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keffirinne · 3 months ago

Note

I wanted to request a fic where someone takes the reader to get to Roman and he gets all overprotective

Could be as part of your oneshot series or it's own thing <3

It took me some time to reply, but here it is! I took a longer, vacation break from writing, but feels good to be back!

Thanks for being patient and for your request in the first place <3

Actually, this request reminds me of 13th chapter of Shadows and Deceptions, story by @thegreatwicked (check it out if you don't know it already, that's a good, long Roman fic!) and I really tried not to get any ideas from it. So I played a bit with it to do something a bit different, hope it will be to your liking!

Warning: swearing, descriptions of violence, Roman being an asshole for most of the time

Overprotective Roman Sionis x Y/N

That fucking bitch... Who did she think she was?

Roman stared at the empty glass standing on the coffee table with intensity, as if he wanted to break it by force of his will. Not just a glass, the whole table made from thick oak wood could collapse under the pressure of Roman's gaze. It wasn't some cheap crap from Ikea, it was a solid piece of wooden furniture imported from Romania that when you hit its edge with a knee, it leaves a big bruise. Roman had the luck to find out about it more than once, when he was looking for something in the living room in the dark. And despite his many vituperative curses aimed at the fancy piece of wood, the table was still standing in its place and was doing fine. This could however change now, when too many words were said in an impassioned argument (all aimed at him - unfounded), Roman's mood was on the verge of collapse. A mixture of exploding emotions was bubbling inside him, flooding him like boiling lava, that couldn’t be cooled down by anything. Not even the frosty presence of his most trusted, vampire looking right hand.

"Boss..." Zsasz began cautiously, standing at the entrance to the living room. "You might want to hear it."

Experience had taught the assassin that a safe distance in moments of Roman's fury was the key to avoid being cowed by the physical effects of his boss's discharge of anger. One of the scars on Victor's cheek actually had come from a skirmish with a 16th-century statue that he failed to protect himself from in time.

"Not now." Roman droned.

Zsasz, again relying on his invaluable knowledge of Roman, wasn't so quick to let it go.

Sometimes when his boss was saying "no," it didn't always really mean "no." Sometimes it did, but usually it meant "maybe" or even "yes." Similar like with moody teenagers, but Victor would never admit it out loud. The ability to read Roman's moods and filtering the validity of the information was a science that Victor spent a lot of time learning and acquired through painful trial and error.

"It's about the girl."

At the mere mention of her, the lava of emotions in Roman's body boiled over, flooding him with anger and irritation.

"What about that bitch?"

"Dent's men got her."

"What?" Roman furrowed and asked a dumb question, as if he didn't understand Zsasz.

In fact, his red-hot nervous system was unable to assimilate any other emotion than the one that was currently bubbling inside him, and this information blandly entered his consciousness. Only when the machinery of self-destruction began to slow down, allowing new facts and related feelings inside, Roman began to comprehend what had just been said to him.

"Yeah, Ronnie saw two of his guys taking her from the gas station." Victor replied in a not too concerned voice, as if he didn't care at all about the girl's welfare, but only wanted to give his boss a high-priority message. Most likely that was exactly what it was.

She deserved it - that was the first thought that went through Roman's head in a fit of anger. She deserved to be taught a lesson.

However, the thought was immediately superseded by another. She deserved a lesson, but at his hand.

Recognizing Roman's silence as indifference to the news he received, Zsasz seized the moment to share his clearly defined thoughts about the girl, hoping that perhaps now the seed would fall on fertile soil.

"It's not a big loss for us, she didn't know much. I told you many times that she was only trouble, it couldn’t be avoided. Actually, it’s good that it happened, we can use it.”

"They took her?" Roman repeated dully. "But she belongs to me."

"She was just a bitch." Zsasz replied using Roman’s own words from a moment ago as if Roman had already forgotten his anger.

"She was my bitch, Zsasz. And no one takes what's mine. Where did they take her?"

The longer Roman thought about the situation, the still recent fury over the argument began to turn into something else. As bitter as stomach bile, it began to flood his throat in a stifling feeling of possessiveness and insult, like to a man who had had something taken from him against his will. It was a slap aimed at his person, his reputation. Someone was undermining his authority.

"Hideout in Bowery."

"Get the boys ready."

Victor, dissatisfied with the vision of the return of a problem he thought just solved itself, nevertheless found interest in Roman's request. There was a spark of excitement in his empty eyes, which hosted there at exceptional moments. Although he would have been more happy to get rid of an inconvenient and completely unnecessary for them girl, the vision of satisfying his dark lusts was also very tempting. And it could compensate for having to deal with Y/N for a little while longer. Victor made no secret of it, he was jealous of Roman's time and attention, but he had fully understandable reasons for it. However, he knew his boss well enough to know that sooner or later the moment would come when they would both get rid of the distracting woman. And when that time comes, Victor will be standing right there, next to Roman, where he belonged. In the meantime, he had to wait, and his time was made more pleasant by the sweet melody coming from the recesses of his black, disturbing inside.

"You should show them that no one messes with you. They should all know not to mess with you."

Roman was still angry with Y/N for opposing him and for the idiotic argument she provoked, out of sheer hysteria and only to manipulate him. It was all for show, he knew it. And Roman wanted to punish her for it, she should have been punished. But the vision that someone else would do it, that someone else would touch her, he didn’t like it. Y/N must have been horrified now, and she certainly regretted what she had done, that she had treated Roman so badly. She will apologize to him for behaving that way and thank him for saving her. Yes, Roman deserved an apology.

And the motherfucker who dared to question his authority will regret it even more.

The room was filled with an irritating, musty stench of basement, dirt and dampness. Grey, cold walls without windows, partially covered with fungus, were meeting the floor of raw concrete. The artificial light coming from an incandescent bulb hanging on a single but sturdy cable was illuminating only part of the basement, allowing the corners of the room to remain in their mysterious darkness. The modest furnishings consisted of a small table with its glory years long behind it and a simple chair to which was now tied to a frightened, young woman. Although the dangerous world of Gotham had tested her more than once, brutally hardening her spirit, the situation she has found herself in now was gonna leave its mark on her for long. She didn’t look injured, just worn and frightened. Her hair was disheveled, covering half of her face. All of her limbs were in place, which was already no small feat for Gotham, but they were restrained and tied with a rope tightly to a chair.

The door to the basement opened wide with the accompaniment of gunshots. Y/N was staring with her eyes wide open as her saviors were coming to her rescue. Not really the hero types, rather quite the opposite. Victor Zsasz, with a demonic smile carved in his face, was leaning now over the profusely bleeding man, whom he himself had shot a moment ago. Y/N had the impression that Zsasz didn't shoot to kill on purpose; that he did it so he could satisfy his monstrous lusts with the sharp strokes of his knife finishing his already wounded victim. Shrill screams quickly turned into the sound of grunts and gurgling, not humanlike, as the goon began choking on his own blood. Despite the brutality of this act, Y/N wasn’t paying attention to it, her focus was set on the staircase, where a taller figure was descending the stairs unhurriedly. She didn’t have to wait till his face submerged from the shadows to know who he was, she already did. She was so relieved to see him.

Roman took the steps with a nonchalance that didn't fit the surrounding atmosphere a bit. He squirmed slightly at the sight of the growing puddle of blood, oozing from the gaping red wound on the neck of his assassin's victim, but it didn't throw him off balance. Maybe he even did it on purpose. He walked around the puddle without smudging his Italian soft leather shoes and approached Y/N. He clicked his tongue as if in displeasure at the sad sight that she was now.

Y/N was actually surprised how composed he was. For the past few hours, she had been stressing out first, whether he would survive, and second, how Roman would react when he found out someone was calling him out. He wasn’t good with his emotions, especially with anger, this morning's fight reminded Y/N good about it, although it started to fade among other revelations of the day. So why was he acting the way he was? As if he knew from the beginning that nothing happened to her… An absurd thought crossed Y/N’s mind, but she immediately pushed the thought aside. No, it would be too fucked-up, even for him. Y/N wasn’t delusional, she didn’t await concern and sympathy from Roman, she was grateful enough that he showed up at all to save her. But a small sting of an illusionary emotion was there, expecting at least some kind of reaction from him.

Roman slowly peeled off the duct tape from her mouth and ran his thumb over her cheek smeared with mascara, which must have run down along with her tears. Despite this almost affectionate gesture, his eyes remained cool and distant. Roman was staring down at Y/N, as if he was waiting for something. There was this shadow, almost cruel, lurking in his penetrating eyes, so much contrasting to the apparent tenderness with which he was displaying himself. It was as if he was continuing to play some sick game that only he was taking part in and trying to win at all costs.

Y/N cleared her throat, savoring anew the opportunity to speak freely. The words that had previously wanted so desperately to come out of her clenched throat now sounded quiet, quieter than she had expected.

"Thanks for coming here."

The taste of her gratitude spread like the finest wine across Roman’s palate, he barely suppressed a smile.

"Of course. You alright?" he asked with feigned concern.

"Yeah."

“Did they do anything to you?” He briefly eyed her up.

“No… I think they were trying to get to you…” Saying it out loud was causing her difficulty, the shame of being a victim was burning her cheeks. She lowered her gaze to her hands, still restrained by the thick rope.

"Could you...?” she asked.

As if unwillingly, Roman glanced in the direction of his personal assassin, who continued to kneel over the has-been goon. Both men must have possessed some higher form of communication, because Victor raised his gaze immediately as Roman's eyes landed on him. He understood the command and got up, perfunctorily wiping his bloody knife on his victim's shirt. Then he walked over to Y/N and cut the ropes on her wrists and ankles with quick, practiced movements. The woman automatically started rubbing the reddened areas on her freed limbs.

"Thanks…”

Victor's face was foreign from gratitude. The dark sparks of excitement in his eyes were unmistakably the result of the activity he had only just engaged in and to which he immediately returned as soon as he had completed the order. It seemed that Zsasz's attitude towards her had not changed a bit.

Y/N rose from her chair as soon as she was freed, distancing herself from the traumatic experience as quickly as possible.

"Are they all...?" She asked Roman looking at the motionless body over which Zsasz was once again leaning. A carefully dissected flap of skin lay on the floor right next to it, in a pool of blood. Y/N averted her eyes before her stomach turned upside down. The air was beginning to get heavy from the pungent, metallic smell that was staying on your tongue.

"Victor and the boys took care of it. Nothing to worry about." Roman answered with a soft voice, almost velvety. It resembled a voice of a boy boasting about winning a game and expecting to be applauded.

Y/N swallowed, she wanted to get out of here, get away as quickly as possible, erase this event from her mind or at least lock it away in its farthest corner, created for such events.

"Can we go?”

"Sure, doll." Roman replied and put a loose strand of her hair behind her ear in a gesture of feigned tenderness. Only when the curtain of hair revealed the reddened skin on the left side of her face, his soft, gloating smile faded. There was a burning, uneven shape spreading across her cheek, most likely from a hit. The edge had already run up with blood and was slightly swollen, leaving no doubt about the brutality of the gesture. Roman ran his finger over Y/N’s cheek, assessing the amount of damage like an appraiser looking at a wrecked car, as if he still didn't believe it was there. The skin under his fingertip was reddened and tense, a flaw on a pretty face.

"Someone hit you?" He asked with disbelief.

"It doesn't hurt." She pushed his hand away trying to preserve the remnants of her pride.

Roman didn’t let her, he only gripped her cheek tighter, to get a better look of the hit. All his nonchalant demeanor momentarily disappeared, his all focus on the ugly shape. Dangerous notes vibrated in his voice.

"Tell me who hit you.”

Y/N swallowed and answered. He wasn’t asking and she didn’t want to fight, she just wanted to leave to this place.

“The one with long hair and moustache. But it doesn't hurt, can we already leave, please? I really want to get out of here..."

Roman did not hear her further words as his senses were flooded by an uncontrollable urge to murder.

He could not bear the ugly mark on her face, the very sight of it aroused in him a burning feeling of uncontrollable rage. A brazen mark of insult aimed at him.

The very fact that someone dared commit such an offensive act against him.

Roman had held a grudge for this morning's fight with YN and was content with her apologies, her obvious remorse, but now that anger of wounded ego was gone without a trace, replaced by a rage spreading across his mind like a rampant fire.

"Zsasz." Roman growled, at which his personal assassin immediately raised his head. "End this. I want this fucker to suffer."

Zsasz smiled predatorily while exposing his teeth. He wiped his knife with the sweet intention of using it again. His hand trembled until he thought how softly it would plunge into the flesh of his new victim.

"Sure, boss."

tags:

@thegreatwicked @daenerys-skywalker @supernatural-lover @vmenfangirl @creativelyquestioninglife @daithideolishmer18

thought it might be to your liking, no pressure, feel free to say if you aren't interested!

credits:

dividers: @cafekitsune / link to dividers

gif: @scottxlogan / gif

#this time no smut!#overprotective roman #anger issues #roman and zsasz bromance #don't remind me how many stories I have not finished #roman sionis #roman sionis fanfic #roman sionis x yn #roman sionis x reader #birds of prey #birds of prey fanfic #black mask #dc #please not him #victor zsasz

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