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hhighkey · 1 day ago

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Decode // Chapter Fifteen, decoded

Dracule Mihawk (opla) x OC (female)

Rating: mature

Story Contains: live action characters, related and non-related one piece plots, unspecified religion, OC is a nun on sabbatical, trauma, violence, age gap (40 v 23), insecurities and self doubts, possessive / protective behavior, kidnapping, true loves, smut

Note: last chapter yall🥹🥹🥹 (tho knowing me maybe there could one day be a bonus chapter or two of random plots), AO3 link: xxx

Masterlist

The sound of Mihawk’s laughter freely in the air was (normally) music to her ears. It made her loins burn with a static want, a surge of her heart as if it was too full to handle. Love. She could listen to him, watch him do anything and she’d be content. Though at the moment, his chuckle only made her burn with frustration.

“Glad my suffering is amusing!”

He couldn’t contain his amusement as the corners of his eyes crinkled, a deep chuckle following. The wooden sword at his side mocked her, he hadn’t even needed to use it! She was practically defeating herself before he needed to react; moves clumsy, proper footing not coming naturally, not used to this amount of physical activity– she was ready to throw down the practice sword and stomp off.

“Seriously Mihawk, I don’t get why you’re pressing for this. I’m clearly inept.” Sabine wiped the sweat that beaded along her forehead, behind her the sky was painted in pink as the sun set.

Mihawk knew he had pushed her today, quite frankly he was surprised she allowed him to train her in any capacity. So he knew it was time to relent and call it a day. Or week. Or two.

He sighed as he approached her, “we aren’t always together, especially when I am at the will of the Marines, there will come a time when I won’t be able to protect you. Already have we faced such.”

Immediately, she thought back to Angelica Island with an ache in her heart, phantom pains slicing along her wrists where she’d been detained. “I know. But I survived without a sword then.”

“Still, amuse me with this then.”

“Will it help you sleep at night?” Her tone a faux annoyance.

“It will.”

She wished to find faults in this ask of her, but if it would quench his fears, then she would do it. Though as her legs and arms burned from overexertion, she couldn’t see how it would aid her in any way.

They called it a day, much to Sabine’s thankfulness, any more and her legs might have given way. Beneath the setting sun painting the sky with hues of purple and orange, they set aside the training swords and walked back to the castle. Her hand was in his, fingers laced as she trudged alongside him, legs feeling heavier than normal.

“Would you like me to carry you?” He teased.

Playfully, she swatted at him, unable to withhold the grin that spread on her lips. “I’m not that helpless.”

She couldn’t deny how her legs screamed, a light wobble to each step but she was intent on staying upright. A belief that walking would later help her soreness. And with the way sweat seemed to drench her body and clothes, it was a form of embarrassment that made her want to keep Mihawk from touching her. She had no way of knowing how proud he was of her, obsessed with how dedicated and hardworking to his craft that she was. Sweat, soreness, it was a testament to strength, and how it made him yearn for her.

As they made their way inside of the castle, the cool air was a heaven sent against her skin and its sheen of sweat that seemed to stick and cement itself into her skin. A gross second layer of skin she could not wait to scrub off.

“I need to wash.” She groaned out, already setting off for their chambers. Behind her she could hear Mihawk murmur something about joining her soon.

Movements sluggish as she wound up the stairs, the washroom was a wonderful sight at last. Cool tile on the bottoms of her feet. Clothes discarded in a lump in a basket. Every movement elicited a deep ache, muscles twitching in discomfort, a burn that she knew would be back tenfold in the coming days.

The warm water cascaded along her body, it felt heavenly as a soft moan slipped past her lips in response. Every part of her body ached, especially her arms which angled up to wash her hair, the pads of her fingers already blistering. This was unlike the fruits of labor from the Monastery, she had been used to work of that sort; home training, cleaning and cooking, to laundry and gardening. She knew how it felt to be on her knees scrubbing for hours so the floors of a chapel could be anew. Training to use a weapon was unlike anything she’d done before and she hated it, hated being in pain with each breath and step. But if it allowed her beloved to breathe easily when away for work, then she’d go through this hell (perhaps she’d just have to best him to put an end to this).

A distant sound of a door closing barely reached her ears over the sound of the shower. Then footsteps. An involuntary smile pulled at the corners of her lips, her body warmed in a different way.

Clothes dropped to the tiled floor, the curtain of the shower spread, cold air rushed in before it was cut off. Steam billowed. Even hotter hands attaching to her hips, a strong chest against her back. His touch made her feel alive, skin prickling with gooseflesh as her mind went numb.

Mihawk towered above her, was much larger than her and she let herself sink into him. Water trickled down her reddened skin, a strong arm wrapping around her waist as they stood in one another’s comfort. No words were needed, how they could be in silence for so long and not once would discomfort invade, how they fit the other like a perfect puzzle piece. Just the other’s presence was enough.

He pressed into her, craning down to attach his lips to the pulse point in her neck. The stubble of his beard against her skin, the nipping of his teeth as he placed his marks upon her. Etched it into her skin as he drew blood, lapping at it as a purple bruise began to blossom, a trail of them blooming as he worked his way along her neck.

Sabine mewled his name, hands clinging to any part of him she could grab. Leaning into him, using him to support her weakened body, neck craning back to give him better access. His large hands roamed, one tracing circles into her skin whilst the other cupped a breast. A buck of her hips and trembling sigh escaped her lips as he pinched and toyed with one of her nipples. She felt electricity jolt from her core and she knew how much she needed him, and could care less for the soreness of her whole body screaming for her to lay down.

“Please,” she whimpered, head feeling faint as electricity coursed through her. A fuzziness of pleasure and desperation.

Mihawk then dropped to his knees under the stream of the shower, her body hoisted and pressed against the tiled wall, legs spread, his forearms supporting from how they dug into her thighs. She gasped from the suddenness, squirming, heart lurching with fear that he would drop her.

“Shh, I have you,” he hummed as he kissed the inside of her thighs.

Sabine gasped as his tongue dragged along her slit, swirling around her clit, pleasure streaming through her veins. Her head lolled back against the wall, eyes squeezing closed as he took his grueling time with her. Unspooling her, uncoiling her depths as he devoured her cunt, enjoyed her every sound and reaction as he toyed with her clit. How she ached and quivered for him, begged him to let her come. And when she reached her high, it had her legs shaking, toes arched painfully, and the most beautiful bliss taking over her. Mind whited out as she came undone.

Barely time for her to breathe as she was hoisted up as he came to his feet. His strong, large stature was unmovable beneath the stream of warm water as he held her inner thighs open and still resting on his arms, her back pressing hard into the wall. Secure, even with her throbbing, the bucking of her hips as her cunt ached with a returning lust.

His tip slid just into her, she wriggled, tried to kick her suspended legs to get him to move, to press him further in. But she was stuck and he was teasing her.

“Please- Mihawk, please,” she whined, breathless, frustrated as her fingernails dug into his shoulders leaving little crescent shaped marks. Sabine clung to him like he was her lifeline, she was at his mercy, and all she wanted was for him to fill her.

A deep chuckle vibrated in his throat. His forehead planted down on hers as he finally slid his large, leaking cock into her pussy. Their moans intermingled as one mixing in the thick steam, pleasure reverberating as he pushed in slowly. Inch by inch inside her aching cunt that squeezed him like a vice, her hot gummy walls that sucked him in and made him see stars. An addictive numbness spurred beneath his skin, like electricity prickling through his veins and spreading along his limbs.

Her eyes rolled back, her vision whited as her pussy desperately fluttered around him. She could feel nothing but the push and pull of pleasure through her, the thrusts of his hips at a bruising rhythm. It felt as if she was floating, drifting higher and higher to her peak, salacious moans leaving her lips. Her head was fuzzy. He stretched her out so deliciously. Made her his effortlessly.

Her nails dug into him, she clung to his shoulders as he fucked her, his groans and curses cause her skin to prickle. She took in every inch, she savored it, the flurry of pleasure coiling in her lower abdomen. It was all consuming, overwhelming really, as the fervor took her over. It wracked her body, nothing she could do but give into it.

They came together, heightened, limbs trembling, slick and cum washing from their bodies under the shower’s stream. Gasping into the other’s mouth as they lazily kissed, Sabine mewling as exhaustion hit her once more. She was shattering as she came back down to reality, her mind splintering into two as she wanted to cling to the moment. Wanted to memorize Mihawk’s flushed face, his muscles taut and dripping with water, making her buzz.

Mihawk dutifully helped to wash her, seeing how slow her blinks began, how her words slurred, one yawn after another. The fact she trusted him enough to fall asleep in the shower, to know he’d care for her… it made his eyes feel hot, a strange choking sensation forming in his chest.

He gathered her up, cradling her form to his chest as he carried her to their chambers. Gently as if Sabine was made of porcelain, he dressed her in a white gossamer nightgown, an angel, his angel. Kissing her forehead after he tucked her into bed, he took a place beside her even though he wasn’t tired. Just being beside her, to look over like that at her most vulnerable, was all he needed.

–

Mihawk woke slowly with bleary eyes that quickly adjusted to the dark room, slithers of rising sunlight peeking from behind the heavy curtains. There was a moment of confusion as he took in his surroundings, more specifically the absence of warmth and a constant presence beside him before he realized what was behind his waking. A shrill sound of the Den Den Mushi signaling it had a call for him, which he knew before picking it up that it would be the Marines.

He neither cared (or wasn’t particularly bothered) whenever the Marines had a job for him, it was nothing more than a mere nuisance that made him sigh. Then he’d get it done so he could return to his pleasures.

Mihawk was affected more by Sabine’s absence in bed than the sound of an Admiral on the other end as he held the device to his ear. Fingers pinching the bridge of his nose in mild frustration and to lull the ache behind his eyes.

After a few minutes of listening to a droningly serious voice, Mihawk finally responded. “I’ll get it done.” And with that, he hung up feeling a wave of frustration further rip him from exhaustion.

He sighed, running thick fingers through his sleep strewn locks. His pajama bottoms clung low on his hips, tunic opened at the top revealing his muscled chest. With the bed still empty, Mihawk set out to find Sabine.

Of the two places she could be, she was not in the first, the kitchen. Nor was she in the second, the library of his massive abode. It was the unlocked balcony door that gave away where she was.

His golden eyes dilated as he noticed her ethereal form sitting out on the balcony. Through the glass doors he could see she was huddled beneath a quilt, a mug with steam rising in her hands. She was watching the sunrise, she looked content, yet he was more focused on why she was awake. And the fact she hadn’t woken him when she got up? Worry had lodged its way into his chest as his fingers twitched, numb with wanting as his feet carried him forward, outside.

“Sabine.” His warm vibrato reached her ears and she shuddered, looking up at him as he joined her. He took a seat next to her, tucking an arm around her as she offered a part of the blanket.

“Morning.”

Up close, Sabine looked tired, and it pulled at his heart strings. “How long have you been up? It’s early, dear.”

“I couldn’t fall back to sleep earlier, I thought I’d come out here.”

“You didn’t wake me.”

“You were sleeping so peacefully, I didn’t want to disturb you.” She recalled fondly as a pink blush tinged her cheeks.

“Still, wake me next time.” He responded, pressing a chaste kiss to the side of her head.

How this sweet woman consumed his every thought- waking and sleeping alike. She’d turned him into such a doting man, one who dreaded being away from her, not knowing if she were safe, happy, he was completely beset. To be with her gave him feelings he thought he’d never know, gave him purpose far surpassing that of a Warlord and swordsman. Because perhaps there would be a future beyond his many titles, that he could set aside his lack of belief in retirement, that he need not die for the Greatest Swordsman to be passed on.

In hours he would have to leave her, for how long, he wasn’t sure. But per the marine he talked to moments prior, this job would have no place for Sabine to come with. Which meant leaving her, having her out of his sight, which left a sour note in his mouth. There would never be a solution for the dread that curdled whenever they were apart, nothing to quench his protectiveness, his possessiveness and worry beside him planted at her side.

“You’ll be safe.” As if she needed the reminder. They both knew he spoke those words more for himself, a reminder, that Kuraigana Island was more than safe. That he hadn’t a reason to worry yet.

“I know.”

She didn’t have it in herself to make a jest. Nor would she beg him to bring her with, if he did not ask her to come, she knew it was because of safety reasons. Sabine knew he loved having her by his side on the sea. More so he loved seeing her experience life, new places, bizarre people.

Then she said, leaning to kiss his cheek. “I’m the one who should worry. You’re facing dangerous pirates so often, regardless of your skill.”

“And I’ll always return in one piece.”

“Mhmm, Mr. Greatest Swordsman in the World… just be careful.” Her words turned quiet.

“I have a reason to be now.”

They spent that early morning as the sun rose in each other’s arms, lips meshed, clothing discarded. Final bits of time together before he needed to leave. Sabine hated watching him go, hated readying his things (that he insisted he didn’t need so much of) knowing she’d be a ball of anxiety until she saw him again.

The first week Sabine spent alone, she let herself be constantly beneath a pile of work; from polishing silverware, dusting books then leafing through ones that piqued her interest, practiced with the training swords, really anything to stay busy. It was slow, truly unbearable when boredom would sneak in. She’d practically memorized everything within Mihawk’s castle and the surrounding grounds; knowing every nook and strange treasure within the walls.

She always felt restless when Mihawk was gone. A coiling of incessant nerves in her gut, thickly lodged in her chest and throat, over him being so far. Possibly in danger. But so, so far away from her. The calm his presence brought her was warm, familiar, right.

The second week, Sabine might have just combusted. How strange that her time at the Monastery she found chores of any sort fun because it was the only remotely interesting thing to set apart her days. Whereas now, laundry, cooking- everything without Mihawk by her side was drab. It was effortless, how they could work in tandem, make minute tasks something of meaningful time together. So at times like these, she felt as if she were back at the Monastery, that her present was bleeding into the past, with some mornings she awoke in utter confusion about where she was.

To wake to an empty bed made her heart ache; cold and devoid of the normalcy that her life with Mihawk gave her such love. After years always on top of her Sisters, never able to be alone, even washrooms communal; oh how she enjoyed the silence, thoughts to herself. On the Going Merry she had flirted with personal space, with moments alone, but months on Kuraigana Island, she understood how much of a treat it was. But eventually, she grew antsy as she always did, like a puppy waiting at the door for its owner to return.

The sun disappeared beyond the horizon during Sabine’s lengthy walk, it had been sixteen days since Mihawk left and she felt every second of it. The time ticked on and Sabine hadn’t realized she missed dinner until the sound of soft grumbling from her stomach. When had it gotten so late? Normally she never got so carried away on her walks, the air was far too brisk for comfort as well.

The purple sheen of the sky was entrancing as the outline of the castle grew closer. A full moon sparkled in the air as it took over from the sun as it quickly darkened, stars peaked through as she walked, staring upwards to watch.

She hugged her jacket tightly around herself as she came to the groomed section of the grounds she used for a garden. A trellis with a long arch which ivy grew up and the flowers strewn along a path.

Perhaps it was her multiple run-ins with danger or training with Mihawk; but she felt the presence of another person. How gooseflesh spread along her clothed skin, feet planting to the ground with sudden halt.

But as soon as the panic jolted into her chest, it dissipated and she broke out into a jog to hurry back home. Towards the pull within her that led her right to the main entry of the castle.

Sabine’s eyes lit up at the sight of a familiar figure sitting, legs extended lounging on stone stairs. He looked cleaned up, Yoru nowhere to be seen, he seemed focused staring off. Clearly waiting. So when he did notice her, breathing hard and hair strewn, a soft look adorned his features. Relief was apparent in his body language as he seemed to physically relax, shoulders dropping.

“Good evening.” Sabine grinned as a flustering blush moved up the back of her neck and to her cheeks. A burst of electricity raced through her, from the tip of her head to her toes, stomach doing flips as she padded closer.

“I see you went for a late evening walk.” Mihawk said, eyes alit with hunger that seemed to make a fire burn inside of her.

She practically launched herself on him, closing the remaining distance. He cradled her to him. Held her taut, a hand coming to the back of her head, his eyes closing in comfort as her feeling and scent overwhelmed him.

All seemed to calm within him. The rage of a torrent sea inside of him quenched, as usual once he was wither, holding her like she’d dissipate at any moment.

“I’m glad you’re back safe,” she whispered into the crook of his neck. The sound of Mihawk’s slowing heart rate to normal was a lull, a rhythm she found enchanting. Palm splayed over his chest where his heart resided, it was grounding to feel a consistent beating of it, for this was who her heart beat for as well. So maybe it was anxiety for him during his jobs that made his time away so excruciating, the thought of anything happening would devastate her beyond belief.

Emotion swelled to her chest, bubbled thick and hot to the back of her eyes as her lash line moistened. A breathy intake of air, sharp, wavering, she couldn’t stop as a dam burst inside her, tears slipping down to stain his collar. She’d yet to see the man injured to any severe degree, but it didn’t stop the cascade of relief that descended upon her when she knew he was alive and in her arms. Sometimes it made her think of Angelica Island, how he must have felt when she was taken; but where he could save and protect her, Sabine wouldn’t be able to do anything or much for him.

“Not a scratch on me,” he mused as he felt her fingers prod along parts of his body.

“You must be exhausted,” she murmured fretting over him, as she continued to attempt to look for any signs of injury.

“Sabine, dear, I am not hurt.”

Brows downturned, she nodded stiffly. She hated the way her eyes misted and was unable to stifle a choked sob. It felt silly. Childish. But still whenever he was away on a job there was a niggling at the back of her mind he could die.

Underneath the moonlight, as the night went on, they sat in silence. Sabine safely in Mihawk’s arms, revelling in each other’s touch as they let their shared worries quench now they were back together. Strange how effortless love was for them. Like two puzzle pieces finally meeting, snapping into place. Even with the age gap, even with the difference in experience, in jobs (a warlord and a former nun, who knew?).

“Come.” Sabine said as she kissed him, pushing down the tears of relief that threatened to fall. “I’ll make you a meal, tell me all about your trip.”

–

Ocean waves crashed against the craggy rocks of the jetty, mist sprayed upwards into the air, stray droplets finding her open skin. Being along the shore was cold, her body yearned for heat, but her legs refused to move. The air whipped her hair wildly, she frantically tried to smooth it down but eventually gave up. For around her was a scene she did not want to look away from a second longer than needed.

Rolling white clouds raced above, a shining azure sky with a blazing sun deceived the temperature of the air. The ocean appeared angered, waves toiling a mess, breaking and crashing down. No boats appeared in the distance, she would know, Sabine had stood there studying as she wished to imprint this moment in her brain. The smell of the sea was intoxicating, nauseating invading her pores, nose, mouth; the taste salty yet comforting. This moment felt filled with weight, familiar as nostalgia filled her as her mind swayed to her time on the Going Merry. Her lips quirked up. Her chest seemed to soar.

There had not been a day where genuine regret claimed her and it would not now as she stood on what felt like the edge of the world. Her, a tiny thing, compared to the coalescing water around where she stood. Whilst she might ache for her Sisters or allowed rose colored lenses to paint her past in the Monastery now she was out; Sabine was content. There was no doubt.

Boots crunched on the gravel path that led to where she stood; figure lonesome and wrapped in layers that billowed in the heavy winds. Her face red, chilled, as she turned to see who approached. Though she knew who it would be, that fact didn’t seem to matter as her body reacted. Heart lurching and pulse hiking, a fluttering tumultuous and warm in her stomach, as if it was the first time seeing him and not the thousandth.

Traveling with Mihawk scratched the itch of adventure she came into during her time with Luffy, especially after her and Mihawk’s recent extended time apart. She’d come down to this part, outskirts, of the town they were staying, leaving him to finish up with the marines. His golden eyes locked with her own. Oh how he looked at her like she was his whole world and her at him the same. In his gaze whirled a whole universe that she was the center, that she was his brightest star and to know she was all he wanted filled her with all consuming love.

She wished to never be parted from him, especially as he pulled her to his chest, warmth washing over her. His ring on the chain around her neck made goosebumps spread along her skin as she remembered it, how it had become a part of her so effortlessly. To be without she would feel empty, weightless.

“Are we leaving now?” She asked, nuzzling her head into his chest further as they stood embracing, ocean waves spraying across the edges of the jetty and their shoes.

“I figured we could stay another day, for pleasure, how does that sound?”

“Delightful, let's find a restaurant to eat at, I am starving.”

And how could Mihawk ever say no to her?

Soon they found themselves, full from dinner but with enough room for drinks, in a swanky bar with a chorus of instruments on a small, gilded stage. Warm lights against the stillness of the black sky outside, bodies pressed together with chatter swarming in the air.

A pink haze was on Sabine’s face, her glittering eyes lasered in on Mihawk, her pupils blown out as a loose smile danced on her lips. She sat perfectly snug against Mihawk’s body, the two of them tucked away in a corner, as if he was shielding her from anything that was not him.

“This reminds me…” Sabine lamented as she took in their surroundings, in the ambience that warmed her to her soul as she thought back. “Of when we met. Sort of.” She then giggled, leaning further into him. The taste of sweet wine still lingered on her tongue, an empty glass on the table in front of her.

Mihawk watched her every movement. How she tucked her hair behind her ear as she excitedly talked, how her throat moved as she drank, the way her tongue swiped along her bottom lip…

“When I received the call to hunt down Luffy, I never would have thought that call would change my life.” His tone soft, golden eyes peered into her’s with such intensity she shuddered. “I am grateful for you by my side.”

“I wish to never leave it.” The words were like a promise on her lips, barely above a whisper as she repositioned herself. For better access, to cup his face and pull it to her’s. To claim him in a kiss as she knew not how to describe the fullness of emotion in her chest. How her every nerve was alighted in a flurry of swarming fire and butterflies.

When their lips finally parted it filled his chest with a faux sorrow, the rough of his sculpted facial hair rubbing along her cheek as he lingered down to the crook of her neck. Her skin came alive in gooseflesh as he kissed the flushed skin of her collarbone. “I plan to follow you wherever you go.”

“Isn’t it more of me following you?” Sabine asked teasingly as she slowly found herself being lost to the fuzziness of her head, to the lull of the sweltering music filled room.

He seemed to think for a moment before shaking his head, hand moving to cup the side of her side face as he studied her. “No. I am at your whims, not even the marines, I do whatever I want and what I want is to make you happy.”

“Then I wish to keep traveling, I don’t want to go home yet. I heard from the kind lady running the Inn of a local island with beautiful fields of tulips this time of year.”

“Then we’ll go.” Simple as that.

To think, true love had found her, something she never thought she’d have had. She only needed to survive tests of faith, of demons turned devil fruit users attempting to kill her, of life on the sea. But Sabine wouldn’t change anything, not even when the nightmares returned, because she was happy, she was safe– the two were only caught up in each other, tantalized with the other, nothing could break what melded them.

Her future, their future… she couldn’t wait.

posted: june 17 2025

taglist: @honeybeezgobzzzzz @mythical-goth @iraaiitz @moonmaiden1996 @gizamalblythe @anonymousewrites

#hhighkey’s decode #opla #mihawk #one piece mihawk #mihawk fanfiction #dracule mihawk #mihawk x oc #opla fanfic #smut #age gap

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hhighkey · 1 month ago

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An Ode to…, part 2 // Feitan, one shot - part of hhighkey’s phantom troupe universe series

Rating: mature

Story Contains: Stockholm syndrome, kidnapping and stalking, emotional and physical violence/abuse, isolation, torture, punishments, possessive behavior, rough sex, unprotected sex, overstimulation, period sex, murder, female reader, etc

Note: wc ~19k, part 1 is here xxx, AO3 here xxx

The hands of the clock hovered over 2PM. Repetitive ticking sounded like bells chiming in your head, your body out of pure habit rising from the couch. Like a ghost you padded along the hardwood floor as your gown fluttered behind, exhaustion pulled at your limbs but you pushed through. The bed was the place you were to be for your midday nap, like clockwork as it was routine.

Any lingering anxiety over the time and thoughts of being disobedient were expelled as soon as you switched into a nightgown, throwing back the covers. As soon as you were comfy, confined within the blankets gripping a plushie, your eyelids closed and sleep overtook.

Fitless dreams came to you often now compared to years ago at the start of your life with Feitan. Had it been years? Maybe, but you’re certain it’s been at least a year and a half, maybe more as the snow on the ground was beginning to melt. At times you’d dream of the night you first shared a bed, your first kiss and how you longed for him for weeks after. Or how only your jealous outburst forced him to act on his own insecurities. At points the facts seemed to mesh, all unimportant as it led you two together.

An hour went by before the front door opened and slammed behind a dark figure. Feitan’s coat dropped to the floor, a trickle of blood falling to the hardwood. It was not his own, his mood was poor even so, the events of last night rather daunting. All he wanted was to watch you go about your day, watch you read, watch you bathe, even watch you breathe.

Yesterday, Shalnark found proof that the organization of Hunters narrowed in on them and their partners were looking for Uvo and Phinks’s girls. That they were going to take them to the Base, but it went wrong. How he saw the terror in Phinks when they couldn’t find his lover, the worry and how he’d smashed one of the Hunters to mush when he did not give answers. And the relief he saw when Phinks cradled her upon Shal and Uvo finding her.

Feitan was well aware how easily that could be him, so he wanted his sights on you ASAP. Until then, he wasn't able to breathe as normal.

Nothing could pass by Feitan’s razor sharp senses when it came to his surroundings, so the first thing he noticed was the lack of life. You aren’t there to greet him with your bright eyes and a smile, or concern on if he’d been hurt when away.

When it comes to you, he’s irrational, he knows it. You’re his weakness through and through, something he’s had to come to accept and live with. Because being without you in any capacity would be torturous, would feel like being burned alive if it were anything like his panic. Just seconds of thinking you’ve left, been injured, had him on fire and ready to split someone open. Fingers flexing from the tight tension in him.

But it’s the time that’s soothing him, it’s 3PM. Without realizing it he’s briskly moving towards your shared bedroom.

A weight taken from his shoulders. He straightens slightly, heart wrenching against his ribs to be closer to you. How cute you looked huddled under a heap of blankets, even the warmth of the house did little to protect you from the chill of the winter storm brewing outside. A cold draft always seeps up from the basement, Feitan made another note to have it fixed. He found anger at himself at how your lips tinged purple, body shivering every few minutes.

Unfounded alarm rose in his chest, his hand jutting out to press against your forehead. You felt normal, so you couldn’t have the chills at least. A sigh of relief left him. Brows pinching as a disgust towards his incessant worrying curdled inside.

He discarded his raging emotions under the shower stream before making sure to toss his bloodied clothes out of sight. Next he made sure all signs of blood on the floor were gone. It didn’t matter that you knew of his occupation, he no longer wanted you seeing pieces of it unless you chose to watch him in the basement. He liked when you chose him, chose it, chose discomfort so he could feel a sense of pride. But he wanted to keep you away from it more and more as time went on, and wanted to wrap you up from all evil things of the world. Except that would include him, he’s pretty sure.

The sound of the running water hadn’t woken you. Still you slept soundly, a tiny sigh sounding like music to his ears.

“So good.” Feitan cooed darkly, his languid fingers brushing a piece of your hair out of your face.

Each day after lunch Feitan had slowly instituted a required rest, that getting a nap served your health for the better in the long run. That eating specific food groups at certain times of day was really for the best. Not that he had the background to insist on such.

He let you sleep a little longer, basking in your angelic glow that made his heart sing. How tight you wound him inside, round and round until his strings were so taut they could snap and he’d be gone. Any little movement or quirk of yours filled his stomach with an onslaught of butterflies that used to make him feel sick. How he enjoyed the painful spasms and lurches within him, making him feel alive.

“Fei?” You whimpered, hand swatting at the air as some unintelligible murmurings passed your lips.

Dim light streamed through open parts of the curtains, your surroundings hazy as you attempted to pry open your eyes. They felt so heavy, as if your lashes had been glued shut. Cold dense air assaulted your lungs and skin, and all you wanted was to collapse back into the warm paradise that was your bed.

But fingers prodded at you and you could make out his outline as you wrench your eyelids open. Immediately feeling his overbearingly dark aura as if it were attempting to suffocate you, but in a way it brought comfort. That smothering you needed as if it were a lifeline, as a second of autonomy put you into overdrive.

“Sleep okay?” Feitan asked as he helped you sit up.

You groaned in response, shaking your head as you pawed at your eyes. Feitan’s eyes glittered with something unknown as he watched how cute yet vulnerable you were as he brushed your bedhead down. You involuntarily moved into his hand, the warmth and familiarity comforting as you still came to.

“Come. Snack before dinner later.”

Feitan had to practically hold you up as he pulled you from the bed, then the room to head towards the kitchen. This was the worst part, your sockless feet cold on the wood floors, goosebumps up your arms and legs. The thin gown doing nothing to shield you from the shock going from coziness to the chilly air of the house. But Feitan was relentless with your schedule; when and how you did things compared to when he once left you to your devices.

He fidgeted while he watched you eat grapes he carefully skinned then cut in half.

You swore this was how a parent would prepare their little child’s food! But as of late his work for the Spider’s seemed to grow, more pressure to it as he did little to fill you in as to why the sudden changes. You wonder if it’s because Uvogin’s wife passed away or got sicker. You think she’s alive, but you aren’t sure. Limited contact and all.

You can see the stress written on Feitan’s face when he thinks you aren’t looking, you can feel the changes in him enough to not protest his weird overbearing behavior. The last two months of it all you chalk it up to Feitan realizing he could lose you or see you suffer in the ways Uvo’s wife has. Or selfishly he didn’t want to go through what his fellow Troupe member was.

“Fei.” You stare at him, too cold to want to finish the fruit, “I’m freezing.”

His eyes widened, then he looked you up and down before he darted out the room. This was how it had been going since winter started, him forgetting when he thrusted you from bed you’d be poorly dressed for the chill. Quickly, he was back with thick socks, sweats, and hoodie. He dressed you even as you proclaimed you could do it yourself, which he smirked feeling your glare on him.

“Sorry.”

“I know how to chew my food, I won’t choke on some grapes.”

“Don’t care. Will help you if must.”

You shook your head knowing he meant he’d physically hold your jaw to make sure you were chewing proper. He’d done it before so he’d more than likely do it again.

A chill went down your spine as you remembered last winter with him, so new into your captivi- life with him. How alone you’d been trying to understand what he wanted from you as you mourned everything. But it was the memory of the first time he touched you after beginning a new routine into watching you without hiding. He’d been upset at how quick you were eating some noodles, jutting his hand out to stop your jaw from moving. It practically burned you. It sent blaring red into your mind and a nasty type of nerves down your limbs, stomach in knots. How it had disgusted you then, but now you debated purposely eating too fast to force him to act. To touch you.

And you do it, swiftly scoop up more of the fruits and popped them in your mouth. You swore Feitan’s eyes bulged outwards before his fingers were tight on your jaw.

“Stop it.”

You couldn’t stop the smirk as you chewed defiantly before Feitan forced your jaw closed. Even with the minimal strength he used to not hurt you, you couldn’t open it. So the sweet mushed up grapes stayed in your teeth and on your tongue. His eyes simmered with annoyance rather than anger.

“Not funny.” Before he let go of your face he added, “Letting go now, chew slow then swallow.”

Listening to his directions, he seemed pleased as you opened your mouth to let him see everything went down alright.

“Good.”

You’d have done it again if there were more grapes, to see what other sort of rise you could get from him; but you get a sense something’s wrong. Feitan was peculiar; you understood him and his moods fairly well by now. The bite to his words, a slight aura of annoyance had you on an edge that hurt. Panging in your chest as a thick glob of bile seemed to place itself in your throat as your mind desperately raced to read him.

“Fei? You okay?” And you waited in silence.

Still unsure how to bear his soul to you or explain his complex emotions- when you asked if he was okay, he always stilled. He was okay, technically. Perfectly fine. But he doesn’t think you need to hear about last night’s disaster. That he’s worried you’ll be taken from him and he’ll be naught to protect you.

“Yes. Fine.”

“You’re not.” You purse your lips, “You left yesterday suddenly. What happened?”

“Don’t worry.”

That only made your stomach churn with worry as you swallowed down your nerves, “Feitan, I want you to tell me things. I can handle it.”

“No.”

“But I can handle watching you torture people?”

He glared and it caused you to shrink back. Too far.

“There are… things going on.”

What a detailed response, you think to yourself. You feel some relief in his stubbornness because if you’d done something wrong he would not keep it to himself. You’d be punished, which you couldn’t clearly remember when the last one had been. So after all these months you were able to carefully deduce his mood wasn’t of your doing.

You sighed, head falling to your hands as you massage your temples. Remnants of fog from your interrupted nap still lingered in the corners of your mind and vision.

“Are you mad?” Feitan’s soft dulcet tore you out of the trance you were beginning to fall into. Into your own thoughts of doubt and wonder what it could be that had him closing off. So you couldn’t hide the surprise at the fact he was asking if you were upset. Feitan primarily asked questions to inquire about you, to know details he couldn’t find out for himself, so maybe asking your thoughts in this moment made sense. If he could have it his way, he’d have a direct line to each crevice of your brain, to your consciousness itself.

“Not mad, just…” You groan as you prod harshly against your skin before sitting up straight. His eyes are on you, squinting through his black hair that needed a trim. He looked more like an angry puppy than anything, almost foolish to think he once terrified you, “Sad I guess.”

“Explain more.” He demanded. Always so demanding.

“I don’t want to always be in the dark when it comes to your work. If it involves you… I want to know.” You immediately worry you took your words too far again, your stomach lurched. Suddenly you were well aware of the stillness in the air, that the sky outside was already dimming.

His frown didn’t let up, “Only tell you what need to know.”

“Okay.” Your bottom lip trembled. A strong wave of emotion came over you, one you wished you could push down or understand why it was there in the first place. Nauseating smell of something metallic mixed with the tang of the fruit you’d eaten made you want to hurl.

One of his hands carefully places itself atop your head, you stiffen.

“Worry too much, not good for your health.”

He removed the hand from your head with one last pat, before he held it out for you to take. You don’t hesitate as his cold fingers burn against your warmer ones as you rise to your feet, his grip not wavering.

You’re just shorter than him, so you flick your eyes slightly up to meet his. He looked softer now and you enjoy that he’s closer. You want to move in, force yourself against him and take in everything he had to offer. Wanted to feel his strong arms around you as he’d clumsily play with strands of your hair, feel how he needed to have contact with your skin and hold you close. But even this seemed distant. You couldn’t describe it.

Suddenly you’re pulled to his chest, at such a speed you swear the breath was stolen right from your lungs. But you melt into him. Mind and body swimming in an electric joy that jolted through you at his touch. Feeling how his heart was racing showed you all you needed to know about how he felt towards you. A seemingly desperation in his touch, how he held you taut, head buried into your shoulder as he breathed in the faint smell of lilac that emanated from you. And you took in the fresh pine of his damp hair, telling you he must have showered before waking you.

You freeze, had he needed to shower prior because of blood? Was he hurt?

Feitan felt the way you stiffened in a way he did not like. There should never be a way for you to flinch within his loving(?) embrace, or as much of one he could muster.

So Feitan yanks you back, grip tight on your shoulders as he peered at you, looking for answers.

“Something wrong.” He stated.

“You showered?”

“Yes.”

“You always wake me- did you get hurt?”

The sudden restriction around his heart and lungs that would quickly happen due to you, vanished at your concern. He hated being away from you. Hated not knowing your thoughts or what you did without him. He wished he could hover over you at all times, be up inside you so that you’d never be apart from him again.

His grip loosened as if he’d deemed you’d done nothing that deserved such a response, sometimes the torturer cursed his overly fast and violent senses.

“Not hurt. Someone else’s blood.”

“Oh. Did it get anywhere? Do I-”

“I took care of it.”

You nod in relief, pushing yourself back against him as if forcing him to embrace you. Flinging your arms around his neck you squeeze, enjoying how he hugged your waist tight in return. It felt so natural to hold each other like this, you thought. Especially after the incessant panic you had at how abruptly he left.

Feitan relaxed ever so slightly, seemingly going lax in your embrace as he shuddered from your touch. Shuddered from the way your fingers massaged into the nape of his neck up to his scalp.

“Fei, will you please tell me what’s wrong?” You hum, “Making me nervous.”

Reluctantly he gave you more to go off of, “I will later, when I know more.”

You nod against his collarbone, nuzzling your nose further into him as you let his scent relax you.

“Come, watch something?”

You knew he meant the second movie in a horror trilogy he convinced you to watch. Somehow he still couldn’t imagine why you were adverse to body horror. Or he pretended not to care, using any chance to get you shaking in his arms using him as a shield from the screen.

He settled you next to him like he did for everything you watched in the living room. Needing your hip bone smushed against his. Needed one of his arms looped around you and settled beneath the hoodie to touch your skin. He’d trace circles along you, experimenting how he affected you with each chance in motion or pressure. Liked to memorize the crevices of your body even in the dark to memorize them past that of sight.

Feitan never focused on the movies he turned on. He focused on you watching (or hiding) from said movies. He focused on every reaction from a hiked pulse or flinch in your facial features. He’d smirk each time you’d shield your eyes with your hands, squeaking at a jump scare or trying to use his chest to recede into.

By the end of the movie you’re practically in his lap and almost hysterical watching a woman tied up and tortured.

The noise from the TV zoned out, your mouth opening and stopping. Pupils dilated as a wave of recognition of yourself or even others in the woman on the screen. The woman you’d been jealous of. It wasn’t often you went to the basement anymore. It’d been months. But it made you feel like you were there once more. Cold, vulnerable, and trapped.

Pinching at your waist, Feitan cocked a head at how you’d frozen and eyes glued to the screen. His time to feel jealousy, that you watched the murderer on screen with an intensity that he wanted on himself. You hadn’t watched him in so long!

But when tears welled in your lash line, drop after drop cascaded down your cheeks falling down your jaw to your neck– Feitan panicked.

Your body is hoisted and pushed down to the couch with an umph leaving you. Heart hammering all the way up in your throat from the suddenness. Feitan loomed over you blocking the TV with wild eyes and messy hair as he glared along your body. Hands pinned above your head, him moving to straddle you even as you lay pliant.

“Why crying? What happened?”

Your lower lip trembled as you shook your head, “Don’t…”

“Tell. I’m asking.”

You felt as if you’d ruined the movie even if he’d seen it a million times before. Feitan hadn’t showed you horror films involving such systematic torture in a way that could remind you of him. Your stomach sank. Today was volatile, throwing you every which way and you wanted peace, not to be filled with anxious butterflies.

“That- made me think of you… Of how y-you cut me and then that woman you killed because I was jealous.”

His grip loosened. He flinched, not liking the reminder of how he’d hurt you so long ago. As much as he liked seeing his name etched into your skin, he felt sick about how it got there. For once blood and hurting another person made him sick- you hurt in any capacity made him suffer.

His face moved centimeters from yours, “That woman, would have died anyway. Not because you. My job.”

Yes, job. You swallow nodding, reminding yourself her death wasn’t your fault as a gut wrenching feeling began to bubble. Then it dissipated as a pinkish haze wafted over you as Feitan’s face grew closer and you could feel his breath.

Screams in the background from the TV became null. Your focus is all on Feitan as he hesitantly grazes his lips along yours. It shot sparks through you. A winding knot of need unraveling within you as you whimper, begging him to close the gap.

Feitan takes your whimper as his cue, pressing his lips coldly to yours with force. You’d take anything he’d give you. Your fingers digging into his biceps as a high pitched whine came from the depths of your throat as your lips molded against his. He kissed you like you’d suddenly disappear any second. All his fears from last night at the thought of Hunters coming for you, came out as he shakes, as he holds you tight he may leave bruises. As his lips fervently move against yours and his tongue shoves its way in, it’s as if he’s trying to eat you whole, consume you as he knows no other way. Feitan’s love was a swirling darkness so finite in its evil and wrongness, that it was uncertain at times. A man of his talents, using caution with you, second guessing each word and intimate notion.

Your bodies intertwine in a heated desire as the hoodie he changed you into was hiked up, his fingers prodding every inch of you. You writhe beneath him, tug on his hair as the kiss grows wetter, restraint to the wayside as your saliva mixed, as it dripped from the corners of your mouths.

It endeared you how at times Feitan could be so awkward, his touch reminiscent of that as a school boy in love through possessive touches and the inability to properly convey emotions through words and actions alike. Even his glowering from a corner as he watched you was a way he showed his feelings.

Ruining the moment was the shrill ringing of a phone. Feitan jerked away, an annoyed look as he huffed to grab his phone. If someone called, it was important you noticed.

“What.” Feitan spat into the phone as he answered.

You watched carefully, still disheveled from the heated moment you’d just shared. So you try to smooth down your hair as you attempt to listen.

But Feitan goes pale, paler than usual and his eyes are fixed on you with an expression you cannot decipher.

“Huh?” You inquire, your stomach feeling like it’s plummeting to the floor.

“One second.” He says, marching back over, grabbing the TV remote. You don’t know how to do it yourself, but he switches the input and changes it to the news. You’re in awe at that, wondering if he’d show you how to do that, to have access to the outside somehow.

When you look closer, reading the headline about parents making a plea for their missing daughter, your brows knit together. In light of new information from Hunters, they think she may be a victim of the Phantom Troupe like two other girls that popped up on the Hunter website.

They look like you, you note. The upturn of the woman’s nose, the eyes of the man. Then it struck you, nausea skyrocketing in your chest. A massive ache of pure longing. Those were your parents you were seeing for the first time in so long. Your parents making a plea to find their daughter, for her captor to bring her back. Because that was an old picture of you they held onto, in a frame you made as a child.

As Feitan sees the confusion on your face turn to recollection, the screen turns black. His hands shake, furiously, unlike anything you’d seen from him before. He’s trembling as the careful control he had (or believed he had) slipped through his fingers. A mixture of anger and distress coursing through him as it felt everything he meticulously worked to build was crumbling down. The year he spent watching you. The nine-ish months gaining your trust. And now almost a year of calling you his- could all go to the wayside now. Back to square one.

He brings his phone back to his ear, unable to look at you in case he sees fear in your eyes, “When can you be here?”

“Fei?” Your thoughts are muddled, hairs on the back of your neck standing tall.

And it worsens as he walks away, causing alarm bells to go off in your head. You look back to the blank TV screen relaying the events that happened suddenly, over and over again they flash in your mind. The images of your teary eyed parents with an old picture of you in hand, ingrained itself into you. It brought you to tears as you hugged your arms around yourself, tucking your legs to your chest. Your forehead rests atop your knees, faint sniffles all that could be heard amongst the chilly silence that reverberated throughout the house

You don’t want to leave. This was your home, you hadn’t been past the perimeter of the house’s yard. But Feitan told you to pack a bag and now you sat on the couch waiting for him.

Nothing had been clarified. All you wanted was for him to explain more, to tell you what you were doing. Was he shipping you off? You can’t fathom being without him for longer than the periods he’s gone for work.

You’re so caught up inside yourself you don’t hear the front door opening or the sound of footsteps coming into the living room.

“Hey- you Y/N?”

You jump where you sit, whirling to see a blonde man with bright blue eyes waving at you.

You nod at his question, shock in your eyes as you take in his awfully bright clothing.

“I’m Shalnark, I work with Feitan. He downstairs?”

You nod again.

“I can take your stuff for you.” He strides over to you and you shuffle backwards into the couch, eying him warily.

He jutted out his hand towards you with a friendly smile.

Before you can react, a quick breeze of a fast moving figure causes some of your hairs to blow back. A new hand shot out to slap him away, as if they raced to be in the room.

“No touching.” Feitan says darkly, positioning himself between you and Shalnark.

“Ah forgot you’re like… crazy possessive Fei. Phinks did say handshakes aren’t allowed, oops.” Shalnark laughs but it wasn’t innocent, something else you weren’t expecting.

Feitan’s protectiveness always made your heart soar. Something about how he wouldn’t allow a friend to get within your bubble, made you feel loved. That only he could touch you? Twisted, you knew, but still relief went through you as you worried how he felt since seeing the news. Didn’t like how he’d gone radio silent since, racing about not telling you his thoughts. Letting you stew on your own.

Huffing, Feitan grabbed a jacket and scarf, motioning for you to stand.

“Here.” He dressed you in the warmer clothes, more than likely upset about having you outside when snow still sat on the ground. He zipped your jacket, then looped the scarf around so it shielded your mouth and nose.

“Just going to the car, she won’t freeze.” Shalnark chuckled, “You’re insane.”

Leaving the house as night falls, you tremble and not due to the drop in temperature. You’re herded into the backseat of a car and Feitan tosses a blanket atop you. The door slams. You’re left there, looking around since you haven't been in a vehicle in so long that everything looks foreign.

Shalnark gets in the driver seat and you squirm.

“You should probably take the coat off unless you want to burn to death.” He teases.

As if it’s a direction, you follow it without thinking. You didn’t realize the hellscape that heavy coat was turning your temperature into until it was off, and you felt you could breathe. But you still gripped the blanket Feitan left, like it were an imaginary shield from the stranger in the front.

“Your stuff’s in the trunk. Fei is getting everything he’ll need right now.”

“Th..ank you.” It’s barely above a whisper.

“You talk!”

He isn’t what you expect as a Spider. Though, Phinks wasn’t entirely what you imagined either though much scarier than this blonde. You assumed all of them were dark and mysterious like Feitan, and that thought makes you giggle to yourself.

“I’m guessing Fei hasn’t told you anything?”

“No…”

“Not surprised, he’s definitely one of the most secretive of the group. I’ll fill you in on the drive while he sulks.”

You decide you like Shalnark, hopefully Feitan lets you talk with him more as he seems kind. And definitely not because you haven’t had a conversation with another person in two years!

Feitan ends up double- and triple checking that your seatbelt is properly buckled before Shalnark could drive away. The way he fussed made you want to kiss his flushed cheeks against the wind, made you want to beg him to cuddle you but he felt so far away once he slammed the door and sat in the passenger seat. Your eyes burned.

You listened to Shalnark as he did his best to explain what was going on, as it distracted you from Feitan who hadn’t turned to look at you once. He said nothing, you’re sure sending glares whenever Shalnark got into territory he shouldn’t.

The gist you understood is; a separate group of Hunters seemed to target the Troupe for a period of time and one of the leaders took a liking to Uvogin’s girl and kidnapped her. It took four months to find and get her back. Then last night, Shalnark found someone had uploaded Uvogin and Phinks’s partners to a Hunter website to signal they were in danger, which resulted in Hunters ambushing Phinks and almost kidnapping his girlfriend. Which was why Feitan had rushed out so suddenly yesterday and seemed panicked, especially after the news. Your supposed whereabouts were told to your parents which spurred the press conference.

And honestly? You aren’t sure how you felt taking in the globs of fast moving information. There had been so much going on for so long that Feitan never told you, you wish he had. You did your best not to cry in the back of the car. But your reflection in the window as dark trees flew by, it was impossible not to see the glimmering of tears.

The last time you thought about your parents… months ago. You were never particularly close after a tough upbringing, your disappearance properly went unknown for days, maybe weeks to them before realizing something was amiss. Something at the back of your mind tells you to keep your thoughts about them to yourself, that it was the sight of you seeing them that set Feitan off into his silence, his extreme moodiness that had you second guessing.

It’s well past the time Feitan would have had you go to bed normally, because your eyelids feel heavy.

Using the blanket as a makeshift pillow, you lean against the door, head staring into the darkness. And eventually, as tears slip down your cheeks, you fall asleep.

You don’t wake as the car comes to a stop outside an apartment building in a neighboring city. You don’t wake as your body is carried in Feitan’s arms out into the early morning moments before the sunrise. You don’t wake as you're set onto a bed, carefully tucked in. And you don’t wake as he places a gentle kiss on your forehead.

Feitan hovered over you as you slept, watching the way your chest rose then fell. Soft sighs passing your lips that made his stomach fill with butterflies.

He can’t stop himself from sitting on the edge of the bed, fingers carefully tracing the accessible parts of your body. Inside he was swirling with self doubt. Felt on the edge of exploding from incompetence in all this. He wonders if you’re still thinking about your parents, that you want to be with them. He worries if you want to leave him now, if he’ll lose you, if you would try an escape.

Like all those months ago, when he watched you run around outside for the first time, he’s retreating into himself. Shutting down as the years in Meteor City come haunting upon him as undeserving and incapable of love, that he’s a monster for stealing you away. He knows he’s a monster. Never even thought of the Troupe as a family, only sees you as his life, the one he wants to serve besides the leader. And how supportive (thankful really) Chrollo was that he found you, that he opened himself to you.

But all he knew was death, hurting others, how to draw out their pain and make them scream. He enjoyed it. Savored it as music to his ears, greater than any symphony.

He won’t ask you about your thoughts, he’s decided. He won’t be able to handle hearing you say you miss your family. He’s worried what he might do if you ask to see them.

Like when Feitan wondered for months whether he should kill you during the early stages of him following you- he begins to consider killing your family. If they weren’t so far away, days of travel away, he’d have gone as soon as possible. He won’t allow anyone to have you or to consume your thoughts.

His fists clench so much his nails broke the skin, his blood pooling in his palms as he opened them in surprise.

He looks to you in panic to make sure you weren’t stirring.

Leave. He knows he has to get distance. He’ll hurt you if he stays any longer.

Without a second glance, Feitan races out the room, the door closing hard behind him. His chest heaving in surprise of his own emotions taking over, chest tight, feeling like something had its claws clutching his heart. That it dug so painfully, with its sharp nails he wanted to cry out, wanted to lash out.

A vase on the coffee table went flying across the room before it smashed, its porcelain pieces scattering.

Shalnark jumped from his spot at a computer at a dining room table, “Fei? What the fuck?”

“Leave me be.”

“Our info girl is gonna kill us for that.”

“We shouldn’t be here.” Feitan insisted with venom in his words.

“We weren’t gonna make it to Base tonight, relax. This is one of two outside people boss trusts. It’s fine.”

“You know that’s not issue.”

“Not my problem. Go take a walk, get your anger out another way then destroy furniture. Might wake your missus.”

Feitan, as smooth and unnoticeable as a shadow was out the apartment and into the night. Stalking along the alleys escaping the rising sun best he could waiting for the perfect prey. And there it was. A drunken man in a stupor, spewing disgusting words into the wind like it’d wronged him, stumbling about. There didn’t need to be reasons behind what Feitan did, for why he chose to torture or kill. The man is simply at the wrong place, at an unfortunate time as a dark, deathly aura overcame him.

You wake to a room you’ve never seen before, alone. You’re up in an instant, sitting straight and looking around for any signs of Feitan. Nothing.

Your heart is racing already, it hurts as you stumble from the bed, immediately met with the floor. Pain shot up your knees from the impact.

Shakily getting up, you go for the door but stop. Your fingers gently touch the door knob as you debate what to do, worry if you’re allowed to leave his room or not. A new environment had you on edge, had your stomach churning.

A silent sob left you as you clamp your hand over your mouth. Everything feels like the first time you woke up in the attic. The confusion. The denial. The fear. It felt as if you were assaulted with the memories, similar smells and noises swirling within you. You couldn’t move, stuck in front of the door like a waiting animal for its owner.

Like you were possessed you retreat back to the bed. And sit. And wait.

Until a soft knock sounded on the door, it opened to a woman with dark long hair. Something about her sent a chill down your spine, the uncanny look across her face and how she cocked her head with a smile.

“Good morning!”

You stared at her.

“I’ve been soooo bored waiting for you to wake or the others to get back. Heard you shufflin’ around the door.”

Your blank stare doesn’t falter.

“Name’s Isla, not a part of the Troupe but I knew the leader back in Meteor City for some time, you can trust me.”

Meteor City? You don’t know what that is.

“Wh-Where’s Feitan?” You ask, fingers finding solace in locking together tightly.

“Him and Shal are out right now, you’ll be back on the road once they’re back.” She shrugged, “Hungry?”

Nodding you stand, legs wobbling as you take steps forward. Another female is a sight for sore eyes, you’re keening at the sight of her. There’s suddenly a tsunami of words sitting on the tip of your tongue you want to spew. How you missed comradery with another girl, so you let her guide you out the room.

“This is my apartment.”

“It’s nice…” You respond quietly, following.

“Thanks!”

She’s too upbeat for the person you are now, yet it never crosses your mind that the person you once were could have been more similar. You feel overwhelmed as she talks about the art hanging and as she tugs you into a chair in the kitchen. She’s all over opening and closing cabinets, making you flinch as things are tossed mindlessly to the counter.

“Are eggs okay? I’m not a great cook.”

“That's good.. Thank you.”

“My my, you’re so polite. Salt and pepper?”

You nod for ‘yes.’

You debate helping her, the first few cooked on the stove looking inedible. Too much char you didn’t think possible for scrambled eggs. But eventually it’s done, and adding more salt to the bowl in front of you and you’re able to eat.

“I didn’t know Feitan had a girlfriend.” Isla finally broke the silence that lasted a few minutes while you ate.

“Y-yeah.” Your heart leapt. He did refer to and thought of you as his girlfriend! You’re overjoyed by her words and a smile can’t help but form.

“How’d you two meet?” She asked innocently, but you missed the glint behind her eyes as you focused on setting your fork down with care. You weren’t adept enough to see she wasn’t someone to tell things to, she was just as sneaky, as malicious as someone in the troupe.

“Oh uh.. He thought I was interesting I suppose..”

Isla chuckled, “Don’t need to say much more, it’s obvious.”

You swallow hard, avoiding her knowing look. Avoiding her eyes that seem to be laughing at you as if it was pathetic. How easily you went from finding solace in a female face, to dread filling you.

“I know some of the guys in the Troupe are looking for this.. Expensive video game that uses nen, not sure if you know what that is. You should ask him sometime, but hey, do you know if Feifei’s read the newest Brown book?”

“I-I don’t know.” Feifei that nickname twisted your insides. The thought of a girl spending time with Feitan while you were stuck at home in the attic or staring out the window… doesn’t sit right.

She ate you alive as you shrunk back, had you where she wanted you because Isla loved to watch others suffer and squirm even if it took embellishment.

“You know, I’ve fucked your boyfriend a few times before.”

You look as if you’ve seen a ghost, all color draining instantly. Stomach flitting painfully. Bile rises in your throat. You feel queasy, about to throw up from her words. How they shot to kill you, to hurt you, to get a reaction.

“I- Excuse me.” And it’s all she’ll get out of you. No over the top reaction, just you standing and fleeing back to your room. Out of her sight but you swore you heard her over the top giggle.

Back in the room, there’s relief at the fact there’s an attached bathroom. More walls between you and Isla.

It was then it hit you- a realization that made you go cold, feel faint as you dropped to the tiled floors, squirming into a ball.

Feitan had a life outside of you.

You didn’t have a life outside of him.

You hadn't a clue the things that were talked about- didn’t know of Feitan’s interest in a magic (nen? You’d never heard of that before) video game. Didn’t know of his favorite books aside from the general horror genre. Didn’t know about any of the women he’d slept with unlike him knowing he was your first. Stupidly perhaps, you assumed you were his first with how strange a man he was. Sick jealousy bubbled from your stomach to your chest, pressing against your ribs as a painful ache made you want to break down.

And you’d never been able to buy him a gift before! Your own boyfriend.

He’d stated you were his life. But in actuality he was yours. His life was the Troupe. And you wondered how long you’d be in the backseat of that said life with him. You wonder how important you really are. You wonder if there had ever been someone else or if he would tire of you. You wonder if Isla meant they’d been intimate while he was with you, why she didn’t know of you. You’re left reeling, doubting, numb.

Panic strikes you down to your very core. A heavy wave pummeling your body as you seemed to thrash about, unable to swim up to breathe. Stuck in a whirlpool of overwhelming emotion, like the floodgates of your mind could no longer hold everything back to protect you.

You feel trapped, like the walls began to pinch in as your head spins. A ceaseless, high pitched note droning on in your ears that made you want to scream. Like your skin was about to burst from your bones and nerves, like something stirred beneath the surface that had you spiraling.

It hurt. You can’t breathe, you think, each intake of air a struggling gasp.

And the tears come. They fall so heavy as the dam breaks, as they cascade down amongst your blubbering as you sob, hiccup, try to regain composure. Until eventually you lay there staring at the tub sideways, blurry vision and praying this was a nightmare you’d wake from. In that moment your mind screams Feitan doesn’t love you, you’re nothing but pathetic and weak, nowhere near as pretty as the woman outside. That Feitan regretted taking you.

How long did you lay there?

How long before the door opened and hands grabbed your body to force you upright?

Feitan hugged your body with a racing pulse, terrified as he found you limp on the bathroom floor after you weren’t in bed. When he and Shalnark came back, the smug look on Isla’s face told him all he needed to know.

He strokes your hair. Fumbles with you because he doesn’t know how to comfort, how to be a comforting person.

You stare at him like he’s not there. He furiously wipes at your cheeks, at the dried tears to try to soothe you.

And like so long ago- you don’t want him to touch you. You brush him off. You push away and scoot to the corner. Feitan’s shocked, he can’t even be mad per say, not with what you may be thinking.

“Fei we gotta go.” Shalnark called.

He knows it’s time to leave, but you won’t look at him and you’re shaking like a newborn kitten in the corner. Even when he cut into you, it wasn’t like this. The thought crosses his mind to kill Isla, she isn’t a Troupe member, but Chrollo would still be upset. He thinks angering the boss would be worth it, he hadn’t slept with Isla since he was 22, six years ago. He’s known you for three, had you with him for two. Hadn’t even seen Isla for work purposes in four. He’s reeling.

“Y/N… Come here. It’s okay.”

No response.

He scooched closer, “I know.. What she told you..” Closer, “True, years ago before I found you. Phinks wanted me to have experience, I knew her so… You’re only person, my person. Only person I’ve slept with in many, many years. Only person I want to be with.”

Bearing those words to you, bearing his full soul was like stabbing a knife through him repeatedly. No. It hurt worse, but necessary. Necessary to remind him how his life was in your hands. How the pain meant he loved you and losing you would kill him.

“You- didn’t have sex with her while we’ve been together?” You perked up.

“No.”

You nod, relieved. You had to take his words at face value, had to or you’d probably lose any sense of purpose. Any will to live. Because the alternative?

He pushed into your bubble, cupping your cheek and forcing his lips onto yours. You cry into him, hands pushing against his muscular chest. You feel like you're drowning in your own self doubt, barely able to kiss him back as you collapse. And he holds you, petting your head.

How blankly you look at him as you push away, makes his brows raise and hands stop mid action on your waist.

“I- don’t know much about you. What’s meteor city? You like video games? I know you like horror movies but- never seen you read them... Y-You have a whole life… Without me. Wh-When you’re my.. Whole life.”

And how’s a sadist, a masochist, a ruthless man supposed to respond? He’s taken so much advice from Chrollo and Phinks since you came into his life, but nothing that would help him now. Not when his primary language isn’t one anyone else speaks, so he can barely translate every profound emotion he has into words you’ll understand. His main language is violence, in a sense. So what he wants to do is break something, wants to shake you until you understand how much you mean to him. How did you not see you owned him? He’d do anything for you!

“No life without you.”

You shake your head, “No no no-”

He forces you against him again. Squeezing, a slight rocking to his body as he gracelessly cradles you. His instincts are to maim, but he pushes down thoughts to pin you down to force you to see his feelings. He thinks about carving into your skin again, or into his own, or he’d let you do so! He’d scar himself for you unless it was you who’d want to do so. That he’d let you bleed him, mark him as yours.

“Stop fighting.” He grunted, “Be still.”

You stop squirming seemingly upon command. After a few seconds he tugged you to your feet, looking you over.

“Hurt yourself?”

“No.”

“Good.” He presses a chaste kiss to your forehead before resting his against it. Your noses touch and it's surreal how wildly his heart is beating. You can feel it, almost hear it and it chokes you up.

Your bloodshot eyes stare into his after a few moments and he scowls at the sight.

“Don’t like it when you cry.” Feitan mumbled.

“Sorry.”

“No- Don’t. I should not have left you with her. I will.. Tell you more about me. I’ll answer your questions later, we have to go first.”

“Okay. Fei.. Thank you.” You sniffle, wiping at your face.

It’s a soft smile that he gives you, barely there, but still one nonetheless. Or you’d imagine it on account if he were capable it’d be there, but how his eyes softened, in your mind he smiled.

You don’t want to face Isla again as you ready to leave, Shalnark going over something on a phone. You stand awkwardly near the front door as Feitan races around before settling back by your side.

He takes your hand into his, intertwining your fingers and you stare down in awe. It’s only ever been the two of you, purely understanding in your feelings so no excessive need of hand holding or cuddling. You couldn’t go anywhere and when he was home he followed your every move. While he liked to touch your skin, liked to watch you squeal as he shoved cold hands beneath your shirt, this was different. A good different though.

Feitan tugs you as if you were a ragdoll out the door behind Shalnark. You can hear Isla call out, ‘Sorry Y/N, wanted to see you squirm! Haven’t seen Feitan in years!’ So you realize she’s more evil than her innocent look let on, though your gut had been unsettled the second you saw her. You’re content at least, leaving with a lighter heart than the last hour. Any thoughts of Feitan wanting someone else have been dispelled, you could feel the shift in him as he put himself out of his comfort zone for you. A pep in your step as you walk out into the midday sun, gripping Feitan’s hand as it was your lifeline in the new area. Your surroundings had been the same everyday for so long. The buildings that surround you as you shuffle into the car, feel tall and looming, as if crashing down on you. What should feel like freedom outside the chains that bound you to the house within a forest, felt like a prison.

You spend the rest of the drive to the troupe base sleeping. Sleeping through Feitan and Shalnark’s conversation they had in hushed voices, tension biting at their words. A heavy aura licking along the crevices of the car, dangerous and thick, something you had grown accustomed to as it belonged to Feitan. It's why you didn’t wake up, desensitized to it from all the times spent in the basement.

You dream of Feitan. Of him with another woman, you disregarded to the side as you cry, suffer, feeling the hollow ache the loss of him left. Then you’re spread out on the table in the basement, struggling to be free, begging and reminding him of how much you love him. It ends abruptly, right before Feitan goes to grab pliers.

When you wake, Feitan’s staring at you, having just opened the car door. He looks puzzled, like there’s something he wants to say but he stays quiet, waiting for you to speak first.

“Bad dream…” You murmur. Your muscles stretch out as he helps you out of the car, in an unknown area well hidden. Like it was at the end of the world.

Feitan keeps a hand at the low of your back, “About?”

You speak without much thought, still waking, “You didn’t want me anymore. Tied me to the table…”

“Never.” Is all he can say in response, a ripple inside him of discontent. He sucks a sharp breath in, sighing heavily to expel any tension that builds from your admittal. Wondering what he can do to stop dreams like that, he isn’t sure, but after today he’d be doing overtime damage control. Knows he’ll have to watch you more, make sure you don’t find ways to hurt yourself whether purposeful or not.

Maybe you didn’t want to know the answers to your questions after all. Left with a gigantic hole in your chest over his childhood and what Meteor City was. Gives you the understanding of how Feitan ended up the way he was… Not that you excused his behavior, his interests, his work. Right?

Two weeks have gone by since arriving at the Troupe’s base, which you're pleasantly surprised with. Though it may be the fact you see more people than Feitan you’re pleased with. Not that they converse with you, you sit longingly in Feitan’s room or wherever he is. But listening to others, good enough.

It’s mid day, you think as no clock is around. You find yourself sitting amongst an array of book shelves, Feitan herded you out the room picking a dress he liked on you. So you sat in a flowy pink dress, its billowing sleeves doing little to stop the goosebumps from forming. But it doesn’t matter. It’s almost lost on you as you leaf through a book, enjoying how the words jump off the pages. You eat them up hungrily, eyes scanning the pages at such speed you might have looked mad. With new books all around, you wanted to intake as many as possible before heading home where you’ve read everything.

“Hey, Y/N.”

You barely hear your name called, but you glance upwards as two blurs move from the corner of your eyes garnering your attention.

Phinks and a girl stood a few feet away, dressed for the outdoors.

“Hi.”

“Are you interested in shopping?” The girl asked.

Shopping? Are you allowed to do that? You stare up at her from where you’re huddled on a carpet with books around you.

“Can I?” It’s barely a whisper.

“Does Feitan not take you shopping ever? We’ll probably get dinner afterwards.”

Eating? At a restaurant? Feitan doesn’t take you to do that or shopping. He decides what you need and when unless you specifically tell him differently.

Phinks intervenes then, hand on her shoulder as you don’t miss the way he stutters to find a proper response, “Uh, not our place babe. We’d have to ask Feitan.”

‘Why?,’ you want to ask. It’s on the tip of your tongue and you’re almost angry that Feitan has to allow it. Wouldn’t you be safe with another Spider? You know Feitan is out and rarely answers his cell so there’d be no way to ask. But you’re surging with new life at the thought of an outing. Want sparkling in your eyes, as if you were begging them to bring you since they already asked.

“We should bring her.” A feminine voice adds, one you’ve heard once since arriving.

Pakunoda enters the room, buttoning a heavy jacket. Her presence calms you; it did from the moment you met her in comparison to Isla.

“Tellin’ Feitan it was your idea then.” Phinks grumbled as he nudged his girlfriend to get moving.

“We’ll meet you in the car.” Pakunoda then turns to you, “Go get ready, it’s chilly out, wear good shoes.”

Elation urges you to be quick. A pep in your step as you changed into a more appropriate outfit to head out. Nervous, yet excited butterflies fluttered within you, a smile plastered on your lips. You want to be fast. You don’t want the offer to be rescinded, for Feitan to come back and say no.

In the car, in the back with Pakunoda, you smile as you stare out the window. The only sense of dismay in you is from the lack of Feitan, you daydream about him taking you out. How you could hold hands as you walk like a normal couple. Like how Phinks and his girlfriend were, their banter was funny, and they got along in a way that seemed… human. Seemed natural unlike you with Feitan. But Feitan didn’t talk as much as Phinks or anyone you knew in your past life. And maybe seeing another relationship in front of you made you realize, made you long for that.

You’re in an unknown city. If someone told you this was another continent you’d believe them, because thinking for yourself could be a chore at times. You were vulnerable without Feitan, your protector who knew what you needed and didn’t. Who did all the hard work for you.

Arm looped with Pakunoda you're brimming ear to ear as you look every which way. It makes you think of the first time your father brought you to the city from your tiny town. That buzzing feeling within you, you pushed away. With memories from then, sometimes you had to do that.

“Let’s go in there!” Phinks’s girlfriend squeals, tugging him past a group of people to head to a store.

It’s a department store, primarily women’s clothes decking the walls and stands, delicate and showy, fluorescent lights and sparkly designs to draw attention. Areas of beauty supplies, fragrances and jewelry exist too, and the sight of an escalator fills you with a childish glee. There’s a heavy floral scent- a turkish rose, with the musk of an old woman assaulted with offensive notes the day brought; from the different types of people who trekked through.

Swirling, dense air around you made your head spin as your pulse hiked, overstimulation from the glaring lights as you looked about. Too much to see. Bouncing on the soles of your tennis shoes, you want to take off and race about the aisles. Go to and fro to rifle through the organized racks of different clothes where signs hung overhead detailing each section.

“I need a new perfume.” Pakunoda dragged you from your trance as you stumbled for a second before grabbing her arm again to follow.

Feitan brought one of your perfumes with you when he took you. You’d had a few. Easily, you realized he took the one he preferred on you. And as it’s run out twice since, it was always replaced. Something new would be nice, the scent memories of your old fragrances try to crawl its way out. But it’s been too long you can’t remember.

Biggest problem- you don’t have money. Your stomach sinks.

Your mood doesn’t last long as you sniff the testers. It felt like hundreds of elegant and fun bottles were out on display. From jasmine to vanilla, to cardamom or amber, there were intoxicating, overly sweet scents, florals, and clean ones. It isn’t long before your sense of smell has gone null, everything smelling the same as you’ve appeared to go nose blind. Still doesn’t stop you from trying!

Not once, even when Pakunoda didn’t bother to keep you in her sights, did you think about escaping. Long gone were your thoughts from the apartment two weeks ago where you entertained it, feeling Feitan didn’t love you. You just kept on shuffling through displays and smelling.

When Pakunoda offers to buy you something, you’re insistent against it. Saying you’re glad to have had the chance to smell different perfumes, that now you have gift ideas to tell Feitan about. Which seems to please her.

“Hey Paku?”

“Yes?”

“If I could get Feitan something, do you think he’d like it? I’ve never gotten him anything before.”

She looks at you fondly, or with pity, you can’t tell nor care. “I’m not sure, he likes… tools… What do you have in mind?”

“Maybe make something.” Your brows furrow, “Something he can keep on himself? I won’t be able to pay you back, I think.”

“It’s fine, I’m sure he’d enjoy a gift. I think I know where we can go.”

A cute store filled with knick knacks and crafting supplies. You carefully look along charms, different strings, trying to remember- remember the bracelets, the keychains you made as a kid. There was a certain design your mother taught you, which caused you to make an incessant amount of (rather crude) things.

The little charms that catch your fancy are the ones shaped in letters. You dutifully select an ‘F’ and one for the first letter of your name. Success!

“Here, this material is resilient.” Pakunoda pointed to a display. A small pamphlet sat on a stand beside it, labeled as ‘manuals.’

You see the pamphlet lists and shows how to make different designs for what you wanted- from bracelets to necklaces, and to what you want- a keychain to hook the charms into and Feitan could clasp on anything. You imagine him keeping it on himself when he’s gone for work, sleeping with it and looking at it when he misses you, it makes you heat up. Flushed as Pakunoda watches you, surely thinking you were about to catch a flame from how red your cheeks went.

You pick three colors; black, white and then your favorite. It may not be cohesive but it represents your relationship you like to think.

Pakunoda tells you she’ll keep it on her until back at the base when Feitan is gone once more, then you can work on it. You realize what she’s implying as well. There was a high chance of Feitan showing up, or being furious upon return. No doubt would he go through any bags she had.

The two of you meet Phinks and his girlfriend at a small deli.

It was calm before the storm. Having a wide choice to eat, the autonomy to order for yourself had been overwhelming. But soon you sat outside with the three slowly eating, enjoying how the sun beat down, any signs of the dying winter currently gone. It isn’t busy out, less people on the streets so no one pays you any mind.

But one.

Phinks and Pakunoda tense. And it’s another few minutes before you feel it too.

As the sun sets and your food is finally finished, a shadowy figure approached with clenched fists and a severe face. Feitan’s cat-like, elegant eyes look crazed.

His hands are on you before you know what's happening. Your face tilted up, the only thing in your line of sight was his fuming face as he leaned down. Fingers squeeze your cheeks. You shudder, a chill down your spine from how flurried he is, unexpectant from him. You dare say he looks scared?

“I brought her with us.” Pakunoda said casually, clearly ignoring the short, fuming torturer. Phinks clamped a hand over his mouth to hide a smirk whilst his girlfriend cowered behind him.

“Never do that again.” He’s shoving his face into you as he speaks at the Spiders. He’s breathing you in, uncaring about watching eyes. Touching you like he thought you were gone, that he needs your presence to ground himself.

“Get a room.”

Feitan turned, shooting daggers at the two Troupe members. “Call me. She goes nowhere without me. Will break every finger if do this again.”

“Hm says you who take our rules seriously.” Phinks laughs, you aren’t sure which rules he means.

Fetain breathes hard, chest expanding only to fall quickly in vexation. Fingers trembling at his side as he stands in front of your chair. You can tell he’s doing his best to hold his anger in, his power in so as not to draw attention.

“Broken fingers heal.” He spat, cracking his own knuckles at the gruesome yet exciting idea.

“Thought I called you. Oops.”

“Not funny.”

Phinks shrugged, as he looped a protective arm around his girlfriend, “It kinda is. You wound up is always a good time.”

“We leaving.”

He doesn’t speak as he drags you down the street. You won’t even speak up to tell him his grasp on your wrist is too hard.

In the car he forces you to sit on his lap. Head nuzzling into your collarbone, inhaling your neck, like an impatient cat. His heart thumping. Everyone else ignores him in the car, but you’re flustered and dizzy. By the PDA and how it makes your insides boil, a haze like trance where all you want to do is touch along his muscles, feel him for yourself.

When Feitan had returned to the Base, upon a quick look around realizing you were gone? A frenzy overtook him.. Worst case scenarios hitting him like a head on collision. That you’re dead. That you’re running from him. Until Machi nonchalantly tells him where you’d gone, he was on the verge of a vicious breakdown as if consumed whole. It felt like a million little pins painfully pricked him over and over on his skin. An incessant prick, itching feeling that puts him into overdrive, into a heated spiral he can’t see straight in. The nerves and muscles beneath his pale skin tense, troublesome as they feel to be expanding, going to burst him open.

So upon seeing you in town, at the shop he knows Phinks takes his girl to- relief relaxes him. Barely. It doesn’t quench the fury or the desire to steal someone from the street to maim. What he also wanted to do was grab you, take you away from how close you sat beside Pakunoda. Even the thought of her touching you made him consider cutting her hands off, regardless of the trust and long history. And as he grabbed your face, feeling your cute plush cheeks he realized plenty of other people got to be graced with your presence and jealousy overflowed.

You look ethereal, it steals his breath away as your innocent wide eyes entrance him. Nervous flutters fill his gut. A feathery electric pulse goes through him, as if blessed by your attention, by your touch.

He still hates how you make him feel- like a lovesick fool. It was demeaning. General feelings aside from masochism and sadism evaded him, and for so long he did not believe himself capable. That suddenly his place as a torturer no longer mattered. He wasn’t that anymore. He was your kidnapper, the woman he loved who he followed then hid away for selfish reasons. He hates how his focus shifted from the Troupe to all you, hating how proud it made Chrollo.

This isn’t your fault, this outing, he thinks. But what rings in his mind is that he wants to punish you. To make you cry, bleed so he could soak it all in. Lick away your tears and suck along any wound that bled. You’d be so pliant and desperate for him, you wouldn’t want to leave his protection or sight for months. He regrets bringing you to the Base, but for the first time in over a year the thought of hurting you didn’t make him sick.

You’re stuck beneath Feitan’s body, him sprawled out on top of you as you lay on his bed. You can’t see his face but you wonder if he’s pouting, or if he’s angry and waiting to snap. You’re metaphorically walking on eggshells, not sure if you should be the one to speak first and apologize to lessen a punishment. The two of you have been confined to his room since returning, surely being gossiped about after the show Feitan put on in front of Pakunoda and Phinks.

After Feitan seemed content with the time he had alone in silence with you, listening to your hastened pulse that delighted him, he sat up. It’d been so tempting to bite into your tender flesh along your neck, to draw out your blood to make you cry.

Putting weight down on you, he stares, blank.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper.

Your words appear to affect him little, you can no longer deny the fear within. Having to guess what’s going on in his mind. Having to question each flinch or breath. If you were at the house you’d have mentally prepared yourself for the basement, for another knife to carve into your skin. You weren’t allowed outside without him, he made that clear, and you broke that. He must have been so scared! You’re riddled with guilt and you grasp him tighter because of it.

Feitan lets you suffer, he knows you inside-out, knows how you think and react. He’s almost smug as he feels you try to squeeze the life out of him as you murmur apologies. He understands nuances, it’s not all on you. You’re trained to listen, you’d trust another Spider as he once said you could. But he likes how you’re begging for forgiveness, that you feel terrible, that you assumed someone would inform him. It’s endearing until his gut begins to churn- as if reminding him not even an hour ago he’d wanted to punish you with a knife, or maybe his teeth. Once again he’s left feeling ill at the idea of hurting you. Much to his dismay.

He doesn’t want your blubbering to go on any longer, he wants to bask in your presence that’d been so rudely stolen from him.

Feitan’s lips crush against yours, a surprised squeak escaping before you kiss back.

You mold into his embrace as he braces himself above you better, enveloping you in his aura. Lips meshing turn to desperate pecks before he pulls away, eyes clouded.

“Not mad at you..” He grumbles, “Mad at them, should know better.”

They must have known how he’d react. You almost giggle at the thought of them plotting to see if Feitan would show emotions over you, of course you don’t giggle aloud. Feitan would probably pout some more (which was adorable but not what you currently needed).

What did you need?

After that shopping trip you don’t think you could go back to seclusion once more. At least you won’t go without an attempt at a fight. Everything feels different now, the tables have turned and you’ve been given a freedom you never dreamed of with Feitan. Only saw the remainder of your life play out at the house with him, and only him, and it felt like the air was closing in on you. Sucking the life from you.

For now, you think you still need reassurance. That he doesn’t hate you, or want to toss you aside. You can’t stop the dark thoughts of reality; that Feitan had a life, that there was more to him you’d probably never know.

“You’re scared.”

You shake your head as much as you're able as it lays flat on the pillow, upset at his words, “I- I don’t know. Lots of thoughts.”

“Tell.” He’s swift, how he can move your body to his liking, hiking your legs so that he’s positioned, kneeling between them, then wrapping them around his waist. Easily able to lean down, be in your face. Hands pressed so one sits on either side of your head. He could stay there all day, his strength past superhuman, easily understood by a simple glance at him unclothed. Which you wish he was. Wish to tug at his jacket and run your fingers down his chest.

“Can we go shopping? Just us?”

He visibly tenses, speechless for a second. He’s a thief, he does not need to shop and it was something he made fun of Phinks for doing with his girlfriend. Feitan still responds in a way to keep you happy, “Maybe.”

“I had fun.” You say slowly, trying to gauge. “Want to do it with you now. We could… go on a date.”

“Date?” He wants to make a face. Cliche rom-coms flash in his vision and it’s all he can think of, “Why?”

“Taking me on dates means… you care.”

“I care.” Proof? One, he stalked you for a year and realized he loved you, and killing you would kill him. Two, he kidnapped you to protect you. Three, he did his best to accustom you to the new environment, for you to finally know him, fall for him. Four, he’s now your boyfriend. It all worked out, “I don’t understand.”

You realize that street is a dead end with him, his mind doesn’t think like that. You don’t know what he would be- a sociopath? Psychopath? You barely know the differences yourself. But what you do know is, he likes pain and doesn’t understand social norms. Now understanding what Meteor City is…? How can anyone who grew up there?

You try again,

“We can hold hands and walk around, get ice cream, maybe go see a horror movie at the theater?”

He likes the last option, you can tell.

But he still says, “We can watch movies at home.”

“Have you been to a theater before?” He shakes his head for a ‘no,’ “They’re fun, with popcorn, slushies, it’s a totally different experience than watching at home.”

You push, hoping he sees the appeal. Praying he does because you’re drunk off the high from the outdoors amongst a city. Of different sights and smell, how it brought back so many memories you’d pushed down.

“What else on your mind?” Feitan switches the topic.

For a split second you forget your worries as you delve into your fantasy of going out with Feitan. So his question snaps you back. Too much had taken place today. You’re all over the map, “I also just… I need reassurance. I’m sorry today- I’m sorry.”

Feitan isn’t what you need when you cry. Doesn’t know how to hold you outside of wrenching you to him to where he cuts off circulation. He can’t whisper sweet nothings, they aren’t in his vocabulary.

You try to sit up, scooch backwards and he barely lets go, but just enough for you to unwrap your legs around his waist. He doesn’t move though, still kneeling on the bed.

“I love you.. I worry you don’t want me.” You begin to spill your heart out to him. Tripping over words, “I think about you with Isla. I think about you with other people while I’m at home waiting. I feel like I’m nothing!”

The room is silent, only the soft creak of the mattress as Feitan shifts. His face is unreadable as usual with nothing but a flash of annoyance, then back to blank.

“Why?”

“Huh?”

“Why feel that way?”

“I dunno, just do.” You clammer. “Can’t help my feelings.”

“We talked already. About all that.”

“I want to talk more.”

You can’t help it; the wavering in your voice. How you went quiet. Confidence would come in surges, like with the woman in the basement, then it would glide away almost as soon as it had come. There’s a fine line you walk. Subconsciously, unknowingly. He’s weak to you, to a point, you can exploit.

“Don’t want to.”

“Why not? What’s wrong with me? Do you want me to be sad?”

“Stop.” He grimaced.

“You’re so frustrating! I’m not a pet Fei, god I’m so so tired.” The outburst was unlike you, but gods knew how long it had been brewing. “You’re my boyfriend right? We have to talk things out for a relationship.”

A flash of red in his eyes, a quick twitch in his jaw. The wheels in his head turned grudgingly as a plan came into motion.

Feitan was moodier than he’d ever let on outside of his stoic, terrifying demeanor. Walls himself away from others, stowing his mind and words down under heavy lock and key. Could rescind and disappear with ease. And he knew how it impacted you, you hated when he flipped the switch going back to a stalker, a captor rather than your boyfriend.

“No, no Fei, no please.” Your eyes immediately water, chest heavy as you cry out for him. Twisting and skyrocketing with panic as you try to grab him, but he slips through your fingers with ease.

He lets you cry. Lets you scream for him until your voice goes hoarse, throat burning. Curled into a ball on the ground, shivering and babbling nonsense as you lull in and out of consciousness. And all the while Feitan stood outside the door listening, a rippling of joy and regret fighting in his chest.

His absence feels like you’re being ripped in two. Like a piece of you is missing. Ripped to shreds, left feeling aimless as you try to go on. The first few days were the worst, always were, you were like a ghost. Bloodshot eyes, puffy face from all the wallowing. And a mind that raced a hundred miles an hour.

You don’t know why he does this to you, which then affects him with his punitive actions. You’d rather he carve his name into you all over than this. The silence. The anger. The confusion. As if he mocks your pain! This wasn’t like after the first kiss when he ran out of fear, this was purposeful to hurt you, to drive you up a wall so he could laugh at you from the shadows.

You keep glancing at the clock on the nightstand, you’re uncomfortable, not able to relax even with blankets surrounding you. Or with your familiar plushies he’d packed back when you first had to come. The same page of your book has been flipped open for too long now, you feel terribly alone.

But you’re not alone, you haven’t been for more than a few minutes you’re sure. In the night you feel his gaze watch you from the dark corner of the room. Whenever you read, like now, he’s peering over your shoulder. Eating, you know he’s monitoring. Showering, he’s making sure you don’t slip. A silent killer, stalking his prey, is how it feels.

As if Feitan was a shadow himself. Moving quickly, with no sound or traces to show he was present. He was like a ghost. You only know he’s there because he wants you to know he still is, to keep you on edge. Or to keep you feeling secure. Without him, you’re naught.

“Fei.” You speak aloud, to the air.

From the corner of your eye there’s movement. But you still can’t see him.

“I’m not going to take my nap today, I think I’ll go see Paku or find something to eat.”

Maybe he really wasn’t there? Maybe he left when you’d called for him? No, he just wants you to think that, wants you to second guess your thoughts to stay pliant.

“Whatever.” You murmur, pushing yourself off the bed. You put on a pair of fuzzy socks to protect your feet from the cold floors of the Spider Base.

A flash.

Feitan blocks the door. The first you’ve been able to lay eyes on him in days, or was it a week… or two? Your heart skips a beat at the sight of him; until you see how tired he looked. Darker bags than usual under his pretty eyes. His pretty face looked hollower than usual.

“No. Two o’clock, go nap.”

“No thanks.”

Glowering he stepped forward, but you side stepped him. Only because he lets you. He’s curious as his chest aches, wondering why you weren’t throwing yourself at his feet, in his arms begging him to never leave you again. The sudden alterations in your normal behavior based on how well he has moulded you, has allowed you the wide berth. All because he’s curious.

The blood coursing through your veins feels heavy, thick, like it moves in slow motion through you. Tension building. You might burst as it takes all your will not to hug him until he pats your head and mocks your tears.

An intrusive idea invades your mind and you decide you’ll act on it. Not one of those passing thoughts that comes and goes. That you feel shame for feeling- like back when you could drive a car, how you’d wonder what it would be like to drive into oncoming traffic. No, not like that. This one you’ll act on.

He lets you move around, somewhat sporadically trying to decide, trying to think it through anymore but rationalizing after days of radio silence has you reeling. You shuffle through your things, find what you need then tug on a sweatshirt and heavier sweats over your sleep shorts. The colors don’t match. A dim blue with baby pink. Then slippers that won’t do much good, but they’re the quickest to get on.

With the anger surging through you, you leave the room in a huff. Certainty like never before to do something Feitan won’t like. Leave!

No one’s in the halls of the Base. No one’s in the grand main room, with its large wood table, and bookshelves lining the walls. A staircase that leads up to what you know as the primary exit.

Feitan follows as you stomp your way up. Like a child going against parent wishes, threatening to run away. An obvious lie, but one they entertain anyways. Fake sense of autonomy and all.

But he’s laughing at how you struggle.

“Funny girl.”

You struggle with it, eventually pushing the minimal body weight, strength you have left into it and up. The door creaks open and you breathe hard as you yank it open. Cold air hits you like a wall. You don’t know this, but you only open it because he allows you to, using miniscule amounts of his nen for it to open.

You walk for longer than he expected you to. Never looking back. Marching with your head straight forward, a determined look on your face. Feitan thinks you look adorable like this, angry and trying to prove a point. Trying to put your own form of punishment on him.

“How much longer? For this act.”

Fists clench, “I’m leaving.”

Sure, he chuckles to himself. This was more entertaining than anything that’s happened in a while.

“Where you going?” He asks in a teasing tone, knowing very well you don’t have a clue where you are.

“Don’t know, I’ll figure it out.”

“You’re heading deeper into woods. Going south, need to go north a few hours for town.”

Stopping in your tracks you whirl around. You glare at him with all you have. With all the frustrations you’ve pent up. How your heart hammers in your chest. How a feathery tinge of jolting pain tickles your chest. Taunting you.

South is opposite of north, so you walk past him heading back the direction you came. Ignoring his amused looks. And ignoring the urges you have for him.

You’re cold. Fingers red regardless of having them shoved in the front of the hoodie, But your feet, you can barely feel them. Letting your high of defiance still drive you, not wanting to give in and let him debase you for your outburst.

Eventually he’s had enough, your charade- it’s time for it to end. You had your fun, he wants his.

“Fei!” You screech as he grabs your arm, tugging you back.

In one go he hoists you up, bridal style, but you kick your feet in contempt trying to squirm free. Struggle and huffing, but it’s no use. His grip is iron clad as he walks along the forest path. He let you go for thirty minutes north, past the base, far enough for you to suffer but not have permanent damage in any way. Eventually you go lax, bask in him holding you, resting your head into the crook of his neck as he walks. The forest goes by much faster. It’s silent, eerie, but the scent of pine, grass and cinnamon swirl about the breeze as you inspect the foliage and trees, watch the sky and its moving clouds above.

Whatever you hoped to achieve is lost, but Feitan is holding you so it’s a win in his books. He’s ached to touch you for so long from the shadows, it was his own form of torture while he tortured you.

“I love you.” You sigh, exhausted. Not having your daily nap finally taking its toll, you’ve hit a wall, body shutting down.

“I love you too.” He says immediately, robotically, as if he’d been waiting to scream it at you. To tell you he loves you so much (in his own way not the way you love him) that’s why he does these things. He doesn’t know how to act, how to be a good boyfriend. He needs to leave at times so as to not hurt you. That’s how much he loves you, that he knows to back off, to push his urges down. And why he knows to use the words ‘I love you’ when they mean practically nothing to him, but everything to you.

You smile, nuzzle against him. When he says it, it feels like you’re flying. Those words can be lost on him at times, you worry. Heavy. Love for him isn’t the same for you.

“You- hurt me, ignoring me, I miss you, miss seeing you. Feels like I should die. Be easier for you if I did. Why haven’t you killed me yet?” With drooping eyelids the horizon goes dark. They won’t open anymore, but you’re conscious lulling in and out of it.

“No, not easier.” His grip tightened. He was scowling, not that you could see it.

“I want to die.”

Evening comes quick, the days yet to get longer with how long the sun is out. The air grows colder. The wind picks up. Tall pine trees sway as one big group, an intricate dance of a coming storm as winter nears its end. Deep gray clouds fatten with water, freezing as it began to fall, a fresh coat of snow painting the ground.

Feitan wrapped you up in a heavy quilt when he arrived back to his room in the Base, watching how your shivers went null and you snuggled deeper into the bed’s warmth.

Any humor in the situation had been sucked out of him by your words. His fingers twitch just thinking about it. If a late winter storm wasn’t picking up outside he’d prowl for a victim in the nearest town. Tie them down, rip the fingernails off one by one, snap the fragile finger bones at the knuckles. He’d let their blood run free onto the cement ground, but not enough that they’d die quickly. It’d be slow. Strenuous for them but he’d grin in delight with eyes bright as day as he listens to their screams.

You want to die.

Did you mean it?

His muscles twitch.

He strides over to you, sitting on the edge of the bed. His pale fingers languidly draw along the blanket to you, drawing circles and toying with fabrics. Fabrics from the blankets to your clothes; clothes he wants off you.

His lips graze your neck, tongue swiping out to taste the sweat on your skin, to lap up your taste and inhale your scent. Divine. You make a noise, stir as his teeth sink into you, breaking the skin with faint blood trickling down, but you don’t wake.

Hips grind against the mattress to quell himself, he strips off your tops, the layers that you foolishly thought would shield you from the cold. He palms one of your breasts as he indulges in the other. Suckling on your nipple as his tongue draws circles along the areola. Lewd noises begin to fill the air, Feitan not caring for his volume, for the saliva that pooled and dripped, or for how his hands wandered. You’re naked, pliant, easy to move how he wanted.

‘F E I T A N’ the crudely carved letters of his name made his heart race deliciously as he stared at them. Always the best part of undressing you. Fueled his possessive tendencies and his tongue focuses on it. Tracing each letter systematically. Sending chills down his spine and eyes fluttering into the back of his head, he swears from that alone he could find release.

Legs wide, your exposed cunt all for his taking and he’s entranced. Licking and nibbling along your thighs, breathing heavy as he’s using so much force to keep himself from diving right in. He stalls though, seeing a dull red more pinkish colored discharge along your folds. His heightened abilities allowed him to sense the metallicness to it, to practically smell and taste your menstrual blood.

He checked your underwear quickly, ecstatic realizing your period came a day early (he tracks it). Still light, but there’d be four to five days max of time he’d get with your bloody, sensitive pussy. Feitan grins. This explains your outbursts, the moodiness.

All of a sudden, Feitan decides you don’t need to be punished in a proper way (ignoring you or torturing you), he always gets your body to himself the whole time you’re bleeding. Overstimulating you, constantly delving into your core as he could live there between your thighs feasting on your bleeding cunt. Your head will be empty by the end, it may not be a ‘punishment’ but it’s his favorite time of the month, so he’s giddy inside. The glee drove his anger and doubt to the back, he can take his frustrations out on you in the coming days!

Because in a way, he knew you dreaded your period as much as it twisted you with a sick excitement for what was to come. For days your mind would be wiped, your body wouldn’t be your own as you bordered the edge of a dangerous subspace at Feitan’s mercy.

Feitan’s eyes rolled back into his head as his tongue licked along your entrance, practically rolling into the back of his head at the taste of your blood. His cock hard and pulsing to the point it brought him more pain than pleasure. So he dove in as all restraint was lost, as he went wild on your cunt. Sucking delving into your folds, his tongue and lips suctioned to you uncaring for the noises that filled the room. Your cute jerks, cute moans, how your pussy clenched desperately at him as your head lolled to the side, but you did not wake.

So accepting of his touch, even in sleep, subconsciously you wanted him. You knew it was him, wanted to take everything he would give you. Do to you.

How long had passed with him between your legs? Feasting on you until he got his fill, the permanence of your taste in his mouth, the slick from your unconscious orgasms everywhere. Pink discharge seeped into the sheets, metallic tang on his tongue, blood dribbling from your slit– it was all perfect. Butterflies swarmed his stomach, his chest, his extremities as he felt aflame. Filled with delight, a sick delight, as he discarded his clothes. Impatient, he needed to be inside you.

Feitan let out an honest to god cry as your swollen cunt sucked him in, your walls squeezing around his cock like a vice. Whimpers continued to fall from his lips as he moved, the sensation overwhelmingly pleasurable as it took over his senses. Numbing and tingling along his spine, his nerves, and his head making him see white. Lightheaded and feeling the coils tighten in his gut, his thrusts turned erratic. Bed creaking, the headboard clacking against the wall.

You didn’t know the time when your eyes finally fluttered open. You’d been having such a delightful dream, one that had you feeling pleasure in your core, an orgasm on the horizon before you were suddenly ripped from the dreamscape… And you quickly realized why, as the pleasure built and built, finally spilling over you as your eyes flutter in the back of your head. Having been in a daze at first, you now feel every thrust, hear every grunt. It’s overwhelming as your voice escapes you, hazy moans and whimpers as your hands languidly push against him.

It was too much; too much as you trembled and begged for him to stop, that it was too much and he grins evilly as he continues his onslaught. Your punishment for the antics he let you run amuck with, because he loved it when you disobeyed because he got to have his way.

“Pl..Please..” Fat tears run down your face, they soak the sheets below you. You could barely see straight, painful pleasure like a never ending wave crashing unto you, drowning you.

His sudden grip on your jaw is frightening. It’s hard and his nails just prick the skin. Then his mouth is on your neck, sucking and nibbling, until his teeth sink in. White pain flashes and your voice cracks, eyes roll back into your head. Because with Feitan, your mind, your body, had to learn to mix pain with pleasure. To mesh your signals to the point you couldn’t tell the difference between him carving his name into you or making you come. So you don’t know what your ramblings are, you don’t know if you're begging him for more or to stop.

You could barely walk straight for days after Feitan was finally done with you. Poor brain buzzing, a pile of mush as you absentmindedly spent your time like a lost puppy. This always seemed to happen after an extensively long sex based punishment; a blank look in your gaze with slow blinks as you struggled to comprehend things or do things for yourself. You never got to see the smug look on Feitan’s cat-like features as he doted on you like you were a good pet.

During that time whilst you were hardly conscious, something must have happened.

Because once more you find yourself up and taken, like a doll to be carried to and fro. You wanted to stay at the base, but everyone was scattering for something and Feitan was not going to let you be on your own somewhere that wasn’t the house he’d kept you for so long. There’s plenty of questions on the tip of your tongue. Slowly you’ve been able to recount the event that uprooted you to the spider’s base, your parents on TV that somehow your mind had shoved aside. So you’re more confused on why leaving the base was happening now.

Staring out the window of the car, you wished Feitan was beside you. But you knew how intently he trusted Chrollo, Phinks, and Paku, so you were comfortable enough and whether they talked little due to your presence, you didn’t mind. In a way it was enough to watch the passing scenery, your world had been shrunk down so much that this was a prize in itself; to watch the same type of trees and fields whir by. He hadn’t been thrilled to be parted from you, even if he did his best to hide it, you saw the anxiety in the tiny ways it manifested on him.

The sun was high in the sky as Phinks drove the car down a gravel road that looked as if it would lead to nowhere. An expanse of thick trees loomed. Darkness spread around the car.

A whimper of excitement left your lips as you saw a tiny town of scattered wooden buildings. There’s a stunning littering of flowers, of pruned shrubs, and already you’re raring to see it all. Feitan would never let you, you think, so you’re already steeling yourself to ask one of the Troupe members.

“Come, dear.” Chrollo helps you from the car, gentle as if you’d snap beneath his touch. If you’d been the person you were at the beginning of captivity with Feitan you would have seen the condescending nature of it, his tone mirroring that one would use with a child.

“Chrollo, can I go look at those flowers?”

He peered in the direction of the garden you pointed at. A faint smile pierced his lips as he nodded, amused by your jittery form that could hardly contain its elation. “We’ll be inside that building.”

But you’re barely listening or caring as you immediately skip over. You ambled about the well pruned bushes of azaleas, rows of color coordinated flowers that might have been the prettiest things you’d laid eyes. There were no thoughts of running away even as eyes weren’t laser focused on you, though you know Feitan wouldn’t like the lack of monitoring. Oh well!

You don’t pay much attention to the passing time, there wasn’t a way for you to know for certain anyways, just that the sun seemed lower in the sky. Contentment reverberated through you as you laid upon the plush grass, watching the clouds move above you, flowers swaying just in the peripheries of your vision. A tiny smile etched onto your face, this was lovely, this was peaceful, and you don’t want to leave. Don’t want one of the Spiders coming to rip you from this facade you built up so easily surrounded by beauty untainted by Feitan, by death, by reality.

Footsteps sound near. It makes your pulse spike, you shoot to sit up. Expecting to see a Troupe member, you didn’t care if your hair was a bird's nest from the wind or strewn with grass. But your whole body seems to freeze at the unfamiliar person approaching.

“Hello.. Miss?”

“What?” You blink, unable to comprehend.

He stops a few paces away. “The garden’s pretty, no?”

“Oh yeah, it is.”

When was the last time you’d talked to someone who wasn’t Feitan or the Troupe, or their partners, (or Isla)? It’s paralyzing. It’s confusing. For a second you forget to breathe. This is wrong. You’re scared, vulnerable, and desperate for Feitan.

Your gaze flits to the building where Chrollo and the others went into. Expecting to see one bolt out to save you from this strange man. A second passes, then another, and nothing. You push yourself up, legs wobbling as you fold your arms over yourself like they were a shield.

“Are you Y/N?” He asks, low, like you're a frightened animal.

Nodding, you take a step away.

His words fall on deaf ears. Something about ‘Hunters’, ‘saving you’, ‘that you must be scared’, ‘that you’re safe with him.’ But you certainly don’t feel safe as he reaches out to grab you. His touch makes your gut coil, bile lurching into your throat.

Ripping your arm from the grasp, you stumble.

“Don’t you want to be away from him? To be saved…”

Saved?

“Your parents miss you.”

You step closer. Flashes of memories surface to the forefront. Starting with seeing them on the TV, for the first time in years. Then of your school graduations, of birthdays, dinners, and one of your favorite trips to the beach. Tears well in your eyes as chills race down your spine.

But then your stomach plummets. A bubbling of wrongness, a coiling inside of you that has you stopping, doubting. You’re snapping back into the person you’d become, a shell of the girl you were before Feitan. The obedient girl who’d never want to disobey Feitan. Who knew what would happen if you did. Panic flares. Thoughts of being taken away from him has your lips trembling, hands shaking; you don’t know how to exist without him. To truly make decisions for yourself had been stripped away so long ago and now you’re frozen.

“I’m okay… Tell them I’m happy.”

The man looks at you with surprise. Pity. But he continued in a gentle tone. “It’s okay. Let’s go.”

His hand suddenly on your back feels like it’s burning a hole through your clothes and down to the skin. Your legs feel like lead as he guides you. Further and further. Bile rises to your throat, you think you might be sick.

Oh how you would have once wanted this, you’d dreamed of it for months you spent locked away in the attic. Of someone coming and saving you, whisking you back to your life. But now it’s the opposite of what you want; you don’t want to leave Feitan. It lodges your heart in your throat and you unconsciously find yourself planting your heels into the ground.

“Y/N?” The Hunter stared at you.

“I…” Your voice is stuck. You start to backtrack. Like a deer caught in headlights.

You can’t be away from Feitan. You can’t be ripped away from him, can’t fathom not having his touches and smirks. You need his directives, his rewards, and punishments to guide you. Without him you have no purpose and that is glaringly apparent now as the world seems to crush inwards on you. A weight on your shoulders.

“Can’t go with you.” You whispered.

“Please… It’ll be hard at first, recovery, but with your parents over time it’ll get better. You were kidnapped, you have Stockholm syndrome, that’s why your feelings for him feel so real.”

And that made sense. You could mull over his words, you knew what stockholm syndrome was but it never crossed your mind that’s what this was. Phantom pains from the carving of his name on your body ignites in flames, a pain that has you whimpering, falling to the ground. Tears slip out as your head profusely shakes, hands bared on the ground as you dry heave, terror spurting out of your chest.

“No!” The word spills past your lips with a shriek.

The Hunter’s eyes widen in fear, he gazes around with fear and starts to step away. He had told you to be quiet, to listen, and you were doing the opposite. Attention would certainly be upon you now. The air whipped around the two of you like it howled, screeched imitating how you felt on the inside. Blood racing to your head, hot and nauseating as claws seemed to sink into your depths, fluttering, breathy pains simmer along your nape to the top of your skull. Lighthead, swaying, you’re back into the clutches of something dark, hungry for blood– for you.

The thought of having to live without Feitan consumes you next. The thought of this man or anyone with him hurting Feitan sends ripples of an emotion you can’t quite place through you. Because shouldn’t you be worried about yourself? Shouldn’t you be jumping at this opportunity?

Instead you’re backing away. Heart rammed in your throat. Ready to bolt. And you do try, but before you get a few feet there are arms wrapping around your waist.

The Hunter is now carrying you, has you flung over his shoulder as you writhe. Tears are falling as he takes you away from the garden and into the woods. Pathetic as you hit his back over and over, legs flailing as he keeps telling you to ‘quiet.’

“Stop moving, I’m trying to help you.”

That only makes you squirm more. Violently at that. And then you’re tumbling down as he loses balance.

The air is knocked from your lungs as you hit the hard ground with an umph, leaving you gasping and in pain.

He’s trying to grab at you again. “Look I get-”

Mid sentence, he’s stopping, eyes widened in panic as he looks down. Blood trickles from the corner of his mouth as he looks at you with a plea, something sharp sticks out from his chest. A scream is just on your tongue, but you’re wheezing and just as surprised.

He falls to his knees, pale as he gurgles one last time, life draining from his eyes. Dead. Blood soaks the ground and you can’t bring yourself to turn away.

And standing over him is Feitan.

Crazed hatred glimmers in his dark eyes. A sickening look on his face as he glares at the dead Hunter like he’s garbage, a nuisance. Then Feitan’s looking at you and it’s a strange mixture of smugness and desperation.

His hands are on you so quick, flattening you straight to his chest. You can feel the erraticness of his heart beat as he grips you tight like you’ll disappear.

“Fei!” You cry out, head nuzzling into him as his scent, presence washes over you. The familiarity, the comfort, the safety lulls you to feel okay again. That you hadn’t realized just you scared you’d been from the stranger now that you’re crashing downwards from an adrenaline fueled high that had your eyes feeling heavy.

“Safe now.”

“Wh-Who was that? What’s going on?”

Feitan lifts and carries you in his arms. “Thought were leading them out, that they’d follow me knowing you be with me… but ploy. One guessed you weren’t, I immediately came.”

You nod against the crook of his neck, clinging to him as he’s your lifeline.

“Not happy others weren’t watching you.”

“I tried to get away…”

“I know. So good.” A kiss against your temple has you shuddering in delight.

Oh Feitan is angry. Angry. Furious. Murderous. But he’s secretly thrilled. Thrilled that you fought against the man (even if… it was a rather pathetic attempt but he can’t blame you for being so weak), that you chose him over the possibility of seeing your family again (which might just be what spares them from death). This makes him absolutely elated even through the raging aura he’d felt dripping from him. Cements any other doubts he could have had of your feelings!

He can’t stop the way he looks at you with odd endearment as you fall asleep in his arms, fingers twisting into his cloak as to keep him close. You look adorable sleeping, lips slightly open as light sighs exhale. He feels his chest twisting. Stomach flipping. It’s an all too familiar sensation you’ve brought him for years now, one he hates because it’s proof of weakness, but it’s far too late to do anything about it now.

But that ‘good’ mood of his doesn’t last very long upon seeing other members of the Troupe. Phinks looked guilty. Pakunoda wouldn’t meet his eyes. And Chrollo had a soft smile that showed he knew what would happen. Feitan’s features turn to one of nonchalant frustration; his words are sharp at the three, angry he hadn’t been informed, didn’t like you being used.

Chrollo makes it clear that you would have been safe and Feitan, of course, believes him. But it doesn’t wipe the frown from his lips. Or how his fingers flex around your limp body giving away the fact he wants to snap someone’s neck to get out the murderous feeling beginning to build.

“We were hoping to take one alive…” Chrollo sighs, pinching his brow as he realizes his mistake in keeping Feitan blind.

“Oh well.” Was Feitan’s only response. Was he supposed to exercise care for once towards someone who’d laid hands on you? Impossible.

Inside the building that had been beside the garden you’d spent your time, Feitan moved to a side room so he could lay you down. Signs of waking up as movement began under your eyelids, lashes fluttering as your limbs trembled as you stretched them out. The heat from outside and the added stress must have been too much, Feitan decides, he’s sitting perched beside you playing with stray locks of your hair. His territorial-ness is beginning to rise to the surface more and more, its simmering as if a burner had been turned on and slowly he was reaching boiling point.

The idea of scrubbing you raw so that the male’s touch is gone, is at the forefront. You won’t like it but it’s necessary, he’ll reward you for being so devout and so perfect though, he thinks the last few days without fucking you have been too long. Needs to paint your insides with him. Mark you again and again.

He pulls up the loose fabric of your top, enough to see the fabric of your bra and the etching of his name on your skin. It makes him go wild. It's fuel to the fire. He truly is boiling now, his body moving over you, tongue against the scar of the six letters that made up his name. The wet tip of his longue traces along it uncaring the saliva he left behind, messy and soon his teeth are dragging along your ribcage.

“Fei?” You gasp out, confusion as you lift your head to see what’s pressed against you. And then you feel an assault of butterflies in your stomach and pleasure covering your skin as you feel his lips and teeth. Nowhere seemed to be safe, even your ribcage as dark hickies blossomed along it. You were like his own canvas to paint.

“Shh.” He hisses, wanting you pliant as you jerk around.

Working his way down your legs spread, long skirt hiked, he bites hard at your supple inner thighs leaving a trail of teeth marks all red with some breaking skin. You cry as he bites once more, sucking over the tender spot making sure to graze teeth where it would hurt most. He laps at the trail of blood beginning to trickle, the wetness of his tongue causes your core to coil and warmth to spread. The pain as he leaves bruises from his fingers digging in, nails going to points from his nen to leave knicks, the way his face is buried into the fat of your thigh– it’s heavenly. You’re in tears and about to be brought to finish as this beautiful build up overwhelms your senses as you whimper and– and then nothing. Feitan is grinning deviously, traces of your blood smeared on his face. You don’t need to look to know you’re a mess, that there’ll be permanent marks and bruises for days that’ll make it hard to walk.

Your bottom lip wobbles as intrusive thoughts plague you, you’re trembling from the high he ripped from you. Desperate for him, hands outwards, fingers reaching for him. Feitan lets you grab at him, relishes in your glassy eyes as he peers over the damage marring your skin he worked oh so hard on.

“You won’t let anyone take me from you, right?” It’s a whine, barely a whisper, but it's pathetic and quiet, slurring, but it's so goddamns cute to Feitan whose chest expands upon hearing you.

“Never.”

A blush rises along your neck and sprawls across your cheeks. You nuzzle into him to hide your face, your embarrassment.

“Ah good, because I have a gift for you back at the Base.” Surprised with yourself for forgetting, so much had happened, you’re smiling bright, dizzied.

“Gift?” Feitan quirks a brow up as a finger juts out to trace the sensitive skin of your thighs.

“Yes. I’ve never given you anything.”

That doesn’t make sense, at least not to him, as you looking at him like he was your world was giving him something. You watched his work from time to time, for goodness sakes. You could have fought him more, could have tried escaping, could have not chosen him when faced with a chance to leave. Now he knows breaking you plays a major role in your love for him, but to Feitan it’s enough. He has you. You want him to touch you, to talk to you, to be his main focus. And that is more than he deserved or could ask for and it was endearing that you thought you gave him nothing. An innocence, stupidity really, because you think you need to give gifts to the man who kidnapped you! But either way excitement flutters in his chest as he wonders what you possibly could have come up with to gift him.

You look like you might go unconscious again, surely the adrenaline from someone trying to rip you from him must not be entirely gone. And then what he’d just done to you– had you flush, vibrating, oh so warm and with tears dripping from the corners of your eyes. Soon lax on the bed as he watches you like you’re prey.

Feitan doesn’t know if anymore Hunters will come out of the woodworks like pesky ants, a nuisance and definitely no longer a coincidence now that you’re the third partner of a Troupe member to be targeted. As you lull into sleep, he vows to himself that he’ll kill anyone or anything that threatens his relationship with you, or even tries to touch a hair on your head. Nothing will pry you from his clutches, not while he’s alive at least.

He lets his slacks drop, robe stripped off and tossed to the side. You’re so tight as he slots himself inside your cunt, his fingers grip your bruised and bloodied thighs, the sight of his teeth marks send shivers down his spine. Fucking you at a cruel pace he’s already close and filling you with his seed, gritting his teeth as his eyes flutter to the back of his head as insurmountable fervor washes over him. His his his his his his his. God he hopes you never wake up one day, wishing for freedom from him, remembering your life before. It’s the only fear that plagues him, that keeps him up at night. So he knows he simply needs to break you down more, make you more reliant, and pray you forget all about your parents on the TV pleading for you back. His.

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