buzzing coming from deeper in the apartment. You shrug and go to close the door, only to jump back in surprise when the handle shocks you. A voice breaks through the buzzing, âyou remember my name?â
You cautiously enter the apartment, concerned that your neighbor may be sick or injured, âMax? Are you feeling okay? Your voice sounds weir-â Your question is cut off when you finally see Max. Based on the strange blue glow beneath his skin and the fact that heâs actively sparking electricity, youâre going to guess that heâs not okay.
Max slowly tilts his head, repeating his question, âyou remember my name?â
âYes? YouâŚyouâve lived next to me for like two years, Max. Why wouldnât I remember your name?â
âNo one remembers me, Iâm a nobody.â
You frown, trying to move closer to Max without getting zapped. A sane person would probably try to put more distance between themselves and possible electrocution, not less, but this is Max. The guy you talk to in the elevator most days, the one that helped fix an electrical issue in your apartment when the landlord was dodging your calls. You have to at least try to help him, âyouâre not a nobody, Max. I know you. And, I mean, I donât know if weâre friends but Iâd like to think that weâre friendly.â
âI donât have any friends.â
The closer you get, the worse Max looks. Something is very wrong, âwell, I can be your friend. And, uh, welllâŚfriends help each other, right? I think you could really use some help right now.â You pause, realizing you canât just bring your weird glowing neighbor to a hospital, âI donât really know how to help, but maybe we could find Spider-Man?â
Electricity sparks wildly, moving far closer than youâre comfortable with, âSpider-Man is a liar! He only pretended to be my friend!â You flinch as Max turns to you with clear anger, âare you a liar, y/n?â
âNo! No! Of course not, I wouldnât lie to you,â you desperately search for a way to diffuse this situation. Maybe you could just change the subject? Thatâs a stupid idea, but your only other option appears to be death by electrocution, âhey, Max! I just remembered, itâs your birthday today, right?â
He pauses, the electricity calming down slightly, âit is my birthdayâŚâ
âGreat! I actually have a gift for you!â Your voice is just a bit too cheerful to be genuine, but Max doesnât seem to notice.
âYeah! HereâŚâ you dig through your bag, pulling out a little handmade bracelet, âitâs not a lot or anything, but I figured since you seemed interested in my bracelets the other day youâd maybe like one of your own? I didnât really know what color you like, so I went with rainbow beads and added your name in blackâŚâ Oh god. Youâre rambling. Youâre rambling and Max is just staring at you. Youâre totally going to die. Youâre going to die because you suck at gifts. Also because your neighbor is insane, but the gift thing will definitely be a factor.Â
You close your eyes, waiting for the inevitable end.
And waiting.
And waiting.Â
Jesus, whatâs taking him so long? You slowly open your eyes and see that Max isâŚcrying? What the hell?
âYou made this? For me?â
âUhâŚyeah?â You tentatively hold out the bracelet.
 The electricity dies completely as Max takes the bracelet, âI havenât gotten a gift in a long time.â Max slips on the bracelet, smiling slightly. Youâre about to speak when the sound of sirens fill the air.
âUhâŚMax? Are those heading here?âÂ
The electricity starts back up, only this time it avoids you completely. Youâre standing in the center of Maxâs apartment like youâre in the eye of the storm, watching as walls and furniture are struck. Even through the noise of Maxâs powers, you hear heavy boots on the stairs. A lot of heavy boots.Â
You scream as cops rush into the apartment, already firing. You run to hide behind Max, maintaining a death grip on his shoulders, âMax! Theyâre shooting at us! WHY ARE THEY SHOOTING AT US?!â
Max lifts you into his arms, forming a barrier of electricity around the two of you as he easily climbs out the window. You scream again as he carries you inhumanly fast through the city, seemingly jumping between power lines, âMax! Whatâs going on!?â
âIâll explain soon, y/n. For now, just know that Iâll protect you. Youâre my friend, my only friend, and Iâm not going to lose you.âÂ
You look down at the small bracelet still on Maxâs wrist and regret every life choice youâve ever made. You really, really wish you had just minded your own fucking business.Â
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For your 100 followers celebration prompt! (Congrats!!)
Prompt 6 with one of the Moonknight boys đŤśđ˝
I decided to mix things up and go with Jake for this!
Jake Lockley + âDo you like these photos of you? I have a lot more.â
CW: Stalking, Kidnapping, General Yandere Things
Jake Lockley hates you.
Admittedly, that may be a bit dramatic. In all likelihood, Jake Lockley is, at most, aggressively ambivalent towards you. Why else would he avoid spending any and all time with you?
He never fronts for longer than ten minutes when youâre around. He never talks to you. Hell, you can count on one hand the number of times youâve actually interacted with him, and at least two of those interactions only happened because Jake had to take over while Steven was driving. Obviously, the man wants nothing to do with you.
So why the hell are there photos of you in his car?
Not a couple of photos. Not something that can be written off as Steven leaving them behind. No, there was an entire box of photos in his car.
You look through the box with growing horror. Thereâs literally thousands of photos in here: photos of you at work, at home, running errands, with friends. Photos taken from all distances and at all times of day. Photos taken this week and photos that mustâve been taken months before you even met the boys.
What the fuck is going on?
You have to get out of here. Thereâs no good explanation for this. As much as you want to trust Marc and Steven, thereâs no garuntee that Jake isnât going to go full serial killer on you.
You turn around only to directly collide with Jake. He notices the box in your hand and smiles, âdo you like these photos of you? I have a lot more.â This is bad. Maybe you can play dumb?
âPhotos? What photos?â Maybe not that dumb, âI mean, I found this box but I havenât really looked inside.â You try to slowly move away from Jake, but he cages you against the car. You donât like the look in his eyes as he stares down at you.
âDonât lie to me, cariĂąo,â Jake leans even closer, âI know you saw them.â
You swallow nervously, looking for an escape route. Youâre in a back alley in a rarely traveled part of town. Thereâs no way to get out and itâs unlikely anyone will be coming to save you, âwhyâŚwhy do you have these? I thought you didnât like meâŚâ
Jake lifts his hands to cradle your face, âI do like you, y/n. Marc and Steven think I like you too much. Theyâve been keeping me away from you, shoving me into the headspace whenever youâre around.â
ââŚoh,â you try to pull away but Jakeâs hands follow you.
âItâs okay, though. We had a nice a long chat and the others arenât ever going to keep me from you again,â his hands travel down, wrapping firmly around your shoulders.
âWhatâŚwhat does that mean?â Did he hurt them? Can he hurt them?
âDonât worry about them, cariĂąo. Iâm the only one that matters. Now, come on,â Jake firmly guides you into the car, his strong grip stopping you from slipping away, âI think weâre long overdue for some quality time together.â
"Just Like Us" Yandere Norman Osborn/Green Goblin & Daughter! Reader, Part 2
A/N: This picks up a few hours after the end of part 1. I would highly recommend reading part 1 first if you have not already done so.
Flashbacks are italicized.
Tag: @darkshadow90
CW: Major Injuries/Head Trauma (no abuse - readerâs injuries are not intentionally inflicted), Nausea/Vomiting, Drugging, Overprotectiveness, Obsession, Possessiveness, Captivity, General Yandere Things
You wake up on the dusty floor of a dark room, alone except for the pounding in your head and a deep feeling of unease. You drag yourself up to lean against the wall and look around, hoping to calm your nerves. Unfortunately, what you see only makes you more anxious: shelves full of bombs, displays of gliders and suits, and rows upon rows of toxic green vials shimmering in the dim light.
You try to remember how you got here, questions filling your mind - did you choose this or was this done to you? If it was done to you, then who did it? More importantly, why did they do it?
The answers come back in flashes and fragments.
âPlease! Stop!â Strong arms wrap around you, pulling you down a long hallway as you fight to break free. The arms belong to someone who is faceless yet somehow familiar. He's someone you love, you know that much, but you can't remember who.
You glance down. Sickly green bruises are already forming on your wrists, and the phantom pain of a too-tight grip lingers on your skin.
âDonât let him hurt me!â You call out to someone who is not there, begging a ghost for help.
You try to stand, only to be hit by a wave of nausea. You lean over and heave. All that comes up is bile.
âDonât do this to me!â A secret door opens and youâre shoved inside, falling headfirst into a shelf. You look towards the door despite the pain, clinging to a desperate hope that someone will save you. All you see is the man who put you here in the first place, his face now revealed to you. The man is your father. The man is not your father. Somehow both of these things are true.
The door opens while youâre still heaving. Your father runs to you, pulling you into his arms, ây/n! Oh god, did he hurt you?â
The minute his hands touch you, everything snaps into place: the fight, the escape attempt, the Goblin. You try to push him away, not wanting his touch, âleave me alone! Please donât hurt me!â
âI would never hurt you, sweetheart,â your father speaks softly as he carries you over to a small cot, as if he can dampen the terror left by the Goblin. Pain flares and you lose time. Suddenly youâre on the cot, medical supplies scattered nearby and no memory of how they got there.
You glance around the room as your father bandages your head, still not shaking your unease. There are plenty of rooms in the manor that the Goblin could've locked you in, yet he choose the one full of creepy chemicals. You carefully ask your father, âwhy did he take me here?â
âWeâre going to make you understand, sweetheart.â
You do not like the sound of that, ââŚunderstand what?â
âUnderstand what weâve achieved,â your father gestures towards the vials, âthe performance enhancer Oscorp developed works. It increases strength, improves senses, promotes healing-â
â-creates evil second personalities,â you mumble your little interjection almost inaudibly, but you can tell your father heard you.
âNo, no, no. Itâs not like that. The Goblin isnât evil.â
âHe killed people! He couldâve killed Harry!â
âHeâs just protecting me. Protecting us. If he didnât take care of the board, we wouldâve lost Oscorp. How could we take care of you then?â
âI can take care of myself!â
Your father grows increasingly agitated as you continue to fight back, glancing at something that you canât see, âno, you canât! Itâs not safe! You need us!â
You stop trying to argue. The father you knew is long gone, there's no hope of him seeing reason. You summon what little strength you have left for another escape attempt. You donât even make it to the door before strong arms lift you into the air.
The Goblin is back.
âNow, now, princess. We really need to work on this little habit of yours. Canât have you running all the time.â
âFuck you!â You spit, kicking wildly.
âGood little princesses listen to their fathers, y/n."
You manage to slam an elbow into his nose, hearing a sickening crunch and feeling warm blood on your skin. The Goblin just laughs as he carries you back into the darkness, "so much fighting, and for what? We're helping you. Maybe after we give you the serum you'll behave."
Your panic increases tenfold as he carries you towards a glass chamber, âno! Donât do this! I wonât fight anymore! Please!â
âYou had your chance to play nice, princess. Little old Norman was going to give you a choice,â the Goblin spits out your fatherâs name like itâs poison, âbut weâre past that. You need our help. You need us to fix you."
He places you inside the chamber and you pound against the glass. Sobs of pure terror wrack your body. Your words are an incoherent mess of âpleaseâ and ânoâ and âdonât.â
Toxic green gas begins to fill the chamber. The last thing you see before youâre lost in the fog is the Goblinâs bloody smile. His too sweet voice taunts you as you begin to lose consciousness, "it will be over soon, princess. When you wake up, you'll be perfect..."
Norman Osborn & Daughter Reader: Norman becomes dependent on the Goblin Serum
Summary: After you and Harry accidentally discover your fatherâs secret lair, both of you are faced with the horrifying reality that he is the Green Goblin. Norman becomes dependent on the Goblin serum and begs both of you to give him the vial. Heâs also trying to keep it together as he battles his darker half. Both of you try to keep the serum away from him to keep the Goblin from taking over.
AN: Hey guys. Itâs been a long time since I wrote a Norman Osborn fic. This is an idea Iâve had for a long time but never got around to writing. This takes place in the Raimi universe. Think of this as an AU where Harrry has a sister. Both he and reader know Norman is the Green Goblin. I got this in dea from Spider-Man 2 when Harry discovers Normanâs secret lair. There are multiple vials of Goblin serum. So I thought it would be interesting to have Norman be dependent on it to continue having his inhanced abilities. Heâs also battling internally with the Goblin while reader and Harry try to keep the vial away from him and stop the Goblin from taking full control. Warnings: Norman reliant on serum (pretty much drugs), mild violence against Harry, the Goblin comes out at certain moments, Norman/Goblin chasing after reader, ect I hope you like this đI boldened the font to indicate when the Goblin is talking to reader. @vo1d-bunny
Both you and Harry still couldnât believe it. You never thought you would find a secret lair in the mansion. Now it all made sense. Your father becoming more distant than usual. He was becoming more secretive, avoiding answering questions about where he was. There were even moments you and Harry thought you heard him talking to himself and laughing in the middle of the night. You remembered reading the headlines in the newspapers about the Green Goblinâs crimes. You remembered him attacking the parade. It horrified you. He couldâve killed Harry. You both saw the glider, the Green Goblin mask and suit. There were vials of some kind of green liquid. You werenât sure what they were, but after disposing of all the vials, you decided to keep one for research.
âWeâve got to do something, Harry. Dad has done terrible things. We canât let it keep happening. I know something is wrong with him. Iâm willing to bet this liquid is responsible.â âNo, Y/N. We canât. Dad might hurt us. Or heâll get arrested and go to prison.â âHarry, you couldâve been killed, MJ too. Iâm scared too, but we canât just sit back and keep allowing terrible things to happen to people. Peter is good at science. Maybe he can figure out what this stuff is and make an anti serum. Letâs take this to him.â Harry sighed. âOkay, Y/N. If this will make things right, then letâs do it.â As you and Harry were packing up, your father came home. He wasnât looking well. He looked haggard, disheveled. Norman saw the vial and snatched it from Harry. âWhere did you get this?â He sounded angry. Harry immediately began to get nervous. âWeâŚwe found it.â âI see. You were snooping around, werenât you.â You knew something was wrong. He didnât sound like his usual self. His tone of voice was different. Norman put his hand up to his forehead. He looked like he was in pain. âY/N, Harry, let me explain.â You both looked at him with apprehension, unsure of what he might do. Your father looked angry, but unlike the time when you were little and you accidentally broke the wedding picture, there was no look of pain in his eyes. This was different. His eyes were darker. You swallowed thickly. âI didnât mean for any of it to happen. I lost control. About a month ago, the military threatened to stop funding my projects. I decided to test the performance enhancers on myself. What I didnât count on was the other personality. The Goblin.â
You werenât entirely sure you could trust your father. âDad, this is serious. You killed the board members. You could have killed Harry and MJ.â Norman looked lost. âSweetheart, it wasnât me. It was the Goblin. I had nothing to do with any of it. I love you. I would never hurt you or Harry. The Goblin was trying to make things right. They were going to take everything from us. I tried to stop him, but he was too strong. He took things too far. When the Goblin takes over, I have no memory or control over what he says or does. But with his help, I was able to gain back control of Oscorp and I can give you and Harry everything you deserve.â You shook your head in disbelief. âYou understand, donât you, sweetheart? Everything we do, we do for you and Harry.â You shook your head again. âBut you hurt Harry. Youâre not well, but itâs okay. Weâll take this to Peter so he can figure out a cure.â âYeah dad, we just want you to be you again.â Normanâs demeanor immediately shifted. âNo, I will not allow you to take this to Parker. Heâll ruin everything.â That strange tone in his voice spoke again. It was his voice. At the same time it wasnât. He said Peterâs last name with distain. âDad please, we just want you to be back to normal.â The Goblin spoke to Norman in his mind. Ungrateful brats. You sacrificed so much for them, and this is how they repay you? No. We canât let anyone get in our way, not even your children. Now is not the time for cowardice, Osborn. Iâll take it from here. âNo. I wonât let you hurt them.â Norman looked like he was in pain again. âDad? Are you okay? Just hang in there. Weâll get this vial to Pete andâŚâ Harry was immediately caught off guard by Normanâs expression. His eyes went wild. Neither of you had ever seen such a look from him before. âI told you that you would do no such thing.â Harry tackled Norman to the ground, causing him to drop the vial. It rolled to your feet and you picked it up. Norman looked at you, his eyes pleading. âY/N, please.â Harry was trying to hold Norman back. âDad, snap out of it.â Harry said. The Goblin spoke to Norman again, mocking him. Yes, Norman, snap out of it. You looked at Norman and shook your head. âI canât let you have this.â You ran away from Norman. The Goblin spoke to him again. If she wonât give it to us, then we must take it. Norman shoved Harry off of him and began to chase after you.
âDad, stop!â You heard Harry yell to him as you were running away. What you heard next were Norman and the Goblin fighting for control. He was laughing. âY/N! Letâs talk.â He was laughing again. âY/N, give me the vial. Please? I need it. Y/NâŚâ He sounded so menacing. You fought the tears in your eyes and kept running. âGive it to me. You can trust me. We can all figure this out together. Y/N,â he said your name in a sing-song tone, as if he was enjoying the chase. You reached a dead end and turned around, hoping you could quickly make it to the door. But as you turned around you saw him walking toward you. His eyes were vacant, as if someone else was controlling him. âThe vial, Y/N.â It was a warning. You were cornered it was too late. You had no choice but to give the vial to him. âWhatever happens, weâre here for you.â He took it from you and Harry consoled you as you cried. He told you not to worry. The two of you would come up with a plan to get your father back.
A/N: This takes place somewhere in Season 2 of Legion. Itâs technically tied to my yandere David Haller headcanons, but you donât need to read them for this to make sense. All the context you need is that the reader is Davidâs twin and their mutation is empathy.
Also - I wanted to stay true to Faroukâs tendency to switch between languages for this, but I only speak English and all I have backing me up here is a lot of googling. Hopefully nothing is too terribly wrong.
CW: Kidnapping, Telepathic Powers/Telepathic Manipulation, General Yandere Things
âBonjour, ma chère.â
You open your eyes, taking stock of your surroundings: abandoned fortune telling stand in the middle of nowhere? Check. Mysterious disembodied voice? Check. Absolutely no memory of how you got here? Check. Youâre very clearly not inside Division Three anymore - at least your mind isnât. Which only leaves one option. Cautiously, you reach out for the source of the voice to confirm your suspicions.
âShow yourself, Farouk.â
âAh, very good, liebling. It took your brother much longer to recognize me. But then you always were the clever one.â
Farouk slowly fades into existence in front of you, his body wavering like a mirage. You take a moment to look him over. Everything about him is polished and composed, from his perfectly pressed suit to his spotless shoes. So this is the real Amahl Farouk, âyou canât hide from me, you know that. Your appearance may change, but you canât mask your emotions.â
âI canât hide from you anymore, my dear. I do recall spending nearly thirty years in hiding.â God, heâs so smug. Youâve always hated that about him.
âYeah, well, I was drugged out of my mind so that doesnât really count,â you shake your head. Why are you trying to defend yourself? This is just a distraction technique. You need to focus, âwhy am I here, Farouk? You donât care about me, only David.â
He frowns, âI do care for you. You are my baby, just as David is.â
You scoff, âyour baby? You possessed David, not me. You didnât want me.â You know you shouldnât be upset about this, having Farouk in his head has ruined Davidâs life, but you canât help but wonder why everyone always picks David over you. Is there something wrong with you? Are you not even good enough for the monster?
The fortune telling stand disappears and suddenly Farouk is standing right beside you, cradling your face in his hands, âazizam, have you ever considered that I possessed David because I wanted you?â
ââŚwhat?â Youâre so confused that you donât even try to pull away.
âI want you, y/n. I want you to be safe. I want you to be happy. That is why you are here.â
âWhat do you mean?â You catch yourself leaning into Farouk slightly, drawn in by his warmth. You know you shouldnât trust him, but he canât fake his emotions. You can tell that he genuinely cares for you.
âYour brother, David. He isâŚunstable. AâŚwhat is the phrase?â Farouk pauses and then snaps his fingers with a smile, âah - a time bomb!â He grows more serious, âYour brother is a ticking time bomb, and I want to save you before the inevitable explosion.â
âSave me?â
âYes, save you. Take you away. Get you out of the blast radius, if we continue with the metaphor.â
You hesitate. You should reject him on principle, but he might be right about David. As much as you love your brother, heâs changed recently. He doesnât seem like the man you used to know anymore.
StillâŚto leave? To join Farouk? That would betray everything you and David have been through. You canât do that. You take a deep breath, carefully considering your words, âIâŚI appreciate the offer, Farouk, but I canât just leave David.â
Farouk frowns slightly, but you donât sense defeat from him. Instead thereâsâŚpride? Why would he be feeling pride at your rejection. Something is wrong.
âAh, my star, you misunderstand.âFarouk begins to fade again and this time you go with him. You try struggle, but it does nothing. You look around to find yourself in a vast white expanse - no where to go, no place to hide, no one to help. Just Amahl Farouk smiling at you like the cat that got the canary.
âThat was not an offer. You are already mine.â
I'm writing a part two to "The Deal" right now, which is veering into a slightly darker yandere Frank than what I'd usually write. That fits the first part and is also going to be sick but like...why's Frank being so mean (â âĽâ ďšâ âĽâ )
Anyways, I'm counterbalancing that with some softer yandere Frank. Y'all are getting that first because "The Deal" Part 2 still needs more work.
Things You Shouldn't Do When You're Kidnapped by Frank Castle (Platonic Yandere Frank)
CW: Serious Injury, Blood, Reader Vaguely Mentions Wanting to Die but Theyâre Just Being Dramatic, Kidnapping, General Yandere Things
Look.
Youâre well aware that of the many items on the list of 'things you shouldnât do when you're kidnapped by Frank fucking Castle,' punching through a window in some misguided attempt at rebellion was probably near the top. In your defense, no one really thinks about how many major arteries are in their arms until they cut one of them.
Thereâs blood everywhere: the window, the floor, your clothes, your hair, even the ceiling. It looks like a low budget horror movie, complete with your body on the ground. After two failed attempts to get up, you resigned yourself to laying here until you either die of blood loss or Frank comes home. Whichever comes first.
Personally, youâre rooting for blood loss, but the sound of the front door opening tells you that Frank getting home has won. Fuck. You close your eyes and will yourself to bleed a little faster - Frank canât yell at you if youâre unconscious.
âDoll, I grabbed dinner from that Thai place you like,â Frank moves deeper into the apartment when you donât respond. âDarlinâ? Where areâŚâ He stops dead in his tracks when he sees you.
Time stretches into an eternity. This is Frankâs worst nightmare. You, his baby, the one good thing he had left in this world, are lying there damn near inches from death. His head swims as he rushes to you, âno, no, no, not you. Y/N? Baby? Can you hear me?â
You force your eyes open, looking up at Frank with blurred vision. Part of you knows that the Frank Castle standing above you is not your helpful next door neighbor. Part of you knows the Frank Castle standing above you is a man who betrayed your trust, a man you swore to never forgive. But...this isn't really forgiveness, right? You can go back to being mad at him once you're better. Maybe just this once it could be like it used to. You whine softly, reaching out for him, âhurtsâŚmake it stop.â
Frank picks you up, careful to not jostle you too much, âshhh, itâs okay. âM gonna make it all better, okay?â
You nod weakly, leaning into Frank as he carries you into the bathroom. He carefully sets you down and grabs his med kit from under the sink, "I need to treat your injuries, okay? This will hurt."
You nod again. He definitely isn't lying about it hurting. The process is long and painful. Youâve managed to cut yourself quite deep in several places, but thankfully not enough for the emergency room. Frank speaks gently as he treats your wounds with military precision, "what happened, y/n?"
You wince as he applies antiseptic, his gentleness surprising you. Is this really Frank? "Do we have to do this now?"
"Gotta talk about it eventually, darlin'. Besides, need you to stay awake for me." Yeah, this is Frank. Always so practical. "Did you fall?" And that's also Frank. Always thinking the best of you.
"No...I...I broke the window on purpose," you should've lied, gone along with his explanation, taken the easy way out. Honestly, you're not sure why you didn't. It would be easy to blame the pain, but some part of you just doesn't want to hurt Frank anymore than you already have, "didn't think it would do...well, this."
"This is what broken glass does, doll,â his voice is calm, not a hint of anger present.
You blink, confused, "you're not mad?"
"No, y/n, I'm just disappointed," somehow that's worse, "thought you were smarter than this."
"I'm sorry."
Frank pauses as he wraps a bandage around your wrist, looking up at you for a long moment. His eyes are far too vulnerable when he finally speaks, "am I really that bad? Do you hate it here that much?"
"No, I just..." You stop, wincing as he starts to stitch up your biggest cut, "I don't...Frank, you kidnapped me-"
"That's not-"
You cut him off, "no, let me finish. You kidnapped me, Frank. It doesn't matter that I knew you before this, and it doesn't matter that you just want to keep me safe, and it doesn't even matter that I would've said yes to living with you if you had just asked me! This is insane! You can't keep me here forever, Frank. I'm losing my mind."
"You...you would've lived with me?"
You push away slightly from Frank once he finishes the final stitch, letting months of anger pour out of you, "yes, you idiot. I like you, Frank. You're a good guy and you take care of me. Hell, you were almost like a dad to me, but dad's don't fucking kidnap their kids."
"There are people in this city who will hurt you because you're important to me, y/n. I can't just let you go," you feel your anger increasing, but before you explode again, Frank continues, "but we could go somewhere else."
"What?"
"I have new identities for us and there's a place up north, a cabin. You could go outside, even interact with other people. We'd be safe. Free. Together."
You pause for a long moment, staring at Frank in shock. He has new identities...a cabin...he's been preparing for this. He...he wasn't going to keep you here forever, "well why the fuck didn't you just tell me that!?â
Frank laughs, "so that's a yes, then, doll? You'll go with me?"
Huh.
So maybe punching through a glass window is slightly lower on the list of 'things you shouldnât do when you're kidnapped by Frank fucking Castle' than you had originally expected. At least so far as it forces Frank to actually tell you things. You'll have to keep that in mind, though maybe you could punch a plastic window next time. Reduce the blood and all.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
Platonic yandere father Arthur Harrow with autistic son?
Woo! Thank you for this request! I love writing autistic darlings and I love writing Harrow â¸(ď˝ĄË áľ Ë )â¸âĄ
I tried not to ramble too much about cult indoctrination in these headcanons, but my rarely used psych degree did get triggered like a sleeper agent while I was writing.
Platonic Yandere Father Arthur Harrow and Autistic Son Reader
CW: Cults/Cult Indoctrination, Obsession, Control, Murder, Ableism, General Yandere Things
Harrow would absolutely love if his darling was autistic, especially in a platonic yandere scenario, because they would be more susceptible to his control. After all, the man is a cult leader, and autistic people are very vulnerable to cult indoctrination. If you combine social isolation, decreased ability to recognize lies and manipulation, and a strong desire for structure and routine, you get the perfect cult victim and thus the perfect darling for Harrow.
Harrow is incredibly paranoid about you interacting with anyone outside of his cult, and he will go to extreme lengths to avoid that happening. He doesnât hide his behavior either, because heâs essentially brainwashed you into thinking his behavior is completely normal. Harrow has done his absolute best to keep you entirely insulated within his cult, so you legitimately do not have a frame of reference for how dysfunctional your relationship with your father is. Even if Harrow has only recently become your father and you do have experience with the outside world, it would likely only take a few months of cult indoctrination for you to believe that the world you used to know is wrong, not him.
Thankfully for your sanity, as long as you stay within the confines of the cult, your father actually lets you have a lot of freedom. You're not locked inside of his house, you're not limited to interacting with only him, and he doesn't even monitor your location all that closely. He trusts the other members of his cult to keep you safe and ensure you don't leave. Which, admittedly, means it's a false freedom since you're just under a more hidden form of control, but you don't know that.
The one thing your father does limit is knowledge of the outside world. No one in the cult is allowed free access to the internet or to outside technology, and you are not an exception. If you do receive information about the outside world, it's always going to be about how bad it is: crime statistics, information about poverty and wealth inequality, stories about murder and violence. The view you get of life outside the cult is that it's terrible and dangerous and you're so incredibly lucky to be safe with your father.
Now for some more autism specific things.
Harrow would definitely latch on to the whole "rigid sense of justice" piece of autism, viewing your strong convictions as some sort of gift from Ammit. If you were born after he became Ammit's avatar, he may even believe that you are a partial reincarnation of the goddess. Even if he doesn't go that far, he definitely puts you on a pedestal as pure and innocent.
There are two possibilities here surrounding whether or not Harrow reads your scales.
On one hand, he might read your scales immediately after you're born or the first time he meets you. If your scales balance, he'll prove to himself and his entire cult that you are a worthy child. If the don't, then he did you a mercy. He would have discovered your sins eventually, and this way he doesn't have to give you false hope.
On the other hand, Harrow might already be so obsessed with you and so delusional that he doesn't even see a need to read your scales. You're his son, obviously your scales are going to balance. He doesn't need to confuse or scare you with the whole formal process.
Harrow absolutely refuses to allow other people to make you feel lesser because of you autism. If anyone so much as suggests that there's something wrong with you or that you need to be fixed, then they're obviously a sinner. One time a member of the cult tried to force you to "overcome" one of your sensory issues and he just straight up killed them right then and there. There's no room for hatred in Ammit's paradise and that includes ableism.
Circling back to the whole "autistic people are more vulnerable to cults" things, there's a pretty decent chance that multiple members of the community are also autistic. Even before you came around, Harrow was already welcoming towards autistic people. As we see in the show, his cult is very progressive: offering vegan food, living communally, learning multiple languages. It's not a stretch to say that they're also very accessible.
Do you need any accommodations for your autism? Consider them already done. Sensory tools, quiet spaces, specific foods - Harrow will get you whatever you need without complaint. He wants to make your life as easy and comfortable as possible because it decreases the likelihood that you will ever want to leave. And, really, why would you ever want to leave? This is a good situation for you: you have a supportive and loving father, an accepting community, and an accommodating home. It's perfect as long as you ignore that your entire life is ultimately controlled by your father and his creepy death goddess cult.