Feitan Portor x Fem Reader x Chrollo Lucifer: Shadows in the Rain #1
{ This scenario was requested }
Summary / Info A encounter between Feitan and a calm, highly intelligent fem reader with an Itachi Uchiha-like personality. While on separate missions in Yorknew City, their paths cross at a warehouse.
NOTE: THIS IS PART 1 ! Chrollo is present in Part 2 found HERE !
Warnings: Canon-typical violence, Mild blood / injury mentions, Tense/ambiguous relationship dynamics, Light teasing with rude language.
The rain fell in steady sheets over the derelict industrial district on the outskirts of Yorknew City. Shadows stretched long under flickering streetlights as Feitan Portor moved like a ghost through the alleys. His mission for the Troupe was straightforward: retrieve a rare artifact from a private collector’s vault, one that supposedly held encrypted data on high-profile auction targets. Simple. Bloody. Efficient.
He didn’t expect company.
You emerged from the opposite side of the warehouse at the exact moment he slipped through a broken window. Both of you froze for a fraction of a second. Your posture was perfectly composed, back straight, movements deliberate and economical the mark of someone who had spent years honing their mind and body into weapons. You wore dark, practical clothing that blended into the night, and your sharp, observant eyes assessed him instantly.
Feitan’s grip tightened on his umbrella-turned-weapon. “Wrong night for a walk,” he hissed, voice low and dangerous.
You regarded him calmly, rain dripping from your hair. “I could say the same.” Your voice was quiet, smooth, and carried the weight of someone who rarely wasted words. You were here for your own reasons; a personal objective involving the same collector. He held information that could expose a corruption ring tied to your past, something you intended to handle alone and cleanly.
Neither of you moved to attack immediately. The tension crackled between you like static before a storm. Feitan tilted his head, studying you with those sharp, sadistic eyes. You didn’t flinch. Most people did. Instead, you simply analyzed him right back calculating his speed, his likely Nen type, the reach of his weapon. It was the same analytical gaze Feitan himself used on prey.
“You’re not Troupe,” he stated flatly. “But you’re not civilian either. Who the hell are you?” You offered with no name. “Someone with business here. The same as you, it seems.” A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched your lips not mocking, but acknowledging the unfortunate coincidence. “We could fight but it would be loud and unnecessary.”
Feitan clicked his tongue in irritation. He hated when people talked like they were above the violence. Yet something about your calm demeanor, the way your intelligence practically radiated off you, made him pause. You were strong. Not in brute force perhaps, but in presence. “Fine,” he muttered. “Stay out of my way or I cut you.”
You nodded once, accepting the terms without argument. The two of you moved through the warehouse like shadows dancing around each other never fully trusting, yet never fully opposing. You disabled security systems with precise, elegant Nen threads that wrapped around wires and sensors like invisible spider silk, shutting them down silently. Your Nen ability, “Veil of Insight”, allowed you to extend thin strands of aura that could analyze and manipulate simple systems or create localized zones of heightened perception, letting you predict movements and spot weaknesses with terrifying accuracy. It wasn’t flashy, but it was ruthlessly efficient; perfectly suited to your strategic mind.
Feitan noticed. Of course he did. As you both reached the inner vault, he moved first a blur of speed as he dismantled the guards with brutal efficiency. You followed, taking down the last two with calculated strikes that targeted pressure points and joints, dropping them without unnecessary bloodshed.
When the artifact was secured in Feitan’s hands, he turned to you. His clothes were splattered with blood, a wild grin on his face. “You fight clean. Too clean.” He stepped closer, voice dropping into that cruel, teasing tone he loved. “What, too much of a princess to get your hands properly dirty?”
A faint blush dusted your cheeks barely noticeable in the dim lighting, gone almost as quickly as it appeared. You looked away for half a second, composing yourself with that same serene mask. The rude remark had struck something private, but you gave no other sign. Feitan noticed the blush. His grin widened, sharp and predatory. You met his gaze again, calm as ever. “Efficiency matters more than spectacle. Your methods are effective but to loud and messy.” There was no judgment in your tone just quiet observation. He laughed lowly, a sound like scraping metal. “Boss would like you. Smart mouth. Smart head. Too bad you’re not joining.” You shook your head. “I have my own path.”
For a moment, the rain outside seemed louder. Feitan stared at you, something darker and more interested flickering behind his eyes. He knew you were dangerous not because you could overpower him physically (though you might in a prolonged fight), but because your mind worked on a level that even he found intriguing.
“Next time I see you on a job,” he said, stepping past you toward the exit, “I might not be so nice.”
You watched him go, the blush long faded, your expression once again unreadable. “I’ll keep that in mind.” But as the rain swallowed his figure, you allowed yourself the smallest, private thought: He was more interesting than expected.
Here's the second one you requested @purplestrawberrycycle ! I hope you like it.
Please see the pinned post to check request status HERE