#this man is fucked up insane and repressed don't do him dirty like that

[daniclaytcn]

tbh, i think one of the biggest ways buck's character is misinterpreted on here is that he's always written to be open about his feelings while eddie is the repressed one. nope. never let oliver stark's big sad blue eyes distract you from the fact that buck is supremely bad at identifying his emotions and expressing and dealing with them, sometimes even more so than eddie :)

[gyrovagi]

hello and welcome to my gamer's den. here's a quick and dirty guide to the ocs i talk about constantly

CANON PROTAGS/NORMAL MEN. INNOCENT MEN:

eloy "el" surana (blood mage/arcane warrior) - i'm like if a control freak could control things ❤️ with blood magic ❤️. generally well-intentioned but hypervigilant, always playing 5d chess about the worst scenario. world's first moral (not necessarily ethical) male bigender manipulator. wields a wholly inappropriate degree of political influence in denerim

seongmin hawke (primarily diplomatic, sword + shield berserker) - afraid that his abandonment issues will leave him. pathologically conflict avoidant, fawn response to the max - up until someone he loves gets threatened, at which point good luck leaving alive lol. 'i don't think i need to talk about my feelings,' says man who just broke the arm of a templar asking around too much about the darktown clinic and then continued making casual conversation with varric as if nothing happened

ciuying "arav'assan" lavellan (archer, assassin) - king of compartmentalization. would really prefer to be one guy helping people on the ground rather than the unwilling inquisitor chained by power he never wanted, fighting for his life to be as politically uninvolved as possible. guy who is duty-bound never to return home

dak-wai (wi)thorne(s) (spellblade) - bellara kisser, direct port of my bg3 durge. vashoth grey warden mage seeking a righteous purpose after a complicated and bloody past, but who has yet to find a better general approach to problems than killing things with hammers.

TGIRLS SAVE THE WORLD(STATE):

sang tabris (champion) - next shem bastard who pisses me off i'm just going to fucking kill you. alistair did you eat yet ^_^. struggling to reconcile an irrepressible hope for a better world with the abject horrors he's been subjected to by the world he lives in at present. morrigan's lesbian husband.

so-min hawke (blood mage) - girl could you at least pretend not to be a chantry-hating apostate in the middle of the gallows. carver just got suddenly pissed off in a darkspawn tunnel and he knows it's not because of the genlocks

r trevelyan (rift mage) - tranquil since 18, and at age 33, honestly dealing pretty well with accidentally getting a magical lobotomy reversed. yeah ok so maybe the random prolonged neutral-expression weeping is a little off-putting. it's hard when you're the white girl who needs to save yourself

yazmin de riva (duelist) - embittered half-elf bastard child of the young lord owain trevelyan. frighteningly competent and driven, but has difficulty taking orders and working with others due to the huge chip on her shoulder. thinks lucanis dellamorte is a nepo baby

INSANE WOMEN AND MALE MANIPULATORS:

ngayu brosca (reaver) - what do you MEAN the fate of the country is dependent on two twenty-year-olds one of whom gets scared looking at the sun. has never once in her life believed she would live past twenty and that's looking increasingly likely as a prediction

rina hawke (assassin) - when you are endlessly bitter and refuse to deal with it in any healthy way because that would require you to acknowledge your resentment towards the family members you perceive as a burden. chronically insincere, subservient but seething the whole time, wouldn't be able to name a solid belief if you asked her, incapable of self-reflection. crack baby you don't know what you want...

caden trevelyan (templar) - wildly repressed homosexual. has weird ideas about being a man. constantly develops obsessive fixations on authoritative older men. believes he has the divine right to mete out violence. white boy who sucks 🔥

ha-neul aldwir (slayer) - born in the minrathous ambassadoria, hasn't been back there for half his life. fascinated by magic and magical artifacts since a young age. something of an oddity by both dwarven and non-dwarven standards, a guy with an endless thirst for life and little interest in denying himself pleasure or dwelling in guilt, for better or worse. unserious.

PRONOUNS USERS GOING THROUGH IT/TRAGEDY WORLDSTATE;

enasa mahariel (ranger) - deadalive nothing girl who isn't. didn't anticipate that taking the vallaslin of dirthamen, twin brother to death, would be quite so prophetic. very clearly crumbling under mounting pressure while refusing to stop dragging the rotting corpse

bryn hawke (force mage) - half-avvar on malcolm's side, raised with what avvar beliefs and practices their father could half-remember from childhood. never quite at home in ferelden and struggling to come to terms with the idea they'll never be quite at home in their mother's city either. quietly shouldering other's burdens until it chokes them.

meiying lavellan (knight-enchanter) - turns out when you take an anxiety-ridden elf burdened with excess responsibility since youth out of their familiar environment and support system she'll have a bad time. solas' ex-spouse still misses him… but their aim's getting better!

orpheus ingellvar (death caller) - < he doesn't know (that he's the child of the last theirin king and the missing presumed dead hero of ferelden). surprisingly cheerful for a guy collectively raised by a bunch of necromancers, seems like a polite young man, but then he says something weird and offputting that makes you realize he's spent a lot of his life interacting with skeletons. and nevarrans.

ASSORTED GUYS:

dea surana - reserved but observant, knows it's best not to attract attention, tries to look after herself and her own in the ways she can. surprisingly worldly/cynical after her brother was taken by the templars at a young age and her life afterwards was spent largely on the road. then her situationship was like 'you know the hero of ferelden is named surana? circle mage, relative of yours?' and now she regularly talks to the king of ferelden

owain trevelyan - never really stopped hoping his older brother would come back from the circle and everything would be fine again. he's socially well-connected and charismatic, and could make for an influential heir to the house with motivation and an advantageous marriage - but he's a lot more interested in dragon hunting and boy bestiesisms with the prince of starkhaven.

valerie trevelyan - black sheep of the family, annoyed that this is more about lesbianism than being a fantasy communist. managed to pull off a 'buy my silence - for $8000 a month i will stop' ploy on her parents at 20, before she knew that this would end with her as the warden-commander's sister-in-law

ga-ying lavellan - middle sibling b/w meiying and ciuying, closer to both of them than they are with each other. tends to take things a little too lightly, an optimist unconcerned with anything outside of the clan and the present. the siblings' dads (and meiying, and his wife) are hoping the birth of his daughter will make him more serious. ciuying likes him as he is.

everybody's parents tend to be less developed than their kids are but they exist. In my mind . there's also a couple other extremely incidental fellas but they'll come up when they come up. i might also ramble about my non-da guys here but (closes my eyes and passes away silently)

[metize]

Behave.

Rating: Explicit Warnings: Rape/Non-Con Relationships: Yagami Light/Reader Additional Tags: Reader-Insert, Praise Kink, Yagami Light is Kira, L is reader's brother, but no one's supposed to know, Possessive Behavior, Unhealthy Relationships, Blackmail, Coercion, Sexual Coercion, Oral Sex, Rough Oral Sex, 'good girl's, AFAB reader - Freeform, Misogyny, Workplace Sex, Desk Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Vaginal Sex, this is filthy, I'm so sorry, Manipulation, Top Yagami Light, Jealousy

A/N: Filth! Absolute dirt! I'm the Trash Man! I come out, I throw trash all over AO3, and then I start eating garbage! Enjoy.

"You seem to get along very well with L."

You could practically feel your heart stop when Light said that. You felt so stupid, of course, this guy would figure it out. You tried your best to look unfazed while you panicked on the inside. The black-haired detective and you were trying to keep it a secret from the task force that you were siblings. You cursed Ryuzaki internally, he had been acting kind of protective towards you and it was bound to raise suspicion.

“You think so? I’ve just been trying to be on good terms with everyone.” You deflected.

The investigation room was empty save for the two of you, there was a single monitor showing the news broadcast reporting on the most recent Kira murder. You focused back on the files you were sorting through. Your older brother never cared much for organizing and that drove you mad. You glanced in Light’s direction again, he was staring at you, his gaze sent shivers down your spine, you just forced an awkward smile.

"Did you let him fuck you yet?" He deadpanned.

"W-What the fuck? Of course not!" You answered abruptly. You were offended that Light would even ask something like that. The crude way he said it too, made you blush in embarrassment. You found it weird he'd say something like that, usually Light was nothing short of a gentleman when addressing you.

"Don't get coy all of a sudden. Just admit you two are fucking already." He sounded annoyed now. He got up and got closer to your desk, his eyes never leaving yours. You sometimes felt intimidated in his presence, now in the middle of the night, alone with him towering over you, this feeling increased tenfold.

"T-that's disgusting! Why are you even saying that? We're just… we're just friends, coworkers who get along, whatever!" You started to crack under the pressure.

Light brows furrowed for a second and then his eyes widened in revelation. A grin formed on his face and he burst into laughter like he had finally gotten the punchline to a joke. His laughter was scary, loud and almost maniacal.  You didn't know how to react exactly so you looked at him nervously and confused.

Did he believe you? Did he find the misunderstanding funny? Was that it? You hoped that was it. You offered a weak smile as his laughter died down.

"I was so caught up in this… obsession… this feeling of jealousy… ah. It was obvious all along. You're siblings. Siblings!" He shook his head smiling "This is pathetic. You're becoming such a nuisance with your distraction."

He figured it out, of course it had only been a matter of time. But that realization took way too long for his liking. He was blinded by the rage of the idea of L having you and he didn't stop to consider any other possibilities.

"Excuse me? I didn't-" You got up and started to retort his rude comment.

"Shut the fuck up." And you did so out of shock. Light wasn't like this normally, he was relatively courteous and nice. Why was he so… brutish all of a sudden? He smiled at your obedience. "Good girl."

The praise felt so dirty, you frowned at him. Being infantilized was something you were used to dealing with in the workplace, being surrounded by older men. But Light was pretty much your age, what was he thinking?

You didn't have time to wonder because the man grabbed your collar and pulled you into a kiss.

You tried to push him away instinctively and ask what the fuck he was doing, but Light grabbed your wrists. He held them so tightly it almost marked your skin. Your lips were still closed so he bit them to make you part them. He kissed you aggressively as if he was punishing you for something. his tongue entered your mouth deepening the kiss and claiming your mouth for himself.

He tasted like coffee and sin.

"God, and I thought fucking L's girlfriend was a good idea, this is way better." He sounded extremely amused. "I wonder how is he going to react when he finds out I fucked his pretty little sister?"

Ryuzaki had always had a bad feeling about Light, he mentioned you should be careful around him, you knew all that and here you were. You thought he was being overprotective, to be fair Light wasn't the first guy L had a bad feeling about.

Light's hand was now caressing your hair, smiling content with your current predicament and very proud of himself.

"We… w-we can't." You tried to come up with an excuse. "We work together, so it would be-"

"I am Kira."

You heart stopped when you heard those words. Everything started connections in your head, every lead, every tip, every death. You still had many questions, some things didn't make sense, but as you stood there looking at that man's face it was clear that he wasn't joking.

"W-why are you… telling me this?" You tried to back away slowly. You could hear your heartbeat drumming in your ears.

"Because I feel like keeping you to myself." He smiled sinisterly, every step back you took he stepped forward to approach you again "I was contemplating killing you after pounding your cunt, but I told myself I deserved a little treat."

Hearing him talking about murdering you in cold blood activated your flight instinct immediately. You turned away and rushed towards the door, but as soon as you tried to twist the doorknob and open the door, it was locked. You twisted the knob again and again, desperately trying to unlock it with sheer willpower.

“Stop that, you’re smarter than this.” You heard his voice right against your ear, his hands now grabbing your waist and caressing you through the fabric of your blouse. “There’s only one way you leave this room” he placed a kiss on your neck and you shivered despite yourself “with my cum leaking down your thighs” he grabbed your throat suddenly “and invisibly leashed to me, like a good little pet.”

You were shaking, incredibly aware of Light's bulge pressing against your ass, one hand toying with the hem of your shirt and the other still holding your neck possessively.

"Are we clear, pet?"

You felt his grip tighten a bit so you just quickly nodded your head. It showed to be the wrong answer, because you were punished with a sharp swat to your ass.

"Use your damn words, there's a reason I chose not to gag you." He grabbed your face, forcing you to make eye contact with him. "Say 'Yes, master'."

He was a sick fuck. You wanted to scream at him and call him exactly that. You wanted to push him away and go home already. But god damn it, you wanted to survive this.

"Yes… m-master."

He smiled at your obedience and his grin made you sick to your stomach. He placed a kiss on your temple and pat your hair gently.

"There you go, good girl. That wasn't so hard, was it?" He turned you around quickly and pushed your back against the door. His mouth was on yours again, his hands slipped under your shirt and you shivered feeling his cold touch on your skin. The fabric was restraining his hands so he grew frustrated and started to undress you at once.

"Y-you don't… have to do this, Light. I promise I won't tell anyone, just let me go and-"

"Don't waste your breath. You'll need it when I get to choke you properly…" he answered simply, amused by your perseverance, all the while looking forward to breaking it. "I want to fuck you, so I'm going to do it. I have the whole world in my hands and it's not a little pet that's going to deny me what I want. Understood?"

He tossed your shirt on the floor and started pulling your pencil skirt up. He glared at you for not answering and you promptly spoke up.

"Understood."

He smirked. You felt his fingers trace your slit over your panties, you shuddered and instinctively tried to move away.

"Don't fucking move." His other hand grabbed your waist holding you in place. His tone was harsh and you were so fucking scared.

"Sorry"

"I'm sure you are… Good girl, at least you have manners." He chuckled at that. "Not that your decency matters, look how wet you are for your master…"

He stroked the wet fabric to emphasize his point and you tried to hold back a moan, but it was useless. It felt good, of course it felt good. Light was a hot guy, he obviously knew his way around someone's body and you were only human. His lips captured yours again and he kept playing with your clothed sex as you made out. You could swear you were going insane, the pleasure of his hands on you was intoxicating and his mouth on yours had you gasping for air.

"Get on your knees. Now."

You needed to survive this, you needed to be useful to him. The way he ordered you around did excite you but you needed to stay focused. You were not supposed to feel good, you were supposed to find a way out of this situation.

For now that meant kneeling before Light as he pulled out his cock for you.

You gulped as you eyed him, of course Light Yagami had a big dick, you had to have suspected it. But now you had to give him head and you knew very well he wasn't going to go easy on you. He saw your hesitation and scoffed in amusement.

"Go ahead pet, you want to prove to me you're worth keeping around don't you?" He smiled devilishly at you.

"Yes, master." You murmured and licked your lips. You could do this. And, in a weird way, you kind of wanted to do this, you wanted him to praise you more, to call you a good girl again… you repressed the thought. This is disgusting, Light is disgusting and a murderer. You were strong you won’t fall for his games.

You grabbed his cock by its base and started to gently suck the tip. You looked up at him before taking the whole shaft into your mouth. You sucked him off to the best of your, limited, abilities, trying to get him deeper with each bob of your head. Maybe if he came in your mouth he wouldn’t touch you further, maybe he’d let you go.

Your hopeful thoughts are interrupted by the man’s hand grabbing your hair forcefully, you looked at him and he was grinning like the maniac he was.

“Sit still, let me use your throat a little bit.” His voice was unshaken. You felt a bit annoyed he didn’t seem phased by your efforts. You didn’t have time to dwindle on that feeling because Light was grabbing your face and fucking your mouth as soon as he finished his phrase.

His pace was unrelenting and you felt your spit dribbling down your chin, you tried to breathe in small intervals and you could see him laugh at your predicament. You felt rage but he slowed down his thrusts and started petting your head. Like a kid. Like a pet.

“That’s a good girl, such an obedient little pet…” he breathed and pulled out “Bend over your desk for me.”

Fuck. You were out of breath, you could only nod and do as he said. You didn’t even think of disobeying his order, he praised you again, you were doing a good job… You got up and rested your torso on the desk. He was going to fuck you. Light was Kira and he was blackmailing you into submission. This was an absolute nightmare. So why the fuck were you so turned on?

“You know where you belong, don’t you, pet?” You felt his presence behind you and he pulled down your panties. “Not above anyone, not next to your brother… Not even by my side.” He pulled your hair and you yelped despite yourself “You belong under me.”

He entered you forcefully and you couldn’t help but moan loudly at the intrusion, he didn’t prepare you with his fingers, he didn’t touch you properly at all, it hurt and he knew. But he didn’t give a fuck.

“You should be grateful to your master, whore.” His hand reached around your neck his grip making you gasp. “Tell me you can be obedient.”

“I can!” You cried and you felt his other hand reach between your legs to press your sensitive bud.

“You think you can be useful? Do you think you deserve to live to serve your master?” His thrusts were getting harsher and he groaned “Do you?!”

“Yes, master, please, master!” You begged. To cum, to live, anything. Light held your life in his hands and you were so scared, but so turned on.

“You better....” He grunted and kept on rubbing your clit “I fucking own you. I’m going to cum inside you, going to make you my breeding bitch.”

Oh no. That wasn’t good. That was a bad idea.

“N-no… please not inside” You heard him laugh at your resistance.

“Then tell me… tell me his name.” His name? Fuck. Ryuzaki.

You couldn’t tell him his name. Was he going to kill you if you didn’t? You couldn’t do it. You sobbed and grasped his arm in fear.

“No, I can’t, I can’t!” You cried out shaking your head. The pleasure was overwhelming and you came on his fingers screaming. “I can’t! Ah!”

You saw stars, Light never stopped pounding you as he laughed maniacally at your desperation.

“Know your fucking place… useless cunt.... Fuck-” His laughter died down and he pulled you closer as he came inside you.

You felt his spent dripping down your pussy, you trembled both from the orgasm and from fear of what came next. Light pulled out and turned you around, smiling amused at your scared face.

“Don’t worry, pet, of course I wasn’t counting on a dumb slut like you telling me this information…” He pat your head and you stood there with tears rolling down your face “You’re beneath me, I don’t need you, I don’t need your help. I’ll find out eventually.” He chuckled and wiped away your tears “But I do know your name. So you better behave.” He kissed your forehead. “Won’t you, pet?”

[dindooku]

As a young student studying Criminology, Gotham was the perfect place to study the thoery of crime. But, that didnt come without it’s own risks. Without your intention, your life becomes intertwined with another’s; a life you had so vehemently tried to repress - and now it was within your grasp; the opportunity held upon a golden pedestal, just waiting for you to take it. In your own desperation to fend off the demons tormenting your soul, can you overcome the very thing your swore against? Or will you succumb to the darkness? When had being bad ever felt so good?

Rating: M/E (swearing, triggers, panic attack (not explicitly said) - alcohol abuse (OC isn’t an addict but doesn’t display healthy relationships with alcohol) - please read the tags. this fic is going to be very dark and twisted so please be warned in regards to further chapters

word count: ~5k

You needed this.

By fucking god you needed this.

You could blame it on your studies, your recent move to Gotham city to study your Masters in Criminology; the perfect setting really. And you could blame it on your stressful move; the house that you're renting not being anything like the photos you viewed online - the water-damaged walls and the odd-looking array of bullet holes in the front room, and maybe even the questionable red stain spotting along the cream-turned-brown carpet towards the bathroom.

But most of all it was this.

Moving to Gotham was the worst-best thing you have ever done. It'd do leaps and bounds for your research and personal evolution, but it was also becoming more and more apparent by the day as to why the little flat you lived in was so cheap; having an address with anything to do with Hell on it was probably a good indication.

Flat 221B, 36th, Hell's Kitchen, Gotham.

Yeah. That's why you fucking needed this.

It was an absolute shithole. You'd only been here for a week and you had experienced more crime than you had been privy to when studying at home. It was a catch 22, move to the most dangerous city you can think of and get 1-1 experience in crime, collecting data for your dissertation; or stay at home, go to a safe city and become some pansy police officer who refused to get their hands dirty.

You were always one for taking risks.

So, as you downed your last home-made margarita and stuffed your bits and pieces into your shoulder bag, you were off out the door.

Tonight was a field day; an excuse to go out and get absolutely trollied all in the name of science. It was just getting late, the sun had set a few hours ago and the Gotham nightlife brought the streets to life; ironically, considering the insanely high murder rates. Some would call you mad, a single, young, attractive woman walking unfamiliar streets at this time of night, in Gotham. And you supposed you were. See, the only reason you were studying crime was out of pure fascination. Fascination, yes. The theory of it, really - how the human mind comprehended such decisions and why you lived in such a society - who branded these rules? Desperation was a word you liked to play with. Its meaning subjective depending on your own reality, really. You had always seen the world differently... criminals weren't inherently bad people to you, they were just often misunderstood, brandished, acting out of desperation at someone else's greed. Obviously, you had the complete and utter fucking mentalists, but even then you could find an argument in their favour - like the Joker; he was misunderstood, torn and thrown around like a rag doll until he made a stand, a particularly violent one, but a stand nonetheless; a stand out of desperation to be heard, to be understood. And deep down you resonated with his actions, being driven to the extremes to be listened to.

You knew exactly how he felt. You had the scars to prove it.

Enough on that, though; you're here for a good time, right? Right. You're going out to forget about the stingy shithole you'll be returning to once the night bleeds into morning, to forget about the mountain of case studies you've yet to work through. It was all a bit overwhelming; thus solidifying your burning need to procrastinate and forget about it all, and what better way to do it than get black-out drunk in a bar you've never been to before?

You weren't an alcoholic by any means, you didn't rely on the sweet burn to see you through the days, but that didn't mean you couldn't revel in the double-ended spear of its toxicity - drinking so much to forget, but its effects only temporary. You were a student, after all, you had to live up to the stereotype?

You scoffed at the thought, murmuring out loud, "Fucking hell." Ok maybe you needed to slow down a little bit... you put the hipflask back in its pouch whilst you continued to walk to your third bar of the night.

You were on a pub crawl of sorts, embarking on your own little quest to scout out the best club in town for further investigation. You were just balancing on that fuzzy tightrope between bliss and blindness, the perfect haze to blur out the dangers of the night and warm your skin despite the bitter cold. You were in your own little world it seemed, and as a bright neon sign for a secluded back alley club came into view, you knew you had to investigate.

"Card." Came the burly voice in front of you. You had to crane your neck up to meet their eyeline, trying your best to pull a serious face and not laugh at the imaginary comedy sketch playing out in your mind.

"Card, you mean ID?" You ask, one eyebrow furrowing in question. You had all the relevant stuff, and deep down you'd be offended if they didn't ask, you'd only just turned 21, a few months ago in fact.

"No, Entry Card, VIP." He reiterates, crossing his hands in front of his chest. You scoff at the idea that a place like this required VIP cards to get in. 'Really? They'd have to pay me to not go in, ha' you humour to yourself, finding the joke a little too funny in your drunken state.

"What's so funny?" The man asks again, a bit more aggressively this time, like he knew you were mocking him in your head. And you were. You knew you shouldn't push your luck, his size easily outmatching yours. But fuck it.

"Nothin sweetheart, just surprised 'tis all," You tease, rolling your eyes as you put your ID away and prepare to leave the queue.

The bouncer can't help himself, "Surprised?"

"Mmm, yes, surprised, or disappointed? You choose." You smirk as you turn away, hips swaying in a drunken swagger that you would never normally possess. Something about you tonight just screamed fucking goddess - and 'don't fuck with me else it will be the last thing you do' - you didn't know why; you were in no state to start a bar fight and win. Maybe it was the tight, black faux leather flares and wrap around corset that filled you with a placebo pill of confidence; but by god did you have a stunning poker face, one that seemed to have caught the eyes of someone other than the bouncer you were antagonising.

A whistle stopped you in your tracks.

You stood on the edge of the pavement, back to the club, your hair flowing slightly in the wind. You tilted your head slightly towards the sound, your minimal movement the only sign of your acknowledgement. You really hated catcallers. It was one of the few things that would really wind you up, your short and temperate anger fizzing and popping under the surface.

"Let her in." Came a new voice. You turned around, eyes landing on an unfamiliar face. He was a tall guy, with an ice-white buzzcut and a sculpted face sporting scars; new and old - his brows knit into a harsh line and his piercing gaze instructing you with just his silent intention. You decide to play along, smirking back at him as you turn and saunter your way back to the entryway. As you walk past the bouncer you position yourself against him, slighting a faint touch of your body to his, sure to leave a whisper of your perfume lingering in the air as a sort of poisonous parting gift - a nicely packaged fuck you.

Your pupils instantly dilated to the sight laid before you. Ok, you take it back. This was no dingey club. Your skin was coated in an inciting shade of red; the coloured theme of the club. It was stimulating, the atmosphere - reigniting that previous cockiness you had been secretly harbouring through the night and twisting it into something still unfamiliar to you, the inner thrumming residing behind your naval indistinguishable from the music reverberating around the club.

The man who had whistled at you had disappeared, so you took this as your opportunity to grab a couple more drinks, to scout the club, of course...

You sauntered over to the bar and after a moment of getting yourself comfortable on the stool, locked eyes with the bartender. They didn't hold the same ferocity as the man before, and you felt your outer guard falling slightly at the soft tones lacing their eyes, their general aura giving off nothing inherently dangerous. They walk over, one hand wiping away at a newly washed pint glass with a rag.

"What can I get you?" They ask politely. They seemed young, too young in fact to be working behind the bar, but now wasn't the time for serious investigating - you highly doubted he was underage, just in fact sporting an inherent babyface. You smile sweetly back at the bartender as you purr your reply, "Whiskey on the rocks, please."

"Oh? Honey that's strong?" He questions, an eyebrow furrowing at your request. You giggle at his innocence.

"Mhm, make it a double." You smirk, and he only reciprocated, pouring a double and a little extra.

"You're new 'round here, aren't you?" He states as he passes over your drink, and you nod as you take a sip, soon following up with a further reply, "That obvious?"

"No, I just would've remembered a pretty face like yours if you'd been here before." He flirts, leaning down onto the bar, elbows sitting comfortably on the dark mahogany surface - it was a tactical move, you knew it, he was getting closer to you by the minute and you noticed his blatant interest the moment he locked eyes with you. You'd play along for a little while, it was good practice anyway, investigating.

You smile before replying, a brief pause between sips to sell your contemplation, "I can tell you're not one for wasting time..." You pause, implying silently for his name.

"Alex." He smirks, holding his hand out to you. You shake it, surprised by the dexterity. But as you thought things were going well, he pulls away sharply, his gaze dropping from you as he scurries back to the other side of the bar nervously. Your face scrunches in confusion, wondering exactly what you'd done wrong.

A firm hand around your waist answers your question.

The presence of another behind you makes you tense momentarily, their forward nature catching you off guard. A hand swirls around the small of your back, stopping at the natural curve of your waist, their palm sitting comfortably in the dip as their fingers latched into your exposed skin. The grip is tight, possessive - possessive for someone you didn't even know the face of. Your nervousness quickly turns into a tizzy, frustrated at the being behind you and their audacity to hold you so. You twist, turning your head to meet the side of their face, eyes rough with your bubbling anger.

The sharp-edged, stubbly profile of a man greets you, a little too close for comfort.

"Alex, two of whatever she's ordered on me, 'kay?" The man says. You roll your eyes at his cockiness, picking up your whiskey glass and downing the rest of the hot honey, burning your throat in the process - but you invited the pain, it's scorch momentarily masking the uninvited heat that was building elsewhere.

"I can order my own drinks, thank you." You scoff, sliding off of the barstool and away from his grasp, picking up your bag so that you can leave.

The man scoffs, using one hand to bring the red-tinted shades sitting on his nose sliding down, tilting his head to give you a better look. You turn and face him at the wrong time it seems, interrupting his very blatant scan of your form. You scoff at his actions, turning harshly to go, muttering to him as you walk past him and towards the exit, "In your fucking dreams."

Yeah - you tell him, girl. Too fucking right, that's what he gets for...that. Maybe you were overreacting, but the way your skin heated like wildfire at his unexpected touch, the way the previously dormant thrumming deep within your stomach tinged with a spark of something you hadn't felt in a long time, a feeling that was unfortunately not one of pleasure to you - you panicked. You'd never reacted like this, but something about his presence was just dominating your senses and you had to get away, to clear your head; maybe it was the alcohol, you didn't know - you didn't care, you just wanted fresh air and five minutes to get whatever the fuck has come over you out of your system.

"I see manners are not your chosen language," The man jokes, but he doesn't bother hiding the icy bitter frustration at your rejection. But you carry on, moving away from his ensuing footsteps.

"Neither are they yours," You retort, turning the corner towards the back exit. But you don't make it to the back exit. The scarred man from before moves from the shadows and grips your upper arm, swivelling you in one motion to face your incessant assailant. You don't give him the privilege of your attention, instead choosing to stare wide-eyed at the ground. Your bubbling anger evolves into something more pertinent, more feral, "What the fuck is it with you guys?" You spit, trying your best to yank your arm free. It was no good, every time you moved his grip on you tightened.

"That's no way to speak to a kind gentleman, is it darling?" The stubble-haired man chides, waving a hand in a dramatic swish as he talks.

"You and gentlemen is a bit of a reach, don't you think? And kind too, don't flatter yourself sweetheart -- hey! Let me go!" You scorn, yanking away harder. Your heart was starting to race now, the phantom ghost of familiar brutish hands that had hurt you before were blurring with your present reality. You couldn't go through that again, no. You'd moved away for a reason, even if it were disguised by your University Degree, the real reason was to get away from him.

Your change in body language seemed to shock both men, and soon the bearded man orders the other to let you go.

"Zsasz, let her go." He says sternly. As soon as his grip is off of you, you practically run to the bathroom, locking yourself in the stall. You close your eyes. You were trying so, so hard to help yourself, but it was just not to be. The last 12 months come crashing down on you, and you were helpless against the murderous gravity of it all. Your panic quickly turned into terror, and no matter how hard you tried to suppress the overbearing feelings blistering your heart, their clutch was now embedded into your conscious and they were working their way out, ripping and tearing, leaving nothing but devastation in its wake. It was brutish, the power of it all; how after all this time those short few moments held such a crippling power over you, a power no matter how hard you tried to overrule, decimated you each and every time. You're so caught up in your emotions that you don't hear the lock on the bathroom click, nor do you hear the faint rustling of a velvet suit making its way towards your stall.

However, you do hear the tap-tap of leather-coated knuckles against the door.

"Fuck off," You spit, not even attempting to mask the raspy panic between each word. The other person didn't say anything, and silence engulfed the room momentarily, only the occasional piercing sounds of your choked panic ripping the hazy-yellow neon light animating the bathroom. The clink of glass to wood brought your head up, your attention distracted and now upon the glass of whiskey being slid underneath the door.

"A peace offering," A familiar voice clarifies. You snatch up the drink and down it in one, desperate for a distraction; a controllable discomfort. You cough roughly at the strength, the new soreness from your rasped panic mixing distastefully with the burn from the alcohol - note taken; don't ever do that again.

You take a second to let the burn cool before speaking, "Thanks...for the drink." 

He doesn't bother with a reply.

Another few moments pass and you feel you have yourself under control. You take in a deep breath and straighten your clothes out as you stand, brushing the stray hairs from your face and trying your best to look presentable despite the absence of a mirror. You unlock the door and move to step out, hand holding the empty glass out aimlessly for the other man to take.

He doesn't take it.

You furrow your brows and pause in your movements, and it is only now you chance a look into his eyes for the first time. The moment your eyes meet his, you regret it. Not because you're scared or frightened, no; you regret it because you know those are eyes you will forever see in your dreams. This man's eyes told you similar tales of the navy shores from home that you had often resided to in search of peace, the lighter hues telling tales of the midwinter sky you would doze under; and the occasional slash of cobalt reflected the darker depths of his soul, mirroring the light of unnamed stars. His eyes painted your soul in a colour you'd yet to see, a colour only he could grace you with, and it made you weak.

You were transfixed, held stationary by his unspoken authority. He raised an eyebrow at you, his understanding all too clear. You broke from your haze and scuffed, a hot blush creeping over your tear-stained cheeks.

Embarrassed couldn't even cover it.

"Fuck," you whispered, wiping away once again at the drying streaks of once warm tears on your cheeks. "FUCK!" You shout louder this time, chastising yourself as you come back to reality. What the fuck are you doing? You're stronger than this?

"How about we fix you another drink, hmm?" He says. You chuckle as you pinch the bridge of your nose, the heavy daze from the whiskey starting to mount its assault on your senses. Fuck it, you came here to get blackout drunk, so you're going to get fucking blackout drunk - for free by the looks of it.

You roll your shoulders and pick your head up, holding it high. "Sure, ugh--?" You say, holding out your hand to shake his as you hint for his name.

He replies with a smirk before turning you towards the door, catching himself before he places a hand at the small of your back, "Roman, Roman Sionis."

"Well, Roman, how about a pitcher or two?" You challenge, "Ever drunk with a student before?"

He didn't reply instantly, but you didn't let him, storming confidently out of the bathrooms and to the bar. You honed in on Alex, and at first he looked excited to see you, but as you approached he saw the darkness in your eyes and instantly knew you were'nt to be messed with. He poured a double shot of Vodka and Coke as quick as he could; it didn't even reach the counter before its contents were emptied by yours truly and slammed back onto the mahogany.

"Another." You growl, and Alex doesn't hesitate, the next drink landing in your hands within moments. You sink this one like the last, face maintaining the deadly glare it had held since you entered the room. Roman was soon at your side, marvelling at your drinking abilities; it was scary actually, how you managed to down your alcohol with such ease, expressionless. His grin faltered on your fourth shot and he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, breaking your anamatronic trance and stealing your attention to him; that's better - Roman always got what he wanted, and he wanted you. He raised an eyebrow at your anger, wondering how he could capitalise on this and turn the situation in his favour. But for some reason, he hesitates; the thought of being cruel to you made his skin shiver in an unpleasent way - oddly. See, Mr Sionis was a criminal, a violent, feral monster who, if he did not get his own way, or was undermined or disrespected, made sure that those were the last things said person would inflict - for disrespecting the King of Gotham's underground was a penalty punishable by death. A slow, torturous death, courtesy of his own cynical ministrations. He was the Black Mask, and the Black Mask felt no mercy. Why should he sympathise when he could not receive such pleasures? Others can't have what he cannot, that simply is not fair, its preposterous. And like the narcissistic bastard he was, he reasoned with this part of himself, convincing the little golden figure sat perched on his right shoulder that he was doing the nice thing by not kidnapping you right now and keeping you for himself. Something about you was different, he could sense it - he recognised the brutal blaze swirling in the depths of your eyes. They reflected his own - murderous. And that's when the little red devil on his left shoulder made their attendance known, reinforcing Romans suspicions. This girl had the devil in her, the same devil within him.

"What?" You asked, incredulously. Roman had been staring at you for longer than was comfortable, and you knew he was deep in thought over something. His eyes flicked like an old VHS tape, his physical thoughts and their direction reflecting in the depths of his scrutiny over you.

Roman grinned at his plan. He had to have you, but he knew now that forcing himself was not an option - he had to wait for you to come to him. And what better way than to get someones attention by no longer wanting it? It was the ultimate power play he thought, his excitement at the idea of you being his under your own intention ignited a blistering fire of self admiration within him - Roman Sionis was a fucking genius he thought, no, he knew.

"Nothing Darling, ciao." He replied smugly, his lips stressing a shit-eating grin at his own devious plan. He waltzed away from you to find Zsazs, desperate to let him in on his incredible plan.

You scoff at your dismissal. The fuck was all that about?

Rolling your eyes, your turn to Alex. You take a second to allow the room to catch up with you, "Did you see that?" You ask Alex, moving your head slightly to the side in a nod towards the now retreated Roman. Alex scoffs, placing a pint of water on the bar in front of you. You cut him a look of displeasure but knew you should probably slow down if you wanted to get back safe tonight.

"That guy, my dear, is Mr Sionis." Alex said, lifting his brows as at your confused look.

"Mr Sionis...right, and he is...?" You say, waving your hands in a confused manner.

Alex looked stunted, but continued to serve a few orders before continuing his conversation with you, "Well, Mr Sionis is the owner of this club."

Your eyes widen at the realisation, "The owner?" You mutter.

"Mhm." Alex hummed, amused.

But the conversation took a new direction, a direction Alex was not expecting.

"Tell me about this Mr Sionis, Alex." You murmur, gliding into your soft, convincing voice you used to get information about men.

"Well, he's the owner of this club, and my boss. He pays well." Alex starts, trying his best to close of the conversation.

"Hmm, yes; but what about him? What type of person is he?"

"I don't think--,"

"Alex," you growl, darkly. Your face dropped the sweet smile it had held before and Alex visibly winced. He knew he couldn't say too much, and he didn't know much either, but he also didn't know you, and if living in Gotham had any perks; he knew those eyes - they were the eyes of someone you did not fuck with if you wanted to keep breathing. So, Alex moved across the bar, leaning in on his elbows so he could whisper to you over the loud music; where only the two of you could be heard.

"He, he has a particular personality - colourful, bold,-" Alex starts, his eyes shifting past your figure a few times to make sure he wasnt being watched, "-Possessive. He gets what he wants - always. And he will do anything to do so, there's no limits with the guy. You fuck up, you're done."

"Done?" You whisper back, leaning in closer to Alex, only a hairs breath away.

Alex stalls, trying to find a way to answer your question without sinking himself to that fate. But he doesn't get the chance to, as you're pulling away and turning towards an unknown figure behind you.

The next few moments were a blur.

The next thing Alex knew, there was a face being buried into the hard mahogany of the bar, and the loud crack of the mans nose being broken shook Alex from his trance.

You moved so effortlessly, your movements only so perfect through hours of repetition. You didn't even stumble, and with the effectiveness of your ruminations, practically no attention was drawn to the now escalating scene at the bar.

"On what fucking planet is it ok to grab anyone like the way you just groped me, huh?" You whispered into your assailants ear. They whined and coughed, shifting under the mounting pressure you were placing at their shoulder. You had grabbed them by the arm the moment you felt their hand sliding across your ass, and the quick pinch had you seeing red - moving through muscle memory and destabilising the man by using his own weight against him. He was now bent over the bar, head buried in broken glass, his shoulder ready to pop at any moment. He was at your mercy and your blood turned primitive. You'd had enough of creepy perverts tonight.

"The fuck is wrong with you lady? It wasn't anythin' bad," The man groans, blood pouring from his nose and staining the white shirt he was wearing.

You pressed harder, muffling the pop of his shoulder joint and his cry of pain with a loud laugh, "Say, Frank - how bout you walk out this club now under your own premise before I have you wheeled out in a bodybag?" You sigh.

"The fuck, how'd you know my name was Frank?" he growled, grunting at the pain.

"Not only are you incredibly rude, but you're also rather obnoxious too, you fucking loser." You sneer, shifting his dislocated shoulder further round. He screamed, but only briefly, as you soon shut him up with a face full of glass.

"Fuck off, Frank, and don't come back."

You release him and he instantly turns and scampers away like the injured hyena he was. Rolling your eyes you turn back to Alex, who's eyes are wide with shock.

"Alex..." You mumble, and he gulps, his eyes searching yours out of panic over what you'll do next, "Just fix me a drink and I’ll be off. Sorry for the mess." You say calmly as if nothing happened. And that's the way it seemed, as no one even batted an eyelid to the violent display from moments ago. Alex says nothing but does as he's told, making you up an extra strong rum and coke. You down the drink and place the glass down.

"Where's the emergency exit?" You ask Alex, and he points to the door behind the bar. You smile, sliding him a small tip - hush money - and exit the building.

You made it about five minutes down the road before things began to get weird - real weird. This wasnt the same type of blurry you got from alcohol, this was colourful, dazy.

"Fuck - that fucker drugged me!" You sneer, words merging together as you propped yourself up against a brick wall. You tried to run over the events in your head, wondering where you tripped up. And then it hit you, the pint glass - when you leaned in to talk to Alex, he’d slipped something in the drink.

"Fu-cckk" You mumble, eyes incredibly droopy now.

You needed to get back to your flat, safety - yes.

But you didn't, as when you tried to move your legs they gave out from under you. This was an incredibly dangerous situation for anyone to be in, especially a young woman on the streets of Gotham. But the drugs worked quickly against your system, and before you had any time to prepare yourself for your inevitable demise, you blacked out