#itachi like reader

[mintedmoments]

Feitan Portor x Fem Reader x Chrollo Lucifer: Shadows in the Rain #2

{ This scenario was requested }

NOTE: This is Part 2! You can read Part 1 HERE.

Info / Summary: After Feitan mentions a mysterious woman from his mission, Chrollo becomes intrigued and seeks her out.

Warnings: Mild tension, power dynamics, canon-typical violence mentions (background).

A few days after the warehouse job, the Phantom Troupe was gathered in their temporary hideout. Someone casually asked Feitan, “Any complications on that artifact retrieval?” Feitan clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Some woman showed up. Handled her own business. Fought clean. Didn’t get in my way too much.”

The room went quiet for a beat. Then a few members raised eyebrows “Wait… you didn’t kill her?” Phinks asked, confused. Feitan shrugged, looking irritated. “She wasn’t worth the effort. Too much noise if I did. And her stupid threads messed with the security before I could. Saved me time. Whatever.”

It was a lame excuse, and everyone knew it. Feitan rarely left witnesses. But he refused to elaborate further. Chrollo, who had been quietly listening, leaned forward with growing interest. “Describe her,” he said calmly. Feitan gave a brief, grumpy rundown calm demeanor, sharp mind, efficient fighting style, strange Nen threads that analyzed and disabled systems. The more he spoke, the more curious Chrollo became. A woman who could stand her ground with Feitan and walk away alive? That was rare.

“Find her,” Chrollo ordered softly. “I want to meet her myself.” It didn’t take the Troupe long to locate you.

You were deep in an old abandoned research facility on the edge of the city, on a personal solo mission. You needed classified documents on a past incident that had haunted you. Information the collector from the previous job had indirectly pointed toward. Your movements were silent and precise. Your Nen ability, Veil of Insight, let thin aura threads spread through the corridors, mapping security systems, predicting patrol routes, and highlighting the safest path forward.

Chrollo watched from the shadows for nearly twenty minutes. He was impressed. Your intelligence was evident in every calculated step. The way you avoided unnecessary fights, disabled traps with minimal effort, and adapted instantly when a guard changed their route. You moved like someone who had already foreseen most outcomes.

You suddenly paused in a dimly lit hallway. Your threads had picked up an anomaly. “Show yourself,” you said quietly, voice steady but defensive. You turned slowly, posture alert but not aggressive. You were doing your best to avoid conflict because you didn’t want to fight if you didn’t have to. Chrollo stepped out into the open, hands visible and empty, that calm, elegant smile on his face.

“You’re very perceptive,” he said, voice smooth like velvet. “Most wouldn’t have noticed me so quickly.” You studied him carefully, recognition flickering in your eyes. “You’re the leader Feitan answers to.” Your tone was reserved, carrying that quiet weight. “How did you find me?” Chrollo didn’t lie. “I had my people search after Feitan mentioned you. A woman who could work alongside him without dying… that intrigued me.”

You stayed defensive, creating a bit of distance. “I’m not looking for trouble. I have my own objectives here. I’d prefer if we didn’t interfere with each other.” Chrollo took a slow step closer, observing how your sharp mind worked behind those calm eyes. “You carry yourself like someone who has seen too much. Someone who chooses their battles carefully.” He tilted his head slightly. “Yet you continue walking alone. Why not align yourself with something stronger?”

You remained composed, but your guard was clearly up. “Because I know the cost of joining a web like yours. I’ve seen what happens when paths like that consume everything.” The conversation stretched. Chrollo was patient, he didn’t push with force. Instead, he engaged you intellectually, discussing philosophy, the weight of choices, and the nature of power. You countered calmly, revealing just enough of your own insights to match him. It was a battle of minds, and you held your own.

After a long, tense exchange, Chrollo finally offered his hand. “I won’t force you into the Troupe,” he said softly. “But I would like you by my side. Your mind and your strength is rare. Join us and we can walk this path together.” You looked at his outstretched hand for a long moment. Your expression stayed serene, but there was a flicker of reluctant acceptance in your eyes. You were tired of walking completely alone.

“I need time to ponder.” you finally said, looking away from his hand. Chrollo’s smile deepened. “I see.”

Hey @xenxenzen ! I'm sorry if this part is stupid!!! I'm not sure where I should go from here! If you have any crazy ideas, let me know.

[mintedmoments]

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