The Razor's Edge [[Feitan x Reader]]

20: The Girl With The Spider Tattoo

Warning: Mentions of masturbation, secondhand embarrassment. If you don't want to read any of that kind of content, then just skip the second part of the chapter :)

   I didn't think I'd ever feel giddy knocking on Feitan's door, but I couldn't contain my excitement.

   Sure, joining the Phantom Troupe wasn't in my original game plan when I'd left, but spending time with them made me realize that this was the best place to hide. As long as I was a spider, I would be safe. No one that Akira hired would dare mess with the Phantom Troupe, not with the reputation they'd earned for themselves.

   "Come in," he called when he heard me knock.

   He had brought up his torture chair and the metal tray he kept all of his little torture devices on—only now, it was covered in tattooing equipment. I froze when I saw it.

   "What? Nervous?" he asked me.

   "I'm not sitting in that."

   "It's clean."

   "That's not the fucking problem."

   "Fine." He went into his closet and brought back a folded up black sheet. He spread it out on top of his bed and looked at me for approval. "Better?"

   "I guess."

   "Where do you want it?"

   I had asked Machi and Shizuku where they'd gotten theirs—Shizuku's was on her lower stomach by her hip, and Machi's was on her shoulder blade. Neither spot felt right to me.

   "I think. . . on my ribs?"

   "Okay. Lie down on your side and I'll start. Here," he grabbed one of his pillows and handed it to me. "More comfortable."

   "Oh. Thanks."

   I settled onto the bed and watched Feitan pull a chair closer to me before dipping the tip of the needle into the little jar of black ink. He slid his fingers under the hem of my shirt, hesitantly pushing up the fabric to expose my scar-littered abdomen.

   "Here good?" He asked, tracing a circle on the side of my ribs

   I could feel chills rippling through me again. I tried to ignore it to the best of my ability. "Yeah, that's fine," I answered, hoping he wouldn't notice the way that my voice faltered.

   He nodded and a light buzzing sound filled the air as he pressed the needle into my skin. It didn't hurt as bad as I thought it would—it was my first tattoo, so I didn't know what to expect. Then again, maybe I had grown too numb to that sort of thing.

   "Never told me," he said after a bit, "Where did you get these scars?"

   "You never asked."

   "Am now."

   I sighed. "It's not really a great story. I didn't get them from a fight or anything."

   "Was it them?" His cold eyes flickered to mine for a second.

   "Who?"

   "The person you're running from."

   "Oh. No, not him."

   "Did he hurt you?"

   "Well. . . yeah," my mind was flooded with memories of time spent with Akira—flashes of violent images mixed with the scent of my own blood and the feeling of his hot breath on my neck. "It was just different."

   He hummed, letting me know he'd heard me even though he was clearly miles deep in thought. Normally, Feitan was unreadable—his grey eyes were always cold and empty—but as I examined his features now, I felt for once that I understood what was going on inside of his mind.