#hahaha creepy assassin boss

[howl-fantasies]

Hi!!

Okey so... After reading that story ab Oswald being kinda nice to reader I realised I needed more >.< and thought how funny it would be if Victor walked into a room to see Ozzy and Reader bonding, and Zsasz is like (:l ugh unexpected(?

Idk e.e Would love to see what your beautiful mind can do with this uwu *tips fedora*

A/N - Hahaha! I really like the idea of the two bonding and basically everyone thinking it absolutely weird and creepy 😂

Here you go dear, I hope you'll like it and not fret too much with those two being friendly with each other 🥰

Warning: English mistakes, it's not my first language but I'm working on it. And that's it I think... Maybe a little bit of blood at the beginning, it's Gotham after all...

--

The noise of the bullet hitting the last skull just echoed in Oswald's meeting room, inside of his manoir. At his feet, was now laying the fifth corpse of the morning, their blood slowly staining one of his expensives carpets.

Not like he minded at this very moment. The new king of Gotham was more focused on the fact that five unknown men managed to crack his security system and successfully passed in front of his goons, who were supposed to guard his HQ, while he was outside with Y/N and Victor to put some iron sense into the thick heads of some stupid thugs operating without Penguin's license. While Victor stayed in town to kill the last dissidents, Cobblepot and Y/N came back to his mansion.

"Unbelievable." He scoffed, pushing with one of his shiny shoes the shoulder of the corpse to turn it around. "How did those imbeciles missed five freaking men barging in their boss' house?!" He now yelled, his face turning red as he shook with anger.

He saw the tall woman accompanying him slowly crouch to take a closer look at the dead man. She was tilting her head slowly from left to right like she always used to do when she was in deep thoughts, reminding Cobblepot of a hawk.

"Well?" He screeched.

The brunette ignored him, making his nostrils flare. But he knew better than yelling like a mad man when he saw one of her hands grabbing the corpse's left arm and pulling his shirt to expose his shoulder to reveal a tattoo.

"What is it?" He muttered as he leaned a bit to see the thing better.

Y/N let the arm fall on the floor in a loud "thud" and turned her head a bit to be able to see Oswald better. "I know you're more into birds, but I thought you'd be able to recognize a snake, Oswald dear", she mocked a bit with a huge grin, only earning a 'tsk' and an eyes roll.

"You perfectly know what I meant you tart. Have you ever seen this?" He grumbled.

She lifted up swiftly and lazily stretched. "Hmhm I did." She started to answer, now brushing some invisible dust on her expensive black jacket. "This ugly thing is the logo of one of Carmine's ex-rival gang, the Ripoli family, if my memories are correct".

The news made Oswald frown hard. Of course the rivals of Falcone would now target him to try to win what they weren't able to claim while the old Italian man was still on the throne.

He will have to plan a meeting with them first for Victor and Y/N to identify clearly the heads of the organization, then order a proper execution.

No one tries to kill him like a coward and stay alive long enough to try it a second time. His thinking had to stop when a heavy sigh and a horrible curse reached his ears.

"I swear I'm gonna bring them back from death to choke them with a fucking plastic bag!" The assassin swore, holding in front of her the right side of her jacket and staring at a fresh hole on the higher border of the pocket.

"That moronic dude didn't just have to be a shitty shooter, he also had to rip it off with his fucking knife! It was a gift from Carmine for God fucking sake!" She spat as she kicked said man's head with her hig heels boot.

Oswald watched the scene in deep fascination. If there was something he could understand perfectly, it was her rage. Clothes were something sacred in his opinion as well as his family's, as his father once told him.

Even if he cringed at the colorful insults the woman in front of him was shouting, he had to empathize. The jacket was a beautiful piece, made in high quality silk and, even more important, custom made.

He let a heavy sigh out of his mouth and limped until he went just next to her, pushing her hands away to have a better look at the carnage. "Not like there is something to do with it anymore, it's ruined Oswald. Can you let me go now and stop your pawing?" She sneered.

Her jest was immediately met by a slap on her left arm, supposed to keep her on her spot. "Stop moving idiot, I think I have something which can fix it in my studio." He said calmly, before he let the jacket go and start to walk outside of the room to the place he mentioned, indicating her to follow him with a move of his hand.

Y/N had to raise a doubting brow at this but decided to give it a shot. After all, if there was something she was absolutely trusting Cobblepot with, it was fashion and sewing.

Once inside of the room, she first heard him fumble from the side of the room, just next to the platform and the huge mirror. "I know I have a similar silk somewhere that I kept after making Ed's dark green suit." He informed, still sorting out all the fabrics he had.

"You were the one who made it? Damn! So that's what the two of you were doing in that room." She sounded disappointed and her innuendo won a glare from Oswald who momentarily stopped what he was doing, too stunned by her audacity.

"What is that supposed to mean, Y/N?" He asked slowly, in a guarded tone, just to see if she would poke him more viciously. She didn't, though, on the contrary. The woman assassin raised her hands in an attempt to ease his starting anger.

"I didn't want to sound mean or mocking. I truly was rooting for you guys. And I'm genuinely sad your bromance didn't end well." She said. "But nevermind. You made one hell of a piece with his costume! You're truly talented I have to say" She cheered as she put her thumbs up in front of her for him to see.

Again, he was so taken aback that he brutally stopped his fumbling to stare at her like a second head had grown just next to her own. She even wore a gentle smile he never had the chance to see before.

Not her stupid half or toothy grins, no. A real smile. She was indeed a beautiful woman, he had to recognize. And couldn't stop the warmth he now felt on his cheeks and the back of his neck.

Cobblepot cleared his throat and turned back in front of his fabrics, finally seeing the one he was looking for. "Ah! Here it is. What do you think?" He asked as he extended it in front of him.

She took a few steps to be able to touch it and put her arm against it to see if the green wouldn't be too light. "I'm no specialist here dear, but I think it'll do. I really like the color." She nodded slowly, her eyes moving up to catch his. "What do you think though?"

The little man looked at the juxtaposition of the colors, moving the fabric on different angles to see how it would look under the sun or the lights. "Go on the platform for a second" He asked.

She indulged him, letting Oswald manipulate her arms and the side of the jacket, trying different way to incorporate the dark green silk. "I can't only put it here or it will look strange." He mumbled and she hummed to agree.

"Since it's just situated on the border of the pocket, I can remove both of them and replace it with the new fabric. I would recommend to do the same with the collar. Small touches like these will make it beautifully and people will see it as an intentional artistic choice. Plus green looks good on you I have to say", He detailed.

The look of total wonder in her dark eyes made him go red all over again. "What now?!" He screeched awkwardly. She blinked once before answering. "Dude, why are you at the head of a gang, you'd totally rock as a stylist." She said, again in genuine gentleness.

Oswald shrugged and cleared his throat to try to muffle his swelling pride. "Well I'm also very talented at plotting. And, as another talented plotter, you know it, Y/N." He said.

She pointed him with her index finger and nod solemnly "Damn right you are dear. You're one of the most clever plotter I ever seen, I recognize it".

He felt his smile grow without even thinking about doing the action. This moment was truly priceless he thought. Her statement as well as the respect he saw in her eyes was a greet achievement. Not everyone can boast about being recognized as good at something by the woman, and win her admiration? Goodness even less people entered in this category.

"Uuuuuh... Unexpected?!" A flat voice he knew too well resonated from the door.

Standing with a gun in each hand, Victor was currently looking at them like someone put something in his drink making him see pink elephants everywhere.

Oswald and Y/N took a few steps back to be able to face him properly. "Knocking Victor! We discussed this!" Cobblepot shouted as he was folding the piece of fabric he previously manipulated. "Anyway", he continued. "You're here, finally. Five men broke inside of the house, Y/N took care of them. She thinks they are from the Ripoli's family".

The hitman nodded a few times, his eyes still on them and how Oswald helped his wife out of one of her favorite jacket, talking about some measurements and other bullshit he wasn't sure he wanted to know. However, what he wanted to know, aside from the bodies in the house when he arrived a moment ago - which Oswald explained. Was the silence.

Well, not really the silence, but the - for once- calm voices of Oswald and Y/N having what looked like a quiet and polite conversation. What in hell was that?! Unbelievable. Truly.

"Something's wrong with Carmine's gift? ." Asked Zsasz, while putting back his guns in his holsters, his usually empty eyes still staring at the strange duet.

"Well it's not really what I wanted you to remember about my previous little briefing, Victor", grumbled Oswald. He was now putting some dark green string in a needle. "One of the Italians currently drenching my floor damaged this beautiful piece. It would be criminal to throw it away. That's why I'll fix it." Said Oswald, like he was talking to a five years old.

"Uh-uh", Said Victor, still deeply disturbed by the whole situation.

Just behind Oswald, Y/N showed the other assassin one of her bests grins. "What with the face, Dearest? Oswald and me discovered we had at least something in common. Aren't you happy for us?" She taunted.

The bald man frowned a bit. "Not sure", he muttered between gritted teeth, making her snort and his boss let out an irritated 'tch'. "As your boss, and a fashion enthusiast, it's my duty to provide help when it's within my capacities" Said Oswald like it was an evidence as he started his taylor's work.

"If you say so, boss", answered Victor, his eyes fixed on the complex work he was witnessing. The curves of his wife blocked his view though, and he caught himself checking out if she had any injury. Call it a reflex at this point. She was doing the same, he noted.

When she reached him, she was still wearing her taunting smile, which was grewing bigger as Cobblepot was making a few comments for himself about this or that point to put here. "We got a bit carried away I have to say", she chuckled and shrugged, having to snap her fingers a few times in front of his face to grab his attention back.

"Carried away? Sweetness you were being civil, with Penguin. Even your most wicked mind games never brought me so close to a brainfuck." He whispered.

Another chuckle answered him. "Maybe next time I'll tie you to a chair and make you watch Oswald and me having a tea party and bonding with each other even more." She jested.

"Please don't. Gives me the creeps." He breathed. Frankly. Y/N and Oswald insulting each other was like Gotham and corruption: indissociable. A constant. Any thug in town knew it even before knowing what the two look like. Now them chit-chatting and bonding was concerning. As if the fragile balance of order was suddenly breaking, giving its place to chaos.

"Dearest?" He heard her called.

"Victor?" Also called Oswald.

He blinked, getting out of his spiraling mind. Both of them were now standing in front of him, looking at him like he was going to faint. He wasn't far.

The hitman took a deep inspiration under their worried eyes. "Please stop it" He asked.

"Uh?" They stupidly asked in sync. That was creepy.

"Maybe he needs to sit, Oswald" Y/N suggested, putting her right hand on Zsasz's shoulder and squeezing it a bit.

"Good idea, Y/N, help me taking him to the chair would you?" Penguin answered, putting his other hand on his other shoulder and guiding him near the seat.

"Seriously guys, quit it", muttered the hitman, letting the duet helping him to sit.

"I'm going to bring some water", said his wife.

"Take it at temperature, I'm afraid a cold bottle would aggravate his state of shock", said Oswald.

"I agree", she nodded while gently taping Victor's jaw.

"STOP BEING FRIENDLY GODDAMMIT!" Zsasz finally yelled, making the two jolt in surprise. "It's not natural" added the bald man while brushing his hands against his face, missing the shared glace between Oswald and Y/N and their synchronized shrug.

Their little bonding session and newfound friendship were only temporary, it was Gotham after all. Both knew it.

A/N - I hope you liked it! 🥰

[circlingravens]

"Everything changed, when the fire nation attacked."

I cannot believe you actually sent this, anon. I both laugh and cry, because how am I supposed to turn this into something whump related? Like this, apparently. And... whoops. Turned out to be more than five sentences. 

"Everything changed when the fire nation attacked." 

Maeve didn’t recognize the line, but the sound still made her pause. She remained still until she identified the source of the sound was a person-- her target was supposed to be alone, after all. She listened for another moment before pulling herself up, the windowsill her gloved hands were locked on providing more than enough of a hold to do so. For the briefest moment, she was silhouetted against the city’s lights, then she slipt silently into the apartment. Pressing herself against the wall, she slowly drew a long knife, and edged a half step sideways, just enough to see around the corner into the next room. 

She froze.

This was a child, glued in front of the television. Her target was supposed to be here, alone-- it couldn’t be the kid, could it? She silently ran through the details in her head.

Blonde hair. A young woman, short in stature, thin. Green eyes. Fourteenth floor, will be alone for several hours tonight. 

This wasn’t a woman, this was a girl! There had to be some mistake-- she wouldn’t kill a child. She wasn’t supposed to kill children anyway, her own morals or not.

Maeve left.

“You failed.” The voice was pitched low, but remained perfectly calm. It did nothing to soothe Maeve, no, not at all. She stood, hands clasped behind her back, ramrod straight in front of a desk. A man sat behind it, thumbing through files, as though the current discussion wasn’t important enough to warrant his full attention.

Despite the hammering of her heart in her chest, Maeve allowed her lip to curl.

“She was a kid.”

“It was your target,” the man shot back, something dangerous glittering behind his eyes. 

“What happened to ‘no children!’” She growled back, glowering for a moment.

“Circumstance, Three” “Maeve. I’ve told you before-- don’t call me some fucking number.”

A cold look was cast in her direction, but the point was conceded. 

“You are here to follow orders. Not make your own. You’re given a target, you take them out. Don’t question. Don’t fail,” now the voice was cold, and Maeve was barely able to fight back a cringe. Perhaps she shouldn’t have-

“I do hope you didn’t have plans.” The sudden shift in tone made her blink; his voice was now soft, smooth, even warm, but dread pooled in her stomach anyway. 

“One wants to see you.”

One-- one of the few assassins in the agency with a supernatural power. A power that seemed to be engineered just to give the rest of them hell whenever the boss ordered it. A power that, somehow, was able to keep Maeve’s own at bay. Her memories of the previous time she’d been ordered to ‘visit’ them were blurry, but she did remember the pain. It didn’t fade for days, but left no physical mark. Perfect for punishing someone you didn’t want to cripple, she supposed. Though, One had left at least a couple assassins practically mindless.

Maeve somehow kept her expression in the scornful mask she wanted long enough to get out of the room, kept herself still long enough to get away from the boss. Then her hands were shaking.

This wasn’t good. Not at all.