𝖍𝖝𝖍 𝖔𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖍𝖔𝖙𝖘

Down Came the Spider

Top!Feitan

Bottom!Y/N

Summary: "You make Feitan very happy, you know."

His words made you blush. It was nice to hear, of course, but coming from Feitan's boss it felt embarrassing.
"Tell me," he moved toward you, "Does he make you happy, too?"
"Yes," you were relieved to hear that your voice didn't shake, "Yes, he makes me happier than I've ever been."

Author: Thyrup (on ao3)
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You took a deep breath and looked over at the slim, dark-haired man slouched on the couch next to you. Just a look was enough to make your stomach burst with butterflies and your legs go weak. That reaction hadn't dulled in the slightest since the first time you laid eyes on him.

It has been at the coffee shop you worked at while scraping your way through college. The early shift wasn't exactly fun, but it was the only time you had between classes and homework. Besides, the shifts were usually quiet so you had time to study, even in a big city there weren't a lot of people around at that time in the morning.

He came in around four a.m., looking exhausted and a tad annoyed. Or at least, you thought he looked annoyed. The skull encrusted bandana covering most of his face made it difficult to tell.

Oddly dressed people roaming the city was nothing new, especially in the early hours of the morning, so his bandana and long, robe-like outfit didn't phase you much. Those piercing gray eyes though, they shook you to your core when they fixed on yours. He was short, but there was such a power radiating from him that you hardly noticed his height.

Not wanting to keep him waiting for a moment you scrambled from behind the counter to take his order.

His eyes slid slowly from your face down your entire body. A heat flushed through you, as though you were naked before his burning gaze.

"Coffee. Large. Black." His voice was soft and slow.

He had come back every morning that week. His order never varied although the amount of time he spent in the shop fluctuated. Sometimes he was only there long enough to finish his drink, other times he sat and stared morosely out the grimy window for almost an hour.

He never spoke to you, other than to give his order. And you didn't speak to him, other than squeaking a nervous "here you are" when you delivered the drink.

Six days after his first visit you were setting down his coffee when his hand shot out and latched like iron around your wrist. In a panic you tried to pull away, but it was completely useless, he didn't even flinch against your struggles. When you stopped pulling, he reached out with his other hand and pushed up the sleeve of your shirt.

You froze as his eyes traveled up the scars littering your skin. Some were clearly old and healed over, others were just beginning to show signs of the skin knitting back together.

"Who is doing that to you?" His voice was completely even, as steady and emotionless as it was when he gave his order.

"N-no one," you whispered, barely audible. You tried again, fruitlessly, to pull your arm from his grasp.

"You?" He asked, looking up. His face was impassive and impossible to read.

The dark blush of embarrassment that flooded your face was clearly enough to answer his question.

"You are not no one."

Feitan's silky voice called your name, startling you from your reverie.

"Yes?"

"What is on your mind?" His gray eyes were scrutinizing and you wondered how long you had been staring.

"You," you admitted, flushing, "I was thinking about when we first met."