Summary: Feitan is usually under control, but ever since you joined the Phantom Troupe, he can't help but admire your blood each time it spills in battle. He simply wants a taste, always gazing at you with that look in his eyes that make your knees buckle. Just what happens when he catches you injured and vulnerable?
WARNINGS: BLOOD; wounds; slight gore (not really), MARKING; biting, CURSING, fighting, A BIT SUGGESTIVE but not really, Feitan's a little bitch, NOT PROOFREAD; might contain grammar mistakes, English is NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE!!
(A/N): THIS WAS MY FAVOURITE FIC FROM MY HALLOWEEN SPECIAL AND I WAS WAITING TO WRITE THIS FOR SOOO LONG!! It honestly came out really good and this took me so long to write, but it was all worth it!
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Shit!" The word tore out of your mouth as you crashed down onto the cold and hard concrete. The impact shot blinding pain through your knees, your palms scraped against the rough ground, gravel scratching your skin as you caught yourself, fingers trembling.
You forced yourself to look up, breath ragged as you focused on the man in front of you, your target. He stood tall, his smirk barely hidden by his bloodstained lips. You could feel your heartbeat increasing, thudding in your ears, the harsh sting in your legs reminding you that you miscalculated and let your guard down at the wrong second.
Your mission, assigned by Chrollo, felt heavier than ever. And failure... Well, that wasn't an option.
You were new to the Phantom Troupe, fresh blood among a league of killers more ruthless and skilled than you could hope to be yet. The others were more used to pain, masters at controlling their suffering, all while you still feel every sting, every break in your body with too much clarity.
Your hand pressed over a gash on your arm, the sticky warmth of blood spreading over your palm. Even with a small amount of light, the red caught Feitan's gaze instantly. He stood nearby, his eyes fixed on the crimson streak trailing down your arm, and for a moment, he didn't look like your ally anymore, barely holding himself back.
"Get up." He murmured, voice low and almost irritated, yet his gaze remained glued to the blood. Despite the pain in your body, you could feel a chill run down your spine that had nothing to do with the target.
He stepped closer, almost too close. You could feel his gaze on you as you forced yourself to your feet, your knees throbbing and your arm slick with fresh blood. Feitan's eyes hadn't moved from you as the sting of your injuries were slowly fading.
The target lunged toward you again, throwing a punch with enough force to send you crashing back. Feitan moved in a blur, his hand grabbing the man's wrist with bone-crushing strength. His eyes widened in panic as he struggled, but it was far too late. Feitan twisted the man's arm with a snap, the sound making you sick as the target screamed in agony, all while listening to Feitan's degrading words.
