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thegreatwicked · 4 days

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Shadows of Deception - Chapter Fifteen

The Great Wicked

Summary: In Gotham City, a world of secrets and danger, Belladonna finds herself embroiled in a web of crime when she becomes a witness to illicit activities at Roman Sions' exclusive club, Masquerade Noir. Instead of eliminating her, Roman sees an opportunity and spares her life, forming an unconventional alliance. They pose as a couple, using each other as alibis to deceive the police. But as they delve deeper into their charade, their connection intensifies, blurring the lines between reality and deception. As desire and danger collide, they discover unexpected love in the midst of a thrilling and forbidden affair.

Rating: Explicit; graphic depictions of sex and violence

Pairing: Roman Sionis/OFC; Belladonna Black, slight Zsasz/OFC if enough interest.

She Knows It by Steven Rodriguez

Roman sat back in a plush chair outside the glass-walled conference room, his dark eyes fixed on the meeting taking place inside. Ever stare at something for too long before your mind just takes it and runs with it? Or you say a word too many times until it loses all meaning? That was how Roman was feeling.

With each passing moment he sat in that chair ‘people watching’ his mind wandered further. The conference room began to look less like a conference room and more like a giant fish tank with its floor-to-ceiling glass walls and bland artwork that was supposed to be thought-provoking but only induced boredom. And let's not forget the generic, mass-produced paintings that were meant to add some color but ended up blending into the beige office walls perfectly. So stimulating.

The ergonomic design of the chairs in the room was reminiscent of strange coral furniture one might find in a fish tank. The potted plants in the corners probably aimed to add some vitality to the sterile environment, which likely saw many long hours and late nights without exposure to any natural stimuli.

Yes, the longer he looked the more it looked like a fish tank.

The men in their suits became a school of angelfish, drifting aimlessly. The women with their bright colored high fashion frocks like Discus fish effortlessly floating through the water.

And there, in the center of it all, perched on the table leafing through papers and glancing back at her laptop was Belladonna. Her inky-black hair flowing loosely, cascading down her shoulders like the elegant fins of a betta fish. Dressed in the black jacket, and silver jewelry that Roman had delivered for her that morning made for a striking contrast against that only solidified his odd comparison. Beautiful and elegant. And just like a female beta fish, she seemed to furrow her brow when approached by her male colleagues - he was well acquainted with the difference between her ‘resting bitch face’ and her ‘are you that fucking stupid’ expressions to know that her colegues were not impressing her with theri smart deas.

Why was he comparing the woman he wanted to fuck to a fish? He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Goddamn it, Cobblepot.” He muttered under his breath, refocusing his attention on the conference room and trying to shake off his annoyance.

Fuck he hated fish.

Roman couldn't understand why people would choose to have fish as pets.

Fish were about the most ridiculous idea for a pet Roman could think of, but people loved them. Maybe because they were cheap and easy to dispose of when they inevitably died - just a quick flush down the toilet. Some people went for the more exotic options like lionfish, piranhas and even electric eels. But at least those were interesting, lionfish were venomous, electric eels looked scary as fuck and he could certainly see the benefits of having something like piranhas floating nearby. Perfect for getting rid of unwanted guests...or bodies.

Roman didn’t personally like fish. In fact he thought they made horrifically boring bets and he had little interest in pets in the first place. He didn’t even have any as a kid. Though that might have been due to his parents not having any faith in Roman not using them as target practice or something.

Bit extreme. He didn’t hate animals, he just found them like he found most living things; clingy and annoying.

He looked back to Belladonna adjusting her glasses and combing a hand through her hair. He liked those glasses on her, he’d have to see if he could convince her to wear a sexy little pencil skirt, then he could live out the sexy librarian thing again, the first time it was for the novelty of it. Not because he particularly liked the woman but hey, a fantasy was a fantasy.

Betafish weren’t boring.

Hell, females could be so aggressive that they would attack males, nip at them to establish dominance and it could result in injury and even death.

God, he loved a woman who wasn’t afraid to take a bite out of him. It was what he found fascinating about Belladonna, she was afraid of him, no doubt, but she didn’t act like it. Hell, she’d put a gun in his hand and all but dared him to shoot her. Fuck the woman had some balls, her temper flaring like the vibrant fins of a betta.

They were some of the most common fish in aquariums, but commonality didn’t mean less interesting. Hell, diamonds were as common as taxis but that didn’t stop everyone from falling all over themselves saving two months salary for one. Bettas in particular were well liked for their beauty, intelligence and their spunky personalities.

The problem was that most people didn't know how to properly care for them or keep them happy. Instead, they would see these stunning creatures and impulsively buy them, only to place them in tiny fish bowls that were unfit for their needs. Her shabby loft came to mind, a place far below her worth. She'd chosen to keep a low profile, to avoid the limelight that should have been hers.

Eventually the shimmer in their scales would fade and they’d more than likely be forgotten about. Not Belladonna, she shimmered in a dark room.

Roman blinked, suddenly aware that his mind had been drifting into an almost absurd fantasy about fish. He scowled at the thought, silently cursing Oswald Cobblepot again for filling his head with such useless information. The man had a penchant for talking endlessly about his various collections and interests, and naturally, in his years of knowing Oswald Cobblepot he’d been forced to absorb information about things he didn’t care about whenever they spoke.

Cobblepot had a thing for penguins and naturally with his collections of oddities at the Cyrus Pinkney Natural History Museum. He also collected seemingly useless information, which he then forced upon Roman in their younger years.

Roman knew far too much about fish for his own personal liking: including tips on how to care for betta fish.

He shook his head, his thoughts went to some strange places when his mind was stagnant like it was currently.

His fingers tapped impatiently against his leg, the urge to barge into the meeting growing stronger by the second. But he knew she would bear the brunt of those consequences and then he’d be subject to hers. And while Roman was sure he could turn that frustration into something a little more fun with most people, Belladonna wasn’t most people. He sighed, forcing himself to remain seated.

He needed to get a gameboy or something, watching the meeting Belladonna was stuck in wasn’t good for his IQ, he could feel it dropping by the second. And by this point it had to have dropped at least by thirty points, because he’d been waiting for thirty minutes.

Once he’d focused on their moving lips it had gotten a little bit better, he couldn’t quite read lips but he could make out some words:

"Emergency... Urgent... Expensive… Client… Fired…" Roman whispered under his breath, catching a few words. Roman's eyes flicked to Zsasz, who stood beside him with an air of stoic indifference. "You picking up anything useful?" he asked in a low voice.

“Nope.”

Zsasz shook his head, but Roman wasn’t surprised, he noticed that the man's gaze seemed to be following Belladonna's assistant, Daisy, as she moved around the room. Fair enough, he was Zsasz’s boss, not his goddamned babysitter, it he wanted to eye fuck Daisy; let him. Someone should.

She was too tiny for Romans taste anyway, he liked curves, hips, breasts. Daisy was just too petite for his taste. But judging by the way Zsasz was watching her, it didn’t seem to bother him.

Back to the meeting, it didn’t seem to be wrapping up or getting any better. He knew from the way her brow furrowed and the tenseness in her shoulders that whatever was the topic of discussion wasn’t a very pleasant one. It didn’t look like she was bearing the brunt of anyone's wrath but rather she was trying to untangle a mess. She hadn’t even noticed him there on the chair in the small waiting area and he hadn’t really said or done anything because at first watching her had been somewhat fascinating. Then he made the comparison of the conference room looking like an aquarium and then… Shit. He needed to stop this.

Roman checked his watch again, scowling. Thirty-five minutes now with no sign of the meeting ending. Roman's fingers went back to tapping impatiently on the arm of his chair as he watched Belladonna continue her heated conversation with her boss.

She threw up her hands, clearly exasperated. His fingers tightened on the armrests of his chair.

Maybe she finally felt his gaze on her but he seemed to catch Belladonna's attention and she looked at him, he winked at her and she at least smirked at his little flirtatious charm, but she was still clearly strained by the weight of the conversation she was having.

He knew that look well, it was the look of someone who was surrounded by incompetence or someone who was forced to fix something that wasn’t their problem to begin with. Roman gestured with a nod of his head, urging her to join him outside the conference room. But she only shook her head softly, her expression remaining serious, before turning her attention back to her boss.

Pulling out his phone, Roman quickly typed a message.

'Problem, angel?'

As he hit send, his eyes flicked to Daisy, who often had Belladonna’s cell in her possession, glanced at the notification. She offered Roman a little wave hand, held up a finger then showed the text to Belladonna, and after a brief pause, Belladonna texted back, as her eyes darted back and forth from the phone to whomever was talking

'Can't talk.'

"Damn it," Roman muttered under his breath, his jaw tightening.

Well, he couldn’t necessarily be angry, it wasn’t like she was ignoring him. But he still wasn’t wild about being sidelined. He wanted her undivided attention, not this nonsense with clients and deadlines. Frustrated but simply too stubborn to quit, he decided to try another approach and texted Daisy instead.

‘Everything alright, Daisy? Your latte is getting warm.’

She was sitting at the conference table looking up from a laptop then looking at her phone, her eyes met his as she read the message, and she offered Roman and Zsasz an appreciative smile. They could see the tension in her shoulders begin to ease, if only slightly.

She seemed in a far better mood than Belladonna and offered a smile and twirled her finger around her temple to convey the insanity of what was currently happening. Roman chuckled.

‘Everything alright Daisy?’

She looked like she was struggling to put her thoughts into words and after a minute she got up, whispered something to Belladonna, who looked back and forth between Daisy, Roman, and her boss before giving a small, almost imperceptible nod.

"Finally," Roman murmured, as Daisy excused herself from the conference room.

The moment the door swung open, a cacophony of raised voices spilled out into the waiting room, as predicted, it wasn’t good.

Daisy emerged looking utterly relieved to be free from the chaos within. As she approached Roman, he got to his feet and held out her iced green tea latte, from the way she was looking at the cold drink one might be tempted to think that Roman was holding out a winning lotto ticket. She gratefully accepted the drink and a quick sip seemed to energize her a bit.

"Thank you," Daisy said gratefully, wrapping her hands around the cold cup and taking a long sip. Her expression softened, and she let out a frazzled breath, trying to shake off the tension that clung to her like a second skin.

Zsasz watched the exchange with an amused glint in his eyes, leaning casually against the wall. He gave Daisy a playful wink, which elicited a small smile from her before Roman's deep voice cut through the lingering tension.

“Daisy, Daisy… What’s got my girls so worked up?” She smiled at Romans' endearing ‘his girls’ note. “Bad day?”

She shook her head, “It’s one for the books, that’s for sure.” She took another sip, “Falls into the category of ‘its not our fault but it is our problem’ kind of thing.”

"What's going on?" Roman asked, charming concern coloring his voice.

"It's been absolute chaos since this morning," She began, sweeping a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Long story short, we had a huge post-fashion week photo shoot scheduled with the Gotham Literary Society, but there was some sort of paperwork snafu with the permits. Now we're out of a location and scrambling to find one to accommodate the client."

“Yes, I read about that, the site’s just been restored after a two year long renovation.” Roman added casually. Daisy nodded and emphatically gestured with her hand in confirmation as she took another sip of her coffee.

“Exactly! We need to find another location by tomorrow or we might lose the client, Lauren is pissed and well, everyone is scrambling to figure something out." She explained, frustration creasing her brow. "Her bosses are breathing down her neck, which means she’s breathing down our necks. There's talk that if we lose this client, several people might lose their jobs. It’s literally no one’s fault but someone’s gotta pay, right?" She glanced back at the conference room, worry etched in her features. "We're trying to find a place for the shoot, but it's practically impossible because most popular locations are booked already and have been for months. It's the week after fashion week, after all."

“Big client?”

“Huge,” She looked around and lowered her voice, “Adrian Blackwood.” Romans face lit up in recognition. “He just debuted his entire collection and lets just say he had other offers for people to work with, we need to figure this thing out but we’re running out of time. He’s expecting the details to be confirmed by the end of the day which is officially in,” She paused and looked at her watch, “Six hours. Any place worth booking is booked out and any place available isn’t worth the trouble.”

"Are you or Belladonna's jobs at risk?" Roman's concern for their well-being was palpable, his fingers tapping against the side of his leg as he awaited Daisy's response.

She hesitated, biting her lip. "I'm not sure. Belladonna might be okay, but I can't say the same for myself. Assistants get fired all the time, we’re a dime a dozen but I’m pretty sure Belladonna would march out with me while giving them all the stiffest middle finger ever.”

Roman scoffed, of that, he had no doubts. Despite Belladonna’s claims of not having any friends, she was loyal, he’d only recently seen just how loyal.

"We can't have that," He said, shaking his head. He looked back at the chaotic conference room, his gaze finding Belladonna's once more. Roman furrowed his brow in thought before an idea struck him. "Daisy, I think I can help," He declared. "Tell her to come speak with me."

Daisy seemed uncertain, glancing between Roman and the ongoing chaos inside the meeting room. She took a deep breath, seemingly weighing the potential consequences, briefly opening her mouth to try and argue but Roman insisted and his tone of confidence seemed to convince Daisy it was worth the interruption. Finally, she shrugged, an air of ‘fuck it’ in her demeanor.

"What's the worst that could happen?" With that, she turned on her heel and made her way back into the lion's den to relay Roman's message to Belladonna.

Again when the doors opened the tense tone of their words floated out, she whispered to Belladonna who looked between Roman and Daisy, confusion evident on her face. He was pretty sure she was telling Daisy she wasn’t going anywhere but Daisy appeared insistent. And she must have convinced her because Belladonna let out a sigh, rolled her shoulders and reluctantly approached her boss.

They talked for a minute and her boss didn’t look very happy, clearly unimpressed by Roman's presence, waved her hand dismissively. But after a minute and some vague gesturing with her hands she conceded and Belladonna strode out of the conference room, back rigid and heels clicking sharply against the tiled floor. Roman watched her approach, noting the tension in her shoulders and the tight set of her jaw. She wasn’t happy by any means, though she was doing her best to conceal it but the irritation was simply radiating off her.

"Ok, Daisy said you needed to talk to me. Make it quick, Roman, I’m kind of in the middle of something." She snapped, her patience wearing thin.

“I can see that,” He wore something of a smug smile and after a silence long enough to start to get on her nerves, he spoke again before she could bite back with something smart. "Daisy was just telling me about your little predicament. It seems you're in need of a new location for your photoshoot, and quickly.”

"Yes," she replied tersely, impatience and exasperation seeping through her words. "But can we please get to the point? My boss is already in a pissy mood and I’m pretty sure I’m next on the chopping block if I don’t get my ass back in there."

"Question?" He said, clearly not bothered by her eagerness to wrap up their conversation.

"Fine, what's your question?" His leisurely questioning was starting to grate on her nerves, and she couldn't help but glance back to her boss, who seemed to be keeping a watchful eye on their conversation.

"Am I a joke to you?" Roman tilted his head looking both disappointed and confused. Sort of reminded her of a puppy with its ears half up and half down trying to suss out a high-pitched sound.

Belladonna stared at him, confused. "What?”

"Use my club,"

Belladonna stared at Roman, her dark eyes wide in surprise. "Use your club?" Momentarily thrown off balance by his unexpected offer.

"Yes," he said, his voice low and smooth. "It's mine to do with as I see fit, it’s empty during the day, and should have more than enough space to accommodate your shoot. You can use the space however you need.” Roman smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. “and you can vouch for its legitimacy since it's up-to-date with all the necessary permits and licenses."

"Would that help?" he asked, a hint of smugness creeping into his voice.

"Yes, it would," Belladonna admittedly a bit lost for words

She hesitated, shifting on her feet. The offer would solve all her problems for the shoot and might even put her in a better spot for work. She’d obviously need to run it by her boss.

As if reading her mind, Roman gestured towards the conference room.

"Go. Run it by your boss." Roman said with a playful flick of his wrist, shooing her away as if she were a mischievous cat lingering too long by the cream. His dark eyes twinkled with amusement at her hesitation, a side of him few got to witness. "Do you need a slap on that gorgeous ass to get you moving?"

Her eyes flashed with something sharp, but she bit back a retort and turned on her heel, striding back toward the conference room before Roman could follow through with what she hoped was only a joke. As she spoke to her boss, he could see the shock register on her boss’s face. She glanced at Roman, then back to Belladonna then back to Roman, who allowed himself a triumphant smile, knowing he was about to be the hero.

Belladonna motioned for Roman to join them, trying not to let her surprise – or her gratitude – show too openly. As he stepped through the door, the room seemed to hold its breath in anticipation. All eyes were on him, but this time, he was not the source of any problems. In fact, he was the solution – a role that felt surprisingly gratifying. With his charming smile and easy manner, he greeted Belladonna's boss.

“Ms. Preston, it’s a pleasure to see you again.” His smooth tone eased the tension in the room as effectively as a tranquilizer.

"Mr. Sionis, this is a pleasant surprise," Laura said, her demeanor considerably improved as she reached out to shake Romans’ outstretched hand.

“Oh, please, Roman is fine.”

"Belladonna here, tells me you're interested in leasing out your club for our shoot." She crossed her arms over her chest, head tilted as though she wasn’t sure she bought it.

Surely there had to be more to it, right?

“Leasing? Oh, not at all. Can’t have a face this gorgeous wearing anything other than a smile.” Roman's gaze drifted to Belladonna before turning back to Laura. "I'm more than willing to assist, by providing my space free of charge," He responded smoothly. "It won't be a problem."

Laura was one of the most assertive people Belladonna knew, never one to be told what to do, never one to let a man swoop in and save the day… Yet, here they were… Either the situation was worse than Belladonna had initially thought and Laura couldn’t afford to lose this client, or her boss too, was drawn in by Romans’ charm, she wouldn’t be the first or the last. Hell, it happened to Belladonna more times than she could count.

Laura eyed Roman skeptically, her expression guarded "So let me get this straight, Mr. Sionis. You're offering us the use of your club; one of the most exclusive night spots in Gotham for our shoot, free of charge?"

Roman nodded, a nonchalant smile playing on his lips. "That's correct, Laura. Consider it my contribution to the arts."

Laura shook her head incredulously. "Well, I'm afraid I can't accept your offer without some form of compensation. Your club is a prime location, and we can't just take advantage of it for free." Laura stood clicking her pen several times as she contemplated her next move. "But, you know, Roman," She began, "I think we could generate some fantastic publicity for your club through the shoot. If you’re unwilling to accept monetary compensation, maybe some good publicity in the fashion industry might suffice."

"Oh? How so?"

A smirk played on his lips as if he didn’t understand what Laura was proposing, he knew damn well. But he was at least smart enough to know that he had to let her feel like she had a say in this whole thing.

"Well, I have it on good authority that the designer behind the collection is a huge fan of your club. Since your club would be the backdrop it seems wholly inappropriate if we don’t see the man of the hour. And I happen to know for a fact that the designer has a fantastic piece that only a man like yourself could do justice to.” Roman's ego swelled at the thought of being part of a fashion shoot. “It would be great exposure for both the club and the collection."

"I like the sound of that," he replied, nodding thoughtfully. "But one condition."

Laura raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "And what's that?"

"Belladonna does the shoot," Roman declared, his gaze drifting to where Belladonna stood, sorting through fabric samples. "She's got the skill, the eye. She'll be perfect."

Belladonna's eyes widened in surprise at the sudden turn of events. She opened her mouth to object, but before she could speak, Laura cut in.

"I think that's a fantastic idea," Laura said, flashing a quick smile at Belladonna. "It would add a personal touch to the campaign. We all know Belladonna has quite the eye for male beauty,"

Belladonna hesitated for a moment, then nodded, reluctantly agreeing. She knew she didn't have much choice in the matter.

"Great," Roman said, extending his hand. "It's settled then."

"On behalf of the entire team, thank you, Roman. And I look forward to the proofs,” She turned to Belladonna, “Don’t let me down, Belladonna. This goes well and I think you’ll have earned that bonus we talked about.”

“You got it, Laura,” She replied coolly.

“Alright, then let’s go make the client happy, I'll let him know about the change of venue, I’m sure he’ll be thrilled.” Roman offered her a card from his jacket pocket.

Roman extended his hand, sealing the agreement with a firm handshake. "My pleasure, Laura. I hope you’ll find time to stop by, and if your client has any questions, don't hesitate to give them my card. I'm always happy to accommodate."

As the bubble of stress burst open like a fragile balloon, the aquarium fish seemed to have taken a cue swimming away. Daisy wrapped Roman in a hug that could rival the strength of an ant and crowned him a lifesaver, before following the other fish out of the conference room. Belladonna collapsed onto the table, hands rubbing her temples in relief… or maybe just exhaustion at the fact that it was only noon. Roman playfully nudged her with his foot,

“Look at me on my white horse, saving the day!” He mused so proudly, “Seems it got you a bit of cred with your boss, didn’t it? And what was that, something about a bonus too?”

“And now I have an entire shoot to direct.” She replied with a tired smirk and a nod. “And yeah, she’s been dangling that bonus since the beginning of the year.”

He shrugged, prowling closer, caging her in with his arms as he braced them on the table behind her. The scent of his cologne enveloped her, dark and sensual.

“I’m sure you’ll manage just fine.” He paused, “You’re welcome by the way.”

She tilted her head at his playful remark, giving his belt a tug, pulling him into a kiss. Her lips brushed his several times, by now they were both used to the stares and quick little instances of phones being pulled out during his lunchtime visits.

“Thank you.”

“You know angel, I have to say, I think these conference room meetings are starting to grow on me, I’m finding them very stimulating…”

“Keep it in your pants, Sionis, mama’s working.” His eyebrows shot up at that one, and his chest inhaled a deep controlling breath.

“Easy kitten, don’t forget who holds the cards here.”

“Let's see them.” Her mood had considerably improved but Roman found that was usually the case after he kissed her, “Full house beats a flush.”

Roman shook his head, a half-smile playing on his lips as he held out her coffee. Today, it was different - her usual rose-infused mocha, but iced. The cool container melted against her skin as she took it from him, the condensation leaving small droplets on her fingertips.

"The girl at the shop insisted you try it iced with the warming weather," Roman explained, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

"And you actually took her suggestion? Shocking," She replied, taking a whiff of the sweet aroma before taking a tentative sip.

"Jokes on her, if you don't like it I'm burning that little cafe to the ground..." Despite his playful threat, she could tell Roman was only half serious. But the drink was surprisingly delicious, and she couldn't help but wear a pleasantly surprised expression as she took another sip.

“Good?” He asked with a smug look, she held the drink out to him but he shook his head, so she took another sip and leaned forward to give him a kiss, slipping her tongue past his lips for a rose-infused mocha-flavored kiss. He seemed a little more interested in tasting the coffee now.

"And so the little coffee shop that could, lives another day... Have you eaten?" His concern might have been slightly pandering but it was still kind of cute.

Roman looked hard at her searching for any signs of deceit, Belladonna seemed very unamused at now having two people inquiring as to her dietary needs. “Been too busy.”

Roman reached into the small brown bag that had gone unnoticed until now, revealing a box of french macarons that were almost too beautiful to devour. After careful consideration, he chose a bright pink one adorned with delicate swirls and a sprinkle of glitter. The aroma of rich chocolate mousse wafted through the air as he playfully commanded:

"Open up."

Belladonna licked her lips in anticipation before parting them to accept the treat. She nipped at his fingers, savoring the velvety texture of the macaron and the warmth of his skin against her lips. As she chewed, Roman chuckled and shook his head.

"What am I going to do with you, kitten? Tie you down and force you to eat?" Belladonna shrugged nonchalantly, enjoying the banter between them as well as how Romans eyes did that thing again; where they flared up and there was a little surge of something dark trying to get out.

“Don’t tempt me with a good time.”

At that moment, she wanted nothing more than to drag him into the nearest closet.

Professionalism be damned.

“Kitten, don’t test daddy’s patience…” He warned her with a growl, his voice low and dangerous.

Belladonna wasn’t quite sure what came over her but she couldn’t stop the words that slipped past her lips.

“I’m sorry, daddy.”

He jerked her forward into a hard kiss, and she was pretty sure she could feel that last little strand of his self-control pulled taut ready to snap as his tongue delved into her mouth and his hands slipped over her ass, lifting her onto the table. Standing between her legs, he pressed himself against her, feeling the heat of their bodies meld together. A guttural groan escaped his lips as she wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers tickling the nape of his neck.

Oh, this naughty little kitten of his…

“You like to tease me, don’t you, Kitten?” His voice was gravelly and strained in between kisses, panting heavily before finally breaking away just long enough to speak a few words.

“I’m about five seconds from dragging you into an empty office and bending that sweet ass over a desk, Belladonna, and I don’t care who hears." He kissed her again, harder this time, “You wanna play like that? Call me daddy?” He grinned a wolfish lear against her lips, “I’ll make you fucking scream it.”

A knock at the glass window pulled them both from the edge of the abyss they were standing on, looking over to the windows, Zsasz stood with his back to them, he had knocked on the glass, and several people in passing were hurrying away. No doubt they must have snapped a few pictures that would be splashed over the tabloids and gossip rags tomorrow, hell, maybe even today, it was still early.

“Kitten,” His deep voice rumbled through the air, causing her heart to skip a beat. He paused and straightened his perfectly-tailored jacket, his piercing blue eyes scanning the room before landing on her.

“One of these days I’m not gonna care how many people are around, and if you get fired, I’ll just get you another job somewhere else.”

“My office is down the hall.” She tried to maintain a professional demeanor but felt her cheeks flush under his intense gaze.

“Temping as that is, Angel,” He used her nickname with a hint of amusement in his voice, “I did come for more than just your afternoon coffee and to check to make sure you’ve eaten.”

“Has something happened with the cops?” Her curiosity was piqued by his serious tone.

“No,” His expression turned grave, “Does the name Maria Lopez mean anything to you?”

She furrowed her brow, trying to recall any information about the name. After a minute of concentration, she shook her head.

“No,” she answered honestly.

“No one? Not a teacher, a maid, a friend, nobody?”

“No, I didn’t get along with most of my teachers. Our maids were mostly Italian or Greek, and after what happened with Olivia, I didn’t have many friends. Plus, my father wouldn’t allow anyone with even a hint of Hispanic heritage near me,”

Roman looked confused by this revelation.

“His best friend was Spanish,” she continued, “They had some kind of falling out between their families a long time ago. My father saw anyone with Hispanic blood as someone not to be trusted.” Roman nodded in understanding; he knew the type of person her father was. “Why do you ask?”

Roman hesitated before offering up what he knew, “If I tell you this, you do nothing. Do you understand me?”

His voice took on that hard quality again, the one that readied her fight or flight instinct, he was serious. She nodded slowly, but he looked expectantly.

"Okay, I promise. What's going on? Who is Maria Lopez?" She asked.

He lowered his voice, “I think that’s the alias your mother has been using.”

Her jaw dropped. “You found her?”

He shook his head. "Not yet. I'm still verifying some things, but I needed to know if that name meant anything to you."

"If it's an alias my father chose for her, I never would've known to look for it." Understanding dawned on Roman's face as he nodded. "Where is she?" She demanded, feeling a surge of hope mixed with fear.

"I can't say for sure," He admitted.

“I don’t believe you.” His eyes sharpened. "You wouldn't ask me something like this if you didn't have reason to believe she was out there."

He was amused by her straight talk and she was right, fact was he had a lot more than he let on.

“Maybe I do have something. But,” She visibly deflated, “Nothing happens until I can verify what I’m looking at.” He seized her chin, “You do nothing. You don’t even so much as Google that name, do you hear me, Belladonna Black?”

She hadn’t been called by her full name in years and the way Roman said it… Well, it had her wondering if she could change his mind about the whole office rendezvous.

“You’re really gonna find her?” He was trying to be serious and maybe a bit intimidating but she didn’t see it, she saw him assembling pieces to a puzzle she hadn’t even been able to find pieces to in four years.

“I said I would. Anyone jumping the gun could result in more blood spilled. Do you remember what we talked about the other night after Stan left?” She nodded and gave a feint, ‘Yeah’ It was easy in the span of an evening with Thai takeout and sleeping in the safety of his cozy bed to forget just how real the game they were playing was.

“Do you understand me?”

“Yes.” She took hold of his hand that gripped her chin and kissed it.

“Alright. You’re going to finish out your day and I’m picking you up at eight, not a moment later. Any other work you have to do will have to be done remotely, understand me?”

“You kidding, I’m a hero by association today, it won’t be hard to leave by eight.”

“Be ready.” She nodded, “Now, I need to be going, Angel. I have some errands to run and before you ask; don’t.”

Roman pulled her in for one more kiss, his hands settling on her hips, maybe a little lower than might have been appropriate for a goodbye kiss but she didn’t seem to mind. It was slow and leisurely, a gentle exploration of her mouth and she could feel the warmth of his wet tongue teasing the seam of her lips. With a satisfied 'Mmm' and a heavy restrained sigh, Roman pulled back, leaving her wanting more. But before she could protest, in Roman fashion he kissed the palm of her hand, his lips lingering for a moment before he left the box of macarons on the conference table, a gesture of sweetness in contrast to his confident and seductive demeanor.

“Eat up kitten, but not too much. We’re going out tonight.”

The hands of the clock on the wall had inched closer to six pm, casting long shadows across the nearly deserted office. Belladonna, now left to her own devices after sending Daisy home with Lloyd, focused intently on her task at hand: finalizing preparations for tomorrow's shoot. The responsibility of running it all loomed over her, a weight she now bore thanks to Roman's influence.

Belladonna adjusted her glasses and diligently worked through the shot list, making necessary adjustments and confirming equipment availability. She double-checked every detail, ensuring that everything would be in working order for the big day. Somehow knowing Roman would be there not only watching but participating made her a bit anxious.

Her gaze momentarily drifted to the corner of her desk where the mostly empty box of macarons caught her eye. A small smile played on her lips as she recalled Roman's 'doting boyfriend' act earlier that day. She reached for the box, taking out the last one; a chocolate and pistachio macaron, and lifted it to her nose, inhaling its sweet aroma.

She’d never say it outloud but the Roman made one hell of a fake boyfriend when he tried, almost fooled her, before taking a satisfying bite.

As she chewed, her mind wandered back to Roman—his enigmatic presence and the powerful connections he held. She was putting a lot of trust in him, the feminist in her didn’t like how dependant on him she was and she felt a pang of unease. But at this point Roman had had multipl opportunities to either cut her loose or let her die and each time he did neither.

The clock continued to tick away, marking the passage of time as she worked tirelessly to ensure tomorrow's shoot would go off without a hitch. And all the while, Roman Sionis' presence continued to linger in the back of her mind.

She redirected her attention to the list of garments for tomorrow's shoot, pulling out the photo of the piece Roman would be modeling, an intricately detailed, dark and alluring outfit that seemed to perfectly match his enigmatic persona.

"Damn, he is going to look incredible in this," Belladonna whispered under her breath, feeling a sudden surge of excitement at the prospect of capturing him on camera.

The past week had been a whirlwind, and despite the chaos and danger, but oddly enough she felt perfectly safe. And the notion of Roman being close by while she worked, working in his club was oddly comforting.

She still knew practically nothing about him, and their entire relationship seemed to be built on a foundation of dependency and manipulation.

Slumping into her chair she stared at the open search engine on her laptop thinking back to the last time she Googled him and how she didn't find much. At the time it had been disheartening but now she had more information on him, especially after her conversation with Cobblepot. She has a better idea of what to look for. She decided to try again, beginning her search at Gotham Preparatory School for Boys.

As she browsed through the website, with some quick math she found the graduating classes section and quickly calculated which year Roman would have graduated. Once she located his year, her eyes were immediately drawn to his graduation picture – stone-faced, serious, and undeniably gorgeous.

She studied the class photo, she noticed the space that people seemed to give Roman, as though he was a shark among a school of fish. It only confirmed Cobblepot's description of him – magnetic yet unnerving. People were afraid of him even at only eighteen.

"Roman Sionis, man of mystery…”

Roman wasn’t Valedictorian and hadn't received any special awards or honors. However, his grades must have been decent enough for him to participate in extracurricular activities, and he was a busy boy. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise as she read the list – debate team, high-ranking chess competitor, social clubs, polo, squash, fencing, boxing, equestrianism, and swimming.

None of those sounded like Roman but given the prestigious nature of the school, she suspected his parents likely had something to do with Roman’s busy schedule; something she could relate to. The thing that surprised her the most was the chess thing, she didn’t see Roman as having the patience for that sort of thing but by all accounts, he was very good.

"Of course, they'd want their son involved in everything," she mused, thinking of how similar Roman's upbringing seemed to her own.

Though she knew she should focus on the upcoming photo shoot, the enigma of Roman Sionis proved too enticing to resist.

She clicked further into the archives next, finding a treasure trove of photos featuring Roman in his school uniform. The crisp white shirt and sharp black blazer and his immaculately styled hair seemed to be precursors to his current love for suits. Even as a teenager, he exuded an air of confidence and danger that was undeniably attractive. His stern expression, reminiscent of a young James Dean or Clint Eastwood, gave him a "resting bastard face" that somehow only served to heighten his appeal.

"Damn," she whispered to herself, unable to look away from the smoldering intensity in his eyes. Many of his photos possessed the quality to them that his eyes seemed to follow you wherever you went.

There was an alumni section dedicated to post-high school achievements like colleges, civic honors, and prominent family legacies where Roman was mentioned as a successful club owner, nothing more. There was no mention of any continuing connection with the school, but it did lead her to a page dedicated to significant contributors – including Roman's father, Richard Sionis.

Richard's gray hair betrayed his age, though there was still a strong resemblance between him and his son. Unlike Roman, Richard wore a smile in his pictures – but it appeared rehearsed and artificial, reminding Belladonna of the way her own father would grin for the cameras. It was clear that Roman had inherited his father's good looks, but there was something more genuine in his features, less tired and fake than the elder Sionis.

Belladonna continued to read about Richard's long-standing support of the school, noting his service on the board of trustees and involvement in numerous fundraisers. It seemed that the Sionis family had a history of influence and power, making her wonder what role Roman's upbringing played in shaping the man he had become.

Who was Roman Sionis before he became Roman Sionis?

She stared at the screen, not ready to pack it in just yet.

She didn’t know if he went to college or where to look and she really had no idea what happened to him after he graduated, only that at some point his family had severed all ties with him and Roman had begun a criminal life. He had mentioned he’d done time in Blackgate, but she wasn’t sure of the reason. The criminal stuff didn’t bother her at this point, she mostly wanted to know about his family drama. Because personal family drama was irritating, someone else’s family drama was entertainment.

"Alright then," She muttered under her breath, typing in the keywords ‘Roman Sionis’ and ‘Blackgate’ then hitting enter.

Over a dozen arrest records appeared on the screen, and Belladonna felt her heart tighten in her chest. Most of the records showed Roman posting bail up until he was twenty-one, but then the pattern changed. The bail postings stopped, and he started doing more time in jail. She suspected this may have been when his parents severed ties with him, but she couldn't find anything concrete to prove it.

Not surprising, a family like his was likely to have as many skeletons in their closets as hers did and like hers; they stayed locked up tight away from prying eyes.

She clicked on the last arrest record, dating back to when Roman was twenty-three. Her stomach churned as the mugshot revealed several injuries to his face – a black and slightly swelling eye, bloodied cheeks, and a split lip. He looked like he had been beaten very badly, yet his smug expression remained intact, as if daring the world to knock him down further.

"God, Roman..."

Despite his injuries, there was something about his defiant gaze that made her feel a flicker of admiration. It was clear that Roman refused to be broken, even when the odds were against him. She could practically hear him boasting ‘You should see the other guy.’

Aggravated assault, property damage, trespassing, criminal menacing, assault with a deadly weapon, possession of illegal weapons, resisting arrest, and battery – it was an extensive rap sheet that painted a portrait of a man prone to violence and chaos.

"Roman, you really don't make things easy, do you?" Belladonna muttered under her breath, feeling a strange mix of concern and fascination.

As she researched further into the dates of his arrests, Belladonna stumbled upon the court case where Roman was tried for these numerous charges. Limited to a mid-tier lawyer, she expected him to suffer the consequences of his actions, yet one by one, he managed to beat most of the charges. It seemed as though evidence had conveniently disappeared or witnesses had mysteriously chosen not to step forward.

"Interesting," She mused, intrigued by the power Roman appeared to wield even in his darkest moments. "How did you manage all of this?"

Her search eventually led her to the final charge that stuck: tax evasion. The out-of-place accusation left her puzzled, as it seemed far removed from the violent nature of the other crimes.

"Tax evasion? That's what they got you on, Roman?" Belladonna shook her head, disbelief etched across her face. Frustration gnawed at her as she tried to find more information on the bizarre charge but came up empty-handed. “Well, the permits make a little more sense now…”

The courtroom photos were grainy, like a lower quality paparazzi shot. His expression was one of pure disgust and irritation as he stood before the judge, his dark eyes blazing with barely restrained fury. The gavel came down, sealing his fate: three years in Blackgate Penitentiary.

She couldn't find anything on Roman's prison stint without hiring a private investigator or formally requesting court documents and that required the Freedom of Information Act which was time consuming and could be expensive and it wasn’t exactly subtle. And for some reason, she didn't want Roman to know she was digging into his past.

Her eyes narrowed as she typed in a new search query – this time focusing on Roman's initial arrest that had landed him in Blackgate Penitentiary. As she skimmed the articles, she discovered it was tied to an assault case against a local criminal named Tony Zucco.

"Tony Zucco?"

A feeling of déjà vu washed over her. She knew the name sounded familiar but couldn't quite place it. Frustrated, she opened a new tab and quickly Googled the man.

As the search results loaded, Belladonna found herself staring at a squeaky clean image of Tony Zucco – a self-made man from Old Gotham with a very old school mafia gangster look to him. He looked like the type of man her father surrounded himself with.

The more she searched, the less information she seemed to find about the altercation between Roman and Tony. It was as if their conflict had been purposefully scrubbed from the internet. However, one detail remained consistent throughout the scarce information available – Roman had lost the fight, but not without causing some serious damage.

"Damn," Belladonna breathed out.

What did Tony Zucco do to earn Roman’s wrath? What could have possibly ignited such a violent confrontation between the two? Her instincts told her it wasn’t exactly a fight over a seat at the bar.

The case was open and shut. As far as she could tell, he’d done his three years and he was released on the date, not a day more or less. There were a few pictures from paparazzi’s of Roman after his release and he looked harder, features darker and sharper, grittier. But she couldn’t imagine that three years of prison was easy on a man like Roman who had known luxury his whole life.

Gotham was almost pretty at sunset, if you didn’t think about all the scum that came out at night, the fading sunlight doused the area in hues of orange and gold. Roman lounged against the hood of his sleek black Maserati, scrolling through his tablet. A smirk played on his lips as if he were watching a thrilling episode of his favorite show, waiting to see what would unfold next.

Zsasz, Roman's loyal assistant, stood beside him, taking a drag from a cigarette and exhaling a cloud of smoke into the air. For once not wearing his jacket in a departure of his professional look, he wore a shoulder holster but it didn’t hold a gun. No, where a small firearm usually sat tucked against a mans side instead was the scabbard of a very large knife. Scars on his arms on full display since no one was around to be scared by them, besides when it came to nightfall in Gotham, the scarier you looked, the less likely people were to fuck with you and there weren’t many men who looked scarier than Zsasz.

"Tell me she's asking better questions this time," Zsasz asked in a monotone voice with a hint of reservation.

“She started with my old prep school this time." Roman said, his eyes never leaving the tablet. "Nobody ever thinks keyloggers are useful until they are,"

“I prefer a more hands on approach.”

Roman chuckled, nodding in agreement. "You think she’ll find my list of extracurriculars impressive?"

“Hell no. Squash is dumb, and polo is for spoiled rich pussies," Zsasz countered, blowing out another puff of smoke. Zsasz scoffed.

A bark of laughter escaped Roman. "You do remember I played Polo, right?." Zsasz shot him a sideways glance, the hint of a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “

Zsasz's lips quirked. "Wasn't calling you a pussy."

"Damn right I’m not."

Roman's attention returned to the tablet, watching in real time as Belladonna uncovered more and more of his sordid past. Part of him relished the thought of her reaction. The rest rankled at her audacity to dig into his business but he had done just that too her so he couldn’t blame her much. Still, pretty stupid to think she could dig into him and he not know. He knew about her previous day of Googling after his little adventure at the docks with Cobblepots men and he’s watched as she searched up his old school.

He had to give it to her, she’d gone right back to work after he’d left and he was pleased to see that she didn’t Google the name Maria Lopez, just as she’s promised not to. Nope. But she did take a second shot at Googling him. Her first attempt at digging into Romans past hadn’t yielded much, turns out when you write in the name ‘Roman Sionis’ into Google it’s mostly just papparazzi pictures and a few articles on his club. Roman had paid good money to make sure those articles on his arrest and his younger years were at least seven pages back in the search results. You couldn’t erase a criminal past but you could make it harder to find.

He admired Belladonna's tenacity. She was resourceful, stubborn, and unafraid to dig into his past. Those traits only served to make her more attractive to him.

"Let's see what else she has up her sleeve," Roman murmured, his finger swiping across the tablet screen.

A wicked grin spreading across his face as he noticed Belladonna had uncovered his criminal record.

"Ah, there it is. She's finally found my rap sheet," He said, his voice low and amused.

"Should've been her first step," Zsasz commented, looking over Roman's shoulder at the screen.

"Oh come on now, give the kid a break. She's new at this."

"True," Zsasz chuckled, leaning back against the car hood. "I’ll give her this, she’s has handled everything so far like an old-school mafia woman. Haven’t seen tears from her once."

“Thank God for that, I can’t stand seeing women cry.” Roman agreed, his admiration for Belladonna growing with each passing moment "Indeed, she's been a champ,"

Flicking through the rest of the information she'd gathered, he spotted something that caught his attention.

"Look here, she's found Tony Zucco's name."

"Tony Zucco?" Zsasz mused, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. "She won't find much. He's been out of the game since you shut him down.”

"Ah, yes. Good ol' Tony," Roman sighed nostalgically, a distant look in his eyes as if recalling a fond memory. "Brings back memories, doesn't it?"

Not the least of which was the scar on his shoulder,courtsey of Zsasz's loyalty. Roman met his gaze.

"Good shot, by the way. The ladies seem to like the scars."

Zsasz's lips quirked again. "Following orders.” Zsasz reminded him with a sly grin as he flicked the ashes off his cigarette. “What else has she dug up?"

Roman scrolled through the contents of the laptop. "She found the shooting at the club." His mouth twisted. "Hard to believe that lazy bastard was in business for so long, Tony never seemed to understand the value of paying your people what they’re worth..."

Zsasz chimed in. "You had a better employee retention program."

"I did at that." Roman said smugly. They both chuckled, enjoying the memory that many would probably find deeply suspicious or deeply unsettling.

"Yeah, poor Tony never saw it coming. Shame you didn't kill him," Zsasz said casually. "Could've gotten the club for cheap if there had been a death on the property."

"True," Roman mused, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction at the thought. “A little restraint goes a long way Zsasz…”

His laugh died and Roman's eyes narrowed to slits as he zoomed in on an article that Belladonna was currently browsing. It was a piece the Gotham Times had published shortly after the shooting—one he'd somehow overlooked until now. The street lights flickered above, casting eerie shadows across his face as he scrutinized the text.

"Zsasz," Roman said, his voice low and dangerous. "Take a look at this and tell me what you see."

Zsasz took the tablet from Roman, his pale eyes scanning the screen with a growing sense of unease. He glanced back at Roman, his voice tense with anticipation. "Two very irritating names.”

"This makes it two times now," Roman muttered, a note of irritation lacing his voice.

"Two?"

"First, we miss Belladonna's hypoglycemia diagnosis," Roman said, tossing the tablet aside where it landed with a soft thud on the leather couch. “Now this.”

"Ah," Zsasz nodded slowly, his lips twitching into an almost-smile. "A determined woman does better research than the FBI. Maybe you should take Belladonna out for a nice dinner, thank her properly for her detective skills."

Roman's expression softened at the mention of dinner. The thought of her resourcefulness brought a rare sense of warmth to his chest.

"Dinner?" he echoed, considering the idea. His hand instinctively reached up to adjust the cuff of his immaculately tailored suit.

Roman considered it.

"Taking a half-Italian woman to an Italian restaurant... is that too cliché?" Roman inquired, the corner of his mouth quirked upwards in a semblance of amusement.

"Boss," Zsasz replied with a deadpan delivery, "clichés are clichés for a reason. But if you want something different, I know a place. Turkish."

"That little hole in the wall joint in the Bowery?" Roman's tone shifted with intrigue.

Zsasz gave a single nod. "That's the one."

"Karnıyarık," Roman mused aloud, a hint of hunger creeping into his voice as he remembered the savor of well-spiced eggplant and minced meat. "That does sound good."

"And don't get me started on the büyükanne's baklava." Zsasz's eyes gleamed with a rare spark of enthusiasm. "Better than any of those fancy restaurants, hands down."

Dinner was a good next step but there was a new loose end to tie up. Roman's amusement faded as he glared at the article again, picking out the names that had drawn his ire—Ramirez and Craven. The detectives first on scene after he'd been shot.

Roman sneered at the article, muttering under his breath, "So that's why you've got it out for me..."

His mind raced with thoughts of revenge and calculated moves, feeling the weight of their names pressing down on him.

"This changes things," Roman said, the gears turning in his head. He looked at Zsasz with a new sense of urgency.

"What do you want to do about it?" Zsasz asked calmly.

"Call up the lawyers and our inside man. I want everything on Ramirez and Craven by Monday."

"Got it, boss," Zsasz replied, nodding in agreement. His fingers were already reaching for his phone, ready to make contact and set things into motion. “You wanna wait on Metropolis? Left that doctor in pretty rough shape, he might talk, might not.”

“No, I think we’ve properly motivated the good doctor to keep his mouth shut. But let’s not take any chances, keep our travel plans as scheduled. And look into that other thing, I want that sorted by the time we leave, make sure she has everything she needs.”

"Now what?" he asked, curious about Roman's next move.

Roman's mind buzzed with plans and contingencies, the dark machinery of his intellect churning relentlessly. Craven and Ramirez had been the proverbial annoying thorn in his side since this whole damn thing started. He’d have figured out exactly what their beef with him was sooner or later but thanks to his little detective, it was sooner and he’d have to make sure he thanked her properly, wouldn’t he?

But he’d also have to tell her he’d been spying on her at work as well as her home, which really shouldn’t surprise her at this point. Well, she’d get over it.

The neon glow of the city reflected in Roman's dark eyes as he glanced at his watch, the ticking seconds a reminder that time was always moving.

"Time to go pick up my angel from work."

He pocketed the tablet and slid off the hood of the Maserati with predatory grace. Zsasz looked up from his phone call, nodding in understanding. Neither spoke of the growing reality, which was that Belladonna was quickly becoming a more central influence in Romans life, which made her dangerous.

Her beauty and courage had captivated him from their first meeting, and he found himself craving her presence more and more each day.

"Boss, everything's set," Zsasz said, interrupting Roman's thoughts as he hung up the phone. "Our guys will get us what we need."

"Good," Roman replied, his voice low and intense. "We'll find out exactly what those bastards are playing at, and put an end to it. But for now… let's focus on something far more pleasant." He smirked, enjoying the idea of spending time with Belladonna, even if only for a brief reprieve from the darkness that consumed his world. “I’m hungry.”

When faced with virtually no information about Tony Zucco aside from his sterling reputation within the community and the many mentionings of his hand in local businesses, Bealladonna’s bullshit detector started going off. Jaded or not, a wise man once said if something seemed too good to be true then it was.

When one word didn’t work, she opted to cross reference the name of Tony Zucco with Roman Sionis and then she found it.

The words "shooting" and "Masquerade Noir" had caught her attention, and as she read, she began to piece together a story that had unfolded just months after Roman's release from prison.

The article detailed an incendent that had unfolded at the location that would later become Roman’s club, he had been looking at the building with a leasing agent when Tony Zucco and his men showed up.

The statement of the leasing agent told of how Roman instructed her to flee and call the police and when she ran Tony’s men persued her. She imagined Roman's tall, dark frame acting as a barrier between the fleeing woman and Zucco's thugs. Roman then inteviened and tackled one fo the men by throwing punches but was qickly overwhelmed when he second man attacked Roman from behind. The witness report stated she saw Roman taking a severe beating on his knees before she went for help.

Roman out-numbered two to one, those seemed like his kind of odds. The image of his strong, muscular body entangled in a vicious fight made her shiver with both fear and admiration. It was compelling but something about it just wasn’t right. Where was Zsasz? She hadn’t bothered to look up anything about Zsasz, that one she had been a little afraid to look into.

The article continued stating by the time the police had arraived the two men were dead from gunshot wounds, Tony Zucco was shot in the chest but still alive and Roman was shot in the shoulder. She could almost hear the gunshots echoing through the empty building as Roman and Zucco traded fire.

Her breath caught in her throat as she envisioned Roman wounded and bleeding. She thought back to earlier that morning when she’d caught sight of him with that towel draped around his waist. She’d seen a few scars, one in particular on his shoulder, it had looked like a bullet but she couldn't tell from where she was.

As she absorbed the information, she could almost see the scene play out in her mind: Roman, bloodied but unbowed, bringing down the older man before collapsing into unconsciousness. It wasn't long after this brutal exchange that the police arrived, taking both men to Gotham General Hospital for treatment.

"Both men were treated and held in medical hold with armed police officers until they cold be taken to the GCPD." She read further.

While there was push from Zucco’s attourney to have Roman thrown back into Blackgate for the shooting and there was a potential civil lawsuit against him, the judge had ruled that Roman was out numbered, out gunned and he acted in reasonable self defense.

"Tony Zucco was sentenced to ten years for conspiracy to commit murder, assault with a deadly weapon, criminal conspiracy, and criminal solicitation. "

It had been, as far as she could tell, a slam dunk case mostly thanks to the severity of Romans injuries and the leasing agent who had witnessed the whole ordeal. She had stepped forward offering testimony, ultimately clearing Roman Sionis of any wrongdoing.

She moved from one article to another that talked about Tony Zucco’s release several years ago and he hadn’t been mentioned that much since, choosing to keep a quiet profile until almost all mention of him stopped. And a price reduction of several hundred thousand dollars had left the building vacant, which Roman swooped in to purchase it months later.

"Masquerade Noir opens its doors... quickly becoming Gotham's hottest night spot," She read aloud, her voice tinged with disbelief. The club had been born from violence, yet now thrived with people fighting to get in.

"Roman Sionis: Behind the Mystery" – another article title caught her eye, and she clicked on it eagerly. Scrolling through the text, she absorbed every detail there were interviews with staff, patrons, all speaking very highly of Roman as an employer who ran an immaculate ship. Didn’t tolerate any shady activity and overall, all who set foot inside his doors reported they loved the experience and felt safe and eager to return even if a martini cost almost twenty five dollars.

"From violence to prospering into an icon of the city; one thing is certain – he has built an empire from nothing, and many are drawn to the allure of his power and charm."

The sudden buzz of the intercom jolted Belladonna from her thoughts, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Miss Black, Mr. Sionis is in the lobby to pick you up," The security guards voice came through the speaker.

"Thank you, tell him I’ll be right down." She managed to reply, quickly shutting down her laptop and packing her bag.

As she stepped out of her office and made her way to the lobby, she considered what she might say to him, or even if she’d say anything at all. He’d never forbade her from looking into his past, never warned her not to go digging and what kind of idiot would she be if she didn’t at least do some light Googling into a man that she was growing more intimately connected with? Hell, she was all but sleeping with him at this point, she was living with him.

Her steps slowed as she entered the elevator and waited for it to carry her to the first floor. He did, however, tell her to ask fewer questions or learn to look the other way.

"Angel,"

Roman's deep voice called as he saw her, his eyes alight with a mix of desire and possessiveness and he wore a smile that could charm the devil himself. He crossed the distance between them in a few swift strides, pulling her into an unusually passionate kiss that caught her off guard. There was no one here aside from the security guard who wasn’t even watching, why the show? Something put him in a good mood.

"Hi.” She said a little breathlessly.

He ushered her toward his black Maserati parked outside, his hand resting possessively on the small of her back. "Hungry?"

"Actually, yeah." She replied, her previous queries now pushed to the back burner after that kiss and the prospect of dinner. She wondered what he had in mind but before she could ask he answered that with a question of his own.

"Ever had Turkish?" Roman asked, his dark eyes glinting with amusement.

She wasn’t sure what it was but something had put him in a very good mood, it was hard to find any hint of those little tendrils of darkness that usually clung to him. It was then that she registered his question and her lips curled in distaste, the memory of her father's rants about 'those damned Turks' still fresh even after all these years.

"No, of course not." She said it with an almost laugh, as if it was the dumbest question she’d been asked.

Roman's gaze sharpened, and she could almost hear the unspoken reprimand. “Excuse me?’ Who's never had Turkish in this cultural melting pot of a city? It’s almost offensive.”

“Sorry?” She shrugged. "Did you forget I'm half Greek and my father is something of a xenophobe?" She replied, unable to keep the slightly defensive note from her voice.

"What's that got to do with food?" He asked perplexed as the car pulled away from the curb.

Belladonna bit her lip. Did Roman really need her to explain her father's deep seeded, outdated, cultural hatred? She thought it was pretty self explanatory. On the other hand it was just as plausible for Roman to harbor no real hate for anyone unless they crossed him in which case that was most certainly a ‘case by case’ basis. He also seemed like an ‘I hate everybody equally’ type of man. He was a total social butterfly, floating between different groups without a care in the world. Old grudges and racial tensions didn't seem to faze him at all, personal grudges? Well, that was likely different.

"Turkish food," She finally said. "Greece and Turkey have been enemies for centuries,” She managed. "Ever since the Ottoman Empire conquered Constantinople in 1453, there's been bad blood between the nations. Even now they're still not exactly friends-"

"Despite both being NATO allies..." Roman interjected, one dark brow arched knowingly.

His mention of something so political surprised her, Roman was smart but she didn’t really think of him as ‘politics smart.’ She had never thought of him as someone who paid attention to politics, let alone casually mention it. But in a way, it did make a certain kind of sense, the politics of crime.

"Just because someone is an ally, doesn't make them friends."

She froze, hearing the echo of their own intricate affiliation in those words. The playful atmosphere evaporated, replaced by an awkward tension.

Without warning, Roman's hand reached out to cup her chin and he silenced any concerns she had with a deep, passionate kiss. His lips moved slowly over hers, lulling her into a relaxed state, slow, smoldering, possessive and hungry. When he pulled away, she was left breathless, her mind pleasantly unfocused.

"Trust me, you're gonna love it," He purred, low and seductive, his thumb stroking over her lower lip.

He didn't acknowledge her earlier words or the uneasy parallel she had drawn between them. If her comment bothered him, he didn't let it show.

“Was your father that much of a bigot to keep you from trying some of the most delicious food known to man?” Roman's disbelief was evident in his tone, and it surprised her. She had never thought of him as a foodie but he seemed all riled up over it.

“Roman, what do you think?” She asked dryly.

"Come on," he said. "Time you tried some Turkish delight."

“That jello thing that little prick Edmund liked from the Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe?”

Roman rolled his eyes, and scoffed. “You know classic children's fantasy literature but you’ve never had Turkish?”

“You mean, ‘I know classic Christian biblical propaganda?’ Then yes, I do. I went to an all girls Catholic school, remember?”

A sly smile crossed Roman's face. “Oh, Angel, trust me. That’s a detail I’ve never forgotten.”

Just an hour ago she’d read through as much of Romans criminal history as she could find, she was still no closer to discovering what it was that happened between his family and him. She didn’t for one second buy the fact that he’d done three years for tax evasion or that there was no validity to any of the other charges against him.

He did it. She was sure.

And she knew for a fact that the shooting that took place in his club couldn’t have been as simple as the article had made it out to be.

Roman protecting a curiously present leasing agent when someone he had a sketchy past with had just happen to show up? Not for a second.

She couldn't explain it, but somehow Roman had found a way to get away with murder and attempted murder. And now, he was doing it again with Jimmy. Even more unsettling, she was helping him - at times, even enjoying it. She could hardly believe how comfortable she had become in his presence, especially since learning to read him better. As they drove through the streets of Gotham, for what was sounding more and more like a real date, Roman wore something that hovered between a smile and a smirk. His hand rested possessively on her thigh, thumb gently grazing her leg through the fabric of her jeans. Electric sparks shooting between their bodies like lightning bolts. She couldn't deny the thrill she felt being by his side, despite the danger and moral ambiguity of their actions together.

Roman was a man of many qualities, but at the forefront of it all was his ability to survive. She couldn't imagine how much blood he must have shed to get to where he was. Despite knowing he was dangerous and having witnessed his quick fire temper firsthand, and even being mildly on the receiving end a few times. She was drawn to him.

Everything about this man should have sent her running and screaming.

But it didn’t.

First he’d spared her life, then he’d saved her life more than once, called down an armed assault when she’d been in danger and nearly declared war with another criminal over her. Yet, here he was, sitting beside her, taking her to dinner after a long workday, to try something new. She wasn’t bothered by his touch, in fact, she craved it. Despite the red flags every Cosmo had ever told her to look for and run from there was a warmth emanating from those flags, like a bullet-proof, blood red blanket.

Roman Sionis was a pit bull. An angry dog with a penchant for biting and slicing off ears. Dropping bodies where it pleased him and something about that knowledge set every nerve of hers on fire.

He was a criminal. A killer with blood on his hands. And a psychopath with violence in his heart. And if there was a God in heaven, let him help her because she was falling for him.

I woke up a little early so here's a happy surprise for you guys! So, we got a little more insight into Roman's past, eh? Anyone else get the impression we're missing some information???? Belladonna does. Hope you guys liked this chapter, I know I'm teasing you guys mercilessly but stick with me I PROMISE YOU the smut is coming in the next chapter or two, it just depends on pacing but it will be worth it! Y'all have stuck with me this far just hang on a little longer. I need to work on a few one-shots but I have the next chapter mostly planned out so it shouldn't take quite as long. I also had some family in town so writing was put on the back burner for a little bit.

I'm really loving how this story is coming together and I really appreciate everyone's support, especially my mysterious anonymous questioner who checks in on me, I don't know who you are but I appreciate you! Comments and interaction comes from such a small group so the feedback and check-ins really do keep me motivated!

How do you guys like the new look fo the story??? I finally got Canva Premium so I think I'll be playing around with some more fun stuff like the bars and dividers. You guys know what to do, reblog with those crazy tags, comment and like! Reblogs are the best way to circulate work on Tumblr so we can reach more Toxic Fangirls! And speaking of which a big welcome to a new potential member of the Roman Sionis Toxic Love Fangirl Club who is actually a pretty damn good writer her/their damnself! Looking at you @gilverrwrites and my other toxic fangirls too! @hereticpriest @daenerys-skywalker @tarrenterror25 @supernatural-lover and @keffirinneYou guys are my cheer squad!

Have a great day, let me know what you all think, and stay toxic.

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loycspotting · 3 months

Text

Only the Shadows Know

Movie: Mortdecai (2015)

Characters: Inspector Alistair Martland

Oneshot / Yandere / Drabble

Word Count: 100

Synopsis: While her husband is away, Martland pays Johanna a secret visit.

A/N: So of course the moment I said that wanted to write at least once a week, I didn't touch the computer for a full month 🤦‍♂️. Well, no better time than the present to start again! I wasn't feeling any inspiration and didn't know who to write about. Finally, I realized that inspiration isn't something that's always there. Sometimes, you have to just sit down and start writing. Otherwise, you may be waiting for inspiration for an eternity lol. This is my first yandere. I've become interested in the genre and wanted to give it a shot. This is only drabble so it's very short but dang! Writing exactly 100 words was way more challenging than I expected lol.

Martland gazed lovingly at the woman deep in slumber before him. His desire to see her, to protect her, outweighed the risk of being caught. Besides, the sleeping pill he encouraged her to take was doing its job well. How could Mortdecai roam the world and leave his most valuable treasure defenseless? “I would never leave you, my love.” He softly muttered to himself. One day, he will confess his devotion to his angel and she will understand her place is with him. But for now, as he hides in the dark recesses of her room, only the shadows know.

#ewan mcgregor #ewan mcgregor fanfiction #ewan mcgregor characters #film: mortdecai #Mortdecai #Alistair Martland #ewan mcgregor mortdecai #gwenyth paltrow #martland x johanna #johanna mortdecai #drabble #oneshot #ficlet #yandere #yandere male #soft yandere

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galaxygirl453 · 1 year

Text

⚠️⚠️WARNING PLEASE READ!⚠️⚠️

⚠️My content is going to be about dark stuff maybe really dark stuff so if you don't like it don't read it and block me⚠️

⚠️I do NOT condone these stuff in real life I just like writing these stuff and read it because the writings are amazing once again I do NOT condone these stuff!⚠️

⚠️I will NOT tolerate or respect people who will hate on me or hate on others who create this content⚠️

⚠️PLEASE IF YOU DON'T LIKE DARK STUFF IGNORE MY POSTS AND BLOCK ME⚠️

⚠️I will be mostly doing Yandere,toxic,mean,and more dark themes/content!⚠️

⚠️If I get any hate or anything to do with harming me or anything related to that I will not hesitate to block you or report you⚠️

⚠️ PLEASE RESPECT WHAT I'M WRITING AND IF YOU READ WHAT I WRITE I HOPE YOU LOVE IT AND ENJOY IT⚠️

⚠️I will be doing⚠️

~ Incest/step-incest

~ Stalking

~ Yandere themes

~ Toxic Themes

~ Dark stuff like Manipulation,gas lighting and more

~ Smut

~Dub-con/Non-con (for innocent reader only)

~CNC (Consensual Non-Consent)

~ And more

⚠️Things I will NOT do⚠️

~ Non-con/Dub-con/rape (for regular reader)

~ Foot Fetish

~ Piss kink

~ Anal stuff like pegging

~ Armpit stuff

~ Food play

~ Transgender,gender neutral or male reader (I'm sorry for people who are males,gender neutral or transgender)

---

· I mostly do Austin,Olivia,Vanessa,Elvis,Priscilla, Austin!Elvis,Olivia!Priscilla and anything related to that and am working on star wars stuff which is one the master list

· I DON'T do twilight anymore so that won't be on this Master list only things I'm doing

---

MASTER LIST

🔥=Smut

🦄=Fluff

💞= Multiple relationships.

💔=Angst

🔪=Yandere

🕯=Light Dark/A Little Dark

💊=Dark

💉= Very Dark

---

Vanessa Hudgens

Musical love 🔥🕯💞

His secret,her treasure🔥💞

Mafia's housewife (coming soon)

Austin Butler

His secret,her treasure 🔥💞

Their College Love (coming soon)

Brothers and sister-in-law knows best (coming soon)

Baby sitter Alabama (coming soon)

Mafia's housewife (coming soon)

Love Of A Maid (coming soon)

Watch It Doll (coming soon)

Daddy's Naive Princess (coming soon)

Helping Hand To Relax (coming soon)

Co$t Of Being Loved (coming soon)

Ride Of Lust (coming soon)

His Sick Pleasure And True Color (coming soon)

Trapped In A Lie (coming soon)

Trapped In His Beautiful Cage (coming soon)

Past And Future (coming soon)

Obsessed With Your Obsession (coming soon)

Mrs.Baby Butler,Daddy's Here Now (coming soon)

Olivia Dejonge

Mafia's housewife (coming soon)

Love Of A Maid (coming soon)

Elvis Presley

Musical love 🔥🕯💞

Their College Love (coming soon)

Brothers and sister-in-law knows best (coming soon)

Mafia's housewife (coming soon)

Love Of A Maid (coming soon)

Ride Of Lust (coming soon)

Priscilla Presley

Their College Love (coming soon)

Brothers and sister-in-law knows best (coming soon)

Mafia's housewife (coming soon)

Love Of A Maid (coming soon)

Past And Future (coming soon)

Obsessed With Your Obsession (coming soon)

Ride Of Lust (coming soon)

Austin!Elvis

My Best Friend's Sister (coming soon)

Olivia!Priscilla

(Nothing yet)

Anakin Skywalker

Bound To Darkness ( Coming soon)

Thee Princess Of Naboo (coming soon)

Padme Amidala

Bound To Darkness ( Coming soon)

Thee Princess Of Naboo (coming soon)

Obi-wan Kenobi

Thee Princess Of Naboo (coming soon)

Ewan McGregor

(Nothing yet)

Hayden Christensen

(Nothing yet)

---

Taglist:

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lunagojo · 2 years

Text

characters I write for / rules! (UPDATED)

Marvel Cinematic Universe:

Loki Laufeyson (MCU)

Stephen Strange / Doctor Strange (MCU)

Wade Wilson / Deadpool (MCU)

Thor Odinson (MCU)

Bucky Barnes / Winter Soldier (MCU)

Yondu Udonta (MCU)

Quentin Beck / Mysterio (MCU)

Pietro Maximoff / Quicksilver (MCU)

Logan Howlett / Wolverine (X-Men)

Peter Parker / Amazing Spiderman (Andrew Garfield ver.) (Sony)

Eddie Brock / Venom (Sony)

Thena (MCU)

Sylvie Laufeydottir (MCU)

Wanda Maximoff / Scarlet Witch (MCU)

Valkyrie (MCU)

Gamora (MCU)

Anime:

Gundham Tanaka (Danganronpa)

Mondo Oowada (Danganronpa)

Nagito Komaeda (Danganronpa)

Rantaro Amami (Danganronpa)

Kiyotaka Ishimaru (Danganronpa)

Koga (Inuyasha)

Sesshomaru (Inuyasha)

Inuyasha

Tanjirou Kamado (Demon Slayer)

Inosuke Hashibira (Demon Slayer)

Sanemi Shinazugawa (Demon Slayer)

Kyojuro Rengoku (Demon Slayer)

Giyu Tomioka (Demon Slayer)

Tengen Uzui (Demon Slayer)

Mitsuri Kanroji (Demon Slayer)

Gojo Satoru (Jujutsu Kaisen)

Itadori Yuuji (Jujutsu Kaisen)

Fushiguro Megumi (Jujutsu Kaisen)

Ryomen Sukuna (Jujutsu Kaisen)

Kento Nanami (Jujutsu Kaisen)

Inumaki Toge (Jujutsu Kaisen)

Bakugou Katsuki (BNHA)

Shoto Todoroki (BNHA)

Tenya Iida (BNHA)

Eijiro Kirishima (BNHA)

Dabi (BNHA)

Tomura Shigaraki (BNHA)

Atsuhiro Sako / Mr. Compress (BNHA)

Toga Himiko (BNHA)

Jin Bubaigawara / Twice (BNHA)

Keigo Takami / Hawks (BNHA)

Kai Chisaki / Overhaul (BNHA)

Shoto Aizawa (BNHA)

Video Games:

Gabriel Reyes / Reaper (Overwatch)

Jamison Fawkes / Junkrat (Overwatch)

Mick Mundy / Sniper (Team Fortress 2)

Dell Conagher / Engineer (Team Fortress 2)

Jeremy Charleston / Scout (Team Fortress 2)

Dr. Ludwig / Medic (Team Fortress 2)

Karl Heisenberg (Resident Evil 8)

Lady Alcina Dimitrescu (Resident Evil 8)

Prince Sidon (LOZ: Breath of the Wild)

Princess Zelda (Mainly Twilight Princess ver.)

Noob Saibot (Mortal Kombat)

Steve Fox (Tekken)

Vega Fabio la Cerda (Street Fighter)

Lor'themar Theron (World of Warcraft)

Grand Magister Rommath (World of Warcraft)

Dragonqueen Alexstrasza (World of Warcraft)

Dragonprincess Lunastrasza Moonstrider (World of Warcraft, my oc! :) )

Prince Kael’thas Sunstrider (World of Warcraft)

Illidan Stormrage (World of Warcraft)

Other:

Jun-ho (Squid Game)

King Orm (Aquaman, Patrick Wilson ver.)

Adrian Veidt / Ozymandias (Watchmen)

Dan Dreiberg / Nite Owl II (Watchmen)

Thorin Oakenshield (The Hobbit)

Din Djarin / The Mandalorian (Star Wars)

Obi Wan Kenobi (Star Wars)

Bruce Wayne / Batman (Battinson, Nolanverse or Arkhamverse)

Selina Kyle / Catwoman (Zoe Kravitz, Nolanverse or Arkhamverse)

Harleen Quinzel / Harley Quinn (Margot Robbie or Arkhamverse)

Roman Sionis / Black Mask (Ewan McGregor or Arkhamverse)

Slade Wilson / Deathstroke (Arkhamverse)

Arthur Curry / Aquaman (Jason Momoa ver.)

What I will write:

Mainly headcanons and preferences, _____x reader

Only doing SFW for now (this might change depending on my comfort level) -- I will do suggestive content, however (just not blatant smut)

Please be as clear as possible when sending in a request! This helps me be as accurate as possible!

Please be patient with the time it takes for me to answer! I have a part time job and a life outside of tumblr, plus I get burnout a lot

I will not do: yandere, noncon, p*dophilia, abuse, etc.

I am 25 years old (soooo not a minor, lol)

I will do maximum 3 characters / ask

If the ask does not follow the rules then I will delete / not answer!

#mcu x reader #marvel x reader #dc x reader #danganronpa x reader #inuyasha x reader #tf2 x reader #team fortress 2 x reader #mcu #dc #batman x reader #star wars x reader #watchmen x reader #overwatch x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader

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stupid-sloot-headcanons · 2 years

Note

You mentioned Black Mask while talking about The Riddler and whooooooo boy I have been obsessed for years since Arkham Origins lmao He such good yandere potential especially after losing his last girl and how I just feel like he's an actual romantic (albeit a possessive one)

YESSS fellow Roman Sionis fan

In the comics he's done some more horrible shit (my daughter Spoiler deserved and still deserves better) but I love when Black Mask pops up in Batman media. He's even been in a movie, albeit not technically a Batman one and on a portrayal VERY different from his actual character. But still Ewan McGregor's there!

And he's not just in Origins, he's in the beginning of Arkham City too. He's there for that one cutscene and oop--oh, there, there he goes, and he's gone for the rest of the game. Ah well. Bye Roman ✌️

#.dc #.arkhamverse #hes great in the under the red hood arc #.black mask

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dangerousstrawberryshark · 3 years

Text

VOTE! (NOT FOR A FIC BUT A CHARACTER/CELEBRITY)

So, I'm gonna cancel the yandere series, I really like this one (The Pharaoh x male reader). And because I have never seen one that involves Pharaoh x male reader.

Same rules:

PICK ONE CHARACTER! (Don't say [Character 1] or [Character 2] you must pick or I'll choose for you

You MUST put it in the comments. If you can't type in the comments or you want to stay anonymous, send me an ask with your vote and I'll add it in the comments.

Edward Cullen

Carlisle Cullen

Jasper Hale

Emmett Cullen

Jacob Black

Caius

Aro

Marcus

Demetri

Sam Uley

Garett

Tony Stark

Peter Parker (Bumping up his age)

Steve Rogers

Bucky Barnes

Thor Odinson

Clint Barton

Pietro Maximoff

Scott Lang

Bruce Banner

Dr. Strange

Loki

Venom

Deadpool

Helmut Zemo

Falcon

Izuku Midoriya

Dabi

Katsuki Bakugou

Mirio Togata

Tenya Lida

All Might

Enji Todoroki/Endeavor

Hawks

Eijiro Kirishima

Shoto Todoriki

Chris Hemsworth

Chris Evans

Robert Downey Jr.

Shawn Mendes

Tom Holland

Jeremy Renner

Sebastian Stan

Henry Cavill

Zac Efron

Colby Brock

Brennen Taylor

Sebastian Stan

Jensen Ackles

Jared Padalecki

Anthony Mackey

Aaron Taylor Johnson

Misha Collins

Jeffrey Dean Morgan

Matt Cohen

Bryan Dechart

Joe Manganiello

Pedro Pascal

Kim Nam-Joon/RM

Kim Seok-JIn

Min Yoongi

Jung Ho-Seok

Park Ji-Min

Kim Tae-Hyung

Jeon Jung-Kook.

James McAvoy

Ryan Reynolds

Robert Pattinson

Hugh Jackman

Johnny Depp

Scott Eastwood

Jared Leto

Ben Affleck

Ewan McGregor

Channing Tatum

Luke Evans

Tom Hiddleston

Dean Winchester

Sam Winchester

Castiel

John Winchester

Lucifer

Crowley

Jack Kline

Young John (Michael)

Dean (Michael)

Adam (Micheal)

Archie Andrews

Jughead Jones

Reggie Mantle

Kevin Keller

Hiram Lodge

Malachai

F. P. Jones

Fangs Fogarty

Eren Jaeger

Levi Ackerman

Erwin Smith

Jean Kirstein

Reiner Braun

Kenny Ackerman

Bertolt Hoover

Clark Kent/Superman

Bruce Wayne/Batman

Arthur Curry/Aquaman

Billy Batson/Shazam (Bumping up his age)

Hal Jordan/Green Lantern

Dick Grayson

Jason Todd

Damian Wayne

Tim Drake

Barry Allen/The Flash

Oliver Queen/Green Arrow

Captain Cold

Captain Atom

Chris Redfield

Leon S. Kennedy

Albert Wesker

Carlos Oliveira

Ethan Winters

Karl Heisenberg

Piers Nivans

Mr. X

Cole Young

Johnny Cage

Scorpion

Kui Liang

Damon Salvatore

Stefan Salvatore

Klaus Mikaelson

Elijah Mikaelson

Kol Mikaelson

Jeremy Gilbert

Tyler Lockwood

Matt Donovan

Tobio Kageyama

Kei Tuskishima

Toru Oikawa

Tetsuro Kuroo

Asahi Azumane

Daichi Sawamura

Wakatoshi Ushijima

Hajime Iwaizumi

Kotaro Bokuto

Satoru Gojo

Kento Nanami

Aoi Todo

Toji Fushiguro

Ryomen Sukuna

Brahms Heelshire

Jason Voorhees

Michael Myers

Stu Matcher

Billy Loomis

Hannibal Lector

Will Graham

Norman Bates

Pyramid head

Sweeney Todd.

Bobby Drake

Scott Summers

Logan Howlett

Erik Lehnsherr

Young Professor X

Scott Mccall

Derek Hale

Peter Hale

Chris Argent

Andy Barber

Ransom Drysdale

Geralt of Rivia

Ian

Mickey

Collin Shea

Johnny Storm

Jake Jensen

Ari Levinson

Tanner Grayton

RK800 (CONNOR)

RK900 (NINES?)

Gavin Reed

#vote #x male reader #male reader #male reader insert #male reader imagine

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caelum-vermillion · 3 years

Text

HELLO THERE!

Hi! Cee, random potato in this site. Welcome to my personal safe haven!

BLOGS/SIDE-BLOGS

@caelum-phyriina-vermillon - Main Blog, dedicated to ADCU/Adam Driver Character Universe.

@trashforcastiel - Sideblog dedicated to Supernatural, Destiel and Misha Collins.

@the-resident-yandere - Sideblog, dedidated to all things anime

@pedropascalistpascal - Sideblog, dedicated to Pedro Pascal and The Mandalorian

@isthissithlife - Sideblog, dedicated for all things Star Wars, EU + New Canon

@atriplehellothere - Sideblog, dedicated to Ewan McGregor

@sebbystansdoll - Sideblog, dedicated to Sebastian Stan and MCU

Other Platforms Outside Tumblr

Twitter

@caelum_phyriina

Archive Of Our Own / Ao3

CaelumPhyriina

Wattpad

@CaelumPhyriina

Quotev

@caelumphyriinavermillon

RP Blog(s)

[Redacted]

Masterlist

To Be Announced.

#caelumphyriina

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writerbyaccident · 5 years

Note

Yay! Open requests! Do you think you could do something about yandere Black Mask (Roman Sionis) trying to seduce reader? Until maybe getting frustrated at the slow process and just kidnapping them?

i can’t wait to see ewan mcgregor play him in birds of prey!

Payment Comes Due (Yandere Black Mask/Roman SionisxReader)

As you began to wake, the first thing you were conscious of was the cold. It surrounded you, pressing up against your mouth so harshly that you felt as though you could hardly breathe. You tried to open your eyes, but they were frozen shut, whether due to the cold or your fear you weren’t exactly sure. As sensation slowly returned to you, you realized that you were lying on something smooth and level. Trying to stretch out your arms to feel around, your movements were halted by something attached to your wrists. That sensation more than anything else was what finally made you able to open your eyes.

The ceiling above you was gray. In fact, the whole room was gray. It was gray and cold and empty. Looking down, you saw what exactly was wrapped around your wrists, causing your eyes to widen in shock. They were shackles, shackles that were firmly attached to the metal table you had been placed on. It wasn’t just your wrists though. No, there were matching shackles around your ankles as well. For a moment after you saw them, you felt the cold pressing harshly against you, leaving you with nothing but the image of your chains. But soon enough the moment passed, letting everything flood into you again. The feeling was completely overwhelming, leading you to panic and thrash desperately. It was no use though, and when you paused, you heard a chuckle echo throughout the room.

At the sudden sound, you tried to twist your head around to see who was in the room with you, but you were chained far too tightly to see. The next thing you heard though was the sound of slow and orderly footsteps approaching you. They teased you, hinting at another person just out of your reach. But suddenly, a face appeared before you, causing you to jerk harshly against your restraints. A skull was staring down at you, a black skull with burning eyes. You felt choked with fear, but not because of the face itself. Rather, because it was a face that you recognized.

“I’m so glad that you’re finally awake, it was beginning to get awfully dull. Not that I don’t love to watch you sleep, my dear, but I was getting rather impatient.” As his eyes bored into yours, you found that words had abandoned you, leaving you without the only shield you thought you had left.

“Besides,” Roman added, reaching down to caress your face in a cruel mockery of gentleness, “I missed looking into those beautiful eyes of yours.” At his remark, you felt speech return, propelled by your fear and anger.

“Where am I?” you asked him, somewhere between a demand and a plea. “Why did you bring me here?” He didn’t answer though, instead simply clucking his tongue in annoyance.

“Oh, you know precisely why you are here, my dear. You knew the price for attempting to continue to reject me. Perhaps that is why you did it. Perhaps you wanted this to happen,” he mused, watching your reaction carefully.

“That’s not true,” you replied, pleading for him to finally listen to you. “I just wanted you to leave me alone.”

“There’s no need to lie anymore, darling. I know that Gotham has forced you to wear a mask all of your life, but you don’t need to wear it with me. I know who you are beneath it, I am the only one who knows, and I love you all the more for it.”

“You’re insane,” you cried, unable to bite back what you so desperately needed to say. “You don’t know the first thing about me.” Once the words left your mouth, you felt your fear spike through your heart, terrified of what he would do in response.

“Oh dear,” he sighed sadly. “It seems that Gotham has done even more damage to you than I had feared.” His tone was merely sorrowful, but inside he felt a tendril of rage crawl through him. He had waited for so long to finally have you with him, and yet you still refused to return the love he felt for you. Leaning over you, he reached into the pocket of his dress pants, drawing out the movement elegantly to let your apprehension rise. There was a gleam of silver in his hand once it was out of his pocket, the silver of a cruel-looking knife. Noticing your body beginning to tremble, he brought his lips to yours. They were soft at first, surprisingly delicate, as if he was afraid that this was a dream that would end if he pushed it too far. But after a moment, his kiss became rough and feral in his desperation to finally taste you after waiting for so long. Even after he had pulled away, he still kept his lips against you, whispering against your cheek.

“But don’t worry, my dear, I can help you.”

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thornsinmycrown · 7 months

Text

DISCOVERING YOU | HEADCANONS

YANDERE!DAN TORRANCE x GN!READER

warnings: [ MDNI +18 ] exhausted headspace, self-deprecating thoughts (reader), isolation, yandere, obsessive, mildly-stalking behavior, gaslighting, savior complex. word count: 1,302 k.

summary: after coinciding with you, dan learns you were always bound to find each other.

When you have an ability like the one Dan has, you start to believe everything stops being coincidental at some point — and you did have it.

Unbeknownst, you shone. A shine as bright as the lamp on your bedside table now, but shining still.

Therefore, your life was ordinary, you loved your quiet life, working at a coffee shop everything seemed to go slow, at your pace, no more pressure from undesired people — that was until he arrived.

He had tired eyes, his hand movements were awkward but his smile seemed charming enough for you to give him the shadow of a smile and move on — but he didn't, he couldn't move on.

The moment he steps in, he can hear the gentleness of your thoughts, slowly gliding in tune with him.

Finding the kindness of strangers was a rarity in his life, the crumbs society let his torn soul feed with, moments he treasured when everything went downhill in every new place he went. Except, you weren't crumbs.

It didn't take him long to realize you had the shining when he heard your first thoughts —genuinely gentle thoughts— by mistake.

They found a way to lure him, and replacing booze with coffee he found the reason to justify his constant visits to your workplace so often.

It wasn't uncommon for you to attend regular customers, it was a small town where everyone knew everyone, thus you didn't give him relevance, soon he wouldn't be a new face.

He lived disappointed at your lack of conversation, greeting you with 'good mornings' and wishing you a good day, the enthusiasm he puts in every 'please' and 'thank you', attempting to make small talk but always getting the same insipid answers. But he couldn't blame it on you, he wished he had more to say than broken childhood memories or tales about ghosts.

He secretly wonders if you lived it too, the horrors and distress. Shy about intruding your mind at first, he expected the moment you could warm up with him and talk about yourself — it never occurred.

You had always been this shy persona, secluding yourself and guarding any piece of yourself, not wanting to expose any of your most vulnerable self.

One way or another, he ends up drowning into the sea of your mind, drinking your most inner thoughts in, sipping them like a good wine, and when he gets to the horrendous parts oh! how could you live like that this whole time without him?

Now he admires you. After everything you’ve been through and how much you had to endure, but you couldn’t live like that forever fearful, insecure, anxious, upset. That wasn’t a life, he knew it himself.

Closing his eyes, there's only you in his mind, thoughts of you slowly invading his day-to-day, a love worm eating his heart like a buffet, and he allows it nonetheless, convinced that he had found you for a reason — a greater purpose in each other's lives.

He doesn't believe in those kinds of fantasies at first, that until one day you finally give him more than a timid glance, he thought he had messed up when you looked at him in horror. Was he thinking too loud? Have you heard how beautiful he thought you were?

Without realizing, he collected every piece of information scattered around town, he hasn't met anyone who doesn't love you yet, however you didn't seem to notice how you affected the people around you with your shine. You're so lucky!

He discovers you don’t live too far away from each other, and on your walk home, he gets to see you through the blinds, guarding you, making sure to be ready to go to your rescue if you're ever in need, he's ready to be your hero.

When he finally decides to ask you out, he’s surprised you accepted.

He knew that in the back of your mind you always had second thoughts about everything, but he had set himself in motion to impress you, to clear any doubts your blurry mind could create, to convince you of the certainty that you belonged together.

Your smile is sweet and your face is lovely, he can’t stop looking at your every move, from the way you tilt your head when you’re embarrassed or how you cover your mouth when you laugh, so vulnerable, anyone could hurt you, stain you, he needed to protect you. He was now more sure than ever that you deserve someone who could take good care of you.

Who better than him? He knew you better than anyone. He took it as his responsibility, his oath. Taking advantage of his ability, he can know your most intimate inner desires, without you realizing it, you have no idea of your shine and he knows well how to make the best of it.

With your favorite flowers in hand and sweet praises, he slowly paves his way to your heart.

He's a demanding lover, looking for constant reassurance from his partner, to feel his attempts of demonstrating affection are not in vain or absurd, he wants to change, he wants to be good for you.

He disguises his obsession and isolating behavior with walks through the park, movie nights and romantic dinners.

But don't let him be misunderstood, he's a fair lover, he doesn't spend any of his time with any others, why would he have other friends when he has you?

You can’t even tell when his desires started to become your own.

“Move in with me, there’s enough space for us”, “It’s closer to your job, I can walk you there”, “I miss you so much when you’re gone”, “We can decorate together”. You slowly fall into it, indulging in all of those promises of forming a loving home with a good man by your side, because he was a good man, right?

At first you feel uncomfortable, as much as you try it, you feel like you're taking up space into his life, and you miss the loneliness of the early morning coffee, absorbed by Dan and his consuming affection.

You wake up wrapped in his suffocating embrace, the same way you went to sleep the night before, little by little your routine adjusts to him and his schedule.

You start arriving late to your job, so improper from you, distracted with feelings and thoughts heavily inserted inside your mind, and though clients have no complaints about you, your boss absolutely has and eventually fires you.

You get home, upset and tired, thinking of what was wrong with you, why were you so disconnected from your life? What happened to what you used to be? You weren’t always sunshines and rainbows, you knew, still you were better than this!

When he gets home and you explain what happened with what used to be your ‘work’, he shows himself supportive, but on the inside, his heart bursts with joy. He would have you for himself, waiting for him to come home every day now.

And as he hugs you and wipes your tears, he speaks words of resignation and how you don’t have to worry about anything because he can take care of you, you don’t have to deal with those hideous people that don't know how to treat you right.

He convinces you that you didn’t need that job. In fact, they didn’t deserve you, no one did, did you even like it? He’s sure you didn’t as you are now, you’re better off without them, you had him! And he had you, and you had him and he had you.

Any trace of the life you had before him vanishes, but, what else could you need? He has you where he wants you, just the way it should be.

Author's note: Okay, I understand he's the good guy dilf, got it, but... I am not unaware nor can ignore all the potential this character has for yandere! stuff, I mean, just think about it for a sec!! anyways, i hope you enjoy this treat.

#dark content #dan torrance #yandere!dan torrance x reader #dan torrance x reader #yandere dan torrance x reader #yandere ewan mcgregor #ewan mcgregor x reader #ewan mcgregor #fay writes

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kneamet · 2 years

Note

Hi! Could you do one for Roman Sionis, where the reader is a telepath who's a frequent at Roman's club

But every advance Roman does while the reader is in his club, she'll know because she easily read Roman's thoughts and she smugly points out that his obsession with her won't work because "every move he makes that involves her, she's 10 steps ahead"

And Roman's just looking at her with an interested look?

Hehe thanks!

my beautiful madness

Trigger Warning: obsession, drabble. yandere

Word Count: 609

Character: roman sionis/reader

my beautiful madness

The air was enveloped by the smell of perfume, light alcohol and suspense; the club glowed, lived its own life, was filled with hot and rich people. They were insects, as inconspicuous as time, trying to show off their «second self» — hypocritical, tender, profitable. Their bodies, lightened in tight-fitting suits, dresses, shone, showed the whole owner; cigarettes smoldered in their hands, thin glasses were clutched in their palms, little fingers were set aside. They are like caterpillars, striving to be butterflies, but however they have not come to a happy end.

Roman spent another evening in peace, sitting at a distance from the guests, and watched their habits and behavior with animal, animal interest. He was swinging a glass of whiskey, washed the sides with liquid, fixing his eyes on the only decent person in this sinful room — you. Sionis did not move, his hot breath was on his skin, the pounding of his heart drowned out even Dinah's birdlike voice. How long have you been coming here, to the place of sin and debauchery, vice and vulgarity — his club? He wouldn't have remembered, and was it important? Who is interested in numbers when there is a real diamond in front of him? even the pursuit of the material is not worth it to contemplate you like this.

He knew that you were far from perfect: your private unbearable sarcasm, too bright gestures... you managed to tame the mess, and Roman — chaos — favored you. You were just as crippled as he was, strangled by your parents and obligations so that now there were no barriers in front of you anymore. A beautiful, proud bird with clipped wings, charred wings, with fluffy feathers falling.

This is a party of darkness and there is no one to believe, no one to look up to. Roman, lifting his head, stuck out his clean-shaven chin, and carefully walked to the place where she was sitting. Chatting with another uncouth man who pulled his hands to the most intimate places, he suppressed the desire to break, but he felt his fingers begin to tremble. Roman leaned against the side of the sofa upholstered in red fabric, and leaned towards you, to your ear and quietly whispered something threatening, sweet, rude. everything in the world is a pretense and a game; and if you want to play, then he will enthusiastically take part. He rubbed his nose against her skin — ah, that smell! — and, closing his eyes, he sniffed hair until he felt a repulsive movement.

Roman looked at your smug face in bewilderment, but quickly recovered, smiling seductively and spreading his hands. The man with pink hands, a greasy stain on his shirt, a shiny collar and tight pants, has already left. Her piercing gaze was directed only at him, focused only on him, and Roman enjoyed the attention. His chest filled with even more narcissism, and his hands relaxed.

"You're not going to make it, Mr. Sionis," he tensed when he heard the despised surname; Mr. Sionis was his father, he's not Mr. Sionis. You looked at him ironically, grinning. “I know your every move,” you got up and, hitting him on the nose with your finger, said: “ten steps forward,” and turning around, left like a white free swan. Roman was fascinated by her proud gait, did not utter a word; he could imagine the soft sound of her thighs touching and get a true obsessive joy from it.

His club is a city where the lights go out, and he calls death down the aisle; she left a couple of scars.

The beautiful madness was not silent. The beautiful madness triumphed.

@jjeresano-euler sorry that it turned out so little (and so late). if you are not satisfied with something - the text, the narrative - write to me and i can write something else for you. but thanks for the request! even if i dont really like this job. the next most likely will be drabble about patrick :)

by the way, have any of you watched/read "young adam"? and if so, what can you say about joe? i just finished reading the book and god, i will definitely write something on joe.

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kneamet · 2 years

Text

le désir de peindre

Trigger Warning: angst, obsession, depressive thoughts, drabble

Word Count: 631

Character: christian/reader

le désir de peindre

When Satine died, it as if Christian had been sentenced to death. Madness, stinginess, and greed, and debauchery corroded the soul and body.

He no longer grieved for her, did not remember her; Satine became a memory, a faded spot in his story, written on a clattering typewriter. She wanted it, and he forgot her — the memory of her was scattered like ashes in the wind, turned into a closed book. Christian hated, blamed himself, lived in dreams and constant oblivion. In those days, in that year when his faith in sincere, all-consuming love remained in his soul, in those times when he gave himself to his heart, and not to his mind, Christian took the cross: his only friend become a bottle. He stayed at home, alone — looking for love, but found only loneliness and indifference — thinking about songs of pain, despair. About the fact that it was behind this window that he, ecstatically, stroked Satin's hands.

Looking for himself, Christian stood there unconsciously, but now he was burning brighter than the Gamma with Omega, stopped catching the elusive time with his hands and worked, again with childish trepidation he gave himself to work, to a new book. He had her, his true love, a muse created to feel. Apart from her love, there is no sea for him, there are no boundless golden fields, there are no lies and vices, there is no soul — there is only you. The beloved who helped him carry the cross; the beloved, thanks to whom Christian again felt the joy of eating, drinking and sleeping.

He created ninety-nine characters, but in each there was a particle of the author. During grief, during grief, Christian bought modest buns for six centimes, stored endless glass bottles, felt тоскý, and as Toulouse said: "only Christian could know saudade." Every day he looked in the mirror, saw dimmed eyes that had become so faded that they no longer seemed blue; saw thin hair, emaciated the body, thirsty for touch, hugs, love.

You helped him, charmed him; Christian was ready to devote himself to you! he was in love with you, looked at you with loving eyes, pursing his lips, and felt a slight peeling in his stomach, soft, as if he was facing an important choice. He was sitting at a typewriter, his head was full of poems, rhymes, metaphors, but he only enjoyed you — a peaceful and calm face, sleepy and quiet — he understood that he would never be able to convey your beauté; you were his Aphrodite, his goddess.

He wanted to lie down with you, in bed, gentle from the caress of the fragrance and draw sharp lines between the points in his handwriting, getting moles and freckles from the heels to the top. Christian didn't deserve to be covered with a piece of wood, and you deserved peace; his legs were shaking before you, he forgot all the words: they broke up into sounds and letters. Previously, the air of the apartment smelled of absinthe, now it was filled with roses; he inhaled the smell of your hair and, as if with ammonia, his breathing stopped.

His spirit is excited today, an indescribable dream was filled with miracles, whims. Christian erected an altar to his beloved in his soul, and found happiness in the pattern of her tears. He called her alone, loved her blindly, while sleeping he gently touched the crystal skin and supple stroked, afraid to touch. She riveted his gaze, caressed by the radiance of summer days, made him shudder with unearthly beauty, tremble like a distant star.

Christian loved you like a nocturnal vault, loved you madly, like Montmartre.

Christian was reinventing love, but kept asking himself: «Do you come from Heaven or rise from the abyss, Beauty?»

in fact, this is not my best work, but no matter how i do it, it still does not work out beautifully. however, i hope u enjoyed it! the next work, i believe, will be on renton :)

#moulin rouge #moulin rouge movie #Ewan McGregor #ewan mcgregor x reader #yandere ewan mcgregor #ewan mcgregor x you #christian x reader #moulin rouge christian #moulin rouge x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #obsession #obsessive #yandere obi wan kenobi #yandere obi-wan kenobi #Obi-Wan Kenobi #drabble #angst

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kneamet · 1 year

Text

Ewan McGregor’s characters in yandere (3 part)

and I finally deigned to release the third part, which i promised you fur more than two months! i hope you liked it very much and partly dedicated (because it was written because of this person) to @compulsivewriter111. thank you!

Brendan Lynch — possessive, aggressive, obsessive and controlling yandere.

In his work — if there was such a name — there was an unspoken rule: either you stop thinking with a penis, or you get the fuck out of the team; a person of the first type deserved to die, because he can easily betray a friend and substitute the team. Brendan couldn't stand traitors; his eyes glowed like steel, his hands clenched tightly, ready to stab, and his body tensed. He killed traitors, abandoned them and destroyed them; who knew that after serving a long term, he would still take pity on you. In prison, Brendan had all the time in the world, and he was thinking during chess games about you, your betrayal and betrayal; he was thinking about how he would get even with you, burn his own name on his body.

The first meeting was sudden and very meager, just glances were enough; the second, when Sam already informed him about your participation in the robbery, Brendan could not stand it, he accumulated hatred for a long time, but everything turned out more or less peacefully, apart from a couple of bruises on wrists, neck and stomach. Brendan, teeth clenched, will take you with him and will not let you go a step, will always be near, like a demon, a ghost, a devil. He threatens you when he sees disobedience, and beats you for running away. Control is his middle name.

Don't make Brendan angry — every dog in Australia knows about it. And it doesn't matter if you are his friend or his beloved, he will not stand it and take out his anger on you, make you beg for forgiveness on his knees. The scenes of betrayal remain fresh; Lynch literally makes you walk around the house on tiptoe, and when he takes a shower, he demands that you sit next to him so that he can see you. He hates screams, he hates pathetic people with their «don't hurt me»; he shuts your mouth and no matter how much you try to escape, Brendan won't let you go. For too long his fate has been controlled by you, his time has come.

“Do what you're fucking told.”

***

Elmont — protective, possessive, controlling and obsessive yandere.

Elmont knew about the rules from childhood, adjusted to others and always respected future responsibilities, had an idea of honor and was ready for anything. What he was not ready for was friend Isabelle — it was their youth and Elmont looking after them noblely when they, in an attempt to escape from the palace, stole things and food from the maids. When he was once again assigned to guard a newly arrived princess from another kingdom, he was not happy; when he found out that this princess was you, his heartbeat seemed to be audible even through his armor.

This time your stay has become a long one. He seems to already know you by heart — he has long since learned your habits, the way you walk and hold a sword, since he taught it himself, — the charming voice and even the seductive smell of your hair; Elmont could recognize your top slightly, even surrounded by men alone; and beside you — Isabelle, just like you, wearing long hoods. With your escapes, you only complicate his life, but sometimes it seems as if he is fascinated by it, as if he likes to chase you.

You will never be able to hear a confession from his mouth, but full control is provided for you; even Isabelle Elmont treats more favorably than he treats you, constantly saying that this is just your safety. He often reminds you of your dead mother, and when he holds you in a warm embrace, he caresses your head and says that he will protect you; that he is always there, and you have him. And he has you.

"Princess, you don't know about obligations and laws any better than I do, but does that stop me from loving you?”

***

Alistair Martland — jealous, obsessive, soft and dependent yandere.

An old love, a university love, his very real love. No matter how much time passed, no matter what adventures she got involved in (and he with her), no matter how many refusals he heard, Alistair knew: he was doomed to be with you, to be under your seductive power. The written poems from the university, which he is still afraid to read to you, were still kept in his house, but he never had the courage. The boss of M-5, a promising employee, locked in a kennel of his own emotions, too sensitive and knowing you from cover to cover. You've been saving him, helping him, dragging him along all these long years.

Alistair endures — endures for a long time: five-minute dates when you can't wait to leave him; stroking on the head that he loves when you need something; tolerates your ridiculous antics and covers up before the government. He will always forgive you; he will shake his head and try to kiss you, but he will get permission with the condition not to touch. Alistair watches over you, does everything for you — helps out with money when you're broke, and asks you to move in with him; helps out when you get to the police on charges of theft.

His knowledge of art is the most famous artists and writers; he asks you to tell him about them; he closes his eyes in delight and leans against your shoulder, listening in peace with a wonderful voice. Alistair loves you, but he knows in his heart that his feelings are not mutual, wrong, and he has no right to cover for you. When you are alone, he opens a bottle of red Chardonnay, lies down next to you and is about to confess... how the bell rings and you leave. Alistair remains at a loss to watch you for the rest of her life.

"Do you remember I wrote poems about Johanna at university? I wrote about you...”

***

Dave Braden — protective, manipulative and obsessive yandere.

“It was just a job," Dave continued to assure himself, "just an article, first — hand information.” After all, he did not collect every record of yours and went to every concert in the city, he did not cut out photos from magazines, he did not store newspapers with your interviews and dreamed of taking his own. When Rolling Stone reported that they should write an article about such a famous singer, Dave could not miss such a good opportunity, so armed with dictaphones, a pen and a notebook, he went to your house.

To be honest, you weren't particularly happy about his appearance — or any journalists — but he managed to break into the house; and your home excited him, he immediately drew attention to scattered things, records in a chaotic order, a bunch of books and a couple of musical instruments. In his head, Dave immediately stressed that he would definitely look here a second time, but for more important things. He will try to ingratiate himself with you: he will say nice words, pretend to be a victim, remembering his ex-wife, and repeat that you are doing everything right.

It's not worth abandoning him, it's not worth doubting his devotion to you — he will run after you, get in the way and constantly drag from the studio to the house, watch by car and send letters. Dave will always find a trick during a quarrel, smile gently and have forgiveness in his pocket. He knows that you can't stay mad at him for a long time, such a charming man and always uses it. Dave will do anything for you, even if he turns mountains, it's just worth loving him, reciprocating.

"I'll write an article about you, make you even more famous!”

***

Julien Sorel — obsessive, possessive and manipulative yandere.

Everyone at home despised him, and he hated his brothers and father. Brainless, wooden and boring creatures, Julien did not find understanding from the family, did not find the joy of communicating with them, and did not see the future that his father wanted for him. Being young, ambitious, with bright eyes and Napoleonic dreams, Julien wanted only one thing — to rise above and show his family, show the whole of France, the whole world that they were wrong; his mind, his pure-loving heart deserved more. He wanted to live his ideal life, but he was sensibly aware that first he would have to get his hands dirty: to appear before the world as a gouverneur.

The days of work flew by slowly and painfully — constant displays of knowledge, Bible readings and unbearable patience of harassment from Madame de Renal. Julien, clasping his hands, continuing to look at the small portrait of Napoleon, was preparing for the worst until he met you; since then, with the picture of the emperor, he has also held your letters. After all, that meeting was completely accidental — a walk of children in the park, a meeting of old friends, and now he no longer takes his eyes off you, completely forgetting about dogmas and rules, goals and ideas about the future. At that moment Julien didn't care about the church, didn't care about the situation. He only cared about you.

Endless letters, endless pretenses, and all in order to get you, to get recognition. Julien does not hesitate to use evil methods, sinful for holy people, deception and manipulation. He looks like a fool to you, a pretender, even if he is deprived of an extraordinary mind. Julien begins to live differently — because you appear in his life — and he changes all his plans again; now he is building a career next to you, with you and for you.

"I am all love for you, but perhaps the word «love» does not really play a role here. Your cold heart beats only for me, and mine only for you.”

***

Michael — possessive, manipulative, protective and obsessive yandere.

The virus was infecting the world, capturing the terrible clutches of the disease. People stopped appearing on the streets — open restaurants and cafes were empty, shops were filled with products, work became remote. But they did not stop feeling — laughing, rejoicing, crying, grieving. Michael was disappointed, at the same time very annoyed by the spread of an unknown virus. The last evenings he lies on the bed, looks at the ceiling, thinks about you, regrets that he can't hug you.

The old client, whose tastes he remembered, considered himself your personal chef, the girl he liked, the one with whom he slept in the same bed - Michael was truly in love and unhappy. His heart was fluttering, and there was a grin on his face when you came to an empty restaurant and he, the only one, seemed to be able to offer you the whole menu (and all of himself); how timely, he thought, he went out for a smoke break. Since then, he considers this meeting the first real date.

Michael knows how to soothe, gently strokes your back in circular movements when you lose your sense of smell. He is disappointed when he realizes that he is infected — understands that he will no longer be able to feel your soft smell: hair, body, all of you... He's angry, angry at himself, but he'll never be able to take it out on you. Ah, a dessert dear to his heart, a tasty morsel, abandoned by everyone and clinging to him, a brave defender! He does not let you go during the virus, does not let you go outside for groceries — all by himself! he says, — and you should rest, take care of yourself.

"You like being with me, don't lie, you need me.”

***

Joe — possessive, risky, obsessive and jealous yandere.

Scotland was depressing for him, the barge was dragging boredom and monotony with it. Would like to sail away from here—to Montevideo, Macau, anywhere. What was he even doing here, in this damn damn North? Joe did not find a home for himself, often connected his life with the lives of other people, but as soon as he did, he was pulled out again. Leslie's primitive jokes and his pink toy face, Ella's sarcasm and her full body, Jim's restlessness—all this irritated, exasperated. Joe thought about giving it all up, leaving, forcing himself to forget about the barge; he indulged in constant memories of Katie, looked at himself in her mirror. But in your gentle hands, he forgot about the boring reality.

That meeting happened by chance, Joe will always remember it: that evening, when their barge was passing by a small town, he decided to go to a bar, where he met you among fat, sweaty and working men. He was indecisive, didn't want to get acquainted, but the next time, Joe was sure that fate, in which he didn't believe, brought you together for a reason — he didn't know that a woman like you could do business with people like Ella. In your apartment he will be the owner, it is better not to leave him alone in the rooms: he will immediately start touching the bed linen, sniffing clothes.

Every day his behavior will become more and more possessive — since then he keeps a small photo of you in his wallet, talks about the future, without questioning your presence in it. Joe cleverly penetrates into your life with a charming smile, quick sex and risky actions. His clothes are smelled of cigarettes, and his speech is beautifully laid out before you. Yes, just don't make him angry — his voice immediately transforms into a serious, threatening one.

"Isn't it for my fearless rebel eyes that you fell in love with me, honey?”

***

Stephen Wilson — stalking, obsessive, dependent, jealous, delusional and protective yandere.

Lost, crippled by fate and a wife who took away the most valuable thing he had — a daughter, Stephen did not believe in love, did not believe in people, did not believe in himself. Why did he exist if he was a weak-willed doll and only followed the instructions of his superiors? Why did he live if absolutely nothing kept him in this black world? Neither work, nor family, nor own mind. Eternally sad misty eyes, calm anxious face and self-loathing, constant regrets that he did not save his daughter, did not take her away. Stephen really didn't make sense, he was a lifeless robot until he met you — the person who supported him in a difficult moment.

That meeting in the cafe was sudden and since then he goes there every day, watches you, takes pictures, practically lives in the institution. Stephen watches you with a slight smile, watching your gentle and quick movements, soft gait and conversations about everything and nothing. It's like an electric shock goes through him, and time stops when he touches your hand in an attempt to pick up a mug — which inevitably spills on the floor, and immediately runs to help. He is afraid to talk to you, forces himself through force and does not regret when he manages to find out your phone number.

You are his angel, his guardian, his savior. You have no idea, you don't know anything about him, but he knows everything about you; Stephen sets up hidden cameras, stays up at night and looks at you, protects you; you seem like an ideal mother to him and he won't let strangers touch you. He gets jealous when you talk to unknown guys in a cafe, club — in anger, he squeezes your photos hung on the walls of the house, and, pressing the pedal to the floor, goes to guys; Stephen will kill anyone who dares to try to take you away from him. During sleep, on a dark night, he will put a ring on your finger as a sign, a symbol — now you are one, as husband and wife, and nothing will be able to convince him.

"I almost went crazy after my wife left... You're the only thing I have.”

***

Perry MacKendrick — protective, jealous, loyal and dependent yandere.

He told everyone that he had no imagination, had no interest — this affected his profession, his teaching of poetics, when he carefully, almost under a microscope, studied art. Perry tried to find beauty in the simple, in ordinary recreation, museums, theaters, but almost did not experience feelings. Easily succumbing to adventures, he did not expect that he would succumb to the charms of his own student — you. He made his heart fall asleep, stop beating, be comforted, but it continued to roar in his ears, roaring like the sea.

Since you started attending his lectures, Perry's world has been painted in bright colors again, children's colors. He began to smile fervently at lectures, joking. A gentleman, a noble man, a professor —whatever you called him, with whom you compared him; he also had the imprudence to compare you with Fofanov's poems, constantly saying: a great poet, an impressionist who conveyed the moment.

Sometimes wilfully cheerful, sometimes sullen, absent-minded, wild or full of secret thoughts — he saw through the poet. Perry awkwardly approaches you, awkwardly starts conversations, and quickly realizes that the real meaning of life is in front of him. Poetics is not his destiny, was love real? She saved, she wrapped in sweet dreams and soft blankets, helped. Perry painfully understands the age difference, thinks to himself with hatred that you will not love him; does anyone need a lonely man abandoned by his wife? He humbles himself, but deep down in his soul he continues to wish, to reflect — is this really the ending?

"And there, love, will we go for many a choir is singing now where Love did sometime go.”

***

Andy — jealous, dependent and soft yandere.

There was nothing good in his life for many years, funny moments were erased by sad and harsh ones. Every day Andy woke up hoping for luck, but it never happened; she turned face to everyone, but not to him. Everything was just beginning with the mine, failures were already waiting for him on the way, when that day she entered the rehearsal room, slamming the door loudly. You spoke clearly, you said that you would be able to stand up, break through on top, defend the mine, and it seemed to Andy that perhaps all was not lost — for the mine, for the city, for the fucking workers and for him.

Andy didn't understand why he hadn't noticed you before; why were you perceived only as a loyal friend and nothing more? After all, it was as if you did everything for him — went to a performance with him, played the baritone since childhood, shared nights with walks around the city and memories of a carefree past; for God's sake, you even had a tattoo on your arm in common! And the guys from the orchestra, and even Danny himself was constantly teasing Andy about your relationship.

Since then, Andy has been staring at you more and more often when you play, carefully look at the notes. He invites you to a cafe, this time meaning not just a friendly get — together, but a date - he smiles fervently like a child, pays for you and you walk again at night. Andy dreams of confessing to you, but accustomed to hiding feelings, he can't; despite the fact that it doesn't work to ignore flirting from guys, and he snaps at them, screams, gets jealous. He likes it when you stroke his hair, lie on the made-up bed for a long time and look at the ceiling. He dreams of you and is sure that his wish will come true: after a successful performance in London, he makes you an offer — an offer right in front of the whole orchestra. And you, he is sure, will not dare to refuse him.

"I didn't notice you, didn't appreciate your support and didn't see the good, so will you let me improve?”

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kneamet · 2 years

Note

Hi hi hi :D I loved my beautiful madness, by the way <3 I'm not sure if i could request again but can i put in another request but this time it's for Obi-Wan Kenobi or Patrick Mckenna? I had this idea from listening to the song Meant to be yours and it made me think of two ideas: a. Sith!Obi-Wan hunting down Jedi Knight!Reader as she hides during order 66, but then Obi-Wan starts professing his feelings for the reader in a very very twisted way (The lyric i based this idea from was "You were meant to be mine, i am all that you need! You cut open my heart, [you] can't just leave me to bleed!") There could be two endings to it (it's up to you if you want to add this part in hihi) 1. Reader comes out of hiding and willingly surrenders to Obi-Wan, something happens that makes the reader give in to the dark side (can be the obsessive joy that comes from Obi-Wan, or can be a short kiss) 2. Reader manages to make Obi-Wan snap and he accidentally *ahem* kills the reader; Obi-Wan has to live with the guilt of losing his love for the rest of his life AND b, Patrick and reader are dating (well, in Patrick's perspective he and the reader are dating), but then the Reader says she wants to separate herself from him, which angers Patrick and scares the reader into staying with him (Based on the lyric "You toss me out like i was trash, for that, you should be dead) and then it ends with Patrick just trying to calm the reader down from his outburst Hehe thanks so much!

The stars all belong to the Gods

Trigger Warning: angst, fear, yandere, obsession

Word Count: 2345

Character: sith!obi-wan kenobi/reader

Summary: Death could not be denied, death could not be avoided; Obi-Wan was death. Frightened by his own power, turned to the dark side, fell under the power of Darth Sidious, he was lost. Obi-Wan was mired in darkness, wrapped in the thinnest threads of madness, but he never forgot about you. The distant stars fell under his tears when he, unable to touch, watched you.

When Obi-Wan rose, the stars lit up in the sky. A great Jedi who lost a master at a young age, fought a Sith, did not succumb to the dark side — there were legends about Obi-Wan in the temple. And while the adult Jedi were whispering about him, the younglings were inspired by his story until they learned the terrible news — their revered symbol turned to the dark side, betrayed the codex and thrust a lightsaber into a student on a fiery Mustafar. When Obi-Wan fell, the only thing you felt was emptiness. An all-consuming, all-encompassing, dreary emptiness. The words struck you like thunder, and while the master was leaving, you looked at the floor in an eclipse, did not believe.

Old acquaintances, padawans with a forbidden connection, you did not hide secrets from each other, trusted each other, supported each other. Even when Obi-Wan had a student, even when there were moments of sadness and separation, you always knew: you have him, he has you — and your forbidden bond is one. Bitter nights, as soon as the walls were cold, pressed, and the dream was the worst nightmare, he came to you, saved you from a fictional villain and hugged, kissed the top of your head with weathered lips. His big rough hands stroked back, and his head lay on his shoulder — and the rest of the dream passed.

You swear when the sand of Tatooine winds in your squinting eyes, leaving grains of sand in the folds of your nondescript clothes. Boots tread on hard sand. The house — the cave, to tell the truth — in which you live was far from the city and all thanks to Order 66; an order that changed your entire former life. Sighing, you look down. There is very little time left before home and your day repeats itself from time to time: dawn is the beginning of wakefulness, day is work, sunset is sleep.

You had the fate of a martyr, and it was unclear why you continue to exist — to create or destroy? How many deaths were on your hands — and it doesn't matter, Sith, civilians — how many destroyed houses, broken destinies. How many children... Victims of your stupidity, naivety! disbelief that Obi-Wan could betray the rules, the Council, and you. His ashen body — which was in peacetime, your time, glowing, freckled — burned to scars.

Deprived of all the benefits, ruined by your own aspirations, stopped by the masters, you exiled yourself, hid in the darkness of darkness, having no light. The Jedi are gone, life is over. Reproaching yourself, eating your soul and heart with memories of poor children, you had to hide on Tatooine, in a world of sand and sadness, forgotten ideas and people. The sun was your eternal companion, withstood all the aching pain, absorbed doubts and worries, disturbed the heart.

The Sith became the lords of thoughts; seized power, possessed minds, exterminated former Jedi. There were quite a few rumors about one of the most formidable Sith — Darth Lant, famous for his elegant cruelty, exhaustion and seductive voice. He was a fallen Jedi, General Kenobi, Obi-Wan Kenobi, your Obi. He forgot everything, burned fiercely and left half-ruined cities in ashes behind him, but succumbed to the influence of your charms, gently and menacingly, to the point of trembling, whispering words of love and gently caressing.

His straw-colored hair has become stiff, long, and his hands are always wearing gloves. Obi-Wan came to you in your dreams, talked with the intonation of approaching danger and continued to talk about meeting soon. He, like the white knight, saved you from terrible monsters — which he was — and began to attack you with special pleasure. It was a shame to admit it, but the old, such familiar movements brought back the lost dignity and excitement, brought out of the terrifying confusion and pain in which the heart had been fully immersed for the last two years, and you again recalled those carefree days with little Kenobi.

He directed dreams, created them for you and built castles in the air. He came up to you with a grin, took advantage of confusion and defenselessness: he walked around from the side of the leading hand and put a sword to his throat. He enjoyed, he rejoiced, played like a child. He is your death, your time, your space, your pain. And he will be your executioner.

Your door creaks, and you immediately feel something wrong. Straining your gut, connecting with the Force — I am one with the Force — you inspect a familiar house: a bed, a carpet, wooden cabinets and a wardrobe. Your hands sweat, breathing slows down when you forcefully hear the world you know, a familiar personality, a favorite whisper. Clenching your teeth, you squeeze your lips and want to rush to the closet, but you stood there, as if chained... or someone else's the Force.

"Oh, darling, you have no idea what it's like to see you alive and completely at my mercy," a voice murmured from behind. There was a rustling, incomprehensible sounds. Obi-Wan was coming out of the second room, smiling and playfully shaking his head. "I've been dreaming about meeting you for a long time... You've changed so much in the last two years... You look different in holograms. I keep every one of them."

Long, matted hair covered an overgrown face, on which there were several scars; one healed scar crossed an eye. The light eyes turned yellow — dangerous, possessed and vindictive, such as only Sith have. The eyes of an animal, not a human. His clothes were dark, malicious, worn, and there were scars on the exposed parts of his body. Having lost his beauty, he remembered the annoying words of the code. It was driven into the head, securely fixed in it.

"I can touch you!" Obi-Wan said with childish delight, touching your face distorted in anger. His hand was shaking, but you could see the broken, bitten nails on his fingers. He barely touched you, as his face immediately transformed: he licked his lips, opened his mouth and looked at you with an incomprehensible shade of sadness. His palm continued to stroke cheek, gently and weightlessly, as if he was afraid to touch you. "You're so real..."

"Let me go, Obi-Wan," you said through the pain in your throat, through Kenobi's the Force, but he only frowned. The fingers pressed lightly on the skin. "Please..."

"Darling, don't, you won't run away. You know perfectly well that I am stronger than you. All the masters talked about it. Or should I remind you of our sparring sessions?"

"I remember them well, Obi-Wan, and I remember that you lost in the last."

"Obi-Wan lost, darling, but Darth Lant didn't lose. I could fight you now," he ran his hand over your shoulder, slowly descending lower and lower, "but I don't see any fun in it. You're weak, but you're so adorable!

It was getting painful to stand. Obi-Wan kept saying something, turning away from you, but his words flew by, didn't seem true. He stood slouched, his shoulders were heavy, his posture tense. Kenobi looked like a king surrounded by disappointed subjects; even now, no matter how much he tried to appear mocking, goofy, menacing, there was universal fatigue in him. Fatigue from the world, fatigue from the laws, fatigue from misunderstanding. Obi-Wan was promised freedom, but he continued to feel the shackles on ankles.

There was a sweet lie in the words of Darth Sidious, which he fell for. The Dark Lord looked solid, scary and creepy; Obi-Wan was kneeling in front of him, humbly lowering his head and whispering words of forgiveness with his lips, he did everything right, he did it for you! it seemed to him few years ago. But death had no love, she was a vile, mocking creature, whose wounds he successfully mashed.

In the dark, where only red and gold existed, Obi-Wan was the hero of the ashes; he emerged from the heat and pain as a champion, but continued to dream of happiness. His life was hectic and not alive, and death remained adamant. For death life was a scar — people don't live, but heal; life is a sore, a burr, a blister or a pimple. Obi-Wan had all the time in the world to retire and subdue his thoughts, but they continued to remain intrusive, free.

In moments of sadness, in moments of pain and despair, the only thing he thought about was you — your face and a sweet smile, a brisk temper and a sharp laugh, warm hugs and eternal criticism of the objectionable. Obi-Wan couldn't do anything with himself; during the fights, the murders, in the midst of the corpses of adults and children, the screams of men and the crying of women, while his trembling hand clutched a lightsaber and his face was sweaty, he thought about you. Tossing and turning on hard beds, getting lost and connecting with you in dreams; and while Darth Lant was conquering the world, Obi-Wan couldn't conquer you. His heart sank every time you turned away from him.

His palate had its throat cut long ago.

The silence was deafening. Obi-Wan, lost in thought to the core, suddenly turned to you with a confused face. His eyes seemed bright again for a couple of seconds, mired in blue and calm, and his face seemed transformed — he seemed young, handsome and yours again. The former Obi, who was not afraid to show love, who overcame madness and doubts; the former Obi-Wan, who loved you, and you loved him. What has changed?

"You... Do you want to come with me?" he was naive, he came up again and touched you. His the Force was weakening, but you continued to stay in place and not move. "I can give you the whole world!" his gaze is soulless and cold, but there is beauty in it; beauty is different, unknown. Frightening beauty. "I'll give you everything you want, I'll give you everything that's left! Just let me love you up close again... Just be mine again, please..."

He was different from what he was in dreams. You looked at him carefully and, like a second, he will fall to his knees in front of you. The rumors that spread from mouth to mouth in the city were not confirmed: in the stories of your friends, sellers in the market, ordinary workers, he appeared in the form of a terrible figure, carrying thousands of deaths, cold and torture. An evil Sith who abandoned the Codex and the Jedi; a big, scary and ironic man for whom life is just entertainment, and demise is a snap of two fingers.

"Obi-Wan, please..."

"No! Why don't you want to listen to me?! What did I do wrong?" he exclaimed, and his eyes watered for a second from the sunlight from the window. There's a damn empty desert there, no souls and only peace. Did he really want this outcome? Why did he serve the Sith? "You were meant to be mine, I am all that you need!"

A second — and something squeezes the neck, something tightens. The body rises up, you try unsuccessfully to grab air with your mouth. The breath disappears, the nose lays, the words are lost and useless. The lower jaw and stomach are shaking, the body is numb. Thousands of moments and memories flash before eyes, millions of images from a past life flash by; a life so happy, serene... That life when you were naive, because you thought you could save a fallen warrior, heal wounds.

The second second — the two of you are lying in his apartment, wrapped in a warm blanket and looking at the dark ceiling. Your hands are tightly clasped, and while Obi-Wan whispers to you sweet passions, stupidities and promises stars, you purse your lips, looking at his face — in his eyes, giving off blue, like water in the purest sea, you selflessly drown. His voice — his alluring, forbidden and such a charming voice — extraordinary.

"You cut my heart! Left me!"

The third second — and Obi-Wan's face is distorted in anger. You take your last breath, it gets dark in your eyes, and your body falls to the dirty floor. You forget yourself, you die, you don't see how Obi-Wan's eyes turn blue again, yours. He runs up to you with an invisible expression, says something, begs for help, tries to lift you up, staggers and wraps his rough hands around you. No, no, no! The thought of death pierces through the heart, empties and almost stops beating; there is a deafening ringing in the ears.

His head bends down, and Obi-Wan touches your body with it — soulless, inanimate... He wants to scream, turn off in the languor of self-immolation, turn back time and change everything. A shaking hand ran through your tangled, clean hair, Obi-Wan hoped that you could feel him, forgive him. He hugged you, throwing the sword far away, and cried.

He kissed your back, and now he inflicted thousands of wounds there. He whispered words of tenderness to you, and now he muttered threats. Beauty remained with you even now, at the moment lost for him, when it is unknown where to move now? and will he be able to forgive himself for this nightmare? Obi-Wan returns to the house and everything is the end of life: he, absorbed and brought up by the darkness, dies, only Darth Lant remains.

Obi-Wan looked at your exhausted body and tried to preserve it. A person had a choice — a choice to love, a choice to die, a choice to be or to be, a choice to keep cold or to burn, but Obi-Wan had no choice. There was no free will. Devoid of love, devoid of emotions, devoid of home and sleep, he gets up by force, grabbing a sword, and looks at you for the last time. Darth Lant pressed his lips together and, looking away, left the cave, leaving behind his fears, his beloved and his choice.

When Obi-Wan fell, the stars cried, died.

and here im back, hooray! @jjeresano-euler, im sorry if there was something wrong and u can always ask for something else and ill write (including your second idea with patrick). i hope you enjoyed it!

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