#yanderes comforting their darling and their darling actually accepting it even if it's temporary. it always gets me

[ddarker-dreams]

Forgive me if this sort of thing has been explored before but picture this scenario: Chrollo coming home to darling having a panic attack. Why? What's going on?? She won't tell him, because it's a panic attack triggered by a phobia of something very mundane. She doesn't want him to know she has a phobia and she definitely doesn't want him to know what kind of phobia. To give an example let's say she has an irrational fear of mice. RIDICULOUS. He mustn't know. Lie lie lie distract disengage.

THIS ........ this setup does something for me........... i've recently fixated on this concept where you wake up from an awful nightmare, something like chrollo coldly ordering your death and for it to be as painful as possible.

you wake up, tears on your cheeks and sweat causing your nightwear to adhere to your skin. you're met with an unusual sight — chrollo's side of the bed is empty. cold, too. he must have been gone for a while now. any other night, this detail wouldn't arouse suspicion. if anything, it'd cause relief, that you've finally caught a break from his ever-watchful eye.

then your mind reminds you that chrollo isn't your only foe. it replays those images, those sounds, snapping and squelching as your grisly end nears.

you do what you can to calm yourself. splashing cold water on your face, drinking water, wiping the sweat from your brow; the way you go about everything is mechanical. he could do it, your thoughts taunt. this isn't the monster of your bed — waking up doesn't make the threat disappear. it only brings you closer.

with shaking hands, you open the door separating the bedroom from a moderately sized living space. you shove your pride aside and call out his name. softly, at first, and then at your normal speaking volume. nothing. would he really leave you on your own for this long without setting up precautions?

or maybe... is he preparing to finally do away with you?

the world goes on without your senses bothering to process anything. your body reacts like it would if an apex predator was gaining on you; all-consuming adrenaline, unsteady breathing, trembling limbs. this unrelenting whirlpool pushes you down to abyssal depths.

you're running out of air and it's too deep to surface.

then you hear a voice you recognize.

chrollo's kneeling down beside you, eyebrows furrowing, a prominent frown on his face. he rarely reveals this much emotion, small as it is. you can practically hear the gears in his head turning, attempting to piece together the situation and its severity. his hand is steady on your shoulder and the timbre of his voice soothes you. it's so consistent, so reliable, he always seems to know what to do and what to say.

you don't care to dwell on these bizarre thoughts. not now, not when you feel like you're drowning. an anchor is an anchor, even if it's a man you've sworn to loathe. it's okay to seek comfort, isn't it? no one could judge you. you can't judge yourself, either. you've been through so much — now and in the past — what's wrong with accepting the sweet fruit he's tempted you with?

you latch yourself to him. it isn't graceful or romantic, it's clinging to the lifeline that pushed you overboard to begin with. he lets out a soft sound at the ferocity of your grip. anyone else would've been knocked over by the sheer exertion of force, but chrollo didn't even budge. he must decide to discern the specifics later as he doesn't prod at you with questions. no, he reciprocates the embrace with an ardor that would've sickened you any other time.

you're babbling incoherently and yet he picks up enough to hazard a guess at what brought this about. he reassures you that he'd never harm you, that the thought alone makes him feel emotions he thought himself incapable of. he hugs you close, rubs his hands over your back, presses lingering kisses to your temple, and shushes you.

exhaustion catches up near the final tears you've shed. chrollo keeps himself still so as not to disturb you when you fall unconscious. he picks you up gently, brings you back to your side of the bed and puts you down. fondness envelops his heart at your now peaceful visage. he smooths out a stray hair cascading down your face.

all he intended to do was make a quick phone call, but coming back to you, with your glassy eyes and trembling lips, essentially attaching yourself to him like he's your sole source of comfort ... he might need to pinch himself to ensure he isn't dreaming.

[yandere-daydreams]

Hi! I wanted to say that I really love your blog! And you post so regularly like xhxjaj soo I hope I am doing this correctly bUT -how fucked up would be clumsy, student darling with schoolnurse yandere? You know, they say that he's really soft, nice and perfect for his job, but is he? or maybe the darling never actually was clumsy, but then why is she falling down the stairs so often~? Have a good day and take care! ❤❤

One day, I’m going to get tired of writing for faceless OCs before never thinking about them again. That day is not today. Assume this is, like, a fancy, private boarding school, so our Yandere will be able to afford to keep a Darling.

TW: Unintentional Drug Use and Emotional Manipulation.

~

You’ve been getting headaches, recently.

It was a minor inconvenience, honestly, something you shouldn’t have been fazed by. There were people in the hospital with terminal diseases, others lost limbs to illnesses, and here you were, complaining about a steady drumming somewhere in your skull, the pain just barely enough to make you grit your teeth and consider avoiding bright lights. But, it was still pain, very consistent, very intense pain. The kind that made your thoughts blur together and your movements sluggish, your craving for a dark, silent room quickly becoming greater than any you held for food or water. Maybe if they only lasted for a few minutes, you’d be able to brush it off, but you’d been through this too many times to be that optimistic. You’d have to skip your next class. The rest of the day, probably.

You’d have to see him again.

There wasn’t anything wrong with the school nurse, or... Bailey, as he insisted you call him. He was young, sure, only having graduated a couple years before you enrolled, but he was polite, and more than willing to accept poorly-forged passes and half-hearted excuses for any vague, temporary sickness students came to him with. You didn’t have a reason to lie, the pale pink slip in your hand genuine and unwanted, but as you pushed open the old, wooden door to his clinic, you almost wished you had something worse. An open wound, one bad enough to need stitches, or a knee-buckling, excruciating pain that let your instructors send you back to your dorm without a second thought. Instead, you were left to shift your weight and read the brightly-colored, informational posters hanging on every available surface, Bailey not seeming to care for plain walls.

It took Bailey a few seconds to notice you, the man preoccupied with something on his desk. The clinic was a cramped space, with just enough room for a table, a handful of cots and curtains, and a rolling chair that must’ve used up most of Bailey’s funding. You cringed as you took in the florescent lights, and that seemed to catch Bailey’s attention, his chair creaking as he twisted around to see you. You nodded politely as he took in your hunched posture and disheveled uniform, only to finish his evaluation with a simple nod. “(Y/n),” He greeted, already reaching towards one of the cabinets above his desk. “There should be an open cot near the back, lie down. Migraines again?”

“I don’t really need to. It‘s just a headache,” You explained, but your protests were barely audible. By the time you hauled yourself past him, you were ready to collapse, all-but throwing yourself onto the thin, cheap mattress. Your head was pounding, by now, a rhythm forming between the aches and throbs and red-hot bolts being driven into your skull. You curled into yourself as soon as you were able to, your dignity discarded in favor of blocking out the light and wallowing in your own self-pity. “Just a really, really bad headache. I shouldn’t have--”

“You shouldn’t have left class?” He chuckled, lightly, finding the pill bottle he was looking for. The container was the non-descript type, plain and colorless, with just the prescription’s name and a tablet count in boring, black ink. Your family had sent it, after they were told about your ‘issue’, even if you never told them about your little medical problem directly. You didn’t care enough to pry, though, not when you were desperate enough to need them. “You’re the only patient I have who wants to be stuffed inside a lecture hall, and something’s actually wrong with you! If I didn’t know you were such an academic, I’d be insulted.”

“I don’t want my grades to drop.” It was a pathetic excuse at keeping up the conversation, but Bailey just hummed, standing slowly and making his way to your cot. He was still smiling as he handed over the two thick, circular pills you were looking for, and you swallowed them down without hesitation, barely noticing the chalky residue they left on your tongue. You fell back onto your side as the pain began to reside, replaced by a cool, crisp exhaustion, one you welcomed without hesitation.

That was usually where Bailey took his leave, laughing and making a comment about your dependence before returning to paperwork and leaving you to your misery, but you weren’t alarmed when he took a seat at your side instead, a palm coming to rest on your shoulder. You couldn’t be, not really. You were too relieved to worry. “Such a little busy-body,” He started, his demeanor soft, gentle. It was nice, and you melted into it quickly. “All this is probably caused by stress, y’know. The headaches would probably go away if you took a break every now and then.”

You shook your head, weakly, and Bailey took to combing through your hair, pushing it away from your face. “I‘m not stressed… I like being busy. I’m used to it.”

“You like burning yourself out.” There was a slight tug, just strong enough to make you whimper and fight the temptation to push him back. Another laugh, this one much less hidden than the last. “You’re going to a university after you graduate, aren’t you?” You nodded, opening your mouth to clarify, but he continued before you had the chance to speak. He didn’t seem very interested in the specifics of your response. “More stress, honey, that’s more stress. And I’m not going to be here to take care of you, anymore.”

You frowned. More stress meant more headaches, more of this. Bailey still sounded happy, but you couldn’t tell if he was smiling. You were too tired to open your eyes. “Will it hurt?”

“Of course it’ll hurt. As long as I’m not there, everything will hurt.” He pulled away, leaving you to lazily search for his warmth. Luckily, Bailey only left you to suffer for a moment. Just as you considered pushing yourself up, an arm wrapped around your torso, pulling you closer to him and letting you rest your head in his lap, where he was free to stare at and play with whatever he’d like, and you could burrow into something soft, ignoring the apprehension beginning to surface inside your chest. The world was fuzzy and quiet and warm, and nothing could go wrong, not if you were in the clinic. “You’re a good kid, but you won’t behave, you won’t stop being such a try-hard unless someone else gives you a chance to. You need to relax, and let me handle this for you. The world is cold, and it’s brutal. You don’t want to be on your own in that kind of chaos, do you?”

Your reply came in the form of a wordless, abstract whine, this time, something dark and loving slowly taking over your consciousness. You weren’t falling asleep. You didn’t want to sleep. You wanted to be held and comforted and cared for, as long as it meant you didn’t have to move. That felt like a death sentence, now. How’d you gotten here without breaking?

Bailey’s voice was so sweet, too, with all the delicate, practiced inflections and tones of someone who’d done this many times before. That of a caretaker looking for his next project.

“All you have to do is leave the hard work to me,” He assured, cupping your cheek. You couldn’t bring yourself to pull away. “It’d be a shame if something bad had to happen to my favorite patient.”

[yandere-daydreams]

um. could i get a yandere momo from bnha with a fem darling? the two would have been friends for a while, but momo had feelings for the darling, which the darling didn’t return. if that’s ok.

Just for clarification, Momo is an ‘upperclassman’ who graduated a few years ago, and her Darling is still in their last year. I really wanted to go for that mentor/student vibe, so…

Momo was always so, so sweet.

As a young Pro-Hero, still taking any patrols shifts, emergency calls, and press conferences offered to her, you hadn’t expected Momo to answer your call, much less agree to host you for a tutoring session so close to finals season. But, she didn’t hesitate, inviting you over as soon as you explained you needed help, answering the door to her apartment with a smile on her face and tea already boiling on the stove.

Because she was nice, like that. Because she cared about you.

“(Y/n), are you paying attention?” Momo pulled you out of your temporary daze, back to the paper she was propping up. An average study sheet, something about ethics when it comes to the treatment of villains. Not the most interesting topic, to say the least. You shook your head, biting your lip nervously, but Momo just smiled, as gentle as she ever was. “Let’s start with something simple, then… would a Hero be able to detain a villain without publicizing their arrest?”

You hesitated, forcing yourself not to glance at once of the textbooks littered around the table. Instead, you sighed, grabbing a mug off the table and taking a sip as you spoke. “No, not unless the villain is A-Rank or above. It’d be dangerous to disclose their real name, just in case someone goes after their family members. Witnesses and Villains who turned themselves in can be exempted, too.”

“Such a smart pupil,” Momo praised, another smile making your heart jump. It was surprising, how a simple compliment from her could make you panic. But, that never stopped her, smiling as she continued. “You’re a natural-born Hero, y’know. You’ve got the mind of one.”

She was looking directly at you, know, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet her eyes, just rubbing the back of your neck and opening your mouth to properly stutter out a response. But, your mentor didn’t give you the chance, her hand coming up to cup your cheek, silencing you immediately. Soon, fingers were brushing past your thigh, Momo leaning forward, her eyes closing as you short-circuited. Then…

Then Momo was kissing you.

It took you a second to realize what was going on, your hands coming up to rest on her shoulders, but not daring to push her away. Her lips were soft, welcomingly so, glossy and smooth and sweet, delicate yet forceful as they pressed against yours. It was a shallow, gentle kiss, but long and lingering all the same. You could feel Momo smiling, as she pulled away, still supporting herself on your thighs as she straightened her back. “My pretty little Hero.”

You were stunned, swallowing dryly before responding. Part of you felt like glancing around, looking for the cameras that had to be hidden around the room. It was a joke, a prank, something you two would laugh at in a few minutes. “I’m sorry, I don’t…” You chuckled, softly, trying to play it off with as much grace as you were capable of. “Real funny, alright? I get it, I’m gullible, very funny. Who put you up to-”

“(Y/n).” Her tone was harsher now, authoritative, smile replaced by a tight, confused frown. The hand on your cheek played with the idea of pulling away, but only entangled itself further in your hair, tilting your head back to face her. “This is real, I promise, no one else even knows you’re here.” She paused, a blushing rising to her cheeks. “I’ve always wanted to say this… I love you, so much. I have been since the day we met.”

It was getting harder and harder to take this lightly, your heart only speeding up further. Must’ve been your nerves, fucking anxiety. “Yaomomo, ma’am, I… you’re like my teacher,” You tried to explain, the syllables slurring together and blurring as you spit them out. Momo hummed, as if sensing your distress, but she made no attempt to stop you. “No, this is wrong. I think you’re a lovely, beautiful person, and I look up to a lot, but I don’t-”

Momo let out a long, deep sigh, cutting you off. “You don’t love me. I know.”

“You do?” This time, you dared to meet Momo’s eyes, almost stunned by how neutral they were. There was no anger, or disappointment, or… or much of anything, actually. “Why did you kiss me?”

“I hoped you would be kind enough to make this easy. Let me confess, politely accept, then fall asleep in my arms willingly.” As if on cue, black spots appeared in your vision, only multiplying as you tried to blink them away. You head pounded, your thoughts suddenly hard to put together, full sentences seeming distant, impossible. “But, you’re too… honest, to go along with something like that. I like that about you, it’s adorable how trusting you are, but that doesn’t mean you never try my patience.” There was a strong jerk to the hair in Momo’s hold, but you could hardly feel the pain that should’ve followed, numbness spreading through your scalp as the Heroine pulled you into her arms, cradling your head against her chest. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be, please. You’ll be in enough pain when you wake up.”

“What did you-” The question caught in your throat, a surge of something sharp cutting your mind as you screamed silently, any sounds you could’ve made muffled by soft, scratchy fabric. Still, you tried, the words coming out too quiet and too loud at the same time. “Why are you… it hurts. Why does it hurt?”

“Because you’re struggling, baby. Just relax, let me take care of this.” You weren’t sure when she’d started rubbing your back, but thin, nimble fingers were soon kneading at the tense muscles, rubbing the resistance out of your body. You couldn’t name the point when you started relaxing into her, either, but you found talking more trouble than it was worth when Momo wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you into her lap. You never realized how... strong she was, before that. How moldable you were in her hands. 

You couldn’t feel your skin on hers, your eyes refusing to open after you let them close. You could hear Momo talking, just barely. She was going on about your room, or how hard it was to find a tea that would cover the taste of… of something. The actual message was damn-near incomprehensible.

But, her voice came through clearly. That soft, familiar, comforting voice. 

Even if it was a little more bitter than you remembered.