akingofgotham - Tumblr blog

[akingofgotham]

made by twitter.com/aKingOfGotham

[akingofgotham]

made by twitter.com/aKingOfGotham

[akingofgotham]

made by twitter.com/aKingOfGotham

[akingofgotham]

made by Twitter.com/aKingOfGotham

[akingofgotham]

made by twitter.com/aKingOfGotham

[akingofgotham]

1. Fʀɪᴇɴᴅ [ɢᴏʀᴅᴏɴ & ᴄᴏʙʙʟᴇᴘᴏᴛ]  ↳ᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ ʙʏ #Sᴋʏᴇ

Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot was the former umbrella-man of Fish Mooney, one-time underling of Salvatore Maroni and spy for Carmine Falcone, until Fish exposed him to Maroni. Following that, he ran this particular nightclub as part of the Falcone Crime Family and acted as Falcone's right-hand man. However, he soon betrayed Falcone, almost killing him. After a gang conflict, he took over Falcone's organization and after Fish and Maroni were out of the way he had become an influential and powerful gangster. Cobblepot was a rather skinny young man of average height, pale skin and noticeably bright icy blue eyes. His nose was slightly crooked and pointed, while usually seen wearing his signature grin. Black hair was always messily scattered across his forehead, with some spiky ends pointing erratically at the top. His attire consisted mainly of a white shirt with a black, Continental Cross tie with its ends tucked inside a silk, purple checkered vest and a black coat with dark green lapels, black pants and matching shoes. Due the torture he suffered for betraying Fish Mooney, one of his knees was permanently damaged or never healed right, forcing him to walk almost waddling "like a penguin". At first glance Cobblepot appeared to be milquetoast, subservient, and somewhat of a sycophant. In reality he was quite the ambitious and cunning sociopath who was always willing to do whatever it took to obtain power. Despite this hunger, Cobblepot was extremely patient and used his higher intellect to concoct plans in order to reach his goals. Virtually every move he made was premeditated to a certain degree. Even when things didn’t go exactly as planned, Cobblepot was highly adept at playing whichever type of hand he was dealt for the best. Among the more darker parts of Cobblepot's personality was his tendency for violence. He was far more than willing to kill someone whenever it felt necessary and does so without pity or remorse. He often spoke with a constant smile, talking fast and shaky, with variant levels of flattery to whom he was speaking to, usually sarcastic. His facial expressions declared that, like the spoiled only child he seemed to be on the outside, Oswald was always picked on by others and the universe, rather than ever being at fault himself. At first, calling him Penguin made him very infuriated, to the point of murderous intents, but later, he decided to accept and adopt the epithet. — For lack of a better term, Oswald Cobblepot sat boredly at the bar of his restaurant. Skinny fingers drummed against the red oak as a glass of Gotham City’s finest red wine occupied his other hand. It was 10:00 P.M. on the dot when his Galaxy Nexus lit up with Detective Gordon’s contact number. Oh? A sly smile crept across his pale features as he poked the button, accepting the detective’s call and putting it on speaker. “Good evening, Jim! What a pleasant surprise! How may I be of assistance?” “Penguin, it's Harvey.” A look of confusion twisted Oswald’s face when hearing Detective Harvey Bullock’s on the other end of the receiver. “Jim is, well, he's been better. I think he's fucking delirious—” “What happened!?” Abruptly standing, Oswald took the phone off speaker and held it to his ear. “It was a shootout. Bullet wound in the shoulder and—” “Take him to the hospital for Christ’s sake!” “If ya’d ever let me finish.” Harvey hissed through gritted teeth. “He refuses. Saying bogus bullshit and asking for you. Saying ya know a doc that'd keep shit off record. Apparently he doesn't want Lee or the force involved and—” “Where are you?” Oswald demanded as he covered the speaker on his phone with slender fingers, calling for Victor and Butch. “His place and—” “I'll be there in a jiffy.” Hanging up the phone just as one stoic Victor and curious Butch reply to their summons. “Gentlemen, it seem as if our friend Jim Gordon is requesting my company.” Victor Zsasz couldn't resist rolling his eyes, “I'll ready the car, boss.” — Without fail, Oswald showed at Jim Gordon’s doorstep shortly after ending the call with Harvey. Also, as promised, a personal doctor came along and tended to Jim’s wounds with ease. “He should recover quickly.” The blond doctor stated with optimism, casting a glance down at Jim who lay asleep on the sofa. “Medicated for pain as needed.” Nodded the doctor, placing a small orange prescription bottle on the glass coffee table. Detective Bullock’s phone interrupted what was about to be an awkward silence. “Yep. Gotcha.” Flipping his old cellphone closed, Harvey scooped his hat from arm of the couch and adjusted it atop his head. “They need me back at the station.” The detective cast a weary look in Jim’s direction before turning and heading out the door. However, right as he was beginning to make his leave, he turned and pointed a finger at Oswald. “You're staying here.” And then he was gone just when Oswald was about to protest. “Oh, great. I see how it is. It's not like I have any plans tonight.” The younger man spat with butter sarcasm. Icy blue eyes met every face in the room. “You may leave.” He dismissed them with a wave of his hand. “But you're all on call tonight. My apologies, gentlemen.” Oswald bade the three men farewell and once they were gone, he limped his way toward the recliner and plopped himself down. — It was midnight when Oswald found himself engulfed in the third episode of Breaking Bad’s season one. Struggling to stay awake, he stifled a yawn. About an hour ago he had located a blanket for Jim and poured himself a glass of Scotch. It wasn't particularly his drink of choice, but all that he could find. Thirty minutes into episode four and he was passed out, curled up on the recliner with his head rested on it's arm. Fully dressed in his usual formal attire having even forgotten to kick his shoes off. Skinny arms wrapped loosely around his torso, Oswald was a silent sleeper although almost anything could wake him. Years of paranoia had forced him into being a dreadfully light sleeper. On the other hand, Detective Jim Gordon stirred and lifted a hand to rub sleep from his eyes. “Fuck... “ Hissed the brunette as he struggled to sit straight. Eyeing the glass of water and orange pill bottle on the glass coffee table in front of him, hazel hues squinted when the light from the television flickered. Delicately massaging his wounded shoulder, those eyes fell upon an unexpected figure curled up on the recliner across the room. “Cobblepot?" Jim called out in confusion as his mind began recollecting images from earlier in the day. “Hey, Penguin.” The detective called out again, pushing the blanket from him. Why is he here? Jim, eyes narrowing, slowly began to stand and walk over to Oswald. An empty glass of scotch sat on the hardwood floor beside the recliner. “Wake up.” He demanded in a tone more stern this time and watched as Penguin gently jerked from his slumber. “O-Oh, Jim!” Oswald murmured sleepily, wincing as he uncurled his bad leg and sat up. “Did you take your medicine?” “What are you doing here?” Jim asked, raising an eyebrow as he noticed Penguin’s sleep mangled hair. Oswald explained how he'd received a call from Detective Bullock stating that Jim had been in an accident and was asking specifically for him. “I didn't ask do you.” Jim grumbled as the pain in his shoulder shot through his arm like a lightning bolt. Icy blue eyes widened as he saw blood beginning to pool outward from beneath the bandages wrapped snuggly around Jim’s injury. “You're bleeding, sit down so I can change that." Standing, ignoring the pain in his leg causes the awkward position he had been sleeping in, Oswald grabbed the bandages from the end table beside the sofa. Jim’s eyes narrowed as he gingerly sat back down, Oswald now kneeling before him with all of the supplies on the floor next to him. “Here.. Just… let me..” The dark haired man began to remove the bandages as slowly and delicately as he possibly could. “Ow! Be more careful!” Jim Gordon hissed through clenched teeth as Cobblepot frantically looked up at him. “What did I do!?” The little man gathered the dirty bandages and places them on the floor. “Just be more steady-handed.” Groaned the detective as he avoided making eye contact. Oswald, as carefully as he possibly could, began to rewrap Jim’s shoulder. Perhaps he hadn't noticed before, but as Jim Gordon sat there with his signature look of frustration, bright blue eyes traced the outline of his chiseled chest and shoulders. Jim was warm beneath his cold, feathery fingers. I'd never seen Jim without his suit and tie… Oswald bit at the inside of his cheek. A shirtless Jim was certainly quite the sight. As he finished wrapping the injury, he couldn't help but to think of how lucky Barbara was.. And how Lee is. Thoughts swirled and butterflies fluttered in his stomach as he waited for a nauseous feeling to roll over him. It never came. Quickly, Oswald began to stand only to lose balance and falter. Sleeping curled on the recliner earlier cramped and sent aches through his deformed leg. “Shit.” Growled Penguin as he unknowingly gripped at Jim’s knee in order to right his stature. “Are you alright?" Inquired Jim as a look of concern appeared across features that were carved from angels themselves. Alarmed blue eyes met that of strict browns. “Y-Yes, I'm fine. My apologies…” Oswald finally regained his posture and silently limped away, wondering why Jim didn't scold him for the touch. Once in the kitchen, the dark haired man grabbed a clean glass and poured himself another heavy drink. “Yeah, make yourself at home.” Mumbles the detective now leaning against the door frame to the kitchen with his good arm. “Sarcasm.” Oswald snapped quietly, bringing the glass to meet his pale lips. “I should really get going.” He added, fingering the glass before knocking the remainder it's contents back. Jim’s eyebrows arched as he watched Penguin take a long sip from his glass. “It's late. Just take my bed, I'll stay on the couch. “ Grinning, Oswald glanced away and sat his glass onto the granite countertop. “I.. You should get some rest, detective.” “I insist.” Jim added before turning and retreating to his bedroom, leaving Oswald standing there. With narrowed eyes, Penguin finished his drink and placed the empty glass in the sink. “Here.” Came the detective's stone voice again as he threw Oswald a pair of clothes in which he barely caught in time. Nose scrunching at Jim’s choice in clothes for him, Oswald was shown to the bedroom where he was left alone to change. A large sweatshirt and pair baggy sweatpants later, he found himself neatly folding his formal attire when a quiet knock on the door nearly startled him. “Yes?” Oswald called just as Jim opened the door. “What are you staring at?” A handsome smirk faintly displayed across the detective’s lips brought a heat to Oswald’s face again. “You look..” Jim started, pausing in search for the right description. “Ridiculous.” Muttered Penguin as he broke eye contact and sat on the edge of the bed. All Oswald received in return was short chuckle and a muttered 'goodnight’ before he was alone. Sighing, Oswald ran a hand across the fabric beneath him. Perhaps it was indeed time to get some sleep.

[akingofgotham]

Gᴏᴏᴅɴɪɢʜᴛ [ʙᴜʟʟᴏᴄᴋ & ɴʏɢᴍᴀ] ↳ᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ ʙʏ #Sᴋʏᴇ

Edward Nygma was a forensics scientist for the Gotham City Police Department. He had a penchant for relaying information in the form of riddles, a feat all the other detectives and employees of the precinct seemed to resent. Edward had earned his degree at Gotham City University and top of his class, graduating with flying colors. Edward is intelligent, calculating, kind, and caring. His meticulous and observant nature makes him an excellent forensic scientist, often detecting clues and connections his superiors miss. However he is also narcissistic, being infatuated by his intelligence and enjoys telling riddles to prove this, much to the annoyance of most of his co-workers. He can also be awkward, unintentionally insulting, and selfish. Nygma appears to desire a friend in Detectives Gordon and Bullock, but his social awkwardness prevents him from embracing it. Also, a flaw of his, Edward is more than often late for work however not many have truly noticed. He enjoys playing video games, saying that each one provides a new challenge and that it is similar to detective work (this being one of the main reasons to his tardiness.) This being said, Edward Nygma hurried his way to a recent crimescene. As he pulled a coat labeled forensics over his skinny shoulders, Detective Harvey Bullock was the first to note his arrive with a roll of his eyes. “It's about goddamn time, Ed.” Detective Bullock snapped, forever and always irritated whenever Nygma entered the scene. However Nygma greeted the detective with a cheeky smile before passing him to crouch down where the dead body rested in the street. Examining the body and figuring out the cause of death was far too simple. Although the interesting, and slightly unfortunate, part of the afternoon was having to hitch a ride with detective Bullock back to the precinct. “You enjoy classic rock?" Inquired Edward Nygma as Harvey started up the engine and Led Zeppelin began playing through the speakers. “I personally prefer the piano over the guitar and—” “No one asked, Ed. No one cares.” Grumbled the older man as he lit himself a cigarette. “Did you know nicotine reaches your brain in 10 seconds?" The brunette smiled, looking over at Harvey with emerald green hues. “I don't ca—” “Did you also know that each cigarette contains approximately 4,800 chemicals?” “Jesus Christ, Ed, do you ever shut up?” “Well.. I—” “Don't even bother answering, Ed. You're giving me a headache.” Eyes narrowing, Harvey grit his teeth. Infuriating. He thought to himself as his grip on the steering wheel tightened. Ed sunk back in his seat and remained silent with his eyes fixated out the window until they arrived at the precinct. “I appreciate the lift, detective.” Nygma smiled pleasantly while they walked toward the front doors. “Yeah, whatever. Don't mention it.” Ed vanished into his lab the moment he stepped inside. Nibbling his thumbnail as he scanned over the documents of the day’s homicide. Pausing to adjust his glasses, the scientist sat back in his chair a closed his eyes for a couple of moments until a hard knock as his door scared him. “U-Uhm, yes?" Ed called as he frantically began to shuffle through the pages on his desk in order to make is seem as if he was busy. “Where's the report for yesterday, Ed?” Came Harvey Bullock’s rough time of voice. “Ah, oh.. Yes, here.” Scrambling to locate the file, Ed stood and offered the folder to Harvey. “Need the one from earlier this evening. Get it done.” Demanded the detective as he glanced and met Nygma's piercing gaze. “Thanks, by the way.” “Oh, of course! I'll have the other report typed up in a jiffy!" Ed smiled widely as Harvey had actually thanked him for once. After detective Bullock had left his office, Edward started on the report almost instantly. Hours flew by as he typed a thorough paper and has he sat while it printed, those emerald eyes fell closed once again. He was up the entire night battling his alter ego’s demons and even the knock on his door didn't wake him. Harvey grunted as he let himself in only to gaze upon Nygma sleeping at his desk. “Ed.” He called with a stern voice, now standing beside him. “Ed.” The detective murmured, nudging the scientist with his pointer finger. Nygma jolted awake and repositioned his glasses before glaring up at the man who woke him from his slumber. “Why don't you head home and get some sleep?” Harvey lifted and eyebrow as he watched the younger man gather the papers from the printer on his desk. “No, no.. I'm fine. Really. Thank you for your concern, detective.” Combing his fingers through his mocha brown hair. Before handing the papers to Bullock, Nygma stapled them together and offered a sleep riddled smile. “Here's the report you asked for.” “Go home, Ed.” “But I'm—” “It's late anyway.” Harvey pulled a pair of reading glasses from his coat pocket, sliding them on to browse through the report. “Oh.. Well, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to get some rest.” Standing, somewhat in a sleepy trance, Edward gathered his things and retired the white lab coat to its designated hanger. “Need a ride?" Harvey offered, removing his glasses. Nygma’s eyes slightly narrowed. How odd. He pondered to himself. Was this some type of.. Joke? “Yes, that would be lovely.” Edward met Harvey down by his vehicle in the GCPD parking lot with a bright smile lighting up his boyish features. The sun was already well beneath the horizon and the street lights flickered, casting awkward shadows throughout the city. “What are you always smiling about?” Detective Bullock asked once they were both seated in the car, engine roaring to life. “Simulating a genuine smile can boost your mood. Oh! Did you know that smiling only uses five of your fifty-three facial muscles?" Bright green eyes gazed toward the detective. “No, Ed. I didnt.” Harvey sighed heavily; this young man never ceased to shut his mouth. As Edward gave Harvey directions to his apartment, he blabbed on and on about different facts… facts about the weather, the moon and sun, and even various animals that Harvey had never heard of in his entire life. However the only difference now was that, unlike back at the precinct, Harvey seemed to be genuinely interested in what Nygma had to say. “Christmas is a week away, did you know that?" Lifting dark eyebrows, Harvey shook his head. “Actually I had completely forgotten.” He somewhat mumbled before parallel parking in front of Edward Nygma’s apartment. “Thank you so much for the ride home, detective.” Nygma smiled cheerfully and as he began to open the passenger side door, a grip around his wrist startled him. “Goodnight, Ed.” Harvey said with a tone Ed didn't recognize. “Goodnight, Detective Bullock.” The brunette said awkwardly as Harvey released him and the whole way to the door of his apartment… he felt eyes on him. The next morning at the GCPD, Nygma was greeted by Detective James Gordon with a reluctant invitation to a holiday party he and his lady-love were hosting that evening. A bright smile spread across his boyish features as he pleasantly accepted said invitation. Thus after a long day of work, Edward flagged down a taxi cab to get home in order to rest himself for the night’s rather exciting occasion.

[akingofgotham]

4. Aʟᴛᴇʀ-Eɢᴏ [ɴʏɢᴍᴀ & ᴄᴏʙʙʟᴇᴘᴏᴛ] ↳ᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ ʙʏ #Sᴋʏᴇ

Edward Nygma fumbles with his house keys as he stood in front of his apartment door. It was early evening when Harvey dropped him off in his neighborhood. Shoving the door open, Nygma shuffled inside only to drop all of his belongings at the door. Glassed tucked into the pocket of his button up dress shirt, a scowl upon his face. Having gotten into an argument with Detective Bullock had sent his alter ego into power drive, breaking ruthlessly through his gentle seems. “I've been trying to get ahold of you.” Came Oswald Cobblepot’s sassy attitude, standing there with his skinny arms folded across his chest. Unusually annoyed, Edward spun around to face Oswald. To glare directly into those icy blue eyes. “Yes. I was aware of that.” He snapped, causing a look of utter disbelief to flash across Oswald’s angled features. “My cellphone did not stop notifying me.” Obviously infuriated, Ed unbuttoned his dress shirt and threw it across the arm of a kitchen chair. “What's your problem? The date go sour with the detective?” Oswald decided to snap back in return. At this point, Nygma had Oswald pinned roughly against the old brick wall in the living room. Emerald green eyes now drenched in a toxic hue while his voice strained a venomously defensive tone. “You have no right to meddle around in my personal life. “ The brunette hissed through clenched teeth as he locked eye contact with bright blues. “In fact, Mr. Penguin, you should feel lucky that it was I who found you the other night. Also, may us not forget, that I have been allowing you to hide away in my home.” Ed’s bitterness had completely caught Oswald off guard as he struggled beneath the grip held on him. Looking up at Edward, Oswald was about to state his protest before a pair of lips muffled his words. Grunting, the shorter man was able to wiggle his wrists free and shove Ed back with all the strength he could muster. “What's the matter with you!?” Penguin growled as he adjusted his posture. “Nothing.” Edward smirked something sinister as glanced toward his guest in distress. “Why are you looking at me like that?” Taking a limped step backwards, Oswald wasn't quick enough to evade Nygma’s precise speed towards him. A warm hand wrapped around the nape of Oswald’s neck as he was yanking into another quite violent kiss. An arm was then laced securely at his waist while a heat rose to his cheeks. “Get off of me!" Oswald cried as he jerked his lips away from Ed’s, however it was only his words they were putting up a protest. His body, on the other hand, didn't seem to resist at all. “Do you really want me off of you? Truly?" Nygma grinned, placing his lips now along Oswald’s neck.

[akingofgotham]

3. Eǫᴜᴀʟ [ɴʏɢᴍᴀ & ᴄᴏʙʙʟᴇᴘᴏᴛ] ↳ᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ ʙʏ #Sᴋʏᴇ

Oswald Cobblepot, a being seemingly constructed purely of mischievous schemes and quiet, sadistic glee actually appeared quite troubled when he awoke that morning. A memory of last night immediately popped into his head along with the pounding of a migraine. Looking beside him only to feel slightly disappointed that Edward Nygma had left so early for work. However, a small, clever and deceptively boyish smile appeared across his face when he noticed a handwritten letter from said Edward Nygma. Before he began to read the letter, jarring and unwelcome thoughts of last night sent obscene images bloomed in his mind. He sat waiting for the nausea to roll through his stomach. But.. It never did. Oswald positioned himself on the edge of the bed when he opened the letter. Mr. Penguin, I'm awfully apologetic for last night. I woke up extra early and made breakfast for you. It's in the fridge. Sincerely, Ed Nygma P.S— the answer to the riddle yesterday evening was love. Oswald was sitting in disbelief as he felt a heat rise to his cheeks. Why am I blushing like a schoolgirl? Shaking his head, he stood and shuffled into the bathroom. My hair looks like shit. Was the instant reaction he had as he peered into the mirror. It took him what felt like an hour trying to fix and adjust his appearance when his stomach growled. After sitting down and enjoying breakfast, Oswald retrieved his phone from where he left it on the sofa last night. Waiting impatiently for the device to power on, he frowned when seeing no new notifications from Ed. However there was a swarm of alerts from Jim Gordon. Things along such lines as: Jim: Where the fuck are you? Jim: I've been by the restaurant four times this week. No one's knows where you are. It's urgent. Jim: This is getting ridiculous. Jim: If you don't answer your fucking phone so help me God. Jim: If you turn up dead I'm going to be pissed. Jim: Hello? Lifting a slender eyebrow, Oswald plopped down onto the sofa as he grinned to himself. Although he couldn't help the curiosity overwhelming him about the urgency, he left the messages unanswered. Oswald yawned as he curled up on the couch, wiggling his toes between the cushions. Having sent a message to Ed thanking him for breakfast, he skimmed through those message Jim had sent him. Against his better judgement, his thumb hovered over the call button. I should let him know I'm not dead at least. Oswald concluded. Simply put of consideration. Listing to the dial tone for no more than a few seconds, Jim’s voice frantically came through the receiver. “Where the fuck have you been?” “How impolite, detective.” A wide boyish smirk lit Cobblepot's entire being. The sound of passing cars was faintly heard in the background. “Have you been missing me~?” “Get your head out of the dirt. The entire GCPD is looking for you. And the mere thought to include me in your whereabouts must have slipped your mind?” “Oh, calm down. No worries, detective, I am perfectly safe. Not a scratch on me minus the gun wound your bullet left through my shoulder.” Oswald hissed unhappily, tracing a delicate finger across the healing injury. “However, there are no hard feelings. I'll just expect a small favor sometime in the nearby future.” “I already told you, Penguin, no more favors or deals or bargains.” Oswald rolled his eyes, completely unamused by Jim’s hard toned voice. “As you wish. But mark my words, James, you will need my help and when you do.. Consider it not an option.” Jim was silent for a long minute before, “Where are you?” An unrecognizable emotion muddled his words. “That's none of your concern.” Another gap of quietness. “Would you meet me at my place later tonight?” “Oh? What for? So you can play the role of good cop and have me arrested? I don't trust you, Jim. It's a shame.. Tsk.” “Why is that?” Jim growled through gritted teeth. “Must I explain myself?” Oswald huffed, annoyed. "Your recent actions towards me have shown none other than disloyalty.” “I gotta go. I'll call you later so you better keep your phone close.” ‘Who are you on the phone with? Your boyfriend?’ Came Harvey Bullock’s voice not to far off in the distance. “No, it was Lee—” Were the last words Oswald heard before Jim hung up the phone. — Oswald woke from an unexpected nap on the couch with a slight headache and feeling of grogginess. When did it start raining? He asked himself, sitting up and peering out the large windows. What time is it? Scrambling, the young man scooped his phone up off the floor and glared into the brightness. It was only 2:26 P.M., but why hasn't he heard from Ed? Ed always replied to him, at least once. I should call him. Oswald bit at his bottom lip in contemplation. Well… I'll try sending one more message. Then I'll call if he doesn't get back to him within the next hour. He nodded to himself as he quickly typed up another message and sent it to Ed. — Edward Nygma was digging through file after file with stoic look across his face. The chief had requested a specific file from years ago. What for? Ed didn't bother to ask, just obey. Unfortunately, his phone was left forgotten about I. His desk in the other room and was completely unaware of Penguin’s attempts to contact him. “Dammit.” Ed growled beneath his breath as he pushed the file cabinet closed. Due to the events of last night left his brain muddled. “Eddie..” Came a voice all too familiar. Harvey Bullock quietly closes the door behind him, lazy brown hues meeting hazel from across the room. “You look like a damsel in distress.” The older man chuckled; Ed sat on the floor with piles and stacks of files surrounding him, a specific look of frustration on his usual cheery features. “Wanna get lunch?” Asked Harvey as he manoeuvres through the mess in attempt to get closer to Ed. “I don't have time for that. My apologies if I am unavailable to take the several 'lunch’ breaks you and Detective Gordon vanish on.” Agitation was thick in Nygma’s voice as he shuffled through papers, nudging his glasses as he felt them sliding down his nose. “I'll stay and help ya out then. As boring as this shit seems to be..” Harvey truly was a good man even though he was to coward to express his liking for Edward in the presence of another. A heavy sigh released itself, unwanted, as hazel hues darted up to Harvey’s mocha browns. “Oh!” Harvey, having just remembered something seemingly important, dug through the pockets of his leather jacket to pull out a crinkled piece of paper. “I have a riddle for you.” Glancing up from the small paper, Harvey grinned down at Edward. This, as Harvey must have known, caught Nygma’s attention as he tilted his head in wonder. God, I feel so fucking stupid. The detective thought to himself as he returned his glance to the paper in hand. “Uh.. What God never sees..” A nervous glance to make sure Edward was listening. Which he was.. Keenly. “What a king.. Seldom sees.. And what I see before me.” Edward Nygma caught himself grinning as he looked up at Harvey who was trying his best to connect with him. “An equal.” The brunette answered, the look on his face softening. Perhaps taking a break would settle his frantic nerves. “Why don't we call it quits for the day?" Harvey suggested as he offered a hand to help Ed up off the floor. “I'll meet ya out at my car.” Nygma watched as Detective Bullock fled the file room and smiled menacingly to himself at the thought of leaving work early. Never in his history of being in forensics has he departed voluntarily before nine. Thus said, he returned to his office and shrugged off his white lab coat, draping over his computer chair. A bright purple blink in the corner of his eye caught his attention. Oswald had taken his phone and customized his entire contact information. There were three unread messages in which Nygma replied stating he was off to lunch with Detective Bullock and he would return home a bit earlier. — Infuriated by the message he had received from Edward Nygma, Oswald pouted as he vigorously threw his phone onto the coffee table. How dare he pull that highschool bullshit with me last night. Furious, Oswald gathered his legs up onto the sofa. Time ticked by slowly. Every second felt like a minute. I thought Harvey loathed the mere idea of being in the same room as Ed let alone taking him to lunch.

[akingofgotham]

2. Jᴇᴀʟᴏᴜsʏ [ɴʏɢᴍᴀ ᴥ ᴄᴏʙʙʟᴇᴘᴏᴛ] ↳ᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ ʙʏ #Sᴋʏᴇ

Nygma left the water running for Oswald as he exited the shower and dried himself. “I'll be right back.” Ed pleasantly assured his guest as he went to get dressed. A pair of forest green sweatpants and a white v-neck t-shirt would have to do. Also grabbing a pair of black sweatpants and a Ramones band t-shirt for Oswald; they were the smallest he could find. Retrieving his glasses from where he had left them on the counter, Ed returned to the bathroom. “I, uhm, grabbed you a pair of clothes.” Edward informed Oswald as he heard the shower water come to a stop. Without hesitation, the brunette pulled a fresh towel from the hanger and opened the shower curtain with a broad smile. Glaring up at Nygma, dark circles were becoming visible beneath Penguin’s crystalline blue hues. “I'm freezing.” He whined reluctantly as Ed began to wrap the dry towel around his shivering form. “I can dress myself.” Oswald hissed when Nygma was finished wrapping him up. “Of course.” Ed left the small bathroom and gently closed the door behind him. A dull ache began to throb along his shoulders due to the few nights he’d been sleeping on the sofa. A sullen look befell his features as he started on cleaning up the kitchen and living room, humming a delicate tune to himself as he did so. On the other hand, Oswald Cobblepot pulled on a pair of clothes that were a size too big for him. Placing his hands flat against the ceramic base of the sink, he stared at himself in the mirror. Lost in his thoughts until startled by the sound of the doorbell. Who was stopping by to see Edward Nygma at 10:45 P.M.? Opening the bathroom door just enough for him to peek outside, Oswald couldn't help but to be curious. Ed halted the dishes he was stacking beside the sink at the sound of said doorbell. Adjusting his glasses, the brunette walked down the short hallway that lead to the front door. Peering through the tiny peephole, Ed’s jaw clenched. It was Harvey Bullock. Harvey was a detective at the GCPD, Jim Gordon’s partner. This man was loyal to more than just the law, dedicated to whatever he put his mind to. However, on the clock and in public he was quite harsh toward Edward. Hesitating, Nygma combed his damp hair back in order to look semi-proper. Running his fingers down his shirt, removing any creases or wrinkles before unlocking and opening the door. “Detective Bullock. What.. What can I do for you this evening?" Nygma inquired, casting a glance back toward the bathroom door which was now cracked open. Oswald was eavesdropping. “Cut the formalities, Ed, you gonna let me in or nah?" The blond asked, an eyebrow lifting as he took a step forward. “It's not exactly a good time.” Nygma adverted his gaze, nibbling on his bottom lip. Harvey grunted and smirked at Ed before leaning in to kiss him. Chuckling softly, Ed placed a finger over the man’s lips. “Like I said—” “Not a good time, yeah. What's the issue?" Folding his arms over his chest, lazy brown eyes narrowed. Offering a sheepish little smile, Ed shrugged as he was unable to think of a proper excuse. Oswald Cobblepot’s whereabouts were critical to keep hidden. How could he get himself out of this sticky situation without coming off suspicious? “Just tired.” “Tired? Wait, you sleep?” Harvey teased, a devilishly charming smirk playing across his rugged features. “Indeed I do, detective.” Nygma replied, slipping his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. Without further ado, Harvey let himself inside and placed a calloused hand on the back of Ed’s neck to pull him so their lips met. Reluctant to do so with the knowledge of being spied on, Nygma attempted to back away with no avail. By that time Harvey had his free arm snaked around Ed’s slender waist. Arching his head out of the kiss, piercing green hues met the pair of mocha browns directly in front of him. “Yeah, yeah. I'll let ya sleep.” Pouted the older man as he released Nygma without a further argument. “See ya bright and early.” Harvey winked, chuckling before backing out of the doorway. “Goodnight, detective.” And with that, Edward closed and locked the door. A clapping sound startled Nygma as he whirled around to see Oswald leaning against the door frame of the bathroom. “Who would have guessed!” Penguin smirked, although the look in his eyes hinted.. Frustration, perhaps? “Mind your own business.” Ed hissed as he dropped his gaze and returned to the kitchen in which he had been spot cleaning before Harvey unexpectedly showed up out of the blue. “Isn't he a rough around the edges for you?" Penguin wore a look of mockery as he prodded Nygma for answers. “Keep your nose out of my personal life. It's strictly an.. Occasional romance type of relationship.” Edward muttered through gritted teeth. “So, like a booty call?” Folding his arms snuggly over his chest, Oswald tilted his head. Turning to face his guest, Nygma glared at him through his lenses. “Don't make it sound disgusting.” He snapped back in return. "Go to bed.” Penguin laughed mischievously, "Since when do I have a bedtime?” Edward Nygma took a deep breath. “This you should always keep because no one else wants it. What am I?” Oswald groaned. ”How many times do I have to tell you I don't—” “Your attitude.” Nygma mumbled as he walked across the room and flicked the lights off, crawling onto the sofa with a subtle reluctance. Rolling his eyes dramatically, Penguin limped over to where Ed was on the sofa and nudged him in the back with his knee. Twirling around, obviously irritated, Edward glared up at the man hovering over him. “Get up. You're sleeping with me.” Oswald demanded as he turned and slowly made his way into the bedroom. Confused, Nygma curiously sat up and adjusted his glasses. After gathering his pillow and blanket, he followed Cobblepot into the dark bedroom only to throw his things down silently and slipped into bed. It was odd feeling the warmth of another person laying down beside him. Oswald was unpredictable and it was becoming bothersome. Having almost forgotten, Ed removed his glasses and gingerly placed them on the nightstand beside the bed. Situating himself comfortably on his back, he stared up at the shadows on the ceiling. That's when a quite the satisfying thought popped into his head and a smile crept across his face. “Are you jealous?" He asked, turning his head to face Penguin who had his back to him. “What?" Oswald hissed into the darkness. “What type of man do you take me for?” Nygma grinned further at the reaction as he turned and nestled his face into crook of Oswald’s neck. “You miss me when I'm at work.” Shivering at Nygma’s breath on his neck, Penguin slightly leaned away. “It's all in your head, friend.” “I don't think so.” The brunette cooed, lacing an arm around his skinny waist. “And now you appear jealous of Detective Bullock.” “Shut up.” Oswald hissed, turning to glare at him. “Make me.” Nygma smirked when realizing how Oswald didn't pull away from his embrace. “What is worth billions of dollars, but comes to you for free?” Whispered the scientist as he leaned closed and brushed the tip of his nose to Penguin’s. Was it the alcohol from earlier that was making his cheeks feel warm? Or was it because Ed was to close? “I.. Don't know.” Oswald mumbled, averting his gaze for just a moment. “Do you give up?" Ed whispered even softer now, lips grazing the pair in front of him. Sapphire blue eyes fell shut as he inched closer, delicately closing the gap between their lips before fully realizing exactly what he was doing. “Shut up with the stupid riddles!" Penguin growled, pushing Nygma aside. “I changed my mind! Go sleep on the—” That set of lips cut him off unexpectedly rough as Ed brushed his fingers through Oswald’s damp black hair. However, it was Penguin himself who parted his lips in attempt to deepen the kiss which he wasn't very good at. This made a grin curl at the corners of Nygma’s mouth as he pulled from the kiss. “Have you never kissed anyone before?" Came the question that brightened the color upon Oswald’s cheeks. “Don't judge me!” “No judgement.” Nygma stated simply right before he effortlessly crawled atop Oswald and resumed the kiss. Penguin could feel his entire body temperature rise with Ed on top of him as he tried his best to keep up. “S-Stop it, Ed.. Get off.” Penguin breathed, turning his head away from the kiss. “You're a virgin, too, aren't you?” Nygma chuckled lightly as he began placing his lips all along Penguin’s neck. “Get. Off.” Oswald muttered beneath his breath. He was stubborn, however he wasn't pushing the man away or squirming in attempt to escape. Instead, his back arched and he sighed. “Get the hell off of me.” Blue eyes closed; his words were rejecting, but his body and mind certainly weren't. Even feeling Nygma’s cool hands slip beneath his shirt was beginning to make him submit, but these types of intimacies were completely foreign to him. It was when Ed’s hands began to travel lower that Oswald grabbed his wrists with the tightest grip he could muster. “To far?” Ed asked against Penguin’s collar. “I can't. Just get off.” Oswald whined like a child, pulling on Ed’s wrists. Hovering over Oswald in thought, Nygma rolled off of him without argument and turned his head to look over the man’s flustered features. “My apologies, Mr. Penguin.” Ed mumbled quietly before pulling the blankets up over them both.

[akingofgotham]

1. Pᴀᴛɪᴇɴᴄᴇ [ɴʏɢᴍᴀ ᴥ ᴄᴏʙʙʟᴇᴘᴏᴛ] ↳ᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ ʙʏ #Sᴋʏᴇ #Season1

Edward Nygma was a forensics scientist in the GCPD. He had earned his degree at Gotham City University. In recent events an unexpected scenario had occurred. A certain Oswald Cobblepot had been on the run from the GCPD for two nights now with the charge of an assassination attempt on the new mayor. The reason was respectable. This new mayor was a horrible man and murdered Cobblepot’s mother right before his eyes. The man’s mother was the only person he had that loved him. Cobblepot was a rather skinny young man with pale skin and noticeable crystal blue eyes. However, the signature gimp in his right knee left him with an awkward limp in his walk. Thus saying, Oswald Cobblepot had been shot in the shoulder and was taking refuge in a beaten trailer in the woods when he literally stumbled upon Edward Nygma. Edward, whom was burying the girlfriend his alter ego murdered the night before, managed to transport Cobblepot to his apartment. Since then, Edward had been nursing Cobblepot back to health. This meant abiding to the skinny little man’s every need which was quickly becoming tedious. Speaking of the devil, Edward Nygma groaned out loud and slammed his fist down onto his desk. This was fourth time within the hour that Oswald's name lit the front of his flip phone. “What's so delicate that saying it's name breaks it?" Nygma hissed into the phone with his hand cupped in paranoia someone would enter his office and hear him. An exaggerated grunt came from the other end of the receiver. “I told you I don't like riddles.” Oswald muttered in frustration as he stood in Nygma’s apartment, staring into the refrigerator. “The answer is silence, Mr. Penguin, in which I require to complete these assignments.” Edward nudged his glasses with his knuckle, glaring down at his paperwork through bright green eyes. A table lamp casted a shimmering glare across his lenses. “Well.” Oswald rolled his eyes, using his free hand to push thin black hair from his view. “I'm hungry.” The Penguin stated like a spoiled child. "And there's no good booze in this place. Only cheap box wine a divorced woman with three kids would drink.” It was stated with richly cunning mockery even as he poured himself a second glass and brought it to his lips. “Bring better shit.” Oswald demanded as if not acting a child himself, but talking to one. Edward Nygma cringed, dark eyebrows knitting with impatience. “You're certainly not as milquetoast and subservient as you appear to be.” The brunette sneered. “Always unsatisfied.” Just before any cocky or sarcastic remark could be heard through the receiver, Nygma snapped his phone shut. The remaining two hours of work flow dragged by increasingly slow. Message after message from Cobblepot had forced him to turn his phone to silent mode. Wishing there was a “silent mode” for his impulsively demanding guest, Edward gathered his belongings into a small brief case before standing to leave. Nudging his glasses with his index finger, Nygma wasn't much of one to drive. Besides, taxi was much quicker in a city as busy and hectic as Gotham. Without fail, Nygma stopped in at the nearest liquor store with a signature cheery smile across his face. Unsure of exactly what it was Mr. Penguin was longing for, he picked the most expensive bottle of whiskey. Oswald wasn't one to, obviously, be very keen on cheaper liquor or off-brand clothing. Just that morning, actually, he complained very stubbornly about having to wear Nygma’s “garbage” bathrobe.. However, Ed didn't take the insults seriously while logically figuring Oswald wasn't used to middle-class living. Arriving home at exactly 9:00 P.M., Nygma shrugged off his jacket and toed his shoes off at the door. “Good evening.” Ed cheered as he entered the one floor apartment, a bright smile lit his features as he spotted Oswald sitting boredly at the small kitchen table. Despite being pestered all day while at work, Nygma was always delighted to return home to some company. “It's about damn time.” Oswald groaned as he stood and swiped the brown paper bag from Ed’s hands, pulling the bottle out with a smug grin. “Fancy enough for your taste, Mr. Penguin?” Ed asked as he leaned against the false granite countertop; and thus he just stood there gazing at Cobblepot, intently watching him pour himself a drink. Meticulous and observant, Nygma couldn't help but to feel captivated by his guest’s stunning blue eyes. “Why are you standing there staring at me? It's awkward.” Oswald muttered, lifting an eyebrow while taking a long sip of his drink. “Had by few but treasured by all. I'm on the inside and the outside and make men fall. What am I?” Edward asked nonchalantly as he turned and poured himself a small glass of wine considering he might as well have the rest since Oswald helped himself. “I don't care.” Penguin grunted as he threw back the remaining contents of his glass. “Order some food.” The shorter man demanded as he poured himself another drink. Sighing, Nygma held up a small smile. “Suit yourself. If you continue to drink at that rate, you'll be out of your mind before you know it. It's pathetic to wallow in your sorrows.” Taking off his glasses, Ed gently rubbed his eyes before turning and meeting the gaze across the room. “Again, friend, I don't care nor did I ask for your opinion.” Nose scrunched with annoyance, Oswald began to pour his third glass. Ed shook his head and silently turned to make his way to the shower. “Why were you bugging me all day, Mr. Penguin?" The brunette inquired as he closed the door to the bathroom, firing up the shower. A disgusted look appeared across his pale features as Oswald ditched the glass and grabbed the bottle. “I was bored.” Stubborn as usual, he followed Nygma, the gimp in his step was his unfortunate signature. Standing outside the bathroom door, Cobblepot brought the bottle to his thin lips. Making a face at the harsh taste, Oswald held back a quiet cough. “That's truly the only logical reasoning you can think of?” Nygma cooed, undressing himself before cracking open the door and peeking outside at Oswald. “Or did you miss me?" The smile on his face widened even as the look of total disgust grew clearer on Penguin’s face. “Uhhg, ew, no.” Oswald snapped in return as he poked Ed in the forehead, pushing him back behind the door. A heat rose to his cheeks as the alcohol quickly began to settle in his empty stomach. “If you say so, Mr. Penguin.” Edward grinned to himself as he shut the door, turning to step into the shower. The warm water forced out a sigh of relief. Emerald green eyes fell closed as the steam began to haze and fog the mirror. A bit more than a quarter of the liquor was gone when Oswald leaned heavily against the bathroom door. It didn't take much to plaster him considering his petite figure. “Shit..” Mumbled the dark haired man as he set the bottle on the end table close to the door. “When will you be done?" Came an agitated voice. “I don't know. Patience is a virtue. I took you in completely unknowing of how puppy-like you can be.” Green eyes flickered open, an amused gleam within them. “You could always join me.” Nygma offered as a joke, shrugging to himself, curious to hear some fired up insult. But there was silence. Perhaps a contemplating silence? Nygma turned his head in the direction of the door. “Mr. Penguin?” Oswald stood there, shoulders slouched, and listened to Edward Nygma’s words. Puppy? “You're repulsive.” He spat before resting a hand on the bathroom doorknob. It was tempting. But why? Because he was a little drunk? Heaving a heavy sigh, Oswald pushed open the bathroom door; the hot steam instantly hit him and felt unexpectedly soothing. Nygma jumped when he heard the door open and close. “I wasn't serious!” He exclaimed, pulling the shower curtain enough to peer over at Penguin who was silently undressing. Confusion twisted across his face as Oswald Cobblepot stepped into the shower. Shivering, Penguin wrapped his arms around himself. “Don't stare at me like I'm from another goddamn planet, let me under the water!” Eyes wide, Ed Nygma hesitantly stepped aside to allow enough room for his guest to slip into the water. This was completely and utterly unexpected. However, Ed just stood there in a daze and watched as Oswald squinted his eyes to read the shampoo bottle label. “Organic shampoo?” Penguin snickered as he set the bottle back down, eyes wandering to meet Ed’s. “What.” “Oh.. Ah, nothing. Nothing at all.” Feeling increasingly nervous, Ed combed his fingers through his wet hair. “Whatever.” Mumbled Oswald as the liquor finally took its final toll. “You asked me to get in here with you! Idiot, is that where your plan en—” Quickly, he cut himself off and adverted his glare. “Nevermind, forget it.” “My.. Plan?” Ed asked, suddenly suspicious and calculating. Green hues narrowed, uncertain. “You are an extremely misleading man, Mr. Penguin.” Nygma said slowly as his head tilted, being a bit careful of his words. A flash of anger sparked in Oswald’s eyes as a grimace faded over his facial features. Without any thought, Oswald Cobblepot found himself shoving Nygma up against the shower wall. “Do something. Don't just stand there gawking like an imbecile!" “I-I think your judgement is impaired—” “It's not.” Oswald glared up into those green eyes before him. It was obvious he was slipping from his usual demeanor. Hesitating, Nygma lifted his hands to Oswald’s face and just looked at him. What he saw in those crystal blue eyes was a longing sadness. A loneliness. “What do you want me to do?" Nygma asked softly, leaning his forehead down against Penguin’s. Since meeting Oswald Cobblepot, Ed had a fascination on him. He would sit in his work room and read every article and newspaper that the Penguin happened to be mentioned in. Even when Oswald would unexpectedly show up at the precinct to speak with Jim Gordon, Ed would eavesdrop on the conversations. It was quite the odd infatuation he admitted to himself. Oswald slightly flinched when he felt warm hands on his face and Ed’s forehead against his own. In truth he'd never been this close to person without inflicting damage to them vise versa. “I know.” Nygma offered a pleasant smile as he leaned away and grabbed the shampoo bottle, pouring some into the palm of his hand. As he began to massage the shampoo into Oswald’s hair, he noted how those blue eyes closed and his entire being seemed to relax. Penguin sighed as Nygma began to rinse the suds from his hair. “What was the answer to the riddle.. Y'know, from earlier?” The question brought a smile to Ed’s face as he finished gently scrubbing the soap from Oswald’s hair. “I don't think I'm going to give you the answer to that one. Ponder on it.” A look of unsatisfactory washed over Oswald’s face, eyes rolling.

[akingofgotham]

made by twitter.com/aKingOfGotham

[akingofgotham]

made by twitter.com/aKingOfGotham

[akingofgotham]

made by twitter.com/aKingOfGotham

[akingofgotham]

made by twitter.com/aKingOfGotham

[akingofgotham]

made by twitter.com/aKingOfGotham