Villainous Oneshots

You're Invited | Black Hat x Reader

Black Hat sat broodily in his armchair, finger pads pressed together, hands steepled. His office was quiet, save for the subtle, creaky whine emitting from his chair as he bobbed his leg up and down impatiently, not quite sure what he was impatient for. He was in another one of his restless fits that he had begun to become accustomed to once he had started retirement. He couldn't just sit here and continue filing documents and taking calls. It was all too slow-paced, all too mundane. He needed to rile up the ancient, poisonous blood coursing through his body. He pondered over what could help resolve his rather irritating predicament. A walk around the manor wouldn't hurt, or perhaps, he would play his organ for an hour or two. Starting wildfires always seemed to shake him out of his stupors as well, though, he mused.

Much to his annoyance, he heard a knock at the door right when he was in the middle of deciding over either strolling through town and dumping tacks on the roads or committing high-level arson.

"Enter," he barked gruffly, in no mood to entertain any company besides his own sinister thoughts.

You entered cautiously into the office, clutching a parcel of papers tight to your chest. You could tell with one glance that he was in a sour mood, but then again, there was seldom a time that he actually wasn't. You walked briskly, mechanically towards his desk, bowing low before meeting his eyes. During your time in his organization, you soon came to learn that he was a creature that demanded a certain standard of courtesy and punctuality from his employees. So, naturally, you resolved to perfect your skills in both efficiency and being a total suck-up. Was it your proudest mannerism to admit? No, but you concluded that that was fine because you could still proudly say that you had all of your limbs intact. The last sorry soul who disrespected Black Hat couldn't really say the same.

"Good morning, Mr. Black Hat, sir," you told him happily, trying to shake off the nerves that constantly pestered you when you spoke to him, raising one hand to your forehead in a salute. When he just stared at you blankly, expectantly, you decide to roll with the punches and simply continue.

"I, ah, brought you your mail, sir," you stated a bit more lightly, flinching when he made a sudden gesture with his hand, motioning to place it on his desk.

"Give it here," he replied, looking extremely bored, resting his chin on his palm.

You did as you were told, hoping that he wouldn't notice the slight tremble in your hand before placing them down. You weren't usually this nervous around him. You thought yourself a bit braver than that. He wasn't even angry or screaming or contorting his body into horrifying displays of inhuman terror or anything! If you were completely honest with yourself, you knew full-well what you were so anxious over, but you concluded that it would be much more to your benefit if you acted like nothing was out of the ordinary at all. Yes, you'd just have a brief talk once he saw it, and then you'd be on your merry way. A part of you knew that you were being ridiculous, but you decided to push that part out of your thoughts.

Oh, he was staring at you right now as you fidgeted and awkwardly stood in front of him, a hint of annoyance evident in his menacing eyes.

"You may leave, now," he addressed you in a dismissive tone, waving his hand like he was shooing off a measly fly.

"Of- of course sir, but uh, shouldn't you maybe look at your mail real quick? There might be something... unusual about it. I mean, have you seen the postman who delivers to us? I don't trust him; he's a shady guy all right. A few days ago I saw him, and he was wearing sandals... with socks. Honestly, and society calls us the villains when there are people like George the Mailman walking about and making a disgrace of themselves!" you exclaimed with a huff, raising your arms in aggravation.