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cinebration · 4 years

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Choose Where (Victor Zsasz x Reader) [Part 3]

Another one! Ahhh! I worry the more I write, the less in character Zsasz is, but…*shrugs*

Tagged: @im-just-one-of-the-avengers, @geeksandfreaks6713, @vaaalexandra

Warnings: None

Gif Source: rafikecoyote

Zsasz strode into the office and threw himself into a chair, sighing heavily. You glanced at him without moving your head. Having him in the room made you self-conscious as you worked. You found you couldn’t decipher the numbers as easily as usual.

He sighed again, louder.

“Why aren’t you with Sionis?” you asked.

He rolled his head against the back of the chair to look at you. “He’s with Dinah,” he groused.

“What for?”

“Going over the songs he wants her to sing.”

“And you’re here because…?”

“He sent me away.”

You shook your head. “You’re jealous.”

Zsasz huffed. “I don’t trust her.”

“Neither of you trust any woman,” you muttered.

“I trust you.”

“Only because I’m not a threat to your god.” You kicked yourself inwardly. You really needed to work on your filter. “I doubt Sionis is going to abandon you for Dinah,” you covered.

“That’s not…” He huffed again. “She’s resentful. She doesn’t like working here. That’s a problem.”

“I don’t like working here either.”

Silence.

You dared to look at him. He stared at you with that unwavering gaze of his, his bored agitation replaced with scrutiny. “You hate it here?”

“I enjoy the work,” you answered carefully. “But I don’t like here.”

“What’s wrong with here?”

You glanced around the office, though the gesture was futile. What you hated was Roman stalking the halls, everything his way or death. His taste in art was disturbing. Worst of all, you couldn’t escape it. Any of it.

“I just don’t,” you muttered, turning your attention back to the Excel spreadsheet. “The previous accountant was garbage.”

Zsasz pushed himself out of his chair, slunk over to the desk. You watched him from the corner of your eye. Standing over your shoulder, he leaned forward until his head was level with yours, his eyes on the screen. You could almost feel his stubble tickling your cheek.

“Looks boring,” he said.

“To the untrained eye.”

“My job is more fun.”

“Being a pet sure has its perks, I suppose,” you quipped, unable to stop the words from spilling over your lips.

He laughed. “You’re jealous.”

“Oh sure. I’ve wanted to be a dog my entire life.” You rolled your eyes.

“Most people like dogs,” he argued. The defensive note in his tone amused you.

“Liking dogs and wanting to be one are two different things.”

“All I’m hearing is you don’t like them.”

You leaned back so you could look at him directly. He was close, like an unnecessarily extreme close-up in a movie. The scars on his face revealed their imperfect edges at that proximity, everything HD. One day you would ask about the uniformity of the cuts.

But not today.

“I like a trained, well-behaved dog,” you replied. “Otherwise, I prefer cats.”

His thick black eyebrows arched. “Cats?”

“They’re cleaner. Independent. Low maintenance. And when you earn their love,” you explained, your tone pointed, “they are truly loyal and affectionate. Unlike dogs, who give it away for free to anyone, even people who are bad for them.”

“You’ve got a cat at home, then?”

You shook your head. Of course that’s what he’d take away from your response. “No. I haven’t had one in a long time.”

He shifted then, sitting on the corner of the desk—directly atop the file and papers you had set aside earlier. With a grimace, you yanked them out from under his ass. He grinned, mischief dancing in his eyes. Suppressing a curse, you turned back to the screen.

You read the same number over and over again, hyper aware of Zsasz’s every movement.

“How’s the cut healing?”

“Fine.”

His fingers were at the collar of your shirt before you could stop him. You flinched at the sudden contact, an old reflex. “What’re you doing?”

“Looking.” He frowned. “I won’t bite.” His lips peeled back from his teeth. “Not today, anyway.”

“Will you let me work if I show you?”

“Maybe.”

It was the closest you’d get from him, what with the amusement in his face. Sighing, you tugged down the collar of your shirt.

Zsasz leaned forward, eyeing the wound. His hand reached out again, fingertips brushing your skin. You remained as still as possible. You felt like shivering, though you couldn’t place whether it was a bad or good feeling. Or whether the air conditioner had kicked on and was chilling you again.

“It’ll scar good,” he said, looking up at you with a proud grin.

You let go of the shirt, the fabric slapping Zsasz’s fingers aside. “I’m glad you think so. Now, you said you’d leave.”

He was still leaning forward, crowding your space. An intimidation tactic, you were sure. You met his gaze levelly as it searched your face, lingering a moment on the scar across your temple. His mask of good humor slipped.

“You’re the only woman I’ve ever cut that’s still alive,” he murmured.

A chill slithered down your spine. You couldn’t tell if the words were a threat or merely an admission.

The statement hung suspended between the two of you. You tried to find words to break the thick silence, failed to dredge up anything. All you could do was stare into his dark eyes, unwilling to break contact and show weakness.

“Zsasz!”

Zsasz immediately pulled away, on his feet and headed toward the door. The weight on your chest loosened, freeing you to breathe as he answered his master’s summons. He didn’t glance back at you.

Sagging in your chair, you tried to suppress the tremors rolling through you. You couldn’t shake them, not with Zsasz’s statement still repeating in your mind, the tone of his voice.

You’re living on borrowed time, you thought.

Somehow, the thought didn’t strike you as genuine.

#Victor Zsasz x reader #Victor Zsasz #Zsasz #Victor Zsasz imagine #Zsasz imagine #Chris Messina #Chris Messina imagine #Roman Sionis #Ewan McGregor #birds of prey #birds of prey and the fantabulous emancipation of one harley quinn #bop #bop zsasz

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