#Zsaszmask Week

[doks-aux]

Back in October 2020, I was participating in the first and only ZsaszMask Week. In terms of productivity, it was the best writing I think I’ve ever done. I was writing and posting every day, feeling good about what I wrote, and having fun with everyone. The actual writing itself wasn’t too bad either for stuff I was cranking out day-of. Five days in, it was already the most I’d done for any fandom event week, and I was feeling good about my chances of completing it. Even when I was delayed on the 30th by a migraine, I was confident I’d pick up the slack.

Then I started taking my sertraline prescription.

If you were following my main then, you know what a clusterfuck that was. I won’t go into detail. The very abridged and condensed version is my ability to write or even think creatively (I could not even daydream!) went straight down the toilet. I never did finish writing the last two prompts for the event. Things improved after I was switched to fluoxetine, but writing is still a struggle. I’ve only managed a handful of short pieces over the last two years and nothing polished enough by my own standards to be posted to AO3.

But it’s October again. I’ve seen chatter about the ship here and there. And fall is when I feel like writing the most. I’ve tentatively decided to focus on finishing the last two prompts by Halloween. And probably editing the existing ones a little; I saw some verb tense and clarity issues while reading back over them recently. :P

That’s... doable. Yeah. I can maybe do that.

#doc pretends to be a writer #doc's modern life #ZsaszMask Week #ZsaszMask #VicRoman #TallyMask #Zsionisz #doc's fanfiction #doc's terrible horrible no good very bad health

[littleoddwriter]

Hello my amazing and wonderful friend

I have missed your writing so dearly so I'm gonna take advantage of your asks being open right now and request a short college AU fic for Zsaszmask. It can be established relationship with just a look into their life or a first meeting. Write whatever is easiest for you, I will just be happy to read the words you wrote.

Kajahqhqh I'm so bad at sending requests so I hope this makes sense.

Wanna Hate You | Roman Sionis x Victor Zsasz | ZsaszMask

Hello there, my dearest friend! <3 Aw, thank you so much!!! And no worries, you made complete sense, heh. I hope you like what I did with it, thanks for the request, dhjfkhsjk! <3 summary; Victor wants to hate Roman, but finds himself fascinated by the young man. notes; College AU; First Meeting; Mentions of Violence.

Boisterous fake laughter echoed through the hall and into Victor’s dorm room. 

He wanted to hate the guy the loudest laugh belonged to. He tried very hard to hate him. After all, that guy was beyond obnoxious. Victor had every reason to resent him, really.

But something about him just caught his attention. He knew exactly what it was, but that didn’t make it any less confusing to him. 

Roman Sionis. The heir of the Sionis’ legacy and Janus Corp. A spoiled brat that had people gravitate toward him for the simple fact of who his parents were and that he had money. Lots of it. It was all incredibly fake, but Roman entertained them all. He thrived on the attention he got, fake or not. He loved to boss them around, to feel like a God, as they practically kissed the ground he walked on. 

Yet there was something lurking beneath the surface. Roman was like a ticking time bomb, ready to go off at every minor inconvenience or grievance that came his way. Victor was fascinated by that. 

No matter how hard Sionis tried to play the perfect boy with Daddy’s money, making connections at Gotham Academy, he always failed to maintain it completely. 

There was an incident at least once a week, where Roman just lost it and punched somebody in the face, humiliated somebody, harassed those around him, yelled them into submission and fear, or even pulled a knife on them. The list went on. 

At least once a week, Roman snapped. And every time, his parents cleaned up his mess with bribery to keep Roman in college and to keep all those incidents off the records. Every victim was paid off, sometimes never to be seen again. 

As much as he didn’t want to admit it to himself, Victor looked forward to those incidents every day. They were what made college more interesting, what made Roman so fascinating and captivating. They were the only reason Victor couldn’t get himself to hate the guy. 

In fact, Victor often found himself thinking about how he could bring Roman’s next outburst along faster without making himself take the brunt of it. He liked to watch. To see that fire in Roman’s eyes as the mask started to crack and slip and his true self reared its ugly head. 

Part of him felt like it was unfair, though, that he knew so much about Roman and was fascinated by him, only for the other to not even know he existed. 

Victor was pretty good at fading into the background. Usually, that was exactly what he wanted. He didn’t like attention; especially all that fake crap these college kids at Gotham Academy were so very good at. But he started to crave attention from Roman. He wanted and needed it. And it really bothered him that Roman had no idea. 

Victor has been racking his brain, trying to find a good way to introduce himself to Roman, get his attention and keep it. 

As it turned out, Victor fantasised about all the different ways he could go about it for nothing.

___

After a full day of classes, which he all hated and he failed to remember why he went to college in the first place, Victor returned to his dorm room. He didn’t have a roommate, luckily. So, of course he was very surprised to find somebody in his room on that evening.

How Roman got inside was beyond Victor. Maybe he underestimated him. Maybe Roman was really good at picking locks.

He stared at Roman, trying to decide on what to say and how. He couldn’t mess up his chance of finally having Roman’s attention on him.

“Are you mute or something?” Roman asked rudely, crossing his legs one over the other and leaning back in Victor’s desk chair. 

Victor frowned, shaking his head. He hated to admit it, but Roman made him speechless. And he also made him feel exposed, now that his piercing blue eyes looked Victor up and down.

“What’re you doing in my room?” Victor asked back instead. 

“Waiting for you, obviously,” Roman answered, looking around the small room with a disgusted expression, “I’d never set a foot in this sort of mess otherwise.”

“Why?” 

Roman’s eyes snapped back up to Victor’s face. He stared at him for a long moment.

“I’ve noticed you and your little habit,” Roman sneered, “You’re always there when I’m having one of my… moments. Always watching. But instead of appearing to be scared or put off, you just smile. Like I’m entertaining you with my outbursts.”

Victor couldn’t believe what he just heard. Roman actually noticed him? The spoiled brat was more observant than Victor had expected. 

Giving Roman a lopsided smile, Victor responded, “You're very entertaining when you snap. It makes you interesting to me. They all had it coming anyway.”

Roman’s eyes seem to light up at that and he shoots Victor a toothy grin in response, “So you agree. You agree that those fake maggots deserve to be squashed.”

“I do,” Victor nods. “But I don’t get why you hold yourself back so much if you want to put them in their place.” 

“Because of my stupid fucking parents,” Roman groaned, “I’m already on thin fucking ice with my father as it is. He keeps threatening to cut me off and I can’t let that happen.”

“Why not? You’d be free if he did.” Victor’s words were blunt and he could see that Roman was intrigued, but also hated it, since he probably wasn’t used to anyone challenging what he said. At least not like that.

“I know that. But… I don’t think I could handle the humiliation,” Roman said in a whiny voice that - surprisingly - Victor didn’t find annoying.

“You could. With me by your side.”

There was a spark in Roman’s eyes, “Oh? Forward much, aren’t we?”

Victor shrugged. He didn’t care. Not anymore. This was his chance and he’d take it, no matter what.

Tapping his fingers against his thigh, Roman continued, “Well, what do you suggest? I can’t just let myself be cut off without a plan…”

___

Victor wanted to hate Roman the second he heard his annoying, loud fake laughter ring through the dorm halls at Gotham Academy. He wanted to resent him, but instead felt pulled toward him. Roman Sionis was a magnetic field and no one stood a chance when getting too close, least of all Victor. 

Now, twenty years later, Victor couldn’t possibly care less. Roman was his and his alone. 

They both thrived, running their businesses and revelling in their true selves. No more hiding. No more lurking. No more Mommy and Daddy that could ruin all the fun. That was the first thing they had taken care of all those years ago. Roman was much better suited as the head and face of Janus Corp, after all, with Victor by his side.

#as per usual this started to run away from me (esp when i write for them... i do not have control then) #roman sionis #victor zsasz #zsaszmask #fanfiction

[goldenswitchbladee]

Had a weeks break from writing but I'm back on track rn do requests are back open for zsaszmask:)

#zsaszmask #roman sionis #victor zsasz #birds of prey

[herecomesnaya]

Pssst just wanted to say thanks for the zsaszmask brainrot bc I just reread if eve ain't in your garden and now I won't be shutting up about them for at least a week so thank you <3

oh my god the zsaszmask brainrot is so fucking real I've been all about it lately, god I wish there was a discord server or something where I could accost all of you with my shitty art and writing

until then, enjoy my transmasc Zsasz bs because it's the dank shit

#ask #fic chatter #zsaszmask #vicroman #milo-is-queer

[mashimero]

Zsaszmask Week Day 1: Pumpkin

#DC Comics #DCEU #Birds of Prey (2020) #Victor Zsasz #Roman Sionis #Zsaszmask #Zsaszmask Week #fanart

[blackmasksmutt]

ZsaszMask Week YAY!!

This is for day 4 (costume)

Victor is Jason Voorhees because it’s a minimum effort costume and a slasher classic. (Blood may or may not be genuine...)

Roman is the Phantom from Phantom of the Opera. It’s classy and plays into Roman’s love for masks (which may or may not have played a part in Victor’s choice of costume as well.)

#birds of prey and the fantabulous emencipation of one harley quinn #birds of prey #bop #victor zsasz #zsasz #roman sionis #black mask #zsaszmask #ZsaszMask week #my art

[zsaszattack]

Yes! Please give us your silly Victor head canons!

Alright. Yall asked for em. Sorry I took so long on this. 

My more... Sillier and random headcanons:

The man cannot cook for shit. He can make a nice toast but that’s about it. Then somehow he breaks the toaster. No one knows how he broke it just by making toast for god’s sake, but he did. He broke the toaster. Never let this man cook for you. It’s a disaster waiting to happen, okay? He can kill a man no problem but cooking? Don’t count on it. This is why he lives on eating foods you don’t have to cook. Unless someone cooks for him.

Like a dog, he has sensitive smell and hearing. Always has. He absolutely hates being in the club but that’s just his job so he has to deal with it. The mixture of cologne and perfumes are the worst for him. That with the loud music? Not the best combo. Once again though, it’s his job. And he’ll deal with it for Roman. Anything for Roman.

He can do fancy tricks with butterfly switchblades. He always plays with a knife in hand. Flipping it around, throwing it in the air and catching it by the handle. He is surprisingly really talented with them, despite everything.

He can also throw a knife bullseye on a dart board. First time he did that was over a bet with Roman and Roman never bet against him again because Victor proved him wrong. So wrong.

He once brought in a lost animal and wanted to keep it. Roman disagreed at first but started to like them. Victor got jealous and left it in a random pet store.  “Where did they go?” ... “Oh they must have ran away.” 

Victor can live off simple foods like toast easy. He doesn’t need to eat much at all. Even plain bread. Roman catching him just eating a plain slice of bread and disappointment washes over him.

#replies #victor zsasz #zsasz #victor zsasz headcanons #zsaszmask headcanons #// I've been starin at this ask for like a week and been too busy #Sorry it took so bloody long

[luminnara]

The Dismemberment Song | BOP Victor Zsasz x Reader | 18+

Fandom: Birds of Prey

Words: 3,791

Summary: Zsasz takes a liking to one of the burlesque dancers at Roman’s club.

PART ONE | PART TWO |

WARNINGS: graphic blood/gore/violence, reader may or may not torture and murder a guy, alcohol, all that good Gotham stuff, reader is kinda fucked up

Seriously, don’t read this if you don’t like blood

Based on The Dismemberment Song by Blue Kid! 

This is written as a kinda vague fem!reader, but if there’s interest I can always write alternate versions for different genders, more specific body/personality types, or whatever else might tickle your fancy! Just hit up my ask box!

Requests are open!! Pls, I really wanna write more Zsasz or Zsaszmask x reader, gimme ideas!

The Black Mask was a club that boasted only the best of the best. Top shelf booze, luxurious furnishings, and entertainers that Gotham’s other club owners wished they could get their hands on all came together to form the East End’s trendiest spot. You were lucky enough to be one of those very entertainers, and you had been performing onstage at Roman’s club ever since one of his goons saw you dancing at another spot across town. Roman Sionis had bought you easily, promising a good nightly wage and all the free drinks you could stomach, and a few years later, you were still enjoying the nice gig at the Black Mask. 

Most nights were the same; you showed up around seven, hung around in the dressing room with the others while you all got ready, and enjoyed a drink or two before your first number. You were always in the chorus, not that you really minded--Roman paid you more than enough to keep you happy, even though you knew the stars got more. Girls who did solo numbers, especially if they could sing, those were Mr. Sionis’s favorites. You never really expected to achieve that kind of status, not when people like Dinah Lance were around and holding his attention, so when Roman pulled you aside one night to tell you that he wanted to give you the chance to do your own routine, you nearly dropped your drink. 

“Full creative control,” he said, a hand resting at the small of your back as you gaped at him. 

“I--what?” you managed to choke out. “I-I mean, thank you, Mr. Sionis, really--”

“Please,” he chuckled. “Call me Roman.”

“Thank you, Roman,” you smiled, swallowing down your fear. “I won’t disappoint you, I swear.” 

“I know you won’t, doll.” he motioned for someone to bring him a drink. “Full creative control, like I said. I want to see what’s swirling around in that pretty mind of yours. Put some heart into it for me, k doll?”

You nodded. “You got it, boss.”

He grinned, hugging you to his side and pressing a kiss against your temple like he did with all the girls he liked. “Looking forward to it, beautiful.”

He let you go, turning to leave, and Zsasz slunk after him, but not before casting you an almost annoyed look. 

“Don’t disappoint,” he teased, whistling low before he followed his boss. 

You gulped. You were sure he wouldn’t mind peeling your face off, but you rather preferred staying alive.

“I won’t!” you called after him bravely. 

He glanced at you over his shoulder, his eyes practically boring into you as if were sizing you up. He thought you were just some prissy little girl, didn’t he? Just like Roman, just like everybody else. But you would show them. They wanted to see what kind of shit really ate at your brain? Oh, you’d give them a nice little glimpse.

And so, only a couple shorts weeks later, here you were, getting ready in the dressing room like usual, only you were far more nervous than you had been for any other shift. You had busted your ass getting everything ready, even taking a few nights off to work twice as hard on what you hoped would be a good debut. You had given the band their sheet music, you had learned your lyrics inside and out (because you were absolutely determined to go that extra mile for Roman Sionis and show him that not only could you prance around onstage, but you could sing, too), and you had spent hours upon hours hand-decorating an old corset and lingerie set you had sitting around. Roman wanted this to come from the heart, he wanted a passion project, and you were gonna give it to him. 

You just had to pray that he was in the right mood to enjoy it.

“Think you’re good to go, my love,” the house mom said as she finished with your hair. 

You stared at yourself in the mirror. So far, so good...your hair was in big barrel curls, still warm to the touch as your house mom gave it a couple more passes with the hairspray for good measure. 

“You sure I don’t need--”

“You’re gonna knock ‘em dead,” she interrupted, retreating to her usual chair. 

You kept staring at your reflection. “Do you think it’s too much? I mean...”

She laughed loudly. “Hon, this is Gotham. There’s no such thing as too much.”

Glancing down at your outfit, you weren’t so sure. “But...”

“But nothing. Now go on, go show Roman why he stays in business.”

You stood on shaky legs, nodding to her as you made your way towards the door. “R-right.”

“Break a leg,” she called after you. 

All you could do was nod. You knew what you were doing. You had practiced for hours every day to get ready for this. With a deep breath, you made your way down the hall leading to stage, shaking your hands out as you stood in the wings. You could do this. You were ready.

As soon as your stage name was announced, you stepped out, ruby encrusted heels clicking against the wooden floorboards. The lights were harsh, the crowd quiet as you came out to face them. The stage was set for you, a few props already waiting for you as you stood there, ready for the music to start.

Then, the band began playing, and you sprang into action.

“Hold still, my sweet. I’m tryin to measure the space between your molar and your jaw...” You sang, lunging forward to grab the medical-grade calipers sitting in a metal bucket for you. You trailed them down over your victim’s jaw, smiling as you did so. “...This caliper, no cause for fear. No it...it doesn’t hurt, it only helps me measure how much skin you have...”

Across the club, Zsasz looked up. He was standing near Roman, his boss sitting in a booth while he chatted with some business associates. He was far more interested in you than their conversation, his dark eyes tracking you as you moved across the stage. He was absolutely enthralled by your outfit, your tightly-laced corset covered in blood red rhinestones that glimmered under the stage lights, your matching bra and thong shining just as brightly. You looked like you were covered in blood, the gems catching his eye in a way he hadn’t expected. 

“--and the topmost layer of fat, but I won’t make an incision till you’re nice and numb...” There was an operating table on the stage, where one of Roman’s lowest-ranking goons was tied down. If Zsasz remembered correctly, this guy had fucked up pretty monumentally recently, so seeing him strapped down and struggling brought a grin to his face.

You ran over to the man, the crowd laughing as you leaned across him. “...Oh, and laughing gas can be so much fun, please don’t doubt my decision...”

The scene you had set was both comedic and sexual. In all honesty, Zsasz hadn’t expected you to do anything like this; you were a chorus girl, someone he had thought would go for something overdone and classic. Maybe some old school stupid, annoying, Singin In The Rain type shit, yet there you were, dressed in an outfit that was obviously meant to emulate dripping blood while you flitted around a man on a gurney. 

Zsasz couldn’t look away. 

“This’ll be ooh, this’ll be ahh, this’ll be absolutely whee!” you squealed, teasingly pressing your sawblade to the goon’s torso. “This’ll be nice, this’ll be neat and bring you closer to me...”

You grabbed the goon as he struggled against his restraints, holding him down. Zsasz was sure the man was in on your little number, and he thought it was cute; you were pretending to be some sort of killer, maybe trying to appeal to Roman’s face peely urges. Maybe you were trying to make the boss happy by scaring his lackey like this.

“So don’t you squirm, don't you fret, I'm not gonna hurt you...yet.” You grinned, leaning down before you shoved the man’s face to the side, letting him go as you ran back across the stage. “I just feel the need to be gettin’ a little of you, a lot of blood lettin’, I know the sensation you’re probably dreading...”

You pranced back to the gurney, moving with that little extra theatrical oomph that made everyone think you were just playing. You smiled as they clapped and laughed loudly. They would figure it out soon enough. 

“Cutting you up will be so refreshing for me...” you cooed, discarding the calipers in favor of a scalpel. You traced it down the goon’s bare chest, a little line of blood following the blade as it pierced his flesh. 

He let out a scream, just as you hoped he would, and you gave his little table a shove, sending it wheeling a short distance away. 

“Now don’t you cry,” You sang, “And don’t call Miriam, she’s my alibi...oh let me check your toes out!” You picked up a set of pliers, taking hold of his big toe. “Aren’t your toenails cute?” you grabbed one and pulled, the goon screaming as you removed the nail, leaving a bloody pulp behind. “...and red is such a lovely color on you!” you leaned down in his face, grabbing the opposite foot’s big toenail and yanking. “...But you won’t be needing those!”

Roman began clapping, giving a loud “Whoo!”  as he watched you. He had no idea that when you had asked him for the name of his least favorite henchman, this would be the reason. Now, watching the man suffer onstage in front of everyone while you were dancing around him in six inch heels and a scandalously skimpy outfit, Sionis was more than entertained. He was impressed, absolutely astounding by the cruelty his little burlesque dancer held inside of her. He couldn’t have hoped for more. 

“When you’ve got no knees!” you sang, dropping your weapons in favorite of a crowbar. “...Or shins, or pinky fingers, or arteries....”

You brought your weapon down on each of the man’s legs, somehow still managing to poise yourself perfectly as you did so. You gave him a few good whacks, then dropped the bar, leaning down to pick a knife up out of the bucket and run it over his hands teasingly. 

“...so hold still while I remove them!” you trilled. 

The man tried to sit up, struggling against his restraints, but you shoved him back down with a sweet smile. 

“...Oh, and don’t fight back,” you sang, hopping up to sit next to him. “I think you’ll find you’re missing the point, with that.”

Meanwhile, Victor Zsasz was grinning, showing off his gold teeth while he watched you. He kept a close eye on your hips as they swayed, his trained eyes following your ass as it moved across the stage. Were you really carving a man up right then and there? He wanted it to be true. He wanted to smell the overwhelming tang of blood as you plunged a knife into your victim. But he was too far away, and so he had to settle for watching instead. 

Your victim tried to scream, and you shoved his head to the side playfully. 

“That’s enough outta you!” you sang, holding his jaw tightly.

As you repeated your chorus, your knife returned to the man’s flesh and he grunted in pain, pleading to an audience that didn’t care about him. The Black Mask was a fucked up place for fucked up people, no matter how trendy it was, and nobody in the audience was going to protest when someone was torn apart onstage. Besides, Roman Sionis was far too powerful for the GCPD to go after, and as you heard him laughing loudly in the audience, you had a pretty good feeling that he wasn’t going to send anyone after you for carving somebody up in a way that only you could.

You kept going, peeling your underbust corset off with the same grace and dexterity that Zsasz peeled faces with. As you stood in only your bra, thong, garters and stockings, you felt exhilarated, powerful, as if you had been born to cur people up in front of an audience. 

It’s not like this was your first time chopping a body up, anyways; there was a reason you had to move to Gotham and get a new gig, after all.

Zsasz watched you. In fact, his eyes were glued to you, even when Roman walked away to chat with a few mob bosses in a nearby booth. Were you seriously killing this man right in front of everyone? Victor didn’t necessarily care for all the theatrics, but he could appreciate how seriously you took you took your craft, and he had to admit, he was surprised that this was what you had come up with when Roman told you to give him something good.

“‘Cause I’m all out of hurt, you’ve used up all I’ve got,” you taunted, sneering down at your victim as you brought your saw down on his leg. “So I’m chopping you up and still coming up squat! If I want it to bleed, I’ll just roll up my sleeve and saw and saw and saw...”

The blade cut back and forth, and Zsasz’s eyes followed it. Blood was spurting up, drenching your arms as if you were wearing red opera gloves. 

“And saw, and saw, and saw, and saw....”

“Zsasz, can you believe this?” Roman asked, leaning towards him.

“No, boss,” Zsasz said with a little grin, shaking his head. 

“She’s good. We may have to give her a new job...”

You paused, giving your victim a break as you tossed the saw back into the bucket, drops of blood spattering across the stage as you pulled out a large butcher knife. Before it could touch Roman’s henchman, you used it to flick open the clasp on your bra, tossing the thin little piece of lingerie out into the crowd. You didn’t really care where it went; you were too busy enjoying yourself. 

“This’ll be ooh, this’ll be ahh, this’ll be absolutely whee,” you purred, trailing the blade down the side of the man’s face. “This’ll be nice, this’ll be neat and bring you closer to me...”

“So don’t you squirm, don’t you fret, I’m not gonna hurt you, oh no, no, no, not...yet.” you plunged your blade into his chest, between two of his ribs, not close enough to knick his heart but definitely deep enough to cause him immense pain despite all the adrenaline that was sure to be running through his system now.

You pulled the knife back out, blood dripping off the metal blade as you held it tightly and pranced back across the stage. “I just feel the need to be gettin’ a little of you, a lot of bloodletting, I know the sensation you’re probably dreading but there’s one thing you’re forgetting...”

Turning back to him, you brought the blade to his throat, and in the crowd, Zsasz’s eyes lit up. He was delighted. He was enthralled. His pants were getting a little tight, but whatever. The rest of the audience was gazing up at you with wonder, disgust, amusement...but Zsasz was absolutely admiring the way you so confidently played with your victim. The theatrics were starting to grow on him, he decided, and he wanted nothing more than to go right up there and lick all that blood off your face.

“There’s nothing like the thrill of a shredding,” you sang, almost snarling, “but this is no orthodox beheading...”

You destroyed the man on the gurney, carving through him, drenching yourself in blood in an almost comical way. 

“Cutting you up,” you sang as you made an absolute mess. “Cutting you up...”

“Cutting you up is gonna be....” you finally stepped back, catching your breath as the song slowed. “...so refreshing for me.”

As your routine finished, you took a little bow, still holding the knife as you crossed your ankles and bent at the waist in a delightfully fancy gesture. The man on the gurney was very much dead, blood dripping down onto the stage, and the audience was still eating up every second of it. You could hear Roman cheering, and as you spotted him standing there amidst the crowd with Zsasz at his side, you blew them both a little kiss. 

“How about that?” you heard Roman’s voice boom above the clapping as you strode offstage. “I would call for an encore, but unfortunately, I think we’d need a new victim....”

Your head was still abuzz with the rush of killing, and you walked back to the dressing room in a daze. You were vaguely aware of Dinah Lance wrinkling her nose as you passed her, but you didn’t pay her any mind. Absolutely nothing could kill your good mood now. 

“Well?” the house mom asked as you made your way to your mirror. “Sounds like it went well, judging by those cheers...”

You smiled and hummed to yourself, nodding as you reached for something to clean your face with. You were going to need an entire shower to get all this blood off yourself. 

“Told you.” the house mom snorted a laugh. 

“He loved it,” you grinned. 

She shook her head in amusement. “You are one fucked up girl, I’ll tell you that much.”

“That’s showbiz, baby,” you joked, raising a towel to start working at wiping your face. 

“Oh, pussycat?” a singsong voice made you freeze. 

You could see Zsasz in the mirror. 

He was leaning in the doorway, smirking as he watched you. “Boss wants to talk.”

You paled. Had you fucked up after all? Did Roman get his shits and giggles and now planned on having Zsasz peel your face off? Sionis was infamous for his fickle moods. You’d watched him have plenty of people dragged off into back rooms just for speaking at the wrong time, and you had just done way worse than interrupt him. 

 You gawked at Zsasz, still staring at his reflection. What were you supposed to do? Run? He was blocking the only door, and there was no way you’d be able to get past him. You had no choice but to follow him to Roman. 

“O-Okay,” you managed to stammer out, finally turning towards him. “Lead the way.”

“Might want this.” he held up the bra you had tossed, twirling the strap around his finger while he gave you a smile that showed off his gold teeth.

“Give me that!” you snapped, rushing towards him.

“Ah.” he held it above his head, leering down at you. “Think I like this view more...”

“Zsasz!” you protested, scrambling against his chest and practically trying to claw your way up him to get your lingerie. 

He froze. He finally smelled the metallic tang of all that blood covering you, and coupled with the feeling of your tits against his chest...oh, he was so fucked. 

When he dropped the bra, you grabbed it from him, tossing it back to your mirror and moving to pick up a silky red robe off a nearby hook. You shrugged it on, tying it shut while Zsasz cleared his throat and offered you his arm. 

“Such a gentleman,” you sneered, taking it anyways. 

“When I want to be.” his voice was low and rough, as if his vocal chords were scraping against each other with every syllable. 

You looked up at him, a bit dumbfounded, as he led you out into the club once more. The band was playing as a few people cleaned up the carnage you had left behind, the bar’s patrons all chatting and drinking again. It was as if nothing had even happened and they hadn’t just watched a man be torn apart onstage a few minutes prior. 

Zsasz took you to Roman, the crowd parting before the two of you easily. Sionis was sitting in his favorite booth, sipping his drink and laughing, still seeming to be in a very good mood.

“Ah, there she is!” He said when he saw you, standing up and spreading his arms.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” You asked nervously as Zsasz let you go.

“Yes, yes, I had Mr. Zsasz grab you so that I could congratulate you on a thrilling performance.”

You stared at him. “You liked it?”

“Liked it? I loved it, darling! A bit messy for my tastes, but a lovely show, truly, though I suspect our dear Mr. Zsasz here wishes he could have been the one to take care of your victim. Isn’t that right, Zsasz?”

You glanced up at Zsasz. He grunted, not necessarily in agreement. He didn’t hate watching your performance by any means, and as much as he enjoyed helping little birds fly away from the world, he rather enjoyed watching you do it, too. 

“I’m glad, Mr. Sionis,” you said. 

“I told you, call me Roman.” he took a sip of his drink. “You know, normally, I don’t enjoy it when someone kills the people that belong to me, but I must admit, you certainly have a way with a knife.”

“I would have asked your permission, but I didn’t want to ruin the surprise.” you gulped. 

“And what a lovely surprise it was!” Roman laughed loudly. “You’re very talented...in fact, how’d you like a promotion? Yes? Perfect, perfect! No, no, don’t shake my hand, you’re...well, you’re covered in blood. Quite frankly, it’s disgusting.” He snapped his fingers. “Mr. Zsasz, take her up to the penthouse so she can clean up, I don’t want all this blood getting on the new carpeting in here.”

“Oh, Mr. Sio--Roman,” you cleared your throat, “I can use the shower in the dressing room, really, it’s no trouble--”

“Nonsense, nonsense.” he waved you away. “You’re part of the team now, aren’t you? Besides, a job well done deserves some sort of reward. Zsasz will show you upstairs. Don’t worry, he’s completely harmless.”

As Zsasz put a hand on your lower back, you had your doubts. Harmless wasn’t really a word you would choose to describe Roman’s right hand man. 

“Come on, princess.” Zsasz purred, guiding you through the crowd before you had much of a chance to protest. 

He took you to the elevator in the corner, the bouncer standing guard in front of it stepping aside with a nod. The man hit the up button, and soon, you were pressed up against Zsasz in the small space, on your way up to Roman’s spacious penthouse. 

#victor zsasz x reader #zsasz x reader #victor zsasz #bop zsasz #birds of prey zsasz #birds of prey imagine #birds of prey x reader #birds of prey #dceu #dceu imagine #dc imagines #dc imagine #dc x reader #gotham #chris messina imagine

[inkdrawndreamer]

Next time you're doing headcanons, how 'bout some ZsaszMask as parents? Pretty please?

Abso-fucking-lutely (these have been sitting in my drafts for weeks I'm so sorry 😣). I'll be doing some for BoP and some for Batwoman because damn it, CW Zsasz is great and I need to see more of him. Here we go:

Birds of Prey! Zsaszmask as parents

•Contrary to what people would think, Victor is the slightly more responsible parent. He is better at staying calm while corralling a child than Roman is. He also tends to focus more on the consequences of his kid's actions than on his own feelings about those actions.

•Make no mistake, one or both of these men will at some point show up to a crime scene with a child in tow. Sure, they won't let the kid see the more brutal bits, but that child will still be present. Getting a sitter is hard, okay?

•Roman shows immense self-control in not treating his child like a personal dress-up doll, because his own mother did that to him and he fucking hated it. The closest he allows himself to get to that with his own kid is to take them shopping and help build a wardrobe around what they pick.

•Neither of them are very strict disciplinarians, mostly just 'cause they wouldn't know what to do. Roman yells and does the whole "go to your room" shtick, but he doesn't insult the kid. If they do something dangerous and scare him he might call them stupid, but apologize after. He can be childish the way he can with other adults, but his kid is the only other person he is sincerely remorseful toward besides Victor. Victor tends to talk things out with the kid more, and is generally harder to make angry.

•Victor is his kid's main bodyguard when they're out and about. There will sometimes be other bodyguards who look after them, but Victor does it as often as he can. He's more comfortable being the one looking out for them.

•If his kid ever asks about his scars, Victor will tell them that each one was a person whose soul he "freed" when he killed them. Hearing about his scars becomes one of their favorite pastimes.

•Reading bedtime stories to his kid slowly grows on Roman. At first he feels awkward doing it, but after a while, it becomes a nice way to wind down at the end of the day when he's tired.

CW! Zsaszmask as parents

•These two are significantly more prepared for being parents than their Birds of Prey counterparts, Roman more so than Victor.

•Roman wasn't entirely sold on being a dad before Circe was born, but once he had her, he was smitten. He didn't always get to spend as much time with her as he wanted, but he was glad for any quality time they got.

•Roman is the type to make lunches and leave little notes for his kid to take to school. He did it all the time with Circe. He can cook pretty well, but he's so busy that it becomes more personal when he takes the time to make something for his kid.

•Victor is more of the cool stepdad type, better at showing the kid a fun time than enforcing the rules or dealing with a meltdown. He can get frustrated sometimes, but he doesn't yell at the kid unless they do something dangerous. He's good at figuring out when to be comforting and when to leave the kid to their own devices for a while.

•Roman is the type to let his kid practice makeup on him and call it "quality control". He can do theirs for them too if the want it.

#zsaszmask #roman sionis #black mask #victor zsasz #birds of prey #batman #dc #batwoman #circe sionis #swearing #headcanons #shipping #fluff #ask posts #doktorgirlfriend #Clover muses

[doks-aux]

ZsaszMask Week Day 1: Pumpkin

Happy ZsaszMask Week the First! Many thanks to @mashimero for putting this together. I’m gonna do my best to stay on schedule and post something every day.

Kicking things off with some seasonally appropriate trauma set in The Arkham Home For Troubled Youth AU.  Features kids swearing, background Hattercrow, violence done to innocent pumpkins, and very indirect references to child abuse, dead parents, and self-harm.

Also on AO3.

--

“How’re you not excited for Halloween?”

Roman scowled at Jon across a table strewn with several pumpkins and the contents of just as many pumpkin-carving kits. “Every day is Halloween in this sickhouse.”

“Yeah, it’s great,” the taller boy grinned, thoughtfully sorting through the various jack-o’-lantern patterns. “But this is real Halloween. I never got t’ have real Halloween before. Granny always said it was the Devil’s work. Oh! Look at this one!”

Jon grabbed a pattern of a wide, grinning cat face and held it in front of his own. “Jervis’ll like this.”

“Well, it’s stupid,” Roman said. “So probably.”

“Don’ be a dick,” Jon scoffed, lowering the paper. “I wan’ him to have a good time. I don’ think they even have Halloween in England.” He set the cat face carefully to the side and went back to studying the rest of the patterns. “But he’ll have a great first one. It’s really cool a’ the rich boy t’ take us all trick-or-treatin’ in his rich neighborhood.”

Roman bristled, baring his teeth and growling his words out between them. “His name is Bruce.”

“We always go trick-or-treating with Bruce,” Victor suddenly spoke up, jumping in like he always did when he knew Roman was about to do something especially stupid. He was kneeling in the chair next to Roman’s, struggling to cut a lid into a pumpkin with one of the thin, flimsy knives from the kits. “His parents have a big party every Halloween, so we all meet there, and then his butler drives us to all the houses. It’s cool ‘cause it’s too far to walk, and we get to eat candy in the car. And then we have a sleepover if it’s not a school night.”

“And it’s not!” Jon crowed, successfully distracted from a potential fight with Roman, which was probably for the best. Roman thought he might be stronger than Jon, but Jon was taller and quicker and claimed to know karate. “I can’t wait! It’s gonna be the best night. Candy and scary movies and monsters and zombies and ghosts!”

Victor’s face blanked out at the last items on that list, and he went still. Roman sat up in his chair, hackles rising again, but he wasn’t as fast as Victor was at averting disasters. Jon had seen and was already leering at Victor, grin as wide and toothy as the jack-o’-lantern patterns.

“Oh?” he said, teasing and delighted. “Are you sca-a-ared of those?”

“Why don’t you shut the fuck up?!” Roman roared, slamming his hands on the table hard enough to hurt and make the pumpkins wobble dangerously. The look on Jon’s face was almost worth it.

“Th’ hell’s your problem?! I was only askin’--”

“Dead things should stay dead,” Victor said flatly, once again cutting in before Roman could receive the ass-kicking he just kept asking for. Except Roman wasn’t sure he’d meant to do it this time. The way he was staring down at the partially lobotomized pumpkin, Roman wasn’t sure he was aware of them at all.

At least Jon wasn’t a complete idiot and noticed it, too, his eyes widening as he stuttered out an apology. “Oh, sh-shit, I’m sorry. I-I didn’ mean--”

Victor suddenly stabbed the tiny carving knife into the pumpkin with such force Roman was sure it would snap in half.

“This isn’t working,” he said, still in that flat tone, and pushed back from the table to disappear into the kitchen, leaving the knife wedged in the top of the pumpkin, wobbling slowly to a standstill.

“Fuuuck,” Jon groaned, shrinking back into his own chair and looking guiltily at Roman. “I swear I didn’ mean anythin’. I jus’... I forgot...”

How do you just forget something like that? Roman wanted to ask, except that he had sort of forgotten, too. Or else he might have realized where the conversation might end up and could have stopped it. He should’ve stopped it.

“Don’t say stupid shit like that to him,” he said, anger already fizzling out and leaving him exhausted. “He’s just a kid.”

“Yeah. Yeah…” Jon stood and awkwardly gathered the cat face pattern and a few others into a stack in his hands. “I’ll jus’... go see if Jervis likes any a’ these... Sorry.”

Roman slumped back into his chair once Jon was gone, sighing and grimacing as he peeled his still-stinging palms from the table and turned them over to look. They were red.

Little socked footsteps heralded Victor’s return, and Roman hurriedly rubbed his hands together to soothe and hide them. Victor didn’t need to worry about him right now. The smaller boy climbed back into the chair next to Roman, holding a kitchen knife almost as long as his arm. Roman eyed it warily, but didn’t say anything just yet.

“He won’t say anything like that to you again,” he began, speaking softly and reassuringly, carefully watching Victor’s face. He looked sad and a little confused, but that was better than the blank look from before. The dead look. “I’ll kick his ass if he does.”

Victor sighed. “Dr. Thompkins doesn’t want you getting into fights.” He was quiet and didn’t look at Roman, but he smiled, just a little, and that made Roman smile, too.

And feel a hundred times worse about what he had to say next.

“She doesn’t want you using that knife either.”

Victor’s tiny smile immediately vanished, and Roman hated himself a little more than usual. “I have to cut the pumpkin,” he insisted, his grip on the knife’s handle tightening. “The little one doesn’t work.”

“Okay. But maybe we should wait for her to-- Hey!” His hand shot out to grab Victor’s arm as he raised the knife. “You’re not supposed to have something that sharp!”

His voice broke on the word, and he swallowed hard, sliding his hand down to curl around Victor’s tiny wrist gently, so carefully. “Put it down,” he said, much softer, lowering both their hands. “C’mon, kid. Let’s put it down.”

The knife dropped to the table with a clunk, and instantly Roman filled Victor’s empty hand with his own.

“It’s okay,” he said, squeezing tightly as Victor lowered his head to stare at the floor. Roman wasn’t as good at comforting Victor as the reverse, but he was learning. “It’s okay.”

They sat like that for a long, quiet minute, not quite looking at each other. Finally, Roman heard a sniffle, and Victor’s hand squeezed back. “Roman…?”

“Yeah?”

“How come you aren’t excited?” Victor lifted his head to frown at him. His eyes were always sort of wet and shiny, so it was hard to tell if he’d been crying. “You love Halloween.”

“Halloween’s fine,” Roman sniffed, frowning right back. He didn’t want to talk about it, and he didn’t want Victor worrying about him, but it was hard to say no when Victor looked at him with those big eyes, wanting something else to think about. It felt like being tricked.

He let go of Victor’s hand and shrugged. “I just don’t wanna go back there.”

Victor cocked his head like a little bird. No, a puppy. “You don’t want to go home?”

“It’s not home anymore, Victor!” Roman suddenly shouted, slapping the table again. “We don’t live there. We don’t live there anymore, and now we’re gonna go back, and... Everyone will be there, and it’s the first time since... since we left, and... And they’re gonna know now! They know... what happened, and that we... But now we’re going back like it’s normal, and Bruce should’ve known--!”

Roman curled his hands into fists and stuffed them into his armpits so he wouldn’t hit the table again. He didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t want to think about it, and he didn’t want to yell at Victor, and he didn’t want to be crying, but...

The rich boy and his rich neighborhood.

Because Bruce was the only rich boy now, and Roman and Victor weren’t. Because it was still Bruce’s neighborhood, and Roman and Victor didn’t belong there anymore. Because even though Bruce came to visit and get his head shrunk, he didn’t have to live in the crazy house with the crazy kids nobody wanted. Because Bruce had someone who loved him and took care of him, and Roman and Victor--

“It’s okay.” Victor’s arms wrapped around Roman’s trembling shoulders, hanging on tight as he climbed from his chair into Roman’s. They were both bigger now and couldn’t fit in the same seat like they used to, but that didn’t matter much when Roman grabbed him around the middle and hauled him into his lap. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not!” Roman sobbed, burying his face in Victor’s shoulder and gripping his shirt with both hands. “It’s not okay.”

“It’s not,” Victor echoed, and Roman was certain he was crying now, too. But he nuzzled his little blonde head next to Roman’s and just held him tighter, the way he had since the hospital, since the funeral. Like even when he let go, he hadn’t really. “But that’s okay, too.”

#ZsaszMask Week #ZsaszMask #Roman Sionis #Victor Zsasz #VicRoman #OTP #The Arkham Home for Troubled Youth #Black Mask #Jonathan Crane #The Scarecrow #Jervis Tetch #The Mad Hatter #Rogues Gallery #Bruce Wayne #Batman #my fanfiction #doc pretends to be a writer #doc's stories #my AUs #hurt comfort #DC #long post

[littleoddwriter]

Why Me? | Roman Sionis x Victor Zsasz | ZsaszMask (only mild, tho).

Short vent fic. Didn’t really help me at all, but still had to write and publish it to work through it at least a little bit. Sorry.

summary; Roman relives some traumatic memories from his childhood.

notes; TW / CW // Child Abuse (physical and emotional); Childhood Trauma. Emotional Hurt (and little comfort).

Roman didn’t have a lot of memories of his childhood. Only few good ones, which could be counted on both- no, only one hand. The majority was bad, though. Terrible even. And as much as he hated admitting it – traumatic.

The earliest, albeit extremely vague memory he could summon was from when he was around three years old. His parents would leave him all alone with his nanny, like usual, but something just wasn’t right that day and Roman kept acting out because of it. He kept crying and hanging onto his parents, not letting them leave the mansion.

He didn’t know why, and frankly – nowadays, he really couldn’t tell why he would ever cling onto them like that. Still, it was the first memory he had of his father shouting right in his face, scaring him deeply.

His mind was a jumbled mess, memories were all over the place, but they had a very common theme going on – his father shouting at him, grabbing his arms with bruising grips, and more. Even now, these memories forced tears into his eyes, building a thick lump in his throat that was so hard to swallow around and back down.

Why me?

That particular night, which he spent sitting in his chaise longue, legs folded and feet up, sipping on a Martini, one of his most hated memories forced its way into the foreground. His inner eye made to watch it replay. He felt the fear, the pain, the anguish, the helplessness of his – fuck – probably seven years old self.

It choked him.

He shuddered, shook his head and took a big swallow from his Martini to fight the tears back down.

Roman couldn’t remember what had led up to this, or what his father had been screaming into his face, other than for him to “Stop fucking crying”.

All he could really remember, and what always kept replaying over and over again, was the sudden, strong, bruising grip on his upper arm; the way his father had pulled him through the mansion and to Roman’s room. He could barely keep up, just stumbling after Richard, forced to do so, while he just kept on crying, unable to calm down. Suddenly, he was picked up and for a moment, a split second, he had thought that maybe his father had come around and would comfort him after all.

Then he didn’t feel anything, just air and the weightlessness of flying through it. It was scary. He hoped someone would catch him.

After what felt like an eternity, he crashed onto the floor and into the radiator against his wall, his back and his butt hurting. He was so shaken up, screaming, cries and sobs of anguish leaving his already abused throat. Snot and tears ran down his face, as if the faucet to his bodily fluids had suddenly been turned up to full pressure.

His father only slammed the door closed and left him all by himself.

It wasn’t the last time he’d do it, but it had been the first. Once his mother was home and in a rare moment of actual motherhood, she came into his room after a few minutes and comforted him. That was only one time of too many, though.

Roman emptied his Martini and near carelessly placed the empty glass on the table next to him. A shuddering exhale left his lips, when he rubbed his hands over his face. He really wished he could erase those memories. They were of no use. They only caused him pain and suffering. He didn’t need, nor want that.

Why me?

What is so wrong with me that you had to do this to me?

Why me?

Clenching his jaw, Roman closed his eyes, and forced himself to in- and exhale deeply. His chest was so tight that it hurt.

Then a very familiar pair of hands was on his shoulder, fingers digging in, but not hurting him. An even more familiar scent of cheap cologne and cigarettes enveloped him. He sighed. Victor.

“Why me, Zsasz?” Roman croaked, and put one of his hands on one of Victor’s on his shoulder.

“I don’t know, boss. I just know you didn’t deserve it,” Victor replied dutifully; always so loyal.

It was hard to keep the tears in at that point; his voice was just barely there with the strain of keeping it all inside, “Are you sure?”

Zsasz kissed the top of his head and murmured a quiet, but so convicted “yes” into his hair that Roman couldn’t help but believe him.

#tw child abuse #tw abuse #tw childhood trauma #roman sionis #victor zsasz #zsaszmask #zsaszmask fanfic #roman sionis fanfiction #victor zsasz fanfiction #lol i was literally just showering and my brain thought it'd be nice to replay that particular memory #not only that but i have an older sister and i know my dad hasn't treated her like this at all and i just keep wondering what i did #not just him but everyone in my life has always abused me or bullied me ever since i was three years old #idk why i dont wanna know why but i must have done something to make people want to hurt me like that #sorry lol i just- yeah didnt have a good week obviously

[mashimero]

Belated piece for Zsaszmask Week day 7: Trick or Treat

#Zsaszmask Week #Zsaszmask #Roman Sionis #Victor Zsasz #Birds of Prey (2020) #DCEU #DC Comics #fanart

[blackmasksmutt]

A little bonus for this post I did for day four of ZsaszMask Week!

#birds of prey and the fantabulous emencipation of one harley quinn #birds of prey #bop #victor zsasz #zsasz #roman sionis #black mask #zsaszmask #ZsaszMask Week #my art #// Smooches 😘

[mashimero]

Zsaszmask Week Day 2: R.I.P.

Roman and Zsasz would be the most petty ghosts, lbr

#DC Comics #DCEU #Birds of Prey (2020) #fanart #Roman Sionis #Victor Zsasz #Harley Quinn #Zsaszmask Week #Zsaszmask

[doks-aux]

ZsaszMask Week Day 5: Full Moon

Please forgive the day’s delay on this one. There were circumstances beyond my control. 

Set in the Earth-24 AU. Features frotting, some fond reminiscing about murder and gore, and a brief mention of the greatest untold love story of Gotham City. A note about Victor's scars in this 'verse: his tallies are all in fairly neat groups of five on his chest and represent a slightly more realistic number of kills. There are various scars on the rest of his body, but they're from occupational hazards and not quite as numerous as they are in the movie.

Also on AO3.

--

“I can hear you thinking.”

“Huh?” Victor turned his eyes away from the ceiling to the man lying next to him. Roman had his naked back to Victor, his face glowing softly blue in the light from his phone screen. He glanced back at Victor without moving, just barely smiling.

“It’s loud.”

“Sorry, boss.”

“Mmm.” Roman looked back to his phone. “What is it?”

“S’nothin’. I mean, yeah, I was just thinking.” His voice dropped, cautious and even shy. “ ‘Bout the night we killed them.”

Victor half-expected Roman to ask who. There had been a lot of “thems,” after all. But he set his phone on the nightstand without a word and turned to face Victor, holding the sheet at his waist with one hand and propping his chin in the other. “What about it?”

“All of it. I mean... I think about it a lot. I like to think about it.” Roman smiled and gave a suggestive little hum, and Victor was tempted to abandon his train of thought and see where that might lead instead. “I was just trying to remember something...”

Roman tilted his head, lips pursed and eyes soft. “What’s that, baby?”

“S’a little weird, but...” Victor’s gaze drifted back to the ceiling as he spoke, getting lost in the memory again.

He remembered so much about that night. The sound of his own footsteps through the still, dark halls. The anticipation as he waited outside the master bedroom for Roman to call him in. The slice of his knife through Verity Sionis’ throat, the resignation in her eyes. Roman’s fingers curled with his in the blood and heat as they pulled Richard’s face from his skull together, the way he’d screamed. And outside, afterwards, oh, yes. The wet grass and the roar of the fire behind them. The sting of his blade on his chest, the rush of almost knowing what it meant. Roman’s breathless laugh and the look in his eyes, and, finally, finally, that very first taste of his mouth.

Victor never wanted to forget. Not a single detail. And so...

“D’you remember the moon?”

“...What?”

Victor cleared his throat awkwardly, practically able to hear Roman’s raised eyebrow. “Like, was it full? I was trying to remember, and I don’t know if it was full or not. I think maybe. But I don’t if it really was, or if I just... want it to be.”

“You want it to be?”

“ ‘Cause it’d be... Y’know. Nicer.”

He risked a glance at Roman, watching as his dumbfounded expression melted into a smirk. “Mmm, baby,” he crooned, mocking but still a little genuinely amorous, reaching over to scratch Victor’s chest. “You get so romantic after we fuck.”

Victor thought he was pretty goddamned romantic the whole time, thank you very much, but he didn’t manage more than a huff to defend himself before Roman kept talking. “No, I don’t remember the moon at all.”

“Right,” Victor nodded, fixing his eyes on the far wall. It shouldn’t bother him. Why should Roman remember when he can’t? It shouldn’t mean anything.

“I remember the fire, mostly,” Roman continued. “Once we were outside, of course. It was so big and bright. And so loud. I could barely hear us speak.” He swirled his finger in a tiny circle over and over on Victor’s chest, sighing dreamily. “So gorgeous... And it caught so fast. I knew Lynns had said it would, but I still couldn’t believe it. He was a fucking artist.”

Jealousy bubbled in Victor’s chest at the mention of Lynns, his teeth setting in a silent growl. It was pointless, he knew. Lynns had only been an ally, and a good one, and that was all in the past. Victor didn’t think he even lived in Gotham anymore. There were rumors that he’d run off with Killer Moth after his last stint in Arkham, and they were raising a kid in Central City now.

But none of that meant Victor wanted to hear about Lynns and his fucking artistry right now--naked in bed, post- and possibly pre-coital, revisiting one of his most cherished memories, and Roman probably half-hard while he said it.

“So gorgeous,” Roman said again, much softer, and he was looking at Victor now. “The way it made everything glow. And you. The light on your face and in your eyes and on your chest where your shirt was open. Shining all orange and gold. You were so beautiful.” He closed his eyes with a shudder, petting Victor’s chest hair. “You’re always so beautiful.”

Eyes still closed, he walked his fingers over Victor’s chest, seeking out a particular grouping of the scars recorded in his skin. They stuck out among the others, uneven, made with a less steady and practiced hand. Roman’s fingertips skipped over the largest one to stroke the two that followed. The first of them--the second of them all--was Victor’s first deliberate tally, the first he’d made while almost understanding its purpose. It was for Roman’s mother, for her soul set free. The next he and Roman had made together--his hand tight, wet, and warm around Roman’s on the handle--just like they’d defaced Roman’s father together before leaving him to burn. He’d deserved to suffer as much as possible before meeting his reward.

“I still can’t believe you did this for me,” Roman murmured, barely audible, as he curled closer to Victor. “I’d have understood if you’d said no. I would have. But you--” He gasped softly, hips pressing forward, and he was more than half-hard. “Oh, Victor, you...”

He looked at Victor then almost bashfully, eyes half-lidded, biting his lip, aroused and vulnerable, and Victor had to forcefully swallow back the words creeping up his throat. Roman couldn’t hear them. Those words had only ever been used to hurt him, and Victor would never, ever hurt Roman. Not so long as he lived. Even if it hurt Victor sometimes to keep them inside.

He found other ways to say them.

“I’d do anything for you, Roman. Always would have. Always will.”

Roman moaned wordlessly, scrambling to climb over Victor, the sheet sliding from his hips as he straddled him. Victor caught him in his arms, forgetting the moon and jealousy and words he couldn’t say as Roman grabbed his face and kissed him hard and desperate.

“I should’ve fucked you that night,” Roman said against his lips. “I should’ve let you have me. I know you-- Oh--!” He broke off on a groan, rutting himself against Victor’s stomach, so needy despite everything they’d done only moments ago. “Forgive me, baby.”

“Shhh,” Victor soothed, stroking Roman’s cheek. “It’s alright. We still had so much to do after. And you weren’t ready.” He pushed the hair from Roman’s eyes so he could see Victor’s smile, see the affection in his eyes. That was another way he could tell him. “You were worth the wait.”

Roman made a trembling noise, eyes rolling back and whole body going limp in a swoon. See? Victor was romantic as hell.

“Oh, I’m ready now, baby,” Roman purred, pushing himself to his back and tugging Victor along by the arm. “You do anything you want to me. Everything you wanted to do that night. I’m yours. Fuck everything else.”

He was right, Victor thought. Who cared if Victor couldn’t remember every little detail of that night, or if Roman sometimes thought fondly of old friends, or if Victor couldn’t use one specific word to tell Roman how he felt? Roman was his, and he was Roman’s, and they had so much left to do together. So many more memories to make. That was all that mattered.

“Fuck everything else,” Victor echoed, settling comfortably between Roman’s legs and grinding their hips together. It usually took him a minute longer than Roman to recover, but only a minute. “Fuck Lynns. Fuck the moon.”

Roman laughed, grabbing Victor’s neck and butting their heads together playfully. “Fuck me, Victor.”

Victor grinned wolfishly. “Anything for you.”

#ZsaszMask Week #ZsaszMask #Roman Sionis #Victor Zsasz #VicRoman #OTP #Black Mask #Rogues Gallery #Firefly #Garfield Lynns #Killer Moth #Drury Walker #FireMoth #Richard Sionis #Verity Sionis #Earth 24 #my fanfiction #doc pretends to be a writer #doc's stories #Batman #DC #nsft

[doks-aux]

ZsaszMask Week Day 4: Costumes

This one just felt good to write.

Set in the Earth-24 AU. Roman and Bruce are 10, and Victor is 9. Features unprecedented amounts of fluff and potentially controversial opinions of the Indiana Jones franchise. This is probably the cutest thing I've ever written.

To be continued in Day 7: Trick-or-Treat.

Also on AO3.

--

“You know what you’re gonna be yet?”

“Not really.” Roman blew warm air into his cupped hands and shivered. The three of them--Roman, Bruce, and Victor--were bundled up in blankets in front of the fireplace in Bruce’s room, having finally been dragged in from playing in the garden by the butler because the brain they collectively shared hadn’t registered that it was freezing outside. Now with the feeling returning to their extremities and hot chocolate on the way, that brain was concerned with thoughts of Halloween’s imminent approach. “I was thinking maybe an archaeologist, but--”

“Like Indiana Jones?” Bruce asked with that dumb, innocent smile that meant he was starting trouble on purpose.

Roman gave him a withering glare. “But people keep saying that.”

Bruce giggled. “I don’t understand why those movies make you so mad.”

“Because he’s not an archaeologist!” Punching the floor or stamping his foot meant sticking those out of the warmth of his blanket cocoon, so Roman did an angry little hop instead. “He’s got a whip and a gun, and he never digs up anything once!”

“Because nobody wants to watch that movie, Roman.”

“I do,” Roman groused, retreating further into his blanket.

Bruce ignored him and turned to Victor, who’d been silently watching them and playing with a toy dinosaur he’d found on Bruce’s floor. “What about you, Victor? What’re you gonna be for Halloween?”

“Uhhh...” Victor tipped his head back while he thought, his fingers stuck between the dinosaur’s teeth. “I dunno... Maybe a werewoof?”

(Roman didn’t bother to correct him because he was pretty sure Victor just liked to say it that way.)

“You were a werewolf last year.”

“I like werewoofs.” Victor pulled his blanket over his head like a hood and growled. “Grrr!”

“Good doggie,” Roman indulged him before smirking at Bruce. “So we can’t repeat costumes now? What’re you gonna be this year, Bruce? The Grey Ghost? Or Zorro? Or the Grey Ghost? Or Zorro? Or the--?”

“Hey, I’m not always those!” Bruce said, indignant. “You don’t know, I could be lots of things this year. Like--”

“Robin Hood?” Victor asked, supplying the third costume in Bruce’s Halloween rotation. He’d only been trick-or-treating with them for the last couple of years, but he’d seen the pictures from before.

Bruce glared at them as Roman fell back laughing and gave a haughty little toss of his head as he stood up, blanket draped around him like a cape. “Maybe I’ll go tell Alfred you guys don’t want his famous hot chocolate.”

“Who says it’s famous?” Roman started to sit up when a slipper hit him in the face and sent him back, gagging. “Ew! Bruce! What is wrong with your feet?!”

Bruce’s laughter and uneven footfalls darted past him and disappeared down the hall. Rubbing his nose to rid it of Bruce’s feet cooties, Roman sat up and came face-to-face with Victor, who’d scooted over in his blanket to blink his huge, brown eyes at him.. It might have startled Roman if it didn’t happen so much. (Maybe it startled him a little.)

“Hey. He’s only kidding, you know?” Roman reassured him, taking a guess as to why he was staring at him so expectantly. “He’s gonna bring us the hot chocolate.”

Victor tapped the toy dinosaur’s snout against Roman’s nose. “Rawr.”

Roman wrinkled his nose and play snapped his teeth, causing Victor to drop the toy and crawl out of his own blanket and under Roman’s, burrowing up beside him, boney little hip pressing into his.

“Hi.”

Victor did stuff like this a lot. He always seemed to want to be close to Roman and touch him and share things with him. And Roman didn’t mind, not like he did when other people got too close or tried to touch him. Victor was different. It was nice when he was close.

“Hey, kid. What’s up?”

“I was thinking ‘bout the costumes,” Victor said, almost shy. “What if ours matched?”

“Like if we wore the same thing?”

“No, but, like, if they go together or were from the same thing.” Victor rocked himself side-to-side, clearly excited by his idea. “Like, one time my mom and dad dressed up as the parents from The Addams Family. What if we did something like that?”

“Oh.” Roman hadn’t thought about that. “Do you want to?”

Victor rocked faster. “Yeah! ‘Cause we’re best friends, and best friends do stuff like that. So if our costumes match, then everyone will know we’re best friends. Like, even people we don’t know.”

“Huh...” Roman scrunched up his face, head tilted thoughtfully, but it didn’t take much thinking at all. It sounded fun and made sense, and... Victor wanted people to know they were best friends. That felt pretty good. “Yeah. Okay. Let’s do that.”

“YES!” Victor flung his arms around Roman’s neck, toppling them both to the floor in a giggling heap. They wrestled for a moment, rolling around and tangling the blanket around their legs and itself, until Roman had to stop and catch his breath. (Sometimes he could have too much fun, and it would start to feel scary.)

“Okay,” he panted, pulling Victor to sit up with him. “So what should we be? Do you have any ideas?”

Victor shook a loop of blanket off him like a puppy and grinned at Roman, pink-faced and bright-eyed. “Uh-huh...”

#ZsaszMask Week #Roman Sionis #Victor Zsasz #ZsaszMask #VicRoman #OTP #Black Mask #Rogues Gallery #Bruce Wayne #Batman #Earth 24 #my fanfiction #doc pretends to be a writer #doc's stories #cuddles #DC