#roman sionis drabble

[recreationalfanfics]

Yandere! Roman Sionis x Reader

Note: I have a huge crush on Roman Sionis (not the BoP version) so I wanted to try my hand at writing him <3 Also, I am going with the version where he can take the mask off.

Tw. Unhealthy Relationship Dynamics

Roman Sionis was a lot of things.

He was a trust fund kid who relied on daddy’s money all his life until he decided to take that money for himself.

He was a horrible business man so he turned into a mob boss, you know, as you do.

He was a whack job who had a sick and twisted obsession with you and was currently holding you captive.

But you honestly think that the worst part about him was that he was incredibly snarky and condescending. To you at least, his countless victims would most likely complain about his sadistic and brutal torture methods, but you doubt that you’d ever experience that for yourself. Mostly because Roman knew how to psychologically torture people in other ways.

“There we go, don’t you feel all pretty now?” He hummed, tilting his masked face and speaking in a way that made you know he was smirking. 

The scene is tense for everyone. His gangsters stand behind the other tailors who are sobbing quietly as they sit on one knee, you can feel the uneasiness of the two tailors behind you as they silently pray and beg repentance for every sin they’ve committed, but what makes it worse is that all eyes are on you. You want to avoid speaking, one of Roman’s favorite pastimes is to find a way to misinterpret your words on purpose so he could have an excuse to kill someone, to guilt you into thinking that you were the one who condemned them to death despite him pulling the trigger. You feel your stomach churn, knowing that someone was going to die for Roman’s own amusement, and he knew it too.

“C’mon, give Daddy a twirl, yeah?” He hums. 

Daddy.

You scrunch your nose in disgust. You absolutely hated it when he called himself that, it made you want to shrink into yourself, and rip your ears off so you’d never have to hear him say it again. He probably knew you hated it too, guessing by the way he chuckled at your incredibly obvious reaction, and it’s probably the only reason why he says it. Still, you do as he says because you have no choice and try to twirl for him enthusiastically. The last time you tried to be nonchalant about a gift as a form of subtle protest was when you were getting fitted for a ring, that resulted in one person losing their life and the employees getting all of their ring fingers cut off, and you know what Roman said to justify/blame it on you?

“You deserve only the best, sweetheart. If they can’t give it to you, then I don’t think they should be alive.”

Maybe in another life, where you were an equally depraved criminal, you would’ve found his words to be genuine and sweet. However, you knew that Roman Sionis was incapable of being genuine and sweet, and that this was another one of his mind games. A warning for future reference that if you wanna try and resist him, even in the most tiniest and insignificant ways, he will not stand for it. 

“Absolutely stunning.” He praises, standing up to walk towards you. 

You resist the urge to step away from him, no matter how strong it may be, because you know that’s another way to get someone killed. Instead you stand there, obediently like the good spouse you were, and don’t flinch when he brings a gloved hand to the diamond necklace around your neck.

“But you know me, I’m a sucker for you wearing anything expensive,” He says, almost in a tender tone as if there was some truth to his words, but you don’t think about that. Instead, you think about his next sentence:

“What do you think about it?”

You gulp and you look up at him, your eyes silently begging him not to do this to you. Not to make you have to stand outside the shop as you hear gunshots and crying, shamelessly throwing his arm around you with small droplets of blood decorating his nice white suit, and leaving you lying away from his body as your haunted by what you could have done differently even if you knew Roman wouldn’t have let you. His dark eyes stare back at you with nothing but a mischievous glee and you were on higher alert than ever.

“I love it!” You say, forcing your best smile and cheery tone.

He fidgets with your necklace between his fingers, his eyes now studying the way the diamond sparkles rather than your incredibly unconvincing expression, and he just says: “Yeah? That right?”

 Still, you nod eagerly and continue to try and guess what he wants to hear: “Yeah, it looks really good on me, I think! I really like the style, a-and the material, and the uh-” You lose your train of thought as he slowly lets go of the diamond hanging from the sterling silver chain, letting it fall back down to your chest as he slowly starts to walk behind you, and the goosebumps start to rise on your skin. You didn’t like this, you didn’t like this at all, but you still tried your best to keep going, “the, um, the color is nice.”

“The color, hm?” He mumbles, his hands gently massaging your shoulders as he lowers his mouth (or where it’s supposed to be) next to your ear, “You sure about the color, sweet thing?”

You nod your head again, giving a shrill “mhm!” because your words are dying in your throat. You hated it when he got too close like this, it made you nervous, and you wanted him to get away from you. You wanted to push him off, to scream and run, but you also knew you couldn’t do that. His silence made the very blood in your veins run cold but set your mind on fire as you were trying to figure out how to salvage this already doomed moment. 

“Really? Because you hate this color.” Roman states, his hands moving from your shoulders to your waist.

Someone’s sobs become a little louder than the rest and when Roman turns his head to look at them, you quickly turn around to face him again and put your hands on his chest. It does what you intended it to do because his eyes are back on you.

“I changed my mind!” 

“Nah, I don’t think you did. If I recall, you absolutely hate this color because it reminds you of me.”

There’s an edge to his voice now, a petty “gotcha” kind of one. He wasn’t wrong, though, because he tried to give you something in the same horrendous color early on when he abducted you and you blew him off. Saying how you wouldn’t want something so gross and so…him. You gulp, realizing two things: 1. Roman had an excellent memory regarding you and 2. You just lied to his face. 

And he hated it even more when you lied.

You stammer out apologies and excuses, anything that could help the situation but he steps away from you before taking out his concealed gun. One of the workers lets out a fearful cry and tries to back away but one his False Facers comes and grabs them by their shoulders, walking closer towards Roman despite the fearful protest of the poor innocent civilian. They were going to be the first one to die.

“I mean, c’mon, none of ya had the decency to look at how unhappy they were when they saw the color? None of you guys stopped to ask them what was wrong and fix it and put a smile on their precious little face?” He shakes his head as he loads his weapon. They beg for their lives as you try to plead with the devil himself.

“Roman, please, they probably didn’t want to go against you! Th-They knew that you knew best and I- I promise I love this color-” 

You sound so pathetic, yipping at the big dog not to use his fangs, but you had no power here. No one did except for Roman Sionis, a man who never did anything other than to get more power for himself and to make others miserable, even the one he claimed to love the most. 

Then it hits you.

Your body reacts faster than your mind as you take the fleeting opportunity to have one hand grab his mask and the other to grab his tie. Not even Roman was aware of what was happening as he tensed up the moment he felt your lips against his. You gripped the mask tightly in your free hand as you kept a strong hold on his tie, even pulling him closer towards you as if you were trying to chain him to you. As if forcing yourself to do this usually romantic and loving act is enough to break his need for blood. And it does.

Once Roman understands what’s going on, he drops his gun and cups your face with his hands as he kisses you back. Tilting his head to the side to deepen it and his body relaxes. You might not see it but you cloud your mind completely. His eyes stay open for a while as he sees one beautiful tear stream down your cheek before they go half lidded and he surrenders himself to this bliss.

You’re making his heart do the thing again.  You did it to him the first time he met you, then you did it the second time, then so on and so forth, and here you go doing it again to him. You wonder why he’s so addicted to you, don’t worry, he does too. He wonders why he bothers with such an ungrateful little brat who doesn’t appreciate his gestures and only pays attention to the crimson that stains his hands, why he bothers with someone who sleeps on the farthest part of their bed as if Roman was some horrible monster they didn’t want to touch, but it’s times like this that he remembers why. It’s because you were the only one who could make him feel this way, who could give him a taste of what love felt like, but also made him feel so powerful when you did stuff like this as a last resort.He pulls away for air, your lips chase after him despite being out of breath as well to try and buy a little more time, but he’s just gonna tease you later and ask if he was just that damn good of a kisser. 

Roman stares at you again, this time really looking at you, and his hands still cup your face gently. His pants softly under his breath as one thumb from his hand gently caresses your cheek. You stare at him with hopeful eyes and while he does love keeping you at the bottom of his heel and remind you whose in charge…he figures that this time it wouldn’t hurt to let you have your way.

“On second thought, boys,” He starts and he loves the way you edge closer to him unintentionally, “...Let ‘em go, they can be off the hook. This time.”

You let out a breath of relief but then shyly hand Roman back his mask, your hand letting go of his tie and wrapping your arm around his. As he puts on his mask, he relishes in the feeling of you resting your head on his shoulder and being more affectionate with him. Maybe you were so relieved that you managed to get through to him or maybe you were just exhausted with everything that went down but you fall asleep on his shoulder during the ride home and when he’s done admiring the sight, he gently puts his head on top of yours.

[masquenoire]

He remembered it like it was yesterday, eight years old and dragged to yet another stupid party hosted by his parents. Hiding under the table which was covered by an ornate table cloth, it was the perfect place in which to hide away from prying eyes and judgemental gazes of other people. Roman had little interest in talking to any of them, with their fake smiles plastered across their equally fake faces, pretending to like those they were forced to socialize with. His parents were the worst, basking in the attention of their peers like how snakes would bask in the sun. Roman hated them all, scowling from beneath his protective cover. Bored eyes scanned the crowd, looking for those select few people whose company he was able to stomach. Mary wasn't here; he'd have spotted her blonde hair flashing amongst the crowd by now. Similarily there was no Viktor, hiding behind Mr. and Mr's Zsasz's legs. Dark hair caught his attention, and Roman suddenly froze. Bruce Wayne. Roman recognized him instantly, even with his head down as he wandered between the forest of bodies dirtying his family's garden with their presence. How dare he show his face here? Roman's blood boiled, hating every inch of him. His fingers tightened around the knife he’d stolen from the table above, wishing he could give the other boy a sharp poke with it. It wasn’t as though it would be dangerous; the blade was only sharp enough to cut slices of beef and other food that had been dished out to guests, make him squeal and go running back to his mother perhaps. But then Bruce wandered closer, his attention elsewhere and Roman froze, fingers clutching the dinner knife so hard his knuckles turned white. Then Bruce turned in the opposite direction, his mother’s hand suddenly on his shoulder to gently guide her son away. Roman stared from beneath the table as they vanished into the crowd, eyes cold and hard before widening in surprise as he felt himself being yanked to his feet by his hair, his own mother hissing obscenities when she thought nobody else would be able to hear over the din of voices and music all around. It hurt, Roman wincing further as her fingers twisted hard before mercifully letting go, only to slip her mask back on as though nothing had happened. Roman had never hated her more in that moment, Mrs. Sionis suddenly acting every bit the loving mother concerned about her child's disappearance and urging him back into the fray to socialize and play like a good little girl, and to not be a bother again or else. Before the table cover fell, Roman cast a longing gaze back to the knife he’d dropped when his mother had found him, still gleaming on the grass where it had fallen until the waiters would find it later, none the wiser as to how it had gotten there.

[sweetlikehoneystingslikeabee]

Just a thought, not a request (unless you feel inspo to add something!) but I really like the idea of Roman slowly warming up to cuddling and falling asleep with his parter. At first he's a bit cold and guarded about it, but over time he gets comfortable with it...and it gets to the point where's actively irritated if you're apart and he has to fall asleep without you.

"Exposure" Black Mask x reader drabble

;) Just a little thing

TW: none

It's not a mystery that Roman Sionis wants things to be exactly as he likes them. The mystery comes from anticipating his demands before he makes them. A difficult thing for anyone, even to those who know him the best. He's certainly vocal ranging to violent on what he dislikes. Not to you, of course, just... others.

To you, he might shout or play rough. He has to show how tough he is, after all. That bristled behavior that protects himself from being betrayed by anyone ever again. Even with as much as he trusts you, there's still this wall he'll try to put up. It's subtle, but ever-so present.

One of those things is cuddling. Sure, when it's leading to something kinky. Sure, when it's you laying on him as he is watching out the world and protecting you. Sure, when all the control is in his hands and he's not showing a lick of vulnerability. Just him- fully relaxing? haha, what is that?

He physically stiffens the first time you try to get him to just relax and cuddle with you unprompted. Briefly he wonders if it's some kind of a play. You want something out of him- you could just ask, y'know. You tell him that he's had a hard time and you just want him to feel loved- Not in a sexual way or a way he needed to repay.

If he had it this way, you would always fall asleep first so he didn't have to be off-guard. Yet as you massage his shoulders and make him comfortable against you, the weight of his daily life drags his eyelids down. You might even be surprised by the stray snore that whistles through the mask. What's more surprising is the cold shoulder he gives the next morning, almost irritated that you got him to that head space.

Cautiously, almost experimentally, you would try again- multiple times, as he appeared to get used to the idea. He would always be irritable when he spent too long from you. That wasn't new. The facet that changed was how impatient he became when you were busy with your own projects or had fallen asleep without him. He wouldn't wake you up, of course. But he felt some kind of way about it.

It was these moments aside from sex, aside from the rare moments of sweetness, that he could let go. He could trust you'd watch over him like a guardian angel. His guardian angel.

What a beautiful feeling you give him.

[yandere-wishes]

May end up dropping a small Roman Sionis drabble tonight/tomorrow night 💝 it'll be heavily based on snow white.

Anyone want to be on the tag list??

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

in the bleak midwinter

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/0eNlmtj by DittyWrites Enjoying a holiday drink in the Iceberg Lounge, Harvey and Bruce enjoy a small celebration as Bruce embraces his 'Matches Malone' persona. Words: 1785, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 28 of Gotham Rogues Drabbles Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Harvey Dent, Bruce Wayne, Roman Sionis Relationships: Harvey Dent/Bruce Wayne Additional Tags: Christmas Fluff, Companionable Snark, Drinking & Talking, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language, Disguise read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/0eNlmtj

[myriadimagines]

Characters: Reader x Roman Sionis 

Warnings: alcohol consumption

Gif credit: genekellys

Spotify Prompt: 59. Superlove (feat. Oh Wonder) by Whethan: “I’ve been looking at your face, it’s dangerous, making me so goddamn crazy.”

Word Count: 335

A/N: i feel simultaneously so far from and so close to finishing this challenge (reblogs/comments are appreciated! spotify prompts are not open!)

The club glitters from practically every surface you can see, the red hues distorting the room. Right as you step inside, time seems to suspend, as if you’re stepping into a pocket of another dimension.

The music swells through the room, and you weave your way in and out of the drunk partygoers around you, cradling your unfinished drink in hand as you glance around the room. You don’t know why your father insisted on dragging you into the Black Mask Club whilst he was there to conduct business, but here you were. You notice the stares around you, the uneasy glances, but you’re used to them. As the child of one of the powerful mob bosses in Gotham, you’re used to the air of fear that infects everyone around you.

“y/n!” you hear your father’s voice boom from the other side of the club, and you look over to see him sitting with a handsome man, who immediately eyes you up as your gazes lock. He grins, licking his lips, leaning back in the lounge chair he’s sprawled out on, and from the look your father shoots you, you quickly realise why you’re here. You’re here for this man. You approach the table, and your father introduces you, “This is y/n. y/n, meet Mr. Sionis.”

“Please,” Roman interjects before you can respond, and he takes your hand in his as he kisses it. “Roman will do.”

You plaster on a smile as Roman guides you to sit beside him, and he slings an arm around the back of your seat as you coolly respond, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Roman.”

Roman chuckles in response, and you feel yourself getting flustered under his intense gaze. There’s something dark and deadly that glints in his eyes, and you can feel yourself becoming unraveled as he shifts closer to you. Whatever business your father has with this man, you know it’ll be dangerous.

And yet, you find yourself shifting closer to him, anyway.

[littleoddwriter]

they/them victor

Respect | Roman Sionis x Victor Zsasz | ZsaszMask

Hi! So, I just took that as a request, jfsfksdgfk. I hope it was one (it's common for me to receive requests phrased more like this, so), and if not, I still hope you and others enjoy this little drabble-like Fic of They/Them Zsasz. :)

summary; Just a very short insight into Victor correcting Roman about their pronouns and how they came to be, basically.

notes; Victor Zsasz uses They/Them Pronouns; Roman respects that; Drabble-esque Fic; Hint of ZsaszMask at the end.

“I’d like to buy Victor Zsasz’s contract from you, so that he-,” Black Mask stated, but was rudely interrupted by the very man he’s just mentioned.

“They,” Mr. – Mx.? – Zsasz said.

Roman looked up at Victor, narrowing his eyes, although it probably wasn’t very visible – or intimidating – through the mask’s eye holes.

“Excuse me?”

“My pronouns. I go by They/Them.”

His- Their eyes were so piercing, yet vacant, Roman loved the shiver it caused to run down his spine, especially in combination with that smooth, yet kind of gravelly, deep voice.

“Right,” Black Mask muttered and then continued as though he hasn’t been interrupted at all, “so that they will work for me exclusively, ‘kay?”

Galante nodded, “Fine by me. You do have the money ready to go, I presume? You don’t expect me to just hand them over to you without seeing the money first, do you?”

Under his mask, Roman sneered, “Of course.”

Then he pulled out the suitcase filled with all the $750,000 they cost. This Zsasz person was truly quite expensive, but he didn’t mind. He could easily afford it, and he’s made sure to know exactly what he was paying for. Victor’s done a couple of jobs for him already, so Roman had a good understanding of what they were capable of, and he wouldn’t want to go another day without them as his newest asset.

Over a decade later, Roman has in fact never slipped up on Victor’s pronouns since that moment. He surprised himself a little with that, since he usually couldn’t give less of a fuck about people’s comfort, let alone their fucking pronouns. But Zsasz was special in so many ways, so important, and worth all respect the world - and Roman himself - had to offer, apparently.

Hell, he’s even defended them in front of others and made sure everyone knew to respect their pronouns, or else those fucks wouldn’t see the light of day ever again.

Sionis had to admit that perhaps he’s actually become quite infatuated with them from day one, but that was only for them both to know.

[writerbyaccident]

Dropping Pretense (Yandere Black Mask/Roman Sionis x Reader)

Request: Hi, can you make a Roman Sionis imagine where the reader is in the final battle scene and Roman sees this as the perfect opportunity to just scoop her up?

What the fuck had Dinah gotten you into.

When she had texted you that she needed backup helping save some kid, this was not what you had been expecting. Sure, you figured that there would be a few goons, a few guns. What you had definitely not been expecting though was entire goddamn army. And that didn’t even begin to cover the bitter cop, the kid with a diamond in her stomach, the vicious assassin, and the fucking psycho clown. From the moment Dinah had started working for Roman Sionis, you suspected that it would end poorly, but you certainly hadn’t predicted something on this level.

You had always thought that Roman was something of a creep, from the first day that Canary started working at the Black Mask club. Even before you had heard a single thing about his reputation you hadn’t liked him. He was always staring at you, refusing to look away even when he was talking with someone else. And when he was talking to you, the conversations were filled with too frequent laughter, too strong flirting, and far too eager smiles.

With most of Sionis’ army left in the dust by now, you ran beside Dinah and the others towards the ever looming Founders’ Pier. Up ahead you could hear the unmistakable voices of Harley Quinn and Sionis, though the words themselves were incomprehensible. Just as you and the other three women were reaching the start of the pier though, two hidden gunmen popped up from the ruins of a crashed car, wasting no time in shooting at your group. Launching yourself forward, you crashed onto the dilapidated wood of the pier, then rising to a half crouch to run to help Harley and Cass. Even when you rose up though, the gunmen didn’t even attempt to shoot you, just like how Sionis’ men had ignored you all night long. Even as you told yourself to just be grateful and keep moving, that fact wormed uncomfortably at the back of your mind.

Little did you know though, that Roman’s men had been given strict orders to leave you unharmed. To be precise, his exact words had been, “If you harm a single hair on my little flower’s head, getting your face carved off will be the least of your worries.”

If you had known what he had said, perhaps you wouldn’t have run so quickly. For the minute that you reached Sionis, his bloody face broke into a darkly obsessive grin.

“There’s my favorite little flower,” he purred. “I had been hoping that you would show.”

“Kid, are you okay?” you asked, forcing yourself to ignore Sionis’ creepy expression and creepier words.

“Shit!” Harley gasped, dropping her gun at your sudden appearance.

With that opportunity coming so perfectly—truly, Sionis thought, it must have been fate—Sionis wastes no time in pushing Cass away, rushing forward to grab you instead. Bashing the hilt of his knife against the back of your head, the monster gladly supported you as you fell backwards, utterly relishing the chance to hold you freely after so long of wanting to.

“Who cares about a dumb fucking diamond,” he whispered in your ear, “when I’ve got something far more precious?”

As he dragged your dazed form away, Sionis turned back to where Harley was helping Cass off of the ground. Chuckling, the Black Mask places a kiss on your bruised forehead.

“You got yours,” he called out triumphantly, “I got mine. And make no mistake, she is mine.”

[zsaszattack]

I noticed somethin while gif'ing random Victor things for a little series I am doing. You know how at the first meltdown, Victor had it under control right? The one everyone knows in Roman's room after Dinah and Victor had to explain the bad news;

Losing the diamond.

This is the one where Victor shows how he can help calm Roman down easily. Or...so we thought.

The second one at the club however... Look closely.

He doesn't. He tried to comfort him but it almost looks like Roman slaps his hand away. He is super fucking pissed to the point not even Victor can help him. Victor even... flinches a little, drawing his hand back super fast and goes back to his usual “professional” posture with his hands behind his back. 

For those who may not remember why he is pissed here, it is when Victor tells Roman that Harley found the kid (Cassandra) but then disappeared.

AKA, disappeared with Roman's diamond.

Then this meltdown happens which led to the table scene which we are all familiar with. Victor was a huge part of that too. If he couldn't help Roman by the usual way, he knew that this was the only way to help him.

To blow off some steam, as Victor would say.

That whole;

      "Is she laughing at me?!"

                       "She is."

No she wasn't, Victor. But alright I guess.

He knew what he was doin'.

I think Victor too, was angry that he couldn't do anythin' about the meltdown or gettin' the diamond back so someone else had to suffer for it.

So point of all this is... Victor cannot always comfort Roman, even if he tries to. Sometimes he just has to step back and watch things happen. Roman finds other ways to calm down and if that means yelling at poor innocent people then that is how it will go. Of course, Victor will add fuel to the fire if he knows it will somehow help the tantrum somehow. Like that club scene for example since he knew if he couldn't help Roman personally, then someone else had to pay the price for it.

Victor will just watch from the background as his Boss just screams and causes a whole damn scene.

[zodiyack]

Tell Me It’s Real

Requested by anon: So I had this idea for a fic where the reader is pretending to be in love with Roman to get close to him. The reader is a viglante and plans to take him down when she earns his trust. he finds out about her plans and he’s upset because he really likes her. But instead of killing her he keeps her as a prisoner. Sorry if that’s too specific. I love your work!

Pairing: Roman Sionis x reader

Warnings: Swearing, angst, alcohol, drugging, crime, soft!Roman, mention of murder, kidnapping(?), mention of Roman’s homemade removal surgery (aka face skinning), mention of Stockholm syndrome? idk, movie reference

Note: I hope this is what you wanted! I’m sorry if I went a bit offtrack! I also I apologize, I was rather tired when writing the first half of this!

Taglist: @stardancerluv​​ @matth1w​​ @redspaceace​​

Masterlist | Birds of Prey Masterlist

Part Two

Her lips formed into a smirk against his. He was tempted to deepen their kiss, but for now, he was being interrupted with a business deal. With him being more focused on the pain across from him who was pleading for a deal, he didn’t notice the flicking eyes of his girlfriend. The way she subtly listened to their conversation.

But just because Roman hadn't noticed didn’t mean Victor didn’t take caution. He saw her, just as he did every time she did something of the sort. He was curious to know why, but he left it be. As Roman’s best friend and employee, he knew the boundary of accusing Roman’s lover of anything without solid evidence.

He tried photos. But Y/n was the same as he was with her. Both keeping an eye on each other. He tried to set up cameras. But she was always one step ahead, always being out of the view of the lens or the footage would “somehow” be glitchy, deleted, ruined, just never the way he knew it was supposed to be.

It all added up for him. However, not for Roman. Head over fucking heals for Y/n; he refused to believe anything that was said of her. From Victor or someone else. He never believed.

This was the time. Victor was determined to catch her. She had to fuck up at some point, right? No human being was that perfect.

“Rome?” Her breath tickled his neck, distracting him from the conversation. She nipped at his ear as he made a “mhm” sound in response to his name. “I’m feeling thirsty. What about you?”

“Exactly the same as you, angel. I’ll get Vincent to g-”

“No!” Victor’s head snapped up, both him and Roman had a look of confusion and shock at her sudden raise of voice. “I mean, no. I’ll get them myself.”

“Oh...if you’d like. Come right back though, alright, Angel?”

“Yes sir. I love you, Romey.” She kissed him roughly before setting off to get the promised drinks. Now that she finally had control over him, her plan was being set into motion. He finally trusted her. She knew of the reports being made of her, she knew how Roman turned them down like they were just rumors, it all was just proof that it was the perfect time for her to begin.

She went up to the bar and asked for two cups of a random alcohol. When the man handed her the drinks, she thanked him and walked to a dark corner, pouring pills into one of the cups. Thank god she accepted Harley’s offer.

“Wait! Please, just let me go, I just started my life free of Mr. J! I’ll give you something in return!”

“Harley, what on earth could you possibly have that would stop me from turning you in?”

She fished around in her pocket, smiling brightly when she found what she was searching for. “Here,” she held out a bottle of pills. Specifically the kind you’d use to drug someone. The kind to knock them out. “take ‘em!”

“What the hell would I need these for? I’m a fucking vigilante, I’m throwing you guys in jail, not kidnapping you.”

“You know exactly what they’re for!”

Her arms folded over her chest, inhaling deeply and rolling her eyes. “No, Harley, I really don’t.”

“Oh come on Y/n! Don’t be so modest! I know you’re goin’ for the big one! Roman Sionis?”

Her eyes widened. “H-how did you-”

“Easy! You and that other... scary.. cop lady want a case against him. You’re the only new person so he has no idea who you are, meaning it’s easy for you to sneak right in and turn him to putty in your hands before... ya know-” She shook the pills next to her face. “You may have gotten some people in jail, but if you build your reputation up too quickly, he’ll have you shot dead before you can even reach the lot of his club.”

“And how do I know you won’t go blabbering to him?” Y/n drawled, taking the bottle from the blonde.

“Really? He hates my guts. I thought you knew that already? Oooh righttt, you’re new. Sorry, I just forgot for a sec due to how good you are at this hero shit.”

“...Thanks?”

“Anytime sweets!” She glanced down at her wrist, checking an imaginary watch. “Welp, nice talking to ya, but I gotta go. Seeya!” Before any words could leave Y/n’s mouth, Harley was already on the back of the bus, holding onto the rail and catching an illegal ride.

She sat back down, smiling at her boyfriend and handing him the cup with the drugged drink. One of the men across from her initiated a conversation. It was the perfect timing for something against her plan.

Victor had seen her. He’d seen the pills. Stealthily, but obvious enough for Roman to notice him, he switched the cups. and shrugged when Roman raised an eyebrow.

“Could I make a toast?”

Y/n turned to Victor, smiling and grabbing the glass in front of her. Victor spat out some bullshit toast and downed his glass, the rest of the table following his action. A few moments went by and Y/n started to sway, she struggled to keep her eyes open.

“Angel? Are you alright? Do you need us to leave early?”

“I’m.. I’m fine Rome. I p-promi...promise...” The last “promise” of her sentence was whispered. Her head hit the table and her eyes fell closed. Roman jumped up, no knowing what was going on or who to blame.

“You! What the fuck did you do to her Victor?”

He assumed quickly, based off Victor switching their cups in front of him. “It wasn’t me. That cup was from her, meant for you. Remember? I didn’t do jack-shit to her.”

It hit him. Finally. It hit him like a thunderbolt striking his tall form. Moments he should’ve taken note of. The times she was caught in suspicious actions and brushed it off with some excuse he believed. There was still one more thing.

“Out.” No one moved. Rarely anyone heard him. If they did, they didn’t listen to him. “Out!! GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY CLUB!” Just like that, they did. People swarmed, racing to the exit, not wanting to face the furry and wrath of Roman Sionis. “Zsasz-”

“On it boss.” He began to pick her up and head into the direction of where Roman’s infamous unconsented facial removal surgeries took place. 

“Where the fuck are you going?”

“I-”

“Don’t listen? I know. As I was going to say, chain her up... please. Don’t hurt her, don’t kill her,” He turned to the rest of his employees, “you got that? NONE OF YOU LAY A FUCKING HAND ON HER! Or it’ll be your face I skin next.”

Audible gulps sounded through the room. No one moved. Not even an inch.

“Well? GO!”

. . .

She woke up, vision blurred and wrists feeling sore. Her eyes were watery and her throat felt dry. She couldn’t have messed up, she knew exactly what glass it was in! No matter her mistake, she was obviously in for it now. ‘Fuck.’

“Well well, look who’s awake Roman!” A voice sneered from in front of her. Y/n managed to look up, meeting the eyes of Victor Zsasz. “Look at you now. So helpless. You’ve failed, ya know? Just one little brat who ca-”

“Enough, Victor.”

Victor’s eyes never left Y/n’s. He stared her down while mumbling an apology to Roman, obviously not genuine. She took the chance, smiling mischievously, and spat in his face.

“You bitch!” His hand raised to meet her face, but Roman stopped him quickly.

“Victor. I said enough.” Y/n could hear his steps approaching her. Great, she really was gonna die. “Please leave us, friend.”

“Yeah whatever.”

He left, just as Roman had asked, Although she acted fearless and literally just did something that could’ve gotten her killed on the spot, a tinge of fear made it’s way to her gut. Roman seemed intrigued with his girlfriend. Was she really afraid or was she skimming through her mind for an escape strategy?

Neither. 

She was too busy shivering with wide eyes, confused by Roman’s actions.

“Listen... I know, I should kill you. I mean, if anyone else had done it, I would’ve peeled their fucking face off and then made them suffer a horrible death, but you... I fucking loved you. I- I love you.”

“Roman. P-please I-”

“No. I’ve already figured it out, Angel.”

“Roman! I beg of you, please don’t kill me.. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have hurt you like that! I hurt you by using your heart rather than a less emotional tactic and I’m sorry!”

Roman tutted, walking around Y/n and kneeling in front of her. “Y/n, Y/n, Y/n. You’re right, it hurt me in a very unfair way, but your apologies won’t excuse your attempt of knocking me out.”

“How did you-” She thought back, Victor keeping his eyes on her, her finding what she thought to be an unoccupied corner and not bothering to check her surroundings. “Shit.”

“O-huh-ha-o! You finally figured it out! Well, he switched the glasses, and look where we are now. The woman I love, trying to kill me. What is this, Mr. and Mrs. Smith?”

“Could be.” she sighed. “Are you gonna...” The chains rattled against the floor as she moved her hands in a circle motion over her face.

“Skin you? No. I’m gonna keep you here.” He stood up.

“Am I gonna die?”

“No to that question as well.” Roman started towards the door. “There is, however, a way you can get out of this.”

“And that is?”

He turned slightly, eyes meeting hers. “Well you gotta make sure it’s the truth. Some guy is coming by and he loves his machinery. Something about it shocking you if you lie?” A goofy “oops”-kind-of-smile rested on his lips.

“But what is it that I need to do?”

The door slammed shut and the locks clicked into place. “Tell Me It’s Real.”

✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦  

Part two? Also I’m sorry if this story is like...REALLY ooc or something, I just went with the flow. 

And with the movie reference part (Mr. And Mrs. Smith) I could totally write an au for that as a Roman Sionis if y’all like that idea. Him or another character, I don’t mind, I just like the movie a lot

✘ Bowie

[acapelladitty]

Zsaszmask vampire AU? For the 3 sentence fic thing.

The rhythmic pulse of the club was in full swing and the sweet scent of the blood as it beat frantically within the patrons veins had Roman's fangs aching as they pressed against his gums, demanding their release.

His eyes swept across the dancefloor, seeking out a potential victim for the night, only for his concentration to be interrupted by a familiar presence at his side as sharp fangs ghosted against his neck and Victor's low voice rumbled against his ear.

"Dinner's waiting in the backroom for us," Victor muttered, inhaling the scent of Roman deeply as he sensed his growing hunger, "and it's twins from Metropolis that won't be missed so we can have some fun."

[sweetlikehoneystingslikeabee]

Black Mask/Roman Sionis

Black Mask Romance and General HCs

General Background

"Wearing Masks" Black Mask x f!reader

"Love Bites" Black Mask x f!reader

"Let them look." Black Mask x Reader NSFW

"It's a good thing we pay so much to eat here, or they might actually kick us out-" Black Mask x F!S/O (Valentine's Event 2024) NSFW

"Sworn Enemies to Sworn Lovers" Black Mask x F!S/O Date Night (Valentine's 2024 Event) NSFW

"What's mine is NOT yours" - Black Mask x F!reader (Valentine's Event 2024)

"Annoying Ringtone" Black Mask x F!S/O (Valentine's Event 2024)

"Lonely Nights" Black Mask x Reader Love Letter (Valentine's 2024 Event)

"All day, all night, Seven Days a Week" Black Mask x Reader

"Lesson Plan" Black Mask x Reader

"Night-time Joyride" Black Mask X Reader Date Night (Valentine's Day Event 2025)

"Midnight Swim" Black Mask X Reader Date Night (Valentine's Day Event 2025)

"Mile High Club" Black Mask x F!Reader (Valentines Day Event 2025)

"Exposure" Black Mask x reader drabble

[yandere-wishes]

oh no I just read the rules and noticed that the question box is closed, sorry! I should have read it sooner

Heyy Anon, Yeah the box says closed (mainly cause I keep forgetting to change it) But I put out a post this morning, desperately asking for people to send in yandere thoughts for Harvey Dent, Roman Sionis, Capitano and Ororon (and heck let's throw Jason Todd in there too.)

TBH when I have the askboxed closed it doesn't really mean it's closed for ideas/drabbles/hc/etc it just means that if you request a story there's a chance I might not get to writing it for a while. But I always try to answer anything that isn't asking for a full story. I just got some amazing Harvey and Roman asks that I can turn into drabbles and HC!! So super excited for that.

Anyway, this turned into a bit of a ramble. I need to head back to doing HW so that I can hopefully carve out some writing time tomorrow.

Love you Anon~💋💋

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

in the bleak midwinter

by DittyWrites Enjoying a holiday drink in the Iceberg Lounge, Harvey and Bruce enjoy a small celebration as Bruce embraces his 'Matches Malone' persona. Words: 1785, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 28 of Gotham Rogues Drabbles Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Harvey Dent, Bruce Wayne, Roman Sionis Relationships: Harvey Dent/Bruce Wayne Additional Tags: Christmas Fluff, Companionable Snark, Drinking & Talking, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language, Disguise via https://ift.tt/0eNlmtj

[deepbatched]

hey, tarren! congrats on 100! that’s amazing! may i please request roman sionis with medieval/fantasy & “I feel things for you that I shouldn’t”? thank you!!!

Thank you so much, Kara 💕 Oh, my heart leaped at this request!! I hope you like what I've written up for you!

100 follower celebration

Roman Sionis x F!Reader

Roman Sionis + Medieval/Fantasy + "I feel things for you that I shouldn't."

"I'm tired of you avoiding me, my lady," the knight says from atop his mount as it trots beside you.

Your ladies-in-waiting giggle at Ser Roman Sionis' approach. The Black Death, many called him for his armor was pitch black like the night and his helmet he had fashioned into a skull with its teeth bared. He's known for being ruthless as well as quite popular with the fairer sex. This is not the first time he has approached you, in fact he was relentless in pursuing you. You've had some chaste stolen moments with him, but at the behest of your better judgement you have since ceased giving him your attention.

But Ser Roman is not one for taking no for an answer.

"It's better this way," you say nonchalantly as you continue to walk. He follows beside you trying tot navigate his steed through the streets.

"I don't accept that answer," he replies. "I don't accept that that is what you desire."

"You're right, I don't," you admit glancing up at him. "But I feel things for you that I shouldn't and that's why we cannot continue this."

"Call me a guilty pleasure then," he says with a sly smirk. "Indulge a little, my lady."

"You are guilty of pleasure, Ser," you quip. "How would I know your feelings are true? There are whispers of your prowess on the battlefield as well as off."

"Only whispers, my lady," he says dismounting his steed. "Fruitless rumors."

He stands in front of you, imposing even without his armor. His face is handsome though scarred, his dark hair framing his features.

"I can assure you," he says. "That were you mine, then no other would matter. You have my word."

You dismiss your entourage of ladies and turn to face him. "And what is your word worth?" you ask with all seriousness.

Oh yes, you know the Black Death's reputation; he is not known to be the noblest of knights, he has a history of dishonesty as well as other things. You've heard stories about how he toys with his enemies and how he doesn't strike them fatally so he can watch the life leave their eyes. Oh yes, you shouldn't feel things for him, but you do.

"Say you're mine and you'll see," he replies with a devilish grin. "I won't accept any other answer.

He's moved in close now, very close. His eyes bore into yours and flick down to your lips. He looks like he's ready to pounce on you like a vulture to carrion. You're stunned into silence at his intense aura, your heart drums loudly in your ears. He smirks and leans in close to whisper, his breath warm on your neck.

"I'll give you some time to think about it," he purrs. "But you should know that in the end, I always get what I want."

[whirlybirbs]

❛ i’m not afraid of you. ❜ w/ Bruce

3  ;   PROMISED HAVEN — THE BATMAN / READER  

summary: you move into selena kyle's old apartment. bruce has taken to watching you. a drabble series.

pairing: batman x f!reader, set five months after the events of the batman (2022)

rating: t+ for canon typical violence

a/n: gasp, characterization? relationship building? some bruce wayne angst about being so desperately alone and isolated? wow! that’s part three! and, don’t forget, you can read me on ao3!

previous   |    next

Nobody comes to Gotham seeking salvation.

Most people come to this city to get away — or to get in deep with men far from saving. If you know where to look, Gotham has plenty of prospect. Untapped lines of drug running and mob hits that bleed into the streets like a silver vein.

Good money for those who seek it.

At first, you thought maybe it was all talk.

But, it only took a month or two for you to really see how deep the corruption and violence lay in this city; as if it was braided into it's foundation, woven into every brick-laid building.

Mayor Reál had her work cut out for her. And the new District Attorney, Harvey Dent? Seems like the two were prying out the diseased, cancerous parts of their own administration daily. No anesthetic. Lives ruined. Lies topped.

It's a dangerous game.

The Gotham Gazette is certainly making a pretty penny on all those headlines.

The point is, you came to Gotham looking to get away — and you did just that.

But, Vengeance's little quip about finding better employment has been rattling in your brain for the last two weeks.

You're here because of your biggest mistake — and the following vines of that mistake that ensnared you and swallowed you whole. You spent a whole year nurturing lies and always looking over your shoulder. Twelve months of paranoia. Three hundred and sixty-five days of trying to earn your innocence and your freedom.

That detective from Blüdhaven PD promised you were in the clear.

So, here you are — new name, new job, new place.

The rat reborn.

...You aren't happy.

You haven't been happy — and the point is that you can be happy.

And busting your ass for minimum wage and minimal tips probably isn't helping.

You can start new here; you don't need to slip back into the comfortable conformity of criminality. You can move past it, stride towards the dreams you held back in Blüdhaven — before you fell in stride with the reach of Roman Sionis’ personal empire.

You’re on page three of a LinkedIn search when you hear it.

The gentle rattle of the fire escape.

From your spot in bed, you instincively curl a little tighter. Your room, small and dim, is illuminated by a gentle warm light cast from the string around the room. Your curtains obscure the shadow looming beyond the pane, but you know immediately it’s him.

You move slowly towards the edge of your bed and push aside the curtains.

The window rattles open slowly, and you place your arms on the open sill.

He’s glad to see you’re healing.

Again, if Bruce is being honest with himself, he knows why he’s here. A fixation.

In the evening light of the moon, he can see the planes of your face twist into something like a slight smile — then, your eyes flutter down to the fire escape where a certain gray cat sits. The very cat who you’d been worrying over.

You’ve named him Dorian.

Y’know, like Dorian Gray. Ha.

Dorian didn’t like staying indoors. You tried. Put a collar on him and everything. Within the first hour, he’d somehow wrangled the little bell off his neck and howled non-stop at the window. Anytime you opened the apartment door, he made it his life goal to escape.

So, you decided it would be cruel to keep him from Gotham.

And, most nights, he did come back.

Except last night.

Seems like the Bat found him.

You reach out and brush your fingers through Dorian’s fur. He trills, swats his tail, and continues eating from the day-old plate of cat food you’d left out for him.

The Bat leans back, arms across his chest, and speaks slowly.

“Found him on the steps of City Hall.”

Your eyes snap to him.

“...What?”

“Busy night.”

...Was that a joke? From Vengeancce himself?

Your eyes slip across his masked expression as a slow, incredulous smile warms up your face. You laugh, then, and duck your head.

“He’s petitioning for tighter anti-corruption laws, I guess.”

That earns a slow hum.

His cape flutters in the night air.

You see him turn his head — and you watch his closely as he looks out over the view of the Old Gotham neighboorhood.

You rest your chin on your arms.

The city breathes as you both watch. A thousand sounds, all melting together in a cacophny of life. Voices, music, sirens. And still, it’s quiet.

“Thank you,” you say softly.

His mouth twitches.

“For what?” comes the dry reply.

“Bringing Dorian home.”

He turns his head back to you, and you swear there’s a skeptical look of disbelief there beneath the mask.

“Dorian?” he rasps.

You point to the cat.

Then, the Bat squints and his eyes narrow critically.

“Dorian.”

“Like Dorian Gr—”

“Dorian Gray,” he finishes; Bruce’s lips quirk as he turns away again, “...Could be worse.”

“Smokey was considered for a moment there,” you mumble tiredly as you lazily stroke the shorthair’s fur. You’re leaning on the sill, laptop glowing behind you.

At the retort, another unamused look is shot your way.

You catch yourself smirking.

Then, a comfortable silence ebbs over the both of you.

Just you and the mythic vigilante — the one who is the subject of so many Twitter conspiracy threads that you’ve found yourself parsing one too many times. He’s here, the one that people clammor to catch sight of following his heroics during the Long Halloween. Gotham’s Hero — the city’s Dark Knight.

“...Can I ask you something?”

The Batman inhales. “...No promise on an answer.”

“Why are you here?”

His eyes meet yours and you’re suddenly reminded that he’s a man beneath that mask.

Be it lonely or lost or sad. He’s a man all the same.

Not so mythic when you can see the pinch of his brow, the twitch of his eyes. They’re blue, like a cold winter sky. In the haze of the city’s lights, you can see his lips press tightly together.

He decides not to answer.

After all, he can’t even answer that himself.

Best not to pry that open, lest he realize the twisted little things that have begun to take root in his heart.

He knows, though, on the surface — he is lonely.

Completely alone.

There is Alfred, but — there is only Alfred.

He has Gotham. And the night. And bruise after bruise after bruise. That is all he has. Pain and a chill, for the shadows are his home and no one elses.

BRUCE WAYNE, ORPHANED AT AGE EIGHT! SOLE SURVIVING VICTIM OF SENSELESS VIOLENCE!

You can see the swirl of turmoil in the cold mask he sets upon his face. He almost loses himself for a moment. Reality spins back into focus.

"Does it bother you?” he answers instead.

Your brows tighten; you frown. “I’m not afraid of you.”

He shifts, then. Black as the void and tall. He straightens his posture and his gloves flex taunt around the railing of the fire escape. You watch his back turn, cape flicking in the night air.

“Maybe you should be.”

And then he’s gone.