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Black Suits, White Teeth and Murderous Eyes

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"Thank you, have a nice day!" Your faux-enthusiastic voice rang out as the customers you'd been waiting on left the restaurant.

You sighed as you picked up your tip, a measly three dollars, and stuffed it in your apron. You checked your watch and you had two minutes until you were officially off. Smirking, you smoothed down your black and white wrap dress and headed toward the back. Right before you opened the door to the break room, your name was called by your boss.

"Stay late today!" He ordered, much to your annoyance, "We have a special customer coming in!" You rolled your eyes but nodded in agreement. He walked over to you, his eyes scanning your body. "Fix yourself up a little," He muttered, now beside you, "It's a very important customer."

Your face felt hot but you nodded, going into the locker room and opening your locker. As you took your bun down and brushed your hair, the question of the customer ran through your head. 'Important customer' usually eluded to a crime boss or crooked cop, which meant you had to look very presentable so the pigs would oogle you and return for something other than the food.

You frowned as you fixed your makeup and added a line of black eyeliner to your lid. You dabbed red lipstick on your lips before rolling your dress up to your mid thigh, securing it with a pin. Lastly, you switched your comfortable flats for black heels.

Now ready, you walked out the locker room confidently and stood next to your boss at the podium. The restaurant had cleared out now and everyone was gone, save for the chef and a busboy. The door chimed open and a burly man held the door open for a smaller man with a limp.

Your eyes widened slightly in realization. It was the Penguin and his famous lackie Butch. After the two walked in, another man, who you didn't recognize came in.
"Penguin!" Your boss welcome the man with a huge grin. "Welcome! My finest waitress will lead you to your table!"

An almost robotic smile ticked on your face then. "Good evening gentlemen." You purred, "Right this way." The men followed after you as you led them to a booth in the back. You handed them menus before continuing. You said your name, "I will be serving you this evening, can I start you off with drinks?"

"I'll have your finest wine for the table." The Penguin said, a smile on his face.

You nodded, "Right away, sir." You walked to the kitchen, making sure to sway your hips.

"Greta," Your brow furrowed, seeing your friend in the kitchen. "I didn't know you were still here."

The blonde shrugged, "I was about to leave when Gary pushed me back in the kitchen." She paused as you loaded the wine and glasses on your tray. "Something about important guests?"

You rolled your eyes and nodded, turning to walk out the kitchen. "I'll tell you in a sec." Smile back on your face, you walked back to the table before gracefully pouring wine in the gentlemen's glasses.

"Are you ready to order?" You asked, batting your eyelashes.

The man you didn't know smirked at you, looking you up and down. "I'll have the Chicken Au Champagne, sweet cheeks."

You nodded, noting the order in your head to Butch. "And for you, sir?"

The burly man shook his head. "Nothing for me, thanks."

The Penguin smiled tightly. "Now Butch, it is impolite to come to a restaurant and not eat anything." His smile dropped before he commanded, "Order."

Butch seemed to twitch then, blinking one eye at a time. "Pork chops." He finally got out, not looking up at you.

Your pleasant smile didn't falter and you nodded once again. "And for you Mr. Cobblepot?"

At the sound of his last name the odd, bird-like man looked up at you. He smiled once again, but it wasn't as cruel as the smile he gave to Butch. "What do you recommend?”

You licked your bottom lip before answering professionally. "Our Pan-Seared Sea Scallops with Truffle cream is a favorite of mine, sir."

With a another crooked smile, Penguin nodded. "I'll take your word for it, miss."

You grinned once again and nodded to them, taking up their menus. "It'll be out shortly gentlemen."

You walked back to the kitchen and finally exhaled, before telling the chef their order.

"So," Greta asked, "Who's out there?"

"The Penguin, Butch and some other guy I don't know." You replied, putting the menus on the counter.

"Yikes, glad I'm not you." Greta remarked, crossing her legs.

You rolled your eyes, "Thanks for the support, G." You got up from your spot in the kitchen and walked back out to your table.

"Is everything alright?" You asked, "Can I get you anything else?"

Penguin grinned at you, his white, crooked teeth bared. "We are fine. Why don't you sit down and join us?" He suggested and your smile faltered for the first time that day.

Knowing you could not refuse, you sat down next to the man you didn't know with your hand in your lap.

"Tell me miss," The bird-like man started, "Do you like working here?"

Feeling as though it were a trick, you nodded enthusiastically. "Yes sir, very much."

The man beside you grinned. "You don't have to lie, sweet cheeks. This here is the man that could take you out your misery." He leaned closer to you and whispered, "So could I..."

Penguin cleared his throat and the man straightened up. He smiled, "I am simply making small talk my dear. Nothing more."

You smiled uneasily. "Excuse me," You got up from the table, "I will check on your food."

You hurried back to the kitchen and was relieved to see the food wasn't ready. You sat down next to Greta and sighed. "They asked me about my job." You uttered. "And how I like it here. What the hell does that mean?"

Greta shrugged. "What did you say?"

"That I love it." You faked a gag and she giggled.

"Good! Wouldn't want Gary to have a conniption, would we?" A blonde eyebrow raised.

You laughed at her remark, your frightened feelings easing away.

"Ready!" The chef's voice chimed and you got your tray. He placed the plates delicately on the tray and you walked out carefully. As you approached the table you heard the latter part of their conversation. "...Brandon Hill."

Your boyfriend's name.

You swallow thickly before placing a smile on your face. You placed the correct plates before each man before trying to take your leave.

"Miss!" Penguin called and you had no choice but to turn around.

"Yes?" You chimed in reply, your smile tight.

"These scallops are excellent. Very good choice." The bird-like man smiled and you faked a giggle.

"Thank you, Mr. Cobblepot." Your smile dropped as you hurried back the kitchen.

The rest of the night was a blur after that. They finished their meal and left you a hefty tip along with a business card for Penguin's club. 'If you ever get tired of Gary, come see me.' it said.

You arrived home late, at about eleven o'clock, with a plate of leftovers for your boyfriend. You unlocked the door to your rowhouse and walked up the steps to find Brandon sitting on the couch waiting for you.

"Hey, babe." He called out as you walked over and pecked his lips.

"Hey Bran, I brought you leftovers." You said holding up the bags and walking into the kitchen.

The brunette jumped off the couch then and joined you at the kitchen bar. He took a seat on the stool as you handed him a plate and a beer.

"How was your day?" He asked, the dimple in his cheek flexing as he chewed.

"Exhausting." You groaned taking a seat next to him. "My feet hurt like hell."

"Aw," Brandon cooed his eyes a lit, "I'll rub them for you."

You smiled a pecked his cheek. "Thank you, baby. How was work?"

He paused for a moment, then smiled. "Great."

"That's good." You nodded.

You didn't exactly know what Brandon did at work. He said he worked security or something like that. In a city like Gotham security could mean a number of things, but as long as the bills were paid on time it didn’t matter to you. After the two of you ate, Brandon offered to clean the kitchen while you showered.

You took a very long and steamy shower, the water making your tense muscles relax. When your fingers started to prune you got out of the shower and dried yourself off. Now that you were clean, you changed into a thin blue tank top and a pair of boy shorts.

You sighed as you laid down on your comfy bed with fresh linen sheets. You closed your eyes and laid back in the bed, moaning in delight. The tingling feeling of someone’s eyes on you crept up your spine. "Brandon?" You called out, thinking it was just your boyfriend.

"I'll be up in a minute babe!" His voice sounded from downstairs.

You shrugged the feeling off and arched your back, stretching your arms and legs out around you. "I love my job." You mumbled, repeating it over and over as you popped the tense bones in your body.

Footsteps came towards you and sat up, smiling at Brandon as he took his shirt off.

"I know how to make you relax." The brunette grinned lewdly, fumbling with his pants.

You giggled and sat up in the bed as he crawled towards you placing sweet kisses on your mouth. "I don't feel like it Brandon," You whined as he kissed your neck. "Can't you rub my feet?"

"I could rub something else..." He trailed off as his fingers pinched at your nipples through your thin tank top.

Your body immediately responded, but you continued to protest. "Brandon." You whined once more and he chuckled at you.

"Fine, fine." The brunette boy took your feet and his large hands and massaged them, pressing a kiss to each toe.

You sighed in content. "I love you Brandon." You cooed, nearly moaning out the man’s name.

Brandon laughed, his pretty eyes staring up at you. "Of course, you do babe.” He smirked smugly, “Love you too."

You smiled softly at him and closed your eyes, drifting off to sleep.

It was the middle of the night when your eyes fluttered open. Half awake and confused, you turned over to Brandon and smiled softly when you saw his sleeping face. Your eyes lazily rose over his body and you saw a shadow standing there.

Your eyebrows furrowed, were you dreaming? Or was this real?

As your eyes adjusted to the dark, the shadow began to look like a man. A grinning bald man. He raised his finger up to his lips as he winked at you with a twinkle in his eye.

You nodded sleepily, still thinking it was a dream and snuggled back against Brandon. You began to drift off again but was awoken by a muffled bang, followed by the splashing of liquid on you.

You sat up then, confused and touched your face, seeing red on your fingertips. Your brows furrowed and you paused before turning to look at Brandon. As your eyes met the gruesome scene in front of you, you opened your mouth to let out a scream.

The scream never made it out as a gloved hand covered your mouth.

"Ah, ah, ah." The shadow whispered, his gloved pressed to your mouth, "None of that."

You panicked, hyperventilating against the man's hand. Brandon was dead in the bed you two shared, his head blown off, and his blood, brains and skin was on you. You pushed away from the man and ran down the steps but you didn't get too far before he pushed you against the wall.

The man was much taller than you, about a full head, and was bald, no hair or eyebrows. His eyes were dark and his skin was pale, and he wore a black designer suit and gloves, he looked like the devil himself.

He put his gun to your forehead and you cried, tears streaming down your cheeks.

"Aw," He cooed at you with a grin, "Don't worry. You're not my mission." He jabbed the gun into your forehead then chuckled. "It's just so fun messing with you."

"I don't understand!” You sobbed, “Who are you? What did Brandon..."

The bald man began to shush you, as if you were a baby, effectively silencing your sobs. "Shut up." He then muttered, before finally removing his gun from your forehead. His eyes stared into yours unblinkingly before his leather-clad hand wrapped around your throat. He lifted you off the ground slightly, and your feet arched, fighting to touch the floor. His eyes scanned your face before he softly cooed, "You're a pretty one, aren't you?"

You looked at him with wide eyes as you struggled against his hold. You gagged, trying to get air in your lungs and his eyes flickered to your mouth.

"Look at that pink tongue." He mused aloud, his eyes shining. "I'd love to cut it out. And how you gag so pretty for me."

"Who are you?" You croaked out again, gripping his strong wrist with both your hands.

"My name," He grinned widely, "Is Victor Zsasz."

"Please," You begged with your last breath, "I can't breathe, Victor."

At the sound of his name he let you go and you dropped to the floor. You coughed and gasped, your hands going to your sore throat. As Victor bent down to your level, you scrambled to the wall to get away from him but he just came closer to you, his dark eyes staring straight into yours.

Without looking away from your eyes, he opened a switchblade, pointing it to you. Your eyes did not dare drop from his as he began to lightly trace your collarbone with the knife. You tried not to move, scared that it would make him cut you. When he finished with your collarbone, he traced the knife down to your nipple, which was embarrassingly hard. He tapped your nipple with the blade through your tank top and you let out a shallow breath, making him squint his eyes at you.

"What a sound..." He breathed out with a grin before taking his blade lower. He traced the sharp metal down your stomach while watching your reaction unblinkingly. As the blade got closer and closer to the top of your panties you finally worked up the courage to speak.

“Stop." You finally said and he chuckled lowly.

"All you had to say." The bald man muttered, putting the knife away. He watched you for a moment more before taking his right leather glove off of his hand. The pale man reached out for you, his bare knuckles softly caressing your cheek. You were shaking with fright but you didn’t dare say anything.

He clenched his jaw and retracted his hand, putting his leather glove back on. He stood up and adjusted his suit jacket, looking down at you. "You're not my mission," He repeated before adding, "But I can't wait to play with you, kitten.”

Chapter Text

The next two weeks of your life were the worst that you have ever had to endure.

You spent everyday crying in a ball and frightened for your life. You kept seeing that strange man Victor everywhere. You even thought you saw him at your boyfriend's funeral, grinning at you from behind the crowd at the cemetery.

During those two weeks of grieving, work was the last thing on your mind, causing you to receive a phone call from a very angry Gary. To put it in simpler words; you were fired.

It was just another thing to add to your list of disappointments. You had to find another job, and quick because you had found an apartment downtown to live in. You couldn't stand to stay in that rowhouse any longer; as hard as you scrubbed the walls and the floor, Brandon’s blood wouldn’t come out.

So here you currently were, in a pencil skirt and button up in front of Penguin's lounge.

You took a deep breath before opening the doors to the lounge. The smell of perfume and alcohol filled your senses as your heels clacked against the linoleum. You spotted Butch at the bar and a smile twitched on to your face.

"Hello." You chimed, leaning against the bar. "You probably don't remember me but-"

"Oh," Butch interjected with a grin, "I remember you. Let me get my boss." The burly man left you, walking towards a booth at the front of the stage.

You swallowed thickly, and stood by the bar, waiting for Butch to come back. You looked around the lounge, which seemed to be rose-tinted, and your eyes studied it. There were few people seated at the tables and the sound of idle chatter rang through the lounge.

Butch walked back to you and said with a smile, “Right this way, ma’am.” He then turned around and began walking toward the back of the lounge.

You followed after him, making it a point to keep your shoulders down and your chin up. Butch led you to a booth toward the front of the stage, where Penguin was sitting. When you met the strange man’s eyes, you smiled in greeting.

“Hello Mr. Cobblepot, sir. May I sit with you?” You asked with a grin.

The black-haired man grinned at you and nodded. “Please.” You sat down daintily as he continued, “What brings you here to my lounge Miss?”

“Well,” You replied breathily, “To be honest, Mr. Cobblepot, I need a job.”

“Oh?” Penguin asked, a smirk on his face. “What happened to your job at Gary’s?”

Your smile faltered and you bit your lip. “I can’t lie to you, sir.” You cleared your throat, “Gary fired me.”

“Fired you?” The bird-like man furrowed his dark brows, “Why?”

You paused for a moment, your eyes suddenly looking at your folded hands on the table. “My boyfriend was murdered.” You whispered, “A little over two weeks ago and I was so distraught, I didn’t go into work for some time. So,” You paused, then your voice croaked out, “He fired me.”

Mr. Cobblepot put one of his hands on yours and you looked up at him, your eyes meeting his clear, green ones. “I am sorry for your loss, Miss. I’d be honored for you to work for me.”

You sniffled and shook your head softly, laughing lightly. “Mr. Cobblepot, honored is a very strong word.”

Mr. Cobblepot grinned, “Indeed it is. Tell me, have you ever tended the bar at Gary’s?”

You nodded, “Whenever the regular got a night off, I took over the bar for him.”

Mr. Cobblepot clapped his hands, “Excellent! You shall be my new bartender. Can you start tomorrow night at six?”

“Of course!” You exclaimed, but then caught yourself. You continued in a calm voice, “I mean, that sounds great.” You bit your lip to contain your smile.

The bird-like man watched you with a grin. “Now, about pay.” He started and you listened eagerly, “You’ll get paid every Friday, $35 an hour and you get to keep your tips. Does that sound satisfactory to you?”

You grinned widely, “More than satisfactory.”

“Wonderful! I’ll see you tomorrow at six.” Mr. Cobblepot smiled as you stood up.

“Thank you so much, Mr. Cobblepot, you don’t know how much this means to me.”

“It’s the least I could do.” Penguin grinned, his teeth bared, “Really.”

You gave him one last smile and turned to walk out of the lounge. When you reached the doors, your name was called. You looked back to see Butch walking towards you.

“Boss says I gotta drive you home if you walked here, ma’am.” Butch informed you, before walking in front of you and opening the back door to an SUV.

You shook your head, “That is really not necessary, I’ll be fine.”

Butch twitched slightly and insisted, “Penguin’s orders, ma’am.”

Rolling your eyes, you got in the car. Butch shut the door behind you and walked over to the driver’s seat.

“Where to?” He asked, and you gave him your new address.

When Butch pulled up to your apartment building, he opened the door for you again. You thanked him, and stepped out.

“See you tomorrow, Miss.” Butch nodded to you, before getting in the SUV.

You took the stairs up to your apartment, wanting to get your exercise, and reached your home ten minutes later. Out of breath, and very happy, you unlocked your door and bolted it behind you. You kicked off your heels and unzipped your skirt, letting it drop to the floor. You unbuttoned your shirt and let it fall to the ground also and walked to your bathroom to run yourself a bath.

The apartment you had found was very simple. It was a studio with an open layout; the only wall in the apartment separated the bedroom from the kitchen, dining, and living room. The living room was the first thing you saw when you walked into the apartment, it had a cream-colored sofa, coffee table, and television. The kitchen was a flurry of white tile and silver appliances, and the dining area was adjacent to the kitchen, where a tiny table with three place settings sat against the windowed wall. Before you got to the kitchen, a door separating the kitchen area from the living area led to your bedroom, where only a bed, a dresser and a vanity sat. The only bathroom was in the bedroom, and it had a tub with a shower head, a toilet and a sink.

You stripped yourself of your stockings and underwear then sank into the hot water, breathing the aroma therapy candles in as you reflected on the day.

You got a job! A high paying job at a lounge. Maybe this was the start of things looking up for you. Maybe Brandon was putting in a good word for you with the man upstairs and your luck was changing.

You hummed a random tune as you washed yourself, before getting out the tube and draining the water. You dried yourself off and walked to your kitchen in your towel, opening your fridge and looking for something to eat. You clicked your tongue at the lack of options before settling on making yourself some hamburger helper.

You began to hum again as you cooked the hamburger meat and added the noodles. As your dinner cooked on the stove, you walked into your bedroom and dropped your towel. You pulled on one of Brandon’s old tees and a pair of underwear before returning to the kitchen and plating your dinner.

You sat on your sofa while you ate and mindlessly watched television. When you were done eating, you washed your dishes and got snuggled into your bed, finding a good book to read.

Somewhere between reading the same sentence over again and snoring, you startled yourself awake, looking around the room in alarm. Ever since Brandon had been killed you’d have nightmares, sometimes they would end with Victor Zsasz killing you after he killed Brandon, other times they would began when Victor was teasing you with the knife and it would go further than it went in reality. Either way, the dreams scared you and on this particular night, you dreamed of the latter.

You laid in bed for a few moments, staring into the darkness. A sound from your other room made you sit up in your bed. You listened closely with furrowed brows and heard another noise, like a clanging dish. You got up from your bed and grabbed the baseball bat you kept in your bedroom, before standing in front of your bedroom door. You quietly counted to five before opening the door and walking into your main room.

It was dark, the only light coming from the street lights outside, and it was quiet. Your eyes scanned your living room and kitchen but you found nothing. You sighed to yourself and put the bat down, shaking your head at your paranoia. You turn to walk back into your bedroom but was interrupted by a voice.

“You’re a good cook.”

Your hand tightened around the bat as you flicked the light in your kitchen on. You slowly turned around and the sight you were met with made your eyes widened.

The source of your nightmares was sitting at your dining table eating your leftovers on your plate. He was wearing his usual black get up; a stark black designer suit, a black button up, a black tie, and black patent shoes. His black gloves were placed on the table beside his plate. He was clearly amused at the sight of you, as he was grinning widely. The sound of the fork hitting the plate seemed to echo through the small apartment and he paused to take a sip of red wine.

You watched the bald man on high alert, easing your way into your kitchen. You put the bat down on the floor slowly before standing straight once again. Reaching behind you, you took the largest knife out of the wooden block and hiding it behind your back.

You found the courage to finally speak. “Why are you here?”

Victor swallowed before answering, “My boss told me to keep an eye on you so that’s what I’m doing.” He finished, raising the wine glass to his lips.

You moved closer to him very slowly, the knife still behind your back. “Who’s your boss?”

The pale man clicked his teeth, “Sorry, can’t tell you that kitten.” He ran his tongue over his white teeth before his eyes flickered to you. He grinned before eating another bite of beef, sliding the meat of the fork teasingly. “Whatcha got behind your back?”

You tried to keep your face neutral as you shook your head. “Nothing.” You breathed out, now standing a yard away from him.

“Nothing huh?” Victor replied with a nod. He wiped his mouth with a napkin before abruptly getting up from the table with the empty plate and his glass in his hand. He walked over to you and you jumped away from him. He stood in front of you with his dark eyes on yours as he put the dishes in the sink behind you. He took the knife out of your hand by the blade, holding it in front of your face. The knife dug into his hand but he didn’t so much as flinch, even as the blood dripped from his palm. “ I won’t lie to you, don’t lie to me.” He simply said, dropping the knife in the sink. He stepped away from you and took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his hand.

You licked your lips and let out a breath. You looked up at him with watery eyes. “Why did you kill Brandon?”

“He was a job.” The bald man drawled out, turning to face you again.

“Is that what you do?” You asked bravely, “You kill people?”

“On a good day.” Victor grinned, his white teeth gleaming. “I just follow my boss’ orders.”

You nodded and looked down, playing with your fingers. “Is your name really Victor?” You inquired, biting your lip.

“Yes.” He answered simply, putting his hands in his pockets. He grinned, seeming to rock on his feet, and chimed, “You look tired kitten, why don’t you go back to sleep? I’ll clean up after myself.”

Your eyes flickered to his to see that he was looking closely at your face. You shook your head, “I’m not tired.” You insisted, though a yawn fought to leave your mouth.

Victor chuckled as he returned to his seat at the table. “If it’s any consolation,” He started, leaning back in the chair, “I won’t be here when you wake up.”

You bit your lip before soundlessly grabbing your bat and going into your bedroom. You locked the door behind you, just in case, and laid down in bed. You stared at the dark ceiling and tried to stay awake but you were far too tired. You thought, if you were lucky, you’d wake up and that this would all be a dream.

You didn’t have much luck.

Chapter Text

You slept better than you did in a long time that night and you didn’t wake up until four o’clock the next day. Instead of feeling groggy, you felt rested and rejuvenated. Sunlight streamed into your bedroom and it almost looked heavenly, until reality started to set in. You got out of bed and wiped your eyes, grabbing your baseball bat. You unlocked your bedroom door and looked into the main room cautiously.

Victor was gone and your kitchen was clean. You threw the bat down as your stomach started to growl. You fixed yourself a bowl of cereal and sat at your dining table, looking out your window.

As you ate, numerous question sprang up in your head. What did Victor want from you? Who was his boss? Why was he following you? And why the hell did he call you ‘kitten’?

You finished your cereal and washed the bowl out. Your house phone began to ring and you reached over to answer it. “Hello?”

“Hello Miss, this is Butch.” The burly man’s voice rang from the receiver. “I was just calling to tell you I’m picking you up at 5:30.”

“Alright, thanks.” You muttered hanging up the phone. You walked into your bathroom and turned the shower on, stripping out of your pajamas. You put your hair up to avoid getting it wet and hopped in the shower. The steam seemed to calm you down as you cleansed yourself, the smell of your body wash wafting through the air.

You turned the water off and dried yourself, wrapping the fluffy towel around you. You then began to brush your teeth, staring at your reflection in the mirror. You spit and rinsed your mouth before walking into your bedroom and laying out an outfit.

At 5:45 pm you were stepping out of the car Penguin sent for you to come into work. Wearing a trendy cocktail dress and flats, you were dressed for your first day at your new job. You even took the extra time to curl your hair and pin it up. You looked pretty, Butch’s mouth even dropped when he saw you.

“Thanks Butch.” You smiled to the burly man and he nodded to you. You walked into the lounge and went behind the counter, washing your hands before you started to prepare drinks. About fifteen minutes later, customers started to come up to you and you mixed their drinks, even getting a few tips. A couple of men flirted with you while you worked, but no one really bothered you.

After a while, Butch came and sat at the bar.

“What can I get for you?” You asked, a teasing smile on your lips.

“Water, no ice.” Butch ordered turning around and scanning the lounge with his eyes.

You filled a glass with water and handed it to Butch, who in turn reached into his pocket to tip you. “Oh no,” You shook your head, “You’re not allowed to tip me.”

Butch shook his head and tried to hand you the bills. “I’m not a freeloader.”

You rolled your eyes, “No Butch, we’re co-workers and you got a water. No effort on my part, keep your money.”

The burly man stared at you for a moment before putting the money back in his pocket. “You’re a good one kid,” He shook his head, “We’ll see how long that lasts.” He got up from the bar and walked back into the lounge.

You wiped your hands and rolled your eyes at what he said. Maybe you should have took the tip.

“Gin and tonic.” A voice ordered from the bar and when you looked up it was your new boss, staring at you with a friendly smile.

“Right away, sir.” You politely nodded, making his drink.

“How’s your first day?” The bird-like man questioned, his green eyes on your face.

You put a lime at the corner of his glass and slid his drink to him. “It’s great. The patrons here are very friendly.”

“And generous?” He asked, innocent enough, taking a sip of his drink.

You laughed, covering your mouth with your hand. “Yes, they’re very generous.” You paused for a moment before smiling, “Thank you for this opportunity, Mr. Cobblepot.”

“Oh no, my dear,” Mr. Cobblepot smiled his teeth shining, “I should be thanking you! I’ve been in need of a good barkeep for weeks now, and here you are.” The odd man got up from the bar stool and reached in his pocket to tip you.

“Mr. Cobblepot-” You started to protest but he shook his head.

“No, no, none of that. You make a good drink, I tip you, that’s how this works.” The dark-haired man put a hundred dollar bill on the bar and slid it towards you.

You picked it up with wide eyes and shook your head, “Mr. Cobblepot, no! I can’t accept this.” You held it out for him to take back but he shook his head.

He took the bill from you and put it back in your hand, holding his hand over yours. His green eyes looked into your and he smiled again, “You’re insulting me. Keep it.” You pursed your lips but nodded taking your hand away from his and putting the bill in the pocket of your apron.

Penguin started to walk away before turning back to you, his eyes flickered up and down your body before nodding to himself. “You look very nice today.” He complimented, in a matter of fact tone and your face got hot. You thanked him and he gave you one last smile before limping away.

The rest of your shift was easygoing and you made a substantial amount of money from tips. By the time your shift was over, it was nearly two in the morning. Your curls had fallen, your feet were sore and you smelt like smoke and alcohol.

You packed up your things, stuffing your tips in your purse, before turning to walk out the door. You paused, instead turning around to walk to the lounge’s back office. You knocked on the door quietly and a voice told you to come in.

The office had dark walls and wooden floors and Mr. Cobblepot was sitting at a black desk in the middle of the room looking through papers. He glanced up at you from his work and a smile spread across his face. “Please,” He started motioning to the chairs in front of him, “Sit down.” You obeyed, sitting down in one of the plush loungers in front of his desk. The dark-haired man folded his hands in front of him, “What can I do for you, my dear?”

You shook your head, “Nothing Mr. Cobblepot, you’ve already done more than enough. I just wanted to thank you again for this job.”

Mr. Cobblepot smiled thinly, “You’re a grateful one, aren’t you?”

Your face felt hot and you swallowed thickly before nodding. You sighed, “I just didn’t know how I was going to afford to pay my bills or rent after Gary fired me. And then with my boyfriend’s death…” You paused before running a hand through your hair. “The last two weeks have been the worst of my entire life, but you giving me this job has really helped me out.” You started to get choked up then, tears building in your eyes. You shook your head with a laugh as you wiped your eyes. “I’m sorry if I’m bothering you.”

“You aren’t.” Mr. Cobblepot assured you. He got up from his chair and hobbled over to the front of his desk, standing before you. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a monogrammed handkerchief, handing it to you. As you wiped your tears he watched you with a soft smile. “It is endearing to have someone so grateful to be working for me. That means you’ll do good work.”

You smiled up at him with watery eyes and tried to hand him back his handkerchief. He put his hand over yours and shook his head. “Keep it.” You put your other hand over his and looked up at him through your lashes. “I promise I won’t let you down, Mr. Cobblepot.”

The bird-like man’s clear, green eyes flickered down to your lips and back to your eyes before nodding with a smile. “I know you won’t.” He brought your hands up to his mouth before pressing a kiss on your knuckles. Your eyes fluttered in surprise as he let your hands go. He hobbled back to his desk chair and sat down. “You should get home now, dear. Butch should be waiting outside for you.”

You swallowed thickly and nodded getting up from the plush chair. “Good night Mr. Cobblepot.” You chimed as you left the office.

“Good night.” He replied, watching you as you shut the door.

You walked through the front door of the lounge, seemingly in a daze. Butch opened the door for you and you nodded to him dreamily, sitting in the backseat. The whole ride home you stared straight ahead with your brows furrowed.

Your hands played with the dark, satin handkerchief, your fingers running over the initials over and over again.

‘O.C.C.’

Chapter Text

After your first day of work, the time seemed to fly by. Before you knew it a whole month had passed by. You loved your new job, you even made friends with a couple of the female performers. Hell, Butch even took a liking to you, though of course the burly man never showed it.

Another person seemed to becoming very fond of you; your boss. Every time you worked you could feel his eyes on you, though you would normally just smile and ignore it. He always came to the bar at the same time every night and ordered the same drink, a gin and tonic, then he would leave you a hundred dollar bill.

“Hey barmaid,” A feminine voice teased, “Get me a scotch and coke.”

You looked up from the glass you were drying and laughed when you saw who was speaking to you. It was your friend Greta from Gary’s old place. “Hey Gee.” You greeted before pouring her drink.

“Hey bunny! I haven’t talked to you in ages!” The blonde pouted as you slid her the drink.

“I know!” You exclaimed, leaning on the bar. “I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too, pretty girl. Though,” She smirked behind her glass, “I heard someone’s been treating you real swell here.”

You rolled your eyes, “Who told you that?”

“Gerri.”

“You know Gerri?” You asked, surprised that the blonde knew the redhead.

“Yeah we went to beauty school together.” Greta told you, sliding her glass to you.

You refilled it and snickered. “Both of you flunked out, huh?”

“Shut up.” The blonde waitress snapped before a smirk found a way back on her face. “Gerri told me that a certain bird has really taken a liking to you.”

“Ha ha ha.” You remarked dryly, before smiling pleasantly at another patron.

Greta chuckled in reply. “Aw don’t be like that! He’s cute!” She teased, “In a Van Gogh kind of way.”

“Hey!” You protested with a frown. “Don’t say that, he’s nice.”

The blonde snorted, “Yeah, his money is.”

“He’s sweet.” You defended the dark-haired man. “And I’m lucky he even gave me this job.”

“Luck doesn’t have anything to do with it, bunny.” Greta laughed mockingly. “He’s had his eye on you ever since he came in Gary’s that day.”

“Oh come one Gee.” You breathed out, exasperated. “Mr. Cobblepot’s a nice guy. Yeah he’s in crime or whatever but that doesn’t mean he’s a horrible person.” You paused before muttering, “He saved my life, Gee.”

“Sounds like you’ve become a little fond of him, honey bun.” Greta commented, drinking the last sip of her drink.

You shook your head, “I just don’t think you should be talking ill of my boss, that’s all.”

Greta hummed and slapped a ten on the counter. “Okay bunny.” She conceded, her hands up in surrender. “Whatever you say. I’m going to go hang with Gerri in the back.”

“Okay Gee.” You waved, “Don’t be a stranger.” The blonde nodded to you and made her way backstage. In the midst of you wiping the counter down, someone else sat in the bar stool in front of you. You looked up and saw green eyes watching you. “I know, I know.” You grinned prettily at your boss. “A gin and tonic.”

Mr. Cobblepot chuckled as you slid the drink to him. “Am I that predictable?”

“No.” You shook your head before laughing. “I just know what you like, boss.”

“Oh?” He raised a dark brow, “What do I like then?”

“Well,” You started, taking a rag out of your apron and drying a glass. “You like the finer things in life. The gin and tonic is a classic drink for aristocrats and the wealthy.”

Mr. Cobblepot smiled behind his glass, his eyes on you as he took a sip. “You are correct in your presumptions madam.” He put the glass down and smiled, an unsaid joke between the two of you. “I do enjoy the finer things.” He muttered as his green eyes stared hardly into yours.

Your lashes fluttered and you looked away, tending to another patron at the bar.

“I have a proposition for you.” Your boss stated and your attention was back on him. He cleared his throat before continuing. “I am hosting an event at my house this weekend and I want you to attend.”

You blinked in surprise. “Attend?” You questioned, “Like work during it?”

“No.” The bird-like man shook his head. “I want you attend the event as my guest.”

“Oh.” You muttered before shrugging. “Okay. Sure.”

Mr. Cobblepot’s eyes lit up at your answer. “Fantastic!” He grinned, “Now it’s a formal event-”

“Formal?” You inquired with a frown. “I won’t have anything to wear.”

He waved your dilemna off with a roll of his eyes, “I’ll take care of that. You just have to worry about attending.”

“I don’t have a car…” You uttered but your boss shook his head.

“Butch will drive you.”

Running out of excuses and problems you acquiesced, nodding with a small smile. “Okay Mr. Cobblepot. I’d love to come.”

“Wonderful.” Your boss exclaimed with a grin. He got up from the stool and slid you his customary hundred dollar bill before limping away.

The rest of your shift was filled with thoughts on this ‘event’ that Mr. Cobblepot was talking about. You kind of felt bad about agreeing to attend because you felt as if you were leading him on. But it wasn’t as if you found the odd man horribly unattractive...even with his limping gait, he still had very pretty eyes and it helped that he was so kind to you.

You shook your head. Why were you thinking about it in that way? He was your boss and probably just being friendly by inviting you. It’s not like he asked you to marry him.

When it was the end of your shift you shuffled into your boss’ office. You said goodnight to him and walked out to the car where Butch was waiting for you. The burly man drove you home and you thanked him, before walking up the stairs to your apartment.

You held your heels in your hand and sighed as you unlocked the door to your apartment. Opening the door, you paused in the doorway when you saw a black-clad being laying on your couch. You shut the door behind you and locked it before walking into your bedroom.

You changed into sweatpants and a tank top, putting your hair into a knot at the top of your head. It was late, as it always was when you got off and you were hungry. You walked into your kitchen and fixed yourself a ham and cheese sandwich, toasting the bread to melt the cheese. You dumped some Lay’s on your plate and grabbed a coke before walking to your living room.

As soon as you got closer to him, the pale man’s head lazily rolled to the side and his dark eyes opened, looking at you amusedly. “Hello kitten.” His voice was raspy and filled with sleep. His gloves were off his hands and on your coffee table, along with his twin pistols. His black patent shoes were also off, meticulously sat by the couch.

You didn’t say anything in return, instead sitting in your arm chair with your legs crossed under you and eating your sandwich. You took a sip of your coke as he sat up, a mocking yawn coming from his lips.

“How was work?” He questioned like a lover that had been waiting up for you.

“Great.” You dryly replied, your mouth full of ham. “How was murdering people?”

“Fantastic.” Victor breathed out with a grin. He reached over and grabbed the other half of your sandwich before taking a bite. “Delicious.” He remarked with a gleam in his eye.

“Don’t you have someone else to harass?” You asked with a roll of your eyes.

Victor shook his head with a grin, “Not until Tuesday.”

“Ha ha ha.” You muttered, going to grab your coke. The bald man beat you to it, taking a long sip of the drink. You pursed your lips in annoyance as you watched his jaw flex with every swallow. The hitman had a very strong jaw and very smooth skin, like marble.

“Sometimes,” Victor started, knowing you were staring at him. “I watch you sleep.” The statement caught you off guard and the trance you were in was broken. When he had your attention he continued, “You talk in your sleep at times...you know what I always hear you mumble?”

You swallowed thickly and shook your head silently, waiting for his answer.

The pale man swallowed a bite of his sandwich before smirking. “Victor.” He muttered, seemingly imitating your voice.

You froze before getting up from the arm chair and scoffing. “I do not.” You protested grabbing your empty plate and walking to your kitchen.

“You do.” The assassin’s voice chimed as he stood from the couch. He slowly began to walk towards you, taking long strides. “And you want to know what else?”

“No.” Your jaw clenched as you scrubbed at your plate.

“You beg for me.” He told you, now right behind you. “You moan my name. But,” He paused, stepping closer towards you. You felt his breath at the valley of your shoulder and neck, “It never seems to be in pain.”

You whipped around and glared at him, your nostrils flared in anger. “You’re lying.” You snapped, a fire in your eyes.

“I don’t lie.” The pale man simply retorted, his expression neutral. “I have no reason to.”

You chuckled humorlessly, “Is that the only sin you won’t commit?”

Victor’s lips flickered down and scanned your body, spending a considerate time at your lips before returning to your eyes. “Yes.” He breathed out before clenching his jaw.

Your angry resolve faltered as your eyes fluttered at the sight. He was so close to you...all it would take was a slight elevation on your part and the two of you would be-

Your phone ringing brought you out of your thoughts and made you jump. You blinked and quickly turned away from the hitman, answering your phone.

“Hello?” You answered raspily before clearing your throat. “Hello?”

“Hello, dear.” Your boss’ voice came from the phone. “I hope I did not wake you.”

“Mr. Cobblepot?” You questioned before shaking your head. “No I wasn’t asleep. Is something wrong?”

“No nothing's the matter. I just wanted to inform you that your dress should be delivered to you tomorrow along with a little present from me.”

You sighed, though your lips spread into a smile, “Mr. Cobblepot, the dress was enough! You didn’t have to get me something else.”

Mr. Cobblepot chuckled, “I insist, my dear. The car will come and pick you up at seven.”

“Alright, boss. See you then.”

“Good night, dear.” He said in your ear as you hung up the phone.

You sighed and turned around, only to jump when your eyes met Victor’s. You had nearly bumped into him, he was standing so close to you. The two of you watched each other for a long moment before you turned away. “I’m going to sleep.” You muttered, walking into your bedroom. You began to close the door but a pale hand shot between the doorframe.

The pale man’s dark eyes met yours through the crack in the door and he uttered, “Don’t lock it.”

You said nothing in reply, just closing the bedroom door. You stood there for a beat, staring at the door knob before taking off your sweat pants and getting into bed. You tried to stay awake but you ended up drifting off to sleep with one person on your mind.

You didn’t lock the bedroom door from then on.

Chapter Text

The horizon was dark, the only light coming from the full moon. The road Butch was taking seemed to be deserted, you hadn’t seen another car.

You were nervous; you hadn’t been out since Brandon had died, but you looked beautiful. Your hair was pinned away from your face and your face painted with blush, liner, mascara and deep rouge lipstick. Your shoulders were bare, though a midnight black gown hugged your body all the way down to the floor where black pumps embraced your feet.

Your stunning look didn’t help deter the butterflies in your stomach and all you could think about were the negatives… Like the skimpy underwear you had on that was riding up your crack as you sat in the back of a dark SUV. And you desperately wanted to rub your left eye but you couldn’t because it would mess up your make-up. And the slit in your gown was up way too high, making you feel exposed. And-

“We’re almost there, boss lady.” Butch informed you from the driver seat.

“Don’t call me that.” You rolled your eyes at the henchman as you played with the pendant of your necklace. Oh, your necklace. A brand new diamond pendant on a sterling silver chain, compliments of your boss. The pendant hung low, just above your cleavage, and sparkled in the light. It was the most expensive necklace you had ever seen, let alone worn.

You looked out the window of the car as Butch turned into a long driveway lined with trees. A gasp left your lips as the car pulled up to a large, gothic style mansion. The home looked more like a castle, with large roofs and pointed arches. Guests were already going into the house, dressed to the nines, and a valet was parking cars.

Butch pulled up to the entrance of the mansion and got out of the car, walking around and opening the door for you. He held his hand out and helped you step out of the SUV.

You thanked the burly man and walked up the steps and into the entrance, smiling at the other guests. The party was in the foyer and living area of the home. All the furniture was seemingly put away and there was a band, well more like an orchestra, playing to the side of the room. Servers were walking around in suits with trays of hors d'oeuvres and a bar was set up on the far left of the room.

You took a flute of champagne from a tray and sipped on the bubbly beverage, scanning the room with your eyes. You recognized some of the guests as patrons and workers from the lounge, though some people looked way more important. You spotted familiar blonde hair and smiled, making your way over to them.

You tapped her on the shoulder and the blonde whirled around, her eyes widening when she saw it was you.

“Bunny!” Greta exclaimed, wrapping her arms around you. The blonde woman was dressed in a cream gown with cap sleeves, her hair wavy and down.

You laughed and hugged her back. The two of you pulled away from each other with matching grins. “What are you doing here, Gee?” You asked her.

“Gerri brought me as her plus one.” The blonde explained as she looked you up and down. She let out a low, teasing whistle. “You look amazing!”

You did a mocking twirl and Greta laughed. “You don’t looks so bad yourself, blondie.”

Greta winked at you, “So where’s your favorite birdie?”

“Gee…” You sighed out, rolling your eyes. “Don’t do it.”

“I’m kidding, pretty girl! It’s a joke, see?” Greta jested, following it up with an exaggerated laugh. You watched her with a bored expression and she snickered. “I bet he bought you that dress, huh?” She asked before her eyes traveled to your neck. “Nice necklace, honey bun. Where’d-” The blonde woman was cut off as a clanking sounded through the foyer.

Everyone’s attention turned to the top of the stairs where Mr. Cobblepot was standing, an older blonde woman on his arm.

“Looks like you got some competition, eh?” Greta snickered, nudging you. “Shut up!” You snapped quietly as he began to speak.

“Thank you for coming to my event!” The bird-like man’s voice rang out. “We are here to celebrate the prosperous month that my lounge has had and it’s all thanks to all of you. Give yourselves a hand!” Everyone applauded, some even cheered. “Thank you for your contributions and please enjoy yourselves.” Mr. Cobblepot finished his speech and walked down the huge staircase.

With that, everyone returned to their conversations. Greta turned to you with a smirk. You rolled your eyes, “What?”

“Nothing.” The blonde insisted, biting her lip to keep from smiling. Her eyes seemed to twinkle as she looked behind you. “Look alive, bunny.” She whispered to you.

You glanced behind you to see Mr. Cobblepot and the blonde woman approaching you. You turned back to Greta to see that she was gone. You muttered curses under your breath before turning around with a huge smile on your face. “Hello Mr. Cobblepot.” You greeted your boss.

The bird-like man was dressed in a tightly tailored, black, designer tuxedo. The older woman beside him was dressed in a retro, 1940’s gown with a lacey overlay. The woman reminded you of a 30’s movie star with her thin eyebrows and red lips.

Mr. Cobblepot smiled fondly at you. “Good evening, dear.” His clear, green eyes gave you a once over before his grin widened. “You look dazzling.” Your face got warm and you looked away from his stare, instead turning to the woman beside him who was watching you with a small smile. “Oh, how rude of me. Dear, this is my darling mother.”

The blonde woman held her hand out to you, “Gertrud Kapelput.” You shook her hand and smiled at her prettily. “Oh!” She gasped and you blinked in confusion. “Your teeth are so white and straight! Oswald, look at how white her teeth are! Such a pretty girl!” She cooed at you and you laughed, unsure of what else to do.

“Mother!” Mr. Cobblepot muttered to the woman before turning his attention back to you. “I apologize.”

“It’s fine.” You assured your boss with a grin, “I’m flattered.”

“See Oswald?” Ms. Kapelput chimed, “The pretty girl’s flattered!” The blonde woman’s attention switched to the live band playing. “I am going to listen to the music. You two should talk while I am away, yes?” The mother chatted, not waiting for an answer before she walked away.

“I am so sorry.” Mr. Cobblepot babbled bashfully, his pale cheeks tinted pink.

You laughed and shook your head. “It alright. I think she’s sweet.” You assured him before changing the subject. “You have a lovely home.”

“Thank you.” The bird-like man breathed out, thankful you had changed the topic. “Mother decorated it, I didn’t have much of a say.”

You nodded, looking at the architecture of the room. “It’s very vintage.” It was quiet between you two for a moment as you looked around the room. When you looked back to Mr. Cobblepot, the dark-haired man was already watching you. He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by Butch walking up to the two of you.

“Boss,” Butch started but Mr. Cobblepot shook his head. “A little busy right now Butch!” The burly man twitched but insisted, “Detective Gordon is out front, Boss.”

Mr. Cobblepot frowned but nodded before turning back to you. “If you would excuse me, my dear. I’ll be right back.” You nodded and Mr. Cobblepot limped off with Butch.

You let out the breath you had been holding in and grabbed another champagne flute, chugging it down. You put your hands behind your back and began to walk around the room, greeting some of the showgirls from the lounge. You spotted a door leading out to a balcony and walked out of it.

No one was on the large balcony, which you were thankful for. The sound of the party was muted behind the balcony doors and the silence of the outside was calming. You breathed in the fresh air and looked out into the dark night sky. You were so far away from the city that you could actually see the stars. You’d gotten so wrapped up in gazing at the stars that you did not notice a person standing behind you.

“Hello kitten.”

You swallowed thickly but did not turn around, instead continuing to gaze at the sky. “Are you here to push me off the ledge?” You jested in a dry tone.

Victor chuckled and stood beside you, leaning against the railing and facing you. “Not unless you want me to.”

You glanced at him from the side of your eye to see he was smirking at you. “Must you look at me like that?” You grumbled with a glare.

“When you're in that dress?” The bald man raised an nonexistent brow before breathing out, “Yes.”

“Why are you even here?” You snapped, finally turning to him fully.

The assassin’s eyes scanned your face for a moment before grinning. “I’m here for business. But you being here makes it pleasure.” Victor’s grin widened when he saw your face flush.

You quickly looked away from his face, causing you to scan his outfit. He was wearing, surprise, a black suit, though his matching pistols were missing from his ensemble. “Unarmed Mr. Zsasz? How out of character.” You noted nonchalantly.

“I’m never unarmed, kitten.” Victor assured you, holding up a switchblade. The same blade, you noted, that he teased you with after he killed Brandon. He twirled it in between his long, pale fingers and you watched unblinkingly, swallowing thickly.

All those dreams you’ve had involving that knife came to the forefront of your mind and you tried to silence the moan that threatened to leave your lips. Risking getting nicked by the knife, your hand reach out and grabbed his wrist. The pale man’s dark eyes burned into yours as he let go off the knife, causing it to fall to the ground. In a quick motion his hand clamped down on your wrist and turned it over, folding it back. He yanked you towards him and you fell forward, your other hand going up to his chest.

You looked up at him with wide eyes as he looked down at you with a clenched jaw. “If you don’t want me to touch you, don’t touch me.” He muttered, his dark eyes glaring at you harshly.

You searched his eyes as soft breaths escaped from your mouth. Your tongue flicked out and wet your bottom lip. “What if I want you to?” You breathed out. Your hand shot out to the ledge behind you as Victor pushed you against it.

The assassin’s nostrils flared, “What?” He inquired darkly, his eyes on your lips.

“What if,” You started in a hushed tone, your hands fingering the lapels of his suit jacket. “I want you to touch me?”

Victor put his hands on both sides of you, leaning down until he was right above your face. “Say it.” He demanded harshly, in a voice so low you could barely hear.

You tugged on his suit, leaning up until your lips were almost touching his and stared into his dark eyes. “Touch me.” You rasped out and the tall man let out a low groan. His hands finally wrapped themselves around you and tugged your body closer to his. You raised yourself up to press your lips against his but his hand shot up and gripped your hair, tugging your head back.

“Did I say you could kiss me, kitten?” Victor muttered as he leaned down and ghosted his lips against your bare shoulder, “Well?”

“No.” You uttered in response, your eyes fluttering closed.

Victor chuckled against your skin before pulling away from you. You looked at him curiously as he kneeled down in front of you, picking up his knife before teasingly dragging it up your bare leg that was exposed from the slit in your dress. “We’re going to have so much fun, kitten.” He grinned up at you, his white teeth bared. He then got up from the ground and walked back into the foyer, leaving you breathing heavily with wide eyes.

You quickly fixed your hair and smoothed out your dress before walking back into the party. You found Mr. Cobblepot standing in the place you were earlier and walked back to him with a pleasant smile.

The bird-like man spotted you and smiled, “Where’d you run off to?” He asked as you stood before him.

“I just needed some air.” You explained, your secret wafting through the air.

Chapter Text

Voices and music were carried throughout the lounge as you stacked drinks on a metal tray. You looked to see if any patron needed anything before picking the tray up and carrying it through the lounge, ducking backstage. You knocked on the door and it was opened for you, the sound of girls cheering as you walked in the dressing room.

“Yeah, yeah.” You laughed, putting the tray down. “I got a mojito for Francine, a black and tan for Mary, an orgasm for Bobbi, a bacardi for Sam and last but never least, a classic martini for Gerri.”

“You’re the best, bunny!” Gerri exclaimed sipping on her drink. She pulled a stack of twenties from her bra and handed you a good amount of them.

“Thanks girls,” You smiled, picking up your tray and cheering as you left the room, “Break a leg.” You made your way to the office in the backroom of the lounge and knocked twice, patiently waiting for a response. The door opened and a burly man peeked out the door, smirking when he saw it was you. He opened the door fully and stepped aside letting you walk in. The dark-haired man sitting at the desk didn’t look up, seemingly immersed in his work.

“Sorry to disturb you boss,” You started, taking the gin and tonic that you had made from the tray, “But you were late for your appointment.”

Mr. Cobblepot looked up from his papers, smiling widely when he saw it was you. “I apologize. I let the time get away from me and it won’t happen again.”

“Better not.” You teased with a smile, handing Butch a water with no ice. You left the office and returned to your post, manning the bar. After a few more shots and shaken martinis you decided to go collect the cups from the girls.

You grabbed your tray and went backstage knocking on the door once and opening it. No one was in the dressing room as you hurriedly collected the glasses, shutting the door behind you. You made your way to the office and knocked hearing a quiet, “Come in.”

You opened the door and closed it behind you, picking up the empty glass.

Mr. Cobblepot looked up at you with furrowed brows, “Why are you picking up dishes? Where are my waitresses?”

You shrugged, thinking it was no big deal. “I don’t mind-”

The bird-like man interrupted you, shaking his head. “You are my barkeep, not a waitress. You do not pick up dishes.”

“Okay, okay,” You say, trying to appease him, “I won’t do it again.”

Mr. Cobblepot’s clear green eyes sized you up for a full, uncomfortable minute before he leaned back in his chair. “Have a seat.”

You bit your lip and obeyed, placing the tray down on the floor. You swallowed thickly and looked at your feet, preparing yourself to be fired.

Mr. Cobblepot held a big pile of papers out to you, “Look at these receipts and separate them by sums more than a hundred dollars and sums less than a hundred dollars.”

You looked up in surprise and furrowed your brows, taking the papers from him. “Sir…?”

“I need to see why I am coming up short from last month’s profits and you are going to be my extra pair of eyes.” The dark-haired man explained, looking at his own pile of papers.

“But what about the bar?” You inquired with wide eyes.

Mr. Cobblepot stared at you boredly and picked up his office phone, dialing a number. “Butch,” He said into the phone, “Come to my office.” He hung up the phone and a few moments later the burly man came through the door. “Get the dishes from the floor and man the bar.” He ordered, not even looking at Butch.

You watched the burly man twitch and obey, lifting the tray from the floor and leaving the room. “Satisfied?” Your boss asked and you nodded wordlessly, starting to look through the receipts.

An hour later, you were still sorting through the receipts. You had pulled you hair back into bun and taken off your shoes, sitting in the chair with your legs crossed under you. As you tried to add numbers up on a calculator, you chewed on the top of a pen in thought, feeling eyes on you. “These sums aren’t adding up, boss.” You muttered, flickering your eyes up. “You’re about a thousand short.”

Mr. Cobblepot grimaced and set his jaw. “Did you find a discrepancy in dates?”

“Um...” You uttered, taking out a few other receipts. You froze and bit your lip, seeing a familiar name.

“Well?” Your boss urged, his green eyes on you unblinkingly.

“Gerri was waiting tables when money went missing.” You said, slowly handing him the paper. “Every time she had a shift, money disappeared.”

Mr. Cobblepot’s eyes scanned over the papers quickly and his nostrils flared angrily. He huffed out a breath and suddenly banged his fist against the desk, making you jump. “I give her an opportunity and she steals from me!” He stands up from his chair and you jump back, watching him stalk around the office and angrily rambling.

This goes on for ten minutes before he turns to you suddenly. “Find Butch and tell him to take you home.” He ordered, his eyes hard. You blinked and opened your mouth to protest but he sternly said, “Now.”

You nodded and rushed out of the office, frantically looking for the burly lackey. When you found him you told him what Mr. Cobblepot said and he drove you home.

You walked up the steps to your apartment barefoot, for in your haste you had forgotten your shoes. You unlocked your apartment door and walked in, locking the door behind yourself. You slid down the door and slumped on the floor.

Your mind went to Gerri and what was likely going to happen to her. Would he kill her in front of the other girls as a warning? Did Gerri have any family that would look for her? What would Greta say to you when she found her friend died?

All of a sudden the guilt started to weigh you down. You were the one who discovered it was Gerri who was stealing. Maybe you should have lied and said you didn't find anything. You could have warned her but instead you ran. Just like you could have warned Brandon about the shadow behind him…

Before you knew what was happening tears trailed down your cheeks. You bit your lip and got up from the floor, walking into your bedroom. You took your cocktail dress off and went into your bathroom, turning your shower on and standing under the water. You scrubbed your skin until it was raw and tinted red, then got out, drying yourself off and wrapping the towel around your body.

You walked into your main room and opened your refrigerator, getting a bottle of water and taking a huge gulp.

“What’s for dinner?” Victor’s voice sounded and you turned around to see him sitting at your dining table.

You sighed and shook your head, leaning against the kitchen counter. “I am not in the mood, Victor.”

“Oh,” Victor breathed mockingly, a teasing frown on his face. “Bad day at the office?”

“I may have caused the death of one of my friends.” You muttered, chewing on your lip.

“Congratulations, your first kill.” The mercenary grinned, getting up from the chair in a fluid movement.

You scoffed as he walked towards you, stopping in front of you. “This isn't a joke, I could have stopped it…”

Victor chuckled, shaking his head. “Is that really what you think? That a little girl like you could protect someone?” You frowned and made a move to leave the room but Victor placed his arms on each side of you, trapping you. “People die everyday, kitten. Your friend is just a body to add to the pile.” His dark eyes bore into yours as you blinked away tears, swallowing thickly. “Suck it up.” He snapped, removing his hands from the counter.

You were quiet for a moment, standing there in your kitchen in a towel. You cleared your throat and nodded silently, walking into your bedroom and shutting the door. You dropped the towel and went through your drawers, looking for something to wear. You sniffled as you put underwear on and shrugged on one of Brandon’s old sweatshirt, reveling in its warmth.

Walking out of your bedroom, you walked to your kitchen, seeing Victor already asleep on the couch. You poured yourself a bowl of cereal and sat on your armchair, putting your feet up on the coffee table. You munched on your cereal and stared into space, your apartment deathly silent. As you ate, your eyes seem to go to Victor.

The pale man was sleeping in an upright position, his face blank and eyes closed. His weapons were placed on the coffee table, perfectly lined up with each other. His suit jacket was folded meticulously and placed on the back of the couch. His expensive-looking cufflinks were unbuttoned and his shirt was rolled up in perfect cuffs to his forearms.

You squinted your eyes at the newly exposed skin, seeing scars and angry red marks. You put your feet down and placed your cereal bowl on the table, getting up from the armchair and squatting in front of the couch. You took a quick look at Victor to see that his eyes were still closed and his breathing was still shallow. You bit your lip and took a closer look at the pale man’s arm.

Victor had linear scars on his arm, one place after the other. Some were healed and just raised lines on his skin, some were still healing, and others were fresh and angrily red. You slowly raised your hand to touch the scars, looking up at Victor to make sure he was still asleep. With the lightest touch you could muster you traced the lines, feeling the skin slightly raise under your fingertips. You marveled at the marks, so much so that it made you forget who they belonged to.

When you looked up dark eyes were watching you. You tried to move away but Victor grabbed your wrist. The two of you stared at each other in silence before you finally spoke, “Did do that to yourself?”

“Yes.” Victor answered shortly, his grip still on your wrist.

“Why?”

The bald man raised a nonexistent brow then teased, “If I tell you, you’ll cry again.”

You scoffed, feeling offended by his insinuation. “No I won’t.”

Victor smirked and let your wrist go, leaning towards you, like it was a secret, “It’s a tally of how many people I’ve killed.” He told you lowly.

Your face blanched and your eyes widened while your mind tried to remember how many marks you counted. As a realization came to your mind, you looked up at Victor, who was watching your reaction with a smug expression. “Which one is Brandon?” You whispered, searching his eyes for an answer. Victor silently rolled his up his sleeve up further and pointed to a healing red mark.

You got off the floor and sat on the couch with your legs under you. You kissed the tips of your fingers and placed them on the mark, a bitter smile on your lips. You sat back on your knees and looked up at Victor, “Was it really you at the the funeral? Watching me from the crowd?”

“Yes.” Victor answered shortly.

You bit your lip at his answer and got up from the couch, walking into your bedroom and closing the door behind you.

You cried yourself to sleep that night.

Chapter Text

You gasped as Nancy sunk further into the tub and Freddy’s gloved hand came closer to her. You were currently seated with your legs crossed under you on your couch with a bowl of popcorn in your lap.

You had called in sick to work, breaking out your patented fake cough to top it off, because you wanted to avoid the lounge. Of course Mr. Cobblepot granted you a day off, even offering to come over with a container of his mother's soup. You politely declined the soup, but told your boss to say ‘hello’ to his mother for you.

The whole day was spent watching movies, painting your nails, eating junk and giving yourself facials. You were braless, pantsless, and had an oversized tee on, completely comfortable in your small living room.

You popped another piece of popcorn in your mouth and jumped once more as Johnny Depp got butchered, his blood spurting on the ceiling. A knock at the door stole your attention from the television. You got up from the couch and looked through your peephole, seeing a man holding a vase of flowers.

You furrowed your brows and opened your door. “Delivery ma’am!” The man informed you, handing you the flowers. You thanked the delivery guy and closed the door, locking it behind him. You placed the roses on your dining room table and opened the pretty pink card that came with them. In a neat, calligraphic script, was written:

‘To my favorite barkeep,

Get well soon.

O. Cobblepot’

Your face spread into a small smile and you put the card back on the vase.

You walked over to your refrigerator and took out a tub of ice cream, walking back to your couch and resuming your viewing of Freddy Krueger’s memoirs. Just as Nancy was waving goodbye to her mother, a clawed hand reached out and grabbed her; at the same exact moment, hands clamped down on your shoulders.

You let out a bloodcurdling scream, dropping your tub of ice cream on the floor. You continued to scream until a hand went over your mouth, effectively silencing you. You panicked, throwing your head back and looking above you.

Your eyes met dark ones and you furrowed your brows. Victor Zsasz was grinning manically down at you, dressed immaculately as always.

“Victor?” You breathed out, trying to calm your breath. You got up from the couch and started to clean the food you spilled up. “What are you doing here?”

“Just checking in, kitten.” He walked into your kitchen and opened your fridge, going through it like he resided there.

You got up from the floor and walked around Victor, throwing the soiled food away. You leaned against your counter and crossed your arms. “Can I help you?”

The assassin took out a bottle of water and unscrewed the top, taking a large gulp of the liquid. “No.” His dark eyes went to the flowers on your table and he raised a hairless brow.

“From my boss, not that it's any of your business, Mr. Zsasz.” You replied to his unasked question, reaching around him and grabbing paper towels. You wet them and walked back into your living room, getting on your knees and cleaning the spot out of your carpet. As you scrubbed the cream out of the cloth, you tried not to stare at the handsome man sharing your apartment with you.

Victor was now seated on your couch and in the process of meticulously unarming himself. He took off his suit jacket and folded it in half neatly, placing it on the back of your couch. He unbuttoned his cufflinks and took both of his pistols out, placing them side by side on the coffee table, angling them until they were lined together. He took his cell phone out of his pocket and placed it on the table, lining it up with everything else. The pale man leaned back into the couch and closed his eyes, placing his long legs in front of him.

You stared at him for a moment, watching as his breath started to slow down, before getting up from the carpet and throwing the towels away. You then sat on the opposite end of the couch, resting your head on the arm of the couch and putting your feet up. You were careful not to touch the mercenary at the end of the sofa.

Somewhere between ‘Five, six, grab your crucifix’ and ‘Seven, eight, better stay up late’, you fell asleep. In the darkness of your dreams, you saw Brandon’s face. He was sitting at the end of the couch and rubbing your feet, placing a kiss on each toe like he used to. You giggled, twitching as Brandon smirked at you.

You bit your lip and sat up, pressing your lips to Brandon’s. He lifted you on his lap and kissed you back feverishly. You grinded on your boyfriend’s lap, laughing when he groaned into your mouth. His hands went under your sweatshirt and you pulled it off, throwing it somewhere in the room. Brandon laid you down on the couch and trailed kisses down to your panties before grinning up at you. He slid them off of your legs and began to devour you.

You moaned and threw your head back, your eyes closing in delight. Your hands shot down to grip Brandon’s head but when you didn’t feel his brown hair your head shot up. Instead light brown eyes, your eyes met dark, almost black ones and pale skin stood out from between your thighs.

Your eyes fluttered open and you looked around, frowning when you discovered you weren’t in your rowhouse anymore; you were in your one bedroom apartment and instead of tan hands rubbing your feet, they were pale.

You looked up at Victor to see his eyes were trained on the television but he was absentmindedly massaging your feet. You tongue flicked out and licked your bottom lip and you sat up, scooting closer to the mercenary with your feet in his lap. “How long was I asleep?”

“An hour.” The bald man answered shortly, popping a bone in your foot. “You were moaning in your sleep again.”

You hummed in response and sat up on the couch, putting your chin on your knees and outright staring at the pale man on your couch. Victor’s eyes flickered to you before going back to the television screen. “Aren’t you suppose to be ill?” He inquired raising a hairless brow.

“What are you the hooky police?” You retorted, twitching as the pale man tugged at one of your toes.

“I could be.” Victor replied dully, though a smirk was on his face.

You giggled, teasing in a low voice, “Are you going to punish me officer?”

The bald man still did not look at you, even as one of his hands went between your legs, toying with the fabric of your panties. “I might.” He muttered, blankly. His ring and middle fingers brushed up against you, making you shudder. Your breathed hitched in your throat as he pushed your panties aside, brushing against your bare lips. “Kitten…” He rasped out in a chiding tone, his middle finger caressing your clit. You licked at the corner of your mouth, watching Victor’s face with fluttering lids.

“Come here.” He demanded, motioning to his lap. You obeyed, raising your arms when he began to pull your sweatshirt off of you.

With your chest bare you leaned down to Victor’s lips. The mercenary smirked, tugging your head back when you tried to kiss him. He clicked his tongue against his teeth, “Impatient and disobedient. What a combination.” He yanked your head back further and ghosted his lips against your neck, his other hand wrapped around your back. You swallowed thickly as he started to nip at your skin, his long fingers gripping your scalp.

Victor let go of your hair and pulled your hands away from his shoulders, pinning them behind your back with one hand. His dark eyes stared into yours as his hand trailed up your torso. He didn’t blink as his digits brushed over your nipples, or even as he pinched the nubs tightly between his fingers. You, however, twitched at the slight pain and bit your lip to keep from moaning.

The bald man raised an invisible brow and repeated the action; though this time he pulled at your nipple instead of letting go. You lowly hummed and he smirked, taking his hand off of you. He reached up to your face and used his thumb to make your release your lip from your teeth. He then leaned up and took your bottom lip in his mouth running it between his teeth. You moaned into his mouth and struggled against his grip, yelping when he bit into your lip harshly, making you taste blood. “That hurt.” You muttered, looking down at Victor.

He wolfishly smirked up at you, “Pain is pleasure, kitten. You’ll learn that soon enough.” He let go of your hands, staring up at you unblinkingly as he made you stand in front of him. His dark eyes traced every line of your body like it was a painting in a gallery. He reached up and hooked his fingers in your panties, slowly, agonizingly slowly pulling them down your legs. The pale man pulled you towards him once more, sitting you on his lap and burying a hand in your hair, forcing your head down.

You looked in his eyes and prepared yourself to finally taste his lips as he leaned up to meet you halfway; though instead of kissing you on the lips, he kissed the corner of your mouth. You furrowed your eyebrows at the action but was quickly distracted when he stood up, making you wrap your legs tight around his waist in alarm. He turned around and dropped you on the couch, making you bounce slightly. Out of habit you sat with your back straight against the couch.

Victor’s eyes didn’t stray from you as he meticulously rolled his sleeves up into perfect cuffs. He took the rings off of his fingers and set them on the coffee table behind him in a straight line, then yanked you to the edge of the couch. “Are you going to be a good girl for me?” He inquired lowly, a hand on you chin.

“Yes.” You whispered in response, feeling his thumb run over your bottom lip. He pulled your lip down and you opened your mouth for him, lewdly licking at his thumb and sucking on it.

The mercenary watched with a blank face removed his thumb from your mouth, leaning forward and brushing his nose against your neck with such intimacy you almost mistook it for love. The vision was ruined when he simultaneously bit into your neck and forced two fingers long fingers inside you.

You croaked out a groan at the sensation, feeling Victor lick the blood from your neck, leaving a bruise. Victor leaned away from you until his face was just in front of yours, staring unnervingly deeply into your eyes as he curled his fingers. You exhaled harshly through your nose, refusing to make any noise, though your lids did flutter a bit.

Victor saw the disobedience in your eyes and raised a hairless brow before increasing the speed of his fingers and adding another for good measure. You clenched your jaw and dug your nails into the couch, still not making a sound.

Victor’s thumb brushed against your clit and you threw your head back, biting your tongue; though you did let out a whine. Your eyes fluttered shut as he brushed against your bare nerve continuously. You felt his fingers leave you but you didn’t dare open your eyes, scared of what you might see.

“Look at me.” His voice rasped out and your eyes opened. He was looking up your body with a smirk as he stuck out his tongue, running it up your vulva and under your clitoral hood. He then flattened his tongue and inserted into your hole, making you yelp. Victor’s dark eyes lit in amusement as his hands gripped your thighs, pulling you closer to his face.

You twitched and writhed, thrusting your pelvis into his face. Victor responded by holding your thighs in a vice grip against the couch. He languidly licked at your center, like a lazy cat to a dish of milk. The relaxed pace seemed to arouse you more and he knew it, smirking up at you as he leaned back. He looked deeply in your eyes and pursed his lips, spitting on your cunt before diving back in.

Pale hands found their way to your chest and harshly pinched your nipples, rolling them between their fingers. You placed your hands over his and bit your lip, nearly screaming when he started to speed his tongue up. He took a hand from your chest and tried to slide four fingers into you, your cunt squeezing his hand. The burning feeling of you stretching around him made you grimace but he soothed you by sucking hard on your clit.

Your stomach jolted and you tried to scoot away from him but he used his other hand to grip your hip, keeping you in place. Just as he began to curl his fingers, a song sounded through the small apartment. You furrowed your eyebrows as he let go of your hip and reached behind him, his fingers not slowing.

Victor looked down at you with his dark eyes as he answered his phone. “Yes?” He rasped, blinking blankly. A voice sounded from the phone and he smirked, “Just eating.” You narrowed your eyes at his mocking tone and he raised a hairless brow, taking his thumb and rubbing your clit quickly. Your eyes widened and you held in a moan, not wanting whoever was on the phone to hear you.

“Yes.” He answered into the phone again, almost boredly as he made you writhe. “I know.” He then said peeved, before smirking down at you as your walls tightened around his fingers.

You exhaled shakily and held yourself up by your elbows, your face twisting in a grimace as you felt your orgasm coming up fast. Victor continued to halfheartedly listen to whoever was on the phone, but his eyes were taking you in. Gritting your teeth, you began to move your pelvis with his fingers, nudging them in and out of you. In response he pushed his long pale fingers deeper into you, curling them upwards.

“Give me a moment.” Victor muttered into the phone. He put the phone on the coffee table and kneeled before you once more, burying his face into your center and sucking on your clit. You grabbed a throw pillow and screamed into it as you spasmed, cumming hard on Victor’s face.

Your back arched off the couch and your toes curled, a tear streaming down your cheek. Victor raised from you, though his fingers did not move from inside you as he lifted the phone back up to his ear. “I’m back.”

You put the pillow down and covered your mouth with your hand as he lazily slid his fingers in and out of you. “I will be there, boss.” He pulled his fingers out of you and looked at you expectantly. You removed your hand and opened your mouth, Victor sliding his fingers in. You looked into his eyes and sucked yourself from them enticingly.

The mercenary set his jaw and he exhaled harshly through his nose. “Okay.” He said through clenched teeth, glaring down at you. You began to bite at his fingers and he narrowed his eyes, yanking them out of your mouth and gripping your chin. He rubbed his thumb over your bottom lip fondly, “Like I said; I will be there.” He stated, flipping the phone shut and placing it on the coffee table. “I,” He started but you flicked your tongue out against his thumb, making him pause. He started again, through clenched teeth, “I have to go. Lucky for you.”

“Why?” You found yourself whining, making him smirk.

“I have work. Not everyone can pretend to be sick.” Victor quipped letting your chin go. He then began rolling his shirt sleeves back down, smoothing the cotton fabric.

You sat on the couch and watched him, your head tilted. He left the room and went into your bedroom, and seemingly your bathroom. You got up from the couch and put on his suit jacket, the cloth draping over your body. You padded into your bathroom and stood in the doorway, seeing that Victor was washing his face.

“Stay.” You whispered lowly, passing him a towel to dry his face. He looked over to you in the mirror and his eyes flickered over your body.

“No.” The pale man answered, slowly taking his jacket off of you and putting it on.

You huffed and went to your dresser, putting on an oversized shirt and running a hand through your hair. Victor passed by you and walked into your living room. You followed him like a puppy and chewed on your lip as he strapped his guns back to his sides, putting his wallet back in his pocket. He fastened the button to his suit jacket and turned towards you, his dark eyes regarding you blankly. He walked over to you and took your head in his hands, pulling your head back and leaning close to your face. You placed your hands on his and looked up at him, waiting for him to kiss you, but he just breathed in your scent, clenching his jaw. He let you go and walked out the door without a word.

You stood there for a couple of minutes after he left, staring at the door. You felt exposed, like you were still bare and underneath him. It was odd; this man, who you should have been terrified of, made you shiver at the sound of his voice. He had consumed your dreams and was starting to take your every waking moment too.

And you felt like he didn’t even care.

Chapter Text

You threw down the the fifth dress you had tried on, picking up the next choice and pressing it against your body. You were in your skivvies, a plain bra and panties set, with your hair in curlers and a frown set on your face.

You had been invited to the Cobblepot residence for tea by Ms. Kapelput and it seemed like all the dresses you owned were tight and short. Discarding the dress you picked up, you dug further into your closet, trying to find a respectable garment to wear.

“Aha!” You yelled out when you found a pretty, pink-laced, A-line dress. You yanked the dress over your head and zipped it up, marveling at yourself in the mirror. The dress was perfect, it hugged your waist and flared out, hitting just above your knee. It was lady-like, sophisticated, and you were sure that Ms. Kapelput would think you were the perfect, nice, respectable girl.

Not that you cared.

You walked into your bathroom and brushed makeup on your face, curling your eyelashes to make you look more innocent. After your face was done, you slowly unrolled the curlers from your hair, fluffing it in the mirror and pinning half of it back.

You walked back into your bedroom and nudged on a pair of pink flats to go with your outfit, then grabbed a pretty white clutch. Your house phone rang and you hurried over to answer it, pressing it to your ear. “Hello?”

“I’m downstairs, boss lady.” Butch’s voice came from the receiver.

You rolled your eyes, “Don’t call me that. I’ll be right down.” You hung up the phone and grabbed your keys, locking up behind you. You decided against taking the stairs like you usually did and pressed the button to the elevator, getting to the lobby quicker.

You walked out of your building and smiled prettily at the burly man standing in front of the town car. “Morning Butch.”

He opened the door for you and nodded, “Morning b-” He stopped when you flashed a look to him, twitching. “Ma’am.”

You laughed and got in the car, thanking him for picking you up. The drive from your apartment to Cobblepot manor was a long one and it gave you time to think about what you were going to say to Ms. Kapelput. “Hi, how are you...no that’s too informal….Hello, how do you do? That’s too formal… Hello…” You muttered to yourself, trying to get it right. Butch just chuckled in the front seat as he made the turn into the manor.

The car stopped and the door was opened for you. You stepped out of the car and took a deep breath as Butch knocked on the door. The huge door was opened to reveal Ms. Kapelput in a very elegant dress. The elder woman grinned at you with red lips, “Oh dear, how nice to see you!” She rushed towards you and embraced you, pulling back to place kisses on your cheeks.

“Hello Ms. Kapelput, thank you for inviting me.” You mentally high-fived yourself for sounding so cultured.

The blonde woman giggled and wiped her lipstick from your cheeks. “Of course! Of course! Oswald does not let me have many friends over but I just knew that he would not mind if
I invited you! Come in, come in!”

Ms. Kapelput ushered you into the manor and led you through the house. You marveled at the antiqued heirlooms, high ceilings, and crystal chandeliers that hung in the home. She led you out to the manor’s beautiful garden, where a white table was set up under a gazebo.

“Sit! Sit!” She waved to you and you obeyed, straightening your back so it would seem like you had perfect posture. She poured you a cup of tea from an expensive and old looking tea set and offered you a pastry.

You took a sip of the tea and smiled at the old woman in thanks. “So Ms. Kapelput,”

“Call me Gertrud!” The blonde woman interjected, taking a bite of a pastry.

“Gertrud,” You corrected yourself, “Did you prepare this garden all by yourself?”

Gertrud laughed and shook her head, “No, no. I picked out the flowers and gardeners came to put them down. It is beautiful, no?”

“Very,” You nodded, looking at the flowers around you. “I’ve always wanted a garden like this.”

“Oh but you could! You are young and pretty! I am sure a man would trip over his own toes to buy you a house with a beautiful garden.” Gertrud cooed, with a secret smile.

Your face flushed when you realized what she was talking about and laughed uneasily. “I don’t know...not many men are the ‘buying’ type these days.”

“Well that’s why you need someone old fashioned,” The blonde woman pondered, “Like my Oswald.”

“He is very sweet.” You acquiesced sheepishly, drinking from your tea cup. “I owe him a great deal.”

“Oh?” Ms. Kapelput raised a brow, her lips forming a perfect ‘o’. “Do tell, dear.”

You put your cup down and licked your lips, smoothing the material of your dress. “My boyfriend was murdered in front of me and I didn’t go into work for quite sometime. My old boss fired me and I thought that I would never be able to find another job. But Mr. Cobblepot offered me a job with better pay and better hours. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

Gertrud pouted her lips and looked at you with watery eyes, her hand over her heart. “How wonderful. It seems my boy was a God send, yes?”

“Exactly,” You nodded, playing with a strand of your hair. “More than that really. I’ll forever be grateful.”

After a couple of hours of tea time, you and Ms. Kapelput had gotten very acquainted. The old woman was very kind and caring. She told you stories of how she used to sing in lounges and go to dime movies with her friends. She even got up and started to sing for you, it was a nice change of scenery from your dingy apartment.

As you and Ms. Kapelput laughed together, a voice rang out from the house. “Mother, who are you oh-!”

You looked over your shoulder and smiled prettily when you saw it was your boss. Gertrud looked between you and her son with a smile before chiming, “Oswald! You will come join us, won’t you?” She inquired, motioning to a seat beside you.

The bird-like man turned pink and began to stammer, “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Oh don’t be silly, Mr. Cobblepot.” You waved the statement off, “This is your house after all.”

Mr. Cobblepot smiled at you and limped over to the chair beside you, sitting down. His mother poured him a cup of tea and reached for her pastry dish, only to discover that the sweets were all gone.

“Oh poo.” Gertrud pouted, getting up from the table. “I will be right back.” She gave her son a look and sauntered back into the house, closing the door behind her.

The dark-haired man leaned over to you, “You look very nice today.”

“Thank you,” You nodded politely before beginning to ramble, “I didn’t know what to wear because I’ve never been invited to tea before. Especially not in a garden as pretty as this one. I guess I’m not as cultured as I thought...” You stopped talking when you saw how intently he was staring at you. “Sorry, sometimes I ramble.”

“I do not mind,” Mr. Cobblepot gave you a comforting smile, “I like to hear you speak.”

You raised your cup up to your mouth to keep from smiling too widely at his comment. You cleared your throat and smoothed out your dress, “How is everything at the lounge?” You asked, hinting to what happened to Gerri.

“I actually wanted to talk to you about that.” Your eyes widened a small bit but Mr. Cobblepot continued to speak, “How would you feel about being my personal assistant?”

“Assistant?” You repeated incredulously, “But what about the bar?”

The bird-like man shrugged, “I’ll find someone else.”

“Mr. Cobblepot,” You slowly shook your head, “I didn’t go to college, I don’t have a degree in that sort of thing. I don’t know if I would be a sufficient assistant…” You trailed off before suggesting, “You should put out an ad in the paper.”

Mr. Cobblepot chuckled lowly and took your hand, making you pause. “I need someone I can trust. And I most certainly trust you. The pay would be double what you make now and you would report directly to me.”

You bit your lip and glanced down at your joined hands. The opportunity was almost too good to pass up but you were afraid. What if you made a mistake and he had you killed? What if you saw too much? But the money…

“Okay.” You finally said, and Mr. Cobblepot’s face lit up with a smile.

“Wonderful.” He breathed, “You’ll be working in my office with me.”

“Can’t wait.” You faked a large smile as Gertrud came out of the house with a dish full of pastries. She took one look at your joined hands and smiled. You quickly took your hands away and tucked your hair behind your ear.

“Oh dear,” Gertrud pouted after she sat down, “I forgot the sugar for the tea.” She sighed, preparing to stand up.

You stop her, standing up yourself. “Oh no, don’t get up. I’ll get it.”

“Darling, you are a guest. Sit down.” Gertrud waved her hand, but you insisted. “Such a good girl.” She cooed, “The sugar is on the kitchen counter, dear. Through the doors and to the left.”

You nodded to her and followed the path, easily finding the large kitchen. You marveled at the marble countertops, high ceilings and latest appliances; though they did still have a wood-burning oven. There was a pleasant smell wafting through the large room and it made you feel at home in a sense.

You quickly spotted the porcelain container full of sugar and picked it up, astonished by how expensive the little container looked. You held it up to your face and examined it, the vibrant black ink contrasting against the naturally white porcelain.

As your eyes focused on the bowl, something or someone beyond your vision was standing outside the kitchen. You quickly looked from the sugar to the dark figure and your eyes widened, seeing familiar brown, almost black, murderous eyes. You blinked your eyes to clear your vision but when you looked back, the figure was gone; though you could hear slow, leisurely footsteps echoing through the parlor.

You bit your lip and walked out the kitchen, the porcelain container still in your hand. You glanced at the garden doors before hurrying by them, going in the direction of the footsteps.

Tap, tap, tap; the sound of men’s dress shoes echoed throughout the house and you tried your best not to make any noise. You followed the footsteps all around the downstairs of the house, trying to catch a glimpse of the person they belonged to. The footsteps stopped around the corner from where you were and you hastily turned the corner.

No one was there.

Your shoulders slumped and you frowned, shaking your head in disbelief. Had you made it all up?

From behind you, you heard footsteps echoing. You quickly turned around with a hopeful expression, only for it to fall. It was just Mr. Cobblepot.

“I got lost.” You sheepishly shrugged, putting on your most innocent face. The bird-like man was so smitten; he didn’t even question it.

On your walk back to the garden, your eyes danced around the house. You weren’t crazy… But it seemed like ever since Victor had come into your life, you started to see him everywhere. Maybe it was just one of those times.

Chapter Text

You placed your pen in your hair as you left your new office, clipboard in hand. It was an hour before opening and you were making your rounds. It had been a month since you were ‘promoted’ and you had easily fallen into step with the procedures around the club. You had to come earlier and you worked longer hours but it was worth it for how much money you were getting paid.

You ran your hand down the clock in sheet and frowned, seeing one of the performers was absent. You made your way to the dressing room and knocked twice before peeking your head in the door. “Is Bobbi in here?” The blonde looked up and waved. “You gotta clock in Bobbi, otherwise I’ll think you're late.” You lightly chided.

“Sorry, boss lady.” Bobbi apologized, hurrying past you to clock in.

You groaned, “Don’t call me that.”

“Bunny,” A tall brunette named Francine called you instead, she raised her leg up in the air, “I gotta hole in my dress, I think Mary’s been wearing it again!”

“Have not!” A high-pitched voice sounded from the closet.

“Okay, okay.” You sighed, putting your hands up, “Mary stop wearing Frannie’s dresses, you know she two sizes smaller than you and Frannie, I’ll fix the hole.”

This was basically your job. You checked paperwork, mothered the girls, and managed the staff. After all was said and done, you basically ran the lounge while Mr. Cobblepot dealt with the criminal underbelly of the club. You were a good pair.

“Keep all your receipts guys, I need them at the end of the night!” You reminded the staff as the doors opened, you greeted the customers before walking back to your office, knocking before you entered.

“You do not have to knock.” Mr. Cobblepot’s voice rang as you sat across from him.

“It’s polite!” You retorted with a pout before your face melted into a smile. “How are you today, boss?”

“Wonderful,” Your boss answered before smiling at you, “I trust you are the same?”

“Yes it was, thanks for asking.” You reply, starting to go through your paperwork.

“Mother has been asking about you lately, she really wishes you would come over for a visit.” Mr. Cobblepot stated in an absentminded tone, though his eyes were fixated on your face.

“That’s sweet, I’ll try to visit soon.” You muttered, taking the pen from your hair and beginning to add numbers together. It was silent for the rest of the time, the only sound being pen scribbling on paper. When you were done adding up last night's receipts and logging in the information, you got up from your chair and left the office.

You made your rounds around the lounge, asking patrons about their experiences and asking if you could get them anything. Everyone seemed to be having a good time, as you got no complaints from anyone.

You headed to the bar and ordered a drink, sipping on your cocktail as you watched one of the girls croon on stage.

Butch joined you at the bar and ordered his regular water with no ice, sitting on the barstool next to you.

“Liking your new gig?” He asked, taking a sip of his drink.

“It's alright.” You shrug, adding, “I’m not much of an authority figure.”

“The girls seem to respect you.” Butch noted.

You smiled fondly, before a morbid thought popped in your head. “I think,” You hesitated and Butch nodded at you to continue, “I think they're scared of me.”

The burly man raised an eyebrow, “Boss says that fear and respect are the same thing.”

“I'm not him and I don't agree.” You finished your drink. “The two are mutually exclusive, I’d rather be respected than feared but I do not deserve either.”

“You’re definitely different, boss lady.” Butch stated with an impressed expression.

You laughed and shook your head, “Just a regular citizen of Gotham trying her best.”

Butch downed his water and set the glass on the counter, getting up from the stool. He leaned into you and muttered lowly, “A regular citizen of Gotham would take advantage of her current position, and I don’t mean your job title.” He buttoned his suit jacket and walked away, leaving you to your empty glass.

You turned towards the bartender and slid your glass to him, “Make it a double.” You grimly said, taking your hair out of it’s ponytail holder and running a hand through it. After another drink you got up from the bar and made your way to the dressing room, knocking twice like you always did before going in.

“Great show, Frannie.” You complimented and the brunette smiled brightly. “Is there anything I can help with in here?”

“My dress hem is too long,” Mary complained with a pout, “I want to show a little more leg, that’s how I get my tips!”

“Why would you want to show those hams?” Francine quipped with a sneer and you held your hand up.

“Francine how about you go get a drink.” You suggest with a maternal tone. The brunette opened her mouth to object but your eyes narrowed dangerously and she left. You turned to Mary and rolled your eyes. “Sorry Mar.” You apologize as you get the sewing kit from the closet.

“It’s okay, Francine is just mad because her boyfriend was staring a little too hard at my ‘hams’.” Mary smirked and you laughed as you tied your hair into a knot at the top of your head.

You hemmed the dress up in no time and sent Mary on stage, leaving the dressing room and walking to the bar. “A gin and tonic please.”

You picked the drink up and walked to your office. You open the door without knocking, citing an early conversation with your boss. You freeze in the doorway when Mr. Cobblepot’s eyes fall on you and the talking in the room halts. It was obviously a business meeting about the underbelly of the business, something you didn’t need to hear.

The thing that puzzled you about the meeting was that there were three people in the office: Mr. Cobblepot, of course, Butch and a bald man. A bald man who slowly turned around to meet your gaze.

“I’m sorry.” You apologize hastily and shut the door behind you. You look down at the drink and down it in one gulp, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. You tried to control your breathing as you hurried to the bathroom, ignoring the looks you got from some of the patrons.

You put the glass down and splashed water on your face, trying not to retch in the sink. Revelations ran through your head and you had to close your eyes at the informational overload. When things finally settled down and you didn’t feel like fainting, you came to one conclusion.

You should have known.

Everything was right in front of your face but you ignored it. The way Mr. Cobblepot and his associates said Brandon’s name, the job offer, the promotions, the favoritism, Victor not telling you who his boss was.

You should have known.

You took a deep breath and looked at your reflection in the mirror, frowning once you realized you were crying. You huffed out a breath and dried your eyes, angry at yourself for crying once again. It seemed all you did was cry and, quite frankly, you were sick of the tears. It was time to be a big girl.

You nodded at your reflection and straightened your dress, relining your lips with red war paint, er, lipstick. After a final blank looked you walked out the bathroom and did your job.

By the end of the night you were sober and somber, but no one could tell by the blank look on your face.

“Receipts!” You called out, snatching the white papers from servers hands. “Give me your receipts, people!” You grabbed the bartender’s and headed backstage to get the girls’.

“I need your tip write ups, ladies.” You stand by the door and the girls all handed you their little slips of paper, saying goodbye as they walked past you. You made your way back to the office and raised your hand to knock but the door opened before you had the chance. Black eyes stared down at you and a lean body slid past yours, his mouth whispering one word, “Tonight.”

When you walked into the office and finished your nightly duties, it was like nothing had happened. Mr. Cobblepot said nothing about Victor or Brandon, instead treating you as kindly as he always did. You left the lounge with a smile that fell as soon as you got into your town car.

You arrived home a little after two in the morning and you trekked up the stairs of your apartment, awake as ever. You unlocked your apartment door and found Victor sitting in your arm chair with a glass of jack, seemingly waiting for you. You closed the door behind you and dropped your purse, shedding your coat and putting your heels off to the side. You walked to your couch and sat down, noting the weapons on the coffee table.

“Does he know?” Was your first question.

Victor took a sip of his drink and stared unblinkingly at you. “No.” He answered, setting his jaw.

“No what?” You insisted, taking your hair out of it’s bun and running a tired hand through it. His black eyes narrowed at your tone and his jaw bone flexed, his hand gripping his glass. You licked your lips when he didn’t answer and you rephrased your question. “What doesn’t he know?”

“All our boss,” Victor stops to chuckle at the words, “Knows is that I killed Brandon. He does not even know that we know each other.” He took a sip of his drink and the ice clacked loudly against the glass, “I’m sure he would be devastated with how I’m touching his darling prized possession.”

“He doesn’t own me.” You quickly protest but Victor laughs.

“Oh but he wants to.” The mercenary leaned forward in his chair and searched your face, “You should hear how he talks about you. He thinks you’re the second coming, made entirely for him. The bird is smitten… I wonder what he would do if he knew how you moan for me in your sleep.”

“Why do you work for him?” You ask, instead of commenting on what was said.

Victor shrugged, leaning back in the chair, “It’s complicated.”

“Why did you kill Brandon?” You question.

“Your little boyfriend was working for a rival of ours and he sent a guy to stake his place out. He returned with pictures of your house and you happen to be in one of them. He’s had his eye on you ever since.” He explained, like he was speaking of the weather.

“If your boss likes me so much,” You paused, scanning Victor’s face, “Why are you risking your job to be with me?”

Victor’s eyes lazily rose to meet your and he finished his drink, putting it on the table and leaning back in his seat. “You’re fun.” He simply answered, placing his hands in his lap with a smirk.

“I’m fun?” You spat, suddenly very angry. “That’s it? You killed my boyfriend and stalked me for weeks for a man that wants me. You ruined my life.” You accused, every word slithering from your mouth like a knife.

Victor raised an invisible brow, “Did I?”

“Yes.” You snapped and he chuckled lowly. “What’s so funny?”

“I didn’t ruin your life. I just did my job.” The pale man muttered, his eyes on yours.

“Fucking me isn’t part of your job.” You countered, getting up from the couch and walking into your kitchen to fix yourself a drink. You grabbed a glass and put ice in it, pouring rum into the glass.

“I didn’t fuck you yet.” Victor breathed behind you, making you jump. You felt his breath on your neck as his he placed both of his arms on each side of you. It was dead silent in your apartment; not even your noisy neighbors were causing a ruckus and you could hear your own breath.

“You like it when I touch you.” He accused lightly and you gripped your glass. “You told me to touch you.” He whispered in your ear, placing a kiss just below your lobe.

You fought a sigh and stared ahead, not allowing him to see you sweat. “If you tell me to stop I will.” His lips move against the skin of your neck and your eyes fluttered closed. “Boss thinks you’re so sweet and pure,” He murmured, “He doesn’t see you like I do, kitten.” The sound of your zipper going down echoed through the silence. He trailed a finger down your spine and you shivered, pressing the front of your body closer to the counter.

You quickly turned around and glared up at Victor, angry tears brimming your eyes. “What am I supposed to do? Just pretend that I don’t know that he killed Brandon? Pretend that I’m not traumatized every time I see him? Pretend like I don’t know you?” You blurted all at once, ending with a huff at how unaffected Victor was by your questions.

“Yes.” The pale man answered simply, placing his face in front of yours. “That’s exactly what you’re going to do.”

“But-!” You protest but Victor stops you.

“Kitten,” He drawls, leaning away from you and crossing his arms, “You have it pretty good. The most powerful man in Gotham wants you. You’re protected and adored and you didn’t even have get on your back. You’re living the life, minus the shitty apartment. The only thing you need to do is stay your sweet little self and everything will be alright.”

You swallowed thickly and shook your head, “I can’t.” You muttered, solemnly.

Victor took a step towards you and placed his hands on your shoulders, leaning down to speak to you as if you were a child, “You can and you will.”

You sniffled and licked your lips, staring at him for a moment. “Well,” You started, speaking lowly, “What about you? What are you going to do?”

“At the present moment?” Victor’s hands pushed your dress of your shoulders and it pooled to the ground, “You.” He lifted you on the counter and got in between your legs, pressing his lips against your neck. You let out a sigh and tilted your head to the side, shivering as he nipped at your neck. His large palms ran up your legs and as he got close to your clothed cunt, his phone began to ring.

Victor leaned away from you and flipped his phone open, answering it with a clenched jaw. “Zsasz.” As he spoke his eyes stayed trained on your face. You tongue licked at the side of your mouth and you reached for your drink behind you, taking a sip and looking up at Victor over your cup.

The pale man took the glass from your hand and took a sip of it himself, setting it down on the counter and holding the phone away from his ear, pressing his cold lips to your neck once more. It made you shiver and he trailed his pecks to your chest, yanking down your bra and nipping at one of your nipples.

“Victor? Victor!” Sounded from the phone and the named mercenary rolled his eyes and pressed the phone to his ear. “Yes?”

You reached out and grabbed the lapels of his suit jacket, tugging the pale man to you, and reached up to peck him on his neck. You wrapped your legs around him and pressed your body against his, hearing him exhale harshly.

“Now?” He almost growled, gripping your thigh in his unoccupied hand. You stopped your exploits and looked up at him in question, your eyes narrowed. “Fine.” He snapped, closing the phone. Victor pocketed his phone and pulled your legs from around him, walking away back to the couch.

“What?” You muttered, jumping from the counter. “Who was that?”

“Our boss.” Victor answered, pocketing his weapons. “I have to go to work.”

He began to walk to your front door and you hurried after him, “Are you coming back?” You question, flinching at how the words came out in a whine.

Victor paused at the door and looked over his shoulder at you before answering simply, “No.” With that, he closed the door.

You wrapped your arms around yourself and stared at the door, clenching your jaw. You huffed, walked back to the kitchen and poured yourself another drink.

What had you gotten yourself into?

Chapter Text

You pulled your dress down for the umpteenth time as you stood in the foyer of Cobblepot manor. You held a flute of champagne in your hand and boredom in your eyes as a mob boss spoke to you about something you had hardly any interest in.

Mr. Cobblepot was having a small get together, at least that’s what he told you. The affair ended up being more of a small city’s worth of people and waiters walking around with little serving platters. It was more of a brunch kind of thing and it was the first time in your life that you actually had ‘brunch food’. You found out that it consists of entrees that were equally lunch and breakfast. All of the people from your job had showed up and the other partygoers were random partners in crime, people you did not want to get to know; you were in enough trouble as it was.

A month had passed since you found out Victor’s secret and you hadn’t seen him since. It did not alarm you though; disappearing for days at a time was Victor’s M.O, you had gotten used to it. Mr. Cobblepot did not suspect a thing and for that you were grateful, but you couldn’t help but look at the man differently. He was still as kind as ever, if not even more so, but you couldn’t help but feel on edge when around him, even with all the beautiful gifts he was sending you.

You should have denied them, you really should have, but your apartment was starting to look empty, so the new couch and dining set was a perfect addition.

You excused yourself from the mob boss and walked to the table of hor dourves, picking a pig in a blanket up and stuffing it in your mouth.

“Good afternoon, dear.” Ms. Kapelput greeted, almost making you choke.

You twirl around and smile, gulping your food down. “Afternoon, Gertrud.”

“Isn’t the food awful?” She muttered to you through her smile, “I tried to cook but Oswald would not let me, the dear. I was a chef, you know.”

“I know, Gertrud.” You smiled back at her, “The best chef in all of Gotham.”

“And don’t forget it.” The old woman winked at you, “Tell me how you are, dear. I hardly ever see you now that Oswald has you running around like a little poodle.” She bluntly stated.

You held in a laugh and nodded, “I know, we hardly have time to do tea like we used to. I have been fine. I work, eat and sleep.”

Gertrud pouted and clicked her tongue, “That is no fun, you need to go out. Like all the other young people do.”

“I would but I have no time.” You told the old woman, shrugging, “And I get all my kicks at the lounge anyway.”

Gertrud smiled and cupped your cheek, “Such a sweet girl. You’re going to grow old like me and regret not going out if you are not careful.” She shook her head before her attention was moved elsewhere. “Oh I told that little boy not to carry the sandwiches with the eggs. Excuse me dear.”

You watched her walk off and your eyes danced over the crowd of elegantly dressed people. You looked down at your simple white, A-line dress and shrugged, taking another huge gulp of champagne.

You were bored out of your mind and sick of smiling at strangers, so you left the parlor and walked to the kitchen to get away from the patrons of the party. You greeted some of the workers with a tight-lipped smile and leaned against one of the many marble counters, putting your glass down.

“Can I have something stronger?” You asked one of the cooks, eyeing your manicure. In reply you got a glass filled with vodka and ice. You nodded in appreciation and sipped on your drink.

As you got lost in thought, the door opened to the kitchen and all the workers filtered out. You looked around you with a furrowed brow until you looked at the doorway. “What are you doing here?”

Victor Zsasz raised a nonexistent brow and walked over to you, dressed in black as always. “Looking for you.” He muttered lowly, his eyes flickering over your face. You rolled your eyes and went to sip out of your glass, only for Victor to pull it out of your hands. He leaned close to your face and looked deeply into your eyes, making you lean away from him. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m not.” You argued, crossing your arms, “Wish I was.”

“What have you had to drink?” He ignored your denial, his unwavering gaze on your eyes.

“I’m not drunk.” You argued again, reeling back as he put a finger in front of your face. He roughly grabbed your chin and made you stand still, looking at your dilated pupils. He turned your head to the side and you grimaced at the feeling of the pads of his fingers digging into your cheek.

“It’s not even noon.” Victor commented disapprovingly as you reached a hand up to grip his wrist.

You yanked your face away from his hand and glared, “It’s the only way I can be here, be around him, you…” You swallowed thickly and unconsciously wiped your eyes. You reached for the glass, “Besides, it’s not hurting anyone.”

“But you.” You rolled your eyes and jumped down from the counter, making a move to leave. Victor planted his hands on either side of you, caging you in. “You’re going to ruin this for yourself.” He muttered and you scoffed.

“I didn’t ask for it.”

“But you got it.” Victor quickly retorted harshly, staring into your eyes unblinkingly. “If you keep up this little game of yours; you will lose it.” He set his jaw and leaned closer to you, lowering his voice, “Don’t think I did not see your new furniture set.”

Your cheeks burned but you glared, crossing your arms over your chest. “Mr. Zsasz,” You started, in a scathing tone, “You sound jealous.”

“Jealousy isn’t the word, kitten.” Victor murmured, “I believe you mean envious, though I would have no reason to be since you most definitely belong to me.”

“How would you know?” You inquired, tilting your head in question. The two of you were almost nose to nose and neither of you were backing down, “You’ve been absent for month.”

He raised an invisible brow, “You’ve been counting?”

You broke the gaze first and looked down, fighting the smile threatened to crack your face. You uncross your arms and fiddle with the lapels on his darks suit jacket, muttering out, “No.”

A ghost of a smirk plays on the pale man’s lips and he leaned closer to you, pressing your bottom against the counter. “No?” He inquired lowly in a teasing tone. You opened your mouth to retort but he lifted you up and sat you on the counter, his hands caressing your legs as he spread them. He took a step forward, placing his head in the crook of your neck and breathed, “I can’t hear you, kitten.”

You lashed fluttered and you looked at the ceiling as Victor’s tongue flicked against your neck. “No…” You sighed out feeling the strap of your dress being pushed aside and rough pecks being trailed down your neck and to your shoulder.

“Don’t lie.” Victor muttered against your skin, hiking your dress up with his hands. “I know when you lie.” You bit your lip and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, only for him to clasp them in his and pin them to the counter, making your chest jut out.

As his hands trailed up your legs and tugged at the waistband of your panties you squeaked out a, “Wait!” and he followed your command, pulling away from your shoulder with a hairless, raised brow. “Someone’ll see.” You finished, staring into his eyes and biting your bottom lip.

Victor set his jaw and glared into your eyes, making you jump when he roughly pulled your panties down your legs. Contrastingly, he then gripped your chin in his hand and pressed his lips to yours; your first ‘real’ kiss with the mercenary. Your eyes fluttered closed and you sighed as his thumb parted your lips and his tongue slipped into your mouth. He pulled away with a suckle on your lip and you opened your eyes, your lips now red from the pressure and your chest heaving.

You were about to began to beg when there was a knock at the kitchen door. Your eyes widened and you jumped off the countertop, fixing the straps of your dress. Victor calmly placed your panties in his pants pocket and gave you one last glance, “Stop drinking.” He ordered, walking out the room.

Staff started to spill into the kitchen once more and you were left standing in the middle of the large room. After a moment you wiped your mouth and smoothed out your dress, leaving the now crowded space.

As soon as you were in the foyer again, you heard someone call for you, “Bunny!” Your head whipped around and you managed to smile when you saw the blonde head of Greta coming your way in a red dress with a flute in her hand. “Top notch shindig, huh?”

You genuinely laugh and nod, letting her wrap her arms around you. “My compliments to the planner.” Greta winked at you as she pulled away.

“Nope,” You shake your head, “This was not me. I didn’t even know what brunch food was until this morning.”

“You’re so cute, bunny.” Greta cooed, pinching at your side as she took a sip of her champagne. “How’s penguin?”

Your breath caught in your throat but you just smiled, “He’s fine.”

“Uh oh,” The blonde exclaimed with a hearty grin, “Trouble in paradise?” You rolled your eyes and opened your mouth to retort but Greta interrupted you, “Bunny you’re way too cute to be with someone that...dull.”

“Gee, it’s way more complicated than you think.” You start, running a hand through your hair, “I need the money and he’s really nice.”

“Nice?” She scoffed, rolling her eyes, “Say that to Gerri or anyone else he’s killed.” She looked around and lowered her voice, “Bunny it’s one thing to go to his lounge or these parties, but it’s a whole different ordeal when you work for a man like that. If you did one thing wrong he’d kill you and I don’t want to lose my best friend. After what happened to Brandon I would think you would be a little more careful.”

You whipped your head around and your eyes widened, “What do you mean?”

“Oh bunny,” The blonde sighed, frowning, “You saw your boyfriend killed in front of you. Shit like that happens when you mess around with the dark side of Gotham and we all know Brandon wasn’t really working ‘security’.”

You thickly swallowed as tears began to well up in your eyes. “Why would you say something like that to me?” Greta opened her mouth but you shook your head, “You know what nevermind, I’ll see you around, Gee.” You walked away from the blonde and grabbed two glasses of champagne from a waiter’s tray, downing both of them in two gulps.

In the next hour, you had drank about five flutes of champagne and downed a number of shots. You had wandered around the manor until you had found a private room upstairs with a balcony and you were now seated, barefoot with a bottle in your hand, on the railing of the balcony; melancholy and drunk.

You were filled to the brim with dread and alcohol, but mostly dread. Brandon was dead. Cobblepot had ordered his death. You were fucking Victor. How did your life go from normal to comic book in six months?

You took another swig of the bottle in your hand and stared out into the blue sky. It was a beautiful day, not too hot or too cold. But you were not feeling too beautiful at the moment.

“Kitten…” The voice that plagued your sweetest dreams and darkest nightmares sounded from behind you soothingly, “What did I say?”

You didn’t reply to the mercenary behind you, instead just continuing to stare forward as you heard the footsteps of his patent leather shoes click against the balcony floor. The footsteps stopped right behind you and you heard him sigh, reaching and taking the bottle from your hand. “He’s looking for you.”

You didn’t miss a beat with your answer, “I don’t care.”

“You should.” Victor murmured and you shook your head, turning to look at him over your shoulder.

“Why do you keep doing this to me?” You barked, your eyes beginning to glisten with tears.

Victor shook his head, trying to move you from the ledge of the balcony. “You’re drunk.” He dismissed, his hands on your arms.

“You killed my boyfriend and now you’re fucking me behind your boss’ back. What does that make you, huh? I hate you; I hate what you made me into.” You babbled spitefully as he lifted you and threw you over his shoulder. You beat your fist against his back to no avail, as he kept carrying you to a destination unknown.

You were dumped on a bathroom counter and the door was locked behind you. You glared at the pale man before you as he grabbed a glass from the medicine cabinet and filled it water from the faucet. He thrusted the glass in your face, “Drink this.”

“Fuck you.” You spat, mistaking the fire in your belly with rage instead of alcohol.

Victor clenched his jaw and sat the glass down on the counter, standing in front of you. “Kitten,” He warned through clenched teeth, “Drink the fucking water.”

“No.” You stubbornly repeated, knocking the glass of the counter and watching it shatter as it fell to the ground. “I don’t want any fucking water I want my boyfriend!”

“Well he’s dead.” Victor replied bluntly, returning your glare with the same intensity. “I killed him, is that what you want to hear? I put a bullet through your beloved boyfriend’s head while you were sleeping right next to him and watched his blood splatter all over your pretty, supple skin.”

You choked back a sob and grimaced, hitting his chest with your fists, “Bastard!”

“This is what you want to hear, right?” He inquired with a scathing tone, “How I watched your house for weeks before I made my move? How funny I found it that when you called out for him that night it was actually me in the room with you? How fucking arousing I found it when you gagged as my hand was wrapped around your throat?”

“Shut up!” You whimpered, trying to press your hands against your ears, only for Victor to grab them and force them to your sides.

“No you want to hear this because I’m so bad, right? I’m the villain but yet you call out to me in your sleep.” Victor continued, leaning into your face, “Well tell me this kitten, if I’m so terrible, why do you want me?”

You pout childishly and shake your head, “I don’t.”

“You do.” The pale man insisted, “You’re just too afraid to admit it. But kitten guess what?” You looked up and waited for him to finish. He grinned manically and his grip on your wrists tightened, “I thrive off fear.” He muttered lowly.

The two of you stared at each other for a moment until you blinked, causing a tear to run down your cheek. Your tongue darted out to wet your lip before you made the very hasty decision to press your lips against his as hard as you could. Victor responded immediately and let your wrists go, taking your lip in between his teeth. You braced yourself with a hand on his shoulder and the other gripping the back of his head, while both of his hands were on your thighs.

Your lower half was already bare from earlier and you felt every clothed inch of him brush against you as he pressed himself closer to you. The straps of your dress were pushed down and Victor pulled away from your lips to yank your top down and take one of your nipples in his mouth, running his teeth over the bud.

You moaned aloud and spread your legs wider, moving your hands down to his belt and tugging. A hand went under your dress and brushed against your clit before two fingers slid into you. You bit your lip and pushed Victor’s suit jacket from his shoulders, the meticulously ironed article falling into a heap on the floor. One by one you unbuttoned his shirt, pausing only when he pressed his lips against yours to swallow your moans as he curled his fingers in you.

Your toes curled and you choked out a moan into his mouth, undoing his belt finally and slipping your hand into his boxers where his pubic hair was trimmed and his cock was large. You got a good feel of him and heard him grunt, smirking into his mouth. You pulled him out of his boxers and stared into his eyes as you licked your hand, stroking him in twisting motions as his fingers thrusted in and out of you.

Victor leaned his forehead against yours as the two of you got each other off, your breaths mingling with each other. When you began to twitch and tighten around his fingers he pulled them out of you, making you stop jerking him off. He yanked you to the edge of of the marble counter and spread your legs, thrusting into you in a quick motion.

You opened your mouth in a silent gasp and wrapped your arms and legs around the pale man. He began to move and buried his head into your neck, nuzzling into it before placing open-mouthed kisses against your hot skin.

“Victor.” You moaned through clenched teeth before biting your lip. He was going unbearably slow and you tried to move your hips to speed up the process, only for him to dig his digits into the skin of your thighs to hold you in place.

Pulling all the way out, Victor sharply thrusted into you, making you jump and bite your lip. He repeated the action over and over and it made your toes curl. With the next thrust, he dug his teeth into the smooth skin of your shoulder and you jolted, clamping around him like a vice. He grunted and you groaned, biting into your lip so hard that it started to bleed.

With every deep thrust, your button was being pushed until finally you began to still. “Victor, please.” You begged, like you begged the first night the two of you had ever met. You were still begging for a release but this one was very different from that first one. “Please.” You mewled again, feeling your head being pulled back by his hand in your hair.

Victor pressed his lips against yours and sucked the blood from your bottom lip, speeding up his thrusts but not taking any depth away from them. As you felt yourself beginning to cum your teeth clamped down on his tongue, spasming at the overwhelming amount of pleasure you were being given. You threw your head back and let out a carnal groan, squeezing your eyes closed.

As your nails dug into his back once more, you felt him speed up and his abdomen tense, his hold on you even tighter until he began to spill into you. The sound of wet skin slapping against skin echoed throughout the bathroom as the two of you came together, the tension in the embrace making the fucking that much more enjoyable.

The two of you stilled and you breathed heavily against Victor, your forehead against his chest. You swallowed thickly and licked your lips, leaning back and looking up at him with a smirk, “I think I want that water now.”

Chapter Text

It was the end of a long shift and you were turning the lights in the lounge off. You were the last one left in the club because you had to do the books, which you dreaded because of how long it took.

Your feet ached, your head was pounding and your eyes were threatening to close on you. You shrugged your purse onto your shoulder and locked the doors behind you. As soon as you took a step outside, thunder boomed and large drops of rain started to fall.

You huffed at your luck and held your purse over your head for some kind of coverage and made your way down the street. With every wet step, your body got colder. Lighting was cutting through the sky and loud thunder shook you to the core. When your purse was not doing it’s job any longer, you put it down and surrendered to the rain, letting it drench you.

When you were halfway home, a black luxury car with tinted windows pulled up next to you slowly. Your eyes widened and you began to walk faster; this was Gotham after all and it was two in the morning. You kept your gaze forward, even after the window of the car rolled down.

“Need a ride?”

You froze at the voice and turned around, peeking into the window of the car. Victor gave you a lazy smirk and the sound of the door unlocking brought you out of your shock. You glanced around the wet streets before opening the door and getting in the car.

The car started to move and it was silent, the only sound echoing through the car was your sniffling. You froze up once more when Victor reach a hand over you and opened the glove compartment. You caught sight of a pistol but the pale hand just took out a black handkerchief and closed the compartment, handing the cloth to you.

You silently took the handkerchief and dried your face, grimacing at the makeup that was now on the cloth. You flipped the sun visor in front of you down and looked at your face, grimacing once again. You flipped the mirror back up and slumped against the seat. You don’t know why you cared so much; Victor had seen you in your ratty pajamas, being soaken wet isn’t as bad as that.

You had not seen Victor since the two of you fucked in your boss’ bathroom, though you dreamt of him nearly every night; now you had something to compare the dream to. Sometimes, during the day, you would catch yourself drifting off, remembering the feeling of his skin on yours and him inside you. Sometimes you would even moan aloud, before remembering where you were.

Your attention was turned to the window and you watched a soaken Gotham pass by. When your apartment building came and went, you turned to Victor with furrowed brows. He didn’t answer your silent question, only continued to stare forward and steer the car lazily, though you were sure he was going well over the speed limit. No cop in their right mind would pullover Victor Zsasz.

He drove for a few more long moments, you could keep track of the time, and before you knew it he was pulling into a suburban neighborhood a little outside the city. The houses looked expensive, way more expensive than you could afford, and they were beautiful. The pale man pulled into the driveway of a modern, almost glass-like house. From the outside, it looked like it had one two levels, but a lone window in the foundation of the home alluded to a basement.

Victor shut the car off and got out of it, pocketing his keys. He held an umbrella above his head and walked to the other side of the car, opening your door. You looked up at him in surprise and got out of the car. He closed the door behind you and held the umbrella completely over your head, allowing himself to be drenched by the rain. With a hand on the small of your back, he led you to the front door of the home, not bothering to lock his car doors. You stood to the side of him and held the umbrella as he unlocked his front door, and he gestured for you to go in before him. You did as you were told and awkwardly stood in the foyer as he closed the umbrella and the door, taking the time to look around the home.

It had an open layout, from the front door you could see the kitchen, dining room and the sunken in living area. Because of this, the first floor of the home looked more like an apartment than a house. The obvious theme of the home was white, a blinding, pure white and the darkest black. Between the two colors were plays on gray, though they were few and far between. All of the appliances were either silver or black and the countertops in the kitchen were made of white marble. The floors were carpeted in white, though not a stain was to be seen. The dining room table was made of glass and the chairs were white wood outlined in silver. On the far left wall, there was a large television and on each side of the screen the wall was sunken in and books lined the makeshift shelves. Surrounding the sunken in living room was a white leather couch with black pillows, all of them straight and fluffed. On the furthest wall, slightly behind the kitchen were metal steps and behind the metal steps was a hallway, but you were much to scared to wander anywhere in the home. So instead, you stood in the foyer, soaken wet and shaking like a leaf.

You heard Victor chuckle behind you as he walked by. “Make yourself at home.” He requested, disappearing up the metal stairs.

You swallowed thickly and shrugged off your coat, hanging it on the coat rack by the door. You nudged your shoes off, in fear of trekking dirt on the flawless carpet, and walked to the bookshelves in the wall, peering at the titles. Just as you suspected, a lot of the novels were first editions. When you were done gaping at his book collection, you looked at some of the art on the wall, most of the paintings were black and white; you saw no pictures of a family.

“Kitten!” You jumped as Victor’s voice bounced off the walls of the empty home. “Come here.”

You obeyed as you always did, walking up the steps before standing in the hallway of the upstairs that mirrored the first level; white carpet and white walls. “Victor?” You called out, afraid of opening any of the doors; there were three in total.

“In here.”

You followed the voice into the room farthest down the hallway and walked into a large bedroom that was obviously the master. The walls were a dark gray, but the most noticeable element in the room was the large california king in the middle of it. The bed had a black spread, black sheets and was on a large white, wooden bedpost that connected in the air and made a perfect square above it. On the opposite wall of the bed, there was a double door, presumably leading a walk-in closet. On the wall left to the bed, there was a black dresser with a large mirror and next to the dresser was another blinding white room, from what you could see it was a bathroom.

The sound of a door opening made you turn your head and you were faced with a jacketless Victor. He held a tailored shirt out to you, “You should change.”

You looked down at the shirt then up at Victor, blinking. You accepted the shirt and stared at him pointedly. He rolled his eyes with a smirk and left the room. You didn’t start stripping until you heard his footsteps going down the steps. You quickly took off your wet work clothes and put on the white button-up, knotting your wet hair at the top of your head. When you were finished, you bundled up your clothes and put them in a laundry basket by the closet doors. You wandered out of the bathroom and down the steps, the carpet feeling plush between your toes.

You found Victor in the kitchen in front of a keurig, and your footsteps echoed on the marble floor of the kitchen. He looked at you over his shoulder and handed you a mug. You took the cup and sniffed it, hopping on his counter like you do when you’re at home.

“It’s tea.” He informed you with an amused expression, leaning on the opposite counter and sipping his own cup.

You crossed your legs at the ankles and lightly swung them, savoring the taste of honey on your tongue. “Your house is very…” You tried, but couldn’t think of a complimentary word, so you settled for, “Clean.”

Victor snickered behind his mug and raised a brow, “As opposed to your pigsty?”

You frowned, “I’m too busy to clean! And you seem to like it seeing as you spend most of your time napping on my couch.”

Instead of arguing with you he studied your face. “Why were you walking in the rain?”

Caught off guard by the question, you looked down at your mug, warming your hands and thighs with it. “I had to stay late so I told Butch to go home.” You shrugged, looking up to find Victor’s dark eyes on you, “It’s my fault really, I should have brought an umbrella.”

“He shouldn’t have let you walk home in the rain.” Victor said, the words hard and threatening, but not to you; you could tell he wasn’t talking about Butch either.

“I’m sure he didn’t mean…” You tried to defend but your words were empty and they seemed to fail you when you looked into Victor’s eyes.

“You could’ve gotten sick.” He muttered, his mug now on the counter, “And you remember the last time you were ‘sick’.” You swallowed thickly and nodded once, raising your mug to your lips to have something to bite into. “It’s much too late to drive you home,” The pale man started, watching you sip your tea, “You’re staying here tonight.”

You nodded once more and played with the long sleeves of your borrowed shirt. “Are all of your suits the same?” You question, meaning to lighten the mood.

“Yes.” Victor answered shortly and seriously, though the glint in his eyes alluded to humor.

“Oh?” You ask, your eyebrows raised, “Do you wear them to bed?”

“No,” He starts, raising his mug to hide his smirk, “I sleep in the nude.”

You raise a hand to your mouth to keep yourself from spitting out your tea as he laughs at you. You roll your eyes at the humor and swallow your tea, before opening your mouth in a yawn. “Where am I sleeping?” You inquire, fighting another yawn from breaking through.

“The guest room.” Victor answers, taking your mug from you and placing it in the sink. “The door across from mine.”

You nod and wipe the sleep from your eye, hoping from the counter. “Good night.” You mutter, passing by him. He nods to you and you bite your lip, “And thank you.” You add, walking away.

You walked up the steps of the house and went to your designated door, finding a room in all white. You closed the door behind you and flopped down on the bed, burying yourself under the mounds of white sheets.

Despite the softness of the sheets and the silence of the room, you couldn’t fall asleep. You sat up in bed and ran a hand through your hair, bringing your knees up to your chest. You stared at the light coming from under the bedroom door and bit your lip as a shadow passed by it, though it was going the opposite way of the bedroom.

Ignoring all of your instincts, you slowly climbed out your bed and tiptoed to the door. You slightly opened the door and peeked out of it, looking both ways; the hallway was empty. You walked out of your room and towards Victor’s were his door was open. You peeked in and saw that his room was also empty. Furrowing your brow, you slowly made your way down the stairs. The living room, kitchen and dining room was empty. Where did the shadow go?

To get an alibi, you poured yourself a glass of water then continued your search through the house. You walked behind the stairs and came to two doors. The first door that you opened was a bathroom. As you were reaching for the knob of the second door the sound of footsteps behind you scared you into hiding in the bathroom.

You closed the door and walked back until your back hit the counter top. You held your breath and clutched the glass in your shaking hand. The footsteps stopped in front of the bathroom door and you put a hand over your mouth to keep yourself from screaming. The door swung open and you jumped, looking up and meeting the amused gaze of Victor Zsasz. He raised an eyebrow in question and you began to sputter.

“I...couldn’t sleep….cold...water.” You held up the glass lamely.

Victor stared at you as if you were a child and nodded slowly, ushering you out the bathroom. He walked behind you up the stairs and through the hallway, nudging for you to continue past the guest room.

Once you were in his bedroom, he led you to the bed. You looked at him incredulously as he nodded toward the mattress. You put your glass of water on the nightstand and slowly, very slowly, got in the bed; your gaze staying on Victor. You pulled the covers up to your chin like a child and flinched when Victor reached over you and tucked the blankets into your sides. “Go to sleep.” He muttered, leaving you there and going into the bathroom. Light flooded into the room, only to disappear when the door closed. The sound of running water started soon after.

You laid there staring at the ceiling for another minute, your mind going over all the different possibilities of what’s behind the door. It just seemed too coincidental that Victor stopped you right when you were about to open it. Knowing Victor, it was probably where he stored the bodies of the people he’s killed.

At the thought your eyes widened and you turned on your side, having freaked yourself out. You looked out into the darkness and asked yourself, for what seemed like the millionth time; What the hell were you doing?

Victor Zsasz was a murderer. He killed your boyfriend. He has a tally of all the people he’s killed across his skin, so why were you in his home? In his bed?

The bathroom door opened and you closed your eyes. The smell of soap wafted around the room and the sound of footsteps falling on the carpet alerted you to Victor’s presence. The sheets were pulled back and the expensive tempurpedic barely dipped as he got into bed.

Movement stilled and you kept your eyes closed, your breathing slow and your body still. You waited for contact, any kind of touching but none transpired. Curious, you popped an eye open, before quickly closing it.

“I saw that.” Victor commented monotonously.

Both of your eyes opened and you looked up, at him, his face illuminated by a lamp on the end table. He was reading a very thick novel and funnily enough, he had black reading glasses on.

“I can’t sleep.” You muttered, turning to lay on your stomach and placing your hands underneath the cool pillow. He didn’t say anything in reply and you rolled your eyes, pressing your cheek against your pillow. You glance up at Victor from your place beside him, taking in his bare chest and the scars littered across his body.

“Which one was your first?” You muttered, without realizing you were speaking until he paused. He put down his book and took off his glasses, looking over to you. He flipped his wrist over and pointed to a diagonal scar across his skin. You sat up in the bed and crossed your legs under you, tenderly holding his wrist in your hands and tracing the scar with your finger. You wet your lips before asking, “Who was it?”

“My father.” He replied in a monotone, staring at the raised skin blankly.

Your gaze flickered to his face and you caressed the back of his hand with your thumb. “I don’t know anything about you, Victor Zsasz.”

“Yet I know everything about you.” The pale man replied, his eyes now staring into yours.

“That would sound sweeter if you didn’t stalk me for all those months.” You said, making his mouth twitch.

“Just doing my job.” Victor murmured, his dark eyes on your face.

“I don’t think watching me sleep was part of your job, Mr. Zsasz.” You retort teasingly, a playful smile on your face.

The pale man quirked a brow up and leaned forward, “You called for me,” He started lowly, placing his hands on your bare legs, “And I’ll always come when you call, kitten.”

You placed your hands on top of his and bit your lip, “Always?”

“Always.” Victor affirmed, staring deeply into your eyes.

You looked away after a moment before a thought popped into your head, “Do you ever dream of me, Mr. Zsasz?”

“Every night.” The mercenary answered unflinchingly, his gaze not moving from your face.

You paused and glanced up at his eyes, surprise evident in yours. You cleared your throat, “I bet you say that to all your missions.” You joked, though your smile dropped when you caught the serious look on his face.

“No, just you.”

Chapter Text

Your eyes snapped open in the middle of night, but you couldn’t remember when you had fallen asleep. You gazed out into the darkness with furrowed brows, feeling soft breathing on your face. You reached a hand out and found Victor’s chest, falling and rising slowly with each breath. Lightly, as softly as you could, your fingers traced his scars.

“Why are you awake, kitten?” His chest rumbled beneath your fingers as he spoke through the darkness.

“I just woke up.” You stated, continuing to try to count his marks. You heard him exhale and he lazily rolled on top of you, bracing himself with his hands.

“Go back to sleep.” Victor muttered, pecking your lips. You responded with a pout and he took your bottom lip in his mouth.

He pulled away just as you began to reciprocate the kiss and you sighed. “I can’t.”

Victor hummed and pressed his lips against your neck, unbuttoning his shirt that donned your body. His hands trailed down your sides and his thumbs brushed over your nipples, his teeth grazing over your skin. He tapped your thighs and you eagerly spread your legs for him, biting your lip.

He slipped a hand between the two of you and felt you through your panties, smirking into your skin. “Did you dream of me again, kitten?”

You nodded with a mewl as your panties were tugged down your legs. Victor’s long fingers slid into you and his thumb brushed against your clit, making you sigh. He scissored his fingers and spread you, as his mouth latched onto your nipple.  

“I think this is waking me up more.” You quipped breathless, listening to his low chuckle. He pulled his fingers out of you and you guessed that he slid them in his mouth because of the low hum that emitted from him. Your guess was proven correct when he pressed his mouth against yours, making you taste yourself on his tongue.

With his mouth still attached to yours, Victor filled you in one quick thrust. You groaned in his mouth and your legs wrapped around his hips, your back arching. He rocked within you for a few moments before pulling out to his head and ramming back into you.

You gasped and removed your mouth from his, throwing your head back. He kissed your jaw, then your ear as he rested his head in the crook of your neck. You chewed on your lip and dug your nails into his back, doing your best to break his skin.

You got the reaction you wanted when he groaned in your neck and angled his hips to thrust upwards into you, hitting a spot within you that made you shudder. “Fuck.” You cried out, a pleasure-filled grimace taking over your face.

The sound of your skin smacking against his echoed through the cool bedroom and so did your breathless moans. “Please Victor.” You begged into his ear, before placing your lips on it. “Please.”

“Kitten…” He drawled, pulling his head out of his neck and placing his dark eyes on you. “What are you begging for, pretty girl?” He questioned lowly, not stopping his hips. You stared into his eyes and breathed heavily through your mouth, slightly shaking your head. He lowered his head and pecked your lips before hovering over you once more, slowing his pace. “If you don’t tell me I can’t give it to you.”

“Please…” You begged once more, tears now lining your vision. The sensation between your legs was so pleasurable it began to hurt. You tried to move a hand down to your clit but Victor grabbed it, pinning it above your head. You tried your other hand but it met the same fate. “Please!” You cried, moving your hips against his.

Victor shook his head and kept his eyes on yours, making you clench your teeth. “Tell me what you want.” He demanded, removing a hand from one of your wrists and licking his fingers before rubbing quick circles on your clit.

“You.” You groaned out, nearly screaming. “Fuck, Victor I just want you.” You saw something flash in his eyes and his brow slightly furrow before your eyes fluttered closed and you came, throwing you head back and shuddering.

When you caught your breath, he let go of your wrists and rolled off of you. You sat up and stared at him curiously, running a hand through your sweat-drenched hair. “Wh-!” You started but was interrupted by the pale man.

“Go to sleep.”

In the haziness of your post orgasmic state, you nodded silently, placing your head on the pillow. You reached for Victor but shrugged off your hand, making you shrink back. You stared at his back for another moment before turning your back on him and closing your eyes, ignoring the knife in your belly.

When you woke up again it was late in the afternoon and Victor was gone. You glanced at the empty spot beside you and bit your lip, recounting the events of the early morning. You got up from the bed and padded to the bathroom of the suite, glancing at yourself in the mirror. You were bruised, your hair was matted, and your eyes were watery.

You turned on the shower and stripped yourself of the designer shirt that still donned your body. You grabbed a towel and cloth from the metal shelf above the sink and then stood under the water, washing away your sins.

When your skin was clean and your tears cried, you turned the water off and wrapped a towel around yourself. You walked out of the bathroom and looked around the room for your clothes, though you didn’t find them. You chewed on your lip and redressed yourself in the white dress shirt, before padding out of the room.

You walked down the steps of the home and into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator. Everything was so neat, abnormally so, but that was Victor. Afraid of making a mess, you just grabbed an apple from the fruit tray.

You sat on the counter and just as you took a bite of the apple, the front door to the house opened. You looked over your shoulder and met blank black eyes.

The owner of the house and your heart closed the door and raised a brow that wasn’t there, “You're still here.”

You swallowed your bite of apple, not saying anything as he walked around you to get to the fridge. He was dressed in jogging gear, a pair of black shorts and a tight black shirt, though he barely had sweat on him. He grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and took a long sip, his eyes on you as he tipped his head back.

“What is that supposed to mean?” You muttered, fiddling with the bottom of your button up.

“I thought you would be gone by now.” Victor responded evenly, leaning against the counter and staring at you with those dark eyes of his.

“It’s not like I have a car.” You said, gripping the counter. “If you wanted me to leave you could have just said so.”

Victor raised an invisible brow, “So.”

You blinked, “What?” You blubbered, offended.

“Leave.”

“I’m sorry,” You started, letting out an incredulous laugh, “I was under the impression you wanted me here; given that you were the one who brought me to your house.”

“It was raining.” Victor said simply, shrugging his shoulders, “Now it is not.”

You hopped off the counter, furrowing your brows and crossing your arms. “I’m sorry,” You repeated, standing directly in front of Victor, “Did I do something wrong? Are you angry at me for something?”

“Why would you think that?” The bald man questioned, his face not giving anything away.

You narrow your eyes, “Well last night it seemed everything was fine but this morning you…” You stopped yourself, your gaze going to your feet, “You seemed different. You’re acting a little strange.”

“How would you know how I normally act?” Victor retorted, finishing his water bottle, “All of what you know could be an act.”

“Why are you being so hostile?” You nearly exclaimed, but you kept your volume at room level.

Victor chuckled lowly, shaking his head, “I don’t know what you mean.”

You exhale, exasperate by his nonchalant attitude, “You’re being so…” You started before biting your lip, “So cold.”

“Was I warm before?”

“No.” You hurriedly answered, “But you were never this… Are you even listening to what I’m saying?”

Victor scoffed, turning his back on you as he left the kitchen, “You’re talking in circles.”

You frowned and followed him up the stairs, running a hand through your hair. “I’m not, er, I’m not trying to anyway.”

“Well you are.” Victor’s voice was to emotionless to be a snap, but it did have an undertone of bitterness to it. It made you freeze in the doorway of his room.

“You,” He started, as he stripped himself of his shirt, “Are getting very attached to me, kitten.”

“Well, yeah.” You admit, stepping into the room. “You’re the only one that understands the position that-!”

“No.” Victor interjected, turning to you with narrowed eyes, “You are counting on me to save you, to have feelings for you. But you’ve got the wrong guy, kid.”

“I don’t understand what you mean.” You muttered, shaking your head, “I get that this is just something of convenience.” You rushed to add, “For the both of us.”

Victor looked over your face and smirked, silently padding over to you. His presence made you walk into the wall and he leaned over you. “You’re lying.” He uttered lowly, “I can see it in those pretty eyes.”

“I’m not.” You protested, though the tears welled in your eyes betrayed you. So you broke down, “I mean,” You started, your voice breaking, “You treat me so… tenderly and act as if I’m supposed to ignore it? Ignore the feeling I get when I think of you?”

“You’re messed up, kitten.” Victor muttered, pushing himself off the wall. “I killed your boyfriend, you should hate me; weren’t those your words?”

“Yeah, but-!”

“What?” Victor questioned, “You love me? Is that it?”

“No.” You croaked, tears now running down your face.

“No?” The mercenary echoed mockingly, “She says no so it must be true.”

“Stop.” You demanded weakly, quivering against the wall. He chuckled at the sight of you and you glared, a new fire in your stomach. “You know what I think?”

“I can probably guess.” Victor quipped, a smirk on his face.

“I think you’re scared, Victor.” You accused, crossing your arms. “You’re scared because you actually like me.”

“Do I?”

“Yes!” You answered hurriedly, taking steps toward him, “You think you’re so big and bad because of what you do to people that you’re afraid to be bested by some ‘little girl’.” You stopped in front of the pale man, a smirk on your lips, “But I got your heart in my hand Victor and if I wanted to, I could destroy you.”

“Oh really?” Victor breathed, staring steadily into your eyes. “Are you threatening me, kitten? I don’t like threats.”

“I’m simply stating the truth, Victor.” You spoke evenly, not daring to blink. “And the truth is, you could destroy me, too.”

Victor’s eyes gazed over you, going from your face to your feet, than back up to your eyes. His mouth twitched in but he clenched his jaw, eyes narrowing. “...You can stay.” He finally muttered, turning away from you.

You watched him walk in the bathroom with a smirk, wiping your eyes. “I wasn’t going to leave, anyway.” You said, unbuttoning your shirt as you heard the shower turn on.

Chapter Text

A devilish smile was painted on your lips as you were lifted further up a bookshelf by the pale man between your legs. You moaned lowly and was reprimanded by a hand tangling itself in your hair and pulling. The embrace was forbidden but as per usual, you didn’t care. Teeth scraped against the juncture of your neck and shoulder as your dress was hiked up even more by the force of the thrusts you were receiving. A book fell beside your face and you would have laughed; if you weren’t about to tumble over the cliffs of ecstasy.

“Jesus,” You moaned, “Right there!” Your command was silently followed and your head flung back, hitting the bookshelf as stars began to line your vision. You clawed at his back as you came, a breathless whine leaving your lips.

You were set down on unsteady legs and your dress fell back down to your knees. You wiped your mouth to smooth out your lipstick as Victor zipped up his pants and smoothed his suit. You ran a hand through your hair and grabbed the book you were sent to retrieve, turning to leave. Without a word, Victor grabbed your arm and tilted your head back, pressing his lips against yours. You smiled into the kiss and he let you go, his face blank as always but you could see through it.

You turned again and left the library, walking back the way you came. Your heels clicked against the marble floors of the mansion and it echoed the empty hallways. You came to the doors of the study and knocked twice, before being allowed entry.

The study, like everything in the home, was huge and in the middle of it all was a large oak desk. The theme was a dark purple, very predictable, and the carpet was lush.

“I found the book you wanted, boss.” You said, walking over to Mr. Cobblepot’s desk and handing it to him. He smiled up at you in that certain way he always did and took the book from you.

“Thank you and please,” He urged with a grin, “Call me Oswald.”

Nothing had really changed in the months that you had gotten ‘involved’ with Victor, your boss didn’t suspect a thing, and it seemed that he had gotten even more fond of you. The gifts had become more frequent and expensive; your whole apartment was now furnished with new things and your closet was becoming way too small to hide all your new clothes. You’re sure if you complained, he’d buy you a house. You never had to spend money anymore, even your groceries were taken care of, and traveling was never an issue, as you now had a chauffeur. You didn’t really need a driver, as you spend most of your time at Victor’s, the lounge and the mansion, but the thought of it could be interpreted as sweet. If you didn’t know the reason why.

You had obviously gained his trust and he now shared more with you. You knew the in’s and the out’s of the business now and he was slowly beginning to show you the criminal underbelly of the lounge. He had even let you sit in on some of his meetings; ensuring that you sat right next to him the whole duration of them. His colleagues would treat you with the respect of a first lady, though the reason for that was because the last man who leered at you got one of his eyes cut out by Victor. Mr. Cobblepot ordered the action but you couldn’t help but think that Victor would have done it anyway.

You nodded and turned to leave the study, though he called for you. You turned around, “Stay. Please.” He ordered politely, motioning to a chair in front of his desk. You obeyed, because you always obeyed, and sat in front of him.

Mr. Cobblepot smiled at you and crossed his hands on the desk, “How are things?”

“Wonderful.” You answered truthfully; little did he know why.

“Do you need anything?” He questioned, leaning back in his chair. You shook your head with a smile and he returned it. “Are you sure?”

You nodded, noting with a laugh, “My closet is already so full and I don’t think you can fit any more furniture in my apartment…”

“A bigger place then?” Mr. Cobblepot hurriedly replied, taking out his checkbook, “Maybe a house?”

“No!” You protested, shaking your head, “No, I was just joking, please don’t buy me a house.”

Mr. Cobblepot blinked and put the little book away, chuckling to himself. “I am sorry if I am being bothersome but I just want to make sure you have everything you need.”

You laughed and smiled, almost shocking yourself at how genuine it was, “I know but I’m simple; I really don’t care about that kind of thing.” You rushed to add, “Though I really appreciate the thought.”

“Right…” He trailed with a grin, “We have a meeting today at five and I want you to sit in.”

“Okay.” You nodded, eyes curious, “Do you want me to bring a pad to take notes for you?”

Mr. Cobblepot chuckled and shook his head, “That won’t be needed, thank you. You may go.”

You nodded once more and stood, casting him one last smile as you left. You padded down the hall, finding the way to the kitchen. You walked through the swinging door, greeting the cooks and grabbing a pastry from a tray. You licked the cream off your lip as you took a bite, climbing the stairs of the large house. You took the single stairway all the way to the roof and opened the door, seeing Victor perched in his usual spot. You took off your shoes and placed them by the door, padding towards him barefoot.

He didn’t spare you a glance as you stood beside him, instead focusing on cutting into an apple with his knife. He sliced off a piece and put it in his mouth, looking out into the horizon. “That’s not a good lunch, kitten.” He said, after he swallowed.

You laughed and shrugged, eating your pastry. “Then why does it taste so good?” He didn’t reply and you laughed again, “Do you know what the meeting is about today?”

Victor nodded his head silently and handed you an apple slice. “Something about new enemies moving in on the territory.” His dark eyes were on you as you chewed, “Did he invite you again?” He questioned, his tone monotonous but his eyes narrowed.

You hummed and took another slice from him, licking your lips. “He offered to buy me a house today.” You informed Victor, quietly reveling in how he clenched his jaw. He turned away from you and looked over the horizon once more. You didn’t comment on it, instead ducking under his arm and standing in front of him, pressing your lips against his tense jaw. He exhaled slowly through his nose and you smiled against his skin, being fond of his reaction. You pressed sweet pecks against his neck before placing your chin on his chest and looking up at him.

A hand rose to your face and cupped your cheek and a thumb was brushed against your bottom lip. You opened your mouth out of habit and the thumb slipped between your lips; you eagerly sucked on it, your eyes staring up at Victor. He watched you with those black eyes and yanked his thumb from your mouth, dropping his apple and burying his head in your neck.

You gasped as you felt his teeth dig into your skin, followed by him licking at the wound. “You’re mine.” He rasped, the sound reverberating through your skin, “Not his.”

“I know.” You moaned out as he dropped to his knees and pressed you against the railing, pulling your dress up to get to your cunt. He picked one of your legs up and put it over his shoulder as he buried his face in your center. You were still bare from earlier that morning and when he brushed his tongue against you it was all skin. You bit your lip and placed a hand on his head, forcing him closer to you as he devoured every inch of your cunt.

“Fuck.” You breathed, holding the skirt of your dress up to watch him. By this time you’re shaking and whining and begging for him not to stop. It didn’t help that he wasn’t using any fingers on you, just his mouth and his talented tongue. A sharp slap landed on your ass followed by a rough grasp and you almost screamed through your teeth.

“Victor please.” You pleaded breathlessly, feeling yourself began to cum. “Please.” You cried again before your head lulled back and your eyes fluttered closed. Your whole body erupted in trembles as you tried to keep standing. You weren’t even thinking about the possibility of falling off the roof. As aftershocks went through your body, Victor didn’t let up, instead making you twitch away from him as you got too sensitive.

After a few moments, he finally rose to his feet and you had to hold on him to keep from falling. You pressed your lips against his and your hands went to his belt but he stopped you. “We don’t have time.”

“I don’t care about that meeting, I want you.” You breathed on his lips, your eyes pleading. “Please Victor? Fuck me on this railing, I promise I’ll be quiet.”

Victor did not budge, though you could feel just how much he wanted to on your thigh. “No.” He replied hardly, his eyes unwavering.

You frowned and found your footing, straightening out your dress. You were disappointed, but you knew better than to argue. You turned your back to him to leave the roof, but his hands encased your fists, his mouth right next to your ear from behind. “I’ll make it up to you when we get home, kitten.” He rasped and nibbled on your lobe. Your head lulled back and you moaned, feeling him push his hard cock against your ass. He slightly pushed you forward and you bit your lip, looking at him over your shoulder.

You walked down the stairway and made your way to the dining room where all the meetings were held. Your legs were still a little wobbly, but you could manage. When you entered the room, there was a low murmur going on and Mr. Cobblepot smiled at you from the head of the table.

You returned the smile and padded to your designated seat, sitting down next to your boss. A little while later, Victor stepped into the room and stood in his usual spot next to Butch. He didn’t spare you a glance, but you couldn’t help but sneak a peek at him.

The meeting started and it was the regular business; owed debts, lounge profits, and criminal activity of the like. You watched Mr. Cobblepot place judgment on debtors and make speeches with your usual active listening face, nodding and smiling whenever he met your eyes. You were a great actress.

Whenever a person was to be killed, Mr. Cobblepot would make Victor take them outside, though you knew that was only because you were there. A total of three people died that night and you knew that you would be kissing new cuts on Victor’s skin.

You thought everything was finished when Mr. Cobblepot began another spiel, “I am the king of Gotham.” He boasted, “There is no other game in town! I have finally realized my dream and have even surpassed what I thought was possible.” The people in the room cheered and he smiled, waving his hands, “Alright, alright. But a king without a queen is not much of a king at all.”

You blinked and swallowed, hearing your heartbeat in your ears as he continued, “There has been someone with me for months now, giving my lounge the womanly touch it needed. She has been more trustworthy and loyal than any of my other workers. And though tragedy brought her to me, I think it was a blessing in disguise.” He turned to you, a book now in his hands and a smile on his face, “I wanted to do this in front of all of you so that you would know where she stands.” He grinned at you and handed you the book. “A gift from me to you, my dear.”

You swallowed and traced the lettering of the book, ‘The Great Gatsby’. It was obviously a first edition, worth millions. You looked up at him and he gestured for you to open it and you did, slowly. A little square was cut into the pages and in the little fold there was a ring with a large diamond center. It was the biggest diamond you had ever seen.

Your eyes widened and you put a hand over your mouth, hearing gasps around the room as you held the ring up. “Oh my God…” You muttered, your hands starting to shake. “Oh my God…”

“I’m not asking you to marry me, dear.” Mr. Cobblepot told you with a laugh at your face. “But I am asking you to be my queen.”

Your mouth was dry, though your eyes became wet. What choice did you have? If you said no he might kill you, but if you said yes… You didn’t dare look away from Mr. Cobblepot; though you wanted nothing than to look to Victor for an answer.

Mr. Cobblepot’s smile started to falter and without thinking you supplied a bright smile and nodded, chiming out a, “Yes.”

“Yes?” He echoed your answer in surprise.

“Yes.” You affirmed, louder this time. The room applauded and he gently took the ring from you, slipping it on your finger and pressing his lips to your cheek. The action was very gentle and sweet, and the show you were putting on should have won you an oscar. As the room congratulated the two of you, you glanced around for the one person who mattered but he was nowhere to be found.

Chapter Text

Classical music wafted through the hall as jovial guests dressed in proper gala attire mingled with the criminals of the underbelly of Gotham.

A twinkling fountain was in the middle of the celebration, though champagne rained from the spout instead of water. Tiny hors d'oeuvres surrounded a stand around the fountain and right next to it, a miniature chocolate version was surrounded by desserts.

The diamond chandelier casted a pretty glow on the partygoers and sparkled in the dim light, almost taking the place of the moon. Servers hurried around to be seen and not heard, cleaning as they made their way across the room.

The party was reminiscent of a wedding, what with all the talk of a ring.

Standing in the center of it all was one half of the guests of honor; you.

Ah, you were a sight. A sleek black dress with a neckline that sat just below your collarbone and a slit up the side. Little diamond teardrops hung from your lobes and a matching necklace hung from your neck. Your hair was swooped up and away. You looked beautiful but all anyone ever talked about was your hand. And that stupid rock on it.

Another fake smile, another admirer, another fake laugh, another sigh.

You were sad, to say the least, because the one person you wanted to see wasn’t there. The one person you wanted to see hadn’t been seen for a month.

You did everything you could to contact him; you called, you texted, you left notes under your door. But he didn’t answer.

It was like you fiend for him, at night you’d curl in a ball and cry yourself to sleep. His absence made you drink, as if you needed another reason to get drunk these days.

Even so, throughout the thing that infuriated you most is that you couldn’t hate Oswald for what he had done. With all the evil he had done, he had been nothing but kind to you, even trying to cheer you up with little trinkets. Despite all of this, he hadn’t tried anything inappropriate with you, not even so much as a hug. He was almost too sweet and it made you uneasy.

“My beautiful daughter!” Gertrud’s accented voice rang as she barreled through the people trying to get in your good graces. She hooked your arm in hers and led you away to the fountain. “These leeches, I figured you needed some, ah, fresh air!”

“Thank you, Gertrud.” You smiled appreciatively, taking a flute and filling it up.

“How many times must I tell you,” The old woman pouted, “Call me ‘mother’, you’ll be my child soon enough, dottie!”

Gertrud had basically run away with the idea of you marrying Oswald and had even begun calling you ‘daughter’ and ‘dottie’. She wanted so badly for you to be hers and it made you feel nice that she liked you so much.

You opened your mouth to reply but was interrupted by the aforementioned host of the party.

“Oh I’ll leave you two to talk.” Gertrud smiled suggestively, running off somewhere.

“Can these people get anymore desperate?” Oswald murmured halfheartedly, taking a sip of champagne.

“They keep asking me for favors.” You muttered back, the both of you rolling your eyes. “Or to see ‘the ring’.” You mock them, making him chuckle.

He was dressed finely today, only a little more than his usual attire and he had his cane, which he never actually used around the house. He only brought it out when people were around and you weren’t people. You asked him about it once and he blushed and sputtered.

“We should just put it on display and watched a movie.” You continued to joke, nudging him. You shared a laugh and a photographer came up to you, snapping a picture.

“Can I get another of the happy couple?”

As if the presence of another person flicked a switch for the two of you, your smiles dropped and you stepped closer together, his hand on your waist and yours on his chest.

“Perfect.” The picture was taken and you dropped your hand, though his stayed.

You didn’t comment on it, only sighed as your eyes scanned the room for a long moment. Your eyes returned to your partner and you shivered at the sight of his pretty eyes.

“Are you tired?”

“A little.” You admitted, the mere thought making you yawn.

The bird chuckled and looked around, “Maybe we could sneak out a little-!” Before he could finish his thought gunshots rang through the hall. Screams erupted from every direction and you were one of them. Oswald pushed you behind him and snarled out Butch’s name as you clung to him terrified.

Men clad in black ski masks were mowed down one by one, but not before a bullet whizzed past your ear. You dropped immediately, fearing that the bullet had somehow hit you and Oswald caught you.

You breathed heavily and mascara ran down your face and terrified tears left your eyes. You wrapped your arms around your boss tightly and cried, not even noticing that the shooting had ceased. Voices were muted around you and all you could see was the purple velvet of his suit.

“I’ll take her upstairs.” An old voice sounded from next to you.

Victor.

“No. I’ve got her. You stay down here and clean up this mess.” The Penguin snapped, his arms around you protectively. His tone changed drastically when he addressed you, “Come on, dear.”

After a difficult trek up the stairs, you were in Mr. Cobblepot’s room. For the first time. Today seemed to be one for firsts as it was the first time you had gotten shot at, too.

You wiped your face with the handkerchief he gave you and waited patiently for him to return, as he had gone to retrieve something.

Sniffling like a scolded child, you let your gaze go around the room, taking in the little trinkets and dark corners. You jumped when the door creaked open again, only to relax.

“I brought you some tea.” The bird-like man limped over to you, his cane forgotten in the fuss. He places the tray on the bedside table and handed you a cup. “It’s chamomile, it will calm your nerves.”

“Thank you.” You whispered softly, bring it to your lips. It was quiet for a moment before he began to speak.

“I am so sorry I put you in this position.” Oswald frowned, his green eyes dark, “I would never intentionally put your life at risk and I apologize. I will get all my men to search under every rock, sewer and crate for the bastards that did this.”

“Oswald.” You snapped uncharacteristically, “I really don’t want to think about murder right now, as I was almost killed.” You were nearly shouting but you didn’t back down, your eyes glaring into his.

You waited for the repercussion but none came, only a bowed head and a soft reply, “My apologies.”

“No…” You murmured, biting your lip, “I’m sorry. I’m just shaken.”

Oswald nodded and dared a move closer to you, dropping to his knees. He slowly wrapped his arms around you. “It won’t happen again.” He whispered the promise into your neck as you returned the embrace.

You didn’t believe him, but it was sweet of him to pretend.

You sat there for a minute and listened to the sounds of the room. The creaking of the walls, the voices downstairs and most of all the heartbeat of the man in front of you.

His breath came out in light puffs on your skin and you were reminded that this was the longest you had ever touched. Or even been alone.

All at once you felt soft lips press against the skin of your neck softly, cautiously.

“Os-!” You started to speak but was interrupted by him pulling away. Your eyes met his stormy greens and you furrowed your brows. He had never looked at you like that before, not that you had noticed anyway.

“Os-!” You tried again but he dipped his head down to peck the corner of your mouth. “What are you-?” A knock sounded at the door stopping the exchange. Oswald huffed and stood, limping over to it.

“They need to speak with you downstairs.”

“I’m-!”

“It’s urgent, boss.”

“Fine, stay with here until I get back.”

You don’t turn to look as you hear the door close. Instead, you stand, pouring yourself another cup of tea.

“A month.” You muttered around your cup, taking a sip afterwards. “31 days that you’ve been gone. Do you even have an excuse because I’d love to hear one.”

Silence was your reply.

“Victor.” You spoke his name like a prayer, even after all this time, “Why?”

“Nice ring.”

You winced and shook your head, “That’s not fair…” You muttered, facing him. His eyes were hard onyx gems glaring at you with such contempt it hurt. “What was I supposed to do?” You questioned desperately, taking a step towards him. “You told me to play along…”

“Are you saying this is my fault?” Victor replied evenly, his face blank.

“I was just doing what you told me to.” You argued, closing the distance between the two of you. “I didn’t ask for any of this. I didn’t want any of this, I just wanted-!” You stopped yourself, biting your lip to it from spilling your secrets. You stepped closer just to feel what it used to be like and was instantly warmed. You searched his eyes for something, anything, but they were always too dark to read.

“I called your name and you wouldn’t come.” You breathed, your eyes starting to water, “You told me you’d always come when I called.” You wiped your eyes before the tears could fall. “You lied-!”

“Well isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black.” Victor accused, getting dangerously close to you. “Seems a little ironic there.” He spat and you blanched.

“Don’t.” You snapped, not backing down. “I have never lied to you.”

Victor chuckled humorlessly, his eyes glaring down at you. “You have always lied to yourself. Believing that this was more than what it was.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach and you shook your head, refusing to listen. “You're saying this to hurt me but I know you don’t mean it.” You managed to smile, reaching up to cup his cheek.

He grabbed your wrist roughly, the leather rubbing against your skin and  sneered at you. “You were easy.” You closed your eyes tightly, feeling the sting of his words. “Just a game to make work more interesting.”

“You said,” You stammered, “You said-!”

“I lied.” Victor hissed, throwing your wrist down.

You fell to the floor in a heap, your dress pooling around you. You stared wide eyed at the floor as tears fell down your face. You heard footsteps began to walk away from you and as lowly as you possibly could, you whispered as you closed your eyes, “I love you.”

You heard nothing, not even the commotion downstairs. Your own loud heartbeat was muted to your ears as you awaited his response. You hadn’t meant to blurt it out but you were desperate. He had made you desperate.

“You said I was yours. You said I belonged to you.” You swallowed nervously, fisting the fabric of your dress. “And I do. Every part of me belongs to you… I can’t go to sleep without thinking about you and when I wake up you’re on my mind. You’re the only way I dealt with this life and… I don’t think I’ve ever loved anyone as much as I love you.”

“What do you want me to say?” You heard the mercenary question lowly, not getting a read on where he was in the room.

“I don’t know.” You breathed, sniffling. You kept your eyes closed in fear, not knowing what to expect. “I don’t want anything from you I just… I want you. I just need you.”

The sound of laughing made you snap your eyes open and look up. Victor was standing over you chuckling loudly. You furrowed your brows and wrapped your arms around yourself. “You’ve gotten yourself into quite a mess.” He bent down to your level. “You must be desperate, throwing the word ‘love’ around so carelessly.”

“You don’t believe me.” You whispered, broken-hearted.

Victor didn’t reply, only tilting his head while his dark eyes rested on you. You returned his gaze with a watery one of your own, resisting the urge to touch his porcelain skin. In that moment you were reminded of the the first time you met Victor and he had you cornered with his hand at your throat.

As if he was thinking the same thing, he wrapped his fingers around your neck and pushed you against the bedpost, looming dangerously over you.

“Oh Victor,” You breathed, eyes watering again, “Where did we go wrong?”

“From the moment I laid eyes on you.” The mercenary replied quickly, brushing his thumb against your neck.

You laughed, unsure of what else you could do and bit your lip as you searched his eyes. “You don’t have to believe me,” You started lowly, before smiling, “But I do.”

Victor glared at you for a long moment before removing his hand from your neck and standing up. “I know.” He muttered with his back towards you, barely audible.

It was so quiet, you thought you imagined it. You sat there staring at your lap and trying to regain your strength when a bare hand appeared in your vision. You sniffed and rested your hand in his, feeling his bare skin against yours for the first time in a month. He raised you up on your feet and wiped your eyes, shushing you like a child.

“Shut up.” The mercenary cooed with a slight bite to his voice. “Stop crying, kitten.” Your eyes snapped to his at the pet name and you obeyed, biting into your quivering lip.

You were dangerously close to him and you could feel his warmth pulling you in. That same temptation that got you into this meas was working against you again as he placed his hand on the back of your neck, lightly brushing along your nape.

“I can’t love you.” The words made you tense, but the feeling of his fingers dancing down your back was distracting. He rested his hand at the dip of your back and used the other one to grope at your bottom. You swallowed thickly and fluttered your lashes, trying to keep an even head. Drawing you in, his lips barely brushed against yours as he whispered, “But I can guarantee you something else.”

“What?” You found yourself whispering and just as he was about to answer, he stepped away from you. You caught on quickly and turned away also, walking towards your tea as the door opened and Oswald appeared, hurrying over to you. You feigned fear and he wrapped his arms around you, whispering comforting words.

“Do you feel any better?” The bird questioned worriedly, looking you over.

You shook your head in response, looking down at the floor. “I just don’t feel safe.” You whispered, wrapping your arms around yourself.

Oswald stared at you for a moment, his frown deep before his eyes seem to light up. He looked back at Victor and then back to you with a nod. “You’ll just have to stay here then.”

You blinked and furrowed your brows, not understanding what he meant. “What?”

“In your own room of course!” Oswald hurried to add, “Then you’ll be safe. And I’ll have Victor by your side every moment as a, sort of, bodyguard.” The bird explained. He grabbed your hands and looked into your eyes, “Please let me do this for you. I feel terrible about what happened tonight. I would just feel better if you were closer.”

Again, you blinked and weighed the pros and cons quickly in your head. This could be the end of you, but this could also be the beginning of something else. The man you loved was watching your every move and would be protecting you but you’d be under the roof of your boss. You stood for a moment and before you could stop yourself you nodded.

“Yes?” Oswald questioned, a smile growing on his face.

You nodded again, “I’d feel alot safer if I was here.”

“Wonderful! We’ll get you all moved in tomorrow and I’ll…”

You tuned him out after a while and watched as he excitedly began making plans. He pulled you into an embrace and you returned it, using the chance to glance over to Victor. With all the subtlety in the world, you barely caught it, but he nodded once. You smiled for a moment before returning to downtrodden as Oswald pulled away from you.

You were playing a dangerous game and you loved it.