#d gray man fic

[yourteght]

» UM LUGAR PARA VOLTAR — capa teste

⟅07.04.2024 — eu achei a minha primeira capa desse casal muito xoxa para o tanto que eu amo eles ENTÃO eu fui lá e fiz uma outra que creio que minhas vozes da cabeça não vão me sabotar :) eu estou totalmente apaixonado por capas mais terrosas que faço normalmente, não sei se repararam mas eu estou impossível, eu tenho alguma coisa com essa cor gente, ela me deixa tão tão mais motivado pra capar que cês não tem ideia <3 eu queria alguma coisa que me remetesse a algo muito distante e a cartas, acho que fiz um dos fundos mais lindos da minha carreira de capista com essa capa, eu acredito que nunca mais vou fazer um fundo tão lindo quanto esse e eu não to bem :'D muito dos recursos que usei foram do Pinterest com as dicas do @shibuinni3 nesse post aqui ☆ (muito obrigado, chuchu). Sobre a capa, o que dizer? Ela é fruto de um surto de domingo à tarde, as minhas capas mais bonitas nasceram assim e com essa não é diferente, eu amei cada segundo :3

[legitimatesatanspawn]

So many times the non-main characters of the good side which is fighting the evil side turns out to be actually WORSE than the evil side. Yet that doesn't automatically make the evil side good in spite of what fandoms would insist.

So many settings I could be calling out but I'm specifically glaring at D.Gray-Man and Hero Academia right now.

[yellowplumfruit]

replaying dating sims is reminding me of when 13 yr old me would write fan fiction about (extremely out of character) fictional anime men comforting an oc (me) that i would shoehorn into the original plot as the new main character and in a way nothing has changed

[cinammonelles]

I was going through old screenshots in my gallery a while back and i found this

And it awakened something in me so I speedwrote this in feverish daze

[keep-strange]

After rewatching D. Gray-man (and rereading manga :D) I suddenly realized myself shipping Arystar and Allen.

Two mounth have passed and I'm still shipping them. So after quite unsuccessful searching of any content I've decided to create it by myself.

I've wrote a little fanfic in Russian (because it's my native) and if there is any who wants to read it, you could find it here: Link on AO3 (1440 words) Relationships: Arystar Krory/Allen Walker And also... I used to be an artist. So here id a litlle preview of what I'm working on:

So, please, wish me good luck with them. Hope I will do as much my plans as I can.

[arimiaromage]

well guess I'll post the NeaPasta fic I won't finish lolll. I'm not used to writing in this format (I normally write in 1st person script format) so apologies for the scuff

a Bookman and a Noah find themselves together one moonlight night...

"Bookman, show me how to dance."

Allen turned around towards the voice with a wry look on his face. His expression was only somewhat hidden underneath his wide-brimmed glasses and the low lighting of night. Nea was leaning against an illuminated window sill, arms crossed. But instead of his usual cocky grin, a thin scowl hung on his lips.

"...Why?" The words left Allen’s mouth cautiously.

Allen squinted at him, trying to discern what kind of trick this was. This was Nea we’re talking about, after all. Despite being raised as a noble with more confidence than a king, Nea didn’t have an elegant bone in his body. The Noah—and Katerina—had long given up trying to set him up with a lovely lady. This had to be a joke.

Nea’s scowl turned into a grimace.

"Because the Noah want to have some kind of damn ball for our 17th birthday."

Allen put a hand on his hip. "And you didn’t protest?"

"..."

Nea’s eyes darted away.

"Mana agreed to it."

Allen sighed. There it is. Mana "agreeing" to it probably meant Mana thought it sounded fun, and with Mana so happy-looking there was no way Nea could just not go along with it.

Nea scoffed, fiddling with his cuffs. His eyebrows were upturned, but there was something more begrudging about his demeanor tonight. Something more... impatient. High strung.

Oh my God, Allen thought. He’s serious.

Allen sighed, "...And you think I’m going to teach you? Why not ask your family?"

"Not going to happen", Nea glared.

Allen rearranged some of the books on his desk, looking downwards to hide his grin.

"I’m sure Road would be happy to help."

"No."

"Why not wing it like you normally do, stepping on people's feet until no one offers a dance?"

"I’m leaving."

"Wait!" Allen interjected.

His voice was a little too quick, a little too loud. Nea stopped in his tracks but left Allen speechless.

A stillness overtook the room as the two silently stared at each other. Allen’s heart quickened by the second.

"...Fine."

He straightened up, pressing against his vest and fixing his posture. A silent sigh. Calm down, he thought—the two had pledged to save the world together, so how bad could a late night dance be? Nea was more than capable in a fight. A few choreographed steps shouldn’t be that hard for him.

Still... There was something rising in his chest. Apprehension? Trepidation?

Allen stepped towards a table against the wall where his record player was. A few moments later and a quiet hum filled the room as piano keys started to play.

He exhaled once more, slower this time. And then he smiled.

"This’ll be good for my notes. ‘Can Noah pick up any new skill or are they helpless to change’?"

Nea held his hand out, his typical confidence returning.

"We’ll see about that."

Allen took Nea’s hand in his, becoming self conscious at how warm Nea’s were compared to his own clammy hands. Despite all of his physical training, Nea’s fingers weren’t coarse—they were smooth and slender, just like a pianists’ should be. As if he’d never had to fight before. As if he really was just a rich kid. The feeling in his chest only became more pronounced.

Nea cleared his throat, making Allen almost jump. "And?"

Allen brought his gaze to Nea’s shoulders, but couldn’t manage any higher. It’s because Nea had such a strong gaze, especially up close- yeah, that’s it, Allen told himself.

"One person puts their hand on the other person’s chest or shoulder-" Allen laid his hand on Nea’s right shoulder. "-and the other puts their hand on the person’s back, below their shoulder blade."

Much to Allen’s chagrin, Nea cupped his waist in his hand.

Allen fixed his own posture. "Stand straight."

Nea muttered a curse under his breath.

Piano notes from the major key spun around in the moonlit room. Allen took the first step. He guided Nea past his desk, each step precise.

Allen's quaint study had at first seemed too small for the pair, but with his careful guidance, the room felt like a ballroom. Two steps to the left, one backwards, one right, two forwards, and so on. As the music calmed his nerves, he eased up and let the rhythm take control.

A Noah and a Bookman, hand in hand, for none of the world to see except the moon.

In the corner of the room, a haphazardly thrown together suitcase sat open. One half had books & snacks neatly strapped down while the other side had clothes strewn about.

Nea looked back at him. "Aren’t you leaving at the end of the month?"

Allen sighed, "I was, but it looks like I’ll be leaving this weekend instead. The sooner I’m gone, the sooner I’ll get back, though."

His gaze wandered off, looking past Nea.

"Another country, another war."

"..."

He feinted a small laugh.

"If my train gets delayed any, the war might be over before I even get there."

The pair made a turn together, maneuvering around a large oak desk. A glint crossed Nea’s eyes as he opened his mouth.

"What will your name be this time?"

Allen narrowed his eyes at Nea with a thin smile on his lips. "I can’t tell you that."

Nea frowned.

"Why not? I won’t be anywhere near the place."

"You’re not involved with the record. I’m not breaking tradition."

"What if I guess it?"

"Hmm... No."

Nea leaned closer.

"I bet you haven’t even figured out a name yet."

Allen paused for a moment. Bullseye.

"...I won’t be telling it to you, so what does it matter?"

Nea threw his head back and laughed.

"What does it matter? You’ll be on a train coming back to Edinstown before you come up with a name you like! You’re so damn picky!"

The music changed time signatures. Their steps quickened to match the new pace.

"I’m not picky! I just refuse to be called anything that’s not... fitting."

Even though he tried to choose his words carefully, Nea lunged at the hesitation.

"So is ‘Allen’ a fitting name or just something you settled for to shut me up?"

Nea’s eyes were penetrating. Although there was a smile on his lips, it was sharp, his words ready to cut any indecisiveness.

Allen stepped back, leading Nea with him. He tried to scoff the idea off.

"I went with it, didn’t I?"

Taking the lead, Nea guided him back towards the window. Their faces were illuminated by the moonlight, only further showcasing Allen struggling to come up with words.

"Because I insisted?"

Nea hadn’t insisted and knew he hadn’t, but it backed Allen up even further into a corner.

When the young Bookman junior had traveled to Edinstown several years prior, tasked to document the unnatural occurrence of the Earl going missing, he hadn’t a name for the mission. Each story required a new identity to go with the record- a new lie for himself to adopt that would be solidified as the name of the record. And yet, when he arrived in Scotland for presumably the longest mission of his life, he couldn’t decide.

Bookman had always told him not to get sentimental, that names were things to pick up and throw away at the drop of a hat. The only part of it that would stick was the name of the record. But even after years of having heard it, "Allen" found that hard to swallow. If anything, his travels made it harder for him to accept it as fact.

Names were gifts. They gave people not only a sense of belonging in their communities, but a sense of self. They cemented their existence.

"Allen" had long since thrown away countless names, but the people he had encountered in those times hadn’t. Of all of the people he had met prior, there had to be at least a couple that still remembered him by those discarded names. Right?

That brief sense of existential dread is what lingered over "Allen" as a young boy when he first walked through the town. What would he want to be known as for however many years he was here? For all he knew, he might spend the rest of his life working on this mission—the Earl was 7000 years old, after all.

Despite all of his late night pondering, he was introduced to the young twins without a name- something Nea couldn’t fathom.

"Why don’t you have a name?"

The Bookman junior shifted uneasily but made an effort to put on his best face.

"I’ll have a name soon."

Nea didn’t buy it.

"You weren’t born with one? Why didn’t your parents give you one?" He questioned.

Had it been an adult asking him this or a child even younger than him, the Bookman junior would’ve shrugged it off. But being pestered about it by someone his own age was something new and uncomfortable.

"They did! ...But I...I want to go by a different one."

How could he explain the intricacies of a Bookman’s life? He had seen enough to understand that his life was a completely different existence than other humans.

Seeing the Bookman junior’s discomfort, the older twin interjected.

"When you know what you want us to call you, just let us know."

Mana’s smile felt a tinge sweeter when put next to his brother’s uncouth look.

Nea flippantly shrugged.

"Yeah, yeah. Just don’t take too long."

And so, the junior stayed with the Campbells for a time without a name. A proper name, that is, as Nea bombarded him with nicknames, each sticking less than the previous one.

"If you don’t give us a name, I’m going to put ‘four eyes’ on all of your stuff."

The junior swatted Nea away.

"I told you to call me Bookman! Why isn’t that good enough for you?"

Nea just folded his arms.

"That’s not a name, that’s a title."

From across the room, Mana chirped in.

"We call the older man Bookman, so why don’t we call you Junior?"

He shot a glare at Mana.

"No. I’m not going to have people my age call me just ‘junior’."

Nea grinned.

"Sounds just like something that a junior would say."

The Bookman junior jumped to his feet and chased Nea around the room, trying to hit him with his book. It was hard to hear what he was yelling at him over Nea’s own laughter.

...

A strong gust from the North rippled through the wheat field, making the golden sea shine extra bright in the sunlight. Sunny days like these were soon to be a rarity as fall set in, but for the moment the boys enjoyed their time outside under the broad limbs of Cornelia.

The young Noah stretched out, yawning.

"I don’t wanna go."

He said this lazily, almost aimlessly noncommittal, throwing his hand out in swishing motion.

The Bookman junior sighed.

"The Noah clan invited you to dinner. It’s best if you attend."

Nea groaned, "But I don’t like them!"

The junior readjusted his glasses, trying to come up with the quickest way to end this conversation- the same conversation they’d already had several times over.

"You’re a Noah now. You can’t just avoid your family."

Nea snorted.

"Sure I can. I’m doing a pretty good job at that now."

With the strong shadows underneath Cornelia’s branches and Nea’s head being turned, the junior couldn’t make out his expression.

"...I don’t want to go without Mana."

Nea’s gaze was set on the far off horizon, ever out of reach.

His voice was quiet as he muttered, "Why am I a Noah?"

He reached his hand out. His fingertips grazed the golden wheat fluttering in the wind.

"What’s the point of me having a near immortal body if Mana can’t even leave the house?"

The junior looked down at the book in his lap and silently closed it. He’d heard people curse the heavens; he’d seen people pass away; he’d even been witness to mindless violence, all in the name of recording history. But there was something about Nea’s small voice that made him feel a tinge of shame.

He wasn’t a doctor, but... Sitting here under the broad shade of Cornelia, with the vast blue sky cloudless in front of them...

"I feel so helpless."

The words were uttered once and carried away in the wind as soon as they left Nea’s lips. They were never meant for anyone’s ears but the junior heard them regardless.

"..."

Allen looked out over the vast field ahead of them and then back towards the house where Katerina was attending to Mana. Out here, the problem seemed so far away...

"Then live for him."

Before he knew it, he was trying to comfort Nea. They managed to shift the conversation away, talking about the flowers blooming and what boring event the Noah would drag Nea to and even what was for dinner. Anything to get their minds off of Mana's looming sickness. —Anything so Allen didn't have to record those tears.

[rensply]

Referencing this

No, seriously, I absolutely adore Nea Campbell

[lady-lilly-gray]

"they're coming from all sides"

"just the way I like them"

DAISYA

[excalisi]

Title: Dimension Hoppers Do PDA In Front Of Victorian Era Teenager! What Happens Next Will Shock You!

Fandom: D.Gray-man, Bleach

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationship/Characters: Kurosaki Ichigo/Urahara Kisuke, Allen Walker, Kurosaki Ichigo, Urahara Kisuke

Rating: T

Word count: 1586

Tags: Crossover, Pre-Canon, Attempt at Humor, Light Angst, gratuitous description of uraichi's reiatsu/souls, accidental character study

Written for Uraichi Prompt Challenge 7 for the prompt "Souls".

Summary: The one with the black soul was bristling like a cat whose fur was petted in the wrong direction. 

“You’ve been staring at us for the past five minutes,” he snapped. “What is it?”

The other one, in the striped hat, said nothing, smiling without conveying any particular emotion. A rush of immediate and inexplicable annoyance crashed over Allen, and he eyed him warily. This guy smiled like a con man. Allen, of all people, would be able to tell.

Allen contemplated just walking away without a response. But no, he was trying to be more polite or whatever. He had to at least say something.

“Just fucking kiss already, by the grace of God,” Allen said.

[lavibookmansflatass]

Got about 200-500 words down in What Makes Us Human and even reread the new chapter....

[faeriexqueen]

So, I finished chapter 8 of my “Romeo and Juliet” fic for Tyki and Alma. I’m starting 9 tomorrow (or maybe tonight, if I don’t crash soon), but I wanted to share an excerpt for it. It’s not too spoilery, but features Cross since he’ll be a player in this fic (and I realized I don’t ever write him really? Like, ever?). Tyki, of course, shows up too. :3 Anyways, for anyone interested, here’s a snippet from chapter 4. :3 (And as always, my inbox is open for anyone who wants to message me about this fic. XD) Enjoy! ^^ Chapter 4 Excerpt: Cross didn’t care for confession. In fact, it was one of his least favorite responsibilities to deal with as a priest. Years ago, when he had started his journey of piety, he might have found it of some interest — hearing others divulge what secrets plagued them in the darkest parts of night. Some were quite unfortunate — tales of lust, theft, gambling. All terribly human when it came down to it. And nothing that Cross could say he was unfamiliar with himself. He couldn’t help but feel that there were worse things in life. But, Cross wasn’t entirely sure as to where that left him.

He kept hidden in the confessional box, the air a bit too hot and stuffy for his liking. Some poor soul on the other side of the confessional had just poured their heart out about having lied to their mate, the confessor having denied being attracted to an alpha they had met briefly. Apparently, their partner being beta could only fulfill so many of their needs. Cross exhaled, the sound low and heavy. He was tired of listening, but for the sake of his practice had to attempt to sound like he gave a damn. “It is normal for us to be attracted to others, even when mated,” he grunted. “But you’ve bonded yourself to your mate — you cannot break that.” The confessor faltered — a young omega. “It’s just…” She faltered, words timid — even a bit fearful. “I…keep asking myself if there’s a way to break it? I know it’s not orthodox, but…” “It’s not orthodox in the church. You won’t find approval if that is what you’re seeking,” Cross stated, words potentially too blunt. “No one here can condone breaking what God deems sacred.” The omega sighed. “I know…” Cross massaged his temple, exasperated. His brow furrowed, head aching dully — his punishment for engaging in some of his own vices the night prior. “If you want to save yourself trouble, say what you need to your mate. Otherwise, it’ll only get harder,” he warned. “Ultimately, whatever choice you make will be between you and God.” Another sigh. “I understand,” the omega said. “Thank you, Father.” The curtain pulled back, the confessor taking leave. Cross took a moment to stretch his neck, still crammed into the confessional box. He thought of slipping out, before anyone else had a chance to enter the connecting space. However, Cross’s plans were foiled as soon as he heard the curtain rustle, someone taking a seat in the box. A small curse lingered on the tip of Cross’s tongue. He forced himself to swallow his irritation as he kept silent, waiting for the new confessor to speak. Faintly, Cross caught the scent of cedar and patchouli — something familiar, before the new confessor spoke. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” Cross recognized the confessor immediately, his lips tugging into a frown. He did well to keep his voice a low grumble. “Have you come to actually confess something or are you just here to make my job more difficult?” Tyki chuckled, amusement apparent even when Cross couldn’t see him. “I might have something to confess,” he spoke. “You know how I am when it comes to indulging in pleasurable vices.” Cross scoffed. “Any other priest would be taking that a lot more seriously.” “You don’t?” Cross scowled. He was prepared to spit back another comment, but Tyki spoke, words hushed. “Is there somewhere I can hide for a bit? I can only act like I’m praying for so long. Being in a stuffy box doesn’t help, either.” Cross huffed. “Hell, if I know. But I’m busy—" “Tsk. Such crass language from a priest,” Tyki chided. “But, really — is that wine I smell? Somehow, I don’t think it’s from communion.” “Just shut your mouth already,” Cross grumbled. His dark eyes lingered on the small, gated wall separating them. “Go up to the gallery — I’ll meet you there. At least, as long as no one else comes in here after you.” Tyki didn’t say anything more, though Cross heard him slip out of the confessional box. He waited just a few moments, ensuring that no one else would come in to confess. When Cross was convinced he was in the clear, he stepped out from his box, discreet and quiet. Briefly, he scanned the nave; there was another priest speaking with an individual and a few people still in prayer, but otherwise, the space was close to empty. Good. Cross didn’t need to deal with anymore responsibilities than necessary.

[yourteght]

» CONTRASTE — capa teste

⟅28.09.2023 — voltando para minha saga de capinhas do meu manga favorito, acho que posso dizer que amo o protagonista agora né? me identifico tanto com ele, pode se dizer que seja principalmente no azar, pq oh vida para dar em nós! e espero passar por todas essas coisas como ele faz.

[skywalkersolos-blog]

D-Gray man fic cover

[inviktales]

➤ Rex Tremendæ Majestatis

Fandom: D. Gray-Man

Chapters: 4 / 4

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: None

Relationships: Cross Marian / Allen Walker

Characters: Cross Marian, Allen Walker, Kanda Yuu, Tyki Mikk, Original Character(s), other background characters

Additional Tags: Crossdressing, Corsets, Magic Breasts, Undercover, Undercover as Married, Eventual Smut, Minor Character Death, Character Death, Original Character Death(s), Implied/Referenced S.xual Assault, Gambling

"And I suppose you’re going to tell me this mission is a two-man job?" In which Cross and Allen return to the Black Order after suspicion is lifted from them and are sent on a mission wherein Allen must pretend to be Cross's wife, and corsets are awful.

[fanaticsnail]

You're The Cure

Masterlist Here, Pollen Masterlist here

Word Count: 4,300+

Synopsis: Law bought you a pretty flower from a port, wanting to impress you with it, and perhaps use it as a courting gift should you want him. As the Polar Tang's Herbalist, you know there is more to this flower than meets the eye. Trafalgar Law got more than what he bargained for with this little gift.

Themes: Pollen!Law x afab!reader, dubcon, desperate Law, Smut, mdni, NSFW, 18+ content, solo Law, edging, premature ejaculation, creampie, fluff

Notes: This little fic was brought to you by an incredibly recent ask that took control of my laptop. @sweetly-sicken, thank you for your ask - I hope you enjoy. @sordidmusings, @feral-artistry come get your man. He needs help (and thank you both for your help and your ears today while I wrote it).

Tag List: @sordidmusings @since-im-already-here @writingmysanity @feral-artistry @gingernut1314 @vespidphoenix @carrotsunshine @i-am-vita @mfreedomstuff @sexc-snail

Hunched over the desk in the greenhouse aboard the Polar Tang, Trafalgar D Water-Law scrunched his eyes tightly shut and sucked his bottom lip into his mouth. His body was alight with a foreign passion he had never seen make it's equal. His clothes scratched and ignited his skin, the material of his heavy jacket weighing down his torso under the thick shroud of gray. 

Peeling his hat from his body and tearing at the iron zipper of his coat, his body began moving on instinct alone. His mind was screaming at him for his appalling behavior as his hands scorched hot trails along the glistening skin on his stomach. Sweat poured from his temples, his lips parting and huffing as his hands moved at a will of their own below the waistband of his pants. 

As his right hand gripped his achingly hard cock, he viciously began pistonning it within his fist, writhing and thrusting within it to match his brutal pace. His left hand snaked its way up his chest, pinching and circling the peaked bud of his right nipple as he mewled in desperation. He felt the approach of an impending orgasm stampede him towards release, the relief of the finish line almost within sight as he continued abusing his shiny knob and pummeling his shaft. 

Just as he felt his body begin to tip its way over the edge, it fell away just as hastily. Panic wrote itself over his face: his eyes wide, his mouth agape with a thin trail saliva trickling down his chin in stringy strands. 

“No, no, no, no,” he begged, pleading at his body to respond to the stimuli, picking up the pace and attempted to seek out his impending eruption for the second time, “No-... f-fuck-... Please.” 

Choking his shaft, a momentary clarity sifted in his mind as his eyes snapped to the single, innocent, pale flower poking out of an unsuspecting, ceramic pot. The top of the flowers danced within the aura of the puffs of breath he was panting, the yellow hue of pollen tinting the air with a tang on his tongue and a burn in his nose. 

“It’s that f-fucking flower, isn't i-it?” he chastised himself in a harsh whisper, laying his right hand flat over the desk as he thrust into his vice-like grip, “F-Fuck, it's the f-flower. Fuck.”

The sweetness of his release was once again in sight as he scrunched his eyes tightly shut. He released his nipple from his fingers, gripping the steel rim of the desk as he continued to writhe into his fist. 

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh sh-shit,” he choked on his words, desperately chasing an end that only rewarded him by sprinting away from within his reaching grasp. Again, the panic seared through his mind as he doubled down on his efforts, “No, no, no, no-o!” 

Without any further thoughts about his elusive orgasm, he immediately elevated his left hand and splayed out his fingers. He growled out a desperate roar, his ink-tainted digits shaking as he attempted to activate his devil-fruit ability to expel the pollen like a foul demon from claiming his soul. 

“R-Room- Ah fuck!” he exclaimed, his body immediately flopping over the desk as his body doubled its efforts against his iron-will. The intensity of the spouted dust increased it's crippling hold over his body, burrowing down deeper into every aspect of his body. 

“Sh-Sh-... Sh-...” he arched his back, his brows knit in a tight furrowed concentration. Glancing at the flower once more, a pool of saliva began spilling over his bottom lip as sweat poured from his temple, “Sh-Shambles- AH NO!” 

His cock danced with unresolved release, twitching within his fist as the intensity of his desire amplified. The devil-fruit abilities were doused by the fiery spray of the pollen in his respiratory system and blood stream. His body was not responding to his commands to expel it from himself by the supernatural means, nor the natural. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chanted, falling back into the chair behind him and gyrating his hips rhythmically upwards to continue to match the pace of his pistoning fist. 

As a final ditch effort to release himself from not only this spell, but to force himself to cum into his fist, he attempted to activate his Haki. Scrunching his eyes shut tightly before opening them once activated, the sparks of energy he intended on seeking fogged his mind with too frantic a stimuli. 

Suddenly, he was aware of every white-hot wave of lust coursing through his veins. Everything ignited into a bright wave of light, his eyes not able to adjust to the flashes of the augmented hue. He shook his head, immediately shaking off the use of Haki from his widening eyes. 

“H-Help,” he choked out a whimpered whisper, “I n-need help.” He mewled out a keening sob, desperately chasing his high within his right palm. He thrust his left hand into his hair, balling the sweat-damp strands into his fist and cried out for his release. 

The bob in his thigh, the lightning bliss within reach again within the coiling band in his abdomen, everything was right there. Right there, until it wasn't. 

“C’mon, Law!” He roared at himself, chasing his high. He focussed his ministrations on his frenulum, pinching and flicking his hand over the tight band of flesh, “You can do this. Gotta keep strong for the team. C-Can’t lettem’ know. You're better than th-this.” 

He whined as his left hand once again chased the channels of his inked art up his chest, swirling his nipples beneath his calloused fingertips. 

“F-fuck, fuck, fuck!” he cried in desperation, his cock refusing to spill over even the smallest amount of precum over the slit, no relief in his release being welcomed into his hand, “Why can't I do this? I-I need-... Shit-... I need-... Mmmfph-... I need help.”

-

“Anyone seen our captain?” You asked the crew gathered in the communal dining space. Downturned lips, shrugs and soft shakes of the heads from your crewmates unified in their puzzlement. 

“Why? What's going on?” Bepo asked, his pale fur reflecting the buzzing illumines of the artificial light. 

“Oh, he said he had something for me, is all,” you smiled at Bepo, clapping your hand over his shoulder with a polite smile, “Something about a flower he picked up from that strange port earlier today. Wanted me to have a look, see if I could extract anything of it.”

Bepo let out a small squeak of joy, stifling further joy from fleeing from his lips by clapping his paw over his muzzle. He sought out the corners of your face, gauging your emotions responding to a gift from the captain. You shook your head at the large, fuzzy bear with a small smirk. 

“That kinda makes sense,” Penguin smirked up at you, shoveling his food into his lips and chomping down on the crunchy texture, “Seeing as though you're the herbal remedy spooky witch, and all. He's likely in your office, maybe even the greenhouse.”

“Herbalist, Pen,” you corrected him with a soft smirk and the shake of your head, “I didn't go to study permaculture, horticulture, botanical remedies alongside my bloody medical degree for you to refer to me as ‘herbal remedy spooky witch'.” 

Cackles erupted from the table around you, your own chuckle joining with the crew as you rose to your feet. Discarding the contents from your tray, you then placed the empty tray atop the metal shelf for the cleaning crew to easily manage. 

“Alright, family,” you called to your crewmen with a smile, “I'm off to take a look at that flower. I'll see you all for dinner later.”

“Bye, spooky witch,” Penguin chuckled at you, “Don't forget your broom on the way out.”

“Penguin!” Bepo scolded your hat-wearing crewman, prompting you to laugh in response. Shaking your head, you approached Penguin from behind, leaning down to lean into his ear with utter seriousness. 

“Be sure not to test this witch’s patience,” you smirked, purring into his ear in a sultry whisper. Penguin's blood ran cold, feeling the warm heat cascading from your body as your cool breath met with the shell of his ear, “Or I may curse you with something as sinister as impotence.” 

You laughed to yourself, turning and exiting the dining room to make your way towards your office. Noticing a dim light beneath the door, you cocked your head to the side as you narrowed your eyes. 

A small wave of tinted dust swirled beneath the door, your eyes widening at the hue of the pollen particles. You immediately reached into your boiler suit, seeking out your personal mushi-shell and raising it to your lips. 

“Bepo, you there?” You called to your fuzz-covered crewmate, “Important, honey. You there?” your snail jumped, Bepo’s voice expelling from the box with a hasty confirmation of, “I'm here, what's going on?”

“I need you to open the vents in the greenhouse and pump the room with clean air,” you ordered him, reaching for the door of your office and knocking on the cloudy glass of the window. 

Rough panting, cursing and growling echoed from a masculine voice from within the room, your heartbeat increasing the longer you were standing outside the door. You had read about this pollen, recognised the hue immediately beneath the crack in the door, and you knew almost exactly what sight was going to meet with your eyes as soon as you turned the door handle. 

“Bepo, did you flush the room?” You hastily hissed into the shell, a curt, “yes!” was confirmed in response. 

“Good job, sweety,” you praised him, before knitting your brows up in concern with a very cautious question, “Bepo?”

“Yes, Herbalist?” Bepo asked into the shell, “Is there anything else I can do for you? You sound kinda panicked.”

“I just-... I don't know how to put it plainer than this at the moment…” You trailed off, unsure of how to pose this question without further questions being asked of yourself, “...You're the captain's closest confidant, Bepo. Do you know if he's taken a lover aboard the ship? Anyone he fancies that might reciprocate his-... Uhh-... Affections?” 

A lull in the crackle prompted your heart to skip a few beats, patiently waiting for Bepo to answer your question. You were likely certain there were a few, including yourself, that took a shine to the broody and serious captain that manned the Heart-Pirates. You were aware of the cure for this disease he'd likely inflicted on himself, truly desiring to give him the treatment he'd actually consent to adhere to. 

This was pollen from the pale-lust plant, a plant that only the smallest amount of dust could amplify and magnify the sexual experience of the person who inhales it. It was usually manufactured into perfumes and body oils for those who wanted to ‘spice up’ their love lives. And your Captain had likely doused himself in it. 

“I'm not sure if it's my place to say, but from your tone of panic…” the shell muttered in Bepo’s calming cadence after several moments of silence, “...H-He hasn't ever thought about buying anyone aside you a gift at port before. A-And he really thought you'd like that flower he brought back for you.”

“Okay, Bepo,” you managed to choke out a small squeaked order, “I need you to block off all access to the botanical bay for the rest of the day. Captain's orders, okay? You're in charge.”

“Is everything okay? Do you need help-?” He questioned over the shell, you halting his voice by speaking over him. 

“-The captain is likely experiencing some systemic shock at the moment,” you confessed, adjusting your uniform at your neck in an attempt to stifle your blush, “Judging from the hue of the dust, it's likely the plant he brought back had an effect that I doubt he would've prepared himself for.” You bit your lip, truly concerned for Law's wellbeing within your office, “I need you to take charge until either I, or Captain Law, tell you otherwise. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

“Aye, sir,” Bepo’s practiced reply barked into the speaker, you could almost visualize the salute on the other side of the transponder. 

“Good boy,” you praised him, your hand moving down to the door handle and beginning to turn it, “I'm going to be out of contact for a while. I might still make it to dinner, but if I can't - please save me and the captain a plate!”

“Aye, sir!” he uttered again into the speaker, with a final, “Good luck with the captain!” Clicking aside the portable transponder, you thrust it into your pocket and shook aside your nerves. 

Hastily, you flung wide the door, turning immediately upon entering and facing the door as you clicked it locked behind you. As soon as you entered the space, the sounds of rough slapping of hands meeting skin, huffs of exasperated panting, groans and pleads falling from your captain's panicked lips alongside his panting mewls of pleasure flung themselves loudly and carelessly into the air. 

“Captain,” you whispered, your hands holding firm to the cloudy glass of your office door, “I know you're likely out of your own mind right now, but I'm going to tell you this anyway-.”

“-Fuck, what's happening to me? T-Tell me, please. Know I'm h-here. My h-head is here, I-I just-... ngmmh-...” he whined for you, the taste of your name tainting his tongue with desire and lust, “...don't judge me, please. I don't want this to change the image of myself in your head.”

Anticipation and a shameful wave of desire spread itself through your chest and ignited a throbbing need for your captain in your core. You knew this wouldn't be happening without this douse of pollen coursing through his veins, the raw need to chase his ecstacy within his fist behind you. 

“All th-this because I wanted t’get you a-... f-fucking gift t’ court you-...” Law confessed with a whispered hiss, his eyes raking over your body with lust and need, “...M’guessing this's from that f-fucking flower I got for you. Is-s there a cure?” 

A gasp flew from your lips at his confession, prompting you to almost glance over your shoulder at him. Deciding to give your captain a further shroud of decency, you halted your movement and chose your next words carefully. 

“There's no cure I can manufacture here, Sir,” you whisper over your shoulder, “But there is one that I know of-.”

“-F-Fuck, please get it. Whatever it is. Get the fucking cure before I lose the final bit of control I h-have,” he roared your name, barking his orders as the skid of the iron legs of the chair backwards, raking against the steel floor. You jumped in shock, the shifting of material scattering prompted you to become more aware of his feral urges further.  

Just as you began to turn your body to face your captain, two inked hands slammed against your own on the cloudy glass, prying them apart with a vice-like grip. Fingers laced between yours, his face fell in the crook of your shoulder as he deeply inhaled the scent of your perfume. He groaned at the feeling of his bare cock grinding in between the divet in your ass above your boiler suit, a shocked gasp fell from your lips in response. 

“Fuck you smell good,” he moaned, his lips latching on your pulse as his tongue swirled against you, “Taste even fucking better.” You whined as his teeth sunk into your neck, his rhythmic grinding not easing against your clothed flesh. 

His mind was hazy, his body was reacting to every subtle change in your voice and wavering breaths. As soon as you entered the room, it took all of his strength and will to not enter a state of frenzy and fuck into you with the deep ferocity of a wild beast. He owed you better than that. He wanted you to want him too, and if that meant holding onto his sanity by tooth and nail: so be it. 

“Captain-,” you gasped as his right hand left yours to paw at the front zipper of your jumpsuit. 

“-Law,” he growled his correction at you, “It’s Law, or anything other than my title or ‘sir’. Y-You-... fuck, sweetheart-... I n-need you. Please let me? Let me have you? Please?”

Slotting his hand over your chest, his fingers eagerly sought your left breast beneath the cup of your uniformed lingerie. He hastily rolled the peaked nub within his thumb, index and middle fingers; a cry of pleasure emanating from your throat as you threw your head back onto his shoulder. 

“We can talk about it later,” he whispered into your ear, pinching at your nipple as he bit your earlobe, “Know that I wanted you before all this-... F-fuck-...but I need you now.”

He hastily turned you in his arms, splitting the top part of your boiler suit back and shedding it from your body as he claimed your lips beneath his. Allowing his primal desires to take the reins, he continued breaking you out of your clothes to match his own nudity: pinning you against the door with his rutting hips. 

“What do I need to do? Tell me,” he moaned into your skin, his teeth catching on your own as you reciprocated his touch, “Guide me, my north star. Show me wh-what I gotta do.”

“Law,” you moaned for him, his body immediately pulling to you like iron to a magnet. Shedding the last of your clothes over your ankles, he used his feet to kick off your shoes. Cupping your thighs, he hoisted you into the air and hooked your knees over his hips. 

“My north star,” he moaned into your skin, his lips clinging to every amount of flesh exposed to him, “You're the cure. You're the cure, aren't you? My body is telling me you are.” You moaned for him as he carried you over to your desk, lying you on the cool surface and hovering over your body. 

“Anyone can be the cure for this, Law,” you confessed to him in a whimpering whisper, “It's the joining of bodies together that ends the torment. It's not me-.”

“-It is you,” he growled at you, hovering his lips just above yours and shaking from the amount of stress he placed himself under by holding back, “It's only ever been you. I need you. Better yet…” he lines his cock up with your glistening opening, the tip rubbing against your core prompting a small sob to exit from his lips. 

“...I crave you,” his arms shook beneath his weight, the sheen of sweat pooling from his temple beneath his only hair down to his whiskered chin, “Always wanted you. Let me have you. Please say you'll let me have you.”

“You have me,” you confessed, tracing your arms over his quivering forearms down to his hips, clawing him to draw him nearer. Guiding his cock within your entrance, you angle his hips as his brow sets deep within its furrow. 

“I feel like I'm gonna explode,” he confessed in a strangled whisper, “I-I’m sorry. I'm so, so sorry.” 

“It's okay, it's okay,” you soothed him with your calming voice, your thumbs pressing circular motions against his hip bones as he slid his cock to the hilt within you, “Use me, it's okay.”

As soon as the length of Law's cock slid to the back of your walls, he entered into a bliss he never would've imagined. His vision struck white, electricity sparking the flames of his encumbering lust as he shot you deep with spurts of his sticky cum. 

Barely having time to adjust to his size, he was already crying out for you. He immediately burst with his passionate release painting your gummy walls white, praising you for your gift to him while sobbing in deep pleas of anguish. 

“Fuck, I'm c-cumming. I'm f-fucking cumming. I'm already-...” He mewled your name, huffing as he barely began moving within you, “...I'm s-sorry, I'm so sorry. I-I-... hhah, fuck-... I'm sorry-... nngh- s-so good.”

You pawed at his ass, clutching onto his checks and held him deep within you, hips flush with your own. The twitches of his muscles all rippled with the expulsion of the final waves of his cum deep within you. 

“I'm sorry,” he repeated in a whisper, alongside chanting your name like a prayer, “I'm so sorry.”

“It's okay, love, I know,” you hushed him, his body collapsing atop your own and caging you beneath him on your desk. You drew your hands up to his damp hair, fingers brushing away the strands and cradling him close. 

Finally collecting his breath, his heartbeat slowing to a more forgiving beat, he refused to tear his face away from the crease of your neck and shoulder. Embarrassment at, not only, the hasty release of his cum within you had a red hue illuminating Law’s face. He was also appalled at the fact his surprise gift for you was a toxic aphrodisiac, one he fell within the snare of with no known cure. 

“Law, look at me,” you cooed down at him, prompting him to nuzzle his pouting face deeper into your skin. You tried your best to stifle your giggle to no avail - your laughter aimed at his utter childishness. 

“Law,” you chastised him, angling the heels of your palms down to collect his cheeks, “C’mon, love. Let me see those pretty eyes of yours. Look at me.”

He huffed out a breath of exasperation, finally tearing his face away from your shoulder and bringing his pouty face up to meet yours. His eyebrows were knit in a single point in the middle of his face, his eyes wide and filled with shame. 

“I'm sorry, herbalist,” he acknowledged your formal rank, his cock still deeply held within you, “I am better than this. I-I promise I'm better than this.” You arched a single brow up with your growing smirk. 

“Herbalist?” you parroted back at him, brushing your nose against his, “What happened to my name, or ‘my North Star’? I quite liked that one,” his blush deepened, the dark dusting of vibrant red cascading over his nose, cheeks and tips of his ears. 

“Well, what happened to ‘love’, huh? Where'd that go?” he quipped back at you, gliding his reducing cock out of your walls, releasing the floodgates of his excessive load of cum expelling from your pussy. He shifted himself away, glancing down at the expulsion of his cum dripping onto your office floor. 

“Fuck,” he shuddered out in a small whispered groan, “That was a bit more than I thought there would be. Room…” he extended his left hand upwards, the spatter on the floor and still within you vanishing with a further utterance of, “...Shambles.”

A small splash of water fell onto the floor, and a small spurt against your groin. You shot Law a quizzical look, prompting a smirk to rise on his cheeks. 

“I tried washing my face in your sink as soon as I got a waft of the flower dust in my face,” he shrugged before nodding his head over to your herbalist station, “Water was still in it.”

Smiling, you leant up with your elbows behind your back, looking at the man who was priorly all consumed with feral lust. He looked accusingly at the pale flower in the small pot beside your naturopathic remedial herbs, eyes narrowed and lip snarling. 

“It's the last time I'm buying you a fucking plant,” he muttered, turning to meet his eyes with yours, “Without checking with you first, of course,” he reached down with his right hand, smiling as you accepted his hand, “I want to buy you all the plants you could ever want,” he aided you to rise to your feet, guiding your hands to lace behind his neck. 

“Thank you, love,” you smiled at him, prompting his eyes to crease with his own joy at the return of your name for him. 

“Anything for my north star,” he pressed a gentle kiss atop your head, “My guiding light,” his lips trailed down to brush against the apple of your cheek, “My pretty map spiriting me home to hold you in my arms again,” he snaked his forearms around your waist, his smiling lips collecting yours beneath his. 

Parting your lips, he angled his head to the side and pressed several waves of passionate caresses against your mouth. He sucked in a sharp breath through his nose, dipping his knees to elevate you within the air, his smile widening at the small squeak of surprise you released from your mouth to his. 

He placed you onto the floor again, chasing your retreating lips as you arched your back to press your exposed chest against his. The warmth of your skin spread from your body onto his, the heat radiating from his body engulfing your own with a warm infusion of radiant bliss. 

“You absolute sappy romantic,” you teased him as you broke from the kiss shared with him, “Didn't know you had all that in you. You must really like me.”

Scoffing back his laughter at your taunt, he squeezed your body against his. You laughed at his playful expression, leaning up to press a small kiss against his whiskered chin. 

“Alright. Fuck you, you brat,” he laughed, his eyes twinkling with a mischievous grin, “I was gonna let you top me, use me to get your own release from me, but now- ohhhh, now,” he shuddered a sinister whisper down at you, “Now you're gonna get it.”

“I'm absolutely shaking,” you taunted him further, your teeth nipping at his jaw, “Shaking, quivering and cowering.”

“Not now, you're not,” he growled at you, lifting you within his arms and hooking your knees over his hips once more, “But you fucking will be when I'm done with you.”

[uvobreakmylegs]

Lamp of the Body

first part of a fic long in the making based on some stuff @hypnoswrites and I were discussing about Chrollo :D

Chrollo x female!reader

Part 2

Warnings: mentions of accidents, injury, isolation, mentions of strangulation

Word count: 6.3k

You were struggling to breathe.

You couldn't see anything.

Your heart was pounding hard against the inside of your chest.

You were scared.

Scared of what? You weren't sure. All you knew was that the adrenaline was rushing through your system while you panicked. And what furthered that panic was the fact that you couldn't move. You were stuck, laying on your back and frozen in place while all of your senses told you that you were in danger.

Then you noticed the figure sitting next to you.

It was too dark to make them out, but you saw their general shape and the way they leaned over you.

Once they realized that you had seen them, they moved.

A hand reached out, turning your face towards them before caressing your cheek in slow motions. An act that should have been comforting, but instead the panic in you worsened and you began to cry.

The figure did nothing to comfort you; they only wiped away the tears that fell. Despite that action that to most would have indicated some amount of care, you didn't feel anything like that when their skin brushed against yours.

They didn't care.

In such a vulnerable state, you were at the mercy of such a person, one who had no concern over your distress.

As if you were simply a spectacle to them.

They wiped away another tear in a robotic manner, and still said nothing when those tears continued.

It didn't seem real.

That was your first thought when you woke up in the morning, your eyes going over details in the bedroom: the thin bits of light showing through the cracks in the blinds, the soft rug that lay on the floor that you had picked out when you'd first moved here, and the door to the walk-in closet that was currently closed. If it had been open you would've seen both your own and Chrollo's clothes hanging inside of it.

At the thought of Chrollo, you looked to the other side of the bed, finding that your boyfriend was still there beside you. You took in the sight of his face, how peaceful his expression was and the way his bangs partially covered the tattoo on his forehead, only allowing little bits of the design to be seen through the black locks. It looked as though he was still fast asleep based on the way his eyes remained closed and how steadily his chest rose and fell with each breath. As much as you felt compelled to scoot over closer and cuddle up against him, in the past your boyfriend had proven to be an incredibly light sleeper and you worried that the action might wake him up.

With all that Chrollo had done for you, the man deserved to get as much sleep as he wanted.

As quietly as you could, you got out of bed and made your way over to the bathroom, periodically looking back over to Chrollo and finding him to still be asleep each time you did. But as you looked back at him one last time before entering the bathroom, you were once again struck by how it still didn't feel completely real, that you were able to look at the image of your sleeping boyfriend.

That you were able to look at anything at all.

The lights came on when you flipped the switch, and instinct had you closing your eyes as they adjusted to the light. When it no longer hurt to have your eyes open, you made your way over to the sink, covering your mouth to yawn before you looked at yourself in the mirror. The gray eyes of your reflection stared back at you, briefly flitting about as you took in the messy state of your hair and wrinkled sleep clothes before you went back to staring at your eyes.

Maybe some might find it weird to be referring to them as being “yours” considering that they were definitely not the eyes you'd been born with and had come from an unknown donor, but seeing that they'd been placed inside your skull, it seemed silly to say otherwise.

Still, to think that just a few months ago you hadn't been able to see at all, your original eyes permanently damaged because of that car accident.

You'd lived that way for almost a year, and after getting used to the world being in total darkness with only the images in your memory to go off of, it didn't seem real that you were able to see again.

You brought a hand up to your cheek, watching as your reflection did the same and lightly brush beneath the area under and around your eye, your fingers briefly lingering on the small bits of scarring on your skin.

It didn't seem real, but clearly it was.

“Is everything alright?”

Hearing Chrollo's voice surprised you, and you looked over to find him entering the bathroom, smiling at you when you made eye contact.

“Yeah, I'm fine,” you answered, adding “sorry, I didn't mean to wake you.”

“You didn't,” he said, “I woke up on my own a moment ago.”

You were about to reply when another yawn came on that you couldn't suppress, and you covered your mouth with your hand.

His eyebrow raised as he asked “are you sure you don't need more sleep?”

“I'm fine,” you said, “I don't think I'd be able to sleep anymore, anyway.”

He nodded.

Then Chrollo walked up behind you, wrapping his arms around your form and holding you close to him. You reached up and grabbed at one of his hands, to which he responded by taking your hand in his and lightly squeezing.

“You came in to admire yourself, I see,” he said.

You laughed a little.

“Don't know if there's much to admire here at the moment,” you answered.

“I disagree,” he said, “there's quite a lot to admire about you.”

“Well, you're biased, so I don't know how much I can trust you on that,” you said.

He chuckled, taking the hand that he held and lifting it so he could place a kiss on your skin. As he did that your gaze went back to the mirror.

It was a nice image, you thought to yourself. You and your boyfriend, both of you with hair that needed to be brushed and looking rather disheveled after getting out of bed, standing together and holding one another in a moment of peaceful quiet.

A definite contrast to what life had been during the last nine months where the days had been filled with anxiety despite how hard you tried to adjust to a new way of living. Unsurprisingly, having one of your senses be unexpectedly taken away was a difficult thing to cope with.

Despite what had happened, you spent a relatively short amount of time in the hospital as Chrollo had been insistent on you returning home with him as soon as possible. You hadn't minded that too much. Even though you hadn't stayed there long, the loss of your eyesight had made your other senses get stronger. As such, you'd grown to truly hate the smell of hospitals, the feeling of needles poking into your skin and the never-ending beeping of the machines you'd be hooked up to.

Being in the comfort of your home while you recovered was preferable.

And hopefully it would be a while before you needed to go back for any doctor's appointment, though when you did, the staff at the hospital would definitely be surprised to find that you were able to see again.

Chrollo seemed to notice that your thoughts had drifted elsewhere as he asked “what is it, love?”

“Nothing too important, I guess,” you said, “just thinking about what'll happen if I ever end up back at that hospital. They'd be surprised if they saw me with how adamant they were that there wasn't anything that could be done for me.”

You looked back at him while asking “why wouldn't they have mentioned the guy in Padokea?”

“I don't know,” he answered, shrugging as he added “perhaps they were worried what might happen if they recommended an experimental surgery and then something went wrong.”

“What do you think could've gone wrong?”

“I'm sure there's a number of things, though I can't say what exactly they might be.”

“I thought you knew everything,” you said teasingly.

He smiled as he answered “I'm afraid I must concede that I only have a basic knowledge when it comes to the world of modern medicine. That's why I usually go to Machi if I have any questions.”

You hummed, looking back to the reflections in the mirror.

You could lose that. In a mere moment your eyesight could be taken away and your world would become dark again.

Remembering the way things had been caused the anxiety to swell inside of you, and this time you voiced your concerns.

“Things will stay this way, right?” you asked him, “nothing's going to happen where the eyes won't work out and I'll need to go back to not being able to see, right?”

Chrollo's hand went to rest on your shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly as he asked “is that what you're worried about?”

You nodded.

“It'd be sad to get back my eyesight and then have it taken away again,” you added.

Chrollo pulled you around so you were no longer facing the mirror. Then he leaned down and pressed a kiss against your lips before holding you against himself.

He spoke again.

“Everything will be fine, love,” he told you, “nothing's gone wrong since we came back, and if we were to call up that professional, he'd tell you that everything is fine.”

“You're sure he'd say that?” you asked.

“I'm sure.”

His hand was on your head stroking your hair. That alone was able to quell the anxiety that had begun to grow in your chest.

“After all,” he continued, “I promised that you'd be fine, didn't I?”

You nodded, remembering what he said to you almost a year ago.

You still remembered the way he'd grasped your hand and the feel of the fur that lined the cuffs of his coat sleeves brushing against your skin. You remembered the cast that your leg had been trapped in and the constant beeping of the monitors beside your bed. You remembered the darkness.

And you remembered how easily your spirits were lifted when Chrollo spoke to you.

“Everything will be fine, love. I promise you.”

At the time you thought he was only saying that so you would feel a bit better about your situation, that he was simply doing his best to be a supportive boyfriend as he navigated through the results of this accident with you. While the future may not have been completely bleak, it was without a doubt going to be different than what you could have ever imagined and you and Chrollo were going to need to find a new version of your “normal”.

At the time you never would have thought he'd find a way to make things go back to the way they'd been before the accident.

Yet he had.

And now you were here.

Still not completely recovered as the trauma that had come with being in such a nasty accident remained with you and would likely stay with you for a long time to come, but you were still in a much better place than you had been in the previous months.

And Chrollo had been by your side every step of the way.

He pulled away, cupping your cheek and moving your head up to look at him.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

You nodded.

“Yeah,” you answered, smiling after.

He kissed you again before saying “we may as well start getting ready for the day.”

He let you go after that, moving over to his side of the sink.

“Are you working today?” you asked.

“No, not today. My schedule is free.”

“Do we have anything planned?”

“Nothing in particular,” he answered, “although I suppose I should figure out something fast, otherwise you'll be insistent on watching horror movies all day.”

You pouted a little as you asked “what's wrong with that?”

“Ordinarily there would be nothing wrong with that. Unfortunately, you never seem to be able to pick any good movies,” he replied.

“Rude.”

“It's the truth, love.”

“Even if it is, you aren't supposed to say that.”

“So I'm supposed to lie to you?”

“When it comes to my taste in movies, yeah.”

“Interesting.”

There wasn't any malice behind either of your words during that bit of banter, and you couldn't help giggling a little bit after. Chrollo also had a soft smile on his face, though the somewhat distant gaze his gray eyes made it seem as though he was thinking about something.

His eyes…

… Huh. You hadn't really thought about it before.

“We almost match now,” you said.

“Hm?”

He glanced over to you, waiting for you to elaborate.

“Our eyes,” you explained, pointing to your own as you continued with “we almost have the same eye color now. It's off by just a few shades.”

Chrollo's hummed as he smiled again.

“So we do.”

Was that a dumb thing to point out? If it was he wouldn't say anything like that. And with the amount of time the two of you had been together, he was probably used to hearing such things from you. How a man like him wanted to be with someone like you, you would never know. But after the events of the past few months, you could say with one hundred percent certainty that he deeply cared about you.

Really, you didn't deserve him.

“I'll do whatever you want to do today, Chrollo,” you said, smiling at him again.

He smiled back at you as he said “I'll need to make sure I come up with something good, then.”

The accident happened when Chrollo was away on business, during one of his trips that he took every few months that lasted up to a few weeks on average. You never quite knew what those trips were about; Chrollo said he couldn't tell you and communication with him during those times was shoddy at best, so you didn't even have much to go off of to figure out on your own what he was doing. There was a constant curiosity burning in you about what he was doing exactly, but since he told you that you didn't need to know, you stopped pressing the issue.

If Chrollo said so, then you trusted him.

Not that your trust helped at all in how lonely those weeks would be while he was gone. With communication being almost non-existent while he was away and no one else around to hang out with or even really talk to, the feeling of isolation would take over fast. For that reason, you figured that things would be more interesting if you were to step out of your routine. That day you headed out to attend a convention that was taking place not too far from where you lived in the hopes you could browse around, perhaps make a few new friends, but mostly to do something different.

When you were on your way was when a careless driver slammed headfirst into the taxi you'd been riding in.

Your leg and collarbone had both been broken, and one of your wrists and a few of your ribs had been fractured. Terrible injuries, to be sure, but those were things that you could recover from.

The loss of your eyesight was a different story, and the doctor who'd treated your injuries had informed you that there was no way to bring that back.

Hearing that had been hard.

It was made harder still when your attempts to reach Chrollo failed.

Even after giving them his number, the hospital had been unable to contact Chrollo as every single call they made failed to go through. With you stuck in bed with all of your injuries and not having anyone else you could contact, it was a devastating few days.

But on the afternoon of your third day in the hospital he showed up unexpectedly, heading straight to your room and calling out to you once he saw you. Relief filled you in the moment where you heard his voice, but the gravity of the situation brought you back down not long after. His hands grasped yours, and you felt the fur that lined the cuffs of his coat brush against your skin as you tearfully told him that you couldn't see anymore.

It seemed to take him a moment to process that information as he remained silent at first.

After a few moments, he pulled your hand up to his mouth and placed a kiss to your skin.

And then he spoke again.

“Everything will be fine, love. I promise you.”

The words had been spoken with conviction.

And he was right.

Everything had seemingly gone back to the way it was before, and that fact in of itself was better than you could've hoped for.

It was hard to breathe, and you could feel the adrenaline pumping through you while you lay frozen in place. You couldn't move. No matter how many times your brain ordered your limbs to break free of their state of stasis, they wouldn't comply, and you were stuck, laying as though rigor mortis had set in.

The figure was there. Though you still couldn't see them clearly, you felt them watching you.

Why wouldn't they help you? Why did they only ever watch?

Your jaw refused to open so you could ask those questions, and you were left to harshly breathe through your nose while the figure continued to observe you.

The next morning, while you fought with the eggs that didn't want to be unstuck from the pan, a thought came to you.

“What sort of things does Kortopi like?” you asked, looking back to where Chrollo sat at the table.

“Kortopi? He likes books. He also enjoys making miniatures.”

“Miniatures?”

“Those sets you can get from hobby stores,” Chrollo clarified before adding, “what makes you ask?”

You turned back to the pan as you answered “I wanted to do something for him since he helped us out. I thought maybe I could get him something nice; like I could put together a basket of stuff he'd like as a way to say 'thank you'. Same with Pakunoda and Machi.”

You paused before adding “and Shalnark.”

“Why the hesitation in naming Shalnark?”

Of course he picked up on that.

“… I don't want to say anything bad about your friend,” you replied.

You glanced back to find that his eyebrow had raised slightly.

“Oh? What did he do?”

You were hesitant to answer, because while Shalnark had been rather intrusive when he'd been here with you, he had been helping you and Chrollo out. Still, you knew from past experiences that Chrollo wasn't going to let this go.

“…. Some of the questions he asked me were a little invasive,” you admitted, “and I think he might have been going through our stuff.”

Chrollo didn't seem surprised.

“Shalnark does have a bad habit of being a bit too nosy,” he said, “but I doubt he meant any actual harm in anything he said or did.”

“Why didn't you bring this up back then?” he then asked.

“He was doing us a favor,” you said, “and you said that I could trust him. Just… Maybe if he ever comes back, we should make sure you're around to keep him in line.”

You heard him let out a chuckle as you went back to your cooking.

“He usually listens to me, so that shouldn't be an issue,” Chrollo said, “and if you'd like, I can take care of getting him something.”

“Nah, I'll still get him a gift as thanks. It'd be rude if I didn't,” you said, “hopefully I won't need him or any of your other friends to babysit me again.”

The eggs managed to not be burned when you pushed them out of the pan and onto your plate, and after months of being out of practice when it came to cooking, it felt good that you'd managed to do that much.

“I still don't think you needed to call on them as much as you did,” you added, “I would've been fine on my own for a few hours those times you were gone.”

“It was better for you to have not needed them than be in a situation where you were having an emergency and couldn't get help,” he answered.

“I'm not sure how much trouble I could've gotten into on my own, honestly,” you said.

“You never know.”

“I guess. I feel bad for taking up their time like that, though.”

“They were happy to help,” he told you, “but I do think your idea of gifts as a way of thanking them is a good one.”

Setting the plate of eggs down at the table, you sat down as you asked “where are you heading out today?”

He was already dressed to go out, and he'd finished up his coffee just as you took your seat.

“Nowhere special. I just need to take care of a few things in relation to my last job,” he answered.

“How long will you be out?”

“Not long. I should be back after lunch.”

“So not long enough that I need someone to look after me,” you said.

He smiled as he said “not this time, no.”

A beat of silence passed, and though you suspected you knew what his response would be, you decided to make a request anyway.

“If I finish this really fast, can I come with you?” you asked.

Though his smile didn't falter, Chrollo shook his head.

“It's not the sort of trip where I can bring you along,” he said.

“Not even if I stay in the car while you go do whatever?”

“Do you really want to be stuck in a car for hours?”

“No,” you admitted, “but it'd be nice to get out for a little bit.”

He nodded while reaching over so he could grasp your hand.

“I know that you're feeling closed off from the rest of the world, love,” Chrollo said, “but I'd much rather you stay in here while you continue your recovery.”

“I feel fine, though. Better than I have in a while,” you replied, “I could start going out a little, right?”

“Perhaps. But not on a trip like this.”

“What then?”

“We can figure that out when I get back.”

He stood up then, and there was a sense of finality in the conversation as he pushed his chair back in place, though he kept his cheerful demeanor when he smiled at you again.

“No need to get up,” he said to you, “I'll see myself out. Don't stress yourself and stay inside.”

That last part was definitely tacked on because of what you'd said.

“Even if I feel fine?” you asked.

“Do it for me, love.”

He finished that off by placing a kiss to your forehead.

Well damn. How could you refuse when he asked you like that?

He smiled at you, and you smiled back at him. Everything was fine.

You were fine when he walked out of the room, gathering his things before making his way to the door. You were fine even when you heard the jingling of his keys and the sound of the door opening. You were fine when you called out one last “goodbye”, to which he responded in kind.

But the instant you heard the front door lock behind him and you could no longer hear his footsteps, your mood fell.

Life got lonely when Chrollo wasn't around. Largely due to how small your world had become as you were lacking when it came to other people you could be around. And while the accident had made things smaller, it had been getting to be that way even before the crash. Friends and family didn't contact you anymore and you didn't know anyone outside of Chrollo's social circle, of whom you very rarely saw. The most time you had spent with anyone aside from your boyfriend was a few hours at a time during those months of recovery when he got his friends to look after you when you were bedridden.

Did your old friends or any of your family even know about the crash?

You had no clue, but since Chrollo said you didn't need to worry about them, you didn't think about them most days.

Though it didn't help how the apartment felt incredibly empty whenever he was gone.

But it was okay.

It would be fine, you told yourself as you finished up your breakfast. Chrollo wouldn't be gone long. His lack of packing an overnight bag or getting one of his friends to stay with you was proof of that. He'd be back before the day was out and everything would be fine.

Everything would be fine as long as Chrollo was with you.

After all, he'd said so.You had your eyesight back.

Though it had taken a while to get to that point. Months of staying put in bed so as to not strain yourself, and then getting used to walking on your own again after your broken bones had healed up. Despite having no vision, muscle memory had kicked in when you were feeling well enough to walk without assistance, and you didn't have much issue navigating the layout of the apartment once your leg had fully healed.

That was when Chrollo came to you with a proposal.

The medical professionals told you there was nothing that could be done about your sight, yet Chrollo had found a way around it, telling you of an experimental new surgery being done somewhere within the Dentora Region of Padokea. Under normal circumstances, you might have been skeptical, and just hearing the word “experimental” made you nervous. But Chrollo managed to convince you to give it a shot. All it took was a single conversation and he had gotten you to agree.

You were glad that he did, otherwise you might not be here like this right now. Back to what your normal had been before the accident, at least for the most part. Being able to be on your own and not needing to worry if you were becoming a burden to your boyfriend. Going back to waiting for him to return from his work and eagerly greeting him when he walked in the door.

Chrollo had done a good job of keeping up a positive attitude while you recovered, but now you were feeling better mentally, his happiness seemed a bit more genuine.

Maybe at some point soon, you could start to go out again like you had before the accident.

That would be something to discuss once he was back.

You woke up in a cold sweat, breathing hard as you sat up in bed, your arms shaking as you struggled to support yourself.

Another nightmare. The same as the others where you couldn't move and someone sat by and stared at you. But this time had been different.

You could still feel their hands around your throat as your air was cut off completely.

A quick check by placing one of your hands to your neck confirmed that it had been a dream; no one was trying to choke the life out of you.

That only brought minimal relief, however. Even if it was only a nightmare, the images were still fresh in your mind, and it had left you shaken. The thought of being unable to fight back or even cry out while someone sat on top of you and tried to kill you was one that made you feel incredibly helpless.

And you were so, so tired of feeling helpless.

Glancing next to you, you were able to make out Chrollo's form on the bed. He was still asleep, otherwise he no doubt would've asked you what was wrong.

Maybe you should tell him.

They'd started weeks after getting back from Padokea, and the first few times you hadn't thought much of them. And even when they continued, you decided to keep it to yourself. They were simply been the result of stress, likely in relation to the accident, and that at some point they would stop on their own. You didn't want to bring it up because you didn't want to saddle him with anymore of your issues. After all, you weren't a child and Chrollo deserved better than for you to go crying to him whenever something mildly inconvenient happened.

If the nightmares had stopped quickly you wouldn't have considered talking to him.

But if anything, they were only increasing in frequency. Not only were they leaving you emotionally exhausted, but you felt that you were being drained physically as well. Your nights were becoming restless and you spent almost all of the next day tired as you tried to recuperate.

No wonder Chrollo didn't want you going out; he could easily see that you were tired and took that to mean that you still weren't well enough for the outside.

It still seemed strange that they would continue as long as they did, though. Especially when you were considerably less stressed than you'd been before the surgery. Why were they happening when things were going well?

… You didn't know. You just wanted them to stop so you wouldn't need to deal with them anymore.

For now just rest, you told yourself.

With that, you settled back down onto the bed, though your gaze went to Chrollo, still asleep and with his back turned to you. After a moment, you scooted over to be closer to him, resting against his back and placing a hand on his arm. Chrollo didn't wake.

A little unusual given how often he awoke to even the slightest of movement on the bed. He must have been more tired than usual. Part of you was sad because of that; it would've been nice to feel him hold you back, to give you some form of reassurance, even if it was one small piece of physical affection.

But waking him up would be selfish.

So you stayed still, not moving any further, keeping your hand on his arm and your face against his back while you took in his scent.

You can deal with this much on your own, you told yourself.

Just rest for now.

“How would you feel about moving?”

You looked up from where you sat on the couch over to where Chrollo stood on the other end of the room. Moments ago you'd both been reading separately, and he'd gotten up when his cellphone had gone off so he could take the call in another room. He had just come back in and that was the first thing he said, and it managed to catch you so off-guard that it took you a bit to process what he just said.

“Moving?” you repeated.

“Yes.”

“And go where?”

“Out of the city,” he said, “somewhere in the country. That would be nice, wouldn't it?”

“…. Huh.”

He seemed surprised at your reaction, as he asked “you don't want to?”

“I don't know,” you said, “I was really looking forward to walking around here again when it's okay for me to go out.”

Shutting your book and placing it to the side, you asked “where exactly are you thinking?”

“Somewhere near the mountains would be nice.”

“…. Wouldn't somewhere near the mountains be several hours away from here?”

“It would.”

“Won't that interfere with your job?”

He shrugged.

“Relocating won't effect me much,” he said, “my work already requires me to travel. Adding a few more hours to my trips is hardly a sacrifice.”

“Besides,” he added, “I think a new environment would be better for you, especially one that kept you away from the stresses outside here.”

That made sense. Everything he said made sense, as it always did.

But still.

“I really like it here, though,” you said, “there are specific places I haven't been to since the accident that I want to visit again, and I won't be able to do that if we move. Not easily, at least.”

“I understand, but you shouldn't be sacrificing your health just to see certain places again.”

“I'm not sacrificing anything.”

At that, Chrollo leaned against the door frame before he sighed.

“You haven't been doing well, love,” he told you.

You frowned.

“I thought I was doing pretty good, all things considered,” you said.

“You spend most of your days exhausted.”

“I'm not that exhausted.”

To that, Chrollo gave you a pointed look. One that clearly told you that he didn't believe you and you knew you couldn't continue to insist that he was wrong.

“Okay, maybe I'm not doing as great as I'd like, but I'm still getting used to things. It doesn't mean we need to completely leave the lives we have here,” you insisted.

Should you mention the nightmares, that those were probably part of the issue? No…. He might use those as another reason as to why what he was suggesting was the correct decision, and therefore, the decision that you needed to go with. Like most things when it came to your life.

Not that there were any bad decisions that Chrollo had forced on you, but you generally had little input on them as he expected you to go with what he wanted. Like the eyes. He had basically told you that it was happening and you had been in such a depressive state that you didn't offer much resistance.

But it was different now. You liked it here and you wanted to stay. Plus he'd had this place even before meeting you, and the thought of forcing him to move out of his longtime home made you feel guilty. Even if he was the one who wanted it.

“Moving somewhere else just feels like a really extreme reaction,” you continued.

“Trying to keep your health in mind is extreme?” he asked.

“…. Maybe just a little bit, this time.”

Your voice was a bit more hushed when you answered.

After a moment, he pushed himself off the door frame and began to walk towards where you sat.

Chrollo would get his way again. You could already tell: he was going to talk to you, explain all of the reasons as to why he was right and shoot down every argument you had until you were forced to agree that there was no point in doing it in anyway other than his. Then by the end of the week he'd have found some home away from here, if he didn't have his eye on something already, and you'd find yourself packing up everything before the end of the month.

You loved your boyfriend. You really did.

But you didn't want to leave your home.

Maybe you could find some sort of compromise, figure out something to say that would get him to back down temporarily.

So before he could speak, you asked “what if we just held off on that for a few months? Wait and see how I'm doing after a longer period and come back to the topic of moving?”

“It's been some time already and you haven't gotten better,” he countered.

Sitting down next to you, Chrollo reached out and took your hand in his.

“I understand why you don't want to leave,” he continued, “but we do need to consider what is best for you. And I think staying so close to where that crash happened is having a negative affect on you.”

Giving your hand a light squeeze, he asked “don't you agree?”

You surprised him again when you shook your head.

“I get what you're saying,” you then told him, “but I don't think I'm going to get anywhere if I keep running from my problems. Yeah, I'm tired, but I really want things to go back to how they were. I really want to move past what happened.”

“So I'd feel a lot better if I could at least try to tough it out for a little while longer,” you continued, adding “and maybe you're right, that a change in environment is better for me. So maybe in a few months, if we find that I'm still in the same place, we can look into leaving.”

You stayed quiet a moment before adding “if that sounds good to you.”

It didn't seem like he felt that way. Or did it? You couldn't quite read him at the moment, his expression rather stone-faced as he presumably thought over what you said.

At least he was taking your argument into consideration. At least that was something.

“Alright then, love.”

You sat up straighter when he said that and stayed quiet so he could continue with “we'll hold off on it and come back to this discussion at a later date. However, if it seems like you're getting worse, we will be looking into moving.”

You nodded.

He squeezed your hand again as he then asked “you will tell me if you aren't doing well, won't you?”

“Of course.”

Chrollo stared at you for a moment.

Then he finally conceded, pulling your hand up to his lips so he could kiss it.

You responded by placing a kiss on his cheek, which he couldn't help but smile at.

It wasn't good to lie to him. You knew that.

But you were going to get through your issues without bothering him.

You weren't going to burden him anymore.